Date: Fri, 5 Dec 2003 17:32:20 -0800 (PST) From: Evan Bradely Subject: Chapter 5 of "The Crew" The following fictional story deals with sex among males. If you are offended by such material, are too young, or reside in a location where it is not allowed, please depart. Though not observed in this story, care enough about yourself and humankind to practice safe sex. The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent. EvanBradley33@Yahoo.com Chapter 5 Drew Nichols Construction Site After his night out at a Renegades baseball game with Max and Kenji, Hal had joined his men on the roof of the Haynes home the next morning. Levi Miller remembered his lover's plea to help him do something to resolve Hal's lonely state. So Levi popped off, "Hal, we're going to finish this roofing job today. After work, let's all go to Murphy's Gym to workout. Then we can grab something to eat together afterwards. Just a quiet little celebration. I think we've earned it." Ted shot his lover a grateful look. It wasn't lost on Levi, who winked at Ted. Max and even Kenji both jumped in, quite vocally agreeing with Levi. Before Hal could register the dog-pile dynamics, he had a unanimous vote for Levi's idea. He pondered the matter. Construction of the Haynes home was on target in terms of his timeline. And if the Russell Thomases insisted on a quick start to their home, he might have to push the guys to finish the Haynes home early. That might mean longer workdays, probably Saturdays too. That being the case, it was best to keep the guys' spirits up. He announced his approval of Levi's suggestion, though not with any enthusiasm, a reaction not unnoticed by the crew. Some of the crew probably guessed that Hal really wanted to shy away from a repeat of his last visit to the gym when he was overcome with memories of his failed relationships with so many of them. He observed brief, whispered exchanges throughout the day as one worker passed another. He decided they were sharing how much they were looking forward to leaving the hot roof for good and having an evening of fun together. He'd have likely been unhappy to hear how the guys were suggesting that they had to scout the gym for someone for Hal. None of them, including Hal, knew that the groundwork was already in place for that possibility. Murphy's Gym After they had piled out of the locker room and headed across the machines/weights floor, Hal scanned the large "machines" area. Yep, there he was - that little guy who'd showed up a week or so ago and had been checking Hal out. Upon sighting the fella, Hal felt his cock jerk in his jock and his balls tingle. 'What's up with that?' he asked himself. Hal liked this guy's compact, 5'8" body and blond hair. He wore thin-rim glasses, which made him look like a scholar. The very idea of dominating a scholar always put Hank on the bone - so much brainpower! And these guys were finally so grateful for the attention he gave them. That's why, when he was a college student, he often studied evenings in the university library, a magnet for scholarly students. They were so unlike the majority of men who had figured in his life. Usually, if he was going for a scholar, he wanted him small too. Hal believed his boning up over short guys related to his taking care of the younger guys in the orphanage. (He forced his mind to veer away from thoughts of small Richie Collins.) He knew he could dominate these little scholarly types. He especially liked it if they resisted his attention a little or were reserved or aloof. Hal would bet anything this little guy's eyes were blue, but he had never been close enough to check them out. One evening Hal had glimpsed the back of the guy as he was leaving through the lobby. He was still clad in his gym clothes with a suit and wrinkled white shirt with a tie looped over the shirt hanger slung over his shoulder. The guy had to have some kind of office job. 'Okay, so I have a suit and tie fetish,' Hal admitted to himself. He'd like to peel that little piece out of his suit and tie. He'd make him leave his dress socks on. He shivered a little at the prospect. He loved the sudden mental image of his plowing this guy with his navy blue dress socks-clad legs over Hal's shoulders. Again, he felt his cock twitch. So this little guy at Murphy's Gym had turned Hal's crank immediately. All short, little guys did that. That's why he'd happily bagged Kenji. Except sometimes he wondered if sly Kenji hadn't actually bagged him. He'd loved trying to break through Kenji's quiet, cool exterior, turning him into a whimpering cock slave. Even though Tonio was taller than Short Stuff or Kenji, Hal felt the same dynamics with Tonio. Hal loved breaking through that Hispanic, macho "don't-touch-my-ass" facade. He knew this behavior was a sham when Tonio changed in the locker room. He was always wearing a brightly colored thong! 'That man is proud of his ass,' Hal thought, 'and he wants someone to take it.' Hal had. With an uncharacteristic S&M twist, he'd made Tonio babble out his longing for Hal's 8-inch dick, forcing him to beg over and over to have it jammed up his quivering asshole. Funny thing was, the more Hal dominated these smaller guys, they more tender and loving he was with them after they'd both climaxed. He felt toward them almost as one might toward a childhood pet, all comfortable, warm, and accepting. All he had to do with Tonio now was cock his heavy, black eyebrows and Tonio was on him like flies on honey. He didn't do that often because he knew Tonio beat up on himself mentally afterwards. Hal shook his head, wondering how long it would take Tonio to get his head straightened out about his sexuality. It wasn't unusual then for Hal to wonder about this new little guy - Short Stuff, he had decided to call him, to wonder what his story was. Hal stole looks at Short Stuff, catching quick, intense looks at the guys working out together. When someone got a contest going, the little guy, working on a StairMaster, started moving his arms, legs and body in sympathy as though he were in the contest too. At other times when the air was thick with suspense, the little guy's workout slowed until he was standing still, staring at them just like a little boy watching older boys at play, hoping for an invitation to join them. Several times Hal almost cracked up at how mesmerized Short Stuff became. Then the little guy would jump back into his routine or, realizing that his attentiveness had been detected, would scoot off somewhere else in the gym. Once Hal saw him on the indoor track. Drew Nichols Drew couldn't believe that he'd caved - and so quickly at that! He'd been too cautious, careful, and fearful all his life. If he didn't guard himself by keeping himself apart, men would tip to the fact that he was gay. Still, as deep in the closet as he was, Drew had broken through his reservations and joined Murphy's Gym. Investing in some exercise equipment some years earlier, he had worked out at home because it was safe. He wasn't in the best shape possible, but he experienced some pride that he could produce results on his own. And he was close enough to his ideal weight so that a couple of week's worth of working out showed results fairly quickly. That spring, his corporate employer had announced an exercise competition to push employees to healthier living through regular pattern of exercise - with a reward of extra vacation hours thrown in for those who met their goals. The corporation's senior officers had watched with growing concern as the number of "sick days" and leave days employees claimed climbed over a period of two years. So Drew knew they were really looking out for the bottom line. As a "newer" employee, Drew never compiled all that many vacation hours in the first place for he hadn't accumulated ten years with his "tight-fisted" corporate employer yet. He was constantly fighting to hang onto his meager total. At the same time, he couldn't resist the need to take a day or two just to stay home and recharge his batteries since he loved the experience of his own space and the quiet away from everything else. For most of the past year, workaholic Drew had put in long hours at his job and then taken work home. As a consequence, he'd fallen out of his workout routine. The bathroom scales slowly but inexorably recorded the arrival of extra pounds, and his slacks felt tighter around his waist, announcing the price he was paying. Too much restaurant food and no exercise amid all the travel to branch and regional offices that his job required. Too many fast-food meals at home in the evening so that he could jump right back into work or collapse in bed, weary from his usually intense pace but happy that he had met a goal. Drew had decided that for once in his life, he needed to see what he could do about getting in the best shape possible. So he jumped at the bait of a promotional offer he'd seen in the Sunday newspaper for anyone joining Murphy's Gym. To be honest, a gym membership made his budget tight, but in only a short time working out at the gym, he'd had glimmers that it was a good move. Drew had been going to Murphy's in the late afternoon after work for about a week when he noticed them - a group he'd come to think of as "The Crew," eight guys of assorted sizes and body shapes who always worked out together. They all looked hot and fit. Drew could tell that there was something more than the need to workout that sparked their camaraderie. They would hug on occasion, slap each other's butt or squeeze a shoulder after completion of a set. He had even noted a couple of surreptitious gropes of crotches from time to time. Made him hot. Conversation was constant as they waited their turn on a machine or the weights. These guys clearly liked each other's company. No one took off to do his own thing elsewhere on one of the four floors of the huge gym. They also knew about where each one was in his workout goals, so fairly quickly Drew could tell when one of them was pushing his record. They would all gather around, encouraging him to exceed his mark. Yeah, Drew could tell that's what they were - buddies, a crew of buddies. He envied them. If Drew weren't careful, his own workout would come to a full stop as he watched one of them climb to victory. Even worse, he realized later, he would struggle in sympathy, leaning forward or pushing hard with his arms or legs, assisting the guy in meeting his goal. He was embarrassed: he did the same thing in the action movies he liked. That's why he always sat alone and far from others in the theatre - in the last row if he could manage it. He was so skilled in suspending his disbelief that his shoulders and arms made little movements or he would jump in his seat, mimicking what he was watching on the screen. It came from years of voracious reading of fiction. He SO vicariously experienced what was happening that he could never view a movie like "Jaws." It affected him too much: a shark chomping on people, not to mention kids, was more than he could handle. It haunted him if he didn't guard himself. 'Totally pathetic,' he thought. 'How much of my life has been spent guarding myself?' Then he'd shake his head in resignation. When the crew's competitions at the gym caught Drew up in their drama, he would eventually jolt back to his own present, quickly continuing his routine, looking around carefully to see if anyone noticed. If anyone caught him out of control, he would immediately move somewhere else in the gym, maybe to the steam room if he had completed his workout. Or to the indoor track if he hadn't. Just someplace where he couldn't be seen again. One evening in his fourth week at the gym, working out on a FasTrac, Drew was watching the crew. They had been absent the last couple of times Drew had come to Murphy's. The tall, built, devilishly handsome, broad-shouldered leader, whom Drew had nicknamed "Big Boy" after noticing him walking by the machines a few weeks earlier, was spotting a slighter, dishy guy in the group. He looked like a baseball player. Drew didn't even have to crank up his imagination to see this guy in a uniform and ball cap. Drew had already figured out that Big Boy was the group's center. They all focused on him, played to him, listened to him although he never seemed to expect or demand it. He had to be a natural leader. When something good happened in their workouts, they looked to him first for their reward. It might come in a form as simple as a few words, a smile, a look, a hand squeeze on their neck or biceps, a butt slap. Drew suspected the reward took the form of whatever Big Boy deemed his buddy needed, for Drew began to attend to the chemistry ensuing between Big Boy and his buddy after the reward was delivered. The men's reactions to the rewards were varied, but he could see in their eyes at the moment of delivery or later that they were turned on because of it. If Big Boy was pushing for a record of his own, their attention to his exertions bordered on worship. After his success, they all milled around him in a circle, touching him in some manner or other as though they were drawing some of his strength. Drew was in awe. He'd never felt that way about anyone. Even more, he'd never been a member of such a group. On this evening, Big Boy was bending down, whispering to Dishy as he was in the middle of a set. Suddenly, Big Boy leaned over and swiped his tongue across the dish's lips. Drew about fell off the FasTrac! The dish almost dropped the weights! But he liked the tonguing, for when he'd righted the weights, he swiped back with his own tongue, sending Big Boy off into chuckles. Drew's dick had immediately started to harden when the saw the two guys lick each other, causing him to look another direction quickly. He just missed Big Boy's slight turn of his head to check if Drew had seen the tongue action. Drew quickly retreated to the StairMaster farther away from the crew, telling himself that he wanted to build his butt up. But he knew he'd moved there because he'd reacted to Big Boy and Dishy's exchange. He'd immediately swiped his tongue across his own lips as though he could taste Big Boy there. Then he realized that he'd done it again - become a silly little voyeur. So he had to retreat. But on the StairMaster, he could still watch the crew. He didn't look at them right away. Rather, he jumped into a daydream about what it would be like to be a member of the crew. He smiled as his fantasy generator kicked in big time, creating a hot scenario between Big Boy and him. Finally, he couldn't stand it. He glanced at the crew. The group didn't seem to be quite as numerous as it was a few minutes ago. Drew continued to climb away on the StairMaster, admiring the gym studs' pumped muscles, wondering what he would have to change to develop muscles like some of them sported. He couldn't even imagine how. "Like that eye candy?" he heard a deep voice just behind him. He was so startled that he whirled about, nearly throwing himself backwards off the machine. Big hands reached out to grab him about his waist, lifting him as though he were a piece of balsa wood, followed by a loud "Whoa, there, fella." "Huh," Drew responded, his line of sight just below a pair of hot pecs, his cock swelling at the feel of those strong hands around his waist. Surely he was imagining that the fingers on those big hands were slowly kneading the muscles in his sides and at the top of his hips. His eyes rose, up and up and up, over the mounded pecs covered in a faded blue tank top; up through the heavy black pelt rising from the scooped neckline to the throat; up into the strong chin; the square jaw; the full, curved lips; the sculpted nose; into the man's piercing, laughing brown eyes; into the depths of which he fell. He gasped, followed by a hard blush on his face. "Skittery little critter, aren't you?" the man asked. Drew stared back dumbly, his thinking processes brought to a halt. The man righted Drew's body on the machine. "Light too. How much do you weigh?" It took some seconds for the question to register. "A hundred and thirty-five pounds," Drew answered quietly. Big Boy laughed. "I press more than that." Tossing his head slightly in reaction, Drew wasn't certain what the import of that statement was, but it was hardly complimentary to him. The big man noted the flash in Short Stuff's eyes and head movement, stifling a grin. 'This is going to be good,' he thought to himself. He'd already noticed when he approached this little guy that his cock grew harder with each step. The man removed his big hands from Drew's waist. "I was asking if those guys are eye candy for you?" the man repeated. Drew continued to stare, his mind kicking in only by slow starts. "You don't want to look like them, you know." "Oh?" Drew managed to croak out. "You don't want a body like those," the man repeated, smiling, enjoying Drew's discomfort due to the effect the man was having on him. "I don't?" Drew asked a little breathlessly, a detail not missed by the big man. "A little guy like you would look like a freak with muscles like those." At this point, Rich, who'd been licked by Hal, and Ted and Max had alerted the members of the crew to Hal's conversation with a little guy on a StairMaster across the room from them. They were elated that Hal had been attracted to the little guy enough that he'd sought him out. They were excited to see Hal standing there with his hands around the fella's waist. "Hey, Hal, way to go," Tonio encouraged softly. Jamal snapped his fingers and moved his feet and body in a rap rhythm, softly intoning "Heat Baby, heat. Grab that meat!" sending the others into chuckles. "It must be that size thing Hal feels about some guys," Rich observed. "Who cares?" Max asked. "As long as he's attracted to someone." He realized with a pang of conscience, that the "size thing," among other attributes, had resulted in his being attracted to Kenji. "Think we can draw the little guy into our group?" Ted had asked. "We have to," Kenji said softly, but his comment was still heard by the others, some of whom shook their heads in agreement. Back at the StairMaster, Drew gulped at the man's suggestion that he shouldn't want to look like a hunk. He felt a fool. He HAD to do something to regain standing he felt he'd lost after the man's remark. Drew popped off, "So in your world, guys like me never get to look as good as guys like you?" The big man's smile increased. He enjoyed the hint of sassiness in the smaller guy's comeback. "Who said you didn't look good?" Hal shot back, a smile bending his curved lips briefly. "Oh, and thanks for the compliment. Nice to know you think I look good." Drew blushed, cursing himself for setting Big Boy up for a clever come-back. "I like your little bod. It's hot," the big man added. Again, Drew's mind was overloaded with impressions, alarms and impulses to flee. But he knew he'd never let a big guy get the best of him. "What do you mean 'little bod?'" Drew asked, pitching attitude. Hal threw his head back in a laugh, noted happily by the crew. Drew looked nervously about to see if anyone was watching. Damn! The entire crew was turned toward them, not letting a gesture miss their scrutiny, trading comments about what they were observing. Probably making fun of him. Again, Drew's face flamed with embarrassment. He could just guess what they were saying about him. "Little shrimp" or something like that. Hal's big hairy arm shot his big mitt out at Drew for a shake. Drew flinched, moving back, prompting a slight frown from the big man. "Hal Winston," he intoned. Drew looked back at Hal, then at the group, then back to Hal. The minute Hal closed his big hand around Drew's, he felt its smaller bones, surprising wiry strength and warmth, which set off a line of tingles leading to his dick and balls. A little groan escaped from Drew, firing a strange light in Hal's eyes. Drew berated himself for seeming to have no control over himself. Drew stammered his name, having to correct himself twice. Hal grinned even more, noting the effect he was having on Drew. Drew made the mistake of studying that light in Hal's eyes, trying to interpret its meaning, significance, not realizing that they had stopped shaking hands but that he hadn't removed his hand from Hal's hammy grip. Hal started grinning again. He was loving the effect he had on Drew. "How about we take my hand over there to introduce you to my buddies. You can join our group," he said, nodding toward the crew. "Huh," Drew responded with surprise, jerking his hand out of Hal's as though someone had filled the palm of his hand with hot coals. "Come on over, let me introduce you. Work out with us." Hal was taken aback by the look of fear that moved over Drew's face. "Oh . . . uh . . . I have to leave," Drew stammered, leaping off the StairMaster, stumbling a little, cursing softly, grabbing his towel, and literally fleeing toward the locker room. "What the hell . . .?" Hal uttered, watching Drew's nice little ass jiggle a little as he ran away. 'Wonder what's happened to that guy - Drew, was it?' he asked himself. 'We're not intimidating.' Finally, he shrugged his shoulders, moving back to his buddies. "A candidate?' Tonio asked, leering at Hal. "A guy named Drew Nichols," Hal replied simply. "Don't see you strike out often," Max added with a challenge implicit in his remark. Hal's chin shot back as his face screwed up in a question, implying 'What the hell do you mean by that?' Max knew exactly what he was doing, knew how competitive Hal could be - even when he was courting a male for his bed. He'd just fired a shot across the bow of Hal's ship. He knew Hal would "rise" to the challenge. He'd probably already done so when he was holding the little guy up by his waist. Clever Rich picked up Max's stratagem. "I guess you're not his type," he observed to Hal. "Probably serves a master in his crib," Jamal added. Now that everyone's attention was focused on Hal, Max grinned. "I bet you can't bed that guy in the next two weeks," he challenged, intentionally goading Hal into his conquest mode. Kenji looked at Max, his brows knit. He knew what Max was doing, but it could backfire, sending Hal into a deeper funk if the stranger rejected Hal's advances. After all, what did they know about this guy? Maybe he was a married with a family. It HAD looked like the guy had run away from Hal. "Me too," Levi added, causing Ted to shoot him a look. "How much?" Hal replied. "A hundred dollars," Max answered, grinning in a superior, know-it-all manner. "Me too," Levi added, knowing that it would only push Hal the harder to connect with the stranger. "You're on," Hal shot back. The die had been cast. (To be continued.)