Wall Between Us

He lay down on his bed, even when he knew he wouldn't sleep anymore. He touched the wall, and thought of her, sleeping just a few feet away, on the opposite side of the wall.

—#—#—#—#—#—

She texted him around nine, when he had been working on his computer for a few hours already.

'Thank you so much for your help! Johanna'

He stared out of the window, searching for words.

'Don't mention it. Are you feeling better? Samuel'

'I am. And thanks for all the food. How much do I owe you?'

'I don't know, I'd have to check from the receipt. But it's okay, really.'

She didn't answer for a while. He figured it might be the end of it and with a sigh, got back to work.

It was difficult to concentrate. He kept remembering her body next to his, how she had responded to his comfort.

At lunchtime he had an idea. He had planned on making himself pasta, and while he was preparing it he sent her a text.

'I'm making pasta for lunch, you want some?'

Her answer came almost immediately.

'I would love some. But I shouldn't exploit you like this.'

'Don't worry about it. Can you come over or should I bring it to you?'

'I don't know. I feel like I should come over. But I don't know if I can.'

'I'll be over as soon as it's ready.'

He smiled as he was cooking. At least he would get to talk with her again.

He mixed the sauce with the pasta thoroughly. He scooped up the food and some Parmesan cheese and walked next door. He still had the key, but he rang the doorbell anyway. She opened, they smiled at each other tentatively, and he went to the kitchen to set the pan down.

He took plates and cutlery from the cupboards and started to set the table, then suddenly stopped. "Oh... am I being too pushy?" he asked. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said. She was sitting at the table, and now he noticed she was still in the same battered pajama shirt and loose college pants she'd had last night. She looked tired, dirty, and messy. She probably wasn't too perky, even when she wasn't quite as ill as last night.

"I just went through your cupboards yesterday, so I know where everything is," he continued. "I'm sorry. But you were kinda out of it and I couldn't ask you."

He blushed a little and turned to the fridge. He felt like an idiot.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked. "You've got apple, orange or pineapple juice. And water."

"I do, huh?" she said and smiled when he turned to look at her. She was pretty, even with her hair dirty and messy and wearing crumpled, baggy clothes, but when she smiled, she was truly beautiful. He was left speechless, holding the fridge door open, staring at her in awe.

"I mean it was you who bought all that, right?" she said, still smiling.

"Well, yes," he stuttered. To break himself from his spell, he set all the juice cartons on the table. Then he explained how he had gone to the pharmacy but hadn't managed to get her medicine in the first go, so he had done a rerun with the pharmacy form. He recounted how he had observed her lack of reserves while putting the cat food out, and how he had decided to buy her some groceries.

"I mean, you were quite sick," he said feebly. "I didn't know what you liked, so I bought a little of everything."

"That was really nice of you," she said. "I didn't want to burden you."

Now he realized she was probably meaning to say he had been too assuming.

"Well," he said, "I live by myself, so I know how much it sucks to be sick alone. But I'm sorry if I've been too pushy. I know I at least shouldn't have spent the night here. You know I was here last night, right?" he asked, suddenly concerned she didn't even know. She nodded.

"You had such a high fever, and your breathing was so awful, I was just worried. I called the health line, and they told me to monitor you, and I didn't know how to do that without being here with you. I do realize it's awful of me to... to barge into your bed like that. I'm sorry."

He looked at his plate, at her, at his plate again.

"I'll just shut up now," he concluded meekly.

"No, it's okay," she said. "More than okay. I didn't expect you to be so... caring. I don't know anyone, so I had no one to ask, but then finally I just had to. I'm glad it was you. I don't know how to ever pay you back."

She gestured over her food. "And now, this," she said. "And you even cleaned up after my cat."

He shrugged. "I'm just glad you're feeling better. I'll give you your keys back now."

She didn't say anything. They ate in silence. Afterwards they both hovered uncomfortably and then she said, "Would you keep the keys?"

"Yes, if you think it's best," he said, picking up his pan to go. His heart was thumping in his chest. She probably meant for him to come back, if she wanted him to keep the keys, and he couldn't really grasp what it implied. "Are you alright for now? Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good," she said. She moved to hug him for thanks, and then she seemed to realize she was in her grubby home clothes, and, quite frankly, filthy. She blushed deep red.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm disgusting. I didn't realize."

"No, you're not," he said encouragingly, and stroked her arm a little with the hand not holding the pan. "Just take a long bath, you'll feel better."

"Do you have a bathtub?" she asked.

"Yeah, don't you?" he replied. "You wanna use mine?"

He suddenly realized he was being overly pushy again. They didn't know each other, and he had no reason to assume she would want to come to his place to bathe, of all things. He blushed.

"I'd like that," she said. They looked at each other, both with their cheeks burning. He turned to the door, thoroughly out of balance.

"You wanna come over now, or sometime later?" he asked. "I need to work, but you can come bathe if you wanna."

He almost hoped she would say later, so he would have time to recompose himself, but she followed him to his place. He showed her to the bathroom and went back to work. He calmed gradually when he wasn't face to face with her anymore, but thinking of her naked in his bathtub didn't help very much. He thought of her slender body, how her breasts would float in the water, and wondered if she had shaved her pubic hair.

Now that was a thought that definitely didn't help him concentrate on his work.

He realized he hadn't given her a towel. He went to get one and spotted his bathrobe hanging on his bedroom door. He picked it up as well and went to knock on the bathroom door.

"Johanna?" he said. "I brought you a towel and a bathrobe, alright? I'll just leave them here."

There was a sobbing sound from the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She sobbed again. He hovered behind the door, conflicted. He couldn't enter, she was naked in there, but he couldn't ignore her crying.

"Johanna, talk to me," he said. "Why are you crying?"

She sobbed again. "I'm sorry," she said with a stuffy voice. "I just feel so stupid."

"Why?" he asked. She didn't answer.

"Listen, I'll just leave these out here, okay? Please come talk to me when you're done, I'll be in the living room."

He walked away, and it felt like he had abandoned her. He went to put the kettle on and thought he'd offer her afternoon tea after she had bathed.

Ten minutes later Johanna appeared. She stood by the living room doorway, wrapped in his gray fluffy bathrobe that was way too big for her. Her eyes were red, and she looked insecure and unhappy.

"Hi there," he said and got up, pushing his laptop away. "I was making tea. You want some?"

She shrugged, and he walked towards her to get to the kitchen. She looked so pitiful that an overwhelming need to just hold her filled his heart, and he stopped in front of her.

"I hope you weren't crying because of me," he said and touched her arm.

She looked like she wanted to flee. Her eyes darted from him to away and she said, quietly, "No, not like that. I just felt so stupid when I realized I didn't bring a towel, or a change of clothes or anything, I just barged in here. And then you brought me the towel and the robe, and it was so nice of you I cried some more. Does that even make sense? You've been so good to me. I'm not used to people being so good to me."

Relief washed through his system. Maybe he hadn't been too pushy after all.

Her eyes were a little glossy, and without thinking he lifted his hand from her arm and touched her forehead.

"I think your fever is going up again," he said. "Come on, sit down, I'll get you some tea."

She curled up in an armchair, legs folded under her, and sipped her tea obediently. She shivered every now and then, and he guessed she was chilly now that her temperature was rising. They chatted, talked about his work, then hers, then some general talk about the recent events in the neighborhood. She was three years younger than his 29, and worked mostly from home, just like he did. She was Swedish, like he'd guessed. She had come to Britain for a student exchange four years ago and decided to stay.

She was easy to talk to when she wasn't so upset. At times he even forgot to be shy and embarrassed. She seemed more relaxed as well, but she also looked tired.

"Do you want to borrow some of my clothes?" he asked. "Or do you want me to go and get some of yours? I think it might do you good to lie down for a while, you look a little pale again."

She blushed lightly and said, "Do you mean here?"

"Well, however you wish," he said. "I hadn't thought about it. But you know, even if you went home I would really like to come and check up on you later. I worry about you."

It was maybe a bit much to say, but she didn't look taken aback. Instead, she agreed. She asked meekly if he would let her borrow the robe, and then she went back home. He tried to wrap up his work and think about other things than her.

After he finished his work he agonized over how late 'later' was supposed to be. He wanted to go to her but didn't want to seem too intrusive. Around seven, he gave up and went over to her place. He considered ringing the doorbell, but settled on using the keys, thinking she might be sleeping.

She was, buried under a pile of blankets so that all he could see was the mop of her golden hair on the pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hi, Johanna," he said quietly. She didn't answer and he nudged her lightly. She still didn't react, and he tried her forehead.

She was really hot once again. He considered waking her up for dinner, but he knew well how fever killed the appetite, and she had eaten well enough at lunch. He let her sleep and went downstairs to make a few sandwiches for himself and feed the cat.

Musse came up to him the moment he opened the can of cat food. He set the food down, and the cat allowed him to pet it a little. After a minute, it turned its yellow eyes up to him as if to say, really? Don't you have someplace to be?

Samuel did. He went back upstairs, and sat by Johanna, guarding her in her sleep.

She was so cute. She looked so young when she slept. He let her golden locks flow through his fingers, and marveled at the silky quality. He thought he should go. She was alright. She had a fever, but her breathing was much better than the previous night. He had no reason to think she would drop dead if he wasn't keeping an eye on her. Yet he didn't leave, he sat and watched her sleep, stroking her hair.

She woke up with a jolt, and turned to look at him.

"Samuel?"

"Hi there," he said softly.

She answered with a sleepy ramble in Swedish. The only thing he could distinguish was his own name, which she repeated a few times.

"I wish I knew what it is you just said," he said gently. She looked at him, or at least his general direction, her eyes shining with fever. He touched her cheek lightly. She took hold of his hand with hers and pulled on it, tugging him closer.

To hell with it. He just didn't want to go. He lay down next to her, and she moved over to give him room. He snuggled next to her, and she pressed into his arms like she'd always been there, like she belonged there. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the scent from her hair, a whiff of his own shampoo but also of her, a little stuffy and sweaty again now that she was so sick. He thought she could smell like shit, and he'd love it.

She mumbled something in Swedish again and relaxed, her arm around his waist.

He held her and felt his heart swell almost painfully. She was so small, and soft, and adorable. He just wanted to do everything in his power to keep her safe, make her happy, make everything right for her.

He stroked her narrow, hot back with the tips of his fingers, tracing the edge of her shoulder blade. His mom always used to say that's where angels' wings were attached, and he pictured her as an angel, one of those impossibly pretty ladies in his childhood picture books. It wasn't even difficult to picture, though he'd always thought angels were really tall.

She had on a nightgown tonight, not the baggy type of pajama shirt she'd had earlier. It was soft and felt good under his palm. In addition to that - oh god. He felt her hot legs against his sweatpants, and by the feel of it he suspected they were nude. It was unnerving enough, but then she moved a little to get closer and he realized it felt like she had no panties on.

Suddenly he got very warm. He pushed the blankets off his side that wasn't against her and adjusted himself, making sure he didn't poke her with his dick. He was hard again, and he thought he probably would be for the entire night. He remembered her dream from last night, and it certainly didn't help matters.

Now he regretted staying. He was certain she would be appalled if she woke up and found him so aroused. He tried to get back to the angelic thoughts, but it was difficult once he'd let himself get on this more carnal level. He pictured himself with horns sticking from his forehead and a pitchfork in his hand and suppressed a nervous giggle. She was sleeping peacefully, and it consoled him to know she knew nothing of his thoughts.

—#—#—#—#—#—

Samuel woke up with Johanna snug against him. He held on to her quite tightly, one arm under her head and one hand on her stomach. His nose was nuzzled to the nape of her neck and her scent filled his head with every breath. She smelled so good, somehow warm and familiar. He thought wistfully how wonderful it would be to get used to that scent, to wake up to it every morning and fall asleep with it every night. He could feel her warm, nimble body against all of his frontside. She felt warm but not burning hot anymore.

His dick was so hard it was almost painful. It was firmly pressed between the warm, smooth globes of her perfect posterior.

He breathed out a quivering sigh. Was she sleeping? Maybe she hadn't noticed. He almost panicked but didn't dare move. Besides, it felt so, so good.

She stirred. She was going to wake up and catch him pressing against her. Any second now.

She moved against him, rubbing her butt against his cock, and he sighed again.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked, just as quietly.

"Well, because."

"Because you've got an erection? Don't be. It feels nice."

"Nice?" he asked, not comprehending.

"Samuel," she said quietly, still rubbing against him lightly, still her back towards him. "Would you make love with me?"

"What?" he said weakly. His cock twisted against her. She turned her head a little so that his nose got closer to her ear.

"Well, I... this is a little embarrassing. But I kinda want you. And I don't want to wait, I don't want to date and take weeks to get to it. I mean I wouldn't mind dating you, but I would really want to just skip all that and have you right now. But please say no if you don't wanna. Some people think men always want it, but it's okay not to, you know."

She had stopped her grind, and just waited for his answer. Was this some sort of a joke? It didn't feel like a joke.

He wanted nothing in life more than to make love to her right now.

"Uh... I really, really do want to make love to you," he said sincerely. "But are you still sick? I think you're a bit warm, still."

"Not too sick, I reckon," she said and took hold of his hand which was still on her abdomen. She pushed it lower, and he got her hint and started to move it himself.

He found the hem of her nightgown and her warm skin underneath. He went up to her stomach first, touching the same spot he'd touched over her gown. Her skin was perfect, soft and warm and smooth. He searched for her belly button, swept over it lightly and traced downward.

Her pubic hair was soft and curly, and he was dying to see if its color matched her hair. He was breathing heavy, but so was she, she pressed against him and lifted her right leg up over his to give him more space. He found the warm folds of her pussy and stroked it with the tips of his fingers, and they both moaned when he spread the fluid seeping from within her on her labia.

"You're perfect," he whispered and kissed her neck.

"You're easily impressed," she whispered back and moaned when he probed deeper.

She was hot and slippery. He slid his fingers over her, along her, in her, and her breathing got irregular. His cock was throbbing against her, and he was moving it a little, grinding against her now.

He kissed her neck, the arch of her ear, then sucked her lobe into his mouth. She made a sound and turned more towards him. He was disappointed to lose contact with her butt but didn't complain, since now he could kiss along her cheek to her lips. He kept exploring her pussy, occasionally circling her clitoris but mostly keeping lower.

They kissed. Her lips were soft and delicious, her morning breath not so much so, and after a minute or so it occurred to him it maybe wasn't wise to try and lick her tonsils when she had this killer flu. There was nothing short of a heart attack that could've stopped him now, though, and so he just kissed her deeper.

She tried to slip her hand into his pants, but the angle wasn't right. She grunted, exasperated, and tried to push his pants down instead. He wiggled his hips to help, and slowly and laboriously they managed to get them down enough to grant her access to his penis. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked him evaluatively. He broke the kiss and pressed his face into her hair.

"Ah, I hope you're not after a marathon session," he whispered in her ear. "You've got me going already."

She laughed softly. "No, I think I'm beyond that as well," she said. "Just come here, will ya?"

She pulled him on top of her, and he let his fingers out of her and complied. She still had a hold of his penis, and now she moved it against her slit. He pushed to nudge her clitoris and she let out a small moan, similar to the ones she'd made the previous night in her sleep. He gasped, feeling the overwhelming onslaught of lust that welled up inside him in response. He thought he should touch her more, maybe go down on her, but she guided him into her and he had no power to resist.

She was slick and tight. He slid deeper and realized she was hot, too hot, she still had fever. It felt peculiar, like sticking his dick into molten lava. It felt extremely good, but he was worrying it might not be the same for her. He remembered the weird sensation of having fever, how it sensitized the skin so that taking a shower felt like needles, and he wondered how it translated to this. He thought he better be as gentle as he could, just in case.

He pulled out a little, pushed deeper and sighed. Oh, good god. She undulated around him and it felt extraordinary, all her hot pressure surrounding him. He kept going until he was fully buried in her. He had been supporting his weight on his straight arms, but now he lowered himself in his elbows, to get closer to her. Her eyes were dark and serious. He kissed her.