THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Ben
By Lady Poetess. Copyright c 1999.
Feel free to reproduce and distribute as long as you leave the credits and the author's note below intact. If you somehow make money out of this, well, good for you but please send some to me at egiggles@moose-mail.com!
Author's note:
This is actually a part of an ongoing fantasy fan-fiction about a fictional group of friends in New York whose weekly poker games form the basis of their story of finding love and laughter. These friends are - under inexplicable circumstances! - dead ringers from some music and movie celebrities, obscure or well known, that I find worth a write or two. The men and their lives depicted here have nothing in common with the real people they are based on apart from their appearances and names. I am not speculating on their sexual orientation or personal past. Again, everything is strictly fictional, apart from the character's good looks. Suing me is a waste of time, as frankly, to be blunt, I'm penniless.
PROLOGUE
It was a perfect day for a wedding. Not exactly a legal wedding for homosexual marriages were still shady when one considered their legality, but nonetheless the lucky bridegroom Jonathon Affleck didn't care. He watched as the man he had chosen for his mate walked down the lawn path. John Denvers was resplendent in his simple yet elegant dark brown suit, with soft silk white shirt that only highlighted the golden shine of his short gold hair and iris eyes.
Jonathon Affleck felt like the luckiest man in the world.
At that moment there was a shout, followed by screams of outraged horror. Jonathon watched, mouth wide open, when a Mercedes crashed through the neat hedge. A disheveled looking Ben crashed the car right into the wedding cake reception desk, toppling it. Ben, the Affleck black sheep, clambered out of the car, shouted something to John, which Jonathon couldn't hear above the commotion.
His guests scattered, not far enough to witness another Ben Affleck debacle, of course. John's face paled, and to Jonathon's surprise, started to run the other way.
"Johnny!" Jonathon shouted after his love.
Ben jumped, falling heavily onto John. They fell heavily and rolled along the lawn, shouting no doubt obscenities as they wrestled each other. Then came another car, this time a Jaguar, thankfully through the more conventional route - down the road - and Jonathon saw Jeremy Northam, Ethan Hawke, Stephen Gately, and several of Ben's friends. They bundled a struggling John into Ben's car, and took off.
"My wedding," Jonathon said belatedly. He wondered if he could get a refund from the caterer.
ONE
John Denvers, actually Matthew Paige Damon, cursed foully from beneath his gag. Trussed up in the most undignified manner in the back of his nemesis' car, he could make outraged sounds.
"Whoa, cut down on the bad words or I would have to wash your mouth with soap," Ben Geza Affleck said easily. "You really think I would stand by and let your get away with it?"
The thought of what Matt almost succeeded in doing made Ben's anger surge up all over again. Matt alias John Denvers alias Peter Josephson alias a million other names had cheated seven other gullible queer heirs to various fortunes in the last five years. It was plain luck that Ben discovered Matt's real identity, hell, Ben even saluted the man for being intelligent enough to con so many victims, but family was family. Even if the Afflecks had disowned him, he wouldn't see them fall.
Looking at the rear mirror, Ben could see why Matt was so successful though. Matt was handsome, but his face lacked any distinguishable trait. Ben had compared various snapshots of Matt in his various incarnations, and if Ben hadn't spent nights memorizing every possible trait of Matt's bland beauty, he wouldn't have recognized him. Matt's nondescript face was his greatest asset - that face was almost elastic in its ability to carry off disguises properly. A moustache, some stubble, and a simple earring could change Matt into another person entirely. The only way Ben could recognize Matt was through those vivid eyes and the sheer electricity that surged through Ben's senses every time he was in Matt's company.
He had first seen "John" when Jonathon introduced them. Jonathon was the only person who still talked to Ben after the debacle with the Foster account. And Ben had fallen right in lust with John at first sight.
Even now, Ben felt his mouth dry as he watched Matt. The struggle had hiked Matt's shirt out of his trousers, exposing pale expanse of well-defined abdominal muscles. Matt's gold hair had fallen over his eyes, and the man's pale face was flushed. Ben liked that rosy hue in Matt's face, and he would give anything to see that rosy hue on Matt's face when Ben finally took Matt.
Oh yes, he had no qualms about fucking Matt first to get the man out of his system before handing the man to the cops. Matt wasn't a delicate virgin; the man was a cheat, a gigolo.
Matt stumbled when Ben pushed him into the living room. He had never been to Ben's house before, which was three hours outside LA. Nice, he thought stupidly, taking in the simple masculine furniture and sparse ornamental decoration. No prissy abstract art or sculpture like Jonathon's pad. Ben's place had the bare essentials - Matt saw two plush sofa, the largest TV set he had ever seen, a sophisticated video and laser player, some great stereo Matt vowed he would take along with him when he left, and surprisingly, a wall lined with a full bookshelf.
Nice. Then all admiration of the house left him when Ben lifted him and slung him over his shoulders like a bag of flour.
Matt shouted in outrage, but the gag was in the way. Besides, thrill tingled through his spine and aroused his libido at the thought of Ben's deceptively lanky frame hiding such strength. And then Matt could feel Ben's well-muscled shoulder under his stomach, and his knees rubbing against Ben's hard chest through the smooth silk of Ben's shirt. It was all Matt could do not to pounce on Ben and do something shocking when Jonathon first introduced him to his brother. Ben had finished a round of squash in the club, and Matt couldn't helped staring at the hint of hair protruding from the collar of Ben's shirt and the sweaty, hard-muscled thighs exposed thanks to Ben's shorter than short squash shorts.
Even then, Ben oozed quiet strength and sexual power. The way those thighs moved when Ben ran across the court teased Matt's dreams nights after, making his asshole throb and his thighs ache to feel those powerful thighs between his. Jonathon's fucking soon turned into painfully frustrating sessions of fantasizing, where Matt would have to bite his tongue from screaming out Ben's name when he came.
Now, horror and embarrassment suffused him when he felt his cock swell against Ben's chest, right under Ben's left nipple. He couldn't help it; he pressed his bulging crotch against the man.
He came to his senses when he fell facedown on a bed. Ben's bed? The thought almost made him cream his pants. Then outrage of outrages when he felt cold steel closing around his wrists, then ankles. He was handcuffed spread- eagled to a bed.
"There, that will keep you busy for a few hours while I figure out what to do with you." Ben smiled nastily then ripped the gag off the Matt's mouth.
"Fuck you!" Matt yelled, struggling at his captivity. "I'll get even. When I get out of jail I'll put a fucking bullet through your pathetic skull."
"You may just get your wish, the jail part, you sorry son of a bitch." Ben's expression turned almost cruel as he sneered. "And quit that macho blustering. May I remind you that you are at my mercy at the moment? Hell, I could put a bullet into your fucking miserable head and no one would prosecute me."
"Fuck you."
"I can hire lawyers to defend me, make it a case of self-defense. Hell, I can just hide your body and none would be wiser. I don't think anyone would even care. You're just a low-life, good-for-nothing parasite." Ben smiled. "Ouch. You look murderous. Did I hit a nerve?"
"I'll get you for this," Matt said.
"No one messes with my family, Matt. I can't allow that. Nothing personal, actually."
"Your family doesn't want you," Matt shot back, trying his best to sneer. "They all think you are a good-for-nothing motherfucking moron."
"Well, this motherfucking moron owns your ass, Matt. You'd best remember that and be nice to me." Ben straightened himself. "You want coffee?"
"What are you going to do with me?" Matt couldn't help asking when Ben made to leave the room.
"Beats me," Ben said honestly.
TWO
Ben couldn't sleep that night. He was intensely aware of Matt in the room next door, and his cock knew it too. It stood proud and tall, urging Ben to take what was so close within his reach. And why shouldn't he? Matt was a liar, a nobody. Still, Ben felt a twinge of conscience. Sure, he screwed around; when one was rich, willing lovers could always be found. He wasn't a very nice man, he had seduced and used and discarded. But the thought of using Matt was strangely repulsive even to him.
Ben groaned, pushing his erection into the softness of the mattress, a sad substitute for a hot tight ass, really. No one had ever driven him so close to madness like Matt, not even when Ben was fifteen and would fuck anything that moved. Ben had been in perpetual horniness ever since he met Matt. Other men couldn't reduce his edge, hell; these men weren't even close substitutes. He wanted Matt, only Matt, and no one else and damned if he knew what was so special about Matt.
Ben gasped, spreading his thighs and raising his buttocks. His finger pushed through the tight ring of muscles guarding his anus as he ground his cock into the mattress, imagining Matt spread wide open in invitation under him. He would sink his cock into that delicious dark hole, and he would just fuck them both until nothing else mattered but fucking coming.
He felt warmth seeping under his stomach, and groaned when he realized that he had ejaculated onto his bed. Shuddering with pleasure, he gasped, pushing his finger deeper up his anus, pumping short thrusts. He kept coming for what seemed like hours, until he buried his sweat soaked face into the pillow, feeling his balls twitch as his cock spurted the last of his semen.
Matt couldn't sleep, not when he knew Ben was next door to him. Hence, when Ben pushed open the door, Matt thought he was dreaming. Ben was nude, gloriously nude, and Matt gulped. Taut muscles tensed in Ben's chest and stomach and thighs, making him look like a bloody marble Greek statue. The jutting penis from the thick dark pubic push looked hard enough to rival Greek statues, the proud smooth tip moistened with shiny sheen and the thick veins standing out clearly. Matt wanted to howl when his lust pitched at the sight of creamy semen generously slathered on Ben's lower stomach and caught in the pubic bush.
"Obviously you've started the party early," he managed to say.
Ben didn't answer. He reached for the side table and took out a pair of scissors. Cold fear slithered in Matt's senses. "Ben, be reasonable," he said.
"Shut up," Ben said huskily.
Matt watched, entranced, as Ben placed the scissors on his chest. Snip, and Matt's first button was gone. Snip, snip, snip, one by one, and Matt watched as Ben cut open his shirt. "Beautiful," he heard Ben murmur, then he groaned when Ben parted the ruined shirt to touch Matt's chest.
"That's what Jonathon say," Matt couldn't help saying.
Ben gave a feral growl. The violence took Matt by surprise. A loud rip, then Ben stripped Matt entirely nude, and pain wracked Matt the moment Ben shoved his cock up Matt without any preliminaries.
"Fucking hell, at least use a rubber," Matt gasped as pain warred with pleasure.
"Fuck rubber," Ben said, pushing even deeper up Matt's deliciously tight and slippery passage. "Fuck you."
"Get off me! Damn it, I refuse to fuck you without any rubber."
Ben paused, every muscle tensed in barely contained violence. "I don't have any rubber," he growled after a while.
"You're kidding," Matt said.
"Ran out and I forgot to buy some more," Ben said. He looked at Matt, his well defined square jaw tensed. "Please don't tell me you're this fucking anal about rubber. Not now."
"You damn right I am," Matt shot back even as he instinctively tightened his grip on Ben's cock.
"Yeah? Then why are you gripping my cock like a fucking vise?" Ben gave a short rough thrust up; Matt gave a keening cry of pleasure when he felt that cock rubbing his prostate. "Fuck the rubber. I wanna fuck."
"I can't stop you, can I?" Matt gasped out when Ben gave another thrust, the cock spearing him deeper than anyone else ever had. "Oh!"
Ben's abrupt withdrawal had him crying out in bereft disappointment. He looked at the man in stunned surprise.
"Never let it say I'm not politically correct," Ben managed to say. He looked at his cock then at Matt. He pointed a shaky finger at the man. "But you're not getting away with this. You're still going to get fucked one way or the other."
"Ben."
"What?" Ben shouted.
"Come here."
"Why?"
Matt laughed. "Don't looked so fucking suspicious. Come here. Sit on my chest."
"Ah." Ben climbed back on the bed. "I see."
Then Matt had his mouth closing on Ben's cock, cleaning him, and Ben saw nothing.
Ben awoke when he felt someone sucking on his morning erection. He lay back, enjoying the mouth's expert suction and licking. The tongue on his cock lapped at the slit that was even now leaking clear drops of lubrication in anticipation of a great royal fuck, lapping at the juices as if Ben was a fucking lollypop. Then the tongue was rimming the sensitive underside ridge of Ben's cock, the rough texture of the tongue driving the sensitive nerves in that area crazy. Warm lips rubbed his cock shaft, the tongue tracing the prominent veins, then down. Ben had freed Matt's feet last night, which Matt was using now to move lower down Ben's body. Then the mouth was backing up. This time Ben couldn't take it any longer. He pushed himself up, and deeper into Matt's throat. One thrust, two, then he was spurting like a geyser into Matt's mouth and down the frantically swallowing throat. Matt's fingers dug at his steel-hard buns, and then Ben was ejaculating again, an encore clearly appreciated by Matt judging from his delighted murmurs.
"Sure you don't me up here," Ben asked, letting one finger trace Matt's pucker lazily when they were both sated later. "There's only so much blow jobs can do to us both, you know."
Matt licked at the trace of his own seed at the right edge of Ben's lips. "I don't want you to feel dirty and degraded when you realized you've just fucked a low- life con."
"Ouch. But we both need this. I want you," Ben said.
Matt felt a warm glow in his chest when he heard Ben's heavy earnestness in the last three words. "You want me?" he asked stupidly.
"Ever since Jonathon brought you to the club. There's something about you that make me hard. I'm still hard," Ben whispered. "See?"
"Maybe if you release my hands I can kiss you."
"No." Ben smiled roguishly, a sight Matt found irresistible. "Like I said, you're a con."
"No shame in that." Matt said easily, lying back and running his toes along Ben's hairy leg.
"So why con?" Ben traced the gentle curve of Matt's back. "Broken family?"
"You've been watching too many talk shows."
But Ben knew. He had read Matt's juvenile records, obtained via less-than- legal means. Matt had been raised by an abusive step-uncle that threw him out into the streets when Matt was twelve. Matt had been arrested for everything from shoplifting to prostitution to extortion. At fifteen Matt was sent to a corrective facility. "Maybe I have," Ben agreed.
THREE
Ben looked at the wide display of condoms in the supermarket. He shrugged and swept six boxes into his cart. "Good day to you," he said cheerfully to the young boy watching him in awe.
He felt on top of the world, if truth were told. It was stupid really, but here he was, shopping in a supermarket for the first time in his pampered and spoilt life, and he was enjoying it. He added to his purchases a carton of milk, some chocolates, and a tub of pistachio ice cream. For added measure he returned to the aisle and added in four more boxes of rubber.
"Egads, you're shopping," he heard a familiar voice.
"Well, Greg, there's always the first time." He eyed Greg's cart. "Cooking spree again?"
"Cheaper than therapy." Greg lifted one eyebrow at Ben's purchases. "Ten?"
Ben blushed, fuck, he actually blushed. Maybe ten was pushing it a little. "Yeah, ten," he said in a tone that dared Greg to contradict him.
"Any chance you're using it with the con you holed in your place?"
"I see Jeremy's been blabbing again."
"Hey, it's none of my business. Just wondering, that's all. I'd hate to see the man get hurt."
"The man? How about me? It's my family he's trying to cheat," Ben said.
"Hell, the way your family cut you off for losing a contract, I'd say good for this man." Greg smiled, his otherwise bland features now basking in beauty that entranced his partner even today. "Just be careful."
"He's nothing to me," Ben insisted at Greg's retreating back.
"Yeah?" Greg looked back, mischief in his eyes. "Think about it. You're allergic to dairy products. So why are there two tubs of ice cream in your cart?"
"Actually they are for - shit." Ben looked at his cart in horror.
No, he told himself as he drove home in reckless speed. No way, no fucking way. He was buying ice cream because he felt like it, not because Matt mentioned in passing that he loved this sort of ice cream. Although an insidious part of him whispered gleefully that if Matt wasn't anything to him, why the hell was he worrying?
Why indeed? It was with desperation when he burst into the room he still held Matt captive and said, "Let's fuck."
Ben stood, stupified. Matt was free, sitting calmly on the bed. "You're free."
"Of course I am," Matt said.
Fuck. No wonder Matt had insisted on Ben going shopping earlier. Ben stupidly left Matt to his own devices. He stepped into the room.
"Hey, don't move." Matt lifted a pocket knife. "I'd hate to use this on you."
"So you expect me to let you walk out of here?"
"Won't hurt, will it?" Matt buttoned up the shirt he was wearing, Ben's shirt actually, and dusted his trousers, again, Ben's. "If you don't mind standing aside, I'll get going - aaggghhhh!"
Ben lost control. He threw himself at Matt, right in the path if the sharp-looking blade. He felt brief savage satisfaction when Matt - perhaps instinctively - threw the blade out of his way. They fell onto the bed, Ben on Matt. Ben looked into Matt's fear-filled eyes, and pushed his now increasingly hardening cock at the man's crotch. "I won't let you get away from me," Ben said, his voice hard. "Not when we have unfinished business."
Matt's eyes had taken on a glaze of desire mingled with reluctance. "Don't do this to me, Ben, please." When Ben pulled his trousers down, and Matt's, he shut his eyes. He waited, then yes, he heard the ripping of a silver foil, he felt it, the weight of Ben's body settling on him, their still clad upper body breathing as one, then he felt it, the heavy tip of Ben's now rubber coated cock nudging at his entrance. Then Ben's wide thick shaft pierced him, impaling him. Matt spread his thighs and clasped Ben's body, lifting his lower body off the bed to allow Ben to bend forward to plunge deeper. His hands gripped the hair on Ben's chest, moaning in need as he felt the rough hairy mat of Ben's crotch pressed against his balls.
"You okay?" Ben asked.
"Yeah." Matt swallowed. "Just give me a minute to get used to you." His hand groped the top of the bedside table. "Just a minute." His fingers closed around the vase.
Ben's rough fingers closed over his. Ben's eyes were inscrutable, however. He brought Matt's hand to his lips, and slowly kissed the knuckles one by one. Matt's breath caught. Ben's warm breath on his skin was an immaculate feeling that inexplicably caused Matt's eyes to water. Then Ben was kissing him, lips to lips. When Matt opened his mouth, Ben's tongue slipped in. Matt welcomed him, kissing Ben back. Then Ben began pumping, slowly, the long shaft withdrawing in agonizing slowness until Matt wanted to scream. When only the tip of Ben's cock was submerged in Matt's pulsing anus, Ben slowly plunged back.
"I can get used to this," Ben murmured.
"Don't stop or I'll kill you," Matt said, his hands now gripping Ben's hard buns, urging him on in his steady pumping. He felt the man's heavy balls slapping against his buttocks, reveled in Ben's harsh features as the man tried hard to control his rising orgasm. "Faster, damn it! You're killing me."
"Always willing to oblige," Ben panted, and Matt screamed.
He didn't stop crying in unbearable ecstasy when Ben rammed home hard. The man was like a fucking sex engine, his hips slamming into Matt's crotch with sex wet slapping sounds as his cock steamed, coring Matt again and again until Matt thought he would burst into flames. He arched his back, pushing down on Ben's cock until the man's balls were squashed tight against his buttocks, then up when Ben withdrew.
"Wait! Damn it, you are so tight my fucking rubber is falling off," Ben gasped. "Let me pull out and put it back on."
Matt pulled Ben's face to his and kissed him so hard their lips bled. "Fuck the rubber!" Matt told him. "Now pump me!"
Ben obliged. The rubber fell off halfway, and Ben paused only to pull the thing off, and then it was his turn to cry out at the incomparable sensation of his naked flesh submerged in Matt's wet heated hole. He looked at Matt apologetically even as his balls lifted the moment he buried his now unsheathed cock to the hilt, and then he was orgasming uncontrollably, coming in long, spurious spurts in that spasming ass that wrung every last drop from him.
"You want money? Is that why you con?" Ben asked when he could speak.
Matt looked at Ben questioningly, his own hair askew, his breath barely under control. His asshole still felt as if it was on fire. "No, it's for charity. Of course it's for money, asshole."
Ben looked at Matt, his face solemn.
"What is it?" When Ben just kept staring, Matt poked a finger at Ben's hairy chest. "What, Ben?"
"I have money. Lots of it."
"So?"
Ben took a deep breath as if steadying his nerves. "Why not make me your mark instead? Try and cheat me like you did Jonathon. Marry me for my money."
Matt started laughing. "You're fucking funny."
Ben only stared at the man laughing. He wondered why it was as if he had just lost everything precious to him in this world.
FOUR
"I still love him. I'll marry him."
Ben looked at his brother murderously. "He tried to cheat you."
"So? I want him. He's great in bed, and he loves watching baseball."
"That's not enough to start a marriage," Ben said through gritted teeth.
"So what is?"
"You hardly know Matt!" Ben yelled. "You don't even know he loves pistacchio ice cream and thinks the best place in the world is Marseilles. You don't know that when he wrinkles his nose, he's upset. You don't know how much he has suffered in his past and how he hides his pain by just ignoring it. Fuck it, Jon, you don't even feel the maddening joy when he laughs at your jokes, the irritation that he prefers watching the Mets more than you on baseball night, the way you feel as if you have everything you ever need because you make him smile? You don't feel utter gratitude that he even knows your name because to you he is most intriguing mix of annoyance and paradise ever. You don't fucking know him, and you don't deserve him!"
Silence greeted his outburst.
"If you want that guy so bad, why did you haul him to the cops?" Jon asked.
NYPD's 34th Precinct was quite startled when one of the richest man in the world burst through the doors, looking disheveled and harried, his tie askew. The man spotted the officer who had taken down record of Matthew Damon's arrest.
"You! I'm not pressing charges. Nobody is pressing charges!" the man practically shouted. "Release him, you hear me? Release him!"
"But-"
At that moment Matthew Damon walked out from the gent's room. "Thanks but I've just about to leave anyway. Your brother's agreed not to press - whoa! Ben, we're in a public place! Ben! BEN!"
Matthew Damon was carried over the man's shoulder like a sack of coals, and that was the last time the con ever graced a police station in a while.