From The Top, 24/33, Malucci/Carter, Rated NC-17
Roberts
"From The Top", Part 24/33
By Clotho (clotho...@hotmail.com) and Cathy (hunter...@yahoo.com)
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Dave loved the feeling of Carter stretching him -- more and more until the
entire redwood was inside him -- and especially the way it felt when Carter
pressed on and scraped against his prostate. It was breathtaking. "God."
Dave tried to tighten his muscles again there but he was still stretching
out. Maybe next time he could manage it.
"You like it when I fuck you, don't you, Dave?" John asked, his voice
nearly a purr. "I can tell you do by the way you move for me. Sucking me
further and further into your body. Soon, Dave, soon I'll be in so far
that my cock will be hitting your tonsils."
"Yeah. Oh, God." Dave did love it. The way Carter went in and out
stretching him, pressing against him, owning him. "You own me." The
redwood went in and out again. "Oh, God." Dave felt himself begin to
really loosen up -- his ass muscles easily expanding and contracting with
each stroke.
"Yes," John agreed. Right then, he did own Dave and Dave owned him. Had
him trapped inside -- and John couldn't think of any place where he'd
rather be trapped. "Forever, Dave. You will belong to me for eternity."
Dave's muscles milked John's cock, eliciting a long moan from his throat.
"All yours." Dave tightened his muscles partway through the next stroke.
"You own me. You fuck me." The trouble, Dave thought, with long and slow
was that it sounded great at the start -- but then you got going and you
wanted longer and faster. "Oh, God."
"No," John replied as he tried his best to keep moving slow. It wasn't
easy because Dave's hips kept bucking toward him and John knew Dave's body
at least, if not Dave himself, wanted to speed things up a bit. "I believe
that you're 'God', Dave."
"Yours." Dave repeated. There was a growing redness behind his eyes, and
a need and urgency. He needed this to be happening, he needed it. He
whimpered as Carter completed another long and so slow stroke. "More.
God." He was hard, very hard, and Carter was inside him, and this should
be perfect, except he needed more and still more.
"As you wish, Dave." John concentrated on speeding his strokes by the
slightest bit, knowing he was getting close to coming. If he moved too
quickly, then he'd come right then and he didn't want that yet.
Dave screwed his eyes tight shut and concentrated on the immense pressure
that Carter was building inside of him -- each pump of Carters added to it,
and added to it. He was getting ever more bloated by each additional
movement. He was full. Full. So full. Full to bursting. And still
Carter kept filling him. In the split second when he knew that bursting
was inevitable he opened his eyes and looked at Carter.
One advantage to the position John found himself in was that he saw Dave's
ball sac start to draw up and he looked up at Dave, their eyes meeting.
"Do you want me to come now?" John asked him, torn between being glad that
Dave was about to gain release and frustrated that he wouldn't get his fuck
own from Dave.
Dave put his arms out -- he needed to hold onto Carter. He needed to grasp
tight hold of him, and hold them together, skin to skin and chest to
chest. He found Carter's hair, and grasped that -- it was better than
nothing.
John was about to suggest that they change positions when Dave grabbed his
hair and pulled his face even closer. The smell of Dave's body and his
taste of his sweat and his come were too much for John and he could feel a
heat begin in his cock and balls. It burned hotter and hotter, turning his
whole world red and then his hips thrust forward, shoving his cock in as
far as it could go and John came, crying out Dave's name.
Dave held Carter close and tight as he felt their sweat cooling. He needed
to be touching now. Touching and cuddling, and inside Carter's arms. He
raked one hand through Carter's hair, feeling it cling to his fingers.
John let loose a ragged sigh against Dave's skin. "God," he said. He
didn't want to move, didn't want to slip out of Dave, but Dave's come was
so tantalizingly close. He stretched his tongue out and lapped at as much
as he could. "I love the way you taste," he said.
Dave recoiled a millimetre as he understood what Carter was doing. He'd
known Carter hadn't spat any out before, but...eating it? But, then, if
Carter liked it that should be good enough -- and he seemed to know an
amazing variety of things to do. Dave relaxed. "Could write a manual."
"About how good you taste?" John grinned. "I most certainly could. Have
you ever tasted yourself, Dave?" John couldn't think of any better place
to be than where he was at that moment. Still inside of Dave, pressed up
close against him, Dave's hand running through his hair and plenty of Dave
to taste. Not quite as good as when he sucked Dave off, but close enough.
Dave shook his head. "'No, 'bout, you know...stuff to do." Now that
Carter was talking taste and food, Dave was beginning to realise that he
was hungry. But he didn't want to move. He wanted to stay right here.
Luckily, if he remembered correctly the pizza boxes had come into the
bedroom last night. "Hold on. Hold tight." Dave reached cautiously
sideways.
"What're you doing?" John asked as he made sure his body remained stuck
like glue to Dave's. "Don't move too much or I'll slip out," John warned.
"Reaching for the...got it." Dave pulled himself back to centre of the
bed "Real food. This'll taste better." He opened the pizza box, and
looked at it. It was a compilation -- there was a good half of the cheese
pizza left, but only two slices of the everything one. After a moment's
thought he grabbed a slice of cheese, deciding to save the everything for
later.
John whimpered slightly as Dave's movements managed to dislodge him. Oh,
well, he thought. It was nearly impossible to stay in there forever. He
scooted up beside Dave, glancing into the pizza box. "Nothing tastes
better than you, Dave. Gimme a piece with everything."
Dave was aware of a sour churning in his stomach when he realised that
Carter had slipped out of him. "Hey, I told ya to hold on." But he passed
Carter the slice of pizza, and started to munch on his own, nestled as
close to Carter as he could manage.
"Thanks." John pressed close to Dave. "I was holding on. You moved
wrong. It's okay. It's kinda hard to keep something limp and slippery
inside after a while." He grinned. "I think though, that if we keep
practicing, then eventually we'll manage it."
Dave nodded. "Gotta." Then applied himself to the pizza, feeling it in
his mouth, and the warmth of Carter lying next to him -- which reminded him
of how cold the rest of him was. As soon as he'd finished the slice of
pizza, he scooted down to bring his bedspread that had made its way to the
base of the bed back up again -- he snagged himself a second slice of
cheese pizza, and cuddled back up next to Carter.
John finished off his slice just as Dave covered them both. He glanced up
at the window. "It's still snowing out there." The radio was still on,
but the volume was low and John could barely hear what was being said. Not
that it mattered. "Think it will snow all day?"
Dave grinned. "It better not. I've got a game this afternoon. Us versus
Thor's Sledgehammers." He wrinkled up his nose. "Stuck up name isn't it?"
"I forgot that you played hockey. I'd love to watch you play," John said.
Then he thought that Dave might be self-conscious over having him there.
"That is, it they let just anyone come in to watch."
Dave turned to look at Carter. It seemed a comfortable idea -- Carter
coming along to see him playing on the rink. It was a game, not a
practice, so there'd be other people there. Right here and now he couldn't
think of a reason not to. "Sure, I guess." But..."Ya don't tell anyone
'bout...this."
John frowned. "Don't tell anyone about me being at your game?"
Dave wiggled, and made time for himself by grabbing his slice of everything
pizza. "'bout this morning 'n stuff. Just friends. Right?" He bit into
the slice a little worriedly.
"Dave, have I ever said anything to anyone about us?" He couldn't believe
that Dave was asking that. John had never even thought about telling
anyone about their relationship. It was still too new, too much theirs and
theirs alone. It wasn't his fault that his grandparents had figured it
out.
Dave shrugged. "Your folks...they're just..." They were the guys, there
was no way they could find out about this. They just couldn't. He didn't
even want to think about it. Dave just wanted this conversation to end, he
didn't know why he'd started it. He turned and kissed Carter on the lips.
As the kiss ended, John tried to smile reassuringly at Dave. "I wouldn't
do anything to make anyone even guess that we're together, okay?" He
reached out and ran his hand down Dave's side. John had thought about
asking Dave to the charity ball, but not now. Not while Dave was spooked
like that. "I'll sit far away from the rink and cheer for everyone on your
team and not just for you, how's that sound?" John asked with a grin. "By
the way, just what *is* the name of your team?"
Dave grinned. "Sounds good, my friend." And it did sound good.
"Wombats."
John burst out laughing. "Wombats? You're the Wombats? And you were
picking on Thor's Sledgehammers?"
Dave sat up, letting a draft of cool air under the covers. "Hey, they've
got sharp claws. Besides some Australian place pays for our uniforms."
"Well, I guess that if you *have* to be called the Wombats, then that's
okay. As long as you didn't pick that name." John reached out and touched
Dave's skin, where come was drying. "I think you need a shower, Mr.
Wombat."
Dave grinned. "It's better than the Blood-red Nailers. Sounds good but
they're sponsored by this beauty parlour."
John burst out laughing again. "You're right about that. Somehow I can't
picture you in a uniform with a drawing of a woman's hand on it."
Dave laughed. "Their uniforms are *pink*. They say they're blood red.
But blood ain't that colour. They're pink."
"And what color is your uniform?" John asked.
"Black, my friend. Black as the darkest night. Deepest, darkest, coolest
black."
John grinned. "Sounds intimidating. So, you ready for that shower yet?"
"Nooooo." Dave would be quite happy lying there all morning, doing nothing
but eating pizza and cuddling. But...there were things to do he supposed.
A day to get on with. "Guess so."
"Well, you wouldn't need one if you would have let me lick you clean," John
teased as he eased out from under the covers on the other side of the bed.
As he started to stand, he could feel the muscles in his back fighting him,
not wanting him to be able to straighten. And when he tried to put weight
on his left leg, he knew that the walk to the bathroom would not be an easy
one. "How about if you get the water started?" John suggested. He didn't
want Dave to see him limping and think that it had something to do with the
sex they had just enjoyed -- even if it did.
Dave sighed -- apparently the lying in bed was officially over. He got out
of bed with as good a grace as he could muster. "Sure thing." If today
was starting then he might as well get on with it. Dave grabbed himself a
few items of clean clothing, then headed through the living room to the
bathroom, turning on the water in the shower-head. It would take a minute
or so to get warm, so Dave took the opportunity to brush his teeth while he
waited. And after a second's thought went to the linen closet to grab a
clean towel for Carter.
John waited until Dave was out of the room before he dared to force himself
to straighten. He bit hard on his bottom lip as his muscles angrily
stretched. Keeping close to the bed in case his leg gave out, John walked
around it. When he found himself across at the bedroom door, he limped
slowly toward his destination and by the time he walked into the bathroom,
he was able to pretend that nothing hurt. "Is the water hot yet?" he asked
Dave.
"Yep." Dave tossed a thickly piled and brightly coloured towel toward
Carter. "Here ya go. Won't be long." Then he stepped into the shower
spray -- running his fingers through his hair to ensure it all got wet
quickly.
John stepped to the rear of the tub and flipped his towel up over the
shower rod. He peeked into the shower and saw that Dave was occupied and
he chose that moment to carefully step into the tub. "Need some help
washing your hair?" John asked from behind Dave.
"What? No." No-one had washed Dave's hair for him for years.
But...Carter knew about things like this -- knew lots of things that felt
good, maybe there was a reason he'd wanted to head for the shower. "If ya
like. Shampoo and stuff is there." Dave pointed towards a rickety plastic
container attached to the wall.
John grabbed the shampoo and then began to work it into Dave's hair,
carefully massaging the scalp. "How's that?"
There were fingers going through Dave's hair -- doing the untangling that
he usually did himself, and rubbing into his scalp. It felt good, very
good. "Mmm," Dave shut his eyes tight against stray tendrils of soap, and
let the warm water run against him from in front, and felt Carter's body
warm behind him. It was very good.
"Okay, step under the spray so I can rinse your hair," John said. He
wanted to keep Dave facing away from him as much as possible until the hot
water started to work on his back and leg. He nudged at Dave's head with
his hands, running his fingers through the wet and soapy hair, feeling
every strand.
Dave moved half a step forward, and obediently ducked his head. Carter's
fingers were adding tingles of excitement to the warmth of the water that
was splashing against Dave. Two different kinds of heat, running together
and intermingling on his skin. Dave knew that if he hadn't come so
recently all this would have been enough to make him hard again.
John kept Dave's head under the spray of water until the hair rinsed
clear. "Okay, step back and I'll finish the job." John applied more
shampoo to Dave's hair, once more carefully working it in. "There's
nothing quite like having someone wash your hair for you, is there?" John
asked. "It's one of the things I like best about going to get my hair
cut."
This was nothing like what happened to Dave when he got his hair cut.
Nothing. Not in the same ball-park. Not in the same universe. And Carter
was at it again -- lathering him up. "Great." Dave wanted to return the
favour. He wanted to make Carter feel this good. "Your turn next."
"My turn? That sounds good. Okay, time to rinse." John gently pushed
Dave's head back into the water droplets.
When it felt like Carter had rubbed every inch of his scalp, and untangled
each hair individually, Dave reluctantly let his head emerge from the
water. He turned around to kiss Carter. "My turn now."
John kissed Dave back. "Sure." John wrapped his arms around Dave and
started to move so that his back would be under the shower. "I think it'll
be easier this way, or am I too tall for you?" John asked. "I could get
on my knees if that would help."
"Guess it'll be fine." Dave didn't really know. He was about to find
out. "Um, get under the spray."
John stepped backward and felt the water splash over him. It was hot, but
not hot enough to suit him. "Mind if I turn down the cold water?"
"Go for it." The shower was plenty hot enough for Dave but if Carter
wanted it hotter, then he could have it hotter.
John turned and had to bend slightly to reach the knob for the cold water
control. He slowly turned it down, gauging the heat of the water as it
pelted his back. By the time he judged it to be hot enough to do him any
good, the cold was nearly turned off. John slowly straightened,
grimacing. But when he turned around to look at Dave, he was smiling,
determined that Dave not see him in pain, "This okay?"
It was HOT. It was more than hot. Dave could imagine his skin going red
wherever a few droplets spattered onto it, and his feet, which had been
standing in water cooled to lukewarm, were now beginning to heat up
uncomfortably, too. "Sure, that's good." Dave hopped from one foot to the
other. He needed to get out of here. "How 'bout breakfast. Could make
some while you're in here?"
"Breakfast?" They had just been eating pizza. John shrugged. "Sure, I
guess that would be good."
"Yokay." Dave jumped out of the shower as fast as he could. And began
toweling himself down -- it didn't do much good at this stage -- but
getting water that HAD been that hot off his skin felt good too. "Um, hot
water tank's not huge. It'll go cold sometime."
The minute Dave had left the shower John had bent over slightly, putting
some of his weight on the inside edge of the tub and letting the water hit
his left flank and leg. "Oh, okay. How long?" John called out.
"Hmm." Dave scrambled into his clothes. "Um. Usually takes about ten
minutes I think. A while." In his jeans, T-shirt and bare feet Dave was
ready to go. "You okay there, big guy?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I won't be long." John slowly lowered himself to the
bottom of the tub until he was on his knees. The hot water stung his skin
but he could already feel it working to loosen his back muscles.
The living area was much cooler than the bathroom, Dave gave an involuntary
shiver then relaxed into the difference. It was pleasant after all that
heat. Now he just needed to make good on his excuse to get out of there.
Breakfast. Okay. A breakfast Carter would like. He walked into the
kitchen, and looked around -- he needed inspiration to strike and fast. He
opened his cupboards at random, until he saw a packet of pancake mix.
Success. He could use that.
John stayed on his knees until he felt the water start to cool. He
reluctantly pulled himself up, then quickly washed his hair and body. By
the time he turned the water off, it was cold. Shivering, John reached for
the towel and he briskly rubbed it over his head to dry his hair before he
even attempted to dry his body. It was a lot easier to step out of the tub
than it had been to step *into* it and John was grateful for that. He was
also grateful for the fogged up mirror over the sink so he wouldn't have to
look at his scars. They were always more vivid when he had endured a very
hot shower and he never liked seeing them when they looked *normal*.
The first pancakes were coming out of the pan. Mr Coffee was pissing out
the good stuff. From the sounds the pipes had been making Carter should be
coming out of the bathroom at any second. Carter. And who knew what
they'd end up doing this morning? Going on impulse, Dave reached into his
cupboard, and grabbed his whiskey bottle, took a long slug of it, returned
it, then grabbed a mug of coffee, and took a slug of that too. It was
okay. He was covered. Officially drunk. It would be okay. Okay as long
as he turned the second set of pancakes in time -- Dave hurriedly returned
to the stove.
As soon as John opened the bathroom door and stepped through he was
assaulted by the aromas of brewing coffee and pancakes. But John avoided
the kitchen and went to the bedroom clad only in the towel, wanting his
overnight bag so he could brush his teeth. They had been forgotten last
night. And that's when John remembered that his bag never made it out of
the living room. "Damn." He pulled off the towel and grabbed the quilt
from the bed, wrapping it around his still shivering body. He returned the
towel to the bathroom, then stepped across to the kitchen. John's stomach
grumbled and he grinned, "I'm starving, is it ready yet?"
Dave grinned, and turned toward Carter, then held the plateful of pancakes
out toward him. "Getting that way." He gestured toward the bowl of
mixture. "While to go though."
"How about the coffee?" John walked over to the coffee maker, glad to see
that it was done. "Cups?"
Dave pointed toward a cupboard. "In there." Then he deftly turned the
pancakes of batch number two out onto the plate, and poured number three
into the pan.
John grabbed a mug and took a small sip of the hot liquid. "That's good.
Guess I had better get dressed so I can help you set the table or
something. Don't even think of asking me to help you cook," he said with a
grin as he headed out of the kitchen with his coffee.
Table? What table? Dave grinned. Carter wasn't going to find a dining
table around here no matter how hard he looked. Still, coffee and pancakes
would be a good breakfast no matter where you ate them.
John went to grab his bag and he noticed a few framed pictures on the
bookcase near it. Funny how he hadn't paid attention to them before, but
then, the last time he was in the living room his attention was occupied.
The first was a snapshot that showed a younger Dave, definitely in his
teens, and a guy who was almost an older version of Dave. That had to be
his brother Mike, he thought. Not quite as good looking as Dave ended up
being, but the family resemblance was there. The other photo was of Dave
at his college graduation, standing beside an older man and they were both
grinning at the camera. Dave's dad perhaps? If so, then Dave and Mike
took after their mother. John took the photo and went back to the
kitchen. "Who's the guy in the picture with you? Your old man?"
Dave looked down at the photo, and almost dropped the bowl of pancake
batter. Him and Father Frank on the day of his college graduation --
Father Frank had hugged him, and said how proud he was of him. He'd said
it and meant it, hadn't been sarcastic or joking or drunk or anything. And
then he'd gestured toward the photographer circulating in the throng and
said that he wanted a photo of them together. It had been a good day. A
very good day. Dave swallowed. "Um, a priest from when I was a kid."
John searched his memory for a moment, then remembered Dave saying
something about a priest. He nodded. "Father Frank, right? You mentioned
him before. But this is your college graduation, Dave. I'd hardly say you
were a kid then. The other framed picture out there, that's Mike, right?"
"Yeah, Father Frank." Dave looked up and saw Carter dressed in only Dave's
bedspread -- not something Father Frank would approve of -- at all. He was
glad of the whiskey, but it just wasn't enough. "Get dressed, Carter.
Breakfast's nearly ready." Well, it was maybe half ready -- but..."Yeah,
the other one's Mike. Good isn't it? He looks happy."
"Yeah, he does. So, do you stay in touch with Father Frank?" John held
the framed photo carefully as he tried to hold the quilt closed and get a
drink of his coffee.
"Not really. Kinda lost contact in med school." Dave stirred the pancake
batter, and looked away then continued, "After Mom died, 'n all there
wasn't much reason to go home." Especially since after that party and the
things he'd done with that guy he didn't want to face up to Father Frank
again, and he definitely didn't want to confess to him. No how, no way.
Nothing to go home for. Not now. Dave stirred the batter vigorously.
"Your mom is dead? I'm sorry. You never mentioned it before. What about
your dad, is he still around?" John finally just put the photograph on the
counter as he didn't trust himself to not drop it.
"Caught a bullet meant for some gangbanger." That was enough of an
explanation. It had to be. Dave flipped the pancakes out and poured a
quantity of over-beaten mixture into the pan.
"I'm sorry." There wasn't much else to say to something like that. John
saw death like that every day, but not with someone he knew. He took a
long drink of the coffee and put the mug on the counter, then picked up the
photo. "I guess I'd better get dressed." John released the quilt long
enough to grasp Dave's shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze to let Dave
know that he really was sorry about his mom.
Dave stood there, feeling Carter touch his shoulder. It was good that he
wasn't saying anything - there was nothing really to say - Dead was Dead at
least in this world. He stood there until the pancake was ready to flip,
then shrugged. "Yeah, you better."
John turned to go, then thought of something. He remembered how hard it
had hurt when his apartment building had burned down, taking all of his
photo albums with it -- pictures of Bobby and the rest of his family. The
greatest gift Chase had ever given him was a photo album with copies of old
pics in it. It was a shame that Dave didn't have a picture of parents and
more of his brother and the rest of his family. "So, this priest, Father
Frank, does he still work in your old church?" If Father Frank still
worked in New York, then John could find a way to track him down and maybe
see about getting copies made of some old pictures for Dave. It wasn't
much of a present, but it would be something that Dave could have for the
future.
Dave nodded, glad of a different topic. "Yep, guess so. Sure I'd have
heard if he left."
"Okay," John headed back to the living room and carefully put the photo
back where he had found it. He lightly touched the framed snapshot of Dave
and Mike. "It would really be nice to have more happy pictures here," John
softly said. Then he picked up his bag and headed back to the bathroom to
brush his teeth and comb out his now tangled hair.
To be continued