Date: Mon, 13 Oct 2003 22:36:56 +0800 From: paul sung Subject: The New Year 7 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) 2003 - 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   Thank God Joe had gone off with his friend. Barely ten minutes ago, he had bumped into his old classmate, Kathijah, a bespectacled, serious, sloe-eyed beauty and gone off with a group of his friends. It amused me that a hound dog like him had such a somber-looking friend. But while he'd seen an old friend from the past, I came face to face with a demon I'd hoped to have buried a long time ago. If Leela had been a part of my disreputable past that I'd kept, this was one that I planned to bury so deep no one would ever see it. Not even John. Who am I kidding? Especially not John. It was a part of my life that I actually felt deeply ashamed for. Fortunately however I had good reason to believe that few in the family even suspected the depths of depravity I'd sunk to - and the despicable acts I'd committed in the past. All I'd done in the name of what? Just because I could get away with it? To spite my parents - and my grandfather? To spite myself? Looking back, even I occasionally wondered at my damned foolishness. "You don't come by our parties anymore, James." The forbidding expression on my face would have caused any sane person to step away but emboldened by drink - and whatever cocktail of drugs she'd ingested, Shereen was oblivious. As she leaned closer, I kept my distance, sickened by the memory of her, and by the melange of sickly sweet fragrance and alcohol that wafted to my nose. "Much too busy." "With rehab?" Planting her hand on shoulder, she giggled. "You're turning into such an old man. What happened to the most dangerous man in town, the fastest man around? The man who could outdrink, outgamble anyone?" Gently catching her wrists and keeping her roving hands at bay, I held her away. Although her earlier description of me was undeniably apt, it still didn't stop the hurt from creeping into my voice. "The fool who got into drunken fights and beat bystanders up? The idiot who was stupid enough to deal in smuggled goods and drugs? Sorry, darling, that man took early retirement." "Joe Sung, huh." Following my gaze, she darted her glance around to where Joe stood, laughing with his friends, his face so young, so boyishly handsome. Aiming at my younger cousin with one long garishly pink nail, she smiled. "Well, another handsome Sung brother.. No shortage of those." My tone was level and cordial although I felt anything but civil. "Yes." Her dark eyes turned speculative. "John's younger brother, isn't he? Quite a cutie." As coolly as I could, I nodded but I knew the thoughts turning in her mind. Black sheep and persona non grata I might be but I was still James Burbridge Sung, the old bastard's grandson and that carried some weight. My name - our name - smacked of authority, of position - and of wealth. Although the thought shamed me, there was no denying that the name had proven more than useful to me in the years before and I'd often traded on it. Even with the sanctions placed by my grandfather - and later by John, my name - and the incalculable fortune that stood behind it had gotten me what I thought I needed before. Anything and everything I wanted... drugs, money, girls and also the seemingly carefree, hip crowd that gravitated around me all because of who and what I am. Perhaps I was too stoned, too stupid, too entrenched with my own personal problems to really see them at that time but I'd finally seen behind the slick facade of these false friends and I'll be damned if I would let my younger cousin be dragged into this. Taking a slow sip of the non-alcoholic spritzer I'd ordered, I watched her closely. "Don't even think about it, Shereen." "What, James?" Oblivious to the rage boiling in me, she let out a soft titter of a laugh that grated on my ears making me wonder what I ever saw in her. There was her looks of course, a flashy, showy beauty aided by her clever use of cosmetics but clear-eyed sobriety had revealed the coarse, brittle quality that hung around the edges of her beauty. "You never used to be such a goody-two-shoes. Look, the kid is young, obviously looking for a little fun and games.. and guess what, I'm just the girl to give him all that." A little pill appeared in her hand and I saw red. MTVlike, a dizzying barrage of images ran through my thoughts as I stared at the pill. A small but significant part of me craved that quick, easy rush of divine ecstasy that came with one of those deceptively simple dolls but the other part of me recalled much too easily the string of humiliating disasters that followed. It would have been so easy to submerge all those bitter memories as I did the last time but I couldn't. I gripped her arm and spoke softly. "Don't go near Jonathan. Ever." There was stunned surprise in her eyes but she managed to compose herself enough to let out a shaky laugh. "How melodramatic. Oh, James, come on, you don't really mean that." "Funny." A venomous half-smile crossed my face and I leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. "Darling, that's exactly what Tzu Beng told me before he died." It was late when I finally dragged my cousin home and poured a thoroughly soused Jonathan into his bed. Tousled hair, sleepy-eyed, baby-smooth face, he looked so much younger than me and I prayed he wouldn't have to go through the hell I went through. Earlier, I'd been given a glimpse of what I used to be and it horrified me. Spoilt, wealthy, utterly insensate. I wasn't worried though since he had the benefits that I never had - a steady head upon his shoulders despite that playful, impulsive streak, strong family support - and an elder brother who would keep tabs on him. Although I managed to keep his drinking down to a manageable limit, there was no doubt that he'd still be nursing a hell of a hangover next morning. Used to such painful mornings myself, I shook my head in sympathy and taking my leave of him, trotted down the stairs to the kitchen for a drink. True to my new rules for living, I'd thrust all thoughts of drinking alcohol out of my head. Not that there was any to be had in the house since John maintained a strict no-alcohol policy. It was odd thinking of me refusing temptation when I'd once been the sinful hedonist in the family. The spoilt rebel without a cause. With a half-smile on my lips, I shook my head wondering who would possibly have dreamed that James Burbridge Sung, of all people, would be the designated driver one day. Grandfather would probably have a stroke if he found out and I wondered somberly whether that fact would make me sad or ecstatically happy. Still, it had been hell keeping my eye away from the glasses of alcohol Joe had imbibed but I'd done it successfully and I thought that I deserved a pat on the back. Saying no was almost killing me but the thought of facing up to John - and the thought of falling back into the rut I'd been in before terrified me even more. Seeing Shereen only made me ever more determined to stay sober. Mixing some hot chocolate for myself, I brought out a thick mug and decided to sit myself down to wait for the errant Sung brother. As I passed the grandfather clock in the hallway on the way to the living room, the clock struck 1 in the morning. It amazed me that Mr Responsible had stayed out so late. Sure, Dev would have his own hedonistic Saturday night activities planned till sunrise the next morning but John usually tried to make it home before midnight every time. A regular as clockwork Cinderella, albeit with great guns for arms and a stubbled chin. Placing the thick mug down on the table, on the coaster I'd brought along knowing John's obsession with water rings, I took a slow look round the room. There was no doubt that the home, and this living room belonged to a man. My cousin Joey, the budding designer, might have had a hand with the decorating but the room was still all John. Stark, spartan lines, neat, efficient, no-frills furnishings with cool, muted blues and creams dominating the palette. And yet, here and there were small knick-knacks and figurines that John had collected from his travels abroad. Colourful, squat little Russian matrushkas and small, delicate Japanese geishas with their paper umbrellas, mini replicas of the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben, flamboyant, flashy Venetian masks and fanciful Celtic faeries. Small tokens of fancy that John evidently loved and cherished. I remembered June once saying that his collection of knick-knacks was compensation for a lost youth spent trying hard to catch up with adulthood. That single moment had triggered my rare generosity and I'd gotten a toy for him on impulse. It often made me wonder about the significance of the Legolas doll being on his desk at work instead of at home with the others. A stack of his regularly played CDs sat on top of the antique Chinese medicine cabinet he used to store his collection. Rifling through the set, I smiled recognizing the names. Through the years, the man hadn't changed. While my own tastes were at best eclectic, John had always been a dedicated fan of jazz and swing music. Easing myself down on the plush living room sofa, I closed my eyes, propped up my fee on the low table and conjured up images of my latest obsession. The image of the staid John in a snazzy tux rocking and swaying his hips to Sinatra and Buble had me smiling to myself. And as usual, any thoughts of John Sung immediately had my dormant sex drive revving up. Goaded by the growing hard-on in my jeans, the image started becoming more erotic as the dancing man started stripping off his pristine white shirt, spilling buttons, to reveal his bare chest, golden, sun-kissed skin over the hard swell of his pectorals. The man's pert, firm ass flexed fetchingly under the tailored slacks to the rhythm of the music as he slowly swayed. A pert honk signalled the return of the prodigal son, dragging me out of my pleasurable reverie and I took the few strides that brought me to the front door. The already dripping knob in my pants demanded immediate satisfaction but I was sure John would be all too willing to help. Once the monastery doors had been flung wide, Father John had turned into a surprisingly insatiable sex pig and it couldn't have pleased me more. Flinging open the door in eager anticipation, I looked for him and saw, instead of John's familiar BMW, the sleek, sporty car that belonged to Dev parked at the end of the driveway and wondered if anything was the matter. Two familiar figures emerged from the dark, one obviously inebriated and doing his best not to walk into the gate. "John?" Calling out his name, I heard the one of the duo mumble an assenting grunt. Walking barefoot down the garden to the porch, I flipped on the lights. "Yeah, it's us." The husky baritone was as familiar as John's and one I'd heard often voiced in derision and disparagement. There had been no shortage of that from Dev Roberts whenever Saint John went for one of his mercy missions, especially when it pertained to me. Since I'd moved in, we maintained at best a chilly civility - that bordered on open hostility once John was out of earshot. "Dev." "James, I see you're looking well," he replied quietly, watching me carefully. His dark brown eyes were suspiciously clear despite the alcohol and I couldn't deny that the bastard was good-looking in his own way. What Joe had teased me about earlier came back to me and I wondered whether I should have any reason to be worried. Acknowledging the cool look he gave me, I nodded in return. "I try my best." "Take care of him." With something approaching a twinkle in his eye, Dev gestured behind him to the man tottering up the driveway. "He drank a lil too much. And I kinda helped." As much surprise from the information as from the fact that Dev wasn't busy mouthing insults, I repeated. "He drinks?" "Father John?" Nodding to the man in question, Dev had to smile. Although John managed to walk upright, his steps were as unsteady and shaky as that of a toddler. "Obviously not." "He's going to be pissed." "I'll take my chances," Dev told me in confidence. For a moment, he paused as if unsure how to continue but then he looked up, meeting my gaze steadily. "Burbridge, you've got a good man here. Don't blow this chance." The realization that John had told him rocked me to the core. Although his recent coming-out to Jonathan had been an unqualified resounding success, he still hadn't told anyone else since then. With such a big step, it didn't surprise me that John had taken to drink. "I don't plan to." "Dev, stop razzing the pretty boy and get me in." Finding his way up the driveway, John held himself up on one of the pillars. The grumble from behind had Dev turning around with a grin. "John boy, I think you're already in good hands." "Stop talking about me. I'm woozy not deaf and don't call me John boy," he said in warning. "Still a bitch." Keeping his gaze low, Dev mumbled sotto voce and I laughed. "Asshole." Throwing Dev a light slug that missed a mile, John gave him the nudge to leave. "Go home, Dev. Get someone else drunk." "Yeah, at least I'll be able to get lucky that way." Patting his friend on the back, Dev turned and walked down the porch. He waved goodbye as he left us on the porch. As Dev's car backed down the driveway, John released his hold on the pillar and took a tentative step towards me. "Always nice to have a handsome man at my door." In the relative darkness with only the moonlight and the glow of the porch lamp, I stared at the man who had come to mean so much to me. Cover-model hunk he certainly wasn't, his features were too irregular to fit the typical stereotypes of male beauty and yet he turned me on far more than any other man ever could. Not the handsomest, not the most muscular, not even the best endowed but to me, he was by far the sexiest man I'd ever known. Perhaps it was the intimate knowledge that he wanted me, needed me so desperately that drove me insane. One look at those dark-brown, cocker spaniel eyes and I was hooked with an instant hard-on. As he started weaving sideways, I reached out to grab him. The irony of the situation struck me again. In an unusual turnabout, it seemed that I had been appointed the caretaker of the two drunken Sung brothers. If only Aunt Emma could see her two boys now. Keeping him upright with my grip on his tight arms, I started guiding him towards the door. The inebriated John Sung however had other intentions in mind as his hands reached down to grope me. Just as his adventurous right hand slid under my shirt, I reached down to stop him. "Hey, cool it, cowboy." "You're such a stud." Eyeing me appreciatively, he let out a deep chuckle. With one hand imprisoned under mine, his other hand started creeping up my back. "Great smile. Incredible body. And those eyelashes, yummy!" Trying to hold on to a wriggling octopus was an impossibility as I found out to my dismay. The more I tried to keep his hands still, the more hands he seemed to grow. Fighting off his roving hands reminded me of some of my more unfortunate dates where I'd often had to resort to violent methods to keep them at bay. Freeing himself from my grasp, one of his hands brushed tantalizingly across my tight pectorals, making my aroused nipples stand at attention as he gave them a passing twist, even as the other hand blazed a trail down the curve of my spine. I let out a nervous yelp as his hands groped the firm globes of my ass. "John, what the hell." His grin could be termed lascivious on any other man but him. "Hot ass." "How much did you drink? I can't believe you're drunk." It was such a wild notion imagining John getting drunk that I had to smile. The last time I got him thoroughly drunk was just after his graduation and then I got him laughing and blurting out all sorts of inane stories to me about med school. It was the last time Soho would see a Energizer-charged dancing queen like him. "Not really. Just a slight buzz." he replied seriously. His beautiful eyes were blurred and slightly unfocused as he smiled foolishly. "Enough to be wild with ya, hot stuff." Catching me before I could shove him away, he kissed me. Ever since I'd had my first kiss in kindergarten, I'd loved kissing and it was almost a point of pride to me that I did it well. For all his inexperience though, John seemed to have a canny knack for kissing. The sex maniac was back and his lips crushed against mine even as he thrusted the hot muscle of his tongue into my mouth. I could feel the taste and strength of him, the burn from his unshaven chin, the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with his musky sweat. As his hands reached up to my face to pull me close, I moaned into John's mouth as he edged his hard thigh between mine and backed me up against the wall. I could spend all day with his tongue down my throat but I reluctantly pulled away. Sliding away from his kiss, I held out my hand between us. "Oh yeah, I can just see tomorrow's hangover." The kiss had left him even more shaken and his dark eyes were unfocused. "You'll take care of me, won't you?" Running the back of my hand lightly across his cheek, I nodded. "Yeah, you know I will." Catching my hand in his own, he brought my hand up to his lips and bit down gently on my knuckles. His smile could almost be described as wolfish as he whispered. "And the wanton, uninhibited sex we'll have will probably blunt off some of the ill effects." "Down, boy," I admonished him as I slapped his hands away. Imprisoning his roving hands in mine, I brought them forcibly down to his sides even as he struggled half-heartedly and held him close. The heat of his body was tantalizing, as was the warm, musky scent that I always associated with him - although now liberally doused in alcohol. His dark eyes were blurry now and lit with the familiar glow of desire. It would be so easy to give in, shove my lips hard against his soft, pouty lips and drag him down with me to the floor. Amazingly though I realized that I had managed to collect some scruples along the way. No doubt my therapists would call it a definite breakthrough. "I doubt you can even get it up, Johnny boy. It's already amazing that you can still stand with the amount of booze you probably have on you." "You got any doubts, Jamie?" Whispering the last of his words, John half-smirked as he pressed himself full frontal against me, the firm, pulsing rod of his cock signalling his intentions, his hard, well-muscled thigh inching their way between mine. Obviously he hadn't taken enough to numb his sex drive. Feeling his warm, hard body pressed against mine so intimately caused my juices to churn and rise but I restrained myself and nudged him away. "John. Stop." Seeing the stern look on my face had him laughing instead as he reluctantly backed away. "Such a good boy, Jamie." "I don't take advantage of drunk men." Catching hold of his well-muscled arm before he could topple over the edge of the porch, I managed to guide him through the front door. As if to prove my point, he weaved a moment at the front door before propping himself up with his hand on the doorway. "Wow, did the earth move or what?" Holding himself up at the door, John made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Turning to face me, he looked adorably confused as he tried to explain his actions to me. "Look, I didn't plan to though. Get drunk, I mean. But I told everything to Dev, you know, being a faggot and all, and he made a toast to me.. again and again .. and again. My car's still there, I think." "I should hope so." Responsible little John would not have driven in such a state. Even now I could still recall his favorite topic of lecture when it came to me, which was driving under the influence. "Oh my God." As if the thought had suddenly occurred to him, he looked up at me, his handsome face a picture of guilt and remorse. Running his hand slowly over his eyes, he shook his head. "Oh my God, I shouldn't be drinking in front of you. It totally slipped my mind. What kind of example.." "Trust you to come up with that." I laughed as I thought how typical it was of him to think in that direction. "John, relax. I am not going to fall off the wagon just yet." He turned to me with a scowl. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this.." "John. It's not a problem. It's okay." Reassuring him was the easy part, it was more difficult getting him through the door. As he walked in with his shoes on, I had to smile. No doubt he'd be livid tomorrow wondering which bastard had made those tracks on his pristine marble floor. And then he'd turn his anger on me for allowing him to do so. Right before rushing into the storeroom to get the mop and bucket. Predictable bastard. Guiding him slowly into the living room, I gave him a hard shove toward the sofa. "Take a seat, tough guy." "Tough is right," he mumbled softly in reply as he fell back onto the sofa. "Tough being an example all the time." It was something that had nagged him since Aunt Mary had spilled the beans on him. Knowing precisely which nerve would hurt the most, the ungrateful bitch had accused John of turning into our grandfather. When the rest of us had corroborated, that had terrified John. No doubt John loved the old man since he was the apple of the Old Man Sung's eye but the rest of us thought of him as an omnipotent, omniscient cantankerous old meddler. "I know. What a burden you carry being so perfect all the time," I said sardonically. "So smart, so good, so kind. Oh, woe is me." From the sofa, he eyed me balefully, his eyes narrowed slits on his handsome face. "I sense I should punch you for that but I am just too happy." "A little too happy." Taking a seat on the coffee table, I cocked my head to the side. "Come on, let's get you into bed." "Ooh, but I am a good boy, Mr Burbridge. I don't do those kinda dirty stuff." John replied in an innocent, little-boy voice, giving me a wide-eyed look. The alcohol was definitely wreaking havoc with his brains and I half-wished I had a camcorder right now to record this. Imagine what the family would think of him now. The upright Zhan Zhao of the family falling off the straight and narrow into some weird, psychotic deep end. Enough prodding - and a little more beer and I could probably have him dancing to I Will Survive. "You're definitely in a weird mood. Now take off your shoes." Peering up at me through his thick, dark lashes, he smiled meaningfully. "Only my shoes, Mr Burbridge?" "Shut up." As I reached down to tug his feet into my lap, I noticed him giving me a suggestive wink that I tried my best to disregard. Being drunk obviously loosened the screws in his brain - and all his inhibitions. "I never realized that you were so obsessed with sex till now." The statement made him laugh. "Stud, I have always been obsessed with sex. You just never noticed." "I am starting to believe that." I smiled and half-nodded to him as I started on his shoes. Although he might not be a clotheshorse like me, there was no doubt that the man had some excellent shoes. Italian leather half-boots, supple, smooth and stylish. "You're so good to me," he said in a surprised tone as I unlaced his shoes. Managing to tug his shoes off, I clipped them together in one hand and brought them over to the shoe cabinet wedged behind the main door. As I turned back to the living room, I saw the man standing over at the stereo, fiddling with the machine. Bent over, his excellent butt was in my sights and I took my time admiring what he kept hidden in those slacks. As my fevered imagination drew the slacks down along with the sleek briefs he wore under them, I wondered whether Grace knew that her boss had one seriously tight, humpy ass. Sensing my admiring gaze, he glanced around quickly and flashed me a smile. "Come dance with me, gorgeous." Taking a step forward, I reached down to the table and picked up the cup I'd left there earlier. John stood at the edge of the room, tall and handsome, quirking a finger at me in invitation. Enjoying the excellent view I had, I took a fortifying sip of the chocolate. "You're really complimentary when you're drunk." "Buzzed. Not stinkin drunk." Sidling over to where I stood, he somehow managed to get the remote in hand and turned on the stereo. "And come over here, you sexy hunk of meat." The music was smooth and mellow, something I expected from him. Jazzy sax, the trill of the piano and a deep baritone extolling the virtues of Kissing a Fool. A man with ink-black hair, dark brown, cocker spaniel eyes and a welcoming smile with his hand held out. It was an invitation that I couldn't refuse and I walked straight into his held out arms. With a triumphant smile, he pulled me close and his muscular arms went around me. Resting my head on his broad shoulder, I sighed. "This is nice." Running a hand down my back, he couldn't resist adding, "Almost as good as sex." "John." Meeting his gaze, I looked at him sternly. "Don't spoil this." He let out a warm, silly laugh. "You don't know how hard it is trying to keep my hands off you." "Just shut up and hold me." Giving him a quick nip on his lips to shut him up, I started running my hands up his back to rest on his nape, playing with his straight black hair. "Our first dance, John." His deep voice was a soft murmur. "I know. I've always dreamed of dancing with the man I loved." "Dreaming.... what did you say?" Stumbling at his words, I tugged away from his embrace and shook my head in astonishment. It was only last Chinese New Year that I'd stumbled onto his darkest secret and exposed him for the fraud that he was. In return, I'd finally confessed my own secret to him. It was difficult keeping my feelings in check even then, I lived every day with the man, trying to keep cool and nonchalant while all the time, I had to literally fight to keep from pulling him into my arms. His reaction to my confession had been memorable and even now, I could see the utter shock in his face, the absolute horror written all over. Even then, I knew that John Sung would be a tough nut to crack. For the first time, I made plans, laid out careful battle plans and strategies to conquer this man's heart. It was all beautifully thought out and I hoped to achieve my goal by Christmas. It certainly hadn't occurred to me that the white flag would be flying up on the ramparts so soon. "What?" Ever obliging, he repeated what he'd just said. "I've always dreamed of dancing with the man I loved." "Loved?" There was no hesitation in his answer. "Yes." "No doubt it's the alcohol speaking," I stated with a teasing laugh. Hot hands groping and wet kisses aside, this was by far more effective and his words set my heart beating at doubletime. He held my gaze coolly. "I'm not that drunk, James. I love you." With th amount of alcohol he'd taken, I couldn't be sure. Experience told me that the right stimulation would probably have him confessing love for a postbox. Still unsure about his mental processes, I tried again, "The L word? Me?" "Yeah, you bastard." John narrowed his gaze as he poked my chest with his finger. "Somehow, you managed to somehow slither inside my heart when my back was turned." The disgruntled tone in his voice was just typical of him. Lifting my hand to gently tap him on the cheek, I grinned at him. "Oh yeah, there's the old nasty John." "But a bastard that I love," he amended. Taking my hand in his, he interlocked his fingers in mine. Trying to pull my hand away from his only made him tug it close. Fighing John Sung over something he wanted only made him more determined to keep it, damned dog in the manger. The mutinous look on his face only made me smile. "You're nice when you're drunk.. I mean, buzzed. We should keep you this way." He snorted. "You wish." Pulling him close again, I started moving again to the rhythm of the music. "You're not that bad a dancer, John. Perhaps we should try a club next time." "Catch me dead shaking my booty on the dancefloor." "Nice booty though," I commented. "I could get you drunk first." He shook his dark head and laughed. "It is not happening again." "Nice to see you drunk though. Shows you're not really the robot you're rumoured to be," I commented dryly. The last time John had stepped in to meddle in one of my relative's affairs, there had been a terrible misunderstanding. It wasn't surprising since Aunt Mary had never been the spirit of tact and diplomacy, wrangling publicly had always been her undisputed forte. After her accusation that John was becoming a clone of our grandfather, the matter had remained, haunting his thoughts. Since she had inadvertently brought up the issue, it had been a sore point for him but needling him about it seemed to be my hobby. "That again." John grumbled in complaint. "I think you of all people should know that I'm only a man." "Yeah. Only a man." My man, I thought to myself with a smile.