Date: Sat, 31 Mar 2001 22:33:54 +0800
From: Lady Poetess <egiggles@moose-mail.com>
Subject: The Gentlemen's Club: Nick

THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Nick

By and copyright Lady Poetess

http://www.gentlemensclub.cjb.net

Disclaimer
This story is fictitious and bears no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.


PROLOGUE

Danny Nucci maintained that he never would had learned to tolerate, okay,
like Nicholas Kyle Westerly George Zane Wechsler the IV somewhat a little
if they hadn't dropped a giant metallic something through his apartment
roof.

   It was lucky he wasn't in bed at the moment, although it would be a cold
day in hell before Danny would admit that jerking off on his couch to a
porno video playing on TV. He had a no-nonsense, stern, and smooth image to
maintain, and fucking hell would he tell anyone he was flying solo at home.

   Still, it ruined what little of a pathetic come he was working himself
up, and the sight of a large, metal round ball in the center of the
shattered debris that were his bed and roof left him speechless. He looked
up at where his roof was, and saw a helicopter hovering at the night
sky. There was a man yelling something at him too from the open helicopter
door.

   "What?" Danny yelled.

   "Would you zip up your pants? It's pretty embarrassing!" the man yelled.

   Danny realized that his right hand was still holding his flaccid
dick. Perfect, his humiliation was complete, he barely escaped death, and
he had nowhere to sleep. Perfect.


ONE

Nick was the sort of guy everyone tried to avoid in the office. He was a
fellow who got things done, yes, but he was also quiet, withdrawn, and
looked at people in a guarded and surly manner that people just tended not
to include him in after- office social functions. He ate his lunch alone in
his office, talked to people only when people found it absolutely
necessary, and nobody knew or cared to know what he did after office.

   Danny didn't care either. He had been Nick's personal assistant for two
months now, organizing the man's life with the skilful efficiency drilled
into him by his hotel manager mother and secretary father (yes, you read
that right -- the father was a secretary and the mother a hotel
manager). He was a good personal assistant. So good, it seemed, that Nick
actually asked him to stay over at his house until the fucking bastards
that crashed his roof and almost killed him finished fixing his
roof. (Danny was also paid a nice close to six-figure sum to settle the
case out of court -- the folks responsible didn't want the bad publicity
for their carelessness.) Danny agreed. He needed somewhere to sleep anyway.

   Nick was the sort of man who was short -- five feet six or seven was a
reasonable estimation -- and the lack of height was made worse by the
man's geek glasses and hair from hell. Some geeks were handsome, tall
creatures attractive in their silent intelligence. Nick was… well, short
and awkward.

   But his house was gorgeous. Danny was surprised to discover that books
dominated the large house. Books lined the shelves of a study as well as
the reading room converted into Danny's temporary bedroom. There was also a
personal gym and a large kitchen that Nick actually used. All was spick and
span -- Danny's parents would approve.

   It was just like Danny expected of Nick's place -- apart from the
books. Nick didn't strike Danny as someone who read often. But everything
else about the barren neatness and personality-free porcelain perfection of
Nick's life fitted the man's friendless life. And thrust into this sterile
environment, Danny couldn't help feeling a measure of pity for the lonely
man Nick must have been. At least Danny's control freak parents had each
other. Nick had his perfect, lifeless house.

   Maybe he ought to do something to repay Nick for his letting Danny sleep
in the largest bedroom he had ever slept in.

   Danny studied the white curtains of the glass pane overlooking New
York's skyline thoughtfully. Yes, that was what he'd do. He'd give this
apartment some personality.


"Hey, boss, what do you think?" Danny asked two days later, stepping back
to admire the effects of the pastel red curtains.

   Nick had given him full rein in redecorating the house, much to Danny's
surprise. Then again, maybe he shouldn't be. Nick exhibited as much care
for this house and on his own self as one would care for a dead fish left
on the road.  The man didn't seem to come to life at all except at work, in
the office, where he was asked animatedly -- in frustration, impatience,
or with a smile on his face for reasons unknown -- for his schedule or
upcoming meetings from Danny. In his house, Nick was just as lifeless as
the perfect, polished ornaments that lined the wall.

   "Nice," Nick said simply, watching Danny more than the curtains. "Maybe
you ought to get some new furniture next." He could be mocking, if his
voice wasn't such a monotone. "I'm off to read."

   "Wait." Danny bit his lip. The word came out purely by instinct, and now
he had no idea what to say next to his extremely reticent boss.

   Nick was waiting for his answer, and it might be Danny's imagination
that the man actually looked… hopeful? Probably just his imagination. "I
don't get you," he said finally. "Don't you do anything around here other
than to work yourself out to a stupor in the gym and then sleep? Come on,
do something else for a change."

   He wouldn't be so impertinent, were he not feeling that it was just
wrong for even someone like Nick to just live like this, in a void. He had
seen the man sat in his study, his eyes gazing at something far only he
could see, or the man running on the treadmill and demolishing the punching
bag until he finally collapsed from exhaustion. Nick had this inexplicable
drive to do -- something, Danny guessed, and more than once Danny also
imagined Nick drowning in his own dark existence. And Danny pitied this
man, although he sensed Nick wouldn't appreciate that.

   "What do you suggest?" Nick just asked, his face inscrutable as if
etched in stone. He wanted to say more, but he just closed his mouth and
walked away. A short, rather stout man only slightly hunched in his
posture, appearing to Danny like a man who knew he was defeated without
knowing the reasons why.


TWO

"Hello boss," Danny said.

   Nick looked up from his reading the menu. Danny, his mind registered,
and as always when it came to Danny, his mind shut down soon after. "What
do you want?" came out before he could take it back. No, don't go, I don't
mean it, he wanted to say desperately -- please, Danny, stay. His fingers
tightened dangerously around the menu, and he didn't realize he was holding
his breath until Danny grinned and took a seat. Then he breathed.

   "I hope you don't mind me doing this, but what are you doing this Friday
night?"  Danny asked. "Anything good to eat here?"

   Nick looked at Danny in disbelief. He was staring, he knew, like an
idiot, but he couldn't do anything else. As always, Danny had this effect
of sizzling his senses.  The man's elfin face and beautiful long, feminine
eyelashes that set off brown, ethereal eyes that compelled Nick to lose
himself in their depths -- the sight of Danny never failed to send a
painful stab of longing in Nick's stonewalled heart.

   He wanted to flee this moment. Inviting Danny to stay, urged by a wild
hope that they might become friends and hopefully more, was a bad
mistake. Danny would know how just how pathetic a man he was, and he had
lost even the grounds to pretend he was a brilliantly sunny and cheerful,
gregarious man like Danny. Danny doing this, inviting Nick no doubt to a
friendly social, would only make Nick dream more impossible dreams and want
more than wise.

   Maybe it was too late. This one gesture of friendly overture was already
catapulting Nick into feeling freer and happier than he had ever
remembered.

   "I don't have anything to do this Friday," he said calmly. Hiding his
feelings was an art he perfected. Even the embarrassment of admitting his
lack of social life to Danny.

   "Then it's perfect. You can't say no. I'm going to a friend's birthday
party. I want you to come along with me." Danny smiled. "Come on, we may
even find you a nice gay guy to be friends with."

   He had thought Danny the most beautiful man he had ever seen since he
walked into his life.

   "Okay," he said.




THREE

The days passed like a dream for Nick. He had a beyond wonderful time on
Friday night. Nick told Danny so as he opened the car door for Danny to get
out.  Seth Green, whose birthday it was, was actually shorter than Nick
(yes, he was shallow) and he was a nice guy. In that brief three hours,
Nick felt as if he belonged to a community of people. He wasn't the boy who
hid behind the tree, trying hard to belong but just not knowing how. So
many nice people who talked to him and even touched him in the back and
included him in their conversations even when he was an obvious stranger
-- Nick was still reeling from the euphoria.

   It was all because of Danny. Funny Danny who brought out the best in
him, a rare laugh that startled even himself. A man called Jeremy even
invited him to join the man and some friends in an upcoming pool tournament
Jeremy was determined to win. Nick couldn't play pool, and he said he
wasn't sure he could come. Jeremy said he would call. Nick hoped the man
would, he hoped they weren't just friends in his mind. These people
accepted Nick because of Danny.

   He took off his spectacles and watched Danny who was humming as he
switched on the light of the living room. His house -- Nick chuckled. He
could barely recognize his house. Not just because of the color he allowed
Danny to add, but because Danny made the whole house brighter and more
livable.  Sometimes when Nick had given all his strength working out his
loneliness and muted frustrations in physical workouts, he would close his
eyes and imagined that Danny would never leave.

   He grew to love the things Danny did as well. Danny, he learned, was as
beautiful inside as outside. This newfound sappy poetry in him he embraced
fully.  For the first time in his life, companionship wasn't just sex. He
wished there was sex, but this was something else. The way he allowed Danny
into persuading him into doing things, it surprised as well as delighted
him. Danny loved jazz and spent his free nights playing the saxophone with
his band, creating what he called 'the electronic jazz sound'. Nick didn't
know anything about jazz, but he watched Danny played, and felt the world
ceased into an insignificant blur as his senses focused on Danny, only
Danny. Always.



"Holy fuck," Danny said that Thursday night when they walked out of the
club.  "Your car," he said unnecessarily.

   Nick could see that. Someone had taken black paint and thoughtfully left
FAGGOT, loud and prominently at the driver's side of his car. A few seconds
of examination revealed that the other side was just as thoughtfully
decorated.

   "Holy fuck indeed," Nick said as he peeled a note stuck under the
windscreen.  His fingers instinctively crumpled it after he'd read
it. "It's for you."

   "Now this is rich. First I almost were accidentally killed, and now
someone wants me out of town. Since when did I become this popular?" Danny
blew his bewilderment. "Shall I call the cops?"

   "Why not?" Nick said. Someone tried to mess with Danny. The surge of
fury that washed through him was nothing he'd expected before. If that
asshole who wrote that note and no doubt spray painted the car was before
him, he'd tore the bastard apart with his bare hands. No one touched those
he had come to value above his own life. And when Danny was once an
infatuation, after Nick had known the man better, Danny had become a good
friend. Maybe more.

   Nick released the breath he had been holding. Calm down, he told himself
-- calm down. Slowly releasing his clenched fists, he watched as Danny
called the cops on Nick's cell phone. Danny cast him a small grin, and Nick
grinned back.  He looked at the car as he got into it. What the fuck, he
always wanted to give it a new coat of paint anyway.

   Danny suggested red. Nick liked the idea.

   That night Danny found another note, this time in an envelope, shoved
into Nick's post box along with the other mail. Nick spent an extra hour
boxing that night.

   Danny was walking back from the kitchen for some late night snack when
he saw the gym lights still switched on.

   "For fuck's sake, Nick, it's late…" The words trailed when Danny
realized that Nick was wearing only a pair of tights that ended probably an
inch above the midpoint of the man's thighs.

   Wow, Danny thought. He had known underneath the man's admittedly
fabulous clothes was a hard body -- one would have a hard body if one
worked out as constantly as Nick did -- but he never expected this
stunningly well-formed physique. Nick's body wasn't the well-chiseled,
polished Hollywood perfection honed by physical trainers -- his was the
coarser physique honed by constant raw physical exertion, a more exciting
tapestry of sweat-soaked hard, fluidly-moving biceps and triceps, perfectly
delineated abdominal muscles, and skin flushed in his exertions. And when
Nick looked up at Danny, Danny noticed that Nick's eyes were a startlingly
brilliant shade of emerald.

   His body seemed to be imbued with an aura of romantic broodiness, like a
beaten warrior refusing to go down.

   "What is it?" Nick asked, his voice still harsh from his exertions.

   "It's late," Danny said simply.

   "So?" Nick smashed his fist onto the bag hard. "What good does it do?"

   "One of these days you are going to have to work on your communication
skills," Danny said, swallowing hard as Nick's muscles bunched taut with
every action of the man. The way those hard muscled thighs tensed was
giving Danny a hard-on, tempting him hard with the tantalizing notion of
having those powerful thighs straddling him, or he himself clasping Danny's
sweaty, rock-hard muscular torso with his thighs, running his hands down
those perfect pectorals…

   "I want you," Nick said. "How's that for communication, Danny? I want
you. You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen." Wham! "I will give
anything in my power if you will give me a chance to be the man in your
life." Nick smashed his fist hard into the punching bag, ignoring the pain
that shot up his arm. "You make my life worth living in those few moments
you are in it. You make my world tolerable. Arrrgggh!" His knuckles started
to bleed with each hard pummel. "Just give me a chance, Danny."

   Only then did he gave a choke -- or was it a sob? -- and let the
punching bag smash into him before he grabbed it with both his hands.

   "Wow. That's surprisingly many words for you," Danny said. He had to sit
down. He leaned against the door instead.

   "I never had any friends when I was a boy. I was always the one hiding
behind the tree, because my father was an important man and there was
always people looking to get at him through me. I was short." Nick slowly
unwound the strip of white fabrics from his bleeding hand. "I was
tongue-tied. People can never remember I existed at all. I have had men in
all my life, but none lasted for long. Do you know how hard it is to live
like this? To have the people you work with or face with every day in your
life not even caring about you?"

   "Nick, I -- "

   "I tried to talk to you once, to ask you to go on a date with me. You
don't remember, do you? Why should you? You just nodded and dashed off
without listening to me," Nick said in a hard voice. "Only when you need me
do you listen to me. And stupid me, I still live for the moment you smile
at me. But the last few days you confused me, Danny. What are you doing?
You are being nice to me, and I start hoping stupid dreams, Danny. Tell me
what the fuck are you doing?"

   Danny flinched from the man's outburst. "I'm sorry if I was
thoughtless. You're right, I never thought to see you as even a human
being, until…" He gestured vaguely. "I'm sorry. I just don't think you
should be living like this, in this life of perfect angles and straight
lines with so much white space. My parents are like you, I'm like you, and
in a way I understand how you are feeling, and I… well, pity you."

   "I don't want your pity. I want…" Nick hesitated, not realizing how
cheesy or corny his inadvertent hesitation was.

   Danny straightened himself and in a fluid motion pulled his shirt over
his head.  He dropped it in front of him to the stunned Nick. He swallowed
his nervousness and smiled valiantly at Nick. "Well?" he asked.

   Nick released the breath he was holding. His feet took on a life of
their own, propelling him to the other man, as did his fingers when they
tangled themselves in the light fur on Danny's chest. He couldn't speak, he
could only parted his lips and prayed Danny to be his. And Danny's lips
grazed his tentatively, as if the man was scared. Funny -- Nick was the
shorter man here, who had to pull Danny's head down slightly, and Danny was
feeling fucking nervous?

   He wanted to say something, to tell Danny something, a flattery,
perhaps, but Danny's arms closed around his neck, and Nick didn't care
about talking.

   "Hey, take it easy!" Danny said when Nick pushed him against the wall.

   "Sorry," Nick murmured sheepishly, his hands roughly pulling down
Danny's shorts. In a moment he had his shorts shoved down his thighs, and
then Danny's fingers closed around his cock. He almost came at that
contact, indeed, a spurt of semen greeted Danny's fingers. Then Danny was
guiding him into that tight, heated sheath of his anus. Nick gasped as
indescribably pleasure burned his senses at the sheathing of his cock, and
his hips reflexively bucked up hard, feeding roughly his cock's length
deeper up Danny as the latter gave a choked cry.

   His muscles, strained from his boxing/demolishment session, protested as
he pushed Danny up the wall, bending his thighs slightly so that the other
man could sit on him. As Danny's legs lifted to clasp Nick's waist, Nick
splayed his hands against the wall. His greatest regret was he not being
able to kiss Danny's lips in this position, so he did the next best
thing. As he pumped the man, his lips closed over Danny's right nipple and
he feasted on that succulent bud of flesh.  Danny's fingers closed around
Nick's buttocks, urging the man to fuck him harder with his clawing fingers
as well as choked gasps.

     The orgasm caught him unawares -- he moaned, his hips buckling
slightly even as he banged Danny in harder, shorter, bruising stabs of his
penis. He felt Danny convulsing in his own climax even as Nick gave it to
him. Nick only lost his balance after the last of his ejaculation left him
utterly drained in every sense of the word, and he fell. And Danny, thank
God, fell with him.



FOUR

"Fucking son of a bitch! He is supposed to be mine!" the wild-eyed man
screamed at Danny.

   "I guess we are talking about Nick? Who the hell are you?" Danny asked,
edging towards the men's room door. Trust his luck to be ambushed this way.
The entire week, Nick had been the overprotective bodyguard, watching over
Danny with a tenacity that infuriated as well as charmed him. But on this
dinner date, Danny had to confront the lunatic whom he supposed left those
notes and spray painted Nick's car. Danny quickly take stock of his
situation: there was nothing he could use as a weapon, except for the wet
roll of toilet paper which would be fucking useless.

   "Look, whatever you want, take it easy okay," he told the man.

   "What the fuck you think this is? A TV cop show?" the other man shouted
and lunged.

   "Shit!" Danny cursed, ducked as the man jumped over him, and tried to
dash for the door.

   "Danny?" Nick opened the door at the same time, the door catching Danny
right in the face. "Fuck! Donald, what are you doing?"

   "You motherfucking bastard! I loved you, and you betrayed me!" Donald
said.

   "This is turning into a bad TV show," Danny whispered to himself. "Nick,
get the fuck out of here."

   There was a flash of light reflected on blade. Danny saw the blade in
Donald's wild eyes descending on him in slow motion. Move, move, move! his
panicked mind screamed. Nick gave a low growl at the same time as he threw
himself across Danny, simultaneously shielding him even as he pushed Donald
to the ground.

   "You will not -- " Nick shouted, his fist smashing into Donald's jaw
-- "You bastard!" Another smash of his fist, and another. This bastard
wanted to hurt Danny -- Nick would make sure this fucking asshole pay. No
one hurt the man he loved, no fucking body.

   "Stop it, Nick," Danny said.

   His voice cut through Nick's fury like a calm in the storm. He lifted
Donald off the floor and flung the man across the room that the man smashed
into the far wall with a sickening thud. "I'm sorry, Danny," he said
then. "I'm sorry -- " He looked at where his hand was at his
stomach. Blood, he thought stupidly. Donald had stabbed him and he never
even noticed.

   His last sight was Danny's anguished face, calling his name, before all
went black.


He opened his eyes to excruciating agony. He sputtered, and that hurt even
more.

   "Don't," he heard Danny say. "Take it easy. You'll be fine. Donald
missed the vital organs, and they'll sew you up okay."

   Nick nodded and closed his eyes. He felt Danny's hand clasping his, the
man's warmth flowing into his hand, providing strength and comfort.

   "I love you, Nick. I'm sorry I didn't realize it before," Danny said.

   Or was it his imagination? Nick tried to clear his mind, but whatever
they injected into his blood, it was making it hard for him to
think. Danny, he thought in frustration, Danny -- his life, his heart,
his soul. Without Danny, his old life was unbearable. And now that Danny
might have said he loved Nick, Nick didn't want to die. He wanted a chance
with Danny. He didn't want to die -- please God, was his last thought.



"Hi," was Danny's first word to him. "If you do that again I will kill you
myself," he said.

   Nick tried to smile. "Hi," he finally said weakly. "How long have I been
out?"

   "One day. You're a tough bull." Danny smiled back, a luminous
smile. "You'll live."

   "For you." Nick tried to sit up, but Danny pushed him back gently into a
sleeping position. "Look, I'm sorry about Donald. I just slept with him
once. He got a bit too clingy, and I cut him off. It was before I met you,
and I'm sorry he went nuts like that."

   "Whatever really. I don't care about your past, and I don't blame you
for Donald. You get well, Nick, because my parents are dropping by soon and
they want to meet you."

   "I guess that means you won't be going back to your old apartment any
day soon?" Nick asked.

   "No," Danny said simply. "You're awake. I have been here all night, and
I need to go to take a leak. See you later?"

   Nick reached out and caught Danny's hand, rubbing the man's knuckles
with his still weakened fingers. "Okay," he said finally.