#give me my fucking sinuses back. now. scoundrel
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my fucking ear is clogged again </3
#marzi speaks#STILL feeling the repercussions of getting sick back in may :(#the congestion is insane. my ear is so clogged that i can barely hear out of it#at least in comparison to normal#i WOULD grab a q-tip but that doesn’t actually help. i should buy an ear cleaning kit or smth#it’s fucked. did i get some kinda fucked up rhinovirus#before u say anything it wasn’t covid. it wasn’t respiratory and the test came back negative#(i forgot to test bc i was convinced it was really bad allergies but when my mom caught it she tested negative)#my mom’s theory was that is was some new crazy rhinovirus going around. but holy shit dude i am not happy with how badly this has fucked up#my sinuses#give me my fucking sinuses back. now. scoundrel
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Carriage Shenanigans - (m/m) Eliseo/Padgett
I FORGOT ONE
MESS (like seriously, it’s GROSS) and sneezing on very willing participant, NSFW, semi-public - They fuck in a carriage.
No promises, but I might write another story with Eliseo sick since I know a few people have wanted that.
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The countryside south of Harwichport was coloring with the first blush of summer. Horses and cattle grazed in pastures alongside the road. Plants had unfurled from their sheltering against the frost and now reached curiously through fences toward the sun. Early flowers waved in a breeze that had not quite shed the spring cold. Eliseo glanced away from the carriage window to the seat across from him. His lover, Padgett, was leaning against the wall, head pillowed against a rolled jacket. He also hadn’t quite shed his spring cold, and he’d been snoring gently since falling asleep an hour ago.
He seemed to wake now. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked back at Eliseo. In the dim light of the carriage, his eyes were a soft forest green. He smiled. “Hey,” he murmured. “Bored?”
Eliseo put aside his novel after slipping a silk ribbon into place as a bookmark. “Maybe a little. The farms all look alike out in this part of the county.” Picturesque stone cottages with wooden additions for growing families, red barns that needed a summer coat of paint, fields tilled for wheat or oats, scarecrows in plaid. “Bellecourt should be turned out when we get there tomorrow, though. Father sent Grimsley and the other servants ahead.”
“Will you have to work?”
Eliseo sighed with an edge of frustration. “Maybe. Marcello is having his prospective wife around at the beginning of the season. He’s asked for me to get the place into shape for entertaining her family. He’s far too busy to do it himself, of course. Playing with his new cutter down on the Niamh. I think he means to race it.” He leaned his cheek on his palm. “The sketch he sent me made it look like a potato with sails, but I expect it’s prettier in person.”
Padgett sniffed. “Not very responsible of him.” His voice was a bit thick with congestion, but his tone was good-natured. Eliseo tried not to stare at Padgett’s red nose, but he wasn’t sure whether he was successful.
“Not particularly. But that’s Marcello for you.”
Padgett sat up and laid his jacket on the seat beside him. “What happens if you can’t make those preparations?” He paused for a moment, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Anythih- hh– anything bad? Hahktsch!”
“Huh?” Eliseo licked his lips. “Ah, he’d probably have to come down a few days earlier…”
Padgett sneezed again, a wet sound not well muffled by the cloth. “Haptschiu!” Without blowing his nose, he said, “You couldn’t work if you were sick. I wouldn’t let you.”
A thrill went through Eliseo from his heart to his groin, but he started to shake his head. “Padgett.”
“Come here, Eli.” Padgett held out a hand, putting the handkerchief to the side. “You’re hardly ever sick. You might not even catch it.” He smiled slyly. “And you’ve been so good to me the past few days. You must have been struggling.”
“For the love of God.” Eliseo could feel himself blushing scarlet… and his trousers felt awfully tight all of a sudden. “You are a scoundrel and a menace.” He lowered his voice. “What exactly do you mean to do in a carriage, Padgett?”
“Whatever you’ll let me,” Padgett replied, matching his volume to Eliseo’s. It came out sultry, heightened by the roughness of his voice. Still, seeing that Eliseo was making no move to get up, Padgett braced a hand on the gently swaying carriage wall and inserted himself onto the bench seat beside his lover. Eliseo made a token protest, but that was all. When Padgett took his hands and laced their fingers, Eliseo found himself mute, gaze fixed on the wetness gathered at Padgett’s nostrils.
“We have to be quiet,” he said, finally, just to say something.
Indulgent, Padgett nodded. “Of course, my Lord; quiet as church mice. Now, will you kiss me?”
Their mouths met in a bloom of heat. Padgett pressed their tongues together, treasured Eliseo’s lips, nipped until Eliseo deepened the kiss. Between breaths, he chased Padgett’s mouth with his own, caught up, until he was practically in Padgett’s lap. Padgett ran his hands down Eliseo’s back, reassuring, encouraging, until he could slip them up under the edge of Eliseo’s waistcoat and worry his shirttails from his waistband like an excited dog with an errant pillow.
Eliseo laid a hand alongside Padgett’s jaw, slipped his fingers into the unruly curls at Padgett’s nape, and kissed his nose. He wasn’t shy; he drew his tongue over Padgett’s septum, tasted salt, pressed his lips to gently crush a nostril closed. He shut his eyes in pleasure. When Padgett’s breath hitched moments later, Eliseo drew back, flushed and loose, resting his thumb at the corner of Padgett’s lips. “I want you to sneeze on me,” he said, almost inaudible over the carriage wheels but straightforward and plainly desirous.
Padgett smiled. Eliseo was ever beautiful to him, but no more so than when he was free with himself. “Hh- hh- I will, Eli. Your neck?” He could feel his nostrils flaring and knew his nose was running by the slick feeling on his lip and Eliseo’s soft moan both.
“No,” Eliseo said. He tilted his face and kissed Padgett again. He didn’t move far after.
Padgett let his eyes slip closed and gave over to the itch in his nose. It was deep-seated, caught in his sinuses, radiating outward in scratchy hints of irritation. He had been at its mercy all of the previous day, so much so that Eliseo had postponed their trip, although probably equally for his own peace of mind as Padgett’s health. He had no reservations now, waiting for Padgett to give in, face upturned.
“Hh- hah- hahktschiu!” Padgett ducked forward, overcome in a rush. Mess ran down over his chin; its evacuation filled him with a momentary ease, a relief from the thick prison of congestion. Eliseo moaned and pressed closer. His face was lightly dusted with droplets and now his mouth was on Padgett’s again. Sighing into the kiss, skin heated, Eliseo had given up any pretense of reluctance. He rocked his hips, rubbed his clothed erection against Padgett’s thigh. His tongue darted out again and he started to lave Padgett’s lip and streaming nose.
Padgett groaned and moved to undo Eliseo’s fly before his smallclothes became a casualty. He remembered the first time they did this and how shy Eliseo had been then, although he’d had even less control over his body’s actions. “I love you so much,” Padgett said, trading kisses, letting Eliseo have him. “You’ll make me hih- make me sn- nnh– sneeze again, love.”
“Ah, please,” Eliseo moaned, and he pressed his cock into Padgett’s palm, overeager. “You ruinous- you ruin me.”
“Hh-hold still, easy,” Padgett murmured, nuzzling against Eliseo’s chin, then his cheek. The itch had come back and he trembled with it, chest working fitfully. “Hh- hah- hhih-” He drew back again, felt Eliseo tense in his lap. “Hakschtcht! Huh- huhktschiuh!” Again, the relief, a hot tension through his abdomen. He felt Eliseo’s thighs close around his own, felt Eliseo’s cock throb in his palm. He closed his fingers around it, started to stroke. He was almost overwhelmed with an urge to take down Eliseo’s trousers and bury himself between those thighs but- but the carriage bumped over a rut in the road and he was shaken unfortunately back to the reality of where they were.
It didn’t seem to bother Eliseo anymore. He rocked into the circle of Padgett’s fingers, his own precome serving to slick the way, raining kisses over Padgett’s face. “When we get to the hotel,” he said, half-gasping, “ I want you to sneeze on my cock.” He moaned. “Fuck, fuck-”
“God, Eli, I will,” Padgett groaned. He increased his pace. “Come for me, baby, come on.”
It didn’t take long. Never a special fan of sport, Eliseo was nonetheless more than fit for his lover. He keened with his release, tucking his face into Padgett’s shoulder to muffle his voice. Whether from temporary deafness or inviolable decorum, the coachman kept on without an inquiry. Padgett enfolded Eliseo into a tight embrace and rocked him gently through his orgasm, his own erection trapped in his breeches still. He had no trouble encouraging Eliseo to see to it when the latter had calmed.
They arrived at the hotel by 7 PM. The coachman opened the door to find both of his patrons looking as put-together as they had when they left. If they blushed slightly to see him, he ignored that. He was, and always would be, a consummate professional.
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