REJOINING SCHUYLER - Chapter 9
Jack Jr.'s Gift
Gay Erotic Fiction
by Simon Mohr
Nothing intended to resemble any person, living or otherwise, exists in this work of fiction. It is for adults. If this material is illegal where you live or you are a minor, please do not read it. All Rights Reserved. Please donate to the Nifty Archive using the donor information on this site.
Jack Darnell-Schuyler Jr. analyzed his name one day at his desk. It wasn't about the 'Jack' part that he wondered. His mom and dad had given him that gift at birth. That's why people called it a 'given' name, he supposed.
Jack's double surname, specifically designed by his parents for him at birth reflected his father's surname, 'Darnell.' They had also assigned the second half of the double surname at birth, the 'Schuyler' piece, his mother's surname. That name reinforced Jack's absolute right to inherit the Schuyler Trust, cementing the fact that he was a direct descendant through his mother to Carol Schuyler. The name turned out to be a gift as well. The Trust became the primary focus of Jack's life though not his only interest. It took the bulk of his time but certainly not the total sum of his interests.
The beneficiaries of the Schuyler Trust, that massive fortune so large that no one could spend it, owned art treasures, stocks, and property that, along with cash reserves, were perfectly capable of breaking or saving entire stock exchanges in crisis. The fortune also included the assets and income from Alain Industries. This Texas-based conglomerate made nuclear fission reactors, each able to supply an entire small country with enough energy to meet all electricity needs using water as fuel. The Trust's assets also included the rare-earth mining site off the African Coast near Angola that prevented China from monopolizing the ingredients needed to produce vital parts of computers. Since Jack had been the last Schuyler by blood relation, he inherited the beneficiary position.
His son, RJ, usually would inherit after him if Jack so chose. At that moment, RJ sat on the carpet by his dad's desk, studying how his building blocks stacked up. RJ looked up at his dad once every minute or so. "See?"
Jack's role was to look over at RJ's construction, then to smile at RJ. "Looks good, champ!" Today, however, Jack had been rethinking what RJ heard and how he (Jack) might respond in a different way to help RJ grow.
He decided he'd try a new response this time. "RJ, Raf and I are proud that you are learning to figure things out so well. Raf loves you. I love you. Is there anything you want to ask me today?"
This new speech reached RJ's ears, and its effect was to freeze his motion. RJ slowly turned his head. Jack could sense that RJ was mulling this over, perhaps not the content of what his dad said, but the change in the response.
For a second, Jack imagined the neurons in RJ's brain making new synapses at a furious pace. "What is dad saying? He doesn't usually say that. Is dad happy or sad? Am I supposed to say or do something now? Does dad need a pat on his arm or anything?"
Each hand grasping a small wooden block, RJ's hands moved up and down in unison in front of him for a few seconds, then relaxed and dropped the blocks. RJ crawled over to his dad and pulled himself up, then reached his arms out to Jack.
Jack's reflex action when he saw those arms outstretched was to take his son up. He gently growled out loud in the hollow of RJ's neck, laid his cheek alongside of RJ's cheeks, and hummed the opening notes to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony in one key.
Then, in a series of passes, first the key of E Flat, the notes 'G-G-G--E Flat,' then in the key of F, the notes 'A-A-A-F,' then the key of A Flat, the notes 'C-C-C-A Flat,' followed by other unrelated keys. Jack had learned music intervals and wanted to instill a solid sense of pitch in RJ by modeling accurate musical distances to him. Jack knew that RJ learned the skill of recognizing musical space ('musical distance' between notes) by repetitive listening. The craft was rarely instinctive in humans.
The initial major downward third interval cascade in Beethoven's Fifth (a rhythm like 'short-short-short-long'), one of the most recognized openings to a Symphony on the planet, was an excellent way to teach babies about accurate musical distance, to 'tune' their neurons initially.
Enough so, that many toddlers exposed often enough, could tell when the opening sequence was off. If they heard 'G-G-G-E' notes without the 'E' being 'flatted,' a mental disconnect would occur, and some would learn to parrot a G-G-G-E-flat' as the correct interval.
A good analogy for a five-year-old would have been to take the child to a pasture, point at a horse and say, "Isn't that a nice cow?" The look from the child would have been an instant frown, an upward look with a sideways turn of the head with a tinge of "Are you putting me on?" followed by "Uh-unh, dad, that's a horse!"
Kids learn these things on a recognition basis, not an "Oh, let's see, there's no udder, but if dad says it's a cow, it must be so." basis. The child, by then, has seen and heard that animal enough times to know the shape of that animal and the sound it makes.
RJ forgot very little. He questioned everything but was not immune to the learning which repetition brings.
His mom had put Jack through a toddler introduction to music class at the White House. He had not ever anticipated it would be a tool he might actually use one day.
Eric was in his suite when the knock came. Jack had thought about the idea of Eric participating in the next 'dad' lottery in Ireland all day between intermittent bouts of signing papers and playing with RJ's blocks with him.
As RJ ate supper with the nanny, Jack walked down the hall and nearly passed Eric's door. Something, impulse perhaps, became overwhelming, and Jack's heart rate jumped up as he knocked. "Coming," yelled Eric. He suddenly opened the door, and Jack was unprepared for the smile and excitement in Eric's voice.
"Hey," Eric's voice dropped a couple of octaves . . . "Jack, come in. You don't fish in these waters much." He groaned inside. 'Fish in these waters?' Was that the best he could do?
"I mean, you hardly ever come to me, er, knock on my door." Shit.
The truth was, Jack had not come to my suite while I was in it. Ever. We had hooked up in Jack's primary suite, his suite, with Joe present, but not alone. Not since college.
Jack looked a little restless, chewing on his lip as though uncertain of his welcome. It was four p.m. Immersed in an art text, one borrowed from the Metropolitan curator whose job it was to liaise with the Schuyler Museum, I had set up a computer link to that office, and many thousands of books were available for loan. Art provenance thing didn't turn me on. Neither did art restoration. I loved European Art history and could sink my teeth into it and occupy my brain easily with art schools through time.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure. Are you thirsty?"
"Just water." Jack seemed like he was thirsty all right, maybe for water, maybe for company. I didn't think he was thirsty for me exactly, but his eyes glanced around like he was trying to get to what he wanted to say.
"Eric," he began, "Do you ever wonder how things might have turned out that night if I hadn't left you?"
I knew where he was going now. Jack had allowed himself to address the elephant in the museum; it must have been on his mind ever since I moved in. I couldn't read him well enough to know where this would end, but I knew he wanted to discuss the subject.
"It doesn't work like that, Jack. None of us can go back."
He flashed a rueful grin. "Any chance you and I could go back a little bit? That talk about being co-fathers got to me, our sperm all happy, swimming together, and I thought about you and your cock all day. Well, your ass also. I wasn't going to stop, then all of a sudden, my feet stepped to your door like iron filings to a magnet."
"What can I do for you, Jack?"
"I want you."
"What do you want?"
"To be with you, to get closer, to remember, to be inside of you, to let my sperm wiggle around in your cute butt, to have you come inside me, too."
"What are you waiting for, Jack?"
Jack's face lit up. "It's ok with you?"
"I wondered when you would come to me, Jack. I was yours before today, and I still am."
I helped Jack out of his suit coat, put my arms around him, and kissed his stubbly chin. He touched my lips gently with his, with tongue tracing my upper lip. Somehow, I opened my lips enough so his tongue could feel my teeth. He rubbed his tongue on my teeth until I opened my mouth to his exploring tongue. A great rush of blood surged to my cock.
Kissing him had always made me hard, and I found that hadn't changed. Jack had ejaculated inside me, Joe as an audience, which had altered the vocal dynamics of that encounter.
Although the physical craving was the same, I felt inhibited with an audience. I couldn't very well tell Jack then that he was the center of my life. What could Jack say back in front of Joe? Jack said to me that he and Joe were a special item since the disaster in college. It was odd since I had no experience competing with a brother, especially, for his lover, who was also my lover.
At the time, it was too weird to process. I could tell during that Jack's being inside me turned Joe on like a light switch. Joe had not been shy about how he felt, and I would have been three kinds of stupid not to notice his signals at the time.
I knew nothing that suggested Joe was a voyeur primarily. I tried to insert my head into my brother's thinking process: "Here is my brother Eric. Jack is flaunting several taboos (doing brothers, hot same-sex action, etc.). Those bits of naughty are wildly exciting."
No, thinking back on that session, my problem was overthinking the pleasure, thinking about my place instead of putting that aside long enough to enjoy the moment. I knew now, after too much thought, that Jack and I had shared what no one else could.
Then, however, the situation had been different somehow and taken away a lot of the intimacy. It was beautiful in other ways, bringing pleasure to my brother vicariously, but the privacy, the closeness, hadn't been there in my head.
As I took my sweat tops off, Jack removed his shirt and tie. I pulled my sweat bottoms. Jack shed his shoes, socks, and pants. I had gone commando under my sweats and stood naked in front of him. I looked at his undergear and saw his hard erection tenting the fabric. I reached out and carefully brought his remaining cotton down, watching him step out of them. I'd seen the magnificent sight before. Full balls were generously hanging below, his rigid wide cock now standing straight up against his belly.
I came closer to his classic face with prominent cheekbones and square jaw, nuzzled his cheek and neck, felt his breath quicken while I licked his nipples, already erect and hard. He lifted an arm, and I swabbed his armpit with my tongue, sniffing and licking the light, normal sweat, satisfying a thirst of mine. I licked my way down the hairy 'treasure' trail to bury my face in his pubes, to inhale the musky fragrance of his balls. My heart skipped a beat or two as I felt my cock become rigid as steel.
Jack groaned. "Keep that up, Eric, and I'll have to take measures."
"Bring them on, stud. We're just . . ."
I didn't, couldn't, finish the sentence. Jack put his cock at my mouth and 'greedy me' damn near swallowed it whole. Jack's hand reached down and over my back to my butt, where his fingers tapped my entrance, making his intentions clear enough. I had no intention of letting him spend into my mouth. I wanted him in my ass.
I raised myself, facing away from him on my hands and knees on my bed. I could hear his breath catch. "I have a gift for you, Eric."
"I like nice things."
I could feel his stubble scratching my ass and his tongue lapping below. He then stiffened his tongue, and I about hit the ceiling.
"I'll give you an hour to stop that, Jack."
"Shut up so I can count the seconds."
Well! My brother had put a little spine into Jack, among other things. I liked the new steel in Jack's approach.
A few minutes later, probably, the fabulous 'hour' of rimming led to Jack kneeling behind me. His velvet pole slid into my welcoming darkness and heat. The natural lubrication and my efforts allowed his cockhead to slip past; then, the last 8 inches was sudden, with Jack applying only a bit more pressure.
It felt like I was full. I was stretched full. At this point, Jack was in charge. I had given that to him by choice, not default or his demand. I had my guy back where he belonged, and that was enough for the moment.
Jack wanted me as I wanted him. He sensed when to begin thrusting.
I turned my head and looked back to see Jack's eyes hooded with lust, opening for a second to catch my glance, then he smiled and winked at me.
A minute later, he leaned over my back and licked my ear. "I'm reclaiming your ass, Eric. From now on, I'm your only fucker unless I say otherwise. You hear me, bud? Your footman isn't your lover anymore. You want to tell him, or do you want me to have a chat?" When I turned toward him again, he inserted two fingers into my mouth.
He stopped after a bit and had me turn on my left side with my right hip flexed upward. Behind me now, his cock re-entered my ass, only now his right arm was free to stroke me everywhere, and leaning over to kiss me was easier. I reached down again to my cock. It had wilted a little initially, but it was recalled to duty quickly with some attention from Jack and me.
We ejaculated within a few minutes of each other. For some partners, these minutes immediately after orgasm can be awkward.
Are we saying the 'love' word, having a post-mortem on the good bits, lying quietly, or actively continuing some level of touch? Do we cry? Do we sleep? Do we begin a 'cleanup?'
My splashes remained on my belly, chest, and face. Jack took me in his arms after he popped out.
"I love you, Eric. Since the day I met you. I love Joe too. I think you and Joe are as fond of each other as brothers can be, short of getting physical. Will you let me give myself to you, all of me? I want to give all of me to him too. I want you both to love me; if and when you both decide, we can sleep and make love together once in a while. I want to share my primary suite with you every other week, alternating weeks with Joe."
"Raf and I have a different thing going as co-dads; with him, the lover thing is coincidental and changing with time as RJ grows. Raf and I will continue to be together sometimes. Sharing isn't his passion, so when he and I choose to fuck there's not a 'love' thing going on. The sex with Raf is more like a fun exercise, not an emotional connection as with you and Joe."
I knew that was a speech Jack had worked on carefully. It had all the hallmarks of a critical speech posed as a question. We had just finished a private, intimate, thrilling round of man sex. Immediately afterward, he'd brought up the subject of my brother and the three of us.
I knew that Jack was setting limits, organizing his sex life as only Jack could plan for the three of us.
He was careful to get consent, not asking for incest. Jack proposed an unusual quad where two brothers privately got and gave their all, individually, separately, and in private, to Jack, who added Raf into the mix as a fourth partner who only hooked up with Jack. He left open an option for Joe and me to decide about fooling around together in the future.
"As long as you give him your best when you are with him . . . and as long as you give me your all when we are together," I told Jack, "It's a win for each of us. Joe and I might compare notes on what we like about you, perhaps distribute an 'in-house' newsletter. We could call it "What Jack's up to This Week.' I might want to be inside you sometimes, and I'll expect you to say yes when I ask. I also will need to watch you and him together sometimes.
I'm not ready to cross over and do him. I desire you, Jack. I love my brother, but I lack the urge, the desire to bring that to some deep physical level."
Jack's eyes widened, and his breathing deepened on hearing that. I didn't know whether he was excited or nervous about what I said.
"OK, Eric. If you ask me when you want to fuck me . . ."
"No, Jack. I will not ask you to fuck me. I'll tell you that I'm going to make love to you. So, it's 'tell, not ask' and 'make love, not just 'fuck.' Cows fuck; lovers make love."
Jack looked at me, a little surprised. "Do you understand, Jack?" I asked.
He looked down, then up into my eyes, and blushed. "Yes, sir, I do."
"Then turn over on your stomach."
Jack looked at me, a curious gleam in his eye. "Do it, Jack," I commanded.
He did. I told him he'd been naughty about ignoring me for so long. I told him I would need to hold him responsible. After the spanking, his ass was red, and happy tears flowed down his face. I rubbed his ass, applied cold gel, and this time I, er, 'loved' him into next week. Jack giggled, cried, and hiccupped his way through, and I climaxed hard and deep in his ass, depositing my unique brand of healing lotion. I had not realized that light BDSM could be arousing and didn't think it would take over my love life, but Jack loved it.
In the sweet moments after love, I told Jack about something that bothered me a little. "You know that I have a small fortune, about $50 million. That didn't come from you; it's my independent property."
Jack nodded and stuck his tongue in my ear.
"I want Joe to have the same amount I have. He'll never earn it as a cop. I don't want you to pay him to be his lover. It gives a cynical message.
"Would you consider giving Joe $50 million from the Trust, Jack? Perhaps with investment advice from the Traders? That would make me very happy. He doesn't know I'm asking you."
"I will tell Sam to make the arrangements tomorrow, Eric."
I'm pretty sure that was the last thing Jack said just before I told him to send for sandwiches and fruit smoothies. He agreed that practice makes perfect in matters of the heart and cock. I told the footman who brought the food to find Joe and hand him a note from me.
"Joe: Jack and I are spending the night in my suite tonight. Any chance you could join us for breakfast in my suite at eight a.m. tomorrow morning? Sharing this hot guy with you makes me feel closer to you. Tonight is my night with Jack. As you already know, he's magnificent in bed. Between us, week by week, I know we can keep him happy. When he and Raf decide to add spice to Jack's adult life sometimes, we will give Jack the space to enjoy his hot sauce. Jack and I will be versatile together. Let's compare notes later for fun. Love you, brother. See you in the morning for breakfast and maybe some visual delight! Eric"
Jack listened, perked right up, and swallowed the rest of his food. Two hours later, after more wild sex, both exhausted, we lay naked on my bed under a sheet, Jack behind me, close, tumescent, clean and dry from a shower; both of us drifting off to sleep, his hand on my ass, his lips near my shoulder.
I could feel his breath become regular on my arm. Just before I slept, I felt his cock give a little jump against my butt and wondered what kind of dream he was having.
The knock at the door of the suite startled me the following day. I opened my eyes and knew I wasn't in my suite. I opened my eyes and saw Eric peering back at me over his shoulder, his eyes dancing. "Up and at 'em, stud."
The footman let himself in. Jack had already mounted me when Joe walked in behind the footman to see Eric and I in flagrante delicto on the sheet. His face was cheerful, and he didn't look surprised. "You fornicating with my bro, Jack? What, exactly, are your intentions vis-a-vis my brother? I'm supposed to tell you I'll hurt you if you hurt him."
"Well, I told him last night that I love him as I love you. I know that the two of you aren't going to be sexually active together, and I told him about my occasional sessions with Raf, RJ's."
Jack didn't miss a stroke while he spoke with Joe. "Eric wants to move forward. I'm delighted to include your brother in our relationship now. Joe, you are mega-important to me, and I love you dearly. I promise I will do all I can to keep your brother happy the way I make you happy and vice-versa."
"Oh, that's all? I thought it might be something important."
"I told him what we'd talked about, Joe. I told him how I feel about you both. I told him a quad could work fine until you two make the decision whether to bridge the gap between you sooner. I know that two brothers may be fond of each other in some ways and never be at a point when they have a desire for each other's bodies."
"I know, Jack. It's consistent with what you told me. So, am I invited to take my clothes off and watch on this side of the bed, Eric?"
"By all means, Joe. Climb on."
Joe got naked and slid up next to us. Within a minute or two of exploring Jack's back and ass, Joe's hands slipped over to Eric. "Hey, stick to your man, and I'll stick to mine."
I noticed Eric's hand was now reconnoitering my back and ass. I felt four hands back there, but until they had made a private decision and hoping to nip the competition in the bud, I kept thrusting and began, "Guys, I have something to tell you."
"The Schuyler Trust, as you may know, consists of a rather bulky collection of assets that someone has to manage. In my generation, that turned out to be me. I'm pretty good at it, as far as 'being good' at spending money goes."
"Oh Christ," Eric interrupted as Jack hit something wonderful deep inside, "you are very good at a lot of things." Joe giggled.
"We ought to know, Eric."
"It takes flashing a credit card sometimes; once in a great while," Jack continued. "I get to buy something with cash, and more boring, I get to sign documents that release vast sums of money to a cause, a business or a politician, sometimes a charity."
"I gave a billion dollars yesterday for Covid vaccines for the Indian sub-continent and north to the Himalayas and over to Pakistan, Afghanistan, Bhutan, Nepal, Bangladesh and down to Sri Lanka. I never meet most of the vaccinated people, but it was the right thing to do."
"Sometimes, I meet the people with whom the Schuyler Trust shares assets. Eric reminded me last night that it would be awkward (no, Eric let me finish) to have two of three lovers wealthy beyond belief and one not. It might look to some like Jack was paying for sex for someone who needed money."
"I'm not going to put a lover of mine in that situation. It is crucial to me after fifteen seconds of consideration that you, Joe, not be thought of as a gold-digger or a paid lover."
"After breakfast, I will instruct the Schuyler Trust to issue a check for $50 million to you, Joe, endowing you with an independent fortune to manage and spend as you see fit. That matches Eric's fortune. The Trust will do as I say. They are legally bound to write the check. Your brother loves you so much, Joe, that this weighed on his mind for you, enough to remind me."
"In turn, I want you to accept this graciously and know it springs from love, not the common reason that money leaves the Trust, but to date the very best reason. Joe, please honor the love of your brother and my love as well in accepting these assets. Please know that our relationship is and always will be independent of money."
Joe looked stunned. Neither Eric nor I were a bit surprised at his reaction. Few policemen reach the end of their careers with a fortune without a commensurate strain of some kind.