Just for fun: Wambam

[baileymoyes]

From the case files of Wambam International: Nether Division

Dossier One: A More Perfect Union
Warning: This report contains OCs, plenty of cheese, material rated XXX and graphic man on man action.

The whooping screams of the proximity alarm reverberated throughout the vast underground complex of Wambam International’s Nether Division. Bright lights snapped on, illuminating the smoothly functional yet pleasingly aesthetic warren of offices, laboratories, and private quarters connected by a network of tunnels. The buried compound, masked by a functioning ranch on the surface, was home base to a team of uniquely gifted men, and its precincts were sacrosanct. This was the first time since installation that anything other than a deliberate drill had activated the extensive security system. The six residents of the compound known as WIND were understandably concerned when it went off at three in the morning.

:::::::::::::::

“Now they know we cannot be defeated by the wielders of dark arts!” A warrior who resembled nothing so much as man-shaped measure of mercury held aloft an enormous sword. The mighty weapon throbbed with scintillating silver sparks before a shaft of pure light erupted from the tip to penetrate the heavens.

“You’re rootin’-tootin’ right about that, Argento!” crowed the winged Ganymede hovering at the naked swordsman’s shoulder. “We sure kicked their ass good.”

“As long as we defend it, this world shall never succumb to evil, Fairion.”

“Sure, sure, that goes without saying, big guy,” floating Fairion replied. “We vanquished the evil wizard; now it’s time to celebrate.”

“You’re rootin’-tootin’ right about that, my fairy friend,” said Ryder Wood, his eyes glued to the X-rated animation on his massive computer screen. His hand was curled around his hard cock as he watched the sleek-muscled silver-metal swordsman have his way with his lusty elfin sidekick. Cartoons are not subject to physical limitations and the artist that created Ryder’s favorite erotic serial, Slutty Danger Duo, took full advantage of the fact. Argento and Fairion were impossibly limber and well endowed, and when they came, it was like worlds colliding, complete with erupting volcanoes, surging oceans and exploding stars. Their adventures weren’t particularly well scripted in the first place and the English dialogue version featured a translation so bad it was comical, however the artwork was outstanding and the sex was sweet as well as hot. Ryder would never confess it to anyone, but his favorite bits were when Argento cuddled Fairion like a teddy bear.

“Oh yeah. Give it to him, Argie old boy,” Ryder urged the superhuman figures that were entwined and undulating amid the medieval looking ruins of an alien civilization. “Yeah. Give him all you’ve got. He can take it. Yeah. Oh yeah. Pound that ass. You love it, don’t you, Fairion? You love that big silver dick plowing your cute little ass.”

The pastel palette of light from the big screen painted Ryder’s milkweed fluff hair in cotton candy colors as he leaned closer. Fairion’s dragonfly wings beat furiously as he climaxed and his pumping rod showered the air with iridescent drops. Argento stood up, spinning the elegant creature on his quicksilver cock and a quiver ran through Ryder’s slight frame at the confident way the big warrior handled his partner. The young man felt the out-runners of a powerful orgasm race through his groin as Argento wrapped his mirror bright hands around Fairion’s waist and thrust deep. Fairion’s wings fluttered, holding him up as he spread his arms and legs. Argento pistoned in and out to a staccato rhythm until he came, launching a laughing Fairion off the end of his spurting cock like a champagne cork. Ryder’s breath came fast and shallow as the waves of pleasure at his center neared a towering crest. At the very peak, the mood was shattered as the erotic images and cheesy Asian pop music were replaced by the security program’s logo and the audio alarm.

Cursing under his breath, Ryder automatically noted the time as three oh one a.m., as he stabbed at the key that lowered the volume. The ear-piercing peals faded from the control room as Ryder addressed the computer. “Show incident,” he barked and the screen changed. Ryder stared in consternation as he tucked himself back in the fly of his flannel pajama bottoms. “What the hell?” he murmured.

* * * * * * * * *

“Hot damn!” Rancher Monroe McQueen’s mount bucked under him, twisting left and right, tossing his head, eyes rolling, nostrils flaring and mouth wide open, gasping for breath. Monroe rode like a sailor on a tilting deck, firmly in the saddle, intensely alive with the pleasure of moving in harmony with the bunch and stretch of lean muscles between his legs. Grasping a fistful of the silky black mane, he brought the flat of his hand down on the sleek, sweating flank with a sharp smack. “This is like fuckin’ a Texas twister.”

“Shit-fire, Monroe! I don’t know what you’re doin’ with your tallywhacker back there, but I sure do like it.”

Monroe gave the rodeo star he was banging another slap. “Look who’s talkin’. I don’t know what the hell you’re doin’ with your asshole, Lee, but it’s about to make me cum.”

“Touch my dick just once and I swear I’ll explode.”

The ranch owner pulsed his hips, pressing the other man’s hard cock against the rough wool of the saddle blanket thrown over a bale of timothy. The bronc rider groaned, flexing his buttocks, sliding up and down on Monroe’s shaft, trying to dry hump the cube of sweet-smelling hay.

“Whoa there,” Monroe said, pulling his rod from the clutching socket. “Don’t run for the barn just yet. We got some more fancy ridin’ to do.”

Lee Longspear’s thick black hair fanned out over the red blanket as Monroe flipped him onto his back. Leaning in for a nuzzle, Monroe gazed into his current lover’s dark eyes as he deftly reseated his cock. The rancher nudged teasingly at the glistening entrance, watching the other man’s obsidian gaze melt in the heat of his need.

“C’mon,” Lee panted. “We’re in the chute. Let ‘er rip.”

Monroe’s shy grin made a rare appearance. “You sure do know how to rile a man up.”

Lee pushed his fingers into Monroe’s thatch of sun-bleached hair and pulled his head back down for a kiss. With a long moan, Monroe sank his hard shaft into the deliciously yielding wet heat as Lee tongue-fucked his mouth. They were so physically compatible that each was beginning to think he’d struck lasting gold after only a few trysts.

“Aw, hell no!” Monroe gritted his teeth as his communicator vibrated at the frequency reserved for a security breach. “I got a go.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

Monore yanked up his jeans and buttoned them, casting a regretful glance at the six foot plus of wild and handsome draped over the bales of hay. Lee didn’t help matters by taking himself in hand and pumping his ten inches from root to leaking tip.

“Nope, I’m not kiddin’, amigo, but I am real sorry.” Monroe shrugged into his denim jacket, balling up his pearl snap shirt and stuffing it under his arm, in constant motion and headed for the stable door. “See you again?”

Lee let his darkly tanned legs loll wide. “You get one rain check with me, stud. One.”

Monroe swallowed hard. He’d had many men in many ways, but this one touched him on a level that was deeper than skin. And it had been a long time since Monroe had felt this fluttering stir at his center. Regretfully, he tore his eyes from the almost painfully arousing sight of the rodeo rider toying with his hole. “This had better be an extinction level emergency,” he muttered, as he left at a trot.

Entering his private office, Monroe twisted the set of bull horns on the wall to open the secret panel behind his desk. He stepped into the darkness of a small empty closet and the door slid closed automatically. A few moments later his stomach joined him at the bottom of the express elevator shaft and he emerged into Command Central.

* * * * * * * * *

“I never thought I’d see anybody as beautiful as you,” Reeve Russell said. “Until you introduced me to your brother.”

Identical twins Nipsey and Tucker Wilton grinned at one another across the big man’s sculpted body. “Double your pleasure,” they said simultaneously.

Reeve raised dark brows above eyes as warm and lambent as amber. “You two will be the death of me,” he sighed. “But I’m enjoying every second of torture.”

“Good, ‘cause we just got started,” Nipsey said. “Drop him down a bit, Tuck.”

Tucker turned a shiny chrome crank and lowered the contraption of straps and bars and shiny buckles that kept the muscle man suspended face above the floor of the workout room. Reeve’s wrists and ankles were shackled far apart and all the best bits were on display, easily accessible in their frames of leather and stainless steel. The twins had taken their time trussing him up and his cock was hard and pointing roughly toward the mat beneath him. A bead of cloudy liquid formed at the tip of the shaft as Nipsey got down on all fours.

“A little to your left, Nip,” Tucker directed his brother. “That’s good. Now spread your cheeks. Yeah. Your asshole looks yummy, all pink and shiny.”

Reeve licked his full lips as the crank let out a notch. He hung just above Nipsey’s back, his swollen cock nearly touching one of the creamy globes of the young man’s perfect ass. If his arms were free, he’d grab a double handful and show these kids a little of his patented jackhammer technique, but he was at their mercy for now. And he loved it.

“Come on, Tuck,” Nipsey demanded. “I’ve been dreaming about how good that big fat cock is going to feel inside me.”

“Hold your horses. I need to change the angle a little bit. ”

“Well hurry up. I’m this close to being bored.”

Reeve started to roll his eyes at the spoiled brat’s whining, but when Nipsey turned over, leaning on his elbows, and sucked the head of Reeve’s dick in his mouth, bad behavior was quickly forgiven. “Incredible,” Reeve breathed, as a lively tongue swirled under and around the rim of his foreskin. “Best head I’ve ever had. Nearly shocked the life out of me when I found you under my table at that Embassy dinner, but I’ve never regretted letting you suck me off during the second course.”

Tucker snorted. “Just wait’ll I get my mouth on you. You’ll think you died and went to Hoover Heaven.”

“Whatever,” Nipsey mumbled against Reeve’s weighty sack.

“Who took you by the ears and showed you how to give a decent blow job?” Tucker retorted.

“That is such bullshit.” Nipsey nibbled and sucked his way up the fat vein on the underside of Reeve’s thick shaft. “I’m a natural at cocksucking.”

“Just let me make a couple more fine adjustments,” Tucker said. “And I’ll prove who’s the head master here. I’m a cocksucking virtuoso.”

Reeve groaned deep in his massive chest as Nipsey engulfed him to the root and swallowed several times in quick succession. “Have mercy,” the big man moaned.

“I taught him that,” Tucker said as he gave Reeve a little shove, cramming the bound man’s cock farther down Nipsey’s throat.

Nipsey’s head flew back, his corn silk hair flying out like dandelion fluff as the back of his skull hit the well-padded exercise mat. Reeve swung back in the opposite direction, pulling his length from Nipsey’s mouth with a popping sound.

“Asshole!” Nipsey sputtered, getting to his knees.

“Whatever,” Tucker stifled his giggles. “It was funny, and I’ll make it up to you.”

“Is it always like this with you two?” Reeve asked, wondering if the drama was worth the world-shaking orgasm he anticipated. The twins were the rich, thin and blonde type that was catnip to Reeve, but their amusing waspishness was beginning to seem like mere immaturity and Reeve had no patience with a mercurial temperament. Moodiness had no berth on the team of a racing yacht, where split second timing could mean the difference between victory and defeat, or life and death, and orders had to be obeyed without question. On the other hand, Reeve couldn’t spend all of his time building ships and pursuing trophies, he needed other diversions, and a submissive lover would bore him in a short time.

“Did I say you could ask questions?” Tucker pinched Reeve’s right butt cheek. “I was mean to Nip and you’re going to make it all better. Understand?”

Reeve nodded, topaz eyes shining with excitement again.

“Good boy.” Tucker ran his hand down Reeve’s crack, squeezing his balls before pressing his dick to his belly and out of the way. “Nip, assume the position.”

Nipsey got down on his hands and knees and crawled back under Reeve. Tucker let go of the big man’s arousal and it thumped onto Nipsey’s ass with an audible slapping sound. Nipsey wiggled his hips, rubbing the hard rod that burned against his skin, as Tucker got to his knees.

“Shit, I can barely get my hand around this monster,” Tucker said as he gripped Reeve’s shaft. “You pump iron with your dick too?”

“Am I allowed to answer questions?” Reeve said in a strained voice.

Tucker laughed again and this time the sound was charming. “Nip was right. I like you, iron man. Now let’s see if that big cock is all show.”

“What’s taking so long?” Nipsey looked over his shoulder.

“Chill, slut,” Tucker said. “And open wide.”

Happily, Nipsey grabbed his ass cheeks and spread them. Tucker rested an arm on his brother’s lower back and took hold of Reeve’s shaft. A thin string of thick fluid connected the tip to Nipsey’s skin before Tucker caught it on his tongue and followed it back to its source. Every muscle on Reeve’s impressive physique stood out in stark relief as Tucker gobbled his cock like a snake swallowing a mongoose.

“Jee-zus!” Reeve gasped. “Another second and I’ll be no good to your brother.”

Tucker let the hefty rod slide from between his Cupid’s bow lips, leaving it gleaming with a mixture of spit and pre-cum. “I love the way you taste,” he drawled. “And I’ll be back for more.”

“Not much I can do about it, tied up like this,” Reeve hinted.

“That’s right. And don’t forget it.” Tucker smiled impishly at Reeve before placing a hummingbird kiss on the tip of his rock hard cock. “And now I think we’ve made Nip wait long enough.”

“Finally,” Nipsey said in a long-suffering tone.

Tucker took hold of Reeve’s arousal again and dragged it up and down Nipsey’s crack a few times. Nipsey squirmed and moaned in unabashed hunger, his hole flexing eagerly as his brother gave the chrome crank one more turn. Tucker savored the sight of his prissy twin spread open and begging for it alongside the Greek god bound in black leather who had the sweetest cock Tucker had ever tasted. Once again taking a firm grip on the rosy column of flesh, Tucker seated the tip at Nipsey’s entrance.

“Please,” Nipsey choked out.

“My pleasure.” Tucker guided the head of Reeve’s cock through the entry and a couple of inches into the tight passage. “Stay like that for a minute,” he said, springing to his feet and moving behind Reeve to stand between his thighs. Cupping the hard muscles of Reeve’s ass, Tucker leaned forward, driving Reeve’s cock deeper into Nipsey. “Happy now?”

“More.”

Tucker worked his thumbs into Reeve’s crack, rubbing at his hole as he let more of his weight rest on Reeve’s broad back. Nipsey groaned as the thick cock stretched him to his limits. Reeve clenched his teeth to keep from yelling at Tucker to get on with it; the shivery anticipation and burning need for just a little more stimulation were part of the game and Tucker was proving even more apt than his flexible, insatiable twin. All the young man lacked was experience and Reeve could give him that.

“Are you ready for me, big boy?” Tucker growled.

Reeve tensed as his ass cheeks were parted and a well-oiled thumb pushed into him. “What difference does it make if I’m ready?” he panted. “You’re going to fuck me if that’s your pleasure.”

“Right,” Tucker caught himself. “Ready or not, here I come.” He paused and smirked. “Well, maybe not just yet, but I am going to fuck you now.”

Reeve tingled with excitement as he felt the hot hardness of Tucker’s cock head nudge his hole. The thought of the gorgeous blonde thrusting into him and propelling his own dick deep into Nipsey was almost unbearably arousing.

“Hey, Nip,” Tucker said. “Brace yourself. Diesel dick is coming in to the station.”

Reeve bit his lip, almost drawing blood as Tucker stretched the moment out. Just when he thought he would burst his straps with a scream of sheer frustration, his emergency security beacon implant went off. “Get me down,” he said instantly.

“I’m giving the orders here,” Tucker said, smacking Reeve on the ass.

“Get me down,” Reeve repeated. “Now.”

The tone of the big man’s voice sent a quiver of fear and pure erotic excitement through the twins in a battle of warring instincts. They had planned on releasing Reeve when he’d been aroused to a primitive level of desire guaranteed to leave them bruised and aching and deliciously fulfilled, but the muscle man’s aura of command was so potent that Tucker jumped to free him from the hammock. Nip whimpered as Reeve’s thick cock withdrew, but he rose instantly to help his brother. With nimble fingers and well-practiced moves, they had Reeve out of the harness in record time.

“Believe me, this is not by choice,” Reeve said, smoothing back the waves of his thick chestnut hair. “However, I do have to go.”

The twins gave him identical looks of smoldering need.

“You’re killing me, but I really have to go. Please make yourselves at home on the yacht until I get back. The staff is familiar with my habits and will take good care of you.”

Tucker looked from Reeve to Nipsey to the empty harness. “Hm, however will we pass the time?”

“Practice!” Nipsey answered promptly, his eyes going to the rack of dildoes.

When they turned back to Reeve, their host was nowhere to be seen.

* * * * * * * * *

The crowd could still be heard chanting Taylor Presley’s name through the dressing room wall. The singer had done three encores and was up for more, but he knew his band was exhausted and the groupie that was lavishing attention on his crotch was very sincere in his enthusiasm. Taylor slumped in his chair and moved his feet farther apart to make things a little easier.

“That feels really good,” the rock star said, as warm fingers squeezed his bulge.

“Just wait until I get your pants off.”

“Before your mouth is full, you want to give me a name?”

A toothpaste ad smile lit up a boyish face. “The name’s Joe Robert Hall, but my friends call me Jory.”

“And we’re gonna be friends, aren’t we, Jory?”

“I sure hope so, Mr. Presley.”

“No relation to Elvis, and my friends call me Taylor.”

Jory looked up from unzipping his idol’s leather jeans. “Awesome.”

“I know this is a bit of a buzz kill, but you are eighteen, right?”

“I’m twenty-two.” Jory’s light tenor had a wounded sound.

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Taylor sat up and met Jory’s eyes. “Maybe right now you don’t like looking younger than you are, but some day it’ll be an advantage. Trust me.”

Jory was lost in the depths of Taylor’s vivid violet eyes. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Taylor smiled his glittering scimitar smile that had graced countless magazine covers. “So… you like my music.”

“You rock the most.” Jory affirmed, his gaze following Taylor’s treasure trail to the dark vee of hair revealed by the open trousers. “I’ve been into you since the beginning.”

“Which brings up something I like to be clear on before we go much further. If you want to be into me, literally, that’s all good, or if you want me to get into you, I’d get off on that just as big.”

“I want to do everything with you.”

“Then we’d better get started,” Taylor chuckled.

Jory he reverently took hold of Taylor’s cock and pulled it from his jeans. “Whoa! I thought you were padding your crotch a little, you know, just for the stage, but shit! This is real and it’s all you!”

“What you see is what you get.”

“I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m back stage with Taylor Presley actually touching his dick. Your dick. This has been my dream for so long.”

“Or since puberty, at least, right?”

“Huh?” Jory looked up again, his lips a breath away from the tip of Taylor’s handsome cock.

Taylor’s gaze was enigmatic in the shadow of his spiky black bangs. “Would you rather do this without all the talk?”

Jory’s swimming pool blue eyes went opaque as he pondered the question. “Talking’s okay,” he decided.

“Are you curious about why I picked you?” Taylor’s question ended with a sharp gasp as Jory lapped a circuit around the head of his cock.

“I’m just glad you did,” were Jory’s last words for a while as he took Taylor’s dick into his mouth.

“You know you’re a looker, right?”

Jory rolled his eyes, conveying his embarrassment at compliments.

“It’s good you’re not conceited, but don’t be ashamed of a gift like physical beauty. It doesn’t have less value than any other trait we’re born with. It’s what we do with our talents that defines us.”

Jory nodded, his head bobbing on Taylor’s shaft and the singer’s grip tightened on the arms of his chair.

“I’ll get to the point,” Taylor continued when he caught his breath. “It was the expression on your face that caught my eye. I could see the music moving you and the way it made you feel, the way you couldn’t be still, the way your grin lit up the arena like sunrise. I felt connected to you, and I thought you felt it too.”

Jory swallowed hard and let the rock star’s hard shaft slide from between his lips, but keeping it firmly gripped in his fist. “Hell yeah, I felt it. I thought I was high, but then I remembered that I didn’t drink or smoke anything before the concert.”

Taylor leaned forward until his forehead touched the other man’s. “That’s the vibe, baby “That’s the energy that flows between two people when they’re meant to be together,” he murmured. “They could be best friends, or they could be lovers, but they go together.”

“I don’t exactly know what you’re talking about, but I like the way it sounds.”

Taylor ran a hand through Jory’s jackstraw mane. “So… you’re open to possibilities?”

“With you? Hell yes!”

“Awesome,” Taylor said, meaning the word in every sense. “Let’s make love.”

Jory’s head tipped to one side in a mannerism irresistibly reminiscent of a large breed pup hearing some mysterious noise. After a moment, his ice cream smile broke out again. “I like the sound of that, too,” he said, diving on Taylor’s cock.

Taylor gave way to the kid’s Tasmanian devil approach, lounging back and letting him look and touch his fill. Jory rucked Taylor’s black silk t-shirt up to his armpits and sucked his way along the rock hard abs to the gentle slopes of broad pecs topped with mouth watering peaks. Taylor hummed appreciatively as Jory sampled candy pink nipples while fondling his upstanding rod. “How about a kiss?”

The delighted look that transformed Jory’s face warmed Taylor to his core. Their mouths met a bit harder than either intended, smashing lips against teeth, but neither minded. After a couple of bruising collisions, lips parted and tongues sparred eagerly, thrusting and sliding in a preview of coming attractions.

“Wow!” Jory breathed as he drew back a little.

Taylor stood abruptly, catching Jory under the armpits and pulling him up. Letting go of the young man, Taylor hastily refastened his trousers and yanked his shirt down.

“What’d I do?” Jory asked.

“You did everything just right,” Taylor answered, shrugging into a hot pink dinner jacket and checking the pockets. “But something came up that I can’t ignore.”

“Will I see you again?”

Taylor turned at the door, pulling his long night dark hair into a ponytail. “Do you want to see me again?”

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“Then I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The door opened on a wash of sound and Taylor was gone. Jory gave his aching hard on a consoling squeeze and went home to jerk off, using one of Taylor’s scarves that he took as a souvenir.

* * * * * * * * *

“Mon Dieu! Mon mari!” International movie star Celine Gateau was shocked into using her native tongue.

“Your husband?” Grant Bardot lifted his head from the valley of Celine’s world-class tits and looked around.

A middle-aged man whose tailored suit accentuated his muscular physique was standing a few feet from the large bed where Grant was lodged approximately six inches deep in the voluptuous Frenchwoman. Making a hasty retreat, Grant gallantly let Celine take the sheet as she scrambled away from him to the other side of the mattress.

“Monsieur Gateau?” Grant spoke first, keeping his warm baritone pitched low.

“My name’s not bloody Gateau, mate. It’s Lester, Barry Lester, if that means anything to you.”

Grant nodded, a lock of auburn hair falling over an eye the bright turquoise of coastal waters. “Bazza the Basher: the middle-weight boxing champion of the Southern Hemisphere.”

Bazza cracked his knuckles. “So how do you want it, sport? One knockout punch to the gob, or a man-sized beating?”

Instead of tensing at the threat, Grant grew more relaxed. Despite the fact that he was bare-assed naked and caught red-handed, the man acknowledged worldwide as the most skilled arbitrator in any milieu spoke as calmly as if he faced a board of directors across a conference room table. “May we discuss those options for a moment?”

“Discuss? Mate, I’m gonna rearrange that pretty face of yours until no woman will even look at you much less shag you.”

Grant continued to speak as he slowly turned onto his back. “I can understand why you’d choose this course, but I wonder if you wouldn’t like to hear an alternative proposal that would satisfy everyone concerned?”

The crag-and-cranny-faced bruiser glared suspiciously at Grant, his forehead laddering up to his scarred and shaven pate. “Don’t try and distract me, sport. You’ve got a bashing coming to you, and I’m the man what’s gonna dish it out.”

“Of course.” Grant’s well-modulated tones were as soothing as an oboe solo by Mozart as his hand crept toward his crotch. “No one disputes that, but why limit yourself to one course of action?”

Bazza’s head whipped around as Celine made a dash for the bathroom. “Not so fast,” he snapped. “What’ll our guest think of our manners if the hostess runs out on him?”

Celine froze, clutching the sheet to her chest. Her big green eyes had the shape, the luster and the disdain usually associated with pedigreed Persian cats. “I’m going to get dressed,” she said icily.

“No, you’re bloody well not. Not until this is sorted out. Unless you was bein’ raped?” The pugilist’s tone plainly conveyed his sarcasm.

“It’s true that Celine and I are equally to blame,” Grant began, before Bazza cut him off.

“You married, sport?”

“No, I’m not, as it happens. Are you proposing?”

The boxer snorted. “You’ve got a pair,” he said. “And you aren’t cheatin’ on your wife. You seem like a decent bloke, but you can see why I can’t just let this go.”

“Absolutely.” Grant cradled his half a hard on in his palm, stroking it absently with his thumb. “I won’t put up a fuss. You caught us in the act and clearly have the right to take a swing at me, however…”

“Hey!” Bazza broke in. “What are you doing?”

“I’m having a wank as the Brits say.”

“Well, stop it right now. That’s disgustin’, that is.”

“I don’t think I should,” Grant said, languidly pumping his long cock. “You see, you came in at a most inopportune moment and now the situation has turned so exciting that if I don’t cum, I’m afraid I might rupture something.”

Bazza stared as if entranced by the rhythmic motion as Grant’s long, tapered fingers shuttled up and down. “Your dad done you proud,” he said grudgingly.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t mind seeing what you’ve got to work with.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“How long is this closeted, macho posturing going to go on?” Celine wondered aloud.

Grant smiled. “The lady’s time is valuable,” he said. “I’ll cut to the chase. As satisfying as it would be for you to give me a thrashing, wouldn’t it be more poetic if you shagged me? Don’t give me a reflex reaction; think about it for a minute.”

Celine laughed the throaty laugh that had been tightening groins in darkened theaters for almost a decade. “Save your breath, darling. Barry’s much too bourgeois for that kind of action. I’m afraid we’ll both just have to face the music.”

“Let me expand upon my proposal,” Grant said, getting to his hands and knees. “You get to pound my ass while Celine here sucks my cock.”

Bazza’s tongue came out to moisten his lips as he gazed on the sculpted contours of Grant’s velvet-cheeked ass. The thought of driving his root into his wife’s lover while his wife watched on her knees inspired a stirring south of his navel. “What the fuck,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to poke a bloke at least once.”

“Excellent!” Grant said. “Shall we get down to brass tacks?”

“Feast your eyes.” Bazza dropped trou and revealed that the situation was exciting him too. A bulge roughly the dimensions of a frozen juice can was tenting the boxer’s boxers. Pulling his cock through the fly front, the Aussie advanced.

“I can see you’re ready to seal the deal, and I’ll hold up my end, but before the merger goes through, I’d like to request…” Grant paused as his expression changed from cordial to alert. “Rotten luck,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m afraid I can’t dally.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bazza growled as Grant pulled on his tuxedo trousers and slipped his feet into his dancing shoes.

“I can’t walk the streets naked. I’d be arrested.”

“You’re not going anywhere, mate.”

Grant threw his shirt and jacket over his arm. “It’s been both diverting and educational, but I’m needed elsewhere.”

Bazza lunged, aiming a haymaker at Grant’s head. The boxer’s fist met Grant’s palm and was stopped cold. Long fingers tightened inexorably and small bones ground together in Bazza’s hand. Grant sprang forward, smashing the top of his skull into the other man’s nose. Bazza sat rather suddenly. His eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

“Don’t call me; I’ll call you,” Grant told Celine as he stepped over the prone man. “And you might want t o get him a tissue.”

“You won’t call.”

“You should have told me you were married.”

“C’est l’amour,” Celine said as Grant walked out the door.

“Say no more,” Grant muttered as he ran for his limo.

* * * * * * * * *

Monroe McQueen was the first to arrive, dropping straight from the decoy ranch to Command Central. As he stalked into the brightly lit nerve center of Nether Division, he was surprised when the team’s young electronics expert didn’t greet him with a rude and irreverent salutation. In fact, Ryder didn’t even glance away from the screen.

“What’ve we got, Scout?” Monroe asked, taking off his Stetson and setting it on top of the console.

Ryder moved the hat to an empty seat without his eyes ever once leaving the image on his computer. “Check this out,” he invited.

Monroe rested his hands on the back of Ryder’s chair and looked over the whiz kid’s shoulder. “Boy howdy,” he whispered.

“Unprecedented,” Ryder agreed. “Question is: how did this go so far?”

“I got no idea. The alarms should have gone off long before they did.”

“What do we do, boss?”

“Mosey down and have a closer look.”

“We can do that with the cameras.”

“There’s only so much a fancy machine can do, son. I’ll trust my five senses, if it’s all the same to you.”

“You’re in charge,” Ryder shrugged. “Can I go with you?”

“No, you may not. I need you to stay here and keep an eagle eye on things.”

“Of course you do,” the teenager sighed. “What should I tell the rest of the team when they show up?”

“That depends on what happens between now and then.” Monroe grinned as he tousled Ryder’s baby fine mop of frost colored hair.

Ryder’s big doe eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I’m not your son.”

“You couldn’t be that lucky,” Monroe agreed, his boot heels clicking on the hard floor as he strode away.

* * * * * * * * *

“Monroe!”

The cowboy turned to see Tunsall Pierce-Rosen coming toward him at a trot. The British ex-soldier stopped in front of McQueen and looked at him inquiringly.

“Nothing to report yet, Sally,” Monroe said. “Your ward could use a little of your warm and fuzzy routine though.”

“Ex-ward,” Pierce-Rosen said in an ear-pleasing Northern burr. “As of Ryder’s eighteenth birthday, I’m no longer his legal guardian.”

“Don’t remind me, hoss. Want a go take a look at a trespasser?”

The Brit’s red-gold hair caught the light in coppery sparks as he nodded vehemently. “Lead on.”

“The intruder’s in the primary testing lab, but I can’t imagine how he got there without any of the motion sensors tripping until he was smack dab in the heart of the complex.”

“That’s… disturbing,” the former RAF major said with characteristic understatement, as he climbed into the seat of a miniature monorail car.

Monroe got in and the magnetic transport moved silently away, steadily picking up speed as it followed the curve of the outermost tunnel. In moments, the two men were disembarking and hurrying down the access hallway to the sector that housed the laboratories. The closer they got, the more aware they became that something just didn’t feel right.

“Is the air thicker, Sally, or is it me?” Monroe asked, pitching his voice to church level.

“My lungs are starting to burn like I’ve run a marathon. And the light is odd, sort of grainy. Everything looks like a black and white photograph with bad resolution.”

“Yeah,” Monroe said. “That’s what I meant. There’s a weird ‘walkin’ against the wind’ kind a feelin’ too.”

“I don’t like this,” Sally said.

“Want to turn back?” Monroe joked.

“Get stuffed.”

“I don’t have time to hear about your wet dreams. We’re on the clock.”

Monroe forged ahead, with Sally on his heels, feeling as though he were wading in a river of maple syrup. He palmed the keypad beside the door of the lab and the featureless slab of titanium slid aside. Monroe and Sally paused in the wide entrance and stared at the young man floating in the middle of the room.

The stranger didn’t move and appeared to be sleeping on his stomach a few inches off the floor with his forehead pillowed on his bent arm. Long hair the glossy iridescent black of a raven’s wing covered the sleeper’s face, but the rest of him was bare. A faint radiance like the luster of mother of pearl seeped from the intruder’s pores, forming a glowing cocoon.

Monroe whistled low. “Well, would you look at that? If that don’t beat all.”

“Extraordinary,” Sally said.

As they watched, the floating man began to move restlessly. He turned in mid-air, limbs writhing, dark hair sliding like water over a face carved in alabaster. Sculpted lips drew back from teeth gritted in agony and Monroe moved closer.

Sally cleared his throat to counsel caution, but it was too late. Monroe McQueen’s innate need to fix what was broken sent him across the room stretching out a hand to offer comfort. The instant Monroe’s flesh made contact with the stranger’s, the pale radiance flared to encompass him and he knelt abruptly.

“Monroe!” Sally called out sharply, but his friend didn’t acknowledge him.

Monroe slid his hand around the stranger and drew him to his chest. To Sally’s utter shock, the cowboy pressed his lips to the sleeper’s and kissed him passionately. The intruder’s eyes fluttered open, as deep and dark as the spaces between the stars, and focused on Sally. A spark jumped the gap between them and Sally hurried to join Monroe on his knees. Overwhelmed by a force as intangible as air and insidious as poison gas, the two blonde men sandwiched the dark stranger between them and got down to some serious foreplay.

* * * * * * * * *

“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Grant Bardot said, as he caught sight of the trio on Command Central’s big screen.

“Speak for yourself,” Taylor Presley quipped, as he walked in on Grant’s heels.

“I was surprised by the participants, not the act itself,” Grant riposted. “I see our fearless leader and our proper Brit with his stiff… upper lip. The changeling child is at the controls where he belongs, and God’s gift is right behind me, but I don’t see Hercules. Is he the last to arrive?”

A smirk warped Ryder’s childlike features into a mask of mischief. “He sure is.”

“Do we wait for him or deal with the current situation?”

“I’m on it.” Taylor spun and retraced his steps to the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Grant called. “Just in case crude charisma doesn’t do the trick and we want to try logic.”

“Craptastic,” Ryder muttered as the two men left the room. “Once again, I’m stuck playing hall monitor.”

A few moments later, Ryder’s velvet brown eyes widened in wonder as Taylor and Grant arrived at the lab. When the newcomers tried to separate the threesome, they were drawn into the action. “Freaky,” Ryder whispered, his hand stealing down to his crotch, hypnotized by the five man orgy. When his earpiece came to life, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Hey, Junior,” Reeve Russell’s rumbling bass set up a sympathetic vibration in Ryder’s tingling groin. “I’m almost there. What’s all the noise about?”

“Uh, I think you should see for yourself.”

“Must be big. You didn’t even react when I called you Junior.”

“I’ll let you be the judge,” Ryder said, as the door whooshed open behind him.

Reeve crossed the room to loom over Ryder’s chair, but whatever he was going to say about Ryder’s teddy bear pajamas was forgotten as his eyes went to the screen. “What’s the hell is that?”

“You’ve seen an orgy before.”

“True, but I wouldn’t call that an orgy. More like a gang bang.”

Ryder sucked his lower lip as he studied the action again. “There’s so many hands and mouths and cocks that I got distracted.”

“Understandable… given your age and inexperience.”

“Get bent.”

“It’s a definite possibility,” Reeve said. “Since I’m going to the lab.”

“I’m not staying here yanking my crank while you guys have all the fun!”

“I think that’s exactly what you’ll be doing, Junior.”

If looks were daggers, Reeve’s broad navy-blazer covered back would have resembled a pincushion as he left the control room.

“I’m not a kid anymore, you know,” Ryder grumbled as he turned his gaze back to the screen.

“I hadn’t noticed,” was Reeve’s parting shot as the doors slid closed behind him.

* * * * * * * * *

Reeve stroked his chin, calloused fingertips rasping over a heavy five o’clock shadow, as he stared through the observation port at the X-rated game of Twister. He made note of various provocative details: a sleepwalking stranger that looked like a Goth’s wet dream appeared to hang in mid-air, Reeve’s fellow team members surrounded the stranger, rubbing against him with hands, mouths and cocks, the fact that they were all in superb shape and that none of them were jostling jealously for place, amiably giving way to one another. Ignoring Ryder’s warning in his earpiece, Reeve opened the door and stepped inside. The closer he got to the oblivious group of gropers, the easier it was to detect the field that connected the other men. Taking a deep breath, Reeve grabbed Monroe by the biceps and yanked him free of the ménage. Monroe sagged earthward and Reeve caught him, holding him until he got his feet under him.

“Hoo-ee!” Monroe panted, bracing his palms on his knees while he got his breath back.

“Do you feel a subtle vibration in your bones?” Reeve asked.

“I’m tingling all over. Feel like I’ve been just about to shoot my wad for hours.”

“Our friend there is a psychic conduit, and he’s hooked into the erotic centers of your brain. Well, not yours any longer, but the rest of the team is still under his spell.”

“His name’s Harper,” Monroe said. “I roped in a few of his thoughts while I was feelin’ him up.”

Reeve smiled at Monroe’s dry humor, which had seen the team through many a grim hour. “What else did you learn? Or would you rather I free the rest of the men before you brief me?”

“Have I told you that you do a fair impression of Major Sally?” Monroe said. “Go on ahead and pull him out first.”

“For once, having no psychic abilities whatsoever is coming in handy,” Reeve said, as he grasped Tunsall Pierce-Rosen by the wrist and dragged him from the tender melee.

“Strewth!” Sally blew out a big breath. “That was unprecedented.”

“Not really,” Reeve said, slipping a brawny arm around Taylor’s waist and spinning him out of the tangle of limbs. “However, I didn’t expect to see it here.”

“What the fuck just happened?” Taylor coughed out.

“Erotic possession,” Reeve said shortly, snagging Grant by an elbow and swinging him toward Sally. “Catch!”

“What do we do about Harper?” Monroe asked.

Reeve put a hand on his team leader’s shoulder. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s not forget that he invaded our home ground and commandeered our libidos,” Taylor said.

“We don’t know if it was deliberate, or not,” Grant chimed in.

“Right. We don’t know anything. So why not restrain him while he’s unconscious, and then we can let him go if it turns out he’s a good guy?” Taylor countered.

“I agree,” Sally said. “We should treat him as we would any trespasser until we know more about him.”

“I got no sense of inimical intent while I was…” Grant paused and turned his gaze to Monroe. “This is out of my realm of expertise.”

“Right,” Monroe said. “Reeve is our resident expert on extrasensory phenomena and I’m content to let him run this show.”

“Thank you very much,” Reeve said sardonically, belying his excitement at having a powerful psychic to study. “Let’s get him to an uncontaminated, shielded room. And somebody tell Junior he can join us before he implodes.”

“I can hear you,” Ryder huffed over the comm system.

“Then high tail your heinie down to Reeve’s lab,” Monroe said, before addressing the rest of the team. “Okay, boys, take your lead from Herc.”

“You know, I find Hercules a childish and unimaginative nickname,” Reeve said, as he hoisted the stranger’s body in his arms as if the other man weighed as much as the average down pillow.

“Yeah, we know,” Taylor said, as he and the others pulled up their pants and followed Reeve.

* * * * * * * * *

Ryder was waiting when the rest of the Wambam team arrived at the lab where Reeve conducted his research into the paranormal. “Now that we’re all together,” he began before he was cut off.

The intruder abruptly came to life, breaking free of Reeve’s hold and flinging the big man away like a rag doll. He raised his head to an imperious angle, dark eyes half veiled by long pale lids, a sneer marring the elegant curves of his lips as he spoke.

“Now that you are all together, it is my very great pleasure to inform you that you are about to die. My victory would not be complete if you did not know the name of the instrument of your doom. Listen well, insects, and I will reveal…”

“Your name’s Harper Huntwell, bud,” Monroe drawled. “We got that already.”

A hollow laugh filled the shielded chamber. “That is the name of my emissary, or perhaps the term booby trap would be more to the point, shit-kicker.”

“Well, excuse the hell out a me,” the cowboy answered, storm clouds gathering in his sky blue eyes. “What’s your handle then?”

“I am… The Eclipse!”

There was a flurry of eye rolling among the team members at the melodramatic pronouncement. “Oooh-kay,” Monroe said. “And?”

“In a few moments, you will be destroyed.”

“When you say destroyed,” Grant spoke up. “What precisely does that entail?”

“Eradication. Annihilation. Total obliteration.”

“Someone’s got a thesaurus,” Taylor muttered.

“And needs to look up ‘redundant’,” Grant added.

“Very amusing,” Eclipse boomed. “Perhaps the devil will appreciate your wit when you arrive in hell. Do not speak again until I am finished.”

“Sorry,” Taylor said. “Didn’t know you were doing a monologue.”

“Typical super-villain,” Grant shrugged.

“Are you at least going to have the courtesy to tell us how we’ll die?” Sally asked.

Harper Huntwell’s beautiful face contorted as though the Brit had delivered a stinging slap. “Oh please, allow me. I teleported my minion into your sanctuary to lure you and absorb your energy. Now I will use that same energy to reduce you to ashes… No, not ashes. Something even smaller. Dust. No. Atoms. I will reduce you to your separate atoms.”

“Harsh,” Ryder commented.

Reeve put an arm around Monroe’s neck and pulled him into a two-man huddle. “We have to defuse this situation and thanks to our chatty foe, I think I have the answer.”

“You think?” Monroe’s sandy eyebrows disappeared under his bangs.

“I’m eighty-seven per cent sure.”

“Boys,” Monroe gestured to the others to join them.

“We have to safely disperse the stockpile of erotic energy,” Reeve told his comrades. “One of us is going to have to fuck that psychic.”

“Me,” Taylor said instantly, closely followed by the others.

“It isn’t open to debate,” Reeve shut them down. “It has to be me or Ryder, and since I’m a psychic dead zone, looks like Junior’s the default choice.”

“Glad you guys think I’m good for something,” Ryder sulked adorably.

Reeve pulled the young man closer. “Actually, you’re perfect for this job. You’re a sublime bottom and we need someone that can take an enormous amount of pleasure and demand more. You have to drain him.”

Ryder swallowed hard. “No problem,” he said.

“Scheme all you like,” Eclipse laughed. “It will not save you.”

“So you don’t mind if we try to foil your evil plan?” Taylor smirked.

“Any attempt to escape your fate will be a futile one.”

“Sure, sure, that goes without saying,” Ryder quoted Fairion the over-sexed sprite, his favorite character from his favorite show. “Which is why you don’t hear me telling you that you’ll never get away with this.”

“Kid’s got some hair on his balls,” Taylor remarked.

“Aye,” Sally said with quiet pride. “The pup’s got a bite to go with his bark.”

“His old man would a been real proud,” Monroe said, as Ryder stopped in front of the naked invader and looked him in the eye.

“You don’t look so tough to me,” Ryder said, untying the drawstring of his pajamas and letting them fall to the floor. “Why don’t you try some of that psychic vampire shit with me, you wuss?”

“Wuss?” Eclipse yelped.

“You’re the one hiding behind a minion, wimp,” Ryder clarified as he took hold of Harper's hard-on.

“What are you doing, you little hoodlum?”

“Hoodlum? What century are you from? And since you don’t recognize it, this is called a hand job. I’m getting ready to ride your boy like a rented mule and it helps to have something to post on.”

“Don’t get fresh with me.”

“I’m not only fresh, I’m piping hot,” Ryder declared. “And this little dough boy is gonna eat you up all gone.”

“Stop trying to impress us with your devil may care banter and hop on that peg, boy!” Reeve’s vibrant bass boomed out.

Ryder’s fair skin turned pink all the way to the tips of his slightly pointed ears. Rising to the challenge, the young man utilized his acrobatic skills, launching himself in a forward flip that ended with him astride the minion on hands and knees. Eclipse’s puppet lay on his back in leg-sprawling acquiescence, his hard cock jutting up and bumping against Ryder’s arousal. With a subtle rocking motion, Ryder rubbed and rolled his dick over the other man’s in a rousing semblance of lovemaking.

“Um, I’ve got lube if you need it,” Taylor offered eagerly.

“Already taken care of,” Ryder answered. “I had plans for tonight too, ya know.”

“Role-playing again, game-boy?” Grant chuckled.

Ryder didn’t reply. He was getting down to business and his focus had narrowed to the task he’d been set. Squatting over the minion’s midsection, Ryder reached between his legs and took hold of the other man’s dick. With a little wiggling, he seated the blunt head and lowered himself onto the hard shaft. Slowly, but surely, the young man sank down until Harper's thick bush tickled his ass cheeks.

“I’m sure you think you’re smart,” Eclipse spoke up in a rather strained voice. “But my slave is completely under my control.”

“And blah, blah, blah.” Ryder’s elfin features tightened momentarily as he flexed the long muscles of his thighs and rose to settle on his knees. “Talk doesn’t impress me, E. In my world, it’s put up, or shut up.”

“Nothing you can do will affect the outcome of… What are you doing?”

“I call this one the Reverse Rocking Horse. Like it?”

“It doesn’t matter. In a moment, you and all your friends will be…” Eclipse’s speech deteriorated into a long drawn out moan.

“And that’s the Inside-Out Handshake,” Ryder said smugly.

“You’re getting through to him, Junior,” Reeve said. “Don’t get over-confident and rush things. You know Monroe prefers it when no-one gets hurt.”

“No problem. I’m definitely connecting with a second presence.” Ryder dropped to all fours, lowering his face until his eyes were inches from the man’s he was riding.

“Careful, li’l buckaroo. It could be a trap,” Monroe cautioned.

“No,” Ryder said a bit breathlessly as he increased his speed. “It’s not like that, it’s… Whoa! It’s getting closer. Getting stronger. It’s…” The young man’s words broke off with a strangled cry as his cock spurted a powerful stream of cum. Shuddering in the throes of a devastating climax, Ryder tightened and relaxed his interior muscles, inciting the rod that impaled him to move.

“Kid?” Monroe edged forward with the major at his side.

Reeve’s voice stopped them in their tracks. “Don’t touch them,” he said. “You’ll get sucked back into the erotic vortex. You all right, Junior?”

Ryder’s voice was shaky when he answered. “Yeah. I’m fine. In fact, I’m great despite feeling like I’ve had forty thousand volts run through me. Oh boy, here it comes again.”

“Roll with it,” Taylor said helpfully.

Ryder did just that, shifting his weight from side to side, gripping the minion’s shaft with a clenched sphincter as he bounced up and down. “Come on, you sleepwalking sock puppet, cum for me! Cum! Oh! Oh! I don’t believe it! I’m cumming again.”

“Odd,” Reeve said. “Do you feel energy flowing into you?”

“Oh hell yeah! It’s… indescribable.”

“No!” Eclipse shouted. “I will not be thwarted. My plan is fool-proof.”

“We’re no fools,” Monroe said. “Reckon you tangled with the wrong end of the bull.”

“Spare me the colorful folksy language, rump wrangler. You cum-drunk clowns were lucky this time. Maybe I can’t rid the planet of all of you right now, but I can get at least one of you when my minion self-destructs. In one… two…”

“Just a second,” Taylor interrupted. “Did you call us cum-drunk clowns?”

“That’s right, you piss-gargling butt boy. Die!”

“I knew it! You’re Egbert Klipz, aren’t you! I knew there was something familiar about the lame way you talk. Hey, guys, this is that asshole I told you about.”

“Which asshole?” Grant asked archly. “The subject forms a large part of your conversation, after all.”

“The really suck-ass dude my publicist hired to do my hair for that photo shoot.”

“Oh that asshole,” Grant said in a tone of great enlightenment. “You called the Taste Police on him, if I recall correctly.”

“He was coifing without a license,” Taylor answered. “It was my duty to…”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Eclipse shrieked.

“Is that what you Yanks call a conniption fit?” Major Sally asked Monroe.

“You sure got that right,” Monroe said. “In fact, I think he’s gonna blow his top.”

“This isn’t over!” Eclipse vowed. “I will have my…” The threat was cut off as the minion’s face went blank.

“Oh my God,” Ryder moaned. “It’s too... big. Too fuckin’ big. I can’t…”

“Hang on, kid!” Monroe yelled, leaping forward.

Reeve grabbed the cowboy and held him back with an arm around his waist. “You can’t help him,” he said gravely. “Ryder?”

“What is it?” the young man panted. “I’m a little busy right now getting the daylights fucked out of me.”

“Don’t fight it,” Reeve said.

“What?”

“Let it take you. I think your hunch is right. There’s no trap, just a trapped soul.”

With complete trust, Ryder gave up the mental struggle. A cleansing wind of pure erotic energy blew through him, leaving him hollow and ready to be filled with the warmth and light that flooded in behind the storm. Eclipse’s minion surged up from the floor, bearing Ryder down onto his back, legs in the air. Leaning in, the sable-haired sleepwalker began to thrust slow and deep, wrapping a hand around Ryder’s cock.

“Holy crap!” Ryder sang out as the tip of the other man’s cock bumped his prostate entering and withdrawing. “He’s gonna make me cum again.”

“Open yourself to it,” Reeve said. “Accept it and try to absorb it.”

Ryder cried out in wild abandon, his lower belly twitching as another orgasm rippled through his groin. “Okay. Enough!” he surrendered, but the long cock continued to plunge into him with unfaltering rhythm. “Damn it, dude. Don’t you ever cum?”

“Hey, you’re starting to glow,” Taylor told the teenager.

“Great, now my ass is radioactive.” Ryder paused, his doe eyes opening wide, every muscle and tendon standing out in stark relief as he shook and whimpered through another overwhelming gust of bliss that left him limp as a wrung out rag.

“Reeve?” Monroe said.

“Let the kid work. Come on, Junior. I know you can handle this. What would Fairion do in this situation?”

“More! Gimme more!” Ryder shouted at his teammate's prompting. “Gimme all you got! I love it!”

The rebellious minion’s head drooped and his forehead touched Ryder’s chest. Inspired, Ryder grabbed a double handful of the psychic’s thick hair and brought their mouths together. A climax exploded at Ryder’s center like an atom bomb going off. As he melted in the heat of an all-consuming orgasm, he no longer knew where he ended and the other man began. They were one, and it was heaven, it was nirvana, it was good.

* * * * * * * * *

“Ryder?”

Ryder Wood heard his name and reluctantly roused. He was still sleepy and the dream he was having was a very, very good one, filled with non-stop sex and orgasms that involved every part of his being: body, mind and soul. All he wanted to do was turn over and drift back into unconsciousness.

“Ryder! Come on, Junior; talk to me.” Reeve leaned over the kid’s bed, concern evident in the tense lines of his toned bulk though his face reflected only calm confidence.

“You sure he can hear ya?” Monroe asked, hovering at the other side of the bed, next to where Major Sally sat with Ryder’s head in his lap.

“He can hear.” A voice as cool as the other side of the pillow soothed every nerve in the room. “And he’ll be fine. All he needs is rest.”

Brushing the wispy bangs from Ryder’s forehead with a tender gesture, the leader of Team Wambam turned to face his current problem. “Why in the Sam Hill should we take your word for that?”

Reeve put a hand on Monroe’s forearm. “I’m as worried about Ryder as you are, boss, but I think our mystery man saved all our lives.”

Monroe glanced at the striking psychic being kept under guard by Grant and Taylor and a pair of manacles that were Reeve’s invention. “Go on,” he said to Reeve.

“My plan was for Junior to siphon away the energy Eclipse was going to use to fry us. Instead, Harper used the contact to break free. That’s about all I’m really sure of, but I’d stake my fortune and my reputation that Harper is on our side.”

“So you pulled our bacon out of the fire,” Monroe said, facing the stranger directly.

Harper met the cowboy’s eyes squarely. “I severed the connection, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “And I used the power that Eclipse gave me to make it impossible for him re-establish contact without my knowledge.”

“You think he’ll try to?” Reeve asked.

“Of course he will. He despises you.” Harper looked at Taylor. “You most of all.”

“I’m honored,” Taylor answered.

“So this isn’t over,” Reeve said.

“It’ll be a while before Eclipse can regroup and mount another attack. I’m Harper Huntwell, by the way, and I’m glad the villain wasn’t successful in his plan of using me to blow you all up.”

“Yeah, that‘s probably a good thing,” Monroe said. “How’d you get corralled into this mess anyway?”

“I was in a trance, or meditating, if you prefer, when Eclipse found me. He kept my mind and body separate while he perfected his scheme to destroy you. It’s strange; he doesn’t seem particularly bright, but he has a lot of marvelous machines, such as the one that detects psychic energy, and enabled him to track me down. He doesn’t have any special powers of his own, but he’s capable of borrowing, or controlling the abilities of others. While he held me captive, he made extensive use of my gift.” Harper paused and gazed at the young man in the bed. “I’m very grateful to Ryder for his courage. If he hadn’t given control over to me, I would still be a slave to evil.”

“Grant, why don’tcha take those bracelets off our friend here?” Monroe broke the silence that fell after Harper’s speech. “If he’s got any surprises for us, we’ll deal with ‘em.”

Grant unlocked the handcuffs and left his post to come closer to the bed. Taylor followed, leaving their erstwhile prisoner to do as he pleased. Reeve returned to Ryder’s side, taking one of the young man’s hands in his.

“Sorry, Junior,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have asked so much of you. If I could have taken your place…”

“You couldn’t,” Harper spoke up. “However, you can be of great use to him if this sort of situation re-occurs.”

“How?” Reeve asked bitterly. “I have no paranormal abilities. In fact, I’m a dead zone.”

Harper smiled and the severely beautiful lines of his face altered into something seen in the fond daydreams of poets in love. “Hardly. In fact, you’re a battery of arcane power with nearly unlimited capacity. There’s a catch, of course. Only someone whose energy vibrates at the same wavelength as yours can access the power.”

“Are Ryder and I the same voltage?” Reeve asked.

“How can you doubt it?”

“Look, I may be one of the world’s foremost experts on paranormal phenomena, but there’s an awful I don’t know.”

“Then trust how you feel.”

Reeve was quiet for a moment, aware of the eyes of his comrades watching curiously. “We’re compatible too,” he said slowly. “Aren’t we?”

“Indeed, we are and I for one am very interested in finding out what that means.”

“Looks like we better rustle up a spare bunk,” Monroe said.

“You mean it?” Taylor said with exaggerated delight. “We can keep him, Mom?”

“I think we’d be stupid not to,” Grant offered his opinion. “At least until Hercules is through studying him.”

“Looks like we have an opening for a guinea pig,” Reeve told Harper.

“I heard it was a gerbil,” Taylor said under his breath.

The rest of the team ignored the rock star, turning the focus of their attention on the psychic. Harper’s gaze went to Ryder’s sleeping visage, and then rose to meet Major Sally’s bright green stare. With a small nod, Harper saluted the Brit’s protective mien and turned to Monroe.

“I’d be honored to stay for a while,” he said.

“Good,” Monroe said. “I got a feelin’ we’re stronger with you than without ya.”

One by one, the members of Team Wambam, Nether Division, welcomed the newcomer, each in his own unique manner. As Major Pierce-Rosen stood to shake Harper’s hand, Ryder abruptly came to life. Sitting straight up in bed, the young man beamed with cheerful lust as he threw back the sheet and grabbed his arousal.

“We vanquished the evil wizard,” he declared. “Now it’s time to celebrate!”

End of report.