Chapter Text
Morning came slow and sweet. Curly rose from the dredges of a perfect restful sleep like a gentle dream. His face was pressed into the back of Jimmy’s neck, breathing in his scent and feeling his sweat against his skin.
It was perfect.
He could feel himself stirring, he hadn’t woken with a hard on but he could already tell he was on his way to getting one. Lazily he rutted against Jimmy’s backside. Mouthing at the bruised and healing skin from where he had bitten him last night. He hadn’t meant to break skin but he couldn’t help but feel proud of doing it anyways. Hopefully it would scar. A permanent mark to claim Jimmy as his.
He couldn’t stop from smiling as he pressed his face into Jimmy’s shoulder. Giddy as his hands began to wonder. Skating over Jimmy’s heated stomach, brushing up over his practically molten chest. Moving up so he could lay gentle kisses over his face before he claimed his tongue.
Jimmy was flushed, face red and panting faintly. His brows were pinched and sweat was beading on his forehead. Curly froze, hovering over him like a predator about to pounce on its prey, gentle loving expression having gone flat and blank.
He jolted up, hovering on his hands and knees over Jimmy and pressing a hand to his forehead. He felt hot, feverishly hot. Frantically he threw himself out of the bed and made a mad dash for the bathroom.
He grabbed his first aid kit, he’d put it together himself a while ago and he knew it had everything one could need for at home emergencies. He practically tore the damn thing open when he got back to Jimmy, laying right where he had left him half covered in the blanket.
God. He was gorgeous. Rail thin, bruised and flushed. He looked like a god damn tragedy and all Curly wanted to do was save him. He got the thermometer out of the mess of his first aid kid and confirmed what he had suspected. Fever had set in sometime when they were sleeping, whether it was because of whatever drug he’s been dosed with or the vigorous activity Curly had put him through was unclear to him.
It didn’t really matter what had put Jimmy’s body into panic mode, what mattered was making sure he was okay. Jimmy’s health was important to him. Important enough to put things on hold.
He carefully removed the cuffs he put on him, rubbing Jimmy’s wrists. They were a little red from where the padded leather had been cinched around him, but Curly could tell it would be fine. A little time and air to breath and his skin would be fine. Next on his list was the buttplug he had Nestled into Jimmy after fucking him last night. He was sure to have tightened around it, but Curly wanted it out. Jimmy didn’t need anything else to focus on other than getting better.
There was a brewing guilt settling in his gut as he gently rolled Jimmy on his stomach, lifting his hips and spreading his legs. The pink plug hadn’t moved, and god it made his mouth water to look at, but that guilt kept him strong. With all intended gentleness he took hold of the pink bar and began to pull it out. He could feel as Jimmy’s muscles flexed at the pull, and Jimmy gave a low groan in his unconsciousness as it began to breach his abused whole. Curly could feel his own gut clench with arousal as he watched Jimmy’s skin go pinker than the plug he was pulling out of him. With his slow insistent tug he pulled it free of Jimmy to a soft gasp and the muscle flexing back into place.
It took everything he had not to press his face into him and absolutely devour him, unconscious or not.
But he didn’t, and though he could feel himself stiffer than a board in his sleep sweats he kept it to himself. Getting Jimmy back to laying on his side was for the best, he was still flushed and miserable looking, and worse his face was somehow red and pale. Not a good combo.
Curly got to work, within the hour he had Jimmy wiped down, and tucked back in. A wet cloth on his forehead and water and cold medication set on the bedside table next to him. He cleaned up, tucked away all the toys and lube and things that spoke of his lust and love. When Jimmy woke up he wanted him to focus on recovering and not what Curly was going to do to him.
He would have plenty of time to think about what Curly was going to do to him.
5 weeks. 35 days. A little over a month. He had time. So long as Jimmy got better.
He couldn’t even consider the idea that Jimmy wouldn’t get better.
It was almost noon, and while Curly was starving he was more worried about Jimmy. He could cook, get food made that might rouse Jimmy from his sleep. But he wanted something that would be gentle on his poor stomach. Soup maybe? He could make a classic breakfast and soup, bring both into the room and try and wake Jimmy up with the temptation of it. He doubted he had been eating much over the last week or so. Maybe just enough to keep going.
Jimmy could be such an idiot, he was terrible at taking care of himself.
It had always been like this. Jimmy somehow simultaneously thought of himself as Incapable of flaws and nothing but flaws at the same time. It was fascinating to him. To see as Jimmy warred with himself, at times so confident, while at others so unsure. His favorite was when he was both at the same time. It happened when they piloted a lot, he would make a firm decision but hold off on following through while he looked to Curly. That’s why he needed Curly.
Jimmy was as settled as he could be, and honestly Curly had too much nervous energy to just sit by his side and watch him. He would leave the door open, move off and get started on that breakfast, now lunch, that he had been thinking about.
When he woke his body felt like lead. There was pain, but it felt soothed. Like whatever had broken him down had painstakingly put him back together. He was also warm, laying on something far more comfortable than a cement wall or public bench. Which was odd, as those were the only things he had been sleeping on during his current bender. He tried to move, and could do nothing but groan as the uncomfortable feeling of a full bladder and an empty stomach and muscles used to exhaustion greeted him.
What the fuck had he done to himself?
Jimmy tried to move again, get up and find a bathroom before he pissed himself, but he was hit with a wave of dizziness as he tried to lean forward. His head felt like it was full of cotton, and a foul nausea flooded his face. He froze, trying to fight the feeling that his body was trying to turn itself inside out.
God he ached. Everything from his neck to his ass. He felt like he was a rag that had been dunked in water, rung out, and left to mold. He groaned, the nausea passing for a moment, he braved peeling his eyes open and felt like he was unsealing the air lock on the Tulpar for all the effort it took.
Curly’s ceiling hung above him.
A flash of something in his mind, Curly over him, hot heavy pleasure and fear. Heat low in his gut. Sweat and panic and something that felt so mind bendingly good.
Oh god.
He rolled over, body not wanting to cooperate. His arms ached, his legs ached, his gut felt like he had done a hundred sit ups and his head felt so god damned foggy.
That couldn’t have been real. There was no reason for Curly to want him like that. He was a piece of shit. He’d hurt Curly. Really hurt him. In what world would they end up doing that. In his dreams maybe. And he couldn’t be dreaming like that with Curly so close. He forced his body upright, he was dressed in a long sleeved shirt at least two sizes too big, and sweats he knew were Curly’s. He had to, fuck, he didn’t even know what, but it definitely involved getting out of here.
He managed to get himself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know how Curly had found him but he needed to leave before he fucked this up even further. He was nothing but poison for Curly, and it was about time he decided if he was going to ruin him or let himself rot alone.
His eyes swept the room the moment before he stood, and zeroed in on the simple glass of water and bottle of cold medicine on the side table. Right in reach. His heart stuttered as his body trembled with the effort to sit. God he hurt, his back hurt, his ass hurt, his stomach hurt.
Cold medicine had pain killers in it. Only the over the counter stuff, but it would take the edge off. He reached out to them, shaking the bottle once he grabbed it. Confirming it had a few jangling around.
“Jimmy?” Curly’s voice drifted through the open door he hadn’t noticed, and with it came the rest of his senses. He could smell bacon, eggs, something sweet. His mouth watered as his stomach clenched. There were approaching footsteps, soft thumps, then Curly was in the doorway. Bright blue eyes clearly concerned for him, and face the picture of a housewife checking in on her useless spouse.
“Curly.” Jesus Christ his voice was hoarse. He didn’t know what the fuck he did but it sounded like he gargled glass.
Of screamed for all he was worth for hours.
A shiver ran down his spine. Curly had smiled, all gentle sympathetic kindness.
“Here, let me help you.” He stepped into his personal space like he belonged there. And as Jimmy’s body did its best to smother him in fever and exhaustion he found he appreciated it. His body practically gave out as he slouched forward towards Curly, resting his head against his hip. Curly hummed, and Jimmy could hear him getting some pills from the bottle he was holding before grabbing the cup from the side table.
Fingers ran into his oddly clean hair, gently guiding him to tilt his head back. He blinked up at Curly, baffled but too tired to really think beyond Curly’s touching me to really comprehend the situation. Two pills were pressed to his lips and he opened his mouth without hesitation. They didn’t taste like anything, just a smooth weight against his tongue.
Curly cupped his jaw and brought the cup to his lips, and with a soft murmur began to tilt the contents past Jimmy’s parched lips. He drank, swallowed the pills without any problem, then drank more as Curly’s eyes locked with his.
“Good.” Heat rushed through him and he almost choked on the next mouthful of water. Curly’s thumb rubbed against his cheek before he turned and put the glass down. “Lay back down. You’re exhausted. I’ll bring you some lunch.” He nodded dumbly, letting Curly lay him back down, but he grimaced as he was reminded that his bladder was fit to burst.
“Wait,” his voice was still a rasp, “I gotta piss.” Curly blinked for a moment then smiled.
“Right, I’ll help you up.” Jimmy was not looking forward to walking, whatever train hit him had backed up twice. Curly pulled one of his arms over his shoulders, and another around his back. It was the same way he guided him when he was too drunk to walk right, but something around his fingers near his hip had him shivering again. Curly pulled him closer, then started walking without saying a word.
There was a moment as they entered the bathroom that Jimmy panicked. For a second he thought that Curly wasn’t going to leave, that he was going to snake that arm around his waist and reach down to hold his cock so he could Piss without making a mess of himself. His pulse picked up, and he found himself leaning into Curly as the thought flooded his mind.
Instead, Curly carefully got him sitting down and with a smile said, “Holler if you need anything,” and walked out. Jimmy was left baffled, more at himself than with Curly. Where that thought had come from he had no idea.
It didn’t take him long to finish up. He looked at himself in the mirror and he couldn’t help but feel startled. He looked fine. His hair looked clean for once, he didn’t have any unidentifiable stains on his skin, though he had a few serious hickies that startled him a little to see. He didn’t remember fucking anyone but it wouldn’t be the first time during one of his off weeks. He reached out to trace them, they looked pretty fresh, his hand dragged over his shoulder and his hissed at the sudden spike of throbbing pain. He grunted, slipping his hand under his borrowed shirt and grimaced as he found an open wound. It was circular, raw but not really bleeding anymore. Just a little hot to the touch and painful.
A knock on the door startled him from his personal inspection.
“You fall in?” He snatched his hand back from his shoulder, there was a bolt of anxiety in his stomach that hand him bracing himself against the sink.
“I-I’m fine!” He wasn’t. Something happened. He… he slept with someone. He hadn’t done that in years. And judging by the ache in his backside it was either a very enthusiastic woman with a strap or a man.
Fucking hell. What did he fucking do? Get drunk off his ass and find a man that looked a little like Curly and let them fuck him? He knew he was easy when he was drunk but he didn’t know he got that easy.
He stumbled towards the door but it opened before he could do more than lean on it. Curly gave him a look that screamed fond disappointment and something settled in Jimmy’s chest.
“I told you to call me if you needed anything.” He was moving forward, getting into Jimmy's space like he belonged there. It was different from usual. Usually Curly kept a friendly distance between them, he knew it made Jimmy uncomfortable when he stood close enough for him to smell Curly’s sweat. Not that that was the reason he told Curly for his discomfort.
“What? I can’t walk on my own?” He knew he couldn’t, his legs were already starting to tremble.
“Not really, no,” Curly’s hand brushed against his hip and trailed up his side, sending a cascade of shivers over his skin. “You’re stumbling all over the place. The last thing you need is a head injury.” That hand slipped around him and pulled him forward and suddenly he had a face full of Curly’s tits.
He made a sound, somewhere between a dying cat and a drowning man. Frantically he tried to right himself but all he managed to do was press his hands to Curly’s chest and holy fuck his tits were huge. He was squeezing them, they fit perfectly in his hands, this brain was fucking empty.
“Careful there Jimmy!” Curly was fucking giggling, his chest practically bouncing with it. “Honestly, what would you do without me?” Curly’s hands on his waist pushed him forward, steadying him on his feet before he simply moved around him until he was carefully helping Jimmy walk into the kitchen the same way he had for the bathroom.
There was nothing said about Jimmy copping a feel, and Jimmy was fighting for his life to get himself under control. He was flustered. Beat red and half hard, and Curly was fucking oblivious. Big idiot didn’t know what was running through his head. How much he wanted to just ruin him.
Curly set him at the small table next to his kitchen. He had one of those single story houses that was just a touch bigger than Jimmy’s own shit ass apartment. The place was pretty nice all things considered. Great location, just shy of the city, but plenty of privacy. Low crime neighborhood. He had a fucking garage. Curly owned it and rented it out when he had long haul missions. He had an agent for it and everything. He just packed up all his personal shit into a company-provided storage unit and called it good.
“How’s your stomach feeling? Think you can handle solid food or am I getting you some soup?” He stared at him for a moment, something was happening, but his stomach growled and complained and he found himself simply nodding.
“Whatever you made I want it, ‘s been driving me crazy smelling it.” Curly laughed then turned around and made him a plate like a good housewife. He set it in front of him, a glass of water and a mug of something hot coming a moment later. This wasn’t the first time Curly had made him food, but the way Curly just sat in front of him without eating was giving him an odd vibe.
He didn’t really have time to think about it once he started eating. Bacon, eggs, pancakes, an all American classic. He took a few timid bits before his body reminded him he needed food to live and suddenly he was ravenous. He scarfed down everything on the plate and it was good. Fucking incredible. A week of trash (sometimes literal) food and alcohol had left him feeling empty and strung out. He felt like he had a hangover, but with a little extra. It had been three years since he had last used, great to know that finding out that the only man he’d ever wanted was gay was enough to send him back into the bad habit.
“Jimmy,” Curly was leaning against the table, giving him a calculated look. “Do you remember last night?”