“I can manage,” he said. “And I think you’ve earned a drink.”
Veronica looked relieved. She patted Arcade on the shoulder. “Good luck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Once she left, Arcade opened a bottle of water and held it to Jake’s lips.
“Come on,” he said. “I need you to drink.”
Jake gratefully downed the full bottle with Arcade’s help. Arcade opened another, and Jake drank half of it in one long gulp. Arcade soaked one of the towels in the bucket and wrung it out. He mopped Jake’s face first, gently dabbing around his eyes and forehead before moving down to his neck and collarbone. It was hard to tell if he was bringing his patient any noticeable relief. Jake shifted and furrowed his brow, but didn’t try to push him away. Arcade had never seen him so out of it before, even when wounded or falling-down drunk. He’d never seen him as raw and testosterone-fuelled as he’d been up until a few minutes earlier, either. The stark extremes made something twist painfully in Arcade’s ribcage. He did his best to ignore it and keep going, wiping away sticky sweat and dipping the towel to cool Jake’s skin. Jake shivered again when Arcade reached his chest. Arcade noticed the goosebumps that formed across Jake’s shoulders, the damp curls of hair, the way his nipples tightened into hard points and his breathing deepened. Noticed it all, despite trying his hardest not to look.
As Arcade ministered to him, Jake revived enough to get handsy again. He was still too weak to do more than paw vaguely at Arcade’s chest and jaw and arms, though, and after a while it became more effort than it was worth to keep tugging his hands away so Arcade just let them wander, provided they didn’t head anywhere too personal. As he was wiping down Jake’s stomach, Jake moved his hips in response. His erection hadn’t abated at all. That was cause for concern. It was also cause for a considerably less professional reaction below Arcade’s belt. He tore his eyes away from the bulge that was barely covered by the sheet. He was disgusted at himself. Just because Jake’s dick was hard and his hands straying, it didn’t make it acceptable for Arcade to ogle someone who was burning alive with fever. The hyperarousal was a symptom, not an invitation.
He moved down the bed and started to wash Jake’s legs instead. That made things easier until he got to the top of his thighs and was confronted with the problem of his groin all over again. He couldn’t touch him there, not with Jake in this state. Not with Arcade himself in this state. And yet it didn’t seem right to leave him sticky with sweat and the juices of the women he’d fucked. Plus the cold water may help take the edge off his arousal.
I’m a doctor. I’m a doctor. I’m a doctor.
He dipped the cloth again and pulled the sheet away. He could feel Jake’s eyes burning into him, but he refused to look at his face. He stroked the cloth gently along Jake’s still-hard cock, careful not to allow their skin to touch. Jake moaned and bucked his hips into the contact. He reached for Arcade’s hand, but Arcade eased away from him. Jake made a sound of protest, and the moment Arcade was done he started to jerk himself instead, fingers wrapped around his shaft. His grip was too tight and his movements too clumsy on skin already raw from sex. Whatever drug had fried his brain had stripped him of any restraint. At this rate he’d keep going till he bled.
“Stop it,” Arcade urged gently. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“It already hurts,” Jake groaned. His voice was slurred. “God, it hurts so bad, I need to come.”
“Turn over,” Arcade told him. “Let me do your back.”
Jake ignored him, resisted Arcade’s efforts to move him. His breathing hitched faster.
“For the love of—” Arcade wrapped his hand around Jake’s to still it. He doused the cloth again and dabbed at Jake’s face. The last thing he needed was him working himself up into hyperventilation. “Slow down,” he insisted.
Fever (All Through the Night), 1d/1i
Veronica looked relieved. She patted Arcade on the shoulder. “Good luck. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Once she left, Arcade opened a bottle of water and held it to Jake’s lips.
“Come on,” he said. “I need you to drink.”
Jake gratefully downed the full bottle with Arcade’s help. Arcade opened another, and Jake drank half of it in one long gulp. Arcade soaked one of the towels in the bucket and wrung it out. He mopped Jake’s face first, gently dabbing around his eyes and forehead before moving down to his neck and collarbone. It was hard to tell if he was bringing his patient any noticeable relief. Jake shifted and furrowed his brow, but didn’t try to push him away. Arcade had never seen him so out of it before, even when wounded or falling-down drunk. He’d never seen him as raw and testosterone-fuelled as he’d been up until a few minutes earlier, either. The stark extremes made something twist painfully in Arcade’s ribcage. He did his best to ignore it and keep going, wiping away sticky sweat and dipping the towel to cool Jake’s skin. Jake shivered again when Arcade reached his chest. Arcade noticed the goosebumps that formed across Jake’s shoulders, the damp curls of hair, the way his nipples tightened into hard points and his breathing deepened. Noticed it all, despite trying his hardest not to look.
As Arcade ministered to him, Jake revived enough to get handsy again. He was still too weak to do more than paw vaguely at Arcade’s chest and jaw and arms, though, and after a while it became more effort than it was worth to keep tugging his hands away so Arcade just let them wander, provided they didn’t head anywhere too personal. As he was wiping down Jake’s stomach, Jake moved his hips in response. His erection hadn’t abated at all. That was cause for concern. It was also cause for a considerably less professional reaction below Arcade’s belt. He tore his eyes away from the bulge that was barely covered by the sheet. He was disgusted at himself. Just because Jake’s dick was hard and his hands straying, it didn’t make it acceptable for Arcade to ogle someone who was burning alive with fever. The hyperarousal was a symptom, not an invitation.
He moved down the bed and started to wash Jake’s legs instead. That made things easier until he got to the top of his thighs and was confronted with the problem of his groin all over again. He couldn’t touch him there, not with Jake in this state. Not with Arcade himself in this state. And yet it didn’t seem right to leave him sticky with sweat and the juices of the women he’d fucked. Plus the cold water may help take the edge off his arousal.
I’m a doctor. I’m a doctor. I’m a doctor.
He dipped the cloth again and pulled the sheet away. He could feel Jake’s eyes burning into him, but he refused to look at his face. He stroked the cloth gently along Jake’s still-hard cock, careful not to allow their skin to touch. Jake moaned and bucked his hips into the contact. He reached for Arcade’s hand, but Arcade eased away from him. Jake made a sound of protest, and the moment Arcade was done he started to jerk himself instead, fingers wrapped around his shaft. His grip was too tight and his movements too clumsy on skin already raw from sex. Whatever drug had fried his brain had stripped him of any restraint. At this rate he’d keep going till he bled.
“Stop it,” Arcade urged gently. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“It already hurts,” Jake groaned. His voice was slurred. “God, it hurts so bad, I need to come.”
“Turn over,” Arcade told him. “Let me do your back.”
Jake ignored him, resisted Arcade’s efforts to move him. His breathing hitched faster.
“For the love of—” Arcade wrapped his hand around Jake’s to still it. He doused the cloth again and dabbed at Jake’s face. The last thing he needed was him working himself up into hyperventilation. “Slow down,” he insisted.