cockwarming your bf toji while you have a fever
The room was stifling, the air thick with the scent of medicine and the heavy heat radiating from your skin. You were caught in the hazy, feverish drift of the flu, your body aching and your skin sensitive to the slightest touch.
“It’s 39 °C” Toji said, shoving the axillary thermometer in your face.
You squinted at it. “That can’t be right.”
“It was 37 °C earlier” he replied. “It went up.”
“Everything goes up around noon” you muttered.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out and pressed the dorsal side of his hand to your forehead. Then he immediately jerked his hand back with a sharp hiss. “Jesus.”
He shook his hand like he’d touched a hot pan. “You’re boiling.”
“That’s concerning” he corrected. “You trying to cook yourself?”
“I’m fine” you said, swatting his wrist away. “You’re just dramatic.”
He leaned down slightly, voice lower. “You dizzy?”
Toji straightened and clicked his tongue. “Liar.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with an unreadable expression before he suddenly reached out and pulled the comforter down.
You blinked up at him, your vision swimming slightly from the fever. Before you could protest the sudden chill hitting your damp skin, he moved. With the ruthless efficiency of a man who didn't care for obstacles, he hooked his thumbs into your pyjamas and underwear, dragging them down to your knees in one swift motion.
The cool air hit your heated thighs, a sharp contrast to the fire burning under your skin. "Toji.” you breathed, your voice raspy.
“Lemme just try something” he whispered, voice low. He crawled over you, his massive frame casting a shadow that felt like a physical weight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips felt like ice against your burning skin.
When he guided himself inside, the sensation was overwhelming. You were slick with sweat and unnaturally tight, the inflammation from the fever making every inch of you hyper sensitive. As he pushed deep, filling the ache, Toji’s entire body went rigid.
A guttural, wrecked sound tore from his throat. His head fell back, his neck muscles straining as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Fuck… this is… ugh… heavenly” he choked out, his voice thick with a primal sort of shock. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and blown out. “It’s so… fuck… so…hot inside. You’re…burning me up.”
The combination of your internal fever heat and the friction was too much for his self-control. Without even a single thrust, you felt the heavy, rhythmic pulses of his release flooding you. He groaned, a long, low vibration that shook your entire chest, his forehead dropping against yours as he struggled to catch his breath.
“So good, baby. Soooo good” he rasped, his lips finding yours in a searing, desperate kiss that tasted of salt and fever.
The contact only made your blood pump harder. Despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs, the friction had sparked a different kind of fire. You reached down, your fingers curling into the rock hard muscle of his buttocks, pulling him back into the cradle of your hips. You didn't want him still. You wanted the pressure to drown out the ache of the sickness.
Toji remained perfectly motionless, his cock buried deep within you, acting like a literal heat sink for your illness.
“No. You might faint” he muttered against the crook of your neck, his voice a low, protective rumble. He could feel the way your heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that signaled your body was nearing its limit.
“Please, Toji… move” you whimpered, the words coming out cracked and desperate. You tried to arch your back, to force some kind of friction, but your muscles felt like jelly. You moved against him, slow and deliberate, hoping to wake something primal, but he held firm, all controlled strength. He simply adjusted his grip on your waist, his large hands anchoring you to the mattress so you couldn't strain yourself further.
He let out a dark, soft chuckle, the vibration traveling directly from his chest into your sensitized body. “Guess the fever’s making you greedy”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, which was dry from the fever. His eyes were dark, still hazy from his own sudden release, but there was a stubborn streak of care in his gaze. He wasn't going to let you burn yourself out.
“You have a high fever, baby. If I start moving the way you want, your heart’s gonna give out”he whispered, though the way his jaw tightened suggested that staying still was its own kind of torture for him. Being bound by that fever induced heat, slick and tight, was testing every ounce of his legendary self-control.
So, he just stayed there. You felt every throb of him inside you, every pulse of his lingering heat merging with your own. The intimacy was stifling. The scent of him, the salt of his skin, and the overwhelming sensation of being completely filled while unable to find the release you craved.
“Go to sleep” he commanded softly, his lips brushing your forehead to check your temperature again. “I’ve got you.”
You let out a frustrated sob, your fingers clenching into the muscles of his back, but as the minutes passed, the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart began to work like a sedative. The world started to blur at the edges. Locked together in a stagnant, burning embrace, the sheer exhaustion of the flu began to pull you under, even as you felt the heavy, thrumming presence of him keeping you anchored to the bed.
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