Disclaimer: I don't own or make profit from these characters - I just enjoy borrowing them occasionally

It was a memory.

It was a gasp, followed by a breathy moan, an ecstatic cry, wrenched from the very soul of the blond doctor. And with it came the trembling, the shudders that rippled through taut muscles.

It was the knowledge that no-one else could elicit this reaction, and the pure pleasure of playing that body with the same precision of movement, and the same expertise as he used on his beloved violin.

His hands, his fingers, they knew that body so well. From the ridges and furrows of scar tissue, across the well-defined pectorals, to the slightly off kilter, lopsided nipples - nothing standard, nothing plain, wholly unique.

Sliding down, what his hands knew well, his tongue knew better. The soft, slightly salty taste of that gently rounded belly, the sensual dip into that perfect belly button, and the soft yet rough trail of fine blond hair that led down to rich treasures.

His whole body had learned the imprint of the other, lying under him, or above him, moving together, skin on skin on heated skin, joining together, wrapping around, entwined and entangled, breathing together, two hearts beating in time.

It is a memory, so real that he could touch it, taste it, feel it.

This now is his way of keeping John, the man he left behind.