Chapter Text
Ken wouldn't stop sneezing after he took a hit in the face, moments before Paildramon delivered a fierce Elemental Bolt and sent the creature slinking off into the distance. They were all too preoccupied with making sure Ken was okay to see where it went. Sure, the hit had been mostly some weird pink powder, but he'd washed his face after the battle, and still, the sneezing continued.
That was the first sign something was wrong.
The second sign was the stumbling.
Ken was always graceful, so stumbling was weird to say the least. He was disoriented, unable to hold himself up, and when Daisuke caught his arm to steady him, his skin was on fire.
When Ken grabbed a tree for support and hunched over to retch everything from their last meal onto its exposed roots, Daisuke wasn't sure if that was the third sign or the fifth.
Whichever one, there were too many signs.
Ken was sick.
They'd made camp immediately, and Daisuke helped Ken wash out his mouth and settle in a comfortable position around a fire while Daisuke shot emails back and forth with Miyako and Koushiro to figure out what to do. Ken fell asleep immediately, no matter how uncomfortable the ground was.
Unfortunately, the Digimon wasn't showing any data in Daisuke's D-Terminal, not even a name. There was just…nothing.
An uncomfortable email conversation with Miyako and Koushiro and an even more uncomfortable in-person conversation with Wormmon and V-mon later, they agreed the most realistic option was for Miyako and the others to track the Digimon down and try to learn more about it.
They hadn't heard anything by the time Ken woke up.
Daisuke, Wormmon, and V-mon, though, hadn't left his side.
"Where are we?" was the first thing out of Ken's mouth as he hugged Wormmon to his chest, dilated eyes darting around, examining their surroundings. "Why do I feel so hot?"
His Digimon nuzzled his cheek, worry tensing the caterpillar's antennae before he turned toward the others. "Daisuke? Check his temperature?"
Daisuke slowly approached and dropped to his knees beside Ken's trembling form. "Hey," he murmured, leaning in to press a hand to his sweaty forehead, a frown twisting his mouth downward. "Your skin is on fire."
Ken turned to him, eyes big and dark and mesmerizing, before leaning into Daisuke's hand, pressing his cheek firmly against the palm. "This feels good," he mumbled, breathless, his eyes fluttering shut.
A soft sigh fell from Ken's pink lips, but he was still shaking against Daisuke's calloused palm, definitely still sick.
"Wish we had an actual thermometer…" Daisuke frowned and pulled away, drawing a small whine from deep in Ken's throat. "Maybe Miyako has an idea how we can check your temperature?" He pulled out his D-Terminal to shoot her and Koushiro another email, mouth contorted in worried concentration.
"Hmm?"
He glanced up to find Ken looking at him curiously, blinking his eyes slowly like he was still tired to focus. "Um, I'm just emailing Miyako and Koushiro, okay? They're super smart and not delirious—I'm sure they'll know what to do now that you're awake and we can ask you actual questions."
Ken cocked his head. "You know Miyako-san and Koushiro-san?"
Daisuke froze. "What? I've known them as long as you have, Ken. Longer."
His pretty face scrunched into a frown, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, Ken stretched out to grab his hand and pull it back, to press his palm to Ken's cheek again and sigh in pleasure at the contact.
Ken's skin was insanely hot, to the point where it felt like it was scalding him, but Daisuke cupped his cheek. He was always Ken's rock, his support, his protector, and now would be no different. He was going to take care of Ken if it was the last thing he did.
"That feels good," Ken mumbled, and he reached for Daisuke's other hand, pulling him in—making Daisuke drop his D-Terminal—to lay the palm to the side of his neck. A pleased moan tumbled from his pink lips at the touch, and he held his hands over Daisuke's to keep them firmly in place, pressing them harder and harder into his skin.
Daisuke, awkwardly hovering over him, tried to think through what to do from here, but trying to hold himself up in this position wouldn't last much longer. "Uh, Ken?"
"Hmm?"
The rumble in Ken's throat sent soft vibrations through Daisuke's hand and up his arm, and his pretty blue-violet eyes fluttered closed, then open again before settling on Daisuke's face.
"I have to email Miyako and Koushiro," he said, shifting to keep from falling on top of Ken. "Need at least one hand to do that."
But Ken shook his head and tugged him even closer.
Daisuke toppled down, landing haphazardly on top of him, and barely managed to right himself before he crushed Ken entirely. "Hey, what are you doing?" he gasped, catching his breath. A slow rumble inside Ken's throat shocked his eyes wide, and Daisuke wetted his lips, uncertain.
"Your touch is nice," Ken mumbled, his eyes falling shut with a soft sigh. "You're cool next to my skin, but…you're normally hot, right?" His beautiful blue-violet eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated wide, to meet Daisuke's. "What did you say your name was?"
Chest aching, Daisuke started to pull away.
He had no idea how to respond to that, what to say to his best friend not recognizing him anymore—yet still remember all their friends? Was this from the effects of that weird pink powder? How did that even make sense?
"Oh, um, it's Daisuke," he said softly, uncertain. "I'm…Daisuke."
It seemed useless to say he was Ken's best friend, his partner, his nakama. It wouldn't make any difference under the circumstances.
Ken studied him from under his lashes, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes dark and dilated. "My skin feels like it's on fire, like I'm going to burst from the pressure," he murmured. "Will you help cool me down, Daisuke?"
He worried his lip, irritation coiling in his abdomen at the realization that his body was already reacting to Ken's sultry voice and flustered appearance. "How would I do that?" Daisuke mumbled.
Heaving, Ken tried to push forward to reach him better, sweat gathering on his temples and forehead. "Touch me…"
Daisuke wetted his lips.
Him talking like that, practically begging Daisuke to touch him, panting and sweating and flushing, sent a powerful jolt of desire through his veins, tearing right into Daisuke's chest. It wasn't anywhere near appropriate, but that didn't stop his body from leaning in, from curling toward Ken's desperate voice.
Tempering himself, Daisuke pressed a palm to Ken's feverish cheek, swiping his thumb over the ridge just below his eye. "Anything else?" he mumbled.
Ken whimpered, pressing into the touch. "No," he murmured, grabbing Daisuke's other hand again and slamming the palm against his chest so he can feel the rapid beat pounding inside. "Touch me."
Daisuke inhaled sharply but didn't pull away, even when Ken released his hands to tear at his shirt, fumbling to undo the buttons and reveal the skin beneath. "K-Ken…what are you doing?"
But Ken quivered, struggling to put his thoughts into words, struggling to speak at all. "I…I need to feel you."
The part that broke Daisuke was the confusion that laced the words, like Ken himself had no idea why he needed the physical contact—and if he truly couldn't remember Daisuke, couldn't remember their connection, he wouldn't know why.
"I'm so hot," Ken whined, pushing forward, glassy eyes big and eager and a little scared, "and you'll make me feel better, I know it."
He'd do his best, but…
"What can I do?" Daisuke asked. "How can I help?"
"I don't…I don't know," he barely managed to say, but his body quaked and trembled, jerking with a necessity he couldn't voice or explain. "I just need you."
With a sigh, Daisuke leaned down, releasing the tension in his form so he could relax his hand over Ken's chest and feel the beat of his heart—it was too fast, too hard, somehow both too faint and too loud at the same time. "I'm here," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll always be here for you."
A powerful pulse jolted through Ken, his body convulsing, and Daisuke pressed his hand harder against the throbbing heart threatening to burst out of his chest.
Daisuke did a visual check, seeing if he could pinpoint something beyond the fever that could be causing this, and his eyes froze at the sight of the bulge in Ken's skintight jeans.
That…well, that changed things.
One more "symptom" to tell Miyako and Koushiro about—when he managed to grab his D-Terminal again and email them.
Fuck, this was the last thing Ken would ever want Miyako and Koushiro to know about, but there really was no reason for him to be feeling that, for his body to react like that right now. It had to be related.
Daisuke started to pull back to grab his D-Terminal.
But Ken let out a long whine and latched onto him, fingers digging into his forearm. "Don't, don't go," he whimpered, drawing him in till Daisuke was practically on top of him.
"I told you," Daisuke murmured softly, running his free hand through Ken's stringy hair, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here with you, I promise. Always."
That didn't stop Ken from dragging him even closer, practically panting in Daisuke's face now, and Daisuke fumbled for a handhold, falling on top of him, thigh grazing the bulge in Ken's skinny jeans—
A sharp moan flew from Ken's mouth, and he jerked his hips upward, seeking more contact.
"Ken?"
Daisuke winced at his voice—breathless and high-pitched and panicking—but Ken didn't respond other than to tug him forward, forcing Daisuke to slot his leg between Ken's, hands landing on either side of Ken's waist.
"I'm overheating," Ken heaved, clamping his eyes shut and rocking against Daisuke's knee, sharp nails digging into one arm and holding him in place. "God, why is my body on fire?"
All too quickly, Ken wasn't the only one whose body burned.
Daisuke pulled away immediately, tearing his arm from Ken's sharp grip, but as much as Ken whined at his departure, Daisuke didn't know what else to do. There weren't any other options.
If he stayed too close, something might happen, Daisuke might do something, and Ken was sick, definitely not in his right mind. Ken would hate him afterward, and he'd hate what he'd allowed himself to do, hate himself for hurting Ken.
Ken didn't deserve that.
But without Daisuke on top of him, Ken started yanking and tugging at his button-up shirt. "It's too hot, too hot," he whispered, desperately trying to free himself.
"Hey, hey, hey, wait a minute," Daisuke mumbled, frantic, breath catching, and pressed close again to keep those buttons securely in place. "What are you doing, Ken? You can't just—take your clothes off—"
Ken looked up at him with big glistening eyes, his heaving breath ghosting over Daisuke's face.
Suddenly, Daisuke realized how close they were.
Up close, Ken's cheeks were particularly flushed, his dark pink lips parted, eyes dilated, and he panted, desperately out of breath, his heart beating so hard Daisuke could hear the blood pumping through his ears.
Or maybe that was his own heartbeat.
Whimpering, Ken reached out for him, arms hooking around his neck too easily, and dragged him down till their hips clashed. Daisuke barely caught himself before he crushed Ken entirely, but Ken let out a low keening cry at the sudden contact and rocked their hips together.
"Ken…" he rumbled, voice pitched low, but Ken didn't seem to hear him.
Ken's long arms released the back of his neck, but instead of letting him go, they slid down, down, down to grab his hips and keep him firmly in place, their bodies smashed together.
Strong electric currents shot down Daisuke's spine, and as much as he tried not to react, the moment Ken spread his legs wide and rutted up into him, he couldn't stop the way his body pulsed and spasmed in response.
Face buried in Ken's neck, Daisuke breathed in his scent, overwhelmed by the flowery shampoo and sweat and a hint of something sickeningly sweet, and let himself rock into Ken's determined movements.
He was hard way too fast.
Losing himself in the moment, he took a long deep breath and buried his teeth in Ken's neck, biting and sucking at the tender flesh till Ken trembled and moaned. He trailed a row of dark bruises along Ken's pristine porcelain skin until he met Ken's jaw and pulled back enough to capture his pink lips in a greedy kiss, panting Ken's name with each gasping breath.
Ken moaned with him, incoherent, and bucked his hips to a spastic rhythm, like if he pushed hard enough, they could actually merge into one—
Daisuke wanted to.
Slender fingers threaded through his hair, tugging hard on the strands, though one hand stayed at his hip, digging into the bone. Ken inhaled sharply at a particularly fierce thrust and sighed into the soft roll of Daisuke's hips that came afterward. He panted, tried to speak, but the words refused, until he finally managed to gasp out, "Wh-who are you?"
Daisuke froze.
"You said your name before...what is it?"
Nausea welled in his stomach, and he ripped out of Ken's arms again, putting as much space as possible so they weren't touching anymore.
Ken whined in the back of his throat, blinking blearily at him.
Daisuke buried his face in his hands, sighing. "You really don't remember me, do you? How can you not…?" He rubbed his thumbs over his eyes, digging in till they hurt.
How could Ken forget him, yet remember Miyako and Koushiro? Wormmon, sure, he could get that, but Ken had known Daisuke for exactly the same amount of time as he'd known Miyako and Koushiro and the rest of the Chosen Children.
How in the world could this sickness, whatever it was, just erase Daisuke from his memory? As if they weren't linked eternally by a profound bond? As if their hearts had never synchronized?
Daisuke felt sick.
Both with himself—he'd gotten too distracted and overwhelmed to stop, he'd touched Ken when Ken was unwell—and with the situation.
But he didn't have time to panic, no matter how much his heart ached.
He took a deep breath and scrounged around for the D-Terminal he'd dropped earlier, trying to ignore the way Ken squirmed and writhed not too far away, tearing open his shirt and unveiling the lovely porcelain skin under—
Finally, Daisuke pulled up the email conversation with Miyako and Koushiro and typed up his "report," trying to be as discreet as possible about Ken's little problem. Sure, that was definitely connected, but Ken would be absolutely mortified if their friends knew he had an uncontrollably hard erection right now.
Wormmon and V-mon curled up next to him while they waited, the caterpillar shivering with concern, and Wormmon asked, "Ken-chan's going to be okay, right?"
Daisuke nodded. "I'm going to make sure he is."
V-mon squeezed his Jogress partner. "Of course Ken'll be fine. Daisuke's gonna take care of him for sure."
The email responses were slow—though perhaps Daisuke was a bit impatient—but he soaked them up when they finally rolled in.
Koushiro encouraged them to try to calm Ken down, to help him relax so he could heal better, and if he needed physical contact to achieve that, Daisuke should give him as much physical contact as he could tolerate.
Miyako's email arrived right after that, agreeing. Ken needed to rest, and if Daisuke and the Digimon being close, helped him rest, that's what they should do.
Daisuke swallowed.
Perhaps not being forthright about exactly what kind of physical contact Ken wanted from him had backfired, but aside from Ken, they were the smartest people he knew.
Maybe…
Maybe if Ken got the sort of touch he wanted, if he got to touch Daisuke how he wanted, he'd calm down and relax and sleep through whatever sickness that Digimon had caused.
His eyes darted up to find Ken with his shirt half undone, panting and fanning himself, hips jerking of their own accord, barely able to see the world right in front of him. If possible, it was getting worse.
Maybe it would help him.