Fic: New York State of Mind
Title: New York State of Mind
Author: jenlynn820
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I don’t know Zach or Chris and I make no profit from this work.
Summary: Chris visits Zach in NYC.
Beta: eruberueth
Note: This story is based on actual events. In certain cases, incidents, characters and timelines have been changed for dramatic purposes. No actors were harmed in the writing of this fanfic. Title from the Billy Joel song of the same name. Snippet from Shakespeare Sonnet 116 included.
Word Count: 4,034
I've seen all the movie stars in their fancy cars and their limousines.
Been high in the Rockies under the evergreens.
I know what I'm needin', and I don't wanna waste more time.
I'm in a New York state of mind.
i.
The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and greasy food. Chris picked up a French fry and eyed it suspiciously, watching it fold itself in half, pulled down by the weight of oil and salt and gravity. He frowned and dropped it onto the plate.
“You’re not going to eat those?” Patrick said from across the small table, chair half turned towards the small makeshift stage where a girl with stringy hair plucked at her guitar and keened about love lost. Chris focused his attention on her for the first time, really listening to the lyrics. He regretted it almost instantly as his stomach lurched from a combination of hunger and ennui. The girl didn’t look much older than twenty. What could she know about love lost? Chris was jerked back out of his head by Patrick waving a few mushy French fries in his face.
“They’re all yours,” Chris said, pushing the plate forward.
Patrick grinned and dumped some ketchup on top before digging in. “On a diet?”
“What? No.” Chris said.
Patrick nodded, sipping his beer as he swallowed a mouthful of fries. “Hunger strike ‘til Zach comes home?”
“No,” Chris said, his own voice sounding a little too insistent in his own ears.
Patrick only smiled. “You could just go see him,” he said, all nonchalance and casual disinterest.
“Yeah,” Chris said, lifting his glass of scotch to his lips and taking a long swallow.
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “If you weren’t such a stubborn ass.”
Chris frowned more deeply, drained his drink, ordered a third and turned his attention away from Patrick and toward the girl with the guitar, who had, inexplicably, begun a cover of “Desperado”. A groan escaped Chris’ mouth before he could suppress it. He caught Patrick’s eyes.
“Come down from your fences, buddy,” Patrick said, sagely.
Chris tossed a handful of pretzels at his friend before excusing himself to use the men's room.
ii.
“Why are we here, again?” Chris said.
Patrick smiled. “I’m helping you find Jesus.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “I’ve already found him. He’s in the trunk of my car,” he said.
“The trunk of your car is too small to fit the body of a grown man,” Patrick pointed out.
“Way to ruin a joke, buddy. Seriously, though. Why are we here?”
“I grew up Catholic. It’s Easter Sunday. I like to go to mass,” Patrick said.
“But why am I here?” Chris asked.
“Why are any of us here, Christopher?” Patrick said.
Chris shook his head. It was just one of those times he wasn’t going to get a straight answer. Besides, he was pretty sure he already knew the reason Patrick brought him here. It was just the latest in Patrick’s ongoing mission to distract Chris from how much he missed Zach by dragging him here, there, and everywhere. Chris shifted in his seat and took out his Blackberry. There were three texts from Zach. Chris couldn’t keep the little smile off his face or stop the way his stomach fluttered as he read the carefully chosen words. He tapped out a reply and hit send.
“How’s Zach?” Patrick asked.
“Loving New York,” Chris said, hating how bitter he felt when he said the words.
“Is that what he said in his texts?” Patrick said.
“No,” Chris said. “Not in those words. One is about the play he saw last night; another is about the party he went to afterwards.”
“That’s it?” Patrick said.
“No.”
“So what else did he say?” Patrick said.
“None of your damn business,” Chris said.
“You shouldn’t say damn in a church,” his friend said.
“Fuck you,” Chris said with a grin.
Patrick chuckled. “Was it sappy love shit that grown men who consider themselves to be hipsters who are beyond cool have no business saying to other grown men who think they’re too manly for that ooey gooey love bullshit?”
Chris felt red splotches bloom on his cheeks. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat and stuffed his phone into his suit pocket. “I think the service is going to start.”
“I bet when Zach focuses his pretentiousness into expressions of love the angels themselves doth weep,” Patrick said.
“Quiet. I’m trying to be one with God.”
Patrick laughed and went silent, much to Chris’ relief. The mass had begun when Patrick leaned close and whispered in Chris’ ear. “Stop being a douche bag and just go see him.”
“You shouldn’t say douche bag in church,” Chris said, a little too loudly, earning a look from the priest. Chris coughed into his hand and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Father. I’m half Jewish.”
Patrick snorted loudly and Chris’ shoulders began to shake with silent laughter as the priest frowned and then picked up where he left off.
iii.
There were naked girls writhing above him. Chris blinked and looked away, back at Patrick who was finishing up an amusing story about… something. Not that it mattered; Chris had heard all of Patrick’s amusing stories. Patrick clapped Chris on the arm.
“Having fun?” he said.
“Yeah,” Chris said, forcing a big smile onto his face. He gripped his bottle of beer and tipped his head back as he took a drink.
“That was convincing,” Patrick said, with a laugh.
“No, seriously. This is awesome. I mean, I can’t remember the last time there were naked girls writhing around every time I looked up.”
“Berkeley, I’d guess,” Patrick offered.
Chris let out the first genuine burst of laughter he’d had in what felt like forever. “Yeah,” he said. “You know, I haven’t-I mean, thanks.”
“For what?” Patrick asked.
“Your efforts to make sure I don’t spend all my time alone in my martyrdom.”
Patrick smirked. “Oh, that. I know how much you like to suffer in silence so I guess I should be apologizing,” he said.
“No,” Chris said. “I mean, I do. I sort of enjoy it in demented way. I like the hurt, you know? I like that-” Chris stopped mid-sentence and took another long swallow for courage. “I guess I like that it hurts because that means it’s real, right? If I miss him then it’s not like every other relationship I’ve ever had.”
“Jeez, you’re fucked up, man,” Patrick said a smile on his lips as he shook his head.
“No, I’m not,” Chris said. “I’m growing, is what I mean.”
“Growing? Because you’re staying in LA enjoying your suffering while your boyfriend is on the East coast?”
“No, not that. Because I can admit that I-that I don’t like being without him. That things are better with Zach than without.”
“That’s all well and good but don’t you think enough is enough? Isn’t it time to stop enjoying missing Zach because you think it’s a sign of your evolution and just go see the man?”
“I don’t want to be that guy,” Chris said.
“What guy?”
“That needy guy who can’t go a few months without seeing his boyfriend. That guy.”
“Newsflash, Chris. You’re that guy already. And what’s wrong with it? You’re making yourself miserable for a pretty fucked up reason.”
“Maybe,” Chris said. “Or maybe I’m not sure Zach has room for me.”
“Now you’re being an idiot. Just because Zach is loving his time in New York doesn’t mean he doesn’t have room for you in his life.”
“Man, you don’t hear what I hear from him. He’s so caught up in it. I don’t know,” Chris said.
“You don’t know,” Patrick said. He shook his head and then reached out, digging his hand into Chris’ right front pocket.
“Hey!” Chris protested. “Look, pal, I’m lonely but I’m not that lonely.”
Patrick gave Chris a look before pulling out Chris’ Blackberry. He began toying with it, thumb rolling over the trackball.
“Give that back, what’re you doing?” Chris said, making a grab for the phone but coming up empty as Patrick twisted out of his reach.
“ It aches. It twists around. Burrows deeper. Deeper. You’re here. You’re inside me. Should I go on? Shit, man, what’s next? Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds?”
Chris was flushed red, his ears burning. “It’s not… That’s just-”
“Just what?”
Chris couldn’t reply. He shuffled his feet and looked away for a few seconds. “I have meetings. Auditions. And stuff."
Patrick lifted an eyebrow. "And stuff?"
"Yes. And Zach’s schedule in New York is insane. He books every single minute of every day with something. I don’t know” he said at last, burying his hands in his pockets.
“Excuses,” Patrick said. He looked at the phone again, began pushing keys.
“What are you doing now?” Chris said.
Patrick waved him off until he was done and then handed the phone back to Chris.
Chris looked at the screen. Patrick had sent Zach a text message. Zach, this is Patrick commandeering Chris’ phone. Taking him to NY in two weeks. Clear your calendar. He misses you so much he’s like an emo teenager who’s lost his favorite black t-shirt. Chris was about to tell Patrick all about the painful way he intended to kill him when the phone chimed and the light blinked red. Chris’s hand trembled slightly as he tapped the trackball. The message from Zach read: ’Bout fucking time. See you then. Chris inhaled as deeply as he could.
“You can thank me by buying the next round,” Patrick said.
“Yeah, okay,” Chris said, stuffing the phone into his pocket and heading to the bar so he could pay up.
iv.
The flight felt ridiculously long. Longer than six hours. Longer than six years. It felt like an eternity, an endless string of unending time and space between Los Angeles and New York. Chris got lost inside his head, counting the seconds, trying to prove to himself that time was in fact proceeding onward. Patrick bumped their shoulders together and Chris looked over.
“We’re about to land. Might want to buckle up. How am I going to explain it to Zach if you end up a splatter against the roof of the plane?”
Chris’s stomach clenched. He struggled to get himself buckled in and succeeded just as the plane began to make its descent. They were outside the terminal, waiting for a taxi before Patrick spoke again.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said.
Chris looked over at his friend. “Who’s nervous?” Chris said, fidgeting with the buttons of his grey wool cardigan for the umpteenth time.
“Not you, clearly. Me though, I’m nervous,” Patrick said.
“What about?”
“Seeing Zach,” he said.
“Don’t mock me,” Chris said.
“I’m not,” Patrick insisted. “He’s just so aloof and smart.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “He’s really not. Aloof I mean. And I’m smarter than he is,” Chris said with a grin. “And you’re an asshole for making fun of me. You’ve hung out with Zach before, why would you be nervous?”
“You’re the one who fucks him and you’re nervous so I thought I should be too, you know, solidarity,” Patrick said.
“It’s just been awhile and-what if-people can change-or grow beyond other people,” Chris said.
“You’re cute when you’re insecure,” Patrick said.
“Fuck off,” Chris said, laughing.
“Do I have to grab your phone and read Zach’s sexting to you again? I will if I have to but I copped way more of a feel than I ever wanted to last time so I’d just as soon not do it again,” Patrick said.
“Fine, I’m an idiot who’s nervous about seeing his boyfriend. I’m a grown fucking man who feels like a giddy virginal school girl. Happy?”
“Delighted. That’s our taxi, get in,” Patrick said.
Chris yanked the door open and slid inside, Patrick scooting in next to him. Chris took his phone out, texted Zach that they were on their way.
“Don’t worry. Zach will be gentle when he deflowers you, I’m sure,” Patrick said.
“You’re such a support.”
Patrick held out his fist and bumped Chris’. “Bros before ho’s.”
Chris snorted and looked out the window as the car left the airport and made the turn for Manhattan.
v.
Chris rapped lightly on the door, looking down at his scuffed sneakers. He heard the groan of metal turning, heard a heavy click and stepped back. The door opened and Chris’ heart started to slam. Eyes the color of dark amber met Chris’ and every worry, every silly, irrational fear he’d felt since Zach left L.A. fled. “Hey,” Chris said.
Zach’s mouth curled in a gentle smile. He reached out, took hold of the strap on Chris’ shoulder and stepped back into the apartment, tossing the duffle bag aside. Chris followed and reached behind himself, blindly grabbing at the doorknob and pulling it shut. Zach was right in front of him then, hands on his waist, then sliding up his arms, then cupping his face, cradling his skull. Zach took a half step forward and their torsos touched, their hips made contact. Chris licked his lips and parted them and in the space of a breath Zach’s mouth was on his.
It felt like home. It was warm and soft and Chris sank into it, pressed his mouth harder against Zach’s. Zach pushed his tongue into Chris’ mouth and the taste of Zach overpowered him. The kiss was sweet and hot and maddeningly brief.
A gasp, a weak, needy little protest fell from Chris’ lips as Zach drew back. Zach took his hand and led Chris through the apartment and into a bedroom. The shades were down, the sun kept out of the room, creating darkness in the day. Chris started to fumble with the buttons of his sweater but Zach’s steady fingers brushed his away. Chris shrugged the cardigan off and then the rest of his clothes followed, along with Zach’s, discarded and forgotten on the carpeted floor.
Zach pushed Chris onto the bed, pressed him down into the thick mattress with his strong, lean body. Chris ran his hands over Zach’s skin, feeling the taut muscles just below the surface. Zach rolled his hips and Chris let out a puff of breath. Zach curled his shoulders and kissed Chris’ throat, fingers running teasingly down Chris’ sides. One hand laid flat against Chris’ thigh, caressing the skin, inching around and brushing the back.
Chris opened his legs wide for Zach, bent his knees, giving Zach space to settle between. Zach knelt between Chris’ thighs, bent himself low so that their lips could touch again. Zach dragged his lips downward, over Chris’ chin, sliding whisper soft against his throat. Throaty little moans issues from Chris’ mouth as Zach’s skidded down his body, over his chest, pausing at his belly, then moving south again over his thighs, then inward until Zach’s hot breath puffed against Chris’ cock.
Chris hissed, hips lifting involuntarily. Zach braced his hands against Chris, holding him down as he brought his lips to the overheated flesh of Chris’ length. Zach’s hot mouth sucked along Chris’ shaft, dropped gentle kisses here and there, tongue slithering around and around, flicking at the head, sending wild frissons up Chris’ spine.
Chris’ hands fisted in the sheets and he rasped Zach’s name as the other man reversed his course, his mouth following the same torturously delicious path back up Chris’ body. When their lips touched again Chris could taste a hint of his own flavor on Zach’s tongue. Chris reached for Zach, gripping his shoulders and dragging him in for a greedy, untamed kiss.
Zach moved, settling into position. Chris saw Zach’s arm stretch out, heard a drawer slide open. Chris’ train of thought was interrupted by the press of Zach’s finger to his entrance, by the feeling of being teased open. Desire coiled low in Chris’ stomach, twisting, fluttering inside him. He reached for Zach’s face, kissed him hard and shook his head slightly when their eyes met. Zach returned the kiss, hard and deep, then let it ebb until it was slow and tender. He brushed his lips along Chris’ cheek until his mouth was near Chris’ ear. “I love you,” Zach whispered, his finger slipping from Chris’ body, his body shifting, slotting into place, molding against Chris, giving Chris the ridiculously romantic idea that they were made to fit together this way.
Zach fingers twined with Chris’ fingers, pressed against the bed for leverage. The other hand rested against Chris’ hip, Zach’s palm felt warm, so warm it could have left an imprint in its wake. Chris let his head gall back, felt the soft touch of Zach’s mouth to his Adam’s apple followed by Zach’s cock filling him. Zach throbbed inside him, hard and so so deep. Zach snapped his hips and Chris cried out, molten heat burning through his veins, radiating from belly as the coil tightened.
Zach canted his hips, drove himself harder and deeper with every stroke. Chris spread his legs even wider, one dangling over the edge of the bed. He lifted up, aching for more, needing to take Zach deeper inside of himself. Zach slammed himself down, rattling their bodies, shaking the bed. The movements were uneven, a broken melody; clanging, crashing, riotous and darkly beautiful. Chris pulled Zach’s hand between them, guided the other man’s fingers around his cock. Their fingers remained tangled together as they worked together to stroke Chris’ length.
Zach set the pace, kept it slower than that of their bodies. Chris’ breath came in huffs, undercut by jagged moans. He tightened his fingers around Zach’s and Zach squeezed, jerking and tugging, matching the wild to and fro motion of their lovemaking.
Pleasure lit through Chris in a flood. Wave crashed against wave, drowning Chris. It was golden, honey sweet, and all consuming. Chris lay against the bed spent, Zach still pounding into him, rumbling through him like aftershocks. Chris closed his eyes as liquid heat surged through his frame and Zach slumped heavily against him.
Chris caught his breath, was taking in long, satisfying draughts of air that smelled of sex and Zach. Chris felt Zach’s mouth on his, felt an easy, familiar kiss begin to take shape. He opened his eyes and smiled.
“Hey,” Zach said.
Chris chuckled. “Hey.”
“Welcome to New York,” he said.
“Thanks,” Chris said.
“I should be angry at you,” Zach said.
Chris frowned, pushing Zach a little so that Zach got the hint and rolled off of him. Chris sat up and picked up Zach’s pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. He tapped one out and lit it up, taking a drag. “Angry with me?” he asked.
“For staying away for so long. I thought you were pissed at me,” Zach said.
“Why would I be pissed at you?” Chris asked, befuddled.
“For liking it here. For leaving you there,” Zach said.
Chris swallowed. “I’m not upset that you like it here. I get it, Zach, I do. I know you need to feel creative. I know that you felt stifled in L.A.,” he said.
“Yes, creatively, yes. I felt like I was running into nothing but dead ends,” Zach said. “It’s not like that here.”
“I know,” Chris said.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? It’s not enough I sent those cloyingly romantic texts, is it?”
Chris was smiling now. “No, it’s not.”
Zach inhaled and then breathed out. “You’re the only thing I miss from L.A.”
“What about your cat and your dog?” Chris said, an eyebrow quirking up.
“I can bring them here if I stay longer. I can bring everything here. Except you.”
“I’m here now,” Chris said.
“Not full time. It’s just a visit. A visit you had to be forced into, I might add,” Zach said.
“I didn’t want to impose,” Chris.
“Bullshit. You had it in your head it was unmanly to miss me.”
“Maybe,” Chris said.
“You’re a fucking idiot sometimes,” Zach said, shaking his head.
Chris shifted on the bed, getting closer. “Yeah, I know. You could’ve invited me.”
Zach let out a little exasperated laughter. “I did. Right before I left I said ‘come see me, okay?’ Remember that?”
“Yeah, but, you know, I thought that was just something you said because it’s something you say when you go somewhere and leave your boyfriend behind.”
“I can’t even begin to untangle that sentence,” Zach said, rubbing his forehead. “But you should know by now I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
“Fine, you win. I might have acted like a stubborn ass in this one instance,” Chris muttered.
Zach wrapped a hand behind Chris’ neck. “I love winning,” he said with a smirk and kissed Chris.
“Losing doesn’t feel so bad, actually,” Chris said.
“Good, get used to it. By the way, where’s Patrick?” Zach asked.
“Hotel.”
“You abandoned him at a hotel? Isn’t that a little rude?” Zach said.
“Well, I thought it might be awkward if I brought him here and he had to listen to us fuck as he played with his iPad in the living room.”
“That’s not a euphemism, right?” Zach said.
Chris snorted. “No.”
“Call him. Tell him to meet us downstairs, we’ll head over to the park, take in the New York sun.”
“You have sun out here?”
“We have everything,” Zach said. Then he met Chris’ eyes and touched his cheek. “Well, now we do.”
“You’re such a sap,” Chris said, trying for nonchalance but hearing just the tiniest crack to his voice.
“That’s me, Zach the sap,” Zach said. “Next time I’ll text you some Shakespeare so that there’s no doubt. Maybe a little ‘love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: o no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken’.”
Chris laughed and bent over the side of the bed to get his phone out of his jeans. “Patrick chose the exact same sonnet when he was mocking me about your texts,” Chris said, typing out a message to Patrick to meet him downstairs ASAP.
“Did he? I think this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Zach smiled.
Chris shook his head. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Zach said, kissing Chris’ lips. “You want to hop in the shower and clean up?”
“Why? Patrick knows we fucked. Besides, doesn’t everyone in New York smell?”
Zach shook his head. “You say that to the wrong person you’re going to get stabbed.”
“You’ll protect me,” Chris said.
“I’m not taking a knife for you,” Zach said.
“I thought you loved me,” Chris said, his hand going to his heart as if he’d been wounded.
“More than sonnets and overwrought texts and New York City combined,” Zach said, his voice somber and low, his breath blowing over Chris’ lips as he got very close.
“An ever-fixed mark,” Chris said.
Zach nodded. “Exactly.”
They kissed again and Chris ran his fingers over Zach’s wet, swollen lips. “I love you, too. Let’s go see this East coast sun of yours.”
Zach was smiling as they got out of bed and back into their clothes. Chris slipped his cardigan back on, ran his fingers through his hair. “Am I presentable?”
“You’ll do,” Zach said, opening the door and letting Chris out first.
They got downstairs and waited for Patrick’s cab to pull up. Chris put his sunglasses on and looked at the robin’s egg blue sky. “Not bad.” Zach squeezed his shoulder and risked a soft brush of his lips to Chris’ cheek. Chris turned his attention to Zach, caught a glimpse of Zach’s soft brown eyes before he hid them behind his own sunglasses. “New York does have its charms,” he murmured, mostly to himself, letting the tips of his fingers brush against Zach’s before they stepped to a reasonable distance to wait for their friend’s arrival.
.fin
Author: jenlynn820
Pairing: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I don’t know Zach or Chris and I make no profit from this work.
Summary: Chris visits Zach in NYC.
Beta: eruberueth
Note: This story is based on actual events. In certain cases, incidents, characters and timelines have been changed for dramatic purposes. No actors were harmed in the writing of this fanfic. Title from the Billy Joel song of the same name. Snippet from Shakespeare Sonnet 116 included.
Word Count: 4,034
I've seen all the movie stars in their fancy cars and their limousines.
Been high in the Rockies under the evergreens.
I know what I'm needin', and I don't wanna waste more time.
I'm in a New York state of mind.
i.
The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and greasy food. Chris picked up a French fry and eyed it suspiciously, watching it fold itself in half, pulled down by the weight of oil and salt and gravity. He frowned and dropped it onto the plate.
“You’re not going to eat those?” Patrick said from across the small table, chair half turned towards the small makeshift stage where a girl with stringy hair plucked at her guitar and keened about love lost. Chris focused his attention on her for the first time, really listening to the lyrics. He regretted it almost instantly as his stomach lurched from a combination of hunger and ennui. The girl didn’t look much older than twenty. What could she know about love lost? Chris was jerked back out of his head by Patrick waving a few mushy French fries in his face.
“They’re all yours,” Chris said, pushing the plate forward.
Patrick grinned and dumped some ketchup on top before digging in. “On a diet?”
“What? No.” Chris said.
Patrick nodded, sipping his beer as he swallowed a mouthful of fries. “Hunger strike ‘til Zach comes home?”
“No,” Chris said, his own voice sounding a little too insistent in his own ears.
Patrick only smiled. “You could just go see him,” he said, all nonchalance and casual disinterest.
“Yeah,” Chris said, lifting his glass of scotch to his lips and taking a long swallow.
“Yeah,” Patrick said. “If you weren’t such a stubborn ass.”
Chris frowned more deeply, drained his drink, ordered a third and turned his attention away from Patrick and toward the girl with the guitar, who had, inexplicably, begun a cover of “Desperado”. A groan escaped Chris’ mouth before he could suppress it. He caught Patrick’s eyes.
“Come down from your fences, buddy,” Patrick said, sagely.
Chris tossed a handful of pretzels at his friend before excusing himself to use the men's room.
ii.
“Why are we here, again?” Chris said.
Patrick smiled. “I’m helping you find Jesus.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “I’ve already found him. He’s in the trunk of my car,” he said.
“The trunk of your car is too small to fit the body of a grown man,” Patrick pointed out.
“Way to ruin a joke, buddy. Seriously, though. Why are we here?”
“I grew up Catholic. It’s Easter Sunday. I like to go to mass,” Patrick said.
“But why am I here?” Chris asked.
“Why are any of us here, Christopher?” Patrick said.
Chris shook his head. It was just one of those times he wasn’t going to get a straight answer. Besides, he was pretty sure he already knew the reason Patrick brought him here. It was just the latest in Patrick’s ongoing mission to distract Chris from how much he missed Zach by dragging him here, there, and everywhere. Chris shifted in his seat and took out his Blackberry. There were three texts from Zach. Chris couldn’t keep the little smile off his face or stop the way his stomach fluttered as he read the carefully chosen words. He tapped out a reply and hit send.
“How’s Zach?” Patrick asked.
“Loving New York,” Chris said, hating how bitter he felt when he said the words.
“Is that what he said in his texts?” Patrick said.
“No,” Chris said. “Not in those words. One is about the play he saw last night; another is about the party he went to afterwards.”
“That’s it?” Patrick said.
“No.”
“So what else did he say?” Patrick said.
“None of your damn business,” Chris said.
“You shouldn’t say damn in a church,” his friend said.
“Fuck you,” Chris said with a grin.
Patrick chuckled. “Was it sappy love shit that grown men who consider themselves to be hipsters who are beyond cool have no business saying to other grown men who think they’re too manly for that ooey gooey love bullshit?”
Chris felt red splotches bloom on his cheeks. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat and stuffed his phone into his suit pocket. “I think the service is going to start.”
“I bet when Zach focuses his pretentiousness into expressions of love the angels themselves doth weep,” Patrick said.
“Quiet. I’m trying to be one with God.”
Patrick laughed and went silent, much to Chris’ relief. The mass had begun when Patrick leaned close and whispered in Chris’ ear. “Stop being a douche bag and just go see him.”
“You shouldn’t say douche bag in church,” Chris said, a little too loudly, earning a look from the priest. Chris coughed into his hand and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Father. I’m half Jewish.”
Patrick snorted loudly and Chris’ shoulders began to shake with silent laughter as the priest frowned and then picked up where he left off.
iii.
There were naked girls writhing above him. Chris blinked and looked away, back at Patrick who was finishing up an amusing story about… something. Not that it mattered; Chris had heard all of Patrick’s amusing stories. Patrick clapped Chris on the arm.
“Having fun?” he said.
“Yeah,” Chris said, forcing a big smile onto his face. He gripped his bottle of beer and tipped his head back as he took a drink.
“That was convincing,” Patrick said, with a laugh.
“No, seriously. This is awesome. I mean, I can’t remember the last time there were naked girls writhing around every time I looked up.”
“Berkeley, I’d guess,” Patrick offered.
Chris let out the first genuine burst of laughter he’d had in what felt like forever. “Yeah,” he said. “You know, I haven’t-I mean, thanks.”
“For what?” Patrick asked.
“Your efforts to make sure I don’t spend all my time alone in my martyrdom.”
Patrick smirked. “Oh, that. I know how much you like to suffer in silence so I guess I should be apologizing,” he said.
“No,” Chris said. “I mean, I do. I sort of enjoy it in demented way. I like the hurt, you know? I like that-” Chris stopped mid-sentence and took another long swallow for courage. “I guess I like that it hurts because that means it’s real, right? If I miss him then it’s not like every other relationship I’ve ever had.”
“Jeez, you’re fucked up, man,” Patrick said a smile on his lips as he shook his head.
“No, I’m not,” Chris said. “I’m growing, is what I mean.”
“Growing? Because you’re staying in LA enjoying your suffering while your boyfriend is on the East coast?”
“No, not that. Because I can admit that I-that I don’t like being without him. That things are better with Zach than without.”
“That’s all well and good but don’t you think enough is enough? Isn’t it time to stop enjoying missing Zach because you think it’s a sign of your evolution and just go see the man?”
“I don’t want to be that guy,” Chris said.
“What guy?”
“That needy guy who can’t go a few months without seeing his boyfriend. That guy.”
“Newsflash, Chris. You’re that guy already. And what’s wrong with it? You’re making yourself miserable for a pretty fucked up reason.”
“Maybe,” Chris said. “Or maybe I’m not sure Zach has room for me.”
“Now you’re being an idiot. Just because Zach is loving his time in New York doesn’t mean he doesn’t have room for you in his life.”
“Man, you don’t hear what I hear from him. He’s so caught up in it. I don’t know,” Chris said.
“You don’t know,” Patrick said. He shook his head and then reached out, digging his hand into Chris’ right front pocket.
“Hey!” Chris protested. “Look, pal, I’m lonely but I’m not that lonely.”
Patrick gave Chris a look before pulling out Chris’ Blackberry. He began toying with it, thumb rolling over the trackball.
“Give that back, what’re you doing?” Chris said, making a grab for the phone but coming up empty as Patrick twisted out of his reach.
“ It aches. It twists around. Burrows deeper. Deeper. You’re here. You’re inside me. Should I go on? Shit, man, what’s next? Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds?”
Chris was flushed red, his ears burning. “It’s not… That’s just-”
“Just what?”
Chris couldn’t reply. He shuffled his feet and looked away for a few seconds. “I have meetings. Auditions. And stuff."
Patrick lifted an eyebrow. "And stuff?"
"Yes. And Zach’s schedule in New York is insane. He books every single minute of every day with something. I don’t know” he said at last, burying his hands in his pockets.
“Excuses,” Patrick said. He looked at the phone again, began pushing keys.
“What are you doing now?” Chris said.
Patrick waved him off until he was done and then handed the phone back to Chris.
Chris looked at the screen. Patrick had sent Zach a text message. Zach, this is Patrick commandeering Chris’ phone. Taking him to NY in two weeks. Clear your calendar. He misses you so much he’s like an emo teenager who’s lost his favorite black t-shirt. Chris was about to tell Patrick all about the painful way he intended to kill him when the phone chimed and the light blinked red. Chris’s hand trembled slightly as he tapped the trackball. The message from Zach read: ’Bout fucking time. See you then. Chris inhaled as deeply as he could.
“You can thank me by buying the next round,” Patrick said.
“Yeah, okay,” Chris said, stuffing the phone into his pocket and heading to the bar so he could pay up.
iv.
The flight felt ridiculously long. Longer than six hours. Longer than six years. It felt like an eternity, an endless string of unending time and space between Los Angeles and New York. Chris got lost inside his head, counting the seconds, trying to prove to himself that time was in fact proceeding onward. Patrick bumped their shoulders together and Chris looked over.
“We’re about to land. Might want to buckle up. How am I going to explain it to Zach if you end up a splatter against the roof of the plane?”
Chris’s stomach clenched. He struggled to get himself buckled in and succeeded just as the plane began to make its descent. They were outside the terminal, waiting for a taxi before Patrick spoke again.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said.
Chris looked over at his friend. “Who’s nervous?” Chris said, fidgeting with the buttons of his grey wool cardigan for the umpteenth time.
“Not you, clearly. Me though, I’m nervous,” Patrick said.
“What about?”
“Seeing Zach,” he said.
“Don’t mock me,” Chris said.
“I’m not,” Patrick insisted. “He’s just so aloof and smart.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “He’s really not. Aloof I mean. And I’m smarter than he is,” Chris said with a grin. “And you’re an asshole for making fun of me. You’ve hung out with Zach before, why would you be nervous?”
“You’re the one who fucks him and you’re nervous so I thought I should be too, you know, solidarity,” Patrick said.
“It’s just been awhile and-what if-people can change-or grow beyond other people,” Chris said.
“You’re cute when you’re insecure,” Patrick said.
“Fuck off,” Chris said, laughing.
“Do I have to grab your phone and read Zach’s sexting to you again? I will if I have to but I copped way more of a feel than I ever wanted to last time so I’d just as soon not do it again,” Patrick said.
“Fine, I’m an idiot who’s nervous about seeing his boyfriend. I’m a grown fucking man who feels like a giddy virginal school girl. Happy?”
“Delighted. That’s our taxi, get in,” Patrick said.
Chris yanked the door open and slid inside, Patrick scooting in next to him. Chris took his phone out, texted Zach that they were on their way.
“Don’t worry. Zach will be gentle when he deflowers you, I’m sure,” Patrick said.
“You’re such a support.”
Patrick held out his fist and bumped Chris’. “Bros before ho’s.”
Chris snorted and looked out the window as the car left the airport and made the turn for Manhattan.
v.
Chris rapped lightly on the door, looking down at his scuffed sneakers. He heard the groan of metal turning, heard a heavy click and stepped back. The door opened and Chris’ heart started to slam. Eyes the color of dark amber met Chris’ and every worry, every silly, irrational fear he’d felt since Zach left L.A. fled. “Hey,” Chris said.
Zach’s mouth curled in a gentle smile. He reached out, took hold of the strap on Chris’ shoulder and stepped back into the apartment, tossing the duffle bag aside. Chris followed and reached behind himself, blindly grabbing at the doorknob and pulling it shut. Zach was right in front of him then, hands on his waist, then sliding up his arms, then cupping his face, cradling his skull. Zach took a half step forward and their torsos touched, their hips made contact. Chris licked his lips and parted them and in the space of a breath Zach’s mouth was on his.
It felt like home. It was warm and soft and Chris sank into it, pressed his mouth harder against Zach’s. Zach pushed his tongue into Chris’ mouth and the taste of Zach overpowered him. The kiss was sweet and hot and maddeningly brief.
A gasp, a weak, needy little protest fell from Chris’ lips as Zach drew back. Zach took his hand and led Chris through the apartment and into a bedroom. The shades were down, the sun kept out of the room, creating darkness in the day. Chris started to fumble with the buttons of his sweater but Zach’s steady fingers brushed his away. Chris shrugged the cardigan off and then the rest of his clothes followed, along with Zach’s, discarded and forgotten on the carpeted floor.
Zach pushed Chris onto the bed, pressed him down into the thick mattress with his strong, lean body. Chris ran his hands over Zach’s skin, feeling the taut muscles just below the surface. Zach rolled his hips and Chris let out a puff of breath. Zach curled his shoulders and kissed Chris’ throat, fingers running teasingly down Chris’ sides. One hand laid flat against Chris’ thigh, caressing the skin, inching around and brushing the back.
Chris opened his legs wide for Zach, bent his knees, giving Zach space to settle between. Zach knelt between Chris’ thighs, bent himself low so that their lips could touch again. Zach dragged his lips downward, over Chris’ chin, sliding whisper soft against his throat. Throaty little moans issues from Chris’ mouth as Zach’s skidded down his body, over his chest, pausing at his belly, then moving south again over his thighs, then inward until Zach’s hot breath puffed against Chris’ cock.
Chris hissed, hips lifting involuntarily. Zach braced his hands against Chris, holding him down as he brought his lips to the overheated flesh of Chris’ length. Zach’s hot mouth sucked along Chris’ shaft, dropped gentle kisses here and there, tongue slithering around and around, flicking at the head, sending wild frissons up Chris’ spine.
Chris’ hands fisted in the sheets and he rasped Zach’s name as the other man reversed his course, his mouth following the same torturously delicious path back up Chris’ body. When their lips touched again Chris could taste a hint of his own flavor on Zach’s tongue. Chris reached for Zach, gripping his shoulders and dragging him in for a greedy, untamed kiss.
Zach moved, settling into position. Chris saw Zach’s arm stretch out, heard a drawer slide open. Chris’ train of thought was interrupted by the press of Zach’s finger to his entrance, by the feeling of being teased open. Desire coiled low in Chris’ stomach, twisting, fluttering inside him. He reached for Zach’s face, kissed him hard and shook his head slightly when their eyes met. Zach returned the kiss, hard and deep, then let it ebb until it was slow and tender. He brushed his lips along Chris’ cheek until his mouth was near Chris’ ear. “I love you,” Zach whispered, his finger slipping from Chris’ body, his body shifting, slotting into place, molding against Chris, giving Chris the ridiculously romantic idea that they were made to fit together this way.
Zach fingers twined with Chris’ fingers, pressed against the bed for leverage. The other hand rested against Chris’ hip, Zach’s palm felt warm, so warm it could have left an imprint in its wake. Chris let his head gall back, felt the soft touch of Zach’s mouth to his Adam’s apple followed by Zach’s cock filling him. Zach throbbed inside him, hard and so so deep. Zach snapped his hips and Chris cried out, molten heat burning through his veins, radiating from belly as the coil tightened.
Zach canted his hips, drove himself harder and deeper with every stroke. Chris spread his legs even wider, one dangling over the edge of the bed. He lifted up, aching for more, needing to take Zach deeper inside of himself. Zach slammed himself down, rattling their bodies, shaking the bed. The movements were uneven, a broken melody; clanging, crashing, riotous and darkly beautiful. Chris pulled Zach’s hand between them, guided the other man’s fingers around his cock. Their fingers remained tangled together as they worked together to stroke Chris’ length.
Zach set the pace, kept it slower than that of their bodies. Chris’ breath came in huffs, undercut by jagged moans. He tightened his fingers around Zach’s and Zach squeezed, jerking and tugging, matching the wild to and fro motion of their lovemaking.
Pleasure lit through Chris in a flood. Wave crashed against wave, drowning Chris. It was golden, honey sweet, and all consuming. Chris lay against the bed spent, Zach still pounding into him, rumbling through him like aftershocks. Chris closed his eyes as liquid heat surged through his frame and Zach slumped heavily against him.
Chris caught his breath, was taking in long, satisfying draughts of air that smelled of sex and Zach. Chris felt Zach’s mouth on his, felt an easy, familiar kiss begin to take shape. He opened his eyes and smiled.
“Hey,” Zach said.
Chris chuckled. “Hey.”
“Welcome to New York,” he said.
“Thanks,” Chris said.
“I should be angry at you,” Zach said.
Chris frowned, pushing Zach a little so that Zach got the hint and rolled off of him. Chris sat up and picked up Zach’s pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. He tapped one out and lit it up, taking a drag. “Angry with me?” he asked.
“For staying away for so long. I thought you were pissed at me,” Zach said.
“Why would I be pissed at you?” Chris asked, befuddled.
“For liking it here. For leaving you there,” Zach said.
Chris swallowed. “I’m not upset that you like it here. I get it, Zach, I do. I know you need to feel creative. I know that you felt stifled in L.A.,” he said.
“Yes, creatively, yes. I felt like I was running into nothing but dead ends,” Zach said. “It’s not like that here.”
“I know,” Chris said.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? It’s not enough I sent those cloyingly romantic texts, is it?”
Chris was smiling now. “No, it’s not.”
Zach inhaled and then breathed out. “You’re the only thing I miss from L.A.”
“What about your cat and your dog?” Chris said, an eyebrow quirking up.
“I can bring them here if I stay longer. I can bring everything here. Except you.”
“I’m here now,” Chris said.
“Not full time. It’s just a visit. A visit you had to be forced into, I might add,” Zach said.
“I didn’t want to impose,” Chris.
“Bullshit. You had it in your head it was unmanly to miss me.”
“Maybe,” Chris said.
“You’re a fucking idiot sometimes,” Zach said, shaking his head.
Chris shifted on the bed, getting closer. “Yeah, I know. You could’ve invited me.”
Zach let out a little exasperated laughter. “I did. Right before I left I said ‘come see me, okay?’ Remember that?”
“Yeah, but, you know, I thought that was just something you said because it’s something you say when you go somewhere and leave your boyfriend behind.”
“I can’t even begin to untangle that sentence,” Zach said, rubbing his forehead. “But you should know by now I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
“Fine, you win. I might have acted like a stubborn ass in this one instance,” Chris muttered.
Zach wrapped a hand behind Chris’ neck. “I love winning,” he said with a smirk and kissed Chris.
“Losing doesn’t feel so bad, actually,” Chris said.
“Good, get used to it. By the way, where’s Patrick?” Zach asked.
“Hotel.”
“You abandoned him at a hotel? Isn’t that a little rude?” Zach said.
“Well, I thought it might be awkward if I brought him here and he had to listen to us fuck as he played with his iPad in the living room.”
“That’s not a euphemism, right?” Zach said.
Chris snorted. “No.”
“Call him. Tell him to meet us downstairs, we’ll head over to the park, take in the New York sun.”
“You have sun out here?”
“We have everything,” Zach said. Then he met Chris’ eyes and touched his cheek. “Well, now we do.”
“You’re such a sap,” Chris said, trying for nonchalance but hearing just the tiniest crack to his voice.
“That’s me, Zach the sap,” Zach said. “Next time I’ll text you some Shakespeare so that there’s no doubt. Maybe a little ‘love is not love which alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: o no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken’.”
Chris laughed and bent over the side of the bed to get his phone out of his jeans. “Patrick chose the exact same sonnet when he was mocking me about your texts,” Chris said, typing out a message to Patrick to meet him downstairs ASAP.
“Did he? I think this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Zach smiled.
Chris shook his head. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Zach said, kissing Chris’ lips. “You want to hop in the shower and clean up?”
“Why? Patrick knows we fucked. Besides, doesn’t everyone in New York smell?”
Zach shook his head. “You say that to the wrong person you’re going to get stabbed.”
“You’ll protect me,” Chris said.
“I’m not taking a knife for you,” Zach said.
“I thought you loved me,” Chris said, his hand going to his heart as if he’d been wounded.
“More than sonnets and overwrought texts and New York City combined,” Zach said, his voice somber and low, his breath blowing over Chris’ lips as he got very close.
“An ever-fixed mark,” Chris said.
Zach nodded. “Exactly.”
They kissed again and Chris ran his fingers over Zach’s wet, swollen lips. “I love you, too. Let’s go see this East coast sun of yours.”
Zach was smiling as they got out of bed and back into their clothes. Chris slipped his cardigan back on, ran his fingers through his hair. “Am I presentable?”
“You’ll do,” Zach said, opening the door and letting Chris out first.
They got downstairs and waited for Patrick’s cab to pull up. Chris put his sunglasses on and looked at the robin’s egg blue sky. “Not bad.” Zach squeezed his shoulder and risked a soft brush of his lips to Chris’ cheek. Chris turned his attention to Zach, caught a glimpse of Zach’s soft brown eyes before he hid them behind his own sunglasses. “New York does have its charms,” he murmured, mostly to himself, letting the tips of his fingers brush against Zach’s before they stepped to a reasonable distance to wait for their friend’s arrival.
.fin