Phalen

Phalen - Reputation and Honor

Chapter Ten

By Roy Reinikainen

Head baseball coach Ed Bowen sighed, facing his wife across the dinner table. "I know you've been tolerant, sweetheart," he said, "and I know I've always confided you in the past, but this time, I can't. That doesn't mean that I think you'll tell all your friends about my problems; it's just that," he held out his hands, "I can't. Please understand."

Mary Bowen compressed her lips. "I guess that's what I'll have to do, isn't it?" A moment later, her expression softened. "I'm sorry, Ed. I don't mean to be so demanding; it's just that it's obvious, from the way you're behaving, that you're carrying around one heavy emotional burden. I thought that if you talked about it, you might feel better."

Ed reached across the table and took his wife's hands. "Dear, if this was only my problem, I'd gladly talk to you, but this has a wider scope. I've personally been asked by one of the docs at the Clinic to keep totally silent." He tightened his grip. "And, even that I probably should not have said. So, please, don't mention even that when you talk to your sisters, or anything. Please. I feel as if I've already broken a confidence by saying as much as I have."

His wife frowned. "It's that serious?"

"Please, Mary . . . no one at all. This'll be over soon, then we can discuss everything at length. Okay?" he asked, raising his brow. His wife thought a moment, then reluctantly nodded.

"Whatever it is will be over soon?" she asked.

"God, but I hope so."

His wife patted his hand. "Good. Now why don't you go for a walk around the block, or something? You're making me all anxious, just being around you."

"Thanks, Mary. You're the best," he grinned. "But, then, I always knew that." He winked, pleased with her blush, then folded his napkin, stood, and headed outside, taking his wife's advice.

'Geez,' he thought. 'I hate treating Jackson like I am, but putting pressure on him is the only way I can think of to make him say something which will unequivocally tell me he's guilty of the things he's been accused of. I've been watching him and . . . nothing, other than his increasing antagonism toward Marty and Phalen.' Ed returned a neighbor's wave, but didn't stop to visit.

'There's something going on, though. I can find absolutely no reason why he should be so upset with either of them. They are two of the best boys I've ever met. I'd say they're cut from the same mold. So what if they're gay! Who, now days, cares about something like that?' He paused a moment, then grinned to himself. 'Well . . . some people still do, but they're not totally in touch with reality.'

The grin faded. 'Jackson's mother, my wife's sister, is one of those people. If Jackson is indeed gay, that woman will personally want to wring his neck, then boil him in oil, or something else as ghastly.

'It looked like he was about to slip, when I asked him about Randy Shaw. It's impossible not to be aware that Jackson and Randy had a falling out about something, but what? Randy was a very good player. He was always a little too sure of himself, but he never stepped over the line, at least with me. If he'd done something inappropriate with someone else, I surely would have heard about it.

'The scenario Doctor Layson proposed makes perfect sense. If the person the doctor was speaking of was Jackson . . . and if he . . . propositioned . . . Randy, and if Randy accepted, there'd be no problem, other than the fact that Jackson, an authority figure, is being intimate with young men he's responsible for. He doesn't have to play around with guys on the team. There are plenty of other young men who I'm sure would be happy to satisfy him. But . . . if Randy initially accepted Jackson's overtures, and then decided he didn't want to fool around any more, and Jackson pressured him, or something, what would be the likely outcome of such a situation?'

The coach tiredly sank to a park bench in the shade cast by a number of large trees, and absently watched a volleyball game in progress. The game was accompanied by a lot of laughter and good natured gibes. 'What would it take to wear Randy, a cocky young man, very much full of himself, down to the point Doctor Layson had to refer him to a psychiatrist for medical attention? Nothing short of extraordinary, I would think. But, if anyone could do such a thing, I imagine Jackson would be capable. Once he's made up his mind about something, nothing's going to change it.'

Coach Bowen smiled. 'Marty's young friend, Eric, certainly doesn't seem intimidated by my nephew though. It was all I could do not to cheer when Eric, ever-so-casually, told Jackson, 'no'; that he would not leave the meeting room. I'm glad I stepped in, though. There's no telling what Jackson, as hot headed as he is, would do.

'So . . . where does all this soul-searching leave me? I can ask Jackson point-blank if he's gay, and if he's been intimate with anyone on the team, but I don't really expect he'd be truthful, especially considering his mother's feelings about homosexuality. I can continue to badger him, hoping he'll break . . . but . . . damn; that takes a lot out of me. I can tell him that I've become aware of someone pressuring young men on the team, to have sex with them, and see what he does, or . . . I can do nothing.' The coach angrily shook his head. "No," he said aloud. 'That is the one thing I can't do . . . nothing.'

Dani relaxed into Kerin's embrace. The crying had stopped, and he felt . . . good, for the first time in months. Kerin's warmth, strength, and acceptance seemed to envelop him. "I never realized how much I've missed being held," he murmured, feeling like a child trying to snuggle closer to a parent whose embrace made things better. He loved how Kerin idly ran his fingertips through his hair, just as Denis had done. Dani pushed thoughts of his brother away. The man holding him; the man who felt and smelled so good, was not Denis.

He could feel Kerin chuckle in response to his comment about being held. "I'm here to hold you any time, Dani. Holding you is sort of a new experience for me. One I'm loving. T and I don't usually sit around and hold one another, other than when we're laying in bed." He tightened his arm around Dani's shoulders and nuzzled Dani's hair. "This is nice. You feel so good." Everything about Dani was different from Thian. It wasn't better, or not as good. It was just . . . different.

"You told Thian and me, a while back, that you were going to have to move out of your apartment. Have you found a new place?" Kerin welcomed Dani linking fingers with his. Kerin was amazed. 'This isn't a sensual experience, it's . . . satisfying.'

"No, I've not really been looking, though. I sorta hate to give up the place he and I shared." Dani's voice was soft and warm, slightly deeper than Thian's, or, Kerin assumed, his own. When he spoke, his voice reminded Kerin of velvet rubbing against his skin. Each word he spoke seemed like a gentle caress. "Dad and Mom have asked me to move back in with them, so I guess that's what I'll do. I just don't make enough money, working at the library, to afford any place near the University. Denis and I, combining our incomes, barely made it. I definitely can't, by myself, and, since I walk almost everyplace, I don't want a place that's too far from school."

"Your parents are good people, though," Kerin prompted, thinking that they would have to be, to have a son like Dani.

"Oh, yes. They're good. It's just . . ." Dani shrugged in Kerin's embrace, "by moving home, it's like I'm giving them permission to manage my life, just like when I was younger. They won't do it intentionally, and they may not actually do it at all; it's just that I'll be thinking they are." He sighed. "I'll live with it. I couldn't ask for better parents, really. It's just . . . I guess I'm too sensitive about stuff." There was a moment of silence, then Dani snorted a soft laugh. "It's funny . . ."

"Hm?" Kerin prompted, continuing to nuzzle Dani's hair.

"It's funny . . . I always have thought of Denis as being the overly sensitive one of us. I was the one with more sense. He was the one with the sense of humor, always laughing and teasing. Thinking of my folks, just now, sorta makes me think that Denis and I . . . were . . . more alike than I've thought."

"Will living at home make it more difficult to see guys?" Kerin asked.

Dani snorted. "If you mean, am I going to be feel comfortable bringing a guy into my folks' house and having sex in my old room, the answer is 'no'. Besides," he shrugged, "since Denis, I've not been interested in sex." He huffed a laugh, but said nothing.

"What?"

"The first time I saw you, walking across the lobby of the Athletics Center, was the first time I even thought about sex since Dani's death. I saw you, and wham, I was stiff." He turned to look at Kerin. "Happens every time I'm around you. You're pretty sexy, y'know," Dani added, sheepishly, tightening his fingers, linked with Kerin's, and cuddling closer.

"That's what Thian keeps telling me, but," Kerin chuckled, "I've always thought it one of those narcissistic things, or something. Y'know, like kissing your reflection in the mirror. I had a teacher once who asked if I ever did that. I told her 'no'; I had T to kiss." Kerin chuckled. "She never got sassy with me again. Hmm," he thought a moment. "Maybe it was I who was getting sassy with her." He shrugged. "Whatever. It was a long time ago."

Dani yawned, as he nodded. "Geez, I'm sorry. It's just that my body's telling me it appreciates the fact that I'm not all tense n'stuff. I can't remember the last time I felt this good. Still . . . I'd better head out. Thian'll be home soon, and I should be getting to bed. It'll take me a while to get home." Feeling daring, he turned his head and kissed Kerin's hand, where it rested on his shoulder.

"Don't leave," Kerin murmured, increasing the pressure of his embrace. "You're feeling good. I'm feeling good. If you don't have to be home, stay a while longer." Kerin wiggled slightly. "We can feel good, together. I've not had the chance to hold many other guys. It's not that Thian has prevented me; it's just that I haven't wanted to. Not until I met you, at least." Kerin chuckled. "It sounds like I'm proposing, or something. I'm not. Thian is my lover, but," he kissed the top of Dani's head. "I'd like it if you were much more than a friend."

"Thian?" Dani asked.

"Would be doing the same thing I am. When he gets home, he'll probably sit next to you and enjoy holding you as much as I am. Gotta watch him, though."

"Oh? He doesn't seem dangerous," Dani chuckled, "at least no more so than his brother."

Kerin softly snorted. "He'll want to kiss you good night, or whatever. That boy certainly likes to kiss."

"And you don't?" Dani playfully responded.

"At least I wait until I'm asked."

"So, if ever I want you to kiss me, all I have to do is ask? I'll have to remember that," he said, around a yawn.

Kerin murmured an affirmative, as he nuzzled Dani's hair.

Eric turned to Marty and made an inquisitive sound. "You're troubled by something."

Marty smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess."

Eric rubbed a hand up and down Marty's back. They'd been to Phalen and Jeff's for dinner, and were walking across campus to Eric's apartment. "I'm a good listener." It was late and the campus was dark, but for the pools of light scattered down the length of the mall, and the splash of the fountain as they passed the library.

"It's just . . ." Marty began, searching for the right words. "It's just, everything's gotten so complicated. Here I am, minding my own business, when, wham! Coach Cline bursts into my life and screws everything up. I'm afraid of him, Eric. I'm afraid he'll corner me someplace. I'm afraid he'll corner you someplace for standing up to him like you did . . . twice, no less; the first time when he was in the showers, and then when you refused to leave the lounge. He's not going to forget that sort of thing."

Eric squeezed Marty's shoulder. "Just a moment, handsome. I may be nowhere near as big a guy as the coach, but . . . trust me, Marty . . . I can take care of myself. Remember," Eric said, with a smile in his voice, "I have three sisters, who took great pleasure in teasing their little brother."

"You can't compare your sisters with Coach Cline."

"No, but, when I was little, it seemed like I was angry with my sisters all the time. I had no . . . control . . . of my emotions. I had no way to protect myself, either physically or emotionally. I was at their mercy. Oh, I don't mean to say that they tormented me physically, if that's what you're thinking. They did, though, take great pleasure in watching me react to their jokes. They controlled me, as much as the coach controls all you guys on the team. I reacted to them in the same way everyone reacts to the coach." Eric turned to Marty, then stopped in a pool of light. "Marty, I learned to control my emotions by going to school . . . a martial arts school. I also learned how to protect myself from people like Coach Cline."

"Martial arts?"

Eric nodded. "If he attacked me, it would not be difficult to make him wish he hadn't. Marty, he doesn't think . . . about . . . anything. He's a big bag of hormones, moving around bumping into things, reacting in the only ways his conditioning allows. He's accustomed to getting his way, and doesn't have any idea what to do when someone stands up to him. We've jokingly called him sick, and that's exactly what he is . . . sick. He has no social skills whatsoever. He gets away with the lack by being the macho coach. That's the only role he knows how to play.

"He probably hates himself for being gay. He doesn't know how to make friends, or to find someone with whom to have a relationship. So, he forces himself on guys, and then takes out all of his anger on them, once he's got them in bed," Eric continued.

"Listening to you talk about the changes in your friend, Randy, is scary. I keep thinking that, if you weren't so strong, the coach could have done the same thing to you." Eric reached across the small distance separating him from Marty, and slowly ran his fingertips over Marty's cheek. "I've never met Randy, but I bet it's going to take a long time for him to recover. I can't help but wonder about your friend, Dani, and his brother. I wonder if his brother was one of Coach Cline's victims. If he wasn't as strong as you or Randy, things could have gotten so bad for him that the only way he knew of to escape was to kill himself."

Marty heaved a stuttering breath. "This is all just too much to handle. Here I am feeling bad that I've been propositioned by the guy, when there Randy is, trying to recover from being abused. And, nothing anyone does will bring Dani's brother back. Sorta makes being propositioned sound pretty minor. Still . . .

"Eric," Marty said, "I spoke with Dani. Something was ripped out of him when his brother died. Dani will never be the same. Randy will never be the same." Marty's voice rose. "Who knows how many others will never be the same, all because of the coach's lack of social skills!"

"I'm sick of that man ruining people's lives." Marty made a sweeping gesture. "He's out there somewhere, on the lose, and here I am . . . doing nothing but feeling sorry for myself! I've got to do something, Eric . . . something other than turn the guy's proposition down."

Kerin sat quietly, as Dani's breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep. 'This is sooo different from holding T,' he thought, resting his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. 'I've become so accustomed to T's body against mine; his smell, even his way of holding my hand, that it's sort of . . . shocking . . . to experience someone different.' Kerin raised his head and glanced around the living room of the house which, until recently, belonged to his father. When his dad had moved in with a lawyer-friend, he'd given the house to his two sons.

'Even though this place is nothing special, it's more room than Thian and I need. Hell, there are two bedrooms and a bathroom we never even go into. I wonder what T would say if I suggested letting Dani stay here. I'd hate for him to have to move home. He's got enough on his mind without having to contend with parents, no matter how well meaning they are. He needs to be free to be himself and to talk about his brother. He's already said that Thian and I are the only people he's found he can talk to. He also needs to be able to bring someone home. I wonder what his folks would think of that?"

Kerin tenderly nuzzled Dani's short, light brown hair, smiling when Dani tried to snuggle closer. 'I wonder what's influencing me most? Am I really wanting him nearby for the reasons I've thought of, or . . .' he mentally shrugged. 'I don't know. He's awfully sexy. T and I can't be more than a year or two older than him, at the most; yet, he seems so young, so . . . vulnerable. Still, I wonder what would it be like to have someone living with us.' Kerin thought a long moment.

'I can't help but think having someone new in the house would be good for us. Dani's folks started teaching him and his brother, from their earliest days, that they had lives independent of one another. Even with that background, look how much Dani's hurting. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like for me if Thian were no . . .' Kerin swallowed, barely even able to think of the possibility, 'if he were no longer . . . here. Maybe, Dani would help us learn to be a little more independent of one another, even if he didn't realize he was doing it.'

Kerin scowled at his immobilized wrist. 'Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. It has forced T and I to spend time apart. I hate it, though, that he's able to work out and I'm not. Still, if we were both working out, we'd be together.' He sighed. 'As much as I hate to admit it, maybe Dani's folks did the right thing by him and his brother. Dad tried too late to start with T and me. We'd already become pretty set in our ways.'

He glanced around the dimly lit living room. It had been daylight when he and Dani had sat on the sofa. Now, it was full-dark. 'The drapes should really be closed,' he thought, 'but I'm not disturbing Dani to do it. Maybe T will be home soon, and he can close them.'

Kerin thought of his brother, and the conversation they'd had about Dani, on the day he was conducting his interview. 'Thian seemed to feel the same way about him that I said I did. I wonder what he'll think when he comes home and sees me holding him like I am. I really do want Dani to move in with us. I'm not talking about sleeping with us . . . though that might be fun, too,' Kerin grinned. 'I'm talking about him living with us; of us living with him.'

He heard Thian's distinctively light footsteps on the front walk. Thian paused a moment and glanced into the living room through the large front window, his brows rising slightly when Kerin rose, his injured arm in a silent greeting. A moment later, Thian quietly entered the house, and shut both the living room door and the drapes, smiling and whispering, "hi."

He walked to the edge of the sofa and kissed Kerin, pausing to lovingly run his fingers through his brother's hair. "Everything okay?" he murmured.

Kerin nodded. "We sat down to talk about Denis. He cried some, then fell asleep. I'm thinking he's not had too many good night's sleep since his brother died."

"You like holding him, don't you?" Thian observed, perching on the sofa's arm, and continuing to stroke his brother's hair.

He felt Kerin nod. "You would, too. He seems so . . . vulnerable, or something. Why don't you sit down on the other side and we can hold him together?" Before Thian could move, Dani sleepily looked up and saw Thian. "Oh, geez," he groaned. "I'm sorry, Thian. Kerin was just listening to me talk about Denis, and I fell asleep." Kerin held him in place as he tried to sit up.

"Sorry about what?" Thian asked. "I think it's great that you've found someone to talk to, though I must admit I am surprised K would stay quiet long enough to listen to you." He chuckled, as his brother was about to protest. "I'm joking, K."

"He was wonderful, Thian," Dani said, turning toward Kerin. "He's made me feel better than I have at any time since Denis' death. I've missed being held and having someone to talk to . . . so much." Thian noticed his brother slowly massage Dani's shoulder. "Kerin gave me a chance to just . . . talk. I didn't have to watch what I was saying, like I would with Mom and Dad. They're dealing with their own pains, and sometimes Denis and me being gay rubbed them the wrong way. With Kerin, well . . . it's so great to feel as if someone cares."

"Well," Thian laughed. "Are you only going to let my brother hold you, or may I have a chance, too?"

"I warned him about you, T."

"Huh?"

"You know, about your kissing problem."

"I can handle it," Dani grinned, "and I can't think of anything better than being held by you guys. You both make me feel so . . . welcome, or something. I don't even know how to put into words what I'm feeling. It's just wonderful, that's all."

"Well, I know how to put what I'm feeling into words, Thian laughed. "I'm exhausted. Tell you what, Dani. Why don't you spend the night with Kerin and me? That way the three of us can snuggle."

"But . . ."

"C'mon," Kerin said, finally removing his arm from around Dani's shoulders. "You both are gonna have to help me move, though. I've been in that position for hours."

Thian winked at Dani. "Suppose the two of us can massage the blood back into his sorry limbs?"

"I'm not carrying him into the bedroom," Dani laughed, instantly falling into the teasing banter the twins lived with as a matter of course. "He's probably heavier than he looks . . . all that muscle n'all."

"Hmm, a massage," Kerin sighed. "Sounds good to me. C'mon guys, help me up." He made an impatient gesture with his uninjured hand. "We're gonna have to sleep in Dad's bed, T. There's no way the three of us will fit in ours, unless someone sleeps on top of someone else."

"Ooooo," Thian laughed.

"Sounds good at first, but for a whole night? Hell, I don't even want you on top of me for that much time. Now, help me up; the blood's returning from wherever it's been hiding, and I'm tingling all over. I need that massage you were talking about . . . quick. I need to get naked so the two of you can work on me."

Dani paused, his smile frozen.

"What? Did you think you were gonna massage me when I'm totally dressed?" Kerin laughed. "Don't worry. You'll be naked, too."

"That's what I'm worried about," Dani mumbled.

"Whenever he's around us, he says he gets hard," Kerin stage-whispered in his brother's direction. "I told him we're flattered that his dick thinks so much of us . . . and we've never even met."

Thian laid an arm over Dani's shoulders, and guided him toward his father's old bedroom, and the largest bed in the house, while Kerin trailed a step behind. "C'mon, Dani, you know you want to stay, and K and I want to have you with us. We think you're one of the greatest guys we've ever met . . ."

"Not to mention sexy as all get-out," Kerin interjected, unable to take his eyes off the way Dani's tight jeans conformed to his butt.

"That too," Thian continued, sparing a mock glare over his shoulder as the three men entered the large bedroom. Kerin hustled ahead and turned on a bedside lamp, then looked around. To him, this was still his father's bedroom. It felt . . . strange . . . to be in the room with someone other than Thian. Neither he nor his brother had ever brought a guy home, intending on having sex.

'Is that what T and I are intending?' Kerin asked himself, stepping into a three-way embrace. On his left was Thian . . . the familiar, the comfortable . . . all the things he'd begun to question. On his right was Dani, a . . . symbol of survival, a man who'd overcome so much. He felt different than Thian, he smelled different, he reacted differently. 'He needs T and me, to recover,' Kerin thought, 'and we need him, to grow.'

Kerin watched as his brother tenderly kissed Dani on the lips. It was a chaste kiss which, nevertheless, brought a flush to Dani's cheeks. Then, it was Kerin's turn. He noticed the fleeting hint of a grin which flashed over Dani's face, a moment before their lips met. 'He even tastes different,' was Kerin's first thought, a moment before the . . . too brief . . . kiss ended.

"Thanks, guys," Dani murmured. "This is the first time . . . since . . ." his eyes flicked away, then back, "that I've felt . . . wanted. As one, Kerin and Thian tightened their embrace.

"You're damn right, you're wanted," Thian said, his voice rough with emotion. He could feel Dani's pain, as if it were an open wound. 'The poor guy,' he thought, not wanting to let Dani go.

"Didn't someone mention something about a massage . . ." Kerin asked, his voice rising slightly in a hint, as he rescued Thian, wondering what it was about Dani that made both him and his brother teary-eyed.

"That means all of us need to be naked," he grinned. "Okay?" he asked, raising his brows and reaching for Dani's dark green polo shirt. He watched Dani swallow, then nod once, taking a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what was to come.

"Relax," Thian murmured, in Dani's ear, as he kissed his cheek. "K and I aren't asking for sex . . ."

"Tonight." Kerin added, unfastening Dani's belt and waistband button.

Thian softly snorted. "We'd like to cuddle . . ."

"And kiss."

"And be together," Thian concluded, rubbing a comforting hand over Dani's back.

Dani grinned, allowing Kerin to remove his shirt. Thian was next, as he first unzipped Dani's fly, then, with Kerin's help, eased both the jeans and Dani's briefs over the swell of his buttocks and his erection, then down his legs. Dani toed off his trainers, then stepped out of his jeans, standing before the twins, totally naked.

"Beautiful," Thian and Kerin murmured, in concert, as they tenderly explored Dani's chest, back and belly, as he tilted his head back and sighed with pleasure, then turned toward Thian for an open-mouthed kiss, as Kerin stripped. It only took a moment for him to shed his clothes, then he and Dani kissed while Thian stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile on the bedroom floor.

"Let's forget the massage," Kerin murmured, as he and his brother led Dani to the foot of the bed. "Friggin' tall bed," he grumbled, while climbing onto the bed, feeling like a child. "You guys are gonna have to hold me so I don't fall off." He playfully looked over the edge, as if it were a precipice.

"That's easy enough," Dani smiled, relaxed, now that whatever was going to happen, was underway. It also helped that once Kerin had stopped playing being frightened by the bed's height, that he was naked and was sandwiched between the two most stunning men, equally naked, he'd ever met.

"Dang," Thian said, releasing him, and rolling to turn off the bedside lamp. That single word, one of his brother's favorites, gave Dani pause, but he quickly recovered when Thian rolled back, capturing him with a leg and an arm across his chest. He could feel Thian's erection pressed against his hip, and his breath on his neck.

"I wish I wasn't so tired," Thian said, around a yawn. He tenderly kissed Dani's cheek. "Being here with you both is just so damn hot."

"Quiet, T," Kerin murmured. "Dani and I are trying to sleep." He rubbed a hand over Dani's chest and belly. "But first . . . C'mon, guys." He propped himself up on an elbow. "Give me a kiss, then let's sleep."

Thian leaned across Dani and kissed his brother, while slowly thrusting his erection against Dani's naked skin. "Nice," Thian murmured, when he and Kerin separated. "Now," Thian murmured, laying partially across Dani, "it's my turn. Thian's tongue met his, for a kiss which left him breathless, with Kerin still waiting for his kiss. 'Holy . . .' Dani thought to himself, as Thian pulled away to be replaced by his brother, and a kiss the duplicate of the one Thian had given him. When Kerin moved away, though, he kissed Dani's cheek, then his ear.

"Thanks for staying," he murmured, on a hint of a breath, then turned on his side and snuggled Dani's erection into the cleft of his buttocks.

At his back, Thian's breathing had already slowed. 'G'night, Denis,' Dani said, imagining taking his brother in his arms and holding him as they slept. As if on cue, Kerin reached back and wrapped Dani's arm over his chest . . . just as Denis had always done.

The gravel of the Zen garden of the Nakai Saburo Dojo had darkened in the steady late afternoon drizzle. In the far distance, the faint grumble of thunder was the only sound to disturb the silence, a low rumbling which seemed to echo Eric's thoughts, as he sat on the wooden meditation platform, unaware of his surroundings. Since coming to Tempe, he found the garden to be the one place he felt totally at peace. Lately though, even the school's contemplation garden had failed to quiet his thoughts.

He knew himself to be alone. No one would consider interrupting another's meditation. Even so, he imagined he could feel the slight disturbance in the air as someone . . . it could only be the senior instructor, slowly sat at his side. Eric calmed himself, refusing to wonder why his contemplation had conjured the man he respected, more than any other, to sit next to him.

"You are troubled, Mister Mori," Eric imagined head instructor, Akihiko Isozaki, murmuring into the quiet. "You seek an answer which eludes you."

"Yes, Sensei." The two men sat in silence, the one of flesh and blood, the other, conjured out of the moist air, and the lessons of a lifetime.

"I am questioning my motivations," Eric murmured. "It cannot be a bad thing to seek to help a loved one. Yet, by helping, I may diminish my loved one in his own eyes, and that cannot be a good thing."

"Bad and good are intertwined like rope," Mister Mori. "Only you can decide which skein to follow." There was a long pause. "There is more to your disquiet than you have described."

Eric steadied his breathing. His back remained straight, his hands, resting on his thighs, remained calm. "Yes, Sensei. I question who is to benefit from any action I might take. Will my loved one benefit? I also question whether my actions are borne of a genuine desire to end the pain suffered by many, or inflict some of the shame and embarrassment others have suffered, on the man who is the source of much misery. I have never faced this type of trial."

"Yet, questioning your motives, as you are, cannot be a bad thing. I have always believed," Instructor Isozaki murmured, "that adversity is the foundation of virtue. You are young, yet, Mister Mori. The adversity you face has already made you stronger.

"Your loved one, knowing you as he does, will not feel diminished by any action you choose to take to help end the suffering of others. And, the fact that you realize you have, within you, the capacity to inflict shame and embarrassment, to me, says that you will choose not to do so.

"You and your loved one must remember one thing. Fall seven times, stand up eight."

Randy Shaw lay sprawled diagonally across the bed, propped up on his elbows, as he stared, unseeing, across the room. During the last couple months, all the visible scars of his ordeal with Coach Cline had vanished. He had regained most of the weight he'd lost, and his workouts at the apartment complex's gym were producing results. He was tanned, and his eyes, which, only weeks earlier, were haunted, now were clear, framed by dark eyelashes. He was again the man who had turned heads of both women and men.

Earlier in the day, Doctor Layson had declared him physically recovered, and had announced, with a smile, that he was pleased he would no longer be making house calls. He had, without complaint, been meeting Randy away from the Athletics Center Clinic. It was the only way for him to conduct an examination, since Randy had flatly refused to go to the Clinic.

The doctor was the only person, other than Ben, the man who was allowing him to stay in the apartment, who knew where Randy was staying. Doctor Layson and his partner had been wonderful, providing medical and legal advice, as well as trusting friendship and a shoulder to cry on. Randy had always fancied himself to be a macho person, who never showed his emotion, much less cried. Since going to bed with Coach Cline, however, he'd become an emotional wreck. Even though the situation was improving, due to the care of a psychiatrist recommended by Doctor Layson, he was a long way from "cured". He couldn't, for instance, imagine being intimate with anyone. 'At least I'm no longer vomiting whenever I think of being with a man. That's got to be a sign of some sort of recovery.'

He realized how far he was from that final cure, when Doctor Layson had confronted him. "So, Randy," he'd said, easing himself onto one of the apartment's dining room chairs. "I need to ask you a question, and I need to hear the truth. I don't believe you've been giving me the truth, and I don't like that." He'd gestured for Randy to sit, and quietly waited for a response.

"I'm not telling you who did it, Doctor," Randy finally said. "You told me that you'd go directly to the authorities, if I did."

Doctor Layson nodded. "That's true, but that's not what I'm talking about. Only you have the information about who abused you, and it is on your conscience whether you choose to tell anyone about it or not. What I want to know is . . ." There was a pause. "Have you actually told the police, like you've said, or are you sitting on the information, and haven't told anyone?"

The doctor had spoken calmly, his wonderfully accented voice, soft, as usual. But, there was steel beneath that calmness. "The truth," he repeated.

Randy jerked his head. "No . . ." he swallowed. "I haven't told anyone. I start to. I've even dialed the number, but . . . I can't. I'm afraid of having to see him again, yet I have to see him brought down. Doctor . . ." Randy scooted forward on his chair, resting his forearms on the dining table. "I can't begin to tell you the depth of my fear. I've tried to describe it to Doctor Johnston, the psychiatrist. And," Randy continued, "I am better, but still, the only place I feel safe is in this apartment, or down in the weight room.

"I . . . I . . . went back to the Athletics Center once." He swallowed, recalling his fear of walking into that building, certain he would face his tormentor. "It was all I could do, but I needed to meet with Coach Bowen personally, and . . . I needed to apologize to someone . . . for how I'd treated him . . . once. Since," he gestured to his body, "this, I'm much more aware of how badly I have behaved. Even though it about killed me to be . . . there . . . I had to . . . to . . . apologize."

"You are aware, I assume, that the delay in contacting the police, means that whoever did this to you, continues to be free to do the same to someone else?" Randy nodded his bowed head.

"Have you heard of the investigation being conducted by the City and University Police?"

Randy looked up. "No. What investigation?"

"There are two, and possibly three, suicides which have gone unexplained. All were of men, your age, who had some ties with the University Athletics Center. They weren't athletes, but, according to their loved ones, they suddenly became withdrawn, each refusing any attempt to help." As the doctor had spoken, Randy's eyes widened. "There is no proof . . . yet, that there is a connection to those deaths, and what happened to you, but I personally believe there is a connection. That is why I am confronting you.

"I can't help but think that the fear you're experiencing will be diminished if you know that your tormentor is no longer free. That's what he is, Randy. He abused you, and now, even though he is nowhere near you, he continues to torment you. If you are unwilling to tell others who this person is, you are enabling him to continue his abuse. You cannot continue to let the fear of something happening to you guide your actions. Think of the fear someone else may be facing, because of your inaction.

"Please, Randy, do not delay any longer. If you need someone to go with you to the police, my partner will be happy to escort you and to answer any legal questions which might arise. He told me to tell you that he'd represent you pro bono . . . free of charge."

Doctor Layson gently slapped the table top. "Now, enough of that. I trust you'll do the right thing. You have Larry's phone number. Give him a call and talk things over. Your tormentor cannot be everywhere, and, for some reason, I doubt he's likely to be hanging around the police headquarters."

Doctor Layson stood. "Now, I've declared you physically recovered." He smiled. "You're looking great. I've also given you something to consider, so . . . give me a hug, then I'll be going."

"Chee, Marty, nuff a'ready!" Eric called from where he lay, face-down, on the bed. "Try stop! You talk all kine junk stuffs."

"What?" Marty rinsed his mouth and dropped the toothbrush into the plastic cup. He ruffled his still-damp hair and yawned, switching off the light as he left the bathroom. He and Eric had finished their customary evening shower, and he'd been talking about the rash of minor injuries of team members he'd been dealing with, while Eric, presumably, was lying in bed engrossed in the details of sprained ankles and wrists, and how he needed to remember to order some more supplies.

"Oh . . . damn!" he murmured to himself, as he stood in the doorway, one hand still on the light switch. Eric was sprawled in the middle of the bed, cradling his head in his folded arms, his bronzed body contrasting with the white bed sheets. Like Marty, he was naked.

"Try shut da light," he mumbled, aware Marty was now in the room.

"Not yet," Marty murmured, as he crossed the room and stood at the foot of the bed. Eric's muscular, hairless legs were spread slightly, allowing his full ball sac to rest on the sheets. His butt cheeks, as hairless as his legs, were flexing slightly as he slowly humped the sheets. With each downward thrust, the muscles of his buttocks would tighten, while the muscles of his shoulders would flex. Since he knew he had an appreciative audience, he spread his legs wider and humped the sheets more aggressively.

"You pau?" he asked, without looking over his shoulder.

"No, I'm not finished," Marty chuckled. "I've not even begun."

"Better than junk stories, yeah?" Eric asked, reaching back and slapping a butt cheek, as he rolled back onto his knees, while he leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows. The new position caused his cheeks to part and his cock to twitch in excitement, knowing he was exposing himself to Marty in a way he never had.

"Ohhhhh, fuuuuck!" Marty groaned, as he caressed the smooth cheeks with an open palm, aware that his and Eric's sex life was expanding. He felt daring, as he trailed a forefinger between the butt cheeks, until he reached the smooth pucker, which flexed, as if in welcome. He'd seen videos or pictures on the Web, but nothing prepared him for the experience of . . . touching . . . Eric in this most private of places.

Encouraged by Eric's initial groan of approval, Marty traced a forefinger around the puckered perimeter of the opening. The thought of . . . penetrating . . . that opening caused Marty's penis to throb, and begin to drool a steady stream of pre-cum. In his dreams, he'd wiped the head of his penis over Eric's asshole, getting it wet. He'd imagined the head of his cock pressing against the opening, which slowly relaxed to allow him entrance. He'd often wondered what it would be like to see the head of his cock slowly disappear into Eric's butthole. He imagined Eric's groan of pleasure as his muscular sphincter snapped around the ridge of the invading penis, capturing it . . . milking it . . . as he slid the length of his cock into the hot hole, lubricated by his own pre-cum. 'Maybe fantasy is about to become reality,' he thought.

"That's the way," Eric cooed, drawing Marty back to reality. "I've got a real sensitive hole that likes to be played with." He pushed back against Marty's finger. "I love it when you run your finger around it like you're doing. But, you don't have to stop there, if you don't want to."

"I . . . I've never . . ." Marty stammered.

"I know, and that's cool. Don't do anything you don't feel comfortable with." While Eric was talking, Marty continued to gently caress the baby-smooth cheeks. He cupped Eric's balls, amazed at how heavy they were, and how they shifted in his hand. They were so different from his own, which were held tightly beneath his cock. Eric's . . . dangled . . .

Eric's cock hung heavily between his legs. Marty loved the thickness, and the way the prominent head was darker than the shaft. Eric loved to have Marty tongue his large piss slit as he was sucked-off. When they'd masturbate one another, Marty seemed entranced at how he could coax out one large pearl of clear pre-cum after another,, until Eric's entire cock was slick with his juice.

"Kiss my cheeks," Eric urged, his voice rough with building passion.

As if in a trance, Marty knelt at the foot of the bed and did as Eric asked. He first kissed the right cheek, then the left, then returned to the right, and licked a swath over the silky skin. Marty knew Eric loved being licked. He would coo his contentment, as Marty would lick the sperm, from both of their orgasms, off his chest, belly, pubes, and cock.

Marty sat back on his heels and fondled Eric's scrotum, then leaned forward and slowly . . . deliberately . . . sucked first one, then the other, testicle into his mouth, massaging them with his tongue. 'This is way better than any fantasy I've ever had,' Marty thought, releasing the hairless scrotum. Next, he licked over the prominent swell of Eric's perineum. It was as if Eric's thick cock extended inside his body, all the way to his anus. When he reached Eric's pucker, he paused, amazed at the depth of excitement he was feeling, and at Eric's sharp intake of breath, accompanied by a, "oooooh yesssss," on an exhaled breath. The muscular ring alternately relaxed and tightened at the touch of his tongue, begging him to linger, to probe deeper . . . to enjoy himself in a way he had only imagined.

Eric pulled away, turning to lay flat on his back, his erection pointing toward the ceiling. He raised his head and smiled. "Your turn." Marty raised his brows in puzzlement, not sure what was expected of him. "C'mon," Eric urged. "Climb onto the bed, and squat on my tongue." Marty's cock jumped at the thought of experiencing what he'd just done to the man who was eagerly looking at him. He scrambled onto the bed, standing with one foot on either side of Eric's shoulders.

Eric ran a hand up and down Marty's muscular legs, then toyed with the hairless, compact sac. Marty had already begun to toy with his own erection, slowly fisting it while Eric ran his hands from Marty's groin to his muscular calves. "C'mon, squat on my tongue." Eric felt the muscles of Marty's legs shift beneath his hands, as he slowly lowered himself, trembling with anticipation. As Marty's ass cheeks parted, a wave of . . . nastiness . . . swept over him. He'd been horny before, but he'd never experienced anything like this. Eric's tongue had yet to even touch him, and he felt he was about to pop.

"Holy fuck!" Marty heard Eric murmur. "This is so hot!"

First, Marty felt the tip of Eric's tongue teasing the few hairs surrounding his hole. He couldn't take the teasing any longer. "Lick it!" he ordered, squatting down as far as he could, aggressively pushing his butthole against Eric's face. "I need to shoot," he added, squirming on the invading tongue. He rocked his hips forward and back, then moved side to side. "Damn," he murmured, as his approaching orgasm caused him to begin trembling. "Deeper," he ordered. "Lick that fuckin' hole!"

Eric slapped one of Marty's butt cheeks. It was too much. Marty involuntarily tightened his muscles, and groaned loudly, as a thick strand of sperm exploded out of his cock, draping itself over Eric's belly and mingling with his pubic hair. His entire body jerked and trembled, as he milked a second and third shot, and finally a last milky-white pearl, which he gathered with his finger and wiped over one of Eric's nipples.

When Eric began to fist his own cock, Marty swiped his hand away, then rocked forward to his knees, still astride Eric's body, and engulfed the erection with his mouth. A muffled groan and an arched back, drilling the cock deep into his throat, were the only warning Marty got before Eric's sperm flooded his mouth.

He loved the taste of Eric's jiz, a thick salty-sweet liquid which coated his tongue, and filled his mouth. He wanted to hold the warm liquid in his mouth, along with Eric's slowly softening cock, but remembered that he still had to lick his own load off of Eric's chest and belly. So . . . he released Eric's penis and swallowed the load, licking his lips.

"Damn, that was good," he murmured, to the already drowsing man. Eric tilted his head up and gave him a bleary-eyed grin, as Marty slurped up the last of his own load, and swallowed.

'Oh, the light,' Marty remembered, pleased that he'd left it on so he could see what had just happened. He and Eric hadn't fucked. He hadn't seen the head of his cock disappear into Eric's hole . . . yet. He stretched and turned off the bedside lamp, then cuddled close, resting an arm across Eric's chest, after tenderly kissing his cheek.

"Love you," Eric mumbled, snuggling closer, speaking as if he were already half asleep. "Love you, Marty," he repeated, as his breathing slowed . . . and he was asleep, after telling Marty that he loved him, for the first time.

~ to be continued ~

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