Please see Part 1 for disclaimers and archiving information.

"From The Top", Part 28/33
By Clotho (clothomoerae@hotmail.com) and Cathy (huntersglenn@yahoo.com)

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Dave kissed Carter's back in response to the plea not to move.  He knew how it was when you'd been fucked.  He knew how important it was to have someone stay in you while you recovered, for as long as it took, he'd give that to Carter.  Dave kissed him again through the blue shirt, smiling at Carter's wriggling.  Then he began to wiggle his hands underneath Carter to try and get rid of the shirt -- Carter wouldn't want it on, not now, not after this.  He'd want them sweat to sweat and skin to skin, as surely as he wanted Dave to remain in him.  Dave kissed Carter again.  "'Course I'll stay in."

John mutely nodded and he pushed himself up as far as he could manage on his left arm, careful to not dislodge Dave but also now needing to make room for Dave's hands and whatever it was they were going to do.  John's right hand worked diligently and his breath was coming in short gasps as he felt his orgasm near.

Dave nuzzled Carter's back as he felt Carter move to help him.  "That's great."  He was overwhelmed by a surge of feeling for Carter.  He wanted to protect him, keep him here and safe and touching for as long as possible.  Not let anything bad happen to him.  Kiss him, and cuddle him, and care for him forever.  He knew how much Carter had to want that after he'd just been fucked, and Dave wanted very much to give him that, more than he could remember ever wanting to give anyone.  It was strange, but also good.  Too strange to talk about, but good, very good.  Dave found the top button of the shirt and undid it, then kissed Carter's back again.  "Have this off you in a second."

John nodded again, and then his brain was filled with an image of him standing in the middle of the hockey rink, naked to the world as players skated around him.  Several came near him, but one player kept pushing them out of the way --  Dave.  Always Dave, keeping him safe from the other players -- the other men.  And then John was hanging onto the top of the goal, his legs spread wide as Dave fucked him -- right there in front of everyone, telling them in no uncertain terms that John did, indeed, belong to Dave.  John's cock twitched in his hand and he felt his balls pull up as his vision began to fade.  He made some type of inhuman sound as he felt the explosion approach.

Dave kissed Carter again at the grunt.  He had nothing to say after Carter had just done him, either -- touching was the best thing to do.  He moved onto the next button, knowing what he needed to do for Carter.

It was there -- John felt the small scream tear its way out of his throat as an image of Dave's face danced across his closed eyelids.  His cock tried to escape his hand as it erupted, but John's fingers clenched tightly around it, holding it in check as he came for Dave.

Dave knew that sound, and he knew those movements.  His heart turned to lead, dropped out of his chest, and rolled to a corner of the room.  Carter had just come.  He hadn't come before when Dave fucked him, he hadn't even come when Dave had come, he'd come now, later after it was over.  He would have done anything just now to help Carter feel good and happy in his aftermath.  But there'd been no aftermath.  None.  Dave felt his fingers freeze. 

John's arms trembled from the exertion and he could no longer hold himself up.  But not wanting to lose Dave, he found enough strength to slowly lower his body to the bed, trapping Dave's fingers against his chest.  John wanted to talk -- he was always relaxed after a good bout of love making and being relaxed made him even more talkative, but he knew Dave wasn't always into talking.  It was enough to just lay there, pinned between Dave's hands below him and Dave's body behind him -- and, of course, Dave's cock still inside of him.  With a smile on his face, John rested his cheek against the quilt, feeling quite content.

And...and...Carter had to have been jerking off, doing it to himself, beating his meat all the time Dave was inside him.  He...he'd failed, and then Carter had begun to jerk off, with Dave still inside of him.  Dave felt crushed, incompetent, stupid.  He hadn't even recognised it...all those movements, and noises.  And he'd been *so* sure and...Dave swallowed a lump in his throat and felt very alone.

John felt as if he were floating in air -- Dave had taken him and claimed him, the way it should be, John thought.  And now they were content to just lie there together, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.  And it was making love, he was sure of that.  No one interested in just sex could have kissed him as tenderly as Dave had, even through a shirt.  Dave loved him and he loved Dave and nothing else mattered.  Feeling brave, John decided to risk saying how he felt.  "I love you," he whispered, afraid that speaking out loud would break the moment.

Dave turned his head away, and absurdly felt tears come to his eyes.  This from a guy who'd jerked off after sex because he, Dave, had been so lousy at it.  Hadn't even asked for his help with it.  Oh, no, had just given up and done it himself.  It wasn't Dave's fault.  He knew it wasn't, he just didn't know how to do guys.  He just didn't.  And...and...Dave swallowed a sob that rose unbidden to his throat.  "Tell me how to do it better."

Dave's question took John completely by surprise.  Their lovemaking had been spectacular, so Dave couldn't possibly be referring to that.  "How to do what better?"

"*It.*" Dave released an arm to wave it around the room.  "It.  Fucking."  The crude word was balm to Dave's soul.  Anyone could fuck badly -- it didn't matter.  Didn't matter at all.  "You jerked off.  I fucked up.  Or I didn't fuck up enough or something."

"You were perfect," John said, trying to turn his head to look at Dave without turning his body.  "I'm never disappointed when we're together.  Never.  God, don't ever think that you need to be shown how to make *that* better.  Any better and I wouldn't be able to walk for a week," John couldn't keep from smiling at the way Dave's loving made him feel.

"You had to fucking jerk off, Carter.  It didn't work."

John's smile faltered a bit, but it didn't vanish.  "I usually have to do that when I'm fucked, Dave.  Most guys do.  I do prefer having the guy I'm with getting me off, but you were so into what you were doing, I didn't want to distract you.  I tried to come when you did, I really did, but I just couldn't.  I'm sorry."  He wasn't sure where Dave was going with this train of thought.  Was Dave upset because he hadn't come at the same time?  Was he upset that John hadn't asked him to jerk him off?

"What d'ya mean -- most guys?  You make me come."  He hurled the statement at Carter as if it were an accusation.

John grinned dreamily.  "I know.  It's such a precious gift you give me when you do that.  It also frustrates me when I do you first and then you can't do me afterward."  He reached his arm back, making contact with Dave's skin, which part, John had no idea.  It was enough that it was Dave.  "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to do me.  I was being selfish and only thinking about the fantastic fucking I was getting."

Dave wrinkled his nose.  He had a feeling he was being out manoeuvered somehow.  "Those other guys.  They make you come?"  Even as the question was out of Dave's mouth he regretted it -- he knew that the things he'd done couldn't stack up against guys who knew the score.  They just couldn't.  And he didn't want to hear Carter say it.

"Only by jerking or sucking me off.  And, off the top of my head, I can only recall one time when one of them came while I was doing him.  Like I said, it's not as commonplace as you might think.  It's kinda like those romance novels women read, where the woman has two or three orgasms before the guy is ever in her and then she has another orgasm just when he's coming.  In real life, that just does not happen."  John suddenly grinned.  "Well, not without a lot of work and great timing, anyway."

"But I..." Dave let his voice trail off, he'd come every time Carter was in him.  Every time.  It had just happened.  He couldn't imagine not coming when that happened to him.  It would be the same as not sneezing, not something he could avoid even if he wanted to.

"The first time you came I thought it was a fluke.  But then you kept doing it," John said gently, caressing that bit of skin he was touching.  "It gave me such a thrill to see that I could do that to you; to do that *for* you.  I'm sorry that I disappoint you by not being able to do that for you, too."

Dave gave half a shrug, and did his best to sound magnanimous.  At least none of the other guys had made Carter come either -- that was something.  Quite a lot really.  "It's okay, I guess.  If ya can't, ya can't."  Carter's hand rubbing his leg felt good, but it reminded him of something "But you shouldn't jerk off.  Not when I'm in you."  Dave paused for thought.  "Not any time.  You're mine."

"Sorry.  I wanted to come when you came."  For some reason, having Dave telling him that he could never jerk off because he belonged to Dave was drastically different than when Adam had said the same thing to him.  Adam's words had been about dominance and control.  Dave's words were about possession, and violating Dave's possession made John feel guilty of taking his pleasure.

There was no answer to that.  Not really.  Still Dave tried.  "Shoulda told me you needed it."

John nodded, then found himself thinking.  He knew he had been the first guy to fuck Dave, but he had thought Dave had been with other guys before.  And yet, their conversation was making him doubt his assumptions.  "Dave...not counting me, just how many guys have you fucked?"

Dave shrugged again.  He was a bit wary about answering the question, but right now doing so seemed okay.  It wasn't like Carter was accusing him of anything or saying he'd been terrible.  All the same he wished that more than one hand of Carter's was touching him, or maybe it was better not to have to look at him as he answered.  "Told you before, a couple."

John felt a little surprised.  For some reason he had thought it had been more than that from the way Dave had talked about going to bars and stuff in Grenada and Louisiana.  "What about the bars you went to?"

"You can just drink in a bar, you know?"  But that wasn't an answer and Dave knew it.  He shifted awkwardly.  "Got some hand jobs 'n stuff at first.  And didn't go to any for a while when I got back to the states."  He'd kept clear of them for as long as he could manage -- been determined to start a new life here, and that med school had just been an aberration.

"Oh," John said as his words slowly sank in.  Hand jobs.  Only fucked a couple of guys.  Never been fucked before New Year's Eve.  With a jolt, John realized that he had been dealing with an almost virgin.  He didn't know what to do with a virgin.  Shit!  "Oh," he said, much more emphatically than before.  He wanted to roll over and wrap his arms around Dave and apologize for not realizing things sooner.  God, what if in his fumblings he messed Dave up for good?  He didn't know what to do with a virgin.

*Oh* What did *oh* mean?  Dave waited tensely for another response, but he didn't seem to be getting one.  He suppressed a shiver that began to run up his sweat cooled back.  Someone had to say something.  "So you gotta tell me that stuff.  If you tell me, I'll know...." Did that sound pathetic?  Why wasn't Carter saying anything?  What was happening here?  "Do you want to go?"

"No.  I don't want to go, Dave," John said.  He had been lost in thought when Dave had started talking again.  "I'm just not sure if I know *what* to show you.  I'm not the most experienced guy in the world, but I can do my best to try to remember what my boyfriends did and then show that to you.  Will that be okay?"

Dave wanted Carter's arms about him.  He didn't want to lie here beginning to shiver and on top of Carter -- he wanted to be inside Carter's arms, and maybe under a coverlet, and...."Sure."  Whatever Carter said would be fine.  And he did want to know what to do to Carter, how to make him feel good.  He wasn't so sure about doing the things that other, more experienced, guys had done to Carter -- he wanted to be different and unique and the best.

John was still thinking about how to show Dave everything he needed to know but he slowly became aware of how squished he was feeling, sticky, too.  He also noticed that Dave was starting to shiver.  "Dave?  Would it be all right if we got *under* the covers?"

"Yep."  That would more than suit Dave.  He withdrew from Carter, then took a second to kick his shoes and jeans off before swiveling around to get into the bed.  The sheets were cold against Dave's skin, but he held them open hopefully, wanting Carter to climb under, too.

John got to his knees and finished unbuttoning his shirt, then he tossed it to the floor.  He had to actually get off of the bed in order to crawl under the sheets with Dave, but when he did, he snuggled up next to the man who owned him body and soul, resting his head in the crook of Dave's arm.  John started to draw designs on Dave's belly with his finger.  "You know, for the most part, I just think about what I like and then I do it to someone else.  Most of the time that seems to work."

Dave snuggled up to Carter -- the man was warm wonderfully warm.  "Mmm.  That sounds good."  Carter seemed to know an infinity of things that felt good -- like want he was doing right now.  And in a few minutes the sheets would begin to warm up then lying here with Carter would feel even better.  It felt good to have told Carter, let him know how little he knew.  And Carter didn't seem upset about it or anything.  Very good in fact.  And in a bizarre way he liked the idea that it would be Carter who showed him whatever he was planning.  And he definitely liked it that it was Carter who'd been the first one up him -- not that guy in the Back Yard or anyone else, but Carter.  Dave found it weird just how much he liked that Carter was the only guy who'd been up there.  Dave smiled then dropped a kiss onto Carter's ear.

John lifted his head and smiled.  "Still angry with me over jerking off?"

Dave couldn't be angry right now, he just couldn't be.  And he'd been more angry at himself before for not doing Carter well enough.  Dave didn't answer but took the opportunity to kiss Carter on the lips.

John accepted the kiss as a 'no' and he put all of his feelings into that kiss.  When they broke apart, John smiled.  "I kissed you the way I like to be kissed.  Did you like it?"

Dave smiled back.  "Yeah."  It was strange being double-checked like this, but it felt good, very good.  "I like it when you bite me, too."

John grinned.  "I *love* it when you bite me."  John settled back down at Dave's side.  Maybe he could be a better teacher to Dave than he had been to Lucy.  Feeling confident, John raised up on his elbow and, leaning over, ran his tongue through the hair on Dave's chest, lathing the skin and then circling around a nipple.  Then John latched onto the nub, nipping at it and sucking hard to make it stand up for him.

Dave groaned and grinned.  It wasn't being bitten, but it was spectacular.  Dave put his arms around Carter and held him close.  "You like that too, huh?"

Not letting go of the nipple, John nodded.  And then he heard his cell phone ringing, and he abruptly let go of Dave.  "Shit!  I'm expecting a call from Weaver.  Do you know where my coat ended up?"  John lunged over Dave's body and he was partially hanging off the bed as his eyes scanned the floor for his coat or phone.

"Uh."  Dave didn't have a clue, and having Carter ripped away from him was a rude shock.  After a second he thought.  "Living room?"

"Living room," John repeated as he let his body fall out of bed.  Scrambling to his feet, he rushed into the other room.  His coat had made it to the back of a chair -- not that he even remembered taking it off.  The last ring cut off as he grabbed the coat and John knew that whoever it was had gone to his voice mail.  "Please leave a message," he muttered as he reached into his pocket for the phone.  He glanced quickly at the number, not recognizing it, then he accessed his voice mail and found that it had been Kerry.  "Damn," he said as he heard her voice saying she had gotten his message about needing to come to work late the next day.  Then he smiled as she told him to not worry about what time he got in, that he could take all morning it he needed to.  But his smile faded when her voice took a more serious tone and she told him to make sure he saw her before he started his shift.  Then she hung up.  John closed the phone and dropped it into the chair, wondering just what Kerry had decided about him.  Was she going to fire him?  Tell him to get his ass on the next plane to Atlanta?

Dave padded out to the living room when Carter didn't immediately return.  "What is it?"

John shook off his depressing thoughts.  "Oh, it was Weaver.  She said it was okay with her if I came in late in the morning."  He turned around and smiled at Dave.  "You didn't have to come out of the warm bed just to get me.  I was on my way back."  He walked over to Dave and put his arms around him, taking comfort in the hug, even if he was the one initiating it.

"How did you score that?"  Dave words were slightly muffed by the hug -- but Carter was warm and the night was cool -- and in any case hugging Carter felt good. "She could have picked a better time to tell you."

"I asked her for it.  There's some kind of a problem with my cousin.  I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay?" John looked into Dave's eyes and shivered.  "Right now I'd like nothing better than to just crawl back into your bed."

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Later the next day, next night to be more accurate, John found himself leaning against the wall outside of Dave's apartment.  As much as he had wanted to talk with Dave during the day there had just never seemed to be a right time for it.  First there had been the disastrous visit to see Chase, where his cousin basically threw him out of his room.  Then there was the new diversion program -- and after that all Hell had broken loose with the fire that had consumed a sweatshop that hired illegal aliens.  John had been doing okay with treating patients from that fire until Benton wanted him to give a patient a narcotic.  John had finally gone into the room where Dave was working with Kerry, pulling him out so he could give the patient the needed shot.  And then Benton had started asking questions that John didn't want to answer.  And he kept asking them until he finally found out the answers.  John still didn't know just what Kerry had told Benton.  All he knew was that it had been enough to make Benton behave coldly toward him later.

John could still remember how lame he sounded as he tried to blow off his relapse.  It had sounded hollow and false, even as he said the words he knew Benton didn't believe him.  But coming up against Benton's punishing silence had started John thinking about his addiction and how he had perceived it.  By the time he reached the Kenner Institute, burger, fries and shake in hand, he knew he had to tell Chase the truth about why he had not come to see him.  At first it was going to be a simple admission of how he had felt lacking, given his own drug problems.  But the soliloquy had turned into so much more, and the next thing John knew he was close to tears as he admitted to Chase that he was a drug addict.  Not a recovering drug addict.  Not a former drug addict.  But a drug addict.  It was something that would always be there, marking his soul.  Marking him.  And Chase had been gracious enough to not rub it in.  If he had done so, John would have taken it, knowing he had deserved it after the holier than thou attitude he had taken toward Chase's addiction.  They might have used the drugs for different reasons, but they were still drug addicts.

When John finally left Chase, he had found himself setting foot not in an AA meeting, but at a NA meeting.  He had tended to avoid NA meetings for the most part, mainly because they had always hit too close to the surface.  But tonight he had sought one out.  And he had stood up there in front of everyone else and told them all he was a drug addict.  He told them everything.  Hell, he had taken up almost the whole hour.  No one seemed upset about that, they merely kept handing him tissues to dry his eyes and blow his nose and listened as he talked...and talked, and talked.

He was all talked out.  All cried out, too.  Many people had hugged him, comforting him.  But John needed one more hug.  He needed to be with Dave.  To have Dave hold him without questioning why he was there so late and without asking why he wanted to be held.  While it was true that there were times when John wanted to have serious conversations with Dave, this was not one of them.  This was one time when John would be very glad of Dave's silence.

John pushed off from the wall and went to knock on Dave's door, hoping that Dave was home and awake, although he had no trouble settling for a sleepy Dave if he had to.  All that mattered was that it was Dave.

To be continued