Fever
You feel drowsy, all bunched up on the couch, sneezing. You feel miserable, and alone. You decide that it is better just to go back to sleep, which you do, with a fever. You wake in the early evening, head pounding, and nose all stuffed up. You went to bed chilling, only to wake up with a cozy quilt surrounding you, and a fire in the fireplace. Right next to you, on the table, is a fresh box of Kleenex, and a small bowl of cough drops. The good kind with REAL honey and lemon.
You can hear someone humming in the kitchen, and the faint sound of a spoon tinkling on the edges of a cup. You are suddenly propped up with some pillows, and a cool hand smoothes your forehead. A cup of steaming tea is set down on the coffee table. Strong arms lift you slightly, and the quilt is tucked around you. "Are you feeling better Love?"
You sniffle, and your eyes are streaming. Oliver leans down and kisses your forehead. He moves to kiss your lips but you cover them with the quilt. He looks at you puzzled. "I don't want you to get what I have," you explain, hoarsely.
"If I get what you have, you'll let me back in the bed with you. I'll risk it." His voice gently coaxes you back to sleep.
You stir, feeling hot and out of sorts. Suddenly, a cool cloth is placed on your forehead. A deep voice murmurs comforting sounds near your ear and you ease back to sleep again. After a while, you dream that you are in Hell being tormented by demons. The heat is awful and you can't breathe. You cry out in your sleep. Then, Oliver's familiar strong arms lift you and hold you. You feel safe, but you are still so very hot.
Not really waking up, you feel the arms carry you someplace. Suddenly, you feel icy water around your body. You open your eyes and see Oliver. He is holding you so you don't slip under the water. Your brain is too fuzzy to comprehend what is happening. You trust Oliver to look after you, but the water is so cold. You can't help but cry out a bit, and tears flow down your face. "I know Love. I know," he murmurs, "but your fever is too high." He takes a big fluffy sponge, runs it over your neck, and shoulders, then rings out the water so it cascades down your back.
You can't ever remember being this sick. You let it go too long, trying to be a "big girl". It was hard to admit that you needed help. Oliver was quietly watching you all the time as you slowly started to breakdown physically. He noticed the slowed reaction time, the wracking cough, the slight wheeze when you moved too fast. As always, you pushed yourself too hard. Didn't eat properly, didn't sleep enough and just kept going. Never even noticed it.
Yesterday, you just felt so bad you could not get up. You called Oliver to say that you could not make the meeting you had with him. Hours later you were still in bed and feeling like you had been hit by a truck. You could barely get to the bathroom and back. And you felt faint the entire time.
That is when Oliver arrived. He brought with him an arsenal of cold goodies. He came over when you were most vulnerable, and couldn't say no; when you were asleep. You try to remember to find out how the hell he was able to break into your home. In any case, you were pleased, in a drugged sort of way, to see him. In fact, you were so sick that the thought that the man who has been giving you sexually tense nights of little sleep was seeing you when you must look horrible, didn't bother you at all; well maybe a little.
You slip in and out of consciousness, aware of only flashes of feeling, Oliver's hands on your skin as he lifts you from the bath and towels you off. You are weak, but your mind is no longer clouded. He lays you on the bed and rubs your aching muscles, head to foot, with an herbal oil mix of eucalyptus and mint. You always forget that Oliver is good with his hands, whether it's picking a lock, or going up your leg. His hands are always moving, pinching, and caressing you. He flips you gently on your back and moves his hands gently over your body. That oil mix calms and relaxes you. He even puts some eucalyptus oil in a bowl of hot water to help you breathe.
You feel a delicious lethargy as your cold slips away and your mind tells you it's time to sleep. You dream that you are floating on a lake and Oliver is swimming to get you. He goes under the surface and never emerges. "Oliver!!" you scream, waking yourself once more
"Oh Love, your fever is high again." Strong arms are around you. It is night, and Oliver's cool body is next to yours. "Time for medicine." You cringe as he reaches over for the nasty tasting stuff.
However, and you are not sure it isn't the fever, you are rewarded by the sight of his backside partially hidden under the covers. You realize that he is without his clothes. "Love, I may have to throw you in the shower tonight, and I don't want to get my clothes wet," he says, reading your mind.
After taking the concoction, you return to Oliver's embrace. He kisses your forehead. You return the kiss on his neck. He kisses your cheek and you nip his shoulder. You move closer and closer, wiggling your hips against him in invitation. Wrapping your leg around his, you get your intention across. "Darling, I thought you were sick?" He says teasingly, rubbing your stomach lightly as mischief dances in his green eyes.
'Not too sick,' you think, as your hand rests on his erection. The "heat" of the moment catches you both. He enters you, feeling how hot you are. As your excitement builds, you both get hotter, until the fever of your passion breaks your fever. You melt into a sweet, calm, restful sleep in his arms.
|
|
| The character of Oliver Sampson and the show VR.5 were created by John Sacret Young and are © Samoset Productions and Rysher Entertainment. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |