Date: Mon, 27 Mar 2000 14:20:07 -0800 (PST)
From: AngelGabe <carravaggio2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Jude and I - Part Two

Okay gang, you know the routine: This entire story is a work of fiction
(much to my dismay!) and is not intended to imply anything about the sexual
orientation of the real, in-the-flesh Jude Law. Yes, he's one hot stud, but
I don't know which team he plays for; I'm just wishing! Nor is it meant to
imply anything about Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, or Keanu Reeves, who also
turn up (at least in name) in this installment.

Also, if you shouldn't be reading this for whatever reason - legal, moral,
parental - then please don't. And if you have a problem with man2man sex,
then what the heck are you doing this deep into the Nifty Archive?

Feedback, both positive and negative (or, as I like to think of it,
constructive), is greatly appreciated; flames will be read, laughed at, and
discarded immediately. I can be reached at
carravaggio2000@yahoo.com. Please indicate the name of this story in the
subject line, as I will be filtering your messages into such a folder; any
email that comes to my in-box and is from someone I don't know is
automatically deleted. Thanks to those who have already emailed - it's
great knowing there are people reading my work!

**Jude and I**
**by AngelGabe"

Part Two

The next day was a bit contradictory - six o'clock seemed like it was never
going to arrive, but on the other hand it seemed like I didn't have enough
time to get everything done. First off, of course, was getting the place in
order. My apartment was small - the living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and
a bedroom - but being a neat freak, it took me almost the whole morning to
get everything perfect.

After I made myself a sandwich for lunch, I went out for a haircut. My hair
has always been a source of much difficulty - I can let it grow out, but at
a certain point it gets unruly unless I bullet-proof it with high level
hairspray, which I absolutely refuse to do. For a while I just kept it
buzzed short for convenience sake, but an early lover told me he liked
being able to run his hands through my hair; so, being the lust-filled
teenager that I was, I let it grow out somewhat. That Saturday, it was
starting to reach the unruly point, so I needed to go to the chop-shop;
beauty salons aren't for me: pay too much for a do that takes way too long
to maintain. I've been accused of being rather Spartan about my looks, but
I prefer to think of it as practical.

Deciding to indulge in a bit of vanity, I ran by the mall to get a few new
items for my wardrobe from Rue 21. That's another thing friends often bitch
about: my adamant refusal to buy Abercrombie & Fitch, Tommy Hilfiger, or
any of the other overpriced clothing lines. Oh sure, I went into A&F to
cruise the clerks, but never to purchase. That financial frugality I'd
gotten from my father made me shake my head in amazement whenever friends
would drop two hundred dollars on only four articles of clothing without
thinking twice about it. No, I preferred the inexpensive quality of Rue 21,
where the latest trends can be indulged in and nothing's over fifteen
bucks. I bought a new pair of khakis and a form-hugging white tee: since
putting down slightly-more-than-temporary stakes in LA, I had decided to
get the body I'd always wanted (and always lusted after); hundreds of hours
in the gym had paid off, and I boasted a swimmer's musculature and the
subtle definition of a six-pack.

By the time I arrived back at the ranch, it was three o'clock. The only
thing left would be my typical pre-date ablutions: shit-shave-shower, or
S-cubed, as my brother liked to refer to it. I decided I had time for a
quick nap, and headed for the bedroom. I collapsed onto the bed, somewhat
exhausted from the day's whirlwind of activity, and was soon napping
peacefully.



The alarm clock did its job and woke me up at 4:30. I went across the hall
into the bathroom. I turned on the shower to let it warm up, took care of
the first part of S-cubed, shaved the stubble on my cheeks, and then
crawled into the shower. If there's one thing that I greatly enjoy, it's a
nice long hot shower. I spent twenty minutes luxuriating in the spray of
water, taking a little extra time than usual in shampooing and
soaping. When the water started to become lukewarm, I shut off the shower,
toweled off, and crossed back to my room to dress.

Fully dressed, hair combed, cologne (or foofoo juice, as my brother called
it) on, I checked myself out in the full mirror on the back of my door. I
was pleased with what I saw: six feet tall, weighing in at 140 pounds,
bright blue eyes, well-cut black hair. "Damn, you're sexy," I told me
reflection, then laughed at my vanity.

I went out to the living room, closing the curtains and turning on the
halogen floor lamps. I glanced at the clock: quarter to six. I went into
the kitchen, pulled a Frescheta frozen pizza out of the freezer and into
the oven, then back into the living room. The anal retention kicked in and
I eyed every corner of the room, making sure I hadn't forgotten anything or
missed any spot when I was cleaning. Another glance at the clock: ten to
six. I knew the last ten minutes were going to drag out for an eternity, so
I sat down in my air-chair to wait.

When there was a knock at the door, I almost jumped three feet off the
chair. I gave myself a ten-count - never appear to eager, I always say -
then got up and opened the door.

On the threshold was Jude, looking absolutely gorgeous, which didn't take
much. His baby-blue eyes were dancing and he flashed that smile that made
me melt.

"Hey, Jude," I said, then immediately realized the unintentional pun; I
began to blush, while Jude simply laughed softly.

"Hey, Russell," he said back.

"Come in, come in," I said, stepping out of the way and waving him
in. "There's a pizza in the oven, should be done in a ten minutes."

"Sounds great," he said, smiling.

"Any particular movie you want to watch?" I asked, heading over to my vast
movie collection.

"Let me see what you have," he replied, and came over to join me. He
scanned the titles, and laughed when he came to a few. "Hmmm..."Midnight in
the Garden of Good and Evil," "Gattaca," "The Talented Mr. Ripley,"
"eXistenZ," "Wilde"...I wonder why you keep these films grouped together?"

"I told you, I'm an admirer of your work," I said, laughing along with
him. "You know, you play straight very well - I was absolutely *convinced*
you didn't play for the team when I saw you in "Ripley." Of course, you
were equally convincing as gay in "Wilde"."

"My dear boy, I *am* an actor," he said in a plummy way, sounding a bit
like Olivier.

"Yeah, yeah. So...Matt Damon..." I trailed off. He laughed.

"Yes, he's on the team, but that's the extent of the truth of the
speculation. For starters, Matt's not a catcher but a pitcher. Also, he and
Ben have never been an item, aside from the usual teenage exploration,
through which Matt discovered he played for our team and Ben plays for the
visitors. But they are definitely close friends."

"Did you and Matt ever..." Again I trailed off. This time, only a smile.

"No, I didn't find out the extent of Mr. Ripley's talents. He sticks it to
Keanu."

"Keanu?" I asked, trying to picture that dumb jock and Damon together.

"Yeah, I know. Matt told me Keanu isn't much in the conversation
department, but he knows how to take it up the ass." He paused, grinned
devilishly, then whispered conspiratorially, "And from the look on Keanu's
face, Matt certainly is the talented Mr. Ripley."

My face must have registered shock, as Jude laughed before saying, "I
caught them in delecto flagrante. Late one evening at the hotel, I was
sitting out on my balcony smoking a fag when I saw Damon pull up. He looked
around furtively, making sure no one was around, then opened the passenger
door, and out hopped Keanu. I about swallowed the cig. They disappeared
into the hotel, and pretty soon I heard them coming into Matt's room, which
was next door to mine. Soon enough, I heard them going at it, so I decided
to have a look. Matt and I shared a bathroom, and he had forgotten to lock
the door into his room. I opened it quietly and peered in.

"Keanu was on his back on the bed, his head hanging off the side, legs up
against his chest. Matt was grunting as he shoved his hard cock into
Keanu's ass. Keanu started moaning in pleasure, and before long Matt had
his whole dick buried, his balls resting against Keanu's asscheeks, his
body laying on Keanu's legs which were now pressed hard against his upper
body. Matt lifted Keanu's head and started kissing him.

"After a few minutes of heavy tongue action, Matt began to pull out of
Keanu's ass; from the look on Keanu's face, it was exquisitely slow and
pleasurable. When just the head remained inside, Matt paused ever so
briefly then lunged back inside in one quick hard thrust, causing Keanu to
cry out in pleasure. Another pause from Matt, then he repeated the action,
slowly pulling out and quickly thrusting back in.

"Soon enough, Matt stopped the slow torture and started to get into it. He
pumped away at Keanu's ass with a steady rhythm, Keanu shaking his head
from side to side and babbling incoherently. Matt kept riding him for quite
a few minutes, his pace increasing slowly. He built up to a hammering pace,
and he grabbed Keanu's calves and spread his legs far apart, pounding Keanu
for all he was worth. Sweat was dripping off of his body and onto Keanu,
who by now was pushing his ass back against Matt's cock.

"After probably fifteen, twenty minutes of this, Matt cried out, 'Oh fuck,
Keanu...ungh...I'm gonna...ungh...cum!!!!' and buried his cock to the hilt
in Keanu's ass. Keanu screamed with pleasure when the first wave hit the
walls of his ass, which was enough to set him off: his hard throbbing cock
shot a huge wad up into his face then started jerking about spraying cum
everywhere like an out-of-control fire hose. Finally, both he and Matt were
spent, and Matt simply collapsed on top of Keanu, leaving his cock buried
in Keanu's ass. They started kissing again, and I quietly shut the door and
returned to my room, and shortly thereafter took matters into my own
hands."

There was a long pause when Jude got done with his story. My cock had
sprung to life when he began to tell it, and was now leaking a bit of
precum into my boxers. Jude glanced down at my crotch, gave it a squeeze,
leaned over and huskily whispered into my ear, "I certainly hope the pizza
isn't burning."

"Oh shit!" I hollered, snapping out of my lust-filled reverie. I ran into
the kitchen, my hard member softening, while Jude stood in the living room
laughing uproariously. "You're gonna pay for that, asshole!" I shouted from
the kitchen. Fortunately, the pizza wasn't burnt, but I had gotten there
just in time: the cheese was a golden brown, just the way I like it. I shut
off the oven and pulled the pizza out. Jude sauntered into the kitchen,
standing in the doorway.

"Did you ever let Matt know that you had watched him nail Keanu?" I asked
as I busied myself with slicing up the pizza.

"Oh yeah. The next day on the set, Matt was visibly exhausted and kept
flubbing up. After one take that Matt had blown, Anthony Minghella,
exasperated, asked, 'Jesus God, Matt, didn't you sleep at *all* last
night?'"

"'I doubt it, Anthony,'" I piped up. "'Matt was busy seeing what was down
the rabbit's hole.' Anthony looked confused; I could tell he hadn't seen
"The Matrix". Matt, on the other hand, had caught the reference, and turned
maroon-red in embarrassment."

"You *are* an asshole," I told him, getting a couple of Budweisers out of
the fridge.

"Well, the critics *have* noted that I do an excellent job of playing
beautifully cruel young men," he smiled. I laughed at that, and we went
back into the living room, I carrying the pizzas and Jude the beer.

"Did you decide on a movie?" I asked him.

"Oh yeah," he said, and went over to my movies. He grabbed "Billy's
Hollywood Screen Kiss" and held it up. "This okay?"

"Definitely. That's a great movie."

"And Brad Rowe doesn't hurt anything either," he replied, and we both
laughed.

He put in the movie and we settled in to eat. After the pizza and beer was
gone, Jude slid closer on the couch and offered me his arms. I happily
settled into them, leaning back against his chest.

Too soon, the movie had ended. As the credits rolled, I sighed happily.

"Time for me to go, sexy," Jude said quietly, kissing me on the head.

"Yeah I know."

"Do you want me to stay?"

I considered his offer.

"Not unless you want to," I replied truthfully. "I don't want to rush you."

Jude kissed me on the head again. "Thank you for that," he murmured. "How
bout we just call it a night? This is only our first official date, after
all."

"That's fine with me," I said, and I was a bit surprised that I meant it. I
realized then that I really was falling in love with him: I wasn't
disappointed that he still wanted to wait for sex, and I was more than
willing to wait as well. I looked up into his baby blues, and said, "But
next time, if you tell me another story like the one you told earlier, I
will let the fucking pizza burn and take you right there on the floor."

He laughed heartily at this, and kissed me on the lips. It was a nothing
more than a light peck, but thanks to the love I was feeling for him, it
was even better than the mind-spinning kiss he'd given me last night.

I stood up and stretched, then helped Jude to his feet and showed him to
the door.

"Thanks for this, Russell. You want to do something tomorrow?" he asked,
standing in the doorway.

"Nope," I said. When he looked shocked, I hastened to explain, "Sunday is
Russell Day - I don't do a damn thing expect sit around the apartment and
veg by myself."

"I can understand that," he said, and I could tell he meant it. "I'll see
you on the set on Monday, then." He gave me another kiss. "Good night."

"Night," I said, and closed the door.


To be continued ...