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There was no denying it, Shane was sick. Chills, sweat, headache. It felt like his skin was crawling. He hated being sick, and when he was Ilya could be sooo overbearing and bossy. The past couple days he could feel something coming on, but of course he ignored it and continued his routine. He did drink gallons of water and tea and saunaed after his workouts and practice because flushing your system was a thing, right?
Alas, all the flushing was for nothing. He groaned in frustration and buried his face in his pillow which activated Ilya's doting even while he slept. A strong arm snuck around Shane's torso and he was pulled into his husband's chest.
"You are so hot, kotik," Ilya grumbled and opened one eye like he was studying Shane with a magnifying glass.
Shane whined, knowing that now it would definitely be impossible to hide whatever this was. A hand came up to his forehead followed by muttered Russian and Ilya extricating himself from the bed and padding to the bathroom.
A minute later the mattress sank with Ilya's weight again and a thermometer was shoved into Shane's face, eliciting a noise of protest, "Open."
Shane obediently, if reluctantly, opened his mouth and let the thermometer be placed under his tongue. This was one of his weirder sensory peeves along with getting his blood pressure taken, microfiber, and chalk. He held it there, pokey and heavy, for what felt like forever until it finally beeped.
"38.7, my poor Shane," Ilya cooed, "You sweat through your shirt, kotik. Go rinse off, I will change sheets."
Even though he really didn't want to move, that sounded pretty nice. The drying sweat was sticky and making him itch. Ilya helped him up and out of his shirt, but pulled Shane back in front of him before he could go two steps towards the bathroom.
"What is this?" Ilya asked, running his hands across Shane's stomach.
"What?" Shane looked down and noticed that his chest and abs were covered in a light rash. He'd gotten something similar when he got sun poisoning on a family vacation in Mexico once.
Ilya threw the curtains open before continuing to study him. He was turned bodily around by the shoulders while his Russian inspected every inch with furrowed brows.
"Vetryanka?" Ilya muttered, "Shane have you ever had…gah I don't remember what this is called. Is for children. Red dots that are itchy? Chicken plague??"
"Chickenpox? I don't know, I think so…" He must have, right? Every kid did, he was probably just too young to remember.
"We must call your mother. And doctor. Is not good for adults to get this," Ilya was working himself into a little frenzy but then remembered Shane was still standing there sick and half naked. "Go shower, lyubimyy, I will change sheets and figure everything out. You will rest."
Apparently, Shane had not had the chickenpox. When he got out of the shower Ilya had just started facetiming with the team doc and was explaining just that. Noticing Shane was back Ilya came at him with the phone so now the doctor could see her almost nude patient.
"Can you see??" Ilya was trying hard to keep the panic out of his voice.
"ILYA!" Shane crouched and gripped the towel around his waist, throwing his husband a dirty look for being so flippant with his modesty.
"Yep, that looks familiar," the doc said, "Have you been with the Pikes recently? I actually talked to Hayden yesterday, the twins are both down with chickenpox."
Ilya's face went from concern to fury in a second flat and ground out, "Yes. We saw Pikes."
"Then I'm pretty positive that's what we're looking at. I'll send a script for an antiviral since it's usually worse in adults, that should help some, and I'll send an email with some more info. Otherwise not a lot to do but wait it out, I'm afraid! Obviously, try to avoid scratching unless you want some scars to remember it by. Get better soon, Shane," she finished and ended the call.
"Pike. Negodyay. Bich moyego sushchestvovaniya. Ya tebe pokazhu gde raki zimuyut," Ilya muttered.
"Ilya, calm down," Shane couldn't understand most of what his husband said but he was slightly worried for Hayden's safety, "I'll be fine."
Famous last words and all that. The next few days while the rash ran it's course were a case study in misery. The constant itch was inescapable, Shane's softest clothes felt like sandpaper, the lotions and baths were slimy and almost not worth the temporary relief. His head pounded and everything was too loud, too bright, too rough.
Poor Ilya managed Shane the best he could, but his boy was a mess. With the rest of the sensory nightmare Shane was essentially mute for four days and had almost constant tears in his eyes that drove Ilya insane with helplessness. He made himself feel better by occasionally sending mildly threatening texts to Pike, as the whole thing was his fault. All he got in return were sweet pictures of his baby girls smiling with missing front teeth and pink lotion covered skin.
Finally, the worst passed for Shane. The fever and headache were gone, the scabs were irritating, but Shane could almost think clearly. Almost. After days of chaos his body needed help coming down. Unfortunately he knew of one thing that was sure to get him feeling normal again, but Ilya wouldn't give it to him!
Shane's first attempt at provocation was sad at best. He spent 30 minutes carefully curating disarray in the den that had been his home lately. Maybe Ilya would see it as a little disrespectful after a week of waiting on Shane hand and foot. Instead…
"Shenya, what is this mess in here? You will give yourself a panic attack, lyubimyy." Ilya soothed as he went around the den gathering cups and mugs and other debris.
And he was right. Ilya wasn't a slob by any means, but Shane was a neat freak. After artfully wrecking the room he'd sat primly on the couch sweating and unable to watch whatever he'd put on the TV while a voice in his head screamed pick up pick up pick up pick up!
"Oh uh yeah. Sorry baby," Shane jumped up to help and started refolding blankets he'd crumpled only twenty minutes early. One point to Ilya.
The next attempt was a little better and took some planning, but the Russian was going to be harder to crack than he thought. Shane reasoned that maybe if he could make his husband think he'd disobeyed the doctor's orders, a big no no when Shane was sick and Ilya was in full protector mode, he could get what he wanted.
"What happened over here?" Ilya fingered the leaves of the dying snake plant next to the couch.
Shane intentionally didn't hide his very real nervousness, "Oh…um…wow…I don't know…"
"Malysh," Ilya narrowed his eyes, "the dirt, it is very wet. The plate is full of water."
"Oh?"
"Shaaane," Ilya's voice held a warning that made Shane's stomach flip and he momentarily forgot this was exactly what he was hoping for.
"Well, I might have spilled a some water over the arm of the couch while I was feeling really bad. And maybe once or twice when I wasn't thirsty I thought I might water the plants with the rest of my water bottle…"
"Shane! You were to drink and stay hydrated shalovlivyy mal'chik! You are lucky to be feeling better, doctor said it was very important to hydrate with your fever so high! You could have made yourself worse, kotik. What color is your pee??"
"Oh my god, Ilya, gross! My pee is fine! I'm sorry, just sometimes I felt like I would burst and I didn't want to make you upset," it was funny that this was the actual lie. He did drink all that Ilya asked of him like a good boy, it was only the past couple days he had committed first degree plant murder: premeditated drowning.
Shane was sure this was it, putting his health at risk and lying? Those were Ilya's top two rules. But instead of a stern, accented come here or his husband's gentle grip on his upper arm, Shane felt a kiss pressed to the crown of his head and a soft touch on his lower back.
"Come, I will make you some tea, shalovlivyy mal'chik."
Ugh! Shane thought and he let himself be led to the kitchen. Two points to Ilya's patience.
The next day, as Shane was studying the off white paint of the familiar bedroom corner while cold air tingled the fresh sting on his ass, he considered his big plan. Yes, he wanted this. Well maybe not the corner part, but the rest. But it didn't make waiting any easier.
Earlier, a third opportunity had presented itself and Shane really committed. At first he just honestly was feeling restless and like he finally had a smidgen of energy, but then there was a line drawn that he could step over. TBD if he'd regret it.
"Kotik, absolutely not. I am glad you are feeling better, but you are still weak. No workouts until you are eating enough calories to sustain them," Ilya snatched Shane's sneakers out of his hands and put them back on the shoe rack.
"I need to move, Ilya, I've been a potato for over a week. And how else am I supposed to regain my strength?"
"You have been sick, Shenya. And you won't be regaining any strength even if you work out because you have not been eating. I know it's because you haven't been feeling well, but I am serious, Shane, you could hurt yourself," Ilya's eyes bored into him and Shane looked at the floor to avoid them, "You understand me, da?"
"Ugh yes, sir. Fine." Shane whined.
"Good. Come, we will prep some of your favorites. If you eat normally for a couple days you should be able to do some light training now. We will talk to doctor," Shane allowed Ilya to peck his lips and lead him away from the gym, feeling a little annoyed.
It proved difficult to prep anything as their fridge and pantry had been neglected while Shane was ill. The two of them sat and hashed out a list of things that might tempt Shane back into a normal diet and Ilya headed out the door. Immediately Shane's eyes darted over to his sneakers.
What if I just ride the bike a while? Just to shake out my legs, plus no danger of falling…
An hour later the door to the gym flew open.
"Shane! What did I say? Upryamyy muzhchina!" Ilya stomped over as Shane dismounted then without preamble swung him around and delivered a handful of stinging swat to his backside.
"Ow! Shit!" Shane yelped.
"You will be the death of me, kotik. And yourself! I think you are right though, you are ready for some physical activity. Go to bedroom. To corner," Ilya punctuated his order with another smack towards the door as Shane tried to dance out of reach, "Shorts down!" Ilya yelled after him.
So now Shane waited, thinking it was worth it but getting less sure by the minute. He'd directly disobeyed Ilya, and then also did something dangerous in his husband's eyes. That might have not been smart. And waiting really was the worst. He heard Ilya come in and twisted his hands in his shirt, willing himself not to turn until called.
"Shane, come sit. I'm sorry, I should not have made you stand," Shane joined his husband on the bed and was immediately handed some water which he took without complaint.
"Lyubimyy, why so naughty, hmm? I was trying to work with you. I know you are restless, but you have been very sick! You would not speak, you would not eat. I have been very worried!"
Shane cringed, poor Ilya deserved better, "I know, I'm sorry. I've just been feeling…bad…off. I wanted…"
A light bulb went off in Ilya's head and he grinned hungrily, "Ahh, I see, kotik. You needed settling by your big strong husband. I see now. You may soon wish you had chosen another way because for this I should be getting your paddle."
"What?! No, Ilya! I did try! You didn't listen!" The paddle was a weapon of mass destruction. No thank you. "I tried making a mess, and I…pretended I was pouring water I told you I drank into the plant. Pleeease, I didn't know how to ask," Shane begged miserably.
Understanding of the events of the past few days washed over Ilya, "My Shane, what will I do with you? One day you will need to learn to ask me for what you need to avoid more trouble than you are ready for," he scolded, "Alright. Even though you put yourself in very dangerous situation that I am not happy about, we do not need paddle, but I will finish with the hairbrush."
Shane whimpered. Ilya hadn't really planned on paddling Shane, but he definitely deserved a couple smacks with the wooden hairbrush.
"Let us get you what you want then, lyubimyy."
Ilya guided his husband over his lap, resting his body fully on the bed and passing him a throw pillow to hold like he preferred. Shorts and underwear were quickly shucked to Shane's knees, effectively hobbling him for the moment. Large hands began rubbing Shane's back under his shirt and over his exposed bottom. He was already feeling more grounded than he had in days.
The sound of the first spank filled the room, sharp and sweet. It made Shane draw in a quick breath even though the subsequent sting was hardly worth noting. The smacks that followed settled into a warm rhythm, lulling Shane into a twisted meditation. He focused on the slowly building burn and timed his breath with the cadence, in smack smack out smack smack, until he couldn't help but gasp at the intensity.
Shane groaned as Ilya started increasing in both speed and strength and spent some time on the crease where bottom met thigh. When the burn settled deep in his muscles and the sting that ignited with each strike flashed behind his eyelids he couldn't hold back his voice anymore. Whimpers escaped with each exhale.
"Ahh! Owfuck. Sorry! Sorry, Ilya. Thank you!"
His husband stopped briefly and soothed Shane's sore skin with his big hands before dropping a kiss on his head.
"Ya tebya lyublyu," Shane breathed.
"Ya tebya lyublyu, kotik," Ilya crooned before continuing to turn Shane's ass red.
When the dam of tears broke, Shane wailed into his pillow and kicked his feet into the bed to try to relieve the burn. It always felt like the right thing to do, but unfortunately it never did anything helpful. Ilya seemed to take it as a sign, though, and stopped spanking briefly only to rest the cold, unforgiving wood of the hairbrush on the swell of Shane's ass a second later.
Shane's pitiful whine quickly turned into a pained yelp. The hairbrush was the devil! Ilya snapped rectangles of hell down each cheek and thigh and then aimed twice at each sit spot, pulling a series of sobs from his husband.
It had only been ten with the hairbrush and a pretty mild spanking for them in the end. Even so, Shane was exhausted and had been unmoored for days. Ilya had expected the outpouring of emotions.
As was their ritual, Ilya gathered up his husband and lay back against the headboard, letting his body be a sturdy landing place. Shane lay atop him and clutched and cried into his shirt until his breathing settled. Ilya hugged and kissed and pet him until his body quieted.
"Are you feeling better shalovlivyy mal'chik?" Ilya asked after some time.
"Not naughty," Shane's voice was muffled as his face was pressed deep into Ilya's chest.
"No, not naughty. Are you feeling better, my Shane? My good boy? My kotik? Lyubimyy?" Shane nodded, "Let me get you a drink. Are you hungry?" Another nod.
An hour later Ilya smiled down at his still lightly spotted husband tucked under his arm happily eating a bowl of normal ice cream and engrossed in a documentary about an octopus. It felt like a fog of anxiety and chaos had been lifted from their home. All because of one spanking. He huffed a laugh thinking Do I have magic hands, or does Shane have a magic ass? I think probably the ass. Or maybe it is 'when our powers combine' situation. Like Captain Planet. Whatever it was, he pulled Shane closer, happy to know the magic existed.