Retriever

Mikhail stretched his arms over his head, yawning. A glance at the clock beside his bed showed that he still had another hour before it went off and he had to start getting ready for work. Burrowing back under the covers, Mikhail closed his eyes, determined to get as much sleep as he possibly could. He worked long hours at the shop, and then volunteered at the local animal shelter, so he was usually lucky to manage four hours of sleep a night during the week. On weekends, he usually made up for it by sleeping in until noon, at least.

He jumped, yanking his feet up towards his chest when they were bumped playfully by a cold, wet nose. “Dammit, Max! How many times do I have to tell you to quit stealing your way under my covers! This is why I bought you your own pet bed,” he muttered angrily, glaring across the room, where Max’s bed lay, rumpled and decidedly empty.

Max, apparently deciding that since his owner was up now, it was all right to play, stuck his head out from over the covers and crawled onto Mikhail’s chest, his tail thumping a solid rhythm against his owner’s ribs. A golden retriever, he was still a puppy, so he could curl easily on his owner’s lap, and could burrow under the covers without being detected by the man to whom the bed actually belonged.

While man and dog stared at each other, one debating whether or not to dump the dog off the bed, and the other mischievously planning to give the man wet doggy kisses, a chuckle sounded in the doorway. “Looks like somebody decided it was time for you to get up,” Lyon teased.

Forgetting the dog for a moment, Mikhail turned his head towards the door to stare in appreciation at his lover. Lyon’s long, dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail that started at the base of his neck. He’d probably braid it later, when he had to get ready for work, but for now, it flowed midway down his back, a few rampant strands floating around his pale face. Lyon never seemed to tan, no matter how long he stayed out in the sun.

Standing just over six feet, Lyon was thin and sinewy, with a natural grace that only those with a slender build and long legs could manage. Mikhail, on the other hand, stood at about five feet ten inches, and was more muscular than his lover, with wide shoulders that tapered into a trim waist and led to strong, sturdy legs. His hair was a sandy blond color, and was cropped to just below his ears.

Mikhail had never really been certain why Lyon had chosen him, over all the other men vying for his attention, but he was grateful for it every day of his life. Perhaps because of this, or maybe just because he was afraid the other man might leave him someday for someone more worthy of his love and affection, Mikhail found himself giving Lyon everything he asked for, which included a nosy, mischievous puppy from the shelter where he volunteered. Mikhail frowned, glaring down at the nuisance that was still on his chest.

Seeing his other owner, Max wriggled off of the bed and scampered over to Lyon, who bent down to scratch him behind the ears. Mikhail just scowled at the puppy that took so much of Lyon’s time and attention. Oblivious, Lyon continued to praise the dog, both hands now playing with the puppy, who nipped at him lightly. Mikhail just sighed, knowing that it was useless to be jealous of the puppy, but unable to help himself, it seemed.

Glancing up, Lyon met Mikhail’s stony face and smiled brightly. “Let me feed him really quick while you get dressed, and breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.” Sure, feed the dog first, Mikhail thought moodily, slipping out of the bed and shutting off his alarm. There was no point in going back to bed now.

Stumbling into the bathroom, Mikhail took a quick shower before shaving and dressing. When Lyon said ‘a few minutes’, he usually meant it, and unless Mikhail wanted to eat his food cold as he was running out the door, he had better hurry up and get to the kitchen.

Stepping out of the bedroom, he heard a crash, followed by a high-pitched yelp and a curse. Wincing, Mikhail hurried into the kitchen to see what had happened, and if there was anything he could do.

Rounding the corner, Mikhail froze in his tracks, staring at the tableau before him. The stove was on, but there was no pan sitting on the flames. Instead, the pan had clanged onto the floor, a few feet away from Lyon, who had his hand stuck in his mouth, apparently having burned it.

Eggs were lying on the floor, and Max was happily slurping them up, his tail wagging. From the looks of things, Mikhail guessed that the puppy had gotten under Lyon’s feet, and the other man had stepped on him, causing the yelp. The crash had probably been the pan full of eggs flying, and the cursing was because of Lyon’s burned hand.

With a sigh, Mikhail moved swiftly into the kitchen and turned on the sink water, reaching down to haul Lyon to his feet and thrusting his hand under the cold water. His lover hissed at the pain this caused, but Mikhail ignored it, leaving him to bathe his hand while he went to fetch some cream to put over the burn, and a bandage to wrap around his hand.

Mikhail returned after a moment with the necessary supplies and pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, carefully stepping over Max, who was lying contentedly on the floor, watching his owners with bright eyes. Mikhail scowled down at him; didn’t the dog realize that if it hadn’t been for him, Lyon wouldn’t be hurt right now?

“It’s not his fault,” Lyon protested quietly, and Mikhail turned his glare on the other man. Not the dog’s fault, hm? Of course not. The realization that Lyon would probably have actually apologized to the dog if he hadn’t just burned his hand on a hot stove grated on his nerves, but he swallowed the anger down. It would do him no good, and might even push the other man away, which was the last thing Mikhail wanted.

Reaching out his free hand, Mikhail gently removed Lyon’s hand from the stream of cold water, quickly assessing the damage. The burns didn’t look too severe, but Mikhail knew that he’d feel better if a doctor told him the same thing. It looked like he’d be calling off of work today to take his lover to the doctor’s.

Lyon, who always seemed to know what Mikhail was thinking, spoke quietly, hissing when Mikhail pressed the ice onto the side of his hand and held it there while he smoothed the medicine over his palm. “I really don’t think it’s that bad, Mikhail,” he insisted, but Mikhail ignored him, instead removing the ice and spreading the cream over the rest of the burn, before taking up the gauze and bandage and wrapping the other man’s hand.

Finished with that, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called into work. He explained to them that he wouldn’t be able to make it in today, as his roommate had burned himself on the stove and needed to see a doctor. Lyon scowled at him the whole time, but knew better than to speak. As far as Mikhail’s co-workers knew, the other man lived with his girlfriend. Neither Mikhail nor Lyon had ever discouraged them, and so it remained their secret.

The drive to the doctor’s office was done in silence, and the ride home was equally uncomfortable, the tension riding in the air between them. Even if Mikhail didn’t show it, he was upset that his lover was hurt, and that he hadn’t been there to prevent it somehow. Lyon knew that, but didn’t know how to convince the other man that it had just been a stupid accident, and that even if he had been in the kitchen, he might not have been able to stop what was happening.

Walking back into their shared house, Lyon tried to convince Mikhail to go back to work. “Just because I was stupid enough to step on Max, it doesn’t mean that you should have to give up your whole day for me,” he insisted. Mikhail just looked at him, obviously amused. Lyon’s persistence had no effect on him, and the other man knew it, too, because he gave up with a frustrated huff after a few minutes.

Now that Lyon had fallen silent, Mikhail grinned. “Well, since I’m taking the day off anyhow, and since you’re feeling guilty, how about you make it up me?” he purred, his eyes alight with mischief. Lyon narrowed his eyes, staring at him suspiciously. Mikhail just smiled and grabbed his uninjured hand, turning and pulling the man back into the bedroom, where the bed remained rumpled and unmade from his earlier rush to the kitchen.

Lyon frowned and moved to the bed, in an attempt to make it at least presentable, but Mikhail had other plans and slipped up behind him, tumbling them both onto the bed. He turned at the last minute, so that Lyon braced with his left hand, which wasn’t burned. Turning his head, he looked steadily at Mikhail, who didn’t bother to hide what he felt, or what he wanted.

With a smile, Lyon shifted under him, allowing Mikhail to settle on top of him more firmly. Scooting them further back on the bed, Mikhail smiled down at his lover, his eyes happy and affectionate, full of the love he felt for the other man. Lyon smiled back up at him, the same emotions showing plainly on his face.

Leaning down, Mikhail kissed Lyon, the gesture sweet and gentle. After a few seconds, he applied a little more pressure, and Lyon opened his mouth, letting Mikhail slip his tongue inside.

Pleased, Mikhail practically purred, his hands making quick work of Lyon’s button-up shirt and black dress slacks. Shoes had already been discarded right inside the front door. So that Lyon wouldn’t have to try and use his injured hand, Mikhail sat up and stripped his own clothes off as well, watching in delight as Lyon stared at his skin as it was uncovered, the lust naked on his face.

With a smirk, Mikhail leaned back down, shifting his body onto Lyon’s so that they rubbed together, eliciting a gasp from the other man. Fingers wandered, tickling across ribs before stroking firmly across a smooth chest and digging lightly into tense shoulders. He kissed Mikhail again, and the other man groaned up into his mouth.

Reaching over to the bedside table, Mikhail was about to show his lover just how much he appreciated him, when Lyon jerked upwards with a squeak of surprise, his legs drawing up and nearly throwing Mikhail to the floor.

“What the hell?” Mikhail spluttered, caught off guard as he stared down at the wide-eyed Lyon. Turning around to stare towards the end of the bed, Mikhail found himself staring at Max. He swore the puppy was smirking at him, his eyes bright and playful as his tail wagged hard, moving his whole body with it. He figured that if the humans were playing, he might as well join in the game.

Below him, Lyon chuckled, and Mikhail broke off his glare long enough to check on his lover, who appeared to have lost all interest in their previous activities. With a sigh, Mikhail slipped off the bed and reached for his pants. “No need to get dressed,” Lyon murmured behind him, and Mikhail turned to stare at him, surprised. “Max, down!” he ordered, and the puppy obediently slipped off the bed. “Out!” Lyon insisted, and the puppy left the room, his tail still wagging.

“There. Now how about shutting the door and coming back to bed, since neither of us is going to work today?” Lyon murmured behind him, his body showing his enthusiasm. Mikhail grinned and did as he was bid, closing the bed before walking back to his lover, determined to start where they had left off.

It had been a long time since they had both had time to spend with each other, he mused absently. With their jobs, they often worked long hours, and spent most of their nights just sleeping, cuddling with each other, too tired to do more than that. So perhaps Max getting in Lyon’s way had been a mixed blessing.

Grinning down at his oblivious lover, Mikhail conceded that perhaps, just perhaps, he owed Max a large bone and a new toy. And perhaps, he thought, dogs were good for something after all.