The Society is Calling



Ethan didn't think there were many pleasures in life to rival the experience of waking up to Maxmillian Poole's hand on your ass. Unless, of course, Max were to slide his hand a little farther forward -- a little lower, just a little more --

"I see you're up," Max said dryly.

Ethan smiled, his face pressed deep into the pillow. "Part of me is. Why don't you keep him busy while I snooze a little longer?"

"You must have me mistaken for your babysitter."

Ethan snickered. "Good thing you're never going to have kids, Max. I would've had to feel sorry for them when they asked for peanut butter and you handed them port wine pate."

The hand was now exactly where Ethan wanted it. He hummed appreciatively as Maxmillian gently squeezed the firming flesh. Warm lips ghosted over his shoulder, making him shiver.

"Who says I'm not going to have children?" Max murmured against Ethan's ear. He nuzzled the other man's golden blonde hair. "Do you know something I don't?"

Ethan grinned, but kept his eyes closed. "I know that you're stuck with me. And like it or not, I'm not popping out any babies for you, Max. No matter how much you pay me." Feeling reckless, he added mischievously, "Not even if you beg."

Max moved over him, his body pushing Ethan into the soft mattress. Max was taller only by an inch or so and outweighed him by less than ten pounds, but Ethan felt every bit of his lover's physical advantage. He groaned, loving the feel of being beneath Max.

"You know I never beg," Max said huskily, finding Ethan's hands beneath the sheets and pinning them above his head. "I leave that particular honor to you."

Ethan's erection pushed hard against the mattress in response to the words. He rolled his hips, rubbing himself against the sheets. He could feel the heat of Max's erection as it lay fat and intimidating along the cleft of his ass.

"Don't make me," he whispered, trying to turn his head to look back at his black-haired lover.

Max slid fully on top of him, his heavy body smothering Ethan's just the way he wanted it to.

Max nibbled on Ethan's ear. "Don't make you what?"

Ethan moaned, his fingers flexing around Max's. "Beg."

"But I like the sound of your voice when you do," Max murmured, his own voice low and deep. "So beg me, Ethan. Beg me like the obedient bottom you are. Show me how much you want me."

Ethan trembled. "I want you. I can't get enough of what you do to me. The way you feel when you're on top of me . . . when you're in me --" His words trailed off into a groan as Max began to thrust against him, sliding the slick length of his sex back and forth between his buttocks. "Just like that," he gasped.

"Don't stop." Max dragged his teeth along the back of Ethan's shoulder. "You're doing very well, Ethan. Tell me more."

Ethan grabbed the sheets and arched his back, driving Max harder against him. "I love the way you smell. The way your skin tastes. The heat of your mouth . . ."

Max groaned against the back of Ethan' neck. "Tell me how it feels when I'm inside you. Tell me how it feels when I'm sliding into you, filling you with my cock." Max's voice was rough as it whispered against Ethan's ear. "Tell me how you feel when I fuck you in your ass."

"God." Ethan shuddered violently.

Max lightly bit his nape. "You like it when I fuck you?"

Ethan nodded desperately. He'd had had his share of lovers. He'd paid for college by working as a model and it had garnered him the kind of offers that were difficult for a single man to refuse.

But everything he'd had with those previous lovers was nothing compared to what he shared with Max. Maxmillian Poole was Ethan's dream come true. The sound of Maxmillian's voice -- just the sight of him -- was enough to make Ethan very, very glad that he had snagged the sexy man.

Especially now.

Maxmillian maneuvered his hips to fall between Ethan's legs. "Open for me," he whispered huskily.

Ethan eagerly obeyed, spreading his legs wide on the mattress. The head of Max's erection pressed against the pucker of his opening which was still loose from last night.

"I'm open," Ethan gasped. "I'm ready for you. Do anything you want to me. I'm begging you, Max."

"You've very persuasive." Max sounded amused. "How can I resist my green-eyed beauty . . .?"

The tube of gel was dug out from the sheets and liberally applied to Max's fingers. A single manicured digit gently circled the wrinkled flesh of Ethan's opening, teasing him. Ethan twisted like an overeager teenager beneath Max, trying to encourage his lover to hurry up.

Large hands held his hips, preventing him from moving. Ethan whined in frustration.

Maxmillian bit his earlobe in warning. "Patience, Ethan. I'll give you what you want. But you should know by now that we go at my pace, not yours."

Oh, yes, he knew that small but significant fact very well. It was part of the turn-on, actually. That didn't mean however, that Ethan couldn't fight the reins a little. "Hurry," he pleaded, the sheets sticking to his damp body.

Max's hands slid up to Ethan's wrists again, pinning them to the mattress beside his head. Ethan groaned in excitement at the added restraint.

"I know you like it when I hold you down," Max whispered.

Ethan fought not to climax. He trembled as Max slid his knees up, taking Ethan's with them. Ethan didn't have any leverage this way. He couldn't move except to hump the bed. It was perfect.

Handsome, strong Max had a cock that literally took Ethan's breath away. He gasped when Max pushed into him in one powerful surge. The swollen length tunneled into him unmercifully, laying seize, and it was only years of being able to accept Max's bulk that allowed Ethan to enjoy the taking without pain.

"God, Max!"

But as forceful as the entry had been, Maxmillian was content to torture Ethan with slow, easy lovemaking. Fingers flexed around Ethan's, reminding him of their grip. Max held him carefully under control as he pumped into him at an almost leisurely pace.

Ethan loved it. He hated it. He knew what Max was building up to.

"Not this time, Max." He gritted his teeth as his own cock rubbed in burning pleasure against the mattress. "Don't do this."

"Yes," was the husky reply.

"Max, no."

"I'm going to keep you like this for hours." Teeth dragged across the back of his neck. "Never letting you come down . . . Never letting you come. . . Always on the edge."

Ethan groaned at the words. It was the only downside to having a skilled lover. Sometimes, Max could be too damned good for Ethan's sanity.

"Please, don't," he panted.

But Maxmillian was as good as his word. After forty-five minutes, Ethan was drenched in sweat from the strain of being held on the cusp of orgasm for so long. Max's equally wet body slid against his skin, sending sparks of sensation across Ethan's nerves. Every push opened Ethan wider. Every stroke out was drawn deliberately over that nub of pleasure inside him.

Ethan rubbed his burning face against the pillow, clearing sweat from his eyes. "Max, enough, Max . . . please . . . I can't take anymore."

Max released one of Ethan's wrists so he could drag his manicured fingernails down Ethan's ribs. Max touched him softly, fingers barely drifting over skin.

"Not until I say so, Ethan. This isn't up to you. It's up to me. You shouldn't forget that or I may punish you."

Ethan couldn't use any more stimulation, but the words provided him with them, anyway. "Fuck . . . stop, Max." He groaned, fighting off orgasm. "Don't say another word."

Max's voice was deep and commanding. "Don't say what? Punish? Don't tell you that I'm thinking about pulling my cock out of you . . . that I'm thinking of bending you over the edge of the bed and spanking you? Don't tell you that?"

Ethan writhed, a moan caught in his throat. "No . . . you're so damn -- evil."

"Oh, but you like evil, don't you remember? I seem to recall that you admitted with much excitement that you like being held down --" Max's fingers encircled Ethan's wrists and squeezed, "-- and ravished by a dark, mysterious man. So tell me again. I want to hear you say it."

"M-Max --"

The fingers squeezed, mimicking the pressure of handcuffs. Ethan shuddered. "Speak the words aloud, Ethan. Tell me your fantasy."

Ethan groaned, giving up. "It's you . . . holding me down -- just like this." He strained against Max's grip, just to feel his lover tighten even further around him. "You overpower me."

Max licked the back of his neck. "Force you?"

"Yes." Admitting such made Ethan feel deliciously weak, as though he were handing himself over to Maxmillian, counting on him to be the strong one and not push it too far. "You can make me do anything you want. I'll do anything. Just please -- please let me come."

Max's voice was a warm burr against Ethan's ear. "I love you, Ethan. I'll give you anything you want."

Max slammed into him after that. He rode Ethan so hard the entire bed rocked.


Ethan smiled as Max cupped the back of his head and guided it beneath his chin. It amused and touched Ethan that of the two of them it was always cool, controlled Maxmillian who was first to initiate physical contact after sex.

Ethan stroked his fingers over his lover's dark, broad chest, his fingers tickling the few black hairs surrounding a caramel-colored nipple. "So you like my fantasy?"

"I assume your question is a rhetorical one."

Ethan smiled again. "I knew you would."

Strong, but elegant fingers curled around Ethan's bruised right wrist and gently squeezed. Ethan shivered, and his spent cock gave a weak twitch.

"Any opportunity to have your body is enjoyable," Max murmured against the top of his head. "Doubly so when it's mine to do with as I wish."

Ethan closed his eyes. "It is."

"I know."

Max's bedroom was equipped with surround sound and both men lay beneath the black satin sheets of their bed and listened to the swelling piano of Rachminoff.

"I neglected to mention that we've been invited to a meeting this afternoon."

Ethan stirred reluctantly, lulled by the warmth and masculine scent of his lover. "With who? I thought we were taking an extended lunch."

Lunch with Maxmillian was no lunch at all, but vigorous sex in their condominium. Since Max was adamant that their relationship at work be strictly professional, Ethan -- and he strongly suspected Max -- were usually eager for physical contact by lunchtime.

"Today we will pass," Max stated. He pulled his fingers slowly through Ethan's blonde hair. "The Society has offered us an interview to determine if we are eligible for membership."

Ethan lifted his head and looked down at Max. Dark blue eyes looked back impassively. "The Society? I've never heard of it. What is it, a cigar of the month club or something?"

Max's lush lips twitched. "Not quite. The Society is an ancient brotherhood founded in Europe in the nineteenth century. There are branches throughout the world, one of which is in Las Vegas. It is by all accounts a secret brotherhood made up of influential politicians and businessmen who meet for social reasons."

"And paddling?" Ethan teased. It sounded like his old fraternity.

"I'm sure they'll accommodate you since you'll doubtlessly deserve it at some point," Max said dryly. "Regardless, it is by invitation only and invitations are scarce." His eyes darkened briefly as he looked away. "I've been contacted because of my mother's side of the family. Apparently my great uncle was a member of the Society. That makes me a legacy."

Ethan studied the other man, well aware that Max was particularly sensitive when it came to his family. His family still lived in Europe, his mother and father constantly traveling from one social engagement to the next; his beloved Uncle Edgar on permanent vacation in the French Riviera. Contact with the Pooles was infrequent and limited to the occasional postcard or painfully formal five-minute phone call which invariably left Maxmillian distant and cold to Ethan for at least a day afterwards.

Family was important to Max because he didn't have one to speak of. Ethan understood his lover's need very well.

"Does your mother know about the Society?" Ethan asked, gently stroking the other man's shoulder.

Max nodded, taking a deep, quiet breath. "She does, as is she aware of the invitation. I received a call from her yesterday, in fact. She wished me luck."

Which now meant Max would do everything it took to be accepted into the Society to please his distant mother.

A thought occurred to Ethan. "Wait, you said 'we' were attending this meeting. They wouldn't have invited me. No one in my family has ever been part of a secret brotherhood, Max." Whereas Maxmillian's family was ultra wealthy, Ethan came from considerably humbler origins.

Maxmillian carefully slid out from beneath Ethan and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. With his back to Ethan, he said, "The man who called specifically mentioned your name. Perhaps --" he hesitated, "-- perhaps they are aware of your importance in the company. You're as close to a partner as exists."

"But I'm not a partner," Ethan pointed out. It wasn't a sore spot with him -- he had no problem being Max's employee -- but it struck him a little odd that he was being included in something that sounded exclusive.

"You're close enough. That appears to be all that matters to the Society."

"It sounds random, though," Ethan said.

Max turned his head, his blue eyes piercing Ethan. "Random or otherwise, you are coming with me."

Ethan gulped, startled by Max's determination. "I guess I am."


Ethan was filling out insurance forms on his latest client when someone knocked on his opened door. Maxmillian stood in the doorway, impatiently tugging his shirt cuffs.

"We should leave now. The meeting is twenty minutes from now."

Ethan looked down at the half-filled forms before him. His client, a local nightclub owner, had been accosted by an ex-employee the day before and Ethan had had to intervene. There'd been a minor scuffle which Ethan, with his extensive training in hand-to-hand, had swiftly suppressed. But in the process his client had been pushed to the ground and broken his wrist.

"I really need to get these finished and faxed, Max. Bernie's going on vacation today and I think he said he's leaving the office early. Go ahead without me. I honestly don't think they're interested in me. It's you they want."

"The invitation was for both of us. Give those to James. He'll finish them for you. We're going now, Ethan."

Ethan frowned, looking down at the unfinished forms. These couldn't wait unless Max wanted to deal with even more paperwork later. He was honestly surprised that Max was urging him to skip procedure. The agent in charge of the Elite Poole was a stickler for procedure. "These really need to be faxed, Max."


Ethan raised his eyes to the doorway in surprise. Max shifted, tense. Uncomfortable. He looked like a man who'd walked into the wrong room.

"If the Society truly wants your presence, it may hinder my application if you're not there," he said quietly. "Please, Ethan." It was as humble as Ethan had ever heard his proud lover. Max wanted this badly.

Ethan pushed his chair back. "Let me drop these off as we go."


The company Town car took them to the northwest side of town where development was pushing into the Spring Mountains and eating away at what Ethan considered the underappreciated aspect of Las Vegas: its natural scenery. The lights and glitter of the Strip served their purpose in helping the city be as wealthy and successful as it was, but the natives needed somewhere to escape to and the beautiful red rocks of the mountains ringing the northwest were one of those places.

As they pulled off the 215 and followed a newly paved road that seemed to disappear into the desert at the base of the mountains, Ethan chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd worry I was about to get shot. Where in the world is this place?"

Max tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. "Seclusion and privacy can be bought with money or with distance. The Society has apparently chosen distance."

"I guess if they use the name 'Society' it's obligatory to be mysterious, huh?" Ethan grinned.

Maxmillian gave him a level look. "I'm sorry to disappoint you but we won't be using secret handshakes. These are men who are perhaps the most powerful and influential in all of Las Vegas. They are experienced and skillful businessmen who do not brook nonsense. It behooves you to remember that while we are undergoing our interview, Ethan."

Stung, Ethan turned away to look out the side window. Max was treating him like a child and he wasn't particularly thrilled about it. "I'll remember," he said tersely.

"Ethan --"

He pulled away from Max's placating touch. "I'm fine. Let's just get this over with."

The two men remained silent until the car turned onto what would eventually be a main street lined with businesses. The plots were laid out, a strip mall clearly in the future, but for now the only structure with four walls was an orange-roofed self storage facility. Ethan held his tongue as the car pulled up to the gate of the place and their driver, Dominic, keyed in a code he read off of a business card Maxmillian had handed him at the beginning of the drive.

"Sure this isn't a mafia front?" Ethan couldn't help asking as the motorized gate slid sideways on its track and allowed them to drive into the courtyard formed by the storage units. "Laundry out the front door, liquor and cigarettes out the back?"

Maxmillian said nothing.

They stopped in front of a metal door with a small sign on it that read "Units G11-49". Max got out and Ethan followed him as he opened the metal door.

They were in a narrow hallway with a concrete floor. On either side of them were rows of metal sliding doors, each labeled with a letter and number. Thick padlocks hung from each.

"It's at the end," Maxmillian said needlessly. Ethan didn't think the Society held their meetings inside a storage locker.

The heels of their shoes clicked solidly on the polished concrete as they walked to the end of the row and turned right. A single door faced them. Maxmillian pressed the buzzer. There wasn't a handle on the door, only another keypad with a speaker. A surveillance camera blinked red above their heads. It reminded Ethan of the process required to enter the inner sanctum of a casino.

An inner alarm buzzed and the door clicked and released. Max pulled it open and entered, Ethan on his heels.

Mafia front, indeed. Ethan barely refrained from whistling as they entered a large room that rivaled the smoking rooms of any private club in the city. The walls were covered in a rich burgundy silk and held wood-framed portraits of Native Americans on a buffalo hunt. The floor was hardwood, stained deep ebony giving the room lush warmth to counteract the cool air conditioning. Eight chocolate leather club chairs were placed in a semi-circle around an oval wormwood cocktail table inlaid with tortoise shell. Subdued golden lighting placed discreetly in the corners cast enough light to illuminate, but not draw attention to the aromatic cigar smoke floating in clouds throughout the room.

Eight men sat in the chairs facing Ethan and Max. None of them looked over fifty and none were younger than Max. All were dressed in suits and most held snifters of an amber liquid.

"Maxmillian Poole," spoke up the man in the middle, a handsome man with thick pewter hair swept in a wave across his forehead. He was extremely tanned, his face creased with laugh and smile lines. Pale blue eyes gleamed beneath silver, caterpillar-like eyebrows. "We're pleased you've accepted our invitation for an interview. And you brought your companion, Mr. Winter. Excellent."

Ethan stood beside Max, doing his best not to appear self-conscious and uncomfortable. He was very aware of the lack of seating for him and Max. Was this an interview or an audition?

"Ethan and I are honored that you've extended this opportunity to us," Maxmillian replied smoothly. He didn't look at all ruffled that he'd been left standing before these strangers. "May I presume you to be Mr. Fairweather?"

The other man nodded, smiling. "You may indeed. These gentlemen beside me comprise the inner circle of the Society. It is we who decide who shall be admitted into our group of brothers. This time we have selected you, Mr. Poole. The Society has been watching you for quite some time and we've been extremely impressed by you. Such a young man but your impact upon this city is tremendous. You are to be applauded."

Ethan suppressed a smile and gave a quick sideways glance at his lover. Maxmillian's face was carefully blank but Ethan could read the pride in the older man's blue eyes. Ethan decided at that moment that he would do everything he could to make sure Maxmillian was admitted into this brotherhood. He deserved to be surrounded by men who appreciated all that he had accomplished.

"You flatter me," Max said simply. "But my credentials pale compared to those of the members of the Society. It is my hope that you will allow me to learn from you and fulfill my expectations for myself and this city."

"Very good," said Fairweather. He looked at Ethan, who unconsciously straightened. "And Mr. Winter. Will you be assisting Mr. Poole in fulfilling these expectations? The man behind throne, so to speak?"

Ethan wondered if the innuendo was intentional. He settled with a disarming smile. "Unless Maxmillian fires me, I hope to continue to help him, yes."

Fairweather raised his snifter to his lips but only inhaled from it. "You are discreet. That is a point in your favor."

Great, thought Ethan. So what do I win in this carnival?

Fairweather leaned forward and set his snifter on the cocktail table before settling back in his chair. He crossed his legs and smiled.

"Mr. Poole. Mr. Winter. It may relieve you to know that the Society has already conducted the requisite background and personal reference checks." He nodded at Ethan's frank surprise. "We have also concluded this interview."

This time it was Maxmillian who shifted in surprise.

Fairweather regarded them steadily. "All that remains of our decision on whether to accept you into our brotherhood . . ." he paused, drawing out the moment, "is our garment test."

Ethan wanted to stick his finger in his ear and clean it out. "Pardon me, but did you just say garment test?"

Fairweather chuckled. "Yes, I did. I know it sounds odd, but the Society often has mixers in which a certain uniform, if you will, is required. If you gentlemen conform to the image we require, then all will be well."

Ethan glanced at Maxmillian for reassurance. Max typically didn't perform for anyone, but this was a unique situation.

"What is the garment?" Maxmillian asked finally.

"I have it right here." Fairweather raised his hand. A door Ethan hadn't noticed to his right swung open and a man emerged carrying a black suit coat in one hand and a pair of dress shoes in the other.

The man stopped in front of Max. "Here you are, sir. I'll help you with the jacket."

Maxmillian hesitated for only a second. "Yes, thank you." He unbuttoned his own navy Prada suit and shrugged out of it, muscles bunching beneath the black shirt he wore beneath. As he passed the coat to Ethan to hold, Maxmillian glanced at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. It made Ethan relax to know his lover wasn't annoyed by what was going on.

With the other man's assistance, Max shrugged into the Society's black coat. It was a two button, and clearly expensive. Ethan admired Max in the coat. It was similar in look and style to what Max normally wore and was an uncanny fit. Ethan wondered if the Society knew their measurements.

The butler held out the shoes to Max. "Here you are, sir." Unlike with the coat, he didn't offer to help; he stepped off to the side.

"Mr. Winter," Fairweather said in an amiable voice, "would you be so kind as to assist Mr. Poole with the shoes? We'd like to get a good look at him standing upright."

Ethan blinked. Did he understand that request correctly? "You'd -- you'd like me to put his shoes on for him?" He hoped it was a joke.

Fairweather smiled. "Thank you for being so agreeable."

Ethan didn't know what to do. He wasn't keen on being Max's servant in front of these men, but what was his choice? He looked up at Max, but the other man's eyes were hooded, leaving the decision to Ethan. Great.

Sighing, Ethan came around until he was facing Max and took the shoes from him without meeting his eyes. He was too embarrassed for eye contact. He kneeled before Max and helped him out of his John Lobbs. The Society shoes didn't have a label but they were high quality and probably cost as much as his and Max's. Ethan felt his cheeks burn slightly as he slipped the shoes onto Max's feet and tied the laces.

As he was finishing the bow on the last shoe, Ethan dared a glance up, just to see how Max was taking this. Maxmillian wasn't watching him, though; he was looking over Ethan's head at Fairweather and the others. A look of speculation was on Maxmillian's face. Ethan wondered what he'd figured out.

"Done," Ethan breathed with relief. He carried Max's shoes with him as he stood and faced the members of the Society again.

"Do we meet with your approval?" Maxmillian asked quietly. His voice held the hint of an edge that the other men might not have noticed but Ethan picked up right away, increasing his confusion. "Did the performance satisfy?"

Ethan shot Max a startled look, but Fairweather chuckled.

"Yes, it did." Fairweather exchanged a look with his fellows before facing Max and Ethan again. "Congratulations Mr. Poole. Mr. Winter. Welcome to the Society."


Ethan kept his tongue until they were in the car. By that time he was ready to burst. He swiveled on the seat to face Max. "What in the world was that all about? What was with that garment test and making me put on your shoes?"

"You and I are in the Society," Max said in a low voice, staring at Ethan's mouth.

"Yeah, I know. I was there. I want to know why they had us -- you -- put on clothes as a final te --"

"We're in," Max said in a much rougher voice. He suddenly surged across the distance and crushed Ethan to the door beneath a hard, passionate kiss.

Ethan gasped in surprise which allowed Max to sink his tongue in the younger man's mouth. Once Max filled his mouth, Ethan stopped resisting. He closed his eyes while dragging Max tighter against him. One of Max's hands slipped between his legs and quickly massaged him to hardness. Ethan moaned against Max's mouth and pulled one of his legs from under Max so he could wrap it around the older man.

Ethan threw his head back against the window, shuddering as Max sucked on his neck. "Is this my . . . my reward for getting us in?"

"It's the least I can do," Max murmured against his throat, "to show my gratitude."

Ethan ran his hands over Max's back, wishing they were naked and he could feel the other man's muscles. "You're very grateful," he moaned as Max swiftly opened both of their pants and pulled out their cocks.

"So grateful I'm going to fuck you against the door, Ethan."

Ethan gasped and arched up against Max when his cock was taken in a firm, warm hand. "In the . . . car?"

"Fucked," Max confirmed huskily. "Hard and thoroughly. Maybe twice if we have time."

"Twice," Ethan groaned, clawing at Max's back. "Lube . . . in my pocket."

"Already have it," Max panted back. He looked down as he slicked his fingers and his cock. Then he raised his eyes to Ethan's flushed face as he pushed two fingers into him.

The burn of the sudden entry only made Ethan harder. He bit his lip, arching his back as Max stretched him with an urgency that demanded he relax or risk serious pain. Ethan tried . . . mostly.

"Going to fuck you for what you did." Max's deep voice made Ethan clench around the thrusting fingers. "Going to make you come all over yourself."

Ethan groaned, desperate. "If you don't hurry up, it'll happen sooner than you think. Just fuck me already, Max!"

"Love you," Max gasped the moment before he aligned himself with Ethan's entrance and pushed inside him.


Ethan didn't care if the driver heard him. He bit at Max's jaw as the other man opened him with long, deep thrusts. He moaned when Maxmillian unerringly found that place inside him that made him see stars.

Read the rest of this story in "Tied Up in Lies"

back to story index