The Brigade

As the conference wore on under the heaviness of high-flown speeches that were dusty from decades of useless delivery, Rahib’s amusement at the thought of fucking Humberto through the puppy following him around turned into a possibility and then an intention. With Hilario, it started with the attraction to Rahib, the man, solid and mature, well-muscled and silent until discussions were at their deepest quandary and then cutting in with the wisdom of many years on the trail and in the insurgent hunt. And those many hard years were etched in the man’s body. The primitiveness of the jungle camp did not accord much privacy, and Hilario saw Rahib in the showers. His body was powerful, his Moro tattooing was intricate and fascinating, his cock was thick, his balls were heavy, and, most intriguing of all, his body was pocked with the medals of combat that can’t be properly symbolized by colorful and shiny baubles.

Only after Hilario decided he wanted to be fucked by Rahib did he start thinking of what a delicious revenge that would be on the unloving and abusive father who had never had a favorable thing to say about the Muslim insurgent leader.

Hilario was the aggressor. Rahib had planned the taking, but he was always deliberate and slow in unfolding his campaigns. Hilario was impulsive and direct. He started by wearing nothing but low-slung jeans and always being in Rahib’s line of vision. His was a lithe, berry-brown, and perfectly proportioned body that came with the delightful mixing of the genes of dramatically separate races. He moved gracefully, like a dancer, and his beautiful body was always in motion. Rahib was not the only man to watch the youth in motion and want to grab that, and hold it, and penetrate it deeply as it slowly melted down at his feet.

On the day Hilario entered the shower room when only Rahib was there and directly asked Rahib if he’d like to fuck him, Rahib turned the smaller, younger man belly to the concrete wall, crouched below him, and willingly thrust his thick cock up into the soft core of his enemy’s son. With each thrust, Rahib declared a death to each person and force that stood between the disparate Philippine revolutionary groups and seizure of the mutually hated, American-influenced government in Manila. Hilario answered, between groans and moans of pleasure, with a pledge of assistance and cooperation. If the Moro leader ever needed him, Hilario said, his insurgent band would be there to help.