Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2007 15:13:28 -0600
From: Avy MacGregor <avymac@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jake's Cowboy Part 19

DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and
in no way represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that -
I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is
also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work
of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if
this type of content might offend you, please move onto something else.

For everyone else - ENJOY!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for tuning in everybody. Let me just reiterate that this story isn't
over yet!

A shout of appreciation goes out to the usual crew: Syd, Christopher,
Stephen, David, Al, Drew, Christian, Woo and so many others. And to Terry,
who's been a constant light - thank you, my friend.

Haven't checked out The Gyllenhaal Chronicles yet?
http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew. You'll find Jake -
pictures, stories and discussions. Come visit.

As always, email me at avymac@hotmail.com, or chat with me under the same
MSN name. Comments are always welcomed and appreciated.

And now, onto PART 19 . . .
--------------------------------------------------------------------

	The cow turned in an uncomfortable circle, drawing in a deep, cautious
breath before lowering herself to the ground, her legs bending ungracefully
beneath her pregnant belly. She remained still for a moment, large, watery
eyes staring off into nothingness, the wide expanse of pasture and the
mountains beyond providing a picturesque backdrop.
	The evening was warm, the sky turning heavy with sunset, the ticking of
crickets in the grass filling the air. I rested on my haunches, plucking at
weeds, and whispered to the mother cow, "It's okay, girl . . ." reassuring
her of my presence despite the fact that - barring any complications - my
presence there was unnecessary.
	I removed my Resistol and shifted my position slightly but remained focused
on the cow. As she stood to roam in a circle once more, I could see the hind
legs of the calf emerging. She reached back to lick at the ruptured water
sack and the hooves of her soon-to-be-born calf, and then lowered herself to
the ground once more, rolling over onto her side, her breathing becoming
slightly more labored.
	Time ticked by. I thumped a cigarette out from the pack of Camels in my
shirt pocket and lit it up, a habit that I was still far from breaking but
didn't give a damn about at that moment.
	Then I saw the face of the calf emerge, the mother giving one final push as
its shoulders popped out, the rest of its body spilling onto the ground in a
gush of birthing fluid.
	Although I had observed the arrival of these animals a thousand times over,
somehow witnessing it again never failed to intrigue me. The circle of life.
	"That's a good girl," I spoke as the mother immediately and instinctually
turned to lick her baby clean, messy afterbirth still hanging from her. The
calf shook his head and slapped his ears. It wasn't long before he struggled
to his feet, thin legs wobbling and body quivering, face nuzzling beneath
his mother's belly in search of nourishment, no need for instruction.
	I continued to watch them for a moment, lost in thoughts of life and death
and the loneliness that consumed us all, wanting to forget that my birthday
was tomorrow and that I'd be forced to celebrate it with everyone despite my
aversion to doing so. Then I snuffed out my cigarette, turned to climb back
atop Red Cloud, and coaxed him with a flick of the reigns to take us away,
leaving the mother cow and her calf to acquaint themselves with one another
until tomorrow.
	We galloped through the north pasture as the sky turned a deep shade of
purple, the chilled air piercing me straight through my thin cotton shirt,
the thunderous hoof-falls of Red Cloud thumping loudly in my ears. For the
moment, I was completely content just to ride, thinking of nothing but
flying across the ground, experiencing a freedom rarely found elsewhere in
life. I realized then that I could have easily continued on, heading high up
into the mountains without looking back - no need for food or water, just me
and the buckskin and the cool night air.
	But I refrained from doing so - feeling, as always, the dutiful son, the
dutiful brother, the steadfast Cooper boy.
	As we descended the slope towards the stables, I eased Red Cloud to a slow
trot and immediately noticed that the house was lit up like a Christmas
tree, all windows open, voices wafting across the air from the back porch. I
brought Red Cloud to a halt and hopped down, recognizing Uncle Ed's beat-up
Plymouth parked beneath the cottonwood tree - a sight that made my heart
sink a notch.
	I led the buckskin into the stables and gave him a thorough rubdown before
tucking him into his stall for the night. Then I meticulously went through
every stall to ensure that all of the horses were settled in. As I flipped
the lights off, I bid them all farewell for the night and swung the sliding
gate closed, the clank of the locking mechanism reverberating through the
night air.
	Exiting to the side of the barn, I glanced at my bunkhouse and contemplated
how I might disappear inside without anyone noticing - craving nothing more
than a shower and quiet solitary for the evening. But my mother, always the
observant one, stood on the steps of the back porch and waved and called out
to me as Derry raced across the lawn to my side.
	There would be no hiding.
	Uncle Ed sat lounging on the glider swing as I approached, his beer gut
hanging out over his tight faded blue jeans, his balding head glistening in
the exterior light. As I ascended the steps, he grumbled, "Dangerous, riding
a horse at night. You should know that."
	Always a pleasure to see you, too, I thought.
	But I didn't speak the words, just ignored him and greeted my mother
instead. "Got a calf born up in the north pasture," I commented. "About
twenty minutes ago."
	"No complications?" she inquired.
	"No." I plucked several black olives from her half-eaten dinner plate and
popped them into my mouth. "Where're Stella and Carla?"
	I hadn't seen either of the girls since the last time I'd been in Aspen -
the night that I'd met Jake.
	"They're inside with Katy," my mother responded, slapping my hand away as I
attempted to steal more food from her plate. "There's plenty of food inside.
Go get yourself something."
	With stomach suddenly growling, I followed her advice and disappeared into
the house. As I stood at the kitchen counter scooping large piles of
barbecued ribs and potato salad onto my plate, I noticed that Katy and the
girls were watching television in the family room, everything dark except
for the flickering of the large screen. While taking a bite of rib, I
wandered in, prepared to say hello to Stella and Carla, until the
realization of what they were watching hit me, and then all I could do was
choke on my food and stare.
	It was Jake, standing at the open door of an old pickup truck, his arm
draped casually over the frame. A black cowboy hat sat perched on his head;
a nasty bruise lined his cheek; a dusty wind howled around him.
	My heart was in my throat, all breath punched straight out of me as though
I'd been hit by a boulder. I stared in disbelief, listening to him speak,
watching the strained interaction between him and his companion before they
parted ways - Jake driving off in his truck looking absolutely forlorn, the
same look he'd given me just before I'd boarded the plane at LAX, our
parting more unbearable than either of us could express.
	Had I known then that we'd fall into this agonizing state of distrust and
sorrow, I'd never have gone. But our separation seemed endless now - neither
one of us willing to swallow the pride that we choked on.
	As if through a tunnel, I heard Stella and Carla call out a simultaneous
hello to me. But I remained transfixed on the screen, incapable of speech,
incapable of anything.
	"Must be strange, huh, Travis," Katy remarked, her tone instantly snide.
"Too bad you missed him getting fucked by Heath in the tent."
	I didn't give her the satisfaction of a response. Just slammed my plate
down and jumped over the couch, bounding to the television in one stride,
ejecting the movie from the DVD player and tucking it into its plastic case.
	Protests filled my ears, but I ignored them, stopping only briefly to gaze
at the front cover of the case in the dim lighting before heading to the
back door.
	Katy stood up, screaming. "What the fuck, asshole! We were watching that!"
	Again, I ignored her, slamming the door shut behind me to race down the
steps of the back porch.
	"Travis, did you even eat anything?" my mother called after me.
	I waved a hand and continued across the lawn, my pace brisk, Derry running
alongside me. Once inside the bunkhouse, I hastily flipped on a lamp and
slid the disc into the DVD player. My television was considerably smaller
than the one in the house, but I didn't give a damn at that moment - just
wanted, needed, to see Jake.
	I watched the movie in its entirety while slamming down shots of Jameson,
my head spinning through every emotion - excitement, longing, desire,
frustration, overwhelming sadness. Even after the film ended, I sat and
watched the credits slide by, tears moistening my face, my heart stretched
beyond all limits. It wasn't just seeing Jake onscreen, it was the story
itself - loving someone you couldn't love, needing someone you couldn't
have, losing the one person who meant more to you than anything else in the
world.
	Drunk and crying, I fumbled for the phone and dialed his number. When he
didn't answer, I hung up and dialed his cell. It was one, two, three, four
agonizing rings, but still he didn't answer. Through voice mail, I begged
him to call me. Told him that I was tired of playing games, that I ached for
him more than life itself, that our fate could be different from Ennis and
Jack. I was blubbering and I knew it, but still I carried on, baring my soul
to him, apologizing for being demanding and foolish, begging him to forget
about it all and come back to me.
	"Fuck, Jake . . ." I moaned, rolling off the couch onto the floor,
clutching the phone to my ear as if it held the power to bring him to me. "I
miss you .  .  ."


*	*	*	*	*

	It was a sharp nudge on my shoulder that roused me from my sleep. A voice
quietly urged, "Wake up, birthday boy,"  and as my eyes fluttered open,
daylight piercing, I squinted up to find Doug squatting on the floor beside
me, Curtis looking down over his shoulder.
	The phone was still in my hand, the receiver dead. I glanced at it,
recalling the night, and said groggily, "Are there any messages on my
machine?"
	"I don't know," Doug replied. "Expecting a call?"
	I struggled to sit up and realized that I was still fully clothed, boots
and all. The television was playing an early morning talk show in the
background.
	"Time to get up, buddy," Curtis stated. "You're delivering that painted
mare to Conifer, remember?"
	I let the phone drop to the floor and then got to my feet, a little
unsteadily. Running a hand through my hair, I grunted, "I remember," then
staggered over to the answering machine.
	Not one message lit up the digital display.
	"Mom's makin' your damn apple crepes, too," Curtis snorted, feigning
harshness, a smirk on his face. "So you better hurry up and get over to the
house before Uncle Ed eats them all."
	"Lemme shower first . . ." I mumbled, stumbling for the bathroom,
unbuckling my belt. "I feel like fuck right now."
	Before shutting the door, I heard Doug mutter, "I'll put some coffee on . .
."
	After taking a much-needed piss, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror
of the medicine cabinet and decided to shave it all off - the
five-o'clock-shadow, the goatee, everything. Just as Jake had appeared to me
in the stables after we'd spent one of our first evenings together, stating:
"It's a new day, I'll make a fresh start."
	I wanted - needed - that fresh start.
	I lingered for awhile in the shower after shaving, letting the scalding
water cascade over me, hoping it might possess the ability to wash
everything away. I should have been in a good mood, I should have been
looking forward to celebrating my birthday later on, but I just wasn't. I
wanted it to be a day just like any other day, without any bullshit or fuss.
	Thoughts of Jake whirled through my head - visions of Jack Twist, visions
of Jake as I knew him. I stroked my cock a few times, hoping to get off, but
whether due to the hangover or my emotions or a combination of both, the
drive just wasn't there. I leaned my forehead against the shower pipe for a
time, steeling myself against feeling miserable again, determined to find
the strength to prevent our separation from ruining my existence.
	Lukewarm water rapidly turned to cold, and I reluctantly shut the shower
off and pulled the curtain back, finding Doug leaning against the pedestal
sink, proffering a steaming cup of coffee. I stepped out of the tub and
accepted it, immediately taking a sip; it was strong and black and just what
I needed.
	"Well, well," he whistled, eyes passing over me. "You look good enough to
eat." Then, running a quick hand over my jaw, he added, "What's up with the
shave?"
	I shrugged. Set the mug down to retrieve my towel and began to dry off,
bemoaning the lack of equilibrium in my head.
	Doug folded his arms and smirked at me. "What in the world were you doing
last night?"
	"Watching `Brokeback' for the first time."
	"Ahhh . . . "
	"Yeah." I wrapped the towel around my waist and brushed past him to enter
into the main room. "I drank too much," I added. "Called Jake and left him a
stupid, long-winded message."
	Doug slumped down onto the couch, throwing his hands behind his head,
watching me. "Stupid how?"
	"Drunken gibberish," I replied, pulling dresser drawers open, retrieving
clothes. "Something about our fate not needing to end up like Ennis and
Jack. That we've got something better going. I don't know. Sure it was
pathetic."
	I slid into a simple rust-red t-shirt and faded blue jeans, not bothering
to dress up in light of the busy day ahead.
	"I'm sure he'll call you," Doug stated.
	I shrugged and stepped into my boots. Pulled the door open and exited
through the front porch.
	At that moment, I refused to dwell on it any longer.
	Doug and I headed to the house together, the morning sun warm and bright.
As I stepped through the back door into the kitchen, the first thing I was
confronted with was Katy smacking me on the arm, hissing, "You're
unbelievable, asshole. I don't care if it's your birthday, I demand to get
that DVD back!"
	And then Uncle Ed belching at the kitchen table, staring at his plate of
apple crepes, muttering, "What's this crap you're serving, Elaine? Some kind
of sissy food? Where's the eggs and bacon . . .?"
	And thus began the day, the day marking my birthday, the day I wished would
end as quickly and painlessly as possible.


*	*	*	*	*

	I rummaged through the refrigerator, thankful to find one last can of
Guinness. I popped it open and poured the thick brew into a glass, watching
the foam rise, taking a quick sip before it traveled down the side. Then I
leaned against the kitchen counter and took several more sips, listening to
the drone of Toby Keith in the background, accompanied by noisy
conversations of people scattered around the house.
	Although the evening was early yet, it had already become endless for me -
everyone wishing me a happy birthday while simultaneously pumping me full of
questions; no malice intended, just natural curiosity about my life. I was
resistant to say much, and although I was doing my best to appear amiable
and appreciate being surrounded by family and friends, deep down inside I
was still feeling quite sorry for myself.
	"Cooper, ba-a-a-by!"
	It was a familiar voice, a voice screeching from out of nowhere. Nathan,
newly arrived to the party, caught sight of me and hurried over. I glanced
to Doug, who held his hands up in mock innocence, implying that Nathan's
invite to the party had not been his doing.
	I attempted to disappear into the dining room, but Nathan followed,
pirouetting around the table to sidle up to me, arms outstretched. He looked
as perfectly-groomed as usual, dressed in a blue silk shirt and
neatly-pressed black trousers, a wide leather belt accentuating his trim
waist.
	"Happy Birthday, handsome," he crooned, running a finger over my jaw.
"Where've you been hiding yourself?"
	"I've been around," I responded.
	He slid his arms up around my neck and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. I
took a step back, leaning against the cherry wood hutch, rattling a few
china dishes.
	He playfully pouted, half-smiling, half-frowning. "You're such a bad boy,"
he scoffed. "Not calling me after Aspen . . . I was hoping to get together
with you; it's been such a long time . . ."
	I took another sip of my beer, hoping to appear casual and indifferent. "I
was out of town for awhile."
	"Ye-e-e-s," he sneered. "I heard. But what on earth could California
possibly have to offer that Colorado can't provide?"
	Suddenly, his index finger was tracing a line down the bridge of my nose,
stopping to linger a moment on my lips. I purposely belched, long and low,
and moved away again. "I was visiting a friend," I replied.
	Despite my insolence, he remained persistent, sliding an arm around my
waist, grasping my belt buckle. At that moment, there was no one else
around, and I was thankful for it; the last thing I wanted was for someone
to witness Nathan's typically lewd behavior.
	He wasted little time in pulling me close, his tongue lapping at the skin
just below my ear - a sensitive spot for me, which he no doubt remembered
from all those months ago when we'd last gotten together. At that moment, I
wasn't even sure why we'd ever gotten together; he wasn't the least bit my
type.
	I slithered from his embrace once more and said, "I'm with somebody, Nate."
	He frowned. Crossed his arms. Glanced around the room. "So it's true," he
muttered. "Where is the lucky bitch?"
	I set the Guinness down. "He's not here . . ."
	Saying the words out loud elicited a fresh bite of frustration in me; I
hadn't even received a simple birthday message from him yet. And although it
shouldn't have mattered, out of anyone, the salutation would have meant the
most coming from him.
	Nathan's expression softened a fraction. He touched my arm and said, "He's
a fool to leave you alone for even ten seconds, honey. If you were MY man,
I'd never let you out of me sight."
	It was not a particularly comforting thought.
	I smiled slightly. Mumbled, "Thanks," then wandered away, hoping that he
wouldn't follow, which, surprisingly, he didn't. I pushed the front screen
door open and stepped outside, leaning against the side of the house,
expelling a long, empty sigh. The sun was just starting to drop behind the
peaks. Off in the distance I could see a car coming down the long dirt road,
a plume of dust following in its wake - yet another addition to my unwanted
celebration.
	"Travis!" someone called from within the house.
	I entered back inside, finishing off the last of the Guinness. Carla found
me and said, "Telephone."
	I tried not to appear as desperate as I felt as I made my way into the
kitchen and picked up the receiver from the counter. "Hello," I said, more
gruffly than I'd intended.
	"Hey cowboy . . . happy birthday . . ."
	My heart was instantly in my throat, choking me.
	"Travis?" Jake said quietly, "You there?"
	"Y-yeah . . ." I whispered. "Shit . . ." I ran a hand through my hair.
Stared at the Formica countertop. "I didn't think you'd ever call me back."
	"Yeah I know, I'm sorry," he said. "It's been crazy here the last couple of
days. I got the lead for that movie, the one that I was telling you about. I
meant to tell you about it before, but . . ."
	"Wow, that's really great, Jake," I said, feeling genuinely happy for him
despite the hint of despondency in my voice.
	A flicker of time passed. Then Jake said, "I've missed you . . ."
	I expelled my breath, not realizing that I'd even been holding it. "Jesus,
Jake . . ." I whispered. "You have no idea . . ."
	Katy waltzed into the kitchen, plucking irritatingly at my shirt. "I see
Nathan's here," she crooned, gesturing over to where he stood with wine in
hand, now speaking to Doug.
	"Shut up," I shot at her, then moved into the pantry, stretching the phone
cord as far as it would go, only able to close the door partway.
	"You there?" Jake inquired.
	"Yeah. I just . . . Nathan's here and Katy's in my face and . . . fuck, it
doesn't matter, I just want to talk to you."
	"I know," he said. "Me too." I could hear something odd, like a
high-pitched whine in the background. Then the slamming of a door.
	I asked, "Are you home or out or . . .?"
	There was the shuffling of feet. "Home," he replied. "Just got here."
	Slowly, I slid to the floor, my back feeling every bump of the pantry
shelves as I went down. I sighed heavily. Felt the first prick of tears in
my eyes. "Jake . . ." I muttered, bringing a hand up to massage my temples.
"I'm so fucking sorry . . ."
	"I'm sorry, too," he said. I could hear him put a hand over the receiver to
speak to someone. More commotion.
	"What have you got to be sorry for?" I protested. "I was the one being a
prick . . ."
	"Where are you right now?" he suddenly asked.
	"Where am I . . .?" I glanced up at my surroundings, somewhat thrown by the
question. "In the kitchen pantry. On the floor. Feeling ridiculous."
	He chuckled. "Why are you in the pantry, Cooper?"
	"I don't know. 'Cause I'm trying to steer clear of Katy. And everyone
else."
	"Are you feeling anti-social on your birthday?"
	"Yeah, I guess so . . ."
	Suddenly, a small tricolor English Shepherd puppy nudged its way through
the partially-opened door, greeting me with an excited sniff of my boots. I
sat up. Reached out to touch it, thinking it was just a figment of my
alcohol-induced imagination, then realized that the puppy's collar was
hooked to a long leash. Slowly, I pushed the door open a fraction further
and noticed a pair of brown leather loafers greeting me. As my eyes traveled
upwards, I discovered Jake standing there, balancing gifts under one arm,
the dog leash clutched in his hand, his cell phone tucked between his ear
and shoulder.
	I was completely dumbstruck.
	"You still there?" he playfully said into his phone. His smile was
dazzling, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. He was dressed in tan
corduroys and a thin brown v-neck sweater, his jaw covered in stubble, his
hair short and perfectly messy.
	The receiver was still at my ear. I muttered, "Yeah," into it, then dropped
it to the floor and pulled myself to my feet.
	We stood looking at one another for a moment. He set the gifts down and
slid his cell phone into his pocket. "You look different," he commented.
	I rubbed my jaw. "A fresh start . . ." I mumbled.
	He smiled. "How profound." Then, pulling me into an embrace, he whispered,
"Happy birthday, babe,"  the leash still wrapped around his hand.
	Seeing him, being that near to him again, was beyond description. I buried
my face in his neck for a moment and simply inhaled him, my hands traveling
up his spine. Then I opened my eyes to discover several curious onlookers
gathered in the kitchen, observing our interaction.
	I took a step back, catching a foot on the leash, almost tripping. Laughing
nervously, I bent down to scoop the puppy up into my arms.  "And who's this
little guy?" I asked, nudging his wet nose with mine.
	"Well, I call him Spartacus," Jake replied, scratching the puppy between
his ears. "But you can call him whatever you want. He's yours."
	"Oh, yeah?" I smiled, feeling a sense of happiness for the first time in a
long time. I allowed the puppy to lick my face a couple of times, and then I
set him back down on the floor. Jake handed me the leash, grinning that
crooked grin, the one that made my heart swell.
	"Fu-u-ck . . ." I whispered. "I can't believe you're here."
	"I wasn't going to miss your birthday, Travis," he stated. "I was planning
on surprising you all along."
	As if on cue, my mother appeared from around the corner, sheet cake in
hand, candles ablaze, the birthday song commencing from the room.
	"Come on," Jake said, smiling. "Time to blow out your inferno." He turned
and led me out of the pantry,  fingers laced with mine but for a moment, the
simplest touch bringing both excitement and relief.


*	*	*	*	*

	A steady drone of cicadas filled the air as we ventured away from the
house, the activities of the party slowly drifting away until only the
sounds of the night surrounded us. Moonlight, hidden every so often behind
strands of cirrus clouds, offered muted illumination to our journey. We
walked side-by-side, sipping Coronas, holding hands, talking quietly.
	"I still can't believe that you're here," I repeated, knowing that I
sounded like a broken record but feeling the need to repeat the sentiment
anyway.
	Jake squeezed my fingers. "I wasn't going to let you celebrate this day
without me."
	I glanced at him and said, "God, I missed you . . ."
	He grinned. "I missed you, too. Such a waste of time, this separation - or
whatever it was."
	I playfully bumped into his hip, disrupting his stride. "I think I was mad
at you about something or other."
	He chuckled. Took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, I think it had something to do
with a girl."
	I turned a bit melancholy. "No," I said quietly, "it wasn't Natalie . . .
well, not entirely." I slowed my pace a fraction, eyes turned down to the
ground, no longer feeling as light-hearted as I had a moment ago. "I don't
know. I guess I just . . . thought that it should have been . . . Oh, hell,
we've had this discussion dozens of times before. Fucking stupid to bring it
up again . . ."
	Jake grabbed my arm, bringing me to a halt. In the dim moonlight, it was
difficult to determine his expression, but his eyes were focused on mine.
"Travis," he spoke. "I hope you know I never meant to hurt you with any of
that."
	"I know."
	"No," he said. "I mean it. I never intended for those rumors to start.
Natalie's just a friend."
	Again, I said, "I know."
	But he dropped his Corona bottle to the ground and pulled me fast against
him, burying his face in my neck. "God, I wish I could change it," he
mumbled. "I wish I could make things different in this fucking industry I'm
in. Maybe I should just get out, do something completely different . . ."
	"Jesus, Jake," I moaned, stepping away from him. "Don't be ridiculous.
You're too talented. I'd kill you if you decided to `do something else'."
	"I could come work for you," he suggested. "You could teach me how to
castrate cattle or something. I'd make a good cowboy."
	I grinned. "That you would. And Lord knows we could use the help around
here. But you can't turn your back on acting, Jake. It would be a waste.
Besides, what about this new movie? You can't just walk away from that."
	He sighed. Buried his hands in his pockets. Stared at the ground. "I guess
that brings us back to square one, then. You here and me there and us not
together . . ."
	"Listen," I insisted, dropping my own beer bottle to step forward and grab
his arms. "I'm so crazy about you, it's pathetic. Would you believe I slept
all night on the floor last night clutching the phone in my hand, waiting
for your call?"
	A trace of a grin crossed his face. "Well, you did sound a little tipsy in
your voice mail . . ."
	I chuckled. "Fuck, I was totally wasted. I don't even remember what all I
said."
	"Something about Jack and Ennis and fate and a lot of I miss you and love
you."
	I nodded, still smiling. "That sounds about right."
	He pulled his hands from my grip and settled them on my waist, squeezing
lightly. "I wanted to call you at least a hundred times, too," he whispered.
"I was so miserable. Everyone knew I was miserable. I'm sure that's how I
got the lead in 'High Stakes'; I blew them away with my despondent, suicidal
performance."
	I grinned devilishly. "Glad to be of help, then . . ."
	He laughed and threw his arms around me. We held tight, the crickets and
cicadas and moonlight surrounding us. After a time, I moved back and cupped
his face in my hands, my fingertips rubbing his stubble, my eyes locked with
his. "I do love you, Jake," I said. "And it's not drunken gibberish this
time."
	He said nothing at first. Just looked at me, emotions clearly running
through his head. Then he sucked in a long, quaking breath and whispered, "I
love you, too, Travis."
	I kissed him, then, long and tenderly. It felt so good, so right, to be
with there with him. Better than anything.
	We collapsed into the tall grass together - tongues swirling, legs
entwining, hands grasping. Being in the middle of a field in the middle of
nowhere held absolutely no consequence to us; the world became non-existent,
just as it always tended to do when we were together.
	 We took turns rolling on top of one another, wrestling, drowning together,
lost in unbridled yearning. At one point Jake nuzzled his face in my neck,
nibbling on my skin, muttering how good I felt and tasted.
	"Uh, you, too . . ." I whispered, running a hand up under his sweater,
touching his warm skin.
	My erection was already pressing hard against my jeans. Jake took advantage
of my condition by sitting on my lap and grinding his ass against my groin,
the heat of friction arousing me even more. I moved my hands down to grip
his corduroy-covered buttocks and gave him a hard bump; he moaned in
response, yanking my shirt collar back to lick across my collarbone.
	I prodded him to sit up, and as he did so, I unbuckled his belt, pulling
the entire strap from the loops of his pants to toss it aside, not even
remotely concerned as to where it landed. He assisted with the unbuttoning
of his fly, and in a flash his cock was out of his boxer briefs, thick and
beautiful and gleaming in the moonlight.
	"God, fuck . . ." I groaned, unable to express myself in any sort of
coherent manner. I took him in hand and slid the thick member through my
palm.
	"Fuck," he panted, gyrating deeper and harder on my groin. "Missed this,
missed you, so much . . ."
	I continued to stroke his cock for a moment, bringing it to full erection.
Then I prompted him to move forward, my hands grabbing his ass which was
still halfway in his corduroys. He scooted up the length of my torso, knees
bumping unsteadily over the ground, the constraints of his pants awkward.
When his cock plunked down against my chin, thick and hard and eager for
attention, I felt the first leak of his pre-cum smear across my skin.
Immediately, I lifted his cock up to sweep my tongue over the moist spot on
my chin, anxious to taste him. I then licked his piss-slit as well,
squeezing just beneath the ridge of his head with my thumb and forefinger,
lapping up anything that I could get.
	"Come here," I commanded, opening my mouth to take him in.
	He needed no further prompting - pushed his thick cockhead past my lips and
was soon filling up my entire mouth. I coaxed him in further until he was
shoved all the way to the back of my throat, and there he remained for a
moment, utterly still. I flexed my throat muscles, and he groaned, "Uh,
fu-u-ck . . ." fingers clutching at my hair. He eased back a little,
offering me a chance to breathe, but I guided him back in. It was like an
aphrodisiac having him in my mouth, and I didn't want to let him go.
	Slowly, he began to face-fuck me, rolling in and out of my mouth, eyes
locked with mine, our connection unyielding. I slid my hands up the front of
his sweater, brushing his chest hair, massaging his pecs, stopping to rub
his nipples between my fingers. He shuddered and threw his head back, losing
himself deep within my mouth.
	I knew that his orgasm was close; I could sense his struggle to hold on,
could hear his clipped breathing. But I didn't want him to lose it just yet,
and so I slid his cock from my mouth and rolled him off of me, laying him
back in the tall grass.
	For a moment, I lost myself in his gaze, straddled above him, holding my
breath, feeling as though  I was suspended in midair. Once more, I thought -
this is better than anything. Then I slowly released my breath and muttered,
"Love you so much," before drowning him in a deep, long kiss, my hips
rubbing against his exposed cock - thick denim chafing sensitive skin. He
shuddered and moaned in a combination of arousal and discomfort.
	We embraced each other tightly for a moment, kissing fervently, Jake's
hands running up and down my back, squeezing my ass. Then I sat up, yanking
at my own belt buckle, ripping my button-fly open, desperate to have my dick
in my hand.
	"Uh-h, yeah . . ." Jake murmured, reaching out to encircle the base of my
cock as I stroked the head. All sensations quickly escalated, and I rolled
off of his lap to pull my pants and boxers down farther. Without comment, he
slithered over to engulf my cock in his mouth.
	It was as though he'd practiced his blow job technique during our
separation - every lick, every stroke, every movement up and down on my dick
much different than I remembered. I slid my fingers through his hair,
coaxing him further down on me, pushing my hips up. He gagged, moved back,
resumed - faster and with greater determination, his fingers pulling on my
balls.
	"Fuck," I gasped, running my hands over his exposed buttocks, eventually
plunging a finger down into the valley of his ass crack. He moaned, his
mouth still full of my cock. I traveled down further until I reached his
hole - it was hot and moist and enough to send me over the edge.
	I cursed myself for not having a condom.
	Jake shoved a hand down between his legs to stroke himself. His mouth went
from my dick to my ball sac, and there he lingered for awhile, licking and
sucking and tugging on my testicles, his facial hair rasping my sensitive
skin. I shut my eyes and laid back on the cool ground, completely lost in
the sensation of everything - his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his quivering
asshole squeezing my finger.
	Then, as if a flash of lightening exploded in my head, I scrambled to my
knees and flipped him over onto his back, hoisting his legs up, his
corduroys and boxer briefs tight around his thighs. I viewed the scene in
the dim moonlight, admiring his cock, his balls, his perfect ass. Then I
leaned down to lick a trail from his cockhead to his sphincter, lingering at
his hole for awhile, flicking my tongue all around, covering him in my
saliva.
	Jake moaned and reached around to try to grasp my head in his hands. It was
undoubtedly an awkward position for him, bent in half like that with the
constraints of his pants holding him still, but he made no protests about it
- just allowed me to lick and suck on him while he lay there, expelling his
breath in short gasps.
	"Turn over," I prodded after awhile, pushing his legs to the side. He
rolled in the grass and lifted himself up onto his hands and knees - saying
nothing, doing nothing, simply waiting. I pushed his sweater up and leaned
forward to kiss his spine, traveling downwards, gliding my tongue through
the crevice of his ass once more, eventually resuming my rim-job, my hands
spreading his buttocks apart for better penetration.
	He shuddered. I yanked his pants down more, then lapped at his balls for a
moment before reaching between his legs to pull his cock back. I opened my
mouth and took as much of the thick member as I could acquire at that angle,
and he reached a hand under to touch my chin.
	"Travis . . ." he panted after a time as I continued to work on him.
	"Mmm . . ."
	"Fuckin' get in me."
	The command was unnecessary. I sat back on my haunches and slid a moist
finger into his hole, opening him up a bit. Then I spit into my palm several
times and rubbed the saliva onto my dick, lubricating myself as much as
possible. As I moved forward and pressed the head of my cock against him, he
shivered and moaned, leaning his forehead down against his forearms.
	 I pushed only partway in, stretching him open, and he hissed and arched
his back, his muscles tensing. "Uh, fuck," he breathed, pain evident in his
voice.
	I pulled out a bit. Settled there for a moment, giving him a chance to
collect himself. But he stunned me by completely pushing back on me, taking
me in, swallowing my entire length deep inside his chute.
	"Holy fuck," I growled, reaching out to grip his shoulder in order to
steady myself, my mind growing dizzy.
	"Give it to me, Cooper," he gasped through heavy breath, reaching down to
stroke himself. "I can take it."
	And so I did, taking it slow at first, reveling in the feeling of just
being wrapped inside of him. But the languid pace didn't last for long, and
soon I was clutching at his waist, thrusting in and out, giving him the
occasional love smack, feeling completely lost in the moment.
	The night closed in on us - the cicadas deafening, the air suffocating.
	I continued to pound him.
	Jake groaned and writhed and prompted me on, muttering unexpected phrases
like, "Yeah, fuck me, cowboy," and "Want your cum deep inside me," which all
made it impossible for me to hold back.
	I wanted to wait, I wanted to make it last, but it had simply been too
long. I was shooting my load before I knew it, burying myself deep within
him, clutching a handful of his sweater in my fist as my dick throbbed. We
groaned and panted and moved together, and I landed on top of him, feeling
as though every ounce of energy had just drained from my dick straight into
his ass.
	Jake continued to stroke himself, rapidly closing in on his own orgasm,
muttering, "Don't stop . . . keep fucking me."
	I pulled his head back to kiss him and slowly pushed in and out of his
chute once more, my cum fully lubricating everything now, drops of it
dribbling out.
	"You're a mess," I whispered breathlessly, clutching his hair, licking his
lips.
	"Uhh," he gasped, stroking himself faster. "Gonna . . . cum . . ."
	I continued to penetrate him, grinding my hips and thrusting in deeply
until he groaned and shuddered and began to shoot. I ceased movement and
reached down to gather some of the cum on my hand before it fell into the
grass. As I licked my fingers clean, I mumbled, "Shame to waste it."
	"Ah, shit," Jake groaned, struggling to regain his composure, his body
still heaving beneath me, his head hanging low.
	I pulled his face up to meet mine and kissed him once more, and then I
slowly pulled out from the confines of his asshole. We both groaned at the
separation, neither one of us wanting to disconnect, the night air suddenly
cool on our exposed body parts.
	Jake stayed where he was for a moment, forehead to the ground, while I sat
back and pulled my boxers and jeans up, buttoning the fly, trying to adjust
to what just transpired.
	Eventually, Jake turned over and sat straight down into the grass, pants
still bunched up around his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. In the
moonlight, I could see sweat glistening off of his face and neck.
	"Man, that was good," he stated.
	I nodded. "The best." Then I added quietly, "Shouldn't have done it that
way, though."
	Jake just looked at me.
	"It was careless," I said.
	He got to his feet and pulled his pants up. "I'm not worried."
	I stood up as well. "Well, that's good, but that's not the point."
	He finished straightening himself out and pulled me into a hug. "Stop it,"
he whispered. "It was awesome. Don't spoil it."
	I reciprocated his embrace and kissed his earlobe. "Okay," I said. "I won't
spoil it. It WAS awesome. Better than ever."
	He stepped back, grinning. "That's more like it, cowboy." Then he turned
and shuffled through the grass in search of his belt.
	"You'll never find it," I stated. "I'll look for it in the morning."
	He rummaged around a moment longer and then gave up. "Guess you're right.
I'm sure we'll find it when the sun's up."
	I placed my hands on my hips. "Does this mean you're staying the night with
me?"
	Jake appeared surprised by my comment. Taking a step closer, he grabbed my
hand and said, "Of course I am. And the next night. And the next night, too.
If you'll have me."
	I cocked an eyebrow. "What?"
	"Only if it's okay with you. I mean, `High Stakes' won't start until July,
and I'd much rather be here, or anywhere, with you, than be home alone in
L.A."
	I just looked at him for a moment, dazed. Then I tackled him to the ground,
holding him so tight neither of us could breathe. As we trampled through the
grass together, lips intermittently touching, I whispered, "This is the best
birthday ever . . ."
	He grinned and laced his fingers through my hair. "It's good for me, too,
and it's not even my birthday."
	I rolled on top of him. Gazed down into his eyes. "I love you . . ."
	He smiled. "Love you too . . ."
	The moon disappeared behind the clouds. The night encompassed us like a
blanket. And I drowned him in a kiss once more.


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Brokeback Mountain copyright 1997 by Dead Line, Ltd. / 2005 Focus Features
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