They had first met in an insurgent camp outside Yogyakarta in the Indonesian jungle, far from their own country of the Philippines. In the Philippines there was little chance that they would have met, especially while the Americans were still there in force, but even in more recent years when the government had been weak and taken up with internal squabbling. Rahib, long-time leader of the Moro National Liberation Brigade, was seasoned and deliberative and Islamic, and he came from the Moro people in the southernmost island of Mindanao. Hilario, in contrast, was young and vibrant—a regular fire brand—and was nominally Catholic and the result of an excellent mix of native Filipino and Spanish blood and came from the northern island of Luzon.
And beyond this, Rahib and Hilario's father, Humberto, had been political rivals and enemies from the earliest days of efforts by such Third World leaders as Sukarno, Nehru, and Castro to bring all of the undeveloped world together to stand against the Western nations. And in those efforts, these leaders had worked—seemingly unsuccessfully in Rahib's and Humberto's cases—to bring all of the charismatic revolutionary leaders together, and to combine their forces, to stop fighting each other for control over a nation that was in the hands of yet other forces.
Humberto was long dead and his original organization defunct, but out of the ashes of that had arisen another insurgent organization that had become the bane of the Americans and the Manila governments they supported in an urban warfare environment. And the leader of this Philippine Nation Brigade was Humberto's young son, Hilario.
In a never-say-die effort of the old Panchsila doctrine leaders, Rahib and the son of his nemesis were enticed to meet with insurgent leaders from other countries for the first time in a congress of remnant revolutionary groups across Southeast Asia. Hilario was still open to high thinking and had a fire in his belly for change, and he was susceptible to the principles of Panchsila. Rahib who had been around long enough to know that Panchsila stemmed from an effort to keep Islam spreading in Southeast Asia was not.
However, Rahib was sexually attracted to Hilario and could not help but notice that Hilario was attracted to him even more, like a puppy sniffing after a bone. And Hilario was highly sexed and was a pushover for more mature, well-muscled men. The two came together, interestingly enough, for exactly the same selfish reason—disrespect for Hilario's father, Humberto.
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.
And in that strange way of zealots always putting their zealotry at the center of their lives and natural functioning, an exorcism of a mutually hated, long-departed man was consummated, and the seed of future cooperation was sown just as surely as Rahib's seed was implanted deep in Hilario's channel. In addition, the conference attained probably its only success toward meeting its goals—and never even knew it.
For the remainder of the conference, the two very different leaders bedded together, while Hilario endeavored to introduce Rahib to sophisticated and refined sexual positions and Rahib trumped that with lost-to-the-fuck power ravishment. The one technique that Rahib readily absorbed from Hilario's preferences was bondage. Hilario liked to be lightly controlled with strappings and entrapment when he was fucked.
At the end of the conference, ironically enough, while Hilario returned to the Philippines to insert his band of young, energetic insurgents ever deeper into the major Philippine cities and his forces grew, Rahib took his Moro insurgent band to the north island, Luzon. Although in time he was successful in displacing American influence there—especially around the former U.S. service recreation center at Baguio—as the U.S. forces were being pulled out of the region, the toll of combat on his own forces was significant.
As the Americans left, the government in Manila began to take on more of its internal defense responsibilities, and within months of declaring Baguio insurgent held, Rahib's Moro National Liberation Brigade was trapped in the dense forests on the nearby Mount Pulog and the Philippine army was poised to announce that yet another insurgent band had been wiped out.
At that point, Rahib's long-ago rivalry saved his life. A small army of young, inspired hot brands streamed out of the cities and into the highland jungle of central Luzon. The forces of the Philippine Nation Brigade under the leadership of Hilario was reconstituted in the foothills of Mount Pulog and merged with the battered and combat weary remnants of Rahib's Moro band.
The two leaders met, all smiles. They agreed on the spot to merge their forces, without regard to the real differences in doctrine, religion, ethnic origin, and political goals that had made them separate forces. And, not being able to readily agree on a name, they settled on the only shared word in their individual titles, and the combined force now became known only by the bland name "The Brigade."
"We must celebrate tonight," Rahib said with a big grin, knowing full well that the equal nature of the merger was a farce—that to the extent he controlled the impetuous young Hilario's ass canal, he controlled all of the insurgents gathered. He had just rejuvenated his own forces at the mere cost of a title. "We will dine alone, you and I, in my tent."
The look Rahib gave Hilario left little doubt who would be dining on what.
"I should like to bring my lieutenant along with me," Hilario said, reaching back behind him and pulling a tall, solidly built man of greater years than Hilario and most of those in his youthful band forward into the circle of senior combatants. "This is Fernando," Hilario said.
Rahib took one look at the seasoned combatant Hilario had brought forward and at the way Hilario held the man's arm, and Rahib instantly knew that this was competition. He marked himself for a fool for not realizing that the impulsive and randy Hilario would not have a lover, and he decided he needed to establishing the poking order from this new beginning.
"I would love to talk with your lieutenant further and to give him full position in our counsels, Hilario, but I would like this first evening together to be a meeting of the minds of just we two principal leaders. I would be happy to see you at my tent at 7:00 PM, please." And then he turned and left, not bothering to check the glances exchanged between Hilario and Fernando.
