Date: Tue, 21 Nov 2006 10:42:05 -0800 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 31 Usual disclaimers apply, this is all fiction. No implications are made about the celebrities mentioned. This is intended for adults, so if you're not allowed to read this, don't do it. Author's Note: head on over to the Gyllenhaal Chronicles site for the latest on this story and the other Jake stories on Nifty. It's a great place and I'm really grateful for all the people I've met there. Sign up at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew. A special thanks to everyone who's written to me from the very beginning. I know that the story's taken a lot of twists and turns, good and bad, but thank you so so much for sticking with me through it all. As always, e-mail can be sent to christopherrluu@gmail.com or on MSN messenger with that same e-mail address. I'm on all the time, don't be afraid to drop me a quick message. Part XXXI "Boys, come on inside," Chris yelled from the porch. Atticus looked at him, yawning as Boo sauntered up to his feet, wide eyes anxious for any new stimulation, "Did Jake let you guys out again?" he asked, half-expecting an answer. Boo simply wagged his tail, loyal gaze unwavering. "Atticus, in," Jake said firmly. Chris watched as Atticus' ears perked up and he leapt towards the porch and sat, attention rapt as he ignored Chris completely. "You just have to be stern," Jake said, patting Chris' shoulder, "Boo though, that little guy can't get enough of you." Chris picked him up, running his hands over Boo's wrinkly neck, "They were your idea," he said, nuzzling his nose into Boo's fur, "let's get you inside before it gets dark." "Hey, they're supposed to keep us calm and..." "They do," Chris interrupted, "and I love them. Love them...love you." He leaned up and gave Jake a kiss, pressing their foreheads together as his eyes fluttered shut. Atticus barked, pawing at the front door. Jake reached behind him, door flying open as he turned the knob, both dogs trotting inside as Jake's hand slid down Chris' back. Chris groaned, the hum resonating through both their bodies as Jake pushed him against the frame of the door. The dogs were calming, both of them could agree on that, but what Chris liked most about them was that they kept him and Jake at home more. Sure, the thought of flying to New York to visit Maggie seemed fun, but they couldn't just leave the dogs. Jake hadn't taken a new project yet, Chris knew it wasn't because of the dogs, but it was easy to lay the pressure on them and not have that weight resting on his shoulders. "Let's forget about the entire thing. Let them eat pizza," Jake said, lips still rubbing against Chris', "they don't expect Martha Stewart to be making them dinner. They shouldn't, anyway." "Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday," Chris whispered, hands running over Jake's chest, "I tell you that every year." "I know, I know," Jake said, smiling. He pulled Chris tight against his body again, "can't wait to see the baby again. It's been too long." "A couple months at least, right?" Chris asked, forehead furrowing as he thought. He couldn't remember how long he'd been back. He did, on the other hand, remember that yesterday was his third day without having to go to the pharmacist first thing in the morning. Today was the fourth, tomorrow would be the fifth; he couldn't wait until he lost count. No more shakes, no more chills or hot flashes, it was almost like he was back to normal. "Wonder if he'll remember us," Jake said, holding Chris tight. "I have to clean up. We have to clean up," Chris said, "your stuff is all over the guestroom. We should really pack some of it up." Jake's hand was running lower, distracting him. He couldn't think straight, not with Jake's fingers dipping into the crack of his ass. Jake grunted in agreement, Chris grabbing his wrist behind him, "We're stopping?" "Can't keep going with an audience," Chris whispered, grinning, "how's it going Mrs. Larabie?" Chris waved, the older woman waving back as she jogged slowly down the street, white poodle in tow on a bright pink leash. Atticus immediately started barking from the inside of the house, the deep barks sound the entire cul-de-sac. The poodle seemed unfazed and Chris figured it happened every day. "Ready for the big day?" Jake asked, "we've got plenty of potatoes if you run low." Chris poked his side, watched him hold in a laugh, "Have a good run, we should introduce our dogs." He turned to Jake, evening sky ablaze in reds and oranges behind him. Mrs. Larabie smiled nervously, speeding up her gait. "She's going to be taking a different route now, I guess," Jake said, pulling Chris back up against him. "We should probably get inside, too." "Nothing left to see," Chris said, grabbing the mail before pulling Jake back inside, the sky darkened by a veil of purple. Atticus and Boo ran to them as soon as they shut the door, Boo excitedly jumping up on their legs as Atticus watched, head cocked to one side. "Hungry, big guy?" "I'll feed them," Jake said, heading towards the kitchen, "toss that mail and I'll feed us, too." "Just bills," Chris said, holding them out. Jake grabbed them over his shoulder, tossing them onto the counter as Chris leaned against the sink, watching the dogs run around Jake's feet excitedly as he scooped out food. Chris leaned down, grabbing Boo's wriggling body, his paws pushing at his chest, "when everyone's here, these guys are going to go crazy." "No kidding," Jake said, setting the bowls down on the floor. Boo jumped from Chris' arms and Jake reached behind him for the bills, "you pay every month for this storage unit, right?" He was holding up a white envelope, the storage unit's logo emblazoned in the corner. "Right," Chris said, watching the dogs crunch through their food, relatively still for the time being as their mouths moved as fast as their bodies were earlier, "but that stuff, I can't even remember what's in there. Old stuff, from before college probably," Chris said, shuddering as Jake ran his nose along the back of his neck, hands fluttering down Chris' sides. "If we clean it up, we could stick some of my shit in there," Jake said, voice muffled as his lips rubbed against Chris' neck, "I'm sure we can find room in there for my surfboard and some of your books," he paused, fingers coming up under Chris' t-shirt, "just have to move some stuff around," he said, pushing Chris' t-shirt up higher, cool air and Jake's feather-light touch raising goose bumps all over his smooth skin. Chris shivered and leaned back against Jake's chest, turning his head around to meet Jake's lips, tongue instantly sliding against Jake's, his hand resting on top of Jake's as it ran circles on his own chest. Chris let out a low groan, turning around and resting his hands on Jake's shoulders, tiling his head as Jake's tongue probed deeper, fingers on Chris' back. Slowly, Jake pushed Chris back against the counter, hoisting him up, pulling his t-shirt over his head. "Here?" Chris asked, cocking an eyebrow. His fingers were on his pants before Jake could even answer. "Let me get the boys out of here," Jake said, voice breathy already, face flushed. Chris slid his pants off and watched as Jake opened the back door, the dogs running out instantly, their food bowls licked clean, "We've done it here before," he said, pulling his shirt off, "plenty of times." Chris ran his hands over Jake's chest, lips working his neck as Jake wrapped his legs around his waist, "You like it by the window, don't you?" Chris chuckled, feeling Jake pull their chests together. Jake practically growled, eyes fiery, "Like it anywhere, anytime." He kissed down Chris' chest, tongue flicking across a nipple as his hand dipped into Chris' underwear, a shiver shooting up Chris' entire body. Chris hissed, grabbing Jake's head, fingers tangling in his thick brown hair as Jake moved lower, tongue swirling around the head of his dick. Jake pulled off Chris' underwear, tossing it aside as he took as much of Chris' cock in as he could, feeling Chris stiffen above him, shuddering as his throat squeezed Chris' shaft. He closed his eyes, sliding Chris' dick in and out of his mouth, pulling on his balls lightly as he sucked hard, moans and grunts filling the kitchen as Chris tensed on the kitchen counter, cool granite on his bare ass contrasted by Jake's hot mouth on his cock. "God, Jake," Chris grunted, neck straining as he threw his head back, toes curling as he shuddered. Jake let up on his cock, feeling is pulse as it left his lips, swollen and pink, glossy with spit. Jake stroked him, hand firm and steady as he watched Chris, breaths quickening and body flushed. "Close?" Jake whispered, slick fingers still sliding up and down Chris' dick. Chris could only nod, breathing labored and body tensing, "Good," was Jake's only response, a finger sliding, slick and fast, into Chris' hole. He watched, eyes rapt, as Chris' entire body went rigid, his jaw slack as his eyes slammed shut. Jake took his dick in again, another finger poking at Chris' ass. Seeing him, just seeing Chris go crazy made Jake's dick hard, pearls of pre-cum sliding down his shaft. He could feel Chris holding on, trying as hard as he could to hold it in, but he knew exactly what to do. Jake's fingers were sure and confident, sliding in and poking at Chris' prostate, fingertip swirling around, gasps and shudders falling from Chris' lips. Jake knew what to do to draw it out, too, sliding off Chris' dick to flick the tip with his tongue, lapping at Chris' tight sac, making sure to bring Chris as close as he could before backing off. It drove Chris crazy, he knew it did, but he did it every time because he knew Chris loved it, too. "Fuck, Jake...let me cum or get the fuck in me," Chris gasped, "fuck." Jake slid another finger in, stretching Chris' hole and erasing every though in his head at the same time. Jake grinned, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he concentrated, Chris' hole squeezing his fingers, toes curled and mouth dry. He could do both, he was sure, crooking his finger and sending another one of Chris' groans out into the kitchen. "Fuck, fuck fuck," Chris was incoherent, his cock pulsing as he squeezed his chute tight, trapping Jake's fingers inside, Jake sliding Chris' cock into his throat one more time. He felt Chris' hands grab his head, fingers tight on his scalp as he let out one last long groan, deep and low, cum spraying from his dick right down Jake's throat. Chris' body shook, his muscles tensing and relaxing, breathing stunted and body flushed. He felt his entire body shudder, waves washing over him, every ripple coming from his dick and Jake's squeezing throat. Jake sat back and watched as Chris came down, breathing slowing down and his eyes fluttering open to look at Jake, half-lidded. Jake whispered, "Get out on the couch." Chris stumbled down onto the floor, legs shaky as he helped Jake up, pulling their lips together. "You're amazing," Chris said, lips sliding against Jake's, "you get me so fucking hot." He reached down, stroking Jake's dick, already slick with pre-cum. "Can't get to the couch," he said, "have to have you right here." Shuddering, Jake pulled Chris in for another kiss, hands roaming down Chris' sweaty back, feeling taut muscle under his slick fingers. Jake pushed him forward and Chris felt cool granite against his back. The island was clear for the most part, and he was grateful when Jake turned him around, lips on the back of his neck. Chris shuddered, a chill creeping up his spine when Jake slid his fingers in again, "Jesus," Jake gasped, "you should see yourself." "Get that dick in me," Chris whispered, urging Jake forward, "come on." He rolled his fingers into fists, the cool granite sliding against the skin of his arms, his body hot and cold at the same time. He could hear Jake shuffling behind him for a little, and then hands sliding down his back, tongue following his fingers, lips nipping at soft skin. His finger was still sliding in and out, feeling Chris' hole quivering. "Ready?" Jake asked, his free hand running circles on Chris' ass. Chris nodded and felt Jake steady himself, gasping when he felt something cold and hot at his hole. "Jesus, Jake, what the fuck?" He yelled, body shivering and breaths stalling. He felt fireworks in his head, his entire body tingling. Jake didn't say a word, just got back down onto his knees, licking up the rivulets of water coming from Chris hole. The ice cube had slid right in, Chris' relaxed hole showing no resistance at all. He was tight now though, his entire body seizing at the sudden chill. Jake's tongue was right there after, warm and fleshy on Chris' hole, warmth and frigid cold coursing through every fiber of Chris' body. Jake's tongue snaked in deeper, his finger circling Chris' prostate, tongue jabbing in and out of Chris' ring of muscle. "Jake, oh God," Chris groaned, "fuck." He rested his forehead on the counter, waiting for Jake's next move, reveling in the sensations in his body, in what Jake's tongue did, sliding deep, the ice cube melting as Jake lapped up the cool water. "Fuck...Jake, just get your dick in me." Another ice cube and Chris stiffened again, Jake could feel his entire body shudder, his hands running Chris' legs, his tongue alternating between deep thrusts and quick circles around Chris' hole. He didn't have to feel it to know Chris' dick was hard. Chris was incoherent, head spinning as he just steadied himself against the onslaught of feeling- -hot, cold, loose, tight, everything between. He felt Jake give one last lick, tongue going up his crack and up his back, cold water and hot tongue mixing into a unbearable overload. Jake leaned forward, his own sweaty chest resting on Chris' back, his hand sliding back down Chris side to grab the base of his dick. "Going to make you cum good and hard," Jake whispered, voice gruff and dry, into Chris' ear, feeling him shiver under him. He slid the head of his dick in, his own body almost buckling in half at the sensation, his dick finally surrounded by the tight cold-hot warmth of Chris' hole. It was amazing, like nothing Jake had felt before. The cold quickly disappeared, however, his dick sliding all the way in, Chris' mouth open in a silent groan, back tense as he relaxed his hole, Jake's thick cock stretching him open. His body slowly registered everything, the cool granite on his chest, Jake's hot back on his own, big thick cock sliding deep into him again and again, Jake's lips on his ear, nipping and licking the sensitive skin. He thrust hard and steady, every movement sliding across Chris' prostate, his own dick sheathed in clutching muscle, their bodies moving together. "Shit," Chris groaned, teeth pulling the skin of his own wrist. It burned, burned deep inside him as Jake slammed in, hand gripping his hip as the other ran soothing passes over his back, "Fuck, Jake. I'm going to shoot," he said, voice strained and tight. He squeezed his ass hard, pulling a low growl from Jake's lips, before he leaned down, sweaty chest slick against Chris' back as his lips bit his neck, sparks flying down Chris' back, thrusts not losing any of their speed or force. Jake felt his breathing get faster, felt Chris' entire body get tight and hot and then he felt Chris' ass squeeze his dick even tighter than before, muscles spasming under Jake's thrusting body. Jake's eyes shut tight as he shot, orgasm spooling out into Chris' tight chute, hands grabbing the granite for support, the cold sending a shock up his arms. "Jesus," he groaned, resting his forehead against the back of Chris' head, matting the sweaty hairs on his own forehead, "fucking amazing." He let out a long sigh, thrusting his dick in deep one more time, sending a quiet whimper from Chris' throat. He ran his hands down Chris arms, grabbing Chris' wrists tight as he kissed the back of his neck, pink and red from the bites and sucking. He let his breath get back to normal, feeling Chris relax under him, still reveling in the sensations, body quivering every few minutes. He turned his head around, shocked by how blue Jake's eyes looked through his lusty haze, how everything seemed over-stimulating as he came down. "Stay like that," Chris whispered, "just a little more." Jake nodded, kissing Chris' ear, holding him tight. It felt so good, felt so right that Jake didn't even want to think about moving. *** Chris coughed, hand covering his mouth as Jake lifted the door to the storage unit, huge billows of dust flying from every flat surface. "Jesus," Jake said, covering his face too, "when was the last time you were here?" He waved his hands around, trying to get the dust away from the both of them. "When my grandparents died," Chris said, taking a step back, "it's mostly their stuff; my parent's stuff." "You just leave it here?" Jake asked, stepping into the unit, lifting his baseball cap and running his fingers through his hair. He looked overwhelmed, Chris noticed. "Have you ever gone through it?" "I put it away," Chris said, "I labeled the boxes and stuff. I just sort of forgot about it, I guess." Jake opened a box, pulled out an old photo album, "Wow," he said, voice quiet, "I don't think I've ever even seen what you parents looked like." "That's them," Chris said, looking over Jake's shoulder as he ventured deeper, "are we moving stuff around? Are we throwing stuff away? What are we doing?" "Whatever you want," Jake said, eyes still focused on the album, "I want to take these home for sure." He slammed it shut, more dust filling the air, "but we've got to at least move some stuff around." Chris opened another box, full of old National Geographic magazines, "We can throw this away," he said before opening another box, finding even more old magazines, "we can throw this all out." "What about this?" Jake said, pulling a pocket watch out from another box. He held it up, watched it swing around before opening it up. "It's dead," he said, rubbing the face with his fingers, trying to get some of the tarnish off the casing. "It was my dad's," Chris whispered, "and my grandpa's, too, I think." He looked at it closely, a gothic L engraved on the inside of the cover, the entire thing flecked with black tarnish, from the case to the very end of the chain. "We should get this cleaned up." Jake nodded, slipping it into his pocket and looking through the rest of the things in the box, "I always forget that you didn't have what the rest of us had," Jake said, "you seem to just fit right into mine." "It's because your family's great, every single person," Chris said, finding another box of magazines, another box of old books, "I'm lucky." "We're lucky," Jake said, wrapping his arms around Chris' waist, "just have to figure out what to do with all of this." "Just move it around," Chris said, untangling himself from Jake's arms, "there's too much stuff to go through today." "I want to," Jake said quietly, "it's like seeing you in here...like seeing where you came from." Chris watched him, intently rifling through another box, eyes scanning everything he picked up, hands moving fast. It was stuff he wanted to forget, but Jake didn't even know about it, never pressed after the first big fight. What he knew about Chris' parents, his grandparents, his past, everything he knew was what Chris chose to tell him--which he always assumed wasn't much at all. But here he was, given almost free reign to discover whatever he could; what now, over two years later, was still foreign to him. "It's old stuff, Jake. Most of it's not even mine," Chris said, sitting down in a chair, a puff of musty air and dust surrounding him. He recalled it being in his parent's room, the same rocking chair his mom would read to him in. The chair he'd fall asleep in, only to find himself awake in his own bed the next morning. His breath stalled just thinking about it. "It's not yours," Jake said, opening another box, "but it's still a part of you. It's all you in here." "Come on, let's just get your stuff in here," Chris said. "No," Jake said quietly, ignoring Chris' incessant hesitation, "let me see. I want to know." He walked deeper into the unit, opening lids and reading labels, everything fascinating, from the old lamp sitting in the corner to the magazines Chris wanted to throw out. National Geographic? That meant something. Chris' dad or grandpa or mom or grandma read those magazines. These boxes were packed and put away because someone thought they were worth something; Chris might completely remove himself from his past, but Jake wanted to just dive into it, drown in it, surround himself with it. "There's a lot of stuff here," he said, "and I want to look at everything." "We don't have time," Chris said, shutting the box that Jake had just opened, "I don't want to keep reminding myself that I don't have them anymore. Especially around Thanksgiving." "Hey," Jake said, "you've got family. And Thanksgiving is about being thankful, so I'm grateful that I've got all of this around me," he said, arms out, "all of this to tell me the things that you don't." "We've been through this," Jake said, grabbing Chris' hands, "let me in. I've earned it, haven't I?" He pulled Chris' hands to his shoulders and slid his own down Chris' toned arms, resting his right hand right on Chris' beating heart, "I've asked you so many times: just let me in here." "It's not that easy," Chris said, stepping back, "it's been a really long time. I want to just forget about it. If I've got you, I don't want to think about what I don't have, what I didn't have. Why should I?" "Because they matter," Jake said, laughing nervously, "I'm serious. I can't believe you just want to forget about all this, this is you and you're part of us. This is part of me now, too." "You're crazy," Chris said. "Crazy about you. I want all this, the good and the bad. I want to know everything about you whether it makes me cry or laugh, I don't care, I just want to know more. There's so much more, I know it." Chris stared up into the blue, Jake's eyes pleading for understanding, searching his own for some sort of sign, some reassurance. "What do you want to know?" he asked, his voice quiet and measured as he stood up straighter, hands holding Jake's shoulders tight. "What do you remember?" Jake asked, eyes wide, excited. "Everything," Chris said, "you know how I am." "What's the first thing you can remember," Jake asked, a smile on his face, heart racing. Even if Chris just let out a little today, this meant that there'd be more and Jake would be ready, every single time. "My mom's eyes were brown," Chris started, smiling slightly, biting his lip as his eyes focused on Jake's, "big and warm." "Like yours," Jake whispered, "they sound just like yours." *** The lightning storms would start in the front of his head, move quickly to the back, ending in thunder at the back of his neck, his entire body shaking or rigid, sometimes both. He hated them, they way they seemed to last forever, the way they interrupted quiet, hazy morning. But they happened. And every time, the only thing that got him through it was the feeling of Jake against him, warm skin and tight body; his own hands clutched at Jake, his shoulders, his hand, anywhere, for the strength, for a reason to get through the pain. "Are you okay?" Jake whispered, running a soothing hand down his back. Chris only nodded franticly, hand clutching at Jake's shoulder, body tensing and relaxing rapidly, toes curling as one of his legs sought refuge between Jake's, his body trying to find comfort in familiarity. Jake shushed him, held him tight, his own mind racing through everything that Dr. Riley had told him. These things happened, he remembered, chemical imbalances and things like that, they'd happen until Chris' body could get itself together again. They didn't happen very often, but when they did, it scared him, scared him more than anything. "Come on, Chris," Jake said softly, "I'm right here." "It hurts," Chris whispered, pressing his head into Jake's shoulder as his voice strained, "just hold on. One second." Chris used to go into his head because he was safe there. It was the one place he could control everything. Nobody died unless he wanted them to. Nobody did anything if he didn't want them to. The real world wasn't as accommodating. But now he couldn't even go there. He didn't have complete control anymore and it scared him. Jake felt guilty, because part of him was glad he'd finally managed to get Chris to let things out. The pain forced him out of his safe place, forced him to talk about what was going on in his head. It made him open up and Jake jumped in at every chance. He'd learned more, seen more of Chris' thoughts and emotions that he ever had before, "You okay?" Jake whispered, pulling Chris away and bringing their faces together, Jake's lips running over his forehead. "Jesus," Chris groaned, wiping the tears that fell from his eyes, "I hate this shit." He shook his head and got up out of bed, stomping to the bathroom and shutting the door. Jake stared at the ceiling, listening as Chris ran the sink, his hands running over his face. Jake slid across the bed, bending down to scratch Atticus' head, nudging Boo lightly with his foot, "Come on boys, let's get you guys out," he said groggily. Outside, the cool morning air shocked his skin, sending goose bumps to the surface, the sunlight making him squint as he watched the dogs lazily paw around the back yard. Maggie and Peter were still asleep, he was sure; Aaron had started sleeping through the night and the two of them couldn't be happier. Jake could hear the coffeemaker start itself, wondered what time they'd set it for. The dogs regrouped, both sitting down in front of him, ears perked. It felt ludicrous to compare the two of them to children, especially with Aaron around, but Jake couldn't feel a sort of paternal pride. He and Chris had gone to every obedience class, made sure their two pups were the best at everything and it showed. They were loyal, they followed their commands, and more than anything else, Jake knew Chris liked having them around. He heard someone inside, the sound breaking the mood of the silent morning; head snapping around, he saw Chris pull a coffee mug out of the cabinet, same one he always used, Stanford logo in crimson, emblazoned on white. He'd seen Chris drink out of it the first morning he woke up in Chris' old house, it was the first thing Chris looked for the morning he woke up in the new house. "You alright?" Jake asked, hand running over Chris' shoulders. "I'm fine," Chris said, pulling Jake's hand off of him, "just hate it. Hate when I can't even control my own fucking head." He set his mug down, waiting impatiently for the coffee to drip. "Hey," Jake said, forehead wrinkling as he turned Chris to face him, "don't talk to me like that. I know you don't like feeling like that." "Sorry," Chris said, reaching for the coffee pot, a few stray drops singeing on the hotplate as he pulled it out, "just don't like it." He spilled some milk in and Jake watched as he went out to the studio, Boo trotting behind him in the dew-wet grass. Jake let out a long sigh, watching through the kitchen window as Chris opened up his computer and started typing, tossing Boo a biscuit from a box he kept on his desk. This is how it usually went, Chris would be pissed off and then come back into the house, calmed down, ready to talk. It was jarring at first, Jake could never get used to seeing Chris hurt, seeing him so standoffish, but the first time he came around, came in ready to say that his head hurt and that he hated being vulnerable and having Jake see him like that, Jake melted. He never thought that there'd be an upside to all to all of the heartache and the pain, but he owed it all to Dr. Riley. Jake had tried everything to get Chris to open up, but it was the doctor that did it. "You're up early," Maggie said, stepping into the kitchen, "flipping your bird over?" "Shit," Jake said, suddenly remembering the turkey he'd been brining all week, "forgot all about it." Every Thanksgiving was a chance to cook, to get everyone together, and Jake was sure that it was that part of it, the family part, that made Chris love the holiday so much. "Where's Christopher?" she asked, opening a cabinet and rummaging for a mug, "you guys still don't have matching stuff." "It's no big deal," Jake said, reaching into the refrigerator, "we've never had matching stuff." "What's he doing out there?" Maggie asked as she warmed her hands on her coffee, "he really gets up and goes right to the computer?" "No, he never does," Jake said, jostling the huge turkey around in its salty brine, "he just got woken up by a migraine or something." Maggie only nodded, "Thanksgiving's a big deal this year. Lots of changes; it'll be one for the books." "I don't know if I should be worried about him or if this means he's back to normal," Jake said, leaning back against the island, staring out at Chris with his sister, "I'm guessing it'll take a lot more time to figure out." "And I'm guessing you're right," Maggie said, leaning against Jake, "he's worth it, though." "Peter's still asleep?" Jake asked, more to keep up the conversation than anything else. Chris sat, eyes fixed on his computer screen, oblivious as Jake and Maggie watched him through the window. The morning was bright and golden, air fresh with the smell of dew and salt. It was perfect, Jake thought, crisp and clean, alive. On cue, Peter walked right past them, nodding as he passed, "Baby's still asleep," he said, not stopping on his way out to the studio. Maggie and Jake watched as he shuffled across the damp grass, arms across his chest as he got to the door. "Hey," Peter said, watching Chris' eyes snap to his. He leaned down over Chris' desk, craning his neck to see that Chris was writing, black words on the stark white page. "Nice," he said, nodding slowly. He slid his hands up the sides of Chris' laptop and slammed it shut, "What are you doing? We're supposed to be relaxing. All of us." Chris' eyes narrowed, but they relaxed as soon as they saw Peter's raised eyebrow, his relaxed face, "I just had some stuff shooting through my head earlier," Chris said, "I have to get it out." "Yeah?" Peter asked, sitting down on the desk next to Chris' laptop, "you can talk it out. If not to Jake, you can tell me, anyone." "No, I can't," Chris said, "nobody wants to hear it." "We all do," Peter said, hand firmly grabbing his shoulder, "believe me." "I don't want to be complaining every time I get a headache. I'm not going to make you guys listen to it. I don't even want to hear it." "You don't?" "I want to forget about it," Chris said, "shit...they're watching, aren't they?" He glanced across the lawn, Jake and Maggie's eyes focused on the two of them. His eyes shot back down to his computer, closed on his desk, his shaking hands running over its smooth surface. "It's like...I don't even know. Sometimes it's like Jake is just waiting to pick up the pieces." "It's not like that," Peter said calmly, "you know that. He's just worried about you right now. He'll be worried about you for a while." "I don't want him to worry about me," Chris said softly. "Then talk to him. He won't worry if he knows you're okay." Chris shook his head slowly, "Why do I have to hurt myself to help the 'us.'" "It's how it goes, Christopher," Peter said, squeezing his shoulder firmly, "but it's Thanksgiving. No hurting." *** "Don't go," Chris mumbled, holding Jake's body tight. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Jake's neck, running his hand over Jake's chest, reveling in the warmth and the contact, "What time is it?" Jake glanced at his clock, eyes still blurry as he yawned, pulling Chris to his body instinctually, "It's not early," he said, kissing Chris' forehead, "can't do this today, we have to get ready." Chris ignored him, wrapping his legs around one of Jake's, "You have lots of time," Chris whispered, "just stay with me until the sun comes up." "It's already out," Jake said, laughing softly, fingers running through Chris' hair, down his back. "I know," Chris said, lips running over Jake's neck, "it just sounded pretty; like a poem or something." His voice trailed off, Jake pressing their bodies together as Chris sighed, a content groan forming deep in his throat. "I have to get up," Jake said, starting to pull away, reluctance obvious to the both of them, "you want to eat tonight, don't you?" Chris didn't say anything, just tried to prolong the moment. Jake managed to pull away though, stumbling towards the bathroom, morning clumsiness making it harder to get there. He turned around, leaning against the doorframe to watch Chris gather the sheets around himself and drift back to sleep, expression content and quiet. It was one escape he didn't mind. Chris could go into his dreams whenever he wanted, because no matter how scary it got, and Jake knew it did get scary, all Chris had to do was wake up and he'd be right there in Jake's arms, safe and sound. Eyes fluttering open at the sound of the bathroom door opening, Chris saw Jake emerge from the steam, bright yellow LiveStrong bracelet the only thing on his body other than the dewy drops of water from the shower. His hair was messily towel-dried, muscles moving smoothly under skin as he sidled across the room to the closet, Chris' eyes watching every move of Jake's strong body. Transfixed, he watched Jake slip on underwear, stretching his arms above his head as soon as he slid on a pair of gym shorts. His fingers pushed his hair back one last time before he glanced at the bed, eyes locking with Chris' as he held a t-shirt in his hands, fabric dangling loosely as they stared at each other, breaths even and quiet. "Is that my t-shirt?" Chris asked quietly, pulling the covers off of himself. Jake ignored him, tossing the shirt onto the bed as he crawled on it after, licking his lips, "Come here," Jake said, voice raspy as he pulled Chris' head to his own, their lips slamming together as Jake's fingers tangled in Chris' bed-messy hair. Chris groaned, eyes shutting as Jake's tongue slipped into his mouth, "can't get enough of you," Jake groaned. Chris ran his hand down Jake's flexed arm, hard muscle under his fleeting touch. Jake pushed him down, straddling his legs as he kissed him deeper, rough stubble on Chris' soft skin, their bodies melting together the way they always did. "Jesus," Jake whispered, "can't right now." He pulled away, pressing their foreheads together, "Want to so bad," he said, raising himself up onto his knees, "but you've got to get up too, take the dogs out for me." "Alright, alright," Chris groaned, eyes turning to the ceiling as he tried to ignore his erection, "go cook. I better be so full I can't move tonight." "You'll be doing plenty of moving tonight," Jake whispered as he leaned down again, tongue tracing Chris' ear, "so don't think you're getting out of it." Chris slipped his sunglasses on, the dogs pulling on their leashes as the sniffed around, Peter at his side. It was just starting to get cool, the late morning sun shining bright through the blue sky. It hit Chris right as they turned the corner that Peter had been spending a lot of time with him, covert babysitting, he figured. The dogs pawed through the grass, noses catching every subtle scent on the salty breeze, "I love you, Peter, I really do." "Love you like I love Jake, I'm not going to lie," Peter said, throwing an arm around Chris' shoulders. "So why are you watching me like I'm going to run away?" Chris asked, "I'm not going to. Everyone I've got is here." "I'm not doing anything like that," Peter said, "just trying to figure you out." Chris chuckled, "Good luck. I'm still trying to figure that out." "I think you've got it pretty much down," Peter said, "don't sell yourself short. You're not a kid anymore." "I know I'm not a kid, but apart from that, it's still pretty fuzzy." "Oscar-winning, literary trophy holding Christopher Lewis, that's who you are; and you're more than that too. I'm pretty sure you're a writer. Good one at that. You're good to Jake, good to us. You make kids read," Peter said, throwing his hands up in the air, "you've got to see all that." Chris stood still, his own insecurities seemed magnified only to himself. He was sure he didn't exude confidence of any kind, maybe before, but definitely not now. If Peter saw any, if anyone saw any, it was only because they knew him. "Do you know where we are?" Peter asked, looking around. Eyes darting down the street, Chris nodded, "We're not far." The dogs stood at attention, ears and eyes pointed to Chris and Peter, waiting for the very next step. He shook his head, shaking away the stray thoughts, "I think maybe it's time." "Time for what?" "I need to get out of this funk," Chris said, looking down and patting Boo on the head, "I've got a lot to be thankful for. It just took this whole Thanksgiving thing to get me to see it." A smile spread over Peter's face and he grabbed a leash from Chris' hand, Atticus tugging on it as he led the way home, "That food better be ready," Peter said, hand patting his grumbling stomach, "self-realization always makes me hungry." "Smartass," Chris said, grinning. He leaned up, kissing Peter's cheek lightly, "Thanks...for everything, not just this. You always do just the right thing." *** Peter slammed Chris down on the bed, lips hungry on Chris' as his hands reached down, sliding up under Chris' sweater. He felt Chris groan, a low rumble in his throat echoing right into his ears, shaking him all the way down his spine as he pulled up Chris' shirt, throwing it to the floor. "Gorgeous," Peter whispered, eyes traveling down Chris' tight body, flushed skin and shallow breaths searing into his memory. "Love you," Chris groaned, hands running over Peter's jaw, the usually calm eyes fiery and dark, hand sliding down to Peter's chest. He watched Peter pull his shirt off, hairy chest and square shoulders meeting his eyes, another low groan falling from his lips as he ran his fingers across Peter's skin, "I love you so much." "I'll take good care of you," Peter whispered, "want you...just want to make you feel good." Chris' eyes rolled back into his head as Peter licked at his neck, soft kisses fluttering down over his collarbones. He clutched Peter's shoulders, grunting as he shoved his dick up against Peter's, their hard dicks rubbing through the fabric of their jeans. Both their heads were spinning, but both of them felt some flood of relief, like something they'd been holding back had finally come through. Chris had admired, practically worshipped, Peter from the very beginning, hanging on his every word, taking it all to heart, following just about every piece of advice. Peter had always seen the glimpse of something in Chris' eyes, always wanted to know exactly how he worked, inside and out, wanted to know every inch of Chris from top to bottom. "God," Chris groaned, Peter's hand wrapping around his dick, his neck tense as he tried to keep breathing, "just do it, Peter, too fucking much right now." Peter sat up, unzipping his own pants and shuffling out of them as Chris slid out of his, both of their bodies crashing together again, Chris breathlessly kissing Peter, desperately reaching for Peter's cock, shorter than Jake's, he noticed, thicker though, and Peter's pervasive sense of self, his ability to always seem in control, it was stronger than ever and Chris could feel it almost pushing him down onto his back. The presence made him lie back, Peter's gaze calm and steady even now, even as Chris stroked him and sucked lightly on his nipple, free hand running through the hair on Peter's chest, feeling warm skin and a quick heartbeat. Peter's body slid against him, lithe and limber, every time their bodies rubbed together felt electric, frantic. It was good because they both knew it was wrong, knew that it was too good to stop though, especially when Peter slid his hand up, finger sliding into Chris' mouth, "Ready?" he asked, gritting his teeth as Chris sucked on his finger, hand smearing pre-cum down his dick, shivers running up his back with every stroke. "Get in me," Chris gasped, "just get it in." Peter shook his head, "Have to do this right," he whispered, "you deserve it." His fingers slid down Chris' body, a thin trail of spit in the wake of his steady fingers sliding over Chris' nipple, a light whimper filling his ears, slipping right down Chris' side, over his hipbone and right past his balls. Chris arched up onto his shoulders, fingers already tangling the sheets, knuckles white with anticipation. Peter circled his hole and he groaned, groaned so loud he was sure the entire world heard it. Wrapping a leg around Peter's waist, he pushed his ass down, wanting something, anything. "Steady," Peter groaned, "you'll get it." He kissed Chris one more time, feeling how soft his lips were, how he felt completely pliable in his arms, responsive to even the tiniest touch. Sliding in a finger, he felt Chris' entire body go rigid could almost see the tingle spread from his hole to his dick and to the rest of his body. He kept his lips on Chris' stifling any sound with his own deep groan, fingertip instantly finding Chris' prostate, instinctively circling it before jabbing at it, Chris' fingers gripping his shoulders. Peter's movements were slow, deep, and thorough. It drove Chris crazy, like Peter was mentally checking things off, not moving onto the next step until he'd elicited the exact response from Chris, he kept sliding his finger in and out, not sliding in another until Chris threw his head back, not letting off his neck until he grabbed his chest. "Fuck, Peter," Chris groaned, "just get that dick in me." "Cum for me, Chris," Peter whispered right into his ear, "let me see you." Chris bit his lip, squeezing his ass tight on Peter's two fingers, feeling him crook it at the first knuckle, practically slamming the cum right out of his dick. He groaned again, ,deep and low as he shot, ropes of cum arching right onto his stomach, Peter watching every spurt. "Fucking beautiful," Peter grunted, leaning down to lick up a few drops. Chris shook, body quivering as Peter kissed down his chest, taking a few seconds to lap up the cum before he sat back on his haunches, bringing Chris' legs to his shoulder. "He looks at you like he'd take you any time," Peter whispered, "now I know why." "Just fuck me," Chris said, voice dry and raspy. Instead, Peter leaned down again, kissing him deep and hard. He pulled one of Chris' legs down, wrapping it around his waist as he slowly slid his dick up and down Chris' crack. Chris shivered with anticipation, his dick rock hard again as he watched Peter's face, a mask of concentration, every single thrust even and measured. Chris threw an arm over his eyes when Peter finally relented, resting the head of his dick right at his hole and pausing just for a split second before he slid in. Slowly, he inched forward, Chris' groans muffled and labored breaths filling his eyes, both their bodies shining with a sheen of sweat. "Jesus, Chris," Peter groaned, Chris pulling him down for another kiss, slick hands sliding down Peter's cheeks, across his neck to rest on his shoulders again, fingers gripping strong muscle, legs tensing, pulling Peter in deeper, head flying backwards onto the bed when he felt Peter's heavy balls against his ass. Peter's grunts were low and deep, every sound resonating in Chris' ears. It was the only time he'd seen Peter like this, completely driven by instinct and lust, the complete opposite from the eloquent sage he was used to. Peter's teeth bit into his shoulder and he yelped, body racked with another wave of feeling as Peter started thrusting, deep and steady, making sure his cock slid across Chris' prostate with every move, feeling Chris' every response, from the subtle tightening in his muscles to the increasing volume of his groans. Peter pushed Chris over, settling him on his side as his cock slid in deeper, raking across Chris' prostate with every push and pull, Chris' body shaking and quivering as Peter's thrusts got harder and faster, body losing control of that signature composure and cool. Chris felt hot, his body on fire as Peter blew hot breaths across his neck, sloppy kisses on his lips, hands sliding all over his body, both of them exploring and committing every single detail to memory. Something had snapped and they'd ended up like this, two bodies connected, heaving chests and supple limbs, both inching closer and closer to orgasm. Sliding a finger down Chris' slick body, Peter watched the muscles tense, Chris' entire body completely reactive to even the slightest touch. He slipped his finger lower, feeling Chris tense when it reached his hole, felt him get completely rigid when it slid in alongside his dice, finger jamming right onto his prostate, cock still stretching him wide. Chris felt himself cum, felt everything: the fireworks, the tightness, the spasms, but he didn't actually cum. Peter watched the steady stream of pre-cum, also noticing Chris' explosive reaction. It seemed like his body even wanted to prolong the ordeal, make every second stretch out even longer. "Cum," Peter said simply, tone stern and commanding. He thrust one more time, hard and quick, their bodies smashing together one last time as he shot, Chris finally feeling the cum spurt, orgasm rushing through his body for real, hot and wet across his own stomach. Peter watched, struggling to keep his own eyes open through his orgasm, thick cum flooding Chris' chute, their bodies smashing together. Chris felt the weight on his body, the heavy breathing, the warmth and the wetness of Peter's tongue on his neck, his own body tired, breaths slowing. Chris' hands pushed Peter away, framing his face, but Peter was stubborn, tongue still lapping at his neck. Chris pried his eyes open, taking a deep breath and saw Boo perched on his stomach. Jolting upright, he held the dog to his chest, head darting left and right, his breathing heavy and his body warm, sweat glossing his face. "Peter? Wait...what?" "About time," Jake said, shaking his head, "here Boo, come on." He kneeled down and Boo bounded off the couch right into his arms. "Have a good nap? And Peter? Why are you looking for that lug?" "Weirdest dream ever," Chris said, still calming down, hand on his own racing heart, "is dinner ready?" "Come here," Jake said, letting Boo scamper to the floor. Chris got up off the couch, stumbled over to Jake and pressed their lips together, Jake releasing a muffled moan, his hand sliding down Chris' back, "There's so much food," he whispered when they separated, "you're going to be eating Thanksgiving food until Christmas." Chris hand ran up Jake's jaw, a smile on his face, finally breathing normally again, "Love you," he said, pressing his forehead to Jake's, "love you so much." "They're probably waiting for us," Jake said, pulling Chris tighter. Chris could fell the food on him, the woody herbs and sweet smells of cooking. "I don't care," Chris said, kissing Jake one more time, pushing everything out of his head and just feeling, outside and inside, it was all Jake. *** "Daddy had the craziest dream," Peter said to Aaron, nuzzling his nose against Aaron's tiny one, "your Uncle Chris, he's a handful just like you...and he has no idea." "Peter, get out here," Chris said, poking his head into the guestroom, "is everything okay?" He stepped inside, leaning over to run a finger across Aaron's tiny hand, the tiny fingers clutching at his, "He's getting so big." "Yeah," Peter said, beaming, "we're all ready. How was your nap? I must have been tossing and turning the whole time, woke up all sweaty and more tired than before." Chris' eyes glanced up at Peter's; they seemed sincere, but it was just too weird to be true. He shook his head, letting out a long breath, "They're waiting for us." "Cooking all day, those crazy Gyllenhaals," Peter said, starting towards the door. "I don't feel guilty at all," Chris said, smiling down at Aaron, "we would have just gotten in the way. Naps are better, aren't they, kid?" Peter led the way out to the dining room, candles flickering as Jake set the turkey down in the middle of the table. "Crazy," Chris whispered, eyes wide, "and I thought last year was good." Jake walked over, threw an arm across Chris' shoulders, "It's about family, about getting together and eating together. I hope we made enough." "Are you kidding?" Chris said, hugging him back, "this is amazing." Nudging Chris towards his chair, Jake walked around grabbing the carving knife. "I guess we should let the papa do this," he said, handing him the knife and fork. "No way, this is all yours," Peter said, hands up, "I was asleep all day. I'm not taking credit for any of this." "Alright," Jake said, huge smile beaming across his face. Chris could tell how proud of it he was. He was practically beaming his smile was so big. Jake stood over the turkey, knife just a few inches away from that crispy skin when they all heard the doorbell. "I'll get it," Chris said, confused, "everyone just...just keep doing that sitting thing." Chris ran to the door, practically ripping it off of its hinges as it opened, "Topher?" "Happy Thanksgiving, Chris," he said, smiling. He held up two six packs of Newcastle, "Jake said I was invited a few weeks back...I hope that invitation's still standing." "Did you RSVP?" Chris asked, grinning, pulling him into a hug, "it's so good to see you." "Get in here," Jake yelled, "both of you." Topher nodded as he entered, smiling and waving weakly as he took an empty seat next to Peter, "This looks awesome, Jake, really." "Let's get eating," Maggie said, "I'm so hungry." "You guys don't say anything before?" Topher asked, slipping his coat off, "nothing?" "I guess we should say something," Chris said, "it's a pretty big deal." "That's your department, babe," Jake said, a wry smile on his face. He knew how much Chris hated being called that, but if they were going to keep getting interrupted, he was going to push every button. He nudged Chris jokingly, smile wide as he pulled Chris over for a quick kiss, "Get to it." "Alright," Chris said, "okay. Thanksgiving, like Jake said is all about family. So everyone's here, the craziest family I can imagine. Actors, moms, dads, and brothers, friends, in-laws, and me--all together. So on this one single day, where everyone everywhere is celebrating being together, it's the day we get to pretend to be just like every other normal family. No scripts and no cameras, no editors and no rewrites, this is for real. This is our family and I wouldn't trade it for anything." "Here, here," Jake said, raising his glass. Chris smiled wide, couldn't remember the last time he'd been smiling for so long, been happier than having everyone right here at home. "Let's eat," Peter said after he took a sip of wine. Jake nodded, carving the turkey as Chris passed the potatoes, every single one of them Aaron included, basking in the glow of the candles and the good spirits. The food was great, the conversation almost as good, and more than that, having everyone together, fleeting as it all seemed, was Chris' favorite part. Leaning over to Jake, "I'm thankful for you more than anything," he whispered, pressing his forehead to Jake's temple, "I'd go through everything all over again if it meant I'd get to feel this in the end." Jake's hand reached over and he ran the back of his fingers down Chris' cheek. He let out a happy sigh, "You deserve it, every bit of it." "I love you," Chris said, "I can't say it enough." "Keep saying it and I'll keep listening." "Promise?" Jake only nodded, turning to kiss Chris again, just like he couldn't get enough of "I love you," he couldn't get enough of person saying it." --- Feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com or MSN messenger with that same e-mail address.