A sickfic because I’m weak
Joey has a nasty fever and Aaron doesn’t know what to do. His last resort poses a new problem for him.
This isn’t particularly good but my writing juices are running short. As usual, I’m not a medical professional so just roll with the flow on this one
CW/TW: Fever, fever aches, slight hallucination but like in passing not in detail, talk/description of scars, bruises, and broken bones, pet whumpee/conditioned whumpee. Tell me if I missed any!
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Joey knew what pain was. He wasn’t trained for it, but over the months he’d learned to expect it, to handle it, to get over it. But this… this was nothing like anything he’d ever felt before.
Every single part of his body was aching, right into his bones. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Opening his eyes and looking around the room hurt. Thinking hurt.
As a result he lay still as stone, trying to will his muscles to relax.
He was hot too, so hot that his face and back was wet with sweat, but even still he was shivering. The friction the bed sheets created against his skin stung. Was he sick? He couldn’t be, not with how Sir always made sure the heat was on, always fed him, always checked his injuries and gave him the pain pills.
He’d woken up early that morning and since then he had floated between a state of semi-consciousness and total black outs brought on by the extreme fatigue he felt. There were hazy memories of full-body pain in the back of his mind. The stinging end of a leather belt. The inconceivable full body spasm from a shock collar set too high. The white-hot headache brought on by a strap around his neck being pulled. Barrages of hitting and kicking hands and feet. And yet none of it was like this. He wanted to cry, and tears ran silently from his eyes, but there was nothing cathartic about it. He was too weak to even cry properly.