Author/pseudonym: Clotho & Cathy
Email address: clothomoerae@hotmail.com and huntersglenn@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Status: 3/8
Pairing: John Carter/Dave Malucci
Date: May 20, 2001
Archive: Not without permission. The story and its prequel, "Bottoms Up", can be found at Clotho's fanfic site http://home.talkcity.com/antennaav/fatespinner/ and at the Carterfics site http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Boutique/7087/
Category: "E.R."
Disclaimer: "ER" and all its characters belong to Warner Bros. No infringement of their copyright is intended. This story was written for the enjoyment of "ER" fans everywhere, and may be downloaded for your own pleasure. We owe a huge "Thank you" to Alice and Melissa, our wonderful editors. We couldn't have done it without the two of you!
Summary: It's New Year's Day - the morning after the night before. Contains spoiler for Season 7.
John sat there a few more minutes, then got to his feet and headed downstairs. He was halfway down when he heard the faint ringing of his cell phone from his room. He stopped, debating about whether or not to rush back to his room to answer it. Finally he did turn around, only to have the phone stop ringing when he was halfway there. Probably went to his voice mail. John had just turned around to go to the pool room when the phone rang again. This time he reached it in time.
"John Carter," he answered, as he walked out of the room with the phone. No reason why he couldn't talk and look for Dave at the same time.
"John, it's Adam. I wanted to know if you wanted to get together later this morning."
Adam? What was Adam doing calling him? "Adam, I....."
"Look, I know you feel bad about what happened last night, John. I can forgive the fact that you enjoyed it when that guy fucked you. Hell, it turned me on just watching him do you. And I can forgive you for running out on me and then coming to his rescue. You wanted him again. So, did it work? Did rescuing him make him willing to fuck you again? I'm sure you were fully dressed if he did."
John headed down the hallway and walked into the pool room. "Is there a point to this call, Adam?" No sign of Dave, although Dave's clothes were still there. That was good. Meant Dave was still in the house somewhere. "I've got to go." John hung up the phone, then sat down on one of the lounge chairs to await Dave.
The phone rang again and John immediately answered it. "Hello?"
"You hung up on me."
"Adam, go away. I don't want to see you anymore, okay?"
"No, it's not okay. Look, I made a small mistake last night, but face it, John, who else is gonna treat you as good as I do? You're not going to find many men willing to take flawed goods."
"I'm not flawed goods, Adam. Dave doesn't mind the scars. Now please quit calling me."
"He ran off on you, didn't he? I can hear it in your voice. Probably fucked you and ran."
John shook his head, even as he knew in his heart that Adam was right. "No, Dave didn't just fuck me and run."
*********************
With the other men that Dave had met in gay bars there had been no *tomorrow*. This was longer than he'd ever stayed. Hell, he'd never even stayed before - or gone for that matter - just some anonymous place that was close. He'd fucked a couple of them in Grenada - far, far away; and done some less serious shit with others. No tomorrow. Never a tomorrow. Maybe no-one ever stayed. Maybe he should have left as soon as he woke up.
Sitting in a fancy room full of flowers wasn't solving anything. He needed to find his clothes and go. Dave opened the nearest door and walked through it. It led into a small room full of wicker furniture with windows that looked to the East. The sun was just rising on New Year's Day, but somehow it felt like the end of the world.
Dave didn't have a clue about how he was going to deal with Carter over the next few weeks. He'd have to, he knew that. But he'd told him everything - how much he'd been wanting him, how he'd never bottomed before, tried him - not good enough - probably on to the next toy-boy in the queue.
Next room, a corridor. Okay, not on to the next toy-boy in the queue. Carter had said last night he hadn't been with many men recently. He was being discarded specially. A drug-dealing low-life was good enough, but he wasn't.
He'd be good enough if Carter showed him how to be though. He'd sounded happy enough about the sex just now - when he was copying what Carter did last night.
Not being good enough really, really sucked.
He'd been here before, this was the corridor he'd come along earlier before finding the room with flowers - try somewhere else. Across the corridor.
Dave squinted into the gloom, trying to make out the shapes. It was dark in here after the earlier sunny rooms. Bingo. The pool room. His clothes were somewhere in here. Muscle shirt and jeans and shorts and sneakers and socks - no, the socks were upstairs. Carter could give them to charity or something, he wasn't going back. All he had to do was find the clothes. Somewhere near a chair he thought.
Dave heard a phone ring somewhere in the gloom of the room. Then heard Carter speak. He didn't want to talk to him. Maybe he could just grab his clothes while Carter was busy.
Then heard Adam's name and ground his teeth together. He had no right to be ringing Carter, not now, and not ever. Not after he'd tried to feed Carter's drug habit. At least Carter was trying to get rid of him, that was something.
Dave walked toward Carter and the phone - even if he wasn't good enough he'd make sure that low-life never bothered Carter again. Carter was mentioning his name, giving him as an excuse - that was something. Not much, but something.
Dave reached Carter, and snatched the phone from him. "Listen to me, you scum-sucking, black-hatted, drug-dealing low-life. Carter's having nothing to do with you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Get used to it, and go away." Dave cut the connection, then put his back to Carter as he gathered up his clothes. "You can do better than him."
John was taken by surprise when the phone was snatched from his hand. He sat there, his mouth slightly open as Dave told Adam off. But then Dave wouldn't face him. He was simply getting his clothes. And that last comment stung. John knew he had done far better than Adam when Dave didn't look repulsed from the scars. But, obviously, Dave didn't feel that way. "I...I'm sorry. Dave...please? Don't leave me. Please don't leave like this."
Dave shook his head. "You want me to leave. You picked that fight, not me."
Damn him, John thought. Why wouldn't he turn around? "Look at me, Dave. Please look at me."
Dave turned his head slightly, still not looking at Carter, but not directly away either. "But don't you EVER go back to someone who tries to feed you drugs. Never."
"I would never go back to him because I don't care about him. But you don't want to hear that, do you? Go on and get dressed. I'll call you a cab so you can get out of here. Get away from me. I'm sorry I was such a fuck-up and a disappointment to you, Dave. I never wanted to lose what little friendship we had."
"We're still friends?" That was the best news Dave had had since Carter pushed him away.
"If that's all I can get from you, then yes, we can still be friends," John sadly said. He looked down at his knees, knowing he couldn't bear to watch Dave walk out the door despite what he had just said about calling a cab for him. But, it was obvious that Dave didn't want to stay.
"All you can get? What do you want from me?"
"I wanted you. I wanted...you to want me enough to share things with me. But you don't want to talk with me. So, we can forget about trying to have a...a relationship beyond friendship and just stick with being friends. I had a great time with you, Dave. Every single bit of it. You were a wonderful lover."
Dave turned to face Carter fully. "That's a load of crap. I did stuff, and you didn't like it. And you just stopped me. Didn't say how to do better or anything. You just stopped me."
John looked up at Dave, wondering why he sounded so angry. "I liked everything you did. Well, I didn't like it when you didn't use the lube, but I've liked everything else you've done. What gave you the idea I didn't like what you were doing?"
"No, you didn't. Your balls. Soon as I touched them, it was *hands off* you're no good. And," Dave shrugged suddenly deflated, "it was the best I could do."
John was thoroughly confused. "What? When did that happen? I *never* said you were no good."
"You didn't need to. Everything you did said it for you."
John felt even more confused. It was as if he and Dave were talking about two different encounters. Getting to his feet, he said, "When? When did I do something to show you that you were no good? I swear, Dave, that I never once thought that about you."
"I just said." Dave shook his head, this was going nowhere. "Fuck this." He was getting lost inside all this talking, cut to the chase. "Do you want me to stay or not?"
"If I wanted you to go, then I never would have brought you here in the first place. But, you do what you want, Dave. Stay or go as you please. I've done everything I know how to do to make sure you felt as much pleasure as possible." John looked up at Dave, not sure what it was that Dave wanted him to say or do now. He was so completely lost with whatever it was that Dave was trying to say. Maybe he wasn't disgusted with him. Maybe he was just shy, but John had never known Dave Malucci to be shy.
Dave got lost inside Carter's long sentences; ifs and buts and maybes - he wanted a plain answer. "Is that yes or no?"
"Yes," John's voice was nearly a whisper, then he more loudly said. "I want you to stay. Give me a chance to make it up to you, okay?"
Yes, the answer was *yes*. Dave felt inexplicably pleased. Carter would touch him again. His muscles would turn to Jello again. And maybe, he'd get things right, and turn Carter to Jello too - eventually. But right now, he was getting to stay, and that was enough. "Fine. What's for breakfast?"
John slowly shook his head, not sure what to make of Dave's quick change in mood and topics. How could Dave go from discussing how much a failure John was at making Dave feel good to asking about breakfast so quickly? "Breakfast? You want breakfast? We were talking, Dave. Don't you think we
should keep talking?"
All talking did was create arguments. If Dave hadn't asked Carter how to do stuff right maybe they'd still be playing in bed. "No."
"No?" John laughed a little, but there was no joy in that laugh. "Fine. Breakfast. I'll show you the kitchen and you can help yourself. I'm going to shower."
Dave didn't want Carter to shower. It had been the shower that Carter had gone to after he'd pushed Dave off. There was a roomful of water right here - water that they could play in, not shower water that would wash Dave off of and out of Carter. He shrugged. "Whatever."
There was that word again. John was beginning to hate the word "whatever," especially the way Dave said it. "Whatever? Is that all you can say? Whatever? You know what? You can find the damn kitchen on your own." John went to walk by Dave, but Dave didn't seem to want to let him pass. John pushed harder and the next thing he knew, Dave was in the Jacuzzi. Which now had cold water in it and not the bubbling hot water from last night. "Guess you wanted a bath after all, huh?"
Dave was upright a second after hitting the water. It was cold! He reached up, and grabbed Carter, pulling him in too.
John tried to stay out of the water, but Dave had leverage against him. "Damn," John said as brought his head back above water. "It's cold in here."
Dave spotted a bar of soap sitting outside the spa, and scrambled out to get it. "You want to get clean? Fine, you'll get clean."
John made his way to the other side of the Jacuzzi, reached out to the wall and flipped a switch, turning on the water heater. The air and water jets engaged immediately, and John eyed Dave and soap warily. How was he going to explain soap bubbles in the Jacuzzi to his grandparents?
On his way back Dave grabbed his discarded muscle shirt to use as a washcloth. He jumped back in. It was still damn cold the second time - his dick was a limp dishrag. "Give me your foot."
"Give you my what?" John asked as he settled down onto one of the bench seats closest to where he knew the hot water would emerge first.
"Your foot." Dave dove down, and grabbed one. He ran the bar of soap hard across the sole. "Your foot." He rubbed the soap on the shirt, then pushed the material between each of Carter's toes in turn. And then across the top, and around the ankle. "Other foot."
"That tickles," John laughed as he tried to pull his foot out of Dave's grasp. "Are you planning to wash *all* of me?"
Dave ignored the question - he didn't know what he was planning, he just knew that Carter wasn't getting anywhere near that shower. "Other foot," he repeated. He wasn't going to let this one go before he had something else to hold onto.
John lifted his other foot up so Dave could grab it. *This* was the Dave Malucci he was used to dealing with every day. John smiled as he watched Dave look so serious as he washed him.
Dave washed the other foot, and placed it on the Jacuzzi floor, then knelt down to deal with the calves. Soap every inch of them, and then scrub it away with the wash cloth. Knees too. Lower thighs where they projected over the bench. The hair grew thicker here. But ignore that. Just wash Carter; don't let him get anywhere near that damn shower.
As Dave moved his makeshift wash cloth up John's legs, the water began to warm up. As did John's body. Even though it hadn't been all that long since he had come, he was starting to get hard. He wondered if Dave was going to wash him there, too? Then John decided that this body washing business could go both ways. "Your turn is next, Dave. Once you're done with me, I get to wash you. And rinse you." With my mouth, John thought as he looked down through the water and watched Dave's limp cock waving around in the water. Soon it would be hard once more. And then it would be his to suck.
Dave considered just moving up - but didn't want to deal with the next area just now. Keeping Carter out of the shower was more important. Far, far more important. "Hands" Dave ignored what Carter said. *He* didn't need to be washed, *he'd* never left Carter for a shower. "Hands," he repeated. Dave gave each digit and thumb individual attention. He discarded the makeshift washcloth - it was too coarse, and used his fingers to ensure that each fold and crease on Carter's hand had been gone over.
Then the forearms. Slender, hair starting here again. Dave used the palms of his hands to massage each muscle in them, ensuring everything was smooth, clean and in working order.
John sighed and closed his eyes as the wash morphed into a massage. "That feels good, thanks," he said. The water was gradually nearing the optimum temperature and John knew that at the rate Dave was progressing up his arms, his penis would soon be within reach. John smiled at that thought, already looking forward to driving Dave crazy with desire and pleasure.
The next bit was going to be awkward. Dave frowned, then decided on a plan. "Turn around. Kneel on the floor."
Turn around and kneel? Was Dave that hard already? Well, John didn't mind getting fucked again -- if it made Dave feel better about things. He scrambled around and got into position. "Is this what you want?" John asked.
Dave firmly pushed Carter's head underwater, then pulled it up again, and soaped his scalp. He then ran his fingers through Carter's hair, ensuring that each and every strand of hair was coated. And over his scalp, rubbing behind the ears, and down to the forehead. The back of neck that he was looking at seemed incredibly kissable - but Dave restrained himself. Carter was never going to be able to say he needed a shower to get clean.
As Dave massaged his scalp and washed his hair, John found himself frowning. He was expecting sex. Not this. Definitely not this. So that had to mean that Dave didn't want him after all. "Are you done yet?" John asked, his voice sounding tired to his own ears.
"Are you clean yet? Shut your eyes." Dave grabbed the muscle shirt from where it had been half-floating, soaped it, and moved it over Carter's face, then massaged the face itself, rubbing the soap in.
John couldn't say anything while his face was being washed, so he just endured it. He wanted to tell Dave that he was very clean, thank you very much. Anything to get Dave to stop touching him if he wasn't going to want to do anything else with him. With the soap all over his face, John couldn't even open his eyes enough to see if Dave was still limp -- which would be a sure sign that he didn't want to have any more sex with him. And if he didn't, well, John knew he deserved that. After all, hadn't Dave been complaining about what a lousy job he had done earlier? John still couldn't figure out just what he had done wrong, and until he could do that, then how could he tell Dave how or when to do certain things? Especially when he had no idea just what kind of experience Dave had with gay sex.
"Breathe in." Dave gave Carter a moment to comply, then pushed him forward, under water again. He ran his hands again through the freely floating hair and around the ears, and across the cheekbones, over the nose and soft lips. Dave knew he was getting hard again, and there was an asshole waiting just beneath him, but he ignored it and concentrated on the bones of that face and the hair that was floating so erotically between his fingers. He had to get Carter clean.
Dave pulled the rinsed head back up, and started to work on the back. He concentrated hard: counting the ribs and vertebrae, soaping them thoroughly, running his fingers over the bumps that each one made, Then, below the ribs, the scars - he soaped and rubbed those too, made them as clean as he could. The back was sleek and white and glistening - Dave controlled his breathing not letting his thoughts go to where they would make his erection get out of control.
John's doubts were quickly chased away when Dave began to work on his back. It felt so good to have each and every muscle massaged. John did tense when Dave neared his scars, and he then thought that he would have to stop this before Dave got around to the front of his body. But, Dave's touch on his stab wounds was tender. But still...John wasn't sure he wanted to see if Dave would touch the scars from the laporatomies and from the colostomy. Even though he had said they didn't bother him, Dave had yet to touch them. And John couldn't blame Dave on that. He didn't like touching them, either.
Dave soaped Carter's front from behind, but it was awkward. It was difficult to stop his hard-on banging into Carter, and when it did, it just wanted more and more touching, and he was supposed to be getting Carter clean. And besides he wanted to see the man's chest, the chest that was as free of hair as any woman's. So halfway down he stopped. "Turn around. Back on the seat." He could kneel between Carter's legs and be at a perfect level.
John obeyed quickly, his unease over his scars forgotten for the moment. He was eager to see the very hard cock that had made his body tingle wherever it touched.
Dave soaped the lower chest, paying special attention to the lowest rib, and scars and bellybutton - any distinct feature he could find on the smooth white flesh. He had to concentrate on tiny small portions of the body to keep his focus. Clean Carter, that was what he had to do.
John kept his eyes on Dave's face as he felt the man wash his chest. As Dave's hands moved closer to his scar, John found himself tensing once more, but there was no look of derision or disgust in Dave's features. John wanted to see Dave's eyes -- the eyes would tell him what Dave was really feeling right now.
Once Dave had caught sight of Carter's cock he couldn't look away. It was huge, and hard. Enormous. It was difficult to believe that it had been in him last night. Even more difficult to believe that he had lived to want it again, but he did. Very badly. Dave gave a slight shiver. "Scoot forward." He'd start at the asshole and work forward, save the redwood for
last.
John lowered his eyes, taking in Dave's erection. And once again he thought about how beautiful Dave's cock was. He felt confused that Dave could be so hard and yet not give any indication that he wanted to have sex again. After scooting forward, John leaned his head back against the edge of the Jacuzzi and closed his eyes. He no longer wanted to see what was in Dave's eyes. He was too afraid that if he did look into them, he would see that Dave had just been playing with him. Mocking him. Using him.
And that thought brought tears to John's eyes. He didn't want to just be used by Dave for sex. He wanted more from him. So much more. And it was so plain that he wasn't going to get it. Not now and not ever. A tear slipped out from under his closed eyelids, but John was hesitant to reach up to wipe it away, afraid that moving would call Dave's attention to the fact that he was crying. And then Dave would probably laugh at him.
Dave found the washcloth and soaped it, washed Carter's butt crack. He found the asshole, and moved his finger lightly around the outside of it. It had to be clean. If it was clean then Carter wouldn't want a shower.
Another tear slipped out as John felt Dave gently wash his ass. How could Dave be so tender when John knew that Dave didn't really want him? How? Another tear, and then another, followed, until they were all falling freely. If only...if only Dave weren't touching him *there*. Hell, if only Dave weren't touching him period, then John could will his erection to subside. Keep his body from betraying his feelings to Dave.
Forward to the balls. He'd fucked up here earlier today. But now he wasn't trying to please Carter, just clean him. Soapy washcloth all around them and over them. And why hadn't Carter liked it when he'd been here this morning. What'd he done wrong?
No matter what John tried to think about in order to distract his wayward body, Dave's touches kept taking his thoughts back to just how good it felt to have Dave touching him, even if he was using a cloth. Using his own shirt on him. Well, at least Dave couldn't leave until the shirt got run through the dryer, right? There was a dryer somewhere in the mansion, John was sure of it. Corrine had to do the laundry somehow...somewhere. But, God, Dave's touch! It was almost enough to send him over the edge. John was sure that if Dave did touch his cock, then he would explode. He just knew it. How ironic it would be for his own body to betray him that way in front of Dave. To come just by being touched when the man who was touching him didn't seem to want him anymore.
The redwood. The redwood was next. Next and last and always. Dave wanted it in him. He wanted Carter touching his nipples and suckling him, and making him scream. He touched it, with one finger, and watched it quiver.
Dave tore his eyes from the redwood, and looked up. He wanted to see Carter wanting him. He saw tears.
Tears! Dave knelt upright, and ran his finger over Carter's cheek catching one, then looked at it, and back at Carter, wanting to know why Carter was crying - and hoping it would be stopped by having the redwood slam into him.
John was barely able to suppress a shudder when Dave touched him with just one finger. More, he thought. Touch it more. Please? And then he felt another touch from Dave, this time on his cheek. John suddenly opened his eyes and saw Dave staring at him. Those dark brown eyes looked hungry...and not for breakfast. There was no derision there. No mockery. No joking. Maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong about what he had been thinking about Dave. Maybe.
