Vin pulled the blanket up over his tee-shirt-covered shoulders. He just couldn't get warm, and the chills that wracked his body felt as if they would eventually kill him. He moaned as he closed his eyes — even doing that hurt. Maybe he was going to die. Be a blessing, really. He'd had gunshot wounds less painful than this flu, which had overtaken him just last night.

A sudden weight on the edge of the mattress sent waves of aching pain over his body again. "Here, drink this," a voice told him, but Vin didn't want any part of it.

Just let me die in peace.

But Chris wouldn't let him. "Come on, Vin. This'll help you feel better. Nathan said so."

Well, if Nathan said so....

Then a hand slipped behind his neck — the skin was cool against his own. It felt good, real good. The hand encouraged Vin to lift his head, and he did, struggling to sit up in bed.

"I brought you soup," Ryan told him, gesturing to the mug with the spoon sticking out of it that sat on the stacked milk-crates currently functioning as a nightstand.

Vin glanced over, but the movement only reminded him of the aching muscles in his neck, and how much the curtain-filtered light of the room still hurt his eyes. "Hate bein' sick," he managed to mumbled, but this only made his boyfriend smile.

"Oh, I don't know ... it seems like it has its advantages."

For the life of him — or the death — Vin couldn't think what possible advantages Ryan could mean. Couldn't be the fever, the chills, the aching muscles, the pounding headache, the sore throat....

Vin looked at his partner for an explanation, but Ryan only leered back at him as he reached out, running his hand over the covers in the general region of Vin's crotch. "I get to have you in bed all day ... and all night."

"I'm sick," Vin reminded him, though he was pretty sure it was obvious. But, maybe not, since Ryan had now slipped a hand beneath the covers, finding and then fondling Vin's dick, which ached as badly as every other part of his body. "Don't..." Vin pleaded, but Ryan didn't stop. It was almost like he knew Vin was helpless, and he was getting off on it.

Finally, Vin reached below the covers and managed to push Ryan's hand away. Then he curled up on his side, presenting his back to his boyfriend.

"I'll check on you later," Ryan said. He got off the bed and started to move away. "Don't forget your soup."

And then the room was empty. Silent.

Vin just stared at the far wall, his vision blurring more and more from the tears welling up in his eyes. He knew it was the flu — the fever, the aches, causing the tears — because he didn't cry. He didn't. But why did Ryan have to be such an asshole sometimes?

Vin squeezed his eyes shut, effectively damming the tears, and then he curled up tighter and pulled the covers closer.

"Come on, Vin, you need to drink this," he heard a voice again. Then he felt a cool hand on his forehead, followed by cool lips.

Vin pulled away, though it sent a wave of nausea coursing over him. "Don't...."

"Vin, please. You should drink this. It'll help you feel better."

But Vin knew where this was leading. He'd sit up, and then Ryan would be all over him again. Seemed the longer he stayed in this bed, the worse his boyfriend got. What the turn-on was for Ryan, he couldn't figure out. Vin had passed in front of the bathroom mirror enough times to know that he looked like complete shit — road kill looked more appealing than he did — yet Ryan kept coming back for more. He'd be fucking Vin before this illness was over, as soon as Vin lost the strength to push him away.

Maybe if he just gave in ... maybe if he just let Ryan fuck him, the guy would get it out of his system and just leave him alone? He was pretty sure Ryan would make quick work of it — he usually did when he got all grabby. The long, slow fucks needed a special mood, which Ryan was very rarely in. So, five minutes — ten tops — would be all he'd have to endure, then the man would leave him alone, leave Vin to spend the rest of his misery in peace.

Might just be worth it.

Vin struggled, somehow managing to roll onto his stomach. He reached down and pushed his boxers as far off his hips as he could — it wasn't very far, so Ryan would have to do the rest of the work. Vin just lay there, waiting, knowing it would happen soon. Ryan wasn't one to pass up a proffered piece of ass.

Then he felt it, and he knew it had begun. It would be over soon now. He just hoped it wasn't too much more painful than this damn flu already was.

Hands moved his t-shirt high up his back, then they were laid flat against his hot skin. The coolness was almost a shock, but only for a brief moment, and then Vin realized how good it felt, how soothing. The hands began to move gently over his back, slowly easing the aches in his muscles.

Vin released a ragged breath. He couldn't believe Ryan was doing this for him — why hadn't he jumped his bones already — but Vin sure wasn't going to stop him to ask. It felt too good for that and he just wanted it to continue, forever, or at least until he was over this flu.

Then he felt the hands slid lower, down to his cheeks, then over to his hips. Fingers slipped beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers. Vin knew it had been too good to last. Ryan would be yanking off his boxers now, then roughly pushing Vin's legs apart so that he could shove his dick up Vin's ass. Vin tried to brace himself, knowing it wouldn't be pleasant and that Ryan probably wouldn't care.

But the fingers at his hips began to pull the cotton material up until Vin's cheeks were completely covered. Then Vin felt the hands on his back again, slowly rubbing in circles, over every fiber of muscle, encouraging him to relax. And he did.

"Ryan...." He was suddenly feeling sleepy again, so tired from all of this. Maybe Ryan wasn't such an asshole after all. Maybe he'd finally realized how sick Vin was, how awful he felt. Be a first, Ryan putting Vin above himself. Vin smiled. It was a nice feeling....

"... Vin," he heard a soft voice and felt a cool hand on his cheek.

He opened his eyes. The room was dark, except for the glaring light emanating from the bathroom doorway. Vin took a few deep breaths, but his lungs hurt now, and he sat up suddenly as the coughing began. New waves of pain shot through him. He just kept feeling worse — how was that possible?

But he felt arms come around his shoulders, holding him ... no, supporting him, when the coughs left him weak and breathless. Then he felt a hand on his cheek again, encouraging him to look up and meet the eyes of the man who was helping him.

The face Vin saw was smiling, gently, sympathetically. The look in the man's eyes was one of concern. There was no lust, no lasciviousness, no leering. This man loved him and wanted nothing more than for Vin to be healthy again.

"Chris...?" he managed, though his voice was barely as loud as a whisper.

"Shh," he mumbled into Vin's hair as Vin sank against his strong shoulder. "You're gonna be fine. And I'll be here, for whatever you need."

Vin's muscles suddenly relaxed and the aching of his body seemed to fade a bit. That was all he wanted: somebody to care....

But then he was pushing Chris away, scrambling off the bed to stagger desperately across the room. He knocked into the doorjamb, nearly losing his footing, but somehow managed to grab the edge of the bathroom counter to steady himself. Then he was on his knees, head over the toilet bowl....

That was all he needed: somebody to hold his hair....

~ fade ~

Series Index

March 2002

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Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, CBS Worldwide, Inc., or their affiliates. The M7-ATF universe was created by Mog, and extra thanks go to her for allowing other people to play so liberally within it. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.