Date: Tue, 20 Nov 2007 21:59:20 -0800 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 42 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. AOL Instant Messenger: babyofthe1980s. I'm on both all the time, don't be afraid to drop me a quick message. Part LII "Come back to bed," Jake groaned, throwing the thin sheet over his naked body. He reached blindly for the comforter, but knew that it was probably somewhere on the floor by now. The bright sunlight had woken them both up too early, but Chris had taken advantage of it, his hands and lips knowing exactly what to do to life the veil of sleep from Jake's brain and get the blood flowing right down to his cock. "Where are you?" "Out here," Chris said, eyes still locked on the screen of his laptop. He finished one last thought, fingers flying over the keys before he looked over at Jake. He was sprawled out over the bed and Chris was writing. He was typing on his computer, Jake was naked on the bed, he thought that maybe things were almost too perfect. "Didn't I wear you out?" "It's almost noon," Chris said, grinning, "you just took an extra long nap." "Are you still naked? I'm still naked," Jake said groggily, hand running down his chest to his stomach. "I'm not naked anymore," Chris said, shutting his computer. He set it down on the worn wood table they kept out on the balcony before heading back towards the bed, "But I can be." He slid his thin robe off and did the same to his boxers before sliding onto Jake's body, his lips kissing up Jake's chest. "I like when you're naked," Jake said, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him up to place a soft kiss on his lips. "You're not so bad either," Chris whispered, fingers tracing the contours of Jake's stomach, loving the way the muscles flexed with every movement of their bodies, "Hey, we have stuff to do today," he whispered. "What?" Jake asked, more intent on the current situation than the day's agenda. Jake's hand slid down to cup Chris' ass, pulling a low groan from his lips, "Fine, maybe that's a better idea." Chris' lips crashed into Jake's, a soft groan coming from his throat as Jake rolled them over, lips strong against his, the weight of his body familiar. The hair on Jake's chest and stomach tickled his skin, Jake's hand sliding up and down his sides, their erections pressing into one another as Jake's tongue darted into Chris' mouth. "Check that off the list," Jake whispered, kissing down Chris' neck, "what's next?" Chris groaned, Jake's tongue flicking across his nipple, "That's a good idea," Chris groaned, voice shaky, "right there." His fingers tangled in Jake's thick hair as he sucked on his nipple, Jake's hands holding him steady. Jake kissed down Chris' stomach, licking one long slow trail down to his belly button. He felt Chris shudder, a gush of pre-cum slicking his length as his body broke out in a sheen of sweat. "Check," Jake said softly. Jake raised Chris' leg up onto his shoulder, tongue lapping at his balls, Chris grunted, "You skipped something." Snickering, Jake licked a trail up Chris' length, savoring the sweet stickiness of Chris' pre- cum. "Better?" "Fuck yeah," Chris groaned. Jake's scratchy chin was on his balls as his tongue circled the head, his fingers at Chris' perineum, stroking and pressing incessantly as Chris writhed above him. Chris spread his legs wider, biting his lower lip as Jake took his length into his mouth, his cock sliding into the slick confines of Jake's mouth. Chris' body stiffened and his hips rose off the sheets, breath catching and eyes slamming shut. "Oh fuck," Chris grunted as Jake's finger circled his hole, "shit shit shit..." Jake sucked hard, his free hand working Chris' balls, he looked up to see Chris' heaving chest, his shoulders and arms tense as he wrung the bedclothes, neck flexed and face painted in exquisite sensation. Jake pulled off, catching his breath as he stroked Chris' length, watching Chris shudder as he kissed him one more time, Chris' hands gripping his shoulders, mouth desperate as his toes curled. Pushing Chris down over onto his side, Jake nipped at his ear, "Check and check," he whispered, breath sliding across Chris' ear, a tingle burning through his body, "just one more thing to do." "Do it," Chris groaned, reaching blindly for Jake's cock. Raising Chris' leg, Jake scooted closer, one hand gripping Chris' shoulder as the other slid to his lip, Jake pressed the head of his dripping cock into Chris' hole, both gasping in unison as he slid in, pausing as the tight ring of muscle pressed tight around the head of Jake's cock. Jake shuddered, biting into Chris' shoulder. He grunted and slid the rest in, holding Chris' body tight against his own. "Check," Jake groaned, "fucking check." Chris grabbed the sheets and moved his hips, Jake's eyes rolling back as he held Chris' hips tight and slammed forward into the clutching channel. In and out, he railed hard and quick, every thrust punctuated with a low grunt, their bodies slammed together with wet smacks, Jake groaning right into Chris' ear, both of their bodies quaking with the onslaught of tingles and sensation. Chris gripped Jake's arm and clenched down on Jake's cock, his muscles tight and controlled. Jake groaned, pulling their bodies up, arranging Chris on his hands and knees as his cock slid in fast, every inch stretching Chris open as Jake held onto his shoulder, free hand grabbing Chris' hair and pushing his head down, ass coming up higher, the muscles in Chris' back tight and flexed. Chris' groans were muffled by the pillows, but Jake could hear him grunting, his eyes locked on where their bodies came together, where cock slid into ass, where Chris stopped and Jake started. It was starting to blur as he slammed in with all his strength, his shoulders tense and his jaw tight as he tried to hold it in, reign in his own body as he rushed to orgasm. "Jake," Chris groaned, "fucking give it to me." Groaning loudly, Jake paused to catch his breath, fingers gripping Chris' shoulder even tighter. "Give it to you?" Jake asked, voice gravelly, "can you fucking take it?" Before he could answer, he felt Jake push into him again so hard and quick that he didn't even have time to react, his body practically slamming into the headboard. He gripped the top of it tight, Jake's lips on the back of his neck as he whimpered, Jake completely overcome with his impending orgasm. Chris' ass was so hot and tight, the sounds he made so sexy that Jake could practically feel his balls churning with cum. Chris reached down to stroke his cock, holding steady with his free hand as Jake kept slamming into him, groans dry and hoarse. A long groan fell from Chris' lips as Jake gripped his hips, fingers leaving red marks in their wake, Chris' cock shooting thick strings of cum onto the bleached wood of their headboard. Grunting, Jake struggled to keep his eyes open to watch the streams spurt out of Chris' turgid dick. Jake pulled their bodies back, grunting as he gripped his fingers in Chris' hair one more time, pushing him down to his mess. Groaning, Chris licked up the hot cum, a soft whimper welling up in his throat as Jake slammed harder and harder. "Fuck, Chris," Jake said, pushing the sweaty strands of hair off his forehead, "I'm so fucking close." Chris was licking up the evidence of his own orgasm, but stopped when he felt Jake's thrusts grow erratic and stunted, Jake's body chest falling onto his back as he felt his ass fill with searing hot cum, Jake's choked grunts mixing with his own. "Flip over," Jake ordered. Chris was delirious, head spinning as he lay down, Jake grabbing the back of Chris' knees to spread his legs apart. A second later, Jake's tongue was swirling around his hole and he felt his back arch, hands scrambling to steady his body again. Jake's tongue darted in and out of his hole, Chris' body shaking and his erection slicking with another round of pre-cum. Jake slid two fingers into his stretched hole and he grunted, body jerking. "Cum for me," Jake whispered, "just one more." Chris nodded feverishly, hand deftly stroking his cock as Jake grunted in approval, diving back down into Chris' hole. Jake slid his fingers in and out, knowing exactly where to press to give Chris a shock, where to crook his finger, just how fast or slow Chris liked it. Tongue darting in to join his fingers, Jake felt Chris speed up, orgasm slamming into him as another barrage of cum splashed across his quivering stomach. Jake was immediately up, tonguing the sticky load as Chris caught his breath, body still racked with the aftershocks of his sudden orgasm. "Oh fuck," Chris groaned, feeling Jake gather him up in his arms, their bodies coming together in a familiar configuration of limbs. "That's the whole list," Jake whispered, nose in Chris' sweaty hair. "With extra," Chris groaned, his hand running over Jake's hairy thigh. He kissed the depression between Jake's collarbones, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, "Fuck that was good." Jake beamed, arms wrapping around Chris tighter. He let out a long satisfied sigh and settled into the contours of Jake's body. They might not have been the most productive way to start the day, but neither would complain. A few hours later, Chris opened the back door and the dogs rushed out, barking happily as he leaned against the glass. His eyes scanned the house and he realized that it looked like a tornado of magazines, drafts, and books had torn through. He sighed, heard Jake plodding around upstairs before eyeing a padded envelope on the counter. He sidled over to the kitchen and started the coffee maker; a tinge of embarrassment hitting him as he realized it was well past two in the afternoon. The workweek was ridiculously busy, but weekends spoiled them, sleeping past noon, staying in their pajamas all day, lazing around on the couch. "Kurt Landis," Chris wondered aloud. It wasn't addressed to him or Jake. It just said "Lewis- Gyllenhaal," which technically, he thought, could be either of them. There was an obvious leaning one way to him, but he didn't know Kurt that well, there was no reason for anything to be sent completely unsolicited. It wasn't a card--it wasn't the right size. It wasn't paperwork or anything; he couldn't imagine what it was. Picking up some of the magazines, a dozen copies of GQ, Esquire, Vogue, and others, it was a mess. He'd have to file his scribbles and papers, get these magazines up into his office, he rolled his eyes just thinking about it. The two of them had enough junk for a small landfill. Chris heard Jake plod down the stairs, talking softly on the phone. "It's for you," Jake said, handing Chris his phone. It was so banged up that he was surprised it even worked. Phones had a way of getting scratched and scuffed when they were dropped as often as Chris did it. Balancing cups of coffee, magazines, and his jackets was hard enough without constantly being attached to his phone, Jake always on the other end. "Hello?" "I'm sending someone over," he heard Celeste say. "Okay," Chris said, shrugging. She did it all the time, messengers, packages, things like that. "His name is Wes. Wesley, actually. I've been interviewing all week. You signed the new contract and you got a personal assistant. You're in the big leagues now." "Wait, what?" Chris interrupted, "I don't need one." "He's part-time, don't worry." "I only asked you to pick up my dry cleaning once," Chris said, "we were stuck in traffic." "You'll like him." "I have Jake, he's like my personal assistant," Chris said, "and it's Saturday. You're setting a bad precedent for him. Tell him to come Monday...or I'll tell you when I need him." He was fumbling with his words. He was the last person on earth who needed someone following him around. "He's already on his way," Celeste said, "give him an hour or so, he's driving from the Valley." "The Valley? Tell him to turn around," Chris said, watching as Jake calmly poured two mugs of coffee, "the house is a mess and he'll have to sit through an hour of traffic." "That's what he's for," Celeste said. "He's an assistant, not a maid, right?" "He will do whatever you think he should do. It's up to you to show him what you want to show him." "I want to show him that I don't need an assistant." "Then he'll be so bored he quits," Celeste said, "but I interviewed him. You'll like him." *** "So this is my office," Chris said, opening the door. "It's so...neat," Wes said, eyes wide, "are those magazines all in order and everything?" "Chronological," Chris said, practically beaming. He had rushed through the house, chugging coffee and cleaning up, organizing with the fervor of an obsessive conpulsive. This was probably the first time since he and Jake moved into this house that everything was in its place. It was almost bizarre. "When I interviewed, she..." "Celeste." "She--Celeste--said your house was a dump," Wes said, "not literally a dump, I mean you live in Malibu, but she said it was...messy." He paused. "Jake and I are pretty messy. We're slobs, to tell you the truth. This is a rare occurrence. Usually I have to wade through notes and papers and I have a million thank you cards to send out to people who send me and Jake things." "So you and Jake are..." "You saw the pictures downstairs, Wes. You're not twelve. We're together." "I thought so." Chris didn't feel the need to explain any further. The black and white picture on the entry table was from their wedding, and there were a few others sprinkled through the house here and there, not many, but they were around. Chris' favorite was still on his desk, though, that picture of them on the snowy stoop, wearing both goofy grins and warm winter clothes. He'd managed to get that off his computer. It was a reminder of his shack back in Santa Barbara. "Everyone does. It's not a big deal," Chris said. "Where is he?" "Grocery shopping," Chris said, glancing at his watch, "you'll know when he's home. He's tall, brown hair and blue eyes." "I know what he looks like. And I can do that grocery stuff for you," Wes said, pulling his notepad out, "if you need. You guys go to Whole Foods, right? I've seen pictures." "You don't need to be taking notes. You don't need to get our groceries, really. We can do that. I want you to be like a friend and not someone working for me. I don't think we're that different. You're a writer, right?" "Yes and no," Wes said, "I'm trying. PR or writing. I'm not sure yet." "Okay," Chris said, "first thing is...Topher Grace and Jonas Armstrong, you might know what the look like, they're really good friends of ours, they're in and out all the time. Don't worry about them, they might give you a hard time, but they're good guys. The dogs know what to do, so don't mind them. You can...I don't actually know." Wes shrugged, "You're a lot cooler than I thought you'd be." Chris nodded, somehow validated by someone thinking he was "cool," even if they were barely out of college. "I'll figure out something for you to do...eventually. I guess you could just make sure I pay my bills on time or something." "Sounds great." "It does?" Wes shrugged, "It's better than nothing." "Make sure you call Celeste and get her to pay you for the gas you use getting out here. Work the system." "Will do." They both turned as the sound of the dogs barking excitedly filled the house. "I should get you a key even though we don't lock the door," Chris said, "and phone numbers and stuff." "Celeste wanted me to give you this," Wes said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a shiny new cell phone. "Nice, just when I was starting to get used to the one I have," Chris said. "I programmed your whole Rolodex into it," Wes said, "Celeste had all your numbers on her computer." "I have a Rolodex? You get a gold star today," Chris said, smiling. They walked down the stairs and saw Jake come in, canvas grocery bags in each hand. The dogs were scuttling around his feet. "Hey," Chris said, leaning in to kiss Jake's cheek. "Look who's here," he said, "assistant number two." "Wesley McGee," he said, confused before offering his hand. Jake's eyes scanned him from head to toe. Dirty blond hair, warm eyes, he looked exactly like someone just out of college, floundering to find himself. He was wearing a white button up and pressed khakis, both obviously new. He didn't seem comfortable, but it evident he'd made an effort. "Jake Gyllenhaal," the handshake was firm, tight, "assistant number one. Dress code here is casual, just so you know." Chris and Jake put the groceries away, Wes still staying off to the sidelines, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching how easy and comfortable they were, seeing how well they fit together. Everything was in its place, Chris and Jake in their house, the dogs lazing in the living room, and Wes feeling completely out of place--the new intruder. "Are you just Chris' or can I leech off the privileges too?" Jake asked. "I'm at your service," Wes said, straightening himself. "He's a keeper," Jake joked, "how about you take the rest of the day off?" "Really?" "I have your number," Chris said, "I'll call you if I need anything." "Speed-dial number two," he said, "I figured you'd want Jake to be number one." "Good man," Jake said, "see you soon." He waved and ducked his head back into the pantry. "I'll see you guys," Wes said, "it was great meeting you both." "Take it easy," Chris said, "I'll call." *** Jake flipped the pan with an expert wrist, the muscles in his arm and shoulder flexing under his apron, his jeans falling down a fraction lower on his waist as he set the pan down and threw in a handful of diced tomatoes, a wet sizzle filling the kitchen with the warm smell of hominess. Chris walked over and glanced over Jake's shoulder, "This is new," he said, examining the contents of the pan. "Just threw it together," Jake said, reaching for a glass of wine. He took a long sip of it before pouring some into the pan. Another toss and he stepped back to admire his work so far. "Do you need me to do anything?" Chris asked. "You want to be my sous chef?" Jake asked, grinning, "What do I need...I need you to kiss me real quick." Chris leaned over, hand running over Jake's cheek before it went down to the apron, feeling firm muscle under his fingers as he leaned in, the tiniest bitterness on Jake's lips from the wine. Jake's arm wrapped around his waist. "How was that?" Chris asked, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen. He wasn't sure why Jake wasn't wearing a shirt, but he wasn't about to complain about it, the apron seemed superfluous, but the thatch of chest hair that peeked over its bib made Chris' breathing catch and his blood rush down south. "Hit the spot," Jake said, turning back around on his heels to tend to his meal again. "Should I set the table or anything?" "Call the guys over," Jake said without turning around, "there's plenty." "Won't it get cold?" "We have a microwave." "What?" "That magic box that makes popcorn," Jake said, "it does other things." "They've been sort of weird," Chris said, rolling his eyes as he reached for his phone, "apart they're fine, but Topher's sort of antsy when Jonas is here. I think the flirting is getting to him." "He'll never stop flirting," Jake said, bending over a little as he turned the heat down, eyes intense as he looked at the flames, "he'll flirt with anything on two legs. And even that goes out the window when he's drunk." Chris stepped out onto the deck, Jake watching him through the kitchen window. He somehow managed to get a roughly normal schedule this shoot and it was rare that he even missed dinner at home. He never thought it would work out so well and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. Life had somehow settled into smooth progression of days, especially since Kurt had disappeared and Chris was taking a break from writing. His assistant, Jake thought, was harmless, if anything, Chris was treating him more like an apprentice than an assistant. Jake knew he felt uncomfortable in situations of authority. Chris was uncomfortable anywhere when someone looked up to him for anything other than a casual conversation and even then he was nervous at first. "Topher was already on his way," Chris said, hopping up onto the counter, his legs dangling above the floor, "and Jonas is coming. He said he's brining some wood for that fireplace we never use." "I don't want to burn the house down," Jake said, "it's the last thing we need." Jake leaned in for one more kiss, reaching between Chris' legs for a pot, "Can we have the pasta that's shaped like bow ties?" Chuckling, Jake set the pot on the stove, "Come here," Chris said, "give me one more." "Just one?" Jake asked, a tiny shudder flashing across his collarbones as Chris' fingers tickled his skin, "maybe I can go back for seconds?" "Depends on how it goes the first time around," Chris said. "I've never gotten any complaints," Jake whispered, leaning in closer. Chris' legs wrapped around his waist, their lips came together and Jake's tongue slipped between Chris' teeth, his hands sliding up Chris' back under his shirt. Their bodies pressed together and Chris untied Jake's apron, lips coming apart as he yanked the apron up over Jake's head. "I should put a shirt on," Jake whispered, "the guys probably don't need to see." "They've seen," Chris said softly, fingers tracing the dips and valleys of his chest. Chris loved that this was them off-duty, just living like everyone else, and it was definitely something that he could get used to. Since the move to LA, both of them seemed to have been smothered by the industry, but knowing that there was home to escape to, where neither of them talked about work for more than twenty minutes, they managed to survive. "I went running today," Chris said, resting his forehead on Jake's shoulder, "I hurt all over." "I can take care of that later, yeah?" Jake said, kissing him softly, "let's get this show going." *** "Sorry I'm late," Chris said, "I don't usually drive through the city that way." "What do you mean?" "I don't even usually drive, but I was coming from down near...downtown, coming north. Usually, you know, home's...north and I go south to get to Beverly Hills." Kurt nodded, setting his menu down on the table, Chris motioned for a glass of water and picked his own menu up, sliding his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, "I sent you guys something," he said, voice even and cool. "Oh yeah," Chris said, eyes still scanning up and down, left and right, "I didn't know if it was for me or Jake, we still have it." "It's for you," Kurt said. Chris finally looked up from the menu, "Thanks," he said, "that's really nice. What is it? Is it important?" "No," he said simply, "nothing like that. Just something I thought you'd like," he paused, scanning Chris quickly, "it looks like rain." "You sent me something that looks like rain?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowing. "No, right now, it's gray." "Oh, yeah," Chris said, looking around, "I guess the sunglasses are just a prop now." "What were you doing downtown?" "Talking to the people at Random. I had to give them a review of my assistant and just get my calendar and things," Chris said, "are you ready?" "Ready for what?" "To order," Chris said, setting his menu down before craning his neck to look for a waiter, "when Jake and I come we always get these lettuce wrap things." "I'm going to have a burger, I think," Kurt said, "but you can go ahead." "It's an appetizer, we'll share," Chris said. His cell phone rang, "Hold on." "Is it Jake?" Kurt asked, rolling his eyes. He remembered waiting for a phone call every day after class, rushing home to his shitty dorm and waiting for Jake to call. It was ridiculous, how one-sided it seemed. He knew Jake wasn't doing the same thing, taking the time to chat with his buddies after class, walking leisurely back to his studio, stopping for coffee and magazines as Kurt started at his phone, hoping against hope that Jake would call. "My assistant. He's picking up my usual magazine round up. Normal stuff, you know: GQ, Vanity Fair, Esquire, New Yorker," he paused, chuckling a little, "Vogue and People. You never told me if ever had anything published before the paper." "No, just the paper," Kurt said, settling back in his chair a little, "it's not easy." They ordered and the food came, Chris finally settling into his seat to listen about Kurt's life back at school, how he'd fallen head over heels over some guy, how the guy dropped out, and how Kurt scrambled to pick up the pieces. "I didn't know what I wanted to do, I sort of just...was." "You're fine now," Chris said, "look at you." "Look at me," Kurt said, sitting up straight, "an unemployed, single, floundering writer. It doesn't get much better." "Then I'll get the check," Chris said, "no arguing. I'll call Random and I'll pass your manuscript along to my editor maybe? I'm sure she can find something. You know how it is, you just have to fall in right at the right time." "I guess you did." "I did. All by myself. Too bad that asshole's family didn't help you out. But people are weird about family. I'm one of them." "Is that why I haven't met them? Do they live across the country or something?" "I didn't get one until I...was sort of dropped into Jake's." "And that's the right family to fall into," Kurt said, body tensing, "seriously, no wonder...movies and books and...wow." "No, they didn't," Chris said, his forehead filling with grooves, "they help after the fact, like I'll ask Jake's mom--Naomi--to look at things, but I don't ever...and his dad I mean, he's great. I love him, but I'd never ask him to...movie anything, it's just..." "Things just fall into your lap?" Kurt asked. "No," Chris said, "not at all. I worked really hard." "I work really hard," Kurt said, "but I got a staff writing job for the Times. I didn't get a six- figure book deal." "I know I'm lucky," Chris said, pushing his plate away, "found work and found Jake." "Found it all," Kurt said, jaw tight. *** "Thanks for getting the magazines," Chris said, trying not to drop his new phone as he held it between his ear and his shoulder, "I told Celeste you were doing a great job. Thanks for everything." He fished in his pocket for the list Jake had made for him as he listened to Wesley's apprehension. 'Wine,' it said simply. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed a bottle of red wine that looked familiar, putting it back upon second glance. He picked up the bottle next to it and nodded, hanging up the phone. He'd done it a million times, was sure he'd do it another million times, but he was never sure exactly which one. "Are you done yet?" Jonas asked, popping cheese into his mouth from his open palm. "Hey, you know which one we always have at the house, right?" "Pop it open, I don't know what it looks like; I know what it tastes like." Chris rolled his eyes, picking up a different bottle. The easiest thing would be to call Jake, but he was sure that Jake would be in a reading or on set. "What would you say if I told you that Topher and I are having sex?" A loud crash filled the store and Chris felt wine soaking through his new pair of Nike sneakers. He was grateful it was a bottle of white and not red. "Are you kidding me?" "What, only you and Jake can fuck?" Chris' eyes shot around the shop, "He's seeing someone," he paused, "isn't he?" One of the salespeople came over, mop in hand as he tried to sop up the wine. Chris apologized profusely, "I'll pay for it," he said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, "it's fine." "It's alright," the clerk said back, "it happens all the time." "No, it's fine, it was my fault." "Christopher, let the man do his job," Jonas said, pulling him away, "did you get what you needed?" "Got more than what I needed," Chris said, "are you serious? You and Topher? Who, I mean...how...Jesus. I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me to buy a shower curtain, but I feel like I need coffee and a cigarette." "It's no big deal," Jonas said, "just buggering." "Does he know that?" Chris asked, "because not everyone's like you. Some of have sex for other reasons." "We don't talk much about it," Jonas said, "we skip that bit." Chris let the idea settle in his head, trying his best not to actually picture the act, "Okay." "Are you alright? You're..." "I'm fine," Chris interrupted, "I just need to get cleaned up." "You're not fine," Jonas said. Chris paid for the wine he broke, got two other bottles for good measure and ushered Jonas outside, apologizing profusely to both the cashier and the clerk who had to clean up after his clumsiness, "It's just unexpected," he said, walking with Jonas towards the car, "you're big boys, I'm sure you'll be fine." They loaded the car, "Jonas, isn't he seeing someone?" "They're not serious," he said, "at least not from what I see." "Jonas," Chris grabbed his wrist, "you're the other guy. You're going to be the one that breaks them up." "He's asking for it," Jonas said quickly, "not literally, but it takes two people." "It takes two people," Chris repeated, nodding. *** Jake reached up behind him, putting the cold bowl on the side table behind him, "I ate too much," he groaned, stretching a little. Chris let out a little giggle and rubbed his stomach, scooting their bodies closer together as he ran slow circles on Jake's warm skin, "Mint chocolate chip," he whispered, kissing Jake's ear, "you can't ever pass up dessert." "That feels good," Jake groaned, his hand on top of Chris'. Chris kicked the empty pizza box off of the bed, snuggling closer to Jake. "You're so warm," he whispered. "Hey, did you open that package that came?" Chris asked, "Envelope, I mean. It was padded." "The one from Kurt?" Jake asked. Chris nodded, foot running up Jake's leg. "Threw it out, it was..." he struggled to think of something, "just a card." "What did it say?" Jake tensed. It was the picture, the same one he'd flipped over back at Kurt's place. He felt his blood rush through his body as soon as he opened it and he instinctively ripped it up, the satisfying sound of shredding paper the only thing that calmed him down. It was childish at best, on both of their parts. It took every ounce of willpower for Jake not to call Kurt and yell, to drive over and punch him in the face, but he managed. He wasn't going to let Kurt get to him. He'd take the high road if Kurt was going to resort to this sort of passive-aggressive behavior. Chris' lips grazed his jaw, "It's too early for your birthday..." he whispered, "it's not Christmas..." "It was a thank you card," Jake lied. "For lunch?" Chris asked, "That was nice of him." "Yeah," Jake said, shaking his head, "he's great. Fantastic." Chris kissed Jake softly, moving his body up on top of Jake's, feeling the downy hairs of his chest against his own, fingers brushing up Jake's sides before gripping his shoulders, " "That's great," Jake whispered, "fantastic." "It's my thank you card to you," Chris said softly, "for the pizza party in bed." They had hardly left the bed all day, drifting in and out of sleep, lazily stretching in bed as they shared soft kisses and Chris smoothed back Jake's hair, their legs sliding against each other, bodies trying to get as much contact as possible. "I had a great day," Jake said, hands slipping down to Chris' waist, "we should do this more." "Do what?" "Nothing." Chris smiled, kissing Jake one more time; this time Jake's hand was on the back of his head, tongue slipping into Chris' mouth as their bodies moved together. "I could do this all day," Jake said, flipping them over, "and night." His fingers dipped into Chris' underwear and Chris gripped his shoulder tight, he didn't know if they could do it all day and all night, but he was willing to try. Chris' head turned slowly, his eyes still blurry with sleep, "What's that noise?" he asked, untangling his legs from Jake's. The digital glow of the clock was harsh on his eyes, they'd only been asleep for a few hours. "It's the dog," Jake groaned, pulling Chris back into him, "it's cold. Come here." "The dogs are in here," Chris said, hearing the same thump downstairs, "I'll be right back." "Baseball bat's in the walk-in," Jake said, pulling the covers tight around his body. Chris stumbled off the bed. He shook his head as he picked a t-shirt up off the floor, slipping it on as he lazily walked down the stairs. The house was dark, but the lights that dotted the shore illuminated the kitchen in an eerie blue glow. Chris rubbed his eyes when he saw the refrigerator door ajar, the light from that spilling onto the kitchen floor in pool of thick light. "Chris?" he heard, jumping back a little. The accent placed the speaker immediately, even though it was tinged with the tiniest bit of inebriation. "Jo," he said back, "what the hell are you doing here?" "We ran out of beer," he said, "didn't even get a good buzz." "You drove here?" Chris asked, "you dumbass. Who's 'we?'" "Who do you think?" he asked back, "were you asleep?" "Topher, it's two in the morning," he said, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door, "come on, call him and say that you're spending the night here. You can't drive back." "I can," he said, shutting the door of the refrigerator with a rubbery slap. "You can't," Chris shot back, "don't start." He grabbed his collar, still clumsy with weariness, pulling him upstairs and into the bathroom. He stumbled back into bed, Jake already asleep, soft even breathing lifting his chest under the sheets. Chris pulled the shirt off, tossing it onto the floor before trying his best to get back into the nook of Jake's neck. He let out a sigh and settled against Jake's body, warm and soft. He felt the bedclothes shift behind him and he shot back up, Jonas' body illuminated by the filtered light through the gauzy curtains. His body was lean, chest lightly dusted with hair, frame thin but solid; he pulled the sheets up, "Jo, come on. This isn't funny." Jake groaned and pulled Chris tight against his body, shushing him, "Listen to your man," Jonas said, sliding in under the covers. "Jonas," Chris whispered, "you can't. This is our bed." "I'm not going to shag you in your sleep, Chris," he said, taking a long breath, "your sheets smell nice." Defeated, Chris turned back around and tried ignored him, soft snores already coming from his side of the bed as Chris groaned and burrowed deeper into Jake's embrace. There was still a good buffer between their bodies and even tipsy, Jonas seemed tamer than normal, forfeiting opportunity after opportunity for a bawdy joke. Maybe being with Topher, however loose, was calming him down. Chris woke up with a shake to his shoulder, groaning even before his eyes opened, "Jake, come on. I couldn't sleep last night." "Chris," Wes said, "you need to get ready." Shooting up out of bed, Jake groaning this time, their limbs untangling, the sudden rush of cold air chilling both of their bodies. Chris looked over, Jonas' body snuggled right against his own. He groggily recalled the highlights of the previous night, the amazing sex and then the ridiculous joke rummaging through their refrigerator "Ready for what?" he asked rubbing his face. "Why is Jonas in bed with you guys?" "What?" Jake asked, head snapping to the other side of the bed, Jonas was still holding on to the last vestiges of sleep, blindly groping for the warmth of Chris' body again. "I'll explain later," Chris said, struggling to get out of bed, "what's going on." "You have a shoot today. Here. Your house is a mess." "This is what it always looks like," Jake said, surveying the bedroom. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, sneakers pushed up against the walls, the pizza box was a new addition, though. "Jesus," Chris said, too overwhelmed to even start cleaning up, "I forgot. I can't believe I forgot. It's the last one, too. Jesus Christ. Fuck!" "It's ok," Wes said, "I'll clean up. You need to shower or something." "Goddamn it. What time are they coming?" "Eleven," Wes said without even having to double check, "you've got half an hour." Chris' eyes shot to the bed, where Jake was still lazily stretching out and Jonas was comatose, he hadn't even moved through the entire situation. Chris looked like he was going to pass out, Wes took a step towards him, ready to catch him at any moment. "I hate these," Chris said, "five before this, a million before that and I still feel like I'm going to throw up every time I'm putting on three thousand dollar suits." "Good news then," Wes said. He pulled out his notebook, "No suits. It's a robe, some jeans, some polo shirts...no suits. It's spring." Chris was already on his way to the bathroom, "I owe you big, Wes. I promise, I'll write you the greatest letter of rec. for any company you want. I'll send Jake if it helps." Twenty minutes later, Chris was chewing on a bagel, everything set up in the hallway of the house--a makeup chair, lights, a little table with food--because according to something he'd signed months ago, they had run of his own house. "Is Jake still in bed, Wes?" Chris asked, "I think we're almost done. Last shoot is on the balcony." "Last shoot is this look," an assistant said, holding up a hanger with a blue bathrobe and a pair of black boxer-briefs. Chris' eyes grew wide, "I'm going to have to call someone about that," he said, stopping mid- chew, "I'm not sure readers want to see my gut." "You don't have a gut," Wes said. Chris' eyes shot to him, "Can you get me Celeste? This is the last one and all, I don't want to look like I think I'm a model. I'm a writer, remember?" Self-consciousness aside, Chris finished the shoot, whatever gut he thought he had obstructed by his laptop, a lazy smile on his face the whole time. Jake refused to get out of bed, lying there watching the chaos, coffee mug in his hands and scruff dusting his jaw. He was naked under the comforter, but he was sure only Chris knew. Jonas had taken refuge on the beach, never out of Chris' sightline from the balcony. Now that he was done, with the shoot and with the entire series. "Hey there, superstar," Jake said, "give me that robe." "I'm not taking it off until everyone's gone," Chris said, walking towards the bed. "Everyone's gone," Wes said, poking his head into the bedroom, "I'm going to call Celeste and tell her." "Thanks," Chris said, smiling, "for everything today. For cleaning up and for getting my ass in gear. If I could, I'd promote you." "Wesley," Jake said, "you are the best assistant Chris has ever had, hands down. You take the rest of the day off. Personal day." "Thank you," he said, "my girlfriend's in town. I really appreciate..." "Go," Chris insisted, smiling, "thanks again." Jake pulled Chris onto the bed, his robe falling open as he straddled Jake's hips, "I guess you get to keep this," Jake whispered, running his hands down the lapels that framed Chris' chest, "and these." His finger hooked into the waistband of the black boxer-briefs. "I guess so," Chris said, leaning down to kiss Jake, "thanks for staying. I know why you did it." "So I could watch this sexy ass is why," Jake said, hands coming around. "Yeah, yeah," Chris said, silencing him with a kiss. He shrugged the robe off his shoulders, Jake's grin fading as his eyes smoldered, hands running over Chris' shoulders, lips tracing his collarbones. Chris yanked the sheet off of Jake's body and their lips came together again, Jake's fingers insistent on his underwear, his hard cock already grinding against Chris'. The robe came off with the underwear and Chris stroked Jake's cock, a jolt searing through Jake's spine from his balls to his neck. He arched up, pulling Chris' chest tight against his as he inched backwards, back resting against the pillows and the headboard. Chris' fingers tangled in Jake's disheveled hair, a gravelly groan coming from his throat as Jake's fingers slid down the cleft of his ass, index finger spiraling around his hole. "Jake," Chris said, voice dry. Jake's lips reached for his again, muffling whatever words were coming next. Chest to chest, Chris pulled his body tighter to Jake, rising up a tiny bit, shuddering as Jake's finger breached him, another finger sliding in to join it almost right away. Chris' head fell forward, breathing already heavy as he rested his forehead on Jake's shoulder. "You're so hot," Jake whispered, eyes shut, his cock dripping already, "so fucking hot." Chris kissed him, tongue sliding against Jake's, a soft whimper escaping him as Jake's fingers slid in and out, his breath catching every time the tips of Jake's fingers crooked, every time they grazed his prostate or he felt the scissoring in his hole. Breathing already catching, dissolving into gasps and shallow breaths, Chris pulled Jake's head backwards and kissed him hard, grinding his hips. Jake pushed him up a little, cock glistening with lube and pre-cum. "Fuck, Jake," Chris groaned, "I have to...oh fuck." He didn't have to say anything, a second later Jake had everything lined up and he was sliding down, the blunt head of Jake's cock sliding into his asshole, his body shuddering as the same familiar stretch and burn sending waves through his body. He slid his arms under Jake's, hands splayed across the defined muscles of Jake's back, his legs flexing as he went down in tiny practiced motions. Jake's teeth bit into Chris' neck, suppressing a grunt as Chris' hole stretched around him and he was surrounded by the same tight heat. Both of them let out a slow breath as Chris settled into a slow languid pace, hips slowly rising up and down, Jake's hands locked on his waist as his tongue licked quick passes on his nipple. Chris was holding him tight, the smell of soap still lingering on his skin, the bed quietly squeaking as they moved together, Jake's hips rising the tiniest bit to meet each and every one of Chris' slow and deliberate descents. "So fucking good," Jake groaned, his hand sliding up Chris' sweat-slicked chest, watching with rapt attention as his hand left a wave of goose bumps and quaking muscle. Chris nodded, breath catching as Jake's fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back before leaving wet kisses across his collarbones and neck. Jake's pushed on Chris' shoulder, stalling his movements for a split second. Chris' eyes fluttered open, the light brown meeting Jake's intense blue eyes under heavy lids. He leaned down and kissed Jake again as Jake's finger trailed down the bumps of his spine, slowly and steadily, no rush or haste. Jumping a little when he felt the tip of Jake's finger at his hole, he raised up slightly on his haunches, holding steady against Jake's heaving chest, he gasped as the finger slipped inside him right alongside Jake's cock. His fingers gripped Jake's shoulders, body shuddering at the stretch. "Shhhh," Jake soothed, kissing Chris' face softly, another finger sliding in. Chris' back arched away and Jake lowered their bodies to the bed, his cock and fingers sliding in and out of Chris' clutching channel, alternating for a few strokes and then slowly coming together the next few. Jake shuddered, his entire body tingling from the tips of his ears to end of his toes. Whimpering softly, Chris' eyes shut tight, his jaw clenched as he felt the weight of Jake on top of him, their chests sliding together, Jake's brow spotted with tiny beads of sweat as he breathed heavy and hot against Chris ear. His motions were still slow and strong, steady and even as Chris' toes curled and his hands scrambled to latch onto something. Grunting, he could feel his cock, hard and leaking between their bodies, almost ready to shoot, aching for some sort of release. Chris opened his eyes to see the look of intensity on Jake's face, the tension in his neck and shoulders evidence to the amount of concentration he was under, how bad he wanted to just slam in and out. But this was a game for the both of them. Jake didn't often lose. "So close," Chris grunted, grabbing at Jake's back. He lifted his legs, wrapping them around Jake's waist as best he could, "Jesus..." "Fuck," Jake gasped, pulling his hand out, a soft scream falling from Chris' lips at the sudden loss. His toes curled and Jake's cock slammed in hard, his back arching, abs sliding across Chris' dripping cock right before he lost his footing and he shot, ropes of pearly cum smattering across his stomach as Jake's slow thrusting continued. "Just go," Chris whimpered, voice shaky. He was practically begging, "Slam me, Jake. Make me..." his voice trailed off as Jake obliged, thrusts not gaining any speed, but to Chris' shuddering body it seemed like Jake's strength had somehow doubled. Chris pulled Jake down, kissed him hard once and then latched onto the spot right under his ear, garnering a low growl and one last thrust he swore would send them both off the bed. A second later, he felt Jake's body go rigid, grunting filling the room as Jake's hot cum spilled into his clutching hole. "Oh fuck," Chris sighed, pushing Jake's wet hair off his forehead, Jake's lips kissing the depression between Chris' collarbones tenderly, "fucking fantastic." Jake only nodded in agreement, letting his body fall down atop Chris', bare ass to the ceiling. He let out a long soft breath and reached to grab Chris' hand in his own, fingers tangling as their lips came together one more time. Outside on the balcony, Jonas shook his head, wondering why Topher didn't kiss him when they coupled. He was supposed to be immune to this, he thought. But seeing Jake and Chris like that, completely engrossed in each other to the point that they didn't even realize that he'd been watching, made him wish that just once, Topher would give in. *** "You packed my gray suit, my black suit, and...what other one?" "The ones I couldn't pronounce. Bot...something." "Yeah, that's the right one. Just the two?" "That's all," Wes said, "the one gray and the other gray for Jake. The ones you always wear." "Thanks," Jake said, pulling his suitcase off of the carousel. "Yours were on the right side of the closet, right?" "Left," Jake said, "I always take the left. Bed, closet, bookshelf," he smiled, pulling Chris to him, "kisses." "It's because something else goes to the left," Chris said, grinning, "and my shoes, right? Wingtips." "Yes," Wes said, mentally checking things off his list, "you guys will be set, don't worry." "What did I do before you?" Chris asked, smiling. He loved packing, but he always managed to forget something. Wes, it seemed, had a knack for doing things the way they should be done-- methodically and carefully, things Chris still struggled with. Writing, that came naturally. Remembering the right shoes? He still had to figure that out. Chris buttoned his suit as the elevator door slid open, the ding ringing through the hallway. The stop at hotel was quick. After a quick kiss on the forehead, Jake had stayed behind to take a nap. Chris and Wes were here for work and, more importantly, networking, "This is Conde Nast," Chris said, leading Wes down the hall, "it's unreal, huh?" Wes was speechless. Everything from the paintings on the wall to the people rushing through them was polished and perfect. The pictures in Vogue and GQ had somehow managed to come to life, and it was all here in this very building. Wes suddenly felt inadequate in his cheap suit, his scuffed shoes, and his wrinkled shirt. Chris, on the other hand, looked so put together in his suit and even though his shirt was wrinkled and his tie was a little crooked, he looked like he always did, comfortable and Californian. "So this is the GQ floor, up one more is the Vogue floor, down one is the Food and Wine floor. If you work in magazines, this whole building is Mecca." Wes shook his head slowly, "Crazy." "You don't get used to it," Chris whispered, "ever." They walked down a hall, the offices all glass. Chris waved to a few people, smiling wide. As they walked into a field of cubicles, everyone seemed to stop, eyes all turning to the both of them. Wes noticed that Chris seemed to be more comfortable here, surrounded by writers and editors, than anywhere else they'd been together. Chris seemed shy and almost reclusive when they were at events back at home, but here he was more often than not stopping to shake hands and talk, introducing Wes to everyone--photographers, editors, even interns. "The editor's name is Jim," Chris said to him as they neared the end of the corridor, "he's cool. He's why we're wearing the suits we're wearing. He's the one who pushed for fiction in the magazine." "How long have you known him?" "A while," Chris said. The secretary's desk was empty, and Wes was about to stop, but Chris walked right in, Jim's face immediately lighting up as he shook Chris' hand. "Great to see you, Christopher," he said, "great story, great shoot. My intern is getting them printed up right now from photo." "This is Wes, he's my new Celeste, sort of," Chris said, pushing Wes forward a little, "he's fantastic. We're training him for the big leagues." Wes' voice was shaky as he introduced himself, "I'm not very GQ, but this is a great opportunity...to meet you." "Not GQ? You look great," Jim said, putting everyone at ease. Wes blushed, if everyone was this nice, maybe this was the right place to be after all. An hour later, Wes had practically seen the whole building, shook a million hands, and had a pocket full of business cards. It was like walking with a bar of gold in his hands. He couldn't believe it. They said their goodbyes and he followed Chris back to the elevator bay. "Was that ok?" Chris asked, "I don't...I've never done anything like that, but you've been so great." The elevator's ding echoed off the marble of the room again and Wes imagined hearing that every day, unable to wipe the grin off of his face. "Chris," they both heard as the doors slid open. "Kurt, hey," Chris said, offering his hand, "how's it going? Do you work here now?" Kurt warily shook Chris' hand, gaze fixed on Wes, "Hardly. I'm actually just dropping off a resume." Chris nodded. He didn't have the heart to say that this wasn't the sort of place that just took resumes from people. "This is Wesley McGee. Best assistant you'll ever meet." "Dry cleaning picker upper," Kurt said, shaking his hand lazily, "nice to see Chris finally let go a little." "I don't...what?" Chris asked, literally scratching his head. "I don't actually do that," Wes said, still floating on his high, "and thanks to this guy, I'll probably be working here soon." "Is that so?" Kurt said, nodding as he took a step away from them, "Then good luck to you." His jaw tightened and Chris was still trying to figure out exactly where he was coming from, "Have a good time in the city. Give Jake my regards." And just like that, Kurt disappeared into the labyrinth of hallways and offices. "He's...I don't know what he is," Chris tried to explain, "a friend, I guess. An acquaintance." "Let's get some coffee," Kurt said. "Took the words right out of my mouth," Chris said, gripping Wes' shoulder. They waited for another elevator, both slowly coming back down to earth. --- feedback? christopherrluu@gmail.com