THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Wes
By and copyright Lady Poetess
Disclaimer
This story is entirely fictitious and has no resemblance to anyone alive or dead. Period.
ONE
In the heart of the charity scene of New York and beyond was a man named Tobey Maguire. If that name sounded familiar, that was because Tobey -- actually, Tobias Vincent Maguire, was the eldest (estranged) son of Senator Vincent Maguire, a man well-known for his unpopular views on gay rights, guns, and Catholicism. And since Tobey was gay -- he wasn't even a bisexual, much to his father's utmost disappointment, it was agreed by both parties that Tobey would move out and carve out his own niche.
Wes Bentley clutched his battered bag that housed all his possessions and stood looking up at the sign that welcomed the stray and homeless to St Francis' Home. Tobey Maguire was one of the patrons of this shelter, one of his many pet causes, and it was imperative that Wes find Tobey.
All the easier for Wes to destroy him, of course.
Wes didn't believe in destiny, he didn't believe in God, but at that moment when Tobey Maguire descended from the stairs, Wes was tempted to laugh. "Mr Maguire," he said.
"Hello." To his credit, Tobey stopped and looked at Wes. He just looked at Wes and the bag in Wes' hand and snapped his fingers towards the door. "Feel free to make yourself at home. Tell Charles I send you."
With that, the man walked past Wes and climbed into his fancy Jaguar.
Wes never had a car, much less a Jaguar. He had seen Tobey's Rolex watch on the man's right wrist -- so, Tobey was left-handed -- and the expensive shirt that looked as if it came from a fancy catalogue. He felt his fingers involuntarily tightened around the handle of his suitcase.
"Bentley. Wesley Cook Bentley," Tobey said, tapping the papers of the new arrival on his table. "Where have I heard that name before?"
Jeff Timmons, suave, childish, and favorite son of his family, snorted. It was his sole unbecoming habit in a man too boyishly handsome for his own good. "David Bentley, the man your father evicted from that new building last year? He raised quite a fuss, lost the lawsuit, and promptly got shot when the drunk bugger tried to break into the building soon after?"
"Ah yes. And now the only surviving Bentley has taken refuge here. Small world." And maybe a chance to right his father's wrong.
"Oh no," Jeff said.
"What?"
"You got that look on your face. That one that says you're thinking of making some sort amends for this man." Jeff shook his head. "You're already earning million of brownie points in heaven to make up for being gay." He gestured at the office. "You're involved in every bloody charity and organization. You can't save the world, Tobey."
"But I can save this man." Tobey smiled. "Besides, I like doing charity work. And tell me you never feel guilty living in so much wealth while others have to starve on the streets."
"I pay my taxes, don't I?" Jeff replied. "And I'm not going to change your mind, am I not?"
"No, not likely. Besides, I have a selfish reason for this." Tobey stood up and walked to the window overlooking the children's playground. He actually loved watching the children play, as much as it irritated him to admit it (for doing so would mean that his friends' teasing of his saintly nature might not be far from the truth). "Have you seen that man?"
"Scary. He looks like he eats grandmothers for breakfast. I bet if I persuade Nick to dig up the files, we can find lots of criminal misdemeanors we can pin on him."
"That's unfair," Tobey said automatically. Although he had to admit that the man's air of tightly controlled wildness was what made him stop at his tracks. He could barely get out of Wes' presence fast enough before he degenerate into a babbling idiot. The man was darkness personified. Actually Wes had nothing remotely resembling conventional beauty on the surface. His face was almost nondescript apart from a set of dimples that made him look like the devil incarnate -- tempting, seductive, and pure mischief.
But it was the stark air of barely restrained violence in Wes that drew Tobey like a moth to a flame. That and the quiet strength and power radiating from Wes' slim frame.
Tobey had never felt this drawn to a man before. Maybe this was why people cruise the streets for danger and thrill.
"Don't, Tobey," Jeff warned.
"What?" Tobey said, amusement creeping into his voice.
"I know what you're thinking. You're not going to play with fire."
"I won't." He was lying, of course, but that was the good about people assuming he incapable of lying. He could get away with it so easily.
TWO
It was one thing to want to seduce a man, but Tobey had no idea how to start on it. He had never seduced anyone before, not intentionally anyway. He knew he was attractive enough to people, and he had no problem getting laid (although it had been a while since he had any), but when it came to Wes, he was stuck.
It was only two days later when he looked up and saw Wes at the doorway of his office. "Hi," he said, and then wanted to hit his head against his desk hard. Of all the inane things one could say.
"You want to see me?" Wes said gruffly. He was in simple white T-shirt of red and blue that only made him look sinister in his darkness. Dark hair, dark eyes, and probably a dark soul -- the latter sent a shiver of excitement up Tobey's spine. Just of thought of all the barely suppressed violence under him, legs spread open for his cock, made him hard enough to burst through his pants.
Tobey realized Wes was looking at him blankly.
"What?" he said.
"You want to see me?"
"Yes." Tobey swallowed. Hell, he seemed to have lost all his usual diplomacy. "I know about your father."
Wes' slight tightening of his jaw was the only sign of emotion. "Yeah, so?"
"I'm not siding with my father on this, He's an asshole, and a not-too-bright one." Tobey smiled tightly. "I'm sorry. If there's a way I can make your life better…"
"They call you Bullfrog," Wes interjected.
"Yeah." The kids called him that on the account of his slightly bulgy eyes and his wide, flat grin.
"And you do look like one."
"Should I be insulted?" Tobey said, then sucked his breath when Wes closed the office door behind him.
He couldn't breath, not when Wes touched his cheek with his right hand. The contact burned, sending warm searing fire all over Tobey's senses down to his groin.
Then it was gone. Wes stood back, smiling knowingly, and Tobey wanted to hit back at him for making them both realize how vulnerable he was to Wes.
"There's nothing you can do for me." Wes' grin was pure evil, and Tobey's cock, damn that treacherous organ, only stiffened more at that sight. "But I'm sure there are something I can do for you."
Wes stood up and calmly lifted his shirt off his head, revealing a slim but tightly muscled body. Nothing special, really, but Tobey was mesmerized. By Wes' eyes and demonic face and pure, pure sexual magnetism he radiated. Wes calmly unclasped his jeans and undid one button. Two. Until Tobey could see the pale skin of Wes' groin and the start of thick dark bush of pubic hair.
"You only have to come to my door," Wes said, fastening his jeans.
Tobey blinked, his lips slightly parted in hunger. "No, I won't," he said defiantly. "Not like this. I won't play your games."
"Your loss then." Wes shrugged, pulling his shirt down his body. "I guess we have nothing more to say to each other."
"Oh yes there is," Tobey said half an hour later, pushing open the dorm door. Wes was alone, the others having left for the dining hall earlier. "Come with me, we're going dinner."
"In the hall? Lowering yourself a little, aren't you?" Wes sneered.
He wasn't prepared for Tobey roughly pulling him off the bed to his feet. Christ, the man was stronger than he looked. The deceptively rangy arms steadied him when he stumbled. "No," Tobey said, "we're going dinner at a friend's place. Where're your best clothes?"
He just wanted to seduce the man; he knew he could do it, for Tobey had been watching him for days when he thought Wes wasn't looking. And nothing would be better than to have Tobey under his sexual control. He was sure St Tobey would come to him at night for some quick fumbling fucks in the toilet or something.
Yet he found himself sitting in a posh apartment, feeling awkward, out of place, and outclassed at the dining table. Tobey's friend Greg was in the kitchen with Tobey, and both of them shared a love for cooking which they were demonstrating with loud sounds of cooking utensil clinking and clanking and smells of something mouth watering. Greg's boyfriend Kevin was watching him silently.
"You're not a very talkative man, are you?" Wes told Kevin, who was tall, dark, and handsome, with a small goatee on the chin.
"Yeah." Kevin returned to his newspaper. Then he looked at Tobey again. "I recognize a con when I see one. Hurt that man and I will break your balls."
"Scary," Wes sneered. He could just walk out now. He ought to. The man cooking inside was the son of the man who might as well shot his idiot father. He would, if he hadn't so much at stake here. He was running out of time.
"Here we go," Tobey announced, carrying a hot, steaming tray of chicken meat, and Wes forgot what he was thinking.
Trust Tobey to find his one weak point, he thought, two hours later, still feeling full from the most delicious meal he had ever had. If the man cooked like this, Wes would be most tempted to do anything Tobey asked. He found himself standing at a pool table, watching several of Tobey's friends play pool and talking in a camaraderie that defied his comprehension. Surely the heated rush of anger when he saw Tobey lean over and whisper something in a man called Stephen's ears wasn't jealousy. He wasn't jealous. Not when the lethally handsome man called Antonio put his arm around Tobey.
No. He was definitely not feeling anything.
He felt lost and disoriented, however. They shouldn't be treating him like this. He felt dirty, as if he was betraying his father, by standing here and drinking their beer and… he bit back rising nausea. He had to get out of here. THREE
Shit. Wes woke up to morning light streaming in his eyes. What -- where -- hell, where the fuck was he?
He was in a silent and white bedroom. The bed he was on was softest of velvet. And he wasn't alone. He turned, and saw Tobey asleep beside him. They were both clothed, and Wes saw no sign of fucking done between them. Not sure whether to be disappointed or glad, he turned to look around him.
There was a small framed photo of Tobey and a young woman. This had to be Tobey's place. Why the hell was he here?
Oh yeah, last night. He had fled the pool club to the opposite bar where he'd drunk himself stupid.
Tobey stirred, and Wes shut his eyes.
"Wes?" he heard the man whisper.
A gentle hand touched his ear, so brief yet tender that it was like a prayer's kiss. Then Wes felt Tobey get off the bed. He shit his eyes tight, not moving, until he heard a curtain being pulled across a bar and water raining from a showerhead.
He remembered last night, surprising, considering how drunk he had become. Even now he was feeling some slight hangover despite his ability to hold as much liquor as he wanted to. Or maybe the headache was from recalling how he had collapsed in Tobey's arms and wept.
"Nobody loves me," he had said. Stupid.
"I can love you," Tobey had said simply.
"I'm an evil bastard," Wes said.
"I know."
He had begged Tobey for a kiss to help him forget. Wes ran his hand along his right cheek, remembering the soft kiss and the way Tobey held him as he wept like a baby until sleep got the better of him. Tobey had said he could love Wes. Not exactly that he loved Wes, but for some reason, it was enough to make him feel some strange lightness in his heart.
He could lie on this bed and wait until Tobey come back. What would he have to pay to lie here, in Tobey's arms? What would he give to sleep here beside him?
Wes groaned softly as his headache worsened. He never actually hated Tobey, okay, maybe a little, but he had little love for his father really. His father beat him bad, was a mean drunk, and Wes was away in jail two states away when the man died in his final stupid drunk act.
He could let go of the past. He could worry about the fix he was in, but for now, he was intrigued by this new possibility of Tobey loving him. He had seen people in love on TV, and heck, he wouldn't mind having Tobey love him like the man loved those strays in his orphanages and homeless shelters.
He pulled his shirt off and rubbed his chest with it, walking into the kitchen for a hot drink. Hell, the whole place was wide and spacious, an illusion greatly enforced by sparse furnishing. Tobey might have been estranged from his wealthy family, but obviously the trust fund his grandfather left him was being put to good use.
Wes heard Tobey humming in the shower. Nice. He wandered around the house, coffee in hand, and carelessly rifled through some papers on the living room table. He froze. In his hands were reports from a PI detailing Wes' various and colorful criminal records.
Obviously Tobey wasn't as guileless as his friendly mien indicated.
He couldn't understand the desperation that seized him, however. He didn't need Tobey, he told himself savagely even as he started pacing faster and faster towards the shower. He didn't need the man, he insisted even as he ripped at the fastenings of his jeans. No, Tobey was insignificant --\ Wes never needed anyone and never will.
He tested the door. Locked. No problem. Wes reached for the ornamental knife at the wall, callously pulled it from its stand, and broke the latch in one smooth thrust.
"Tobey," he called, his voice roughened by rising need and desperation. Don't throw me away, he wanted to call, much to his disgust. "Tobey," he could only say.
He saw Tobey turn from his drying of his hair. Wes just pushed him to the wall so that Tobey's had his hands splayed against the cold mosaic. He reached down and roughly grabbed Tobey's cock, feeling the thickly-veined shaft in his slightly trembling fingers.
He would make Tobey love him. At that moment, that was all that mattered.
He buried his face in Tobey's shoulder, sinking his teeth gently into the man's supple skin, drawing a soft gasp from Tobey. His tongue slowly traced the collarbone, even as his left hand slowly masturbated that man, running his fingers up that increasingly hard cock to rub his thumb gently at the fast- moistening slit before moving back down. His right hand reached down to play at the heavy balls, feeling the testicles in their sacs and pulling gently at the thick hair of Tobey's anus.
Tobey was breathing raggedly now, his hips thrusting in rhythm with Wes' jerking of his cock. Wes slowly slipped one leg between Tobey's thighs. The man sensed Wes' cock pressing at him, and willingly spread his legs wider.
Wes gave a shuddering cry as his cock pushed up Tobey's tight, barely ready asshole. He felt Tobey's body spasm as his cock forced his way up the man's heated anus. It was so tight, the thick muscular walls gripping his sensitive shaft like a vise, that he almost went mad at the maddening pleasure of it.
One thrust, two, then he was gritting his teeth as his semen burst forth from his cock, gushing up Tobey's body in abject worship. Tobey too gave a cry of relief as his cock jumped in Wes' dextrous grip, spraying his own chest and the wall with his rich hot ejaculate.
Wes licked the man's juices, greedily tasting Tobey's skin and the salty rich taste of the man's semen. He even licked the wall as Tobey banged him from behind hard. As he shut his eyes as pleasure beyond pleasure wrecked through him, he could only hope that it was enough for Tobey to keep him.
FOUR
"Coffee?" Wes placed a mug on the table.
He watched Tobey in his robe reading a newspaper somewhat tentatively. Hell, was Tobey thinking of dumping him now? He looked at the report of his criminal past. For once, Wes wished he had the power to change the past.
Funny how the tables had turned.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked.
"Huh? Sorry, I was thinking." Tobey smiled sheepishly. "I'm just wondering if you'll respect me now that you've had your way with me."
Wes wanted to laugh. If only Tobey knew how much power he held over Wes. "I respect you," he said honestly, even when he knew he didn't have to. "I respect you for being such a fucking saint and irritating me with your fucking Mother Theresa act." That felt good. "In fact. I demand that you make good your promise to make my life better."
"How do I do that?"
"Love me." It came out easier than Wes thought. "Please."
Tobey grinned. "That's all?"
Wes nodded. Damn, this room was dusty. His eyes felt wet.
"I'll try." Tobey reached out and clasped Wes' hand in his.
FIVE
"I won't do it. Look, I'll pay back the fifteen thousand dollars." Wes tried hard not to lose control.
Vincent Maguire looked at him in disdain. "They told me you were the best. No matter. Keep the money."
"What do you mean?" Wes asked. Big mistake. His exposure of his ignorance put him in Vincent's mercy.
Wes saw the look in Vincent's eyes, and knew. "You've had photos. You sent someone to spy on me and took the pictures without me knowing."
"Never can depend on you people," Vincent said mildly. "Now get out. I have things to do."
"No."
"No?" Vincent's voice hardened.
"No." Wes stood up and calmly placed a gun on Vincent's head. "Give me the pictures."
"Are you out of your mind?" Vincent sputtered.
"I have no future, I have a past I am not too proud of. If your son knows that I am paid by you to seduce him and have pictures of us published in a porn mag, I doubt he would want me anymore. I have nothing to live for and everything to gain if I pull the trigger, Mr Maguire." Wes' lips arched upwards. "Think about it. I have nothing to lose in shooting you now."
Tobey was waiting for him in the Home. "Where have you been?" he said, looking up from his paperwork.
"Lunch." Wes placed the food on the table. "Did I tell you how much I love you today?"
"You went and see my father, didn't you?"
Wes didn't blink. "Yes I did. You knew?"
"Yeah, I know. It was a good plan, though. Blame his opponent for blackmailing him, a poor martyred father who only wants to protect his gay son. Great PR notion." Tobey shrugged. "I always wanted to be on a porn mag."
"How did you know?" Wes asked.
Tobey looked at his notes, hiding a smile. "How did you know?" Wes asked, his voice rising. "I put a gun at your father's head for this," he said, throwing the roll of sun-exposed negatives at Tobey. "You owe me an explanation."
"No I don't."
Wes shut the office door. "I'll make you tell me," he growled, looking like an enraged demon.
His enraged demon, Tobey thought happily. "You can try."