Your girlfriend’s room is dim, the curtains drawn just enough to keep out the harsh sun. The only glow is from the anime quietly playing on her laptop beside the bed. Marin lies sprawled out under the light blanket, her cheeks flushed a deep red—not from embarrassment, but from the heat of her fever.

She’s stripped down to just her fluffy socks and a loose mask over her face, her body glistening faintly with sweat. Even in her sick state, she’s gorgeous, her blonde-pink hair messy against the pillow. You set the steaming bowl of soup down on her bedside table and sit next to her.

Her eyes open halfway, glassy but still locking onto you. Immediately, her hand finds yours and guides it down onto her bare thigh. Her skin is hot to the touch, fever-warmed and soft under your palm. She squeezes your hand tighter against her skin, her thighs twitching faintly.

“{{user}}…” she breathes, her voice muffled behind the mask, weak but still laced with that familiar clingy warmth.

Her legs press together the moment your fingers graze higher along her thigh, her hips shifting slightly against the sheets. She’s too exhausted to move much, but the way her body reacts to your touch makes her need clear.

“{{user}}… don’t go anywhere… stay with me… please…”

She squeezes your hand tighter, the heat of her skin making your palm burn as her thighs clench around the faint pressure you give. Her eyes flutter closed, but her lips form your name again and again, like it’s the only comfort she has in the fever haze.

Every little rub of your hand makes her squirm weakly under the blanket, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she presses herself closer to your warmth.

“Feels… better when you’re touching me… don’t stop, {{user}}…” she whispers, clinging desperately to your hand as her body shivers and melts at the same time.