The snow was a white wall against the windows, and the fire in the hearth was a steady, rhythmic snap-pop in the quiet room.

Julian lay face-down across Samuel's knees, his mind a haze of fever and the grounding, heavy safety of the man's touch.

Samuel's hand was broad. Every time his palm smoothed over Julian's hair, a wave of security followed. It was an addictive sensation.

Julian found himself leaning into it, nuzzling into Samuel's palm like a cat demanding an encore.

He didn't just want the touch. He wanted the man.

Julian shifted, tucking his body into the curve of Samuel's chest. He felt the man go rigid for a heartbeat before Samuel's arms came around him, a protective circle that felt like a cage Julian never wanted to leave.

Mortification flickered in his gut, but it was drowned by a deep, silken satisfaction. He let go of his logic and let his instincts take the wheel.

He loved Samuel Frost.

It wasn't a search for a parental substitute. It wasn't the lingering hero-worship of an analyst for his MD. It was a man wanting another man—the kind of love that ended in a shared bed and a shared life.

But he couldn't be sure if Samuel felt the same.

Fever made a man's resolve thin. Julian didn't want to dig for answers that might break his heart; he just wanted to use his illness as an excuse to hide in this embrace for a few more seconds.

Terrified of a rejection, Julian's breath hitched. But as he shifted his weight, Samuel only drew him closer. They tumbled together onto the narrow, European single bed.

Samuel stayed unnaturally still, but his internal rhythm was a riot. Julian was soft, malleable, hiding in his arms with a shy vulnerability that triggered every protective instinct Samuel possessed.

Slowly, the rhythm of the comfort changed.

As the pain from the injection faded, a restless, creeping heat took its place.

"I... I'm fine now. You can let go." Julian's voice was a frantic whisper. He tried to push away before the atmosphere could ferment further, but he had forgotten how narrow the mattress was. He rolled back and began to slip.

"Careful."

Samuel lunged to catch him. Julian's body slammed back against Samuel's chest, the impact heavy and direct.

Samuel went dead still. He looked down, his gaze landing on the point of contact.

Samuel's eyes widened. "Julian... you..."

Julian's brain short-circuited.

"AHHH! Don't you dare say it!"

Julian exploded into a frenzy of embarrassment, his hand flying up to clamp over Samuel's mouth.

"Fine. I won't say it. I didn't see a thing." Samuel caught Julian's wrists, a rare, genuine amusement brightening the cold depths of his eyes.

Julian wanted to sink into the floorboards. He was burning up with a fever, and yet that was happening?

"Stop it," Julian hissed, his face a violent shade of red. "It's your fault!"

"Alright," Samuel murmured. "My fault."

He could have pushed. He could have teased the boy until Julian had nowhere left to hide. But Julian was fragile, and the age gap between them demanded a certain level of restraint. Samuel took a long, steadying breath and squeezed Julian's shoulder.

"Don't think about it. Sleep."

Julian wanted to. His head felt like it was filled with lead, and his limbs were useless. But every time he closed his eyes, the memory of that "touch" flashed behind his eyelids.

"Can you sing to me?" Julian asked after a long silence.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Anything."

The room fell quiet for a moment. Then, Samuel began. His baritone was low and gravelly, a fortress of sound that filtered out the mountain wind.

"Sleep, sleep, my darling babe. Mother's arms are a shield for you..." "Sleep, sleep, my darling babe. Father's arms will protect you..." "All the world's blessings, all the world's warmth, they belong to you..."

Julian felt himself sinking into the safety of the song. His consciousness was a blurred, drifting thing.

"Do you... do you treat everyone like this?" Julian murmured. He wasn't sure if he was talking in his sleep or if he had actually found the courage to ask.

The song died. The silence of the snowfall became deafening. The firelight flickered, throwing long shadows across Samuel's face. Julian instantly regretted the question, his mind racing to find a pathetic excuse or a way to pretend he was dreaming.

"No," Samuel said. The word was heavy with an absolute, surgical sincerity.

He looked down into Julian's watery eyes. "Julian. I only do this for you."

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Julian woke up in Samuel 's arms.

The fever had broken, leaving him light and clear-headed. The chalet was warm again; the power lines must have been repaired.,

The fire was still crackling in the hearth. Samuel was seated at a nearby table, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the morning light. He wore nothing but a thin white shirt, the fabric stretching over his frame as he worked.

Outside, the blizzard had died. A brilliant gold sun spilled across the blue Swiss sky, catching the sharp architecture of Samuel's profile.

Julian watched him, mesmerized.

Every line of the man—from his brows to the set of his jaw—seemed precision-engineered to Julian's taste. Even the steady, rhythmic movement of his hands over the keyboard was a provocation.,

Julian's mind flashed back to the delirium of the night before: those hands wiping the sweat from his skin, changing his damp towels, and peeling him out of his soaked pajamas.

He didn't realize he was staring until Samuel looked up. Their eyes locked.

Julian ducked under the duvet instantly, heart hammering. He wasn't sure why he was hiding, but the air in the room had suddenly turned thick and difficult to breathe.

He stayed under the covers, surrounded by the lingering scent of salt and expensive soap that Samuel had left on the pillows.,

"Fever gone?" A large hand pressed firmly against the crown of his head through the quilt.

Julian murmured an affirmative, his voice muffled.

"Hot water is back," Samuel said, the mattress shifting as he stood. "Go shower."

Julian didn't need a second invitation. He bolted for the bathroom, eager for the sanctuary of the steam.

Julian stayed under the spray until his skin was pink.

It wasn't until he turned off the water that Julian realized he'd forgotten to bring fresh clothes.

He'd already tossed his old pajamas into the hamper, and his bone-deep need for cleanliness wouldn't let him touch them again.

He hesitated for a heartbeat before wrapping a towel around his waist and dashing out into the main room. His legs were pale and straight against the dark wood of the floor as he scanned the area like a cornered animal.

Samuel stopped working, his gaze tracking Julian's frantic movements. "Looking for something?"