Date: Sun, 19 Jun 2005 11:20:45 +0800
From: Lady Poetess <egiggles@moose-mail.com>
Subject: Strange Tails: Jesus

STRANGE TAILS: JESUS

DISCLAIMER

Story bears no resemblance to anyone dead or alive. If you insist that it
does, you have to be joking. This is just me testing out some experimental
kind of writing. The characters in this story are related to characters in
the stories I've written under the Gentlemen's Club series (you can find
some of them in the Gay > Celebrities archives here) because I like to link
stories up that way.

ONE

He was twelve when he persuaded sweet fifteen-year old Suzy Machado to drop
her skirts and let him suckle at her clit. But rather than remembering with
fondness how he, already a charmer with a reputation of seducing girls into
letting him play with their bodies, managed to talk Suzy into letting him
lose his virginity to her, he instead recalled the painful and bloody welts
on his back as his father whipped him with the belt when Suzy ended up
pregnant. He could still hear the tears of his mother or the scared screams
of his sisters as his father beat him in the living room before the rest of
his family.

What an odd thing to remember when one was dying, Jesus Manfredo Hoban
thought the moment the pounding headache ebbed to a tolerable level and he
could form a coherent thought in his head. He had spent his life defiantly
going against his father's insistence that he lived morally and only
spilled his seed into his wife. Jesus had two wives -- had being the
operative word, since his first marriage lasted only for three days (he was
drunk, seventeen, and in Vegas -- shit happened) and his second for two
years before his wife caught him in bed with both her brother and her
brother's wife -- but that didn't stop him from ejaculating his seed into
any one of his many lovers. Unlike his namesake, Jesus was a lowlife. He
would be the first to admit it. He was, after all, the bastard who
deliberately had affairs with other married women, not caring if he ended
up impregnating them because they couldn't hold any claim to him, not when
they were already married. He made sure that his victims were women who
married old men for money, power, and other shit, women who would be
generous to a young stud like him. He also played stud to men who could
reward him generously for his services but those men were few compared to
women. Sometimes, Jesus thought he preferred men to women when it came to
sex.

Where was he? Maybe he was dead. Jesus was expecting to go straight to hell
when he died. He knew he was nothing but a sleazy male whore after all. No,
worse than a whore, he amended, because a whore at least worked for money.
Jesus treated sex and people's hearts no better than toys to be broken at
will. He didn't care how many homes he broke, how many children he had
sired carelessly, or whether he would ruin the life of the person he
fucked. One of the blessings -- or curses -- of the Hoban men was that they
were, with few exceptions, always fertile. It was not unheard of for them
to knock up women even when these men swore on their lives that they were
wearing rubber. Only the knife could stop those potent Hoban sperm from
finding eggs to fertilize, and Jesus certainly wouldn't subject himself to
the knife.

So, was he in hell? Certainly when the plane crashed he thought he would be
going to hell. Jesus stood up shakily and surveyed himself and his
surroundings. His shirt was torn and his chest boasted a few bloody gashes.
Throwing off his tattered shirt, Jesus ripped it and bandaged his wounds
with the strips of his shirt as best as he could. He remembered coming hard
inside that cute air stewardess as they fucked in the plane toilet,
thinking with perverse satisfaction of his potent hot come swimming towards
her unsuspecting eggs and fertilizing one of them. Maybe he'd give her
triplets like he gave Donald Trump's fiancee. He had the reputation of the
Wall Street Asshole to live up to, after all, a bloody Hispanic upstart who
dared to rise from the streets and became as educated as those white folks
and beat them at the game of making money. They hated him, they respected
and feared his power and influence that stemmed from his ability to play
the stock markets as if he was psychic.

He was on a barren island, it seemed, with sand stretching as far as his
eyes could see, except for a small hill in the distance. Hoping that he
would find someone who could help him or at least tell him where he was or
how he was in a plane crash at one moment and adrift on this fucking place
with no sign of plane wreckage the next, he made his way towards the
hill. But he had taken only five or six steps when pain shot up from his
left foot to seize him in paralyzing agony that he had never felt
before. The agony was worse then when he was shot in the stomach during a
street fight in his misspent youth. He opened his mouth to scream but
mercifully the world went black instead.

He was dreaming again, he thought, although this time he was at least in a
dream of more pleasant substance compared to his previous dream. Gentle
hands helped him -- up or down, he couldn't be sure anymore -- and he was
lifted off his feet. He smelled a faint tinge of sweat mingled with the
more potent scent of maleness, a fragrance that he had always been
intoxicated by since a gentle English teacher in his high school seduced
him into enjoying gay sex, and he wished that he had the strength to press
his face closer to inhale the musky scent. His consciousness threatened to
slip away as he was starting to relax, and Jesus had no energy not to
succumb to the darkness.


He awoke to consciousness with a start. He was in a comfortable room
smelling of... he couldn't identify the light flowery scent but it was a
fine scent, calming him down and making him feel at ease. He looked at his
watch, which was working fine, and his head was surprisingly calm and clear
enough to make the calculation and realized that he had been unconscious
for nearly a week since the day he stepped on that plane for a business
trip in New Delhi. Perhaps he had dreamed the whole flight and he was still
in the bedroom of his latest one-night-stand, whoever he or she was? No, he
wasn't. His left foot was bandaged and there were clean and fresh bandages
on the wounds on his chest. Someone had removed his pants because Jesus was
wearing only his Calvin Klein boxer-briefs.

"Good morning," said a pleasant male voice.

Jesus turned his head at the doorway. He swallowed as his eyes feasted on
the sight of an ordinary-looking man whose face was neither good-looking
nor ugly -- his looks were just ordinary. The man was of average height as
well. His physique, judging from what Jesus could make out underneath the
man's simple T-shirt and loose jeans, was also unremarkable -- "slim" was
the best Jesus could come up with. But Jesus thought this man was the most
beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. It was the man's eyes that
made Jesus gasp, for they were of a shade of dark and deep blue to the
point that they were almost lavender gems.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Jesus asked. He wished he could be his charming
self but right now he was too disorientated to be on his best behavior.

"I'm Ephram. I found you unconscious on the beach so I took you in. Lucky
for you I'm a halfway decent paramedic so I cleaned you up the best I can
and bandaged what needed to be bandaged." Ephram placed a tray of simple
sandwiches and a glass of orange juice gently on Jesus' hips and Jesus
found himself hungry -- both for food and for Ephram. His cock was already
hardening to its full length and Jesus had to lift his thighs a little to
hide his randy cock's tumescence under the sheets. "You're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," said Jesus. He was feeling fine if he could look at Ephram and
wondered what sounds the man would make when he came. "And I'm Jesus.
Really, that's my name." He smiled out of habit to reassure people who
would always think he was joking when he told them his name. Ephram smiled
back and that sight caused Jesus' cock to throb painfully.

"I can contact my father and he'll get people to come here and take you
back to the mainland," said Ephram. "In fact, I nearly did until I realized
that I didn't know what you would like to do."

"That's nice," Jesus said, relieved that he was nearer to civilization than
he realized. "Where am I?"

"You're at Cat Island, which is just a name, really, of one of the many
islands owned privately by my father. We're about fifteen hours' journey
from Cape Town. My father has several private planes that can take you
there."

"Ephram?"

"Yes?"

Jesus grinned, knowing full well the effect it had on people. "You're
blabbering."

"I know." Ephram laughed nervously. "I don't usually meet people from
outside the islands. My father said that I should see the world like my
brothers and sisters but..." The fascinating young man looked at his hands,
clearly nervous, before looking back at Jesus with that expression of
curiosity and hesitation that Jesus just had to respond to by patting at
the bed and gesturing to Ephram to sit beside him. "You're naked except for
your underwear," Ephram said guilelessly and Jesus laughed.

"I won't bite," said Jesus, "unless you want me to." He took a bite from a
sandwich (strawberry jam, he tasted, and he thought it was delicious), not
really tasting it as he was hungering for Ephram instead but glad that he
had something to fill his stomach nonetheless.

Ephram surprised him into brief silence when the young man nervously pulled
his T-shirt over his head and stood before Jesus in resolute
determination. "I'm not sure about the biting," said Ephram with a clear
catch in his voice, "but maybe if you could..."

Jesus put the tray on the floor and kicked off the sheets. The sight of his
erect cock, the shaft escaping his underwear, throbbing hard and jutting
high against his flat washboard stomach, the tip reaching at least two
inches higher than his navel, caused Ephram to gasp. Wordlessly, the man
climbed onto the bed until he had his head between Jesus' thighs, but Jesus
knew at once from the man's tentative licks that Ephram was unfamiliar with
cock sucking. He gently lifted Ephram so that he could see the man's face
and kissed Ephram hard. His tongue masterfully forced Ephram's stunned lips
to part so that he could explore Ephram's mouth. Ephram at first could only
make small moans of muted pleasure as Jesus' tongue rubbed against his
erotically but soon Jesus found courage and confidence to try and emulate
the erotic strokes and caresses of Jesus' tongue in his mouth. Soon, he was
the one whose tongue was licking and tasting Jesus. They groaned together
in pleasure as Jesus and Ephram drowned in that kiss, their hands slowly
removing Ephram's clothes and Jesus' underwear

Only after he needed to catch his breath did Jesus break the kiss. "Now see
how the professionals do it," he told Ephram as he moved down the man's
body, raining sweet and hot kisses along Ephram's torso and stomach until
his mouth touched Ephram's throbbing erection. Ephram groaned and forced
his eyes to remain open so that he could watch Jesus slowly took his cock
into the man's mouth even as pleasure exploded in Ephram's
body. "I... Jesus!" Ephram cried as his inexperienced body lost control of
his pleasure and his balls violently expelled his creamy juices into Jesus'
mouth. Jesus swallowed, making sounds of pleasure as his experienced mouth
captured every drop Ephram had to offer. Ephram flopped back on the bed,
sated and weak from his orgasm, but Jesus continued licking at the man's
cock crown, teasing the sensitive ridge in ways that had Ephram once more
hardening with lust. For the next hour -- or was it hours? -- Jesus took
his time to savor and sucked Ephram, sucking and licking every inch of
Ephram's cock and testicles until Ephram couldn't stop coming again and
again until his balls ached in protest.

Only when Ephram begged brokenly "Please..." not knowing what he was
begging for did Jesus finally took mercy on him and covered Ephram's
pleasure-slaked body with his. "Please..." begged Ephram again, and then
Jesus was kissing him. Only this time Jesus' lips parted over Ephram's and
Ephram found some of his own come that he had shot into Jesus' mouth
flooding back into his own mouth. Jesus' tongue moved in to conquer, only
this time he was slowly relishing the act of using his tongue to lick and
scoop out Ephram's own come from Ephram's mouth as if he was enjoying a
feast of ice cream. Ephram's tongue matched Jesus' and they were both
drunken with pleasure and intoxicated on their shared feast of Ephram's
creamy juices that Ephram was only languidly aware of the pressure of
Jesus' wide and moist cock crown pressing against the entrance into
anus. Jesus kissed Ephram hard as he brutally thrust his thick cock into
Ephram and Ephram screamed into Jesus' mouth, arching his back violently as
every nerve in his lower body painfully protested against the invasion of
Jesus' cock that forced Ephram wide open and impaled on the man's thick
spiking penis.

Jesus gave shallow quick thrusts, wanting Ephram to get used to his size as
well as hoping to control himself. He nearly came on the spot the moment
his cock head managed to push itself through Ephram's unbelievably tight
pucker into the hot furnace of the man's anal sheath and even as he tried
to catch his rhythm, he could feel his cock leaking copious drops of
lubrication as well as potent semen into Ephram's anus. "I'm sorry,
Ephram," he whispered as he thrust home savagely once, driving his cock
straight in to the balls (and feeling some delicate blockage in Ephram's
anus give way), withdrew slowly, and then thrust home one more time with a
savagery that had his pelvic bone smashing into Ethan's with a loud and
powerful slap. And so he went, driving his cock deeply in and slowly out of
Ephram's tight hot ass, as he held Ephram and tried to kiss the man's lips,
chin, and even ears while Ephram howled, sobbed, and screamed in
pleasure-pain with each thrust of Jesus' cock deep into his anus. His legs
were spread wide by Jesus' powerfully muscled thighs as Jesus had Ephram
pinned to the bed with his cock and arms, with Ephram's buttocks lifting in
primal instinct to meet Jesus' every cock thrust.

Once, Ephram experimented with a vibrator and pushed it as deep as he could
dare up his ass. Jesus' cock, however, was plunging in and violating him
deeper than that long and thick vibrator did. It felt as if Jesus filled
every inch of his anal passage with that thick cock to packing point and
straight up into his rectum, if that was possible, because Ephram felt
completely stuffed with virile cock to the point of bursting. When Jesus
withdrew that cock, Ephram thought he could weep at the sense of emptiness
it caused.

Animalistic sounds were coming from Ephram's mouth, sounds that he couldn't
even recognized as his, as his body shuddered violently while orgasm after
orgasm splintered through his body. Their breathing was harsh and the sound
of their flesh violently meeting blended with both men's lusty sounds of
pleasure as they increased their fuck pace. Ephram was lost in his personal
climax after climax but he could sense that Jesus was close. And that dear
man, for making Ephram come so hard and so often, deserved his
succor. Ephram tightened his ass, screaming at the effort, and then Jesus
gave a husky shout of triumph as he gripped Ephram's thighs in a death grip
and thrust home so hard that Ephram gritted his teeth at the impact. Jesus
drove his cock in and out of Ephram, his rhythm lost as he surrendered to
his own climax, his fluids exploding in powerful pulses in Ephram.





"Ephram!" The name burst out of Jesus' mouth as he came to
consciousness. "Ephram?" he called again as he realized that he was lying
in a bed alone. "Where are you, Ephram?" he called as he tried to sit up in
his bed. The last he remembered, after that incredible fuck with his
rescuer, was the pain when he realized that he had torn something in his
leg during the energetic fuck. Ephram was apologetic and near-tears, in
fact, as he tried to staunch the bleeding. Jesus tried to tell Ephram that
everything was okay but he fainted again before he could do that.

"You're up. Good. Now I can get you the hell out of here."

That wasn't Ephram. It was a manlier, lower baritone while Ephram's voice
was that of a tenor of a young man who was at the brink of adulthood. Jesus
turned to the doorway and saw a powerfully-built, very handsome, and
bearded man of indeterminate age standing there and glaring at Jesus in a
manner that was decidedly hostile. Even with that hostility targeted at
him, Jesus couldn't fail to sense the undeniable virility radiating from
this man's physique. He was immune to the man sexually (his taste ran to
slender types, after all) but he was intimidated enough the way a wolf
would be towards the alpha wolf of the pack, but he would be damned if he
showed his intimidation to this stranger.

"Where's Ephram?" he asked.

"I don't know who the hell you are talking about. I'm here to send you back
to the mainland. Get dressed. I have no time to wait for you."

"Where the fuck is Ephram?" Jesus asked. A growl reached his ears and he
realized that it was from him.

"There is no Ephram that I know of. You must be dreaming."

Jesus could feel the fluids and slippery secretions of his coupling with
Ephram still fresh on his cock, thighs, and lower abdomen. "You tell me,"
he growled, "or I'll -- "

The man's fist slammed into his jaw. He thought he heard the man say
"That's for fucking with my son" but he could also see stars from the punch
so he might be mistaken. The world went black -- again.

"You shouldn't have done that," Ion Davidov said to his lover, his
disapproval evident, as he stood at the doorway.

Connor Axelrod gazed at his lover fondly. "And you, baby, is supposed to
stay out of view."

Ion wasn't offended by the man's words. He knew that he should stay out of
view. People would not know how to react to the sight of him. Getting down
gracefully to one knee, he touched the unconscious young man's neck and
felt the pulse strong under his fingers.

"I didn't kill him," Connor stated the obvious.

"But is it necessary to be so rude to this man?" asked Ion. He never liked
aggressiveness, having had enough in his life before he met Connor. "Ephram
is quite taken with him."

"How is Ephram?" Connor asked, genuine remorse creeping in his voice as he
thought of his son.

Ion knew how much Connor loved Ephram and placed his arms around the man's
waist in a comforting gesture. "He's taking it well. He understands the
damage he could have done on all of us. Ephram is sorry."

"But is he sorry because of what he did with this man or because of what he
has to do afterwards?" asked Connor as he looked at the unconscious man on
the floor. "Ephram should know better. Hell, I should have been more
careful. I took care of the plane wreck, relocating it and the bodies to
some island far away from our home, but I missed this guy. How the hell
could I be so careless?"

"But it's okay now," Ion reassured Connor, "because we'll drop this guy in
Cape Town and no one will believe him when he talks about an island,
especially when he doesn't know where he is at the moment."

Connor smiled at Ion. "Yeah, you're right." He bent down to pick the
unconscious man up and slung him over his powerful shoulders. "Well, let's
get him out of here!"

TWO

A year or so later

He was home. Jesus smiled without humor as he steered his boat towards the
fog-covered island. After so many months of trying, he had finally found
his own little Oz. What would those smug doctors in the asylum that they
locked him up in say? He had learned to shut up and play along until they
released him a month after they put him in there for what they thought was
crazy behavior on his part. Crazy, he? Who was the crazy one now? He didn't
imagine anything. There was a fucking island here and now he had proof to
show the world that Jesus Hoban was not crazy when he talked about being in
a plane crash and being rescued by an angel who...

Jesus gripped at his chest where his heart was as pain seized him. This
pain was momentary and it always passed, as he knew from experience. He had
this pain for the last year since he was found wandering around Cape Town,
lost and disoriented, whenever he thought of an angel with beautiful eyes
and an anus so hot and tight that when he came inside the angel, he felt as
if his very blackened soul had found some semblance of salvation. His
family members, friends, and even enemies thought he had gone mad after his
mysterious ordeal in South Africa. They had a fucking article in Times
about the "fall of a Wall Street genius".

He had no reason to live other than to find this mysterious place. His
entire life savings were used up to locate and finance his trip here, his
career had died the moment he was incarcerated in that fucking madhouse,
and he shut the door on his family members and his very few friends because
he couldn't bear to have them reminding him that he was insane to believe
that his angel was real.

Now, he knew that the island was real.

He docked the boat behind an outcrop of rocks and stealthily climbed up the
cliff. He had trained with ex-SEAL members and mountain climbers, he
practiced using sixteen different kinds of guns, and he had honed his
physical endurance and abilities to the point that he could hold his breath
underwater for thirty minutes, swim and run at professional athlete speed,
and perform gymnastic motions like somersaults and high leaps without
blinking an eye. He didn't know what kind of man he had become in his
obsessive drive to locate this place and he didn't care. All his training
couldn't help him sidestep the sophisticated security enhancements of the
island, however, and he had barely set foot on the island for ten seconds
when a loud, piercing alarm sounded, cutting the silence like a blade.

Men burst out from buildings, all well-equipped and ready to shoot
intruders at sight. These men were something Jesus was equipped to avoid,
fortunately. With a quick leap out of the way of the lights scanning for
him, Jesus started running for the shadows, not knowing where he should be
going but running for the hell of it nonetheless. And then he heard the
barks of the dogs. Shit.

He kept running, his well-trained and well-honed instincts helping him leap
across ravines and gorges in the dark. He climbed up trees in an agility
that he never had a year ago, leaping from branch to branch in an attempt
to avoid the men on his tracks. But they were always on his tail, fuck it
to hell. He ran and ran until eventually his legs trembled with
exhaustion. His eyes spotted a cave in a distance and he ran for it.

"He came here. I can scent him." Jesus gripped the knife in his hand,
anticipating on using it, as he heard voices coming near the entrance of
the cave. He frowned. What did those fuckers mean when they said they could
scent him?

"And I saw him running in here," came a female voice. "He's trapped. There
is no way out of the cave."

Jesus heard the distinct sounds of someone sniffing the air. "Yes, I can
scent him. And if I can, the dogs will soon. Ephram will be upset if Dad's
men catch this man."

"If he is the one Ephram is moping over," said the female.

"Who else will come here? You read those clips Ephram kept in his journal,
Lucy."

"Maybe it's better if this guy is dead then. Ephram cries every night when
he writes in his journal, although he pretends that he doesn't."

"Hah, he'll be mad if he knows that you're spying on him again!"

Jesus took a deep breath and with a roar, pounced on the nearest intruder,
hoping to have some advantage of surprise. To his surprise, however, he saw
himself looking at the terrified face of a boy who couldn't be more than
ten years old. He looked at the female -- at the face of a girl about the
boy's age as well. The boy's nose twitched. "That's him, Lucy!" he whined.

"Shut up, Abe, I can see that! He's cuter that Ephram's description of him
in the journal."

"Who..." No, that wasn't the question Jesus wanted answered. "Where is
Ephram? Take me to him, please."

"Dad won't like it," Abe warned.

"He already won't like it that we sneaked out of our rooms when we heard
the alarm," said Lucy reasonably. "Would you let us go if we take you to
Ephram?" she asked Jesus.

Jesus lowered the knife from Abe's throat. "I will do anything as long as
you can take me to Ephram," he answered truthfully.

Jesus nodded as Abe talked about "the older kids" having their own rooms
until they "went out" -- to the mainland, Jesus assumed -- and Lucy
occasionally cut in with her own guileless ramblings. From those two kids,
Jesus pieced together the fact that they were Jesus' siblings and this
island was very fortified and protected against intruders. Jesus couldn't
discover why, although he would suppose that their almighty father would
most likely be some terrorist or arms dealer with reasons to have some
secret hideout. He didn't care about anything right now, his blood rushing
in a head-clearing rush through his body as his expectations soared. He
would see Ephram again. As they made their way into a building (Jesus
noticed that Lucy keyed in 6744358211 as the code to unlock the door),
Jesus' heart thundered in his chest.

Ephram was as beautiful as he remembered. When Ephram opened his door and
he stood there, shocked into silence as he stared at Jesus, he was
everything Jesus remembered. Ephram regained his senses to tell Lucy and
Abe to run, and something in his face caused the two kids to quietly flee
the hallway, leaving Jesus and Ephram alone in this hallway.

"They told me I was crazy to believe that you are real," Jesus said through
the heavy knot in his throat. "They gave me drugs and they even beat me
when I insisted that you were real. But you are real, right? Or have I
finally gone mad?"

Ephram was crying now. Jesus couldn't imagine why anyone would cry over a
lowlife scum like him. "I have wronged you so much, Jesus," sobbed the
man. "I'm so sorry."

Jesus wanted to just hold the man in his arms and comforted the man. He
hadn't held anyone in his arms since he lost Ephram and his manners had
fallen to the wayside over the time he spent learning from soldiers,
mercenaries, criminals, and worse the art of tracking, scouting, and
handling weapons, but he was certain that he could remember how to comfort
someone in his arms. But he ended up kissing Ephram violently and Ephram
kissed him back just as wildly until their lips bled instead. It was Ephram
who ripped open Jesus' wet and soiled shirt so that Ephram could rain
urgent kisses over Jesus' erect dark wine-colored nipples, while Jesus
could only groan and thrust his swollen crotch into Ephram's hand.

A baby's cry interrupted their madness, guiding them back to sanity that
they didn't want.

"Who's that?" Jesus asked. The sound was from Ephram's room.

"Jesus, please -- "

Jesus charged into the room (briefly taking in the clean, well-lit living
area mostly filled with shelves of books, taking note of the location of
the bed in the room), only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw the cot
beside what was obviously Ephram's bed, at the baby crying inside the
cot. Jesus gripped the sides of the cot as he took in the baby's dark brown
complexion until his knuckles whitened from the effort. "He's mine," he
whispered, his instinct telling him what his brain couldn't immediately
process.

"Jesus, I..." But Ephram didn't know what to say, clearly.

Jesus' surprise melted into an unfamiliar burst of warmth as the baby
stopped crying and gave him a gurgle of laughter-chuckle sound. The baby
waved his hands (so short, so stumpy, Jesus thought) and Jesus took that as
an invitation to carry the baby in his arms. To his relief, the baby
laughed happily as he rested his chin on Jesus' broad shoulder. He must be
holding his son right, he thought with a rush of satisfaction.

"He's our son," he said, knowing it to be true even as he said those words
aloud. He turned to Ephram who was staring at him with a stricken look on
his face. "You and me made him that day when we fucked," he said. He gave
Ephram a speculative look. "How..." he started to ask but shook his head as
he realized that he could always ask questions later. Just like how he
would think about why this kid made him so filled with joy when he had
sired twenty-six bastards at least before his twenty-fifth birthday, kids
that he never given much thought of that he allowed other men to claim as
theirs. "My son -- our son," he said instead. "What do you call him?"

"Roman," whispered Ephram.

"It's a beautiful name," agreed Jesus. "And..." His words failed him as he
tried to tell Ephram that he would try to be a good father to Roman just
like how he would be a good husband to Ephram. "I want to stay here,
Ephram, with you," was all he could say. With one hand carefully cradling
Roman on his shoulder, he reached out with his other hand to Ephram. Ephram
took it, and they gripped each other's hand steadily as he took a step
forward towards Jesus. That was how Connor, Ion, and a dozen security
officers found them, hands entwined, the baby sleeping on Jesus' shoulder,
and Jesus and Ephram kissing each other as if they have never left each
other's arms since the dawn of time.

Jesus recognized the handsome and powerfully muscled bearded man and lifted
a brow as the other man didn't even try to look sheepish at his lie to
Jesus when they first met. But Ephram confirmed Jesus' suspicion when he
broke off from the kiss and muttered in a guilty tone, "Dad..."

So this was the mighty all-important ruler of the island. Instead of some
pampered fat slob, Ephram's father was built like a workhorse and his
muscular bulk would dominate and intimidate lesser men. Jesus, however,
felt only an instinctive need to challenge the authority of this man,
although he kept his behavior in check for Ephram. The slender man standing
beside Ephram's father was nearly pushed to the background in the presence
of the undeniably virile robustness of the latter, but he was in his own
right a slender but unmistakably ethereal creature whose beauty defied
conventional definition or description. He looked ordinary but he was
strikingly beautiful at the same time. It was evident where Ephram mostly
inherited his looks from.

Jesus had to conclude that this man was the one who gave birth to Ephram
because there was an unmistakable bulge in his stomach region underneath
his loose robes, and Jesus had enough pregnant women in his experience to
know the difference between a pregnant woman and an overweight one.

"I have come to ask your son's hand in marriage," said Jesus calmly to the
father, although he wondered whether the word "son" was appropriate given
the gender-defying sights he had seen on this island. "You owe me this
chance to be with Ephram. I would have been by his side instead of trying
to find my way back here all these months if you haven't taken me from
him."

There was silence as the others, including Ephram and the man by his
father's side, instinctively recognized two powerful alpha males standing
in each other's way and waited carefully to see what the other man would do
to Jesus.

"His name is Gregory," said Ephram's father finally. "Ephram is his middle
name but he prefers to go by that. And my name is Connor."

But when Jesus took Connor's offered hand and shook it, Connor only
deliberately crushed Jesus' hand as much as he could with his grip. Jesus
grinned insolently and responded in kind. Both men managed to refrain from
nursing their pained hands until they were out of sight of each other.

"Connor."

"Welcome to the family, Jesus."

"I'm looking forward to."





Jesus had the best of both worlds and he didn't understand what he did to
be so fucking lucky. As he urgently pinched Ephram's nipples with his
hands, he pumped his hips powerfully, driving his heated engorged cock into
Ephram's burning hot asshole in deep and bruising thrusts while his mouth
coaxed Ephram to kiss him. His tongue penetrated to lick Ephram's tongue
and the insides of Ephram's cheeks in the same rhythm as his cock was
sodomizing Ephram's sensitized anus, the dual erotic dance of their flesh
driving them into blessed intoxication as well as blurring the boundaries
of their bodies until they felt as if they were joined in the mind and soul
as well as in body.

Yes, he had the best of both worlds, he thought in pure masculine
satisfaction as he felt Ephram convulse in another white-hot climax and
felt the dam in his balls shatter in response to the erotic sight of Ephram
in throes of ecstasy. As his balls tightened and Jesus prepared to send the
first of many fertile ejaculations deep up Ephram's rectum, Jesus marveled
at his good fortune to find a male lover, whom he had always preferred to
women, who could also satisfy the erotic thrill he had whenever he poured
himself into his lover, knowing that right now his sperm cells were surging
into Ephram's system, seeking out eggs to fertilize with deadly efficiency,
Hoban style, an efficiency that had in Jesus' experience overcame even
rubber and IUDs. Knowing that he was most likely impregnating Ephram with
every red hot rush of his ejaculation into Ephram only intensified his
ecstasy, causing Jesus to collapse brokenly in Ephram's arms as he kissed
the man and whispered sweet obscene words of affection in between heated
kisses while his body, stimulated beyond reason, poured forth a deluge of
come in such an amount that would shock any of Jesus' past conquests.

After all, with the man he loved, especially a man with whom he could
create a child with to satisfy his primal masculine instinct to spread his
genes unapologetically, an instinct unsuppressed by civilization and
evolution, Jesus' body was primed to ensure that Ephram would be thoroughly
impregnated before the night was over. Just to make sure, however, he began
his seduction of Ephram all over again despite his confidence that his cock
had done its job. Since his cock had never softened despite his powerful
organism and that he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful than
the sight of a sweat-sleeked and flushed Ephram after a good fuck, it
wasn't just his unapologetic instinct to propagate that drove Jesus into
plunging his hard cock in and out of Ephram again. By the time they finally
collapsed in exhaustion some three hours later, both men were broken from
their many shared climaxes and it felt glorious.

As they lay on their bed, listening to Roman's soft sleep sounds (the baby
miraculously managed to sleep soundly through his parents' fucking), Ephram
explained to Jesus about him and Ion and Jesus listened, not questioning
any longer as he knew now that he loved Ephram without a doubt. Ephram told
Jesus of how Connor's father built this island as a base for genetic
manipulation in the search for eternal youth. When Connor inherited the
island after his father's death, he arrived at the island and freed Ion
from his tormentors, falling in love with Ion in the process. Even when Ion
was a genetic mutant, a humanoid created from the DNA of various animals in
some deranged experiment, Connor fell in love with the man and ended up
building a home for the two of them on this very island. Because Ion had
some rare amphibian gene in his genetic make-up, he could have
children. Ephram was one of the rare children that resulted to inherit
Ion's unusual hermaphroditic nature. He was definitely male in all
appearances, like Ion, but he had a functional reproductive system that
could enable him to breed. Like Ion, Ephram wasn't "male" or "female" in
the conventional sense. Jesus, not knowing that he was saying exactly the
same words that Connor told Ion, told Ephram as he held the man in his arms
that night that he didn't care whether Ephram was male, female, both, or
neither. "I love you," he said to Ion, feeling the chains around his heart
finally break as he confessed, "and to me, you are the one I love. No other
description matters."



Without his clothes, the sight of Connor would have either driven a mere
mortal to lust or into paralysis caused by the sense of inferiority
elicited by the presence of the man. His body was almost perfect, barring a
scar along the left side of his body that extended from his waist to his
ankle (an old accident, said Connor vaguely), so well-defined in its
musculature that would make Greek god statues pale in comparison. The only
sign of age in Connor was the light gray whorls in his hair and in the
liberal dusking of fur on his torso and stomach as well as the lines on his
face that were caused by his indomitable love and determination to keep the
ones he loved safe and sound from the world that wouldn't understand them.

But Jesus wasn't driven to lust or intimidated the slightest by the sight
of Connor in only tight red Speedos. In fact, he was all smiles as he
flexed his own body, covered only in blue Speedos which revealed or
concealed as little as Connor's swim trunks, knowing full well that
Connor's eyes widened at the sight of Jesus' bare physique. He could match
Connor's physical perfection muscle to muscle, hair to hair, from his
ruggedly handsome looks to the huge cock bulge packing between his
legs. However, Jesus was younger than Connor and the fact that Jesus' body
wasn't as hirsute as Connor's was probably no compensation to
Connor. Jesus' insolent grin was predatory as he knew full well that both
men were aware that Jesus could very well try to usurp Connor's place as
the alpha male of this world of theirs.

But that smile was eventually replaced by a gentler, more genuine version
as he helped Connor up to the boat some hours later. Connor hauled the
carcass of the white shark onto the boat.

"Nothing beats a good hunt," said Connor with satisfaction as he began
filleting the carcass that dominated the confines of their boat. "But you
did nearly as good, Jesus."

Jesus laughed. He had never hunted sharks before, much less while wearing
only Speedos and armed with a knife, so this time Connor did most of the
work. "Next time, Connor," said he. "I know now how to kill those
fuckers. You won't be so smug then."

"I have no doubt of that," Connor answered, surprising Jesus. "One day I
will be gone. My children will find their own way around the world but I
worry for Ion and Ephram. But you'll take care of them for me. I have no
doubt of that."

Jesus hissed. "I just love your son, Connor. I'm not good with
responsibilities."

"But you'll learn, Jesus. I wasn't good with responsibilities before I met
Ion. I fucked around in meaningless relationships, sometimes hurting people
just because I could. I can see from your face that you know what I'm
talking about." Connor handed the knife to Jesus and Jesus silently took
over from Connor in filleting the shark. "But if you love Ephram as much as
I love him and Ion, you'll want to protect them with all your abilities and
beyond that."

"Don't preach at me, old man. I..."

"I am an old man," conceded Connor cheerfully.

"Who knocked up his mate without fail each year," said Jesus with reluctant
admiration. "Quit the pretense that you are old and decrepit, Connor. I've
seen thirty-year old athletes who looked like weaklings compared to you."
He wasn't being facetious when he added, "I hope I'll still be going strong
when I'm at your age."

"I'm fifty-eight. I'm not exactly one foot in the grave." Connor made a
disapproving sound when Jesus botched up his filleting attempt and took the
knife from Jesus. "Hard physical labor and a healthy diet -- that's my
secret."

"I love it here," Jesus said. "It's so peaceful."

"Yeah," agreed Connor. "But it's hard maintaining the place alone. I'm glad
to have you around to help me out."

In the last few days, somehow both men had come to this moment of
truce. Jesus could have said that he never told Connor that he would be
helping Connor but he wouldn't be fooling anyone if he said that. Connor
was right. He would protect Ephram with his life. If loving that man meant
that he had to devote his life keeping this sanctuary safe for Ephram and
his family, he would gladly submit himself to the task. "Yeah," he said
simply to Connor.

Connor surprised Ephram by embracing the man. It was an embrace between a
father and a son-in-law, both men made sure of that. In another life, they
might try to dominate each other physically as well as sexually, but they
loved other people now. Hard hirsute muscular flesh pressed against hard
hirsute muscular flesh, powerful thighs caressed powerful thighs, and two
overlarge cocks came in contact, divided only by thin layers of Lycra and
nylon. But iron will decreed that both men would never cross that line that
could easily be violated. While their cocks instinctively swelled in that
embrace, while their hands lingered a second too long on the gentle curve
of each other's lower back, they broke the embrace after a few heartbeats
without regrets. In fact, Connor looked at Jesus' swollen cock head
protruding through the waist of the man's trunks and chuckled with good
humor. The chuckle turned into a good-natured curse when they both removed
their trunks and realized that even their cocks were equally matched,
length and girth, and almost identical right down to their thick veins and
the liberal amount of drops of clear fluid oozing from their slit.

Powerful pulses of come spewed into the sea a few minutes later. "I win,"
Jesus said with a triumphant laugh as he stood with his cock in his hand,
having come merely seconds before Connor. Connor, in a similar pose, joined
him in laughter. There would be many times in the future when they diverted
any potentially dangerous moments between them, when the lines of physical
rivalry could be blurred, into a friendly and harmless jerk-off
competition. As a result, they never became too caught up in trying to
assert their power over the other that they might try to sexually overwhelm
the other as they would have done to other people in their past. By this
unorthodox method of bonding, both men slowly moved from becoming rivals to
the best of friends. But to be on the safe side, they never told Ephram and
Ion about their many juvenile masturbatory competitions.





Weeks passed into months. Jesus realized that he had healed completely
inside when he found himself thinking that he should let his family know
that he was alive and well. He told Ephram this, like he always told Ephram
everything. While they both know that Ephram had once left the island only
to realize that he couldn't fit in with the outside world unlike his
siblings, Ephram said that he would be glad to follow Jesus if Jesus wanted
to travel back to America.

"It will only be for a few days," Jesus told Ephram, touched as he was by
Ephram's willingness to leave his safe haven for Jesus. "You don't have to
be with me if you don't want to." He would love to introduce Ephram to his
family but he was pragmatic enough to realize that he would never be able
to explain everything about Ephram and Roman to them. "I love you," he told
Ephram just because he could and he wanted to. "I love Roman. You two make
me want to be a better man for the two of you." He embraced Ephram and
placed a protective hand over the gentle curve of Ephram's belly. "And I
love this," he whispered, thinking that he could feel the heart of the
child they had created on their first night of loving when he came looking
for Ephram on this island so many weeks ago.

When he was not learning from Connor the staggeringly many duties they and
the inhabitants of the island, he bonded with Roman and hoped that he would
never disappoint his children. He sat in the nursery, watching in
fascination as Ion and the loyal nursery staff took care of the many
children of Ion and Connor. As he watched the bustle and tried to learn
hands-on the proper method of feeding, changing, and humoring an infant, he
privately was glad that unlike Ion who produced up a brood of up to eight
every year, Ephram would operate on a more manageable basis. He didn't mind
an occasional twins or triplets, but the idea of handling up to eight
babies every year was enough to make even the balls of a man with a fetish
for pregnancy like him threaten to shrink.

As he labored on his new home over the months and prepared to bring Ephram
and Roman with him for his brief trip to New York during his free time,
however, Ion went into unexpected labor that November evening and Ephram
did the same an hour later. Connor had shown Jesus the sophisticated room
called Hatchery months earlier, quelling Jesus' worries about Ephram
delivering a child in a place so far from the outside world. So it was an
only slightly worried Jesus that stood naked in a pool of warm water with a
naked Ephram in his arms as Ephram shouted and moaned as he brought Peter
Antonio Hoban into the world. And just beside him, Connor held Ion in his
arms as Ion laid nine gelatinous eggs containing distinct human embryos
within the clear sac into the water. Carefully, the medical specialists
supervising the Hatching, as this important event was called, scooped the
eggs out of the water where the embryos would be incubated in
carefully-regulated vats filled with artificial amniotic fluid until they
develop into recognizable humanoid infants several weeks later.

Unlike normal humans, however, Ephram and Ion would be so hormonally
charged by their delivery that they would require hard and long fucks to
steady their senses and breathing. Connor, knowing this very well by now,
had his erection long ready and pulsing to go, and as Ion collapsed in his
arms, he gave his prodigious erection a readying tug before plunging it
straight home into Ion. As Jesus watched in shock, unable to understand why
his father-in-law was fucking his lover before the son-in-law and his own
son, Connor growled at Jesus, "Fuck my son, Jesus, that's the only way to
get them back to normal fast!"

Ephram was breathing hard, as if he had difficulty in doing so. Without
hesitation, Jesus tugged at his cock, trying to make it hard. It wasn't
easy with his state of mind but he managed to have a half-mast ready in a
few minutes. He rammed it tenderly into Ephram, hoping that he could do the
job. He watched the couple beside him for a while, taking a second to
marvel at how Connor was driving his thick monster cock into Ion and
fucking the shit out of that man. His cock hardened at the erotic sight and
Jesus focused wholly on Ephram. Ephram's eyes opened and he moaned, not
really seeing Jesus in his chaotic state of mind. But he could certainly
feel Jesus' meat packing his ass as he arched his back and clawed at Jesus'
chest. Jesus began fucking his lover back to earth in steady, languid
thrusts. But their coupling soon became more and more savage as the two of
them lost themselves to the hunger, and soon they were making savage sounds
of pleasure that matched the guttural sounds of Connor and Ion fucking just
inches away from them.

Despite being in water, Ephram's anal passage was coated with mucus-like
material that functioned as lubrication, allowing Jesus to ram his cock
hard and deep again and again into the man without fear of hurting the
man. Ephram mewled and sobbed, unmistakably asking for Jesus to fuck him
harder as he gripped Jesus hard around the waist and sank his sharp teeth
into Jesus' shoulder. The violent splashes of the water in the pool blended
with the four lustily coupling men's harsh sounds of pleasure as both Ion
and Ephram spewed their creamy fluids into the water without reservation as
they climaxed again and again upon the powerful cocks of their lovers.
Connor grinned at Jesus and Jesus had an answering grin as they both
increased the speed of their blurring hips, their natural competitive
instinct kicking in and both men caught, without exchanging words, in an
innate contest to see who would last the longer while fucking the shit out
of their partners. But Ion gave one mighty clench of Connor's already
too-sensitized cock at the pivotal moment that Ephram came into a climax so
powerful that Jesus lost control watching his lover come so hard, however,
and soon Connor was shouting in ecstasy, joined by Jesus' harsh grunts of
pleasure, as both men came at the exact same time into the their respective
reasons for living.

"Next time," Jesus mouthed wordlessly to Connor.

"Bring it on," mouthed Connor back just as wordlessly as both men tried to
regain their breathing. There would be a next time, as both men knew
without a doubt that they had just successfully bred their lovers.