THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Ewan
By and copyright Lady Poetess
http://www.menshouse.com/members/ladyelvera/
Disclaimer: This story is fictitious and bears no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.
To Jeff, who keeps reminding me that Scott Speedman needs his own story.
ONE
With one hand rummaging for what was left in the packet of jellybeans, the man didn't bother to hide his yawn with his other hand. The couple on the stage were performing a most energetic stimulation of fucking, two young, splendid, beautiful young men with perfect physique, pretty wholesome faces, and perfect teeth. Wearing only tiny thongs that barely concealed their promising bulges, they had the crowd wild and eating out of their hands -- or from any other portion of their anatomy.
Ewan McGregor's sole reaction was to wonder what could have driven young, wholesome men like those to get on stage and perform like that. He was no prude, and he had done his share of sins, but he wondered why couldn't those two young men just stay in school and get good, well-paying jobs with decent benefits.
Yeah, he was 29, 30 in a month's time, and he was feeling 60. He placed two jellybeans into his mouth and cursed Christian for putting him through this. If Christian Bale didn't show up in -- Ewan checked his watch -- ten minutes, Ewan would leave, to hell with everything.
He didn't have to, as it turned out.
"Sorry, I'm late," Christian Bale, the handsome, smug, and ultra-successful bastard whom Ewan hated and would unhesitatingly choke were not Chris his long-patient editor, said, finally appearing out of the crowd. "Got caught up in things."
Yeah, Ewan thought, probably anything would get a higher priority in Chris' life than he. He was just an author already dismissed by everyone as a flash-in-the- pan. Ewan's one and only book, The Sound Of Snow, was a wildly successful children's book that caught the imagination of even the most killjoy critics. Then Ewan just couldn't write anymore. Harry Potter came soon after and Ewan was pretty much forgotten by now.
Now, Ewan was here to beg. He was way behind in his deadline, he had spent his advance, and he would be in deep shit if Random House decided to sue him for breach of contract. Just one more month -- he could finish his book and hand it in by one month.
"Ah, there you are." Chris wasn't speaking to Ewan, however. Ewan didn't mind -- his world stopped turning the moment that man walked into his life. Technically, into Chris' arms.
The man wasn't handsome in a conventional, pretty boy way, but his coarse, elfin features drew Ewan like no other pretty boys could. This young man was dressed in a manner typical of club prowlers -- tight muscle tee, indecently tight jeans, but Ewan wasn't complaining. Not when the man's clothes allowed Ewan ample opportunity to drool and get a hard-on over the tightly muscled torso and shapely butt and thighs.
And then the man kissed Chris. Ewan heard his own pained sharp intake of breath as he watched Chris' hand brazenly slipped between the man's thighs. He had to look away.
"Hey, meet John Paul, my new friend," Chris said, unknowingly drawing Ewan even deeper into the abyss of lust. "We're good friends, aren't we, JP?" he murmured, his hand now pushing under the other man's shirt.
"Hi," John Paul or JP or whatever said, giving Ewan a smile, a goofy smile that fitted his unsophisticatedly appealing face so beautifully. "I -- Chris!"
Ewan looked away before his envy and jealousy was reflected in his eyes. JP -- what a beautiful man, Ewan thought even as he parted his thighs slightly to accommodate his raging erection in his jeans. Yet, yet -- even looking away, he could see JP's smile in his mind. Every brilliant moment, every elegant upward curve of those thick, sensual lips was imprinted in Ewan's mind like a burning branding. And he had to look one more time.
Chris' hand was still up JP's shirt, visibly pinching the man's nipples. JP, however, was looking at Ewan, his expression inscrutable. And Chris, noticing his lover's attention on the unwanted guest, bit back a curse and turned his attention to Ewan. "This is Ewan McGregor," Chris said not too graciously.
If the previous smile was dazzling, JP's current smile was a million suns in Ewan's eyes. "I love your book!" the man said, his face lightening Ewan's senses with his apparently genuine pleasure at knowing Ewan's identity. "Actually it was my sister's, and I read it when I went home to visit, but -- wow! It's so great to meet you."
"Well, your favorite author is here to beg for mercy," Chris murmured. "Aren't you, Ewan?"
His face burning with shame, Ewan could do nothing but to mumble, "Chris, that's why you call me here to talk about, remember?"
"What? No, I call you here because it's convenient for me to meet you and pick up JP at the same time. He works here. As a dancer." Chris' grin was one of a lion toying with his weaker subjects. "JP is very good at dancing."
It was all Ewan could do not to jump across the table and reach for Chris' throat, especially when for the first time, something resembling embarrassment or even shame flickered in JP's eyes. Then again, why would JP be so concerned about what Ewan would think of him? Oh yeah, he said Ewan was his favorite author. Ewan wanted to kill somebody.
"I'd love to read your next book," JP said.
Ewan wondered if JP seemed as dull a conversationist as he had so far implied on being. And the next heartbeat, he decided it didn't matter. He couldn't take his eyes off that man. And he couldn't stop seeing that smile in his mind, and he couldn't stop wanting to stay here and drink in the sight of JP, beautiful JP, until the end of time.
"You do? Okay, fine. JP says he'd like to see you get published a little longer, I'll do that." Chris snapped his fingers for the waiter. "See you around, Ewan. Come on JP..." whatever he said next was lost in a whisper in JP's ears.
Better Ewan didn't more. JP laughed at whatever Chris said, and Ewan couldn't take it anymore. Not without breaking something. He quietly stormed his way to the exit. And hence missed JP's one last look at him before the man let Chris kiss him.
TWO
John Paul Pitoc was naked except for a flimsy, gauzy sheet carelessly spread over his muscular right thigh that fell over the man's crotch, covering enough to doom Ewan into disappointment. But there was enough steaming muscular torso and thighs bared to make Ewan's mouth dry and his cock hard as stone.
He had dreamed of JP for the three nights since he saw the man at the club. And he sometimes found himself following every tall man with dark, slightly curly hair and muscular build, hoping futilely that it might be JP and they could maybe talk, have a cup of coffee that Ewan would lace with enough drugs that would knock JP out, and they could fuck long and hard.
"What are you doing here?" JP asked, seeing Ewan and lifting his upper body from the bed. The sheet fell lower, exposing the start of a neatly trimmed triangular pubic bush.
"Chris had to rush for some meeting, and he asked me to drive you -- somewhere -- before his wife comes back," Ewan tried not to mumble, still angered and shamed that Chris would see fit to use him this way in return for that one month deadline.
But JP understood. "Oh. That's okay." He didn't ask anything more. "I'll get dressed."
It was hard, but Ewan turned away as JP carelessly flung the sheet away. His nostrils detected the faint trace of sex -- semen and sweat in a potent olfactory cocktail -- and there was no mistaken what Chris was doing with JP before he called Ewan half an hour ago. Hurt, envy and jealousy and the violent yearning to scream, tear, and fight for what he wanted so badly, the pain was a hammer striking the anvil of his heart. "Are you done?" Ewan asked, his voice husky with need and frustrated hunger, his fingers clenched in a fist.
"Yeah."
Ewan turned. His eyes still stung and his mouth watered to see JP wearing those skin-tight jeans and that simple cotton T-shirt that clung to the muscular contours of his physique.
"Where do you want to go?" Ewan asked.
"I don't know. Dinner will be nice," JP said.
JP didn't mean to brush against Ewan when they made their way through the door. Ewan would laugh and say later that perhaps their bodies had the right idea where their brains didn't. As it was, Ewan's hand shot up to steady JP, but the damage was done. Ewan's body was humming taut with lust, but the feel of JP's hard-muscled body brushing his caused him to snap. Without any coherent thought, he gripped JP's shoulders and pushed the man hard against the wall. When JP opened his mouth to say something, Ewan zoomed in for the kill.
He was kissing JP, his brain could hardly believe or accept that. But nonetheless, he was tugging at the man's lips and playing with the other man's tongue with his in a sensual writhing dance. JP's long legs lifted as Ewan sat the man on the windowsill, to wrap around Ewan's waist. With a low savage moan, Ewan buried his face in JP's shoulder and ground his cock against the junction of JP's thighs. JP was clawing at Ewan's back, pulling the other man's shirt out of his trousers and rubbing at naked flesh. Then Ewan gave a guttural cry and shuddered as he lost control. He came, ejaculating into the confines of his shorts under his pants, as he thrust one more time at Ewan.
"This is embarrassing," Ewan finally said when he got his breath back. "Fuck, I can't believe I came in my pants."
"That's okay. I can clean it up." JP said, his hands reaching for the fastenings of Ewan's trousers.
"Chris' wife -- "
"Oh, yeah."
Ewan wanted to chuckle at the look of disappointment in JP's face. "Come on, I'll take us to my place, and we can continue where we leave off there."
Ewan's heater had been broken for two weeks now and he had decided to forgo fixing it in favor of buying canned food for his meals. But this time the freezing water had no effect on his or JP. At least not for their vigorous fuck that resulted from their aborted attempt to bathe together.
Ewan sighed in pleasure as he let his head fall back. JP's fingers worked their magic on his scalp as the man washed Ewan's hair.
"I can't stop thinking about you since I saw you at the club," Ewan murmured. "Can't sleep, can't think..."
"I'm here now," JP just answered. His hands were like the most soothing of touch, now moving to rub the back of Ewan's neck.
"Yeah." Ewan let himself lean against JP, luxuriating in the feel of his back against the hard muscular wall of JP's front. JP laughed throatily and pushed Ewan forward a little, letting his hands slowly move to rub the ease out of Ewan's shoulders. Those fingers mercilessly pressed, rubbed, and pounded every strain from Ewan's body. His shoulders... down the length of his back... and Ewan gasped when JP's fingers smoothed the crease between his buttocks, teasing him with the delicious friction of callused fingers on sensitive skin. The sensation caused Ewan to part his legs wider, a stance JP took ruthless advantage of by parting Ewan's butt cheeks. His fingers lathered with soap stroked the sensitized folds tightly guarding the entrance of Ewan's anus, before slowly penetrating Ewan's flesh one finger by another, inch by inch.
"Ahh..." Ewan buckled, and JP's another free arm circled his waist to steady him. Three fingers tightly packing Ewan's hole, stretching him to breaking point, and intensifying the keening pleasure-pain was the slow up thrust and withdrawal of those fingers in slow, circular strokes as they lathered Ewan's insides with soap suds, cleaning him. He couldn't take it -- he gave a choked cry when JP hit a spot so deep up him that a sharp tearing pleasure rippled through him in a wave of spasm. Then JP was replacing his fingers with his thick, pulsing erection.
Ewan place one hand against the wall to steady himself, but with his other free hand, he let it stray onto JP's torso behind him, tracing the deep pubic arch of that man, feeling the rock-hard six-pack abs of the man's stomach until he found the base of the other man's cock. All coherence was obliterated however when JP started thrusting his hips, fucking his cock deep in Ewan's pulsing groove.
It was more than lethal a payback for Ewan's own savage fucking of JP hours earlier. Ewan had practically raped that man, infuriated when he found JP still dripping wet with Christian Bale's semen. And JP had laughed then, meeting every hard bang of Ewan's crotch with his own frantic urging. And now, Ewan bit his lower lip from screaming out loud. When JP's cock lacked in length, it compensated for its almost abnormal thickness, and Ewan was getting the best, fucking rogering of his life.
"Don't you dare come!" JP shouted.
"I'll try," Ewan gasped, feeling the pleasure flooding at the base of his spine, threatening to unleash itself on him -- if only he could reach that peak... that brutal banging of that thick wet cock head against his burning prostate... he lifted his butt to meet JP's increasingly brutal fuck pumps, needing that surcease only the thick, molten ooze of seminal ejaculate could give. Then there it was -- JP's triumphant climax. The sluicing scalding rich and heated spurts of fresh male fuck dream, flooding Ewan's insides, making him feel whole, cleansed, and wasted.
He didn't come, much to JP's delight. The latter rewarded Ewan with that charming crooked smile, right before he got down on his knees and closed his lips over the burning crown of Ewan's cock.
Christian Bale called that night, demanding to know where the fuck JP was. "I'm down with a cold," JP explained using Ewan's phone. And Chris never asked whether JP was feeling better. "That's okay," JP told Ewan. "He wants a relationship of easy sex, me at his beck and call. I don't expect anything more."
"What's in it for you?" Ewan asked quietly, not sure how to voice his real question -- what he could do to win JP from Christian Bale.
"What else? Hard cash, of course." JP looked at Ewan searchingly, but he wouldn't find any judgment from the latter. Ewan was too cognizant of what it meant to pimp oneself for money. Still, JP didn't know the other man that well to feel compelled to explain. "I was born poor -- "
"So was I. But I'm not castigating you on your choices. I probably would do the same if I am handsome, well-hung, and if I had time and compulsion to work out in the gym." Ewan made to douse out his cigarette on the ashtray beside the bed. "Look at this dump," he said, talking about his apartment.
"I don't get it. You just spend your time writing?" JP asked. He was lying beside Ewan, his arms behind his head as a cushion.
Ewan sighed and moved his head to rest his cheek on the crook of JP's arm. "I was working at some restaurant as a waiter two weeks ago before I got fired. I wasn't paying attention and I sometimes find it too difficult to concentrate, like keeping orders straight."
JP had a devilish grin on his face when he lifted his head to look at Ewan. "I have a plan. You need money, right?"
"Yeah."
"I can share what Chris give me with you."
"No!" Ewan's sudden fury startled JP. "No," Ewan said again. "I will not have you whore yourself for me. It's hard enough that I know you will be back in his bed tomorrow. Don't even tell me to take what he gives you."
JP's face was just as hard, his usually easy-going, goofy mien now frozen in muted stone. Except in just one brief second, when he flinched in instinctive recoil at the realization that the man he was starting to care for had just reminded him of what they chose to deny: he was, indeed, a whore. "I didn't know it is killing you to sleep with me now," he lashed out, hurt.
"Yes it is," Ewan stated bluntly, his own face etched in pain. "When I know you will go back to him when he snaps his fingers. I wish I can -- "
JP looked at him, not daring to confront his own feelings.
Ewan cursed and kicked off the sheets as he jumped off the bed to walk to the mirror across the room. His own face, pale and nothing to shout about next to Christian Bale's aristocratic handsomeness, looked back. Ewan touched his chest and stomach, felt the lack of muscular definition that Christian and JP had, and groaned. Closing his eyes and hitting his forehead hard against the mirror, he despaired. He would never match Chris in JP's estimation. And JP would leave.
A part of him hoped that JP would walk up to him and put his arms around Ewan and that JP would whisper that everything would be okay. So what if Ewan was poor and had trouble making any direction in his life, they would work out a plan together. They would make this work.
But JP, blinded by his own pain, didn't do that. He looked across the room at Ewan, not really seeing Ewan but his own pain at being rejected by Ewan, and couldn't find any word to say. Finally, he didn't say anything at all.
THREE
There was no mountain too high and no rivers too wide, so a love song went. JP looked at the sleeping Chris beside him and wondered if he was feeling despair or self-loathing. It had been two weeks since he and Ewan fucked and screwed up everything, still he couldn't escape the lingering afterthoughts of Ewan's words, the aftertaste of Ewan's skin and fluids, and the most devastating of all, the moment of being held by a man who didn't seem to see the lonely man inside JP's façade.
He left the bed and walked into the shower. The moment the hot water sprayed on him, his reserve snapped. A hoarse, broken sob he didn't even recognize as his broke free from him, and it was the final wedge in his control. His tears he couldn't tell apart from the water from the shower, and he scrubbed himself raw, washing the traces of Chris' come from every inch of his insides until he couldn't take it anymore. Until he lost his will to fight anymore and he fell onto the shower floor, his tears falling freely at last.
He didn't know how long he was in the shower. But he was composed when he walked out, drying himself with a towel, an expensive thick towel that represented everything Christian Bale was -- money, luxury, and ease. JP was more than willing to play the game to earn the rewards Christian offer. But now, with Ewan, he was finding it more and more difficult to keep doing so.
Ewan -- JP missed Ewan. How could this happen? They met just once, fall into bed too soon, and that was all. It was a fling, nothing more.
There should be no reason for Ewan to walk out from the shadows like a hero with perfect timing. There should be no reason why JP's heart sang and he wanted to break down in relief and joy.
Ewan placed his finger to his lips. Chris was still asleep in the bedroom.
"What are you doing here?" JP whispered urgently.
"I miss you. I just have to see you." Ewan was ready with his arms wide open as JP ran into his embrace willingly. "I'm the one who stole the key Chris gave you."
"I guessed," JP said.
"I won't ask you to leave him. I know I can't give you -- this." Ewan looked around him. "But I would love to have whatever part of your life that you will let me in, JP."
JP shook his head. "No, Ewan, I'm done with this. I can't do this anymore. I'll get a job, something -- I'll wait tables with you. I have some money myself. But your book..."
"I did nothing but write the last few weeks. I tried to forget you that way, but it didn't work." Ewan grinned weakly. "It's done. Maybe one day I will write again. I don't know."
"You're free."
"Yeah. How about you?"
JP shrugged. "I once read about this couple so madly in love that they defied their parents and eloped into the night."
"So what do your parents say?" Ewan asked, taking a step towards JP.
"I don't care." JP took Ewan's hand in his.
When Christian Bale woke up two hours later, horny and wanting JP to pump, he found himself alone in the penthouse. There was a note left on his bedside that he noticed when he was dressing later.
Dear Chris,
I've found someone. I hope you won't be too mad, but I won't be available for weekends anymore. It was fun while it lasted, thanks for everything.
JP.
There was only one possible bastard behind this. Chris wasn't blind; he had been perversely playing Ewan off with JP, secure in his hold over JP. Obviously he had overplayed his own value to JP. That young man wasn't as greedy as Chris expected him.
Fuck. Chris shrugged -- he was rich, he was handsome, he would find someone else. Life went on. So what if JP was the best he ever had and he would probably take JP back when the latter surely came back crawling. Money won over garbage sentimentality like "true love" anytime.
But as he looked back at his apartment, which he bought specifically for his sex trysts, he felt a rare twinge of melancholy at how lonely and empty the penthouse seemed. And somehow he knew, instinctively, that JP would probably never come crawling back.