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"What on Earth are you doing, Martin!?" Douglas called from the doorway, shivering in his silk bathrobe. "It's not even dawn!"
Martin huffed out a cloud of breath and kept shoveling the darkened drive. "What's it look like-" the shovel made a choff sound as it dug into the snow "-I'm doing? I'm digging-" He straightened and with a twist, heaved the shovel of snow over his shoulder, "I'm d-digging us out."
From the doorway, Douglas could hear the small click of Martin's teeth as he fought the cold. Martin's winter coat was still the one he'd had when he lived alone; sturdy enough wool, but a size too small and thinning in patches.
"Flight to Vienna." Choff went the shovel again. "N-need to get to the airfield. Drive to Carolyn's."
"Martin, love, you don't need to do that. Come inside."
"Yes, I d-do Douglas." The shovelful of snow flew into the dark front yard. "The airfield isn't closed and weather is c-clearing. The f-flight's not cancelled and Carolyn's not paying for a cab so the d-drive needs to be clear so-"
"The drive's going to be done by nine AM though."
Martin leaned on the shovel to dig it into a harder section of packed snow. "Well it might if you stop d-distracting me."
"No, Martin. The owner of a towing and plowing business in town owes me a favour. He sends someone round to plow my drive before nine in the morning any time it snows. Clears the walkway too."
Martin looked at the section of drive and walk he'd managed to clear in however long he'd been out there, then at the much larger section yet to be cleared. "...really?" he puffed.
"Yes, really. Now come back inside, you'll c-catch your death." Douglas clamped down on the sudden shiver and pulled his robe tight. "As will I."
Martin trudged up the cleared section to the door, impaling a pile of snow with the shovel and leaving it there. Douglas ushered him inside and shut the door against the cold.
Without the activity of shoveling Martin had begun shivering in earnest, teeth chattering as he fumbled with the buttons on his coat.
"Here," Douglas said, batting Martin's frigid hands away from his coat buttons to take over the job.
"I can m-manage, D-d-d-"
"Yes, I know you can," Douglas said gently, "but I never turn down an opportunity to take your clothes off. You should know that by now."
Martin's face which was red from the cold got a tiny bit redder, and he grinned shyly around chattering teeth as Douglas eased him out of his coat.
Chunks of melting snow slid off the coat onto the entryway floor. The coat was soaked through. Wet patches showed on the shoulders of Martin's shirt. Frowning, Douglas laid a hand on the side of Martin's neck, rubbing a thumb against his cheek. Martin's eyes closed and he leaned into the touch like a cat; one that had spent some time in an unheated cargo hold at 35,000 feet. Not dangerously cold, but still. Douglas became even more aware of the slight draft coming from the seams of the closed front door.
"Go back to the bedroom," Douglas ordered. "Get out of those wet things and get under the covers."
"Have to g-get ready to-"
"Plenty of time. I'm going to make you something hot to drink."
"B-but-"
"Go. I'll not be argued with."
Douglas watched Martin grumble and shiver his way towards their bedroom before turning to the kitchen and getting out a saucepan and put it on the counter. As he assembled milk, cream, sugar and pure vanilla extract next to it, an unbidden yawn slipped out. It was still very early morning and he'd been hoping for a cozy lie-in of a stolen half hour with Martin, rather than an unexpected morning adventure in the snow. No reason why we can't make the best of it.
He retrieved a sealed canister from the top shelf of the cupboard. Douglas had been given the Belgian chocolate in one of his many little international gift exchanges but had passed this particular gift on a few bars lighter, to no one's great loss. He pulled out the darkest bar, knowing Martin's favour for the rich hint of bitterness in the higher cocoa blends (from an evening spent sampling handmade truffles in a variety of creative ways), and set to grating it into a bowl of fine dark curls.
Douglas didn't know why he'd never made hot chocolate for Martin before. Their relationship was seasoning nicely into a long-term partnership, and Douglas never turned away from any excuse to indulge Martin in a bit of simple decadence. It was to their mutual benefit; Douglas got a deep joy from Martin's wonder and enjoyment of each treat, food and otherwise, and god only knew Martin Crieff could do with as much pampering as he could stand. He supposed the opportunity had never come up. It was only part way through their first official year together, and they'd spent most of the autumn flying the yacht-buyers around the tropics, so hot chocolate opportunities had never come up.
Douglas set the flame low and poured in measures of milk and cream, stirring constantly as he added the chocolate shavings a bit at a time, watching the dark swirls as it melted.
He didn't make this hot chocolate for himself, either. Too much trouble for just himself, and he preferred tea generally. In fact the last time he'd made it was when his daughter had been visiting once over winter hols, and she'd turned her nose up at it for not being the usual stuff that came from a powdery mix. Douglas hadn't been offended; she was only twelve at the time. Her palate wasn't fully refined, used to more brash sweetness and less detailed flavour in her chocolate drinks.
Chocolate all melted in, Douglas added the sugar and vanilla and kept stirring.
He had a brief qualm that Martin might not like it either, but pushed it away. Martin was cold and had been shoveling in the frigid darkness outside, without breakfast or so much as a cup of tea, and Douglas had been assiduously providing Martin with a greater variety of taste experiences than baked potatoes and pasta.
Douglas turned off the hob. He poured the dark hot chocolate into a large mug and carried it to their bedroom door, which stood ajar. Douglas peered quietly in in case Martin had simply taken the opportunity to go back to sleep.
Inside their room, Martin had stripped off his shirt and trousers but left on his vest, pants and socks, so he looked more like he was in the process of dressing rather than undressing. He sat on the edge of the bed, glancing between the dark window and the bedside clock with a distressed expression, still shivering now and then.
Not sleeping at all. Douglas pushed the door the rest of the way open.
Martin looked up, anxious. "You're certain that the drive will be cleared before-"
"Positive. Here, drink some of this." He took one of Martin's cold hands and wrapped it around the steaming mug. "Careful, it's hot."
"Cocoa before breakfast?"
"Mm. I thought it would be appropriate, since you've been out frolicking in the snow."
Martin mock-pouted. "No marshmallow?"
"Give it a taste before you ask for alterations. I think you'll find this is a vastly different beast from the usual, or from Arthur's not-so-usual. Or indeed, from Arthur's 'Hot Marshmallow Rapture', to which the term 'beast' far better applies."
Martin inhaled deeply over the cup, then took a sip. Douglas watched as Martin's eyes slid closed; his sock-covered toes literally curled as he let out a rough and throaty moan.
"Well!" said Douglas, smirking in satisfaction. "I don't know whether to be pleased or jealous. The last time you made a noise like that, we were both a lot more naked."
"I'm sorry, but this is... god, this is fantastic!"
"Never apologise for enjoying something I do for you, Martin." Douglas leaned in and collected a rich chocolate-flavoured kiss. "Now, face down on the bed, I'm going to rub your back."
"What? You don't need to-"
"Yes I do. Did you stretch before attacking the drive?"
Martin blinked, huddled over his mug. "Well I... no."
"There you are. Add a chill to unprepared, just-woken muscles, suddenly asked to heft and twist, and the next thing you know you'll seize up in the cockpit halfway to Vienna."
"I stretch before heavy lifting on van jobs," Martin muttered, putting the mug on the bedside table. "I don't know why I didn't before shoveling."
"Most people don't, but to be honest after this morning's display you'd be getting a backrub whether you'd stretched or not. I just wanted an excuse to get my hands on you." He plucked at the vest covering Martin's torso. "This will have to come off."
"What? Why? It didn't get damp and I'll just be putting it back on to get dressed for work in a bit."
"I suspect you'll want to shower first, after your efforts on the drive?"
"Ah." Martin grimaced. "Yes."
"Also there's the comfort factor. Unless you want the texture of the fabric ground into your skin. Marks & Spencers' cotton weave is hardly sensual."
Martin squawked as Douglas pulled the vest over his head, setting his uncombed hair into even further fetching disarray. "Nothing wrong with a plain cotton vest. It just doesn't seem good value to me to spend that much on every day undergarments."
Douglas hummed contemplatively. "Every day, no." He filed for a later day the thought of Martin lounging in their bed, swathed in subtle silks and satins, waiting to be unwrapped slowly like a particularly complex Christmas present. He tossed the cotton vest over his shoulder. "And low-priced cotton looks just as well piled on the floor, where it should be."
Martin flushed slightly. "Really Douglas, we don't have time for-"
"I know, I'm only flirting. For now." He clapped his hands. "Now. Face down, on the bed."
Quickly taking another sip of hot chocolate, Martin lay down. After a moment spent appreciating the spread of Martin's back and shoulders against the sheets, Douglas knelt up and straddled Martin.
"Not starting anything," Douglas said before Martin could protest the movement. "I need to have the proper angle for this."
"You've always got the proper angle for everything."
"Don't I just," Douglas purred, sliding his broad hands up the still-chilled skin of Martin's back.
Martin hummed appreciatively and fell silent.
Allowing his hands to smooth firmly up and down the skin of Martin's back slowly, warming him, Douglas felt for knots and tension. He ran his hands up onto Martin's shoulders, certain there would be trouble spots there after the shoveling and finding hard bars of protesting muscle. One hand to each side he stroked up and down Martin's cold arms, down to his hands and back up. He then ran his thumbs with gentle pressure up Martin's neck and stroked under Martin's hair with his fingertips, lightly scratching Martin's scalp as he mapped out a path.
"Now, this next part might hurt a bit at first, but I promise you will feel much better after."
Martin barely had a chance to make a dozy querying hum before Douglas slid his hands down to the muscles of Martin's right shoulder and began digging his thumbs in in earnest, wringing an impassioned moan out of Martin, who buried his face in the pillow to muffle it. After a few moments attention to the stiff muscle, Douglas ran his hands down Martin's right arm rubbing the skin briskly to encourage circulation in his chilled flesh, then running down to intertwine their fingers and rub the palm of Martin's hand. Releasing Martin's hand with a small squeeze, he proceeded back up Martin's arm, strong fingers pushing into tense spots, rubbing away knots, back up to his shoulder, then the same on the left shoulder.
"Where did you learn to do this?" Martin moaned, turning his face out of the pillow.
"There was an elective seminar when I was at medical school. I'm not doing it very well though if you're still capable of coherent speech." Douglas moved down onto Martin's upper back and shoulder-blades, digging into the knots under the shoulder-blades before smoothing the tension out and away to his sides.
With another moan, Martin re-buried his face in the pillow.
Careful not to go too near Martin's spine, Douglas smoothed down the ridges of muscle to either side of it, feathering the pressure out and away to the sides as he went, pulling the tension away. Meanwhile Martin was emitting a steady stream of moans and whimpers that Douglas was steadfastly trying to ignore since they did have to get ready for work soon. I will have to do this again for him, when we have more time. Hours. With proper oils. Almond and sandalwood. Naked. Lots and lots of oil...
"You know," Douglas said casually, telling his libido to behave and writing it a mental promissory note. "I can't believe I've never given you a backrub before. Must be too eager to get to rubbing other parts of you."
"If I'd known you could give backrubs like this-" Martin trailed off in a suggestive groan.
"Well, the skill has served me quite well over the years as a method of seduction."
"You didn't use it on me."
"No, you needed something far more-" Douglas dipped his head to place a kiss between Martin's shoulders. "Far more subtle and elaborate."
"Mmm... Wait." Martin peered over his shoulder. "I thought I'd seduced you?"
"Yes, quite." Douglas smirked. "You enticed me with your enchanting, and I'm sure entirely deliberate, coy fumblings for months before winning me over."
Martin turned and snorted into the pillow. "Hardly swept you off your feet, did I?"
"More like a few aborted run-ups before that final memorable flying tackle, but you did indeed sweep me off my feet." Douglas smiled fondly down at Martin's bare back, skin pinkening under the steady pressure of Douglas's hands. "To be honest, it was the most flattering and captivating seduction I've ever been subject to."
Martin shifted and peered up over his shoulder at Douglas again, dubious.
"You have a great deal of focus, drive and intention, oh my Captain, and finding oneself the target of all of that was quite overwhelming. Still is."
Sighing, Martin reached for the cocoa as Douglas shifted down to kneel astride his thighs and rub Martin's lower back.
After a few moments of moan-filled peace, Douglas spoke again. "You were certainly quiet this morning. I didn't even notice you getting up."
"I didn't want to wake you."
"My considerate Captain."
"As it turns out I needn't have bothered." Martin burrowed down in the blankets and blew across the surface of the fragrant cocoa before taking another sip. "I feel like a fool now, doing all that shoveling when I didn't have to."
"What you were doing was being my hero."
Martin made a rude noise into his hot chocolate before taking a big sip and returning the mug to the bedside table.
"You took it upon yourself to accomplish what you thought was a necessary but unpleasant and arduous chore to save me the trouble." Douglas knelt up and kissed the top of Martin's head. "My hero."
"Didn't have to be though." Martin grumped. "You sorted it yourself, as usual. I went out there and froze my arse off for nothing."
"Oh I wouldn't say you froze it off," Douglas's hands slid even lower on Martin's back. "It's still right here."
"It's numb."
"Well, that won't do at all." Douglas began kneading the lush yet chilled flesh of Martin's backside.
Giggling, Martin swatted in the vague direction of Douglas's hands. "We're going to need to get ready to leave in twenty minutes and we haven't even showered or had breakfast yet. Don't go starting anything we don't have time to finish."
Just then Douglas's mobile rang.
Martin groaned. "That's probably Carolyn wondering where we are. We need to get going, Douglas."
"No, there's plenty of time yet." Without getting up from his near-seated position on Martin's thighs - knowing if he moved off, Martin would use the excuse of the phone call to jump up and start getting ready to go to the airfield - Douglas reached across to pick up the phone from the bedside table.
It was Carolyn. Douglas dithered a moment before hitting receive. "Hello?"
"The flight is rescheduled to noon Friday," Carolyn said without preamble. "My drive is a block of solid ice. Arthur took Snoopadoop out this morning and they both nearly went skating into the street. My car is going nowhere."
"Ah." Douglas skilfully kept the delight from his voice at this development. "For the best I suppose. But what about-"
"The client? She was sensible and called us to reschedule, which means not only will we not lose the booking, she's paying a rescheduling fee, since we could technically fly if we had to. So we'll be getting paid extra to stay home, which is a fine belated gift from Father Christmas."
"I see." Martin wriggled under him and Douglas swung his legs off and over the edge of the bed. He swapped the mobile between his hands and reached over to give Martin's arse a fond and promising caress.
"Yes, well. Two days time, then. Stay warm."
"We intend to."
"Oh I'm certain you do," Carolyn said brusquely, but with a hint of chuckle as she disconnected.
Douglas turned back to Martin who was looking over his shoulder curiously, a look Douglas found artlessly provocative.
"Who was that?"
"Carolyn. I'm afraid the client has called and rescheduled the flight, so we shall have to find other ways of occupying ourselves today."
"Are you certain?" Martin narrowed his eyes in that was that made the bridge of his nose crinkle and made Douglas want to snog him senseless. "The weather is easing and the airfield runways will have been cleared by now, I checked earlier. We could still fly."
"Yes, Martin. While I could have used my secret Sky God powers to call down another blizzard to keep us here all day so I could have my wicked way with you, the client has rebooked." He held his mobile out so Martin could read Carolyn's name from the screen.
Outside something rumbled up to the drive. A yellow light flashed against the windows as the plow began clearing the drive.
"Ah. See? Eight-fifteen. His crew is a punctual lot."
Martin blinked at the window. "They plow your drive every single time? Without even asking?"
"The plow business picks up a few other houses and estates in the area usually." Douglas resumed rubbing Martin's lower back and began plotting how to get him out of his pants. "People see a drive being cleared and call up the number on the side to have their own done, snow in great amounts being rare and it being that sort of a neighbourhood. The plow dispatch sends the crew to stop on the way back. Practically free advertising for the business. And, as I believe I mentioned, he owes me a colossal favour."
"He would do. With you everything's colossal."
Douglas caught the heat in Martin's voice and the glint in his eye, and smirked back at the innuendo. "I take it Sir is finally beginning to warm up?"
"Oh yes, quite quite nicely." Martin curled round to lay his hand on Douglas's upper thigh and squeeze.
"Well then. Since the flight's cancelled and there's no need to rush off anywhere, I'd like to suggest getting back under the covers and finding more ways to warm up even further."
Martin hummed contemplatively, rubbing his still-cold nose against Douglas's knee, peering up at Douglas through his eyelashes.
A soft warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature spread through Douglas's chest. "I did catch a bit of chill myself after all," he said, faux-stoically, sliding down into the bed, "I stood at the door trying to convince you to come in for quite a while you know."
"Did you now?" Martin purred, pulling the duvet over them both. "We'll have to do something about that..."
After that it became a very warm morning indeed.