opalmatrix (opalmatrix) wrote,

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Good for What Ails You (fic, Antique Bakery)

Title: Good for What Ails You
Author: opalmatrix
Warnings: explicit m/m sex
Rating: NC-17 / MA
Pairing(s): Chikage/Ono
Spoilers: a little of Chikage's history
Prompt: Antique Bakery: Chikage/Ono, breakfast in bed.
Notes: written for smillaraaq , who was also the beta reader. Happy holidays, imouto-chan!
Summary: When Ono is sick, Chikage makes a house call.

Ono's eyelids opened reluctantly, as though glued partially shut. Bleak winter daylight was showing around the edges of the drawn curtains, but the apartment was still dim. His head still hurt, and the clock showed 7:23 a.m. He reached for a tissue on the bedside table and wondered why he was awake.

The doorbell buzzed - again, he suddenly realized.

I'm far too miserable to be bothered with anyone this early. I've got a rotten cold. Why doesn't everyone just leave me alone?

Whoever was at the door now leaned against the buzzer for a good long time. Clearly his oppressor was not going to leave any time soon. Reluctantly, Ono sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet curled away from contact with the icy floor. Maybe he could just sit here for a while, like this, with his warm comforter still wrapped around him and his feet hovering just over the cold, nasty boards. He was even wearing pajamas, for once, because he felt so chilled.

"Mr. Ono?"

Oh no. It was Chikage.

If he thinks I'm in trouble, he'll become very excited. Perhaps he'll break the door down.

For a moment, a sentimental part of Ono considered this idea. It was very romantic to think of someone caring enough to break down a door to save him. Then logic reasserted itself. It would be very hard to explain that situation to his landlady. Especially when he felt so horrible.

I must be running a fever.

He managed to find his glasses. Then he forced his feet down onto the cold wooden flooring, rose unsteadily, and staggered toward the door.

""Mr. Ono!"

"Coming!" shouted Ono - or at least, he meant to shout. His voice was a hoarse croak. He reached the door, unlocked it, and threw it open.

Chikage had apparently been leaning on the door, because he more or less fell into the room. He was carrying an insulated delivery bag, which he managed not to drop. "Mr. Ono! You're alive!"

"Yes. So to speak."

Chikage's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Ono felt bad for being sarcastic with him.

"You're sick," Chikage said, at last. "You should be in bed."

Now it was Ono's turn to gape wordlessly. "I had to answer the door," he finally croaked, pointedly.

It made no impression. "Yes. I have your breakfast and your lunch. My lord said I can bring you dinner, too."

Ono gave up. "Kitchen," he rasped, gesturing. "Just leave it there."

"Mr. Ono, you're sick. Go back to bed, and I will bring you your breakfast."

Chikage took off his sunglasses, set down the bag, removed his shoes, and shut the door. Then he put one arm around Ono's shoulders and started propelling him toward the bedroom doorway. He was strong. And as handsome as ever. Ono decided it wasn't worth resisting when he felt so terrible. He let himself be put back to bed and propped up with pillows. There he sat after Chikage left the room, blowing his nose, and wondering what sort of a mess Chikage was making in the kitchen.

Soon enough, Chikage came back with two bowls and a teacup, all steaming and perched precariously on Ono's largest serving platter. Ono hastily tried to rearrange the bedside table to receive the dishes and ended up knocking the clock to the floor.

"Mr. Ono, let me take care of that."

Chikage set the platter carefully on the floor and removed the empty water glass and the aspirin bottle to the windowsill. Then he retrieved the clock and set the dishes out: soup, rice, tea; a spoon, chopsticks. "I'll be right back, Mr. Ono."

Ono carefully picked up the soup and the spoon. Chikage came back with a napkin and a chair. He stopped in the doorway, looking dismayed. "Mr. Ono, let me help you with that!"

Oh, surely not.

"I can feed myself, Mr. Chikage." Ono then proceeded to spill half a spoonful of soup down the front of his pajamas and over the comforter.

Chikage very carefully removed the soup bowl and spoon from Ono's shaking hands and mopped him up with the napkin. Then, without saying a word, he slowly and meticulously fed Ono the bowl of soup. It was a little over-seasoned: Tachibana's cooking, presumably. It went down well enough, however, and after Ono had finished it and blown his nose several times, he felt marginally more human.

"You're good at that, Mr. Chikage."

"I got lots of practice with Deko."

Of course. "I don't think I want anything else to eat."

To his surprise, Chikage laid the back of his hand gently against Ono's forehead. "You have a fever, don't you?"


"I know what to do about that."

Ono looked expectantly over at the displaced aspirin bottle, but Chikage seemed uninterested in it. Instead he stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Mr. Chikage ... what are you doing?

"I am going to make your fever go away."

"But ... ." Chikage's chest was every bit as lovely as Ono had dreamed. He stared at the flat plates of the pectoral muscles, the dusky rose nipples, the flat, flat belly ... not much in the way of abdominal definition, but then, Chikage would never work out at a gym, would he?

And now the man was slipping off his socks and unbuttoning his trousers.

Ono's brain seemed to be heating up along with his face. This should be a happy dream, except that his nose was still stuffed and his lips were still chapped and now he was probably losing his mind. I must be delirious. That was it. It explained everything. For example, it was the only reasonable explanation for why Chikage, now stripped to sparkling white jockey briefs, was sitting on the edge of his bed and tugging at his pajama shirt.

"You have to take this off, Mr. Ono. Our skin has to touch."

Of course it did. That's exactly what he'd been trying to accomplish on that night in the bar nearly a year ago. But not like this! He let himself be pulled up from the pillows so that the pajama top could come off. Despite the fact that his torso was now bare, his body seemed to be sizzling with heat. And then Chikage slipped under the covers with him, and pulled him close.

The surprise was that it felt so nice, and yet not at all the way in which Ono expected. Chikage's body was cool against him, like shade on a hot sunny day. His arms were firm and strong, and their legs - Ono's pajama-clad, Chikage's bare - tangled together in a curiously comforting way. That was all good, because his head seemed to be coming to a boil, and his skin was on too tight, somehow, and he needed something to distract him, or he might scream.

With all that was going on, the fact that he was getting hard against Chikage's thigh was almost an afterthought. But once he'd noticed it, he couldn't stop thinking about it. And wondering whether Chikage had noticed, and what he would do when he did.

Chikage ended the speculation a moment later by unwrapping one long arm from around Ono's back and pressing his hand gently against Ono's crotch, instead. Ono thought that surely his blood pressure must be reaching dangerously high levels.

"D-do you know what you're doing, Mr. Chikage?"

"What I did for Ms. Sakurako. Only you don't want a baby." Gods in heaven above, was he smiling?

Perhaps he hadn't been, because now he looked very serious. "May I kiss you, Mr. Ono?"

This was five kinds of backwards. Ono giggled weakly. "Only if you stop calling me 'Mr. Ono.' My name is Yusuke."

There was a brief silence while Chikage seemed to think about that. "Yu-san," said Chikage, at last, and kissed him.

It was sloppy, and enthusiastic, and surprisingly arousing. When they broke off at last, Ono found he was panting. He pressed himself firmly against the large, cool hand at his groin. "You can touch me harder," he breathed.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Do it like you would do to yourself."

Chikage pushed his hand inside Ono's pajama bottoms and took hold of him. Ono groaned. Predictably, Chikage looked at him anxiously.

"No, don't worry ... please, more ... ."

Chikage nuzzled against his neck with soft lips and began to stroke him. Like the kiss, it was inexpert, but very, very good. After a couple of minutes, Ono found himself thrusting in rhythm, his pulse roaring in his ears and sweat beginning to gather along his hairline, on his chest, at the base of his spine.

"Am I doing this right, Yu-san?"

Ono could barely hear his own voice over the noise his blood was making, but he did his best to answer: "Oh, yes, oh, Chi ... ." And then he was coming so hard that he couldn't do anything but moan.

When he could open his eyes again, Chikage was staring down at him, wide-eyed, and feeling his forehead again. Ono felt boneless and weak, yet much more clear-headed. "I'm fine, Chi-chan."

Chikage's face relaxed a little. "Your skin is all wet. But you're a lot cooler. It worked, didn't it?"

Ono blinked and then chuckled. "Yes, it did. You cured my fever. I feel much better."

"I think you need new pajamas. They're all damp."

"Yes, and new sheets. And you need some clean briefs. I'm all over you."

"Oh. Oh, no! My lord is expecting me back at the shop."

"I have some boxer-briefs that are a little stretched out. You could probably wear them."

Chikage blushed, which was adorable. Ono pushed gently against his chest. "Let me up. I need to wash."

"You should be in bed -"

"Yes, but I can't sleep like this. I need to wash and get on some clean pajamas. Right?"

Chikage finally seemed to get all the elements of what was happening into the right order in his head. He carefully rolled back the comforter and got out of bed, then helped Ono to his feet. The pajama pants were sagging around Ono's knees, so he stepped out of them. Chikage watched him attentively. Ono could see that he was half-hard. Hmmm.

Chikage looked away. "I can change the bedding." Ono had his doubts, remembering what Tachibana had said about Chikage's housekeeping skills, but he felt fragile enough that he wasn't inclined to argue. "All right. The clean sheets are in this cabinet."

When Ono got back from the bathroom, clean and demurely wrapped in a bathrobe, Chikage had the bed more or less in order, had removed the dishes, and had even found Ono's only other pair of pajamas and laid them out. "Where does the dirty laundry go, Yu-san?"

"Here, in this basket. And ... here. These might fit you. Take those off and sit down on the bed."

"But I don't need to sit down to change them."

Ono gave him his best smile. "Chi-chan. Take them off. And sit down. Now."

It worked. Chikage, looking mesmerized, sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. Ono dropped to his knees before him and gently pushed his lean thighs apart. Still half-hard, but getting harder. It was going to be quite a nice mouthful. He stroked it with the back of one hand. "Look at this ... you have a problem here, Chi-chan. Let me help you."

Chikage grabbed his shoulders. "Yu-san, no, I need to get back - " and Ono opened his mouth and took him in.

Chikage groaned and shifted one hand to Ono's damp hair. Ono bobbed his head slowly, feeling Chikage growing to full hardness in his mouth. He tasted lovely, mostly clean, just a little salty, and Ono could smell his own come, faintly, from where it had seeped through Chikage's briefs before. He couldn't take Chikage as deep as he would have liked - his nose was still stuffy - so he shifted one hand to stroke the base of Chikage's length and concentrated on what he was doing with his tongue. Then he took as deep a breath as he could; slid his lips way, way down; and swallowed. Chikage seemed to stop breathing entirely and then moaned sharply as he came hard down Ono's throat.

Ono swallowed again, and again, until it was all gone. Then he straightened up to rest his head against Chikage's flat, firm stomach while Chikage stroked his hair. He thought he could just pass out like this, but finally, Chikage moved him back gently so that he could bend down and rest his forehead against Ono's. "You didn't need to do that."

"I wanted to."

"You're sick."

"You made me feel much better."

Chikage rubbed his cheek against Ono's hair. "I need to go. I'll come back tonight and bring you dinner."

The thought made Ono smile. He let Chikage pull him to his feet and awkwardly help him put on the clean pajamas. Then he propped himself up against the wall to watch Chikage dress, because he thought that if he sat down, he would not be able to make himself get up again. The boxer-briefs were a little tight, but that only made the view more interesting, until Chikage covered it with his completely uninteresting trousers.

"Mr. Ono, go to bed."

So they were back to Mr. Ono and Mr. Chikage. That was all right, for now. He knew what to do about it, once he was well again. "I have to let you out and lock the door."

"Oh. That's right."

He walked Chikage to the door, very carefully, because even though his head was clear, his legs were wobbly, and he didn't want Chikage to get worried. After putting on his shoes, Chikage stopped abruptly, his hand on the door handle, and turned back to look at Ono.

"Goodbye, Mr. Chikage. Thank you ... for breakfast."

Chikage smiled suddenly and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Yu-san. Go to bed." Then he put on his dark glasses and left.

As Ono locked the door, he heard Chikage's cellphone go off. He deliberately turned his back, ignoring Chikage's voice as he answered it, and staggered to his bedroom again. The bed was not as tidy as it could have been, but it was clean. His nose was only a little stuffy now, and when he slid under the covers, he could still smell Chikage, faintly, on the pillow.

Ono smiled and fell deeply asleep.


Tags: antique bakery, chikage, fic, nc-17, ono
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