The Mercedes limo followed by the Suburban, drove through the private hanger out to the waiting jet on the airside. The boys, roughly divided between the vehicles, boiled out of the passenger doors and headed for the boarding steps. They ogled the sleek Challenger, nearly seventy feet of speed and luxury.
"I borrowed THIS?" Doug asked Buck with a giggle. He stopped at the foot of the steps and blocked the others. "You guys wipe your fucking feet before you board, I have to return it clean, or I'm off to Bucky's meat grinder," he joked.
"Hold on there lads!" Patrick roared at them from the rear of the Suburban. "There be a matter of gettin' the luggage aboard. Any as can't help, can stay home, an' that includes you Master Buckminster!" Patrick fended off two workers dressed in jumpsuits who were obviously responsible for loading the luggage. "Just show 'em where you want it," he told the workers, "that lot is needin' to burn off a bit o' energy before the flight."
Buck frowned up at Patrick as Patrick loaded him with two bags and one of Marc's camera equipment cases. "Please Patrick, quit calling me Buckminster, I hate that name. Can't you just call me Buck? You call my father Bucky." He pointed out hopefully.
"Aye, I do, because he ordered me to an' near scared the shit out o' me in the process. You Buckminster, don't scare me an' there be a need for a bit o' formality in the household now and then. I'll be callin' you as ye please when ye' be settin' at the head o' the table. Now be off with ye'." Patrick dismissed Buck and started loading up Marc.
After takeoff, the pretty young stewardess offered them refreshments. She was particularly friendly with Joe, Will, Paul and Morgan because they were older. Patrick decreed that morning that everyone was to be on his best behavior, there was to be no fooling around in public and an absolute minimum of foul language when anyone else outside the group was around them. He further insisted that all of them would dress as young gentlemen for the trip AND stay dressed during the flight, so everyone reluctantly wore long pants, collared shirts, neckties properly tied with collar buttons buttoned and even jackets.
Peter unbuckled his seat belt and stretched his body out in a soft leather recliner. He paused to really look at the buckle ends, then at Buck who was busy trying to get one of the twins to hold his hand and surreptitiously get him hard without Patrick taking notice. Peter was still suffering from recurring bouts of culture shock. First there was the Trenton duplex penthouse, then the helicopter, then Trenton Hall, Buck's house. He was just getting used to keeping his mouth shut when his new schoolmates took him to workout in the Wilcott field house. Now he was sitting in a private jet, not the biggest in the Trenton air fleet, just mid size, but long range, capable of leaving Newark International and landing at Oakland non stop.
"Hey Buck are these buckles brass or gold?" Peter asked, already sure of Buck's answer.
Buck frowned at Peter, unhappy that he'd gotten Patrick's attention with the question. Toby pulled his hand away and stuffed it in his pants pocket in an effort to tip over his clearly pointing tent pole. Buck covered his with his jacket. "They're both jerkwad, the gold is plated on brass. If you're looking for souvenirs, snatch the bathroom hardware I think that's all solid ten-carat, but I could be wrong," he answered sourly.
Peter persisted in his amazement. "Damn this jet must have cost as much as your house."
Patrick arched an eyebrow in Buck's direction, made fists of his hands, then twisted them at Buck and mouthed the word, 'apologize', then dropped his gaze to Buck's crotch meaningfully while the stewardess' back was turned.
Buck grinned at Patrick, winced and smiled at Peter. "I'm sorry Pete, but you've got to get over looking at everything as if you were with Internal Revenue. Just chill and enjoy yourself. For the record, this thing cost around twenty. The house wasn't that much yet but the field house could put it up there fast."
Doug watched the interaction between Buck and Patrick and covered his mouth to giggle when Buck pulled his jacket tighter, thereby further revealing his boner. Buck scratched the side of his nose with his middle finger while grinning at Doug and decided to change the subject. "You've sure been in a good mood lately. Any particular reason?" Buck already knew the reason, but knew that Doug enjoyed telling and retelling the story.
As soon as Bucky left Buck's apartment after they all looked at Marc's video and photos, he drove to Wilcott's. Marc made a copy of the video and Bucky and John Wilcott went to see Doug's father Bill. They showed him the tape. Like Doug, Bill immediately started pointing out small movements in Doug's stroke and kick that could be improved on or corrected to make Doug more fluid and likely faster in competition.
Bucky and John related Doug's comments and ongoing disappointment that his father never seemed to have the time to coach him properly and really missed the small amount of input he offered when he did find time to be at pool side when his son practiced. They told Bill very simply that becoming Doug's coach on a regular basis would be a first step in reconciling their differences and perhaps Bill's only opportunity.
Martha Henderson agreed and after administering a hard elbow in husband's side, suggested; "If you aren't comfortable in the guestroom now, all you have to do is refuse to do this for our son, you'll find yourself sleeping on the sofa in your office. When I packed Doug's things to send to Trenton's, I found some pornography, just magazines. I sent them along as well. This didn't just happen to him overnight. He's wrestled with this secret for I don't know how long. Our son is gay, get over it and start coaching him starting tomorrow morning, or I promise to have YOUR things packed by noon."
Bill didn't answer. He got up, rubbed his bruised ribs and began unplugging cables from the TV and VCR. Without looking at anyone, he asked quietly, "Could you guys give me a hand lugging this stuff to my truck? I guess we'll need it at the pool." After they finished, he looked at John, "Will your son be available to take more of these videos for us? These tapes will be invaluable training tools."
John laughed and nodded, "Just try to stop him from using a camera."
When Doug walked into the pool area the next morning, the first thing he saw was the TV sitting on a folding table by the locker room door playing Marc's video. Though his attention was instantly riveted to his father, standing nervously by the TV, waiting to see Doug's reaction to his unexpected presence.
Doug froze in his tracks, just inside the door. The other guys clustered around him. Talking and laughing ceased. Patrick walked behind everyone like a mother hen, or good shepherd, and when he looked up, saw the TV, the stranger who strongly resembled Doug, and Doug's reaction, he started turning the others with a hand on their shoulders. "I be callin' a meetin' lads, outside, for five minutes or so." After everyone but Doug was back outside, he bowed to Bill, winked, smiled and kicked the doorstop so the door swung closed.
Bill nodded to his son looking hopeful. Doug nodded back. "Hi," he hesitated, then added, "Dad." He smiled tentatively, "What are you doing here?"
"I ah, well Bucky and John dropped this tape off last night and asked me to take a look at it. These underwater shots are fantastic. They thought I might be able to offer some suggestions if I noticed anything you could maybe improve on. I, well, studied it after they left and well I noticed some little things that might give you a couple of hundredths edge, so I thought I'd stop in and just tell you this morning." Bill's hopeful look returned.
Doug saw immediately that his father was dressed in his favorite old bathing suit and ancient University tank top that was full of holes caused by spilled battery acid. His feet were bare, but his most comfortable jap flaps were discarded under the table. His father was obviously not planning to go to his office after he left the Oaks pool. "Didn't you mean show me?" Doug's smile broadened.
Bill looked flustered. "Pardon?"
Doug pointed, "You brought a TV and VCR along to show me, not tell me what I could be doing better." He glanced at the big wall clock. "Aren't you going to work today? It's only ten o'clock in the morning."
"I well, thought I'd just take the day off, some time off actually, and since I'm free, maybe spend some more time with you, you know, coaching you."
Doug frowned. He answered quietly, carefully making eye contact, "What about my being gay? That hasn't changed and it isn't going to. These guys," He tossed his thumb over his shoulder before he looked back and noticed that he and his father were alone. "The guys with me are all gay. Maybe we're magnets for each other I don't know. If you coach me, and I'd like that, I, that is we, swim naked mostly and you might see, no check that, I guarantee you'll see some fooling around. Can you deal with it, like ignore the goofing off with each other?" Bill started to answer, but Doug waved him to silence. "What I'm saying is in here, and in private anywhere, we need to be ourselves, no pretense, no secrets, none, not any more. Are you cool with that?"
Bill frowned and shrugged helplessly. "I honestly don't know," he said quietly, "but I'll damn sure try to be. I'm really sorry I was such an asshole the other night. You dropped that on me out of the blue. I was shocked and disappointed, I never dreamed that you were." He stopped, unable to say the word.
Doug glared at his father. "SAY IT!" He shouted.
"Gay." Bill answered softly, looking at his feet. He looked up, "GAY!" he repeated so it echoed around the room.
"OKAY!" Doug shouted back and started laughing. He walked up to his father and offered his hand. The handshake degenerated into a bear hugging contest in which neither contestant, father nor son wanted to win, or give up. "Are you really going to coach me, ER I mean us? There's the twins now, you haven't met them yet and of course Buck. He's going to try diving, but I think he's good enough for swimming varsity here and he's a fast learner." Words poured from Doug uncontrollably while he stripped to his little Speedo. He walked to the door and pushed it open. "Hey guys, what the fuck are you doing out here? The water's inside and we're wasting time." He stood by the door and introduced each guy to his father and coach, Bill Henderson.
Buck and Patrick were last. Bill grinned at Patrick and cranked his arm. "Doug's spoken of you often at home. It's a pleasure to meet you at last." While Bill chatted with Patrick, Buck slipped by them, stripped to his suit, then folded himself into a ball on the most distant starting block out of the way. The noise level rose as the other guys worked with Marc to get him ready to slip into and under the water with his cameras. Doug's eyes stayed on Buck, who managed to look like a beaten puppy. Doug started to walk toward him, but his father stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and went to talk with Buck by himself.
Bill sat down on the tiled floor so Buck looked down on him. "Buck? I apologize for all the things I said to you the other night. I was hurt. I needed to blame anyone but Doug for his being gay, or thinking he was. You were there, so I picked on you and I'm truly sorry for that. Can you forgive me, not right now, but in time? I love my son and I was trying to find reasons to excuse him for his actions. Hurting you lessened my hurt."
Buck looked down on Bill for the first time, then up at Doug, who was nervously bustling around, carefully not looking in their direction, hoping that Buck would accept his father's apology. "He's beautiful to watch isn't he? He's smart and funny and sometimes he bosses me around like he was my father," Buck looked down on Bill again, meeting his eyes. "Or my husband," he concluded softly. "We love each other. I know we're just kids, teenagers, but we do, really." Buck took a deep breath and smiled at Bill. "Say, if you and your wife aren't busy tonight, would you like to come over to our house for dinner? Douggie really misses his mom as much as he did you."
Bill did not miss the emphasis Buck placed on the word 'our', and realized for the first time that he'd lost his only son to Buck, another teen. Doug would never move back home, he couldn't, there was no going back to the way things were before. He hoped that Buck and Doug would be happy with each other for as long as the relationship lasted. He also suddenly regretted that he hadn't spent more time with Doug, and began to look forward to other invitations to dinners, parties and perhaps even vacations together.
Buck smiled openly, got down off his perch and offered his hand to Bill to help him stand. It seemed to Bill that Buck read his mind. "Don't worry, he'll be happy. I'd kill to keep him happy no matter what."
Bill nodded, "I'm sure you would Buck. What time for dinner tonight?" He asked and put a tentative hand on Buck's shoulder. Buck reached up and patted Bill's hand reassuringly, as if he was the adult and Bill the teenager.
Practice got underway. Bill was accepted as the boys' coach after they reviewed Marc's tape frame by frame. He began making suggestions to the twins separately, until he noticed that their movements in the water were as identical as their physical appearance. Doug laughingly explained their telepathic abilities between each other, but as he and Buck promised them, he kept their unique bedroom powers a secret.
Patrick gave up protesting that he was too old for any of the boys after he found himself sucked, literally and figuratively into their first foursome. After that amazing experience, he allowed them to just bring him along with them to climax first. Then he began to make sure he was touching one of the twins during their other bouts at the end, the moment of truth, after that, regardless of the number or frequency of those exquisitely exciting thruths'. As a result, he felt younger and even thought he looked younger and his energy level seemed to be boundless. Of course he also never slept better when the lads allowed him to sleep between bouts, or through one or more if they took pity on him. He hovered near Bill and hung on every bit of advise or helpful hint, so by the end of the first practice, he could at least talk swimming as if he actually knew how.
Marc gave Peter a crash course in photography early that morning so Peter could photograph Doug when he was out of the water, and wearing a suit since he would be busy in and under the water doing the same thing. Marc's instructions were simple; burn film, go for quantity and screw quality. Peter discovered he liked photography and quickly became as obnoxious as Marc could be in his never ending quest for the one perfect photo.
Marc quickly filled the card in his digital camera snapping Doug doing different strokes and from assorted angles. As soon as Doug saw him surface with that outfit, and place it carefully on the deck, he called a halt long enough to pull his suit off and toss it to Patrick. Buck and the twins followed his example, while Marc didn't even think about bringing a suit to take off. Patrick waved his collection of Speedo suits like trophies at Bill, who did a bit of blinking. Bill tried, but couldn't remember the last time he saw his son naked, but he discovered he had to agree with Buck that he was beautiful to watch and took great pride in the fact that his son was extremely well endowed.
Doug climbed to a starting block and stretched with his hands over his head. His torso curved backward at an impossible angle and his pelvis thrust forward. Marc was just guiding his video camera under and had his mouthpiece in place when he saw the potential shot. He waved his free hand frantically and started to sputter and choke attempting to get Peter's attention, until he saw Peter standing behind Patrick at the corner of the pool, look up, raise his camera and nudge Patrick out of his line of fire. There was an unexpected splash when Patrick hit the water already pin wheeling his arms, swimming futilely through the air. Peter ignored him and managed six frames of Doug.
One of Patrick's hands caught the lip of the pool as he sank and he was able to reverse course and pull himself back up, then vault to the deck exactly as he'd seen the boys do repeatedly. Peter's view of Doug was blocked suddenly by a close up of one very red faced dripping irate Irishman. Peter started to giggle and back away simultaneously out of Patrick's reach. When Patrick continued to advance on him, he turned and started running for the exit door with Patrick in hot pursuit screaming in a mixture of Gaelic and English so only words like 'kill', 'strangle' and 'bloody' were clear to everyone above their laughter.
Peter decided that the door's panic bar was aptly named as he ran outside laughing and shouting for mercy over his shoulder. Patrick screeched to a halt at the doorway and started laughing himself when Peter crashed into Will and Joe on the sidewalk because he wasn't watching where he was going. The partners carried Peter between them back to Patrick, holding him by his upper arms so his feet dangled. That was about the time a small group of students gathered to watch whatever was happening and Peter realized that he was outside the building, helpless and naked except for Marc's camera, and that wouldn't offer much cover even if he could get free of Will and Joe.
Peter apologized to Patrick for a solid minute without repeating himself before Patrick was satisfied, ordered him freed and allowed back inside as long as he didn't touch a camera for the rest of the practice. Failure to comply with the sentence, Patrick warned, would result in a one way trip to the meat grinder.
Bill and the boys were grouped around Patrick watching the fun. Bill asked Doug about the meat grinder. Doug giggled, shrugged and explained laughing that Bucky was really the boss of bosses in the business and under worlds. He told his father they joked that Bucky had a big one in the basement and used it from time to time if he really got upset with someone as a sort of ultimate solution, kind of like the infamous boogie man; often threatened but never seen or used. Everyone laughed at Doug's explanation, even Will and Joe, but theirs was slightly forced and they were careful to avoid looking at each other until practice resumed.
Bill ended the session at twelve forty-five when his stomach started to growl. He invited everyone to lunch at a local eatery that thrived on business from the school as well as huge burgers and giant servings of everything else. Doug was pleased to see that his father barely glanced at the total before paying the bill.
"So anyway," Doug concluded his ongoing story of how he and his father were developing a new and even closer relationship, "now we're really friends. I still can't quite believe it, but I sure am enjoying it. You should have seen his disappointment when I told him we were going to California for the weekend, so there wouldn't be any practice." He patted his rear pants pocket and giggled. "He gave me a credit card to pay the airfare and when I pointed to Buck and explained about this plane, he told me to keep it anyway and not be afraid to use it for walking around money since it was mine."
Doug told them that when his father first incorporated, the stock wasn't worth zilch. His father created a joint trust with he and his mother as beneficiaries, so now that Henderson Constructors was international, and ballistically successful, Doug didn't need to feel like a poor relative while staying with Buck and his parents because he could pay his own way.
When Doug showed Bucky the golden plastic, he smiled. "Just be sure you never embarrass me by trying to use it," Bucky warned him quietly with the look in his eyes that announced that he was very serious.
While Doug talked, Will sat quietly in front of a laptop working on something the boys couldn't see. Joe leaned in close to watch the screen. Since their promotions, they'd become more distant, still friendly but busier with cell phones and Will's laptop as the transition from bodyguards to chief executives become more intense. Will sifted through the personnel files of the agency they once worked for. George supplied valid clearances and access codes, as well as their source, so the agency's entire database would always be available to them at any time. They were browsing the files to find their own replacements as bodyguards for Buck and Doug.
Joe touched his neck, then started talking to himself as he grinned at the twins. "YES! Okay, that's great, email it, we're online now. Thanks." He turned his head to look at a bank of electronics equipment built into the wood paneled bulkhead.
The boys looked at Joe like he was nuts until Paul giggled. "He's wearing an ear bud, talking on his damn phone," he explained when he saw the wire.
Sheets of paper started falling into a tray attached to the printer. Joe read the printouts while Will read the same information on the screen. Joe giggled and clapped Will on the back, then got up and walked to the twins sitting together with Buck on a sofa and handed them the papers. "This information should end all your problems with your father, and your stepmother, who isn't." He told them cryptically, between giggles.
Terry and Buck leaned into Toby to read the single spaced information. When they finished, the twins looked puzzled. "What's this mean? It says here that our father is married to someone named Susan. Our mother's name was Teresa and they were married at the ranch near San Diego not in Los Angeles. They weren't eighteen, they were in their twenties. Sorry none of this makes sense." Toby declared wearing a confused frown which Terry mirrored.
Buck snatched the email and waved it around. "Sure it does. Susan is your father's wife, if I read this right. Not his first wife, his wife, still. They never got divorced."
Joe saw the twins' frown deepen. "Look guys, your father, Kevin and this girl Susan were both eighteen when they met each other and got married because Susan got pregnant. She miscarried, and your dad split for parts unknown. They both wanted to be movie stars. Susan now sells real estate in L.A. and still uses her married name, Susan Fair because she never bothered to get a divorce. She's legally your father's wife. His marriage to your mother wasn't legal and still isn't."
Terry jumped up, his face turned ominous. "So we're bastards? Is that what you're saying? Man when Gramps finds out, if he doesn't kill him. Shit, we'll do it ourselves! The sonofabitch!"
"Bastard is kind of archaic, sons of a single parent sounds better." Joe offered to calm the twins down. "Your mother didn't know she wasn't married to him, so she's blameless."
"On the brighter side," Will interjected, "I'm not a lawyer, but I doubt if he has any claim on your mother's estate so everything she left him should fall to you as next of kin. Your grandfather will probably get custody of you guys as well, since being a father from a jail cell is difficult."
Terry grinned suddenly. "Yeah Toby. Think about it, if the prick wasn't married to Mother, then he sure as shit isn't married to the bitch either. Man I sure want to be there when she finds out."
Toby giggled and nodded his head, "Even better, we should be the ones to lay the news on them both." Toby sank to his knees laughing. "I know, let's get her an employment application from Wal-Mart and tell her to dust off her little blue vest."
Buck smiled at the twins. He was happy for then, but also disappointed. "I guess this means you guys won't be rooming with us. That's too bad."
Patrick nodded. He wasn't smiling. "Aye it is, but you'll be visitin' with us from time to time won't ye now?"
Doug looked up and frowned at the twins, then at Buck. "Hey that's right." He moaned, "Damn Buck, you get me in trouble without trying. Now what are we going to do with the extra room? I told the contractor to cut the doorway into the bathroom. The shit is going to hit the fan big time when the school finds out."
Doug was with Buck when he met the general contractor to have their room and bathroom remodeled, and when Buck saw how interested Doug was in the project, he told the builder to do whatever Doug wanted. They had already invited the twins to room with them and they accepted gladly. At first Doug and Buck shrugged off the possibility of over crowding, before Doug got inspired.
"Since the twins are entitled to the room their grandfather paid for, let's make the one on the other side of the bathroom into our study. That will get rid of all our desks and school shit and we'll have plenty of room for six in the bedroom. All we need to do is chop through the wall into the bathroom and presto, we have a suite." He explained to Buck and the contractor, who hovered around them, anxious to please Bucky by doing whatever his son wanted as he was instructed.
"Wait a minute," the twins said together. Toby continued, "We like this school since we met you guys. It's going to take some time to get this mess straightened out, and we have to go to school somewhere, so it may as well be Oaks. Hopefully we'll get off restriction, and Gramps can visit us too." He blushed with Terry, and glanced at Peter and Marc. "Besides we want to be your roommates."
Marc balked. "Roommates? You can't be. I mean it wouldn't work. You know about us that's fine, live and let live," he pontificated, "but there's no way we need an audience." He frowned and looked at Buck, then Doug, who along with the twins grinned back at him. "Wait just a fu. ER, damn minute," he amended after a glance at Patrick. "Is there something going on here that Pete and I, and the rest of us don't know about?"
Buck giggled, negating his headshake. "It was going to be a surprise, the roommate part, and I guess the other part too."
"Yeah," Doug agreed, "there won't be any audiences."
Patrick cleared his throat noisily, as the stewardess appeared to refill drinks.
Will covered the sudden silence with an announcement. "Well we've got four likely candidates for our jobs. Joe and I will interview them after we get back. One is away on assignment, so you'll have substitutes for a couple of days next week. No tricks with them either okay? It's important." He looked at Buck.
"What are you looking at me for?" Buck asked and looked offended. He elbowed Doug. "You heard that didn't you, you trouble maker. Behave next week while you have an innocent bodyguard around. I'll be in New York, so no horsing around at practice." He giggled, waiting for Doug to retaliate.
"ME?" Doug asked while he sent his elbow into Buck's ribs, then followed that up by getting Buck in a headlock and pulling him down to the carpet. They started to wrestle.
Patrick rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. There was too much teenage energy packed in the jet to expect that they all could remain on good behavior for the entire flight. The wrestling match became a tag team bout when Marc and Peter, then the twins joined the melee. Paul and Morgan stayed seated, but used their feet to keep anyone from getting and keeping an advantage for long. The stewardess appeared and looked suitably helpless. She looked at Patrick and pointed to one of the flashing fasten seat belt indicators around the cabin before she fled to the galley.
Patrick remained seated and watched the boys wrestle each other. He was wearing a well-tailored Italian designer suit and glittering wing tip shoes, and was not about to get involved. He was able to referee by watching faces. Whenever one of the boys even thought about applying a cock lock or nut crusher hold, the would be guilty contestant sneaked a peek in his direction to see if he was watching. Eye to eye contact with Patrick was sufficient deterrent.
"Enough gentlemen." Patrick said quietly. "We be landin' soon." The boys separated, stood up and began to straighten their clothing before they found their seats again. Patrick shook his head sadly. "Just look at yourselves. Ye look like road menders or rag pickers not the scions o' wealth. Off to the restrooms with ye an' freshen up." The boys turned obidiently to obey as a group. He saw the suggestive furtive looks they traded with each other. "Hold on there lads. I'm hopin' ye don't take me self for no dumb Englishman. I overheard whispers about somethin' ye called a mile high club. There'll be no new members joinin' on this fine craft this day. Ye go by twos an' plan on separatin' at the doors to the facilities."
"Come on Patrick," Buck begged with a grin, "there's still plenty of time."
"As may be, but not on this flight. Now off with ye."
Buck and Doug were closest, so they went first. When they returned, sat together on a sofa and buckled up, Patrick eyed them critically across the cabin. He frowned at Doug. "WHAT?" Doug asked and ran his fingers through his red-gold curls a second time. "You know it won't stay combed. I can't help it."
Patrick smiled and shook his head. "That's not it lad. I was just thinkin' ye need to stand a wee bit closer to your razor of a mornin', I believe I see a four o'clock shadow on your chin, and it's not but noontime."
Doug raised his fingers to his face. His smile was ear to ear. "REALLY?" He asked, astounded and pleased that his beard was visible just as Patrick knew he would be. Any mention of visible facial hair was to Doug, a fifteen-year-old redhead, the ultimate in compliments.
Buck winked at Patrick and reached up to feel Doug's chin. "Yup, and scratchy too." He giggled then lowered his voice. "You just better shave everyday from now on Mister, or no nooky for you."
Doug laughed and answered in a loud whisper. "I was going to, then, as usual, I got busy with other things. You just start leaving me alone when I'm in front of the damn mirror and I will."
"Stop laying that," Buck pointed to Doug's lap, "on the damn counter so its looking at me in the mirror and I will."
Unlike Buck's, Doug's cock didn't hang or droop. It just wilted after use to about four inches and stood out from his body about fifteen degrees below horizontal. After he grew tall enough, he got into the habit of laying his cock on the counter so he could lean forward to the basin and mirror with his thighs pressing the edge.
If he pushed it down it tended to get in the way of the drawer pulls and/or the painfully sharp underside counter edge. After he and Buck started grooming together the habit continued. Buck found Squinty's vertical stares distracting, especially if it was crying a residual tear or two, which he thought reflected badly on his lovemaking techniques. Since the rule; 'no waste', always applied, so too did; 'don't miss any'. Buck always felt duty bound to interrupt his own personal hygiene chores and re-clean 'their' cock, inside and out. This kindness always claimed all of Doug's attention since he was reluctant to risk cutting his own throat by attempting to shave while getting a bonus morning head job.
Buck and Doug's discussion ended when the Challenger's wheels touched the runway with a slight thump and bump. Buck nodded to Patrick and grinned. Doug looked to see Patrick's fingers clutching the arms of his seat so hard his knuckles were white. "He told me flying was not his favorite means of transportation." Doug whispered.
Buck twisted his head to look out the window and shook Doug's arm to get his attention. "Hey look at those fire trucks racing us. Boy the firemen must sure get bored. They should have waited for something a little smaller and slower." He saw Patrick straining within the confines of his seat belt to look out the window with his worried face as white as his knuckles. Buck giggled, "Sorry Patrick, I was just kidding about the fire trucks, we're doing fine, you can relax."
Patrick scowled, "I be lookin' at someone smaller and slower than me self when this thing stops an' I lay hands on yourself, Master Buckminster." He warned, before he relaxed and smiled. "I greatly enjoy the middle part, it be the gettin' up there, then back to the Mother Earth that be a wee bit stressful." The stewardess opened the hatch. The whine of the motor lowering the steps was reassuring.
The twins were the first to stand up and start dancing in eager anticipation of seeing their grandfather. The Challenger was parked in front of a private aircraft service and fueling company hanger, snuggled between other recent arrivals, both jet and prop planes, though theirs was the king of the private aircraft parked there at that moment. It was clear to everyone that the twins' private communication system had ceased to operate as they scrambled, pushing and shoving each other to get to the open hatch at the front of the plane. They stopped at the foot of the steps and looked around. The others joined them. They started walking as a unit toward the double glass doors at one side of the hanger where they could see people milling around, watching them.
Patrick stopped them with a few quiet words. "There be luggage gentlemen." The boys, except for Toby and Terry retraced their steps the get their bags. Joe and Will joined the twins, unobtrusively placing themselves between their charges and the building.
"Maybe he's late." Marc suggested quietly to the others so the twins couldn't hear him. "Did you get us a car?" He asked Buck.
"Nope, Toby said his grandfather would take care of it. Should I get the pilot to call a limo service?" Buck asked Patrick. "Will and Joe are not liking us standing out here. Look at them, they're more agitated than the twins."
Will stood in front of the twins looking toward the hanger lobby while Joe looked everywhere else around the sprawling airport. Everyone heard the low growl of a diesel engine coming from the side of the building and looked that way. The twins' questioning frowns gave way to smiles and they started running toward the shining dark blue four door Hummer rag top SUV grumbling around the corner of the building. The top was down and a tall man was standing up in the passenger side waving both arms at them. A limousine followed the massive Humvee closely. Will and Joe relaxed together with full faced smiles of relief. The boys and Patrick watched the excited family reunion with smiles as they eyed the heavy truck enviously.
Doug nudged Buck. "Do we own one of those?" He asked with a grin, after seeing Buck's expression.
Buck giggled and pushed Doug. "Fuck no, not yet. Maybe Tuesday if we can find a dealer somewhere. I wonder if they have them in stock. That's the coolest, meanest fucking machine, but ours should be red." He snapped his fingers. "You know we could bulldoze a trail around the property and."
Marc interrupted, "Yeah, and one to our house, so we have a back road! Man, I got me a hard on just looking at that, what a truck. Can I drive it?"
"So what else is new?" Peter asked while he tried to pull Marc's jacket open.
Doug shook his head, "No way man, not when you have a hardon, you'd be too distracted."
Marc tried looking disappointed between giggles and flashed his jacket open in their direction after playfully fighting Peter off. "I assume that means never then, huh?"
The twins started running. "GRAMPS! GRAMPS!" They screamed together. Luggage was forgotten as everyone watched the reunion.
Thomas De La Varga stepped on the top of the door and jumped to the concrete from the slowly moving Hummer. His grandsons jumped up into his waiting arms and surrounded his neck with all four of theirs, trying to pull themselves higher. They kissed his cheeks repeatedly between snatches of independent babble about being free, how great it was to come home and how much they loved him. Thomas carried them the last fifty feet back to the smiling and laughing boys.
Patrick wiped away a tear with one hand and stepped forward to offer his hand. "That was beautiful to watch Sir, and well worth the trip to be seein' it."
"Patrick!" Thomas said as he bent his lean six foot four inch body until the twins' feet touched concrete. They released his neck and surrounded his waist, pasting themselves to his sides and legs. With his arms and hands free, he shook Patrick's proffered hand with both of his. "I'd know you anywhere, even before I heard your Irish accent. Thank you for caring for my grandsons."
Patrick grinned, "Accent? I've an accent? You're the first in thirty years to be tellin' me self of it. All this time I was thinkin' ever' one else was speakin' a bit strange. Imagine that." Patrick's giggle negated his statement.
The twins methodically introduced Thomas to each of the group. When they got to Buck, Thomas first shook his hand, then hugged him and thanked him and Bucky in absentia repeatedly for helping him be reunited with his grandsons.
They introduced Will and Joe last, and Toby frantically attempted to iron out the grumpled email pages he held in his hand, temporarily forgotten in the excitement. Thomas blinked at the word, bodyguards, but was diverted by having paper waved in front of his eyes. "What is it Toby?" He asked and took the sheets.
"These guys are really private detectives, AND they got all this while we were flying out here."
Toby and Terry linked their minds again. "AND WE'RE FREE! WE'RE FREE!" They chanted together.
While they shouted their joy, the Hummer's driver crouched down and sneaked slowly toward Thomas and the twins from behind them. When he was close enough he reached out and began tickling both twins. "GOTCHA!" He shouted, then pulled them together and hugged them.
They hugged him back equally fiercely. "Pepe! HI!" The twins each took one of his hands and towed him along, introducing him as their grandfather's ranch foreman and best friend, as well as theirs.
Thomas read, then re-read the report. His smiled changed to a knitted brow. He looked at Will and Joe. "Thank you for this," he said quietly. "I could have forgiven him marrying my daughter for money because he gave her and me these fine boys. I even would have ultimately settled this mess with him and given him whatever he wanted in return for custody. Now I find that he's cheapened her memory, and I will never forgive him for that. If I am ever again alone with him, I will personally cut off his balls and feed them to him in retribution. Afterward, I will see to it that he gets the best in medical care, because I want him to live to regret this insult to my daughter and her sons. Before God, I swear this." His eyes drifted to the sky and closed. His lips moved silently. Will and Joe looked at each other as they realized that he was repeating his oath.
Very early the next morning Thomas Del La Varga was alone in the gunroom, originally the armory of the sprawling ancient hacienda. His eyes traveled slowly over the priceless collection of antique black powder weapons displayed there. He brooded about Kevin Fair, his son-in-law who never was, a former annoying adversary whose status Thomas revised to that of a hated reviled enemy. His cell phone rang. He assumed it was a wrong number since no one had it except his grandsons and Pepe, plus it was three o'clock in the morning. He answered, prepared to disconnect. He sat up suddenly. The caller's voice was gravelly, much like Buck's, only deeper with maturity. After he replaced the phone in his pocket he stared at the door for a couple of minutes before there was a light knock, and it opened. He watched Joe drop his phone in his shirt pocket as he sat down. Will remained leaning against the closed door to be certain they wouldn't be interrupted.
"We relayed your oath and he thought we might be of some assistance in full filling it. Tell us when and where you want him, and Mr. Fair will be there." Joe said without preamble.
Thomas nodded. "Very soon. The twins want and deserve a face to face confrontation first. The woman and her mother will be reduced to penury. I want them evicted with the clothes on their backs."
"I would not like any of this to become public, but there are records."
"They can be lost in a day or two."
"As I was told, you gentlemen are efficient."
Joe nodded again in thanks. "It would be best if the boy's father once again officially fled for parts unknown as far as the boys and the women involved are concerned. He has no relatives. No one will miss him. His wife has no interest in his whereabouts. There is a small private hospital, a sanitarium really, where he can be kept afterward for as long as you wish. That is if you actually want him to live."
"I do. An oath is an oath after all. I and the generations before me are a rather unforgiving lot I'm afraid. Of course I'll underwrite all expenses. Perhaps an advance is in order? As much as you need in cash, as soon as the bank opens tomorrow."
Joe smiled. "That won't be necessary, besides, tomorrow, rather, today is Saturday."
"Not if you own the bank." Thomas answered with a chuckle. They stood up together. He shook hands with them both, "Thank you gentlemen. It would seem that my grandsons have acquired some surprisingly good friends, and through them, so have I." Thomas paused, "Tell me, does young Buck have any inkling of who his father is?"
Will shrugged, "He's very perceptive. He jokes about it with the boys, and they sort of accept it as a fact, or they're getting used to the idea." Will hesitated, "One more question Mr. De La Varga, if I may?" Thomas nodded. "Will you be able to do it, actually nut him?"
Thomas laughed. "I've been a rancher all my life. Over the years I've nutted hundreds, perhaps thousands of bull calves, and no small number of mature ones that I raised for breeding, then found wanting. Calves aren't actually cut, but adults are. It's messy, but I've yet to lose a patient. You just deliver him. I'll need an hour with him, and then you can take him away to your sanitarium a few ounces lighter. Some sedation may be necessary to transport it afterward." Thomas spat the word, it.
When Joe and Will were in the room they shared, Joe gulped and held his balls after they stripped. "Did you catch that 'IT'? Goddamn, and I thought I was a mean sonofabitch."