Date: Wed, 29 Mar 2000 23:20:30 +0800
From: Lady Poetess <egiggles@moose-mail.com>
Subject: The Gentlemen's Club: Wes

THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Wes

By and copyright Lady Poetess

Disclaimer

This story is entirely fictitious and has no resemblance to anyone alive or
dead.  Period.


ONE

In the heart of the charity scene of New York and beyond was a man named
Tobey Maguire. If that name sounded familiar, that was because Tobey --
actually, Tobias Vincent Maguire, was the eldest (estranged) son of Senator
Vincent Maguire, a man well-known for his unpopular views on gay rights,
guns, and Catholicism. And since Tobey was gay -- he wasn't even a
bisexual, much to his father's utmost disappointment, it was agreed by both
parties that Tobey would move out and carve out his own niche.

   Wes Bentley clutched his battered bag that housed all his possessions
and stood looking up at the sign that welcomed the stray and homeless to St
Francis' Home. Tobey Maguire was one of the patrons of this shelter, one of
his many pet causes, and it was imperative that Wes find Tobey.

   All the easier for Wes to destroy him, of course.

   Wes didn't believe in destiny, he didn't believe in God, but at that
moment when Tobey Maguire descended from the stairs, Wes was tempted to
laugh. "Mr Maguire," he said.

   "Hello." To his credit, Tobey stopped and looked at Wes. He just looked
at Wes and the bag in Wes' hand and snapped his fingers towards the
door. "Feel free to make yourself at home. Tell Charles I send you."

   With that, the man walked past Wes and climbed into his fancy Jaguar.

   Wes never had a car, much less a Jaguar. He had seen Tobey's Rolex watch
on the man's right wrist -- so, Tobey was left-handed -- and the expensive
shirt that looked as if it came from a fancy catalogue. He felt his fingers
involuntarily tightened around the handle of his suitcase.



"Bentley. Wesley Cook Bentley," Tobey said, tapping the papers of the new
arrival on his table.  "Where have I heard that name before?"

   Jeff Timmons, suave, childish, and favorite son of his family,
snorted. It was his sole unbecoming habit in a man too boyishly handsome
for his own good. "David Bentley, the man your father evicted from that new
building last year? He raised quite a fuss, lost the lawsuit, and promptly
got shot when the drunk bugger tried to break into the building soon
after?"

   "Ah yes. And now the only surviving Bentley has taken refuge here. Small
world." And maybe a chance to right his father's wrong.

   "Oh no," Jeff said.

   "What?"

   "You got that look on your face. That one that says you're thinking of
making some sort amends for this man." Jeff shook his head. "You're already
earning million of brownie points in heaven to make up for being gay." He
gestured at the office. "You're involved in every bloody charity and
organization. You can't save the world, Tobey."

   "But I can save this man." Tobey smiled. "Besides, I like doing charity
work.  And tell me you never feel guilty living in so much wealth while
others have to starve on the streets."

   "I pay my taxes, don't I?" Jeff replied. "And I'm not going to change
your mind, am I not?"

   "No, not likely. Besides, I have a selfish reason for this." Tobey stood
up and walked to the window overlooking the children's playground. He
actually loved watching the children play, as much as it irritated him to
admit it (for doing so would mean that his friends' teasing of his saintly
nature might not be far from the truth). "Have you seen that man?"

   "Scary. He looks like he eats grandmothers for breakfast. I bet if I
persuade Nick to dig up the files, we can find lots of criminal
misdemeanors we can pin on him."

   "That's unfair," Tobey said automatically. Although he had to admit that
the man's air of tightly controlled wildness was what made him stop at his
tracks. He could barely get out of Wes' presence fast enough before he
degenerate into a babbling idiot. The man was darkness
personified. Actually Wes had nothing remotely resembling conventional
beauty on the surface. His face was almost nondescript apart from a set of
dimples that made him look like the devil incarnate -- tempting, seductive,
and pure mischief.

   But it was the stark air of barely restrained violence in Wes that drew
Tobey like a moth to a flame. That and the quiet strength and power
radiating from Wes' slim frame.

   Tobey had never felt this drawn to a man before. Maybe this was why
people cruise the streets for danger and thrill.

   "Don't, Tobey," Jeff warned.

   "What?" Tobey said, amusement creeping into his voice.

   "I know what you're thinking. You're not going to play with fire."

   "I won't." He was lying, of course, but that was the good about people
assuming he incapable of lying. He could get away with it so easily.



TWO

It was one thing to want to seduce a man, but Tobey had no idea how to
start on it. He had never seduced anyone before, not intentionally
anyway. He knew he was attractive enough to people, and he had no problem
getting laid (although it had been a while since he had any), but when it
came to Wes, he was stuck.

   It was only two days later when he looked up and saw Wes at the doorway
of his office. "Hi," he said, and then wanted to hit his head against his
desk hard. Of all the inane things one could say.

   "You want to see me?" Wes said gruffly. He was in simple white T-shirt
of red and blue that only made him look sinister in his darkness. Dark
hair, dark eyes, and probably a dark soul -- the latter sent a shiver of
excitement up Tobey's spine. Just of thought of all the barely suppressed
violence under him, legs spread open for his cock, made him hard enough to
burst through his pants.

   Tobey realized Wes was looking at him blankly.

   "What?" he said.

   "You want to see me?"

   "Yes." Tobey swallowed. Hell, he seemed to have lost all his usual
diplomacy.  "I know about your father."

   Wes' slight tightening of his jaw was the only sign of emotion. "Yeah,
so?"
   "I'm not siding with my father on this, He's an asshole, and a
not-too-bright one." Tobey smiled tightly. "I'm sorry. If there's a way I
can make your life better…"

   "They call you Bullfrog," Wes interjected.

   "Yeah." The kids called him that on the account of his slightly bulgy
eyes and his wide, flat grin.

   "And you do look like one."

   "Should I be insulted?" Tobey said, then sucked his breath when Wes
closed the office door behind him.

   He couldn't breath, not when Wes touched his cheek with his right
hand. The contact burned, sending warm searing fire all over Tobey's senses
down to his groin.

   Then it was gone. Wes stood back, smiling knowingly, and Tobey wanted to
hit back at him for making them both realize how vulnerable he was to Wes.

   "There's nothing you can do for me." Wes' grin was pure evil, and
Tobey's cock, damn that treacherous organ, only stiffened more at that
sight. "But I'm sure there are something I can do for you."

   Wes stood up and calmly lifted his shirt off his head, revealing a slim
but tightly muscled body. Nothing special, really, but Tobey was
mesmerized. By Wes' eyes and demonic face and pure, pure sexual magnetism
he radiated. Wes calmly unclasped his jeans and undid one
button. Two. Until Tobey could see the pale skin of Wes' groin and the
start of thick dark bush of pubic hair.

   "You only have to come to my door," Wes said, fastening his jeans.

   Tobey blinked, his lips slightly parted in hunger. "No, I won't," he
said defiantly.  "Not like this. I won't play your games."

   "Your loss then." Wes shrugged, pulling his shirt down his body. "I
guess we have nothing more to say to each other."


"Oh yes there is," Tobey said half an hour later, pushing open the dorm
door.  Wes was alone, the others having left for the dining hall
earlier. "Come with me, we're going dinner."

   "In the hall? Lowering yourself a little, aren't you?" Wes sneered.

   He wasn't prepared for Tobey roughly pulling him off the bed to his
feet. Christ, the man was stronger than he looked. The deceptively rangy
arms steadied him when he stumbled. "No," Tobey said, "we're going dinner
at a friend's place.  Where're your best clothes?"


He just wanted to seduce the man; he knew he could do it, for Tobey had
been watching him for days when he thought Wes wasn't looking. And nothing
would be better than to have Tobey under his sexual control. He was sure St
Tobey would come to him at night for some quick fumbling fucks in the
toilet or something.

   Yet he found himself sitting in a posh apartment, feeling awkward, out
of place, and outclassed at the dining table. Tobey's friend Greg was in
the kitchen with Tobey, and both of them shared a love for cooking which
they were demonstrating with loud sounds of cooking utensil clinking and
clanking and smells of something mouth watering. Greg's boyfriend Kevin was
watching him silently.

   "You're not a very talkative man, are you?" Wes told Kevin, who was
tall, dark, and handsome, with a small goatee on the chin.

   "Yeah." Kevin returned to his newspaper. Then he looked at Tobey
again. "I recognize a con when I see one. Hurt that man and I will break
your balls."

   "Scary," Wes sneered. He could just walk out now. He ought to. The man
cooking inside was the son of the man who might as well shot his idiot
father. He would, if he hadn't so much at stake here. He was running out of
time.

   "Here we go," Tobey announced, carrying a hot, steaming tray of chicken
meat, and Wes forgot what he was thinking.

   Trust Tobey to find his one weak point, he thought, two hours later,
still feeling full from the most delicious meal he had ever had. If the man
cooked like this, Wes would be most tempted to do anything Tobey asked. He
found himself standing at a pool table, watching several of Tobey's friends
play pool and talking in a camaraderie that defied his
comprehension. Surely the heated rush of anger when he saw Tobey lean over
and whisper something in a man called Stephen's ears wasn't jealousy. He
wasn't jealous. Not when the lethally handsome man called Antonio put his
arm around Tobey.

   No. He was definitely not feeling anything.

   He felt lost and disoriented, however. They shouldn't be treating him
like this.  He felt dirty, as if he was betraying his father, by standing
here and drinking their beer and… he bit back rising nausea. He had to
get out of here.  THREE

Shit. Wes woke up to morning light streaming in his eyes. What -- where --
hell, where the fuck was he?

   He was in a silent and white bedroom. The bed he was on was softest of
velvet. And he wasn't alone. He turned, and saw Tobey asleep beside
him. They were both clothed, and Wes saw no sign of fucking done between
them. Not sure whether to be disappointed or glad, he turned to look around
him.

   There was a small framed photo of Tobey and a young woman. This had to
be Tobey's place. Why the hell was he here?

   Oh yeah, last night. He had fled the pool club to the opposite bar where
he'd drunk himself stupid.

   Tobey stirred, and Wes shut his eyes.

   "Wes?" he heard the man whisper.

   A gentle hand touched his ear, so brief yet tender that it was like a
prayer's kiss. Then Wes felt Tobey get off the bed. He shit his eyes tight,
not moving, until he heard a curtain being pulled across a bar and water
raining from a showerhead.

   He remembered last night, surprising, considering how drunk he had
become.  Even now he was feeling some slight hangover despite his ability
to hold as much liquor as he wanted to. Or maybe the headache was from
recalling how he had collapsed in Tobey's arms and wept.

   "Nobody loves me," he had said. Stupid.

   "I can love you," Tobey had said simply.

   "I'm an evil bastard," Wes said.

   "I know."

   He had begged Tobey for a kiss to help him forget. Wes ran his hand
along his right cheek, remembering the soft kiss and the way Tobey held him
as he wept like a baby until sleep got the better of him. Tobey had said he
could love Wes.  Not exactly that he loved Wes, but for some reason, it was
enough to make him feel some strange lightness in his heart.

   He could lie on this bed and wait until Tobey come back. What would he
have to pay to lie here, in Tobey's arms? What would he give to sleep here
beside him?

   Wes groaned softly as his headache worsened. He never actually hated
Tobey, okay, maybe a little, but he had little love for his father
really. His father beat him bad, was a mean drunk, and Wes was away in jail
two states away when the man died in his final stupid drunk act.

   He could let go of the past. He could worry about the fix he was in, but
for now, he was intrigued by this new possibility of Tobey loving him. He
had seen people in love on TV, and heck, he wouldn't mind having Tobey love
him like the man loved those strays in his orphanages and homeless
shelters.

   He pulled his shirt off and rubbed his chest with it, walking into the
kitchen for a hot drink. Hell, the whole place was wide and spacious, an
illusion greatly enforced by sparse furnishing. Tobey might have been
estranged from his wealthy family, but obviously the trust fund his
grandfather left him was being put to good use.

   Wes heard Tobey humming in the shower. Nice. He wandered around the
house, coffee in hand, and carelessly rifled through some papers on the
living room table. He froze. In his hands were reports from a PI detailing
Wes' various and colorful criminal records.

   Obviously Tobey wasn't as guileless as his friendly mien indicated.

   He couldn't understand the desperation that seized him, however. He
didn't need Tobey, he told himself savagely even as he started pacing
faster and faster towards the shower. He didn't need the man, he insisted
even as he ripped at the fastenings of his jeans. No, Tobey was
insignificant --\ Wes never needed anyone and never will.

   He tested the door. Locked. No problem. Wes reached for the ornamental
knife at the wall, callously pulled it from its stand, and broke the latch
in one smooth thrust.

   "Tobey," he called, his voice roughened by rising need and
desperation. Don't throw me away, he wanted to call, much to his
disgust. "Tobey," he could only say.

   He saw Tobey turn from his drying of his hair. Wes just pushed him to
the wall so that Tobey's had his hands splayed against the cold mosaic. He
reached down and roughly grabbed Tobey's cock, feeling the thickly-veined
shaft in his slightly trembling fingers.

   He would make Tobey love him. At that moment, that was all that
mattered.

   He buried his face in Tobey's shoulder, sinking his teeth gently into
the man's supple skin, drawing a soft gasp from Tobey. His tongue slowly
traced the collarbone, even as his left hand slowly masturbated that man,
running his fingers up that increasingly hard cock to rub his thumb gently
at the fast- moistening slit before moving back down. His right hand
reached down to play at the heavy balls, feeling the testicles in their
sacs and pulling gently at the thick hair of Tobey's anus.

   Tobey was breathing raggedly now, his hips thrusting in rhythm with Wes'
jerking of his cock. Wes slowly slipped one leg between Tobey's thighs. The
man sensed Wes' cock pressing at him, and willingly spread his legs wider.

   Wes gave a shuddering cry as his cock pushed up Tobey's tight, barely
ready asshole. He felt Tobey's body spasm as his cock forced his way up the
man's heated anus. It was so tight, the thick muscular walls gripping his
sensitive shaft like a vise, that he almost went mad at the maddening
pleasure of it.

   One thrust, two, then he was gritting his teeth as his semen burst forth
from his cock, gushing up Tobey's body in abject worship. Tobey too gave a
cry of relief as his cock jumped in Wes' dextrous grip, spraying his own
chest and the wall with his rich hot ejaculate.

   Wes licked the man's juices, greedily tasting Tobey's skin and the salty
rich taste of the man's semen. He even licked the wall as Tobey banged him
from behind hard. As he shut his eyes as pleasure beyond pleasure wrecked
through him, he could only hope that it was enough for Tobey to keep him.


FOUR

"Coffee?" Wes placed a mug on the table.

   He watched Tobey in his robe reading a newspaper somewhat
tentatively. Hell, was Tobey thinking of dumping him now? He looked at the
report of his criminal past. For once, Wes wished he had the power to
change the past.

   Funny how the tables had turned.

   "Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked.

   "Huh? Sorry, I was thinking." Tobey smiled sheepishly. "I'm just
wondering if you'll respect me now that you've had your way with me."

   Wes wanted to laugh. If only Tobey knew how much power he held over Wes.
"I respect you," he said honestly, even when he knew he didn't have to. "I
respect you for being such a fucking saint and irritating me with your
fucking Mother Theresa act." That felt good. "In fact. I demand that you
make good your promise to make my life better."

   "How do I do that?"

   "Love me." It came out easier than Wes thought. "Please."

   Tobey grinned. "That's all?"

   Wes nodded. Damn, this room was dusty. His eyes felt wet.

   "I'll try." Tobey reached out and clasped Wes' hand in his.



FIVE

"I won't do it. Look, I'll pay back the fifteen thousand dollars." Wes
tried hard not to lose control.

   Vincent Maguire looked at him in disdain. "They told me you were the
best. No matter. Keep the money."

   "What do you mean?" Wes asked. Big mistake. His exposure of his
ignorance put him in Vincent's mercy.

   Wes saw the look in Vincent's eyes, and knew. "You've had photos. You
sent someone to spy on me and took the pictures without me knowing."

   "Never can depend on you people," Vincent said mildly. "Now get out. I
have things to do."

   "No."

   "No?" Vincent's voice hardened.

   "No." Wes stood up and calmly placed a gun on Vincent's head. "Give me
the pictures."

   "Are you out of your mind?" Vincent sputtered.

   "I have no future, I have a past I am not too proud of. If your son
knows that I am paid by you to seduce him and have pictures of us published
in a porn mag, I doubt he would want me anymore. I have nothing to live for
and everything to gain if I pull the trigger, Mr Maguire." Wes' lips arched
upwards. "Think about it. I have nothing to lose in shooting you now."



Tobey was waiting for him in the Home. "Where have you been?" he said,
looking up from his paperwork.

   "Lunch." Wes placed the food on the table. "Did I tell you how much I
love you today?"

   "You went and see my father, didn't you?"

   Wes didn't blink. "Yes I did. You knew?"

   "Yeah, I know. It was a good plan, though. Blame his opponent for
blackmailing him, a poor martyred father who only wants to protect his gay
son. Great PR notion." Tobey shrugged. "I always wanted to be on a porn
mag."

   "How did you know?" Wes asked.

   Tobey looked at his notes, hiding a smile. "How did you know?" Wes
asked, his voice rising. "I put a gun at your father's head for this," he
said, throwing the roll of sun-exposed negatives at Tobey. "You owe me an
explanation."

   "No I don't."

   Wes shut the office door. "I'll make you tell me," he growled, looking
like an enraged demon.

   His enraged demon, Tobey thought happily. "You can try."