“You need to get up so I can change these sheets, Squirt.”
Sway buried his steaming, sweaty face farther into the pillow, the covers pulled up tight to his throat. Why did they keep pestering him? He didn’t care about the sheets. Washing them or changing them wasn’t going to make them feel any better. He still felt as if he was sleeping on Fred Flintstone’s bed. Or was it his body that felt like one hard slab of stone?
“Leave me alone. I just wanna sleep,” Sway whined. He sounded so pathetic, but he didn’t care.
“Those nasty germs will just keep recirculating if you don’t kill them, shuga’. Come on, I’ll be quick, I swear.” Tweetie stood by his bed, holding a fresh pile of linen.
“You don’t have to take care of me. Just make sure Mom is good.” Sway hurt so much, even his voice hurt. He sighed and continued, “Just let me sleep, please.”
“No. And you stink like all-to-be damned. You go shower and I’ll change the sheets and Lysol everything.” Tweetie turned in a circle and mumbled, “Or fumigate.”
Sway’s head protested him saying another word. How was he going to go in the bathroom and shower when he could barely lift his head? He’d given up long ago trying to make it to the bathroom to throw up, instead using his wastebasket. Then he’d have to slowly drag his ass to clean it up since he kept refusing to let his mom or Tweetie help. He couldn’t fathom infecting his mother and preventing her from getting her much-needed corticosteroid injection. Besides, he could take care of himself. He knew what to do.
“Tweets, just go and you won’t have to smell it.” Sway turned over and curled into a ball under his scratchy sheets—it probably wasn’t the sheets—he was just filthy. He hadn’t slept all night and he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in two days. He was starving. His stomach heaved and convulsed at the tiniest bit of broth or water he drunk. He was weak, and he couldn’t get any stronger if he didn’t eat, or at a minimum, get some fluids in him. He’d even tried some Pedialyte popsicles, but those had come up too.
There was a sharp knock at the door and Tweetie whirled around, looking out of Sway’s window. “I don’t see a car. Who is that at this time of night?” Tweetie left his room and Sway took the opportunity to enjoy the peace and quiet.
“Am I glad to see you,” He heard Tweetie say.
They were silent for a long time and he’d almost dozed off when he heard his mother say softly, “He’s not the easiest patient. You know what they say about healthcare professionals.”
“They make the worst patients.” His mom and Tweetie said in unison like an irritating game of jinx.
“He won’t even bathe!” Tweetie shrieked.
“Linda, not so loud,” his mom shushed, then lowered her voice—but was still clearly heard. “He’s just real weak and he won’t let us help him.”
Sway cringed, then groaned. He wished he could roll his eyes but that would hurt also. Whoever they were talking to, he could care less what they thought of him when he wasn’t feeling well. There was more silence for a while, then Sway heard confident footsteps coming towards his bedroom. He barely cracked his eyelids when his door knob clicked and the flimsy door creaked open.
He was only hoping his mind was playing tricks on him. Brian couldn’t be walking into his tiny bedroom looking like a biker porn star in all that roughed-up leather, and big black boots. He had on black fatigue pants with the large pockets on the sides. Sway’s aching lungs throbbed as his breathing increased. Oh gaawd. A long, sheathed knife was strapped to the inside of one of his thighs. Sway dragged his tired eyes up to a mouthwatering bulge, his dry tongue coming out to lick his chapped lips. Sway tasted the foul, putridness in his mouth. He hadn’t made it to the bathroom after that last hurl. He hurried and pulled the covers up to his eyeballs, squinting at his boyfriend, silently hoping he’d understand to stay away. Shit. Brian couldn’t see him like this. Sway groaned, his achy, moist body smelling like day old garbage. Brian couldn’t smell him like this. As soon as he got close enough, he’d gag and run for the first bathhouse.
“Nooo. This is my porn.” He whined, his stomach trying to heave at the nothing in it. He just hurt to his toes. Then he realized what he’d just said out loud and feared this virus might have killed some of his brain cells.
He heard a raspy chuckle, then the sound of creaking leather being removed. Sway inhaled through the one nostril that still worked and took in the street-smell that Brian brought in with him. God, he’d missed his man. Sway kept the covers tight over his nose and mouth, peeking at Brian again. His black T-shirt was stretched across his thick chest. Sway blinked at the shiny gold bounty hunter’s star suspended around his neck and resting between his pecs. A valley Sway’s tongue missed swimming in. Sway drank in his boyfriend who he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks. He drank in seeing him like this. As Brian came closer, Sway’s slightly blurred eyes noticed that Brian had a black leather gun holster on and nestled close up under his left armpit was gleaming chrome. A chilling weapon with a silver and woodgrain grip. Sway felt his cock twitch valiantly… but that just wasn’t happening. He could only feast with his eyes, and so he did. Brian was sex on legs. When Sway looked at his face, his dark eyes were full of compassion as he stopped and squatted next to his bed.
Sway turned his head, moaning at the pain and the mortification that his bucket of puke was only a few feet away. He wiggled and rocked until he was facing away from Brian’s gorgeous face. Even that small task had taken a huge effort. “Brian, this bug is contagious. I can’t let you get sick. What about your case?” Sway covered his head, his voice muffled. “And you look so good.” Unbelievable porn good.
The cover slowly descended over his head, down his cheeks, past his neck, to his shoulders and stopped there. Sway didn’t try to pull the cover back from Brian and bury under them. But he wasn’t turning around and breathing his funky germs all over him either. No way. Nothing was making him turn around.
“Sway.”
Sway’s body dropped into the mattress, all the air deflating out of his lungs like a balloon being popped. Goosebumps broke out all over his body and the only reaction he could manage at the overwhelming shattering of his soul and the pain in his body; was one long continuous moan. Sway felt his bed dip then Brian’s mouth was close to his ear, his hot breath fanning against his clammy skin. “My sweetbaby.” A voice so sexily rough caressed Sway’s aching body and nestled inside his heart. Brian slowly peeled the rest of the sheets down and Sway turned sluggishly, gazing into Brian’s eyes. He tried to say with his look what he couldn’t say with his mouth—not because of his breath—but because he was overwhelmed with emotion.
Tweetie poked her head in. “Everything’s ready like you asked, Brian.”
Brian nodded at Tweetie, bent down, drove both his arms under Sway and hefted him into his arms as if he weighed nothing more than a blanket. Sway wrapped his arms loosely around Brian’s thick neck and sank against his body. He was too exhausted to fight. Whatever Brian was about to do with him, he’d go with it.
“Bath is nice and warm.” Tweetie was grinning from ear to ear as she tossed a warm quilt over Sway’s shivering body.
When Brian got them through his bedroom door, he saw his mom’s face light up from where she sat at the dinette set. Her warm eyes shone with affection as she watched that dark man with deadly weapons hanging off him, cradle her son to his chest as if he was the most precious thing in the world, and take him into the bathroom to wash him.