Strung by Bella Costa

pair of Kelvin's and a clean t-shirt. 
    "Shit, fuck!" his expletive echoes from the bathroom, followed by a painful sounding thump.   Shit, what now!   I race clumsily to the bathroom. 
    Oh my! The sight is both comical and pitiful at the same time.  Chayton is sort of kneeling on the shower floor with his very clingy tee shirt stuck half way over his face, both arms tangled and struggling.  I take an extra moment to admire his tightly clenching stomach muscles as he struggles with his shirt.
    "Hold still."  Obediently he stops struggling and sags.  I lean my crutch against the wall and hobble into the shower trying to stay out of the spray as much as possible.
    "Arms above your head, straight please."  I tug at the fabric trying to lift it over his head and up his arms .  Gosh, it is clingy!
    Argh !  I have managed to free his head but I am still engaged in the battle of the century, to pull the fabric up the length of his arms.  Chayton head flops against my belly, his dripping hair soaking through my t-shirt. 
    "Chayton no!  Shit!  Great!"  As soon as his hands are free, his arms wrap around my waist and to steady myself , I am forced into the full spray of the shower.  I can feel the burn of his fever scalding me through the tepid water and damp fabric of my t-shirt.  I can also feel my own body temperature mount at the view of Chayton on his knees in front of me.
    "Sorry," he grins up at me sheepishly.  "Just so tired...I need to sleep."
    "Well you can't sleep in here.  Come on.  I've made your bed."  I turn off the shower and reach for a large bath towel, wrapping it around his shoulders, resisting the urge to run my hands over them in the process.
    "Get yourself dry.  I've left you fresh boxers and a shirt on the vanity."
    Still kneeling on the shower floor, Chayton starts to rub himself off, starting with his hair and working his way down.  I grab a large bathrobe and wrap it around my wet clothes to stop the water spreading everywhere else until I can get to my room to change. 
    I am on my knees hunting for the bottle of painkillers I have dropped, when Chayton returns to the bedroom.  I flush as I notice the direction of his gaze toward my ass.  Even when they are ill, they just can't resist.
      I order him to bed sullenly.
     
    ~.~
     
    The NASA developed washing machine, takes a fair bit of figuring out, but eventually I have the complex digital settings sussed and the load of wet bedding is set to wash and dry.  I return to the bedroom and quietly clear up the empty dishes and bottles. 
    Chayton is still sleeping peacefully.  I play with a bank of light switches until the room is in darkness, save for a pool of soft light over an armchair on the far side of the room.  Perfect.  I settle into the soft leather, to read under the soft glow and sip on my hot drink.
    Every now and then, he turns and moans in his sleep but doesn't wake.
     
    ~.~
     
    I jolt awake, wincing at protesting stiff muscles.  I glance at my watch.  Two Am.  I hear Chayton muttering in his sleep.  I struggle up and wince again.  Hobbling around, the last twenty-four hours, has abused muscles not accustomed to being abused.  Finally upright, I hop the four steps to the bed.  Chayton's hair is damp and his face is covered in a fine sheen of sweat but I don't think his fever is as bad as it was earlier.  I pick up the damp towel from earlier and wipe is face softly with one end.
    His eyes fly open staring directly at mine.  In that split second, I swear he can see right into my soul.  My thoughts, my dreams, my nightmares, all laid bare for him to pick through at his will.
    I am caught in his gaze, like a wild animal caught in headlights.  I don't even notice his arms sneak out from under the covers, until two hands cup my face firmly, pulling my head down to his and his lips are on mine. 
    I can feel his fever burning through his lips, scorching mine.  His mouth teases and toys with me , a low sensual