THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Thomas 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 Simon Baker stabbed the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray and studied the man seated across the table once more. He never tired of studying the other man's face, out of dispassionate curiosity: Christopher Meloni's face was clean, handsome in a wholesome and clear-cut way, and his jaw line was square and sexy as hell. Simon thought he'd never find jaw lines sexy, but here you go. Chris' jaw line was sexy as hell. Music played in the pub. Colin, Simon's other half, had a habit of putting coins into the jukebox so that music from the 80's - Culture Club, Duran Duran, A-Ha - would play. Colin loved music from that decade, and since he moved in, Simon found his CD rack increasingly taken over by long disbanded groups and singers. Colin was getting along with Chris' own guy, Tom Scott, probably because both men married fucked-up losers. "Thank you," Chris said, breaking the silence. "No need," Simon said, and watched as Chris took the cigarette pack from Simon and lit one up. "I'm still surprised that you will even take my case." Simon shrugged. "Just because I prefer to take up cases against the establishment does not mean that I'm a moral person myself." "Really?" Chris' eyes were filled with curiosity, but he didn't ask. Men with secrets never pried into each other's closet. "We all have our own skeletons in our closets," Simon said, confirming Chris' suspicions. "You say it's self defense. I believe you." "You never did," Chris corrected him. "Love, Chris, is as good a reason as any for self defense." Simon's answer made even a hardened man like Chris flinch. Simon just smiled that mocking smile of his - only Colin, as people who knew Simon would notice almost immediately, had the privilege of receiving Simon's free, gentle smile. A hard man who was brittle and some say even emotionless, Simon seemed to be remotely alive only when he was with Colin. As for Colin, there was always some wild, even violent, undercurrent in him that only Simon seemed to calm. On their own, both men were barely functional as human beings. Together, they made a strangely perfect couple. Colin took to Tom like Simon had never seen him behave with anyone else. Were he some other guy, he would be jealous, but he knew Colin. This was Colin who once almost beat a man until Simon stopped him in time because the man was flirting with Colin. There was something twisted, dark, and romantic in Colin violently rejecting the idea of anyone but Simon touching him in a sexual way. Simon only smiled in genuine fondness he rarely felt for anyone as he watched Colin demonstrated some embarrassingly 1980s dance step to Tom. Simon thought he'd seen that dance move in Dirty Dancing. "Cute guy you have," Chris remarked. "Yours aren't bad." "I heard about that case where he took bullets for you." Simon just exhaled, and cigarette fumes filled the space between he and Chris. "Maybe one day we should sit down and exchange our love stories." He smirked at the other man. "My man was supposed to kill me, but he protected me instead. How did you and Tom meet?" "In prison." At Simon's lifted brow, Chris elaborated. "I was in for robbery, assault, et cetera, while he was a blue collar criminal who would have gotten away if his superior, whom he was fucking, got pissed and ratted on him. We made an exchange one day when I saved his ass from the other guys. I get his ass, and I keep him to myself only." "Oh, and this continues after you got out?" Simon hadn't heard this one. All he knew was that Chris and Tom were cheats. Tom would be the smooth and slick conman who worked his way into the rich mark's acquaintance and later had Chris aiding him in wiping the mark clean. The brain and the brawn, as Colin's favorite group Pet Shop Boys would sing in that Billionaire Boys Club movie. "Yeah. It's supposed to be just fucking, you know?" "But it's never that easy," Simon remarked. "No. Not when Won Bin - " Chris still said that name as if it was a foul curse - "seemed to be taking him away from me. Like you said, I realized almost too late that I love him." They watched silently as Tom said something that made Colin laugh out loud. "Want to tell me your story?" Simon asked. "Judging from the way our two boys are getting on over their shared love for screwed-up men and horrid 80's music, we may be here for the rest of the night." Chris shrugged and called for more beer. ONE Ah, the airport! Thomas Everett Scott had always loved wasting his time at the airport, as his parents used to lecture him when they were alive. The JFK Airport was his favorite place on Earth. Of course, that was probably because he hadn't actually been anywhere outside New York, but maybe one day, he might get a stamp or a shiny visa on his passport. He would sit down here at the arrivals and just watched as people came through the shiny, sliding paned doors from a trip. He munched on his giant pack of jelly beans and gave a silent sigh of wistful longing as he witnessed an elderly man being pounced on by a girl of probably ten. A woman ran up to them, and she said loudly, "Welcome home, Dad," in a voice that seemed choked up with emotion. Lucky bastard, Tom thought. Tom could wish he would be so lucky one day. It was then he saw the man. Tom saw, in his weekly visit to the airport, people of all creed, color, and appearances, and he had admired a few good-looking guys once in a while. He didn't like getting close to the scenes he witnessed in the airport. The tears of reunion, the jet lag, and other myriads of expressions and feelings of the people around him were best experienced vicariously. Tom knew he would never be one of these people. He would never travel abroad, probably, and he would never have someone missing him when he was gone. He had long given up dreaming to even imagine that he would see the rest of the world one day. But when he saw this man, the world seemed to fade into nothingness. It was surreal - the world seemed to slow down until this handsome stranger seemed to be captured in slow frames the way old movies played on an antique projector. This handsome stranger turned to look at Tom, as if compelled by the very same instinct that made Tom notice him, and the man actually smiled. It was a too brief smile that made Tom's soul warm as if touched by the sun. Then someone crashed into the stranger, and the stranger laughed as he steadied the young woman who had walked right into him. The spell broken, the stranger walked away without another look at Tom. The spell broken, Tom looked down at the bag in his hand. His mood for candies evaporated, he put it atop the copy of his favorite Clive Cussler novel. And yet, he looked once more, hoping that the stranger had returned, maybe just to say hi, but just as he suspected, the stranger had gone on his merry way. Everyone always walked past Tom, saying hi and goodbye, but never once looking back to see the abandoned and lonely man left behind. TWO Christopher Keller Meloni cried out as Tom sucked the hot spunk out of his cock. He came in a thundering rush, his fingers roughly hold Tom's head still as he rammed his spurting cock savagely into Tom's voraciously sucking and swallowing mouth until he was spent. Drained, he fell back to stagger against the wall. "You're a good fuck," he said in a harsh, guttural tone as he reached down to zip up his jeans. "My perfect bitch." He was pleased with himself and Tom that he didn't see Tom's eyes and the way the man recoiled at his words. Tom was, in fact, currently wishing that he hadn't swallowed the way Chris wanted him to. Chris' spunk was bitter in his throat, bitter because even now, Chris' treatment of him still hurt. Tom knelt on the floor, knowing that now Chris would pull his shirt over his head, exposing that powerfully muscled torso. Almost every night, Chris would fuck Tom until Tom thought he would be torn open in two. Chris' cock, average-sized when quiescent, was a monster when aroused, and its thickness and Chris' savage fucking would arouse Tom to a feverishly orgasmic pitch every time. Naked now, a powerful specimen of virility, Chris moved to cover Tom. He never asked, he never did. He just spread Tom's legs wide and he didn't even wait for Tom to lift his waist high. He just plunged to the hilt hard, and Tom, despite himself, would convulse into a powerful climax just by that penetration alone. His hands could never get enough of Chris' body. He moved his palm over hard pectorals, smooth skin, erect male tits, and down that powerfully corrugated stomach to bury his fingers into Chris' thick soft crotch curls. He closed his eyes, enjoying the ravages of his ass, the way Chris' abs clenched and relaxed with each of the man's fuck thrusts. Like a junkie addicted to the worst drugs, he wanted this. He hated Chris' holding him in thrall, but he craved the man's fucking. Sometimes he hated them both so much that he even thought of killing Chris. His climax wracked him in powerful seizures, but it left him feeling tainted and humiliated. That night, Chris tried to hold him, like the man did every night, but Tom spitefully pushed him away. Chris, who never could get the message, thought Tom was playing. He grabbed Tom to pin the man down, and predictably this led to another round of hard, violent fucking. He had to get out, he realized. Once, in a mock playful tone, he asked what Chris would do if he just packed his bags and disappeared from this place. "I'll hunt you down," Chris said nonchalantly. "I will find you, Tom, you can be assured of that." Tom never found the courage to leave. But when he stood there outside the wonderful store The World Traveler, looking at the globes and souvenirs from all over the world longingly, he wanted to fly. He wanted to be a real gentleman for once, not just a fake who conned people, and he wanted to see the world. "I want to see Switzerland," he once said aloud. "What's wrong with this place?" Chris asked, and belched. Remembering that scene, Tom now closed his eyes and wondered how he had come to this point, where his protector and sweet virile lover had become the very albatross around his neck. Once he even thought that this was enough, he loved Chris, and everything would be okay. How stupid he was. How sad they both were. THREE "I'm Anthony Kim Do-Jin, but friends call me Won Bin," the handsome stranger said. From his name, Tom guessed that Won Bin was Korean. Dressed in black suit and red bow tie according to the dress code, Won Bin made a stunningly handsome man. His lips were blistering in their sensual invitation, while those eyes were pure bedroom eyes. The delicately formed facial structure was almost feminine, but Won Bin was definitely male. He was also Tom's stranger at the airport. This latest con job had just become gloriously complicated. Tom couldn't breathe, and he wished he could jumpstart his brain into action. "Tom." Shit, he should've given his name as Mark, as he and Chris had planned, but he couldn't think. "Tom, care for a dance?" Tom forgot everything. He forgot how he ended up here, laughing aloud in the shadowed gardens of the mansion ground as Won Bin took his hand and ran down the path. He ran, oh, he ran, and he had never felt this alive - a debonair, charming man by his side. There was a greenhouse, and Tom let himself be led into it. He didn't protest when Won Bin kissed him. In fact, he put his arms around the man's neck, and lay back on the table, not caring if Ben Affleck's potted plants crash onto the floor. He couldn't meet Chris' furious eyes two hours later. Chris, who was one of the footmen in the party, couldn't have missed Won Bin leading Tom out of the house, and if he suspected, Tom's love bite on his neck confirmed his suspicions. Tom defiantly pulled his shirt off and turned his back to Chris. Chris' wounded gasp alerted him to his mistake - Won Bin's fingers, gentle as they were, left unmistakable bruises along the indent of Tom's spine. "Why?" Chris just choked one word, but it was enough. "Because it feels right," Tom confessed. "Come on, Chris, don't tell me you expect me to seduce our marks platonically?" Tom flinched as Chris lifted his fist, but Chris only slammed it into the wall. Rough hands, Tom thought irrelevantly, but what did he expect? Rough Chris who had no refinements, with his bad table manners and rough, selfish fucking - well, Tom thought as hysterical laughter threatened to erupt from him - what the fuck did he expect? He didn't know what to do, so he just sat down on the floor, and laughed. Chris cursed, and his hands grasped Tom's shoulders, but Tom only laughed harder until his tears fell. "What do I expect when I allowed myself to be the bitch of a man like you?" he told Chris. Chris flinched, but Tom didn't care anymore. He wanted to be cruel for once, or he would go mad from all these anger/frustrations in his soul. "He will take me on his private plane to his beach house in an island off Hawaii." "Listen to yourself," Chris shouted. "Are you crazy?" "You made it seem as if you are doing me a great favor by letting me sit at JFK at the weekends. You don't understand me, Chris. I want to fly, see things... you want me to sit here in this place, pretend to be a gentleman, and let you fuck me when you feel like it. What about me, Chris? Have you ever wondered how I feel every time I dress up like a gentleman, mingle with other civilized people, and then to go home to you?" Tom yelled back. "We're no longer in that shit hole, Chris. You can't make me fuck you anymore. I want out. Out, you hear me? Out!" "You think he's going to keep you?" Chris asked when he could find his voice. "Oh, you want to be like him? You're not like him, Tom. You and me, we're the shit of society. You embezzled money and you screwed your superior, remember? You tricked me into murdering Khaled by telling me that he tried to rape you in the showers, just because you were jealous of him then. So now you're a free man, you think you just can start over and be a gentleman?" "Shut up," Tom whispered, his fingers clawing at his temples as he realized, in pain, just how true Chris' words were. "Tom - " "Shut up!" Tom screamed. Chris did just that. They stared at each other in silence. For the first time, both acknowledged that outside the bedroom, they really had nothing to say to each other. FOUR "Your cuffs." The stiff-lipped man said curtly as he handed them over. Won Bin smiled mockingly at his valet, Leon. He raised his hand and Leon quietly fastened the cuffs. "Do I look good today, Leon?" he asked. "You always look good, sir." Sir. Leon always called him sir. Fuck that man, Won Bin thought irritably. "Yes, I know," he murmured. "Tom can't resist, can he?" He saw Leon's face tightened in the reflection in the mirror. He didn't show it, but he felt slight satisfaction at drawing blood. If Leon wanted Won Bin to keep paying the price for their past, Won Bin wouldn't let him have it easy. He knew that every man he took to his bed was a dagger slowly twisted into Leon's heart, but that was small retaliation for Won Bin's own treacherous heart that yearned and wanted Leon, damn common sense. Once, when Leon was the son of Won Bin's valet fresh out of school, Won Bin had taken one look at the man and fallen headlong into lust. Leon wasn't familiar with his father's employers, having spent most of his life in Hong Kong while Won Bin and his family traveled around the world. It was a simple matter to pretend to be a normal high school kid and have Leon in his bed before the week was out. What Won Bin didn't count on was his own heart succumbing to Leon's old-fashioned, good-natured protectiveness. Leon seemed to care about what Won Bin wanted to say, and he was always there beyond the call of bedroom duty, and Won Bin realized that by just being there, Leon had won him over when no one else could. Then his parents came home - along with Leon's father - and the shit hit the fan. Won Bin's father whipped Leon until the then twenty-two year old man couldn't sit for days. From thereon, Leon became Won Bin's exceedingly proper, responsible valet. He never even took any lovers, as far as Won Bin knew. He was just there, a devoted valet who refused to touch Won Bin the way he wanted to be touched. It was fucking annoying. Won Bin contemplated stripping here before Leon, but experience had shown that Leon's iron willpower was unbreakable. "Tom's a charming man," Won Bin remarked. That was true. If there was no Leon, Tom would be a good fuck and charming companion. He liked being adored, and Tom looked set to put Won Bin on a pedestal. Only Leon, damn him, seemed to be immune to his charm. "I don't know. I'll just trust your discretion in this matter." Now Leon was definitely mocking him. Won Bin tampered down the sharp retort forming at the edge of his tongue and scowled at their reflection in the mirror. Leon's eyes were dark and as always, impenetrable to Won Bin once their too-brief affair was over. How did Leon do this so well, his hiding his emotions from other people? He felt at that moment weary to the bone. He was tired, he realized, of this fighting, bickering, and shallow affairs. What was he doing? He looked at Leon's face, at the mocking and tight smile, and damn, it hurt. "Did you feel anything for me, Leon, even a little?" he had to ask. "If there's anything, it's dead by now," Leon answered. "Aren't you ever tired of this constant baiting and arguing?" Won Bin snapped. "What can I do, Leon, to make up for my mistakes? I tried being kind, I tried being cruel, but you keep making me feel like shit with your condescending arrogance. What the fuck can I do, Leon?" "You want the brown or the blue overcoat?" Leon asked. Won Bin shut his eyes and counted to ten. "I'm in love with my valet," Won Bin said as he smoothed Tom's hair. They lay on the boat that drifted down the river. The cool evening air chilled their lust-slaked bodies. "I'm sorry if that shocks you." "No," Tom said quickly. To be honest, he wasn't sure what he was feeling. He left a sullen Chris at home, neither having said a word to each other since last night's explosion. Chris slept on the couch that night. "But I'm tired of fighting him." Won Bin told Tom of his sorry history with Leon. "I tried everything, but nothing gets to him. Maybe it's not worth it, you know? Some things aren't meant to be and all that shit? Maybe we can work something out." "We?" Tom echoed in disbelief. "Yeah, we. You're a good guy. Let's just see how this works between us, okay? You have a great smile when we first met at the airport." Tom sat up with surprise. "You remember that day?" "Of course. That's why I came up to you that night. There's no way Ben Affleck would invite you to his party, unless you're those rich bohemian-types that dress in bargain bin clothes. You aren't, right? Guess not. Look, if you're some conman or whatever your game is, I still like you. Call me crazy, but I'm so tired of fighting that I will take you in if you and me work out well. Well? Wanna give us a try?" Not exactly a romantic proposition, but well, what the hell, right? Tom tried to ignore the burn in his heart - Won Bin's declaration had a hint of smug condescension to it, as if he knew that he was making a big concession in giving Tom a chance - and nodded. This was what he wanted, he insisted to himself. Or was this? Fuck. FIVE "What are you doing?" Matt Damon demanded as he grabbed the bottle from his friend. "Chris, you're drunk." "No," Chris told him. "I'm trying to be." "What's the matter?" Matt asked, taking a seat beside Chris. "You want me to smuggle you in some bigger party?" Ben Affleck and his lover Matt Damon actually thought it amusing to let Chris and Tom haze their acquaintances. No one could ever accuse Ben of being nice, and he would rather have it that way. Ben viewed his rich peers as dullards who deserved being conned out of their arrogant stupidity. Matt was actually from the streets, like Chris, and they dealt together a few times before Chris' ass got hauled to jail. "Tom decides that he likes Won Bin better than me," Chris said miserably. "Won Bin is a cute guy, if a bit dull." "He's exciting," Chris sneered. "He has seen the world. Tom believes that that asshole will take him around the world." "Boy, it's a good thing I never introduced Tom to Sebastian Spence," Matt muttered under his breath. "Is that all?" he asked aloud to Chris. "Take Tom around some place then. Both your paroles are long done, so you can move around the place, right?" "But I like living here," Chris pointed out. "Okay," Matt said. "I don't like your voice." "Okay." "Cut that out!" "Okay." "Damn you, Matt, I'll - " Matt lifted his free hand (the other was holding a mug of beer) in a placating gesture. "It's just something I observed, that's all. You are one selfish prick. Nothing wrong with selfishness, I'll say, but in this case, we're talking about boyfriends here, and boyfriends are tricky matters. They like to have their feelings counted too when it comes to making decisions. If Ben makes a decision for me - and he used to do that in the beginning - I'll get mad. I can only imagine how Tom must feel." "So now you're on his fucking side, Matt?" Chris growled. "No, I'm on the fence. I hate getting involved in other people's personal matters. But maybe if you will think a little and consider Tom's feelings in this, your life will be a lot easier. If you want someone who will keep quiet and let you make all the decisions in his life, you may as well buy a dog, you know. Jesus, I sound so out of character, I'm Oprah fucking Winfrey. It's your fault." Matt drowned his beer. "Personally, I like trekking the Canadian Rockies. The nighttime there is beautiful. Tom may love it." "Why waste money we could save on - " "Ben buys me expensive gifts all the time. He can afford it, naturally, but you don't see me turning him down, right? Tom's a lot like Ben and other wimpy blue-collar guys - they like getting and giving things. We have lived the life, Chris, and sure, what's a silly Rolex watch when we can pawn it for rent, right? But to them, the watch is something stupid like a gesture of love. You don't give Tom anything or say nice things to him, he'll believe that you don't care about him." "But I care," Chris insisted. "I protected him from the other scums in jail." "You made him your bitch." "I took care of him!" "Bet you didn't even blow his dick once." "Should I? I thought he liked blowing my dick." Chris looked genuinely befuddled. Matt slapped his own forehead. "Tell me I was never this stupid," he said aloud. To Chris, he patted the man's back hard with each next word he said. "Go home, cook him something easy that won't burn down the house, buy him something, and suck his cock. Let him have your ass too if you have to. You're no longer in jail, buddy, so loosen up on that trade king image and learn some TLC. Trust me, life will be so much easier that way." Chris stared thoughtfully at his beer, trying to sort out his confused thoughts. SIX "What did you do?" Simon Baker asked as Chris paused to stare at his beer. "You sucked his cock or what?" "Well..." Chris said slowly. Tom looked around the house in surprise. Chris - cooking? Whatever he was cooking, it smelled awful. "Chris?" he called as he pushed open the kitchen door. He sighed in appreciation despite himself. Chris wore only a pair of tight white shorts under his apron - a comical sight if Tom didn't find it so sexy - and his look of embarrassment at being caught was charming, even adorable. "Why are you cooking?" "Because I..." Chris stared at Tom, feeling stupid and dumb all at once. "You're the most important thing in my life, Tom. I'm sorry if I don't say enough pretty words or do important things to show it. I don't want to lose you, Tom. I'm willing to listen and change now, because fuck it, Tom, freedom's not worth it if you're not here with me. You want to go clean? We'll go clean together. We'll - " Tom, touched, silenced Chris with his fingertip. "I've been thinking myself. I don't want to fly if it means being unfair to you, and I don't think I've been fair to you, Chris. I wanted to come back here, sit you down, and try to tell you why I have been unhappy for so long. I'm also sorry about Won Bin. Will you ever forgive me?" "We'll do this right this time around. You're right, I've been a selfish ass. I'm the bastard who should be asking you to forgive me." "I don't want to see the world if you don't - " "No, Tom, you should. You deserve it. We'll go somewhere, anywhere. Even Hawaii, although I hated that place I - " "Shall we call for pizza? Whatever you're cooking, I think it's burnt to crisp by now." Tom chuckled. "Yeah, Chris, we'll try again. This time we'll do this right." Chris nodded. "I told him often that I would do anything for him," Chris told Simon. "But now I'm finally actually doing it. It makes me feel weak a little, because it feels like a weakness at first, you know?" Simon nodded sympathetically. "But now it's okay. Matt's right - I understand him better now that we are talking more than we used to. The sex's better too, because he actually knows how to use his coc-" Simon coughed loudly. "So now you believe me when I say that I injured Won Bin out of self-defense?" "You didn't injure him, did you?" Simon asked. "Tom did." Chris' eyes narrowed. "I did it." "Just between you and me," Simon said smoothly. "Client's privilege, Chris - what you said to me remains between us only. I am held by the law to keep mum even if you confess to murdering the last eight Popes." "You're full of shit," Chris said curtly. "Here's what happened. The fucking asshole Leon must be eavesdropping when Tom went to Won Bin to tell that man that they were over. From what Tom said, he was telling Won Bin 'I think I love...' and that was when Leon misunderstood the whole shit and lost it. He broke through the door like an insane bugger and pounced on Tom. That idiot knocked Won Bin down in the process, so there was no witness to the fact that Leon knocked some shit down and ended up almost burning the house down." Simon gaped at Chris. "You're kidding." "Nope. Hell, I wish Tom had hit that smug irritating Won Bin prick, but it was an accident caused by that Leon fellow. He really was crazy about his employer in the end. I'm glad you got me off by lack of evidence and all, because I don't think Won Bin wants to testify against his boyfriend." "Won Bin and Leon are together once more?" "Nope, or at least Tom told me, Leon was so humiliated by what happened that he just resigned and left. Won Bin was now intent on revenge by pursuing that idiot back to Hong Kong. Something about seducing Leon and getting him to grovel for all the shit he heaped on Won Bin." "Oh. Interesting." Simon hesitated. "So you don't know anything more about those two?" "Give it time, Simon. I'm sure their story will be told soon. Tom and Won Bin remained friends and they are still in contact, so you'll hear the juicy details soon, I'm sure. I'm a bit worried about Tom and Won Bin being friends, since they were exes and all, but it's okay right? We'll be okay, right?" Simon could have told Chris that no one could be certain about a happily ever after. Or he could have told pretty nonsense to assuage the man's insecurities. Somewhere in Chris, perhaps, would always be a man who held on too tight because he was afraid of losing the ones he cared about. Finally, he just said, "I think so." And to his own mild bemusement, he realized that he meant it absolutely.