THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Pierre

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

When he was furious, Pierre P'ng was a terrifying sight. He kicked
open the bedroom door of his obnoxious apartment-mate, also his
brother-in-law, and flung the lacy thong at the man on the bed.

Robin Leong didn't evade the missile. He put aside his magazine -
one of tits and silicon, Pierre noticed in disgust - and looked at
Pierre in his most innocent expression. That meant Robin, in
Pierre's eyes, looked just like the boy whose hand was caught in
the cookie jar.

"The only excuse I will accept for this thong in my laundry basket
is that you're now a full-blown crossdresser," Pierre said in a
low, cold voice.

"Hey, relax, man. It's probably some chick's. I picked a few up
while you were away. You don't mind, do you?" Robin asked
pleasantly.

Pierre took a deep, steadying breath. "No, I don't mind that. What
I do mind is my coming home from a long trip in which my flight
was delayed for six hours to find my house a fucking mess."

When Pierre used the f word, Robin knew he was in deep shit. "I
left everything neat and clean." He took a deep sniff of the
thong. "Ah, this is Marcie's thong."

"And I trust that's her blonde hair in my hairbrush as well?"
Pierre asked in a dangerously calm voice.

"Hmm, could be one of the two blondes I brought here." Seeing how
Pierre's face turned an alarming shade of red, Robin quickly said
soothingly, "Look, those chicks thought you have a really great
selection of toiletries, okay? I must say I borrow your amazing
cologne with that unpronounceable French name sometimes, but -
hey!"

Pierre pushed the nearest of Robin's wushu trophies, just on a
shelf near him, down to the floor. He knew full well that Robin's
life was wushu and his trophies, mementos of his greatness, were
the keys to hurting him back.

"You will move out by the end of this week."

Robin's mouth fell open in genuine shock. "What?"

"Out. O-U-T!" Pierre shouted.

Robin threw the sheets off himself. "You're kidding."

Pierre instinctively turned away in self-preservation. He couldn't
deny that Robin had a great body - well-muscled from over twenty
years of vigorous training and fitness regimes for countless wushu
tournaments, and there was that thick, meaty cock cushioned by
heavy ball sac and surrounded by thick black curls. Pierre's
libido sometimes forgot that Robin was his obnoxious apartment-
mate and brother-in-law.

Or to be technically correct, ex-brother-in-law. Robin was married
to Pierre's sister until a year ago. It was a pretty amicable
divorce, where Pierre got this feeling that both people involved
were more relieved than angry that the marriage was over. Rumor
had it that his sister caught Robin in bed with another woman.

It was times like this that Pierre questioned his own sanity for
letting Robin mess up his life. He went to Singapore a week ago to
visit his parents, and came home today to find blonde strands in
his hairbrush, his cologne bottle half-empty (it was full a week
ago), and the toilet-cum-bathroom stinking to high heaven. His
back still ached from jetlag and muscle stiffness, and having to
clean the house in that condition drove him over the brink.

"Come on, be reasonable," Robin said.

Pierre opened his eyes, and swallowed gratefully when he saw that
Robin had pulled on baggy shorts and was now pulling his T-shirt
down his washboard stomach. "I can't take this any more. You'll
move out by the end of this week. I've had it with your slobby
lifestyle, you hear me? Get out!"

"Hey, don't shout at me. I hear you okay." Robin caught hold of
Pierre by the shoulders and turned the man around. "Come on, let's
go to the kitchen where I will make you some hot milk. Then we'll
talk about this, okay?"



Robin looked up from his stirring a hot cup of chocolate milk for
Pierre. Pierre, just like the clean-control freak he was, couldn't
sit still. He was now frying something - eggs, maybe - and Robin's
mouth watered from the smell of what was cooking.

Robin placed the cup of chocolate on the table and went to stand
behind Pierre. He peered over the man's shoulder and frowned.
"Hey, you're frying just one egg. Where's my share?"

"Gee, good question." Pierre flipped the egg like the chef he was
once when he was a teenager. "Maybe you haven't cooked your own
share yet?"

"But you always made me dinner," Robin protested.

Pierre turned and Robin stepped back, in case Pierre decided to go
medieval with that spatula in his hand. "I cook, I wash, I clean,
and I fucking do the laundry," he said furiously. "I have to make
excuses whenever your girlfriends call and you don't want to see
them again, and I have to placate their angry and jealous
boyfriends." Anger expelled, Pierre's shoulders hunched in defeat
now. "I can't take this, Robin. Please, just go, okay?"

"We are good together, yes?" Maybe later Robin would pause to
wonder why he didn't want to leave this apartment, but now he just
refused to move out. The thought of being alone... no, he wouldn't
consider it. "I do my share of the repairs and housework too." Now
he wished he hadn't tried so hard in the past to evade his turn at
chores. "And... and... we watch TV together!"

"I'm not your mother, Robin. I'm too tired, okay? My job is giving
me problems, my bosses are probably thinking of firing me, I am in
tight financial constraints, so I don't need this, okay?"

To Robin's horror, Pierre closed his eyes and bent over the sink.
A tear started to fall down one long-lashed eye, followed by
another. Pierre started to sob in dry, angry heaves. Robin shook
his head, trying to clear his confusion. Pierre, strong if fussy
and inflexible Pierre, crying? "Don't do this, Pierre," he
pleaded. "I'm fucking lousy at comforting people, so don't do
this."

He just ran his hands up and along the slopes of Pierre's
shoulders awkwardly. Pierre chuckled with brittle humor. "Oh yeah,
I know."

"Is it that bad?" Robin asked quietly. "Look, why don't you let me
pay your share of the rent and utility bills first - "

"Have you seen your phone bill?" Pierre asked bluntly.

Robin bit his lower lip. He was just a lifeguard, and he worked
only to pass the time between wushu tournaments. His real job was
training every day in the evening for five hours. "I can sell my
trophies."

Pierre smiled weakly. "Thanks, but I can still pay the bills.
Don't worry about me, okay? I just had a lousy day."

Of which Robin was partially the cause, Robin conceded. He didn't
know what to say to make things better. "Don't make me leave," was
the only thing he could say with absolute certainty, and even if
it made him look like the most selfish fool in the world, he had
to say it. He had to make Pierre see it even if he couldn't see it
himself why he didn't want to leave.

It hit him out of the blue, the solution. A simple, perfect
solution, really. Robin could change. He would be what Pierre
wanted him to be - a responsible, reliable confidante. Not a man
for long-term plans, he was rather taken aback by his enthusiasm
at the idea. Yes, he could do that. He would be Pierre's dream
apartment-mate.

Now all he needed to do was to figure out how to get started.



TWO

One: get home early and clean the house. No, wait, buy groceries
first. Then two: make Pierre dinner. Robin's list was short, but
he realized that shopping wasn't as easy as he expected. He
couldn't tell apart fresh fish from those not-so-fresh in the
Chinatown wet market, he couldn't bargain well in Cantonese, and
he had no idea where to find half the ingredients in that easy
(fuck, hah!) cookbook he bought.

Fine. Now Robin only hoped that Pierre wouldn't notice that the
wrong kind of cleaning solution was used on the floor. Who was he
kidding? Of course Pierre would notice just as he would notice the
now shattered vase (Robin bumped against it while trying to clean
the floor). Pierre had a bloodhound's nose for Robin's mistakes.

Sometimes Pierre was just like the mother he never had. Maybe that
was why he liked Pierre a lot when so many people thought that the
man was just a nervous breakdown waiting to happen. Pierre nagged,
fussed, and yelled at Robin, and well, Robin never had anyone
doing that over him before. Women fell under his spell too easily,
and they indulged him shamelessly, so he had never had them
mothering him before. Only Pierre... well, cared, in Robin's way
of looking at things.

He didn't like living with anyone else but Pierre. This morning,
when Robin went for a job interview, Pierre gave a snort as he
pulled a leaving Robin back into the hall and adjusted Robin's tie
so that the tie looked much more sophisticatedly done. Robin knew
it then: he didn't want to leave Pierre because if he did, he
would be cast back in the world where everything seemed to go his
way.

The problem was, half the time he couldn't think where he wanted
to go. He only wanted fun, wushu victories, and sex - those were
all he had on his priority list. Only Pierre would rein him in and
bring some order to the chaos of his life. And Robin had learned
to like that order very much.

He would not screw this up. He was a fair man, and he would not
just take everything from Pierre and not give anything back.

"Fuck!" He dashed into the kitchen when he saw dark smoke coming
out of the microwave oven. At the same time, he heard the front
door open - Pierre. Sure enough, two seconds later, came Pierre's
furious yell: "Robin!"

Robin couldn't help grinning. Call him crazy, but he liked it when
Pierre yelled at him.



"He ruined my kitchen!" Pierre wailed the next day. "And now my
right leg is broken!"

"I'll pay for the medical," the construction site supervisor Alan
Gelfant said as he wheeled Pierre down the hallway of the
hospital. "You'll be okay."

"It's my fault," Pierre admitted. "I was clumsy to trip over like
that. But Alan, my leg is broken! I want to have Thai food
tonight, and how am I going to have Thai food with a cast on my
leg like this?"

"He didn't hit his head?" Alan asked the doctor discreetly.

The doctor shook her head. "I can give him another check-up," she
suggested.

The hospital doors at the far end were pushed open as a medium-
height square-jawed man dashed towards them. Alan guessed that
this was Pierre's ex-brother-in-law. Just how did those two
disparate weirdos ended up bunking in the same apartment, Alan
never wanted to know.

"Hey, you okay?" Robin got down on one knee and winced at the
sight of Pierre's cast. "I got Alan's call and - "

"Get away from me!" Robin demanded. "I don't want you breaking my
leg any further."

Far from being offended, Robin just chuckled. "Looks like you're
stuck at home. I will have to take leave to take care of you."

Pierre opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and finally
gave up. He just stared at Robin, his face deadly pale from
genuine fear.




THREE

Pierre hated to admit it one week later, but he enjoyed Robin's
brand of care. When the man got down to playing caretaker, he got
down to it with the enthusiasm of a puppy given its first bone.
The man would get down on one knee to remove Pierre's shoes or
trousers, and yeah, that was hell as well as heaven, because
Robin's touch could drive a priest wild.

Robin had rough but gentle hands, Pierre learned to his dismay.
Hands that had probably lured many innocents into their willing
corruption, no doubt, but gentle seductive hands nonetheless.

It became worse at night, when Robin, wearing only a pair of
running shorts, would come to Pierre's bed, freshly bathed, and
arrange Pierre's pillows. All the while he would chat in that
mischievous and irreverant way that was his alone, not seeming to
notice that his nipples often passed within licking distance from
Pierre's mouth. Their thighs touched, rubbed sometimes, and
sometimes their chests too... it was pure torture. Pierre tried
telling Robin that he could take care of himself, but Robin
wouldn't have any of that.

"I won't change my mind about you leaving," he tried to tell
Robin.

"You're such a bitch. I'm just being nice and taking care of my ex-
bro-in-law. You need painkillers, Pierre?"

"No."

"A drink?"

"No."

"A - "

"No!"

"I've never taken care of anybody before, but I'm starting to like
pushing your buttons," Robin said smugly. "Goodnight, Pierre.
Sweet dreams."

"Drop dead, asshole."

Robin chuckled as he closed the door.



Pierre knocked clumsily on Robin's door. He pushed it open
slightly and peered into the shadows. "Robin? You awake?"

"I am now."

Pierre could see the man lifting his upper body to look up at
Pierre.

"Look, I'm sorry I'm such a rude bastard," said Pierre. "I don't
have any excuse, and you are just trying to take care of me. You
don't deserve the shit I give you this week because of my leg. I'm
sorry."

Robin let the silence tick past, and Pierre felt more and more
uncomfortable and guilty, until Robin said gently, "I'm sorry for
what I did to you too. Good night, bro-in-law."

"Good night, Robin." Pierre closed the door and made his way back
to his room, feeling lighter than before.



Robin was horny. Taking care of Pierre was pretty decent now that
Pierre was nicer and sweeter to him, but it crimped his lifestyle
too. He used to have his weekends free for wild stuff, but now he
spent them sitting beside Pierre arguing over what to watch.
Naturally, his movies, all testosterone-charged, made Pierre
nauseous while Pierre's brand of long-winded epic dramas and love
stories put Robin to sleep.

They compromised by watching both their choices each night, and
Robin had to say, he actually got a kick out of watching Pierre
snore, his glasses fallen in an awkward angle as the man sprawled
on the couch, his moustache and small goatee just the picture of
elegant gentleman standards that Robin once envied Pierre for.

Most interesting, he was horny but he couldn't find any desire to
seek out other people.

He had a hard-on for... Pierre?

When it came to sex, Robin never questioned. He just plunged right
in, so to speak. Now, he did question briefly - how did it come
about, he who never gave guys any second look before?

Maybe it was just Pierre, who was nice again and they were now
like the times before Pierre made that trip to Singapore, they
arguing and bickering often but always being there for each other
in small ways. He liked flustering Pierre, and he liked Pierre
bossing over him. Who knows, anal sex with Pierre might be fun.

Robin pondered at that. He had a varied sex life, but he never
actually fucked anybody in the ass before.

Under his growing lust, he soon noticed that Pierre had a very
nice, tight bubble-butt.

Robin also noticed that Pierre looked at him. Not just looks - shy
looks that were averted when Pierre noticed that Robin was looking
back. Shy looks at Robin's crotch, arms, and chest - shy looks
that made Robin's cock harden as hard as rock and even his nipples
stand erect. Maybe they would both get the hot anal fuck they both
wanted.



Robin pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shorts. He gave his
erect cock a few rubs for good luck, pausing at the bathroom door
to spread the slippery drops oozing from his piss slit all over
his wide cock head. His cock had reached tumescence such that his
foreskin was already pulled back to reveal his tip almost back
under the ridge. He pulled it back entirely and pushed open the
bathroom door.

Pierre didn't turn. "I can bathe by myself." At that, his soap
dropped to the floor and with one hand on the towel rail for
support, Pierre slowly bent down to retrieve it.

"Tsk, tsk. Never bend down before a horny man, Pierre," Robin
drawled.

"What?" Pierre gasped when Robin stepped up behind him and that
huge moist tip of his fitted against the muscular ring of his rear
entrance. "R-Robin?"

"Yep, me, Robin." Robin started coring in deep, unable to believe
the incredible tightness of Pierre's anus that almost tore his
foreskin off. Then he pressed Pierre against the wall and started
pumping into the man in deep, slow thrusts.

"Oh fuck, harder, yeah, faster!" Pierre cried. "Fuck, too big...
too... ah!"

That was fast, Robin thought dimly as Pierre convulsed into a
prime orgasm. His own balls rose as the knot of pleasure tightened
at the base of his spine. Then he exploded, blasting millions of
proven-fertile sperm into Pierre's scorched rectum, pushing Pierre
against the wall as he thrust hard and shallow stabs with each
ejaculation.

Yeah, anal sex was great alright. Maybe he ought to do it again to
Pierre just to make sure.



"I'm curious. Why did you fuck me?"

Robin groaned at that question and looked at the other man lying
his head on his chest. "Because we both wanted it," he answered
simply. "Why are you psychoanalyzing this? It was good, right? You
came too with me every time, and I know you are not faking the
orgasms."

"I can't stop worrying!" Pierre exclaimed. "You're a womanizing
bastard who is also irresponsible. You cheated on my sister. You
can't just fuck me like a wild bull and then expect me to wave my
hands and say 'See ya'!"

"'Wild bull', huh?" Robin laughed when Pierre pinched his nipples
in retaliation. "Look, Pierre, I can't read your mind, okay, so
tell me, how do you want this to be? You want us to go steady?"

"Can you?"

"Why not?" Robin asked affably.

"God, you turn my world upside down until I don't know which way
is top anymore. You can make me break down out of exhaustion."
Pierre sighed. "I need to relax. Go do some yoga or something."

"Hey, give me a try," said Robin persuasively. "Gay sex isn't bad.
Maybe I'm bisexual after all." He reached out and touched a drop
of semen on the tip of his cock. "Quite salty but nice," he said,
tasting it. He looked at the mess between Pierre's thighs. "Can
I...?"

Pierre stopped his rant and nodded. "What did you say?" he gasped
when Robin buried his head between Pierre's thighs. Oh, that
tongue...

"This is as good as cunt," came Robin's muffled voice.

"Splendid. Keep eating." Pierre felt Robin's cock tip rubbing
against his cheek, so he turned his head and took that monster
into his mouth.

Robin swore that he couldn't walk straight the next morning.




FOUR

"What's this?" asked Pierre months later when he saw Robin walk in
with a covered tray. "My kitchen?" he asked warily.

"I bought this," Robin answered.

Pierre relaxed. He had been listening to relaxation technique
tapes recently while Robin did the housework. His job sucked, he
was looking for a new job and wasn't sure if he would ever find
one, but hey, he had Robin for support. It was a scary notion, but
Robin wasn't too bad at that. He was slowly becoming better at
communicating outside the bedroom, while Pierre was slowly
exorcising his impatience and excess worrying.

Maybe they would work out after all.

"What's this for?" he asked when Robin lifted the cover to reveal
a roast chicken. Normally, Pierre would cook. Robin was a
horrendous cook.

"My sixth month of fidelity to you," Robin announced cheerfully.
"Never thought I can get this far, but hey, I did, so it's a cause
for celebration."

"But our anniversary is next week," Pierre told him.

"I started wanting you a week earlier, and that's today six months
ago."

"Oh." Pierre looked at the badly cut piece of chicken Robin
cheerfully placed on the plate. He stabbed at the piece, not
wanting to see Robin massacre the rest of the chicken with his
knife. If Robin could cook, he would be perfect.

But Pierre wasn't perfect either.

"Six months," he said. He couldn't believe it either. Surely he
wasn't a fun guy to be around for six months.

"I've had offers," Robin said. "But I'm as good as married now.
You'll see. I'll win a gold medal at the wushu tourney next month
just for you."

Pierre tried to hide his grin, but what the fuck, he didn't try
too hard. "Cheers, my wushu champ."

"And cheers." Robin touched the rim of his glass against that of
Pierre's. "By the way, can we skip the sweet nothings after dinner
and get to the hot fucking? We haven't fucked for two days now,
and I'm kinda having blue balls at the moment. It's your fault,
you're such a hot piece of ass."

Some things would never change, Pierre decided. And thank you for
that, he added in his mind after a brief consideration.
