Free Strung by Bella Costa Page B

reptiles from the rest of the animal kingdom.  Cute instils feelings of protectiveness in us.  It is the lack of cuteness, which explains why reptiles do not nurture their young, apparently.  Right now, I just want to gather this adorable creature into my arms, soothe his troubles away and make everything all right.  No chance! 
    "This wasn't quite what I meant, when I sent to you bed! ”  I complain waking him up.  He cannot sleep in those jeans, but he does not look in any condition to take them off himself.  Well he will just have to.  I have limits.
    "Chayton, stand up please."  I rest on my crutches, waiting as he struggles up.   "Jeans off!" I order.  While he struggles with his jeans, I try not to look, but can't help notice his beautiful toned legs and the tightness of his butt cheeks as the muscles move under his boxers.  I am definitely hormonal.  I would not normally notice these things – well not in full Technicolor.  If I did, it would be a brief 'that's nice' and I would be able to push the thought out of my head.  Now, with this man, it is all I can think about.  I just can't get the frustrating thoughts out of my head.
    I fold down the covers of his bed.  When he is down to t-shirt and shorts, I gently push him onto the bed and fold the blanket over him.  I give the bucket a quick rinse in the en-suite bathroom before setting it back on the floor within his reach.  His neck has swollen a little more and I suspect it could still get worse.
    "Do you think you could keep soup down?" 
    "Uh-uh." 
    "Very eloquent Chayton.  I'll go and make some , just in case.  Get some sleep in the mean time."
    I head to the kitchen.  The crutches are going to make life very complicated.  I ditch one of them to free a hand and search out some ingredients for a wholesome homemade soup.  I will make a large batch and keep it in the fridge.  Yes, that is what I will do.  It can be warmed up as needed, over the next few days.  Soon I have a neat little production line going.  Peeling and chopping, reaching over to the sink to wash on my left and dumping in the pot on my right.  It is not long before I have the pot simmering away happily and my nose is back in my book.  
    I am putting the final touches to the soup and it is already getting dark when I hear noise down the corridor.  I head off in that direction to see what's up.
    Chayton is lying in his bed, drenched in sweat, with the blanket pulled up to his chin.  This is not good.   A high temperature is normal but I do not need a thermometer to know he has a raging fever.  I need to try to bring his temperature down and his drinking water is finished.
    Hobbling, with one crutch to the bathroom, I turn on the shower and adjust the temperature to lukewarm, I find a glass on the vanity and fill it will cool water from the sink and head back to the bedroom.
    "Chayton, sit up."  He moans and tucks himself into the blankets tighter.  "Come on, up you get," I order firmly.
    I gently tug the blankets and sheets and reluctantly he lets go.  He sits up, hugging himself tightly, his teeth chattering.  Shit the sheets are soaked through.  I pass him the glass of water and wait until he's polished it off.  He is obviously thirsty, hardly surprising given how much he has been sweating but I can tell he is also struggling to swallow. 
    "Come on, get up.  I need to get you into the shower."  Shivering , he climbs out of bed, and shuffles to the bathroom with me following close behind.
    "Chayton, get under the shower and stay there.  Do not adjust the water temperature!  I'm going to change your sheets and find you something dry to sleep in."  I watch as he walks in clothes and all.  Oh well, his clothes were drenched anyway.
    I find some dry bedding in the blanket chest at the end of the bed and lay a towel under the base sheet so the mattress does not soak up too much sweat.  I spy an overnight bag on a chair next to the bed and find a fresh