Okay, my David muse wanted to jump on this one really fast. And with swift vengeance. I mean, damn, I didn't think it would turn out this angsty. I wanted it to be amusing, or at least slightly. But David muse not only veered, he made a U-turn, did some figure eights in a cornfield, turned left twice and ran over the only STOP sign in Everworld.

Again, I don't own David, Christopher, or anything else for that matter. All I have are my delusions and obsessions. Please don't take those away from me.

And thank you Kay, for your glowing review! I know it's only been a few days, but I couldn't wait to update it. I hope everyone finds it enjoyable… Or seeming to have a steamy sex scene being this stories only merit. And it isn't even that steamy. Whatever.

WARNING: Danger, Will Robinson, danger!!! THIS IS NOW NC-17!!! I wasn't planning on it, but there it happened. It came as a total surprise to me, so please don't complain to me about it. Complain to the horny teenage boys in my head.

"Focus. Breath. Inhale. Exhale. Steady… Oh good God! This can't be happening!" I screamed at the mirror. "Why me? Why me? Why must you constantly torment me?"

I raged belligerently in the bathroom and would've hit my head against the wall if it hadn't been for my incredible headache. No use in adding injury to insult. I took a deep breath, stopped with the insipid "why me" whining, and stared hard at the mirror. What I saw didn't impress me.

My hair was nappy, almost to the point of not being able to unsnarl it. The length made me look girly, but I had barely enough time to bathe and shave in the morning, let alone get a hair cut. My eyes had heavy bags under them. I never should've drunk a damn thing. I surveyed the rest of my stupid face. Same as always. Same face I've had since I was a kid.

I laid down on the floor and let the cold porcelain invigorate me. All the days of fighting in a screaming rage were catching up to me. My muscles ached like I had just run a marathon. The heat was still on my face from those few minutes before when I woke up with Christopher… I shuddered. I didn't want to know what had happened for… that to happen. He must've been dreaming of Etain, or something, because we've slept in the same bed before and… Oh shit.

Worry washed over my stomach. All my internal organs sank about two feet. I definitely didn't want to get up from the floor. I had just remembered what I said to Christopher before I ran in the bathroom to hide. The NEXT TIME you sleep in my bed Christopher! Dear God, what kind of idiot are you, David? Inviting CHRSITOPHER into your bed, oh as long as he doesn't have a boner next time, it's alright. Grrraaah! You stupid, stupid, stupid… I had to stop thinking because I was pounding my head on the bathroom floor. It really didn't help the headache.

Waking up in the same bed with someone is always scary for me. It always means there was a previous situation, which I was not in control of. Because, well, frankly, I don't allow anyone in my bed and/or sleeping area. It's closed off from visitors and I like to keep it that way. Christopher and I were never the closest so I figured sharing a bed with him, only when absolutely necessary, of course, wouldn't be a problem. It turned it out it was. Especially since Senna's death. But while sleeping he moves a lot. I move a lot. The combination produces odd outcomes that I'd rather not think about. Mainly because the most comfortable sleep I've ever gotten has been with him.

After about two hours of lying on the bathroom floor, thinking about making it my permanent home, I couldn't ignore the polite knocking on the door anymore.

"What?" I growled at a pleasant looking young man, carrying my breakfast tray. I realized only after he had leered at me quite sufficiently that I was wearing less than him.

"Good morning, General Davideus, sir. How are you this fine morn?"

"Not good. Thanks for the food. You must have quite a bit of work to do. Go on and do it. Have a nice day, while you're at it," I said, ushering him out the door. Even though I was rude and angry, he winked at me before I slammed the door in his face.

The various eggs reminded me of the Hetwan, so while I ate I reviewed some maps and made some plans of attack, while occasionally using pieces of food as symbols. Hey, it made the time pass without me thinking about Christopher or anything else uncomfortable. Not thinking about that kind of stuff makes me happy. Just as the Viking fleets of cheese were about to cross the Hetwan bread line, Jalil and April walked in.

"Hey, Dave," she said, her voice drifting from cheery to confused. "Umm…"

"Playing with your food is clothing optional now?" Jalil said in amused tone.

"Oh yeah... I forgot again. And I'm forming a line of offense, smartass," I said ripping off half the Hetwan line and dipping it in a nearby by lake of this guacamole type stuff.

"Have you seen Christopher?" She asked.

"No!" I said that a little bit louder than I hoped I would. Then I nearly chocked on my bread when I tried to cover it up. "No, not since he brought me up here."

"Oh," April's mouth curved slightly into a tiny frown. Jalil was unfazed. He probably knew I was lying, or trying to hide something, but either didn't realize what, or care. "Aren't those his shoes?"

She was pointing to a muddy, lifeless looking pair of size 13 Nikes. Mine were obliterated, size 10, black and white (currently all black) nameless running shoes.

"Must've left them here," I said lamely. I could feel the redness on my cheeks. Who would leave their shoes in someone else's room? Stupid, stupid Christopher…

"Why would he—?" Jalil started, probably the question I was asking myself, but was then cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs from April. She smile brightly and pushed Jalil away.

"I'll just go take those back to him then. I wanted to talk to him anyway."

She picked up the shoes, pinching the tongues together so the very least of her skin touched them, and damn near dragged Jalil out of the room with her. Now, I wouldn't normally have done this, but I followed them and listened behind the door. There was something about the way April looked at me and then stopped Jalil from saying anything. She definitely had an "I-have-to-tell-you-something-but-not-in-front-of-David-or-he'll kill-me" face. I was right too.

"What was that all about?" Jalil asked sharply.

"Christopher didn't just leave his shoes there when he dropped him off last night. I mean, that's really lame. And did you see David blush? And the way he jumped on when I asked if he'd seen Chris?"

"Yeah, obviously he was lying, but why—?"

"And since when does /David/ lounge around without any clothes on?"

"I don't know. I really don't keep records," he said quickly, before she cut him off.

"Christopher spent the night in David's room," she said in a low voice. My heart started pounding a little weaker just then.

"Yeah, so what? They have a lot before. Maybe Christopher took on a sense of decency to make sure David didn't… I don't know, do something stupid while he was drunk. But knowing Christopher he probably just passed out there."

"Then he'd still have his shoes on, wouldn't he?"

"Fine then. Got really drunk and wanted to beat David to death with his shoes but then passed out? I don't know. What's your point with the shoes April?"

"David and Christopher slept together!"

"They've slept in the same—Oh… wait… Say what? I don't think so. Those two homophobes."

"Exactly! Do you know why people are homophobic?"

"… they're denying something." I could almost hear the quizzical eyebrow shoot up to his hairline. It was easy to hear since my damn heart had stopped!

"Yes. David was drunk. Christopher probably got drunk after he brought David back to his room. They've obviously both been sad since their respective female love interests went /bye-bye./ Sad… and lonely. And with both of them not thinking clearly about the consequences… Well, I don't think it's that farfetched."

I listened intently for the next few seconds, but no sounds came. They had walked away. I could feel a slow thud in my chest again as soon as I walked away from the door. My heart felt like lead, moving slowly and weighing itself down to the bottom of my stomach. Surely, April and Jalil wouldn't say anything to Christopher about their suspicions. And they wouldn't come back to talk to me about it. Well, what could I do but deny it! I mean, I did NOT sleep with Christopher. We just fell asleep and somehow wound up in the same bed. We were fully clothed. Well, Chris was… The weight in my stomach sunk a lot lower.

I groaned. I didn't remember anything from the night before. Well, not much. I remember white towels, or sheets. Flying, but that had to be my imagination. Some thing or someone holding me for a really long time. Then more clearly, I remember the bedroom. My bedroom. I drank some water. My cuts hurt. (My cuts? What the hell had I been doing?) Christopher was there… watching me take my clothes off. I must've been wearing a lot because it felt like forever. But I knew Christopher was watching me take off my clothes and I didn't yell at him, or tell him to leave or anything. In fact I turned towards him. I… I smiled at him. Then I fell asleep. And I woke up with Aroused Christopher spooning me… Gah!

I sat down, rather quickly on the floor. I was hoping there was a chair behind me. There wasn't, but that's livable. I rubbed my eyes hard. My temples were beginning to throb. For the first time the whole morning, I felt suddenly exposed and cold. An arctic blast had blown in through my room. If I didn't leave soon I would get frostbitten. I fumbled around quickly through my drawers. Raggedy, torn, stained sweats. Pretty much the only thing I had left from the Old World besides my underwear. They could survive one more run, I told myself.

The running had cleared my mind for a short while. I didn't really need to concentrate on much while I ran. The pulsating blood pumping through my struggling limbs. My lungs bursting, enflamed waiting for one short, abrasive surge of oxygen. My muscles felt weak and shaky afterwards. When I got back to my room, I let myself collapse. I had been running for too long. I felt absolutely feeble. I'd felt that way far too many times before to describe it with less than excruciating accuracy. But at least, this time, I had done it to myself. No outside pressure. No one else was manipulating me to do what they wanted me to do. I was hurt and exhausted, but of my own will.

Its ironic how I should do things like that only to remind me how most of the time, everything is out of my control. Everything that happens to me is out of my jurisdiction. Then a slim, confident, sly voice says, "But it is your fault. You could stop it, but you just don't." That's when everything I thought I had grip on loosens. I either work harder, pushing it out of sight, but let it remain, nagging me in the back of my brain or grab a hold of it and let it take me, just so, maybe, I can forget it once. I usually let it nag me into a physical breakdown, or something close to that. That night, just like the night before, I decided to say, "Fuck it."

I was allowed one tiny little break in my life, right? I didn't have to be the upstanding, lifesaver, son-of-a-stupid-fool-hero all the time, did I? Nothing was ever constant in life. Why did David Levin have to be?

Again I don't remember much, but I know a few things. It started with a bottle of wine from the breakfast tray. Then more at lunch. More and more alcohol. More people. April and Jalil wanted to talk to me, but we couldn't I knew what they wanted to talk about. No need to talk about that. Christopher (where had he come from?) told them to lay off. But then there was a huge fight and no more April or Jalil. We sat on the floor, drank, and made off color comments to each other. Why this? Why that? Why aren't there any vampires, or werewolves, in Everworld? Who cares? Have another shot, or a glass, or a pint. We played baseball in my room. Chris almost fell off the balcony so we sobered up for a while. We talked about Senna and Etain and how women aren't good for anything and screw you over in the end. There was a long blur of activity from then until I puked off the balcony. That brought me back to earth a little.

It was dark out by that time. Christopher was dragging me to my bed. I think I couldn't stand. We got there. After endless twirling and giant jerking halts, we got there. I don't know why it was so damn important.

He was on top of me. He didn't have a shirt on either and I thought it was funny. I told him and he touched my face. More skin than I thought I could bare was touching me. His chest. It was skinnier than mine and his hair was only just visible. I remember that vividly. I think I was starting to sober up a little more at that point. My sweating forehead felt cold. His hand warmed me. His other hand went down my pants and I gasped, as it felt cold there. But the more I inhaled, the more his stomach was still pressed against mine. It made me shiver. His face brushed against mine. Fair, soft, high cheek-boned cheek to wider, hollow, dusky cheek. My wide bridged nose bumped his narrow one. His blue eyes bore into my brown ones. His thinner, pinker, curvier lips brushed, smashed, and explored my own.

My senses were definitely becoming more acute. The heat had risen. The friction had mounted. Our clothes were finding their way on the floor. Not through one second of this had either of us thought. Not through the focusing of eyes, the sobering of minds, had we stopped to ask or say a word. It just clicked. It simply was. Courtesy, and gentleness, was long forgotten.

He pulled my hair. I bit his shoulder. We were grinding against each other. With the heat and moans rising, one of us realized that we either had to stop or complete the act. There was no asking. Or taking or giving. It was when it happened, however little sense that makes. It seemed surreal. Like we were still affected by the alcohol. But deep down, you know, it's mostly in your mind. To a certain extent, it is the chemicals in your body, but behind that, it's really nothing you've never thought about doing.

There was intense heat of friction. Little jolts of electricity shot down my spine, causing me to arch my back and shudder. There was incessant touching, never letting go. There was pain. But he gripped the sides of my stomach or the insides of my thighs and smothered my choked noises with his mouth. Our bodies writhed and twisted, then in the motion there was finally light and pleasure. Pleasure that allowed both of us to speak. It was stupid, incoherent rambling, but speaking nonetheless. Slowly our bodies stopped rocking. Covered in sweat, Christopher dropped on top of me.

Then, and only then, was I confused as all hell. I was searching for feelings or thoughts that would make me throw Christopher off me and yell and scream. But nothing came. I didn't feel violated or used. I didn't feel worthless or empty. There was silence, not scared, not awkward or expecting. It was just enough silence that I could hear my own heart and his beating, still quickly and half a beat apart. He shifted on his side and I moved with him, not knowing what else to do. He was eye level with me and both our eyes were wide open. Silence again. He held a finger to my lips, which almost felt like breaking the silence. Then he moved up a little, so our feet were level, and gently ran his fingers through my hair, until his entire body relaxed and he was sleeping. For the first time, in very, very long, I felt content.

When I woke up, I was still riding a mild euphoria of contentment. Looking around, I saw Christopher was gone. I didn't look around wildly, or even think about going to his room. What would be the point? He had obviously done what everyone else in my godforsaken life had planned for me. Fuck up David then leave. What fun is there without it?

I stood out of bed, totally naked, and tried not to feel the least bit of sadness. Tried not to feel any sort of heaviness in my limbs. It had been nothing, after all. Just a night of stupid drunkenness. I was glad it was over. Really.



TBC?!

That was certainly more than I expected from David muse. I guess a year or so of being locked away in a cage in the basement leaves you with quite a bit of pent up… everything. I hope my Christopher muse is up to the challenge of following this chapter up.