THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Seann
By and copyright Lady Poetess
Disclaimer This story is fictitious and bears no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.
PROLOGUE
"I'd like to buy some painkillers, Miss," the young man said, an earnest, crooked smile on his face. "Althezol, please."
"You'll need a prescription for that," the pharmacist said, looking the man head to toe. The man was pretty good-looking in a boyish way, but whatever boyish charm he might have was obliterated by the desperation in his too-bright eyes. The pharmacist wasn't aware of Althezol being addictive, but she supposed if junkies were creative enough, there was always a possibility. She hesitated when the man's eyes pleaded with her.
The man slowly placed his hands on the counter. "Please, I need these pills. The normal over-the-counter stuff doesn't work anymore."
"I'm sorry," the woman said, softening despite herself at the helpless look on the man's face. "I can't give you any of those pills without a prescription."
For a fearful second she thought the man would hit her, but the murderous rage on the man's face faded after a second, she wondered if she had imagined it. The man only nodded in resignation, his face still the placid facade, and offered his quiet thanks.
"You can't keep living this way," Brian Littrell said, watching Seann as the latter threw six painkillers into his mouth and drank them down with a glass of water. I can't keep forging prescriptions for you."
Seann gave a soft oath then flung the plastic bottle across his room with all his might. "They don't work. They are fucking useless!"
"Look, Seann, painkillers never work. Look, there are meditation classes you can take to learn to control yourself. Yoga's good."
"You think so? I've never been to a yoga or meditation class." Seann threw himself down on his seat and looked at the glass on the table. "You think these classes work?"
Brian deftly removed the glass before Seann's eyes even took on the mad gleam Brian recognized so well.
Seann looked at the other man. "I'm out of control, right?"
"You're still in control," Brian said, then hesitated. "Barely."
"If there's a way to stop, I will." Seann gestured at the pile of self-help books and videos on self-control and discipline on his shelves. "For my sake, I hope yoga is as good as you say it is."
Brian hesitated, never attended any yoga classes in his life. "Trust me, it'll do you good," he said smoothly.
ONE
Only the desperate and the wicked ventured to the underbelly of crime city in New York known as Hell's Pit. The man known incongruously as just Tim was what one could call ironically a police officer for one of the many crimelords that ruled the many subsections of Hell's Pit. His past was actually pretty mundane – he was the son of a fishmonger from Detroit, but he wouldn't boast of it. Hence his origins were always blown out of proportion and totally, outrageously wrong.
He wondered if the fragile-looking boyish man sitting at the chair, hands and feet tied, heard the tale where he murdered his drug dealer father, raped his mother and sister, and took over the family business, or the one where he was the illegitimate son of the mysterious tyrant of this section of Hell's Pit groomed for future succession. Probably neither, since the man was observing him with a rather silly grin on his handsome face.
Tim went down on one knee and studied the man face-to-face. It was only sheer practice and force of will that enabled him to speak evenly, "Who are you?" Because inside, he was hard-pressed not to push the man to the ground, tear off the man's silly pleated black slacks, and shoved his own engorged cock up the man's ass.
For five days he had watched the man court death in Hell's Pit. For a man to whom death was a daily job nuisance, a routine chore that had to be dispatched, this stranger's flirting with death was like fireworks thrown into his increasingly ennui-ridden emotions. He had stared from the upper tiers, watching in reluctant fascination as this stranger laughed with a knife plunged right through his right hand, pinning that hand to the table. And the man taunted several thugs even the most desperate denizens of Hell's Pit stayed away from, almost sparking a brutal and undoubtedly fatal gang-rape were Tim not nearby to control the situation. And only yesterday the man accused Charles Kennoit, a trigger-happy bastard, of cheating at cards.
Tim watched, and his heart burned at the sight of such impudence and foolishness. This man became his obsession as he found himself intrigued at the reasons behind the man's suicidal tendencies. At first he thought the man had a death wish, but after watching the tape caught on security cameras of the man laughing with a knife through his hand, Tim knew.
This man enjoyed his brush with death. Tim could see the exhilaration in the man's eyes, the fuck-you defiance in his reckless impulsiveness that increasingly made even the worst low-lives stay away warily from him, and in the laugh that was clear in its good cheer, without bitterness. The demon in Tim was drawn to this man, driving Tim hungry with a need to possess this man, this strange paradox of frail, hapless physical appearance to the burning, insane devil inside.
Now, even the scent of the man's sweat and cologne was driving Tim wild. His nostrils flared like a bull in heat as he bit on his knuckle for control. Ignoring the thin trickle of blood from his bite, he repeated his question, "Who are you?"
The man's deep, clear, insane blue eyes never stop glittering in amusement as he said simply, "Seann William Scott. But you can call me Seann."
"Seann." Tim tasted the name on his tongue. "Seann, Seann, Seann," he said, standing up and sitting on his desk. "You have caused me a lot of trouble in the past few days."
"Oops. Sorry." Seann tested the bindings that held his hands behind the chair. "Why am I tied up?"
"It's just common protocol," Tim answered, studying Seann's boyish, almost innocent facade of mischief. He looked like nothing more than a foolish boy breaking into a haunted house just to spite his parents. But no boy laughed with a knife severing his arteries and tendons. Tim felt his blood simmer slowly at the memory, at the man's daredevil laugh. He actually found such madness… arousing and exhilarating, and he wanted with a ravenous hunger in his loins to conquer and break the fragile Seann.
"It's okay then. So, what is this meeting about? It's not every day one gets invited into the private, air-conditioned rooms of the rulers of Hell's Pit."
"You're not worried?" Tim asked with a lift of his eyebrow.
"No. Should I be?" There was a distinct challenge in the tilt of Seann's head and in the disarmingly cheerful voice.
"You should. I can barely control myself from fucking you right there on your chair."
Seann only glanced at the tremendous bulge of Tim's erection at Tim's crotch and looked up at Tim archly. "You think you can fuck me without untying me?"
Tim let loose a low growl in his chest as he got off the table. He advanced towards Seann, who looked back at him unflinchingly and with only casual interest as Tim placed his Swiss knife at where Seann's right indentation of his pubic arch would be. As Tim pressed the blade, cutting through silk, down, he lowered his opened mouth to Seann's lips, which parted in anticipation of Tim's kiss. The sound of tearing fabric rent the air as Tim bent over, deepening the kiss, letting his tongue flick and rub over every inch of Seann's mouth. And Seann was answering his kiss with his own deep suction and exploration of Tim's mouth with his tongue.
"Untie me… let me touch you," Seann whispered when Tim broke off the kiss to cut through the man's belt.
Tim grinned wolfishly, ripping off Seann's ruined trousers in one sweep of his arm. "If you're a good fuck, I'll let you touch me later," he said, pushing Seann's shirt up to above the man's nipples. He gave the nipples and the flat stomach a long languid lick, then looked at Seann's thick cock throbbing towards his stomach. Tim gave the pulsing head a brief lick, savoring the taste.
Seann gave an excited/terrified yelp when Tim lifted the man, still trussed up, over his shoulders. He was laughing when Tim sat on the chair and pushed Seann's dry, unprepared anus down his thick turgid cock. The man only gasped softly, eyes closed in rapture, when Tim's cock rend the man's tender flesh apart, tearing apart the tight muscular anal walls, until Tim groaned at the really tight friction of his cock against the walls of the anus. He lifted Seann's hips roughly, bruising the man, and Seann cried out in pain. As Tim bucked in the chair, pumping short, hard thrusts into Seann, his hands pinched and clawed at Seann's chest and stomach until Seann shook his head and screamed in the pleasure of Tim's savage fucking. He looked down at the trickle of blood running down his thigh to Tim's, the red liquid and the pain driving him out of control. Spasms after spasms of agony rocked through him, sending red-hot pleasures surging and electrifying his senses, until the world faded from his consciousness. Until there was nothing but that thick cock shooting steaming juices up his burning, torn anus and the searing, earth-shattering climax only such sweet agony could bring.
In the mirror, he was a tall, well-muscled, and slim man who looked just like what he was – a merciless, ruthless killer. Tim grinned at his reflection, and rubbed at the purple-red bite marks on his chest. They stung slightly, a gift from Seann's skilful mouth. He turned to look at the man still tied up on the bed, his arms and legs tied spread-eagled to each bedpost.
"You really should untie me," Seann said weakly. "I want to touch you."
Tim shook his head as he looked at Seann in the mirror.
"How long are you going to keep me tied up and naked in your bed? What if I need to piss and shit?"
Good question. Tim jumped onto the bed, over Seann's body. Placing his hands on each sides of Robert's head on the pillow, he settled to lie over the man's body. "You know, I will keep you here until I figure out how to stop you from disrupting Hell's Pit. It's bad for business." Tim growled, nudging the tip of his cock against Seann's exposed anal pucker. "So, how about a quick fuck before I start my day?" he asked even as he started sliding his penis up Seann's ass, which closed over him in warm welcome.
As Tim pumped his cock, crying out his climax five minutes later, he knew. He would keep Seann tied up and naked here at his exclusive use always and at all time, until he inadvertently got bored of this man. Seann had better pray that day wouldn't be soon, because Tim had no intention of letting him walk out of here alive.
TWO
Tim calmly reloaded his gun. The man cowered at the ground, whimpering to be spared the fate that had his two buddies lying on the ground with their heads blown off. "Sorry, buddy, nothing personal," Tim said, taking aim.
The man's action caught him by surprise. He gasped in anger at his own carelessness when the hypodermic needle jabbed into his thigh. As the content of the syringe entered his bloodstream, he staggered as his vision began to blur. As he staggered before falling onto the floor, however, he saw something even more shocking.
Seann walked into the room. The man who attacked Tim wasn't aware of the other man's presence until Seann delivered a vicious kick that distinctly cracked the man's skull.
"Hi," Seann said to Tim, grinning as he pressed the sole of his heavy boot against the right cheek of the fallen man. "Tim, you ought to seek some more entertaining company." He looked down and started to whistle as if he was taking a stroll down a park instead of driving his foot down hard on the man's face.
Tim tried to laugh, but he slipped into darkness before he could utter a sound.
The first person he saw when he opened his eyes was, as he was hoping, Seann. His goofy grin as always in place, he stood at the side of Tim's bed, obviously enjoying Tim's headache and humiliation.
"How did you find me?" Tim tried to ask.
"I was a Boy Scout. There are a lot of things I can do," Seann answered simply. "I thought of tying you up, but I realized I like it better when it's you doing the tying." When Tim tried to stand up, he pushed the man down in surprising gentleness. "Whoa, stay down. Don't worry about Simmy."
Tim gurgled in weak laughter. Trust Seann to call the much-feared boss Simon the more ignoble name of Simmy.
"I have a nice long talk with Simmy, and he understands how even the best slip up once a while. So you'll just rest and don't worry about anything."
When Seann sat on Tim's desk to read a book (Mind Discipline, Tim read the title with some surprise), however, Tim saw Seann's wounded hand, the bandage now freshly bloodied and missing the last finger. He knew Simon was never that forgiving, but the thought of Seann taking the punishment intended for Tim caused a strange feeling to warm the chill in his heart.
Tim got on his feet later that day even though it hurt him the first few steps, because he was terrified of Seann's reckless ways drawing Simon's wrath. It was a gratifying notion to learn that Seann saved his life, because no one had ever actually did such a thing for him before. He kissed the man's bandaged hand gently that night as he fucked Seann, and vowed that he would take good care of this mad man under him.
His underlings had long learned to tolerate his sexual peccadilloes, but Seann had earned their wary respect, Tim learned, the day the man saved their boss' life. Loyalty was one of the most hard-earned guarantee of survival in Hell's Pit, and Seann had earned theirs the day he revealed a bloodthirsty cruel streak, frightening in its nonchalance and contrast with Robert's goofy frail appearance, that rivaled Tim's.
Seann hadn't uttered a sound when Simon had his finger chopped off with a blunt cleaver, but it was said that the insane, aroused gleam in the man's eyes terrified even Simon.
Tim's respect for Seann was raised a notch when he saw the corpse of the asshole who tried to kill him. Tim's men found Seann whistling the tune of 'Our Father, God Celestial' as he casually, easily shattered the man's ribcage and ruptured his liver and intestines with several well-aimed kicks even as the man lay dying from the concussion in his head. He had long known that Seann was insane – the man took painkillers the way a thirsty man drank because pain was the only way he could get sexually aroused, and without painkillers, there was a risk that he could lose all control and destroy himself.
"The painkillers never work," Seann told Tim one night as Tim held him. "Even those books I read – how to control myself and other rot – don't work."
"I won't let you hurt yourself," Tim said, kissing the man's forehead.
"Well, I love the way you hurt me," Seann said. "You're creative, not like those boring twits whose idea of pain is to whip the belt as if I'm cattle." As Tim bit into Seann's nipple, drawing blood, Seann shivered in delicious pleasure. "Oh yes, like that. You mix pain with pleasure so well, I'm actually going to be sorry when you kill me."
"I won't kill you," Tim said, meaning every word. When he was with Seann, his cock spearing Seann's anus, his hips a relentless piston as he balled Seann hard, he could forget the strenuous foothold of his position in Hell's Pit, the tiresome killings, and the fact that he might as well die tomorrow. He could even pretend that he and Seann were two normal people who could feel emotions like love.
"I had a dream. I saw us in a nice big ranch in lush green fields. We have a large overweight rottweiler named Bratwurst and a border collie named Liverwurst. It's so fucking sweet that I know it must be a dream," Seann said, his eyes closed as he slowly fell asleep.
"It's a dream." Tim said, looking at the man beside him sleep. In repose, with the madness at bay, Seann looked vulnerable and… normal, a nice guy anyone would be more than happy to take home to meet his parents.
"But it was lovely while it lasted," Seann murmured.
Tim felt his heart hurt. He burrowed his head into the warmth of Tim's shoulder, inhaling the man's scent even as he thrust his hips up to drive his now sated and flaccid cock up as deep as Seann as possible. Because he feared that he could lose precarious, unpredictable Seann any moment, and he knew he might not be able to live with that loss.
THREE
Brian Littrell coughed, stale blood from his throat flooding his mouth. He had no idea how long they had kept him here in this sunless room, but at least they had stopped beating him bloody for today.
He winced when sunlight flooded his room, blinding him painfully.
"Hello Nemesis. You really should stop busting your ass for Control," the man who was a black silhouette in Brian's blinded vision said as he unlocked Brian's manacles.
Brian's vision slowly returned. He saw Seann, a thin trail of blood at one corner of his mouth, and a dead guard at the floor outside the cell. He, a veteran of many gory scenes, couldn't help but to recoil from the wild, bloodlust-induced exhilaration in Sean's bright eyes.
"Sorry I'm late. It takes time to win people's trust and find out where you're held," Seann said. "Can you run?"
Brian winced as he took a step. "I'll manage," he said as dry as he could in his pain, his sarcasm lost on the other man.
Seann looked at the body on the floor and licked his lips, perhaps unconsciously. He reached down and picked up the man's gun. Brian accepted the gun, noting how Seann's hands trembled slightly as he did so. He sighed – Seann had lost all control.
But first things first. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Brian looked out of the truck window. "Seann, what are you doing?"
"I'm not coming with you." Seann stopped in his walking away.
"Seann – "
"Brian," Seann interrupted, his voice hard. "Look at me. I've lost all control of myself, and you know what? It feels fucking good. I don't want to try to be who I'm not any more. I love to kill. I won't fit in the nice, safe world out there, Brian. Besides, Tim needs someone to watch his back."
"There are ways to help you, Seann," Brian started to say.
"Brian, I haven't taken painkillers for a month." Seann spread his hands and chuckled, and for a moment Brian saw Seann as the happy, carefree young man that he might have been in another life. "By losing control I've finally gained control of myself. Paradoxical? Who gives a fuck? Go home, Brian. You've found your happy ending, let me find mine, okay?"
Brian looked away, hiding his tears from Seann who wouldn't understand. A part of him was torn apart to bleed because he would forever live with the knowledge that it was he who was the catalyst for Seann's final loss of his humanity and willing descent into madness. And he grieved too for the man who couldn't survive his past. Seann was too well trained and too damaged to let go.
He grieved, weeping for Seann and for all of them. His vision blurred, and in an angry shake of his head, he cleared his eyes of his tears. But by then, Seann was gone.
EPILOGUE
Tim aimed his gun at Seann's head. If his hand trembled and Seann noticed it, the latter showed no indication that he had.
"Why?" Tim asked, his voice finally breaking.
"It's something I have to do," Seann said, closing his eyes and awaiting the end. "Guess I'm not as heartless as I thought." He took a deep breath. "But we've had a great time, didn't we, Tim? And I don't even know your name," he said with some smidgen of regret in his voice.
Tim looked away, too battered and bruised emotionally to look at Seann. It hurt, it really hurt. He gritted his teeth, hardened his resolve, and before he could change his mind, fired.
Seann opened his eyes warily, somewhat disappointed that he wasn't dead.
"It's Olyphant. Timothy Olyphant's my real name," Tim said. "And I will kill you if I hear even one fucking elephant joke from you."
Seann looked at the dead man at the floor. "Simmy will kill you for this, Tim," he said, a tremor of excitement in his voice. "You just killed his man."
Tim only grabbed him in a crushing embrace and kissed him hard. "It's time for a new change in leadership anyway," he said with a sly grin. "Shall we go home?"
Seann laughed. He and Tim, together they would rule the world. "Come on, let's go shake up Hell's Pit."