A Timeless Place

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.

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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.

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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.