Date: Sat, 27 Oct 2007 21:36:01 -0400 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 40 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 very grateful for all the people I've met there. Sign up at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew. A special thanks goes to everyone who's written to me from the very beginning and to those just starting. 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 L Part L "What do you want?" Jake asked, arms crossed over his chest. "What did you do to help him that you didn't do for me?" Kurt asked. If Jake wanted straight answers, he'd shoot them right out. "I didn't do anything." "What did your mom do? Your dad? Did they just like him more? He seems like someone parents would wet themselves over." "He was fine on his own, he didn't need any help," Jake said, "and yes, my parents love him. He's not you and you're not him. You don't have much in common." That was a lie. Jake had been thinking about, more often than he'd like to admit, but Kurt seemed to be just a few steps behind Chris, career-wise. Chris would be the first to admit he'd gotten more than one lucky break. "We have you." Jake sighed, arguing, even calmly arguing, wasn't what he wanted to be doing during his lunch hour, especially after calling Chris to cancel the plans they'd made. "We were really, really young, Kurt." "You told me you loved me," Kurt had a way of talking that didn't offend anyone. His intonation was succinct, exact. He wasn't looking for pity. He was only stating a fact. "I did," Jake said, "but things didn't work out. Everyone makes mistakes." "I was a mistake?" he huffed, "you're the same charming guy I went out with back then, that's for sure." "Wasn't I a mistake?" Jake asked, "all we ever did was fight. You wanted to write and I wanted to get my ass out of school." Jake remembered it vividly even though it wasn't the most pleasant part of his life. Columbia was great, but with Maggie making movies and his parents doing the same, he wondered why he wasn't a part of that. Dropping out had been hard for everyone, especially his mom. Kurt was there too, but their constant fighting, Kurt's constant urges to get out and network, to leech off Jake's parents, it was all too draining. He needed out of New York, out of school, and the more he thought about it, flying across the ocean was the easiest way to get away from Kurt back then. The fact that he would be earning his chops on stage was a bonus attached to the move. Mistakes led to mistakes, though, he'd managed to fuck up another situation in London. "You think that maybe, we could have worked out if we weren't so stupid?" Kurt asked. "I don't think about things like that," Jake said, his body coursing with nervous energy. Kurt wasn't a threat to him or to Chris, but there was always an unavoidable sense of malaise when he was around Jake. The bad blood between the two of them was still there, no matter how civil either of them acted. "Of course you wouldn't," he said snickering softly, "you've changed, Jake. I guess I can thank him for it." "I'd hope so," Jake said, "it's been long enough. We all grow up." Kurt tended to remember the good times they had together, entire days when they'd just lie in bed and talk, gazes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling, both of them laughing at nothing at all, never once thinking that they'd break up. They were untouchable. Love was easy back then, neither of them had much responsibility and on top of that, the few responsibilities they did have were so easy to ignore. Jake would have painted the story differently. "That new story he wrote," Kurt said. "Don't even start," Jake interrupted. "it was great." "Did he come up with this Seven Deadly Sins thing himself? Or did GQ figure that out for him?" "Give him some credit," Jake said, anger starting to tinge his words, "he's a writer, Kurt. Occasionally someone finds a new way to spin something like that." "Was it weird that he made you read Lust?" "It's a story. Grace read 'Sloth.' He's not...slothy." "What makes you think I'm not writing one right now in my head?" "Because you're blacklisted. Nobody gives up a job at the Times, Kurt. Why did you do it?" "I wasn't writing what I wanted to. Easy as that." "Enough," Jake said, finally meeting Kurt eye-to-eye, "what is this about? Cut the bullshit." *** "You're really flexible," Topher said, watching Chris stretch out on the grass. He was grabbing his toe, made it look like his spine was nothing more than a silken cord. "We just ran six miles," Chris said, "that might have something to do with it." "Can I rinse off at your place?" Topher asked, "my house is a mess." "Are you still fighting with that asshole?" "We're not fighting." "But he's an asshole." "Right." Chris laughed, letting himself fall back onto the cool grass, his body hurt and he was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he felt good. Even better than that was knowing that Jake was almost done with the movie--his movie. He didn't know why, but he felt like the two of them deserved a vacation; maybe it was Jake's schedule and maybe it was his lack of a schedule that was making him restless. He was done with his stories and the only thing occupying his days were GQ photo shoots, the rare publicity event that Celeste would find for him, and waiting for Jake to get home from shooting. He'd even managed to sleep through the buzz of Jake's beard trimmer every morning. They'd grown into a really comfortable routine of eating dinner, throwing balls on the beach for the dogs, and coming back into the house. Chris wondered why it had taken so long and why he felt so weird about it. He thought it was what he'd wanted all along, a normal life, but here it was; all he wanted was a break from it. "Are those new shoes?" Topher asked, eyeing Chris' Nike sneakers. Sitting up to look, Chris flushed a light red, "They sent them. Don't you get...free stuff sometimes?" It was embarrassing how much free stuff he and Jake got, more embarrassing to him was the fact that when he finally could afford nice things, people decided he had dome something right and earned the privilege of not having to pay for those nice things. "Not stuff I'd actually wear," Topher said, raising an eyebrow, "those are nice." "They're from that store Jake always gets his from. They just sent them over." "Must be nice," Topher said, pulling Chris up to his feet. "Need help stretching?" Chris nodded and fell back to the grass, Topher grabbing his foot before leaning into it, Chris letting out a short grunt as he felt his muscles flex. He switched legs and Chris groaned again, eyes rolling back a little, "That feels damn good," he said softly as Topher's eyes darted around. "Little more," Chris whispered, "then I'll do you." He had Chris' knee up near his ear, he looked down and saw how close his crotch was to Chris' before he pulled back up, it was getting a little too close. Topher pushed a little harder before pulling Chris up to his feet. "I'm okay," he said, "you don't need to." "You shouldn't keep getting together and breaking up with that Bradley guy. He's nice." "Don't change the subject. And, for the record, he's nice...to you." "Everyone has their own issues," Chris said. Topher followed Chris through the park, the two of them taking long, deep breaths. "That new story's terrific," Topher said, "picture wasn't too bad either." "Yeah?" Chris asked, smiling, "I really...these little stories are important to me. Writing a book is one thing, but these short ones, they're different. It's like trying to control myself." "Would it be weird if I told you that you looked hot in the spread?" "Only if you say it like that." "Never mind, then." Laughing, Chris looked down at his shoes; it never got easy seeing himself in magazines. He wondered if anyone, loyal reader or not, really wanted to see him six months in a row, and even then, if any reader actually went out and got the clothes that GQ had slapped on his back. The world would be full of polished, over-styled, pseudo-intellectuals, he thought, and they weren't crawling the streets of Los Angeles--yet. It was the most exposure he'd ever gotten. Topher watched Chris for a second, noting his quiet confidence and newfound esteem. He'd never been reserved, but these days he seemed to be walking taller, definitely more sure of himself. "Jonas is leaving soon," he said, "you going to miss him?" "Of course," Chris said, "but...he probably won't leave. If he's going to do movies, he'll be here." "They make movies in Europe, too." "I'll miss him," Chris said, "seeing him every day, you get used to it." "So you're used to the way he flirts with you every waking minute of his life?" "He's harmless." "Until he gets a drink in him." There had been times, Chris remembered, where Jonas had gotten out of hand. He'd kissed Chris, kissed Jake, even kissed Topher on multiple occasions. He was sloppy, but even through all that, he managed to find a place in all of their hearts. He exuded a certain charm and was just so handsome that Chris sometimes found himself staring at Jonas', right through the nonchalant, devil-may-care expression. "I think it's time to get rid of Brad," Topher sighed, "he's great in bed, but I don't know if I could deal with this over and over again." "He looks like he'd be good in bed," Chris said, tossing Topher a sideways glance. "Trust me, he doesn't disappoint," Topher said, grinning. *** "You know I had a book deal once, right?" Kurt asked. Jake nodded slowly. He hated talking about his own work and wondered why Kurt would assume that he wouldn't mind listening to someone else talk about theirs. "Well, I had it, I don't have it anymore." Jake stayed silent, knew that Kurt would keep going without any encouragement. "Weird, because it was this book about falling in love for the first time and all the crazy things it makes you do. Sound familiar?" "Vaguely," Jake was growing more and more impatient. "I got bumped by my publisher because it was a little too close to another book coming out. You might know it, might know the writer. They said he had more," he hesitated, "more...of a point of view than I did." "Chris didn't have anything to do with your career, Kurt. Find another scapegoat." "I don't need to if I found the one that did it already. Jake, where the hell does he get off getting my publisher to drop me? He can't stand the competition?" "How would he do it? He's not Oprah. Why would your publisher listen to him?" "They wouldn't," he said, "but they'd listen to you...or your parents." "He's not like you, Kurt. I keep telling you. He doesn't ask for help, even when he needs it. My parents have nothing to do with his books." "Don't lie to me, Jake. Why the hell did you help him and not me? You just left," Kurt was losing his composure and it startled Jake. He could see Kurt physically shrinking away, his jaw tense and his eyes fiery, "goddamn it. I almost had it. I almost had everything. Now I'm fucking writing reviews for some Nazi with a grudge." Jake's eyes scanned Kurt's angry figure. He was everything Chris wasn't. Where Kurt was sure of himself physically, Chris was sure of his capacity to write. Where Kurt reached out as far as he could for outside support, Chris looked inside, determined to make it on his own. Where Kurt was emotional, Chris was passionate. Jake couldn't imagine that he'd ever been happy with someone that was like this. The allure of the tortured artist went so far, that initial physical attraction coupled with the romance of the bohemian lifestyle, but now Jake saw Kurt for what he was: capable of writing but incapable of doing the grunt work from there. "Kurt, I'm sorry," Jake said. "It's about damn time," he said, almost yelling, "took you long enough. You broke my heart, Jake. You broke that and then you had to stomp on my goddamn spirit. I couldn't fucking write after that, it's like you fucking drained me." "I'm done here," Jake said as he stepped back, "this isn't about me anymore." He walked away from Kurt, never once looking back. It only confirmed his notion that the past should stay there. "Hey," he heard, a hand on his shoulder. "You left your phone on set," Jonas said, handing it to him, "your boy called." "Thanks," Jake said softly. "Miss your lunchtime fuck?" Jonas asked, smiling wide as he pushed his hair off his forehead. His grin faded when he saw Jake's expression remain serious. "It's not a good time," Jake said. Jonas was stunned. Jake was always the one on set making jokes, shooting basketball between takes, screwing up his lines on purpose. Something was seriously wrong if a joke like that wasn't affecting him. "Anything I can do?" "Can you go back in time?" "That wouldn't bring anything but more trouble, I don't think," he said. Jake chuckled, Jonas was definitely right. "Are we almost done today?" "Not even close," Jonas said, reaching over to grip his shoulder. "Get me out of here," Jake said, feigning exasperation. He was exhausted, but as soon as he got on set, he knew he'd be filled with a newfound vigor. That's how it always was. The cameras rolled and he was on, no matter what. *** Chris sat rapt, trying to absorb every word that Kurt was saying. He'd never written anything apart from straightforward fiction or something that drew from his own experiences, things that were semiautobiographical. Outside of school, he'd never written anything critical, mostly because he didn't have a chance to. He'd always been enamored with the review process; not understanding that someone could make their living writing about other peoples' writing. It seemed roundabout, but his sales depended almost directly on what they wrote. Befriending a critic, even an unemployed one, didn't seem to have any cons. Kurt seemed nice enough, not sugarcoating any of the processes of writing a review. Chris wanted to hear all about it. Everything from advanced copies of new books to author interviews, he knew about it from his own work, but seeing and hearing it from the other end was something else entirely. "You've got a really nice place here," Kurt said, glancing around the room. Nodding, Chris' brain was spinning. Editors and hierarchy was entirely different in his realm of writing, magazine or otherwise. He wondered if it was his experience and clout that gave him pretty much free reign over everything from style to content. Writing, for the Times especially, it seemed, was too limited and restricted. The way Kurt described his editors was scathing, but even he admitted that he learned something from each and every draft and re-draft. Chris' editors never had much to say apart from talking about the length of his pieces and the occasional typo. Part of him felt cheated. He wanted to learn and to improve. He was missing out on something that every single one of his professors stressed: critiques. "We just moved here," Chris said, "so everything's new. Give me a few more months and it'll look like a dump." "You and Jake?" Kurt asked, eyes still scanning the room. He was looking for photos, specifically, but apart from a little framed black and white picture from what he assumed was a wedding, the only there weren't that many here in the living room. "Jake Gyllenhaal," Chris said, nodding, "you might know him." "I've heard of him," Kurt said, chuckling softly, "but who hasn't?" For that matter, who hasn't heard of you?" "I'm not anything like Jake," Chris said, "not in those terms." "I just wanted to say again, you're fantastic," Kurt said, smoothing his pants, "reviews are hardly what we really think about the book. It's more about writing what people want to read about things they read." "No, I get it," Chris said, "thanks for coming over. I know it seems weird, but I've never really talked to a critic. I've been interviews, but nobody's really talked to me." "You're intimidating," Kurt admitted. Chris' forehead furrowed. Of all the things people though of him, he could hardly believe that anyone would say he was intimidating. He wasn't that tall or that big, he was definitely not that outspoken. If anyone asked, he'd probably tell them that he was more often intimidated by people that being intimidating himself. "You've got to be joking." "That right there," Kurt said, pointing to a shelf with Chris' awards, "that's intimidating. That," he pointed to another shelf, where both hardcover and soft-cover editions of his books, in whatever languages his publishers sent him, sat next to a stack of magazines that Kurt figured that Chris was either in or on the cover of. Jake had a similar stack of magazines in his office, only his was nearly triple Chris'. "All that's very intimidating." "That's nothing," Chris said, shrugging, "it's just work." Kurt shook his head, "That's 'award winning,' 'critically acclaimed,' 'original,' and 'groundbreaking' work." Chris rolled his eyes. "Come here, I'll show you what I'm really proud of." He led Kurt out of the living room and into the kitchen. He pulled a box off of the top of the refrigerator and set it down on the kitchen table. Inside were various pictures of he and Jake, some of Topher and some of Jonas, lots of family snapshots, "I'm more proud that I've managed to be a part of something like this than of all that stuff over there. It sounds so cheesy, but I don't think I was happy when I was just a writer on my own. I found this family, real or not, and that's when I realized that if I stopped writing, I'd still be me. I'm a writer, but Jake--and his mom especially--they told me that I'm other things, too." "I like you," Kurt blurted out, immediately regretting it. "Shit," he said under his breath, "I don't mean it like that. I...just...oh Jesus." "I like you too, Kurt," Chris said, "but definitely not like that. I'm...shit, Jake and I pretty serious." "No, I know," Kurt said, words flying out of his mouth, "I just, I didn't think we'd get along like this, but you're really cool. Is it weird to ask if maybe we could...be friends?" It was like a flashback to kindergarten, where things actually were as easy as asking straight out. "I'd like that," Chris said, smiling, "I really would." *** Chris walked alongside Jake, their footsteps slow and deliberate as their eyes darted up and down, left and right. "There it is," Chris said, grabbing a familiar bottle. Jake's face lit up as Chris set the wine into the cart. "We should really buy a case," Jake said. That particular bottle always made him smile. It was the same wine they had at their wedding, from the vineyard where they'd held it, and every time Jake saw it in the store, he'd have to grab one or two. The label was simple, just white, letter-pressed "Atelier" in small type, nothing fancy at all. It was plain and clean, refreshing on the shelf next to all the other overcomplicated labels. "And you can drink it all," Chris said, rolling his eyes, "but we should get more than one. Other people drink." "We've got enough food to feed everyone twice," Jake said, "how many people did you ask over?" "Just our friends," Chris said, pulling the shopping cart along, "we still...I guess we're ok." Tuesday night and they were out shopping for groceries, the supermarket mostly empty. But the rest of the world, photographers included, was settling in for the night and the two of them liked having the store to themselves. "Do you know what you're doing now?" Chris asked. The movie was about to wrap up, which always a little bittersweet for Jake. He loved working, especially getting to know an entirely new circle of cast and crew, but he loved not working just as much; sleeping in, having time to go running and cycling, being with Chris every waking--and sleeping--minute of every day, he couldn't get enough of it. Jake only shook his head. Eyes scanning the grocery store shelves. Their cart was full, but they had a routine. Up and down the aisles, even if they didn't need anything. There was a sort of comfort they felt in the solitude of the supermarket, something alluring about the shiny packaging and all the possibility on those shelves. "We should go somewhere," Chris threw out. He waited for Jake to respond. It was really selfish, he knew. "We should," Jake agreed, pulling a jar of mustard off the shelf to read the label before setting it back. He'd been completely engrossed with this filming schedule that he hadn't had a chance to think about what to do next. The bizarre lull between the end of shooting and the chaos of publicity was still jarring, no matter how many times he'd gone through it. "Somewhere close though, I don't know when the re-shoots are, or if there are any." "Anywhere's fine," Chris said, wrapping his arms around Jake's waist, resting his head on his shoulder. "You smell good." Jake smiled, his hands wrapping around Chris' at his waist. "Love you," Jake whispered. Chris poked his stomach playfully before pulling away. Jake grabbed his wrist and pulled him close again, fingers digging into his sides, pulling a string of strained laughs from Chris. "Love you, too," Chris said, catching his breath. He pushed the hair off of his forehead. *** "What are you doing here?" Jake said, voice stiff as he pulled Jake down the steps of the deck down to the sand. "He invited me," Kurt said, his grin bordering on smug. "He doesn't know," Jake said, "that anything happened between us." "He doesn't have to. I'm just here to congratulate you on this movie like everyone else." "How does he even know you?" Jake asked, eyes narrowing. Kurt remained speechless, not sure exactly what to say and not sure exactly what he wanted to do if he did say something. He had all the cards for once. "We fucked," he said. "Don't joke with me, Landis," Jake said, "I'm not stupid." Kurt chuckled, "I'm not here to make trouble, Jake. I've done enough of that. Just here to have some barbeque, pat you on the back, and make some new friends." "I'm watching you," Jake said, "don't think I'm not. You stay out of our lives." Jake stomped up the steps again, finding Chris in the tiny crowd. He pulled Chris close to him, enveloping him in a hug, nose in his hair. Surprised at the sudden attention, Chris kissed him softly, "Is the grill ready?" Chris whispered, smiling as Jake pressed their foreheads together, noses grazing. Jake's hand slid up Chris' t-shirt to his stomach, "Hungry?" "Alright, alright," Topher said, "we haven't even started eating yet." Chris slipped out from Jake's arms, "Where's your boy?" Jake asked. "He's not mine anymore," Topher said, "we're in the off again part of the relationship." "Settle down, Grace," Jake said, throwing his arm across Chris' shoulders, "it's the way to go." "I'm trying," he said. There was a time he'd be jealous, maybe there was still a little bit of resentment, he thought, but now there were more feelings involved. He'd never want to hurt Chris or Jake, they were too close now; he and Jake were brothers, almost. There was no way he'd jeopardize that for anything else. "Come on," Chris said, "get cooking." Jake leaned over for one more kiss before he went over to the grill, leaving Chris and Topher to stare out at the waves, the ocean breeze lazily blowing across their faces. "Who's that over there?" Topher asked, motioning over to Kurt, who was leaning against the house, half-bored and half-awkwardly scanning the other guests. "He's a critic," Chris said, "he...a friend. Want me to introduce you?" "Not really my type," Topher said, "but thanks." Chris laughed, "When did you get so picky? He's cute." Topher looked again. He was dirty blond, longish hair pulled into a short ponytail; definitely not as tan as Chris or Jake, but there was some sort of curiosity there that caught Topher's eye. "No, he's cute. I just don't know if I want to give up on Brad just yet." "Bradley and you have been fighting as much as you've been together, it might be time to start with someone new." "That's the hard part," Topher said, "getting to know someone. You always wonder what they're really like. Everyone puts on a show at first." "I guess I didn't put on good enough of a show for you, then," Chris said. "What's he like?" Topher asked, "tell me he's mellow." *** Chris stood beside Jake, watching as Topher and Kurt talked across the deck. He was feeding Boo chicken, slowly shredding in his fingers and tossing it into the dog's eager mouth as Jake worked the meat on the grill. Jake was eyeing the couple suspiciously, but part of him was glad that Kurt was occupied. "He's not so bad," Chris said, noticing Jake's vitriolic glances. "He's pretty bad," Jake said. "No, he's not," Chris said, tossing the last of the meat to Boo. He sauntered off in search of more scraps, everyone 'oohing' and 'aahing' over him. Chris shook his head and stepped closer to Jake, brushing his foot up and down Jake's calf, "Topher just needs someone to get his mind off his boyfriend." "That's not the right guy," Jake said, flipping a slab of meat, sending a sear through the air and flames shooting up through the grates. Chris watched the flamed die down, "Trust me." "How long did you talk to him?" Chris asked, brow furrowing. "Long enough to know," Jake said. Chris huffed a little, sneaking away from the grill to the other side of the deck, smiling at the few greetings that he got, "Hey Jonas," he said, "keep an eye on Topher for us, okay?" "Why?" "Jake said something about that guy he's with." "What?" "I don't know. But Jake never gets like this," Chris said, "especially when it comes to Topher." "Will do," Jonas said, jokingly saluting Chris. Shaking his head, he leaned against the rail, letting the cool wind close his eyes and whip his hair around. "Thanks for throwing me this party." "It's only partly for you," Chris said, "do we really need a reason to throw a party?" "Always one for reason, aren't you?" Chris felt Jonas' arm on his shoulders, "I'm going to miss you, buddy." "I'm not going anywhere." "You're going home. You asked Jake for a ride to the airport." "I'm coming back," he said, surprised, "I thought I told you. That's why this party is nonsense." "This is nonsense!" Chris said, pulling him into a hug, "God, I thought I'd never see you again." "Never say never, Christopher," Jonas said, "after all, I haven't had a chance to get a piece of this ass yet." "Fuck you," Chris said playfully, still holding Jonas in his arms. "If that's what you're into," Jonas said, "I'm up for anything." "Stop." "Something tells me that when you say 'stop,' you don't really mean it." Chris pushed him away playfully, but Jonas pulled him back into another warm hug, "I'm glad I met you guys. Fell into the right crowd, I did." "You got lucky," Chris said. *** Jake shut the grill, the last of the food done and ready for hungry mouths. The sun was already starting its descent, though he knew that had a good amount of daylight left. He didn't know how Kurt found out where they lived or how he knew about this last-minute party, but he didn't like it. What more, he didn't like that Chris somehow managed to see the good in him, which Chris usually did, but here, it seemed to be more than just naivety. It wasn't often that he got taken advantage of, but Jake saw occasions where he put himself in the position for it. There weren't any good intentions that Jake could think of for Kurt's appearance here. The exchange they'd just had was still replaying in Jake's head. They'd been through it before, countless times. For every retort and reason Jake had, Kurt somehow managed to find something to say back. He always had to have the last word, then and now. Jake couldn't even remember one thing about their relationship that wasn't tinged with disdain. Sure, good times were easily eclipsed by bad, but if he couldn't remember one good thing at all, he was happy to be out of the situation. "Pretend to have a good time," Jake heard. It was Natalie, who he hadn't seen in months, but even her cheery disposition couldn't cut the mood he was in. "Remember him?" Jake asked. Natalie had seen him, but she couldn't put a name to the face until Jake actually pointed him out. "Oh God," she said, almost choking on the beer she was drinking, eyes wide in disbelief, "are you serious?" "He's standing right there, isn't he?" "What? How? I...can't. Remember how bad you were together?" "Remember? I want to forget all about him. Nat, you can't fucking start to know what's going on in my head." "How does he know Chris? Does he know about you guys? Well he has to, doesn't he?" "I don't know what he knows and I don't care. I want him gone," Jake said, feeling his blood start to pump faster. It was like this, even back then. Kurt managed to bring out every last ounce of anger that Jake had inside of himself. "Calm down," she said, grabbing his arm, "you look like you're going to punch...do something stupid." Jake leaned against the deck railing, slowly breathing as he loosened his fists, shaking himself a little. He groaned, every passing second was a test of his self-control; it was wearing thin. "Chris doesn't know, obviously," Natalie said, "are you going to talk about it?" "I don't want to talk about it," Jake said quickly. "We all thought it was trouble, Jake, when you started seeing Chris. We didn't want you putting yourself through all that again. But come on, things worked out. If he talks to Chris," she paused, "wouldn't you rather he hear it from you?" Jake sighed, never imagining that he'd be in this situation, never thinking that he'd have to explain himself--his choices, his mistakes, his indiscretions--especially not to someone he loved so much. A long time ago, Jake promised himself that Chris deserved to know everything, if he wanted to know. If he didn't want to know, which is what happened, Jake wouldn't just volunteer information that seemed superfluous now that he was settled down. If things were working out fine, smooth and comfortable, he wouldn't try to fuel problems along. "He was such an asshole," Natalie said, "I mean...do you think he's changed?" "Not one bit," Jake said wiping his face with his hands. "What's Topher doing with him?" "Hopefully he's telling one of his lame stories about Brad Pitt. Those will put anyone off." "Jake," Natalie said, voice soothing and sweet, "Chris isn't going to care about something that happened back then. I know that and you know that." "I just don't want him to think he's just...number two. He's not," Jake said. "He won't think that," Natalie interrupted. "It just looks so bad," Jake said, "like I just...I don't know. They're so alike, Nat, but they're not." *** "We'll clean it up tomorrow," Chris said, "just leave it." Topher dropped the red plastic cup, arms up in the air, surrendering to Chris' constant chiding. "Fine, fine," he said, "but I'll help then too, so what's the point?" Chris rolled his eyes, caught the sight of Jake on the deck, his back to the house as he stared out at the horizon. "Jake was pretty...preoccupied with getting his meat just right, wasn't he?" "I didn't notice,' Topher said, "but he gets pretty intense when he cooks, you know that." Topher knew Jake got pretty intense other times, too. "I'm going to talk to him for a second," Chris said. He turned around to face Topher, "Are you spending the night or are you sick of us. We can watch a movie or something." "We'll see how your talk goes," he said, "you might not be in the mood for company." Chris shrugged, "It can't be that serious." He slid the glass door open slowly, tiptoeing out onto the deck. He heard Jake let out a soft groan when he wrapped his arms around his waist, his nose at the base of Jake's neck, "Hey you." "I like these nice calm parties," Jake whispered, "where its about the food and not about the beer." "I saw you throw back a couple beers," Chris said, laughing softly. Jake switched their positions, cradling Chris in his arms as they both looked out over the water. It felt more comfortable, Jake felt much more secure when his arms were wrapped around Chris than when it was the other way around. He liked to know that he had everything he loved right in front of him. "I love you," Jake whispered in his ear, "more than anyone." Chris settled back against Jake's body. Jake pulled him in tighter, "What's wrong?" "I don't know," Jake said, "there's just a lot of stuff...I don't know." Silently, Chris tangled his fingers into Jake's. Chris wasn't completely unaccustomed to Jake's moods, especially right after wrapping a movie. He'd literally been someone else for two months, getting into the mindset of a fictional character, living and breathing another identity for most of the day. It was strange to think that he'd just shed all that with the words "That's a wrap." Chris didn't know how he did it. But he did, movies wrapped and Jake managed to come back to the goofiness that Chris had fallen in love with, the same Jake that he married, the same Jake that he woke up next to every morning. Sometimes it happened fast and other movies took their toll on Jake, both physically and mentally, but he always came back. "Well, we're getting away. You can play golf and we'll sit by the pool, forget all this." Jake nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. A tiny vacation might be just the thing to push all the Kurt trouble out of his head. He'd just relax, sleep in late, and fuck Chris every chance he got. "I'll even pack for you," Chris offered, "you don't have to do anything." "What did I do to deserve you?" Jake asked, kissing Chris' ear, hugging him just a little tighter. "Must have done something right. I'm a catch." *** Palm Springs wasn't Chris' idea--it was Celeste's. She'd done most of the grunt work, finding the trendiest little hotel, getting the two of them into the most exclusive restaurant, and even getting Jake a brand new set of golf clubs. Chris didn't know how, he didn't even ask for anything but a suggestion, but a few hours later, the buzz of their fax machine revealed a detailed itinerary and a grateful note. When they took a vacation, it meant that Celeste got one, too. Jake's sunglasses hid his eyes, but Chris could tell he was more than just a little happy to be out of the hustle and bustle of the city. "What do you think?" Chris asked. "That you knew exactly what we needed." The desert stretched as far as the eye could see, but it was far from desolate. Palm trees, golf courses, and manmade lakes dotted the landscape. Chris grabbed Jake's hand, pulling him out to the tiny balcony attached to their suite, "This is awesome," Chris said, smiling widely. Jake pulled his sunglasses up onto his head and grabbed Chris by the waist, their lips coming together as Chris' hands slid up Jake's chest to his shoulders. Jake's hands slipped up under his shirt, feeling his warm skin, familiar curves and muscles meeting his fingers. "I got something special for you tonight," Chris whispered, "but I'm not against a little preview." "All this and you've got surprises, too?" Jake asked, pulling Chris' body tight to his. "Is it in here?" Jake asked, his hands slipping down into Chris' pants. Chris jumped at the sudden shift, "Not there," Chris said, trying to hold in a nervous giggle. Jake let out a soft laugh, their lips meeting again. "But you're getting the idea," Chris whispered. "You're too much," Jake whispered, "we didn't have to come all the way out here for this. I'd have been fine with a weekend of this at home." Hands slid down Jake's chest, a groan coming from deep within Chris' throat as he felt the muscles of his chest and stomach. "I think it's time for the preview," Chris whispered, pulling away slightly. He grabbed the hem of Jake's shirt and hooked it over his neck, framing his chest in the stretchy cotton, his lips grazing Jake's collarbones, hands still running slow circles over his stomach. He slowly bent down, thinking to himself that if he spent the entire weekend on his knees, that it wouldn't be so bad at all. Chris' lips traced the lines of Jake's chest, darting out to lick at his nipples, sending ripples up and down Jake's spine as he steadied himself against the balcony's railing. Jake pulled Chris up for one more kiss, his tongue pushing past Chris', their bodies pressed together, Chris' lips were pink and he was breathless when Jake pulled away, only to push him down to his chest again, fingers roughly guiding his head from nipple to nipple and then finally lower. Chris' hands were busy at the fly of his jeans, yanking them down and stroking Jake's cock through the thin material of his underwear as he licked at the taut muscles of Jake's stomach. Jake groaned as he nuzzled his nose into his crotch and Chris only echoed the noise, breaths heavy as he pulled Jake's underwear off. Jake yanked his head back, their eyes locking, "Balls first," Jake said, voice gravelly. Before he could respond, Jake had pushed his head back into his crotch and Chris took a ball into his mouth, tongue lapping at the soft skin of Jake's sac. He steadied himself, hand on Jake's thigh as he took the other ball in, noticing the loose skin of Jake's sac tighten, his balls rising just slightly as he licked a long, hot streak up Jake's shaft. He felt Jake's entire body shudder, a choked gasp falling from his lips as Chris swirled his tongue around the head of his cock. Jake's fingers gripped at his scalp. Chris' tongue flicked over Jake's slit, greedily lapping up every bit of pre-cum he could get. Jake pushed him down, but he sucked at the head a little more, knowing every spot, that ridge right under the head, the spot at the tip, that drove Jake out of his mind. Grunting loud, both of Jake's hands tangled in Chris' hair before he slammed in, lodging every inch of his cock in Chris' throat. Gagging with surprise, Chris pulled off slightly, but Jake pushed him right back down, quickly pushing and pulling Chris' head, keeping his hips still. The wet sounds of Chris' lips and tongue combined with his own grunts, his breathing almost labored now as he tried to keep himself from the brink. Chris looked up at Jake, every muscle of his chest in stark relief, the cords in his neck tense and his jaw tight, his face strained and controlled all at once. He slowed his thrusting, but kept his cock deep, craving the tight confines of Chris' throat. "Come on," Jake encouraged, "take it." He threw his head back, thrusting fast again. He gave up trying to hold back. This weekend wasn't about control. Moaning, he pulled Chris' head back one more time, locking eyes as he froze, the first spurt of cum shooting straight down Chris' throat. His hands flew backwards to steady himself and Chris' shot up to grab the base of his cock, ropes of cum shooting out across his features as the tip of his tongue kept tickling the bottom of Jake's cock. It took every ounce of energy to stay on his feet, his whole body racked with spasms, the orgasm almost overwhelmingly intense. Jake strained to keep his eyes open and catch his breath as Chris fell back onto his haunches, breathing heavily as he swallowed hard and wiped the cum from his face with the back of his hands. Jake was on him in a second, their bodies crashing into the floor of the balcony as Jake kissed him deeply, the taste of cum only making his lips more eager. Chris pushed him off a little, still catching his breath, "Fuck," he groaned. "You're too fucking good," Jake whispered. He reached for Chris' pants, but Chris grabbed his hand, shaking his head. "Hold on, hold on," Chris said, "let me...Jesus." His head was spinning. "You didn't cum," Jake whispered, reaching into Chris' pants. Surprisingly, his fingers met wet slickness inside the fabric. Chris chuckled, blushing slightly, "It was that good," he whispered. Before he could say anything else, Jake's lips were on his one more time. *** "I don't play golf," Chris said, flipping through his magazine. "I thought this weekend was about spending time together," Jake said, looking over his new golf bag, "and I'm out here on hole...seven without you." "I don't want you getting sick of me," Chris said, moving his phone over to the other ear, "I miss you though, I swear." "I sense more than a little sarcasm there," Jake said, finally settling on a seven iron, mostly because he didn't know how to tell them apart. The only thing he knew about golf was that balls were supposed to get into holes. Beyond that, he was pretty clueless. Dabbling in it now and again was fine, but he'd give himself another twenty years before he took seriously. "How are you doing out there?" Chris asked, "are you...under par or whatever?" "Are you bored in the room? I know you want to come out and ride around in the cart." "You just want me to play caddy." "I want to do more than that," Jake said, leaning against the golf club, his eyes squinting out across the green, "I expect my caddies to be full service." Chris didn't say anything, half-engrossed in the old issue of the New Yorker he'd found in their suite. "Hello?" Jake sounded mildly annoyed. "I'm here." Jake huffed, nothing angry, just a noise out of his nose. His voice got low, "I thought this weekend was going to be about us. I didn't expect to see much of Palm Springs." "How do you know this isn't foreplay right now?" Chris asked, "what if I told you to open that little pocket on your golf bag?" "Then I'd do it." "So do it." Jake saw more than one; the first had wooden tees in it, the second held golf balls, the third one was larger than the other two, and Jake bit his lip when he his fingers grazed a hard plastic dildo. His eyes widened and he glanced around the empty green before pulling it out. It was hefty and surprisingly, just about the same size as his dick. "Hello?" Chris asked. Jake didn't realize he'd been silent the whole time, but suddenly, his mouth was dry. "Jake?" "Christopher Lewis, you are a dirty boy," Jake whispered, putting the plastic cock back into its pocket before sliding his club back in the bag. "I'm done with this round," he said, "you better be ready when I get back." *** Jake's was pressed on top of Chris, his lips at Chris' neck as the dildo slid in and out of his hole without much effort at all. The load of cum Jake had shot inside him had eased the initial penetration, but Chris had a feeling that the familiar size of it, he'd looked at so many before settling on one that resembled the only cock he knew as well as his own, made it easier, too. He was groaning, almost incoherent as Jake pushed it in and jabbed it at his prostate. Their bodies were soaking with sweat, Chris' stomach sticky with two loads of his own cum. Jake had fucked one right out of him and the second was courtesy Jake's masterful manipulation of the dildo. It was like he'd lost control of his body, every languid rise and fall of his chest, arch of his back and curl of his toes instinctual. "Jake," he groaned, silenced by Jake's lips on his. Jake was completely gone, lost in his limitless exploration of Chris' boundaries. One hand still pushing and pulling at the dildo, alternating between long hard thrusts in and out and specific stabs at spots he knew would send Chris crashing into walls of sensation. He bit at Chris' shoulder, at his ear as he slid down Chris' chest, Chris' one hand gripping the sheets with white knuckles, the other pushing the hair off his forehead before gripping the slick strands in his own fingers. He wasn't sure he could take much more, but that didn't seem to concern Jake at all as he lapped at some of the cum that remained on his chest. Lower and lower, Jake playfully licked at his cock for what felt like nothing more than a fleeting moment before his tongue was at Chris' hole. The dildo was only halfway in, blissfully sending jolts up his back as the blunt head seemed to rock right up against his prostate. Jake's tongue was right there with it, teasing the ring of muscle. "Fuck," they said in unison as Chris' body went rigid, followed by another sound that bordered the line between scream and groan as Jake pulled the dildo out entirely, Chris nearly jumping off the bed at the onslaught. Jake didn't see any cum shoot from Chris' cock, but he was more concerned with pulling Chris' body to the edge of the bed, one leg thrown over his shoulder as the other wrapped around his waist, his hard cock, dripping with pre-cum by now, sliding right into the clutching channel. Chris' mouth opened in silent exaltation, his back arching again as his toes curled, Jake bending him in half as their lips crashed together, the strokes slow and fluid, the initial rush long over. Chris' fingers grabbed at Jake's hair, his tongue struggling against Jake's as they kissed. Jake was delirious with pleasure, a string of grunts and moans filling the room as he thrust again and again. Pushing himself up, he grabbed Chris' leg and froze, his cock sheathed fully. Tiny thrusts, barely moving at all, he let Chris' channel work his length, felt Chris squeezing him tight, his every muscle contracting. "Jake, just do it," Chris groaned, his hand scrambling for the dildo. He knew Jake had thought about it, even before this weekend of hedonism. Jake shook his head, pulling his cock out and slamming back in. Leaning down one more time, his eyes locked with Chris' as their foreheads came together, "Do it." "You're sure?" Jake asked, voice breathy. "Come on," Chris said, eyes squeezing shut, clenching his muscles tight again. Jake only groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he yanked his cock out. Chris watched his chest heave, his arm flexing as he reached for the dildo, their lips coming together one more time before Jake pulled away to lube it up. Chris wanted to just grab it and stick it in--he knew his own body. He was stretched out enough, but Jake had already smeared some lube on it before Chris could even react. His world was in slow motion whereas Jake seemed to feel everything in overdrive. Jake lifted Chris' leg and slid it in. He groaned at how smoothly it just slid in. He leaned forward and Chris fists balled in the sheets. "Do it," Chris groaned, voice pleading. Jake bit his lip and pulled the dildo out halfway. He slid the head of his cock in beside it and Chris' body just froze. Jake watched for any reaction, but other than that same arch of the back, that same long exhale, Chris looked achingly eager for this. Another minute thrust as he had half of his cock in beside the dildo. Chris was reeling, his muscles stretched further than he'd ever experienced, his whole body resonating with waves of sensation. Jake could almost taste the raw sexuality that was coming off the both of them. He took a deep breath and slid the dildo in to the hilt, his cock mimicking the motion, Chris' ass stretching open, a deep groan coming from his throat. His leg wrapped around Jake's waist and Jake rested his forehead on Chris' shoulder. His breaths came too fast, his head swimming in sex. His hand worked the dildo in and out, his cock still, the plastic sliding against his shaft. "Jake," Chris pleaded, "you've got to...oh God." Jake pulled out slightly and Chris felt like his insides were being pulled out with it, but as soon as Jake pushed back in, he was right back there, right back where he couldn't remember his name, couldn't even form words as Jake fucked him. Alternating between the dildo and his own aching cock, Jake was barreling towards orgasm, his movements losing any semblance of control, his body completely overriding his brain, every push and pull, every hard thrust of the hip, jerk of the hand working to bring him to orgasm one more time. "Shit," Chris yelled, his back arching up, the head of the dildo pressing right onto his prostate as he shot, dribbles of cum smearing between their heaving bodies as Jake groaned too, his cock moving against the stationary dildo, jerky, stunted thrusts as his jaw tightened and he shot too, ribbons of cum spooling out into Chris' hole. He collapsed forward, both their bodies overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of what had taken place. Gasping for air, Chris stared up at the ceiling, motionless until Jake slowly slid the dildo out, reluctant to do the same with his cock. "Don't," Chris pleaded, mustering the strength to keep Jake inside of him. "Goddamn, Chris," Jake groaned, his hands running up Chris' sides, following the lines of his arms to tangle their fingers together. His cock slipped out and Chris gasped, body jerking one last time. Jake rested his head on Chris' shoulder; his breathing still heavy as he blinked quickly, what had transpired still seemed unreal. But he could feel Chris under him, felt the satisfying fatigue in every muscle. It was definitely real. *** "Are you ok?" Jake asked, his hand on the small of Chris' back. "I'm fine," Chris said, eyebrows furrowing, "why?" "You're walking funny." Chris stopped, "You've got to be kidding me," he said, genuine disbelief on his face. Jake nodded, biting his lip to keep from laughing. It was minute at most, but he was always staring at Chris' ass, so even the tiniest variation was obvious. "You're good, but you're not that good." "Yeah?" Jake asked, eyebrow raised, "I think I have a vague recollection of someone," his voice getting suddenly quiet, "shooting all over themselves just a few hours ago. Someone cumming without even touching his dick." "Now's not the time to get a big head," Chris said, smiling at the maitre d'. "Two. Reservations under Gyllenhaal." She fiddled with the computer before smiling back up at the two of them, Jake grinning from ear to ear, "Right this way." "I'll show you how good I can be," Jake said as they walked to the table. His had pushed slightly on the small of Chris' back before it slipped down and gripped his ass for a split second. Chris jumped a little, his steps faltering as they reached the table. "You better," Chris said, unbuttoning his jacket before sitting down. The dim candlelight flickered between them, sparkling in Chris' eyes as Jake looked across the table. "Thanks for this little getaway," Jake said softly. Chris only smiled back, Jake looked so sexy with his shirt unbuttoned, a glimpse of chest hair showing, the scruff on his face trimmed and tidy, he just looked completely relaxed. Chris did his job right. Two glasses of wine came to the table immediately, with tiny cups of warm broth, "To prepare the palate," the server said. He recited the night's menu, Jake listening with rapt attention as Chris' eyes scanned the room. It was small and cozy, ridiculously hard to get into because of the chef's reputation, but that was one problem he found was less and less problematic. He didn't like to brag about it, but there wasn't a restaurant he couldn't get intoŃ and if he was with Jake, it was that much easier. Most celebrities got photographed coming out of nightclubs and bars, he and Jake were more often seen coming out of restaurants. "This place is great," Jake said, settling in his chair. Chris didn't know if his palate needed preparing, but he sipped at what he assumed was an appetizer, "I thought you'd like it." "I can't wait to see what else you think I'd like," Jake said, "you've been right on all counts so far." Pushing his wine over to Jake's side of the table, Chris felt his himself swell with pride. It was like the whole restaurant was melting away and the only thing that mattered was Jake and what they had together. There was nothing else that even registered; they were so far removed from everything that normally swarmed around them--work, friends, the obligations, and worries. They hadn't been this carefree since their honeymoon. The courses came and went, their bellies full. "Slow down," Chris said as Jake pulled him along, the desert air dry and cool as they walked the grounds. "That was the greatest food I've ever eaten," Jake said, pulling Chris tight to him. Chris leaned in for a quick kiss. "I don't want to go home," Chris said, "let's stay here forever." Jake kissed him one more time, "I wish." Chris pulled Jake into the direction of their room, but Jake resisted, pulling back, "It's nice out here, come on." It was dark already, the path dotted with pools of light here and there, the sky above them flooded with tiny twinkling stars. "You don't know where we're going," Chris said, following reluctantly. "Who cares?" Jake asked, "I just want to be with you." Jake pulled him close again, they were somewhere Chris probably would have recognized had it been light out, the hotel complex wasn't that big. Jake kissed him, hands on Chris' back. "You look good tonight," Jake whispered. "You too," Chris said, hands running over Jake's chest. His shirt was thin, material smooth under his fingers, and Chris kissed that patch of chest that had been tempting him all night. Jake pulled him up for a kiss, soft and tender. "I want to make you cum," Jake whispered. A jolt ran through Chris' body, his cock instantly rock-hard. Chris groaned, Jake's arms suddenly pulling him into a tight embrace. Jake's tongue was in his mouth this time as he pulled Chris' jacket off his shoulders, essentially locking his arms to the sides of his body. Jake kissed down his jaw, pulling the knot of his tie down to nip at his neck. "Jake," Chris groaned. He glanced around. It was so dark that all he was certain nobody would see them, Jake had managed to get them far away from just about anything. "Don't worry," Jake assured him. Chris threw his head back as Jake's fingers worked his pants open. His hand was on Chris' cock a second later, stroking the length as Chris' groans got lost in the darkness. Jake's tongue was on his cock, licking at the tip, fingers ticking Chris' balls. Chris grunted, grabbing Jake's hair as he took his shaft in his mouth. He looked down and could barely make out the outline of Jake's body. He could definitely feel him though, the warmth of his mouth and the slickness of his tongue. Grunting, Chris thrust softly, but he knew from Jake's almost rushed movements that Jake wasn't intending to draw this out. Chris gripped Jake's head and started thrusting, jaw tight as Jake worked his throat open. Chills shot up Chris' spine as he rushed headlong into orgasm, Jake almost shocked by how suddenly it came. Chris grunted and shot, bucking over as he held Jake's head still, his eyes wide. "Whoa there," Jake said after he pulled off. He swallowed what little cum remained in his mouth, "short trigger tonight." "You got me too worked up," Chris said, breathing heavily, "Jesus." Chris zipped himself up and pulled Jake up, kissing him again. "Now how the hell do we get back to our room?" Jake asked. *** The rest of the weekend was a blur, nothing but room service carts piling up in hallway outside their room and the "do not disturb" sign hanging off of their doorknob. The world ended at the walls of their suite, nothing mattered but their long limbs and languid bodies. When their house was in sight, that familiar smell of the ocean filling the car when Chris rolled his window down, his fingers waving in the currents of air. "Home sweet home," Jake said, stretching his arms over his head. He yawned, groaning as his body worked out its kinks, the drive stiffening his joints and muscles. "We have to get the dogs." "I'll ask Topher to bring them over," Chris said, echoing Jake's yawn, "I'm sure he'll be okay with it." Jake only nodded, already pulling their luggage out of the trunk. He trotted back to the house as Chris went around the back to the beach, eager to get the feeling of sand on his feet again. He sat on the steps of the deck, his toes digging a few inches into the warm sand, his eyes locked on the waves as they rolled up onto the sand, the calming sound of the water mixing with the faint squawk of gulls somewhere. It was the usual soundtrack. He heard Jake come down the stairs, the squeak of the worn wood familiar. "Home sweet home is right," Chris said, resting his head on Jake's shoulder. --- Feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com