THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Wesley

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

ONE

In the heart of the charity scene of New York and beyond was a man
named Tobey Maguire. If that name sounded familiar, that was
because Tobey - actually, Tobias Vincent Maguire, was the eldest
(estranged) son of Senator Vincent Maguire, a man well-known for
his unpopular views on gay rights, guns, and Catholicism. And
since Tobey was gay - he wasn't even bisexual, much to his
father's utmost disappointment, it was agreed by both parties that
Tobey would move out and carve out his own niche.

Wes Bentley clutched his battered bag that housed all his
possessions and stood looking up at the sign that welcomed the
stray and homeless to St Francis' Home. Tobey Maguire was one of
the patrons of this shelter, one of his many pet causes, and it
was imperative that Wes find Tobey.

All the easier for Wes to destroy him, of course.

Wes didn't believe in destiny, he didn't believe in God, but at
that moment when Tobey Maguire descended from the stairs, Wes was
tempted to laugh. "Mr Maguire," he said.

"Hello." To his credit, Tobey stopped and looked at Wes. He just
looked at Wes and the bag in Wes' hand and snapped his fingers
towards the door. "Feel free to make yourself at home. Tell
Charles I send you."

With that, the man walked past Wes and climbed into his fancy
Jaguar.

Wes never had a car, much less a Jaguar. He had seen Tobey's Rolex
watch on the man's right wrist - so, Tobey was left-handed - and
the expensive shirt that looked as if it came from a fancy
catalogue. He felt his fingers involuntarily tightened around the
handle of his suitcase.



"Bentley. Wesley Cook Bentley," Tobey said, tapping the papers of
the new arrival on his table. "Where have I heard that name
before?"

Jeff Timmons, suave, childish, and favorite son of his family,
snorted. It was his sole unbecoming habit in a man too boyishly
handsome for his own good. "David Bentley, the man your father
evicted from that new building last year? He raised quite a fuss,
lost the lawsuit, and promptly got shot when the drunk bugger
tried to break into the building soon after?"

"Ah yes. And now the only surviving Bentley has taken refuge here.
Small world." And maybe a chance to right his father's wrong.

"Oh no," Jeff said.

"What?"

"You got that look on your face. That one that says you're
thinking of making some sort amends for this man." Jeff shook his
head. "You're already earning million of brownie points in heaven
to make up for being gay." He gestured at the office. "You're
involved in every bloody charity and organization. You can't save
the world, Tobey."

"But I can save this man." Tobey smiled. "Besides, I like doing
charity work. And tell me you never feel guilty living in so much
wealth while others have to starve on the streets."

"I pay my taxes, don't I?" Jeff replied. "And I'm not going to
change your mind, am I not?"

"No, not likely. Besides, I have a selfish reason for this." Tobey
stood up and walked to the window overlooking the children's
playground. He actually loved watching the children play, as much
as it irritated him to admit it (for doing so would mean that his
friends' teasing of his saintly nature might not be far from the
truth). "Have you seen that man?"

"Scary. He looks like he eats grandmothers for breakfast. I bet if
I persuade Nick to dig up the files, we can find lots of criminal
misdemeanors we can pin on him."

"That's unfair," Tobey said automatically. Although he had to
admit that the man's air of tightly controlled wildness was what
made him stop at his tracks. He could barely get out of Wes'
presence fast enough before he degenerate into a babbling idiot.
The man was darkness personified. Actually Wes had nothing
remotely resembling conventional beauty on the surface. His face
was almost nondescript apart from a set of dimples that made him
look like the devil incarnate - tempting, seductive, and pure
mischief.

But it was the stark air of barely restrained violence in Wes that
drew Tobey like a moth to a flame. That and the quiet strength and
power radiating from Wes' slim frame.

Tobey had never felt this drawn to a man before. Maybe this was
why people cruise the streets for danger and thrill.

"Don't, Tobey," Jeff warned.

"What?" Tobey said, amusement creeping into his voice.

"I know what you're thinking. You're not going to play with fire."

"I won't." He was lying, of course, but that was the good about
people assuming he incapable of lying. He could get away with it
so easily.



TWO

It was one thing to want to seduce a man, but Tobey had no idea
how to start on it. He had never seduced anyone before, not
intentionally anyway. He knew he was attractive enough to people,
and he had no problem getting laid (although it had been a while
since he had any), but when it came to Wes, he was stuck.

It was only two days later when he looked up and saw Wes at the
doorway of his office. "Hi," he said, and then wanted to hit his
head against his desk hard. Of all the inane things one could say.

"You want to see me?" Wes said gruffly. He was in simple white T-
shirt of red and blue that only made him look sinister in his
darkness. Dark hair, dark eyes, and probably a dark soul -- the
latter sent a shiver of excitement up Tobey's spine. Just of
thought of all the barely suppressed violence under him, legs
spread open for his cock, made him hard enough to burst through
his pants.

Tobey realized Wes was looking at him blankly.

"What?" he said.

"You want to see me?"

"Yes." Tobey swallowed. Hell, he seemed to have lost all his usual
diplomacy. "I know about your father."

Wes' slight tightening of his jaw was the only sign of emotion.
"Yeah, so?"

"I'm not siding with my father on this, He's an asshole, and a not-
too-bright one." Tobey smiled tightly. "I'm sorry. If there's a
way I can make your life better."

"They call you Bullfrog," Wes interjected.

"Yeah." The kids called him that on the account of his slightly
bulgy eyes and his wide, flat grin.

"And you do look like one."

"Should I be insulted?" Tobey said, then sucked his breath when
Wes closed the office door behind him.

He couldn't breath, not when Wes touched his cheek with his right
hand. The contact burned, sending warm searing fire all over
Tobey's senses down to his groin.

Then it was gone. Wes stood back, smiling knowingly, and Tobey
wanted to hit back at him for making them both realize how
vulnerable he was to Wes.

"There's nothing you can do for me." Wes' grin was pure evil, and
Tobey's cock, damn that treacherous organ, only stiffened more at
that sight. "But I'm sure there are something I can do for you."

Wes stood up and calmly lifted his shirt off his head, revealing a
slim but tightly muscled body. Nothing special, really, but Tobey
was mesmerized. By Wes' eyes and demonic face and pure, pure
sexual magnetism he radiated. Wes calmly unclasped his jeans and
undid one button. Two. Until Tobey could see the pale skin of Wes'
groin and the start of thick dark bush of pubic hair.

"You only have to come to my door," Wes said, fastening his jeans.

Tobey blinked, his lips slightly parted in hunger. "No, I won't,"
he said defiantly. "Not like this. I won't play your games."

"Your loss then." Wes shrugged, pulling his shirt down his body.
"I guess we have nothing more to say to each other."



"Oh yes there is," Tobey said half an hour later, pushing open the
dorm door. Wes was alone, the others having left for the dining
hall earlier. "Come with me, we're going to dinner."

"In the hall? Lowering yourself a little, aren't you?" Wes
sneered.

He wasn't prepared for Tobey roughly pulling him off the bed to
his feet. Christ, the man was stronger than he looked. The
deceptively rangy arms steadied him when he stumbled. "No," Tobey
said, "we're going dinner at a friend's place. Where're your best
clothes?"



He just wanted to seduce the man; he knew he could do it, for
Tobey had been watching him for days when he thought Wes wasn't
looking. And nothing would be better than to have Tobey under his
sexual control. He was sure St Tobey would come to him at night
for some quick fumbling fucks in the toilet or something.

Yet he found himself sitting in a posh apartment, feeling awkward,
out of place, and outclassed at the dining table. Tobey's friend
Greg was in the kitchen with Tobey, and both of them shared a love
for cooking which they were demonstrating with loud sounds of
cooking utensil clinking and clanking and smells of something
mouth watering. Greg's boyfriend Kevin was watching him silently.

"You're not a very talkative man, are you?" Wes told Kevin, who
was tall, dark, and handsome, with a small goatee on the chin.

"Yeah." Kevin returned to his newspaper. Then he looked at Tobey
again. "I recognize a con when I see one. Hurt that man and I will
break your balls."

"Scary," Wes sneered. He could just walk out now. He ought to. The
man cooking inside was the son of the man who might as well shot
his idiot father. He would, if he hadn't so much at stake here. He
was running out of time.

"Here we go," Tobey announced, carrying a hot, steaming tray of
chicken meat, and Wes forgot what he was thinking.

Trust Tobey to find his one weak point, he thought, two hours
later, still feeling full from the most delicious meal he had ever
had. If the man cooked like this, Wes would be most tempted to do
anything Tobey asked. He found himself standing at a pool table,
watching several of Tobey's friends play pool and talking in a
camaraderie that defied his comprehension. Surely the heated rush
of anger when he saw Tobey lean over and whisper something in a
man called Stephen's ears wasn't jealousy. He wasn't jealous. Not
when the lethally handsome man called Antonio put his arm around
Tobey.

No. He was definitely not feeling anything.

He felt lost and disoriented, however. They shouldn't be treating
him like this. He felt dirty, as if he was betraying his father,
by standing here and drinking their beer and. he bit back rising
nausea. He had to get out of here.



THREE

Shit. Wes woke up to morning light streaming in his eyes. What -
where - hell, where the fuck was he?

He was in a silent and white bedroom. The bed he was on was
softest of velvet. And he wasn't alone. He turned, and saw Tobey
asleep beside him. They were both clothed, and Wes saw no sign of
fucking done between them. Not sure whether to be disappointed or
glad, he turned to look around him.

There was a small framed photo of Tobey and a young woman. This
had to be Tobey's place. Why the hell was he here?

Oh yeah, last night. He had fled the pool club to the opposite bar
where he'd drunk himself stupid.

Tobey stirred, and Wes shut his eyes.

"Wes?" he heard the man whisper.

A gentle hand touched his ear, so brief yet tender that it was
like a prayer's kiss. Then Wes felt Tobey get off the bed. He shit
his eyes tight, not moving, until he heard a curtain being pulled
across a bar and water raining from a showerhead.

He remembered last night, surprising, considering how drunk he had
become. Even now he was feeling some slight hangover despite his
ability to hold as much liquor as he wanted to. Or maybe the
headache was from recalling how he had collapsed in Tobey's arms
and wept.

"Nobody loves me," he had said. Stupid.

"I can love you," Tobey had said simply.

"I'm an evil bastard," Wes said.

"I know."

He had begged Tobey for a kiss to help him forget. Wes ran his
hand along his right cheek, remembering the soft kiss and the way
Tobey held him as he wept like a baby until sleep got the better
of him. Tobey had said he could love Wes. Not exactly that he
loved Wes, but for some reason, it was enough to make him feel
some strange lightness in his heart.

He could lie on this bed and wait until Tobey come back. What
would he have to pay to lie here, in Tobey's arms? What would he
give to sleep here beside him?

Wes groaned softly as his headache worsened. He never actually
hated Tobey, okay, maybe a little, but he had little love for his
father really. His father beat him bad, was a mean drunk, and Wes
was away in jail two states away when the man died in his final
stupid drunk act.

He could let go of the past. He could worry about the fix he was
in, but for now, he was intrigued by this new possibility of Tobey
loving him. He had seen people in love on TV, and heck, he
wouldn't mind having Tobey love him like the man loved those
strays in his orphanages and homeless shelters.

He pulled his shirt off and rubbed his chest with it, walking into
the kitchen for a hot drink. Hell, the whole place was wide and
spacious, an illusion greatly enforced by sparse furnishing. Tobey
might have been estranged from his wealthy family, but obviously
the trust fund his grandfather left him was being put to good use.

Wes heard Tobey humming in the shower. Nice. He wandered around
the house, coffee in hand, and carelessly rifled through some
papers on the living room table. He froze. In his hands were
reports from a PI detailing Wes' various and colorful criminal
records.

Obviously Tobey wasn't as guileless as his friendly mien
indicated.

He couldn't understand the desperation that seized him, however.
He didn't need Tobey, he told himself savagely even as he started
pacing faster and faster towards the shower. He didn't need the
man, he insisted even as he ripped at the fastenings of his jeans.
No, Tobey was insignificant - Wes never needed anyone and never
will.

He tested the door. Locked. No problem. Wes reached for the
ornamental knife at the wall, callously pulled it from its stand,
and broke the latch in one smooth thrust.

"Tobey," he called, his voice roughened by rising need and
desperation. Don't throw me away, he wanted to call, much to his
disgust. "Tobey," he could only say.

He saw Tobey turn from his drying of his hair. Wes just pushed him
to the wall so that Tobey's had his hands splayed against the cold
mosaic. He reached down and roughly grabbed Tobey's cock, feeling
the thickly-veined shaft in his slightly trembling fingers.

He would make Tobey love him. At that moment, that was all that
mattered.

He buried his face in Tobey's shoulder, sinking his teeth gently
into the man's supple skin, drawing a soft gasp from Tobey. His
tongue slowly traced the collarbone, even as his left hand slowly
masturbated that man, running his fingers up that increasingly
hard cock to rub his thumb gently at the fast-moistening slit
before moving back down. His right hand reached down to play at
the heavy balls, feeling the testicles in their sacs and pulling
gently at the thick hair of Tobey's anus.

Tobey was breathing raggedly now, his hips thrusting in rhythm
with Wes' jerking of his cock. Wes slowly slipped one leg between
Tobey's thighs. The man sensed Wes' cock pressing at him, and
willingly spread his legs wider.

Wes gave a shuddering cry as his cock pushed up Tobey's tight,
barely ready asshole. He felt Tobey's body spasm as his cock
forced his way up the man's heated anus. It was so tight, the
thick muscular walls gripping his sensitive shaft like a vise,
that he almost went mad at the maddening pleasure of it.

One thrust, two, then he was gritting his teeth as his semen burst
forth from his cock, gushing up Tobey's body in abject worship.
Tobey too gave a cry of relief as his cock jumped in Wes' dextrous
grip, spraying his own chest and the wall with his rich hot
ejaculate.

Wes licked the man's juices, greedily tasting Tobey's skin and the
salty rich taste of the man's semen. He even licked the wall as
Tobey banged him from behind hard. As he shut his eyes as pleasure
beyond pleasure wrecked through him, he could only hope that it
was enough for Tobey to keep him.


FOUR

"Coffee?" Wes placed a mug on the table.

He watched Tobey in his robe reading a newspaper somewhat
tentatively. Hell, was Tobey thinking of dumping him now? He
looked at the report of his criminal past. For once, Wes wished he
had the power to change the past.

Funny how the tables had turned.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" he asked.

"Huh? Sorry, I was thinking." Tobey smiled sheepishly. "I'm just
wondering if you'll respect me now that you've had your way with
me."

Wes wanted to laugh. If only Tobey knew how much power he held
over Wes. "I respect you," he said honestly, even when he knew he
didn't have to. "I respect you for being such a fucking saint and
irritating me with your fucking Mother Theresa act." That felt
good. "In fact. I demand that you make good your promise to make
my life better."

"How do I do that?"

"Love me." It came out easier than Wes thought. "Please."

Tobey grinned. "That's all?"

Wes nodded. Damn, this room was dusty. His eyes felt wet.

"I'll try." Tobey reached out and clasped Wes' hand in his.



FIVE

"I won't do it. Look, I'll pay back the fifteen thousand dollars."
Wes tried hard not to lose control.

Vincent Maguire looked at him in disdain. "They told me you were
the best. No matter. Keep the money."

"What do you mean?" Wes asked. Big mistake. His exposure of his
ignorance put him in Vincent's mercy.

Wes saw the look in Vincent's eyes, and knew. "You've had photos.
You sent someone to spy on me and took the pictures without me
knowing."

"Never can depend on you people," Vincent said mildly. "Now get
out. I have things to do."

"No."

"No?" Vincent's voice hardened.

"No." Wes stood up and calmly placed a gun on Vincent's head.
"Give me the pictures."

"Are you out of your mind?" Vincent sputtered.

"I have no future, I have a past I am not too proud of. If your
son knows that I am paid by you to seduce him and have pictures of
us published in a porn mag, I doubt he would want me anymore. I
have nothing to live for and everything to gain if I pull the
trigger, Mr Maguire." Wes' lips arched upwards. "Think about it. I
have nothing to lose in shooting you now."



Tobey was waiting for him in the Home. "Where have you been?" he
said, looking up from his paperwork.

"Lunch." Wes placed the food on the table. "Did I tell you how
much I love you today?"

"You went and see my father, didn't you?"

Wes didn't blink. "Yes I did. You knew?"

"Yeah, I know. It was a good plan, though. Blame his opponent for
blackmailing him, a poor martyred father who only wants to protect
his gay son. Great PR notion." Tobey shrugged. "I always wanted to
be on a porn mag."

"How did you know?" Wes asked.

Tobey looked at his notes, hiding a smile.

"How did you know?" Wes asked, his voice rising. "I put a gun at
your father's head for this," he said, throwing the roll of sun-
exposed negatives at Tobey. "You owe me an explanation."

"No I don't."

Wes shut the office door. "I'll make you tell me," he growled,
looking like an enraged demon.

My enraged demon, Tobey thought happily. "You can try."
