A Taste of Creation - Author's Note: Hey everyone, this is my first Nip/Tuck fanficiton, well my first fanfiction really, however I've written for a while. Plese comment, good or bad, but please make it constructive - don't just bash the story for the fun of it. Also, this is slash so if you're homophobic or something please don't read it. Yay, hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Just for the record I, obviously, don't own Nip/Tuck or it's characters, here they are merely rendered for the enjoyment of other fans of the show.

Christian...

He had always found his hands infinitely fascinating – the long, slender fingers filled with an innate consciousness that almost suggested life. They reminded him of his talent, the gift that allowed him, if only for an instant, to have a taste of Creation. He was more than an artist, more than a surgeon, perhaps even more than a man because his work, his hands, forged youth from decay, beauty from plainness –Dr. Christian Troy was more than a doctor because he not only healed, he began.

"Christian?"

Startled from reflection he directed his attention to the now-occupied doorway where Sean stood, leaning against the frame. "Jesus Sean, you scared me."

"You OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He crossed the room slowly, his overly-professional leather shoes leaving vague footprints in the soft carpet. He crouched beside Christian, looked up at him, "Christian, it's OK to be in pain, it's ok to hurt."

Pain ravaging his chest, creeping up his neck. He desperately wanted to talk to Sean, wanted to tell him everything, everything. "That's just it," Christian mumbled, "I'm not sure it's okay not to anymore." Soft arms around his neck, welcoming and repulsive in their naïve acceptance. "Sean," he breathed, "Sean." His best friend, his partner, finally released him, sat back on his heels.

"You need to get out of your condo for awhile, especially with Kimber out of town, you have to stop being alone all the time. Why don't you come over tonight, we can watch some football – like old times."

The obtrusive ring of the cell phone, shrill and unexpected from Sean's pocket. "Hello? Of course. I'll be right there. Yeah, Bye." He was almost out of the room when he said, "So, see you tonight?"

"Sure. You got beer?" Sean laughed and disappeared into the hall.

Christian watched the rain streak down his windshield, tears coming to fateful fruition on the glass. Finally he swung the car door open, ran to Sean's open doorway, slipped inside. The house was tidy, organized, maybe even welcoming in it's design but Christian honestly didn't care, he was too focused on the subtle smell beneath the cleaner – like leather and mint gum, like Sean.

"You're here," Sean stood, smiling before him, "I didn't hear you come in."

A feeble dinner, comprised mostly of left over pizza, was arranged on the countertop. "How sweet," Christian said, the famous sarcastic smile creeping over his mouth, "you've finally gotten in touch with your feminine side."

Sean smiled, "Yes, the number for the pizza place is tricky, it's almost completely in diagonals, the practice from my crocheting is crucial."

A laugh, simple and genuine. "Seriously though," Christian said, "I hope the game's better than the food." He watched Sean cross to the counter, felt the blue mosaic of his eyes slide over the long line of Sean's chin, torso, ass. He could feel the first tinges of an erection and immediately looked away. What was he doing, what was wrong with him? Did he want Sean? His ass hole still ached from the rape and here he was, eye-fucking his best friend, what was wrong with him?

"Christian?" He snapped back to his partner, "Whisky or beer?"

"Huh, oh, beer."

Sean's brow ruffled, concerned, interested, it was hard to tell. "OK."

Christian had stopped watching the game a full half hour ago, stopped caring about touchdown after touchdown, became engrossed in thoughts of sex, of redemption, of peace. He had never noticed how beautiful Sean was, not really, and as he traced his eyes down his partner's face, neck, the smooth curve of his back Christian felt himself getting hard, felt the desire growing, harder, harder, harder.

Sean...

He recoiled quickly into the couch cushions, "Christian, what are you doing?" But he knew, of course he knew and worse, he didn't really care. The sensation of Christian on top of him, the pressure of his cock against his leg, it all felt – good. So when Christian bent over him, touched his lips gently to Sean's own, Sean didn't pull away. Christian's tongue in his mouth, hungry and groping, his hand on Christian's swelling cock – his shirt, jacket, pants slipping to the ground. Christian in his mouth and his whole body shuttering with each surge of erotic energy as he sucked, sucked, slid his hands up the long, muscular thighs. And the taste of semen in his mouth, unparalleled, delicious. Sean slid up, kissed him, kissed him, kissed him. He felt Christian behind him, in him, each grappling rock of his hips painful, perfect. And afterwards, collapsed on the floor, bodies twisted together – sweating, heaving, peaceful. Sean kissed Dr. Troy's chest, slid his tongue over the stiffening nipple, laid peacefully down.

"Sean?"

He groaned in easy response.

"Thank you."

He pushed himself up on his elbow, "For what?"

"After," he paused for a long moment, "after that night at the beach house, everything was about him, about the pain. You know, and it wasn't even about the actual carving, it was the rape. Sean, what if I could've done something to him, to my foster father, what if I could've stopped it? That was all I could think about, dream about. I was petrified of everything, everyone, but you were always there to love me. And now, you've given me something…real."

Sean couldn't think of anything to say, Christian was so rarely open it was hard to respond. So he kissed him, slowly, gently, giving Christian what it appeared he had always wanted, someone to love him – no matter what.