Precipice
“Here, I grabbed your mail too.” Jared shoved an envelope into Colin's hand.
Colin looked down at it, then at the three Jared was holding. “How is it you always get so much mail?”
“People love me.” Jared took a drink from the bottle of water he was carrying around, looking down at his own envelopes. “And I don't even have to pay them.”
Colin sighed and fanned himself with his single lonely envelope. In some ways Phu Kae Garden was hotter than the desert had been. At least in the desert there was no humidity. Under the leaves and vines of their fake jungle it was like a greenhouse—add elephants and horses and hundreds of sweaty, improperly bathed human beings, and the smell wasn't very pleasant either. There was only one thing that was keeping Colin's spirits up right now.
“Two more days,” he said with another sigh. “Then we're out of here and off to…” he looked at Jared with a grin. “Jolly old London!”
Jared, who was trying to balance his water and open a letter at the same time, looked up at him brightly. “London!”
“London,” Colin pressed his letter to his heart and lifted his chin. “Land of gentle pubs and running water. A place where a man can sleep in a clean, comfortable bed and order room service. And showers! The showers of legend!”
“My mother told me stories as a child, around our simple hearth,” Jared said, clasping his own letters to his chest. “Do you think it's true, Colin? The stories of old? Shopping malls and food that doesn't make you puke an hour after you eat it?”
Rosario, who was sitting under their little awning studying her script looked up and rolled her eyes.
“Jared,” Colin pressed his hand to Jared's forehead, the other on his shoulder. “I tell you, we will see this land, and it will be all we've dreamed of and more. We will find the outer ocean and sail to it with haste!”
“I don't know about you guys, but I'm taking a plane.” Rosario looked back down at her script. “Cut the theatrics.”
“We're actors,” Jared walked past her and swatted her with one of his envelopes.
Colin wiped his hand off on the front of his costume, the one he had touched Jared's forehead with. “I got your scum on me.”
“Save it, it'll be worth money someday.” Jared flopped down in a chair, flipping through his envelopes again. Colin sat down across from him, next to Rosario. He rubbed at his nose and winced a little. It still hurt sometimes, and every once in a while he would get a nasally hum in it when he was breathing too hard.
It had been nearly three weeks since the night Jared had bashed him in the face. A return to the hospital had found his nose fractured but not broken. Oliver had nearly lost his mind when he saw Colin right after the incident, but shooting long-rage shots and clever use of helmet and makeup—and eventually editing—held them over until the swelling and redness had faded enough to cover it. It was still a little pink, but back to its normal size. The only pain that still lingered was the blow to his pride, since everyone thought he had lost a fight to Jared and liked to make jokes about it.
“Look,” Jared was peering at one of the envelopes. “I got a letter from Eamon.”
Colin frowned. “You got a letter from Eamon?” He looked down at his and read the return address for the first time. “Oh, this is from me Mam.”
“Me Mam,” Jared mocked quietly. “God, you're so Irish.”
“You're so American,” Colin shot back. “What's up, dudes?”
“You're ignorant,” Jared started opening his letter. “Only people from California say that.”
Rosario got up from her chair. “I think I'm going to find a more quiet place.” She shot them both a dark look.
“Oh please,” Colin started opening his letter. “All you have to do is look at some monkeys. You don't even have lines.”
She swatted him across the head with her script as she went. Jared had his water bottle hanging from his mouth as he opened his letter. They were both in costume, everything but their armor on. Jared had no sense of propriety, as he was sitting with his legs wide-open, heels on the bottom of his chair, with a short battle skirt on, no less.
“I can see your drawers,” Colin said, unfolding the letter.
Jared raised his eyebrows at him provocatively, the bottle still hanging from his mouth. He was unfolding his letter as well.
“Why do you have a letter from Eamon?” Colin asked. “What's he doing writing to you?”
“I oon no.” Jared said around the bottle. Then it fell out of his mouth, landing in his lap. Colin winced, despite the leather tunic over his skirt it just looking painful to have a nearly full bottle dropped in his crotch. “Oh my God.” Jared's mouth fell open, his eyes widening.
“What?” Colin got to his feet, suddenly worried. Surely if something was wrong though, Eamon would have written him.
“He sent me a picture of his cock!” Jared grabbed up his bottle and took a quick drink.
“What!” Colin rushed over, but was stopped by Jared spitting the water at him and then snickering.
“Fucking twat. He didn't send me a picture of his cock.”
Colin groaned and rolled his eyes. He went back to his chair and plopped down in it. “You got my letter wet!” He scowled, and tried to wipe it off with his hand, only succeeding in smearing the ink.
“I'm about ready to dump this bottle over my head,” Jared was looking at the letter, rubbing his hand over the side of his face. “God, I can't wait to get rid of this thing!” He scratched at the beard he had grown, then at his hair, which was disheveled and hanging in clumps over his shoulders. “And get these fucking extensions out!”
“You look like you have fleas, stop it.”
“I think I do have fleas.” He continued to scratch his head.
Colin could understand wanting to douse himself in water. There was a thick, sticky sweat on the back of his neck and in his armpits. His own extensions were gathered in a ponytail during breaks, but they were still hot and ponderous on his head. He knew he smelled, even if he had long since passed the point where he could smell it himself. Also, being on a horse all day had left his inner thighs feeling like they were scoured by sandpaper, and the sweat on them stung. If he had ever wanted to experience the life of Alexander the Great, he had learned plenty and wanted to know nothing more.
“Oh God,” Jared gave a soft gasp. “There's no picture, but God, is this ever a filthy letter.”
Colin was reading his own, one of his mother's usual missives telling him everything that was going on back home. “Uh huh. Not falling for it again.”
“Whatever, but damn. Your brother should have been a writer…mmm, God. Now that is descriptive.”
“Right.”
There was silence for a few minutes, the sounds of the production crew out in the trees drifting over. At least there was a breeze, ruffling the awning and feeling delightful on the back of Colin's neck.
Jared moaned again and Colin rolled his eyes.
“He wants to lick me…oh God, there?” Jared wiggled in his seat and took a drink of his water. “He says with a beautiful arse like mine…that's ass with an ‘r'…and an ‘e'…he wants to taste it and see if it's as sweet as the rest of me.”
“I am trying to read a letter from my sainted mother!” Colin flicked his paper. “Do you mind? What is he really saying?”
“That he wants to put my ankles back to the headboard and make me cry out to Saint Patrick.”
Colin shook his head and looked down at his letter again. Jared folded his up and stuck it back in the envelope, then sat forward and winged it at Colin. It landed in his lap.
“Why don't you see what it says for yourself?” Jared smirked and slumped back in his chair. “It's addressed to you, after all.”
Colin gasped and picked it up. Sure enough, it was.
“You opened my mail!” He said in disbelief. “That's illegal!”
Jared smirked and stretched his arms above him, giving a great yawn, spreading his knees wider in the process. “I'm going to prison,” he lowered his hands onto the back of his head and sat there with his arms up. Colin was glad he wasn't close enough to smell him. “Where I'll be handcuffed to a cell door and sodomized by the warden for a pack of smokes.”
“You wish,” Colin pulled Eamon's letter out and opened it. It wasn't nearly as illicit as Jared had suggested.
“He actually did say that line about my sweet ‘arse' though,” Jared said. “That night he tried to get me in bed.”
“You must be special, it usually works.”
Jared snorted.
“He says he'll meet up with us in London,” Colin said, after reading for a minute. “Gonna come down and spend some time with us since he can commute easier.”
“I know, I read it. How far is it from Dublin to London?”
“Not that far actually,” Colin continued to read. Then he looked up at Jared with a smile. “We used to take the ferry down all the time, go into London for the weekend, get pissed up, come back on Sunday for church.”
“How Godly.”
“Maybe the rest of my family can come for a visit too. That would be nice. Or I could go home for a couple of days!” Colin's heart leapt. “Yeah, I could do that!”
“Shannon's coming too,” Jared lowered his arms and rubbed his eyes. His water bottle was sitting in his crotch still.
“Is he?”
“Yeah, just for a week or so.”
“I know what it means to have family around when you're on one of these bastard shoots,” Colin smiled and went back to his letter. “I'm glad he's coming to see you.”
Jared got up from his chair, though Colin didn't realize he was standing in front of him until a shadow fell across the letter. Colin looked up. Jared leaned over, putting his hands on the arms of the chair, his hair sweeping forward and dragging across the paper. He did smell, but it was the sort of gamey funk they'd all had over them for days, and it wasn't so much repellant as familiar. Colin glanced around, that old instinct still there, but everyone else was off in the faux jungle.
“You know, sometimes…” Jared whispered, a little smile on his lips. “You're a hell of a guy.”
“Only sometimes?” Colin smiled back. After another glance around, Colin grabbed a handful of Jared's hair and tugged him forward. He stole a quick kiss and then released him. Jared's lips were salty. It was something Colin wouldn't have dreamed of doing only three weeks ago, but now that he let himself do it, it was kind of…exciting.
Jared stood upright and smiled, a light dancing in his eyes. “And surprising, too. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Colin smiled and folded up his letter. “Would you do me a favor though?”
“Maybe. Depends on what it is.”
“Stay out of my fucking mail?”
Jared cackled, grabbed up his letters, and headed out into the jungle. He was swinging his water bottle back and forth, an arc of water shooting out the open top.
****
Filming wrapped up on a Friday, and that night Oliver threw a party. They were leaving Saturday morning, so it was the last hurrah in Thailand. It was also the last time most of the cast and all of the extras would be working, since only the principal actors were continuing on to London to wrap things up. The tone of the party was both excited and bittersweet.
It was held in an enormous convention room at the expensive, classy hotel they had been afforded for their last night in Thailand. The party was heavily steeped in Thai culture, from the decorations to the food and the entertainment. Oliver wanted them to have one last taste of the country before they left. The tables were draped with patterned tablecloths and covered with flowers, the walls hung with sweeping lengths of tan and gold cloth. There were golden statuettes sitting around, so it had the atmosphere of a temple. Several tables near the doors were heaped with food, and there were people dressed in brightly colored garments dancing at one end of the room, where a large mass of people was gathered watching. Colin noticed with a wince that Oliver had decided to plaster huge posters across one of the walls depicting the primary cast, in the center of which was a huge, imposing picture of Colin as Alexander. It was one of the promotional shots he had done back in Spain before shooting began.
Some of the guests were dressed in traditional Thai fashion, long skirts and colorful shirts, silk scarves and wraps. Colin had dressed nicely but simple, in a dark green sweater and black dress slacks. He had just been glad to enjoy the pleasure of a real shower—it was amazing how much he had taken showers for granted before doing this movie. He wove his way through the crowd, the chatter of voices and the ring of music filling his ears. People kept stopping him to say hello, hug him, or shake his hand, and it took nearly ten minutes to get to the table with the drinks on it.
A beer in hand, he braced himself and continued his circuit of the room. Lots of people had cameras and wanted a picture with him. He tried to make his way over to watch the dancers, but there were too many people around. Finally he ran into Oliver, near the wall with the posters.
“I'm going to make a little speech, then we'll have some pictures of the cast together,” he said, one arm around Colin's shoulders, the other holding a drink.
“Sounds good to me,” Colin said over the noise. “That's my life!” He glanced up at the poster and winced again.
He'd been at the party for nearly an hour before he saw Jared. He was standing in the midst of a group of people, and Colin checked him out discreetly, taking a long drink of his beer.
His extensions had been cut out that day after shooting, Jared having collected them and done a sort of victory dance with them when they were gone. Colin, unfortunately, had to keep his until after they were done in London. Jared's hair now lay soft on his shoulders but didn't go much past them. He had shaved too, his face smooth and youthful once more. His outfit made Colin wonder if he was made of liquid, because someone must have had to pour him into it.
He was wearing tight black pants, possibly leather, though probably vinyl. He also had a tight black button down shirt on, with barely any buttons done—wide collar, wide sleeves folded up to his elbows, the bottom tucked into his pants. None of the clothing left much to the imagination, every curve and muscle in sharp definition. He was wearing one necklace, the medallion that Alexander and Hephaistion both wore and which he and Colin had decided they would exchange locks of hair for at the end of shooting. Other than that he had a few simple bracelets and a watch on. Jared never piled on the jewelry like Colin did.
Colin didn't want to interrupt him, so he just hung around where he was for a while and talked to people who drifted over to him. He wondered when exactly he had become such a schoolgirl, hanging on the fringe of the crowd waiting for a boy to notice him.
When Jared did notice him, he left his group and walked over to Colin with a huge grin. His smell preceded him, and it was lovely this time.
“Isn't this something?” Jared said, standing close to be heard. “Oliver went all out. Have you tried the food?”
“Not just yet, I thought I'd get some alcohol in me first.” Colin smiled and took a drink of his beer, then glanced sideways at him. “You look good.”
Jared looked down at himself, then smiled up at Colin and looked him over as well. “Not too shabby yourself.”
Colin grinned and looked off across the room. His grin faded, however, when he saw Francisco and Jonathan. They looked as together as ever, Jonathan's arm wrapped loosely around Francisco's waist. They had been in the gardens with them, but Colin had done his best to avoid them. Thankfully Francisco had only been there for filming one day, and he didn't visit Jonathan very much after he left. Colin rather wished they weren't coming to London, but both of them had parts to do in the studio.
Francisco happened to glance their way, and Jared waved at him. He waved back, a tight smile on his face, and Colin looked down at his bottle.
“You're gonna have to sort things out eventually you know,” Jared said.
“I know,” Colin said. “I just wish it wasn't so awkward. I miss their company.”
“If Jonathan hasn't figured out something weird is going on by now, he's got to be stupid.”
Colin knew he'd figure it out eventually, but he was hoping they might by some stroke of luck avoid it all together.
Oliver made his speech, which inevitably, involved pulling Colin up in front of everyone and rattling off his laurels. Colin returned the favor, reading a long list of Oliver's finer points, a bit tipsy from the beer on an empty stomach and peppering it with jokes that were met with uproarious laughter. Everyone clapped and cheered at the appropriate moments, Jared standing at the front of the crowd and smiling knowingly at Colin the entire time.
After the cast photos, Jared caught him for a moment, touching his arm.
“You wanna meet me back at my room in about an hour?” He said, close to Colin's ear. The look on his face was complacent, leaving the decision to Colin, which he had been much more generous about since Colin had stopped being so resistant. They weren't exactly an adoring couple yet, but they were learning the finer points of give and take.
Colin thought about it for a minute, contemplating the evening stretched out in front of him—more socializing and speeches, or brilliant sex. “Sure,” he gave Jared a smile. “I'm just gonna hit the food right now.”
Colin started untangling himself well in advance, as he knew escape would be a slow process. Finally getting out of the convention room and into an elevator, he drew a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall. He was twenty minutes late, but given the circumstances he was sure Jared would understand—it was hard to say if he had even managed to get out yet.
Jared's room was on the tenth floor, and Colin rapped gently on the door. Jared was there, as he opened the door a moment later dressed in his blue djellaba from Morocco—only his blue djellaba from Morocco.
“It's a good thing it was me,” Colin quipped as he moved inside and Jared shut the door behind him. “Sorry I'm late.”
“I'm surprised you got here this early,” Jared breezed past him, his scent gusting over Colin—shampoo and soap and a subtle hint of cologne all blended together. “Oh, the life of a celebrity,” Jared sighed. “Want a drink?” There was a bottle of champagne chilling on ice on a room service cart, two glasses sitting beside it. “Oliver sent it up. I ordered the other glass.”
“Sure, it's a night of celebration.” Colin sat down on the bed, watching him pour it. “I'll drink to leaving the jungle.”
Jared brought a glass over to him, the one hook on his djellaba that was fastened doing nothing to obscure the glimpse that Colin got of bare stomach and the fine hairs at the top of Jared's groin. “I'll drink to that too,” Colin murmured, taking the glass and glancing up at him. Jared smirked.
“You're so goddamn sexy now that you have that stick out of your ass,” Jared informed him. “I hope nobody trips on it. It was pretty fucking huge.”
“Sometimes I think there's still splinters,” Colin confessed.
“Splinters I can deal with.”
After the champagne came the kissing, the kissing which led to the bed, which was really the only place either of them wanted to be. It wasn't urgent, though. Colin lay spooned against Jared's back, his shirt off and feet bare, his arm draped over Jared's side and his face close to his hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. They just talked for a while, a warmth low in Colin's belly that made his cock semi-hard but didn't fuel his arousal enough to make him single minded. Jared had his hand over Colin's on his hip, drawing patterns on it with his fingertips.
“Are you sorry we're leaving Thailand?” Jared asked him.
“No. All I did was suffer here.” He inhaled through his rehabilitated nose. “I think I'll be glad to leave it.”
Jared shifted around, turning over so he was lying on his back and looking at him. Their faces were close together, Jared's breath on his cheek. “All you did was suffer here?”
“Well,” Colin smiled. “This is nice.”
“You're not getting gooey on me, are you?”
“No,” Colin took his hand and slid it down to his crotch. “Things are getting pretty firm actually,” he whispered, and leaned in to draw a sucking kiss from Jared's lips.
When they broke the kiss and Jared drew back, he gazed at Colin intently. “You wanna try what we were talking about?”
Colin swallowed. They'd been discussing it for a week now, at the strangest of moments. Logistics, questions, reassurances, a building need for a concrete sign of intimacy and a pure sense of curiosity on Colin's part. With Jared looking at him the way he was, Colin felt like he had come to the edge now and had to make a decision if he wanted to leap or walk back.
“All right,” he finally said, though his voice held only a tenuous conviction. “If you're ready, I guess.”
“I'm ready,” Jared smiled. Then he said softly, “You trust me?”
“I think so.”
Colin lost the remainder of his clothes. The next time Jared spoke, his breath was hot against Colin's inner thigh. “I'm glad you don't have to shave your legs anymore,” his blue eyes, dusky with arousal, gazed up at him. “I like the hair on your thighs.” He gave one a slow, caressing lick.
“Kind of thought it was a dumb thing myself,” Colin's voice was breathy and shaky. “Does Oliver think the Macedonians didn't have body hair?”
Colin had found something in letting go of his preoccupations that he hadn't expected, and that was an appreciation of Jared's masculinity. Some deep-seated fear had backed off, at least enough to let Colin see past himself, and now the feel and sight of Jared's body was a different experience. Colin was aroused by the things he had ignored before—the way Jared's hips were not like a woman's, the flat firmness of his chest, the sleek muscles of his arms and legs. Colin realized he wanted him because he was a man, and while that was still a hard pill to swallow, when he let it be things happened.
Things like Jared's breath warm on his spine, slick fingers where Colin had never felt them before, Jared's hair brushing across his shoulder.
“Are you sure?” Jared whispered close to his ear.
“Yes,” Colin's fingers curled around the edge of the pillow. “Just…take it easy.” Colin's heart was racing, but he was trying to relax.
Colin gave a strangled cry against the pillowcase when Jared first pushed in. It hurt, burned, but not enough to be agonizing, not enough for him to yell ‘stop' as Jared had assured him he could.
“Fuck, you didn't tell me you were so big,” Colin grunted against the pillow, trying to keep his breath slow and even.
“You've had it in your mouth, idiot. You didn't notice then?” Colin didn't know how he would react if they ever called each other something endearing in an intimate moment. Jared whispered huskily, “Just wait, you'll see.”
Colin did see, once Jared was fully in, so deep inside him that Colin felt more vulnerable than he had ever felt in his life, completely at someone else's mercy, pinned, taken. But there was intensity to it as well, a sensation that was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a deep, profound pleasure that made him groan desperately, clutching harder at the pillow. Jared was smug.
“Told you,” Colin could feel his smile against the tight tendons of his neck. “And that's why I like it.”
“I'm glad I asked,” Colin replied, finding it hard to stay relaxed, when all he wanted to do was grab and cling to anything he could reach.
Jared was careful but not gentle, starting slow but getting harder, and Colin liked that. It somehow helped justify to himself what he was allowing to happen, if he could take it, however hard, and maintain his dignity. The pain faded to be replaced by a maddening, pleasurable friction, and soon he realized the truth of it. The hard, quick thrusts became more about agonizing delight than a test of his endurance, a symphony played with both their bodies, one note incomplete without the other.
“You all right?” Jared's voice was hitched, punctuated with the light slapping of flesh on flesh. Colin couldn't speak, only nod, eyes closed and mouth open, his breath pulled in sharply with each thrust. “Come up on your knees a bit,” Jared was tugging at his hips with firm-gripping fingers. “I'll get you off.”
On his knees, Colin felt completely helpless and overcome, but the pleasure was intense enough that he found it hard to care. Jared's hand stroked him, the sensation almost secondary to everything else he was feeling. Jared slowed, changed the angle of his hips, and started thrusting shallowly. Colin wondered what he was doing until he felt the head of his cock graze something that shot a white-hot bolt of pleasure up his spine and he couldn't think anymore.
“God,” Colin was panting, his cock twitching in Jared's hand. He'd almost come. “What the fuck was that?”
“Your prostate,” Jared gave a breathy laugh. Colin could feel Jared's thighs pressed against the sides of his, slick with sweat and tensing as he held himself steady. “The single greatest argument for gay sex.”
Jared found it again after a few experimental thrusts, and Colin gave a rather unmanly yell.
“You keep doing that and I'll come,” Colin was panting, head hanging between his arms. Everything smelled like sex.
“That's what you do during sex,” Jared gave a long, slick stroke to the length of Colin's cock, fingers squeezing. “Let it go.”
He did, not long after, yelling again at the intensity of it, fingers digging into the pillow. He clenched so hard around Jared's cock that it hurt, never having had an orgasm with something lodged in that particular part of his body. Jared's hand moved slowly on him, working out every drop. Some of it hit Colin's stomach and chest, most of it splattering the blanket beneath him.
“Oh my God,” Colin was panting against the pillow, body hot and trembling. Jared was still moving slowly inside him.
Jared leaned over his back, his hair brushing against Colin's arm, tickling his armpit as Jared kissed his sweaty shoulder. “That was hot,” Jared whispered. He started thrusting faster. Having come, the sensation wasn't as intense but it still held Colin in place. Jared stayed by his shoulder, forehead brushing against it.
There were a few minutes of deep, hard thrusts, nearly unbearable in Colin's heightened state, and then Jared gasped. “Do you want me to come in your ass? Or would you rather I pull out?”
Colin knew he didn't have long to think. He could feel the tension in Jared's body, the way his thrusts were becoming erratic. Colin's face was still pressed against the pillow and he moaned, sharp little aftershocks of pleasure going through him as Jared filled him over and over.
“I've come this far,” Colin whispered, barely aware of his own words. “Might as well do it inside.”
It was strange, feeling Jared come inside him, that throbbing he usually felt in his hand or mouth, followed by the sensation of warmth. Jared moaned, his fingers raking down Colin's sides. He dropped his cheek against his shoulder and gave a long, delighted sigh. “Fuck, Colin.”
In the aftermath, Colin's body buzzing and twitching all over, he was almost afraid of Jared pulling out—what it would feel like, what it would feel like after, if all he had just pumped into him would come running back out.
It didn't, not really, and lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, lit by the yellow glow of the lamp next to the bed, he simply felt a bit stretched and funny. Jared was flopped at his side, hand resting against Colin's arm, his softening cock drooping against his sweaty thigh. They were both quiet for a long time, and then Jared finally rolled over, looking into his eyes.
“You all right?”
Colin nodded. After a moment he found his voice as well. “It was nice. Didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would.”
Jared chewed at his lower lip, studying his face, and then he smiled. “My first virgin,” he poked at Colin's side, and Colin snorted. “Nice and tight.”
“It's good to know after all this time I can still say that about some part of myself. Well, could.”
Jared grinned wider, and propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at him. “You're a hell of a guy,” he said softly.
“So I've been told.”
Later, in the darkness, cleaned up and not feeling so strange, Colin listened to Jared's soft breathing against his shoulder. His fingers skimmed Jared's forearm, the fine hairs tickling his fingertips. He was thinking about London. London, which was the last leg of a very long race. A conclusion. An ending.
Colin tilted his face downward, looking at him. Jared was just a shadow in the darkness, the faint light from the window picking out the tips of his eyelashes and gleaming on his hair. Colin touched his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, smooth, no stubble there yet.
“Colin?” Jared whispered.
“Yes,” Colin whispered back. “I know.”
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continued in 'A London Affair'
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