Fic! Saiyuki PWP, 58, ~1500 words
Jun. 15th, 2005 09:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
new_kateTitle: Nursing
Author: Newkate
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: 58
Warning: PWP, m/m, sick sex. As in, 8 caught a cold.
Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hibem for a great beta! *hugs*
Hakkai’s fingers slipped on the battered cover, and the book fell on the floor with a too-soft thump, landing open, face-down, creasing fragile yellowed pages. Leaning over to pick it up felt like too much work – he couldn’t read anymore anyway, his eyeballs were dry and burning, even while the rest of him was so cold, drenched in sticky sweat. The fever was rising again, making him even weaker, distorting the world in front and behind his eyes, making the ache in his joints and bones feel like a real pain, the goosebumps running over his skin in waves – like a touch of icy claws. When he lowered his eyelids, they were painted with red and yellow on the inside, dancing flames, scorching the last of the moisture from his body.
Sleep didn’t seem like a good idea.
He pushed the damp blanket away and tried to get up, but the floor slid from under his feet, almost tripped him up, left him clutching to the headboard and sweating even more than before. The rational part of his mind knew the air around him was only marginally cooler than his skin, but he still was chilled to the bone by it, overcome with uncontrollable shivers. His lungs felt raw and swollen, and every intake of this harsh, cold air was freezing him further from the inside.
Nice, hot cup of tea. Yes.
He let go of the headboard, plotted the course to the kitchen door and halfway to his goal collided with a moving obstacle.
“What the hell are you doing out of the bed again?” demanded Gojyo, catching him into an uncompromising bear hug and dragging him toward the bed. “That’s why you aren’t getting better, you know.”
“I was thirsty,” sulked Hakkai, falling back into the damp, stinky sheets, vindictively taking Gojyo down with him, “And cold.”
And bored. And lonely. But that was just childish and went unsaid.
“Why didn’t you call me? If you need anything, just ask, for fuck’s sake!” said Gojyo, clumsily wrapping him up in the covers, tucking the ends of the blanket all around him so he was trapped there, like a huge feverish caterpillar in a messy cocoon.
Hakkai didn’t really like asking for favours, not when manipulating, guilt-tripping and outright bullying did the job marvellously. He owed his friends far too much as it was, it wasn’t right to ask for more. He was well aware of the irony, but it all made sense if you knew exactly which way to bend the logic.
Gojyo sighed, shook his head, tugged the blankets tighter around him:
“How do I keep you in bed? Do I have to sit on you all day to make sure you’re not running around with this fever?”
“Sounds like a strategy worth trying,” said Hakkai hopefully. Gojyo felt so delightfully warm, comfortingly heavy, with the scent of fresh spring breeze in his hair, a sweet sparkle in his eyes. “Unless, of course, you have something else to do.”
Gojyo smiled and snuggled up closer. His hair was too bright, too painful to look at, but the gorgeous colour was worth it.
“Well. Let me get you that drink and maybe another blanket…”
“No,” Hakkai finally got one arm free of the blanket snare, wound his fingers in Gojyo’s fiery locks. Even his hair was warm, pleasant to the touch. “Stay, please.”
“Just wanna make you comfortable…”
Hakkai sighed, not about to explain that making him truly comfortable would include changing the bedsheets, tidying the room, cleaning the kitchen, taking out the garbage, doing the laundry and washing the window. As long as he was forced to lie motionless in the middle of this mess, he could never truly relax, but Gojyo, a slob extraordinaire, could not possibly appreciate that.
Gojyo was a terrible nursemaid: inattentive, awkward, unskilled. But he meant well, he truly cared and he was there – and that was better than having a whole staff of doctors and nurses catering to your every whim as far as Hakkai was concerned.
They ended up together under the blankets, Gojyo on top, obviously determined to bodily restrain him from getting up again. Hakkai wasn’t cold anymore – Gojyo’s skin radiated strong, healthy, real warmth, nothing like the traitorous, fake heat of his own sick body. He felt much better; in fact, he felt surprisingly good.
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully, “You could do something to wear me out and help me sleep.”
“Oh, I could, man, believe me, I could,” giggled Gojyo into his shoulder. “It’s a shame you’re not up for it though.”
As a way of answering, Hakkai twisted a little and humped upwards, not all the way “up” yet, but definitely interested. It was hard not to be, despite the illness, with six feet of Gojyo sprawled all over you - bright hair spilled loose, long arms naked and wandering, huge shameless grin on his gorgeous face. And if it meant keeping him here in bed for a while longer, well, a perfect crime…
“Yeah? Is it all right? Will it not be – you know, bad, with the fever and everything?”
But he was stripping off Hakkai’s nightshirt even as he spoke, and that felt wonderful: being free from dirty clothes, letting the weak draft from the door and the ends of Gojyo’s hair caress damp skin. The fever that’s been climbing up for hours finally crested, and suddenly Hakkai was very, very hot, burning, boiling inside.
Gasping for the air – there was not enough of it around, nothing at all to breathe in – Hakkai threw the blanket down and pressed closer to Gojyo, wonderfully cool, smooth and solid Gojyo, buried his painfully throbbing face in the waterfall of glossy hair, arched into the caress of soothingly chilly palms. Gojyo’s kisses were like drops of summer rain, refreshing, sweet, light.
“You’re so hot,” Gojyo pressed a hand against Hakkai’s forehead, and that was pure bliss for a second, but the heat kept rising, no longer held back by the gentle touch.
“Why thank you, Gojyo. Well, come on…”
“You always have to rush, don’t you? Just wait, let me make it good. Let me…”
But Hakkai’s overheated skin was too tender, too sensitive, and the burning inside him was close to unbearable by now, fuelling his desire in some sick, wrong way, sharpening it to an unhealthy itch that was almost making him scream. He pulled on Gojyo’s hair, too far gone for words, and cried out with relief when his stupid, hot, jerking cock finally slid inside the moist, cool haven of Gojyo’s beautiful mouth. That was just right, that was perfect, being held and caressed like that, being looked after, being sick and useless and still cared for – and loved – so much…
His whole body was fighting against the orgasm, abruptly overcome with weakness, reminding him how tired, ill, dehydrated he really was, but he ignored all that and thrust deeper, deeper, only dimply aware that Gojyo was laughing and choking at the same time, still licking and sucking and rubbing sweet spots with his cold fingertips. The completion was so close yet it kept escaping him, and he moaned in frustration, despairing, but Gojyo was still working him, his tongue, his mouth, his hands were still there, right there, right where he needed them, and here, at last…
Hakkai fell back on the pillow, thinking he should at least ask Gojyo not to swallow: if the disease was in his blood, then it was surely also in his – oh, but it was too late now anyway. Gojyo’s face was back in his field of vision, happy, flushed and smug, long agile tongue catching whitish drops from the lips.
“Better?”
He was. He had a faint headache and his throat was sorer although he didn’t remember screaming, but other than that, he felt incredibly well, filled with light, crisp, clear sensation of not being in pain anymore, after so long, after it became familiar like a bad habit.
“My fever broke,” said Hakkai, incredulous. “Thank you, Gojyo.”
“Oh, good! Now you just rest, and soon you’ll be good as new.”
Hakkai considered trying to fall asleep again. His body demanded rest loud and clear, and he knew he should give Gojyo a break from nursing duties, let his friend take a walk, go to one of those noisy places he liked. Spend this lovely hard-on the way he wanted. Hakkai shifted a little, barely able to feel Gojyo’s cock nudging him through layers of clothes and blankets.
“I will,” he said. “Before you go, would you clean up your mess?”
“That’s your mess, actually,” noted Gojyo, probably taking offence at his cold tone. He picked up discarded nightshirt and began wiping semen and sweat from Hakkai’s skin.
“Yes, but it’s your fault,” said Hakkai, melting a little under the gentle ministrations.
“Yes, but that was your idea,” Gojyo was smiling again, his hand coming up to circle Hakkai’s nipples more persistently than hygiene demanded.
“Well, it was, I suppose,” sighed Hakkai, penitence personified. “But if you have any ideas of your own…”
“Aw, come on, Hakkai, you’re sick! What do you think I am, some kind of sex-crazed weirdo with uncontrollable urges?”
“No,” said Hakkai, pushing Gojyo’s hands lower. “That’s – that’s definitely not you.”
Author: Newkate
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: 58
Warning: PWP, m/m, sick sex. As in, 8 caught a cold.
Notes: Many thanks to
hibem for a great beta! *hugs*Hakkai’s fingers slipped on the battered cover, and the book fell on the floor with a too-soft thump, landing open, face-down, creasing fragile yellowed pages. Leaning over to pick it up felt like too much work – he couldn’t read anymore anyway, his eyeballs were dry and burning, even while the rest of him was so cold, drenched in sticky sweat. The fever was rising again, making him even weaker, distorting the world in front and behind his eyes, making the ache in his joints and bones feel like a real pain, the goosebumps running over his skin in waves – like a touch of icy claws. When he lowered his eyelids, they were painted with red and yellow on the inside, dancing flames, scorching the last of the moisture from his body.
Sleep didn’t seem like a good idea.
He pushed the damp blanket away and tried to get up, but the floor slid from under his feet, almost tripped him up, left him clutching to the headboard and sweating even more than before. The rational part of his mind knew the air around him was only marginally cooler than his skin, but he still was chilled to the bone by it, overcome with uncontrollable shivers. His lungs felt raw and swollen, and every intake of this harsh, cold air was freezing him further from the inside.
Nice, hot cup of tea. Yes.
He let go of the headboard, plotted the course to the kitchen door and halfway to his goal collided with a moving obstacle.
“What the hell are you doing out of the bed again?” demanded Gojyo, catching him into an uncompromising bear hug and dragging him toward the bed. “That’s why you aren’t getting better, you know.”
“I was thirsty,” sulked Hakkai, falling back into the damp, stinky sheets, vindictively taking Gojyo down with him, “And cold.”
And bored. And lonely. But that was just childish and went unsaid.
“Why didn’t you call me? If you need anything, just ask, for fuck’s sake!” said Gojyo, clumsily wrapping him up in the covers, tucking the ends of the blanket all around him so he was trapped there, like a huge feverish caterpillar in a messy cocoon.
Hakkai didn’t really like asking for favours, not when manipulating, guilt-tripping and outright bullying did the job marvellously. He owed his friends far too much as it was, it wasn’t right to ask for more. He was well aware of the irony, but it all made sense if you knew exactly which way to bend the logic.
Gojyo sighed, shook his head, tugged the blankets tighter around him:
“How do I keep you in bed? Do I have to sit on you all day to make sure you’re not running around with this fever?”
“Sounds like a strategy worth trying,” said Hakkai hopefully. Gojyo felt so delightfully warm, comfortingly heavy, with the scent of fresh spring breeze in his hair, a sweet sparkle in his eyes. “Unless, of course, you have something else to do.”
Gojyo smiled and snuggled up closer. His hair was too bright, too painful to look at, but the gorgeous colour was worth it.
“Well. Let me get you that drink and maybe another blanket…”
“No,” Hakkai finally got one arm free of the blanket snare, wound his fingers in Gojyo’s fiery locks. Even his hair was warm, pleasant to the touch. “Stay, please.”
“Just wanna make you comfortable…”
Hakkai sighed, not about to explain that making him truly comfortable would include changing the bedsheets, tidying the room, cleaning the kitchen, taking out the garbage, doing the laundry and washing the window. As long as he was forced to lie motionless in the middle of this mess, he could never truly relax, but Gojyo, a slob extraordinaire, could not possibly appreciate that.
Gojyo was a terrible nursemaid: inattentive, awkward, unskilled. But he meant well, he truly cared and he was there – and that was better than having a whole staff of doctors and nurses catering to your every whim as far as Hakkai was concerned.
They ended up together under the blankets, Gojyo on top, obviously determined to bodily restrain him from getting up again. Hakkai wasn’t cold anymore – Gojyo’s skin radiated strong, healthy, real warmth, nothing like the traitorous, fake heat of his own sick body. He felt much better; in fact, he felt surprisingly good.
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully, “You could do something to wear me out and help me sleep.”
“Oh, I could, man, believe me, I could,” giggled Gojyo into his shoulder. “It’s a shame you’re not up for it though.”
As a way of answering, Hakkai twisted a little and humped upwards, not all the way “up” yet, but definitely interested. It was hard not to be, despite the illness, with six feet of Gojyo sprawled all over you - bright hair spilled loose, long arms naked and wandering, huge shameless grin on his gorgeous face. And if it meant keeping him here in bed for a while longer, well, a perfect crime…
“Yeah? Is it all right? Will it not be – you know, bad, with the fever and everything?”
But he was stripping off Hakkai’s nightshirt even as he spoke, and that felt wonderful: being free from dirty clothes, letting the weak draft from the door and the ends of Gojyo’s hair caress damp skin. The fever that’s been climbing up for hours finally crested, and suddenly Hakkai was very, very hot, burning, boiling inside.
Gasping for the air – there was not enough of it around, nothing at all to breathe in – Hakkai threw the blanket down and pressed closer to Gojyo, wonderfully cool, smooth and solid Gojyo, buried his painfully throbbing face in the waterfall of glossy hair, arched into the caress of soothingly chilly palms. Gojyo’s kisses were like drops of summer rain, refreshing, sweet, light.
“You’re so hot,” Gojyo pressed a hand against Hakkai’s forehead, and that was pure bliss for a second, but the heat kept rising, no longer held back by the gentle touch.
“Why thank you, Gojyo. Well, come on…”
“You always have to rush, don’t you? Just wait, let me make it good. Let me…”
But Hakkai’s overheated skin was too tender, too sensitive, and the burning inside him was close to unbearable by now, fuelling his desire in some sick, wrong way, sharpening it to an unhealthy itch that was almost making him scream. He pulled on Gojyo’s hair, too far gone for words, and cried out with relief when his stupid, hot, jerking cock finally slid inside the moist, cool haven of Gojyo’s beautiful mouth. That was just right, that was perfect, being held and caressed like that, being looked after, being sick and useless and still cared for – and loved – so much…
His whole body was fighting against the orgasm, abruptly overcome with weakness, reminding him how tired, ill, dehydrated he really was, but he ignored all that and thrust deeper, deeper, only dimply aware that Gojyo was laughing and choking at the same time, still licking and sucking and rubbing sweet spots with his cold fingertips. The completion was so close yet it kept escaping him, and he moaned in frustration, despairing, but Gojyo was still working him, his tongue, his mouth, his hands were still there, right there, right where he needed them, and here, at last…
Hakkai fell back on the pillow, thinking he should at least ask Gojyo not to swallow: if the disease was in his blood, then it was surely also in his – oh, but it was too late now anyway. Gojyo’s face was back in his field of vision, happy, flushed and smug, long agile tongue catching whitish drops from the lips.
“Better?”
He was. He had a faint headache and his throat was sorer although he didn’t remember screaming, but other than that, he felt incredibly well, filled with light, crisp, clear sensation of not being in pain anymore, after so long, after it became familiar like a bad habit.
“My fever broke,” said Hakkai, incredulous. “Thank you, Gojyo.”
“Oh, good! Now you just rest, and soon you’ll be good as new.”
Hakkai considered trying to fall asleep again. His body demanded rest loud and clear, and he knew he should give Gojyo a break from nursing duties, let his friend take a walk, go to one of those noisy places he liked. Spend this lovely hard-on the way he wanted. Hakkai shifted a little, barely able to feel Gojyo’s cock nudging him through layers of clothes and blankets.
“I will,” he said. “Before you go, would you clean up your mess?”
“That’s your mess, actually,” noted Gojyo, probably taking offence at his cold tone. He picked up discarded nightshirt and began wiping semen and sweat from Hakkai’s skin.
“Yes, but it’s your fault,” said Hakkai, melting a little under the gentle ministrations.
“Yes, but that was your idea,” Gojyo was smiling again, his hand coming up to circle Hakkai’s nipples more persistently than hygiene demanded.
“Well, it was, I suppose,” sighed Hakkai, penitence personified. “But if you have any ideas of your own…”
“Aw, come on, Hakkai, you’re sick! What do you think I am, some kind of sex-crazed weirdo with uncontrollable urges?”
“No,” said Hakkai, pushing Gojyo’s hands lower. “That’s – that’s definitely not you.”
