Disclaimer - I don't own them, never will and this is not done for any kind of profit. I didn't even have fun writing it - honest!

Testament to Love
by Queenie

"No!" It was happening again. Five months previously, Jesse had been attacked and brutally assaulted. He had lain in a coma for 5 days, unaware of the world around him and completely oblivious to his friends' anguish and the fact that Steve was falling apart. When he finally awoke, it was to find his lover sitting at his bedside, tears streaming down his cheeks and the dark bruising under his eyes making it look like he had been to hell and back.
Ever the consummate doctor and worried friend, Jesse's first concern had been for the other man, but his gentle, 'Steve, are you okay?' had only elicited fresh tears as the detective struggled to cope with his mounting guilt - guilt because he hadn't been there to save his beloved from what had befallen him.
Mark's entrance at that point had effectively halted further discussion between them as he bustled around, checking his patient's vital signs and announcing himself well satisfied with the results. Then he had regarded Jesse with an uncharacteristic hesitance. He had been reluctant to voice the question they all needed answering, but was forced, finally, to ask. "Jess," he had said, in a soft voice filled with concern, "What do you remember?"
The query had had a devastating effect on the young man, as a torrent of ghastly memories spewed forth into his mind, overwhelming him with their power and horror. He had cried out in mingled protest and anguish and had found himself suddenly enveloped in the loving embrace of his partner, the arms holding him looser than normal in deference to his terrible injuries. He had leaned into the support, feeling Steve's love surrounding him, making a safe haven where he could hide from the world.
It had been that way ever since. Steve freely offering his love and protection, Jesse gratefully partaking of it. That and the support and love he had received from Mark and Amanda had bolstered him through the dark days - and there had been many of those. His recovery had been slow - both physically and psychologically and there had been moments when the darkness had all but claimed him. But through it all, shining like a beacon in the night had been Steve's presence at his side, helping him out of the mental fugue until he had gradually started living again.
Now the bleak moments occurred less frequently. Although there were still occasions when he struggled with his inner demons.
He had returned to life and to work, even managing to look and sound like the Jesse of old. Something had fundamentally changed within him, however and although he didn't seem to have noticed it, his friends and his lover could see it in the expressive azure eyes which were one of his most prominent features.
There were shadows there, now, where none had been before and the spark of light had been all but extinguished, the spontaneous joy and exuberance, so integral a part of his nature, seemingly vanished without a trace. He still smiled and laughed, still joked around with his colleagues and the staff, but the life had gone out of him. The purity of his spirit had not just been tainted, it had been snuffed out and those who loved him mourned its absence.
None more so than Steve.
His protectiveness had never faltered. If anything, it had strengthened since Jesse's recovery. The younger man at first basked in the warmth of it; the only time he felt truly safe being when he was wrapped in Steve's strong arms. But eventually, he had begun to feel stifled and had made a conscious effort to gain back a little of his independence - to no avail. Steve, still haunted by the memory of finding his lover lying in a pool of his own blood, his smooth skin marred by untold welts, cuts and contusions, was not about to abandon him again and thus commenced a battle for supremacy, with both sides too involved with the other to see that it was destroying them.

It came to a head one night. Steve had driven over to the hospital to pick Jesse up. Jesse had suppressed the rising frustration he felt at what he perceived as Steve's inability to allow him some freedom and had reluctantly consented, leaving his own car at the hospital overnight. Once home, however …
"You can't follow me around forever," he had told his astonished lover, firmly.
Steve was bewildered by the younger man's obvious antagonism. "Why?" he demanded.
"Because you have a life!" Jesse pointed out.
"You are my life," Steve whispered, his voice husky. "Jess …"
"Oh god …" Jesse murmured as the taller man took him in his arms and pressed their lips together. "Steve …"
They kissed hungrily, devouring each other's mouths as their tongues battled for dominance. The heat generated by the matching bulges in their pants was overpowering them. "Jess …" whispered Steve. "Oh jesus …"
"Shut up," growled the young doctor, pulling his lover in for another searing kiss. The incandescence of their mutual passion made normally dextrous fingers fumble with buttons and zips as, plastered to each other, they made their way clumsily into the bedroom and tumbled onto the bed.
Soon, hastily discarded clothing lay scattered on the floor and their naked bodies rubbed against one another in delicious friction. Freed from their restrictions, their engorged shafts slid along each other, and Jesse let out a moan as Steve's hand encircled both slick lengths. The taller man's athletic form completely covered the smaller figure, and both were writhing, incoherent with need. Closing his eyes, the detective ducked his head into the delicious area between Jesse's neck and collarbone and nipped at the skin, marking his prey as he did so.
Jesse's moans were almost constant as the older man traversed his compact body, resting for a moment or two on the two red protuberances on his chest. He suckled for a moment on the right one, then blew on it, repeating the process with the left and returning to the other side to lengthen the torture. It was exquisite agony for Jesse, whose questing fingers had located the other man's tight sacs and were eagerly and expertly manipulating them, squeezing, pressing, stroking, until the older man was ready to scream.
With a muffled roar, Steve slid down his mate's body and the nimble fingers fell away, to grasp the bedclothes as the detective found the ultimate prize. Kneeling between Jesse's legs he glanced upward, leering at the breathless blond, and then hitched in a breath as Jesse spread his legs wantonly, bringing his knees upward to give his lover better access to his entrance. Jesse's turgid member stood erect, glistening with pre-cum, begging to be taken and Steve was not one to take his responsibilities in this area lightly. Bobbing his head, he thrust out his tongue and lightly licked the purpling head, savouring the liquid which seeped from it. Then, getting more adventurous, he poked the tip of his tongue into the slit, moving it backwards and forwards in slow motion until he felt his mate on the brink of orgasm. Then he stopped, rubbing one calming hand on Jesse's stomach, and with a wicked gleam in his eye, took aim at the other man's belly button and laved it with his tongue. Before long, however, he tired of this, needing to take things to another level, and returned to the tumescent cock which was demanding his attention. Another few licks with his eager tongue, this time from top to bottom and back again and once more, Jesse was on the verge. Then Steve took the entire organ in his mouth, sucking, pulling, probing with his ever-eager, skilful tongue. His hands went to Jesse's balls, and he grinned around his mouthful, recognising from their firmness how full they were. One hand strayed to the puckered hole behind them and entered, easing its way past the tight ring of muscle and stroking its way further inside. Jesse was trembling violently by now, then, suddenly, as the finger quested further, he screamed loudly and shot his load straight into Steve's mouth.
The detective swallowed convulsively, eagerly devouring his lover's seed, and continued pulling on the other man's shaft until it was limp. Reluctantly letting it fall from his mouth, he concentrated on what his fingers were doing, very aware that his own cock was straining with need and could sense its destination. Another finger was inserted, and they scissored gently, widening the entry. A third slipped in and elicited a low gasp from Jesse. Steve glanced upward toward that beloved face, but only passion was painted on the expressive features. Jesse's eyes were widely dilated and he had his head pushed back into the mattress. His entire body was quaking with desire and he was pushing down involuntarily onto Steve's fingers as they readied him. The detective pushed a final time and hit Jesse's sweet spot, whereupon he howled, and, when he finally got sufficient breath back to speak, lifted his head to look Steve squarely in the eyes. "Do it!" he ordered, hoarsely. "Fuck me!"
"Your wish is my command," Steve teased, his own voice unsteady. Removing his fingers, he hurriedly extracted some lube from the bedside drawer, smoothed it on his aching length, then placed his cock at the entrance to Jesse's body and pushed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the bulging shaft thrust further and further forward until, at last, he was balls-deep inside his lover's body. Glancing upward for permission and getting a curt nod, he withdrew almost completely, then pushed his way inside again and again, each time, the friction of his lover's anal walls against his own tumescent length bringing him closer and closer to fruition. He could feel Jesse's renewed erection pressing against his stomach and brought up his hand to enclose it, manipulating the skin up and down, up and down as his penis plunged in and out, in and out. Just as he hit Jesse's prostate again, bringing a strangulated gasp from his mate, he exploded in an orgasm so intense that for a second, he blacked out.
When he came to his senses again, it was to discover his hand still wrapped around Jesse's flaccid cock, the pearly essence which had spurted from it streaming over his hand and across the young doctor's flat stomach.
"God, Jess …" he gasped.
"I know," came the breathy response. "God, I'm exhausted."
"Then sleep," Steve suggested, winding his arms around the slender form, frowning slightly as he encountered more bone than he was accustomed to. "Jess … have you lost weight?"
There was silence for a moment or two, then, "Maybe." It was offhand, cool and Steve's frown deepened. "Why?"
"It's just … well, you don't have a lot of weight to lose." Steve was very aware of the temperature change within the room within the last few seconds. From a wanton, needy, almost animalistic creature of lust, Jesse had suddenly turned to frost in his arms. It both worried and alarmed him.
Sure enough, the next moment Jesse wriggled out of his embrace, sitting up in bed to throw him a challenging look. "I think I'm incapable of looking after myself, if that's what you're implying," he snapped. "Well? Is it?"
Steve regarded him warily for a second. "Jess …"
"Just … answer my question, Steve!" Anger coloured the normally gentle voice. "You think I'm inept at taking care of myself, is that it?"
"No!" Steve didn't even care that it was a lie. He would have said anything at this point to calm his young lover down.
"Then what?" demanded the other man. "What is it that has you so worked up?"
"I'm not worked up," Steve temporised. "I'm just …"
"Just what?"
"Are you all right, Jess? Only you seem … "
"Seem what?" Jesse's eyes had narrowed as Steve's questioning - gentle and born of concern as it was - continued. He had left the bed now and was standing before his friend, his eyes flashing fire.
The older man threw back the sheets and moved carefully toward him. "I love you, Jesse," he said, carefully. "I just worry about you, that's all. Aren't I allowed to worry?"
Jesse regarded him doubtfully, the anger subsiding slightly as Steve reached out toward him. "Are you sure that's all it is?" he asked, suspiciously. "You're just concerned because you're … concerned?"
Steve nodded, and the younger man smiled ruefully before stepping forward to be embraced by the tall detective. "Well, if that's all it is …" murmured Jesse, his voice muffled as he burrowed into his lover's chest.
"Well, you know, your behaviour has been a little 'off' recently …" Even as Steve uttered the words, he regretted saying them, as Jesse stiffened in his arms and pulled away. The face that looked up at him bore an expression he had never seen before on those beloved features. It sent a chill down his spine.
"'Off'?" Jesse echoed, frostily. "You think my behaviour is 'off'?"
"Jesse, I didn't mean …"
"I was attacked, Steve," Jesse went on, as though he hadn't heard the attempted interruption. "I think I'm entitled to a little leeway with my behaviour. And if it bothers you so much, why don't you just leave?"
"Jess …"
"Don't 'Jess' me," the young man interjected, his voice laced with a cold anger. "You don't like my behaviour - well, that's tough shit, because it's who I am and if you don't like who I am, then we might as well end this relationship here and now. In fact," he continued, ignoring Steve's gasp of alarm, "why don't we end this relationship … such as it is."
"Such as it is?" echoed Steve, horrified that his words had had such a dire effect. "Wh .. what d'you mean?"
"I mean that I want out of this relationship. This … this 'thing' that we have which is no longer working for me," snarled the younger man. "I don't want you around any more. I don't care if I never see you again!"
Steve felt his throat close up at the words which were coming out of his lover's mouth. Jesse's features were suffused with rage, his eyes were brilliant pinpoints of icy blue and his stance screamed 'don't touch me!' Yet beneath the glacial fury, Steve could see the pain that was motivating it. It was evident in the way the young doctor's hands were clenching and unclenching and in the convulsive swallowing which punctuated every sentence. He knew his young lover well, could read every facet of him. Jesse wore his heart on his sleeve and his expressive face and eyes showed every emotion. And his emotions were currently at war with each other.
"… you think you've been doing such a great job, protecting me," Jesse was continuing, blithely unaware of Steve's close scrutiny of him. "Well, I don't need you! Everywhere I turn … there you are!"
"I thought that's what you wanted," protested Steve, helplessly. "Jesse, I …"
"Well, I don't!" snapped the young doctor. He clenched his hands again, Steve noticed, this time so tightly that his nails drew blood. The detective longed to take those bloody palms in his and kiss them better, but his sweet, compassionate, gentle Jesse had been temporarily been displaced by this angry, pain-filled young man who was lashing out at the nearest person - him - and that particular young man wouldn't stand for coddling at the moment. "I don't want you at the hospital, I don't want you escorting me to my car, I don't want you here … I don't want you!" The last three words were a scream of desperation and Steve winced at the torment which had prompted them. Still, he didn't attempt to comfort his lover. Maybe this uncharacteristic outburst was what Jesse needed to finally lay his ghosts to rest and if so, then he would be a willing participant in that process.
"I don't know why I ever thought this would work." Jesse had commenced pacing now, his nervous energy demanding an outlet, not satisfied with the pain he was inflicting on his mate. "We're too different. I don't need someone who wants to smother me. I don't need someone whose idea of a good time is burgers and a game on TV. That's old man stuff. You're an old man compared with me. I need something different .. I need someone who isn't you. You're staid and boring and .. and you're too old for me. And I can't deal with that any more."
If Jesse had scooped out his heart with a rusty spoon, Steve couldn't have felt more pain. It threatened to swallow him whole as he heard his worst fear emerge from his lover's lips. The younger man knew all of his secrets, all of his deepest and darkest doubts about himself and their relationship. During their time together neither of them had held anything back, both needing to share everything they were with each other, body and soul. And it had come back to bite him in the ass, big time.
Still, he held onto his composure. He knew, instinctively, in his heart, that Jesse didn't mean any of this, that he was using his knowledge of Steve to deliberately hurt him, to drive him away. Why, Steve couldn't begin to fathom a guess. Jesse loved him. He knew that, despite the hurtful words spewing thoughtlessly from his lips. And Jesse needed him, just like he needed Jesse. Unfortunately Jesse himself seemed to have other ideas about what he needed.
The last thing Steve wanted to do was to leave the young man to deal with his demons alone. He wanted to be there to help him, to hold him, to comfort Jesse when the nightmares plagued him and woke him up screaming, which they did night after night, after which he would sob in Steve's arms for an hour or so until he fell into a restless, non-restorative sleep which left him even more exhausted than he had been before they went to bed. But Jesse was still flinging vindictive, horrid words in his direction. Words designed to inflict pain, words which under normal circumstances would never have even have entered his head, let alone emerged from his mouth.
It seemed that the best thing to do was to leave - even though the very thought of doing so felt like a betrayal of Jesse and of what they shared.
Maybe if he left his lover alone for a couple of days - surreptitiously checking on him, of course - then he would come through all this and they could get back to what mattered - their love for each other. Because he was still convinced that Jesse loved him. Despite the cruel, hateful words which were pouring from the other man, his belief in their love was unshakeable and he wasn't about to let go.
"Why don't you leave?" screamed. Jesse, glaring at the other man and stepping forward to physically push him toward the door. "Why don't you leave and never come back!"
Steve fought back tears. He felt so helpless. He couldn't bear to see his lover in so much agony, but he couldn't do anything about it. He had tried being protective, he had tried being supportive. It had worked - up to a point - but it seemed that the younger man needed something else and if it took him leaving to give that to him, then it was a price he was willing to pay. But it was a heavy one. It was one that he didn't want to face. Still … "Okay," he said, heavily, bowing his head and turning toward the door. "Okay, Jesse, I'll leave. I … " He couldn't say any more as his throat closed up. So, trying to conceal his own pain - which refused to be mollified despite his own belief in Jesse's love - he turned the handle, opened the door, and left, hearing it slam behind him with a finality which sent a shudder running through his body.

On the other side of the door, the young doctor stood motionless. He was shaking from head to toe and breathing hard. Anger still seethed within him, a rage which had settled in the pit of his stomach and refused to let go. A scuffling sound from the hall told him that Steve was still standing outside his apartment and he made to wrench the door open to scream at the other man to leave him alone once and for all. He paused as he heard the footsteps, receding down the hallway, then the elevator bell ringing. The sliding sound of the elevator doors seemed to reverberate around his tiny apartment and as they closed, he fell forward against the door, sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap, his anger turning to anguish as he realised that Steve had gone.
"Don't leave me," he whispered, raggedly, his palm flat on the door, as though he could feel the residual presence of his lover. "Please … don't leave me. Come back, Steve … please … oh god, come back …"

The young doctor spent a restless night after so effectively dismissing his friend and partner. A myriad of thoughts and emotions plagued him, seesawing him backward and forward between deep remorse at what he had said and done and relief that he was at last able to be alone with his thoughts. All the same, Jesse bitterly regretted his words. Yet, at the same time, a rebellious part of him revelled in his newfound freedom. He never once considered that his merciless verbal attack on his lover might drive Steve away. They had had the occasional argument in the past. Never once, however, had either of them doubted each other's love. The possibility of Steve believing what Jesse had said didn't even occur to him - or, if it did, it was shoved to the furthest recesses of his mind and filed away under 'not possible'.
When Steve didn't show up at his apartment the next night, however, and remained absent on subsequent evenings, with nary a telephone call nor any other kind of message, Jesse's enjoyment of his newly gained independence quickly waned and died. At first, he couldn't believe that Steve had taken him seriously. Surely the detective knew by now that Jesse couldn't live without him? That he would rather cut off his hands and end his career as a surgeon rather than lose the love of his life? But as more time elapsed with no sign of the other man, Jesse grew increasingly frightened that his actions had indeed driven Steve away and his freedom quickly became a restrictive cage of despondency instead.
Maybe Steve had taken him at his word. Maybe he was never coming back. The very prospect of this elicited more pain than he had imagined it was possible to endure.
Five days later, with still no sign of his lover, he was ready to climb the walls. He had not been alone since the night of the attack; had dreaded the prospect; and yet here he was, all on his own.

And now he was reliving it all over again, in glorious technicolour and surroundsound. All the pain and terror of that night had returned to envelop him, crushing him in its insidious embrace. And this time, as he woke up screaming, sweat pouring off his scarred body, his mind and emotions in utter torment, there was no-one there. There was no one to hear him subside into hysterical sobbing, no loving arms wrapping themselves around him, no soft crooning voice whispering nonsensical words of comfort and no gentle hand softly stroking his brow, bestowing soft kisses on his sweat-stained hair. There was no-one here now to make the pain go away. He was alone, truly alone, and as he wept uncontrollably, caught up in the remnants of the terrible nightmare which had so recently been a real event, he wondered if this was what purgatory felt like.

They had been waiting for him when he arrived home late one night after a particularly gruelling shift. There had been a fire in a seedy tenement block. Two hundred poor people, unable to afford anywhere better, had resided there, Scores had been killed, even more badly burnt. Some had tried to escape the flames by leaping from windows, only to get themselves killed or sustain terrible injuries as their fragile bodies impacted with the sidewalk. Some had been caught in the flames and had been killed or terribly burned. Others had smoke-related injuries and several of them had succumbed to the toxic fumes.

He had been exhausted, distracted by the memories of those he had treated that night, and especially those he had lost. His attention thus diverted, he had been totally unprepared for the attack, which had come out of nowhere. One moment he had been walking from his car to his building, his tired body barely capable of dragging itself the few feet toward the elevator shaft in the car park, the next he had been sprawled on the ground, floored by a sudden terrible pain that had flared in his shoulder blades.
Lying there, dazed, he had wondered for a moment what the hell was going on, then into his peripheral vision, still blurred with the agony which shot through his upper torso from the initial blow, had appeared several pairs of feet. He remembered thinking that one of them was wearing a great looking pair of boots, then another searing pain had reverberated through him as one of his attackers, who had thus far remained silent, kicked him viciously in the ribs. Groaning with the pain, he had curled up into it, trying to both prevent it from escalating and protect his body from further attack.
It hadn't worked.
Several pairs of hands had pulled him upright, hauling him to his feet so he could face them. The agony lancing through his side and shoulders was making it difficult to concentrate, and his vision was blurred. They had uttered cruel, vile words about him and his relationship with Steve, calling him a 'sick pervert' and a 'revolting little queer'. He had heard similar terms before, sometimes aimed at him, more often aimed at gay friends back in college. Nothing they said could shock him - or so he thought. Until they had gone on to describe what they were going to do to him to make sure that he never again participated in sex.
He had only just digested his revulsion and utter dread at their words when suddenly, horrifyingly, they started tearing at his clothes, ripping his jacket and shirt away, wrenching his jeans and shorts from his frantically struggling body. He kicked out desperately but they were too strong for him, catching his flailing legs and arms in a firm grip even as he twisted and writhed, trying to escape them. Then tape was placed over his mouth and secured his hands and he was flung against one of the concrete columns and held there. Tears of rage, frustration and terror streamed down his cheeks as he waited for them to do their worst.
Suddenly, shockingly, a pain such as he had never felt before tore down his back. Another one followed, and another. The agony was intense, and seemingly never-ending. He didn't know what they were whipping him with, and really didn't care - Steve had later told him that it had been a piece of chain - all he knew was unremitting pain. It tore through him, searing his nerve-endings, causing nausea to roil in his stomach as the torture went on relentlessly. The first blazing stroke with the chain had elicited a scream of torment, muffled by the tape. The next had brought forth a hoarse cry. Each fresh lash down his back opened up a new adventure in agony and eventually, he was reduced to soft, pitiful whimpers.
Eventually, they tired of this form of inflicting damage and there was a pause in the proceedings. It brought no relief to the suffering young man, however, who was too immersed in his fight against oblivion to care. He could feel the warm, sticky wetness on his lacerated back as the blood ran freely and dripped onto the ground around him. His skin had been flayed with the chain as it caught in the soft flesh and ripped it open. The pain was appalling, and throbbed with every beat of his pounding heart. He didn't have the breath to even whimper any more, but sobbed silently, every quiver of his mutilated body increasing the white heat across his back
Two of the men had held him there, laughing uproariously over his battered form whilst the others left for a moment or two. He was shivering in unspeakable terror of what they were going to do next. He couldn't even summon up the energy to struggle, although his mind was screaming at him to run, get away. Then, before he had the chance to form a coherent thought or attempt to flee what was still to come, the other men returned. One of them bent close to him and, with a cruel smile, ripped the tape from his mouth. The burning pain from this paled in comparison to what was assailing the rest of his body but extracted yet another whimper from his abused throat.
Then, as the man's fetid breath - fish and garlic and something unidentifiable - wafted into his face, his stomach finally revolted. The next moment he had vomited up all the food he had eaten that day - right on top of the man's fancy boots. He didn't have time to feel any sense of satisfaction over this, however, as the man's beefy hand caught him a glancing blow to his face, knocking his head back so far he thought it was going to break his neck. The man's large, ornate ring had sliced open his cheek and fresh blood poured out of his body, running down his face to drip off his chin.
"You know what we're gonna do to you, you little faggot?" demanded the man with the ruined boots. "We're gonna make sure you never fuck another guy or get fucked again! And I wanna hear you scream … I wanna hear you beg us for mercy … and we're not gonna give you any!"
"Oh god…" Jesse had struggled anew when he had seen what the man was carrying. A small saw. The jagged edges gleamed wickedly in the overhead lights of the carpark. He had no delusions about what they intended to do with that. They intended to castrate him … slowly. Oh god - it didn't even bear thinking about.
His attempts at resistance were completely futile, of course. There were four of them - big, burly men with muscles and the added advantage of height. He had no chance of escape. But he couldn't let them do what they were going to do. He just couldn't. Utter terror and desperation lent him strength but he was rewarded with a beating so thorough that not one section of his body was left unmarked. His back did not escape the punishment, even though the flesh was shredded and bleeding profusely.
Each fresh blow that landed threw him into the concrete pillar, and his face received most of the damage from it as his cheek and nose was slammed again and again into the cold stone. One burly fist rammed into his ribcage and he felt bones crack; another one smashed into his stomach and he nearly threw up again. Then something hard and unyielding impacted hard with his lower back and he gagged helplessly and would have fallen to his knees had he not been held up. The object swung again. He heard the 'whoosh' of air and then let out a scream of terror and agony combined as it struck his upper spine
Another moment or two elapsed without incident. Jesse's tortured body, a mass of blood and bruises, quivered uncontrollably in the hands of the two men holding him up. His last hoarse scream had completely stolen his voice and he whimpered softly, continuously, as the ordeal continued.
Raucous laughter preceded the next 'punishment'. Jesse couldn't see what they were doing but felt it the next moment as his anal passage was roughly invaded by something sharp and metallic. He hitched in a breath, not daring to move lest it be a knife or something equally sharp. But he was shaking so much that had it been something of that sort he would have been cut to ribbons anyway. It was a screwdriver - a large one, rammed up his passage and manoeuvered to cause as much damage as possible. The men were enjoying themselves - that much was obvious. Their victim was racked with agony, his body a mass of ruinous welts, cuts and contusions, his back sliced open and blood was now flowing from his anal passage too.
One of them picked up the saw, intending to finish the job they had started but the squeal of tires alerted them to the fact that someone was coming and, suddenly, blessedly, they were gone, their footsteps receding as the car that had scared them off appeared up the ramp.
Jesse's legs refused to hold him up and he collapsed to the concrete in an inelegant heap. As his body hit the cold, hard stone, he thought he heard the car screech to a halt, then a horrified voice. It sounded familiar but, even as he tried to place it, darkness closed in with startling rapidity and he sank into oblivion.

It had been Steve who had found him, aghast at the horrific injuries; even more horrified that this was his lover who had been so brutally assaulted. Somehow, through his shock, he had had the presence of mind to call 911, then he had called his father to prepare him. The trip to the hospital was not one he would ever forget, as he told Jesse much, much later. The paramedics had to revive the young doctor twice when his heart stopped beating. The injuries were so severe, the blood loss so massive and the internal organs - which had been smashed by a blunt instrument (a baseball bat, they later discovered) so badly damaged that he had not been expected to survive. Which had explained Steve's constant presence at his bedside and the way he had looked when Jesse had finally awoken.
The detective had barely slept during the investigation into Jesse's attack and once the young doctor was awake and lucid, he had been able to give them further clues about the identities of the men who had almost killed him.
Extensive enquiries, Steve's persistence and the help of Mark and Amanda had finally brought the perpetrators to justice. Jesse had not been called to give evidence because one of them had turned State's evidence and, in return for protection and lesser jail time had told the cops - and subsequently the courts - everything about both Jesse's attack and several other attacks on young men and women in the area.
The young doctor had not been fit enough to attend the trial - even had he wanted to, which he didn't - and in any case, it transpired that, despite the terrible injuries which had almost taken his life, his had not been the worst of their assaults. One of their other victims had somehow survived his own gruesome ordeal and had been called on to identify them and give evidence. The young man had been permanently scarred and put in a wheelchair for life. His testimony alone had sealed their fate.
Thus Jesse's name was never mentioned. He was simply referred to as another victim. If the young doctor ever wondered about the reasons for this, then he never questioned it. Had he done so, he may have discovered that several people in high places owed Mark Sloan a few favours and he had called in some markers to ensure that Jesse did not suffer anything beyond what he was already enduring.

It had been a long and arduous few months. Jesse's physical recovery had taken time - his lacerated back would always bear the scars from the attack and the screwdriver assault had very nearly accomplished the job for which it had been intended. But as the days and weeks passed, his injuries healed and his physical health gradually improved. His emotional rehabilitation, however, had taken longer and even after he had completed his sessions with his psychologist, there were still the nightmares to contend with - on an almost daily basis. His friends' constant presence and guidance had helped, and Steve's love and support had been a nightly refuge after he had awoken, fighting for breath and quivering violently in mortal terror.
But Steve wasn't here any longer, and thus he was forced to endure his nightmares alone.

Steve was not enjoying his enforced break from the young man. After his departure from Jesse's apartment, he had returned home, where his father, concerned by his son's pallid complexion and his distraught manner, had put two and two together and come up with four.
Mark had been very much afraid of something like this. Jesse Travis had always been fiercely independent. It had only been a matter of time before Steve's smothering would grate on his nerves and he would be asked to 'back off'. But even he had been both surprised and disturbed by Jesse's venomous attack. And as concerned as he was for his son, he was equally anxious about his young friend's state of mind.
Clearly, Jesse wasn't nearly as emotionally stable as he had tried to appear.
It would not benefit either of them if Steve were to return before the young doctor had had the opportunity to expel all the residual anger and other emotions which he had suppressed all these months. The detective was not a punching bag. He was a human being. And he could not be expected to tolerate the abuse Jesse had handed out to him that night on a regular basis.
And when Jesse finally came to his senses he would be guilt-ridden at what he had done - no need to exacerbate that guilt by making it a nightly event.

Thus he and Amanda, who was also appalled, persuaded Steve that some time apart that the time apart would do them both some good. Clearly, they told him, Jesse was still hurting deep inside - a consequence of his attack which he had yet to deal with, despite the counselling he had received during the first few weeks. And Steve's predilection for over-protectiveness of his mate was not helping to solve the problem. Instead, it was contributing to it.
That didn't make this separation from his beloved any easier to bear. Far from it. Knowing how much the young doctor was hurting, recognising the scars he still carried around in his soul, only made Stave feel more inclined to nurture and comfort him. It was hard staying away, letting him go through his internal torment alone, but as both Mark and Amanda had pointed out at some length, this was something Jesse needed to solve by himself. No one could force his deeply repressed feelings to the surface - and the best psychologist on staff had tried - and they couldn't face them for him, much as they all wanted to, to spare him further pain. He had to recognise and accept them, then get the help he so desperately needed. Protecting him from his feelings only making the situation - and his resultant emotional state - worse.
So Steve complied with everyone's wishes. He stayed away from Jesse. He didn't visit, nor did he telephone. And whilst this might well be good in the long run for the younger man's emotional well-being, in the meanwhile, it was slowly killing Steve.

Two weeks later, it was evident that Jesse was not only coping less well than he had before Steve's absence from his life. He wasn't coping at all. Mark observed from a distance as his young protégé's life crumbled around him, aching to help and knowing that he would be rebuffed if he did. He also recognised the wisdom of his own words to Steve. Jesse needed to face his rampant emotions and seek the help he needed. And they were too close to him to help in that way.
There was something lost and lonely about him - something which positively screamed 'help me'; yet at the same time he rejected any offers of help or sympathy, trying his best to remain aloof and detached - a coping mechanism for the emotions which were churning around inside him, looking for an escape route. Any escape route.
Mark could see that he was on the edge. It was evident to anyone who so much as looked at him, but no-one dared to say anything. He had bitten off the heads of three nurses in as many days. He was as close as anyone could get to a complete emotional collapse and it could happen at any time.
Unfortunately, he carried on working, burying himself and his problems in his patients and his various drug studies and sustaining himself with endless cups of coffee and the occasional candy bar from the vending machine. This seemed to be his only sustenance, because he certainly wasn't eating anything healthy - or, indeed, much of anything else at all, and the resultant weight loss was not only very noticeable but also truly alarming
The staff watched him closely, waiting for the moment when he would crash and burn. No one dared suggest that he take some time off. Even Amanda balked at the idea. She had already been the victim of a vicious tongue lashing from her young friend and, although she had not taken it personally - too well aware of the torment he was going through - she wasn't about to set herself up again. One person in the hospital was not afraid, however. Mark Sloan might be a close friend, but he also had the advantage of being Jesse's boss. If anyone could - and should do this - it would be him. It had to be him. Regardless of how distasteful he found the idea.

It was late evening when the older doctor finally caught up with his young colleague. He and Jesse had both been kept busy that day in ER with a bus accident. It had taken the majority of the afternoon to process the patients and then assign them to various OR's. They were both exhausted when they reached the doctor's lounge. , Mark had steeled himself to do this, however, and he was not about to back out now. So, with a heavy heart he encouraged the younger man to take a seat, gave him a coffee and sat down opposite him.
"You look exhausted," came his opening salvo.
Jesse shrugged. "No more than you," he said. It was offhand and almost rude - not at all like the Jesse he knew. Mark sighed heavily. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated.
"Jesse, go home."
"What?"
"Go home, before you have a meltdown." If Jesse had an expression which better conveyed betrayal than the one which currently contorted his delicate features, Mark devoutly hoped he would never see it. The big blue eyes looked so deeply wounded that the older doctor had to avert his gaze. "I'm sorry, Jess," he went on, quietly. "But I can't have you treating patients in your condition …"
"Condition?" Jesse echoed. "My … condition? Tell me, Mark, what is my 'condition'?"
Mark heaved a huge sigh. He had hoped that it wouldn't come to this. He had no desire for a confrontation with the younger doctor. Jesse was so emotionally fragile that any kind of stress might induce the breakdown that everyone was trying so hard to avoid. But someone had to say something, for the good of the patients under Jesse's care, if for no other reason.
In truth, as concerned as Mark was about the patients and staff who would be caught in the fallout when Jesse finally imploded, he was even more worried about his young protégé. Jesse looked even more dreadful on close inspection. Gaunt and thin, with deep dark shadows which had seemingly taken up permanent residence under once luminous blue eyes, he was but a shadow of the young man they all knew and loved. The older doctor had overheard a nurse's stray comment the previous day that Doctor Travis looked 'like one of the walking dead', and, loathe as he was to agree with her, he couldn't help but admit to himself that her assessment wasn't far wrong. But it wasn't only that he looked worse than most of his patients. The nervous energy he displayed, once such an integral feature of his vital, exuberant spirit was now a sizzling aura which spelt 'danger', and he feared the consequences if that energy was expended in the wrong way.
The last thing he wanted was an audience to the young man's loss of control.. Not only would his professional image be forever tarnished, tainted by one moment, but he personally would never be able to face people again. Indeed, he might just retreat even further into himself, never to emerge again into the daylight, cutting himself off completely from his friends. It would be akin to a little death and that was the last thing any of them wanted. They were trying to help him, not encourage him to spin off into a spiral of depression from which no-one would ever be able to retrieve him.
It was for these reasons that he had been reduced to ordering Jesse to take some time off. He had intended to make it a suggestion, recommending that he chill out, relax, get in some surfing … anything other than remain here, teetering on the brink of an eruption which would affect his career. Unfortunately, his words had not had the desired effect. Truthfully, they never had that chance. Jesse was in a bad place emotionally and any perceived slur on his character or abilities as a doctor would have caused this reaction. Mark felt like he was caught in the headlights of a train wreck and he didn't have any way of knowing who would survive it.
"Jesse …"
"No, Mark!" Jesse yelled, pushing back his chair violently and rising to his feet. His coffee cup tipped over, spilling the liquid over the table from where it then dripped onto the floor. Neither man seemed to notice. "What, I'm not good enough at my job any more, is that it?"
"No …"
"Then what is it? You got someone better? You got a replacement for me, is that it?"
Jesse's furious demands completely flummoxed the older man. Where had this come from? Surely he knew in what high regard Mark held him as a doctor? There was no finer surgeon and physician in Doctor Sloan's opinion. He had extolled Jesse's talents in medicine to any number of people - sometimes in Jesse's presence, sometimes when he was working on saving a life. Why would Jesse even imagine he would ever be replaced? That he could ever be replaced? "What?"
"Oh don't come the innocent with me, Mark," snarled the younger doctor, his restless pacing indicative of his state of mind. "Don't think I never heard about Jack Stewart and how close you two were. He was practically another son and apparently being groomed to be another you … then he left. I was just a temporary replacement, wasn't I? I was just a … a stand-in till you got him back or got someone better."
Mark simply stared at him in utter disbelief. Where was this coming from?
"Well?"
"Jesse, you've got this all wrong," he began. He was shocked that his friend could even contemplate such a thing. "I …"
"I don't think so," came the heated retort. The younger man's chest was heaving as he hurled his accusations at Mark and he couldn't seem to catch his breath, but he ignored his growing discomfort in the face of the mounting evidence of what he suddenly saw as his mentor's betrayal. "I think I've got it exactly right. You never wanted me here. You've never been my friend. Not really. You preferred Jack … I've heard all the stories. I know how close you guys were. You … you're trying to get rid of me … so that he can come back. That's what this is all about, isn't it? He wants to come back and I don't matter. I've never mattered. I've just been some kind of joke to you …" His voice tailed off as his heartache at his own revelation threatened to rise up and choke him.
Turning away he didn't see Mark rise slowly from his chair and didn't hear the soft footsteps as his friend and mentor crossed the short distance across the doctor's lounge to stand behind him. All he was aware of was pain. Giant pain. An incredible, deep well of agony which was threatening to consume him. And he didn't care. He had pushed Steve away and now he had lost the man he had always considered his surrogate father. He had nothing left. No-one. And maybe it was better that way. Now he wouldn't be faced with their guilt and the anguish they felt at being unable to help him which was obvious every time he looked into their faces. Now maybe he would be truly alone - the way he had been during the attack …
"Jesse."
The soft voice intruded on his dark thoughts and he flinched. His anger had died away as quickly as it had inexplicably appeared and now all he felt was remorse and guilt and a deep, deep shame. What had come over him to say the things he had said? What had he been thinking? What had he done?
"Jess?"
He didn't dare turn around. He knew what he would see. Mark's face would be filled with compassion and forgiveness - he could hear it in the older man's voice. He couldn't cope with that. He didn't deserve it. "I … I'm sorry," he offered, brokenly. "God, Mark, I am so, so sorry …"
Silence. Then a gentle hand touched his shoulder, squeezed it reassuringly and tears came to his eyes. He had said such cruel, malicious things to this man - his friend - and yet he knew that Mark wouldn't hold any of them against him. Knew it like he knew that the sun would shine tomorrow.
"I … " he began. He couldn't go on. His throat closed up on the words he wanted so much to say.
"Jesse, son, why don't we sit down?" came the gentle suggestion from the man behind him.
Blindly, numbly, he allowed himself to be led to the couch, and sank onto it gratefully. His legs were feeling a little wobbly now that his outburst had ended and he was gasping for breaths which wouldn't come. Leaning forward, he hid his face in trembling hands, and felt the older man's hand move from his shoulder to his back, rubbing a circular motion at the top of his spine. He reflected idly that it must be an inherited trait. It was something that Steve had done … The thought of Steve made his heart hurt all over again. He had lost him. Steve would never come back after all those vindictive things he had said. And yet he had said equally nasty things to Mark and Mark was still here. Mark was still here … "Why?" he asked, hoarsely.
"Why what?" came the gentle response.
"Why haven't you fired me or suspended me or just … I don't understand, Mark. You … you're still my friend … aren't you?"
"Yes." The answer was so categorical that Jesse almost laughed. Almost. There was no laughter in him at the moment. All he felt was sick.
"Then … why?"
A huge sigh, then, "Jess, you're going through hell right now. Anyone can see it. Most people have. There are things you haven't dealt with from the attack … I'm not going to suggest you see anyone," he temporised as Jesse flashed him a look. "I know better than that. I would prefer it if you did but for now, I just want you to take some time off. You need to rest, Jesse. You're exhausted. You've been working yourself into the ground so that you don't have to deal with the demons you have and you've been surly and uncommunicative and … well, you haven't been you. You haven't been you for a while."
Who have I been?" There was the ghost of a smile playing around Jesse's lips, but there was no humour in his eyes. He knew that what Mark was saying was true, but he seemed to be caught in a spiral of turbulent emotions which were spinning him out of control and he had no idea how to halt its progress.
Someone in deep pain," stated Mark, sadly. "Jess, what you said …"
"About being replaced?" interjected Jesse with a humourless laugh. "I … I'm sorry, Mark. I don't know what came over me … where that came from. I guess a few more issues than just the attack are starting to seep out …"
"Is that an issue?" Mark was clearly bewildered by this sudden lack of confidence in his place in their lives. "Jess, do you really believe that you were a replacement - and a poor one at that - for someone else?"
Jesse finally met his mentor's eyes at this question and Mark winced at the misery he found in their azure depths. "I guess … I guess it's something I've always wondered about," he admitted, reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Mark. It's not fair to you, I know. I guess it's more about me … all my life I've been trying to belong and this … Community General … I feel like .. it's just … it feels like home, you know? And yet at the same time I can't help but wonder … I have heard all about Jack, you know. The nursing staff couldn't wait to fill me in when I first started - and occasionally they'll still bring up his name."
"Fill you in on what?" asked Mark, genuinely puzzled and more than a little concerned. Did Jesse really believe that he was second best to a previous protégé? Jack had been like a son to Mark, of course, and he had been upset when the younger man had left for pastures new, but he had respected his decision and in fact applauded it. Jack was an independent young man, confident and self-assured, a talented doctor, and a good friend. He had proved his worth to them many times.
Jesse was … Jesse. He was prone to occasional self-doubt. He wore every emotion on his expressive face and, whilst he didn't appreciate coddling, his open and trusting nature made him vulnerable and that made his friends very protective of him. In turn Jesse had repaid them with his own brand of friendship - loyal to a fault, caring, warm, willing to step into the path of danger if it would help those he loved, regardless of the risk to himself. He was also an exceptional doctor - undoubtedly one of the best Mark had ever known.
How could he possibly think that any of them considered him second best or a poor substitute for someone else? He had his own unique talents and personality and his place in their hearts was secure.
"How great he was," Jesse was saying in answer to Mark's question, as he came back to earth. "What a hit he was with the ladies - not that I care about that," he added, ruefully. "How highly he was regarded around here …"
"He was highly regarded," confirmed Mark, ignoring for the moment Jesse's gasp of surprise at having his suspicions confirmed. "And I'd known him for a long while so it was a wrench when he left. But you were never a replacement, Jesse. You built your own place here - and you did it with kindness and compassion and humour and warmth. I know I've said this to you before, but it bears repeating. You're the best doctor in the ER, Jesse. There is no-one better. When Steve was shot … just knowing it was you who was working on him - if I couldn't be in the OR, then you were the only other person I trusted with his life. And as for being popular … Jess, you have no idea how much the people who work here love you. When you were attacked … it was all I could do to stop them forming a lynch mob to go out and kill the men who did it."
Jesse's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"I … I … don't know what to say … " If Jesse thought he had felt ashamed before it was nothing to how mortified he was feeling now. "I … oh god …"
"And … Jess?" Mark hadn't finished. He needed to let Jesse know how much he was needed by his friends too. Especially if he was going to be, to all intents and purposes, alone for the next few days - unless he could convince the young man to seek professional help, which he seriously doubted. He had had a word with the psychologist who had treated Jesse in the weeks after the attack. The man had told him, frankly, that although he had tried to convince Jesse to carry on with the sessions, knowing that there were very serious issues which he had not yet dealt with, the young man had refused, convinced that he was okay. They couldn't force him to accept help. Not if he didn't want it - and it hadn't been as serious then as to warrant administrative or sick leave. Now it did. Jesse's emotional state was in turmoil and something had to give - and if they didn't do something drastic, then his physical health could be in peril too.
"Yes?"
"As much as I considered Jack a member of the family, you are even closer to all of us. I don't know how that happened. I don't even care. All I do know is that nothing hurts any of us as much as seeing you in pain. Any kind of pain."
"Is that your unsubtle way of reinforcing the order to go home?" asked Jesse with a sad little smile.
The hand that had been rubbing comforting circles on his back settled on his shoulder once again. "Jess, please take some time off," begged Mark. "I can't bear to see you like this. Just a few days - a week, two weeks at the most. If we find at the end of that two weeks that things haven't improved, well … then we might have to take other steps …"
"I'm not seeing a shrink," insisted Jesse stubbornly - although he wasn't quite as forceful as he would normally have been. He still felt too guilty about what he'd said to his friend.
"We'll see," said Mark, carefully. "So - will you go home? And stay there?"
Reluctantly, Jesse nodded. "Okay," he said, heavily, reluctantly resigning himself to the fact that he needed some time away from everything - chastened at the fact that other people had obviously remarked on his wellbeing - or distinct lack thereof. "I … I'll take a cab .."
"No need," interrupted Mark. "I'll take you."
Jesse nodded. Truth be told he hadn't been looking forward to going home in the dark. Not after …. He had thus far avoided it. In the past few months, Steve had always been around to make sure he arrived home safely, plus security had been vastly improved at the complex with a full-time security guard on duty now. Since Steve's departure he had either been sleeping at the hospital or going home in daylight hours and avoiding the carpark. The place held terrors now that he didn't think he would ever be able to exorcise.
Mark excused himself for a few moments after persuading his young friend to go home and when he returned it was with Jesse's jacket. The younger doctor didn't even ask how Mark had retrieved it from his locker. He just allowed Mark to slip it over his shoulders and lead him out of the hospital.

Several days passed. Jesse didn't leave his apartment at all. He suffered through his nightmares alone, sleeping badly and for only two or three hours every night. Sometimes he got the impression that someone was in the room with him but whenever he opened his eyes to peer groggily around his darkened room, no-one was there. He didn't question this feeling, putting it down to his increasing sense of isolation. What was also growing in strength was his anger. The least thing would set it off, and he would be hard pressed to control it, even whilst a rational part of his mind was telling him that letting go was the best thing he could do because only by letting go his control would he be able to help himslef. But he kept a tight rein on it all, and instead of feeling any better, he started feeling even worse.
In the end it was something so insignificant that under normal circumstances it would not even have mattered. But in the crazy, confused cosmos which was now his life, it was sufficient to precipitate the eruption which Mark had foreseen and which Jesse himself had been trying so desperately to bottle up.
That something so trivial as a missing letter could be the final straw should not have been surprising, given his turbulent emotional state, but it was still somewhat of a shock even as he began tearing his apartment apart, searching for it. He had never believed himself capable of such fury, but as he rampaged through his living room and bedroom, creating a trail of havoc as he went, he was forced to concede that the deep well of rage which existed in most humans also resided within him. And even as he acknowledged that, the anger swelled within him, choking him, almost stopping his heart with its sheer ferocity. And accompanying the anger was hurt and long suppressed feelings of terror and helplessness. It all spewed forth in a torrent, leaving him gasping for breath and screaming with anguish. Sliding down against the wall, he lay his head on his knees and started to sob, the cries torn out of some place deep within his soul where all the pain resided. The strength of the sobs wore him out as the deep well overflowed, and he began to believe that he would never be able to stop. It hurt. It hurt so much, the horror and fear he had felt at the time of the attack submerging him in memories he had tried so desperately to forget. The storm of tears seemed never-ending and he was convinced that he would remain like this, locked in a world of torment forever. Eventually, however, these tears had to run out, the emotions had to wane. The long withheld and powerful feelings had found their outlet and, having escaped, left him trembling with reaction, unable to move from where he was huddled against the wall.
The emotional storm had washed away the last vestiges of rage - at the attacker, for what he had done, at Steve, for his protectiveness which had turned into smothering and at himself for what he had allowed the attacker to do and what he had since put his lover through. Steve. He had only been trying to help and Jesse had pushed him away, using words as a weapon as effectively as fists. He had not seen nor heard from the other man in weeks and he knew that the only person he could blame for his lover's absence was himself. Why would anyone, especially someone as wonderful as Steve, want to stay with him when he was such a godawful mess? Fresh tears welled in his already reddened eyes at this and rolled heedlessly down pallid cheeks, but he didn't have the strength for another violent outburst. His heart, already splintered from long, lonely days he had spent alone over the last few weeks, broke completely at the realisation that he had probably lost the one person he truly loved with every fibre of his being. It was all he could do to remember to breathe, when he felt so very much like giving in, giving up and dying.
Eventually, these new tears dried up too. But now he felt numb, and physically shattered. His head was pounding and he couldn't seem to stop shaking. He didn't try to move. He couldn't have risen from his position on the floor if his life had depended upon it. There was no strength left in his body for physical effort. It had been expended in grief and anger.
He remained there for what seemed to him like hours, his arms locked around his knees, his face hidden. He didn't hear the tentative knock on the door, didn't pay any attention when the door was opened. The muffled curse and the soft footsteps seemed like a dream and even the gentle hand helping him to his feet and guiding him into the bedroom did not seem real. The voice tenderly persuaded him to lie down, then he was covered with his duvet and soft, kind fingers brushed back the hair from his forehead.
"Sleep, now, Jesse," said the voice, full of sympathy and love. "Everything will be all right now. Just go to sleep."
Jesse squinted up at the apparition which had helped him. "M … Mark?" he queried in a small voice.
Mark Sloan smiled down at him. "It's all right, son," he soothed. "I'm here now. Just go to sleep."
Jesse swallowed convulsively, gazing up at his mentor and friend with a bewildered expression on his ravaged face. "I … don't … understand," he managed, hoarsely. "How did you … know?"
The elderly doctor's smile never wavered, but simply grew more benign as he gently trailed his fingers down one tear-stained cheek. "Because I'm your friend, Jesse," he said, softly. "And I knew you needed me."
Jesse nodded. He regretted the action as pain tore through his skull. "Head hurts," he murmured, closing his eyes against the brightness of his apartment. Then, "'n' I've lost Steve."
Mark watched as his young friend drifted off to an uneasy sleep. With a heavy sigh, he tucked the duvet further round the slender shoulders then sank into the heavy armchair beside the bed, covering one small hand with his own. "No, you haven't, Jess," he whispered, knowing that the young doctor couldn't hear him. "You never will." And with that he leaned back in the chair, smiled sadly and prepared for his night time vigil.

When Jesse finally awoke, it was early afternoon. His head was pounding, his throat felt dry and sore and his eyes felt two sizes too big. He couldn't focus properly for the first few minutes. Everything was blurry. It was only when his eyesight did begin to clear that he realised he was in his bedroom, lying in his bed - the bed in which he and Steve had made love countless times since they had been together.

Thinking about Steve and of what they had shared before he had ruined it all brought all those feelings of loneliness and guilt rushing back. The pain was intense. He had never felt this way about anyone before and now he had lost it all. Heartless words, torn from his very soul, had been aimed straight at Steve's noble heart and he had simply watched as they found their target, each one wounding worse than the one before. How could he have thrown his lover's worst fears in his face like that? What kind of person was he? How could he ever live without Steve in his life, and yet, how could he possibly ask the detective to forgive him when he couldn't forgive himself?
"Hey."
Jesse nearly jumped out of his skin at the simple greeting. Blinking rapidly, he stared in utter disbelief at the illusion in front of him, unable to speak, for fear that if he did, he would break whatever spell had caused it to appear and it would vanish into thin air.
"Jess?" The hallucination - for that was surely what it was - strode quickly over to the bed and sat down next to him. One large hand reached out and felt his forehead, then trailed lovingly down his face. "Jess, baby, are you all right?"
"Wha …?" Jesse couldn't seem to find his voice. He tried again. "What are you doing here?" he finally managed, in a voice which sounded scratchy and coarse and not at all like his.
Steve regarded him with fond exasperation. "Last I checked, this was home," he replied.
"B … but … I thought you moved out?" Jesse spluttered.
The other man smiled whimsically. "And leave all my clothes here?" he asked. "Naw … I just went to stay with dad for a while."
"Wh … where is he?" The young doctor took his eyes off the wonderful apparition on his bed long enough to make a visual inspection of his room and those beyond. There was no sign of Doctor Mark Sloan.
"He got called in to deal with an emergency," Steve told him. "I told him I'd stay. I'm on vacation today."
"I … I don't understand …"
"Vacation … means I'm not in work. Got the day off," Steve teased him, then saw the genuine confusion in the wide, guileless blue eyes. More, however, he saw something that had been missing for a long time. Life. A deep sense of relief washed through him and he fought back tears as he silently welcomed back his Jesse. "Everything's okay, Jess," he assured the younger man, taking one restless hand in his own and clasping it tightly. "I'm here. I'm home and I'm not leaving you. Ever again."
"B … but …"
"Ssshh. No buts," insisted the detective, placing one finger over the dry lips. "I'm here now. Dad was here last night. We're family, Jess. You, me, dad, Amanda … we take care of each other. But more than that - you're my partner, in business, in life, in everything. I will always, always strive to take care of you. I'm just sorry that I couldn't do it before when … "
"Wasn't your fault," a quiet voice interrupted him. A tiny smile played around Jesse's mouth. His eyes glinted with that familiar, welcome sparkle which was his and his alone and Steve rejoiced in seeing again one of the qualities which had always made his lover unique and heaved a huge sigh of relief.
"What?" queried the young man.
The detective shrugged. "Just … I'm just glad to be home, sweetheart, where I belong."
"I like the sound of that," murmured the young doctor. He was suddenly finding great difficulty keeping his eyes open. "Where you belong."
Steve chuckled as he noticed Jesse's attempt to stay awake. The emotional outpouring of the previous evening had exhausted his remaining reserves. He was wiped out. "Why don't you get some more sleep?" he suggested. "I'm not going anywhere," he went on, stilling the attempted protest with the words he knew were needed. "I'm staying right here."
"Okay." Jesse was too tired to argue. His fingers tightened around Steve's, holding him fast, so he couldn't leave, would have to stay where he was. He heard the reassuring sound of Steve's soft laugh as he realised he was trapped and drifted away into the first sleep for a long time that wasn't plagued by memories of the attack, assured in the knowledge that if one of those terrible dreams did occur, he had those big strong arms to run into and hide.

Hours later, when he woke again, Jesse needed no persuading to get up and eat. Steve had sent out for food - his culinary skills, or lack thereof, legendary in the family circle. Mark and Amanda had dropped by and both were delighted and relieved to see their Jesse returned from the brink. The shadows had not entirely dissipated - they probably never would go away completely - but they had been dispelled sufficiently to allow the Jesse they knew and loved so well to reappear. Sure, he was still pretty tired and he looked ravaged by the events of the past few months - and especially the last few weeks. But he seemed less jittery and the constant anger, simmering away below the surface seemed to have been expended.
What really persuaded them that he was back, however, was his hesitant suggestion to Mark that he go back to see the staff psychologist in order to talk over his feelings. Mark had never felt prouder of his young friend than at that moment and he had been hard pressed to keep his own emotions in check. He had settled for laying a warm hand on one bony shoulder and squeezing hard. Jesse had smiled up at him then - really smiled, for the first time in a long time.

Physically, he was still far too thin and he certainly wasn't anywhere near fit enough to return to work, but the vibrant spirit that was Jesse Travis was definitely in evidence that evening as he teased Steve mercilessly about his cooking and used those large, puppy-dog eyes to his best advantage, persuading all three of them to share their meals - which obviously would go to waste otherwise - with him, despite having finished his own meal in record time.
"You have hollow legs, that's the only explanation I can come up with," grumbled Amanda good-naturedly, as she watched her Kung pow chicken disappear at a rate of knots into that ever busy mouth.
"Hmph!" was all she got in reply, as he shovelled yet another chopstick full in, although the beaming smile belied any complaint about her remark.
"He's a growing boy," explained Steve, like a proud parent. "And it's good to share. It makes you feel fulfilled."
"I think the only one getting 'fulfilled' here is Jesse," Mark remarked with a chuckle, the mock-wounded expression he received from the young doctor not fazing him in the least.
"It would only go to waste otherwise." Jesse, inbetween mouthfuls, regarded them all with an air of superiority for a moment before collapsing into fits of giggles. This, whilst provoking a round of laughter from all three of the other participants in the joke, also caused a couple of surreptitious tears. It was so good to hear a proper, Jesse-laugh again.

Two hours later, after all the food had been consumed, beverages had been drunk, Amanda and Mark had left to go to their respective homes and Jesse and Steve had cleared up, the young doctor's good humour finally seemed to desert him.
"Hey," said Steve, concerned as he returned to the living room to find Jesse standing by the window, gazing outside, seemingly lost in thought. "What's wrong?"
Jesse's face when he turned to his lover was the picture of abject misery and the detective's heart missed a beat. The young doctor met his frank gaze for all of three seconds before averting his gaze and then heaving a huge sigh that seemed too big to come out of his body. "Steve, I'm sorry."
Steve tried not to smile, but it was impossible when Jesse was standing there, head hung down in shame, looking for all the world like a 12-year old caught out at doing something he shouldn't. And the scared blue eyes, peeking out from under the blond fringe … dammit, he looked too adorable for words! "C'mere," he growled, in answer to those heartfelt words, and reached out to enfold the younger man in his arms.
Jesse stiffened at first, unsure of his right to be in that embrace, but as he felt the love radiating from the taller man, he gradually relaxed, and slipped his arms around the muscular waist, snuffling into Steve's shirt, gratefully drinking in his lover's scent.
"I love you, you idiot," whispered Steve, tenderly, leaning down to bestow a gentle kiss on his lover's blond head. "Don't ever, ever doubt that."
"I never did," murmured the young doctor, closing his eyes as he sank into the sweetness of Steve's love. Deep down, he had always had unfailing confidence in Steve's feelings for him; knew that one moment of madness, instigated by raw hurt, couldn't drive them apart. But that confidence had faltered considerably during the last few weeks - when there was no word from Steve; no messages left on his answerphone, no letters, no attempt to contact him whatsoever. He had been more than half-convinced that his bizarre behaviour had driven the other man away forever - and for that he had only blamed himself. Never Steve. Steve had been entirely faultless in the whole stupid situation .. and now he was back, and Jesse was back where he belonged - in Steve's arms, where he was going to remain forever - or at least until bathroom breaks prised them apart!
It took some effort to tear his head away from its comfortable spot against Steve's heart - which he could hear thumping reassuringly in the big, strong chest. When he did it was to glance upward from the circle of those strong arms and smile tremulously. "Make love to me?" he begged, breathlessly. "Please?"
Steve needed no second bidding. With a predatory smile, he hoisted the young man into his arms - much to Jesse's surprise - and carried him across to the door at the end of the hall.

Once inside their bedroom, the tall detective lay his precious burden down ever so gently on the bed, climbing onto the mattress over him and effectively pinning his quarry below his own body. "Have you any idea what it's been like for me for the past few weeks without you?" demanded Steve in a low, sultry voice. "Do you know the hell I went through?"
Jesse swallowed convulsively and shook his head. Steve's eyes were boring into his with an intensity which would have bordered on frightening if he didn't love and trust the other man so much.
Steve leaned down to bestow a kiss on the pert nose then levered himself up again. "Not to see you, not to talk to you, not to make love to you," he went on. "It was purgatory, Jess. I love you so much. You make me complete. Without you my life is cold and empty and grey and dreary. You are my very own sunshine and you light up every corner of my world. I can't make it without you."
"Steve …" Jesse could hardly breathe. Here was definitive proof, as if he had needed it, of Steve's enduring love for him. He hadn't lost his lover and friend. If anything, their enforced parting had only strengthened their feelings toward each other. If he was Steve's sunshine, then Steve himself was his rock, his safe harbour and his home. The older man meant everything to Jesse and he could scarcely believe that he had got so lucky as to not only snare him in the first place, but to have kept him through this whole mess. He didn't intend to let him go again. He would not make the same mistake twice. This was his soulmate and they belonged together.
"I love you more than life itself, Jesse Travis," whispered Steve, bending down again to catch the younger man's mouth with his own, planting a searing kiss on those succulent lips. "And I'm going to prove it."
Jesse was lost in sensation as he felt one of Steve's hands reaching for his belt. He arched his body upward as the top of his pants was undone, his zipper was pulled down and the questing fingers cupped the growing bulge in his shorts. A long moan was ripped out of him as the hand skilfully manouevered his pants down his legs and then eased his shorts away from his body. Before he knew it he was lying partially clothed beneath his increasingly rampant lover, those clever fingers fondling his genitals in increasingly determined strokes.
Without volition, his legs parted, his entire body straining as pleasure rushed through him. All the blood seemed to drain from the upper half of his torso into his groin and he fought for breath as a hand encircled his engorged cock, stroking, caressing, pulling, one finger manipulating the slit on top until he thought he was going to pass out from the increasing euphoria. The pressure increased as the strokes quickened, then a wet tongue invaded the slit and his body came off the bed as he let out a scream of undiluted pleasure. The next instant his rapidly filling shaft was engulfed by a warm, wet mouth and the friction became too much as his orgasm hit him with the force of a hurricane and he shot seemingly endless streams of cum straight into his lover's throat. The sound of Steve swallowing turned him on all the more and he was a boneless, exhausted heap of young man when he finally finished and flopped back down on the mattress.
"Steve!" he gasped, when he could find his voice again. "That was …"
"That was nothing, sweetheart," murmured the other man as he slithered up his lover's sweat-soaked body and kissed him again. Jesse could taste his own essence in Steve's mouth and his body started to re-awaken "It's been too long, Jess," Steve went on, his mouth moving from Jesse's lips to mark his throat, then settled onto the right nipple, which he pulled and manipulated with his teeth. "By the time I've finished with you, you'll have forgotten that the last few weeks without me ever existed. There's only you and me from now on, my love. Forever."
It took only a few moments for Steve to divest himself of his own clothing and before Jesse could even murmur his protest at the loss of the warm body from his own, Steve was back on top of him, raising himself up so he didn't crush the younger man beneath his muscular body. He ran his eyes appreciatively up and down the slender form, drinking in the sight he had missed so much before focusing on the beloved face and gazing into those expressive cobalt eyes. God. He never wanted to let this precious miracle go. He wanted to hold onto him forever so that nothing could ever hurt him again.
"Ready?" he asked.
"You have to ask?" Jesse's voice was teasing but his eyes were a dark blue, smouldering with desire. His hands reached up to touch the firm body above his, trailing down the broad chest, lovingly stroking the brown nipples … Before he knew what he was doing he had one of those nipples in his mouth, sucking it desperately, his strong teeth playing with the puckered skin. He sighed - it was a deep, throaty sound and only served to increase his partner's lust. Taking the blond head in his hands, keeping his balance by thrusting his knees further into the bed, Steve covered those playful lips with his own, his tongue seeking and receiving entrance into the warm cavern. The taste was exquisite, and he didn't want to stop - not that Jesse was letting him as his arms snaked around the other man's waist and pulled him down on top of him. Their warm flesh met and ignited the sparks between them once again. The two thick shafts ground against one another and Jesse emitted a small squeal as his body responded to his lover's proximity. "Please …" he begged, his legs widening in anticipation, knees bent to allow Steve better access. "Steve .. I need you."
"Sshh, sweetheart," soothed the other man. "It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I love you …" As he kept up his litany of reassurances one hand was seeking the small puckered hole behind Jesse's balls. He wriggled one finger past the tight outer ring of muscle, silencing his lover's gasp with another kiss. Once the finger had penetrated further, he thrust another finger inside, scissoring them to open up the passage. Jesse was writhing beneath him now, eager for the intrusion and desperate for something larger. Another finger entered him, and moved further up, finally locating the small nub which it was searching for. The younger man almost came off the bed as pleasure coursed through him. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and his blood pounded in his veins.
"S … Steve …" he managed through clenched teeth. "Please ..!"
"Okay, baby," Steve replied, his own voice hoarse with need. "I'm coming in now."
He was as good as his word. Removing his fingers, he quickly laved his aching length with the lube he had retrieved from the bedside drawer. Then he placed the head of his leaking cock against Jesse's entrance and pushed. Slowly, reluctantly, the muscle eased away to allow him in and before he knew it, he was buried testicle deep in Jesse's desperate body. The younger man was a wanton mass of lust below him, his hands at the small of Steve's back, pushing him as far in as he could go. "Jess, Jess," Steve soothed, brushing back the blond hair from the perspiring forehead. "It's all right, sweetness. I'm in. I'm here. We're together. Ssshhh.."
Then he began to thrust. Gently at first then with increasing force, hitting Jesse's prostate again and again, eliciting scream after muffled scream from the younger man. The bed groaned beneath their frantic coupling as Steve pounded his lover's ass and simultaneously pumped the newly pulsating penis. Pearly drops of precum seeped out of Jesse's cock, then, without warning, his anal walls closed in on Steve's shaft, contracting as another orgasm drove through him, momentarily taking his senses along with it. Steve came at the same time, pouring his ejaculate into his lover's passage until he was empty. "Oh god!" he gasped. "That was ….That was … Jesse? Jess? Baby?" From the brink of ecstasy, he slid back down to earth with a thump as he looked down at Jesse, to discover, to his horror, that tears were seeping out from tightly closed eyes, and his beloved was biting his lip ferociously in an attempt to stave off the sobs which were caught in his throat.
Slowly, gently, Steve eased his way out of his lover and enfolded the younger man in his arms, one large hand cradling the back of the blond head which had buried itself in his chest. "Jesse, sweetheart, what is it?" he enquired, tenderly, as the younger man's entire body trembled with the force of his emotions and he clung onto Steve as though he were a lifesaver. "Jess?"
It took several minutes for Jesse to gain some semblance of control over his wayward feelings and when he did, it was with great reluctance that he removed his face from the safety of Steve's broad chest to meet his lover's concerned gaze. "I … I'm sorry," he sniffed, unable to maintain eye contact as shame coursed through him. "I … " His voice tailed off as he lost the ability to put into words what he felt at that moment - joy at Steve's return, elation at the knowledge that the other man still loved him, remorse at the way he had treated him and guilt - a guilt that was gnawing away at him, threatening to devour him whole. Steve loved him with all of his heart and soul - always had, always would, and he had behaved abominably toward the detective. He didn't deserve the older man's love, even though he craved it and loved him as much in return. He didn't know what he could have been thinking when he had driven the other man away - using words designed to cause the maximum amount of hurt, and which he knew had pierced Steve's heart and wounded him as surely as it had hurt him to deliver them, even though he had been incapable of preventing himself from saying them at the time. "I hurt you," he finally said, in a small, sorrowful voice. "I hurt you so much and you still came back …"
"Oh Jess." There was a world of forgiveness and long-suffering in the two words and when he dared to glance at his older lover, he was astonished to find a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"Wh … what? …" he questioned.
"I love you, you moron," Steve said, firmly, running one hand up and down Jesse's back, soothing him with the constant motion, gentling him as he would a runaway colt. "I have always loved you and I always will. I thought you'd got that through your thick head by now? For someone so incredibly intelligent you can be really dumb sometimes."
"D .. dumb?" Jesse echoed. A tiny bit of hurt entered his voice even though he tried to prevent it. He deserved whatever Steve said to him. He shouldn't get upset about some minor name-calling. Still …
"Yeah, dumb." Steve's grin widened as he gazed down adoringly into the tear-bright azure eyes. "You are everything to me, Jesse Travis. I would walk through fire for you. S'matter of fact, that's what I feel like I've done the last few weeks. Jess," he went on, his grin fading as he grew more serious. "I was upset about what you said to me, sure. But I knew you didn't mean them. You keep forgetting, baby, that I know you. I know every expression on your beautiful face. I know every facet of those incredible eyes. I saw the pain, Jess. I saw the hurt and the anger and none of it was directed at me - well, maybe some of it," he amended. "The parts about me smothering you were definitely on target. But all that stuff you said about not needing me, never loving me - those words were hurting you far more than you were hurting me - which is not to say I wasn't stung by what you said but … Jess, what you said came from a place of pain and anger and fear - not of me, but of yourself and what happened."
"B … but if you knew that, then why did you leave and stay away?" whispered Jesse, wonderingly.
Steve winced. "Dad made me realise how deeply in pain you were," he said, his tone filled with regret. "He - and Amanda, suggested that I stay away from you - not for my own good, but for yours. They said I was impeding your emotional recovery and if you were ever going to get well again then you needed to face the demons you were carrying around - but you needed to do it by yourself."
Another tear rolled down Jesse's cheek. "I did," he managed. "Everyone left me."
Steve felt like crying himself at that sad little statement. His Jesse must have felt so alone, so isolated in his pain. If he only knew … "Jess, sweetness, you were never alone," he assured him, continuing his gentle ministrations on the soft flesh beneath his hand. "We were never far away - any of us. I had a key. Dad had a copy made and we gave one to Amanda. You have no idea how many nights one of us kept vigil over you when you were sleeping. And we were never too far away during the day either. You just didn't notice because you were too wrapped up in your own misery … and that's all right," he added, quickly as he saw the fleeting expression of guilt cross Jesse's face. "You had to go through all of that to come out the other side."
"So … so Mark coming round when I finally … when it came out … when I …"
"It wasn't a coincidence, Jess," Steve confirmed for him as his voice tailed away. "Although he came round a lot earlier than usual - it was like he knew you needed him or something. He arrived about the same time as I did from the precinct."
"You were here as well?" Jesse's eyes grew as round as saucers at this revelation. "But … I didn't see you …"
"Dad wouldn't let me come in," replied Steve ruefully. "He wanted to make sure that you were well on your way to recovery before we got back together. I just knew you needed someone that night, Jess. I think I broke the speed limit getting here."
"Just as well you're a cop," said Jesse, with a small giggle. It was music to Steve's ears.
"Yeah, well, it certainly comes in handy for keeping cute, blond doctors in line," he teased, with a gentle smile.
The 'cute blond doctor' in question managed a tremulous smile. "Know many of those, then?" he asked.
"Only one," came the husky reply as Steve leant down to capture said doctor's lips in a kiss so gentle and loving that it threatened Jesse's slowly returning composure. "And he's mine. Forever and always."
"Forever and always," murmured Jesse, valiantly ignoring the fresh, clean tears which spilled down his cheeks, then marvelling at the touch of tender fingers wiping them away. "And you're mine … forever and always."
"I love you, Jess," said Steve, earnestly. "Never ever believe otherwise."
The young doctor nodded, swallowing convulsively as a sob of relief and joy combined rose to choke him. He was completely incapable of speech at this point but it didn't matter in any case, as Steve covered his mouth once again with his own, caressing his lips with the softest of touches. Jesse made a little noise deep in his throat as the kiss continued, and his lover's arms held him ever tighter, until they were practically melded together. His arms were wound around the detective's neck and he was clinging on for dear life. He felt safe, warm, protected and cherished and he never wanted to leave the safety of this place - this place that he thought he had lost any right to claim. He heaved a huge sigh as he settled into the warmth of Steve's love, his body warmed by the heat of the skin pressed against his, and as his leg inched its way between his lover's thighs, he felt the renewed erection and smiled secretly. "I love you," he whispered into the broad chest. "Steve …."
The older man chuckled. "I can't believe I'm hot for you again this soon," he said. "God, Jess, you're gonna wear this old man out!" The simple phrase, so innocently used, could have been disastrous. Jesse hitched in a breath at the term 'old man', recalling with complete clarity and immense shame, the words he had used to wound his lover - words he had known would cause the greatest amount of hurt because they hit a raw nerve. He shuddered violently, and tried to move away from the shelter of Steve's embrace. But this time, Steve wasn't about to let him go. "Jesse, Jess!" he said, sharply, as the younger man began to shrink away from him. "Listen to me! I know you didn't mean it. Okay? It's a hang-up I have and it's because I still can't get used to the fact that someone so wonderful, someone so amazing as you, and so much younger than I am, could love me. I know that you do. I know it in my heart and in my mind. If I didn't then we could never have survived this. But somewhere deep within I still wonder why you chose me when you could have your pick of any one of a hundred gorgeous, younger guys."

Jesse heard the words, but more, his heart heeded the uncertainty and self-doubts which laced them - self-doubts which had always plagued his lover, and which he had always done to his best to assuage … until that awful night. And now it was up to him to lay those ghosts to rest, for good and all. After all Steve had done for him, after he had proven his love and devotion, it was the very least he could do. In truth, he would have walked over hot coals for this man; jumped off a mountain if Steve had asked him to - without reservation. He was utterly and completely helpless in the face of his love for the detective. "Oh Steve, I'm so, so sorry," he declared, miserably. "You know I only said those things to make you leave. I have never, ever believed any of them. The truth is, I don't want anyone else. I have never wanted anyone else. It wouldn't matter how young or gorgeous they were. They wouldn't be you. You're my best friend, my partner, my lover … you're just you, and you're special. You're strong and tough and you make me laugh and you care about the same things I care about … You're the one I want to come home to and share every detail of my day with and you're the one I want to go to bed with and wake up next to in the morning. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and you make me whole. I need you so much it sometimes scares me … because I'm so afraid that something will happen to you. I can't lose you, Steve. I just can't. I can't even picture my life without you in it. And it has nothing to do with age or how sexy you are - and you are," he added, with a sly grin at his rapt mate. "It has everything to do with who you are inside and who you are inside is mine and I'm not letting you go again - ever."
As Jesse's impassioned speech finished, something within Steve that he had never fully acknowledged finally broke apart and dissolved. For the first time ever all his hidden fears about their relationship were gone, washed away by the waves of love he felt emanating from the young man in his arms - the young man who was even now snuggling closer, one leg easing upward toward his groin, which was throbbing in earnest now. "Jess …" he hissed as the slim leg touched his heated cock, and then attached itself to the undersides of his testicles. "Oh god…" he groaned as the cool flesh began to move backwards and forwards, stroking his bulging sacs, making contact with his shaft again and again. "Jess, please …"
He didn't see the wicked little smile on his lover's face as Jesse removed an arm from around Steve's neck and thrust downward to capture the engorged penis in his slender fingers. "Something wrong, detective?" murmured the young doctor, as he moved his body slightly to gain easier access to his prize.
"I … I … god …"
A manic giggle erupted from the lithe young blond as he continued his ministrations to the other man's nether regions. His hand was pumping furiously now, talented fingers rubbing over the huge head of Steve's cock, easing their way down the rough surface to the bottom and ghosting over the straining balls. He needed his other hand now, so he removed his other arm from around Steve's neck, pushing his unresisting lover onto his back as he did so. Then, without missing a beat in the motion which his fingers were involved in, he perched atop the glistening body, his back to Steve's face, admiring the view he got when he did so. The other man's shaft was stiff and unyielding, standing to attention, and drops of precum were seeping from the top, running down the heavily veined body.
Without preamble, he leaned forward, thrusting out his tongue to taste the viscous liquid, licking his lips hungrily as it settled on his tongue. He could hear the constant moans from behind him as Steve writhed on the bed, his entire body aching for more. Blue eyes dancing with delight, Jesse leaned forward again, to lick the top of the bulbous head, then take it into his mouth, where he swiped the slit several times with his tongue. He could hear incoherent cries of need erupting from his partner and moved his fingers further down Steve's groin until they located the hole they were seeking. One finger entered, pushing past the outer ring in a steady forward motion until it was completely engulfed. Then another nimble finger worked its way in, pushing ever forward and scissoring the muscle to widen it. The third finger found Steve's prostate and elicited a strangled scream. Then his fingers and mouth began to work in tandem, pushing up, pulling out and sucking and stroking with his tongue until Steve was driven mad with frenzied desire.
But Jesse was also in for a surprise, as, without prior warning, a finger entered his passage also. He gasped in surprise and initial pain, until it eased its way inside, and another finger joined it, then suddenly, he was thrusting back against them, desperate for the digits to find their quarry. As they did so, he uttered a muffled scream, then thrust back again and again, shifting his weight to make the ecstasy last longer and longer even as his own fingers shoved further inside Steve's body and his other hand pumped the cock which was half in, half out of his mouth. They came to fruition together, as an ecstatic bellow issued from behind him and warm ejaculate flooded his mouth and dripped out of the sides, running down his chin to splatter onto the warm body beneath him, whilst he came almost as violently, his pearly seed shooting upward to bathe his chest and Steve's groin in sticky fluid.
Panting for breath, and swallowing the last of the cum, he flopped forward onto the bed, between Steve's upraised legs, feeling the fingers leave his anus and removing his ever so gently in turn. For a few moments, the two lovers lay panting together on the mattress, neither of them able to move, then, strong hands lifted the younger man, turning him, and pulling him upward so that he could lie in the crook of Steve's arm.
"Jess, that was … that was … "
"Yeah," he agreed, haltingly, unable yet to catch his breath. "It was … wasn't it?" Laying his head on Steve's shoulder, he sighed contentedly. "Tired," he managed, around a huge yawn.
"Then go to sleep, baby," came the gentle urging. "I'll be here."
"Promise?"
"Always."
"Tha's good … " he mumbled as, with another yawn, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into a sated sleep.
Steve lay awake a little longer, running gentle fingers up and down the warm, naked flesh in his arms, gazing adoringly at the slender form. A soft sigh issued from between parted lips as Jesse cuddled up a little closer and Steve felt a surge of protectiveness and love swell within his chest. God, how he worshipped this young man, this skilled and compassionate doctor, this warm and wonderful human being. He may never move from this spot. He had everything he could ever want, right here, in this bed. Someone whom he loved completely who loved him in return; someone who understood him, who accepted him for who and what he was, no questions asked. "Forever, Jess," he whispered, brushing a tender hand over the soft blond hair. "Forever."
Closing his eyes, finally, Steve slipped into Morpheus's welcoming arms.

End

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