THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Milo

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

He wanted to shoot the messenger. Gabriel Postlewaith Hogan pushed
his hands deep into his coat pockets as he scowled at the wrongly
delivered parcel in his hand. "Bloody bastard," he muttered, his
voice a mix of London/Ontario accent as he had lived in both
places. Somewhere out there a Gabriel Cade was probably staring at
a Bangles Greatest Hits CD he never ordered. Well, this Gabriel
Hogan was gaping at a book all about the mating habits of
primates. He'd thumbed through it, and it wasn't very reassuring
that he had dated guys that behaved worse than apparently male
gorillas did according to this book when they were in heat.

Then again, he thought with a sad, silent sigh, as he always did
when his thoughts turned to his sorry love life, most of them
didn't even seem to be in heat either.

He'd let himself go a little, he thought, as he tapped his tummy.
Then again, he had very little inclination to keep fit in the
recent few months that had him moving here for a change of
scenery.

Oh well, he thought, reverting to his old habit of letting life
past him by. He didn't fight fate, he tended to bend a little and
adapt to what life brought him. Death, birth, failures - que serra
serra, what fucking ever. Gabe stopped trying to fight destiny
long ago. In this same vein, he put aside the book and made a note
to get another CD sent to him later today.

He checked himself at the mirror before he left. At six foot four,
he was tall, but his light brown (not quite blond, but light
enough) hair and boyish face made it difficult for him to command
attention. He looked shorter than he was, more bumbling and goofy
than he'd liked, and people thought he was always their big
brother, never lover.

Still, when life gave him lemon, he made lemonades.

Whistling, he proceeded to crumble and destroy whatever business
empire his secretary had noted on his schedule. Sometimes being in
the acquisition business can be quite tedious. Que serra serra.



Milo Anthony Ventimiglia ran all the way up five stories, hoping
he'd catch in time the man responsible for the final and complete
destruction of so many business ventures. He only realized his
mistake when the nice Gabriel Cade, who was in a hurry to get to
someplace, judging from the huge luggage bags he was trying to
dump onto a cab, pointed it out before asking Milo to leave the
correct parcel with the neighbor.

He turned around the corner, and fell crashing onto a heavier man.
He went falling and cursed when his face fell straight onto a
rounded belly - rounded but hard (pure muscle, he thought
absently).

"Get off me, please?" came a pleasant voice, tinged with what
seems like a more exotic British accent.

Milo grimaced to himself when he realized that he might have run
down Gabriel Hogan himself. He looked up and promptly forgot
everything as he drowned into eyes of emerald so vivid that he was
mesmerized. And he was as mesmerized with the openness of the
man's boyish face that seemed always on the verge of breaking into
a smile, a face that wasn't handsome as much as it was warm and
open.

"It's nice to meet you," he said before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," the man just said. He couldn't be Gabe Hogan, not this man
with the sweetest face ever, surely! "You're the delivery guy,
right?"

With regret, Milo helped the other man to his feet. "Yeah. I'm
looking for Mr Hogan..."

"Ah, that's me. Where's my CD pack? Follow me to my office and
I'll hand you the parcel meant for the other Gabe. I sort of
opened it before I realized my mistake, so I've asked my secretary
to wrap it once more," the man said as he dusted his expensive-
looking suit. "I'll write a note of apology to this Gabe Cade,
explaining this error, and you can have my vouch if he gets mad
over the opened package. You want coffee?"

That man was Gabe Hogan, the man who had happily dismantled six
companies in the recent months and happily auctioned off the
wastes for profit? This was the man that struck fear and hatred in
the man of so many businessmen affected by the economic downturn -
the man who was identified as a vulture come to pick the carrions
clean? Not that Milo was sympathetic to Gabe's detractors: no one
asked these bankrupt men to take loans from the financial firm
Gabe was affiliated with, and it was Gabe's duty to repossess and
offer to buy these bankrupt's luxury assets when they couldn't pay
up their loans. Gabe was just their natural target, fair or not.

But this man was Gabe? In the brief moment they talked, Milo
thought he was in the company of the kindest, friendliest man he'd
ever met. Gabe greeted his secretary with a smile and cracked a
joke that made her laugh, and he opened the door for Milo, as if
Milo was his business client rather than a mere delivery boy.

"Milo, am I right?" Gabe asked, actually beginning to make coffee
at the corner of his office where a coffeemaker and jars and
containers of coffee powder, cream, and a water heater could be
found.

"Milo Ventimiglia," Milo offered. He pulled out this Gabe's parcel
from the inside jacket pocket of his. "I'll just take the coffee
and be on way," he said reluctantly.

Most small business firms that did not hire office boys for
economical reasons were Milo's clients, and Milo often traveled
from banks to offices and back again as he delivered and collected
documents for his clients for five dollars a trip. It wasn't bad -
he made around a hundred bucks on a good day, and up to two
hundred on a busy day, and he supplemented the rest of his income
with a bartending stint at weekends when offices and banks were
closed. The money all went to his night classes and his younger
brother's tuition fees, with very little left for himself, but
he'd manage.

Gabe worked for a multi-million dollar international firm, but he
would never hire Milo under any circumstances. Brosnan
Acquisitions had no doubt enough delivery boys to form a fleet. It
was the record store downtown that called Milo when its own
delivery boy was stricken with measles.

"Yeah," Milo said, looking around him before turning his attention
back to Gabe. Gabe wasn't his usual type, but the man was very
beautiful to look at, Milo realized. The man seemed incapable of
lies or malice, and for a man who had spent a better part of his
life in slums and juvenile detention centers, Milo found Gabe an
irresistible conundrum.

Gabe just smiled, and Milo felt as if his world had taken a
strange, surreal turn, and he was now somewhere in a bizarre
alternate universe where people like Gabe were kind to people like
him. A man who would vouch for a delivery boy - a man who actually
thought of Milo's possible troubles when he delivered an opened
parcel to Gabe Cade - was one Milo had never encountered before.

Again, he wondered - this was a man they likened to a ruthless
carrion vulture?

"The office close usually at six the latest," Gabe said. "Want to
join me for dinner tonight? We can meet downstairs at the entrance
at six and go get a bite somewhere."

Milo was surprised, to say the least. Gabe's face was open and
jovial, and Milo couldn't see any desire on the man's face, just
an invitation to friendship.

Suddenly grateful that he had no night class tonight, he heard
himself saying he would.




TWO

If one was watching him, one would note that Gabe's mask dropped
the moment Milo left the office with coffee in his hand (it was in
a mug, one Milo promised to return this evening). His face
remained open and friendly, but his eyes were bleak and cynical as
he studied the scenery outside his window.

Down there, office workers were on their way to lunch. Gabe didn't
feel hungry, although Dawn, his secretary who for some reason
thought him adorable in a little brother way, would buy him some
sandwiches using the petty cash money for him when she went out
for lunch. Somewhere down there, he reflected, touching the pane
absently, was that beautiful young man named Milo.

Tall, almost as tall as Gabe, and with a wryly-muscled physique,
Milo was pretty. But pretty was inconsequential to Gabe, no, it
was the very tangible hunger and desperation underneath Milo's
smooth fa‡ade that drew Gabe. Milo didn't know it, but Gabe knew
that hunger. Only his hunger was more bewildering, in that Gabe
had it all - money, career, and security - but he was always
restless. He wanted so badly to let down his guard, to be himself,
although sometimes he wondered what the real he was.

Today he had seized the prized Monet collections of a weeping
widow after her husband died of a heart attack, leaving her to
shoulder the debts. The woman probably hadn't worked a day in her
life, as Gabe recognized her once or twice when he attended some
fundraising parties she threw, and now he was throwing her onto
the streets. It was business, and he was just doing his job,
besides, he couldn't save them all. He didn't even want to. Their
problems were none of his business.

But these people he had to deal with all made him feel mildly
nauseated sometimes. They always cried, after spending all their
money on useless luxuries and now unable to pay the piper, and
they always begged him for a chance. He only did what he was paid
for, but they never could understand that. The widow together even
offered her body, and Gabe, disgusted at her and himself, had to
do double duty to get her to calm down and out of her office. The
overdose of diplomacy and finesse drained him to the point that he
never saw Milo dashing up the stairs.

His hand caressed the front of his shirt as he remembered the
sensation of Milo's body against his, the imprint of Milo's hands
on his chest still burned pleasantly. The heavy throb in his cock
made him aware of just how Milo affected him. Maybe it was because
he hadn't got laid in a long time, but he had never recalled being
so aware of the smell of a man, the sensation of his touch, and
even the way fine dark hairs coated Milo's lower arm.

It was funny how this morning he was wondering if he would even
meet a guy who would affected him this much, and now he had. Que
serra serra, but Gabe had to admit that this time, things looked
rather uplifting for once. Maybe he would allow the next victim on
his schedule a little extension. He was feeling magnanimous for
once.



"How do I look?" Milo tried to comb his hair into some semblance
of order before the mirror in the men's room.

Jared Padalecki leaned against the wall - after carefully checking
to see that the wall was clean - and studied his friend curiously.
His path and Milo's crossed when Milo sent his bike to the
workshop Jared worked at for repairs a few months ago, and they
became casual friends since, saying hi when their paths crossed.
This evening Milo surprised Jared by dropping by and asking him on
tips on how to look presentable.

"You're sleeping with a rich guy, you should know how they like us
to look," Milo had said. "Come on, help me out."

"Topher's not that rich, and he hardly speaks to his parents
anymore," Jared pointed out. "I'm not exactly fitting in. It's
more like Topher's fitting into my world."

"You know how to use a proper fork and spoon and all, right?" Milo
continued, undeterred.

"I'll see what I can do," Jared said - what else could he say?

So here they were, Jared scratching his head in bemusement as Milo
fretted with his collar and hair. "How do you know he won't take
you to some familiar place to eat, like Henry's place? A lot of
office people go there to eat after their work day is over, and
they don't do formal there."

"Must be prepared, Jared. Just in case."

Jared bit his lower lip as he studied Milo. He took the comb from
Milo's hand and started adjusting Milo's hair the best he could.
"Your hair is hopeless," he finally concluded as he put the comb
down.

Milo shrugged as he looked at his reflection. "Maybe I should go
back to curly hair again. Straight hair is a bitch."

"No, straight hair looks better on you."

Milo turned to look at Jared in surprise. "Really?"

"To me anyway," said Jared. "Anyway, I'm lousy at style tips. I
was a nervous wreck myself when I went to Topher's place for the
first time. I borrowed Uncle Marc's best suit and Brian's best
trousers, and memorized as much as I could about spoons and forks.
But in the end it doesn't matter, because those people hardly know
which forks and spoons to use."

"Your point being?"

"Half the time these rich folks don't live by their own rules. Do
what you want, just make sure you look calm and confident while
doing it. If you make them believe that you're not afraid of them,
they'll forgive you for using a trowel for the soup."



Jared was right about the possibility of eating in an informal
place. To Milo's relief, Gabe took him to Henry's caf‚ that
evening for dinner. Gabe was pure chivalry, which was
simultaneously odd as well as charming to Milo - the man opened
Milo's car door first before he got in and later when Milo was to
get out. Gabe opened the caf‚ door for Milo, and the man even
waited until Milo has sat before he followed.

"You don't have to treat me like some fucking princess, man," Milo
exclaimed.

"Don't worry, I'll never mistake you for a princess," Gabe just
said, a smile playing on his lips as always, as he gestured to a
waitress for service. From most men, that would seemed a rude
gesture, but Gabe made it seemed like a call of gallantry, judging
from how the waitress' face softened as she rushed over. Milo
watched, filing away what Gabe did for his own reference, as Gabe
asked for her name - adding "Miss" before Sophia - and made his
order. Somehow even that simple act, in Gabe's charming way,
seemed like a gallant gesture, as Gabe worded his ways in such
that it seemed as if he is hanging on every word of Sophia's
suggestion for dinner. Gabe already had his order planned - the
marvel here was how he gently coaxed Sophia to suggest the items
he wanted to eat and make it seemed as if he was grateful that she
was intelligent enough to suggest such amazing food to him. Gabe
did all this without mocking condescension, oozing sincerity from
every pore.

Amazing.

"Uh..." Milo racked his brain. "I'll just take some grilled
chicken and ham."

Needless to say, Sophia was less enthusiastic when taking his
order.

"You're a fucking liar!" Milo said between laughter an hour later
as they walked down the street. "You charm them all off, you must
be one hell of a con. I wish I knew you when I was younger, man.
We could have had a nice career on the streets." The moment he
said that, he grimaced. Shit, now was a fine time to tell this man
he was once a juvenile delinquent.

Gabe smoothly filled in the uncomfortable silence. "Well, I was in
an all-boys' school all my young life, and those prune-faced
teachers never bought any word of my lies." He laughed at the
memory. "Not once, and I had all those cane marks on my ass for
all my troubles."

"I was a juvvie." May as well tell Gabe the whole story, Milo
thought with resignation. "Got caught while hotwiring a car, and
got the juvvie slammer for two years."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be." Milo lifted his arms in a nonchalance he didn't
feel. "I got out, I'm now trying to get a college degree in
sociology, and I'm clean. With my parents and brother to think
about, I have to be more responsible."

"Ah, you're the breadwinner then," Gabe said.

"Yeah. My father's heart was giving him problems and he was
advised to stay at home and rest. He and my mother took in some
work at home, usually tying knots on those handles on slippers and
some shit - "

"No kidding, they actually hire people to do that?" Gabe asked,
chuckling.

"They do, man." Milo smiled - a natural result of Gabe's
infectious good nature. "Well, I'm the man of the house."

"So you live with your parents?"

"No, of course not. Do you?"

"Point taken. My father is in Ontario, my mother in London. They
are divorced," Gabe explained. He told Milo of the divorce when he
was ten and how he lived all across the two places year after year
until he graduated and got a job and place of his own. "Put them
in a room together and you'll freeze to death from all the ice
they generate," he told Milo.

"I can't imagine my parents being like that," said Milo.

Gabe tilted his head towards Milo. "Lucky you."

"Does it still hurt, the divorce?"

"No," said Gabe. "I'm not the type of guy who gets all worked up
over matters like this. Que serra serra, Milo. Whatever will be,
will be. Now, take us, for example."

"Us? Yeah? How?" Milo laughed at Gabe's mock solemn face.

"If I haven't met you, I wouldn't feel alive the way I do now."

Gabe's unexpected declaration stunned Milo into stopping and
looking at Gabe in surprise. Gabe only reached up and let his
fingers touch Milo's lips - just gently, a few seconds before they
were removed, a few seconds too soon. Milo opened his mouth to
speak, but Gabe only bent down and kissed him. Again, it was just
a brush of lips, too brief and over too soon. Gabe stepped back
and tried to smile, but he could only affect a small tilt of his
lips. "Good night, Milo."

Milo was still shaken by the desire vibrating through his body.
"Oh no you don't," he whispered. He grabbed Gabe's shirt in his
fists and pulled the man back for a kiss, this time a hard one
that had Milo urging Gabe's lips to part for his tongue. Gabe
didn't hesitate. His hands moved up Milo's back, and he made a
soft yielding sound as he responded to the kiss, alive, vibrant,
and in need.





THREE

It had been a long time since they both had sex in the backseat of
a car, as they both laughing confessed to each other as they
pulled at each other's clothes.

"1987," Gabe said, letting Milo pull his shirt over his head. He
felt a slight twinge of self-consciousness of his beer barrel
tummy, but Milo only smacked it playfully and marveled that it was
hard and all muscle. Gabe grinned, relieved a little, as Milo's
bared torso was all rangy muscle with a slight smattering of dark
curls around those luscious dark wine-colored nipples.

"1992," Milo answered as he pushed Gabe down.

"Oof!" Gabe winced as his head hit the door behind him. "Damn, I'm
too big for this car. Let's get back to my place," he suggested.

"I can't wait," Milo told him, roughly pulling at the buckle of
his belt.

The sight of Milo's long and thick - it was unusually long, Gabe
noted in awe - cock jutting forth from a thick thatch of dark
curls surrounding heavy, low-hanging balls had Gabe agreeing
completely with Milo. Milo's paler flesh around the crotch area
was a sexy contrast to the rest of his tanned skin, and Gabe tried
to turn around so that he was on his all four at the backseat. It
wasn't easy, and he probably would get bruises on his poor injured
head, but he managed to attain the position and take Milo's cock
in his mouth.

Milo looked around them, and was relieved that the street was
deserted. If anyone saw them, they would see him standing at the
sidewalk, his jeans around his knees as he thrust his cock in and
out the hungrily sucking mouth of a pale-haired man on his hands
and knees at the backseat. "Stop," he whispered as Gabe paused to
lick the sensitive slit of Milo's cock crown, causing the man to
shiver in delight. "I'm going to come, Gabe. I want to come inside
you."

Gabe only slowly licked the equally sensitized ridge of Milo's
engorged cock crown before finally withdrawing his mouth. He
licked his lips as Milo pulled at Gabe's trousers, Milo's male
taste and scent infusing Gabe's senses like the most potent of
aphrodisiac, and then Milo was trying his best to move over Gabe.
Gabe laughed when Milo hit his head hard against the roof the car,
but his merry laugh faded into a quiet groan when Milo plunged
home.

His powerful thrusts was met by Gabe's own rhythm, Gabe meeting
him when he thrust deep, and Milo couldn't get enough. He fucked
Gabe hard, each thrust driving his cock deeper until his balls
were banging heavily against Gabe's heaving buttocks. His hand
reached down to jerk off Gabe's dick, stimulating the rhythm of
his own fuck thrust with that of his fist.

"Fucking hell, Milo, your cock is just... oh fuck!" Gabe moaned.
No one had ever ravaged him so deeply before, that amazing long
one-eyed snake tearing his insides apart in delicious sexual
sensations until he convulsed, Milo's cock crown hitting a spot so
deep up Gabe's insides that pure pleasure he had never experienced
before exploded in every one of his senses. He tightened the grip
of his muscular anal walls on Milo's rapid piston of a cock, so
hard that he could imagine Milo's cock veins imprinted on his
inner ass walls. Milo loved that, as he made loud, abandoned
groans in between crude obscenities that shocked Gabe deliciously.

Gabe came recklessly, his semen gushing over his own stomach and
crotch, at least twice, maybe thrice - he lost count as he was too
deep in his pleasure, having had mini-orgasms of pain and pleasure
blended in an intangible mix all throughout Milo's rogering. But
he was aware of Milo's increasingly frantic pace, and he
obligingly tightened his thighs around Milo's and clasped his legs
around Milo's bare buttocks, urging the man on. The car bucked and
protested under the hard thrusts they were both making, and no
doubt the sight of Milo's bare buttocks heaving and thrusting
between Gabe's thighs would be a shock to any passer-by, but they
both didn't care. Milo yelled in primal male triumph as his
ejaculation hit with a powerful series of spurts, and Gabe held
him as he took in every drop, and Milo kissed him once more hard
as they collapsed onto the backseat, Gabe holding Milo and kissing
him even as his ass tightened and loosened around Milo's still
spurting cock expertly, draining Milo until he felt like a
victorious warrior who had won valiantly the battle of his
lifetime.



Gabe tried to pay attention to what his boss Pierce Brosnan was
saying, but he couldn't stop thinking about how this lunch hour he
would be with Milo in a hotel room he'd booked for them. When Gabe
saw Milo smiling at him through the window as he talked to his
secretary, Gabe actually wished his boss would fuck off and die so
that he could leave with Milo now. Good heavens, he was losing his
head over Milo!

Pierce Brosnan wasn't dumb. He noticed the handsome young man
outside the door, and he certainly noticed that he had
deliberately stopped talking in the last minute but Gabe was
nodding absently as if he was still talking. No doubt this man
hadn't been listening to a word he was saying.

"Gabe," he said.

Gabe nodded with that empty smile on his face.

Pierce took the file he was holding and smacked Gabe's chest with
it.

"Hey! What?" Gabe realized that he was caught. His smile turned
sheepish.

"Fine, go have 'lunch' with your young man," Pierce said. "But as
I was saying earlier, this is a case I want you to handle. We
don't normally do small time cases like this, but the man's house
was situated on what I thought would be prime property the time he
offered it as a collateral for his loan. I'm right - as usual -
and the house is on a land that will be worth around a few
millions provided we get someone interested in developing it.
Landlords who are interested in selling own the other properties,
but this one is a bit difficult. But now he can't pay his loans,
and we can seize his house. You'll handle it, I trust?"

"Of course," Gabe said easily, but his face paled when he saw the
name of the person on the file. "Mario Ventimiglia," he said,
dazed.

"Yeah, guy took out a big loan for his eldest kid's bail and later
his younger kid's tuition fees and his own medical bills. Told me
not to tell his son as he didn't want the son to know the true
extent of their financial troubles. I like Mario, but business is
business, as I'm sure you agree, right, Gabe?" Pierce said.

"Yeah," Gabe just said, staring at the file like a man who had
just received the death sentence. "Business," he muttered.

"Good - I know you're worth every cent I'm paying you." Pierce got
off the table and made his way to the door. "Enjoy your lunch,
Gabe."



Gabe couldn't think. He couldn't do anything, except to sit on the
bed and stare vacantly at Milo until Milo paused in his act of
unbuttoning his shirt. He climbed onto the bed beside Gabe.
"What's wrong?" he asked, after kissing Gabe lightly on the lips.

Gabe tried to speak. He couldn't, not when all these emotions he
couldn't even sort out were all trying to suffocate him inside.
"Nothing," he finally said.

"You're bored already?" Milo asked in a nonchalance he wasn't
feeling.

"No," Gabe said. He touched Milo's cheek. "I don't think I will
ever be bored with you, Milo. You make me feel so alive, I can't
explain it." An idea crystallized in his head, one borne of
desperation. "Will you marry me, Milo?" If Milo was his, Milo
could never leave him. Gabe would have the power to stop Milo from
leaving him if Milo was his in every way.

"What? We've only known each other for a week," Milo exclaimed.
But oh, he liked the idea. Gabe could see it in the man's ruddy
glow in the cheeks.

"Milo, say yes, please," he whispered, moving his body over
Milo's. "I love you, Milo." Where did that come from? But anything
to keep Milo with him, Gabe thought ruthlessly. He'd say anything
and do anything.

Milo gasped as Gabe's cock penetrated him. He thought of this man,
this man whom he enjoyed fucking and spending time with, talking
and arguing and just being quiet with, and couldn't see why he
shouldn't say yes. Maybe there were reasons why he shouldn't, but
he didn't want to, he realized. "Yes," he cried as Gabe began
fucking him in earnest. "Oh fuck it, Gabe, yes, I'll marry you.
Yes!"

Lost in his pleasure, he didn't see Gabe's emotionless, even cruel
smile.

Later that night, Gabe watched Milo sleep, tired from his studying
for an upcoming finals. They rarely fucked at night, he realized,
with Milo having night classes three nights a week and bartending
duties until two in the morning at weekend nights. Instead, Milo
would often curl up in bed, exhausted, beside Gabe, and Gabe would
just hold the man until sleep took them both.

He'd glibly told Milo that he loved him. Now, watching Milo and
realizing how he enjoyed just sleeping with Milo - just sleeping -
as much as he just loved watching Milo breathe, he wondered if the
joke was on him. He also thought of those times when he caught
Milo watching him, the man's eyes softened with emotions he didn't
actually voice out, which was how he knew that Milo believed
himself to be in love with Gabe. He could exploit Milo that way.

Now he wasn't so sure anymore. He took out the file from his desk
and looked it over, having memorized every word in the fucking
file. Milo, Milo, Milo..., he thought, until he finally made a
decision.




FOUR

Gabe awoke to Milo's violent shaking of his shoulders. "What?" he
asked, jumping to full alertness when he realized that he had
fallen asleep while working at his desk. He immediately tried to
reach for the file he had been working on - guess which - but
groaned when he realized that the file was in Milo's hand. A
furious Milo's hand, actually.

"I'm sure you won't want to listen to the perfectly decent
explanation I have?" Gabe just asked.

Milo placed the report on the table, his body stiff with contained
temper.

"You can't blame me," Gabe pointed out. "They took the loan
themselves."

"How long have you known?" Milo asked.

Gabe didn't see the reason to lie. "Yesterday."

"The same day you asked me to marry you." Milo sighed. "Why did
you ask me that, Gabe?"

"Because I'm afraid this will happen and you will leave me," Gabe
said. "I don't want to lose you."

Milo sat down. "I don't want to blame you. But I don't think I can
stay with you and not remember how you are responsible for...
that." Milo gestured with his hand at the file on the table.
"Fuck."

"I know. It's not fair."

"Yeah."

"To me," Gabe clarified. He was slowly becoming furious now. "Not
you too, Milo. Can't you see it? I'm just doing my job. I'm paid
to do this, what do you want me to do? Find another job? Become a
fucking philanthropist?" The yell startled even he. "What do you
want me to do? I love you, Milo, so for fuck's sake, tell me what
do you want to do? Embezzle money from my own company to pay off
your parent's debts?"

"No," Milo said quickly. "No," he repeated. "Oh Gabe, no, of
course not." He rubbed his face wearily. "I actually hate my
parents at this moment," he admitted. "It scares me, because I've
never hated them this much before. Sometimes I resent that I have
to pass almost all I earn to them or my brother, but I love them.
And it's my fault that they were financially screwed-up, because I
wasn't a good son. If I had finish school and gotten a decent job,
they wouldn't be here now."

Gabe didn't agree, but he kept silent. In his current mood, he
didn't trust himself to say anything right.

"But I hate them so much now. I'm happy with you, Gabe, and I want
to have this feeling a little longer in my life. I want to choose
you over them, but I can't. I don't know what to do." Milo made a
soft broken sound.

Gabe just walked up to Milo and went down on one knee. "Milo,
marry me and we will both find your parents a new place to stay."

"The house won't cover the amount of money my father owed your
company." Milo made another broken sound, a sob. "Life fucking
sucks."

"Que serra serra," Gabe just told him. "It'll be okay, Milo."

"You're taking this well. You take everything so calmly," Milo
muttered.

Gabe took Milo's hand and placed the palm over his heart. "I'm not
calm," he told Milo, letting the rapid heartbeat of his tell the
truth. "I just have to pretend to be, because you have to always
be in control of situations like this."

"I can go back to hotwiring cars to pay back the loan." Milo
laughed bitterly.

"You don't have to." Gabe bent forward to kiss him.

Milo wanted to ask more, but he couldn't, he chose instead to
drown in Gabe's kiss, which offered some semblance of calm in this
mess he found himself in. He would ask later, but right now he let
Gabe lower him gently to the floor. As Gabe moved gently in and
out of him, he looked into Gabe's eyes and saw, even when Gabe
didn't say them aloud, the man's own confusion and hurt. He wanted
to be fair, but he couldn't know how. He couldn't even think, not
when Gabe was making love to him so gently and slow, a far cry for
Milo's own urgent fucking of him, and Milo couldn't help but to
wish he didn't have to be so responsible to everyone in his life.
He wished to be free. In that too brief moment when he climaxed,
he was free, and he let his control break as he rode the wave of
pleasure Gabe gave him so freely, and he wished so hard until his
tears fell that he could feel this way forever.



Something wasn't right with this picture, Milo thought as he
entered Gabe's apartment when the man was at work. He had taken
the day off, and now he headed straight for Gabe's work desk.
There was the file he saw last night that he accidentally read
while he was picking it up for the then sleeping Gabe. But it
wasn't right - why would Gabe be keeping this file at his place
instead of at his office?

He shouldn't be doing this, perhaps, but he had to know. Gabe
hadn't even cleared his desk, not when they were both making love
last night until dawn, and then they ate a quiet breakfast, too
confused to chat like they always do and too hurt to do anything
else.

Milo looked over the scattered papers. He had dealt with enough
important documents himself to understand the basics of what he
was reading. What he read forced him to sit down in Gabe's seat in
shock. Gabe was going to pay off Milo's parents' debts himself
with a loan he was planning to take out from his bank. Gabe would
put up his own place and his huge collection of Matchbox cars
(some of which were worth a fortune in the collector's market, as
Gabe had told Milo) for collateral.

More startling was that Gabe applied for a loan even before Milo
found out about his parents' debts.

Why didn't Gabe tell him this?

Gabe was hurt that Milo was ready to crucify him for being the
messenger and executioner, Milo realized.

"I forgot my mobile," Gabe said as he stood at the doorway. "Do
you mind passing it to me?"

"When will you tell me?" Milo asked, gesturing at the papers
before him.

"You're not even supposed to know about your parents' problem,"
Gabe said. "I know, I have no right, et cetera, but in a way, your
parents are my clients and I must honor their wishes. It's sick, I
know. But that's my job, Milo. If you are going to feel angry or
sick each time I repossess something, maybe it's better that we
end this now. This job pays well and I'm not going to quit my job
because there's no way I can repay the loan I'm taking for your
parents otherwise. Besides, I love my job. There are some moments
I wish to forget, but I love my fucking job."

"I want you to know that I'm not staying with you because I feel
obligated to do so, now that you are putting up your car
collection for my parents," Milo said quietly.

"I know," Gabe said. "You don't have to reassure me. Will I be
seeing you again?"

Milo nodded.

Gabe tried to smile, but he faltered halfway. In the end, he just
asked Milo to hand over his mobile phone.
