[FIC] In Sickness and In Health
This was mainly me procrastinating and avoiding working on the artz/fic/other stuff I should be doing >.>;;
Title: In Sickness and In Health
Pairings: Piper/Trickster
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There's a nasty bug going around, so of course SOMEONE has to play doctor...
Sometimes, Hartley really hated being made to play ‘doctor’.
Or, rather, ‘nurse’ as Digger preferred to call it. Piper was the only one out in the whole group who had any real medical knowledge, irrespective of the fact it had mostly been learnt from medical journals he’d read while in jail. He had no real interest in conventional medicine; the musician was far more intrigued by other, less practical applications of the art, such as cybernetic implants and body modifications. He’d tried to explain to Len that he wasn’t really a doctor, and maybe they should find someone who was, but the Captain had merely thrown him a scathing look and told him to ‘do his damn job’.
So here he was, running around after eight sick Rogues. Something nasty had been going around Central City and Keystone, even reaching as far as Gotham if the news reports were to be believed. It was highly contagious, caused sickness and flu-like symptoms, and lasted for at least a week. So, naturally, every single one of them had managed to catch it. Except Hartley, for some reason, who felt absolutely fine if a little tired.
It had been three days so far since Mick had come home complaining of a headache. The pyro was now flat on his back, his room plunged into perpetual blackness, and dosed up on the highest strength painkillers Piper could find without sending the large man into cardiac arrest. It was unpleasant, but Mick’s migraine wasn’t going to kill him, and Hartley made sure to keep him dosed up and well hydrated. Other than that, Heatwave mostly wanted to be left alone.
Digger had been the next to succumb to the illness, closely followed by Sam. They blamed the fact that they had to share a room, though Piper wasn’t so sure that was the only reason they’d gotten sick at the same time, but to voice his theory out loud would be to gain a black eye and a broken jaw, so he kept quiet. They were both a bit sniffly and pathetic, Sam complaining constantly that he was ‘dying’ and arguing with his roommate. Their argument had quickly turned into lewd comments when Hartley had arrived to check up on them, stethoscope in hand, and Digger had started calling him ‘nurse’. Sam hadn’t stopped asking why he wasn’t wearing a nurse’s outfit since.
Roscoe had fallen ill next, and for a day or so had been tended by a frantic Lisa, until she too had been forced to take to her bed. Well, to their bed, since the two couldn’t bear to be separated. Hartley had rolled his eyes at that, but hadn’t said anything for fear of Lisa’s wrath; the woman was scary when she was angry! He’d ignored most of the blonde’s requests, much to her annoyance, and had demanded that the pair eat the soup he’d prepared for them, drink plenty of fluids and, above all, sleep. Doctor’s orders.
Len had refused to admit that he was ill. Despite the perpetual sneezing, coughing and sickness, he kept on, even going to far as to attempt a small-scale bank robbery. Piper, in the end, had to follow the brunette in and drag him home again when he’d passed out in the vault.
By far the easiest patient of the bunch was Mark. The Wizard was quiet, calm and requested nothing more than a few new books to keep himself occupied, to which the musician was happy to oblige. It did annoy Piper, though, that even while streaming with cold, eyes puffy, nose reddened, the dark haired Rogue still managed to look impossibly gorgeous. It was thoroughly unfair! Still, at least being fairly plain in appearance meant Hartley could blend into a crowd effortlessly, which worked to his advantage when stealing the afore-mentioned books.
The final Rogue to fall sick was James. He’d managed to fight the illness off for two days longer than Mark had, helping Hartley with his rounds and stealing medicines for the redhead whenever he began to run low. It was nice, really, the two of them working together like that. Eventually though, even the tough blonde had fallen, confined to his bed like the others.
Hartley had completed his final run for the day, with only James still left to see. It was late, or rather it was early in the morning, and the Pied Piper was exhausted. Days of the same routine, of very little sleep and even less food, had started to take their toll on the slight redhead. He couldn’t wait to curl up in his own bed, just for a little while, gaining a precious few hours of rest before it all started again. He was thankful that the week was almost up and the others seemed to be, for the most part, recovering nicely.
Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. When he’d checked on the Trickster earlier in the day, the man had been sleeping, albeit fitfully. Now, the blonde was awake, eyes wide but not really tracking movement, sweat running from his body and harsh coughs ripping from his chest. James was sick, really sick, and Piper was sincerely worried for him.
“James, you awake?” Piper announced his presence as he entered the darkened room, not wanting to startle the other man. The blonde on the bed seemed to twitch at the sound of his voice, before rolling to look at Hartley. He had somehow managed to take up the entirety of his large double bed, the covers bunched around his legs.
"Hurts...” Trickster croaked, his voice hoarse, damaged from the coughing that didn’t seem to want to let up. Hartley placed the bottle of water he’d brought with him and his medical bag down, sitting on the bed so that he could help James to sit up. The blonde immediately wrapped his arms around Piper, burying his face into the musician’s neck and whimpering pathetically, his body hot and feverish.
“Here, I’ve got you some water, it should help a little.” Grabbing the bottle from the night stand, he unfastened the lid, pulling slightly at the Trickster’s clothing and twisting himself away to gain access to the blonde’s face, placing the neck of the bottle against those dried, parched lips. James drank eagerly, and had to be reminded more than once to slow down lest he make himself sick.
“Thanks...” The blonde Rogue finally gasped, letting Hartley place the bottle back down on the night stand after replacing the cap and watching blearily as the redhead rummaged around in his bag, finally pulling out a small brown bottle and a spoon. Pouring the vile-smelling liquid, he held the spoon out for James, who took the medicine obediently without complaint.
“That should make you feel a little better.” Piper returned the bottle and spoon to his bag, making a mental note to wash that later, and lowered the blonde gently back down onto the bed before tugging the covers up and moving to stand.
“Piper...don’t leave...don’t leave...” The blonde had gripped his sleeve, stopping the Piper from moving away. Despite his delirious state James still had a surprisingly solid grip, though his voice was little more than a whimper. Hartley found himself being tugged down onto the bed until he was parallel to the sick Rogue, James’ hand running up and down over his arm.
“I can’t stay here, James, I need to go to my own bed.” Hartley whimpered, as the hand that had been exploring his right arm moved down to ghost over his waist and finally rest on his hip. The blonde wasn’t really focusing on him, his eyes slightly dilated; it was almost as though James was looking right through him, into his very soul.
“Hartley...” The Piper blushed at the use of his real name as the Trickster wriggled closer. “Hartley, don’t leave...love you.” The redhead was shocked, gobsmacked, his face glowing almost as brightly as his hair. A gentle kiss was placed on his lips as the blonde leaned in. He didn’t kiss back, as that would be taking advantage, but he couldn’t pull away either. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and then - oh god, he was kissing back!
James tasted of medicine and sugar, an oddly sweet combination, and the moment of distraction gave the blonde the opportunity he needed to deepen the kiss, tongue tangling with the reluctant musician’s. Hartley couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan as the expert tongue claimed his mouth, exploring every crevice. The noise must have been taken as a sound of consent, as he quickly found himself on his back, pinned by a delirious Trickster, a knee pressed deliberately between his legs.
“J-James, you...you need to stop! You’ve no idea what you’re- oh God!” Trickster’s hand had, somehow, managed to find its way into Hartley’s pants and was now stroking his rapidly-hardening length, thumb ghosting over the slit to collect the pre-cum he knew would be gathering there. He could feel James’ own cock, hard and ready, pressed against his thigh and could do nothing but hold on to the other Rogue as teeth nipped at his neck and a talented tongue found that one spot that made him twitch.
It felt good. It was so very wrong to take advantage of the sick Trickster like this, but Hartley’s brain had stopped functioning and he was starting to care less and less about how wrong the act was and more about how right it felt. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about James like that before; who wouldn’t? The man was practically a wet dream on legs! But the musician had thought about most of the Rogues like that at one point or another, in private when he had nothing better to do, but that didn’t mean he actually wanted any of them, or that there was any chance they wanted him. But here he was, pinned under the enthusiastic blonde, receiving the best hand-job of his life and loving every second of it.
“Love you...” The air was suddenly painfully cold where James’ hot body had been, the hand gone from his cock as the blonde pushed himself away from the redhead. Hartley half hoped that he’d finally come to his senses, but no, the hand was soon back with its twin, yanking down his pants, leaving him bare to the world as the clothing was easily discarded on the floor. Trickster was back then, his own striped pyjama pants pushed down to reveal a rather large, reddened, glistening shaft standing proudly between his legs.
“Stop! S-stop, Tricks, please...” Hartley’s eyes went wide as he found himself pinned once again, a very large, very solid object pushing gently against his entrance. The tight ring of muscle twitched at the contact, opening obediently as the blonde began slowly pushing his way into the musician, lubricated only by the small amount of pre-cum that had been smeared over the head.
It hurt as the head popped into place, the redhead taking deep breaths and forcing himself to relax as much as he could while the Trickster forced his way in, slowly but steadily, until he was fully seated. The sensation of being stretched open, by James no less, was absolutely incredible and Hartley couldn’t help but whimper when the blonde finally moved, pulling out most of the way only to push carefully back in, the pace slow and leisurely.
“Hartley...so tight, feels good.” James moaned, before claiming the redhead’s lips in a bruising kiss as he increased his speed, the sound of quiet moans and skin slapping skin filling the room as Piper wrapped his legs around the Trickster and gave himself up to the sensations.
That large hand had found its way back to his neglected cock, jerking and tugging at it in time to their thrusts. James’ movements had started to become erratic, his breathing laboured and sweat dripping off his hair and the tip of his nose as he neared completion. A sudden well-aimed thrust sent stars shooting across Hartley’s vision as the blonde finally managed to hit his prostate, pleasured ripples shooting through his veins. The musician let loose a cry as it happened again, and again, until he couldn’t hold on any longer.
Hartley’s orgasm hit him hard, thick ribbons of cum splattering across his stomach and smearing against James, back arching and hands fisting in the displaced sheets as he threw his head back with a shout of pleasure. The rippling, clenching muscles around James’ cock clamped down, tugging at the blonde, tipping him over the edge as well. Trickster let out a keening wail as he came, eyes closed and mouth open, panting as he spilled his seed into Hartley, filling him to the brim before collapsing down on top of the smaller man, completely spent.
“Love you, Hartley.” James murmured, a happy smile on his face as he pulled out and curled around the redhead, quickly slipping off to sleep.
“Yeah, love you too James.” Hartley responded quietly, gently petting the blonde’s mussed up hair as he came down from his post-orgasmic high. Well, it had been unexpected, but it had also been highly enjoyable. Piper still felt slightly guilty for not stopping the other man, but the Trickster had instigated it and, even in his sickness-induced delirium, the man could be really quite persuasive.
Once he was completely sure the blonde wasn’t going to wake, Piper carefully untangled himself from the mess of limbs, wincing as a jolt of pain shot up his spine; he was certainly going to feel that in the morning! Hartley pulled the covers over the sleeping Trickster, who had started snoring softly in his new position, and tucked the taller man in before leaving the room in search of his own bed.
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“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” Hartley groaned, pulling the covers up over his head as the room was suddenly bathed in natural light, setting off a headache that felt like a jackhammer going in his brain. “Come on Piper, places to go, people to do!” James chirruped, hovering a few inches above the Piper’s prone form. “Hey, you alright man?”
Hartley’s only reply was a loud sneeze.
“Huh, guess you got sick after all.” James mused for a moment. “Ah well, I’ll let you know how the heist goes, see you later!” And with that, with no indication he remembered anything about the events of last night, the cheery and apparently fully-healed blonde was gone, along with every other Rogue in the safe house. Much as the silence was wonderful for his pounding head, it would have been nice for one of them to at least have fetched him a glass of water.
Hartley really hated having to play ‘doctor’. Most of all, though, he hated when he had to play it on his own.
Title: In Sickness and In Health
Pairings: Piper/Trickster
Rating: NC-17
Summary: There's a nasty bug going around, so of course SOMEONE has to play doctor...
Sometimes, Hartley really hated being made to play ‘doctor’.
Or, rather, ‘nurse’ as Digger preferred to call it. Piper was the only one out in the whole group who had any real medical knowledge, irrespective of the fact it had mostly been learnt from medical journals he’d read while in jail. He had no real interest in conventional medicine; the musician was far more intrigued by other, less practical applications of the art, such as cybernetic implants and body modifications. He’d tried to explain to Len that he wasn’t really a doctor, and maybe they should find someone who was, but the Captain had merely thrown him a scathing look and told him to ‘do his damn job’.
So here he was, running around after eight sick Rogues. Something nasty had been going around Central City and Keystone, even reaching as far as Gotham if the news reports were to be believed. It was highly contagious, caused sickness and flu-like symptoms, and lasted for at least a week. So, naturally, every single one of them had managed to catch it. Except Hartley, for some reason, who felt absolutely fine if a little tired.
It had been three days so far since Mick had come home complaining of a headache. The pyro was now flat on his back, his room plunged into perpetual blackness, and dosed up on the highest strength painkillers Piper could find without sending the large man into cardiac arrest. It was unpleasant, but Mick’s migraine wasn’t going to kill him, and Hartley made sure to keep him dosed up and well hydrated. Other than that, Heatwave mostly wanted to be left alone.
Digger had been the next to succumb to the illness, closely followed by Sam. They blamed the fact that they had to share a room, though Piper wasn’t so sure that was the only reason they’d gotten sick at the same time, but to voice his theory out loud would be to gain a black eye and a broken jaw, so he kept quiet. They were both a bit sniffly and pathetic, Sam complaining constantly that he was ‘dying’ and arguing with his roommate. Their argument had quickly turned into lewd comments when Hartley had arrived to check up on them, stethoscope in hand, and Digger had started calling him ‘nurse’. Sam hadn’t stopped asking why he wasn’t wearing a nurse’s outfit since.
Roscoe had fallen ill next, and for a day or so had been tended by a frantic Lisa, until she too had been forced to take to her bed. Well, to their bed, since the two couldn’t bear to be separated. Hartley had rolled his eyes at that, but hadn’t said anything for fear of Lisa’s wrath; the woman was scary when she was angry! He’d ignored most of the blonde’s requests, much to her annoyance, and had demanded that the pair eat the soup he’d prepared for them, drink plenty of fluids and, above all, sleep. Doctor’s orders.
Len had refused to admit that he was ill. Despite the perpetual sneezing, coughing and sickness, he kept on, even going to far as to attempt a small-scale bank robbery. Piper, in the end, had to follow the brunette in and drag him home again when he’d passed out in the vault.
By far the easiest patient of the bunch was Mark. The Wizard was quiet, calm and requested nothing more than a few new books to keep himself occupied, to which the musician was happy to oblige. It did annoy Piper, though, that even while streaming with cold, eyes puffy, nose reddened, the dark haired Rogue still managed to look impossibly gorgeous. It was thoroughly unfair! Still, at least being fairly plain in appearance meant Hartley could blend into a crowd effortlessly, which worked to his advantage when stealing the afore-mentioned books.
The final Rogue to fall sick was James. He’d managed to fight the illness off for two days longer than Mark had, helping Hartley with his rounds and stealing medicines for the redhead whenever he began to run low. It was nice, really, the two of them working together like that. Eventually though, even the tough blonde had fallen, confined to his bed like the others.
Hartley had completed his final run for the day, with only James still left to see. It was late, or rather it was early in the morning, and the Pied Piper was exhausted. Days of the same routine, of very little sleep and even less food, had started to take their toll on the slight redhead. He couldn’t wait to curl up in his own bed, just for a little while, gaining a precious few hours of rest before it all started again. He was thankful that the week was almost up and the others seemed to be, for the most part, recovering nicely.
Unfortunately, fate had other ideas. When he’d checked on the Trickster earlier in the day, the man had been sleeping, albeit fitfully. Now, the blonde was awake, eyes wide but not really tracking movement, sweat running from his body and harsh coughs ripping from his chest. James was sick, really sick, and Piper was sincerely worried for him.
“James, you awake?” Piper announced his presence as he entered the darkened room, not wanting to startle the other man. The blonde on the bed seemed to twitch at the sound of his voice, before rolling to look at Hartley. He had somehow managed to take up the entirety of his large double bed, the covers bunched around his legs.
"Hurts...” Trickster croaked, his voice hoarse, damaged from the coughing that didn’t seem to want to let up. Hartley placed the bottle of water he’d brought with him and his medical bag down, sitting on the bed so that he could help James to sit up. The blonde immediately wrapped his arms around Piper, burying his face into the musician’s neck and whimpering pathetically, his body hot and feverish.
“Here, I’ve got you some water, it should help a little.” Grabbing the bottle from the night stand, he unfastened the lid, pulling slightly at the Trickster’s clothing and twisting himself away to gain access to the blonde’s face, placing the neck of the bottle against those dried, parched lips. James drank eagerly, and had to be reminded more than once to slow down lest he make himself sick.
“Thanks...” The blonde Rogue finally gasped, letting Hartley place the bottle back down on the night stand after replacing the cap and watching blearily as the redhead rummaged around in his bag, finally pulling out a small brown bottle and a spoon. Pouring the vile-smelling liquid, he held the spoon out for James, who took the medicine obediently without complaint.
“That should make you feel a little better.” Piper returned the bottle and spoon to his bag, making a mental note to wash that later, and lowered the blonde gently back down onto the bed before tugging the covers up and moving to stand.
“Piper...don’t leave...don’t leave...” The blonde had gripped his sleeve, stopping the Piper from moving away. Despite his delirious state James still had a surprisingly solid grip, though his voice was little more than a whimper. Hartley found himself being tugged down onto the bed until he was parallel to the sick Rogue, James’ hand running up and down over his arm.
“I can’t stay here, James, I need to go to my own bed.” Hartley whimpered, as the hand that had been exploring his right arm moved down to ghost over his waist and finally rest on his hip. The blonde wasn’t really focusing on him, his eyes slightly dilated; it was almost as though James was looking right through him, into his very soul.
“Hartley...” The Piper blushed at the use of his real name as the Trickster wriggled closer. “Hartley, don’t leave...love you.” The redhead was shocked, gobsmacked, his face glowing almost as brightly as his hair. A gentle kiss was placed on his lips as the blonde leaned in. He didn’t kiss back, as that would be taking advantage, but he couldn’t pull away either. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and then - oh god, he was kissing back!
James tasted of medicine and sugar, an oddly sweet combination, and the moment of distraction gave the blonde the opportunity he needed to deepen the kiss, tongue tangling with the reluctant musician’s. Hartley couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan as the expert tongue claimed his mouth, exploring every crevice. The noise must have been taken as a sound of consent, as he quickly found himself on his back, pinned by a delirious Trickster, a knee pressed deliberately between his legs.
“J-James, you...you need to stop! You’ve no idea what you’re- oh God!” Trickster’s hand had, somehow, managed to find its way into Hartley’s pants and was now stroking his rapidly-hardening length, thumb ghosting over the slit to collect the pre-cum he knew would be gathering there. He could feel James’ own cock, hard and ready, pressed against his thigh and could do nothing but hold on to the other Rogue as teeth nipped at his neck and a talented tongue found that one spot that made him twitch.
It felt good. It was so very wrong to take advantage of the sick Trickster like this, but Hartley’s brain had stopped functioning and he was starting to care less and less about how wrong the act was and more about how right it felt. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about James like that before; who wouldn’t? The man was practically a wet dream on legs! But the musician had thought about most of the Rogues like that at one point or another, in private when he had nothing better to do, but that didn’t mean he actually wanted any of them, or that there was any chance they wanted him. But here he was, pinned under the enthusiastic blonde, receiving the best hand-job of his life and loving every second of it.
“Love you...” The air was suddenly painfully cold where James’ hot body had been, the hand gone from his cock as the blonde pushed himself away from the redhead. Hartley half hoped that he’d finally come to his senses, but no, the hand was soon back with its twin, yanking down his pants, leaving him bare to the world as the clothing was easily discarded on the floor. Trickster was back then, his own striped pyjama pants pushed down to reveal a rather large, reddened, glistening shaft standing proudly between his legs.
“Stop! S-stop, Tricks, please...” Hartley’s eyes went wide as he found himself pinned once again, a very large, very solid object pushing gently against his entrance. The tight ring of muscle twitched at the contact, opening obediently as the blonde began slowly pushing his way into the musician, lubricated only by the small amount of pre-cum that had been smeared over the head.
It hurt as the head popped into place, the redhead taking deep breaths and forcing himself to relax as much as he could while the Trickster forced his way in, slowly but steadily, until he was fully seated. The sensation of being stretched open, by James no less, was absolutely incredible and Hartley couldn’t help but whimper when the blonde finally moved, pulling out most of the way only to push carefully back in, the pace slow and leisurely.
“Hartley...so tight, feels good.” James moaned, before claiming the redhead’s lips in a bruising kiss as he increased his speed, the sound of quiet moans and skin slapping skin filling the room as Piper wrapped his legs around the Trickster and gave himself up to the sensations.
That large hand had found its way back to his neglected cock, jerking and tugging at it in time to their thrusts. James’ movements had started to become erratic, his breathing laboured and sweat dripping off his hair and the tip of his nose as he neared completion. A sudden well-aimed thrust sent stars shooting across Hartley’s vision as the blonde finally managed to hit his prostate, pleasured ripples shooting through his veins. The musician let loose a cry as it happened again, and again, until he couldn’t hold on any longer.
Hartley’s orgasm hit him hard, thick ribbons of cum splattering across his stomach and smearing against James, back arching and hands fisting in the displaced sheets as he threw his head back with a shout of pleasure. The rippling, clenching muscles around James’ cock clamped down, tugging at the blonde, tipping him over the edge as well. Trickster let out a keening wail as he came, eyes closed and mouth open, panting as he spilled his seed into Hartley, filling him to the brim before collapsing down on top of the smaller man, completely spent.
“Love you, Hartley.” James murmured, a happy smile on his face as he pulled out and curled around the redhead, quickly slipping off to sleep.
“Yeah, love you too James.” Hartley responded quietly, gently petting the blonde’s mussed up hair as he came down from his post-orgasmic high. Well, it had been unexpected, but it had also been highly enjoyable. Piper still felt slightly guilty for not stopping the other man, but the Trickster had instigated it and, even in his sickness-induced delirium, the man could be really quite persuasive.
Once he was completely sure the blonde wasn’t going to wake, Piper carefully untangled himself from the mess of limbs, wincing as a jolt of pain shot up his spine; he was certainly going to feel that in the morning! Hartley pulled the covers over the sleeping Trickster, who had started snoring softly in his new position, and tucked the taller man in before leaving the room in search of his own bed.
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“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” Hartley groaned, pulling the covers up over his head as the room was suddenly bathed in natural light, setting off a headache that felt like a jackhammer going in his brain. “Come on Piper, places to go, people to do!” James chirruped, hovering a few inches above the Piper’s prone form. “Hey, you alright man?”
Hartley’s only reply was a loud sneeze.
“Huh, guess you got sick after all.” James mused for a moment. “Ah well, I’ll let you know how the heist goes, see you later!” And with that, with no indication he remembered anything about the events of last night, the cheery and apparently fully-healed blonde was gone, along with every other Rogue in the safe house. Much as the silence was wonderful for his pounding head, it would have been nice for one of them to at least have fetched him a glass of water.
Hartley really hated having to play ‘doctor’. Most of all, though, he hated when he had to play it on his own.