The Vacation 6

There And Back Again (With The Bravest Princess Of Them All)

Suddenly Zach’s vacation was almost over. The next day was his last day in New Zealand, and because they both knew that there was no living with Zach the evening before a trip – his mind would be on packing and planes, already flying ahead to his destination – they were having their farewell party for two tonight.

For that purpose they had pushed the banquet table in the dining room back against the windows. On the table they had laid out a Hobbit feast of comfort food – Chris had cooked a mellow black lentils dal for Zach, and they had stocked up on savory and sweet pies, salads, and artisanal cheeses at the farmers’ market again. Apart from that, they had splurged on the wine and bought a few bottles of 2009 Mills Reef “Elspeth” Cabernet Merlot. And last but not least, Chris had somehow acquired the ingredients for a couple of joints on the set of Z4Z.

Next they had dragged over the mattress from the nearest guest bedroom. They had changed into PJs and built a blanket fort in the middle of the dining room with no less than four duvets and all the pillows and cushions they could find. Then they lit the candle parade on the sideboard. And finally, after Zach had solemnly promised to protect Chris from all monsters that might be lurking in the corners, they had switched on the chandelier to turn the room into a shadow forest.

Now Chris gazed earnestly at the haphazardly rolled cigarette in his hand and exhaled a breath of sweet smoke in a blissful sigh. “That stuff is so good, man, organic and all. It’s basically health food. Well, not food. But definitely healthy.”

“I’m afraid there are still antediluvian people out there, like politicians and policemen for example, who do not share your very enlightened attitude.” Zach plucked the spliff from Chris’s hand and inhaled. “Hmm.” Critically, he studied the joint. He hadn’t smoked in a while and wasn’t quite satisfied with the flare of the paper for purely aesthetic reasons. He exhaled and let the pungent scent of weed drift up to his nose. Dope and lentils and Chris. Comfort food for his soul. He returned the joint to Chris, thinking, I’ll miss you.

With that thought, a strange heaviness settled over him. For years he’d carefully policed his heart where Chris was concerned, never allowing himself to actively miss Chris. Because while they’d been friends, very good friends even, they’d never been that kind of friends. They’d been friends with mutual friends. Friends who’d run into each other at dinner parties of other friends. Colleagues who traveled in similar circles. Who would occasionally make plans as friends when they happened to be in the same city. That would change now. A bittersweet ache unfurled inside of him. Now Zach could – would – miss Chris. Would miss him as a friend, would miss him as a lover.

Chris collapsed back into the mountains of pillows heaped up around the mattress. Draping his legs across Zach’s lap, he held the joint high above his head and stretched the tension out of his body before taking a drag again. Zach leaned over and kissed the cloying smoke from Chris’s lips. He rested his left hand on Chris’s stomach and rubbed his palm in small, soothing circles before he stole back the cigarette for another toke. “How are you, Chris?”

The last few days blurred together in Zach’s mind. Family and friends, publicists and agents. Phone calls, video conferences, and emails. Days consumed by debates. Nights interrupted by arguments, thanks to the time difference. Still, all in all, Zach guessed things had gone … well. Sort of. Mostly. Could have gone worse, definitely. However, Zach had also very clearly underestimated the situation. But his experience had been so different, more like a gradual process of self-realization. Not a major personal and professional crisis that required statements and strategies and contingency plans. And that was just show business as usual. Zach knew that.

One thing was certain: Zach’s attitude toward emails was much more favorable now than it had been a week ago. E-mails, there was no awkward moment of silence in e-mails. No shocked “oh”. And e-mails didn’t say things like “But I thought he’s straight?” or “But you’re not gay.” Chris hadn’t been sleeping well. (Not that Zach blamed him.) And Zach couldn’t help worrying about him. He really didn’t want to leave Chris alone at the moment. But there was nothing to be done. Zach had to go back to Berlin and to “Agent 47”. And Chris … Well, the soft huff of pleasure that spilled from Chris’s lips now was reassuring, at least.

“What’s with you and my tummy?” Slightly cross-eyed with relaxation, Chris squinted up at Zach. “You keep touching it.”

Zach shrugged, a quick jerk of shoulders and eyebrows, somewhat abashed at being caught red-handed like that. “I just … like it. It’s cute.”

(Especially that ludicrous belly button. Deep-set, slightly skewed and a little slanted. Quirky, just like its owner. An almost-outie, Zach thought. How apropos.)

“Cute?! That’s … My tummy – my stomach is not cute. My stomach is a six-pack of utterly ribbed abdominal awesomeness!” Chris tried to muster an appropriate measure of exasperation and failed, giggling instead and arching into Zach’s touch.

“Oh, yes. Very cute,” Zach insisted, adding another careful circle to his caresses. “And are you developing a hernia there, or what?”

“Nrgh.” Chris squirmed under his fingertips. “Stop insulting my stomach. But if you must know, yes. Or that’s the official diagnosis, at least. It’s from all the heavy lifting in that one scene of Zachariah. Supposedly it will go away again on its own. If not, surgery’s

no big deal for stuff like that. Breaking my finger for Ryan was way worse.”

“Poor baby,” Zach murmured and pressed soft, soothing kisses on Chris’s belly, before he captured Chris’s hand. “This one?”

“How do you know that?!” Chris complained. “I can’t see a difference!” When Zach proceeded not just to kiss the finger but to suck on it, Chris laughed and put the spliff in Zach’s hand. “Oral fixation much? Here, suck on this instead.”

Zach obeyed, somewhat reluctantly. It was good stuff. But frankly, Chris tasted better. He didn’t mind letting Chris reclaim the joint. Chris dragged on the cigarette. When the inhalation filled his cheeks, he offered his mouth to Zach again.

To see Chris like that, to feel Chris like that, curled around him and cuddly, still made Zach’s heart beat faster and his stomach flutter. Again he pressed their lips together and sucked in a sweetly scented second-hand hit. Drawing back, Zach traced Chris’s lush lips with a tender touch. I don’t want to leave you here on your own, Zach thought, I don’t want you to be alone. Not right now. Maybe he could recruit Karl to keep an eye on Chris for the rest of his vacation – Chris wasn’t due to return to L.A. for a while yet. “So, how are you?” He knew Chris far too well to let himself be distracted with just a little flirting.

Apparently Chris realized that, too. He pushed himself upright again and handed Zach the joint. Scooting around, he sat down in front of Zach, who folded himself obligingly into a cross-legged position as well. The cigarette was passed back and forth a few more times, before Chris stubbed it out in the ashtray. Then he rested his hands palm upwards on Zach’s legs and didn’t resist when Zach entwined their fingers. For while they sat like that in silence, drifting in a comforting haze of relaxation.

“I’m okay, I guess,” Chris answered Zach’s question at last. “It was not such a big deal, after all.”

“Your mother was cool.” Zach smiled. Most of all, Chris’s mother had been less than surprised.

♦

They’d done a Skype call with Chris’s family, because Zach had insisted that some things shouldn’t be done via email, and if you couldn’t actually beam over, a Skype call was the next best thing. Once they were face to face with Chris’s parents, Chris had blushed fire-engine red and started stuttering while holding Zach’s hand. After the most excruciatingly embarrassing seconds of Zach’s entire life, Chris’s mother had thankfully shushed her son. “Chris, it’s all right. I know.”

Which was, interestingly enough, the reaction Zach had fully expected from his own mother twelve years ago. Only she hadn’t reacted like that.

“What?” Chris croaked.

“Don’t you remember Paul and Lauren?” Chris’s mother asked.

When Chris just stared at her blankly, she laughed. “Well, I guess that’s the kind of conversation a mother never forgets …” Gwynne smiled at both of them. “You were eleven, I think. After long and painful negotiations you told me that you were ready to send your first serious Valentine to Lauren – Zach, I don’t know what Valentine’s Day was like in your family, but for my children that holiday was always an ordeal. International peace treaties have been signed with less drama. So I was very relieved that Chris had managed to work things out with Lauren. However, the very next day my sweet son cornered me in the kitchen and asked me if it was okay for him to send Paul a Valentine’s card, too.”

Zach couldn’t keep a straight face. Raising his eyebrows, he turned to Chris. “Paul?”

If he’d thought that Chris’s face couldn’t possibly get any redder, he’d been mistaken. Chris hid his face in his hands. “My best friend. I … I kind of possibly had a crush on him.”

“Based on your question and the way you blushed I surmised as much even then,” Gwynne agreed. Shaking her head in a bemused fashion, she went on, “I’m afraid that was not my best moment as a mother and a therapist. It went something like this: I told Chris that if he feels for Paul what he feels for Lauren, then of course sending Paul a Valentine’s card is okay. But I also warned him that Paul may not feel the same, and that Lauren might not want to share. And I told him that some people are okay with sharing, and some are not. The idea of sharing intrigued Chris so much that he forgot all about Paul and Lauren. I then spent an incredibly awkward afternoon explaining the concept of polyamorous relationships in age-appropriate ways.”

Chris groaned into his palms. “I’m grateful I have forgotten all about that. But that still doesn’t explain why you …” He finally dropped his hands and made a vague gesture that might have indicated Zach.

“Well, dear,” Gwynne said, “you never brought that topic up again, although I always expected you to. But even so, I didn’t miss how you talked about some men over the years.” She smiled at them both. “I tried to respect your reticence, Chris, but mothers can’t help noticing some things. Can’t help worrying. And of course there’s the fact that Chris has mentioned you, Zach, far more frequently than any of the women he dated in recent years. Since the first movie it’s been always ‘but Zach said’ or “but Zach did’ and so on.”

For some reason that had made Zach’s cheeks flush with heat. But with that, the awkward part of the video call had been over, and the conversation had turned to practical matters. Chris’s parents had both agreed that it was strategically smarter to acknowledge their relationship from the start. His father had been more concerned than his mother, which was not unexpected. But he’d been no less supportive.

“You’re both mature adults – well, most of the time …” Robert Pine had winked at them. But when he continued, he was absolutely serious again. “And you’ve both been successful in the business for years now. You know exactly how difficult this will be, so I’m not going to start making any lists for you. If you want this relationship, you’ll deal with whatever obstacles arise.”

♦

Now Chris blinked like a sleepy owl, obviously coming back to the present with an effort. “Yeah,” he agreed. “My mom is cool.” He shook his head and frowned, awkwardly wrinkling his forehead. “I swear I had totally forgotten that thing with Lauren and Paul. I can’t even remember whom I ended up giving a card. Paul, I think. Or maybe both of them? I don’t know. As I said … once I knew that it – that I was okay no matter what, I didn’t give it much thought until much later.”

They had Skyped Katie, too. As well as Zach’s mother and Joe. Katie had been more worried about Chris than his parents – she was more aware of how Chris suffered with the regular attenion of paparazzi and online gossip. To make up for her less than enthusiastic initial reaction, she’d sent them an email with a long list of absolutely bizarre coming out suggestions the very next day, though (including a love-in on the Ku’Damm in Berlin – “You might as well milk it for all it is worth, guys.”). Joe’s response had been somewhat unexpected mostly because it had been more or less identical repetition of Karl’s “Why the fuck did I agree to end the betting pool last year?” However, they did find out that a thank-you gift for Zoe was in order for that, so Zach was fine with how that went down. Out of all family members, Zach’s mother had turned out to be the most skeptical. Not because she didn’t approve of Chris, though, or because she didn’t support Zach. She knew Chris and liked him. The problem was that she was worried about Chris. Worried enough to call Zach privately the following day just to tell him to watch out for “his boy”. And that? That was new and unexpected behavior, and Zach didn’t quite know what to make of it.

“I’m grateful we did it together, though,” Chris admitted after a long moment of staring at their intertwined fingers. “Especially the business part.”

So was Zach. They’d opted for emails first and conference calls via Skype as a follow-up. Zach’s people had been professional and helpful – used to dealing with the publicity side of his relationships as a gay man. Chris’s handlers had been significantly less supportive. Zach hadn’t liked some of the body language going on – on either side of the screen. More than ever he was grateful that he’d been able to make his decision on his own, in his own time. Without prophecies of gloom and doom and barely concealed expressions of fucking disbelief. Zach had fully expected Chris to fly off the handle and explode into some faces. But he hadn’t. He’d smiled, a painful effort of a smile, and he’d explained, and he’d smiled some more.

There were moments when all of that scared Zach. What Chris had done for him this week. For them. Because this was not a media circus beyond their control. They didn’t have their backs against the wall right now. The situation couldn’t be conveniently interpreted as “us against them (and the rest of the world)”. Chris – no, they – had very deliberately chosen to have the difficult conversations of the past few days. With people they’d both been working with for years. With people they trusted. With close friends and family members. At least those awkward moments had been due to honest surprise and not to prejudice, as far as Zach could tell. (And seriously, if someone had presented their relationship to Zach on New Year’s Eve as a possible scenario for his not so distant future, awkward wouldn’t have begun to describe his reaction.)

Still, the past few days had left both of them feeling kind of raw, and Chris definitely troubled. Presenting a unified front had helped, though. And the strategy was clear now. Family and close friends knew what was up. Publicists and agents et cetera had been informed. A plan had been devised. Statements would be drafted that Zach and Chris would approve. Then whatever happened in Berlin would happen in Berlin. And that would be that.

“It’s gonna be okay, Chris,” Zach said and squeezed Chris’s hands. Never mind that he wasn’t in the position to make any such promises. Never mind that the practical problems of their relationship waiting for them in May, in Berlin, did seem significantly more challenging than just a few days ago. But before Zach could add anything more useful or insightful, his stomach rumbled noisily, the effect of the joint kicking in with a vengeance.

Chris laughed and got up to fill two bowls with black lentils dal, while Zach dealt with the wine. A few minutes later, they sat in the middle of their blanket fort with a tray between them, eating lentils and drinking wine and smiling foolishly at one another.

“This,” Zach said after a few spoonfuls, closing his eyes to revel in the taste of the dal, “is really good.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, damn it.” But Zach could hear Chris’s smile, so he didn’t bother opening his eyes and concentrated on the rich aroma of the spices and the soothing texture of the lentils.

“You need really good spices,” Chris explained. “And fresh ghee. You can mix butter and oil, but real ghee is much better. The wine is perfect with it, by the way.”

At the pointed reminder (Zach had insisted on buying this particular vintage) Zach picked up his glass from the tray. Chris was right. The wine was full of Zen, a balance that rivalled the mellow flavors of the dal. “Okay, fine, let’s play Bottle Shock,” Zach said. He inhaled the bouquet, then swirled a swallow around in his mouth. “Black fruit,” he started importantly. “Berries.”

Chris just snorted. “Like every other Cabernet or Merlot you’ve ever had. But do go on.”

Zach gestured expansively but took his time to savor another swallow. “Licorice and leather,” he ventured at last. Tannins were a safe bet. Licorice not so much, since he wasn’t a fan of the sweet as such, but there was that metallic pang at the back of his mouth. Worth a shot, anyway.

“Yes!” Chris beamed at him. “But you’re missing what makes it perfect. I’d say try again, but you’re never going to figure it out. It’s sandalwood. That pungent woodsy note that fits perfectly with the Indian spices and the oily richness of the ghee. It’s sandalwood. Angels weep for a dinner combo like this.” He nodded sagely.

“Chris, you’re crazy,” Zach murmured. He took the nearly empty wine glass from Chris’s hand and drained it. Then he put the glass on the tray along with the plates and his own empty glass. Carefully, he rose to his feet and climbed across the duvet walls and pillow turrets of their blanket fort to put the tray safely on the dining table in front of the windows.

When Zach turned around, his breath caught in his throat. The scene in front of him reminded him of a fairy tale. Red riding hood lost in the forest, perhaps? But a very adult, alternative version of the story. Perhaps even a dirty, depraved take on it.

Sprawled on his back, Chris lay in a nest of blankets and cushions. The scary chandelier painted roots and branches across his body in sinuous lines. Chris was barefoot, of course, and his cuffed pajama pants exposed his delicate ankles. The tight pajama top left almost nothing to imagination; especially since Chris had nearly unbuttoned it. Zach caught a glimpse of Chris’s infuriating belly button and could almost make out the outline of a pert nipple through the thin fabric.

“Christopher.”

With a slow, languid movement, Chris pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at Zach, dopey and placid. Zach swallowed hard and quickly discarded his own pajama top. The pants he kept on for the time being. A little fabric could go a long way to facilitate some restraint.

“I think you need to undress now.”

Obediently, Chris sat up, rose to his knees, stood. Without a word, he slowly unbuttoned the rest of his top and dropped it at his feet.

“I’m afraid there’s no sexy way to get out of PJ pants,” Chris said in a low voice. “Just focus on my right hand.”

He raised his fingers to the hollow at the base of his throat. Then he stroked down his body, lingering for just a moment over his belly button before moving his hand underneath his pants, palming his already semi-hard cock and drawing the fabric away from his body. With his left hand, he reached for small of his back and pushed down the waistband, over the delicious curves of his buttocks, down his muscular thighs and slender calves.

When Zach had almost forgotten how to breathe, the pants pooled at Chris’s feet. He took a step backward and toed them aside. Standing naked and aroused in front of Zach, Chris spread his arms and bowed. On his lightly tanned skin the shadows cast by the chandelier came alive, writhing with every breath he took. Chris shivered. Not scared of the Shadow anymore, Zach thought. Thrilled. And fucking beautiful.

“Welcome to Mirkwood,” Chris whispered.

He slid his hand down to cradle his balls, cupping them gently to display their fullness to Zach. When Zach gulped, Chris curled his hand around his dick and jacked himself in slow motion. Zach watched, breathless, how Chris filled out and flushed with arousal in front of his eyes. Holding Zach’s gaze, Chris changed his grip around his cock. He pressed his fingertips on the prominent vein on the underside just beneath the head, hooking his thumb around the other side. His expression turned into a wicked smirk as he delicately stuck out his little finger and proceeded to tease himself with infuriating, infinitesimal strokes.

“That’s quite enough,” Zach managed. And it was. Pure torture. Unadulterated agony. Not to be tolerated a moment longer. To hell with restraint. He yanked down his PJ bottoms. For one crazy second he contemplated tackling Chris to the ground on the spot (blanket forts must be good for something). But reason, or at least his desire for a more erotic approach prevailed in the end – barely.

Zach climbed across the mounds of duvets and pillows to stand in front of Chris. The taste of liquid sandalwood lingered on his tongue, and every breath still carried a sweet, pungent scent. Intoxication halted the inexorable march of days, now mere hours, minutes, toward the end of their vacation. Golden light and warm darkness wrapped them into a chiaroscuro cocoon as Zach traced the wavering patterns of candlelight and forest-shaped shadows across Chris’s skin.

“You look like your haiku,” Zach said. “All aglow.”

“Then touch me,” Chris asked. “And fuck me. Hot and slow.”

“I was,” Zach said slowly, “going to ask you to fuck me. Turnabout is fair play, after all. But now …” He put his arms around Chris and pulled him into his embrace, until their bodies were close enough to rub their cocks together. “Now I just want …” He kissed Chris’s mouth, his jaw, down his throat, the juncture of neck and shoulder, biting, sucking, soothing, and kissing again. “Now I just want you.”

Chris pressed himself against Zach’s stomach, striving for more friction. He lifted his hands to Zach’s shoulders, trailed his fingers down to his nipples and flicked them, hard enough for Zach to simultaneously draw back with his upper body and push against Chris with his cock. Breathing hard, they held each other close, on the verge between foreplay and sex.

“That’s okay with me,” Chris said earnestly. “I mean, if you really want me to, I’ll do it, of course. But I … I like this. You fucking me. Bottoming.” The emphasis – as if it was a word in a foreign language – reminded Zach once again of how new all of this still was for Chris. Sometimes that was hard to remember. But they had only spent two weeks together here. Not a very long vacation at all. “Because, the fucking, I’ve done that,” Chris went on. When Zach arched his eyebrows, Chris stuck out his tongue at him. “That way, I mean. Not often, but a few times. Some women like that, too, you know. And it’s good, sure. But to,” Chris swallowed hard, “to feel you like that … It’s different.” Better, his eyes seemed to say, pupils blown so wide that only a rim of color remained, a mere spark of cerulean blue. Chris licked his lips. “I can be soft with you.”

And that – Zach had no idea how to react to that. He felt dizzy, light-headed. With lust, and yeah, with love. Seven years of friendship, and now, after seven weeks – this. This. All of this: Vacations and wordplay. Cooking and kissing. Notebooks. Blood orange martini. Porn in the pool. Lewd haiku. And Chris …

Chris took his hands and let himself sink down into their blanket fort, drawing Zach down with him, until Zach was lying on top of him. Then he reached out and poked around under the closest pillow with his right hand. A moment later he grinned and happily clutched a half-empty bottle of lube. “Look what I found.” Pushing against Zach’s chest, he murmured. “Rise and shine, babe.”

Zach got to his knees. Promptly, Chris sat up, too. He poured a generous amount of lube on his hands and proceeded to slick up Zach’s cock, smiling at each soft, squishy sound. When he was satisfied with his work, he grabbed a pillow to shove under his ass and lay back, spreading his legs. Without a word, Zach sank into Chris. Time slowed down and dissolved, the way it sometimes did when he’d smoked. He rocked into the tightness of Chris’s body, hot and slow indeed, and imagined he could stay like this forever, caught up in the rhythm of thrusting and kissing, with Chris sighing against him and pulsing around him. As if they had never known other bodies, had never belonged to other lovers. As if they had always been at home in each other.

Orgasm washed over them almost unforeseen, in an incredibly gentle release. Afterwards they did not move for a long while. Normally Zach was the type to push in slowly and pull out quickly, careful with his partner’s and his own post-climactic sensitivity. But as Chris clung to him tonight in the aftermath, Zach did not mind to let himself soften inside his lover’s body for once. But he still couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bring himself to speak. Could only think “I’ll miss you”. Could only hope that it wouldn’t be too much. Could only kiss Chris again, without words, in silence.

♦

A few hours later, Zach sat propped up against solid stacks of pillows and cushions while Chris leaned back against him and submitted good-naturedly to more tummy rubbing. They were passing another cigarette of tobacco mixed with marijuana back and forth between them, and they had opened a second bottle of the sandalwood-flavored Cabernet.

Zach inhaled deeply. Hollowing his cheeks, he opened his mouth in a wide Oh… and puffed out his breath in soft, sustained huffs. Chris tilted back his head against Zach’s shoulder and watched with cross-eyed fascination how silvery smoke rings drifted toward the ceiling and melted away into the shadow forest of the chandelier.

Chris frowned at Zach in owlish indignation. (By now he had exchanged his contacts for his thick, black-rimmed glasses – smoking pot tended to irritate his eyes – and looked even more adorable than normally.) “Really, Zach? Smoke rings? How much more Gandalf can you get?!”

Zach waggled his eyebrows. “No idea. But I do aspire to find out.”

“Well, you already rock those wizard brows. That’s got to be the first step, surely.” Chris grinned. “And I’m sure Leonard will teach you the Bilbo Baggins song, too, if you ask nicely.” Growing serious, he added, “But what we’re doing, it kind of feels like an epic quest of sorts. At least we’ve got plenty of adventures lined up, for sure. Climbing the Paramount if not the Lonely Mountain. Maybe we won’t have to fight orcs, but there’ll be paparazzi and reporters and gossip galore. And who knows? There might be dragons …” He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and took a deep breath. “I’ll just have to Bilbo it up, I guess.”

“Chris, you’re crazy.” Following a crazy impulse of his own, Zach started rocking Chris in his arms, singing softly. “Bilbo, Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins. The bravest little Hobbit of them all.” And as a second verse he added: “Princess, Princess! Princess Whitelaw. The bravest little Princess of them all.”

A pillow fight and an orgasm later, Zach had pinned Chris under his body again and was kissing him hard. With the taste of Chris’s lips, sweet with weed, rich with wine, everything that had happened during the past seven weeks flooded Zach’s mind: sudden sex in New York, this crazy Hobbit hole vacation, their unexpected relationship. That moment on the precipice, when Zach had stumbled out of his ordinary life into the adventure of being in love with Chris without a handkerchief or a map. All of that came back to Zach. In a bright blue gaze and frantic heartbeats and an echo of Chris’s voice in his mind: I miss you too much.

Suddenly Zach realized that it wouldn’t be too much – that it couldn’t be too much. No matter what adventures or misfortunes or upheavals awaited them. Not with Chris at his side. And then, without any effort or hesitation at all, Zach could finally say it:

“I’ll miss you. So much.”

there and back again

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

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