THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Tobias

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

"Forthsworth County!" John Cusack yelled in exuberance from his
standing at the back of the hay truck. "I love this blooming
countryside." He cocked his head at the other man sitting more
quietly in his corner and reading a paperback. "How's my toff
accent, Toby?"

Toby's British accent was genuine, as was his face, a blend of
aristocratic classic handsomeness and boyish earnestness.
"'orrendous," he said in exaggerated Cockney accent.

"Well, at least I can get me some great countryside photographs,"
John said. "Lighten up, Toby, it's your vacation."

"I know," Toby answered, turning the page.



"Who's the man?" Toby murmured an hour later, standing up from his
seat and walking across the diner.

He looked outside the diner glass pane, but there was no one. Yet
he thought he had seen.

"You're losing it," John said good-naturedly.

"Probably."



Toby saw him again that night, only this time the man was stark
naked. He stood in the shadows, his towel slung over his shoulder,
his bag of toiletry and a change of clothes forgotten on the
ground.

The woods were bright enough, thanks to moonlight and a battery-
powered electric brazier placed at the riverbank, right beside a
neat pile of clothes. The man in the river was basked in golden
light and shadows, dusky play of light and shadows highlighting
the breathtaking sculpture of the man's musculature. The man was
humming a tuneless song - and Toby found this even more attractive
than the man's body - as he gracelessly ran a wet cloth over his
chest.

Toby's fingers clawed into the bark of the tree he was holding on
to, feeling his blood rush in giddy arousal. The bather stretched,
every muscle in his glorious wet chest and torso rippling in a
sensual rhythm. Toby licked his dry lips, his hand rubbing over
the insistent throbbing in his shorts as his eyes feasted on the
man's lightly furred stomach with its corrugated muscles and the
deep pubic dimples that made Toby's hand itched to touch them.
Then the bather turned, revealing perfectly tapered back of
adequately broad shoulders gently sloping into narrow hips, before
spreading gently along the curves of well-muscled thighs. The deep
mysterious furrow of his buttocks beckoned to Toby like a siren
call, then the man bent over, the back muscles tensing and the
buttock cheeks tightening. Toby groaned, thrusting his hand into
his shorts to grip his swollen cock. He massaged himself gently,
his fingers pressing lightly along the engorged shaft, his thumb
rubbing the sensitive tip, spreading a few drops of semen that
leaked out from him along the broad head.

Fuck, why wouldn't the man turn around and show Toby his cock?
Toby bit back a moan as he watched the man looked downwards, his
hand motion indicating that he was gently cleaning his crotch with
the cloth. Toby shut his eyes as he imagined the stranger's hands
on him. His grip tightened and he quickened his motions,
tightening his grip when he reached the tip, loosening a little
when he pulled his grip back. His cock was now pulsing in
incipient release. Toby spread his legs as he gripped the tree for
support. Then he arched his back, and he couldn't help it, he gave
a loud cry of relief. "Aa-aa-aah God!" he moaned hoarsely as he
arched his back, thrusting his pelvis up as a warm arc of creamy
fluid spurted from his cock to splatter on the tree, on his
stomach.

"Who is that?" he heard the bather say.

Shuddering, panting, Toby huddled into the shadows. A cold chill
froze his lust when the man's eyes looked straight into Toby's. In
what seemed like an eternity, their eyes held. Toby thought he was
drowning, then he wanted to protest when the man broke their
visual contact, looking around him.

Toby realized the man hadn't actually seen him. He should be
relieved, but he felt instead something more mundane and
infinitely more painful - disappointment.


TWO

Nicholas Christopher Lea liked his name, but very little else
about him. Not many people had a last name like Lea, a thought
that gave him something to be proud of. He lived alone in the
cottage his parents left him, and Little Farthsworth was small
enough for him to build up a steady clientele of people in need of
odd jobs and manual labor to be done. As usual he would stop every
morning at the diner's, where Clara had agreed to let him place a
box at the counter. The folks of Farnsworth would leave messages
in the box for the one and only cheap slave labor in probably the
whole civilized world.

He saw the most beautiful creature in his entire thirty-six years
of life sitting in the diner. The man was seated in his usual
place, the same seat facing the window for three days now. Nic
could lose himself, staring at the man's classically handsome
features, with those exquisitely sculpted cheekbones and strong
jaw line and deep, attractive dimples. The man was pale and his
golden hair shone like the sun.

Nic saw the faint reflection of himself in the glass pane. He
wasn't handsome, and he wasn't golden. And he was never more aware
of the glass pane separating him and the glorious man inside the
diner.

No use thinking, he told himself as he pulled out the notes in his
box.

He heard a gaily voice behind him, but he ignored it until he felt
the warm shine of a smile on him. He turned and his heart skipped
a beat. The man was there, actually smiling, the vivid blue-green
eyes behind the glasses so deep Nic could spend his life drowning
in their depths. "Err, hi," he said tentatively. "You need
anything fixed? Plumbing?"

He felt heat creeping up his face when he realized what he had
just said.

"No. My name's Toby. Tobias Stephens, but call me Toby. Look, this
may seem odd, but mind if I join you in your work?"

Maybe he was finally getting his long overdue luck, but Nic didn't
question his good fortune. "Sure."



"Let me get this straight. You want me to help you find a fairy
circle?" Nic didn't know whether to be disappointed that Toby,
like every fucking one else, wanted something from him, or to
berate himself for thinking Toby would be different.

They were outside Nic's cottage by the river, ten miles away from
the nearest house. Nic dithered at the toaster he was supposed to
be fixing. He had painstakingly planked a thick board onto a dead
oak to convert it into an outdoor table where he could work
outdoors, which was where he was at the moment. He looked up at
Toby sitting five feet up on an oak branch.

"Fairy circle?" he called back. "What is that?"

"I've been reading about fairies and other fay creatures, and this
area was a hotspot for fairy sightings twenty years ago. Since you
live here all your life, I thought maybe you have some experience
in these sort of matters."

Nic had lived here all his life, never venturing farther than
Wickolmshire thirty miles down the highway. He was content here,
but hearing it from Toby, Nic felt rather backward and stupid. He
had lived here all his life. That sounded pathetic, he realized.
He had heard of his parents' native soil in Canada, but he had
never bothered with anything beyond that.

"You believe in fairies?"

"No," Toby answered. "But it sure beats reading John Grisham. That
fucker can't write."



"So why don't you go to London? It's more fun there," Nic asked as
he hammered the broken church porch floor. Usually the Father
wouldn't let him enter the church, but the priest decided that God
would understand this time.

"My friend John needs some countryside photos. He is making a
coffee table book for some publication house."

"John." Nic wanted to demand if Toby was fucking John, if John
meant anything to Toby. If Toby was even willing to give Nic a
second look. "I saw him with his camera the other day, pestering
the locals to pose for some pictures."

"There's John. He has no shame. He would make himself a complete
fool if that is what it takes to get what he wants." Toby climbed
down the tree, his gray slacks stretching taut over well-rounded
buttocks with each movement (Nic couldn't help it - he stared). He
dusted himself and rolled his sleeves up, revealing muscular arms
dusted with fine gold hair. "Me, I'm chronically shy. I close up
whenever I'm in a crowd."

Nic could only shake his head. Toby was actually unaware of his
beauty. Nic had noticed the female folks and some men cast
appraising glances at Toby, but the latter was completely
oblivious. He looked at Toby's hands, always encased in thin kid
gloves. "Why are you always wearing these gloves?" he couldn't
help asking.

"That's for you to find out." Toby's voice was almost flirtatious
as he picked up his coat and cast Nic a backward glance. "I guess
I better go back before John sends out a search party. Thanks for
the great day."

"You're welcome." Nic's eyes followed Toby until the man left the
field of his vision.


THREE

Nic was sleeping like a child. Toby sat back and watched the man,
ignoring his half-hearted attempt to fish. The sun was setting,
and light was dancing on Nic like fairies on midsummer's night.
Nic slept like the dead, snoring softly. Not that Toby blamed the
man for neglecting their aborted fishing lesson for Toby. Nic had
helped Matthews the furniture mill owner unload six truckloads of
timber products the whole morning and afternoon.

Dare he? Toby swallowed and slowly lay himself down on his coat on
the grass beside Nic. "Nic?" he whispered. No answer. He edged
closer and surreptitiously inhaled. Nic smelled of faint sweat,
sawdust, and maleness. "Nic?" he whispered again. Nic's only
answer was to roll onto his back. Toby could hear his own heart
thundering as his blood surged into his penis, into his temple to
pound wildly. He hesitated, then placed his head on Nic's chest.
He shut his eyes and stopped breathing.

It was so easy to imagine his head right at home in the nook of
Nic's arm and chest. "Nic," he whispered softly, a prayer. He felt
Nic's arm reaching up to fall on his back. The illusion of Nic as
his lover and protector was tantalizing, intoxicating. There would
be no more loneliness, no more hollow feeling. He would be home.

He reached out his trembling right hand to touch Nick's face. He
couldn't help it, he so wanted to touch the face that even now in
sleep retained some of its tensed wariness. His gloved finger
touched Nic's lip, and Nic's eyes opened.

"Hello," Nic murmured, his eyes nothing but tender warmth. "It's
not very polite to take advantage of a tired man." He began to
pull at the gloves.

"No, don't," Toby started to say.

Nic paused. "Why?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I tell you." Toby swallowed and pulled
at his hand that Nic remained holding tightly.

"There's little I believe in anymore. But for you, I may just
believe."

"I'm psychic." Toby smiled bitterly. "My bare fingers upon
touching you will have snippets of your memory transferred here."
He tapped his head. "Touching you will tell me things about you,
sometimes secrets you don't want me to know."

"I see. And you don't want to know me. I understand." Nic started
to push Toby away.

The loss of Nic's touch was too awful to contemplate. "No. I don't
want to know you and then know everything. after a while you will
hate me when you can't lie to me or keep anything from me. You
will walk away. They always walk away."

"Then you're not even giving me a chance." Nic looked hurt and
bewildered. "And yet you put your head on my chest and smelled my
scent. I was awake the moment you touched me, by the way. You
spent the whole week following me, staring at my ass and crotch.
Hell, you jerked off when you saw me bathe in the stream."

"You saw me that day?"

"Oh yes. If I didn't take pity on you I would have taken you there
on the riverbank." Nic smiled wolfishly. "So don't tell me you
don't want me, Toby. Your eyes are like bowling balls rolling down
the alley each time I take off my shirt to work."

"You are so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes I am." Nic pulled Toby over him and kissed the man hard. He
gave a grunt of approval when Toby opened his mouth and allowed
Nic access. His tongue slithered in the man's mouth, licking and
rubbing, then withdrawing to the tip before thrusting in again.
Toby's thighs splayed over Nic's crotch, Nic's cock jammed at
Toby's thighs, his hips moving in a motion mimicking that of his
tongue's. His hands snaked under Toby's shirt, pushing it up to
Toby's chest, then his fingers explored Toby. He pinched Toby's
wine-dark nipples, playing with the fleshy nubs, then he was
turning them over, he on top.

Toby looked at their touching crotches and slowly pulled Nic's
zipper down. "Whoa," he murmured when Nick's coc leapt from the
confines of his jeans to smack at Toby's chin. "It looks hot.
Maybe I can cool it a little." With that, he stretched his mouth
wide and took Nic's cock in. He licked at the tip, swirling his
tongue around the smooth head, licking at the ridge, before
swallowing it until his throat protested and Nic's rough pubic
hair tickled his nose. Then he withdrew his mouth to the tip
before repeating the tasting of the tip.

He gasped when he felt Nic's mouth closed over his own cock.

Nic pumped his cock into Toby's mouth, matching his rhythm with
Toby's own pumping of cock up Nic's mouth. Their hands were a
frenzy of exploration, feeling each other's nipples, tugging and
rubbing each other's balls, and then Toby's fingers pierced Nic's
anus. Nic arched his back at the penetration, crying his pleasure,
then he was jetting his salty fluids down Toby's throat. His balls
stung warmly as his orgasms burned, insensate in red hot
ejaculation that seemed to last for hours.

When his last spurt had subsided, he gasped. He rolled over onto
his stomach in silent invitation, raising to his knees and elbows.
He looked back and stared, transfixed, when Toby moved to mount
him. Toby's gloved hands rested on his thighs, then a finger
pressed into the tight muscle of his sphincter. Nic tried to relax
as the finger twisted in circular motion, testing the limit to the
stretch of Nic's anus, then the finger was joined by another, and
another.

"You're tight."

"I haven't done this in a long time," Toby managed to groan.

"Join the club." Nic shut his eyes and gritted his teeth when he
felt the burn that was Toby's cock head spreading his anal
entrance. He cried out in pain when the head pierced him,
stretching his ass almost to tearing point, then the pain receded
somewhat when Toby's cock plunged deeper. Toby felt like a
battering ram up Nic's ass, and Nic ground his ass at Toby
impatiently, aiding the man deeper until Nic felt the incomparable
feeling of that cock nudging against his prostate.

Toby moved, his hips a steady pumping motion. Nic could only enjoy
the ride, drowning in the potent pain and pleasure, and when he
felt Toby's warm juices slathering his burning insides, he felt
like a god. Revered and adored. Then it was his turn, his cock
buried in Toby's delicious anus, and he never broke off the kiss
even when he came for the second time that evening in Toby.



FOUR

"You looked like you just got fucked through and thoroughly," John
remarked. "Spill it out, where did you find a stud in a crap hole
like this? I want one too."

"Yeah? I'm not sharing. He's mine for this whole boring vacation."
Feeling better than he ever had in days, he pulled off his shirt.
He ignored John's exaggerated catcalls at the sight of the French
kiss bruises and imprints of Nic's overeager passion across his
back and neck. "God it feels great to get laid."

"Say you're not fucking the Madman, are you?"

"Which Madman?"

"The man you are following these past few days."

Toby looked at John. "He's not mad."

"He used to be, and the folks here wouldn't let him forget it.
Poor Lea almost murdered a man when he was ten, and was kept in an
asylum until five years ago. They say he has been pretty normal
ever since, but you know these small town people, they never
forget."

"Yes." Toby looked at the wall, his thoughts a million miles away.
"And why are you telling me only now?"

"Well, I don't see why I should, but seeing that you're involved
with him now, I thought you should know."

"I'm not involved with him. I'm just fucking him."

John gave Toby a who-are-you-kidding look. "I know guys like you,
Toby. You can't just fuck someone, you will get involved whether
you like it or not. Some guys are cut out to play the field, and
guys as fragile as you just aren't that type."

"Let me handle my own affairs, okay John?" Toby grabbed his towel
and headed for the shower. "I'll think about this."



He was gone. Toby and his friend John were gone. Nic stood at the
diner, only half-listening to Clara babble about the two newly
departed strangers. He walked away, not caring where he was going,
until he found himself sitting at the spot where he and Toby had
made love.

At least that was what they did in Nic's mind. Or he'd like to
believe, actually, but he hadn't been in love to actually know if
he was in love or not. What he knew was that he had somehow,
despite his better judgements, started daydreaming about Toby and
he starting a life together. His few sexual partners in the past
had never evoked such uncharacteristic impractical wishing in him,
hence he had to hand it to Toby for succeeding in sneaking under
his skin and breaking his heart.

Maybe he would hate Toby later. Right now he just wanted to lie
down and sleep. And so he did.



He continued his life as usual, in routine that was now killing
him even more because he had tasted magic if only for a short
while. He became short-tempered, not caring if the people thought
him mad all over again. Why bother? He had been so stupid - why
should he bother being on their good graces? His life was a rut of
pathetic broken dreams. He was unemployable, uneducated, coarse,
uncivilized. He knew it.

Except for one short week, Toby Stephens had made him feel
beautiful. Toby listened to him, and Nic felt confidence took seed
in his soul. At close to forty, he had stopped being afraid of
himself and the people around him. It wasn't much, but it was a
start. Then Toby took it all back.

He would have wept like he did the night he slept on the
riverbank, if he didn't feel so useless and pathetic and exhausted
in the same time.

And one week later, he watched, uncertain of his feelings, when
Toby climbed down from the bus, fresh-faced and never more
beautiful. "Nic!" Toby called.

Nic started walking the other way.

"Nic, I have to talk to you!" he heard Toby call.

The only reason he stopped for the heartless bastard was that he
owed Toby something for the happiest week of his life. He stood,
silent and forbidding, that Toby frowned, bewildered.

"What's wrong Nic?"

"What's wrong? You fucked me and then upped and left," Nic
exploded. "What am I supposed to think?"

"I left a note." Toby paled. "Didn't I?"

"No."

Toby passed a large brown envelope to Nic. "What the fuck is
this?" Nick growled.

"Why I left. For you."

Nic stared at the documents in his hand. "The man you almost
murdered tried to rape your mother. The case was reopened eight
years ago, but somehow they never get around to clearing your
name. I've started the petition with the help of a few lawyer
friends. I unearthed these while on a mad wild goose chase to
obtain paperwork certifying that you are fully recovered from your
stay in the asylum."

"So now you find out that I'm not a loony and you can now fuck me
without qualms?"

"No," Toby said easily. "I want to make the townspeople treat you
better."

"They never will. Trust me, I have lived with them all my life."
Nic didn't dare to look at Toby or his nerve would break. "So
you're done now. Go back to New York."

"Look, John has to go to Manchester to see to a family matter. I
have a spare ticket. Care to join me?" Toby looked at Nic
hopefully.

"Take off your gloves," Nic ordered.

"But I thought you don't believe in my psychic ability." Toby
removed them nonetheless, and Nic placed the man's palms at his
temple. Toby's eyes widened, then a wide grin split his face into
a million sunshine. "You sure, Nic?"

"I'm sure." He held his hand to Toby. "Help me pack?"

Toby placed his bare hand in Nic's.
