Date: Sat, 17 Jul 2004 13:30:31 +0800
From: paul sung <psun@hotmail.com>
Subject: New Year 13

DISCLAIMER
==========

This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights
(copyright (c) 2004 - psun@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not
copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this
disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON,
- if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.

And any comments - brickbats or bouquets, send them over to
psun@hotmail.com And if you find that you like what you're reading, visit
my page at http://www.geocities.com/savante_2002

"My son still hates me."

After the show of dramatics James had given us earlier, we certainly
didn't need a genius to point that out. Frankly, I didn't really blame
him. After all, Sutton had never given his son any reason to love him
before. Forcing a confrontation between James and his father had been a
stupid, feckless and brash move for me to make, something that James
himself excelled at, and it certainly wasn't one of my well conceived
plans. Far from making any efforts to reconcile with his father, he had
stormed off on his motorcycle, heading for parts unknown. Recalling the
fury in his eyes, I felt a sharp twinge of remorse.

"Can you blame him, Mr Burbridge?" Raking a hand through my hair in
frustration, I shook my head helplessly. "You haven't exactly given him
reason not to."

Instead of putting up an argument as I'd expected, he nodded slowly. "I
was a brash, mindless idiot back then. Utterly self absorbed, selfish and
more concerned with money than my family. Sound familiar?" Almost
bashfully, Sutton peeked up at me through absurdly lush lashes, almost as
if he were seeking approval.

It did sound eerily familiar, although James never concerned himself with
money. Sure, the man liked money, no doubt about it, loved it and enjoyed
it, but it wasn't his driving force. He was too busy hating himself. But
the other adjectives sounded exactly right.

As soon as I'd returned to the gathering, Sutton had searched me out and
begged for a meeting in the study. Seeing Sutton Burbridge in the flesh
again was a shock to the senses, as it hit me just how perfectly
identical they were - just a matter of substituting James' chocolate
brown eyes for his father's light green-hazel ones. It was like looking
into a mirror of James twenty years into the future and damned if he
didn't look mighty fine. Seeing the almost palpable sexual pheromones
wavering around Sutton's handsome self, I couldn't entirely blame my
errant aunt for falling heads-over-ears in lust. Eventhough I knew my
heart remained tied to James - though he might prefer it otherwise at the
moment, I wouldn't say I was unaffected my his father's raw sex appeal.

Good looks and charm weren't going to matter much to his son however and
I told him so plainly. "When you wrote to me weeks back, I told you it
wouldn't be easy."

"Well, he definitely got the stubborn mule-headed gene from your side of
the family." Sutton smiled weakly. He remained silent for a moment,
keeping his gaze intent on the intricate wainscoting of my grandfather's
study before turning back to me again. "Tell me, John, how is he? Is he
well?"

Sutton Burbridge was known for his effortless charm and suavity but the
short, unadorned words affected me more than a few sweetly-worded and
doubtlessly false stanzas. It might take some time to prove his sincerity
but at least here was the start of something. "He's trying."

The smile that spread over his handsome face was all but irresistible.
"That's good to hear as I hoped we hadn't caused all that much damage. I
really hope he knows that I'm doing the same. Trying to turn over a new
leaf, I mean," he spoke hopefully. "I might not be able to change what I
did in the past but I can - and I will try to change our future."

His voice practically dripped with sincerity but I knew better than to
wholly place my trust in him. For James' sake however, I had to at least
try.

"James spits at the sound of your name." Clearly an understatement as
Sutton would have guessed. The very mention of their names placed him in
a black mood for the rest of the day.

He winced. "Ouch." Then he let out dry laugh. "Just desserts and all
that. Comes from being a shameless, opportunistic asshole - and a lousy
parent - all around."

"I won't argue with that."

Folding his brawny arms, Sutton carefully raised a dark eyebrow. "Now,
that was a slam."

"Mr Burbridge, I.."

"Mr Burbridge? So chillingly formal." Teasing me lightly, he pointed it
out to me with a chuckle. "John, don't you think it's about time you
called me Sutton?"

Here was the man I imagined cursed my name daily since I'd actually
offered him a small fortune to break off all ties with my family. It
wasn't easy trying to wean a shameless fortune hunter off my aunt but I'd
managed it somehow through a combination of guile, intimidation and
blackmail. Finally deciding that remaining behind certainly wasn't worth
his time, Sutton had taken the money and left.

Fearful of his eventual return, I'd kept close tabs on him. According to
my sources, after a few false starts, Sutton finally managed to start a
fledgling business of his own that had accumulated quite a tidy profit
last year. Along the way, he'd also acquired a new family of his own.
Although James certainly didn't know it, he had a baby brother somewhere
in the boroughs of London.

Leaning forward on the table, I said carefully. "Well, Sutton, you
haven't exactly endeared yourself to him. After all those years of
neglect and abuse, you can't expect him to come running to you with open
arms. I would have come after you with a baseball bat."

"Okay, that's telling me - and here I thought you were the cool,
levelheaded one." Sutton remarked with another one of his charming
smiles. He waved me off before I could explain again. "Between you and I,
bad parenting would be an understatement I'm sure. Helen and I, we made a
hell of a lot of mistakes, and unfortunately James was the one who paid
the price. I know all that. It took me some time to find myself. I won't
lie to you, I'm still a selfish bastard now but at least I'm trying to
clean up some of the mess I left behind."

It felt right to give him a warning however. "I don't know if he'll
ever.."

Sutton acknowledged this with a careful nod. "It's alright. I'll wait for
him."

Sutton Burbridge could certainly wait for his son but waiting for him
definitely wasn't in my agenda. The longer I waited, the worse it would
be. As soon as I reached home - courtesy of Grandpa's antique Jag, I
sprinted up the steps into the living room, yelling out his name.

There was no reply and my voice echoed through the empty hallways.
Although he was mad as hell now, I still held out some faint hope that
James would take the high road for the first time - and at least come
home to strangle me. The first place I tried was my own room to no avail
so I ran down the corridor, haphazardly searching through the other guest
rooms. The large house was eerily silent for once, no loud stereo blaring
out hip-hop, no martial arts marathon on the TV set. As I tossed the
house about searching, each door I slammed shut felt like another nail in
our relationship.

As I finally stood in his bedroom, I felt the last small shred of hope in
my heart fading. The bedroom looked the same as when he'd left - still a
damned fucking mess. No leather jacket. No keys to his bike carelessly
tossed on the dresser. No James.

Dancing around wildly in my chest earlier, my palpitating heart came to a
sudden stop as I realized that he really was gone. These stupid hands of
mine had helped push him out the door, helped drive away the man that I
loved. It was a horrible conclusion to come to and I felt a sickening
feeling twist around in my stomach. Like a nasty habit I couldn't get rid
of however, the other scheming part of me was already sketching out vague
plans to get him back into the house, no matter the consequences.

God, I loved him. The stupid son of a bitch. I love him.

And because of my devious machinations, I might have thrown away our one
chance at a relationship. June had always warned me about the
consequences of my unconscionable meddling. Damn, what a bitter lesson to
swallow. For once I knew what James felt like once in a while - I felt
like slamming my fist through the wall but I sternly buried that violent
impulse.

Instead of smashing up the place like James would have done, I released
my tension in a different manner. Like a lovelorn fool, I took a slow
walk around his bedroom, picking up his discarded clothes. A good little
housefrau. As a sop to my prudishness, the T-shirt he'd finally consented
to wear to sleep lay on his scarlet silk duvet and I tenderly brought it
to my face, breathing deep his familiar musky scent. Almost
instantaneously, a terrified little voice deep in my heart whispered
fearful misgivings that he would never return. Unwanted tears pricked at
my eyelids but I stubbornly forced them down, concentrating instead on
bringing some semblance of order to his room. Whoever had said that love
was a wonderful thing obviously had never felt how agonizingly painful it
could be sometimes.

As I took a good look around, I realized that there had been small
changes in his room these few months, additions to the room that I'd
made. Additions we'd made. The unusual dressmaker's dummy I'd found for
him - the one he'd tinkered with and made into a standing lamp. The black
wooden stairs we'd both wrestled up to his room from a flea market at
Mont Kiara. The lovely Balinese teak carving I'd gotten him from a
business trip and he'd turned into a coffee table. Little bits and pieces
of our lives, telling the story of our brief relationship.

It wasn't even a year. Just a little more than six fucking months.

"John."

At the sound of that voice, I spun around hopefully - only to find my
brother standing at the door. "Joe." I coughed, clearing my suddenly
hoarse throat. Seeing my younger brother alone, my heart fell even as I
started fearing the worst. It had been hours since he'd stormed off and
the longer he took to return, the higher the likelihood that he never
would. As I imagined him never returning, there was a sudden crazy
impulse to drop everything and run out in search of James.

As I reached into my pockets for my car keys, Jonathan reached over and
stopped me with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Cool it, bro. He's
okay."

"James?" As I said his name, I found his shirt in my hand and quickly
dropped it. The sudden motion hadn't escaped my brother's swift eyed
notice but thankfully he made no comment.

"Yeah, James." A quiet smile curled up his lips and he shrugged lightly.
"I can't tell you much more than that. Yes, he's incredibly pissed at
you, he wants to break something or someone, but he's... okay. Sort of."

"Sort of okay?" That could mean almost anything and the horrifying idea
that James wanted to break something when he already had a marked
predilection for violence didn't exactly reassure me. Recalling some of
his past misdemeanours left me with a feeling of misgiving. Such vague
pronouncements from my brother didn't satisfy me and I pressed him for
more. "You followed him?"

"Yeah, he looked mad as hell and I... well, you know what he's like when
he gets that way." Jonathan smiled ruefully. "Well, he wanted to go a few
rounds with me for following him. Trailed him to a bar, I don't know if
he was drinking..." As he finished, he looked away for a moment, an
expression of dismay in his dark eyes.

"Shit. Joe, you should have stayed away from him," I stated a warning. No
one knew better how dangerous James could be when he was in such a mood.
And if he'd started drinking...

Ever-confident, Joe replied optimistically. "Nah, he might threaten all
he likes but he would never knowingly hurt me. He's always looked at me
as a younger brother of sorts, a kid brother."

And he would certainly never hit someone he felt protective of. That he
left unspoken but I guess deep inside I already knew that. Although he
was written as the black sheep of the family and the older generation
frequently shook their heads over his reprehensible behaviour, James had
always been a firm favourite of the younger kids. Perhaps to compensate
for his own lonely childhood, he became almost like an elder brother for
most of them - the cool, rebellious big brother with the hot chicks and
the cool cars. It didn't surprise me that Jonathan would admire a wild
spirit like James, there was just the same spark in him. Unlike his own
boring, staid stick-in-the-mud siblings.

Hopefully James had managed to confide in Jonathan, perhaps even told him
his plans for tonight. "Where is he?" I asked anxiously.

"At Leela's place. I called her when he started getting a bit out of hand
and she came."

"Leela's?" The name brought to mind one of his old friends, a dark
sloe-eyed beauty who ran a new hip club in town. It would only take
fifteen minutes to reach her place.

As I headed for the door, Jonathan stopped me, holding on to my arm. "I
don't think you should go there, John. He's really pissed." For the first
time in our dealings, his surprisingly serious eyes held a censure though
he didn't say anything. "I don't blame you for what you did but perhaps
you should have told him about your plans first."

"Well, your brother's obviously a fool." I admitted softly, running a
hand over my suddenly weary eyes. It was the truth after all. If only I'd
refrained from meddling in his life... Managing a weak smile, I
continued, "I really hoped that James would be ready to speak to his
father, maybe just... but damn it, it's all my fault. Brainless, managing
fool."

All those years of keeping tabs on everyone else in the family at
Grandpa's behest. The Zhan Zhao of the family as someone had dubbed me.
No doubt I could withdraw from such a position anytime I wanted but I
found that I liked it. Obviously liked meddling in people's lives enough
to continue doing it. Self-delusional fool that I was to believe that
James would take my incessant meddling lying down.

Evidently, Jonathan was having none of my self pity. "Hey, stop it. No
one disses my brother." Pulling me close, he gave me a quick, warm hug,
wrapping his big arms around me. It came as a surprise that my kid
brother was already almost my size and he certainly had bigger arms. At
least he didn't seem to hate me. Yet. Tears threatened to spill from my
lids and I hastily swiped them away.

"Give James some time to cool off."

I laughed weakly. "Seems to be nothing else that I can do." Giving him a
pat on the arm, I tugged away.

Although he released me, Jonathan kept his concerned gaze on me, watching
me closely. "Hey, you want me to stay the night? You can get drunk and
bitch about your sexy boyfriend to me."

It was a weak joke but I turned to him, the beginnings of a smile on my
lips. "You're a good man, Jonathan Sung." It was nice to know that my
meddling ways - and my sexual inclinations - hadn't damaged this one
relationship in my life. Joe saw me - warts and all - and damn, the idiot
still loved me.

Faced with such blatant praise, his dark face flushed with colour.
"Shucks."

"It's true." I brought my hand up to his broad shoulder and gave it a
fond squeeze. "I never say it enough but I love you."

"I love you too." Ever impetuous, he pulled me close again. For a man in
my family, Joe had always been different. Easy, uncomplicated physical
affection was one of the more obvious ones. As he hugged me, he spoke,
laughter in his voice. "Damn, you're really getting soppy, bro. I think
we need to get some alcohol into you."

"Don't even think about it." Giving him a light punch on the shoulder, I
laughed. "I'll be okay. You can go home."

"You sure?"

It certainly wouldn't do for my brother to see me sobbing away over every
article of clothing James owned. Give me another hour or two and I would
probably cry over his boxers too. So I nodded confidently. "Positive."

"Do I get a raise for this?" he asked hopefully.

I looked at him in astonishment for a second before I caught the wicked
twinkle in his eyes and laughed. "Bastard."

"Still got a laugh out of you."

"And what do I have here? A hot little stud in my bed?"

Through the hazy mists of sleep, I carefully opened my eyes to see him
standing at the doorway, eyeing me coolly. I'd fallen alseep waiting in
his bed. It was almost like a dream. All dressed in plain solid black, he
looked like the wicked old James again, the big, bad wolf of the Sung
family. The broken heart that I'd feared had stopped earlier started
beating an erratic staccato again and my voice caught at my throat in a
whisper. "James.. you're back."

With my brain still in a funk, it was the most I could come up with and
totally inadequate to express my feelings when I actually felt like
leaping up for an impromptu celebratory dance - and then locking him up
so that he'd never leave again. That feeling faded when I recalled the
reasons he'd had for leaving. Short of a brief amnesiac episode, no way
would James Sung forget all that.

"Not too soft, not too hard," he intoned in a playful sing-song manner.
As he flicked off his shades and tossed them in a corner, he kept his
gaze on me. Amazing eyes he had, that vivid mocha-chocolate brown with
golden flecks, in a gorgeous, chiseled face that was made on one of God's
generous days. Instead of the glowing warmth that usually greeted me, his
brown eyes remained bitterly cold and unfeeling - lit up with a dangerous
gleam that I remembered from before.

Dismissing my shaky welcome, he strode gracefully into the room, like a
big, dangerous cat. Bringing myself up to a sitting position, I braced
carefully for an attack but he just made his way to the lamp, dimming the
light slightly before taking a slow half circle around the bed, keeping
his intent gaze on mine all the while. Instead of planting his large
fists in my face as I'd feared, he slowly shed his clothes as he walked
starting with his leather jacket. As he flung the jacket aside, he spoke
softly, his deep voice a silky murmur. "Not too short, not too tall...
just the right fuckable size for me." A wet tongue reached out to moisten
his thick, sensuous lips.

It wasn't what I'd expected. The man was certainly in a weird mood
tonight and as I drew in a deep breath, I knew that I could smell the
faint whiff of alcohol. Even as I felt my heart sinking, I watched him
even more closely. Dipping into alcohol made him all the more reckless -
and utterly unpredictable. As he tugged his belt painfully slowly out of
the loops, I spoke as cautiously as I could. "We left things pretty much
unresolved earlier, James. I think we need to talk."

"That's gonna have to wait. Talk, talk, talk, that's all you're good for?
I didn't come here for that," James enunciated slowly, tossing away his
belt as he moved on to the buttons on his shirt. Each unclasped button
bared a tempting glimpse of smooth, golden-tanned skin and hard muscle.
"Strip, Johnny boy."

Strip? "Wait, I know you're pissed off and I.."

There was a warning flash of his brown eyes before he launched himself at
me, cutting me off in the middle of my jumbled up explanation. Even as I
flexed instinctively to prevent a beating, he forcefully knocked my
protective arms aside and held me down on the bed. Taking my hair in his
bunched up fist, he yanked my mouth hard against his and ravished. The
overwhelming sensations crashed against me, the pleasure of feeling his
hard, solid length against mine again, his soft, generous lips crushed
against mine.

"Wait, James." I shoved weakly at his hand, tried to break his hold and
only succeeded in getting the corner of my shoulder seam ripped.

Pleased, his grin flashed, gleamingly white and wicked. His clever hand
was moving all the while, running down the buttons of my shirt, even as
he paused to answer me. "Less talk, more fucking."

"This isn't the way.." It was a little hard to continue a conversation
when my mouth was being assaulted by his soft, sexy lips again. There was
barely time to draw a decent breath before he'd moved on to my neck,
leaving little hot kisses down to my throat, sending my pulse tripping.
My free hand crept up to hold him off. "James, come on.. don't."

"Don't what?" Caught again, he stopped and crawled up to look me in the
eye. My stomach quivered with nerves at the palpable fury in his eyes.
The earlier frost had melted into flames so very quickly. "Between you
and Leena, I've had enough lectures for today, John. Now, do you want to
do this or should I find another outlet for my anger? Though much less
pleasurable, smashing you to a pulp sounds like a really nice alternative
just about now." For once, that threat didn't sound like a joke. The look
in his eyes were pure murder, and the impulsive heat in them didn't make
them any less dangerous.

"I don't appreciate being played the fool, nor do I appreciate being lied
to," James tore wildly at me. As I remained silent, his lips curled up in
a nasty sneer. "Why, baby, cat got your tongue?"

"James!" I let out a gasp as he suddenly reached up and ripped my cotton
shirt in two down the center, popping some of the buttons. In the movies,
I was frequently amazed that ripping shirts seemed so very easy - and
secretly envious. Obviously when you had biceps the size of James's, it
wasn't all that difficult to achieve. As I tried to struggle, he snarled
and yanked what was left of my shirt down to my wrists, trapping them
effectively.

The frustrated glare I gave him only had him laughing. James didn't make
another reply as he feasted on my naked chest, biting hard on my left
nipple and sending a surge of pleasure down my spine. In spite of myself,
I let out a soft groan. Awash in the amazing sensations he was producing
in me, my mind struggled with the one thought. This wasn't the way it was
supposed to be.

As he moved lower to my flat stomach, I made my move - gleaned from an
enforced six month martial arts class and the various Jackie Chan movies
he'd dragged me to. My struggles didn't deter him at all and he easily
fended off my attacks, slapping me off as he would an irritating fly. I
bucked and rolled, and as he countered my inexperienced moves, we tumbled
off the platform bed onto his exotic maroon kilim rug. The shock of the
fall knocked some of the fight out of me and I ended up squashed prone
against the carpet, with my arms pinned behind me.

"Feisty fella aren't you?" His deep voice was warm against my ear. Almost
erotic and I shivered. "So you wanna play, doc?"

I moaned again, trembling as he sank his strong white teeth into my naked
shoulder. "James."

In a flash, he spun me round again, slammed me down on the floor and
tugged my arms up above my head, holding them tight in his big hand. He
held his beautiful head above mine, watching me through his narrowed dark
eyes. "You don't want this, John?" A wicked grin spread across his darkly
handsome face as he bucked his lean hips against mine, nudging the hard,
aroused length of his erection against my thigh. A veritable montage of
erotic images crashed through my mind as I felt him.

"Fuck you." Even as I struggled, I found myself getting turned on by him
and I damned him for it. God, even as my lustful gaze skimmed down his
absurdly handsome face to his exquisite lips, I wanted them on me. I
wanted him hard, hot and naked, his soft, impossibly silky skin brushing
against mine, his solid, powerful muscles sliding slickly against mine,
his hot, hard cock...

Correctly guessing the salacious trend of my thoughts, James chuckled,
the low, deep laugh rumbling through his broad chest. "You little sex
pig, you can't lie to me. You don't want a reformed, little do-gooder
angel. You like me like that, don't you? All wicked and bad." The gleam
was back in his eye, but there was nothing cold and calculating about
them now. There was only blistering heat, and an overwhelming need that I
recognized. "The bad boy of the Sung family."

"Say it." He teased me in a breathless whisper, giving me little nips on
the jaw with his talented mouth. My silence was rewarded with another
short laugh. "You're only pissed cause you don't like being in the
backseat, John."

There was only one reply to such insolence. "Shut up and kiss me, you
arrogant asshole."

His answering grin was almost triumphant as he swooped down on me.