10 comments/ 30474 views/ 11 favorites A Timeless Place Ch. 01 By: windstormy This is the sequel to Bigrig. I do hope you enjoy the novel that is being created to hopefully appease the following I have humbly received. I am so very thankful for each and every one of you. Please remember that every author on this site is driven by your votes and comments. I am no different and would appreciate very much if you would vote and comment on this chapter and each one that follows. Disclaimer: This is erotic material. All of the characters, events and situations in this chapter and those to follow are fictional. It is also filled with gay male situations. If this is not your forte, please close this window and search for something more to your liking. Thank you... That evening they sat in the motel room. Jonathan stared off into space thinking. Just thinking. He had been much too quiet since the meeting with the lawyer that morning and everyone was beginning to become concerned. "I wanna go out, Bruce." He finally stated to the man. "I wanna drink. And I wanna dance." He stood looking at him seriously. Bruce coiled a bit, wondering where this came from and where it was going. "Are we celebrating something?" He asked then. "Yes…" Jonathan went to his luggage, throwing one of his suitcases on the bed opening it. "I am free." He stated to begin with. "I am free. And I am rich." He grinned then. "And I want to party down…" He slowly moved his hips side to side, bending his knees in a dance like manner. Tony threw his head back laughing boisterously. The rest of them followed suit. "But you can't drink, babe." Bruce suddenly realized. "Yer not old enough." He added almost sadly. "I can at my uncle's club." Jonathan glanced at him determined not to be brought down. "I used to drink there all the time. No one will tell me I can't either." "Is that so?" Bruce stood then. "I meant at my uncle's club." Jonathan reiterated. "That club is now yours, child." Peter knew the one he was talking about having accompanied him, Mr. Bowman and Tony to that very establishment many times. Every Tuesday, as a matter of fact. "Today is Tuesday, is it not?" Peter added thoughtfully. "Yes, why?" Greg asked. Jonathan suddenly gasped. "It's Retro Night!" He became excited suddenly. "What's Retro Night?" Greg asked. "70's and 80's music night." Tony recalled, perking himself. "Now that's what I'm talkin' 'bout." He rushed to his suitcase pulling out something a little dressy but comfortable to put on. "Race ya to the shower, kid." Jonathan giggled running toward the large spacious bathroom with Tony hot on his heels. "Well, I guess we're going out." Bruce chimed with a grin. "It's good to see him smile again, though." "You know he wants to get drunk, Bruce." Greg fussed now. "So, we'll let 'im. He could use the distraction and some fun." The man stated in finality. "And if it becomes a habit?" The man questioned. "Oh, no you don't." Bruce went to his suitcase tossing it onto the bed. "You know you need to stop while yer ahead, Greg. I am not gonna let him do that and you know it." "One night will not harm him, doctor." Peter agreed with Bruce. "Okay." Greg sighed long. "Well, if he gets home and you start finding a lot of empty bottles in your bar, you know what I'm going to say." ***** They arrived at the large building that was lit up with neon signs, flashing colors out onto the street vividly. The building across the way would intermittently be splayed with splashing colors of the sign. A long line of patrons waited outside the door to get in. They were all a range of assorted folk from all walks of life. They all stood around talking to their dates, some talking to the person before or behind them. The driver stepped out, opening the door of the limo. Jonathan stepped out first in a tight pair jeans and a black silk shirt that hung free midway of his thighs. A comfortable pair of loafers on his feet, he knew he would be able to strut his stuff on the dance floor with them. A gold hoop hung from his ear. Now, just before turning nineteen, Jonathan was a pretty little man. Thin, his body was beginning to fill out from a well balanced diet, but he was still a frail one whose life had erupted in a chain of events that had changed his life forever. His inky black hair, when left free to hang, would fall just past his bottom, now. A thin oval face with dark eyes, brows and lashes that he often used to stir the hearts of those around him. Rich full kissable lips that were very lovely and attractive, were often the source of much pleasure to the men he accompanied. All except for Peter of course. Bruce was next coming out of the limo with a black pair of jeans and a white button down Oxford shirt with a string tie. A pair of boots graced his feet. He had tied his long sandy straight hair back in a long ponytail at the base of his head. His face was long, thin with shapely eyebrows. Light blue were the eyes, his nose was straight and thin. The lips full curvaceous kissable lips. The man had noticeable power and strength all throughout his body, as well as in his neck, shoulders and arms. He wasn't overly built. However, anyone could see he worked out somehow and had built his strength. The man's waist was very trim. His thighs were firm and strong. It seemed he had not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. He almost was an intimidating man when he was undressed. It couldn't be helped but to wonder what he had hidden underneath the clothing he had on. Greg stepped out behind him with Tony and Peter right after him. The three of them were dressed to kill. The doctor was wearing a white shirt with navy blue stripes and a pair of charcoal gray slacks. The tie he wore matched the color of the stripes in his shirt with a gold caduceus tie clip that was given to him as a gift from Bruce. He is a very handsome man with dark hair that barely wisped over his outer ears and down the back of his neck. A lovely set of hazel eyes would often show with so much care and compassion. Of course, Greg was one of the most compassionate people that Jonathan or any of the other three men had ever known. His lovely face would reflect it so readily and involuntarily. He is healthy, but slender. Having begun to workout with Tony lately, everyone was beginning to notice a bit more definition to his build. It was most becoming and they often encouraged him to continue his new venture. Then Peter joined them adjusting his jacket as he stood there. Straightening the cuff of his sleeve, he glanced at his Piatek watch. He wore his hair down as was his preference most of the time. A pairs of shades with a blue tint matched the pale blue tie he had on. Bruce would often find himself mesmerized by Peter's eyes, as did many that would happen to look into them. The light crystalline blue of them was very distracting to him at any time he gazed into them. They appeared almost transparent. The shade of blue was so pale and transcendent. He literally felt a deep love from this angelic appearing being. The tall blonde was most cut in build and very healthy. His long hair fell around his shoulders as he moved, shrouding his arms and chest a bit. When the man spoke, Bruce would often suddenly recoil at the sound of his baritone voice and the thick accent in which he rolled his 'R's'. He was completely taken with Peter and only waited for the opportunity to present itself that he would approach him with his desires and longing. Tony was all in black with a white shirt that set off his dark skin tone perfectly. The first three buttons were undone to allow for a good view of his smooth chest. It opened to a paisley vest that was added just for contrast. His neck was graced with a gold chain from which a tiny pair of gold handcuffs dangled. It reminded Jonathan of the night Tony handcuffed him to the steering wheel of the rig. His shades were black and mirrored everything that reflected upon them. His hair was dark and long and tied back with several black elastics at even intervals down his back. He was tall... the eyes were large dark mysterious almonds, surrounded by thick dark lashes and thick trimmed eyebrows. His nose was average and rounded. The lips full and turned up in a wicked grin at the moment. The man's jaw seemed squared. His chin curved gently. The cheeks were high suggesting he might be of foreign origin. His skin was darkly tanned, smooth and unblemished... His shoulders broad and strong... The arms and chest seemed to be sculpted with muscles. His waist was trim. Powerful thighs and legs flexed and constricted at he moved. Jonathan turned looking at the four men that accompanied him. "Oh, my god! You guys look good enough to eat!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "You're gonna turn some heads yerself, kid." Tony grinned lasciviously at him. "Let 'em drool." He giggled, then turned, leading the guys up the steps. They were met by a menacing looking brute of a man who recognized Jonathan, Tony and Peter right away. He smiled as Jonathan stepped right up to him. "Hello, Mr. Bowman! How are you this evening?" He grinned at Jonathan cheerfully. "I'm fine, Rick." Jonathan grimaced at hearing that name again. "Is this your party, sir?" The tall muscular hulking man asked. "Yes, you remember Tony and Peter don't you?" The young man turned, motioning to them as he said their names. "Oh yes, sir. And I see you've brought some new friends." "Yes, I did. Is my table available?" "Sir, it's always available for you." He stepped aside opening the heavy door for them, allowing them to pass ahead of everyone that waited in line. As soon as the door came open, the reverberation of explosive music blasted its way into their faces, under their feet, into their ears. The floor beneath them seemed to throb with the beat of a favorite Journey song of the 80's. Colored lights danced over the walls, floor, and the crowds of people that had assembled in a sort of native ritual on the dance floor ahead. Strobes where flashing. The music was being mixed and extended. There were small round high tables bolted to the floor on the right and left sides of the huge elevated dance floor/stage. Three to four people were gathered around each talking and enjoying their poisons of choice. Many larger square and round tables were dispersed throughout the entire immense establishment. However, there such a crowd there that one couldn't really tell who was sitting at them. Peter and Tony moved up close to Bruce and Greg seeming to help lead them along in the direction Jonathan was headed. Those familiar with them and their faces, moved aside allowing them to pass unhindered. Others were politely asked to step aside and moved quickly. "Mr. Bowman!" Someone called out over the music rushing toward them hurriedly. "It's so good to see you again! Right this way, Sir," The tall topless waiter led them, making it easier to get to their table that was in the furthest corner of the room to the right of the entrance. It was situated just below the D.J's cage. The waiter assisted in seating the owner in the large comfortable high backed chair that Jonathan's uncle once occupied. "What can I get you and your party tonight, Sir?" Right away the table was converged upon by two of Jim's bodyguards. They took their stances at either side of Jonathan's chair. Peter and Tony greeted them cheerfully knowing them well. They talked for a moment, as Bruce and Greg took their seats. Bruce eyed the help in the establishment. He gave a very approving expression, as he watched topless waiters and waitresses alike float around the place taking orders. The same was true of the three topless bartenders that were working furiously at the expansive counter across the way. All of them were wearing the black bowties and white cuffs. It seemed to him that this was a place that anyone and everyone could enjoy no matter their preference. "Bruce!" Tony called to him when Jonathan couldn't get his attention. The man's head abruptly swung around in the direction the voice came from. "Whatchya wanna drink, man?" "Vodka Collins, babe." He called back to him. His eyes went to the waiter that had now crouched beside Jonathan's chair, using the arm of the chair to write the order on a pad while he talked to the young man. He was a very man pretty kind of guy with a very well cut body. Short blonde hair was spiked at the top. Lovely hazel eyes seemed to contrast his deep rich tan. The dark beds of his nipples were pierced and barbells protruded from each side of them. The black pants he wore hugged his trim waist and hips when he stood again. He watched as Jonathan grasped his forearm and the man leaned down to hear what he had to say. With a nod he hurried off in the direction of the overly crowded bar across the room. "Jonathan!" He leaned toward him, calling over the new song that began to play by Foreigner. The youth leaned to him on his arms on the table. "This place is nice, kid," He expressed with some excitement. "Really? You like it?" Jonathan seemed surprised that he would approve. "Hell, I'd come back," He chuckled though he was serious. "I guess so, it's ours," Jonathan reminded him. "Well, I like our imagination then, kid," He jested. Jonathan laughed. "Me too," His eyes lifted to see a well dressed David approaching in a nice suit and tie. He ran his fingers through his short brown hair, as he rushed toward the table pressing through the crowd of people to get to it. Jonathan leaned back in his chair studying the man, as he had seen his uncle do a million times. And now he understood why. Now that he owned the place, he would have to read the manager just as Jim had done. It seemed he was a bit unsettled and perplexed about something. What, Jonathan had no idea. "Mr. Bowman…" He reached a hand to Jonathan, as he finally got to the table. "Jonathan, Dave, please," The young man stood taking his hand. "Okay, Jonathan. How are you? And I'm so sorry about your loss." The young man grimaced at him seriously. "Get off it, Dave. You know better." "Okay…" He sighed heavily. "Did you wanna come up to the office for a minute?" "Yes, I did," Jonathan smiled faintly at him, curious about his demeanor. "Okay…" The man turned beginning to lead Jonathan toward the bar. "I'll be back…" The youth leaned over Bruce saying, as he started by. Bruce nodded watching him follow the manager past the bar and up a set of stairs. They disappeared into a room high above everything with a large two-way mirror. Jonathan remembered this office so very well. It was where he had come to hide from Jim too often. From the door the desk was to the left. It was cluttered with past due work that David had been listless about completing. In the center of the room in front of the desk were two overstuffed high back leather chairs. Between them was a small table. Off to the right were the stairs that led down to the dance floor/stage and the large ceiling to floor two-way mirror. "You want some candy?" Dave pulled out a drawer on the side of his desk retrieving a black glass tray. On it were two lines of powder already cut and five joints. Jonathan approached eyeing the tray discriminately. "Are those laced?" He pointed to the home rolled cigarettes. "Yeah." The man looked at him oddly then. It seemed as if the young man was undecided as to what he wanted at the moment. "I…I think I'll just pass," He looked into the man's eyes. It was hard enough for him to get clean after he ran from his uncle and the stuff wasn't readily available to him. He didn't want the habit again. "Sure…" He sat, replacing the tray in the drawer. Jonathan went to one of the chairs sitting. "Did you wanna drink, while you wait?" The manager looked up a little confused about Jonathan's inhibitions. They had always shared a nice joint at least once each nigh the youth's uncle brought him there. "Yes…" Jonathan parked crossing a thigh over the other. David stood going to a large window to his right. Sliding the glass back he called to the man on the other side. "Hey, Aaron. Make Jonathan a drink, would you?" He asked politely, then went back the desk sitting again. "What's goin' on, Dave?" Jonathan asked then. "Not much. What you see is what you get." He looked up smiling, half laughing. "I mean…" Jonathan leaned forward a bit then. David almost froze. Jonathan was acting almost exactly like his uncle at that very moment. It was such an uncanny resemblance that his breath was just before being taken away. It made him wonder if the kid he once knew, who had been so lovable and caring, would turn out to be just like him. He almost shuddered at the thought. Jonathan leaned back in the chair, halting his statement, as he saw the emotions flash across the man's face. Looking down, he took note of himself, knowing David had feared Jim terribly, and with good reason. "Is everything okay, Dave?" He asked returning to himself again. "Oh, yeah!" the man perked then. "Just nervous, I guess. With all the changes comin', just wonderin' what was gonna happen, is all." "Not much change is comin', Dave. Just relax. It'll be alright," He smiled gently at the man. They heard the sliding window open and close. The manager turned to see the drink there on the shelf like sill. Going to it, he retrieved it bringing it to Jonathan. "Thanks, Dave. Have a seat with me. Let's talk for a minute," That old smooth personification returned again. Sighing heavily, Dave moved to the chair beside the youth, where he sat. "Jonathan, I know it's none of my business, but you're really startin' to worry me. You and I go way back when you were just a pup. Not that yer that much older, but damn yer startin' to act just like yer uncle. Don't… It just don't become you, kid," He parked in the chair. Draping both arms over one arm of the chair nearest Jonathan, he leaned toward him. Jonathan sat staring straight ahead. It seemed he hadn't heard a word the man had said. David hesitantly mused, as to what he could be thinking at the moment. "I don't mean to do that, Dave. Sorry…" Jonathan stated seeming to come back to reality again. He looked down obviously deep in his own little world. "It's just botherin' me that yer doin' that. And I know you don't want that." He carefully scrutinized the young man, feeling he was a little more bereaved than he had initially let on. "No, I don't. I never wanna be like him!" He stated strongly. Dave coiled only a little at the growl that escaped the young man as he had said it. It wasn't like Jonathan to act this way at all. He could see the youth had undergone some good changes since he had left. But he relaxed as quickly as he responded. "I thought as much. You just be yerself, kid. Yer such a nice boy. It would be a shame to lose that." David advised. Jonathan nodded. He appeared to be caught up in a swirl of contemplation. "Are Peter and Tony gonna stick around and keep me in line? Or are you stayin'? What's gonna happen now?" David asked, watching Jonathan turn his face to him obviously thinking on it. "I don't know right now. I have to talk to my family. See what they say." He listlessly lifted a hand letting it drop to the arm of the chair again. "Oh, those other guys are family?" David asked giving an approving expression. "As are Peter and Tony." Jonathan informed him with a grin. "I love them all, Dave. They really are the best." His voice broke as emotion overwhelmed him. "Good, Jon. You need someone to take good care of you." He smiled seeming to perk about the idea. "I hope you don't close the place, Jon. That would be a big mistake, I think." David advised. He had heard the choking back of emotion in his voice, but ignored it, not wanting to upset the young man further. A Timeless Place Ch. 01 "I agree. But then again, I still have to talk to my family." Jonathan lifted the drink taking a couple needed swallows. "You relax. Bruce already said he likes the place. I doubt we'll close it. But I do wantchya to clean it up some." "Clean what up?" David asked inquisitively. "Get rid of the pimps and drugs, Dave. No more. I don't want to be forced to close it if you won't comply." Jonathan leaned forward shifting in his seat a bit. His eyes were focused somewhere in front of him, so distant they appeared to David. "Jonathan, that's half yer business here," The manager stiffened in surprise. "You heard me, Dave. No more. You want me to be myself, I am. Uncle Jim's business isn't mine. If the club can't make it on it's own without that, then we'll have to close it down." Jonathan's voice was still even and unthreatening. Sighing heavily, David nodded. "Okay, kid. Yer the boss." He stood going to the desk opening the same drawer again. Then he tossed a pack of cigarettes to Jonathan who caught it with a grin. "You were readin' my mind, man," He giggled. Opening it, he put one between his lips. David grabbed a lighter tossing that to him as well. Jonathan leaned forward grabbing it before it dropped to the floor. Sitting back, he lit up taking a long reminiscent drag. A knock came at the door that was unexpected. David looked at Jonathan expecting him to jump up and run down the stairs to the stage, but he didn't. With a light chuckle of relief suddenly, he went to the door recalling that Jim no longer was alive. He opened the door revealing Bruce standing there. "Hey, Bruce." Jonathan grinned as the man eyed him with reservations for some reason. "Come on in, it's yer office too." The man smiled stepping in, nodding to the man that was holding the door for him. "This is Bruce, David. He's half owner of the club now. Bruce, this is David, our manager." He introduced them to each other. Bruce then stopped turning to the man giving him a nice healthy Georgia handshake. "Pleased to meetchya." He said seriously. "I'm glad to meet you, too. Jonathan's been filling my ear about you and his new family," David took his arm leading him to the chair beside Jonathan. "Oh, has he, now? I do hope it was all good," Bruce asked as he sat. "Yeah, it was." Jonathan didn't reserve any emotions about it either. "And I'm drinkin' alcohol." He lifted the glass taking a sip. "Smokin' cigarettes too." "Don't get cocky, kid," Bruce eyed him seriously. "I can still bend you over my knee." Jonathan moaned. "I wouldn't fight that," he grinned. Bruce chuckled. "Go ahead and enjoy yerself. Just don't make it a habit," He propped an elbow on the arm of the chair. David watched the interaction between the two. It seemed to be they were acting like father and son. He grinned, half laughing, as he settled in the knowledge a little. Sitting behind his desk he waited, but not too long. "David is wonderin' if we're gonna close the club." Jonathan addressed Bruce then. "Oh?" The man looked to Jonathan with a curious expression. He was noticing how the young man was acting so reposed in his new position as the owner. It seemed very striking and odd to say the least. This was a side of Jonathan he had never seen before. Still, he wasn't really taken unawares by it. However, he was very pleased by him taking on such a huge responsibility. "Yeah. He's all worried we're gonna shut it down." Jonathan flicked his ashes in the ashtray on the small table between them. It appeared to Bruce he had smoked before he met him. "Well, it's a good question to consider. I mean, is it profitable? Makin' money? Or is it hangin' in limbo?" Bruce asked then. "It will be when I clean it up." David proposed then. His delivery was emphatic and laced with warning. "I don't think so, Dave. Give it a chance, okay?" Jonathan piped then. "Clean it up? What do ya mean?" Bruce asked looking over at Jonathan for clarification. His head turned sharply at the manager who answered. "Well, he asked me to get rid of the pimps and drugs. If I do, the business will drop a little, or a lot." The manager informed him. He lifted his hands from the desk, palm side up. With a shrug he expressed his concerns to Bruce openly. "You ordered that?" Bruce queried with a grin. He appeared to be surprised by it, but inside he wasn't. It actually made him proud that Jonathan would do that readily. And it seemed to Bruce that his first decision as owner was a very wise one indeed. "Damn straight! I don't want that kinda reputation hangin' over me." Jonathan quipped. With his body language as he shifted in his seat again, the two men could see he was more than serious. The tone he used bordered on distain for the crime side of his Uncle. Jonathan settled in his chair again, taking a long drink of the glass in his hand. Resting his arm on the arm of the chair he then lifted the cigarette to his lips drawing hard. Bruce gave an impressed, approving grimace at his decision. "You heard the boss," He shifted, taking out a cigarette, lighting it. His stare at David was one of purpose and determination. "Let's just see if it'll hold its own afterwards. Then we'll decide." He added. David nodded. "Okay…" he sighed long, leaning back in his chair. He wasn't happy about the idea, but he would comply to the new boss' wishes none the less. It was his only hope that after the dust had settled that he still had a job. A Timeless Place Ch. 02 Disclaimer: This story and all of the characters and situations are fictional. It contains gay male erotic material. If this is not your forte, please close this page and find something more suiting to your desires. Again, I am pleased to bring my readers another chapter in this continuing saga. And I appeal to you, reminding you that every author on this site is driven by your votes and comments. I am not different. So, please remember to vote and comment at the end of the chapter. Thank you so very much. Bruce and Jonathan sat with David in the office of their new club, discussing business for more than an hour. Soon, the young man became antsy and wanted to go downstairs and have some fun. "Come on, Bruce." He scooted to the edge of his seat. "Let's go do some partyin'." His face was full of anticipation as he stood. "Sure, kid." The man still had more to ask of David, but understood Jonathan's need and desire. "You think we might can get together later? Over lunch maybe?" Bruce asked. "I'd love that, Mr. Crawford," David stood coming around from behind the desk offering the man his hand. "Take my card and just call me. Jonathan knows my number too. So, we should be able to get together with no problem." "Good...And call me Bruce," He gave him a firm shake then moved to the door with the young man. "Sure, Bruce," David smiled, watching the two leave the room, closing the door. As they moved down the stairs and toward the table, a good slow dance song, by 'Wham!', began to play. Jonathan perked, turning to Bruce immediately. He slipped his arms around him staring hopefully into his face. "Dance with me, Bruce?" He pleaded lightly. The man smiled. "I'd love to dance with you." He answered, taking his hand leading the way to the dance floor. Once there, he turned to face him, surrounding Jonathan in his arms. They pulled him into his body snuggly and a gentle sway produced itself. "You're not ready to go back to Georgia, are you?" He asked pointedly. "Not yet." Jonathan answered honestly, "I mean, we still have to go through the mansion and salvage what the servants and everyone else ain't stolen. It's gotta be closed up and put on the market, and all. And--" "Okay, I get yer point, kid," He chuckled, halting him in mid-sentence. "I'm really proud of you, Jonathan. Yer showing me a lot a responsibility I never knew you had." His grin was obviously amused. "As long as I keep ya on yer toes, Bruce. That's all that matters." The youth jested. "It really surprised me that you decided to clean the place up. I'm very pleasantly surprised and very pleased, Jonathan. It would be so easy for you to step back and go for it." He purposely began to feel his way with him to see if it might be lurking there. "Oh, I'm tempted as hell, Bruce. I mean, it was always there for me before. And I dried out all by myself. I won't do that again," He shook his head back and forth, as he said the last. "That was so hard for me. And nobody there to help me, or watch me. I was so alone," His eyes filled suddenly. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Jonathan," He pulled the young man's head to his shoulder, keeping his hand there. Jonathan felt so protected at that moment. The way Bruce was holding him made him feel that way. One arm around his back almost grasping his side, the other hand was cradling his head to his shoulder. His cheek was leaning on the side of his head. He felt he could just stay like that forever with this man. More and more, he was becoming the father he never knew. And so unintentionally. His constant love and understanding, the gentleness with which he dealt with him, always so kind and thoughtful, Bruce was all he had ever dreamed of in a father, as was Greg. Tony was more like a big brother to him. His humor and playful way always pepped him. And he was so impulsive at times. A sort of rogue with a good attitude about life. And he loved that man deeply. He also knew without a shadow of doubt that Tony loved him. There was never any question of that. Then there was Peter, his guardian angel. The one that had stuck by him through many tumultuous times with his uncle and Maurice. Often he had thwarted their plans or spontaneous desires for Jonathan with news of an illness or something of that nature. Most of the time it worked. He was also the one that ministered to him after he had been abused by his uncle and Maurice, or whomever it was at the time. His gentle hands would clean his wounds, dress them and he would hold him until he cried himself to sleep. Always a kind and gentle way about Peter, and his soft words were carried on his deep baritone voice with its rich accent. He had so much to be thankful for at the moment. Yet he still couldn't help but wonder how his life might have been if his uncle hadn't been so sick...so deviously demented...depraved of mind and soul. Still, as Peter had said earlier that day, he wasn't always like that. Sometimes, it would seem he was as normal as any other person, and pure as the driven snow. He would laugh and be so kind to everyone about him, including Jonathan. It was a ritual that they go out every Tuesday night to his club for Retro Night. It was his favorite music, and it became Jonathan's too. They often danced just like this, with Mr. Bowman holding him close, protectively, yet gentle. His soft whispers would assure him that he cared so much about him. Often during those times of apparent normality, he would say those things. His hand would caress his cheek so warm and gentle...so caring. And frequently it would slip back into his hair, cradle the back of his head and draw him in for a long passionate kiss. He recalled many of those at the moment. Jim's urgent kisses, full of desire and wanton prelude. The forbearer of things to come later that evening, of course. And on those nights, his lovemaking was so awesome to Jonathan...so purposeful and lovingly crafted. That, he would miss about his uncle, and was already. Lifting his head, he stared into Bruce's eyes. He had to sate the need of his soul at the moment. And Jim was no longer. There wouldn't be anymore of those kisses and moments of lovemaking from him. No more of his gentle whispers of how he cared for Jonathan and loved him so. None of that would be given him by Jim anymore. And Jonathan felt such a dire need for it right then. To feel his lips pressed against his. The warmth and pliancy of them devouring his. Molding to them, yet active in their delivery. And the warm moisture of his tongue searching the very depths of his mouth, leaving nothing to be hidden in secret or unexplored. He needed that. To feel that again. Leaning his head to one side a bit, he connected with Bruce's lips. A hand came up cupping the man's cheek drawing him in...closer...beguiling him to participate. Jonathan's tongue drove into his mouth urgently. A passion was unleashed upon him that Bruce couldn't recall ever experiencing from Jonathan before. He reveled in the feel of it, pulling him even tighter to his body. A moan escaped him, as his body responded ardently to Jonathan's sudden onset of passion. How rare it had been that the two of them would come together like this. And how he had longed for it so many times. Yet, it would seem that circumstances would keep them apart, so very often. It was a wonder that they even had such a close relationship, really. Or, at least, that's how Bruce felt about it. Jonathan shifted as the kiss heated to a fervid ardor. He pressed his pelvis against the man's hip seeming to ensure that he could feel his growing need. His hands began to roam Bruce's body, gently caressing his back and shoulders. Once or twice he had made that subtle contact that caused him to shudder visibly. And, Jonathan felt it when it came. It encouraged him to continue his amorous search of his mouth and his powerful lean body. It would appear that he would loose himself and make out with the man, right there on the dance floor. His mind wondered again, which caused his kiss to lessen somewhat, for the time being. He was suddenly lost in his recalls of his Uncle as they were when they danced, just like he was with Bruce. The times when Jim was impassioned and sane, it seemed. He could feel his hand glide down his back stopping just below the small of his back. It then pressed him closer to him, as he tightly moved against him. The hand then slide up the back of his shirt. Warmth from his hand seemed to scorch his flesh with its heated ardent intent. And often it would sneak its way around, finding a nipple hard and begging to be teased. Jonathan moaned audibly. His kiss was once again full of abandon. He practically rode the man's thigh in an effort to sate the aching need that had produced itself. The strong thumping of his heart was literally felt by the man. Strong intense beats that would attempt to hammer its way out of his chest. He became lost in the moment, as he felt Jonathan's body completely given to him. His hand moved from the young man's side drifting slowly downward. And hearing that soft whiny moan of his drove him to utter insanity. His hand halted over Jonathan's bottom pressing his pelvis closer, firmly to his hip and thigh. Leaning forward a bit, he held tightly to him. The hand slipped up the back of his loose shirt, plundering the young man's body uninhibited. The warmth of his flesh, just the feel of it, seemed to ignite his senses even more than they already were. Driven by Jonathan's passions, he sought to sate the throbbing desires the young man had. His own were far too heightened, to stop it now. Ardently, he moved against the young man's body. The wandering hand slide around to his front beginning to tease and plunder more. It glided over the soft flesh that yielded to him so willfully. Drifting, touching, teasing, it moved downward still. But before it could find its way to the goal it sought out, Jonathan's breathing suddenly changed, expelling at a sporadically intermittent pace. He felt him pulsing between them. His excited moans filled his mouth arduously. All of this sent Bruce into an orbital climax that no one seemed to be aware of. Clutching Jonathan to him, he all but stopped completely on the spot they had been dancing. His body quivered terribly forcing itself to maintain it strength enough to remain on his feet. And the subtle jerks of Jonathan's body seemed to timely heighten his experience. His tongue swept deep into Jonathan's mouth, coming short of plundering the back of his throat. He was inundated with so much a provoking of such magnitude that he had not ever known with this young man. And his pleasure groans were mingled with the youth's, unreservedly. As their bodies calmed, Jonathan drew back from his fantasies of his Uncle, realizing what had only just taken place between him and Bruce. He snatched at air as he leaned his head to the man's shoulder once again. That hand came up again, resting over his head lightly. The fingers slowly curled, relaxing once again. "I love you, Jonathan," Bruce seemed urgent to say. "And don't you ever forget that," his voice was firm in expressing. "I won't, Bruce. I promise," the young man rested against the man, quieting the desperate need for air, still. He could feel the man's heart pounding against his chest so profoundly. Such a desperate attempt to match the emotion that he felt from the man's confession, it seemed to him. His eyes filled with tears, knowing it was true. He knew this man would stop at nothing to ensure his safety and well being. And yet, the passionate ardor with which he had only just spoken it pierced his heart, through and through. A Timeless Place Ch. 03 Disclaimer: This story and all of the characters and situations are fictional. It contains gay male erotic material. If this is not your forte, please close this page and find something more suiting to your desires. Again, I am pleased to bring my readers another chapter in this continuing saga. And I appeal to you, reminding you that every author on this site is driven by your votes and comments. I am not different. So, please remember to vote and comment at the end of the chapter. Hopefully the comment section at the bottom of the last page is working this time. If not, please send your comments by clicking on my name at the top of the page. When the bio page comes up click on comments and enter your comment there, or you may contact me via any of the email addresses in my bio. Thank you so very much. I would also like to thank Athena_by_night and SpiritWalker for editing and adding their feedback on this chapter, which I believe made this chapter more realistic. * Later that evening, Jonathan stood with his shotglass in hand. He looked at each of the men sitting at the table with him, as the waiter moved to each one depositing their shot before them. The swell in his heart that came over him as a result of his love for each of them, threatened to literally choke him. He wasn't feeling nearly as good as he had hoped to be by now. As a matter of fact, he was practically sober. Being much too busy talking and enjoying the conversations he was having with Peter for the last hour, was a huge distraction for him. And of course, the rest of them had jumped into their discussion whenever they had desired to. And now, he was yet sober. But he was about to change that in the next few minutes. "You guys," he looked to each on again. "I love all of you. And I wouldn't change what I have now for anything in the world. It had been my dream; to one day have a family that was so loving and so caring. You guys took on the challenge and haven't failed to show me either, yet. Thank you…" his voice broke lightly as he choked back tears that incessantly threatened to spoil his evening. "…All of you. I love you…" he lifted the glass to his lips downing it, quickly stuffing the lemon wedge between his teeth. Sucking out the juice he chewed on the pulp a little. A slow grin produced itself, as he lifted the mixed drink the waiter had left him. Putting the straw between his lips he began to chug it down non-stop. Realizing what Jonathan was up too, the waiter placed the platter under his arm beginning to clap in a tempo and cheer him on. The entire club joined him and the table was suddenly surrounded by people. Bruce and Greg looked around them not sure what to make of this. Bruce's stare settled on the young man, whose eyes were closed, concentrating on finishing what he had begun. He watched the liquid in the glass quickly drop to the bottom. All the while the bar had erupted in cheers, rhythmic clapping and loud comments that egged Jonathan on. It was then he realized that the kid had had some problems before he had fled his uncle. He recalled the way the young man had flicked his ashes in the ashtray as if it had been second nature. A new smoker would at least glance over at the place where they intended to deposit their ashes. But Jonathan hadn't. He also sucked on that cigarette like he'd been doing it all his life. Then the recollection of the vehemence in his tone about the drugs made him feel very helpless suddenly. Jonathan had informed him that he was so tempted to give into the desire. He had also told him on the dancefloor that he had dried out on his own. By himself. Alone. That made Bruce shiver with hurt and worry. What if Jonathan had strangled on his own vomit, or died of dehydration? Now, he could see that the young man was no stranger to alcohol. He had been reserved in his drinking up until now. And the man was proud of him about the fact. But it seemed that Jonathan had other plans now. He sighed long as he sat back watching the young man lean to the waiter talking to him while he set the empty glass on the table. The room erupted in loud deafening cheers. The waiter nodded trotting off to the bar again. Bruce wondered silently what Jonathan was up to. The young man noticed his stare and gave him a witty grin. Already he was feeling the effect of the drink. At the moment, it didn't concern him what the man was thinking. Even though he could tell he had some imposing thought on his mind, he didn't let it bother him, or bring him down. "Jon!" he heard off to his right from where he stood. His head whipped in the direction of it turning up a bit to see his D.J. waving at him briskly. Right away Bruce leaned forward and turned following Jonathan's ascent up the steps to the cage. The door of it came open and the young man disappeared behind the stacks of sound equipment. Tony didn't turn to watch, but looked across the table at Peter who was trained on the young man like a hawk with his eyes. He watched a slow grin produce itself and knew they were about to be entertained. "Come on, guys," he stood motioning for Bruce and Greg to join him. "Where're we goin'?" Greg automatically asked. "You'll see." he led them toward the dancefloor/stage where they stopped right at the edge of the closest catwalk that jutted out from the main stage on each side. The four men along with their security took up most of the space around it on all three sides. Now they had a birds eye view of what was coming. Peter brought up the rear of the slow moving course through the throngs of people. At one point he placed his hand on Bruce's shoulder for encouragement sensing the man had some troubling thoughts going through his mind. Moving in closer he deliberately distracted him with the movements of his body as it brushed against him from time to time. And that is where he remained while they stood below the stage. The feel of Peter's warm hard body distracted Bruce out of his thoughts of the moment. An advancement of progression sensation washed over him causing him to shudder from it. The sudden nagging desire for Peter rose in the man. He leaned into him a bit appreciating his subtle touches and encouragements. "Ladies and gentlemen…" the deep rich tone of the D.J. resounded throughout the club. "…Please, clear the dancefloor." People quickly began to vacate the stage with excitement. Bruce and Greg eyed one another wondering what was about to happen. They both became aware that now everyone else was gathering around the raised platform above them. They literally pressed in forcing their small group closer to the edge. The house lights dimmed slowly as a song by Prince was ending. It soon grew very dark so that one couldn't see even their hand before their face. And electric became the charge of the atmosphere around them. A hush surrounded everyone there, but for a few soft whispers here and there throughout the club. Love is like a bomb…bomb…bomb…bomb… The club became filled with the sounds of the cheers of the patrons suddenly. They pressed harder toward the stage as the beginning of the song built with a guitar more echoing phrases and words that repeated. The drumbeat was added at the end of this intro slamming out a few artful beats before all the guitars came back in. Jonathan's heart pounded relentlessly as he stood front and center of the stage. The charged current in the room excited him more. He drew upon it allowing it to sate his need and temptation for the substances he once was addicted to. And anyway, he really didn't want to go back to that life. He loved the one he had now. It was filled with all the elements he had once only dreamed of. Why would he want to mess that up now? He stood with his back to the audience, his arms wrapped around himself and his head gently turned down to his left a bit. The hands moved over his shoulders and back languidly. From where Greg, Bruce and the rest of the crowd stood, it appeared he had a lover in his arms rendering a passionate kiss. Going with the heat of the crowd, Jonathan began to move his hips in rhythm as if he were grinding them against his imaginary lover. The exhilaration of the crowd grew. Then the music halted for a second. Love me like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on Livin' like a lover with a radar phone Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp Demolition woman, can I be your man Be your man. His arms slowly drifted up over his head while his body undulated almost lewdly. He turned to face the crowd adding the circular motion of his hips. Moving closer to the edge, off to the right where the stage narrowly jutted like a catwalk, those hands returned to his body once more. "Oh…My…God…" Greg expressed, as he watched Jonathan perform for the very first time. His body responded immediately while he watched Jonathan literally molest his own body before everyone. They quickly moved to the area where Jon was now displaying himself, acting almost like his own personal entourage. Spanning themselves around the short aperture they gazed up at the undulating Jon. "Told ya…" Tony leaned to him speaking directly into the man's ear because of the magnitude of sound from the music. Greg nodded recalling that Tony and Peter had informed him that Jonathan might put on a show for them that night. This conversation took place while the young man and Bruce were in the office with David. Now he understood what the man meant by, 'a show'. Jonathan moved with precision. Each motion fringed on lewd seduction. His eyes were trained on those closest to the edge flashing those dark orbs at them with so much allure. Closer he moved to them as they literally reached for his legs, not quite successful as his friends provided protective cover. The daring he exhibited made Greg's heart thump terribly in his throat. All it would take would be just one of them to pull his feet out from under him and he would crash to the dancefloor unhindered. But it calmed him as he noticed the young man remained wisely just out of reach. Jonathan began to unbutton his shirt as he danced. Stepping back from the edge, he grinned, knowing he was teasing his audience. Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love Pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up Pour your sugar on me,-I can't get enough I'm hot, sticky sweet from my head to my feet yeah He slipped the shirt down one shoulder then the other. Deliberately, he was very sensual. Slowly he introduced naked flesh to his audience in a teasing manner. It slid down his arms to his hands. There, he spun it over his head tossing it to Tony and Peter. Turning his back to the audience he moved back to center stage where he pivoted on the ball of his foot to face them again, dancing his heart out. During the second half of the song and Jonathan became a wild man of dance. Alone, the guitars and drums showed him his solo dance. Lost in his own world for the moment, he just moved seeming expertly on the floor. As the song continued, he moved to the short edge of the catwalk again edge again, only this time right before his family. With a wild-eyed stare, he moved closer swirling his hips at them, his body undulating seductively. His hands traveled over his body unashamed. And it was Tony that took his dare reaching for him. Grasping his ankle, he moved his hand up his calf and over his thigh. The crowd began to roar deafeningly. Others reached to him briefly touching his legs heightening Jonathan's excitement. He began to squat slowly daring Tony to touch him further. The man was unabashed letting his hand travel toward his body. It slipped inside the thigh inertly making its way toward its goal. Jonathan let his head drift back, his chest heaving from his exertion and the arousal he felt. And soon he went to his knees. Bending backward a bit, he pressed his pelvis toward the man anticipating his willful advances. A multitude of hands touched him wherever they could reach, but steered clear of his privates seeing Tony was the one offered that. Yet, they didn't hold back from caressing his thighs, bottom, sides and abdomen. Finally, that moment came. Jonathan shuddered visibly as Tony's hand moved over his hardened flesh that was hidden in his tight jeans. Everyone could see he was so very stimulated by it. They applauded and cheered as the young man kept moving his hips in rhythm of the music against the hand. Then Jonathan's head came up. He gave Tony a most wanton stare. In it he told the man without words, they would get it on later that night. Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love Pour some sugar on me, c'mon fire me up Pour your sugar on me, oh, I can't get enough Pour some sugar on me, oh, in the name of love Pour some sugar on me, get it, come get it Pour your sugar on me, ooh Pour some sugar on me, yeah Sugar me Standing suddenly, he ended his performance with a few swift jerks, his arms splayed over his head at the last beat of the song. Still breathing wildly, he smiled as the crowd cheered and applauded. His eyes roamed over them as he gave them an artful bow. Coming up his eyes settled at the very back of the room. The deafening sound of the audience faded. Only his own heartbeat, he heard thrumming in his ears. Time seemed to stand still. His stare followed the seeming slow motion movements of the man stepping toward the back of the crowd. He looked much like Jonathan, only fuller and stronger. Older, though he still appeared to be young, possibly in his late twenties, early thirties. It could have been that he was quite older, yet the appearance of him was of a younger man who held his youthful looks very well. His black hair fell long down his back, being caught and swept now and then by the breeze created by his movements. An oval face encompassed those dark almond shaped eyes. A dark complexion with smooth unblemished skin was covered in a suit of olive green, the very suit he had been buried in. Tall and handsome he was, appearing as he had to Jonathan all his life. He gave the young man a gentle nod of approval, which was his way when Jonathan had done well to entertain his patrons. The gleaming smile was a blinding reflection of perfect white teeth. Jonathan groaned softly. His grin quickly faded as their eyes locked. Breathing erratically, he stumbled backward, fear gripping his heart terribly. His stomach lurched into his throat lodging there. This hadn't been the first time he had seen him since his funeral. But it was the first time he was sure it was him. Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment, his heart pounding relentlessly against his chest. It seemed to be the only sound he could hear at all. And this seemed to be the case each time this man made his appearance to him. He always moved in that same eerie illusion of a slow apparent motion. Jon, you are loosin' your fuckin' mind. He told himself meanly. Jim is dead. He's not alive. You're drunk. The young man reasoned with his own mind. That's what it is. You're drunk off your ass and seeing shit now. He gave it some thought. "Actually, I haven't even begun to be drunk yet." He then realized. With a whine he opened his eyes slowly; looking to the last place he had seen the man. His pulse raced even more not seeing him there. Frantically, he searched the sea of faces not seeing him at all. The olive suit he had been wearing would have stood out, but could not be found. In a flash, he scrambled to the edge of the stage where he lunged at Tony, leaping into his arms. He was converged upon by his family and the security in the place. The small entourage meandered toward the table once more. "Jon, what's wrong, babe?" Tony could feel him quivering, as the youth clung to him with a death grip. "I wanna drink, Tony," was all he said in return. "Jon, don't you think you've had enough already?" Now Bruce voiced his concern. "No, I don't, Bruce!" He almost spun to face the man in emphasis of his answer. "I haven't had near enough yet!" With that, he rushed to the table leaving everyone where they stood. "Somethin's wrong, Bruce. He was shakin' like a leaf. Somethin's either scared him, or…I don't know what, but somethin's wrong," Tony turned to him saying. Peter studied Jonathan from where he stood. He watched as the young man grabbed two shots off the platter the waiter was holding, downing both before shoving the lemon into his mouth. Then he picked up the mixed drink plopping down in the large chair. Taking a few quick swallows, he set the glass on the table scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His head rattled vigorously in a negative motion. The lips moved, indicating he was talking to himself. "Yes, something has disturbed him. I will tend him," the man pressed past Tony, moving toward the table in a non-threatening manner. Though his gate was purposeful, it didn't lack the grace and geniality he had always exuded. He parked smoothly in the chair he had been sitting in, assessing Jonathan's disposition. When the young man's lips moved again, he listened in on his self-solo conversation. "…I know I'm not crazy…" His voice broke, as he muttered to himself. "I saw it. I know I saw it." "What did you see, Jonathan?" Now Peter intervened. The young man's head popped up. His hands moved from his face and eyes quickly. He hadn't known Peter had been there listening to him. "Nothin', Peter…" His tone was one of finality. And Peter knew not to even attempt to pry the knowledge from him. When he was ready, he would voice his concerns, but not before. The man knew this. Not even a stick of dynamite would force him to talk if he didn't want to. Silently, Peter leaned back against the chair resigning his inquiry. Even though he was highly concerned, he could not force Jonathan to open up to him, if he wasn't ready. But he mulled over the possibilities of what could have commoved him so suddenly. And he scrutinized him thoroughly as he did. "I'm fine, Pete!" Jonathan barked harshly because of his piercing stare. Before Jon could blink an eye or take his next breath, he was in the man's clutches. The action startled the youth so that he yelped, his body trembled even more. His hand gripped, biting into his jaw firmly, but with much control. Their eyes were locked in a silent stare that frightened the youth even more. Peter had only done this to him one other time before, in the entire time they had known each other. He had been just as disrespectful at that moment, as he had just been a moment ago. And he knew he had deserved it then, as he did now. Plus the fact that he had only moments before been so rude to Bruce. He was sure this had added to Peter's wrath. No words were spoken between them. None were needed. Only that strong silent expression of warning that he recalled the very first time Peter had so reacted to his rudeness. Slowly, the man released him. The corners of his lips turned up into that gentle smile that Jonathan was so taken with much of the time. He relaxed when he saw it, knowing the man's sudden anger had passed. Having witnessed this man's deadly expertise in many a battle, he had a great respect for him and his abilities. But Peter would never hurt him. He knew this. Not unless it meant saving his life. "Tell me what has troubled you, Jonathan." The man leaned on his arms on the table. His hair shrouded him like a blanket of silky yellow blonde that had such a healthy shine. "I'm not really sure, Peter. Honest…" He returned quickly. "Then that is all you had needed to say, child. I am not your enemy. You know this to be true." He reasoned with him, knowing he was half drunk, or at least had a good buzz going on. Jonathan nodded vehemently glancing down as he did. His eyes lifted seeing the remainder of the family now joined them taking their places at the table. The young man suddenly no longer wanted to sit in his uncle's chair. He stood shuffling past Peter to sit between him and Greg. The two men moved to accommodate him. A Timeless Place Ch. 03 "What's goin' on with you, Jon?" Bruce asked kindly. Though his heart had been stung with the discourtesy of Jonathan's comment to him, he had reasoned to himself that he might do the same if something had frightened him so. This had calmed the sudden burning of his quick anger toward the kid. "I don't know, Bruce. I…I don't know," he leaned on Peter's shoulder for some comfort. The man slipped his arm about him allowing his attentions to be given to the youth. "You ready to go back to the room?" Greg asked then. Jonathan thought about it for a moment. "What about you guys?" he asked not wanting to spoil their fun. "We're fine, Jon. We just want you to be happy. If you want to go, let's go. I could use some fresh air anyway." Bruce informed him. "I think I am ready to go. I need to get away from here," he sat up saying urgently. Bruce smiled gently in triumph, and then stood. Getting him out of the club would steal him away from the alcohol and drugs that were so easily attained there. Tony and Greg stood with him, while Peter steadied Jonathan on his feet. They made the trek to the door being met with the warmth of the night air outside. They didn't stand there long before the limo pulled up in front of the building. The driver stepped out opening the back door for them to enter comfortably. Greg and Bruce ducked stepping in first. Peter handed Jonathan over to Tony getting in after them. Jonathan wrapped himself around the man moaning softly at the feel of their bodies so molded to each other. "I really want your attention, Tony." The young man kissed the side of his neck. "Hmm…" The man smiled allowing his hands to drift over the youth lazily. "Somehow, I knew that," he chuckled lightly. "You gave an awesome performance, kid. I was so turned on." "You really were?" Jonathan lifted his head from the man's shoulder looking into his eyes for truth. "Absolutely…" Tony grinned wickedly at him. "And we won't get to the room to take care of this if we don't get into the car, babe," he commented then. "Oh…" Jon turned, ducking into the car with a bit of a sway. Pour Some Sugar On Me Words and music by Def Leppard ~Vault. Original version available on Hysteria. A Timeless Place Ch. 04 Disclaimer: This story and all of the characters and situations are fictional. It contains gay male erotic material. If this is not your forte, please close this page and find something more suiting to your desires. Again, I am pleased to bring my readers another chapter in this continuing saga. And I appeal to you, reminding you that every author on this site is driven by your votes and comments. I am not different. So, please remember to vote and comment at the end of the chapter. Thank you so very much. They entered the spacious room. Jonathan was in Tony's arms. Tucked securely to his side the youth had his head resting on his shoulder, his arms latched around the man's trim waist. He was led directly to the far bed where they both kicked off their shoes stretching out together. Greg felt the need to join them comin up behind Jonathan's body. Bruce and Peter glanced at each other having the same thought at the same time. "C'me on…" Bruce motioned his head to the door with a grin. They made their way down the hall of doors that lined both sides of the motel. Coming to the elevator, they stepped in as the doors opened and to the back of it standing there silently for a moment. The doors closed. Bruce stepped forward touching the ground floor button. "It's nice to just hear some quiet for a change," he commented as he moved back to the rear wall beside Peter. "Yes, I had hoped we could spend some time alone," the man informed him in an almost whisper. Bruce now eyed him curiously. "Did you want to--" "No, Bruce." Peter lifted a hand halting his query instantly. His full lips turned up into a rich smile. A slow shake of his head produced itself. "I am not ready to display my…affections, so openly," he explained. Bruce chuckled. "Sorry, man. We've gotten so used to it; it's just how we live." "I understand. And I'm pleased that you do. In fairness, I'm not ready for it just yet." Peter moved closer to Bruce but did nothing more. "I don't think you're even sure you want this, Peter." the man looked to him tempted to drape an arm about his shoulders. But he didn't, not wanted to frighten him. "Correct again, Bruce. I'm not. But I do know I care deeply for you." he volunteered right away. "One step at a time, Peter. If you rush, you might be sorry." he warned. The man nodded moving back to the spot he had originally been standing as the doors opened again. Bruce looked at him grinning. He understood Peter's reservations and would never try to pressure him in any way. But his body was thrumming with heat and titillation of desire for the man. Quickly, he suppressed his longing and need as they stepped out of the elevator and around the corner. Once again, Peter stopped admiring the huge fountain in the center of the lobby. Then, he followed Bruce out the back door into the courtyard that was filled with shapely hedges, paths and flowerbeds. They meandered along the paths for a long while talking to each other. Then the subject turned to Jonathan. "I don't understand Jonathan's reaction to me tonight. He's never talked to me like that before." Bruce openly expressed knowing Peter know more about Jonathan than any of the rest of them. Except maybe Tony. "Something startled him. I overheard him saying to himself, '…I know I'm not crazy…' Then in the same breath he said, 'I saw it. I know I saw it.'" "Saw what, Peter? What did he see?" Bruce halted their forward motion turning to him to ask. "I do not know. He would not say," the man returned simply. "But you asked him?" Bruce pressed to be sure. "Yes, of course I asked. But when Jonathan does not wish to talk, pushing him will only serve to cause him to enclose himself completely within himself. He will tell one of us when he is ready," the man assured him with a gentle nod. Bruce stared at him for a moment. It was the first time he understood why Jonathan had clammed up on them so many times before. And they had only been meaning to help him. They knew he had issues with self-mutilation and self-injury that they all had desperately tried to understand. But as soon as they had begun to pressure him into talking about it, he would seal himself up so tightly that none of them could get him to talk then. Even though he now knew this and realized the truth, he still had that deep desire to just shake it out of him, if he could. But he had never done this and knew he never would. He just wanted Jonathan to be open with them about everything. It was the only way anyone could help him get through all of this. "He will talk, my friend." Peter grasped his shoulders in both hands. "You must have faith. He never holds it in for long. It may come as a question, or perhaps an inquiry of advice. But he will open himself to one of us soon. We all must be patient with him," he leaned down a bit catching eye contact with Bruce who smiled through his worry. Bruce nodded agreeing with him fully. Peter's hand came up to cup a cheek. His eyes locked onto Bruce's. His thumb caressed the skin that was covering his cheekbone. They both could see the affect of it in the other's stare. The contact was a mutual desire that rose in them both threatening to overwhelm them. Peter almost leaned his head toward the man for a light kiss. His powerful sudden urge to do so startled him somewhat. And yet he knew he wanted to lean into him. He was more than aware of the curiosity he had for this man. A strong cognizance of his desires to feel Bruce's arms around him, his body pressed to him closer than it had been that day in the forest, was overcoming him. A strange intoxication of sensation was rising within him fast. Bruce stared at him watching the changes reflecting in Peter's eyes. It seemed strange to him that he could read them so easily and knew what was going on behind those lovely transparent irises. And even though he wanted to reach up and grasp Peter's arms, he didn't. He only stood there gazing into the deep richness of emotion that was being poured out to him in the man's gaze. If any moves were made, Peter would make the first. He would not be guilty of persuading the man to his downfall, in the event he might regret it later. "I'm sorry, Bruce…" Peter dropped his hands moving on ahead of him quickly. "There's no need to apologize, Peter. I…" He caught himself about to tell him he enjoyed it, as he stepped up behind him coming along side of him. "…You enjoyed my touch." Peter asked, completing his unfinished statement. "Well, yes…" Bruce chuckled nervously. Inside he was screaming to him that he wanted so much more. But said nothing at all. "I wanted…" Peter stopped again turning to Bruce looking at him squarely once more. Frustration at his inhibitions forced him to sigh long. "I wanted to kiss you," he informed him then. "I know, Peter." Bruce cocked his head to one side a bit with a slightly sympathetic expression. "It'll come when you're ready. I won't push you. I promise." Peter nodded. "I know you wouldn't. You are much too honorable to do such a thing." "Thank you, Peter. Coming from you, that means so much to me." he admitted. Peter sighed again. He glanced off to his left as he always does when something was troubling him. "Talk to me, Peter." Bruce urged softly. "That is what I desire, Bruce. I want us to talk. And I know you have many question to ask me. I am willing to answer as many as I have knowledge of." he volunteered. "Okay…" Bruce perked then. Any time he could spend with this man was fine with him. And he loved hearing his voice and the thickness of his Russian accent. He led them to a nearby bench where he sat offering for Peter to park next to him. The man did half turning to face him. "Ask, Bruce…" He urged then. "How long have you and Tony known each other?" was his first query. "Ah…" Peter smiled knowing he would have to give him some background on this one. "As you have been told already, Jim's operations were beginning to attract the attention of my government. Tony had already infiltrated the man's forces and was working undercover for his organization. But he was very confused at the time I met him first. It seemed Mr. Bowman was pouring on the charm with him attempting to lure him into his bed. "I had need of someone reliable on the inside that could get me in. Tony and I made friends from the very beginning. I could tell he was not a criminal. He has a kind heart, though he refuses to allow those on the outside of his circle to see this. Only his closest friends and companions know his gentle side. You are lucky to have grown up with him and known him as you did. Or you may have never known him as you do…" "I know…" Bruce agreed with a nod of his head. "I befriended him after watching him for more than a month. One evening I saw him healthy and strong, the next, he was battered and terribly bruised. I took the chance to approach him that night…." Tony was seated at a small round table outside a café right next to the motel he and Maurice were staying at. In his hand was a very small cup that he was nursing. Peter sat not two tables away watching the man who had naught but a simple tee-shirt and a pair of jeans on, his police issue revolver strapped around his waist. The night before when he had seen him at this very place, he had been healthy, strong and glowing with vibrant manhood. But tonight was a much different story all together. One eye was swollen shut. His lips and the face on the same side was cut and terribly bruised. A large reddened bite mark was left on the side of his neck. This suggested an abusive sexual relationship that perhaps Tony needed some advise about. And his demeanor was not the same as it usually was. It seemed to Peter that this Tony appeared so very alone at the moment. And he thought to himself that it was time he befriend this man to help him if he could. "Hello, Antonio Santini…" he slipped up on the table Tony was parked at nursing a hot cup of coffee. Tony looked up into his face with the one good eye not daring to give him a smile. He remembered seeing this man hanging around quite often of late. But he slowly moved a hand under the table to secure his weapon anyway. "There is no need for that, my friend. I mean you no harm…especially when you have already incurred enough damage." he grinned kindly at him. "Hmm…" Tony moaned at having to be forced to recall how it had happened. "What's yer business here, 'friend'." his tone was a bit sarcastic, but Peter overlooked it. "You look like you could use one. I thought I would attempt to soothe your pain a little." his kind words and gentle voice did seem to have that affect on him. "Okay, have a seat." Tony rescinded his arguments out of curiosity really. "You're not from my country. You must be an American." Peter pulled out the chair speaking softly to the man for privacy as he sat watching people meander past them languidly. "Yeah, so…" Tony tipped the tiny cup that he brought to his lips sipping on the hot liquid. "…what's yer point?" he quipped grimacing at the bitterness of it. Peter chuckled lifting the flask of curdled cream that was in the center of the table, pouring a bit into the small cup. He lifted the even smaller spoon agitating it a little. "Now, try it, Antonio…" Tony stared at him wondering to himself who had sent this damn angel to take care of him so. And knowing it would be rude to at least not finish the cup, he at any rate, tasted it once more. To his surprise, it was much more palatable. "Thanks, man," he nodded gently then grimaced with pain from it. "You were not so abused last night when I saw you last. What has taken place to affect such damage to you, Antonio?" Peter leaned to him almost whispering. "I…I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled low. "…And please, call me Tony." "Yes…" Peter smiled already knowing he would prefer that. And it gave him to know he had made some progress with this one. No one calls him Tony but those who are close to him. He knew this. "Tony it shall be." He stared at him for a moment. "Your friend is very jealous of you sitting here with me, now." his eyes were locked onto Tony, yet he could see Maurice in the distance grueling with so much watchfulness over the fact that Tony was being entertained by someone other than he. "That son of a bitch can go fuck himself." Tony growled low at the man. "Ah…" Peter nodded singularly with realization. "He is the one that has done this to you. I suspect you became his little pet last night, also." his expression was most serious. And with the information he had about Maurice and his habits, he made that assumption easily. "I'm sorry he has done this to you." "Friend, if you want to remain so, can the convo, okay?" the man remarked bitterly. "Forgive my concern, Tony. I only meant it as such." "I know, man. And I'm sorry I'm being such an ass. I do appreciate your concern." "No need for apologies. I understand completely." Peter leaned back against the chair watching Tony sip more of the coffee. "That is a police issue revolver you wear, Tony. I was admiring it the other day." Now Tony set the cup down and started to stand up. Peter swiftly reached for his wrist and even though the man deftly moved to prevent it, he had him before Tony could get out of reach quick enough. "I am not your enemy, Tony. I know you are undercover working for Mr. Bowman. I am also attempting to infiltrate and gain knowledge of his dealings in my country. But I have no access to his ring. It is much too tightly sealed. Can you assist me? Would you help me?" he spoke so fast and in such a whisper that Tony had to really listen to catch it all. "You're working for the Russian government?" Tony asked silently. "Show me your credentials," he almost growled at the man. "I cannot here, when Maurice is watching so closely, Tony," he reasoned. Tony looked around him quickly. "C'me 'ere…" he made his way inside the little café for a second cup of coffee. Peter followed him quickly handing him his leather encasing of the card with all his insignia's on it. He glanced at it taking in the information fully and quickly then concealed the returning of it to the man. "Two coffees…" he asked of the man behind the counter holding up an index finger and his thumb. Right away, Peter began to converse with the same man ordering something a bit lighter for Tony's liking. The man chuckled making a joke about him being a lightweight American. Peter didn't agree but smiled knowing not to inflame the man who would be serving them their coffees. "That is how I befriended him. He took me to meet Maurice telling him that I would be an excellent choice for a bodyguard or some other position in Mr. Bowman's ring. Maurice tested me most of the evening in the motel room they were staying at. I noticed then the blood on the sheets of the bed and knew the man had sexually abused Tony. It angered me that this man would do such a thing to my new friend. I vowed silently, to myself then, that he would do no more damage to this man while I yet breathed. "Then, after he had tested me, he left us alone to do whatever was in his mind to do. He did not return until late the next evening. We made haste to the States where I met Mr. Bowman for the first time. He was amiable toward me. But his eyes would often undress me, I know. "When we were all settled again, one night we were seated in his luxurious office. Tony arrived with much of a cheerful grin on his face. Right away Mr. Bowman accosted him, taking him in his arms. At first I had thought he meant to only greet him…" "Tony, you look so happy tonight." Jim surrounded him, hugging him close for a moment. "I am…I had a good day." He admitted. "Excellent, my love. I have something very special for you." his smooth way and soft whisper against Tony's ear made him shiver. Jim moaned at the affect he was having on the man in his arms. His body surged suddenly with even more desire than he had had before for this one. Tony was most exciting to him and had been a great challenge for him to say the least. And he had wanted him unquestionably. And now he would have him, like it or not. Before anyone could think, he had Tony pinned against the wall. His body pressed him there harshly. His hand moved abruptly from the back of the man's neck to hold his hands where they could do no damage at all. "You like that don't you, Tony?" he crooned softly into his ear. The man bucked against him trying to free himself of the hold he had over him. Right away, Jim took his ear between his teeth. "Fight me, yes…Tony…" he groaned huskily. Biting down he tasted Tony's blood. That drove him insane with arousal for this man. "Is that all you have, Tony?" he spoke low but gruffly into his ear for only Tony to hear. "I'd love to see more, my love." "Mr. Bowman…" Peter had been on his feet the moment Jim had grasped his friend at the back of the neck slamming him to the wall. "Leave us, Peter! All of you! Leave us!" the man growled at them. "You mean to tell me that Mr. Bowman raped Tony too?" Bruce griped in surprise. "Not exactly, Bruce. As I had said, Tony was quite confused. He was being swayed by the man and it was almost accomplished. "C'me on, Peter…" Maurice chuckled after a moment of Peter's bold stare at the two against the wall. He watched as Jim's lips and tongue began to break Tony's resolve quickly. And if the man wanted this, he could not deny him of it in the least. He turned leaving the room with Maurice, only hoping Tony knew what he was doing. "It was many years later that Maurice sexually assaulted that young girl. He had sent me to do his dirty work while he assaulted Tony the same way again. When I returned early the next evening, I found him in the bathroom cleaning his wounds. Tony and I then went downstairs to the same café where we sat talking and drinking coffees. The owner also brought us pastries saying we had been his best customers all day. With a broad smile he left us to our conversation in which Tony revealed to me his plight the night before…" "I had gone to bed early. I knew Maurice was really antsy, but didn't think anything of it. I wasn't really feeling that well and went right off to sleep…" Tony sighed heavily as he stared into his small cup. It seemed he was lost in his own world for the moment as the memory of the events the night before forced their way back into his mind again. "Take your time, Tony. I know this must be very difficult for you." Peter lifted his hand placing it on Tony's forearm in a gesture of comfort toward him. Tony nodded only, still recalling it. "You have no need to say more, my friend, if you do not wish." "I know, Peter. And I appreciate that. But I have to talk to someone." Tony looked up at the man beside him at the round table they were seated at outside the café. "Then I will hear all you have to tell me, friend. And I will think no less of you, when you are finished." he assured him. "I didn't give it up easily, Peter. He cuffed me to the damn bed again, while I was asleep. I couldn't get away from him or do anything to protect myself. It was the same thing the last time he did this to me. And then is when he tells me he drugged my cola to make me go to sleep, both times. That's why I didn't feel well. That's how he was able to cuff me and I didn't wake up…" "I know a good remedy for those cuts and bruises on your wrists, Tony. Do you have them on your ankles also?" Tony nodded his eyes misting a little from his emotional pain. He unconsciously bit his lip trying to quell the tears that threatened. Already bruised and swollen, it hurt. But Tony was comforted by the pain of it somewhat. "Tony, you will begin to bleed again, if you do not stop." Peter warned watching the man literally almost bite through his lip. He took out the clean hanky in his pocket dabbing the oozing wound lightly when Tony released it finally. "Hold that to it. It will stop the bleeding." he looked at the man with so much concern now… A Timeless Place Ch. 04 "So, Maurice did rape Tony…" Bruce interrupted with his rhetorical question. He was more or less just thinking out loud. "Yes, he did, twice. It was all planned, you see. He had acquired the cuffs from a shop down the street the first time he did this. At the apothecary, he had the owner mix him a sedative that would make Tony sleep soundly, but last only long enough to secure him to the bed. When Tony awoke, he was being raped. He fought him strongly, which incurred the injuries to his face and body. Maurice stuffed a sock in his mouth tying a gag around him to keep him quiet from curious neighbors. Then he did as he pleased with him the rest of the night." Peter looked down at the squares of concrete beneath their feet as he revealed this to Bruce. "And Tony didn't kill him when he was let go?" Bruce inquired then. "Maurice had left him unconscious. He uncuffed him and left the room staying away from him until we had to rescue him. By the time I had returned, Tony was feeling the emotional affects of this unfortunate drama of his life." Bruce nodded understanding that completely. Having experienced the degrading emotional affects of Jim Bowman's wickedness, he could not blame Tony in the least. "So, what happened with the little girl?" He asked, watching the many emotions that were flashing across Peter's face. "We had just left the café and went up to the room. I had offered to tend to Tony's wounds insisting upon it to be honest with you. He was suffering needlessly. And I for one would not abide by it." Peter's voice became deeper and stronger with his emotions as he told the story. "I had gotten the desk clerk to send someone up to change the bedding and towels in the bathroom when I finished. She was not happy until I gave her a couple rubles to quiet her complaints about having to do this. And she angered me with her comments that we had played to rough. But I kept my tongue for Tony's sake, focusing my attentions upon his comfort alone. Just as she was about to leave the politzi came to arrest Tony…" The little cleaning lady almost jumped as she opened the door seeing them standing there. Abruptly she covered her mouth with a screech. Then she rattled at the officials making many inquiries of them and their purpose there. Peter came to Tony's defense right away. "He has been with me all night. He has done no wrong. We sat and drank coffee downstairs most of the night. Then I brought him up here to tend the wounds his room mate left on him from the night before…" "But you did not do this to him?" the short plump woman asked then. "Of course not, woman. Don't be obtuse," he grumbled then. "If this is so, the shop owner will agree you were his patrons all night?" One of the cops asked. "Of course, he would." Peter defended with a gentle smile. "Go and check this out…" The commanding officer requested of his junior. "If you need him for questioning, I would like to accompany him. He is not familiar with our procedures." Peter offered then. "We'll see…" the man looked past him and the woman to Tony who was sitting slumped forward on the bed. "It appears your story must be true. He barely has the strength to sit up. It would take much more to do what has been accused of him. I do not see that he was physically capable of doing this crime." the commander approached Tony lifting his chin from his chest staring into his distant gaze. "He is not even coherent. What is he on?" "Nothing, sir. I promise you. He is exhausted and in much need of rest. What is he accused of?" Peter inquired now. "Raping and beating a young girl half to death." The man answered with disdain. The woman gasped putting her fingers over her mouth again. "But, he couldn't have! They were together when they came up to their room! I just finished changing this room! They have been right here for the past hour!" she stomped her foot on the floor strongly in protest. "I assure you, this man did no such thing." Peter defended quickly. The junior officer arrived with the captain of the force. "Come now…" The captain barked at the man that was inspecting Tony's wounds now. "This man is not guilty of this crime. We go back to the yard." He waved a hand at the man urgently. "We apologize for any inconvenience, sir." he said as they left closing the door. "So, Maurice blamed Tony almost getting him arrested for something he did." Bruce chimed sarcastically. "Yes. And if I and the cleaning lady had not been there, he would have quietly gone with them and been prosecuted for the crime." Peter volunteered then. Bruce groaned most displeasurably. "That snake…" Peter chuckled. "I made Tony lie back and sleep until the afternoon when the woman returned to the room in a terrible dishevel." "There's a man on the phone that says he must speak to you or this Tony! He is very upset! You must come!" she grasped Peter's arm half dragging him down the stairs. When they arrived at the desk, she shoved the handset to him. Peter put it to his ear. "Hello?" "Peter, is that you?" The gruff voice of Maurice was on the other end. "I have a mind to hang up now, Maurice and leave you to your plight." he commented seriously. "You do and I swear you'll never walk again." the man threatened strongly. "Whether I walk again is not up to you, Maurice. What is your business and be quick about it. I must change Tony's dressings from what you have affected upon him." Peter boldly voiced. "Oh, aren't you the righteous one." Maurice quipped angrily. "I need to get the fuck outta here, Peter. They mean to hang me! You have to get in touch with Mr. Bowman and tell him I'm in trouble. He'll tell you what to do." Peter groaned most unpleasantly. "And if I don't?" "Then Mr. Bowman will see to you when you get back to the State, asshole. He'll be very suspicious of you and Tony for whatever cover-up you might be thinking about." "Oh, I mean to tell Mr. Bowman the truth of the matter, Maurice. You can rest assured of that. And I'm certain the man will be very disturbed that you have twice raped his little pet. Now you see fit to do the same to an innocent little girl. And, you want me to assist you in getting free?" Peter laughed sardonically at the last. "Peter! I swear…" The man listened as other angry voices came over the line. He could make out that they insisted Maurice end his call right away. "No! Wait! I'm not finished yet!" Maurice shouted at them in urgency. The line went dead. Peter chuckled at Maurice's quandary. But stood thinking about what must be done from the boss' point of view. Still, before he made that decision, he must know Tony's feelings on the matter first. "I will return to make a call, madam. Would you excuse me." he nodded politely at her then made his way up the stairs. The door was still open and Tony was still fast asleep. He hated to even disturb him. But he must know how the man felt about this before he made any decisions at all. "Tony…" He lightly shook the man awake. The man moaned, groggily sitting up rubbing his eye. "I'm sorry, my friend. A new development has arisen in which I must know your desires." he explained. "Oh? What's goin on?" Tony almost appeared to be drunk as he tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. "Maurice has just called me. He said they will hang him soon and wants one of us to call Mr. Bowman and find out what to do about this." The man informed him slowly knowing his condition was not favorable for normal conversation. "Let him rot…" Tony grumbled ardently. Peter chuckled. "Yes, my feelings are the same, my friend. But what would Mr. Bowman say?" "Ha! When he finds out what Maurice has done, he'll hit the fuckin' ceilin'." Tony boasted. "Then you should be the one to tell him. He would want to hear this from you, not me." Peter advised. "True." Tony stood staggering into the bathroom. "Let me wake up and I'll do it." he called from behind the door. "I will retrieve you some coffee, my friend." Peter went to the door leaving the room promptly. He returned only a few minutes later with two fresh cups of coffee in hand. Tony was inspecting the large bruise on his side that Peter had wrapped tightly. "No, Tony. You must leave that be." the man fussed vehemently. "But it hurts, Peter." Tony glanced up at him as the man set the cups down on a small table beside the bed. "Then you should inform Mr. Bowman about it and seek medical attention." the man moved to him strongly tearing Tony's hands away from the bandages that encircled his ribcage. "Oh, you want me to tell bowman that Maurice raped me? That would be a good laugh for him." Tony looked up at him grimacing as Peter tightened the ace bandage again. "You should tell him what has happened, Tony. He will know when we get back anyway. To surprise him with this would be a worse fate for you than for Maurice. This, I assure you." he didn't look at the man's worried stare as he worked. "You're right. Bowman would be furious with me if I don't tell him at all." "Then you know what you must do." he clipped the bandage securely then handed him a cup of the coffee. "We must also prepare to leave right away. I'm sure he will want us home quickly." Tony nodded moaning at the feel of the hot liquid that was exceptionally good that day. "What time is it?" he asked knowing Bowman would be up late, but they needed to call him before he retired. "It would be ten pm for him." Peter stated looking at his watch knowing what Tony was thinking in asking. "I need to call him right away." he set the coffee down standing. They meandered down the stairs asking the woman at the desk to use the phone. Tony made the call to his private number that only Jim's inner circle knew. "This had better be a life or death situation." his voice was as smooth and though it sounded non-threatening, Tony knew he was serious. He could hear Jonathan sniffling in the background and knew the man was up to his abusive ways. "Mr. Bowman, we have a situation over here." Tony returned quickly. "Stay…" he heard Jim command to Jonathan and move from wherever he was. "…Be quick about it, Tony." His tone changed to the demands of the moment. "Maurice is in jail for sexual assault of a young girl. He just called a couple minutes ago and said they're gonna hang him soon." They all stood there hearing Jim screaming through the phone a long string of profanities in his wrath. Tony held the phone away from his ear it was so profoundly heard. It was a long moment before he calmed again. "You must tell him, Tony." Peter spoke up then. "Tell me what!" he shouted then. "I'll tell you when you're calmer, Mr. Bowman." Tony offered. "Give me the phone, Tony. He must know the truth." Peter deftly secured it from the man informing him of what Maurice had done to Tony twice now. "And he never told me the first time?" the man yelled at Peter then. "Get him back on the damn phone, Peter!" "Thanks for nothin', Peter." Tony quipped. Peter shrugged as he took the handset from him. "Mr. Bowman, I…" "Hush, Tony. You need not explain yourself to me. I know it must have been difficult for you to trust me to deal with this in the first place. But you know I would have. You can leave Maurice to his fate. He deserves whatever he gets." a short pause came then. "Better yet, rescue him and bring him to me. I will deal with him myself. He'll wish he had been hung by the Russians." His voice was most pleasant again. "Yes, sir…" Tony understood his point completely. "You take care of your body, Tony. Let Peter nurse you until you get home. Then I will have my doctor tend you." the man suggested. "Get here as quickly as you can. Do not meander about Russia after you have gotten Maurice out. I am calling to make reservations for you right away, so you will have a limited time to secure the wretch." "Yes, sir." Tony kept repeating over and again until he hung up the phone. "I have work to do. Give Jim a few minutes and find out when our plane leaves." he instructed Peter as he made his way up the stairs to the room. Less than an hour later a man with a military hair cut and a dark suit entered the precinct with orders to escort Mr. Dubois to a facility elsewhere, where the execution would take place. He was informed then that the young girl had survived the night and had positively ID'd Maurice as the perp. Tony chuckled as the man was bringing Maurice to him. He could see he wasn't sure what was going on and why. The man that cuffed his hands behind him, he didn't recognize at all. His pulse began to race as he knew now that Tony and Peter might not ever find him once he was taken away from here. But he let the man lead him out of the building and down the steps thinking to escape if he could, once outside. But the man was ready for him and gave him a tight pinch over the large artery in the man's shoulder. He pressed him between his body and the car keeping him secured. And soon Maurice succumbed to the blackness that swirled around him so violently. When he next awakened, he was on the plane headed toward the U.S… Disoriented by all that had taken place he looked around him realizing Tony's disguise and disgust. "You did it, you son of a bitch. And I thought you were one of them." he laughed. "Don't count yer chickens too quick, Maurice. Jim is not happy with you at all." He informed him. "Well, fuck you too, Tony." the man groaned, his smile fading quickly. "Just tellin' ya up front, man. Mr. Bowman is pissed." He explained. "So, Maurice actually expected to go home and not face the music?" Bruce asked with a bit of a chuckle in his voice. "Yes, I'm afraid so. He truly believed he was immuned to the man's wrath. "Did Jim actually punish him?" Peter chuckled shifting to rest his arm on the back of the upright of the bench. "Let's just say, he needed some serious medical attention when the man was finished." "Oh, I've got to hear about this one." Bruce chimed, now very engrossed in this story Peter was telling. Peter nodded with another short laugh. "We arrived at the airport and took a cab to the mansion…" The three men entered the office where he was seated behind his desk. Jonathan was there under the desk giving the man one of his specialties. That is until his 'enforcers' arrived. "That's enough, Jonathan. Go and see that Mrs. Cora feeds you well, babe." he stole a kiss from the youth as he came up from under the desk. Jonathan grabbed his shirt from the back of one of the chairs putting it on before he left the room silently. Jim stood moving to the bar making drinks for everyone, including himself. "Have a seat, gentlemen. I know your flight must have been long and grueling." he seemed so very pleasant at the moment. "And how are you feeling, Tony." he turned with the four glasses in his hands. Giving each one a glass he went to his chair sitting again. "I'm very sore, sir. My chest hurts maddeningly." He complained lightly. "I'll have my doctor look at you as soon as I'm finished here." he paused for only a second. "I'm sure Peter has done an effective job at tending you, or you would not be standing, I'm certain." "No, sir. You're right." Tony respectfully answered. Jim smiled briefly giving a slight nod of approval. "Maurice, I hear you have been very naughty. What did you do to Tony?" He asked before the man could lie to him about it. "I only meant to have some fun with him. He was just such a prude. That's not my fault." the man chimed with a grin. "You also saw fit to grossly ignore my warnings to you when you are away from me." The man grumbled taking a long swallow of his drink. He then ran his thumb around the glass watching the action as though it amused him to do this. "Mr. Bowman, I'm really sorry about the little girl. I'll send her parents something for their loss, sir." The man suddenly tossed his head back laughing boisterously. "You arrogant prick!" he then slammed the glass on the table breaking it into large chunks. "She lived! You fool!" he stood coming from around the desk toward him slowly. "She identified you! Of all the idiotic things, Maurice! Now, you have implicated me in your blunder! And I am most displeased with you." his tone calmed at the last. Suddenly, he drew his automatic from the inside of his coat. Maurice looked down the barrel of it holding his breath long, waiting. Waiting for Jim to end his miserable life. Waiting to see if he had the guts to do it. Jim pressed the end of the barrel right at his forehead. He forced Maurice's head back with his strong coercion. "I oughta just kill you now, you arrogant fool. But that wouldn't be any fun for me, now would it?" the man grinned sarcastically. "No, sir. It wouldn't." "I assure you, Maurice. This will not be any fun for you at all. I am so put out with you, I really would rather pull the trigger than to look at you." his tone was so very smooth. "Then pull it, sir." Maurice haughtily stated. "You fucking…" he eased back on the trigger quickly. It clicked causing the man to become even more incensed. Raring back he slammed the weapon against the side of his head. Blood splattered everywhere as Maurice slumped sideways abruptly. He realized Jim was so very serious. It had never occurred to him that Bowman would actually kill him. That is until now. Hearing the tale tell click of the trigger forced him to know this truth. And now he would endure a most terrible beating from the man, because he had not loaded his gun. Tony and Peter jumped to their feet, trying to avoid the blood that was covering Jim, Maurice and much of the furniture nearby. They did nothing to stop the man, hoping he would make an end of Dubois' life. With him dead, all of them could sleep much better. Both of them had not ever witnessed Jim actually kill anyone. And Maurice was already unconscious having slid from his chair into the floor. That was where Jim was at the moment. Crouching over Maurice pistol whipping him to death. Unfortunately for all of them, he didn't manage to actually kill the man. He recovered after months of hospitalization and specialized care from Jim's physician. "He probably never intended to kill the prick." Bruce grumbled strongly. "That is what Tony believes also. But I do not. Jim has never been so angry. I had seen him angry before, but this was horrendous, Bruce. If only you had been there to witness it, you would know what I mean. Maurice actually had to undergo plastic surgery to correct much of the damage the man did to his face. He was not recognizable as the same man when he had healed the first time. After the plastic surgery, he was himself again. But he also gained a much needed respect for James Bowman afterwards." Bruce chuckled. "You don't say?" he jested. They both laughed for a moment. Then Bruce fell silent thinking. "I wonder if that could be part of the reason he only gave him a quarter of his investments." "I believe it is. I would almost guarantee that Maurice was originally meant to receive much more from the man's will. But it is obvious that he was sane enough on the day he changed it to recall that Maurice was no more deserving of anything at all, really. He gained a respect for the man, yes. But after his beating, he was never the same. He would not openly disobey Jim. Instead, he would devise ways to do this so that he could not find out. Or if he did, it could be covered up somehow. "But Jim was no moron. Did you know that Mr. Bowman was planning a terrible accident for him during the shooting, or possibly right after?" "No, I didn't." Bruce looked to him curiously. "Yes, he grew very tired of hearing of Maurice's blatant disobedience. He had already discovered Tony. And as you heard on the tape, he had meant to lure him in completely. Thankfully, Tony was much wiser. But I was never sure he knew of me. So, I stayed. And a good thing I did. Maurice would have killed Jonathan long before he attempted to that night we chased you down in Texas." A Timeless Place Ch. 04 "And Tony would've killed Maurice, but he was afraid he'd hit you." Bruce informed him. "Yes, Tony was always afraid for his aim. But I grant you, he is very good. His confidence was weakened the day Bowman asked him to take one shot at Maurice…." It was after their return from Russia. Maurice had finally healed from the beating he had miraculously lived through. Jim was most displeased at this fact and wanted Maurice out of the way completely. His anger still hot, he sat one day thinking of ways to be rid of the mongrel. "Tell me what you think, Peter. You are the most level-headed of us all. What would be your solution to this problem?" Jim nonchalantly waved the hand of the arm that the elbow was propped on the arm of the chair he sat in. "Sir, I will not be a part of blatant murder…" "Can it, Peter. You're in this as deep as the rest of us." Jim chuckled. "Just answer me, please," his tone was one of such calm that it seemed he was having one of his better days that day. "I must be rid of him, before he kills us all. Now, please, what are your thoughts on this?" "I agree that Maurice is a liability to this organization. And to answer you, there are many ways to be rid of him. Poisons are expensive that are not detectable, but very effective. There are those that will make it appear he has had a heart attack. One will slow down his circulation and respiration so that he will appear as dead. But once he is buried, he will awaken not long after…" "Hmm…" Jim grinned, thinking on that one seriously. "…That would be gruesome." he chuckled then. "What else could be done?" "Just shoot him, sir." Tony piped then. "Get it over with, damn." his vehemence was most evident. Jim studied Tony long for a moment. "Are you willing to be the shooter? I will not pull the trigger a second time. I could have ended my whole career over him that day. But if you do this, Tony, You get one shot at it. And clean up your mess afterwards. You're a damn good shot, kid. I wouldn't deny you your vendetta against him. So, think about it and let me know quickly." "I don't need to think about it, sir. Give me a rifle and a scope. I'll have him out of your way in ten minutes or less." Tony piped. Jim chuckled. "No, Tony. Let's make a sport of it. Use your police revolver instead." Tony looked at Peter then back at Jim. His breath was caught in his throat for a moment. "You can't be serious, sir." he grumbled. "Actually, I am, Tony. You are more familiar with that weapon, so use it." the man stood going to the bar. "And once you are done with him, return to me so that we can discuss your future with us." "Sir?" Jim finished pouring his drink then turned taking a single sip of it. Returning to the chair he was seated in, he sat gracefully. "Where is Jonathan?" he asked of Peter then. "I'm not sure, sir. The last I saw him, he was resting from last night, sir." Peter reminded him in his way that Jonathan had only just returned that morning from servicing one of Mr. Bowman's customers. "Ah…" the memory of that struck him at its mention. "When he awakes, I'd like to see him. There are some things I need to discuss with my nephew." he ordered gently. "There's no need to bring the kid in on this, Bowman." Tony grumbled. "NO?" the man leaned toward him in emphasis. "Sir, I will do it. But holding Jonathan will only make me nervous. I'll probably miss." "What kind of monster do you think of me, Tony? I have no intentions of putting Jonathan up for your loyalty to me." he relaxed again. His face appeared suddenly unimpressionable. "My nephew and I have things to discuss for tonight. This has nothing to do with you. But I feel you have something to confess to me, don't you, Tony?" he grinned finally. "Sir?" Tony shifted nervously in his chair trying to act as though nothing was wrong. "Yes, my love. But, I am willing to offer you much. I have need of you. And I do like having you here. You do an excellent job for me. I am willing to pay you twice what your organization is paying you now. Besides that, you have stolen my interest. I'll give you a car, pay all of your outstanding bills, I'll even give you a bonus to start that would help you take care of that one debt that keeps hounding you so. You think about it while you rid me of Maurice." he waved the man off like he always did when he was finished with whomever he was talking to at the time. "Sir…" Tony stood knowing he had already been dismissed. "Go, Tony. Return to me with an answer. You will be happy with me if you stay. I will say that." the man blatantly rested his hand over his crotch where Tony's eyes settled, knowing they would. Groaning, Tony rushed out of the room. Sweat beading on his face as he did. He almost hated the affect this man had over him. But now the man knew he was a cop. What would he do? He rushed to his room to retrieve his revolver, trying to quell the implications that had suddenly arisen. His only thought now, should be killing Maurice. But deep in the back of his mind his own survival was prevalent. Going up onto the roof, he knew Maurice was in the courtyard. It was his ritual lately since he was now living in the hospital of the mansion. Each day he was brought out to the courtyard to bask in the sun. Today would be no different. Finding the closest vantage point, he positioned himself. Sweat was dripping into his eyes as he aimed down at the man's head. Wiping it away with the shirt over his shoulder, he aimed again. His hands trembled. Come on, Santini. Ease up. Stop thinking and just shoot the bastard. He was thinking to himself. Taking a deep breath he aimed again, letting it out slowly. Knowing he had his target, he fired that one shot that was afforded him. But to his dismay, Maurice bent down to smell a stupid rose. The bullet zinged past the point Tony had aimed. Son of a bitch! I should've anticipated that! He scrambled back from the roof as Maurice began to look up to see who was firing at him. Crawling to the trapdoor, he jumped down and hurried back to his room. Quickly, he packed up his belongings. In a matter of two minutes he was out the front door. He knew Jim would be furious that he missed. And knowing that, he would also be murderous at the same time, having seen the results of Maurice's failed attempt, he also knew Jim wouldn't make that mistake twice. "Damn…" Bruce commented harshly. "Poor Tony." "Yes, but at least he was finally away from the confusion that had him trapped." Peter remarked. "Oh, yes…" "And he did come back to tell him his answer. Mr. Bowman insisted he return to at least 'clear the air' with him." "You're joking?" Bruce coiled finding it hard to believe Bowman could be so thoughtful. "It was a ploy to get Tony back under his wing. You see, as he stated in the tape, he wanted Tony. He was hard up for him and miserable the entire time he had been gone. He began to substitute Tony's presence in his bed with Jonathan or…" "Maurice…" Bruce groaned. "Yes." Peter smiled. "He wanted Tony. But not having him there, he had to feed his appetite somehow." "Was he that sexual?" Bruce asked then. "As much or more than Tony is." Peter stated with a grin. Bruce laughed. "Okay, I get the picture, now." He thought for a moment. He still had so many questions to ask of Peter. But he didn't want to weary him with so many at one time. "If you would like, we can continue this in the morning, Bruce. I know you must be tired." Peter offered. "That would be nice, Peter. But I'm not ready to go back to the room just yet." he volunteered. "As you wish, my friend." the man smiled with understanding. A Timeless Place Ch. 05 Disclaimer: This story and all of the characters and situations are fictional. It contains gay male erotic material. If this is not your forte, please close this page and find something more suiting to your desires. Again, I am pleased to bring my readers another chapter in this continuing saga. And I appeal to you, reminding you that your votes and comments drive every author on this site. I am not different. So, please remember to vote and comment at the end of the chapter. Thank you so very much. For a long moment they stared at one another. Peter had been telling him of so many events that had taken place while he and Tony were locked in a spiral of undercover work. For the moment it was quiet but for the birds that had begun to chirp in the nearby trees. The thumb that had rested on Bruce's shoulder began to caress him lightly. His powerful need had returned, now that they were quiet and so very comfortable with each other. It seemed to Peter that the conversation had drawn him closer to this man. Now that there was none, he was completely aware of him and his close proximity. He could smell the cologne Bruce was wearing that was driving him completely insane. By now it was mixed with the chemicals of his body, which made it all the more delightful to him. The thought of burying his face in his neck just to breathe in the scent of him, had presented itself. It was almost a nuisance. This strong desire that he could not ignore any longer, was becoming bothersome to him. He so much wanted to just lay his hand on him and explore. That thought did startle him somewhat. But his desire was winning out. His lips parted slightly as he laid his hand flat of the back of Bruce's shoulder. It slowly moved up the length of it. Coming over the top it halted for a moment feeling the strength of him there. He respected him for that. Bruce is a very strong man, indeed. All that is needed is to teach him how to use it to his advantage. And he would offer to do so next time he returned to see him. But for now, he would only enjoy the feel of that strength. His gentle touch moved up his neck cupping his jaw for a moment. He was fascinated by the handsome face he was staring into. And most pleasing in appearance this man was. Bruce was somewhat taken with Peter's willful touch. He struggled to sit still and allow it for Peter's sake alone. Otherwise, he would have the man in his arms rendering to him a most passionate kiss. But Peter had never experienced such a relationship with another man, so he refrained from frightening him. Still, he could see in his face that Peter was so very curious. It was evident he had a need and wanted to explore it. The stirring between them was gradually building with each moment Peter allowed his exploration to go on. And Bruce would not halt him in the least. As the fingertips moved lightly over his bottom lip, he closed his eyes moaning softly to him. He hadn't meant to allow it any voice. But it happened and he would not retract it now. He couldn't. But when he looked again, he would see that it had inflamed the man even more. Peter felt such a rush of tingling flow through him as Bruce made that delicious sound. He was so inundated with desire by now that he had forgotten why he was struggling with it. Leaning his head to one side, he came closer to this man. It was a slow progression that spoke of the hesitance, but also of the strange need he had. Their eyes flickered over the other's faces as he moved closer to Bruce. They both knew what was coming and anticipated it. Bruce was on fire with his thrumming need for this moment. But he held back waiting to allow Peter to make that decision. He watched the man's hair glide down over his shoulder and off it so gracefully. The vision of his lovely face began to fill his view completely. His heart thumped strongly with excitement that he might just go through with this. Coursing through his body were waves of overbearing sensation that he had longed for so much lately. Then the moment arose when their lips finally met. Closing his eyes again, another moan slipped from his throat. He opened to Peter automatically, allowing him entry into his mouth. And he had thought he was ablaze before this kiss. Now his entire body was overtaken with this fire he felt. It burned even hotter within him threatening to force him to lose control. Peter searched his oral recesses languidly. At first he was so unsure of himself. But as the kiss lingered and Bruce cautiously participated, he became much more comfortable with it. The taste of him was so sublime. The feel of their tongues brushing and playing against the others, felt so right to him. All of this made him relax more and enjoy the contact completely. He wanted more. But he didn't know how, or what to do about it. Slowly he eased away from Bruce's lips searching his face with pleading. "What is it, Peter?" the man whispered to him. "I need you to teach Me." he returned seriously. "You've never had sex before, Peter?" Bruce was completely baffled by his asking. "Not with another person, no." he appeared ashamed of the fact. "Only on my own have I sated my needs." he explained further. "Peter, you have no reason to be ashamed of that. Waiting for the right person is priceless. I only hope I am that one." Bruce conveyed his deepest feelings to him. "I believe you are, Bruce. Show me before I change my mind," the man spoke urgently. "Are you sure this is what you want?" Bruce had to be positive. "I am. Teach me." the man was even firm about it. "If I do anything that bothers you, you have to let me know, Peter. I don't wanna scare you," he instructed first. "I will. Please." the man seemed more urgent than before for his first lesson to begin. Slowly Bruce closed the gap between them. Their lips met once more resuming the kiss again. Allowing the mounting of their desires to be affected by this kiss, Bruce waited. It only took a moment before they were both heated again. Then Bruce's hand came up cradling his Peter's cheek. It soon slid back becoming lost in his hair. Gently he grasped the back of his head deepening their kiss. Now Peter moaned at the effect of Bruce's touch. He hadn't expected him to be so gentle and tender. As the hand slid back into his hair, it left a blazing trail of heat that felt as if it would sear his skin. Now the kiss was most impassioned. The simplicity of the man's gentleness and the affect it was having upon him was baffling to him. Their ardency heightened to a fervency Bruce had not known in more than a month at least. Not since the night before he had taken Jonathan on the road had he known such. And just the thought of it enflamed him more, he realized how much he missed being with Jonathan this way now. But, that could be rectified easily. Further into the kiss they seemed to throw abandon to the wind. They both knew they wanted each other and now was when they must sate that need. Both of them knew this to be true. Bruce reached for Peter's hand placing it in the center of his chest. With it there he could feel the pounding of his hastened heartbeat profoundly. "Touch me, Peter. Please..." he suddenly felt he was almost whining to the man. "Here, Bruce? Right here?" the man whispered back. "Would you be more comfortable in the room?" "No, there are too many there." "We can get another room, Peter. One to ourselves." the man suggested then. "Yes, that would do." It didn't matter to them that it was almost four in the morning. And they both ignored the strange looks from the man behind the counter. But within fifteen minutes they were in a room of their own. It seemed that this room was even more luxurious than the one that was originally rented. This room was similar to a penthouse suite. Now shielded from the eyes of everyone else Peter was so very comfortable. He could toss all of his inhibitions to the abandon he felt for Bruce. It would be much easier for him to allow his fascinations for this man to be discovered and revealed to him. All of the desires he had, he could explore without cause for alarm. Bruce went to the bar pouring them both a glass of wine. Bringing it to Peter, he gazed into his eyes seriously. "Drink this, it'll relax you more," he explained. With a nod Peter complied taking a few quick swallows of the chilled white wine. And it was delicious to him causing him to moan at the taste of it. Then he wondered if Bruce could taste this sweet to him. He already knew his mouth was more than delectable. But he couldn't be sure of the rest of him until he even attempted to fulfill the need of his curiosities. When Peter finished the glass, Bruce took it from his hand setting it on a nearby table. He then looked at Peter long wondering if he would be offended if he took him into his arms. Finally, he could only surmise that if he didn't try, he would never know. Stepping closer, he slowly enveloped him. Cautiously, he pulled him to his body fully. Peter sighed feeling so warm and safe now. This had been what he was waiting for all the while. The feel of Bruce's strong arms surrounding him was so very soothing to him. His body so very close that he could feel everything about him, was more than he had thought it would be. And he responded. With a sigh that could be faintly heard, his respiring issued from him slow and long. Encircling the man in his own arms, he leaned his head on Bruce's shoulder. It had been so long since he had felt so very safe and secure. The last he had ever recalled it was as a child in his mother's arms. And that had been much too long for him. He knew that. It had always been he that was consoling another, or offering his shoulder for someone else. But now, it was finally his turn. He could see his life was now coming full circle. Bruce stood waiting, knowing some changes were taking place in Peter. He allowed him his moment to soak up whatever he needed in their embrace. His hands were light as they slowly traveled up his back to his shoulders, then back down to the small of his back. Several times he made this pass as he waited. He knew that when Peter was ready to continue, he would let him know. And he refused to push him or pressure him. He shuddered suddenly at the feel of Peter's lips brushing his neck. It surprised him really. He hadn't been expecting it. And when it happened he was abruptly accosted by a wave of sensation that began at the top of his head working its way to his toes. He caught his breath in this throat just as quickly. The wandering hands halted pressing Peter even closer to him. An even bigger surprise came when the man didn't stop there. His lips were being planted here and there along the collar of his shirt. Reaching up he pulled the medallion, loosening the tie. Slipping it over his head, he set it on the table with the wineglasses. Then he proceeded to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt. But Peter stopped him from doing this wanting to do it himself. The hand returned to Peter's side as the man slowly worked the buttons through their holes. As he did, his lips paid close attention to the newly exposed flesh they rendered. He smiled as he heard Bruce snatch at air a couple times while he did this. It seemed arduous, but they were both enjoying it utterly. Soon, the shirt was open completely. Peter sneaked a hand beneath the front feeling Bruce's upper body for the very first time. What a delight this was for him. Touching the awesomely defined strength of Bruce was such a profound moment to him. He reveled in the feel of it. His warmth. The very cords of his musculature. Oh, how he had waited for this for so very long. His fingers passed over a powerfully hardened nipple. When they did, Bruce suddenly gasped, moaning right after. Brazenly, he took it between his finger and thumb. Giving it a gentle tug seemed to produce another pleasurable response from the man. A light squeeze, another. Peter was delighting in the affect he was having upon Bruce now. And he continued to tease the nipple for a long moment. Pushing the shirt over the one shoulder, his fingers continued to torment the one apex while his lips left a scorching trail of kisses over the opposite shoulder. Once he had met with the joint of his arm, he started down over his chest. "Peter, yer drivin' me insane." Bruce whispered to him. "This is good, I hope." the man jested in return. The warmth of his breath washed over the area he was attending to causing the flesh to stipple and Bruce to shiver again. "I take that as a, 'yes'?" Bruce chuckled. "You lecherous man," he moaned. Then he found enjoyment in Peter's gentle laugh. "Let's kick off our shoes and get comfortable." he suggested. Peter detached from Bruce following him to the nearby adjacent room. Bruce took his hand leading him there stopping at the foot of the bed. Pushing off his shoes, he slipped his shirt off his arms then stretched out on it getting comfortable. Peter followed his example, removing his jacket, shirt and shoes, coming up along side of him. Bruce took him into his arms once more as the man began again. The feel of his hair brushing his skin made it all the better for his senses. It seemed to ignite them more. As the man was teasing him relentlessly, Bruce urgently caught his head in both of his hands at one point. His fingers tilled through Peter's hair softly. Guiding him slowly, he taught him where his most sensitive areas were along his upper body. Most of them were along his sides and lower abdomen. And those were the areas Peter lingered at longer than the rest. But soon, Bruce was so very heightened he knew he had to cool down before he did something utterly stupid. If it was anyone else, he would roll with them and have his way with them. But he couldn't do that with Peter just yet. Still, he guided the man upward until he was staring into his face. "My turn," he grinned at him mischievously. Then rolled with him slowly so as not to startle him. Peter lifted his head pulling the length of his hair out from under him. When he settled once more, Bruce leaned down kissing him fully. He lavished upon every inch of Peter's body a meticulously slow lovemaking with his mouth. Meeting his goal, he teased the man languidly. His tongue glided up the length of his shaft to the tip drawing a favorable moan from him. Beginning to slowly incorporate him into his mouth, he watched as Peter fully enjoyed it. And once he had him entirely in his oral cavity, he ravaged him slowly. Tormenting him leisurely. Peter soon gripped the bedding tight in his hands arching to meet Bruce unconsciously. Time after time, he sucked in air, only to hold it for a moment before releasing it again. A moan here and there, was accentuated with a sudden inhalation through clenched teeth. Bruce chuckled sadistically, knowing he was torturing the guy so painstakingly. He knew the moment had come when Peter suddenly grasped his head holding him steady where he was. He wanted to laugh but for the flood he was swallowing furiously. Still, he loved the tormented sounds Peter made. As quiet as the man was most of the time, he wasn't so muted at the moment. His cries could possibly be heard through out the entire hotel, Bruce was thinking. And this struck him as most humorous. But he loved every minute of it. When the man calmed again, he did laugh lightly. They did away with the remainder of their clothing at which Peter suddenly felt so very insecure. Bruce thoughtfully came down atop him covering him completely with his body. "You're beautiful, Peter. You have nothing to be timid about," he whispered into his ear. "Thank you, Bruce. You have made this experience so profound for me." "And I mean to do even more, Peter. As much as you want me to do." "I want to see you satisfied, Bruce. You giving to me and taking nothing for yourself is not fair." "I'm fine, Peter. Just seeing your gratification is enough for me." "No, take me, Bruce. Take all of me." Bruce coiled at hearing this. It was the furthest thing on his mind at the moment. Oh, he had thought it would be nice, but dismissed it right away, because of the fact that he didn't think Peter would be ready for it just yet. And to hear him demand it now, utterly took him aback. "Peter--" "Do it, Bruce. I want you. And I want you to have me. All of me." the man cut him off as soon as he began to protest. Silently the man stared into Peter's face for a long moment. He then got up searching for something to lubricate with before he began. Quickly, he returned to the bed with a small bottle he found in the bathroom. Slicking his member with it, he returned to Peter still unsure of this, really. But as he moved over the man, Peter bent his knees lifting his hips a little to help accommodate him. Bruce was careful and as gentle as he could manage to be as he pushed the head past the tight ring of flesh. Peter winced suddenly from the initial entry, as the crown finally made its way in. Bruce stopped short allowing him a moment to relax again and become used to him being there. And when he did, he slowly worked himself in and out of him until he met his body. To his surprise, Peter did not back down in the least. Instead, he assisted Bruce in the labor of love at hand. When it was accomplished, he gathered the man to his body beginning to ride him right away. Bruce had intended to give him a minute at least, as he settled in Peter's arms again. But it was apparent he was more than prepared for this with him. He gazed long into his face watching him revel in the feel of it. All the worry Bruce had felt about it was now history. So now, Bruce relaxed. Every desire he had before in effecting this was allowed to flow freely through him. And how he had wanted to feel Peter beneath him as he probed him so lovingly. He had often dreamed of the moment it would take place. Now that it had come, he felt such a sobering regard for this man. All of his affections, every bit of his longing for him, the many desires and moments of need, he now poured into him as he made love to him. Leaning closer, he sealed their lips. His tongue probed Peter's mouth completely. The passion he delivered to him was fervid. An unmistakable show of ardor in his emotions. With as much gentleness as he could manage for the zeal of his passions, he unleashed upon Peter the collectiveness of his heart and soul toward him. Peter clung to Bruce feeling his hands gently, but urgently, grasp his face. One arm gathered his body to him as the other moved lightly over the side and top of his head at different intervals. The power in his arms became more than just a dream, or only something he was aware of. Now he felt it first hand while the man held him firmly to his body. Such smooth skin that was tautly stretched over perfectly defined muscles. Warmth and generosity was exuded from this man as he liberally gave of his love to him. The heat of their bodies was a firestorm that was consuming them both utterly. Its slow spreading flames were overtaking them. The longer they continued, it seemed, the higher they burned. The hotter their passions became. Their kisses had evolved into wild stabs of infectious desire for the other. A sheen of perspiration had formed in their labors. Audible respiring filled the room along with the pleasurable moans that would escape one or the other. "More..." Peter groaned to Bruce, barely getting it out before the man had covered his mouth with his own again. And the man continued his kiss thrusting into him a little harder. Still, he was cautious. He just couldn't seem to let go, afraid he would hurt the man in his arms and frighten him beyond repair. Peter suddenly bucked against him trying to slam his body against Bruce's. His feet planted on the bedding he shoved his hips and pelvis toward him. A Timeless Place Ch. 05 "Easy, Peter..." the man stared into his face with concern. "Stop pampering me, Bruce. I only want more." he almost seemed to growl at him. "Well damn, baby..." he chuckled. "That's all you had to say." "I did..." Peter grumbled playfully with a grin. Gradually, Bruce added more power to his thrust until Peter let him know it was just right. He could feel him pressed against his body so tight. The distinct hardness of his need was more than prevalent. The sounds of his breathing were short of a wheeze that was consistent. He waited for him to mount again. This time they both would collide with that wall of unruly passions, especially if he had anything to do with it. And he did. He pushed Peter further toward the edge. His every move forced him there even as gentle as he was with him. At the moment the man surrendered to his will, he tried to wait. Wanting to revel in his strong release, he attempted to force his body to wait only a little longer. But the influence was much more than he could withstand. It pummeled him indiscriminately. Together their voices resounded in the room. Moans mingled with quick snatches of air filled the space between the four walls. As it all calmed, they kissed lightly. Peter struggled to remain awake. He knew he had a plane to catch and would miss it if he did fall asleep. But then, it occurred to him that he really didn't want to leave. His heart begged him to remain with Bruce. "Peter, stay with me." the man beckoned softly but urgently. "Yes, I agree. I do not desire to leave you. I will stay. And what must be done to affect this, we must do." he affirmed. With a smile, Bruce lowered his head on the man's shoulder. Completely sated, he dozed into a euphoric state of satisfaction. Peter was staying with him and that meant everything to him at the moment. Peter knew the moment Bruce was asleep. Sighing long, he could only hope his government would not disagree with his decision, although, at this point, he wasn't all that concerned with what they thought. He only wanted to be with Bruce. That was all he desired. Struggling to keep his eyes open he felt he had so much to think about now. But the needs of his body were so very overwhelming. It needed rest, to sleep. And to not succumb to it may cause him some other, more serious, problems. With another sigh, this one of frustration, he closed his eyes allowing sleep to claim him. ***** Bruce was the first to rise later that morning. He went into the bathroom to do the necessary and clean his mouth and hands. Getting into the shower he splashed water happily on his face. He scrubbed his eyes with his fists to clean them of the sleep that was still there. Applying a little soft soap, he rubbed it all over his face and body before standing beneath the showerhead to rinse it off. Grabbing the face towel, he patted it dry, hanging it up again, right back where and how it was. Then he yanked the body towel off the rung doing a quick number in patting dry his body. Hanging up the towel again, he rushed into the adjacent room. Ah... Peter was still asleep. He hadn't missed a thing. And his angelic body was so peaceful and serene. Bruce slipped into his pants putting on a small pot of coffee for them. As it was making he sat to watch the man sleep. At the moment he was posed with one arm bent gracefully over his head. The other rested beside his body the hand resting comfortably on his abs. His head was turned to the right all of that hair was massed around his head and the one arm. But some of it had drifted down in his sleep. It was invading the area of his left shoulder and chest. Bruce became concerned knowing how Peter normally slept with his hair braided neatly to keep it from tangling. He could only hope they hadn't made too big a mess of it. Tangles can be painful depending on the tenderness of the head the hair is attached to. Peter stirred only a little. He rolled onto his side muttering to himself about something. After he settled he continued this conversation with himself but Bruce couldn't make out but a word here or there. Something about a channel, then there was a word that sounded like he was saying 'explosive'. Bruce coiled at the thought of it. What if he was mixed up with some really wicked shit? He is a Russian. Oh, stop it, Bruce. He's human just like you and the rest of us. Damn the fuckin' bias. He thought to himself. "Tony..." he now heard the man moan. Bruce stood going to the bed coming up next to him to listen to his dream state conversations. He knew the man worked for the Russian government, but did they know Peter talked in his sleep? And what did Tony have to do with any of this? Or was he just dreaming about the days when they worked together in Bowman's ring. Unless the two of them had secrets that none of them were aware of. That thought seemed to frighten Bruce just a little. It settled in the very pit of his stomach where it churned a little. What if Tony has had some other dealings with Peter other than with Bowman? Maybe Peter introduced him to his higher ups and they were impressed with him. He is an exceptional man. Very well trained from what Bruce had been told. And it was Peter that had said that too. Even so, Bruce knew that Peter would tell him, if he could. Some of it, he probably didn't want to know about, for the safety of the family. So, for now, he would be content with whatever news Peter gave him as time went by. Other than that, he would keep his nose out of it. A Timeless Place Ch. 06 Disclaimer: This story and all of the characters and situations are fictional. It contains gay male erotic material. If this is not your forte, please close this page and find something more suiting to your desires. Again, I am pleased to bring my readers another chapter in this continuing saga. And I appeal to you, reminding you that your votes and comments drive every author on this site. I am not different. So, please remember to vote and comment at the end of the chapter. Thank you so very much. It must have been around eleven in the morning when Peter and Bruce finally returned to the original room. Tony, Greg and Jonathan were already up and had packed to leave that morning. "Where have you guys been?" Greg asked, as soon as they opened the door coming in. "We needed a little privacy, so we got another room. You guys looked like you had things under control here anyway." Bruce grinned as he began to pack his few stray clothes into his luggage. "Peter and I are going to the lawyer's office this morning. We have somethin' to take care of. It shouldn't take but a couple minutes, if you guys don't mind," he was vague in the information, but polite in asking. "Of course, Bruce." Tony grinned already knowing what it was about. "Good luck, man. Hope it all works out for ya, Peter." "What?" Greg sat on the edge of the bed watching the tall handsome blonde gather his personal belongings in such an orderly fashion. "What's goin' on?" "I'm applying for naturalization." The man informed him softly. "Oh, my god!" Jonathan piped. "Yer actually gonna do it!" The young man stood motionless, his face glowing with excitement. "Yes, Jonathan. I am." Peter smiled gently at him. "You and I discussed this a couple years ago. And your advise was most helpful to me, child." "Really?" The young man perked at hearing he had something to do with his decision. "Yes, and we must leave here quickly, so help Bruce and I gather our belongings. The quicker we get to the lawyer, the faster I can begin the process." He reached an arm to Jonathan, giving him a tight hug, when the young man rushed around the bed with excitement. He practically threw himself into Peter's arms. Tears filled his eyes knowing the man was going to make good on his promise of that evening that seemed so long ago. It had always been one of his greatest desires to have Peter near him constantly. He provided as much balance to his life with his parental ways, just as much as Bruce and Greg did. And he loved them all for that. They made use of the limo on their return to the lawyer's office, being it was roomy and would fit all of them comfortably. Chattering back and forth, the driver opened the small window between him those behind him to inform them they had arrived. The rest of them remained in the car while Peter and Bruce made their way upstairs. The lawyer was politely surprised to see them back again. "I want to begin my naturalization." Peter informed him. "How long have you remained in the country that can be documented?" he asked then. "Almost five years," was his return answer. "Then you have a few more months before you can apply, sir. Within three months of your fifth year, come back and see me. And I would advise you use the same address as your other documented stays," he informed Peter. Silence hung in the air knowing Jonathan was not going to be pleased to hear this. "You can return to Georgia, if you like. But, I wouldn't advise it, if you plan to not have any complications with your visa or your application." The lawyer instructed patiently. Peter and Bruce looked to each other for a long moment. "How will we explain this to Jonathan?" Bruce asked almost inaudible. "I don't know that he would go for staying at the mansion for six months or more," he added. "Jonathan will be fine, sir. He's a very versatile young man. I'm sure you think of something to divert his disagreements." The lawyer smiled faintly. Bruce's eyes narrowed a little at hearing this. "We try not to keep the boy upset, 'Sir'." The last he spoke in emphasis. "He's been through enough." He said as he stormed toward the door. "Come on, Peter. You won't get any help from this geek." Forgetting his strength, he pulled the door open harder than he had meant to, which banged against the wall behind it. Peter stood staring hard at the slightly shorter man in silence before he moved to catch up with Bruce who was already in the hallway and headed to the elevator. "Bruce, there must be a way." Peter reasoned with him gently as they rode down. "We'll get advice from someone else, Peter." The man piped firmly. "If that is what you want, but I do recall the written laws are just what he has already advised, my friend." Peter's gentle way began to sooth Bruce's anger somewhat. "Let's just check, Peter…. Just to be sure. Ok?" His tone was calmer than before denoting his resignation on the matter. Peter nodded singularly, not answering; knowing it would have no affect on the man's determinations. They stepped out of the elevator, through the glass doorway and down the steps to the car again. "How'd it go?" Tony asked, and then wished he had kept his mouth shut when he saw their expressions. "Burns…" Bruce called from the back seat to the driver. "Do you know any other lawyers in town that might be able to give us some answers?" "Certainly, sir…" the man closed the glass door between them driving them all over Phoenix. They went from one lawyer to the next getting the very same advice, until the last one opened a book to show Bruce the law, which he insisted upon. In the aftermath, he sighed heavily; having wasted most of the day trying to get something accomplished. "I can write you a letter of intentions to your government back home, sir. But at the moment, that is all I can do for you. When you're three months before the allotted time, you come see me, I'll get your paperwork done and in the works. You'll need to start studying for the test, so take this with you…" He went to a concealed closet, which he opened taking a large book off the shelf. Approaching Peter, he seemed so sympathetic to his demise. It had been explained their reasons for not wanting to remain at the mansion for any length of time. But it just could not be helped at the moment, as it was turning out. "Thank you, sir. I apologize for intruding upon you so." He answered as he took the book from him. "Oh, don't be. I understand perfectly. And I would be happy to assist you when you return." The man smiled generously then. "Thank you." Peter turned to the crestfallen Bruce placing a hand on his shoulder. "We have to explain it to him. That is all we can do right now." "If you need, bring him up and I'll show him the same as I did you." The lawyer offered. "It might lessen the blow, being he cares for Peter so." Bruce nodded, turning toward the door, and then stopped looking back. "You've been most helpful. Thank you. We'll be back to see you in a few months." He promised, turning to leave the room. ***** "You can't be serious!" Jonathan protested after hearing their explanations as to why they ordered the driver to take them to the mansion. "I don't want to go back to that place, Bruce! Please!" Tears filled his eyes as he all but cried his words to him. "If we go back to Georgia, it'll mess up his applications and stuff. We have no choice, Jonathan. I've tried all day to prevent this. There's nothin' I can do babe. And we'll all be there with you. It's not like you're going back alone. Trust me on this. You'll be fine, son. And it may help you deal with your grief process, you know?" He was desperate to find the right answers for him and felt helpless not being able to give the one Jonathan wanted to hear. Jonathan wept softly during most of the ride, but kept as quiet as a mouse in doing so. All of his fears of having to go back to that place, mounted upon him the closer they got. He only could think of all the rooms, nooks and crannies that held so many unpleasant memories for him. Then suddenly, realization came over him. There was more to the mansion than that. And so much he did want to recall about being there. Plus, he wanted to get his hands on what the servants and staff hadn't stolen or 'borrowed', from his uncle, especially one certain piece of jewelry that was worth his weight in gold. It was a rare ruby diamond that was stashed in a secret place that Mr. Bowman had shown him only one time. His mind slipped back to that moment as he recalled it… Jonathan's eyes widened and his mouth gaped, as the man turned the large jewel bag up allowing the diamond to spill into his palm. He had never seen anything as beautiful and expensive in all his life. Mr. Bowman moved the hand that cradled the gem toward him. "Go ahead. You can touch it." He smiled broadly at his nephew's response. Timidly, he lifted the precious jewel from Jim's hand, with a finger and thumb. Holding it up, he stared at it as the light in the room gleamed through it. Then placing it in his palm, he felt the weight of the large piece. He enclosed it in his hand protectively, knowing it was priceless. "I keep it here, Jonathan. So, if anything ever happens to me, this is yours. You find it and keep it." Mr. Bowman held out his hand to receive it back. Jonathan relinquished the gem to him, watching him place it back into the bag. His eyes followed the hand and bag to the drawer of the tall jewelry box. They both disappeared into the very back of the drawer, past the back edge of it. The hand was then removed and the drawer closed. A Timeless Place Ch. 07 The limo pulled up the long cement driveway to the mansion that sat back of the property. The front was a desert oasis with its many live cacti, shrubs, and what flowering plants would bloom in Arizona, ponds and running streams over which the driveway led on wooden arches. Some ponds were graced with different sized waterfalls; each one differed from the other in beauty and the grace it added to the scenery. Bruce and Greg turned their heads one way then another to look at the unexpected scenes that passed them by. Jonathan smiled knowing they were caught up in the lovely terrain of his Uncle's front yard, and he knew that soon they would want to meander through it when the sun began to set. He had often done the same, it being his only escape from reality at times. And it always helped him to focus on trying to hang on until something better did come along. The car stopped before the magnificent edifice that was the mansion itself. Columns lined the passageway to the porch and were accompanied by varying statues between them. The porch was supported in the same manner wrapping itself around the sides of the huge building before them. Statues had been affixed between each column all different in size and shape. Majestic steps rose proudly to the porch bidding its own welcome to those who would visit. The building itself was a lofty sight to see with three stories of the main part of the mansion that housed many windows of variable shapes and sizes allowing for much light to enter the spacious rooms. Many of the outer rooms of the mansion housed balconies upon which one could step out and enjoy the lovely sunrises and sunsets, or the view of the front yard. A few of these were arranged with patio furniture, tables with umbrellas and so on. Bruce turned to Greg with a large grin his eyebrows raised in surprise and excitement. "I could get used to this," he commented to the man on his right. The doctor chuckled nodding in agreement. "So, could I." "Just wait 'till you see the inside," Jonathan piped and then the corners of his lips were turned up in a broad grin of satisfaction at their reactions to the sight. "Oh, I'm ready, Jon. You lead the way, babe." Bruce motioned for the door that the chauffeur opened for them. Jonathan stepped out waiting for them to join him. A brisk of warm breeze whisked around him causing his hair to float on its gentle currents. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the heated sunlight that was baring down upon him. And at the moment, all memories of his Uncle had fled him, giving way to the thrill of bringing his new family to what he had basically grown up in, even though the accommodations for him were much different just months ago. He would no longer have to abide by those ruined walls and cramped living space that once was his. Instead, he had the choice of any room he desired to reside in, the thought of that excited him even more, to actually be able to live like a decent human being in his Uncle's mansion. Hmm…He smiled again. This was all his now and he could live like a king. A wave of sensation rippled through his body as he stepped around the car leading the procession of men toward the front door. For the first time in his life he actually felt a freedom he had never really experienced before. It seemed to be accentuated by the occasional gusts of wind that carried his hair to one side as they went. As they approached the front door, it opened revealing a stately man in a black tux and white shirt, gloves the whole nine yards. "Mr. Bowman, what a pleasant surprise. We have made your accommodations ready; dinner will be served promptly at 5, sir. And welcome home, sir." The middle-aged man spoke eloquently to Jonathan in a smooth monotone. His graying hair added to the distinction of his appearance along with the dark richness of his healthy skin. "Thank you, Forrest. It's good to be home again." Jonathan seemed to ignore him, though he spoke to him politely, his attentions on the interior that he remembered all too well. The foyer was magnificent in its depth and height. The cathedral ceilings had a multitude of skylights cleverly placed to allow both the sun and moonlight to filter through and add further deepness to the shadows. Large ficus and fern plants were situated in a variety of spots surrounded by smaller pots of showy four o'clocks, and desert sunflowers and lilies. Interspersed between the skylights were crossbeams of sandalwood that threw into relief the muted washes of the creamy walls. The crenellated scrollwork was original and not a dust mote could be seen. A silver salver on a small antique table was situated to the right of the door, to hold calling and business cards of those entering its portals. Jon noted that there were quite a few piling up, mostly condolences he supposed, mail he would have to go through at some point and answer. Men who would want to continue business and men who would be interested in looking Jon up for a continuation of their former relationship. But Jon had news for them. All of them. Standing before the men, as Bruce and Greg gaped open-mouthed in surprise were the two staircases one on each side of the vast foyer. The carved banisters of the same light sandalwood were ornate in detail, intricate carvings of cherubs and nymphs eating grapes and playing instruments threaded up both sides. The treads were highly polished and bare of any other ornamentation. Discreet sconces were strategically placed in wall recesses every few feet to add low lights up to the open balcony on the second floor, the house then dispersed into two separate wings. The fieldstone floor added to the coolness inherently necessary for such a high heat area. A large oriental throw rug was scattered in muted tones of blues, blacks and tans that accented and pulled together all of the décor. An antique roll desk was highlighted along the back wall of the curving staircases, highly burnished and containing old fashioned writing instruments on its surface. On either side were two life-sized replicas of Michelangelo's David, the sheer smoothness of the marble and the poignancy of his features were in evidence. Whoever had recreated the works had a masterful touch, was Greg's thought as he wandered over to stroke a thigh. Suspended from the highest point of the ceiling was an old chandelier that easily had a thousand crystal beads that threaded down to about six inches each in little cascading falls of the four tiers. They glistened in the sunlight and with the soft sway of a distant breeze, caused the hall to dance with exploding bursts of light that quickly reshaped and reformed as the prisms shifted. Every once in awhile, a brief rainbow was captured on the wall before melting away. Jon knew that it was a costly piece and extremely heavy. Just to clean it once a year was an all day process requiring four people to maneuver it, two to work the crank gently to lower it and two servants to guide it to about two feet off the floor, so they could polish the gleaming brass finish and fixtures. A careful blend of soft solvents was used to wash the beads. "Mr. Bowman, if you will not be requiring my services, I should like to resume the last of the preparations for you and your friends, sir." Forrest spoke drawing Jonathan out of his musings of the moment. "Yes, Forrest." He sighed tearing his eyes off the chandelier. "But before you do, would you see if Cora has anything prepared for us for lunch? I'm very hungry, and I know my family is too. Just something light, being it's so close to dinner." "Yes, sir. Of course, sir." The man bent slightly before turning to leave them. "Oh, and Forrest…" The man halted his forward motion pivoting on the ball of a foot to face him once again. "Sir?" "I'll be in my Uncle's office, would you mind bringing our lunches there, please?" Jonathan gave him that boyish grin that always caused the man to return it cheerfully, and now was no different. "Of course not, sir." He beamed suddenly in affect of Jonathan's charming appearance. "Good." He breathed in excitedly. "Come on, guys. You've gotta see this." Jonathan then raced to the stairs on the right bounding upward hurriedly. Bruce and Greg rushed to catch up with him, but thankfully Tony and Peter knew their way to the late Mr. Bowman's office/room. And when they arrived at the room Jonathan had already moved past the sitting area and office to the huge double doors that separated them from the very bedroom the man had once slept in as well as had many fulfilling moments with Jonathan and Tony. These doors were very large with intricately crafted molding that drew attention to the artfully placed vines and large leaves. The base of the round knobs on each were at least a hand width in diameter all the way around and gleaming polished brass. Jonathan slid them open, taking in the familiar view of his uncle's bedroom. To the right was the large bed that he recalled more than anything else present there. The four tall posts were engraved and embossed with the same vines and leaves as the doors. The artwork extended into the headboard and footboard. It was neatly made with a handsome southwestern spread, skirt and piles of throw pillows of bright colors attractively placed at the head of the bed. And Jonathan knew that beneath the coverlet were the satin sheets he recalled so well. On each side of the bed there was a pedestal upon which a round glass top rested. One had the cordless phone on which Jim had screamed at Tony about Maurice's blunders in Russia; beside it was an elegant touch lamp with a hand-painted glass shade of southwestern designs. A huge southwestern sun hung on the wall over the headboard; a hand-painted face smiled down at Jonathan who stood at the foot of the bed. He stood remembering the many acts that had taken place there between him and his uncle, especially the ones, which were the most pleasant and erotic for him. Those had been the nights when Mr. Bowman seemed actually human, and his sanity was intact. The oversized walk-in closet was across the room, filled with Mr. Bowman's entire wardrobe, a sizable luxurious bathroom next to it. Not far from the bed was the large jewel cabinet that stood almost as tall as Jonathan was. Its top was level with the young man's chest and it was as slim as he. The top could be lifted, revealing the divided cushion slats where many rings were lined neatly in rows between the slats. The front was a door that opened revealing the many drawers with more slatted cushions, and compartments in which thousands of dollars worth of jewelry still rested unmolested or disturbed. Jonathan opened the second drawer reaching as far back as he could manage feeling around to find a secret compartment that he lifted the velvet bag out of. Pulling it out, he turned to find Bruce standing at the door watching him carefully. "C'me 'ere, Bruce. I want to show this to you." He beckoned excitedly with a wave of his hand. Smiling at the expression on the young man's face he approached until he stood before him. Jonathan then took one of his hands in his own, turning the palm up where he poured the large heavy diamond into it. Bruce's face suddenly went blank with almost disbelief of the weight and reality of it. Lifting it with the other hand he gave utter attention to it, studying it fully. "It's beautiful, Jon." He muttered as his fingers slowly scrutinized the cut of the piece attentively. "Isn't it, though?" Jonathan chimed with exuberance at Bruce's response. "And it's ours, Bruce. Yours, mine, Greg's, Tony's and Peter's. It belongs to us now, one of the rarest ruby diamonds is now, all ours." Jonathan seemed to be trying to convince himself of the fact as if it hadn't really sunk in yet. "Yes, Jon. But for some odd reason, I think it should belong solely to you. It seems to hold something special for you. So, you keep it for yourself." Tears formed in his eyes at hearing Bruce say this to him. And it did hold a momentous amount of specialty to Jon, being that his uncle had actually spent the entire day with him showing him his business, interacting with him civilly, and had treated him as if he truly loved him without a doubt. It was the very same day he had shown the diamond to him and told him it was his when his time was ended, the self same day that he told Jonathan numerous times how much he loved him, why and that he was his favorite nephew. This was also the very day Jim had cancelled all of the appointments he had and that Jonathan was supposed to have with certain of the many callers for Jon's favors. Bruce dropped the jewel back into the bag giving it back to Jon who secured it in its hiding place once more. When it was done he gently grasped his upper arms pulling the young man to him loosely holding him for a long moment. "I love you, Jon. I may not understand your grief or the reasons for it, but I still love you regardless. And no matter how long it takes or what you have to do to get through this, I'm behind you all the way." Bruce whispered close to his ear. Jonathan pulled back only an inch or so still wanting to be near him yet felt he might be imposing upon the man. Bruce leaned his head down a little coming very close to Jon's lips. "Whenever you're ready to talk about whatever has been bothering you, I'm more than willing and ready to listen, babe." He informed Jonathan softly. Jonathan nodded bringing up a hand to wipe the wetness from his now drenched face. He knew what Bruce meant without having to ask but he just wasn't sure he understood it himself. How could he express it if he didn't even know what he was talking about? How would he tell him when he had no idea what was going on inside him or what he thought he was seeing from time to time lately? The silence that hung around them for the moment made Jonathan feel very uncomfortable, as if Bruce waited to hear an explanation. But when the man lightly pressed his lips to Jon's he realized suddenly that it wasn't meant to make him feel this way at all. He also realized in the same instant how much he had missed this sort of contact with this man, not having any in the last month. He leaned into him fully giving himself to his kiss, opening to him at the same moment he did. The feel of Bruce's arms enclosing him in their protective embrace soothed his ravenous craving for just that, to feel protected by Bruce as well as loved and needed as he had all this time he had lived with him and Greg. And the longer the kiss lingered the tighter Bruce's arms drew him in and the more impassioned the kiss became. They heard someone clear his throat finally. "Sir, I do beg your pardon for the intrusion, but you have a caller downstairs. Shall I send him away, sir?" Jonathan felt highly frustrated as he pried himself from Bruce's body. The lingered gazed into the man's face and eyes pleaded with him to give him more of the same as soon as he returned, and yet not a word was spoken between them as Bruce nodded his answer to him in silence. "Who is it, Forrest?" Jonathan was so tempted to have the man sent away. But Jim had taught him better. If the man made the effort to come all this way to visit, he should at least go down to see him. "A Mr. Preston, sir." Now Jon's head snapped to the direction of Forrest's voice. "No, Forrest, I'll see him." He seemed urgent to do just that suddenly as he started toward the butler. "Sir, whatever reason he has called, can wait for a more opportune time." Forrest now tried to reason seeing the evidence of grief yet on the young man's face. "You have only just laid your uncle to rest, and I'm certain that Mr. Preston not only has an unreasonable request of you, but one that can wait." Jonathan halted his forward motion giving thought to that. And he had no ill feelings toward the butler's concern for him so openly before his family, due to the relationship they had forged long ago when he first was brought to live at the mansion with his uncle. Forrest was the first to befriend him and took care of him well, until Tony had arrived, followed by Peter, who became his personal bodyguard and nursemaid. But even when Tony and Peter were absent, off doing whatever it was Jim sent them to do, Forrest always stepped in to take up their slack. He cared for Forrest as much as the butler cared for him. They had a long-standing bond that would always prove itself through the years and events that came. "He's right, Jon." Bruce had come up behind him placing gentle hands on the young man's shoulders. "You're in no condition to be seeing anyone of your uncle's business partners just yet. Give it a little more time and all of that will fall into place." "Yes." The butler agreed. "You must care for yourself before you will be capable of properly caring for your business associates." Forrest was now showing the care he so felt for Jon in his statement. Jonathan sighed. "Then tell him I will call him when I'm able to see him, would you, Forrest?" he rescinded his troubled and indecisive confused thoughts to those that loved him so. "It would be a pleasure, sir." The man's countenance seemed to return to its formal self as he spoke, and then turned to perform the given duty. As he started through the door one of Cora's servants was on her way in with a long stainless steel cart that housed several silver domes covered platter atop it. "Oh, good." Jonathan perked suddenly. "Lunch is here. Let's go out onto the balcony to eat, guys." He led the way to the double glass doors in the sitting room/office. Opening them he went to the large round table over which an umbrella shielded it from the direct heat of the sun, sitting in the large cushioned wicker chair his uncle would have claimed. The rest of his family joined him at the table as the servant wheeled the cart out behind them. She wiped down the thick glass top table, and then began to serve them iced tea to drink while she prepared a plate for each of them. Jonathan happened to look down from where he sat to see Mr. Preston standing at the passenger door of his car looking up at him. He could see the evident concern for him written on the man's face and the old confusion returned. Knowing Bruce and Forrest were right he couldn't help the growing feeling that he should at least say hello to him. "I'll be right back." He stood rushing around the table disappearing into the room. At an almost run, he raced to the front door jerking it open, to continue toward the man and his car at a more moderate pace. Mr. Preston beamed now as he started toward him meeting him underneath the covered walkway, hidden from view of Jon's family upstairs. "Jonathan." He encircled him in a sympathetic hug. "I do apologize for coming on such short notice, but I had to just see for myself if the rumors were true." "Rumors? What rumors?" Jon pulled back from his embrace staring long into his eyes. "It's going around that you've begun to act just like your uncle, son. Please tell me they're all exaggerated." He pleaded the last urgently. Jon half laughed motioning for him to join him for a walk in the front garden. "I'm struggling with it at times, but I'm fighting it, Mr. Preston." "You can't do that, Jon. You can't let Jim become a part of you. His legacy has to die along with him or you will never have any kind of peace." The man spoke as they meandered across the driveway and into the garden leisurely. "I know, Mr. Preston. And I'm really trying." Jon returned almost inaudibly. "Good. You're better than that snake and I know your mother would be proud of you…" "You knew my mother?" Jonathan stopped abruptly, facing the man. A slow almost deceptive grin graced the man's face. "Mr. Preston, please don't play games with my heart right now. I just can't…" Jonathan rushed on ahead hiding the sudden tears that came again. A Timeless Place Ch. 07 The man stood watching Jonathan realizing the extent of his true grief. It was almost startling to him that the young man would even think of being so bereaved for such an undeserving soul as Mr. James Bowman. Yet, he had to remind himself that Jon had lived with the man most of his life, knowing no other than James. As he stood scrutinizing him for a long moment realizing that emotional state Jon was in. It occurred to him that possibly now wasn't the time to tell him the truth about his natural parents, being it would only confound his instability more. He looked down thinking on it and how he should now smooth this over with the kid. The last thing he had meant to do was cause him more pain and grief. Slowly he meandered to the young man who was reduced to tears. Slipping an arm about his shoulders he became flummoxed when Jonathan turned willfully burying his face in his jacket. Easing his arms around him brought back some very pleasant memories of this excitingly sensual being. He struggled to maintain some sort of reasonable tact as he held him. His eyes lifted to the balcony from where Jon had been with his family. Tony was on his feet leaning on his hands that gripped the railing taut. He was watching like the hawk he is, and of course Mr. Preston had expected it. Bruce, Greg and Peter were trying not to be so obvious. But, he could see them each glance over at him from time to time, paying close attention to him and Jon. And it was obvious these men were more than protective of him. "Jon, you should go back inside and finish your meal with your friends. They seem a little concerned about you being down here alone with a stranger." He offered. "You're not a stranger, Mr. Preston." Jon backed up wiping his face with his hands. "Not to you, but to them, I am." He paused giving him that gentle smile that Jonathan enjoyed so very much. "And besides, we don't want them thinking that I have lecherous intentions with you." Now Jonathan laughed. "Oh, that would be out of character for you, wouldn't it?" he teased. Mr. Preston chuckled at his wit. "Forgive me if I find you just so irresistibly desirable." "Well, thank you, Mr. Preston. But, I must inform you now, that those days are over for me. I do not intend to resume much of my uncle's business with any of his clients." "I had thought as much, which is why I haven't asked, Jonathan. You're your own man now. Your uncle's business should change now that it all belongs to you. But, if you should ever need my assistance, I'm more than willing to give it." "Thank you. I'll remember that if I find myself in a tight spot." Jonathan grinned as he watched the man thoroughly with his poker face, not revealing anything of his emotions. "Let me walk you back to your car and I'll comply with your suggestion." He motioned a hand politely toward the car, evidence of James Bowman showing through. Mr. Preston nodded starting slowly toward his car. "You're your own man, Jonathan. One James Bowman was almost too much for this world to deal with. Another may cause it to go into a tailspin." He jested though he was serious. Jonathan laughed again feeling some old stirrings for this man once more. He was one of the very small numbers of men that he never minded giving his services to. They had actually formed a close bond in that he was able to express himself however he felt with each visit. And often times, Mr. Preston had only wanted his company rather than the physical aspects of their relationship. He took note of the fact that his news to Mr. Preston hadn't seemed to bother him at all. This caused him to trust him even more than he had before. He had trusted him in the past with comments and news of his daily life with his uncle, of which none of it had ever gotten back to Jim from the beginning. There had been things he had told Mr. Preston that he had not even begun to voice to his family. And he felt there was no need to upset them now that his uncle was dead. "Joshua," he halted looking up at the balcony where Tony was keeping a watchful eye on them. "What's on your mind, Jonathan?" the man stopped smiling at him, knowing something had been there. He also knew that when Jonathan called him by his first name, he was about to hear something most secret from the kid. "If I told you something a little crazy, you won't think I'm psycho will you?" Jon's brow was furrowed as he asked. Mr. Preston laughed. "Jon, you know I hear off the wall secrets on an hourly basis, daily. Why should I think you psychotic?" He commented staring into his eyes long and seriously then. A Timeless Place Ch. 08 Mr. Preston gazed long into Jon's eyes after hearing from his own mouth that he had recently been seeing his uncle. Breaking his stare, he glanced up at the balcony once more wondering what they had thought about this, or if Jonathan had even told them. "Joshua, please don't make me feel silly or crazy. I'm serious about this." Jon tried to keep his cool and not grab the man's arm, as he wanted to do. "It's fine, Jon. You don't need to worry about it. It's all probably nothing more than a subconscious desire hidden deep inside you that you may not even realize just now," he looked back at Jonathan giving him a smile as best he could. "You haven't told them, have you?" "No." Jonathan moved closer to the car and away from Mr. Preston. "Jonathan." The man followed him, urgent to express his meaning. "You can't hide this from them if they care for you as I suspect they do. Let them help you carry this, at least. It's a burden you don't need to pack around on your own, son." "I can't worry them with this, Joshua. They would probably think I'm nuts anyway. They already think I'm crazy for even grieving over Jim like I am," he turned to face the man speaking low so those upstairs couldn't hear him. "Have you talked to this apparition?" Mr. Preston asked now. "No! What, do you think I'm crazy too? Hell no, I ain't talked to it." Jonathan started out loudly, then quieted his voice cringing that he had most likely alerted Tony to them, who by now, had disappeared from the balcony. Mr. Preston opened the passenger's side door turning to Jonathan as Tony came out the front door of the mansion. He shrugged "Maybe you should..." his grin and wink told Jonathan that he was joking, yet serious. Jonathan laughed as he watched Mr. Preston close his door. Backing away, he looked on, as the car slowly move around the drive and back down the path to the main road at the end. "You didn't tell him, Mr. Preston." The driver asked as he drove them out of sight of Jonathan and Tony. "He's not ready, Charles. When he is I'll tell him, but not a moment before." Mr. Preston became suddenly irritable. The driver only nodded in answer leaving his thoughts to himself. Tony's gentle hand brought him back to reality being placed on his shoulder. "You about ready to eat, or do I have to force feed you again?" The man fussed teasingly. Jonathan turned to him grinning, "That might be fun. Can I resist just a little?" "Hmm." The man grinned wryly at him. "Are you possibly wantin' some attention, or is that your hand in your pocket, I see?" "No, not my hand, Tony. But, you know that, don't you?" Jonathan's expression seemed to suddenly fade to a more serious look. "Yes, Jonathan. And you know I'm always ready when you are." The man surrounded him in his arms planting his lips to the young man's abruptly. Jonathan moaned at the feel of Tony's power and control over him. He thrilled in the sensations he felt as the man's one hand clutched the back of his head, the other firmly moving down his back and over his bottom. There it pressed him taut to him while he plundered Jonathan's mouth with mastery and urgency. Leaning forward a bit, Jonathan allowed his arms to dangle giving his lover the sense of utter control over him, which he knew would heighten Tony's experience even more. The trust between them was all that kept Jonathan from hanging onto the man for dear life. As abruptly as he began, he clinched a handful of hair yanking Jonathan's head back. Staring into his face for a moment he could see the young man was up for some rough treatment, at which he would gladly oblige. Pulling him up straight with him, he forced him ahead of him while he pushed him to move toward the door by the hair. "Get yer ass upstairs, boy. You an' me got somethin' to talk about." His tone was gruff and brash. Jonathan giggled at his authority, only to rouse him more. "Yer laughing at me?" He suddenly halted, jerking Jonathan back to his body grasping his lower jaw tight, his fingers biting into his flesh meanly. "You think this is funny? You just wait till I get you upstairs, boy. You won't think it's so funny then." "Oh, I hope not, Tony." Jonathan boldly let him know what he really wanted with his emphasis and the seriousness in his tone and expression. "Well hell, baby. If you needed it that bad, you only had to say so." Tony's breathing elevated slightly at the daring way Jonathan was staring at him. It was as if he would defy him to go further than they had ever gone in the many times they had simulated a rape, or just played the master/slave role with each other. Tony had always been cautious with Jonathan, not wanting to injure him, or cause him pain, or at least more pain than he could stand. But, now it seemed Jonathan would challenge him to go beyond that with him now. "I won't hurt you, Jonathan." He warned. "Did I ask you to?" The young man fired back quickly. Tony's eyes narrowed at the mixed signals Jonathan was sending him now. Knowing the young man the way he did, he surmised he was only playing this game to incite him further. "Get up those stairs, boy." He finally shoved Jonathan ahead, still grasping a handful of hair tight. Jonathan moved quickly up toward the door, pushing it open, starting toward the banister. "Oh, my." Forrest halted in his tracks coming from the south wing. "Sir!" he called out to Tony in exasperation of what he saw and his deep concern for Master Jonathan. "Its fine, Forrest. We're just playing a game, ok?" Jonathan quickly assured him that no harm was being done. At the moment, Tony was keeping Jonathan an arm length away pushing him up the steps to the second floor with haste. "Are you sure, sir?" The man needed more affirmation than was given at the moment. "I promise, Forrest. It's only a game. Nothing to worry about." Jonathan couldn't look back at the man, but followed the lead of Tony's rough guidance that didn't seem to care that Forrest was upset by the sight of this. They disappeared into the south wing of the second floor, away from Mr. Bowman's old room and the family. "Sir, we haven't finished preparing that wing!" Forrest called up to them from where they stood. "It's fine, Forrest." He heard Jonathan call back to him. Shrugging, the man then went on about his business. Tony led him to the room he used to reside in when he was working undercover there. Pushing the door open hard, he shoved Jonathan toward the sheet covered room. Everything had been covered once news of Mr. Bowman's death had reached the help. Supposing that it might be a long while before anyone would reside there again, the servants had gone about each room covering mirrors, furniture and the like. They locked up the walk-in freezer and the refrigerator was practically cleaned out. They presumed there was no sense in leaving good vegetables and such to rot. Jonathan kept his footing, barely, standing straight and would have turned to face his lover of the moment when Mr. Bowman caught his eye in a corner near the closet. This was a room the man had frequented when Tony lived here before and it stood to reason; Jonathan would see him there now. He gasped coming up on his toes as he caught himself teetering forward once more. When he caught his balance again, he stood staring at the man in the corner long. Again, he was the same as he had seen him in his coffin, wearing the dark olive green Italian suit he had been buried in. Yet, his eyes were open and he smiled at Jonathan, standing in the corner as if he had never died. Tony halted suddenly as Jonathan gasped; he reached for him, as he appeared to almost fall face foreword to the floor. Then as the young man steadied himself, he watched as every ounce of color faded from Jonathan's face. "What's wrong, Jonathan?" He muttered to him slowly coming up close behind him. "What do you want from me?" Jonathan bellowed at the empty corner that Tony had looked at following the direction of his stare. "Jonathan!" Tony reached for his shoulder just as he spun taking to a run out the door they had come in. He glanced back at the corner squinting to see if he could see anything there, but saw nothing. What had Jonathan seen that was now upsetting him so? Then the sudden thought of Jonathan's upset possibly driving him to do something more than dangerous to himself if not foolish at that, forced him to ignore whatever it had been that upset him. He raced after him not seeing the direction he had gone in. Jonathan had disappeared completely by the time he made it to the balcony over the foyer. Rushing ahead, he crashed open the doors of the room the rest of them were in and ran out onto the balcony. "Jonathan saw something in my old room! Now he's loose in the mansion. I need help to find him fast!" he voiced breathlessly. "What on earth could he have seen, Tony?" Greg asked standing to his feet. "I have no idea, but he yelled at whatever it was." He shrugged feeling a little helpless to explain it to them. "What did he yell, Tony?" Peter asked then, very calmly doing so. "He said, 'what do you want from me'!" Tony answered in the same way Jonathan had made the outcry. "Who is he talking to, Peter?" Greg looked to him for confirmation of his suspicions. "I would deduce that it would be his uncle." Peter sedately answered. "Hm." Greg nodded at the same moment Bruce groaned to himself as he stood. "Let's find the boy and see if we can manage to get some straight answers from him." "Bruce, you cannot push him. Trust me on this, my friend." Peter placed an assuring hand on his shoulder as they moved toward the door. The man nodded, then parted ways with him to search the entire mansion for Jonathan. ***** Jonathan bounded down the stairs to the alcove between the two banisters. Pressing a certain spot on the wall a short small door popped open. Bending down, he stepped into the secret passageway that led to what had once been his own room. Closing the door and with no lighting in the cramped space, he carefully made his way down the sloped floor to the opening to the right. He groped at the wall for the doorknob for a moment before he turned it stepping into his tiny space of a room. Flipping the switch, he could see the servants hadn't touched it since he left. The bed against the far wall to the right was still mussed from its last use. The chest of drawers on his immediate left still had his radio and cassette player sitting atop it where he left it. Pressing the play button an old familiar song by Pink Floyd began to play that added to the desperate emotions he felt at the moment. Moving past the chest of drawers he opened the far door going into his even smaller bathroom. He looked in the mirror at himself for a moment seeing the strained look of worry written there on his face. With both hands he grasped the mirror/medicine cabinet pulling it forward a bit. Out fell a tiny syringe and baggie, along with a razor. Hordes of thoughts were pummeling him at the moment. He was warring with most of them at the sight of the petite baggie and syringe. It had slipped his mind they had been stashed there, the razor being his goal of the moment alone. Yet, he stood there staring at the sight in the sink below the cabinet. Shoving it back into place, he reached with trembling hands. The first he lifted from the basin was the syringe. "Jonathan." He heard close behind him. The sense of warmth flooded him at the soft sound of his uncle's gentle voice. "You know that's not what you need, my love." Now, the feel of his arms surrounding him followed. "This is all you need." He breathed into his ear. "Why are you here, Uncle Jim? Why do I keep seeing you? You're dead!" his muttering voice quivered with his emotions. "Hmm..." he could literally feel the man resting his cheek on the top of his head beginning to sway with him gently. "Oh, I just need to fix a few things is all, my love. Now, put that away and come lie down with me." He coaxed in his soft manner when he wanted something from Jonathan. The young man's hands trembled even more as he attempted to place them back in their hiding place. Once he had crudely done so, he felt his hand being grasped lovingly and watched as what appeared to be the solid form of Jim led him into the tiny room. They maneuvered to the bed where he settled, pulling Jonathan there with him. The young man was hesitant, but complied with Jim's wishes, not sure what he meant to do. As he came near, the man curled his arms about him lightly combing the loose strands of hair from his face with his fingers. Then he continued to caress his cheek, lulling him. Jonathan struggled to remain awake under his gentle ministrations, but it was to no avail. He soon was fast asleep in Jim's arms cuddled against the far wall. ***** That was where Tony finally found him, fast asleep in his old room on his bed. He was curled against the far wall in a ball seeming to almost hug his knees to his chest. It seemed an odd position for him to be in, but he was there like that none the less. He moved past the bed to the bathroom to see if he could find any bloodstains of any kind. What he did find was the medicine cabinet barely in the wall. Playing with it for a moment, the contraband spilled into the sink. The man groaned long and angrily to himself as he turned toward the room where Bruce now stood staring at the young man. "Come look at this, Bruce." He softly beckoned to him so as not to wake Jonathan. Bruce brushed past the chest of drawers almost side stepping to get past it. Following Tony into the bathroom, the man sat on the toilet looking up at him as Bruce's face became washed of color. "That could've been here before, Tony." He commented, not wanting to believe what he was implying. "But the cabinet has been pulled out, Bruce. I know this kid, okay? Remember that." "I know him too, Tony. And I refuse to believe he would, not before asking him first. If I can see he's lying, I'll believe it then. But not before." He grumbled quietly." "You're right. I guess I'm just looking for a reason to why he's seeing things now." Tony lowered his head. "He's grieving, Tony. There's some things he misses about his uncle that you or I may never understand. But we have to support him, no matter what." Bruce explained gently. He placed a kind hand on the man's shoulder giving it an assuring squeeze. "Should we let him sleep?" he asked then. "I don't know. Maybe until dinner, he still hasn't eaten yet." Tony expressed quietly. "Okay, let's put this back in its place. No." he gathered the items up holding them carefully. "Let's not do that. I can use some precautions." A gentle smile graced his face as he and Tony moved out of the bathroom and then the room. ***** Jonathan stirred slowly hearing a noise from somewhere in the room. Turning onto his back he looked to see Tony pulling out drawers emptying them on the bed, then replacing the drawers right after. "What are you doin', Tony!" he sat up immediately flummoxed that he would be going through his personal belongings without asking. "This is not your room anymore, Jon. Bruce told me to empty out your stuff and bring it all upstairs," he continued to work as he talked. "Oh, ok. Let me help you with that." Jonathan moved off the bed to the floor beside him. "No, you march yer ass upstairs and eat yer dinner like a good little boy." Tony turned to face him fully his hands parked on his hips. "Now, young man!" he then turned his back to the chest pointing to the door with a large grin on his face. "Yes, sir. But..." "No buts kid. Dad's orders. You have to go up as soon as you woke up," the man informed him gently then. "Oh, all right..." Jonathan now appeared the part of a scolded child as he leaned his head forward pressing past the man. Their bodies came into full contact as he did, in which Tony grasped his face in his hands connecting their mouths fully. This kiss was urgently long. Jonathan clung to him desperately as he turn, following Tony's lead. And when the young man's back was to the door, he pulled back from the kiss staring into his face. "I love you, Jonathan. I know things are a little hard and strange for you right now, but you remember that I and everyone else here loves you desperately. You have no reason to do anything rash when you're upset, you hear? Talk to us. We want to hear what's going on inside that head of yers." He jabbed his finger at Jonathan's head poking it lightly. "Tony, if I told you half of what goes on inside my head, you'd lock me up in the loony bin-" "We would not, Jonathan. That's a lie from hell itself. Don't you think all of us don't have strange thoughts pop into our minds now and then? But we have to take it all with a grain of salt and weight them against the facts before we act on them. Everyone thinks something weird or different once in a while. Why do you think Columbus had so much trouble getting the world to believe he wasn't insane when he announced the world was round? And they thought Einstein was pretty weird too, at the time, you know." Jonathan laughed, "Well, I'm not Columbus or Einstein, so I have to take what I can get." "What's that s'posed to mean, Jonathan? You have everything right here at yer fingertips, or have we all taken second place in yer life now?" Tony's face was strained with obvious hurt that Jonathan couldn't bare to look into. Jonathan turned away starting for the door, "Tony, the day you guys take second place in my life is the day I die, you hear me?" he turned to the man saying as he reached the threshold. Then he disappeared leaving the man to do what he as asked to do. A Timeless Place Ch. 09 Jonathan meandered back up the banister to his uncle's room. Upon entry it was darker than he had thought it would be, he thinking Bruce would be there. A shudder came over him suddenly causing his hair to stand erect on his arms and the back of his neck. "Uncle Jim?" he muttered softly waiting for an answer. When none came, he gave a few quick disconcerting jerks of his head, then stepped out of the room going back downstairs. "This is really stupid." He argued to himself while he went. "What is it, sir?" Forrest's voice snapped the young man out of his musings. "Where's Bruce and Greg?" he looked up at the butler with such an expression of confusion and uncertainty. "They are in the dining room waiting for you, sir." The man answered with an uncompromising look of propriety on his face. "Thanks, Forrest." Jonathan flashed that boyish grin at him causing his face to instantly break into a gleaming smile. He giggled, as he knew what he had done to the man. Making his way into the dining room, he almost tried to sneak in undiscovered, but knew that wouldn't work. Having Tony empty his drawers in his little space of a room where his uncle once forced him to live, told him that Bruce was putting his foot down already about a few things. "Jonathan." The man seemed surprised to see him already. "I looked for you upstairs, but I…" Jonathan pointed over his shoulder nervously as he spoke, but was quickly cut off. "It's ok, Jon. Sit. Please. Eat your dinner. We all know you have to be starving by now." The man folded his arms across his chest, another signal that he was quite unhappy with him at the moment. Nervously, Jonathan pulled the chair out sitting quietly. The server began to ensure his plate was filled with piping hot food. "Eat, Jonathan." Peter leaned toward the center of the table as Jon stared at the plate long and silently. With a timid nod, he lifted his fork beginning to lightly nibble. "Tony and Peter tells me that used to be your room when your uncle was alive." Bruce softly began. "Yes, sir." Jon lifted his eyes drawing a long breath in silently, which he held longer in waiting. Bruce sighed, one of his eyebrows lifting somewhat. "I really don't think it's very accommodating, do you?" he looked briefly over at the young man noticing he had yet to begin to eat, as he should. "Not really, no." Jonathan agreed with a nod. "Well, why don't you pick one of the other rooms to call your own. You've got the whole damn mansion you could choose from. Why go there in the first place? I thought you said there were areas of this mansion that brought you some seriously bad memories, anyway. Isn't that room one of those areas?" "Yes, sir." Jonathan nodded again, the only thing he knew to do was agree. He had no idea how to explain what he was feeling. "Ok, so you're gonna choose a different room, aren'tchya?" the man asked as a statement. "Yes, sir." "That's wonderful, Jonathan." Bruce smiled at him. "Eat, boy. You must be really hungry." He waved a hand at him as he watched Jon once more begin to nibble. "Tony found some stuff in your sink, too. Looked like you had tried to put it back in the wall around the medicine cabinet." He threw out now. Jonathan stopped what he was doing, looking at the man, his face suddenly being drained of all color. "You're not using are you, Jonathan?" the sound of his voice was confident about the fact, which threw the young man off completely. "No, sir. It was some old stuff that had been there from before." His voice broke, but he got it out anyway. Still, he didn't say a word about the temptation he had had; thinking it might cause Bruce to perhaps loose that confidence he had in him at the moment. "I thought so. But, what were you after then? Why did you pull the cabinet out of the wall?" the man didn't seem to be turning this loose at all and Jonathan was so uncertain himself of what he meant to do. "I don't remember now." He looked down at his cooling plate of food as he answered. Bruce half laughed. "Jon, I hope you don't expect me to believe that." "No, sir. I don't." the young man shook his head in negative motion slowly, still starring into the plate. He sighed heavily then. "I guess I was just…" he halted in mid-sentence knowing what he was about to say just wouldn't make any sense to them at all. "I've been seeing my uncle lately." But he said it anyway. Silence filled the room hanging around him in such a thick cloud that he thought he would suffocate from it. It felt as if it was drifting down around him encompassing everything in its path. Invisible fingers seemed to gather around his throat, gripping him so tight, he just couldn't breathe at all. "Jonathan, I know you're having a really tough time, lately." Bruce's expression was filled with circumspect contemplation. "And I know you don't understand what you're feeling or even think you might be seeing lately. But, I just want you to know we all love you and want to help you through this. There's no reason for you to feel you can't tell us what you see or even hear, or think you might be seeing." "I swear I'm not crazy, Bruce!" Jon leaned toward him saying emphatically. "We know that, Jonathan." It appeared to be common knowledge, or silly of him to think they might suspect that he was. "I saw it, Bruce! I didn't think I saw it! And in the little room, I felt him! He was real to me!" the young man was talking so fast, his words became one with no separations. His eyes and face were the very expression of his innermost being of the moment. Bruce just gazed at him for a long moment trying to make sense of what the youth was saying. The verbal delivery was a conglomerate of sounds that just seemed to buzz past his ears and thought processes at a high rate of speed. "Bruce, I'm not crazy." Jonathan looked down at his plate again. His tone was solemn. "No, Jon. You're not crazy. Confused, I think. But not at all crazy." The man's head bobbed a little as he tried to convey his thoughts to him. "I do want you to see a therapist, Jon. Would you agree to that for me?" he now expressed to him softly. "Sure, I already said I would." The young man reminded him of the conversation that was had in the big truck about that. "Yes, you did. But, being we're in Arizona, I'll have to talk to my friend about one here. And you'll be seeing this one right away, Jonathan. No missed appointments either, do you hear me?" "Yes, sir." Jonathan's eyes filled as he began to feel that the man really did believe he might be insanely seeing his uncle, hearing his voice speak to him, feeling the man touching him again. He couldn't blame him; all of this was insane anyway. No one in their right mind would be seeing his dead uncle wandering around, or hearing him whispering into his ear, or even feeling his hands grasp his or his arm. He wouldn't be feeling the man's body up close to him again, or the light gentle brushes of his fingertips moving hair from his face. "Jonathan, are you alright?" Greg asked softly. "Ye…" the young man's voice broke. Clearing his throat, he tried again, but the same thing happened. "What's wrong, Jon?" Bruce now became concerned. The boy only shook his head negatively as he stood silently. "Jonathan, sit down and finish your dinner, please." Bruce was calm, but could see the upset in Jon's face. He watched as a single tear cascaded down his cheek, skittering with some sort of purpose over his skin to only spill haphazardly off his jawline. Jonathan heard him, but he didn't. He turned to the door rushing out before Bruce could even stand to his feet. Slapping a hand over his mouth, he stifled the wail that threatened to fill the mansion. His feet and legs raced up the stairs to the only place he really felt he could go at the moment. "Bruce, he needs help." Greg's face was contorted with worry and concern. "I know. And he'll get it, if it's the last damn thing I do." The man meandered toward the door as he spoke. "Be gentle, my friend. He's teetering on the brink…" Peter warned in his gentle way. Bruce grinned over at him loving the way he spoke. "I will, Peter. I promise." He broke into what the man was saying not wanting him to even speak such an atrocity as the lack of Jon's sanity being even thought of in his presence or outside of it. ***** Jonathan entered his uncle's room once again. Pain filled his chest with the growing realization that his new family actually felt and thought he might be insane. A sudden burst of air rumbled from his body shaking him as it did. He leaned forward careening toward the bedroom doors taking to another sudden run to get there. Along the way, he passed by his uncle's desk some glitter of something caught the corner of his eye suddenly. Stopping in his tracks he turned to slowly meander over to it. Seeming to be catching the moonrays that were coming in through the double glass doors across the room, it seemed especially illuminated at the moment. He moved around the desk, letting his fingertips explore it lightly. The silver cigarette case was resting in the center of the desk, and not where it had been before. It had been almost in the upper corner of the desk and upon looking at the spot it had been in, the thing was obviously moved. The rectangular case was embossed with tiny leaf-like wreath set around the man's initials. And those were in a fancy signature type font that was a very elegant addition to the designing of the case. Each of the two letters overlapped and seemed somewhat intertwined in the others. The tip of his index finger traced the outline of the letters J.B. He distinctly watched his finger make the letters as he retraced them out slowly. The texture of the metal case was smooth and unblemished but for the design that Jim had obviously made himself. Distracted he didn't see Bruce enter the room silently as he picked up the case opening it inertly. He didn't see him watching as he opened it withdrawing one of the many cigarettes that were neatly placed inside. Putting it to his lips, he then took out the streamline lighter, lighting the smoke almost reverently. Once lit, he didn't notice Bruce was observing him carefully as he continued to give notice to the case that once belonged to his late uncle. Jonathan's eyes lifted toward the doors across the way that opened to the balcony. He took in a long deep draw of his uncle's cigarette. It wasn't the cowboy killers that Bruce liked to smoke and he was also partial to, but it was almost the same with its taste and strength. He meandered toward the balcony doors where he opened them stepping out into the cooling evening desert air. Leaving the doors open, he stepped to the railing looking down into the garden that he did love so much. Bruce followed close behind him and stood looking over his shoulder at the garden across the way. "It's so peaceful out here, Jonathan." He muttered to him softly. "It is, Bruce." Jonathan sighed long his hairs standing on end again with the realization that he had been there all the while. "It's ok, Jon. You're ok." He wanted to make sure the kid understood his meaning, as he grasped the young man's upper arms pulling him into his body. "You really think so?" Jon slowly turned his head to look into his face some. "Yes, I do, Jon. You're going through something very difficult. But I know that you'll be all right and you'll come out of it when it's time." The man seemed so sure, his confidence rapt in his words. "I thought you might be thinking of sending me away to one of those asylums or something like that." He confessed. "Jon, the only reason I would do that would be under the deepest duress, or some crackpot would send you without my signature. Other than that, you don't have a thing to worry about." He chuckled lightly as he spoke. "Ok, Bruce. I get your point." He leaned his head back against the man's shoulder taking a long drag of the smoke. "Now, I do think you might need a little diversion, if you get my drift." The man grinned planting a light kiss on the younger man's neck. Jonathan moaned softly leaning his head away to allow for more of that. "I think I might like that sort o' thing, Bruce, if you don't mind." He flicked the cigarette away watching it sail through the air to the ground below. "If I don't mind. Please, Jonathan. Really." The man pushed him away turning him to face him where he slipped his arms around him guiding him to his body once again. Jonathan reveled in the feel of this man's strong protective arms around him. One of his hands sneaking up his back to cradle his head gave him the signal that Bruce meant to kiss him. And he welcomed that fully. He shuddered as he stared into this eyes fully waiting for the moment to arrive, for Bruce to pull him closer, to know the moment when their lips would meet and he would feel the warmth of his meshed so intimately to his own lips. His breath rushed into the man's face in brief puffs making the man smile. He knew Jonathan was waiting for his kiss, the very kiss that they both seemed to long for, and had waited for a long time to renew. "Jonathan." His voice was husky as he muttered the young man's name. "Yes, Bruce?" he seemed dreamy, disposed to the moment that they both were waiting for. "What are you waiting for, baby?" he almost laughed to himself as if he were playing a game with his lover. "I don't know, Bruce. You I guess." Jonathan seemed breathless to say. "Then don't wait on me, kid. Take it if you want it so badly." His voice faded to a whisper, but one that Jonathan knew and understood, one that spoke to him of the desire of his partner to be one with him, if only for a single moment in time. Without thought or effort, he sprang forward and upward, his lips pressed against Bruce's, his tongue dove into the man's mouth without restraint or a second thought. Bruce did not encumber him, restrict him, or even resist. His responses were constant with the desire they both had for the other. And all in the same moment there was passion between them that no one would, or could deny. Curling an arm about his shoulders, he reached down lifting Jonathan completely off his feet. Their kiss yet raging onward, he carried him across the threshold and the floor to the door on the other side of the room. "Where are you taking me, Bruce?" Jonathan drew back only long enough to ask, then molded to the man's mouth once again. "I will make love to you anywhere you want, Jonathan, just not in this room." The man whispered to him softly. "I don't care, Bruce. Take me where you want. Just do it in a hurry, please?" the young man pleaded quietly. With a moan, the man opened the door taking him to the room he had chosen for his own. His belongings had already been put away by the staff there. Taking him straight to his freshly made bed; he stretched him out over the coverlets, where he climbed atop him without a second thought about it. "Now, Bruce. Take me now, please." Jonathan stared up at him gazing deep into his eyes. But neither of them had given thought to the layers of clothes that would hinder what they desired. That is until Bruce glanced down and chuckled briefly at himself. "It think we might have a little problem here, Jon." He chortled once again. "What, Bruce? I never thought anything could ever stop you." The young man teased as realization came over him in the same instant. He grinned broadly up at the man. "Well, you could be right, but I don't think you want me to mess up your new outfit, now, do you?" the man's expression changed again as he looked long into Jonathan's face. "No, sir. I don't." he spoke softly seeing the care in his eyes and on his face. He worked his shoes off his feet then reached for Bruce's shirt beginning to undo it. The man's hand came up grasping both his halting him briefly. Silently he lowered his head, his lips connecting to Jonathan's lightly. "You mean everything to me, Jonathan." He muttered against them then drove his tongue deep into his mouth. Completely surprised, Jonathan bolted. Bruce had never exercised this type of aggression toward him. Every bit of contact he had ever experienced from him was gentle, tender, and non-threatening to say the least. And he knew in his heart that the man meant him no harm at all, that his expression was one of deepest desire toward him. Yet, it surprised him completely, none the less. Bruce's hands plundered him indiscriminately, wandering over his body with abandon and seeming to lack any purpose at all. With it came the haphazard disrobing exercise, barely getting the buttons undone of the shirts, the pants being done away with promiscuously. And when they were ridded of enough clothing, Jonathan more or less just impaled himself on the man, who came down atop him again, cradling his shoulders in his arms and the young man's head in his hands. He rocked upward, plowing his way into him with a long stride that was helped by Jon's legs being wrapped around him pulling his body up onto the man. Their mouths met again while some of the rest of their clothing was still coming off as an after thought of what they really wanted. In the silence of the room heavy breathing could be heard. Neither of them was concerned whose was whose or that it was carried into the sitting room, where Peter and Greg just so happened to enter quietly. Before Greg could flip on the lightswitch, Peter deterred him by subduing his hand before the action could be executed. He then discretely escorted the man out of the room to give them privacy. "Bruce!" They heard Jonathan whine as the door closed them out of the room, silencing the sounds, which suddenly became more urgent, just before. "Yes, Jonathan. I know." The man answered so very unaware that they had been discovered, yet left to do as they pleased with each other. And he pummeled the young man's body with the tempo of his desire, each stroke becoming stronger, every stride meeting Jonathan with purpose and determination. He could sense the urgency Jonathan was expressing in his fervent kiss, the rigidity of his body that was being constantly pressed more firmly against him as time went on, the elevation of his breathing, and the grip of his hands becoming gradually tighter. In all of this, he knew the kid was on the brink of slipping from the very precipice he had been reaching toward. He also knew that quickly he would be diving into the very depths of pleasure. Pleasure that he had desired Jonathan experience with him that he had been longing to share with him for more than a month. Pleasure, which now, would be theirs. Together. Jonathan's head slipped back in Bruce's hand's, disconnecting their kiss in the process. His mouth opened which suddenly took in a great amount of air, and then a cry emanated from it. His already taut muscles now locked, his legs almost completely restricting Bruce's movement all together. A powerful contraction squeezed him from within Jonathan's body that was follow by a quick release, only to contract again. Bruce couldn't help the expression on his face as he watched Jonathan so inundated in his pleasure. He almost experienced it with him as he had the very first day he had met the young man on the interstate so long ago it seemed. But he could not deny the strength of his release as it forced him to become a partaker in the episode. Having been a partaker since the very beginning, he once again was launched in this timeless place, where pleasure can not be measured, or time can not find them. A Timeless Place Ch. 10 Bruce and Peter walked into the restaurant while Tony parked the car. It was one of eight they found and were using from Mr. Bowman's garage. He had spotted the BMW and had always wanted to take it for a spin when the man was alive. Of course, he also had his eyes on the Porsche and the Mazeratti, but there were three riding, so they needed a little room for everyone. As he pulled into the parking spot, put it in neutral and extracted the emergency brake, he looked over toward the building to see two well dressed men with slight bulges under their jackets. Conspicuously, he busied himself while he watched them for a moment, pretending to be putting things away, or getting them in the car. When he stepped out he straightened his jacket, buttoning it still scoping out the couple with nonchalance. Slipping on his shades, he meandered toward them for a better look. "Hi." He spoke with an almost outlandishly silly grin. "Nice evenin', don'tchya thank?" a thick southern drawl poured from him as well as some overly accentuated southern mannerisms. One of them answered with an even thicker Russian accent alerting him to the fact. "Hello, yes, very nice night." Tony smiled continuing back around the front hearing them follow close behind. His keen ears could hear their steps that weren't as trained as Peter's were, silent, patient, and furtive. Their conversation was in jest of his cowboy like manners and such. It didn't bother him until one of them called him a pimp because of the jewelry he was wearing. But, he let is slide for the time being, seeming to know they would tango soon enough. When they reached the front corner, they stopped, but Tony kept going, stepping in through the door. The valet nodded, as he passed, a bit disgruntled that Tony had chosen to park the car himself. "Watch those two. Let me know if they leave." He muttered to the teen briefly. "Why? What's goin' on?" the youth asked who must have barely been eighteen. He seemed to perk as if he was about to learn some juicy news about a conflict. "It's a matter of national security, kid." Tony quipped. "And you shouldn't be so nosey. It might get you killed one day." The teen smirked, not believing him, but glanced over at the two men outside. They stood at the corner of the building seeming to be waiting for someone. Both were wearing nice suites, dark shades and appeared to be identical twins. Their hair color was of a milky blonde; long, straight and worn free. Their lips were a pinkish tan that appeared to have been surgically over defined. Yet they both had had no such thing done to them. As one of them removed his shades, he could see that their eyes were an eerie bluish-silver color that the teen had never seen before. It made him shudder as he glanced over at him giving him an evil grin. When the man replaced his shades once more, the teen couldn't tell if the man was looking at him anymore or not. It unnerved him so, that he stepped in through the foyer doorway to get out of his sight for a moment. Inside, Tony meandered to the table where Peter and Bruce had joined David. He took note of the room and everyone there as he went. Everyone appeared normal to him, yet he couldn't help but think a third man was lurking about nearby. His trained eyes and quick mind memorized everyone there, just in case. They fell on a certain man with that sparked his suspicions instantly. Anyway, he knew he had to keep his skills sharp and this was one way of tackling that problem. So, he focussed on his surroundings as he went. "'Bout time, Tony." Bruce teased as he approached pulling a chair out from under the table to sit in. "I had to park the car, Bruce." He chuckled as he spoke now parking in the chair with a little grace. "Yeah, but you had time to wash, wax and buff the thing too." He was pouring it on; knowing Tony really liked the car to begin with. Tony grinned leaning on his arms on the table. "Peter, two o'clock, white button-up, blue slacks, Swiss watch, newspaper and shades." He muttered so low that Bruce and David missed most of it. "What'd you say?" David leaned in closer in case he did it again. But Tony only sat back watching as Peter expertly made a move to look under the table briefly. In doing so, his hair slid down concealing his momentary study of the man Tony had described. He was used to him practicing such observations in the event some real danger posed itself. And as he looked he recognized the man from his own organization. It almost made him laugh that they would send someone he knew. Obviously the higher ups were making a statement to him. He understood that to be that they were not willing to just let him go. His desire to naturalize, becoming an U.S. citizen, was openly rejected. ***** Jonathan sat at the desk his uncle once used, going over some files from his contacts. He wanted to get a feel for what other businesses Mr. Bowman was working in that he didn't divulge to him so readily. His eyes narrowed as some encrypted fonts flashed across the screen angering him a little. What was his uncle hiding anyway? What need did he have to encrypt anything? If it were legal, he wouldn't have to worry about it, would he? Greg meandered toward him seeing the consternation on his face. Setting the tray on the desk, he moved around to look at the screen with him. "That looks like gibberish." Greg commented playfully. "It is. It's encrypted." He answered with a chuckle. "Hmm." The man leaned closer, the warmth of his breath washing over Jonathan's ear. A slow grin played across his lips as he then felt the moisture of his tongue sneak out to tease the outer shell. "You're gonna make me delete somethin' accidentally." He half laughed as he closed the file just in case. "Well, Jonathan, You've ignored me for more than two weeks now, and I won't stand for it." Greg fussed gently as the hand that had been resting on Jon's shoulder now glided long and languidly down his arm to his thigh. "Bruce put you up to this, didn't he?" The young man grinned as he opened a less important file. "Hmp..." the doctor grasped a handful of flesh squeezing tight in a cow bite. "Ouch!" Jonathan leaned away looking into his face. In the same instant the man attacked his mouth driving his tongue deep inside. Jonathan instantly melted it seemed. He reveled in the feel of Greg's light aggression in an effort to get his full attention. Slowly taking his hands from the keyboard and mouse, he enveloped the man in his arms guiding him to straddle his thighs. "I've wanted you so bad, Jonathan." Greg muttered to him as he sat on his legs diving for his lips and mouth again. It hadn't occurred to him that he had been a little less than sociable since the night he had spent with Bruce. And lately, Bruce was the only man Jonathan had slept with. It wasn't that Tony, or Greg didn't appeal to him, or make him want them, he just wanted Bruce's arms around him to hold and protect him of late. Greg didn't waste any time unbuttoning Jonathan's overly large shirt. He pushed it over his shoulders and part way of his arms leaning into him desperate to feel his warmth, the softness of his taut skin over developing definition. His lips and tongue led the way down Jon's throat to a shoulder almost forcing the younger man to lean his head away allowing for more room. Jonathan shivered suddenly, the effect of Greg's warm breath, light kisses and moist tongue driving him to the brink of erotic insanity. Unconsciously, he let his hands wander down the man's sides to his hips that he pulled closed to his body in a lewd gesture. "Greg, if you want this, you're gonna have to take these off." Jonathan teased in a whisper. "I'll take 'em off when I get good an' ready. Ok?" The doctor insisted. "Ok." Jonathan sighed heavily. "Have it your way." "Not impatient are ya?" he grinned at him devilishly. "Well, maybe. Just a little." Greg almost burst into a full laugh knowing the predicament he had Jon in, and the fact that the young man was easily aroused didn't help any. He had taken control of this situation, Jon was allowing him to take the lead, and he needed to follow through with that. Standing he unfastened his pants removing them completely, as well as everything else. Jonathan took the moment to do the same before meeting Greg somewhere in the middle behind the desk. "Not here, Jon. Please." The doctor whispered as he sank into Jonathan's embrace. "What is it with you guys and this fucking room!" Jonathan backed away yelling angrily then. "None of us want to be an unwilling part of your past memories, Jon! We're all part of your present and future. And I for one do not wish to be Mr. Bowman for you, if even for a second, thank you very much." Greg expressed to him, vigorously shaking a finger at him. Jonathan stood completely stunned by his reaction and what he said. Not a moment of all he had recalled had involved them except with Bruce at the club. Why would they think he would do that? "Fine." He slipped into his jeans leaving the room promptly. ***** "David, don't you think you're being just a little unreasonable here." Tony leaned toward the center of the table to express gently, but firmly. The stern look on his face and in his eyes told everyone at the table, he was controlling his anger. "Unreasonable or no, this club is not going to stand a chance if we just liquidate the profits like this." The man sat back in his chair tossing his hands up at his sides trying to make his point to them, clear. He was obviously not going to bend on the matter, it seemed. "In that case, perhaps we need a new manager. One that will do what we ask and see to our best interests." Bruce calmly stated, his eyes locked on the empty plate before him. David watched the man appear to not be affected in the least by the proof he had. His demeanor was just too calm for his taste and he had much more in this little club than they all knew to begin with. It belonged to him. He had made it what it was, worked his fingers to the bone to achieve what it was at the moment, sweat and tears had gone into it that these men had no idea about. How dare this man come in here and just tell him what he can do with his club! He seethed as he sat glaring at him. it boiled hot in his belly rising quickly to the surface. "Look here, you backwoods country boy, you ain't takin my club away from me. Not like this, not ever! You come in here like you own the place! Well, you don't! You didn't make it what it is now! I did!" the man popped off at Bruce angrily. "Your club, David? I think you must be mistaken, sir. That club was given to Jonathan and Mr. Bowman himself..." "I could care less what that fuckin' Bowman said!" David jumped to his feet proclaiming to all that were there. Realizing his mistake he looked around him, as the room now became deadly silent. "David, sit down." Tony stood calmly, speaking to him even softer than the man had expected. This was no different from before he knew that now. It was the same force he was faced with when Bowman was alive. Tony and Peter were backing this Bruce fellow completely. They were his muscle, just as they were Bowman's. And he suddenly knew he had better watch himself before he ended up dead like a few others of Bowman's managers. "What's goin' on, really?" David sat quietly staring at Tony all the while. "Nothing, David. But outbursts like that, draw too much attention to people that just don't want to have attention drawn to them." Tony answered mildly. "Well, I didn't mean to draw attention to you, Tony. But I would like an explanation of what the fuck is going on here, please." The man asked emphatically, though he tried desperately to keep his voice down. "What is going on, has nothing to do with us, David. It seems to me that you're the only one hiding information from us." Bruce spoke low watching across the room behind Tony at the man staring at them now. Sensibly, the man had removed his shades being he was inside and it was dark out. It was readily apparent the man was noticing them now. Tony saw the look on Bruce's face knowing something was going on behind him. He couldn't tell being he didn't have a mirror to look and see, or anything to reflect the goings on taking place behind him. It made him feel restless and uneasy. He shifted, looking to Peter briefly who gave him a calm, approving nod. "Mr. Bowman left the club to Jonathan, David. He also expressed that half of this club would belong to me. So, being the proprietor of said club, either you will bend to the offer given, or relinquish your position as manager." Bruce explained. David couldn't believe his ears. This man actually thought he could just waltz in and take what didn't even belong to him in the first place. It seemed to him, the guy was an arrogant prick, one that needed to learn a few lessons in manners, at that. Not only that, he had only just threatened to fire him from his job. He couldn't let this happen. This just could not be. "Alright, damn it!" the man looked down at a spot on the tablecloth, speaking low but emphatically. "Have it your way. But, I'm tellin' ya, the club will fold. It won't carry it's own weight without the extras." The man pressed. "Then there is no need for it to be open, David. We're not going to be involved in drugs and prostitution, is that understood?" Bruce began to shake his head inertly in a negative motion. "Whatever." David stood straightening his jacket. "You do whatchya want. I'll wait." He grinned. "Wait for what, David?" Bruce looked up at him not showing any emotion, as if he were playing poker with the man. "Nothin'." The manager turned leaving them, seeming to be in very high spirits. They all watched him leave, each one wondering in his own mind what he wasn't telling them. "It would seem to me, he plans a hostile take over, Bruce." Tony leaned to him from across the table. "I agree." Peter lifted his glass of water to take a sip. While his eyes were concealed by the glass, he cut them to the man sitting across the room obviously enthralled in the goings on. At the moment, he was staring David down as he watched him leave. "Well, whatever he's planning, he can't very well do it without a job, can he?" Bruce grinned fully then. "But we'll still need a manager." Tony quipped with concern. "Yes, that's the only draw back. So, I guess we need to shake the bushes and see what jumps out." Bruce teased. "Yep. And I've gotta go to the boys room. Be right back." Tony stood meandering toward the restroom, glancing over at his targeted mystery man briefly. Peter watched the man blatantly get up as Tony disappeared around the corner. He knew in his mind, it was a ploy to get him to follow him into the restroom. But as much as he knew this, the safety of his friends were the first thought in his mind. "Peter, don't..." Bruce grasped his hand quickly in warning. "I have to, Bruce. I can not allow harm to come to any of you." The man spoke low for only Bruce to hear before stepping steadily further from the table toward the restroom. Bruce sat contemplating upon all that could come about in the next few moments. He could loose so much, and that just frightened him more than anything did. Peter could be dragged away from him, his life, his love, and his desires to show that love. He could loose Tony, who would never go quietly, unless it meant saving the lives of the rest of them. Trapped is what he felt in that moment. He felt completely trapped. But he refused to remain seated there at that table and not do something about it. A Timeless Place Ch. 11 Jonathan moved down the corridor from his uncle's office/bedroom. Greg had slipped his pants back on and quickly caught up to him. "Jonathan, please don't be angry with me. I just..." "Greg, I have never imagined my uncle being with me while I was engaged with any of you! The only time that has happened was at the club with Bruce. I haven't done it since, and I don't understand why you guys think I would do that!" his emotion was expressed clearly to the doctor as he lifted his arms away from his sides while he spoke. "Okay, Jonathan. It's ok. We just want to know that when you're with us, it's us you're with." The man coiled to think for a moment of what he had just said. Jonathan grinned at him, his point clearly taken for what it meant. But he could tell that Greg wasn't sure it had come out the way he wanted it to. "I understand what you're saying, Greg. And I promise that is not the case." He affirmed. "Good...Now...Can we finish what we started?" the expression on the man's face almost made Jonathan laugh. It was apparent he absolutely wanted him. "Well, I thought we would meander down to your room and see what's cookin' there." Jonathan eased an arm around the man slowly beginning to lead him in that direction. "Jonathan, you're such a tease." Greg's face broke into a broad grin. A Timeless Place Ch. 12 Greg rounded the corner of the hospital entrance a little too fast causing them to skid. Jonathan held on for dear life feeling a thrill of titillation rush through him. His mouth suddenly dropped open and a screech permeated the atmosphere of the car. "I got it, baby." Greg quickly tried to assure him. "Just let me off at the entrance." Jon announced. "I will not! You can walk in with me, just like always." The man slowed to make another turn into the parking lot swiftly pulling into an empty spot. As soon as Greg had stopped the car, Jon was out the passenger side door. He impatiently waited for the doctor who was grabbing the items Bruce had requested in his call. Jonathan suddenly realized the fact and opened the door to the back seat. Half climbing in, he reached to grab what he could. They soon had it all gathered and was on their way into the hospital. In the elevator, Jonathan leaned on Greg; worried and confused as to the details Bruce had given them. The doctor set the bag down that was in his hand curling an arm about the young man. "It's gonna be ok. Bruce said they're just holding them both for observation. It's not serious." He muttered into his ear. "We could've lost them both, Greg." Jon sniffled on the verge of tears. "Yes, but we didn't." he kissed Jon's forehead allowing his lips to linger there for a long moment. When the doors opened they noticed the groupings of uniformed police standing here and there. It was obvious something criminal had taken place, but Bruce hadn't stated that on the phone. All he had said was that Tony and Peter had had an accident, and were staying overnight at the hospital. He told Greg that they weren't seriously injured, but the doctors just wanted to be sure. And Greg knew that song and dance. Something must have been questionable for the professionals to make that decision. Still, if it were serious, the doctor on the case wouldn't have offered to let them go home in the morning. They saw Bruce talking to one of the officers and made their way toward them. Greg quickly assessed Bruce silently, upon approach, seeing that he was smiling and laughing with the man he was talking to. It made him calm down immediately. "Ah, Greg." Bruce happened to glance their way and see them coming toward him and the cop he was talking to. One glimpse at Jonathan's face told him the young man was terribly worried. "Come 'ere, Jon." He stretched an arm to him and one to Greg at the same time. Curling them both to him, he held onto them desperately. "What happened, Bruce?" Greg mumbled as he snuggled into the man's shoulder and neck. "Come to the waiting room. It's quieter there. We can talk." He released them leading the way. "We'll be in the waiting room if you need me." Bruce then said to the uniformed man standing next to him. The man nodded then stepped away to a nearby group of his peers. After being seated in the small room alone, Bruce began to relay the events that led to both Tony and Peter being injured, then brought to the hospital. "I had no idea Tony was hurt until we got here. I didn't even check the restroom when I saw those men hauling Peter out of the building. The only reason I found out, is I saw his name on one of the lists at the nurses station." He informed them. "How are they, Bruce, really?" Greg asked then. "Well, Tony has a concussion. Other than that, he's fine. Peter was just knocked unconscious when the car hit the light pole. The doctor said he wanted to keep him overnight, just for G.P." "G.P. my ass, Bruce. What room is he in? I'll find out right now." He stood. "Greg, he's being watched. You'd be better off not even going in there." "Watched? What are you not telling us?" the doctor's brow furrowed with sudden concern. Bruce sighed long knowing he couldn't keep the truth from either of them. And it wouldn't be fair to them if he did. "Well, like I said, Peter was kidnapped by some Russian spies or something like that. And the police seem to think that since Peter's still alive, they may try it again." They both heard the door close to the waiting room then. Each man turned to look, finding Jonathan had suddenly exited. "Damn, where is he going. He'll end up getting himself killed, Greg." Bruce stood instantly starting for the door. "I don't think he cares at this point, Bruce. You know how he's been lately." Greg followed hurrying out of the room with the man to stop Jonathan. They both saw him slip into Peter's room the cop holding the door open for him as he went in. Bruce knew he wouldn't allow all three of them in there at the same time, because of the danger in it. Still, he had thought no one would be allowed to enter the room until morning. He surmised that Jonathan had worked his charm to gain entrance and smiled at the fact. "He's ok. There's a guard at the door. Let's just let Jon have his time with Peter. We both know how he feels about the man, and I don't blame him." A Timeless Place Ch. 13 Jonathan stared out over the balcony railing into the garden below. His heart ached horrendously over the loss of his best friend. In his mind, he conjured memories of the past years with Peter that only proved to make his pain even colder and harder to bear. It seemed the vast darkness that surrounded him would quickly swallow him up. He felt caught in a vacuum of utter solitude and aloneness, so isolated now, as if no one could ever understand the pain and hurt he felt. And his mind kept going back to that night at the hospital, the words the man had spoken riveted through his being like glaciers sliding, frigid and heavily over ridges of icy walls. Without warning it effused from his being. He gripped the railing tight leaning forward as he began to wail. Pain issued from his being with gut wrenching sounds that permeated the night, cutting through the silence like so many double-edged swords. It seemed to hang in the air, surrounding him unrelenting and heavy, tormented where the cries he made. His body shook violently, sweat beaded over his brow and upper lip. Tightly his fingers gripped the railing that caused the knuckles to blanch. All he knew was the pain he felt and that he was utterly consumed with it. Soon, it became all he could do to stand there, as his legs becoming weak and slowly went to his knees, then finally sat on the cold concrete floor of the balcony. Grasping the vertical bars of the structure he leaned his cheek against one of them weeping soundly for a long time. A Timeless Place Ch. 13 When Greg started for the phone Tony added, "make sure it's the unlubed kind too, Greg." Bruce laughed again while Greg's mouth suddenly came open in a surprised expression. "Well, payback's a bitch!" Tony quipped. A Timeless Place Ch. 14 Once again I am pleased to bring you another chapter in this continuing saga. I hope you enjoy it. I did finally decide to cut this chapter where it ends, in order to submit it for you being it was getting a bit long. The remainder of this 'scene' will continue into chapter 15. And please, do remember to vote and comment at the end. I do appreciate everyone's comments that I get. And I do try to answer each one I receive via email. And now, without further ado, I give you, chapter 14... Jonathan became urgent as he listened to the men; his excitement rose while his imagination ran ramped of the things they intended for him. He unbuttoned Tony's shirt lavishing every inch of exposed flesh with kisses and long slow strokes of his tongue. His exploration almost seemed new to him, as if it were the very first time he had tasted of Tony's skin. Searching out a nipple while his hands gripped the man's sides, he pressed a knee between Tony's thighs, straddled one leg, then languidly moved his hands down over the man's bottom where he ground against him pulling Tony as close as they could get to each other. Finding that nipple he had been searching for, Jonathan surrounded it with eager lips, his tongue lapped at the firmly raised flesh hungrily, just before he closed his teeth around it gradually applying pressure. "Damn, baby," Tony expressed in a higher pitched voice than was usual for him. Then in a normal voice, he said, "if you're that hungry, you should've eat your dinner like a good boy should. Jonathan only moaned in response. He then tugged on the nipple causing Tony to suddenly inhale through clinched teeth. "Okay, that's it, kid." The man gathered Jon in his arms, carrying him to the bed just a few feet away. "You're ass is mine, now." Tony lowered Jonathan atop the bedding then stood and removed his shirt and jeans. As he climbed over Jon, he grasped the wrists, as the young man reached for him and pinned them over Jon's head. The young man bucked, giving the man a bit of a struggle only to heighten their excitement more. Tony took hold of both wrists in one hand freeing the other that quickly ripped open the t-shirt Jon was wearing. He then reached between them unfastening the young man's jeans. Jon fought him more, when he saw how close he was to being had. "Looks like you've got yer hand's full, Tony," Bruce moved up beside the man assisting him in disrobing the whelp. Together they made quick work of rendering Jonathan completely exposed to them. Greg joined them setting a box of latex gloves on the nightstand from which he donned a pair grinning wickedly all the while. "We got any rope, or handcuffs nearby? He's not being a very good patient at all." Tony looked to Greg who shrugged unknowingly. Bruce patiently began to rip strips of the t-shirt, tied two ends together making a nice piece of rope with which he used to tie Jon's wrists together. He then bound the wrists to the bedpost freeing their hands to do what they pleased with Jonathan. "Now, that's more like it," Tony grinned, as he swatted the side of Jon's buttocks. "You've been very naughty, Jonathan. And you are gonna get it now. We have had about enough of yer attitude, young man," his voice was stern - biting verbally - yet it thrilled Jonathan causing his body to course with sensation. "I don't think that was hard enough, Tony. What? You gettin' soft on us now?" Greg teased with a wry grin. "Oh, you think so?" Tony slapped the check again, only harder this time. It left a large red handprint that even looked like it would sting. "Ouch," Greg eyed the glowing print then chuckled. "Oops, he's enjoying that, look," he pointed with a gloved finger to Jon's growing manhood. "Well, let's see if he likes this," Tony half turned Jon's body toward him and began to spank him hard. At first Jonathan only whimpered, as the stinging began. Then, he started squirming about, forcing Bruce to have to help hold the young man still. Finally, Jon began to cry out with each slap to his bottom that now was hot and blistering red from the punishment. And when Tony finally stopped, Jon was relieved that he did. "You gonna be a good boy from now on?" Bruce grabbed a handful of hair at the back of Jon's head wrenching the young man's head to one side to see his face. "Yes, sir," Jonathan answered immediately. "Well, it's about time, boy," Tony piped. "And you had better be on yer best behavior from now on, or yer ass is toast!" He leaned down growling in Jon's ear. "Yes, sir," the young man answered firmly, without hesitation. "Good, now we should get on with this cavity search, doc," Tony smiled at the already prepared doctor, who moved in closer. He started with Jon's hair, inspecting the length and close to the scalp for anything that might be tied, or hidden in the strands and used to injure himself with. Once satisfied, he moved down, as the other two turned Jon onto his back, checking behind his ears, between his gums and cheeks, under his tongue, etc. With his hands flush to the shoulders, Greg moved them down slowly over Jon's chest. Making a detour, the doctor gently caressed the young man's nipples with his gloved hands. Not gaining the desired responses, he then took a nipple between the forefinger and thumb squeezing gradually until Jonathan sighed long, open mouthed. Giving the nipple a hard twist caused the young man to suck air suddenly, and arch his back toward the hand. The doctor then toyed with the opposite nipple doing the same, while he roughly forced his index finger into Jon's mouth to wet it. After drawing it back out, Greg then rubbed the finger and thumb together, took the nipple he had first molested, applying the very same technique as before. "Well, I can't find anything so far," Greg stated, as if he was disappointed about it. "Keep checkin', doc. I know he's hid 'em somewhere," Tony grinned down at Jon evilly. "I think I'm gonna check his mouth again. You might o' missed something in there," he took his member in hand moving to Jon's head aiming it at the young man's lips. "Good idea, Tony," Bruce chuckled and watched as Jonathan eagerly lifted his head to take the swollen flesh into his mouth. "Oh, he's being a very good boy, now," Bruce commented. "It's about damn time, too," Tony agreed, as he allowed Jon to work him in at the pace he felt comfortable with. He straddled Jonathan's body for better access to the mouth. In the meantime, Greg moved his hands down Jon's body paying close attention to those areas he knew were most sensitive to the young man. He concentrated on them for a time, lightly floating his latex clad fingers across his obliques, up and down the center of Jon's abs. A few times, he allowed his fingers to drift lower teasing the young man effectively, seeing the pours stipple as he did, yet never lingering or touching Jon's privates. Tony and Bruce watch as Jon took in the man's member to the base, then draw back only to watch it disappear into his mouth again. Time after time, the member slowly vanished in Jon's mouth re-emerging gradually at the pace the young man had set. When Tony felt Jon was comfortable with his size and length, he began to push into Jon's mouth with a bit of force, just enough to let the young man know that he was about to become a little rough with him. The eye contact Jon made with Tony let the man know he was all right with that. And having seen the acceptance in the young man's gaze, he pushed a little harder each time, until Jon's eyes told him where his limit was. "Take that cock, boy," Tony barked at him gruffly. "Suck it!" A ripple of sensation spread through Jon at the tone and harshness the man used, that combined with the patient workings of the doctor behind Tony, he was becoming highly aroused. He shuddered as the doctor's fingers barely skimmed a corner of the swatch of hair down below. His member began to throb and he wished Greg would take him in hand to stroke him or into his mouth and suck him. But, the doctor made him wait. He had other plans to execute first. "Suck it, bitch," Tony growled at Jon, who had slacked off just a tad, as a result of what the Greg was doing. "You'd better do better than this, boy! Or would you like another spankin'? Maybe I'll get to those thighs this time," Tony teased, knowing Jon couldn't tolerate much on his thighs. Jonathan sudden became urgent and diligent in his work, taking the man in completely, and then drawing hard, as his mouth glided back to toward the crown. "C'me on, Jonathan, suck me like you mean it, boy!" Tony seemed to become frustrated with him, making Jon feel he was doing less than potential, or usual. He put all of his effort into pleasing the man then. "Oh, yeah," Tony sighed, then breathed in suddenly. "That's my Jonathan," he shuddered visibly producing a chuckle from Bruce. "Looks like he's gotten lazy these days, huh?" Bruce jested. "Yeah, too much time on his hands to play with himself, lately." Greg added. Bruce tossed his head back letting out a guffaw, a sound all of them hadn't heard in a long while. It filled the room spreading to Greg, who chuckled, then Tony who was trying to maintain his bullying of Jonathan and get off too. Jonathan wanted to protest, not having touched himself in a long while. But his mouth was too full and busy at the moment to say anything at all. So, he furrowed his brow, his eyes becoming large and shook his head negatively with several quick jerks. "Hey, get back to work, bitch!" Tony shoved his manhood in suddenly, getting Jon's attention effectively. Submissively, Jon ignored the revelry, focussing his attention on Tony's member completely. He soon closed his eyes savoring the taste of the man, the feel of his thickness and length gliding across his tongue and past his lips, the musky aroma of Tony that once drove him to do his best for the man. Combined, it brought him back to the relationship he used to have with this man, one that he now realized, he truly missed. With urgency, Jon took him in, drawing hard on the man, as he moved back from the base to the tip. He heard the long sigh of approval that gave him the encouragement he craved to continue what he was doing. "Yes, baby," Tony breathed with a heavy suspire, "That's it. Oh, you've got it back now, Jon. Keep doin' that," he encouraged generously. Greg moved his hand slowly down over Jonathan's pelvis; his fingers once more disturbed the patch of hair there. Continuing lower, he let the fingertips slip through it, feeling the texture of it, even with gloves on. Finally, it came to rest over Jonathan's manhood, where he stroked the young man open palmed, a slow deliberate movement that slid up the length to the tip and back down where he gently pressed the sacks against Jon's body. A moan was heard, but not from Tony or Bruce. Greg knew Jonathan's moans like he knew the backs of his hands. He relished the sound of it, as he glided his hand up the shaft and back down again. Pressure was applied, when Jon began to move in the patient rhythm the man had set. Finally taking the member in hand, he stroked Jon leisurely, stopping only to fondle with the sacks giving the young man a gentle squeeze here and there. Tony had begun to tremble. The tempo between him and Jon had escalated gradually. The man's hands holding Jon's head, feeding his member to the young man's mouth ardently. Sitting straddled the young man's body; he thrust his hips forward, pushing his manhood into Jon's mouth time and again. "It's comin', baby," he called out to him with heavy breath, his body rigid with the work. Muscles flexed, bulging in his arms, chest and legs, relaxing only to flex again. It was a sight that Jonathan was completely immersed in; the power of Tony's awesome body. Then, the man gave a long groan, his body stiffened even more. Jonathan felt the initial spasm, as Tony's member jerked beginning to pulse, filling his mouth. The bittersweet and salty taste of it had almost been forgotten, but was remembered once again. Relishing the sounds of Tony's release made him so hot, he thought he would lose his mind. He struggled to hold back, not having been told he was allowed to come yet. And he fought hard with his own body to maintain the rhythm for Tony's sake. But, finally, the man relaxed, climbed off him to rest beside him for a moment and regain his composure. "That's been long in comin', Tony," Bruce commented with a smile. "God, yes," the man agreed instantly. "Well, I still ain't found any razors, Tony," Greg chimed, after Tony had rested for a moment. "You just ain't looked in the right place yet, doc," the man sat up, reached across Jon pulling a couple gloves out of the box. "Do I have to do everything for ya, doc?" he fussed playfully. "Watch it, pal," Greg argued back with a surprised expression. "I can have yer license revoked, ya know?" "You wouldn't dare!" Tony quipped, then laughed, as a grin sneaked across Greg's lips. "Try me, buddy. You don't want to get on my bad side, mister," his tone was one any of them had rarely ever heard from Greg. But that night seemed one that all of them were in rare form. "Ooh, Tony," Jonathan laughed. "Sounds like a challenge to me." "Me too," Bruce agreed. "Well, we'll just see about that," the man grinned broadly. "How 'bout you put yer money where yer mouth is, doc." "You find any razors on Jonathan and I will," Greg blurted out. Jonathan laughed then, "there ain't any razors on me, guys!" "See! Told ya!" Greg motioned a hand to Jon, as he spoke. "Bullshit," Tony moved down Jon's body, pulled a leg up then shoved a finger inside him. Jon bolted at Tony's roughness. The initial surprise at his harshness and the sudden discomfort that rippled through him lasted only a couple seconds. Then he moaned, as he settled, the man probing him thoroughly. "Feel anything?" Bruce had crossed his arms over his chest asking. "Well," Tony searched deeper producing excited responses from Jonathan. "Could be nothing, really," he looked off into space, as he pushed even further into the young man, turned his hand and finger one way then the other in his 'supposed' search. "What?" Bruce dropped his arms being baited. "Not sure, yet. Give me a minute. These things take time," he muttered the last, as he withdrew his finger then pushed two in. Jonathan was about to come unglued, as he first launched his body toward the headboard, then down hard on Tony's fingers. He quickly conformed to the fingers; the pressure Tony used an even greater exhilaration to him. The man knew what he was doing and was doing it all too well. The digits plunged into him, stopped, appearing to feel around when he was massaging Jon's sweet spot. Finally, the steady rhythm began. Jonathan lunged onto his fingers as they invaded him, pulled back as they glided out, then he pushed onto them again and again. "Well, whatever the hell it is has got Jonathan all stirred up," Bruce joked. "I see that," Greg chuckled. I need a longer probe," Tony moved between Jon's thighs hooking the young man's knees over his shoulders. Leaning forward, he braced himself with a hand as he guided his member into the Jonathan slowly. "Well, would you look at this? Greedy fucker ain't he?" Greg fussed. Bruce laughed, "it's been a while for 'im, just let 'im be." Greg threw up his hands, letting them drop in playful frustration. Bruce grasped the doctor's arm pulling the him abruptly to him. "It's been a while for you and me, too, mister," he teased. Thank you again for reading this chapter. I do hope you enjoyed it. Please remember to vote and leave me a comment. I would greatly appreciate it. A Timeless Place Ch. 15 "Uh," Greg was completely taken aback by the gesture, searching his mind for a verbal response. Bruce took advantage of the moment, leaned his head to one side and filled Greg's slightly open mouth this his tongue. Instantly, the doctor took him into his arms, not giving any kind of protest whatsoever. He latched onto the man aggressively, pressing his entire body against Bruce firmly. Their tongues danced with the others in a sense of struggle for dominance. But in Bruce's arms Greg was always submissive, yielding to the man whatever he desired of the doctor. "Lose the gloves, Greg," Bruce pulled back only enough to whisper to the doctor. "Oh," Greg detached from him, taking them off, habitually allowing the one glove to turn inside out. As he pulled off the remaining one, he turned the glove inside out with the first one stuffed in the palm. He tossed them into the trash receptacle between the bed and the nightstand nearby. Immediately, Bruce slipped his arms around Greg's waist, pulling the doctor as close to his body as possible. Inertly, he leaned his head down brushing his lips to Greg's lightly producing a soft moan from the expectant man. It seemed to them that it had been an eternity since they had made love to each other. The remembrance of that morning he had taken Greg to work in the car returned. A Timeless Place Ch. 16 Peter lost himself in a crowed train station while still in his disguise. He walked right past two members of his organization, not being noticed by either of them. Still, he ducked into an adjacent pub, quickly finding a seat at a table where he could see the front door, yet was close to the back door if an immediate escape was required. He wasn't ready to give himself up, just yet. There was still left the element of an unexpected visit with the leader of his organization that he wanted to accomplish before he turned himself in. If he could convince the man his presence was needed in America that would benefit everyone involved. He would have time to affect his release and complete the obligations of his visa, so he could naturalize as an American citizen. But, there was no way of knowing if all of this would come together, as he had planned, until he could talk to the man. His eyes constantly watched the door waiting for his train to leave for his destination. It was time he had to think about his friends in Arizona. How he missed Bruce already and wished he was lying next to him. His thoughts wandered as he sat, guarding the door with trained eyes, watching every move anyone made in, or outside the pub. Recalling the feel of Bruce's strong body made him shudder suddenly. It almost shocked him that he could allow that to happen to him. Anyone could have noticed it, but he could explain it away by saying there was a chill in the air. And there was. A Timeless Place Ch. 17 At the hospital, Jonathan's head was wrapped in gauze, tubes running from his arm to a bag that hung from a metal rod overhead and other bags attached to the bed. Jim stood in the corner of the room unseen by anyone that worked there or had come to visit. A nurse entered the room, pushed back the curtain, and walked right through the man standing guard over his nephew. The sad expression on his face was not distracted by the other presence in the room with him. Even though she stood in his line of vision checking Jonathan over thoroughly, he never saw her there. He could only see Jonathan lying there, wounded, possibly dying, and it hurt him deeply. He was actually glad Tony had ridded the club of David, though he felt it was a sad state of affairs that it had to end up the way it did. If only that moron would've listened to Bruce and Jonathan, he would still be alive and the club would still be in full swing. But, no - not David, he had to be his own boss and do his own thing. Trying to keep things the way they were when the way they were was as destructive as the way Jim had treated his nephew all those years. And how he longed to reconcile those years and the terrible things he had done to Jonathan. The poor kid still had no clue as to the whereabouts, or incident that took Jon's parents from him. Mr. Preston had been a fool to leave that day and not inform Jonathan about it. But, if Jonathan lived, he would learn what happened to them and probably hate Jim the rest of his life. And, that was all good, too. The kid needed to hate him for all that he had done to the boy in the first place. Second, he needed to get angry and allow those emotions to help him heal, or Jonathan would end up either dead by his own hand, or a mushroom the rest of his life after he had his coming nervous breakdown, crossed the line between insanity and reality, going completely insane. He was headed there even as Jim stood guard over him and couldn't really do anything about it, but watch - feeling helpless. But, he had to try. If the sun came up in the morning and Jonathan was still breathing, he had to try his best to make things right for the boy, at all costs. He was so angry with David for this, and wanted to tear the man apart with his bare hands. But, that wouldn't help his status any at all. As it was he was lucky just to have the opportunity to attempt to make things right with the kid. He had lived such a deplorable life of madness, so much so that the powers that be wouldn't even promise him a mansion in heaven if Jim's plan to help Jonathan, worked or not. And before Jon too crossed the boundaries of complete mental illness becoming a worse villain that Jim had been. But he couldn't bare the thought of Jonathan becoming what he was, or worse – so he begged to be able to return and make things right for the kid, if he could. And too, now that David had tried to torch the club, he would have to beg again to help the group, (Bruce, Greg, Tony, Peter and Jonathan), repair it and have an income to fall back on until the business got back on its feet. Jonathan was supposed to have already deciphered the encryptions and gotten the business going again. But, the kid just had too many distractions going on and the business was just before tumbling to the foundations. Jim thought to himself that he was just going to have to move that disc to where Jonathan couldn't help but find it and be able to translate the encryptions and start to work on salvaging the business, before they all ended up loosing everything. As for the club, he knew that Bruce and Greg could put their heads together and be able to keep the orders and such, just by going back through the previous orders and following suit. The roof could be repaired, as well as the DJ's equipment and the furniture that had been damaged by the water used to combat the fire. But the building hadn't sustained enough damage to warrant being torn down, for any reason. The club could actually be reopened in a matter of a week or two and bring in an income for the group. And this time it could be done right, without the drugs, prostitution and other extracurricular activity that was going on. It would stand on its own, and Jim knew that. It was David that was so adamant about all the other paraphernalia being added to it and keeping it going, he knew that now. And he let the weasel beguile him into so much, feeding on his state of mind, knowing he would make a good DON, or whatever they call them. And he finally began to enjoy the power he felt from it, the ability to do whatever he wanted without repercussions. Oh, but little did he know that the biggest of those was the effect he had on Jonathan's life and mind. Still he felt that his repentance was nothing short of a teardrop compared to what he had done to Jonathan's life. He understood the kid's need for punishment, being he too felt it even as he stood there looking on. And he could feel the distinct craving for pain that Jonathan knew all too well. And he did so want to help the kid so badly he could taste it, and feel it so keenly. So, that was why he was back, to undo all the bad that he had done and help Jonathan before he literally lost his mind. Bruce and Greg walked in, and it made him smile faintly to himself. He almost wished he could manifest himself to them and talk to them, as he had been able to do with Jonathan. But, their minds were locked against him, and their eyes closed to him completely, so he hadn't been able to appear to them like he had been with Jon. Tony, on the other hand, he begun to believe the day that he had manhandled Jonathan into his room, the day that Jonathan had yelled at his uncle and Tony tried desperately to see whom he had been talking too. Maybe if he showed himself to Tony and explained things to him a little, he could get his work done faster and before the day he would be snatched away - forever gone and helpless to do anything at all. Quickly a plan began to ensue in his mind that just might work and bring things up to speed so he could concentrate on helping Jonathan's state of mind and get Peter back home again. A Timeless Place Ch. 18 At 2 am in the morning Anton Mikhailovich picked up the hand piece of the phone. He knew it was – him – the man that had called him two mornings prior offering him a large sum of money for a special favor. And he had been waiting for his call to come. His expression showed approval as the phone began to ring the second the long hand struck the hour. When he answered it, the same static came over the phone as it had the first time they had spoken. He waited for the greeting the voice on the other end made before he gave his answer. "I have decided to accept your offer," he stated, then listened to the instructions from the other end as to what to do to receive his payment. "It will be done as you say," he returned, realizing the person on the other end wasn't a fool at all. He had to perform a certain duty in order to get his money wired to his Swiss bank account. It seemed the voice on the other end knew it was the only account he held that his government could not plunder, or investigate, especially after he had split the entire sum up into several smaller accounts that would cloak the transaction. When he hung up the phone, he sat for a minute thinking before he picked up the hand piece again, and dialed a number, waiting as it rang. A Timeless Place Ch. 19 Disclaimer: this chapter contains a scene in which a dream is taking place. May I please remind you that this is a story of fiction and does not necessarily reflect the views of this site, or the owners, or writers. If you do not agree with these views, then please close this chapter and continue onto someone else's story. Again, may I please remind you that this is a fiction story and could be rated as horror/supernatural? I appreciate your feedback though I am not inclined to agree with any negative feedback I might receive from submitting this. Your views are just that – you own opinion. And though I have included this scene in this chapter as a pivotal point in changing the life of the main character, and after much research and study on my part, it doesn't necessarily reflect what I believe, or not believe. You know me… always dabbling in the controversial. :D I hope you enjoy your reading. Greg pushed the railing of the bed down and jumped atop the nineteen-year-old, straddling his body, after waking up to the tune of a flat line from the monitor over his head where he had been sitting. He had checked the clip on the forefinger, hoping it had only slipped off, but it hadn't. Years of experience and instinct took over, as he began compressions keeping Jonathan alive until help could arrive. "I need some help in here!" he called out to anyone that would hear him, stopping what he was doing only long enough to check for a pulse. "C'me on, Jonathan!" he grumbled coarsely. "You have to fight, son! And I am not gonna just let you go," he fussed as he continued to administer compressions. "Hey!" he stopped, pushing the button on the intercom. "I've gotta code blue in here!" his shout into the contraption, near the patient's head, he could hear from the nurses' station clear into the room where he was. "Damn hospitals," he grumbled more. "Can't get no good help these days," he continued to keep Jonathan alive, pressing upon the boy's chest in rhythm. Finally the room became full with nurses, doctors and other hospital staff. The hustle and bustle in the room was a dramatic change from just a few minutes prior and though it seemed chaotic, they all had a job to do – fighting against time and death to bring Jonathan back. Greg remained close by the head doctor to assist him, though he knew he should be standing back watching, like he was supposed to do. But, he just couldn't stand idly by and watch. He had to be a part of the action in some way, even if it was minute. The few minutes that it took to bring Jonathan back seemed much longer to everyone. Silence filled the room as relieved professionals stood by staring at the monitor, watching the line peek at even intervals. It was short lived when Jonathan's body began to convulse. "Clear the airway!" Greg and the head doctor called out in unison. They glanced at each other as they attempted to keep the patient from being injured because of his body's involuntary jerking about. "If I didn't know any better, Dr. Carroll, I'd think you've been missing all of this action," the head doctor jested lightly. Greg chuckled, "ya think?" "Maybe we have a position open that you could fill after this little man gets back on his feet," the man offered kindly. "Thank you, I'll look into that," Greg returned. "Well, I do believe something is amiss here, doctor," he looked up at Greg with some assured expression that he had his suspicions about something. "I want an MRI and C-SCAN STAT!" "I would agree, doctor," Greg replied solemnly. "I think we should go in, after we get him stabilized again, and look around, see what's going on inside his head," the man jested again, though he was serious. "Oh, Lord," Greg chuckled. "That could be dangerous, knowing Jonathan." The head doctor laughed, then pulled his nurse aside instructing her to call up to the O.R. and have them prepare for surgery in about an hour. "You might want to call the rest of the family, Dr. Carroll. Looks like it's going to be a long night. Someone will stay with him while you do that," the professional turned back to Greg saying kindly. Greg nodded then quickly left the room. A Timeless Place Ch. 19 Tony watched as Bruce almost knocked the man down, threw his arms around him and hugged him long and tight. It took him a minute to realize who the man was that Bruce had suddenly ran out of the room to hug. His eyes became saucer-like as his heart leapt into this throat. He rushed from the waiting room to join them then realized Bruce had finally broken down in the man's arms. While he held Bruce tight, Peter reached an arm to Tony, pulling him into his side. "Tell me, my friend. Tell me everything," he spoke softly. Not long after Jonathan's response, he slipped back into his comatose state. His regression was more a retreat this time, than a medical problem. Head pain had always been something Jonathan had never been able to withstand. Even a mild headache at times would cause him to become weepy and edgy. And with the amount of pain he was feeling when he finally did begin to rouse from this state, he knew he couldn't bare it. And while he lay in his renewed absence of reality, he began to dream. Jonathan saw himself lying in eternal rest surrounded by cream silk lining, handsomely polished wood and brass. His expression was serene as he rested in quiet repose, dressed in a dark three piece suit of pinstripes, a rose stem stuffed in his breast pocket. His natural color had paled somewhat – however, he looked divinely handsome to all that walked by to view him. A garden of flowers was packed tightly around his vessel into the unknown, each wreath and arrangement absolutely stunning in its own right. It seemed he had become an unwilling participant as mourners walked by, some two and three at a time, shedding tears of remorse for his sudden passage, onto the other side. He felt such a deep hurt for each of them, a separation from them that could never be repaired, or breached. The distance between him and the world they lived in was a single step away, yet a vastness that many couldn't fathom, not even Jonathan. The service seemed long and oppressive as Bruce, Greg and Tony gave their eulogy. Jonathan's favorite song was played as the people wandered out of the large sanctuary and he was rolled and placed into the back of the hearse. Tears filled his eyes as he watched them close the lid, sealing his seeming lifeless and embalmed body in eternal darkness. Fear gripped his heart that he would forever be separated from his loved ones for all time. The funeral procession was long, cars following the hearse for miles and miles stretching from the sanctuary to the cemetery across town. Other passers by pulled over paying their respects to the dead and those left to survive. Many walking in town leaned to others inquiring as to who it was that had such a following that it took so long for the procession to be done. "It must be some city official, or someone very important," one commented. "Well, I heard it was some prostitute that everyone in town had been with at least once," the other whispered. "I didn't know about her," the first claimed then. "It wasn't a her, dope. It was a him." "Oh, you seem to know a lot about this guy. Did you sleep with him?" "How dare you!" the second replied with self-indignation and piety. Jonathan's heart was torn by the rumors that hissed around him in whispers. The sadness was maddening, the pain he felt crushing, and his fear was overwhelming. He tried to scream and let everyone know that he was still alive and well. But no one seemed to want to hear his cries and rescue him from the eternal grave. His lips were sealed shut; as were his eyes and he could scarcely breathe but for the pinhole left in his nose. He felt utterly helpless and alone, terror crashing around him as he continued to see these visions play out as if they were as real as the noonday sun. Everyone gathered around the coffin, the priest read from Psalms 32, mourners wailed – Greg wept in sobs, leaning on Bruce, as he did. Tony wiped his eyes trying desperately to be strong for the other two, though Jonathan could see right through him. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…" Jonathan could see that Tony's pain was intense. He was made aware that the man wanted so much to change the outcome of what had happened, but it was well out of Tony's hands and control, and for that the man was deeply self-destructive. His thoughts beat him over and again for not remaining awake to keep Jonathan from wandering off alone. The anger he felt toward David for what he had done to his little pal was fathomless, as deep as an endless chasm. "…He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He restoreth my soul…" Bruce stared numbly off into the distance seemingly unaffected by it all, though everything that appeared to be was only the quiet before the storm. In the days that would follow, the man would break down, having to be hospitalized and sedated by heavy drugs to keep him calm. And though he would be able to see Greg and Tony through the worse of their pain, his would be far greater than the rest. For his love, though it was no deeper than that of Tony or Greg's had become the very foundation upon what his family had been based upon. And Jonathan had been the pivotal point of that sanctuary Bruce held so close, and had been such an important part of the man's life. "…He leadeth me through the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me…" Greg sobbed more, in response, allowing his pain to surface, flow and be purged from his being. His tears were the very evidence of his love and care for the one that was about to be lowered into the ground, covered and never seen again, until such time as Greg was called home to be with Jonathan and those that had passed on before him. His face tucked deep in Bruce's neck and shoulder, he wailed horribly, it muffled by the jacket Bruce had on. Jonathan began to weep for the pain his family felt. He couldn't bare it any longer and wanted so much to get up from where he lay, and console them all. What he had seen pass before his eyes in those last few seconds disturbed him terribly. A forlorn feeling of additional death fringing upon his loss plagued him so that he thought of every way he could to prevent it. But, nothing appeared to help him and no matter how he tried he couldn't move. The dream shifted, and all was silent. The mourners and his family had all left the cemetery, leaving him alone with his terror, and the overwhelming sense that all had been lost. He felt the casket lowering. Fear gripped his heart horribly choking even the faintest sound he made in an attempt to get somebody's attention. And for all the time he had lain in the box, he could see nothing but darkness, or the images that passed before his mind's eye in a surreal form. But as he rested, attempting to move, or scream, or make some sort of sound, he could see the cemetery workers beginning to throw dirt atop the box. It was as if someone had erased a part of the lid of the coffin that he was staring up through, watching the workers throw shovel after shovel of dirt over him. Again and again, he tried to scream, but his vocal cords would not even work. With everything he had in him, he attempted to bang against the lid of the box, but his body never even flinched. He began to realize that he was faced with the horror of being buried alive, that he would literally die in that box, a pre-made funeral that he was a witness to. It was over and he would never see his family again. He became angry that he had been such a fool to allow so many emotions to rule him, instead of being strong and dealing with them, or letting the ones that loved him so deeply help him muddle through them. Every moment he had shrugged off his family just to cut his arms, or try to kill himself, or even just to be alone with his pain, came resounding back into his mind, riveted with worse feelings than he had ever had before. Tormenting feelings that coursed so deeply he again wanted to scream but couldn't. The maddening noise of dirt being thrown onto the lid of the box finally stopped leaving Jonathan with the even more discomforting quiet that surrounded him. He was finally able to open his eyes and see the pitch-blackness that engulfed him completely. His mouth came open and he sucked in air that was fast growing stale and unbreathable. Moving his arms, he stretched feeling cramped and tried desperately to get out of the box he was in, hoping that he could dig his way up through the earth before he suffocated. Without warning, the earth around him began to rumble, vibrating every part of his being. He scrambled to get onto his knees and push with his shoulders against the lid as hard as he could. To no avail, he still continued to frantically push against the lid, looking down through the bottom of his coffin, seeing through layers of crested earth, rock, and shale to an endless chasm below him. Molten lava flowed beneath him as far as his eyes could see. And above it was layer upon layer of what, he didn't know, nor could he conceive. The ground beneath his coffin gave way and he began to fall. As he did, the polished wood around him disintegrated into an oblong ball of fire, descending around him faster than he was falling. He screamed with terror, reaching for anything to grab hold of and stop his descent, as he saw the coffin engulfed in flames and disappear into tiny floating embers. His ears became filled with the sounds of rumbling fire, from the lava below, as well as weeping, wailing, and curses being screamed at God, or whomever they blamed for their plight that was tormenting to him. He began to pass through the layers, seeing tormented disembodied spirits, some hunched on their hands and knees in the fetal position confined in small cubby-like rooms with no room for them to move in any direction. Further down, were more of these, hundreds of thousands of millions that were crammed into these tiny areas, all manner of insects, snakes and crawling things scurrying or slithering over and around the tormented spirits. Each one had passed on with whatever craving they had had when they died, some smokers, alcoholics, drug users, sexually addicted, gluttons, thieves, murders, liars, cutters, and so on. They were all impoverished, naked forms that none of them had taken anything of material with them – no food, clothes, money, boats, cars, houses, trains, planes, yachts, or anything they had possessed and loved in life. Jonathan began to suddenly realize he was falling into hell itself and wondered what level of hell he would finally end up in. His screams mingled with that of those long passed on before him. He could literally see the vaporous clouds rising from the lake of lava toward him – the stifling, suffocating, sultry heat of the pyre below him. Agonizing heat, searing pain, maddening torture, coursed through him and around him. The offensive odor of sulfur swirled around him causing him to coil; yet he couldn't be free of it. The smell and taste of it, along with the searing heat that surrounded him accompanied every breath he took. Below him he began to see forms bobbing in the lake of lava-like substance, bright oranges, blacks and reds merging and dividing as it constantly moved. Their spirit bodies shuddered from the intense heat, consumed yet not destroyed by the flames that rose from every part of their beings. And Jonathan began to feel a dread and terror that that was where he would end his seeming fathomless fall. "Oh, God, no – please," he implored with a shout. "Jonathan!" he faintly heard above the cries, screams and shouts that surrounded him, including his very own. Looking up, he saw an arm stretched down toward him, the fingers of the hand outstretched to him. It was all he interpreted before he finally lifted his eyes to see whose arm it was that was extended to him "Take my hand, Jonathan!" the familiar voice resounded then, reverberating through him, riveting his body with even more pain. And when he construed who it was, his first thought was that it was some form of trickery that he couldn't trust at all. "Jonathan, the choice is yours. You can remain here for the rest of eternity, or you can trust me, take my hand and let me save you from this," the voice boomed around him rumbling the very walls of hell itself, causing boulders and rocks to become dislodged and fall to the lake below them. Tears filled Jonathan's eyes stinging him as they streamed down his face, evaporating before they could even reach the jawline. "Jonathan, all my life I've done wrong and deserve this fate. But, you –." The sound of his choked words caught in his throat assailed Jonathan making the boy sob. "Just take my hand, Jonathan, please," he pleaded. Jonathan finally reached up, stretching with all his might, the hand he grabbed having become slippery with perspiration from the sweltering heat. Their fingers curled within the others, the two of them hung onto each other for dear life. Jonathan looked up into the face of his Uncle, who then began to pull him up and out of the hell that he was in. As he moved upward, the face slowly disappeared, fading into that of another. Shocked, Jonathan almost let go, but the familiarly strong hand grasped his wrist. "No, child," his voice coursed through him like so many stings of prickling needles. "You must return. Your time has not yet come." *** Darkness surrounded him again. The taste and odor of sulfur still fresh in his mouth and nostrils; he flinched as Peter's gentle voice caught his ear, reverberating painfully through his head, as he surfaced from the unconscious state he had been in. He winced from it, the pounding of his head was unrelenting and heavy to him, as if someone had placed it in a vise and was constantly tightening it. And he was sure that he could feel the pulsing of his blood through the tiny capillaries in his brain. The pressure behind his eyes was so much so that he feared they would explode. It was so agonizing to him that tears formed, leaking from his eyes – but he had never really been able to tolerate any type of head pain at all. And though he knew the moment he opened his eyes that pain would be multiplied, but he had to see and know for certain that Peter had returned. "Come back to us, Jonathan," the man whispered faintly. "You must return to us." His eyelids fluttered, finding them so very heavy and difficult to open, but, finally, he managed to force them open if only a slit to look through and see the man's face. It took a moment for them to focus only seeing a silhouette standing over him. And the lights in the room were painfully bright to him. "Lights please," he muttered to the man that hovered close to his face. He felt the warmth of someone's hand holding his. And just mere speaking caused him to close his eyes tight and wince. "He wants the lights off," he heard Bruce's normal voice that bounced around between his ears as if his head was a basketball court. The pain was so great to him that he kept his eyes closed tightly and began to weep openly. "What's wrong, Jonathan?" Greg must have been standing nearby, because his voice was louder than the rest. "It hurts, Greg," the boy muttered to him softly forcing the person that hovered close to lean further into him and listen carefully. "I believe he is in much pain, Greg," Peter whispered. "And I also believe our voices are effecting that pain more." "Then we'll do something about it," Bruce whispered. Jonathan didn't see him leave the room, but he felt the absence of his presence suddenly. It almost made him feel bereft because of it. "Peter?" Jonathan mumbled. "Yes, child, I am here," the man spoke on his breath. The youth sighed in relief of the fact that Peter was truly back. "I had a terrible dream, Peter," he confessed but wasn't sure he could talk about it yet. "Then save it for when you are feeling better, then you can tell us all about it, Jonathan," Greg advised softly. A Timeless Place Ch. 20 Six months later, Jonathan sat at his Uncle's desk with Tony seated right beside him who was showing him the various files contained on the hard drive of the computer. He was instructed, step by step, how to navigate each one and continue the orders and pay outs that would keep the business running. It didn't go unnoticed that many of the files had been removed, leaving only half of what had been there the last time Jonathan had tried to decipher the codes. But, he didn't ask many questions knowing Tony would tell him if it were that important. And with the strange happenings that had been going on in the mansion since they had been there, he really didn't need to ask. He assumed that Mr. Bowman must have made a special appearance of some kind to Tony and told him what to do and where to look. For that matter, Jonathan had seen the particular disc that Tony had slipped into the drive prior to their session, but had thought it only contained a program for the computer. It made since though that if Mr. Bowman wanted to hide the code translations that he would do such a thing as write 'word processor' on the disc. So, he didn't let it bother him at all that he had been fooled into thinking that, being it was what was supposed to be thought in the first place. In the last six months, he had been undergoing rigorous therapy to regain the use of some of his other faculties. Walking was one of those that had plagued him to utter determination. He once confided to Tony that he would die first before he would be bound to a wheelchair – and so far, he had made good on that promise. The finite usage of his hands and fingers were being addressed as well. Just sitting at the computer operating the mouse had once been a frustrating task for the kid. But his resolution to be a whole man once again would not allow that to stop him at all. Short-term memory problems had surfaced, causing the family to be even more patient with him. He would often forget things as soon as they were told to him, but had come to a mildly humorous solution by hanging a small notepad around his neck, with pen attached that he would scribble in when given important information. But then, if he could just remember to look at it once in a while, everything would be perfect. All in all, it was getting better though. He was recalling more short-term information than he had been. Although, many days he just couldn't remember anything at all. Most of the time, it just depended upon what mood he was in or how he felt that day. Greg was away that morning, having gone to the hospital to check on an existing position he might be able to fill. Everyone had agreed that it would be good for the doctor to go back to work, utilizing his skills and at the same time, keeping him sane. At least the rest of them wouldn't be blaming him for it being he was just practically bored slap out of his mind. So, driving the rest of them crazy seemed to be the most obvious thing for the doctor to do. Tony had had his hands full with running the new club. It was almost obvious to them all that he might had found his new niche in the family and was enjoying it but seemed to miss using his other skills as a nursing bodyguard, and so forth. They all supported his tremendous efforts in getting the club up and back to running again. The new club had all the amenities as the old one, minus the drugs and prostitution that was once in the background of running the place. It was also practically running itself. The profits each night were outstanding, given the new additions that Tony had basically thought up and implemented. It also added to the excitement of the place drawing in a larger crowd than what had been there before. It was beginning to be believed that a new building was in order. A multi-story building in that each floor would house a different genre of music thereby satisfying a greater number of patrons. Peter had come to Tony about opening a P.I. service that would also help with some income to the family. Both of them were registered firearms experts as well as highly trained in detective work and other areas of investigation. It would give them a chance to utilize what skills they had accrued and also enjoyed. It was discussed with the family during the dinner meal the night before to gain the feedback of the rest of the crew. Bruce suggested they should hire Jonathan to help with answering the phones and doing the office work at which the kid became a little nervous though excited to help whenever he could. Of course, Tony and Greg suggested that Bruce could also help by filling in as a secondary office person or even some legwork once in a while. It soon grew to include Greg as a fill in for medical situations. In the end, they all agreed it was a superb idea. Someone knocked on the door as Tony was helping Jonathan with the business files. Jonathan, who was so enwrapped in his work, never heard the knock at the door. But, Tony called to whomever it was, bidding them to enter. A tall man with short black hair and a dark tan entered the room dressed in a three-piece business suit. His gait was full and determined, though gracefully poised as if he had been reared from a very distinguished background. Long limbs added to the handsome man's features that made Tony take notice of him right away. He rose slowly from where he had been sitting, as the man seemed resolute in coming into full view of Jonathan, if no one else. Tony knew he had seen this man before, but couldn't recall when or where. And it concerned him that the man had yet to speak a word to either him, or Jonathan, as he stepped further into the center of the room. "May I help you?" Tony finally asked, drawing Jonathan's attention from what he was doing. "No, but I've come to see the boy," the man stated with some finality. The sound of his familiar voice rippled through Jonathan causing him to shudder. He looked up from the computer screen to see the man standing before him. At first he didn't believe his eyes, having not seen the man since the first day they had returned to the mansion. "I've received a very –" the man stopped abruptly for a moment looking away from Jonathan's stare as if he didn't even deserve to be seen by the kid. "...Strange visit from a mutual acquaintance," he barely looked back at Jonathan to say. "It's time we had a little discussion about your parents, Jonathan." "Don't you think this is a little sudden?" Tony asked with deep concern. Jonathan felt himself begin to tremble from the inside out. A line of perspiration formed over his upper lip, as he was suddenly flooded with overwhelming warmth that was almost nauseating to him. He placed his hand on the arms of the chair and attempted to stand – only to plop back down in the chair, as if his legs had no strength at all. "Stay, Jonathan." The man held up a hand to him and it was obvious this was most uncomfortable for the man. "Just sit still and try to relax. Do you need a drink, son?" the obvious concern in the man's expression and in his voice caused Tony to suddenly look up at him not having expected it. "I think I do," Jonathan looked up at Tony who stood over him. "Okay, baby," the man leaned down planting his lips to Jon's lovingly before he stood again and went to the bar. "Mr. Preston," Jonathan almost muttered inaudibly. "Who visited you?" Joshua shifted from one foot to the other nervously it seemed. And it appeared he was trying to decide how to answer that question. "Won't you have a seat?" Jonathan then motioned to one of the two chairs that were facing the desk where Jonathan watched the man find the one closest to him to park in. "I'm sorry this is such short notice, Jonathan. But the – " Mr. Preston cleared his throat before continuing. "...The mutual acquaintance was quite adamant that I do this today." "I've never seen you like this before, Joshua. Did Jim scare you?" Jonathan looked up while he spoke, as Tony handed him the drink he had asked for. "You could say that, yes," Mr. Preston returned with a brief nod. "So, you saw him, too?" Jonathan leaned on his arms on the desk still not having taken the first sip of his drink. His expression exuded a need for confirmation of what he had also seen on several occasions. "Yes, Jonathan." The man looked down as if he wanted to burst into tears. "I saw him, I felt him, I heard every word he spoke to me." "What did he do to you, Joshua?" Jonathan wanted desperately to come up out of the chair he sat in feeling a deep need to console the man across from him. He tried as hard as he could to stand up, yet his legs still wouldn't cooperate with him. Finally, he looked up at Tony for assistance. "Jonathan, just please," Mr. Preston held up a hand. "Stay where you are. You're fine right there," he added. "I need to stretch my legs, Joshua." Jonathan was determined not to let the man placate him in any way. If he wanted to get up and walk around, he would – by God. Tony helped Jonathan to his feet, then let the young man hold onto him while he slowly stepped from behind the desk to the chair beside Joshua. It was then that Mr. Preston noticed the boy's new hair growth and that it had grown to shoulder length so quickly. "You're looking good, Jonathan. You've come a long way since your surgery," Mr. Preston commented to the kid with a tender smile. Tony listened as he went back to the desk to retrieve the drink he had made for Jonathan. He ambled back to where the boy was sitting and handed it to him. Then he stepped over to the far side of the office, near the balcony doors, picked up a chair that he carried back setting it down right beside Jonathan. Once he was seated, he leaned forward propping his forearms on his thighs to listen to the conversation. "Thank you, Mr. Preston, " Jonathan had smiled sheepishly while Tony was getting the chair. He looked down at his glass, which he realized he still hadn't drunk from yet. Lifting it to his lips he took a couple swallows feeling the relaxing warmth of the alcohol almost right away. "Jonathan, this isn't going to be easy for you to hear –" "You still haven't answered my question, Joshua," Jonathan cut him off deliberately wanting to know the entire truth from start to finish. "What did Jim do to you?" "Now, Jonathan," Mr. Preston half laughed, giving the young man a quirky little grin. It was one of those that Jonathan knew was a disapproving smile a parent would give. "Son, you know better than to interrupt someone when they're talking." Tony chuckled, "he's forgotten a few of his manners since he's been out of the hospital." "No, I haven't forgotten. I've just realized a few things is all." "Like what, Jonathan?" Mr. Preston's professional attributes kicked in suddenly. "Like how people take each other for granted, and that we don't ask enough questions from our friends, who need us to ask every now and then, even if it does seem like prying. And that everything we do has a consequence, no matter if we realize, or believe that or not. And we all take life for granted, many think it useless and mundane, where others hate the lives they live and never work through what makes them feel that way. We're all headed somewhere, whether we believe it or not. And from what I've seen, I want no part of that at all. None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes, some more than others do. But, it's not our place to judge them for those mistakes." "Give him an hour and he'll be finished, Joshua," Tony jested. The man laughed lightly, "I take it you've already heard all of this before." "More than once," Tony laughed sitting back against the chair then propped an ankle on his thigh. "Well, it does appear to have made a change or two in his thinking. And whatever it was, I'm sure served its purpose," the man suggested seriously. "Oh, it has, believe me," Tony stated then. "He's a changed man, now. Why, we don't even have to fuss at him about eating anymore, except to just remind him once in a great while. But, that's only because he's gotten so busy doing something that he's forgotten." "I heard you had a terrifying dream, Jonathan. And if it helped you, then I'm glad it happened, for your sake," Joshua studied the young man thoroughly noticing he felt a bit uncomfortable being discussed so openly. "Jim came to see me last night. He was a little upset that I hadn't told you about your parents the last time I was here," he began to volunteer, veering them away from the prior subject. "What happened?" Jonathan leaned forward a little; his expression was one of great interest. "Oh, he did the old ghost, ball and chain, act to start with. I honestly think he was just having a little fun with me. And when I finally called his bluff, he politely picked me up and flung me across the room like the rag doll I was. Then he in no other terms informed me that I would tell you what he had done to your parents, or I would feel worse than that when he was finished with me." "What HE did to my parents?" Jonathan repeated a little surprised to hear it. "Yes, what he did to your parents," Joshua hung his head wishing it didn't have to be told to the little man after all he had already been through. "What did he do, Joshua?" the tone was one that suggested it wasn't a request to know either. "Jonathan, when you were five, he made an offer to your mother that she didn't appreciate very much at all –" "What offer, Joshua?" There was that tone again. "Son, I will tell you what is pertinent for you to know. Other than that, forget it," the man answered firmly. Jonathan's eyes cut to the man for a second, but seemed to cool almost instantly from the heated glance. "Your mother and Jim once used to get along quite well when he would go to visit. And he did so often, bringing you little toys and her something special. He seemed to care a lot about her. I believe that he did. He just didn't know how to control his temper, or his passions. He was never one to keep his thoughts or much else to himself. "Of course, hubby found out about Jim's proposition, becoming quite furious with the whole situation. He began to believe that there was more going on between Christy and her brother than there truly was. This became a problem when your father began to make accusations to Christy about Jim's many visits. "Jim being the honorable brother he was, came to her defense, facing your father about his accusations. Tensions were high and a lot of angry words were traded, when your father took a swing at Jim. Of course, Jim defended himself, but he had always been a little high strung. And I believe he never meant to actually kill your father at all. "Christy became hysterical, threatening to call the police. Jim knew he would be hung from the highest tree if they ever caught him. He tried to plead with her to just give him a chance to get out of the country, but she was adamant that Jim had murdered your father in cold blood. In her upset, she found her a butcher knife that she came at Jim with, only she didn't make it to him before she tripped over you landing on the knife." "She tripped over me?" Jonathan's voice quivered with the pain he felt from hearing all of this news. "Yes, it seems you were playing on the floor and why she didn't notice you there when she came out of the kitchen, I don't know. I've never understood that part of this story." "Jim told you this story?" Jon asked glancing askance over at Mr. Preston. "Yes, he did," the man nodded in confirmation while he replied. "And you believed him?" "I believe the first part, Jonathan. Your father called me that afternoon in a rage wanting to know if I had seen Jim at all and that he wanted a piece of him – 'if he could find the snake'. And those were his words. "As far as your mother, I'm not really sure I do believe it. I have my suspicions that something else occurred between your mother and her brother that caused Jim to have to defend himself again, or he lost his cool and killed her." Mr. Preston sighed heavily. "It wasn't until after it all happened that he began to change drastically. The man I used to know as Mr. James Bowman was never the same man again. Jonathan, your Uncle once loved people the way that I've seen in you. He was a gentle sort, but he didn't take anything off of anyone, especially where his sister was concerned." "Joshua, where are my parents?" Jonathan asked with a deadly low tone that used to frighten Mr. Preston about Jim. "Your Uncle is the only man that knows where their bodies were placed. You see, without a body of evidence, your parents were only listed as missing, but presumed dead – after a several weeks searching for them that came up empty." Jonathan grasped the arms of the chair, lifting himself up onto wobbling legs. Mr. Preston and Tony stood right away to assist the young man who drew back from Tony in obvious emotional duress. But, the man persisted, grasping Jonathan's arm firmly, but not overly so, as the youth began to teeter backwards. "Leave me alone, Tony," he grumbled wanting desperately to be alone for a while. He needed to think through all of this and make up his mind what he would and wouldn't believe for himself. "Jonathan, you know the answer to that. Not on your life, especially when you're upset," Tony returned sternly. The words were on his lips and tongue when Jonathan groaned long, fighting them back before he said something he truly didn't mean. He pressed his hands into Tony's chest giving the man a shove that didn't amount to much at all. The man remained firmly placed where he stood, but grabbed Jonathan when he began to fall. "Damn it, Jonathan. Don't make me have to call Bruce and Peter in here! We'll tan your hide, boy!" Tony reached down lifting the young man that had sat down on the carpeted floor. He pulled Jonathan to him holding him firmly to his body. "Perhaps, you should, Tony," Mr. Preston suggest then. Tony nodded to the man as his lips drifted deep into the young man's ear, "Jonathan, you know I love you and would never let anything happen to you. But, I'm also not going to be treated like this," he whispered adamantly. Jonathan then broke into sobs. He suddenly felt safe in Tony's arms realizing he needed them, and to be near him. His body trembled as he embraced the man and buried his face in the Tony's neck and shoulder. Holding on strongly, he knew it wouldn't be long before the man would be forced to put him back in his chair, for his legs were most uncooperative – having no strength in them whatsoever. Mr. Preston migrated to the door, leaving for a short time. When he returned, Bruce and Peter were right behind him. They entered the room silently, surrounding Tony and Jonathan in the event they might be needed for assistance. They all watched as Tony had sucked in his lower lip, biting down on it while he rubbed the young man's back up and down. His arms strongly holding Jonathan to him and his head leaning against the youth's. In all of the riveting emotions that exuded from Jonathan at that moment, none of them ever noticed the presence that silently had entered the room with them. He stood in the darkest corner, an expression of tremendous pain written on his face. His eyes glistened in the low lighting of that corner of the room while he watched his nephew mourn as it should have been long ago. How he wanted to hold Jonathan and help the young man through all of this, but he knew in the back of his mind that could never be. Jonathan would hate him the remainder of his days. The relationship they once had was finished, as was the new one that had been formed only recently. Their bond was broke by Jim's treachery and lies. He would forever be bound where he was due to Jonathan's unforgiving. A Timeless Place Ch. 20 In utter shame and self-loathing, he hung his head and wept silently. But, he did so with the freedom of knowing that Jonathan had finally learned the truth about his parents, at least the part of the truth that he wanted Jonathan to know. And with that he slipped away unnoticed by any of those in the room.