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Forgive Me When I Forget, Love Me When I Remember

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Forgive Me When I Forget, Love Me When I Remember


When Donald Strachey finally managed to drag his ass home, it was way past midnight. He hadn't expected to be driving around the city chasing one lead after another, only to return to right where he'd started. And then he'd had to actually chase the suspect, on foot, and the guy had been running like a damn athlete. Donald was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was take a shower and fall into bed and crawl under the covers with his husband.

He tried to close the door as quietly as he could, and didn't bother to put on the lights since the glow of the street lamps outside was enough to navigate by, but even as he was taking off his shoes in the dark Donald could already hear the patter of little paws as Doctor Watson sauntered downstairs to greet him. The little dog ran to him and started jumping excitedly, whining and trying to lick Donald's face.

"Yes, yes, I'm happy to see you too," he whispered, not wanting to wake his better half up with too much noise. Timothy had several big cases to handle tomorrow—no, today, actually, Donald corrected himself—and he'd be cranky if he didn't get enough sleep. Donald wriggled out of his coat and jacket, not an easy task with a happy terrier running circles around him, but once he had his hands free, he picked Doctor Watson up and let the dog lick his cheek a few times before pulling his face away.

"Now that's enough, I'm covered in sweat and dirt and even though that might be appealing to your doggy taste buds, I don't think Timmy will approve of the smell." Doctor Watson whined a little, but obeyed.

With the dog securely in his arms, Don slowly snuck upstairs and into the bedroom. He put Doctor Watson in his basket, where he luckily decided to settle down, clearly content now that both his masters were back home. Don looked over to his husband, who seemed sound asleep. Don smiled softly. Nothing better to come home to than the love of his life, sleeping safe and sound. Except maybe to find his lover awake and naked, greeting him with a passionate kiss that would lead to... Donald stopped that train of thought before it got too far, or he'd be the one with sleeping problems despite all the exercise he'd had tonight.

So instead Donald headed into the bathroom, closed the door, and then stripped off his remaining clothes, throwing them more or less in the direction of the hamper before hitting the shower. The hot water felt good, and Donald relaxed under the spray, closing his eyes and letting the heat sink into his tired muscles. All things considered, it had been a good day. He'd caught the guy, eventually, then the cops had taken him away and Donald had gotten paid for a job well done—but there was still this small, nagging feeling that he had forgotten something... Well, it couldn't be too important. Hopefully. He was too tired to care anyway.

Too focused on enjoying the pleasant shower, Donald didn't hear the door creak open, or the sound of bare feet approaching. Which is why, when Tim unexpectedly stepped into the shower with him, Donald's first reaction was reaching for a gun he didn't have and scrambling around to meet his attacker. But it only took a fraction of a second to recognise the sleepy but smiling face of his lover.

"How many times have I told you not to scare me like th—" Donald's complaint was cut short when a mouth covered his own, and subsequently stole every last remnant of coherent thought. Timothy was rarely the aggressive one, but now he kissed Donald like he meant to steal his breath too. His hands slid down on Donald's wet skin until they found their target, and despite his earlier fatigue it didn't take long for Don's body to get the hint and spring into action.

Timothy chuckled against his mouth, clearly pleased, and reached behind Donald to turn the shower off before kneeling down. The sudden disappearance of warmth made Donald shiver, but the mouth now engulfing his cock provided more than enough heat for him. Timothy hummed contentedly, his tongue doing deliciously wicked things to the prize he had caught. Donald's already weakened legs threatened to give away. He gasped when a few fingers joined his cock in Timothy's mouth, sliding in and out, getting coated in saliva in preparation of Tim's next move. He was so not going to last long. Whenever Timothy got assertive like this, it turned Donald on faster and harder than anything.

Slick fingers slid along the crease of his ass, dipping in briefly to tease his hole before returning for more lubrication—again, and again, a little deeper each time, until the anticipation was building to a point where Donald wanted to take those slender, gorgeous digits and shove them in himself. And that was exactly when Timothy let his fingers slide all the way in, aiming straight for the spot that pushed his tortured lover over the edge. Donald came so hard he felt like he was exploding over Timothy's tongue and into his mouth. He was shaking with the shock of it long after the orgasm had passed, leaning to grasp Timothy's shoulders for support.

He was still recovering, and slowly starting to have enough brain capacity to wonder what he had done to deserve this, when Timothy got up and turned the shower on again.

"Happy birthday, darling," he said softly into Donald's ear, wrapping his arms around the man as warm water began to run over Donald's back.

"Birthday?" Donald mumbled, confused. Then something clicked. "That was today? I mean yesterday?" He was willing to bet there was a well-packed, three course birthday meal in their fridge, along with a bottle of something expensive, and that Timothy had probably had a few Martinis on the couch while waiting for his forgetful husband.

"Uh-huh," Timothy replied, gently, but with a definite tone of 'I knew you'd forget, but I love you anyway'. He got some soap and started lathering it over Donald's skin.

"I'm sorry, honey," Donald said, laying his head on Timothy's shoulder. "I know you told me to come home early, but this guy I was chasing—"

"Doesn't matter," Timothy interrupted, and moved on to washing Donald's hair, tenderly massaging the shampoo in. "I'm well aware of the type of guy I'm married to, and I am not the kind of husband who would get angry over a forgotten birthday. Or two. Unless it was mine of course." Timothy smiled deviously and shoved Donald's head back into the spray and began rinsing off the shampoo. Donald quickly shut his eyes and tried not to laugh and inhale water.

"That will never happen, I swear!" Donald sputtered happily while his head was scrubbed vigorously. "I don't think I could handle you treating me any worse than this!"

"I'm just glad you're home safe," Timothy said more seriously as he pulled Donald back out of the water, looking both happy and relieved, and once again Donald was reminded of how fortunate he was, and how loved.

"Me too," Donald replied, and leaned in to kiss his husband, languidly, lovingly, and with the promise of always making up for every birthday he'd forget.

They stayed in the shower for a while longer, and one thing soon led to another. Favours needed returning after all. They didn't sleep much that night, but as cranky as Timothy was the next morning, Donald still thought was the happiest man on Earth.


~~~ End ~~~