Copyright © 2003

By Lee Mariner

The author's copyright and all provision of the original disclaimer remain in force.  All Rights are reserved.

This is a gay fantasy containing homosexual acts.  If you are not of legal age in your locality to be reading this story or should you not approve of such material, please leave.

My friend, Dean, continues to be my right hand by editing my work.  His invaluable assistance is greatly appreciated.

All of my stories can be found in the Nifty Archives listing of Prolific Author's or by using the following link:


Readers wishing to be notified of future episodes to this and other stories, can contact me at:


Chapter #26

A loud clap of thunder followed by a flash of lightening that lit the room and then another clap of thunder woke me. My arms automatically reacted to the suddenness of being woken by holding Derek closer.   He whimpered lightly in his sleep and snuggled closer without waking up.   The thunderstorm raging outside continued for a few minutes with less violent flashes of lightening or loud thunder as the storm moved away.  The storm and the sound of rain beating on the roof reminded me of stories my mother had told Paul and me when we were kids.  She told us stories about the mythical gods, who beat thunderbolts into shape on their anvils, and then threw them across the dark skies, splitting open the dark clouds that held the rain.   She told us stories about how thunder was created by gnomes rolling bowling balls across the sky and striking ten pins.  We knew they were just stories and that she was telling them to us to calm our fears; but it gave us a chance to snuggle close to her, to smell the fragrance of the lavender scent she used and to feel her protective arms around us.

A feeling of warmth spread over me as Derek held onto me, the softness of his breath flowing over my chest.  Breathing in deeply, I could smelling the odor from the herbal shampoo he had used when we had showered; and I nuzzled the softness of his hair with my nose while I gently stroked the satiny softness of his shoulder.  Thoughts of how upset he had been earlier drifted in my mind; and, as the steady beating of the rain on the roof lulled me back to sleep, I whispered softly, "I'll always protect you against the storms".


I could hear the rain still falling when Derek shook me awake, exclaiming like a little boy,  "Boy, did you hear it storming last night?  When we were kids, Charlene used to run into my room and jump into bed with me when it stormed at night; and it wouldn't be long before Beca came in.  She knew we didn't like storms, and she would sit on the bed and hold us until it passed.  I always felt better when she held me; now I've got you to hold me when it storms," he said softly, lowering his lips to mine in a long lingering kiss.

When our lips parted, he hovered over me, his soft silky hair rumpled and his soft blue eyes glowed.  I felt like rolling over on top of him, but the urgency of nature's call prevented any love making regardless of how much either of us might have wanted to.  I rolled out of bed, exclaiming, "I gotta go, Kid, before it rains inside as well as out."

He followed me laughing, and I noticed his cock was just as stiff as mine.  We joined at the toilet, sighing as twin golden streams stirred the water to froth.  "Larry, do you think if we didn't drink anything before going to bed that we wouldn't have to do this first thing in the morning?" he asked, grinning as he milked the last drops from his half-hard cock.

It might make our need less urgent, Lover," I answered, milking my cock and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"We should start doing it then," he said coyly with a twinkle in his eyes as he turned toward me and started to slip his arm around my waist.

"Oh no, D, you can't be so horny, not after last night," I groaned, twisting out of his grasp.  "We have to clean up, get dressed and then, before we do anything, call Mr. Masters to see what is so important."

"I know that, but you are so damned sexy in the mornings," he said softly as he gently pushed me backwards.  The look of love and lust that I saw in the depths of his eyes rendered me powerless as he put both hands on the wall and trapped me against the sink,  any resolve to resist slowly draining away from me.

I felt the heat radiating from his hard muscled body as he leaned against me, our hard cocks squeezed between us.  The deep indigo blue of his eyes glistened with passion; and, smiling impishly, he started to slowly gyrate his hips grinding our cocks together.  Pressing his lips to mine, his tongue pushed, demanding entry; and, moaning softly, I opened my lips, succumbing to the passions building between us.

Wave after wave of desire swept over us; and I put my arms around him, moaning softly into his mouth as I massaged the rippling muscles of his back.  He increased the tempo of his gyrating hips igniting a fire deep in my loins; and, leaning my head back and pulling our lips apart, I said weakly, "Let's get back in bed, D."

"Ugh ugh," he grinned, breathing in deeply as he pushed away from the wall, his eyes glistening.  "I've got a better idea." he murmured, rubbing my chest and sliding his hands over my ribs as he slowly knelt before me. 

Sucking air into my lungs, I started to protest until I felt his lips touch the head of my cum oozing cock; and I gasped, my muscles tightening at the intense feeling of his lips sliding over its blood engorged head and of his tongue lapping the thick flow of pre-cum.   "Oh, Jesus, D," I moaned, my hips involuntarily thrusting my throbbing cock into his mouth.  He gagged when the thrust of my hips pushed my cock against the entrance to his throat; but, when I started to withdraw, he clamped his lips tightly.  Sharp pangs of ecstasy shot through me as his tongue washed around the half-length of my cock that was in his mouth, and I felt the sperm churning in my balls.  When he relaxed his lips and started to withdraw, I felt the desire to fuck his mouth envelope me; and, leaning forward, I held his head as my hips automatically started a slow piston movement driving my cock in and out of his mouth while he sucked.

We drifted in a euphoric haze of lust, his sucking mouth drawing the aphrodisiac he craved from my balls while, kneeling between my trembling legs, he jerked off, his muscles straining to reach the ultimate pinnacle of pleasure.   Time stood still in the brief inimitable moment before ejaculation, an eternal amatory feeling generated by the need to satisfy each other's need to copulate, to join together. As waves of ecstasy crashed over us, I could feel the moans emanating from deep in his diaphragm signaling his impending climax; and I groaned, my back arching as my swelling, hardening cock erupted spewing thick streams of sperm into his mouth.  Swallowing greedily, he moaned quietly as each spasm of my throbbing cock filled his mouth.  I felt the hot stickiness of his sperm spewing over my legs while he kneaded my contracting balls with his free hand as he drained the last drops of nectar from my wilting cock before it  slipped from between his lips.

Derek rested his head against my stomach for a second before standing up and smiling impishly, his eyes a soft azure blue. When I reached for him, he leaned against me and slid his arms around my neck. I felt the stickiness of his soft cock pressing against mine, and I whispered, "You're a devil," as our lips met.  Rolling my tongue over his and around the soft flesh of his mouth, I tasted the bitter-sweet remnants of sperm; and I squeezed him tightly to me as we kissed.  His eyes shone brightly as our lips parted; and, kissing me on the nose, he put his arms around me as he lay his head on my shoulder.  We held each other for several minutes, breathing easily and relaxing, the slow beat of our hearts merging, becoming one between us.


 "Larry, do you want to get something to eat before we call Masters?" Derek called from inside the shower as I shaved.

"It might be a good idea, D," I answered. "We might be at his office through lunch, and I don't think I can make it until supper if we don't have something to eat."

"Then that's what we will do; and,...," he replied, hesitating as he slid the shower curtain back and reached for a towel before continuing, "...after we leave there if we have time, we can call the lady architect Mr. Carlson recommended to your dad."

"That sounds like a plan to me, D," I said, watching in the mirror as he dried his magnificently muscled body.  It was fascinating to see how his muscles rippled as he briskly rubbed down with the thick terry-cloth towel, his flaccid cock flopping from side to side as he dried his crotch and the inside of his thighs. 

Glancing into the mirror as he straightened up from drying his calves, he winked and said, "you'll cut your throat if you're not careful."

"Then move away from the shower,"  I said, grinning back at him in the mirror.

"Okay," he answered, throwing the towel over his shoulder and moving up behind me, his soft cock pressing against the crack of my ass as he kissed the nape of my neck.

A salacious shiver went through me at the feel of his cock touching my ass, and my cock surged; but, grinning at me in the mirror, he turned and went into the bedroom.

"You're a fucking tease, Derek Kingsley," I called after him.

"And you love it," he answered, laughing impishly.

"He's right," I thought to myself as I resumed shaving.  "I love the mellifluous sound of his voice, the way he plays and the sincerity in the way he looks at me."


While I was dressing after taking my shower, the delicious aroma of fresh coffee drifted into the room followed by Derek carrying two mugs.  He was fully dressed; and his eyes twinkled as he said, "I thought you might need a little plasma after the morning's exercises."

"Jesus, D, you're a life saver," I exclaimed, dropping my shoe and taking the mug from his hand but not missing the subtle reference to our sexual interlude.

"I've never been much of a coffee drinker, Larry, at least not until we met," he said, sitting in the single bedroom chair.

"I never was either until after I graduated and started working," I replied, taking a sip from the steaming mug.  "Most of the guys at work drink it, and it does give me a lift."

"At home, Beca would always fuss that I should drink milk instead of coffee or tea; but, my dad drank coffee in the mornings before he left for his office."

"My dad's the same way," I said, setting the hot mug on the night-table while I finished dressing.

Derek watched, silently sipping his coffee until I stood up and smoothed my shirt by running my hands over my chest and down into my trousers waistband.

"You look pretty good for an old man," he giggled playfully, his eyes twinkling.

"Just don't forget how much this 'old man' loves you and that it wasn't an old man you made love to a few minutes ago," I said, grinning at him as he stood and placed his mug next to mine before sliding his arms under mine and around my chest.

 Pulling me to him he whispered.  "How could I?"

His lips were soft and the lingering taste of Colgate was sweet.  There was no lust or passion, just a kiss that conveyed the feeling of the bond that continued to grow between us.


Dad's car was gone from its usual parking place; and, when I started the truck, I looked quickly at Mom's kitchen window half expecting her head to pop up.  When she didn't make an appearance, I glanced at Derek and winked as I backed out and started down the drive.

We stopped for a quick breakfast at Tony's diner and then drove to Dad's service station so Derek could call Mr. Masters.  When I pulled onto the lot and parked beside his office, he came out and walked toward the truck.

"What brings you guys here?"  he asked.  "Your mother said you were going to the bank to see Mr. Masters."

"We're going there now, Dad," I answered as we got out of the truck.  "But we got a late start, and Derek hasn't called him yet."

"Use the phone in the office, Derek," Dad said, glancing at the pumps to see whether Morgan was taking care of the car that had pulled in, before turning to me.  "Did your Mother give you the business card for Mrs. Rowe, the architect that Fred Carlson recommended?"

"Yes, Sir," I answered.  "She gave it to us last night after we got in."

"I told her she could give it to you this morning, but you know how she worries; she was afraid she'd miss you."

"We hadn't gone to bed yet, Dad; so it was all right," I replied. "We're going to call Mrs. Rowe after we see what Mr. Masters wants Derek for."

"Your mother talked with him yesterday afternoon; but, he apparently didn't tell her very much."  He said as Derek joined us.

"He didn't tell me much either, Uncle Chris except that Mr. Winters would be there, and that we should be there by eleven o'clock.  That doesn't leave us much time, Larry," Derek said, glancing at his wristwatch.

"Then we had better be going," I said glancing at my father as I opened the truck door.

"Well..., I hope it's nothing serious; but, if Merrill is going to be there, you be sure and listen to him, Derek;  he'll know what to do," he replied, looking through the window at Derek as he spoke.

"Everything will be all right, Uncle Chris.  I told Mr. Winters everything that Mr. Masters told us, so I'm not worried," Derek said.

"Good," Dad said, reaching through the window and patting my shoulder before moving back from the truck.


Catherine, Mr. Masters' secretary, saw us as we entered the bank.  She looked as crisp and efficient as the first time we had met her; and she stood, smiling, as we approached her desk.

"Good morning," she said, "Mr. Masters is waiting for you. He has coffee and pastries in his office; but, if there is something else you would like, I can bring it in?"

"Thanks, Catherine; but I don't think so," Derek said glancing at me quickly before asking, "Is Mr. Winters inside with Mr. Masters?"

"Yes, he is," she answered, picking up her notepad and walking with us toward Masters' office door.

I opened the door and held it for her and Derek before following them in.  When Masters saw us entering the office, he stood up behind this desk, and said, "Good morning, Derek, Larry, you're right on time; have a seat. I think you know everyone, but maybe you would like something before we get started.  There is coffee on the bar, and I think we have left a few slices of apple crumble coffee cake that you might like."

Merrill Winters had stood up as Masters was speaking, but I didn't recognize the older man who was sitting next to Derek's father.  They both remained seated; but, when Derek's father turned and looked at us, Derek froze, glancing at me with fear in his eyes, his voice trembling as he said, "Dad."

"Easy, D," I whispered, looking at Merrill who had turned around to face Masters, asking angrily, "Didn't you tell Derek that his father was going to be here?"

"I..I'm sorry; but, under the circumstances," he stammered, "I didn't think it was advisable."

"You didn't think it was advisable," Merrill said glancing at us, with anger in his eyes. "After what has transpired between them, you didn't think he should have known?"

A dead silence fell over the room, and the tension that had developed in that brief instant could have been cut with a knife until Derek suddenly moved toward the group saying, "It's all right, Mr. Winters.  It surprised me for a moment, that's all.  How are you Dad?"

Derek's father sat stone faced, not answering until we were about to sit in the chairs Masters was indicating; whereupon, he said sarcastically, "I see you had to bring your faggot friend with you.  What's the matter, are you afraid to face me without him?"

The sarcasm and menacing tone in his voice hit me like a sledgehammer; and, feeling a surge of anger wash over me, I started to answer when Merrill spoke.

"Mr. Kingsley, that kind of talk will get us nowhere," he said icily.   "If you want to resolve the issues we are here about, I suggest you stop the insults and use a different tone of voice. Any other feelings you may harbor are totally irrelevant."

The, as yet unknown to me man sitting next to Derek's father leaned over and whispered something in his ear.  Kingsley glared at him for a brief moment before screaming out, "Why in the hell should I, the little faggot is trying to take what I've spent twenty years of my life building."

Kingsley's words dripped with venom; and, even though the anger was still boiling in my gut, Derek sat quietly looking at his father.  Looking at me, he reached for my hand; and, I saw the fire burning in the deep indigo blue of his eyes.  Squeezing my hand, he calmly said very clearly, "Dad, you can call me and Larry all the names you want, but there is an old saying, 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me'.  You went past that point last week, Dad; and you can't hurt me anymore than you already have."

"Why, you insolent little bastard, I'll...I'll...," he said stammering and was searching for even more malicious words when Merrill cut

"Mr. Kingsley," he said icily.  "Do you know what physical assault with the intent to do bodily harm is? If you don't, I suggest you ask Mr. Conklin, your attorney.  He will advise you that the assault that you perpetrated against your son amounts to a felony.  As Derek's  attorney, if Derek wants to file those charges against you, I'll be very happy to file them for him."

Derek's father sat glaring at us, his face crimson with rage.  Masters was sitting at his desk with a look of astonishment on his face; and Catherine, sitting behind him, was looking down at her notepad in an attempt to hide her obvious embarrassment.   There was nothing I could say that would have alleviated the anguish I was feeling that Derek was again being subjected to the malice of his father. 

For what seemed an eternity, everyone sat silently until Mr. Conklin cleared his throat and said, hesitantly, "Morrison, Mr. Winters is right; your anger with Derek is not appropriate, and we are not here to discuss your personal or moral differences with each other.   However, if what Mr. Winters has charged is true, I am advising you that what he has said, is correct.  You could be in a lot more trouble than what you have told me, and my firm is not prepared to represent you in a criminal court action."

"But...but, Charlie, he's trying to take my company from me," Derek's father wailed weakly, his earlier bluster draining away.

Merrill sat down where he had been sitting, next to Conklin; and, glancing at Derek and me, he gave us a sly wink and waited while Conklin talked with Derek's father.

"I think, Morrison, that you should be more concerned with what Derek can do than what you believe he is trying to do," Conklin said quietly.

"Charlie; don't you understand, that if he gets his sister and the bank to go along with this nonsense, I could lose everything; and that would be worse than going to jail," he answered, glaring at Masters.

"The bank does not make decisions based on emotions, Mr. Kingsley," Masters said calmly as he slid a sheet of paper across his desk. "Yesterday, your daughter faxed her proxy to us, giving Derek full control of her shares in any action he and the bank believes are in their best interests. After Derek was here and we had discussed the trust, I contacted her as an interested party since we still administer her trust in conjunction with Derek's. The bank's involvement are the conditions that Mrs. Worthington insisted on when she established the trust. You were well aware that, when Derek reached eighteen years of age, he legally, in concert with the bank, assumed control of the trust and that your control as a  trustee ceased at that time."

Merrill sat back in his chair while Conklin scanned the document that Masters had slid toward him.  When he had finished reading it, he inhaled deeply, exhaling as he glanced at Derek and then at his father.  "Morrison," he said in a conciliatory tone. "I've gone over your deceased mother-in-law's last will and testament, and the trust she set up for your daughter, Charlene, and Derek.  I'm afraid with Charlene's  proxy there is very little you can do unless you want to protest the contents of Mrs. Worthington's will in what could be a very expensive and protracted civil attempt to break the conditions she has set forth. Frankly Morrison, as your friend and attorney," he said looking quickly at Merrill as he spoke. "I don't recommend that you do that, but it's up to you." 

Derek's still somewhat defiant father said without looking at him, "No, I don't want that, Charlie; but, I can't believe my son and daughter would do this to their mother and me."

The only sound was Catherine's pencil furiously scribbling notes on her pad.  A feeling of apprehension had replaced my anger and when I glanced at Derek, I saw that the indigo blue shade in his eyes had changed to a soft azure blue.  I breathed a little easier until Merrill started to say something and then stopped when he saw Derek look at him pleadingly and then at his father.

"Dad," he said softly. " I never wanted it to come to this;  all I've ever wanted was for you to listen to me when I tried to tell you how I felt inside of me, but you were always too busy or were away on a business trip.  You had no time for me, Dad; but you had plenty of time to hold cocktail parties.  After you showed me off and bragged about everything that you had planned for my future , it was back to the kitchen with Rebecca and Henry. Out of sight and out of mind until the next party," Derek whispered, his voice quivering with emotion.

"Well, what in the hell did you expect," he exclaimed, glaring at Derek and then at me. "No man wants to hear his only son is a faggot. Christ, Derek, your mother and I will be the laughing stock of the country club."

There was an audible intake of breath by everyone at the viciousness of the outburst. Glancing at Derek, I could see the tears welling up in his eyes and I turned toward his father.  "Wait just a damn minute, Mr. Kingsley.   Derek doesn't deserve it, I don't deserve it and these people don't deserve hearing you spewing garbage.  You've been all over him ever since we got here and he hasn't said anything other than you wouldn't listen to him.  I was there that night, remember; I saw you kick him down the stairs, and I heard everything you called him.  It was my Mom and Dad who nursed the bruises from the beating you gave him, and you're damn lucky the police were not called that night.   So let's knock the crap off before I do something I'll regret," I said, clinching my fists and starting to stand up.

Merrill placed his hand on my arm; and, squeezing, he whispered, "Easy, Son, we all are a little upset; and I know how you feel, but we don't need that."

"Yes, Sir," I replied, settling back in my chair and breathing heavily as I tried to regain my composure.

"That's better," Merrill said to me as he leaned over and asked Derek if he were all right.

"I'm all right, Sir; but, Mr. Winters, I don't want my Dad going to prison or anything like that," Derek answered softly, looking down at his fingers.

"I can't blame you for that, Son; but, for now, both of you just relax and listen.  Don't say anything," he said softly as he stood up.

Moving to the end of Masters' desk, Merrill looked at a very flustered bank vice-president before turning to face Derek's father.

"Mr. Kingsley,  I thought you were more sensible than you seem to be; but it looks like I was wrong.  Derek has tried to tell you how he has felt, but you have ranted and raved about the morality of what he has tried to tell you.  All he has asked is that you listen, but you haven't heard a word he has said.  He hasn't mentioned anything about taking the company away from you, but you are obviously more concerned with that aspect of this meeting than his welfare.   Mr. Masters told you what the bank's obligations were under the terms of your mother-in-law's will and that the bank was still administering your daughter's trust in conjunction with Derek's.  You don't seem to understand that he was obligated to advise her of the change that relieved you of your trusteeship over the trust.  You obviously haven't heard any of that even after Charlie tried to explain where you stood,"  Merrill said, sitting down and breathing in deeply as he gazed at Derek's father, waiting for him to say something.

Derek's father sat quietly, looking at a spot on the wall.  Mr. Conklin, looked at him, turned and started to say something to Merrill; but he waved him off saying. "Charlie, I think I know what you are going to say; but we wanted to hear it from your client.  Since he doesn't seem to have anything to say..., Henry, where does the bank stand?"

"If you mean has the bank lost any money, the answer is, no, we haven't.   Our internal audit shows Derek's and Charlene's trusts are quite solvent. Fortunately, the shares of Worthington and Kingsley are only a small part of the overall worth of the trust," Mr. Masters answered, looking at Derek's father before adding, "As for any irregularities in the drawing accounts, I can't say.  We disbursed funds as requested by Mr. Kingsley, but that would be between Derek and Mr. Kingsley. The bank, however, does have complete records of all withdrawals that have been made; and copies of them along with a copy of our audit are in the packet we provided to you and Mr. Conklin."

"I know, Henry, I looked them over while we were waiting; and there are several large withdrawals that need explaining.  They seem to be more than what would normally be required unless they were used for purposes other than Derek's needs. Would you care to offer an explanation, Mr. Kingsley; or, if Derek agrees, I can ask for an audit of your personal and company finances," Merrill said, glancing at Derek.

"Mr. Winters, I don't care about the money," he said softly.  "Do what you think is necessary, as long as my Dad doesn't go to jail.  If that should happen, it would break my mother's heart and I couldn't stand that."

"Okay, Son," Merrill replied, squeezing Derek's shoulder and looking at his father. "I'll take care of it," he said, breathing in deeply.

I hesitated for a moment, looking at Derek and then I asked,  "Mr. Winters if you don't need us for anything else, I'd like to take Derek home."

"Go ahead, Larry, take him home.  We've done all we can do for now.  I'll call when everything is in order; and, if there is anything that needs his signature, you can come to my office," he said turning to Mr. Masters and Mr. Conklin to see if they had any objections.


The afternoon sun was low in the sky when we stepped outside of the bank.  When we got into the truck, Derek lay across the seat, with his head on my thigh. His body shook violently as he cried, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.  There was a huge lump in my throat as I felt the anguish he was feeling; and, stroking his hair, I said softly, "Let it all out, D."

It was several minutes before his sobs subsided and he sat up.  HIs soft blue eyes were red rimmed from crying; but he looked at me and said,  "Let's go home.