Please see Part 1 for disclaimers and archiving information.

"From The Top", Part 31/33
By Clotho (clothomoerae@hotmail.com) and Cathy (huntersglenn@yahoo.com)

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Dave loved the feeling of Carter's tongue in his mouth, invading it,
claiming it.  Wandering all through it.  It was where Carter's tongue
belonged.  Dave screwed his eyes shut so he could concentrate on how it
felt to have Carter touch his teeth and his palate and...Dave lifted his
own tongue so it could interact with Carter's and massage it and feel it.

As their kiss intensified, John could feel Dave's hardness through his
pants.  He thrust his hips up, bumping against Dave's erection, offering
himself even as their tongues wrestled for supremacy in Dave's mouth.  But
John needed to have Dave inside of him.  All of Dave inside of him.  He
slowly pulled his tongue back into his own mouth, luring Dave's as it went.

Dave followed Carter's tongue.  It seemed that, like Carter's cock, was
something he couldn't get enough of.  Carter tasted of cinnamon and
sweetness.  It seemed to be a very Carter flavour.  Dave put his elbows
above Carter's shoulders to bear his weight more easily and so this kiss
could last just as long as possible.

Once Dave's tongue was in his mouth, John tightened his lips around it,
trapping it even as he began to suck hungrily upon it.  He knew that sooner
or later they'd have to come up for air and he wanted Dave to know just how
much he wanted him before that had to happen.  And so he sucked on it, and
pressed against it with his own tongue, reminding Dave of what he could do
to another part of Dave's body with his tongue if Dave just said the word.
He would gladly suck Dave off and return the pleasure Dave had just given
him.  But he'd much prefer having Dave's cock buried deep inside.  As
deeply inside of him as he was now sucking Dave's tongue.

Dave saw spots forming in front of his eyes.  He needed air.  But he needed
to be touching Carter even more.  His cock was aching for contact.  It
seemed totally unfair that in order for that to happen this had to stop.
Totally unfair.

John slowly pulled off of Dave's tongue and they both gasped for much
needed air and John suddenly decided that he wouldn't be happy just sucking
Dave off.  "Fuck me," he begged.  "I need you so far in me that you'll
never find your way out."

Dave pulled his legs together on top of Carter -- then began to slowly
wiggle down him -- waiting expectantly for the legs to part for him.  He
needed this, needed it badly.  He couldn't have stopped the kiss, but now
it was over the only place to be was up Carter's ass.

As Dave moved down his body John spread his legs as wide as he could.  The
feel of Dave's sweater made John's skin tingle as it first drew across his
now tender nipples and then over his chest and little sparks of pleasure
danced before John's eyes.

When Dave reached his destination he abruptly realised there was a
problem.  His pants.  His thick, bulky pants.  He quickly rose up onto his
knees and with a minimum of fumbling pushed them far enough down.  His
released cock sprang outwards from its confinement -- eager to be buried
somewhere even tighter.  But ..."Lube...?"

"Don't need it," John said, his eyes glued to Dave's magnificent cock.  He
reached down and grasped it tightly, admiring it.  Then he realized that
with his pants only half down, Dave was going to be limited with his
movements.  And there were some things they hadn't tried yet.  With his
free hand John reached behind his head and pulled out the pillow, tossing
it to Dave. "Put it under my hips," John instructed as he raised his hips
in the air.  "Then fuck me. Claim me as yours all over again, Dave."

Dave didn't want to hurt Carter again.  He could still remember that first
morning.  But being surrounded by Carter in as few seconds as possible
mattered.  Mattered a lot.  "You sure?" he muttered as he manoeuvered the
pillow under the hips.

John nodded as he settled his hips on the pillow.  To not be sure would
mean that Dave would leave the bed to look for the lube and he had no idea
where they had left it the night before.  It was more important to keep
Dave on the bed.  "I can take you, Dave."

A shadow of doubt lingered in Dave's mind.  But Carter was the one who knew
how this worked.  All the same he didn't want to hurt Carter again.  He
didn't.  He reached down and found some of Carter's come -- it was on his
sweater and Carter's belly.  He used it to coat his hard dick, and then
used some to lubricate Carter himself.  Carter was amazingly relaxed -- one
finger went in without a hitch and two were barely more difficult -- maybe
Carter'd been right about not needing this at all.  Dave positioned his
cock head outside Carter's entrance.  "You are about to be royally fucked,
my friend."

Even though he was sure he was ready for Dave, John couldn't help but heave
an inward sigh of relief as he watched Dave lubricate himself -- and with
John's come, no less.  That very fact sent a shiver up John's spine.  And
when those fingers slipped so easily inside of him, John moaned.  Then he
grinned at Dave's observation.  "So now you've gone from being 'Caveman
Dave' to 'King Dave', have you?  Yes, I'm ready for a royal fuck.  Are
you?"

Dave's answer was to push himself inside Carter.  He tried to take it
slowly -- but he'd been needing and wanting this since he woke up that
morning, and that was a very long time ago, and Carter was warm and damp
and soft and firm and...Carter.

John drew in a sharp breath as Dave's large cock-head broached him.  He had
known it would hurt a little bit, but he didn't care.  Not as long as the
end result was that Dave was inside him.  Stretching him and reshaping his
guts so that only Dave's cock would ever fit there.  There was a slight
burning sensation as John thrust his hips to impale himself upon that
beautiful cock.  John looked up at Dave's face, wordlessly seeking out his
eyes and giving him the okay to thrust.

Dave grinned down at Carter.  "Who owns you?"  He pushed himself slowly
inside, and repeated the question.  "Who owns you?"

"You own me," John replied.

"Who owns your ass?  And your cock?  And your chest?  And your nipples and
your mouth and your tongue?"

Dave's cock was causing fireworks to go off in John's brain.  "God, you
do.  You know you do.  No other man will ever touch me."

Dave withdrew and began another thrust.  "Who owns every breath you
breathe, and every thought you think?"

"You do," John answered as his hips moved in sync with Dave.

Dave's control wore thin.  "You're mine."  Out, then in again.   "Mine.
Mine.  Mine."

A strangled 'yes' came from John's throat as the force of Dave's thrusts
took his breath away.  "Fuck me, own me.  Harder, Dave."

Carter's body was white underneath Dave's.  He moved harder and faster,
seeing Carter as a snowflake that he had to melt through friction alone.  A
huge, soft, firm, warm, cold, white, flushed entity that he caught and
owned for a millisecond before it decomposed.  Beautiful and unobtainable
and desirable.  And harder and faster and harder and faster.

John began to wildly buck his hips, his one intention to make Dave come.
To have Dave flood his belly with his come.  To own him.

Dave flushed.  And his eyes went red.  And he came and came and came.  And
collapsed down on Carter's chest.

As Dave's body stiffened, John wrapped his legs his legs around Dave's
back, locking his ankles and trapping him.  "And now you're all mine," John
whispered as he ran his fingers through Dave's hair.  "All mine."

*******************************************

Dave looked at his watch.  10 past.  The game started in 25 minutes.  The
game that would see the Giants, the New York Giants, win the Super Bowl.
It would be a good game.  A great game.  A fantastic game.  It was a game
he had no intention of missing.  So...he looked around everyone at else at
the admit desk,  "I'm going for a burger from Docs -- anyone else want
something?"

"Don't spend all your cash, Dave," John said, grinning.  "I'm expecting my
hundred bucks at the end of the game.  But, yeah, a cheeseburger and
chocolate shake would be great."  John reached into his pocket and pulled
out a five dollar bill.

Dave grinned, and took the money.  "In your dreams, my friend.  The Giants
are going to stomp on those puny seagulls -- just you wait."  He smiled at
Carter, then abruptly twisted around to look at the others -- he couldn't
smile too much, that would be suspicious.  "Anyone else?  Jerry?   Chuny?"

John just laughed back, watching as Dave collected orders and money from
the others.  "We'll see who's dreaming, Dave, when the game ends and the
Ravens have beaten the puny munchkins into the ground."

"Huh."  Dave turned to face Carter.  "You're only supporting the sparrows
because the Giants are MY team."  And with that he left the area and
trotted over the road.

Docs was nearly empty, but Dave was sure that every sports bar that had a
decent TV would be packed.  He gave the order to the waitress and looked
around impatiently.  "You need a TV in here."  He was missing the pre-game
show.  It wasn't as important as the game itself -- and he knew somewhere
in the back of his mind that he'd be lucky if he got to see even a third of
the game while he was on shift, but the video in his apartment was
recording it for posterity, and..."You *really* need a TV in here."

After Dave left, John went back to the chart review he had been doing.  So
far it was slow, but that was because the game hadn't started.  People
hadn't drunk enough beer yet to get rowdy.  Hadn't gotten angry at the
officials' calls in the game.  And the game wasn't over, so there were no
fights yet over the outcome.  And there'd be no fights when he collected
his bet from Dave -- or when Dave collected his bet from him.  John was
very glad he was seated so that no one could see the way his cock had
sprung to life at the idea of winning OR losing the bet.  As John tried to
ignore his arousal, he found that time passed quickly because the next
thing he knew, Dave was walking through the door.

"Just in time, Dr. Dave," Jerry said.  "The game is about to start.
Where's Malik?  Did anyone see where he disappeared to?  He's got money
riding on this game, too."

Dave grunted as he distributed the food.  "He knows where the TV is."   Dave
grabbed himself a wheelchair so he could watch in comfort.  He glanced over
at Carter then quickly looked away -- he wanted to see the look on Carter's
face when he realised that really, really, good things could come from New
York.  It seemed very important.  But his cheeseburger was also important,
and he bit into the satisfyingly thick food and listened intently to the
tinny commentary coming from the small TV.

John pushed the charts aside, then unwrapped his cheeseburger.  From where
he was seated, he could be comfortable *and* be able to see everyone.
Which made it easy to watch Dave watch the game.  And it made it easy to
watch Dave eat, too.  Of course, he and Dave were taking up two of the ER's
wheelchairs, but it wasn't their fault that the wheelchairs were the most
comfortable places to sit.  At least they were for John.  He grinned as the
teams lined up for the coin toss and heard Dave cheering the Giants on
already.

Dave was willing the coin to come down in the Giants favour when there was
a cold draught behind him.  He turned and looked, and was on his feet in a
second.  A man had come in carrying a small girl who was bleeding
everywhere.  "Get a gurney."  Even as Dave spoke one was there.

John was on his feet in an instant, grabbing a gown and hurrying behind
Dave and the gurney into the trauma room.  "Someone find Cleo," John called
out, "and get x-ray in here."  He looked up at the man.  "You her father?"

"Yes," the man replied, his voice trembling.  "I've told her and told her
not to run in the dining room.  My wife's mother died and she inherited all
her china and the old cabinet that it was kept in.  Junk if you ask me, not
very stable.  But my wife wouldn't hear of getting rid of it because it was
her mother's.  So, I told the kids to stay away from it, but Janie here,
she kept running in there.  And I was watching the pre-game show and my
wife's at work, and I heard Janie carrying on.  I had just called out,
kinda automatically like, you know, 'Janie, quit that damn running', and
then I hear this crash and I rush in there and she's covered with glass and
wood and that damn china.  All I could think to do was to get her here.  We
live just a few blocks away and I figured it would be quicker."

"Okay."  John nodded. "She's here now and we can treat her.  But we need
you to wait in chairs, okay?  You can call your wife from there."  He hoped
like Hell that the girl hadn't injured her spine when the china cabinet
landed on her.  With her father moving her like that...well, it wasn't a
good thought.

"Okay, collar, and..." Dave rolled into the familiar routine of a trauma.
It didn't seem to be as exciting as it had initially.  As Janie was cleaned
up it became apparent that most of the cuts were superficial -- something
any med student would be able to handle.

John stepped back when Cleo came in, later followed by Peter Benton.
Benton was colder than usual and John took that as a sign that he was not
yet back into the mans good graces.  He took off his gloves and gown,
looking back once to see Dave still standing there, helping out.  They all
had it covered.  All Janie needed were stitches, but John couldn't give her
anything for the pain, so he was rather useless to Janie unless he had
someone else administer the shot.  With a sigh, John returned to the admit
area.  The least he could do was give Janie's father an update, he
thought.  The man had been so worried.

At least that's what John had thought until he got out there and saw the
man standing in front of the desk, his eyes glued to the television and the
game.  It was just a stupid football game and the man couldn't stay away
from it long enough to be worried about his own child.  John shook his head
in disgust, then decided to just ignore the man.  He grabbed his food and
went into the lounge to sit at the table in there.

Dave wanted to know the score.  He wanted to know IF there was a score.  He
was good at stitching.  Hell, he was great at stitching.  Janie would be
left with something between little and no scars when he was done with her.
But he wanted to know the score.  He wanted to know the Giants were
winning.  And somehow he'd been left here with a groggy grade-schooler on
Super Bowl Sunday when HIS team was playing.  Sometimes life sucked.

John glanced at the lounge TV set from time to time, but the game didn't
really register with him.  There had been a score, but he wasn't sure which
team had made the touchdown.  And some to-do over a call one of the
officials made that cost the Giants a touchdown.  So, when John was
finished eating, he stood in front of the TV long enough to figure out the
score.  Once he saw it, he grinned, then went to find Dave, who had been
left the task of stitching up little Janie, or so Chuny said.

"What?  You're still in here?" John asked, grinning as he stepped into the
suture room.  No need for Janie to take up space in the trauma room, he
supposed.  He looked over Janie's stitches.  "Nice job.  Guess you weren't
joking around when you said plastics wanted you."

"Sure wasn't."  Dave grunted as he put the last stitches in.   "And I am
done here."  He grinned at the kid then up at Carter.  "Time to see the
Giants creaming the sparrows."

"Daddy says it's the *Ravens* playing the Giants."

"Your daddy thinks the birds are scarier than they really are."

"Daddy says they're going to win."

"Your daddy is wr..." Dave just managed to restrain himself.

John laughed.  "Her daddy is very much right.  The Ravens are winning right
now, seven to zip.  Zero, Dave.  The New York Giants are nothing but a big,
fat zero."  John said.

"See," Janie stuck out her tongue at Dave.  "I tol' ya."

Dave made a face at Janie.  "Want stitches in your tongue too?"  And began
to chase her outside to where her father waited.  He was sure Carter had
lied, was just trying to rile him.  The Giants were THE team, they couldn't
lose.

Still grinning, John followed Dave to the admit area, where Janie's father
was blithely assuring her that, yes, the Ravens were winning.  John walked
up behind Dave. "I tol' ya," he whispered to him.

Dave made a face at Carter.  Then went to stand close to the TV and check
the action out for himself.  He recieved a roll of bandages in the back of
his head for his pains.

"Get down."

Dave turned and looked at Malik who'd thrown them.  "What's the score?"

"Seven nil to the Ravens."

It didn't sound any better when Malik said it.  No better at all.  Dave
looked round and rescued his half-eaten burger and took a bite to comfort
himself.  "They'll win.  Just you wait."

"Dr. Dave is right," Jerry said.  "The Giants would have had a score but
the ref cheated 'em out of it.  They had it man, but got caught on a
technical penalty."

"They were holding, man," Malik said.  "The replay showed it plain as day,
so quit your griping."

"Hope you have your hundred bucks, Malucci," John said as he used his foot
to push a wheelchair in Dave's direction.  "Cause I am collecting it the
second they declare the Ravens the winners."

"The sparrows are NOT going to win."  Dave turned his attention to Jerry.
Sometimes the big guy really knew what was happening.  "What?  What
happened?"  So what if he was able to figure it out from the comments, he
needed to know for *sure*.  "The ref cheated?"

"The ref didn't cheat.  The Giants were holding, plain as day and one of
them caught a pass, intercepted it for a TD, but it was called back," Malik
said.

Jerry shrugged.  "It didn't look like holding to me."

"Yeah, and that's why you're an NFL ref instead of a desk clerk, right?"
Malik teased.

"Just learn to live with it, Dave," John said.  "The Ravens are going to
beat the Giants into the ground.  The Giants can't handle the pressure.
They're choking big time."

"Are not.  Giants are a city team.  Don't choke under pressure."   Dave
wanted to see a replay of the pass and touchdown.  He needed to see it.
"Cheating ref."

John laughed. "You didn't even see it.  Just stick around until half time.
I'm sure they'll replay it, just to show how poorly the Giants are
playing."

"Are not."  It was hard to defend a team that Dave hadn't really seen in
action, but Dave had to do it.  "Look at those sparrows.   A bunch of
wusses.  GO Giants."

Chuckling, John looked over at Jerry. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last
night, so I'm going to go take a nap while it's quiet.  What's open?"

"Hmm.  Kovac's in Exam 1 taking a nap, so any of the others are open,"
Jerry replied.  "But you can't take a nap.  The Super Bowl is on.   You'll
miss it."

"That's okay.  You all can wake me if a miracle happens -- like the Giants
scoring."  John called over his shoulder as he headed for Exam 2 and a
little shut-eye.  He really didn't care one way or the other about the
game, and he had thought about pretending to be into it.  But then he
figured that it would bother Dave *more* if he showed he didn't care.  And
bothering Dave was far more important than letting Dave think he was really
into the game.  Truth was, he was a hardcore Chicago Bears fan and no other
team mattered to him.

Dave looked at Carter in disbelief as he left -- then flipped his attention
back to the TV screen.  Carter couldn't just not watch the game.  He
couldn't.  It was the Giants' chance at glory.  It was...."Carter come back
here...."  Carter couldn't have a hundred bucks and...and that other
stuff...riding on a game he wasn't even going to watch.

"I'm tired, Dave.  I have no stamina right now.  I'm going to *need*
stamina later," John said, not looking back.

Dave shut up and folded into a chair.  He couldn't believe that Carter had
just said *that* -- and in front of everyone.  He glanced at the others but
they didn't seem to have noticed.  Shit.  Maybe he was lucky then.  But
Carter shouldn't say things like that.  He just shouldn't.  Dave forced a
bit of burger into his mouth so he couldn't need to say anything.  It was
stone cold, but better than talking.

John settled onto the bed and closed his eyes.  But sleep eluded him.
Every time he would get close to drifting off, he'd hear a loud cheer or
heckle from the admit area, or else he'd have visions of Dave.  Visions of
Dave having his way with him, demanding full payment for the bet.  Or
visions of him having his way with Dave, demanding full payment for the
bet.  As tempting as it was to jerk off, John knew he couldn't.  For one
thing, it was exam 2.  For another, the only hand that could do that to his
cock happened to belong to Dave, and he was pretty sure that Dave wouldn't
step away from the game just to make him come.  Although the idea was a fun
one to fantasize about, John thought.

To be continued