DISCLAIMER: You are about to read a story that is strictly FAN FICTION and in no way represents true accounts. I do not - nor do I wish to imply that - I know Jake Gyllenhaal, his private life or his sexual preferences. This is also true of all other celebrities represented in this story. This is a work of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you are not of legal age, or if this type of content might offend you, please stop reading now.
Jake Saved Me
I woke up in the sand, the icy cold water lapping at my bare feet. I opened my eyes, staring up at the bright, gray sky.
It had been a beautiful wedding. My sister looked amazing, in a simple, classic dress - the result of many hours of watching her try on every dress she could get her hands on. "It's your job", she had said, "That's the whole point of having a gay brother". Which, I suppose, is true.
It was a black tie event. We had surf and turf in a hotel by the sea. It was exactly how she had planned it since age 8.
And, of course, she had invited James. I hate James because I love James and he doesn't love me - when I found him inside someone else inside the bedroom we'd shared for the past 2 years that became abundantly clear.
He had cornered me just after the bouquet toss.
"Let's go down to the water and talk", he had said.
"But won't Christian get lonely?"
"It's Christiano."
"I know - I'm slowly trying to forget about him. I've only gotten rid of the O." Sarcasm is my only shield.
"He's got a shoot in the morning - he's going home to rest."
It wasn't a good idea going with him, and I knew that. Still, everything had been so pretty and great and smooth and wonderful that maybe I needed a little self-destruction. Or a lot. I grabbed my tux jacket and a bottle of Johnny Walker off the bar. It was going to be cold out there.
The sky hurt my eyes. What had I done? I remember drinking that bottle. I remember kissing him. I remember crying. I remember saying goodbye.
I was alone - on the beach, in my life, everywhere. Loneliness was all around me.
The water surged forward. The wave swirled around my body, meeting over my head. It swept up my sleeves, into my ears, into my hair. It took my breath away as it rolled back into the ocean.
I was alone.
The next wave came quickly, rolling over the top of my legs and onto my groin. It splashed against my cheeks, drops flying up and into my eyes, stinging them. I felt the empty whiskey bottle bump my arm as the ocean carried it away from the shore. I wanted to follow that bottle, to get taken away to someplace new, someplace that wasn't Los Angeles or my life.
I dug my fingers into the wet sand. I shivered. I didn't want to move, couldn't bear to. A salty tear slid from my eye and joined the salty sea. I waited for the next wave.
I was alone.
The frigid water roared up and over my chest. I opened my mouth to gasp and it filled with water. The sand beneath me started to slip away in the undercurrent. I started to slip away.
Someone grabbed me, pulling me up and out of the dark water, back into the gray day.
I fell hard onto new sand, coarse and dry. I hit it, but I kept falling. It felt like I slid under the sand. It was dark again.
"Come on, man." It sounded like an echo through a canyon, some stranger miles away and above me.
Hands pushed against my chest, pumping a rhythm, trying to teach my heart how to beat again. A hand slid under my neck, lifting my head out from under the sand. Light glowed red and powerful through my eyelids.
Lips covered mine. I felt breath flow back into me. My eyes fluttered open. I saw the dark wet hair, an unshaven jaw. He opened his eyes, smoky blue under long lashes. His eye caught mine. I think he smiled.
Then I vomited water. I think I actually vomited some into his mouth.
He flung back, standing straight up as I rolled onto my side and up onto all fours, totally losing it. My lungs and stomach pushed out everything - salt water and sand, whiskey, surf and turf. My insides twisted and burned, pushing with all their might to squeeze all of the last night and this morning out of me.
A hand started rubbing my back as I coughed and sputtered. It felt good.
"Get it all out. Cough it up." The voice sounded so sweet.
I leaned back, resting on my feet. My coughing stopped.
"I'm O.K.", I said.
"We need to get you to a hospital," my hero said. His voice was smooth, with no judgment of what had happened. "No, I'm fine. I'm O.K. No hospital". Had I just tried to kill myself?
"Well then we need to get you dry. Your lips are blue. I've got some towels in my truck."
"How far away?"
"Maybe a hundred yards." He sounded like he was smiling. Was that funny?
I couldn't really look him in the face. I think I was embarrassed.
"My legs are kind of numb."
"I'll help you."
He grabbed me under my arms and pulled me up, quick and strong. The world followed slowly up with my eyes.
"Whoa."
"Sorry."
He grabbed my arm and stretched it over his shoulders, holding my wrist. I grabbed his shoulder. It was cold and smooth, like rubber. It felt like dolphin skin.
"Are you a dolphin?" Did I just say that out loud? I guess being drunk on whiskey and death kind of lets things just slide out.
"No, it's my wetsuit." He definetly sounded like he was smiling now. He slid an arm around my waist and gently pulled me toward the SUV.
And suddenly we were there, behind the SUV, the tailgate open.
"Sit down," he said. I slid onto the tailgate. He threw a towel over my head. I just sat there. Was this a Snoopy beach towel? I couldn't move.
I heard a smirk. I felt his hands grab the towel and start drying my hair, my face. He dug his fingers into my ears, drying everything. I felt like a 5 year old.
"You want to take some clothes off?" His voice was starting to annoy me, so smooth and steady. How zen was this guy?
Before I could process any of what he had said, he started to unbutton my shirt. He fumbled with the tux buttons, trying hard to get his big fingers around them.
His breath changed. I felt awkward, all of a sudden, and I think he shared that feeling. "I got it," I said, reaching up to my collar and yanking both sides of my shirt. The buttons clanked down onto the tailgate and down into the sand.
"O.K." There was that smirk in his voice again.
I reached down and unbuttoned my pants, sliding them down under my ass and kicking them onto the sand. I sat there in my wet briefs, cold against the tailgate.
"Well, um, O.K." Was he being shy? So he was flappable. Good to know he's not a saint. Or a dolphin. He pulled the towel off my face and dropped it into my lap. I had almost died five minutes ago - like I cared if the world saw the outline of my dick through my briefs.
"Here's another towel." He flung it over my shoulders. I think it had big red tropical flowers on it. I looked like a Hawaiian Superman.
"I'm going to go get my board."
"Can you get my bowtie?" I knew my priorities. This was a rental.
"I'll look for it."
He ran off and I pulled the towel around me, drying my arms and chest. What had I done? What was I going to tell this guy? There was going to be a 'what happened' or a 'why did you do it'. I guess 'I'm a drunk and I passed out and almost drowned' sounds better than 'I think I wanted to die'. I mean, comparatively it sounds better.
I glanced out at the ocean, the sun breaking through the marine layer. I was awake now. I looked around the car - clean enough, a little sand, towels and a first aid kit. What a boy scout. It was a great car - an old, white Land Rover Defender.
My hero was running back to the car, a surfboard under one arm and my bowtie in the other hand. This was the first time I had looked at him, actually looked at him. Dark chocolate hair, light colored skin, big puppy dog eyes. Blue eyes. I remembered seeing those eyes when he was saving me. I remember those eyes from somewhere else.
He was tall, at least 6 ft, with broad shoulders and a nice build. He was cute.
Wait, I know this guy. Suddenly, I was embarrassed - where did I know him from? What was I going to say? Does he know my name? I laid back into the truck bed, covering myself with the towels. I was mortified. Who was this guy? I did the only thing I could do - I pretended to be asleep.
"Hey, I found your bow..." He stopped talking once he thought I was asleep. I could feel him looking at me - do I just play possum forever? I'm such a moron. He totally knows, he just saw me sitting up. Maybe he thinks I'm still drunk.
I felt the trunk bed sink as he sat on the tailgate. I slit my eyes open, peaking.
He reached back and pulled the zipper pull down, revealing his white back between the black neoprene. He pulled the suit off his shoulders and slid his arms out, pushing it down to his waist. He stood up and faced the ocean, drying his chest. His body was firm, with a dark patch of hair running from his thick pecks and down his wide torso. His stomach had more hair, all swept inward to a trail and down toward his groin. He was stocky but firm, and my mind started reeling with passion, my cock hardening instinctually under my towel. He raised his arm over his head and dried his hairy armpits, then swept the towel over his head and scrubbed his hair. He pulled the towel down off his face.
And it was Jake Gyllenhaal. Holy. Shit. I knew that I knew him - not that I knew KNEW him, but that I had seen him before. I loved him, thought he was smoking hot. I had dreamed about doing things to him that - wait, we had kissed. I mean, it was mouth to mouth and he thought he was saving me, but we had been lip to lip. My mouth would have dropped open if I hadn't been faking sleep. I was saved by Jake Gyllenhaal.
He turned back to the car and I slammed my eyes closed, trying to not die of embarrassment. But I couldn't help it - I was peeking. He grabbed another towel and wrapped it around his waist. He reached up under the towel with one hand and started to pull down the wetsuit, holding up the towel with his other hand. God, if you can hear me, I'm sorry about the whole suicide thing, but if you could please throw me a towel drop right now I would go to church everyday. I'd adopt an orphan.
The wetsuit slid down to his feet. The knot of the towel swagged off his waist. I could see where his stomach trail met his pubic hair, brown and curly. Now, God! Now!
He turned around and I silently cursed the Lord. He reached into the truck and grabbed a t-shirt, sliding it over his head and down his body, it clinging to his damp back. He pulled some madras shorts around and sit up on the tailgate, sliding the shorts over his feet. I could see the top of the crack of his ass, a smattering of dark hair resting there. It was everything I could do to keep from crawling over there and kissing that spot. He stood up and slid the shorts up, the towel falling away, giving me a longer glimpse at his ass crack.
He bent over and rummaged around on the ground, coming up with his wetsuit in one hand and my tux in another. God, he was totally going to throw me out. What do I say? How do I thank him for saving my life? Better to just keep pretending, right? I'm insane. An insane child.
He stared at me awhile - I could feel it. He was wringing the water out of the clothes, then tossed them into the car.
He closed the tailgate, then the back window. My eyes shot open. Uh-oh.
I heard the sand crunch as he walked around the SUV, swinging his surfboard onto the roof and securing it. What the hell was going on?
I heard the key in the door. It opened and he got inside. The truck roared to life, rumbling underneath me. The sun broke through the clouds and poured into the back of the bed. The radio came on, the Shins playing softly.
Jake put on the blinker and pulled out onto the road.
Holy shit.
Where was he taking me?