Devil Dawg Donnelly's

"Dayaam baby, you're drivin' me crazy" Atticus Walker moaned as Brock Gryzinski sat there on the leather couch, in his lap facing him, his arms around his neck, knees splayed out on either side of his thighs, as he ground his hole against the base of his fourteen-inch cock.

"Whatsah matter country boy, am I wearin' you out?" Brock hissed through clenched teeth as he caused the muscles of his hole to undulate along the length of the beer can thick member as the loose, swollen folds of his anal ring sucked loudly at the expansive, wet flesh at the root of his turgid, bloated manhood.

They had been fucking all morning, ever since they woke up; in fact, they had slept together with Atticus' cock buried balls deep inside Brock's hole since they collapsed in exhaustion somewhere around 3 or 4 am.

Brock had always felt that Max had always held back during their infrequent get together's and this first night with Atticus only confirmed his suspicions; that the men of the Heritage were not only virile and potent, but they had a vitality and stamina that far exceeded normal limitations.

Long ago, Brock had read somewhere that the average human male could only sustain an erection for 4 to 6 hours maximum, but this limitation didn't seem to apply to either Max or Atticus and he couldn't help but wonder if it was applicable to all those within the Heritage and if it was, how could he sign up!

"Not gettin' tired Gryzinski juz takin' it easy on ya, don't wanna wreck your cunt since junior here seems to have takin' a shine to his new home." Atticus flexed his turgid rod inside Brock's throbbing quim, making it dance and jerk inside him to emphasize his point.

Brock squeezed his hole tighter around Atticus's cock: "Oh really..."Brock quipped as he pulled his ass up, the vice-like grip of his sphincter practically pulling Atticus' hips upward with him, before slamming back down to crush his ass cheeks against Atticus' orange-sized ball sack: "From where I'm sitting, you look like your the one taking it easy while I do all the work."

Atticus snarled between gritted teeth, bringing his head forward until their foreheads touched, his large calloused hands gripped Brock's muscular bubble butt as his eyes bored into Brock's: "Playtime's over..." Atticus growled, lifting the two of them into a standing position, with Brock's legs wrapped around his waist and his arms encircling his broad thick neck to help maintain their balance while simultaneously keeping his phallus impaled inside Brock's overstuffed hole.

Brock felt Atticus's grip tighten even more on his ass-cheeks as he lifted Brock's hips effortlessly up the length of his steely thick rod before slamming him back down with such force that the sound reverberated off the walls of the cabin.

Brock gritted his teeth in pain at the sheer force of that thrust but was determined not to let Atticus get the best of him, as he practically head-butted him, his gaze burning fire into Atticus's eyes as his left hand gripped the back of his head, grinding their noses together: "Don't mind me if I take a nap while you work up the steam to throw a real fuck into me country boy."

Atticus's face contorted into a lecherous grimace, baring his teeth in a broad toothy, wicked grin: "I'll be sure to wake ya when I'm done fuckin' your brains into the top of your skull."

With a bassy growling roar, Atticus unleashed the full power of his driving hips into Brock's already abused hole, relentlessly thrusting and pounding into him in rapid succession until Brock's head just lolled backward and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Atticus drove into him, walking them all over the room as he did so, pounding and humping with Herculean force, leaving Brock feeling very much like a rag doll in his powerful arms for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

Hard as he tried, Brock could not maintain the tight, strangling grip his hole once had; after the relentless hammering ripped away the last of his resistance, all Brock could do was surrender to the pummeling invasion of Atticus's monster schlong, his hole yielded all opposition and became an open gaping maw sucking noisily at the sticky girth of Atticus's rock hard member.

As Brock succumbed to the onslaught of Atticus's pulverizing thrust, time became disjointed, he lost track of how long his lover pounded into him, before he lowered him on his back on the table on the other side of the room, hauling his legs up over his shoulders before leaning on top of him, burying his face in Brock's neck and began nibbling at the tender flesh of his throat as his hands gripped his tits pulling at the hard pert nubs of his nipples, his thick full lips gliding wetly down his body, over his sternum and pecs until his mouth wrapped around his left nipple, sucking it into his ravenous mouth, feeding on the tender silken flesh until it was swollen, puffy and distended before moving over to the other one and repeating the process.

Atticus's thrust became less urgent and more purposeful as he noted the effect the massive head of his dong had as the coronal ridge raked across Brock's ass clit, feeling his entire body quiver beneath him as he zeroed in and centered his movements on stimulating the gland until Brock was squirming and moaning in rapturous pleasure, squealing out his delight in whimpers and grunts, repeatedly groaning "fuck me."

Once again Atticus brought their foreheads together, staring into the lustful abyss of Brock's glassy eyes, the heat of their breath mingling hotly against each other's lips, but never touching.

Brock yearned to press his pouting lips against Atticus's but held back, not wanting to dare the rejection he felt he would face at just such an attempt.

He knew in time Atticus would adjust, would succumb to his own passions, and relent to the desires of his flesh and the wanton delight of reckless abandon; patience and time were all that was required, Brock himself having experienced much the same thing in his first fumbling encounters.

Instead of dwelling on what he knew would inevitably be, he chose instead to allow his hands to wander over the rippling sweaty flesh of his lover's hirsute body, pulling him closer and swabbing his neck and hairy chest with his tongue, lapping at the moist musky perspiration that now covered his entire body like a patina of glimmering masculinity worn to seduce and entice his senses.

Atticus smiled wickedly to himself, noting the exuberance and building desires as Brock licked randomly at his sweaty skin, remembering his lover's command forbidding him from bathing before he comes home after a day of training and his subsequent acknowledgment of finding his scent intoxicating.

With that in mind, Atticus pivoted his body slightly, maneuvering his hairy, sweaty armpit directly over Brock's mouth before clutching the back of Brock's head in his large hand and pulling his face into the musky depths of his pit: "Lap it up bitch" Atticus growled, grinding Brock's mouth against the odoriferous hairy trench and watched in delight as he lapped incessantly slurping up the plethora of porous secretions contained within.

Atticus detected almost instantly the heightened arousal Brock experienced and increased the speed of his thrust against his prostate, observing how it made Brock's cock jump and twitch with the increased dual stimulation.

In mere moments Atticus manipulations pushed Brock over the edge, drove him into a quivering mass of orgasmic spams as his hard six-inch cock exploded between them, spurting what little juices remained after their morning long couplings, the undulating spasms of his constricting, slick hole gulped hungrily like the suckling mouth of a starving baby siphoning greedily at his tumescent pecker drawing Atticus into his own tumultuous climax, practically making him piss in an almost continuous spurt of thick, viscous ropey sperm and semen, coruscating in rapid succession into the deepest depths of his bowels flooding him to overflowing.

As the blazing chiaroscuro of dizzying sensations ebbed into the smoldering embers of post-coital bliss, Atticus slowly withdrew his slowly deflating dong, its long thick length covered in the lathered gooey emissions he had just ejaculated into Brock's smoldering twat.

Atticus watched in fascination as the loose folds of Brock's swollen, distended orifice clung wetly to his shaft, pulling inches away from his body like a fleshy condom, before finally, with a slight plop, slipped free to smack wetly against his hairy muscular thigh.

Taking a step back, Atticus watched as Brock slipped down from the table in one slow continuous fluid movement to kneel before his deflating prick, looking hungrily up into Atticus's eyes, locking sight to sight as he began to lick the semi-erect phallus, in long broad strokes with his tongue, scooping up the patina of fuck muck before gulping it down greedily until his entire member was lapped clean as a whistle.

As if right on cue, a loud rapping on the cabin door broke the lusty spell that lingered after their coupling.

Gathering his wits, Atticus shouted over his shoulder in the direction of the door: "Be there in a moment." before leaning over and helping Brock to his feet and guiding him over to the couch, assisting him as he lowered himself, then reaching for the blanket that draped across the back of the couch and spreading it across Brock's lap.

To his delight, Brock watched as Atticus crossed the room, his large, spit wet semi-erect schlong swinging side to side pendulously as he approached and opened the door, completely unphased by his nudity.

The handsome Barin Young stood there framed in the doorway, a large covered tray in his arms.

Brock watched with amusement as Atticus stepped aside, allowing the young Marine to enter and carry the large tray to the table they had just fucked on, and set it down.

"We thought y'all might be gettin' a bit peckish so we whipped ya up some vittles" the stalwart sandy blond bemused, in his deep Texan drawl, before lifting the cover to reveal two large plates heaped with large thick rare steaks, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob.

Brock smiled broadly as the young Marine winked at him before, nodding in Atticus's direction, giving his prodigious phallus a sideways glance, rolling his eyes skyward and wickedly shaking his head before turning and exiting the way he came.

Before shutting the door he exclaimed: "If'in y'all need anything..." He paused briefly, winking once again at Brock: "Be sure to holler, I'd be more than happy to assist ya anyway I can."

Brock almost burst out laughing as he watched him slowly shut the door, giving him one final wink before closing it completely.

"I think someone has an admirer" Atticus bemused, smiling lasciviously at Brock and nodding his head in the direction of the door.

Brock just shook his head as he rose from the couch, quipping: "He's cute but I doubt nowhere near as much fun as you are."

Sitting at the table and pulling one of the plates toward him as Brock crossed the room to join him at the table by taking the seat adjacent to his, Atticus responded: "I'm sure you wouldn't have any problem training him to be useful in all sorts of ways."

Atticus leered at him, his teeth baring in a sardonic grin as he winked mischievously before tearing into the large juicy steak in front of him.

                                                                        *****

It had been over twenty years since Elizabeth Dunne had seen Henry Bauers, twenty-odd years since she, him, and Russel Whitmore paid their last respects to Bannor Griffen at his graveside.

She could almost still feel the tears running down her cheeks as they lowered her lover into the cold ground and the honor guard handed the flag that had draped his casket to his distraught father, whispering quiet words of solace and the usual platitudes of "he died with honor in service to his country" words she had heard aplenty those last few days in Jacksonville North Carolina, as they buried all the others who had died along with him that day in Iraq.

Henry and Russel did their best to comfort her, despite contending with their own feelings of loss, especially Henry, who had spent his life being Bannor's closest friend and confidant.

She also knew the special connection between him and all the others they now mourned, brothers not only in service but in the Heritage as well; Hank, as Bannor had always addressed him, now stood before her, in the back yard patio of the Donnelly residence staring back at her like a ghost risen from the grave.

Elizabeth stood there transfixed and wide-eyed, the world around her seeming to swirl into a vertiginous cacophony of flooding memories and the ever-increasing pounding of her heart.

Fear subsumed her, the natural instinct to flee what she perceived as a threat, one she had spent over twenty years avoiding, now stared back at her; Henry Bauers, Bannor's most trusted friend, and companion, stood less than six feet away from her, a surprised questioning look on his face.

She could hear his voice, knew by the fact of his moving lips, that he was talking to her, but his words didn't register, their meaning lost as focus and reason abandoned her in her near panicked state.

Adrenalin coursed through her body, and she did her best to suppress the primal urge to scream and run, knowing full well the very thing she had sought all these years to avoid, to protect her son from, was inexorably embodied in the mere physical presence of the man before her.

Horror and trepidation filled her being as Hank took a step toward her, his hand extended in supplication, a look of concern written in his visage as she subconsciously found herself backing away from him seeking to distance herself from his proximity with each additional step forward he made until she felt her body bump against the stone-like presence of the man whose home she had allowed her son to drag her too.

"Don't touch me!" she commanded as she veered away from Max Donnelly, backing away from him as if his presence was a personal affront to her: "And you..." she snarled at Hank, raising her hand to point her index finger at him, almost accusatory: "Stay away from me!"

"Liz, it's me, Hank Bauers, surely you remember me, I'd never do anything to harm you." she heard Hank say, his soothing baritone voice a melodic combination of both concern and confusion.

She glowered at him for a moment, before looking from him to the others; the one called Carl eyed her dubiously, his face a reflection of the studious, almost clinical nature she often comported when assessing one of her students and then to Max, who stood there emotionless, his arms folded over his chest as his steely eyes drilled into and through her, once again reminding her so much of her former lover, Bannor Griffen.

It was at that moment it hit her; what a fool she had been, she had allowed her love for her son to blind her, she had given in to him and let him lure her right to these people, brought her right back to the one thing she had always done her best to avoid, to protect her son from... they were all of the Heritage.

"You can't have him!" she blurted, almost absentmindedly, her voice barely a whisper, as a myriad of potential futures expanded within her consciousness, each and every one now verging into a singularity of thought, they know who her son is and they are going to take him away from her!

"YOU CAN"T HAVE HIM!" she shouted frantically as she dug into the purse she had been clutching to her stomach, producing the Glock 26 Gen5 subcompact 9mm pistol she kept for her self protection, brandishing it before her, challenging any of them to disagree with her.

Bannor had taught her well, insisted she be able to protect herself in his absence, warned her how there were those in the world if they learned of her connection to him, might see her as a way of getting to him, cautioning her, that even within the Heritage there were those without honor and wouldn't hesitate in causing her harm if they felt it a tactical advantage over him.

He had trained her himself in the use of firearms, had even taught her some self-defense moves with and without weapons, she was no expert by any means, but as Bannor had said, even a handgun can bring even the strongest of the Heritage down if wielded properly, and after his death, she had made it a point to become proficient in the use of her little equalizer.

Elizabeth Dunne had no intent in shooting anyone, all she wanted at this very moment was to collect her son and get him as far away as she possibly could, to keep him safe, to make sure they didn't seduce him into the Heritage and put him on the same self-destructive path her dead lover had followed.

She was also kicking herself for not having seen it earlier, noting how even she had thought how similar Max was to Bannor, how everyone around him seemed to focus on him, she had even seen it earlier, right after they had arrived, when her son introduced her to Max, she saw the way her son looked at him, the admiration in his eyes for a man he barely knew; but it was also the little things, like when they sat down to eat, how everyone at the table waited, looking to Max, holding back to begin consuming their meal until he took the first bite of food, even the way he let the one called Carl draw her into conversations as he sat there studiously observing them like he was gauging their responses, or like now, how they all looked to him, waiting for him to speak or take some action as she pointed the gun directly at him.

One of Bannor's primary lessons was, in the eventuality of a group situation, always secure or take out the leader first, that it would throw the group into disarray, it was why she was not surprised at all when Max spoke first.

"Just as I suspected, you do know who your son is" Max declared, leveling his bright blue eyes directly at her, his calm demeanor relaying the fact, that even though she had a gun pointed directly at him, he still didn't see her as a real threat.

To her surprise, it was Henry Bauers who spoke next, taking her a bit off guard, after hearing the obvious, questioning concern in his voice: "Liz, why are you doing this?"

Before she could stammer a response, Max interjected: "Because Hank, she has a son that's just about the age to come into his Heritage and she thinks she can stop that from happening."

"Correction, I will stop it" She hissed at Max, not once taking her eyes off of him, knowing she couldn't allow anything or anyone to distract her now, not before she got Jason out of there.

"Why would you do that Liz?" Hank queried, again the inflection of his tone denoted his underlying concern for her and the very real confusion surrounding her.

She felt a pang of remorse for Hank, of all of the men that followed Bannor, he was the one she felt closest to, the one that was ever by Bannor's side and subsequently hers as well.

She had only fond memories of their times together, his jovial disposition, his silly quips and banter with all the others, the often affectionate regard and esteem in which Bannor held for his childhood friend, she had even suspected they had even been lovers but hid it from her, she had often felt that Bannor held such feelings for many of the men in his squad.

At the time, it didn't bother her, she had thought it more a fraternal camaraderie type of situation, neither Bannor nor any of the others ever made her feel as if what he had with her was felt any less profoundly than what he had for any of them, they had always tried to make her feel a part of their group and in her way, she cared for each and every one of them, but they were gone now, as dead as the man she gave her heart too, in what seemed a lifetime ago.

But that was then, this was now; she knew the history of the Heritage, had debated her misgivings and fears for his and the others safety with Bannor over and over again, to no avail.

She had tried hard to understand why none of his men had girlfriends, why the Codex forbid them to even seek sexual pleasure with women as long as they were bound to Bannor.

Elizabeth had often asked him if she could read the text herself, thinking perhaps she might find a loophole they didn't see, but always got the same response, the Codex was for the eyes of those within the Heritage only.

"Why would I do that?" she retorted angrily to Hank: "Are you seriously asking me that question after what happened to you and the others and too...?" she couldn't even bring herself to speak Bannor's name and she didn't have to look at Hank to know the effect her words had on him, his physical and emotional response was almost palpable.

She glared at Max as he dropped his hands from their folded position across his broad chest to clench into a fist at his side, her eyes darted to Carl as he now looked poised at any moment to bound across the short distance between him and her, his eyes glued to the barrel of her revolver.

"Make one move toward me..." she spat at Carl, her eyes two daggers, full of intent and purpose: "And I'll put one right between Max's eyes."

Carl froze in place, but she could feel the mounting strength building in Max, it emanated from him in almost visibly perceptible waves of force and it subconsciously made her take a couple of steps backward.

She knew full well the strength and speed he had at his command, knew that even from this distance, his abilities might exceed any physical response she could muster, but she'd be damned if they thought she would give up without a fight.

But right now, even at this moment, her greatest fear wasn't the physical threat Max and Carl presented, no her greatest fear lay in Hank potentially coming face to face with her son Jason.

She knew, neither Max nor Carl realized the full truth of Jason's lineage, they might suspect she deduced, but there was no way they could know for certain, but Hank... Elizabeth dreaded what she might be forced to do if the two came into contact.

It was that overwhelming realization that made her quickly pivot and aim the gun at Hank, training it squarely at his head as he now slowly moved closer toward Carl, eyes fixed on hers, his face a questioning grimace of concern and doubt.

"Liz I would never hurt you or your son" Hank plead, his voice subsumed with sincerity: "I have two boys of my own now, both older than yours from what I've heard"

Elizabeth steeled herself, picturing the large youth that went into the house with her son and JD, she mentally derided herself for not catching it earlier, that the large muscle-bound young man they called Jake was indeed Hank's progeny was now obvious to her.

Questions began to swirl within her head making her feel slightly vertiginous: "I thought you and the others weren't allowed to be with women, let alone marry them?" she queried, trying to reconcile what she knew of the Codex and what Bannor may or may not have revealed to her.

"After we lost..." Hank began, but couldn't bring himself to say his name aloud, letting his words hang in the air, his voice thick with sadness and remorse at his remembrance: "We were bound to him Liz..."Hank finally continued: "But after he was gone and there were no others to take his place, we were no longer subject to the rules of the Codex, we were forced to exist outside of it."

Elizabeth pondered his words, digesting their meaning, and found it rather troubling that Bannor's death had in some way set the others free, had in fact allowed them to pursue relationships of their own and to even have families.

"So I guess Russel did the same thing huh?" she spat, almost mockingly, hating the fact that the two sole survivors of her lover's squad got to have the life that she and Bannor had never got to share together.

She regretted almost instantly the spiteful tone of her voice when Hank quietly responded, with a look of forlorn sadness: "Russel Whitmore died eight years later in Afghanistan."

Hank's words hit her like a punch to the face; Russel held a special place in all their hearts being the youngest of Bannor's squad, she had always thought how sweet and ofttimes naive he was, how the others loved to tease him for being the newbie, not taking into account he often bested a lot of them out in the field during their endless training exercises.

She snapped out of her reverie when she heard Max interject: "Russel Whitmore has a son too and if I'm not mistaken he and Jason was born just days apart from one another."

Without taking his eyes off the gun now pointing at him, Hank responded: "That would mean he's seventeen..." his voice trailed off as his brow furrowed in thought before asking the one question they all wanted the answer to: "If that's the case, who is Jason's father?"

His eyes searched Elizabeth's as if supplicating her for an answer that would make sense, that would explain why she now held a gun pointed directly at him; Hank may have initially been slow on the uptake, but the fact she was singling him out as the potentially most threatening person to her and her son, indicated that there was a lot more here than met the eye and minute by minute he was increasingly certain he needed to know what that something was.

'WHO is your son's father Liz?" Hank demanded, instinctively taking a step toward her, completely ignoring the gun she aimed at him.

Elizabeth Dunne faltered for a second, her hand shook as her resolve wavered and the world seemed to swirl around her, consuming her consciousness, before one sobering thought brought her back to the stark reality that faced her now, Henry mustn't get anywhere near her son or she could lose him forever: "Take another step toward me Henry and the paternity of my son will be the least of your worries!" to emphasize her point, Elizabeth grasped the gun in both her hands, the index finger of her right hand tightening on the trigger, noting at this point a single breath could set the pistol off.

It was at that moment, Elizabeth caught a brief flash of white in her peripheral vision, at first she thought it some trick of the light, like the late afternoon sunlight dancing off a blowing sheet in the wind accompanied by the corresponding rustling sound of sheer fabric, gently rustling in the breeze.

She felt no sense of trepidation from it, no impending or looming menace, it was barely of notice to her as she stood there with her gun aimed intimidatingly at the three men who could menace the life she had crafted for her and her son, but she also sensed she had forgotten something, like a morning dream drifting away in the periphery of awakening consciousness.

It was then, in a bustling, florid motion that came tumbling down from the sky to land a couple of feet to her right, was the form of a pale but beatific, angelic like creature and one of the most handsome young men she had ever laid eyes on.

His sparkling sapphire blue eyes twinkled back at her as her startled perceptions took in his boyishly cherubic features, his cute button nose, and full pouty lips, the golden tight curls of his soft hair, sheared tightly to the sides of his head but left slightly longer on top leaving small ringlets to bounce across his forehead.

He smiled disarmingly back at her for the briefest of seconds before his left leg shot straight upward into the air, crashing against her forearms, close to her wrist, forcing them to jolt upward, while almost simultaneously causing her finger to flex against the trigger of the pistol, discharging the weapon in a cacophony of staccato booming shots into the late afternoon sky.

In another motion of shear fluidic grace, his body seemed to lift effortlessly from the ground as his right leg pirouetted toward her chest, knocking her backward on her ass into the soft grass beside the patio, his hands shooting forward, as his body came to rest on his knees before her, to clasp the gun in her hands with his own before he yanked it effortlessly from her grasp tossing it far to the side.

Timmy Anderson stared her right in the eye, his own glowing with mischievous mirth: "Didn't your mother teach you any manners, it's not polite to point!"

                                                                          *****

"You're goin' down Lurch" Jason Dunne postulated enthusiastically, as he thumbed chaotically on the PS4 controller as he fought for dominance after unleashing a successful combo attack against Jake Bauers.

Both young men sat on the edge of JD's bed as JD himself sat on the floor between them rooting for each in turn, decidedly cheering on the one who was winning at the moment, reasoning it was the only way he could remain neutral and not show favoritism.

"Dude, I know ol' ladies that fight better than you do" Jake mused, matching Jason's combo by blocking most of it and releasing a salvo of combo attacks that readily defeated Jason's chosen game character.

JD hooted and pumped his fist in the air, cheering Jake on: "That's three in row Peewee, looks like you be takin' another dirt nap."

"I'd like to see you do better Donnelly" Jason teased, casually tossing the controller into JD's lap, while still shaking his head in disbelief at the superior skill the massive young Marine had just dished out against him.

"Now ya know how it feels every time you've whipped my ass playin' this stupid game" JD taunted, turning around and getting up on his knees grasping Jason's head between his hands and planting a kiss against his forehead with a loud smack of his lips.

"Oh sure.." Jake moaned in feigned indignation: "The loser wins the prize while the winners left twiddling his thumbs."

Without so much as a thought, JD smirked: "Awwww, poor baby..." then leaned over, planting his lips against Jake's for a quick kiss.

The surprised look on Jake's visage and the subsequent deep red blush of his face was worth the minor pang of guilt JD suddenly felt having kissed someone other than the guy seated next to him, Jason Dunne.

Those feelings faded rapidly when he rather demurely cast a glance toward Jason's face and finding only a large toothy grin glaring back at him.

"Dayamm..." Jason mused, leaning back on the bed until he was propped upright by his elbows: "That's kinda hot."

It was JD's turn to blush as Jason winked at him seductively before lowering his gaze to the growing, tenting bulge in the front of his blue jeans and then suggestively back to JD's widening eyes; a bold move JD found to be simultaneously both shocking and arousing at the same time.

At first, surprised by Jason's initial response, JD's thoughts spiraled into a myriad of directions, most of which was now fueled by his burgeoning teenage hormones and libido, his thoughts drifted into the realm of fantasy as he pondered the possibilities and implications of Jason's overtly acquiescent approval.

For days now, JD had allowed himself to be subsumed with feelings of guilt for his awakening attraction for Jake, fearing Jason's possible jealous reactions if he suspected JD harbored feelings toward anyone else but him.

Even now, with that somewhat tacit approval by Jason, JD still felt a twinge of trepidation at possibly unsettling the careful emotional balance he had maintained between what he felt for and desired from Jason and what he had always felt for Jake.

But now, with that one simple reaction from Jason, JD now began to consider other possibilities, mentally taking stock of viable options that potentially laid before him, he had never allowed himself to consider before, and slowly those possibilities began to take root in the back of his mind, driven and feeding off a potential paradigm he'd never given pause to consider, until now.

But before he could allow himself to consider that path he had to know for certain that course wouldn't lead away from the one he had allowed to be set and wanted with Jason.

It was with that thought in mind he heard the familiar voice of his father running through his consciousness, an ephemeral, bodiless presence imparting his sagely wisdom in moments of need, assuring him that when the moment arose he'd know his path forward and all he had to do was accept and embrace it, to hold on with both hands as hard as he could.

JD felt that such a moment could be now, but first, he had to talk to Jason, he had to know his thoughts on what he was considering, to better gauge and possibly traverse a road he had only now considered a viable option.
"Hey Jake, would you mind getting us some Coke's from the frig?" JD asked, turning his head to smile as innocently as he was capable of doing.

"Can do, need to take a leak anyway" the giant said amiably as he rose and stretched, before heading out the bedroom door.

As soon as Jake left the room, JD nuzzled in close to Jason and planted a quick kiss on his lips bringing a large smile that now dominated his face: "What was that for?" Jason queried, adding quickly: "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"Because I wanted to butter up my boyfriend before I ask him something that might be a little bit touchy" JD smiled as demurely as he could, throwing in a touch of the sardonic by scrunching his nose and batting his eyelids in a playful, over-exaggerated way.

Jason chuckled: "Oh boy I'm in for it now aren't I?" it was really more of a statement than a question and JD just smiled back at him, placing his hand on Jason's chest, toying with the top button of his light green dress shirt as he pondered his next question and hoping Jason didn't take it the wrong way.

He must have taken to long considering how he would frame what he had in mind because Jason reached up with his right hand and started gently stroking the side of JD's left cheek, drawing JD's gaze toward his own: "If you're wondering if I'm cool with you possibly messin' round with Jake the answer is yes."

The surprise he felt after Jason said that must have registered on his face, it was in part exactly where he wanted their conversation to go and JD was a little caught off guard and even slightly impressed with how in tune they often were when they were together.

Add in the fact that there was always just a little bit of that out of control spontaneity about Jason, that just made JD enjoy being with him more and more.

"Listen, he's a really cute guy you've got some history with..." Jason said softly, slowly wrapping his left arm around JD's shoulder and pulling his head down next to his, affectionately stroking the hair on the side of his head, before adding: "We've already established that we're boyfriends and I definitely don't wanna come across as some sort of stereotypical jealous and possessive douche bag most guys turn into when they date someone."

Jason planted a soft kiss on JD's forehead before concluding: "Besides, I can tell how attracted the two of you are to each other and truthfully I do kinda find it to be a bit of a turn-on, and..." He paused for a second, looking directly into JD's eyes seductively: "I am hardly in the position of being able to complain since you didn't bust my balls about doing coach Tuck."

JD pulled back and gave Jason a cocky half-grin: "Well, technically we weren't boyfriends at the time, so..."

"Even so..." Jason interjected, ruffling JD's hair: "You didn't make a big deal out of it as most people would."

JD saw that as his opportunity to bring up what he really wanted to talk to Jason about.

"I'm glad you feel that way too Jason..." JD began, hoping against hope Jason's open-mindedness would leave him just as agreeable to what he was about to suggest.

Again, JD toyed with the top button of Jason's shirt, as he moved in a little closer to press his body against Jason's: "Did I hear right, did you say that you thought Jake was really cute?" He queried, briefly allowing their eyes to lock as they exchanged glances.

"Well duh..." Jason chided playfully: "You'd have to be blind not to think so, have you ever seen a dude with muscles stacked that big before?"

JD snickered jovially as Jason fanned his own face mockingly.

"Ya know..." JD purred rather coyly: "I was thinking that maybe that you and I could... I don't know, maybe...kinda..." Jason sat up abruptly looking down at JD, his eyes growing a bit wide before narrowing inquisitively before his lips spread into a lustful sneer: "Are you suggesting we do him together Mr. Donnelly?"

JD smiled back at him, baring his teeth like a Cheshire cat, before sprawling out on the bed his hands behind his head, staring daringly back at Jason: "Ooohh, what a wonderful suggestion Mr. Dunne."

Jason threw his head back in a hearty laugh before diving on top of JD, crushing his body with his own, grinding the massive erection throbbing in his pants against the tenting bulge in JD's.

"Dayaam, you naughty boy, here I was working up the courage to ask you if I could watch the two of you go it and you go and do me one better," Jason said enthusiastically, leaning in to plant a hard wet kiss on JD's pouting lips.

"Funny that..." JD mused, adding: "I was kinda hoping to watch the two of you do the same thing."

Jason growled wickedly, his eyes burning lustfully as he stared into JD's eyes: "Well he ain't exactly my cup of tea if you know what I mean, but if it turns you on, I'm game if you are?" he posited, rubbing the tip of his nose against JD's, letting the tip of his tongue slip out and rake across JD's luscious lips, parting them before slipping in to fill JD's hungry mouth.

It was at that moment their lustful coupling was interrupted by the sound of two loud gunshots coming from the back yard patio.

They both instantly shot to their feet, running toward the bedroom door, where they met Jake; the three looked ominously at each other, concern and shock registering on each of their faces, not saying a word before they each darted toward the back door.

                                                                        *****

After hearing the gunshots from inside the house and JD and Jason joined him as he had just exited the bathroom, Jake made sure to keep the two behind him as he cautiously opened the back door, being careful to bar the exit from JD and Jason.

His Marine Corps training had instantly kicked in and realized his number one priority was first to protect his two young companions, despite their eagerness to discover what had happened.

"You two stay back while I check things out" Jake ordered, his voice barely a whisper, but firm enough for both boys to understand he meant business.

Normally JD's first instinct would have been to brush Jake off and push past him, knowing full well that either his dad or Carl could be hurt or worse on the other side of that door, but one look at the near panic on Jason's face as he too feared much the same for his mother, he reconciled himself to show restraint, letting Jake's age and training be their guide, as he knew either his father or Carl would have expected him too.

JD also knew, that if he didn't hold on to Jason's arm the way he did right at that moment, Jason would have probably already rushed past Jake and charged headlong into whatever awaited them on the other side.

As Jake discreetly slipped out the back entrance, the first thing he saw was Jason's mom, sitting in the grass with Timmy Anderson kneeling beside her, his hand on her shoulder in what appeared to be a comforting gesture as she seemed to babble incoherently about keeping them away from her son.

She looked frazzled, her hair now disheveled, eyes frantic, her eyeliner running down her cheeks mixed with the tears that poured from her eyes.

Off to the side, Max Donnelly stood with Carl McGregor and his dad, Hank Bauers, who cradled what appeared to be a Glock pistol in his right hand.

Max was first to notice him: "It's okay Jake, nobody's been injured."

Jake noticed that Max's tone was cool and measured, exactly what he would have expected from a man with years of experience, his demeanor calm and collected, as he innately took charge of the situation.

Having heard his dad's voice, JD slipped out the back door with Jason close at hand, until they stood beside Jake, both anxiously surveying the situation around them.

At first, JD's eyes sought out his dad and Carl letting out a sigh of relief when he saw them huddled together with his Uncle Hank, all three talking in hushed whispers to each other while glancing across the patio into the side yard.

Before he had even noticed her, JD heard Jason cry out: "MOM are you okay!?"

JD could feel Jason tear away from his grip and rush to his mother's side, noticing her himself for the first time and realizing why Jason's outburst sounded so concerned, she looked awful, a condition that only worsened upon seeing Jason kneel before her grasping at her hands, fear, and trepidation dominating his facial features as his eyes searched her body for any signs of physical damage.

"No, no, no..." she kept repeating over and over again as her eyes widen at Jason's sudden appearance before her.

Jake watched as she snatched Jason's hands between her own as she struggled to stand up dragging Jason with her: "You've got to get out of here Jason, it isn't safe..." she babbled almost hysterically, maneuvering herself protectively between Jason and the group of men less than ten feet away from them.

The wild panic in her eyes gave way to near madness as she began frantically tugging at Jason's arm trying to pull him further away from the group of onlookers.

What was now clear to Jason was that something or someone had freaked his mom out or hurt her in some way, he resisted her incessant and desperate pulling to brush past her, intending to confront the trio of men in whose company he had left her in.

"What did you do to my mom?!" Jason demanded, his voice only slightly less than a yell, aimed directly at Max Donnelly, every muscle in his body now taut, poised for action at the slightest provocation.

Max took a step toward Jason, a look of concern on his face, looking as if he meant to embrace the young man and soothe away his concerns.

But just as Max was about to speak to him, Hank Bauers cried out behind him: "Baa...Bannor...is that YOU!?"

Before Max could even turn to glance back at his old friend, Hank had pushed past him until he stood just a few feet away from Jason Dunne, who now glowered back at him, his rage partially suspended as he glared into the ashen-faced man now scrutinizing him up and down with a near manic look subsuming his visage.

"No this can't be..."Hank jabbered, his mouth nearly hanging open, squinting his eyes as if he was having trouble focusing: "I watched you die..... Russel and I were there when your father buried you!"

Max reached out to Hank, his hand clasping his shoulder tightly, he had never seen Hank Bauers this shaken before, looking at the boy before him like he was some kind of ghost, risen from the grave.

Jason reared backward a step, wondering who this man was that seemed to be babbling incoherent nonsense at him.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jason demanded, his own face a questioning grimace as he felt his mother's familiar hands clutch at his left arm and once again began tugging at him desperately.

"Jason don't listen to him, we have to get out of here..." her voice sounded maniacal and disjointed, completely devoid of her usual calm, clinically detached composure.

He turned toward her briefly, noting instantly the near terror written in her eyes, as she repeatedly urged him to leave with her.

Jason's face contorted into a scowl of concern as he tried to focus her attention back on him instead of on the man who stood just a few feet away from him staring at him with watery tears in his eyes.

"Mom..,?" Jason implored: "Who is this man and how do you know him?" what he really wanted to ask her, was why did he think he knew him.

Jason suddenly felt a large comforting hand clasp his shoulder from behind and he turned slowly as if time itself was coming to a standstill until his eyes inexorably locked with Max Donnelly's, whose calm, deep soothing voice assuaged the frenetic chaos around them: "Jason, I think I know enough now to answer all of your questions."

With JD by his dad's side peering worriedly at him, Max gestured toward the house.

Jason also saw Carl and Jake embracing the man who had confused him with someone else, watched as the man sobbed in their arms.

He quickly turned toward his mother's still pleading, tear soaked face, which was now succumbing to a forlorn look of anguished despair as Max Donnelly gently guided him away from her and toward the back door of his house.

He watched as Timmy Anderson wrapped his arms around her consoling her and wiping away the tears from her face as Max escorted him and JD through the back door and away from all drama and turmoil, Max's hand firmly pressed against his back comfortingly, his deep soothing voice filling his ears with words he had often longed to hear: "Jason, I think it's time you learned who your father is."