Page 27 of Jealous Guy

I think he needs sleep more than he needs another dose of his meds, so I decide not to wake him. I’m lying awkwardly, twisted half on my back, half on my side. I’m likely squishing the hell out of him, so I roll onto my back carefully, bringing him with me. I expect him to push me away because he’s squirrely like that, but he doesn’t. He moves with me as though he’s stuck to me like Velcro. The hand on my T-shirt tightens as I settle into a comfortable position and doesn’t let go.

It’s kind of nice, to be honest.

It’s not that I’m glad he’s sick or anything like that. I’m definitely not. I’m worried about him, and I hate seeing him feel like shit. It’s just that I like hugging him, and he likes trying to get away from me. I don’t mind that he’s like that. To each their own and all that, but this is nice. It’s nice to get a really good hug from him without the struggle that usually comes with it.

Since I don’t know when I’ll get another chance like this, I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes. He’s so sick that he moans in his sleep when I do it. It’s a soft, strange little sound that’s almost sad.

I tighten my grip on him, and he does it again.

I lie as still as I can with my arms tightly around him. I don’t move a muscle. Not when my stomach growls, and not when the arm he’s lying on gets pins and needles. I don’t care what it costs me. I’m not moving until Orion is ready to wake up.

After a while, he stirs, but I don’t want to let him go yet, so I run my hand up and down his back to help him get back to sleep. Poor thing. His chills are so bad that his whole body trembles when I touch him.

12

Orion

Ican’t tell if I’m awake or asleep. If this is a fever dream or an alternate reality. Whatever it is, or wherever I am, Jordan is here too. He’s in bed with me. He’s everywhere. My face is pressed into his neck, and he smells so fucking good that this has to be a dream.

It’s a nice dream. The safest, warmest dream I’ve ever had. A dream about Jordan and me. Just the two of us in bed together for a long time. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s mushy and cozy, everything’s hazy, and I don’t ever want to wake up.

In the dream, I move closer to him, nuzzling into his neck and dragging my lips across his skin. His hand travels down my back slowly. Reassuringly. The way you touch someone when you aren’t new to being with them. When you’ve been with them for so long that you know them inside out and they know you the same way. When your secrets are shared, and the rest of the world exists on a different plane.

The dream morphs slowly. It becomes hotter than it was in gradual increments. The temperature under the covers climbs steadily. Limbs tangle together and a gear lever shifts. It stops being languid and liquid and swells into something that has its own pulse.

My hands claw at his shoulders. At his biceps. At his chest. My spine stiffens, turning to steel that travels all the way down my body and solidifies in my cock. My hips rock, riding a hot wave of muscle and bone and man-on-man closeness.

My eyes fly open the second my dick makes contact with Jordan. That did not feel like a dream. It felt real. I push myself off him and scramble away so fast I almost fall off the bed. I manage to stabilize before it happens, but light sears into my retina, branding a vivid, oversaturated image of Jordan into my consciousness.

Fuck!

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

It wasn’t a dream. He’s really here.

I jump out of the bed and backpedal until I bump into the wall. “D-did I do something wrong?” I splutter.

Jordan props himself up on one elbow, face creased in bewilderment. “No, bud, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re really sick though, and I’m taking care of you, that’s all.”

I’m not wearing my watch, so I have no idea what time it is, or what day it is, for that matter, but I look at my wrist anyway. “You have class. You should get going. You’re going to be late.”

His eyelids flutter in annoyance, and he exhales slowly. “What did I say last night?”

“Um…” I’m drawing a blank. Other than repeated accusations about my health, only one thing stands out. “That you’re Santa?”

“No, Orion. I said I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a strange, foggy day. I’m awake when I’m asleep, and I’m blurry when I’m awake. My head pounds and my body aches. Jordan doesn’t let me out of his sight. He doesn’t leave my side except when he’s fixing food for me or calling his mom to talk about me. The thermometer beeps and flashes red intermittently, and on top of all that, Jordan has decided that the only way I’ll heal is if he has his hands on me.

It’s the best and worst thing I’ve ever experienced.

It’s so close to what I want and so far away.

I should push him away like I usually do because being touched by him means something different to me than to him, but I can’t because honestly, I really don’t feel very well. I feel like complete shit. I feel the worst I can ever remember feeling, and I don’t want to be alone. I’m homesick, I hate everything, and the only thing that helps is being close to Jordan.

He’s having a field day with my lack of resistance. He’s practically moved into my room. He hasn’t gotten out of his pajamas all day and has decided that the only pillow I need in my life is his chest. It’s hard to correct him because the truth is that his chest is the only pillow I need in my life. His voice is the only thing I need to hear and the gentle rise and fall of his ribs under mine is the only thing I want to feel.

By midafternoon, he finally cracks. He’s been threatening to take me to urgent care all day, and when the thermometer beeps 102.9, he’s had enough. He makes me put on sweats and bundles me into his car with very little say in the matter. My head flops to the side as he takes a corner, and I tell him again that I don’t need to go to the doctor.