Chapter 7
Jason Morgan climbed out of the Olympic-sized pool with a grunt, water gleaming off his well-sculpted muscles. He was naked as the day he'd been born, a practice he'd picked up back in senior year. Tony Summers did it a lot of times, too, prompting a lot of jokes between them about each other's genitalia.
"Hey, man," Tony called from his deck chair, his voice echoing in the vast, tiled room Dad had gotten the contractors to build in the basement floor of this house years back. "You think I wanna see that shit?"
"I know you do, you fucking faggot," Jason called back. "How'bout you fucking get outta my house already?"
"My pecs are bigger. My guns are bigger. You can't kick me out without a contest, and you'd lose."
Flexing his arms impressively, Jason grinned. "Are you sure?"
"Why, yes I am," Tony replied, sitting up and doing the same.
"I can't fucking believe my parents just gave me this place," Jason marveled, looking around him. "All I'm doing is going to fucking law school, and I own this house."
"Have you seen the place they bought instead?"
"Yeah, man, they're my goddamn parents. Fucking people are loaded."
"I just didn't realize they did that well for themselves while we were at Alabama."
"The Morgans are just better," Jason shrugged. "What can I say?"
Tony started to say something else, but Jason's phone began buzzing then, moving around on the deck chair Jason had left it on. Frowning, Jason went over and picked it up, flipping it open. He hadn't saved this number in his contacts when he'd gotten a new phone in March, but this one seemed familiar somehow.
"Yeah?" Jason asked, hoping this was an ex looking to fuck for a weekend.
"Jason Morgan, the one and only," Henry Evans said smugly. "How's it going?"
"All right," Jason allowed. "What's up?"
"Well, my brother's getting married and his bachelor party's tonight. I called Tony last week and he said he'd tell you."
"Yeah…" Jason said, glancing at his childhood friend. "Um, yeah, he told me."
"So?"
"So what?" Jason asked insolently, feeling himself getting irritated.
"Are you coming?" Henry asked. "I got a ton of people coming to the Lancaster place, like twenty minutes from your place. But we've got room for you and Tony if you can make it."
"I… yeah," Jason sighed. "Listen, man, I don't think I'm gonna make it. I got too much to do this evening."
"Hot date?"
"Pretty much."
"Nice," Henry said approvingly. "Can Tony go?"
"Oh, uh… we're trying a foursome this time," Jason lied casually. "Yeah, figured we'd try that shit out, you know?"
"Wow," Henry laughed. "I didn't think that was your style, dude. But go for it if you feel like it, I guess."
"Yeah. Sorry I can't be there. Tell Mark I said congrats on the wedding. Who's he marrying again?"
"Miss Michaels. You remember her?"
"Yeah, that hot fucking new teacher from senior year." Jason paused. "Mark's marrying her? Like, for real?"
I knew there was something going on when she got pregnant. I knew it! Damn, I should've put the moves on her first!
"You should come to the party, Jason. It's gonna be a hell of a lot of fun."
"I can't," Jason heard himself say. Thinking for an excuse, he added, "I'd really like to, but- like I said. Plans."
"Your loss," Henry said, and Jason could see the smug bastard shrugging. "I'll catch you later, Jason."
"Later, man."
Tony shrugged his suntanned, well-muscled shoulders as Jason hung up. "What'd you tell him all that for? You know we haven't got anything planned. Just more weights and swimming."
"I could hire a couple girls for us," Jason offered.
"What, Jason Morgan paying to get laid?"
Jason sighed irritably. "Tony, I'm not going. I don't wanna see those two assholes anymore. I'm done with them."
"Well, why didn't you say that when Henry called me last week?"
"I didn't wanna think about it then. Besides, I was busy working out."
"But we could go," Tony said. "It wouldn't be that difficult. We could just show up for a little while, have some drinks-"
"No!" Jason shouted suddenly, his voice echoing off the tiled walls, floor, and ceiling. "I'm not going! I said what I had to so I could get Henry off my back, do I really gotta put up with you, too?"
"Hey, man," Tony said quickly, holding his palms up. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Yeah, well, then how did you mean it?" Jason demanded. He toweled off, pulled his Brooks Brothers boxers and khakis on, then a black polo and sweater.
"I just figured it'd be fun to go," Tony said defensively. "I didn't mean to get you pissed off or anything. We went to a lot of parties that Henry and Mark set up."
"We used to go," Jason agreed. "And why do you think we did that, man?"
"Uh-"
"Because they weren't my parties," Jason said, still seething at the memory. "Because nobody wanted to go to one I set up if they could go to one that Henry and Mark set up. Did you forget who would've been king of my fucking high school if it wasn't for them?"
"No," Tony said quickly. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I'm not going," Jason said vehemently. "And you better not go, either."
"How could I if you don't?" Tony asked rhetorically.
"Who the fuck does that prick think he is, calling me up just like that, expecting me to drop whatever I was doing tonight?" Jason ranted. "Didn't I have to put up with him enough? For four fucking years, with him taking all the shit that was meant for me? He made life hell, man, him and his stupid cousin. Right up to senior year. Hell, the only thing good about that year was-"
Chris.
Jason stood there, rooted to the spot, hearing Tony's voice from miles away. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Where had Chris gone? What had happened to him?
"Jason," Tony said gently, shaking his friend's shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"Chris," Jason said in a quiet voice. "They never found Chris. He never came back."
Tony's eyes grew distant, haunted. He slowly shook his head. "No."
"Senior year. We met him senior year."
"Yeah."
"I can't- I can't talk about this," Jason forced out, feeling his chest growing tighter.
"Not now, you mean."
"What?"
"There's a lot of drinks upstairs."
"Yeah." Jason nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Tony dressed in his customary jeans, polo and leather jacket, that tacky thing he'd picked up in sophomore year at Alabama. Jason followed him upstairs to the bar. They each opened a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and gulped it down like it was water. Jason's head began to swim as he sat there, leaning forward on the bar, lost in a sea of memories.
"He was… my… besht friend…" Jason managed to say. "He was… he was so fucking… cool. My beshtest friend… besides you."
"Funny," Tony said. "He was always funny, man. He always had jokes."
"Yeah."
"I always liked him," Tony said, sitting up on his stool. "Always. He had fuckin' balls, man. He was funny and he wasn't scared of anything."
"Hey," Jason laughed, "you remember how he was a fuckin' virgin 'till he was fuckin' seventeen?"
Tony blinked, then cracked up, too. "Yeah! Yeah, I remember! How the fuck'd it take a guy like him so long?"
"Jeez, man, I don't fuckin' know," Jason laughed. "He sounded like a fuckin' little kid when he told us!"
Jason up-ended his bottle and gulped for five straight seconds, then set it down with a heavy thunk. "I… never liked… that shtupid ginger," Jason said. He took another drink, trying to drown his dumb, sentimental side from coming out. "Never. He was a prick."
"Whyhetakesolonggetlaid, anyway?" Tony asked, gulping down plenty more of his own drink. The discarded bottles on the floor around them said this had been going on longer than either of them realized.
"I dunno, fuckin'- fuckin' skinny ginger virgin," Jason reasoned. "But- but he worked out! And gains! He got strong and fucked! And I saw him nekkid 'cause he alwaysskinnydipped at my fuckin' pool!"
Tony belched thoughtfully. "I miss'im," he said. "He should be here."
"He always wanted my advice," Jason boasted. "I made him so fuckin' cool."
"Yeah, but he told meee you were a jerk," Tony retorted.
"Where he go?" Jason asked suddenly, starting to cry, unable to help it. He leaned toward Tony, smacking half a dozen glass cups, forgotten beers, and shot glasses off the bar and onto the prep counter below. "Where'dhefuckin go, man? Why?"
"I dunno… dude," Tony answered unsteadily, starting to cry too. "I-I don't think… he left us… maybe someone took'im."
"Lessgo save 'im," Jason said, hitting the base of his current bottle on the counter for emphasis. "If… oneofus… went missing… he'd look. Chris wouldn't… give up… he'd find us…"
"I dunno where he is," Tony said despondently. "Mebbe he was killed." At that thought, Tony sniffed, looking more distressed than ever. "Who'd do that, man? Everyone… liked him."
"Yeah," Jason agreed, nodding more heavily and emphatically than he intended. He gulped down another shipment of drink like it was water, long past even tasting it. "I… he was… so… fucking… cool… man…"
Tony nodded, taking another drink, crying freely now. "I miss him so much."
"Mebbehecomesback?"
"What?"
"Maybe," Jason said carefully, "I think he comes back?"
"When?"
Jason shrugged uncertainly. "Someday."
"Like… in Heaven?"
"If he died… he's up there?"
"Yess," Tony agreed, nodding several times.
"Okay." Jason gripped Tony's left shoulder, looked down at the floor, and threw up.
Tony exclaimed in Italian as the vomit splattered all over the floor, some of it going high enough to hit the other young man's shoes and pants.
"Don'- don' talk that fuckin' madeupshit tammeh," Jason blathered, nearly falling off his stool now. "Chris-Chris fuckin' spoke English, likeanMerican." He retched again, giving up what little his stomach had left. "I… miss… that stupid ginger."
Jason reached for his drink but knocked it away, and went down on his ass, his right shoulder landing in his vomit on the hardwood floor. "Goddamnit," he managed to say, flailing around helplessly.
"C'mon, Jason," Tony said, putting his hands under Jason's arms and lifting him up, pulling him away from the mess. "You're fuckin' sick, man."
"Leemeealone," Jason fussed as Tony went for his shirt, struggling as his best friend pulled it over Jason's head and threw it away. "I-don' wanna skinnydip," Jason declared. "I ain' ascoolasChris. He didn' fearnobody."
"No, he didn't," Tony agreed.
"Tony, Tony, Tony," Jason blurted.
"What?"
"Bathroom!"
"What about it?"
"I gotta go!"
"How is that my problem, dude?"
"Chris would hepme!"
"Well, I don't know where he is."
"Ifsomebuddee kill him, I'll fuckin' kill them," Jason vowed, turning dark and furious suddenly. "He was too cool an' nice an' shit."
"C'mon, Jason. Let's get you to the bathroom," Tony said with effort, like he was desperate to act sober right now.
"I can' takkabout Chrissober," Jason said, shaking his head repeatedly as Tony began dragging him along backwards. "Chriswasthebest an'- an' I missim."
"Me, too, man."
"Helearntalk summa that Eye-Talian 'cause-a you!"
"He did."
"Dass cool. He was so cool, man." Jason paused, looking up at Tony mournfully. "I-I effer tell him? Or what?"
"You said you hated him a lot of times."
"Aww," Jason said, overcome by remorse, wiping away tears as more rolled down his cheeks. "I din' mean it! I'm sorry, I just was afffraid people'd think it was gayamee iffIliked my bestfren."
"He knew all that, Jason."
"Sure?"
"I'm sure. He always looked up to you, man."
"Aww," Jason said again, now upset and moved by the idea that Chris had admired him. So drunk he could no longer stand up, Jason was free to miss Chris Marshall and mourn him, hope he was still out there and would come back some day, fear that he wasn't, and that he had gone- or been taken- without the chance to say goodbye.
"It's gonna be okay," Tony said, pulling Jason into a marble-floored bathroom and propping him up in front of the toilet.
"Inamemykidafterhim," Jason declared, hugging the toilet bowl and throwing up, retching horribly as a wave of nausea hit him.
"Chris Morgan?"
"Mebbe, but not 'cause I liked him," Jason blurted defensively, his lifelong self-obsession with being macho and cool reasserting itself. "He was sooo fuckin' gay, man."
"Yeah, that's why he fucked all those girls over Spring Break. And boned Nicole Miles all senior year."
"Shuddafuckup," Jason said, bracing himself against the toilet again. "He was… a fuckinfaggot, an' dat means gay." Jason giggled, liking the idea. "Yaknow he tol' me what hiss firs' blowjob waslike?"
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." Jason nodded many times in affirmation. "Said he needed my hep, 'cause it was sooo amazing or somethin'."
"Bet you asked him for… a lotta details," Tony remarked, leaning against the doorway, closing his eyes for a moment. "Oh, shit. I'm pretty drunk, man."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. So… you were saying, Chris… uh, he told you about his first blowjob?"
"Oh, yeah," Jason agreed. "I made 'im tell me everything. But I hepped him. Gavem advice. He said 'Thank you, this means a lot to me,' and I said- fuck you!" Jason laughed, almost giggling like a little kid.
"How'd his next blowjob go, though?"
"Sooo great, even way better than hiss firs'," Jason declared. "An'- an' he tol' me I helped, with advice."
"So you… you were like his best friend."
Jason retched, but his stomach had nothing left to give. He hugged the toilet for some time, retched again, and after a while nearly fell asleep. He leaned against the wall while Tony lay in the doorway.
"I-I wish," Jason managed to say, "we met him when we met. Little kids. Three best friends."
"Senior year," Tony said. "We had senior year with 'im."
"Notenuff time," Jason said, shaking his head. "More. Need more."
"Can't change this stuff, man."
Jason shook his head, wanting to argue, but what came out was "Yeah, but we can't forget him."
"We won't," Tony said.
Sometime after that, Jason passed out, and Tony followed soon after. The two young men slept for hours, insulated from the sun in the depths of the house.
For a while, Jason dreamt vividly of being back in 12th grade, listening to an anxious but excited Chris explain how he'd had his first time at the recent party. Then his mind took him elsewhere; it was 8th grade, during some dance, and a worried, middle-school-age Chris was telling Jason about his first kiss. Then it was 2nd grade, and Chris was introducing himself on the playground, thumping his chest to emphasize his masculinity, copying a gesture Jason liked.
Then the scenes spun forward again, with Tony and Chris in a 4th grade classroom Jason remembered, slouching, passing notes about being bored. Then in 9th grade, Jason peeked into the spare bedroom he'd left Nicole Miles and Chris in so they could 'get to know each other' on a dare, and all he saw was her on top and their clothes all over the floor. Then Chris was still skinny-dipping in college at Alabama, then yelling at his 15-year-old son for skinny-dipping at the expansive pool in his backyard, and Jason and Tony were laughing their asses off, thinking of awesome it was things had come full-circle.
But all that was swept away as Jason slept on into the afternoon of the next day, and when he awoke he remembered almost none of it- only the sense that Chris seriously had been too cool for school. And Jason didn't need any dumb dreams to tell him that.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Mark had barely walked in the front door of Drew Cadiz's new place when a grinning, bare-chested blond athlete seized his right hand and started shaking it vigorously. He was sporting a handsome suntan, extremely well-defined, buff muscles all over his torso, and his hair was an exact copy of Henry's conservative, but stylish blond.
"Well, well, well," the young man said, "Look who fucking decided to show up!"
"Forget your shirt today?" Mark asked, smiling at Carter Stevens. He was completely transformed from the timid 9th grader he'd been five years ago.
"Man, who the fuck needs one when you got muscles like this?" Carter asked rhetorically, patting his six-pack abs for emphasis as he let go of Mark's hand. "Henry called me, said you were getting married. I knew I had to fly up from Florida and see it for myself."
"How is it at Florida State, Carter?" Henry asked, pulling his own shirt over his head.
Carter beamed, and Mark thought again about how well he and his brother had done to manipulate a stupid little kid back in senior year. Carter had endured a year of hell, a year of cruelty and brutality, only to bow at the kings' feet and pledge his undying loyalty. Henry and Mark had fumbled the response when he first approached them, but quickly corrected course, and one blindly loyal boy had led to legions of Carters at Chamberlain High.
"Oh, it's fuckin' great," Carter said, shrugging one well-muscled shoulder. "Pussy, football, frat parties, beer. I even go to class sometimes."
Henry laughed, pulling Carter into a fierce hug, and Mark noticed the shock on Carter's face, then the joy in his eyes. The smallest gestures, the easiest fake acts of friendship or warmth, and you won people to you. Carter had written emails, eagerly taken phone calls, and stayed in steady contact with Henry and Mark all through high school and into his current sophomore year of college.
"Make any mistakes lately?" Henry asked Carter, lowering his voice to do so.
"No. Not since last time," Carter whispered back. "Thanks. You saved my ass."
"He really is just like you," Mark commented. "Carter, man, did you know Henry's gotten a chick pregnant by accident two times now? That we know of, I mean."
"Fuck you, Mark!" Henry exclaimed, hugging Carter closer to him before letting him go. There was an almost homoerotic look of adoration on Carter's face for a moment as he looked at his idol, and Mark wondered if Carter didn't worship Henry just a little more when the Blond Beast had his shirt off.
Still, homo or not, Carter was loyal and he'd worked day and night to perpetuate the system Henry and Mark had built. He'd even thought to crush dissent inside other athletics programs, to the point where the basketball team had almost copied the football and hockey teams' initiation trials and rituals verbatim. The cross country team stayed out of the way as always. Only soccer boys remained defiant, and they were constantly mocked for it.
As reward for his loyalty, to keep Henry's first protégé from suffering any consequences that could derail his rise (and thus his ability to continue influencing others to be more like Henry and Mark), Mark and his brother had made quick arrangements when Carter had gotten his sixtieth Florida girlfriend pregnant. His carelessness and disinterest in wearing condoms- again, in imitation of his idol- had nearly gotten Carter in hot water. Instead, everything was smoothed over. Henry and Mark had charmed everyone they needed to, like they always did, and Carter broke up with the girl after she gave birth and the infant girl was given up for adoption.
"Oh, I think you've been doing plenty of that with Gwen," Mark laughed.
"Nice, by the way," Carter said, nodding to Henry. "Nice going with her."
"Henry, did you tell him already?"
Henry put on a mock look of surprise. "What, wasn't I supposed to tell the Carter Stevens that I'm having another boy and I'm engaged to a hot piece of ass?"
"It's not just the ass," Carter said enthusiastically. "She's all hot, man, every fuckin' inch. She makes all the Chamberlain girls look like 5's."
"It's insane how hot Gwen is," Henry agreed. He lowered his voice again. "Carter, fucked any Jews lately?"
"Like I'd stick my dick in that," Carter scoffed. Then he reconsidered. "Well, if she was an 8 or more, just fuck her and leave. But, can't pollute the blood, you know?"
"I know. I taught you all that," Henry said. "Phones and email are great things."
"Honest, man, I only fuck hot blondes most of the time," Carter went on. "And you should see me at the gym with Mikey. We're fuckin' beasts."
"Bench seven hundred pounds yet?" Mark asked.
"Well, no-"
"You're not as good as us then, are you?"
"No one will ever be as good as you guys," Carter said, shaking his head. "That's a fact. So I'm gonna get as close as I can to the level you're on."
"Wise man," Mark said.
"Hey, you fuckers made it!" Michael Cadiz called out cheerfully, shouldering his way through the crowd and flinging his shirt at some girls, who started arguing over which of them caught it. Michael had grown into a handsome, well-built college athlete just like Carter, and the two remained best friends. Taking eagerly after his brother, Michael had done so many vicious things to the weaker and less popular students at Chamberlain that even Mark and Henry had been impressed with his creativity.
Jacking off into a toilet and then giving the victim a swirlie- all but guaranteeing they'd gulp in water with the semen in it- had become Michael's signature, one had and Carter had used until graduation and taught to other boys they'd deemed worthy, their own successors and followers. But because he was handsome, polite to adults, confident and a skilled athlete with a sterling record, Michael had never suffered any serious consequences to anything he had done. He'd learned the cruelty Henry and Mark wanted him to, and that pleased them both greatly.
"Mikey," Mark said, as they shook hands manfully.
"You believe this, Carter, man?" Mikey laughed. "Mark Evans, getting married! I can't fuckin' believe you ever gave up bachelor life, dude. Shit's the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Where's Drew?"
"Oh, he'll be down in a second. He's busy fucking his other other girlfriend right now."
"How many's he up to?"
"Well, at NC State he had four, none of 'em knew about each other. Dude, it's all just a football game. Get to the touchdown. Nothing else even matters."
Mark smiled, thinking about how a small boy with a red mop of hair had once learned this at his brother's feet. Drew had passed on his ideas well, and Mikey had proceeded to use girls as disposable toys and trophies year after year, charming and deceiving them skillfully, almost effortlessly. Carter, being the same way, barely acknowledged the fact that he'd fathered a child. It had been a girl, and thus not important. Had it been a boy, Carter might have raised him as an heir.
"Anybody who thinks otherwise is fucking wrong," Mark told Mikey. "You and Carter are making us proud. Keep being fuckin' badass, man."
"Always." Mikey sketched a salute casually, but his voice trembled with emotion as he said it. Like Carter, he was slavishly devoted to Henry and Mark, to anything they said they believed in or wanted him to do. The nervous little kid had vanished, and Mike Cadiz was a man built in his idols' image now. Just as Henry and Mark had wanted.
Mark pulled off his shirt as he walked further into the house, greeting various 'friends', followers, girls by the dozen. The appreciative looks he and Henry received from the young women and girls, the adoration and envy from the young men and boys, just never got old. Knowing Julie was at home looking after the kids, Mark began picking out his first choices for tonight, knowing pretty much all the chicks here were hoping to get a last chance to fuck him before he married.
Ugh, I still can't believe I'm doing that, Mark thought with disgust as he chatted up a pretty brunette who had clearly come here with a date. Carter and Mikey sidelined the boy before Henry even needed to, though, so Mark soon had her upstairs in his reserved room, admitting, as he listened with a caring, attentive expression, that she was a virgin and she had a boyfriend downstairs.
Six minutes later, as Mark effortlessly humped the girl using the powerful muscles in his lower body, he realized he barely remembered anything the girl had said to him, or even what her name was. She clung to his back desperately, asking him to slow down, and Mark gave a half-shrug and kept going. It wasn't like her name mattered. Or like she mattered. Afterwards, Mark got bored, shrugged her off him, and somebody, some kid hoping to earn his favor, sent in the next one. The girl seemed surprised at this, but she'd never been with Mark before, didn't know how things worked. Stephanie, or something; she'd babbled some nonsense about having been a freshman when Mark was a senior. He didn't care. This was his last big event as an unmarried man and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Knowing Mark would want a steady supply to keep him entertained, Henry talked over a dozen girls attending the party into lining up outside his reserved door. They each walked back out around an hour later, sweaty and amazed, even the ones who'd been with Mark before. Boys and college men crowded around Henry to ask him about Mark, since he'd talked with only so many of them before going upstairs. Mikey Cadiz and Carter Stevens, as their oldest proteges, also fielded questions, and when they weren't busy took some girls aside for themselves.
It never ceased to amaze Henry how many of the boys would drink themselves sick at these parties; Mikey and Carter both grew drunker as the night went on, and the questions and comments about Mark's marriage and fiancée and so on grew more incoherent, whoever they came from. Carter bragged at one point about how he never took no for an answer, and Mikey agreed vehemently before they both vomited on the floor. Henry knew these two had raped girls before and gotten away with it, and that they didn't feel any real remorse. It was one of the reasons he let them think they were so valued. Rape was easy for Henry and Mark, but not for most guys, and Carter and Mikey had done well.
Drew Cadiz stayed sober the whole time, keeping an eye on his new house. He put up with Mikey's vomiting and incoherent babble, kept a room reserved for him and Carter to take turns using, and gave Mikey some ice when he complained his balls hurt too much to keep going.
"You really love him, don't you?" Henry asked Drew as the two of them sat side-by-side at the bar.
"Yeah. Same as you and Mark, honestly. I've seen how you two look at each other."
"I can't imagine life without Mark," Henry allowed himself to say. He rarely became emotional even after trading soul pieces with Mark, but he didn't trust himself to stay calm and scientific when discussing his beloved sibling. He owed Mark so much.
"Mikey used to hide in my room because thunder scared him during the big storms," Drew recalled. "Now he fucks so much he needs ice for his balls. And he still goes to me for whatever he needs most."
"Keep him close and look after him, and he'll do fine," Henry advised.
"I'll keep him clear of the attractive girls at the wedding," Drew replied. "He's the horniest thing I've ever seen. God! I swear I was never that bad in college. He fucks like there's no tomorrow, man." Drew paused. "Well, Mark's had a line outside his door for hours, so what am I saying?"
"I better go get him, give him a break," Henry said thoughtfully. "Just continue keeping these idiots in line. They get too loud, kick people out if you need to."
"That time Mikey had to get a little rough with that chick," Drew said in a low voice, "I know what her family tried to do to him. You made sure I got the people I needed on the team. You saved my brother. You ever need anything, for the rest of my fucking life, you call me."
"I appreciate it, Mr. Big-Shot Lawyer."
"Mikey just wanted some pussy, and he'd been dating that girl for weeks," Drew went on quietly. "I'm just glad the judge didn't believe what those people said. That isn't Mikey."
"Liars, man," Henry said knowingly. "They'll fuck everything up if they get the chance."
"Jesus," Drew said, shaking his head slowly. "I'd have killed them for that, you know. They're lucky all I did was bury some stupid accusations in court. Well, the big lawfirm boys did; I couldn't represent Mikey myself, I'd be 'biased' or something." He paused. "How did you even get those guys? People you called, the caseloads they have-?"
"I'm connected," Henry said simply. "Mark and I know people. And we take care of our friends."
Drew nodded gratefully. "I'll follow you guys anywhere."
"Sorry about- your best friend," Henry said with every hint of true sympathy. Drew nodded again, unable to speak. The death of his longtime friend, football and hockey teammate, and gym partner to something as common as a car accident still bothered him. A complete idiot at heart, Andrew Cadiz actually believed people lived forever if you liked them enough. Or something.
The reality was, people only lived a little while, and that was subject to change anytime. Because if Henry and Mark wanted them dead, they died, and no one could do anything about it. Luckily for these happy, oblivious party-goers, the only murders Henry and Mark would do tonight would be in private at their home, their real home in Fleetwood Hall. Mark would rape and kill a beauty Henry had kidnapped just for him, and the house would consume her as it did all its victims, body and soul.
But that would be later, once Mark had taken a break. Because he knew his brother, Henry already knew he needed to intervene. If he left Mark to his own devices, the badass who had once been scared to kill a dog for fun or throw a dummy off a bridge to cause a car crash would just stay in that room all night, fucking chicks and not bothering to learn their names.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Troy Lancaster had been hanging around this house for hours, trying to fit in, hoping no one would realize he was the youngest person here. He'd loitered in one spot or another while trying not to look like he was loitering, drinking awful-tasting beer from a red Solo cup.
But then two towering, well-muscled young men came downstairs, one of them completely naked. They weren't just anybody, either. In the living room, two of the greatest athletes and heroes of all time, the Evans brothers, were talking. The one with the auburn hair, Mark, sounded exhausted, wiped out, and that gave Troy an idea.
Much to his embarrassment, Troy was a virgin. He was handsome, muscular, a promising athlete and a confident ladies' man, but like a lot of his friends in middle school he just hadn't fucked any girls yet. And that was a problem he had to solve if he wanted to get a good start on being a big-shot in the freshman class this fall.
Until tonight, Troy had been worried he'd end up with no more than a tie with his cool idiot of an older brother, Peter, who had gotten his first in 9th grade. But listening to the Evans brothers talk… He swallowed the rest of his third beer and marched right into the room to speak to them before he could even think of hesitating.
"Hey," he called out to them, "I'm Troy. Peter Lancaster's brother."
"Who the fuck is this kid?" Mark demanded. He was slouched in an armchair, completely naked, like a Greek statue come to life. Troy quickly averted his eyes, but he hadn't realized you could even have eight-pack abs, or that anybody had a cock that big. The stories hadn't come close.
"Peter's brother," Henry Evans said to Mark. "Good family, good stock."
"Scrawny little fuck," Mark sighed, swiping at his damp auburn hair. "You wanted something? You better hope you got something to talk to me about, man."
"Let me swap in for you," Troy said boldly. "I'll go up there. I'll keep those girls happy. You can stay down here, put some ice on your balls, go get some BK, I don't care. You need a break, man, and I'm here to help you out."
Henry and Mark glanced at each other, then at Troy.
"You seriously think you can swap in for me?" Mark asked.
"Well, I'm kinda new," Troy admitted, "but I'm really strong. And I'm hung like a-"
"Wait, wait, you're, what, twelve?"
"Fifteen," Troy insisted. "And I'm huge, like, way bigger than anybody else my age."
"Huge?" Mark laughed. "Okay, kid, prove it. Let's see right now."
Troy gaped at them. "W-what?"
The look Henry gave him was almost pitying. "Kid, we've seen naked boys before. Hurry up."
"Uh-"
"You don't have any dignity. We own you. You exist in a world Mark and I built. Hurry up, or I'll show you how to fly off the fucking front porch."
Troy stripped faster than he'd ever done in his life, his modesty long forgotten. Blind obedience was the rule for lower-ranking boys on Chamberlain High's big teams, and Troy was facing the men who had built that system and led the football and hockey teams to glory. Years of obsessive workouts had made Troy a strong, fit eighth grader, and he figured he was endowed pretty well for his age. He just stood there and hoped for the best.
"Comes from good stock, all right," Mark conceded, glancing at Henry. "But he's a kid."
"You're fuckin' ballsy, walking in here like this," Henry said. "But you're a middle schooler. Look at Mark. Look at my brother. You seriously think a virgin middle schooler stands a chance at subbing in for a beast like Mark?"
Standing there naked in front of the two greatest men ever to walk the world, Troy felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. "No…"
"And you knew you'd get fucked up if you walked in here and wasted our time, right?"
"Yes, sir. I'm ready to fuck or get fucked up," Troy declared, standing at his full height. He might have been weak and unimpressive compared to two of the greatest men ever to live, but he was obedient, loyal, confident, and vicious. A true follower of the Evans brothers.
"You're ready to do either one, huh?" Henry laughed. "Go upstairs and fuck girls or get the shit beat out of you?"
"Yessir."
Mark laughed. "I got an idea, Henry."
"Mark, let the twerp go get you some ice. He isn't worth our time even if he's got guts."
"No, no. I like this kid. Let's get him upstairs."
OHSWEETYESYESYES!
"Sir, I'm ready to go," Troy offered. He had been working hard ever since 6th grade to prepare for the severe physical and mental punishment freshman year would mean for him. Beatings, merciless tryouts and brutal practices, humiliation after humiliation. Only the strongest, the most popular, the most obedient freshmen survived. Only if you followed orders without thinking and took punishments without complaining did you earn anything, ever.
And sometimes the older boys talked speculatively about a boy's "stock," something Mark and Henry must also have started years ago, from the way they used the word now. White boys were always best, and blond or auburn was best of all. Troy, riding off Peter's sterling reputation for obedience, talent, endurance, and strength, thus came from "good stock" but he was still regarded as weak, a mere child, having never proven himself as a man in the bedroom. The fact that he'd been in some serious make-out sessions, gotten hand-jobs, and gotten awesome head twice now, didn't count for much to the older guys.
"Wait here a minute," Mark told him. He and Henry went upstairs, and Troy stood there, naked and motionless in the darkened room, while Michael Cadiz got head out in the hallway.
Then a lot of disappointed-looking young women came downstairs, dispersing back into the house, and Troy's heart fell. He quietly sat down in the darkened room, looked down at the little worm between his legs, and cursed the fate that had kept him from just being a third Evans.
A couple of figures blocked most of the light from the doorway. Troy looked up.
"Get up and follow me," Henry told him. Troy wordlessly stood and walked out, not even pausing for his clothes. If he was supposed to dress, he would have been ordered to do it. As they climbed the stairs, Mark came into sight in the second floor hallway, talking to a stunning brunette Troy recognized from the varsity cheerleading squad at Chamberlain. She was a senior this year, one of the hottest in the whole school. She was Michelle Royston. Troy would have known her anywhere.
"This is the guy I was telling you about," Mark told her. "He's gonna be taking over while I get a break. He's up for it. Don't let his age fool you."
Michelle looked Troy up and down, and he knew every inch of him was being assessed and there was nothing he could do if she didn't like the view. Thankfully, she smiled at him. "Hey, Troy."
"Hey."
"You two go fuck," Henry said. "Why are you even still out here?"
Michelle laughed. "See you when you get back, Mark."
"Yeah. I'll see you. Count on it." Mark flashed her a smile and headed back downstairs, his clothes under one powerful arm.
Troy realized he was alone in this hallway, breeze blowing around his privates, and was just starting to get nervous when Michelle Royston whispered in his ear.
"So, did you wanna go fuck? Or stare at the wall over there?"
"Go. Let's go now," Troy managed to say. He managed a cocky smile, trying to mask the near-panic he actually felt. "So. You ever… done this before?"
Michelle smiled at him. She was stunning to look at, especially this close. The stories didn't do her justice. Troy quickly pulled his shirt over his head, flexing the well-defined muscles on his chest, shoulders and abs.
"Nice," she said. "You wanna play truth or dare?"
"Sure."
"Okay." She leaned in and kissed him. "You wanna play here in the hallway?"
"I do if you do."
Michelle laughed, but it looked like she was considering it. Then she took Troy by the hand. "C'mon," she said. "We need some privacy."
Troy followed her in, shut the door behind them, and barely suppressed a startled yelp when she shoved him against the door, pinning his arms above his head.
"Wh-what-"
"Now you can't leave," Michelle said, after aggressively planting a kiss on his lips. "Boys as hot as you are don't get to be virgins."
"Yeah- but- no, I'm not-"
"Shut up and unbuckle those pants, cowboy."
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Henry's latest gift to his brother was lying on the floor, not far from the Grand Staircase, when the two men walked into the mansion. She was around 20 or 21, Henry said, and Mark didn't even speak as Henry explained what campus he'd been near when he picked her up, how he subdued her and took her here. Now she was all his.
"You think this makes up for me having to get married?" Mark asked, not taking his eyes off her. Henry had stripped her already, left her unconscious, but he hadn't bruised her much. She was stunning.
"I mean, it might help, you know?" Henry suggested, pulling his shirt over his head.
"Oh, you think I'm gonna share her with you?"
Henry gave him a patronizing look. "Mark. We've shared every rape we've ever had here."
"Yeah, okay," Mark said, laughing. He undressed, pushed the girl's legs apart, shoved himself in and started. "Oh, man." He sighed. "I can't be this rough with Julie."
"I know. You need this so you can really let off some steam." Henry sat down calmly nearby, snickering as the young woman woke up, whimpering and shaking her head, unable to speak because of the gag, her arms tied behind her back. "I don't think she likes this very much."
"Man, who fucking cares?" Mark gasped. Had there really been a time when he would've cared? It was so distant now, like a dream of another world. Taking everything he could from others was the only thing Mark could imagine. This was the only way he wanted it to be.
When Mark was done, Henry took his turn, and they alternated for a while. Then they carved the girl up while she was still alive; it'd been a while since they'd really taken their time like this. After that, a trip under the Glass Library's floor was mandatory, since there was no way they could clean up in time to get back to the party, and Mark needed relief only the house could provide.
Once they finally headed back to Drew Cadiz' place, the party still in full swing, Mark and Henry walked in bare-chested and were greeted like gods arriving at a chapel of their most faithful. Mark smiled, especially when the little freshman, Troy, drunkenly staggered down the stairs to him, stark naked, knelt and swore devotion to him for life. Mark made a show of solemnly accepting the vow, then met eyes with the next girl in line, Michelle, and headed upstairs to meet her.
Two minutes later, while he was on his back getting head in the guest room reserved for him, Mark thought about what a summary this was for his entire life so far. He was the object of adoration, a sex idol, a role model. Everyone waited for him, did the things he wanted them to, when he wanted them to do them.
And here he was, having the time of his life, while his pregnant wife-to-be patiently waited at home with the kids. It was all so easy. And it was no less than what Mark knew he deserved.
A/N: 8-16-2021. I haven't updated in 8 months, but that's how it goes sometimes. The next chapter should not take as long; I've already got the first scene written for it and have others sketched out.
