Please see Part 1 for disclaimers and archiving information.

"From The Top", Part 11/33
By Clotho (clothomoerae@hotmail.com) and Cathy (huntersglenn@yahoo.com)

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Dave wasn't at the fire when John returned, but the blaze was larger.  John
put the picnic basket on the ground, then spread out the blanket and sat
down to enjoy the heat of the fire until Dave returned.

Dave returned with another armload of wood, and saw Carter sitting by the
fire, looking like a poster boy for outdoor gear.  He dropped the wood and
sat down.  "Hi."

"Hi, yourself.  I brought some stuff for lunch," John gestured toward the
picnic basket.  "Not much -- just hot dogs and some snack food.  And
there's hot cocoa in the thermos."  John's body was still craving warmth
and he inched a bit closer to the fire.  "You've done a good job with the
fire."  It certainly wouldn't hurt to give Dave more praise, John thought.
With his past, he would have thought that he would be the first person to
offer praise to others and it bothered him a bit that he hadn't been doing
that with Dave.  Unless his comments during sex counted, which John didn't
think they did.

"Yeah."  Dave smiled, and turned to Carter.  "It's quite a good one, isn't
it?"  He leaned forward to warm his hands over the blaze, then stood up,
"I'll get us a coupla roasting forks for the hotdogs."  He stood and
returned a minute later with two green two-pronged sticks, he passed one to
Carter and sat down on a corner of the blanket.  "Hot dog?"

"Thanks," John said.  "Now, roasting a hot dog over a fire is something I
can do.  I've been around quite a few camp and bonfires."  John dug into
the basket for the package of hot dogs and handed two to Dave, then stuck
two on his stick and held it toward the flames.  His body was warming up,
his stomach was going to be fed and Dave was sitting near him and not
toying with his libido.  "This is nice," John said, smiling into the fire.

Dave pushed his hot dogs across the prongs of his stick, and set them to
heat in the fire.  "Yeah, it is."  It was much more fun doing this with
Carter here than it had been alone.  He edged a little toward the middle of
the blanket.  "Fish in the lake?"

"Yes.  But they go to the bottom in the winter.  Anyway, Grandfather's
never let us fish here.  If we want to fish, then we have to go out in a
boat on Lake Michigan.  There's also some deer in the forest.  Maybe later
I can drive you around the property and we can spot something."  John
rotated his hot dogs, not wanting them to get too done on the outside.  "I
hate it when the skin on a hot dog is burned," he commented.  "What about
you?"

Dave grinned.  "Pity -- be fun to roast a just caught fish.  Doncha think
-- anything cooked over a campfire tastes good, burned or not."  He grinned
suddenly.  "You've got *deer* here?  Do you eat them?"

"I like venison, but we don't hunt here.  Grandfather likes the idea of
letting them live here in peace."  John pulled his stick in and removed one
hot dog, biting into it to see if it was cooked enough to eat.  It was.  He
reached into the basket for the package of buns and the condiments.  "Are
yours done yet?"

"You've got all this stuff 'n you don't use it?"  Dave shook his head.
Carter seemed to think his first hotdog was done, so Dave reached for a
bun, and dosed it with the flavourings while keeping the food near the
flames with his other -- no sense letting them get cold.   When he had his
roll ready, he quickly encased his outermost hotdog in it, and bit into it.
As his teeth penetrated the bun, he began to yell.  "ot......"

Shaking his head, John grinned, thinking once more of how much like an
adolescent Dave was at times.  Not even thinking that his food might be too
hot, he just bit into it.  John leaned back and scooped up some snow in his
hand -- it was cold against his skin and he reminded himself to put his
gloves back on once he was done eating.  Then he handed the snow out to
Dave.  "I know it's not water but it might help."

Dave sucked it gratefully into his mouth, then spat it out.  "old..."

John laughed.  "There's no pleasing you, is there?"  He looked around and
nodded.  "You know, just because you have something...some *place* like
this, that doesn't mean you have to use it up.  If all the deer and fish
and trees were used up, then what would be left?"

Dave shrugged, and took a second, more cautious bite of his hot dog.  It
tasted good. "But, they breed don't they?"

"Can't breed if they're all dead."  John finished off his first hot dog and
decided he needed something to drink.  He reached for the thermos.  "Damn.
I forgot to get another cup.  You don't mind sharing a cup, do you?" John
asked as he unscrewed the cup from the thermos.

"Nope."  Dave shrugged.  "I didn't say kill all of them.   But wouldn't it
be cool to just catch a fish then cook it?"

"I don't like fish."  John filled the cup with cocoa, drank down half and
then held the cup out to Dave.  "Want some?"

Dave took the cup and drank down the sweet liquid.  "This's good.  Okay, a
deer then.  Wouldn't it be cool, to just get a deer, and right there strip
a few steaks off, and light a fire and cook it?"

"The deer here...well, some of them will come up to you and take food from
your hand.  They're almost like pets and you don't eat your pets, Dave."
John shook his head.  "At least *I* don't eat my pets."

Dave shrugged.  "Okay it wouldn't be fair if they trusted you.  But
otherwise, just going out with a rifle...no a bow and arrow'd be better.
And stalking one through the woods, and shooting it.  An' all the time its
mate might be comin' up behind you with a head full of antlers an...."

"You've never been hunting, have you?"  John asked.  He had, but he was
beginning to think that Dave hadn't.  Hunting involved a lot more than
that, and a good hunter, in John's opinion, never lost sight of the fact
that he or she had just taken another life.

Dave looked at Carter in astonishment.  "No."  When would he ever have done
that?  "Fished though."

"Really?  In Grenada?"  John started on his second hot dog and looked over
at Dave while he chewed.

"Yep, and Louisiana."

"Louisiana?"  John asked, wondering how and why Dave had ended up there.
"What took you there?"

"My intern year."  Dave took off a bite of hot dog wondering why he'd ever
mentioned Louisiana.

"Oh.  You're lucky.  I went to med school here, did most of my rotations at
County and then matched there, too.  Of course, that was in surgery, but
still...except for boarding school and college, I've never lived away from
Chicago."  John finished off his second hot dog and contemplated a third
one.  "Did you like it there?"

Dave shrugged.  "At the start.  Then I didn't so I left."

"And that's when you came up here?"  John decided that another hot dog was
definitely needed and he stuck it on his stick, then held it out to the
fire.  "That must have been a big change, going from the deep-south to
Chicago."

"Hey great."  Dave patted Carter on the back.  "Good skills, my friend."
Dave hastily swallowed the remainder of his hot dog and dived into the
basket to look for more supplies.

John smiled at Dave's comment but it quickly faded.  'Good skills', John
thought.  Yeah, that's me.  'Mr. Good skills'.  Not 'Mr. Good lover', or
'Mr. Take off your clothes and let me have my way with you'.  Nope, not
him.  Just 'good skills'.  John was so busy ruminating over that short
sentence that he neglected his hot dog and it wasn't until it was engulfed
with flames that he noticed it.  "Shit!  Oh, man," John jerked it out of
the fire and dumped the entire end of his stick into the snow.  The burning
hot dog sizzled angrily as it was put out.

Dave's brought his head out of the picnic basket as he watched the tragedy
unfold.  He laughed.  "Oops."  And threw the packet of unheated hot dogs
toward Carter, "If that one's too burned for you, I'll have it."

"I think Lucifer himself would think it's too burned, but suit yourself."
John pulled the stick in and handed the charred wiener to Dave.  "Are you
sure you want it?"

Dave looked at the sausage -- it was comprehensively burnt -- he scraped
the worst of the charring off, then reached for the mustard and ketchup.
One of the things they were best at was drowning the flavour of charcoal.
He poured them over it, then proceeded to eat it, smiling at Carter and not
bothering with a bun.

John watched as Dave ate the bun-less hot dog, his mind remembering the one
time that Dave tried to perform oral sex on him.  If only Dave would try
again -- John certainly wouldn't turn him down if he offered.  And he
definitely wouldn't turn Dave down right now if he asked John to go down on
him.  It was with great reluctance that John tore his gaze away from Dave's
mouth.  He fumbled with the hot dog package and finally removed one to
cook.  "I think you'll eat just about anything, won't you?"

Dave grinned at Carter, licking a descending trail of ketchup off the short
stump of the remaining sausage.  "Yep."

John made the mistake of looking up as Dave answered and he had to bite his
bottom lip in an effort to hold back a whimper as he watched Dave lick the
hot dog.  "I can see that," he finally said.  John impaled a wiener on the
stick and held it out to the fire, promising himself that he would be more
careful this time around.  Then again, if he burned another one, then maybe
Dave would eat it, too.

Dave retrieved the bag of marshmallows from where they'd fallen, stuck
several on the end of his stick, and started to heat them over the fire.
They were more delicate than the wieners, and he didn't want them to catch
fire so he moved forward, -- and then -- he really couldn't help it if
Carter had chosen the best part of the fire, so he needed to sit close to
him, and occasionally bump shoulders -- now could he?

When Dave's shoulder jostled him, John's arm jerked and his hot dog dipped
into the flames, the end of the stick hitting burning wood and dislodging
the wiener.  "Hey, watch it, Malucci," he snapped as he pulled the empty
stick back.

Dave grinned, Carter really wasn't having much luck with his food.  He
pulled his melting marshmallows back, and reached for the crackers to
secure it.  Then handed the completed sandwich to Carter.  "Hold this.
I'll get it."  Dave poked his stick down into the flames, chasing the
ill-fated frankfurter under one burning stick and out the other side.

John bit into the half-made S'more as he watched Dave play with the now
burned hot dog.  He figured that he'd just quit while now and go on to
desert.  "I'm not eating that now," John informed Dave through his mouthful
of graham cracker and marshmallow.  "Too burned."

" You..." Dave looked up.  "Hey.  That's mine."  He moved back, grinning,
to try and grab Carter's wrist and wrestle the half-eaten object away from
its kidnapper.

"You gave it to me," John protested as he tried to pull his wrist toward
his mouth so he could finish off the sweet.

"I told you to look after it."  Dave kept a firm hold of Carter's wrist,
then lowered his mouth to bite into the S'more while Carter was still
holding it.

"Oh, no, you don't."  John reached over with his free hand and snatched the
S'more away before Dave could get it.  "Try to get it now," John taunted as
he popped it into his mouth, winning that round of the food war.

Dave looked at Carter.  The S'more was gone, gone, gone.  Except for a
trail of marshmallow on his cheek.  Dave reached over and ran his finger
along the pink sticky stuff, then licked it.

John froze as Dave's finger left a burning trail along his cheek, and then
the finger was gone.  John swallowed down his expectations and instead
chose to joke.  "If you're that desperate for something sweet, there's
marshmallow on my fingers."  John tried to hold up the hand that had
previously held the morsel, but Dave was still holding onto John's wrist,
so John made do with wiggling his fingers.

Dave brought the wiggling fingers to his mouth.  "Where?"  Then he saw a
splodge of pink and white froth on the ring finger and pinky, and stuck out
his tongue to lick them away.  "Mine."  As Dave spoke his cock leapt to
life, and he almost dropped the hand in alarm -- but then looked up to
catch Carter's eye.

John held his breath and stilled his fingers as he watched Dave's tongue
move closer to them.  He then closed his eyes as he remembered the many
times Dave had sucked on those very fingers when they had spent the weekend
together.  If only....but, no, Dave had made it very plain not more than an
hour ago that nothing like that would happen again.  When he felt Dave's
tongue on his fingers, John's insides tightened.  It was almost too much to
bear to have Dave touching him so intimately.

Dave dropped the hand like a hot potato when he saw that Carter wasn't
looking at him.  He didn't know why he'd done that, and his cock was
getting harder by the second.  He hated this.  He reached for the bag of
marshmallows -- spilling the contents across the blanket and into the
snow.  "Stole that.  Hafta make another then."  He pushed the marshmallows
onto the stick, then pushed it into over the fire, staring at the redhot
embers that the blaze had died down to.  And willing his cock to soften.
But the more he thought about it, and how close Carter was...and how his
fingers had tasted with the marshmallow on them and the underlying flavour
of woodsmoke...and the skin on his cheek.  And....  And...the more he
thought about all that the harder his cock got.

John's eyes flew open as his wrist was abruptly released.  Dave had turned
away from him, and then marshmallows were practically flying all over the
place.  Confusion over what had just happened glued John in place and he
didn't even try to help Dave at first.  Then he shook off the incident and
got to his knees so he could crawl to the edge of the blanket and more
easily retrieve the marshmallows that had ended up in the snow.

Dave could hear Carter moving behind him.  He didn't turn his head.  Some
deeply sick part of his imagination insisting on thinking Carter was
pulling all his clothes off, and going to lie there on the blanket stark
naked, with his cock poking in the air to impale Dave, and a marshmallow in
his mouth to reward any kisses.  But that wasn't going to happen.  Dave
forced himself to remember last weekend, and Carter walking away from him
-- refusing to do him.  Whatever had happened before, he didn't
understand.  And earlier today -- rolling in the snow, he was sure he'd
felt Carter hard then.  Oh God, rolling in the snow with Carter.  Dave's
cock got harder than he'd thought possible and the marshmallows over the
fire burst into flames.

John had a handful of marshmallows and he was turning his head every which
way to see if he had missed any, but it appeared as if had them all
recovered.  As he turned around he saw the flaming marshmallows.  "I
certainly hope you're not planning on eating those," he said with a grin.
Shuffling forward on his knees, he neared the fire.  "I think these are
okay to eat."

Dave didn't dare to turn to face Carter, but he couldn't stop himself
either -- the man was close to him now, on his right.  Dave slowly turned
to face him, his mouth and eyes wide open.  "meyaaaa."  Meyaaaa?   What the
Hell did that mean?  But as Dave looked into Carter's brown eyes he
couldn't articulate anything else.  "meayaaa."

John frowned and he dropped the marshmallows as he realized that Dave had
lost the ability to speak.  "Dave?  Are you okay? Are you feeling any
numbness?  Loss of vision?  Try to talk to me, Dave."  John felt a cold
ball of fear in his gut as he feared that Dave was having a stroke.  It
wasn't a common occurrence, but people under the age of thirty did have
strokes.  Or brain hemorrhages.  God, please don't let Dave be dying right
before his eyes.  "Dave?"

Dave tried again, Carter's face was so close, his eyes were deep brown and
staring into Dave's own.  "Maryaaa."

"Mary?  Is that someone you know?  Dave?  Do you know who I am?   Can you
tell me my name?  How many fingers am I holding up?"  John held up three
fingers, then mentally cursed himself for having left his cell phone in the
house.  Damn.

Dave looked at Carter in disbelief.  He was hot as Hell, and the guy was
asking about fingers -- today was turning into pure torture. He began to
shake softly.

Dave was shaking -- he was having a seizure.  Dear God, this wasn't good.
John knew he had to get Dave away from the fire.  He quickly closed the gap
between them and pulled Dave away from the fire, forcing him to the ground
on his side.  "It'll be okay, Dave.  Once this seizure is over I can run to
the house and call for an ambulance."  But was it a stroke or a brain
hemorrhage?  There was no way to tell since Dave obviously couldn't speak.
John gently rubbed Dave's shoulder.  "It'll be all right.  Help will be
here soon, I promise."

This was just awful.  The only good thing in all this was that Carter was
holding him.  And Carter thought he was sick.  Dave sure didn't want to be
escorted to the hospital when his only sickness was a raging hard-on for
his co-worker.  He pushed himself toward Carter's chest, half hoping to
hold him down and prevent any phone calls being made, and the other half
hoping just to touch him.

"Dave, just be still.  The seizure will pass, I promise."  John said as he
tried to hold Dave down, but Dave was strong and kept pushing back.  Tears
stung John's eyes and he felt helpless.  "Please, Dave?  Just be still.
Please?"

Dave lunged upwards, and grabbed hold of Carter's chest with both arms.  By
now he was far too embarrassed to even try talking.  He pulled Carter tight
against him, and just held on.

"Wha..." This latest turn of events was almost too much for John to
comprehend.  And then it hit him -- Dave was getting back at him for faking
that his back hurt.  But faking something like a stroke or bleeding on the
brain AND seizure were far more serious than faking an aching back.  "This
isn't funny, Dave."  John said.  "You've got your revenge, now let me up."

Carter's chest felt good against Dave's and he didn't want to release him
-- but if Carter wasn't going to call the hospital any more the only reason
to stay there was because he liked it and...Dave let go and rolled to face
away from Carter, so the man couldn't see his erection.  Maybe it was
better -- easier -- if Carter thought he was lying like Carter had done to
him earlier.

As Dave's body moved, John felt a familiar hardness in the area of Dave's
groin.  Not that it meant anything.  Dave rolling *away* from him spoke
volumes, even if Dave was hard.  Still, lying there on the blanket and
looking at Dave's back, John couldn't hold back the words that left his
mouth, "Cock tease."

Dave lay, deeply embarrassed that just thinking of Carter, and being this
near him, and hearing mainly angry words could get him this aroused.  It
just wasn't right.

He waited until he'd heard Carter stop moving, and then scrambled to his
feet.  The only thing to do was jerk off, maybe then he'd be able to deal
with all this a bit better.

"Walking out on me again, Malucci?"  John asked as he watched Dave get to
his feet.  "The gate's a lot further away from here than it is from the
house, but at least you're dressed for the weather.  Although if you wanted
to leave, all you had to do was say so and I'd take you home.  You should
know that by now."  John returned his gaze to the marshmallows, but he
really didn't care if they burned or not.  They had just been a diversion,
something to occupy his mind and hands when Dave had once more rejected
him.

"Urrlp."  Dave gave up and headed for the other side of the island.   It
would be easier in a few seconds.

John watched Dave walk away, not sure what to do next.  He sat there and
watched the marshmallows burn away, then decided that he should go after
Dave.  Make sure he hadn't tripped over something while wearing the skates.

John found Dave easily enough, Dave must have hurt himself walking because
even though his back was to John, he was slightly bent at the waist and
making all kinds of noises.  And obviously not faking it this time.  John
rushed forward and came to a stop in front of Dave and then he simply
stared, not sure what to say.  Dave had been jerking off?  John looked from
Dave's hard cock, encased in his hand, then up to Dave's face and back to
the cock.  Dave preferred jerking off to him?

"Well, if that's not total rejection, then I don't know what is," John
softly said as he turned away from the sight of Dave's engorged cock.  A
cock that wouldn't be his.

Dave jerked upright at the sound of Carter's voice.  He felt himself
turning bright red under Carter's gaze then looked away angrily -- the guy
seemed to be out to humiliate him today.

"You know, Dave," John said as he looked through the sparse foliage toward
even more woods, "I know that you...don't care for me.  But I would have
thought that I would be preferable to your hand."  He turned back around
and saw that Dave at least had the decency to be embarrassed.  "If you
would have asked, I'd have sucked you off.  Done anything you wanted."

Dave shrugged, and tried to control his tongue.  "'kay."

Well, at least John would get one thing he wanted.  He walked over to where
Dave stood, but Dave still wouldn't meet his eyes.  So be it, John thought
as he slowly sank to his knees in the snow and turned his entire focus to
the throbbing cock in front of him.  John knew his hands were cold, so he
rubbed them together briskly and blew on them to warm them as much as he
could before using just his thumb and forefinger to grasp Dave's cock at
the base to steady it.  The sun made the pre-cum on the tip glisten and
John's tongue snaked out to lap it up before his mouth engulfed just the
head of Dave's cock.  Dave tasted just as good now as he had before and
John reached his hands around Dave, grabbing him by the buttocks to hold
him in place as he slowly lowered his mouth on him.

"Oh God."  It was good, so good.  Warm after the cold, and sensation after
almost nothingness.  And Carter.  "God."  Dave moved his hips forward,
willing Carter to take him in faster.

John could feel his own cock spring to life as his mouth lavished attention
upon Dave's cock.  The easy swaying of Dave's hips and the simulation of
being fucked was almost too much for John to bear.  He wanted Dave so
much.  Needed him so damn much.  And he had to resort to this -- to being
second best to Dave's own hand.  A part of John, the prideful part, wanted
to release Dave's cock, get to his feet and walk away, preserve his pride
and what little dignity he had left.  But there was another part of him
that couldn't do that -- the part that loved Dave and wanted to take
advantage of any tidbit that Dave would toss his way.  If he had to be
second best to Dave's hand, then so be it -- as long as he got to suck Dave
off.  Still, even as he moved his mouth over the length of Dave's cock,
John couldn't help but think of how much better it would be if that cock
were buried inside his ass.  So much better.  The question though, was his
ass good enough to be third best to Dave's hand?

Dave twisted his hands into Carter's hair.  "Oh God.  Yes.  Carter.   God."
He picked the tempo of his thrusting up.  "Carter.  Please.   God."

Dave was so into being sucked off that it was with a bit of reluctance that
John let go of him.  He looked up, ignoring the way Dave's wet cock bobbed
in the air in front of his face, ignored the bulk of Dave's jacket,
ignoring the hold Dave had in his hair.  "My ass is so much tighter and
hotter than my mouth, Dave."  John's voice was husky from a combination of
his own wishes and desires.

Dave looked down at Carter -- hope beginning to cross his face.  "I know."
That had to be an invitation -- it just had to be.  "Got any lube?"

John blinked hard as Dave's words resounded in his brain.  "Lube?"   Did
that question mean that Dave wanted to fuck him after all?

The cold was beginning to bite into Dave's dick.  Maybe he'd misread the
whole thing.  "F'ya ass.  Or suck me."

So, Dave would fuck him if he had lube.  "In my bedroom."

That was a long way away.  "God."  Dave held his hands at hitching point --
indecisive.  "Which.  Decide."


to be continued