Doctor's Orders
ATF Universe
Chris crept quietly into the bedroom expecting to find Buck tucked up in bed, fast asleep. But the bed and the room were empty.
"Goddamn that man to hell," Chris yelled and charged out in search of his errant lover.
Buck was sitting on the couch in the den, listlessly flicking through the T.V. channels, Although he had a pair of old pajama bottoms on, his feet and his chest were bare.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing out of bed again?" Chris shouted. Buck looked up, startled, a slightly guilty expression on his handsome face.
"I couldn't sleep, Chris," he whined. "I'm bored. I've been in bed for days and I'm fed up with it.
"But you'll catch your death of cold sitting there like that," Chris yelled. "Don't you even have enough sense to wrap a blanket around yourself?"
"I'm not cold," Buck said, grumpily. "I'm boiling hot. Don't need no fucking blanket."
Chris looked at his partner more closely and noticed that Buck's face was flushed. The room was pretty cold, undressed as he was, Buck should have been shivering. Chris stepped closer and laid the back of his hand across his partner's forehead.
"No wonder you're not cold, you stupid bastard. Your fever has spiked again. Get yer ass off that couch and get back into bed. I'll fetch you a glass of water and some aspirin. Go on. Scoot."
"Don't wanna," Buck said, a wholly uncharacteristic sulleness coloring his voice.
"Buck!" Chris' voice held a warning that his partner would have recognized if he was in top form. But Buck was worn down by a recent illness that had kept him cooped up in the house for several days, and he didn't heed the warning.
"Not going back to bed," Buck said, sounding like a petulant child. "I wanna drink." And rising shakily to his feet, he pushed past Chris and into the kitchen, hissing as his feet hit the cold tiles.
Now Chris Larabee was not a man renowned for his patience, but when Buck had fallen ill he had tried. God, how hard he had tried.
So when he'd found Buck out of bed the first time, eating a baloney sandwich and washing it down with a beer, despite the fact that he was on a clear liquid only regime, he had gently lead Buck back to bed, then held his head and rubbed soothing circles into his back an hour later when Buck had thrown up the contents of his overtaxed stomach all over the bathroom floor.
And when Buck had clamped his lips together and adamantly refused to take the medicine prescribed because "it tastes like seven kinds of shit", Chris had dug down deep and wheedled, and cajoled and, God help him, had finally begged Buck to open his mouth for him.
And when Buck spluttered after only one mouthful and spat the rest out, covering himself and Chris in sticky goo, Chris had resolutely bitten his tongue and re-measured the dose. Then he had wheedled, cajoled and begged all over again until Buck opened his mouth once more. He had found a fresh pair of pajamas for Buck and some clean clothes for himself and had resettled his partner, all with barely a cross word.
Then there were the 101 times after that Chris had caught Buck out of bed because he needed a glass of water, or had to go to the bathroom, or wanted a book to read, and on and on until Chris had just about reached the end of his rope.
But this was the last straw. Jerking Chris around was one thing. But this time Buck's stubbornness had caused his fever to return and Chris had exhausted what little patience he once had. So when Buck reached for a bottle of water and his too-loose pajama pants slid halfway down his hips, Chris saw a way to impress upon his lover the seriousness of his situation.
Swiftly pushing Buck face down over the kitchen counter, he jerked the man's pajamas down until they fell on the ground to pool around his ankles. Buck struggled weakly to get up but he had been taken by surprise and he was as weak as a kitten.
"Chris, what the hell are you doing?" Buck yelled.
"What I should have done a long time ago," Chris replied, grimly. Then he proceeded to rain stinging slaps across Buck's ass, quickly finding a rhythm and not stopping until the man's backside was hot and red and Buck was gasping for breath.
Pausing for a moment, Chris leaned over his lover and growled, "You ready to behave now? You gonna to do as you're told?"
Buck tried to squirm out of Chris' grasp, shouting, "You bastard. I'm gonna..."
Whatever the rest of the threat was going to be, Chris never found out. He returned to his task with gusto, laying harder smacks across Buck's butt and thighs until the man finally yelled out, "Okay!"
Chris stopped and pulled Buck upright. The man's breath was coming in hard gasps and his face was as red as his ass. Chris hugged him in close. Buck lay his head on Chris' shoulder and nuzzled into his neck, sniffing noisily. "Shhhh. It's over. You're okay," Chris soothed. He stroked one hand through his lover's hair, while the other hand gently rubbed over Buck's sore, hot ass.
Buck clung to him tightly for a moment, trying to regain his composure. Finally he raised his head. "That really bloody hurt," he whimpered.
"It was supposed to, love. It's meant to teach you a lesson." Chris had to fight hard to stop himself laughing out loud at Buck's pitiful expression. "I promised you last time that I'd tan your ass for you if I found you out of bed again."
"But I didn't think you meant it!" Buck wailed.
"Don't I always keep my promises, love?" Chris grinned. "Now, you can go back into the den and lie on the couch and watch some T.V. But you have to bundle up in a blanket. Or you can go on back to bed and I'll give you something to help you sleep."
"Not more medicine?" Buck asked suspiciously.
"I was thinking of something to help you relax a little," Chris said and pulled Buck's head down to whisper into his ear.
"I wanna go back to bed," Buck said, decisively, and this time Chris did laugh out loud.
One earth-shattering blow-job later and Buck had settled down nicely. Chris was pressed up tightly against his back and leaned to murmur into his ear, "Think you can sleep now, stud?"
"Mmmm." Buck burrowed deeper into the warm sheets.
Chris let his hand drift across Buck's still-warm backside, making the other man flinch a little.
"Cos if you get up again without permission I promise I won't use my hand next time. I've got a nice thick belt with your name on it. And if you think yer ass is sore now..."
Buck threw a startled look over his shoulder. "You wouldn't?" he asked warily.
"Don't I always keep my promises, darlin?. Remember that next time you feel like disobeying the doctor's orders." And with a parting kiss on Buck's forehead, and a final stinging slap across his lover's tender backside, Chris slid out of bed and sauntered off to enjoy what promised to be a peaceful, Buck-free afternoon.
The End
*Author is deceased