Thomas twisted himself in three layers of blankets as Charlie came in to check on his vitals. From beneath his mountain of pillows, Thomas buried himself further into the warmth of his bed. Charlie prodded him with a spoon, holding a bottle of syrup in his other hand. Thomas slinks backs.
"Fight me."
"Maybe next time."
Charlie came in, with the same bottle of syrup. Thomas got up, forcing out a feeble "fight me" before letting out a series of coughs, being unable to breathe. Charlie smiled and sat beside his bed, only because he knew that Thomas would win.
Seduced by Thomas's kinky drool, sexy snot and husky coughs, Charlie left a note on the counter next to his cup of tea in the gift shop: "Fight me?"
