A Timeless Place

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.