Fire and Ice

by Portia Da Costa

  Innes manages a grin. "Quite right too. Good thinking, Batman."

  We sip in silence for a while: Innes slumped back in his pillows, his cup cradled on his chest, me perched on a chair a few feet away. Despite the rigors of illness, he still looks irresistible, and it's not a good idea for me to be closer. The idea of that sleek naked body beneath the duvet is still making me feel crazy.

  "So, why no boyfriend?" Innes enquires suddenly. We have the best of working relationships, but we never pry into each other's private lives. It'd be dangerous for me, and Innes is too sensible.

  "I don't know. Nobody seems to be asking at the moment. Well, nobody who I'd be interested in." I drain my toddy, and its heat sinks down through my body to meet the heat rising up from my sex, the heat fired by Innes being so close.

  "Men are fools," says Innes, setting his own drink aside.

  I laugh, loving the strange closeness between us. It's sweet, even allowing for my sexual frustration. "Indeed they are, boss. Indeed they are."

  He gives me an odd look, and mutters, "And I'm probably the biggest fool amongst them." Then his eyelids flutter, and he seems to drift off to sleep.

  I wonder what to do. I know what I want to do, which is climb beneath the duvets with Innes and see if a bit of hands-on physical therapy can cure him. But instead I've got to find a distraction from those thoughts. I don't want to leave the room, but I can't risk turning on the flat screen television on the wall in case I wake him. In the end, I switch off the lamp furthest away from me, and by the light of the closer one, I flick through a book that Innes appears to have been reading. It's a collection of pithy anecdotes by a controversial motoring journalist, and it's really funny when I get stuck into it. From time to time, I spring to red alert, when Innes stirs, but after a while, the toddy gets to me too, and I drift off to sleep, book on lap.

  I don't know how long I doze, but I wake with a lurch, disturbed by a sound. I glance immediately towards Innes, and he's moving, tugging at his covers. He's obviously just shuffled back from the bathroom, because one of the quilts is on the floor, and he doesn't seem to have the energy to restore it to the bed. It's also colder than ever in the room, even though I'm still wearing my outdoor jacket. Darting across to check my patient, I find him half awake, half asleep, and muttering under his breath. Where he was hot before, he's now icy-cold and clammy. I wonder whether he has a hot water bottle somewhere, but he doesn't seem the type for one, and even if he was, I've no idea where he'd keep it. I conduct a cursory search while I'm in the bathroom, but I feel awkward rummaging about amongst his belongings without permission.

  When I get back to the bedroom, I can tell he's deteriorated. Innes is shivering hard now, despite his heap of bedding. What the hell can I do? He doesn't appear to have any more duvets or blankets, other than the ones I've gathered, but I've got to find a way to heat him up.

  There is one, of course, and it's been staring me in the face all along as my heart's desire.

  Body heat.

  Nothing to do with sex at all, at least for him, but skin on skin is probably the most efficient way to warm him.

  As if he's sensed my intentions, Innes rouses again when I peel off my jacket and throw it on top of the duvets. "What are you doing?" he whispers as I kick off my boots, then wiggle off my jeans, adding the latter to the heap.

  "I'm about to administer emergency heat."

  Just as I'm dimming the remaining lamp, his eyes snap open, and as I elevate the duvets a smidge and start to slide beneath them, he gives me a delicious, slightly perplexed and worried look. "Maybe I should put something on… some boxer shorts? I'm afraid I don't own any pajamas."

  At the moment, he doesn't look as if he has the strength to blow the skin off a rice pudding, much put on underwear and I'm in bed now anyway. God, his skin is so cold! It feels like marble. I snuggle up as best I can, all the time trying not to think too much about the sizeable knot of his genitalia pressing against my knicker clad loins. He's not hard, but he's still big and the feel of him is monumental, swamping my senses.

  And he knows what I'm thinking, I'm sure of it, because he tries to tug away.

  "Look, Innes, astonishing as it may seem, I've been in bed with a naked man before, and during that time, I've managed to not have sex every single second I was there." He relaxes, and I even sense a smile, despite his shivers. "I'll do my best not to harass you, out of respect for your delicate condition."

  He chuckles and edges closer, sliding his cold arms around me now, and suddenly he cracks open his self-imposed shell of propriety again... and comes to life. "I wasn't thinking of you harassing me. It was more the other way around, Cally."

  Be still my stupid heart! And be quiet my stupid pussy! He's ill. He's probably delirious. He doesn't know what he's saying and he hasn't the energy to do anything anyway, even if he meant it.

  "Indeed, boss. Well, we'll see… Given the state of you, I think I'm pretty safe from any advances. You're shaking too hard to even find my erogenous zones. Now stop talking nonsense and let me warm you up."

  It's cruel and unusual torment being allowed to touch him and yet not really touch him, but I set to work rubbing his back and shoulders and arms, and even his bottom, in an attempt to heat his skin. He feels as if he's been carved from a glacier at first, but eventually, he finally starts to thaw. Even his frigid feet start to warm up.

  It isn't sexual, but even so, he sighs, as if just not being frozen is a pleasure. His limbs loosen and his breathing slows and steadies as his shivering subsides. Is he falling asleep again?

  Great!

  Proper rest is the best thing for Innes, but irrationally, I feel a tiny bit insulted. Obviously my body isn't quite as drop-dead alluring as I'd hoped, and his libido isn't inclined to fight the flu germs.

  But somehow, lying in the arms of the man I love, with his naked body pressed all along my clothed one, is relaxing despite the infernal temptation. I too feel drowsy, warmed by my clothes, and by the duvets and my beloved Innes too.

  Influenced by my wine at home, and the hot toddy, I drift in and out of a light sleep for a while, tired by my amateurish attempts at nursing, I suppose. But eventually I rise into wakefulness again. Not with a jerk this time, just a gradual awareness and a subconscious perception of change.

  Innes is warm now, and it's natural, healthy warmth, not a fever. And that's what's woken me. We've moved apart a bit, but I can sense his body close to me. He seems not to be restless any more, and neither too hot nor too cold, and I remember how quickly I felt better with this bug. But I'm scared to ask how he's feeling, lest I disturb his sleep. Holding my breath, I roll onto my side, facing him, then reach out and touch his chest, letting my fingertips rest with infinitesimal lightness against his smooth skin and the sexy dusting of hair across his breastbone and his pectorals.

  To the touch, he feels recovered, almost well. And I squeak like a cornered mouse when his hand settles on mine, so I can't withdraw it.

  "Sorry to wake you. I was just checking your temperature." The hand stays put, flat over mine, pressing my fingers against the firm muscular contours. "You seem a bit better."

  "I feel better." His voice sounds clearer, still a little husky, but not weak or blurred by illness. "Thanks to you." He moves, and the mattress rocks, making his thighs brush mine, almost as if his naked body is seeking naked parts of mine.

  My heart thuds like a Kodo drum. Boom boom boom. It's a wonder it's not shaking the bed. I daren't open my eyes, and every nerve and instinct his telling me that Innes' health isn't the only thing that's changed. It's as if the whole configuration of the universe has suddenly shifted. A self imposed structure that presided just a few hours ago has become fluid and mutable, opening doors of perception and possibility.

  Here's my chance; a life-changing opportunity that might never come again. I wait, wondering, knowing I should withdraw, but unable to because I'm his for the taking.

  Innes begins to direct my hand. Not forcibly, it
feels more like a medium resting on the pointer of an Ouija board. Our nested fingers slide down, slowly, over his ribs, and his belly, until we encounter the inevitable, his warm, hard cock.

  Oh boy, he's fully erect.

  Rising onto my elbow, I risk a look at him. His face is all shadows and angles in the dim lamplight. I open my mouth to speak, drag in the necessary breath, but I can't frame words. The feel of his warm flesh cradled in my fingers steals away my ability to express myself in speech.

  "I know, I know," murmurs Innes. He can still speak, and attuned to me, he voices my thoughts. "We're work colleagues and it'll make things complicated." He stares heavenward for a moment, then draws in a breath, with effort, the way I did. The look on his face as he turns to me says knows we're being crazy, but there's yearning there too as he launches onward, "But, I care for you, Cally. I really do. And I know you like me. Maybe for Christmas, we can just forget work and be two people… and take time out?"

  The whole universe seems to be vibrating now, not just me. Anticipation pounds in my veins and my throat, reverberating in my brain, its beat synchronized to the pulsing blood in Innes' cock. Even though the air outside our haven of bed linen is just as frigid as before, everything around us seems hot now, surging hot.

  And though I still can't speak, I don't have to. Innes knows me, probably better than I do myself.

  "Let's pretend you're Florence Nightingale and I'm a recovering soldier in need of a bit of TLC to enhance my treatment."

  The sweet laughter in his voice releases the tension. I'm still bursting with excitement and months and years of suppressed desire, but I feel free now, and happy, to express it.

  "Well, I don't have the benefit of a history degree..." I chuckle too as I lean in towards Innes and kiss the corner of his mouth while I move my hand on his erection. He gasps as I go on, "But as far as I know Florence didn't shag the soldiers. She just waved her lamp about a bit and gave them laudanum and all that."

  "You can give me more of the medicine you gave me last night… body heat works for me." He rocks his hips, thrusting into my grasp. "It's far more effective than Lemsip or Night Nurse. I feel much better now, and parts of me are 100% again."

  No need to single out which parts, obviously. The thick, hard, hot shaft in my hand feels like a 1000% to me.

  I thought I was besotted with Innes before I walked into his flat tonight, but suddenly I adore him more than ever. He's a sexy, playful man who's somehow reborn, like a phoenix, from the ashes of forty-eight hour influenza.

  Why not have him? Just for Christmas? A gift to myself. At work, things are never going to be the same anyway. It looks like a new job is on the cards now, so why not grasp these moments of crazy paradise while I can? Come the New Year, Innes might well be all business once again.

  "But what if the treatment's too rigorous? What if you have a relapse?" I ask, letting my thumbprint slide over the fine, silky skin of his penis. "I'd be lacking in my nursely duties if I made you ill again."

  "I'll risk it," he growls, sounding more energetic now than he has done since I walked in the door, "and I can always have a nice rest afterwards, can't I, Nurse Florence?"

  "Yes, you certainly could do that." I try to sound airy, but it's difficult when Innes slithers his free arm around me beneath the covers and pulls me down towards him, squashing our two hands, still holding his cock, warm and hot between us. It's not the most elegant of clinches, but it's infinitely erotic as I kiss him hard and hungrily.

  Innes' cheeks are stubbly, and the feel of that is unexpectedly piquant. He's such an immaculate man, so smooth and groomed, and here in bed, he's all kinds of raw, delicious and primitive. As we kiss like wild things, I feel a pang of disquiet, wondering what my middle of the night breath tastes like, but it doesn't seem to bother Innes or quell his sudden voraciousness. His own mouth still tastes of whisky toddy, all spicy and honeyed. We wriggle about beneath the weight of bedding, and I'm forced to relinquish his cock as he tips me onto my back and starts to explore me. His hand feels like a firebrand on my midriff as he works it under my jumper and tee-shirt, slithering upwards. He cups my breast through the soft cup of my bra, squeezing gently, his thumb flicking around my nipple through the cotton. I suspect that usually he's a far more sophisticated and circumspect lover, but who needs a virtuoso at a time like this? I start wiggle and drag my heels as energy builds.

  We don't say much as we fondle and kiss. We're totally focused, and I sense that Innes wants to channel all his depleted strength into pleasuring me. His hand feels like feverish magic as he sneaks it beneath my bra and strokes bare skin at last, exploring and pleasing. He swaps from breast to breast and back again, teasing and toying with my nipples until I can't think straight, and can't stop twisting around and rubbing my crotch against his hip, his thigh, and his cock. I've never been so excited before a man's even touched my pussy. I usually need quite a bit of extended foreplay. But with Innes I'm all a-fire from the very beginning.

  Expertly, he presses a strong athletic thigh between mine, and starts to working himself against me; to and fro, to and fro, rubbing me with hard muscle and warm skin, stirring my clitoris. I'm almost embarrassed how wet I am. I'm a simmering pond down there, a pool of needy moisture that's soaked right through the flimsy cotton of my knickers.

  "God, I want you so much, Cally," Innes gasps, the words blurred because his mouth is still pressed to mine, "I want you so much."

  Overcome, I howl out then have me! inside my mind.

  As if he's heard me, he rocks faster against me, despite all the constriction from the sheets and quilts. His hands slide down and around me, gripping my bottom to hold me closer, work me harder. I slide my arms around him, reciprocating; helping him to help me towards my climax. I can't help but smile. We're as good a team in bed as we are at the office. Maybe better.

  Pretty soon, I can't hold out any longer. Not that I want to. My pussy clenches in a hard, deep rhythm and I come. Innes feels my spasms through my knickers and growls and laughs in primitive triumph. My nails dig into his back as the pleasure surges.

  While I'm still gasping for air, he rolls away from me, pausing to give my pussy a friendly squeeze, then wiggling an arm out of the covers in the general direction of his bedside cabinet. Ah, condoms, I presume.

  He fishes around blindly for a moment, while still trying to kiss my neck at the same time, then lets out a curse as it becomes apparent he can't find them. Goddamnit!

  "Haven't you got any?"

  "Yes, I have some, but it's a while since I had need of them and they must have go buried."

  "Let me look." With my sex still simmering, I half roll, half clamber over him, and my thigh brushes his hot erection as I go. I edge a little way out of the cave of duvet heat and lean over to look in the drawer. It's full of typical male detritus: passport, car documents, an old iPod, but underneath them, I find an open 12 pack of condoms, barely touched. I'll ponder what this might mean about his recent sex life another time. For now, I just want get a contraceptive on him, so I rip the foil off and set to my task.

  Innes efforts seem to have tired him, and he lies inert as I enrobe him in latex. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask, even though it's blatantly obvious his cock wants to do it, even if the rest of him is flagging.

  "Hell yes," he says fiercely, and as if regenerated by a moment's respite, he surges up again, rolls me onto my back again, and rears up over me, duvets and all. "There's still a bit of life in me yet, so don't you worry!" He pauses to give me a rough but pussy melting kiss. "I'll probably be completely knackered afterwards, but it'll be worth it! I've wanted you far too long to let anything stop me now."

  For a moment, I feel sad, thinking of months and months of lost opportunities. But then, there's no time and no reason to feel sad, because first I'm wriggling and squirming out of my panties, and then Innes' lovely erection is nudging at my pussy. After a few moments of the manual adjustment dance, he pushes on into me.

  And
pushes and pushes. God, he's big. Just the way I imagined him during idle moments at the office spent fantasising about what lay inside his elegantly tailored trousers. He's everything he promised to be and more.

  Finally, he's right in. Deep. To the hilt. And we both lie still as if adjusting to a whole new world. My mind keeps chanting, "This is Innes. This is Innes. Oh my God, this is Innes" while my heart just croons, "thank you, thank you, thank you."

  But pretty soon, my body instinctively rises, pushing against him, wanting to be closer, closer.

  "Cally," he groans, not really thrusting, just pushing back. Despite his claims, I know he's still fighting the illness, but desire gives him strength from out of nowhere and enough to give me pleasure, through pressure and friction. As I strain against him, he jerks his hips, and the action knocks my simmering, needy clit.

  "Ah… oh… Oh, Innes," I croon his name as orgasm claims me again, so soon, so quick, so deep, so intense. No need for a long extenuated dance of the flesh. He's in me. I love him. So I come.

  Gasping and whimpering a lot of wordless nonsense, I arch even harder against him, my body working of its own accord, while my mind is blank but for the white world of pleasure and the single word "Innes". He moves too, kissing my face and my neck, his chest heaving as he drags in long breaths. Bracing himself with one arm, he slides a hand beneath my bottom to hold me closer.

  "Oh hell, I wanted this to last. I told myself if it ever happened, I'd make it good for you." His narrow hips buck fast, faster, then furiously as I cling on, gripping his back and his bottom, just as he grips me. "Cally… oh my Cally," he gasps through gritted teeth as he jerks in a desperate rhythm and comes inside me.

  The feel of him pulsing sends me soaring yet again.

  *** *** ***

  Afterwards, it's like having survived a cyclone. I haven't got the flu. I'm in rude good health at the moment. But even I'm completely exhausted by our efforts, so heaven knows how Innes feels.

  After he climaxed, he hauled himself off me with an obvious effort, then collapsed beside me, his fingers searching blindly beneath the duvets to lace with mine. There was still strength left in him to hold on tight, really tight. "Oh God," he sighed, then promptly fell asleep.