David Boreanaz/Christian Kane/Hugh Jackman
This never happened. This is not real.
For gingerpig’s birthday and for lady_t_220 because they both make me smile. Every. Single. Day.
Part of the Austin Stories
Harder to Breathe
"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get, it's what you are expected to give -- which is everything."
Chris woke up, one arm numb from sleeping on his shoulder, pressed between two warm bodies. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the low light that seeped around heavy curtains, at the stale taste of alcohol in his mouth, the dry, dehydrated feel of his tongue. A deep breath and he immediately knew that David was in front of him. No way he would ever not know the unique earth and musk scent of the broad back and short brown hair he could see through blurry eyes.
Chris shifted carefully, felt the hand on his hip slip off as the person behind him changed positions. Chris pushed himself up from the mattress, glancing around the room. Hotel. Random. Thick drapes pulled against the window and drawn across the sliding doors. Two large beds, both rumpled. Blankets on the floor, pillows tossed, clothes littered the room along with empty liquor bottles and filled ashtrays.
Looks like they had fun. Chris wished he could remember it.
He stumbled to the bathroom, shut the door behind him and almost cried at the bright fluorescent light, the noise of the fan. He turned on the shower and flipped the lights off. Hell, if he couldn’t shower in the dark by now, he really was fucked up. He stepped under the hot water and simply stood. Letting it beat down on his body, run over his sore muscles, his knees shaking until he locked them in place and leaned against the tiles.
Steam rose around him in the pitch black, so dark that Chris couldn’t even tell if his eyes were still open. The smell of sweat and sex filled the small space and Chris turned his head up, under the spray. Drinking down water, rinsing out his mouth and spitting and swallowing greedily. His hair slicked over his face and just as Chris thought he might be able to function as a human being for a few hours, he felt a hand reach for him.
“Always shower in the dark?” The softly accented voice curled around Chris like fog. Licking at his skin. Familiar and not. Bringing memories Chris wasn’t sure he wanted to recall.
“Yeah.” He growled, ignoring the fingertips that touched from his shoulder to his hips. “It’s an old Cherokee tradition.”
Low laughter and Chris slid out from under the water as he felt the other man’s body press against him. Wet skin in the dark. He heard the flow of the spray change as it poured over a different body, thought about leaving, but fuck it. Apparently who ever it was, they already knew each other, intimately.
“You okay?” The hand came back, this time sliding over Chris’ smooth chest to his neck, fingers on his jaw. Chris reached back, his hand bumping into skin that was covered with the soft, wet velvet of hair. Up to feel the scratch and bite of a beard. His thumb running over lips that parted and he felt the warm lap of a tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth.
“I don’t know.” Chris said with absolute honesty.
The last thing he remembered with any clarity was fighting with David. Fuck. Constant arguing, punches that left bruises. Words that cut and left wounds that bled. Nothing new between them at all.
“Going to find everyone that I’ve ever fucked, Kane? Going to fuck everyone that’s ever propositioned me? Your dick will fucking fall off first.”
“I just want you.”
“Bullshit, Chris. You want anything that moves. You have no morals. You have no ethics. You have no principals. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”
And then David’s voice on the phone late at night and Chris had just fallen asleep after two days of insomnia, songwriting and script memorizing.
“Got someone I want you to meet, Kane.”
“Come here. Now.”
Chris wrote down the address on the back of a tab sheet, pulling his jeans up off the floor with his free hand. Cursing David even as he ran fingers through his unruly hair and looked for the keys to his truck.
Daylight now and Chris didn’t have a clue where his truck was parked. Standing in a shower, in the dark with another man. David passed out on the bed in the other room.
“Hugh, right?” Chris could feel the laughter through the tips of his fingers, the mouth he was touching curve into a smile.
“Yeah.” The accented voice was close to his ear and Chris’s hand dropped from jaw to shoulder to curved bicep. His cock stirred as Hugh’s groin brushed against him.
Little flashes of the night started leaking through the dense fog in his brain and Chris felt Hugh’s hands moving over him. Sliding over the bones of his hips and drifting on the tight muscles of his abdomen, fingers pausing and flicking, lightly pinching his nipples.
David had met him at the door. Whiskey in one hand, a joint in the other and Chris immediately knew it was going to be one of those nights. Like a vacation you needed another vacation to recover from, this was going to be a night that he would regret when he felt the pain the next day and did that stop him? Slow him down? Pause his arm as he reached for the open bottle of JD and inhaled the line of coke off the back of David’s hand? Not for one second.
David’s kisses were hard from the get go. His hands rough and greedy, his laughter infectious and his friend … very friendly. The accent threw Chris for a moment. Reminded him of Russell, even though it was not as exaggerated and more cultured. David moved between Hugh and Chris as though it was a natural place to be. Making sure they both always had something in their glasses, making sure they both had something to smoke and when the time came, he made sure they both came at least twice before he did once. Perfect host. Perfect gentleman. Perfect lover.
Chris didn’t question David’s generosity, didn’t ask why they were not fighting for this night. Didn’t wonder if there had been a truce called that he wasn’t informed about. He just took this grace as a gift that would never be returned.
Hugh was walking sensuality. Smiling at David’s jokes, adding his own anecdotes from time spent on Broadway, in movies. Time with directors that both David and Chris would happily suck off in front of the paparazzi for the chance to work with and for and when did David become so gracious? Music played from a sound system that Chris didn’t look for, a breeze blew in from the open patio doors. Whiskey and wine and pot and coke and when David leaned closer and kissed him, when Chris felt David’s hand unbutton his shirt, stroke over the skin of his chest, Chris felt as if he could burst from happiness. As if this was all he wanted, all he ever needed.
“Known Hugh for a long time. Been with him a few times … before I met you.” David said and Chris didn’t care. Didn’t feel that flare of jealousy burn inside of him and he didn’t ask why.
Hugh moved to the other side of him and Chris was lost. Caught in between a David that he hadn’t known existed and a man that he didn’t know at all. Hands undressing him, pulling him off the couch and to the bed. Taking his pants off and fuck … standing with his legs apart, one hand on David’s head, one reaching back and digging into the thick soft fullness of Hugh’s hair. David’s mouth on his cock, sucking him deep and hard and Hugh’s hands on his ass, spreading him wide open and licking, poking, tasting and Chris was coming before he even knew it. Before he’d even gotten that high, before he’d even known he was there.
Chris looked down, watching David swallow around him, and then stand up, kissing Hugh over Chris’ shoulder and Chris shuddered from the feel of Hugh’s cock pressing into him, of David’s cock smashed against him.
They fucked in every position imaginable.
David’s cock in Chris’s mouth, Hugh’s cock in Chris’s ass. Chris fucking David, David fucking Hugh and all over again and again until they collapsed against each other on the mattress that wasn’t as wet, wasn’t as covered with come and sweat and tears as the other.
Chris could still feel where David’s hands had bruised him, where Hugh’s teeth had bitten him. He could still feel two sets of fingers opening him, two different cocks in him and he shook with the intensity of it. Felt the heat stir through him as he stood under the water in the dark, letting Hugh touch him again. Feeling Hugh’s mouth nuzzle his neck, the scrape of Hugh’s beard on his jaw, across his lips.
And then Chris stopped. He gently pushed Hugh back a step and shook his head. Pain sparking behind his eyes, sending off little flares through his brain.
“I can’t do this, Hugh. Not without David.”
There was a moment of silence between them. Water through the pipes, swirling and draining around them. Sliding over smooth skin, over defined muscles, dripping through wet hair on their arms, on their chests, surrounding their hard cocks and over thighs and knees and calves. Chris imagined for a second that he could feel every single drop. Trace it as it moved over him. Imagined that he could hear every breath that Hugh took, imagined that he could actually see Hugh’s face for that moment that was frozen in time. Endless.
Chris felt a hand touch him. Hugh’s, he assumed, but then there was a completely familiar voice near him. The sound of the water changing as its flow was diverted yet again.
One word, spoken in the dark. A whisper from the soul. A heart beat and a breath and Chris felt David’s mouth on his. David’s shoulders and chest pushing him into the tiles. David’s hands moving on him, touching him. David’s cock pressing against his abdomen and Chris melted into the heat. His hands reaching up to find the broad shoulders he knew, the arms that he could visualize, the neck and hair and face that he knew as well as his own.
“David.” Chris whispered and felt a mouth moving over his jaw and neck. Teeth biting him, hands on his hips, reaching down for his thighs. Pulling him up against the tiles, a hard cock between his legs, pushing up against his balls.
“Want you.” David’s voice was slippery, cool black mud on a hot summer day. It was lemonade after mowing the lawn in one hundred degree temperatures. It was confirmation and passion and desire.
“Love you.” Chris moaned. His fingers dug into David’s shoulders as he spread his legs and let David hold him up against the wall. Let David push inside of him. As he felt the head of David’s cock breech him, enter him and he cried out with the feel of it.
Nothing, no one compared to David. Ever. Never had.
Everything else was smoke and mirrors and painted lust. This was real. This was now. This hurt when it was taken away and this mattered.
This was David and this was Chris and this was perfect.
This was love.
No matter how fucked up it was.