Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2007 22:37:03 -0700 From: christopher. Subject: breaking through part 37 Breaking Through Usual disclaimers apply, this is all fiction. No implications are made about the celebrities mentioned. This is intended for adults, so if you're not allowed to read this, don't do it. Author's Note: head on over to the Gyllenhaal Chronicles site for the latest on this story and the other Jake stories on Nifty. It's a great place and I'm really grateful for all the people I've met there. Sign up at http://groups.msn.com/TheGyllenhaalChronicles/_whatsnew. A special thanks goes to everyone who's written to me from the very beginning and to those just starting. I know that the story's taken a lot of twists and turns, good and bad, but thank you so so much for sticking with me through it all. As always, e-mail can be sent to christopherrluu@gmail.com or on MSN messenger with that same e-mail address. I'm on all the time, don't be afraid to drop me a quick message. Award winner for "Best Non-Boy-Band Story Award" at Nifty's Boy-Band Awards for 2006. Part XXXVII "Wake up," Jake whispered, lips brushing Chris' temple, his hand raising goose bumps up Chris' side as he nuzzled his nose into Chris' messy hair. Chris groaned, stretching slightly as he tried to elude consciousness, doing his best to nestle his head into the pillow, pulling Jake's arm around him tight. "Where are we?" he asked, half yawning. "Home," Jake said, brushing Chris' hair off his forehead, a lazy smile on his face, "finally." "We don't have a home," Chris said, "we're vagabonds." "Not for long," Jake said, "give me a kiss." Grinning, Chris leaned up for a kiss, Jake letting out a contented purr as Chris' hand fluttered up his bare chest. "How long were we asleep?" "Mom says we were comatose all yesterday," Jake whispered, their foreheads brushing, "damn jetlag." "We've been jetlagged for the last five months," Chris said, running his hands over his face, "loved every minute of it." "We've got to get up," Jake said, "house hunting. We can't be living in my parents' living room for much longer." Chris leaned in to Jake's ear, "Your mom loves it," he whispered, eyes closing as he pulled his body to Jake's, "and I could live with the free rent and hot meals." It was a lie, but it came out, head muddy with the haze of the morning. The few weeks they spent there before the wedding were lost, replaced with the happy memories from their honeymoon. "Can you live with us not being able to do this?" Jake asked, rolling on top of Chris, their lips smashing together, Chris' hands automatically sliding up to Jake's shoulders. Chris let out a muffled groan, loved the feeling of Jake's weight on top of him, their bodies meshing together just right. A low cough at the door and Chris was jolted right out of his reverie. Jake was right. "Boys, I know you've heard this before," Naomi said, "but we've got to get that sofabed put away." "Yes ma'am," Chris said, blushing, "right after we finish this." Jake snickered as Chris pulled him back down for another kiss, "Told you so," Jake said, licking his lips. He could still taste Chris on his tongue as he pressed their foreheads together, "maybe we can finish in the shower..." It was the only place they could do anything alone in this house, the only place nobody interrupted. Chris was sure the shower stall hadn't ever seen that much action. "Christopher?" Naomi called from the kitchen, "I forgot which coffee you like. Was it French roast or the other one? I can't remember." Rolling his eyes, Chris pushed Jake off of him, "I'll be right there," he called. Jake pulled his hand back, stopping him. "I'll be waiting up there," Jake said, grinning, "grind that coffee and get your ass up there with me." *** "Jesus Christ, not again," Chris said under his breath as he watched the gate open, the slow groan of the motor knotting his stomach. "I don't like this one already, there's no point," he said, "no gates. Nothing that makes me feel trapped in my own house." "We appreciate it," Jake said, "but I think we're calling it a day." His voice sounded tired, crestfallen. "I thought with your budget and your notoriety..." the realtor said. "We just want a house," Jake said, "no frills. None of this crazy stuff, just a place for two people and their dogs." "I'll get back to you when I find something more fitting," he said. "We need something fast," Chris said, "and I know you probably hear that all the time, but we really do." "I'll set up some appointments for tomorrow," he said, "we'll find something." Chris shut his eyes and felt Jake's hand on his, the hum of the car throbbing in the back of his head. Every house had been the same over-the-top Hollywood mansion. It was exactly what they didn't want. "I can actually show you some places right now. Smaller, more understated. I have several listings ready." "That's exactly what we're looking for," Jake said, perking up, "understated. Are you up to it, Chris?" He only shook his head, "You go ahead, I'm going to head home." He looked out the window, spotting a little coffee shop, "Drop me off here, I'll call someone. Topher will pick me up." "Alright," Jake said, leaning over to give Chris a quick kiss on the cheek, "be good. I'll get us a house." Chris hated house hunting. It made him tired, it made him cranky, and even though he didn't think he was being that picky, everything missed the mark. An hour later, Chris was still sitting at the cafe, working on his third latte, Topher on his second. "And the thing is, even if we find a place, it won't be like Santa Barbara. There's nowhere like Santa Barbara." "No, there isn't," Topher said, looking down at his hands, "but now we can hang out all the time. We can do stuff again." "Yeah," Chris said, "at least there's that." He cringed, "Sorry, I mean...I want that--to be able to hang out with you, but I still don't know about this LA thing." "I get it," Topher said, "you just need me to take you home every now and then." "That's not it," Chris said, "and I don't have a home, remember? I'm doing the Gyllenhaal sofa bed tour. I've worn out my welcome at the East Coast branch, I guess." Topher smiled, his sunglasses hiding his green eyes, "I can't believe you guys. You can stay over with me. Parents can get...weird." "It's fine," Chris said, "we should be out of there soon," he sighed, "I hope." Eyes watching the cars speeding by, Topher tried not to fixate on the glinting light flashing off of Chris' ring. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked, drinking the last of his coffee. "Having an anxiety attack," Chris said, rolling his eyes, "and taking the dogs out. I don't even know. I have to get out of the house." "Let's go out," Topher said, "we'll hit up some clubs and you can get your mind off of this shit." Chris shook his head, "No, I'm too tired. Maybe some other time," Chris said, "I'm still getting used to the time and this whole thing is just too much." "You can always talk to me," Topher said, "really. Sometimes you need to get something from someone not in the family. An objective opinion." "I guess you're right," Chris said, trying to see Topher's eyes through two sets of sunglasses, "sometimes the whole Gyllenhaal thing can get a little overwhelming." "Sometimes?" Topher asked, cocking an eyebrow, "I'm surprised you got your vows in at that wedding." "Stop," Chris said, "they're sweet. All of them." He absentmindedly twirled his ring around his finger, "They're great." "Let's get you home," Topher said. "I wish we could walk," Chris said, hands sliding into his pockets, "hate driving and parking and really hate forgetting where we parked. It's ridiculous here." "Just say what you mean," Topher said, reaching for his car keys, "you miss Santa Barbara." Chris ran his hands over his face, another sigh coming out of his mouth, "God," he said, "I miss it so much." *** "Still packing them in," Celeste said, pulling Chris into a hug, "how does your hand feel?" "It's fine," Chris said, blushing, "it's the picture taking that always gets me." "When do you start getting used to that?" Celeste asked, pushing her hair behind her ears. "Any day now," Chris said, chuckling, "is Jake getting the car?" "It's done," Celeste said, "the 'Infinity Inside,' promo whirlwind is done." "Finally," Chris said, "I put it off long enough." Celeste didn't pay any attention, her phone already at her ear. She was undoubtedly telling their publisher all the details, the crowds, the press, everything. Chris felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it, he could feel Jake around somewhere. Wandering through the dissipating crowd, Chris smiled for the last few pictures, shook a few hands, and signed his neat signature on a few more books for the stragglers, "What about me?" Jake asked, smiling as he handed Chris a book. "How was I up there?" Chris asked as he was pulled into a hug, melting into Jake's arms, the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne already relaxing him. "Perfect," Jake said, his cheek running over Chris' as he whispered, "you looked so good up there. Sounded great." "Did you really buy that book?" Chris asked, kissing him on the cheek softly, "I'll kill you if you did." "It's mom's," Jake said, flipping it open, notes scrawled in the margins of every page, "I don't think she needs a signed one." "She knows where to find me if she does," Chris said, his hand sliding down Jake's arm, "I miss it sometimes," he said as he glanced around, eyes up to the ceiling. "You didn't even go here. Shouldn't you feel some sort of Stanford rivalry?" Jake asked, his eyes following Chris'. Royce Hall looked regal, like it had soaked up all the ideas from all the students that walked its halls. UCLA was the last stop on the tour, but he'd been all over, a whirlwind tour of schools all over while Jake stayed back and looked for a house they could call home. "Don't you?" Chris asked, his own footsteps echoing softly in the large auditorium, "you never finished." "You never cared before," Jake said, still smiling wryly, "all this touring is putting ideas into your head." "I don't care," Chris said, following Jake out into the dark of the night, "I've just never known you to start something and not finish it." "Things came up," Jake said as they walked through the sprawling campus, the dew already glimmering on the grass, their feet kicking up the haze around their knees with every step. "And then I found you and I figured you were smart enough for the both of us." He grabbed Chris' hand and Chris pulled himself closer to Jake's body, his arms wrapping around Jake. Jake sighed, "I missed you this week." "I missed you, too," Chris said. Separation after months and months of seeing each other ever waking moment suddenly broke into a week where all they had were phone calls. Chris vaguely recalled going through something like that before, but he'd grown so comfortable with the constant companionship, the both of them, that it was more jarring than he remembered. Being alone, Celeste his only companion, made it even harder. At least Jake had the dogs and his family to distract him. "Mom said you sent her another draft," Jake said, his voice low. Chris stopped, teeth biting his lower lip. Jake turned around to look at him, his hand lifting Chris' chin so they met eye-to-eye. "She said she didn't have a chance to get to it yet." "Yeah?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow, "I heard she thought it was spectacular...'groundbreaking' and you know, 'magical.' The usual." "Did she really say all that?" Chris asked, eyes pleading, his hand gripping Jake's. He could feel Chris' pulse racing in his hand, the crickets chirping as Jake pulled Chris tight to him, the sounds of the city fading into the night, the only thing Jake felt was Chris' heartbeat their breaths even and slow. "Chris, you know it's good. That book was...it's amazing. I've never read anything like it. You know it better than anyone else, of course it's good." "I always just feel like I'm stepping on peoples' toes with the movie thing. People have been doing it for so long...your parents have been. I just started," Chris said, "and it's like I'm stumbling out of my skin it's so weird." "'Stumbling out of my skin?'" Jake whispered. Chris shrugged weakly, "See? I don't even know what I mean." "I love you," Jake said, his eyes softening, "and I do know what I mean." Sighing, Chris grabbed Jake's hand again, "You have no idea where the car is, do you?" Jake shook his head, chuckling as he pulled Chris in for a quick kiss. "I love you," Chris whispered, "always have." *** "Were you cleaning the shower?" Chris asked, fingers quickly buttoning up his shirt before reaching to pull on his jacket. "Yeah," Jake said, voice tired as he flopped back down on the messy sofabed, throwing a thin sheet over his body, "other people use it." Chris blushed deeply, holding back a smile, "I'll tell him you caught something. He'll understand." "I actually wanted to see this movie, too," Jake said before he let out a string of loud coughs, "I must look like shit." He paused, eyes scanning Chris in his dark gray suit, hair perfectly messy, "You look so good." "Vest or no vest?" Chris asked, running his hands over the tight vest under his jacket. It was part of the set, but it felt a little stuffy. "Doesn't matter," Jake said, "you look good." He laid back on the bed, sliver of stomach showing as his t-shirt rode up. "Not like shit," Jake repeated. "You don't look like shit," Chris said, "you couldn't." Smiling, Chris stepped closer, kissing Jake's forehead lightly, let himself be pulled down onto Jake's body, his hand sliding over that tiny bit of exposed skin. "You smell like..." Jake started, forehead furrowed. "Like you," Chris said, "it's your cologne." "Don't have too much fun tonight," Jake said, settling back into the sheets as he ran his hand through Chris' hair, "I'll be missing you." Flashbulbs were something Chris could ignore, especially with sunglasses, but what he couldn't just dismiss was the heckling. Celeste took care of that, shooing away photographers that got too mouthy and pushing Chris past right them. Tonight, as he stepped out of the car, Celeste following right after, he just wanted to find Topher and rush inside. This movie was a huge big budget blockbuster and Chris was instantly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the entire ordeal. The red carpet stretched way down and was flanked on both sides with reporters and photographers. Celeste grabbed his hand, "Looks like I've got the hottest date here," she said, "you ready?" "Christ, no," Chris said, biting his lip, "let's go home." Celeste laughed nervously, pulling him forward, "It'll be over before you know it. Photos only, no reporters. You've had enough publicity. This is the wrong crowd anyway." "Good," Chris said, "let's walk fast." Smiling, Chris walked down past all of the other people who were talking and posing, their smiles wide and clothes neat and pressed. He knew he was rushing, but if Topher was nowhere to be found, he wasn't going to wait around for him. Chris felt someone behind him, but before he could turn around, he felt the weight practically tackle him, Jonas' frame almost toppling the both of them over, "You're here," he said, "amazing sight, isn't it?" "Jonas," Chris said, feeling relief wash over him at the sight of a familiar face, "I didn't know you'd be here." "Miss out on the Hollywood dream?" he asked, throwing his arm around Chris, "never." Chris tiled his head and let Jonas' simple words settle in his head; he really was living a dream and here he was running away from it. He was definitely one of the most prominent writers around, living just about anyone's dream, and he was more focused on his shortcomings than on the moment at hand. "This is my publicist and editor," Chris said, motioning to Celeste, "you probably met at the wedding." "Right I did," he said, shaking her hand, "so where is he?" "Jake's sick," Chris said, smile fading slightly, "so he's resting. I'm just here for Topher." "Good man," Jonas said, beaming, "now should we give them something other than our backs?" Celeste nodded, expression excited as the two of them turned to face the photographers, flashes clicking as they smiled, Jonas waving at the photographers as Chris slid his hands into his pockets. The flashes suddenly focused on someone further down on the carpet and Chris is glanced over, Topher stepping out of a car catching his eye. "Is that our man of the moment?" Jonas asked, squinting. Topher pulled his sunglasses off and waved to the two of them, completely disregarding the entire gamut of photographers and reporters to get to them and pull Chris into a hug. "Hey," he said, expression soft, "you came." "Of course I did," Chris said, look questioning, "why wouldn't I?" "Jake's not here?" Topher asked, glancing around. "Down with something," Jonas added, not giving Chris a chance to answer, "it's us tonight." Topher grinned, not sure if Jake really was sick or if this was just an excuse. Even though he and Jake seemed to be on good terms, he could never tell. Jake never said it directly, but every time he was around, Topher noticed how Jake would hold Chris' hand, how he'd always pull Chris into tight hugs and stand especially close to him. Maybe it was subconscious, but Topher always saw it. "Too bad," Topher said, throwing his arms around both Chris and Jonas, "I guess he'll have to read about it in the paper." "Just a little more, right?" Chris asked, smiling nervously as he waved weakly, "I'm not really used to this." "Get used to it," Jonas said. "I can't," Chris interrupted, slipping out from under Topher's arm, "I'll meet you guys in there." Celeste mouthed an apology to the two of them as she shuffled after Chris, who wove in and out of the other attendees, ducking past all the reporters and photographers. "You looked like you were having fun," Topher said when he found Chris inside, practically hidden from view. Leaning against a wall, Chris half-ignored him. Sighing, Topher continued, "You know, it's okay to have fun when Jake's not around. You're allowed." Chris' eyes shot to Topher's, "It's not that." "Yes it is," he said, "well, it's part of it," he corrected himself. He grabbed Chris' shoulders, "Buck up." "I'll see you in there," Chris said, "are we sitting next to each other?" "You know it," Topher said, nodding, "give me a smile. Just a little one's fine. I'm not asking for much." "I love you," Chris said earnestly, giving Topher a smile without even realizing it, "I don't know what's going on in this head of mine." "It's alright," Topher said, "nobody does." *** "Don't they ever sleep?" Chris asked under his breath, following Jonas and Topher into the crowd, all three of them sliding right past the long line outside. The photographers were across the street, thankfully, but they were still there. Being a celebrity, however minor, did come with its perks. Someone immediately whispered something in Topher's ear, Chris didn't hear it all, but the word 'champagne' and 'VIP' room were definitely tossed around. "Never," Jonas smiled, "that's the fun." He pulled Chris forward into the shaking beat of the club, flashes of light illuminating parts of the dance floor, bodies all moving together as the music played at an almost unbearable volume. Chris followed the two of them deeper into the club, getting pulled into the music and the pulse, half a smile forming on his lips. He checked his watch; it still wasn't too late. A few songs and he'd catch a cab home, right into Jake's arms. His jacket was in Jonas' rental car, and in his vest and loosened tie, he almost felt like he belonged. "Bar," Topher said, a grin on his face, "we've got to celebrate. I'll get round one." "Lager for me," Jonas said, his accent catching the attention of everyone in earshot, "I have a feeling I'll be hauling your asses home tonight." "Is that a challenge?" Topher asked, sidling up to the bar, "two beers, dark ones, and...Chris?" "Cranberry," Chris said over his shoulder, his eyes still glued to the bodies on the floor. They were all overdressed, even though they'd shed their ties but Chris wanted to get out there, somewhere he could forget about the writing and the fact that he was basically homeless. He didn't even have a room, he shared a sofa bed and for some reason, Jake was taking his time finding them a place to live. Granted, he was sick, but he seemed so comfortable, disarmingly comfortable where Chris felt like he was encroaching on the graciousness of his in-laws. He'd had a place to call his own for so long that he missed it, really missed it. "Cranberry with what?" Jonas asked, confused, "Gray Goose or Belvedere?" "Just the cranberry," Chris said. Topher nodded and handed him the drink, motioning for Jonas to drop the subject. Chris found a table and stood there watching as Topher and Jonas both threw back their beers, gulp after gulp of amber lager flowing down their throats. "Are you guys serious?" Chris asked, eyebrow raised, "we're not twenty-one anymore." "Another round," Topher said, voice suddenly chipper, "Chris, go grab another two and we'll get out there." "I'm not driving home, guys. I'll get lost," Chris said seriously, "I don't know where the hell we are..." "Don't worry about it," Jonas said, pushing Chris towards the bar, "we'll figure it out. You Americans, you've got cabs, don't you?" "We've got cabs, man," Topher said, raising his empty glass to Chris, "just one more round, we're not going to get crazy tonight." Chris moved his body to the music, some remix of a song he vaguely recalled, the loud thump of the bass louder than any of the lyrics, his eyes half lidded as he felt bodies rub against him, it'd been too long since he'd been to a place like this, where people had no names or faces and the music and the drinks were the only thing that really mattered. He felt Topher brush up against him, both of their jackets off and their sleeves rolled up, Chris' shirt half-unbuttoned as he danced, arms suddenly sliding up onto Topher's shoulders, "Nobody slipped you anything, did they?" Topher asked when he saw Chris' wry smile, his half-lidded eyes. Shaking his head, "Jonas just keeps getting me juice and water," Chris said, turning around just as someone bumped Topher from behind, his chest pressing to Chris' back, "one of them tasted funny, but I finished it before I realized. I love this song," Chris said, smiling widely. His voice was energetic, bordering on shouting, but he didn't seem to notice. "I think it might be time to get you out of here," Topher said, cringing. He grabbed Chris' hand and started to yank him through the crowd, but he felt Chris' hand slip away. "Have another beer," he heard through the thumping, "just one more song." "No, I think we're done," Topher said, "really. I can't get you back to Jake like this." "It's okay," Chris said, still pulling, practically dragging Topher back onto the floor to dance again, "he doesn't hate you anymore." Topher stopped, looking right into Chris' glazed eyes, "What do you mean? I mean, I know what you mean. You don't just...Chris." "What?" he asked, "just dance with me." "Chris," Topher asked, almost pleading, until Jonas came out on to the floor, a beer in each hand. He handed one to Topher, "Bottoms up," he said, throwing another one back. Topher rolled his eyes, shook his head, and followed suit. There was too much going on and he was obviously still a little too clear. "Another one," Topher said, bringing a huge grin to Jonas' face, "and then we're done. I've got to get him home. Jake will kill me otherwise." "Whatever you say," Jonas said. He pointed over to Chris, his forehead furrowing, "All it took was a good shot. Is he a drinker?" "Not at all," Topher said expression suddenly becoming concerned, "and hey, next time, don't do that. He's been through some stuff." "Yes sir," Jonas said, saluting him crookedly, "one more coming right up." "Forget it, we've got to get out of here," Topher said, pulling Chris from the floor. But Jonas was already off to the bar and Topher rolled his eyes as Chris pulled away, weaving his way back to the center of the dance floor, illuminated in profile by the flashing lights. He looked happy, Topher thought, and it might have been what he was sure was more than one shot or, more hopefully, it was because they were actually having fun. *** "Got room for me in there?" Jake asked as he stepped into the shower, a lazy smile on his face, his jaw peppered with stubble and his hair sticking up. "Hey," Chris said, smiling as he pulled Jake into a kiss, the billows of steam rising around them, "good morning." "I guess so," Jake said. He paused for just a second, "Was there a three-way I missed last night? There's...Grace is out there. On our bed. Was he there all night?" Chris froze, his face suddenly paling, "Jesus. I told him to stay on the floor or in that armchair." "I woke up and you were here," Jake said, patting his chest, "and he was right behind you." "God," Chris said, leaning against the wall of the shower, "he had too much to drink last night. We went dancing, Jonas had all this beer..." "Nothing happened," Jake said, "I trust you. It was just weird." He got fully under the spray, water spilling through his hair and cascading down onto his chest. Chris ran his fingers through Jake's wet hair, felt the muscles under Jake's skin as he pressed his body to Jake's, "You know better...and he does, too," Jake said, "I might have to talk some sense into that Irish leprechaun though." "He didn't know what he was doing," Chris said, feeling Jake's lips on his neck, "we all just got caught up in it." "I get caught up in you," Jake said, voice low as his hands trailed down Chris' back, "and I get caught up in us." Jake let out a soft groan, watching the play of tight muscles under his skin, water sliding down his back in smooth rivulets, "We should get him home," Chris whispered, gasping when Jake's hands dipped below his waist, his lips on Chris' ear. "I'm not clean yet," Jake said, voice low, "and I don't think you are either." "We can't keep having sex in the shower," Chris said, resting his head on Jake's shoulder, his neck leaning back, Jake's nipping at the soft skin. "Shit," he hissed as Jake's finger slid into his hole, his jaw clenching tight as Jake held him steady. "So you want me to stop?" Jake asked, sliding his finger out a little, crooking it at the knuckle, tip right on Chris' prostate. Shuddering, Chris shook his head, steadying himself against the tile wall, the spray of water still spilling down his back. "Jake," he groaned, fingers sliding through his own hair, "come on." Jake added another finger, his own cock throbbing as he watched Chris tense and relax, breathing already ragged as he looked back at Jake, eyes concentrated and focused. Chris' cock was hard, the steamy air stifling as his eyes slammed shut, Jake's fingers slipping out of him. "Have to be in you," Jake grunted, grabbing Chris' shoulder tight, "can't wait anymore." "Jake," Chris said, voice sending a shiver right down Jake's spine, "you can't be...I just need, we need..." Before he could finish, Jake sank to his knees, his fingers--three this time--sliding into Chris' hole again. Jake pushed Chris' legs apart, and his tongue joined his fingers at Chris' asshole, fingers coming out and tongue sliding in, Chris shaking above him as he nipped at Chris' hole, tongue thrusting inside one second and swirling around the perimeter the next, Chris' legs shaking, his eyes clamped shut as Jake's tongue slid inside him, his own hand on his cock, Jake's fingers on his balls and sliding back, stroking his perineum, tongue down there right as Chris slumped over against the wall, his fist tight around his cock. "Close?" Jake asked, fingers sliding in and out of Chris' tight hole, "I can't...much longer." "Can't what?" Chris groaned, suffocating in the steam, his body felt loose and slippery, completely tense one second and melting against Jake's touch the next. His forehead was pressed hard against the tile, jaw clenched hard as he waited for Jake's next move. His whimpers drew groans right out of Jake's throat, sending shivers jolting up his back. Jake spread Chris' ass apart, water sliding down over his hole, Jake's tongue slipping inside again, the muscle loose stretched now, his fingers sliding in with little resistance. Chris shuddered and quaked above him, the water pounding against both of their bodies as they both started breathing harder, Chris' hands sliding along the wall, struggling to grab anything to steady himself. Jake stood up, his chest pressed hard against Chris' back as he nipped at Chris' neck, fingers still pressing hard onto Chris' prostate, pushing short gasps out of Chris' mouth. Entire body tight and tense, Chris threw his head back as Jake pushed his cock in, tiny drops of water scattering through the shower from his hair as Jake bit down hard on his lip, entry slow and controlled. His other hand grabbed Chris' hip and he pushed hard, slamming Chris' body against the wall of the shower, a hard grunt coming from the both of them. Jake didn't move, reveling in the feeling of Chris' tight chute squeezing his cock, his own eyes closed as he pushed his body hard against Chris', chest to back, craving as much contact as possible. Groaning, Chris shuddered as Jake slid out slowly, his body quivering as he let out a soft whimper, forehead resting on the cold tile. They'd been fucking in the shower for weeks now, the only time they could find to themselves, the only place they knew nobody would interrupt them. It was always rushed, but it always drove Chris crazy, having Jake's cock buried deep in him as he shivered against the cold tile, body pelted by hot water. Biting Chris' shoulder, Jake's thrusts were instantly hard and slow, every thrust deep and powerful, pressing Chris hard against the wall, grunts muffled by the sound of water and the wet slap of skin on skin. Jake grunted right into Chris ear, his thrusts picking up speed as he spread his legs apart, steadying the both of them as Chris groaned into the tile, body shaking as Jake's cock raked over his prostate again and again; sending him up onto his toes every time Jake slammed in especially hard. The sound of water and groans seemed to echo in the bathroom, Chris' ears ringing as Jake fucked his asshole, cock stretching him open with every thrust, their heartbeats racing as Chris gasped for air, Jake's eyes watching the tense muscles of his back, his own body tingling all over as Chris' tight chute clutched at every inch of his cock. His voice falling to nothing but soft whimpers and sharp cries, Chris felt Jake's hand on his cock and his body went rigid, his head falling back onto Jake's shoulder as he shot, thick ropes of cum smattering the shower wall, Jake's body frozen as Chris' chute clutched at his cock, every spurt of cum punctuated with a hard squeeze. Jake groaned, sound resonating in the bathroom as he licked a hot stripe down Chris' neck, tracing his spine as tried to catch his breath. "Why'd you stop?" Chris gasped, his voice shaky, "come on." Grunting, Jake pulled out slowly, watching Chris tense again, the water sliding off of their bodies. He slammed in deep, pushing a silent groan from Chris' mouth, his body rigid again, arms bracing himself against the shower wall, Jake groaning hard as he pushed in again and again, pulling out fast to press his cock in again, every nerve of his body hypersensitive, his breaths short and shallow, eyes clamped shut as Chris whimpered under him, his body rocking with the push and shove of Jake's. "You're so fucking tight," Jake whispered, his words trailing off into a tight hiss, "Jesus," he groaned, "I'm close." "Come on," Chris groaned, stroking himself furiously, his movements stunted and jerky, his teeth on his lip, legs quivering as Jake wrapped his arms tight around his chest, muffling his groan into Chris' neck as he froze, hot cum spurting up into Chris' tight chute, grateful that the bathroom walls echoed the sound and didn't let it out into the house. His breathing was heavy, and as Chris jerked himself off, the full length of Jake's cock still buried inside him, he kept feeling the jolts travel through his dick and up his back. Chris was quivering, his body tensing all over again before his ass clamped down on Jake again, pulling the last few drops of cum from his cock. Jake held him steady, letting him ride the orgasm out, the shower water finally losing its heat. Jake leaned down and their lips came together, Chris' eyes shut softly as he felt Jake's body melt into his, "God, Jake," he whispered, letting out a long breath, "it's..." his voice trailed off as he was pushed under the spray of the shower, the water refreshing now, Jake's body still pressing against his. "Let's get out of here," Jake whispered, "we've already been too long." "Just a minute," Chris said, still floating back into his body. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and down his face before kissing Jake one more time, hands tracing the contours of his chest. He let out one last long breath, a wide smile on his face as he shook his head slowly, "It's crazy." "What is?" Jake asked, kissing his forehead softly. "We always have to do it in here," he said, "and it's always good. Still think you can handle it on a bed?" He slid his hand down and grabbed Jake's cock again, pulling on it softly. "It's like riding a bike," Jake said, grinning, "you only get better." *** "Thanks mom," Chris said, kissing Naomi's cheek softly as she handed him a mug of coffee. Jake was already at the table, sprinkling sugar onto half of a pink grapefruit, a bagel already half-eaten next to it. "We're going to head out soon," Jake said, "I'm showing him the house in that neighborhood we drove through the other day and then that other one maybe." "That house is perfect for you two," she said, leaning against the counter, eyes endearing as she looked at the three of them around her table, "I know how much Christopher needs the beach." "Malibu's a great neighborhood to live in," Topher added, "you guys can ride your bikes and you're still close to everything here." Chris nodded, "We just need a place that's ours." "Ours," Jake agreed, his smile infectious, "maybe this time we'll even have matching furniture and dishes that aren't chipped." "That old house," Topher said, eyes wrinkling at the corners, "was one hell of a place. I spent so many nights there. It was as homey as it could get." "It was home," Chris said, "that's why. It was all our stuff." "You'll find a place like that again," Naomi said, "it'll happen and then you'll both be glad you waited." "I can't wait much longer," Chris said, "living on a sofa out of suitcases isn't living." "How long have you guys been here?" Topher asked, tearing a piece of toast in half. Chris only shrugged, wanting to drop the subject immediately having Naomi there over their shoulders. It was no surprise why Jake was taking his time. With breakfast every morning and their laundry done for them, not having to worry about groceries, Jake seemed pretty content. Chris could see it in his relaxed posture, the way he was always smiling, and especially how happy he was to be around his parents. "We should get going," Chris said abruptly, the last of his coffee sliding down his throat, "are we dropping Topher off first?" "We've got time," Jake said, taking a gulp of his coffee, "mom said she picked something up for us." "I almost forgot," Naomi said, a bolt energy flashing through her, "it's in the other room, I'll get it." "If there's another room, why are you two sleeping on the pullout couch?" Topher asked, eyebrow cocked. "It's an office," Jake explained. "And the other one is an office, too," Chris said, "that's why we wake up at sunrise and why our shoes are all in the entryway." He wasn't even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. "It's temporary," Jake interrupted, voice muffled by the juicy chomping of grapefruit. "So it took me a while, but I think I got it all in order," Naomi said, setting two big albums on the table, "from what Jake could remember." "What are these?" Chris asked, flipping one open, his eyes wide, "whoa." "Wedding album," Jake said, eyes scanning the pictures as Chris flipped through the pages, the black and white pictures of them in the vineyard, smiles on their faces and the guests' faces, too. All thoughts of how exasperated he was with Jake and the whole situation flew from his mind as he remembered how perfect those few days were. The pictures brought back memories he forgot he even had. Jake grabbed his hand, "Look at that," he said softly, "like it was yesterday." Topher flipped the other one open, his eyes meeting pictures of Chris and Jake in various poses, Jake's arm outstretched in most of them, it was obvious that the camera was in his own hand, composition awkward and sweet at the same time. He turned page after page, exotic locations and quaint little village scenes filling every picture, but what struck him the most was how happy Chris looked in every shot, genuine happiness that Topher knew only came from being with Jake. "Where's this?" he asked, pointing to a picture of Jake sitting on a bench, Chris asleep with his head in Jake's lap, body stretched along the length of the wooden slats, "who took it?" Chris leaned in to look at it closer, brow furrowed. He shrugged and Jake came around, glancing over Topher's shoulder, "What was...Prague? No, that was a train station somewhere. Someone took it for me, I don't know." "Then it was Australia, because that's when we had to sleep at the train station," Chris said, sliding the album back over to Topher, growing more impatient by the second, "We missed our train and then fell asleep...and we missed the next train, too." "It was warm," Jake said, smiling, "Australia was awesome. Train-station sleeping or not." "Hey, let me get the dishes and we'll head out," Chris said, already shutting the album. The honeymoon was over; it was time to move on. *** "He's not used to having other people around," Jake explained, "we were like hermits up there in Santa Barbara. I think it's time we changed things up. With Aaron and the jobs, LA is where we've got to be." "You talked about this, right?" Peter asked, "because he doesn't seem like the type to live out here. Old habits and all." "Yeah, we talked," Jake said, "of course we did." "Then why isn't he looking with you?" Peter asked, "he's going to be living in this house, too." "House hunting makes him tired," Jake explained, "and the dogs are living there too, I don't really ask for their opinion on the whole thing." "Did you just compare him to a dog?" Peter asked, brow wrinkling, "if he doesn't go with you, how will he know?" Jake sighed, fingers running through his hair, "I don't think he cares anymore." "He's never had parents around like yours," Peter said, "nobody has." Jake only nodded, suddenly feeling the fatigue of an entire day. He saw three with Chris and Topher before they gave up and Peter was the only person he could wrangle into coming with him to see the last few. Chris had the same ambivalence towards every house. 'It's fine,' he'd say, shrugging. Topher wasn't much more help, quiet most of the day, his usual energy at the same sluggish level as Chris'. "He's just still getting used to everything. He's in unfamiliar surroundings." Jake heard the clinical tone in his voice, but he shrugged it off. It was the truth. "How long will it take?" Peter asked, his tone almost patronizing, "it's been long enough. You need to settle down again." Nodding again, Jake remained silent. He had to admit the tiny tinge of selfishness that ran through him. He loved waking up next to Chris, knowing that neither of them would have to get up to make breakfast, that he could spend all day reading or lounging around without having to worry about groceries or making a commute down to do a reading. Chris wouldn't have to sit around for faxes all day if he could go down and discuss edits with the production company directly. He figured that either way, it was just easy. It was too easy. For him, at least--Chris was starting to hate it, he could tell, and he wasn't about to let Chris hate a family that loved him back so much. And on top of that, the dogs were driving his mom up the wall. Jake ran his fingers over his face this time, trying hard to think of something that would work out. "You still there?" Peter asked, grabbing Jake's shoulder, "talk to me." "One more," Jake said, "it's out of the way, but we might as well." "How out of the way are we talking?" Peter asked, settling in his seat, the hum of the highway almost disappearing. "Santa Barbara's a place we can save for next weekend." Half an hour later, Jake was checking his phone for the code for the key box, the two of them standing on the salt and sun worn porch of a little two-story house tucked away in Malibu. It was a little out of the way, but it was much closer than Santa Barbara and when Jake was driving through the winding neighborhoods, it almost felt the same. He just hoped he could convince Chris. "It looks good," Peter said as they stepped inside the empty house, footsteps echoing along with their voices. Jake slid his sunglasses up into his hair. It was bigger than their old house, but there wasn't a place Chris could run away to write. The view of the beach was even more breathtaking than what the realtor had told Jake in their emails, and Jake couldn't help but picture the dogs lounging around on the back deck. It was easy enough, get something by the beach, but even this house was missing that special something. "Really good," Jake said, shrugging, "is it time to give up?" "Maybe it's time to settle for something that's just alright," Peter said, already heading up to the second story, "not that this is alright. This is awesome." Jake leaned against a wall, eyes fixed out to the ocean through the huge glass windows, every wave in clear view. It smelled like the ocean, almost tasted like it every time Jake took a breath. Peter was right. To any other person this house would have been a dream come true, but to Jake, it didn't have any of the memories their old house did. This wasn't where the house Chris wrote in, this wasn't the house they cooked in together, this wasn't the house that they filled with their mismatched furniture and more than that, it wasn't the house where Jake realized he loved someone so much it hurt to be away from them. It just wasn't theirs. "It's better than good," Peter said from upstairs, "rooms are huge." "They better be," Jake mumbled, "there are only three. And this house cost three times as much as our old one." "It's worth it," Peter said, half-shouting, "right?" "Right," Jake said, starting up the stairs. The whole house seemed flooded with sunlight, fat, pure white beams filling every room. It was much better than the gated houses they'd been looking at, hidden behind hedges and tucked into winding planned communities. The house just seemed fresher than anything they'd looked at. "Why aren't you looking around?" Peter asked. "Because it feels right...sort of. It's alright." "Then get it," Peter said, "you haven't said one good thing about any other place." "I have to show Chris first, you know?" Jake said, eyes still locked on the rolling waves, this time through the bedroom window, "he might not like it." He knew he was saying the words just to say them, it was the right thing to do. He had to consider what Chris wanted, but he was being so ambivalent and Jake was almost positive this was as close as they'd get to perfect. "It's perfect," Peter said, "big bedroom, you have a room and he has one, kick the dogs downstairs, find a place for all your shoes, and you're done. Call your realtor." "You're right," Jake said, finally turning to face Peter as he reached for his cell phone, "you always are." "Comes with dad territory," Peter said, grabbing Jake's shoulder, "and big brother, too. This is your house. You might not think so, but I know you two. This is it." *** Chris folded the last of the laundry, huge stacks all over the laundry room as Boo jumped around, begging for attention. He had to earn his keep, so he wordlessly volunteered to do all the chores Naomi would let him. She stopped him when she saw him hosing down the outside windows, so he stuck to laundry and dishes. Vacuuming and dusting was for the housekeepers to do, but he managed to sneak some of that in, too. "You didn't have to do that, dear," she said as she walked in, a stack of mail in her hands. She always said it after he did anything. "No, it's okay," Chris said, nervously inspecting his work. He'd seen her undo some of his folding before, folding it her own way or hanging it up. He tried not to let it bother him, but it only made him feel even more like he was imposing. Boo trotted after him as he grabbed a bottle of water and stepped out into the back yard. The sun was shining as he went over to his favorite spot outside the confines of the sofa bed, behind a big tree where nobody could find him. Escaping was something he kept telling himself he shouldn't do, but this one spot like the only place he felt comfortable. He sat there, sun warming his dark hair as he thought about it: he actually felt more at home at Topher's house, at the coffee shop, and at the library. Jake's parent's house--his parent's house--was just so foreign even though he'd been there a million times. It was their house, not his. He visited, he didn't stay. "This came for you," Naomi called from the deck, her small voice carrying across the yard, Boo's ears perking at the sudden sound, "are you out here, Christopher?" "I'll be right there," Chris said, tossing the still unopened bottle of water from one hand to the other. His escape didn't even last long enough for him to get into his head, much less clear it. He groaned as he got up off the grass, his eyes skyward for just a second, blue filling his entire field of vision, not a cloud in sight. Everything was getting too frustrating and he just wanted to drown in that sky. A bark behind crashed his dreams back down to earth, his eyes catching sight of Boo chasing after a bird. Sighing, Chris "Inside, Boo," he said, "maybe your other daddy will be back soon and we can take you out. I need to get out." "Here you go, sweetheart," Naomi said as she handed Chris a few envelopes, all with the bright red forwarded mail stamp across the front. He never really got anything important in the mail, but the DMV envelope seemed a little more urgent than the credit card applications. He set the rest of the mail down on the dining room table, where most of his and Jake's stuff had found its home, and tore the envelope open, his new driver's license falling out onto the floor. "Crap," Chris said, bending over to get it, the new picture something he was actually satisfied with. He looked at it closer, weird seeing a picture on there that wasn't him at fifteen, weird seeing his last name hyphenated, Gyllenhaal right there on his ID. "What's that?" Naomi asked, startling him and sending the card down to the floor again. "ID," Chris said quickly, retrieving it again, "lost my old one somewhere in...I don't even remember. Sydney? Paris? It was probably Paris." "Lewis-Gyllenhaal?" Naomi said, voice stretching out the syllables, "sounds...different." "Didn't you do the same thing? We're both hyphenates," Chris asked, not sure how the whole thing was going. He and Naomi had always gotten along, but the proximity and the close quarters might be wearing them thin. Chris didn't want to step on anyone's toes. "Yes, I did," Naomi said, smiling, "it's even more official now. Does Jake know?" "It was his idea," Chris said as he nodded, "well, not really an idea. He sort of just thought I would...and I did it." Her expression was questioning, but it passed quickly. Chris was relieved when she changed the subject and he was sure she was just as thankful, "I looked over the script again--your script--and I made a few suggestions. I thought that making some scenes into a montage would make it flow better. Talk to Zhang about it." "How do you pronounce it?" Chris asked, "I can never get it right." Naomi grabbed his shoulder, "I'll show you what I did. We can call him together. I still can't believe they got him to do it." "He's...I don't know. Cool, I guess. Chinese for sure. Jake was excited," Chris said, following her into her office, where his laptop sat facing her computer, where they'd spent hours fixing up his script together, always facing each other but saying little, their typing fingers flying across keyboards as they added and deleted, edited and revised, Chris trying to absorb the entire process. Naomi did it without even thinking, ideas flowing from her as Chris saw his book transform into a movie, seeing Jake in the actual scenes, picturing the entire thing playing out. In his head at least, it looked great. It was up to the director to make sure, though, and Chris hoped that the communication barrier would be broken down right away. He'd learn Chinese if that's what it took. "Mom, are you home?" Jake yelled through the house, "is Chris here?" "Up here," Chris yelled back. He didn't have to look to see Naomi grimacing. The house echoed, sounds bouncing off antiques and the paneled wood walls. Chris and Jake took full advantage. "I'm with your mom," he added, "bring Atticus, he left a toy up here." "Chris and I are going out for dinner," Jake said, his voice getting closer and closer, "but we'll be back tonight. I can't find the guy. He must be outside." "Where are we going?" Chris asked as Jake kissed a trail along his jaw, a smile on both their faces, "I thought the dog...hey, I got my new license today." "Good, you can drive tonight," Jake said, "I got a bottle of red. A good one." Smiling, Chris pulled Jake down for a short kiss, the simple act pushing all the tension out of his head, "Need help with the groceries? I'll give you a hand." "Are you working?" Jake asked, suddenly realizing he was in his mom's office, "I'm not making anything fancy. Just normal food." "Okay," Chris said, "we're going to do something really quick, I think. I'll be right down and we can go." "One more kiss," Jake said, leaning in to press his forehead to Chris', "just because." "Just because," Chris said, pressing his lips to Jake's. His eyes shut as his hand ran over Jake's stubbly chin, leaning up as Jake pulled away to get just that little bit more, "I'll be right down." *** Jake sighed, his palms a little sweaty as his body coursed with nervous energy. Not only had it taken Chris hours to finish up his edits, Jake was almost positive that if one more house didn't really fit the two of them, Chris would set up a tent in his parent's back yard. "You okay?" Jake heard, Chris' hand running over his arm to grip his, "you seem really...on edge." "Just hungry," Jake said, "and maybe I am a little on edge. You would know, right?" He chuckled nervously, rolling his eyes instantly. Nothing was going right. "The wine will help that, right?" Chris asked, smiling. He watched the little wrinkles at the edge of Jake's eyes behind his sunglasses as he drove, loved being with Jake more than anything. "It's all I've got," Jake said, gripping Chris' hand in his, "you definitely don't take me off the edge. You bring me there." "Who are you kidding," Chris said, settling in the seat, his eyes focusing on the coastline, "do you miss home?" "Every day," Jake said without hesitation, "but I'm going to lay it all out. We're never going to have that again. Even if we go back, it won't be the same. It'll be like a knockoff. It'll be fake. We need to find somewhere new to make our own." "I spent my whole life looking for a place that was my own," Chris said, "I thought I found it." The words hit Jake hard, but he bit his lip, resisting the urge to say anything, "But then you came along so I think that my place is," he paused, chuckling softly, "next to you." Jake glanced over and saw Chris' profile, eyes transfixed on the road ahead, gaze unfocused. "You mean that?" Jake asked. Chris finally turned to face him, "If I went back to Santa Barbara without you, it wouldn't be home. I'd be missing you too much. I need to be where you are." Jake slowed the car down in front of the house, Chris not even realizing that they'd been driving through a neighborhood with the ocean peeking out between the houses, "Well, I'm hoping that this is where I'm going to be with you," Jake said, reaching behind him for the backpack that he'd packed, "let me show you." Tensing, Chris reluctantly opened the door, "You make it hard to say no sometimes," he said as he closed his eyes, the salty smell of the ocean shaking him as Jake grabbed his hand. "Give it a chance," Jake said, pulling Chris towards the house, "and I will, too." --- feedback? chrisotpherrluu@gmail.com