The dogs were supervising dinner preparations, hoping that somewhere along the way I would drop some or all of our dinner. They would gladly take care of the mess. At the sound of a door opening, all three went racing towards the garage and came back bouncing around the one who had taken my place as their favorite person. I glanced at the clock. “You’re a little early tonight. Dinner will be ready soon.” Having dinner ready and waiting when he got home was not a requirement by any means, and we often finished preparations together. His hands on my shoulders and a quick kiss to my neck before he walked away made me turn and grab the waistband of his pants.

“Hold on there. Where are you going so fast?” He always paid more attention to me when he got home.

“Just to change. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I still held his pants so he wasn’t going anywhere yet.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’ll be right back. I promise."

I moved in front and kept my arm around him, looking up into his face. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

He nodded, “A little tired. No big deal.” My finger traced down his jaw. It didn’t matter how tired he was, he usually paid me more attention after being gone all day.

“Try again. Headache?” Even with that, he still would have at least kissed more than my neck and asked about me and my day.

“Just a little bit. Let me go change, and I’ll help with dinner.” I took his face in my hands and studied his eyes and then pulled him towards me and kissed his forehead.

“I think you’re a little warm. We should take your temperature.”

He put his arms around my waist and said, “I’m okay. I want to change clothes and eat dinner and I will be even better.”

“Can we say ‘stubborn’?”

His hands slid to hold my backside. “Can we say ‘warm bottom’?” He squeezed a little. I put my hands over his to remove them, but he didn’t budge.

“No, we can’t. Now, look. You wouldn’t buy this from me.”

“But who’s in charge here?”

“At the moment, I am. You sit. I’m going to get the thermometer, and we’ll see how you are.” I pushed him onto one of the barstools and directed, “Don’t move.”

“Don’t think I won’t put you over my knee, Terry Sue.”

“Fine. But first we’re taking your temperature.”

Surprisingly, he was still sitting when I returned with the thermometer, and to, “Open,” he complied readily. Definitely something was wrong. But as we waited, he pulled me between his legs and wrapped his arms around me so I rested against his chest with his chin on my head.

“Dffff.”

I looked at the clock. “No. Two more minutes.” That brought a glare as he pushed me away a little to see my face.

“You’re the one who taught me about getting a good reading.”

As I put my head back on his chest I believe I heard a slight growl. He waited until the extra two-minute mark, though, before he removed the thermometer.

“Verdict?” I asked.

“99.4.”

“That’s elevated.”

“Not enough to be a fever.” I studied his eyes again and took the thermometer from him.

“We’ll check again later.”

I turned to finish getting dinner together, but instead, he tightened his grip around my waist and put one foot up on the footrest of the other barstool.

“What?”

“There’s the little matter of who’s in charge.” He bent me over his knee and began lowering my pants and panties.

“Now, wait a minute! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You said I could put you over my knee and spank you if you took my temperature first.”

“That is NOT what I said! It’s not what I meant! And you know it! Let me up.”

But my protests did nothing, and he gave me a sharp spank. However, as he continued spanking me, his swats were just hard enough to sting, and when he stopped, instead of hurting I felt a rather nice warmth where his hand rested on me.

“Now who’s in charge here?”

“Wait just a minute. Why when I don’t want my temperature taken, I get spanked, and when you don’t want your temperature taken, I get spanked?”

“Who’s in charge?” My silence got a warning pat.

“You are.”

“That’s why,” and he added one more sharper swat before letting me go. “I’m going to go change now and then we’ll finish dinner.”

I began hurrying preparations so he couldn’t do much when he came back and was getting out plates when he returned. I handed him the plates and then silverware with the instruction, “Set the table and sit. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” His look said a lot, but he left without a word and didn’t come back to help. I tucked a bottle of Advil into my pocket and took drinks to the table.

“Besides the headache, what’s wrong?”

“That’s the main thing.”

“Main thing. What else is wrong? Does your throat hurt?” He didn’t sound hoarse yet, but that didn’t mean much.

“A little when I swallow.”

“Honey.”

“Yes, Dear?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, you need to TAKE some honey. Are you getting stuffy?”

“Perhaps a tad. But I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll see. Here, take a couple of these.”

I pulled out the Advil bottle and handed it to him. He stared at me and the bottle.

“I don’t need that.”

“You do. It will make you feel better, at least take the edge off.”

He continued to look at me. He didn’t like orders.

“Please?” I put my hand on his shoulder and held the bottle out a little more. He took the bottle from me and nodded. I heard him shake out a couple while I went to bring the food to the table. He ate pretty normally but didn’t talk as much as usual. When we finished eating, I began to clear the table and told him, “Go onto the couch. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He didn’t protest, and I had more confirmation he was not well.

He reached for me when I came to the couch, but I shook my head and sat at the other end. “You come here tonight.” He studied me a moment. I patted my leg. “Come here. Lie down.” He didn’t hesitate any longer, and his head touched my lap just in time. One of the dogs gave him a long stare nose-to-nose for taking HER spot, but he shooed her away and she laid down nearby, expressing her displeasure by giving one final glare and then lying down with her hindquarters to us. Within a few minutes of my starting to stroke his hair, he had relaxed, and a few minutes more brought sleep. He slept quite awhile before stirring, and when he opened his eyes I advised, “You need to go to bed.”

“I like it here.”

“I do too, but you should still go to bed. You can sleep better there.”

“No, I can’t.”

“C’mon. We’ll check your temperature and then you can take more Advil and go to bed.” No movement except his eyes closing.

“No,” I shook him gently, “you need to go to bed-bed, not lap-bed. Let me up.”

He lifted enough for me to lean forward, and I retrieved the thermometer from where I had set it on the coffee table.

I shook it down and instructed, “Open. Under the tongue and close. Tight.” When it was in place I asked, “How’s your throat? Getting worse?” He didn’t answer. “It’s worse, isn’t it?” He nodded. “More Advil, more honey, and then bed.” His eyes narrowed at me. I ignored him. By the time five minutes had passed, his eyes were closed again, so I removed the thermometer, triggering a sleepy look from him. “It’s still up. 99.”

“That’s still not that much. I’m okay.”

“It may not be that much but that’s with Advil in you, and you’re NOT okay. Let’s get you to bed.” A small smile that I recognized very well played at his lips.

“No, just you. You’re going to bed to SLEEP. I’ll be in later.” His frown didn’t faze me, and I shoved his shoulder slightly.

“Up. Advil, honey, brush teeth, bed.” He moved slowly but didn’t give any other indication something was wrong.

“Do I need to help you in the kitchen?”

“No, I can do it myself just like you can.” That meant he might or might not take more medicine.

“Would you like me to come tuck you in and tell you a bedtime story?” No response. Not even a look. This was NOT good.

A few minutes later I followed him. He was already in bed, curled on his side. I sat beside him and held his hand. Warm.

“Do you need anything else?”

“You."

“I repeat, you need to sleep. But I’ll be back in a little while after I shut things down for the night.” He gave a sleepy nod and closed his eyes. I kissed his temple.

“You’re still warm.”

Eyes closed, he mumbled “Shhhhhh. I’m okay.”

I used the same whisper in his ear. “No, you’re not.” But he was too close to sleep to continue the discussion.

It wasn’t unusual for me to wake before the alarm went off, and I laid there listening to him breathing. Not a snore and not truly labored, but not breathing normally. I kept an eye on the clock, and a few minutes before the alarm sounded I rolled toward him and felt his forehead. Warm. I kissed him and ran my hand over his hair. He moved a little and his breathing changed, but his eyes stayed closed and he didn’t reach for me like he usually did before being fully awake. I sat up and got the thermometer and Vaseline from the nightstand, where I’d put them when I went to bed. He preferred oral, but I had learned this little trick from him when I was really sick.

In a moment I had the thermometer ready. As I pulled the covers back, he croaked, “What do you think you’re doing?" with a voice much lower than normal.

“Seeing how you are this morning, just like you did for me when I was sick.”

He didn’t move. “No.”

“We need to do a temp check. Turn onto your stomach.”

At that, his eyes opened fully. He immediately took both my wrists in one of his hands and sat up. “Hey!” He pulled me over his lap with that hand, and as soon as I was face down took hold of my waistband with the other. “NO!” I began struggling, but all that did was make it easier for him to get my pajama pants down to my thighs. He swatted me hard once.

“Be still.” I got still but wasn’t finished yet.

“NO! Not me! I’m fine. We need to check YOUR temperature.”

“We’ll do that later. We’ll do you now.”

“I’m not sick!”

“Probably not, but let’s make sure.”

I sank as he took the thermometer from me and let go of my wrists. He parted my cheeks and slipped the cold thermometer in, giving it his usual extra twist and push. I growled, receiving another spank before he laid his hand on my bottom, holding the thermometer between a couple of fingers. It was warm, as was his skin against mine where I lay on his lap.

“You’re already warm this morning. How else do you feel?”

“I’ve been under the covers all night.”

“Uh-huh. And how else do you feel? Headache? How’s your throat?”

“Just in the background. My throat hurts some. It’s not too bad.”

“Right. That would explain the croaking. … Are we done yet?”

“Yes, you’re cooked.”

“Let me up. We need to check yours.”

“I’m not that bad. I need to get ready for work.”

He was doodling patterns on my bottom with his finger.

“Quit drawing on me and we’ll have time to take your temperature. And you probably need to stay home from work.”

He quit. He spanked me a few times instead, producing more struggles from me. As quickly as I pushed to get away, he tightened his grip on my waist and got in a few more swats. My hand went back.

“QUIT THAT!” The spanks paused.

“Please? Please let me up. I want to see if you’re running a fever.”

“Oral.”

“Okay, oral. But you’re breathing through your mouth, and it’s not going to be accurate.”

“It will be close enough.”

I hadn’t anticipated having MY temperature taken, but I thought I might have this disagreement with him about where to take his temperature. So I had also left an oral thermometer on my nightstand. When it was under his tongue, I settled against his side, head on his chest with his warm arm around me. Comfortable, secure and also good for listening to his breathing during the wait. We laid together quietly and still. His hands didn’t seek out a single place on my body. The voice was not much of a concern. His hands were. When I was this close, his fingers almost always found a spot to explore. This was SO very not good.

He pulled the thermometer before I looked at the clock, read it and started to sit up.

“How high is it?”

“Not very.”

“How not very?”

He handed me the thermometer, extracted himself from me and walked toward the bathroom. Already almost 100. He needed to stay home from work, but that was going to be a battle. As the shower turned on, I followed his route to the bathroom. He was stepping into the water as I entered the bathroom.

“You need to stay home from work.”

“Nope. Not sick. Or not enough to stay home. I’ll be fine.”

End of discussion. Or so he thought.

The dogs flew out the back door, and then I got the coffee started. On his best days he needed a cup before he left for work. This was not one of his best days. I no longer made the mistake of telling him he needed more coffee than that, at least not unless I was way out of reach. As I stood sipping a glass of juice, I turned back from watching the dogs track all the critters who had been across the backyard during the night and saw his keys hanging on their hook. Risky, but worth a shot. I took his keys and slipped them into the pocket of my pajama pants.

The dogs were inhaling their breakfast when he came into the kitchen. I poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him as he sat down on a bar stool. I put his breakfast in front of him, but he only picked at it and said very little while I sat next to him. I moved the bottle of Advil over.

“Take a couple of these.” He did without any comment.

One more try. “I wish you’d stay home from work.”

“I’ll be okay once I get going.”

“You don’t need to get going. You need to rest and get better.”

“I need to get things done at work. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” He squeezed my hand and went to brush his teeth.

I took the dishes to the sink was still standing there when he came back and reached for his keys. “Where are my keys?”

“You need to stay home.”

“Where are my keys?”

I looked directly at him. “I took them because you need to stay home from work today.”

“Give me my keys, please.”

I shook my head. We were on the edge.

“Get my keys now.”

“No.”

He took a long, deep breath in and exhaled slowly. This was bad, but I didn’t move. He held my eyes with his, and the look was not good.

“Either get my keys now, or get the paddle and then get my keys. You choose. But you will… give... me… my … keys.”

I pulled the keys from my pocket, put them on the counter and turned back to the sink with hot tears forming. Despite crying at pretty much anything, I did my best to not use tears to manipulate. But right now I was angry. He came over and picked up his keys.

“Look at me.”

I didn’t move. A hand on my shoulder. A very firm hand. “Look at me. Please.” I turned and looked his direction but past him. His finger tipped my chin towards his face, and I couldn’t help but make eye contact with him.

“I will be okay. I’m not that sick. Don’t worry about me.”

“Will you at least take the Advil with you and take some during the day?”

“Yes.”

“Promise you’ll take it?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“And will you come home from work if you start feeling worse?”

“Yes, I’ll come home.”

“And will you come home early, even you don’t feel worse than you do right now?”

“Hush. Stop worrying.”

He kissed my cheek and then encased me in one of those “hug the stuffing out of you” hugs.

“I’ll be fine. Will see you later.”

I sighed.

“Hush.” And he was gone.

A good hour early the dogs “went off” and raced from where I was working on the computer to the garage door. I heard them bouncing around him as they made their way back to me. He was pale except for slightly flushed cheeks. Very tired-looking.

“You came home early.”

“I did.” The voice was still croaky.

“How bad do you feel?”

“I could be worse.”

“But you could be better. Much better.”

Just a slight nod.

“Do you want to eat first or do you want to sleep first? I made some chicken soup.” It sounded a little silly, but on the chance that chicken soup actually makes a difference, I had made some.

“Lie down a little while. I’ll eat soon.” I held out my hand to him, which he squeezed very gently, and then he kissed the top of my head and left.

It took about 20 minutes to finish what I was editing, and when I went to the bedroom to check on him, he was sound asleep. His hand had felt warm when he held mine, and a light touch to his forehead confirmed that he was still feverish. With him asleep and fully dressed, I couldn’t determine how feverish, but that could wait. I pulled a light afghan over him and left him sleeping.

Nearly two hours later he found me in the living room. His eyes didn’t look right. “You ready to eat something?” I really hoped getting food into him would help. He nodded.

“Let’s get your temperature while I heat some of the soup.” He just looked at me.

“Do you want to sit here or come to the kitchen?”

“Here.”

“C’mon then. Sit and I’ll get the thermometer.” He took my place on the couch, and when I came back, he was lying down with his eyes closed. I shook down the thermometer and sat on the edge of the couch. I laid a hand on his chest. “Open. Let’s see how warm you are.” He opened his mouth more than it already was to breathe, and I put the thermometer under his tongue. “Close. Five minutes. I’ll go put some soup on to heat.” But he took my hand. I patted his with my other hand. “I’ll be back.” He didn’t let go, so I stayed next to him, watching and listening. The thermometer showed almost 101.

“Did you take Advil today?”

“Yes. I took some.”

“When?”

“Lunch time.”

“Not since then? You could have taken another dose this afternoon.” A small headshake. “And your throat still hurts.” Nodding. “And now you’re stuffy.” More nodding. “And achy?” Nothing. “And achy?” A small nod. “All right. You stay put. I’m going to get the soup ready and then we’ll see what we can do for you.”

He ate the soup and looked a little better. I gave him more Advil anyway. “Now what? Are you ready for bed?”

“No. I’m tired but not sleepy.” I thought a moment and suggested, “How about a bath? Would that feel good? I can get one ready for you.” He nodded. “I’ll call you when it’s ready,” was my plan as I went to the bedroom. His plan was to follow me immediately.

Filling the large tub would take a good ten minutes. While the water ran he began to get undressed. “Sit on the edge of the tub.” A questioning look. “You’re achy.” Nodding again. “Sit down and let me give you a little massage and see if we can make it better.” With a little oil warmed in my hands I started at the base of his skull, rubbing gently, working my way down his neck the across his shoulders and continuing down his arms and then chest, then returning to his back, feeling him relax as my hands moved. By the time the tub was full, he had relaxed enough to lean slightly forward. I picked up a towel to wipe my hands. “All right. Into the tub with you. I’ll see you when you’re done.”

But instead of getting into the water, he turned back to me. “What? Something’s wrong with the water?” He reached for the top button on my blouse. “Wait. You’re supposed to be taking a bath to feel better.”

“I’m going to.” He quickly had all the buttons undone and pushed my blouse off my shoulders, then reached back to unhook my bra.

“You are not feeling well. I repeat, you’re supposed to take a bath to help you relax and feel better.” He unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and slipped them and my panties down. I shook my head at him but stepped out of my clothes. He stood in the tub, took my hand and helped me in.

It was just right for two people without too much maneuvering for space. Today I moved to the back of the tub. He studied me in his usual spot. “Sit down. Get comfy.” He lowered himself into the water, and nestled himself between my legs as I wrapped my arms around him. He rested there a few minutes and then sat back up and turned toward me. I raised an eyebrow at him, which he ignored. He nuzzled my neck as his hand barely brushed my breast. It was just enough to make my nipple start to become erect. A kiss at a particularly ticklish spot at the base of my neck made me tense up, and his hand ran over my breast more firmly. He continued brushing kisses across my neck, shoulder, upper chest as his hand alternated between caressing me and pinching my nipple. My brain kept trying to tell him to stop but each time my mouth formed the words, his touches stopped them. He continued running his tongue and more kisses lower until he reached the waterline. “Stop” still hadn’t come out of my mouth . His hand went from my breast to between my legs, and I had almost forgotten why we were in the tub to start with.

Just as I was starting to move to his hand’s motions, he coughed a few times. I came back to reality.

“Enough. As much as I hate to say it, enough. You are supposed to be in here to relax and feel better, remember?”

His hand stopped, and he met my gaze.

“I was feeling very good.”

“Yes, I could tell. But that’s going to wait until you’re well.” He gave me the narrow-eyed look again. “Your rule, not mine. No fun until you’re well.” He coughed a couple more times. “Uh-huh. Exactly. Now, can you lay here with me or do I need to get out?”

I had a pretty good idea of what was running through his head, but his response was to turn a little bit more towards me so he could better lay his head almost on one breast and his hand on the other. He was still, and his eyes closed. I ruffled his hair. “That can’t be comfortable.” He didn’t move. “Your neck and back are going to hurt.” He snuggled closer. I gave up, leaving my fingers entwined in his hair and holding him with the other arm.

We stayed like that until the water started getting too cool for me. He had barely moved although he wasn’t asleep. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.” No response. My fingers tapped his head. “Hello? I know you’re not asleep. My fingers are all wrinkly, and I’m cold.” Eyes opened. “And this is more comfortable for one of us than for the other.” A sigh. “Please? I’d really like to get warmed up.” He carefully pushed up and stood. Always the gentleman, he held a hand out to help me up. I took it and got to my feet. And then the gentleman tucked me under his arm and began swatting my still wet bottom.

“HEY! What did I do? I didn’t do anything wrong! Let me go!” Wiggling got me nowhere.

“You said you were cold. I’m just trying to warm you up a bit.”

“That is NOT helping!”

“No?” He spanked a little harder.

“OWWWW.” Okay. So now I was getting a little warm in one location. Perhaps a couple of locations. “That HURTS. QUIT! And let me go!” The spanking paused.

“Excuse me?” Remembering the position I was in, I suppressed the growl and tried, “Please, this is not what I meant about getting warm. Would you mind releasing me?”

After a moment’s pause he let go and picked up the towel by the tub, wrapping it snuggly around me. “Maybe the bath wasn’t such a good idea after all,” slipped out just as I got past his reach. What was probably going to be a pretty hard swat barely brushed my backside. I grabbed the other towel and tossed it to him.

He came over to me, but instead of resuming the spanking, he resumed the kissing, this time along my bare shoulders. Nearly all of me wanted him to continue, but I reached a hand back to his head.

“Not tonight. You’re still sick and need to rest.”

“I did rest. I took a nap. I rested in the tub.”

A couple more kisses. I turned around.

“You. Need. To. Rest.”

A Look from him, which I ignored.

“As much as I want you, you need rest.”

“Your bath idea worked. I’m feeling much better.”

“Great, but you still need to rest. We’ll have plenty of time for this when you’re well again, and you know it.”

He nuzzled my ear and along my neck while his hands slid from my shoulders, along my breasts and then down around my hips to hold my bottom as he hugged me close. I put my arms around him, glad for his improvement.

“How about a movie instead?”

“That’s not quite the same.”

“You could go to bed by yourself right now.”

“Movie it is.” He gave me one more squeeze and let go.

As I exchanged my towel for my bathrobe I asked, “Do you have a preference?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” I moved past him out of the bathroom. “Chick flick.” His groan lasted all the way until I reached the hallway.

When I came back with a movie we’d both like, he was waiting in bed. I set the movie on the foot of the bed and picked up the Vaseline and thermometer from my nightstand, crawling across the bed to him. “Turn over.”

The Look. “Turn over. I want to know how you really are.” An unwavering Look. My return Look matched his.

I added the Eyebrow. “We have done this your way, and now we are going to do it mine. And when we’re done, I’m going to put the movie on and curl up with you. So the longer we have this staring contest, the longer until I’m where you want me. … Bottoms up or shall we continue this?”

It took another few seconds for him to break eye contact and roll over. I breathed a small sigh of relief and pulled the covers down.

I dipped the thermometer into the Vaseline and considered him for a second. Then I put one finger on the small of his back and lightly ran it over his cheek to his thigh, getting a tiny shiver followed by a large glare from him.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

“Get on with it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The same finger drifted across that cheek towards his crack, gaining a slight growl, so I quickly parted his cheeks with that hand and slid the thermometer in. My twirling and another push got, “That may not have been a real spanking earlier this evening, but I can certainly give you one now, young lady.”

I laid my hand across him to hold the thermometer and sat down more comfortably, keeping an eye on the clock and enjoying my view.

“Tighten your bottom.”

“Don’t push it.”

He was no fun, confirmed by “I think we’re done.” I glanced at the clock. We were.

I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess, but I kind of like you like this.”

“Terry Sue.”

Or not. I removed the thermometer as slowly as I dared, giving it a slight twist.

“Verdict?”

I wiped the thermometer and told him, “Still above 100. You should sleep.”

“I should also heat up a part of your anatomy again.”

I yelped softly as he took my hand, then took the thermometer from me and set it on his nightstand. He turned to sit up without releasing me.

“Come here.”

“Ummmm…. Movie? Remember? We were going to watch a movie.”

“All right. Go start it and come back. We’re not finished yet.”

I popped the movie into the DVD player, turned off the overhead light and looked back at him. “Come here.” No threat but definitely no nonsense. He was back under the covers. I crawled under the covers on my side of the bed. “Come here, Terry.” I scootched over a little bit. He was looking at the TV. “All the way here. To me.” I sat near him. He lifted his arm, and after trying to figure out what he was up to, I burrowed under it, snug against his warm body. I got no clues from his face. If his goal was to keep me on my toes, he achieved it. So it took a few minutes before I turned a little to see the TV better and finally relaxed as first one, then two and then dog number three found spots with us. Before the movie was half over, his eyes had closed. Whenever I moved, his arm tensed, and I stayed put. But soon, he pulled his arm away, rolled onto his side toward me and looked up at my face. Keeping eye contact, he opened my robe and reached a hand in to rub my shoulder. He brought his hand firmly down my upper chest, lingered at my breast, teasing my nipple and then moved it until it waited low on my abdomen. I parted my legs a little, wanting what I knew needed to wait another few nights. His hand rubbed my stomach, reaching farther down but then sliding over to lay on my bare hip. He used his head to open my robe a little more and then rested his head on my skin, and I felt him go limp in sleep, his hand still there reminding me to whom I belonged.