THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Cuba 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. ONE This was his last job. After this, he would be free to live a life of lazy fishing, playing bingo with old coots, and maybe finding a few nice guys every weekend for some fun and fuck. While his bodyguard career was uneventful - there might be a few royalty and Hollywood A-list clients, but never any bombs or murder attempts - he did harbor some secret wish that he would end his career with a bang. Which probably was why he agreed to do his old friends Jeremy and Julian a favor and take this last case. Julian promised that it would be pretty uneventful as the two men and their underlings were working overtime to make sure it would be, but Cuba knew that while Julian meant what he said all the time, Julian's promises tended to go haywire. It was a simple job, Jeremy had told him in a fax. He would take one Michael Weatherly on his luxury cruise, the both of them would lay low and mingle with the other gay couples onboard, and then he would send Michael back when Jeremy or Julian sent word. Cuba made a quick search and learned that Michael Weatherly was some sort of Bruce Wayne of New York. The man was only thirty-two, but he had made so much money from so many different ventures that he invested those money in more profitable ventures that... well, he had a stake in most powerful companies, making him a powerful, almost omnipotent know-all guy. At the same time, he kept a low profile. Cuba had never found a single photo of that man in his research of journals and magazines and internet articles. Not bad, what Michael did, for a man who was the son of a circus performer called the Monkey Man. Cuba paced Julian's office. Where was everybody? He wanted to eat fancy luxury cruise food as soon as possible. He always wondered how those square prawn-like things tasted. However, he nonetheless stared at the man who walked in soon after. "You expect a walking gorilla?" the man who had to be Michael Weatherly remarked dryly as he took a seat. "It's amazing what electrolysis can do to excessive body hair. Try it sometime... or not." Cuba couldn't stop himself from rubbing his short-cropped hair. Michael Weatherly was, no doubt in his mind, stunning. More than stunning, really. At first glimpse, he seemed like a pretty GQ model type, who Cuba would admire and then move on. The man's aristocratic nose, sensual lips, and emerald-sapphire eyes bestowed upon him an arrogance that seemed descended from a long line of privilege. He wasn't just pretty - he commanded attention like a general. Those hands - Cuba noticed that the lower third of Michael's long elegant fingers had heavy strands of hair. Michael already had a thick stubble, despite it being only eleven in the morning. Every other inch of the man's body was clothed in dark velvet brocade and charcoal colors. This man was a hirsute Bruce Wayne melodrama alright. His question must have shown on his face, because Michael Weatherly only smiled challengingly and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Cuba's mouth dried and he felt his cock threatening to burst from his pants as Michael undid another button, exposing a triangle of tanned, well-muscled, but smooth flesh. "I don't have a hair rug, but be assured there are hair around my cock and at my armpits." Cuba chuckled. "Look, man, I'm not comparing you to a monkey." "Really?" "Haven't anyone looked at you in admiration before? Because that's what I'm doing. I'm ogling at you," stated Cuba, mildly frustrated that he was. What was wrong with this man? Touchy, touchy, touchy. Michael blinked. He actually looked befuddled at Cuba's words. "Okay," he finally conceded. "Look, if we are to do this well, we must be honest with each other. That's my way. If you have any lovers, enemies, pets, in- laws, anyone and anything that will add to the troubles we may face later, please let me know. And I'll be honest with you too. I like looking at you, but that's it." "I like your honesty policy. I have no lovers at the moment, but I always have enemies. As for my recent troubles, I'll let Julian explain it to you." Michael crossed his legs and studied Cuba. "Tell me again how beautiful you find me." Cuba snorted. "You're full of crap." He grinned at the man, who flashed a dazzling display of pearly white and straight teeth back. "Unbutton all the way and we'll talk," he said in a husky voice as his libido got a backhand from that smile. Michael's hand released another button, and Cuba took a step closer to him. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic is hell," said Julian McMahon as he swept into the room. He stopped and looked questioningly at the other two men. "Am I interrupting anything?" TWO "How the hell did a nerd like you end up pissing off the mob?" Cuba was still in a state of disbelief two days later. "Man, it doesn't seem natural." "I'll assume that's a rhetorical question." Michael sighed in pleasure as he let the sea breeze dance on his skin. His unbuttoned shirt billowed back like a black Batman cape, and his supple, well-muscled body glowed a healthy tan in the sunlight. Cuba saw the nearby passengers giving Michael dazed looks. He couldn't blame them. Michael was a menace. He walked around, seemingly oblivious to the danger he was posing with his beauty. Hell, he felt like drooling himself. He shoved his itching fingers into the waistband of his light blue swim trunks, not wanting to do anything stupid like grabbing that man for a kiss. He never dated or slept with any of his clients before. He never intended to start now. Sex and emotions jeopardize a stint. It made people careless. Cuba crossed his arms and stood between Michael and the ogling passengers. He knew he looked like a pathetic, overpossessive boyfriend, but hell, he wasn't too concerned. He had a few invitations too, albeit insulting ones. Most people here are White folks who would love nothing better than to indulge in some Black meat fantasy with him. No thanks, really. He gave that up after he left his adolescence. Of course, he also knew that these people were more of Michael's type - rich, pretty bastards. Cuba didn't know why that irritated him especially. "You actually killed the mob boss," Cuba murmured. "Amazing." Michael placed his hands on Cuba's shoulders and turned the man to face him face-to-face. Cuba looked at Michael's hands, pale against his rich dark skin, and despite the warning in his mind and the thundering in his chest, he stepped closer to Michael. And damn Michael, he spread his legs so that Cuba could step between them. Their cock bulges brushed at the tip, just that, but it was enough to destroy all inhibitions in Cuba's mind. There was a barrier of lycra, silk, and cotton between them, but both were very aware of the throbbing of desire in their increasingly tumescent cocks. Michael's eyes shone with triumph as Cuba pressed home and the man reached down to cup and knead Cuba's taut buttocks. "It's easy. Negotiate at the hundredth floor, and then push the man out the specially-weakened window pane. You see, I can take care of myself, and I will take care of my people. I'm just doing this bodyguard stunt to appease the shareholders." Michael shuddered as Cuba rimmed his tongue along Michael's ear, and Michael pressed his fingers into the cleft of the man's buttocks, earning a shudder of pleasure from Cuba. Cuba lifted one leg and pinned Michael against the railing. He began making short, barely noticeable thrusts of his throbbing cock bulge against Michael's even as he started talking sweet nonsensical nothings. Michael murmured back equally nonsensical nothings, both of them looking just like lovers talking and admiring the view. Michael gasped softly as he felt his balls starting to tighten in imminent climax. Cuba's rhythm was insistent, and the man's cock stretched against the fabric of his trunks so powerfully that Michael could feel the shape of the man's thick cock rubbing against him. It was as if Cuba was naked - a potent image that drove him into tight convulsions as he ejaculated hard. "You killed him. Man, that is fucking sexy. Marry me," Cuba said harshly as he too felt the impending climax. He groaned and arched his back slightly as his cock exploded. They held each other, their eyes locked as they drowned in each other's climax. Cuba couldn't resist: he licked the lower lip of Michael's, letting the tip of his tongue follow the plump curve. Michael's lips parted, and Cuba let his tongue slip inside. It was potent pleasure, and Michael was an intoxicating aphrodisiac. It was only when they needed air did they break off the kiss. "I'll be honest," Michael said, his voice rough from unquenched desire. "I want you." Cuba squealched ruthlessly his barbaric male triumph. "I don't get involved with clients." Michael looked mockingly down at Cuba's crotch. While Michael had a large wet spot in his crotch, it was nothing compared to Cuba's trunks, so wet that it outlined the full extent of Cuba's overly well-endowed state. Unmistakable creamy streaks seeped out from the brief trunks down Cuba's thighs. "You'll control yourself," Cuba said weakly. "Oh yes, we have to be professional about this." Cuba growled and kissed Michael again. He was doomed, and they both knew it. THREE They were not having sex. Cuba placed both his hands on the sink and prayed for control. They would survive this, act like professionals, and that was it. They would not fuck. Seriously, he was determined not to. Michael had an evil gleam in his eye as he lay on his bed. He was wearing only a brief pair of boxer shorts, revealing his hairy legs and a thin line of fur that ran along the bisection of his corrugated stomach to disappear into the waistband of his shorts. He spread his legs, that slut, and gestured at Cuba. "Come here." Cuba pushed down at his cock threatening to burst out of his briefs. "You're not making me do this." "Come on, don't play hard to get. You've checked the guestlist, made sure the windows and door are safe, what else do you want? I can take care of myself. Come on, let's play." "I will not be your holiday fling," Cuba growled. "Fine. I'll just play with myself." That got Cuba's attention. "You won't." Michael started to reach into his shorts. That did it. Cuba pounced on the man. Michael pulled and struggled valiantly at the handcuffs. "Can I persuade you to take advantage of me while I'm all trussed up?" He was cuffed spreadeagled to the foot and end of the bed with four handcuffs. Cuba straddled him and scowled even as he rubbed his cock bulge absently. Michael licked his lips appreciatively. "You look great in those briefs," he said as he arched his back, letting his own erection graze the juncture of Cuba's legs. "Cuba, please." "Stop this, please," Cuba pleaded. Michael stopped. "Cuba, it's okay." "No, it's not." "You're in the bodyguard business for too long. I can take care of myself, how many times must I say that? See? I was born in a circus. I am a trained escape artist, see?" To Cuba's amazement, Michael easily slipped his hands out of the cuffs and then his legs. "I am also good with the knife, and I know how to shoot." Cuba sighed at the red bruises around Michael's hands. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he stared at the red welts, and then he kissed the bruise on one hand, and then the other. "Bruises are part of the repertoire," Michael said gently. "See? I twist my hand like this. When I was a hairy monkey kid, I had to learn to get out of cages, locks, cuffs, ropes, anything." "Wow. It must be fun." "Not at all. I wanted to be normal, and all those people laughed at me. I was a circus kid, what else could I do but to be a freakshow? I showed them. I went to school where everybody thought I was a freak, but I showed them. I'm rich now. They all want to be my friends now. But that's the funny part. I'm still Michael Weatherly, the monkey boy they called a freak." "Just Michael Weatherly," Cuba echoed. "Yeah, just me. I was a virgin until I made my first million dollars. Then everyone started tripping over each other just to sleep with me and win my favors. They call me pretty. Me, Monkey Boy, pretty! They must think I'm a fool." "Do you believe me when I say you're pretty?" Cuba asked quietly. "I do." Michael shook his head slightly. "You're different. You don't want to curry my favor, and you are honest with me. So yes, I trust you when you say I am pretty to you. I know, you think I'm a spoiled rich White kid, but I'm not, Cuba. I am a freak who has learned the hard way how to survive." "I'm sorry," Cuba said again. "Don't be. Thanks for taking care of me, even if Julian and Jeremy asked you to." Cuba smiled at the man's words, and despite his best judgement, took the man in his arms. Michael buried his face in Cuba's muscular shoulders and inhaled deep. "Hold me tonight?" Michael asked. Cuba nodded. Cuba touched Michael's beard, and marveled at how soft it felt despite its prickly appearence. "Don't get too attached. I always shave it off in the morning," Michael said, opening his eyes. "But it'll grow back," Cuba told him. "Yeah. I'm told I look better with stubble." Michael grinned. "I guess you agree." "Whoever those cheap sluts are, they are right. You look great this way. And with those glasses too." Cuba's hand trembled as it caressed Michael's jawline. "I can't resist, Michael." "So don't." Cuba didn't answer. He kissed Michael. Michael kissed him back, and his hands, now familiar with every inch of Cuba's powerful body, slipped down Cuba's briefs. Cuba nibbled on Michael's lower lip, alternating with kissing the man, but he didn't fight Michael. Michael felt a surge of victory. Cuba wouldn't fight, couldn't fight anymore. Michael pushed down Cuba's precum-stained briefs and gasped as his hand found Cuba's massive erection. His fingers could barely close around the thick flesh. His thumb rubbed the length of Cuba's piss slit, spreading the large drops of oozing pearly drops over the wide, engorged crown. The burst of ecstasy took him by surprise as Cuba's cock crown stretched and pushed into Michael's rear entrance. Michael felt his flesh protest at the massive girth of Cuba's cock, but his flesh also rejoiced at the invasion. Pleasure seized him, holding him in thrall as he came in the hardest climax he could ever remember, his own cock spurting hot semen onto his stomach. Cuba only plunged deeper, taking Michael slowly inch by inch. There was so much of him, Michael went wild with impatience at the complete taking. He cried out the other man's name as he arched his hips, needing completion. Cuba's answering groan reverberated across the cabin as his thick pubic bush pressed against Michael's balls. Michael was trembling from the unbelievable sensation of Cuba's entire length submerged in his heated depths. Then Cuba lifted his body and supported his weight on his arms, and his hips started making long, deep thrusts of the fuck rhythm. When Michael was close to coming, Cuba gritted his teeth and changed to short, hard stabs of his cock, urging them both to lose control and enjoy the pleasure. Michael screamed as he came, and this caused Cuba to laugh weakly. The pleasure in Michael's eyes compelled Cuba to drop his hard-held control. He spilled into Michael in powerful, spurting waves, and groaned as Michael milked him of every last drop. FOUR The poor room service boy fled without taking his tip. He probably had no idea what to make of a man being fucked by a powerful Black man against the wall. The boy shut the door just as those two obviously were hitting the motherload. He had no idea that those two hadn't left the room for two days now. Cuba laughed as Michael sprayed whipped cream on his cum-slicked cock and stuck strawberry pieces on the creamy mountain. His laugh faded however when Michael started to feast, and Cuba's own cream soon added to Michael's appetite. When they were between heated couplings, they lay on the bed and talked. Cuba teased Michael's insecurities and Michael mocked Cuba's overprotective streak. They talked of their childhood, and Cuba vowed to shoot all those bullies in Michael's past. They had a great time. They coaxed pleasure from each other's flesh, and when Cuba came, it felt as if he was pouring not just his semen, but also his heart and soul into Michael. Michael accepted them all. They never said anything about that, however. Maybe they just knew. Cuba cursed when he opened the door five days later and found Jeremy Northam standing outside. He lowered his gun and glared at Jeremy. Jeremy's smile turned into a grimace when he caught whiff of the cabin. "Jesus, it smells like fuck in there. Don't you two need fresh air?" "What is it?" Michael asked, unheeding of his nudity as he came to stand behind Cuba. "Someone I know in trouble?" "No. Put something on, both of you, for crying out loud!" Jeremy stepped back. "It's over. The men are all caught and Julian's faxing the FBI even now. Michael, you will be called to testify, but for now, it's over." "Wait a minute. It's not over. He'll still need protection," Cuba insisted. "Protection? You're not even using any," Jeremy said back. Cuba slammed the door in Jeremy's face. "It's over," he told Michael. He felt... miserable, damn it, as if his heart had just been ripped out of his chest. It hurt unbelievably. "I still need a bodyguard," Michael said simply. "I like the idea of having one around me all the time rather appealing lately." "I wanted to live a quiet life," Cuba mused. "But fuck that. You want a bodyguard? You got me, Michael." Michael grinned as he placed his palms over Cuba's nipples. "I want you, more than anything else I've ever wanted." "In the meantime, Cuba, Julian and I would like to discuss with you about the possibilities of expanding into the bodyguard business. We could use some help - and a new partner," came Jeremy's muffled voice. "Get the fuck away, Jeremy, and leave me and my man in peace," Cuba yelled back. Michael laughed as Jeremy yelled an expletive. "I'm your man now?" "Oh yes, my man, definitely." Cuba locked the door and lifted Michael who clasped his legs around Cuba's waist. "You think you can take this hung big brother, whiteboy?" Michael gasped as Cuba started feeding his cock into Michael. "I'll take everything you got." He held on for dear life as Cuba fucked him right there, standing in the middle of the room. He soon cried out his orgasm, and Cuba sealed their deal with heavy blasts of his spunk. "Deal," Michael gasped as Cuba slowly lowered him onto the floor. "Deal," Cuba agreed.