Someone call the doctor?

"It never fails; there's always someone who shows me what it is to care about others. Just the other day I had a kid walk into my office, right through the front door, all alone. The office hadn't even opened, so no one else was in yet. I ask him why he's there, and he gives me this weary sigh, like he thinks this is a waste of time! Then he says to me 'My daddy told me I had to come and see the doctor'. That's not a very strange answer, I know, but he was alone and was acting like this was a god awful hassle to him. And yet his voice had an apologetic note to it, as if he was there only to do as his father had told him and didn't really want to bother me.

"I asked him why his father thought he should come, and he said to me 'Because he thinks I'm sick'. Such an answer from a small child! He couldn't be more than seven, maybe on some gigantic stretch eight. I was stunned nearly silent. I couldn't believe he answered the way he did, and so serious. So I asked him why his father would think he was sick. He just looked at me, then finally answered in a mumble. I prompted him again, and he said 'He's paranoid.'. Another strange answer! I ask him if he thinks he is sick, and he looks down. He says quietly to my floor, 'Not if it's a bother.' Not a bother? Why would his health be a bother?

"I managed, despite his conviction that there couldn't be anything wrong, to convince him to stay for an examination, but he said he had to go to school straight after. His father had always told him education was priceless he confided to me. He left after I drew some blood. I had taken down his information so I could call his family before he left."

"Misao, you are on vacation. We are on vacation. Stop thinking about work. You left Hottori-san with the office, so quit worrying," the blonde next to him, stretched out like a cat upon the sofa, said and waved a hand dismissively.

Misao, sitting stretched out on the thick rug, drew his legs up away from the fire towards his chest and opened his mouth to object, but closed it. Yukihiro was right, he was worried and that was all. He couldn't stop thinking about work and his patients. Doctor Hottori was a good doctor, very competent, but he still worried. Even the soothing fire, dancing provocatively red and orange on the blackening logs, couldn't stop the concern from squeezing his chest.

Watching the young doctor on the floor for a moment, Yukihiro noticed his tense form, cramped and rigid. He slid from the couch, his body a collection of graceful lines in the jumping shadows from the fire, and sat behind his doctor, encircling him with long arms and legs. Misao leaned into him, stretching his legs back out and sighing.

Tucking the dark red strands behind Misao's ear, Yukihiro leaned down and whispered into it, "Don't worry so much. Everything will be just fine." He then lowered his head further and drew the one chain-link earring Misao was wearing into his mouth. The metal was cool, but his mouth heated it in a second.

Yukihiro's breath, hot against the sensitive hollow directly below his ear, brought a shiver racing down Misao's spine even though the room was warm from the fire. When Yukihiro licked the same spot, the earring still in his mouth. Misao nearly whined from the grate of the metal and the smooth wetness of the tongue against his skin.

"Yuki.."

Releasing the small metal links, the blonde squeezed his little lover, resorting to nibbling the edge of the ear instead. Misao shivered again, not daring to move lest he stop. When he did pull away, Misao turned alayilaying his legs over the junction of Yukihiro's thigh and pelvis, wrapped his arms about the blonde's neck. Yukihiro's pastel gray eyes looked like steel against the light blue of Misao's dress shirt. The fire was ensnared in the gold of his hair. Misao raked his fingernails through the strands, holding the edges and looking steadily into the amused gray with his warm brown.

One thing Yukihiro couldn't avoid was Misao's eyes. They were always on him, and they made his blood rise. He couldn't avoid those liquid brown eyes when they were in the same room together. Complimented by the creamy skin and rich red hair, they were captivating, and he didn't mind being the exclusive prey at all.

He ran his hands up from Misao's waist, to his shoulders and up to his face, cupping it and bringing them together until their lips met. The kiss seared them both. Yukihiro feasted on the rewards, delving into the unresisting honeycomb with his tongue. The corner of his mouth rose in the smallest smile as he felt Misao's fingers on the collar of his shirt.

"Aren't you cold?" the disheveled redhead asked, his head on Yukihiro's naked chest.

Yukihiro, stretched-out in the luxurious aftermath of uncompromised pleasure, replied simply, "Not really, the fire has my feet warm, my wrists are covered, and your palms are warm on my chest. I'm fine, incredibly so."

"So I noticed," Misao growled, grinning aitiniting his pale chest.

"Hm hm," Yukihiro chuckled, removing a hand from behind his head to slide it into Misao's damp red hair.

Looking up into the mellow gray eyes, Misao slid up to cover his lover with his body, entering his mouth with kisses. Underneath him, Yukihiro growled low in his throat, smiling like a soon-to-be-sated satyre. He rolled them over and again they coupled fiercely in passion, the animal sounds of unsatable pleasure mingling with the near silence of the snow falling outside. They drove each other to the edge and back many times throughout the night and into the morning.

Upon waking late in the morning, the sun pouring unstintingly through the open curtains, Yukihiro rose and, dragging on the pants he fished out from the welter of discarded clothes on the floor, went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. That afternoon they skied all day, and in the evening Yukihiro made Misao forget that there was anything other than their rented cabin in the mountains and the pleasure of their excited flesh.