pointless drabble

[maderr]

Low wondered if making out could be counted as a hobby.

He rumbled softly as they shifted on the couch, Peter beneath him, warm and pliant. The kisses, slow and lazy, were flavored of hazelnut coffee and cream.

Fingers pushed and nudged, and Low made low, indistinct noises of approval as fingers slid lazily along his skin, sinking his own into Peter's hair, trailing his freed hand along whatever of Peter he could reach.

It had, so far, been a quiet night. Sally had gone into town, Jordan dragged along after heavy protesting, and no patients had yet stopped by. Lowell rather hoped the town stayed healthy tonight.

He settled his weight a bit more firmly, growling low at the satisfaction brought by being pressed so close to his mate.

That he was allowed to do this, that Peter wanted it just as badly, was still heady and strange – but he would like to meet the man who would refuse such an offer.

Peter's hands grew slightly bolder, making Lowell shiver and want to tease in his turn, shyness banked by instinct and desire. Still, the heat didn't flare entirely out of control. Except for the first couple of nights, it seemed they were always stealing hasty moments, or forced to seek privacy in the forest.

The pitfalls, he supposed, of being mated to a doctor perpetually on call for a nosy small town.

So, slow and lazy and easy. They could do hot and heavy soon. For now, this was nice.

Peter broke the long string of kisses to nuzzle at his throat.

Lowell shivered, then shifted them enough that Peter was laid flat out on the couch.

"Feeling well, Low?" Peter asked with a smile. "You look a bit flushed." He tugged Lowell down and kissed him before Lowell could formulate a reply. He was panting as they broke apart. "I could recommend some treatment."

"You and your jokes," Lowell replied, shaking his head.

"They make you smile, don't deny it," Peter replied, and then they were back to kissing, touching lightly, though this time it was Lowell who managed to get his hands beneath Peter's shirt and sometime soon it would be coming off but still it was nice not to be—

A familiar chime rang out. Lowell groaned.

Peter heaved a sigh. "Whoever it is, he had better be sick or I will be sorely tempted to see that he leaves here less than healthy."

Lowell growled low in agreement, and went easily when Peter tugged him down for another kiss. As the chime came again, signaling the arrival of someone in the clinic, he finally broke the kiss and forced himself to get off the couch and Peter.

Holding out a hand, he helped Peter to his feet, resisting the urge to take another kiss because then whoever it was would likely be waiting a long time.

"Hold that thought," Peter said with a wink. "I'll be back soon."

Lowell smiled, knowing his cheeks must be red but not caring, and settled back down on the couch as Peter vanished to attend his patient. Reaching down, he snatched up the book he'd dropped when Peter had shown up earlier and relaxed.

He'd much rather make out, but there were definitely way worse things in life than stretching out on a couch that smelled like his mate, with a good book and a promise of more making out in the near future.