Date: Sun, 3 Jun 2018 12:24:46 -0700
From: christopher <breakingthroughstory@gmail.com>
Subject: breaking through 23

A very big thank you to all of the readers who have taken the time to send
kind messages for the story. I very much appreciate it.  Please send any
feedback, complaints, and correspondence to breakingthroughstory@gmail.com.

The usual disclaimers apply. This is fiction.

Please donate to Nifty.  http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.

Chapter 23

"We're going to be late," Chris said from the bathroom. He was doing his
best to make his hair behave, but wound up running his fingers through it
and letting it do its own thing.

"I don't care," Armie said, not bothering to even look up from the task at
hand. He was cutting the end off of a cigar out on the balcony and set
about lighting it, the heady scent of tobacco and resin wafting out into
the open air. "I just told them we were on our way."

"Very funny," Chris said as he walked from the bathroom to the closet. He
was still only half-dressed and though Armie could say he was further
along, the cigar break may not have been the best idea. It would be at
least half an hour now. Chris slipped his black dress shoes on and pulled a
white button-up shirt off its hanger. This wasn't the time for
creativity. "It started half an hour ago."

"It'll take longer than that just to get there," Armie said. "So there's no
point in rushing."

"By the time we get there, everyone will be drunk."

"Unlikely," Armie said before taking a few slow puffs. "Don't exaggerate."

Chris went out to the balcony to join his husband, rolling his eyes at the
sight of Armie leaning back in a chair, his feet up as he smoked. "Don't
get a big head or anything, but people are expecting us."

Armie grinned and tapped at his phone, filling the bedroom with The
Psychedelic Furs' "Love My Way."

"C'mon," Chris said, offering an outstretched hand. Armie tapped off his
cigar before setting it down in its ashtray. He grabbed Chris' hand and
pulled, bringing Chris down to his lap. Their lips met and Chris worked to
button up Armie's shirt, doing the exact opposite of what he'd normally do
in this situation. Armie tasted like smoke, smelled amazing, and looked as
good as Chris had ever seen him.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Armie asked.

"It's a party for us, it would be really rude of us not to show up."

"Who sets up a party the day after opening night?"

"That would be your mom," Chris said, reminding Armie that his mom was in
charge of everything having to do with the charity. "And that would by why
we're not there yet, right?"

"Are you wearing a tie tonight?" Armie said, changing the subject
immediately.

"Nope," Chris said, buttoning the top buttons of Armie's shirt. "But
according to your stylist, you are."

"Okay," Armie sighed. "I guess we should get going. But when we get there,
let's just say hi to everyone and head out. Just get in and out."

"We'll have to get In-N-Out if we miss dinner."

Armie stubbed out the cigar, hoping that it would be fine left out in the
open. He'd get back to it later. "Alright, alright," he said as Chris got
off of him. "Let's do this."

It took 45 minutes, even though both of their phones said it would only
take half an hour. And while not everyone was drunk, Chris and Armie could
tell that a few people did have too much to drink and that a few may have
already left. As soon as they entered the party, held on the rooftop of the
Ace Hotel in Downtown L.A., Chris could feel a sense of relief sweep over
the entire crowd. Now that the guests of honor had arrived, they could
celebrate without guilt.

Together, they made a beeline to Dru, giving her a hug as she congratulated
the both of them. The play, which Chris had based on "American Made," had
already sold out every one of its dozen scheduled showings, raising plenty
of money for the Hammer Foundation. Armie had directed the production,
happy to have one more joint project to their shared name.

"It was wonderful," Dru said. "I may not agree with your politics, but I
can't deny how beautiful that story is."

Armie's arm went to its usual place around Chris' waist. "Thanks, mom. That
means a lot coming from you."

"I have to say hi to my editor," Chris said. "Excuse me. It was great to
see you, Dru."

"Chris," she said. "Keep up the good work. It's wonderful."

Chris slipped away, grabbed a bottle of tonic water from a passing waiter,
and gave his regards to David before setting himself up at the edge of the
party with the L.A. skyline surrounding him. The sense of accomplishment
felt great and he let himself enjoy it instead of going with his usual
M.O. and wondering what to do next.

"I think they were about to put the chairs up on the tables," Sebastian
said, joining his friend.

"We weren't that late," Chris said. "Putting everything together has been
really stressful."

"I'm glad you don't let work get in the way of Taco Tuesday."

"You cancel way more Taco Tuesdays than I do."

Armie wasn't surprised that Chris ducked out of the conversation with his
mother, but he was surprised at just how many people wanted to talk to
him. He always saw this as more of a passion project for Chris, but as per
usual, Armie's involvement took more than its fair share of the
spotlight. His strategy of spending as little time as possible at the party
wasn't fleshing out like he wanted, but the passed hors d'oeuvres were
better than he expected, too. He shoved a few in his mouth between
conversations, inching closer and closer to Chris after every compliment
and ultra-short conversation.

"Did you read any of the reviews?" Sebastian asked.

"David told me that everyone was very positive," Chris said. "But I felt
good about it, which is what matters. I'm not really a playwright. I needed
a lot of help. It's not my thing."

"I thought you'd written them before."

"I needed a lot of help then, too. There's a whole team of people helping
me with so much. They deserve a lot more credit than they get. Jake's mom
basically taught me how to write a screenplay. David helped me find a guy
to help with this play. All I have is big ideas."

Sebastian squeezed Chris' shoulder, "Big ideas seem to be all you
need. You're doing just fine."

"Someone's going to figure out I'm a hack pretty soon," Chris joked.

"Friends!" Armie said, wrapping his arms around both Sebastian and
Chris. "Did you see that they're passing around tiny fish tacos?"

"Did you see that there's no actual sit-down dinner?" Chris said. "We're
going to have to get burgers after all." He reached up and straightened
Armie's tie, rubbing his chest after everything looked tidy.

"Is there a big cartoon check or something involved tonight?" Armie
asked. "What are we waiting for?"

"You just got here," Sebastian reiterated. "At least take me with you."

"No, no. Not yet," Chris said. "We were joking about pulling an Irish
goodbye earlier but I don't think we need to."

Armie scanned the crowd. It was thinning and he could see a few people
waving goodbye and offering up hugs. The party was winding down, no doubt
about it. Maybe everyone was sick of celebrating them. They'd been busy,
after all. It wouldn't be surprising if everyone were growing tired of it
all.

"Are things better with your mom?" Chris asked, reaching down to hold
Armie's hand.

"Getting there," Armie said before taking a sip of water. "It's going to be
a process."

"It's easy to forget how cool it is downtown," Chris said. "The last time I
was here was when you were showing me your family's building. It's
different at night."

Sebastian and Armie looked around, soaking in the lights shining against
the night sky, the instantly recognizable silhouettes of the buildings, and
the quiet hum of the city around them. "I've never written anything about
L.A.," Chris said. "Isn't that weird? I've lived here long enough, you'd
think it would creep in somewhere."

"You have a thing for rural America and Route 66," Armie said. "And
Japan. And San Francisco."

"I never felt like L.A. was very welcoming," Chris said. "But now, after
everything, it does feel like home."

"Make sure to glorify the unbearable traffic, the income gap, and the fact
that just about everyone who comes here gets their dreams shattered,"
Sebastian added, tossing his arm over Chris' shoulders. "Now, let's get
some burgers."

"Veni, Vidi, Venezia," Chris read aloud. "That's a ridiculous headline. I
don't think that even makes sense if you translate it."

"Pictures look good though," Armie said, grabbing the copy of
"Architectural Digest" from Chris' hand and scanning the spread. They were
out on the patio, soaking in the early morning sunlight as Chris looked
over the magazine feature, which had been the very first time they'd ever
been officially photographed together. The magazine wanted to feature the
house, but they were a package deal. Armie flipped through the story,
looking over each photo. "Yeah, you look great."

"The house looks great," Chris said, correcting him. It had been a huge
production and while they were instructed to "look natural," Chris could
see just how posed and forced they were in every snapshot. How often did
Chris sit on the kitchen island, barefoot with his chinos rolled up just so
as Armie poured him coffee from a French press? Never. They both drank
pour-over. And Armie never leaned against the stairs, but there he was,
looking handsome in a button-up that showed the perfect amount of chest
hair. For anyone that wasn't present for the photo shoot, it looked like
the perfect California fantasy. Views of the canal, fuchsia bougainvillea
blooming along the walkway wrapped around the house, an overflowing dish of
oranges and lemons sitting on the coffee table -- it was all too good to be
real.

"Did Nick tell us this was the first two-story Spanish-style home built on
the canals?" Chris asked.

"Maybe we forgot. We might have fallen in love with the views and not heard
anything that he said," Armie explained.

"Are we a 'Hollywood power couple'?" Chris asked. By now, he'd moved so
that they could look at the magazine together and ended up practically
sitting in Armie's lap.

"Yes. That I can confirm," Armie said, letting out a soft laugh. "Look how
amazing all your awards look, even out of focus." He hated to think about
it, but he knew that his mom would be reading the article, looking at these
same photos. He hoped it would do something to impress her, especially
since she hadn't made any effort to see the house or spend time with him
outside of the social events that he always felt obligated to attend. After
his first marriage had started to fizzle out, he and Elizabeth had held off
as long as they could until divorcing. But the distance was there. She
moved on. Armie did, too, only his actions didn't quite align with his
mom's hopes and expectations. Chris wasn't her idea of an ideal
partner. The relationship wasn't something that would be in the pages of
"Town & Country." Except, by now, it was. Dru just decided to ignore it.

Chris let Armie take hold of the magazine while he settled in beside him,
maneuvering their bodies together so that they were laying on the chaise
beside each other instead of on top of one another. Chris turned to his
Kindle while Armie continued to scrutinize the article.

"Look at this tiny shot of the Santa Barbara house," Armie said, pointing
to an inset photo and purposely avoiding the word "your." It was theirs
now. Next to the grandeur of their Venice house, it looked like a
dollhouse. It was certainly charming, but definitely not something worthy
of the pages of "AD." Chris wondered why the writer even mentioned it,
especially since the photo didn't even have a caption. They'd had almost
all of the furniture from the old glass house moved to Santa Barbara. Even
though they'd been in the new house for a while, it was still slightly
strange to Chris not having his usual midcentury-inspired furniture
around. It didn't really fit with the look the cottage either, but Chris
was finally thinking about renovating the inside and getting things a
little less stuffy.

"Way to put things in perspective," Chris said. Past and present didn't
seem to fit together, but he was making do. He fiddled with his wedding
band for a few second before turning his attention back to his
e-book. Armie stroked at his arm, taking in the rest of the article as
salty air wafted over them.

"Are you going to nap or read?"

"Read," Chris said.

"I don't believe you."

"This book is complicated," Chris said.

"Why are you even reading Stephen Hawking?"

"Respect."

Armie chuckled, pulling Chris closer. "This is what I've always
wanted. This life you showed me."

"I haven't showed you anything," Chris said, his eyes focused on his
Kindle. "This is just the life we have."

Armie kissed the back of Chris' neck, his beard scratching at the
skin. "This is a very charmed life. Being married to you is the best thing
that's ever happened to me."

"Stop being so sentimental," Chris said. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Your books are deeply emotional, raw, and revealing," Armie said, a hint
of NPR radio host coming to his voice. "But that's not you. At least not
right now."

"Don't quote my own reviews to me," Chris said. "I haven't let that many
people in. You'll take what you get and you'll like it."

Armie laughed, rolling the two of them back over, so that Chris was on his
back and Armie was kneeling between his legs. "I love you. I love you more
than anything."

"I love you, too, Armie," Chris said. He reached up to stroke his cheek,
smiling wide as he pulled Armie down, their noses grazing and their
foreheads touching. "Opening up isn't easy for me -- except when I'm with
you. Then, it's less miserable."

"You always know the right things to say," Armie said.

The bright, golden sunshine made everything extra-saturated, from the green
of the low hedge that surrounded the patio to the rippling blue of the
water just a few yards away. Chris let out a slow breath and smiled. There
was so much to be happy about at that moment that he just wanted to let it
all soak in. Armie's kiss brought him back to the here and now. With a
reality that bordered on fairy tale, there was no reason to be anywhere
else.

Nobody was more surprised to get a message from Jake than Armie. He would
never describe their situation as a friendship. Instead, he thought of it
as friendly. Necessary because of the circles that Armie and Chris moved
in, but not anything that he'd sought to nurture. He wasn't sure, then, why
he was pulling his TaylorMade driver out of the trunk and walking towards
the driving range knowing that Jake Gyllenhaal would be inside.

"Hey, man," Jake said when he spotted Armie, which was never difficult. He
didn't look nervous, but his body language said otherwise. "Thanks for
coming out."

"No, thanks for asking," Armie said, reaching to shake Jake's outstretched
hand. It was awkward for the both of them. "Do you golf?" Armie asked.

"Not actual golfing, but I like to hit balls. It's good to get rid of
pent-up energy."

"Same," Armie said, feeling a wave of relief go from his head down to his
toes. "I haven't done it in a while." Jake was cordial and warm, which
Armie appreciated. Their past interactions were always polite and civil, so
he wasn't expecting things to be different now. What was different was the
fact that Chris wasn't there. Jake's email had been clear about one thing:
he wanted Armie to come alone.

Jake pulled his baseball cap off, adjusting his hair underneath before
putting it on again. He set down the pail of golf balls between the two of
them and locked eyes with Armie again. "Congratulations on the play. On
everything, really. I'm always congratulating you when we meet up."

"Thanks," Armie said, grabbing a few of the balls and tossing them onto the
turf at his feet. He lined one up on the tee and stepped back, getting into
position. Small talk was something they both had to do for work, so Armie
was skipping it. This situation didn't call for formalities. "Are we here
to talk about what I think we are?"

He assumed that this was the crux of the whole meet-up. He thought that
something would come up, knowing that Jake did all of Chris' books, but
nothing had materialized until now. He was waiting for Jake to bring it up.

"I can't say that I wasn't disappointed when I never got the call to record
the book," Jake said, swinging his driver, lobbing the ball out wide. "I
thought he'd still want me to."

Armie didn't say anything, just casually swinging his own club, sending a
ball flying through the air past the 150-yard marker. Chris did have a
thing for consistency, but he was also the author with three last names, so
there was an argument against that consistency, too. Armie had run the
scenario in his head a million different ways by now. Talking through it at
a driving range was not one of the ways he thought it'd happen.

"I think I've been a little disenchanted by what I thought was going to
happen with everything. Part of me thought that things would be the same
apart from living together. I honestly believed that we'd still see each
other regularly."

"I don't think that's what happens with anyone," Armie said. Another swing
and both of their eyes followed the path of Armie's ball. "I haven't talked
to my ex at all since I signed the papers." There was another bout of
silence between them. No words, the only sound coming from Armie and Jake
was the swing the club and the crack that came when metal came into contact
with plastic.

"I figured that since our relationship was so unorthodox, our divorce would
be, too," Jake said. He watched as Armie swung a few more times. Armie was
nervous, but thankful for the activity at hand, which kept them from having
to talk for long periods of time.

"If you want me to talk to him about the audiobook, I will. I don't want to
overstep," Armie finally said.

"No," Jake said. He swung again. "He's made up his mind and we both know
how stubborn he is. Can be. No, is. He's stubborn."

"You'd be surprised," Armie said. He shot off one, two, three more balls
and stood up to look over at Jake.

"It's not just that," Jake continued. He pulled his hat off and set it
down. He leaned against the half-wall opposite of Armie and sighed. "I'm
seeing someone. Things are going really great, but no matter what, I keep
thinking that I made a mistake with Chris."

"We've all felt that," Armie said.

"Right. But it's obvious that Chris is using all of this conflict in a good
way. His book was great and original and I get that. I'm glad he's using
everything he's going through in a constructive way. I just want to know
if...I don't know...does he ever talk about how hard it is?"

"He hasn't for a while," Armie said sincerely. "It hasn't been easy, if
that's what you're asking."

"But you managed to put him back together after I broke him."

"No, he did that himself."

"My sister likes to remind me that Chris and I were kids when we got
together. There's no way we could have lasted forever. We had a good run."

"I don't think my ex-wife could even think of the things you're saying,"
Armie said. "It was messy and I don't think we could even speak to each
other in any sort of polite way at this point."

"We're...cordial," Jake said, his brow furrowing. "I wouldn't say we're
friends, but maybe soon I'll be able to talk to him without remembering how
I shattered him."

"He'd like that, I'm sure," Armie said. He reached into his bag for bottles
of water and handed one to Jake. "I don't want any bad feelings between any
of us. We're adults. It's not impossible."

"Honestly, I can't think of a better guy for him," Jake said. "My sister,
my nieces, I only hear good things from them."

"Should I tell him about this talk?"

"You think he'll even believe that it even happened?"

"I almost don't. Neither of us is very good at golf."

Jake took a long sip of water. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, because
Jake definitely was, but Armie found himself more drawn to the conversation
and openness than the blue eyes and crooked smile. Chris had never talked
about their courtship and most of the articles that Armie had read glossed
over those early days, too. He wondered what drew Chris in during those
early days. He wondered if Jake thought the same thing about him. It wasn't
difficult to draw comparisons -- just about every weekly tabloid had
already done it -- but there was no way to see what Jake really thought.

"I'd say that we should go for a drink, but we both drove."

"I'd take you up on it," Armie said, not sure if he believed his own
words. He knocked a ball around with his club, rolling it back and forth on
the turf. "Listen. If you're looking for some real closure, you'll have to
get it from him."

"In an ideal world, maybe," Jake said. "I'm taking it a day at a time. Some
are better than others. Maybe if you two stopped getting seen all over
L.A. or maybe if the internet slowed down for just a few hours, it would be
easier for everyone. It's hard."

"It's not as impossible as it seems," Armie said. He hit one more ball, a
dud that landed somewhere near the 25-yard sign. "It'll take time. You know
him better than I do, maybe more than I ever will. So, you know that it all
just takes time." Armie leaned over the partition and gave Jake's shoulder
a squeeze. "Thanks for this." He was glad that there was a half-hour drive
ahead of him. It would take at least that long to process what had happened
and figure out exactly what to tell Chris.

"Did he buy back the rights to his book?"

"No, I just have film rights," Jake said. "And the play was for charity. It
would have been a dick move for me to ask for that dollar back."

"So, he wasn't joking. A dollar."

"One dollar."

"One dollar. Wow. This guy. Is he ever going to stop surprising me?"

"Not if he's the guy I know."

"You cooked for me," Armie said as he walked into the kitchen. It felt like
he'd been gone forever, but his watch confirmed that his afternoon errand
really only took a few hours. He tossed his keys and wallet into a shallow
bowl set out just for the task of emptying pockets and noticed that all the
doors were open and a cool, gentle breeze was wafting into the house

"Yeah, just don't look in the garbage. I don't know where those boxes came
from," Chris said, letting out a soft laugh before Armie kissed him. "Just
warming it back up. You smell like grass."

"Is this from the place on Abbot Kinney?" Armie asked as he picked a grape
tomato out of the salad. Chris was dutifully slicing a cut of meat that
looked to be fresh from the oven. Armie grabbed an avocado from their stash
on the counter and started to reach for a knife, but Chris stopped him.

"I remembered to ask for extra dressing this time," Chris said. "Go sit
down, I can be domestic for once." He pulled a beer out of the refrigerator
and handed it to his husband, "Go, go. Relax. I can handle an avocado."

"Alright, alright. No complaints here," Armie said, striding out to the
patio, where he saw a few candles lit and a small cheese platter set out,
the tiny crackers already stacked with slices of white and orange
cheeses. They ate out there more often than they did in the house, so the
setup wasn't that much of a surprise. Armie sat down, leaned back, and took
a long sip of beer, glancing back inside to see Chris plating their
entrees, a look of focused concentration on his face as he placed pork
tenderloin beside heaps of salad. Armie started on the cheeses, knowing it
was more for him than Chris anyway. He was more about dessert than
appetizers. Armie was the opposite -- he'd never met a starter he didn't
want to try. They'd made entire meals out of chicken satay and eggrolls at
Thai restaurants or skewered meats at Japanese yakitori restaurants.

Armie smiled as he saw Chris run his fingers through his hair before
carrying the two plates out, carefully setting them down on the table. "So,
this is sort of a celebration. I am negotiating -- well...David is -- a
deal with PBS. They want me to do a special or maybe even a series where I
check out creative writing programs for young people all around
California," he said as he sat down beside Armie. "I would interview Dave
Eggers in San Francisco and the Writers Group out here. Go to a retreat out
in Ojai. Different things."

"That's incredible," Armie said, wrapping his arm around Chris' shoulder
and kissing his temple. It would be something new for him and Armie was
excited to see him take it on. With appearances on the radio and at big
events under his belt, he was getting more comfortable with talking about
himself and his work. It was a huge jump to actually be on television, but
Armie knew Chris could do it. He'd been spotlight-adjacent for so long,
coming in and out of the public eye often enough that people knew who he
was, it seemed natural that he'd come into his own.

"I was just going to write about it, but David built on that idea and said
it could be a front-of-camera thing," Chris continued, the words speeding
up as his excitement built. "And then, I thought that we could do some of
it together, because I actually talked to your mom and she promised that
the Hammer Foundation would underwrite the entire thing. She said it was
her wedding gift to us."

"That's really incredible," Armie said again. "She's not all bad. Or, she's
trying not to be."

"Yeah, I've been working on it for a few weeks, but I didn't think it would
actually go through. Your mom and I talked about it at the after-party,"
Chris held up his glass of water, clinking it against Armie's beer. "New
adventures, here we come."

"It sounds really, really great," Armie said, rubbing Chris' shoulder. "I
didn't know anything about it. You didn't say anything."

"I didn't think it would happen," Chris said. It had been an idea for so
long Chris had almost forgotten about it. But when the theater reserved an
entire day of the play's performances -- the matinee and evening shows --
for young writers from all over Southern California, he remembered again
and worked to flesh it out. David thought it was great, PBS thought it was
great, and as long as someone partnered with production to offset the cost,
it was definitely something that the network would support. Then, when the
pieces were coming together, Chris finally asked Dru if she knew
anyone. Her charity network was huge, Chris knew that much, but he never
imagined she'd take it on herself. He was hoping for a few phone numbers
and got the jackpot, instead.

"We should have gone out to celebrate," Armie said, motioning at the food,
the patio, and the familiar surroundings of their own home. A huge
accomplishment deserved better.

"No, this is perfect," Chris said, thoroughly enjoying every bite of food
and every time Armie's knee brushed his own. "This is exactly how it should
be."

Chris took a deep breath, biting down on the sheets as his fists balled
tight. He tried to keep his breathing even, but it was a struggle with
Armie's tongue and fingers working wonders on his asshole. He could smell
laundry detergent on the bedclothes as he did his best to keep from
whimpering too loud, but as Armie tapped on his prostate and licked at his
ring, his efforts weren't winning. Sharp sounds came from his throat and
his cock dripped, a steady stream of pre-cum leaking as Armie pulled at his
balls and stroked him with a loose grip, all the while lapping at his
hole. Chris had already cum, shooting into Armie's mouth moments ago, but
he didn't even recall going soft as Armie flipped him over, his slack body
pliable and willing to go along with anything that Armie had in mind. Chris
arched his back and spread his knees even further apart, the motions met
with an appreciative grunt from Armie. Chris felt lips and tongue on his
hole, unrelenting as his elbows were on the verge of buckling again.

Armie's lips traveled up, kissing a line up Chris' spine, tracing along
each bump on the way to his shoulder. He smiled, stroking himself with a
lube-slick hand as he nibbled at Chris' skin, kissing the bloom of pink
left by his teeth. Armie lined himself and pushed through the tight ring of
muscle, eliciting a long, drawn-out groan from Chris, the sound low as it
rumbled through his chest. Armie stayed buried balls-deep, fully sheathed
in the tight warmth of Chris' chute, feeling along Chris chest with one
hand and holding himself up with the other, clasping Chris' own hand on the
bed. He felt Chris squeezing around him, clamping down and clenching as he
breathed, Armie's lips moving to the back of his neck.

Chris rocked slightly struggling with the stretch and the pain, biting down
on his lip as he fucked himself on Armie's length, working a few thick
inches in and out, his jaw tight as he felt the rub and burn. He grunted
softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as Armie moved his hips,
the sound of slick, sweaty skin replacing his own groans. Armie's hands
were on his waist, pulling and pushing him back and forth as he drove his
dick in and out, pumping with long, steady strokes.

Armie pulled Chris up, their lips connecting as Armie's chest came into
contact with Chris' back, sweat-slick skin moving together as Armie's
tongue slid into Chris' mouth. Chris felt hands all over him, his entire
body tingling in the familiarity of feeling completely overwhelmed inside
and out. One second, Armie's hands were on his neck and chest, the next,
down to his abs, adding a playful stroke or tug at his balls and
cock. Their lips stayed locked together, the backwards angle leaving Chris'
neck craned, a prime position for Armie to squeeze his throat to hold him
steady, his hips driving in deep and strong. Chris shuddered, his breath
catching with one particularly forceful thrust, his body almost falling
over the edge again.

Slowing down his hips, Armie stayed in deep, reveling in the feeling on his
cock, the fluttering squeezes and sudden tightness coming together, drawing
a deep ache in his own balls. Chris was completely open to him, every inch
of him available for mouth and hands, every move pulling a moan or gasp
from Chris' lips. Armie latched onto Chris' neck again, pumping in steady,
building a rhythm as he heard the slap of Chris' cock against his abs, his
balls drawn up tight.

Armie pressed his hand into Chris abs, sliding it down and squeezing his
ring finger and thumb around the base of Chris' dick. His hips worked
faster, slamming in against Chris' ass with every thrust, his makeshift
cockring adding to the already-intense sensations running up and down
Chris' body. He shut his eyes tight, barreling towards his own orgasm as he
struggled to maintain control. His body moved on its own accord, hips
slamming forward, his arms pushing Chris down to his hands, one leg coming
up for leverage as he hammered in. Chris unspooled under him, cumming hard,
his body shaking under Armie's. His hole got tighter, practically choking
Armie's dick as he ground in hard, pushing as deep as he could go before
shooting his own load, grinding in as he shot, a deep groan filling the
room.

Collapsing on top of Chris' body, Armie nibbled at his ear and rubbed his
nose against the back of Chris' neck. He felt Chris' body relax underneath
him, a contented sigh escaping his lips. Armie pulled Chris close as he
rolled off of him, their limbs in a tangle of sweaty skin and crumpled
sheets.

The Venice Beach Public Library wasn't the prettiest or most historic
building around, but Chris appreciated how close it was to the house. A few
blocks was all it took to get him to a calm, quiet place with the same
familiar library smell that he remembered from his childhood. Books, Scotch
tape, and a combination of old paper and new plastic: it was all
there. He'd just dropped off a huge box of donations, books that didn't
quite fit in the office's built-in bookshelves and ones that publishers had
sent to him, hoping to get a quote or two for a new author's book. He took
slow steps up and down the library aisles, running his fingertips over the
books and soaking in the atmosphere. Old favorites were sitting alongside
new friends, hardcover editions that Chris could remember from high school
and college sat unchanged. He'd been slow to adopt digital books and now
he'd be hard-pressed to go anywhere without his Kindle, but there was
something about actual books that held a certain magic.

Fiction gave way to non-fiction, where Chris spent very little
time. Cookbooks sat alongside history books. He'd just finished a book on
astrophysics an even though it was intended for a wide audience, he still
felt his head spinning at the concepts he'd been exposed to. Fiction was
the place for him, he decided. He could appreciate all the hard work that
went into researching something like a look at WWII, but he'd leave that to
the pros.

"There you are," Armie said, his voice low, as he saw Chris round a
corner. "You said you'd be right out."

"Sorry, got distracted."

"Yeah, I figured. You knew I wasn't going to wait in the car."

Chris blushed, reaching out to rub at Armie's forearm. "Give me a few
minutes."

"Take your time," Armie said before kissing Chris' forehead. "I'll be
around."

Back among the shelves, Chris let himself daydream again, his brain
bouncing ideas around as he zigzagged through the various sections of the
library. He saw Armie on his phone, sitting in the young adult area, which
was completely deserted at the moment. Of course, Chris made sure his books
were in their proper place, chuckling at seeing the old covers again. A few
looked tattered, like they'd been checked out a million times. Others had
dog-eared pages and one looked almost destroyed, with coffee stains warping
entire sections of the book. He made a mental note to get a new copy sent
over. Straightening up the section -- and the few books that were filed
under the letter G, thankful that his various last names were just steps
apart -- as best as he could, he wandered back over to Armie.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Armie asked as Chris approached.

"I wasn't looking for anything specific," Chris said. "But every writer
looks for their books. It's an instinct."

"That's when you usually find what you need," Armie said, getting up on his
feet. In this part of the library, the bookshelves were only half as high
as in the adult area, making Armie look even taller than he was.

"Thanks for indulging me," he said as he felt Armie wrap an arm around his
waist.

Chris tapped an email out on his phone as the two of them walked out, the
familiar swoosh sound of a sent message coming as soon as they stepped over
the threshold. "There's probably a lot of good that the show can do," Chris
said. "For literacy, for libraries, for kids and schools. We need to make
sure that it's doing as much as possible."

"That's probably why my mom wanted to get the foundation involved. It's a
passion project for you, so she wants to help out. It makes her look good,
too."

He didn't know if they were requests or demands, because it seemed to blur
when he typed them out. David was making sure that the show was what Chris
wanted, just a way for young writers to get a little bit of mentorship and
to give everyone out there a clearer idea of what being a writer really
was. Sure, there was a lot of time spent in coffee shops and a fair share
of creative expression that looked like self-indulgence, but it was a
business, too. He wished someone had told him that at the beginning. It was
as much about selling a story as crafting it, but there was a huge
possibility of losing sight of everything in the process, which was often
why so many people quit.

Armie could almost hear the gears turning in Chris' head. Ideas were
floating around, coming in and out of focus at a rapid-fire pace and Chris
was doing his best to figure them out. Armie had seen it plenty of
times. Notebooks filled with text and scribbles, words crossed out just as
often as they weren't. He was familiar with the diagrams, storyboards, and
flow charts that would turn the most logical man into a maniac. There was a
shoebox full of Post-It notes that Chris had finally thrown away during the
move. It was, he explained, an experiment gone wrong.

Chris reached for Armie's hand over the gearshift, not even realizing that
he'd done it as he tapped on his phone with his free hand. Armie treasured
the moment like he always did, filing the memory away and smiling as he
turned onto Abbott Kinney. The street was buzzing, which was great for the
shoppers, but they made for a snail-like pace as Armie drove. Chris thumb
ran over Armie's knuckles, absentmindedly going up and down the peaks and
valleys as they inched closer to home.

"She owes us for donating so much of the money from the play to the
foundation," Armie said. "Did you think of it that way?"

"No," Chris said. "I'm not that cynical."

"Technically, the play paid for the show."

"Stop," Chris said. "Let me enjoy this."

Armie silenced his voice, but he didn't keep his mind from wandering. He
didn't want to taint the success of the play by adding on an unwanted layer
of dread on top of it. If Chris was going to look at the situation through
rose-colored glasses, Armie would let him. He'd do his best to let things
happen, but if his mom was going to keep Chris from realizing this, there'd
be no hesitation. He'd step in if he had to, but Armie hoped against all
hope that it wouldn't come to that.

Feedback: breakingthroughstory@gmail.com