Date: Sun, 18 Apr 2021 04:57:13 -0400
From: Ulf Raynor <ulfr57@gmail.com>
Subject: Devil Dawg Donnelly's Part 32

Devil Dawg Donnelly's
Standard disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people
or actual events is purely coincidental.

You may contact the author at ulfr57@gmail.com All comments, suggestions
and/or observations are welcome if presented respectfully.

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Part Thirty Two:

"Atticus has done an admirable job setting up the training course don't you
think?" Carl McGregor noted, glancing over at Max Donnelly, who stood there
with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, his strong arms folded across
his broad chest, a near unreadable expression painted stoically across his
visage, with only his eyes betraying the pride he felt watching Billy push
himself for yet another pass through the course with Jason Dunne not far
behind him.

There were sixteen obstacles in total, interspersed throughout the field
off to the left side of the ceremonial grounds, typical in style and layout
to the ones most Marines train within boot camp.

Starting with the horizontal ladder overhead incline hand walk to the rope
climb and pit jump straight into a reverse incline climb to the twenty-foot
wall and rope climb, all before tackling the various log obstacles such as
the belly robber, the balance log run, and of course the island hoppers to
finally finish off with a vertical cargo net climb and the barbed wire
belly crawl to the finish.

It was Billy and Jason's eighth pass, two more than Atticus had the rest do
that day, in deference to the newbies just starting, six being standard for
new recruits with twelve full course runs, nonstop being the end goal.

Carl had observed the pride in Max's eyes as his youngest, JD had completed
his sixth pass, though the boy was obviously winded, he never faltered or
lagged behind, maintaining a center position in par with Atticus's trained
unit.

It was no surprise when Gavin had dropped out after only two passes,
struggling especially with the log course, but the biggest surprise of the
day, Billy and Jason notwithstanding, was Timmy. Despite his poorer showing
on the six-lap track run around the course before actually beginning the
course itself, he quickly made up for lost time, even keeping up with
Atticus's unit at times, especially shining in obstacles that required the
most dexterity and though it didn't seem to surprise Max at all, it left
Atticus and Jake both scratching there heads in wonder and bewilderment at
the young man's physical capabilities and the ease in which he learned and
mastered the course.

"Either my senses have faded with age.." Carl heard Marshal Griffen exclaim
to Danal, as they stood off to the side watching the unit's afternoon
training exercises: "But I do not sense the Heritage within that boy." he
concluded.

"He is not of the Heritage, that is true..." Danal posited, calmly stroking
the short hairs of his beard as he was want to do while deep in thought:
"But I think there is far more to him than meets the eye."

Carl noted the way Danal's voice trailed off but found himself thinking
much the same thing and mentally filing his concerns for later
conversations with both Danal and Max, returning his focus and attention
back to the two competitors still traversing the course and almost
completing their eighth pass without any sign of slowing down.

Both Billy and Jason had long ago shed their t-shirts and wore only their
grey sweatpants, their upper bodies wet and shiny with the proliferation of
sweat that now drenched the waistline fabric of the loose-fitting garments,
and though Billy maintained his lead on Jason, neither showed signs of
slowing down anytime soon and Max seemed content with allowing the duo to
push themselves to their limit.

Carl was almost relieved when Hank stepped forward stopping the two from
beginning a ninth pass of the training course, directing the pair toward
the rest of the group, where Jake and Atticus stuffed bottles of water into
their hands and instructing them to drink slowly and to join the rest of
the team as they began their cool down stretches before concluding the days
training.

As Atticus wound things to a close, Hank Bauers stepped forward, after a
nod from Max, and ordered everyone to gather in a large circle around him
and as everyone maneuvered themselves into position, Hank clapped his hands
together to get their attention before announcing: "Tomorrow will
officially begin the unit's hand to hand combat training..." Hank looked
around the circle of men and boys as they stared at him expectantly: "With
that in mind and because we have several new members joining your team I
think we'll end the day with a little demonstration.."

With that, Atticus called Rex Wilson front and center and then pointed to
Gavin Hollis to join him there, and as Gavin cautiously moved where
indicated, facing Rex, he couldn't help note the difference in both their
size and age.

Gavin was only seventeen and he estimated Rex at about twenty or
twenty-one, he was also taller than Gavin as well as a lot more muscular,
and while Gavin appreciated the dark, hirsute man in front of him, he
couldn't help but feel ever so slightly mismatched, looking at Hank with a
questioning, expectant grimace.

Hank clapped Gavin on the back, smiling profusely at the boy's trepidatious
glower before positioning the two in the standard start position, with
their arms extended, their hands clasping each other's biceps while leaning
toward, each of them with their feet planted shoulder-width apart.

"When I give the signal gentlemen your single goal here is to unbalance
your opponent and either land him flat on his back or face down in the
grass."

"Is that all?" Gavin whispered under his breath, noting how Rex gave him a
toothy cock-eyed grin and a quick wink with his left eye right before Hank
lowered his raised hand and shouted: "Begin!"

To say it was over before it began would have been an understatement as far
as Gavin was concerned, in the span of probably less than three seconds he
found himself staring up into the late afternoon sky as a ruggedly
handsome, dark-haired Rex Wilson looked down at him smiling even more
broadly than before as he unceremoniously pivoted sideways flipping Gavin
over his knee to land with a thud on his back.

Rex reached his hand down toward Gavin before gripping his forearm and
hauling him up to a standing position, leaning his head toward Gavin with
that big toothy cock-eyed grin again and whispered in Gavin's right ear as
his left hand squeezed Gavin's right butt cheek: "You smell real nice" and
winking at him flirtatiously as they parted.

Hank indicated to an embarrassed Gavin to take a seat as he called Timmy
Anderson forward, again aligning the two facing each, other arms locked: "I
want to remind everyone, this exercise deals more with leverage and balance
than it does with strength and size." Hank boomed, raising his arm into the
air, and with a nod from a grinning Max, he dropped it shouting once again
to "begin."

As before, Rex started to pivot but found Timmy had released his grip and
had rapidly shifted his weight downward using both gravity and momentum to
curl into a ball and roll quickly between Rex's splayed legs and before Rex
could swing around, Timmy's legs darted upward, the flat of his feet
planting firmly against Rex's buttocks and shoved him forward causing him
to lose his balance and stumble forward, giving Timmy enough time to spring
to his feet just as Rex turned to face him.

Before Rex could swing his arms up defensively, Timmy lept at him, the flat
of his feet striking him dead center to his chest with the full force of
his body weight knocking Rex flat on his ass as Timmy landed on top of him,
his thighs spread on either side of his torso and his ass planted firmly on
his chest.

The single clap of Max's hands broke the stunned silence as everyone began
congratulating Timmy for his unexpected win.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Atticus stepped forward and patted Timmy on
the back: "Great job their kid!" he exclaimed loudly, hoisting Timmy's
right hand into the air victoriously.

"Ahem, gentlemen..." Hank Bauers coughed loudly, interrupting the minor
celebration: "We ain't done yet... Billy... you're next."

The entire group fell instantly silent as all eyes fell on Billy as he
slowly rose and entered the circle to take his place.

To everyone's surprise, Hank indicated for Rex to take a seat as he
motioned for Billy and Timmy to face each other.

This time Max wasn't smiling as he studiously glowered at the two youths,
there was no forthcoming nod as Hank's arm lingered in the air momentarily
before slicing downward, accentuated by the sudden gasp of air from the
surrounding observers, mesmerized expectantly as all eye's locked on Billy,
expectant of his actions.

Carl knew instantly, when Hank called Billy's name, that Max had
pre-arranged this moment. Ever since Billy's arrival, Atticus and his
entire team's attention seemed to center solely on Billy, watching his
every move, expectantly talking in hushed whispers at every motion or
movement he made, and while he understood their motivations and
expectations, it wasn't going unnoticed by Billy and it was making him
seriously uncomfortable, self-conscious and nervous.

Blissfully unaware of his father's machinations, Billy responded
instinctively as Hank's hand dropped and he sprung into action, only to
find his actions thwarted as Timmy rapidly spun around evading Billy's
grasp on his arms as the spinning force of his body slammed into Billy's
chest.

It wasn't enough to knock Billy down or even through him off balance, but
it was an unexpected maneuver that bought Timmy enough time to accomplish
his next move, and with the grace of a ballet dancer and through his years
of strength training as a gymnast, Timmy shot upward, wrapped his calves
around Billy's chest as his torso flipped forward over Billy's head, his
hands planting firmly on Billy's broad shoulders as his locked legs slung
upward and forward with all his strength, pulling Billy off balance, before
releasing his leg hold to go into a full handstand on his shoulders,
dropping behind him as Timmy slipped his hands and arms downward to lock
under Billy's armpits, the lower body weight of his legs and torso forcing
Billy further off balance as he practically rolled backward over Timmy's
back until he landed face first in the grass with Timmy doing one more
quick backflip and landing feet first on Billy's upper back.

Everyone stared on in stunned silence, their mouths hanging open in awe as
Timmy took a bow before stepping off Billy's back.

"That...was... AWESOME!!!" JD shouted joyously, jumping to his feet
excitedly as he clicked stop on his cell phone camera, breaking the ominous
spell-like hush that had befallen the group before they started chanting
Timmy's name with a few ooh rahs thrown in for good measure: "And I got it
all on VIDEO!" JD concluded dancing around in circles as he hit repeat on
his phone to watch it again as others gathered around him to watch along.

Billy rolled over on his back, looking up at his Uncle Hank: "Okay...." He
sighed: "That hurt."

Hank reached down to assist Billy up as Billy began brushing the dirt and
grass from his sweaty torso and cocking his head side to side stretching
his sore shoulder and neck muscles.

"Sorry kiddo" Hank whispered in his ear: "Your dad has been having me
instruct Timmy in a few moves over the last week or so, he's got it in his
head Timmy's skills as a gymnast can be incorporated into a new fighting
style for the team." Hank slapped Billy on the back before declaring
happily: "If that was any indication, looks like he may be onto something
huh?!"

Billy chose to ignore the expanding grin on Hank's face as he lumbered back
over to Gavin, still rubbing his neck and shoulders and picking random
pieces of grass from his sweaty skin.

"Don't say a word!" He cautioned Gavin as he took his place by his side as
everyone around them continued to congratulate Timmy as his little brother
took great pride in repeatedly showing everyone the video of his defeat
over and over again.

"Look at it this way dude..." Gavin offered solemnly: "At least they aren't
all staring at you all creepy like anymore."

Billy offered his friend a faint smile as Atticus, their team leader,
ordered everyone to head back to base camp, and as they shuffled toward the
path back to the Lodge and the lake, Billy jabbed Gavin in the ribs lightly
with his elbow and nodding his head to his left, directing Gavin's
attention in that direction: "They may not all be staring at me right now,
but someone sure seems keenly interested in one of us and I don't think
it's me."

Gavin glanced over in the direction Billy's head nodded and his eyes
instantly met Rex Wilson's, whose sultry dark stare and cocky half-grin
beamed flirtatiously back at Gavin before bursting into laughter as Gavin's
face flushed red with both excitement and embarrassment making him wish he
could just turn invisible as he forced himself to look away: "I don't think
I'm going to be able to handle a whole month of this dude..." he stammered
meekly in Billy's direction.

"Month?!" Billy said sardonically before stating stoically: "I don't think
we're gonna survive the week at this rate."

Gavin smiled halfheartedly back at him, nudging Billy slightly: "Ya know
Billy, I think we both have had a perfectly wonderful day.." Gavin posited,
adding: "Unfortunately, that day just wasn't today!"


                                                                          *****


He didn't know how long he had been lying there on the wooden shed floor
that normally housed several canoes and Adirondack chairs down by the lake,
but if he had to hazard a guess, it would have measured in hours. More
importantly though, the thick, fat cock relentlessly pounding his mouth and
throat was yet again spewing another massive load of hot jizz down his
throat for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

Hours ago, when this all began and Atticus had blindfolded and handcuffed
him and led him here, he had assumed the plump juicy dick invading his
mouth was that of his new lover Atticus Walker, but shortly after hearing
the door to the shed open and shut again and he felt the strong hands of
the man behind this ever hard cock shoving its way down his throat, he had
quickly realized that it didn't belong to the man he was mated too.

While he had nothing to substantiate who the owner of that cock was he did
have his suspicions and if it was who he thought it, he wasn't at all
displeased with his mate's selection, but couldn't help wondering why he
had done so in the first place; he didn't figure Atticus as the sharing
type, not that he was complaining, the rock hard phallus pummeling his oral
cavity, though challenging to manage due to its tremendous girth, was still
quite tasty, and even though his throat was getting quite sore and his lips
now felt swollen from all the sucking and constant pounding thrust and hip
grinding jabs, it hadn't deterred him from enjoying the copious amounts of
sperm and semen that it had ejaculated down his gullet.

He had thought his mate the most virile man to date to pump cum into him,
but this stallion was beyond the pale. Brock had lost count, hours ago, of
the number of orgasms he was being forced to ingest and gulp down and
couldn't help having a comic mental image of himself with a huge bloated
belly from extremely fertile emissions spewed tirelessly straight down his
aching, overstretched esophagus, to fill and engorge his stomach.

All afternoon, his one major thought was how could one man produce so much
cum, each and every orgasm was a barrage of thick ropy strands of potent,
manly juices, that shot from the burgeoning, palpitating head of his
engorged member like a spewing fire-hose of raw masculinity.

If he had to hazard a guess, he was certain each volcanic like eruption
would be best measured by shot glasses than a teaspoon or tablespoon sizes,
coupled with the fact that each orgasm fucked down his throat and filling
every available space of his mouth was as voluminous as the first, it was
easy for him to picture the full rounded belly that jiggled like a bowl
full of jello he imagined as he greedily sucked and slurped down each
delicious drop like he was doing right now as the wiry, spit-soaked pubes
of his oral assailant ground against his swollen, nearly raw bloated lips.

It was during this latest orgasmic feeding that he heard the shed door open
again and the shuffling steps of a third party entered the space they
occupied.

For the first time in hours, he felt the hefty, chunky schlong slip past
his lips extricating itself fully from his mouth as it withdrew out of his
reach.

He heard the rustle of clothing as someone dressed while strong hands
fumbled with the lock of the handcuffs that had bound his wrist behind his
back all this time.

Those same large hands lifted him effortlessly from his supine position on
the floor, to prop him up as his wobbly legs adjusted to the renewed weight
of his previously confined and immobile body.

He rubbed his aching wrist in his own hands as the ones that had just
released him lifted the blindfold from his eyes to reveal the smiling face
of his mate Atticus Walker.

"Did you enjoy my little gift today?" he cooed, running his large thick
fingers through Brock's sweaty hair with one hand while he drew him close
against his massive, hairy, sweaty body with the other before running his
hand down his back to squeeze the left cheek of his buttocks, like a baker
kneading bread dough.

Brock had to cough several times to clear his throat before he could make
any form of articulate sound and even then sounding like someone who had
smoked heavily for decades.

"Your idea of little and mine are two completely different units of
measurement." he finally managed to utter in a hoarse and raspy tone as he
pivoted his torso to look around the hirsute giant blocking his view to
gaze into the eyes of a very satisfied looking Barin Young, whose lips
parted into a cocky half toothy grin, still adjusting his PT silkies in an
attempt to contain his still bloated semi-erection.

"You didn't answer my question" Atticus persisted, moving in closer to
Brock, his large sweaty body coming into contact with Brock's, both hands
now clutching his bubble butt by both cheeks, and grinding their groins
together.

Brock locked eyes with him, staring deeply into his mischievous gaze: "That
depends, was it a one-time favor, or is he a gift that I can keep and enjoy
whenever I want to?"

Atticus brought his forehead forward to press against Brock's, so close his
hot breath warmed the skin of his already flushed face and he could feel
the sweat from his mate's forehead mingle with his own and drip like tears
down his cheeks: "Which would you prefer?" Atticus responded in a low
guttural growl.

Brock smiled lecherously, stating: "It's not a gift if it's just on loan, a
gift is something that belongs to you forever."

Atticus pulled his head back to lock eyes with him again, a somewhat
serious expression crossing his face: "I can't promise he will be a
permanent gift because I don't know what the future holds for us, but he is
yours to use as long as he is able..." He paused for a second, turning his
head to exchange a grin with Barin: "Rest assured though, he is very
interested and enthusiastic in providing whatever services you may require
of him, for however long that may be."

Barin winked at Brock, the cocky toothy grin broadening, practically
consuming his ruggedly handsome features: "I aim to please." he chuckled in
his throaty Texas twang, tipping his head in Brock's direction, eyes
twinkly lustfully.

It was at that moment Atticus's stomach rumbled and as he rubbed his hairy
belly suggestively, announcing that they all should go get something to eat
and perhaps discuss this further after they fill their bellies.

Brock chortled as he looked down at his own: "Truthfully, I'm feelin'
rather full right now, but after the last few hours, I'm sure a certain
someone must be just as hungry as you are."

Atticus thrust the door of the shed open, ushering them out: "Then by all
means let's get some food down his neck so he can be ready just in case you
get a bit peckish later on and need a late-night snack or two."

"Maybe three," Barin said with a knowing wink before quickly adding: "Just
to whet the appetite before the main course is served."

Shaking his head in feigned indignation Brock sighed: " I do declare, what
have a got myself into?"

                                                                             *****

"Where has the week gone?" Carl thought to himself, as he mentally recalled
the events of the last few days, noting how things just seemed to go from
bad to worse, ending this Thursday evening, the night before Billy's
birthday, when his thoughts should be dwelling on the hope and happiness
such an event should entail, instead, finding himself grappling with this
dark somber mood that now subsumed him as he slowly walked down the path
toward the ceremonial grounds just minutes away from midnight.

Carl tried to center his thoughts on the few good things that had happened,
like the continued improvements both Billy and Jason exhibited with each
passing day, but even then, he couldn't help but foster a degree of
trepidation over Jason's ever-increasing changes as the medications his
mother had been giving him worked out of his system and the effects of his
father's Heritage were becoming ever increasingly more prominent and
difficult for Jason to control.

Both his grandfather Marshal and his uncle Merrick were proving to be
extremely helpful in disguising the real truth from Jason, whom they all
felt was still too emotionally immature to know the full truth about what
his mother had done, especially since they had made such progress with
their relationship since then, again, in no small part due to Marshal and
Merrick's influence and of course Max's persistent and frequent chats with
both Jason and his mother, separately and together.

There were also small high points as well, that being the continued
improvement of Timmy, Brock, and Gavin, the latter being mostly Carl's and
Danal's growing admiration of the young man's cognitive abilities and
tech-savvy, something Brock, in particular, was really appreciating,
finding he had someone he could relate too and trust with the expensive
technology he was continuously tweaking and adjusting, and then there was
Brock himself, who seemed day to day to physically improve with his
strength, speed and stamina; somehow, Carl thought to himself, that Danal
possibly had something to do with that and Carl was certain it had
something to do with Coaptandas ritual both Brock and Atticus had undergone
together, noting how even Brock's scent seemed to be changing.

Timmy, of course, continued to mystify them all, excelling and ofttimes
exceeding in both the combat training and the obstacle course, but not
really showing much improvement in their teamwork exercises and of course,
anything to do with running, which he seemed particularly loath to do, not
to mention his apparent inability to remain focused for long periods of
time on anything other than his ceaseless flirtations with just about
everyone on the team.  The best high points of the week were concerning
Billy. What could Carl say, he continuously surprised everyone; after his
failed first attempt when he sparred with Timmy, it seemed to have awakened
something within him and he worked tirelessly, often with Jason and Jake in
tow to spar with, to master Timmy's gymnastic fighting style. Timmy still
seemed to endlessly pull some new trick out of nowhere, but even he was
finding it ever increasingly difficult to match Billy let alone best him.

Still, despite all the positive things that were happening, Carl still felt
that the overall general atmosphere was becoming more solemn, in
particular, it pained Carl to watch as JD's obvious affections continued to
grow for both Jason and Jake and though both seemed to mirror those
sentiments, for now, Carl knew, with the impending ceremony so close at
hand, that what would come as a result of it, was more than likely going to
leave one, if not all of them forced to make choices that could and
probably would jeopardize that growing intimacy and closeness, and no one
understood that more than Carl himself did, having lived through similar
circumstances in the past and now finding himself feeling, at least as far
as he was concerned, that his past was coming back to haunt him again.

He found his thoughts drifting back to the time just about a month before
Michael's birth; for months after Max had revealed that Monaca was pregnant
with his firstborn, he had come to realize that no matter how hard he tried
to get along with her, that no matter what he did, she was never going to
accept a peaceful co-existence, evidenced by her continuous pursuit in
finding even the most trivial things an insufferable affront to her
disposition and constantly blaming Carl for it, or at least strongly
attributing his continued presence in both hers and Max's life as the
reason for all that was wrong in their relationship and accusing Max of not
supporting her by constantly favoring Carl, which was ridiculous, since he
had for the most part taken to staying in his room to avoid having any
contact with her for almost six months.

To compound the matter, Max had even stopped making visits to his room,
completely devoting his time to see to her emotional and physical needs in
an attempt to assuage her, while still fulfilling his promise, made years
before to Carl, after their reunion from their forced separation by Max's
father Marcus, that he would never let anything separate them again, even
to the point of reaffirming that promise when he started dating and then
getting engaged to Monaca.

He was far younger and a lot more naive back then, and he had truly
believed that Max meant every word of the assurance he made about never
letting that happen again. But time, circumstance, and the devious
machinations and intentions of others had finally motivated Max into
testing the boundaries of those words and promises he had made him.

It all came to a head one day after work, just days after they found out
that Monaca was estimated to be less than a month away from giving birth,
that Max had picked him up from his duty station like he did every
afternoon.

Carl should have known something was up by the forced smile Max had on his
face as he got in the vehicle, announcing he had something he wanted to
show Carl, no sooner than his ass had hit the passenger side seat of his
pickup truck.

He had tried to guess what it was, thinking maybe Monaca was delivering
earlier than anticipated, but Max was being tight-lipped about it, assuring
him that it had nothing to do with Monaca, but it was something he had done
for Carl, all the while maintaining what Carl could only describe as a
forced, put on a display of good intentions.

It was obvious to Carl, Max meant for Carl to be excited by his "surprise"
alluding several times to how he hoped Carl really liked what he was going
to show him, all the while coming across as being falsely optimistic about
whatever it was.

After leaving the base and driving down the road a couple of miles, Max
turned off the main road and drove about a quarter of a mile down a poorly
maintained narrow road that wound its way through some fairly thick
forestry only to abruptly end at an older but fairly well preserved small
ranch house, with a two stall garage.

Max pulled right up to the first stall door to the garage and after
shutting the engine off to his truck, he turned to Carl and said "Come
check it out."

At the time, Carl had allowed himself to believe that Max had bought them
all a real home, something they had talked about before when he and Max
were younger and before he started seeing Monaca.

Carl had always figured that to be a pipe dream, knowing full well, that
Max being the sole heir to his father and to his territory and his assured
succession as leader of the southern district Devil Dawgs, that he would
most assuredly be expected to take a wife and start a family assuring that
the Donnelly line would pass to the next generation.

But at that very moment, Carl had allowed himself to let his thoughts take
him to potentially happier times, with thoughts of them building a future
together, with kids, in their own place, even if it was also with Monaca
being there as well, he even allowed himself to envision a couple of little
Max's running around, playing in the yard or tossing a football with their
father, while he and yes, even Monaca where happy, having somehow settled
all their differences so that they could all be one big happy family.

Those were the visions that permeated his thoughts as Max ushered him
through the front door and into the main front room before guiding him
throughout the house showing him each and every room.

The place needed some fixing up, but it had a really nice-sized backyard
with a six-foot-high wooden privacy fence circumventing the majority of it.

The kitchen was a fairly good size and had both a working frig and a
dishwasher, there were also two bathrooms, one built into the already fully
furnished master bedroom and one in the hallway past the kitchen and right
before the second guest bedroom.

As the tour concluded with them returning to the living room, and as Carl
was admiring the fact that it had a working fireplace, he had noticed how
Max had grown more quiet and pensive as he maneuvered himself closer to the
front door and laying the house keys on the kitchen island counter.

Carl still remembered how Max grew silent and his eyes seemed to stare off
into the distance, avoiding his as Carl pointed out that though he thought
the place had potential, it was still no bigger than the house they had on
base. At the time, his thoughts on the matter related to where the nursery
would be, speculating that maybe adding on an extra room or even converting
part of the two attached garage bays into an extra room could solve that
problem and how either was well within their capabilities of doing, though
he was doubtful they could get it done before the baby arrived.

Carl knew at the time he was rambling anxiously, filling the somber silence
emanating from Max with the sound of his own voice and looking back on it
now, if he was being honest with himself, he knew deep down why Max had
brought him there, but more than anything, he could remember the feeling of
his heart sinking within his chest when Max just cleared his throat and
pensively spoke those first two words that changed his life in ways he had
never considered Max capable of: "Carl... listen..."

Carl remembered how he just froze in place, staring at the man he loved
more than life itself, reminding him how difficult and complicated things
were getting at home and how something had to give and that for the time
being he thought it best, to keep the peace, that maybe it would be best if
Carl had his own place.

Recalling it all now, he would be hard-pressed to recollect a single day in
his life that hit him harder than hearing Max try to explain why he was
banishing him to a life of isolation and solitude.

Of course, Max tried to assure him that wasn't the case, even though he
expressed no such sentiment to him verbally, guessing, even then, Max was
saying so out of some sense of guilt over breaking his word to him about
them always being together and now doing just that.

Max would never admit that that was what he was effectively doing, all the
while falsely promising him that they would still spend as much time
together as they always had and assuring him that nothing was really
changing between them and the biggest lie of all, that it was only
temporary.

Sure, Max did drop by rather frequently at first to keep up the illusion,
but that didn't last long, mostly ending by the time Michael was born, and
though Max always insisted he take part in whatever Holiday celebrations
they observed and though he never completely stopped dropping by now and
then for a quick fuck, not one time in the ten years of marriage after
that, did he ever spend the night with him again, not until Monaca
abandoned him and the boys.

Carl shook his head in consternation, doing his best to clear the ghost of
his past from his mind and wondering once again why Max had made the recent
concessions he had made toward their relationship, even practically moving
him back in with him and the boys, to only undermine it all with his
current actions.

Try as he might he couldn't reconcile Max's behavior the last couple of
days, culminating in his actions tonight with how he was treating him just
last week.

Thinking back to Sunday, when he first noted Elizabeth Dunnes attraction to
Max and knowing that Max could sense it too, he had thought at first Max
was merely flattered, Elizabeth was an attractive woman, even though she
was two years older than either he or Max.

But what had confounded Carl the most was how Max left himself open to it,
even letting her casually flirt with him more and more over the last few
days, to lean on him and occupy more and more of his time as he tried to
help her reconcile with her son Jason and even worse, Max's own growing
arousal the more she seemed to depend on him as her emotional crutch.

From its inception, Carl reassured himself that this was just part of who
Max was, his instinct to help those in need, to bolster them until they
could walk on their own, as he had done for Brock and Timmy.

Maybe it was just the fact that she was a woman and in many ways was
comparable in his mind with Monaca and he had kept reminding himself that
she wasn't the same and even though it was apparent Max was enjoying the
time he spent helping her, it hardly explained his growing arousal and his
cavalier, and somewhat dismissive behavior when Carl tried to discuss it
with him, often just waving off his concerns as if it was just an
overreaction on Carl's part, that is until tonight.

It was roughly about ten o'clock Thursday evening and Carl thought it best
they all call it a night, mostly out of concern for JD, who was spending
his nights sleeping on the large leather couch in the cabins main room so
that Liz could have privacy up in the only other sleeping space in the loft
opposite to the one he and Max slept in.

JD had been yawning for almost half an hour as both Max and Elizabeth
continued to chat away, huddled together on the couch, Max doing what he
had been doing for the last four days, reassuring her about her son's
emotional state and how to best move forward with Marshal and Merrick
Griffen's help.

Carl watched as she beamed when Max praised Jason's recent performances
with the unit and how Max ate up her gushing, eye batting appraisals of his
insightful understanding and compassion, until he had had enough for one
night and pointed out how tired JD must be after a long day of training and
how much they still had to do the next day to get everything set up for
Billy's ceremony and birthday celebration.

Max had agreed, though albeit reluctantly, and they all bid their
good-nights and shuffled off to their respective beds for the evening,
allowing JD to stretch out and quickly fall fast asleep before he and Max
had barely made it to the loft.

Carl eschewed any thought of deliberating his observations and concerns
over the way Max was handling Elizabeth's emotional state and her growing
admiration and growing arousal, choosing instead to just keep those
thoughts to himself for now, as he cuddled up to Max and allowing his
concerns to drift away as they both quietly succumbed to slumber.  But
Carl's sleep had become troubled, as his dreams grew restless and finally
forcing him to awake abruptly.

He quickly noted Max's absence from their bed causing Carl to reach for his
phone to check the time. Eleven thirty-two PM.

He'd only been asleep for about ninety minutes and he began scanning the
loft for Max, as he sat up in the kingsized bed they slept in, his thoughts
growing increasingly troubled and concerned.

It was then he heard the faint hushed whispers wafting from across the
cabin from the loft on the other side of the cabin and Carl focused his
attention in that direction as he slowly slipped from the mattress to stand
at the foot of their bed and the few feet that separated the bed from the
edge of the loft.

Being of the Heritage afforded them certain benefits, one of them being
superior night vision and though it was very dark within the cabin at
night, he could still make out the shape of Max's broad back as he sat
sideways on the twin bed Elizabeth Dunne was lying in, covered in the white
top sheet that she clung to her chest as she lay their supine, talking in
hushed tones with Max.

At first, Carl grew concerned that something had so upset Elizabeth that
Max had risen to go comfort her and was even now trying to calm her as he
had done multiple times that week, but as he stood there quietly watching
them, he watched in dismay as Max leaned forward and the faint sounds of
kissing made its way across the divided space between them.

In that instant, Carl had to clasp his hand over his mouth as he struggled
not to gasp out loud from the surprise of what he had just witnessed, he
felt his legs grow weak, lowering him almost subconsciously to a crouching
position at the foot of their bed, unable to take his eyes off of them as
her hands clasped the back of Max's head and the kissing sounds became more
fervid.

He watched, as if in slow motion and in total disbelief as Max rose from
the bed and dropped the sweat pants he must have slipped on and the outline
of his massive erection came into view silhouetted by the faint moonlight
coming from the window beside the bed.

Carl's mind raced with a myriad of conflicting emotions, from rage to
crushing disappointment as he watched Elizabeth pull aside the sheet
covering her body as Max straddled the bed to take his place between her
spread legs. Carl noted as she slowly pulled the sheet back over them, up
to Max's waist as he lowered his head once again to hers and resumed
kissing as she raked her fingers across his broad back.

As the shock of the moment began to fade and anger began to subsume his
consciousness, he searched the floor for his clothing and began gathering
them as quietly as he could and as he pulled on his sweatshirt he continued
to watch as Max began to slide down her body until his head was clearly
positioned between her widespread legs.

He watched almost mesmerized as her hands clutched at his head and felt his
stomach begin to churn as her moans grew more persistent and high pitched,
thrusting her hips to and fro as the wet lapping sounds between her thighs
grew louder.

Carl fumed at the sight and his rising anger finally freed him from the
almost hypnotic compulsion to watch as the man he loved made a mockery of
all the progress in their relationship he had thought they had made in the
last few weeks.

It was the sound of his own rapidly beating heart that made the blood
within his body surge making a building ringing in his ears as his blood
pressure mounted in anger and emotional distress.

Carl quickly shuffled himself into his pants as he moved silently to the
ladder steps that would allow him to descend to the ground floor of the
cabin.

He turned to look at them one last time only to catch Max rise back up into
her arms as barely concealed moans of passion escaped her lips as he drove
his manhood into her.

The last sight Carl could bear, as his heart sank within his chest, was
that of his lover's hips pistoning up and down as he thrust into her, his
grunts a testimony to the shattered illusion of the growing bond Carl had
felt they had been forging.

Anger and disappointment had motivated him to slip stealthily down the
ladder and out the front door, promising himself that this was the last
time Max would ever make a fool of him again.

Words he now repeated to himself as he found his way to the ceremonial
grounds to stare up at the almost full moon as it waxed within the evening
sky until a sharp rustling sound disturbed his contemplation coming from
the entrance to the reliquary.

"Carl... is that you?" He heard his mentor's query, but Carl didn't
respond.

For years Danal had repeatedly convinced him that Max loved him and that he
did the things he did out of the need to help others, he had done it so
many times that he even had Carl telling himself the same thing, time and
again excusing Max's behavior as if it justified his actions.

At this moment though, Carl was in no mood for Danal's platitudes, he
didn't need someone to champion Max's causes or paint him as just some
jealous, possessive lover.

He didn't want to be talked down, reminded of all the things Max did
include and share with him.

None of that mattered to him at the moment, his life felt as empty as the
bed he had just left.

He knew Danal would penultimately remind him of his duty to Max and the
shared cause they all fought for; Carl hadn't changed his mind about that,
he was bound by the Heritage to Max, but unless he was going to order him
to share his bed, from this moment on, Carl had no intention of debasing
himself like that again, he had done it for nearly twenty years now and
enough was enough. He would do his duty, complete his assignments and honor
his agreements, but he was done pining after something Max kept repeatedly
demonstrating he did not want or desire from him.

Without a word Carl turned away from Danal and ran into the woods, as far
as he was concerned, it was all the joy he had left in this world, the only
thing that never let him down, the joy of the moonlit run and the freedom
it invoked in all those within the Heritage. Carl had spent too long away
from the healing powers of the great woods, thinking Max, Danal and the
worries of his life be damned, he was free now, unfettered and all he
desired right now was to spend his first night of freedom doing the one
thing that brought him joy, so he ran, ran as fast as he could and
disappeared into the night, leaving only the ever-diminishing sound of his
footsteps behind him.

Danal stood there dumbfounded, tugging worriedly at his ever-increasingly
greying beard, murmuring to himself: "God Dammit Max, what have you done
now?!"