He banged on the door with a closed fist and backed up, trying to look like he wasn't worried about Damon not taking him in this time. He wasn't sure if he managed to get the combination of easy going cool and subtle fuck you attitude, but he didn't have time to adjust his features before Damon opened the door. Yeah, he'd known he was there.

"Dove. You high?"

Dove snorted. "No."

"Hungry?" He actually sounded concerned.

"No."

"Are you-"

"Shit, Damon. Just want to see you, all right? You don't want me, fine. Going now." He turned and started to walk away, wrapping the rejection around him like a cloak.

He heard Damon sigh. "Where you been, Dove?" he asked quietly.

Dove stopped. He didn't turn around to look at Damon, just said, "San Francisco, the last couple of days."

"Why would you go there?" Damon sounded amused. "What the hell is in San Francisco?"

Dove looked over his shoulder. "We goin' in or not?"

Damon stepped back and made a show of inviting Dove in, his grin slightly sardonic. Dove rolled his eyes and stalked past him into the kitchen where he waited until Damon sat down on one of the hard kitchen chairs before making himself comfortable. In Damon's lap.

"Uh, hi, Dove."

"Hey."

"You wanna talk about it?" Damon asked, one arm looping around Dove's waist, the other hand resting on Dove's thigh.

"Not really. Just want to-ah hell." Dove sighed and leaned his head back against Damon's shoulder, wondering what the hell he did want. Damon's hand started to run lightly up and down his thigh.

"Remember the night you refused to go the club with me?" he finally asked.

Damon nodded. "Yeah. You were wired and I was pissy. You know, sometimes I can watch you do that. Sometimes I can watch you get into it and watch you fuck some guy…sometimes I think I'll shatter. Couldn't do it that night."

Dove sighed again. "Needed to play. Really really fucking had to."

"I know."

"I was twitchy, no one would play with me. They thought I was high."

Damon's hand slid down to his knee and back up. "Were you?"

"Fuck no. I don't go there high. I get high if I can't get there, not the other way around."

Damon nodded. "So what happened?" Again, his hand petted Dove's thigh.

"Guy came in. Wanted someone with an edge. Wanted me. British, sun bleached hair…fuck, Damon. He was beautiful. Name's Simon. He took it all and then some. Was fucking perfect, the way were together. He wanted the cat and I made it fucking sing-I danced and he was stunning, just taking it and needing it and drawing it all out of me."

Damon's fingers started to trace his cock, half hard remembering Simon's grin and his back and the way he cried out and moved.

"He was mine for that moment. I could do anything he needed. Anything I needed. Total sync. He came on my cock and it was…fuck. Was something. I cleaned him up after, talked to him. His boy doesn't like blood, doesn't get why he needed to do this; I got it. I was flyin', you know?"

Damon didn't answer, just kept tracing Dove's erection through tight jeans, hips rocking oh so slightly. Dove could feel him getting hard.

"I should have been flying for days, a week or more."

"What happened?"

"Macy found me."

Damon's hand stilled. "You okay?"

Dove nodded sharply. "I ran. I hid for two days. Didn't get near me."

"Freaked you out, though." Damon's hand went back to Dove's thigh, stroking higher though, cupping his balls. Dove was still hard.

"Scored. Got so fucking high."

"Why didn't-"

"You didn't need me bringing this shit down on you."

Damon kissed his neck. "Asshole."

"Whatever. Came down in San Fran two days ago. Needed money so I hit a couple of clubs and did my thing. Man, it was wild. One guy wanted the crop and he could take almost as much as Simon. Thing was he didn't want to bleed; you know how hard it is to do that? Not break skin and hurt as much as this guy needed it? Made him come though, just from the crop. Got out of there and went to another place, wound up with some jerk off with a low pain threshold, which is even harder. No blood, just a fine edge to bring him over without hurting too much. That's why I'm the best-can do the hard ones as well as the fucks who need to hurt so bad they can't see."

He practically feel Damon rolling his eyes at his bragging. Damon stroked him through his jeans again though, and said, "Yeah. You're the best. Scary, but the best." Fingers started to lower his zipper and Dove shifted, giving Damon room. "Why didn't you come home when you had the money, then?"

Dove hesitated then kicked himself. Shouldn't have started talking if he didn't want to give it all up.

"Was hard as a fucking rock. Two floggings and I didn't get off? You know what I'm like. So I was heading for the bus station, about to step into an alley and jerk off when I saw Simon."

Damon freed his erection and started stroking him off. "The perfect client from the other night. The Brit."

"Yeah. We talked for a couple of minutes." Dove moved forward a little, hips starting to push his cock into Damon's hand. "He sucked me off in the alley."

Damon chuckled. "He sucked *this* off? Fuck, guy must be something not to turn pale and run."

"Shut up," Dove said with a grin. "Yeah, he's got a fucking amazing mouth. Took it all in and worked me over good. Made me fucking wild."

"You come in his mouth?" Damon asked, his voice husky in Dove's ear.

"No, shot against the wall. He called me 'pretty bird'. I think I liked that."

Damon stroked him harder. "Then what?"

"We went dancing. Shit, harder, Damon. Fuck, that's nice."

Damon stroked him harder. "Dancing. You mean fucking with clothes on. Seen you dance, Dove."

"Yeah, fucking with…with clothes. Until there weren't clothes." Dove was starting to pant, Damon's hand tight around his cock, thumb teasing the head of his cock and his other hand sliding down to his balls. Dove's own hands were gripping the edge of the table.

"You fucked him?"

"Yeah. In the club, over the railing of the balcony. Fucked him hard, Damon, made him scream. Right there, people fucking everywhere and I came in his ass and it was just so-oh shit!" Dove bucked and cried out, jets of come spraying the edge of the table and spilling over Damon's hand. Damon didn't stop working him, didn't stop rocking into him.

"You want to be with him, Dove? You want this Simon for yourself?" He sounded hard and pissed and horny.

"No. Shit Damon, you're gonna fucking keep me up, aren't you? Fuck, no I don't want him for my own. We'd destroy each other, drown each other in our pain."

"But you wanna fuck him again?"

"Yeah."

"What do you want right now, Dove?"

"Fuck me. Christ, Damon. Fuck me."

Damon stood up, draping him over the table and pushing his jeans down. Dove held onto the table and heard Damon search through is pockets until he found the rubbers and then there was the sound of latex, a sound Dove always heard before sex. The sound of anticipation.

Damon didn't waste time, just ploughed into him and fucked him hard on the table. Dove cried out when Damon found his sweet spot and then there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him back, impaling him over and over again.

He was hard again, needing and starving. Damon was using him, taking him so close to the edge and pushing him away again until Dove was ready to scream with frustration.

"Please, Damon. Fuck, just-"

"Next time-" Damon ground out. "Next time I want-"

"What? Fuck, anything. Just make me come, damn it!"

"Next time you see this Simon I want to watch."

Dove screamed and came.