The Vacation 5

The Clouds Burst (Into Pluvial Porn)

When Zach woke, he was lying on his back, his hands folded over his stomach. This “vampire” position, as Chris called it, was a left-over from Trek when he’d had to nap like that or risk the wrath of makeup for messing up his hair or ears. Nowadays it was a sign that he had a lot on his mind.

Just like Chris, who seemed to mistake Zach for a teddy bear, considering the way he was clinging to Zach right now … as if he’d disappear the moment Chris let go of him. Suddenly Chris jerked awake and clutched at Zach even more tightly. Zach could feel how Chris’s heart pounded in a panic.

“Bad dream?” he asked unnecessarily. Chris mumbled something incomprehensible against his arm but didn’t move. Zach turned onto his side and pulled Chris against his body.

He wasn’t surprised at how Chris tended to express his feelings physically, awake or asleep. Chris might be careful with strangers, hesitating into hugs like a cautious kitten sometimes. In the personal space of friends, Chris had always behaved more like a puppy, exuberant and silly to the point that Zach wanted to put a leash on him. Words always turned into gestures with Chris, and ever since they had become lovers, his gestures overflowed into touches. But based on what Zach knew about Chris’s behavior toward his girlfriends over the years, he’d expected Chris to be different in intimate interactions. More demanding, less giving. Less ready to show the intensity of his needs, his vulnerability. And Chris yielding to him the way he did was incredibly arousing.

“Can you—” Chris started, then grimaced. “No. Forget it; morning breath. Sorry.”

Zach nudged Chris’s chin up. “I think I’ll survive.” He kissed Chris. The comfort of warm lips was more important than the stale breath of bad dreams. “Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.”

Zach brushed a few recalcitrant strands of hair away from Chris’s forehead, so he could see his eyes. “Fears and dreams aren’t stupid.”

“It’s embarrassing.” Chris buried his face against Zach’s shoulder.

“Tell me anyway.” Zach allowed Chris to hide, but he hooked a leg around Chris’s thigh and slid his left arm around his back, cuddling him even closer.

“IdreamedthatParamounttoldmeIamnotgayenoughandIhavetobewithAlicebecausethescriptsaysso.”

“What was that?”

“I … I dreamed we’d planned – there’d be a press thing. With Paramount. Because of Trek, I guess. And …” Chris took a deep breath that only increased the tension in his body. “When I wanted to go out there and get it over with, they … they wouldn’t let me. They told me you were gone and that I …” Chris groaned into his shoulder and couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

Zach bit on his lips, hard. It wasn’t funny; not really. It was a fear founded not just in Chris’s psyche but in reality. “I promise Paramount has no script for our lives.”

Chris raised his head. “Are you sure?”

“Well.” Zach pursed his lips. “They might have one. Wouldn’t put it past them. But we never signed that contract. We’ll be fine.” Chris snorted but relaxed a little. Zach used the opportunity to press another comforting kiss on his lips, morning breath be damned. “Also, contrary to any rumors you might have heard, there’s no entrance exam for membership in the queer community.” He nuzzled Chris’s neck and sucked at his earlobe. “Furthermore, I happen to be a certified member in good standing, and I am willing and able to aver, avow, and affirm that you’ve aced the practicals.”

They ended up eating breakfast in bed, fruit salad and pancakes. Chris was in a much better mood, though quieter than usual. Still preoccupied, Zach guessed. Perhaps not thinking about the dream, but about … things.

Eventually, Chris put “The Hobbit” onto the nightstand. He was halfway through the book by now. How he’d managed to sneak so much reading into the last few days was a complete mystery to Zach, because they hadn’t been inactive in any way of the meaning. Now Chris pushed his thick, black-rimmed glasses higher up on his nose as he gazed meditatively at the pointillist patterns the rain was painting on the French doors. “Guess that means we’ll have to stay holed up today.” The tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips while he pondered their options. “We could stay in bed all day,” he suggested. “Or … have a nudist day – just never get dressed. A spa day? We could try out the sauna, and the pool. And the Jacuzzi.”

Zach could see exactly how another idea took shape in Chris’s mind. It started as a spark in his eyes and turned into a bright grin, which in turn crinkled his eyes with mischief even as he raised his hands, fingers aflutter. “And whoever had more orgasms at the end of the day buys dinner tomorrow.”

Before Zach could come up with a plausible way to refuse (though really, why would he?), he was already signing an absolutely ridiculous contract (with half a dozen absolutely unnecessary additional clauses that could easily double as a kink list) in Chris’s Hobbit notebook. By the time the sauna had heated up to 176°F, Chris was an orgasm ahead.

They turned the sandglass, and Chris bravely stretched out on the topmost bench. He sighed with contentment. Zach, relegated to the middle bench, needed a minute longer to get comfortable. Then he sighed as well. The sauna sported a tinted round window so they could still admire the pool … or listen to the rain. The sound of the rain combined with the humid heat created a blissfully relaxing atmosphere. Within moments Zach was dozing and ready for a nap.

“So, sauna,” Chris started. “It’s a cultural thing, right?”

“I swear, if you start quoting lines from ‘So NoTORIous’ at me now, you will regret it.” Zach inhaled, carefully breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth.

 

“Wasn’t going to,” Chris muttered. “But it is, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Zach replied. “Let me tell you about the long and fascinating history of sauna, about the Mayan temazcal, about Roman baths, and most of all about the Finnish sauna culture. They even have one in their parliament building, by the way. And what they get up to with those birch boughs, man, you’d love that.”

“I might, at that,” Chris said, quite seriously, startling Zach upright.

Gripping the sides of the bench tightly, Zach frowned at Chris. But his lover barely opened his eyes, basking in the heat. Zach sighed. “You’re right, though. Sauna is gay culture.”

“So what’s that like?” Chris asked, rubbing the sweat on his tummy in a soothing circle with his palm.

“Just because I happen to be gay I’m not an expert on all aspects of gay culture, Chris.” Zach should lie back down again and play it cool (or as cool as was possible in the current ambient temperature). But suddenly he didn’t want to stop looking at Chris. So he turned around, twisted himself into the lotus position, and sat facing Chris. “But yeah, sauna’s nice.” He propped his elbows on the bench next to Chris’s side and pondered possible explanations. At last he ended up simplifying things somewhat because he really wasn’t in the mood to discuss the finer points of body posture as an invitation to engage in specific sexual activities. “Think of it as a club,” he said. “With fewer clothes, and more condoms.”

“That does sound nice.”

Zach interrupted more infuriating tummy rubbing with a kiss on Chris’s belly button, twirling his tongue around it, tasting sweat and feverish heat. Nice. Very nice indeed.

“Actually, gay sauna culture is supposedly in decline,” Zach said. “Though I wouldn’t know; I haven’t been in ages. Downside of fame et cetera et cetera. Cry me a river. But Germany is really interesting that way – in terms of sauna culture, I mean. Did you know that in their regular saunas they do the naked co-ed thing over there?”

That made Chris open his eyes. “Really?”

Zach nodded. “No wimpy towels and bathing trunks over there.” He couldn’t resist Chris’s slick body. Stroking his torso, Zach began to draw lines and circles into the clean sweat beading on Chris’s skin in myriad infinitesimal droplets. “We could go when you come to visit me in May.”

Now Chris sat up, too. “You think it’s a good idea for us to show our junk to random strangers who might or might not have a phone camera handy?”

Zach rolled his eyes. “Where are they gonna get a phone from in a sauna? Pull it out of their asses?”

“But you still need to shower and—” Chris shook his head “—they might.”

Granted, they might. Chris was paranoid for good reason. Also, the timing for a mishap like that would be less than ideal to put it mildly. But still … Berlin. The city of Love Parades still had so much more to offer than merely vibrant mainstream culture. “Europe’s most infamous gay sauna club happens to be located in Berlin,” he said, as casually as he could. And although that really shouldn’t be possible at 176°F, his cock stirred. “It has a darkroom labyrinth attached to it.” Chris’s eyes widened, obviously imagining the details. Zach shivered in spite of the heat. “We need something to look forward to,” he whispered. “Something good and crazy.”

“That does sound … tempting.” Chris licked his lips. But then he inhaled, a hasty, shaky breath and promptly coughed due to the heat of the air. “Crazy, though? I can guarantee that we’ll get that no matter what. And I have no idea how we’re going to do it. I mean, you handled it with so much aplomb. Two precise phrases – WHAM! BANG! – just dropped ever so badass casually into the conversation. Only, that won’t work for me. For us.” He glanced at the sandglass. “Time’s up.”

“No,” Zach said, even as he extended his hands and drew Chris to his feet. “You take as much time as you need.”

Outside, in the cool air of the bathroom, they leaned against the wall of the sauna next to each other. “Thanks for saying that,” Chris panted. “But let’s face it. We have to let people know before I come to Berlin. I have to tell my family. Who have no idea, by the way. We have to talk to publicists and yeah, I guess, to Paramount, too. And for you, it was a deliberate statement when the time was right. When you did it, how you did it, you set an example. You inspired people. I’m doing it because playing tag with the paparazzi won’t work. I’m just doing it because sooner or later people will figure out that we’re fucking. Because subtlety isn’t my strong suit. And because—”

Abruptly, Chris turned away and stepped under the ledge of the artificial waterfall, turning the knob with a vicious twist. Zach followed him, and couldn’t keep himself from dancing from one foot to the other while his cock turtled in the icy deluge. Zach gasped for breath, as his brain went from “What the hell am I supposed to say?” to “Oh my god, cold! This is cold. Cold, cold, cold. Much too damn COLD!” in the fraction of a second.

Zach caught up with Chris outside on the terrace. It was still raining, but after the subzero shower the rain felt almost warm on his skin. He stopped Chris at the edge of the pool. “Wait a second, will you?” Zach stared at Chris, tense, naked and wet, eyes stormy, mouth set and unsmiling. “You’re wrong if you believe that your story, our story, doesn’t matter. It’s important to show that it’s okay to fall in love no matter when or with whom.” When Chris relaxed a little, Zach promptly pulled him into his arms. “Also, you don’t fool me for second. I know you’re doing this for me, too. Because we could drag out that terrible bromance angle for a while yet, even with you draped all over me in public.”

Chris leaned against him with a heartfelt sigh. “You said … in Out, I think? I’m not sure; it was a while ago. But I do remember what you said – that no good can come from staying quiet. I’d be an asshole to take that away from you.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Zach said. But given the cue, he couldn’t resist. He cupped Chris’s ass in appreciation, fingers sliding between his cheeks, teasing. “In fact,” he went on, serious again, “you’re quite terrifyingly brave.” He moved his hands upward again to hug Chris around the small of his back. “We’ve spent seven years inching toward each other, toward this. And now you’re rushing through issues that some people need a lifetime of therapy to sort out in a matter of weeks.” He pulled back so he could see Chris’s face. He needed Chris to really listen now. “Nevertheless, I do believe it will be better for us, for our relationship, if we do this sooner rather than later.” Considering that he’d never actually gone public with Miles that was a huge step for Zach, and he could see in Chris’s serious expression that he was aware of that, too. “It’s definitely better to get it out of the way long before the next Trek. Though I guarantee that Paramount will disagree – once they’ve realized what we’re handing them on a silver platter in terms of PR. But Chris? We’ve talked about this before, and I really mean it. It’s okay if you’re scared. And if you need to freak out. And really, it’s not as if I’m not nervous, too. So just … talk to me, all right?”

“Okay.” Chris nodded. “I can do that.” He took a deep breath and a step back. Zach let him go. “Pool now?”

When they climbed in, they gasped at the cool water on their still sauna-hot skin. But soon they were striking out vigorously, cooling down and staying warm at the same time, and making the most of the pool. The fairly large basin was rectangular and styled like a natural lake, with sections with aquatic plants partitioned off to act as natural water filters. Swimming, the regular rhythm of moving and breathing helped Zach to regain his equilibrium, and to think things through. What to do next. What not to do. What he didn’t want Chris to do alone, what he didn’t want him to be alone with. How Berlin might happen.

Half an hour later they drifted together in one of the secluded niches between segments planted with reeds and water lilies. Zach swam up behind Chris and wrapped himself around his body. Swimming must have helped him, too; he felt much more relaxed.

“I’ve been thinking,” Zach announced. “And I want us to send some emails and make some phone calls next week already. While we’re here, together.” He let go of Chris’s back so he could move around him and in front of him. “So we’re ready. Or as ready as we’ll ever be.” He smiled wryly. “And when some reporter or pap catches us together in Berlin, our people will have something prepared. Getting caught holding hands may not be as elegant as a casual statement in the New York magazine, but it’s normal. Normal for us, at least. And that’s what you, what we both deserve.”

“Okay.” Chris took a deep breath but stayed calm. “We could …” Another deep breath. “We could start with inviting Karl for dinner. He sent me an email that he’ll be in Christchurch for a few days next week for that charity he’s involved in.” He quirked his lips in a faint, lop-sided smile. “He’ll give me so much shit about this …”

“And he’ll have our backs every step of the way,” Zach said. Family was important to Karl; and he’d made it clear that he considered the Trek cast family of sorts. Maybe not on a “Lord of the Rings” level, but definitely more than colleagues and acquaintances.

“Kick our asses, you mean.” Now Chris laughed, a little at least. He put his hands on Zach’s shoulders and let his body float upwards in the water. “Sometimes I still have trouble believing you didn’t kick me out on my ass that very first night.”

Zach thought that this version of Chris might be his favorite yet: wet and vulnerable, spiky hair slicked back, raindrops glittering on his face in a sudden ray of sunshine, his eyes wide and earnest, grey-blue mirrors of the storm clouds up in the sky.

“You wanted me so much,” Zach said and covered Chris’s hands with his. “Needed me so much.” Slowly, Zach stroked Chris’s arms, lingering in appreciation on his pronounced biceps and triceps. Then he gripped Chris’s shoulders and pulled him close, close enough to slide his hands up and down his sides and his back. “You were intense. Irresistible.”

Zach fell silent. But it was still raining, and the silence was filled with soft, reassuring sounds. As if the weather itself wanted to put them at ease. Underwater, he slipped his right hand between Chris’s ass cheeks and nudged his hole. Just enough to get his attention. Chris tilted back his head, and Zach pushed first one, then two fingers in, added pressure. Chris’s eyes drifted shut as he submitted to Zach’s touch, and his lips opened in a desirous ohh… Around them, the rain created a calligraphy of concentric circles on the surface of the water. Beads of water weighed down Chris’s eyelashes. When a droplet trailed down Chris’s cheek, Zach felt compelled to lick it away. As if it was a tear and not merely a drop of rain. Buoyed by the water, his lover swayed against him and sighed.

“Pluvial porn,” Chris murmured and opened his eyes again, sapphire-bright. “Perfection in precipitation.” He grinned at Zach, all mischief now. “Provided you presently pound into me and elicit a climax from me right here in the pool.”

“No more alliterations for you, Christopher,” Zach decided. “Definitely not in public.” He pushed Chris backwards until they reached the edge of the pool. Instead of resisting, Chris wrapped his legs around Zach’s thighs, trapping their cocks between their bodies.

“But we are not in public now, Zachary,” Chris replied. “And methinks the man maligns my methods too much. Because I perceive precisely how much you appreciate the persuasiveness of my stylistic devices.” With a smirk, he leaned against Zach’s right shoulder and reached around Zach’s back and for his ass.

Chris’s finger was warm, warmer than the water, and insistent. Although Zach was tighter than Chris at this point, it didn’t take long until Chris had worked his finger far enough inside. A quirk, and a sizzling rush of sensation surged through Zach’s body. Without the water to support them, this episode of pluvial porn would have found a very painful end then and there, as Zach stumbled and almost fell. Chris just laughed, holding on for dear life and not letting up.

“Damn it, Chris, do you want to drown us?” Zach cursed. Somehow he managed to maneuver them into a corner for additional support. Drowning in the pool of a Hobbit hole while fucking might get them shortlisted for the Darwin Awards 2014, but that was most certainly not on his top ten list of how to go.

Somehow Chris managed to squeeze his other hand between their bodies. He gripped their dicks, pressing them together, rubbing them, hot and hard in the cool water. Zach instinctively tightened his own hold on Chris again, his hand sliding between Chris’s buttocks once more. When Chris rested his forehead against Zach’s shoulder and began to suck and bite kisses into his skin, Zach gasped. “What are you? A fucking octopus?”

For a moment, Chris looked up and smiled beatifically, his eyes electrified and almost turquoise with lust. “Your fucking octopus.”

Zach’s ability to form coherent syllables dissolved in the waves Chris created between their bodies as he jerked their cocks with more urgency. Chris panted against his neck, such a passionate sound. Once more it struck Zach just how much Chris wanted him. But before he could process the thought, the familiar pressure of impending orgasm tightened his balls. A moment later, Chris stroked his prostate, with an unrefined but evilly effective twitch of his fingers. Zach exploded in a release that left him floating, weightless in the water. Distantly, Zach felt Chris shudder against him as he reached his climax as well. For a while they just drifted in each other’s arms, limp and – yeah, in love. Once again, Zach’s heart thudded awkwardly at the thought. He opened his eyes, blinking away raindrops.

“See? I wouldn’t let you drown,” Chris said, kissed him, and shivered convulsively.

That was Zach’s cue to move the party to the Jacuzzi. After all, he had a bet to win, and Chris was still an orgasm ahead.

♦

“We’re going to turn into prunes,” Chris announced happily.

His ability to think and speak had needed some serious time-out in terms of silently soaking in the hot tub for the better part of an hour. But now he was obviously recovering from their exertions in the pool. Maybe the stimulating effect of the bath salts was finally kicking in. They’d had a choice of a whole range of special Middle-earth themed mixtures. Chris had wanted “Éomer’s Excellent Soak”, presumably to honor his man-crush on Karl, but Zach had vetoed that. And he’d enjoyed that moment of playful jealousy probably more than he ought to – especially when Chris had solemnly sworn to crush only on him from here on out, a vow that had included Chris kneeling down in front of him and actually kissing his balls for some reason. Now they were marinating in “Green Dragon”, a rich, tavern-themed scent. The whirlpool was more than big enough for two, so they could have comfortably stretched out in opposite corners of the tub. But apparently Chris was still channeling his inner octopus. Zach had ended up with a lapful of snuggly Chris. He didn’t mind.

“Very clean prunes,” Zach agreed. By rights he should be beyond temptation by now, but the thought of just how clean they’d both be when they finally made it out of the hot, bubbling water was way too appealing. His cock stirred.

Chris turned and tilted his head to offer him a sly smile. “Clean prunes? Is that something you’re into, Zach? A kink, maybe?”

Zach swatted gently at him. “Crazy boy. But if you must know, yes, I am not averse to the pleasures of anilingus.”

“Is that so?” Chris shimmied in his arms, teasing, taunting. “Because in that case I’ll have to let you in on a secret …” He lowered his voice seductively. “… neither am I.”

“Oh, the things I learn about you here.” Zach smiled against Chris’s neck. “I already had my suspicions that your proclivities include sexual gratification with stylistic devices. But I have to say, for a mostly straight boy you’re very anally inclined …”

“Oh, the arrogance.” Chris splashed some water back at Zach and mostly at the wall. “The ass is an erogenous zone for many people, regardless of their gender identity or sexual orientation.”

When Zach submerged his hand to slide a finger up and down his crack, Chris squirmed against his hand. Onomatopoeias of pleasure spilled from his lips, guh and unf and a helpless hmmm…

“It’s definitely one of your sweet spots,” Zach murmured. He pulled his hand away from Chris’s ass and curled his arm around his waist, stroking his stomach. Chris was hard again, too. That’s some spa day today, Zach thought. Aloud he said, “And yet – although you have indeed satisfactorily demonstrated your ability to locate not only your own but my prostate without Google maps – you haven’t done much about it in the past. Why is that, I wonder?”

“Dunno.” Chris leaned back against him and pressed Zach’s hand more firmly against his body. Zach had noticed that already about him, how Chris liked being held, tightly, how he even enjoyed being pinned down. When Chris inhaled, Zach could feel how he tensed up. “Okay, no. I do know why. For me, there’s a level of openness, of trust, involved in those acts … that I’ve simply not experienced very often. With anyone.”

For a second, Zach wanted to react the way he had their very first night together. He wanted to tell Chris off, wanted to snap at Chris that he didn’t have the right to say things like that, never mind the fact that Chris had every right to say that by now, and more. Just Zach’s typical knee-jerk reaction. That part of him that still wanted nothing to do with the responsibility and the risks that came with such trust. (And besides, those acts – they were as natural and normal as any other sexual acts. There should be no more and no less trust involved than in any other form of sexual intimacy.)

But Chris. Zach was perfectly aware of at least one time that Chris had this trust broken before. (Never mind which sexts had been nothing but erotic fantasy and which had been edits by the hackers – it had been a hot mess, and of course it hadn’t left Chris unaffected.) Also, Zach would have to be an idiot and an asshole to ignore how, in terms of trust, there was much more at stake for Chris than how he felt about anal sex right now. And Zach was neither. Or at least he liked to think that.

Though … Maybe he was at least ignorant. Sure, for him as a gay man who enjoyed anal sex, all of this was normal and no big deal. But Chris was not gay. He was bisexual. And he’d lived a mostly straight life so far. Gay sex, anal sex, all of that was still new for Chris. No matter how much he enjoyed it all. Also, if Zach was perfectly honest, maybe he himself had more reasons for topping normally than the fact that he simply preferred that particular physical experience.

And Zach’s instinctive aversion to too much emotional dependency had definitely more to do with his personal history, with his experience of loss and dysfunctional relationships than anything else. Chris had been such a safe object of desire. One hundred percent unavailable. Someone he couldn’t lose because he could never have him in the first place. But now Chris was proving himself to be more open and emotionally available in a fucking week than most of Zach’s previous partners in the entire course of their relationship.

Zach had been silent for much too long now.

“We’re both clean,” Chris said suddenly, with forced brightness. “In every respect.” He shifted against Zach’s cock and hissed sharply at the intimate contact. “So how do you feel about a round ‘au naturel’?”

“Fuck, Chris,” Zach groaned. “You can’t say things like that.” His cock, the traitor, ignored him and surged upward eagerly as Chris squirmed in his lap.

“Oh, but I can. And I want to.” Chris reached for Zach’s dick. With a few torturous twists of his wrist he teased Zach to full hardness. Then he positioned himself before Zach managed to round up enough brain cells for a protest. Then Chris pushed down, sinking down on Zach, slick and hot and tight, and when Chris clenched around his cock, Zach couldn’t remember how to spell “coherent” much less come up with anything the resembled such a reply.

♦

Later, after a long, tenderly entangled nap, they lay naked on the bed, Chris on his stomach, Zach on his side next to him. Zach was leisurely stroking Chris’s ass. He wasn’t sure if he was up to another orgasm, or even just to getting up and staggering to the kitchen for dinner. Also, he hadn’t forgotten their conversation in the whirlpool. But he had no idea how to get back on topic.

“How about it,” he said softly, pressing his lips against Chris’s tailbone, “you come a fifth time and I buy dinner tomorrow?”

Chris groaned. “Next time I come up with a megalomaniac notion like that bet today, kindly remind me that I’m not twenty anymore. Or just kill me right away.”

“Never.” Zach snuggled closer to Chris, memorizing hard muscles and warm skin with his hands and his whole body. “I like you just the way you are. All good and crazy and thirty-three.”

He kept caressing Chris, trailing gentle fingertips across and around his hole, teasing the tender skin. Chris fidgeted under his ministrations and couldn’t contain sounds of helpless delight. Zach didn’t mind the messiness of sex, even reveled in it. But this was nice, too. Chris’s body positively glowed, pink and soft and so clean. And to have Chris spread out like that under him, so open to him … Zach rolled onto his knees and pressed his lips against the pucker of Chris’s asshole. His cock stirred with an almost painful effort. But the gargled groan Chris tried to muffle in the pillow was too sweet to resist.

“Like that, do you?” Zach inhaled Chris’s scent, warm with the whiskey and tobacco aroma of the bath salts that still clung to his skin. He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead he nuzzled the soft skin behind Chris’s balls and started licking upwards, in quick, strong licks, like a cat that meant business. He slowed down when reached Chris’s entrance, circling the rim with slow, firm pressure. Chris shuddered and cried out, a helpless, incomprehensible noise, and easily one of the sexiest sounds Zach had heard in his life.

“You’re killing me,” Chris moaned. “I can’t – I really can’t – OH GOD—”

“Oh, I think you can, Christopher. I think you will. And you will start with lying still.” Zach rested his right forearm across the small of Chris’s back, just above his ass, to emphasize his order. “Very still. Do not move.”

“Unf.”

To discover a lover’s body with his mouth – licking, sucking, kissing, and yes, biting – what could be more delicious, more erotic? Not much, Zach thought as he lowered his head again. He actually bit into Chris’s left buttock this time, and he bit down hard, hard enough that Chris cried out. Smiling, Zach soothed the bite with gentle flicks of his tongue. Then he spread Chris’s cheeks and licked down deeper.

He teased Chris with tender circles before he pressed inside. Soft, slick, tight, hot – the holy litany of clichés, and they were all true. Sensitive skin pulsed under the touch of his tongue, and the intimate vulnerability of the act took his breath away. The sensations were almost too intense; Zach felt hollow, ready to float away. He didn’t know anymore if he was holding Chris down or if he was clinging to Chris so he wouldn’t drift away. He concentrated on the rhythm until he grew aware of an echo – soft huffs in sync with his thrusts. Tenderly, Zach trailed his fingers down Chris’s taint to his balls. He cupped Chris with his left hand, very gently, just to feel how close Chris was. Very close.

Somewhat to his surprise Zach realized that he was getting there again, too. But after spending the better part of the day having sex, he was hypersensitive. Pain and pleasure were almost indistinguishable. Yet he didn’t mind. Inspired, he slipped his middle finger inside, underneath his tongue, so he could reach Chris’s prostate. At the same time he sucked hard and squeezed Chris’s balls with just enough pressure. He would have laughed at Chris’s scream and how Chris writhed under his mouth, but Zach couldn’t stand the tension anymore. He collapsed on his back and gripped his own cock, jerking once, twice, and then he came again, the fourth time that day, an awkward, almost grueling orgasm.

Afterwards, every movement was an ordeal. But somehow, they managed to curl up into each other’s arms, and Zach, after a full day’s fucking, didn’t think of sex but of love. For the second time in a week, Zach wanted … well, not now – he couldn’t move now, definitely not, or the next eight to ten hours – at the very least – but at some point in the not too distant future, he wanted to offer Chris the same kind of trust – the same kind of lust, too – that he’d given Zach so freely since their first crazy night together.

“Chris?” Zach whispered.

“Hmm?” Chris didn’t even open his eyes.

“One of these days,” Zach said slowly, hyperaware of his heartbeat, a strange and heavy rhythm that was palpable in his whole body, “when we can move again, and when the idea of another orgasm is actually appealing again … I do want you to fuck me.”

Chris jerked his eyes open and stared at him. In the fading light, his eyes were almost surreal in their blue brightness. “You trust me that much?”

“Yes.” Zach wanted to add something, wanted to apologize for his silence in the Jacuzzi. But he didn’t have enough brain left for explanations or further declarations of love. While he was still fumbling to find the words he wanted, he fell asleep.

♦

Two days later, Zach watched with bemusement how Chris turned into iron – no, into frantic chef. It was one of those things he’d never noticed about Chris before, in spite of being friends for seven years and spending so much time practically living together, on set and during junkets. One of those small things about Chris that struck him quite out of the blue this week, that made his heart beat faster and his stomach tighten. Chris. How could there be so much he didn’t know about Chris, so many details he’d never appreciated before? Like how fucking adorable he was in an apron, cooking up a storm for Karl. Also, either Chris’s dietician had successfully brainwashed him at long last, or he was more of a foodie than Zach had realized so far.

“Chris, if there are two salads to go with those steaks, I think we can risk baked potatoes. Karl won’t mind a few carbs.” And what the hell was Chris doing with a bowl full of flowers over there? Zach abandoned the cucumbers he’d been dicing and went to investigate.

Chris frowned and nervously licked his lips. Rubbing his neck, he nodded. “You’re right, of course. There should be baked potatoes.” He turned around and pulled a pot out of the cabinet. Then he hesitated. “I like them kind of soft, so I cook them before I bake them. Do you think that’s okay for Karl? And—” Chris froze and swallowed hard. “Damn. I don’t even know how you like your potatoes.”

Zach took the pot out of Chris’s hands and put it on the counter. “I’m fine with mushy potatoes. And with firm potatoes. And with no potatoes.” He wrapped his arms around Chris, apron and all. “What do you think will happen, Chris? It’s just Karl.”

Chris shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t even know, man. It’s …”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.” He kissed Chris, firmly on the lips. “There’s no correct way to do this.”

“At least there’s a correct way to cook steaks.” Chris sighed. “Or at least the perfect way according to Gordon Ramsay.”

Zach was not about to argue steaks with Chris; he’d done so before and lost. Well, he didn’t have to be right all the time, and Chris really did make fantastic steaks. So he poked at the flowers floating in a large bowl of water mixed with vinegar instead. “What are those for? Some kind of hippie decoration thing?”

“Nope. Salad. Just want to get the bugs out of the blossoms for now.”

“What?!”

“Tropaeolum, commonly known as nasturtium. The crimson stuff out front. Looks nice, tastes even nicer. Spicy. Salad.” Chris went back to staring at three giant potatoes as if the solution to all of his problems was hidden under their barely freckled skin. The potatoes were so fresh that they were smooth like satin and clean as if the farmer at the market had polished them by hand. They didn’t seem particularly concerned by Chris’s worries.

“It’s gonna be okay, Chris.”

*

The resounding knock was followed by an irritated holler. “Seriously, Pine, you really went and rented a Hobbit hole? You’re crazy!”

Next to Zach, Chris froze. And Zach felt it, too – that moment of no return. For a fraction of a second he thought of offering to hide in the bedroom until Karl left. Or punching Karl unconscious before he could recognize him? Or pretending he’d just dropped by, unannounced. But Chris, with his list of phone calls and emails (parents, sister; a few friends; agent, publicist) for the next day painstakingly written down in his new notebook— Zach swallowed hard and thought of his own list. Focused. On his breathing, on his center. On Chris.

Chris opened the door. “Hey, man.” He took a step backwards and rubbed his neck. Inhaled a shaky breath before he added: “And I guess you’re right. I must be crazy. At least that’s exactly what Zach keeps saying.”

For a split-second Zach was torn between sympathy and amusement. Oh Chris. And poor Karl, inadvertently cast in the role of absent parental figures. (Better Karl than Paramount, though, Zach thought.) And then, for a fraction of a heartbeat, Zach felt a flash of fear, too. Because this – Chris – could never be just another one of his half-assed attempts at a relationship. He took Chris’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Because it’s true. You are crazy.”

Karl dumped his duffel bag and frowned. Apart from that, he showed no particular reaction. There was no step back, no double-take, no expression of shock or even surprise. He just stood there and studied the two of them, took in their linked hands, and frowned his trademark frown, annoyed and amused in equal parts. A moment later, he shook his head.

“Sorry, Chris,” Karl said with fake contrition. “I take that back. And Zach, you’re wrong. You’re both crazy. Goddamn fucking crazy. Also, I should have trusted my gut instinct. Why did I agree to call off the betting pool after the last junket? I could be a very rich man right now. Damn you both and your atrocious timing, you morons. I hope there’s steak and beer, at least.”

“Of course,” Chris said as he led the way to the kitchen and the terrace. “Beer, blood orange martini, or apple pie sangria. Wine. White or red. And water, of course.”

“Pine, I’m not a girl. Give me a damn beer.”

Chris picked a martini, of course, and Zach (because a) there was nothing wrong with girly drinks, and b) he happened to like apple pie in any form) opted for the sangria. When Karl stepped out onto the terrace to admire the pool, Zach hung back and used the opportunity to pull Chris into a tight hug. Every muscle in Chris’s back was in solid knots with tension. But when Zach kissed him, Chris was already smiling.

“Is that what relief tastes like?” Zach whispered. “Like blood orange martini and your smile?”

Chris shrugged, but his eyes were cerulean bright.

Then it was time for a guided tour of the Hobbit hole. Some details caused exasperation. (“A sauna? Of course. It’s not enough for Pine to play Hobbit. No, Quinto here needs to live out a Lord of the Rings/So NoTORIous crossover. Why am I not surprised?”) Others – the kitchen, the fireplaces, and the Rohan guestroom where Karl would stay for the night – were deemed acceptable. (“Oh man, that brings back memories. Good times, good times. You do realize that now I have to bore you with completely inappropriate stories about the ‘Lord of the Rings’ cast all night, don’t you?”)

Since the weather had turned nice again, they ate dinner on the terrace. Over Chris’s grilled marinated Portobello mushrooms, conversation turned to work. Chris was in two minds about “Z for Zachariah” – he’d had fun filming but to play a part that didn’t exist in the novel didn’t sit well with him. Zach was more excited about Berlin than about the movie he was doing there. And while Karl had enjoyed working on “Almost Human”, he wasn’t overly optimistic about the show’s endurance. (“If they start with airing a show in the wrong order, that already tells you something. Oh well; I’ll enjoy it as long as it lasts.”) The perfectly seared steak with soft, butter drenched baked potatoes garnered Karl’s approval, but the salads elicited vicious amusement. (“Flowers? Pine, you want me to eat flowers? Oh, Princess, why did anyone ever doubt your romantic destiny?”)

When it grew chilly out on the terrace after dinner, they went back inside. Chris lit a fire in the living room and got another three bottles of beer from the fridge. Karl was sprawling in an armchair, while Zach had usurped a corner of one of the comfortable sofas. After Chris had handed Karl his beer, he hesitated. Before Zach had a chance to say something, Karl rolled his eyes and shooed Chris with an impatient gesture over to the couch. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you in Zach’s lap before. If you start making out, I’ll go to bed. And if you subject me to any horrible noises tonight, I swear you will live to regret it. But I promise I can handle the two of you on one and the same sofa.”

How Chris blushed, all over his face and even down his neck, would never fail to amuse Zach. But when Chris slumped down at his side, so obviously drained, he remembered that for Chris tonight meant much more than dinner with an old friend.

“C’mere,” Zach murmured. “Curl up.”

That Chris obeyed without a word or a wisecrack, simply toeing off his shoes and pulling up his legs until he sat leaning against Zach, was telling, too. From his armchair, Karl was watching them with quiet amusement. “So, that.” Karl gestured at them with his bottle. “The two of you. Top secret, or can I say that I know what Zachary Quinto did during his summer vacation when the next reporter nags me?”

Now it was Zach’s turn to flush. “Shit, sorry about that. I honestly didn’t think they’d get back to you about that.”

“No big deal,” Karl said with a shrug and took a swallow of beer. “I don’t mind covering up for you guys. But a warning would have been nice.”

Chris rubbed his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, too, although he’d had nothing to do with Zach’s little white lie about his vacation. “It’s kinda new, and …”

“… it’s going to be a circus when it gets out.” Zach put his arm around Chris. “We needed some time to figure things out before telling anyone.”

“And we kind of considered trying to keep it private,” Chris said and sighed. “But apparently I’m a terrible actor, and so …” He waved his hand.

Karl snorted. “You’re not, and you know that. Kindly quit fishing for compliments, Pine. But I agree. I have seen teenaged girls who are less obvious concerning the object of their affections. Nothing wrong with that, mind you. But I can see how that’s awkward when paps and fans are out to get you. So how are you going to handle that?”

Zach drained his beer and put the empty bottle on the coffee table. “Well, obviously we’re in the process of telling friends and family,” he said and nodded at Karl. “As well as publicists and agents. And we want to get it out of the way before Trek starts.” Noticing how Chris tensed again, Zach rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “Chris is going to come to Berlin at some point. So our best guess is that it will happen then.”

“Paramount will be pissed.” Then Karl grinned, dark eyes sparkling with wicked mirth. “Or worse, they’ll decide to make the most of it and put it in the script. And Trek fandom – the fans will worship you. The romance!” he exclaimed with a sweeping gesture, clutching at his heart. “Decades of slashy dreams coming true at long last.”

Chris and Zach groaned in unison. “There is no escape,” Chris muttered darkly. “Trekkies, trekkies everywhere. Tomorrow my mother will tell me that she ships us, too.”

Zach pressed a quick kiss against Chris’s temple. “I’m sure she will,” he said softly. He kept his arm around Chris’s back, rubbing his shoulder with his left hand. Then he turned back to Karl. “Concerning fans,” Zach said. “We kind of owe them for this. Because that’s how it all started. With a fan. At the Ryan premiere, in London. Chris stole a notebook from a fan.”

“By mistake,” Chris protested. “I didn’t steal it on purpose!”

“How can you steal something by mistake?” Karl asked, an exact echo of Zach’s first question about the notebook.

“Well.” Chris smiled. He reached up and squeezed Zach’s hand before he launched into telling their story for the first time. “It happened like this …”

princess salad.

(Unnecessary disclaimer: the Instagram is fake, nothing but fantasy, and just an illustration for this story.)

Author’s Notes:

Many thanks to rabidchild67 for the idea of blood orange martinis.

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