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The Origin of Storms

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He'd known David would be there. From the moment he'd heard what had happened, somehow he had known. Even when he'd made his excuses at lunch, promising Mona they would have dinner next week. Even though he'd told himself how insane he was for leaving a hundred times on the slow drive home with the rhythm of the windshield wipers his only musical accompaniment.

Somehow, he'd known, and when he saw the figure sitting hunched on the steps, his gut still lurched unpleasantly, the memory of their last meeting a week ago still churning acidly in his stomach.

The rain was still falling in a steady patter, soaking him instantly when he stepped out of the car. He slammed the door and David finally looked up.

David was wet to the skin, his lashes spiked with dampness and this time Bobby couldn't pretend it was just from the rain. His hair was darkened with water as well as his clothes, but his face, his eyes, seemed only paler for it. Not that sweet fairytale-charming pale, but the ghastly white of a horror theme.

They simply stared at each other for a time, eyes meeting through the sheeting rain, speaking volumes between each other through the din of falling droplets.

"I heard..." David's voice was hoarse and he choked on his own words, swallowing hard. "On the radio. I heard...I..." This time it cracked completely, words shattering into silence, and David looked down, resting his forehead on his bent knees.

It wasn't fair, it really wasn't. Bad enough to sleep with a married man, worse to fall for him, and just plain creeping insanity to take him in when said marriage crashed and burned on the rocks.

Chilling rain was seeping in through his coat, dampening him to the skin. It was getting colder; David's hands were fish-white with it, clenched over each other like bloodless little alien creatures. Soaking wet, his hair plastered to his skull and looking just...


"Come on," Bobby said, catching him under the elbow and pulled him to his feet. He ignored the voice of sensibility shrieking at the back of his head in a duet with the throbbing undertone of his pride. They could both shove off for the day. This wasn't the sharp-tongued bastard who'd flung a few daggers thinly disguised as insults at him before traipsing back to his slut of a wife. This was Just David,and from what he'd heard, Just David could use a hell of a friend right now. 'I told you so's' were never as satisfying as you thought they'd be, anyway.

David leaned against him when he stood, wobbling on his feet and Bobby wondered how long he'd been sitting there. Hours, maybe. He'd left for a lunch date around noon, had actually met Mona at the restaurant at about two. David felt like he was lugging about thirty extra pounds of rainwater in his clothes. It was awkward as hell, trying to arrange him so that he was still standing and able to walk up the stairs.

Finally, Bobby slung one of David's arms uselessly around his shoulder and forced David to start moving. Sympathy be damned, he wasn't about to put his back out lugging this idiot up a flight of stairs and they were both going to catch pneumonia if they kept fooling around in the rain.

"Walk!" he snapped when David suddenly hesitated, like he was trying to decide if a nice, warm, dry apartment was really what he wanted right now. That was just too damned bad. He should have made a choice about where he wanted to end up for the evening before he landed his ass on that porch. He brushed aside the feeble resistance impatiently and nearly pushed David up the stairs.

"Out of your damned mind, do you know that?" Bobby muttered, fumbling for his keys with one hand and keeping a hold of David with the other. He wouldn't put it past him to suddenly take off and go sprinting into the storm. That was a comedy of errors he didn't feel like performing tonight. Besides, he wasn't half the runner David was and he'd probably break his own fool neck gallivanting after him like some sort of deranged Prince Charming.

"I used to enjoy my life, you know," Bobby told his silent not-quite-lover as he pushed him into the foyer. David just stood there like he'd never seen the place before, dripping on the very nice, if not as pricey as it looked, rug, until Bobby sighed impatiently and began stripping off his clothes. "Yep, life was good. I had some money, some sex, and a good haircut. And then I met you."

"I enjoyed my life, too." David voice startled him. Out of the pounding rain, it sounded even worse, more like he'd been yodeling with a mouthful of broken glass. Quite abruptly, Bobby felt like a complete asshole. Jesus, the guy's wife had just dumped him, and queen of the bitches or not, he'd loved her. And here he was bitching about his own life. Pretty pathetic, Vaughn, he told himself, stripping off David's shirt briskly before attacking the fastenings of his jeans. There was nothing worse in the universe to remove than wet denim, especially with David standing there passively, moving only when Bobby made him.

"Give us a hand here, will you? Most of the people I undress are a little more willing." David made a small, harsh noise above him and Bobby winced, biting his tongue. Must be a special today on Foot In Mouth. From unfaithful wife to never pretended to be faithful sort-of boyfriend. How low have you sunk today, my friend, Bobby wondered sourly, working the wet material down David's thighs.

The serious unfairness of his life slapped him in the face again when Bobby lifted his head and realized David's crotch was almost as close. Damp boxer shorts hid exactly nothing from his suddenly all-seeing eyes and his own body leapt into predicable reaction, his dick going from weekend relaxed to sudden, painful hardness in what felt like two seconds.

No. No way. Let's try to keep the stupidity levels down to minimal damage today, all right, Bobby told it silently. Of course, not being able to reason with his cock had always been his downfall and it ignored his plea, wedging itself into the most uncomfortable position possible within his own wet trousers. He finally sat on the floor, puddles be damned, and managed to work the evil fucking jeans off David's feet, dragging his socks and shoes with them in a mangled knot of clothing.

He tossed the whole mess into the corner behind the door. To hell with it, this was why he had a cleaning lady. Still sitting on the floor, he pulled his own shirt over his head, fumbling slightly when he felt hands helping him pull the damp material clear. His arms slid abruptly free and he reached out automatically to steady himself, his hands catching on the only thing in front of him, David's legs. Clammy with cold and bone-white it was almost more like touching a corpse, that same shuddery revulsion, but once settled, his hands didn't seem to want to let go, curling reflexively around the muscles as though to offer some of his own warmth to that iciness.

David's fingers were suddenly damp and cold against his cheeks, touching softly, and no, please, he'd done his good deed for the day. He'd taken David in from the rain. Asking for anything more was a betrayal of self that he just couldn't do but his hands were moving, catching the edge of David's boxers and easing them down.

He pulled the elastic waist out with one fingertip at the front, carefully guiding it past David's cock, and yeah, he was hard, of course he was hard. What moron had someone kneeling at their feet and didn't think of blowjob possibilities? Not this one.

Hard or not, even his cock felt cool to the touch. Bobby cradled it in his palms, pressing his lips against the base and breathing in the scent of it. Musty from the rain, the faint scent of his soap rebirthed from the wet, and it was far too easy to let his tongue skid over the damp skin, breathing some blush of heat into it.

Of all the skills he had, the ones in cocksucking had always gotten him in the most trouble. Bobby knew tonight wasn't going to be an exception. That's what had gotten him the first time, not the baby blues or the blond hair, not even that prissy little accent. No, it was the urge, the need to be on his knees, sucking hard with someone's -- David's -- fingers curled into his hair, his nose buried in soft blond curls.

David's hips were smooth and cold as glass beneath his hands, trembling faintly when he licked a clear droplet from the tip, the first touch of sultry warmth on his tongue. The floor was too hard for kneeling and Bobby's pants were damp, sticking to him in uncomfortable ways. A dozen little irritants prickling at him that he ignored. David tasted clean and fresh, no hint of overbearing perfumes or colognes, just sweet skin and Bobby sucked softly, luxuriating in the simple pleasure of it.

This was going to fuck him over; he knew it. David's hands were resting on his shoulders and he wished they were in his hair. To ask would require using his mouth and it was happily occupied. He didn't think about how stupid this was, ripping the scab off after he'd just started healing, and instead licked a tattoo of patterns over David's cock, backing off carefully every time he tried to push deeper.

It was easy to get lost in the tantalizing feel of that shaft sliding between his lips, silky skin and the occasional soft touch of hair kissing his lips. Nothing but the growing slick salt of it, slippery on his tongue while he traced words with the tip of his tongue that he wouldn't, couldn't say out loud. Not to this man.

"Robert..." Faintly, a plea, and Bobby realized that David was swaying a little, the combination of sex and cold a little too much, and all right, he could give a little here, this was a safe place to be. Safer than a few others, anyway. He let it go faster, cupping David's ass in his hands and feeling the muscles flex beneath his fingertips as he thrust slowly into Bobby's mouth.

The growing ache in his jaw was frightfully easy to ignore, when all he wanted was a little more, tracing the cleft of David's ass with one fingertip and choking down the urge to gag when it gifted him with a clumsy, helpless shove. One little touch was apparently enough and Bobby despaired at the sudden wash of heat over his tongue, everything unraveling into a single flood at the end of the rain. He couldn't help the bitterness low in his stomach, stronger than the taste on the back of his tongue that couldn't be swallowed away.

Just a cocksucker, someone to pour it all into whenever he was needed.

He should have known David was going to collapse --his inner psychic seemed to have taken the rest of the night off after the last few warnings-- and he barely caught him before he would have crashed painfully to the floor. His skin was still clammy, too pale and gleaming ironically now with sweat, and psychic or not, he knew what was coming next, braced himself for an entirely new storm.

A replacement for cold, the droplets scalded his back. David's arms were laced around his neck, gripping him like he never intended to let go. Finally, finally he had those hands in his hair but he hadn't wanted it like this, not like this, short nails digging into his scalp. His own throat tightened, impossible to swallow through as the storm suddenly broke and David cried, harshly, each sob torn from his chest like it was killing him. Maybe it was.

He'd never wanted to see this. Didn't want to remember later that David could hurt like this but life was fucking unfair, and he'd let David into his house. Opened the door and invited him in. Who could blame him for taking the invitation?

"They are going to take my children away from me," David cried out suddenly, words spilling from him as fast as his tears, half muffled against Bobby's naked shoulder. "They're taking everything from me and there is nothing I can do to stop them! Oh, God," David whispered, nearly gagging on his own voice. "What am I supposed to do? I can't do anything...I can't..."

I know how you feel, Bobby thought, but didn't say it aloud. He pressed a soft kiss against David's temple and rocked him silently, sitting in cold puddles of rainwater and waiting for the storm to end.