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!
(And all rights are reserved, so please don't post this story or any part of it anywhere without asking me first. Thanks.) --------------------------------------------------------------------
I won't bore you with a lengthy prologue this time, except to say thanks for your patience. Now go ahead and read....
"Man, you really did get punched," Jake commented, his fingers sliding across my bruise, his touch startling me.
We were headed north on Sunset Boulevard, the traffic fairly thick in both directions. I flipped the sun-visor mirror down and viewed the spot along my jaw that had been wounded in the fight. The once bluish-black bruise was now turning a deep shade of yellow - not nearly as ugly as it had been a couple of days ago, but still noticeable. "It's fading now," I said. "Hurt like hell the morning after."
"I bet it did. Can't believe some random asshole picked a fight with you."
"Yeah . . ."
"Well, if I'd been there, I would have helped you kick his ass."
I flipped the sun-visor back up and looked at him. "Is that right?" I chided light-heartedly. "Bad-ass Jake Gyllenhaal, coming to my rescue?"
"Hell no," he said. "I know you can take care of yourself. I just meant that I'd lend you a hand. Be there for ya . . . you know?"
We stopped momentarily at an intersection, and he unexpectedly leaned over and whispered, "Come here," proceeding to plant a kiss on my lips. It was short but sweet and managed to send a surge of excitement through me. The pedestrians in the crosswalk appeared completely oblivious, walking to and fro with cell phones pressed to their ears and shopping bags clutched in their hands.
"I'm really glad you're here," he said, keeping his hand on my thigh, peering at me through his sunglasses.
"I am, too," I responded, entwining my fingers with his. The fact that he'd kissed me in a semi-public setting was both surprising and deeply pleasing. Perhaps my paranoia over the ranch photo was unfounded. Or perhaps Jake felt safe enough behind the tinted windows of his Mercedes not to care.
Either way, the physical connection with him had been thrilling, and suddenly I wanted more. I leaned into him, straining against my seatbelt, sliding a hand behind his neck to press my lips against the soft skin of his earlobe. He expelled his breath, squeezing my thigh, and muttered, "Fuck, I've missed that . . ." while the light turned from red to green. And suddenly cars from behind were honking impatiently, inching forward. I quickly sat back, readjusting my seatbelt across my chest while Jake shook to his senses and pressed on the gas pedal, jerking us forward.
"Take it easy," I insisted. "No need to crash this precious car." I had never ridden in a Mercedes before. Couldn't help but be impressed by the leather seats, satellite radio and GPS system.
Just then, Jake's cell phone rang. He swooped it up to his ear and said, "Jake here . . . Yeah, we're headed to the house right now. . . No . . . I don't know . . . Let me call you later." He snapped the phone shut and tossed it into an empty cup holder. Then he looked at me and said, "That was Maggie. She'll be here in a couple of days."
I raised my eyebrows. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. She flies in from New York all the time."
"Oh . . ." I said, a tinge of disappointment in my voice. I tried to visualize the visit, Maggie arriving at the house and spending time with us. "It'll be good to see her."
Jake grinned at me, already sensing my hesitation. "Don't worry," he assured me, squeezing my knee. "She'll stay at Mom and Dad's."
"I wasn't worried," I insisted. But I knew that he knew I was lying, and the fact that we could understand each other so well without words was still amazing to me - was one of the countless reasons why I was so crazy about him.
As we neared Sunset Strip, the traffic grew remarkably thicker; sidewalks teeming with pedestrians; shops, restaurants and huge billboards lining the road. I was instantly distracted by the barrage of sights and sounds, my eyes trying to focus on too many things at once, my head growing dizzy with the motion of traffic and people swarming everywhere.
After a few minutes of witnessing the insanity, I mumbled, "This is nuts."
To which Jake replied, "That's L.A. for you." As if the simple phrase could encompass everything.
We continued to snake our way through the molasses of traffic, Jake successfully managing to avoid hitting jay-walkers and incautious drivers until we eventually left the madness behind and passed into new territory, the urban topography transforming into lush green lawns, perfectly manicured gardens and enormous gated mansions.
It felt like entering into another world, one which was altogether foreign to me. And instantly intriguing as well. As we meandered through wide, tree-lined streets, I marveled at the expansive residences hidden behind high stone walls, front yards shadowed by oak and palm trees, luxury vehicles parked in enormous circular driveways.
"Christ," I mumbled. "I knew this existed, but even so . . ."
Jake chuckled. "Aw, come on, Coop. It's just a neighborhood."
As I peered out of the window, I felt like a kid at Disneyland, excited and overwhelmed all at the same time. "It's like being in a movie," I said. "Or on Mars. Definitely not anything I'm familiar with."
Jake brought his hand up to grip the nape of my neck. Shaking me slightly, he chuckled, "Oh, my beautiful Colorado hick boy . . . so naive, and yet so damned sexy."
We made several more turns, passing properties left and right until I no longer knew which direction we were headed in anymore, the roads seeming to curve and cross over one another in random pattern. Eventually we slowed down before a wide wrought-iron gate, passing through its opening to enter into a small courtyard lined with palm and eucalyptus trees. The circular drive led us up to a contemporary-style home - square in design, with varying levels of flat rooflines and enormous windows, its size not nearly as impressive as some of the other mansions in the area but substantial nonetheless.
"This is it, huh?" I inquired. "Your humble abode?"
"Yep, this is it," he responded, shutting the engine off and exiting the car.
I followed him out, and he popped the trunk to grab my suitcase, tossing me my duffle bag. We approached the front door, and as he slid his key in and pushed it open, a large German Shepard jumped out, practically tackling me, barking and sniffing with huge paws pressed against my chest.
"Atticus!" Jake scolded, yanking on the dog's collar, trying to pry him from me while at the same time disarming the alarm system on the keypad inside the foyer.
It was canine chaos for a moment while another, smaller dog joined in, barking and rushing from Jake's feet to mine, his tail wildly wagging in excitement.
I scratched the German Shepard behind the ears, struggling to remain balanced on my feet until Jake was able to lead him away, commanding him to sit in the foyer, where he restlessly squatted. Meanwhile, the smaller dog yelped and yawed and skirted around my ankles, anxious for my attention as well.
In one swoop, Jake scooped the puppy up into his arms and cradled him. "This is Boo," he informed me.
"Boo," I echoed, leaning in to scratch the dog's belly while his coarse, wet tongue slithered all over my chin. "What kind of dog is he?" I asked.
"A puggle."
"A puggle . . ."
"Half pug, half beagle."
"Interesting."
Jake plopped the puppy back down onto the floor and stepped further into the house. I shut the front door and followed close behind, noting the high ceilings and enormous picture windows in every direction, the main room overlooking a beautiful backyard complete with kidney-shaped swimming pool and hot tub, everything shrouded in palm and fruit trees, a high brick wall shutting out the rest of the world.
Jake slid the heavy glass door to the patio open, and both dogs immediately scampered out.
I stood peering out, resting my hands on my hips, admiring the way the sunlight glistened off the chlorinated water. "That's a nice pool," I commented.
"Well, we can go for a swim if you want," he suggested.
I glanced over. He was gazing through the glass as well, his profile handsome and perfect. I stepped closer to him and took a hold of his wrist, turning him towards me. Then I cupped his face in my hands and drowned him in a deep, long kiss, our lips swiftly parting, tongues sliding together, his arms wrapped around my back to pull me in closer. Our mouths remained fastened together for an immeasurable amount of time, the house silent all around us, the dogs running wild in the backyard.
When I finally stepped back, I mumbled, "You taste as good as I remember . . ." licking my lips, trying to gather every last bit of his saliva into my mouth.
He unabashedly shifted the bulge in his cargo shorts, trying to find a suitable position for his obvious erection. Standing there - unshaven, hair slightly disheveled and a little bit longer than I remembered, the muscles of his biceps accentuated by the cotton fabric of the white t-shirt, his feet still tucked into a simple pair of flip-flops - he looked about as inviting as I could have imagined. My urge to drag him over to the large toffee-colored sectional and strip him naked was alarming; the mere thought of actually seeing his body again after so long enough to make me physical shake where I stood.
But I ran a hand through my hair, fighting the impulse, and said, "How `bout we go for that swim?" Although I yearned for him more than anything else in the world, for some odd reason I felt as though our physical reunion needed to be more than just a quick and dirty fuck within the first ten minutes of me being in his house.
He eyed me for a moment with arms crossed, an expression of uncertainty crossing his face as if he was trying to figure me out. Then a sly grin slowly appeared and he said, "Okay, cowboy . . . bedroom's upstairs. Get yourself changed and meet me poolside." Then he turned and headed for the kitchen, his flip flops smacking against the polished oak wood floor.
The endless windows and skylights of the house gave it an open, spacious feel, the main rooms seeming to flow into one another like tributaries. The interior design was contemporary, with furnishings in bright colors and modern art pieces lining the walls. It wasn't exactly what I would have considered Jake's taste to be - but the fact was, I couldn't even be certain of what his taste was. It was, like many other aspects of his life, something I knew very little about.
With this trip, I hoped to change all of that.
Rounding the corner of the upper floor, I passed several guest bedrooms which were immaculate and clean and appeared to have never been used. Then I came upon the master suite at the end of the hall and entered into what was definitely Jake's abode: an enormous teakwood bed with burgundy and black sheets spilling to the floor; plush cream-colored carpet covered in precariously tossed garments; a Scandinavian-style desk piled high with books, papers and a laptop computer; a massive walk-in closet partially opened to reveal clothing hanging from hooks and hangers - books and magazines and shoes piled on the floor.
I stood gazing around for a moment, lost in the reality of actually being in Jake's bedroom - a place I'd only had the opportunity to imagine and daydream about in the weeks that we had been separated. Then I noticed a sliding glass door leading out onto a wide balcony. Briefly stepping out, I peered down at the pool below, its crystal blue water beckoning to me. After a moment, I returned back inside and hoisted my suitcase up onto the bed, rummaging through it until I found my swim trunks. While changing, I could hear the dogs re-enter the house and run around barking until Jake sternly commanded them to stop.
Before heading downstairs, I took a pit stop in the marbled bathroom and stood gawking, amazed at the sheer size of the room - almost as large as my bunkhouse - with a deep whirlpool tub and separate steam shower, even a bidet. Everything was extravagant, and it took me a moment to overcome my brief bout of bathroom-envy, my eyes taking it all in. But eventually I managed to snap out of it and pull myself away. Grabbing my sunglasses, I returned downstairs, padding barefoot across the floor, glancing out of the wall of windows but not seeing Jake anywhere.
"I'm in here," he called out from the kitchen.
I stepped in to find him at the large granite island, flipping steaks over in a marinade, clad only in his blue Hawaiian-print board shorts, sunglasses perched on the top of his head.
"You sure changed quick," I commented, immediately distracted by the bareness of his chest.
"I keep my shorts in the cabana outside." He covered the steaks and went to the refrigerator to place the container inside, returning to me with Heineken bottles in hand. Offering one to me, he said, "You look mighty scrumptious."
I felt color rise to my cheeks, which was highly unusual for me. I quickly opened the beer and took a long swig of the ice-cold liquid, thankful for the diversion. I noticed that the dogs were in the corner, devouring food from large ceramic bowls.
"Come on," Jake coaxed, gesturing to the back door. I followed him outside, and we stepped onto a wide flagstone terrace furnished with plush patio chairs and a glass wrought-iron table, a gigantic grill and brick fireplace stationed off to one side. Jake had already piled up beach towels on two lounge chairs, and music was wafting from hidden speakers somewhere. I recognized the tune immediately.
"Miles Davis . . ." I mumbled, feeling oddly touched by the gesture.
"Yeah," he said, kicking off his flip-flops. "It was one of the first things I bought when I got back home." He set his beer down and approached me with sunblock in hand. "Turn around."
I obeyed, and he squirted the cold cream directly onto my skin. I yelped in jest, and he laughed and proceeded to squirt more. As he rubbed it in - his strong hands massaging my shoulders, neck and back - the chills traveled in circles through me like eddies of water, my knees growing weak, my balls starting to tingle. I shut my eyes, lifted my face to the sun and thought - this is how it should always be: he and I together, with no miles and no phone lines separating us.
Turning me around, he squirted the sunblock onto my chest. Without allowing him to go any further, I pulled him into an embrace, causing the cold, thick cream to rub between us, the hairs on our chests matting together. "I don't care if I get sunburned," I mumbled.
He let the sunblock fall from his hand while his arms encircled me, his face nuzzling into the crook of my neck, his lips gliding over my skin. Shivers flowed through me, and my hands traveled down his back, eventually coming to rest on his firm ass, squeezing lightly.
Without warning, he suddenly stepped back, removing the sunglasses from his head, and approached the pool. In one fluid motion, he dove in, gracefully slicing through the water, emerging a moment later in the shallow end. Pushing his wet hair back, he said, "Well, come on, what the hell are you waiting for?"
I slid into the water and swam over to his side. He immediately grabbed my head in a vise-hold and exclaimed, "You gotta get your hair wet, Cooper!" before springing up and plunging me under. I struggled against him, and soon we were wrestling together, both of us holding tight in an attempt to gain control and shove the other one down while occasionally rising up to gasp for air. This continued for quite some time, neither of us winning the war, our bodies eventually growing weary from the struggle.
When we finally ceased and surrendered, the chemistry between us was white hot, our animal lust completely unfettered now. We clung to one another, kissing fervently, our bodies slick in the water, the taste of chlorine sliding between our frantic tongues. And I didn't give a shit anymore about waiting - I wanted him, and I wanted him right then and there.
Jake braced his feet firmly against the floor of the pool and pushed me up against the stone ledge, his tongue delving deeper and deeper into my mouth as if desperate to be swallowed by me. I grabbed his buttocks and pressed his hips into my own, our hard cocks grinding together like pistols. I slid my mouth down to his neck and nibbled on his earlobe, allowing my tongue to flick around as I whispered, "I wanted to wait . . . but fuck it . . ."
His fingers entwined in my wet hair, gently tugging on my scalp, his breath exhaling loudly with each nip of my teeth on his skin. Grabbing the waistband of his board shorts, I plunged a hand inside and caressed the length of his stiff cock, feeling his balls floating around in the loose fabric. His cock seemed thicker than I'd remembered it to be; because of this, I groaned into his neck, sinking my teeth deeper into his skin, causing him to moan and pull on my hair.
That's when I decided that I needed him in my mouth. Immediately.
In one swift motion, I exchanged positions with him, using all of my strength to lift him up out of the water and onto the ledge, the seat of his shorts scraping against the stone. I grabbed onto the hem of the shorts and yanked, causing him to go backwards. He perched himself on his elbows and attempted to lift his hips while I undressed him. The wet fabric fought me the whole way down - catching on his knees, catching on his ankles, catching on his feet - until I thought I would tear them in two if they didn't give way soon. When they finally pried free, I threw them as far as they would go, hearing them land with a slosh on the distant flagstone.
Fully naked now, Jake sat up, his erect cock beautiful and perfect before me, his pubic hair glistening with moisture in the bright sunlight. Without hesitation, I came forward, slid a hand around his base, and took him into my mouth, allowing the thick shaft to slide in until my mouth was full, the head of his cock poking at the back of my throat. The taste of his pre-cum was exhilarating, and I pulled away and then guided him back in again, removing my hand in order to deep-throat him, pushing him all the way in until his pubes were at my nose.
Jake slid fingers into my wet hair and gasped, "Fuck, Travis, how the fuck do you do that . . . ?"
I looked up at him, and the intensity of his blue eyes further fueled my desire, driving me on. I released him from my mouth and pushed up on one of his thighs until he perched a foot on the ledge, and then I went straight for his lightly-haired asshole, licking the chlorine away, tasting the unique flavor of his man-hole, my erection growing instantly harder in my swim trunks.
He gasped, and I pushed his other thigh up until his puckered hole was now fully exposed to me. My mouth descended on him once more, and he laid back on the hot pavement, taking his cock in hand, moaning and grinding his hips while my tongue eagerly explored him. Although he'd had no trepidation in giving me a rim-job at the hotel, my instinct told me that he himself had never been on the receiving-end of one; the fact that I could bring him pleasure by doing so was enough to send me over the edge myself.
Pulling him open wider, I plunged my tongue through the loosening ring of muscle, wanting to go as deep as possible.
"Uhhh . . ." he gasped, his toes curling, his hand swiftly stroking his stiff cock, his other hand clawing at the pavement.
Desperate to stroke my own dick, I moved my hands to my swim trunks and hastily untied the waistband string to push them down. The fabric billowed in the water as my fully-erect cock floated free, and I grabbed my shaft in a fist-hold, my mouth never leaving Jake's now-pliant hole.
"Shit, Travis . . ." he said, his words trailing off in a pant, his fingers clutching his balls.
I knew he was going to ejaculate soon, so I moved my mouth away and replaced my tongue with two fingers, his sphincter easily allowing me entrance. He groaned deeply, and I pressed on his knees, prompting him to sit up. As he did so, I took his cock into my mouth once more, rhythmically sucking, allowing my tongue to flick against him with each thrust, my hand pressed between the stone ledge and his buttocks while my fingers attempted to rub his prostate.
His whole body seemed to shake, his breath ragged, his mouth open. When he came, he pressed both hands down on my head, forcing me to keep him in while his hot semen shot down my throat. I'd had no intention of releasing him anyway, and so I greedily took it all, determined not to allow a single drop of it to spill out of my mouth, the taste of him too incredible to miss. His hips bucked on the stone ledge while his chute clenched and spasmed around my fingers.
As one final spray of his delicious cum hit my throat, I held the creamy liquid in my mouth and hoisted myself up on two hands, meeting Jake in a semen-filled kiss which he eagerly accepted, his tongue sliding everywhere, his hands clutching my shoulders. My swim trunks were still down around my hips, and he soon noticed this and said, "Get up here," tugging on my slippery waist, trying to pull me up out of the water. I managed to slither out, and he laid back down on the pavement, pulling me with him so that I was still partially in the water and bent in an awkward position.
Patting his chest, he said, "Come here," and I slithered the rest of the way out, straddling either side of his torso while my swim trunks strained against my hips. In one swift motion, he yanked them down further and took my cock in hand, playing with the head of it, an expression of lust and hunger covering his face, his tongue poking out from between his lips.
"You want it?" I asked quietly, wanting to coax him, hoping the desperation in my voice wasn't too obvious.
Without hesitation, he nodded and muttered, "Yeah . . ." while his hands grabbed my buttocks, pulling me in closer.
I scooted forward further, and as he opened his mouth to receive me, I slowly slid just the head of my cock in. The warmth and wetness of his mouth brought such exhilaration that it was difficult to refrain from shoving myself all the way in.
Jake did his very best to accommodate my length, guiding me in further with his hand, a look of determination on his face. I pulled out and then slowly slid back in, repeating this several times, attempting to go deeper but stopping as soon as I felt him gag.
Somehow, the mere appearance of his mouth full of my dick was enough to make me shoot right then and there. I found a steady rhythm, careful not to choke him, and checked his expression to make sure that he was still okay with what I was doing. His blue eyes peered up at me, full of desire and determination, and so I continued on, slowly fucking his beautiful mouth, my balls preparing for release, blood racing through my veins.
It had been such a long time since I'd had the pleasure of being in someone's mouth . . .
Then suddenly a vision of Doug swallowing me in the men's room floated into view. I silently cursed it away, pissed that my mind would choose to play a cruel joke on me at such a critical moment. "I didn't even fucking cum," I told myself, trying to block the image.
Jake looked up at me as if sensing something was amiss. I shut my eyes and threw my head back, continuing the rhythm of fucking his mouth, concentrating on reaching orgasm. It didn't take long for Doug to disappear - especially when Jake poked a finger at my asshole, wriggling his way in.
When I came, it was a tremendous amount, ropes of my semen shooting out in long spasms while deep groans escaped through my clenched teeth. Jake was eager to swallow what he could, trying to take me all in. But when he started to gag, I pulled out and finished shooting on his face; he shut his eyes and flicked his tongue around, trying to gather the cum into his mouth, muttering, "Fuck yeah, fuckin' cover me . . ." I scooped some up and fed it to him, and he eagerly sucked on my fingers, his hands roughly clutching my buttocks.
When all was said and done and I was finally able to catch my breath, I moved off of his chest and laid down beside him, pulling him into my arms, kissing his mouth and licking beads of remaining cum from his face, my heart rate slowly returning to normal.
After a moment, he muttered, "That was fucking fantastic," his fingers running over my back.
"Mmmm," was all I could mutter, still feeling breathless.
He disentangled himself from me and stood up, his cock still half-hard and bouncing as he sauntered around to the deep end of the pool. I watched as he dove in - so perfect, his entrance into the water barely making a sound. When he resurfaced, he floated around on his back for a moment to bask in the sun, his cock peeking out above the water.
I gathered my senses together and headed over to the lounge chairs to grab our beers. When I returned to the pool, I sat down on the edge and dangled my ankles into the cool water. Eventually, Jake floated over to me and took his beer in hand. He held the bottle up, squinting at me, and said, "Let's make a toast."
"Okay," I responded, holding my bottle out as well. "How about . . . to Miles Davis . . . skinny-dipping . . . and getting reacquainted with the guy I'm crazy about."
The corners of his mouth turned up. "Crazy about?"
I reached out and caressed his stubbled cheek with my knuckles, a surge of emotion pouring through me. "Yeah . . ." I whispered. "Completely crazy."
I realized the reality of my words; being with him, seeing him, connecting with him - it had all produced a powerful feeling in me.
His smile broadened as he clinked his bottle to mine. We each took long swigs of the sun-warmed beer and belched simultaneously. Then Jake set his bottle down, removed mine from my hand, and tugged on my wrists, pulling me down into the water, the scrape of stone against my bare ass causing me to yelp.
"Come here," he quietly coaxed, turning me around to embrace me from behind.
I rested my head on his shoulder, and he languidly pulled me around the pool while my body floated weightless in the water, a sensation of complete and utter serenity washing over me, the memories of the ranch, the round-up, and Doug already seeping from my mind.
"Let's never get out of here," I whispered, closing my eyes.
He leaned over and kissed me softly. I reached up a hand to run my fingers through his wet hair, then flipped around in the water and stood up, pulling him into my arms, burying my face in his neck.
"You're so great," I muttered.
There was a pause.
And then Jake whispered, "I'm . . . crazy about you , too, Cooper."
In my gut, I knew that he'd wanted to say "love", but that he'd held back knowing it was still taboo. It was such a fucking foolish thing - being terrified of a simple word, all because of what someone had done to me a long time ago - and yet I couldn't help but be relieved by the fact that he'd avoided saying it.
In ridiculous overcompensation for my absurdity, I grabbed Jake in a choke-hold and pushed him under the water, triggering another wrestling match. He eagerly joined-in, grabbing me as tight as he could, the rough play soon pushing away the awkwardness I felt, my insecurities kept at bay for just a little while longer.
Eventually, I would have to come to terms with the demons still lingering inside my mind. And in my heart. Until then, I could only hope that Jake would find the patience - and the strength - to stick it out with me.
The evening was quiet and calm, the sky violet with sunset, the flames from the patio fire casting shadows across the terrace where we sat on a cushioned loveseat, surrounded by empty beer bottles and remnants of dinner. Jake had grilled t-bone and shrimp, offering me a taste of his culinary talents, leaving me stuffed and drowsy.
The dogs lay on the flagstone floor, contentedly nawing on leftover steak, the sound of their teeth grinding against bone strangely hypnotic to me. I'd had a few too many beers - as had Jake - and so we both lounged rather comatose on the loveseat, clad only in shorts and t-shirts, our eyes droopy, our bodies relaxed.
I rubbed my stomach and bemoaned my digestive discomfort. "I ate way too much," I complained. "But it was the best steak I've ever had in my whole entire life."
Jake grinned, looking at me through half-closed eyelids. "The secret's in the marinade."
"Well . . . whatever the secret is, you sure know how to do it."
"Thanks," he said. "But no one cooks as good as your mom."
"True," I conceded. "But she's been at it a lot longer. As a rancher's wife, she's had to cook for up to twenty people at a time. You gain a lot of experience doing that."
Jake sat up. "Maybe I need to start throwing more dinner parties then."
I gently pulled him down to where I was half-sitting, half-laying. He rested his head on my chest, and I ran my fingers along the hem of his t-shirt, pushing it up slightly so that I could touch his skin, breathing in his scent of chlorine and soap. "Okay," I muttered softly. "But no dinner parties until I'm gone. I don't want any distractions."
Jake lifted his head to look up at me. "You'll be at a dinner party Tuesday night," he stated.
"Oh yeah?" The proposal was something new to me; I'd heard nothing about a dinner party, or any other events that Jake may have planned for my visit.
"Yeah," he said. "My parents are throwing a shindig in celebration of my dad's poetry getting published. Lots of people will be there."
A tinge of panic swept over me. I was someone who tried to avoid crowds, especially those filled with pretentious, wealthy people whom I'd never met before. And the fact that I would meet Jake's parents for the first time added another element of dread.
"Are you sure . . .?" I asked quietly.
He perched himself up on an elbow and peered at me. "Sure about what?"
"Sure about taking me home to meet the folks."
His eyes flickered. "Well, they don't know about us, if that's what you mean."
Although I realized how ridiculous it was for me to assume that he'd revealed our relationship to his parents - or to anyone for that matter - I still couldn't help but feel disappointment creep in, a small part of me secretly wishing that he had.
I forced a grin, not wanting to spoil the moment by getting too heavy. "So I guess that means we can't make-out with each other," I said.
He grinned back, his blue eyes creasing. He lightly tugged on the collar of my shirt and said, "Oh, I'm sure we could find a nice dark corner somewhere . . ."
"God, please don't tell me I need to wear a tuxedo," I moaned, dread in my voice.
"You'd look handsome in a monkey suit."
"I'd look better out of one."
He scooted forward, his body pressing against mine, the heat from the fire already causing us to sweat together. "I know you would . . ." he whispered, then planted a kiss on my lips, long and deep and sensuous.
I pushed his t-shirt up, sliding it all the way to his neck until he sat up slightly and allowed me to pull it over his head. After tossing it aside, I rejoined my lips to his, feeling his hand travel down to my shorts, anticipating the touch of his fingers on my hardening bulge, excited by the prospect of fucking before the fire.
But suddenly a loud buzzing pierced the air, causing us to jump while the dogs immediately started barking. The irritating noise was repeated several times in rapid succession until Jake finally stood up, grabbed his t-shirt, and marched to the sliding glass door. "Somebody's at the goddamn gate," he cursed, then bid me to stay and disappeared into the house, the dogs following at his heels.
I waited a few minutes until eventually curiosity got the best of me. When I stepped to the front door, I found it open and Jake standing outside with a group of three people - a guy and two girls, a BMW parked in the circular drive.
At my arrival, everyone turned to look at me.
"Hey," the guy said, stepping forward to shake my hand. "Travis, right? >From Colorado?"
"Yeah."
"I'm Austin."
"Nice to meet you," I stated.
Then suddenly the three newcomers were passing by me, heading into the house, discussing night clubs and pool parties. Only Jake lingered behind, his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts, a look of apology and defeat on his face.
"Sorry about this," he mumbled.
I shrugged. "It's no big deal."
But I knew that it was - just as he knew that it was. Our evening together had just been cut short. And even worse was the fact that we would have to pretend to just be friends, despite the undeniable urge to touch one another.
"Come on," he said, grasping my elbow and propelling me to the door. "Let's make the best of things . . . There's always opportunity to resume where we left off once they're gone . . ."
Reluctantly, I conceded.
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