She licks her lips, hesitating. "I can't hold the blanket up." She moves the rounded mitts of her hands.
"Like I haven't seen breasts before? I washed you earlier, remember?"
"I know," Sophie says in a small voice. "I just feel weird about this. Like I'm shoving my nudity on you."
"You aren't. Don't feel weird, okay? I know if you were feeling better you wouldn't show me, so don't worry about it. I'm not going to grab my cock to the sight of some bare skin. Give me a little credit."
Her cheeks flush and she tries to sit up, using her elbows. It makes her fascinatingly quiver-y breasts shudder as she does, and I avert my gaze, putting a hand to her back to help her up. "I guess human bodies probably seem weird to you, huh?"
"Hideous," I joke, but it sounds flat even to my own ears. I pull the tunic over her head as if she's a child and carefully pull her arms through. "You hungry?"
A look of horror crosses her face. "You're going to have to feed me, aren't you?"
"Unless you feel like shoving your face into a bowl of noodles."
She appears to consider it for a moment. "I…could eat a dry one. Or a ration bar. Do you have any of those?"
"No." I don't keep the keffing things around because they remind me of my time in the military, when we ate ration bars day in and day out. "And the noodles are already made."
"I'm so sorry to be such a pain, Jerrok. I feel terrible." She hangs her head. "I know it's a huge inconvenience."
She's so full of apologies, she's making me feel like a damned monster. Meanwhile, all I can think about is that I get to touch her for the next few days. I get to brush my fingers over her skin every chance I can. I get to have her in my bed so I can look after her. I get to bathe her.
It makes me the worst kind of male for even thinking such things, doesn't it?32SOPHIEEverything hurts.
The dull, throbbing pain in my hands feels like it's spread to the rest of my limbs, and no matter what I do, I can't tune it out. It wakes me up out of my sleep, leaving me whimpering and restless.
"Shhh," comes a familiar, warm voice. A hand touches my shoulder. "Drink this."
Jerrok. I open my eyes and give him a woeful smile. "I'm a huge pain in the ass today, aren't I?"
"The worst," he agrees, but his words have no bite. He helps me sit up, and this time, I ignore the blanket that falls around my waist. Who cares if I'm showing my tits to the universe? My hands hurt too badly to give a shit. He tilts a cup to my lips, and when I realize the liquid's hot, I try to pull away. "No," he insists. "Drink it. It's going to taste like ooli sweat, but it'll help things."
I sip it and grimace. "What is it?"
"Just a bit of cell stimulant to help the healing along…mixed with a bit of alcohol so you'll forget how bad it tastes." He props me against his shoulder. "I'm sorry you hurt so badly." He awkwardly pulls the blanket over me, trying to cover up all my naked parts. "I didn't realize your hands were that bad."
"Neither did I." I lean against him, because it's comforting that someone's taking care of me. It's nice to be able to whine about how much I hurt and not expect a slap across the mouth for speaking up. It's nice to lean against someone, and when he rubs my shoulder gently, I want to cry with how…kind it is. "Thank you, Jerrok."
"For?"
"Everything." I turn ever so slightly, trying to look at him, and I just end up sticking my nose against his throat. His scent hits me, one part mesakkah, one part male musk, and just a hint of machine oil. It's comforting, and I take a deep breath, and somehow I feel a little better.
I wait for him to push me away, but he seems content to just hold me, and it's the nicest. I close my eyes and rest against him, trying to ignore everything but his warm, solid presence. Of course, my bladder has to make its presence known, and I fight back a sigh of frustration, because I know that's something I can't handle on my own. "I have to pee."
He doesn't make a face or tease me about it. He just helps me up and tends to my business, and I'm utterly grateful that there's no humiliation in it. He's just helping me out. I think about his prosthetics, and how hurt he must have been while his limbs healed. Someone helped him once; he's being kind by just passing it along.