THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Pierre 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 When he was furious, Pierre P'ng was a terrifying sight. He kicked open the bedroom door of his obnoxious apartment-mate, also his brother-in-law, and flung the lacy thong at the man on the bed. Robin Leong didn't evade the missile. He put aside his magazine - one of tits and silicon, Pierre noticed in disgust - and looked at Pierre in his most innocent expression. That meant Robin, in Pierre's eyes, looked just like the boy whose hand was caught in the cookie jar. "The only excuse I will accept for this thong in my laundry basket is that you're now a full-blown crossdresser," Pierre said in a low, cold voice. "Hey, relax, man. It's probably some chick's. I picked a few up while you were away. You don't mind, do you?" Robin asked pleasantly. Pierre took a deep, steadying breath. "No, I don't mind that. What I do mind is my coming home from a long trip in which my flight was delayed for six hours to find my house a fucking mess." When Pierre used the f word, Robin knew he was in deep shit. "I left everything neat and clean." He took a deep sniff of the thong. "Ah, this is Marcie's thong." "And I trust that's her blonde hair in my hairbrush as well?" Pierre asked in a dangerously calm voice. "Hmm, could be one of the two blondes I brought here." Seeing how Pierre's face turned an alarming shade of red, Robin quickly said soothingly, "Look, those chicks thought you have a really great selection of toiletries, okay? I must say I borrow your amazing cologne with that unpronounceable French name sometimes, but - hey!" Pierre pushed the nearest of Robin's wushu trophies, just on a shelf near him, down to the floor. He knew full well that Robin's life was wushu and his trophies, mementos of his greatness, were the keys to hurting him back. "You will move out by the end of this week." Robin's mouth fell open in genuine shock. "What?" "Out. O-U-T!" Pierre shouted. Robin threw the sheets off himself. "You're kidding." Pierre instinctively turned away in self-preservation. He couldn't deny that Robin had a great body - well-muscled from over twenty years of vigorous training and fitness regimes for countless wushu tournaments, and there was that thick, meaty cock cushioned by heavy ball sac and surrounded by thick black curls. Pierre's libido sometimes forgot that Robin was his obnoxious apartment- mate and brother-in-law. Or to be technically correct, ex-brother-in-law. Robin was married to Pierre's sister until a year ago. It was a pretty amicable divorce, where Pierre got this feeling that both people involved were more relieved than angry that the marriage was over. Rumor had it that his sister caught Robin in bed with another woman. It was times like this that Pierre questioned his own sanity for letting Robin mess up his life. He went to Singapore a week ago to visit his parents, and came home today to find blonde strands in his hairbrush, his cologne bottle half-empty (it was full a week ago), and the toilet-cum-bathroom stinking to high heaven. His back still ached from jetlag and muscle stiffness, and having to clean the house in that condition drove him over the brink. "Come on, be reasonable," Robin said. Pierre opened his eyes, and swallowed gratefully when he saw that Robin had pulled on baggy shorts and was now pulling his T-shirt down his washboard stomach. "I can't take this any more. You'll move out by the end of this week. I've had it with your slobby lifestyle, you hear me? Get out!" "Hey, don't shout at me. I hear you okay." Robin caught hold of Pierre by the shoulders and turned the man around. "Come on, let's go to the kitchen where I will make you some hot milk. Then we'll talk about this, okay?" Robin looked up from his stirring a hot cup of chocolate milk for Pierre. Pierre, just like the clean-control freak he was, couldn't sit still. He was now frying something - eggs, maybe - and Robin's mouth watered from the smell of what was cooking. Robin placed the cup of chocolate on the table and went to stand behind Pierre. He peered over the man's shoulder and frowned. "Hey, you're frying just one egg. Where's my share?" "Gee, good question." Pierre flipped the egg like the chef he was once when he was a teenager. "Maybe you haven't cooked your own share yet?" "But you always made me dinner," Robin protested. Pierre turned and Robin stepped back, in case Pierre decided to go medieval with that spatula in his hand. "I cook, I wash, I clean, and I fucking do the laundry," he said furiously. "I have to make excuses whenever your girlfriends call and you don't want to see them again, and I have to placate their angry and jealous boyfriends." Anger expelled, Pierre's shoulders hunched in defeat now. "I can't take this, Robin. Please, just go, okay?" "We are good together, yes?" Maybe later Robin would pause to wonder why he didn't want to leave this apartment, but now he just refused to move out. The thought of being alone... no, he wouldn't consider it. "I do my share of the repairs and housework too." Now he wished he hadn't tried so hard in the past to evade his turn at chores. "And... and... we watch TV together!" "I'm not your mother, Robin. I'm too tired, okay? My job is giving me problems, my bosses are probably thinking of firing me, I am in tight financial constraints, so I don't need this, okay?" To Robin's horror, Pierre closed his eyes and bent over the sink. A tear started to fall down one long-lashed eye, followed by another. Pierre started to sob in dry, angry heaves. Robin shook his head, trying to clear his confusion. Pierre, strong if fussy and inflexible Pierre, crying? "Don't do this, Pierre," he pleaded. "I'm fucking lousy at comforting people, so don't do this." He just ran his hands up and along the slopes of Pierre's shoulders awkwardly. Pierre chuckled with brittle humor. "Oh yeah, I know." "Is it that bad?" Robin asked quietly. "Look, why don't you let me pay your share of the rent and utility bills first - " "Have you seen your phone bill?" Pierre asked bluntly. Robin bit his lower lip. He was just a lifeguard, and he worked only to pass the time between wushu tournaments. His real job was training every day in the evening for five hours. "I can sell my trophies." Pierre smiled weakly. "Thanks, but I can still pay the bills. Don't worry about me, okay? I just had a lousy day." Of which Robin was partially the cause, Robin conceded. He didn't know what to say to make things better. "Don't make me leave," was the only thing he could say with absolute certainty, and even if it made him look like the most selfish fool in the world, he had to say it. He had to make Pierre see it even if he couldn't see it himself why he didn't want to leave. It hit him out of the blue, the solution. A simple, perfect solution, really. Robin could change. He would be what Pierre wanted him to be - a responsible, reliable confidante. Not a man for long-term plans, he was rather taken aback by his enthusiasm at the idea. Yes, he could do that. He would be Pierre's dream apartment-mate. Now all he needed to do was to figure out how to get started. TWO One: get home early and clean the house. No, wait, buy groceries first. Then two: make Pierre dinner. Robin's list was short, but he realized that shopping wasn't as easy as he expected. He couldn't tell apart fresh fish from those not-so-fresh in the Chinatown wet market, he couldn't bargain well in Cantonese, and he had no idea where to find half the ingredients in that easy (fuck, hah!) cookbook he bought. Fine. Now Robin only hoped that Pierre wouldn't notice that the wrong kind of cleaning solution was used on the floor. Who was he kidding? Of course Pierre would notice just as he would notice the now shattered vase (Robin bumped against it while trying to clean the floor). Pierre had a bloodhound's nose for Robin's mistakes. Sometimes Pierre was just like the mother he never had. Maybe that was why he liked Pierre a lot when so many people thought that the man was just a nervous breakdown waiting to happen. Pierre nagged, fussed, and yelled at Robin, and well, Robin never had anyone doing that over him before. Women fell under his spell too easily, and they indulged him shamelessly, so he had never had them mothering him before. Only Pierre... well, cared, in Robin's way of looking at things. He didn't like living with anyone else but Pierre. This morning, when Robin went for a job interview, Pierre gave a snort as he pulled a leaving Robin back into the hall and adjusted Robin's tie so that the tie looked much more sophisticatedly done. Robin knew it then: he didn't want to leave Pierre because if he did, he would be cast back in the world where everything seemed to go his way. The problem was, half the time he couldn't think where he wanted to go. He only wanted fun, wushu victories, and sex - those were all he had on his priority list. Only Pierre would rein him in and bring some order to the chaos of his life. And Robin had learned to like that order very much. He would not screw this up. He was a fair man, and he would not just take everything from Pierre and not give anything back. "Fuck!" He dashed into the kitchen when he saw dark smoke coming out of the microwave oven. At the same time, he heard the front door open - Pierre. Sure enough, two seconds later, came Pierre's furious yell: "Robin!" Robin couldn't help grinning. Call him crazy, but he liked it when Pierre yelled at him. "He ruined my kitchen!" Pierre wailed the next day. "And now my right leg is broken!" "I'll pay for the medical," the construction site supervisor Alan Gelfant said as he wheeled Pierre down the hallway of the hospital. "You'll be okay." "It's my fault," Pierre admitted. "I was clumsy to trip over like that. But Alan, my leg is broken! I want to have Thai food tonight, and how am I going to have Thai food with a cast on my leg like this?" "He didn't hit his head?" Alan asked the doctor discreetly. The doctor shook her head. "I can give him another check-up," she suggested. The hospital doors at the far end were pushed open as a medium- height square-jawed man dashed towards them. Alan guessed that this was Pierre's ex-brother-in-law. Just how did those two disparate weirdos ended up bunking in the same apartment, Alan never wanted to know. "Hey, you okay?" Robin got down on one knee and winced at the sight of Pierre's cast. "I got Alan's call and - " "Get away from me!" Robin demanded. "I don't want you breaking my leg any further." Far from being offended, Robin just chuckled. "Looks like you're stuck at home. I will have to take leave to take care of you." Pierre opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and finally gave up. He just stared at Robin, his face deadly pale from genuine fear. THREE Pierre hated to admit it one week later, but he enjoyed Robin's brand of care. When the man got down to playing caretaker, he got down to it with the enthusiasm of a puppy given its first bone. The man would get down on one knee to remove Pierre's shoes or trousers, and yeah, that was hell as well as heaven, because Robin's touch could drive a priest wild. Robin had rough but gentle hands, Pierre learned to his dismay. Hands that had probably lured many innocents into their willing corruption, no doubt, but gentle seductive hands nonetheless. It became worse at night, when Robin, wearing only a pair of running shorts, would come to Pierre's bed, freshly bathed, and arrange Pierre's pillows. All the while he would chat in that mischievous and irreverant way that was his alone, not seeming to notice that his nipples often passed within licking distance from Pierre's mouth. Their thighs touched, rubbed sometimes, and sometimes their chests too... it was pure torture. Pierre tried telling Robin that he could take care of himself, but Robin wouldn't have any of that. "I won't change my mind about you leaving," he tried to tell Robin. "You're such a bitch. I'm just being nice and taking care of my ex- bro-in-law. You need painkillers, Pierre?" "No." "A drink?" "No." "A - " "No!" "I've never taken care of anybody before, but I'm starting to like pushing your buttons," Robin said smugly. "Goodnight, Pierre. Sweet dreams." "Drop dead, asshole." Robin chuckled as he closed the door. Pierre knocked clumsily on Robin's door. He pushed it open slightly and peered into the shadows. "Robin? You awake?" "I am now." Pierre could see the man lifting his upper body to look up at Pierre. "Look, I'm sorry I'm such a rude bastard," said Pierre. "I don't have any excuse, and you are just trying to take care of me. You don't deserve the shit I give you this week because of my leg. I'm sorry." Robin let the silence tick past, and Pierre felt more and more uncomfortable and guilty, until Robin said gently, "I'm sorry for what I did to you too. Good night, bro-in-law." "Good night, Robin." Pierre closed the door and made his way back to his room, feeling lighter than before. Robin was horny. Taking care of Pierre was pretty decent now that Pierre was nicer and sweeter to him, but it crimped his lifestyle too. He used to have his weekends free for wild stuff, but now he spent them sitting beside Pierre arguing over what to watch. Naturally, his movies, all testosterone-charged, made Pierre nauseous while Pierre's brand of long-winded epic dramas and love stories put Robin to sleep. They compromised by watching both their choices each night, and Robin had to say, he actually got a kick out of watching Pierre snore, his glasses fallen in an awkward angle as the man sprawled on the couch, his moustache and small goatee just the picture of elegant gentleman standards that Robin once envied Pierre for. Most interesting, he was horny but he couldn't find any desire to seek out other people. He had a hard-on for... Pierre? When it came to sex, Robin never questioned. He just plunged right in, so to speak. Now, he did question briefly - how did it come about, he who never gave guys any second look before? Maybe it was just Pierre, who was nice again and they were now like the times before Pierre made that trip to Singapore, they arguing and bickering often but always being there for each other in small ways. He liked flustering Pierre, and he liked Pierre bossing over him. Who knows, anal sex with Pierre might be fun. Robin pondered at that. He had a varied sex life, but he never actually fucked anybody in the ass before. Under his growing lust, he soon noticed that Pierre had a very nice, tight bubble-butt. Robin also noticed that Pierre looked at him. Not just looks - shy looks that were averted when Pierre noticed that Robin was looking back. Shy looks at Robin's crotch, arms, and chest - shy looks that made Robin's cock harden as hard as rock and even his nipples stand erect. Maybe they would both get the hot anal fuck they both wanted. Robin pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shorts. He gave his erect cock a few rubs for good luck, pausing at the bathroom door to spread the slippery drops oozing from his piss slit all over his wide cock head. His cock had reached tumescence such that his foreskin was already pulled back to reveal his tip almost back under the ridge. He pulled it back entirely and pushed open the bathroom door. Pierre didn't turn. "I can bathe by myself." At that, his soap dropped to the floor and with one hand on the towel rail for support, Pierre slowly bent down to retrieve it. "Tsk, tsk. Never bend down before a horny man, Pierre," Robin drawled. "What?" Pierre gasped when Robin stepped up behind him and that huge moist tip of his fitted against the muscular ring of his rear entrance. "R-Robin?" "Yep, me, Robin." Robin started coring in deep, unable to believe the incredible tightness of Pierre's anus that almost tore his foreskin off. Then he pressed Pierre against the wall and started pumping into the man in deep, slow thrusts. "Oh fuck, harder, yeah, faster!" Pierre cried. "Fuck, too big... too... ah!" That was fast, Robin thought dimly as Pierre convulsed into a prime orgasm. His own balls rose as the knot of pleasure tightened at the base of his spine. Then he exploded, blasting millions of proven-fertile sperm into Pierre's scorched rectum, pushing Pierre against the wall as he thrust hard and shallow stabs with each ejaculation. Yeah, anal sex was great alright. Maybe he ought to do it again to Pierre just to make sure. "I'm curious. Why did you fuck me?" Robin groaned at that question and looked at the other man lying his head on his chest. "Because we both wanted it," he answered simply. "Why are you psychoanalyzing this? It was good, right? You came too with me every time, and I know you are not faking the orgasms." "I can't stop worrying!" Pierre exclaimed. "You're a womanizing bastard who is also irresponsible. You cheated on my sister. You can't just fuck me like a wild bull and then expect me to wave my hands and say 'See ya'!" "'Wild bull', huh?" Robin laughed when Pierre pinched his nipples in retaliation. "Look, Pierre, I can't read your mind, okay, so tell me, how do you want this to be? You want us to go steady?" "Can you?" "Why not?" Robin asked affably. "God, you turn my world upside down until I don't know which way is top anymore. You can make me break down out of exhaustion." Pierre sighed. "I need to relax. Go do some yoga or something." "Hey, give me a try," said Robin persuasively. "Gay sex isn't bad. Maybe I'm bisexual after all." He reached out and touched a drop of semen on the tip of his cock. "Quite salty but nice," he said, tasting it. He looked at the mess between Pierre's thighs. "Can I...?" Pierre stopped his rant and nodded. "What did you say?" he gasped when Robin buried his head between Pierre's thighs. Oh, that tongue... "This is as good as cunt," came Robin's muffled voice. "Splendid. Keep eating." Pierre felt Robin's cock tip rubbing against his cheek, so he turned his head and took that monster into his mouth. Robin swore that he couldn't walk straight the next morning. FOUR "What's this?" asked Pierre months later when he saw Robin walk in with a covered tray. "My kitchen?" he asked warily. "I bought this," Robin answered. Pierre relaxed. He had been listening to relaxation technique tapes recently while Robin did the housework. His job sucked, he was looking for a new job and wasn't sure if he would ever find one, but hey, he had Robin for support. It was a scary notion, but Robin wasn't too bad at that. He was slowly becoming better at communicating outside the bedroom, while Pierre was slowly exorcising his impatience and excess worrying. Maybe they would work out after all. "What's this for?" he asked when Robin lifted the cover to reveal a roast chicken. Normally, Pierre would cook. Robin was a horrendous cook. "My sixth month of fidelity to you," Robin announced cheerfully. "Never thought I can get this far, but hey, I did, so it's a cause for celebration." "But our anniversary is next week," Pierre told him. "I started wanting you a week earlier, and that's today six months ago." "Oh." Pierre looked at the badly cut piece of chicken Robin cheerfully placed on the plate. He stabbed at the piece, not wanting to see Robin massacre the rest of the chicken with his knife. If Robin could cook, he would be perfect. But Pierre wasn't perfect either. "Six months," he said. He couldn't believe it either. Surely he wasn't a fun guy to be around for six months. "I've had offers," Robin said. "But I'm as good as married now. You'll see. I'll win a gold medal at the wushu tourney next month just for you." Pierre tried to hide his grin, but what the fuck, he didn't try too hard. "Cheers, my wushu champ." "And cheers." Robin touched the rim of his glass against that of Pierre's. "By the way, can we skip the sweet nothings after dinner and get to the hot fucking? We haven't fucked for two days now, and I'm kinda having blue balls at the moment. It's your fault, you're such a hot piece of ass." Some things would never change, Pierre decided. And thank you for that, he added in his mind after a brief consideration.