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.

*****

Tony could sense the man following him and he knew Peter would be close behind. His mind became a sudden conglomerate of scenarios that might have a severe impact on them and the establishment. What he didn't want to happen was most likely what might transpire, and he would be there to possibly fumble the attempt at best.

Knowing the man was too close behind to dart into another room, he continued to the men's room where he quickly ducked into a stall, closing the door. Standing on the toilet he crouched waiting for his predator. His ears perked as the door opened, his hand reached for his weapon and silencer.

One by one, the doors of the stalls were being opened, each cubicle checked for his presence. His pulse rushed through his veins almost pounding out a loud tempo in his ears. A line of perspiration beaded over his upper lip. He forced his breathing to remain calm, low and silent.

His arms propped on his thighs; he coiled when the man tried the door of the stall where he was. When it didn't open, he anticipated him reaching for his weapon. In the same instant, Peter entered the room, becoming an open target to the man. But, before he could react upon it, Tony lunged from the stall.

The two men slid across the floor, Tony, making contact with the other, sending them splaying to the floor. Stunned momentarily, he scrambled to ward the other man off, desperate to keep him from shooting Peter outright. But, before he could manage it, the man was up. He felt the sudden tremendous pain accompanied by a buzz, lights flashing across his vision just before blackness claimed him.

*****

A soft moan escaped the doctor whose arms were wrapped around Jonathan's thin, but developing frame. Their lips were meshed against the others, engaged in a long ardent kiss. Jonathan's hands slowly eased down over the man's back drawing him in closer, tighter to him.

He could feel every part of him snuggly pressed against him now. And as wonderful as that was to him, it just didn't seem to be enough. A hand slipped down the small of the man's back, moving inertly over his bottom. There, he firmly pulled him closer as he wedged his thigh between the doctor's.

Both of them were normally submissive to their partners, not usually taking the lead in most sexual encounters. Yet, it seemed that Jonathan would explore the area of being more assertive than he normally was. Greg didn't seem to mind that at all, as he followed his lead comfortably.

The kiss became a fervently heated affectation of need and rising urgency. The deeper they affected it, the more they seemed to desire of it. Long searching sweeps, tightly connected lips that occasionally slid across the other's, hands that plundered expectantly, soft moans escaping one or the other, all became the order of the moment. An urgent plea of need that neither of them could deny coursed throughout the atmosphere of the room.

Greg's body was so heightened by Jonathan's attentions; every tiny hair stood on end, wave after wave of thrilling arousal washing over him. The slightest touch of Jonathan's hands and fingers seemed to singe them as they drifted lightly over his flesh. Seeking out whatever goal, they're purpose known to them both, they would linger here and there to tease a most sensitive area.

Greg shivered violently, snatching air into his lungs in the same moment. He exhaled a shuddering breath as he drew back to look into Jonathan's eyes. A slight grin tugged at the corners of his lips, the expression in his eyes told of alluring mischief. All the while the backs of his fingers traveled lightly down the doctor's chest and abdomen. Further they drifted, effortlessly searching their goal. Greg shivered time and again because of the effectual light touch.

Their eyes locked in a mutual stare, the hand finally settled over the prominent outline of Greg's manhood. The fingers teased, trailing down over the length gracefully, slowly, before the entire hand rested against it, though it was hidden beneath the material of the pants he wore.

The doctor's head dropped back, his mouth gaping as he shuddered again. Then abruptly, he lifted his head pressing this forehead against Jonathan's collarbone. Trembling, he sucked in quick gulps of air, moaning between each in rhythm with his sudden release. He clung to Jonathan's body tightly, given to the effect the young man's skills had had on him. Unconsciously, he pressed against his hand as it glided over him.

*****

Bruce cringed suddenly as he rounded the corner to the corridor leading to the men's room. The fire alarm resounded so that he pressed his hands to his ears to mute its high pitched whir. Looking toward the end of the hallway, the fire exit door was slowly closing. He barely caught a glimpse of the man that had been watching them, his hand tightly gripping Peter's arm.

Dashing toward the door, he shoved it open giving no thought of his well being. As soon as he crossed the threshold someone grasped each arm thrusting him back inside the building. The door slammed in his face as he tried once more to get through the door, knocking him back. Loosing his footing, he landed on the carpeted floor.

Scrambling to his feet he started for the door again.

"Sir! You can't go out that door!" Someone called from behind.

He immediately stopped, spinning on the ball of his foot to face the host of the establishment. "Three men just kidnapped my friend! Call the police!" he yelled back at the man.

Obvious confusion contorted the hosts' face as he stood staring at Bruce.

"Please, call the cops, my friend is in danger!" He begged, then turned pushing the door open hard, stepping out in time to see a car speeding out of the driveway. "No!" He ran after them as fast as his legs could carry him. But the driver gunned the accelerator screeching away faster than he could run.

Rushing toward the BMW, he jumped in cranking the engine. Quickly, he was speeding down the street after his lover. His mind was a blur of confusion as he sped to catch up with the rental car ahead. Nothing of Tony entered his mind at the moment. All he could think about was getting Peter back and away from these thugs. And everything was happening so fast; he was reacting, not thinking, really.

As he begun to catch up with the medium sized economy car, he could see Peter in the back seat giving the two blondes a terrible fight. His elbow caught the one on his right in the nose, while he fought with the other, his arm around his throat. Then, suddenly, he lunged forward grasping the steering wheel of the car. It swerved one way, then the other, as he and the driver engaged in a tussle.

Bruce backed off from the car just enough to give them room, in case of an accident. He laughed as he watched Peter do his stuff, literally fighting the man at the wheel vehemently. The sight of the blows to the man's chest were driven hard and repeatedly made him cringe, knowing they were meant to inflict damage and pain. Then Peter grasped the man's face in a hand, wrenching his head back. The other fist was driven hard into the exposed throat. Both of the man's hands came up as he leaned forward fighting to breathe. Peter grasped the wheel, turning the car into the nearest stationary object.

He disappeared from sight, just as the car crashed head-on into a light pole. The car was barreling toward it so fast that the pole literally quivered, the light flickering as it did. Sparks cascaded down from the transformer across the road. Bruce brought the BMW to a screeching halt. Jumping out, he worried that his love was injured or worse.

The hissing of the mangled front end of the vehicle worried him even more as he approached the back of the car. Smoke and steam was rising from it giving him to know that the radiator was now shot. Approaching a back door, he worked to try to get it open. But it wouldn't budge. A tingle skittered down his spin as he saw Peter slumped in the floor of the back, unconscious. His worse fear was that the car suddenly burst into flames and he couldn't get the man out.

Racing around the back of the car again, he tried the other side, but the doors were jammed tight. Going quickly back to the BMW he searched it for some tool he could use to gain access to the back of the car. Popping the trunk he found a crowbar he could use. Elation overcame him then. Adrenaline rushed through him as he came upon the car again. Raring back he swung as hard as he could manage, only to see the rear windshield suddenly become a maze of tiny cracks all throughout, the window still in tact.

The sounds of sirens approaching made him even more determined to get Peter out quickly. He swung furiously making contact with the glass barely putting a small hole in it. With a desperate growl he jumped onto the trunk beginning to pry the window out of the car. Finally, it gave way enough that he could grab hold of it and virtually pull the window out of the car.

"Hey!" Someone yelled at him, but he didn't stop as he tossed the shattered glass behind him with both hands.

"Hey, you cut yourself, man!" The voice called to him again, but he ignored it still.

Climbing in the back seat, he assessed his friend's condition as best he could. His hands roamed his spin and the back of his neck feeling for obvious breaks.

"Don't move 'im, man. His neck could be broken." The same voice called to him. It was then that Bruce looked up at him seeing he was a paramedic. "Let us handle it from here, ok. You need to get those hands looked at." He insisted. "C'me on out o' there." The man reached for him to assist him out of the car.

Bruce conceded, reaching to allow the man to help him climb out through the back window frame. "That's my friend in there." He announced to the paramedic as he felt him grasp his arm above the elbow guiding him along.

"It's alright, we'll take good care of him. I promise." The man affirmed confidently.

"Those other guys kidnapped him." Bruce suddenly choked as realization fell around him.

"Ok, sir. It's all right, now. We won't let anything happen to your friend." The man held to his arm as his partner rushed up to assist Bruce's trembling body off the trunk of the car.

In the same instant a uniform raced toward them helping the paramedic get Bruce down.

"Are you all right? What happened here?" he asked hurriedly.

"Those three guys kidnapped my friend!" Tears began to form in Bruce's eyes, his emotions beginning to overcome him.

"Are you all right?" The uniform asked then.

"I'm fine! Please, help Peter!" He was just before yelling at the man.

"It's fine, sir. What's your name?"

"Bruce...Bruce Crawford...And the man in the floor of the back is Peter Rossenovff. He's trying to naturalize to become a U.S. citizen and these other guys are from Russia. They came to take him back." He explained.

"Like hell they will!" One of the other uniforms nearby listening spoke up strongly.

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it. Just get Peter out, please?" Bruce begged again.

*****

Greg's climactic cries flooded the room, hanging in the air around them. Jonathan dove down his length time and time again, milking him of every last drop of his bittersweet juices. Just the feel of him pulsing in his mouth and throat, the sounds of his pleasure cries and knowing he had effected this, had such an erotic affect on him. He ached terribly, needing gratification. But he wouldn't stop until Greg was satisfied.

Pouring his whole heart into his work, he waited and continued until Greg finally settled. Then, he crawled up the length of his body, leaning his head down; he kissed the man fully. Being surrounded in the man's arms, he was forced to rest atop him.

Greg rolled with them until Jonathan was beneath him, a feel he truly enjoyed above all. Lifting up, he grasped the young man's member easing it into his body as he came down over it. Quickly, he began to ride Jonathan's length. He smiled down at the young man tenderly.

Jonathan reached up, grasping his face in both hands, drawing him to him sealing their lips. His arms went around him pulling him closer so that he was resting fully atop him. Their bodies moved as one unit while they engaged in the kiss. And soon they were slapping out a tempo toward a mutual end.

"I love you so much, Jonathan." Greg whispered hoarsely at him.

"I know, Greg. I know." He breathed heavily, then sealed their mouths once more driving his tongue deep inside Greg's.

The passions of their culmination rose higher than ever before. Jonathan was quickly burying his head into the pillow beneath it. His mouth hung open exuding weighty breaths from his growing excitement. Clutching Greg to him tight, he gave out a sudden roar.

Greg pounded out the rhythm set, continuing for Jonathan's sake. Elation came over him at the sounds of his release, flooding his very being with renewed arousal. He could feel his spasms and the strength of them, as well as hearing him. Soon, he took his mouth strongly, fervently, aggressively kissing him fully.

Swiftly, he grasped the young man's arms, pinning his wrists over his head in one hand. The other gripped his throat as he suddenly began to rape Jonathan's mouth completely. In the heat of the moment, Jonathan locked; his climax heightened so, that he could scarcely bare it. He squealed into Greg's mouth when a renewed onset assailed him abruptly.

Greg chuckled vehemently into his mouth at the affect he had had on him in that moment. He sat up still holding onto Jonathan's wrist, raring his other hand back over his shoulder. Just before he would bring the hand around, the phone on the nightstand began to ring.