The Victorious and the Relentless
Episode 12: “Crash and Burn”
HOLLYWOOD HOSPITAL, BRENDON ROBERTS’ ROOM, FRIDAY MORNING
The sound of Corinne Bailey Rae’s “Like a Star” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e19eZJX8QHY) opens this episode. Though the spat with Nathan unsettled him, Brendon Roberts slept quietly in bed, having forgiven Nathan for his numerous lies of omission. It was true love they shared. Every relationship has its trials. I nearly died, my partner is potentially cheating on me, and my son—who believes he’s my nephew—has ran away. Life was much simpler prior to this summer. There was routine to our lives. Breakfasts on the patio with the sunlight filtering through the vines, lunch meetings with Nathan at the academy (when my schedule permitted it and if the film shoots were in close proximity to Hollycove Prep), and of course those special candlelit dinners at home with wine and classical string music playing in the background.
Nathan is so warm and gentle, his body a tower of muscular beauty. I have longed to feel that body ever since the last time when we were interrupted in the park. I had started to lick his chest, feeling the flesh of his nipples and the raging hardness in his shorts. I was ready for our bodies to unite.
But then the attack ruined everything! Precious time had been lost, and now the lines were firmly drawn. Brendon had enemies, one of which was Callum Sutcliffe. All the others he would handle in due course, but he didn’t know enough about this guy other than what Allison had told him. Why is he so interested in Nathan? That answer to that question would solve many problems. Little did he know that it would create more!
CALLUM’S HOME, HOLLYCOVE ESTATES
Callum had barely bitten into his buttered crumpet when the doorbell rang, and Godfrey soon came into the dining room to announce Drake Michener.
Callum: At this early hour? (pause) Send him in.
Drake: Good morning, Callum.
Callum: To what (or to whom) do I owe the honor of your visit?
Drake: I really needed to speak with you.
Callum: Drake, it’s the 21st century. Telephone or email would have sufficed. Of course I realize nothing beats a real face-to-face conversation with me. (pause) Where are my manners? Would you like some breakfast? There’s tea, juice, fruit—
Drake: Thanks, but I’m fine. I came to ask you about Justin Roberts.
Callum: Isn’t he the missing teenager?
Drake: You really should take acting lessons. You know damn well who I’m talking about.
Callum (taking a sip of tea): Yes, he’s Brendon’s nephew.
Drake: And he’s staying in this house.
Callum (resisting the urge to spit out his tea): What on earth are you talking about?
Drake: I saw him here the other day when—
Callum (cutting him off): You and Dr. Ashland were snooping around in my private sitting room.
Drake: I saw Justin outside by the pool.
Callum: And you’re absolutely certain it wasn’t the poolboy? Listen, Drake, I can assure you that I have no juvenile delinquents in my home. As you can see, it’s a mansion, not a halfway house!
Drake: His picture was on the news and in the newspapers. I know what he looks like.
Callum: Where were you when you thought you saw him? Were you outside? A few feet away? Or perhaps several yards away?
Drake: I-I was inside.
Callum: So you don’t really know what you saw?
Drake: I know I saw—
Callum: Someone, yes, but not Justin Roberts. I think I would know if someone wanted by the law were hiding out on my estate, taking advantage of my amenities.
Drake: I guess you’re right, but I’m not putting anything past you.
Callum: Drake, I know we got off on the wrong foot when we first met, and it appears you got off on the wrong cock this morning—but that doesn’t give you the right to start these outlandish allegations.
Drake: I know you’re up to something.
Callum: I’m up to having you thrown out my house if you persist in this conspiratorial behavior. Who put you up to this? Was it Allison? You’re too thick to be playing private dick.
Drake (insulted): I’m leaving.
Callum: I was beginning to think you never would.
Drake (storming for the exit): I don’t trust you, Callum.
DR. PEYTON ASHLAND’S OFFICE
Peyton sat in his office, growing more anxious with each passing second. Callum had managed to corner him once again. The gun had his fingerprints on it, and that bastard still had it in his possession. I should just come clean with the police and tell them everything. But Callum said the DVD was in Allison’s office. Maybe she doesn’t know about it, but we’re not exactly on speaking terms. But I have to try.
He rose, used the intercom to tell his secretary he was stepping out. She told him that his 10:00 appointment canceled at the last minute, and he would be seeing Chloe at 11:00. This was the perfect opportunity to snoop in Allison’s office and possibly find the DVD. He rushed to her office, finding it closed and locked. His hands kept jerking the handle, hoping it would jar the door open, and then he thought to quietly throw his weight against it. As he attempted that endeavor, Kyle approached him, startling him.
Kyle: I can get Allison if you need her.
Peyton (turning to leave): Oh no, it’s okay. I’ll talk with her later today. I-I just left something in her office last week.
Kyle: Peyton?
Peyton (turning around): Yeah?
Kyle: The other day I walked in on an argument between you and Allison. To me it seemed a bit heated. She was threatening you with something she knew about you.
Peyton (suddenly perspiring): W-What are you talking about? What would give you an idea like that?
Kyle: Because I heard every word of it. Neither of you think I did. I’m a cop, remember?
Peyton: Look, you know how Allison can get.
Kyle: I’m going to level with you, Peyton. Some new evidence has come to light, regarding the attacks on Allison and—
Peyton: Evidence? Like what?
Kyle: Well, it’s more like testimony. The horseback rider provided his statement, claiming it was a man that shot at Chloe and Allison. The description and profile sketch fits you to a tee, Peyton.
Peyton: That’s ridiculous!
Kyle: Yeah, I’m tempted to agree. Sometimes these sketches aren’t that accurate, and besides you were with Callum the night of the shooting, right?
Peyton: Yeah, right.
Kyle: So he’s your alibi. Besides, we still don’t have the weapon so it looks like you’re off the hook for now. (laughing before his cell phone rings) Excuse me.
In fumbling for the phone, Kyle dropped his briefcase, and a photo of Vittoria slipped out onto the floor. Peyton bent down and picked it up.
Peyton: Should Heath be worried that you’re crossing onto the other side?
Kyle: She’s a nasty piece of work. I wouldn’t get involved with her. She’s my main suspect in the attack on Allison and Chloe.
Peyton: Oh really?
Kyle: Chloe said that this woman was selling drugs to Justin Roberts before he went missing. (pause) Why the sudden interest in her? Are you thinking of converting?
Peyton: No, she just—
Kyle: Looks familiar? Yeah, that’s because she’s Tristan’s roommate. Anyway, I need to get ready for the Outrunners banquet this evening. Talk with you later.
Both Tristan and his roommate were at Callum’s home the night of the shooting, and he secretly met up with them. I had joked that he was blackmailing them, but what if this woman really did shoot at them? She had motive. Oh, Callum, you devil, you’re responsible for this one way or the other.
TRISTAN BERSANI AND VITTORIA MORELLI’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD
Vittoria and her attorney Estrella Tartaro are seated at the table in Vittoria’s apartment.
Vittoria: You were a godsend yesterday, coming to my rescue.
Estrella: You should thank Mr. Sutcliffe for calling me.
Vittoria: He is a man of his word. He’s even allowing me to stay here rent-free.
Estrella: Vittoria, he owns this building. (pause) So what’s the deal between you two? You his girl?
Vittoria: Oh no, he’s gay. We just have an arrangement.
Estrella: I’ve worked long enough in this town to know when someone’s being used so don’t try pulling the wool over my eyes.
Vittoria: What’s it to you? He’s paying you good money for your services.
At that moment, the door opened and Tristan came into the apartment, carrying a suitcase.
Vittoria and Estrella: Tristan!
Both women turn to each other.
Tristan: Estrella, what are you doing here?
Vittoria (turning to Estrella): How do you know him?
Estrella: Long story. I’ll tell you another time. (turning to Tristan) You must be her roommate. To answer your question, I’m representing Vittoria.
Vittoria: Callum hired her to clear my name of any connection with the attacks in Griffith Park.
Tristan: Oh really?
Estrella: It’s all circumstantial evidence, and well, Detective Walgrove had a conflict of interest, and I’ve been notified of his reassignment to a different case. I came by to tell Vittoria that she’s definitely out of the woods since the horseback rider gave testimony that it was a man who fired at Dr. Trudeau.
Tristan: Well, I guess that means you’re off the hook thanks to Callum.
Estrella (to Tristan): So you know Mr. Sutcliffe?
Tristan: Otherwise known as Lucifer. Yes, I’m well acquainted with him.
Vittoria’s cell rings and she excuses herself from the room.
Estrella (rising from the table) So how well do you know him? (crossing over to him and laying her hands on Tristan’s shoulders) I had forgotten how strong you were.
Tristan (brushing away from her): I keep busy at the gym.
Estrella: You always had legendary strength. You always knew how to hit the right spot with me. Why, I remember that time you made me cum eight times in a row.
Tristan: Shh! Keep quiet about that!
Estrella: What? You’re afraid she’ll overhear us. I’ve seen her rap sheet. She’s traded skin just like you. Have you done her as well?
Tristan: Hey! Stop that talk. Vittoria’s like my little sis. We’ve practically known each other since we were in diapers in Italia.
Estrella: Okay, well, I had wondered where you had gone. I haven’t been with you in a few months.
Tristan: Look, Estrella, I’m turning over a new leaf in my life. I’m no longer escorting.
Estrella (coming onto him once more): Have you missed me?
Tristan (hesitantly): Of course. You were one of my highest paying clients.
Estrella: Yes, I was. I took you on many international trips with me. Remember last Christmas in Prague?
Tristan: Estrella, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make reference to my past life.
Estrella: Okay… as you wish (she impetuously gives him a kiss, leaving a red lipstick mark on his chin)
Bralen (entering the apartment): Whew! It’s getting hot outside. Oh, hi there… didn’t know there was company.
Tristan: Oh, Bralen, this is—
Bralen: Oh, my goodness! I recognize you from Court TV. You’re—(scratching his head)
Estrella: Estrella Tartaro.
Bralen: I was just about to say that. You represented that actress Lindsay Slocumb when she crashed her car outside the Abbey on Robertson Boulevard.
Estrella: She was being chased by the paparazzi, you know… fucking bastards they are!
Bralen: Tristan used to moonlight as one.
Estrella (sotto voce) Among other things. (aloud) Is that so?
Bralen: Yes. So how do you know him? (walking over to Tristan and wrapping his arm around him)
Estrella: We’re old friends. (smiling) You know how we Italians stick together.
Bralen: Babe, who’s been kissing on you?
Tristan (feeling awkward): Vittoria, my roommate, was just so happy to see me.
Bralen: So, Estrella, I understand you’re representing L.A.’s newest celebrity couple, the Debenhams.
Estrella (noticing the shocked look on Tristan’s face): Oh yeah, they want me to take down the bastard that took nude photos of them, and I aim to bring him down to his knees.
At that moment, Vittoria enters the room.
Vittoria (to Bralen): Who the hell are you?
Bralen: My name is Bralen.
Vittoria: Oh, you’re the one Tristan’s fucking this week.
Estrella (emphatically) What?
Vittoria: Nevermind. Estrella, let’s take this conversation down to the pool. It’s beautiful outside. Besides, my whore of a roommate needs some alone time.
Estrella: Well, it was nice meeting you again, Tristan. (turning to Bralen) and you, too, Mr. Jones. Good luck in Beijing.
Bralen (blushing): Oh, you know about me?
Estrella: Yes, I know some about you (and turning to Tristan) and now I know a little more about you too. Ciao!
They leave the room.
Bralen: I thought those bitches would never leave. (pushing Tristan into the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind them)
FANCY’S RESTAURANT, GLENDALE, CALIFORNIA, FRIDAY NIGHT
It was an annual tradition on the Friday prior to Pride Weekend for the Los Angeles Outrunners Club to have a special dinner at Fancy’s , the same restaurant where they would normally have breakfast after the Saturday morning runs. The main banquet room had been reserved for the occasion, and its walls were decorated with poster-sized photos of the group’s top runners/athletes. Nathan and Bralen’s faces greeting them—images of both crossing the finishing lines in various marathons and winning the top slots in their respective age fields.
Allison, Chloe, Drake, Austin, Bralen, and Tristan were all present in the room along with numerous other members of the organization, enjoying food and fellowship.
Allison (to Chloe): Are you fine with coming here? You’ve been very quiet.
Chloe: I’m a bit tired but otherwise fine.
Allison: Are you sure you don’t want to leave? If so, I can get someone else to speak.
Chloe: No, you’re the club’s acting vice president, and since Nathan couldn’t make it, you must make the annual speech kicking off the group’s celebration of Pride Weekend.
They kiss before Allison ascends to the podium and taps on the microphone.
Allison: Good evening, everyone, I hope that you’re all enjoying the delicious food here at Fancy’s and that you’re all hyped for the weekend. We have a whole slate of events planned for this weekend’s festivities.
At that moment, Callum entered the banquet hall pushing a stroller. Allison immediately excused herself from the stage, insisting everyone continue eating, and rushed down onto the floor to confront Callum.
Allison: How dare you show your face here!
Callum: You conveniently keep forgetting that I’m a member of this club.
Allison: After what you’ve done, I could kill you right now.
Callum: Cool it, Lezzie Borden! I haven’t done anything.
Allison (dexterously pushing him out both the banquet hall and out of earshot of everyone): I don’t give a damn what Kyle or anyone else thinks, I know you’re behind the attacks on Chloe and me.
Callum: T’is a pity that Detective Walgrove was reassigned.
Allison: How do you know about that? I’m sure that you had something to do with it.
Callum: You and your allegations! Why don’t you get another summer pastime? Try teaching shop class at West Hollywood High.
Allison: You’re guilty as sin, and so help me God, I’m going to prove it.
Callum: I need a drink. I don’t know how Chloe tolerates you.
Allison: Don’t you dare say her name after what you did to her!
Callum: What I did to her? As I understand it, either Mr. Ed or Seabiscuit is to blame for your loss.
Allison (raising her hand to strike): You bastard!
Callum (grabbing her hand before it strikes him): Not this time, Xena!
At that moment, Kyle comes out the banquet hall and sees the spectacle before him.
Kyle: Am I interrupting something?
Allison (jerking her hand away from Callum): No, I-I-
Callum: I was just telling Allison that she should take her frustrations out on the horse. Look at this way: she’ll get some glue and probably some threats from PETA (People for Ethical Treatment of Animals).
Kyle: Callum, I think you should not be upsetting Allison. Perhaps you should leave the restaurant.
Callum: I came here quietly, and I have every right to be here.
Allison: Kyle, you should have heard him earlier.
Kyle: Look, Callum, I understand that you want to participate in club activities, but I’m—
Callum: Just looking out for Allison. You needn’t lie about it. I know the spell she has over you lot. After all you came by my house for that little interrogation based solely on her petty accusation.
Allison: You threatened me!
Callum: And you assaulted me and damn near did it again just now.
Allison: I wish I had.
Callum: Detective, I demand you take her into custody.
Kyle: I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Callum.
Callum: Oh, I see. Take her side, Detective. You’ll be dealing with a lot soon anyway.
Kyle: What’s that supposed to mean?
Callum: Well, you were reassigned after all. You’re best mates with Nathan, Brendon, Allison, and Chloe, all of whom were viciously attacked—and that has clouded your judgment in objectively investigating these cases.
Kyle: Excuse me, but who the hell are you to be saying such things?
Callum: I’m so sorry to have stepped on your toes. It wasn’t like you were making much progress. You’re no Sherlock Holmes, but then again when was the last time your city police force ever solved a crime. Ever since the Black Dahlia murder case, you guys don’t know your heads from your tails.
Kyle: You have some nerve I think you should go now.
Callum: Or what?
Allison: He’ll throw you out. (pause) No, we should be civil, Kyle. We’ll have the manager throw you out on your ass.
Callum: Oh my, my, my… did you two not get the memo? I own this place.
Kyle: What?
Callum: I bought it a few days ago. I acquired two businesses, an apartment complex in West Hollywood and this restaurant here in Glendale.
Allison: He’s lying. Where’s Enrique? He’ll throw him out for us.
Callum: I see you didn’t get the second memo. I sacked him… gave him the pink slip and his walking papers.
Allison: Oh, look there’s Angie. Angie! (beckoning for her) She serves us every Saturday morning.
Angie the waitress comes over.
Angie: Hi, Allison. (turning to Callum) Hi, Mr. Sutcliffe.
Kyle: You know him?
Callum: Duh!
Allison: He claims to have bought this place.
Angie: That’s right.
Callum: Angie, would you please see to it that the Outrunners party gets our best wine?
Angie: Yes, sir. (she leaves)
Callum: Now that you have some confirmation of my claims, I think I shall proceed forth with my official duty as owner. (He goes off and returns with a sign that reads “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone,” ostentatiously showing it in Allison and Kyle’s eyesight.) Don’t you just love how one can still discriminate people in America long after your country’s historical civil rights movement? (turning to Kyle)
Allison: I think I speak for the both of us when I say we’re leaving.
Callum: That was my objective.
Kyle guides Allison back into the banquet hall as Heath exits it on his way to the bathroom, exchanging a brief glance with Kyle. As the door closes behind them, Heath walks over to Callum.
Heath: What was that about?
Callum: Nothing really. I was attempting to take out the garbage.
Heath (snappishly): Whatever! I don’t want to get embroiled in your shit with Allison.
Callum (taken aback by Heath’s words): What’s up your ass? (pause) It’s certainly not Tristan—pun definitely intended.
Heath: Spare me your thoughtless remarks, Callum.
Callum: Really, what’s the matter?
Heath (sighing): It’s Tristan.
Callum (throwing his hands up emphatically): What else could it be? What’s he done now that’s got your knickers in a twist, (winking at him) assuming you’re wearing any.
Heath: It’s not so much Tristan as it is Bralen. He’s in there, slobbering all over Tristan.
Callum: What do you want to do about it?
Heath (cryptically): Did you get my message?
Callum (placing his hands on Heath’s shoulders): I thought you’d never ask. I did get it, and trust me when I say that by the end of this weekend, Bralen Jones will regret ever getting on your bad side. (pause) Anyway, I’ll contact you with details, but right now I must see to other matters.
Callum goes to the banquet hall in time to see Kyle getting his stuff, Allison getting her belongings together, and Chloe holding the baby in the corner, cooing at him. Edward! Bloody hell! I left him alone when that wretch had dragged me out the room!
Callum (rushing up to Chloe): Thanks for looking after him.
Chloe: He started crying. I thought I had lost him.
Callum: I’ll take him now.
Chloe (pleadingly): No, please let me hold him a little longer.
Allison (coming over): Chloe, come on, we’re leaving now.
Chloe: What about the speech?
Allison: Drake will say some words on behalf of the Board of Directors. Come on now, let’s head out.
Chloe (holding the baby closer to her bosom): I can meet you back at the house.
Allison: Chloe, honey, give the baby to me.
Callum: I’m his father. Give him to me.
Chloe: No!
Allison: Kyle, could you help me?
Kyle (coming over): Allison, what’s the matter?
Chloe: They want to take my baby away from me.
Allison (inching towards her): Honey, that’s not your baby.
Chloe (stepping back from Allison): Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting. It’s our baby. How selfish of me.
Kyle (Allison having turned to him, a solicitation for help in her eyes): Chloe, let me hold him.
Chloe: Promise you’ll give back to me. (Kyle nods) There you go, hold his head carefully.
Allison (looping her arm around Chloe’s waist as Kyle hands the baby over to Callum): Let’s go home.
Chloe (shouting and drawing attention of others present in the room): Not without my baby!
Bralen comes over and helps Allison carry an uncontrollably emotional Chloe out the room. The last image all see of her is her screaming with tears coming forth. Callum places the baby back into his stroller just as Allison comes up to him.
Allison: Look at what you’ve caused!
Callum: Don’t you dare try to pin this on me. Your lover’s most likely off her rocker, having lived so long with you.
Allison (turning to leave): Rot in hell!
Callum: Allison, I’ve had a change of heart. You’re welcome anytime here at Fancy’s even when you elect to skip on the gratuity as you’re doing now.
Allison (grabbing the nearest glass of water): Here’s the gratuity! (splashing the water in Callum’s face) Stay the hell away from Chloe!
Allison storms out the room to the cheers and applause of Drake, Peyton, and Bralen for her embarrassment of Callum, who wiped the water from his face, grasped the stroller, and quickly took his leave of the festivity.
TWO HOURS LATER, TRISTAN BERSANI’S APARTMENT, WEST HOLLYWOOD
Bralen and Tristan return back to Tristan’s apartment complex.
Bralen: That was awesome how Allison threw that water in Callum’s face? I’m surprised he didn’t melt.
Tristan: I’m sure he had it coming.
Bralen (pulling him in for a kiss): Speaking of coming, we haven’t done that in a while.
Tristan: By “a while,” you mean like in the last four hours since we were away at the dinner? You ready to go at it again? Damn, dude, you should save some of that energy for Olympic training.
Bralen (unzipping Tristan’s trousers and letting them fall to the floor): I thought we’d have one more night of wild sexual abandon before cooling things down considerably so I can bring home the gold.
Tristan (stepping out of trousers): So how do you wish to mark this occasion?
Bralen: Well, I thought we would add a little spice this time around.
Tristan (kissing him): Oh yeah, what did you have in mind?
Bralen: Not what but who.
Tristan: Huh?
Bralen: Hold on a minute. (rushing to the door and disappearing down the hall)
Tristan (coming to the doorway): Babe, what the hell are you—
Bralen (rushing back up to him and placing his hands over his eyes): It’s a surprise.
Tristan: I don’t really like surprises.
Bralen: I’m sure you’ll like this one. I’m sure we’ll both like this.
Tristan: Okay, I’m tired of this. (brushing Bralen’s hands away from his eyes) Peyton? What the hell are you doing here?
Peyton: I guess I’m the surprise.
Tristan (to Bralen): What is this?
Bralen: Well, you know how I’m always looking for ways to challenge myself. So I thought about having some Olympic sex.
Peyton (sensing uneasiness): You know, I think I’m going to bow out. I was under the impression that Tristan was okay with it.
Tristan: I guess I’m okay with it if Bralen’s sure he’s up for the challenge. I’ve seen what Peyton’s packing.
Peyton: You have?
Tristan: Yeah, that one time we showered at the gym together. I couldn’t resist taking a peek.
Peyton: Well, you shouldn’t worry about Bralen. He’s tackled it once.
Tristan: What are you talking about? (brief pause) OHHH!
Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eD9Q8koJKZA) begins playing over the remainder of the scene. Tristan’s sudden exclamation coincided with Bralen’s expert mouth coming into contact with his cock, his throat seeming to miraculously expand to take in Tristan’s exceptional girth. It was amazing how quickly Bralen could drop to his knees and get the festivity started. Tristan could feel Bralen’s soft, wet pallet massage his hardness as Bralen’s hands reached forth to Peyton’s slacks, nearly ripping the zipper off them to unleash his similarly well-endowed treasure.
Pulling his mouth off Tristan, he positioned it on Peyton, his oral cavity once more having to restructure itself to accommodate something well above average. Just when one would get so comfortable with the blowjob, the other would pull Bralen’s attention away. This is so amazing, Bralen thought. What a way to kick off Pride Weekend! It wasn’t long before Peyton’s more dominant edge kicked into gear, and it seemed he wanted to monopolize Bralen, having grasped the back of his head to prevent him wandering back to Tristan. He had begun his hip action, slowly thrusting it into Bralen’s capable mouth.
Tristan then grabbed Bralen’s hand, putting upon his already saliva-coated cock, nonverbally communicating to him that he should at least stroke it when not sucking it. After a few moments, Bralen took a few seconds to breathe—something he hadn’t really done with his present oral task—and he looked at both dicks, wishing he truly had an expandable mouth to take them in simultaneously. Already knowing Tristan’s pleasure spots, his agile tongue sought them out, and wails of pleasure escaped Tristan’s lips, but once more Peyton’s hand grasped into Bralen’s hair and yanked his head back over into his direction.
This competitive manner continued for several minutes, and Bralen soon feared for the wellbeing of his tonsils as both men were becoming more aggressive. Too much testosterone! Damn, if they’re like this now, it’s going to be a full-out war for my ass! Dirty talk spewed from Peyton, who called him everything from whore to cocksucker, which only excited Bralen more as his lone hand—the other being occupied jerking Tristan—brushed up the incline of Peyton’s buttocks. His fingers began a journey of their own. What Bralen hadn’t expected was the sharp crack of Peyton’s hand as it slapped his face.
Peyton: What the fuck are you doing? Your fingers don’t go there, Boy! You need to be punished.
The sting still flaming in his cheeks, Bralen now directed his full attention back to Tristan as Peyton freed his ankles from the slacks surrounding them. I should have known he was a total top, not even wanting his ass played with. Suddenly, Bralen felt Peyton yank both his hands behind his back.
Bralen (yelping in sudden pain): What the fuck are you doing?
Peyton (snapping handcuffs onto them): Teaching you a lesson. Now get back to work!
His hands now manacled, this new arrangement definitely presented greater challenges for Bralen since his mouth was now the only outlet of pleasure for them. This increased the competitive nature between them, and his head became the proverbial sports ball that each team sought to have in its possession. Soon his warm spittle was all over the place—over both cocks, speckled across the floor, and running down his chin and onto his muscled chest—as he had no control over cleaning it without the facility of his hands. Despite their aggressive nature, Bralen remained considerate, trying as hard he could not to unintentionally graze either cock with his teeth.
This fashion continued for several more minutes before Tristan pulled Bralen up onto his legs. Thank goodness! I love giving head but that was spiraling into abusive territory. He then felt Peyton’s hand cup his firm buttocks and then felt his fingers trying to pry into him.
Peyton: Giving you some of what you tried on me!
Bralen: Unlike you, I don’t mind at all!
It was then that all three assembled themselves into a circled pattern on the floor where each got orally pleasured, Bralen at last being reciprocated for his prior tasks with Peyton’s mouth running up and down the length of his cock. Peyton felt thrilled that Tristan’s mouth was experiencing some difficulty taking him. You’re not the only “big guy” here, he thought. Of course, the major burden of pleasuring the two alpha males fell back onto Bralen when both got that gleam in their eyes that they were now ready to penetrate him. Bralen knew that both were 100% total tops so it was destined that he would be a well-spent bottom by night’s end. I just hope they’re not as competitive penetration-wise as they were when I blew them. I’m not sure my ass can take that type of treatment.
His prophecy definitely came true, for within the next hour he had been banged six ways to Sunday, and neither showed any signs of letting up. This permitted Bralen the time to compare their styles, his preferences ultimately leaning toward Tristan, whose cock’s girth and length minimally exceeded that of Peyton’s yet it was Tristan’s fiery and impassioned drive that ultimately won him the gold medal since the Italian stud loved kissing so much. Sure, he gets aggressive sometimes pounding at me, but his lips are never far away from either my mouth or the back of my neck—depending on the sexual position—and sometimes he whispers words into my ear in that native language of his. I may not know what he’s saying but sure sounds hot. Peyton’s style, on the other hand, was more straightforward as his main objective remained his overall pleasure, the true trademark of a dominant top. His thrusts were harsher and lacked the accompanying warmth of Tristan’s kisses, although there were moments when Tristan’s mouth would come into contact with Bralen’s lips whenever he whimpered because Peyton ventured too far into rough territory.
There was, however, one moment when Bralen felt he would be torn in half between the two sexually dynamic giants. This occurred when he was in a doggy position with Tristan ardently nailing his ass while Peyton endowed his cock with the properties of a jackhammer pummeling full force into Bralen’s mouth. Completely overtaken at both ends, Bralen had to call upon his reserve of Olympic strength to salvage his body from assured destruction. He sucked and was fucked with wild abandon until both men showered his chest and abs with their milky, hot splashes. It was Tristan who assisted Bralen with jerking his load out before all three fell into a heap upon each other, sleep their only mission.
For Bralen, it was a threesome for the record books. I survived it! Now all I need to do is consult a dentist and a proctologist.
CALLUM’S ESTATE, SAME TIME AS BANQUET
Justin had timed everything accordingly. He had hidden all the money under the mattress. It was only 200 $100 notes so it was easy to stash it away. He had also found a pair of car keys in the safe and thought perhaps they went with one of the cars in the garage. He threw the money into his backpack. He knew that Callum would be leaving for some important engagement so he waited for him to go, and then summoned Godfrey to send him on a bogus trip.
Justin rushed downstairs and to the garage entrance. The place was pitch black, and he had to fumble on the wall for the light switch. Turning it on, the room illuminated and he saw two vintage cars: a Jaguar and an Aston Martin. His eyes greedily looked at the latter, and he couldn’t wait to take it for an escape drive. He hoped that the keys in his possession were the ones that operated the vehicle. Trying them, he miraculously found that they were indeed the right ones. Having unlocked it, he threw his backpack in the passenger seat, he got inside, and turned on the engine, which roared to life. He pressed the command button for the garage door to lift.
He drove the car out into the evening night air. Godfrey had yet to come outside. He was almost free! He maneuvered the car out the driveway and onto the main road that led out the Hollywood Hills. He made one quick turn and came to an intersection where a sports car pulled up next to him. Its driver, a handsome and youthful male, nonverbally communicated with Justin that they should indulge in a bout of street racing. Though totally game for it, Justin was a bit hesitant as he didn’t really feel comfortable in a foreign car—the steering wheel on the right side along with his frustration with the stick shift.
The light turned green. Putting his anxiety aside, Justin’s foot slammed into the accelerator just as the neighboring car revved up, and both cars sped down the stretch of road before them, but then the road became winding, and Justin foolishly hadn’t paid attention to the yellow warning signs about hidden driveways along the road. He was caught off guard when he saw the back of a car coming out its lot. He swerved to avoid contact, but he soon realized that feverishly turning the wheel at his speed was not in his best interest. Trying to avoid the car, he nearly careened into a tree, and twisted the wheel again, losing control of the car, which spun off the road, smashed into a parked vehicle before it turned over onto its top, the windshield smashing to pieces. It all happened in a flash of a second. The horn was blaring loudly, smoke escaped from the wreckage, and Justin’s body lay somewhere underneath the crushed, mangled metal.
TO BE CONTINUED…
