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Mia swore under her breath as she sat on Ollie's bed, feeling the fever starting under her skin. She wasn't going to let this bug her. This was nothing.
It just was super unfair that she'd been the one to get hit with this thing.
Well. No. It wouldn't have been better for Ollie or Connor to get hit with it. It'd probably be a nightmare for Connor, actually. But it would have been best if none of them had gotten hit at all. Mia had been focusing on a difficult shot to knock a gun out of a guy's hand across the room— he'd been actively menacing one of the hostages with it— when she'd gotten sprayed with the spores. The incubation period was only an hour, so they'd had to finish up and rush her to Ollie's apartment, since her place was a few miles further out.
Now, while Ollie and Connor were taking decontamination showers, she was stuck dealing with the worst of it, having definitely inhaled the spores. She'd scrubbed herself off in Ollie's en suite real quick, and now she was stuck sitting on his bed wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers.
Maybe they'd have time to grab some of her stuff now that she was contained? But then that would have to be decontaminated later. Fuck.
"You still alive in there, kiddo?" Ollie's voice was clear, even through the door.
"Yeah, it's barely even doing anything!" Mia replied, letting herself fall backwards. She bounced as her back hit the bed. Her damp hair clung to her neck and spread out around her on the quilt.
"Well, I'll be back in fifteen. Me or Connor will be right outside if you need anything."
"Okay!"
She breathed out slowly, then inhaled. The bed smelled like Ollie. The shirt she was wearing smelled like his detergent. The room smelled like patchouli from the incense he burned— Connor had given it to him, she thought.
Rolling over, Mia sighed again, rubbing her thighs idly together. She was going to be so bored in here.
After an hour, she was still bored, but she had soaked through the boxers. When this was all over, she was going to have to find a way to get Ollie to let her wash all of this— the clothes, the sheets, everything. She tossed her phone to the side, squeezing her eyes tightly closed and scrunching her face. Touching herself wouldn't help anything. She knew this. Still, her skin itched.
She relaxed her face with a long sigh.
"Mia?" Connor called out, muffled by the door between them.
"Yeah?"
"How are you doing?"
"Not great," Mia said ruefully, splayed out on the bed. It was too much. She rolled over, pressing her face into the blanket and breathing in and out slowly.
"Do you need anything? Dad will be back in an hour, but he has his phone. He'll take requests if you want anything."
"Thanks, I'm good for now." Mia lifted her head to answer, then sunk back into the bed, the scent of Ollie comforting her. She was dripping, and she could feel the heat of arousal slowly building, but she was in control.
Another hour and Mia had popped a pillow between her thighs, just to have something there, but she hadn't cracked beyond that yet. She pulled Ollie's shirt up, hiding her face under the loose collar. The detergent smell overpowered what little of Ollie was in the shirt. She felt a spark of irrational anger at the fact.
She rolled over, eyes darting around the room. A hamper sat next to the closet. Without thinking, she stood up, suppressing a groan of frustration as the pillow fell away. Slowly, she opened and closed her hands, resisting the powerful urge to touch herself. Three shaky steps and she was there, looking down into the hamper. Bare wicker stared back up at her.
Mia's hands curled into fists. She lifted one to her mouth and bit down to suppress the scream that tried to burst from her. Blinking hard, she turned back around and picked up the pillow, flopping back into the bed. She held the pillow, holding her thighs apart and ignoring the way she could feel her body clenching and dripping.
More time passed. Mia's eyes burned, and she ached with a constant, irritating need. She tried watching videos on her phone, but even that required too much concentration.
"Mia?" Connor asked.
Mia's cunt throbbed at his voice. She held back a sob.
"Mia?" he repeated, voice tinged with gentle concern.
"Go away!" Mia shouted, loathing the way her body was reacting. She felt disgusting, out of control. Her old crush was long gone, and even that had been her choice, as much as crushes could be. This was just— just a stupid biological weapon, trying to propagate.
"What do you need?" Connor asked, not sounding offended to be yelled at. "I can get Ollie instead, if that helps."
Mia'd been inhaling Ollie's muted scent for so long that her mind leapt at the prospect… and then her body caught up, thighs clenching. She wished someone could hold her, but she knew her reaction would be… would be something she wouldn't like. God.
Why was she pussy-footing around it? She knew what sex was. She could talk about it in detail, if she wanted.
She didn't know how she was going to survive this.
"No," she managed finally. "Not him. You can stay. But—"
"Yes?" Connor prompted once Mia had been silent for too long. She didn't want to ask for it, but if she could have something that might help, then…
"Could you… ask Ollie if I can borrow some of his clothes?"
"Aren't his clothes in there already?" Connor sounded genuinely confused, and Mia was in his room.
"They're too…" she started hoarsely, curling up on the bed. "Too clean. They don't smell like him."
"Oh." A pause. "I'll ask."
"Wait!" Mia yelped, a wave of shame at the thought of actually asking Ollie for his things hitting her as it went from possibility to reality. "Never mind. Don't ask him!"
"If you don't want me to ask him, I won't. But he'd want you to ask for something that helps instead of suffering, especially if it's something he can do." Connor paused again. "It's hard for us, too, not being able to help you."
"You are helping," Mia insisted. Her body burned and ached, but she was safe and warm and comfortable. She could stand to just… be sick with them.
Her fingers curled in the sheets, and she pushed herself up, suppressing a shudder at the shifting feeling of fabric against her body.
"Ok. Yes. Ask him for me. Please." She closed her eyes, breathing slowly to try and calm herself down. With a faint whisper of movement, Connor left the door.
Mia wasn't sure how much time passed, her hips shifting against the pillow in search of some relief. Her skin itched— she felt like she was going to burst right through it, like it was too tight and too dry and—
A tap at the window. Mia jerked bodily, starting to cover herself before remembering that she was still wearing Ollie's shirt and boxers. She rolled over, catching sight of Connor's form through the pulled-back curtains. He lifted the sill just barely from the outside, sliding Ollie's clothing through before closing the window again.
Mia couldn't help herself, couldn't wait to make sure Connor was out of sight. She scrambled out of bed like a woman possessed. Her senses narrowed in on that pile of neatly folded clothing— she knew Connor was probably the one who'd folded it. When her hands landed on the pile, she almost sobbed with relief. Soft cotton, nothing artificial, not at home. And they were still warm.
She lifted up the red t-shirt, pressing her face into it and inhaling deeply. Ollie's scent— human, the faintest hint of his deodorant and aftershave, scented like most men's products were, and then patchouli.
Mia's head thunked into the wall as she slumped to the side, clutching the t-shirt and jamming her free hand beneath the boxers. Her slick cunt mocked her as she breathed Ollie's scent in again, wishing faintly that it smelled stronger. She'd already been dosed, couldn't she have his contaminated clothes from the fight?
And then her grip shifted on the shirt and a smaller piece of fabric fell out. Mia rubbed hard at her clit, panting, her brain only slowly processing the plaid boxer briefs. She made a low, wounded noise, falling forward and clutching at them. Her cheek pressed into the cool hardwood floor as she seized the underwear tightly, pressing them against her face and huffing them like a pervert.
She wailed in relief, Ollie's earthier scent here clinging to her tongue. She dazedly opened her mouth to smell and taste him better, her pussy clenching around nothing. Mia needed him so badly. She could feel sweat beading on her face as her eyes watered. When she suckled on the front of his briefs, her body spasmed, heat searing through her as she came.
Dropping fully to the floor, Mia slipped her wet fingers free before curling up on her side, clutching at the underwear with both hands. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about whether Connor had seen any of that. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as another wave of sickly sweet arousal hit her.
"Please," she whimpered into the cotton, feeling like a wounded animal. She pressed her eyelids even more tightly together, scrunching into a ball. Ollie's scent was the only thing that brought her any relief, so she focused on it, even as her throbbing, itching cunt demanded more.
Mia'd already given in once. She promised herself she wouldn't again, even as she ran her tongue against the now sodden fabric. Nothing lasted forever, she told herself, even as a tear slipped free from one eye. She'd get through this, and then…
Then she'd figure out how to deal with all of this.