Tender Loving Care 3

This is a (very) gentle femdom romance story. It's slow burning, cozy, and kind. Safe for curious vanilla readers who want a soft and sweet story about consensual domination and submission. Snuggle under your blanket and enjoy.

***

It took three long weeks to get here, sitting at this little cafe on my first date with Christopher. He was my favorite match by far from the app. It wasn't just his looks. I'm not that shallow. He was groomed, dressed just a notch above casual, and clearly partook in regular exercise. That was enough for me.

Mostly I liked his sweet personality and the way he thought about life and people and everything. He hadn't turned all fashionably cynical like most people our age. I loved talking to him. We'd been texting every single evening since we matched, always a little more than the day before. It had become my favorite part of the day.

"You're just like I thought you'd be, Kira," he said softly. Most of the things he said were soft-spoken. He had such a kind voice, and my name sounded better on his tongue than my own.

"You're almost just like I thought," I told him.

"Almost?"

"I thought you'd be shorter, like me. Maybe you shouldn't take so many pictures next to spruce trees and bookcases."

That made his smile turn into a laugh. He was very easy to laugh, a naturally happy sort, but also pretty shy. He would look nervously away while talking, frequently adjust his already-adjusted glasses, and sometimes even stammer a bit. I tried to help ease his nerves by focusing the conversation on the books we were currently reading. It was a familiar topic for him, as he owned a little used bookshop not far from this cafe.

"I love a good, cozy mystery or romance book in winter," I said. Outside there were light flurries that we both occasionally turned to watch. "I just want good things to happen to good people and nothing too sad or violent."

"That's a popular request lately at the shop. I'm a little sick of all the gritty stuff too these days. I'm actually reading a cozy fa-fa-fantasy right now myself."

He looked away when he stuttered over that word, and I felt bad for him. I wanted to tell him it was fine and he was safe. That his shyness was cute like all the rest of him. But things like that take a lot more than a few kind words to rectify.

I couldn't help but wonder if part of his shyness tonight sprung from our chat a few days ago. That was when he mentioned, all quick and quiet and mid-sentence, that he could be pretty submissive. I think, looking back on it now, that he was trying it out, downplaying it. If I laughed or implied disgust, then he'd have typed 'lol' to me, and it would have only been a joke or an autocorrect error. Schrödinger's submissive.

But I personally found it alluring. For years I'd known I had a strong dominant side, but I've so rarely gotten to express it. Guys see me, small all around with delicate, feminine features, and it usually brings out the caveman in all of them. Even now in my late twenties guys sometimes found it fun to pick me up in two arms with no warning at all. But Christopher here was different, willing to see me the way I felt inside. I bet he was the kind of guy who would even ask to kiss me, or wait until I kissed him first. A lot of women hated that, but it was exactly my type.

So that night, when he typed his nervous, quiet little confession, I typed back, "You're submissive? Good."

"Really?" he'd responded. It took an entire thirty seconds of three flashing dots for that one word.

"You heard me," I said, because I thought it sounded dominant and I was feeling a little flirty. I added a little winking emoji next to it to be sure.

I thought our chat might evolve into some kind of sexting but instead he was so adorably happy after that exchange. Even more than the usual amount. Exclamation points everywhere. It made me smile then, and now to remember it.

"You read a lot but I don't see you in the shop," he said. He wasn't hurt, but a little surprised.

"Honestly, I'm more of a library girl."

"Oh," he said. He feigned disappointment. "They're always stealing my customers."

I laughed. "Now I've got a good reason to visit. Do you want another coffee?"

I wanted to stay right here, talking and talking until the cafe closed and the owner shooed us outside. He'd even seemed to calm a bit in the past twenty minutes. His leg bounced a lot less under him as he sat.

"Hmm," he said. "Maybe just some ice water. So hot in here."

I took that as flirting, but then he fanned his face while we waited in line for my second coffee and his ice water. It wasn't even hot in the cafe, and every time someone opened the door I clutched my sweater tighter to me. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Maybe he just ran hot.

But back at the table, when we tried to pick up where we'd left off, things just weren't the same anymore. I was in the middle of a childhood story that usually made just about everyone laugh, and he just sort of blinked at me numbly, like he was half-asleep. Was I boring him to death now? Where had I gone wrong? My feelings were hurt and I felt a blush of embarrassment rising to my cheeks.

I decided then to get down to business and end all this confusion immediately. "So what are you hoping for with me?" I asked. I couldn't have been more direct about it. Now was his chance to bring up friendship, or say he was just enjoying the single life, and let me down easy.

He mumbled out his answer so quietly. "I really, really like you. I'm sorry-" Then he slumped forward to lay his head on his arm, flung over the table. I gasped, covering my mouth with both hands. He made this little whimpering moaning sound, and closed his eyes in a grimace.

"Christopher?" I stood up, my heart pounding like crazy. The barista was only eighteen or so, and took a nervous step back. No help at all. So I checked my poor date over myself. I shook his shoulder, and then put a hand on his cheek. My hurt feelings were now swiftly recovered. The poor guy was burning up.

I knew just what it was right then. There had been an invisible nightmare stalking this city, hitting unsuspecting people like a bus and laying them flat out for a solid twenty-four hours. I got hit with it myself a few weeks back.

"Hey, wake up," I said gently, my lips right up to his ear. "Stand up and follow me. You can do it."

I coaxed him outside like that, as gently as I could. The moment the frigid December air touched his skin the chills began, making him double over, teeth chattering. "I don't feel good," he said, sounding like a frightened child.

"I know, I know," I said. "You have a fever."

"Did I ruin our date?"

I laughed softly. He wasn't thinking straight anymore, so I was getting pure, unfiltered Christopher right now. At least he was still a sweetheart. "You didn't do anything wrong. I had a lovely time."

"Oh! Me too," he said, a burst of his usual joy cutting through his pain for a second. Then he doubled over a second time, shuddering and grabbing his own arms to stay warm.

"You walked here, right?" I checked. He nodded. "Let me just drive you home."

The poor man fell asleep in my car before I even turned out of the parking lot. It was actually a little adorable, him making the car window his pillow.

Seeing that made my choice clear. He was so obviously incapacitated that there was no way I could dump him off at his place and leave him there like this. So I turned left instead of right.

"Don't worry," I told him. He didn't seem to hear me. I pressed the back of my hand to his cheek at every single stoplight. "Don't worry. Don't worry."

Maybe that was more for me than him, because I was pretty worried, truth be told. I pulled into my little designated parking spot and gently rubbed Christopher's shoulder until he opened his eyes. "Follow me."

I offered him a hand and he took it, his burning palm against my freezing one. He obeyed without question, trudging behind me into the lobby and down the first floor corridor, lumbering and awkward. His teeth still chattered.

"Where are we, Kira?"

"My apartment," I answered, twisting the key into the lock. "This fever going around is awful. I've already had it myself, so you won't even get me sick. Just stay here. You'll be all better before you know it, I promise."

"Are you really sure?"

"I'm positive." I guided him towards the nearest couch and had him take a seat. "I don't want you to be alone like this. I'm going to take care of you. Alright?"

"Yes," he nodded with such sincerity. "Yes, please."

"Aww," I couldn't help a smile as I worked off his coat and boots. He was so less shy now. It was like his body didn't have the energy to fret over his social skills. "Now, let's see how bad it is."

I held a thermometer against his forehead until it beeped and flashed, frenetically warning me. He had it bad, but not enough to go to the hospital. So I got him two Tylenol and helped steady a glass of water against his lips as he swallowed them back.

"This will help," I promised. He nodded slowly and then just fixed his gaze on me, waiting for me to tell him what to do next.

I pointed the way to the bathroom, saying to use it while he could. He'd probably sleep for the next twelve hours if his fever went anything like mine had gone. "There's a toothbrush you can have in the top drawer, still in the packaging."

"Thank you, Kira."

Once he came back he only asked, "This couch?"

"Bed," I said. "You don't need a backache too. Come on, follow me."

He simply went where I led him, my hand clutching his again. I turned down the covers and let him sit on the side of the bed. "You want the jeans on or off?"

"You pick," he deferred to me.

His jeans were so thick that I doubted he'd be comfortable like that all night. So I worked them off his hips, leaving him in his shorts. He didn't complain, even shy as he was. "Lay down."

"Yes, Kira," he said.

Now I understood, when he said those two words, just like that. It was a form of

yes, ma'am

just for me. His submissive side had surfaced as his fever raged, almost like a survival mechanism. It was like his subconscious brain decided I'd best be in charge of his safety, as he was too sick to fend for himself. It was a big turning point, once I understood what was happening and what he needed from me. I let myself fully indulge in caring for him.

"So polite," I praised him, tucking him in. I put his glasses on the bedside table and pulled the sheets up to his neck. "I'm here if you need anything."

"Thank you, Kira," he said, barely audible. I didn't doubt he'd be asleep in seconds, just like in my car.

So I made myself dinner, and then checked on him about a thousand times an hour. Eventually I got into bed beside him and rested my hand against his hot cheek. He breathed all slow and heavy, deep in sleep.

"I'll take good care of you," I promised him, hoping his subconscious mind would take it in. After all, that was what set up this whole plan in the first place.

"Mm," he said quietly, turning in his sleep. Message received, I hoped.

***

All the shivering woke me up. It was so early that the sun only cast a faint yellow-gray light through the windows. Without a second thought, I rolled over to help him. "Hey," I said. "I'm here. I've got you."

I pressed my whole body against his, trying to warm him by holding him in both arms. He wiggled backwards and bent his legs up, so we fit even more like two puzzle pieces. After only a minute he stopped shivering.

"There, is that all better?"

Christopher sighed wistfully and I could feel the tension just draining out of him. "Much better." His voice was still weak from the illness. "I've never been the little spoon before."

"Never once? Poor thing. How do you like it?"

"So nice," he said softly. I think he was still half asleep.

"Good. You'll need it a lot today."

There's something to be said for snuggling on winter weekend mornings, even under conditions such as this. Even without my phone or anything to entertain me, I was as content as could be. Christopher was equally calm, and only eventually left my arms so he could slowly wobble into the bathroom. It was like watching a newborn fawn walk. I feared the fever had struck him harder than it had myself. On his way back to bed, I could see he was grimacing.

"Aching?" I checked. He nodded, so I freshened up in the bathroom and got him another dose of pills from the cabinet while I was there. "Is it your back?"

Christopher failed to bite back a groan of pain. "Everywhere."

"Poor boy," I told him. "Lay face down. Close your eyes."

In this state he didn't think to politely decline. He simply did exactly as ordered, laying flat on his stomach.

I started with his back and shoulders, alternating between kneading his muscles with the heels of my palms and gently scratching and rubbing under his shirt. Both comforted him just about equally, his breathy grunts of discomfort turning into soft sighs. He had lovely, smooth skin, too. I felt it sometimes turn to goosebumps under the lightest of my touches.

"Okay, turn over."

Once he was on his back, I worked my hands up his legs, first the right and then the left. I squeezed and rubbed and made sure every inch of him got as much attention as the last. Then I did the same to his arms, noticing an acute increase in all his little sighs. I'd found something of a rare sweet spot in him right in the center of his arm. I knew he'd be a puddle should I start kissing him there.

For now, he was too feverish to react with more than grateful, relieved sighs. But he did completely submit to me, all the same. He lay there so still, accepting anything I might do to him without question. Even when I happened upon a particularly sore spot, he would wince or grunt, but he never tried to push my hands away. It was so beautiful to be trusted like this. Nobody did that much these days. Everybody was always side-eyeing everybody else, looking for ulterior motives or putting up fronts. Not Christopher.

"Are you feeling hungry at all? Want breakfast?"

"Yes please."

I got up and filled up a glass of water first. "I want you to drink this while I make it," I told him, patting his head. "The whole glass. It will help."

"Yes, Kira."

I made us both buttered toast and hot tea sweetened with a little honey. By the time I came back I saw he'd obeyed me well, finishing the whole glass of water.

"What a good boy," I told him, and he smiled up at me from the bed. It was no secret he liked hearing that. "I want you to drink this whole tea too if you can."

"I can," he promised. "Thank you."

Halfway through the light meal I grabbed his toast instead of mine, and tried to jokingly rectify the problem by feeding it to him by hand. He laughed a little and then put his still too-hot head on my shoulder. It was so sweet.

"You like being fed, huh?"

"Yes, Kira," he said softly. Was the fever making him blush, or was he doing that on his own?

He was so sweetly submissive in all kinds of ways. Even these little moments that had nothing to do with sex at all. It was almost more of a personality type than a sexual predilection. Though, I'm sure it was also the latter. Once he felt better, sometime this evening, I'd get to see for myself. My naughtier plans for him were on pause, not canceled.

It would have to wait, though. So I put on a movie, one of those twee Christmas romances. Just something mindless and comforting and distracting enough from his aches and pains.

For a long while I had his head in my lap, so he was watching it sideways. I ran my hands through his hair, gently pulling it up between my fingers. Just like at the hairdresser, but without the scissors. When I tired of that, I traced light circles onto his back. He enjoyed all his attention, practically purring like a kitty cat.

All this cuddling helped him and me both. It soothed him through the worst of the chills and aches, and it helped me stop constantly worrying. It felt like I could do something instead of just watching him suffer.

Once the credits were rolling, Christopher shared a concern on his mind. "Have I ruined your whole Sunday?"

"You haven't," I told him.

"I haven't? No, I must have."

I got up to open the curtains, so he could see outside. Nearly a foot of snow had accumulated. The street outside was quiet and picturesque. The plows hadn't yet gone through. On the sidewalk, a few people were struggling, hiking through drifts. A lady was carrying her Yorkie in her arms instead of on its leash, lest he disappear forever.

"I was going to stay home all day anyway," I promised. "And now I've got company."

"You do," he said.

"Truth be told, you would have probably ended up here even if you weren't sick."

"Oh?"

I shrugged and smiled. "I know you were a little nervous, but our date went quite well until you suddenly wanted to nap on the table."

He laughed, rubbing some lingering embarrassment out of his face. "What a first impression."

"Not your fault. And I already knew I liked you from all our chatting online. I didn't even really like texting until it was with you. So, really, I was gonna want to bring you home either way." Normally I didn't enjoy being all dainty and coy. I wanted what I wanted.

Christopher was being a bit coy in my stead, looking down and so obviously working out what to say in his head. The fever was slowing down all his thoughts. "And do what?" he said at last.

I shrugged and said, "Whatever I wanted."

I swear I saw his pupils narrow as he shakily breathed out the air he'd been holding in his lungs.

"We'll talk about it more once you feel better. If it goes anything like mine, you'll be fine by dinner tonight, but a little weak until tomorrow morning."

"So only about seven more h-" a chill ended his sentence prematurely. I grabbed him against me, but he shook for a good long minute.

So it was back to bed for him. I got him tucked in and leaned down to kiss his forehead without thinking. It was an impulse that didn't feel so strange after all our cuddling that morning. He was still too hot against my lips, but it wasn't time for more medicine yet.

"Sweet dreams," I told him.

"Sweet dreams," he told me. Then he scrunched up his face, embarrassed. "I mean, thanks. Thank you."

I laughed softly. He must have liked his little kiss. My only thought to calm his nerves was a second kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome."

***

After putting together a soup to simmer, I spent a long time at the window-seat. I watched all the brave souls trying to fight their way through the snow. Then I read my book right there, the street lamps outside my only light. I was so glad to be curled up under my blanket.

Just across from me, Christopher's stomach was slowly rising and falling. I could only hope he was in as little pain now as it looked. Just one chapter later, I saw him awake, quietly watching me read.

"Hey," I told him. "Good morning."

"Good morning," he yawned.

"Feeling any better?"

He nodded, but looked anxious, his eyes searching the room. "It's so dark."

"Just that time of year," I said. "It's only just after six."

I got an official reading in as he wiped the bleariness from his eyes. The thermometer beeped fast and panicked, but it only saw the world in black or white. Fever or no fever. I was able to share better news. "It's dropped to a very low grade fever. Ninety-nine on the nose. I think you're nearly better."

His walk to the bathroom was a lot less labored. It was weird, but I kind of thought I'd miss him like this. It was fun to be needed - to be in charge in a loving way. I curled him back into my arms the moment he returned, and noted that my little spoon was far less hot than earlier this morning.