Tired of Sleeping

[corpsefluid]

Tired of Sleeping

Word Count: 2004
Fandom: Metal Gear
Rating: Explicit
Characters: Ocelot, Kazuhira Miller
Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, mentions of vomiting, Masturbation, Sneezing, Bodily Functions
Summary: Follow up to Fever Chill, stuck in bed and horribly ill, Ocelot tries to spend a little time feeling something other than being sick and tired. Later Kaz poorly expresses minor guilt over assumptions regarding Ocelot's original symptoms.

Ocelot pushed the papers in his lap safely aside just in the nick of time for him to pitch forward with the force of a sneeze. He barely had a chance to breathe in before another sneeze hit, weaker for lack of air in his lungs, but still loud and wet.

Fortunately a third didn't decide to tickle his raw nose.

Taking the chance to breathe, Ocelot inhaled a wet, sucking, lungful of air before wiping his nose with his hand.

The tissues had run out about twenty minutes ago and he definitely didn't have the energy to get up and go looking. Instead he opted to wipe it off on his sleep shirt. It already stunk of sweat and sickness, a little mucus wasn't going to make it any worse. Disgusting, but he just didn't quite have the energy to care any more than he had the energy to get more tissues.

Just getting up to take a piss a few hours ago exhausted Ocelot.

He hadn't vomited in the past forty-eight hours, but he still felt weak. Mostly it was just a bone deep, molasses-like tiredness he couldn't quite pull himself out of, punctuated by a heavy, pounding pressure right behind his eyes. A painfully focal point for his sticky eyes and stuffy nose.

Ocelot was still feverish, but he was over the worst of it and improving enough to be cleared to return to his own quarters. Still wasn't cleared for work, however exceptions were made for him to at least continue reading reports. Drills and interrogation remained off limits but really Ocelot didn't have enough of his voice left to really complain let alone actually do any of that even if he wanted to.

In short, Ocelot was fairly miserable.

DD and his 'daddy' had to work, so apart from the occasional soldier bringing him his meals and papers to look over, Ocelot was left on his own for most of the day.

While he slept through most of the time, there was a limit to how much he could sleep no matter how tired he felt. The end result was stretches of almost painfully boring nothing.

Re-stacking the papers on his bed, Ocelot put them to the side, even though he had a couple of books around, he just couldn't stand to read any more.

He needed something else, something other than sleeping or working, just enough to break the miserable monotony of his sickness. Maybe feel something other than being sore, sick, tired or a combination of the three.

Sneezing wetly into his hand, it was when he wiped his hand off on his shirt again that it occurred to him.

It had been a while since he'd jerked off, or been touched particularly sexually at all.

Dragging his hand down his stomach, under the edge of his waistband it was apparent he didn't have it in him to do anything exciting, but it really had been a while so it wouldn't take long at least. Just enough to feel good for a bit.

Ocelot was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

He still felt cold all over, but without the bone deep chill in his joints he had a bit more freedom of movement. As easily tired as he was, at least it didn't hurt any more, though wrapping his cold hand around his dick wasn't the most pleasant sensation in the world, once the blood flow got moving he warmed up a bit.

It was difficult to bring any particular fantasy to mind with the haze of sickness draping his thoughts, but his tired, lazy strokes were still doing the job with his cock steadily hardening in his weak grip. The pleasant heat settling in his crotch slowly as he worked the soft skin with his fingers.

Rubbing the head with his thumb, Ocelot tried to twist his hand into a tighter grip so he could jerk himself properly. He could feel a building urge to raise his hips into his touch, but he lacked the will to really lift himself off the mattress, instead just shivering and curling his toes with a low whine. His heightened pulse throbbed in his aching head as he tried to breathe harder through his blocked nose and sticky throat.

Abruptly Ocelot's attempt to lose himself in the sensation of jerking off was interrupted by an itch in his nose. Holding his breath, hoping to ward off the impending sneeze, Ocelot tried to give himself that final push to orgasm. Picking up his pace and kneading his balls with his free hand through the fabric of his underwear.

The itch didn't abate in the slightest, instead turning to a painful tingle that only grew until finally he couldn't hold it back. Another hard sneeze forced Ocelot to head butt his covered knees. The moment ruined, Ocelot released his cock to wipe a glob of mucus out of his moustache.

Flopping back against the bed, it seemed like everything apart from his erection was throbbing, despite it standing tall and leaking against his stretched-tight underwear. Still, after the effort he'd put in, Ocelot wanted that orgasm.

Spitting into his hand and actually pushing his underwear out of the way, Ocelot renewed his efforts, jerking himself as fast and rough as his illness would allow, letting the wet slapping sound of it fill the air.

His slick palm seemed to do the trick, his dick reacting better to the wet friction than his previous efforts, his breath coming in sickly gasps and wheezing groans as he slid his free hand up, under his shirt so he could rub a nipple, finally starting to focus properly on the pleasure rather than his aching body.

Everything pulled tight in anticipation, despite the weak protest of his muscles, as finally, at long last he spilled his load. Sticky white come spurting onto his hand and the hem of his shirt despite his best effort to catch it all in his palm.

Collapsing, Ocelot could feel himself almost melting into the covers as the warm, post orgasmic haze settled into him.

For a moment he could almost forget he was sick... a moment that was quickly ruined by the disgusting slime dripping down the back of his throat, racking his body with a soaking wet coughing fit.

After a few moments of desperately trying to clear his miserable lungs, Ocelot was left looking at a palm full of come and mucus. Ocelot decided he wasn't any more motivated than he'd been before. Wiping the mess off on his shirt again, Ocelot peeled the shirt off, scrunching it up like so many tissues and tossing it to the side of his bed so he could go back to sleep.

 

---

 

Ocelot only managed to sleep a few hours before his breathing woke him up again. After getting up to get himself a clean shirt, drink some water and visit the bathroom he was completely ready to just go back to sleep.

Instead he got a visitor.

With a brief knock and a fair amount of scuffling outside the door, Kaz eventually hobbled in.

“You could just leave this to the men you know, “ Ocelot croaked, gesturing to the empty bowl Kaz had precariously held by a couple of fingers in his remaining hand while still keeping himself balanced with his crutch.

“You look half dead,” Kaz said, ignoring Ocelot's comment in regards to what he should and shouldn't do. Instead taking a seat that had been left at the side of Ocelot's bed so he could put down his crutch and instead use his hand to shove an empty tissue box and a couple of crumpled, used tissues off Ocelot's bedside table.

“As long as it's only half, I'll live,” Ocelot tried to laugh but ended up coughing instead.

Dragging a string-tie satchel he'd hung off his crutch onto the surface so he could open it, Kaz pulled a thermos and a plastic container of something out of the bag, “this should help with that-” Kaz paused to crack open the container with just a little difficulty,“leek porridge, supposed to be good for colds and flu and the like.” While still a bit awkward, he didn't have much difficulty tipping the food into the bowl without making a mess.

The leek mixture was strong enough that Ocelot could almost smell them through his blocked nose. Ocelot considered asking Miller why he was here, but ultimately decided it could wait until he had the energy, it wasn't as if either of them were going off base any time soon.

“Give it here,” Ocelot sighed, largely resigned to the state the sickness had him in.

Kaz passed Ocelot the bowl and a spoon, leaving the thermos in reach before settling himself back down in the chair.

It looked a bit like a sort of leek risotto...

With the warm bowl in his lap, Ocelot went to take a bite before it occurred to him that Kaz wasn't leaving. “Why are you still here? I can still eat by myself.” Ocelot couldn't say he was a fan of being watched while eating.

“Men were getting worried about how much you were eating, told them I'd make sure you ate a full meal.”

“So, Babysitting,” Ocelot snorted, regretting the move immediately as a gob of snot dribbled down his upper lip. Wiping the mess away with his sleeve, he tried to continue like nothing had happened with a slight sniffle, “I'll eat what I can without the audience, read a book or something if you're going to stick around until I'm done.”

“And this is why you get a babysitter instead of a nurse,” Kaz responded, awkwardly trying to be light hearted in his tone, “fresh out of reading material.”

“Read the intel file over there then, “ Ocelot gestured to the folder he'd abandoned earlier. Stopping to cough before he continued, “the important bits in the translation are highlighted and it's due to show up on your desk some- ” Ocelot stopped to cough again, “sometime this week, might as well get it out of the way.”

“Fine, eat, there's tea in the flask.”

Kaz was trying terribly hard not to snap at him and clearly wanted to, while it was tempting to poke with a stick, all the talking Ocelot had just done was really getting to his raw throat. No matter how little it seemed, it was more than he'd been capable of for a little while now and Ocelot was terribly close to setting himself off into another coughing fit.

Though since Kaz has taken the hint and picked up the folder, Ocelot set about investigating the so called leek-rice porridge. Despite the strength of the leek smell, Ocelot couldn't really taste much of it. The leeks were definitely there, and something else, maybe eggs in the texture, but for the most part any culinary effort that had gone in to the meal was lost on Ocelot's impaired senses.

Too sick and tired to be particularly hungry, Ocelot pushed himself to eat around half of it before stretching to put the bowl down on the side table. What he could eat though was pleasantly warming him up from the inside.

Hearing Ocelot put the bowl down, Kaz looked up from the folder to check the bowl. “You're not going to get better eating like that,” he commented.

“Then you eat it,” Ocelot took a gulp of the tea before lying down again, getting himself as comfortable as his current condition would allow.

“I'll let you get away with it this time, but next time I might just have to get the Boss to spoon feed you,” Kaz teased, the joking tone once again far too forced to be natural.

“I'm going to sleep,” Ocelot announced, rather than responding to the laboured humour. He didn't need Kaz hurting himself trying to fake friendliness.

What Ocelot needed was more rest, and he could only hope Kaz took the hint.