Disclaimer: The characters from the show aren't mine, they belong to
others. No copyright infringement intended. Again, if someone's used
the name(s) or storyline(s) elsewhere, the same applies. Any
characters you don't recognise are mine. Feedback would be nice,
positive feedback would be nicer. Enjoy!

Category: Holby City slash fic
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Anton Meyer, Alex Adams
Series: One of two
Spoilers: Anything after the ep aired on 8/13
Summary: Alex decides Anton needs more than just yelling at.
Archive: Just tell me where it's going
Additional `stuff': My first ever HC slash fic. For those not
familiar with the series, go here for an overview.

Email: fanficwriter101@aol.com

www.bbc.co.uk – click on Holby City.

Title: Every cloud – Part One

 



Every Cloud



Anton Meyer sighed loudly, heaved himself up from the armchair and
walked, slightly unsteadily, to the door. Pulling it sharply open, it
took him a moment to find the words to greet his unexpected
visitor. `Go away.'

In reply, Alex Adams simply barged past Meyer, which wasn't
difficult, and into his home.

`Which part of my last instruction did you not fully comprehend,
Doctor Adams?' Meyer hissed in a pointless attempt to make Adams
leave.

Alex ignored him and looked around. He took in the open bottle of
scotch, several inches of the amber liquid missing, the heavy glass
beside it, a few drops of the spirit surrounding it. The answering
machine, the light blinking and the red numeral `1' glowing on the
digital display.

`Doctor Adams?' Meyer was unsettled by Adam's sudden, unwelcome
intrusion.

`Nice place.'

`Thank you. Now get out.'

`No.'

`What?'

Alex shook his head. `No. I'm not leaving.'

Meyer sighed, then walked into the kitchen, ignoring Alex who was
making himself comfortable on the leather sofa.

`We can't. Not here.'

Alex shrugged. `Okay. We'll go to my place.'

Meyer sighed, picked up his keys and followed Alex out. The last
thing he wanted was his wife to say she was staying in the UK while
he went alone to the States. It wouldn't impress his new bosses if
his divorce became transatlantic. Her suspicions he could cope with.
Her coming home and finding Alex in the house with him would probably
be beyond his capacity to explain away.

`I'll drive. You're drunk.'

`And whose fault is that?' Meyer said, concentrating on not tripping
over on his way to the car.

`Yours.'

Anton thought about responding, then decided against it, simply
getting into the car.

*********
Safely in Alex's flat, Meyer dropped onto the sofa. He took the
coffee Alex handed him a few minutes later and sat quietly, drinking
it. When his mug was empty, he replaced it on the coffee table,
already feeling less unsteady than he had thirty minutes earlier.

`If you're going to Michigan, we shouldn't waste any time.' Alex
said, unbuttoning his shirt.

`No.' Meyer's firm response was instant.

`Why not?'

`Because…I…can't…My wife…'

`Won't know unless you tell her.' Alex leaned down and hooked a
finger into the knot in Anton's perfectly tied tie.

Anton tried desperately to stop Alex's hands. `Michigan, Dr Adams, we
should talk about…'

`Do you ever stop talking?'

His tie was unhooked now, and Anton felt his resolve weakening as
other parts of his anatomy did exactly the opposite. But still he had
to try. `Dr Adams, I don't think…'

His teeth nipping gently at Anton's earlobe, Alex whispered: `Call me
Alex.'

Anton groaned, too drunk on whiskey and the sensations overloading
his brain to form a coherent reply. `Can't…'

Alex smiled. The smile of a man who knew he would get what he wanted
and was prepared to wait while the target of his attentions worked
that out. `Yes, you can. Do you need to shower?'

`No.' Anton gasped.

Alex chuckled quietly, transferring his attentions to Anton's
throat. `How many other people were you expecting Anton?' He asked
teasingly. He wasn't surprised when he didn't get a reply.

After a couple more minutes fumbling with his own and Anton's
remaining clothing, they were both naked and Alex put out a
hand. `C'mon. If you are leaving, I want something to remember you
by.'

Slowly putting a hand to his chest, Anton's fingers brushed the
reddened patch of skin over his collar bone, flinching as his fingers
pressed the sore skin. `You hurt me.'

His voice, Alex noticed was firmer, less disjointed. Alex smiled
apologetically. `I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you.'

************

Meyer looked around the room as Alex pushed him backwards onto the
huge bed. Masculine without being butch. Muted colors. Tidy. Not what
he'd expected.

`I don't…' Meyer knew Alex would understand what he meant.

Alex did, and ignored the objection. He had no intention of letting
Anton top him this time. `There's always a first time.' Slowly but
firmly, he rolled Meyer onto his stomach.

After a token struggle, which ended when Alex leaned his body across
Anton, holding him down, while he reached for the supplies on his
bedside table, whether from compliance or nervousness, Anton lay
still. He gasped as Alex's fingers, coated in the cold lubricant,
pressed inside him.

`Sorry.' Alex followed his apology with a third finger, all the time
stretching Anton who bucked under him as Alex's fingers pushed
deeper, mischievously hitting the sensitive gland each time Anton
tensed.

Finally, Alex judged Anton was as ready as he was likely to be. He
shifted his weight, reaching an arm under Anton, steadying him. A
moment before he moved, Alex paused. `Anton?'

Breathing harshly, Meyer snapped: `Get on with it.'

Alex sighed and moved away, kneeling back on his heels. `Perhaps you
didn't understand. I'm in charge now. I call the shots.' To emphasise
his words, he reached down to Meyer's groin, cupping his genitals,
stroking Meyer's heavy sac with his fingernail until he heard a
strangled groan. Grasping the rigid shaft, he squeezed the head
firmly, dampening Anton's imminent release. And eliciting another
rather gratifying moan.

Desperate, Meyer hissed: `Alex, please…'

Alex chuckled, lifting himself up again. `That's better.'
Immediately, he pushed into Meyer, gratified by the reaction to his
effort.

Continued in Part Two…




 

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