Date: Mon, 28 Jan 2008 18:35:33 -0800
From: christopher. <christopherrluu@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through part 46

Usual disclaimers apply (This is a work of fiction and any resemblance
between the characters and persons living or dead is purely coincidental).
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 both Stephen and Avy for everything that they've done for me.  A
very special, very very special thank you to Martin, my best friend and
boyfriend turned finace, without whom I would not be writing, would not be
loving, and would not be who I am.

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 LVI

     Atticus was a fantastic judge of character.  Where Boo was unwavering
in his love, doting on anyone who would give him attention, pawing at legs
and feet for scratches behind the ear or quick belly rubs, Atticus eyed
everyone with suspicion, hesitant to approach new people, doling out his
affections to the two people that he genuinely trusted.  Chris saw it,
credited it to the fact that Atticus was a rescue dog and that he was
older.  Atticus was loyal if nothing else, but when he almost tackled
Jonas, a bag of bagels in his hand as a gesture of goodwill, Chris and Jake
both realized that dogs had an innate sixth sense.  There was no denying
it.

     "Damn, I thought he liked me," Jonas said, smoothing his clothes, "or
at least he used to.  Jesus."

     "Come on," Chris said flatly, grabbing at Atticus' collar, "calm
down."

     "Chris, I owe you an apology.  Jake as well," Jonas said, eyes
lowered, "I was out of hand."

     "I'm not ready to take it," Jakes said, leaning against a wall,
Atticus sitting at his feet, "you called Chris a slut, which he isn't, and
even more than that, you brought us into it when clearly, we have nothing
to do with you and Grace."

     "I know," Jonas said, accent thick, "and it's a hard sell, but I don't
deserve to have you two as friends, don't know why that lug Topher would
choose someone like me, I was scared, really."

     Chris turned to Jake and watched as his eyes moved down Jonas' body,
taking in the entire scene, "I don't know, you made me pretty fucking mad,"
he said, "it's going to take more than bagels and 'I'm sorry.'"

     He turned to walk into the kitchen and Jonas let out a long sigh,
"He's stubborn," Chris said before Jonas could react any further, "he'll
come around, Jo."

     "I brought these for you," Jonas said, smiling weakly, his verdant
green eyes seemed dimmed and his spirit was obviously cracked, if not
broken.

     "I saw," Chris said, "is there a sesame one in there for me?"

     "You know it."

     "Come on, I'll toast those guys up."  Jonas followed Chris into the
house, noticing that Jake had gone upstairs.  He hated himself for
insulting people who had wholeheartedly welcomed into their circle.  "I can
make some coffee, too," Chris said as he started to do it without even
waiting to hear Jonas' answer.

     "You didn't tell him about it, did you?" Jonas asked, his voice low
and quiet.

     "Tell him about what?  He was there," Chris said, slicing their bagels
in half.

     "About the other thing," Jonas said, "in your foyer."

     Chris turned around quickly, "No.  I don't even think about that
little lapse of judgment you had."

     "You're a good kisser," Jonas said, smiling again.

     "Stop.  If he knew, he'd have punched you or something.  I swear, he's
not that sort of guy but that's two strikes, Jo."

     Jonas sunk down in his chair, feeling about two inches tall with every
reminder of his mistakes, "It's been hard," Jonas said, "I'm not used to
this.  Things usually get mucked up."

     "It's only been a few weeks," Chris said, "you've never had anything
longer?"

     "Not like this," Jonas admitted, "this is almost too serious.
Topher's fantastic, but I keep thinking that he'll just drop me.  Wouldn't
be the first time."  Jonas watched as Chris nodded, bagels popping up out
of the toaster.  Jonas got up and grabbed two mugs from the rack that sat
on the counter, filling them up as he waited for Chris to say something.

     "I love you Jonas, and I don't want you to get hurt, but you've got to
give Topher more credit than that.  He's not going to just forget about
you.  He might if you keep up with this crap," he said, "Topher's a really
really good guy.  I'd never want to lose him."

     "He seems to think the same about you."

    "He used to," Chris interjected, "but things changed."  Jonas watched
as Chris took a big bite of his bagel, eyes focused out on the cresting
waves, "Things have really changed."

     "They'll keep changing," Jonas said, unsure of what that really meant,
"for the better."

     "Let's hope," Chris said, smiling, "for your sake and mine."

***

     Jake was enamored with the sculpture, white plaster poured to look
like a huge bouquet of flowers, the over-the-top kind that stood in hotel
lobbies: larger than life, lush, overflowing, abundant.  But at the same
time, it was stark and ghostly.  Chris stood beside him, hands in the
pockets of his pants, shifting from the balls of his feet to the heel, his
dress shoes still stiff.  "This is awesome," Jake said quietly, even though
all the hushed voices at the museum were louder than the usual murmur.

     Chris nodded, catching someone looking at him.  He met his eyes for a
split second, the color alluring, somewhere between the oceanic blue of
Jake's and the verdant green of Topher's.  Chris snapped back, glancing at
Jake to see if he saw, but he was still examining the stark white
sculpture.  "I'm going to get something to drink," Chris whispered to him,
"do you want something?"

     "Anything's fine," Jake said, nodding, "I'm going to be here."

     "Alright," Chris said softly, running his hand over Jake's for just a
second, their pinkies locking before Chris turned on his heels, fiddling
with the button on his suit.  He looked around the room for familiar faces,
but there weren't any.  He and Jake got invited to a million things, maybe
two million, and he assumed that Topher and Jonas got the same amount, but
they weren't always at the same social events.  Maybe it was better though,
with things between Jake and Jonas.

      "I need some Martinelli's," Chris said, the bartender motioning to
another station.  He grabbed a flute of champagne for Jake and headed over,
the table surrounded by bored looking teenagers and children.  He rolled
his eyes as he reached between them and snatched up some apple cider,
smiling as he sipped at it, turning around and almost spitting it onto the
chest of the cerulean-eyed stranger.  "Hi," Chris said nervously, scanning
over his shoulders for Jake.  He was tall, light brown hair meticulously
mussed on his head, his nose on the bigger side, skin paler than his own.
He looked vaguely familiar, but Chris felt that way about everyone.

     "James," he said, grabbing the flute of champagne from Chris' hand
before offering his own.  His accent was sublime and Chris almost melted.
It wasn't Irish, he knew that one well enough, "McAvoy.  I read for one of
your films, obviously didn't get a callback."

     "Oh," Chris said, shaking his hand, grabbing Jake's champagne before
James could take a sip, "your accent..."

     "Scottish," he said, grinning.  Chris looked closer, his features
captivating, nothing seemed to go together, but everything seemed to work.
'Jolie-laid,' he thought, the French word he learned about in school and
never actually saw in person.  Until now, he realized, he'd never seen
something so beautifully off-kilter.  He could hardly take his eyes off of
James' features, so different from the conventionally handsome people that
surrounded him in Los Angeles.  He needed to write it down, use it in his
book somewhere.  "And yours?"

     Chris chuckled, "Californian."

     "Hollywood," James said, smiling wide, "the universal American."

     "Not Hollywood," Chris insisted, "it's just um...beach."

     "You looked bored out there," James commented, "don't appreciate this
sort of thing?"

     "I like color," Chris said, "all this white stuff is sort of getting
old."

     "I like color, too," James said, "the color of your brown eyes."

     "I like the chiaroscuro of blue and brown," Chris said, "something
about the light and dark gets me.  Can't put my finger on it."

     James' eyebrow raised, obviously impressed, "Chiaroscuro?  Someone's
been studying up."

     Chris grinned, "I should get back.  Word of the day used and all, I
can't impress you anymore."

     "I'm sure you could, Christopher."

     "It's Chris," he said, "and I've got someone waiting for me."

     "Lucky for them."

     "It was nice meeting you."

     "Et toi aussi," he said, giving a little bow, "a la prochaine."

     Chris was impressed, but didn't say anything, just smiled and took a
few steps back, still entranced by the color of James' eyes and his warm
smile.  He wove through the crowd and got back to Jake, the tiny bubbles in
the champagne rising in graceful lines, "Thanks," Jake said, his free hand
going to the small of Chris' back as he leaned in to whisper, "why are you
blushing?"

     He was sure he turned even redder, but he didn't answer, bringing his
apple cider to his lips instead.  Jake chuckled and pulled Chris to the
next piece, smiles on both of their faces.

     "Jonathan, hi," Chris said, suddenly nervous as he saw his old editor,
his navy suit ill-fitting, "this is Jake, I don't know if you guys ever
met.  Jonathan is my...former editor."

     Jonathan didn't offer his hand, just scanned the both of them up and
down.  He was the division editor at Knopf, had given Chris as much freedom
as any writer could get, but he was also the reason Chris left.  He'd
suddenly started to look at dollar signs instead of creativity.  "I heard
you're with Penguin, I hope they're treating you well."

     Chris nodded and Jake could almost see the tension between the two of
them.  "It's good," Chris said with some trepidation, "I..."

     "I also heard you were writing a very surreal novel," Jonathan
interrupted, "and that you felt we were inconducive to your creativity.
There are as many rumors surrounding you in the world of publishing as
there are surrounding you and Mr. Gyllenhaal in the world of the tabloids,
but I'll tell you what I think, since it was obvious that our last meeting
together was nothing more than a formality: surrealism is just a word you
use instead of 'make believe.'"

     "Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Jonathan."

     "Then stop writing like one.  Your themes are getting old,
Christopher, and unless you plan on coasting on mediocre film adaptations
and second-rate magazine work, I'd take a long look at what you're writing
before you put out another surreal flop."

     Chris could feel Jake bristle, but he grabbed his wrist, holding him
back before a word could come from him.  "I hope that you have a good
night," Chris said, straightening, "now that you've insulted not only me
and my work, but my husband and his work, I don't think I have anything
else to say."

      "The world of fiction writing is changing," Jonathan continued, "and
as much as you want to believe that the world will follow you, I'm telling
you know that your work lacks what the world wants most."

     "And what's that," Jake asked angrily, "gloss and bullshit?"

     "Exactly."

***

     Jake was still fuming as they waited for the car, jaw tight as he
couldn't think of any more insults to hurl at Jonathan Levine, publishing
asshole extraordinaire.  Chris was being stoic about it, but Jake saw right
through the feigned nonchalance.  "It's fine," Chris said to nobody in
particular, but Jake knew exactly whom he was addressing.

     "No, it's not.  That was unprofessional and uncalled for."

     "He lost a big name on his roster, Jake.  He's mad.  It's
understandable."

     "I'm glad you don't have to deal with that ass anymore," Jake said.

     "Hey, you look really good tonight," Chris said, running his fingers
over Jake's lapel, his eyes practically pleading for Jake to drop the
subject.  The back of his fingers ran over Jake's jaw, "It's done."

     "Did you have a good time tonight?  Apart from...you know."

     "You did."

     "What's that?" Jake asked, grabbing Chris' hand, eyes narrowing to
read the smeared words, "'jolie laid?'"

     "It's a French word, I didn't want to forget it."

     Jake nodded, "I'm starving, do you want to get something to eat?"  The
car pulled up and Chris thanked the valet, reaching in his pocket for some
cash.  Jake was already sliding into his seat as looked around one more
time, a tiny bit of him wanting to see those eyes one more time, but he got
in and grabbed Jake's hand.

     "Anything you want."

     "Anything?" Jake asked, eyebrow raised.

     "Well not anything.  We have to go home for that," Chris said as he
mimicked Jake's expression.

     "Who said anything about that?"

     "You don't have to say anything," Chris said as he leaned over to
Jake's ear, his lips brushing the skin, "you always want to get some of
that."

     A twenty-minute ride later, Chris and Jake sat down in a booth, the
late night crowd disregarding their state of dress.  "Two burgers, medium,
one no onions, no pickles, the other one with everything," Jake said, the
waitress writing down the order, eyes locked on Jake's face as he scanned
the menu, "an order of fries, extra crunchy, and...you want rings?"

     "One order of onion rings, a vanilla shake--two straws, and a Coke,"
Chris finished for him.

     Jake flashed her a smile, sending her heart fluttering as he walked
away, "What's the point of 'no onions' if you're going to get onion rings?"

     Chris just shrugged, "I'm a complex guy, what can I say?"

     "Tell me," Jake said, sitting back, "and I mean seriously, you think
this next book is going to be really good?"

     "It's changed so much," Chris said without even thinking, "it's not
like what I thought it was going to be."

     "I think you need to focus," Jake said, "write without moving around
the house, the dogs all jumping on you, the phone."

     "You."

     "Well," Jake grinned, "we have to draw the line somewhere."

    "Who gets no pickles?" the waitress asked, balancing the huge tray on a
folding stand.  She didn't wait for an answer, doling out French fries and
onion rings right into the middle of the table, Coca Cola and the frothy
white milkshake following not far behind.

     "I'm the picky one," Chris said, shrugging his jacket off.  He rolled
his sleeves as Jake squeezed a big puddle of rich red ketchup next to his
fries.

     "Not too picky," Jake said, winking at the waitress, sending her heart
puttering again.  Chris rolled his eyes, fingers already greasy as he tore
apart his onion ring.

     "Mr. California," Chris heard over his shoulder, glancing up, his eyes
grew wide as he saw those eyes again, "this is the only restaurant open
near the hotel at this hour, don't get the wrong idea."

     Chris set his burger down on his plate before wiping his hands, "This
is Jake, I would have introduced you at the museum, but..."

     "But you were skipping off to see your Jake," James said, "I'll leave
you two to your food.  Looks fantastic."

     "It is," Jake said, eyeing James, who looked tired and relaxed at the
same time, "you want to...sit with us?  Did you guys just meet tonight?"

     "No, no," James insisted.

     "You can't eat alone," Jake said, beckoning James to sit with him.  He
caught the waitress' attention, not that it took much, pointing to his
hamburger.  She nodded quickly and went back to the kitchen right away.

     "James is from Scotland," Chris said, mentally comparing everything
about the two men across from him.  There were so many similarities, but at
the same time, there were hundreds of differences, too.

     "James was in Narnia," Jake said, "remember?  Mr. Tumnus?  Pedophilic
goat?"

     James chuckled, "And you're the gay cowboy?  The UPS deliveryman?
Aldous Huxley's great hero John?"

     "That's me," Jake said, matching James' light laughter.

     "What does that make me?" Chris asked before taking another big bite
of his burger.

     "You get to actually have an identity," James said, "because even if
people don't read your books, they see that you attend ridiculous art
exhibitions and new movies.  You've got it made."

     "How long are you in town for?" Chris asked as Jake took a loud sip of
their milkshake.  James' food had arrived and he ravenously took to it,
obviously unsatisfied by the champagne and canapes at the museum.

     "A while," James said, mouth full, "working on a few projects."

     Jake watched as Chris smiled, biting his lower lip coyly, "That's
great.  Maybe we'll see you around."  Chris had a thing for accents, loved
anything foreign, especially European, and Jake could tell that there was
part of Chris that just wanted to know more about anyone who had different
experiences.  It was research for both characters and plot.  Jake could
almost feel Chris taking notes in his head.

     "Until I find a condo," James said, beaming with pride.  Jake and
Chris could tell he felt like he'd really made it.  A few films and he was
ready to be in the big leagues; actors came to Los Angeles to have their
dreams shattered or have them realized.  James was certain that he'd
established himself--there was no other way to describe his confidence.
Chris watches as he loosened his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt,
sitting back in the booth as their eyes came together one more time.

     "He has beautiful eyes, doesn't he?" Jake asked, startling the both of
them, "he doesn't like them though.  He's crazy."

     "Why not?" James asked.

     "They're just dark," Chris said, "cold."

     "They're deep," Jake said, "they're rich and warm.  They're not cold
at all."

     "They're just so ordinary," Chris said.

     "I hear eyes are like fingerprints," James said smoothly, "nobody's
are ordinary."

     Chris looked at the both of them, someone he knew for years and years,
and the other he'd only just met.  For the first time in a very long time,
he felt his heart flutter and his stomach pitter with butterflies.

***

     Jake sighed contentedly and looked over to Chris, "Shit, you're still
moving around?  Means I didn't do my job."  It had been a few minutes since
their breathing had settled, their mouths finally parting as Jake's soft
cock slipped out of Chris' hole, both of their bodies tingling and warm,
sated.

     Chris gave him soft glance as he pulled the sheer curtains shut, the
twinkling stars barely peeking through the fabric, "I just had to get
cleaned up," Chris said, almost a whisper.  Jake nodded, scooting over to
his side of the bed.

     "Come here," Jake said, running his hand over the mattress, "nice and
cozy for you."

     Jake had pulled the sheet over his lower body and Chris contemplated
putting his underwear back on when he walked by it, but he slipped into the
bed and let himself be gathered up into Jake's embrace.  They sighed in
unison and Chris leaned up to kiss Jake's jaw one more time, legs tangling
together, hearts beating as one.  "Sweet dreams," Jake whispered.

     Chris groaned as Jonas pressed against him, lips at his back, hands
shuttling down his bare sides, their groans mingling as James kissed his
mouth, his hairy chest pressed against Chris', their tongues hungry,
licking at each other's lips, mouths crashing again and again as their
heads tilted and bodies swayed, Chris' hands clutching at James' shoulder
and his hip, his dick grinding against James'.  His body was tingling,
almost warmer than he could stand as James took their dicks in hand and
stroked them together, Jonas' hand sliding to Chris' stomach, reaching down
to join James'.

     "Fuck," Chris whispered, voice breathy and shallow, his head falling
back to Jonas' shoulders, their eyes locking, Jonas' hair brushing Chris'
forehead as he leaned down to kiss him, soft gentle kisses as Chris felt
himself melting against Jonas' embrace.  Chris' hands tangled in James'
brown strands.  Jonas had begun to kiss down his neck, moving down the
bumps of his spine, his stubbly chin rasping across Chris' smooth back.

    "You feel so good," James said, grinning as Chris kissed his jaw,
James' hand on his shoulder, easing him down.  Chris rested his hands on
James' hips and moved to his knees, Jonas pulling him up immediately,
pressing their lips together as he pulled Chris on top of him, both of them
falling down onto the bed.  "You've got to share, Jo," James said softly,
his hands on Chris' ass.

     "You take that first," Jonas moaned, Chris kissing down his chest,
dusted with light brown hair, lean and firm.  He groaned as Chris nipped at
his nipples, hands stroking Jonas' leaking cock, fingers moving quick
around its thickness.  Chris gave long, slow licks up Jonas' cock, lapping
up the pearls of pre-cum as he got to the tip, sending shivers up and down
Jonas' spine, warmth spreading through his body as Chris took the head in
his mouth, groaning as his eyes shut, James' tongue paying the same
attention to his crack, Jonas' fingers gripping the sheets, knuckles
flexing, arms tense as he let out slow, shallow gasps.  Chris thumbed
Jonas' nipples for a second before steadying himself, taking more of Jonas'
thick length into his mouth, James' tongue spiraling around his hole,
sending shivers through Chris' body.  "That's...oh fuck that's good," James
said, eyes locked on the image.

     Chris' cock was hard, James made sure with slow, steady loose-handed
strokes, loving how responsive Chris was, just seeing the quakes and the
arching, the eagerness that he had sucking Jonas off, loud messy sucking
coupling with Jonas' grunts and quiet encouragement.  He loved how pliable
Chris seemed, languid and supple to every touch.  Groaning around Jonas'
cock, Chris pulled off and licked at his balls, taking one in his mouth as
Jonas' toes curled, his hands grabbing Chris' hair to pull him back up to
his dick.  Grunting, Chris obliged, swirling his tongue around the tip,
flicking it across the slit as his fingers tugged playfully at Jonas'
balls, sending a string of expletives into the room.  Chris dove down,
swallowing Jonas deep in his throat as James plunged his tongue into his
hole.  Gasping, Chris threw his head back, but Jonas slammed him back down,
fingers tight in his hair.

     "Seems like you're having all the fun," James said, scooting closer to
Chris' body.

     "Fuckin' right I am," Jonas said, gripping Chris' head as his hips
rose and fell, grunting as he threw his head back, mouth slack as Chris'
throat massaged his cock.  "Shit...this is fantastic," he groaned.

     James shook his head, "How's this for fun?" he said as he slid a
finger into Chris' hole.  Grinning, he watched Chris freeze and didn't give
him any more time before another finger went in beside the first.

     "Oh fuck!" Jonas groaned, his jaw tight.  He gripped Chris tight as he
shot, cum coating Chris' mouth, swallowing fast as Jonas' sudden orgasm
rocked his body, every muscle standing in stark relief as he lay awash in
the sensation, struggling to keep his eyes open as he watched Chris lap at
his cock, eyes half-lidded as he got the last bits of cum off of Jonas'
hairy stomach before swallowing.  Jonas went limp, taking deep breaths as
Chris grunted above him, James' fingers scissoring in his hole, raking over
his prostate again and again, his hand gripping Chris' shoulder to steady
his quivering body.

     "Nice work," James whispered, "you're so tight, can't wait to get in
there."

     "Shit, James," Chris groaned, his words fading into incoherent
whimpers, those muffled as Jonas collected himself and brought their lips
together, his sweaty skin rubbing against Chris as he lifted their bodies
up, chest to chest, his fingers toying with Chris' cock before sliding in
beside James'.

     "You think he should slick you up, mate?" Jonas asked, eyes locked on
James' aching cock, pre-cum shiny on the head.  He reached over to spread
it over James' length, seeing it twitch, another bit of pre-cum sliding
out.

     "You're not getting back here before me, Armstrong," James said, voice
low, accent thick.

     "Fuck, you two.  Someone get in me," Chris moaned, his hole stretched
by two men, his cock ignored by both of them.  He knew he'd shoot as soon
as someone got inside of him, but as Jonas inched in another finger,
pressing hard on Chris' sweet spot, his eyes slammed shut and his orgasm
spilled out between himself and Jonas, his heaving body falling back onto
James', heavy breathing in his ear, James' free hand rubbing the cum into
Chris' stomach before bringing his hands to Chris' eager lips.  Jonas
grunted, eyes wide as he watched, pulling Chris' head down, "Fuck, Jo, come
on," Chris pleaded, his tongue lapping at his own load, a smirk of
satisfaction playing on Jonas' lips.

     Chris felt James shift behind him and winced as the round head of his
cock pushed into his hole.  Stretched or not, it burned, the pressure
intense as James steadily pushed inside, not giving Chris time to recover
from his orgasm or the thickness of his cock.  Chris' forehead pressed
against the taut muscles of Jonas' hairy stomach, catching his breath and
struggling to breathe as James started to pull out, leaving him completely
empty before pushing back inside, his eyes locked on his own cock and where
it slid into Chris' hole, transfixed on the visual as much as the physical.
He was never someone who prided himself on control, but just watching Chris
stretch open, watching his cock slide deep into that tight, clutching
channel, he reveled in the slow, controlled penetration.

     "That's so good," Chris groaned, James' thick cock sliding into him,
the head brushing past his prostate, his back arching a tiny bit before
Jonas pushed his hair back, their lips coming together.

     "You take to a fuckin' like a pro, you do," he whispered, "that huge
dick in your ass.  You like that?"

     Chris nodded feverishly, his mouth desperate for Jonas', "Think he
needs a little encouragement?" Jonas asked him, "think you should tell him
what to do."

     "Fuck me James," Chris practically yelled, "fuck me...please...Jesus
fuck me," he managed to say before James grabbed his hips and really
slammed hard, a choked moan shook Chris' chest and Jonas grinned, nipping
at his collarbones and stroking his cock.

     "You feel so good around my dick," James grunted, his breath hot
against Chris' ear.

     "Ride that ass," Jonas said, his lips on Chris' nipple.

     "Ride this dick is more like it," James said, pulling out.  Chris
gasped, his body shaking as James lay down, holding the base of his hard
cock.  He didn't have to say anything, his eyes just locking on Chris'.
Jonas sat back on his haunches, his dick rock-hard as he watched Chris
straddle James' hips, impaling himself on the thick rod, eyes intense,
beckoning Jonas closer.

     Chris held onto Jonas' shoulders, Chris whispering, "You taste so
good, Jo," before their lips came together.  Jonas pressed their sweaty
bodies together, pressing his hard shaft against Chris'.

     "You're so fucking hot, Christopher," he whispered, "can't wait to get
in that hole.  Going to take my sweet time fucking you.  Make you scream my
name.  James is just warming you up for my cock."

     Dizzy, Chris felt his head spin, James' cock still sliding in and out,
skin slapping skin as they moved together, Jonas' mouth on his again, the
whimpers coming from Chris' throat only encouraging both James' thrusts and
Jonas' strokes.  Jonas' tongue was inside Chris' mouth, sliding across
Chris', penetrating him deep like he was competing with James, "Keep it
tight," Jonas whispered.  Chris must have done something, Jonas figured,
because James grunted and froze, his eyes shut and his lips tight for those
few seconds before he gripped Chris' hips and controlled the fuck, quick
hard jabs and long severe thrusts into Chris' ass.

     "Jo," Chris groaned, "of fuck, James."  His body was racked with
another wave of sensation, James pushing him off, settling their bodies at
a better angle, pushing Jonas away as he slid back inside, Chris' legs on
his shoulders, James' tongue replacing Jonas', Chris groaning at the severe
angle of James' cock, the heft of his body, the completely consuming fuck
overtaking him.  James pressed their foreheads together, almost demanding
that Chris' eyes open to meet his.  He nipped at Chris lip and slammed in
hard, making Chris' back arch and his eyes open in surprise, the intense
gaze freezing him, James boring into him as he shot deep inside Chris'
hole, his body shaking and spasms rocking every muscle.  Chris' orgasm
wasn't far behind, his cock spurting another load between their bodies.
His mouth opened in a silent groan, and his head was still trying to
settle, but James pulled out, another gasp coming from the both of them
before he leaned down for another deep kiss, the back of his fingers
running the length of Chris' cock.

     "You're so hot," James whispered, "I love that you cum without
touching yourself.  So fucking great."

     "Off of him," Jonas said, stroking himself, "get down there, James,
clean him out."

     "Jo," Chris whispered, eyes heavy, unfocused as he took in the image
of Jonas' cock, long and hard, his chest rising and falling, strength
hidden by his slim build.

     "Wank yourself," Jonas whispered, leaning down, his hair ticking
Chris' forehead as they kissed, deep and thorough, James lifting Chris'
legs, tongue lapping at his own cum, slurping it up as he slid his tongue
inside, Chris squirming above him, his hand stroking himself, Jonas'
fingers tenderly tracing he contours of his stomach.

     Chris arched up on to his shoulders, groaning into Jonas' mouth as
James' tongue darted in and out of him.  He let his leg fall off of James'
shoulder, spreading them apart, Jonas' lips still on his, the kiss slow and
tender.

     "All yours," James said, smirking as he watched Jonas and Chris kiss.
It wasn't his style, slow and soft, he'd reamed Chris' ass the way he
always did, hard and fast.  Chris didn't seem to mind it at all, his orgasm
evidence to that, but James shrugged it off.  To each his own.

     Jonas settled between Chris' legs, smiling as Chris' almost dreamy
expression faded into one of concentration, Jonas' cock sliding into Chris'
hole slowly, pausing to let Chris' tight ring squeeze him, his own mouth
open, his eyes shutting as they rolled back in his head, shoulders and
chest tense.  James leaned down and kissed at Chris' neck, grinning as
Chris' hand came to his cock, stroking him back to hardness as Jonas' cock
filled his chute.  James bit and nipped, making sure to leave his marks on
Chris' neck.  He had him, he wanted people to know, wanted everyone to see.

     Jonas' thrusts were slow and soft, like he was memorizing every
detail.  He'd wanted it, made no qualms about it, and now he finally had
it.  Chris was hot and slick, beautifully stretched beneath him, willing
and enthusiastic, cock hard and dripping even though he'd just shot, his
body hot and supple, skin soft and smooth, everything, the tastes, the
smells, the sounds, everything was just like Jonas knew it would be.  He
steadied himself and thrust harder, firm and steady, making sure Chris knew
it went beyond the physical.  James was still necking him, still thrusting
his hips into Chris' fist.  Chris quaked around his cock, the pressure
sending Jonas higher and higher, his body running on adrenaline and his
grunts and groans seemed perfectly in tune with Chris'.  He leaned down and
pushed James away, kissing Chris softly, pulling away when James started to
kiss his neck.

     "Like that, Christopher?  You like watching?" James asked him.

     Chris nodded quickly, his fists knotting the sheets, watching with
rapt attention as James kissed Jonas, their tongues dueling, mouths open.
James' hand ran up Jonas' chest and Chris watched, Jonas' concentration
straining to keep the thrusts even as his body was racked with the
sensations.  He let out a low groan and held still, giving James one last
intense kiss, "Just like old times," James said.

     "Make it like old times," Jonas said, scooting Chris further up the
bed.  Chris was too far gone to pay any more attention, concentrating on
the ripples that Jonas' cock sent through him, trying to hold back,
gripping Jonas' shoulders, but he slammed back to the moment when he heard
Jonas' words, "fuck me, James, just like you used to."

     "Yeah, I knew you couldn't hold back," James said, slathering his cock
with lube, Chris watched, eyes fixed on James' over Jonas' shoulders, gaze
intense as his eyes shot from Jonas to James, unsure which to watch.  One
hard thrust and his eyes shut, neck tight.  He felt Jonas' body go rigid
and he knew James was pushing in, knew because Jonas went in that much
deeper.

    "Fuck, Jo'," Chris groaned, his hand pushing Jonas' sweat-soaked hair
back, "breathe, come on, keep going.  Fuck me."

     Jonas pulled back, groaning, his jaw slack as he fucked Chris again,
slow and steady, James was staring into Chris' eyes, licking his lips as he
fucked Jonas hard, slamming Chris by way of Jonas' cock.  Chris' eyes
slammed shut and he arched up onto his shoulders, Jonas' cock hammering
into him so hard and deep.  Their bodies moved together, reveling in the
heat and the sweat, the tightness and the burn with every move of their
hips.  Chris was whimpering, Jonas' lips on his neck, adding to the marks
already forming.

     "Jonas," Chris groaned, sending a chill down Jonas' spine, just
hearing Chris say his name, knowing that it was him that was doing it, knew
that even though James was there, it was his cock and his body that did
that to Chris.  James was slamming in harder now, rushing towards orgasm
like a bullet train, his body flushed and wet with sweat, beads dripping
down his forehead and his chest, Jonas' hole tight and hot, just like he
remembered.  Chris was still grunting, whimpering under their bodies, his
legs wrapped around Jonas' waist, necking with an almost fevered passion,
both of them letting their inhibitions fade, giving into the instinct of
their bodies.

     "Fuck, boys I can't go any more," Jonas groaned.  His lips slammed
into Chris', tongue pressing hard, sliding into Chris' mouth as he shot,
his body rigid, his cock harder and thicker than ever, shot after shot of
searing hot cum spilling into Chris' clutching hole.  He groaned, the sound
muffled only by Chris' mouth, his toes curling and his hole clutching
James' dick.  His voice was dry and hoarse, his body tingling, muscles
aching with satisfaction.

     James grunted and pulled out, stroking himself, watching as Jonas and
Chris kissed, Jonas' body limp and flush.  He pushed Jonas off of Chris and
slid his dick in, Chris grunting with surprise, eyes wide, James groaning
to feel Chris' hole again, wet and slick with cum.  A few thrusts and he
was there too, Chris moaning and grunting, his body jerking as the cum shot
between their heaving bodies, James' orgasm rushed ahead, coming with one
more slam forward into Chris hot channel.  Chris went completely slack
beneath him, his eyes rolling back, his breaths shallow and labored, his
body so overrun with sensation that he felt numb and overwhelmed, every
nerve on fire, electric with sensation.  Jonas leaned over and kissed him,
James' lips on his neck again, Chris groaning, gasping as their hands and
bodies moved over him.

     "Chris."

     Chris whimpered, body tired and sore, aching.

     "Chris."

     His eyes fluttered open.

     "Chris, are you having a nightmare?  You were groaning and thrashing
around."

     "Jake?"  Chris asked, surprised.

     "You okay?"

     "Jesus," Chris groaned, "I'm all sweaty."

     "That's alright," Jake whispered, twisting their bodies so that he
straddled Chris' hips, "I think that little break was all we needed."  He
leaned down and Chris was almost relieved to feel the familiar lips, the
same stubble, the comforting weight of the person he loved the most.  The
dream had seemed real, so real, but he was touching Jake and kissing Jake,
and as Jake's knee slid between his legs, spreading him open, he definitely
knew that it was real.

***

     "Just call me when you're done, I'll pick you up," Chris said, his
voice tinged with fatigue, "it's no big deal."

     "We're running late, nothing new there," Jake sighed, "how did the
thing go?"

     Chris hesitated.  "Celeste likes it, she's excited," he said, "she's
going to look it over some more."

     "Mom really liked it."  Chris could hear the smile on Jake's face, see
him almost beaming with pride.  "I shouldn't be much longer.  I hate that
when I tell you it'll be a short day it ends up being overtime."

     "What can we do about it?  I'm just going to get some coffee and stay
out of trouble."

     The city was hectic and Chris was still waiting for Jake to say what
he needed to.  He had no idea how he'd occupy himself, but it wasn't worth
driving home and coming back to get Jake, "I love you, Chris," Jake said,
almost to himself, like Chris was listening in on some sort of internal
dialogue.

     "I love you, too," he said, not resisting the smile that came to his
face with those words, "I think I'll call Jo, Topher's working and he's
probably in the city somewhere."

     "You're going to start talking like him if you keep hanging out with
him," Jake joked, "what's Irish for slut?"

     "Let it go," Chris said, "I'm serious.  If I can do it, you should be
able to."

     Jake huffed, "They're calling for me, so just keep your phone handy,
alright?"

     A few minutes later, Chris walked into a pub, a few blocks from the
studio lots.  Jonas was in a booth, alone, and his eyes lit up when he saw
Chris come inside, "One beer," Chris said when he saw Jonas waiting for
him, "that's it."

     "Alright," Jonas said, smiling as he got up out of his chair.  He
reached over and they hugged, Chris noticing Topher's cologne lingering on
Jonas' skin.  Things were strange, especially after his dream and Jake's
ongoing grudge.  "I figured as much."

     Two pints of beer arrived and Chris watched as Jonas picked it up;
following suit, Chris clanked his glass against Jonas' and was taken aback
as Jonas chugged the entire thing down in one motion, slamming the glass
down as the last remnants of foam slid down the glass and he pumped his
fist in the air.  Chris hadn't even touched his.  "Well how do I top that?"

     "Don't lie to me, I know you can do it."

     "Yeah, but I don't want to."

     "We'll get some chips in you to soak it up.  Come on."

     "I had too many fries the other night," Chris said, bringing the pint
glass to his lips, Jonas' eyes grew wide with excitement as Chris followed
suit, albeit with less enthusiasm.  "I haven't done that in a very long
time."

     "This carpool business is much more trouble than it's worth," Jonas
said, "too much waiting around."

     "What else would you be doing if you weren't getting me drunk?"  Chris
said, jumping as his phone buzzed.  He looked at the number and ignored it.

     "Good point," Jonas said.

     "I'm scared to ask, but how are things with Topher?"

     Jonas and Chris both thanked the waitress, who came two baskets of
food that Chris figured Jonas had ordered for them.  "Sorry," he said,
"chips come standard."

     "Whatever," Chris said, already digging into his French fries, "shit,
why does he keep calling me?" Chris wiped his hands off and shut his phone
off.  "Are we having more beer?"

    "Two is all you're getting," Jonas said, lifting his empty glass to the
waitress, she go the picture, and a few seconds later, there were two new
pints of beer on their table, "Who's calling?"

     "This guy," Chris started, half-wondering whether or not to even get
into it, "we met at a museum thing, his name is James.  McAvoy."

     "Fuck!" Jonas said, his eyes wide with disbelief, "you've got to be
kidding me.  Christopher, we're old mates from uni.  Played rugby together,
we did.  Fastest fucking right-wing, he ran like nothing you'd ever seen.
Damn, why didn't tell me he was here."

     "What?  You went to school with him?"

     "He's from Scotland, but apart from that we got along like brothers.
Glasgow, if I remember right," Jonas said, "if he calls you again, pick it
up.  I want to talk to that fool."

     "He speaks French and is really tall and has these beautiful eyes.  He
knows all about art and says all the right things," Chris blurted out, "I
don't know why he'd be...he has to know about me and Jake.  The flirting
and the talking, it just...it was confusing."

     "Fuck, you think I'm bad, James would flirt with anything on two legs.
Four if he was drunk.  Trees and statuary if was really piss-drunk."

     "He didn't seem like that at all," Chris said, looking down at the
blank screen of his phone.  Knowing him and hearing what Jonas had said,
nothing seemed to fit; he clicked his phone back on, and there was a
voicemail waiting for him.  "I shouldn't have done that."

     "Right.  It was rude."

     "No, Jake needs to call me."

     "Give that here," Jonas snatched the phone out of his hand and called.
It had to be James, there was no way Jonas would want to talk to Jake right
now, Chris didn't even realize they'd be sitting in the same car back home.
Jake would be civil, he didn't doubt that, but he knew that ate best, it
would be tense.  "James is coming right here.  His hotel is just down the
street," Jonas said excitedly, "I can't believe it.  It's been years."

     "So he um...you and he used to play rugby.  Did you do anything else
together?"

     "We didn't date, didn't fuck, just horsed around a few times."

     "What does that mean?  Is that some Irish thing?"

     Jonas chuckled, "When we boys get drunk, we do stupid things, you know
that firsthand...I know that firsthand."

     "So he's...he's gay."

     "He's not picky."

     "He was definitely flirting with me.  Even with Jake right there, he
was flirting."

     "He'll flirt with you while I'm here, too."

     "Oh God, he has to know about me and Jake.  We were together and Jake
invited him to eat with us, but it was obvious.  It was really obvious."

     Jonas hopped out of the booth and practically bolted across the pub,
Chris watched as the two of them exchanged some sort of pseudo-secret
handshake hug.  Chris' brow furrowed and he felt it in his stomach again,
the butterflies.  "You're a hard one to get a hold of, Chris," James said,
offering his hand.  Chris shook it firmly, giving him a smile.  He slid
into the booth, next to Chris this time, and he could tell that Jonas was
excited, elated almost, to see his friend again.  "So this is what America
thinks a pub is.  A shame, isn't it, Armstrong?"

     "It's the best they can do," Jonas said, "but they've got Guinness, or
Newcastle if you're a pansy like this one here, and that's all that
matters."

     "I see you guys have gotten a good start," James said; he turned to
Chris, "And where is your charming Jake?"

     "Working.  One of us has to," Chris said.

     "Right.  And you, Jonas, you're not working with him?"

     "I've got a few less scenes.  The movie's quite dreamy.  It's a trip,
but it's genius."

     Chris smiled, a little blush coming to his cheeks.  He reached to
brush his hair off his forehead, but realized that James had been covering
his hand with his own, thumb stroking the back of his hand.  He hadn't even
felt it.  James glanced over at him, eyes friendly, the tiniest smirk on
his lips, "Anything the matter?" he asked.  His accent seemed thicker than
before, like he was really laying it on to prove to Chris that he had it.

     "No," Chris said, pulling his hand back, "just...no."

     "Jonas and I used to drive the girls...and some of the boys...mad at
school.  We'd kiss and fool around, sometimes we'd share," James said, a
look of satisfaction crossing his face.  Chris glanced at Jonas, who wore
the same expression, "But sometimes I'd want someone for myself."

     "I know that look," Jonas said from across the table, "but
Christopher's got his ring on and you know the rules."

     "It's my fault, really, I had to go and make the story so complicated.
If Jake didn't have to do a zillion montages, he wouldn't be working so
much."

     "It's cute, how you two do that.  I admire commitment."

     "Because you know what that's like?" Chris asked.

     "Because nobody knows love like you two," Topher corrected.

     "What is this genius story about?" James asked, " I have to admit
sometimes your books are too cerebral."

     "They are not.  You're just too lazy," Chris said, smiling, "it's
simple: it's about someone who tries to find himself."

     "And instead," Jonas interrupted, "he's too busy being what he thinks
he should be."

     "And in the end? What does he do?"

     "He doesn't find out," Chris said, "because we can't find ourselves in
one life.  Only if you're lucky you do."

     "Sounds cerebral to me," James said, leaning back, "I see pictures
from the set with Jake in costume after costume.  Deliveryman, firefighter,
politician, zookeeper, you've got quite the imagination."

     "His head is full of good ideas," Jonas said, "that's why we keep him
around."

     "I'm sure he's good for other things," James said.

     "Can you please tell me why you're so creepy?" Chris asked, "I've got
someone."

     "What if he's not what you think?  If we can't find ourselves in one
life, how we can we find anyone else?"

     "I'm lucky, that's how."

***

     "Thanks for being so nice to Jo," Chris said, kissing Jake softly.
Jake only nodded, pulling the comforter back on their bed, "I...he's sorry.
But you can't be mad at him still, let it go."

     "I'm not only mad at him.  Grace has got to work on his timing.  He
should have known."

     "He was sorry, too.  They're our friends."

     Jake sighed, pulling his shirt off, taking a few steps backwards to
toss it across the room into their hamper, the muscles of his chest and
arms standing out under his skin.  Chris bit his bottom lip just watching
it.  "Friend or not, you don't say that shit."

     "I haven't talked to anyone about this, Jake, and I want you to
listen.  Don't say anything until I'm done."

     "Is this about the guys or something else?  The movie?  James?  Work?"

     "James?"

     "Yeah, that guy who stared you down all night.  Fuck, he was staring
holes into you."

     "He wasn't.  But that's not what this is about."

     "At the office today, Wes and I were looking over release dates.  And
you know, I don't know when I'm going to be done with my book or anything
since I keep changing things, but we saw that there was a book coming out."

     Jake nodded, sitting down on the bed, motioning for Chris to join him.
He shook his head, "The synopsis was about these two college boys at some
Ivy League and they sort of hook up and the rest is sort of vague, but one
of them comes from a high profile family and the other one is a sort of
bohemian poet."

     "Sounds like it's been done," Jake said, "you have nothing to be
worried about."

     "Well then right under that, it said that it was based on a real
events."

     "Fuck," Jake's forehead started to furrow, his breathing catching.

     "Jake," Chris scrambled onto the bed, hands framing Jake's face,
thumbs tracing his cheekbones, "you know what I'm going to say, right?  You
have to know."

     "Fuck, fuck fuck," Jake said, "you've got to be kidding me.  How the
hell does someone even do this?  Fucking Kurt and his fucking grudge."

     "Jake, Jake," Chris kept saying it again and again, holding Jake tight
to him, "we'll have to do something.  I wanted to tell you as soon as we
got home but you were in such a good mood."  Chris could feel him shaking,
"Jake, he can't do it."

     "It's just so hard, Chris.  We put it all behind us and it just comes
back like this.  It's fucked.  Fucked up.  He can't do this to us," Jake
said softly.  Chris felt Jake stiffen, gathering his nerves and
straightening up, "He's signed to your old group, isn't he?  They're doing
this to get at you and me."

     Chris nodded, "He's at Random House.  I don't if he names you in it or
if he just wrote a shitty book, but it's got a lot of marketing behind it.
They're really going to be pushing it if it's already on the boards."

     "We have stop it.  I'm going to call mom and shit, I don't know if
she'll even know how to do it."

     "Just call her," Chris insisted, "she'll know."

     "Fuck," Jake groaned, anger welling up inside him, "I can't believe
it."

     "Call her," Chris insisted, "you need to talk to her."

     Jake nodded, kissing Chris again, "Don't wait up for me, okay?"

     "Jake, I love you," Chris said, his lips still on Jake's, "no matter
what.  We're going to get through this.  I know we will."

     Chris' arms slid off of him and Jake backed out of the room, his eyes
sullen, his feet dragging, "He won't take away what we have," Jake said,
"nobody can."  Jake looked at him, kneeling on the edge of the bed, his
face worried.  It broke Jake's heart and he could feel Chris' fear and
confusion.  It was the worst, Jake thought, he felt powerless.  There was
nothing either of them could do.

     An hour later, Chris felt Jake settle into bed next to him, "Is it
better?" he asked.

     "I don't want to talk about it," Jake whispered, kissing Chris' neck.
His hands moved to Chris' stomach, sliding down to his ass, kisses more
fevered, body desperate for distraction.  "Chris, I need you," Jake
whispered.

     Jake spread his legs slowly, spitting in his hand a few times, knew
that it wasn't enough, but knew he had to get inside Chris before it got to
be too much.  Stroking himself, he felt Chris grip his shoulders, felt
their lips connect, and then felt Chris' ass stretching for his cock.  He
swallowed Chris' gasps, held him steady, and slid in, slid to where there
was nothing in his head and heart but what mattered the most.

***

     "It had happen on Friday, right?  All weekend to freak out."

     "All weekend to plan," Chris assured Jake, comforting hands on his
back.

     "I never thought we'd have to go against this," Jake said, leaning
back into Chris' arms.

     "We don't have to do anything," Chris said, "but we have to at the
same time...I'm not making any sense."

    "He'll just do something just as shitty if we let him get away with
this."  Chris and Jake both turned around at the sound of someone at the
door.  It was Celeste and Wes, their dream team.  "You called them?" Jake
asked.

     "I told her, I had to.  He was there with me when I read it."

     "We got an injunction," Celeste said, "the books haven't been printed
yet.  But this is temporary."

     "Why?  How?" Jake asked, his eyes lighting up.

     "Fictional invasion of privacy.  They didn't put the standard
disclaimer in.  It won't take long for them to fix."

     "Standard what?" Jake asked.

     "'This is a work of fiction and any resemblance between the characters
and persons living or dead is purely coincidental,'" Chris and Celeste said
in unison.  Chris finished, "It's our safety net."

     "It's what happens when you rush things," Wes said, "details fall
through the cracks."

     "He made some major mistakes," Celeste said, "names, places, it's too
specific.  It won't take much to stop him."

     Jake seemed relieved and Chris grabbed his hand, the two of them
almost managing smiles.  "Do you guys need anything to drink?  I can get
something."

     "We should go inside," Celeste said, "plan this out.  We're not taking
this lightly."

     She and Wes stepped back into the house, Jake grabbing Chris' hand as
he turned to follow them, "Chris, I appreciate this, I really do."

     "Anything," Chris said, "it's the least I could do."

     "I hate you seeing me like this," Jake whispered, pulling Chris to
him, "I..."

     "Don't say that," Chris interrupted, "you don't have to be strong all
the time.  Nobody can do that."

     "I promised to take care of you," Jake said, "I can't do that if I
can't take care of this."

     "I'll take care of you," Chris said, "I promised the same thing."

---

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