THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Baxter Written by Lady Poetess egiggles at moose-mail.com /~bbp Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive. PROLOGUE The man was hovering between life and death. Clifford Burton Roberts refused to accept that the man would die. Not Baxter Gregory Jameson - Burton would not consider the fact that Baxter would die because Burton was fucking careless. "It's not your fault," he had been told by well-wishing friends. Yeah? Burton had vowed to take care of Baxter. He had made that vow and he had sealed his vow with a kiss and the mingling of his blood with Baxter's as they pressed the cut he'd made on their wrists together years ago. He had also vowed fidelity, devotion, and affection to Baxter as long as he had breath in his body, through abundance and penury, and it was a vow he cemented with Baxter first through a kiss, then through blood, and later, through the intimate act of his flesh joining with Baxter's. He was twenty, Baxter was eighteen, and some might say they were too young then, but the years that passed had not dimmed Burton's desire or devotion to the man that had been his faithful assistant, friend, lover, and confidante. If Baxter died from the wounds inflicted by the tiger, Burton did not know what he would do. Maybe he would take the gun that he had used to kill the tiger and use it to join Baxter. His religious mother had warned him that people that died by their hands would burn in hell. Well, Burton would rip apart the gates of hell and stormed the pearly gates to find Baxter again. Provided, he thought in a brief moment of dark humor, that his mother was wrong and homosexuals were allowed to pass on to heaven. He had already make plans to move Baxter from this remote Bengal outfront medical outpost to a better-facilitated hospital once Baxter had recovered enough to allow the move. He had also flown in a surgeon from England to make Baxter leave. Funny how his wealth that he had spurned eventually came to play here. But if swallowing his pride and kneeling down to humble himself before his family that rejected him was what he had to do, he did it without a second thought. Pride, honor, dignity - nothing mattered anymore. "Will he live?" he asked in a voice hoarse from the lack of sleep as a doctor timidly stepped into the room. It was the same doctor that Burton had threw across the room in a fit of mad despair when the bastard hinted that Baxter might not survive the night. The man had the right to be afraid. "There's a better chance now that his blood pressure has stabilized and he has stopped losing blood through internal hemorrhages," the doctor said. He quickly checked the unconscious man's pulse and temperature and made some notes on the checkboard before moving on to safer pastures. Burton sat alone in the darkened room, watching the man that was his soul battle alone for his life. He reached out and gripped the man's hand tight in his. "Don't leave me, Bax," he whispered. "I need you to go on. Please." He sighed as what little of his strength drained away in the wake of his exhaustion and despair and he slumped forward and pressed Bax's hand to his lips, kissing it, before rubbing his unshaven cheek against the back of the hand that had known Burton's body so well. "Please," he whispered one more time. He thought he could hear an answering pulse in the man's hand against his cheek. He knew it was just his fanciful imagination borne from a wild hope. He didn't give a damn and broke down, weeping, as he kissed Baxter's hand again and again. ONE Clifford Burton Roberts was an extreme sports enthusiast and an adventurer well-known among those in the hobby community as a fool that pushed his limits and risked his life in pursuit of adventures even the most reckless extreme sports enthusiast balk at doing. From his yachting around the world to climbing Mount K2 to swimming with sharks, he had done every conceivable crazy stunt one could imagine and then more. The man showed no signs of stopping despite turning thirty-one this April and it was speculated that he would still be chasing after reckless excitement when he was eighty. One thing stood out from the openly gay Burton's exploits: throughout his adventures, he was always accompanied by his valet/cook/assistant Baxter Jameson. Those few times that Burton spent in America - usually for Christmas so that Baxter could visit his family - he would be seen in public being affectionate with Baxter, be it a simple kiss in the lips while they were Christmas shopping or a passionate embrace in a wild New Year's Eve party at a popular gay nightspot. If Burton was the crazy fool, Baxter was the always quiet but always observant sidekick keeping an eye out for his companion. Baxter had never considered leaving Burton. It wasn't just because he loved the crazy man, but also because he enjoyed his adventures with Burton. Since his close brush with death in Bengal six months ago, however, he realized that he'd lost his nerves. The nightmares had ebbed and he could sleep better now, but he broke into cold sweat whenever he tried to think of following Burton in another one of his adventures. He watched as Burton, resplendant and gorgeous, stood at the diving plank in preparation to dive. Even in a pair of skimpy Speedos, he still looked every inch a powerfully muscled and hirsute warrior that could have been a gladiator or a warrior were he born in ancient times. Burton's face was once classically handsome but bruises and battering that body had suffered over the years of physical exertions had given the still handsome Burton a rugged and dangerous edge that only made him even more attractive. To admiring eyes, from the carelessly tucked package in his swimming trunks, he was more than well-equipped to deliver what his potent physique and looks promised. Baxter was the only man that knew just how potent Burton could be in the bedroom. Wouldn't these people be surprised were they to know that Burton had only one lover in his life, and that was Baxter? He and Baxter were each other's first when fifteen-year old Burton clumsily fucked the then-thirteen Baxter. They had known each other a lifetime, it seemed. From the moment Burton's father adopted Baxter and the six-year old Baxter became young Burton's favorite target practice to the years when they became friends and later lovers, Baxter had always been Burton's. Oh, they had both tried to get away from each other, when they were teenagers and they were immature enough to quarrel over petty matters and resent the bond each had on the other. Burton even took the most popular girl to prom just to spite Baxter once. But they always returned to each other. When their affair was discovered and Burton's family cut them both off, they were unfazed. That same night, Burton cut open his wrist and then did the same to Baxter and they let their blood flow into each other's veins as they promised to live for each other until their last breath. Now, Baxter didn't know how he was going to fulfil that vow. "You should consider my offer," Christian Bale, the manager of the very expensive island resort that Burton took Baxter to for Baxter's recuperation. Burton dived into the waters gracefully, and Baxter's heart bled at the beautiful sight. He turned to the handsome man that had spoken to him. "I shall have to think about it," he said weakly. "What's to think about? You've seen the staff quarters here. Holiday Inn looks like a rat hole compared to them. Even the bellboys that work for me live in luxury!" Christian said. He smiled and greeted some people that walked past before turning his attention back to Baxter. "You are aware that I need a good PR person desperately. I will pay more than anyone else for your services. Gull Island is becoming a popular attraction for nature treks and faux adventures, and you will be perfect to boost our island's profile." Baxter knew damned well that Christian would prefer Burton to Baxter, but they both knew that Burton would never be tied down by a job. Burton's blood was too wild and too reckless. It was Baxter's deals with magazines and TV shows to prove them with articles or materials that brought in what little income that Burton just as quickly spent away, and it was also Baxter's investing a portion of their monthly income that provided them with a decent amount of money that they could use when they finally decided to settle down and live life as a normal couple. "I'll think about it," Baxter said to Christian again. "I'll have to talk this over with Burton." "Don't wait too long, or I'll convince Sebastian Spence to fill in the job opening." Baxter made a gentle sound of disbelief. They both knew that the famous explorer Sebastian Spence would never be so crass as to lend his name to a holiday resort. Baxter knew Sebastian, as it was inevitable that their paths crossed. Hell, Burton and Sebastian led the hunt for the tiger that was terrorizing the village in Bengal six months ago. Sebastian, however, was an anthropologist that channeled all his energy in helping third- world people and his adventures were all in the name of sociology, geography, and geology. Burton just wanted the adventure. Baxter doubted that universities all over the world would vie for Burton's expertise the way they did for Sebastian Spence when the latter announced that he would cut down his travels so that he could spend more time with his lover Greg Vaughan. Baxter envied Greg even if he hadn't met that man. He didn't know how much he wanted a normal life until he almost died. Not that he blamed Burton for his ordeal. He had also tried so hard to stop Burton from blaming himself. Baxter was responsible for his own decisions and it was no one's fault that the tiger attacked him and almost killed him. But Burton always felt that he could have secured their camp tighter, he could have stopped Baxter from coming with him, he could have done so many things to keep Baxter safe. All Baxter could hope for was that one day Burton would realize that Baxter never hated him, much less blamed him, for the ordeal. "Well, think about it. I've some hotel business to tend to," Christian said and stood up. "I will," Baxter said. He watched Christian leave. That man was a devastatingly handsome man, although compared to Burton, he couldn't come close to matching the man in any way. Christian also seemed to have an issue with clothing - he was the only hotel manager Baxter knew that walked around in an unbuttoned sleeveless Aloha shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. The admiring and even openly lustful gazes Christian attracted indicated that the hotel clientele didn't mind the manager's unorthodox fashion code. It was just too bad for them that Christian Bale was singularly devoted to his partner and was in fact reputed to be fiercely jealous of anyone even suggesting that he was interested in Christian's partner. "Hey, how ya doin'?" Burton kissed Baxter as the latter looked up at his greeting. He reluctantly broke the kiss and sat down, toweling his wet hair as he gazed with those adorable soulful brown eyes at Baxter. "Come take a swim. The water's fabulous, although of course, no comparison to the magnificent waters at Christian's private beach." "I'd prefer to sit here and watch you have fun," Baxter said as he sipped at his pina colada. "You're feeling okay?" Burton asked. His voice always dipped into a slight huskiness whenever he was concerned or worried, as it did now. "No, I'm okay," Baxter assured him. "I'm just not in the mood to do anything too vigorous." "Aw, that's too bad. I was about to suggest that we retreat to our room for some good old fashioned fun," Burton teased. Baxter flushed even as he tried to control the wild desire that coursed through his blood at Burton's teasing. Not that he had any means of comparison as like Burton, he had no other sexual partner in his life. But he had heard stories or read enough sex manuals to know that Burton might not have the biggest cock around, but he was most likely more talented in bed than any ordinary Joe or Harry. They had both been experiencing great orgasms before Baxter read some books and realized that most couples were trying hard to get even one decent orgasm in bed. Burton had been very gentle since they resumed their sex life four months ago, but Baxter really missed the old playful and ferocious Burton that fucked him until the bed almost collapsed. "I love you," Burton said abruptly. That too was typically Burton. He always, when the mood struck him, told Baxter just how much he felt for Baxter. Reckless Burton was as impulsive in his displays of affection as he was with other areas in his life. "Me too," Baxter told him. "Christian Bale's been sniffing around you quite often. I don't like it," Burton said. Baxter answered Burton's unanswered question, "He's asking me to stay here and be his glorified tour guide." Burton snorted. "And you won't agree, naturally." Baxter felt mild annoyance that Burton never considered that he, Baxter, might want to live normally once in a while. Was he going to be running after Burton when he was fifty? It was a notion he had never contemplated, and now that he did, it was sobering to realize that he might not be looking forward to it. He was tired, he realized, of always having to be the responsible person in their relationship. "I don't know, Burt," he admitted. "I don't find the idea that unattractive." There, he'd said it. And Burton's expression was one of shock that Baxter almost wished he had kept his thoughts to himself. Almost - he realized that somehow, he could no longer go on with Burton, not this way. He wished he knew what to do or how to do things right so that he could still have Burton at the end of the day. Losing Burton - well, Baxter couldn't bear to even consider that bleak possibility. TWO "I'm so sorry - I don't know what got over him," Baxter apologized as he pressed an ice pack to Burton's left eye. "Hate him," Burton growled through his cut lips. "Fuck him. Tried to take you away." "Hush, don't speak, you ass. You've caused enough trouble," Baxter chided the man gently. James LeGros, Christian Bale's partner and the chief account and admin executive of the resort, normally wouldn't hesitate to toss these two out of the resort and press charges, but he could afford to be amused because Christian ended up trashing Burton Roberts in a no-contest fist fight. Burton charged into Christian's office edging for a fight, and Christian indulged the man by giving Burton a swollen eye and bleeding lips. On his part, Christian merely got a mild case of bruised knuckles. "Who would have thought? Fucking bastard," Burton growled. "Great left hook though." James smiled despite himself. He'd seen Christian threw that punch. Yeah, it was great. "It's okay," he told Baxter. "Christian said you can still stay here. He's actually in a good mood because it's been a while since he had a rough-and-tumble brawl." He couldn't resist one last jab though. "Baxter, Christian wants you to know that the job offer still stands." Burton made a wounded sound. Watching that man, James softened a little. He nodded to Baxter, made a quick goodbye, and took his leave. Baxter waited until LeGros closed the door. "You silly fool, Burt," he told Burton in perplexed exasperation. "What did you think you're doing? I've never seen you act this stupid before?" "You hate me now?" Burton asked softly. "No, you silly man," Baxter told him. "Why should I hate you?" "Got you almost killed," Burton said through his injured lips. "Now you think me stupid. I... sorry." "I never hated you, Burton. I never blamed you," Baxter said as he cradled the man in his arms. How strange was this, him cradling the stronger and most dominant male in this relationship in his arms. "It's time you get it through your thick skull that it is not your fault that I almost died. Actually, I'm also getting tired of you looking at me with that guilty expression of yours all the time. So, Burton, please, stop beating yourself up on my behalf?" Burton kept silent and Baxter sighed. Stubborn, stubborn man! "I didn't tell you about Christian's offer earlier because I don't know how to. But I've been thinking long and hard." "Will you leave me?" Burton asked. "Won't blame you." "I won't leave you, so cut that out. I'm the one recuperating here, but you're the one acting as if the world has ended." Baxter ran his hand along Burton's chest, feeling the man's chest rise and fall with each breath. "I don't think I will follow you on the next few trips, Burton. I think I have lost my nerve. I think I will go back to spend some more time with my parents as I've never really gotten to know them well." He had hired some PIs to locate his parents that gave him up for adoption, and only a few years back did he finally find them. With Burton always on the move, however, he only visited them for Christmas. Maybe it was time he bonded with them more. There were old wounds they should try to heal together. "You'll always know where to find me, buddy," he told Burton. Burton remained silent as he looked down at Baxter's hand caressing his chest. "Okay," he said. "If you want." Baxter sighed. He knew full well that if he asked Burton to jump off the cliff, the man would say yes without hesitation. The man was still on a guilt trip and he would say yes to anything Baxter wanted even if it meant that Burton would get hurt in the process. Hopefully some time away from Burton would allow Baxter to think more clearly. This was the right decision - wasn't it? "We spend rest of the month. Have fun, okay?" Burton told him. "And then you go back." "Why don't you come with me?" Baxter asked. "Nothing for me in America." How about me, Baxter wanted to ask. Was Burton's adventures more important to the man than Baxter? No, that was an unfair question, Baxter thought the moment that treacherous notion crossed his mind. But a shadow of a doubt still persisted at the back of his mind. But they would have fun, as Burton suggested. Baxter watched as Burton took the man's hand and placed it under his shirt. Both of them sighed in unison as Baxter's fingers curled to luxuriate at the thick and rich dark furs of Burton's dense treasure trail that covered his taut and well-muscled stomach. The feel of Burton's thickly furred bare skin on his palm was a sensation Baxter could never tire of. His body was almost hairless except at his armpits and crotch, and the intriguing contrast of Burton's furred body rubbing against Baxter's smooth skin was one that added a delicious edge to their lovemaking. Burton raised himself to allow Baxter to pull off the man's shirt and then they were kissing passionately, drowning in the intoxicating desire that was flaring between them, although Baxter was gentle so as to not hurt Burton's wounded lips too much. But there was nothing gentle when Burton pushed back Baxter's unbuttoned shirt to roughly pinched the man's nipples even as Baxter rode Burton's thick cock on the bed. In the steaming temperature, their sweat-slicked bodies met with a sensual rhythm as Burton's thighs constantly thrusting upwards so that his crotch slapped against Baxter in a wet slapping sound. The fan cooled their prespiration even as the creaks of the bed and their rough groans of pleasure spurred their lust to higher degrees of conflagration. Baxter came first with a loud cry as pleasure ripped through him from his sensitized prostate all across his tensed body. Burton called out his name soon after as his balls exploded and his come gushed into Baxter's burning insides in strong and fiery spurts. Baxter collapsed with a satisfied and weary moan onto Burton's body, and they smiled at each other as they kissed tenderly even as they both waited for their breathing to steady. Burton moved his hips as his cock throbbed slowly back to life, and they both looked down at where their bodies were joined, Burton's hardening cock forcing their mingled fuck juices to slowly spill down Baxter's thighs onto Burton's thick and matted pubic bush. Baxter kissed Burton again, never tiring of the act, and Burton shifted their positions so that Baxter was now lying on his back with his legs lifted high up for Burton to penetrate him deeper with ease. Effortlessly, in unison, they began to love again. It seemed that days passed without Burton ever stopped making love to Baxter, and days soon passed into weeks. Christian, magnaminous now that he knew Burton to a fellow fool for love, allowed them to use his private beach and the house that came along with it. It was a house that Christian only allowed his closest friends to use and even that was when Christian was in a very good mood. Burton and Baxter had no idea of this or that Christian allowed them to intrude in a place he considered a personal sanctum for Christian and his partner. But they were grateful as Christian's private beach and the stretch of forest were the closest to paradise on earth. It was as if they were in another world untouched by civilization, and even Burton, who had experienced the beauty of virgin rainforests of the Amazon, was moved by the sight. They had fucked under the stars before and they had made love under waterfalls and once, Burton took Baxter into an underwater cave deep in the Pearl Island waters and in the cave, they sealed their fifth anniversary vows with a kiss as Burton spilled his soul with each spurt of his semen into Baxter's accepting body, his body's most intimate tribute to Baxter, a body untainted by the touch of any other man but Baxter's. But nothing compared to now, when Burton took Baxter while they were gently adrift on a boat, the sun shining on their lustily coupling bodies as they rocked the boat in their passion. Baxter laughed with exuberant glee as he rode Burton hard under the stars as the light sprays from the waterfall outside the cave drenched their bodies. They would sleep on the hammock outside the house, Burton gently pumping his cock in and out of Baxter's ass from behind as the cool night sea breeze cooled their bodies. And then they would wake up and Burton would kiss the bug bites on Baxter's body as Baxter playfully complained. Burton told Baxter that he loved the man like no other, more than he loved himself. Baxter could only listen as Burton talked about how Baxter kept him sane all these years with his comforting presence. "You kept me sensible, Bax," he told Baxter, "I think I would've gotten myself killed in some idiotic stunt a long time ago if you aren't by my side." It was Baxter's more careful nature that Burton admired and drew strength from. He knew that now, he had known ever since he was seventeen and Baxter was so sick from typhoid that Burton realized that he loved his childhood pest and fuck buddy with an intensity that he had never fully understood. He still did not understand why he could love Baxter so irrevocably, but he embraced his emotions with abandon. It would soon be ten years for them, he told Baxter. He intended to make them last a hundred. And having said that, he would kiss away Baxter's tears and rocked the man to sleep in his arms. And Baxter left for America at the beginning of November. Burton was silent as he knew it would make it hard for the both of them. It was bizarre, but they had never truly been apart for as long as they could remember, and it felt as if Baxter's heart was cracking wider with each step he took away from Burton at the airport. And Burton, standing there, one hand slightly lifted a little as if he wanted to call Baxter back, dark sunglasses to hide the tears that were slowly falling despite his determination not to cry in front of Baxter, looking lost and disconsolate. Baxter couldn't see his lover's eyes, but he could feel the weight of them on him long after the plane took flight. THREE Three months later "Are you sure about this, son?" his mother asked from the doorway. Baxter packed the last of his clothes into his traveling bag. "I'm sure, mom," he said with clear clarity of his emotions. "I love staying here with the family, but Burton needs me more than you do. And I love him. We'll visit as always come Christmas and I'll try and make it for Thanksgiving as well." For the last three months, Baxter had lived the life he might have had if his parents didn't make a mistake by having him when they were too young and given him up for adoption. Baxter wouldn't pretend that his own difficult choices in life could compare to what his parents went through when they decided to give him up, but now he understood them more than he did before. He didn't harbor any more hurt feelings, not that he had ever let his parents know that he had these dark feelings inside his calm facade. He had bonded with his siblings and even met his aunts and uncles and their children. While walking downtown to the local K- Mart and experiencing the pleasant mundanity of helping his parents buy grocery were what his raw nerves needed to slowly heal over time, he also became aware of the restlessness inside him. He wanted to run when everyone around him was taking their own sweet time and walking slowly. He wanted to climb a tree and swing from the branch while imitating Tarzan. His family would think him crazy while Burton would just laugh and cheer him on. He missed Burton. While normalcy was pleasant and he could get used to it, Baxter realized that Burton was more than his love - Burton filled up all the empty spaces in his soul. How sad that he knew only now just how much he and Burton were alike. Baxter wasn't the sensible one or the careful one. He was as much a fool that needed to be reckless and run naked in the wild winds, and this was what Burton had allowed him to do all these years. Baxter knew now that his place was not here but with Burton. Burton was in Serengeti, helping out Sebastian with the research of lions and compilation of material for a BBC documentary. He called Baxter at five in the evening every day - midnight in where Burton was - and Baxter would lock himself in his room and laugh and made small talk with Burton as the man talked about his day and asked about Baxter's. Sometimes things would get steamy and Baxter would push his hands into his shorts as they talked about what they wanted to do with each other with their fingers, tongues, and cocks, and Baxter would come down very late for dinner. "Don't meet any nice regular guy and fall in love, okay?" Burton would say at the end of each call. He was only half-joking. Two nights ago, he said, unsteadily, that he would come down to be with Baxter because he was going crazy living on his own. That was when Baxter realized what he had to do. And Burton shouted "Yeah!" in delight yesterday when Baxter told him that he would be getting the earliest flight he could so that he would be with Burton again. The flight took too long, Baxter thought, although he was grateful that he landed at Johannesburg safely. And there was Burton, pacing the arrivals hallway impatiently until he saw Baxter, upon which he took off his shades as if he couldn't believe his eyes that Baxter was actually here. But Burton's embrace was solid and real, as was his unsteady greeting that he whispered in Baxter's ear before he buried his face in Baxter's shoulder. And Baxter realized, as he felt as if his life was finally solidifying after spending the last few months adrift like a lost spirit, that this decision of his was truly, absolutely right. It was a two-hundred feet drop. Burton watched the world below without fear, at the beautiful canopy of green and the clear waters of the lake below. Naked, his body aglow in the sunlight, his erection standing tall and proud as he got into position, and then he dived. He lost track of all sensation except for the wild rush of wind in his ears and the roar of blood in his head as he fell. The world was a blur. The cold waters hit him with a shocking splash and he recovered quickly to kick his legs and reverse the fall so that he could gracefully swim upwards towards the surface. He gasped for breath as his head emerged from the waters, and laughed as he swam towards the concerned Baxter. His erection had remained hard, hell, it'd probably hardened even further from his adrenaline rush. Laughing still, he ran towards Baxter. He was still laughing when he plunged his cock deep into Baxter, and Baxter, that bastard, was laughing with him all along. "I love you," he said fiercely to Baxter after he could speak, even as his cock pulsed and sent the last few spurts of his powerful ejaculation jetting deep into Baxter's ass to punctuate his words. "I will always love you, Bax. I swear I will never make you regret coming back to me..." Baxter kissed him to stop his babbling. "There is never any regrets, Burt. And there is no question of me not coming back to you. It's just a question of when." He kissed Burton slowly, passionately. "And I love you back," he said in between heated kisses. "I don't know why, but I'm glad as hell that I do and I don't want to stop any time soon." Burton chuckled and kissed the man back with heat, his hips gently pushing his still hard cock deeper into Baxter's well-packed ass, eager to reiterate his undying love and affection for his one true love again and again. Under the stars, at peace, Cliff Burton Roberts claimed his lover, his life, his soulmate Baxter Gregory Jameson, sealed with a kiss and signed with blood, his newly reopened scar on the wrist pressed against the shallow wound on Baxter's wrist, until their bodies succumbed to the inevitable pleasure of their mating and Burton worshipped Baxter with another offering of his powerful male seed. Their legend had only just begun.