A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 415 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 415 – "LARRY FIGHTS HIS DEMONS""

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The motorcycle mechanic Larry has deep problems that enrage the cop Mark when he attacks Mark's boy, the young jock Jamie. Jamie placates the cop by making euphoric love to him. Then the two shirtless, grease-stained mechanics, longtime buddies, face off in an old garage. "I've got a score to settle with you, buddy." To resolve their differences one subjects the other to rough sex, tied to his own workbench.

************ In the previous chapter *************

The handsome police officer Mark was feeling very good about his boy Jamie. Mark said to his friend Bob, the co-leader of the tribe, "God, he's beautiful, isn't he Bob? I am so proud of my boy – he has matured into just the kind of guy I had hoped for."

Mark rewarded Jamie with a week's vacation, driving him out to the desert to stay in the Palm Springs home of the tribe's friend, the middle-aged Uncle Mike, as he was known to the tribe, and his boy Larry.

Jamie and Larry were about the same age, and they had a history. Years ago they had been a pair of skinheads running wild on the streets until they ran up against the tribe. Mark had glimpsed some good in Jamie and had taken him on as his boy. Larry had gone back to an abusive family in St. Louis where he had spent several miserable years until, bitter and resentful, he had run away, back to California and sought out his only friend, his old pal Jamie.

Mike had met Larry at the tribe's house and, despite the difference in their ages, a friendship had blossomed into a May/December love affair. But now, on the drive to Palm Springs, Jamie told Mark that he suspected Larry was in trouble. "I think he's got big problems."

"Poor kid," Mark said. "He had it rough and never had much of a chance until he met Mike and they fell in love. But you know what they say – you can take the boy off the streets but you can't take the street out of the boy. I guess he still has that bad seed buried deep inside."

When they got to Palm Springs Jamie's worst fears were confirmed. Larry was wired and said right away, "Listen, I was about to make a run out to Hassan's little old house way out there in the desert. You know Mike and me keep an eye on it for him. Wanna come?"

Driving out to the small house isolated in the sand dunes the truth spilled out. Larry was talking non-stop and Jamie said, "Larry, are you tweaking? You on speed? Crystal meth is it?"

"I just use it recreationally, dude. Man, you should try it for watching porn. I can jack off for hours, it's unbelievable." So what if I can't get a hard-on. This is, like, real cerebral."

Jamie himself had once briefly used meth when he fell in with the wrong crowd at the beach. Mark had reacted angrily and almost threw him out, which had made Jamie come to his senses real fast and he now hated the stuff as much as Mark did. "Does Mike know?" Jamie asked.

"Nah, can't tell him, he'd kick me out on my ear. That's why it's so good that you're here, dude – we can party together. And no need to tell Mark, eh? Just between you and me?"

When they got to the house in the dunes Larry led a hesitant Jamie down the stairs to the dark mirrored basement, a gym-cum-playroom where many fantasies had been played out in the past. Larry was still flying and Jamie tried to persuade him to sit down and talk it through. "OK bro," Larry said, "but let's do a quick bump first. We came out here `cos I keep my stash here."

Larry found his stash bag and snorted a couple of lines. Jamie refused and pleaded with Larry for them to go back to Mike's house. "OK," Larry said, "but we gotta make a stop on the way at my dealer's. Gotta replenish my supply."

Jamie had had enough and he jumped to his feet. "Obviously you're not gonna listen to me, dude, but maybe Mark can knock some sense into you."

Larry shot back, "That sanctimonious cop would only bust me and throw my ass in jail. You're high and mighty now just like him. You used to be my pal when we lived on the streets. Now you're this mister big-shot office manager or whatever the hell you call yourself, living with your gorgeous cop, while I'm stuck out here in the fucking desert. I gotta do something for fun."

"Well I sure as hell am not gonna go with you to your fucking dealer, Larry."

"Damn right you're not, `cos you'd get your cop to bust him too and then the shit would really hit the fan. No, asshole, you're not going anywhere." He took a swing at Jamie and in seconds they were grappling on the floor. With the unnatural strength of a guy high on meth, Larry grabbed Jamie's head, banged his forehead against the mirror and stunned him. When his head cleared Jamie found himself sitting on the floor against one of the upright support beams, his hands tied behind it. Instinctively he yanked at the ropes but they were bound tight.

"Yeah," Larry sneered, "ironic ain't it? Your buddy Randy once taught me all about knots and tying ropes. Bet he never thought I'd be using it on the cop's boy."

"Larry, please, you're only making this ten times worse. When Mark finds out how you ..."

"Well maybe he won't find out `cos I won't tell him. I gotta think this through." Then he frowned became plaintive. "Jamie, we were such good buddies, I loved you, dude, like a brother. But we've turned out different – like one good brother and one who's just plain bad. But don't ya see? I need this meth shit to make me feel good, and I can't let you fuck everything up, Jamie."

His touched Jamie's forehead. "You OK, dude? I didn't mean to hurt you, buddy ... and I didn't mean those things I said about you and Mark. You're a good guy, Jamie, and so is Mark, but Mark's still a cop, and cops think only one way. I'm real sorry about all this but don't worry, dude, I'll come back and release you once my head's cleared a bit. It won't take long."

He kissed him on the head and there were tears in his eyes as he said, I love you, dude, I really do. I hope you can believe that." He left and minutes later Jamie heard the truck roar away.

Jamie's eyes brimmed with tears too, not from fear but from sorrow. He felt desperately sorry for Larry. They had been buddies, good buddies, and they probably still were somewhere in this wreckage. But he'd had the luck to be the good brother, thanks to Mark, while Larry still had that bad-brother seed growing inside him. And Larry had been right. Mark was a cop and Jamie knew exactly how harshly he would react. What a mess.

At Mike's house Mark was starting to get anxious. "They've been gone a long time, Mike. Where do you think they went?"

"Not sure," Mike shrugged. "These days I'm not sure about anything. Except one thing, Mark. I'm pretty sure I know what the problem is with Larry. Drugs. God knows after all these years out here I can recognize the signs. Just when things were going so well, too. We were as much in love as ever, he worked hard and had repaid all the money I put up for his bike repair shop.

"But he's different with me now, and he's neglecting his business. But I can't throw him out, Mark, I love him so much. I'm not getting any younger and this kid is probably my last best hope for love. I'm scared of losing him and I was pinning my hopes on Jamie, a friend his own age. Maybe he can connect with Larry."

They heard a car door slam and soon Larry came in looking wild, disheveled, eyes dilated, grinding his teeth. "Larry," Mark said, "where's Jamie. Is he with you?"

"No he's not," Larry growled and turned away. Mark tensed. "Mike, the boy's as high as a fucking kite." He spun Larry round. "Answer me boy. Where the hell is Jamie? What's happened to him?"

Mark clenched his fists and Mike's eyes filled with tears.

********************* CHAPTER 415 ***********************

Larry clenched his jaw in sullen defiance as Mark yelled again, "Tell me, boy, what have you done to Jamie? God dammit if you don't talk I'll fucking arrest you and ..."

"And what?" Larry whirled round wild-eyed and sneered. "You'll fuck my ass, drag me to jail and let your buddies fuck me. I know how you cops are. I told Jamie I ain't going back to jail. I ain't done nothin' wrong."

Mark reached down, grabbed Larry's arm to pull him off the bed but Larry held the bed tight and wouldn't budge. Mike intervened and try to pull Mark back. "Back off, Mark, this ain't doing no good. Can't you see he's ill? Throwing him in jail ain't the answer."

Tempers flared and the anger mounted. "He's damn well gonna tell me where Jamie is. Get out of my way, Mike. I have to protect my boy."

"And I have to protect mine, officer. From police brutality."

"Fuck you, man. The kid's wasted – in that state he could have done anything to Jamie."

"Let me talk to him then. He'll tell me."

"Oh yeah? You don't seem to have done such a great job so far, letting the boy run wild, out of his mind on drugs."

Mike glared at Mark. "Fuck you, boy, you don't talk to me like that. You may think you're the law but not around here you're not. This is my house – I'm the boss and I can throw you out like I'd throw a noisy drunk out of my bar."

All of Mark's cop instincts kicked in and he was preparing to use force on both men ...

And then his cell phone rang.

After Larry had driven away from the isolated house Jamie had calmly reviewed his situation. He couldn't get free. Maybe Randy had taught Larry how to tie knots but had evidently not told him about the escape knot. There was no escape.

Worse, they had not told Mark and Mike where they were going. And in his wild drugged out state and his paranoid delusions about going back to prison, Larry was hardly likely to tell them where he had left him. No knowing when Larry might come to his senses Jamie couldn't rely on him to come back and untie him. Oh, he had expressed his love for Jamie before he left, but Jamie knew that on meth paranoia obliterated common sense.

He knew Mark would be frantic to find him. Maybe he would try to beat it out of Larry, but Jamie hoped not. In spite of everything Jamie felt hugely sorry for him. He liked Larry, had loved him like a brother, and he felt a strong impulse to help him solve his problems.

Mark would certainly come looking for him but it might take him a long time before he came out this far and checked on this lonely house. No use yelling either. There wasn't another soul for miles. He felt helpless and increasingly nervous. He could die out here ... "Shut up, Jamie, and get a grip," he murmured.

He thought of a possibility, though it was a long shot. His cell phone was in his shorts pocket, but that wasn't much good with his hands tied behind him. But just maybe ... He drew his heels toward him raised his hips and tried to bounce. He felt the phone jiggle in his pocket but it was in too far.

He took a deep breath and concentrated. Next he managed to twist his hips onto his side so the phone was between him and the floor. His wrists were starting to chafe behind him but he scraped his hip back and forth against the floor and felt the phone change position in his pocket. It took a while, and it hurt, but he managed to move the phone bit by bit until ... it fell out on the floor – face down. "Fuck," he said out loud.

He scooted on his ass round the pole so his bound hands were on the other side and he could touch the phone. By stretching painfully behind him he managed to flip it over on the floor. He scooted back to his original position and looked down at the phone beside him ... face up!"

Stretching to the side, scraping his arms against the pole, he could just get his finger to the phone. So far so good, but the biggest challenge came next. He knew from past experience that the cellphone signal out here was weak and spotty. And worse, he was down in the basement. Chances were not good. He pressed speaker, then contacts, then the button for Mark ... and held his breath. It dialed and ... `Call Failed.'

Damn. He could just see the signal bars on the phone flickering from none to one or two. So he kept trying. After three tries it dialed, and rang! Mark's urgent voice ... "Hello."

Jamie yelled down to the floor, "Hassan's House ... tied up." He looked down at the phone and it was dead, no signal. Had it failed before he spoke? Had Mark heard him? The phone was dead now, so nothing to do but wait. He leaned his head against the pole, closed his eyes and tried to visualize Mark jumping in his truck and racing out here to him.

The silence was what really got to Jamie. Down here in the basement he could not even hear the desert breeze or the repetitive chirp of the cicadas. He felt a sense of desolation, totally alone and possibly nobody knowing where he was except a strung-out guy who wouldn't tell.

He tried to stay calm, think positive. He wasn't sure how long he sat there on the floor, bound to a post – not long really – when he thought he did hear a sound. Yes, a vehicle, a door slam, then footsteps on the floor above. Maybe Larry had come back, Jamie thought, and planned how to reason with him.

But then ... his heart leapt. Mark's voice shouting "Jamie ... Jamie!"

"Down here, sir," he yelled as loud as he could. Footsteps on the stairs, the door opened and Mark burst in.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck? Are you alright, Jamie?" Mark went to work on the ropes. "I'm fine sir ...wrists a bit chafed is all."

"And a cut on your forehead. Did he do this ... your pal Larry?"

"Yeah, we scuffled ... but Larry's not well. He has a problem."

"Damn right he does ... with me!"

Mark's concern for his boy was quickly superseded by anger at Larry. "Damn him!" he growled. But when he pulled Jamie gently to his feet and into his arms his relief at holding his boy alive and well tempered his anger. "OK, let's get you out of here and take a look at that cut."

Mark put his arm round his waist but Jamie said. "I'm OK, sir, I really am. I can walk. But when he bent down to pick up his phone from the floor his head spun and he lurched forward. Mark caught him, steadied him, and Jamie said, "Just a bit dizzy, sir, that's all."

Sit there for a minute, kid, and take a few deep breaths before we tackle the stairs. Jamie sat down and Mark looked around the room. His professional cop's eye saw the remaining specks of powder on the table where Larry had snorted the lines. He wet his finger, touched the powder and licked it. "Meth." He looked down at Jamie. "Did you do any of this stuff, boy?"

"Sir!" Jamie said indignantly.

"I'm sorry, Jamie, of course you didn't. I'm sorry." Mark saw the small bag lying on the floor by the table, picked it up and looked inside. "This is his stash, I suppose. Well he won't need this where he's going." He shoved the bag in the waistband of his shorts, helped Jamie up again and supported him toward the stairs.

A few minutes later they were in the truck and Mark gave him some water, then opened a small first-aid kit. He sterilized the small wound on Jamie's face and put a Band-Aid on it. "Not deep. You'll probably have a bruise though. How'd it happen?

"I hit my head against a mirror."

"You mean he banged your head against it."

As they drove away from the house Jamie could see Mark was seething and that worried him more than any other aspect of the whole affair. When Mark was in cop mode he played it by the book and could be implacable. His own words bore this out.

"I'm gonna throw the fucking book at that asshole – assault and battery, kidnapping, not to mention possession of a Grade A drug."

"Sir, please don't say that. Larry's not a criminal, he's just got a medical problem."

"Medical problem?!" Mark barked. "Jamie, he's a fucking addict. He'll do anything for his next fix. He attacked you, tied you up, left you in that cellar, and wouldn't tell anyone where you were. You could have died in there and that would have been negligent homicide. That would have put him away for life. I could have lost you Jamie ... I can't imagine life without you. That kid is a threat to himself and to others, the definition of a person who needs incarceration."

Jamie sighed, not sure how to respond. Finally he said determinedly, "Sir, please pull over. Please pull over and stop."

Mark thought the boy wasn't feeling well so pulled to the side of the road and stopped. He turned and faced Jamie who stared at him with steady blue eyes. "Sir ..." He cleared his voice. "Sir, would you please stop thinking like a cop and think like a man, like the generous man I know and love?"

Mark tensed and clenched his fists. "Fuck you, boy, if you think I'm gonna ..."

"You can hit me if you like, sir, but I'm gonna have my say. Larry was my friend a long time ago and we looked out for each other. Our paths diverged and I got lucky and became your boy while he went back to a place where no one loved him. But when he ran away from there and came back here he was still my buddy ... and he still is. And now he's in trouble. And when a friend's in trouble I gotta help him, sir. It's what friends do. Sure, he acted stupidly and hurt me a bit, but real friends take stuff like that."

Mark unclenched his fist and remained silent while Jamie chose his words carefully. "Sir, do you remember when you found me with some surfer bums doing drugs? You reacted like you just did now. You went apeshit, said I was no longer your boy and you were gonna throw me out. You took me to get this tattoo removed, this one right here on my arm that you gave me to prove I was your boy and you loved me. It was the most precious thing I had so I ran away.

"But you know what happened? You told me what you told me just now – you couldn't imagine life without me, so you came after me and took me back. You know why? Because you loved me, and in the end you forgave me. If you hadn't we wouldn't be here now and I'd be back on the streets again. Well I love Larry enough to forgive him too."

Jamie's voice got gentler. "I remember what young Brandon once said to me. He's had a tough life in a wheelchair but said that even when the going gets rough he always looks for the love in people, and he found that in spades from the tribe. He told me if I ever I felt confused, I should just let love guide me and I'd be OK. And ... and that's what I'm trying to do right now, sir, with my pal Larry. Because he needs love now more than ever."

There was a long silence in the truck. Then Mark started the engine and, his jaw clenched, he drove them back to Mike's house without saying another word.

When they pulled up at the house Mike was at the gate waiting for them. They got out and Mark said gruffly, "Where's the boy?"

"He's in his room, sleeping."

"He's probably crashing," Jamie said. "It's what they call it when a guy comes down after a few days' `run' of meth. He crashes and falls into a deep sleep. He could sleep 12 hours or more."

"Not before I've ..." Mark said making for the gate but Mike grabbed him and held him back. "You're not gonna touch him, boy. That kid is mine, under my protection and I don't care if you're the toughest cop on the beat, you don't go near him."

Mark yanked his arm away and glared at him, but suddenly Jamie leaned against the truck and said faintly, "Sir, I'm feeling a bit ... could I go to bed, sir?"

Mark's concern for his boy again banished all other thoughts. "Sure you can, kid, I should have thought of that. I'll come with you."

As they left Jamie threw his arms round Mike in a tight hug and said in his ear, "Don't worry, sir. It's gonna be OK, I promise. I'll take care of Larry."

When they reached the guest bedroom Mark watched as Jamie took his clothes off, a sight that always roused Mark. And now was no exception, in spite of his tension and convoluted feelings. "Kiddo, you should get some sleep too. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm feeling fine, sir. But there is something you can do for me."

"Anything, Jamie."

"Please make love to me, sir. I need that so bad right now."

He lay naked on the bed just as he did every day when Mark came home from work, and gazed up at him nervously. Mark said, "You are so beautiful, Jamie. Inside too, where it really counts. It wasn't you I was angry at. I couldn't be angry with you."

"I don't want you to be angry with anyone, sir."

"I know, Jamie, but when you didn't come home with Larry and he was so stoned out of his mind, I panicked. Then you called and all I heard was `Hassan's house, tied ...' then the phone went dead. I was frantic, and when I saw you tied up in that room with a cut on your face, I reacted as any cop would, especially a cop sworn to protect his boy. My reaction was to throw the book at the man who did that to you. I've still gotta decide what to do to him."

"Sir," Jamie said plaintively. "Please make love to me. I want it so bad."

Mark smiled at last. "And you don't think I do? Look here." Mark dropped his shorts and his cock sprang out hard and hungry. Let's forget all this for a while and pretend I've just come home from my shift, horny as usual."

"Sounds good to me, sir." Jamie stared up at the cop as he stripped naked and towered over him. Trembling with anticipation Jamie threw his arms above his head, slid his heels back on the bed, raised his legs and offered his ass to his master as he did every single day.

Mark knelt on the bed between his legs, leaned forward and pinned Jamie's arms to the bed. He bent down and brushed his lips across Jamie's mouth, lightly at first, teasing, then harder into a passionate open-mouthed kiss, their tongues playing with each other as they exchanged breaths. Finally Mark pulled his face back and smiled. "Feel safe now?"

"Safe as houses, sir. Thank you for rescuing me."

"Any time, kiddo. It comes with a price though ... this." Still holding him down Mark rubbed the head of his cock against his boy's ass. "You want this?"

"Hmm ... not really." Then he smiled the mischievous smile Mark loved so much. "Just kidding!"

"Kidding or not you're gonna get it, boy. Go on, ask me."

Jamie stared up at the square-cut, Greek-God features with the blue-gray eyes and tousled blond hair. "I want it so bad. Please, sir, fuck me ... fuck your boy's ass. Let me feel it, sir."

"Like this?" Mark pushed the head of his cock against his hole until it popped over the sphincter and rested in the warm inside.

"Aaaah," Jamie sighed. "When I feel that it makes everything right. Make love to my ass, sir."

"I'll do better than that, kiddo. I'll make love to you – my favorite thing in life."

And so he did. Smiling into his boy's wide blue eyes he slid his cock slowly into his ass. When at last it touched the sensitive depths Jamie gasped and pre-cum started to ooze from the head.

"Don't you cum boy. Long way to go yet."

"Easier said than not done, sir," Jamie grinned. "You being the most gorgeous man on the planet and all."

"Flattery may not get you everywhere, boy, but it'll sure get you the finest fuck the police force can offer."

The banter died down as they got down to business. It was a long, tender, loving fuck. Yesterday they had played out the fantasy of the cop and his prisoner and Mark had fucked the young jock hard to punish his captive. But this was different – different time and place, and different need. There had been so much tension, fear and ugliness today that now was a time for healing. Their love-making now was a catharsis – equal parts affection, remorse, reconciliation and affirmation. Look for the love ...

And so the cop and the surfer made long leisurely love, kissing and licking while the master's cock massaged the boy's ass, bringing him close to his climax many times, then pulling back and starting again.

Mark released Jamie's arms and braced his hands instead on the bed by his face. Jamie reached up, ran his hands over the slaps of Mark's pecs and traced the cleft between them, feeling the muscles flex under the light covering of blond hair. He bumped his fingers over the ridges of his eight-pack abs, then down to the nest of blond pubic hair and curled his hand round the shaft as it eased in and out of his ass.

It went on and on, changing tempo, changing position. Mark pushed Jamie on his stomach and stared down at the perfect white globes and his own cock moving rhythmically in and out of it. He pressed his hands on the small of his back holding him down while he rode his ass. Soon Jamie was on his side, looking back over his shoulder and kissing Mark who leaned over to his face as he fucked him.

Finally they reverted to their original position, Jamie on his back, his legs over Mark's shoulders as the cop gazed down at him and stayed still, his cock buried in his ass. "Jamie, whatever happens, never forget, never doubt that I love you. You're my beautiful boy and always will be. God knows I'm not perfect, and you're right, sometimes I act more like a cop than a man."

"I know you love me, sir – I do now. For a long time I was insecure, always afraid you might stop loving me, but eventually I wised up and saw the truth."

Mark smiled. "Wised up – good choice of words, kiddo. In some ways you're wiser than me, even though you're younger. You and Brandon too, it seems. What was it he told you? When the going gets rough he looks for the love in people – let love guide you and you'll be OK'? Man, that kid knows a thing or two – words to live by."

"Words to fuck to also, sir," Jamie grinned. "Things did get rough a while ago but look at us now ... we found love ... didn't have to look far, it never went away. So now would you make me cum, sir, without me touching myself? You can always do that."

"How long d'you think that'll take, stud? How many seconds?" Pinning Jamie's arms to the bed again, Mark pulled back his dormant but still hard cock, paused, then drove it in again, deeper this time. A few more thrusts and Jamie's body was shuddering. "You gonna cum for me Jamie?" Mark smiled. "Show me you still love me even though I behaved like a cop?"

"Is that an order, officer?"

"Damn right it is."

"OK sir, here it comes ... oh fuck it feels so good. I love you, sir ... I'm gonna cum ... aaaah ..."

The sight of Jamie's cock spurting jizz over his tanned, muscular young body thrilled Mark and he moaned, "Ah yeah, that's it kid ... so fucking beautiful ... yeaaah ..." Jamie felt his master's cock erupt in his ass and flood it with his juice – the healing balm that makes everything right – even when the going gets rough.

They lay in each other's arms in silence for a while catching their breath. Jamie had a faraway look in his eyes and Mark asked him, "What you thinking about, buddy?"

Jamie sighed, "I was thinking about Mike. He loves Larry so much. It must be so tough to watch someone you love go through this shit, as if he's slipping away from you."

Mark sat up suddenly. "Dammit you're right. I gotta go to him."

"Sir," Jamie said anxiously, "please don't be ..."

"Don't worry, Jamie. After what we just did ... you straightened me out. Young Brandon always looks for love, you say. That's what Mike must be doing right now – and he ain't finding it anywhere. Damn I've been a fool." He got up, pulled on his boxers and left the room.

He looked quickly round the house and in the garden but there was no sign of him. Larry's room. Must be there. The door was closed and he opened it quietly. Inside the dimly lit bedroom Larry was fast asleep and Mike was sitting by the bed gazing down at him. Mike's shoulders were hunched and his cheeks streaked with tears.

He was unaware that Mark had come in – unaware of anything but his sleeping boy. Mark walked silently across the room, came up behind Mike and laid his hand gently on his shoulder. As if in a daze Mike simply placed his hand over Mark's, not shifting his gaze away from Larry.

Mark sat beside him and spoke softly. "He's doing just the right thing, Mike – sleeping. Like Jamie said, after a run of meth it's what they call crashing. The body's natural reaction, restoring itself, letting the metabolism get back to normal. He'll sleep long and deep. Probably won't wake until tomorrow morning."

Mike turned his head away from Larry and looked at Mark through tired, pained eyes. "And when he does wake are you gonna arrest my boy for possession and what he did to Jamie?"

"No, Mike, no. I'm so sorry I said all those things to you. I was scared and angry and my cop instincts blinded me to the values of friendship. But Jamie put me right. I just made love to him, and that's what you and Larry will be doing again before long – after we've taken care of him. Can you forgive me for being such a poor friend?"

Mike managed a watery smile. "Ah, don't beat yourself up, boy. Friends go through stuff like that, and you were only trying to protect your boy, like I was mine – still am."

"Yeah, and that's the priority now, Mike, looking after your boy. Right now, after all those drugs, he needs to hydrate. What you have to do is wake him up enough to give him water. He won't be aware what's going on but he'll drink, then go back to sleep. I'll get the water.

He went to the bathroom and came back with a full glass. With some difficulty Mike lifted Larry's head up and he half woke, bleary eyed. Mark held the glass to his lips and he managed to swallow most of it. Mike lowered him gently back on the bed and he fell again into a deep sleep.

Jamie came into the room and said, "I'll be happy to sit and watch him if you like, sir, so you can get some rest."

"Thanks, Jamie," Mike said, "but I'll stay with him a while longer and then I think it's enough if we just check in on him from time to time." Mike looked at them both and smiled. "Helluva welcome we've given you guys. This is supposed to be your vacation and you fall into this big pile of shit. I'm sorry, guys, really sorry."

Mark grinned, "Mike I'll do a deal with you. I'll stop apologizing if you stop apologizing."

"Deal," Mike said. "Hey you two must be hungry. I should ..."

"You should do nothing, Mike. Jamie and me can rattle around in the kitchen, set up drinks and pull together something to eat. Half an hour OK?"

Mike agreed and turned his gaze back to Larry, feeling a lot easier in his mind.

And so the dust settled. Larry was safely in bed deep in sleep as the three men sat in the garden over wine and a light meal. Mike had left the French windows of Larry's room open onto the garden so they could hear in the unlikely event that he should wake and call out.

But their conversation was not about Larry at first. Mike didn't want to dwell on the subject so he asked for all the gossip on the long saga of Miguel's new boy Finn. They told him of Finn's rocky introduction to the tribe, including his initial rejection by Pablo.

"Ah, the boss's boy," Mike chuckled. "Only to be expected that young stud would throw his weight around at first. He's so much like his dad Randy. Randy has to test every man who's new to the tribe so Pablo does the same with new boys. But I hear you put him in his place, Jamie. I've had to do the same with Randy several times. I know how to deal with him. When I call him `boy' I think he's a bit afraid of me."

"Well you're the only guy he is afraid off," Mark said. "Except Bob. Bob can make Randy do anything – jump off the roof if he asked him to."

Jamie laughed, "That would be no big deal for Randy. If he jumped off the roof he'd get right up without a scratch and walk away. But you know, young Finn is a tough kid too. He took it all in stride. Until he came face to face with Grady. That struck him dumb. Seems he went to see Grady's Tarzan movie several times and beat his meat each time – usually at the scene where Tarzan is tied up and whipped.

"And suddenly there he was in the gorgeous flesh, larger than life. Finn thought he had died and gone to heaven when he and Grady played out the fantasy where the beaten Tarzan lay on the ground and Finn fucked him."

They were happy to see Mike roar with laughter. "Damn, I should come into town and drop in on you guys more often. When I'm with your crowd I always feel I'm in the middle of a porn movie." Pretty soon, when they had relaxed after a few glasses of wine and lots of laughter Mike felt more comfortable getting back to the subject of Larry.

"Guys, I'm feeling out of my depth with this problem – a new feeling for me. As a longtime bar owner I've had to toss out many drunks in my time. "And if anyone is high on drugs I give them a list of 12-step programs and treatment places – and then throw them out. You have to be on the lookout for signs of anyone using or dealing drugs in a bar. Zero tolerance on that ... could lose my license faster than you can say methamphetamine – as you well know, Mark, as a cop."

"Yeah, I'm often called on to respond to situations like that. Always a tough one."

Mike sighed. "But when it's a guy you love it's a whole different ball-game. Conventional wisdom calls for tough love – don't enable them, keep your distance. 'Course I can't do that with Larry. He's my boy and I love him. But when he finally wakes up ..." he shrugged "... what then?"

Jamie put his hand on Mike's wrist. "Sir, you know that a long time ago I fell into the same trap as Larry. Hung out with this gnarly group of surfers at the beach and did crystal with them. But Mark stumbled across us and went predictably apeshit. Talk about tough love ... but he didn't throw me out. But it was kinda rough to shake off the need for another bump of the stuff now and again, and Larry will be the same."

"So, how did you beat it, kiddo?" Mike asked eagerly.

"Work. The company had a big new project and Brandon was struggling in the office. He pleaded for my help – partly because he needed it and partly to help me, I think. That kid is incredible. He sensed the problem and instinctively knew what would help – hard work. So he threw problems at me and I got so immersed in them I didn't have the time or inclination for another bump. I think it would help Larry too, sir."

"You're probably right, Jamie, but the bar is out. Can't have hm working there again yet. That place has all the triggers that made him use in the first place – guy he met there. Working there would send him right back."

"What about the bike repair shop, sir?"

Mike heaved a sigh. "He hasn't been there in weeks. It's badly neglected. I don't see how ..."

"Let me try, sir. I remember when you first bought the place for him it was a total mess and I helped him clean it up."

"Yeah," Mark grinned, "and when he came back you were both filthy – two shirtless mechanics covered in grease. God knows what you got up to – some homoerotic fantasy by the look of it."

"Well, let's just say Larry and I christened the place and got to know each other a whole lot better, sir. But Uncle Mike, would you let me talk to Larry tomorrow about the repair shop?"

"Hey, if you can get through to the boy, it would be a load off my mind. But at the first signs of trouble you back off. I don't want you hurt again, Jamie."

"No sweat, Mike," Mark grinned. "I'll make sure that don't happen. This here's my boy."

That night, before Mark and Jamie went to their guestroom, Mike asked them to help him move a small single bed into Larry's room. He wanted to sleep near Larry, but sleeping with him might wake him up. Hence the spare bed which they managed to move in quietly.

Larry didn't wake up all night and slept, as Jamie had predicted, right through to the next morning. When he finally stirred Mike came and sat by his bed. Larry opened his eyes blearily, winced and shut them. He frowned, opened his eyes again and gazed up at the ceiling in confusion. As memory came slowly back he groaned, "Oh shit ... oh shit ..." His gaze came into focus and he found himself looking up at Mike. His voice was hoarse.

"Oh ... you're still here, sir. Are you gonna throw me out?"

"No Larry. I'm not gonna throw you out. I love you."

"Did ... did Mark and Jamie leave? Or is the cop hanging around to arrest me?"

"No, kiddo. They're still here and Mark is not going to arrest you. And I'm not gonna throw you out, because I love you. But because I love you I am gonna ask you to listen to Jamie. He's been a real good friend through all this. He's worried about you and wants to help. You should drink this water here, plenty of it, then take a nice hot shower."

Larry was too confused and weak to object. He took a long drink of water then let Mike help him up and into the shower. The hot water went a long way to reviving him and he started to actually feel good. The long sleep had helped to restore his body and the residual effect of the drugs still numbed his brain like the mellow after-effects of an anesthetic.

He let the water stream over his face and body for some time, then dried off, wrapped a towel round his waist and emerged into the bedroom where Jamie stood smiling at him. Larry saw the Band-Aid on his forehead, memory came flooding back, and he winced. "What you still hanging around for, dude? Thought you'd have had enough of crazy Larry by now. You waiting around for the next crisis?"

"Dude, the next crisis has already hit – in the kitchen. I was trying to pull breakfast together but I fucked up big time. I burned the toast, then tried to make an omelet but when I broke the eggs they slipped out of my hand and on the floor. It's a slippery mess. I'm hopeless, Larry, and I really need your help."

Larry smiled weakly. "As I recall you never were any great shakes in the kitchen, dude. But OK, the cavalry's coming to the rescue. Let's go and see what we can salvage." He pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and Jaimie followed him to the kitchen.

"Holy shit, what a fucking mess. You're a real fuckup, dude, you know that? OK, there's the mop. You clean up the floor while I do more eggs and toast."

Jamie grabbed the mop and smiled to himself as he swabbed the floor. Hardly a fuckup, Jamie was working cunningly to portray Larry as the expert, boost his confidence and make him concentrate on work.

Soon order was restored and Larry was giving the orders. "Fresh juice in the fridge. Get out the yoghurt and berries, Mike likes that, and put the coffee on. You do know how to make coffee, don't you?"

He caught Jamie grinning to himself and stopped cooking. "Fuck you, dude," he said with a wry smile, "you planned all this didn't you?"

Jamie smiled and opened his arms. "Come here, asshole." Larry hesitated, then stumbled forward into a warm hug and his confidence collapsed.

"Shit, Jamie, why are you being so decent to me after what I did to you? Damn, I can't believe I behaved like that. I'm sorry, dude. It was the drugs, I wasn't thinking straight, I couldn't ..."

"Larry, Larry, that's in the past, and we gotta concentrate now on the future."

"But Jamie it'll happen again, you know it will. I'm scared, Jamie. See it's got to the point where I need that stuff ... it's something inside me that ... I can't kick it. It's me that's the real fuckup."

"Larry, cast your mind back to those days when we were running wild getting into all kinds of crazy trouble. While you were ranting and raving who was it that got us out of all the scrapes?"

"You did, bro."

"Damn right, and I'm gonna help you now – you gotta let me. But first things first ... the toast is burning again."

As they resumed working Jamie said casually, "Er, that repair shop of yours. How's that going?"

"It's not, dude. I kinda gave up. It's a fucking mess."

"Well what say after breakfast we go take a look? Hell, we cleaned it up once, remember? We can do it again." Larry looked confused and was about to protest, but Jamie said, "Please, Larry, we're buddies, we go back a long way. Please let me help. It's what friends do."

Larry grinned. "Fuck you, Jamie, you always were the bossy one."

"Good. I'll take that as a yes."

Breakfast in the garden under the morning sun was a surprisingly peaceful affair after all the angst and drama of yesterday. Mark and Mike had decided to leave the field clear for Jamie to do his thing. Mark still harbored some residual resentment against Larry for hurting Jamie, and Mike was still confused and anxious inside. By contrast Jamie was bright and talkative and kept Larry amused with stories of the tribe and the saga of Finn.

"Man, I wish I'd been at the Grady House for that scene where Grady played the young lord of the manor getting butt-fucked by Finn the gardener. Who told you about that, Jamie?"

"Eddie of course, the fountain of all the gossip in the tribe."

"He's such a great kid," Larry said. "I miss him."

It was Larry who eventually brought up the repair shop. "Sir," he said to Mike, "Jamie and me were thinking of driving over to the shop to check on things. Would that be OK with you?"

"Sure, why not?" Mike said casually. He was privately thrilled that Jamie had managed to persuade him but didn't want to intervene in Jamie's subtle act of steering Larry toward work. Mark smiled and nodded at Jamie in silent encouragement.

And so, half an hour later, they were in Larry's truck driving the short distance to the workshop, and Larry tentatively brought up a touchy subject. "Er, do you know what Mark did with my stash, dude? Did he flush it?"

Jamie smiled, "He said he destroyed it, but he didn't flush it. You're not supposed to flush drugs down the toilet unless you want a bunch of fishes swimming around stoned to the gills."

Larry smiled at Jamie's joke but felt a pang of panic at having none of the stuff ready to hand. The fear of all users was being unable to satisfy their craving. Jamie sensed the sudden tension but fortunately they were pulling up to the repair shop in a small cluster of old garages.

Larry unlocked the bottom of the roll-up door and pushed it all the way up. "Jesus," Larry groaned as they went inside the garage and he flipped on the light. It was a sorry sight. The floor was a greasy mess where an oil drum had leaked over it. Scattered all over the place were empty oil cans, tools, bike parts and other assorted debris, and the skeleton of an old bike Larry had been cannibalizing for parts.

As they surveyed the wreckage Jamie flashed on what it must have been like for Larry all alone in this desolate little garage working hard to repay Mike and build the business. His heart went out to him again. But he said cheerfully, "Well, better get started."

The place had been shut up for so long, with the desert sun beating down on it, that it was stuffy and like a furnace. They were both wearing jeans, boots and old T-shirts, and the shirts came off right away in the stifling heat. The cleanup was hard work but they both felt something gratifying about working together, buddies again.

As they worked they stole admiring glances at each other. Jamie, of course, had the lithe muscled body of a surfer. Larry had formerly worked out hard at the gym, though not recently. But the drug increased his metabolism and dehydrated him so the muscles of his fat-free body were ripped.

There was a small trash dumpster outside that filled up quickly and, after a couple of hours, the space was looking a whole lot better and more organized. "Let's take a beer break," Larry said. "I think the mini-fridge in the back office is still on and there should be some left."

A few minutes later they were lounging in the old metal chairs in the small office knocking back the beer, their bare chests and faces smothered in grease and sweat. Larry grinned, "Damn, looks like all the oil and dirt's come off the floor and onto us. You are a fucking mess, dude – and it looks good on you."

"You're looking pretty swift yourself, bro. Man that body is real cut, not an ounce of fat. Looks terrific." They drank in silence for a while, then Jamie took a chance. "You may not wanna hear this, dude, but all the time we were working I had a boner in my jeans. Kinda reminded me of that first day we came here and cleaned the place up and ended up looking like we do now."

"Yeah, I remember," Larry said tepidly, feeling the ice get thin under his feet.

Jamie said, "And you remember how that ended up – you holding me down on the workbench and fucking my ass? Man, you were rough. I swore I'd turn the tables and get my own back on you, but I never did – not so far anyway," he grinned suggestively.

Larry shifted uncomfortably avoiding eye contact. Then he gazed at Jamie. "I gotta level with you, dude. That shit I been doing ... it has a weird effect on a guy. Makes you feel great, real sexy, and I can watch porn for six, eight hours beating my meat. But it's kinda all in the mind – not in my dick. Can't get a hard-on and it's difficult to cum, but it don't matter `cos I feel so damn high just stroking my limp dick and watching the porn."

He paused and took another swig of beer. "Downside is that it spoils you for any other kind of sex. When a guy on crystal comes onto another guy in a bar, first thing he asks is `do you party' – code for crystal. It's a whole different kind of sex, and you can't have it any other way. It's why I haven't had sex with Mike for weeks. I still love the hell out of the guy. If only I could get him to do a bump or two and party with me ..."

He saw Jamie stiffen and quickly added, "No, scratch that, dude. That was a stupid thing to say, crazy talk. I would never insult Mike like that. But what I mean is, like right now. Sure, part of me would love to have you take your revenge – that old fantasy of two sweaty, greasy mechanics fucking. I been looking at you too, buddy, and you are more fucking gorgeous than ever. But I can't fuck with you, not like we did before, `cos regular sex is not the same anymore and I couldn't get it up anyway. Nobody wants to fuck a guy with a limp dick."

"I do."

Larry blinked. He wasn't sure if he had heard Jamie right. "You ... what?"

"Larry, watching you working hard out there, all sweaty and smothered in oil, got me real stoked. I looked at that workbench and imagined you ... Ah, never mind."

Larry saw the disappointment on his buddy's face and said, "All you wanna do is fuck me, dude? Like payback for that first time here? Jamie, I love you, dude. You've been a real friend though all this crap so ... well, if a limp dick wouldn't put you off ... I guess I could give it a try."

Jamie laughed. "Hell, not the most enthusiastic come-on line I've ever heard but, what the fuck, let's `give it a try' as you say. But we gotta do it right." Jamie went out to the main workshop and pulled the garage door down shut. He switched off the fluorescent lights leaving only one bare bulb hanging down over the workbench, then looked around – good, plenty of ropes.

"OK, stud. Get your ass out here."

A few minutes later the shirtless blond jock paced round the workbench saying, "Fucking hot, dude. Man that looks good."

He was staring down at the handsome, dark-haired mechanic lying on his back on the workbench, his bare chest and face streaked with grease. Beltless black jeans clung to his slim waist, his ass hanging over the end of the bench, boots on the floor. His arms were stretched up to the corners of the bench, wrists roped to the bench.

Jamie gave the single bulb above him a push and it swung moodily back and forth above the bound man, alternately lighting his face, chest and abs gleaming with sweat. "Perfect," Jamie breathed. "I swear to you, dude, you have never looked more sexy than you do right now."

Larry tugged at his bound wrists. "Not sure about the ropes, dude. Feel kinda scared."

"Oh you should be scared, man. See I got a score to settle with you – several. Like that time you tied me down right here on this bench and skewered my ass with your big dick. I swore I'd get you back for that. Then yesterday, you slammed my head against the wall and left me tied up in that cellar. You insulted me, my man Mark, and that good man who loves you. You sexy mother-fucker, you're a piece of work, you know that? And you're gonna get what you deserve."

Again Larry struggled. "No, dude, you're scaring me. I'm not into this. I told you sex is different for me now. Maybe if I could do a couple of lines ..."

"Not his time, dude. No drugs this time. Just my big hungry dick in your ass." Jamie ripped open Larry's jeans and pulled them down from his waist, over his ass and let them drop round his boots. As Larry had said, his dick was limp but Jamie was taking a chance that a combination of fear and a rough fuck would change that. He pushed Larry's legs up and pulled them back over his shoulders, jeans and boots behind Jamie's neck.

Larry looked up at the chiseled features, the blue eyes, the dirt-streaked blond hair falling over his forehead, and at the muscular body leaning over him. He sensed a slight stirring in his own cock. "You gonna fuck my ass, dude?"

"Damn right I am. You don't fuck with me and get away with it, man." Larry watched as Jamie unbuttoned his jeans, pulled out his iron-hard cock and spat on it. He tensed as he felt the head of his dick press against his ass ... then ... aaagh!" The bound mechanic screamed as the shaft drove hard into his ass, pulled back and plunged in again, then again, deeper each time.

"No, it hurts too bad. Stop, man. Pull out ... pull out."

"Not a chance. This is what you need, mother-fucker. Take a deep breath and look at my eyes."

Jamie may have looked out of control but he knew exactly what he was doing. Larry needed to be shocked out of his dependency on drugs for sex. He needed another craving to take its place, the kind all the men and boys of the tribe had, the hunger for a hot macho stud to fuck and get fucked by. Jamie knew that the sex Larry had had with Mike was the loving, tender kind of a mature man in love. But sometimes, surely, he needed this.

It was what the tribe called a Randy fuck, a caveman fuck as Jamie leaned down, pressed his hands on the mechanic's oily chest and gazed into his eyes while his rod pistoned in his ass. The single bare bulb swung above them, alternating sinister light and shadow on the pornographic scene of one young mechanic butt-fucking another.

Larry was groaning now, the pain decreasing as he gazed at Jamie and drifted into a sexual euphoria. But this time the euphoria was not drug induced. He was not watching a screen and stroking a limp dick. He was staring up at a handsome young jock, his buddy, feeling his rod pile-driving his ass ... and his own dick stirring back to life.

Jamie's eyes were staring down at him like lasers as he reamed his ass. They had an intensity that mesmerized Larry, pulling him back from that malevolent world he had drifted into and lost his mind and his soul. Larry moaned, "I love you Jamie. Fuck me, do it hard ... I need it, man. Yeah, that's it ... you're making me hard, bro. Untie me, let me touch my cock."

"No, Larry. No more jerking off. If you really love me you'll cum for me like this. What's it gonna take? Pain? You really wanna feel it?" Jamie's eyes flashed and he fucked harder than he had even fucked Mark, pounding his ass like a jackhammer. He looked down at Larry's cock that was now rock hard and shouted, "Let me see it shoot, buddy. Do it, man. Do it for me, do it for Mike. We all love you, dude. Come back to us. Do it!"

Larry's eyes opened wide, his body convulsed and he pulled frantically at his bound wrists. "Aaagh," he screamed. "I love you Jamie ... aaagh!" He felt Jamie's juice pouring in his ass and his own cock exploded with jets of semen that splashed down on him and mixed with the oil and sweat on his heaving chest.

Jamie stared down at his exhausted buddy and panted, "Welcome back, dude."

When Jamie had released Larry he pulled up his jeans and they stood facing each other. Larry's eyes gleamed. "Jamie, that was incredible – I didn't think it was possible. Dude, I need more, a lot more."

"What? What do you mean, buddy?"

"It's hard to explain, Jamie, but ... see, doing the drugs I did was a whole new feeling, different from anything else, a kind of ecstasy. I know that it's terrible for a person but I needed that high and thought I could never match it with anything else. But I just did, Jamie. We just did. It was, I dunno ... the sex, the bondage, the pain, your dick in my ass, the love in your eyes, all of that. And you took it to the extreme. It's better than drugs, even more intense.

"Only difference is that the drug high can be got from a couple of lines of powder. What we just did takes a lot more – and I want more, Jamie. I want to feel, really feel. I want to shrug off all that other crap. It's meaningless but what we did means something. I loved it, I need it. I want to prove to you and myself I can kick the other shit. I want to make amends to you, I want to be punished for what I did – punished and loved all at the same time, like just now.

"I know what we did you can't do every day of the week and I wouldn't want it. But I want to be able to love again, Jamie. I want to love Mike the way he deserves to be loved. Because I know now that love is the best drug in the world."

"You know, Larry," Jamie smiled, "Brandon once told me that when the going gets rough for him he always looks for the love in people. And if you ever feel lost, just let love guide you."

"That's it, Jamie, Brandon's right. But right now, just this once to get me over the hump, I need to feel it physically, I need it rough, need it to hurt. Can you do that for me, Jamie? Right here and now. You're the only guy in the world I could ask for that. Can you, dude?"

Jamie smiled at Larry's gleaming face. "Sure I can, dude. And this is just the place, just as we are – two sweaty, greasy mechanics one pulling the other back from the edge of the cliff and teaching him a lesson he won't forget. We're gonna be here longer than we expected, though, and we don't want the guys to worry. You should call Mike."

Larry pulled out his phone. "Hello ... hello, sir ... this is Larry ... your boy Larry. Sir, I think everything's gonna be OK. It'll take a while so we'll be here longer than we thought. But I'll be back, sir, so wait for me ... don't give up on me, sir. I love you."

Larry switched off the phone. "He said he'd never give up on me, dude, `cos he loves me. I gotta do this for Mike, Jamie. Help me, buddy."

Jamie's voice got harsh. "OK, over here, boy, under those chains hanging from that beam."

The macho dark-haired young mechanic stood there shirtless, grimy with sweat and grease, beltless black jeans hugging his slim waist. Slowly he raised his arms to the chains.

Jamie stared at him and thought to himself, `I guess there's a whole lot of ways a guy can look for love. And this is one of them ...'

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 416

Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, I invite you to visit my own Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, with extras including pictures and biographies of all the characters.

AND DON'T FORGET – IF YOU ENJOY THESE STORIES, PLEASE DONATE to the Nifty site. Nifty needs your donations to provide these thousands of wonderful stories. So please, back-arrow to the NIFTY home page and click on "DONATE" at the top. Please give what you can - the other authors and I thank you. ... Rob