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There's a steady, barely perceptible thrum in this room. It's not enough to prompt him to leave the comfort of his soft, warm bed, but just enough to keep him between sleep and consciousness—always between two states, two timelines.
Ekko finds it a little funny, the corners of his lips twitching when he hears the door groan low and long like someone's careful not to make too much noise as they open it.
He could recognize that sound even if he was underwater, and even with his head so swollen and numb as it feels now. Jinx, his beloved girlfriend, is coming for her hourly visit to check on him as he strenuously recovers from his latest flare-up.
He'd find irony in the fact that they both are heroes who happen to be chronically ill—a dichotomy of strength and weakness—if their whole life wasn't exactly like that; a series of contradictions and cruel jokes tearing them to pieces each time they'd grow an inch.
At least he's been blessed with a girlfriend who understands first-hand what he experiences. But that too is little comfort when he'd really just rather she would not suffer any more than she already has.
He feels her drawing closer, the soft creak of floorboard beneath her feet so very her that it feels like balm over his heart. She lays the back of her hand on his forehead, her knuckles a little cold and rough on his tender skin, but he says nothing. She's checking his temperature, worrying and fussing over him—it's sweet. The pricks of pain are almost worth it then.
With a satisfied hum, her hand leaves him and he finds himself immediately missing it. He hears her circle the bed, and eventually feels the mattress dip beside him.
He expects her to get under the covers with him to get some rest herself, but when after a few seconds, he still hasn't felt the blanket shift, he faintly opens one eye; just enough to peer over at her through the slit between his lower and upper lid, but not enough for the sunlight stubbornly peeking through drawn blinds to assault his frazzled senses.
She's rummaging through her bedside drawer for a few things he initially struggles to make out when she pulls them out. It looks like some kind of oil, but he's not sure what the other thing is supposed to be—some heating patches or a set of band-aids, maybe. The latter he's a little less sure of, though.
But perhaps more startling to him is her appearance.
Her long blonde hair usually tied in two pigtails and adorned with a cat-ears headband is instead put up in a thick, loose buns with two curly strands framing her face and tucked into place by a blue bandana tied like a make-shift nurse-cap.
While she normally wears fur-lined panties with sparkly cat-ears or cheeky doodles and catch-phrases with a tight-fitting crop-top to wander the house and lounge around with him, today she wears something completely different.
She's got on baby-blue nurse scrubs with the pants roughly cut into shorts so small her ass is nearly out. Her legs are on full display for him to ogle; pale thighs tattooed with green, whisker-like streaks wrapping from the sides to just shy of her inner thighs, right where his hands should be to part them and dive right in.
Then his eyes flick up to find the hint of green and blue streaks over the back of her hand and fading above her wrists, resembling winding flames or lightning. Over her left shoulder, he can see the start of another tattoo, bright green, and another just behind her ear with his initial and hers in a blue heart.
She's beautiful, and even more so; she knows and is currently using it against him.
Because when his eyes finally shift to her face, he finds her already staring, a smirk drawn on her face.
"Is Mr Gyrostar done pretending to sleep?" She purrs, slinking on all fours and crawling towards him, leaving her findings on her side of the bed to pull the blankets off of him and come straddle him instead.
He puffs out a weak laugh, leaning up on his elbows to look up at her in spite of his migraine. "We on last name basis now? Jinx, I've seen your—Umph!"
She's pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him back onto the bed, leaning over and arching to languidly brush her breasts over his chest as she rubs her thumbs over his temples.
"It's Doctor J to you, Mr," she whispers in his ear.
He blinks in confusion for a few seconds, then hums in understanding—they're playing.
Never a dull day with her.
He stifles a laugh and watches as she reaches for her oil and strange patches.
"How are we feeling today, Mr Gyrostar?" she asks as she pops the cap of the oil bottle and pours a generous amount in her palm, before rubbing her hands together.
"I—Um—Alright," he croaks out, his throat sore from days of little use. "A little better than yesterday," he says.
She hums, "That's good to hear," and presses her slick hands to his shoulders, beginning to massage them nice and deep.
He groans with relief and closes his eyes as he lets her uncoil the gathered tension with expert fingers, welcoming the sweet, comforting smell of almond oil lathered on his tender skin.
"Tell me, Sir," she continues, her tone soft but clinical. "How would you prefer your treatment?" She asks, subtly shifting her core over his crotch, making him whimper. "Light and slow," she teases his neck and shoulders with a featherlight touch, "Or nice and deep," she offers, applying more pressure on his point of tension.
He lets out a sharp breath, eyes flying shut as he feels her dig into him, pressing her core deeper against his hardening bulge.
"Like that," he splutters. "Like that, ba—Dr," he corrects himself, an amused smile tugging at his lips.
"Good boy," she murmurs and taps his pec twice, before slipping back into character. "Now tell me, Sir," she rubs back and forth from the back of his neck to his chest, steadily rocking over his hardness. "On a scale from one to then," she leans down to press a kiss on his throat, then his jaw, a finger grazing over a nipple, "What would you rate your pain today?"
"I—Fuck—Se-Seven," he stammers through shaky breaths as he presses her finger over the nipple, letting her nail imprint a small crescent over the areola.
She smiles against his cheek, gently grazing it with her teeth before giving it a kitten-bite, and leans back.
"That's good news, isn't it, Mr Gyrostar?" She chirps, letting her hands drag towards his lower abdomen where they rub deep and hard to make his breath itch and tension fade to pleasure.
"Yesterday was an eight, right? Steady progress is good," she smiles and leans back, gyrating her hips with a little more insistence now, making him buck up into her.
She presses her hands firmly into his abdomen, pinning him down, and he whines.
"Minimal effort, doctor's order," she declares and begins massaging him again, making a point of focusing on the sweet spots she's come to learn over the years they've been intimate together. "Just lie down and let the professionals work, Sir."
And then she leans over to take his nipple into her mouth as she massages his lower abdomen and grinds on him, sending a rush of warmth blooming all over his aching body and putting him at ease for the first time in days.
He lets himself relish in the soft, careful press of her thighs against his, keeping count of his illness even through her little game. Her hands are purposeful, every press and caress serving to expertly unravel his ache and tension.
Her mouth is warm and wet over his nipple, offering a delirious suction with a hint of teeth that sends him reeling, slowly dulling the throbbing pain in his head and sending pleasant tingles all over his abdomen. She purrs and rocks over him, sucks harder, and he throws his head back then; white mohawk pressed on either side of his brown, fuzzy hair.
He can feel her wetness seep through her shorts and into his blue boxers she'd doodled her name in green over with a little arrow and a greedy cat's face poking its tongue at the corner of its mouth.
She's divine, her every action, her very existence like a warm balm on frazzled nerves. And when she leans back, abandoning his sore, wet nipple while he still feels tingles all over his chest and right down to his gut, there's a light blush on her face indicating she's just as affected as he is—all because she preens at taking care of him and making him feel so good.
He watches with parted lips and a heaving chest as she reaches for the strange patches she'd left on her side of the bed and begins to gently place them over his torso—two at his shoulders, two over his chest, one on his stomach, and two over his hips.
They're soft, a little cool, and he chuckles on instinct.
"Wanna tell me why you're decorating me, J—Doc?"
She doesn't answer him, hands hooking on the hem of her top instead as she pulls it off in one swoop, knocking all the air out of his lungs when she presents him with the blessing that her body is; even after all this time.
The green streaks on her thighs are bolder on her hips, enhanced by blue scratch marks below her tits and some pink vein-work over her sternum, fading down her navel where the green whiskers fade too; both tattoos barely touching.
She's got a bra on, made of black microfiber with cut-outs between either sides of the cups and only leaving a band of fabric over the cups which are really but a triangle of microfiber covering the middle of her tits and leaving their sides out for him to ogle.
There's an opening in the center from which an emerald kitten jewel hangs right over her sternum, and it pulls him in like a flickering star in the darkest night—like a cure to his ailments, even if short-lived.
He needs his girl closer. Wants to feel her and come pressed up in and against that beautiful body of hers.
His movements are frustratingly sluggish as he reaches forward, trying to pull her down over him and kiss her. He's still recovering, he knows, but he misses being able to tackle her and make her sob in his ear as he'd pin her down and—
"What did I say about moving, Mr Gyrostar?" She shifts off his bulge, making him whine in protest. "I can't help you if you don't let me work here," she says and crawls down between his legs, dragging her hands up each patch and sending a buzzing warmth as she does—as they seem to activate. "Will you let me take care of you, my dear patient?" She asks and tilts her head, green eyes plunged into his own blue ones.
He nods eagerly and Jinx chuckles, then leans down to press a kiss to his bulge that makes him shudder and bucks into her face.
"Mmh, looks like you really need my help here, Sir," she drawls, hooking her fingers around the waistband of his boxers and, when he nods again, peels them off with a rabid gaze.
When she pulls back to discard it carelessly, the green kitten-paw tattooed on her shoulder catches the light like a firelight through moonbeams.
And then he lies exposed before her while she's still half-clothed and eyeing him with poorly-hidden desire—if she's even trying. She settles near his throbbing, hard cock, tilting her head curiously as she grasps it, and her breasts threaten to pop out of her bra with the press of her arm against her chest.
She presses her thighs together as she takes him in in all his glory, licking her lips. And then she traces the vein protruding from his length with the tip of her nose, making him moan
That she would know exactly how to drive him crazy so fast, so easily doesn't surprise him. But in times like these, when he feels at his lowest and finds her right there, not just staying but desiring and loving him all the same, Ekko has a hard time believing this isn't some grand joke he's not in on.
If you had told him while he was running from chrono-enforcers that an Animatech vigilante would slam right into him—the same girl he'd lost years ago too—Ekko would've laughed. It sounded like it was straight out of a fever dream, but her touch reminds him it's real life; any pain he feels is at least matched by the bliss of that.
He looks down as she teases his balls with one hand and smears pre-cum from his tip to his length with the other, groaning at the sensations enhanced by the electric warmth the patches keep sending all over his sensitive body.
"That help you feel better, Sir?" She asks, fluttering her eyelashes at him while she gives his cock a first stroke.
He nods, biting his lip so hard he can taste blood, and she grins, placing a kiss on his tip that makes him whimper.
Jinx opens her mouth, slackens her jaw, and engulfs his length in her wet warmth with no hesitation, eyes fixed on his and breasts pushed against the underside of his throbbing member.
He's enthralled by the softness of her chest, the brush of microfiber and her expert hand working his dick as she slowly bobs her head back and forth over his tip.
Her mouth is wet and warm, soft and welcoming, and he wishes he had the strength to weave through her hair and completely shove her down like he normally would, but he finds he rather appreciates the view of her working his girth into her mouth.
The second he hits the back of her throat and she splutters, fingers tightening around his balls and spit drooling around and down her mouth, he throws his head back with a groan and allows himself to at least try and roll his hips to fuck into her mouth.
She hollows her cheeks and hums, encouraging him, and Ekko loses it.
The drag of her tongue, the warmth and the pulse of her throat as he thrusts, the vacuum-like seal she has around him makes him burn. Jinx opens her throat to take him deeper, her nose touching the fuzz of hair over his stomach, and they both moan at that, both roll their eyes and tremble.
The patches seem to thrum deeper, faster with his increasing pleasure, and even groggy and tired as he is, he can't help but praise his gorgeous, ruined girlfriend.
"Feels so—so good," he babbles through pants and moans as she hums and mewls around his length. "Fuck, I need to—need—need your—Gods, Jinx," he grunts and bucks into her mouth hard when she grazes him with her teeth to rile him up.
She moans loudly at that, the sound thrumming around his length and encouraging him to repeat the action, forgetting all about pain and sickness when she surrenders her mouth
She's spluttering, breathing heavily into him, seems squirmy and needy, and when he manages to look down and sees her green eyes swallowed by lust-blown pupils, he bucks into her mouth and shoots unusually early with a guttural groan that booms through the room.
So more sensitive then—Jinx is definitely gonna use that, he knows.
Jinx swallows eagerly, humming at the taste, at the feel of him shooting so suddenly and needily only at the eye contact with her, and preens a little—a lot—inside.
By the time Ekko comes to, he finds a naked Jinx with her face tear-streaked, the two strands of hair previously framing her face now sticking to it, and her nurse-bandana discarded, serving to wipe his cum off her mouth.
She's breath-taking.
"Feel better, Mr Gyrostar?" She giggles this time and he tries to surge forward, to reach for and pull her down, but the dull ache in his body makes itself known again—even with his receding climax and the pulsing hex-patches on his torso.
She frowns, cocking her head to the side. "So not enough then."
And he offers a bittersweet smile. "Sorry, blue."
She straddles him, fully bare, and settles her wetness over his half-hard cock as she leans down to whisper in his ear, "You've nothing to be sorry for. It's my job to take care of you."
And with that, she begins rocking back and forth over his cock, drawing overwhelmed whimpers and whines from him as she burrows into his neck and lavishes it with bites and kisses.
He sighs, weakly wrapping his arms around her frame and surrendering to her care. Her clit catches over his tip and she shudders, quickening the pace of her hips and completely soaking him in the process.
"How's—How's your pain, now?" She still asks, lips brushing the shell of his ear as her hard nipples brush over his, her skin further heating up the hex-pads and his body in turn.
His fingers twitch at her waist, one hand dragging to hold and press on her ass, encouraging her endeavor.
"S-Six," he manages, hips rolling into her off their own accord.
She smiles, places a kiss on his cheek, and leans back. Her hand grasp his cock, dragging it between her folds which makes them both moan, and she looks down at him with fervor.
"Let's make that a five then," she says and guides him to her entrance, sinking down in one go.
He groans and bucks up, nudging deeper inside her and making her gasp.
"Fuck, baby," she immediately breaks character, pressing her hands to his chest to hold herself up as she flutters around him, struggling to adjust to his girth even after all these years.
He drags a hand up her chest, pressing it to her heart, and kneading the tender flesh there as she begins to languidly move over him.
"I know, blue," he whispers, brushing a thumb over her nipple. "I know, it's the same for me."
And then he starts syncing his hips with hers, chasing her mewls as he moans, pants, and burns for her. His body thrums, sizzles, every frazzled nerve now powered and pleased beyond measure.
She's snug and warm around him, soaking right down his thighs, and with her head thrown back, her bottom-lip caught between her teeth, Ekko's pretty sure there isn't a better cure out there than his baby.
"Fuck, this pussy's gonna make me come," he groans when she clenches, a tell-tale sign of her impending orgasm so soon. "So damn greedy, so good," he praises and she whines.
"S'been too—too long," she heaves out, quickening her pace to make him fall apart. "Please, let me—let me feel you."
His breath hitches at that and his grip on her tightens, silently cursing his illness for preventing him from flipping them over and pounding her until she screams.
But this is nice too, especially when she comes around him not late after, gushing all over him and sobbing, hips stuttering but not relenting as she chases for his pleasure as well.
"Come on, let me take your pain," she leans down to whisper in his ear, chests pressed and heartbeats so close. "Pour it all in me, my darling patient," she teases one last time.
Her words, combined with her care and her warmth make him fall apart with a broken whine, a sound lost in her neck and thrumming in her veins as everything intensifies. His body feels as charged as his damn chronobreak, sizzling and spinning, and he floods her cunt with his cum without restraint, making them both moan lewdly and slump into each other.
They stay locked together a while, eventually shifting to their sides and caressing each other's hair, gazing into each other's eyes, but never parting.
"Do you feel better, my love?" She eventually asks, nudging his nose.
"Yeah," he replies in a beat, pressing a quick, tender kiss to her lips. "I missed you, blue. And it…It did help a little, yeah."
She nuzzles into his shoulder, smiling. "I guess we could call it cum-letting, mmh?"
He looks down, humming in confusion.
"Like blood-letting, dummy," she quips and rolls her eyes. "Except this time it's not dangerous and it actually works, plus I've got my womb full again, ha!"
He sighs fondly, leaning to press a kiss on the top of her head.
"You're lucky I love you," he says.
But really he means he's lucky to love her and be loved back in return—even if her jokes are a little corny and her ideas eccentric.
He must admit Dr Jinx was pretty sexy, though.
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