After our meeting that day, we all prepared to head down to the club for our defense class. At this point, we were mainly going to keep in practice and help us stay fit. It was also a good way to stay in contact with our friends, not to mention the other regulars we'd come to know. Robert had joined the class shortly after he and Jake became an item. Alex coming with Leonard was a given.
After the class, we all decided to stop at the bar and have a beer. It was unusual for us to do that and we were surprised to see that this time Leonard agreed to come with us. His weakness for alcohol was legendary, but with the rest of us around we didn't expect we'd have an issue. My old Dom was determined when he had a goal and avoiding temptation was a skill of his.
Once inside, the guys headed toward the back of the bar and pulled together a couple of the tall round tables while I ordered a few beers and a diet cola. We sat around the tables to relax and enjoy each other's company.
About an hour later, we heard motorcycles pull up outside. Many of the regular patrons drove motorcycles, but few could be heard from outside. A minute later, the door opened and a half dozen men we'd never seen before entered the bar. Because this was a well-known leather bar, it was not too common for people from the street to arrive in such large numbers. The possibility that this group didn't know where they were going concerned me. We knew most of the regulars, but there were always a few strange faces, just not so many in one group.
We ignored the new men and continued our time together. After a while, Leonard began to look around the bar at nothing in particular. I recognized that as a 'tell,' his unconscious signal that it was time to get him out of there. When Leonard started looking away, it usually meant he was getting uncomfortable with the atmosphere or the smell of draft beer. It was now time to pursue other activities where Leonard wouldn't be tempted.
As we rose to leave, there was a commotion at the bar. One of the men who'd just come with the motorcycle group had Spencer, one of the regulars, by the shirt. His fist was pulled back like he was ready to strike while one of his companions held Spencer's arms from behind.
Seeing boys beating on another boy who was helpless because his arms were pinned was an image burned into my mind from my youth. Our favorite bar was not the kind of establishment where patrons just looked the other way while things like this panned out.
Several of the guys rose to come to his aid, but four of the men from the strange group pulled together, forming a wall to stop them.
The door to the exit was on the other side of the commotion. I looked at Leonard, who was already springing into action. He and Alex were walking toward the four men who'd walled off their friend. Turning his head back, he called out to the rest of us, "Well boys, this is what we've trained for."
Gaining speed, we all pushed our way toward the commotion. Seeing our approach, one of the men from the human wall rushed toward Jake, the smallest of our group. "You just mind your own business," he ordered.
Strangers giving Jake orders didn't sit well with Robert. With a sidestep, Robert filled the distance between the attacker and Jake and awaited his attack. He didn't have to wait long. The stranger pulled back his fist throwing a punch straight at Robert's face. Sidestepping the punch, Robert grabbed the man's wrist, spun around and pulled it. At the same time, he'd thrust his leg across the man's path. The man's own momentum, assisted by Robert, sent him down. Robert spun around and ordered the man to stay down. When he scrambled to his feet, Jake dropped him with a kick to the crotch.
As he lay there screaming, the men who formed the now smaller wall stepped back into a tighter unit. We all continued forward, gaining speed. One of them ordered Leonard to keep out of it only to get a blow to the jaw he never saw coming. Imagining any man giving Leonard an order made me laugh.
We still had two men guarding their friends.
The man who'd been holding Spencer's arms let go and headed toward our group, abandoning his friend who was about to finish what he'd started.
As I prepared to stop him, I was surprised to see Preston cut me off. Kicking a stool aside, the attacker headed right toward him.
I felt an uncontrollable desire to kill, something I'd never felt before or since. If he so much as touches Preston, he's going to die, I thought.
Before I could intervene, the attacker prepared to strike. Time seemed to slow down. I saw the man pull his arm back to smash his fist into the face of my Preston. Knowing he'd likely have a terrible black eye or broken nose infuriated me even more. I was ready to destroy the stranger. After seeing him pin Spencer at the bar, whose only crime was not giving up his spot, he was about to hurt my Preston.
Before his fist was halfway to that beautiful face, Preston's hand came out of nowhere, catching the man's fist. Preston spun around. I saw him catch the man's arm and heard him stomping hard on his foot, but the rest was a blur. A second later, the man was lying on his back and Preston was still holding his arm.
It was apparent the man had no training on how to take a fall. The maneuver took about a half second to complete. It was the very first throw Preston learned from Leonard. He was good at it. The stomping of his foot was his own creative twist. The bar, unlike the gym, did not have a mat. The floor was concrete, painted to make cleanup easier. One of the regulars at the bar, lifted his beer as if he was about to make a toast but poured it on the man's face instead.
With beer running over his face he was infuriated. He jumped up looking for someone to hurt. With a wild expression fueled by rage and shame, he attacked, running for Preston.
It looked like he planned to tackle him. A big man with speed could do a lot of damage to a young man with the frame of a swimmer. I stepped off to the side of the path between Preston and the large man barreling toward him, planning to stop him with a kick to the face. To my surprise, the man let out a gasp and once again hit the floor, this time at my feet. He was holding his side cursing. Jake had spun around and thrown a kick into his side.
Reaching over the bar, I borrowed a draft beer from another regular and, stepping on the man's face just hard enough to pin him to the floor, said, "You move, and I'll crush your ugly face." Then very slowly, wishing he would struggle, I poured it over his face, already wet with beer. "You picked the wrong bar to stop at. You best not mess with us. Consider yourself lucky. If you'd hurt my boy I'd have killed you with my bare hands. You're getting away with injuries tonight. You have no idea how lucky you are."
Cheers rang out from what was now our audience. Spencer was still at the bar, but now that his assailant was distracted, he punched him in the gut with everything he had, bending him in half. The two remaining men were turning back to back, as a defensive maneuver. Seeing three of their friends on the floor had them wondering if they'd bitten off more than they could chew.
Without further word, I gestured to our group to head toward the door, thinking our job was over and wanting to get my boys out.
Leonard reached forward and stopped me. "We're not done. I'm not leaving any of this trash here with our friends."
We turned and faced the two men who remained standing. They were looking around the bar with expressions of horror. They'd likely picked this bar thinking they could have a little fun at our expense. Now their belief in the helplessness of gay men had vanished, understanding that they were in grave danger instead.
Dexter looked up at the remaining men who towered over him. His dominant side addressed the men who stood before him with terror on their faces. "You boys pick up your friends and get out of here before we go all 'Deliverance' on your asses."
Picking their friends off the floor and pulling the original attacker with them, they headed toward the door. Several of the patrons delivered swift kicks to the ass of the man still bent over from the powerful punch to his gut.
Chester, the bartender, held the door open so the men could help their disabled friends exit the bar. One was hopping on one leg with his arms around the shoulders of his friend. Another was walking very slowly trying to avoid the pain from Jake's powerful kick to his groin. The third held a napkin to his bleeding nose and mouth.
Once outside, the men headed toward their motorcycles. The bartender had called the police early on and they were finally pulling into the parking lot. Seeing them get out of their cars, the rest of us, with the help of half a dozen of the other men from the bar, formed a circle around the group, persuading them to wait.
Spencer closed the door to the bar and instructed the officers to arrest the group, gesturing toward the men now surrounded by patrons of the bar.
Two of the officers cuffed the four men who could still walk. The rest went to the aid of the two injured men. While the officers put the four handcuffed men in the back of the cruisers, Leonard quietly instructed the group. "They're going to separate us so as long as you tell them exactly what happened, you can't get in trouble for defending yourself or others." After the men were safely locked away in the police cruisers, the officers began to question us, getting our identities and our version of the evening's events. It wasn't long before we were released to go home.
We hopped in our cars, agreeing to meet at our house.
Since I only had half a beer I drove our car and Leonard drove theirs. I was still trying to balance the image of Preston dropping a thug without a moment of fear and the boy who obediently dropped to his knees on my order. Still, Preston was a physician now. He'd always been tough. He fought his way through life, but up until recently he'd never been physical about it. He was a sub and being a sub is tricky. You have to trust yourself and know who you are. Having a strong self-image is practically required. You also have to trust. These are great qualities, but I'd never seen a connection to self-defense before.
When I first met him, he'd told me not to bother calling him names because he already knew I could do nothing to harm his self-image. I also knew he had the strength to trust me with his will. That was my Preston. I thought Dexter would have it harder, needing to balance subbing to me while still being a Dom to Preston.
I now knew that I didn't have to protect them, at least not physically. They had a different kind of confidence now. They'd never bow to any man in fear.
When we parked the car, Alex hopped out. "Leonard and I are going home. I know you guys are going to want to party, and I don't think he's up for hanging around anymore guys drinking beer."
Preston told him not to worry. "He can have coffee or something."
"I know, but I don't want him to even see it. He's already had enough of that for one night. You guys have fun. We'll see you in next week's class."