In His Kiss

Chapter 25

Chicken soup.


Justin did not mind the long ride home on the subway at all. He’d just had one of the best evenings of his life. He was so in love with Brian Kinney, he really should be slapping himself instead of having to make sure he didn’t start smiling at strangers in the subway, a sure way to attract trouble.

He didn’t want to think about the future. He just wanted to bask in his glow of happiness. His body could still feel Brian’s arms tight around him, Brian’s sensuous kisses, could still hear Brian’s scream as he came, and see his smile afterward.

And that is all he would think about tonight. He would not try to reason with himself, or diminish the experience to protect himself. Tonight, Brian had loved him. He’d felt it with every cell in his body. And whatever tomorrow would bring, or more to the point, what Friday would bring, he would know forever and refuse to deny that what he had felt from Brian this one evening was love.

He got home, half frozen despite the layers, took a hot shower, put on clean underclothes and went to sleep, smiling.

When the alarm went off in the morning, he woke up with a horrible headache, shivering under his covers, his body aching all over. Fuck. He couldn’t believe it. He was sick. He tried to get up, and the room started spinning. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was no way he could go to work in this state.

Andrew came back in the room from his shower and Justin was very glad to see him. He had been worried Andrew was already gone for the day.

“’Drew,” He cleared his throat. “Andrew!”

“What’s up, Justin? Wow, you look terrible. Are you sick?”

“Yeah. I think so. Do we have a thermometer?” Justin was shivering uncontrollably.

“I don’t know. Let me go find out. I’ll be right back.” Andrew took the duvet off his bed and added it on top of Justin’s blankets.

He came back ten minutes later with a thermometer, a bottle of Tylenol, some fresh squeezed orange juice, a hot water bottle and Lilah. Justin felt so grateful he could have cried.

His temperature was 102.4. He took 1000mg of Tylenol with his orange juice, curled around the hot water bottle, and accepted Lilah’s offer of calling Sam for him. He could not believe this was happening. He was never sick.

Lilah came back to tell him Sam had said to take it easy, that they were going to have to do without him in two days anyway, so that they might as well start getting used to it.

She opened his window a sliver. “Letting the bad air out and the good air in” she said, then told him to go back to sleep and installed herself comfortably on Andrew’s bed, having added her own pillows to his, with the appearance of someone preparing to stay for a while.

“What are you doing?” asked Justin.

“Go to sleep. I’m nursing you. I’ll be right here if you need anything. OK?”

Justin actually chuckled. “You’re nuts,” he said. “I don’t need you to nurse me. Don’t you have classes?”

“Justin, it’s final’s week. I have a test at eleven. So shut up, let me review and go to sleep.”

Justin smiled, and did just that.

The next time he woke up, it was to the feeling of a cool hand on his hot forehead. He opened his eyes, and thought he was hallucinating. Jessica Hammon was sitting by his bed, a book on her lap.

“I’m sorry to wake you, Justin,” she said, “but we need to get some fluids into you.”

She handed him a huge glass of ice water with a straw, and Justin decided to drink first, and talk later. The cold water felt like heaven. He was really, really thirsty. He had finished drinking, and was about to ask her what in the name of heaven she was doing there, when he started shivering uncontrollably again.

She smiled. “Perfect,” she said, and brought forth a bowl of steaming chicken soup.

“This, Justin, is Rivka Goldfarb’s chicken soup recipe. She was my grandmother. It cures all, from typhus, to scarlet fever, to hemorrhoids. Eat up.”

The soup was really tasty, and warmed him up again. He ate the whole bowl. Halfway through, he asked how Jessica came to be at his bedside.

“Jason called here earlier, hoping to get your phone number at work. He wants to track down all the pieces you’ve sold, and needed the number of the gallery in LA. Lilah told him you were sick. She asked him if he knew a good recipe for chicken soup.”

“Why would she ask him that?”

“Justin, she’s Jewish. Jason’s Jewish. She couldn’t get hold of her mom for her recipe. It was a perfectly natural thing to ask.”

“How did she know he was Jewish?”

She smiled at him indulgently, as if that had been a silly question that did not even rate an answer. “So of course, Jason called me, because Rivka’s soup is the best. And Lilah had to go take a test, and I have a cook. So here I am, with the best chicken soup in the world. And you’ll be on your feet by morning!”

She smiled at him. “Now finish your soup, and go back to sleep.”

Knowing a good idea when he heard one, he did just that.

The next two times he woke, Lilah was there to hand him first the tall glass of water, then the steaming bowl of soup. That second time, around five, he had to pee really badly. She told him to take a shower while he was at it, and he was astonished that he could get up and do so, only feeling a little weak kneed. When he got back, she had aired the room and changed his sheets and when he slid back in bed, it felt wonderful. He finished his soup, and went back to sleep, his faith in Jewish medicine now absolute.

When he woke up again, Brian Kinney was sitting on Andrew’s bed, working on his laptop.

“Brian?”

Brian looked up, smiled, got up, and handed him the tall glass of ice water.

“I didn’t know you were Jewish,” joked Justin when Brian followed the glass of water with yet another bowl of chicken soup.

“Irish Catholic. I’m just following the doctor’s order. And I have a vested interest in your rapid recovery.”

Justin grinned at him.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Taylor. I want you on your feet and at work tomorrow.”

“OK,” said Justin eating his soup.

“AND I want you on your back and in my bed, but that comes later…” It was Brian’s turn to grin.

Justin felt himself blush, and cursed his fair skin. Brian gave him a knowing smile, and slid his hand under the covers from the side, finding his swelling cock with unerring precision.

As Justin kept eating, pretending not to care, Brian freed his cock from his underwear, and started to slowly jerk him off.

“Hmmm…” Justin’s pretense at indifference was crumbling, but when Brian looked at him smugly, he added, “This soup is really delicious…”

That earned him a sudden accelerating of Brian’s stroking. Justin put the empty bowl on the night table, almost missing it, and lay back down, arching involuntarily into Brian’s hand. God help him, he was already on the edge. He closed his eyes, and tried to hold off his orgasm as long as possible, biting his lower lip.

“Come for me, Justin,” said Brian, and that was all it took. Justin’s body trembled, and he came, messing up his nice clean sheets.

“You are so easy,” said Brian, kissing his forehead.

“I’m weakened by illness,” replied Justin, smiling.

“I like it,” said Brian, against his lips, ignoring his feeble excuse. “How many times do you think I can make you come in one night, Justin?” He brushed Justin’s lips with his own, then traced the lower one with his tongue. He tucked Justin back into his underwear, and sat back on Andrew’s bed. “Go back to sleep, Justin.” And happily, Justin did.
 

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