Medical Attention

Chapter nine. Cure.


***


In the morning, John wakes with a monster headache and a sick rolling of the gut. Not surprising really since he guzzled nearly a whole bottle of gin with no tonic to water it down. There’s no way he can go to work and there’s no way Kovac will let him go to work. He forces Carter to take an aspirin or two and stay in bed.

“Don’t even think about getting up,” Luka warns him in his best fatherly impression, buttoning his own shirt. “I may have to go to work but you have to stay here in bed and rest. You need it.”

“I don’t think I CAN get up,” John groans, his skull feeling like it’s splitting in half. He lolls there in his bed, sore head on the pillow, watching Luka get dressed with bleary eyes. Luka has taken a quick shower and used John’s iron to press his sleep-crinkled clothes which he is currently in the process of putting back on. It feels kind of unusual for Luka to be putting his clothes back on when absolutely no sex whatsoever occurred the night before. Sleeping with someone, actually shut-eyes-and-snore kind of sleeping, without attempting to get the other party naked beforehand is a rarity for Kovac. Yet he does not feel disappointed in any way. It was the best non-sex he’d ever had. Just to be able to hold John through the night, protecting him, soothing him, taking away his pain – that was more amazing to him than a million mind-blowing orgasms.

Not that he doesn’t want to have a million mind-blowing orgasms with Carter. He positively does and he will start the countdown right after work if John is feeling up to it. He’s certainly not up to it this morning or else Luka would’ve started right then and there. John can’t even lift his head off the pillow, let alone participate in an energetic bout of lovemaking.

Sluggishly rubbing at his eyes, John queries in the middle of a yawn, “Did you tell Weaver I’m not gonna come in today?”

“Already called,” Luka tells John, adjusting his own cuffs. “Don’t worry about anything. The E.R. can cope without you. You’re not the only doctor in the entire hospital, you know.”

“I know, I know,” John mumbles. He just takes his job very seriously and hates having to take any days off, feeling like he’s letting the rest of the staff down. But as Luka pointed out, he’s not the only MD in the whole place. Kerri will juggle some shifts to cover for him. And if he didn’t have some time off after the death of his son, there would be something very wrong with him. He’s not that cold-hearted that he can just mosey back into work the next day as if nothing ever happened. Plus, he really doesn’t want to deal with all the questions, condolences and sympathetic pats on the back that he’s inevitably going to get when he returns, no matter how well-meaning they are. He couldn’t handle that sort of fuss right now.

Kovac sits on the bed next to him and brushes John’s mussed brown hair out of his still-reddened eyes. “John, I’m going to come back after work and see you. Is that okay?” he asks politely in his accent. “Because if you’re just going to tell me to piss off again, now’s the time to do it.”

Carter looks marginally sheepish. After Kovac’s heroic rescue effort the night before, John is eternally grateful for the older doctor’s intervention. Irregardless of whatever has transpired between Kovac and himself in the recent past - the relentless seduction, the arguing, the mind games, the betrayal - John finally realises that Kovac DOES care for him. Nobody else came and broke the door down for him. Nobody else stayed the night to make sure he was okay. Nobody else promised they’d always be there for him. Despite his hopeless drunkenness, he remembers Luka saying that and it sounded one hundred percent genuine. It’d be downright rude if he told Kovac to get lost now.

“I don’t want you to piss off anymore,” Carter admits shyly. “No more pissing off, okay? I want you to come back and see me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that last part,” Kovac says cheekily, cupping his ear as if he’s gone deaf. “What did you say again?”

“I said, I want you to come back and see me. Bastard,” John grumbles, clumsily thumping Kovac with a pillow. Kovac laughs and leans down to press a fond kiss upon the crown of John’s head.

“Hey, I may be a bastard but I’m the only bastard who loves you,” he proclaims with another kiss.

Kovac says that last statement so effortlessly that for a horrible moment, Carter isn’t sure if what Luka is saying is the real deal or meaningless sentiment to make him feel good. He vaguely remembers Kovac gushing something about love last night but old negative notions worm their way to the surface and he has to wonder if the guy was just talking shit to gain his trust in order to get closer to him. Maybe the guy hasn’t changed at all. Maybe he’s still the same randy, leg-humping dog John had always thought he was. Maybe Luka saying those words is just the prelude to sex. Maybe he’s just saying what John wants to hear to get into his bed.

Sensing his suspicions, Luka stiffens. His next query is taut with anger. “You think I say that to everyone?”

When Carter doesn’t answer, Luka sighs and rubs at his face while squeezing his eyes shut in the familiar gesture of angst that he adopts, not mad at the first man but at himself. He can’t really blame John for his reservations after the appalling way Kovac has behaved towards him in recent months. But that is history and he must now make John believe in the future, make him believe that he has changed. Last night changed Luka. Thinking that John might have killed himself and the paralysing, white-knuckled fear he felt over the thought of finding his co-worker and occasional lover lifeless on the bathroom floor, Luka realised that John meant the world to him and he couldn’t live without his brown-eyed boy. He now knows how John must have felt when John thought Luka had been executed in Africa. Thinking that Carter was dead had been the worst feeling Kovac had ever experienced. Jesus, he’d already lost one love of his life back in Croatia. He didn’t want to lose another. When a man is faced with an authentic life and death situation, he tends to see things in a whole other light. He tends to see into the innermost chambers of his own heart and knows what parts of himself are bullshit lies and what parts are pure truth. In the illuminating light of truthfulness that surrounded Luka when he found his boyfriend curled up behind the couch, very much alive, he realised that he had been a complete fucking magarac to treat sweet, sensitive John Carter the callous way he did. It’s not hard to see why John doubts anything he says. It’s Luka’s own damn fault for being such a jerk. Therefore, it is Luka’s newfound mission to remedy that. He crouches down on the carpet to Carter’s level, face to face, and looks him square in the eyes, unflinchingly and openly.

“John,” he says gently, “I swear to God I have only ever said that to one other person in my life. Do you know who that is?”

From the tone of Luka’s voice, the inflection of past pain and loss, and the same emotions mirrored in his green-flecked eyes, John knows immediately who Kovac means and his opinion of the man crouching before him swings back in his favour. Luka hardly ever talks about her, to anybody, so he must be deadly serious.

“Your...your wife?”

At John’s hesitant guess, Kovac nods gravely. “Yes. I loved her very much. When she died, it felt like my soul was ripped right out of my body.” He pauses. “But she is gone. And I have never loved another.” He tenderly strokes Carter’s brow.

“Until I met you. In retrospect, I know that I have been searching for happiness in the arms of all those other women. The way I was acting, the many women I dated - it had nothing to do with sex. I was looking for love. However, I was looking in the wrong place. I should have been looking at YOU. But I am now. I love you, John. Only you.” Kovac’s intense blue/green gaze burns into Carter’s. “Do you believe me?”

The sincerity in Kovac’s voice and eyes speaks volumes to Carter and he castigates himself for even doubting the second doctor’s motives for declaring such a significant proclamation. Quietly, John answers, “I believe you. I’m sorry, Luka. I shouldn’t have-”

Interrupting him, Kovac pronounces passionately, “It doesn’t matter. What happened between us before this day doesn’t matter. What we’ve said or done to each other doesn’t matter. Who we’ve been with in the past doesn’t matter. None of that matters. As long as you know that I love you and will honour you and defend you and care for you for the rest of my life – that is all that matters. I don’t need anyone else. I have you. You are all I need.”

Recalling that it was not only his wife Luka lost in the bombing, Carter asks tentatively, “What about… children? You know I can’t give you any.”

Giving John a sad smile, Kovac replies, “It is I who regrets not being able to give YOU children, Carter. I know how much you want them.”

The two men gaze glumly at each other, thinking that childlessness is the only drawback to being with a member of the same gender. If you are paternally predisposed. Which they both are, earnestly so. They both have an unfulfilled yearning for little Johns and Lukas climbing all over them and calling them, “Daddy.” They want boys. They want girls. They just want kids. A whole noisy, messy brood of them. They are cluckier than a lot of females and the idea of not having a family of their own is most disenchanting.

“But all is not lost,” Luka speaks up confidently. “We could always adopt a few Romanian orphans. We’re wealthy. We can afford it. And they need loving homes. We may have to buy a large house, though, and hire a nanny. Or we could find a surrogate mother to have our babies. We can even deliver them ourselves. In this day and age, there are plenty of ways we can have children...” He breaks off his excitable chatter and shakes his head with a short chuckle.

“It’s far too early in the morning and you are in no shape to be discussing whether we should have kids. Plenty of time for that later. Get some rest, all right?” Luka smooches a tired, sick Carter fondly on the temple and stands up. “I’ll see you tonight, my ljepota.”

“Bye, doc,” John farewells him weakly, his eyes already closing as Luka gathers his coat and leaves John’s bedroom. By the time Luka starts his car, Carter is fast asleep.

Around five p.m., after drifting in and out of unconsciousness all day and having odd, disjointed dreams, Carter feels well enough to get up, shave and have a shower to wash the stink of gin off him. The aspirin and the healing power of sleep have worked and his headache and nausea have faded away. While he doesn’t feel sick anymore, he’s avidly thirsty and drinks some of the water spraying out of the shower rose, even though it’s warm, cupping it in his hands and gulping it down until his throat feels not so parched. Though some may think drinking shower water is strange, he’s sure he’s not the only guy who’s done it. Drying himself and throwing on some sweats, he goes into the kitchen and whips up a healthy banana, honey, malt and low-fat milk smoothie that makes him feel more awake and much less dying of thirst. He’s not really up to eating yet. Maybe when Kovac comes back later they can get some takeout or something. He sits in his armchair, legs dangling over the side and sips his smoothie while thinking about who else but his dashing Croatian lover. Guess himself and Kovac are back on again. He knows now that he’s never going to get back with Kem, if he even HAD a chance before the baby died. He supposes that he still held out a small flicker of hope that they would hook back up because Kem might have needed John’s stability and security – i.e.; money - and additionally, a child needs two parents. Since there isn’t going to be a child, there’s no logical reason why he and Kem should be together again. He’s sad over that but it is more sadness that he’s not going to be a father any more, not that he and Kem won’t be a couple.

There is a name John likes for the baby, since he knows it is a boy. Or was. Joshua. He wants to call his son Joshua Carter. He is thinking of dedicating a monument to him, like a new wing of the hospital or something. Kem would like that too. He doesn’t blame her for Joshua’s death. She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t smoke or drink or take drugs. She was the perfect expectant mother. As a surgeon, he knows that sometimes things just happen and there’s nothing you can do about it. Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to be with Kem, or any other woman for that matter. Certainly not Abby. Boy, is he glad he didn’t sleep with her. That would have been a major, major mistake. For him, women have been nothing but heartache. Every single one of them ended up ditching him for one dumb reason or another. He’s too nice, too rich, not rich enough (in the case of one spoilt blonde heiress he briefly dated a couple of years ago), works too much or is too involved with charities. When he impulsively offers to make a commitment the chicks think he’s too clingy and when he doesn’t say he loves them after a couple of months they think he’s not committed enough. Gah. He can’t win. Women are just too complicated for him to work out. Men on the other hand… Men are pretty simple creatures.

All they want is a little freedom and a lot of sex. That’s pretty much it. If they are in a relationship, they don’t want the rest of their life to end, as can tend to happen when the other party is too demanding of their time. They just want to be able to watch football or play poker with the guys every week. They don’t want that stuff to change just because they’ve fallen in love. That’s not to say that men don’t take love seriously. When a man falls in love, they fall hard. There are just no emotional strings and ties to get tangled up in. They just want to be with that person and they expect that the object of their love is faithful to them. A bit of God-like worship doesn’t go astray either. Men like to feel macho and tough and they need to feel like their partner wants to sex them up twenty four seven. Men are fairly easygoing. Men don’t constantly ask what the other is thinking or have to analyse every little thing in their life. Men don’t care if the toilet seat is left up or that the dishes aren’t done. Men don’t hold grudges over something someone did two years ago. Men don’t answer, “Nothing,” when asked what is wrong. Men will generally say what is wrong. Men don’t usually give the silent treatment or expect the other party to be a mind reader and know what’s bugging someone. Men, on the whole, are pretty honest about their feelings.

And Carter hasn’t exactly been true to his gender lately. He’s been hiding his true feelings where Kovac is concerned and trying to convince himself that he doesn’t feel what he actually does. He’s been giving Kovac hot and cold signals, confusing him, just the way women have done to Carter in the past. He has been, well, a bit of a bitch, much as he hates to admit it. Because of the stupid way he’s been acting, he has forced Kovac to play games too. But no more. Carter is not going to fuck around any more. Life is too short to live a lie. He has to admit the truth or he’ll never be happy. And the truth is: he wants Luka. That’s it. That’s all there is to admit. Luka is not a disease, as he once thought. His disease is loneliness. And Luka is the CURE. Oh, how simple it all is when all the insignificant crud is stripped away. The cure has been there all along, right in front of his nose, and the supposedly intelligent Doctor John Carter couldn’t see it. Until now. Kem’s phone call was like a much-needed slap in the face. He has realised that no woman on the planet is ever going to make him happy. Only one man.

Luka Kovac.

He loves Luka. He always has. He’s just been too worried about what other people think to accept it. But now he doesn’t care what they think. He doesn’t care what Abby thinks. He doesn’t care what people at County think. He doesn’t care what his family thinks, or his wealthy friends or bloody business associates. They can all go to hell. The only person whose opinion he values above all others is his own. If he accepts who he is then others will have no option but to accept as well. So, he’s not straight. Whatever. It’s not like men being in love is a totally new thing. It’s more accepted these days than it has ever been. They even have TV shows about it, for goodness sakes! As for his dear departed Gamma, she wouldn’t give two hoots about him falling for a guy. She’d just be overjoyed that he’s finally found someone that he can be happy with. Gamma was a wise old bird. She would have given him her blessing, great grandchildren or no great grandchildren, he knows that now. His family might have trouble adjusting to the new non-hetero Carter but they’ll adjust eventually. The only one who can make Carter happy is himself. If he gives himself permission to be happy, then he will be. And what makes him happy is an older doctor from Croatia with caring hands, an infectious grin and the prettiest blue eyes he’s ever seen.

Carter makes a contract with himself. This day is a new page in the book of his life. The very first page, the blank one. All the pages after this day are blank too and what is henceforth written on them is entirely up to himself. He wants the book, his memoir, to be a work of non-fiction. From this moment on, he’s telling the truth. He’s going to be completely open about everything. When he goes back to work, he’s not hiding who he is. It’s not like he’s not going to walk around with a big sign heralding, “I’m in love with Luka Kovac!” but if anyone asks, he’s going to confirm it. What’s the worst they can do? Point and giggle at him? Since he’s one of the top doctors at County and has been there longer than practically everyone else, he has a high level of respect and that respect will hopefully stop anyone from giving him shit about his relationship with Kovac. They can say whatever the hell they like behind his back but if anyone says anything disparaging to his face, if they call him a faggot or a cocksucker, John will not hesitate to throw a punch or two. He’ll show any homophobic pricks that he won’t take that crap. He knows that you can’t let anyone get away with it, not even once, or they’ll keep doing it. He’ll gladly smash someone’s face in if they dare to mock him and his sexuality. And so will Kovac. Between the two of them, two proud lions stalking the hospital like they own it, nobody will have the guts to do any taunting. Yessir, if anyone asks if he and Kovac are dating, Carter’s gonna retort, “Damn right, we are. Got a fucking problem with that?” He’s actually looking forward to seeing their faces, the nurses and the interns and the office staff. He’s looking forward to watching their jaws drop. That’ll be fun.

Sitting in the armchair with his banana smoothie, John Carter smiles to himself and waits for Luka to finish work.

Unknown to him, everyone at the hospital is talking about Carter, wondering how he is and what exactly happened. Luka figures that Abby must have told someone about the baby dying and that person told someone else and so on and so forth until everybody there knows about it. The E.R. is practically buzzing with gossip. Fortunately, nobody asks Kovac about the situation because they don’t know that he spent the night with John. They don’t know about the two medical practitioners and their blossoming love. The only person who knows is Sam and she’s astutely keeping her lips zipped about it. In actual fact, she doesn’t want anyone to know that Kovac passed up sex with her hot blonde self to go comfort Carter. She doesn’t want people knowing that Luka only dated her because he couldn’t have John. And she recognises now that’s precisely what was going on. It’s not beneficial for a girl’s esteem for people to know that she was second choice. Therefore, she’s not going to tell anyone. She’s decided she’s sick of men and the habit they have of toying with women’s emotions. Even though she used to do that to Luka, toy with him like a cat with a ball of wool, but she’s intentionally forgetting those times because she’s a woman and she can. Toying with men is a woman’s right. Men just shouldn’t do it back. She’s thinking about swearing off men altogether and becoming a dyke. Men suck. Sam thinks God must have been a woman and She made men as a joke. Problem is, women keep falling for the jokes. If she was a lesbian, then she could borrow her girlfriend’s clothes and they could do each other’s hair and watch girly movies together. That’d be fun.

On the down side, she’d have to deal with someone else’s PMS, bitchiness and mood swings but at least she’d know what she would be in for. She turns into Queen Bitch when she’s about to get her period. Just ask Kovac. He knows aaall about that. Anyway, ice cream cures everything. And, on the bright side - no wet spot on the bed. No unwanted pregnancies. No toilet seat up. No razor burn, unless the girlfriend shaves her you-know-what. But there would always be guaranteed orgasms. Unlike most guys, women know where the clitoris is located. She reckons she could go down on a woman. Can’t be any worse than sucking cock. And, as an added bonus, no worrying about spitting or swallowing. Yeah, Sam can see the definite advantages of switching teams. But who would be her girlfriend? Kerri Weaver, while an unapologetic dyke with pride, is not exactly hot plus dating her boss equals not a great idea. Hmm, what about Abby? Abby’s pretty enough. Abby seems to share her hatred of men, especially men called ‘Luka’, and she’s currently single. Wonder if she can convince Abby to become Alex’s second mommy? Two mommies are better than one and a crappy daddy...

Whatever anyone else in the hospital is preoccupied about that day, Luka is just about floating on air because of the night before. Because of what John said. Three little words. John said he loved Luka. True, he was out of his mind with grief and tanked up on gin when he said it but the point it, he SAID it. And to Kovac, that totally counts. He’s happy. Nothing can get him down now, not even Weaver’s bitching or Morris’s clumsy ineptitude or Barnett’s too-casual approach to patients, not even Pratt’s infuriating and unethical practise of hitting on anyone female who enters the building and trying to scam phone numbers off them, be they interns, psychologists or patients. Normally those things bug the shit out of Luka but not today. Today is a good day to be Doctor Luka Kovac. He has express permission to go visit John after work at his place and hopefully the kid is feeling better so they can go out to dinner or even just lounge in front of the TV with some greasy but oh-so-satisfying pizza, specifically the one with the cheese-stuffed crust. Man, that stuff is delicious. American food is great, provided you don’t overdo it. He’s seen first hand what happens to a human body when it indulges in excess American food. It can result in him with his bloody gloved fingers buried in someone’s cracked-open chest, trying to scrape the thick yellow cholesterol out of their clogged-up heart like a plumber trying to clear crap out of a blocked drain. Not keen on having that done to him, Luka is usually a healthy eater but he does enjoy the odd pig-out every now and then. He decrees tonight will be one of those times. It will be kind of like a celebration. The start of something fabulous. It’s a different chapter in his life. This chapter now involves John Carter. John is now his official lover. Screw it; he’s not disguising the reality. He wants the whole world to know that he alone has managed to land the desirable Dr. Carter and if John is agreeable to it then Luka is going to brag his ass off about it. Who wouldn’t? It’s a fine thing to brag about. A lot of women he knows, and some he doesn’t, will be sobbing into their pillows when they find out the two of them are now off the Top Ten Eligible Hospital Bachelors list. Luka’s mother always said he was going to be a heartbreaker. Can’t deny that. But one heart he will never, ever break will be John’s. He wants to spend every spare second with the guy, proving to him that his love is real and true and never-ending. Yes, pizza and couch-snuggling with Carter is sounding really good and Kovac can’t wait for his shift to be finished, hands already itching to touch the other man.

Almost as if they share some weird psychic bond, Kovac gets a page from Carter telling him to pick up some food on his way over. Susan asks him what he’s smiling at and Kovac winks and tells her he has a date. Inquisitively, she wants to know with whom but he simply grins and says, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” After his shift ceases, Luka orders a large super supreme stuffed-crust pizza and picks it up before he parks out the front of Carter’s place and makes his way up to the door. He’s holding the pizza box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. After hearing the knock, Carter opens the door and lets Luka in. Prior to the other MD’s arrival, Carter had contemplated swapping the sweats for something a little dressier but rationed that if Luka loves him, he’ll love him no matter what he’s wearing. His clothes most likely won’t stay on for long anyway, knowing Kovac’s insatiable sexual appetite.

“Hey, my little patient. Feeling better?” Kovac queries, bending to press a kiss to John’s newly-shaven cheek. John nods, all the greenness gone from his face and the redness gone from his eyes.

“Much. Oh, pizza! You read my mind,” he comments as Luka sets the box and the bottle down on the kitchen bench and removes his scarf and coat, revealing a pale blue shirt and black pants. It’s very warm in John’s place. So warm, one would think it was summer instead of winter. But if that’s how Carter wants it, Kovac can’t complain. It’s Carter’s pad, after all. As Luka rolls up his sleeves to make himself more comfortable in the central-heated temperature of the room, Carter opens the lid of the pizza box and steam comes wafting out along with the mouth-watering smell of pepperoni and onions. He starts picking off the olives and munching on them, realising he’s much hungrier than he thought now that the food is right in front of him.

“How about some wine for starters?” Kovac suggests, already unwrapping the foil around the cork. He halts. “That is, if you can handle alcohol after last night’s rather unhealthy binge.”

“No, wine is good. I think I can handle wine. Let me get some glasses,” John replies and retrieves two from the cupboard above the stove. Luka pops the cork and pours the chilled burgundy liquid into the glasses, then hands one to the younger doctor.

“Let’s make a toast,” Luka proposes, his cerulean orbs focused intently on his smaller lover.

“To what?” Carter asks. Luka smiles charmingly, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“To us, silly.” He holds up his drink. “A toast to us. To new beginnings.”

Carter nods in agreement and clinks his glass together with Luka’s. “I’ll drink to that. To new beginnings.”

They both take a gulp of the wine. Kovac doesn’t bother being polite and drains his whole glass in one go. Carter can only manage a few sips before his stomach threatens to cramp up in protest at the potential booze-blast that it’s going to get again. It still hasn’t forgiven him for last night’s drowning.

“Drink up, John-boy,” Kovac urges, motioning to Carter’s still-full glass. “Can’t let a top quality drop like this go to waste.”

Raising his eyebrows, John remarks, “Are you trying to get me drunk, Kovac?”

The Croatian chuckles heartily. “Seen that. Wasn’t pretty.”

“Hey, you said I WAS,” John scolds him, smacking Luka on the arm. “Goddamn lying foreigner.”

“Oh, you’re right. You WERE pretty,” Kovac relents, remembering the other young doctor’s red-rimmed gaze turning up to him when Luka coaxed Carter out of his huddle behind the lounge. Working in the E.R. and having to tell sons and daughters and wives and husbands that their loved ones have passed away, Luka has witnessed many people crying but seeing it on John’s face - the silvery streaks of tears on his cheeks, the sheer vulnerability and raw pain in those dark, depthless eyes - that really got to him. It broke his heart and yet filled it with immense, overflowing love at the same time.

“I’ve never seen you look so breathtaking,” he murmurs reverently.

John’s mouth twists in wry denunciation. “Yeah. Anger and self-pity – not ugly at all.”

“But you had very valid reasons for feeling that way,” Kovac swiftly amends. “I mean, you had every right…after…what happened…” He trails off. He can’t bring himself to say, “After your baby son died the day following my tasteful surprise peep-show with Sam in the closet which I did purely to wound you like the thoughtless, spiteful prick that I was.” He doesn’t say that but he knows they are both thinking it and kicks himself for dredging up hurtful memories and possibly irreversibly ruining what was supposed to be a romantic night in.

“Forgive me, Carter,” he says repentantly, setting down his glass. “Me and my big mouth. I didn’t mean to remind you-”

But John shrugs and cuts off the rest of his apology. “Hey, last night was what it was, all right? I needed to let all that shit out and I did. So, from here on in I’m trying to be positive and putting all that behind me. The past is the past. I still got the rest of my life to live and I sure as heck ain’t gonna spend it wallowing in my own misery. As Gamma used to say, we Carters weren’t built that way. We just carry on, head held high, no matter what life throws at us.”

With a surge of fierce pride and admiration, Kovac cups John’s cheeks in his hands and gazes into his partner’s eyes saying, “You have such courage, ljepota. Such strength and such determination to go on in the face of adversity. You never give up. That’s one of the very things I love about you.”

“And what about you?” John reminds him, talking about how Kovac lost not only his two children but his beloved wife back in Croatia when a bomb blast killed them all. The man standing before him could have easily gone down the path of self-destruction and ended up a penniless wino in a gutter but here he is, a successful doctor and surgeon living in America and saving lives every single day of the week. He has triumphed over inexpressible tragedy. Luka is the epitome of courage and determination.

“Your strength is one of the things I admire about you too,” John tells him, placing his own wine glass down on the counter top and caressing Luka’s bare forearms, feeling the warm olive-tinted skin and the black fuzz sprinkled over them. “Your strength kept you alive in Africa.”

“No,” Kovac denies, shaking his head. “YOU kept me alive, Carter. The thought of seeing you again was what kept me going. Whenever I felt the heat and thirst and fatigue taking me over, whenever I felt my spirit weakening, I thought of your shy smile and your chocolate-coloured eyes. I thought of your voice and your touch and how you make me feel when I’m with you. I thought of you and held on. It seemed like forever. And then you flew in and saved me, like an angel straight out of Heaven.” His face is filled with awe and gratitude. “You saved my LIFE, John. You came right when I needed you the most.”

“So did you,” John divulges, meaning the evening before when Kovac forced the door open and spent the remainder of the night holding him in bed, comforting him, supporting him, sharing his strength with Carter when Carter had none. That simple act of compassion erased anything harmful that Luka had said or done. That simple act of compassion had proven to John that underneath it all, Kovac really cared. That simple act of compassion meant the world to John. And still does. The younger male’s heart expands to bursting point.

“Thank you for being here for me, Luka. I really need you right now,” Carter professes, voice and eyes suddenly suffused with desperation. “God, I need you so much!”

He roughly yanks Kovac towards him and crushes their lips together in a passionate, hungry kiss which the older doctor returns with gusto, still cradling John’s face in his hands. Their mouths open and their tongues slide against the other’s, hot, wet and demanding. Carter tastes like wine as Kovac does to Carter. Rich and fruity with a hint of blackberry, oak and cloves. They feel giddy, their heads swimming, but not from the fermented grape liquor both of them have swallowed. They haven’t had enough of that to feel inebriated. The scant mouthfuls of burgundy fluid have warmed up their empty stomachs and made their breath sweet and intoxicating with alcohol but they are far from under the influence. They feel drunk but not on the wine. They are drunk on each other. The two medical practitioners kiss the way they should have done when they were reunited in the Congo, like men starved. Finally, they can be together and nothing is stopping them, no hospital, no jungle, no women, no doubts or concerns - not a thing on the earth can keep them apart now. Pizza forgotten about, Kovac clears a space on the polished wooden kitchen counter and heroically hoists John up onto it as if the American male weighs no more than a crisp autumn leaf, not disconnecting the electrified fusion of their lips. Devouring Luka’s mouth as if he’ll die without it, John wraps his legs around the other doctor’s trim waist and pulls him closer, Luka’s hardness meeting his through the barrier of their trousers. The bench top is the perfect height for sex. With Carter sitting on top of that bench, he is completely level with Kovac’s hips, as if it had been built for them alone. If this was any other night, Kovac would have torn John’s pants off and been inside him by now. John’s cherry is ripe for the plucking. He could pluck John right this instant if he was so inclined. Luka knows from experience that when someone kisses him that desperately and needily, they want to be taken and ravaged, the harder the better. The elder man remembers all too clearly the lustful list of lewdness he prepared a couple of months ago. The number one thing on his list was: Fuck John. He was so eager and so impatient to reach that number one goal. But you know what? He doesn’t care about that list anymore. He mentally scrunches up and burns that list. He doesn’t want to fuck John. He wants to make love to him. Fucking is something the old, selfish Luka wanted to do. The new, improved Luka is more concerned about giving pleasure than taking it.

As they kiss avidly, sucking in quick breaths through their noses while their mouths are occupied, Kovac slips his hands under the back of John’s sweater, discovering the boy’s smooth skin. Under Luka’s seeking palms, Carter feels feverish and right along his spine perspiration is staring to gather in rivulets. Kovac is feeling a little warm himself. The passion between them is simmering like a stew on a stove and he wouldn’t be surprised if steam was emanating from their masculine bodies like it did off the pizza. As if to confirm his very thoughts, John severs the kiss and draws back to look at Luka, his cheeks ruddy with heightened desire. He is breathing fast, on the cusp of panting.

“Take it off,” he urges Luka, lifting his arms so the second male can peel the piece of clothing from his sweaty torso like the skin from a banana. Carter blows an upward gust of air at his face, making the front strands of his brown hair ruffle. “Phew. Is it just me or is it hot in here?”

“It’s you,” Kovac insinuates with a wicked grin, dropping the superfluous sweater and scanning John’s hairless, tanned upper body with allusive eyes. “You’re one hot jalapeño.”

Choosing not to correct Luka’s charming and naïve use of the word ‘jalapeño’ instead of the usual Americanised ‘tamale’, John half-smiles. “You think I’m hot?”

Kovac presses his burning erection into John’s groin, making the sitting one’s eyes widen. “What does THIS tell you?”

“Huh. Nobody’s every called me hot before,” Carter muses, pleased with the compliment. “Cute, perhaps, or handsome but never hot. I always thought I looked too young and boyish to be hot.”

“Believe me, my beauty,” Kovac declares, running his hands up Carter’s slim sides and ribs, “young and boyish IS hot.” He brushes his thumbs over John’s little pink nipples and the recipient arches his back and gives a breathy exhalation of rapture at the resultant sparkles fizzing through his chest like soda bubbles. With an admiring gaze, John drinks up the sight of the muscular male between his legs, thinking how gorgeous the Croatian is with his tall, fit body, sexy stubble on his jaw and narrow yet unbelievably sensuous mouth. Out of that mouth comes the most erotic, exotic accent John has ever heard and the sound of it, like a deep-throated snow leopard purr, makes his pulse flutter. He adores the way Luka’s dark hair falls roguishly over one side of his lined forehead, the way he stares seductively at John through those piercing oceanic eyes and black lashes – easily his most attractive feature. It was those eyes that first led Carter into the closet with him and it is those eyes that will make him want to go there again.

“Y’know, you’re pretty hot too,” Carter informs Kovac bashfully, the first time he’s ever said anything like that to another man. Seeing dampness beginning to soak through the chest and underarms of Kovac’s baby blue shirt, he adds, “In the literal sense as well. I think I have the central heating up way too high.”

As Kovac mumbles his agreement, John starts unbuttoning the older man’s shirt for him, spreading it open and exposing Kovac’s furred chest and six pack belly. Kovac is wearing a black leather belt around the top of his trousers. With his smaller, softer hands, Carter slides the fine linen fabric of the shirt over Luka’s wide shoulders and down his rippling arms, taking his time in spite of his overwhelming lust, letting the feel of Kovac’s skin and muscles glide over his palms and into his memory. Kovac lets go of John just long enough to free himself from his own sleeves and impatiently discards the item, then resumes his hold on the other young surgeon, greatly enjoying the way Carter is looking at him like he’s some kind of bronze statue in an art gallery. Innumerable women have looked at him that way, practically eating him up with their eyes, but it had never given Luka as much joy as it does now because that look is coming from John’s velvety-brown orbs. All he’s ever wanted is right there in Carter’s eyes. A look says more than a thousand words and in that look Kovac can see a thousand emotions. Respect, adoration, trust, openness, need, want, love. With all that shining through in John’s eyes, Kovac doesn’t need to hear the words from the first doctor’s mouth but he asks anyway.

“Tell me you love me.”

Carter reaches up and touches Kovac’s whisker-roughened cheek. He loves the feel of Luka’s stubble prickling under his hand, on his face, on his body. John is smooth enough for the both of them. He thinks the dissimilarity of their bodies is what makes them so well-matched. He’s smooth and Kovac is hairy but not in a gross gorilla-man kind of way. In a studly, manly kind of way, like one of those hunks on the historical romance novel covers. All Kovac needs is the frilled shirt and leather breeches, the boots and the sword and he could be a pirate or a highwayman, gallivanting and swashbuckling his way into the heart of his swooning paramour, which would obviously be Carter. Though they are both doctors and surgeons in the same hospital, have the same thing between their legs and the same intellect between their ears, Carter is like the opposite of Kovac in nearly every other way. While Kovac is solid and hard, he is slim and supple. Kovac’s eyes are light and sharp while John’s are dark and soft. Kovac hides his emotions well while Carter tends to spill his guts. Kovac has been married and has known the joys of being a father; Carter has not. Kovac had to work hard for his money; Carter was born into it. Kovac likes fast cars; Carter likes fast horses. Kovac is a fighter and Carter is a peace-maker. Kovac is aggressive and Carter is passive. Well, most of the time. When he wants to be, and specifically at work, John can be forceful and authoritative and take charge of any given situation. But not tonight. Tonight he is quite happy to let Kovac lead the way.

“Tell me, Carter.” Luka’s voice is but a mere murmur yet his eyes betray the urgency behind his request.

John caresses the other man’s face and says huskily, “I love you, Luka.”

Luka growls in satisfaction and snatches Carter’s hand away from his cheekbone, bringing it to his lips, taking two of Carter’s fingers into his mouth and sucking on them porn-star style, lashing his tongue around and between the digits while sending his lover a look of unadulterated hotness with those ebony-lashed eyes, letting John know exactly what he’s thinking about doing next. John’s dick jumps in anticipation of that mouth going down further south and sucking just like that. Luka’s saliva glints on Carter’s index and middle fingers as he slowly extracts them from his lips. As Carter’s breathing quickens again, Luka moves his voracious mouth down John’s palm and wrist, licking and nipping along the silky underneath of his forearm, into the crease of his inner elbow – feeling a pulse thrumming beneath his lips - and up the younger surgeon’s bicep until he reaches a rounded shoulder. Luka bites into that shoulder and John jolts with the ferocity of it, clutching Luka’s arm. Leaving behind tooth imprints in the flesh of John’s shoulder, Kovac slides his greedy mouth along the boy’s collarbones and attacks his neck while moulding his hand around Carter’s cock through the material of his pants, rubbing and squeezing the straining bulge, his aim to drive Carter crazy. And accomplishing that magnificently. Tipping his head back to allow the dominant male access to his throat, Carter groans helplessly and threads his fingers into Kovac’s glossy brown hair, getting lost in the heady, heart-thumping excitement and near mental black-out that accompanies such ardent physical affection. Genius-level IQ notwithstanding, Dr. John Carter cannot think or rationalise or analyse anything with what Kovac is doing to him. All the blood has left his brain and pooled in his crotch. What is happening is not medical attention; this is not therapy; this is not intensive care. This is not even sexual healing. This is primal animal mating at its finest. John sits there on the kitchen bench and permits Kovac to mate with him in any way he wants to. He didn’t get to do this in a tent at the Congo but wild Pygmy sex might just be happening here in his kitchen tonight.

Feeling his brown-eyed beau nearly roasting in his embrace and under his kissing, biting mouth, Kovac decides to cool Carter down a little before he spontaneously combusts or faints from heat exhaustion. It’s like a sauna in there, or a tropical jungle. Thank God it’s not the latter. They’ve both had enough of jungles to last a lifetime. In the sweltering furnace that is John’s vine-free apartment, Kovac is feeling much like a chicken egg in incubation but Carter is virtually getting cooked alive. Stick a fork in him; he’s done. The kid’s pulse is pounding, his cheeks are red and he is sweating like he’s just done a triathlon and Kovac hasn’t even BEGUN to make love to him yet. He doesn’t want Carter passing out from anything other than pleasure.

“Thermostat,” he commands. “Where is it?”

John points in the direction, moisture clumping his armpit hairs together, sweat already dripping down his temples and soaking his sideburns.

“Clothes. Off. Now,” Kovac snaps and heads to the controls to adjust the temperature by a few negative degrees. An obedient Carter shucks off his sweatpants and briefs as well as his socks, tossing them on the terracotta tiled floor, glad to be rid of the thick, suffocating garments. When Luka returns into the kitchen, the first thing he sees is John’s bare butt parked on the bench, the guy remaining in the same position Luka had left him in, his sleek back and the crack of his ass reflected in the varnished wood below it. Kovac grins to himself and sheds his own trousers, shoes and socks, leaving his boxer shorts on in case John gets too excited by the awe-inspiring sight of his nine-inch dick and erupts into a fatal nosebleed. He then rummages in the top shelf of Carter’s refrigerator, finding what he wants and bringing it back to the naked boy on the bench. In his thirties, John can hardly be called a boy but to the older and more experienced Kovac he is but a youth in his prime.

“Cold?” Kovac questions, indicating to the shiny counter top under John’s rump.

Grinning and swinging his legs over the edge of the bench like a little kid, John retorts, “Not cold enough.”

“I’ll fix that,” Luka pledges and bangs the yellow plastic tray he’s holding sharply onto the wooden bench, causing small squares of frozen water to clatter free next to John’s thigh. Comprehending what Kovac intends to do, John shivers in advance, his nipples already pebbling in anticipation. The Croatian goes around to the other side of the centrally located kitchen counter and picks up a cube of ice. John can’t help but jerk slightly at the coldness searing into his skin when Kovac touches the ice to his fevered flesh. With languorous slowness, Luka sweeps the glacial cube over John’s shoulder blades and back in circles, steering well clear of the sensitive scar tissue of his healed knife wound, creating glistening tracks and drips on second male’s skin as the ice speedily melts due to his steaming warmth.

“Oh, that’s good,” Carter utters, the freezing square of water sliding over his back working fantastically to lower his high body temperature to a non-lethal extent. In no time at all, the ice has dissolved into nothingness and Carter’s back is wet all over but not just from perspiration. Luka bends down and gives John’s skin a long lick, right up the middle of his spinal coloumn, tasting salt and water. Carter shudders.

“Lie back,” Kovac instructs with a gentle pull and John complies, leaning backwards, knees bent, calves and feet dangling over the front edge of the counter, arms loosely by his sides, head resting on the furthermost edge of the bench top. The coolness of the polished wood on the skin of his back is nowhere near as refreshing as the ice had been. The cubes Kovac had ejected out of the tray onto the bench are gradually melting and before they turn into tiny lukewarm puddles, he puts them to good use, popping one into his mouth. He leans down and slants his lips over Carter’s in a Spider-man upside-down kiss, his hair falling onto John’s face. Carter instinctively opens his mouth and Kovac awards the withheld ice to him. They pass the cube back and forth, an excuse to tangle icy tongues, the opposite angle of their faces giving a new and interesting dimension to the kiss. When that cube has disintegrated, the older doctor rubs more ice on Carter’s face – his brow, his closed eyelids, his cheeks and chin – and down his neck, clear liquid puddling in the hollow between his collarbones. He skims another frozen square along both of Carter’s arms. When he does the same on John’s chest, the reclining male’s areolae pucker up into points and goose bumps form on his tanned skin. John can’t restrain a hiss as Luka circles the ice around his nipples, giving him a sudden case of near freezer-burn or frostbite. But the cold shock morphs into a wave of incredible arousal that laps over his whole body. Leaning over one of John’s shoulders, Kovac takes a dusky nipple into his mouth, his tongue scorching Carter’s chilled flesh, chin-whiskers tickling. Once more, Carter shudders, the mixed sensations zapping straight to the length of his prick, which is just about incandescent with building lust.

He mutters, “Nobody but you, Kovac, could cool me down and make me hot at the same time.”

Kovac laughs. “Damn right, baby. Here, chew on this.” He places another ice cube onto John’s waiting tongue. As John is crunching on the ice, Luka is rubbing more over his udvurati’s belly, trickles of water escaping down over the smaller surgeon’s hips. Luka can see quite visibly that Carter’s dick is doing some trickling of its own, lubricating fluid generously seeping out of the rosy tip. Kovac leaves one square of frosty goodness in Carter’s navel to melt then pads around to the other side of the counter on his bare feet, facing his heat-affected amigo. To continue the cooling down process, Luka ices Carter’s lean thighs, calves and feet, even between his toes, making the younger one twitch because he’s ticklish right there. After that, the only spot that hasn’t had the iced treatment is Carter’s blistering dick, puce-coloured and swollen with boiling blood. With a deft hand, Kovac runs an ice cube down his partner’s shaft and he swears he can almost hear the moisture sizzling and spitting like fat on a grill. John gasps loudly at the cold rush zooming along his cock and hitting him in the gut like an electric current. Luka sucks on the piece of ice and then envelops Carter’s dick with his freezing mouth, the contrasting sensations sending John into a writhing frenzy. Armed with the last chunk of ice, Kovac guides it down over John’s balls, the twin pouches immediately tightening and shrinking with the unwelcome chilliness as if they are trying to crawl back inside of him to flee into the safety of bodily warmth. John squirms and makes a whine of complaint, his reproductive organs too touchy to cope with the shocking blaze of coldness assaulting them.

Thankfully, Kovac guides the ice down lower, along Carter’s cleft, and traces it around his private opening. In that very personal spot, it still feels about a hundred degrees below zero but John soon gets used to it and indeed comes to enjoy the ice touching him there. What he enjoys more than anything is the way Luka is using the frozen object to tantalise him, probing it into the tight ring of muscle just far enough to tease. With each probe, the ice melts a bit more as the further it goes inside John’s body, the hotter it is. Kovac has to be careful not to let the remnant of the cube slip completely inside Carter, although if it did, it would be entirely harmless, melting away as if it was never there. It’s just that this is the last bit of ice he’s got and he wants to maximise its usage before it disappears. Keeping up that teasing movement with the glassy oval of ice grasped in his right hand, Luka curls the other hand around Carter’s stiff dick, hunching over and resuming giving his supine captive an expert blow job, standing between Carter’s parted thighs. With Kovac’s gifted, red-hot mouth swirling up and down his shaft and the wet, slippery sliver the other man is darting into his entrance and back out again like a cold little tongue, driving him to the brink of madness with extremes of fire and ice, John is all but sobbing with pent-up sexual need.

“Luka...Stop,” he begs, tugging on Kovac’s hair to halt his frustrating foreplay and make him get down to business. “I want you. Inside me. Like this. On the bench.”

Luka does not have to be invited twice. Bench sex is not a thing to say no to. Sex with Carter is not a thing to say no to. Hell, he’d even do Carter on a mound of rotting garbage; he wants the kid that much. He flicks the last of the ice into the sink and strips off his pre-come soaked boxers, his spectacular penis bouncing free, engorged to its full width and girth from pleasuring his baby-faced lover.

“Lube?” he prompts Carter, knowing they can’t do it without any.

“Bottom bedroom drawer. Hurry,” John compels him and Kovac sprints off as if he’s attempting to beat a world record. He returns with a plastic bottle in his hand and a huge smirk on his face. He’s brandishing ultrasound gel, the very stuff Kovac had used to jack off in the supply cupboard while John watched him.

“I KNEW you’d take it after I left, you bad boy,” he jibes Carter, snapping open the cap. Propped up on his elbows, John grins, his blush hidden by his already-stained cheeks.

“Couldn’t let you use it all, could I?”

“Judging by how much is gone, I’ll bet you’ve had your share of fun with it,” Luka drawls, squirting the clear emulsion into his hand and smothering it over his aching member. If he was with anyone else but Carter, Kovac would have used a condom. But since they are both medical professionals and very aware of practising strict health, safety and hygiene precautions, they are both free of any infectious diseases. He wouldn’t even dare to offend Carter by asking if he is clean. Kovac knows he is. And Carter isn’t enforcing the no latex-no sex rule. In view of the fact that they are both now in a monogamous relationship, protection isn’t necessary. He is certain John won’t sleep with anyone else but him and Luka damn sure doesn’t want anybody else except the satyr lying there on the counter in front of him, all nude and horny and sweaty, eyes smouldering with desire, tongue flickering over his moist, parted lips, waiting there with his cock hard and his thighs spread open like a fantasy of Kovac’s brought to vivid, technicolour life. The Dirty Doctor. Oh, if only Carter was wearing his stethoscope...

“Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to fuck me, Kovac?”

Carter’s blunt inquiry almost makes Kovac blow his load onto the tiled kitchen floor. The older man is insanely turned on whenever well-mannered John swears like that. Luckily, he manages to contain himself and his sperm.

“I’ll take option number two, thanks John,” he concludes, forgetting that only minutes ago he made a pact with himself that he was NOT going to fuck Carter, but make sweet, sweet love to him. However, because Carter was the one who brought up the ‘F’ word, what else can Luka do but comply? If the kid wants to be fucked then Kovac will bloody well fuck him!

“When I’m done with you, Carter, your voice will be hoarse from moaning my name so loud,” Luka vows boldly, elevating John’s left leg up so that his heel rests on the edge of the bench. John, who had raised himself with his elbows to observe Luka lubing up, lies back down again and prepares to have his virginity taken.

“I suppose you want me scratching at your back too,” he predicts dryly, reminding Kovac of the night he almost succeeded in seducing Carter with his wanton words.

“You’d better,” Luka says and he isn’t joking. He wants John to give him some passion scars. He’ll be disappointed if he doesn’t get any. Well, if he does his job properly, he’ll get them. All he has to do is make Carter come like he’s never came before. He won’t be happy until he achieves that goal. He takes his first two fingers, slick with ultrasound gel, and gently but insistently works them into his lover’s inviting entranceway, the slippery substance making them relatively easy to insert. Carter is loosened somewhat from the probing of the ice but not enough to take all of Luka’s thick length. He joins a third finger to the other two, moving them in and out, opening John up, stretching the elastic band of resistance he’s going to have to push through. Carter whimpers, more than ready.

“Kovac, please...”

After a few more finger-thrusts, Kovac is satisfied that John will be able to accept him with only a minimal amount of pain, if any at all. He raises Carter’s other leg so that both his heels are on the rim of the bench and his thighs are apart and then Luka pulls the virgin forward, lining Carter up with his pelvis. Guiding his lubricated cock down to the correct place, the only place he can go, Kovac slowly and carefully enters him. The head of his dick disappears into the inner sanctum of John’s body first, followed by the shining shaft, an inch at a time. Overwhelmed with the scalding heat and pressure engulfing his veined length, Kovac swears softly in Croatian and controls the urge to shove in too fast. For John’s sake, he takes it slow. Carter has his head turned to the side, eyes closed, breath held. If he feels any discomfort at the penetration, the only sign he shows is his brows drawing together a fraction, and then as Kovac pushes in up to the hilt and stops, his forehead smooths out.

“Are you all right?” Luka asks in consternation. “Did it hurt?”

Shaking his head slightly, Carter opens his eyes. “No. I’m fine.”

“Good. You did good, sweetheart,” Kovac praises John, patting his thigh. John gives him a smile of thanks for being so gentle when he could have easily jammed it in without any regard for his feelings. His trust in Luka is not misplaced. Kovac glances down at their intimate connection, bumping his hips into the first doctor experimentally.

At the burst of pleasure, John tilts his head back and sucks in air through his teeth. His chocolate eyes flutter closed and he waits for the next stroke. Watching raptly, the standing man withdraws up to the top end of his glistering dick, Carter’s internal muscles gripping him tightly and holding his tip in, and slides luxuriously all the way back in again to the base, his balls butting into Carter’s ass. Carter lets out a long sigh of arousal, his fingers clenching into fists and relaxing. His prick throbs on his belly and his pulse throbs inside of him where Kovac can feel it. When Luka repeats the same gliding motion, John lifts his hips and pushes into him, as if he wants it deeper. Kovac thrusts again, a little quicker and with a little extra depth, and Carter moans unintelligibly. The third thrust causes John to moan once more only this time, it’s understandable and it’s Luka’s name.

“Feel nice?” Luka responds.

John breathes, “Oh, yes... Even better than I thought it would...”

Kovac smiles in appreciation. With the hand that has the ultrasound gel on it, Luka grasps Carter’s erection and firmly strokes it. He hears a blasphemous curse flow over Carter’s lips, voice choked and halting, sounding very different to his everyday conversational tone or the commanding bark he uses at work when giving orders. It sounds much like a sob or a plea for mercy. It sounds extremely hot. Luka would never get tired of that sound. He covers John’s hard-on with the gel, using it to stimulate his partner while he’s thrusting. The colourless goo is remarkably slippery and long-lasting and he won’t have to reapply it two or three times unlike some other lubes he’s tried. Luka reasons that he probably doesn’t need to do this. John appears to be that close to climax that he could probably make him come by simply fucking him. But he’s not an expert in man sex so to be on the safe side, if he does this, he knows it will work. He does not want to come before Carter does. To stop himself from getting bunted across the varnished wood surface he’s lying on, John reaches back and clings to the edge of the bench with both hands, hanging on as Kovac screws him.

Driving his dick into his deliciously willing accomplice with increasing speed and energy, Kovac feels the sweat building up on his person again and notes that there is a sheen of it glimmering on Carter’s lithe form too, beading on his forehead and chest. Carter is half gasping – half moaning, eyes shut tight, his flushed face the very picture of sexual abandonment. Perilously bordering on climax, Luka has to think about medical terminology in his head as he fucks Carter, bringing up pages of textbooks he’s studied in the past, concentrating on the complicated words and diagrams to take his mind of the exceptionally sexy act he’s participating in and to prevent his own cork from popping too early. He doesn’t have to think about that stuff for long though, as Carter abruptly reaches up and grabs him, urgently pulling Kovac’s upper body down on top of him, chest to chest, at the same time coiling his legs around Kovac’s middle, drawing him in deep and holding him there, Luka’s cock far inside him. Luka gets those passion scars he wanted for next John rakes his nails down the foreigner’s back like an enraged feral cat while panting out his body-rocking orgasm next to Kovac’s ear.

“God, yes, Luka... Uh...uh...uhh!” Carter is bucking and spasming on the bench underneath him so violently, Luka would almost think the guy is having a seizure if he didn’t know otherwise. His hand still around John’s dick, Kovac feels the organ pulsing as semen cascades out, hitting Kovac’s belly in warm surges. While that is happening, Luka can feel strong internal contractions at regular intervals clenching his own cock and he can’t hold back anymore, exploding into Carter, his seed gushing much like blood gushes out of a punctured jugular vein.

“Ah, ljepota, I love you... love you, love you,” Kovac moans, lapsing into torrents of Croatian cursing and endearments, barely aware of what he’s saying; his release is so intense.

The last of his spasms receding, Carter latches onto Luka’s shoulder with his mouth and sucks hard, giving the older doctor a purple bruise and another scar of passion, albeit a temporary one. He is prudent enough to not give it right on Kovac’s neck, where anyone at work can see it. That would be unprofessional, not to mention embarrassing. This way, it will be hidden under his white coat and only Luka and John will know it’s there.

The two men need a few minutes to recover so they stay connected in the same position, Luka collapsed on top of Carter on the wooden counter top, their breath rapid, sweat mingling, hearts beating against the other’s beneath their ribs. Eventually, Kovac peels his sticky body away from John and carefully withdraws his equally sticky penis. John doesn’t feel unbearable searing pain as he could have, only a mild stretched soreness, as if he’s pulled a minor muscle or ligament. Along with the soreness is a certain strange numbness but the weird sensation is to be expected. It was his first time and he considers himself lucky to have gotten through it virtually unscathed. On the other hand, luck didn’t have much to do with it. Kovac’s skilled preparation was what made the event so hassle-free. Thank God there was no hymen to break through or he’d be feeling a lot more uncomfortable than he is now. Kovac lends John a hand to sit up and John arches his spine, feeling a few vertebrae cracking back into place.

“Shit. How is your back?” Luka asks as both a doctor and an anxious partner, forehead creased, hoping that Carter being banged so roughly didn’t cause his scar to ache. With the boy’s ever-present lumbar problems, remnants of life-saving surgery, he should have known better than to fuck him on the unforgivably hard and non-supportive surface of the wooden bench. He should have taken John to the much softer bed or at the very least, to the couch. Jesus, how inconsiderate of him!

Putting Kovac’s mind at ease, John confirms, “It’s normal. Not even a twinge.” The younger male’s hair is plastered to his scalp with perspiration and his face is all sleepy and pretty and pink with satiated desire, his lips dark and bruised-looking.

“Predivan,” Kovac purrs affectionately, kissing Carter’s hand in a romantic gesture. “You have never looked so beautiful, my darling John.”

John sniffs his own underarm and grimaces. “I don’t smell beautiful. I totally need a shower after that workout.”

“I think we BOTH need showers,” Kovac declares, catching a whiff of his own salty male rankness. He hasn’t sweated this much since his days under the relentless African sun. Speaking of the African sun...

“Carter, you’re not going to leave me and go back to the Congo, are you?” he has to ask the other MD. At the guarded look in Kovac’s eyes, John frowns.

“Why would I do that?”

Shrugging, Luka ventures, “I dunno. Kem.” He says her name so casually but under that nonchalance John can sense Luka’s fretfulness. He squeezes Luka’s hand, the older male evading his gaze.

“Luka, I just let you make love to me. I let you take my virginity right here,” he points out, motioning to the bench he’s sitting on. “That should prove how committed I am to you.”

Kovac tentatively peers up at John through his feathery lashes. “Then you don’t want her back?”

“I don’t want her back. It’s over. It’s been over for ages,” Carter stresses. “It’s you I love, Kovac.” He draws the standing man to him and slips his arms around Kovac in a long hug, chin resting on Kovac’s shoulder.

“I love you,” he repeats softly. “And I swear, I will never leave the continent without you.”

“If you do, I will just follow you,” Kovac threatens, his arms tightening around his slender boyfriend possessively. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to, if it will bring you back to my side.”

“You won’t have to,” Carters assures him. “Because I won’t leave you. As long as you promise me the same.”

“I already did, last night,” Kovac reminds him. “It’s still legitimate.”

“Then we have an understanding?”

“We have an understanding.” Kovac kisses John on the neck, the familiar prickle of his stubble sandpapering John’s skin.

“Good. Great.” John smiles into Kovac’s shoulder, the one with the love bite on it. He hasn’t given anyone a hickey since he was sixteen, believing it to be a juvenile flaunting of sexual activity and something best left back in the school yard. Though he has passed that phase and grown into adulthood, he doesn’t regret the purple stain he left behind on Luka’s flesh. He recalls why young lovers do this. It’s a brand, a visible mark of ownership. It brands Kovac as his, as dumb as it sounds. But he’ll never give Luka one on the neck. When he goes back to work at County and comes out of the closet, he’ll have enough to cope with without people jeering at him for giving Luka a goddamn hickey. If either of them showed up at work with a love bite on their throat, it would be like advertising that they are fucking. Even though it’s true, he believes that what one does in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom. Or kitchen. When the two of them separate, there is an obscene squishy, sucking noise between their torsos and they can’t help laughing at the absurdity of it. There is cum on their bellies, coupled with the now tacky ultrasound gel where it rubbed off from Carter’s dick, the gooey substances smeared onto the front of both of them like jelly onto a sandwich.

“Yeah, showering is the next item on the agenda,” Kovac reinforces.

“And eating. But the pizza’s cold now,” Carter sighs with a cursory glance at the box, feeling his gut rumble with emptiness.

“That’s what microwaves are for, right?” Kovac grins and helps his lover down off the kitchen bench, leading him into the bathroom for some wetness of the cleansing kind before they have their soon-to-be nuked dinner.

Having finished her shift, Abby knocks on the door of Carter’s apartment, wanting to pay him a visit to see if he’s okay. She knows that he wanted to be left alone last night but he might welcome the company now. It was strange not seeing him at the hospital that day. He’s been there for so long that he’s become part of the furniture and when he is absent it’s really noticeable. She has a bunch of flowers for him, a bereavement arrangement of white lilies and roses, traditional funeral flowers, along with a small card. Hearing no answer, she knocks again.

“Carter? You home?”

When there is still no response, she decides that maybe he’s gone to his parents’ house in the country for some time out and takes a key from her pocket. Since John isn’t there, he won’t mind if she goes inside and leaves the flowers for him. She still has Carter’s key from when they were together last , keeping it in case they picked up where they left off, which they might possibly be doing because they were on a date last night, weren’t they? If they are dating again then she has the privilege of entering his apartment whenever she wants and vice versa. She lets herself in and heads for the kitchen cupboard next to the stove. She is filling a crystal vase with water when she realises there are clothes on the floor and an empty ice cube tray on the bench, along with wine and a pizza box. That’s unusual. John is normally very neat and tidy. She spots two glasses on the counter. And a squeezy bottle of ultrasound gel? What is THAT doing here? She frowns, wondering what the hell is going on. If she took a wild guess, she’d say someone else had been here with John, and pretty recently too. Has Kem come back to the States to spend time with Carter? If that jungle woman is back to claim John for herself, Abby will definitely have something to say about it. Wasn’t it Kem that ditched Carter in the first place and took off with his unborn baby? She can’t just dump him and then fly back whenever it suits her, expecting John to run around after her highness like he had been doing when she was here last. She was the one who wanted to escape back to Africa. The only reason she’d be coming back at this point is to get sympathy from John now that the baby is dead. Sympathy and money, the money being to fund her AIDS clinic which she was always harping on about to everyone at County. Abby is sorry that their baby died but that doesn’t give Kem the right to intrude upon John and Abby’s rekindled relationship. As far as Abby is concerned, Kem is out of the picture. Or will be, after Abby is done with her.

With her shoe, the brunette nurse nudges the clothing on the tiled floor and gets even more suspicious when she discerns two lots of men’s trousers and shirts. Hmm, perhaps it’s not Kem who’s spending time with John. She can only think of one other person who it would be. Marching into John’s bedroom for more evidence, she steps into the room just in time to catch Carter exiting the bathroom wearing nothing. Nothing that is, except for Kovac who is wrapped around John like a hairy blanket with arms. Kovac is kissing John with enthusiasm, intent on making love to him again, this time on the soft comfort of the bed. Their damp hair is slicked back and they are stumbling towards the queen-sized mattress in the middle of the room, zealously groping and making out as if they are teenage boys instead of mature adults. They are so engrossed in each other they don’t even notice Abby is in the room. Plus their eyes are closed. Abby’s mouth falls open in astonishment at the unpredicted scene but she restrains any giveaway gasps, maintaining a stunned silence. This is the second time she has caught Luka and John together. She should be angry at John for deceiving her yet again, and a part of her is, but what’s mostly filling her mind is the amazing thought that two guys together is actually kinda sexy. She didn’t think that it would be, especially after the first time when she sprung them in the closet. She was too shocked to find it hot then. But now...now that she can see them completely unaware of her presence, their nude bodies glimmering with water droplets, dozens of contoured muscles, acres of tanned skin, glimpses of dark body hair, two flat, wet chests and stomachs pressed together, two sets of male lips interlocked, two pairs of strong arms and four lean thighs, two toned backs and two perfectly hard asses... There are no words to describe the work of art the embracing men form. Their physical differences complement and balance exquisitely in a mesmerising display of masculine beauty and the way they appear so hungry for each other...Christ. Their need would have touched Abby from a hundred yards away, the fire of their lust singing her like heat from an open fireplace.

This is NOT what she expected to encounter when she let herself in through John’s front door. Well, she muses, her shock beginning to fade, at least John’s not alone. She had been worried about him sitting up here by himself in his tastefully decorated apartment, drowning in his misery with nobody to keep him company. It is apparent that the only thing he’s drowning in at the moment is Kovac. From the impatient yet tender caresses they are exchanging, it’s obvious that the doctors care about each other, to the extent of being in love. That must be why they can’t bear to be apart and why Carter followed Kovac all those miles across the ocean to Africa. She feels a twinge of wistfulness, wishing she could find a relationship like that, wishing she could experience such passionate desire and loyalty. She decides that she isn’t going to hold a permanent grudge against John for going back to his male co-worker because to be honest, she’s never loved John. She cared about him, and cares still, but it wasn’t and isn’t love and never will be. She may be messed up but she knows that much. That’s why she wouldn’t marry him. She certainly didn’t love Kovac either. Seeing as she loves neither of them, how can she protest at their apparently long-running affair?

“So, Carter,” she begins with barely-veiled sarcasm, “I assume you don’t want to date me anymore.”

Yelping in fright, Carter spins around and instinctively covers his genitalia, Kovac not bothering to hide his own nakedness. He’s got nothing to be ashamed of.

“Oh, for Chrissakes. Put a towel on, Kovac,” she chastises, rolling her eyes as if she wasn’t just perving on their very nudity. “And get one for Carter while you’re at it.”

“Why? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” Luka quips defiantly, his semi jutting between his legs proudly. At her thorny glare, he sighs and fetches towels for them both, muttering that it’s Carter’s apartment, not hers, and if they want to walk around cocks-out, they damn well should be able to without intrusive women complaining about it. To avoid further argument, he covers up.

Tucking in the white towel Kovac passes him, John finds his voice and demands, “How did you get in here, Abby?”

She holds up the key with an innocent smile.

“Give me that back,” Carter orders in his domineering doctor’s voice, holding out one hand expectantly. Abby flings the key at him.

“You guys, you’re unbelievable! You are such liars and cheats!”

Face haughty and arrogant, Kovac doesn’t look like he cares one whit what Abby thinks of him but John at least has the grace to appear a trifle guilty for his deception. He shouldn’t have given Abby the impression that he wanted to date her when in actuality, he wanted to date Kovac and always has. He feels bad for using her like that.

“Abby, I’m sorry -” John starts but she makes a noise of disgust, severing his apology mid-sentence.

“Save it. You didn’t look too sorry from where I was standing.”

“C’mon, Abby. Don’t be mad,” Kovac says in a placating tone, trying to make peace once and for all with the twisted love triangle they have all been involved in. Beside John, one hand on his shoulder, Kovac extends the other to her, palm up, in a show of proffering.

“Why don’t you join us?” he proposes invitingly, making John look up at him in surprise. “After all, you HAVE been with both of us before. Not at the same time, though, I grant you that. But we are not all strangers here. Why don’t you come over and make it a party of three?”

Taken aback, Abby replies warily, “And why would I want to do that, Kovac?”

“So we can all kiss and make up,” Kovac answers logically. “We don’t want you to be mad at us. We want you to be happy for us. We are in love. Can’t you see that?”

Grudgingly, Abby concedes, “Yeah, I see it. But what do you two lovebirds need ME for?”

“We want to have a baby,” Luka discloses. “But we need your help with that. With the three of us, we could create life right here, tonight. Will you be the mother of our child, Abby?”

With a horrified expression, Abby exclaims, “No, no, oh God, NO! You have my blessing, okay? I’m happy for you. Just don’t ever ask me that again! Eww!” She shudders in revulsion and quickly leaves the room, and the apartment.

John, gazing perplexedly at Luka, tosses the key onto his bedside drawer and questions, “Why did you ask her that? Do you really want Abby to have our kids?”

Luka laughs, blue eyes twinkling with devilment. “Of course not! I knew she wouldn’t go for it. I just wanted to get rid of her. And it worked. Don’t worry. For fear of getting coerced into impregnation, Nurse Neurotic won’t be bothering either of us again.”

A hint of a smile on his lips, John acknowledges, “You’re much smarter than I give you credit for, Kovac.”

“I know,” Luka says flippantly, with a shrug. He grasps John’s upper arm, thumb stroking the still-damp flesh, and nuzzles Carter’s nose with the tip of his. “I chose to fall in love with YOU, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t have a choice in the matter,” John rebounds, yanking Kovac’s chest hair. “Any more than I did.”

“Well, I may not have had a choice in that,” Luka says, suggestively sliding his hands down John’s back and onto his firmly rounded be-towelled ass, “but I choose to ravage you all night long and the next night after that, and the next...”

“Kovac?”

“Yes, Carter?”

“Shut up and do me.”

Luka shuts up and does just that.

The following day during his lunch break at the hospital, Dr Luka Kovac is secretly fitting a lock to the inside of the supply closet door for future uninterrupted “therapy” sessions with Carter. And stocking up on bottles of ultrasound gel.

Just in case.


***