The fresh, sun-filled water revitalized Sam to the point where most of the furious restlessness he was feeling faded away. He waved away the chair as he pulled himself out, managing to stumble his way across the tiled walkway to the lounge. Giving his pleased doctor a tired grin, he flopped over onto his stomach, worn out, but at peace for the first time in days. "I did good," he gasped, burying his face in the vinyl pillow as Greg pressed his hands along his thighs and back, professionally massaging spasming muscles.
"Better than great, really." It was hard to be unemotional when it came to this particular patient. "You always seem to be a step ahead of the prognosis. I'm of the mind to take that chair away."
"Take it. I'll use both canes for a while." Sam relaxed under the ministrating hands, closing his eyes blissfully. "God, you're nearly as good as Al. He's the best at this..."
"Maybe it's none of my business." Greg crouched by the lounge, hands hanging loosely between his knees. "There's a different feel to this place. We had this conversation a while back, about my friend Mark." Sam's intense gaze was meeting his, listening to every word he said. "You get a feeling from a home, whether the people living there are roommates or, well, a couple. It can be a good sensation, or bad, depending on the relationship." Shaking his head slowly, Greg broke eye contact, cheeks reddening. "It's none of my business."
"It's okay," Sam remarked softly. His face remained thoughtful for a moment, thinking over how much he could say without Al being present and approving. It didn't seem to matter with Greg; he was the type of person he trusted, had worked with for years and had earned his confidence. "Al and I. . .1 guess, are a. . . couple." It felt good to say the words to someone, proud of the love he had for the older man. "Have been since the day after you and I had that talk."
"That's great, Sam. I'm glad for you. I can see the change, just the way you're holding your own, handling things, like what happened yesterday. You haven't wound up into your shell, like you used to."
"I trust him. Greg. And, I love him." Sam's voice was firm, as if affirming his feelings. "If anyone knew that, they'd use it against us. I'm certain I don't have to worry about telling you this."
"Of course, Sam." Greg gave the other man's hand a quick squeeze. "Best thing that could've happened, for both of you."
It was late afternoon before Al returned. Exhausted from grueling morning, preparing for the conference, he tossed his hat on the computer chair and entered the living room. Sam was dozing on the couch, Greg crashed out in one of the armchairs, eyes snapping open as the Admiral entered.
"How is he?" Al softly asked, not wanting to wake his sleeping friend.
"Fantastic." Greg pulled himself together, pleased at the other man's arrival. "He doesn't need the chair," he said quietly. "The canes will do nicely, for a while, then he'll be back to normal."
"Great, that's terrific." Al felt distracted from the conversation, his mind more on what was expected of them tomorrow than anything else. "You can hit the road. if you want. I'm staying home the rest of the night."
Glancing at his watch, the blue eyes widened. "No kidding. It's nearly five and I've got that med-team meeting at six." Wisely, Greg knew it was best he leave the two men alone, so the Admiral could discuss things that weren't exactly on the therapist's 'need to know' list.
The moment the door closed behind Greg, Al knelt by the couch, burying his face on the warm leather near Sam's face, basking in the closeness. After this day, he craved his lover's presence, the only thing that would break the dismal mood he was in. The kid was really out, dressed in a warm jogging suit, curled onto his side. He strongly suspected Sam had worn himself out with therapy, and privately chastised Greg for pushing him too hard.
"You're home." Slowly, the younger man stretched, from fingers to toes, gracefully relaxing each still-cramped muscle. His greenish eyes cracked open, gazing at his friend softly. "I missed you. Did Greg...?"
"He said you're out of the chair, kid." A tiny smile crossed Al's dark face, pleased, at least, for that comfort. "We have to talk, Sam. They've scheduled the damned conference for tomorrow."
Rubbing his eyes, Sam sat up, using Al's shoulder as a brace. "I thought we had another day to prepare. I'm ready to get it over with, though."
"Good." Sighing, Al opened his nearby briefcase, tossing some of the papers within on the coffee table. "These are the questions that the nozzles are most likely to ask both of us. It's going to be me, you, and Weitzman, not to mention Ronnenburg, who may or may not show. I think I've convinced the committee to omit him. It's going to be fifteen minutes, no more. They get too close to some of the restricted stuff we're allowed to give them a 'no comment'. The things we can talk about are printed on this," he said, touching the top sheet. "The other stuff is just below it. If it's any help, I'm a little scared myself, but it's inevitable, and, frankly, just good PR."
"Tom called."
From the look on Sam's face, Al could tell it wasn't a pleasant conversation. "He tried calling me at the base, too, Sam. I made excuses, and I assumed Greg had shut off the damned cellular like I asked."
"It's not Greg's fault. I'm capable of handling my brother, or anyone else who calls." There was a touch of defensiveness in Sam's voice, touchy about being treated like an invalid again. "Including the press, providing they know our number."
"They don't. What did Tom say?"
"I'm not going into it." Sam shrugged, the tight line of his mouth stiffening. "I handled the conversation and hung up on him. He hasn't changed a whole lot, Al. Afterwards, Greg and I went swimming, and talked for a while. A nice quiet afternoon."
"And that's the kind of evening we'll have, Sam. Quiet. No interruptions." The Admiral decided to shunt aside the anger at Tom Beckett for now. No need to ruin their night with another argument. "I want to have you to myself. This is has been a crappy day, pal."
Sam bent forward and kissed the tired mouth, pleased at the response. Al's lips moved under his, practically taking the breath from his body. Warm hands caressed his skin under the worn sweatshirt, gently easing the material off and pressing him down to the couch.
Al stripped quickly, glad to be free of the starched uniform, and dumped it over a chair and returned to his waiting lover. Sam was draped over the couch, reaching for him and accepting his embrace. The older man fell over the prone form, pressing his body against every bit of Sam's body. They hadn't made love for so long, not since the cabin, and he craved to be inside the younger man, that tight ass closing around him.
Al kissed down the length of the warm body, pressing his fingers against the supple flesh and devouring each erect nipple hungrily. Sam arched under his touch, sensitive and wanting so much to be loved and cared for. The lips on his belly, laving each ripple of muscle, moving lower to take in his erect cock... Al's tongue and mouth moving and sucking him to a peak, taking in every inch of exposed flesh, his running pants falling to his ankles.
Licking every drop of cum from Sam, Al moved lower, kissing and caressing the perfect ass, smoothing the skin with his fingertips. He wanted to be as deep into Sam as possible, moving and thrusting inside the other man and that, tight, living warmth. Kissing Sam's lips, he told him, without words, what he desired, and staggered to the bedroom, returning with the tube of cream.
The first touch of the warm lubricant against his anus made Sam press against the fingers there, smiling in pleasure as Al inserted two fingers into his opening, widening it for his cock. A moment later, the other man was inside him, Sam's legs hastily pulled over the narrow shoulders, Al pumping and thrusting, his hard length moving deep within him. Sam's fingertips pressed against his lover's arms, keeping a constant pressure, clenching as the man came deep inside him, warm shots of semen spurting to his very core.
Al fell across the other man on the wide couch, planting tiny kisses on the upturned face, hands swirling through the long reddish hair. The touch of his hand on his own cheek was enough to electrify him, and feel every bit of love and care that Sam felt for him. Whatever tomorrow would bring, they'd handle the damn stuff together. For better or worse.