Date: Tue, 11 Jan 2000 08:55:02 +0800 From: Emellie Giggles Subject: The Gentlemen's Club: Jeremy THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB Jeremy By Lady Poetess. Copyright 1999. Feel free to reproduce and distribute as long as you leave the credits and the author's note below intact. If you somehow make money out of this, well, good for you but please send some to me at egiggles@moose-mail.com! Author's note: This is actually a part of an ongoing fantasy fan-fiction about a fictional group of friends in New York whose weekly poker games form the basis of their story of finding love and laughter. These friends are -- under inexplicable circumstances! -- dead ringers from some music and movie celebrities, obscure or well known, that I find worth a write or two. The men and their lives depicted here have nothing in common with the real people they are based on apart from their appearances and names. I am not speculating on their sexual orientation or personal past. Again, everything is strictly fictional, apart from the character's good looks. Suing me is a waste of time, as frankly, to be blunt, I'm penniless. ONE "A man, woman, is never actually ever helpless," the man told the group of students in the basketball court. He pointed at his temple. "It all depends on not how strong or skilled you are, but how creative." He picked up a basketball and bounced it once or twice. "Actually I don't play basketball, my excuse is being British, but that's a blanket excuse for everything wrong with the world." Weak laughter greeted his words. He casually gave it one more bounce and then hurled the ball with an alacrity that stunned the students. The ball smashed onto the hoop of the far end of the court, cracking the surface of the board and breaking the hoop's attachment to the surface. The basketball, deflated, and the hoop crashed to the ground to stunned silence. "You can use anything to protect yourself," the man said nonchalantly. "Here's a further demonstration. Here's a video cassette," he said, pulling one from his suit pocket. "Any volunteer for this demonstration?" "Mr Northam, I asked for a talk on self-defense," Martha Plimpiton, principal of Holden High School, said through gritted teeth. "Not a talk about how to use basketballs and computer mice and buttons to maim and kill people!" "I did teach them how to defend themselves should they are caught in a situation without conventional weapons in their disposal," Jeremy Northam protested. "How am I supposed to know you just want me to lecture about some martial art thing?" "You know what your trouble is, Jeremy? You're screwed up. I mean, you look so… nice!" Martha waved her hands in desperation. "You look so polite, so normal, and when you go around telling people how a well-aimed coin could gouge out the eyes of your assailant, people get scared and think of Ted Bundy. Get therapy!" Martha sighed. "You have absolutely terrified my students. I have sixteen parents filing in complaints. Jesus." "I told you I'm not good with interacting with children. I'm a security expert, not a karate teacher." Jeremy cocked his head charmingly. "Besides, I don't exactly know any martial art." He bit on his lip thoughtfully, oblivious to Martha's reluctant fascination at the dash he projected with such small gesture. "Why are the parents complaining? Would they rather I teach their kids how to use a machine gun?" "Let's just say they'd rather you teach them their children how to use a more inaccessible machine gun than to use a simple spoon to stab a person to death. The only thing you've accomplished today, Jeremy dearest, is to ensure that no one would sit in the same table as you in the cafeteria." There was no one in the corridor, hence Jeremy was quite startled an hour after his discussion with his old friend Martha when he felt a sharp point sticking at the back of his neck. With ease he reached into his pocket, uncapped his ball pen in quick reflex motion and placed it on his assailant's stomach. "A stab here, Billy, will render your lower body paralyzed. Don't want to put your stubby cock to waste now, do we?" "Always the fast one, Jeremy." Billy Zane removed the sharp object -- a pencil. "And I'm still the only person who can sneak up on you." "What do you want?" Jeremy replaced the pen into his pocket. "I doubt there's a diamond or priceless artifact around here." "Actually, I need your help." "That's fresh. A wanted cat burglar asking a security expert for help. You must be desperate." Jeremy reached for a smoke. "Say, want some lunch? I have a feeling I'll be sitting in an empty table, and I can use some company." "I'm in deep trouble," Billy said, watching Jeremy eat his sandwich. "Tell me something new. What is it? They finally got an ID on you?" "No, no fucking way you people will have anything on me. But I now have Molly after a piece of me too." "No shit? Molly? Now you're in trouble." Jeremy pushed his sandwich wrapper aside and looked at the other man closely. Damn, but Billy still had the sexiest eyebrows and the man's face still reminded Jeremy of the devil incarnate. "I don't see what this has to go with me." "Maybe you can take me into custody?" Billy scowled at Jeremy's amused grin. "I'm dead serious. You can take me into your custody, and keep me away from Molly. That man is fucking lunatic, and I don't do the mob stuff." "Why is he so keen on seeing you dead? You robbed his collection?" "Actually I took his new painting. I didn't know the Monet was his, and when I did find out, the painting was already sold to a client I can't afford to alienate by stealing it back. I need a few months to lay low, hence, you." Laying Billy was quite a fascinating prospect, Jeremy thought. Shit, where did that thought come from? "And I take you into custody, hand you to the Interpol?" "No Interpol. You keep me in your custody for a month, then you can hand me off to the New York police. I'll escape in a day or two, and we can go back to playing our cat-and-mouse games again." Billy could look charming when he wanted to, and now he turned his fullest roguish charm on Jeremy in one potent look. "Come on Jeremy. Think of the publicity -- security expert caught infamous thief. You and I, for old time's sake?" "Why me?" Jeremy shook off the hypnotic spell that was Billy's eyes and soft, sensual timbre in his voice. He felt the start of a stirring in his loins, reminding him how long it had been since he had anyone in his bed. "Don't give me the we- are-friends bullshit." "Well, you want me to be honest?" "If you can. Try your best." "You're the only person I trust, believe it or not. You're Saint Jeremy, after all." "I really detest that moniker." Jeremy's eyes narrowed crossly. "Why do people think me incapable of deception or guile? Do I look that straightforward to you? No, don't answer." He snorted in disgust. "It's the way I talk, is it?" He lost his British accent on purpose. "Talk in a British accent and the whole world thinks you're John Lennon." "Hey, take it easy. You're talking to a fellow who has seen you in action. I am just complimenting your slightly better than average degree of honesty than your competitors out there. You're smarter (or else you won't come this close to catching me), and I know for a fact that you're clean." Jeremy chuckled. "I'm having lunch with a wanted man. You call that clean?" "Yes, if you'll take me into your custody." "No." Jeremy stood up. "I won't play your games, Billy. I have no reason or inclination to help you. Hell, I don't even like you." "So take me in and get to like me." "Forget it. I have a life to live." Jeremy walked away with a glance. That smarted, Billy thought sourly. Hell, so Jeremy didn't even like him? They had played games with each other for five years, and Billy was sure Jeremy enjoyed the mind games and strategy interception as much as he did. Jeremy was the best challenge he had ever had in his career, and it was Jeremy that Billy staged his thefts for. He was richer than Midas, he had no need for any more thieving, except for the thrill his hobby afforded him each time he came this close to being caught by Jeremy. Somehow his warped mind had come to view their games as a perverse form of courtship. Billy knew long ago Jeremy shared the same sexual preferences as he, and it only added a delicious erotic tension on their part. Or rather, his part, he amended. Seemed that he was the only one getting a hard-on from their encounters. Jeremy didn't like him. That smarted, hurt even. What did he expect? Logic told him to expect such reaction from Jeremy. A thought struck him. Maybe Jeremy was bluffing. Billy pondered the notion and quite liked it. He knew without vanity that he was one charming rogue who always got what he wanted, possession or otherwise. And he wanted Jeremy now, probably for a long time, since he first eluded Jeremy. Jeremy was intelligent, had cutting humor, and the only man whom Billy could kiss without having to bend down. Yes, Jeremy was perfect. "Let the game began," Billy told Jeremy's back. TWO Jeremy found, much to his disgust, that he had begun entertaining notions of having Billy in his bed. Somehow having Billy for lunch -- now that was a delightful thought -- had opened his eyes to Billy's demonic handsome face, the slim but well-muscled body with broad shoulders looking as if they could shoulder the world, and the devastating grin that promised everything and the moon. He had noticed these in passing, of course, but somehow in a week, Jeremy had started to get annoyingly aroused each time he started daydreaming about Billy naked. It wouldn't do. He and Billy were opposites when it came to which side of the law they aligned themselves to. It would ruin Jeremy's reputation if he were found to be sleeping with a man he was supposed to bring to justice. Now if only his libido would get that fact straight. His libido straightened in more ways than one when he found Billy naked on his doorstep. And promptly died when Jeremy saw the blood at Billy's temple and the man's swollen bruises on the right cheek (barely missing the eye). There was also a long knife-inflicted gash from under Billy's right nipple down to his navel in an obscene welt. "Shit. Molly did caught up you, old buddy." Billy opened one eye painfully, and groaned when agony wracked through his battered body. "Fuck," he snarled. "I believed the proper word should be 'fucked'." Jeremy walked into the room and pulled apart the curtains, ignoring Billy's curse when sunlight streamed into the room. "Looks like Molly caught up on you." Billy realized he was naked. There was a neat stitch along his chest (oh yes, the knife wound), and his face hurt. Every inch of him hurt. "I feel like shit." Memories flooded back -- his escape from Molly's men, the fat bastard cutting him like meat. Molly would pay. Maybe later -- Billy felt warm pleasure when Jeremy came over and gently tilted Billy's chin to look at the bruise. "You're pretty cut up, but the doctor did a good job in patching up as best as he could." "Am I under custody?" Billy asked hopefully. "No. You'll be murdered in jail, trust me. Not that it's an undesirable event, but I couldn't in all decency send you to your demise. So we are-" "In your secret holiday house," Billy finished it for the man. "How the hell did you know that?" Jeremy demanded. "There's very little I don't know about you. Don't look that outraged -- I believe there's little you don't know about me as well. Nice -- you saved my life. I owe you one." Billy looked down Jeremy's body and smiled wolfishly. "I will have to reward you lavishly." "Don't talk nonsense. When Molly is down I'll hand you over to the law. In the meanwhile, enjoy your stay." Jeremy shook his head in disgust and made to leave. "Don't be a frigid queen." "Fuck you!" Jeremy said. Billy's grin only widened. "Feel free." Jeremy slammed the door shut behind him. Billy was moaning in his sleep. Jeremy stood at the doorway in his trousers and felt pity warring with burning desire. Billy tossed in his sleep, his thick arm muscles flexing with each flailing of his arms, his torso glistening with sweat. Then Billy gave a quiet cry, "Jeremy!" "I'm here," Jeremy heard himself say. Despite his better judgement, he took Billy's hand in his. Billy's grip made him wince, but he ran his other hand through Billy's short dark hair. "It's okay, I'm here." Billy's eyes opened, his blue-green eyes darkened with pain. "Jeremy? I was dreaming of you. And other things. Sleep with me? I mean, just sleep? I'm not in the mood to be alone." "That's an understatement if I ever hear one. You're shivering." Jeremy swallowed, trying to ignore the sight of Billy's hard and tight curves of his taut buttocks; thankfully Billy turned when he raised the sheets for Jeremy to get under, shielding his cock from Jeremy's view. "I can't persuade you to remove the trousers, can I?" "It's not a good idea." "About the trousers?" Billy on purpose misunderstood the remark. "We are not a good idea," Jeremy said. Nonetheless, he hesitantly wrapped his right arm around Billy's shoulder, the touch burning the both of them. Billy's cock pulsed, hard enough to hammer nails, but Jeremy's touch was as comforting as it was arousing, and he slept. Jeremy awoke when he felt warm flesh on him. He slowly came to, and gasped when he saw Billy lying on him. "Billy? Get off me," he whispered. Billy was barely awoke, however, and Jeremy doubted the man knew what he was doing. But the hot swollen cock burning at Jeremy's tight puckered entrance between his legs told Jeremy that at least a part of Billy's mind was awake. Billy's hips were grinding in short thrusts, prodding insistently as Jeremy's gate, demanding entry. Jeremy shut his eyes. It had been so long, really too long, and he missed this. And in Billy's arms he felt the warm tranquility, a glorious feeling of being protected and adored. He made a quick decision, hoping the hell that he wouldn't regret it the next morning. He raised his legs to wrap them carefully around Billy's torso. Billy's sudden penetration caught him by surprise. His long-neglected asshole stretched painfully, wider than he had ever been stretched before, and Jeremy raised his ass higher to accommodate the man's coring of his anus. "Oh God!" he choked when Billy's cock plunged deep, causing every inch of Jeremy's well- packed rectum to burn. He tightened his hold on that massive cock, his anal walls so sensitive that he could almost feel the imprint of the thick pulsing veins in the thick shaft on him. Then Billy began to pump, savagely withdrawing then ramming home with a loud smack of pubic bones colliding mingling with the slapping sounds of flesh tearing flesh. Jeremy cried in pain and need, every muscle spasming hard, his hips threatening to break Billy's rips with each of the man's thrust. Despite his inebriated state, Billy's rhythm was steady, a well-oiled pistoning motion that sent sparks of pleasure bursting in Jeremy's body with each violent abrasion of that broad, moist cock crown against Jeremy's pulsing prostate. Then Jeremy sank his teeth into Billy's shoulder at one particularly deep thrust, and Billy shuddered, gritting his teeth as he spasmed; his buttocks tensed in iron hard tautness that flexed when Jeremy's fingers dug into the groove between them, then Billy was ejaculating his scalding hot semen in a scorching rush up Jeremy's aching bunghole, driving the man into his own private bliss. "I'm sorry," Billy murmured when Jeremy woke up groggily to the morning sunlight streaming into the room. "You're walking," Jeremy said stupidly. He moved his legs, winced when he felt his anus burned in soreness. "Nothing like getting a big load off my balls to get me up and walking again. Besides, someone has to check to see if this place is safe." Jeremy shut his eyes and burrowed his face into the pillow, smelling the fragrance of Billy's hair and delighting in the warm juices that seeped down his thighs. He rubbed his thighs, letting Billy's semen spread across his inner skin. "I think I have just lost your respect," he mumbled. "What's that? No way." Billy placed a mug of steaming hot coffee at the desk beside the bed. "I'm not exactly in control of myself last night. Are you willing?" he asked quietly. "Did I hurt you?" "I'm quite willing," Jeremy admitted. "Call it temporary insanity." "I'm hoping our first fuck would be in a more romantic situation," Billy said, getting onto his knees and placing his head on his right hand as he smiled crookedly at Jeremy. "I imagined candlelight, violin music, me giving you a diamond-studded jewelry. Nothing like this. I'm sorry." "What do you mean 'you imagined'?" Jeremy turned onto his stomach and looked at Billy face to face. "I've been planning to court you, get you in bed, the usual. Look at us, Jeremy. You and I have been practically dating for five years, much longer than any relationships in our lives. We might as well fuck -- we are practically living with each other." "That depends on your definition of 'living together'," Jeremy retorted, trying to bank his exhilaration at Billy's words. "My ideal relationship is definitely not spending my day trying to bust the ass of the man I'm sleeping with at night. I will be ruined if word got out that I'm sleeping with you." "That means we can't still fuck, can we?" Billy asked, easily ignoring Jeremy's words. Jeremy looked at the smooth, darkly-tanned expanse of Billy's muscular chest, at the increasingly thicker line of hair from his navel to the thick bush surrounding a penis impressively sized even in its flaccid state, and felt his own desire rising. "With that big cock, how can I resist?" he murmured. Billy chuckled and climbed onto the bed. "I'll quit my thieving," Billy gasped, thrusting his cock up Jeremy's wiggling ass. "I'll quit, you hear that Jeremy? I'll bloody quit and buy us an island and we'll fuck all day and night." Jeremy could only groan an incoherent reply. For five days now Billy had been servicing him, Billy's returning strength only enhancing the man's seemingly endless stamina. "Come on Jeremy," Billy said in between pants, "say yes. We'll leave this place, you and I." "Oh yes," Jeremy said. "Oh yes," he said then cried out in relief when Billy's hand closed around his cock. "I'll do anything, Billy." THREE "You're holding me to a dumb promise I made during an orgasm?" Jeremy asked incredulously. "Yeah I am. You have a problem with that? "No. Of course I have a problem with that! I thought we are just having a one- night stand. Okay, a one-week stand." "You just have a fucked up problem with commitment." Ouch. "Look who's talking! You are the fucked-up person here. You can't even live a normal life. Commitment problem my ass. Excuse me for being not too eager to join you in being a refugee from law." "I said I'll quit." "That's convincing." Billy gave a wounded growl and threw the mug of coffee he was holding across the room. It shattered, causing brown stain to seep across the carpets. "What do you want from me, Jeremy? Just sex? That's it? Fine. Spread your legs. You want this cock? Well, fuck you!" he shouted. He gripped Jeremy's arms and shook him. "I am willing to change my world for you, Jeremy. The least you can do is not to fucking laugh at me!" "I am not laughing at you," Jeremy protested. "I'm -- fuck!" Billy kissed him, hard, until their lips bruised. Then Jeremy pulled him down to the bed, and Billy was merciless in his fucking, driving them both to a furious orgasm. "Touching scene," Molly Hoodkums sneered. "Nothing beats pumping lead into a couple of fags." "How the fuck did you get here?" Billy tossed off the sheets and stood between Jeremy and the man's henchmen. "Get 'em boys. Kill the other fag first. I want Billy to die slowly." Jeremy gave a bored sigh and reached for his belt. "Remind me never to underestimate you again," Billy said, still watching in awe when Jeremy tied a cursing Molly with his two men. "Wow, I mean, with just one belt, against guns and all. It's like a fucking Indiana Jones movie." "Shut up. I'm calling the cops. You have ten minutes to get lost." It dawned on Billy. "You're mad at me." "Why should I?" Jeremy scowled thunderously. "Because you think I've put your life in danger." Billy chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "Because I'm an irresponsible idiot who jeopardizes the safety of the people he care for. Because I'm a reckless idiot?" "Just go away Billy. Please." "For now." Billy had never lost a fight in his life and he didn't intend to start now. FOUR "You're miserable." Ethan shuffled the cards. "I'm not." Jeremy stared at the ceiling. "You're miserable," Jeff said. "Isn't he, Brian?" "Definitely miserable." "I am not miserable!" Silence. Jeremy was stunned at his own outburst. "I'm not miserable," he repeated in a voice that just reeked of misery. "Denial in progress," Ethan remarked. "Actually, I have news of our friend Billy," Brian said when he and Jeremy were alone, trying not to smile at the alacrity of Jeremy's jolt to attention. "He turned himself in to Interpol, with a bloody cunning condition. He would return what's left of his loot and stop his activities, and he would work with Seven -- which is an organization fighting against thief ringleaders by the way. He got a new life without facing a jail term." "Really? Bloody bastard." Jeremy smiled tightly. He wasn't surprised to find Billy in his bedroom that night. "I guess I owe you an apology," he started to say. "Oh yes you did. You don't have faith in me." Billy stood over the bed like an avenging angel. "I suggest you get on your knees and beg for mercy," he said with a nasty grin on his face, casually unzipping his jeans. "Come here." Jeremy was always good at apologizing.