downey_shears

the end

Sun, 28 Sep 2008 11:59:43 GMT

thanks to those who've been following this saga. Sadly, it ends here. Assume, however, that Robert and Jake are happy in their own way.

The collar comes off. (appearance by Ana and Patrick the PA)

Fri, 29 Aug 2008 01:13:42 GMT

That Patrick is in his home after hours tells more about Robert's life than anything else. That he needs a PA who comes to his home after hours. It's baffling. And his assistant isn't even doing anything. He's reading a magazine. The fuck.

Just as Robert's about to make a snide comment, he sees a familiar face. Make that a familiar face attached a familiar body, falling off a bed. In a magazine. Excuse me?! "The fuck are you reading?"

Patrick, to his credit, only jumps about a foot, not more. "Uh--"

Robert snatches the magazine from his numb fingers, looking at the cover. "Butt. There is a magazine named Butt."

"It's--"

"I don't care what it is. Why are you here?"

"You asked me to be here," Patrick stammers, caught, red-faced, looking at his boss's boyfriend nearly naked. "You have something you need me to deliver to the studio?"

Fixing him with a steely gaze, Robert, still holding the magazine, picks up a fax and shoves it at him. "There. Go."

"My--"

"It's my magazine now. My money to you bought it. Go away."

As he sits on the couch and begins to flip through his first-ever issue of Butt, he hears the door slam.

It's a struggle for Jake to get off the elevator at the right floor - the groceries in his arms are kind of obscuring his vision - but at least he knows he doesn't have to worry about getting the door to the apartment open. As soon as he gets there, he gives the door a weak little kick. Then a harder one. "I know you're in there!"

The door swings open and Robert cocks his head at Jake, raised hand dangling the magazine. "What's this?" he asks, ignoring the apparent struggle with groceries that his boy seems to be having.

"Uh, I'll tell you when I can see it," Jake explains, pushing past Robert to drop the groceries in the kitchen. He's getting a bit of a sinking feeling, though. Shit.

Sidling after him, Robert still holds the magazine pinched in his fingers. "I was on the cover of Rolling Stone. You're in something called Butt. You need a better agent."

Double shit. Putting on his most innocent face, Jake leans back against the counter. "Butt and I have a long history, sir. Jason Sellards had his picture taken for them a very long time ago. You remember the sailor photos, don't you? You can thank Butt for the sailor photos."

Huh. Robert likes the sailor shoot. A lot. "So, you did this out of .... loyalty?" He flips the page to the photos of Jake's damned fine ass.

"Loyalty," Jake agrees, daring to hope that Robert will accept that at face value and just enjoy the photos for what they are. Or something.

"You still deserve better," Robert mutters, looking back down at the magazine. "My assistant was finding it quite fascinating."

A squawk manages to make its way out of Jake's mouth before he can clamp his hands over it. Oh, so that's why Robert was so up-in-arms about it. And how he found out about it in the first place, since Jake had been relatively sure that Robert wouldn't be picking up Butt on his own. Still trying to look casual - more difficult after that squawk - he shrugs and moves to look over Robert's shoulder. "I don't know, I get on all the good magazines in England. I'm a big fag, nothing wrong with appearing in Butt as well."

"Noth--" Robert looks at him askance. "I'm not arguing about you being a b-- a big fag, as you say, but Jake." A sigh and he tries again, trying to sound even-handed and rational. "Butt?"

"They're a classy rag," Jake argues, smiling. "At least among the amateur-porn set."

"Not helping your cause." Tossing the magazine onto the counter, Robert crosses his arms over his chest. "So. What've you been up to today?"

"Ana and I went shopping - for her, not me, although she's still a little miffed at you for saying that you'll decide what I wear. She likes tormenting me with fashion. And then I went for groceries." Shimmying sideways, he looks up at Robert with wide eyes, hoping that the Butt thing is past, now.

"Why do I think Ana would have you wear glitter and feathers? As you appeared in Butt." Subject dropped but not forgotten. "And how is she?"

"There was no glitter in Butt. Or feathers. Only underwear. And she's in top form."

"I stand corrected." Reaching out, Robert gets a hold of Jake's wrist and tugs. "I think you should come over here."

Jake lets himself be pulled over easily, still looking up at Robert with the wide blue eyes that have gotten him out of a lot of shit in his life. Not that they usually work with Robert, but it's worth a try. "Of course, sir. I live to please."

"That's bullshit and you know it." But Robert catches his chin and looks at him up-close. "Kiss me, brat. As I think of a suitable punishment for appearing in a magazine called Butt."

Huffing, Jake presses his leg up between Robert's. "Punishment? Why the hell does that deserve punishment?"

"Because I deem it so," comes the somewhat cheeky reply. "Do you have problem with that, Jake?"

"Oh, you deem it, do you? You deem it." Jake just presses closer, smirking. "Don't you think it's unfair to deny the world my glorious ass?"

"No, I don't. At all, as a matter of fact. I think I should lock your ass up. Viewings by permission only. My permission." As Robert says this, he closes the distance, words pressed to Jake's mouth before a kiss follows. "Six weeks in advance notice."

"I can see the campaign now," Jake murmurs against the kiss, smiling. "Free Jake Shears' Ass! Viva la revolucion!"

"Hundreds of Butt subscribers picketing. It's a chance I'm going to have to take," Robert answers. "It's the way it is."

"Oh, come on, sir. See, this is why I didn't tell you about it, I knew you'd say no."

Drawing back, Robert cocks a brow. "I'm sorry. Did I just hear you say that you keep things from me?"

Shit. "A boy needs some secrets," Jake hedges coyly, curling his fingers in Robert's shirt. The chain around his neck feels uncomfortably cold, suddenly.

"Such as...?"

"I don't know," Jake half-snaps, pulling away. "I'm an exhibitionist, I got a call asking if I'd do a photo shoot, I agreed. Do I have to run everything past you now?"

Robert's hand snaps out, wraps around Jake's wrist and tugs, fingers digging into his skin. "Care to say that again in a way that doesn't come across as aggressive, Jake?" Robert asks, tone ice-cold.

Jerking his arm in a vain attempt to make Robert break his grip, Jake turns, his own voice flat with sudden anger. Tiger in a mousetrap. "No, sir, I don't."

Robert stares for a long moment, jaw working. Then, just as quietly, he lets go of Jake's wrist, turns on his heel and walks away, out of the kitchen, into the living room and to the door, to the hallway, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket.

"Fuck," Jake tells the fridge. Then kicks it, hard, which hurts, but he's a fucking masochist so that's alright, that's how he fucking got into this whole mess in the first place. So he kicks it again, hard enough to put a tiny dent in the stainless steel, before turning and stalking towards the bedroom. He wants to leave, get some air, but Robert is right outside the fucking door.

All you have to do is ask for the collar to come off.

Hissing under his breath, Jake reaches back to undo the clasp, not thinking as he does it - because if he thinks, he might stop. And, okay, he's not asking, but shit, right now it's just making him fucking furious. He'll put it back on later, when it doesn't make him want to kick things. Setting it on the dresser, he grabs his jacket and pulls it on, then walks out the door and past Robert. Fuck him. Fuck him for thinking he can control Jake.

The only thing that moves as Robert watches him go by are his eyes. As Jake stands at the elevator, waiting for it to come, Robert watches him, but he doesn't say a word. Anything he'd say would be instigative. He smokes, before stubbing the cigarette out in the ash can and he goes back into the apartment, throwing all the locks. He's shaking and works to breathe deep to try to calm himself down.

Still trembling with - with anger, damn it - Jake fishes out his cell phone and speed-dials Ana, already looking for a taxi. You better be home, bitch.

Eying the display, Ana takes the call. "Didn't I just see you? I swear I just saw you."

Hopping into the cab, Jake gives the driver Ana's address. "I'll be there in ten. Robert found out about me doing the shoot for Butt. It didn't go well."

"It didn't--" Ana sighs, not sure why she's sighing, except that Jake sounds pissed and that's never good. "Door'll be open. Just tell me one thing before you hang up. Did you do anything rash?"

"No." A pause as he reflexively touches his throat. "Yes. Maybe. Shit, I don't know. Look, we'll talk about it when I get there."

"Fine, fine." Ana disconnects and goes to the kitchen. This calls for drastic measures. Good thing she still buys Jake's soy crap on habit.

By the time Jake gets to Ana's apartment building - his old apartment building, shit - he's a little bit less angry, a little bit more scared. Mostly still angry, though, thank God. No need to knock, he just waltzes in, immediately looking for his best friend. He needs a fucking hug.

"Jakey-cakes," Ana coos as she puts her arms around his neck. That's when she realizes and she pulls back to stare at him. "Uh, honey? You're missing something."

Fuck. "I know. I took it off."

"You--" Ana's eyes get impossibly big and round. "Oooo-kay. You fucked up. Right." Damage control it is. She leads him to the couch and dumps him there, handing him his soy stuff and a spoon. "Eat. Talk."

"I didn't fuck up," Jake mutters, stabbing his gelato with a spoon a few times before taking a bite. "He said I could take it off whenever I wanted." Not exactly, but close enough. "It was either than or hang myself with it, so I took it off."

"What happened, though? You're not telling me what happened." Ana sits, an arm draped over the back of the sofa, her leg pulled up to her chest. "Did he... what? What did he do?"

And just like that, all the anger is gone, replaced by a gnawing fear, huge and nameless. That he's fucked it all up. That he hasn't fucked it all up. "I don't know. He was angry with me for it. For having secrets. For not... fuck, for not letting him run my fucking life, is what it seemed like."

"Not letting him-- What?" Cocking her head, Ana blinks at him. "He wants to control your life? In what ways? I don't get it, Jakey."

"He was just making the photo shoot into a big fucking deal. Like I had to get his approval before I did it, or something." Leaning his head back, Jake exhales slowly. "I don't know. It's not just that, it's been building for the past little while, I guess. I think I'm just not cut out for this whole thing. Failed experiment in relationships." And he has to close his eyes very, very tightly at that. He refuses to cry.

"Bullshit," Ana says immediately, a hand coming out to cup his head, stroke the back of his neck, her forehead pressed to his. "That is complete bullshit and you know it. Robert makes you happy, you dumbnuts. And you're freaked out by it because you're happy. You're a drama queen and your life doesn't have enough drama so you make up your own."

"I don't want to be happy that he's controlling my life." Small things. Tiny things. Make him feel safe, make him furious. "Besides, it's a bad sign," he mutters. "Remember creepazoid Alex? Bad sign." And, okay, it's totally different, but shit.

"Who was a creepazoid and totally different from Robert? What exactly did he say, Jake? That made you feel like he was controlling you? You're not a reliable witness."

"I don't know. That he was going to punish me, and then he was kind of joking around, but not really, saying he was going to lock up my ass and charge admission. And then I snapped a tiny bit, and he was just - furious." Another bite of gelato lets him pause, feeling the cold in his chest fighting with the actual cold of the gelato. "But it's - little things. 'Make lemon rice tonight'. 'Don't be too late, I want you naked when I get home'. Little things."

"And he means those as orders?" Ana asks, petting over his hair. "And not requests? Asking, because I'm curious."

Jake groans and closes his eyes. "I have no fucking idea. Shit. I've fucked up, haven't I?"

Touching his neck, Ana has to nod. "It sounds like you both over-reacted, but you over-reacted bigger. Where's your collar?"

"At home on the dresser," Jake says, shivering a little at the touch. Damn it.

"Shit. He'll find it before you have a chance to explain. You need to call. Or... shit, Jake." Ana's face is stern. "You need to do something. Now."

"He already saw me after I took it off. I had to walk past him. He was smoking." Tucking his head down so that he doesn't have to look at Ana's face, Jake sighs.

"So, you're just going to sit here? Jake, Jesus Christ. Do I have to do everything for you?!" Ana reaches for her purse and pulls out her phone, and she waggles it at him. "Number? I don't have Robert Downey Jr's cell. Big surprise that."

Making an unbecoming little yelping noise, Jake bats at her phone. "Fine, I'll phone him! Fuck, you're a tyrant."

"I'm a tyrant who wants you to not fuck up a good thing because you're a spaz. A lovable spaz! But still--" She hands him the phone and takes their ice cream to the kitchen. Even she knows when a little alone time is needed.

For a long while Jake stares at the phone, getting up his courage. By the time he finally calls, he's still crossing his fingers that Robert doesn't answer.

Robert considers not answering. As a matter of fact, he stares at his phone that sits on the coffee table in front of him. In his hand is Jake's collar, that he's rolling around in his hand. Finally, on the third ring he snatches it up and says, slowly, "yes?"

Damn it. "Hi," he says quietly, stabbing the gelato a few more times.

Another pause as Robert feels a shaft of real pain run through him. "Hi," he says as neutrally as he can manage.

"I'm pretty sure I've fucked up, haven't I." Setting the gelato to one side, Jake closes his eyes.

Holding up the necklace, Robert watches it dully catch light. "It depends on how you define 'fucked up,' I suppose."

Jake draws his knees to his chest, confused. "Uh, I don't know how I'd define it, but I took off my collar and left, which is kind of fucked up no matter how you define it."

"I have to agree, Jake." Robert slouches lower in the sofa. "Are you planning on coming back?"

"Well, obviously, my stuff is there." He winces. Shit. Didn't mean for it to come out like that. "And you. You is more important."

"You're on a roll, gotta say." Robert shakes his head. "What the fuck happened, Jake? Because this? Is not good. Or fun. Or cool. Or...anything, really, except unpleasant."

"I don't know, I... I'm still settling into this whole in-a-relationship-and-in-a-collar thing, I guess. And I just freaked out like a crazy person today." God, too bad he isn't a girl, he could blame it on PMS and everything would be okay. "It was shit of me. I'm sorry."

"Where are you?"

"At Ana's. She yelled at me for you."

That makes Robert smile a little before he sobers again. "Do you want to come ho-- do you want come back here?"

Wincing again at the way Robert shies away from saying 'home', Jake sinks lower into the cushions. "Do you want me to?" That's the question, really.
Dangling the necklace, Robert takes his time in answering. "Yes," he says, because it's true. It's surprising what it cost to admit that. Jake might run, but Robert doesn't, not anymore, not really. "I do."

It takes a while for Jake to breathe again - all of his energy was focused on quelling the relief, his happiness at that. Why, though? What's the point? The question seems to hang in the air in front of him. What's the point in running from this? It makes him happy. It might not have five years ago, two years ago, one year ago. It does now. Exhaling slowly, he smiles. "Thank you. Then I'm coming home."

"Okay," comes Robert's reply, and he closes his eyes, ending the call. His hand curls around the necklace.

"So..." Ana asks from the doorway. "What's up?"

"I think I should get going," Jake mutters, still nervous. "Home."

"... okay? Is this a good thing?" She asks, leaning off the doorjamb and shuffling over. "Should I come with and run roughshod?"

"No, no... it's a good thing? It just means apologizing more and working shit out and stuff. I'm not very good at that."

"Oh, Jakey." She kisses his cheek. "Just mean it. Okay?"

"I know." Scrubbing his hand across his face, he hands over the gelato. "Thanks for dealing with my shit, baby. You're my fairy godmother."

"You're the fairy, I'm just the godmother." A peck to his lips, and Ana stands back. "Go get 'em, Tiger."

Deep breath and Jake nods, forcing himself out the door. Back towards home. It takes an infuriatingly short time to get there, traffic (for once) not behaving like a psychopath. Still, when he reaches the apartment, he knocks.

Each lock clicks as it's undone and Robert pulls open the door. Clad now in his glasses, a t-shirt and loose cotton pants, he looks tired, the lines around his eyes emphasized as he stands aside to let Jake in.

Jake waits until Robert locks the door again. Quiet, miserable, waiting. God, I hurt you. I didn't know I could. I forget. I'm sorry.

Turning around, Robert leans against the door, hands pressed to the surface. "Was it you who dented the fridge?"

"Well, my foot, technically. But yes." Damn, he'd forgotten about that.

"Are you and your foot not always joined?" It's pathetically small talk to avoid the elephant in the room.

Jake opens his mouth to make a quip of some kind, but it lodges there - all he can get out is "I'm sorry," and then he's throwing his arms around Robert's neck, clinging to him like a child.

Robert's eyes close and he's pulling his arms around Jake's waist and and breathing him in and wanting to be mad, but feeling too damned tired and too relieved.

"I'm a fucking moron," he says against Robert's shoulder, his eyes closed against what must be on Robert's face, what must be on his face.

"I disagree," Robert answers, softly. "But you act moronically. There is a difference."

Making an embarrassingly miserable little noise, Jake tilts his head back, looking up at Robert quietly. Kiss me? Please?

For a long moment, Robert just looks. The gigantic blue eyes, the reddened cheeks, one which he runs his thumb over. Jake's expression is clear, and Robert wants to. But it's never that easy. "I don't think I'll give you your collar back right away," he says.

It feels like a physical blow to his chest, making him sway a little in Robert's arms, but he just nods, accepts it.

"I can't give it to you if you're going to strip it off the minute you get angry." Robert tightens his hold instinctively. "It doesn't work like that for me."

"I know," Jake says quietly, numbly. Any arguments of but I've been angry before I didn't touch it die as soon as he thinks them, because that doesn't matter. He did today, is the thing. And he hates himself for it, but he looks at Robert again, eyes guarded. "You will give it back, though? Eventually?" And he tenses, can't help it. Please. Please don't make me realize I want this and then take it away, even if it is my fault.

"When we both decide it's time, yes," comes Robert's answer. "I'm sorry this hurts you, Jake, but this hurts me, too." Another bald admission.

Relaxing slightly, Jake nods. "I know. I... it's okay. It's what I deserve, it's okay."

With that, Robert nods. "Are you hungry? I can order in."

"No," Jake says firmly, taking a step back from Robert and managing a smile. "I was planning on making black-pepper stirfry. So that's what I'm going to make."

"You don't have to." It's cold when Jake pulls away and Robert finds himself reaching for, and taking, his hand.

"I know. I want to, though."

"Okay." Robert lets his hand go so he can go do that. When Jake goes to the kitchen, he finds himself at the piano, sliding onto the bench and opening the lid, before starting to play.

Getting ready to go out.

Sun, 10 Aug 2008 22:12:01 GMT

[current]

Reaching back, Jake fluffs his pillow and then sets his head down, watching Robert getting into his suit.

He knows it's unfair to be naked at this point, but really, it's a hot day and the hotel's air conditioning is kind of shit, so who's going to blame him? "I'll be watching you on TV. During the commercials, anyway. There's a Cheers marathon on and I'm not going to miss it just to stare at your face."

"You know just what to say to touch me and make me feel all warm, Jake," Robert laughs as he straightens his tie. "I still think you could come if you wanted to."

"I think you got that wrong - I know just what to touch to make you feel all warm, sir." Shifting on the bed, he arches his hips temptingly. "And there's no way. The hotel has a pool. The red carpet doesn't have a pool. I know my priorities."

Arching a brow at the show, Robert turns around, hands running down his lapels. "Your adoration of me has limits. I'm hurt."

"No you're not." Locating one of his socks on the bed beside him, Jake tosses it at Robert and cheers when it bounces off his ass. "Besides, you're going to want to fuck me when you get home to get rid of all that gotta-be-a-nice-guy tension, and it would be gross if I was all sweaty."

"Why would you be all sweaty? What exactly would you be doing at this party?" Robert asks, ignoring the assault. "It's not a strenuous event."

"Yes, but it is hot. Besides, so are you. Looking at you makes me sweaty." He finds the other sock and tosses that one too - it hits the back of Robert's head, and Jake grins. Ten points.

That gets a pointed finger and a glare. "Stop it. Or you won't get fucked."

Wiggling onto his stomach, Jake drops his chin down and looks up at Robert with wide, sad eyes. "You wouldn't do that to me. Or yourself. Especially yourself."

"I might," Robert replies. Though they probably both know he's most likely lying. "That doesn't mean you should be a brat."

"You knew I was a brat when you asked me to move in. You knew I was a brat when you collared me. Do you really expect me to change?"

"Yes. People can learn." Though Robert would be disappointed if Jake lost his spirit, he has to admit.

Sticking out his tongue, Jake wiggles forward until he can stretch out and nuzzle up against Robert through his trousers.

Running his hand through Jake's hair, Robert is slow to step back, though he smiles down at his lover. "Come to the party." It's as close as Robert gets to asking 'please.' "I want to see you across the room."

Jake closes his eyes and makes a soft noise, slipping off the bed so that he can press his cheek against Robert's thigh. "You know I want to be there."

"I guess I'll just have to text you vile messages," Robert says softly, eyes warm.

"Tell me all about the hideous things people are wearing, and how people who used to be awful to you are now sucking up to you because you're a big fucking movie star. It'll be great, it'll be like I'm there."

Robert chuckles. "It's a plan." Stepping back, he spreads his arms wide. "How do I look?"

Staying on his knees, Jake leans back until he's bent over backwards with his shoulders against the bed. It's oddly comfortable. "Like a big fucking movie star, sir. Also, if I may say so, you look so fucking hot I may have to go jump into the pool as soon as you leave."

Smirking, Robert nods. "Text me. I have to go." He walks around the bed and bends down to give Jake a kiss that lingers for a long moment before he stands upright. "Be good. I'll be back soon."

"You know how to text now, right? You're not going to make Patrick show up just to type down the dirty shit you want to do to me, right?"

"Why not? He's faster than I am." Robert grabs said blackberry. "And he has a crush on you anyway."

Squawking, Jake hits Robert's leg. "He does not. Be nice to your PA, he's suffered enough already."

"He loves his job." With that, Robert heads to the door. There, he looks over at Jake. "I'll see you soon."

Feeling terribly alone, there on the floor, Jake blows him a kiss. "I'll miss you." I wish I could be there. But the tabloids are merciless, and Jake has made a career of being gay. So no chance.

Robert attempts to cook, and Jake saves the day.

Fri, 16 May 2008 23:39:00 GMT

It's been a long day, and Jake is in a bad mood. Not only has he had to deal with suits all day, but when he gets home he'll have to play housewife and actually cook something. He could always order in, of course, this is New York, but... but that somehow feels like a failure. Yep, definitely playing housewife. After fiddling with the lock for a moment, he pushes open the door and drops the briefcase he'd lugged around today. Then, for good measure, he kicks it. "Robert?"

At first Robert doesn't answer. Robert is wearing an apron and has just burned his hand on the handle of a saucepan. Damn thing weighs too much for what it is. So he hisses and shakes out his hand, cursing the water boiling and the spaghetti that's still hanging out of the pan. And he curses the smaller pan that has vegetarian sauce bubbling in it (and all over the stove). And he curses again, because it's cathartic. "What?!" he finally calls, licking his burned fingers.

"Uh..." A little concerned, Jake stumbles forward, trying to get out of his shoes. Is Robert in pain? Dying? Does he need to call an ambulance? The morgue? "Robert?"

"What?" Robert asks again as he manages the turn the heat down under the sauce just as the smoke detector goes off, telling him he burned the breath. And out comes a litany of foul language that would make a sailor blush.

Jake stumbles into the doorway and stares at his lover, not sure what he's more surprised by - the pots, Robert's swearing, or Robert's wide-eyed disarray. "Uh..." He takes a slow step forward, as if Robert is a wild animal that might go into a panic. "Sir? What the hell?"

After the blackened log is thrown into the sink and the smoke detector fanned, Robert turns to Jake with his face flushed. "I was making dinner. Was being the operative term."

"...Oh." Jake considers that for a long moment. "...why?"

"Because," Robert huffs out. "I wanted to. For," he gestures vaguely. "You."

Jake blinks again, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Oh," he says again, quite cleverly.

Just then, the water bubbles up and over the pot in which the spaghetti is still only half-cooking. "Shit, motherfucker," Robert grouses as he turns the heat down, and stares at the spaghetti. "Shouldn't it be... " another hand wave. "Sinking?"

Padding over, still bemused, Jake looks into the pot. "No. I mean... the water's supposed to be moving upwards." He refrains from using any cooking terms. "Which makes the pasta move."

"What?" Frowning, Robert stares into it. "It burned me, which means it was hot enough to do something. I should've just ordered food." Sighing, he rubs over his head.

And all at once, Jake's confusion is replaced by concern. "No, this will be... good," he argues defensively, as if he had been the one making the dinner.

Pointing to the dead bread and the half-cooked pasta and the massacre that surrounds the sauce pot, Robert raises his eyebrows. "Really?" Needless to say, he's not so sure.

"It can be..." Jake wants to say 'salvaged' but that would be kind of rude, so he just trails off and begins to adjust temperatures.

Robert is happy to stand back, hip against the counter and watch someone who knows what they're doing. "You want an apron? I can get you an apron."

"That would be good." He grins over his shoulder. "Even if I'm not naked."

"Exactly." Undoing his--they really don't need to be a two-apron household-- Robert wraps it around Jake's waist and ties it. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water? Of some variety?" There are quite a few varieties in their fridge, which never fails to amuse Ana when she comes over.

"Water? Yes." Walking over, Robert opens the fridge door. "Vitamin, Smart, Fizzy? Flavored?"

Grinning, Jake prods at the pasta with a fork and adjusts the temperature again. "Surprise me. I feel wild today."

"Ooh. That bodes well for later." Robert grabs a pomegranate water and pops the cap before setting it on the counter. "How was your day?"

"Long. Awful. Truly pointless and boring and can you kiss that spot on the back of my neck that makes it better?" Dinner disaster not withstanding, this day is looking up, and Jake takes a swallow of water as he waits for his kiss.

Easily, Robert rests his hands on Jake's hips and presses his lips to that spot, maybe even teasing that spot with his tongue. Maybe he even holds Jake a little bit longer too. Sue him, his boyfriend's hot.

Grinning, Jake arches his spine, pressing his ass firmly back against Robert.

"Rawr," Robert murmurs in his ear, grinning. "Nice ass."

"You like it? I hadn't noticed." Smirking, Jake pulls away to go to the fridge and get out some fresh herbs he'd bought the other day. No spaghetti sauce is complete without fresh herbs, in his book.

Robert takes a sip of the water and leans back against the counter again. "So. I agreed to do Iron Man 2."

"Well, of course you did. Also, good." Jake doesn't look away from the cutting board - he likes his fingertips and the knife is sharp - but he smiles.

This was Robert's big news. And that's the response. Okay. Well, hmmm. He takes another sip of water. "Shall I set the table?"

Oh, Jake can hear the disappointment in Robert's voice, which just makes his smile wider. "Please?" Taking a small handful of the chopped herbs, he tosses it in the pot.

Getting the silverware and napkins, Robert takes them into the other room and sets the table, slowly, before wandering back into the kitchen to get another bottle of water for himself.

As soon as Robert's back in the kitchen, Jake grabs the front of his shirt and leans in for a hard kiss, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. It's a serious kiss. It's a romantic kiss. It's a god damn Classic Hollywood kiss.

Wow. Robert isn't expecting this, it's fair to say. So it takes him a minute to get with the program, arms coming around Jake's waist as he kisses back. When it finally breaks, he has to ask, "What was that for?"

"For trying to make dinner. For agreeing to do Iron Man 2. For being generally wonderful. Why not?"

"Why not," Robert echoes, smiling at him. "Fair enough."

And so Jake does it again, one hand curling at the back of Robert's head, missing his hair a little bit.

"You're going to distract from the already questionable dinner," Robert feels compelled to remind him between kisses that keep going, of their own accord, of course. "This might be bad." Operative word being 'might.'

"I wouldn't let a dinner be destroyed," Jake chides, then pulls Robert's lower lip into his mouth.

To which Robert groans, hands flattening and palming over Jake's ass, so that they're flush together before he cups the flesh, kneading it. "Are you sure?"

Whining, Jake presses his cheek to Robert's shoulder, rolling his hips forward. "...Yes."

"So I should let you go?" Robert asks, as he cants his head to the side to get that little bit of skin under Jake's ear.

"Mmmm..." Exhaling slowly, Jake finally nods. "We can continue this after dinner?"

It's Robert's turn to shrug. "We might, sure." And he lets Jake go, biting back his grin as he reaches for his water.

Jake gives him a sideways look and then gives a sharp little exhale, letting some of his latent queen through as he stirs the spaghetti sauce.

That gets Robert laughing outright. "It's fun, isn't it?"

"What is? Tormenting me?"

"Just like you tormented me, earlier. Damaging my highly sensitive ego."

"I gave you a kiss! And your ego isn't sensitive, your ego is the size of the moon! The sun! A larger star!" Jake grins at the sauce.

"What?!" Robert gawps. "No, it's not. I'm humble. Lowly. Meager."

Jake turns to look at him, his eyebrows raised so high they're lost underneath his bangs.

"What? I am. I am an every-Joe." Robert nods ruefully. "A schmo."

That gets a loud laugh, and Jake shakes his head as he drains the pasta.

Grinning, Robert takes another sip of water.

"Can we eat, now?" Still snickering, Jake goes to dish up. "Wait, I forgot, you're an everyman. Slop's on, everyman."

Grinning again, Robert scoops up noodles and sauce and carries his plate and water to the table to sit. "Thanks for saving dinner."

"Thanks for making most of it," Jake counters, kissing Robert's cheek as he comes by and then dishing up his own plate.

"Well, you know. I'm a jack of all trades." Snickering Robert sits and waits for Jake before digging in.

Smiling, Jake turns his attention to dinner, which really isn't half bad.

It isn't, and Robert eats his before pushing his plate back. "Needless to say, I didn't hazard dessert."

"That's alright, there's soy ice cream in the freezer. Or me. Your choice." Jake peers up from underneath his bangs, attempting innocence and failing.

"You? Are you sweet enough to be dessert?" Robert asks, slouching low in his chair, legs spread out.

It takes all of Jake's willpower not to slip to his knees right then and there, and he vaguely wonders when his oral fixation became more of a Robert fixation. "You can find out."

"I can. And I will." Upnodding, Robert smiles. "Strip and come kneel by me."

Shivering, Jake slips to his feet and gets out of his clothes with minimal fuss - as soon as that's done with, he's down on his knees, crawling over to kneel up at Robert's side.

All Robert has to do is kick his chair back and spread his legs. "Your mouth on me, please."

Jakes hands slide up Robert's thighs, undoing his fly with one flick of his thumb and hurriedly pulling down his jeans, underwear, just enough so that he can slide his mouth over him down to the base. He moans around him, can't help it.

"Shit." Robert's head falls back and his eyes slit, fingers in Jake's hair. "Good boy."

That, just those words and the hand in his hair, make Jake's heart pound. I don't know how I lived without this. Curling his hands at his thighs, he draws his mouth up Robert's cock and then back down again, tongue curling greedily.

There's a soft groan as Robert just... lets it move through his body. It's-- somewhere along the way, he realized that Jake's blowjobs are the best blowjobs. And they're all his. This makes him smile as he tightens the hand in Jake's hair.

Jake makes a soft noise as the slight pull to his hair, pressing his lips down against the base again and swallowing.

Ass flexing, Robert arches a little off the chair to get more, feeling the heat build and doing nothing to stop it.

He can feel the tension running through Robert's muscles - he'd beg if he could, mewl and groan and tell him how much he loves this, but all Jake can do is hollow his cheeks around him.

And after a moment, that's all it takes and Robert's cock jerks and he can feel himself spill down Jake's throat, groaning softly.

Jake swallows, then leans his cheek on Robert's thigh and whimpers breathlessly.

Softly, Robert strokes his hair. "Bath?"

"Mmhmm. And thank you, sir."

Standing, tucking himself away enough to walk safely, Robert takes Jake's hand and leads him away.

Robert and Jake are reunited

Mon, 05 May 2008 23:46:24 GMT

[backdated to 4 May]

It's Sunday evening and Robert has mirror shades on and a fedora as he walks from the plane to the baggage claim. Patrick should have arranged a driver and he just wants to go home to Jake; he's a simple man at heart. As he enters the baggage claim, he looks around for a sign bearing his code name, Duck, Daffy. And he sees it and his eyes work up to look at the man holding the sign and he has to laugh, bringing his hand to his mouth to stifle it. "Well," he comes up to the driver. "Business that hard up?"

"The music business just doesn't pay these days," Jake explains, completely deadpan. "Shall I take your luggage, sir?" He leans a little on the last word, and oh, it's so hard to keep from just clinging to Robert. Soon.

"Yes, you may." Still smiling, Robert leads the way to the baggage carousel and fetches his suit bag and his suitcase. "At least they sent me a looker."

"I'm a professional, sir," Jake admonishes him, taking the bags.

"I know. And I'm going to be staring at your ass," Robert informs him, as he takes back the suit bag and throws it over his shoulder. "Lead on."

Smiling, Jake chews on his lower lip and does as he's told, making his way out to the car he'd rented. He'd tried for a limo, but apparently you need a special license to drive one of those.

As his bags are thrown into the trunk, Robert lets himself into the passenger seat and thanks higher powers that the windows are tinted. As Jake slips into the driver's seat and shuts the door, Robert pulls off his sunglasses and smiles at Jake. "Hello there."

Jake turns and looks over, smiling broadly. "Hi. Where to?"

"Take me home," Robert said quietly, staring at Jake's profile as they pull away. Has it changed? No, not really, but still. "How have you been?"

"I..." Still smiling, he exhales slowly and gives Robert a sidelong look. "Have spent most of my time waiting."

"Funny," Robert drawls. "Me too." Reaching over, he rests his hand on Jake's thigh. "I missed you."

And suddenly it's that much harder to breathe. "A lot," Jake manages, trying to focus on driving.

Robert smiles and looks out the window. He doesn't even smoke, just watching the the buildings go by. There are still a few photographers camped out in front of his building, so when they arrive, he puts his sunglasses back on. "I'll get one bag and you get the other," he tells Jake as he steps out, waving at the paparazzi.

Jake keeps his head down, and the paparazzi ignore him - he's just another hired hand to them, thank God. Even so, he bustles in quickly, partially to make sure nobody recognizes him and partially because he just wants to be alone with Robert, more than anything.

Following, Robert smiles at the doorman as he walks to the elevator, standing next to Jake, until the elevator dings. "I've been thinking about you," he says quietly.

He steps in, leaning against the wall, trying not to fidget. "Yeah? I'd hope so."

"Have you been thinking about me?" Robert asks, as he leans back against the elevator wall.

"Well, considering I haven't been allowed to come, isn't that a given?" Jake grins. "That was mean, by the way."

"Deliciously cruel, I think you meant to say," Robert replies, grinning as the door opens and he steps out, walking down the hall toward their apartment. "And you've loved every minute of it."

"I have not. I've enjoyed it in a kind of..." He rubs the back of his neck. "I love you having that control over me. But that doesn't make it pleasant."

As he steps into his apartment, Robert just smiles, waiting until Jake's stepped in and he shuts the door and tugs at Jake's elbow. "Come here." When he's close enough, he whispers, "I'll make it up to you."

Jake stumbles a little, pressing his body up against Robert's. "Promise?" God, he's missed him. His mouth nearly hurts with how much he wants a kiss.

"Promise." Tossing his sunglasses away and his hat too, Robert is still smiling as he leans in for a kiss. And it's a slow one, deep and hello and I missed you and all of that.

His arms sliding around Robert's waist, Jake makes a soft noise, feeling something inside of him settle. More than anything, he'd just felt strange without Robert around. At loose ends. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

When it becomes necessary to breathe, Robert pulls back, eyes over Jake's face. "Better?"

"Much better," he murmurs, pressing his cheek against Robert's.

Smiling, Robert holds Jake close. "You missed out on about twelve too many parties. Fetes as it were. Glad-handing abounded. It was... tiring. Very tiring. I'm very glad to be home. And I'm very glad to see you."

"Didn't realize how much I missed you," Jake admits, hand curling into the front of Robert's shirt. "Until I saw the movie."

"You saw the movie?" Arm around Jake's waist, Robert pulls him toward the couch to sit. "What did you think?"

"Of course I did. And I... well, it was kind of hard to concentrate on anything but you, and your face, and your arms, but I really did love it." He pauses, head cocking. "Of course I saw it. With Ana, no less."

"With Ana. Oh my." Robert smiles. "And my arms, hmm?" He doesn't flex, not exactly, but he does stroke down Jake's arm. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. That is very important to me that you did."

"It was brilliant. Was weirdly hard to watch you near-death, though." Smiling, Jake leans into the touch. "And yeah, your arms."

"I'll use them to hold you, then." Robert pulls Jake closer, leaning his cheek against his lover's hair. "And how's Ana?"

"Mmmm... she's good. I told her about the collar. She approves."

"Ah, good. I can sleep easier now." Robert leans back, closing his eyes and smiling.

"Except that you're not going to sleep." He tries to keep the note of panic out of his voice as he crawls onto Robert's lap. "Right?"

Eyes still closed, Robert grins. "Why? You would rob me of my sleep?" Really, who can resist teasing? Who? Not Robert.

"Yes," Jake promises him. The panic is kind of winning. "Two weeks. Two weeks."

"Two weeks? Was it really two weeks?" Robert's brow furrows. "That went by fast."

"For you. You were off having parties and getting called a genius. I was home, alone, and not allowed to come."

"Aww." Eyes still closed, Robert strokes over Jake's hair. "Were you tempted?"

"I told you I saw the movie, right?"

This makes Robert laugh outright. "You are very good to my ego."

"Yeah, well." Smiling, Jake curls against Robert's chest, kissing softly at his neck. "It made me kind of smug. 'That's the guy who fucks me on a regular basis', that kind of thing."

"Ah. I see." Tilting his chin down, eyes still closed, Robert drags his lips along Jake's jaw until he finds his mouth. The kiss this time is slower, easier, one that savors. Relishes.

Jake's exhale sounds more like a whimper, but that's okay, everything is okay when he can wrap his arms around Robert's neck and part his lips for him.

"Let's go to bed. Shall we?" Robert asks as he rises, pulling Jake with him. "Sound like a plan?"

"Perfect," Jake agrees quickly, hopping to his feet and making his way to the bedroom.

Robert stops to take out his contacts, then he walks into the bedroom proper and starts undoing his shirt buttons. "Home sweet home," he says with a smile.

"You really better not be going to sleep, you know."

"Or what?" Robert chuckles. "What will you do if I do? I am an old man after all."

"I'll be really, really upset." Reaching up, he slowly undoes the buttons on his own shirt, shrugging it off with one easy movement of his thin shoulders.

That's an inspiring sight, if Robert does say so. "Pants too," he says, gesturing. "Socks. All that."

Thank God. Purring, Jake undoes his fly and swings his hips until the trousers fall, then pulls off his boxers and socks as well. "That better?"

"Yes. And you're prepped." It's not a question.

Jake licks his lips and walks back until his calves hit the edge of the bed, keeping eye contact with Robert as he leans back. "Of course."

"Of course, he says. Hands and knees." As Robert watches, he kicks off his shoes and bends over to pull off his socks. Then he finishes removing his shirt and starts on his trousers. "Show me your ass."

After a little bit of squirming, Jake slides up onto all fours, spine arching enough to make him feel the pull in his muscles as he rocks his hips backwards, trying to make it look good.

"Very good." When he's naked, Robert steps closer and rubs his hands together to warm them. "I've missed your ass," he declares as he brings his hand down in a sharp slap.

The pain is sudden, oddly unexpected, perfect, and Jake rocks forward with it and a sharp cry. "Oh..."

Robert loves that sound, fluttering and sincere. It prompts goosepimples up his back. So he brings his hand down again, and again. Five times total before he pauses, shaking out the sting.

Heat crawls in waves over his skin before beginning to fade, and it's all Jake can do to keep from begging; as it is, he arches enough to press his cheek against the sheets, whimpering under his breath.

"Good boy." Running his hand over the heated skin, Robert smiles, eyes narrowed. Then a finger is pressed between and in, curling inside. He hisses. Jake jokes, but it's not as if Robert's come in two weeks either. Who has the time? "Can you reach the condoms?"

It takes some effort, and he has to unbend himself, but he's halfway to the drawer before pausing. Lowering his hand back to the bed, he looks over his shoulder at Robert.

It takes a moment for Robert to realize Jake isn't moving. "Yes," he says, squinting at Jake. "Oh." Eyebrows up. "Are you sure?"

Jake nods slowly, sliding back down to the bed, hips arching upwards again. He can feel himself flush - like this, he's on the line in every way, vulnerable. Please be sure as well.

Running his hands down Jake's back, Robert's actually thinking quite hard, mind going in a thousand directions at once. His last blood test, clean of course, the ramifications of this, the angles. He can feel Jake's ribs, the jut of his hips. He can feel the desire too, sharp under his skin. So he takes a step foward. Jake's skin is still red from the slaps and feels warm to the touch. Guiding his cock toward the opening, he's surprised to find he's holding his breath.

His own breath hitching hard, Jake closes his eyes and presses back; a tremor runs through his slender frame as Robert pushes into him, and a gasp turns into startled-sounding moan. Missed you so much it's frightening.

Robert's not quite so eloquent when he blurts out, "holy shit." It's not his first time bareback (unfortunately), but it's his first time doing it clean and sober with emotions involved. He pushes forward, not stopping, feeling the heat encase him and it's enough to take his breath away. "God, Jake."

Even through the haze of pleasure and the lingering ache from Robert's hand, Jake grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." As Robert starts to move, he can't keep his eyes open. It's better to close his eyes and concentrate on the feeling, his hands wrapped around Jake's hips. "I missed you. God, I missed you."

His nails curling into the sheets, Jake nods and rolls his hips back - he'd speak, agree, beg to find a way to come along next time, but all his words are lost in another moan.

He's not moving fast enough to hear skin slapping, but it's steady and Robert can feel his muscles tightening already and he slows even more to let the pleasure build, to chase it, to taste it.

This, this is what Jake's missed, being able to close his eyes and just feel, with Robert's steady, grounding touch at his hipbones.

His toes curling into the carpet, Robert lets his head fall back. "Touch yourself, Jake," he groans. "Come when you can."

Wiggling back against Robert for balance as he gets his hand between his legs, Jake hisses and spreads out his thighs. Thank you, sir, he thinks, unsure if he should say it, unsure if he could. With how long it's been, it doesn't take more than a few strokes before he's coming, crying out shamelessly and slamming back onto Robert's cock.

"Oh, Jesus," Robert gasps as the clench pulls his orgasm out of him with a jerk. "Fuck." He's holding tight enough to leave marks and he can't help but buck forward, arching over, forehead to Jake's spine. "God!"

The feel of Robert inside of him makes Jake moan softly, panting against the sheets.

After a moment spent panting, Robert pulls free slowly, spins on his heel and falls onto the bed on his back. "Fuck me, that was good."

It takes some effort to wiggle over to Robert's side, but once he gets there Jake rests his cheek on Robert's chest. "No kidding."

"Am I allowed to sleep now?" Robert asks, eyes closed, face turned so his nose is in Jake's hair.

Smiling, Jake strokes his fingertips over Robert's stomach. "Soon. I really did miss you, you know."

"I got that. And I missed you too," Robert hums. "You smell good."

"Yeah? Some new body wash that Ana brought over. She thinks it's her duty in life to turn me into a proper fag, with all the good fashion sense and body washes that entails. Not that I mind the body wash, just the fashion."

"Tell her I'll take care of what you wear," Robert murmurs, dozing. "She can let her bird fly from his nest."

Smiling, Jake kisses Robert's jaw. "I want to wear the leather collar tomorrow."

"Alright. Am I allowed to request meals? I missed that...." Robert waves his hand vaguely. "That lemon thing you made. What's that called?"

"Lemon... I make a lot of things with lemon. I love lemon. You'll have to be more specific."

"Uh.. Lemon. Rice? Was there something with lemon and rice?"

That Robert would remember even that much makes Jake smile even more, even as it unsettles him. Dinner requests. A bit of spanking and a welcome-home fuck and then I'll make him dinner, later. Are they that domestic? All the same, he puts it out of his head and kisses Robert's neck again. "There was indeed."

"Excellent. We'll do that after a nap. There's nothing shameful about a nap." Robert pulls Jake closer still until he's half-draped over him. "I love you, Jake," he mumbles as he relaxes.

Jake's lips part to reply, to say I love you - he's told Robert that, though not in such a direct way, apropos of nothing but Robert's own affection. Still, he doesn't, and isn't sure whether to be more alarmed by that or the fact that he does love him. "Nothing to be ashamed of at all," he finally says, still smiling as he closes his eyes.

Jake and Ana go see Iron Man

Mon, 05 May 2008 00:32:39 GMT

[backdated to 2 May]

"I don't know how I'm going to get through this," Jake whines, leaning his cheek against Ana's shoulder and slumping a little in the taxi's seat. It's unpleasantly sticky. "I mean, I told you what the rule for when he's away is, right? Yeah? This is just... a god damn insult on top of a very real injury." He pauses. "You've seen the pictures. I'm going to explode."

"That's why I brought a plastic bag," Ana soothes, patting his cheek and her purse. "To catch the Jake bits. Just whatever you do, don't yell out or come or anything silly like that, Jakey."

He closes his eyes and pouts at the ripped roof of the taxi, hand patting around to find hers and squeeze it. "I won't. He'll be home soon. You think I'm going to risk him saying no for another few weeks just because I had a spontaneous orgasm in the movie theater? No fucking way."

Ana has to laugh. "It's so cute how whipped you are!" She nuzzles his cheek. "Just imagine fucking me if you get close."

"Oh, fuck, ew. That would totally do it. And I'm not whipped." He pauses again, hand sneaking into her purse to find a lollipop. "Okay, I am, but that's really not the point. I'd think you'd be understanding, or do you make fun of the people who do what you want?"

"I make fun of you. Because it's fun," she replies, kissing his cheek again. "I'm so geeked to see this movie! Your boyfriend is hot! I'd so do him. Multiple times. I'd even let him tie me up. And you know how rare that is."

"You totally won't, though," Jake reminds her, surprised at how fierce he suddenly sounds. "He's mine."

Smiling, Ana holds and rubs his hand. Secretly, she thinks it's very unfair that Jake didn't get to go to LA. She understands it. It doesn't mean she likes it. "Shit," she whispers as the cab pulls up in front of the theatre. "I'm glad we got tickets in advance."

"How lame would it be if I couldn't even get into my own boyfriend's movie? Come on." Paying the driver, Jake unwraps the lollipop and sticks it in his mouth before climbing out.

Pushing and shoving their way past the line, they manage to get in and Jake manages by sheer force to talk Ana out of candy. Then the theatre itself, already nearly full, so much that Ana has to push down and aisle and dirty-look someone into moving over. She plops down with an "oof." "Jesus Christ. You'd think this movie was popular or something."

Jake snickers. "You know he wouldn't tell me, like, anything about it? Said he didn't want to ruin it. He's such a secret geek."

"A secret hot geek. Fuck." Reaching into her purse, Ana pulls out a Cadbury bar-- ha!-- and starts to unwrap it. "Doesn't he have a chick in this movie?"

"Yeah. Gwyneth Paltrow. Didn't we meet her once accidentally? She liked your shoes? Nice lady."

"Cute husband too," she adds. "Bad baby name." Offering over the candybar, she watches the screen as the previews start.

Jake nibbles on the chocolate, having crunched through his lollipop already. "Shield my eyes if it looks like my boyfriend's going to die?"

"Okay," she stage-whispers. There's a little bit of sad ooing as The Dark Knight previews come on, but then the movie's starting. And within five minutes, she's shielding his eyes.

"What, no, I was lying," he hisses, trying to bat her hands away. "I know he's..." Having successfully gotten Ana's hands away from his face, he blinks at the screen, feeling something in his chest twist sideways with a nearly physical wrench. "...oh."

"It's not real," she reminds him, holding his hand. "He's not Iron Man, yet. See?" The scene backtracks and there's Robert in a suit and sunglasses. "Damn," She whispers. "He could fuck me in the ladies'."

That's not the point, he wants to say, I know it's not real. But then he's elbowing her and staring at the screen. "Shut up, if he's going to be fucking anyone in the ladies' it's going to be me."

Okay, so when Robert rolls off the bed and onto the floor and cackles like a loon? That makes Ana laugh. A lot. And she doesn't even ask if he's done that with Jake, instead, focusing on the screen. "Ooh," she has to whisper. "Strawberry blond isn't her friend."

Giggling as well, leaning against Ana's shoulder, Jake shakes his head. "No."

"Is that the guy who voices Homer Simpson?" Ana asks into Jake's ear once the scene has shifted back to Afghanistan. "Doesn't that look like that guy?" Okay, so maybe she's not exactly the best movie-going companion. But at least she's sincere.

"Yeah, I... wow, I actually think that might be. That's hilarious and a little scary. I'll ask him."

Ana nods and settles. For a moment anyway, as Tony Stark stars making his first Iron Man suit. "I love brainy hunks. Fuck."

"Uh, why do you think I'm dating one?" It's hard to keep the smugness out of his voice. "They still say he's a character genius, you know."

"I know. I saw Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang." Ana nibbles on the chocolate, offering Jake bits as the action builds and builds. After another fifteen minutes or so, she leans over to ask in a whisper. "How'd they find him?"

He blinks, trying to focus on what she's saying. "How'd... who?"

"His military gay buddy. Never mind." Because Robert's back in LA and there's bald Jeff Bridges again and for some reason, Ana doesn't trust Bald-Jeff-Bridges.

Who does? But all Jake can focus on, whenever he's in the scene, is Robert. I didn't know I missed you so much.

Even Ana falls quiet as the action builds, gripping Jake's hand hard enough that her knuckles are white, pausing at times to laugh. Training Exercise? Really? But she can't remember when she had such a good time at the movies.

At the end of it, Jake turns to her, his eyes wide. "I miss him so much, babe. It's kind of scary."

"Oh, sweetie." Ana gives him a kiss. "I know. Soy crap? Can you call him?"

"Soy crap, definitely. And I could, maybe I should, I don't know." He hands over her purse as he stands up. "I'm kind of scared to, now."

"Why?" Ana leans back against him as they crawl over people who aren't moving. "Are you not supposed to?"

"No! I am! He said to! I don't know, it's just kind of wigging me out, missing him this much. I mean, it shouldn't, I..." he touches the chain and suddenly realizes something with a start. "Uh. Babe? Don't hate me, I have something to tell you, I can't believe I've not told you yet."

"Wait til we get outside!" She admonishes and pulls him out of the theatre, through hoards of people, to the sidewalk and a cab, turning to Jake. "Which address?"

He gives the address to the driver and slumps against her once they're settled, wanting to wait until they're alone.

A stop for two tubs of dessert (Ana can't in good conscience call Jake's soy crap 'ice cream') and a trip up the elevator and she's following Jake into his and Robert's place. "So spill already! Is it something to do with your new bling?"

It's impossible to stop grinning, even with how nervous he is at what Ana will say, what she'll think. "Guess."

"You're cock-whipped in a way you never expected to be? In love, head over heels? Hmm?" Ana flips off the top of her ice cream and reaching in with her finger to scoop some out. "It's adorable, actually. How much did he spend?"

"I have no idea, he's..." Jake takes a deep breath, gnawing on his lower lip for a moment. "It's a collar."

Grinning around her finger, Ana all but sidles over. "I know, sweetie. Big fucking deal? How long? Hmm?"

He gawps at her, eyes widening. "This is kind of a big deal to me and you know and didn't say anything?" He takes a big bite of his soy ice cream. "I... about a month, now. There's a proper collar, too. Leather, actually."

"I was waiting for you to tell me," Ana sing-songs. "SO!" She plops down on the sofa. "How'd he do it? Was it romantic as shit? Are you going to call him?"

"Not..." Jake takes another bite and shrugs. "Not romantic by usual standards. It meant a lot. And I... will. After I eat my weight in ice cream."

Beckoning him over, Ana snuggles up against him. "I think he's very good for you, you know. I do. And you can always thank me for getting you two back together."

"Yeah, yeah. I was jealous. Thought somebody else had designs on him."

"Yeah, yeah. I fixed it and you know it." Ana preens, going on to eat her ice cream with her finger because Jake's too rude to get her a spoon. "And now you're his boy. Lots of rules?"

"Not a lot, really. Either things that were there before, or kind of... codified versions of things we'd already agreed on."

"And you miss him. And he's a big ass star and you'll be in his closet for as long as you both shall live," she says softly. "Is that okay with you?"

Jake's face falls a little bit - he rubs his palms across his cheeks, then takes a defiantly large bite of ice cream. "Weirdly, yeah. I mean, it's not... good, but I think it bothers him more than it bothers me." He smiles. "He doesn't like being told he can't do something."

"I wouldn't if I were like him either." Ana rests her cheek on his shoulder. "You love him."

"Stop saying that," Jake mutters. "You girls and your 'love' things." Except he can remember agreeing with Patrick, of all people, that he loved Robert, and he glances sideways at her with a smile. "He's tamed me." It's love. It's other things. She's more or less the only person he knows who will understand all of what it means.

"Oh, sweetie. Aren't you cute," Ana says softly. "I bet you've done good by him too. I'm so glad for you."

He reaches over and squeezes her hand. "I am too."

"Good. Now get me a spoon, for fuck's sake."

"What? Oh, sorry." Kissing her cheek, he gets to his feet, dialing Robert's number as he walks to the kitchen.

Complicated Life gets a wee bit more Complicated. And simpler in some ways too.

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 01:58:05 GMT

There are ten suits, an additional five suit jackets, nearly twenty shirts, a handful of ties, and various kinds of pants. And they're all spread over the living room. It is... less than pleasing.

But then, that's not all. Robert, it seems, is packing. Iron Man promotions are starting hardcore and he's going to various countries for various lengths of time before the premiere finds him in LA.

Robert, technophobe that he is, has been besieged by faxes, phone calls and emails. That is part of the reason why Patrick's here. To keep him abreast of what he's supposed to be doing. The other reason is that he needs to be packed and no offense, but Jake's fashion taste isn't exactly A-list friendly. But Robert's taste is worse when left to his own devices. Hence Patrick. That and Jake's not back yet.

"I need a cigarette," Robert declares, wanting to sit except there's no place to sit. Every available surface is taken up by clothes. This is disturbing.

"You're out," Patrick reminds him.

"Out?"

"Out."

"I'm out of cigarettes."

"You're out of cigarettes."

"Fuck," Robert sighs. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse. "I'm going to go get cigarettes."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Paparazzi have been stalking you. I'll go."

Robert stares at his PA who's somehow become better paid and more general. Who seems to be sticking around. "I'll be fine." He goes to the door to find his big plastic-framed sunglasses and he pockets his keys. "If I can sit when I get back, that'd be grand."

"Yes, sir," Patrick replies, just as he should, laughing softly as the door closes.

It's been a long day for Jake, and all he's been thinking about for the past five hours - through an endless meeting with top cat types from the label and then a pointless (so far as he could tell) photo shoot - has been going home, making himself a cup of tea, and sitting on top of Robert's feet while he reads. It sounds like the perfect plan, and as the day's gone along he's embellished it: chai tea, he'll read an Archie comic (his guilty relaxation pleasure of choice), and demand a few kisses.

Perfect, just per -

Except that as he opens the door, his neat and tidy apartment has been strewn with clothing. Clothing he doesn't quite recognize. Being packed by some he knows he doesn't recognize.

"Uh, is this, I'm -"

He glances around. No, it is his apartment, so he steps inside. "Um."

Turning around, Patrick's eyes are already wide, then he claps his hands together before he can stop himself. "Oh my god, it's you!" He might even bounce a little. Because, well, he is only twenty-four and he does love Jake and Jake's here and somehow, Patrick expected him to be taller? But that's okay. Because he's here. "I'm Patrick, hi! Ohmygod, hi."

"Oh my God, you're Patrick?" Laughing, and rocking onto his toes to bounce a little bit himself (the excitement's contagious), Jake grins. "Can I give you a hug? Because you are a total saint to deal with Robert at work, I don't care how much you're getting paid."

"OhmyGOD, yes!" Patrick, in what his friends call his queen!prance, comes over and throws his arms wide. "I can't tell you what a thrill this is! Ever since Filthy Gorgeous, I have loved you!"

Squeaking, Jake gives Patrick a big hug. It's nice to be able to interact with a fan he knows isn't going to get awkward with him - after all, Patrick works for Robert, any awkward has probably long since faded away. "Thank you!"

"I have that picture-- you with your sailor hat and nothing else? God, I love that picture." Patrick just beams at Jake. "Do you suppose..." he has to ask. Robert's gone, he can't get fired. "Can I take our picture?"

"Oh, fuck, totally, of course." He gives Patrick a bit of a look, suddenly wondering (not for the first time) just how much he knows and what exactly his non-disclosure contract covers. "But first - you know why I'm here, right? And phone all the time?"

"Oh, of course. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out." Running over to his bag, Patrick pulls out his phone and comes back. "Can I--" He puts his arm around Jake's waist and aims the camera at both of them, then it shoots and he checks the screen. "Yay! Thank you!" And he goes to put his phone back. "If you don't mind my asking... is it hard? I mean, you're so OUT and he's... well, not."

Jake shrugs and flops down on one of the empty couch-spaces. "Kind of? But mostly just logistics stuff when things are so crazy and the paparazzi are freaking out. There's... places we can go, though? For couples like us, kind of?" He grins and puts his feet up on the table. "So it's okay."

"Ooh, sounds all hush-hush," Patrick teases as he picks up the ties and begins sorting them to the suits. "Is that..." he points to Jake's neck. "A thing?"

Flushing bright pink, Jake touches his 'collar'. "Uh, what kind of thing?"

"A... uh..." Waving his hand sent ties fluttering. "A thing? From Robert? A commitment thing? Tell me to shut up, totally." Patrick blushes too.

"Oh, that kind of thing. It is, sort of." He grins and rolls his eyes. "Platinum. I told him silver was fine, but no, it had to be platinum. I love him but he's so obvious. And secretly fucking loves being a huge-ass star."

Patrick has to snicker. "You don't know the half of it! He does this stare thing?" He imitates, eyes bugging out a little bit, jaw set. "And he demands something? And then when whoever-it-is scurries off? He's all like 'I'm the shit.'" He has to laugh. "It's kind of cute. When it's not directed at me."

"Oh, you totally have no idea, he does that to me too. Me!" Jake snorts, then leans back smugly. "I did get him to stop smoking inside, though. And he's practically vegetarian. I have him whipped there." No need to mention that it's because he makes the meals. Or that he was actually whipped the other day. Um.

"Really?!" Patrick stares. "How'd you do it?"

Jake raises his eyebrows and snickers. "I bitch like a fucking pro and threaten to withhold sex."

"Ooh." Laughing, Patrick nods. "That might do it. Does he get whiny?"

"Uh, no, he just pays no attention to my threats and fucks me anyway, but..." Jake grins. "Seems to work anyway, eventually."

Again, Patrick laughs and loudly. "I haven't had a date in forever! I'm starting to get desperate!"

"Oh my God, find someone who isn't like Robert, though. Don't be jealous of me. He's fucking crazy."

"I'm not jealous! Trust me! Though I've seen him naked!" Waggling his brows, Patrick chuckles. "I just want a date."

"I have, like, no friends lately, but I promise you - if I ever know a single guy worthy of you, I will totally set you two up. You deserve a knighthood for what you do, but a date will have to suffice. I'll keep my eyes wide open."

"Aww, thanks." Grinning, Patrick gets the ties sorted. "You won't be going on the tour, right?"

Suddenly it occurs to Jake that he doesn't know, though he vaguely remembers Robert asking him something about it. "I... am not sure. He wants me to go, I think." He also remembers that Robert, soon after asking about it, mentioned something about warm skin. It's his fault Jake can't remember.

"The paparrazi have been everywhere lately," Patrick replies softly. "Everywhere."

"Yeah." Running a hand through his hair, Jake glances out the window. "Ana... Ana said, once, that she could come along or something. Make it, like, a Scissor Sisters cheering squad or something. I don't know. It's shitty."

Grimacing, Patrick comes over, and moves shirts out of the way so he can sit next to Jake, patting his thigh. "The closet isn't the nicest place."

"No, but..." He shrugs and snuggles against Patrick a little, just because it's been way too long since he's been able to be around someone who gets it. "I'll live. And Robert's, like, a fucking cucumber. He's basically dealt with the worst it can get, right? So he knows his way around it."

Leaning against him, Patrick smiles. "You really love him, don't you?"

Blinking, Jake sits up a bit. "I..." What's the bother in denying it? He smiles and sits back. Even if he can't ever say it to Robert, fuck, at least he can say it to his PA. "Yeah, I do. God knows why, but I do."

"God does know why, I'm sure," Patrick laughs. "Because I don't!" He throws his hands up. "Teasing! I'm teasing!"

When Robert opens the door, he stops cold. It's something like a nightmare. Patrick and Jake. Snuggled on his couch. Laughing. Surely they're laughing at him. Thank fuck he's had three cigarettes in the last ten minutes, so his nicotine high is cresting. "And how is everyone?" He asks as he shuts the door.

Jake glances over with a grin. "Just fine, sir," he says brightly, then half-turns to Patrick to roll his eyes.

Oh, Robert sees the eyeroll all right. "Good." He detours into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. "Patrick? Am I packed?"

Adding an eyeroll of his own, Patrick stands. "Just about, sir."

Giggling, Jake follows Patrick to his feet and gives him a quick hug before padding after Robert.

As he turns around, closing the refrigerator, Robert sees Jake, leaning back against the fridge. "Hi. Good day?"

"Really phenomenally shitty day, actually, but Patrick cheered me up. He's good at that. Have you noticed that? I noticed that. I like him."

"You do like him." Reaching out, Robert snags Jake's wrist and pulls him closer. "You two are buddies."

Jake laughs and goes willingly, but he looks up at Robert with wide blue eyes that do nothing to hide just how much he loves that hand around his wrist. "Pals, even."

"Compadres. Amigos. Chums." A smile breaks out over Robert's face the closer Jake gets. "Hello."

"Hi, sir," he whispers, serious now. "I missed you." Leaning in, he presses their lips together, just briefly.

"I missed you too," Robert replies, a hand wrapping around the back of Jake's neck, so he speaks the words against Jake's lips. "Looking at all those clothes made me think of you."

"Really? But I have horrible fashion sense." The hand at his neck makes him smile even more, eyelashes fluttering.

"You do. I remember a picture involving plaid." Dragging his lips along Jake's jaw, Robert is still smiling. "We need to get rid of Patrick."

"That was... that was Ana's idea," Jake protests, distracted by Robert's mouth. "And you've scarred Patrick before, why are you suddenly thoughtful?"

"Because I want to fuck you against the window," Robert breathes into his ear.

"When don't you want to fuck me against the window?" But his eyes are nearly closed, and he has to swallow past his moan. There's something - there's something they need to talk about, though. He just has to remember what. It's hard, with this kind of distraction...

"There are the random times...." Robert loves the way Jake moans, his hand skating down to cup Jake's ass. "Besides. I need to do it since I won't be able to for a while. Hence all the suits."

Right, that. That settles it, Jake supposes, his body pressing back into Robert's hand of its own free will. "I'll miss you when you're gone, sir..."

Leaning back, Robert frowns. "I meant I'd be away from the window." Eyes narrowing, he asks, "Are you not coming?"

Oh, damn. Wrong fucking answer, then. "I want to, but wouldn't the tabloids get a little..." He waves his hand a bit. "Curious? You're kind of a big deal."

Robert has to nod. He is a big deal. GQ, Esquire, EW, etc, etc, so forth and on and on. His picture was taken as he got cigarettes. "Maybe it's better if you don't," he's forced to admit, as he frowns. "I don't like that."

"It's not like I like it all that much myself, you know. But it's not for long. And there's always the phone..." Smiling, Jake steps closer, leaving no doubt to what they'd talk about.

"Don't say webcam," Robert warns. "I'd need Patrick's help."

Jake snickers and kisses Robert's cheekbone, then takes his lover's earlobe between his teeth. "No, just the phone, but you know the sounds I make..."

Robert's eyes slip closed and his grip of Jake's hip tightens. "I do. I like those sounds."

Purring, Jake slides the tip of his tongue along the curve of Robert's ear, the new short hair around his ear tickling his jaw. "I know you do."

"Patrick!" Robert calls out abruptly. "Are you done?"

"Almost?"

"Be done."

There's a pause and then Patrick responds. "Yes, sir. Come back tomorrow?"

"That," Robert declares. "Would be grand."

"Bye, Patrick," Jake breaks away from Robert to call. "Don't be a stranger. We should have coffee sometime. I'll set you up with someone."

"Bye, Jake!" Patrick trills and a moment later, they hear the door shut and Robert's smile turns the slightest bit predatory. "We're alone now."

"Window, I think you said?" Oh, and he might get smacked, but that's half the fun of it, isn't it? Smiling cheerfully, Jake salutes. "I'll get right on that. Or up against it, rather."

"Do get right on that." And Jake does get smacked, right on the ass, with a pinch for good measure.

Snickering again, Jake makes his way to the window, peeling off his clothes languidly as he goes.

When he's naked, silhouetted against the glass, Robert leans against the doorjamb and just admires, as always. "Face me, please."

That's surprising, but Jake does as he's told. It's impossible for him not to preen under the attention - one hip cocks out, and he lifts his chin, smiling.

Skating his eyes down Jake's body, Robert looks closely. Memories last a lifetime, they say. "Touch yourself."

Oh, that he can do beautifully, and he leans his shoulders back against the cool glass as he strokes his palm down his chest. His cock jerks slightly in protest when he takes his time to twist one nipple, but he stays slow and decadent, scratching his nails down his stomach.

Goosebumps run up Robert's spine and he's partly ready to tell Jake that he doesn't have to enjoy it so much. But he doesn't say that, of course, starting to undo the buttons of his shirt.

His lashes flutter as his head falls back, his hand finally wrapping lightly around his cock. He strokes it once, twice, then drags his nails up his inner thigh hard enough to leave stinging white lines in the pink skin.

"Jesus Christ." Robert's shirt gets tossed in with his new shirts, which will later irritate Patrick, but now he just stares as he walks out of his shoes and closer to the boy against the glass. "Spread your legs."

Purring, Jake does as he's told, rubbing his thumb against the head of his cock and mewling softly. Not giving into himself and touching himself more, though. Robert wanted a show, and Jake will give it to him.

"Do you want to be fucked?" Robert asks after a moment. "Be honest, yes."

Jake can't help but laugh a little at that, even if it hitches. "When don't I want to get fucked? Yes, sir."

"Mouthy," Robert chides without heat as he undoes his belt. "I don't think you mean it."

That pulls a whine from him, and he half-shakes his head, arching his hips away from the window as he twists one of his nipples again. "Always want to get fucked by you, thought of it all day, even in that fucking awful meeting."

"Did you? How did you imagine it happening?" Robert asks as he undoes his pants and steps out of them.

"Oh, God, I don't know. Over the arm of the couch, the way the wooden frame digs into my hips. Against the wall. I tried not to go into specifics, I had to focus."

"It sounds like it." Laughing, Robert comes closer still after stepping out of his boxers. "What was your meeting about?"

"When the band is going to start recording. What we think the album might be like. Everyone else is scattered to the winds, so they shanghaied me into being the mouthpiece..."

"Sounds fascinating." Robert scrapes his fingers down Jake's chest hard enough to leave marks. "I'm sure it was."

Jake's breath hitches, then cracks, and his eyes close as he moans brokenly. "Oh, fuck, please sir, please fuck me, please."

Grasping Jake's shoulders, Robert turns him back around the face the window. "With your meeting, did you have a chance to prep?" He asks as he separated Jake's ass cheeks and slides a finger down.

Flushing suddenly with the shame of it, Jake shakes his head, feeling nervousness coil in his stomach. "No, sir, I'm sorry..."

Eyebrows up, Robert cocks his head. "Really?" And sure enough, there's no tell-tale slickness there. "Hmmm." This is a dilemma. He leaves in less than 48 hours. But his boy broke a rule. Shit. He gives Jake a good hard slap across the ass. Then another. "Why not?"

Biting hard on his bottom lip, he hisses and leans his forehead against the window, arching back against the slaps. "I was going to when I got home, but Patrick... distracted me, wanted a picture with me, and then you came home, and -"

"Uh-huh." Those were excuses and Robert frowns more. Two more slaps, harder this time, enough to get his palm stinging. "Try again."

"I'm sorry," Jake whimpers, eyes closing. "I should have anyway, I'm sorry."

It's a solid, steady spanking now and Robert distracts himself from the stinging in his hand by looking at how pink Jake's ass is and he keeps going, harder, too. "Yes. You should have."

His fingertips curl and scrabble against the glass as Jake tries to breathe in enough to speak - he can't, it's enough just to mewl and arch his spine.

He's lost count by the time he stops, and Robert steps back. "Prep yourself. Now."

As soon as he can inhale enough air to stop the buzzing behind his eyes, Jake's moving, stumbling over to the couch - he knows there's lube there, somewhere underneath it, and he whispers a soft 'thank God' when he finds it quickly. It takes him a second to kneel up properly, but then he's spreading lube over his fingers - not much, just enough.

Robert watches, stroking himself lightly with a reddened sensitive hand. "Don't rush now. You didn't have time earlier. You have time now. Take it."

Jake hesitates, then nods, looking up at Robert as he reaches back to press one finger inside of himself. He flushes pink, eyelashes fluttering, but doesn't look away as he rocks his hips down.

Nodding, Robert bites back the "good boy" that wants to come out, squeezing as his cock throbs.

He doesn't do anything to silence his high, shameless moan as he presses in a second finger, hips moving smoothly now, needing.

Turning on his heel, Robert goes to the small cabinet and pulls open the top drawer and gets a condom, ripping it open and slicking it on, tossing the wrapper on the top of the piano.

Jake starts to get up, to go to the window, but instead just closes his eyes (finally) and presses in a third finger with a whimper that's nearly a yelp.

It's enough to make Robert smile as he waits, holding his balls; they feel heavy. He's not a patient man, but he waits.

Looking up again with a quick, sharp breath, Jake makes a choked-off noise. "Please?"

"Get against the window." It comes out a growl and Robert's tempting to yank Jake to his feet, but he stands back. "Now."

Robert's voice, the snap of it, is enough to have Jake on his feet almost before he pulls his fingers out from inside of himself, stumbling back to the window and bracing himself against it, legs spread out wantonly.

Almost roughly, Robert pushes against Jake and nudges his cock against the now-slick opening, shoving in evenly and hard. "Fuck," he hisses this time, not stopping until he can feel his hips slap against Jake's ass as he grips the bone and pulls Jake back onto him. So Jake is moved, his cock drizzling on the glass, as Robert can feel his body flush.

"Sir, thank you sir," Jake babbles, his nails scraping down the glass as his eyes slam closed. "Oh, God. Yours, yours to fuck, whatever you want from me. I'm sorry. Thank you."

It's charming, really. If Robert were paying attention to that. But he's not; he's pulling Jake back on himself and it sounds wet and feels good and he's clenching and thrusting in and it's, he's thinking, quite near bliss. And he's going to miss Jake terrifically.

Jake's forehead hits the glass with a dull thud, and he presses his palms flat to the glass to steady himself, still babbling to himself - unintelligible, mostly, but the meaning's clear.

"You don't get to come," Robert hisses, his body feeling tight, pulling Jake back harder. "Understand?"

Whimpering, Jake nods, letting Robert move him however he wants.

It only takes a few more hard thrusts before Robert's coming with a soft, low groan, forehead pressed to the back of Jake's neck, breath hot against his skin. "Fuck."

It's all Jake can do not to come without permission - he bites into his lower lip hard, hard enough to pull his thoughts away from the pleasure. To bring him some degree of clarity. "Thank you..."

After he catches his breath, Robert kisses the back of his neck. Then he pulls free, pulling off the condom and holding it until he trusts his legs to carry him to the trash. "Good boy."

Jake slumps against the window, whimpering constantly, unaware of the sounds he's making.

It's enough to get Robert to smile as he ambles over to the trashcan in the kitchen and tosses the condom. "So tell me," he says, realizing he's being a sadistic ass. 'What will you do while I'm gone?"

It takes a moment for Jake to be able to follow what he's saying; his thoughts are elsewhere. "Not jack off? Wait for you to come home. I want your hand, when you come home. Inside me. Please."

Well, shit. That's enough to make Robert stumble. He catches himself with a hand on the wall and stares at Jake. "Fist you?"

Jake smiles, not so far gone that he can't enjoy the fact that he almost made Robert fall over. "You asked me if I would. I would."

His jaw flexing, Robert strides up to Jake and catches his chin. "You said you wouldn't come until I get back. I'll hold you to that. You break the rules, you know what happens." And he kisses Jake fiercely.

Two weeks. You can make two weeks. Whimpering beneath the kiss, Jake smiles again. Yours.

When Robert leans back, he shakes his head. "You're a masochist of the highest order. It must be part of why I love you." And with that, he turns on his heel and heads toward the shower. "Are you coming with?" He asks, just as he disappears from sight.

Jake watches him go, shaking his head. Must be. And then he follows.

Robert, Jake, and a collar. Really.

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 01:05:21 GMT

The Club is good for many things. Including, but not limited to, shopping. Where else can an closeted A-list star go to buy his very-out Boy a collar? Tiffany's is nice, Harry Winston, too, but the Est can get just as good quality without the pesky, flashy headlines. They have the small bag with the jewelry box inside and Robert his holding Jake's hand in the car that is taking them back to the apartment. "How are you?" He asks, turning to catch Jake's reflection. They did, after all, just buy the equivalent, some would say, of wedding rings. Robert isn't quite sure how he feels, truth told.

Jake smiles out the window, then glances back at Robert. "I'm happy." It's true enough, and why bother going into detail about the other things? Robert knows about them already. He can feel them trying to change his mood, but for now at least, he's happy. "Though I still say you could have bought something a little less expensive."

"I could have, but this is the gift that keeps on giving," Robert notes. "I think of it as an investment." He nudges up his glasses and watches Jake's face, a small smile playing over his own.

Laughing under his breath, Jake glances out the window again. "It's not like I would have left for someone willing to spend more money on me."

"That's good to know." Robert wants a cigarette. "And it's not as if I'm buying you."

"I'm just teasing, you know." One hand creeps over to take Robert's.

Robert smiles, turning to face Jake more fully. "I think I might've just realized that this is a pretty fucking big deal."

"Only just now?" Rolling his eyes, Jake shifts on the seat until he's pressed up against Robert's side. "I kind of noticed that a little while ago, myself."

"Oh, I'm not totally mentally impaired, I mean, I realized. It's just..." Robert gestures to the bag that sits on the car seat with them. "It's hard to ignore now."

"That is a good point."

Squeezing Jake's hand, Robert nods. "This would be easier if I could smoke." He sends Jake a slant-eyed glance.

"You can smoke when we get home," he points out, arching one eyebrow. "Outside the apartment."

This earns a deep sigh. "Anyone would wonder who gives the orders in this relationship." Robert turns to look out the window, mostly to hide his smile from Jake.

"All I ask," Jake gripes, teasing, "is that you don't smoke. Is that too much to ask? I cook, I clean, I suck you off..."

"All such inconveniences," Robert replies. "Poor Jake." Turning back, he's got a straight face, but dancing eyes.

He rolls his eyes, then looks away and grins. "You take advantage of me."

"I do, this is true. I exploit you."

"And - and - you get off on exploiting me."

"Again, a truth I cannot deny," Robert notes, letting go of Jake's hand to trail his fingers over the palm.

Turning his head, Jake curls closer to Robert, close enough to kiss his neck. "You're lucky I enjoy it."

"I am." And gently, Robert touches Jake's cheek to tilt it up for a kiss.

Jake parts his lips for Robert, hiding his mewl in the kiss. I want this. It terrifies me, but I want it.

As the car comes to a stop, Robert takes the bag and steps out, waiting for Jake before walking into the building, not touching, though he wants to. Not touching, in fact, until he opens the door to the apartment. "I'm having a smoke." He hands Jake the bag. "I'll be right in."

It's hard not to lean in and kiss Robert, but Jake is good and just slips into the - their - apartment. Once he's there, alone and with the bag, he doesn't quite know what to do; after a moment of waffling, he shrugs, sets down the bag, and slips down to his knees.

It's a quick smoke and if it weren't for the nicotine addiction, Robert would've skipped it entirely. But. As it is, he slips back into the apartment, stopping short when he sees Jake kneeling. Slowly, he walks over and cards through Jake's hair. "We should talk. About rules and things."

Jake nods, tilting his head so that he can kiss Robert's palm.

It's easiest to pull a chair up to where Jake kneels, so that's what Robert does, sitting and tilting Jake's face up to face his. "Even if you were that," he gestures to the collar. "24/7, that doesn't mean you're my boy 24/7. Does that make sense?"

Another nod, and Jake chuckles. "I wouldn't... not only would I not want it, I don't think I could."

"Good. Frankly, that would get old fast." Robert smiles. "All you have to do is ask for the collar to come off, as well. I'd like reasons, of course, but you're not obligated to supply them."

"I think I'll want to keep it on? I mean... you know, I'm doing this because I want to. But I will let you know if I want to take it off for a while."

"Good. So while you wear my collar, you will follow the rules we've agreed on. When you're wearing my collar, you will not be with someone else without my permission, and will not, of course, be marked by someone else. Make sense?" Robert asks, eyes intent.

"Mmm. Makes perfect sense, sir," Jake agrees, leaning his chin on Robert's knee.

"Anything else?"

"I don't want you with anyone else either, without asking me." He tilts his head to look at Robert, eyes slightly narrowed.

This gets Robert blinking, but he doesn't look away. "Alright," he says, the smallest of smiles playing at the corner of his mouth. "Shall we do this? We are both of course able to come to the other to discuss changing or modifying the rules at any time."

"Well, obviously. What are we going to do, get someone to write it into law?" Jake's teasing, and he kisses Robert's knee. "Let's do it."

"Mouthy." With a smile and admirably steady hands, Robert reaches for the bag and pulls out the box, opening it and looking down at the platinum link collar with its very small lock. He does this for a long time before he picks it up, feeling the weight in his hand as he holds it out for Jake to see again.

"Platinum," Jake mutters affectionately. "I said silver was fine, but oh no, you're the big movie star, your secret kinky boyfriend can't have anything less than platinum..."

"Exactly. When you're closeted, go for the very best." Robert is smiling as he undoes the lock and holds it open. "Last chance...."

Taking a deep breath - but still smiling - Jake closes his eyes and leans forward until the cold metal is pressed against his neck.

And with that, Robert closes the chain and fastens the lock before trailing his fingers along the metal, feeling the warm skin underneath. Funny, for all his lack of surety, now that this is done, he's remarkably calm.

Jake hums softly, keeping his eyes closed. "Thank you, sir."

Gently holding Jake's jaw, Robert leans down to kiss his hair, lingering there for a long moment. There is no need, he realizes, to share this news, though he will. There is no need but for Jake and this moment. So he lets it stretch and grow. And as he does, he finds himself smiling.

After a long pause, Jake tilts his head, mutely asking for a kiss which Robert gives him easily, still holding his face.

"What say I order in tonight? I'll even spurge on sparkling water," he adds, grinning.

"You're just throwing money out the window today, aren't you?" Somewhere along the way, probably about the same time Robert stopped eating meat with every meal, Jake stopped with his gay little drinks. He finds he doesn't mind all that much.

Slowly, Robert stands and extends his hand. He's sure there's some kind of etiquette for this. They should scene, or something. They should send out announcements, they should start a phone tree. He doesn't want any of that. What he finds himself wanting, surprisingly enough, is just to hold Jake for a while as the weight of what they've done sinks in. It's not an oppressive weight, but one he wants to give its just attention. As he feels Jake's hand in his, he pulls, and when his boy is on his feet, Robert steps forward and puts one arm around his waist, the other hand cupping the back of his neck. And he holds Jake.

Robert's arms around him settle a part of him he didn't know was unsettled - he takes a deep breath and leans his cheek on Robert's shoulder, both arms sliding easily around his lover's waist.

Occasionally when Robert closes his eyes, he feel unanchored to the world. It's usually somewhat disconcerting. Not this time. This time, there's a sweetness to it, because he's got Jake, who smells of what Robert's come to define as home: musk, perhaps a touch of cinnamon and something more tangy that Robert can't name. So when it starts to feel like he's floating, he reminds himself he's not floating alone.