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Your head pounds, but the pain doesn't concern you. The man in front of you does. The fever trapped under your skin is a penance for your mistake, it doesnt have to be his.
Leon's edges are fuzzy in the dark, but you see him hunched over at the end of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed.
You know what he needs, and you know that as you are now you're too weak to give it to him.
But that doesn't mean he can't be enticed to take it.
"Baby," you murmur, voice rough and rasping in the dark, and you see the shadow of his head snap towards you so fast your cracked lips stretch into a wry grin.
You weakly move your hand around as if searching for him, and he takes your hand in his own, pleasantly calloused and warm.
You know what he needs: warmth, life, proof.
A distraction.
You brush his hair back from his face and tangle your hand in the hair at the back of his head before you kiss him, nipping at his plush bottom lip before you lick into his mouth and taste the stifled moan that rises from the back of his throat.
You keep him there until you're both panting, and you don't need any light to know the blush tinting his cheeks. While he breathes, you kiss from the corner of his lips down the line of his jaw, pressing a peck to his cheekbone before settling against his neck to suck dark marks into the skin there and just behind his ear.
You know it's working, from the heave of his ample chest, the titillating peaks of his nipples through the fabric of his tee, the knowledge that your sweet boy is so damned sensitive to your touch he can come in his pants just from kissing you-
Ah, there it is, hard against your leg. You smile as you begin to kiss back up to his mouth.
His hands fist in the fabric of your shirt as he aborts a thrust against your thigh.
"Baby, baby," he's panting, flushed, wrecked already, and god you want to take him apart, but the pain in your body rises with the blood in your brain in grim reminder. "Baby- ah, we cant- you-"
Your skin burns everywhere except where he's touching you, like you can share it with him, this heat.
"mmmh," you hum against him, trying to think through the fever haze. "It's so hot, want you to touch me." your hand slides down between the two of you to grab the bulge in his pants and squeeze, making him moan into your mouth as his hips seek friction with a mind of their own. "Wanna give my baby boy something nice."
He shudders, eyes closed and lashes wet.
He's really wetter than a girl, leaking so much into the fabric around his needy cock that the fabric is wet all the way through. It outlines him, twitching and hard, and you can feel every edge of his glans when you massage him through the fabric, thumbing the head and watching him buck into you as he makes short little noises where he hides against your throat.
"I wanna fuck you," you murmur into his ear, smiling when a shudder runs through his whole body. "but not tonight." you run a hand down his spine, letting his confusion hang in the air.
"Such a shame, isn't it?" you begin, reaching down into his open jeans just above his soaked through underwear, taking his shaft in your grip. "My baby has a nice, fat cock, so pretty and perfect," it kicks against your hand, you tighten your hold, "but he's such a little cockslut he never gets to use it for anything."
He whines into your skin, but you just slide your hand down his covered shaft to his heavy balls, fondling them best you can in their confinement.
"So I thought I'd let my baby fuck something other than his hand tonight."
Leon stills before backing up to face you. His eyes are wide and blown, his mouth red and slack jawed.
"You-"
You pull him on top of you, cut him off with a kiss you know will send him reeling. When he opens his eyes again, you're looking up at him through lidded lashes and trailing a hand over his cheek.
"Yeah," you say. "I want you to fuck me like I fuck you."
You tug playfully on the collar of his crew neck.
"Take it off."
Your thighs rest over his where he's naked between your legs while you're still clad in only your underwear.
Your soaked underwear, because your poor baby is rutting between your thighs like a bitch in heat, dribbling his precum onto both his own abdomen and the thin cotton preserving your modesty.
You watch, amused, before you drawl a low "Honey, I know this is hard for a cockslut like you, but you finger your own ass so well when I tell you to, and I really want to feel that pretty cock inside me, won't you let me reward you for being so good for me?"
He swallows, hard.
"You want to be good for me, right?"
He nods sharply, arms shaking from the force of preventing his mindless rutting.
"Good boy. I want you to stretch me now, sweet thing."
His hands are trembling when he peels away your final layer, and you sigh when you feel his calloused fingers rubbing around your perineum.
He uses a bit too much lube, dripping over your skin and coating his fingers when they enter. He's careful, watching your face eagerly for any kind of feedback, and so you indulge him. Soft sighs and moans leaving your lips like benediction, like the praise he covets so badly.
You stop him earlier than you should, but you've always been partial to pain. The burn in your skin, the ache in your abdomen of a healing wound, what is one more little pain?
"Come on," you murmur, wrist resting over the skin of your fevered brow. You hope he takes the slur of your words as pleasure and not sickness, you hope the heat makes your body that much better for him. "Fuck me."
It's an order, and he obeys.
Line of his shoulders trembling as he does, the head breaches you slow, and you let your head fall back when the widest part skates fire through your nerve endings. Heat rolls through you with every timid roll of his hips, until finally, he's flush against your flesh.
You lift your pounding head to look at him, arms stiff on either side of you as his whole body shivers, head bowed.
Your hand wraps around his forearm, and he looks down at you, utterly debauched.
"well?" you ask, low and husky.
His voice trembles just as much as the rest of him. "So hot.... and, ngh... tight..." he's almost panting, eyes fluttering from the pleasure of being inside you, and you smile with all your teeth. "Feels so good-"
"Just being in an ass is this good for you? You look like you're already about to come. Get a hold of yourself, honey. You haven't even fucked me yet."
His hips make aborted twitches, too shallow to be thrusts. His mouth is open, but no words leave him. Just the movement of his lids and the desperate carnal need to rut into the tight warmth engulfing him.
"Oh," you say, false sweet. "I get it. My poor baby is such a bottom bitch he doesn't even know how to fuck anymore, is that it? You need my help, don't you? You need to be told what to do."
You bring him closer with your heels crossed behind his back, enough so you can run your hands down his bare back, his bare ass,
"Or maybe, you need to be shown."
Your fingers delve between his cheeks, only to run over something hard and angular and metal- a plug.
Your eyes widen. He shivers in your arms, cock twitching inside of you. You curl your fingertips between the base of the plug and warm flesh, and cruelly pull it free to toss it off the bed.
"And here I was being nice," you murmur, and shove three fingers into his hole.
He moans, loud and sudden, body caught between two merciless assaults of sensation. The reactionary bending of his body brings his ear right down to your mouth. A tactical mistake.
"I've changed my mind," you tell him, fully knowing that fucking him while he fucked you was always your intent, "I'm not just going to let you get your dick wet when you've been so naughty, I'm going to make you my fucktoy for the night. I'm gonna fuck myself with you, Leon. Thank me for it."
His pretty eyes are wet with tears, and you haven't even done anything to him yet. Still, he manages a stuttered "Thank you." in response.
"Good," you tell him, running a gentle hand through his mussed hair. "Grind into me, honey, I want that pretty cock of yours to kiss my insides, the way that always has you squirming like a bitch in heat, that way that makes you beg."
He flushes, but obliges, first in a slightly stiff motion, but the pleasures of your hot and clenching walls quickly leave him mindless, nothing but need driving his messy grinding thrusts into you.
You let the tension leave your body with the feeling of him hot and hard inside you, sharing your blistering heat, small praises falling from your lips.
And then your fingers inside him move, and he thrusts so sudden and hard into you it makes your blood sing.
There are tears running down his cheek as he begins to apologize around his sounds of pleasure, but you cut him off with a harsh kiss.
"So good, baby," you tell him. "Just like that, do what my fingers do." and he nods fervently, pressing chaste kisses wherever he can.
You drive your fingers into him harder and faster, revelling in the way he follows orders, the way he sends pleasure through your spine that chases the pain away and turns the fog into a gift.
You know every inch of him, so it isn't luck that makes your nail dig sudden and harsh into his prostate, but his answering thrust is so good your fevered brain turns to nothing but white.
He's still going, when you come back, but his eyes are on yours and he's saying "Baby, baby, your nose-" and you lift a hand to feel the run of blood over your lips and down your chin, the stress of your body giving way to something more physical. You grin, and know your teeth are bloody.
You dig your nail into that spot again and watch his eyes roll up, his body stutter, the whole beautiful mess of him.
So you do it again, and again, watching the whole of him writhe and try all at once to grind further into you in attempt to escape the constant barrage of torturous pleasure to his prostate, only for the heat of you to push him further into the onslaught.
He always was most beautiful when he was desperate.
It doesn't take much longer for Leon's body to give out, his head ducking into your sweat slick shoulder as he comes with a bitten off whine, hips still grinding shoddily into you, out of nothing other than the waves of euphoria cresting throughout his body.
As overheated as you are, your stamina leaves more to be desired, and the feeling of him releasing inside you tears the reins of your battered flesh from your hands and you sigh into his hair as you shudder and spill between the two of you, panting and heaving air into your heavy lungs.
You take his head in your shaking hands, muscles burning, sensation giving way to pain as you come down from the high. His lashes are wet and lowered, his mouth bitten and red. You smile, satisfied with the state of him.
You kiss him, then, tangled together in the dark, the blood lazily dripping down your upper lip gets smeared between your mouths, you bite his bottom lip and he licks the mauve from your teeth.
You feel yourself slipping from the vestiges of consciousness, slipping numbly through your relaxing fingers, your burning muscles melting into something blurred by the pounding in your skull, you are too tired now to even move your lips.
You are home, in this bed that smells of him, and the warmth of his body is cool like a balm against your skin, and you know he will rise, and bring a wet cloth to your brow and clean up all the dirtied parts of you, and when you wake this fever will have passed, and the fibers of your body will begin to wind themselves together in just another scar among many.
Like in the field, when he would grip your shoulder and say, "Leave it with me." And you did, because he always kept his word. War breeds quick found trust in a comrade, but this was always something more.
He murmurs something into your skin, but you can't hear well enough through the fog to make it out.
You let sleep take you. You leave it with him.