~*~

Anon sips from his cranberry juice cup while mine sits untouched on a bedside tray. I watch him as he drinks, every motion of his arm and lips, and see how the tube attached to him curves to mimmic his motions. In the quiet, the beeping beside me has gotten louder and louder in my head, until I believe I can feel my own heart beating in time with it. The smile I've plastered onto my face isn't a fake one, and it isn't one I've put on just for show. It's a nervous one, one that, if you looked close enough, would show a strangled fear rather than soft joy.

But I've been quiet too long for this to be a normal pause. Anon sets down the cranberry juice next to the bed and cocks an eyebrow at me in obvious concern. Perceptive as ever.

"Something wrong?" he asks. "If you're fretting about the food or drink, I promise it's all fine."

I shake my head.

"No, no... it's just..."

I search for words. The sentiment I have to share is so simple and concise, but it feels like it doesn't say everything I'm feeling. It lacks the nuances of this series of emotions I can't seem to whip into line. I try to work my way over to it more gradually.

"Anon, when I'm with you, I think about how lively you are. How your eyes light up, how your lips move when you talk. I focus on the muscle twitches, the lines in your face and around your smile. I pay attention to the warmth in your body and words. To the heat from your skin. And I think about you just in that moment rather than in any hypothetical state. I try not to think about... about..."

The words won't come. I try another pass.

"When I see you in the hospital, it's hard. Because I can see everything that could go wrong, every dial, every blinking light, every vital sign. And I can't help thinking that if I look too long, one of them is just going to stop. Go silent. Go still. When I see you like this, I can see a future you, a possible you, a different version of you that..."

At last, it punches out of me in the softest, most cracked whisper.

"I don't want you to die."

We're both silent, and I let my chin drop to my chest. I shut my eyes and try to block out the tears or shouts of frustration that I hear echoing in my head. Damn it, I was going to try to not worry about him. This is why he didn't want me to come here in the first place. I was going to try to forget where he was. I was determined to tell him that we were going to pretend we weren't in a hospital. I was going to promise that I wouldn't talk about our mortality. That I'd just focus on us both being alive. But I realized, when I saw him like that in the hospital bed, that I couldn't. Because I'd never once just told him that sentence, straight out. I'd never let him know. And it is absolutely a thing someone you love deserves to know.

I can feel his eyes burning into me, but I'm afraid that if I meet them I'll just fall apart. And I'm not ready to give into that just yet. Not yet.

"I don't want to die," I hear him say softly.

"Then don't."

"If I can help it, I won't. I can try."

"I want you to promise," I say, knowing that he can't. But some part of me really believes that if he promises, it won't happen. He'd never break a promise to me. "Swear you won't."

"I can't do that. The same as you can't," he says with all the gentleness of a distant breeze. "But I can promise I'll try my best. And that I'll take care of myself, I'll try to stay as long as I possibly can. Is that enough?"

It's not. It'll never be enough, not ever. But it's apparently what I needed to hear, because the lump in the back of my mouth begins to travel gradually down my throat towards my stomach. I open my eyes and look at him sternly.

"I'll hold you to that."

"I hope you do," he says, then hesitates as if there's more to say. "I don't want either of us to die. So you'd better take care of yourself too."

I shut my eyes once more and give him a solemn nod. I breathe in sharply and swallow my tears, so that when I open my eyes again, they feel scratchy, but at least not watery.

"I will," I say. "If I can figure out a way to live forever, I promise I will. But only because you asked."

"As long as you share the secret with me."

"What'll you give me for it? Hm?" I say, attempting a joke.

In response, he reaches out his hand and takes my hoof, then draws me closer to him. Without saying a word, he closes his arms around me in a tight hug, pressing his face against my shoulder. I feel the breath through his nose weave its way into my fur as he holds me there. The feeling of his heart beat mirrors the beeping around us.

"An eternity of hugs," he says into my neck. "You said you'd never get sick of them."

I choke down tears as they try to resurface, and kiss the side of his head over and over again with light, brushing lip strokes. His hair smells heavenly, even after days in the hospital. It smells like home. Our home.

"I love you," I murmur against his sweet, soft hair. "I love you so much, and I'm glad you're still alive and you didn't get pneumonia from an old lady down the hall and die."

I feel him laugh in surprise.

"I love you too. But... what?"

"My brain gets specific sometimes."

"Well, I'm glad I'm alive too," he says with a sigh as he rubs his hand up and down the center of my back. "And that you're alive. I just... want to enjoy that right now. Can we do that? Just both be here, and alive and together and happy?"

I nod vigorously, and lean back away from him.

"Absolutely."

My lips are already curling into a smile as the gap between our faces dissolves into a kiss. It feels like, with that touch, a heavy burden has been pushed off of my neck and back, replaced by a prickle of excitement. The feeling resonates all the way down my spine to far more personal parts of me. We break the kiss slowly, and I feel his taste still lingering there. He smiles at me, in a nearly smug way.

"So," he says, tone far lighter, "you decided to recreate our first real date?"

I shrug.

"Well, yeah," I mumble, "I wanted to do something you'd find comforting and would make you smile. I remember that date being... very comfortable."

His smile deepens.

"Aw, well aren't you sweet."

I can't help the blush that spreads across my nose and face. I glance away from him, trying my best to show nothing but indignance.

"No you."

"No, definitely you. You're very sweet to me."

"Well... I can't help it, you're very lovable."

"That's adorable."

"Keep it up and I'll break out the pet names again."

He laughs and holds his hands up in front of him in defeat.

"Fine fine, I get it," he says with a grin. "Though I really do appreciate the thought, it's a very nice one. Although..."

His pause there makes my ears prick and I turn to him. It sounds like he has some criticism he's holding back, some complaint. My stomach sinks a little until I spot the fact that he's still smiling. Now this feels like some kind of trap, but I can't help but take the bait.

"...although?"

His eyes gleam. He knows he has me.

"I remember our first date not exactly being all about the picnic."

I feel the blush return, much hotter this time. Instantly my mind is filled with images and memories of specific sensations. The way he looked down at me, lips parted, breathing heavily. The impact of his hips against my inner thighs. The heat of his chest under my hooves, the way he gripped me by my shoulders and waist. The feeling of being full of him, in every sense of the word.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling exposed. I know he can tell that I'm remembering all this and that he's planted these thoughts intentionally. He's not exactly propositioning me in exact words, but with the intent, he might as well be. I glance up at him and now I'm smiling too. There should be a witty remark, a wilting lustful reply ready to release from me. It's how we work, it's what he expects of me. With my showing up in the hospital, though, I'm more up for unexpected today.

Before he or I can say a word, I throw my body towards him and seal his mouth shut with my own. I feel a wordless exclamation of surprise vibrate against my lower lip, but then his arms are around me again. My actions may have been unexpected, but it's obvious how much they were wanted. He pulls my body hard against him, until I'm almost bent over on the hospital bed above him with my weight pressing down. His hands quickly move down my back towards my rear, trying to position me over him better, trying to push specific parts of me against specific parts of him. I thrust forward, telling him I want this too, urging him onwards.

All at once, there is a barrage of beeping from the surrounding machines. I launch myself back away from him, and the beeping gradually begins to fade. The look of frustration and amusement that fluctuates in his expression is almost comical.

"Shit," he mutters. "I sort of forgot about those for a second."

"Oh, am I really that exciting?" I say with a smirk.

"Apparently."

I laugh lightly, but it ends in a sigh of my own frustration.

"So," I say. "That doesn't seem like it's going to work. If every time your heart rate goes up, it all just... explodes like fireworks."

I gesture broadly at the machines around us, which have now resumed a natural rhythm. He merely nods to show he agrees.

"They do pose a problem, yeah. If any of it gets too high, it alerts the front nurse's desk, and then this place will be swarming with doctors. Could probably also fuck up my test results if it goes to high. Land me in here for extra days."

"I certainly don't want that."

"Nor I. So..." he sighs heavily, "I guess that's that."

For an instant, I think he's right and that this part of the date will be a bust. It wasn't planned, but once the prospect of being intimate came up, I was nothing but ready for it. It's a disappointment, probably for both of us. But then a devious little idea occurs to me, and I don't even try to fight the grin that sweeps over my face. Anon notices, and turns his head slightly to give me a suspicious eye.

"What is it?" he asks.

I'm once more eager to surprise him, and I give a rumbling little laugh in my throat rather than outright replying. I move towards him again, running my hooves up his chest until they rest on the monitor in the center.

"You said all this only went bad if your vitals got too high, right?" I practically purr, tapping one hoof against the device.

He hesitates, then nods. I think I can see some flicker of understanding there.

"Yes, I did say that, but..."

He goes silent as my hooves run down his chest again, then pass longingly over the quickly hardening lump between his legs under the blankets. I hear him take in an abrupt breath as my hoof lingers there and I feel him twitch in response to my touch. The monitors pick up their pace just a notch or two.

"Well then," I croon to him as I lean forward. "You'd better focus on not getting too worked up, right? Don't want you to strain yourself."

By his expression, I'm now quite sure he understands. His hands rise from the sheet, allowing me to tug it down away from his torso. As I do, he moves to place himself more squarely in the center of the mattress, and I hoist my body up next to him. I lean over and plant a brief kiss against his lips, then another on his chin, then on his neck, then down to where the hospital gown meets his chest. I feel an echo of a sigh in his throat as my lips continue to trail downwards. The monitors beep faster for an instant, and then as he sighs out they slow again. I can already tell this isn't going to be easy for him.

I use my mouth to grip the edge of the sheet, then drag it gradually lower until I find the edge of where the hospital gown ends. A portion of the gown is raised, and continuing to grow as I move, and I find it difficult to take my eyes off of it. I'm just hoping that I won't drool on the gown as I release the sheet from my teeth, and again look up at his face. His expression is one of eager wonder, as if he's still afraid I might change my mind and stop.

My mischievous grin is surely giving away how much I'm enjoying this, but I take my time sliding my hooves back up against the gown until his cock is exposed. I glance at it only a moment before my eyes close and I press my tongue against the underside in one long, slow stroke. When he sighs this time, there's a soft moaning sound to it. Another beeping spike, and I open my eyes and pull my tongue away. He looks down at me pleadingly as I stop licking, but we're both smiling at each other. I know how much he likes to be teased.

I hold a hoof to my lips, signaling for him to be quiet.

"Wouldn't want to call the doctors, would you?" I whisper.

He breathes slowly, obviously calming himself, then nods that he's ready again. I lower my head once more, and again run my tongue along the underside, from base to tip. I flick my tongue as I reach the end, giving it an added little pressure as I do. I feel his cock flinch, but he doesn't make a noise. It's almost a challenge for me too, I realize. I need him to be quiet and calm, but at the same time part of me wants to force him to moan, make it impossible to stay silent. It's a very fine line for me to walk.

Taking a slow breath in, I lower my mouth over the length of him. I feel it pulse against my tongue as I move up and down, squeezing with my lips as I go. I run my tongue over the sides, lingering at the head as I draw him deeper into my mouth with each rise and fall. His legs tense under my hooves as I go up and down and lick aggressively, matching the twitching in his member. I let out a soft moan, hoping he can feel how much I want him through the eagerness in my voice. As fun as this is, I won't be doing it for long. I have much more direct plans in mind.

I moan again, and he shudders under me. It must take so much effort to stay relaxed as I work him over. I hope he's able to handle the next part too.

As I pull away from him, I can again see how pleading his expression is. It feels so good to know he wants me, to know that I can please him and enjoy this level of intimacy with him. We've been physically intimate almost since we met, but this is a different sort of intimacy. This playfulness, this desperate desire to feel someone as close to you as is possible. It's like everything just clicks into place and become natural. Even with me playing the tease, even with him trying to keep his cool, these actions feel like second nature. As if this is how we're supposed to be.

Keeping my eyes locked with his, I lick the wetness off my lips, and sit upright. With great care not to catch any wires or tubes, I move myself above him, straddling his form as he lies back on the bed. He moves his hands to support my legs as I raise myself up and steady my front hooves against his shoulders. Then, I spread my legs above his erection, and I feel the air of the room growing cold against my wet opening. I'm surprised I'm not actively dripping on him at this point.

I stay there, poised above, waiting and watching his face. I want this, I want it so much it aches, but I want to hear him ask for it. I want to see his face plead me to fuck him, to crave me so much that he begs to be inside me. We look at each other, caught in that moment, and at last he smiles and nods at me. That yes, he wants this as much as I do. His lips part, and he wets them with his tongue.

"Please," he whispers.

It's like the word pulls a trigger in my head.

I quickly lower my body, and his cock slides into me with a soft sucking sound. It's so abrupt that he lets out a breathy noise of pleasure, then takes in a slow breath between pursed lips as the machines beep more urgently. I stay still as he pulses within me, wrestling with his own heart and breathing rate until they steady.

It's everything I can do not to buck my hips hard against him, he feels so amazing. I want to fuck him relentlessly, plunge him in and out of me with complete abandon. But I too have to keep myself steady, have to not go too fast or be too aggressive. Instead, I take a deep breath and raise myself towards the tip of his dick as I do in a slow stroke. I feel my muscles shuddering, urging me to go more quickly, but I resist. I'm going to pleasure us together, slowly, gently. Our circumstances will act as a tease for both of us.

I feel my body pulling at him, wanting to keep him inside me with each onslaught and retreat. He's so hard inside me, so solid and foreign against my raw flesh. It's intoxicating. He twitches his hips upwards against me as I rise and fall in minute thrusts, and they cause me to convulse from my knees up to my stomach every time. I bite down on my lower lip to stifle a moan as one thrust is a little harder than the others. There's a small spike of pain that echoes in my pelvis, the exact kind I love. I breathe heavily, pawing at his shoulders and chest like I need a better handhold, or else I might slip over the edge into impulse and desperation.

His hands find their way up my legs to my waist, and he helps me move up and down, grinding forwards and back slightly as I come down to envelop him completely. His mouth is open just slightly, and I can hear his breathing getting ragged with effort. On top of that, his eyes flick from my face to my chest, to that point where our hips meet with each stroke. It's like he can't get enough of me, and he's memorizing every detail. I hope I'm giving him a pretty picture, and I meet his eyes briefly with a look that cries out for him in a way my lips can't.

Imperceptibly, I pick up the pace, just enough where there's a quiet sound of our slick bodies sliding against one another. He urges me on with a gentle pressure from his fingers and palms. As my body moves up, he pushes me. As my body comes down, he pulls me so that I feel him penetrating to the deepest parts of me, all the way to the back. I stifle a whimper against my teeth where they bite my lip, as the lovely pain spikes in me again. It's true that I feel connected to him like this, I feel like parts of us are entwining into one. I was so lonely only a few hours ago, so afraid. But now? Now there's only us, only his body and mine, our lives weaving together into a strange, broken tapestry. It's everything I want in one, simple sensation. I feel him inside me, in more ways than one.

Around us, the machines pick up their pace as well with more erratic beeps. They begin to speed up, and I watch him close his eyes and take slow breaths. They abate again, but barely. I stop taking such a strenuous pace myself, and they subside once more. It's a balancing act with me impaled there on him. I want to please him, want to get him off, want to make him scream my name if I can manage it. But there are limitations.

"Can you cum like this?" I murmur, almost a whisper.

He nods fervently.

"Yes, keep going," he breathes.

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

Gradually, I resume a rhythm, watching the readout on a nearby monitor as I do. If it starts to spike, I slow down. If it get slow enough I can go harder, faster. Under me, the twitch in his hips has become an earnest thrust. I can feel how much he wants me, how difficult it is for him to keep himself from going overboard and making his heart absolutely race. He closes his eyes to breathe, focus, concentrate on staying calm. But I never feel him grow soft inside me, not once. Instead I feel the throbbing within me growing in intensity.

I also feel a tightening in me, an itching ache between my legs. I can feel my body wanting to draw him deeper and deeper, hold him there and never release until he does inside me. Even though I'm not saying anything, I'm begging with my body for him to fill me with his cum. As his thrusts get more vigorous, I feel that plea may soon be answered by both of us.

"Berry," he whispers urgently. "I think, I... I'm going to..."

The machines begin to warn us that we've gotten out of hand, and I see his face strain as he tries to keep himself composed. But I also know it's too late. He's reaching the point where he can't turn back, can't hold it in anymore. And that very thought drives me close to the edge too. I teeter there, trying to maintain balance, and failing.

"Cum for me," I whisper. It's more of an appeal than a demand. "Cum in me, make me yours."

My words seem to set off a bomb inside him, and he grabs my waist tightly. His thrusts are fewer, but harder, done with a driving intent behind them. He wants me, he wants every part of me, my mind, body soul, sickness... all of it. I can feel it. And I can feel that he's going to give himself to me as well.

His mouth opens in a wordless cry, and his head tips back as I buck and grind against him so he doesn't have to move as much. I feel his cock inside me strain against how tight I am, and his wanting me sends my body reeling. He breathes in sharply, holds it, and there's a moment where we're both silent, and the warning sounds around us spikes loudly. Then, he lets out a breathy groan, and I feel a warmth filling me from the inside.

His pleasure, his release, his effort, it all hits me in my brain and body at once. I whimper loudly and toss my hips against him in a few quick thrusts, and that's all it takes for me to fall as well. His name rolls through my mouth as my body clenches, releases, and every muscle in me trembles. I shut my eyes and just feel him inside me, feel his seed, feel his flesh and mine working with and against each other... and then I collapse.

I let my body drape across him like a blanket, both of our forms shuddering and tattered. He folds one arm across my back protectively and kisses the top of my head between panting gasps. There, I feel so small, so vulnerable. But I'm not afraid. He has me, and I'm safe. We're both okay. For a moment, we're just there, together, and happy. Just as he asked for us to be.

I can hear the machines around us plaintively going back to normal. I have no doubt that we nearly went too far, that we may have actually gone above the limit near the end there. But nothing is making emergency noises, and there are no nurses or doctors rushing in. It seems for the moment, we've gotten away with our little game, and there's a sense of victory in that. Like we've pulled off some crime together. From my place across his spent body, with him still inside me, I look up into his face. He smiles down at me, and I grin weakly back.

"Hi," I say in a near whine.

"Hi," he says, relieved laughter in his tone. "So... thanks for that."

"Hey, I had to make it more authentically like our first date, didn't I?"

He laughs in earnest, and the rumble of it under my body feels like a miniature earthquake.

"I'm not complaining."

We're both silent as I move so he slips out of me, our mutual pleasure leaving glossy stains on the sheets and his hospital gown. Then, after a moment he strokes my mane and kisses my cheek.

"I love you, Berry," he says gently, like it's a lullaby. "And I'm so glad you came to see me today. I'm... glad you didn't wait."

With all the emotions flowing through me as I roll off of him and curl into his side, it's hard not to cry. To laugh. To scream out all the feelings that I can't push down. But I can funnel them all into my voice, just enough to say my next words.

"I love you too."

This all feels... right. Even lying there beside him in a hospital bed, even wreathed in wires and monitoring machines. Even with beeping echoing in the room that now smells like sweat and desire. Even in this place of illness and death, I feel suddenly so alive. With him there beside me, anywhere feels like a place I belong.

With him, I feel I'm home.

-END-

Author's Note

Home is where the heart is, and sometimes the heart isn't just in a location somewhere on a map. Sometimes people can be your home. A hug can be. A kiss. A smile. Wherever you're happy, at peace, safe, content... please remember that place is your home, often more than your house, and don't stay away from it too long.
Be well, be happy.

I love you.

-Pencil.