Date: Tue, 16 Oct 2001 07:47:21 -0400
From: Writer Boy <writerboy69@hotmail.com>
Subject: jc's hitchhiker - part 5

Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:

1) If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or
you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You
shouldn't be here.

2) I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no
way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or
anything else.  This is a work of pure fiction.

Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I've
been happy to hear from everyone who wrote to ask questions or say how much
they liked this so far.  This is my first attempt at this sort of writing,
so the feedback is appreciated.

And now, back to our story in progress.

JC's Hitchhiker - Part 5

"Josh?" I said, jumping up from the table. "Josh, wait!"

I followed him toward the guest bedroom, but he slammed the door in my
face.  Behind it, I could hear him slamming the closet doors open, and I
realized he must be packing his bag back up.

"Josh, please open the door," I said, leaning my head on it. "Joshua,
please, let me explain."

"Why?" he demanded, jerking the door open.

I jumped back. His face was flushed, and his cheeks were wet below his
watering eyes.  He was trying very hard not to cry in front of me, and my
own heart hurt to see him like that.

"Why?" Josh demanded again, stepping toward me. "What else are you going to
say? I love you! I trusted you! I came here for you, because I thought you
were what I needed, and you don't want to be with me!"

"Josh, I didn't say that," I began.

"Don't play word games with me!" he snapped, turning away. I put my hand on
his shoulder, and he jerked away. "Don't fucking touch me, Jack! Just
don't."

The icy tone in his voice stopped me cold. He turned back to me, his jaw
locked, and one of the tears brimming over in his blazing blue eyes rolled
down his cheek.  He didn't even seem to realize he was crying.

"What else is there to say, Jack?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "I
asked you a yes or no question, and your answer was no. What, was this all
some kind of game to you? A fun weekend for you? What else are you going to
say?"

I walked away from him, considering whether to say anything at all. It
seemed so easy to just give up, right there.

"I was going to say I love you," I said quietly.

"Don't lie to me," he whispered.

"If you're not going to let me finish, I'm not going to talk at all,
Joshua," I said, turning back around. "If you're not going to let me speak,
I'll let you walk out that door right now. I'll watch you go down the
sidewalk, I'll even call you a fucking cab to the airport, and it will rip
my heart out, because I love you."

"But." he began, stepping toward me.

"No buts," I said. "I love you more than anyone I've ever loved in my life,
and if you want to leave right now, if you really do, I'll let you, but I
won't lose you if I can help it, and if I move in with you, I'll lose you,
or I'll lose myself, and neither one of those is a chance I'm willing to
take."

He stepped toward me, the anger visibly draining out of him. Tears still
quivered in his eyes, threatening to burst forth, and I felt them in mine
as well.

"Jack, I don't understand," he said. "If you love me, why don't you want to
be with me?"

"Josh, I do want to be with you," I said, holding out my hands toward him.
He folded into my embrace, wrapping me in one of his own. We stood still,
just holding each other. "I can't move in with you, Josh."

Slowly I walked him into the guestroom, and we sat on the bed. I took his
hand and held it tightly in both of mine. I looked at him, but he wouldn't
look at me.

"Josh, the thing I love most about you is that you always face life head
on," I began.  "You attack everything with both barrels. I can hear it in
your voice when you sing, and I can see it in the way you live. You throw
yourself into your music and give it everything you have, and you do the
same with everything around you. Just look around here.  Instead of just
making dinner, you spend an entire day transforming my apartment into a
shrine to romance. Look at why you're here. As soon as you realized you
were gay, you jumped on a plane and came to find me, because you give
everything you have to whatever you're focused on. And because you love me,
you've thrown yourself fully into that, too."

"And what's wrong with that?" he asked anxiously. "What's wrong with
knowing what I want, or what I need, and going after it?"

"Nothing," I said, giving his hand a squeeze. "Like I said, it's one of the
reasons why I love you. But Josh, have you thought about this?

He paused for a second before answering.

"Yes," he answered. "I've thought about it all weekend. When I came here I
wanted to be with you, and now that I have been, I know I love you, and you
love me, and I want us to be together."

"But have you thought about anything else?" I asked. "Have you thought
about what it would mean to have me move in with you? Have you told your
family that you're gay?  Or the rest of the guys? Have you told anyone?
Because once I move in with you, it's going to become fairly obvious."

"Well, no," he answered, finally looking at me. "But it doesn't matter."

"In a perfect world, no, it doesn't," I agreed. "But it does matter, Josh.
And what about your career? Are you going to bring me as your date to
awards shows? Out in public? Are you going to tell the world you're gay,
and you don't care?"

"Do you want me to do that?" he asked.

"I want you to do whatever's best for you," I answered. "I just want you to
be aware of the things that could come up. And what about us, Josh? We've
been together for four days. Five if you count when we met. Do you want to
move in with someone you've only known for five days?"

"Yes, if it's you," he said, but I could tell I was getting through to him.

"And Josh, what about me?" I asked. "What would I do if I moved in with
you?  Quit my job? Leave my friends here? Let's be realistic, Josh. It's
not like I could suddenly join the band, and be a backup singer or
something. Even if you found some job for me, like personal assistant or
something, I don't want you to support me like that.  I'm an independent
person, Josh."

"I guess I understand," he said, hugging me. "But what do we do now?"

"First we dry up our tears," I said, running my finger up his cheek. He
grabbed my hand and pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling against it
possessively. "Then I think we should go finish breakfast before it gets
cold."

"I think that's a good idea," he said, standing. He didn't let go of my
hand. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked.

"For overreacting," he said. "For freaking out and not even listening to
you."

"Don't apologize for being who you are, Josh," I said, hugging him. "You're
one of the bravest people I know, Josh. You flew all the way out here
because you believed in your heart. Don't apologize for listening to it."

"I love you, Jack," he said, pressing hard against me.

"I love you, too," I answered.

Hand in hand, we returned to the breakfast table and finished our
coffee. As we sipped, we sat in silence, still holding onto each other,
keeping that connection and warmth.

"So what should we do?" Josh asked finally.

"Same thing I thought the other night," I answered. "I think we should take
it slow."

He nodded.

"Well, maybe we should start by having you come visit me," he suggested.

"I think I'd like that," I said, smiling.

"When?" he asked, smiling back.

"Well, if you're willing to wait, school finishes up in two weeks," I
answered. "I could fly out then, and stay a week or two. Maybe even a
little longer, if you want. I'm off for the whole summer."

"That'd be great," he said, grinning now. His eyes lit up.

"We'll figure out the details between now and then," I said, standing. "For
now, I think we should go do the dishes."

"You wash, I'll dry," he said, following me into the kitchen.

We did the dishes, and then put them away. After that, we had a quick, hot
kissing session in the kitchen, which moved to the couch in the living
room. Eyeing the clock on the VCR as Josh's tongue casually reached for my
tonsils, I realized we were running out of time, and pulled his head up.

"Come on," I said. "We've got to get showered and cleaned up if I'm going
to get you to the airport on time."

"I'd rather just stay here," he sighed.

"Yeah, and I'd rather that you did, too, but you already told me you have
to be back by tomorrow to start working in the studio," I said. "The way to
make your friends like me isn't to have me hold up their next album, even
indirectly."

"Maybe we should save water," he said playfully. "You know, by showering
together."

"Let's go," I said, pulling him off the couch.

"You know," he said, waiting patiently in the bathroom door while I turned
on the shower, "I'm pretty sure my friends are going to like you, just
because I do."

"I hope they do," I said, stepping into the shower and holding the curtain
open for him.  "Because I intend to be with you for a good long while."

"Me, too," he said.

The shower can definitely be a fun place when you're not in there alone.
Actually, it can be a fun place when you're alone, too, but that's a
totally different story.  Josh was suddenly feeling very playfully,
snapping my bare ass with the wet washcloth (why do guys in a shower area
always, always feel the need to do that?) and squirting shower gel at me.

"It's all fun and games until someone washes an eye," I said, playfully
flicking water at him. "Now how about we do some actual washing, rather
than just running up the water bill."

"OK," he said, lathering up the washcloth. "Who first?"

"How about you?" I said, taking it from him.

I know I've said it before, but Josh has a beautiful body. People never
really think of dancers as athletes, but he was in exquisite shape, and it
was a truly sensual pleasure to run the washcloth over his chest and
stomach, under his arms, down his legs, and across his back. I lingered a
little on his ass, feeling him jump a little, and took special care to make
sure that his cock and balls got a good washing. He was throbbing and hard,
again, when I was done, but I ignored it for the time being, instead
finishing him off with a shampoo, like the one I'd given him the other
night.

"My turn," I said, holding out the washcloth.

You don't really think about it when you're washing yourself, but being
bathed by someone can be a fairly intense experience. Josh took the same
care with me as I'd taken with him, scrubbing the washcloth over me, but
not forcefully. Like I had, he made sure I was good and clean, working the
washcloth through every nook and cranny, stopping a few times to add more
shower gel. He finished up by washing my hair, as well, and while I was
rinsing my head under the spray, with him standing behind me rubbing my
shoulders, I remembered that he was still hard.

"Josh?" I asked, careful not to get water in my mouth.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"I want you to fuck me again, Josh, right now," I said. "I want to feel you
again before you leave."

"Are you sure?" he asked. I could tell from his voice that he was excited
by the idea. "I mean, we don't have anything in here."

"Just use the soap, Josh," I said, handing him the bottle.

I braced myself against the shower wall with my arms as I squat a little,
and then I felt his head pressing against me.

"Do it, Josh," I encouraged.

"Yeah," he sighed, pushing in.

I felt him slide all the way in, and my groan of pleasure accompanied his
sighs as the water beat down on us. He started to move, slowly, and I
reached around and grabbed the back of his head, turning mine and pulling
his mouth toward me.

"Harder, Josh, do it hard," I panted. He began to speed up, but still not
enough. I wanted to remember this when he was gone. "Harder! Fuck me, Josh,
fuck me hard!"

Josh was definitely a verbal lover, spurred on by my encouragement. I'm not
usually a talker, but he seemed to enjoy it, so I tried to keep it up.

"That's it, Josh, that's it," I groaned, feeling him pounding now. "Harder!
Make me remember you, Josh."

"Yeah!" he grunted, slamming into me.

Thank God there was a mat in the shower, because we needed the traction. I
felt Josh's mouth on the top of my neck, and on the side, first his mouth,
and then a little nip with his teeth.

"That's it, Josh, just like that," I moaned, acutely aware of sounding like
a bad porno movie.

I had both my hands pressed against the shower wall, holding myself up, and
bracing me for the slam of Josh's hips meeting mine on every thrust. He had
one hand on my shoulder, the fingers digging almost painfully into the
muscle, and I felt the other one slide around to my cock, which he
squeezed, and then began to jerk in time to his thrusts.  Eventually I blew
my load all over his hand, and I felt him jerking as he finally let go in
my ass. He collapsed onto my back, sliding out of me, as I kept my arms
braced, holding us both up.

"Oh, God," he panted.

"I love you, Josh," I said, feeling his cheek on my shoulder.

"I love you, too, Jack," he answered.

I turned around and kissed him, blissfully aware and proud of the flushed,
satisfied look on his face.

"You're amazing," he said, stroking the side of my face.

"So are you," I answered.

The water began to turn cold, so we finally got out of the shower and
toweled each other off. We split up, going to our separate bedrooms to get
dressed, and when I was done I turned around to find him in mine.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked, checking the clock. We still had some time,
but I didn't think I'd be able to get it up again. Jesus, I might not have
been able to for days, actually.

"I'm all packed, but I still don't want to leave," he said, enfolding me in
his strong arms.

"It'll be ok," I said. "No getting weepy, now. It's only for two weeks, and
then I'll come out to see you."

"I know," he said, his head resting on my shoulder. "I can't wait."

"Me either," I said, just holding onto him. "Are you sure you packed
everything?  Checked the bathroom and everything?"

"Yeah, I guess," he answered.

"And you have your ticket?" I asked, trying to cover up what I was feeling
with small talk.

"Yeah, I have my ticket," he said. "It's ok to say goodbye, you know."

"I never said it wasn't," I said.

"I know, but I can tell what you're doing, and I just wanted you to know
it's ok," Josh said, looking at me. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you, too, Josh," I said, hugging him again.

"You know, if we don't stop hugging, we're not going to make it out of the
house, much less to the airport," he said. He kissed me once, quickly, and
then walked back to his room for his bag.

I sighed, watching him leave the room, and wished this didn't hurt so much.
How was it possible that I could completely love someone that I'd only
known for five days? How was it possible that someone so intelligent, yet
also so na‹ve, had found his way into the deepest parts of my heart? I
grabbed my car keys, and met him in the living room.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "Just one last thing."

He pulled me toward him and planted his mouth over mine. We kissed deeply,
urgently, hands sliding over each other's backs, hair getting messed up,
eyes closed, and then pulled away.

"There," he said, smiling. "I guess we can go."

"I guess so," I said.

We held hands most of the way to the airport, except when I had to use both
for driving.  Luckily I drive an automatic, so we managed to stay connected
for most of the ride.  Every time I looked over at him, I found him looking
over at me, as if trying to memorize every detail of my face, my hair, my
eyes, my body, before he got back on the plane and left me. I assumed that
was what he was doing, because that's what I was doing.

I was trying to soak up the way a little crease appeared between his
eyebrows when he was thinking about something, or the way his eyes twinkled
and crinkled up at the corners when he laughed. I was trying to picture the
way his mouth twisted uncertainly when he was trying to find the right way
to say something, or the way his whole face smoothed out when he said he
loved me. I was trying to commit it all quickly to my head, to hold it in
reserve for when he was gone. I was trying to keep the sound of his voice,
soft and husky, or loud and strong, playing endlessly somewhere in my head.
My hands wanted to remember the feel of his skin, smooth and warm, but firm
beneath, or the silken mop of his hair.

I was trying to remember all of this so that when he left I wouldn't think
it was all some kind of dream, some sort of fantasy, because I still didn't
quite believe it was real.

Of course, I'd always have a couple large boxes of burned candle stumps to
remind me, and a chair with a huge wine stain.

We parked the car, and got through airport security. If you fly first
class, they have a nice, VIP lounge where you get to wait to board the
plane. No one recognized Josh on the way in, and we were away from the
general public in the lounge, so I figured we would get him on the plane
without someone screaming, "Oh my God! It's JC!" We sat on a couch by the
window, far away from the other first class passengers.

"I'm gonna miss you, kid," I said again.

"Fifteen days," he said, smiling at me. "Promise?"

"I promise," I answered.

Before he got on the plane, we hugged again, squeezing each other tight.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," I said.

As soon as he was down the boarding ramp, his gold and brown head out of
sight (he looked back three times to wave), I left the airport. I'm not
good at saying goodbye, and I don't stick around to see the plane taxi
away. I drove home from the airport in silence, not even listening to the
radio, and when I opened my apartment door I was suddenly struck by how
empty it felt. Five days ago, I was happy living alone. I was thinking of
how nice it was to come home to an empty apartment, to do whatever I wanted
with whomever I wanted to, or with no one at all. Now my apartment was
empty. I could still do whatever I wanted, but there was only one person I
wanted to do it with, and he was gone.

I noticed an envelope on the dining room table, and walked over. My name
was on the front, and I opened it, pulling out a letter from Josh.

"Dear Jack:

I know what you're doing. Right now, you're standing with this letter in
your hands, because you didn't even sit down to read it. You're looking at
it and thinking, 'When did he have time to write this, and how did he get
it onto the table without me seeing it on our way out?' Trade secrets my
friend, trade secrets.

Jack, before I came here this weekend I thought I knew myself, but that
seems to be a theme with me and you. Before we picked you up, I thought I
knew who I was, and then you opened up a whole new world for me, and showed
me a side of myself that I didn't even know was there. Now, when I thought
I knew myself again, I came to you, and you showed me that I had only
scratched the surface of who I am. You've taught me so much, and given so
much to me in the past few days, and I have nothing to give you in return
but my heart. You opened your house, your mind, and your heart, and you
made room for me there.

And it's a place where I want to stay.

I love you, Jack.

I know we've said that to each other for the past few days, over and over,
but I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I mean it with my entire soul. I
love you for who you are, for the way you look when you're reading
something and your mind is focused, and for the way you look in the light
of the candles around your bed. I love the way you speak your mind no
matter what, when it would be so much easier sometimes to not say
anything. I love the sound of your voice, I love the birthmark on the back
of your neck, and I love the way you look at me when you think I'm asleep.

I love you, and I thank God that I met you, and that you came into my life
and accepted me into yours.

And I'll be right here, waiting for you.

And I promise to call this time.

Joshua

PS: I also love the hickeys I left on your neck."

Sighing, I folded the letter back up, and carried it into the bedroom,
setting it down finally on the dresser top. I spent the rest of the evening
reading, and then sending some e-mails to colleagues for various
work-related things that could probably have waited until morning. When I
finally got tired enough to go to sleep, I read the letter again, and then
crawled into bed.

Inhaling deeply into my pillow, I realized the sheets and the bed smelled
faintly of Josh.

"Fifteen days," I whispered. "Fifteen days."

Somewhere I hoped that Josh was thinking the same thing.

***

That's it for this one. The next part's coming soon, I swear.