#nametakenfic
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Revelation (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)
Okay. Follow up fic to 'Suggestible'! two of three down - this one ended up at 5.6K
H/arry remembers that he has a certain interest in sneezing after K/im has an allergic reaction to dust
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Content:
M/M (one-sided so far), past M/F, cold sneezes, sneezing from dust allergies, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, masturbation, PIV sex (past), sneezing while hiding, sneezing into someone's hand, little bit of voyeurism, embarrassment/humiliation, H/arry lowkey realises he is bisexual
CW: drug and alcohol mentions, self-hatred, H/arry is a general mess
NB - like the last fic, please don't read if you plan on playing the game and don't want certain elements of it spoiled!
NSFW af, Minors DNI Please!
“…etective. Detective. Harry.”
You stir, groaning as a soft voice awakens you from another restless sleep. Looking up, you see Lieutenant Kitsuragi sitting on the edge of your bed. He looks down at you – he does not smile, but his face is patient and calm. You realise that he has been gently jostling your shoulder, and the motion combined with his voice has pulled you out of the inky depths of primordial slumber. The one bleary eye you have opened locks with one of his own – now he smiles at you. It is a warm smile.
“Finally, you’re awake. I was starting to think no amount of shaking would stir you.”
He sounds amused. You struggle to remember why the Lieutenant is sat here, in your room, waking you up like a personal alarm clock. The arrangement these past few days had been to meet downstairs in the morning. An explanation for the change eludes you.
“How are you feeling?”
You groan. A garbling, miserable and melodramatic groan like a recalcitrant teenager being roused for school. The Lieutenant’s warm expression darkens ever so slightly. He sighs.
“That bad, hm? I was hoping some sleep would do you good, but…”
He trails off, looking troubled. You blink, stupidly, and focus all your might in an attempt to remember. It seems to be all you ever do these days. This time, however, your alcohol-pickled brain actually pulls through. A nap. You’ve been catching a cold, and it had finally proved too much for you. Kim said that he would wake you up. It all comes flooding back at once – including the graphic and picture-perfect memory of Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi sneezing. Just thinking about the sight and sound of it begins to rouse you more than a cup of the strongest, most bitter coffee the hostel has to offer could ever manage.
You feel suddenly, entirely insecure. You had been sneezing – loudly, frequently, all over the place. As you push yourself up in bed, you fight to suppress a blush. Kim stands and regards you behind his glasses, offering an outstretched hand. You look up at him and accept it, letting him pull you to your feet. He is stronger than you expected for his lithe, slender build. Your wrist seems almost twice as thick as his own. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised in question as he takes in your burning face.
“Detective, do you have a fever?”
Fuck. Nice one, Harry. You manage to compose yourself. It’s just the hangover, you tell him. He looks only partially convinced.
“Right. If you say so.”
The raised eyebrow stays there, and he shrugs almost imperceptibly. You head into the bathroom and quickly splash your face with water – from the bathtub faucet. The sink remains irreparably damaged as a result of your drug-fuelled bender. Over the sound of the water, you tell the Lieutenant you’re feeling much better – and it’s true. The tickle appears to have receded to more of a low-grade buzz. The cold sea air had clearly irritated you something fierce. After your nap, you can tell that you are still unwell – but it is minor, and certainly doesn’t make you feel much worse than you already did before.
“That’s good, detective. I’m glad to hear it.”
Kim smiles at you as you walk back into the bedroom. He means it, as well. Relief is practically plastered on his face. He would very much like to return to the case. You want to return to it yourself – get this fucking mess over with and remember who you are so that you can decide whether to drink yourself into oblivion or not.
Lieutenant Kitsuragi tells you that he will meet you on the ground floor in a matter of minutes – he needs to retrieve some things from his room. You go ahead and stand awkwardly near the bar once you’re downstairs – far enough away that you do not have to look Garte in the eye. You suddenly feel the tickle threatening to return. You press one forefinger firmly under your flaring nostrils – miraculously, this works. You do not sneeze, although you feel as though you soon might.
Kim joins you and the pair of you make your way outside. The Lieutenant lets you lead. You have a few ideas of where you ought to go next – you will try Klaasje later this evening, after a few more affairs. But first, you feel the need to empower yourself. You are tired of feeling like a loser. You refuse to submit to the cold in your nose. You are not the kind of man to let physical suffering beat you down – emotional, no doubt. But physically, you are stalwart. You are a fitness king – or, you have feeling you used to be, despite the unfortunate beer gut. You don’t know where this thought comes from, but you know it to be true. You remember the abandoned gym in the doomed commercial area – especially that heavily weighted barbell. It beckons to you and your machismo. You feel like you should be able to lift it – no, you can lift it. You will lift it. You jog ahead, leading Kim en route through the bookshop. You ignore the wary glances Plaisance directs towards you, clutching the totem at her neck as if you yourself are one of the evil spirits she so fears.
You walk into the gym. Dust motes spin and spiral through the air in the rays of the setting sun. They seem almost to dance as even the slightest motion of movement stirs them. You stride towards the weights. As you look down at them, positioning your feet in an optimum stance, your ears perk up at a small sound. It isn’t terribly loud, but it is intrusive in the otherwise silent room. You realise with a mixture of pleasure and dismay that Kim is sniffling. You want to look at his face so badly. You want to watch his nostrils twitch and flare. You still don’t understand these desires. With all your effort, you fight the urge to stare and wrap your palms around the cool metal of the barbell, gripping it tight.
Now this feels familiar. This feels practiced. You feel your muscles coil and tense in preparation of the lift. It is exhilarating. You take one last breath, and - you’re doing it! You’re lifting the weights above your head with nary a tremble. Perfect form. You are a muscle god.
You eventually drop the weights with a solid thud – they almost bounce on the floor, a testament to how heavy they are. The floor, caked so heavily in dust that the original colouring is almost imperceptible, shudders with the disturbance. Two clouds of dust arise, the plumes quickly dissipating into the surrounding air. The dancing dust motes spiral faster in the beams of light.
You look towards Kim with a cocky grin. Yes, Lieutenant. How do you like those apples? You are delighted to see that his lips have quirked up in a slight smile of admiration.
“Impressive form, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.”
He uses your full title – a sign of respect. And you have earned it, buddy. You are the man. You feel confidence surging through you. You are going to solve this case. You’re going to solve this case so hard. You allow yourself to stand there a second longer, hands on hips and chest puffed out. It feels good to bask. Your morale soars.
“Okay, whilst that was definitely something, we should get ba-hh! Back t’to-!”
Your eyes are fixed on the Lieutenant at once. Those earlier sniffles appear to have done very little to quell whatever irritation is plaguing him. It dawns on you as you stare openly at Kim – the way his expression crumples, mouth opening in a yawn of irritation and eyes squinting closed – that it is incredibly dusty in this room. You had noticed this, of course – but what you did not notice, so distracted by your own drive to flex some serious muscle, was the effect it was having on your fellow officer. But you’ve noticed now. You continue to stare, watching as the Lieutenant falls to pieces in front of you.
A soft gasp graces the air as Lieutenant Kitsuragi inhales one final breath to fuel his sneezing. As before, he contracts into the protective half-cover of a raised fist. It is just far enough away from his face that you can still make out the flare of his nostrils, the way his mouth clamps stubbornly shut as the sneeze rocks his slender frame. He does it again, in just the same fashion as the first.
“hH’Ddt’ch!! H’Ngxttch!!”
Oh, but they sound so tickly. He has managed to bite them into submission – something that you find yourself continuously impressed by. This time, however, it sounds as though he is barely keeping it together. The furrowing of his brow and the clench in his jaw bely the intense effort he has to put into maintaining even this small amount of composure. Your mouth is dry in moments, and your stomach flips. You don’t think that even a gunshot could pull you out of your mesmerised gawking.
“Hohhh…”
Kim straightens up with a shuddering exhalation. Whilst he is finished for the moment, you see that he keeps a crooked finger pressed under his damp, twitching nostrils. It looks as though he will sneeze again very soon. You swallow – it is more of an audible gulp. You fight off another blush. These intense physical reactions require constant and taxing damage control. He squeezes his eyes shut, hard, then blinks reflexively several times. You notice that the whites of his eyes are suddenly quite pink. Bloodshot. By the looks of it, the Lieutenant is irrevocably, terribly allergic to dust. You try not to swoon as the realisation dawns on you.
“My apologies, detective. I’m allergic to the dust. It’s not normally this bad, but-!”
His expression crumples all at once. You continue to stare at him, ears burning as your mind loops this enticing confession, spoken with such dismay and desperation in the Lieutenant’s sultry accent. You cannot look away from the flared ellipses of his nostrils. The angry stretch of them is almost unrecognisable from their resting state. It is captivating.
The Lieutenant suddenly spins round, facing away from you. You are disappointed, and then deeply worried at the depths of this disappointment. You bury these thoughts and allow yourself to watch Kim’s shuddering back as he sneezes two more times.
“Hhupt’TSCHhh’uu!! HahDD’TZSCHHhht!!”
You cannot help yourself – you utter a small grunt as the sound of those unrestrained sneezes sucker punch you in the gut. You did not have to see the Lieutenant’s face to know they had been somewhat…productive. The spraying sound of them conjures the image of a fine aerosol bursting out from between Kim’s clenched teeth. You wish you could feel that spray on your skin.
Wait. What?
What the fuck??
All at once, it dawns on you. You like this. You like sneezing. Sneezing makes your cock hard. Sneezing makes you cum.
Of all the things to remember, why this? And why now? The Lieutenant is righting himself with an exhausted sigh. To your delight, you also hear him mutter an angry little ‘fuck’ under his breath.
Okay, Harry. You need to pull yourself together. You are moments away from sporting a solid erection the likes of which this world has never seen. Kim is an expert detective, and he will put two and two together immediately. You have to distract yourself. You try and think of Garte in lingerie. You try and think of dead puppies. House fires. World hunger.
These attempts to steer your mind away from this shocking revelation fail. Miserably. Your head is flooded with memories, coming at you one after another after another. You remember fucking her – you don’t remember who she is, just that it is her. You remember your sex, sometimes fumbling and over all too soon, sometimes languid and god-damn transcendental. You know, somehow, that you did not tell her about it. The sneezing thing. But you remember the sensation of her pussy contracting around your cock as she sneezed beautifully, all over your shoulder and catching the side of your face. You remember coming in luxurious waves, groaning loudly enough to make her jump before she was coming herself, gasping as you continued to fuck her right through it.
That memory used to be a fond one, you sense. An often revisited one as you took your cock in hand. Right now, it causes nothing but blinding pain – and an unfortunate erection. You thank whatever powers that may be that you decided to wear your long RCM patrol coat.
Even as you flounder, attempting to process the emotional pain these returning fragments of the past inflict upon you, your aching heart pounding in your chest – you watch as the Lieutenant yanks his handkerchief from his pocket and sneezes into it.
“hH-MPTschhh!! Ohh, mon dieu…”
He shudders with it. You hear the incredulity in his voice once the sneeze has torn its way through him, violently jostling him with its all-encompassing power. He is just as surprised by his own nuclear reaction to the dust as you are. This only makes your traitorous erection grow harder. You grit your teeth.
Another sneeze from the Lieutenant finally urges you to move. Do something, say anything, for the love of God. Kim is recovering from the sneeze, gasping into the handkerchief he clutches desperately to his face like a lifeline. You realise he will only continue to sneeze and sneeze if you do not get him out of this dusty death trap of a room. What you really want to do is unzip the fly of your trousers and go to town as the Lieutenant puts on a show for you. This is the stupidest thought you have had all day.
You make up your mind. Precariously holding the Tare bag in front of your straining trousers, you march up to the Lieutenant and wrap your arm around his slender waist, standing hip to hip. He understands instinctively that you are coming to his rescue; he reaches with one shaky arm to grip at the fabric of your coat between your shoulder blades. You tell him you’re getting him out of here, and to hold on tight.
He nods and attempts to apologise but is interrupted by yet another sneeze. He had foolishly lowered his handkerchief to address you and is unable to catch it in time. It is upon him so quickly that he only just manages to turn away from you. You shouldn’t be watching him, not if you want to gain some element of control over your burgeoning hard-on. But you do anyway. You see the cloud of delicate spray glitter briefly in the rays of sunlight before dissipating just as quickly as it appeared. You somehow manage not to cum in your pants and start guiding the Lieutenant out of the dusty gym, out of the bookshop. You gruffly mutter over your shoulder to an inquiring Plaisance that you have the situation under control. You are irritated that she called out to you at all – you do not want Kim to be more embarrassed than the flushed tips of his ears indicate he already is.
You manage to march him towards his Kineema as he continues to sneeze, opening the door for him and sitting him down while he recovers. You rub his back for a moment. He does not offer any resistance. The dust was definitely the source of his suffering, if you needed any further confirmation. (You did not.) He is already winding down, his breathing returning to normal. He is now able to take in measured breaths that do not immediately trigger further sneezes. You regard him in this sorry state. You think that a few days ago, when you first met the Lieutenant, it might have pleased you to see such a chink in his armour. But now, you feel no such enjoyment. You are happy that with the winding down of sneezes, so too has your erection wilted. The Lieutenant clears his throat. You stand awkwardly and wait for him to speak.
“I’m so sorry, detective.”
The embarrassment makes his voice thick. Or maybe it’s the congestion. Either way, you are saddened to hear it. You assure him that he has nothing to apologise for. You cannot bring yourself to bless him right now. You ask him how he is feeling. He sighs and removes his glasses. His eyes are overflowing with allergic tears. He swipes them away with the edge of one gloved finger.
“Much better now that we are out of there. That was really…something.”
It sure fucking was, you think. You ask him why he didn’t tell you he was allergic. You never would have dragged him back there, you insist. You sound embarrassingly emotional. Pull yourself together, Harry.
“It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think it would matter. I don’t normally react quite so – obtrusively.”
He blows his nose in the handkerchief. The productive sound of it makes you squirm.
“Sorry, again. I wonder if I’m coming down with your cold after all.”
Fuck. You cannot stand to hear him talk like that. The thought of the Lieutenant sneezing helplessly from a cold in his nose is so erotic you almost moan. This is insane. You can hardly believe it is happening. Luckily, Lieutenant Kitsuragi is too pre-occupied tending to his nose to notice your discomfort. In a few quick moments, he is climbing out of the Kineema and standing beside you on the road. You marvel at his capability to get his shit together in such a small matter of time. It is a talent all on its own.
You suddenly wonder again at the intensity of the Lieutenant’s allergic reaction. You have both wandered round the dusty interior of the doomed commercial district several times before, and you didn’t hear so much as a sniffle from your partner. Although your weightlifting efforts uprooted a great deal of dust in the gym, it didn’t stand to reason that Kim hadn’t been exposed to just as much cumulatively over a longer period of time prior. You know you shouldn’t invite further conversation regarding the topic – not when you have only just managed to calm your enthusiastic genitals. You know this.
Why didn’t you react that way yesterday, you ask anyway - we were in there for longer, and you seemed fine.
“It’s an interesting point, honestly. I’m not too sure I understand it myself.”
He seems just as curious as you – it’s endearing on him, that inquisitive expression. His pink nose is unbearably cute. You choose one of his eyes to focus on instead and don’t look away.
“I’m probably still sensitive from earlier today. Sneezing begets more sneezing. The dust was just my limit.”
An excellent deduction from the Lieutenant. Your cock threatens to twitch in your pants. You manage to offer a soft, companionable laugh in return. You joke that it is nice to be offering support for once instead of receiving it. You only consider after you’ve spoken that this might offend Lieutenant KItsuragi. You hold your breath. He smiles at you and offers a friendly, breathy laugh of his own. Your heart flutters in your chest. It is okay. You have avoided a sexual crisis and seemingly improved your relationship with Kim. This is good.
“This reminds me of an experience I had right at the start of my Lieutenancy.”
Oh, god. So now he chooses to open up to you. You had thought you were out of the woods, but no dice. Unlike earlier in the day, the Lieutenant now actively wants to discuss his sneezing with you. You wonder if breaking as spectacularly as he did in front of you has removed any hesitancy to call attention to his nasal sensitivity. You want to cut him off. Quick - spin around and shout at some unknown entity in alarm! Distract him!
You are too late. He is disclosing this story to you whether you like it or not.
“I was assigned to a case with a previous partner, around 4 years ago now. We were tasked with infiltrating and shutting down a local narcotics ring. It wasn’t an especially prodigious one, but certainly difficult enough to penetrate that we spent months gaining the trust of some lower-level ring members. We finally managed to gain entry to one of the main buildings of their organisation. My partner secured an electronic key card for us to return in the evening.”
You nod your head as you listen. Okay. This is a standard police story. Nothing of note. Yet.
“We managed to sneak in undetected – but the building was not as empty as we had previously been led to believe. We were foolish to think it would be as unguarded as our connection had informed us, but anyway. We heard footsteps behind us – and saw the light of a torch skimming across the wall near our heads. We had to find somewhere to hide right away – we stupidly were not wearing bulletproof vests, another terrible mistake. There was a room to our immediate left and the door was unlocked.”
You swallow. You think you can sense what is coming next.
“It turns out this room was a small storage closet – and a very unkempt one at that. There was barely enough room for us to stand beside each other amongst the shelves. It was more of a one-man only space.”
God. You watch as he smiles ruefully at the memory. You are almost sweating with anticipation.
“We had no choice but to stand chest to chest. He was a little taller than I, luckily not too big – otherwise the squeeze would have been painful. Anyway, we could hear the guard patrolling the corridor. It seemed he was taking his time, but it didn’t sound like he was actively opening doors to explore the rooms. We were incredibly lucky. I shudder to think of how badly the entire affair could have ended up. Such lack of foresight on both our parts. He’s getting closer to the closet and we’re holding our breath. But, detective, you have to understand - this was possibly the dustiest room I have ever stood foot in before. It had nothing on that gym.”
You swallow, but your mouth is so dry it does nothing for you. Kim doesn’t seem to notice.
“He’s getting closer, and I realise that I’m going to sneeze. It was the most insistent tickle, my god. My eyes were streaming, and we’d only been in there for a minute at most. I could not speak up and inform my partner – it was too risky, and the guard was too close. I couldn’t move my hands – they were stuck, wedged up against the shelves. My partner, though, he was perceptive. He told me later he could feel the change in my breathing due to our close proximity. His hands were pressed between us – he managed to free one just in time to press it over my nose and mouth.”
Oh. Oh no. Your erection is back. It is swiftly filling with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it. The tare bag returns to its place in front of you.
“I sneezed so many times I genuinely thought I would stop breathing. My head was spinning. It was unbelievable. I was trying my absolute best to keep as quiet as I could, and my partner’s hand was clamped down hard enough that it was almost silent. That was quick thinking on his part.”
He mentions this previous partner with an undisguised air of admiration. You feel, for a moment, quite jealous. You want him to go on.
“Eventually, the guard passes us by. We waited another couple of minutes, just in case. I was dizzy from the lack of oxygen – it was that horrendous. We squirmed our way out of the closet at last. It took another twenty minutes for the sneezing to subside completely, but otherwise we got the pictures and other incriminating evidence we needed, and returned with a SWAT team the following day. All in all, a success. I apologised profusely to my partner – I wanted to buy him new gloves. You understand, I had made…quite a mess. But he told me not to worry. He was very kind.”
He looks at you straight on. Try not to panic.
“As you have been to me. Thank you, detective.”
The Lieutenant smiles warmly at you. You wish you could fully appreciate the gravity of this moment – his gratitude towards you, and his willingness to share such an embarrassing story. But your mind is elsewhere – and your cock is throbbing. You cannot get the image of the Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi having the sneezing fit to end all sneezing fits, pressed up against the body of another man and trapped in a tiny little closet, out of your head. Not at all, you do manage to say. You smile back, though you are sure it looks strained.
“Luckily, unlike with him, I have managed to avoid sneezing on you. Let’s see how long I can keep that up.”
He is joking – you can tell by the playful lilt in his melodic voice. It is definitely a joke. But to you, it is also a tease. To your perverted constitution, it is a flirtatious promise of sorts that he will fail. You are almost floored by an intense wave of arousal. Your cock is at full mast.
You have to get out of here. You have to do something. You mumble to Kim that you have forgotten some tool or other in your room – you’ll be back as quickly as possible, and then you can really continue with the investigation. The Lieutenant nods his head, buying into your story but clearly a little confused at the frantic cadence you are unable to keep out of your voice.
You run. You have never run with an erection before. It is challenging. But you manage it. You race into the hostel, up the stairs, into your room. You slam the door shut behind you, not even bothering to make your way to the bed. You lean back against the wooden surface, unzipping your pants with as much care as you can manage. You take out your cock, the thick phallus resting in the familiar grip of your right palm. You regard it for a moment. You are a big man, and it is proportionate. Both thick and long, and in your current state of extreme arousal, leaking from its reddened tip.
You start to pump it, milking it with your fingers and teasing the head on an upstroke. You may have forgotten most of who you are but your body remembers this instinctually. You have had decades of practice. It does not take you long until you are panting with pleasure, writhing into your own grip on shaky knees.
Your eyes screw shut. You do not want to think. You just want to feel. You fight to keep your mind blank, but it is no use. You first conjure up that familiar, painful, wonderful memory of Her, but you have to stop. You cannot do this now. Your mind continues to wander, and it is of no surprise to you that you settle on a fantasy of the Lieutenant. You replay his story in his head, so painfully erotic. Suddenly, you are right there with him. It is you pressed up against him in that dusty closet, catching his sneezes in your palm. Except you aren’t wearing any gloves, and the fantasy is so vivid that you can practically feel the sensation of the repeated baptisms against your skin. You have slotted a strong thigh between his own. You imagine the weight of his own cock and balls as you start to grind against his hip.
You are so close now. You can virtually taste your orgasm at this point. You continue to stroke yourself, hard and fast. Your legs start to buckle under the mounting pleasure. In your mind, the Lieutenant sneezes over and over. You picture his desperate, tortured expression, his shuddering body, his gasps and moans. The Kim in your fantasy groans in response to your thrusting. He cannot get enough of you. “Harry, please-!” He cries out for you.
The thought of him begging for you is the final straw. All at once you are coming. You whimper with each throb and pulse, ejaculating freely onto the carpet in front of you. The intensity of it surprises you – you sense that you are normally lucky to achieve the weakest drizzle of an orgasm under such circumstances. Hungover, stressed and unwell. But it feels fantastic. It feels like a revelation.
At last, the pleasure subsides. You slide down the door and onto your ass, gasping like an asthmatic as you struggle to ground yourself. You sit for a couple of moments longer, the wilting dick in your hand drooling cum down your knuckles.
Okay, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Du Bois. Pull yourself together. You have just masturbated to the thought of sneezing fetish closet sex with a man you met only several days earlier. This is far from the worst thing you have done, but it is certainly somewhat of a novelty. Do you even find Lieutenant Kitsuragi attractive? You suppose you do. It doesn’t feel anything like being attracted to a woman. Different, but not…bad. Look at you, taking this in your stride. Maybe there is hope for you yet, grandpa.
You walk on slightly shaky legs to the bathroom and clean up briskly. You return with a wad of damp toilet paper to clean up the mess you have made on the carpet. You shudder to think of the room’s upholstery under a blue light.
The orgasm has cleared your mind. You feel refreshed. This post-orgasmic serenity is something you have not experienced in a very long time. Normally, you feel nothing but shame and a deep sense of profound loneliness. Perhaps you should have tried jerking yourself to the thought of men sneezing years ago. Nice, Harry. It’s good to see you joking with yourself.
You make your way back outside to Kim. He smiles at you as you approach. He does not ask you about the tool you are obviously not carrying back with you. If he doesn’t address it, neither will you.
“Okay. Ready to get back to the case, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”
You are. You are about to tell him as much. But then…you feel it. The tickle. It has lingered in the background, waiting to strike - but it is back.
You have only just regained your composure. You cannot allow the tickle to crest. You hold your breath. You squeeze your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms. You are trying so hard. But it is not meant to be. No matter what you do, it is too strong. Your nostrils flare to capacity in a matter of seconds. You are going to sneeze.
You spin around as you inhale that definitive gasp of air to fuel the sneeze. It is a deep gasp – the sneeze it precedes will be another monstrous explosion. You let it happen. In all honesty, it feels great – the sensation as it overwhelms you combined with your post-orgasm buzz is a veritable headrush.
“HHAAEEESHHHHHUuuu!!!”
Luckily, it is just the one. You shiver. Such a delicious release. You cannot allow yourself to bask in it, though. You turn around, apologising as you do so. You lay your eyes on the Lieutenant. A mixture of both dismay and arousal pulse through you as the…’suggestibility’ of your sneeze appears to trigger Lieutenant Kitsuragi all over again. You watch helplessly as he trembles, sneezing thrice into his raised fist. He seems to have regained the ability to strangle them into submission once more.
“Hh’dDDT-!! H’Gxt!! Igk’t!!”
Your spent cock twitches in your pants with each little sneeze. If you were a younger man, maybe just 10 years or so, you are certain your erection would be back in full swing almost immediately. You thank god that you are an aging, washed-up drunk. This is perhaps the first time you have ever done so.
Kim looks at you, rubbing a gloved finger under his dampened nostrils. He takes in the bewildered, guilty expression on your face. The absurdity of the moment renders him temporarily speechless, and then he is laughing. It is a charming laugh – a little more raucous than you had expected from him. He is an enigmatic man full of surprises. You cannot help but laugh a little yourself. You are mortified, but fuck if this isn’t the most ridiculous thing to happen to you yet over these past few days of strange occurrences.
“We’re a miserable sight, officer. I doubt we’ll get through this investigation with our reputations intact.”
You scoff at that, remind him that you couldn’t possibly tarnish yours more if you tried.
“Don’t doubt yourself, Lieutenant Du Bois. You may exceed both of our expectations yet.”
Sarcastic bastard. You tell him to fuck off, which makes him smile – that subtle quirking of his lips again. You decide to head to the Frittte Kiosk to pick up some things – tissues, mostly. Maybe some antihistamines for Kim. You mention this to him.
“That might do me some good. I’m beginning to believe I’m allergic to this entire case.”
He is joking, again. It is good-natured, but for the sake of your dignity, you wish he would stop. You scoff at him. Bullshit, Lieutenant.
“I’m not allergic to that, at least. I can handle a great deal of it.”
Ain’t that the truth. You smirk, making your way into Frittte and hoping that your earlier orgasm is enough to tide you over for the rest of the day. More sneezing is inevitable. You are unsure whether this is a blessing or a curse.
#nametakenfic#d/isco e/lysium#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz fet#snz kink#snz fucker#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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Happiness (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)
Final part of my little three fic series - here is the follow up to 'Revelation' and...it's a monster. 17.4K. If you actually manage to stick with it all then I commend you <3
K/im angrily confronts H/arry about his inappropriate conduct. H/arry reluctantly reveals why. Fucking ensues
~~~~~
Content:
M/M, past M/F, hinted past M/M if you squint, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, K/im is a kinky motherfucker, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, manually induced sneezes, rapid sneezes, mentions of dust allergy sneezes, sexual fantasies, masturbation, hand jobs, dry humping, frotting, finger sucking, mentions of anal sex, mentions of blow jobs, some mild mess, spray, sneezing on someone, licking spray off fingers (sorry lmao), edging, (brief) orgasm denial, elements of domination/submission, some voyeurism/exhibitionism, verbal teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, embarrassment/humiliation, graphic descriptions of semen, crying a little during/after sex (guess who), K/im and H/arry like each other a lot more than either of them realised
CW: (unintentionally perceived) public masturbation, drug and alcohol mentions, potential heart attack mentions, potential priapism mentions, bullet wound mentions, self-hatred, H/arry is still a mess, internalised homophobia, H/arry experiences a lot of shame re: the fetish and describes himself with degrading language, K/im is perhaps a little too forward initially, mentions of dead bodies (in a murder investigation / gallows humour way), mentions of potential STDs (K/im is just being cautious)
Notes:
Takes place in the canon game timeline so again, please don't read if you don't want spoilers!
For the sake of the fic, the bed in the coastal shack is a proper single large enough for both of them to lie on and the room has a working sink. I had to let these men clean themselves up
K/im should not be doing this with a concussion but. It's my fic, so
EXTREMELY NSFW - Minors DNI!
It has been at least five days since you first touched yourself to the thought of Lieutenant Kitsuragi sneezing. You have touched yourself in a similar fashion every night since – up until a bullet to the thigh and your subsequent fevered unconsciousness prevented you from doing so. You did not mean to make a habit of it, but the orgasmic release the thoughts ultimately lead to is almost as addictive as any drink or drug. The fact that the Lieutenant has sneezed multiple times each day in your presence has made resisting your nighttime jerk-fests damn near impossible.
The fantasies have evolved into an increasingly varied (and sordid) collection of scenarios. Your favourite is the one starring Kim as your butler, burying his face into a feather duster to alleviate his allergic misery by inducing an endless series of sneezes. Naturally, you play the role of the voyeuristic employer, watching the scene unfold from your grand office chair and stroking your cock until you cum all over the hardwood surface of the desk that Kim has just finished cleaning. It is incredibly self-indulgent and fantastical, which naturally makes you cum with the force of a firehose. Every morning it is a little more difficult to look the Lieutenant in the eye. He is completely innocent to your sins, and you are a filthy pervert.
You still have your cold. Now that you have returned to the fishing village with the fierce seaside air whipping at your face, your nose runs without cease. You have been using an endless supply of Frittt brand pocket tissues, having abused Kim’s loaned handkerchief so much so that not an inch of fabric has been left unsoiled. Your nostrils are tingling, threatening to flare with every laboured snuffle.
It really isn’t a terrible cold – but it appears to be a persistent one. You’ve certainly sneezed far more from previous illnesses. One cold in your thirties left you bedbound and sneezing almost like clockwork – you had noticeable abs, then. You remember this, and you remember thinking to yourself that the torso-crunching sneezes that barrelled out of you were just as effective as any targeted exercise.
The persistence is one thing. The suggestible nature of your cold sneezes on the Lieutenant is another. You had both been good-natured about this admittedly comical routine, in which you try not to sneeze, fail, and sneeze anyway – followed immediately by Kim in a near-identical fashion. Today has been a difficult day, however – you are drawing closer to the end of your investigation, and you are both exhausted. Objectively absurd though it may be, neither of you can any longer find much amusement in these twin responses. Neither of you bless each other. The most excruciating (meaning: cock-teasing) thing of all is that Kim has abandoned any attempt at holding back. He is more and more frequently sneezing openly, or in the general direction of his fist – a lazy covering at best, doing little more than dousing his gloves in a delicate burst of spray.
Actually, there is something that arouses you more. As Kim continues to sneeze, his immaculate composure begins to falter. You are not referring to the ways the sneezing overpowers him. It is more so the fact that following each sneeze, the Lieutenant has started to moan. Quiet, shaky sighs at first – now full-blown groans of exhaustion - and what you hope is an element of indulgence at the post-sneeze sensation of relief. They sound practically orgasmic to your one-track mind.
Try as you might, every time the Lieutenant sneezes and sighs, you grow hard. It is perhaps more accurate to state that you have spent more time hard than soft. You wonder if this is enough for you to start worrying about a potential case of priapism. It is rather impressive – at your age and with the recent blood loss you experienced. Perhaps you ought to embrace this as a display of virile masculinity.
Either way, you have very little way of masking this unfortunate physical response. You shuffle awkwardly – you have also tried tucking your cock upwards and into the waistband of your trousers. You are almost one hundred percent positive that Kim has seen you pawing at your responsive genitals more than once but seems to be intent on ignoring it. You understand. You’re not sure how you would address the situation were you in his position. You ought to be more embarrassed but the triple combination of illness, drug withdrawal and injury saps you of fucks left to give.
You have no time to stew in your own thoughts. You are here to ask Lilienne if you can borrow her boat to get to the Islet. You manage to do so and almost leave the interaction unscathed. Almost.
“HAAAAEEEISHHHH!! EISHHHHHhHhuu!!”
The tickle once again renders you helpless and you sneeze twice – loud enough to send a nearby seagull sky bound. You turn away from Lilienne just in time to spare her an unfortunate baptism. The post-sneeze ecstasy leaves the skin of your forearms breaking out in goosebumps, hidden by the sleeves of your Disco blazer. It takes all of your remaining composure to fight off a full-body shiver. You straighten up sheepishly and wipe the result of your sneeze out of your moustache with a crumpled tissue. A blush is creeping over your face. Making a disgusting spectacle of yourself in front of a woman you have attempted at least four times over the past couple of days to ask out on a date (to no avail) does nothing for your morale.
“Bless you, officer!”
You mutter a small thank you from behind the tissue. If your dick hadn’t already been hardening in anticipation of Kim’s reciprocal reaction, that enthusiastic blessing would have done the job. Speaking of the Lieutenant – Lilienne has barely finished addressing you when he spins around – gracefully, controlled and completely balanced, unlike your own frantic whiplash motion – and sneezes thrice uncovered into the cold sea air.
“Hhp’Tsschhh! hHD’Tschh!! Hh! HahHD’Tzshiew!! Ahh, mon dieu…”
They sound like they feel incredible. Before you can do anything to avoid it, you are mentally constructing a detailed visual of the sneezes that the Lieutenant’s expert timing and manners had prevented you from witnessing. What do you expect after committing every sneeze you have glimpsed to memory to then masturbate to with vigorous abandon? Your prick is like iron between your legs. Lilienne turns to Kim with a look of surprise.
“And bless you too, officer! I don’t like the sound of that.”
Whatever Kim is saying to her in response, you miss. Your focus is lasered in on the tip of his nose, moving slightly side to side as he tends to his nostrils with a neat blue handkerchief. You want to be holding that handkerchief for him. Better yet, you wish it was your own hand wiping his nostrils clean. Thought after lewd thought overpowers you. You are painfully hard.
You should really rearrange things down there before Lilienne notices your erection to end all erections. You cup yourself as subtly as you can manage – you’re not sure what you’ll be able to achieve stood mere feet away from the two of them. The waistband trick requires two hands – maybe if you were to turn around?
Before you get a chance to try, Lieutenant Kitsuragi has fixed his eyes on you. You freeze in your tracks, as if paralysed by his gaze. A distinct feeling of combined shame and guilt overcomes you, not unlike the way a child feels when caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Except you are not a child – you are a 44-year-old man, with his hand on his cock. His eyes flash down to your crotch almost imperceptibly before returning to your face, darting about as if in attempt to locate any visual cue that may implicate whether you have indeed gone batshit insane. It is likely a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity as you watch the subtle shifting of his facial features through a spectrum of confusion, shock, disbelief, shock again, and finally – rage.
This anger is unlike anything you have seen pass over the Lieutenant’s face in your week together. It sends a spear of utter self-hatred straight through you. You really have reached an all-time low, Harry-boy.
Lilienne appears not to have noticed the intense stare-off between the two of you – likely because it has lasted approximately 1.5 seconds and is broken by Kim thanking Lilienne for her cooperation and asking that she excuse the pair of you for a moment. His gloved hand reaches out and grips your bicep, hard enough to hurt. Anxiety overwhelms you – he is mad mad.
He marches you the short distant to the shack you have been staying in, shoves you through the door and follows behind you. He does not slam the door, although you can make out enough tension in his slender frame to see that he would very much like to do so. The screech of the rusty hinges is more than enough to amplify your anxiety. He turns to face you, and you shrink in on yourself, feeling naked and exposed within the shooting range of his ire. Your legs are weak – particularly the one in which a bullet had been embedded. You sit on the edge of the small bed and watch him watching you. He looks for a moment like he may be too angry to speak. At last, he opens his mouth.
“What the fuck is the matter with you??”
The Lieutenant’s thick accent and heightened emotions intensify the remark. You are sweating. Shame practically radiates off of you. You’ve truly done it now. You say nothing in response to him, hanging your head in misery. He continues.
“I have been nothing but supportive of your unconventional methods of policing. For all the outrageous things you have said and done, you have genuinely done some excellent work. I have given you the benefit of the doubt for your drug problems, the amnesia, your emotional outbursts - but public masturbation? In front of a female citizen? You really are a piece of work.”
Your face burns. Every word aches, cutting into you like a blade and whittling you down into a hollow receptacle of disgrace.
“I wasn’t – I wasn’t masturbating!” These words tumble out of your mouth before you have a moment to reconsider. The Lieutenant glares at you, clearly not buying it, but he makes no move to cut you off. Your mouth is dry and your hands are shaking. You open your mouth again.
“I was trying to…relieve some pressure. I wanted to hide it. I didn’t mean for you - or Lilienne - to see...”
Your voice sounds reedy, pathetic – incriminating. Maybe if you could stop sweating like a pig, you could actually convince Kim that you are not a sex pest. Shockingly, something in your expression as you look up at him with pleading, frightened eyes convinces him to believe you. He blinks owlishly, then reaches up to massage the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He sighs, a deeply exhausted sound – it seems to physically deflate him, as if the tumultuous anger trickles out of him with the exhale. You watch, clutching your hands together nervously, as he removes his glasses all together and drags a hand down over his face. It rests on his mouth for a few moments longer, and then he is putting his glasses on and looking at you with a mixture of exasperation and pity. His eyes are the first to dart away from your exchanged glance. He clears his throat. You wait.
“I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this, but…Listen, detective, do you-? Need some time to yourself? I’ve noticed you’ve been tense. I thought it might have been your injury, but I suppose I was wrong. At this point…” He hesitates, clasping his hands behind his back. “At this point, having a moment to relieve yourself might actually be pertinent to the progression of the investigation.”
It is your turn to blink, dumbfounded at what you have just heard. Is Lieutenant Kitsuragi actually suggesting you should jerk off? And that your jerking off is of utilitarian necessity? You should confirm this.
“You want me to whack off so that I can focus on the case?”
He looks pained by your turn of phrase; it is much harder to feign professionalism when his own suggestion is bounced back at him in cruder, less obfuscating language. He nods all the same and clears his throat.
“If you think it will help, I will excuse myself and be back in-” He glances at his sports watch. “Twenty minutes.”
Wow. Twenty minutes is probably a whole nineteen minutes too generous given your current state of rampant and unforgiving arousal. The way the Lieutenant falters indicates, however, that he is doubtful of your capability to achieve orgasm even once. You can’t really blame him. He did admit to thinking you were well into your fifties. You nod your head.
“You’re unwell, and injured – I don’t think it would do you any good to continue working this case when you’re also so – distracted.”
He is actively skirting around the issue and choosing his words carefully. It doesn’t change the fact that he is recommending that you pleasure yourself whilst he awkwardly stands outside and waits for you to finish. This makes you visibly cringe. Your own embarrassment only fuels the Lieutenant’s. He clears his throat again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He takes your silence as an indication of consent.
“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it, officer.”
You watch helplessly as he turns to make an exit. Before the Lieutenant is even able to grasp the door handle, however, you hear a frantic intake of breath. Fuck. There is no mistaking the sound of the Lieutenant fuelling up for a sneeze – but this time it occurs with no prompting on your part. He is clearly very sensitive today.
“hHupt’TSSCH’uu!! Merde…”
You watch it all go down – the way his slender frame shudders, shoulders jumping as he is temporarily unbalanced by the voracity of his own release. It isn’t especially loud, but you can tell that it is powerful. You bite your lip. Do not moan. I repeat – do not. Moan.
You moan. It seems violently loud in the small room. Both of you freeze in response. If you didn’t want the ground to swallow you up before, you do now. Despite the humiliation, the utter mortification of it all, your cock is leaking through the fabric of your trousers. Maybe Kim, still facing away from you, will think you have already started working on yourself, and will simply step outside and pretend he doesn’t share the same planet as you for another twenty minutes. Crisis averted.
Luck is not on your side. The Lieutenant turns around. He is looking at you as though studying a particularly challenging crossword puzzle. Were he a dog, his head would have been tipped inquisitively to one side. You are sweating bullets.
“You know, detective…” He starts, and you do know. It is over. You know he has put two and two together. In a way, it is surprising he hadn’t clocked on sooner, but you imagine this is due to his general acceptance of your sporadic and unpredictable behaviour as a rule of thumb.
“If it didn’t sound so ridiculous, I would think…no.”
He turns to leave again. This should be an auspicious turn of events for you, but for whatever reason, you feel disappointed. Burdened. You realise you want the relief of exposure, like a sinner spilling his guts in confessional. You should keep your mouth shut and wank your miserable cock in peace.
“You’re right.” You groan. You do not look at him as he turns to face you. “I’m sorry.”
Was that worth it, Harry? Was it really worth it to confess? You can only wait for his response in silence. You aren’t breathing. You’re convinced that if you breathe, it will scare him away.
Since you are not looking at the Lieutenant, you do not see the expression of contemplative fondness on his face, nor the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes. He is taking in the sight of you, curled in on yourself like a naughty child. You hold yourself rigid as he starts to speak.
“So you mean to say – that when I sneeze…?”
Just hearing that word enunciated in his soft, enquiring tone is enough to trigger another rush of blood to the face. It is a miracle there is enough left north of your belt to do so. You whimper, which only makes you blush harder, and nod your head in way of response. This is pure torture.
“Hm.” The small sound that leaves the Lieutenant is a cross between a huff of laughter and a hum of consideration. Your eyes swivel up to meet his own. You had expected disgust, reproach – not amusement. He is smiling ever so slightly – the corners of his mouth are turned up as he takes you in, arms crossed over his chest. He no longer radiates waves of irritation and confusion. The man before you exudes confidence and control. Your cock throbs shamefully and deposits another glob of precum into your underwear. You open your mouth to speak, but words fail you.
“You really are an interesting man, detective. I’ve never even heard of this particular fétiche before.” His words must trigger a sudden realisation in him. A look recognition passes over his features, and you know he is connecting the dots – looking back at all your behaviour this past week and re-contextualising it. He snaps a thumb and forefinger together. “This makes perfect sense.”
His scholarly enthusiasm is somehow unsettling to you, as if you are a specimen he is examining. You now regret disclosing this sordid piece of information. What had you been expecting, really? For him to put on a show for you, like one of your sick little fantasies? Stupid. You hang your head.
“Yes, I’m a huuuuge pervert, Kim. Now please leave me alone to my shame.”
Oh god, are you going to cry? You’re actually going to cry, aren’t you?
“I never said that, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” His tone is suddenly overwhelmingly gentle. It only makes your eyes prickle harder with tears, threatening to overflow. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
He means it, too. He sounds incredibly regretful, perhaps even a little pained. You can’t look at him, but his palpable remorse at unintentionally beating you when you are down seems to open the floodgates. You feel the reluctant confession blurting out of you before you’re even entirely sure of what you’re going to say.
“I forgot about it, like everything else. Until I didn’t. Until you…” You wind your hand through the air.
“Sneezed?” Kim fills in helpfully, though you wish he hadn’t. It goes straight to your cock.
“…Well, I suppose in a strange way I ought to be flattered.”
You do look at him now, and see him smiling at you supportively. He looks a little apprehensive – but who wouldn’t in this ridiculous situation. Your heart beats wildly in your chest. A single tear runs down your cheek as you blink. You’re about to say something really, really stupid.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
God, Harry. Stop. Stop now.
“Thinking about my – my sexuality. And what it means. And you told me you’re a member of the ‘homosexual underground’. I – I think I might be too.”
The Lieutenant looks back at you, wide-eyed. You need to abort this. Kill him. Kill yourself. Anything that stops you in your tracks.
“I mean, I might be a partial member. I like women. I…there was…someone. She smelled like apricots and – oh, god-!”
A wave of sadness engulfs you. You start to sob, uncontrollably, like a little boy, and cradle your head in your hands. Wow. You really nailed it, Harry. You sure don’t do anything in half measures. You told him his sneezing gets you hard, that you have an inexplicable man-crush on him, and you even threw in an ex-woman-person reference to spice it up, all before crying! You should write a book on how to be the biggest fuck up known to man.
The bed dips as Kim comes and sits beside you. He rests a tentative hand on your shoulder. It is awkwardly limp – he is uncomfortable with physical displays of affection. Something tells you he has not touched somebody conciliatorily in a long time, likely by choice. But he is trying, and that is more than you could have ever expected you deserve. You cry a little harder.
“Harry,” he sighs. “You’re overwhelmed right now. Don’t force yourself to think.”
Ordinarily, he would have followed this with some comment about focusing on the case over personal matters. That he doesn’t shows you how much empathy he is affording you in this moment of distress.
Your crying eventually begins to taper off into little gulps and hiccups as the Lieutenant rubs tiny, tentative circles into your shoulder. Incredibly, your dick has barely softened.
“I’m –! Sorry-!” You gasp out. It sounds pitiful, almost hysterical. Kim just continues to rub your shoulder until you run out of steam entirely, before handing you an opened pack of tissues to clean up your face. As you do so, he takes the opportunity to speak.
“As far as sexual fetishes go, detective, this one is pretty tame. Harmless. A little unsanitary, maybe, but not without a certain appeal.”
You pause in your ministrations. He notices and seems suddenly ashamed by his own forwardness. He clears his throat and retracts his hand.
“Khm. Anyway – as for the homosexual underground – or bisexual underground, as the case may be for you…It certainly isn’t a crying matter. It can, at times, even be fun.”
Ooh, the Lieutenant’s got jokes. You appreciate this reassurance. The crying has left you wiped out and extra sniffly. You have to blow your nose in four different tissues before the congestion subsides. Kim doesn’t flinch at the gurgling sounds you produce.
“I’m going to leave you alone for a while, like I said.” Kim utters after a couple of moments of silence.
As the Lieutenant stands, a foreboding sensation of fear washes over you. You do not want to be alone right now. Before you can stop yourself, you are reaching out at lightning speed and gripping his wrist with one huge paw, halting his departure. Kim freezes and looks down at you. You stare back up at him. His face shifts through a series of emotions before solidifying into an impassive mask.
“Officer. You need to let go.”
There is not contempt in his tone, but his voice is firm and commanding. You are compelled to release him. You do not stop looking up at him. You have no idea what kind of face you are making, but it is apparently making it very hard for him to withdraw the way he had intended. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are burning.
He is the first to break eye contact with you. He strides towards the door and opens it in one swift motion, hesitating for just a moment to look back over his shoulder at you, and then he is gone. The door closes behind him with a decisive click.
Well. That was horrible. You are dejected and alone. You have driven the Lieutenant away, finally. Rejection stings in your throat and swollen sinuses. And you are still. Fucking. Hard. The brief respite of a mind-numbing orgasm might give you fifteen to thirty seconds of ecstasy before the pain sets back in. At this point, bereft of narcotics and alcohol, you will take it.
You flip yourself onto your back, pushing your head into the flimsy pillow and opening your fly with fumbling hands. You manage not to injure yourself as you pull your throbbing cock out of your underwear. It is a deep shade of red, almost nearing purple in your desperation, and even as you wrap your fingers around it in a familiar grip, it drools clear liquid from the sensitive head. You cannot help yourself. Now that you have started stroking and pulling, rubbing the copious precum all over your length, you cannot stop. The shame and the sadness recede at the pure animalistic pleasure of it all. Your head falls back and you moan. One of your hands reaches up to squeeze a nipple through the cotton of your shirt, and you gasp.
It will not take you long. You feel the heated pressure building inside of you, your cock twitching as you caress it in all the ways you like best. Pure, mindless masturbation. You do not want to think thoughts, but you are about to. They skim the surface of your consciousness – your fantasies, some memories. They blur together in a miasma, barely comprehensible the way you dart back and forth between them, but they are turning you on all the same. You are so, so close. Your mouth tips open in a pre-orgasmic moan.
The door of the shack slams open, and the shock nearly makes you orgasm on the spot. The Lieutenant is cursing and closing the door behind him, making sure to lock it. You push yourself up and fumble your dick back into your underwear, hissing as you attempt to close the zip of your fly. It is impossible, so you hold your hands sheepishly in front of your crotch instead. Kim watches you, an intense expression of – need? Desire? Surely that isn’t the case. You can barely think straight. You swallow, head spinning.
“Kim, what-?”
Your words set the Lieutenant’s in motion. He all but lunges at you, pushing you back on the bed and partially straddling you. Your hands fumble to grip at his waist, steadying yourself as the bedframe creaks violently at the activity. It occurs to you for a split-second that the elderly washerwoman outside may be able to hear the ruckus you have been making from where she sits tending to her clothes – she may be blind, but she is certainly not deaf. You banish the thought with a rapid blink of your eyes.
You look up at Kim in sheer disbelief. He is breathing heavily – not nearly as heavily as yourself, almost panting on the brink of orgasm – but heavily, nonetheless. His hands grip your shoulders firmly, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth whilst his eyes rove over your face. And then he is leaning forward and kissing you.
For a moment, your mind short circuits. Not in a million – no, a billion-trillion – years, did you think the past week had been leading up to this moment. The Lieutenant’s lips are wonderfully soft as he works them against your own. It takes a couple of seconds for you to relax, shocked as you are, but then it is electric and instinctual and you are moaning against him, yanking his pelvis down against your own. You open your mouth and his tongue slips in immediately, and then it is even better. You both groan in tandem, as if neither of you can believe how good it feels. The kiss is like a practiced dance – you both know when to bite, when to suck, when to pull back and when to dive deeper. It is simultaneously saccharine and downright fucking filthy. You cannot believe the pair of you haven’t tried this before.
Kim breaks the kiss, sucking on your tongue before pulling back with a lewd pop – you chase him but he holds you in place by your chin.
“Do you want this?”
His eyes dart nervously back and forth behind the thick lenses of his glasses, slightly foggy where your activities have steamed them up. You lunge forward, intending to show him just how much you want this with another kiss, but he manages to hold you back. He is deceptively strong.
“I need to hear you say that you want this.”
He sounds so, so desperate. You realise right then and there that you are a fool for him.
“I want it.” You breathe out, and before you have even finished he is kissing you again. Your head reels, and you feel yourself beginning to tip back onto the bed. Kim goes with you, kneeling with a leg on each side of your torso. He presses the length of his body against your own, and you feel his hardness pressing against the soft flesh of your gut. Your hands travel up and down his back, frantically, squeezing his ass one moment and gripping his shoulders the next. Your cock pulses and pulses between your legs.
And then you feel it. The tickle. You have ignored it for far too long. All that crying and snorting has left you vulnerable to future attacks. All it takes is for one poorly timed deep breath through your nose as Kim explores your molars with his tongue, and you know you cannot fight it. You yank your head back, eyes beading with tears and face cringing in pre-sneeze agony. The resulting sneeze is going to be monstrous – more so than usual. Your lungs suck in a desperate inhale, chest expanding against Kim’s and raising him a good inch higher above you. He seems to understand all at once, angling his face as far away from your own as he can.
You manage through sheer willpower to tilt your head in the opposite direction and over the side of the bed. It tears out of you in a cloud of spray - an angry, irritated explosion.
“IIIIEEESSSSSHHHHTTTtt!!!”
Your hands squeeze reflexively at Kim’s hips. The intensity of the outburst shakes the both of you and the creaking bedframe. Fortunately, you have not pulled any muscles as you awkwardly crane yourself away. The Lieutenant scrambles for purchase atop you, reaching out to steady himself with one hand on the wall.
Your head has barely flopped back onto the pillow before you are cringing with a second, even deeper breath. Your nostrils flare wide in preparation, and you do the whole thing all over again.
“HHHAEEEEEESSSSSCCHHHHHhhh!!!”
You do not have enough energy to be embarrassed by the roaring, desperate nature of them. It felt so fucking good to let it all out. The tickle must have been brewing for some time and you had simply been too distracted to realise. You groan a little, reaching up with one hand to rub your tingling nostrils on the skin of your wrist. You mutter an apology under your breath before angling upwards, pressing your lips to the Lieutenant’s and resuming the kiss.
When he pulls back mere seconds later, you are terrified that you have disgusted him with your indulgent display. And then you remember.
Kim sits back, resting his ass on your pelvis and nudging up against your cock. You gasp as he shifts, clutching his hips hard enough to leave bruises. He calms your squirming with a hand to your chest, holding you down on the mattress. His expression is deeply irritated as his own tickle begins to crest – one eye squints against it, and his mouth drops open to take in gentle hitching breaths. Your hips give an involuntary thrust, jostling him slightly above you. The head of your cock, clothed only in your sticky underwear, ruts against him.
Your entire world narrows down to watching Lieutenant Kitsuragi’s building sneeze. You realise you are involuntarily holding your breath, eyes roving from the flare of his nostrils to his creasing forehead to the way his tongue presses just so behind his bottom teeth. He has raised his free hand loosely before his face. Your cock twitches as he fans his face once, twice, and the mere suggestion of it seems to be enough to have him gasping one last time, nostrils flared to capacity, before he is jerking above you.
“hHDT’TSZCHhhh! AhhDTt’TZsCHh’uu!!”
The bed shakes beneath you as he rocks forward twice. Your entire body feels like a live wire of sensation as you watch him through unblinking eyes. Your fantasies were erotic, but being able to actually feel the Lieutenant’s body strain and tremble as the ticklish urge overwhelms him is something else; the unguarded, desperate expressions as he lets loose are painfully arousing. You do not make out any visible spray but you can feel, from behind the pathetic semi-covering of his hand, each burst of air across your collar bone and neck. You shiver in ecstasy.
The Lieutenant pauses for a moment and leans back again, preparing for a third sneeze. You take advantage of his shifting to free yourself from under the press of his palm, pushing yourself up on your elbows and leaning closer to him. You want to feel the next sneeze on your face. It really seems like it is going to happen, too; Kim is so overwhelmed by the tickle in his nose that he appears to look straight past you, focusing all of his concentration on the sensation as it builds, and builds. He shivers, a delicious little trembling motion that you feel travel through him and down to your own hips, before gasping one last time – an audible, desperate “Hahh-!”
At the very last moment, he tilts his face away from your own, raising the back of his hand in front of his face with his palm towards you. It is a poor attempt at shielding you from his sneeze – you can still make out every minute detail of his face as his features draw tight. It is the slight downwards tilting of his head that spares you any real contact, but the proximity and poor covering means that you can see the fine aerosol that bursts from his mouth and nose as the uncharacteristically harsh sneeze overwhelms him.
“hHUPT’TZSCHhh’uuu!! Nnn…”
The cloud of spray glitters briefly in the air beside you before dissipating just as suddenly. Your hips buck again and you cannot help the guttural moan that pulls itself out of you. His own little moan of relief drives you insane. You wish he hadn’t turned away, but you say nothing – the last thing you want is to spook him. One wrong move and you might wake up trembling in the throes of a nocturnal emission. It is starting to feel very much like one of those kinds of dreams.
But ohh, that third sneeze had been wet. As well as leaving the Lieutenant visibly shaken, it has left a tantalising sheen of dampness on his bottom lip. As Kim blinks, taking a moment to recover, you reach out to swipe across the surface of the moistened skin, drying his mouth and transferring the wetness to your thumb. You hesitate for a moment. The Lieutenant is watching you silently, one hand still outstretched and pressed against the wall, a little taken aback by this unpredictable action. Maybe you should apologise.
Fuck it. You lick your thumb clean, moaning a little in both arousal and shame at what you have just allowed yourself to do. It was a stupid thing to do. If Kim walks out of this room with immediate effect and refuses to work with you any longer, you have only yourself to blame. This time, for sure, you have taken things too far. You brace yourself, awaiting the Lieutenant’s reaction. You force yourself to lock eyes with him.
You were not expecting to see an even more intense look of desire boring back into you. You watch as Kim removes his gloves before using his own forefinger to finish what you started, wiping away any residual spray.
“You really do like this, don’t you?”
There is a hint of amusement in this question, which is not really a question at all but a damning statement. It does not sound manipulative or sadistic, however; he seems to be genuinely enjoying your lascivious responses.
“Sorry, god, sorry,” You mutter anyway. Once again, his enthusiasm has had an adverse effect on your own sudden brazenness. You do not know how to do this. The dreamlike haze of arousal has up to this point protected you from the sobering reality that you are now engaging in sneezing fetish sex activities. With a man. With Precinct 57’s Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi. Your life has been full of ‘what the fuck’ moments, but this has to be waaay up there, man. This was so much easier in your fantasies where you alone had control.
Kim shakes his head. His smile is heated, but kind.
“Don’t be.” He murmurs. “It’s intriguing. You’re intriguing, Harry.”
He reaches towards your face as he speaks. Your mouth is already hanging slightly open in gormless disarray, so it is with little resistance that he slips the middle and forefinger of his right hand – yes, Harry-boy, the very same one he used to tend to his mess – between your teeth and onto your tongue. You start sucking on them almost immediately, flushing with pleasure at the sensation and the compliment. Kim’s breath hitches and he moans, a deeply satisfied purr of a sound that goes straight to your throbbing cock. Your underwear is now drenched, sticking to the head of your cock in the aftermath of his most recent nasal display. You are painfully hard and entirely desperate, sucking on those fingers like they’re the best thing you’ve ever tasted.
“Ahh, detective…” Kim sighs. His voice is low and thick with arousal of his own. You shift underneath him so that he is no longer straddling you with a leg on either side, moving backwards slightly and manoeuvring one of your thighs – the uninjured one - between his own. He goes eagerly, enthusiastically. You press up and between his legs with purpose.
There is no lack of certainty as he bucks back down onto your leg – Lieutenant Kitsuragi is hard, and he is rubbing that hardness against you whilst you suck on his fingers. You have no idea how you have managed to pull this off, but there is no point in overthinking it – especially when every drop of blood in your body feels as though it has pooled exclusively between your legs. You clamp a hand down around his wrist for leverage and start to increase the intensity of your oral stimulation. Your head bobs slightly as you suck the digits in and out of your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tips of Kim’s fingers. His breath catches, and your eyes dart up to his face. Your cock twitches at the sight of his glittering brown eyes, heavy lidded and pupils blown as he follows the motions of your ministrations.
A swell of pride fills your chest. You realise that all you’ve ever really wanted since meeting the Lieutenant is for him to like you. He has stood by you despite the fact that you’re – well, you. And he actually does seem to like you, as inexplicable as this may be. You intrigue him. He said so himself. You don’t want to disappoint him – you want to make him feel good. Allowing yourself to acknowledge this desire for Kim outside of your own one-sided, pornographic fantasies fills you with a burning determination to do just that. Operation ‘Make Kim Orgasm’. Fuck the case, fuck this stupid murder, fuck police work – this is what you were made for. If that sounds dramatic, then so be it. You’re a dramatic kind of guy.
Kim rolls his hips against you as you press your tongue between his fingers, taking just the tips back into your mouth as you pull back up and suck hard.
“You’re a tease.” He says this in approval. You moan, and the hum this produces seems to please him very much.
A moment later, you regretfully pull back, another sneeze teasing your sensitive sinuses. This frequency and persistence would be irritating under ordinary circumstances, but with the promise of triggering a sneeze (or three) from the Lieutenant, you embrace it. You take a deep breath through flaring nostrils to stoke the subtle itch into an all-encompassing tickle. It is so effective that you sneeze immediately, on that inhalation alone.
“AEESSSSCHHHHHhhh!!! Hh…”
It shakes you so violently that you slump back against the pillow, bereft of all energy to remain partially upright any longer. Your back was starting to ache anyway. Your hands return to the Lieutenant’s hips as you look up at him expectantly.
“À tes souhaits,” he offers, even as a look of distinct irritation begins to cloud his features. You moan, and your cock jumps in your pants.
You only have to wait a matter of seconds before Kim’s breath begins to hitch. An irritatingly strong gust of wind from outside causes the entire shack to creak. You strain your ears in a valiant attempt to drink in every little inhalation over the sound of it.
What the Lieutenant says next could have been taken directly from one of your dirty little fantasies. As you gaze at him, your own breath hitching for notably more dick-related reasons, he raises a loosely-curled fist up to his face – or rather, just beneath it, leaving you plenty of room to watch – and begins to speak.
“Hh-! Ohh, Harry, you’re going to m-make me-! Hhdt-!!”
You almost cum on the spot. By sheer willpower you manage to hold back. Your forehead beads with sweat as Kim inhales definitively, bucking forward with four shuddering sneezes, supporting himself as before with a hand to the wall. You are certain if he had not done so he would have been thoroughly unbalanced.
“hhdt’Tszchhu! hHUpT’Tschu! HDT’Tzsshh! hH-!! Ahh’TSshh’uu! Ahh, mon dieu…”
You do not miss a single detail, intent on committing this painfully erotic performance to memory. The way his fine eyebrows draw together, contorting his brow in desperation. The way his nostrils flare with each contraction to almost double their resting size. The way his jaw flexes as his teeth clench together. It is a sight to behold, and you lose yourself in it.
You have been unable to keep your hips from bucking upwards, rubbing yourself against the surface of the Lieutenant’s thigh. He blinks, looking utterly drained for a brief moment, and it is one of the cutest things you have ever seen. No grown man has any right being that adorable. Once he has recovered, he presses his thigh firmly between your legs, binding your balls up and against your cock. You gasp, and he smiles, rutting against you.
“Excuse me.” He sniffles as you writhe. “That felt wonderful, I must admit.”
Fuck. You really must be dreaming. He has taken to this like a duck to water. How can he possibly know exactly what to say, and when? It is just as good as you imagined it could be – no, it is better. He is playing you like a god damn fiddle.
The Lieutenant shifts atop you, extracting his slender thigh from between the squeezing grip of your own as you dry hump him like your life depends on it. Your resistance forces him to pinch the meatiest section of your uninjured thigh – you jerk in shocked pain and release his leg as intended. He rubs the tender skin through your trousers, then squeezes into the space between you and the wall, lying on his side next to your supine form and swinging his right leg over your thighs. Your arm instinctively reaches under him to encircle his back.
“Sorry.” He apologises, smiling at the small frown on your face. “I’ll make it up to you.”
And just like that, he is reaching past your open zipper and into waistband of your underwear to grip your cock. You whine his name, embarrassingly loud and high-pitched. Your captured shaft throbs and leaks onto his fingers. His hand reaches up to collect the moisture, pulling back your foreskin ever so gently – and then he is pumping you in a steady rhythm. It is intentionally slow; you are close, and he knows this.
“Tu as une bite énorme…” You hear him mutter. Your chest swells with masculine pride. That’s right, baby. You are huge.
But holy fucking fuck, this feels – it feels – it’s so good. You wonder if he does this often – whether he touches himself just like this, or if this particular technique is reserved for other members of the homosexual underground. You groan, your head pressing back into the pillow and allowing him to work you. The skilful motions of his hand slowly build the pleasure until it sends small waves of ecstasy through your extremities, like miniature orgasms in their own right. When you do cum, it is going to be mind blowing. Your hand claws at the fabric of his bomber jacket, the other clutching the bedsheets.
“Kim…” His name rumbles out of you, a warning of the explosion to come.
Suddenly, his fingers encircle the base of your cock in a cruel, tight O. Your orgasm is halted in its tracks. Your cock throbs valiantly against its bondage, trembling as though in hope that the mimicry of orgasmic convulsions will trigger the real event – but no dice. A strangled groan tears its way out of you.
“Nooo…! Why…! You said you’d make it up to me-!”
You turn your head to face him. The look you flash him with your baleful green eyes would put the cutest puppy dog in the world to shame. They are glossy, wet with tears of betrayal. He looks at you fondly, but you can tell he is enjoying toying with you like this. Kinky bastard. You should have known.
“There’s no rush.” His voice is a seductive drawl. “I don’t want you to finish yet, Harry. I want to ask you some things.”
He is serious. The ring of his fingers does not loosen in the slightest. You sigh. You’re the questions guy, not him. You don’t much like the idea of an active interrogation whilst your swollen dick quivers dejectedly in his grip, but the promise of eventual orgasm softens the blow. You will humour him.
“Do your own sneezes turn you on? Do you remember that from before?”
Okay, wow. Straight to the meat and potatoes of the issue. Your cock twitches to hear the word ‘sneeze’ in his lilted accent again. You look to the ceiling for a moment of silent contemplation.
“I’m – not sure. They feel nice.” Your eyes swivel back to the Lieutenant’s face. “I like the effect they have on you more.”
Kim is softly biting his bottom lip. His eyes look heavy and heated – you imagine he might look the same after several glasses of wine. Except he’s somehow drunk on you – on this insane coupling.
“I can see that.” He shifts slightly, pulling himself partially atop you. He releases your cock from the grip of his right hand for the briefest of moments before replacing it with his left. His right hand begins to roll your balls in their sack, tugging at them expertly. You don’t doubt you could come from this sensation alone if he would only release your cock.
“You poor thing…” he murmurs against your cheek. “I must have been torturing you all this time.”
Arousal shoots through you like a bolt of lightning, electrifying and filthy.
“Kim, please-! Fuck…”
You could go insane. You cannot remember the last time you have been so intensely turned on for so long without the release of orgasm. Your entire body is an exposed nerve ending. Kim just sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to the dimple on your chin.
“Tell me what you like about it. Explain it to me. Try your best.”
He isn’t going to let you cum until you divulge this information to him. You could easily overpower him if you wanted – you are a hulking beast of a man compared to his compact frame. You could flip him over and rut against his ass like a caveman. But you won’t. You will do as he asks. You swallow audibly.
“I like – thinking about the way it feels, for you. About the t-tickle,” You are blushing like a maniac, tripping over your words. You cannot look him in the eye. “…And how good it must feel for you when you finally sneeze.” You pause, screwing your eyes shut in mortification.
“Go on.” Kim encourages you, making his way to your earlobe and nibbling on the sensitive flesh.
“I like the faces – and the noises – you make. When you lose control.” You swallow again. “You’re so put together. It’s a…nice contrast.”
It is simultaneously humiliating and invigorating, hearing in your own voice a comprehensive explanation and breakdown of your sexual deviancy. Kim pulls back from your ear and rests his cheek on your shoulder, fingers still plucking lazily at your sack.
“You know, I’m not all that put together.” He smiles. “I have my moments.”
Lies. He’s the most put together man that was ever put together. Granted, the amnesia hasn’t left you with much of a frame of reference for this, but still.
“I’m not very put together right now, or when I barged in here knowing you would be – touching yourself.”
He actually looks a little bashful when admitting to that. It’s cute. You kiss the tip of his nose.
“Could have fooled me. You quite literally have me by the balls.”
Kim smirks and squeezes your sack with considerable pressure. Your eyes roll back into your head with a throaty groan of appreciation.
You cannot take much more of this – this constant thrumming of arousal. You could have orgasmed any number of times by now, but either through your own or Kim’s suppression, you have not. You want to cum. You need to cum. You want the Lieutenant to cum, too. You want him to know how badly you want it. Say something, or you’ll go mad with desire.
“I want to make you cum. I want to fuck you ‘til you scream my name, and then I want to fill you with my cum while your writhe on my cock.”
Umm…Okay, then. Good god, Harry. You’ve only just had your first homosexual kiss. Reel it in.
Luckily, this pornographic confession seems to have been an entirely appropriate thing to say. The Lieutenant looks at you with a downright predatory expression of hunger. Your cock gives a frightened little twitch.
“We don’t have time for that,” His voice practically rumbles, both in your ear and vibrating against your palm where it rests on his back, sending a heated shiver through you. “But we can definitely do something else.”
He moves to sit back up, but it is poorly timed with an emerging tickle in your nose. You frantically pin him against your chest in a sudden bear hug – he initially squirms in your grip before the rise and fall of your torso against his own clues him in to the fact that you are going to sneeze yet again. He relaxes against you, pressing his face into your neck. The frames of his glasses dig in a little uncomfortably, but the closeness is thrilling and intimate.
You do not have time to enjoy the feeling of the Lieutenant draped over you – the sneeze rushes out of you, shaking the bed, and you, and Kim. You try to aim it so that your spray doesn’t just rain down on you both, but also angle it up enough that you aren’t sneezing all over Kim’s jacket. You imagine he would be less than thrilled if you did. You manage to avoid making a mess but the fabric of his jacket still ripples with the force of your release.
“EEEISSSHHHHHUuu!!”
Luckily, it is just the one - it leaves you trembling in equal parts exhaustion and hedonistic pleasure. The motion of your body bucking against the Lieutenant’s felt especially nice in this position. You loosen your arms and wait for Kim to pull away. You are confused when he doesn’t do so immediately, and then the sound of a wavering inhale freezes you in place. All sensation in your body seems to subside apart from the heated skin of your neck where the Lieutenant’s breath hitches, preparing to sneeze. You feel the tip of his nose pressing against your jugular, his glasses digging into your jaw. Time seems to stand still as Kim’s ribcage expands under your hands, and then he is shuddering against you, smothering his sneezes against the column of your throat.
“HH’Dtsshh! Hh’Mptschh!! NGx’tsshh!!”
You arch your back, gasping, each little sneeze sending a shivering wave of warmth through you. It is one thing to watch Kim sneeze, but to feel him sneeze against you, pressed as close as he is – your brain feels as though it is short-circuiting.
He gently shakes your arms off and sits up, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He casts you a sheepish, almost embarrassed look that lets you know he had not intended to sneeze against you, but one glance at the dumb, almost drunken expression on your face and he looks a lot less sorry.
“Pardon,” he mutters, reaching into the interior pocket of his jacket. You watch as he takes out - a condom. Wait - he carries condoms with him on police investigations? Perhaps he carries them everywhere he goes. You should be more prepared yourself, quite honestly.
He rips the packet open skilfully with his teeth. You think he is going to slide the condom down your own length – it won’t fit, you want to say - but the sight of the Lieutenant opening his fly with one hand in expert timing and whipping out his cock leaves the words dead in your throat.
You stare at Kim’s erection. It’s not as big as your own, but it’s definitely a decent size. It’s pretty, too – a nice thickness, a neat head, curving a little off to one side. It’s fucking beautiful, actually. Your mouth waters at the sight of it resting in his loose grip. He watches you watch him, pumping the length of it a few times before teasing the head, making himself gasp. Your own neglected dick spits a jet of precum onto your lower stomach.
You reach greedily for his cock, but he gently slaps your hand away. When he rolls the condom down his length, panic hits you like a freight train. Is he going to fuck you? In the arse? Oh, god. You want him to fuck you up the arse. You think you might want that more than you want to fuck him up the arse. You gape at him, fingers flexing and eyes roaming his face.
“Listen, Kim, I- I’ve never done this before, and don’t get me wrong I – I want to, but I’m not – I don’t think I can-!” Kim silences you with a finger to the lips.
“Harry, I just said we don’t have time for that.” He laughs a little, and your entire body slumps back onto the bed as every muscle relaxes at once.
“Ohhh, thank god…” You hear yourself mutter, like a total asshole. Kim just laughs.
But then what is the condom for? Your brows furrow in confusion. He picks up on this immediately and sighs, still massaging his cock in a leisurely fashion.
“This is just a precaution, detective. I mean no offense, but I’m not sure I can trust your sexual history in light of the amnesia and unpredictable behaviour.”
It’s a totally fair point, but you still don’t entirely understand the point of it if you’re just giving each other hand jobs. Don’t ask. You have a feeling it’ll all make sense in a moment. You look up at Kim, and whatever expression you’re making seems to melt him, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss on your chin. He seems to really like the dimple there.
“Don’t worry. This is going to feel great, I promise.”
Kim shifts on top of you, hovering above you with a hand planted either side of your head. He pushes your shirt up over the expanse of your stomach then aligns your hips together until – fuckkkk. You toss your head back in pleasure. The Lieutenant begins to thrust against you, reaching between you for a moment to smear your wetness all over his sheathed cock, and you are sliding together with the most delicious friction. You buck up against Kim, arrhythmically at first before finding the perfect complimentary motion to his own thrusts. Nothing could have prepared you for how good it feels to have his cock sliding up against your own. Your toes are curling in an instant, and you are making embarrassing little mewling sounds.
Kim leans closer, hovering above you on deceptively strong arms. Your hands grip his jacket as his breath tickles your ear.
“I think I’m starting to understand, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor,” he murmurs, drinking in the sound of your groans. “The way you shuddered against me when you sneezed – it’s always wonderful to feel the physical result of somebody losing control. A good sneeze is like an orgasm in its own right.”
Ohh, fuck. He’s too good at this. Or maybe you’re just easy? Either way, your balls are starting to draw up and you can feel the pressure building as your cock gives a heavy, pre-orgasmic throb against Kim’s. And still he talks.
“Just now, you said you wanted me to fuck you. I can do that. I can make it so that it’s all you think about. You’ll dream about it every night, and wake up wishing my cock was inside you…”
He purrs into your ear, a continuous stream of dirty promises, and you’re imagining it all, imaging him fucking you, then you fucking him, images flood your mind and your cock is throbbing and everything tenses before –
Release. Pulsing, gyrating release. The pleasure is monumental – all you can do is submit to it, washing over you in waves and pulling a shuddering moan out of you. Your weakened heart flutters as the sheer magnitude of sensation incapacitates you. You had been denied for too long, and now it seems as though the orgasm is actively trying to kill you out of revenge. You do not care. It feels so, so good. The best you’ve had since god knows when. It feels like it could go on for an eternity. In reality, it is over in a matter of seconds, but when it finally releases you, twitching and gasping in the aftermath, you feel almost reborn.
As you wind down, you are aware of Kim murmuring gentle words of encouragement and praise. You feel him kiss your cheek. He is handling you carefully, like you are a delicate flower and not a muscular slab of a man. You are enjoying it immensely. You let yourself be soothed, sinking into the mattress as the afterglow leaves you floaty and relaxed.
It dawns on you, as you come back to earth, that Kim is no longer thrusting against you. Well, he is a little, but only minutely, barely enough for you to make out. He has shifted his hips slightly so that he is no longer pressing directly against your sensitive cock, but against your hip bone. His cock is rock solid against you, and you realise in a sudden wave of shame and disappointment that he hasn’t had an orgasm of his own.
“You didn’t cum,” You manage.
“No.” Kim confirms, resting his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. He seems to like it there. You like that he seems to like it there. “I’ll need a little more time than that.”
You wince. You were so turned on and came so hard you barely had time to reflect on the fact that your orgasm had taken a whopping 40 seconds to crest from the moment Kim’s dick slid up against your own. You’re not even a minute man. Teenage boys last longer than you. You are unable to prevent yourself from letting out a pained, reedy whine as these thoughts consume you.
“S’rry…” You mutter, and to make it all worse, a couple of tears begin to spill down the sides of your face and into the burning shells of your ears. You focus on a patch of discolouration on the ceiling and attempt to astral project your body out of there. It does not work.
Kim pushes himself upwards and positions himself in a seated straddle above you. You offer no resistance. You do not look at him until he forces you to do so with a firm grip on your chin, pulling your face towards him. Even then your stubborn eyes only swivel to look at him once he compels you with an authoritative “Harry.”
He is looking at you fondly. You’re not sure how much more you can take of his relative kindness. It’s probably just the post-orgasm loopiness and raised temperature, but you swear you can make out the faint glow of a halo around his head.
“Don’t apologise. You held out for a very long time – an impressively long time, given how worked up you were.” He gets up off the bed then, taking the few steps over to the small basin and wetting the washrag lying beside it. You turn your head to watch and see that his erection hangs insistently in front of him, though it has wilted a little. The surface of the condom is slippery, covered in your semen and pre-cum.
“This was never about me, anyway. I got…carried away.”
He sounds…pained. You wonder if he is feeling a regret similar to that of an unsuccessful one-night stand, once the orgasm has cleared his mind. Only he hasn’t even had an orgasm. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest, not only for him but faint memories of various drunken affairs. You have a feeling a lot of women have slammed the door of your apartment behind them, their own orgasms neglected as you lay there in selfish completion. Fuck. Say something before you ruin things even more.
“I like when you get carried away. I want you to get carried away.” You push yourself with no small amount of effort to sit up against the wall, legs swung over the side of the bed.
You watch Kim’s profile. He says nothing, but he’s smiling. He slips the condom off of himself and flicks it into the nearby bin. You watch with a sinking heart as he tucks his half-hard cock back into his underwear. It feels like rejection. This is totally harshing the mellow of your earth-shattering orgasm, man. He turns with the washcloth in hand, takes one look at your face and smiles at you with such naked adoration you almost swoon with it.
“What’s that look for?”
You shrug, eyes darting around like a desperately guilty dog.
“Officer.” You look back at him. “We are still in the middle of an ongoing murder investigation.”
He is such a square. How he can be this level-headed and persistent whilst he’s still at half-mast is beyond you. You snort out of your nose like a petulant child. That was a bad idea – your forgot that you have a cold. You scramble around you looking for a tissue, but before you find one Kim is cleaning up your mess with the washcloth. Your ears burn. Having your nose wiped for you like a child should not be this arousing, but it is. Kim folds the washcloth and works downwards, cleaning the semen from your skin and the trail of hair that covers the length of your torso.
“Don’t look so disappointed.” His face is so close to yours. “If you still mean everything you’ve said when we’ve closed this case…” He whispers against your mouth. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
You lunge forward too quickly and awkwardly crash your teeth against his own. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, sinking to his knees in front of you and craning his neck upwards to maintain contact. You lean forward, clutching his shoulders with flexing fingers. He is such a good kisser. He does amazing things with his tongue whilst his hand still works on scrubbing your torso clean, working its way to your crotch, and –
Kim breaks the kiss and looks down your body. He is wearing an expression of utter disbelief, which you would find incredibly amusing if it wasn’t aimed at your person.
“What? What’s wrong??” You ask in horror, clutching his shoulders tighter.
He doesn’t answer you. He reaches one hand between your legs. You cannot help the obtrusively loud moan of pleasure that rakes its way out of you as he squeezes your cock.
“Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” He says despairingly. “You’re still hard.”
You look down. The swollen head of your cock peers back up at you, twitching happily within the constraints of Kim’s fingers. Huh.
“Oh. Uhh. So I am.”
The look of bemusement Kim flashes you is objectively too funny for you to not grin back at him, so you do. He raises an eyebrow.
“Is this normal for you? Do you remember?”
“I’m. I’m gonna say no.”
“No, you don’t remember, or no, this is not normal?”
“Yes.”
The Lieutenant blinks. He sighs heavily, releasing your cock. It throbs angrily at the sudden absence of his expert fingers. If a cock could pout, yours would.
“Harry.” He places his palms on each of your thighs, making sure to keep his touch light on your injured leg. “The entire reason I suggested you take care of things is because I thought it would provide you with some relief and mental clarity.”
The Lieutenant doesn’t seem angry – maybe a little concerned. You get the distinct impression that he is beginning to think you may actually have a medical issue of some kind. Your regard your stubborn erection. It doesn’t hurt – you hadn’t even noticed its persistence because you are still enjoying the buzz of your afterglow. Are you still aroused? You ought to test that. You picture Kim leaning down and sneezing all over your crotch. When your cock gives a heavy throb in response to this thought, drooling more clear liquid down your shaft, you relax. You’re not suffering the early stages of priapism; you’re just insanely horny.
Kim has been watching you think. He also watches your cock bob in the air with poorly feigned disinterest. You think, despite it all, he is secretly happy with this outcome. Perhaps a little flattered that he has managed to work you into this rabid state despite the multiple factors of injury, illness and drug withdrawals working against you. You are hyperaware of the grip of his hands on your thighs. He has very nice hands - angular and masculine, but delicate in their motions in a way your own huge paws are not. You should tell him to get to work with those hands of his.
“It’ll go down soon?” You offer instead.
Spoilsport.
Kim looks up at you like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest, because he doesn’t.
“Humour me, officer. When might that be?”
You shrug noncommittally. He sighs again, eyeing your cock. It twitches a little under the scrutinization.
“Do you need to have another orgasm?” He asks you. It is a sincere, almost clinical question for which he would like a straightforward answer, almost like a physician consulting with a patient. That doesn’t stop your hips from squirming in response.
“I…don’t know if I can.” You admit.
And you mean it. Earlier this week you may have suffered a genuine heart attack. You were shot in the leg just over 48 hours ago. Another orgasm of that magnitude may kill you. You ponder this a moment longer. There are definitely worse ways to go, and you trust Kim to take good care of your corpse should your petite mort just become…mort. The Lieutenant is patiently watching you, still crouched in front of you. You could do worse that Kim Kitsuragi, Harry-boy. Just blow your load like a man and enjoy the ride.
“…Fuck it. Sure.”
You stroke your cock experimentally. It feels as intense as if you’d never come in the first place – the only evidence to the contrary being the floaty, rejuvenated feeling your previous orgasm bestowed upon you. Once you start touching yourself you can’t stop. You groan and tip your head back against the wall. Yeah. This probably won’t take long either.
You realise after a moment of passionate self love that Kim has made no move to either offer a helping hand or leave you to handle yourself alone. He’s watching you work yourself with naked interest, eyes heavy-lidded and bright. When you groan in response to your own teasing fingers rubbing gently over your frenulum, you hear his own moan of appreciation and feel the flexing of his fingers on your legs. It is his own sigh of arousal that seems to break him out of this intense observation. He stands up, and you look up at him, meeting his heated gaze with your own.
“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He says, pushing his glasses up his nose but otherwise unmoving. His own erection tents the front of his cargo pants.
“Don’t go.” You say. “Stay.”
He smiles down at you. It makes your breath hitch.
“You want me to watch?”
“I think you want me to want you to watch.”
“I want to get back to the murder investigation.” He teases.
“Please. Don’t talk about murder right now. I’ll never cum that way.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He smiles at you. He is finding some enjoyment in this – standing over you while you masturbate yourself furiously. You find yourself enjoying it as well – so much so that it takes you a moment to take offense.
“I’m not! – not that fucking weird, damn.” You mutter. He just laughs.
“I want to make you cum.” You offer after several beats of silence. He fidgets in response, a small movement that would have otherwise signalled a routine shifting of weight from one leg to another, were it not for the obscene tent in his trousers.
“You should focus on yourself.” He breathes out, sounding almost as out of breath as you.
“What does it – look like I’m doing?” You get out between moans.
You’re getting close. It feels good to stroke yourself with your own practised hand, but you can’t help but feel like you need more. The Lieutenant is the entire reason you are in this position in the first place, and now he’s not even touching you. His sneezing was the catalyst for a whole new world of never-ending arousal and homosexual revelations.
You should ask him to sneeze for you. The thought is simultaneously thrilling and mortifying. It is one thing for Kim to barge into the room and start kissing you, and sneezing all over you because he can’t help it – yet another thing entirely for you to request his active participation. Perhaps you don’t need to ask. All you need to do is sneeze again, and it will certainly trigger a reaction of his own. You sniffle experimentally, but all you get for your efforts is an uncomfortable burning sensation. It is just your luck that the second you actively want to sneeze, you cannot. Fuck.
Why do you find yourself hesitating like this? You couldn’t have imagined a more positive response from the Lieutenant before. He called you intriguing. He dirty-talked you. He rubbed your dicks together and compared sneezing to orgasm. What’s the worst thing that could happen?
You regard the Lieutenant. Sexually charged energy practically oozes from him as he stands before you. His pupils are blown and his body bows towards you with a subconscious desire for closeness. All physical signs, not least his solid cock, point towards his want for sex with you, and yet – he’s just standing there. Watching. It occurs to you that he is potentially holding himself back now because his uncharacteristically enthusiastic advances have spooked him into a form of cowed paralysis. For a rigid professional like the Lieutenant, niche fetish sex with a fellow police officer is a huge deviation from his usual composed behaviour.
You take this all into consideration, and open your mouth to speak.
“I want you to sneeze for me. Please, Kim. I’m desperate for it.”
Your voice is steady, if not a little strained, but you have said it. It is out in the open. Your face heats in anticipation, heart fluttering in your chest, and your arousal seems to amplify at the thrill of voicing these most erotic desires out loud. Kim makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and you are worried for a moment that he is going to bolt out of the door, but then he is stepping closer, standing between your legs and cradling your cheek in his palm.
“Okay.” He smiles at you, and the relief is overwhelming. He looks excited– it is as if he had been waiting for you to put into words what you really wanted from him. You have a feeling that you had been dead on the money about the source of his reluctance. He had taken too much control of you, far too quickly. He didn’t want to look desperate, or lecherous in his handling of you, even though you went easily, enthusiastically. He had said you could do whatever you wanted to him – granted, he had meant this for a time in the future when you had more blood in your brain than your dick, but. Either way. Perhaps all you had to do was use your fucking words.
The Lieutenant is suddenly glancing round the expanse of the shack as if looking for something. When you ask him what he is doing, he looks at you as if it is obvious.
“I can’t just sneeze on command, but there doesn’t appear to be anything dusty in here for me to use. Isobel is clearly a fastidious cleaner.”
That last part expresses a deep respect for the old woman’s neatness despite her visual impairment. He says it so matter of factly that it takes a moment for the sheer eroticism of what came before to wash over you. Your cock drools down your knuckles at the thought of Kim willingly inducing an allergic reaction in himself, proposing he do so as if it is the most normal thing in the world. You picture him again with a feather duster, teasing his flaring nostrils until he cannot take anymore. He seems pleased with your immediate physical reaction, running his hand through your hair. You thank this morning’s Harry for the decision to shower despite the pain in your leg.
“Don’t you need to sneeze? That’s as effective a method as any.”
You sniffle again, but it is the same result as before – which is to say, nothing at all.
“Fuck…” You tilt your head back against the wall in disappointment. Perhaps you had better let this idea go and just think about tits or something.
You remember then, in a flash of foggy memories, a certain fool proof method for inducing a sneeze. A small, twisted piece of coated wire – the kind you might use to seal an open bag of food. You remember using it, tickling yourself into a relieving, shuddering sneeze when the urge refused to crest without external encouragement. God. Maybe you like your own sneezes more than you previously thought. You feel another stubborn memory, just on the periphery of your consciousness that refuses to reveal itself to you. Nevertheless, you have a hunch – no, a suspicion - that you are not the only person upon whom you have used that little tool. This confuses you. You had been so convinced this was a secret you had never shared with anybody, but now you are not so sure. But who? It wasn’t…her, at least. You decide to bury this troubling thought before you develop a headache or start to cry.
Anyway. This tool. You have a feeling. A feeling that in the lining of your blazer, through a small rip of the fabric…You reach inside, and moments later, you are staring at the small twist of wire pinched between your thumb and forefinger. The Pavlovian elevation of your heartbeat at the sight of it only confirms its intended usage.
“Umm. I think this should work.” You hold the small tool up to the Lieutenant, your expression a confusing amalgamation of sheepishness and excitement.
He takes the tool off you and brings it closer to his face, squinting a little at it through his glasses before a look of recognition spreads across his features. His lips quirk up into one of his small smiles. You swallow audibly.
“I’m assuming this is intended for internal stimulation?” His smile widens as you nod, squeezing your cock for good measure. “Very resourceful, detective.”
He twirls the small piece of wire between his fingers as if testing his grip. You are giddy with anticipation, practically vibrating with it. Kim uses his knee on the outside of your leg to push it inwards – you instinctively move your legs closer together, out of the wide spread you had adopted as you slumped back against the wall. He hums in appreciation at your quick understanding before kneeling in a partial straddle atop you, knees pressing into the mattress. It squeaks in protest anew at your combined weight, but neither of you pay it any mind.
Kim rests his left hand on your shoulder, twirling the wire between thumb and forefinger of his right and watching your reaction. You swallow thickly.
“Please,” You whine. “’M so close…”
“Okay.” He leans forward to kiss you for a moment, and you almost reach up to pull him back into it before you remember that more kissing means less sneezing. “But if you’re still hard after this, I’m driving you to the hospital.”
He isn’t joking. You nod obediently, trying your best to look innocent and failing spectacularly. Kim hesitates for the briefest moment, as if it dawns on him how ridiculous his current position is – how every decision and success he has undertaken in his career and life in general has led up to this bizarre turn of events – before slipping the tool into his slightly flared right nostril.
Almost immediately, he is pulling back with a look of pained irritation, but it is not the kind either of you were looking for. He coughs a little before rubbing at his nose frantically with the heel of his palm, eyes scrunched shut.
“Kim - shit, are you okay?” You ask him, concern overriding the way your cock twitches at the sight of him roughly manhandling his nose.
“Ahh, sorry, sorry,” The Lieutenant apologises, slowing the motion of his hand. He lowers it again and smiles bashfully at you, eyes watering ever so slightly. He looks so cute in the moment you barely suppress the urge to gnaw on his glasses.
“I think I was a little overzealous. I didn’t expect that sensation.” He moves the tool back into his nostril, trying again.
You watch in fascination, eyes roving over his face, taking in every little detail as he tickles his nose for you. His nostrils are your favourite thing to watch, predictably. They are incredibly expressive, and the shape of them lends to a wonderful flare. Each little twist and thrust of the tool triggers another series of uncontrollable twitching. The eroticism of this moment cannot be understated – you feel so good, so unbelievably turned on that your hand has paused on your cock for fear you will come before he has even succeeded in initiating a build-up.
Suddenly, the Lieutenant’s breath catches. You hold your own involuntarily, as if any sudden movement will scare his budding sneeze away. Your eyes wander from his flaring nostrils to his furrowed brows to his mouth as it falls open. His tongue cups itself, pressing slightly against his full lip. You briefly imagine the feeling of that tongue wrapped around your cock as he sucks it down. You resist touching yourself, intent on enjoying every moment of this. The second you do it is game over.
“Oohh, I think-!” Kim manages to gasp out before the sneezes are tearing their way out of him – a desperate little triple that leaves him shivering in your lap.
“hHUPT’Tschh’uu!! Hhdt’Tszschhh’uu! hHADT’TSCHhhtt!!”
He aims them at your chest, but mostly catches your neck and chin with the light spray. Your skin feels electric with sensation. You swallow your groans to avoid drowning out the sound of his releases, cock throbbing heavily with each one. It is hard to imagine that you could be more turned on than in this current moment, especially as Kim sighs heavily, orgasmically when he has finished.
“Ahh, my god. That felt so good.”
It doesn’t matter if he is only saying it for your benefit, or if it really is the case – you’d put money on both – and you allow yourself to groan openly at last. Your free hand reaches up to clutch at the front of his shirt, more to tether yourself to him than anything else.
“Did you like that?” He purrs, knowing full fucking well that you’ve probably never liked anything else quite so much in your life.
“Yesss…” You manage, hesitating for a moment before offering a “B-bless you” that you stumble over as if it is the naughtiest, dirtiest phrase known to man.
“Thank you.”
He sighs emphatically, delighted to see you squirm and blush. The Lieutenant rests the hand still clutching the inducing tool on top of your own where you are crumpling his meticulously ironed shirt into a wrinkled mess. He leans forward, holding his face just in front of your own. He sniffles, then smiles smugly at the flicker of your eyes to his flaring nostrils.
“Harry.”
You murmur an affirmative, unable to do much more as his deep brown eyes seem to stare into your soul. It makes you feel a little drunk – the fun, relaxing part before the anger and shame sends you into a spiral of self-destruction.
“Why aren’t you touching yourself?”
The Lieutenant could read a phone directory aloud and that voice would probably still have the same effect on you. Soft, but deep and commanding. It sends shivers down your spine. Before you can answer him, he is murmuring against your lips again.
“Touch yourself for me. Be a good boy.”
You can be his good boy. His best boy. You sigh against him, fingers moving to firmly encircle your cock before his words even fully sink in.
“Yes,” you breathe out, beginning to stroke yourself obediently. Your other hand releases the front of his shirt and moves to grip his waist instead.
“Good.” He smiles, leaning back once more, hand gripping your shoulder firmly whilst the other slips the tool back into his waiting nostril. “Here’s your reward.”
You watch in what can only be described as adoration as the Lieutenant starts to tickle his nose again. You are trying to hold out, keeping the squeezing rhythm on your cock as slow as you can manage, but the longer you touch yourself the harder it is to do so. A few moments later, Kim’s nostrils give a definitive twitch. You hear him suck in a shuddering breath. This time was much faster – he is figuring out the best spots to tease in an impressive display of aptitude.
The Lieutenant’s face freezes in pre-sneeze agony for a beat, and then he is tilting forward with another round of sneezes, hand squeezing your shoulder tight.
“hHPT’Tsschh!! HdDDZT’Tzshieww!! ‘TSCHhh’uu!!....HAHd’tsschht!!
These, too, were aimed in the general vicinity of your upper torso, though the last one – a straggler – seems to catch him off guard. You feel the delicate spray that bursts out with it settling over your left cheek, some on your lips. You shamelessly lick them clean. It wasn’t a particularly messy affair, hardly even wet enough for you to feel it, but a thrill rushes through you all the same. Kim doesn’t notice, pausing for a moment to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles and scrunching his eyes shut as he does so. It is both endearing and erotic that he makes no effort to hide just how much these sneezes tickle and tease.
“Bless you-!” You all but growl at him.
“Thank you, detective.”
He is enjoying this immensely, which only makes it better. You doubt, despite the lax and forgiving nature with which he has approached some of your more…unpredictable behaviours, that he is the kind of man who does anything in bed that he does not want to. He wears his arousal well – he doesn’t blush so much as he seems to glow, radiant and healthy.
“This is fun.” He admits, out of the blue, returning the tool to his nose. “I wonder why I’ve never thought to try this before.”
Because you’re not a huge fucking pervert, you do not say. You imagine he finds a certain appeal in having some power over when he gets to sneeze. He can enjoy the release when the reflex is triggered by his own hand and following his own decision to do so. It is an entirely different ball game to when his allergies or suggestibility render him helpless in environments he cannot control. Now he has an opportunity to indulge in the sensation – and it certainly does no harm that he is reducing a large man like yourself to a quivering mess whilst doing so.
Before you realise it, your muscles begin to tighten in pre-orgasmic tension. Your hand is stroking your cock mercilessly, doing everything it can to drive you closer and closer to climax. It is working on autopilot, for which you are grateful – you don’t want to miss a moment of this thinking about anything that isn’t the Lieutenant.
“Kim…” You whine. You mean to say more – that you’re close, you’re going to cum, something to that effect. You don’t manage to, but the desperation with which you utter his name is enough for the Lieutenant to understand.
“Are you going to cum for me?” He murmurs, rubbing his thumb in small circles against your clavicle.
You sure fucking are. Your hand is a blur over your crotch, your frantic efforts almost sending vibrations throughout the protesting bed frame. You try not to think too much about the expressions you’re making. Kim has already been witness to your O face and certainly doesn’t seem to have been deterred by whatever he saw. He’s watching you with a hungry look even now, working his own face into a different but not dissimilar mask of desperation to your own.
Suddenly, his hand is squeezing your shoulder especially hard, thumb digging into bone and muscle.
“I think – if I -!”
He is trying in desperation to communicate something between hitching breaths, but it is futile. He inhales hugely, audibly gasping at the intensity of the tickle he has inflicted upon himself. He makes no effort to remove the tool this time.
“AhHH’TSchhTt!!-‘TSSChhh!-‘TSSh’uu!! – god, I-! AESSCH’uu! Hhp’Tzshieww!*
A wave of heat consumes you, the eroticism of the moment almost unbearable. You realise that Kim has found a sweet spot and deduced that simply holding the tool in place will result in an endless barrage of sneezes. Your cock throbs, drooling down your knuckles as you caress and squeeze yourself stupid. The hand resting on Kim’s waist grips him more firmly, a kind of anchorage, though for whose benefit you are not entirely sure.
“IhHd’TSsch’uu!! aAHDd’TszchhT!!-TTSChh’uu-ttschht!! Fuck, it’s so -! HahDD’TZSCHHhht!!”
The bed shakes under your combined efforts. You moan loudly, wantonly, almost out of your mind with desire. You wish you could shut yourself up – not out of any kind of embarrassment or shame. You’re beyond that now. But your own noisy exclamations are beginning to drown out the sound of Kim’s relentless sneezing. They have been increasing steadily in pitch as his body fights to mollify the tickle. There is no relief to be found, however – as long as he presses that little piece of wire against his sensitive spot, he will sneeze ceaselessly.
“Hupt’CHShh’iew! Hhdt’CHhhssh!! Hh-!! HhGG’TSzsch’uu!! TZSSCHh’iew!! Hhd’TZSCHshhtt!!”
They have been spraying your chest, neck and face indiscriminately, as it is all the Lieutenant can do to keep himself upright and find enough air to breathe between each convulsion. That most recent sneeze is also the most productive yet. You blink reflexively against the spray misting over your cheeks and nose, tangibly more wet than the preceding baptisms you have received. Kim’s pink, flaring nostrils are beginning to glitter with moisture. You almost feel envious that it has taken him such an intense series of sneezes to develop a bona fide runny nose. You can only imagine the mess you would have made by this point.
Unable to clean himself up throughout the continuous onslaught, you notice the tiniest string of saliva drips from the Lieutenant’s bottom lip. You want to lick it off, but all you’re capable of in the moment is fucking your own fist and moaning low and loud like a cat in heat. Your orgasm is mere moments away – it is building so intensely that your earlier fears of simply cumming yourself to death reemerge. You couldn’t stop the frantic motions of masturbation if you tried, however. You are a wanking machine, operating purely on animalistic impulses.
The Lieutenant, it appears, has reached his limitations. He looks dizzy and breathless, glasses askew and eyes streaming in irritation. He removes the tool from his nostril and drops it between you, realising much the same as you have – the cruel little press of that wire would have made him sneeze and sneeze until he passed out.
He clutches your shoulders with both hands now. You stare, utterly and totally enraptured, as his breath hitches towards yet another release. Removing the direct source of irritation seems to have stoked some kind of residual tickle – and by the absolutely miserable twist of his features, it is perhaps the most intense of them all. Your cock shudders with the first pulse of your orgasm.
My god, you might die. You might actually die, you think, as the steadily cresting pleasure curls your toes and begins to pulse through you in luxurious waves. It is so overwhelming that you are unable to make any noise at all. You manage to watch through unblinking eyes as Kim tips forward with a punishing double.
“hHAhdt’TSZCHhh’uuu!! HhHDT’TSZSChhst!!”
They spray across your chin and neck, deliciously wrenching and wet. The Lieutenant gasps, head shaking almost imperceptibly as the tickle grinds vindictively against his sinuses – one final ‘fuck you’ - before he is lurching forward with a definitive, body-crunching explosion.
“hhHAHPT’TTZSSCHHhtt’iewww!!!”
It is the loudest and wettest sneeze you have ever heard from him. More importantly is the fact that he has managed to aim it down his body, chin squeezing against his collar bone. It drenches your cock in a teasing cloud of spray, the cooling sensation of it settling onto the delicate skin and elevating your orgasm beyond anything you thought imaginable. You are reeling with it, trembling pitifully.
Completely without means to control your own shuddering, you are helpless to fight it as your head drops back against the wall, thunking hard enough that there is pain even through the tremendous pleasure. You feel Kim slip a hand between your skull and the wall, cradling it protectively as you continue to shiver. The jarring movement seems to have triggered you to find your voice again and you moan stupidly, eyelashes aflutter.
Unlike your first orgasm, when the pleasure finally releases you this time, you slump as though dead. You have never come so close to losing consciousness from orgasm; you didn’t know it was something you were physically capable of (falling asleep immediately after the fact or passing out from drugs not-withstanding). Your breathing finally regains some semblance of consistency. Your eyes fell closed at some point and you make no move to open them. As you twitch with the occasional aftershock, wilting dick in hand, you feel Kim disembarking and hear him moving round. Your lascivious cock gives a few appreciative twitches at the sound of him blowing his nose.
“Harry. Harrier.” Kim calls your name softly from above, and you realise that you have started to doze.
“Mmf.” You grunt. You wish he would leave you to your peaceful oblivion.
A sudden cool sensation against your face makes you jolt slightly, eyes fluttering open. You look up at Kim, who is watching you with undisguised fondness and amusement, pressing a damp cloth to your cheek.
“Hi.” You manage.
“Hello.” Kim replies, before moving the cloth over your face and neck with a mechanical efficiency.
You grunt a little in indignation at being jostled here and there. You imagine this is what a milk drunk kitten being groomed by a fastidious and overbearing mother cat would feel like. Kim ignores your protests, wiping your dick clean with several quick strokes.
“Sorry.” He slows down just a little when you hiss and jerk as he works over the head of your cock, rubbing the over sensitised skin with tender care.
Your sticky hand is the last to be cleaned. You offer a lazy smirk as he wrinkles his nose at the sheer amount of mess you have made. The cloth, which you realise had been one of his many clean handkerchiefs, is tossed into the bin without a second thought. When you continue to sit there, arms hanging loosely at your sides, he clears his throat and looks pointedly at your crotch. Oh, right. You tuck your cock away, finally and blessedly flaccid.
“Do you normally make such a production of orgasm?” Kim asks in faux irritation, pulling his gloves back on.
You know he liked what he saw – he just likes to tease you. You ignore him, unable to formulate a witty or biting remark in response. Your brain is still jelly. Evidently your legs are, too – the second you try to stand, they are buckling under you. Kim steadies you, supporting your weight as best he can, until you are able to stand on your own. You swoon a little from the sudden rush of blood.
“You okay?” He asks, patting your back as you wash your hands in the basin.
“Fuck, man. I’m better than okay. I’m the living embodiment of Disco, baby.”
You giggle a little, loopy from the rush of endorphins. Your head also feels about a thousand times clearer, your morale at an all-time high – which gives you all the confidence you need to follow through on what you have been dying to do for days.
You turn to Kim, some variation of ‘The Expression’ plastered onto your face. With one fell swoop, you are scooping him up and depositing him roughly onto the bed, pulling a startled and rather undignified squawk out of him. Before he has time to stand up, you lower your mass over him, pressing a thigh between his legs and up against his cock and balls. The moan that escapes him is an unexpected and embarrassing to him as it is intoxicating and motivating to you. His hands reach up to grip your shoulders.
“You’re hard.” You mutter, before leaning forward and pressing a series of kisses to the exposed column of the Lieutenant’s neck.
“Astute observation, detective,” he breathes out, using his grip to pull you closer and arching himself up against you.
“I still want to make you cum. Will you let me now?” You nose along his jawline, careful to avoid pressing too hard and ruining the moment with a poorly timed sneeze. He shudders and bucks up against your leg, squeezing his thighs around it.
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”
That’s as clear an affirmation as you’ve ever heard. You reach between his legs, balancing over him on one arm. As nice as it felt for the position to be reversed, you can’t deny that your present arrangement is reaffirming to your masculinity. You spit into your hand, then manoeuvre his rock-solid cock out of his pants and hold it for a moment in your palm, getting a feel for the weight and thickness of it. You look down the lengths of your bodies in appreciation at the pretty head, beaded with moisture. You swipe over it with your thumb, spreading the wetness around and pulling a shaky sigh out Kim in response.
Before you can begin to stroke the Lieutenant, he is gripping your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him.
“One thing before you start.” His brown eyes burn into your own. “If you ever pick me up like that again, I’m breaking both your arms.”
He is only half joking. He appreciates your wanton displays of virile masculinity, but he does not appreciate being caught off guard and thrown around like a toy. You nod within his grip, and he releases you, pulling your face to the crook of his neck and moaning in appreciation as your hand starts to pump him. He temporarily lets go of your shoulder to reach down and pull his t-shirt up to his nipples before resuming his hold, gripping you almost possessively.
“Is that an appropriate way to speak to your superior officer, Lieutenant?” You tease. There are times that you are especially grateful for the heavy timbre of your voice, and now is one of them.
You work your way over Kim’s neck with tiny kisses. His jugular flutters under your lips with each frantic beat of his heart.
“I believe it’s warranted when you’ve made your superior officer orgasm twice by sneezing on his person.” He murmurs, intoxicatingly breathless, into your ear, making you shudder involuntarily. You feel the smile on his lips as he nibbles gently on your ear lobe. Oh, god. He’s a monster. He’s going to eat you alive, and you’ll happily let him.
“God. You can’t be doing that. I’m serious, Kim, you’ll make me hard again.”
You don’t want him to stop. You want to lie there and let him tease every inch of your body. But this is no longer about you. You are overflowing with endorphins and post-orgasmic rejuvenation, and it is the Lieutenant who has brought you to such a state. He deserves your total and undivided attention.
It feels wonderful to stroke his cock, and you seem to be very good at it, if Kim’s increasingly enthusiastic moans and gasps are of any indication. His skin is velvety soft in your calloused palm, and everything feels perfect and grounded and right. A sudden wave of emotion overcomes you as you realise this is the happiest you have been in a very long time. You blink the traitorous tears away before they threaten to fall, but there is still a lump in your throat. You’re beginning to suspect you are just a regular sex crier.
“I can hear you thinking,” Kim gasps out.
You lift your head out of the crook of his neck to look into his face. He looks amazing like this, as though he can barely believe how good it feels, eyebrows furrowed and teeth worrying his bottom lip.
“I’m thinking about you.” You murmur, pressing your thigh even harder against his balls and squeezing his cock with a purposefully slow upstroke. He writhes under you, and the half-strangled sob he makes as his hands scramble for purchase on your blazer is possibly the best sound you have ever heard in your life (sneezing aside).
“Harry-! Plus fort, comme ça…!”
You obey, increasing the force of your grip as you squeeze him, a steady and punishing rhythm. His closed-mouth groan of approval spurs you on.
“I meant it all. Everything I said. And I’ll still mean it tomorrow, and the day after that.” You know this, with the strongest sense of clarity you have experienced since the start of your amnesia. “I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me. Do you want that?”
You omit the ‘do you want me’ part.
“Fuck…” Kim mutters. “Fuck, yesss.”
Your heart is overflowing. You feel hope, real genuine hope, for a better future. One where maybe you don’t hate yourself, and happiness isn’t something reserved for the rest of the world while you stand on the periphery looking in. You watch his face, his head thrashing from side to side on the pillow. He grits his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in ecstasy. He’s done for. Push him over the edge.
“I want you to cum all over yourself. Make a mess for me, Kim.”
The Lieutenant gasps, tossing his head back as his entire body tenses underneath you. His cock spits in your grasp, painting his torso with white stripes of pleasure. He is certainly making a mess; the sight makes your mouth water. You rub him through it, drinking in his soft whines and hitching breaths. You’re impressed by the amount of semen that spurts out of him – you wonder if he is as disciplined with his orgasms as with his cigarettes. Maybe he’s in the middle of a dry spell. Or maybe you’re just that good. It is probably an amalgamation of all three reasons.
You stroke him until he reaches down to tap on your wrist, signalling over-stimulation. Your movements cease and you loosen your grip, cradling his twitching cock like a delicate treasure. Your eyes haven’t left his face. The serene look of satisfied blankness makes him look youthful and handsome. Your heart aches to look at him, but it’s a sweet, gnawing agony that you would rather endure.
When he opens his eyes to glance at you, a shy little smile playing on his lips, you are unable to stop yourself from leaning forward and pressing your foreheads together. The frames of his glasses dig into your face, but you do not care. Still, you make a mental note to do this again sans spectacles. He reaches up to wrap both arms around your shoulders. He is much more affectionate post-orgasm than you would have expected, but you have learned a great deal of things about him today that have equally surprised and delighted you.
“Good?”
“Very,” He presses a small kiss against the side of your mouth. “I need a moment. Fuck.”
You cannot help it. You beam like a moron. You can add ‘Sex God’ and/or ‘Certified Orgasm Donor’ to your extensive list of talents. Let yourself have this moment before you must return to the cruel world of responsibilities and capital. You lower yourself onto Kim, soft gut resting against lithe stomach, closing the gap between the two of you entirely. You remember the copious semen a moment too late.
“You’ll ruin your shirt.” Kim protests weakly, but his heart is not in it. He sounds half-asleep.
“Whatever. I have a spare.”
Several spares, actually. A veritable wardrobe of bold fashion statements just waiting to be made as you limp around Martinaise.
The pair of you lie there in satisfaction until the threat of impending sleep urges Kim to shove your uncooperative mass off of him. You sigh, sitting up on the bed and removing your blazer and shirt. You use a dry section of the shirt’s fabric to clean Kim’s torso and cock before it is unceremoniously balled up and tossed in the bin, alongside the equally as tarnished washcloth and handkerchief. Sorry, Isobel. The room is muggy with the smell of your sex.
You look through your things for another shirt, pulling yourself together, and in time Kim stands and rights himself too. He wets (and wastes) another handkerchief going over his cock. The pair of you dress and clean in relative silence.
“Well.” You offer up to the air after several minutes, wincing only a little as you lean carelessly on your bad leg.
“Well.” The Lieutenant echoes.
The two of you wear matching expressions of smugness. That was some ground-shaking sex, and you both know it. You don’t need to say anything – following a successful conclusion to the murder investigation, this will happen again. It will probably even happen again following an unsuccessful outcome, unless that outcome entails significant maiming and/or death.
The Lieutenant lets you lead the way, and as you step out into the waning afternoon sunlight, the world seems just a little bit brighter.
#the sheer number of CWs lol#lmk if there's anything else I ought to mention - I tried to cover it all#this is extremely self-indulgent and got away from me but I hope some of you get something out of it!#RIP to everyone in the fishing village subjected to the noises coming out of that shack#nametakenfic#d/isco e/lysium#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz fet#snz kink#snz fucker#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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Worth It (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)
Okay - this fic follows up just over a month from my 3 part K/im x H/arry series (that you don't need to read, I just ended up accidentally writing my fics as part of a continuous AU...again lol), featuring the aftermath of fetishist H/arry dealing with the slow return of certain memories, his budding romantic relationship with K/im and his past hook ups with J/ean
It ended up at 12.9K 😅 All three of them sneeze but it's mostly a J/ean fic (H/arry x J/ean with established H/arry x K/im, and then some H/arry x K/im x J/ean)
~~~~~
Content:
M/M, M/M/M mentioned and ongoing, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, cold sneezes, contagion, mentions of hay fever, rapid sneezes, spray, sneezing on someone, some mess mentions, nose blowing, audibly wet nose rubbing, masturbation, hand jobs, cumming in tissues, tissues, handkerchiefs, coughing, fever, dirty talk, implied praise kink, embarrassment/humiliation, verbal teasing, fantasies and mentions of public masturbation, graphic descriptions of semen, mentions of anal sex, threesomes, brief phone sex, brief exhibitionism/voyeurism fantasy
CW: mentions of past abuse, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, mentions of physical violence, toxic relationships, abusive language (this fic has J/ean in it it's unavoidable), H/arry has a brief fantasy about licking cum off his hands and using cum as lube, mentions of J/ean and H/arry fucking at an active crime scene, self-hatred, some dudebro jabs at homosexuality
NSFW - Minors DNI!
Jean had a cold. A miserable, eye-watering doozy of a cold. It had started as a few errant sniffles and coughs here and there, perhaps a slightly more notable weariness when he spoke – but nothing could have prepared Harry for the sheer amount of sneezing he would witness as the illness progressed. Four days in, and Jean was a wreck. He refused to take sick leave, even having amassed a considerable amount of days over the years due to pure obstinance. He pointedly ignored any glances of either concern or aggravation as he sneezed, over and over, either into the protective cover of his elbow or a bundle of damp tissues. Not even Judit could convince him to go home.
“We’re in over our heads as it is, Jude. I don’t have the time to laze around in bed with all of – this waiting to be finished.” He’d gestured with a wide sweep of his hand not only over his own desk, but at the general maelstrom of officers marching back and forth across the bullpen, coming and going in a constant stream of activity.
“We’re wading knee-deep through an endless river of bureaucratic bullshit with an incapacitated workforce.”
“I can hear you, you know!” Harry had piped up, sat at his desk with his head in his hands as the mountainous piles of paperwork loomed over him. Kim shot him a sympathetic look from where he sat at his own new desk.
“I meant you to!” Jean growled, before a sudden teasing gasp had him spinning desperately away from Judit and sneezing fittishly into the crook of his elbow. Harry’s stomach was aflutter with butterflies as he watched. He couldn’t make out a sound, not over the din of the office and with the sheer willpower Jean had managed to exert over keeping the sneezes as locked down as possible. He finished shuddering a few moments later and extracted his face from the protective covering of his arm. He somehow now looked even worse for wear.
“Désolé.”
This was meant for Judit – Harry was sure he didn’t particularly give a rat’s ass about what anyone else in C Wing and beyond thought about these increasingly recurrent sneezing fits. The patrol officer in question squeezed his shoulder, her face a mask of concern and frustration.
“Will you at least go home when your shift is over?”
“Yes.” Jean lied.
Defeated and entirely used to accepting it with grace, Judit withdrew. She was smart like that. Harry had watched Jean watching her leave, waiting until she was out of sight before allowing his expression to waver – a look of total surrender, mouth dropping open and brows lifting high before his entire face crumpled. He’d sneezed against his wrist - five times consecutively, if the rhythmic trembling of his shoulders was any indication. When he lifted his head at last, he was bleary eyed and snuffling most pathetically. It had gone straight to Harry’s dick. Sensing eyes on him, Harry turned and noticed with no small amount of embarrassment that Kim had been watching him watch Jean. Not knowing what else to do, he’d shrugged his shoulders apologetically. Kim had merely raised an eyebrow and smirked at him before returning to his own work as if nothing at all had transpired.
Harry had been grateful for the noisy ambience and Jean’s own stubborn tactics of suppression. As long as he didn’t look in his direction, he could almost – almost! – pretend that his fellow officer wasn’t clenching with a paroxysm of tickly, cold-induced sneezes every five minutes or so. He had actually managed to put a dent, although minimal, in some of the simpler paperwork. More importantly, he had kept most of the blood in his brain and out of his dick.
It also seemed as though the way Jean stifled his sneezes into almost near silence didn’t provoke much ‘sympathetic’ sneezing in Kim, as Harry had come to label it. In typical analytical fervour, he had come to understand the perfect conditions to induce a reaction in Kim. He had deduced the following:
Volume. The louder the sneeze heard and/or witnessed, the higher the exponentiality of sneezes on Kim’s behalf.
Desperation. The more irritated, aggravated or generally torturous a sneeze sounded or appeared, the more likely this bizarre form of nasal sympathy was to occur.
Pre-existing sensitivities in Kim. Exposure to dust, cold air, a general fatigued immune system – an already irritated nose was prone to further irritation.
Naturally, a combination of all three in Martinaise had given Harry the show of a lifetime. He had (secretly, sadistically) been hoping Kim would catch his cold, but somehow he had managed to avoid it, despite having been miserably worn down and concussed by the time they finally completed the case of The Hanged Man.
Harry kept these ruminations to himself, of course. Maybe he would share them with Kim at some point. For now, at least, there had been no major paradigm shift, and Jean’s sneezes, whilst undoubtedly desperate, were lacking in volume, and Kim was entirely healthy and irritation free. That wasn’t to say there hadn't been any response from the Lieutenant, no. Harry had looked over with depleting subtlety more than once, prompted by a soft gasp, to watch Kim shudder into a small fit of his own on the tail end of Jean’s, and damn near bit through his tongue each and every time.
This system of deny and ignore had proven useful only until the night shift began. Normally, the bullpen was busier and the officers replacing those having finished the day shift would more or less keep the building near constantly occupied. Whatever evil god ruled over Revachol had decided that day, however, to summon every gang banger and petty criminal imaginable and enlist them in the sole mission of keeping damn near all officers of the 41st entirely occupied – and, more importantly, out of the office. It also just so happened to be the night that Harry had reluctantly agreed to stay and get through some paperwork, and Jean had in turn stubbornly refused to leave him unattended. Harry was slowly regaining his trust, and in Jean’s defence, he had evidently been awful at staying on top of paperwork pre-amnesia, and just as resistant to completing it in his recovery.
It shouldn’t have been an issue – but with every officer that left, taking both their physical presence and ambient sound with them, it was increasingly difficult to ignore Jean and the steadfast progression of his cold. Whilst his sneezes were apparently on continuous lockdown, he had long abandoned any attempts to blow his nose in relative silence. Every couple of minutes, Harry’s heart raced in his chest as the loud, obtrusive sound of Jean forcing air and mess out of his miserably congested sinuses echoed out in the office space. His nervous energy was manifesting in a persistent shake in his leg, tapping his foot over and over.
Kim had left early, for him, as well. He had made a habit of staying a few hours or more post shift ever since his transfer to the 41st, realising just how much they had fallen behind in administration. Harry admired him for it – paperwork, though sometimes exciting to record in the moment, was undoubtedly one of the worst parts of being an RCM officer, tediously boring at times – and yet Kim was consistently fastidious, conscientious, and perhaps most importantly, punctual. Today, though, he had excused himself almost within a minute of the day’s end.
“There’s a pivotal race in the TipTop Tournée being broadcast tonight at 7pm – I’ve missed the last few. I’m dying to see how it turns out.” He explained in response to Harry’s wounded complaints about abandonment.
“Oh yeah…you did mention that, come to think of it.” Harry recalled that when Kim had been discussing the race, he had been paying too much attention to the way the Lieutenant’s face had lit up in enthusiasm to really retain any information pertaining to the date of the event in question.
“I’m also exhausted – and it looks like the both of you are, too.” He glanced pointedly at Jean. “Don’t stay too late, detectives. Insufficient health begets insufficient policework.”
“I’m fine.” Jean croaked. Neither Harry nor Kim offered a response, though both had winced at the sheer raspiness of it.
Harry looked up at Kim as the Lieutenant pushed his chair under his desk. His big, baleful and truly pathetic eyes signaled quite clearly ‘do not leave me alone with him’. Kim simply looked at him, shook his head almost imperceptibly, and smiled in response. Harry sighed.
“Bye, Kim.” He mumbled despairingly.
“Goodbye, Harry.” Kim replied pleasantly. He tipped his head at Jean, currently recovering from his most recent series of tightly stifled sneezes. “Officer Vicquemare.”
“Lieutenant.” Jean muttered, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork. He looked thoroughly unwell, and Kim’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before meeting Harry’s gaze. The pair of them shrugged at each other, and Kim was out the door moments later.
And so, here Harry sat, not 45 minutes later and already so unbelievably sexually frustrated he had practically eaten half a pencil. It just wasn’t fair. The bullpen was probably the most silent he had ever known it to be in his entire time at the 41st. He knew this in his bones, regardless of solid memories to go off. Besides the sound of the city beyond the windows of the building and the hum of various electronics, the only other noises to be heard were as follows: Harry’s audible pencil consumption. Harry’s tapping foot on the linoleum floor. Harry’s fingers drumming on his desk. Harry’s grunts of frustration. Jean’s throat clearing. Jean’s coughing. Jean’s sniffling, sneezing, nose blowing – every noise imaginable of the miserably congested. And the inexplicably loud clock driving Harry to the brink of insanity as it ticked its way through this test of mental and physical fortitude.
The tail-end of Jean’s latest sneezes caused his sinuses to squeak quite audibly. It was the final straw for Harry – he needed to take a fucking walk. He pushed back his chair and stood up much more violently than intended. Jean cast a weary glance his way.
“Not leaving, just – kitchen. Need anything?”
Jean stared at him a moment longer, leaving Harry to sweat and wilt under his stony gaze, before returning to his work. He cradled his forehead in one hand, closing his eyes for a moment.
“No.”
Harry waited to see if anything would follow. When it didn’t, he strode out of the bullpen and down the hallway, shielding his erection as best he could with what he hoped was a subtle hand in front of his crotch. He walked towards the kitchen, fully intending to grab a sugary snack of some description as a form of distraction, but decided last minute to make his way to one of the several payphones at the end of the corridor.
“Hello?” Kim answered after the third dial tone.
“Kim,” Harry sighed desperately into the handset. “I think I’m dying. Jean, He is - He’s. Driving me insane.”
Harry heard Kim sigh an equally desperate sigh of his own. In his mind’s eye and in Kim’s apartment, the Lieutenant cast a nervous glance towards the clock on his wall. The hands were rapidly approaching 7pm. He was comfortably settled next to his radio with a can of beer. This was not ideal timing.
“You’re not dying, detective.” He offered drily. Harry was undeterred.
“But you see, Kim, I think I am. I have no idea how to deal with this. You know I don’t. You know that firsthand.”
The entire reason he and Kim had fucked in the first place had been because this stupid fetish had rendered him incapable of keeping his dick in his pants. The results had been overwhelmingly positive – they were still fucking now. Regularly. They had even started sleeping over at each other’s apartments. They went on walks and to cafes together. Neither had vocally confirmed it, but it seemed obvious to Harry that they were at least kind-of sort- of dating. Pseudo-almost-boyfriends, one might say. It had been a happy accident, and his embarrassing inability to keep his shit together had somehow – inexplicably - won Kim over.
Jean was not Kim.
Harry’s memories had been coming back incrementally – little pieces here and there with the occasional groundbreaking moments of picture-perfect recollection. He had remembered very little about Jean – had forgotten him entirely with the initial amnesia – and this was evidently, and understandably, an extremely sore spot for the younger officer. It turns out that he was Harry’s bona fide best friend, on top of his partner. More complicated was the fact that they had fucked, many times. This had come to light when Jean had caught Harry kissing Kim in the precinct parking lot.
“Well. I can’t say it isn’t somewhat relieving that an Officer as competent as Lieutenant Kitsuragi has equally as shitty taste in men as I do.”
Harry had barely a moment’s notice to let those words sink in before the vivid memory of Jean writhing underneath him knocked the air out of him. From that moment, he had been inconsolable. Was he in a relationship with Jean? Was he actively cheating on him right now? Had he liked men before Kim?? Jean and Kim had in turn done their best to mollify him, settling him and themselves into Kim’s Motor Carriage to conceal this latest mental breakdown from any passing officers.
Jean had confirmed that they were not in a relationship, and they had done very little fucking, if any, for at least six months, for obvious drug-and-alcohol-spiral related reasons. Harry was a little relieved, but still devastated to have forgotten. He could tell that this gaping nothingness in his brain regarding Jean deeply hurt the younger man, and for that he was truly apologetic.
“It’s fine, Harry.” Jean had spoken to him in the kind of tone one might use to console a cornered animal. “You remembered something just now. You’ll remember more, over time.”
It was the softest Jean had been with him since Martinaise. Harry had felt the tears welling up in his eyes almost immediately.
“Kim wasn’t my bisexual awakening?” He’d asked in a tiny voice, sounding ridiculous but authentically devastated and confused enough that neither Kim nor Jean had laughed at the absurdity of it.
“It’s okay.” Kim had reached out and patted his arm. “It doesn’t change anything. I won’t take it personally.”
Harry had burst into tears anyway. He was still crying by the time Kim’s MC rolled to a stop outside his apartment building, and was only just winding down by the time he was escorted to his flat by both Kim and Jean.
In present day, he leaned his head against the wall beside him. Kim cleared his throat.
“I can’t stay on the phone for long. I’m not sure what to suggest other than finding a means to take the edge off. Actually-“ Harry could hear that he immediately regretted that particular phrasing. “What I should say is, find a way of achieving relief.”
“Kim.” Harry smiled. “Are you, for the second time since we’ve met, suggesting I rub one out during work hours?”
“I assumed it was par for the course with you, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.” The way his voice dropped an octave with the flirtation was doing nothing for Harry’s erection.
“You’re not helping,” He whined down the phone.
“Probably not. I’m just telling you what I would do if I were you. Find somewhere private and have an orgasm.”
Now that really didn’t help. The thought of Kim masturbating at his desk, head thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured himself in plain sight made Harry’s cock twitch. He ignored the ‘private’ part, instead picturing the smaller man surrounded by an audience of hungry onlookers.
“Dammit.” He growled into the mouthpiece. He heard Kim chuckle on the other end of the line. “I guess I’m going to have to. But I’m worried he’ll come look for me if I’m gone for too long.”
“Well,” Kim started. Harry could just picture the subtle smirk of his mouth. “It shouldn’t take you very long, all things considered. Maybe you could start now.”
“You know,” Harry breathed out, “I didn’t peg you for a sex pest. Encouraging phone sex on top of it all.”
“Relax, Harry, I’m just teasing you. You’re fun to tease.”
“Fucker.”
Kim just laughed. The sound of it made Harry soft all over.
“I guess I really should go and…take care of myself. I can’t sit there anymore, constantly on the verge of going off in my pants like a fucking teenager.”
“You’re just sensitive. It’s not a bad thing. Extremely impressive for a man your age, and with your history of substance abuse.”
Kim was, within reason, in the habit of putting a positive spin on all of Harry’s flaws and fuck-ups. Harry could see how from the outside this may appear overly mollycoddling, but even if that were the case, it had done wonders for his almost non-existent self-esteem. He drank the compliment in as eagerly as he would have liked to down a double vodka and lemonade.
“I guess, but – I mean, it’s so awkward. I don’t even know if he – you know, knows. About my thing.”
Kim laughed again, uncharacteristically hard for him. Harry blinked and said nothing, letting the younger man compose himself.
“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. But he most certainly knows. The two of us have actually discussed it in relative detail.”
Harry gaped, almost dropping the phone in shock.
“You Judases! Ganging up on me when my back’s turned-!”
“You’re being dramatic.” Kim drawled. He was clearly enjoying this reaction. “It was a short conversation, one smoke break. I don’t even remember how we got onto the topic. But rest assured, he definitely knows.”
Harry paused, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to probe for more.
“How…does he know. In what way?”
“Let’s just say…that you liked to take advantage of Satellite-Officer Vicquemare’s hay fever – which I’ve come to understand is quite impressive, in full swing.”
Harry’s cock throbbed dangerously in his pants, drooling into the fabric of his underwear.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk…!”
“Mhmm. In fact, I believe you almost contaminated an active crime scene with semen residue following such an exploit. Jean seemed to imply this was the case.”
“God…” Harry muttered. He suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of loss mingling in with the horniness – not dissimilar to the way he felt when Dora sprung to mind. “I wish I could remember. This sucks.”
“…I’m sorry, detective. I didn’t mean to upset you. For the record, I haven’t disclosed any particular details of intimacy between us to him.” He paused for a moment, sounding genuinely dismayed. Harry knew it hadn’t been his intention to trigger any amnesia-related sadness.
“Okay.” He muttered pathetically, suddenly on the verge of tears. He was slowly realising that even without the withdrawal or presence of narcotics in his system, his default setting as a human being appeared to be overly-emotional and very bad at controlling it. He heard Kim tut affectionately over the line.
“These things will come back to you, sporadically. The hospital has said as much. You don’t need to worry, I promise.”
“…Yeah.” Harry nodded, tears beading his eyes. Kim couldn’t see him, but the motion alone was soothing.
His erection seemed undeterred by this rapid swinging of moods. It felt like he didn’t often give his body time to catch up with his emotions. Either way, it was still there, tenting his trousers in plain view of anyone who might walk past. He glanced around. The building was still eerily empty. That one unearthed memory of Jean squirming underneath him as he pistoned in and out of him danced seductively behind his eyelids every time he closed them.
Kim was waiting patiently for him to speak. Harry knew the race would be starting imminently – he should wrap this up.
“Kim?”
“Yes?”
“I might have to fuck him over this. Would that…be a problem?”
He waited with eyes scrunched shut for Kim’s response. This was…a grey area. Something they hadn’t really discussed. Exclusivity.
There had been one evening – a particularly emotional one, in which Jean and Harry had been working through their past grievances. This involved a great deal of Harry being exposed to more and more news of the complete and utter asshole he had become as his alcohol and drug abuse soared. The pain on Jean’s face at times made him feel physically ill just shy of vomiting. He was disgusted with himself.
Kim had been present, a self-elected referee to ensure neither men whipped each other into an emotional frenzy from which there was no return – or at least to step in if things turned physically aggressive. The whole thing had ended up sort of like a strange counselling session with Kim as the occasional de facto therapist. It was funny, looking back. It felt like they’d made genuine progress together, but by the end of it Harry was exhausted and practically oozing self-hatred. What had started as comfort from both Kim and Jean in the form of a gentle palm rubbing his back here, a reassuring squeeze to the thigh there had…escalated. Quite rapidly. He didn’t even remember who made the first move but fantastically, miraculously, an evening of homosexual group sex had unfolded.
By the end of it, Harry had been physically sated but in a state of near disbelief. He could no longer tell if the amnesia had been the worst or best thing that had happened to him. An orgasmic gay threesome with his fellow police officers was definitely not what he had expected going into that discussion, but he wasn’t about to look that gift horse in the mouth. In a matter of weeks and culminating in this one evening, he had gained a kind-of-sort-of boyfriend and more or less patched things up with his forgotten-best-friend-cum-fuck-buddy. And he’d even gotten to watch them fuck each other on the living room floor when he’d taken a breather for a glass of water.
Nothing of that nature had occurred between the three of them since. Nothing had been awkward the next day at work, not even remotely. Jean and Kim seemed perfectly at ease with each other, at least from what Harry could see. In addition, Jean’s face seemed to light up with hope each time Harry remembered something about him – even the awful things. It was bittersweet, getting to know him all over again. He wanted to do better than before – couldn’t even imagine treating Jean the way he had. He wanted to respect his boundaries and take things slow – if that was what Jean wanted.
Fucking Jean in the office without Kim because all of the sneezing he’d been doing had gone straight to his dick was probably the worst idea he’d had in a while. Not a boundary to be seen – and he would be taking it about as slow as a Mach 5 missile.
Kim broke the silence in a matter of seconds, though to Harry it may as well have been hours, for the agonising anxiety it caused him.
“I…don’t recommend exposing yourself to the virus when your immune system is already so compromised.”
Harry huffed out a dead-pan laugh.
“I think you know that’s not what I mean. Is it…okay? Me and him, without you there?”
Kim hesitated for a moment, then let out a measured sigh. Harry could picture him massaging the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses.
“As much as I like to indulge you, I’m okay with not being sneezed on by Satellite-Officer Vicquemare for now.”
His voice had a playful lilt to it, which was somewhat reassuring, but wasn’t enough.
“I’m serious, you know.” Harry gripped the mouthpiece of the phone tightly, the plastic audibly crunching under the pressure. “I really l-!..like you.”
Fuck. He had almost, almost dropped the L-bomb like a batshit crazy person. He felt himself flushing like a bashful little boy. Kim said nothing. Harry swallowed nervously and continued.
“I want to be with you. Like a boyfriend, I think. I don’t know. I’m not – I’m not very good at this. I’m evidently horrible at relationships.”
“…Harry-“
“And it’s important for you to understand that. Umm. I’m not just using you. For sex.”
“Harry.” Kim said. His tone was warm and patient. Harry didn’t interrupt him this time.
“I like you too.” He sounded genuine, and happy. “If you’re asking me to be your boyfriend, then…yes. I would like to try that.”
Harry punched the air in a silent dance of victory. He managed to swallow the urge to whoop like a lunatic and let Kim finish.
“You have a shared history with Jean. He’s an excellent partner to you, and an exemplary RCM officer. You were never in a romantic relationship, and neither of you have expressed an active desire to pursue one. I trust him, and I trust you. And I really do like Officer Vicquemare…”
Harry listened, sensing more.
“I also liked the way he whimpered when I fucked him up the ass.”
Harry let out the strangest combination of surprised laughter and heated groaning. Kim chuckled in response.
“You still haven’t answered my question.” Harry pushed after a beat. “If it’s an issue – getting my rocks off, with him, like this – then I promise, I won’t so much as look in his general direction-!”
“It’s okay, Harry. Really. Again, despite everything, I trust you both entirely. Maybe I’m completely stupid, I don’t know. I’m still getting…acclimated.”
That was an understatement if there ever had been. Precinct 41 was everything Precinct 57 was not – chaotic, abrasive, action-packed, a clusterfuck of insanity. In Harry’s opinion, though muddled of mind that he was, Kim was doing an excellent job of taking everything in his stride.
“We can talk about what we’re doing when I see you tomorrow. My race started two minutes ago. Go and get sneezed on by your subordinate officer. Or, like I said, don’t. It seems like a particularly nasty cold.”
Harry had been doing a great deal of gaping stupidly over the span of this conversation. He did it again for good measure.
“I…don’t even know where to start. Man…Okay. I’ll…figure something out. We’ll talk tomorrow?” He asked, his heart fluttering in his chest.
“Tomorrow.” Kim agreed. “You’re ridiculous. Turns out, I like that.”
Harry grinned.
“I hope your guy wins.”
“Me too. Goodnight, detective. See you in the morning.”
“Night.”
Harry hung the phone back in its cradle before exhaling a huge breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. He felt giddy and exhilarated with a hopefulness he hadn’t experienced in what had to have been years.
“What the fuck,” he laughed in the empty corridor. This was insanity, but if there was anything this last month and a half had taught him, it was to go with the flow and enjoy it. He didn’t always need to be fighting tooth and nail for control in a Universe that did what it damn well pleased, no matter how hard he resisted. This acceptance of futility was nothing like the suicidal ideation of his drug-induced spirals. It was paradoxically the most empowering realisation he had come to perhaps in his entire adult life. Whatever happened, would happen. He would accept it with as much grace as he was capable. Which was admittedly not a lot, but hey. Nobody could say he wasn’t trying his best.
~~~~~
Harry helped himself to biscuits and tea in the kitchen and sat for a while, contemplating his approach. Jean and Kim were very different beasts when it came to the appeal of Harry’s…well, everything. Whilst Kim appeared – and still very much was – quite distant at times, Harry could practically see him opening up day after day like the delicate unfurling of flower petals. Jean had known Harry for years and had both the psychological and physical scars to show for it. Being a pathetic, horny freak had perhaps charmed Kim due to its novelty. Begging Jean for a quick office fuck, from what he could glean, was surely the go-to approach he’d used on his partner before he’d forgotten everything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go down that route again, especially when Jean was undeniably ill and pissed off about it.
He sighed, dunking his last biscuit in his tea and barely even noticing when half of it sank to the bottom of the mug in a soggy lump. He didn’t want to be overly direct, but he doubted there was any other way to approach the matter. He made up his mind and decided he would prefer any rejection coming from Jean in the form of a quick punch to the face rather than any awkward verbal letdown – the kind of which would inevitably follow any subtle attempts at flirtation on his part.
When Harry arrived back at C Wing, Jean was mid sneeze. Harry watched him from the doorframe and knew with utter certainty that he had to fuck him. It was a primal need at this point.
“hH-Dtch!-Ngxt!-Gkkt! Hh! Dsh-tshh-tsh!”
Perhaps he hadn’t noticed Harry watching him – how could he, as preoccupied as he was sneezing himself stupid. He was stifling a lot less successfully, barely trying at all. His poor sinuses sounded miserably swollen, his inhales when he was given half a chance to take them shaky and exhausted, the poor bastard. Harry wanted his cock buried to the hilt inside of him.
Jean finished at last, sighing from the depths of his being and simply sitting still for a moment. Arms propped up on the desk, he leaned his forehead into his left hand, tentatively rubbing his nostrils with one crooked knuckle of his right. Harry strode towards him and stood before his desk, practically vibrating with energy. Jean lifted his head, cast his bleary eyes towards Harry’s face where they lingered for a moment, before taking in the impressive bulge Harry now made no effort to shield.
“What the fuck are you-”
“You’re driving me crazy. I want to pull my cock out and cum all over the place.”
Jean’s mouth dropped open. It was somewhat pleasing to Harry, to see such an expression on his partner’s face. These days, being most often met with derision, bemusement or melancholy, it was nice to shake things up a little, to know he wasn’t an entirely predictable cliché to Jean. He also liked seeing that mouth wide open – the suggestiveness of it. He wanted to see that more often.
Once the initial shock seemed to leave his system, Jean glanced around as if to confirm that there was nobody else to eavesdrop on Harry’s relative insanity. The room was as empty as it had remained for the past couple of hours – no other officers magically appeared from behind any furniture, ready to point and jeer. He turned back to Harry, but the older man cut him off before he could start chewing him out for his unabashed brazenness.
“I’m serious, you know. You’re painfully hot right now. I can’t think about anything else.”
He briefly squeezed himself through his trousers for emphasis. Jean’s eyes lingered long enough to make Harry grin.
“…And how would Kitsuragi feel about you touching yourself in front of me, getting off on my misery like the fucking pervert you are?”
Jean’s words were biting but there was no real animosity behind them. His bleary eyes seemed brighter, alert and pensive all of a sudden. Something about the way Harry’s cock throbbed in response to the derision, the ease with which the words poured out of Jean with no hesitation at all made it clear that this was an area of great familiarity for the both of them.
“Oh, don’t worry about Kim. He all but told me to fuck this out of my system.”
That wasn’t strictly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Jean scoffed in response.
“I knew he was a freak but I didn’t take him for a cuckold.”
“Hey, that’s not-“
“Shut up, you presumptuous cretin! I should punch you in the face for calling your boyfriend and asking permission to – what, fuck me? Before you even asked me?”
Harry cringed a little. This was actual, legitimate anger now – and when Jean put it like that, he really did seem like an asshole. A selfish part of him loved hearing his partner refer to Kim as his boyfriend, but he buried it for the moment. He may be a presumptuous cretin but even he knew if he started giggling like a love-struck teenage girl right now he really would be getting a fist to the face.
He paused for a moment, taking in Jean’s ire and the way his pale eyes pierced into his own. And then he opened his mouth.
“Don’t take this out on Kim. You seemed perfectly fine letting us double team you a few weeks ago.”
Jean made a strangled sound and flushed so hard he looked almost purple under the shitty, fluorescent lighting.
“That was different, you moron! We weren’t in an office, for one. It just happened. And I could breathe out of my fucking nose then.”
Harry couldn’t help the little twitch of pleasure his cock gave at both the memory of their sex and Jean bringing attention to his current, miserable condition. He peered down his nose at him, happy the younger man was sat down whilst he stood. It gave him a little leverage, the illusion of domination, to be towering over him right now.
“I doubt we’ve never done it here before. And Kim told me that you told him – behind my back, by the way – that we’ve fucked at crime scenes too!”
Trying not to think about the grossly teenage sounding 'he said, she said' turn of phrase, he initially omitted the part about Jean’s hay fever before hesitating, reconsidering and adding:
“And from the sounds of it, you couldn’t breathe through your nose then either. And you still wanted it, Vic.”
Jean blinked at him, looking a confusing mix of sheepish, perturbed and aroused. Harry realised he’d called him ‘Vic’; it felt familiar, rolled right off his tongue. That nickname on top of the damning accusation of his willing participation seemed to have rendered his partner temporarily speechless. Whilst it was pretty fun, it also felt a little too much like bullying. Harry sighed, and dropped to his knees, resting his chin on the desk and peering up at Jean with big, watery eyes. He hoped that the shift in positioning would make Jean feel better, even if it made him look pathetic.
“Please?” He batted his eyelashes up at the younger man. “Getting off will help me focus on these cases.”
Jean scoffed, again, and scrubbed his animated nostrils with one crooked finger. Harry zoned in on the motion, biting his lip as an audible squishing noise filled the air and Jean’s finger came away slightly shiny.
“You want to get off? Go jerk off in the bathroom and quit bugging me.”
Harry growled, gripping the edge of the desk on either side of his chin and staring up at Jean, who was no longer pink with embarrassment but staring daggers at him all the same.
“But – don’t you want to watch me cum for you? Because of you?” He scrambled to his feet again, leaning over the desk and hovering his face right in front of Jean’s. The younger man’s breathing seemed laboured, and not strictly because of his cold. He was turned on by this. Harry decided to go for gold and flashed him the sexiest version of ‘The Expression’ he could muster. Jean looked pained.
“Harry…” He breathed against Harry’s lips, leaning subconsciously towards him. “You can make things up to me by doing your goddamn work.”
“That’s…that’s kind of putting the cart before the horse, though.” Harry mumbled. Jean likes horses, he remembered. Maybe he’d find that turn of phrase endearing.
Harry watched him take it all in. He could practically visualise the process of Jean’s thoughts as he worked through resistance, indignation, and then – at last – reluctant acceptance.
“God fucking damn it.”
He stood, pressing a finger underneath his red-raw nostrils as if another sneeze was imminent. Harry hoped that was the case. He staggered backwards, excited grin plastered to his face and heart pounding in his chest.
“Don’t look so fucking pleased with yourself.” Jean muttered, walking in the direction of the copy room. Harry continued to look pleased as punch, trailing after Jean’s purposeful stride with a slightly more awkward gait. The zipper of his trousers strained against his burgeoning erection, growing impossibly harder now that there was promise of relief.
Harry slammed the door shut behind them, locking it for good measure just in case the station inexplicably flooded with life. Jean was leaning back against the printer when Harry turned to face him, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. In this stance, he could really appreciate the results of the many hours the younger man spent working out to an almost pathological degree. His biceps strained against the cotton of his shirt, and the way his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, leaving his hairy forearms exposed…Harry fought back a sudden pavlovian deluge of saliva at the sight of him. The way Jean was regarding him with a mixture of irritation, arousal and amusement was doing nothing to calm the throbbing between his legs.
Harry walked the few steps towards Jean and stared back. When Jean made no move, said nothing but offered a congested sniffle in response, Harry tilted his head a little in confusion.
“So, umm…?”
The older detective motioned with his hands, a distinctive ‘what gives?’ motion. Jean just smiled derisively at him.
“What? I thought you came in here to jerk off. So jerk off.” Even though the cold had left him pallid and drained, Harry didn’t miss the way his pale eyes glittered as he spoke.
“But, can I? I mean, aren’t we-?” Harry floundered slightly. This was not what he had had in mind. He realised suddenly he wasn’t entirely sure what he expected from the interaction. He’d only really been thinking about having an orgasm. But Jean had lead him here – surely that was an invitation for – what, a quick fuck? Hand jobs, blow jobs, mutual masturbation? Just. Something…together.
Jean’s amusement visibly increased with every passing moment of Harry’s braindead confusion. Sadistic bastard, Harry thought. His dick twitched in earnest.
“Use your words, shitkid.” Jean smirked at him, rounding off his command with a waterlogged sniffle that sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He didn’t give Harry so much as a chance to do so before continuing.
“I came in here to sneeze in privacy – you followed me. You thought I was going to drop to my knees and suck your dick?”
Harry visibly wilted, mouth dropping open in dismay. This was revenge. Petty, mean-spirited revenge. Sure, Jean hadn’t actually agreed to do anything – Harry had just followed him of his own accord but – but! The implications!
Jean watched his face as these thoughts whirled round his brain. Apparently, he must have looked about as pathetic as he felt, and Jean started to laugh. It was a nice laugh – a genuine laugh, maybe a little endearing and at odds with the spiteful way he had been addressing him moments earlier. Harry waited for him to finish, and he soon did, clearing his throat a little as if embarrassed at his own naked display of amusement.
“It’s okay, shitkid. You can take your cock out and enjoy the show. But I’m not touching you – I feel like fucking shit.”
Harry listened to him speak, watching his face intently. This was the first time Jean had admitted out loud to feeling unwell, even if it was blatantly both visually and aurally obvious to everyone else around him. It seemed he’d tired himself out with the domineering bravado, slumping a little against the copy machine, no longer having the energy to maintain his upright posture. His nostrils were also twitching, a surefire sign that he was about to start sneezing, and soon.
“Fine. Okay.” Harry muttered, already feeling the heat gathering and pulsing outwards from his groin at the mere promise of what was to come. He managed to extract his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, narrowly avoiding catching the delicate skin in his zipper, and wrapped one sweaty, spit slick palm around it. It immediately felt incredible, and he swore as he started to stroke it. This would not take very long.
Looking up from the tantalising sight of his own hand working his cock – a huge cock, a cock he was pathetically proud of – he focused his eyes back on Jean, and was glad he had done so. He stared as the younger man shuddered with a round of desperate, tickly little sneezes, all successfully stifled into silence against an outstretched pointer finger. Fuck, Jean looked good like that, cringing into that tight, pained expression as he bit down on every sneeze. His nostrils looked so lovely and so red in sharp contrast with the rest of his pale complexion. Harry wanted those nostrils pressed up against the shaft of his cock. He thought about Kim doing the same, willingly teasing him with sneezes and making him cum embarrassingly quickly, like the way he had done last week as they fooled around on his couch. His cock drooled precum.
Jean had a moment’s reprieve before he was scrambling in his trouser pockets for a tissue, extracting one at last that looked entirely worse for wear – balled up into no more than a lumpy mass, completely past the point of usefulness. All the same, Jean was bringing it up to his poor, flaring nostrils, giving Harry just a moment to take in his creasing eyebrows, the grimace of his open mouth as the tickle crested and he sneezed fiercely into it.
“Hn’tshh!! TSH’iew! Nd’Tsh! Tsh-Tshht!!”
He gasped, an intensely desperate sound that had Harry gasping too. And then the cycle repeated.
‘Ddtsh! Tsch’uu-TShht!! Hgk’Tssht! Huhd’Tishh-Tissh-‘Ddtshieww!!”
Harry was in pure, fetishistic ecstasy, squeezing and stroking his cock for all he was worth to those gorgeous little sneezes. It was so erotic, that such a gruff, muscular man was rendered entirely helpless by such proportionately tiny releases. His own huge sneezes were a lot more appropriate for a man his size, he thought, but the contradiction only seemed to turn him on even more than if Jean had sneezed with equally gigantic proportions. It was endearing, if one could describe something as such even whilst it resulted in an erection the hardness of which titanium couldn’t hold a candle to.
Jean paused for a moment, nose still buried in the pathetic knot of tissue, breath scissoring in and out of him. Harry steeled himself for more, slowing down his stroking so that he wouldn’t topple over the edge just yet. He wanted to cum so badly, but he wanted more. He wanted to watch Jean’s face completely unobstructed by hand or tissue alike. He wanted to see the way they would overwhelm him without the interference of suppression. He bit his bottom lip, trying not to whimper as his subordinate officer hitched, and hitched, and hitched -
“Please,” he gasped out, the sudden raspy outburst a lot louder than he had intended. It was evidently loud enough to throw Jean off balance, huffing in frustration as his sneeze failed to culminate past a desperate, vocal “Huhhdt-!!”. Harry groaned in response, felt his dick throb in his grasp as Jean’s face pinkened in embarrassment over the aborted release.
“What is it? You distracted me. Fuck, it burns!”
He proceeded to scrub at his poor nostrils with the sodden tissue, nudging the tip of his nose from side to side. Harry could tell he was genuinely tiring of the persistence of the tickle. Vague memories suddenly skimmed his brain of Jean at the tail-end of spring and over summer, bullying his nose with the knuckles of his hand when a pollen-induced sneezing fit lay just out of reach. Come to think of it, they were coming up to May very soon…god. Harry sighed, squeezing his cock to these happy thoughts and watching as precum beaded at the head. Fuck, this felt so good.
“Sorry, sorry, just please - don’t use the tissue. And don’t hold them back. Please? You’re so fucking hot.”
Jean’s blush deepened – whether in frustration or arousal at the compliment, he couldn’t be sure. Either way, it went straight to his cock.
“What? Fuck you. You don’t get to tell me how to sneeze.”
He was a little pissed, his accent thickened in overly performative and righteous indignation at the suggestion of catering to Harry’s specific whims. If Harry wasn’t mistaken, and his gut assured him he was not, it seemed like defensiveness against the fact that he would very much like to be told what to do. This felt, again, familiar. It made Harry harder to hear the way his loss of composure elongated the vowels in the word ‘sneeze’. He stroked himself a little faster.
“Come on, Vic. Do it for the station. I need to cum and clear my head so I can finish all that pesky paperwork. Please?”
He batted his eyelashes again. It wouldn’t have worked on just anyone, no – the sight of a 44 years old, recovering alcoholic police officer, wild-eyed and desperate with cock in hand, begging for his subordinate officer to sneeze uncovered so he could shoot his load. But this was Jean – normal rules did not apply.
“We’ve been through this, you prick. You should fucking do your paperwork without the promise of orgasm because it’s your fucking job!” Jean spat, raising his voice a little more than his irritated throat could take. He coughed harshly for several moments into a raised fist before sighing miserably, glancing up at Harry with a look of surrender. Harry shivered a little, resumed squeezing the head of his cock where he had temporarily abated in nervous concern at the voracity of the coughing. He ended up letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper, bucking into his own grip. Jean sighed.
“Fine. I need to sneeze again, don’t distract m’hh-! Me…”
His breath started to softly hitch. To Harry’s delight, he shoved the soggy tissue back into his pocket and let his head fall back ever so slightly, allowing him to get a perfect view of his crumpling, desperate expression. Jean didn’t think he was a good-looking guy, but Harry wholeheartedly disagreed. He wasn’t one to preach the importance of self-love when he himself struggled to look in the mirror knowing how attractive he’d once been, only to squander it – even if recently, it was getting a little easier to do so. Bravado and charisma masked his discomfort – Jean’s buffer was merely rudeness and aggression. But either way, as he gasped his way into another fit of cock-throbbingly desperate sneezes, Harry had hardly found him more desirable.
“Hhd’Tschht!-D’tshh!! Hh! Hagk’Tisshhiew!! Hgk’Tschh! Hupt’TISHhhiew!! Ihgk’TSHhiew! Higk’TZSCHhhh!...‘DDTSH’uuu!!”
Jean shuddered, gripping the surface behind him as the force of the releases threatened to topple him. Each sneeze sounded positively ruined, as if his body could barely handle the cold-induced tickle that flared again and again. The first two Jean had stifled out of habit, before he’d remembered Harry would very much like to be sprayed with every single one of them. By the time he’d finished, his eyes and nose were leaking, and Harry’s legs were starting to shake with the effort of holding himself upright, a mind-numbing orgasm looming and sapping him of motor control.
“…You’re going to fall down if you don’t hold onto something. We don’t need a repeat of you nearly braining yourself on the edge of a table.”
Jean brought this up so readily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Harry should easily remember this fact, the fact that he and Jean had fucked around enough that he had (embarrassingly) injured himself falling to his knees in orgasm before. And he should remember. Why couldn’t he remember?
“I…don’t remember anything like that.” Harry confessed, throat tightening a little.
“I know. It’s okay.” Jean softened immediately, opening his arms up to Harry. “Come here.”
He shifted forward until he was stood between the protective embrace of Jean’s spread thighs, sighing a little as the younger man reached out to place both hands on his waist, steadying him. Harry himself reached out with his free hand past Jean’s waist to press against the sturdy surface of the copy machine. He watched as Jean took a moment to scrub at his nose with the wad of used tissues. It was such a handsome nose – prominent and strong, perfectly suited to his face. Watching it twitch and wriggle and hearing the soft clicks of moisture the motions created as Jean bullied it made his cock throb. He so desperately wanted to replace Jean’s hand with his own and play with it himself, but before he could even move to do so, Jean was dropping his hands right back to Harry’s waist and sneezing all over his chest.
“AEGK’Tssch’uu!! Higk’TSschTtt! ‘TSCHh’uu!! Hh’TISH’ieww!!”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Each sneeze sounded so incredibly desperate, so exhausted yet so overpowering, accompanied by a burst of thick spray. Harry’s cock drooled over his knuckles and he whined, low and loud. By the time the fourth sneeze had completed, Harry could feel (and see) the fabric of his shirt sticking to his chest, discoloured where the spray had dampened it. Jean’s tongue reflexively licked his bottom lip clean, thoroughly soaked by the force of his expulsions. He peered tentatively at Harry before his face eased into a relieved smile.
“You really do still like it. Getting drenched by my sneezes.” He was smiling – salacious and assured all at once.
“Yeahhh…Yeah, I really fucking do,” Harry sighed, staring at Jean adoringly as he worked over his cock with a renewed vigour. “Bless you.”
He all but purred the blessing out. It turned him on just as much as any dirty talk, he realised; it was a phrase that encapsulated his adoration, gratefulness and arousal all in one. Jean seemed to enjoy the attention, as well – his breath hitched in a decidedly non-sneeze fashion, and Harry smirked at him.
“Thank you.” Jean practically purred back, gently rubbing his thumbs against Harry’s sides. He stared back into Harry’s eyes, pupils blown so wide the pale irises were almost swallowed by black. “My nose tickles so fucking much. I just want to crawl into bed and sneeze until I fall asleep.”
Oooh, he was good at this. He had an undoubtedly extensive history of saying equally as specific things to Harry. The image of Jean curled up in bed and sneezing all over himself and his bed sheets was a potent one. Harry shivered, biting his lip hard as his knees quivered and struggled to keep from bending.
“Fuckkk…”
The arm he had leant against the copy machine was shaking too, elbow caving inwards and causing him to lean closer into Jean’s space. He didn’t seem to mind, nosing at Harry’s jawline and sniffling noisily. Poor fucking thing – he sounded so congested.
“Poor baby…” Harry breathed out, pressing a kiss to Jean’s cheek. If it was too intimate or too forward, the commotion of his impending orgasm made it very hard to give a fuck. The way Jean’s breath hitched and his solid build seemed to shiver a little at this crooning told him he was probably in the clear.
Jean suddenly pulled his face back from where he had been pressing a kiss to the underside of Harry’s jaw, frantically enough that Harry leant back himself to watch the inevitable unfold. Jean’s breath hitched again, this time due to the merciless persistency of his cold. His nostrils flared, damp and pink, threatening to overflow and make a mess of his moustache. Everything about his tortured pre-sneeze expression was a joy to behold. Harry could understand why he’d taken advantage of it many-a time before. His hand was a blur over his dick; he simply could not stop stroking and squeezing himself to the spectacle of it all. His brain conjured up the image of Kim, watching him watching Jean the way he’d done earlier that day, and he whimpered like a bitch in heat.
“KISHH’uuu!! IhGgKk’TSChhHU! ‘TShhiewww! Fucking h’hell…! hhAGK’TZShhiew!! ‘DZT’shieww!! Ihk’TSsschhttt!!”
Harry almost swooned as the sneezes caught his chin and the exposed column of his throat. He was hot, so fucking hot, even hotter with Jean’s too-warm body so close to his own. He could imagine the delicate aerosol of spray immediately sizzling and evaporating where it kissed his boiling skin.
“Ohh, fuck. Bless you, god, shit. M’gonna cum, gonna shoot…!”
“You make a mess of my uniform, you fucking die.”
Harry groaned through clenched teeth. If Jean didn’t want that, the last thing he should be doing was growling insults at Harry in that stupid, sexy voice of his. His cock throbbed, a decisive pre-orgasmic tremor of pleasure.
Jean seemed to realise any scolding or death-threats on his part were useless – he’d no doubt learned that, right on the brink of orgasm, a hoard of rabid zombies could be seconds away from attacking them both and Harrier Du Bois would be cumming his brains out even as the mauling commenced. Harry felt something press up against the head of his cock, moaning stupidly the second he realised it was the sodden tissue Jean had sneezed and snorted into. His body jerked with the first spasm of orgasm.
Through the roaring onset of his pleasure, he felt Jean wrap an arm round his waist whilst the other clamped the tissue to the spitting head of his cock. Both hands occupied, the younger man was pressing his face against the collar of his shirt, rubbing his nose frantically against him. Harry heard the deep groan he was making as the pleasure started to really crest, so fucking good, hours and hours of tension draining out of him with every blissful twitch of his tortured dick. When Jean’s breath started to hitch, he could feel the in and out of his expanding diaphragm, hear every minute snag in his breathing.
When Jean sneezed, an oh-so desperate triple, audibly and tangibly wet against his collar and bursting across his neck, he all but yelled as his orgasm sky-rocketed from pleasurable commotion to earth-shaking rapture.
“Hh’AHTTt’SHiewww!! KTSh’Schuu!! AEGKk’TSSHhh’uu!!”
His fingers spasmed uselessly against the copy machine, knees all but given out – Jean had had the right idea to hold him up. He was slumped against him, chest to chest, breathing as laboured as a bulldog as the final tremors of orgasm pulsed through him. He just leant there, propped up against Jean like a ragdoll and waiting for his body to cooperate. Jean was slowly rubbing his twitching, damp nose against his neck – it felt electric even in the aftermath of release.
“I never understood,” Jean started, speaking softly into the crook of his neck, “Why you ever felt the need to drink and do drugs the way you did when you can cum like that.”
Harry didn’t know what to say, his brain still a veritable puddle of goo. He’d like to know himself, but he was certain that this sudden resurgence of sex beginning in Martinaise with Kim had followed a relatively lengthy period of LDS – i.e. Limp Dick Syndrome. If he’d been having orgasms, they hadn’t been this fucking good. That he was certain he would have remembered.
“Hah,” He breathed out an awkward, monosyllabic laugh in lieu of anything even halfway intelligent. He smiled and panted, open-mouthed, at the sound of Jean’s responding scoff. He continued to lean there against the warm embrace of the younger man’s body until he felt him shifting in discomfort under his weight.
“Harry. Get off.”
He sighed, pushing himself off of Jean one-handed. He looked down between them, dick in his own hand whilst Jean’s patiently held the snot and cum-filled tissue in place as it threatened to overflow.
“Umm. Fuck. I think I have a handkerchief somewhere, hold on…” He started to root around in his blazer pockets, ignoring Jean’s glare as he unearthed one and started to wipe his hand and cock on the fabric.
“You had that the whole time and you let me use my last tissue to soak up your cum?” Jean rasped. Harry paused for a moment at how unwell he sounded.
“Sorry.” He flashed an apologetic grin at Jean, too blissed out to offer up any kind of excuse. He was getting sick of saying that he’d forgotten things, even if it was true.
“Whatever. Fuck.” Jean tossed the pulpy tissue into the nearby bin, following the trajectory with his eyes and looking pleased with himself when it landed on target.
Harry folded the handkerchief over, offering the clean surface of it to Jean, who took it wordlessly. He tucked his sensitive dick back into his pants, resisting the urge to start coaxing it back to full hardness as the sound of Jean’s lengthy, crackling nose blow forced a pathetic little twitch out of it in response.
Jean snuffled into the handkerchief, massaging his sore, red nostrils, seemingly perfectly content to stand there watching Harry. The older man noticed the prominent outline of the Satellite Officer’s erection, unattended to, straining against his trousers. He looked down at it then up at Jean again, wanting to broach the subject, but then paused, noticing the way Jean was frowning towards the general vicinity of his shoulder.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Jean swiped the handkerchief one last time under his nose before folding it over again and leaning forward.
“Hold still.”
Harry did so, obediently standing in place as Jean scrubbed at the collar of his shirt. He smiled like a dope as he realised his partner was attempting to clean away the prodigious results of that last triple.
“Messy boy.”
“Shut your damn mouth.”
“Is there even any clean fabric left on that handkerchief?”
“Shut up, Harry.”
Harry did. He felt like he was dangerously at risk of swaying in place, the endorphins and release after all the teasing and buildup leaving him far too loose and carefree. Jean pulled back at last, pocketing the handkerchief and rearranging Harry’s shirt collar and necktie. He looked up at Harry, catching him in the act of staring at his face, at the way his dark eyelashes fanned over his cheeks as he worked to smooth Harry out in an almost mechanical fashion. He flashed a little smirk his way, then yanked his tie just so.
“You’re lucky I didn’t use this hideous thing to clean up my mess.” He purred, the raspiness of his voice only adding to the allure. Harry swore under his breath.
“Are you trying to work me up for round two?” He whined. Jean dropped his tie.
“Absolutely the fuck not. Are you going to do your fucking job now?”
Harry sighed. What a fucking buzzkill.
“Yes. Yes I’ll do my job, you win. Although…” He leaned forward, pressing his mouth right up to Jean’s ear and murmuring in a low voice, “I’d like to do you first.”
Jean shivered and huffed a little laugh.
“That was fucking awful, oh my god.”
But he didn’t push him away. He wrapped his arms round Harry’s shoulders instead, humming in approval as Harry kissed his neck and trailed one broad hand down his torso before draping it across the bulge in his pants. He sighed, a gorgeous little exhalation of pleasure that sent shivers down Harry’s spine as he started to unzip his pants.
“Do you want this?” He asked even as his hand collected the moisture from Jean’s tip and spread it down his shaft, stroking him firmly.
“Hahh…Yeah. Mm’fucking tired though. So forgive me for – hah!” He cut himself off with his own frantic moaning. He didn’t bother to elaborate; Harry imagined he really was exhausted if his mouthy self was starting to economise his own verbosity.
What Jean lacked in words was more than made up with by the sweet, continuous stream of moans he let out next to Harry’s ear as he wrapped himself around him, resting his head on his shoulder as the older officer kissed and licked the shell of his ear, whispering words of encouragement and praise. His hand moved instinctually over Jean’s length – at least the easy muscle memory, built up over years of fucking, remained where his active memory did not. He clenched his teeth, pushing back the bitter thoughts and focusing on Jean’s gasps and sighs, the little “Ohh fuck”s and “Like that”s he would occasionally choke out as Harry stroked and teased. His own cock was hard again, but he ignored it, speeding up his pace as Jean’s hips started to buck arrhythmically.
He pulled back to watch Jean’s face as he fell to pieces – a different kind of vulnerability twisting his features into a mask of pleasure, though it wasn’t all that different from the irritated expression a pre-sneeze tickle would take. It was achingly familiar – a face he’d no doubt been made to make hundreds of times before at the mercy of Harry’s hands, his mouth, his cock. He’d watched Jean cum when the three of them had fucked, but this was different – just the two of them together in god knows how long, for the first time since the drugs and booze and misery made him an utterly reprehensible waste of skin. Watching those dark eyelashes flutter like that made his chest tight.
“Harrier, fuckkk…gonna cum-! Fuck!”
Jean started to convulse almost immediately, a shuddering gasp wrenching itself out of him as he trembled in Harry’s grip. Harry caught the spurts of semen with his free hand, a moment too late as the first spasm painted a white stripe over the yellow fabric of the thigh he’d pressed between Jean’s legs. He was too blissed out to care, kissing the corner of Jean’s open mouth as he continued to orgasm, mewling as the pleasure overpowered him. He ejaculated into the cage of Harry’s fingers a couple more times before he sagged in exhaustion, clinging to Harry and moaning, blushing face pressed firmly into the shoulder of his blazer. His voice broke on that last, whimpering vocalisation and Harry’s heart ached for him.
He stood patiently as Jean caught his breath and clung to him like a lifeline. One hand awkwardly closed around the dripping mess of Jean’s orgasm whilst the other loosely gripped his sticky, softening cock. He’d have to wait for Jean to unlock the door of the copy room first, holding both sticky hands upright until he located the nearest sink to wash them off. He supposed he could lick them clean – cum wasn’t the worst taste in the world – but the depravity of it would just make him horny all over again. He may as well just take his own cock out and use Jean’s cum as lube.
He was pulled out of this particular train of thought at the sensation of Jean trembling several times against him. The realisation that he was muffling a series of tiny little sneezes into near silence against his shoulder was doing absolutely nothing to keep the blood out of his insatiable cock. He closed his eyes and pictured his paperwork instead.
“Sorry…” Jean muttered, sniffling as he extracted his face from the makeshift covering.
“It’s okay.” Harry murmured, kissing his cheek. He frowned; Jean’s skin felt even warmer under his lips than before. “You’re burning up, Vic.”
Jean sighed.
“I figured as much.”
He unwrapped his hands from around Harry’s shoulders, looking queerly at him as if he didn’t understand why Harry was still stood there with a hand on his wilting cock until he realised the older man’s predicament.
“Oh, uhh…I’ll get you some paper towels. Wait here.”
Harry waited, eyes closed and replaying Jean’s sneezes and his orgasm over and over in his mind, opening them only once he felt the younger man gently wiping his hands clean. He smiled weakly at Jean, and Jean smiled back at him – shy, boyish. At odds with the lines of stress and exhaustion that marred his face, aging him beyond his years.
“I never meant to hurt you.” It was pouring out of him before he had a chance to think twice. Jean sighed, working on Harry’s other hand.
“Harry. You never meant to do any of the things you did, or so you keep telling me. I don’t need to hear this again. Not right now.”
His smile was replaced by the regular hard line of his everyday frown. Harry could have kicked himself.
“I’m sorry, Jean. I really am. I can’t understand why I did the things I did to you. Will you look at me?”
Jean hesitated, then peered up at him under eyelashes dampened by tears. Harry leaned forward and kissed each of his eyelids, lips coming away salty and damp.
“I never want to put you through any of that again. And I won’t.”
Jean’s lips quirked into a tiny, defeated smile – one that said he didn’t really trust him, but wanted to believe in him more than he ever had before. Harry considered it a success, and pressed their foreheads together for lack of anything better to do whilst his hands were still sticky, though notably less so than before. Jean uttered a soft little hum.
“You just jerked me off and this is somehow even gayer.”
Harry laughed.
“Fuck you, man. You’re ten times gayer than me.”
He kissed Jean for all of five seconds before the younger man couldn’t breathe, ducking into Harry’s shoulder and coughing all over his blazer. Harry winced – the dreamy haze of afterglow was beginning to fade and Jean did not sound good.
“You’re so getting this now. I hope you’re happy.” Jean muttered, wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand.
“If you think for one second I regret doing any of that, you are sorely mistaken.”
“Hm. Whatever you say, superstar.” Jean drawled, tossing the soiled paper towels into the bin alongside the shredded remains of tissue. “Now, move it. You need to wash your hands and do your fucking work.”
Harry sighed and followed him out of the room, casting one quick glance back over his shoulder to assess the damage. Nothing, thankfully. Just the spray on his shirt and the cum on his leg.
~~~~~
Jean had gone home shortly after their excursion in the copy room, leaving Harry unsupervised. He had done some paperwork, but he had also called Kim from his desk phone when he was sure the race had ended and relayed the entire turn of events to him. He’d also jerked himself off again reliving it all, moaning stupidly down the receiver as he came. He was happy to hear the Lieutenant’s own groan of completion, and he’d ended the call, promising to talk again tomorrow. And not a moment too soon – the bullpen was suddenly flooded by a stream of Junior patrol officers, returning amidst a blessed lull in criminal activity.
The next few days at work had been uneventful. Busy, but monotonous. He’d gone out to dinner with Kim, and they’d fucked. Jean had miraculously allowed himself a solitary sick day, surprising them all. He’d returned the following day, still sick but markedly improved. And that had been that.
Until Jean’s cold finally caught up to him and Harry became a sneezing, sniffling mess almost overnight. He’d dragged himself to work and had hardly had 15 minutes free of sneezing since he’d arrived. He’d figured that Jean’s general nasal sensitivities had been the main cause of the sheer number of times that he’d been sneezing with the same affliction, but no. It was easily one of the tickliest, sneeziest colds he had ever encountered – even worse than his cold in Martinaise.
He wanted to lie around and sneeze in bed, away from the scorn and watchful eyes of his fellow officers. But no dice – he had to work, he had to get through this fucking case and oh – oh god. He had to sneeze.
“IIIEEEEESSSSSHHHTTTTttt!!!”
The sneeze had been cunning and entirely malevolent, not giving him the dignity of even a short buildup before the tickle spiked sharply and it was bursting out of him. It hadn’t been messy, thank god, but it had been wet, and his paperwork had taken the brunt of it as the force propelled him over his desk. He groaned, rubbing the underside of his sore, tickly nostrils with the back of his hand. The files were dappled with moisture, the ink of his chicken scratch handwriting bleeding across the page where the worst of the damage had been done.
Nobody had been passing within range of the spray this time, at least. The surrounding area of Harry’s desk had now been dubbed the less than subtle title of ‘The Splash Zone’, following McClaine’s misfortune to be making his way across the room and in front of Harry the second a particularly violent sneeze worked its way out of him – and all over the younger officer’s blazer. Harry had apologised, but in all honesty didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him – or his ugly, checkered jacket.
He snuffled thickly, wiping his runny nose across any remaining dry skin to be found on his arm and wrist. This fucking sucked. He had known the risks. He had willingly exposed himself to Jean’s cold for the sake of a nut. He had nobody to blame but himself. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t feel utterly, miserably sorry for himself. He cradled his forehead in his hands, doing nothing for the preternatural nasal drainage but feeling too rotten to care.
A shuffling noise prompted him to glance towards the source of the disturbance. Kim was using a pen to nudge a tissue box, half-emptied by Harry this morning alone, closer to him and into his line of vision. Harry peered over in bemusement as Kim, mission accomplished, settled back down into his own chair, looking back at Harry with a mixture of exasperation and concern.
“You really should cover your mouth, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.”
Harry sighed, helping himself to a bundle of tissues.
“Sorry. I know. They’ve been sneaking up on me, is all.” He finished before blowing his nose with a resultant sound so thick and crackling that all other noise in the office seemed to dim in comparison.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve noticed.” Kim muttered, returning to his own work with a resigned sigh.
Harry knew he was referring to the way he had been sneezed on this morning, lying in bed as they shared a kiss. It had absolutely destroyed any chance of morning sex and earned Harry one of the iciest looks he had ever received from Kim. He counted himself lucky that Kim was not one to resort to physical violence when slighted, and that his blubbering, heartfelt apology was entirely successful in transforming Kim’s anger into a wilting, stony-faced acceptance.
“I really do have no means of avoiding this illness, now.”
For as bad as Harry had felt about the whole thing, he couldn’t deny that that admission of defeat and the mere thought of Kim catching his cold – this ridiculously sneezy cold – made his cock feel hard enough to cut glass.
A folder of documents was slapped down on his desk with a sudden, resounding slap, making Harry jump and swear behind the tissues. He peered up at Jean, looking almost radiant with healthiness compared the to the state he had been in several days prior.
“From the Boogie Street Stabbing case.” He smiled down at Harry, looking cocky and amused.
“You look like you’re feeling better.” Harry spat, dropping the soiled tissues on his desk and tossing the folder to the right with the rest of the ‘to be returned to’ pile. Jean smiled even wider.
“Apparently the best way to get over a cold is to give it to someone else.”
He directed his best shit-eating grin at Harry, eyes brighter and more focused than they had been in days.
“Wonderful.” Kim grumbled almost inaudibly to the side. He really wasn’t looking forward to getting sick, and Harry could sympathise. He made a mental note to spoil Kim rotten the second he started to feel under the weather. Jean didn’t seem to have heard him, and if he had, he was staunchly ignoring him and favouring bothering Harry the same way a bored child would tease a grumpy old dog.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than rub your health in my face?” Harry snuffled emphatically.
“You’ve rubbed much worse in mine. Consider this pay back.” He turned to leave, but at last minute turned around and deposited another folder – a thick, evil looking dossier on some mob boss or other – on Harry’s desk. “And this, too.”
Harry gaped at him in dismay.
“You’re cruel and unusual!” He groaned after a retreating Jean. His partner merely smirked and flipped him off. It was aggravating, but mischievous and about as light-hearted as Jean was currently capable of. Harry felt, through the weariness of his progressing sickness, a sense of relief. He flipped the bird right back at him, hoping he didn’t look too paradoxically gleeful as he did so.
Jean didn’t seem to notice this capriciousness, just patted his pocket to check for his carton of cigarettes and angled his head towards Judit.
“Jude – smoke break?”
“You shouldn’t be smoking anything – you should still be in bed.”
She followed him outside all the same, more to keep an eye on him than anything else, ready to provide medical attention should he suddenly cough up a lung. Harry envied her immune system – it seemed having kids constantly bringing bugs home was a truly effective form of inoculation to just about anything that was passed around the bullpen.
He watched them leave absentmindedly – before yet another cruel, bullying sneeze tore its way out of him.
“HAAAAEEISSSHHHhh!!...HUH! HAHHHGGGTTSSSSSHHh’uuu!!”
And it brought a friend along with it. A messy friend. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth several seconds too late, muttering an exhausted ‘fuck’ and snuffling into the cage of his fingers. Not getting any warning was incredibly inconvenient but the force of the sneezes, how they sent shivers of pleasure down his spine…that he could appreciate.
“Say it, don’t spray it, Mullen!”
That was Mack, shouting across the bullpen and earning a couple of sniggers in return. He was a meathead, and it was a juvenile, unoriginal and otherwise comically cliché comment. It wouldn’t have bothered Harry in the least had his sneezes been intentionally intrusive, but the fact that he was totally at their mercy brought a light flush of shame to his cheeks. He just wanted to go home and jerk off. He flipped the bird in Torson’s general direction and reached for another tissue.
Kim beat him to it, pressing a bundle of fresh tissues into his palm. Harry looked up and flashed him an appreciative glance, replacing his hand with the tissue. The Lieutenant stood next to his desk, a file underarm, ready to be submitted to Captain Pryce.
“Bless you.” He offered quietly. Harry tried as hard as he could not to visibly squirm. Kim smiled at him. “Was it w-worth...!”
Harry stared adoringly up at him, thanking all his lucky stars for Kim and his ridiculously suggestible nose. If he had a tail, it would be wagging back and forth in a veritable whirlwind of excitement, thumping against the back of his chair.
Kim’s nostrils flared violently and his gaze unfocused, even as he valiantly fought to prevent his eyes from closing. It’s too late, Harry thought. My paradigm is infallible. You’re going to sneeze. He was right, of course; within seconds, Kim’s expression was cinching tight and he was sneezing convulsively into a handful of tissues, plucked frantically from the box on Harry’s desk just in time.
“NGxtt! Hh’NGxt’tzschu!! Hh! hhdt’Tszchhuuu!! Fucking hell…”
In much the same way as Kim had been unable to fight the natural reflexes of his body, so too had Harry. His cock twitched in his pants, filling with blood in an instant. Even if Kim didn’t catch his cold, his own sneezing was an inevitability – which meant so too was Kim’s. Fuck, but he was going to have even more fun with this.
“Bless you!” He offered back, heart thumping so hard in his chest he could hear his pulse in his ears. “And honestly? I think it was worth every second.”
He laughed as Kim tossed his balled up tissues at him and strode irritably out of the room.
#this fic was fighting me but i NEEDED to finish it. just HAD to#i have like....1 1/2 finished K/im fics i didn't want to post before i finished this one as well lol#nametakenfic#d/isco e/lysium#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz fet#snz kink#snz fucker#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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Suggestible (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)
The first fic of a few I have for these two because I am deeep into this shit now lol. Ended up at 4K!
H/arry, whilst working on the murder case in M/artinaise and ever so slowly piecing his identity together, notices an interesting reaction in K/im to his budding cold. I guess the first part of a series that will become increasingly NSFW, but for now mostly just alluding to it!
Based on an insane little piece of dialogue in the game where K/im suggests that other people sneezing makes him sneeze
~~~~~~
Content:
Future/hinted M/M, cold sneezes, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a latent sneezing fetish that he doesn't remember having yet, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, slight elements of voyeurism but only because H/arry is a confused mess lmao
CW: lots of drug and alcohol mentions, lots of self-hatred
NB - I guess please don't read if you plan on playing the game and want to go in with no prior knowledge - it doesn't really have any plot heavy spoilers but takes place within the story
(also also - decided to write this in 2nd person narrative to somewhat resemble the style of game play - it's not perfect but it was fun to try haha)
Minors DNI please!
Lieutenant Kitsuragi trails behind you as you jog your way across the empty boardwalk and towards the fishing village. The air is piercing and bitterly cold – you are starting to feel the effects of it as the salty air whips against your face. It has been snowing on and off for hours, and you are woefully underdressed. This has not been a good day for you – few new leads, endless dead ends. And a hangover. The hangover to end all hangovers. Not even the frigid winter weather can distract you from the dull thud of a lingering headache, painful pulses beating in time with your heart. It feels as though your brain is too swollen – or your skull is too tight.
Suddenly, you feel it – the familiar, fluttering sensation of a building sneeze. You have been a little under the weather ever since you awoke in your hotel room several days earlier, having no recollection of who you are and woefully bereft of substances to abuse. You had put any subsequent discomfort down to just that – the miserable lack of alcohol, nicotine and narcotics in your system. This tickle, however – it is something all of its own. You stop dead in your tracks, practically skidding to a stop as it crests. You have no hope of holding back the encroaching sneeze. Your mouth hangs open, a great yawn of irritation, before – at last – release.
It comes out sounding more like a desperate shriek than anything else; a few startled seagulls scatter, flying away in a maelstrom of confusion and feathers. You didn’t mean to cause such a scene, but the cold air, the breeze, and now the beginning of a miserable cold – it all proves too much for you. You take in another shuddering gasp before you’ve even recovered from the previous explosion and do it all over again.
“HAAAEEEIISHHHHhhh!!!”
There are no seagulls left to scatter this time, but you hardly notice for the way this sneeze, even more violent than the one before it, sends you flying forward and staggering on your feet. You manage to catch yourself before you fall face down on the sandy ground, panting slightly in the aftermath. It practically tore itself out of you, leaving your throat more than a little hoarse. Perhaps a drink would be just the thing to remedy your misery…
You’re shaken out of your alcoholic deliberation by a familiar, soft voice. Lieutenant Kitsuragi is resting a gentle, gloved hand on your shoulder, hovering next to your crouched form. His voice is as placid as always, but you can’t help but notice a slight hint of concern. You right yourself immediately and snuffle at the mess that’s threatening to overflow from your nose, already a bright shade of red from years of alcohol abuse and the biting cold of the beach.
“Are you alright, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”
The Lieutenant notices the thickness of the sound, a barely perceptible look of displeasure passing over his face. You see him reach into his pockets and pull out a large handkerchief – the very same you have seen him use before to cover his face as you performed a field autopsy together. He proffers it to you and you hesitate for just a moment - then your nose starts to run into your moustache. This prompts you to take it from him and snuffle into it apologetically. You realise this pathetic sniffling will do nothing to stem the flow – you surrender and blow your nose with as much conviction as you possibly can. The sound of it is devastatingly loud, almost as disruptive as the sneezes preceding it. You glance at Kim sheepishly from behind the material. If it’s as disgusting to Lieutenant Kitsuragi as it sounded to you, he doesn’t so much as flinch.
When you’re finished, you offer the soiled fabric back to him with an outstretched hand. He looks at it with mild dismay.
“You keep that, officer. I carry a spare with me at all times.”
Stupid. That was stupid of you. Why would you hand him a snot rag? You dismiss the thought before the negativity drags you down further into the already miserable grips of your hangover. But for whatever reason, you keep note of this new information regarding the handkerchiefs. It’s not as though this is out of the ordinary for Kim. He’s so organised and focused – a great cop. Not like you. Of course he would carry a spare. Moving on, you ask the lieutenant for his opinion of what you ought to do next.
“Hm…We should return to the Whirling-In-Rags. Try Klaasje again and see if she’s ready to discuss the murder in more detail.”
It sounds like a perfect idea to you. The wind is fiercely cold and you never did get round to buying a windbreaker. Your hangover is making it impossible to tell if the major discomfort you’re feeling is from the alcohol dissipating within your husk of a body, or the virus threatening to take hold of your sinuses. Either way, getting out of the cold is imperative.
You approach the vicinity of the Whirling-In-Rags Hostel – at last. Your chest burns. Normally, a brisk jog is nothing to you – if anything, it energises your ailing body after a particularly lengthy binge. But today, you feel miserably worn out. You pause for a moment, look towards the Lieutenant, and attempt to speak. You fail, nothing but a series of wheezing gasps issuing from between your lips, followed by an increasingly hacking cough. You buckle over your knees and continue to hack like the washed-up middle-aged man you know you are. Kim places a hand on your back - he seems worried.
“This isn’t good. You’re unwell, detective. Perhaps you should rest a while in your room?”
Something tells you this isn’t a suggestion exclusively for your own benefit. A perfunctory glance tells you that Lieutenant Kitsuragi is tired, and as miserably cold as you. He wouldn’t mind a break inside a warm building, thawing out over a cup of coffee. Nevertheless, you feel disappointment blooming in your chest. As if you weren’t already a pathetic excuse of a policeman - missing memory, decked head to toe in questionable clothes and with a penchant for drug and drink on the clock – you’re now so weak you can’t even handle a mild case of rhinovirus. Pathetic.
You stand upright in an attempt to signal that you are and always have been a perfect beacon of health. You tell the Lieutenant that time is of the essence; you’ve been working on this case for days and have no time for further setbacks. He acknowledges this with a small nod; he seems to appreciate this professional, business-like approach to the matter. He doesn’t say anything more but merely walks beside you as you stride towards the Whirling-In-Rags.
You barely manage to take a few steps before the tickle is upon you again. You tense your jaw and attempt to quell the sensation by taking in shallow, measured breaths, but no dice. In seconds, it tears its way out of you as before, echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings. It is so loud that you wonder if the scabs protesting outside of the Union can hear it over the sounds of their own angry chants. Again, you stumble forward under the force of it, feeling light-headed.
The Lieutenant reaches out to grip your shoulder, steadying you just in time. You wait and sniffle miserably in preparation for the following sneeze, lingering in the depths of your sinuses, but it never comes. You straighten up, blinking tears of effort from your tired eyes, when you become aware of a certain sensation. Kim’s hand squeezes your shoulder with a sudden flex. Could this be a gesture of affection? Reassurance? This is not the Lieutenant’s regular style. He is far too cool for that kind of thing.
You look over your shoulder in curiosity as the Lieutenant continues his grip, despite your having collected yourself. You can see that behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes are unfocused and heavy-lidded. His mouth hangs slightly open, and he is holding a fist – expectantly? – before his face. The expression is…familiar. You’d seen it before, though not on Lieutenant Kitsuragi.
As you furrow your brow in deep consideration, reaching for an explanation that only just manages to elude you, slight movement from Kim pulls you out of your thoughts. You watch as his head tilts back, stays there for a just a moment before he’s jerking forward into his gloved fist, pressing it against his nose and mouth. His features contract severely, moulding his ordinarily placid face into a twisted, almost angry and unrecognisable countenance. You feel his fingers flex again. His entire body shudders, and as it does so, you hear him utter a tiny sound.
“-hHdt’!”
You blink, still not putting two and two together. Maybe this amnesia was worse than you had initially assumed it to be. Was he – seizing? No. Of course not. You continue to watch in confusion as he seems to uncrumple with a gentle exhalation. You think he might be done, but no. Just as quickly as one breath is exhaled, a replacement is sucked back in hurriedly. You watch as he repeats the action, ducking forward into his fist again, more forcefully this time. His shoulders jump with the effort and his hand squeezes substantially harder against you.
“h’Ngxt-!! hh…”
That strange sound again – this time followed by an uncharacteristically shaky exhale. A moment later the Lieutenant straightens up and assumes his regular composure, releasing your shoulder as if nothing just happened. If you hadn’t watched this series of events unfold right in front of you, you’re sure you would have missed it altogether. He blinks several times as if to clear away tears. Still you have no idea what the fuck just happened – any remnants of the pained expression that cinched his features tight has vanished, leaving him to look as calm and collected as before. You stare at him, eyes roving over his face. This intrusive observation gives you the last bit of information you need to understand. His nostrils flare delicately as he indulges in a sniffle, moisture gathering around the irritated rims and glittering ever so slightly in the afternoon sunlight.
Had those been…sneezes? Those tiny little swallows of air?! You feel a grin spread across your face, any discomfort of your own forgotten for the moment. You bless him enthusiastically. Ignoring the inkling that tells you not to tease or cajole him, you also comment on how adorable the Lieutenant’s sneezes are. Like a kitten. A badass cop kitten.
He thanks you somewhat reluctantly, blatantly ignoring the kitten comment. He clearly wants you to move on from him and focus again on the case. You continue to make your way towards Whirling-In-Rags, but don’t miss out of the corner of your eye the sight of the Lieutenant covertly pinching his nostrils shut, before pulling down towards his septum. He is wiping the resultant moisture of those sneezes away with his gloved fingers. This realisation makes your heartbeat spike for just a moment. You choose to ignore this.
You walk into the establishment – the increasingly familiar sounds and sights greet you as you pass through the door. The Hardie boys are in their booths, an unwelcome fixture. You glance sidelong at them – Titus glares daggers back at you. You think you should puff up your chest and stare him down in a battle of warring machismo, but at last minute think otherwise. It would do nothing to repair your already abysmal lack of authority if you sneezed at him mid stand-off. You glance away. He smirks, arms crossed firmly over his broad chest, clearly enjoying this silent display of dominance. You get an all-consuming urge to spin around and put him in his place – but you feel shitty. Much too shitty. It would probably end with his fist in your face.
You approach the staircase leading to the bedrooms when you feel that familiar, irritating tickle blossoming anew in your sinuses. Not again, not here! Not in a busy room full of so many people. You want to maintain your cool cop image – sneezing is not a cool thing to do. You briefly think to yourself that Kim is cool, even when he sneezes - but it is a foolish thought. You’re not him. You fight to suppress the gasp that fills your lungs, fumbling in your jacket pocket for the handkerchief the lieutenant had given you – but you’re too late. Two huge sneezes rocket out of you, sending veritable clouds of spray across the base of the staircase. They practically break the sound barrier, two near identical “IIIIEEEESHHHHhhtt!!!” screams of irritation. Kim doesn’t steady you this time – you reach out and do that yourself with the help of the banister.
Jeers erupt from the Hardie boys across the cafeteria floor – you only just manage to hold back an embarrassed blush from creeping over your weary face. You have finally managed to extract the handkerchief from your pocket. You decide a honking performance will do very little to remedy this utter humiliation, dabbing softly at your aching nose instead. You begin to climb the stairs; a sordid walk of shame.
“That’s just what this establishment needs, following the hanging, bloated corpse – a biohazardous drunk anointing his plague unto us all.”
That snark came from Garte – the bartender. No, the Cafeteria Manager.
“Just ignore him.” Kim mutters close to your ear. You proceed to flip the bird at Garte instead. As you make your way upstairs, you swear you can hear a tiny gasp from behind you. Without the sensation of a hand gripping your shoulder and signalling the completion of a sneeze, you have to strain your ears to even confirm they happen at all.
“’Ngxt’ch! h’ddt’! Hh’Ggkt!!”
Those are definitely sneezes. Slightly louder than before, enough that you can hear the Lieutenant’s own soft voice blending in with the strained sound of them. Your stomach is suddenly alive with butterflies. In your mind’s eye you can visualise the way his face crumples with each of them – nostrils flaring outwards as he valiantly bites down against them. You are sure if you try to do the same, your head will explode. Or at the very least, an aneurism is a surefire possibility. You shudder at the thought of it. You want to offer a blessing to the Lieutenant, but based on the previous reception it received, you decide against it. This could be the start of a beautiful partnership – Harry’n’Kim, Du Bois and Kitsuragi. Disco Cop and Cool Cop. You can always brainstorm on your trademark duo name at a later date. Either way, you decide to ignore the Lieutenant’s strangled outburst. A soft exhalation behind you signals that he is finished – for now.
You reach the top of the stairs. With great dismay, you realise that perhaps for the first time in your life, you are experiencing firsthand the effect of all those years of chain smoking. The wheezing gasps bend you over for a moment. Lieutenant Kitsuragi stands nearby, just short of nervously hovering, waiting for you to recover. You finally catch your breath and stride as confidently as you can towards Klaasje’s room. You extend a fist to knock on the door when you feel the soft touch of Kim’s hand on your arm, stopping you in your tracks. This has to be a new record. He has touched you on four separate occasions – all in a span of under thirty minutes.
“Perhaps you should take this opportunity to rest after all, detective.” Kim offers. You sense by the firmness of his voice that this is less of a gentle suggestion and more of a request. He smiles wryly.
“You are not very likely to get her to open up to you if you deafen her with your sneezing.”
Your stomach flips at hearing that word come out of his mouth. It is confusing but not entirely unpleasant. Whilst he doesn’t laugh, you can see the amusement held in the subtle quirking of his lips. You think for a moment that you should tell him your sneezes are the pinnacle of masculinity – ladies dig a huge, manly sneeze. You choose instead to sigh, practically deflating as any will to remain poised upright seeps out of you. You know he’s right. The filthy sheets of your bed beckon to you.
You agree with him and turn heel to your own room. He looks pleased – perhaps a little relieved. How disastrous did he think the interaction would have gone, had you proceeded? He turns to face you as you stand outside your respective doors.
“Don’t worry, detective. I will wake you up in a couple of hours, and we can resume our investigation. There is no point in making yourself ill.”
You nod. You are both about to enter your rooms when you feel it again. The tickle. It is persistent and increasingly difficult to control. You feel a gasp inflating your chest, helpless to do anything other than let the sensation overpower you. There is no time to even lift the handkerchief to your face. You do manage to turn away from the Lieutenant as the sneeze rips through you, baptising your own door with a trembling “aaAAAAEEEEGSHHHHhh!!!” A cloud of spray settles on the wood, droplets of spray shimmering under the harsh lighting. Gross.
“Bless you.”
A blessing. You feel relieved – and slightly giddy. Your stomach flips again. It is likely out of politeness, but the Lieutenant has at least not run for the hills in response to your disgusting display. You start to thank him when – oh, sweet confusion - he interrupts you with another sneeze of his own. He isn’t fast enough to bring a fist to his face this time. You can see every minute twitch of his facial muscles as he suppresses the sneeze through sheer willpower alone.
“Hh’Gnxt!! Huh’NGxtt!!”
The second sneeze follows immediately – his head dips twice in quick succession. That look of desperation suits him just fine, you think. You decide to abandon the thought as quickly as it forms. You are only partially successful in doing so. His hand reaches into the pocket of his trousers – he succeeds in removing the handkerchief in the duration of that second sneeze, you notice in great appreciation. You would never have managed to pull that off.
You watch as he raises the handkerchief before his face for a final sneeze. This one looks more irritable than the ones prior – the expression plastered on his face is openly more agonised than before. He pauses for what is likely only a second longer before the tickle reaches its apex, but that is more than enough time for another thought to cross your mind – one of an entirely salacious nature. You think that the face he is making resembles the sweet agony of another kind of release. You try to unthink it, but it’s too late – you’re absolutely, undeniably thinking it. The second passes. At last, the lieutenant smothers his final sneeze into the waiting folds of the handkerchief. It is considerably louder than before, even with the assistance of the fabric covering.
“hHh’nNGgxtt!!..chu…”
The soft vocal exclamation that rounds off the sneeze sounds weary, like it took a lot out of him. He sniffles briefly into the handkerchief, rubbing at his nose before tucking the cloth back into his pocket. Is it your imagination, or is said appendage starting to look a little reddened from the effort?
“Excuse me.” The Lieutenant mumbles, sounding uncomfortable. Embarrassed, perhaps?
You bless him before you remember to bite your tongue. Luckily, he accepts it with a soft “Thank you.” You watch as he removes his glasses and swipes at a stray tear rolling down his cheek. He replaces them just as quickly, giving you hardly any time to take in the sight of him without the thick frames. It is for a brief moment only, but the word ‘vulnerable’ comes to mind.
It dawns on you quite suddenly that he must be sneezing because you have infected him with your disgusting, no good germs. You ask him if this is the case, unable to hold back the shaking guilt as you voice your question-cum-self-abasement. He waves it off immediately.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, detective, I assure you. I’m fine.” He pauses for a moment, looking hesitant to say more. You say nothing. This awkward silence seems to prompt him to continue.
“Sometimes the power of suggestion is too much for me. When somebody sneezes in my vicinity, I find my body often wanting to do the same. And your sneezes are particularly…” He trails off for a moment, in want of an appropriate term.
Masculine? Sexy? Bad-ass? You go with the first one. He shakes his head gently.
“…Suggestible.” He finishes. You’re not quite sure you catch his drift, but you do recall that he had mentioned something like this before. ‘Dancing makes you dance like sneezing makes you sneeze’. He had said that, in the church – he had been enthusiastic to interject, and then immediately changed the subject. You had had no idea what he had meant at the time – not once had you ever heard anyone say anything even remotely similar. It had been easily forgotten. Until now.
You smirk. You hope it isn’t akin to ‘the expression’, but is happening nonetheless. You cannot help it. This. Is. Gold.
You manage to hold back from laughing, but what you cannot help is calling him adorable. For the second time that day.
“I’m a 43 year old RCM policeman. I am far from adorable, officer.” He states firmly, almost as if he is chiding you. You do not miss, however, the softness in his eyes and the momentary twitching of his lips into a tiny smile. You do laugh at that. Bad idea. The laugh quickly morphs into a painful, wrenching cough. Whatever light-hearted moment you’d been sharing, you have ruined it. Your throat burns with the effort. God, but you want a drink. And a smoke. Maybe some speed. You finish at last, wiping spittle from your lips with the back of your sleeve.
“Please rest, Harry. I will check up on you soon.”
He casts a final worried glance your way before nodding curtly. You watch as the door clicks shut behind him. After a moment, you make your way into your own room, not even bothering to kick off your shoes as you collapse onto the pile of twisted sheets. Far too tired to think about the past that eludes you, about the case, about any of it, your eyes start to slip shut.
But it is back. The tickle. You have no means of fighting it, and you’re not sure you want to. You sneeze, smothering it into your sheets at the last second.
“HHHRRMMMPPPSHHHh!!!”
You peer cautiously at the sheets. You have left a considerably large damp patch on the section that covered your mouth and nose. Gross – that should be your middle name. You feel disgusting, but before you can begin another spiral of self-deprecation the exhaustion overwhelms you entirely. A final thought passes through your mind as you surrender to it. Did the Lieutenant hear you?
Next door, settling into the chair at his desk, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi tenses at the sound of your sneeze. It was loud enough to be heard not only the next room over – indeed, anyone on the second floor may have been startled by it. His breath hitches, once, twice, before he is tipping forward into his gloved hands, steepled around his face. Depleted of energy from the prior onslaughts, he is unable to hold them back at all.
“-hh! Hck’tshuu! Hupt’Tshhht!! ‘TSCHH’uu!! hm...”
He glances in unmasked irritation at the damp speckling of moisture now adorning the palms of his gloves.
“Merde!” He grumbles under his breath. The Lieutenant pulls the gloves from his hands, pausing to scrub at his itchy nostrils with his knuckles for one indulgent moment, before resuming the paperwork he had failed to complete the night before. He hopes, for both your own sake and his, that once he wakes you your sneezing spell will have passed – due to a temporary chill and nothing more. Neither of you have the time for this absurdity. He sniffles once more and begins to write.
#nametakenfic#d/isco e/lysium#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz fet#snz kink#snz fucker#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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Mistletoe Mishap (S/teddie)
Ignore the cheesy title and enjoy 4.4k of mutual fetish AU S/teddie smut lol
S/teve and E/ddie are decorating the H/arrington household in preparation for a Christmas party when E/ddie has a ~mysterious~ allergy attack
~~~~~~
Content:
M/M, established relationship (four years deep), both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, allergy sneezing, handjobs, spray, a little tiny mention of mess, descriptions of a pretty intense allergic reaction, sneezing on someone's face, sneezing on someone's neck, teasing, nose rubbing
CW: graphic descriptions of cum, E/ddie is a particularly demanding tease in this one
~~~~~~
NSFW, minors please DNI!
“You know, I don’t understand why they don’t sell the place. Or just give it to you.” Eddie stated, pushing the front door to the Harrington residence closed behind him. “It’s not like they’re ever here. Seems like a waste of prime real estate.”
Steve shrugged, setting the last of the cardboard boxes they’d brought with them on the floor and crouching down over it.
“I’ve long given up on trying to understand my parents, Eds. Doesn’t matter, right? Comes in handy at times like this.”
He ripped the tape off the box and opened it wide, smiling as Eddie’s curls brushed the side of his face, the older man leaning precariously over his shoulder.
“You didn’t need to buy so many new decorations, hon. It’s just the kids. They don’t care.”
“Hmm.” Steve ran his hand over the assortment of tinsel, baubles and other Christmassy items, pleased to see they were completely intact even after he and Eddie had dropped this box in the parking lot earlier.
“Maybe they don’t care, but I do. It’s their last Christmas in high school, Munson. I want it to be nice for them. It might even be the last Christmas all of them spend together. They’ll go to college – they’re smart kids – and they might not even come back for the holidays.”
Even as he said it, Steve’s heart gave an unpleasant little flutter of what he supposed was preemptive grief. After everything they’d been through in this insane town – all the life and death situations they’d managed to pull through - these kids meant the world to him. They were eighteen years old – well, some of them – and he could hardly believe how much they’d grown before his eyes. He had been content living with Eddie in their small apartment and going about their everyday life in Hawkins, but change was in the air. Not only were the kids about 6 or so months away from graduation, he and Eddie had been discussing their own potential move. It should be exciting, and for the most part it was, but he was also a little terrified.
He felt Eddie’s hand squeezing his shoulder gently, turned his head to look up into his boyfriend’s face. He knew that look well, one of total fondness and adoration, and found himself smiling back up at him.
“Okay, Stevie. Let’s make it extra pretty for ‘em, huh?” He straightened up and made his way round Steve to open another box. “All I meant was they’ll be happy no matter what you do. The fuckers love you, man.”
Steve smiled again, feeling a little too sensitive and knowing if he said anything at all his voice would be thick with emotion. He nodded and took a second for the lump in his throat to recede before starting up into a series of instructions for their decoration game plan.
~~~~~~
“Okay.” Steve stood with his hands on his hips, feeling exhilarated as he glanced round at their handiwork. Despite how long it had taken them - mostly because of Eddie and his absolute inability to focus on the task at hand without either teasing Steve, fighting Steve or holding various decorations in front of his crotch and pretending they were his penis - it had turned out just great. In Steve’s opinion, it had been worth breaking the bank a little for the pomp and circumstance of it all.
“Looks great, baby.” He was grinning, the satisfaction of a job well done leaving him proud and happy.
“Fucking finally.” Eddie grumbled from his position on the hallway carpet, sprawled out on his back like a recalcitrant starfish.
Steve smirked at him before climbing on top of him and straddling his waist, planting his hands at the side of the older man’s head, careful to avoid the trailing brown curls that spread haphazardly around them.
“Someone’s in a good mood.” Eddie deadpanned, but Steve felt him reach up to grip his waist gently.
“I am.” Steve admitted before pressing several small kisses over Eddie’s cheeks, eyebrows, nose. He was delighted to hear his boyfriend giggle sweetly in response. It was so fucking cute that Steve had to kiss him immediately, and Eddie, a sucker for him as always, elevated the kiss from soft and tender to deep and nasty in mere seconds.
After several more minutes of moaning and groping on the hallway floor, Steve figured they may as well be celebrating their successful decoration efforts in the comfort of an actual bed. He pulled back from the kiss, laughing as Eddie followed him as far as he could from his prone position before flopping back down.
“You better tell me the only reason you’re stopping is to haul my ass up to your bedroom, pretty boy.” Breathless and giddy, he massaged Steve’s ass with his wandering hands.
“Read my mind, baby. Let’s go.” Steve stood and pulled Eddie up alongside him with a strong arm. The metalhead flounced past him, already halfway up the stairs when Steve noticed one final box, unopened and forgotten towards the end of the hall. They must have missed that one in the maelstrom of hanging and pinning and arranging that had followed.
“Eddie, wait.” Steve started, pacing towards the box.
“What, what now?” Eddie groaned, turning around on the steps to peer down at Steve. His erection continued to stubbornly strain against the fabric of his worn black jeans.
“We missed a box.” Steve said, picked it up when he found it to be somewhat lighter than the others, and held it up towards Eddie.
“Are you serious, Steve?? It’s been hours, we’ve already worked like Santa’s god damn elves on cocaine and the house looks like Christmas vomited all over it – just put the damn thing down and let me suck your cock already!”
Steve, frankly, found the whole diatribe incredibly amusing – the only thing more amusing than Eddie’s rant was the look of utter indignation on his face when Steve outright laughed at him.
“Ooh, you piss me off.” Eddie stomped his way down the stairs, strode up to his still-laughing boyfriend and yanked the box from his hands. “If we finish with this last little box, can we go upstairs and fuck each other’s brains out for the remainder of this fine December evening?”
“Sure.” Steve smirked, enjoying his boyfriend’s sexual frustration and trademark impatience immensely.
With that confirmed, Eddie redoubled his efforts, practically tearing at the box as he crouched haphazardly beside it. Ripping it open, he paused for a second, tilting his head like a curious puppy as he took in the contents.
“Leaves…?”
Steve’s brows furrowed; he leaned forward, following his boyfriend’s gaze downwards. Suddenly, it clicked.
“Mistletoe.” He snapped a forefinger and thumb together. “Sorry hon, I totally forgot. Won’t take us long to hang a couple of these up.”
“Huh. Do you really need this much of it for the children, though? Are we advocating for teen pregnancy in this household?” Eddie joked, dangling a sprig dramatically over the two of them. Steve rolled his eyes.
“Please. Being members of Hellfire is contraception enough.”
“Wow. Fuck you, I guess?”
Steve chuckled, snatched the sprig from Eddie and held it above them as the metalhead had just moments before. He slipped one strong arm around Eddie’s slim waist and pulled him closer, until their fronts were flush.
“Sorry, baby. Kiss and make up?”
Any faux offense on Eddie’s part was quickly diminished as the older man smiled and leaned into Steve’s embrace. All too quickly his hands were roaming over Steve’s body, squeezing his ass, dragging his nails down Steve’s back hard enough he could feel it through the cotton of his polo shirt. They both moaned into the kiss, all tongues and heavy breathing, and for a moment Steve lost himself in it.
It didn’t last long, however. Steve felt his boyfriend tense, standing rigid in his embrace. He barely had a second of recognition at the sharp inhale Eddie took in through his nose before the metalhead was pulling away just a moment too late, catching Steve’s jaw with the light aerosol of his first sneeze. The older man choked out a breathy apology before sucking in another inhale and proceeding to sneeze fittishly against the column of Steve’s throat, trembling and gripping the fabric of his shirt as though holding on for dear life.
“Hh-HH’ENGXT’Tchieww!! NDd’tshieww!! ‘Tshieww!! Ihkg’tchieww!! HAH!! DDZZSCH’Uuuu!! Ohh…”
Steve felt his entire body blooming with heat at the arousal that pulsed through him. He never tired of this, felt just as overwhelmed and ruined by every sneeze that graced his heated skin as he ever had. He held Eddie upright as he shuddered, stroking one broad hand down the expanse of his back as best he could whilst still clutching the mistletoe between thumb and forefinger. He kissed into Eddie’s curls and willed his hips not to buck against the thigh his boyfriend had slid between his own.
“God bless you, sweetheart.”
Eddie pulled back, sniffly and watery-eyed, offering Steve a sheepish, crooked smile as he shook a few stray hairs back from his face.
“Whew, sorry, Stevie. That came out of nowhere.” He snuffled a little louder, and Steve was transfixed at the wonderful flare of those oh-so expressive nostrils as he did so. Eddie swiped gently at the dampened skin of Steve’s throat with the cuff of one long sleeve. “Had a tickle.”
Steve moaned softly, smiled at the pleased grin that whimper of arousal pulled out of Eddie.
“You okay, Eds?” He asked, still stroking Eddie’s back softly.
“I’m just dandy, honey. Great, actually. That felt fucking incredible.” He punctuated the statement with another sniffle, even more liquid sounding than the others, and pressed a soft kiss against the side of Steve’s mouth.
Whether he was embellishing the experience for Steve’s benefit or whether those sneezes really had gotten him worked up – either way, Steve could feel the older man’s erection, harder than before and digging into his hip. He groaned, gripping Eddie’s shoulder with one hand and using the other to cup his ass, forcing their hips together and grinding against Eddie’s thigh, inviting his boyfriend to do the same.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He muttered against Eddie’s plush lips before capturing them in another intense kiss.
It was much of the same for a bit – grinding and gasping and moaning and kissing, gripping each other with desperate, wandering hands. Steve replayed the sound of every tickly little sneeze Eddie had graced him with minutes earlier, the sensation of the spray as it arced across his neck. He hadn’t been exaggerating; he really did feel like he was going to die when they worked together like this, like the emotions and the sensations were simply too much for his body to handle and he would shatter into a million pieces. He loved every second of it.
Eddie tensed again, just as before, but this time Steve was ready for it. He groaned into his boyfriend’s mouth, rolled his hips against him, squeezed his ass for all he was worth. The metalhead pulled back with one final frantic breath sucked in through twitching, flaring nostrils, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on Steve’s back, and sneezed violently between them.
“H’ohh goddDDDISSSSHH’IEwww!! hHDT’TISShhuuu!! IGXShhh!! HIG’TCHIeww!! Hh-HH-!”
He seemed to pause for a moment, and Steve would have perhaps mistaken this for the end of his fit had he not the perfect view of his crumpled expression – eyes overflowing with irritated tears, nostrils flared to capacity, tongue pressing firmly against his bottom lip as his jaw hung open. He was a picturesque portrait of ticklish misery, and Steve wanted a better view. He released his grip on Eddie’s ass to instead replace that hand in a firm but gentle grip on the older man’s chin, tenderly tilting back his head from his slightly ducked position so that he was facing Steve directly. Eddie didn’t protest, allowed Steve to do as he would, seemingly more preoccupied with allowing the tickle to crest inside his aggravated nose. It looked like such a tease; the naked look of desperation on his face was driving Steve wild.
What was maybe a few seconds felt like an eternity as Steve wished he could freeze them in this painfully erotic moment forever – Eddie, held right on the precipice of a sneeze and Steve ready and waiting to receive it. One final, dramatic tick of his nostrils, however, and Eddie finally reached his peak, rocking forward against Steve as it overpowered him.
“AEGGKKk’KSHIEWWwww!! eEHDT’TCHIewww!! HEH’TCHIEWWWw!! ‘TSCHH’Iieww! Hh…”
Steve’s eyes closed reflexively with every sneeze that burst across his face, cock throbbing and pulsing in his jeans as he took in the rich vocal sound of them, the desperate, almost pained expression on his boyfriend’s face, the feeling of his trembling against him. Yeah, he was never, ever getting tired of this.
“Hholy shit…” Eddie muttered, sounding utterly drained. Steve didn’t blame him; the sneezes, whilst not as large as his own, had sounded incredibly intense. Eddie sagged weakly against him, the weight of his head heavy against Steve’s hand. The younger man released his chin from the grip and swiped a thumb under his boyfriend’s dripping nose, finally pinching a little string of mess away from his septum before wiping it subtly away on his own jean-clad thigh. With slightly less subtlety he raised the collar of his shirt to quickly wipe his face clean.
“Bless you, baby. My god.” Steve laughed breathily, elated and giddy and absolutely overflowing with adoration. “You doing okay? Those were some serious sneezes.”
“Yeah. God. They really didn’t fuck around, huh?” Eddie sniffled, releasing the death grip he was maintaining on the back of Steve’s shirt to lift a crooked finger to rub at his tickly nostrils, quickly switching to all but mashing his nose back and forth with his palm when the gentle rubbing did nothing to alleviate the itch. He used the knuckle of the same hand to scrub at his eyes, which Steve noticed were looking suddenly all too pink. He frowned a little, pulling Eddie’s hand away by the wrist, ignoring the gentle whine of protest.
“Itches.” Eddie muttered, blinking as another pair of tears rolled down his cheeks.
“I know. I think you’re having an allergic reaction, Munson. And a fast one, at that.”
“Yeah, I am. Shit.” He sniffled again, twitching his pink nostrils, and Steve had to force himself to focus on the matter at hand and not the fact that he could feel his heartbeat in his dick.
“Any idea what might have triggered it? You poor thing���” Steve murmured, hoping he sounded as empathetic as he was ragingly horny.
“Ugh. Maybe dust from the carpet? I was down there for a little while, I guess.”
Steve frowned.
“But you’re not normally this irritated that fast? Unless it’s, like, a lot of dust?”
Eddie shrugged, squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his nose frantically again, a series of wet clicking noises sounding out as he did so.
“I don’t know, man. Fuck, I’m so itchy,” He whined, using the heel of his palm to press up against a leaky eye, ignoring Steve’s attempts to swat it away.
Steve glanced around the room, looking for anything that might be the culprit. No flowers that weren’t fake, no cleaning products left out in the open; the house was maybe a little dusty, granted it had been unoccupied for months at this point, but his parents still paid for a maid to semi-regularly come and maintain it, so it wouldn’t be enough to make Eddie this allergic. At a loss, he turned his head back to his boyfriend and opened his mouth to offer some sympathetic encouragement or other before he froze in his tracks.
He was resting one hand on Eddie’s shoulder – the same hand that still clutched a sprig of fresh mistletoe.
“Hey, Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever been around mistletoe before?”
“Sure? Kids used to hang that shit all over school around Christmas.”
“But that stuff was plastic, no?”
“Well, yeah, but…?”
“Eddie.”
“Mm?”
“I think you’re allergic to mistletoe. Real mistletoe.”
“…Oh. Ohhhh.” Recognition dawned on Eddie’s face, and Steve nodded back at him as they locked eyes.
“You only started to sneeze once we opened that box. I got it at the store when you were grabbing an extra box of fairy lights for me.”
“Well, shit.” Eddie giggled, even as mashed his nose against his palm again. Steve lowered the hand holding the sprig to his side.
“I’m sorry.” He offered, really meaning it and feeling horribly guilty for taking such enjoyment in what looked like a pretty intense allergic reaction.
“C’mon, Stevie, no sorries. We don’t even know it’s that stuff for sure – s’probably still just the dust. Delayed reaction, or something.”
Steve quirked an eyebrow at that. Telling himself it was merely a matter of necessary experimentation and not because his cock was drooling in his pants at the thought of a repeat performance, he lifted the sprig up and held it directly under his boyfriend’s nose. Despite so confidently reassuring Steve the mistletoe was of no concern, the metalhead jerked his head back slightly at the sudden proximity of the offending plant.
“Sorry, sorry – just, sniff this for me? I want to be sure.” Steve tried gently, handling his boyfriend as one might attempt to soothe a skittish horse.
Eddie, stubborn as ever, rolled his eyes.
“I’m telling you, Harrington, even if it made me sneeze a little, that’s hardly a big deal for yours truly. It’ll be the dust that’s gotten me like this.”
He sniffed obediently all the same. His reaction was almost instantaneous and explosive as could be, actually causing Steve to jump a little as he sneezed violently all over the sprig, Steve’s hand and even dousing his forearm in a sudden cloud of spray.
“EESHHHHhhh’uuu!!”
Steve dropped the sprig immediately, groaning as his cock jumped in his pants at the throaty sound of his boyfriend’s desperate release.
“Bless you, you stubborn bastard. Oh, my poor allergic baby.” He crooned, kissing at another stray tear that rolled down Eddie’s cheek and wrapping his arms around him in support as the metalhead built up to yet another fit. The older man’s chest jumped rhythmically against Steve’s own, and with shaking arms he wrapped himself around Steve in return, resting his chin over his shoulder and slotting his thigh even more securely between Steve’s, as if anchoring himself in position to allow for the sneezes to overpower him.
“Fuck, Mm’gonna-!”
“It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.”
Steve had barely finished speaking by the time Eddie launched into his fit, notably stronger than before after getting a direct noseful of the offending allergen. Steve held him close, keeping the pair of them upright as his boyfriend gasped and rocked and strained. He bit his lip, willing himself not to go off in his pants as each sneeze seemed to travel though the both of them.
“HeHH-TSSSCH-TSSSSCH-‘DTTSZ’SHieww!! hHH-!! ‘GTSCH’IEWW!! EhHDT’TSHHIEwww!! ENGXT’TCHuuu!! Hh, HH!! IIIESHHHH’IEWW!!! Hohh…”
Steve listened to Eddie snuffle as he hung limply in his embrace, stroking his back reassuringly and whispering sweet litanies of praise and blessings into his boyfriend’s ear.
“Bless you, honey. You did so good, really got that tickle out of your poor little nose.”
“Mmff…” Eddie responded, dragging his drippy, twitching nostrils over the junction where Steve’s neck met his shoulder and rubbing them into his skin. Steve shivered at the wet sensation, continuing to support his boyfriend’s weight whilst holding himself rigid, forcing himself not to rut his cock against Eddie’s thigh and orgasm when he should be offering comfort. He swallowed and breathed out a shaky little laugh.
“Thought I knew everything about you at this point, but I guess not.”
He felt Eddie kiss him softly through the fabric of his shirt.
“Doesn’t count if I didn’t know it either.” The metalhead muttered, sounding so incredibly wiped out Steve’s chest blossomed with affection. “Not exactly off brand for me, this shocking revelation.”
Steve chuckled softly, the sound quickly morphing into a strangled groan as Eddie suddenly muffled a string of poorly suppressed sneezes into his shoulder, shaking the both of them again.
“HhNGGXT’Tsziew!! MMP’TChhh!! Ehh’NGXT!! NGK’Tieww!!”
“Fuck, Eddie, bless you.” Steve squirmed in place, squeezing his thighs tight around Eddie’s.
Eddie sighed, an almost orgasmic exhalation of air that made Steve shudder again, before lifting his head and pulling back, allowing Steve get a thorough look at his face. The younger man’s heart (and cock) throbbed to see just how much those sneezes had overpowered his boyfriend. Eddie’s eyes were bloodshot and leaking an almost continuous stream of allergic tears; his nose was reddened and slightly swollen; his full lips pink and moist with the aftermath of the intense sneezing he’d been subjected to. But he was smiling, and Steve hadn’t been with him for going on four years now to not recognise the heated look of arousal plastered onto his face. As if to reinforce his deductions, Eddie ground his own cock, almost as hard as Steve’s, against the younger man’s thigh.
“Thank you, angel. God, that felt so good. Did you like it?” He murmured, leaning forward to rub his nose against Steve’s. The younger man could feel how damp those flaring nostrils were against his own, so warm and soft. He answered with a moan in lieu of anything even remotely intelligent. Eddie seemed happy either way.
“Bless me.” He rubbed his nose against Steve’s just a little harder. “My nose is so tickly.”
“Eddie-!” Steve moaned, feeling completely dumbstruck as his boyfriend nuzzled against him, voice low and seductive, each word elevating him closer and closer to orgasm. He wanted to throw Eddie on the ground and fuck him stupid, but he also didn’t want this wonderful teasing to stop.
Suddenly, he felt the distinct sensation of his zipper being pulled down, and gasped at the feeling of Eddie’s calloused fingers pulling his cock out of his underwear. It pulsed and drooled a new stream of pre-cum all over that warm, familiar grip.
“You want this, baby?” Eddie half-whispered against his lips.
“W-we should…go upstairs, fuckk…” Steve managed, even as his eyes rolled shut at the minute movement of Eddie gently rolling the foreskin back from his cock head. “I can…hold back…!”
“But I want you here, Stevie. And you? Holding back now that I’ve got my hand on your cock? That is a fucking lie.” Eddie grinned, offering a small closed-mouth laugh as Steve moaned against his lips again.
“Fine,” Steve gasped as Eddie’s hand, slick with the result of his own wetness, started to pull at him. “But I can’t get jizz on this carpet. Gonna have to cum all over you instead.”
It was Eddie’s turn to moan, and Steve’s eyes squeezed shut at the sound of it, so ragged and breathless he almost came on the spot. He looked down between them as his boyfriend used his free hand to bundle up the hem of his Motorhead shirt and hold it to the tip of his cock.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Harrington.” Eddie nipped at his lips. “All ready for you.”
Steve whimpered, fucking into Eddie’s grip as the stroking resumed, so good, so good, and then Eddie was sniffling into his ear and he was coming in waves, the pleasure spreading out from his pulsing cock right down to his toes, curling them in his sneakers. It was quick and dirty and felt fucking amazing – Eddie jerked him throughout as Steve gripped his shoulders to stay upright, moaning at last once his voice returned to him.
“God,” he sighed with a definitive jerk of his hips into the makeshift cover Eddie held patiently against his spitting cock. He watched as his boyfriend pulled back, the two of them taking in the impressive deluge of cum that stained the black fabric before Eddie used a clean section of shirt to lovingly wipe his cock head clean, giving it a gentle squeeze as he went.
“Feeling better, big boy?” Eddie kissed his cheek, gently moving Steve’s hands off his shoulders once it seemed he could stand on his own. He used his newfound freedom to pull the ruined shirt over his head, careful not to get any mess on himself. He scrubbed a cum-free section over his dripping face for a moment before balling it up and dropping it gently on the floor with a dorky, quiet ‘Sorry, Lemmy.’
“Yeah. Fuckkkk.” Steve breathed out, pulling Eddie into him in a crushing hug, breathing in the smell of his shampoo and running his hands up the bare skin of his back. Eddie patted the small of his back softly in return.
“Love the way you cum. So sexy.” He sighed next to Steve’s ear. Steve could still feel Eddie’s own erection, harder than ever, pressing into his hip. He danced his fingers up Eddie’s spine, humming in satisfaction as he felt his boyfriend shiver and break out in a trail of sensitive goosebumps at the touch.
“Let’s go upstairs now.” He pulled back and reached for Eddie’s hand, feeling his boyfriend grip him back immediately. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you scream.”
“You know that’s all I ever want to hear.” Eddie flashed him a crooked smile, going easily as Steve started to pull him upstairs. Steve felt him hesitate, however, after just a few steps.
“What about the mistletoe, Stevie? Don’t you want to hang it up?”
Steve shook his head, all but yanked his giggling boyfriend a step higher.
“Can’t put that shit up now, and you know it. Cheeky bastard.”
“One second.” Eddie shook his hand free of Steve’s and ran down the stairs towards the box of mistletoe, rummaging for a second with his head angled as far away from the box as possible before extracting a sprig and holding it out in the air beside him.
“Eddie-“ Steve started as his boyfriend bolted up the stairs towards him, keeping the mistletoe at arm’s length.
“C’mon, Stevie, it’s just a little one. We can leave it next to the bed, I promise I’ll be fine.”
Steve must have looked visibly worried, because Eddie pouted up at him and tilted his head coquettishly.
“Where’s your Christmas cheer?” He simpered.
Steve couldn’t deny the prospect was incredibly tempting. One glance at Eddie’s huge doe eyes as they pleaded mischievously with him was all he needed for any further protests to die in his throat.
“Fine. But you’re taking an antihistamine first, you demon.”
Eddie smirked at him, all lidded eyes and long eyelashes.
“Yes, sir!”
+++++
((Just a few notes - I'm pretty sure mistletoe allergies aren't a thing but I don't care because it's hot lol.
Also for anyone who is even a little invested in this AU, I hope it shows that Steve is more comfortable discussing fetish related things this far into their relationship compared to earlier on when he would stutter over everything!))
#s/tranger t/hings#nametakenfic#sneeze fic#snz fucker#snz kink#sneeze kink#snz fet#sneeze fucker#snzblr
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Warm Night In for Steddie?
So I was aiming for about 3k but here's 4.7k of these two lol
Mutual fetish AU one shot! S/teve and E/ddie finally get to spend a night together after a couple of weeks of not seeing each other - E/ddie is a little chilly from the trip to S/teve's house. Fun ensues
This did end up being more NSFW than expected but hey...it's me
~~~~~~
Content:
M/M, established relationship (maybe about 8 or so months in?), both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, sneezing from cold weather, sneezing from wine, sneezing from an external tickle, exhibitionism, teasing, a little bit of dirty talk, lots of cuddling and care-taking, descriptions of spray, (Got both of them sneezing because. um. tee hee <3)
CW: Steve is a little shy but nothing serious
NSFW, minors dni etc etc etc
Steve tried his best not to sprint to the door after hearing the doorbell ring – emphasis on ‘tried’. He’d been looking forward to Friday evening all week. It had been nearly impossible to see Eddie the past couple of weeks, conflicting schedules be damned. After a great deal of swapping shifts at their respective work places, reorganising some prior arrangements, and with the guidance of some invisible, benevolent entity, or positive karmic energy – whatever you wanted to call it – they’d managed Friday.
Heart fluttering in his chest, Steve yanked the door open and couldn’t help beaming the second he made eye contact with Eddie.
“Hey.” His smile practically splitting his face, he pulled his boyfriend through the door frame and into his arms.
“Hey, yourself.” He heard Eddie murmur into his ear, hugging him just as fiercely as he did him.
Eddie stepped back for a moment to turn and pull the door closed behind them.
“Sorry. S’cold.” He smiled, looking absolutely adorable to Steve with his knitted beanie and cute pink nose, before leaning back into Steve’s embrace, eventually seeking out his lips with his own.
They kissed each other for several long, luxurious moments, losing themselves in it until neither of them could breathe and they had to pull apart, laughing softly. Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s, nuzzling their noses together, and the younger man seemed to notice for the first time just how cold the metalhead was.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Harrington.” Eddie kissed along the side of his mouth. It was equally as suave as it was antiquated, and the adoration Steve felt for him in that moment rendered him incapable of little more than blushing and grinning like a damned fool.
“Flatterer.”
Steve reached up to thread his fingers through Eddie’s hair when the sound of an egg timer rang out, making them both jump.
“Oh, shit, the food – come to the kitchen?” Steve started, already striding away.
“Y-yeah, I’m comihhng – hh! HG’Tchiew!! HN’ngxt’chiew! EhGxt’tchiew! Whoo…”
If Steve’s stomach had been a veritable pit of butterflies before, it was practically soaring in response to the desperate triple of hastily stifled sneezes that echoed out in the high-ceilinged hallway.
“Bless you, Eds – you okay?” He called out over his shoulder, successfully keeping his voice steady as he tended to the pot on the stove.
“Yeah, I’m fine, hon. Temperature change. I’m adjusting.” He heard Eddie respond, heard the thump of his boots as he dumped them in the hall and the rustle of his thick puffer jacket as he tossed it over the banister. He adjusted the temperature of the pots towards the back of the stove, listening as Eddie padded in behind him. The metalhead wrapped his arms around him from behind and buried his face into his neck, eliciting a squeal of protest that just made Eddie giggle and squeeze him harder.
“Your nose is freezing, dude!”
“All the more reason for me to hold you. Gimme some of that body heat, Stevie.” He punctuated his sentence with a distinctly wet sounding sniffle and Steve shivered in his arms. It was insane how reactive he was to even to the suggestion of any nasal irritation from his boyfriend – insane how responsive his entire body was to even the slightest touch from him at all.
Eddie must have felt him tremble – of course he did, cuddled right up against him – but he didn’t address it. Just pressed a kiss against the column of Steve’s throat one more time before pulling back and standing beside him, hip to hip.
“Smells good.” He leaned over the pots to peer inside. Steve managed to stop himself from asking how Eddie could possibly tell with such a stuffy nose, taking in the slight glitter of transparent mess starting to roll down his upper lip, no doubt urged along by the steam. Eddie seemed to take note of this himself and reached to tear off a couple of squares from the paper towel rack beside them, blowing his nose softly.
“God, sorry.” He muttered as he wiped his nostrils clean before tossing the damp paper into the trash. “Think my radiator’s dying, the van was freezing. My hands are like icicles.” Eddie flexed his fingers a few times for emphasis, and Steve tutted in concern.
“I think you made it just in time – the radio said snow.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised – guess we’re overdue, shit. At least almost everything that makes me an allergic mess will be dead and buried.” His eyes glittered with mischief as he watched Steve from under his lashes.
“Such a shame.” Steve responded, returning that heated gaze with a cheeky grin of his own. Eddie hummed and leaned back against the counter, watching for a moment as Steve continued to stir and adjust and fuss.
“Need me to do anything?”
“Oh, nah, I think I’m good…Actually, maybe just chop some more broccoli for me? Think I eyeballed it wrong.”
“You got it.”
Eddie set to work, pulling off his rings before chopping the vegetables tossed haphazardly on top of the cutting board. Steve had to remind himself to pay attention to the task at hand instead of staring dreamily at the metalhead’s hands – deceptively strong, as Steve had come to experience firsthand. He listened and laughed as Eddie relayed some of the surprisingly juicy gossip amongst the other men at the mechanic shop he’d found work at the past couple of months. The nagging and near-constant anxiety he’d learned to live with was melting away as it always did when Eddie was near, when he used his dramatic story-telling abilities to transform a workplace dispute into a tragic comedy of near Shakespearean proportions.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Steve pressed himself up against Eddie, holding him in his arms from behind as the metalhead had done a few minutes earlier. He sighed a breath of relief onto the nape of Eddie’s neck, into his unruly curls that smelled like cheap shampoo and cigarettes and the scent that was uniquely his own.
“Hi, baby.” Eddie chuckled, before carrying on with his story and starting up on the last stem of broccoli.
“Hi.” Steve murmured, holding him close as he continued with his story and the chopping. Steve was listening, he really was – but he was also distracted by every minute shifting of muscles in Eddie’s back and shoulders, the rumble of his voice sending vibrations through Steve's chest.
So calmed was he by these rhythmic motions and vibrations that it was enough to leave him uttering a dissatisfied little grunt when Eddie trailed off mid-sentence. He suddenly tensed in Steve’s arms, a gasp scissoring out of him.
“S-sorry, need’ta-!”
Steve felt his face flush as realisation of what was about to happen dawned on him. His cock twitched in his pants, flush against Eddie’s ass. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t experienced this before – his boyfriend sneezing in his arms as he held him – but 2 weeks with no physical contact at all intensified everything, sending Steve’s heartbeat skyrocketing. He continued to hold his boyfriend, pressing his cheek against a rising shoulder as Eddie hitched and hitched. He could feel the expansion of his back against his chest, feel the slight stretch of Eddie’s flat stomach as his lungs filled with air. Right as the metalhead fell rigid, hovering just over the precipice of release, he reached up to rest one hand over Steve’s where it held his midsection protectively.
And just like that, he was pitching forward and into the shoulder Steve wasn’t resting against in an attempt to spare the vegetables an unwanted baptism.
“HEH-ENGXT’tsieww!! HDT’Chieww!! EHh’shieww!! ‘TCHieww!! Hahh, wow….”
Steve was blushing right to the tips of his ears now, he just knew it. Feeling Eddie buck against him, the rich, vocal tone of his desperate little fit…God, he’d missed this. Missed him. If his clinginess didn’t get the message across, his stiff cock jabbing into Eddie’s ass definitely would.
“God bless you, baby.” He all but sighed, kissing between Eddie’s shoulder blades before tugging at his arm, urging him to turn around in his arms. Eddie complied, sniffling sweetly, and Steve pressed a quick flurry of small kisses all over his face, particularly his twitching nose – he was only human – until Eddie was giggling like a school girl at the attention.
Throughout the kissing and the cuddling, he could feel that the older man was still chilled through. His nose, though a little warmer than before, was cold against his lips. Eddie’s leather jacket was frigid, even after the cover of his larger winter coat. His hands still icy enough that Steve could feel the coldness of his fingers through his cotton shirt as they clutched at his back.
“You’re still freezing, honey. And those were some serious sneezes. You sure you’re not getting sick?”
Eddie rolled his eyes, obviously getting a little annoyed at Steve’s mother hen line of questioning. But he couldn’t help it – he was a worry wart, and his worries wouldn’t go away until he personally did something, anything to fix them. He knew it was almost pathological at this point, but as he brought his boyfriend’s hands up to his mouth to blow some warmth back into them, all he cared about was making him feel better.
“I’m fine, Stevie.” Steve didn’t miss the full body shiver that ran through him, no doubt triggered by the warm breath on his fingertips.
He dropped Eddie’s hands and started to roll up his boyfriend’s sleeves, pushing back the leather and cotton of his long-sleeved tee. When he ran his own fingertips over the raised skin there, Eddie shivered again.
“Look, you’ve got goosebumps.”
“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine. Just…thawing out a little.”
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Is a duck’s ass watertight?”
“Dude, what the hell,” Steve was laughing, and Eddie looked ridiculously pleased with himself, the way he did every time he successfully pulled a giggle out of him.
“Yes, I’m sure. Now will you please quit worrying and feed me instead?”
“I’ll feed you if you go upstairs and change into my sweats or something. Get out of those cold clothes, please?”
Eddie put his hands up, rolling his eyes dramatically but smiling all the same.
“Okay, okay! I’m breaking out your finest cashmere sweater, since you insist.” He kissed the younger man on the cheek and squeezed past him, much closer than was necessary, and Steve felt one of those cold hands briefly grip his erection, standing at half-mast in his loose fitting sweats. Eddie snickered as he gasped in response, then cried out in mock-agony as Steve swatted him with a nearby wooden spoon.
“Dinner in 10!” He called up after his retreating boyfriend, already barrelling noisily up the stairs.
“Thank you, daddy!” Eddie called back, earning a gentle ‘ew’ that he wouldn’t have been able to hear over his own excitable laughter.
~~~~~~
Steve kissed into Eddie’s curls, holding his blanketed form protectively against him. After a dinner that the pair of them practically wolfed down (he’d never get tired of the litany of praises Eddie would send his way whenever he was eating his cooking), they’d cracked open a bottle of Steve’s parents’ most expensive red wine. Steve figured if they couldn’t be bothered to come home in over a year, then they wouldn’t notice a single missing bottle of Pinot Noir.
They were currently snuggled up on the couch, watching one tape of many Steve had smuggled back from Family Video. It had been Eddie’s choice, some schlocky Santa-themed horror movie, but Steve was hardly paying attention. He was focusing on the weight and (thankfully) increasing heat of Eddie half-sprawled in his lap, taking in each gleeful cackle as the deranged Santa hacked up yet another promiscuous teenager that had ended up on his naughty list. Or something.
It wasn’t just that the film was ass, or that Eddie was obnoxiously adorable. It was that with the ‘thawing’ had come a lot more sneezing than either of them had bargained for – and the wine had certainly not helped with that. Steve had offered to get antihistamines, but Eddie wholeheartedly refused. (“Rather be sneezing than sleeping. And I’m sure you agree, big boy.”)
So here Steve was, feeling a heady combination of mushy compassion and all-consuming lust for his poor boyfriend. He knew Eddie could feel the culmination of said lust pressing into him whenever he shuffled around, but he was choosing to ignore it – to drive Steve crazy or because he was just so absorbed in the terrible B movie, the younger man had no idea.
“EHh’NGXt’Ttchiew!! IGSHH!! Haht’TCHIEW!!”
Steve closed his eyes and let the sneezes echo in his head. He had half a mind to start recording his boyfriend when he got like this so he could play the glorious sound of it over and over at his leisure – but he was far too shy to ask for something like that, and the fear of anyone discovering a stack of tapes in his possession that were purely the sounds of his boyfriend’s plentiful allergies? Yeah. He’d probably drop dead right then and there.
He kissed the top of Eddie’s head and plucked several tissues from the box resting beside him, pressing them into his boyfriend’s open palm that was reaching gratefully out from under his blanketed cocoon.
“Here, baby.”
“Ugh. Thank you. I can’t stop.”
Steve bit his lip and willed his hips not to thrust as Eddie emptied his sinuses into the white bundle.
“Eddie…” he started.
“Before you ask again, Steve, and I mean it: I’m fine. I don’t want antihistamines. I’m totally content like this. Don’t worry.”
He turned around in the loop of Steve’s arms over his shoulders to kiss Steve, and the younger man squirmed at the pressure of Eddie’s hips against his crotch.
“Hah…” He gasped audibly this time. Eddie just smiled and kissed him again. It was about all he could take.
“You might be okay like this,” He sounded embarrassingly breathless. “…But I’m going insane.”
Eddie beamed at him.
“God, Stevie. You really did miss me, huh?” He teased, a gleeful lilt in his stuffy voice as he asked, and Steve’s suspicions that this was part of a sadistic little game at his expense were confirmed.
“You’re terrible,” he sighed, rolling his hips against Eddie. “I need to fuck you. Will you let me?”
“Hmm.” Eddie reached forward, purposely pushing his ass back against Steve, leaving him writhing and clutching at his hips. He took a swig from his wine glass before cuddling into him again.
“In a bit. I’m not finished with this movie yet.”
“Evil, man. You’re evil. God.”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Steve groaned and Eddie chuckled at his barefaced exasperation. When those chuckles started to fade, his body stiffening in Steve’s arms, the younger man practically growled.
“Eddie, I swear…”
Eddie sat up, shimmying off of Steve’s lap to sit next to him, thigh pressing into his own. The blanket slipped down his shoulders as he straightened up. To Steve’s utter delight, he actually started to wave a hand in front of his face as the sneeze built, the way he’d seen countless girls at school do but never until this point his own boyfriend.
“You’re going to kill me, you know?” He whined, reaching between his legs and allowing himself to squeeze hard.
“Ca-hann’t h-help ih-hih-!! Help it…the wine…It’s making me-! S’gonna make me-!!”
Steve cursed and reached his hand into his pants, ghosting over his underwear and the damp patch where the head of cock was practically leaking. He wrapped his palm around his length and fixed his eyes on Eddie – his fluttering eyelashes, flaring nostrils, mouth dropping open and eyebrows raising up, up, up…
“Hh-H-HH-!! HAHDT’TCHIEWwww!! ESSHHH’IEW!! Hah-IGXT!! Eh’NGXT!! ‘DDZSHHiewww!! Hohh’my god…”
Eddie flopped dramatically back against the couch, moaning softly as he luxuriated in the relief of that most powerful little fit. Steve also moaned, embarrassingly loudly, clutching his throbbing cock through the sticky cotton of his underwear. He was about one quick flick of the wrist away from shooting in his pants. He’d felt every tremor run through his boyfriend and jostle him on the couch – seen the way that, with thanks to Eddie’s fortunate positioning, the low lamplight lit up the delicate aerosol of each release as it burst into the air. He wanted to be on his knees in front of him. He wanted him to get out every tickle in his sensitive nose all over his skin. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.
Eddie regarded him, turning his head with a lazy tilt from where it rested on the back of the couch. Steve didn’t miss the way his pupils were blown, practically black and making his huge, glittering eyes look ever bigger than usual.
“Bless me.” He said, and smiled when Steve swore under his breath.
“That was – that was amazing.” He admitted, pulling his hand out of his pants when he realised the pressure against his cock was only worsening his situation.
“Yeah?” Eddie flashed him a crooked smile, rubbing a finger lazily up against his pink nostrils, clearly getting off on the exhibitionism of it all. “What was so great about those specifically, honey? Did you like how loud they were?”
Steve swallowed, his flushed cheeks burning harder. It was still so hard to actually talk about this stuff out loud, in detail. He had no idea how Eddie did it.
“Not that. But – yeah, that was great too. No, the um – the lamp. Behind you. It – lit up the s-spray. I could really see it and it was – a lot. So. Yeah, it was. Really something.” He finished lamely, cradling his brow in an upraised hand, partially shielding himself from Eddie even whilst his cock throbbed at the confession.
“Oh, honey. Don’t hide that pretty face from me.” Eddie was crawling into his lap in an instant, gently extricating his hand so that Steve was forced to look at him. He smiled nervously back at the older man.
“Sorry. Still a bit shy.”
“You’ll get there. And in the meantime – I’ll make up for the both of us.” Eddie leaned in and rubbed his nose against Steve’s. “I love when you tell me what you like, baby. Makes me so hard. Love getting you off with my tickly nose.”
Steve gasped, feeling his entire body tingle in response to the low rumble of his boyfriend’s words. He lurched forward, closing the short distance between his and Eddie’s lips and kissed him hard. For a few short, wonderful moments, Steve thought they were putting an end to whatever blue-balling Eddie seemed intent on enforcing, but no dice. A particularly wrenching scream keened through the speakers of the television, and in a sudden swift motion, his boyfriend was pulling back from the kiss and turning heel, pacing towards the screen.
“You’re joking. You can’t be serious.” Steve groaned, his head flying back with a gentle ‘thunk’ against the back of the couch.
“I’m totally serious.” Eddie responded from the floor in front of the VCR. “I wanna know what happened. I’m rewinding it.”
“Eddie. I hate this. I want you.”
“Come on, Steve. There’s only, what? 30 minutes of this movie left? Surely you can hold out for 30 minutes.”
Eddie stood in front of him and smiled, all teeth and crinkled eyes. Steve would have felt endlessly bitter if not for the sight of his boyfriend’s own insistent erection pitching a tent in his borrowed, dark grey sweatpants.
“Fine.” He grumbled, and Eddie settled down next to him, kissing his cheek and wrapping the blanket round both their shoulders.
Steve tried to focus on the movie but it just wasn’t happening – not when he could feel his heartbeat in his dick and his equally as hard boyfriend was sniffling in his ear. For lack of anything better to do and praying for an adequate distraction, Steve reached for his wine glass and drained the contents in one large gulp. He wasn’t really a wine guy, but it wasn’t all bad.
A couple of minutes later he was no closer to focusing on the movie and no closer to having a flacid cock. It was as he shifted in his seat in an attempt to get an iota of relief that he felt it – the familiar irritating burn of a tickle taking hold in his sinuses. He could already tell he was going to sneeze – it was just so strong. He wondered for a moment if there was something to be said about the histamine levels in wine – it certainly seemed to get to Eddie, but so did everything. Either way, he figured he’d have some fun with this.
Tilting his head back slightly, he sniffled, hoping the action would urge the tickle along. And God, did it ever. He squinted his eyes against the sensation, feeling them starting to water. Just a moment later, his breath was catching and he started to hitch his way into an audible build-up. Both eyes fluttering shut now, he felt rather than saw his boyfriend tensing and turning in his lap to take in his desperate expression.
“Steve?”
“Hh-HAH!”
He thought he might be able to tease Eddie by talking his way through the hitching breaths that left his chest heaving and nostrils flaring in and out, but no. It was such an overwhelming tickle there was very little he could do but let it take over and do as it would with him. He tightened his hold on Eddie’s shoulder, mirroring the grip of the metalhead’s fingers against his upper thigh. With one final, gasping breath, he was lurching forward, aiming the brunt of the sneeze towards both of their laps.
“HH’RISSHHHHH’AH!!”
He felt Eddie’s fingers dig harder into his thigh, and his lips quirked into a shaky smile before he was tensing and releasing a second sneeze, again directly towards his boyfriend’s crotch.
“HAH-TSCCCHHHH’Ahh!!”
Both sneezes had been violent and drawn-out affairs – he blinked owlishly in the aftermath, relishing in the tingles each release sent from the base of his skull and down his spine. He leant back after a beat, wiping his damp lips and nostrils with the back of his sleeve, before snuggling back into Eddie – who he hadn’t so much as looked at even once. He could see that said metalhead was still staring at him at the periphery of his vision, still squeezing at his thigh with twitching fingers.
“Bless you, Stevie, holy fuck.”
Steve smiled pleasantly, as if he hadn’t shaken the entire house, let alone their shared couch, with each sneeze moments earlier.
“Thank you, hon. Think you gave me your tickle.”
Eddie cursed under his breath, as Steve knew he would, and now the smile splitting his face was downright mischievous. His boyfriend noticed, no doubt, and started to climb into his lap, but Steve stopped his advances with a firm hand to the chest. The look of incredulity Eddie flashed him as he was held back like an overexcitable puppy was objectively hilarious, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.
“What? You said you wanted to watch the movie. Surely you can hold out for – what – 20 minutes?”
The bemused looks of realisation that replaced Eddie’s previous confusion as Steve essentially quoted him back to himself was priceless, even funnier to Steve. He laughed again, enjoying every moment of this. He thought he could maybe understand his boyfriend’s little game, now – this was fun.
Eddie, veritably hoisted by his own petard and visibly aware of it, settled petulantly back under the blanket at Steve’s side.
“Oh, I can hold out, alright. I can hold out for as long as I like and more. You fucker.”
Steve just laughed again, nuzzled adoringly into Eddie’s curls as the older man tucked his head under his chin. The pair of them were jostled softly just a few moments later when Eddie trembled with a sudden fit of sneezes, half-stifled into the fist he haphazardly pressed up against his nose.
“Hh’GKKt! IGXT! Hh’DTCchh! Hh-! HIG’tchu!! Ah…sorry…”
Steve kissed the top of his head, murmuring a soft 'bless you' as he willed his heartbeat to return to an acceptable rate. Despite almost believing his boyfriend’s repeated confirmations that he wasn’t getting sick, concern blossomed in his chest at the thick sound of Eddie’s post-sneeze snuffling. Reaching up with one firm hand, he tenderly brushed the older man’s fringe out of the way before resting his broad palm on the skin of his forehead. He heard Eddie tut, but he didn’t pull away.
“Yeah, okay. Doesn’t feel like you’re getting sick.” He muttered after a beat, feeling a little better.
“Told you.” Steve could practically hear the eyeroll in that statement.
“You’re still not entirely warmed up.”
“So keep holding me.”
Steve did, wrapping his arms tighter around Eddie and pressing his face right back into those curls. It was becoming a bit of an addiction – his boyfriend’s hair. The texture of it, the smell. It wasn’t the softest, but he didn’t care. It felt wonderful smushed up against his cheek. A little tickly though. Steve grinned and continued to kiss and rub his face against Eddie’s head like a clingy house cat – (no protest from the metalhead, who invited any and all physical contact from him) - allowing the stray fly-away hairs to tease his already sensitive nostrils. He sniffled experimentally, and yeah, that had done it.
He barely had a couple of seconds to angle his face away so that he wasn’t sneezing directly into Eddie’s hair, but the frantic twisting meant that his balance was compromised.
“HH’YISSSSSCHHH’EW-!!!”
As the sneeze practically tore through his throat, he scrambled to free one arm from the protective circling of Eddie’s shoulders. He managed to keep himself from toppling both himself and his boyfriend off the sofa with his right arm planted firmly on the cushions, but it didn’t mean the pair of them hadn’t been considerably shaken in the process. God, that had tickled. He opened his eyes, a tear of irritation rolling down his cheek as he blinked. He blushed slightly to see the residual spray of that sneeze still hanging in the air for some seconds before dissipating gently.
“God. ‘Scuse me.” He managed to keep his voice steady, even as his cock throbbed with the mischievous thrill of purposely making himself sneeze to wind his boyfriend up – something Eddie played up constantly.
It had been enough to break said metalhead, apparently. He was pulling Steve’s face to his own almost immediately, pressing a heated kiss to his lips and groaning at the sensation of the younger man’s slick nostrils against the side of his face. Steve kissed back eagerly, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be teasing his boyfriend but then no longer caring.
“I’m feeling a lot warmer now, honey. Trust me,” Eddie sighed against his mouth, having pulled back from the kiss with an obscene spit-slick pop.
“My bed is even warmer.” Steve replied, voice thick with arousal as Eddie’s clever, wandering hands seemed to ignite every nerve they skimmed over. “Only 15 minutes or so left of the movie.”
At that, Eddie paused in his ministrations and sat back. Steve watched, panting slightly, as the older man’s facial muscles ticked and twitched, an inner battle of impulsivity and self-control evidently warring within him. Eddie had a lot of physical tells, once you got to know him. He was an incredibly expressive person in both physicality and verbiage, and Steve was thankful for it – it meant he didn’t have to spend too much time agonising over whether he was second-guessing what his boyfriend was really feeling.
Eventually, Eddie turned to face him, a blank expression plastered to his face.
“Fuck it.”
“Come again?”
“Fuck it. Screw it. Can’t do this anymore. I’ve seen this shit before, Santa dies at the end.”
Eddie jumped to his feet and extended an eager hand towards Steve, a crooked smile well and firmly planted on his mouth. Steve grinned back and gripped Eddie’s forearm, allowing his boyfriend to yank him to his feet and lead him eagerly towards the stairs, both of them giggling like the lovesick idiots they were. This was gonna be fun.
#s/tranger t/hings#nametakenfic#sneeze fic#snzfucker#sneeze kink#snz kink#sneeze fucker#snz fet#snzblr
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Could you possibly write 🧡 for platonic S/tobin? I love the way you always allude to them in your S/teddie fics, and I’d love to see how you write them!
Hey anon, thank you for the prompt (Warm Night In)! Had a lot of fun writing this, and it ended up just over 8k!
((Set this in my S/teddie Mutual fetish AU - this would take part a few months after the S4 v/ecna bs (obviously everyone lives and H/awkins remains unscathed for the most part because I crave happiness) - pre-relationship, mutual pining on either side))
S/teve comes down with an absolute monster of a cold and R/obin is there to look after him
~~~~~~
Content:
Platonic S/tobin, S/teddie pre-relationship (M/M), cold sneezes, loud sneezes, sneezing in tissues, S/teve blowing his nose in E/ddie's bandana, fever, coughing, caretaking, mess, spray, descriptions of explicit fetish fantasies, mentions of potential contagion, R/obin is a very good sport about S/teve being terrible at covering his sneezes
CW: internalised homophobia, S/teve is insecure about his fetish
NSFW - fic is about a platonic M/F relationship but includes separate NSFW M/M content - minors DNI!
“HH-H!! HAHHRISHHHHOOOHhh! Fuck…”
Steve snuffled miserably into the soggy tissue he’d managed to catch his most recent explosion in. It looked about as sturdy as he currently felt – which was to say, not at all. He reached out from under the protective cover of his jacket, functioning as a makeshift blanket as he lay on the breakroom couch, and plucked another 3 tissues from the quickly diminishing box. Taking in a deep breath, he blew his nose with as much force as he could muster, desperate to get some relief from the built-up congestion. All attempts of keeping noise to a minimum had dwindled hours ago, along with whatever remained of his energy. He tried not to think about the customers browsing the shelves of the establishment for movies, how they could probably hear every crackling shift of mucus that he forced out into the tissues, the embarrassingly loud honk that rounded off his efforts.
It felt as though he’d spent more time in the first half of his shift stifling the never-ending barrage of sneezes between his pinching fingers than actually working. It hadn’t done anything for his headache, squeezing his temples as if in a vice – and it certainly hadn’t helped with the blockage in his sinuses. Once Robin had shown up that afternoon, she had all but forced him to go and lie down in the back, pulling him by the arm even as he smothered another miserable sneeze against his palm.
“Steve, please. If not for your own sake, do this for me. I don’t want to be responsible for letting you die on shift from some kind of freak head explosion – especially not in front of the customers. Who do you think’ll be the one scrubbing your brains off the walls?”
“Jesus, Robin. It’s not th’haahht….that ba’hhHDD!!”
Out of pure habit at that point, Steve had pinched his quivering nostrils closed, that final touch of his fingers to the sensitive skin pushing him over the edge.
“HAHH’GXKKT’SCHHH!!”
It was quieter than his unsuppressed sneezes, nobody could fight him on that. But it’d still been loud, the desperate attempt at wrangling it into submission making it angrier, more violent to his ears – and evidently, Robin’s. She’d hissed in sympathy as he let go of his nose, the wrinkle of concern between her furrowed brows growing deeper as his sinuses audibly squeaked with each post-sneeze snuffle.
“You shouldn’t do that.” She’d worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ll seriously hurt yourself – blow out an eardrum or something. Steve – don’t.” She finished firmly, glaring as he had started to lift his hand up to his nose in preparation for an encore.
“But ih-hih-! It’s so loud – I –“
“It’s okay, dingus. There’s, like, one guy here right now. In the adult movie section. At 4:30pm.”
It was certainly a reassuring statement, but it wasn’t really as if Steve would have been able to hold back in the first place. The couch shook with the force of the sneeze that rocked through him – the first he had actually let out unhindered since the tickle had taken hold hours earlier. He’d practically roared with the effort of it, drenching his palms as he caught it between his steepled hands.
“HAHHH’RESSSSSHHHHIEWWWW!!!”
He’d noticed Robin jump, heard her mutter a soft “oh my god” as her soul no doubt left her body. Glancing up apologetically, he had blinked through bleary eyes at her, holding his soiled hands in place. He hoped she didn’t notice the slight shiver that ran down his spine, the goosebumps breaking out over his arms. After holding back for so long, it had felt so good to purge the tickle completely, like spreading a soothing balm over the persistent, niggling itch.
“Sorry.” He had just about resisted the urge to sniffle again, knowing it would sound gnarly.
“That’s ok – hey, look at that, I don’t need that midday coffee anymore. Totally awake!” She smiled like a dork and he couldn’t help grinning behind the protective cover of his hands.
“I’m gonna walk to the store on my lunch break and get you some things. Are you allergic to any medicines? Does your head hurt? Would you say you’re coming down with a cough – and is it a chesty kind of deal, or is it more tickly? Do you –“
“Robi’d.” Steve had cut her off, both of them visibly wincing as he struggled to pronounce her name. As if he didn’t feel disgusting enough, he could feel his nostrils twitching and flaring, another colossal sneeze working its way up and out of his sinuses just moments later.
“HAHHH’GITTSSCHHH’IEWWW!! Oh M’by god….”
Messy. So, so messy. As he’d snuffled and searched frantically for something to save him, Robin had slid a small pack of tissues across the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Guess I’ll take my break now. Try and hold out with these. Do not move. I’ll be back in 20 minutes, tops!”
With that, she’d spun on her heels and barrelled out of the door, leaving him to sit and stare at the tissues, holding his sticky hands tightly to his face as he tried to formulate the best plan of action. Before he’d even started to reach for them, Robin had stuck her head round the breakroom door one last time.
“Oh, and before I forget – Bless you!”
~~~~~~
‘Do not move’, she’d said. Steve had initially intended to clean himself up and ignore her entirely, getting back to organising the latest releases on the shelves and continuing as before. That had been his intention, but after the laborious and disgusting task of cleaning up his hands and face with tissues so flimsy they stuck to his skin almost instantly, and the blood rush that hit him so hard the moment he stood up he had swooned with it – not moving sounded like a great idea, actually. And so he hadn’t, for hours now.
He tossed the latest bundle of soaked tissues in the general direction of the trash can, using another few to dab gingerly under his damp, sensitive nostrils. Robin had been sure to pick him up some Kleenex Mansize on her trip to the pharmacy, making Steve blush when she’d mentioned they were the next best thing to getting him a tablecloth to use. He knew she’d just been joking but for various…reasons, his regrettably huge – and often, extremely messy – sneezes were a topic he didn’t like to draw attention to. They did a good enough job of doing that themself, turning more than a few heads each time they ripped through his sinuses. She’d noticed his change in demeanour immediately, because of course she had, and her voice had softened as she made some comment or other about ‘you know what they say about big sneezes’. He’d had to laugh at that – she had an amazing ability to disarm and placate him when all he wanted was to defend.
It was hard not to be defensive when it came to the topic of sneezing. He wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to explain why to Robin. He’d disclosed more to her than he had to any other person – even Nancy. And for what it was worth, that seemed to be the case for Robin, too. She may not have ended up his girlfriend, but this was better. She was his best friend, his person. He considered it a blessing that she actually couldn’t like him in that way – he was a fuck up, romantically. It only seemed to push people away when he got emotionally involved – another thing he had confessed to her one night when they were cuddled up in her bedroom, the late hour and the collective exhaustion between the pair of them elevating their meaningless rambling into much deeper, scarier territory.
She’d told him at the time that he wasn’t a fuck up, that he was fucking great and that he just had to believe her. That he had to slow down and stop treating dating like it was some kind of doomsday race, and that he would definitely find the girl for him. He’d been surprised that, although the comment was reassuring in its own way, something felt a little…off. Probably because an image of Eddie flashed across his mind in that moment, and the gravity of it was too much for him to handle. He’d tried his best to ignore it, but it had only flourished in the following weeks to the point he was thinking about the metalhead near constantly. It terrified him, truth be told. And that fear made him feel like a hypocrite above all else. How could he accept Robin with such ease but the thought of himself liking men almost had him breaking out in a cold sweat?
It really didn’t help that Eddie had the most extensive and pervasive allergies of anyone Steve had ever known. He’d figured the fits he’d been privy to at the boat house had been circumstantial. It had been dusty enough that he’d sneezed a couple of times himself, and he’d been there sparingly – for Eddie, it had been days of exposure. Of course he’d had a rough time. But, as time went on, Steve realised it wasn’t just dust. It was dust, and mould, and pollen, and certain perfumes, and feathers – the list that Steve wouldn’t admit to mentally keeping continued to grow as the days became weeks became the last couple of months. He would be engrossed in conversation, completely captivated by whatever Eddie was saying and happily so, when the older man’s expression would crumple and Steve had to pretend to be a normal person as he witnessed the most erotic allergic reactions of his life unfold mere feet away from him.
He felt he did a pretty good job, thank you very much. He even remembered to bless Eddie about half of the time, and enjoyed the bashful smile he got in response when he did. He was pretty sure he didn’t turn totally bright red each time – something he considered a huge achievement. Crossing his legs was a surefire way of concealing any visible…excitement. He was nailing it. Dealing with Eddie’s sneezes was one thing - as much as he had tried to hold back around the older man, he’d slipped up a few times and sneezed his embarrassing, splashy, intrusive sneezes in front of him. Luckily, the metalhead didn’t seem entirely repulsed – if anything, Steve noticed a twinkle in his expressive eyes, noticed a certain shift in his demeanour and body language as he focused in on him. It made him far too happy to be blessed by Eddie, but it simultaneously made him want the ground to open up and swallow him whole. This growing attraction to the older man, his – interest, going into overdrive; all of it was just too much to deal with – so he…didn’t. Basically.
And he didn’t need to be thinking about all this right now – not when his head was pounding and his eyes and nose were leaking like a faucet. And this fucking tickle…
Sitting up now, he reached frantically for another handful of tissues, holding them at the ready in an upraised hand as he panted and gasped, willing the maddening tickle to culminate and grant him some temporary reprieve. He could feel his nostrils flaring, stretching to capacity as the itch burrowed and crawled through his sinuses, leaving them damp and threatening to overflow.
“Come on…” he grumbled aloud after a particularly desperate gasp scissored out of him, causing tears of irritation to bead at the corners of his eyes but leaving him notably bereft of sneezes.
He reached up with a finger of the hand not cradling the tissues expectantly in front of him and nudged the tip of his nose from side to side. More often than not, a little manual stimulation could help a particularly stubborn sneeze along, at least if he was ticklish enough. It seemed to do its job, a few little wiggles igniting the tickle and leaving him bristling with the force of the subsequent inhale.
“HHDTT-!! HUUURRRSHHHHH’OOHhh!! HARRRUSHHHH’IEWWW!! TISSSCHHH’IEWW!! HAGT’TSCHHHHhhhh!!”
The tissues were predictably destroyed in the onslaught, damp and torn against his palm. He sat in place for a moment, leaning heavily to one side on the arm he’d frantically propped up against the couch to steady himself. That fit had been intense, each sneeze seeming to begin at his toes and rip through his entire body, muscles seizing and skin tingling. He felt pretty pathetic, shaking like a leaf and panting in the aftermath, extremely grateful that although everyone in downtown Hawkins could probably hear the excruciatingly fast progression of his illness, they couldn’t see him. He swiped at his dripping nostrils with what was left of the tissues before tossing them, plucking even more to tend to his leaking eyes, his lips dampened with heavy spray. One wary glance at the box revealed that it was almost empty. With a defeated sigh, he allowed himself to fall back against the couch, one arm slung over his closed eyes.
He hated being sick. The lack of control, the way it distracted him from focusing his energy on others, demanding he focus on himself, his weakened body that was no longer cooperating with him. The humiliation of it – the way he was such a gross, drippy mess. He felt like a germ factory, and he wasn’t wrong.
The worst part of it all, even above feeling shitty and gross and useless – was that he was inevitably going to get Robin sick. Her parents were out of town for the week, some old hippy reunion somewhere or other. Robin was fine with the peace and having the house to herself, he knew that – but they’d both decided that since he drove her to and from school and work most days and they hung out most days too, it would make sense that she just stay with him for the week.
It was fun, like they were real roommates – or maybe siblings? Both of them were Only Children so it wasn’t like they had any means of comparison, but the closeness and easiness of their bond was undeniable to themselves and everyone around them. Every day, they’d wake up, eat breakfast together, Steve would drop Robin off and they'd go about their respective school or work, reconvene for their shared evening shifts, eat dinner together, sometimes hang out with each other and sometimes not. They’d planned to veg out tonight, watch some dumb movies and relax. It was great hanging out with everyone, especially now that Eddie had been welcomed into the fold, but he needed his Robin time. Working together most of the week was great, for sure, but it was still work.
That had been the plan, but now he was wondering if he should muster up the rest of his strength at the end of the day to drop her off at her house and drive himself back home alone, sequestering himself away until this plague-like sickness fucked off for good. He knew already she wouldn’t allow it, but he was going to proffer the suggestion anyway.
He glanced at the crooked clock on the wall – just about two hours ‘til closing. Keith and the other coworker Steve had yet to meet would be working tomorrow, and he had the weekend off, for which he could not have imagined he would ever feel so grateful. Maybe he could sneeze and cough and wheeze this cold out of his system in a day if he willed it so. He felt awful that Robin had been working the front alone, especially as business ramped up to a maximum on Friday evenings. Just two more hours.
~~~~~
“…eve. Hey, Steve. Wakey wakey. Steeeve.”
It took Steve a moment to realise who he was, let alone where he was and the fact that Robin was gently shaking him awake. He groaned as his head started to throb almost immediately, as if the headache had been waiting to strike the second he woke up. His eyes opened slowly, irritated and dry, and scanned their way upwards to take in the nervous expression on Robin’s face. She was smiling, sure, but she was terrible at masking her concern. It worried him more than a little that she was even trying to hide the anxiety she would usually wear so plainly.
“…Robin?” He managed to rasp out. They both winced at the ragged sound of it.
“Jeez, Dingus. You sound like you swallowed a pile of broken glass.” Robin was still smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. If anything, they looked almost glossy enough that tears were imminent. Steve absolutely couldn’t stand that – the immediate need to reassure her galvanised him, the final push he needed to drag himself upwards and into a seated position. His head throbbed, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. He sensed Robin hovering, even with his eyes closed could visualise her hesitant hand outstretched toward him.
“I’m okay,” He cleared his throat somewhat productively, and tried again. “I’m okay, Robin.” Slightly better.
She flashed him another sad smile.
“You’re really not, Steve. But you don’t need to be.”
He didn’t really have a response to that – he just nodded, kneading at his temple a couple of times, willing the pain to recede. Sitting up had only made the throbbing worse, and on top of that the shifting of mucus in his sinuses had brought that ever-lingering tickle back to the surface. And god, did it tickle…
“I’ve gotten everything sorted out front. It’s a teeny tiny bit early, but I figure we’re alright to head out now. Do you – oh.”
Robin paused, taking in Steve’s tortured expression and the way his chest jumped with increasingly violent inhales. He noticed her noticing, started to blush as he lifted a hand frantically to cover his twisting facial features. He scrambled madly for the tissue box, but he wasn’t going to make it, he was going to sneeze, and-
He felt Robin press a handful of fresh tissues into his reaching palm, but he was too slow. The first sneeze burst out into his waiting palm, drenching it with spray and an unfortunate build-up of mess.
“RRRRISCCHHHHHH’IEWWWW!!”
He had just enough time to raise the tissues in his other hand to his face for the volley that followed, awkwardly cradling his soiled hand in a partial fist to shield the damage from Robin.
“HAHHHDTT’SHIEWWWWW!! HH’RRRUSHHHH’OOHH!! RRRRRSHHHH’UHHH!!”
He shuddered, the force of the powerful sneezing sapping him of almost all of his remaining energy. He gingerly wiped at his nose and tossed the sodden wad towards the trash can, composed enough now to reach for more clean tissues on his own and tend to his hands.
He glanced up and noticed Robin standing awkwardly with her arms wrapped around her lanky frame, half-watching and half-floundering, not sure where to look and chewing her bottom lip hard enough that it looked painful.
“Ugh, sorry you had to see that, Robs. I really am okay, I promise. Definitely sick. But okay.” He tossed the second wad of tissues in the trash and stood up tentatively, wobbling a little but managing not to fall on his ass. Robin had reached out then, steadied him with a soft hand to the back of his tricep. She gasped, eyes darting up to his face.
“Steve, you’re boiling hot! Like, volcanic explosion, magma-level hot!”
He sighed, knowing there was no way his verbal reassurances would get through to her at this point. He could understand how she was feeling – everyone called him a mother hen, and he knew it was true. Worrying about other people was an immutable and extremely prominent part of his personality. He’d be fussing over her just as much if he were in her shoes – would offer to carry her to the car if she was this shaky on her feet, even knowing he’d probably get an ‘Ew, gross’ and stalwart refusal to let him do so.
“’S just a mild fever. I run hot anyway, you know that.” He rounded off this blasé statement with an obnoxiously noisy sniffle.
She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Can you drive like this?” She asked, voice heavy with concern as she helped him gather up his things.
“Absolutely. Driven under much worse conditions, remember?” He was referring to driving uphill in the dark, borderline concussed, and the both of them knew it.
“That was different – desperate times, fighting an evil sludge monster. The only evil sludge monster here right now is you, Harrington.”
He snuffled again, the sound of it thick and wet, causing her to wince. Her poorly veiled disgust wasn’t making him feel much better, but he also couldn’t hold it against her. He sounded gross.
“It was different – like I said, much worse conditions. I have a cold, Robin. I’m not on my death bed or anything.” He shouldered his backpack, clearing his throat and managing to hold back what he was sure would be an obnoxiously prolonged coughing fit. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She shrugged and followed him as he strode – or attempted to stride – out into the store. She was hovering, making sure he wouldn’t fall – it was sweet but still irritating. By the time they reached the car, she was close enough that when he spun round suddenly she nearly fell backwards in shock. He reached out to grab and steady her by the forearm, feeling guilty immediately that he’d touched her with a germy hand.
“Listen, Robin – I really don’t want you to catch this. Will you let me drive you home? I can bring you your stuff back in a couple of days.”
“Steve,” she started, her tone soft but firm. “I’m not leaving you alone right now. I don’t care if I get sick – you need someone to help you.”
“I don’t – “
“Don’t bother trying to talk me out of it. You’d just hide yourself away and get sicker and sicker, feeling sorry for yourself and ignoring anybody who reached out to you. You sound awful, Steve, I’m serious. I’m staying with you. Tough shit.”
He blinked at her. He’d expected her to refuse, but not the additional psychoanalytical beat down.
“Um. Wow, okay, sure. It’s your funeral if you catch it.” He shrugged, opening the car door.
“Thought you weren’t on your death bed.” She quipped back, settling into the passenger seat.
“Yeah, well.”
~~~~~~
After all the easy-going confidence with which he’d reassured Robin he was totally fine to drive, within minutes he realised that whilst he technically could, it would not be fun. If anything, he’d felt better with the concussion. He had a permanent bundle of tissues in his right hand, even as he clutched the wheel, ready to stifle sneeze after sneeze as Robin fretted beside him and held the wheel steady enough that they wouldn’t go veering dangerously off-road. They were a week into May, the weather not even remotely cold outside, but the fever had left him chilled and shivering enough that he’d turned the heating up anyway, apologising to Robin. It wasn’t helping, however, and all the shift in temperature seemed to do was tickle his sensitive nose even more.
It was as Steve pulled to a stop at a red light that the tickle blossomed so suddenly and so intensely that he couldn’t even think to let go of the wheel and ready himself to sneeze into his tissues. His chest jumped with a wrenching gasp, nostrils flaring wide and jaw snapping open in an instant. It tickled so, so much; even as it tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes closed, he couldn’t deny that the sensation was immensely pleasurable, moreso knowing that the resultant sneeze was going to be an absolute monster. He craved that release after all those hastily suppressed sneezes, pinching his reddened nostrils shut against the force of them.
Focusing all of his energy on the sneeze and losing himself entirely, he hitched once, twice, and then –
“HAHHHDDT’TIISSSCCHHHHH’IEWWWW!!!”
It tore through him, sending him tumbling forward in his chair. As he’d expected, it felt fucking incredible – he leaned into it, savoured that tingling relief that spread through his limbs as his lungs pushed out every last bit of air through his pursed lips.
“Oh, god, Steve!”
Robin’s yelp pulled him back to the present - the embarrassing, unfortunate present in which he had just sprayed the sneeze to end all sneezes all over the steering wheel, dashboard, his own arms and hands, and practically everything else within a 4 foot radius as the massive cloud of aerosol swirled in the air around him. He felt his entire face burning – he meant to apologise, he really did, but the tickle returned with a vengeance and it was just too strong.
“TTTISSSSHHHHH’IIEWWWW!! HH’RISSSSSHH’OOohh!!”
He sneezed twice more in much the same fashion, helpless to control it. He rocked with them, eyes streaming in irritation, feeling his muscles strain with the effort and the way it almost lifted him from his seat.
“Steve!! Oh my god, that went everywhere!” He heard Robin complain, saw how out of the corner of his eye she rolled down her window frantically.
“Fuck, I’m –“ He started before a loud honking behind them cut him off. The light had turned green and the car behind them was impatiently telling them to haul ass – how embarrassing. He stepped on the gas, blushing to his ears and hoping that the other driver hadn’t been witness to that repulsive display.
He sniffled, turning a corner and, thankfully, onto a road with no other drivers. He took the chance to peer down sheepishly at the damage he’d caused. His steering wheel was almost dripping; the dashboard glittering with visible droplets of his spray; he could even see a shimmer of dampness on the back of his hands and forearms.
“Robin,” he started, scrambling with one hand for some clean tissues and scrubbing at every surface he could reach. “I am so, so sorry. That was disgusting. Did I – did I get you?”
He turned to her, plucking a handful of tissues from the box and thrusting them at her. He realised with some dismay as she accepted them that said box was now completely empty.
“I don’t know what happened – I just couldn’t control them. God.” He scrunched his eyes shut before remembering he was in the middle of driving.
“Ugh, Dingus. It’s okay. I mean, it’s pretty gross but I’ve had, like, gooey monster tentacles all over me. I can handle your mucus.”
“Fuck.” It didn’t help – he was still mortified. Robin was such a good sport – he imagined most people would have punched him square in the jaw for that performance.
“Steve, hey. You’re really sick, it’s okay.” She patted him on the arm conciliatorily.
“God. I guess I am. That shit felt like it bounced my brain off my skull.” Normally he wouldn’t talk about his sneezes, especially not how they made him feel, but he was truly shaken.
“Think you can hold it together ‘til we get to your place?” She asked, resting her hand on his arm now. The gentle touch felt reassuring.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll b-be-! Hh’HUH!”
“Gonna sneeze again?”
Regrettably so, he really was. Panicking, he started to gasp into another buildup.
“I dohh-h’ont-!! I don’t h’hahh!! Hahhve any-! Any Tih’hh-! TTTTISHHHHIEWWWW!!” He exploded, this time jerking to his left to avoid spraying Robin and instead baptising the window beside him. The car lurched with him – Robin squeaked and grabbed for the steering wheel, pulling it towards herself to steady them back onto the road.
“Sorry, sorry, fuck!” Steve snuffled heavily. Mess was now dripping in twin streams over his upper lip, making him feel more disgusting than ever.
“No tissues?” Robin said, letting go of the wheel and wriggling in her seat, looking all around her for a spare. She came up empty, as Steve knew she would.
“Hold on,” She started, leaning back and angling herself between their seats as she reached into the back. “Might be something back here.”
Steve started to sniffle again but held himself back, anxious it would only trigger another spraying sneeze – one that would no doubt splatter the front window with its productiveness.
“I really don’t think – “
“Bingo!” Robin announced, audibly proud of herself. When Steve turned his head to look at the item she proffered towards him, his blush returned in earnest. Eddie’s bandana-slash-handkerchief. He must have left it there the last time he’d ridden with Steve. Come to think of it, when he’d driven Dustin, Lucas and Eddie to a campaign at the Wheeler house, the metalhead had been pretty…sensitive. He’d reassured them that it was just allergies, nothing to worry about. And it really hadn’t been all that much, but even a sniffle from Eddie was enough to send all the blood in Steve’s body rushing straight to fill his cock.
Not only had Eddie sneezed, a series of sweet little stifles that had Steve’s heart beating at 100mph, he’d sniffled and rubbed at his pinkened nostrils with the very bandana Robin was now pressing into the palm of a hand she had pried free from his grip on the steering wheel. He must have forgotten about it and left it there, sitting on the floor of Steve’s car, completely unaware of how intensely erotic said item was to the former jock. Had he known it was there, would he have had the courage to return it to Eddie himself? It seemed to burn in his palm. Eddie’s adorable, desperate sneezes had been sprayed and muffled into this fabric. It was too much – on top of the fever, this deviant spiral of thought left him feeling as though his brain was seconds away from leaking out his ears.
“…Steve?” Robin asked. He jumped, eyes flickering upwards from their fixed stare on the bandana to her confused expression, then swivelling straight back to the road before he really did make them crash.
“Yeah. Uhh. It’s Eddie’s.” He said, as if that meant anything at all to Robin. He heard her laugh.
“Uh, yeah, Steve, I figured. Unless black and skulls are your thing now.” She was teasing him, and not just about his fashion choices. He wasn’t sure how, but he sensed that she was, and it went deeper than his stupidly obvious statement.
“So…are you gonna use it?” She asked a moment later, and Steve remembered the entire reason she’d given it to him in the first place. He’d been focusing so hard on keeping the blood in his head and not in his cock that he was almost functioning on autopilot. He was suddenly very aware that the mess running down his face was moments away from ending up in his mouth.
“Yeah, fuck, sorry.” Desperate to avoid her scrutinous gaze, he hurriedly brought the fabric to his face and blew into it, hard. Arousal blossomed anew, thinking about Eddie doing the same – about every sneeze the fabric had been graced with now touching his face. It was driving him crazy. He wished he was alone in this moment – if he was, he’d pull off the road, haphazardly park, then jerk himself hard and fast until he was coming into the bandana, that sexy little piece of fabric that almost functioned like an indirect kiss.
Miraculously, he was only a little hard – enough that Robin wouldn’t notice, especially since dicks were a big enough source of amused repulsion for her that she was unlikely to be looking. He imagined the illness was helping to keep him soft; he really did feel shitty, increasingly shittier with every passing minute. He rounded off with one final, honking blow before sighing deeply – a weary, exhausted exhalation of defeat. Robin rubbed his arm reassuringly.
“Almost home.”
~~~~~~
In the twenty minutes that had passed since they’d walked through Steve’s front door, he had: sneezed at least 10 times; almost brained himself on the corner of his dresser as he attempted to wriggle out of his (admittedly pretty tight) jeans; coughed hard and long enough to leave his throat burning; and almost fallen down the stairs dressed in the comfortable loungewear Robin had insisted he put on.
In short, he wasn’t doing so hot. He hoped that this fast progression from awful to even worse would end up in his favour, aligning with the hope from earlier that he could burn through this sickness over the next couple of days, as if sprinting to the finish line. He really didn’t think he could handle feeling this terrible for much longer than that. It was as if every cell in his body was committing mutiny against him.
He lowered himself onto the living room couch on shaky legs and wrapped his arms around himself. He had no idea how he could be so hot but feel so cold. Like, okay, he understood the concept of a fever, but it still didn’t make the paradoxical sensation any easier to bear. He shivered miserably.
Robin bustled into the room a moment later, carrying a soft sherpa blanket in a scrambled heap, as if she’d yanked it from its neatly folded position in the main bedroom linen closet in a rush. Steve was certain this was absolutely the case.
“Heyy, buddy,” she started, still a little on edge but evidently happy to be done with that tumultuous car journey. “You should get under this blanket. You know what – lemme just…”
Initially thrusting the bundle of fabric at Steve, she seemed to change her mind and took it upon herself to wrap the blanket round him – even tucking it closer when it threatened to slip down his shoulders. Steve felt himself blushing a little and hoped that it wouldn’t be all too obvious on top of his fever-flushed complexion. He and Robin had cuddled together on occasion, sure – they’d held hands, too, discovering the contact felt reassuring and natural – but this level of intimacy and caretaking was something he’d never experienced – from anyone, really, but especially not from her. Her usual style was more sarcastic one-liners, name-calling and gentle shoves. To be fussed over by anyone was hard for him to accept, so it felt more than a little daunting at the hands of his best friend - purely because it felt so alien. One tentative glance at Robin confirmed that she must have been feeling pretty similarly awkward herself.
“Okay. I ordered us pizza – I know soup would probably be better, yeah, I realised that after I hung up the phone, shit – but anyway, that’s dinner. I’m gonna get you some water and Tylenol – maybe tea? Do you want tea?”
He couldn’t help but smile at how endearingly unnatural she was finding this. He knew if he was in her shoes she’d be wrapped up, propped up, fed and medicated 10 minutes ago. He’d still be brimming with anxious energy but that would be the natural result of the helplessness he’d feel that he couldn’t take away her discomfort on the spot. That she was trying, really, honestly trying, made his heart swell.
“Um, no tea, Robs. I don’t even know if we have any. Could you get me a cold compress for my head, maybe?”
Her eyes widened for a moment before they rolled back into her head dramatically, and she slapped a hand to her forehead.
“Uh, yes, of course I can do that – can’t believe I haven’t already. Sorry, Steve, just a minute – “ She was already halfway out the door by the time she finished.
“Robin, you don’t need to run – I’m okay!” He called out after her, regretting it almost immediately as his throat seized and he was thrown forward with a violent fit of coughing. He attempted to muffle it into one blanketed hand, shielding his mouth with the fabric. As if he didn’t feel disgusting enough already, he felt a tickle blossoming deep in his sinuses, so quickly that almost the moment he finished hacking he was gasping deeply in preparation for the oncoming explosion.
“Hh’Ohh goddDD’TTSSSHHHIEWWW!! HXXT’SHIEWWWW!! HAH’RRRRSHHHH’UU!! Oh…”
He shuddered and gingerly pulled his nose back from the now sodden fabric, clinging to the palm of his hand under the weight of the mess. Cursing, he scrambled to pull his other hand free of the blanket, snatching a handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table that he now regrettably wished he’d had half the mind to reach for sooner. Eddie’s bandana might have been a relief at first, but it was now so thoroughly sneezed and snorted into that it lay useless and dejected in Steve’s laundry hamper.
“Bless you, Dingus!” Robin called out from somewhere in the house.
He didn’t bother calling back, not wanting to trigger a repeat performance of that entirely disgusting display. At least the sneezes had felt halfway relieving – though very productive, the results of which he frantically scrubbed from the soggy patch of blanket. After he’d done all he could, he sighed and attempted to snuggle back into the couch cushions. ‘Attempt’ being the operative word, here – the Harrington household couches were much like everything else in the joint: carefully selected to signal a certain degree of cold and detached classiness, more like a showroom than a home. The Buckley household was much more inviting. Hell, even the couch at the Munson trailer was effortlessly comfortable, even with the creaky springs that prodded you as you moved.
He wondered what Eddie was doing now – planning for a campaign? Playing guitar? Some party, somewhere? He hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of days, come to think of it. He realised suddenly that he really wanted to talk to him. More than that, he just wanted to listen. Even with this persistent headache, he wanted to sit back just like this, eyes closed in surrender, and let Eddie ramble away about whatever he pleased. It didn’t really matter what was said as long as it was him saying it. These thoughts, though initially soothing and pleasant, very quickly became a source of gnawing emotional pain that Steve refused to address a moment longer. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, feeling embarrassed and pathetic.
“Hey, I got that compress – you wanna – oh, you’re already leaning back, good.” Robin was at his side again, gently sweeping back his sweaty bangs and resting the cool, damp towel on his forehead. He felt the relief of it instantly, humming softly and focusing in on the sensation until the troubling thoughts of Eddie started to fade.
“That feel good?” Robin asked softly, sitting down next to him.
“Mm. Yeah. Th’nks.” He muttered, reaching a hand out of his cocoon and squeezing her wrist in appreciation.
“You wanna stay like that for a while ‘til the pizza gets here?”
“Mm’hmm.”
“Cool. Can I put something on? Anything you want. I’ll keep the volume low.”
“I don’t mind, if you don’t mind me not really paying attention.”
Robin laughed.
“As if you pay attention to anything I suggest, anyway.”
“Hey!” He smiled despite himself. “You can’t say I don’t try.”
“Oh, I can, and I will.”
She laughed again as he weakly punched her arm.
“Just stay with me, please?” He asked, a little shocked by the naked sincerity of the request as it tumbled out of him.
“Of course, Steve. Where else would I go?”
~~~~~~
After they’d finished their pizza – Steve far less than he would have liked, the normally delicious cheese seeming extra congealed and greasy – Robin had put on some artsy film that Steve tried his best to follow but was sure he’d have had a hard time with on a regular day, let alone one where he was starting to feel like jello in the form of a human. They gradually cuddled closer together, interrupted only by Steve twisting himself away from Robin each and every time he felt a sneeze coming on. It had reached the point where she’d told him to cut it out and sit still.
“You’re gonna give yourself whiplash on top of your cold. Seriously, stop.”
“But I’ll – end up sneezing on you.”
She’d sighed in defeat.
“Then do that. I’m catching this anyway.”
His cheeks burned a little at that.
“Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be like, super gross?”
“As long as you use the blanket or tissues, it won’t be all bad.”
And Steve had used both the blanket and the tissues – for a little while, anyway. He soon had his head in her lap, propped up by a cushion she’d added for his comfort. He wasn’t facing her, at least, so every germ-filled blast was aimed squarely at the table in front of them. If she felt the spray settling on her thighs or knees, she said nothing. To his utter delight, she’d started to rhythmically card a hand through his hair, making him feel for all the world like a spoiled little lapdog. Her endearing clumsiness was nowhere to be found as she expertly dragged her nails across his scalp. He’d have been asleep long ago if it wasn’t for this…t-tickle-!
“HH!! ‘GGTSCHEWWWW!! HARRRUSHHHH!! Hh, HH-!”
The third and final sneeze seemed to elude him, teasing him fiercely enough that his bleary eyes were beading with tears. He was more than grateful that Robin couldn’t watch his face as it crumpled – the way his nostrils twitched, mouth dropping open as his tongue pressed against his bottom teeth in a silent prayer, begging for the tickle to crest.
At last he was granted some reprieve, and three choppy inhales later he was barrelling forward, sneezing violently over Robin’s knees.
“hHAAHHH’GCK’TCHIEWWWWwww!!!”
He felt her other hand reach out and steady him by the shoulder as his body threatened to roll off the couch with the sheer force of it.
“Jesus, Dingus, Bless you!!”
“Ugg. Tha’gk you…” He snuffled miserably. The sneeze had felt amazing but he still felt bad about repeatedly spraying his best friend with an endless torrent of germs.
A bundle of tissues was suddenly hovering before his eyes as Robin held them out over him. He took them gratefully, muttering a small ‘thanks’ before blowing as hard as he possibly could. It was gnarly – loud, thick and rounded off with a honk not unfamiliar to the trumpet warm-ups Robin had subjected him to as she practiced in the guest room last night.
“God, Steve. Talk about man flu.” She patted his shoulder good-naturedly.
“I know. I’m sorry.” He meant it, too.
“No, you’re good. Don’t even worry about it. Just try not to die on me, okay? You’re heavy.”
“Promise.”
The glorious head massage resumed, and finally, blessedly, Steve felt himself slipping into a heavy sleep.
~~~~~
Robin pulled Steve’s bedroom door shut with a gentle click – not that her efforts at silence would matter, given the heart-breakingly congested snores Steve was already emitting from under his duvet. She headed to the bathroom and started her nighttime routine. Looking at herself in the stupidly ornate mirror of Steve’s guestroom ensuite, she noticed she looked just as tired as she felt – maybe moreso. She knew it was too early to be catching Steve’s cold – had to be, right? The incubation period was just too short. Realistically, she just looked worn down from the strain of an entire evening of worrying about Steve – who had, no doubt in her mind, possibly the worst cold on the face of the planet.
She finished washing her face, almost forgetting to rinse it properly as her mind wandered. Was he really that sick, or was he just one of those men for whom a tiny little bug brought them to their knees in one fell swoop? It was probably the latter – though he really did look, and sound, miserably unwell. The temperature emanating from his body as he’d rested in her lap had been scorching – she’d been sweltering in the combined warmth of the pleasant May evening and Steve’s furnace-like condition. Steve hadn’t noticed, at least; if he had, he’d been kind enough to ignore the massive pit stains that dampened her t-shirt.
She’d let him sleep for a while – 45 minutes, just until her movie ended and her legs had fallen asleep – then she’d woken him up with a gentle hand to the forehead. 10 minutes later, she’d successfully helped a groggy, snotty Steve up to his bedroom. That they’d nearly tripped heading upstairs as Steve buckled forward with several wrenching sneezes was just a minor inconvenience. Once he’d gotten into bed and she’d tucked the blanket up to his chin, she’d returned with the damp washcloth – using ice water this time, draping it over his burning forehead. He was shockingly pliant, incredibly obedient – the total lack of hyper-independence and stubbornness a sure sign of how poorly he was feeling.
After brushing her teeth she padded back downstairs, locating the living room landline. She had a feeling Steve would only feel worse tomorrow, and she’d underestimated how many meds and tissues he would need. She could probably bike out to the Drugstore herself, but something about Steve’s condition made her want to be in the house with him at all times. Call it trauma, separation anxiety, whatever – it was tough seeing him hurt and weak, and in their relatively short friendship it felt like he’d had decades worth of bad luck. A lifetime of it, probably. And besides, what if his dumb ass sneezed himself down the stairs and broke his neck when she was gone? No. It was too risky.
She dialed the familiar number and waited. The nearby clock indicated it was about 1:45 AM. The middle of the night for some, but not for who she had in mind.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Eddie?”
“Hey, Birdie! What’s got you calling little old me at this frightful hour?”
She smiled despite herself. His charm was undeniable - as cheesy as it often was, it was still disarming and soothing. She was glad to have had the fortune of getting to know him under more…relaxed circumstances following their initial meeting, where she’d been convinced she’d found the only other person more prone to floundering, nervous breakdowns than herself.
“Figured you’d be awake for at least another 3 hours. Can you talk for a minute?”
“Sure, shoot. I was just fucking with my guitar anyway.”
“Kinky.”
“Watch it, Buckley.”
She grinned, knowing he’d be doing just the same on the other end of the line.
“I actually need to ask you for a favour, if that’s okay?”
“Oh?” He sounded pointedly curious, like this was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “Are you okay? Need a ride, or something?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I’m at Steve’s – remember I’ve been staying here this week?”
“Oh, yeah. Speaking of Stevie boy, how is he? Haven’t heard from him in, like, three days?”
She smirked. The two of them thought they were so fucking subtle with this shit, and as much as she wanted to let them figure it out on their own, she couldn’t help but poke the proverbial bear every now and then.
“Three days?? My god, that must be like three months in Eddie time.”
“Fuck off!” He was laughing, at least.
“That’s just the thing though, actually. It’s Steve, he’s – “
“What’s wrong? Is he hurt??”
She was so glad he couldn’t see her face right now. He was painfully, painfully transparent and it was the funniest, sweetest thing.
“He’s fine, you geek – not in any immediate danger. He’s just sick. Got the worst case of man flu probably, like, ever.”
Eddie was silent long enough that Robin wondered if their call had been disconnected.
“Eddie? You there?”
“Oh – yeah, sorry, just spacing out a little, ha ha!”
The forced laugh was…strange. But she chose to ignore it – he was probably stoned, at any rate.
“So, since he’s sick, I was wondering if tomorrow you could possibly pick up some meds and stuff for him? I really don’t want to leave him alone like this. He sneezed so hard before he nearly threw both of us down the stairs. If I leave him unattended who knows how else he might sneeze himself to an early demise?”
She ended her ramble with a small laugh, hoping to amuse Eddie and bring some levity to the situation. Instead, she was greeted with that same awkward silence, though it expired a little faster than last time.
“Oh man, that sounds – yeah, that would totally suck. Poor guy.”
It wasn’t the raucous laughter she’d been expecting at all. Eddie sounded – could it really be? Embarrassed?
“Are you okay? You sound weird.” She asked.
“I’m-! I’m fine, Birdie. Just. Pretty high.”
She’d figured as much, but somehow, she didn’t quite buy it. Whatever. Eddie was great, but she still didn’t fully understand him and his often confoundingly strange mannerisms just yet.
“Anyway. You think you can do that for me? I’d majorly appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah – I can totally do that. What time should I – drop stuff off?”
“Honestly, before lunch? The rate at which Steve is going through tissues is worthy of scientific observation.”
Eddie offered a reedy laugh at that – she’d expected that attempt at humour to dive like before, been ready for another awkward little pause. She would have almost preferred that to this obviously forced attempt at normal laughter. It wasn’t as if Eddie didn’t have a sense of humour, or know how to laugh like a human being, so? Man, he must be really high.
“So…I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll be there. I…probably won’t come inside. I mean, don’t want to disturb poor old Harrington, y’know?”
She blinked.
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind?”
“Really, Robin, if I want to graduate in a month, I can’t get sick. I won’t face celebrating my 21st year still stuck in that fucking dump.”
It made sense, what he was saying. But again, she just didn’t buy that that was the sole reason for this extremely out of character avoidance of Steve.
“Sure. Well, I’ll see you, then.”
“See you tomorrow, Birdie. Sleep tight.”
She hung up on him, taking a second to stand there and letting the absurdity of his behaviour wash over her before she made her way back upstairs. She was far too tired to even attempt to analyse the inner machinations of Eddie fucking Munson right now – tired enough that even Steve’s woeful snoring couldn’t stop her from passing out the second her head hit the pillow.
#The fic is based in May so it's not technically a traditional 'Warm Night In' - hope that's ok!!#Steve accounts for 99% of the 'Warm' part lol#oh also since canonical ages are never given I think the general consensus is at this point Robin is almost about to graduate aged 18#Steve has graduated and is 19 - Eddie is due to graduate and is 20#s/tranger t/hings#nametakenfic#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz kink#snzfucker#sneeze fucker#snz fet#snzblr
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Come Here (S/teddie)
Decided to go off of this idea here and cooked up 3.4k of S/teve and E/ddie fucking 💕
E/ddie decides to tease S/teve with some quick inducing one hot summer day
~~~~~
Content:
M/M, established relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, manually induced sneezing, mentions of allergy sneezing, mentions of handjobs, dry humping, blowjobs, masturbation, spray, a little tiny mention of mess, sneezing on someone's face, teasing, nose rubbing, nose blowing, some tiiiny sprinkles of foot fetish stuff (my bad), they are both very sweaty lol
CW: nothing especially? E/ddie is playing with S/teve but they're both completely into it, S/teve is very handsy
~~~~~~
NSFW, minors please DNI!
“Stevieee.”
Lying on Eddie’s bed in a spread-eagle position, Steve was pulled out of the depths of his semi-conscious afternoon doze by the insistent neediness of his boyfriend’s voice.
“Yeah?” He called out, rubbing his eyes groggily with the heels of his palms.
“C’mere.”
Steve sighed. Moving was the last thing he wanted to do. They were in peak summertime heat, and the Munson trailer had very little in the way of functional air conditioning. It was fine if he was permitted to lie around like a spoilt house cat, but Eddie was energetic today. Granted, he was always energetic – but this was a lot even for him, given the veritable furnace-like atmosphere they were sweltering in. He’d only been able to snag this little nap because Eddie had been so preoccupied with some fantasy novel or other, eyes flying over the words in the thick tome without pause. Not much interested in books and even less interested in watching somebody else read one, Steve had slunk away to sweat a man-shaped puddle onto Eddie’s sheets.
“Baaaby boy. I said come heeere.”
Steve’s eyes snapped open again, and he realised he had already started to dose off in those 10 seconds or so of sleepy contemplation. He knew Eddie wouldn’t stop, so with no small amount of effort he pulled himself to his feet and staggered in the direction of the living room.
He looked at Eddie through bleary eyes, an apathetic expression plastered to his face in sharp contrast with the beatific grin his boyfriend wore. They were both shirtless, dressed only in boxers. It was way too fucking hot for much more, and Eddie had only been persuaded to keep his underwear on after Steve insisted on it. He didn’t think Wayne would appreciate a great big ass-shaped sweat stain on his sofa, and Eddie had had to agree, if not reluctantly.
“What is it, Eds?” He mumbled, making his way over to sit on the couch next to the older man. Eddie promptly stopped him with a hand to the chest.
“Nope. No sitting for you.” Eddie smiled up at him.
Steve blinked, taking in the mischievous twinkle in those big brown eyes, and the electricity sparked by their mutual gaze woke him up the rest of the way faster than a shot of espresso. Oh. So it was like that. The boner he’d sustained in his sleep, though it had been flagging in the miserable heat, gave an interested little twitch. He smiled back as Eddie started to play absently with his chest hair, waiting to hear what he had in mind.
“How about you kneel for me, huh? Right here.”
Eddie gestured at the space on the floor between his spread legs. And sure. Steve could do that. He dropped to his knees, maintaining eye contact with his boyfriend as he did so. Eddie’s smile widened, all teeth and eyes crinkled at the corners, evidently very pleased with how easily Steve was willing to play along. He swung one arm over the back of the sofa; Steve watched the slight rippling of lean muscle as he moved.
“Great job, big boy.” Eddie praised him in a lilted, singsong like manner. Steve smirked.
“Thank you. I studied really hard for all my obedience classes.”
Eddie’s smile widened as he reached behind a couch cushion.
“Could have fooled me, Harrington. Always talking back, always sassing me.”
“Just following your example, I guess.” Steve shrugged, a little distracted from the verbal back-and-forth as he focused in on Eddie’s right hand – and more importantly, what he clutched between his forefinger and thumb. He opened his mouth to enquire, but Eddie was quick to interrupt him.
“Shhh, Steve.”
He didn’t offer any explanation, and Steve’s eyebrow raised in scepticism. It was only when Eddie began to move his right hand up to his face, and Steve recognised the small item in his grip, that he found himself genuinely wordless with anticipation. The small clothing tag had become a regular and happy edition to their sex life now that they had become comfortable enough to indulge in their mutual fetish. He had to admit there had been a little more reluctance on his part, but not for lack of desire; he often felt like his body was too tiny and mortal to contain the levels of excitement he experienced being around Eddie on a daily basis, let alone when he was sneezing for his – their – pleasure.
His sweaty cheeks were already flushed by the heat, but they darkened a little all the same. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his stomach full of butterflies. More importantly, his genitals were making themselves very well known, pitching a solid tent in his boxers in seconds. Eddie was looking at him through heavy lidded eyes with an almost predatory expression of hunger. Steve could relate; he loved when Eddie was equally as responsive and pliant for him. Still didn’t stop him from feeling just a little embarrassed at his own uncontrollable eagerness, though.
Eddie flashed him one last grin before slipping the little tag into his right nostril and beginning to tease. He was so sensitive, Steve thought with immense appreciation. The rim of the metalhead’s nostril twitched even before the tool was inserted, as if in lusty preparation for the tickle to come. As Eddie probed himself, both nostrils began to flare in earnest. He was a pro at this, and Steve knew it would only be a matter of seconds before the first sneeze would come trembling out of him. His allergies had been behaving today, likely because they had been sweltering inside with every window firmly shut. It didn’t mean they were completely under control, and they’d both ushered in the morning with gentle, rolling orgasms, courtesy of Eddie’s morning sneezes and both of their hands. By the cringing expression that was beginning to crumple his features as Steve looked up at him through unblinking eyes, his sinuses were as easily irritable as ever.
One final, shuddering inhale later and the metalhead was pitching forward with a ticklish little fit.
“Hh-HH! HDdt’TSsieww!! Ehdt’TChieww!! Hah’ESHH’ieww!! ‘TShhieww!! EhH’NGXtshh!!”
Steve couldn’t help it as he let out a closed-mouth moan, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Eddie had purposely leaned forward more than the natural propulsion of his fit, and so Steve had felt every droplet of the fine aerosol each sneeze pushed out of his boyfriend. He had tilted his head back ever so slightly, letting the sneezes mist his neck and chest. The cool kiss of spray felt even better than usual on his heated skin, and he shivered, breaking out all over in a pleasurable rush of goosebumps.
“Bless you,” He sighed. He wanted to reach out and grab for Eddie, but his boyfriend didn’t even so much as acknowledge that he had spoken to him, slipping the tool right back into his waiting nostril. Steve placed his restless hands on his own thighs, digging his fingernails into the muscular flesh just shy of breaking the skin.
Eddie tickled himself, gasping intermittently as Steve watched him in a dreamy haze, feeling like his bones had been replaced with jelly. He normally only felt this loose post-orgasm, but the combination of sweltering heat, his recent unconsciousness and the unexpectedness of this game left him loopy and soft.
Steve barely had to wait before the next round of sneezes was raining down upon him, the last few so unbearably tickly his boyfriend’s left leg jerked off the ground as they overpowered him.
“hh’NgXt’shieww! HAH’ENGXtch’tsieww!! IGSH’ieww!! Huh’IgKkShieww!! ESHhh’ieww! ‘DDZz’SHieww!!...Ahh, holy fuck, that felt good…”
Eddie sighed, looking about as wiped out as Steve felt. The younger man was happy to see that the metalhead was sporting an impressive erection, pressing up against his boxers and leaking a little through the fabric. His own cock jumped in response, and he swallowed down a sudden deluge of saliva as he drooled at the sight like a fucking dog.
“Fucking bless you, Eddie!” He moaned, fingers flexing as he continued to kneel in front of his sniffling boyfriend.
Eddie didn’t respond this time either, just rubbed at his tickly nose with the palm of his left hand, mashing it around roughly for a couple of moments. The wet clicking sounds the action produced made Steve throb again. He could feel the head of his cock dripping, now.
He jumped at the sudden feeling of Eddie’s heel pressing into his crotch, groaning in equal measures surprise and arousal. It was only for a fleeting moment, a cruel little nudge before Eddie placed his foot back on the ground, thighs spread even wider. Steve tried not to think too hard about how good the pressure had felt, about how much he would have liked to grip Eddie’s ankle and rut back against him. The older man laughed softly at the look of Steve’s wide-eyed incredulity, but then simply returned the tag to his nostril again, barely a pause as he worked on his next fit.
Steve wouldn’t take that shit sitting – or kneeling – down. He pressed forward, torso up against the couch cushions between Eddie’s legs, and gripped each pale thigh firmly before yanking Eddie slightly towards him. Eddie didn’t stop him; he continued to tease himself until his chest swelled with a definitive breath, forced out of him moments later with another attack of spraying, tickly sneezes.
“Hit’TSCH’hieww!! HdT’TScchieww!! EhD’TSchhiew!! ISHhh’ieww!! Hh-! Hah’ISCHHtt!!”
Steve’s eyes closed reflexively, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as those sneezes caught him squarely in the face. He sighed, shuddering slightly with adrenaline. This always felt so, so good. He was moments away from shamelessly fucking the couch where his cock pressed up against the worn cushion.
“Bless you, baby.”
Eddie sighed, a distinctly orgasmic and dramatic sigh, sinking back into the couch and luxuriating in the sensation of his own sneezes. Steve liked to sneeze, couldn’t really help the little fetish-fueled rush it gave him, but he wasn’t one to get off to the sensation itself. That Eddie did, admitted to him that sneezing alone, not even someone else’s, could make him cum – it just about made Steve’s head explode every time he thought about it.
“Thank you, Stevie.”
Steve peered up at his face, took in the way Eddie was watching him from under his dark eyelashes. Eddie was addressing him directly now, acknowledging his blessing. He reached for the metalhead’s cock, figuring if he still wasn’t allowed to touch, his boyfriend would be sure to let him know. And, yeah – immediately his searching hand was being redirected, placed right back on Eddie’s thigh. Steve bit the inside of his cheek and swallowed a low whine, feeling as though he was losing his mind just a little bit – even more so as Eddie reached up to tease his nostril again, barely skimming the rim before another set of irritated sneezes burst out of him.
“Hh’EHhTT’TCHieww!! IGSHhh’IEWw!! Hah’EScHh’IEww!!....IISCHhhhhh!”
That lingering, definitive sneeze was so incredibly desperate, so high pitched as it misted over Steve’s face that the resultant shiver of pleasure that rolled down his spine had his hips thrusting involuntarily against the couch. It had been a pretty wet sneeze, too – Steve reached out with a large hand to wipe away the little dribble of saliva that dampened Eddie’s bottom lip. The intimacy of it made both of them moan.
“God bless you. You’re so sneezy, honey. So hot.”
He was getting bolder, incrementally, with every time that they fucked, but Steve couldn’t help cringing just a little at the sound of those words leaving his mouth – even if the giddy rush of arousal they produced was intoxicating. He could handle the embarrassment, however, as long as his words continued to have the effect on Eddie they had evidently just done. His boyfriend almost whimpered, squirming in his seat, cock rock-hard and begging to be touched. Steve was dying. He wanted his hands on Eddie more than he’d ever wanted anyone else’s hands on him – and he always wanted hands on him.
“Mm, thank you. Tickles so much.”
Steve swore and reached for Eddie’s cock, groaning like a petulant toddler when he was once again denied with a quick slap to the wrist. His hands gripped into the flesh of his boyfriend’s thighs, flexing intermittently in restless irritation.
“Eddie,” Steve groaned, voice strained and gravelly.
Eddie said nothing, but as he made to slip the inducing tool right back into his nose, something in Steve snapped. He yanked Eddie forward with a hand behind his knee, causing the older man to yelp in surprise, before manoeuvring the captured leg between his thighs and pressing his straining cock against the older man’s shin. It wasn’t an ideal body part to hump – a soft thigh, an ass, a crotch were all infinitely preferable. Even the sole of Eddie’s foot, the arch of it, pressing up against his cock…but this would have to do. He was pushing his luck as it was.
He started to buck his hips, wishing he was fucking his boyfriend’s ass, imagining the tight clench of muscles around him. Gripping the sweaty skin behind Eddie’s knee was making the angle a little easier, and he found a rhythm faster than he’d expected to.
“Fucking hell, Stevie!” Eddie giggled, pressing his leg up, hard, squashing Steve’s cock and balls between the limb and his own body. Steve gasped – it felt awful and wonderful all at once, and then the pressure was gone and he was pushing himself forward, chasing the contact as if possessed.
“So sensitive.”
Steve huffed at him.
“Shut up. This all your fault, Munson.” He stared up at Eddie. “Look at what you fucking do to me.”
The look that Eddie gave him as he took in the sight of him, the nakedness of his desperation, was so loaded with emotion – burning desire, fondness, awe – that Steve almost swooned with the resultant rush of blood to his already swollen cock.
“Yeah. All my fault...” Eddie muttered, sounding breathless and ruined. Steve wished their chests were pushed together so he could feel the feverish beating of Eddie’s heart, the rapid in and outs of his laboured breathing.
When Eddie raised the tool back up to his nostril, Steve nearly came on the spot. He managed to hold back, gritting his teeth and choking back a strangled ‘fuckkk!’ He wanted to time it just right, bust a nut inside his boxers right as Eddie was showering him with spray. It was going to be an intense orgasm, judging by the way his entire body was beginning to heat up, so, so hot, sweat prickling on his skin as his universe narrowed down to the throbbing in his cock and the sight of his boyfriend’s twitchy pink nostrils.
Eddie’s face crumpled, tongue pressing against his bottom lip as the sneezes built, tickling himself in earnest. His chest jumped with violent hitching breaths, a single tear of irritation beginning to roll down the side of his face. It was so painfully erotic Steve couldn’t catch his breath – the oncoming orgasm leaving him stupid and operating on animalistic impulse alone. He felt his balls drawing up in preparation, felt the coiling pressure in his belly tightening, ready to explode in a euphoric release.
Eddie gasped – a huge, desperate intake of air that sounded almost pained as he pressed the clothing tag as deep into his nostril as he could. He held it there, frozen for an intoxicating moment, the cresting tickle as monumental as Steve’s approaching orgasm. When he did sneeze, they barrelled out of him, an intense rush of both air and sound, overpowering Steve’s senses and ushering his orgasm in so abruptly he yelled with it.
“HUH-!! HHIIISSHHH’IEww!! HahDT’TScHieww!! ENGXT’TSchieww!! IGSSHh!! Hh! HuH’ISSSH’Ieww!! EhH’NGXT’Tschieww!! DDZ’Zshieww-! Heh!! Hahdt’TSSCH’IEWww!!”
Steve came throughout, twitching helplessly, his face a twisted rictus of ecstasy. The sweet, throbbing pleasure of it pulsed through him, cock spitting cum into his underwear, soaked and sticking to the skin of his boyfriend’s leg. He finished cumming in time to tip forward and press his head against Eddie’s thigh, mouth still frozen in an ‘o’ of pleasure, as Eddie sneezed one last time over the expanse of his back. He groaned as the aerosol rained gently across his spine, thoroughly sneezed on and contented in a way only his fetish could make him.
“Ohh fuckkk…” He muttered after a moment, drooling a little onto the soft, pale skin pressed up against his face. Eddie laughed breathily.
“You’re welcome.” He sniffled, the sound of it ominously thick.
Steve gingerly raised his head, feeling almost drunk in the oppressive heat of the room and the closeness of their bodies. Eddie had covered his nose and mouth with a hand, and Steve knew those last few sneezes had been productive.
“Do you need a tissue, baby? Made a mess?”
Eddie nodded, eyes smiling over the protective cradle of his hand.
“Sure.” Another thick sniffle that had Steve’s cock twitching almost painfully with a pitiful, post-orgasm spasm. “But I think you made a bigger one.”
Steve blushed, sighing and pulling himself up on shaky legs. God, that had felt good. He’d practically painted the inside of his underwear, Eddie was right about that. He smiled a goofy, sated smile at Eddie before making his way over to the bedroom. He considered his messy state for a moment, then simply shrugged before removing his underwear and wiping his cock on the clean parts of the fabric. He sighed in over sensitised pleasure; he was still hard and it felt great to stroke himself. He indulged for a few moments longer before flinging his underwear onto the pile of dirty laundry on the floor and returning to the living room, entirely naked and box of tissues in hand.
Eddie was fumbling his left hand over his crotch, pawing lazily at his straining erection as his right hand remained covering his face. Steve’s cock gave an appreciative twitch at the sight of it. He knew in that moment that he wanted his boyfriend to finish in his mouth. He proffered the box to Eddie, waiting for the older man to reach up and take it before he returned to a kneeling position between his legs. As Eddie pulled back his hand, Steve caught sight of the glistening mess underneath for just a moment, and then the metalhead was scrubbing himself clean and indulging in a long, crackling blow. It ended with an awkwardly loud honk that had the pair of them locking eyes and giggling like stupid kids.
When he was done, Eddie simply let himself melt back into the couch.
“That was fun.” He drawled, eyes closed and head tilted back. Steve’s hand crawled up the inside of his thigh. “Did you like that?”
Steve snorted.
“Did I like that? You drained me dry, dude. That felt so fucking good.”
“Yay.” Eddie offered, the corners of his mouth turning up with a smug little smile.
Steve began to pull Eddie’s underwear down, and the older man cooperated by lifting his ass off the couch.
“Not going to slap my hand away this time?” Steve half-heartedly joked, pupils blown wide at the sight of Eddie’s leaking, solid cock. He was salivating in moments, leaning forward and inhaling the scent of him deeply. The press of sweaty pubic hair against his face as he nestled his nose up against the base of his boyfriend’s cock was familiar and intoxicating. Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation, and Steve knew his arousal was fueled partially by the promise of a blowjob, but even more so out of the suggestible proximity of his pointed nose against his genitals.
“Go to town, honey. I’m not stopping you.”
Steve smiled, kissed his way up the length of Eddie’s cock before pressing his tongue into the slit of his urethra. Eddie uttered a garbled, broken moan, hips bucking uncontrollably and cock head leaking fluid in response.
“You know,” Steve started after licking his palm and wrapping it around Eddie’s sweaty shaft. “Normal people just ask for blowjobs when they want one without the pretence of sneezing all over their boyfriend.” He took the head of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, licking it a couple of times like a melting popsicle before sucking on it, hard.
“Ohh, Stevie…..my way is so much more – ahh! More fun-!” Eddie choked out, fingers reaching out to wrap themselves in Steve’s floppy hair.
Steve couldn’t disagree in the least, replaying the sights and sounds of his boyfriend’s sneezing in his mind as he sucked him down like he was best damn thing he’d ever tasted.
#so much for keeping this around 2k lol#i triiiied!! please take this offering whilst I drag out my longer fics OTL#s/tranger t/hings#nametakenfic#sneeze fic#sneeze fucker#snz fucker#snz kink#sneeze kink#snz fet#snzblr
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Lovely Mess (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)
I wrote this really quickly but then had a week full of interruptions before being able to edit it - but anyway, here's 2.3k of H/arry and J/ean being gross 🥰
Pre-Martinaise, Pre-amnesia H/arry gets J/ean to indulge him in the archive rooms of the station. Things gets messy (literally)
~~~~~
Content:
M/M, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, J/ean gets off on indulging him, manually induced sneezes, mentions of hay fever, rapid sneezes, dry humping, prelude to anal sex, anal fingering, spray, sneezing on someone, LOTS of mess, graphic descriptions of mess, verbal teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, embarrassment/humiliation, nose blowing, handkerchiefs
CW: Mess (I mean it), complicated/toxic relationship, abusive language, mentions of alcohol abuse, H/arry is extremely pushy, J/ean should love himself a little bit more, rough sex, degrading language directed towards the fetish, H/arry spits on J/ean's asshole, they're both idiots who enable each other's worst behaviour even if they do care deeply for each other
NSFW - Minors DNI!
“Hhd’Tishh!! ‘TTtsch’uu! Kt’tssch’iew!! Ttsschh’uu!!”
Jean rocked forward helplessly, shivering as each sneeze seemed only to aggravate the tickle rather than alleviate it. Of course, said tickle could only truly be assuaged if the source of its insistence was removed. Given that the reason he was sneezing himself stupid was because of Harry’s greedy and merciless inducing, he didn’t have much faith that he’d find relief any time soon.
“Fuck, Jean! Bless you!”
And there it was. Jean’s face heated at the blessing Harry all but moaned, already pinkened by the supreme effort of releasing an endless stream of tickly little sneezes. Every time he pondered these affairs with a clear head not clouded by impending or recently completed orgasm – when he analysed the situation objectively, the way in which Harry would pester him and he would indulge - he often wondered why he gave in at all. But without fail, the second Harry would approach him, all heated eyes and wandering hands, Jean would cave. Harry might be the deviant with the obscure fetish, but then what did that make him? What was his excuse for all the many times he would get so worked up over the attention he’d end up cumming harder and faster than Harry?
Harry smiled at him, drunk with arousal and power (and yes, okay, the Irish coffee Jean had watched him fix himself this morning). Jean shouldn’t let him treat him like a plaything, not really, but at the very least with Harry, he cared – which was more than could be said about some of the other men (and women) he had permitted to fuck him. He may have a shitty way of showing it half the time, the selfish maniac, but he at least had the decency to express remorse when he did happen to hurt Jean. And it wasn’t as if Jean was an angel. He dished out plenty of hurt himself. It was the nature of their partnership, and of their friendship. Go hard or go home, no in-betweens. Which was probably another reason why Jean was pressed up against the uncomfortable shelves of the archive room, his superior officer’s muscular thigh wedged securely between his own whilst he clutched at him for support, spraying Harry with each and every sneeze that was tortured out of him.
Harry jiggled the little wire he used for such occasions against the wall of Jean’s irritated nostril, and Jean heard the shuddering sigh of anticipation the older man couldn’t hold back as he watched his nostrils twitch and flare. It barely took any motion at all now to push him over the edge. He inhaled, a short, desperate little exclamation of breath before he was sneezing again, all over Harry’s hand, his wrist, and catching his face and shirt.
“Hupt’Tschu! Hhk’TsschUu! Hpt’tshh!-Tschh-Tschtt!! Hht-! Hh’AHtt’Tschhieww!! Putain…”
Harry groaned appreciatively, rocking his hips with each ticklish release. His cock was rock solid as he pressed against the younger man, and just the sensation of that huge erection prodding into him made Jean whine. He wanted Harry to bend him over and fuck him five minutes ago, already. He snuffled reflexively, and that was enough to send him over the edge for another violent triple.
“IhKk’TschHh!! Hh’itshiew!! Hgk’TISHh’ieww!!”
To his utter embarrassment, that final sneeze had been an incredibly messy affair alongside the regular dousing of spray. There now hung two small trails of clear mess, dripping down over his moustache.
“Fuck,” He murmured, blushing violently and reaching up to hide the display, even though Harry would have seen it, could not have missed it, watching him sneeze as he was through unblinking, starstruck eyes.
Jean bristled with indignation as Harry suddenly gripped his wrist and pinned it to his side, halting his attempt to clean himself up. He tried with his other hand, the one that had been gripping Harry’s bicep, but it was no use. That he worked out obsessively and had the body to show for it meant nothing in the face of the older man’s years of hardwired athleticism, even now that he used his arms to lift bottles of beer to his lips more than anything else. He could only stare daggers back at Harry, hoping to cow him into submission. Perhaps this would have worked at a time when Harry’s entire being wasn’t concentrated in the girthy length of his cock. But it was, and so it didn’t.
“Let go of me, you fucking maniac!” Jean spat, angry at Harry for merely smirking back at him and angrier at himself for finding that it made him even hotter.
“Nope. Nuh-uh. Not until you promise you’ll leave yourself alone.”
Jean blinked at him.
“I’ve got fucking snot running down my face, you moron, and it’s your fault. I’ll still fucking sneeze for you, just let me wipe it away.”
Harry didn’t budge. Jean felt his heart race when he realised that Harry’s eyes, pupils blown wide with arousal, were lingering over the sight of mess that was ever so gradually creeping down his face and threatening to slip over his closed lips. He sniffled thickly, nostrils flaring with effort, hoping to pull some of it away, but it barely made a difference. Harry exhaled, and Jean felt his cock twitching against his hip.
“You can clean up in a minute. Just. Keep going like that? I swear I’ll make it up to you.”
Jean knew he would, knew that Harry genuinely enjoyed making him cum, for all his flaws. He didn’t even care if it was a matter of machismo for the older man – he just wanted to have a fucking orgasm, and indulging Harry without resistance was the fastest way of getting one. He sniffled again, wincing just a little at the dense sound of it, before shaking Harry’s hands away and resting his own on the older man’s shoulders.
“Fine.” He grumbled, ignoring Harry’s toothy grin and tilting his head back slightly, nostrils already fluttering in anticipation. “Just don’t come crying to me when I make a mess of your fucking uniform.”
“I never do!” Harry eagerly replied, wasting no time in reinserting that devilish inducing tool.
Every little prod urged the tickle onwards with the most delicious building of pressure. Jean had never disliked the sensation of sneezing, but the sheer quantity of sneezes he was prone to, particularly with his hay fever, had somewhat desensitised him to how pleasurable of a reflex it truly was. He both hated and thrilled in the way Harry was brushing off on him, transforming a banal bodily function into something undeniably hedonistic.
One final prod of the tool, so devious and teasing that it brought fresh tears to his eyes, and Jean was buckling forward with the subsequent release.
“Hut’Tschuu!-Tish’iew!-Hh’tsSCHhuu!! Tishh’ieww-Tschtt!! Huh-! Kishh’uu! Dzsh’ieww!! Hhk’Tisshhiew!!”
There was no way he could open his eyes as the sneezes overwhelmed him, barely giving him a chance to breathe. He could feel himself approaching a desperate state of light-headedness, but damn it all, it felt so fucking good to purge the tickle, and the shameless moans Harry was making just elevated the eroticism to euphoric heights. He gave in to each sneeze, letting them do with him as they would. His cock throbbed and twitched in the painfully tight constraints of his trousers.
“IhGKk’Tschu!! Hgk’Tscch!!-Tshh-‘Tschieww!! Hupt’Tschh! Igk’Tshieww!! Tschh! Tsh! Hh-!”
Harry had at least removed that cruel little wire, and Jean could feel the sneezes winding down, perhaps due to lack of oxygen more than anything else. His breath scissored in and out of him, chest jumping with effort as he built up to one final, cleansing explosion.
“hhHAGk’TshHhieww!! Ah…”
Fuck. He was trembling, at last able to blink his bleary eyes open. His face felt hot with effort, tears streaming down his face as his breathing gradually evened out again.
“Ohh, Vic. Jean. Good boy.”
Harry murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to his burning cheek. Those words, predictably, went straight to his solid cock and he blushed right up to the tips of his ears. He was so, so embarrassingly easy.
When Harry pulled back, Jean took the time to assess the damage. His fit had dislodged no small amount of clear mess, built up over hours of aggravating hay fever and Harry’s ruthless tickling. It had spattered over Harry’s chest, some glittering in the chest hair that peaked out through the unbuttoned upper section of his shirt, the rest leaving specks of damp discolouration as his sneezes saturated the fabric. He looked down to where their legs locked, and even as he did so another drop spilled from the pinkened rim of one nostril to join the damage there. As with Harry’s shirt, the material stretched across his thigh was darkened with slippery moisture. Jean noticed he had even managed to sneeze, or drip, onto the straining material across Harry’s crotch, which throbbed happily as he regarded it.
He didn’t need a mirror to visualise the mess he had made of himself; he could feel the result of his body-shaking fit dripping past his moustache and over his lips, down to his bearded chin. Judging by the damp sensation of his shirt clinging to his pectorals, he’d definitely drenched parts of his own chest as well.
The droplet that had recently escaped now gathered anew, hanging precariously in place. Harry had noticed, because how could he not, and he took the opportunity to tease Jean’s sensitive nostril, ever so delicately, tracing the flaring rim with one outstretched finger.
Jean gasped immediately, cringing at the intensity of the tickle, and sneezed all over Harry’s hand.
“AEgkK’TschIeww!! HHd’TtSChHhht!! Oh m’by god…”
He blinked and shivered, relishing in the trembling aftermath and unable to help the soft little whimper of pleasure that slipped through his lips, only partially open to allow himself to breathe. He snuffled, the sound of it crackling and obscenely congested.
Harry pulled his hand back, connected to Jean’s nostrils by one delicate, glistening strand before it stretched to its limit and fell away.
“Wow.” He smiled, sounding completely fucking enraptured, and held the hand up for Jean to see as he himself admired the prodigious results of that violent double. Jean blushed to see the skin glistening in the poorly lit room, slick and sticky. He was frightened for a second that Harry might actually lick himself clean, and even more frightened at the way his cock didn’t seem to wilt in the slightest, but thankfully Harry just wiped it off on the ruined material of his own shirt.
“Poor baby. So stuffy. You made such a lovely mess for me, Jean-Jean.”
He was saying the most ridiculous, unbelievable things in that gruff, rumbling voice of his, speaking more because he liked the sound of what he was saying over whether he thought Jean might actually enjoy it. Jean did enjoy it, though, and that fucking enraged him. He would always come back for more, no matter how strange or obscure the sex became, because he was a fucking fool and Harry could play him – just about anyone, really, but especially him – like a fucking fiddle.
“You’re a fucking pervert, Harry. A disgusting creep!”
He meant it, too, yet they both knew that this vitriol towards the particulars of Harry’s proclivities was a facade. In reality, Jean was angry because once again, Harry had pushed his boundaries and his buttons and he’d loved it anyway. His outburst only spurred Harry on, rubbing himself shamelessly on Jean’s hip.
“Yeahh, baby. I’m a downright tramp. But you fucking love it, Vic. I’m making you hard.”
Jean gasped as Harry’s baritone voice rumbled against him; he could feel it in his chest, the rasp of it echoing in his skull as Harry licked a line down the shell of his ear. The feeling of his facial hair rubbing against his cheek made him shudder. And he was right – he was so, so right. Jean was giddy with arousal, intoxicated with the utter filthiness of it all.
“Let me – let me clean myself up.” He managed, and Harry obeyed, giving Jean enough room to retrieve his handkerchief and indulge in a long, crackling blow. It was several such blows, in fact, and Jean squirmed as Harry refused to look away. He wondered if his body would soon become unable to distinguish between the twin burning flames of humiliation and intense arousal. He used the unsullied part of his handkerchief to clean his beard and moustache, hoping if he missed a spot Harry would let him know before the unavoidable walk of shame back to the bullpen.
“You okay?” Harry asked, voice far too fucking tender as he stroked at Jean’s cheek. He knew if he looked Harry in the eye his gaze would be equally as saccharine, and it made Jean want to scream, or melt. Maybe both.
“I’m fine. Fuck me, god dammit. Fuck me right now,” He snarled, bucking his hips against Harry and groaning as the older man immediately humped him back, pawing him all over.
“You gonna beg me for it?” Harry murmured against Jean’s lips, breathy with arousal.
“Fuck you.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“Neither the fuck are you, shitkid.”
“It’s okay,” Harry drawled, grinning at him before flipping Jean around and bending him over the small, nearby reading table. Jean moaned as Harry pulled his trousers and underwear down his thighs, shivering in anticipation. “I forgive you. I’ll fuck you anyway.”
Jean rested his forehead on his folded forearms and moaned again, heating at the sensation of Harry spreading his cheeks with his huge hands before spitting on his hole, happy in the knowledge that he had worked Harry up just enough to be railed as hard and as fast as he liked.
“Feel free to sneeze again, if you need to.” He could hear the smirk in Harry’s voice, the popping cap of his portable lube bottle, and then the sensation of his coated fingers probing inside of him, stretching him open.
“Fuck you,” Jean gasped out, reaching between his legs as Harry lined up their hips, getting ready to enjoy the ride.
#did i mention this is a mess centric fic#just need to make it clear#nametakenfic#d/isco e/lysium#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz fet#snz kink#snz fucker#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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☔🍂for k/oito or 🧽🌿 for t/sukishima? 💚
I am so sorry this took so long but I am finally done with this excessively horny fic 💀
(Finished K/oito prompt is here 💕)
T/sukishima has increasingly exhibitionistic fantasies about K/oito getting off to his ceaseless allergies. He decides to expose himself to even more allergens to really get under K/oito's skin
~~~~~~~
Content:
M/M, established relationship, I guess 'normal', domestic AU? (they own a house in the Chiba suburbs or something), dust allergies, pollen allergies, grass allergies, K/oito has the fetish and T/sukishima loves it, exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation, blow jobs
Slapped under a read more - very NSFW (as per lol)
Tsukishima dragged a wrist across his twitching nostrils, grimacing slightly at the twin wet streaks they left on his skin. He was going to sneeze again soon, almost like clockwork. He had known when Koito, dick hard and straining against the fabric of his finely tailored trousers, had thrust him outside to work on the garden that his sneezing wouldn’t cease in the slightest. He knew it was more to get him out of Koito’s immediate vicinity than to actually quell any allergic reactions – he was just as allergic to pollen and grass as he was to all the dust their spring-cleaning attempts had unearthed.
Koito hated cleaning – had grown up in a house where well-mannered servants would sneak in while he was at school and make his bed for him. His already sour mood would not allow for the extra irritation of fetishistic desire heating his skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake with every harsh sneeze from his lover. He had ground his teeth and clutched the sponge in his hand like a stress ball, attempting to ignore each fit of messy, desperate sneezes that forced their way out of Tsukishima until he simply couldn’t take it anymore.
Still, Tsukishima thought to himself, it wasn’t as if he could help his reaction to various allergens any more than Koito could help his own reciprocal arousal. He had offered to get Koito off – it was no skin off his nose if their cleaning was dragged out by a couple of fucks on the living room floor. It would be a welcome distraction from the itchy tears that spilled from his eyes and the near constant buzz in his sinuses. But no. Koito’s hatred for chores of any kind had won out over the erection that throbbed with every drenching sneeze Tsukishima let out unhindered. He simply wanted the cleaning done. And so, Tsukishima had been banished, out of sight and out of mind. Though perhaps not entirely out of hearing.
He paused where he knelt before the bed of flowers, glove-clad hands frozen in their motion of pulling errant weeds from the dirt. His breath stuttered as the tickle crested for what was easily the hundredth time that day. Yeah, he was definitely going to sneeze again. His small nostrils twitched devilishly, almost lustily, in preparation for his fit. He ushered it in with several measured, deep breaths through his nose before his body reflexively took over for him, chest heaving as the gasps grew shorter and closer together until –
“Hehhh’EIIIISH’ooooh!! HEEIIISH!!! HAHDDT’choo!!”
He cringed forward with them, resting his palms on his thighs, allowing each sneeze free range of the air. The flowers in front of him were blown back by the force of his expulsions before bobbing back into place, glittering droplets settling on their waxy petals. He watched the heavy cloud of spray dissipate and shivered pleasantly in the aftermath. Those sneezes had felt particularly euphoric, if not a little messier than he had bargained for. Small trails of mess hung threateningly down to his lower lip. He lifted the neck of his tank top up to squeeze it away, worrying his nose through the fabric for a few extra seconds when he realised how good it felt to physically bully the tickle into submission.
Satisfied he was done for the moment, he returned to his work. He wondered if Koito had heard him from inside their home – having made no effort to hold back, it was likely. He hoped it made his cock throb. The thought of driving Koito up the wall whilst he innocently tended to their garden was certainly making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand. He gave his own budding erection a welcoming squeeze through the fabric of his jeans, promising himself he would take a break soon to relieve himself in their downstairs bathroom.
Most people would probably be surprised to learn that behind his placid and stony composure lay a bottomless pit of sexual desire. He didn’t blame them – it’s not like it was something one advertised to the world. It had certainly shocked Koito, though it had also delighted him. Tsukishima had been happy to finally find a partner who could keep up with him in bed, let alone someone he had fallen deeply in love with. He found his mind wandering, jumping from one glorious image to another: Koito bringing him to orgasm with his strong, brown hands; Koito taking him into his mouth and sucking him down like he was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted; Koito pressing into him with his generous length and fucking him mercilessly until he came untouched.
He was entirely hard now. The second his love was done with the cleaning, he was fucking him. The delayed gratification of these mind-numbing chores would make it all the sweeter.
His nose was tickling again, nostrils beginning to flare and pinken as the sensation teased them. He imagined Koito watching him from one of their upstairs windows, perhaps pretending to clean the window pane, eyes locked on Tsukishima as he knelt back in preparation for another spraying release.
The itch was so strong it sent shivers throughout his extremities. Sometimes the tickle before the sneeze was just as enjoyable – the way it toyed with him, forced him to abandon all control and offer himself up to it. His tongue pressed up against his bottom teeth, flexing gently in a way that helped the tickle to culminate. He wasn’t sure why this worked for him, but he hoped Koito could make out his desperate expression – nostrils twitching, eyelids starting to droop against the tickle, mouth hanging open. A ridiculous sight to see, he was sure. Koito would delight in it.
The tickle suddenly swelled, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as his allergies had their way with him.
“HEH! Hh-HH-HDDT-!! HEIIIISHHH’oooh!! HZZSCH’Ooh!! HEH-EIISSHH!! EISSSH’Oooohh!! Oh…”
The sneezes electrified him, washing over him in waves and leaving his head swimming with pleasure. He trembled when he was done, a small sigh escaping him as he wiped his damp lips against a raised forearm. The flowers, mercilessly baptised once again, bobbed gently in their bed. Not exactly what Koito had meant when he told me to water the flowers, but much more preferable, I’m sure. He allowed himself a small smirk, finishing up his work as he fantasised about Koito coming into his own hand, maybe all over the recently cleaned window pane, as he watched Tsukishima lose all control in the garden below. He knew Koito would be feeling honest-to-god jealousy watching him bathe their marigolds in his spray, wishing for all the world he could trade places with the lucky plants. His cock throbbed again and again.
Flower beds successfully de-weeded, he stood up and wiped his gloved hands half-heartedly on his jeans. He scanned the garden for other chores. Since Koito had not given him the go-ahead to come back inside just yet, he figured he would need to find something else to do outside. Their grass was freshly mown – they had organised for this to be done whilst they were both at work last week; Koito, because he hated it as much as any other chore, and Tsukishima, because he would be unable to mow straight for sneezing.
Looking round one last time, he confirmed it. There really was nothing left to be done. He would go back inside – Koito would just have to accept that he was going to sniffle and sneeze for the remainder of the day, the combined dust and pollen having done more than enough damage. A couple of orgasms would probably be just the ticket to helping him unwind, as much as he may initially fight it. Maybe Tsukishima could finish all the dusting for him while Koito lay back on their couch, cock in hand and watching as the shorter man wasn’t quite as careful with the feather duster as he should be.
He shook his head and smiled softly. Even if Koito wasn’t in the mood for sex, he certainly needed to get himself off. These fantasies were getting out of control.
He was just about to re-enter the house through their sliding screen door when he heard the familiar rumbles of a lawn mower engine being fired into ignition. Focusing in on the sound, he realised it was next door – the Yamato household. One would think their lawn would have no grass left, given the house-proud diligence with which Mr Yamato upheld his rigid mowing schedule. Whenever Tsukishima normally heard the tell-tale engine sounds from across the fence, he made sure that every window was shut tight against the offending grass-filled air. If he was outside, he’d scramble inside as quickly as he possibly could, lest he sneeze his proverbial brains out for hours afterwards.
Today was not a normal day. Today, he felt like enjoying the spring sun for just a little while longer. Perhaps he had missed a few weeds in the flower beds after all. It was merely a coincidence that they sat up against the adjoining fence to the Yamato property. Surely Koito would understand.
Tsukishima felt his heart race at what he was about to do. It felt scandalous, willingly exposing himself to allergens – sure, he’d induced with them before for Koito’s pleasure, but he’d never actually let himself linger outside in the line of exposure to mown grass before. His reaction to it was downright nuclear, much more rapid than the prolonged, drawn out sneezes his allergies to pollen and dust teased out of him. Grass left him dizzy and breathless. This was objectively a stupid idea. And yet, it had his cock throbbing – the image of Koito, fussing over him in his allergic misery, completely torn between loving concern and the desire to bury himself to the hilt inside the shorter man as his body was wracked with sneeze after sneeze after sneeze.
Either way, it was too late now. He heard Yamato begin his predictable pattern up and down the lawn, could smell the tantalising fresh scent of the grass as it floated on the air. He absent-mindedly patted the dirt of the flower bed, attempting to look like he was actually gardening, all the while taking gentle inhales through his tickly nostrils.
Five minutes later, he’d had more than enough. Through sheer willpower, he had managed to hold back what he knew would be an incredible fit. Eyes overflowing with allergic tears, he pulled his feet free of his boots and made his way into the house, peeling off his garden gloves and dropping them haphazardly on the kitchen counter. He choked on a sudden gasp of air, sure he would lose his composure at last, before he managed to reel himself back in. The desperate inhale had echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet household, and it was following this that Tsukishima heard Koito making his way downstairs.
“Tsukishima? Are you done with the garden?”
Of course, he was completely unable to answer, right on the precipice of losing control as he was. He could only stand there and gasp, eyes swimming with tears and nostrils flared to capacity, desperately holding back until Koito could reach him. He saw the blurred image of Koito freeze in the doorframe, heard the “Wha-?!” as the taller man took in the sight of him stood there, chest heaving as he hitched, and hitched, and hitched…
It was too much. Sucking in a final breath, Tsukishima surrendered himself to the overwhelming tickle as it ground cruelly against his sinuses.
“HAH-EIIIISH’OOOOH!!”
His body rocked forward with the force of it, entire face buzzing with the itch. He heard Koito moan. His lips twitched into a smile, or at least tried to as his jaw dropped open to welcome in another huge breath. The tickle felt like a feather pressed right up against the deepest part of his nostril – no longer a pointed spike of irritation but an eye-watering tingling that seemed to trigger every nerve all at once. It was so intense that he felt helpless to do anything but usher the next sneeze in as quickly as possible, desperate for relief.
“HADT!! HEEEISHHHOooh!!”
Even to his own ears, the sneeze sounded impossibly wet. He could feel the resulting moisture on his lips clearly enough to picture the aerosol cloud it had produced. He imagined droplets soaring down onto the kitchen tile, cleaned just this morning. He heard Koito curse and stride towards him, reaching out and steadying him by the elbow as he exploded with another “HEH-EISSHHHH!!” He barely had time to lick his bottom lip clean before the rest were upon him.
“HAH-EIIISHHHOOH! HDDD’SHHH!! HAHD’DZZZ’SHOOH!! EISHHHH!!!”
Koito was leading him to the living room now, and he tried his best to walk whilst he erupted helplessly, his nose trying with all its might to expunge the grass, pollen and remnants of dust that tickled and teased.
Staying outside and exposing his already abused sinuses to even more allergens really had been stupid – he knew that, and he knew he’d be sneezing for practically the rest of the day. But it felt so fucking good to sneeze like this – violent, unabashed, desperate sneezes that soothed the itch like a balm. His skin prickled with pleasure, goosebumps rising to the surface. He gasped again, felt his head shake briefly as the tickle held him on the edge before he plummeted forward with a supremely pleasurable “HADT’DIIISSHHOOooh!!”
“Bless you, honey, bless you, jesus christ!”
Koito knelt before him where he had pushed him down on the couch. He sounded positively ruined, more out of breath than Tsukishima, if that were even possible at this point. Knowing his lover had purposely placed himself directly in the firing range of his powerful sneezes, Tsukishima made a point to lean forward and drench him as much as he could manage. He could make out the unmistakeable sound of frantic masturbation. It was distinctively wet sounding, the ‘shlck-shlck’ of Koito’s hand as he stroked himself with abandon betraying just how aroused he’d become in a matter of minutes.
“HAHH-EISHHOOOh!! EEIISHHH!! HAH’EIIIIIISSSSHHHHH!!! Ahh, K-koito-!! I can’t s-stopp-!!”
He felt Koito’s hand grasp for his knee and squeeze tight.
“Tsukishima, you’re going to make me-!”
Koito cut himself off with a breathless whimper. He was so close now. Tsukishima wanted to watch him come but knew that was an impossibility – he could barely open his eyes a fraction of the way before the tickle forced them shut, and the allergic tears all but blinded him. He could only sneeze, and luckily that was exactly what both of them wanted. He snorted back some of the mess that was dripping down to his lips, igniting an itch so fierce the resulting sneezes tumbled out of him rapid-fire and breathless.
“HDDT’EIIISSHHH-EIIISHHHH-EISHHHH-EEEISH-ISSHH-SHHHTT!!”
His lungs forced him to suck in a choppy gasp to fuel a massive, final sneeze to round off the fit. He buckled forward, grasping blindly for the arm of the couch to steady himself as it tore through him.
“HHDDDT-!! EEII’YESHHHHOOOOoohhh-!!”
He heard Koito’s pleasured whine, and in his mind and on the floor kneeling before him, Koito orgasmed hard. He practically shuddered with it, that last sneeze echoing in his ears and dripping down his face in rivulets. Never before had he heard Tsukishima sneeze so violently and so consecutively, and he had been lucky enough to be drenched head-on with every single gorgeous explosion. Each time he expected the pleasurable waves to recede, the delicate motion of his hand would send a new one pulsing through him, leaving him twitching helplessly.
Tsukishima struggled to catch his breath, rubbing his eyes one at a time with the base of his palms. He seemed to be done sneezing for the immediate moment, though he knew he’d be starting up again soon enough. Koito’s fingers continue to pulse convulsively where they gripped his knee. Finally able to open his eyes and squint down between his legs, he noted with no small amount of pride that Koito was still coming, cock flicking back and forth in the caged prison of his brown hand. The results of his orgasm splattered over the floor, the couch, even Tsukishima’s trouser leg.
At last, Koito sagged forward with a reedy sigh, signalling the end of his pleasure. He leaned his forehead against Tsukishima’s thigh, cock still in hand, drooping and leaking all over the floor.
“Fuckkk……” He sighed against the shorter man’s thigh. Tsukishima’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle.
“You okay?” He stroked the nape of Koito’s neck, finding it damp with sweat.
“Hnnng….”
“You’re getting your own cum all over yourself.”
Koito bristled and scoffed.
“As if you’ve ever had a problem with that before.”
“True. But it’s not exactly conducive to a successful spring cleaning.”
Koito peered up at him, flushed and glassy eyed but still managing to look daggers at Tsukishima as if he hadn’t just had the orgasm of a lifetime with his boyfriend’s sneezes dripping down his face.
“And whose fault is that, you allergic bastard! Fuck!”
Koito scrambled forward, incensed, and squeezed Tsukishima’s own neglected erection through his pants. Tsukishima gasped at the pleasure-pain of it, long overdue an orgasm of his own. Koito smirked as he felt the phallus under his palm throb enthusiastically in response. He quickly set to undoing the fly of the shorter man’s pants and extracted Tsukishima’s painfully hard cock. It was as thick and solid as the rest of the man, the sight leaving Koito’s mouth watering in anticipation - and then he was expertly sucking the length of it into his mouth.
Tsukishima bucked up involuntarily, the sudden feeling of his entire cock being encased in the velvet heat of Koito’s mouth and throat overwhelming him and forcing a deep groan out of him. This is what he had wanted. This is what exposing himself to his terrible grass allergies had been for. Koito bobbed his head in earnest and Tsukishima rested a hand in his hair, slinging his other arm over the back of the couch as he watched his partner work him.
Koito pulled off him suddenly with a lewd pop.
“You taste amazing.” He admitted, taking him back into his mouth.
Tsukishima moaned appreciatively as Koito swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before sinking down on the rest of his length.
“Thanks. Been working up a sweat for you.”
Koito hummed and continued to tease him, using his tongue to run up the thick vein on the underside of Tsukishima’s cock. He was so damned good at this. Tsukishima was suddenly overwhelmed with both intense attraction and fondness for Koito. He carded his hand through the younger man’s hair.
“I thought about you watching me. In the garden.”
Koito paused for just a moment, eyes searching Tsukishima’s face, imploring him to elaborate before he returned to his ministrations.
“I imagined you stood by the window, touching yourself as you watched me sneeze. And I did sneeze, darling, I sneezed so much. All over our flowers. It felt so good.”
Koito whimpered around his dick. Tsukishima continued.
“I put on quite a show for you, just in case. I didn’t hold back at all – I’m surprised you couldn’t hear me. I’m sure all of the neighbours did. It made me hard.”
Koito froze for a split-second before frantically pulling off him. The sudden rush of cold air on his naked, wet cock sent shivers running through Tsukishima. The younger man gazed at him, eyes blazing with undisguised lust, and grabbed him by the front of his tank top.
“Bedroom. Now.”
Tsukishima blinked and gestured around the room with one hand.
“What about-“
“Cleaning be damned! I need to be inside of you. Get your ass up before I go genuinely insane.”
Tsukishima smirked and rose to his feet, cock slapping against his belly with the movement. He rubbed a finger under his twitching nostrils just to watch the way Koito’s eyes locked in on the movement.
“Yes, sir.”
Koito regarded him for a moment longer before his eyes fixed on the far corner of the room. He pointed at the large feather duster, rudely abandoned following Tsukishima’s banishment to the garden.
“And bring that with you.”
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I'll show you disease (B/illy, S/tranger T/hings)
Here's a 3.8k nasty fic no-one asked for of E/ddie selling B/illy weed at a house party when B/illy is sick with some evil cold or flu bug. AU of some kind in which they are both alive and nothing exceptional ever happened to them so they're just getting on with life 🤷♀️
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Content:
M/M but not really (they hate each other), Cold/flu sneezes, voyeurism, E/ddie has the fetish, E/ddie is germaphobic but conflicted over it, some mentions of mess, contagion, sneezing in someone's face, mentions of masturbation
CW: Non-consensual contagion, very brief mention of someone throwing up, some suppressed shame over the fetish, homophobic and ableist slurs, physical violence, young men being fucking stupid and aggressive
~~~~~~~~
I really should emphasise this is a pretty seedy fic. No nice feelings to be had, just pure nasty fetish content I had to get out of my system 😅
NSFW, minors please DNI!
Eddie leaned up against the back wall of the fancy house he was currently lurking behind, black metal lunch box in hand. He hadn’t wanted to show up to this fucking shitshow of a house party. It had quite literally been the last thing he had wanted to do. This was his third time taking calculus and he had a stack of equations to get through before the homework was due on Friday. He hated that shit, hated it with a passion, and yet – he would rather be crouched over his desk, chewing the end of his pencil to wood chips and dying of boredom, than be at this party. But his amp had finally given out on him and he’d burned through any and all drug money this month already. He knew selling weed and ket to teenagers wasn’t exactly a respectable occupation, but nobody would hire him in this fucking town, even to flip burgers, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to bug Wayne for cash. So he was here, trying to tune out the blare of some trash Oingo Boingo song and working his way through a crumpled pack of cigarettes.
There was a sudden commotion to his left. A jock pushed his way through a gaggle of students and made it halfway down the (extensive, perfectly mown) lawn before emptying his guts noisily. Eddie wrinkled his nose at the sight before tossing his cigarette to ground and grinding it out on the (obviously pricey and incredibly tasteful) flagstones. Why him, why him.
It was nearing the end of November, and Hawkins was fucking cold. He snuggled into his leather jacket, for all the good it did him. The other partygoers didn’t seem to notice the freezing temperature at all – but then again, they had enough cheap alcohol in their system to anesthetise a family of elephants, so it made sense. He’d have to break out his trench coat soon, and after that, his woefully ratty puffer jacket. He hated that shit, a total style-cramper of a coat, but vanity be damned. It was the only thing that successfully kept out the cold.
He sniffled, nose starting to run a little. He swiped across his philtrum, grimacing at the dampness pooling there and how freezing the tip of his nose was. He really, really didn’t want to get sick, not with whatever plague was going round Hawkins High this year. He’d had a close call with Gareth last week, had disbanded Hellfire mid-session in a desperate attempt to separate himself and everyone else from what had to be the fastest and messiest progression of an upper-respiratory infection he had ever seen. It seemed like half his classes were empty, not that he particularly gave a fuck about that. He would rather the sick students actually stay at home than brave coming to school and give their germs to him.
It was strange, to be so disgusted by the thought of himself being sick but find the contagion aspect of it so incredibly erotic. The other day he’d been making his way to his locker between classes when he’d seen and heard one of the senior cheerleaders – he forgot her name – erupt into a dramatic fit of seven girly sneezes that sent her pitching forward into steepled hands, before using said germy hands to open the door of a classroom. He took a detour to the bathroom to calm himself – from both the creeping anxiety and sudden rush of blood to his groin.
The sound of something shattering inside the house followed by drunken whooping and cheering pulled him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes and lit his third – or was it his fourth? – cigarette of the evening. He really should lay off the things, especially if he wanted to strengthen his immune system, but right now he needed something to occupy his mind. Business was slow-going, partially due to the fact that half the student body was sick, and partially due to the fact that he was in no mood to actively socialise and be surrounded by wasted teenagers while George Michael was blaring loudly enough to give him a tension headache. Funny that Iron Maiden never did that to him, even at the maximum volume of his car speakers.
A couple more sales should get him what he wanted. He could probably make more if he put in the effort, but it was just not one of those days. The thought that he would probably make easier sales going door to door selling Robitussin this week passed through his mind, and he chuckled at the absurdity of it.
“Hh’RRrSSHhh’uhh!!”
Nearly dropping his cigarette, Eddie’s body perked up immediately at the sound of what was, at least to his ears, an incredibly sexy sneeze. Gruff, irritated and masculine, it echoed a little in the garden and at least three girls called out blessings in response. He listened for a beat as the culprit offered no thank you’s, trying not to hold his breath in anticipation for what he hoped was a second sneeze.
“Hh-!! HAHhh’TSCcchhh’uh!!”
Ooh, that sounded desperate. And so wet. He took a drag on his cigarette and let himself luxuriate on the exhale and the sound of the sneeze looping in his mind. It was a welcome respite from the boredom and shitty pop music. Eddie scanned what he could of the garden from his vantage point but couldn’t see anyone that looked like they were recovering from a fierce double of sneezes. Maybe they’d made their way outside to sneeze before heading back in? Either way, it seemed like that was it. He was a little disappointed he wouldn’t get to hear any more. Those sneezes had been hot, plain and simple, admittedly leaving his jeans a little tighter than before. He was grateful that he was partial to black jeans and had found a particularly shadowy corner to skulk in. It wasn’t as if anyone was coming over anyway.
It was as he was sighing in frustration and taking a final drag on the stump of his cig that he heard honest-to-god footsteps approaching him from the left. He straightened up, ready to turn on as much charm as he could to secure the last 20 to 30 dollars he needed.
His smile dropped the second he took in the sight of the man approaching him, and it took him almost all of his energy to stop himself from groaning out loud. He kept his cool, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and standing up straight.
“Hargrove! Fancy meeting you here.”
As he had expected he would, Billy downright snarled at him.
“Cut the shit, Munson. I’m not here to fucking chit-chat.”
Eddie smirked.
“Oh, believe me, honey, I know. You want a half-ounce of reefer?”
Billy bristled at the pet name, also just as Eddie had expected. He loved messing with the guy, even if it earned him a couple of punches here and there. Billy would never rough him up totally – the dude was insane, most likely a certifiable sociopath, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Eddie was both the fastest and cheapest way to get a fix, and it would do no good to brain his dealer over some light teasing.
“Yeah. Hurry up, freak.”
Eddie made a point of opening his lunch box as slowly as possible, delighting in the way the vein on Billy’s forehead was starting to bulge. He had no idea why the girls flocked to such a douchebag. Hargrove was good looking, he knew that – he had eyes. But there was this aura around the guy – something just not right about him. Girls didn’t even give him a chance, though he knew that was partially due to his own doing. Anyway. Weed. He could only joke around so much before Billy reached the end of his tether.
He held the plastic bag up to Billy, jumping back and out of reach when Billy made a grab for it.
“Munson, I swear to god –“
“Cash first, doll-face. Twenty dollars.” Eddie smirked at him.
“Fucking fag.” Billy grumbled but reached into his pocket and rummaged around anyway. He pulled out two crumpled tens and was half-started proffering them to Eddie when he suddenly froze. Eddie frowned and tilted his head, wondering what the fuck was happening until a sudden flicker of movement at the centre of Billy’s face – his nostrils giving a violent twitch – had him zoning in like a hawk.
An intense look of irritation was taking over Billy’s features in a distinctively pre-sneeze fashion. Despite himself, Eddie felt a tingle of anticipation race down his spine. Hargrove was a psycho, but he was a hot psycho, and it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious to hear him sneeze. The metalhead continued to feign confusion so that he could carry on watching Billy’s expression crumple, and, to his utter delight, listen as the younger man issued a couple of soft gasps, the tickle teasing him mercilessly.
Eddie licked his lips, a nervous habit and nothing more, but was nonetheless relieved that Billy was far too distracted to notice. And man, was he distracted. He didn’t mask the desperation on his face at all – if anything, he seemed to lean into it, nostrils twitching and flaring as his tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He looked ridiculous, which was to say painfully erotic, at least to Eddie. Stupid, sexy psychopath.
Finally, the tickle seemed to crest, and with a final gasp, Billy was pitching forward with a wrenching sneeze.
“HuHh’RRrrrschh!!”
Eddie jumped out of the way just in time, clumsily stepping back from the glittering cloud of spray that the younger man let out unhindered. He paused for a moment, in which Eddie watched the aerosol of the sneeze dissipate gently in the cold night air, before his head tipped forward with another harsh expulsion.
“HH’TTSCHhhGH!!”
The spray was even denser this time as Billy sneezed forcefully through clenched teeth. Eddie licked his lips again, couldn’t help himself. No question about it, Hargrove was definitely the source of those earlier, cock-throbbingly sexy sneezes, and he had a front-row seat to the absolute spectacle of it all. The lack of manners and etiquette, the way the younger man just let loose with no regard for the fact that Eddie had been standing well within the splash zone was an unfortunate and very potent turn-on. The metalhead shifted from one foot to the other, reaching a hand into his pocket and squeezing his cock through his jeans in a weak attempt to wrangle it into submission.
Billy righted himself, blinking through bleary, wet eyelashes for a moment and shaking his head, looking for all the world like the sneezes had temporarily sent him on a trip to another dimension. He snuffled and Eddie winced. That did not sound healthy. He watched as the younger man wiped his damp lips and nostrils on the back of his free hand before thrusting the bills out toward him, as if nothing at all had occurred.
“Uhh, bless you.” Eddie offered, hearing the thinly veiled disgust (and something else) in his own voice. He could have sworn he actually felt the germs being transferred from paper to skin as he slid the tainted money into his pocket, making sure not to graze his erection as he went.
Billy said nothing, didn’t even so much as grunt, just stared Eddie down with those cold blue eyes and held out his empty hand for the drugs. Eddie pressed the bag into his palm, trying not to stare but failing as Billy used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to swipe at his nostrils – pinching them shut before pulling down towards his septum, transferring the dampness to his fingertips.
“Always a pleasure, Hargrove.” Eddie muttered under his breath, snapping his lunch box closed and turning to make his way the fuck off the property and back to the safe, germless confines of his van. He flinched at the sudden sensation of Billy gripping his shoulder tight. A confusing wave of disgust and arousal flowed through him as he realised it was the hand he had just been using to tend to his nose.
“Wait. Do you have any joints, pre-rolled?”
Eddie did, but they were his.
“I do, but they’re mine. Let go.”
He attempted to free himself from the grip, but Billy squeezed tighter. Accepting a quick defeat, he rolled his eyes and reached into the interior pocket of his jacket. With crazies like Hargrove, when they were on one like this, it was better to give them what they wanted. For a price, of course. He held it up so that Billy could see but not reach.
“I want another ten for this.”
He was absolutely pushing his luck, and he knew it. If Billy got violent, he’d cut his losses and fork it over, but he may as well try and milk the situation just a little. To his surprise, Billy just nodded, letting go of his shoulder and rooting around in his pocket for another bill. When he handed it over with no fanfare, Eddie handed him the joint and eagerly snatched at the money.
He was about to leave again when he noticed Billy, joint perched in his mouth, patting his own leather jacket up and down and cussing under his breath. He should have just turned and gone, would have under any other circumstances. If Billy the bigot couldn’t find his lighter, it was no skin off his teeth. It’s just, he had absolutely ripped the guy off, and he was clearly sick…
“Need a light?” He offered, flipping his own lighter open.
Billy regarded him for a moment before grunting, securing the joint between two fingers and allowing Eddie to lean forward and light the tip for him. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke out of his nostrils – something Eddie had seen him do a number of times before, but never with such a miserably stuffy nose. Billy was coughing almost instantly before a shaky inhale tipped his blonde head backwards in preparation for another bout of sneezing.
His nostrils looked great when they flared like that, Eddie thought to himself, no longer giving a fuck about his lingering gaze now that it was evident Billy was entirely incapacitated by the tickle in his nose. He watched through unblinking eyes as those pinkening nostrils flared to capacity, stomach fluttering a little as Billy took in that final, heaving breath before he was pushed over the edge.
“Hh’RRISCHHhh’uh!! HaHH’TSCCHhhh!! ‘TTtSCHHhhttt!!”
A triple this time. Eddie watched as Billy sprayed the air thrice, each sneeze increasing in sloppy intensity and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. The thought of catching those sneezes with his palm, feeling the force and drenching wetness of them first-hand sent such a sudden rush of blood to his stiffening cock that he almost swooned with it.
Billy appeared just as winded post-sneeze as Eddie felt. He hated that he felt pity for the guy, knew he didn’t deserve it, but it was there all the same, tugging at his goddamn heartstrings. He should just go. Instead, he opened his big, dumb mouth.
“You shouldn’t be smoking that shit when you’re sick, man.”
“Fuck off. I’m not sick.” Billy sniffled thickly, glaring at him as he took another drag from the joint and exhaling through his mouth this time.
“Right, sure. And I’m the pope. You clearly have the fucking disease that’s left Hawkins High on its knees this past couple of weeks.”
Billy pointedly ignored him. Eddie carried on anyway.
“You graduated, man. What the fuck are you doing at a high school party, other than swapping spit with some poor teenage girls who don’t know any better – who totally, by the way, gave you a fucking radio-active strain of influenza.”
Billy stared at him, that icy-cold gaze that normally looked so composed and lifeless seeming just a little more heated than usual.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up, freak?”
“No, not really.”
“Maybe you fucking should. Burnout retard, still in High School at twenty and selling drugs to those ‘poor teenage girls’. Nobody cares what you think.”
He heard this shit on the daily from various douchebag jocks. It was nothing new. His normal response would have been to laugh, make some kind of overly theatrical gesture and walk away. For whatever reason – the fact that he had been concerned for this scumbag, the fact that he was freezing cold, the fact that he hated this party with a passion, who knew – he opened his mouth again.
“Yeah? At least I don’t look and sound like a fucking human petri dish of disease, sniffles.”
Billy came at him so fast he didn’t even have time to blink before he was slammed up against the wall, head smacking painfully back onto the brick.
“Mother fucker!” He hissed in pain, reaching up to grab at Billy’s wrists as he gripped him by his jacket. “Get the fuck off me, psycho!”
Billy smirked at him, leaned up close enough that for one terrifying, exhilarating second, Eddie thought he was going to kiss him.
“I’ll show you disease, you piece of shit.” Billy muttered, so close Eddie could feel the warmth of his breath as his lips all but grazed his own.
“What are you…” Eddie started before realisation spread through his veins like icy water. That familiar snarl of irritation was back, Billy’s nostrils twitching wide, jaw yawning open as the tickle overpowered him again. The metalhead was entranced for a beat, felt his traitorous cock throbbing in his jeans. This was like one of the private fantasies he would stroke himself off to, as whatever flavour of the month he fixated on would sneeze for him over and over in his mind, except this was actually happening. He could actually feel the puffs of Billy’s choppy inhales and exhales, watch the stretch and flare of his pretty, round nostrils as he built-up to what was sure to be another drenching explosion.
It was as he heard Billy take in that final, cinching breath that he snapped out of his lust-filled haze and started to push the younger man backwards, his grip having been temporarily weakened by the all-encompassing hold of the culminating tickle. He wasn’t fast enough though - the first wet sneeze hit him squarely in the face, spray bursting over him and forcing his eyes to reflexively squeeze shut.
“HAAHh’TSSCHHTtt!!!”
Eddie continued to push him, utilising Billy’s total surrender to his illness to unbalance him. He opened his eyes to watch the younger man stagger backwards, a second sneeze barrelling out of him and gracing the frigid air (and Eddie’s chin and neck) with a wide arc of germ-filled spray.
“HH’RRRSSCHhh’ww!!”
He stumbled forward onto one knee, inhaling again and tipping his head back for the most violent, definitive sneeze of the fit.
“HhHH’RISSSCHHH!!! Ough…”
This last sneeze sprayed juicy droplets of mess across the grass in front of him, so powerful that a couple of drops splattered the toes of Eddie’s sneakers. Billy looked up at him with a sick look of smugness and pleasure.
Eddie stared down at him in disbelief. When Billy started to chuckle like a fucking maniac, snot dripping from his nose all while he looked up at Eddie with those empty eyes, something snapped. He kicked Billy right in the sternum, forcing a winded groan out of him and sending him sprawling backwards onto the grass. Eddie lunged at him, straddling his torso before landing a series of punches all over his pretty-boy face. He had the sense to swing with his right arm only, sparing Billy the impact of the three heavy rings on his left hand, if only to avoid damage enough that he wouldn’t be spending a regrettable night at Hawkins police station.
Five punches in, Eddie realised Billy wasn’t fighting back. His stomach dropped, and for a brief moment of panic he thought he’d knocked him out or worse, but those fears were assuaged as Billy righted himself, head lolling back to rest on the grass as he stared back up at Eddie. The grin plastered to his face was deeply unnerving. He was also boiling hot; Eddie could feel the heat emanating off the torso between his thighs even through his jeans. Feeling the anger dissipate and wanting only to be as far away from the guy as possible, he scrambled to his feet. Billy continued to smirk up at him, even as his left cheek was starting to swell.
Eddie scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, a delayed reaction that would serve very little purpose at this point but gave him something to do to break eye contact.
“I’m charging you double from now on, you dumb motherfucker.” He spat, knowing even as he said it that it was a bluff.
Billy continued to lie back on the grass and started laughing like a total fucking maniac. Eddie had had enough – he was an expert at throwing people off their game but Hargrove was on a completely different level. He was genuinely batshit insane. He snatched his lunch box off the ground and stomped his way down the expansive garden towards the street. He heard Billy’s laughter trail off, grateful for the temporary reprieve until he heard a telltale gasp.
“HuHH’TSSSCHHH’uu!! Hah-!! TSCCCHHHSsstt!!”
Even through the anger, the discomfort, the disgust, his stomach still fluttered at the sound of them. Several minutes later he was back in his van, debating whether or not to claw his own facial skin off, cursing under his breath as he fumbled to start his sputtering engine. He wasn’t escaping this fucking sickness, no way in hell. Not after Billy had…He shook his head, still in genuine shock and some degree of self-recrimination for simply not walking away the second he saw that psycho approaching him. The fever must have fried the guy’s fucking brain, because what the fuck. What the fuck.
His engine finally roared to life and he was peeling down the road far faster than was both advisable and legal. He wanted nothing more than to strip naked and scrub himself germ-free before collapsing into his bed and pretending this entire evening had never happened. Never mind that he was hard as a rock. He definitely didn’t need to address the fact that the second he was in the shower his hand would be creeping down his stomach before wrapping his erection in a firm grip. No need to dwell on how he would probably be coming against the tiled wall until his legs were shaking, conjuring both the image of Billy’s pink nostrils flared to perfect circles, and the sound of his cold-induced sneezes as they burst across his skin.
He stomped on the gas, letting the thrill of his reckless driving drown out the uncomfortable thoughts, at least until he made it back to the trailer.
#no romance and no s/teve in this one at all#and i didn't make e/ddie sneeze even once?? insanity#s/tranger t/hings#nametakenfic#snzfucker#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz kink#snz fet#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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Sneaky Bastard (s/teddie)
Had a sudden flash of a scenario in my mind out of the blue that triggered a 2.7k fic of kinky fucking with very little plot 😅
E/ddie has an allergic reaction to S/teve's feather pillows, unbeknownst to the younger man, and attempts to push S/teve over the edge with his sneezing while feigning innocence
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Content:
M/M, established relationship, anal sex, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie is turned on by his own sneezing, feather allergies, manual inducing, some spanking and a little bit of power play
NSFW from the get go so stuck under a read more!
Eddie groaned into the pillow he’d all but buried his face into, Steve thrusting masterfully up against his prostate in a punishing rhythm. He’d barely finished knocking on his boyfriend’s front door not 30 minutes earlier before Steve had yanked him through the door frame and stripped him down in record timing. It had been a little while since Eddie had bottomed out for Steve – not because he didn’t like it – in fact, he fucking loved it. But quite honestly, unless they were in a particularly patient enough mood to adequately prep (or a distinctively impatient one where prep went out the window altogether – oops), they were normally content sucking and stroking each other to orgasm.
Today was clearly not one of those days – Steve knew just what he wanted – had told Eddie in a rare authoritative and painfully arousing voice exactly what he was going to do to him, and Eddie had been like putty in his hands. Of course, he loved that Steve was normally so attendant and sugary sweet when they made love, even when things got kinky, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t an exhilarating treat when Steve took control. Eddie encouraged it, even. It felt good to be pushed around by King Steve (god help his subconscious for that one), and he met him with equally enthusiastic energy.
Once Steve had expertly eaten him out and fingered him into a shaking mess, he’d pulled Eddie up onto all fours and pushed into him with an impressive erection. Despite having felt the length and weight of the younger man’s cock in his palm and throat innumerable times before, it always shocked him just how big it felt sliding into him. It was the sweetest kind of agony. Steve would get fully seated and then give Eddie a minute or two to get adjusted, mercilessly massaging his ass and back as the metalhead panted underneath him.
When he finally begged Steve to fucking move already, the former jock had pistoned forward with perfect aim right up against his sweet spot, drawing a pleasured yelp out of him. His cock bobbed neglected between his legs, and he’d attempted to balance on one arm to jerk himself off with the other, but Steve had slapped his hand away and replaced it with his own. Eddie wasn’t gonna say no to that, jesus fucking christ.
And so, here he was, moaning and sighing and mumbling profanities and litanies of praise to Steve as he was utterly and thoroughly fucked. He’d long since slumped down onto his forearms, ass up in the air and face down. It probably wouldn’t hurt to join Steve for some push-ups every now and then, if only to maintain a sex position that required even a touch of athleticism, but he knew even as the thought grazed his mind he wouldn’t commit. Steve certainly didn’t seem to mind whether he held the perfect aesthetic arch for him, if the ceaseless thrusting that shook the bed frame beneath them was any indication. He knew Steve loved to hear to his voice and his filthy ramblings so he simply let whatever sounds pour out of him do as they would. He didn’t miss the way Steve’s cock twitched inside him when he let out a particularly ruined groan.
“Hehh!! Ehh’TSHHieww!! TSSH’ieww!! EH’GXT’shieww! Mmnn….”
He was focusing on the obscene twin sounds of Steve’s balls slapping against his ass and the shlicking noise of Steve’s broad palm as it pulled at his cock, biting down on the tip of his tongue, when he felt a tickle buzzing in his sinuses. He barely had a second of recognition before he was gasping and sneezing into the pillow he’d nestled down into.
Ohh, but it felt good to sneeze, the fluttering sensation of it sending a new wave of goosebumps across his already sensitive skin. He clenched around Steve with each sneeze, temporarily slowing his rhythmic thrusting. He felt the cock in his ass throb, threatening imminent orgasm, heard the choked moan from his boyfriend, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little. He clenched around Steve again, this time on purpose, earning a quick smack on his ass. It was his to turn to groan.
“Bless you, baby. Fuck…”
Steve seemed to regain his composure, no longer at risk of shooting his load just yet. Just as well, Eddie thought. The buzzing in his sinuses seemed to linger, even after those intensely satisfying sneezes. He rubbed his nose against the pillow, but it didn’t help in the slightest.
“Thank you, angel. Got a snff tickle in my nose.”
Steve’s hips bucked involuntarily, particularly forcefully and pressing right up against his prostate. Eddie heard them both moan, his cock dripping a new surge of pre-cum against Steve’s tan fingers. He’d pressed his face deep into the pillow again. It was so soft and pliant, much softer than he remembered it being. It was almost as if…
It dawned on him in an instant. This was a feather down pillow. Not the polyester stuffed ones Steve had bought specifically for Eddie so they could actually sleep together in his bed without the long-haired man waking up to sinuses miserably swollen and stuffed up. Steve must have brought the feather ones back out after the last time he’d been here and forgotten to change them back. He’d been so desperate to fuck Eddie he probably wouldn’t have noticed if said dungeon master had grown a second head. Eddie grinned.
He would let Steve know about this little…situation in good time. For the moment, he was gonna fuck with Steve. Figuratively, of course – he was covered in the literal sense. He pressed his nose up against the pillow and inhaled as subtly as he could. It was just enough to amp the tickle back up to the point he would probably sneeze again soon. He fostered the itch as best he could, taking shallow breaths through his nostrils - an increasingly difficult affair between moans and the familiar sensation of his orgasm creeping up on him. Finally, he felt the tickle crest, and he plummeted over the edge with another allergic fit, so tickly he felt tears prickling at the corner of his scrunched up eyes.
“Ohh, Stevie, I n-nee’heed to sn-sneeze againnn…! HIG’tchieww!! Hah’EGXT’tsieww!! IGSHHH! HIHD’tchiewww!!”
He sprayed the pillow openly, rubbing his itchy pink nostrils against it for good measure when he was done. This second fit had felt just as good as the first, maybe more so. He was definitely going to come soon.
The same could be said about Steve, who shuddered from head to toe as Eddie bucked and strained beneath him. He’d held himself still inside Eddie at that verbal warning and steeled himself against the onslaught. Each sneeze squeezed him tight in the most exquisite way, and coupled with the desperate sounds of them, and the image of his boyfriend drenching his pillow in spray, he’d almost swooned with the pleasure.
“Fuuuck, Eddie-! Are you okay, baby?”
Steve started to thrust again almost immediately, doubling the efforts of his hand on Eddie’s throbbing cock – the older man knew this was an attempt to have him coming before Steve, who must be right on the edge following his latest outburst. Normally he would be happy to oblige and cum his brains out obediently, but right now he was having too much fun working Steve up.
“Bless me. I’m fine, honey, just have this insane little tickle all of a sudden. Probably gonna sneeze again soon.”
Steve’s hips stuttered again, as did his breathing. Eddie smirked. This was intoxicating. He loved being a tease, and for whatever reason concealing the source of his sneezing from Steve was amplifying the entire experience for him.
A sudden jolt of pleasure wracked him, and he moaned openly. Steve was stroking and pulling at his sensitive cock for all he was worth and hitting his prostate more often than not. If he wanted Steve to come before he did, he would have to work fast. He was intending to bury his face in the pillow again when he noticed the small quill of a feather sticking up out of the cover. Perfect.
He plucked the feather out as subtly as he was capable, admiring the small, fluffy object for a moment, heart leaping in his chest as he imagined how tickly the downy barbs would feel inside his nostril. He brought it to his nose and managed to ease it gently inside – no small feat when he was being jostled repeatedly under Steve’s dutiful ministrations – and started to tease.
It was a cute little feather, too small to properly reach the back of his nostril where it could really get him going. Luckily, he was already feeling sensitive enough that even the sensation of his finger nails at the rim of his nostril as he twisted the feather around was enough to leave his chest swelling with rhythmical hitching.
“Hh…HH!....HDDT-!...Hh-HH-“
“Are you – are you making yourself sneeze?”
Shit. Steve had slowed to a lazy pace, though Eddie could feel him twitch and twitch inside him – he was right on the fucking edge, the stubborn bastard. Delaying the inevitable. Eddie had been just about to sneeze, and that would have been it for Steve, he was sure. He paused, caught in the act, feather coming to a halt inside his flaring nostril. He feigned innocence, poorly.
“N-no? I’m just rubbing my nose-hh!! Like I said, I h’haave this tiiih-this tihh’HIH!!”
He’d stopped tickling himself, but the damage had been done. The fluffy feather, pressed up against the sensitive wall of his nostril, seemed to push him over the edge all at once, sending him sprawling helplessly forward as he sneezed against the pillow.
“HAHG’KTCH’ieww!! EDH’tsieww! Hah’IGCK’tchuu!! Ohh…”
The base of his cock started to tingle and he knew he was almost there. Steve cursed and started to thrust rapidly, obviously out of patience and desperate to come himself. Eddie cried out against the sudden increase of power, limbs electric and head swimming as Steve pounded into him for all he was worth.
“You’re a – terrible – liar – Munson-!” Steve gasped out as he pistoned his hips, burying himself to the hilt inside of Eddie. The slapping sounds of sex and their moans echoed throughout the room. Eddie bit down on the pillow, a low, gravelly groan escaping him. Steve was so fucking good, good at everything, knew just how to make him come hard and deep and fast. He focused on the dual pleasure in his ass and cock, welcoming his oncoming orgasm with open arms. He’d almost forgotten what he’d just been doing when Steve’s sudden request jerked him back to the present.
“Do it again-!”
Eddie nodded, moaning, out of it, hardly able to think but willing to do whatever Steve asked as long as he just kept going. He reached for the small feather, forcefully ejected onto the pillow in front of him with that last little fit, but it was pitifully drenched and entirely useless. He buried his face in the pillow instead, inhaling as deeply as he could. Like the embers of a dwindling campfire suddenly sparking back to life, the tickle reignited with such a force that his resulting gasp hung dramatically in the air. He pitched forward, helpless to stop it, and sneezed with all his might into the pillow.
“Hh-MMPTSCH’ieww!! MPTSCHH!! MMpFSH’ieww!! HAH-MPPPTSH’IEWW!!”
It was too much, as he knew it would be, and as he heard and felt Steve cry out his name in orgasm, his own climax shuddered through him, cock throbbing in pleasure as it coated Steve’s long fingers with a deluge of his cum.
They rocked together in this rare instance of simultaneous climax, shivering and moaning against each other. Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed his face against his back, the extra weight forcing Eddie’s knees to buckle until they slid down onto the bed, Steve lying flush on top of him. Eddie could feel the sticky sheets bunched up against his stomach, but in that moment he couldn’t find the energy to care. He was too busy making his way back down to planet earth.
Eddie listened, eyes closed, as both of their breathing patterns returned to normal. As great as the full body skin-on-skin contact felt, Steve’s solid form was starting to weigh him down a little unbearably.
“Stevie?”
“Mrmm?” Steve rubbed his arm softly.
“Can’t breathe, hon.”
“Shit- sorry, one sec.”
Steve lifted himself up, strong arms bracing the sides of Eddie’s head as he attempted to withdraw himself from Eddie’s body as considerately as possible. He slid out at last, forcing a quiet hiss out of the older man. They’d used plenty of lube but Steve was still huge, and they hadn’t exactly been gentle in their fucking. Yep, he’d definitely be feeling this tomorrow.
Steve rolled next to him, landing with a gentle ‘oof’. Eddie heard the gentle snap of latex as Steve removed the condom and wiped his hands with a tissue. The former jock then reached out to brush a stray bang from Eddie’s face, said metalhead still planted firmly on his front, face turned to the side as he nestled into the pillow.
“Hey.” Steve smiled at him.
“Hey yourself, stud.” Eddie smiled back at him, feeling satisfied right down to his bones. Christ, that had been good. Eddie felt his eyelids starting to droop as he basked in his afterglow.
“You’re a sneaky bastard.” Steve said after a beat.
Eddie giggled, eyes closed, leaning into the hand that Steve cupped his cheek with. He’d happily accept the accusation, and he’d happily tease Steve as often as he pleased if it meant their sex was always this good.
“What did you use? To make yourself sneeze?”
Steve was cuddled up against his side now, pressing kisses to his bare shoulder.
“Feathers. More specifically, the pillow.”
He felt Steve pause mid-kiss to his shoulder blade.
“Shiiit, man, I’m sorry – I’ll go grab-“
“No, no, leave it. I mean, for now. It’s fine, baby. It’s not that bad. I don’t want to move yet.”
To prove his point, Eddie nestled further down into the pillow. It really was exquisitely comfortable, his allergies and those poor geese be damned. His nostrils twitched, but he ignored the sensation for the moment. Steve seemed to take his word for it and relaxed against him once more. His hand trailed down Eddie’s spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before settling on his ass, where it squeezed hard.
“Such an ass man.” Eddie snorted as Steve continued to grope him. He felt Steve’s grin against the skin of his shoulder.
“Well, maybe if you had more in way of the breast department…” The younger man teased. Eddie laughed.
“Dude, I barely have anything to work with in the ass department!”
“That’s not true!” Steve squeezed him again, followed by a gentle smack, as if to prove how much he had to work with. Eddie reached around Steve to take a handful of the younger man’s ass in his own hand. It almost made his mouth water.
“Maybe I don’t have the flattest ass in Hawkins, but I have nothing on this fucking wagon you’re draggin’, King Steve.”
“Don’t ever say that again, oh my god.”
Eddie smirked and groped harder, covering as much surface area as he could with one hand.
“Mmm. I could fucking live between these cheeks.”
“Please. Please stop.”
“I’m serious, dude. I’ll prove it to you. Promise.”
He started to slide a finger down Steve’s crack to tease at his hole, smiling against the crook of Steve’s neck as he hard him gasp in response.
“Better make good on that promise, Munson.”
Eddie kissed his neck, sucking at the skin lazily.
“If that’s what you want, big boy. Maybe I’ll need to sneeze while I’m inside of you. You know how these pillows get to me.” He purred against the column of Steve’s throat, feeling his racing heartbeat against his lips.
That had been the final straw. Steve used one strong arm to flip Eddie onto his back, the older man grimacing slightly as the sheets, tacky with the result of his own orgasm, peeled away from his stomach. Steve, not noticing or not caring, straddled his hips and took both of their budding erections into his hand.
“Fuck me, baby. Finish what you fucking started.”
Eddie shivered, cock pulsing against Steve’s fingers.
“Oh, yeah.”
#nametakenfic#s/tranger t/hings#sneezefic#sneeze kink#snzfucker#snz kink#snz fet#sneezefucker#snzblr
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Steve and Eddie- 💦🤬⛈
Thank you for the prompt, anon! ❤️ Here's just over 6k of these dumb guys being in love
E/ddie is in a grumpy mood and hoping that his date with S/teve will cheer him up - but a sudden rainstorm and bout of insecurity might get in the way of that
(I kind of based this after this fic and before all my others where they've been together for a while - I still need to write a fic about them getting together in this sort of AU I've gradually created - but you don't need to read anything else though, it's ultimately just snz porn 😅)
~~~~~~
Content: M/M, Established (but relatively new) relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing, pollen allergies, a LOT of mess (not too graphic but just in case!), blow jobs, cumming in pants, little bit of humiliation, just guys being dudes
CW: Just in case, characters feeling insecure about the fetish momentarily
NSFW, minors dni etc etc etc
“Heh-ENGXtchh!! NGXtchhh!! IGXT’chieww!! Ehdt’TCHIEWW!! FUCK, man…”
Eddie swiped under his nose for what felt like the fiftieth time since the start of this latest Corroded Coffin jam session. Gareth had closed the garage door for him in an attempt to fend off the offending pollen, but the damage had already been done – long before he’d even arrived, if he was being honest. These fucking allergies.
He pointedly ignored the somewhat wary round of blessings his bandmates offered. He was embarrassed as hell, normally able to stifle his hay fever into submission quite successfully if need be. He didn’t care so much about Gareth seeing him this way, not when he’d seen much, much worse over the years – but he didn’t feel like having a full-on allergy attack in front of anyone who wasn’t Steve right now, and even that was debatable. He cleared his throat and stood tall.
“Okay, second chorus, from the top!”
His voice broke slightly mid-sentence and he almost ground his teeth in frustration. This was a bad fucking allergy day. Normally he would have called band practice off with some half-assed excuse to avoid the aggravation. He should have learned about trying to suppress his sneezing for too long, especially after the recent humiliating debacle where he had what could only be described as a semi-nuclear allergic reaction at Steve’s house, in front of all his new friends. That everyone had been super cool about it, and that the discovery of his and Steve’s mutual fetish from that night had urged him to pursue the younger man, was irrelevant. He liked attention, craved it, but only if it was the kind that he cultivated willingly for himself.
Luckily, the sheer grumpiness he was experiencing today was somewhat working to curtail the inconvenient physiological response he was prone to after a consistent bout of sneezing. His cock was cowering away from him, not unlike the rest of Corroded Coffin, for which he was entirely grateful. Being in a bad mood still sucked - he took no pleasure in this moodiness. Tyranny was only fun if he was in complete control of his own emotions.
Gareth counted them in and they started up again. For about twenty minutes Eddie was able to forget his allergies and play for all he was worth. He’d been working on his vocals, trying his best to project from his diaphragm rather than screaming his throat sore, and he was thrilled to find that it was actually making a difference. He didn’t have that long to appreciate it, however, spinning away from his friends mid-song with a sudden wrenching gasp, falling into a fit of violent sneezes.
“IGT’TCHiewww!! Ehh’NGXTT’Chieww!! DZZ’Shieww!! HAGT’TCHieww!!”
They tickled so much his eyes swam with tears. They were also, to his chagrin, particularly high-pitched and desperate sounding. His cock twitched minutely for a moment in his pants and he blushed, hiding in his hair as much as he was able whilst his body spasmed under the assault. This was no good, no good at all. He reared back for the definitive sneeze of the fit, massive inhale stretching his chest to capacity.
“HEHH-ENGXTCHH’tsiewww!!!”
Holy fuck, that had been big. Not only that, it had been messy. He clapped a hand to his face to conceal the productive results, blush burning his cheeks. Still angled away from his bandmates, he fumbled for his bandana, cursing when he came up empty. Just his fucking luck. He sniffled reflexively, cringing at the thick crackling sound of it.
“Gross, dude…”
He span round immediately, anger and humiliation pulsing through him in waves.
“Why don’t you fuck off, Tim!” He spat, trying his best to look intimidating behind the hand clamped to his face.
“Oookay, guys, let’s take five, yeah?” Jeff sighed, placing his guitar neatly up against an amp before making his way into Gareth’s house. He slapped Tim on the shoulder, urging him to follow. Tim gave Eddie one last pointed glare before taking the hint and skulking off through the garage door. Eddie watched him leave, snuffling into his hand.
Gareth, who had silently watched the whole thing unfold from behind his drum kit, made his way over to a stack of shelves in the corner, retrieving a half empty box of tissues. He would never tell Eddie that he’d left it there specifically for him and that nobody had used it before or since the last time he’d been suffering with nasal difficulties at his house. He walked back over to his friend, punching him gently on the arm and pushing the box of tissues into his free hand.
“If I say ‘god bless you’, will you bite my head off?”
Eddie grumbled something that Gareth didn’t quite catch before turning around, balancing the box on his guitar and yanking a bundle of tissues out as best he could with one hand. The drummer gave him some privacy, mindlessly tinkering with the cymbals of his kit and trying his best not to wince at the incredibly thick nose blows that pierced the otherwise companionable silence.
The older man finished clearing out his sinuses as best he could and groaned. He hated losing his temper like that. Tim was right, of course – this was objectively gross, even if he would subjectively love to see Steve in the same state he was currently in. He leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, willing himself to lighten up.
“Bad allergy day?”
Eddie cracked open an eye and peered at Gareth, who was smiling with faux innocence back at him.
“Whadt tipped you off, Nandcy Drew?” He sniped, cringing only slightly at the additional Ds his swollen sinuses sprinkled into the sentence.
Gareth put his hands up in wordless surrender, smiling softly and deciding to leave it. Eddie was aware he was being handled like a recalcitrant beast with a thorn in its paw, and if it had been anyone other than the drummer he would have lashed out in response to the overcautious mollycoddling. But it was Gareth, so he merely closed his eyes again and listened as the drummer fucked around with various drum fills. He muffled another fit of itchy sneezes into a tissue, acknowledging the blessing from his friend with a nod.
“You seeing Steve today?” He heard Gareth ask after a beat.
“…Yeah. Unfortunately. I mean – because I’m – y’know.” Eddie gestured at his face.
“It’s no big deal, dude. He doesn’t seem like the type to care.”
Eddie knew that was an understatement. Steve fucking loved seeing him like this, and normally the metalhead would welcome the undivided attention and subsequent orgasms. But they were still so new, the pair of them – neither had been with a guy before (not that Eddie had really had much more experience with girls than a few drunken hand jobs at the senior parties he used to crash), and they were trying to take things slow. They hadn’t even formally named their relationship out loud, though it was obvious to the both of them this was far more than a mutual crush.
It wasn’t so much that Eddie wished they didn’t have this – shared interest, in sneezing. It was that he was painfully aware of how distracting he was being when he hung out with Steve. Sometimes he wanted to carry out a full conversation without sneezing himself breathless and leaving the younger man with a raging boner, driving himself wild in the process. Not that he could blame him – he’d just about lost his mind the first time Steve had sneezed against his neck, coming into the younger man’s hand in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
This allergy season had been so much worse than any other he could remember, and wondered if it had something to do with his stint in the upside down. It would be just his luck if all those nasty spores and particles had exacerbated his already impressive reactions to pollen. Even if it had been the catalyst to hooking up with Steve, even if he combusted with pleasure every time it earned him a blessing from the object of his desire, it was getting old, fast.
“Yeah, I know. But Tim is right, man – I’m gross. Sick of it.”
“Kid’s, like, not all there. I love the guy but he’s more than a little direct. You can’t take it to heart, man.”
Eddie nodded. He knew he was right. Tim was a socially awkward weirdo, the reason why they had all basically become friends in the first place. He was blunt, that was just the fact of the matter.
“Thanks, Gare. I just don’t want to fuck this up.”
“You won’t. I’ve seen the way Harrington looks at you – now that’s fucking gross. You googly eyed bastards eye-fucking each other, constantly. Yeah, don’t worry, he’s going nowhere.”
Eddie hurled a balled-up wad of tissues at him, laughing as he managed to hit the younger man square in the forehead and earning himself a disgusted shriek in response. He loved this stupid kid – he always seemed to know just what to say to cheer him up. He resolved to keep his temper for the rest of their jam sesh, nervously counting down the time to his date with Steve.
~~~~
He had to admit his low mood had at least been temporarily assuaged by the sight of Steve opening his door, a radiant smile on his face and visibly excited to see Eddie standing there. He drove the two of them out into a particularly scenic clearing he’d found in the woods – nobody else went out there anymore – and nervously laid out a ratty old picnic blanket and the food he brought with him. He felt pretty unoriginal, maybe kind of predictable, but Steve seemed thrilled all the same. Eddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling more in the past couple of months getting to know the younger man than he could remember ever before in his life. Maybe Gareth was right – they were googly eyed bastards. But no one else was around to see, so Eddie happily let Steve lay him down on the blanketed ground and suck a pattern of hickeys onto the column of his neck.
So far, his allergies were giving him minimal trouble. In the couple of hours after he’d woken up at noon (band practice was only at 1pm, so sue him), he’d been at his worst and taken a second round of allergy medication – probably just under the amount it would take him to get loopy off of the stuff. It had worked though, to a certain extent. He was still having little semi-regular fits of four or five, much to Steve’s appreciation, but it was just enough that he didn’t feel like a total mess.
He moaned as Steve sucked particularly hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder, vaguely aware of a creeping tickle lurking just beneath the surface. He sniffled and gripped harder at the fabric stretched over Steve’s muscular back, pressing his hips up against the thigh the younger man had lodged firmly between his legs. He continued to lean into the pleasure until the tickle proved too much – it felt even stronger than before, buzzing insistently and with malicious intent. Fuck, yeah, he was definitely going to –
“S-Steve, mm’gonna-!! HDDZ’tschh!! Higxtt!! Heh’ENGXTCH’ieww! ‘Tssieww!!”
He rocked upwards with the force of them, attempting to suppress them as much as he was able. He aimed them over Steve’s shoulder, delicate clouds of spray misting the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His cock throbbed against the younger man’s thigh as his own legs reflexively squeezed around it, forcing a gasp out of him. Steve tensed before moaning against him, redoubling his efforts and sucking even harder.
“Bless you, Eds. You’re so allergic.”
Eddie felt his face pinken. It was everything he’d been fantasising about months – being with Steve, Steve getting off on him, getting off to his sneezes – but somehow, in this moment, he felt more insecure than he had since his gnarly allergic meltdown months prior. It was so stupid – that whole thing had more than proven to him that Steve didn’t find him disgusting, that he could actually be perceived as attractive even at his absolute worst. He should be fine. Why wasn’t he fine?
The confusion and discomfort brought back his sour mood in an instant, and he gently pushed at Steve. To his credit, the younger man immediately backed off, helping Eddie sit up, a broad hand supporting his back.
“What’s wrong, dude? I didn’t – I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, no, you’re good. It’s just-“
“Allergies bothering you?”
Eddie looked at Steve, saw the genuine concern on his face, but also the way his eyes lit up over the mention of his allergies. His stomach flipped. God, what was wrong with him?
“It’s – it’s not that. I mean, yes, but it’s – it’s-“
He groaned in frustration, gripping his head in hands and leaning forward so that his long tresses fell over his face. Steve sat back, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts. Eddie could practically feel the anxious energy radiating off of him in waves. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let Steve think he was the problem. But god, was he? He opened his mouth to speak, not knowing quite what would come out but willing to give it a try.
“I feel like – and this is gonna sound so strange – but like – maybe you like my – my sneezing, more than you like me? And don’t get me wrong, I get it, man, I’m into the same shit – fuck, you know that. I just – can’t be sure, when I’m having these – reactions, that you’re, you know, with me because you actually like – well, me. Umm…”
He trailed off, letting the meaning of his well-intentioned rambling sink in. It sounded ridiculous, and he cringed waiting for Steve’s reprobation. Instead, he felt Steve gently tilting his head towards his own, forcing him to look into his eyes. He looked painfully sad. Eddie opened and closed his mouth, his vocal tenacity leaving him as quickly as it had come.
“Do I really make you feel that way?” Steve asked in a small voice.
He looked so crestfallen that Eddie had the distinct realisation that this must be what it felt like to kick a puppy.
“Steve, I’m sorry – just ignore what I said, man, it’s cool.”
He watched as the younger man shook his head.
“No. I can’t ignore it. Oh, man,”
Eddie watched him run a hand through his perfect hair, a distinctly anxious gesture.
“I’m not good at this, dude. I’m not good at making people happy. I’m always fucking up but I’m never sure why, and then it blindsides me.”
Eddie shook his head. He opened his mouth, wanting to reassure Steve that he made him happier than anyone he’d ever met before, but paused when the younger man raised a hand softly, signalling to let him finish.
“I try my best to do what I think I should be doing, but no matter what, I’m always waaay off the mark. I know how to hook up with people, but actually getting them to stay is something I just seem to be incapable of.”
He looked at Eddie and smiled. It looked so weary that his heart skipped a beat.
“If I came across, like, overly enthusiastic about the f-fetish stuff,” He faltered slightly, starting to blush. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never been in this position before, and I thought since you liked it too, I didn’t need to hold back. What I mean to say is – I’m good with sex, that’s what I know best. But clearly I’ve done a terrible job of making you realise how much I like you. Because I do like you, man – haven’t felt this way since anyone but Nance, and even then – this is just – it’s a lot.”
Eddie nodded, watching him intently. Steve ran his hand through his hair again.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry. For making you feel like I was using you just for sex or to scratch some perverted itch. I’m not very smart. I mean, everyone knows that.”
“Steve.”
“And I’m not sure how to make you see that I’m pretty much crazy about you. I thought maybe if I just – showed you in the way I know best-“
“Steve.”
Eddie reached out for him and pulled him into a fierce hug. Steve practically melted in his arms, the emotional spiral Eddie had sensed building up blessedly abating under his touch.
“I like you too. A stupid amount. And I don’t think I did a very good job of letting you know, either.”
He pulled back to look Steve in the eyes.
“I mean, what gives, man? It sounded like you thought I wanted to stop seeing you, or something.”
When Steve gave an awkward shrug, Eddie’s jaw dropped open.
“Harrington, you cannot be serious. Tell me you didn’t genuinely think I wanted to end things with you over that pathetic little monologue of mine?”
“Like I said, man. I’m dumb.”
“Ughh, Steve, you need to stop with this low self-esteem shit, honey,” The pet name slipped out before he could help it, but it didn’t seem to bother the younger man, who snuggled even closer to him.
“How about this? I stop ragging on myself when you actually let yourself believe that I want to be with you for more than a gratuitous lay, alright?” Steve said, jabbing him in the chest with an outstretched finger.
“Ooh, big word.”
“Fuck off!”
Steve wrestled him to the ground, pinning Eddie onto his back whilst the metalhead laughed with raucous abandon. Steve silenced him with a kiss.
“I’m serious, Munson. Wanna be with you. And I’ll back off with the – the sneezing stuff, if you want.”
Eddie smirked up at him.
“Jesus, you’re cute when you’re flustered. And god no, please don’t stop! You’ve convinced me. You like me, I like you, grass is green. We’re both not very good at this. I think we should kiss over it.”
Steve smiled down at him and leaned in to resume their making out when Eddie felt the familiar plip of a droplet of moisture bursting against his cheek. He thought Steve might have actually drooled on him for a split second, when there was another small splash against his forehead. And another. And another.
He craned his neck back to peer up at the sky. Clear and serenely blue only minutes earlier, it was now brimming with chubby, grey rainclouds.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!”
And with that, the heavens opened up.
~~~~
Eddie was pissed. No, that was an understatement – he was livid. He hadn’t had the foresight to expect rain – a summer storm, a typical occurrence in Hawkins, and yet. He’d been so set on taking Steve on a traditional, normal date that he had effectively mentally eliminated any alternative outcomes to their outing other than a romantic little picnic in the afternoon sun, followed by cuddling and sex. Maybe escalating beyond the hand jobs they’d been trading, if they were feeling a little braver.
“God DAMMIT-!” He cursed as the rain seemed to pound down even harder. Luckily, they’d been able to locate a sheltered area on the edge of the clearing and duck into it before it really started to pour, escaping with minimal dampness. And it was warm, so at least they wouldn’t freeze. However, they’d abandoned the blanket and food in their single-minded urgency, realising only after they’d scurried well out of sight from them. His irritation at this mindless fuck up was only further stoked by the physical discomfort he was currently enduring. The way his wet bangs clung to his forehead felt disgusting; his sneakers were damp and his jeans clung to ankles. Alone, these sensations and gripes were inconsequential – but combined, they were a lethal mood killer.
He felt Steve reach out and squeeze his shoulder in consolation. When Eddie didn’t respond, staring moodily down at his own knees as he sat hugging them to his chest, Steve reached out and pulled him into a clumsy side-hug. The older man grunted, not thrilled about feeling even more wet fabric pressed up against his own sopping clothes, but enjoying the physical closeness nonetheless.
“You’re such a grump. A cute little grump.”
Steve murmured in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. Eddie knew he could feel the responsive trembling, lips curling into a smile against the shell of his ear.
“Come on, Eds. Compared to what we’ve both been through? This is nothing.”
Eddie sighed, finding that although his bitterness persisted, Steve’s presence was a welcoming distraction.
“Somehow, Stevie, that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
“Want me to sing you a song? I do a really good Phil Collins.”
The metalhead snorted and butted Steve’s cheek gently with his own.
“You do not. I was present for that Karaoke fiasco, Harrington. Leave it to the professionals.” He jabbed at his own chest with a thumb.
“Whatever, man. You liiiked it.” Steve sing-songed against his jawline.
Eddie meant to respond, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the familiar but daunting sensation of an intensely allergic tickle beginning to culminate. He moaned, reaching up with a fist and roughly mashing his nose around, hoping to bully the urge into submission, but no cigar. He could hear the damp squishing noise his sinuses made, worrying his nostrils pink with the effort. He had forgotten temporarily that if anything seemed to aggravate his allergies even more, it was rain.
He glanced at Steve, already feeling his eyelids fluttering in preparation for the release.
“Hh-Hh!! Steve, really gonnnnaa-hah..!! Hh, Start sneezing in a minute, fuck….”
He took in the hungry expression on Steve’s face, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He managed a little smirk at the way Steve’s eyes flitted about his face, taking in his flaring nostrils one moment, his furrowed brow the next. He sniffled, more to watch how Steve would react, but then realising he was a lot stuffier than he had originally thought.
“Ugh, I’m probably gonna….make a hh-HH!! Hahh mess….”
He heard the soft sound the younger man made in the back of his throat, felt the way the arm slung around his shoulders pulled him incrementally closer.
“That’s ok, Eds. I don’t mind.”
“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t, big boy…Hh!!”
Steve blushed and shot him a bashful little smile. It was probably one of the cutest things Eddie had ever seen, and he suddenly felt just as shy as Steve looked.
“Can I…keep holding you? While you sneeze? Is that ok?”
Eddie pressed a pair of fingers under his flaring nostrils, temporarily abating the building tickle just enough to respond.
“M-more than okaayyy-HH!! Wanted that f-for-! Months, now!! Ohhh, Steve, Mm’gonna-!! Need’ta-!!”
“I’ve got you, baby.”
Eddie’s head swam at the sudden pet name, feeling as if he’d hurtled over the peak of the world’s tallest roller coaster. For a moment, the butterflies and giddiness threatened to overwhelm the need to sneeze, but as always, the tickle in his nose reigned supreme. He sucked in one final choppy breath before he was sent sprawling forward, helpless as the pollen teased him breathless.
“Hh-HHDT!! DZZSSHH’IEWW!! H’ENGXT’TCHIEEWW!! IGSSCH!! GXXT’Shieww!!”
He felt Steve pulling him closer, turning him effortlessly towards him so that he was halfway into his lap and sneezing towards his chest. Each sneeze felt as if they only exacerbated the tickle, leaving him gasping, tears starting to spill down his cheeks.
“HIGG’Shiewww!! EhhHDT’Tchieww!! IGXXT’tsieww!! HHhohh my godddDXXSH’Ieww!! Hahh!”
Everywhere Steve touched him, he burned in exquisite agony. His nostrils flared in and out as the tickle toyed with him, breath hitching dramatically. He knew he was making a scene; knowing that Steve was hanging on to his every gasp and sigh made the experience all the more pleasurable. His cock throbbed in his jeans.
“EHH’GXXTT’SHIieww!! HGSHHH!! GSHHH’ieww!! EHH’NGXTTtchhh!!”
His nose was running down to his top lip now, dangerously close to overflowing. He reached up with a shaky hand, intending to cover, but felt Steve grasp him by the wrist and gently lower it again. By this point, the younger man had shifted him to sit completely in his lap, and as Eddie hitched towards another round of impossibly tickly sneezes, Steve gently pressed his head down to lean against his shoulder. Eddie gripped frantically at the cotton of Steve’s shirt, grounding himself, before sneezing violently down and across the younger man’s chest. He could hear Steve mumbling reassuringly to him throughout.
“Holy shit, Munson, Bless you – Bless you! So tickly…It’s okay, I’ve got you. You sound so good, Eds. So hot. Fuckkk….Bless you, bless you!”
Eddie’s face was burning, both with the effort of the overwhelming reaction to the pollen and the intoxicating pleasure his own sneezes sent pulsing through his body. He would rather someone else sneeze, but damn if his own didn’t get him going when they rendered him a helpless mess like this. His cock twitched with every expulsion, the releases that burst out of him sending pleasant shivers rippling from the base of his skull to the tips of his fingers and toes. Steve’s breathless encouragement only intensified the experience for him.
“hh-HH-HDDT-!! HIGGG’TSHHIEWW!! TSSHIEWW!! EHHSHHH’IEWww!! ENGGXTCHHH!!!”
He felt mess burst from his flared nostrils with that last body-crunching sneeze, sending twin tendrils hanging over his lips. He felt Steve wipe most of it away with his bare fingers, and the kinkiness of the gesture made his hips buck. And still he sneezed.
“GGGSSHH’IIEWW!! Hh, HEH!! Heh’EGXTT’SHieww!! HNGXTCHH!! GXXXTT’Shiewww!!”
Finally, it felt like the tickle was cresting into a definitive, final explosion. He moaned, not sure if he could handle something of the magnitude the building sensation promised, but all the same he was gasping, head jogging against Steve’s shoulder, back expanding within Steve’s embrace. He hitched once, twice, three times before the sneeze held him on the edge in a silent grimace – and then he was lurching forward, almost sending the pair of them sprawling backwards onto the forest floor with the force of it.
“HEEEIHHHH’DZZZTSHHIEWWW!!! Hahhh-!”
He panted, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s shoulder and wrapping his arms round his waist. Dizzy and exhausted, he slumped against the solid weight of the younger man, luxuriating in the aftermath of that all-encompassing fit. He was painfully hard now. He felt Steve stroking his hair and rubbing his back with broad, open-palmed strokes. He opened his bleary eyes for the first time since his fit had begun, previously unable to do so under the persistent assault.
“Jesus Christ…”
He muttered under his breath, taking in the extent of the damage he’d caused. Steve’s baby blue shirt was almost transparent where it clung to his chest, saturated with the result of Eddie’s impressive allergies as it was. There was further mess dripping slowly downwards, gluing the shirt to his abdomen as it sunk into the fabric. He tentatively looked up at Steve, not quite knowing if he had crossed over the delicate line of sexy to disgusting. One quick glance at the former jock’s ruined expression was all it took to reassure him that he was still very much securely in the sexy camp. He smiled coyly.
“Told you I’d make a mess.” He sniffled for emphasis and rubbed his runny nose against Steve’s shoulder until it sported twin damp patches.
Steve kissed into his hair, and Eddie noticed that he was panting too.
“That was – amazing. Holy shit. I mean – wow!!”
Eddie laughed fondly at how winded the other man sounded, more than a little pleased with himself. It felt so good to sneeze as hard as his body desired, and to know that he was turning King Steve on by being a sloppy, allergic mess was more than a little erotic. He felt like he’d come with just a few brisk jerks of his cock.
“Mm’glad you liked it.” He giggled shyly, a little loopy in the aftermath of it all.
Steve lifted his head up gently by the chin, scanning his face with eyes full of emotion.
“Are you okay?? Fuck, that was so intense. Your allergies, man….”
Eddie nodded.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I mean, you heard me – before, at your place. It can get a little – ridiculous, if I’m not on top of medication. Or when I’m outside in the elements. Or when it rains – god, especially when it rains!”
Steve laughed.
“Yeah, man, I see that now.” He reached down to touch the slick fabric of his shirt. Eddie didn’t miss the way his breath caught as his fingers slipped over it.
Emboldened, he wiped his nose roughly along the back of his hand and a little further up his arm, grateful to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, before gripping Steve by the collar and pulling his head close.
“Want me to get you off, Harrington? Want me to make you come all over the forest floor?” He murmured against Steve’s lips.
Eddie was expecting a moan of some kind, but not the half-strangled groan that Steve emitted, reaching up to cover his burning face with a broad, tan hand. Confused, the metalhead reached down to grip Steve’s erection – finding a distinctly soft cock and a huge wet patch spread across the mouth-wateringly tight Levi’s that the younger man favoured. He gaped, eyes round in surprise, and stared at Steve in a look of silent amazement. Steve peered at him through the protective cage of his fingers and moaned again.
“I – it’s because – you were so-! And I-!”
As Steve flailed and spluttered, a grin spread wider and wider across Eddie’s face. Holy shit. He had made Steve motherfucking Harrington come in has pants, untouched. He had done that. Holy shit.
“Stevie, did you jizz in your pants for little old me?” He drawled, delighting in the deepening blush that spread all the way to the tips of the younger man’s ears. He leaned forward and gently bit one, feeling the heat of the blood radiating from the delicate skin.
“…Yes. I did. I swear, I’m not-! This hasn’t happened before. You’re just…so hot,” Steve admitted, leaning into the tiny kisses that Eddie pressed along the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.
“So sensitive, Stevie. I like that.”
He kissed Steve firmly on the mouth, both of them moaning at the sensation of Eddie’s slick nostrils and cupid’s bow pressing up against Steve’s own nose. The older man gasped at the sudden grip of Steve’s palm cupping him through his jeans, thrusting into it instinctively. He was about several pumps away from coming into his pants himself when Steve released his hold. Eddie whined, his hips chasing the receding hand in vain. He looked up at the younger man impatiently.
“Can I suck you off?”
Eddie’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that. But the answer was an absolute, resounding yes.
“Please,” he whined against Steve’s mouth, feeling the younger man smile before starting to push him back onto the soft grass and up against the roots of a tree. It wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, but the desire he felt for Steve eclipsed the minor discomfort. He watched as Steve eagerly unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, pumping it softly but firmly enough that Eddie’s head knocked back against the tree trunk with a gentle thunk. Steve paused for a moment.
“I should, uh, say – neither of us have been with guys before, so – this is my first time giving head. Sucking cock, I mean. I’m sorry if I’m not all that good after talking such a big game about sex before.”
Eddie let him finish, nodding his head.
“Well, Steve, rest assured that no matter what you do to me, you and your mouth have the unprecedented honour of taking my oral virginity. So go wild, honey.”
Steve blinked at him.
“Really?! You’ve never gotten a blow job before, not even once?”
Eddie rolled his eyes.
“Now I know it may come as a total shocker to the likes of you, pretty boy, but being the leader of the Hellfire Club and resident freak didn’t exactly leave me swimming in pussy. You’re my first almost everything, basically – or the only person that ever mattered.”
Steve started to jerk him off again.
“Aww, Eds…”
“Don’t patronise me, Harrington, I swear to god.”
“Sorry. Let me make it up to you.”
And with that, Steve took his cock into his mouth and sucked hard. Eddie groaned, reaching forward to grip gently at Steve’s hair but stopping just short, hands hovering in question. Steve peered up at him before guiding his hands to rest on his scalp.
“Just don’t pull hard, okay?”
“ohhh-kayy-ee!!” Eddie whimpered as Steve began to suck and lick him in a punishing rhythm, using one hand to jerk the rest of his cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth. The older man’s eyes rolled back into his head, once again thunking gently against the tree. Steve was a god damn natural. It felt just as good to have a mouth round his cock as he had imagined, moreso, even.
He panted, expression twisted in ecstasy, and looked down the length of his body to watch Steve work. They locked eyes, Eddie unable to look away as Steve’s head bobbed rhythmically, looking prettier than anyone had any right to as their cheek bulged with cock. He wouldn’t last – it was so good, too good, and he was already so on edge.
“God, Stevie, think you're gonna make me come already…! Oh god, oh fuck-!!”
Steve moaned, the vibrations travelling down Eddie’s cock and wrenching a keening wail from him. His eyes scrunched shut, mind replaying the intense sensations of his sneezing fit, the way Steve had held him, the way Steve had actually come in his pants over Eddie spraying him with snot – these pleasurable thoughts combined with a particularly strong suck against the head of his cock pushed him over the edge, coming with a wordless groan. The pleasure was intense, his strongest orgasm in a while, leaving his toes curling in his sneakers. When it finally subsided, he could only moan stupidly, fingers flexing in Steve’s hair.
He felt Steve pulling off of him, and watched as he spat a mouthful of cum onto the ground beside them. Eddie grinned goofily at him, endorphins overloading his system and making this sight far funnier than it should otherwise be.
“You’ll let me snot all over your chest, but you won’t swallow my cum?”
Steve shot him an overly dramatic look of disgust.
“You need to work on your diet.”
Eddie kicked at him feebly. Steve gently tucked him back into his pants and zipped them up.
“So…was I any good?” He grinned in a way that showed he knew just how well he’d done.
“You know you were, asshole. Are you sure that’s the first cock you sucked?”
“Well….I managed to reach the tip of my own with my tongue, one time.” Steve said nonchalantly, pulling Eddie upwards into a sitting position.
“Ha! Better than I managed. Almost threw my back out, and for what?” They both laughed at that.
“Hey, rain’s stopped!” Steve blurted out so suddenly Eddie nearly jumped.
“Shit, finally!”
Eddie made his way to his feet, shaking slightly as his legs were still a little wobbly in the aftermath of his first blow job ever. Steve stood up beside him and slapped him on the back in that distinctive fashion that all jocks and former jocks would continue to do for the rest of their lives.
“Let’s go find the stuff and then we can head to m-my place…Hh!!”
Eddie’s ears perked up immediately. He spun round and watched in delight as Steve barrelled forward with a sudden harsh triple, aimed haphazardly into an upraised elbow.
“HARRESSSHHIEWW!! AESSSHHHUU!! HHRRRSHHH’UU!! Ugh, god…’scuse me.” He sniffled and gently swiped under his nose with a crooked finger.
Even though he was still practically reeling in the aftermath of the orgasm he’d had not minutes earlier, Eddie’s spent cock gave an appreciative little twitch at the spraying sound of those powerful sneezes.
“Bless you, Stevie. Your timing is a little off, but I’ll take it.”
Steve laughed and nudged him gently with his shoulder, looking even more pleased with himself.
“The damp’s getting to me a little. Come home with me? It’s warm and we can…clean up.” He gestured towards his ruined t-shirt.
“Yeah. I’d like that. And Steve?” Eddie said as they made their way towards the clearing.
“Mmhm?”
“I think I want you to come in my mouth next.”
Steve yanked him forward by the wrist, breaking out into a half-run and slipping haphazardly on the wet grass, and Eddie laughed until tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.
~~~~~~
(Idk why I always write Steve cumming in his pants lmao.....he just looks like he would to me😤)
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Good day at work (S/teddie)
Yeah so this happened - the shortest smut fic I have ever managed! 1.8k of S/teve and E/ddie being kinky and in love
S/teve gets back from an unexpectedly arousing encounter at work and immediately seeks E/ddie out for some fun
~~~~~~
Content:
M/M, established relationship (maybe just under a year or so in), both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, E/ddie gets off to his own sneezing (but it doesn't really come up so much in this fic), handjobs, mentions of blowjobs, E/ddie and S/teve both getting off to accounts of previous sneezing incidents, mild voyeurism, masturbation, some fetish related dirty talk, mentions of allergy sneezing, no actual in-person sneezing now that I think about it - just accounts of it
CW: descriptions of spit, graphic descriptions of cum, S/teve doesn't ask before initiating sexual activity
~~~~~~
NSFW, minors please DNI!
Eddie started slightly at the abrasive click of the lock as Steve let himself into their apartment. He looked up from his book with a smile but barely had the chance to offer a verbal greeting before Steve was pressed up against him and squeezing his junk through his sweatpants.
“Uhh…” He muttered dumbly, watched as Steve yanked said pants down his hips and pulled his soft cock out of his underwear, starting a gentle but steady rhythm of stroking and squeezing. It felt great almost immediately; Eddie let out a shaky exhale and leaned back against the couch cushions he’d already been propped up against, head resting on the arm of the couch as he read a new fantasy paperback in their living room.
“I missed you too, Stevie, holy fuck…”
He gasped at a particularly firm squeeze to the head of his cock before Steve trailed his fingers back down the shaft and started pumping in earnest, much easier now that Eddie was hardening at an almost embarrassingly rapid rate.
“Good day at work?” He asked, putting his book to one side and allowing himself to lay back completely and let Steve pleasure him for all he was worth. A lazy smile quirked up at the corners of his lips as he peered at Steve through lidded eyes.
Steve huffed a small laugh and gazed back at him, pupils already blown and, if Eddie wasn’t mistaken, with a slight blush dusting his cheeks.
“You could say that.” Steve muttered, before briefly releasing Eddie’s cock and placing his cupped hand under the older man’s mouth. “Spit for me.”
Eddie did so, continuing to stare up at Steve, heated gaze unshakeable. Steve watched him back, though his eyes soon followed the trail of liquid pooling in his palm. Satisfied with Eddie’s efforts, he gripped his cock once again and started to pull and tease at an even faster rhythm aided by the added slickness. Eddie was gasping, hips bucking upwards and cock twitching in the cage of those clever fingers.
“Not that I’m complaining, honey,” He was cut off by his own moan as Steve’s other hand started to massage his balls. “But to what – hah – what do I owe the pleasure?”
Steve was really blushing now. It was painfully erotic to Eddie, watching his boyfriend squirm like this even as he worked his cock with the skilled grip of a god damn sex wizard. He was never shy about sex unless it was something distinctly…kinky in nature. Eddie waited as patiently as he was able, thighs flexing and almost pushing a seated Steve off of the edge of the couch as they spread wider, beyond his control.
“There was this guy, came into the store.” Steve started after a few more moments of weighted silence. “He kept on…sneezing. And it sounded like you.”
Eddie’s cock throbbed, this delicious piece of information skyrocketing his arousal even higher.
“Yeah, baby?” He licked his lips reflexively. “Did it drive you crazy?”
Steve’s breath hitched in excitement, an incredibly pleasing sound to Eddie’s ears.
“Y-yeah. I could barely concentrate. I wanted to watch him, but…”
“Too shy?”
“Mhmm.”
Eddie moaned, a low gravelly sound as Steve picked up the pace. He was getting close already, could feel the tension building in his stomach, squirming as he fucked back up into that intoxicating grip.
“Tell me more, Stevie.”
Steve moaned himself, caught up in the kinkiness of it all and at the sight of his boyfriend edging closer and closer to orgasm.
“He walked round for a while – I was stacking shelves in the horror section – or was it romance? Sorry, doesn’t matter, um – yeah – he was walking around looking for – something. But he just never stopped sneezing. A couple of sneezes, every like, twenty seconds or so. And he didn’t hold back at all. I think he must have been sneezing all over the videos.”
Eddie gasped, using both hands to grip the couch, simultaneously tensing and bucking as his orgasm lunged even closer. He could practically taste it at this point, so monumental in such a short amount of time.
“Ahh – Steve – don’t stop. Fuck – fuck! Gonna come soon, baby-!”
Steve didn’t stop, didn’t even falter, kept tugging at his sack and milking him with those long, tan fingers. He didn’t stop talking either, and Eddie let the visuals of his boyfriend’s story push him even further towards the edge.
“It went on like that for five minutes before I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was so hard–"
“Ohh, Steve, fuck,”
“-and I just shouted some kind of excuse over to Robin and hauled my ass to the bathroom. I could still hear him-“
“Fuck, ohh, fuck,”
“-and I pretended it was you. I jerked myself until I came all over the place, thinking about you-“
“Steve-! M’cumming, gonna cum-!!”
“-and how good it would feel to have you sneeze all over, on my face, on my cock-“
Eddie couldn’t take it anymore, gasped and shuddered before fucking up into Steve’s fist once, twice more before his orgasm crested dramatically. He felt Steve working him through it, elevating and elongating his pleasure as he strained and pulsed and spilled. It was intense, his head thrown back and face twisted in a rictus of ecstasy as his nerves came alive. But like any orgasm, it was fleeting, and he was finally flopping back against the sofa, muscles unlocking and feeling for all the world like every bone in his body had melted.
“Ohh, god, Steve…” He managed, laughing softly as the rush of endorphins left him giddy and pliant.
“Mm, that good, baby?”
Eddie managed to lift his head back up, peering down the length of his body at Steve.
“So good, holy shit. Come here.”
He opened his arms for Steve to crawl into, but to his disappointment his boyfriend got to his feet instead. Though confused, Eddie was satisfied to see the younger man's own massive erection straining against his skin-tight Levi's.
“Steeeeve, I said come here.” He whined.
“One second, Eds. I need to clean you up. You made a mess, babe.”
Eddie blinked. Oh, right. He did just totally jizz everywhere, come to think of it. He glanced down and noticed for the first time the lengthy stripes of cum glistening in an obscene series of spurts all over his Iron Maiden t-shirt. And if he wasn’t mistaken then that sticky sensation as he moved his head meant he’d actually managed to come on his own neck, and a little on the couch cushion beside him.
“Damn.”
“You can say that again.” Steve was back with a box of tissues – the very one that Eddie had been too lazy to bring with him into the living room earlier that day.
“Da-“
“Shut up.” Steve laughed at him and started to dab at Eddie’s shirt before realising the full extent of the damage.
“Yeah, no, this is coming off.” He scrubbed off as much surface level cum as he could before pulling it over Eddie’s head, ignoring the petulant protests as the older man was yanked up by his shoulders. His grin widened as a shirtless Eddie flopped back against the couch, looking disgruntled and thoroughly irritated at the manhandling so soon after his climax.
“Sorry, sorry,” Steve chuckled, hovering forward and pressing kisses to Eddie’s face.
“You missed a spot.” Eddie grumbled, and Steve leaned back with furrowed brows.
“Here,” Eddie motioned to his neck. “And here.” He pointed at the couch cushion.
“Damn, Munson. You fucking sharp shooter!” He laughed, using a new tissue to clean Eddie’s throat as he tilted his head back with a gentle hand to his chin.
“Not a sharp shooter if my aim is fucked. How the fuck did it get over there?!” He giggled, watching as Steve tried his best to scrub his cum from the upholstery.
“You come like a fucking fire hose, I guess. At least none got in your hair.” Steve smirked, taking a moment to tuck Eddie’s cock back into his underwear and pull up his pants before crawling into the embrace of his boyfriend’s re-opened arms. They lay like that for a while, Steve’s erection flagging slightly but still digging persistently into Eddie’s hip.
“Mm.” Eddie nuzzled into Steve’s neck, taking in the familiar smell of his skin, his cologne and hairspray. “You look like such a dork in your little work vest. It’s sexy.”
“You look like a dork full stop. Also sexy.” Steve murmured back, sounding for all the world like he was the one who had just come his proverbial brains out and needed the rest.
“Falling asleep on me, big boy?”
“Hmmf.”
“You’re like a middle-aged dad of three. I can’t really return the favour if you leave this sphere of consciousness, honey.”
“Don’t h’ve to. Did that fr’you, not me.”
“I want to do it for you too, Stevie. Want your gorgeous cock in my mouth. I’m serious about the vest. You’re so fucking cute.”
Steve sighed peacefully against him and cuddled into him closer, sharp nose nuzzling into his neck. Eddie held him tight, feeling so unbelievably happy and content in that moment that his eyes nearly prickled with tears. After a beat, Steve wriggled in his grip and turned them so that they were face to face. They kissed for a while, lazy and languid, until Steve pulled back and leaned his forehead against Eddie’s.
“Can we go upstairs? I really want to make love to you, if that’s okay.”
Eddie smirked.
“Make love, huh? And all this time I thought we were just fucking.”
Steve looked temporarily mortified before he recognised the tenderness in his boyfriend’s eyes. The sudden shifting of his features from ‘Oh, god, that was lame’ to ‘Oh, okay, it was not’ was so fucking sweet that Eddie’s heart felt like it was on the verge of exploding.
“Yeah, Stevie, I’d really like that.”
They cuddled and talked for a little longer before Steve was pulling Eddie to his feet and leading them up the stairs to their bedroom.
“Eddie, could you, um?”
“Sneeze for you? One step ahead, baby.”
“You’re so hot and so annoying about it.”
“That should have been my yearbook quote.”
Steve sat down on the bed and held out an arm for Eddie to join him. The metalhead considered this for a moment before dropping to his knees between Steve’s legs instead. Steve reached down and ran a hand affectionately through Eddie’s messy curls before cupping his cheek in his palm.
“Want you to cum in my mouth before you fuck me.” Eddie smiled up at him, nuzzling into his hand. “That good with you?”
“Yeah,” Steve sighed, pupils blown wide as Eddie unzipped his jeans and started to pump his cock in his fist.
“But first, I think I should tell you about my day, too.”
Steve quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh? Okay. Go ahead.”
Eddie grinned.
“So, this morning, after you left? I had the most insane little tickle in my nose. Must’ve sneezed at least thirty times before I could even get out of bed to take my meds. This ragweed is absolutely wrecking me.”
“Ohh, you fucker.” Steve smirked, clocking onto Eddie’s game.
“And that was just first thing this morning. Wait ‘til I tell you about this afternoon...”
Steve didn’t even make it to lunch.
#please enjoy this little fic whilst I try not to feel bad for starting and finishing it whilst having 3 others on the go lol#s/tranger t/hings#nametakenfic#snzfucker#sneeze fic#sneeze kink#snz kink#snz fet#snzblr#sneeze fucker
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oooh can i request 🥶🤬🤧 for st/eddie?
Ok, so this ended up at 13.7k 💀 it just took over and I kept going - thank you so much for the prompt! 💕
E/ddie and S/teve had been planning to go to a concert together for months. The day of, however, they wake up sick and grouchy. Everything continues to spiral from there
~~~~~~
Content:
M/M, Established Relationship, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, colds, contagion, mess, handjobs, fevers, they're just generally super fucking unwell but fuck about it anyway, fetishy dirty talk
CW:
Lots of fighting and angst, mentions of homophobia, Q slur is used
Some other notes:
- I've written E/ddie as having undiagnosed ADHD - nobody knows it's a thing, including him
- The fic is set in January 1988, so S/teve and E/ddie have been in a relationship for about a year and a half
- I'm a British person who cannot drive and has been to Indiana twice, I'm trying my best to make this scenario believable haha
Fic is v NSFW, so under a readmore! Hope you enjoy 🥰
If Eddie hadn’t been teetering on the edge of breaking point for the last several hours already, the car rolling to a miserable, sputtering stop out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere would have been the final straw. As it was, he didn’t know whether to scream or cry. So he sat there in astonished disbelief as Steve attempted to start the car, over and over. He watched his boyfriend slap the steering wheel in frustration through unblinking eyes.
“Steve. Steve? Are you fucking kidding me right now!? Why the fuck have we stopped??”
He watched the muscles in the younger man’s jaw tighten, refusing to look at him and instead frowning angrily out of the front window. His knuckles were white where they gripped the wheel, and Eddie could swear a vein was starting to bulge on his forehead.
“We better not be out of gas. Steve? Are we – are we actually out of gas??”
Radio silence as he continued to stare at Steve, growing more panicked by the second.
“Ste-“
“YES, okay?? We’re out of fucking gas. God damn it!”
Steve slapped the wheel again, grinding his teeth. Before he could help himself, Eddie burst into high pitched squeals of laughter. He sounded deranged, hysterical, but he supposed he was having a breakdown and there was nothing much he could do to prevent it. At least Steve was finally looking at him – though glaring would be the more appropriate term.
“What the fuck?”
Eddie concurred – what the fuck, indeed. But no matter how much he willed it, the nervous laughter would not stop. Steve had had enough, cursing as he got out of the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him. It would do no good to check for any petrol – Eddie had told him they were running low, but Steve just hadn’t listened. He checked anyway – the metalhead watched in the rear-view mirror as he popped the trunk and rummaged for a full cannister, coming up empty. At least Eddie’s insane cackles had fizzled down to the occasional reedy giggle. Steve got back in his seat, slamming the door again.
Several minutes of almost silence passed, both men staring blankly into space. An awkwardly loud sniffle from Steve jolted Eddie back to the present. He watched as Steve lifted a broad palm to hover in front of his gaping mouth, nostrils twitching in preparation for the oncoming sneeze. Underneath the exhaustion, the anger and utter defeat, Eddie still found himself admiring his boyfriend’s profile, eyes fixed on his crumpling expression, almost on autopilot.
“Hh-HAH!! HAAAESHHH’uuu!! H’RRIIISSHHH!! TSCHHHH!! Mother fucker –“
Steve fumbled in the glove box for a tissue, a napkin, anything to clean himself up with. The powerful sneeze had not only drenched his palm, several droplets running down his wrist, but his nose had started to run down his lip. Again, his search was futile – they had long used up any tissue or bandana they had to hand. Eddie sat in contemplation for a moment, then sighed heavily before reaching into the back seat for his things. He opened his backpack, glanced sadly at his Black Sabbath ‘Born Again’ Tour t-shirt, before wordlessly thrusting it in Steve’s general direction.
He heard Steve pause, hesitating, before he gently took the shirt from Eddie. The older man thought he heard a small ‘thank you’, but it honestly wouldn’t have surprised him if it had been a ‘fuck you’ either. Eddie grimaced at the sound of Steve emptying his poor, congested sinuses into his prized possession, arousal and frustration warring in his stomach. He turned his head in time to watch Steve wipe his nostrils dry, painfully red from hours of similar abuse.
Those sneezes had been notably louder and even messier than the endless preceding ones, which had already been amping up in intensity over the past couple of hours, making driving an increasingly difficult task. Eddie wondered if the silver lining of being lost in the middle of nowhere was that Steve hadn’t gotten them into any major accidents by sneezing them into an oncoming vehicle. The thought didn’t help him one bit, however. Silver linings, my ass. Silver linings could fuck off and die – much like he wanted to, in this present moment.
He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes closing against anxiety that flowed through his extremities in waves, engulfing him in a paralytic sense of doom. He really needed to keep his cool, but he was failing miserably. He’d just have to ride it out for now, wait until the panic plateaued and subsided.
He considered their current situation – both of them sick, with what he now suspected was the flu, given how quickly it had come on and the way his head was starting to pound. They were lost; they had no gas and their car was stuck on the side of a road with nothing but cornfields surrounding them as far as the eye could see, like some god damn B Horror movie. They had no food, no more Tylenol, no tissues. They had been fighting for hours. They were tired. It was below freezing outside, and he could already feel the lack of heating. It didn’t take a genius intellect to deduce that they were well and truly Fucked with a capital F.
As if some decidedly non-divine higher power had a personal vendetta against him – a suspicion which Eddie had entertained several times throughout his life – his nose was starting to tickle, again. More accurately, his head was abuzz with the desire to sneeze within milliseconds, giving him almost no warning or buildup before he was jerked forward by a fit of intensely itchy sneezes.
“HhdTT’chiew! Hggxt! Hig’xt! Ehg’xxt! GXXT’CHieww!!”
He had stifled the first one by sheer willpower, able to pinch his wildly flaring nostrils shut between a thumb and forefinger for the next few. The last somehow managed to barrel past his wavering grip, slick nostrils slipping free. He shouldn’t be suppressing them like this – not now, not when he was ill and the only thing it would seek to accomplish was a burgeoning sinus infection. His head throbbed anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, willing himself not to whimper.
“…You shouldn’t-“
“I know. Please. Just. Leave me alone.”
He knew that was the wrong thing to say, even after having said plenty of wrong things today already. He had heard the genuine concern in Steve’s voice when he spoke, and he could now feel that his previous anger had been rekindled, emanating from the former jock in almost tangible waves of resentment. He had often fucking hated his life before Steve, but this was the first time he’d ever fucking hated it since.
Steve was right, of course. He knew stifling would hurt him, and he normally reserved it for when he was unable to hold back an allergic fit in public. Here it was just him and Steve – his boyfriend, with the same fetish for sneezing as him. He should be sneezing with abandon, as he normally did around him. It pleased Steve, it pleased him, it didn’t hurt – what reason could he possibly have for bullying the sneezes into submission?
If he was being completely honest with himself, it was this: Steve didn’t deserve to hear them right now. It was possibly one of the pettiest things Eddie had ever thought, and he’d been plenty petty in his time. But right now, he wanted Steve to know how fucking pissed he was at him, even though it hurt to feel the same sentiment directed back at him. He had purposely twisted himself towards the passenger window as he sneezed, biting back the sound and hiding his face from Steve in entirety. He never thought he would be in a position where he didn’t want Steve’s roving eyes drinking in the visuals of his desperate pre-sneeze expression, but here he fucking was.
Eddie leaned his forehead against the window, eyes shut and jaw clenched. The cold glass against his skin felt wonderful, but it also made him shiver, confirming that he was indeed feverish. Just perfect. Wasn’t it enough that they would be missing the concert they’d been looking forward to for months, on top of fucking hating each other right now, without both of them being sick as a dog? He felt the threatening prickle of tears he’d been holding back for hours forming at the corner of his eyes, the final cherry on top of this shit sundae that was his day.
~~~~~~
Steve, for what it was worth, was feeling just as miserable as his boyfriend. Hell, he thought he probably felt worse – the guilt of ignoring Eddie’s warning about running low on gas burning like acid in the pit of his stomach. At the time, he probably even knew the older man was right; but he’d been so fucking angry with him already for fucking up their money that he’d barely listened to him. Admittedly, he’d been a grade A asshole ever since he woke up that morning, lurching forward with a throat-scraping sneeze, a nasty head cold already well settled in his sinuses. His prickly mood had practically invited friction with his sensitive boyfriend, who was also coming down with something himself.
He clenched the steering wheel with both hands and urged himself to calm down. The anger and frustration he’d been feeling almost nonstop for hours had left him shaking. Despite it all, despite how this was the angriest he had ever been with his boyfriend, he couldn’t help his almost pavlovian response to the older man’s irritated little sneezes. His traitorous dick throbbed against the tight confines of his levi’s. The fact that he couldn’t control his physical response just made him even angrier – it was a never-ending cycle of frustration that seemed to travel through him in an uncomfortable thrum. He hated feeling this way.
His sinuses buzzed and he reached up with a fist to rub at his nose, mashing it around so harshly he could hear the resounding wet squelching noises with each motion. He glanced at Eddie, finding him still slumped and motionless up against the passenger door, staunchly ignoring him. His turned back felt like a door closing in his face, the metalhead about as distant from Steve as he could possibly be whilst still sitting less than a few feet away from him. Eddie could be moody at times, but today was a whole new level of dramatics that Steve knew he had been the cause of. The sight of his boyfriend inching himself as far away from him as he physically could was incredibly painful, so Steve turned his gaze back to the steering wheel and tried to think.
They didn’t really have much of a choice either way – they would simply have to wait for someone to come by. He should’ve brought one of the walkie-talkies that had saved him countless times in his misadventures against Vecna, The Mindflayer, the Demodogs – but hindsight was 20/20 and perhaps given all the insane supernatural danger he’d been through, he’d neglected the very real possibility that the mundane could be dangerous too.
His head gave a sudden and sharp throb, wrenching him out of his thoughts as he cursed softly under his breath. He made a mental note to track down and kill the Family Video customer that had gifted him with this real sucker punch of a bug. The second the guy had walked in, eyes streaming and nose bright red, Steve should’ve hightailed it to the back of the store. But Robin was already off with another customer, and the guy beelined to the counter where Steve had been standing. He tried his best to smile welcomingly at him, pointedly looking anywhere other than his twitching pink nostrils.
The guy had asked Steve for recommendations on a date night movie, even as he took a damp wad of tissues from his pocket and pawed with it at his nose. Good luck with that date, buddy, Steve had thought whilst rattling off a list of romantic comedies that would fit the bill. He remembered that ‘Dirty Dancing’ had just come out on VHS, and the guy seemed to brighten at that idea, so Steve went to grab a copy for him. He handed it to the guy and hurriedly typed away at the computer, eager to get this dude and his germs out of the store.
He’d been so close, too, but as he turned to tell the poor guy to enjoy his movie, he’d been met with the sight of him sneezing, uncovered, down at his counter. To his credit, he seemed completely mortified, attempting to wipe the surface clean with an even dirtier tissue, but Steve had assured him through only slightly clenched teeth that it was okay, and to feel better. The man had all but sprinted through the door, and Steve set to sterilising the counter, disgust and arousal battling inside him at the realisation that the colossal sneeze had actually left visible droplets in its wake.
He should’ve known it would be his turn to get sick. It was January, and he’d made it all the way through December without so much as a sniffle, avoiding catching Robin’s cold earlier that month even after they’d cuddled their way through a movie marathon in her living room. It was practically unheard of that he would get through Winter without catching a cold. It was unheard of that he would only catch one. He had only hoped he could count on that good luck a little while longer, just long enough that he could enjoy the concert Eddie had been planning for months.
~~~~~~
Iron Maiden was not a band that Steve had cared to listen to, nor were horror movies something he cared to watch. Dating Eddie Munson meant that he didn’t really have all that much of a choice in the matter. Several months earlier, Eddie had convinced Steve to check out ‘Phenomena’ with him. The last film they’d watched together was ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’, which had quickly become one of Steve’s favourites – and despite his griping, he knew Eddie liked it, too – but he was well overdue a horror movie watch with his distinctly macabre boyfriend. It was totally worth it watching Eddie’s entire face light up, big brown eyes practically glittering with excitement, when Steve acquiesced.
“This one’s from Italy,” Eddie had told him enthusiastically as he pushed the VHS into the player, “But it’s supposed to have a totally metal soundtrack, and the director – you remember ‘Suspiria’, that movie with the ballerinas and witches?”
Steve had remembered, but it was less the witches that had terrified him than the dog suddenly ripping a guy’s entire throat out unprompted. He’d made Eddie escort him to and from the bathroom that night. He nodded.
“Well, that guy, Argento, he made this one, too!”
“Oh, goodie.”
Steve raised an arm against the offending cushion that Eddie flung down at him, the two wrestling briefly before settling in and focusing on the movie. Steve honestly found it horribly boring – it had that one girl from ‘Labyrinth’ in it, a movie Eddie and Robin gushed about regularly, but not much else was going on to keep him interested. In general, watching his boyfriend’s animated profile was much more entertaining.
It had been in a sudden chase scene, a young girl running from some unseen pursuer and towards a gruesome fate that ‘Flash of the Blade’ by Iron Maiden had started to play and Eddie had been head-banging rhythmically within seconds. He turned to Steve, completely and utterly ecstatic, child-like grin splitting his face, and Steve’s heart had been so full he’d been unable to do much more than smile dreamily at his boyfriend. When Eddie had eased up on the frantic fidgeting and belting out the lyrics alongside the movie, he’d snuggled up to him and breathed in the scent of his warm curls until he’d dozed off.
He’d woken up just before the movie had ended. A lake was burning or something like that. When Eddie had turned to him with a huge grin and asked him what his favourite part of the movie had been, Steve honestly answered “The part with the Iron Maiden song." Eddie beamed.
“You liked that song, Stevie?”
“Yeah, it was cool.” Steve answered, not entirely untruthfully. It was less the song itself – more that it animated Eddie in a way Steve would like to see every single day for the rest of his life.
“The lyrics are fuckin’ awesome, too – kind of like a D&D, intrepid knight kind of theme!”
“Totally.” Steve smiled at him.
“You know…The Maiden are coming to Indianapolis in January – I was gonna go with Corroded Coffin but they’re all busy that weekend, so – so what if we went, together? I know it’s not your thing, I totally get if you don’t wanna go, but-“
“I’ll go with you.”
Eddie looked so excited that Steve’s heart skipped a beat. Yes. More of that. Keep looking at me like that.
“Oh, fuck, are you serious, Stevie? Fuckin’ A, man! I need to get organised!”
~~~~~~~
And so, Steve had committed to the gig, nearly as excited as Eddie for their little trip up to Indy. It wasn’t often that they managed to get the time to spend more than their evenings together, even now that they finally had their own apartment. It had taken a great deal of planning, and it should have been perfect. But it had all gone to shit.
The first thing that went wrong, as noted before, was both of them waking up sick. They’d been grouchy, neither of them looking forward to the long drive ahead. Steve was resentful of the fact that he would be crammed in an arena jampacked with sweaty, drunken metal dudes, and Eddie was resentful of the fact that Steve was resentful. Steve hadn’t mean to put a damper on their mood, but he truly felt awful and couldn’t imagine a worse way to spend his evening. He would much rather stay bundled up in bed with his sick boyfriend, where they could look after each other and enjoy each other’s company in peace. Maybe when they felt a little better, they could really enjoy their mutual cold in a more…intimate fashion. But no. They’d committed with both time and money. Car journey and concert it was.
The second thing that had gone wrong, after a bumpy but still salvageable morning, was Eddie losing their food, medicine and other supplies that he had just bought at the first gas station they stopped at. They were good for water, a six pack of one litre bottles in the trunk, and they figured since they’d be grabbing dinner later that evening, a couple of sandwiches and snacks for the road would suit them fine. Steve had volunteered to head into the store, knowing how distracted his boyfriend could get, but Eddie had waved him off and insisted it’d be fine. When Eddie had strolled back to the car 20 minutes later, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, Steve had asked him if everything was okay.
“More than okay, dude.” Eddie had grinned at him, then opened his backpack to reveal a freshly purchased bag of weed.
“Where did you-?”
“Ran into a previous client in the store – he deals now, and he gave me an old chum’s discount.”
Steve pulled out of the parking lot, thinking to himself that smoking up later on might make the miserable experience of being sick at a concert more bearable than if he’d been sober. It was about 10 minutes later that through the brain fog he realised he hadn’t seen Eddie carrying any kind of purchase from the store, and hadn’t seen anything but weed in his backpack.
“Munson, you did – get us food and stuff, right?”
Eddie, who had been lazily leaning back in his seat and rubbing at his nose with the palm of his hand, suddenly shot upright.
“Shit. SHIT.”
Steve jumped a little.
“What, dude?! Are you okay?”
Eddie groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“I left the stuff behind the gas station – I put the bag down when I was getting the weed.”
Steve gaped at him before cursing under his breath. He looked for the nearest opportunity to turn round and swung the car back in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing, man?”
“We might still be able to find it. I mean, what the fuck, Eddie? Drug deals?? Right now?”
Steve could feel the anger bubbling up steadily, his regular patience almost non-existent. Eddie was more than willing to rise to the occasion.
“It’s not like I meant to lose our shit, okay? I just – you know, I forget things.”
“That’s why I offered to go in myself!”
“I’m not an infant, Harrington, I can function well enough to buy crap at a store.”
“Clearly fucking not?! You left our stuff and spent our money on pot – thanks for fucking asking, by the way - when we could have easily found something closer to the gig. Like seriously, man, not cool.”
“UGH, I didn’t mean to leave it! I got distracted and I just – it was a good deal and I thought it would help us mellow out. That it would help you mellow out.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean.”
“Steve…..you can’t honestly tell me you don’t know how much of a fucking asshole you’ve been to me today?”
“I’m not the asshole who prioritised a fucking drug deal over food and medicine!”
“Ohh my god, Steve! I bought our fucking food, I bought our fucking medicine, I just forgot it, okay?! I forgot to pick the bag up off the ground, heaven forbid a guy make a mistake every once in while!”
Steve could see that Eddie was visibly upset, and he knew he felt awful about forgetting their things. He was about to apologise for overreacting when he noticed Eddie freeze up once again, patting his pockets frantically and moaning.
“What. Eddie, what? What’s wrong now?”
“….Can’t find my wallet. I think I left it in the bag.”
Steve could have sworn he saw red. They’d put almost all of their money together in Eddie’s wallet, leaving just enough for hotel fees in Steve’s, a stupid fucking thing to do in hindsight but something that neither of them had assumed would fuck them in the ass later.
“I genuinely don’t know what to say to you. Oh my fucking god.”
Steve saw Eddie wince out of the corner of his eye, and he realised he had quite possibly never hated himself more than he did in that moment. He was acting just like his father, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The anger was so palpable he could hardly breathe.
They drove the rest of the way back to the store in silence. Eddie was yanking the passenger door open before the car had even come to a full stop, sprinting towards the back of the store. Steve watched as his boyfriend emerged from behind the building empty handed several moments later, taking in his devastated expression. He swore loudly before resting his head on the steering wheel, motionless as Eddie got back into the car.
“…I found a ten in my pocket, but we might need it for gas later on.” He heard Eddie mutter.
“We don’t. We need food and medicine more.”
“No, dude, we’re gonna need more gas.”
“And I’m telling you, we don’t. Come on, I’ll buy us stuff this time.”
Steve looked over at the older man and held his hand out expectantly for the money. The look Eddie shot his way was lethal. The metalhead slapped the bill into his palm.
“Knock yourself out, mom.”
Steve got out of the car.
“Rather be a mom than a brat.”
He slammed the door behind him.
~~~~~~
“Hh-HH! Heh’ENGXT’tchieww!! HDT’Tsiewww!! Eht’tchieww! Hh’ISSSH’ieww!!”
Eddie’s head rocked forward with the force of the fit, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. Luckily he hadn’t veered off course too much this time. He noticed suddenly that Steve had reached out to steady the wheel while he sneezed, and though the gesture was perfectly reasonable, he was already so angry with him that it just served to piss him off more than anything. He snuffled and elbowed Steve’s hand away.
“Dude, I got this. Leave it alone.”
Steve threw up his hands and rolled his eyes, a supremely immature gesture that made Eddie resent him all the more. It was a sickening feeling, being angry with Steve, and on top of his worsening cold Eddie didn’t know how much more he could take. He was angry at himself, as well. He felt stupid, so fucking stupid. Steve was right to be pissed at him for the colossal fuck-up he had managed to achieve – hell, we would be pissed at Steve had their roles been reversed.
What really fucking stung, though, was the disappointment and derision his boyfriend had directed his way. It was nasty and it wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced before from the former jock, even when he really had been an asshole at school. He was normally such a sweetheart. He understood that Eddie could lose track of time, forget what he was doing in any given moment. It was part of what had made school so miserable – he had tried his best but it was like no matter how much he tried to focus, he just couldn’t. Like his brain was on constant overdrive. He thought Steve had accepted that about him, really understood him. But the way he’d looked at him when Eddie had messed up at the gas station, the tone of his voice – it hurt so badly he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He knew Steve was sick, and that made him sulky, but fuck, man.
He heard Steve gasp beside him. They’d both started sneezing in earnest a few hours ago, raging their way through the small box of tissues Steve had managed to buy for them alongside a bottle of Tylenol and a single sandwich that they had split. They were down to just a few tissues.
“HAAAEEESHHH’uuu!! HARRESHHHIEWW!! TISSSSH’ieww!!”
Eddie listened in vague appreciation to the rich vocal sound of Steve’s increasingly violent cold sneezes, wishing he didn’t hate him so much in that moment so he could enjoy them in full. He was concerned at the way they had Steve tumbling forward over his knees, jerking against the restraint of his seat belt. Any thought of them actually having a good time at this concert had all but vanished at this point, but to admit that out loud would be to admit defeat, and mean they’d put themselves through all this misery for fucking nothing.
Steve swiped the last two tissues from the box and blew his nose, a thick, crackling sound that betrayed just how congested he was becoming. Two wouldn’t be enough, Eddie knew, and his suspicions were confirmed when Steve rooted in his pocket to finish cleaning himself up with a used, balled-up tissue. Eddie sighed. He had a few bandanas in his backpack – he could offer one to Steve now, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of talking to him.
They drove for another 30 or so minutes before Eddie started to pull up to a gas station. Steve sat up and looked at him questioningly.
“Why are we stopping at a gas station?”
“To watch a fucking movie.”
“Eddie-“
“We’re fucking obviously getting gas, Steve - we’re not gonna last the rest of the drive.”
“With what money are you getting gas?”
Eddie glared at Steve, patience worn completely thin. God, the way he was talking to him like he was his fucking dad, or something. It was infuriating.
“We still have the money in your wallet – it would only cost a couple of bucks.”
“No, no – we worked it out, this is just enough for our hotel. We can’t show up short, they’d turn us away.”
“They’re not gonna get the chance to turn us away if we don’t even ghh-get th-there-hh!!”
Eddie scrubbed at his flaring nostrils in a desperate attempt to mollify the tickle, but luck was decidedly not on his side today.
“Ehh-!! EGXXXT’shiewww!! HAHDT’chieww!! IGSHHH!! HIGXT’shieww!! EHH’TSSCH’ieww!! Ahh…F-fuck…”
The sneezes were intense and incredibly wet, curling him over the steering wheel and forcing tears of irritation from his eyes. He felt Steve reach out to steady the wheel again, this time not fighting it. He was almost trembling in the aftermath of that fit, an unwelcome combination of pleasure and frustration prickling at his skin. He sniffled miserably.
“Bless you.”
He blushed in response to the blessing, neither of them having acknowledged each other’s sneezing for hours. Perhaps Steve had temporarily forgotten to be angry with him, given the dramatic scene he had just made. For the first time in their relationship, he cursed their shared fetish - it was making things increasingly complicated. He did not like the mixed signals his brain was sending him – ‘never talk to Steve ever again’ and ‘fuck Steve in the back seat right now’ were about as contradictory as could be, and the confusion only made him grumpier.
He continued to drive towards the gas station, about to pull in when Steve’s hand, still firmly wrapped round the wheel, twisted them away. Eddie yelped in surprise.
“Are you fucking insane, Harrington?! What are you doing?!”
“We don’t need gas, Munson. I told you already.”
Eddie could hardly believe what was happening. He had never known Steve to behave so – so childishly. It was fucking rich, considering the brat accusation Steve had hurled his way earlier that day. He smacked Steve’s hand away and continued onward past the gas station.
“Fine. If you fucking say so, King Steve.” He got a small kick of satisfaction watching Steve squirm in response, but otherwise saying nothing.
“We’re switching in 20 minutes.” Steve mumbled after a beat.
Eddie grunted in recognition. He wondered if Steve realised he wasn’t due to drive for another hour, but he was feeling far too petty and passive-aggressive to correct him.
~~~~~
Eddie was practically tearing his hair out. Some way, somehow, they had managed to get lost. Like, middle of nowhere, cornfields for days lost. Both of them had driven to Indianapolis before without a single issue. This had to be a curse. It just had to be.
The road map spread out over his knees made zero fucking sense – it didn’t help that Steve wouldn’t let him turn on the overhead light, and he was instead holding a torch with half-dead batteries casting a flickering beam over the endless configuration of road diagrams. He was starting to feel a little car sick for his efforts, taking short breaks to peer out of the window and find his bearings. The last of the Tylenol was doing fuck all for him, and he could not. Stop. Sneezing. Case in point, his breath started to hitch yet again.
“Heh-!!”
He fumbled in his pocket for his bandana, almost but not quite bringing it up to cover his mouth in time.
“ENGXTCH’tssieww!!”
The first sneeze burst out of him, pink nostrils flared wide in desperation, dousing the map in his lap with a cloud of spray. He muffled the next three into his bandana, gasping for breath when they finally subsided. This cold – this flu, perhaps – was absolutely kicking his ass. These sneezes gave him hardly any warning, taking on a life of their own and pitching him forward helplessly at their leisure. He blinked down at the map through bleary eyes, noticing to his chagrin that he had sneezed a veritable puddle all over Columbus and the surrounding terrain of about 20 miles. Luckily, not an area they should be anywhere near – though perhaps it couldn’t completely be written off given that they could literally be on god damn Mars as far as Eddie was concerned.
He abandoned the map, attempting to fold it neatly for all of 5 seconds before he was scrunching it up in anger and jamming it back into the glove box. Steve had stopped listening to his suggestions ages ago, anyway. He just kept driving down the endless expanse of the pitch black road, sneezing explosively every couple of minutes. Eddie was no longer glancing at his wristwatch, slowly resigning himself to the fact that they would, in fact, be missing the concert in its entirety. He would cry about it later when Steve couldn’t see. Right now, he was trying not to freak out about the fact that he could have sworn they had driven down this particular spread of infinite road before – not that it looked any different, the only visual markers being corn to the left, corn to the right, corn fucking everywhere.
It's not like this could get any worse.
It was as this traitorous thought flashed through Eddie’s mind that he heard Steve curse and pull the car to the side of the road, just as it sputtered miserably and abruptly stopped dead in its tracks.
~~~~~
They’d been sitting there in silence for at least 10 minutes before Steve started to shiver. It was well into the evening now and the lack of heating of any kind was really starting to get to him. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, at least – it wasn’t that bad, out here. The night sky was even brighter than Hawkins, brimming with the light of a billion stars. He remembered the night that Eddie had taken him up to Weathertop Hill and they’d stargazed for hours, never letting go of each other’s hands. The thought of it right now made his chest hurt. He was positive that Eddie would no longer want to be with him, not after today. In a sad way, he was already in a phase of pre-emptive acceptance – a form of self-protection where he convinced himself that the worst was bound to happen, so he may as well get ready for it. Robin told him he had low self-esteem, but he liked to think of it more as emotional pragmatism.
A sudden small hiccup of breath jolted Steve out of his ruminations. He peered over at his (probably soon to be ex) boyfriend’s back and noticed it was trembling. Another slightly louder gasp of breath graced the air and Steve realised with a sickly, sinking feeling that Eddie was crying. Eddie was crying because of him. Steve had felt pretty fucking awful about his behaviour in the past but nothing, nothing compared to how awful he felt in this moment. The pain in his chest seemed to pulse outwards and engulf him in its entirety.
“….Eddie? Baby?”
His voice sounded so fragile he even shocked himself. Eddie froze for a second before continuing to cry softly, giving Steve nothing in response. Steve noticed that the trembling had become full body shaking. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a fit of sneezes that came on so quickly he only managed to catch the last one in Eddie’s ruined shirt.
“HEEEISSSHHH!! AEEESHHUUU!! HH’TISHHHH!! MMP’TSCHHH!!”
He blushed, wishing not for the first time in his life that he was able to control the volume and force of his sneezing. He normally loved sharing this fetish with Eddie, but in this moment it couldn’t be more of an inconvenience. He blew his nose as quietly as possible, which was not at all, before reaching out a tentative hand to rest in the centre of the older man’s spasming back. He felt Eddie flinch, but he didn’t move away. Steve frowned at the heat emanating beneath his palm, sizzling hot even through the fabric of Eddie’s long-sleeve tee. It startled him, given that he was sure he already had an elevated temperature himself – shouldn’t Eddie feel normal to him? Was he that much warmer?
He felt Eddie’s back expand under his fingertips before the older man was suddenly jerking forward with a series of tightly stifled sneezes, the first five almost completely silent besides a soft squelching sound. Steve rubbed a small circle between Eddie’s shoulder blades in a way that he hoped would be soothing, biting his bottom lip hard as concern coursed through him. Eddie continued to sneeze, finally giving in and letting them loose, the persistent cold-induced tickle leaving him gasping helplessly.
“HIG’tchieww!! Engxt’TCHIEWW!! ‘TCHIEWW!! Eh’NGXT’Tschieww!! Nnn….”
He’d thoroughly sprayed his palm with the fit, which he then wiped shakily on his thigh. Steve heard him sniffle thickly before drooping back against the windowpane. He leaned forward in his seat and placed his other hand on Eddie’s left shoulder.
“Eddie? Are you okay, honey?”
He heard Eddie mumble incoherently before a rumbling cough had him pitching forward again, muscles spasming under Steve’s palm with the effort. Steve cursed and rubbed his back through it. When Eddie’s breath evened out again, Steve used the hand on his shoulder to gently push him back into his seat. The metalhead still wouldn’t look at him, eyes stubbornly fixed to the right, but Steve barely noticed. He took in Eddie’s pale, tear-stained face, the heavy circles under his eyes, his painfully red nose which was leaking down to his lips. He looked pallid, and so, so unwell. His cheeks had little spots of colour on them, a sure sign of fever. Steve felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.
“Ohh, Eds….”
He choked out a sob. It was too much. He hadn’t cried since the aftermath of their stint with Vecna, alone in Robin’s bathroom - and even that had been measured, controlled. He didn’t cry. Harringtons don’t cry. But all the same, here he was, bawling like a little kid. He felt sick, he felt like an asshole, they were lost and cold and hungry and tired and it felt like the end of the world so he just cried and cried and cried.
~~~~~
Eddie had intended to ignore Steve to his final breath. He was too weak to resist as the younger man pushed him back in his seat and out of the passive-aggressive contortion he had worked himself into against the car door. That last fit of sneezes had left his head swimming, and he was honestly grateful for the comfortable upholstery of his boyfriend’s BMW. Even as angry as he was, the warmth and weight of Steve’s hand on his back had been, for a moment, the most reassuring feeling in the world. But Steve didn’t need to know that. Steve could damn well wait until he was ready to forgive him.
But then Steve started crying.
Eddie spun round, eyes fixing firmly on Steve’s crumpled expression. It was terrifying, like seeing a parent or teacher or other unshakeable adult cry for the first time and realising they’re just an overgrown kid themself. His boyfriend looked so vulnerable, so lost, so unbelievably sad that Eddie found that he burst into tears as well. His strong, powerful boyfriend, the same man who had leapt headfirst into a lake in pitch darkness, who had ripped a demon bat monster in two with his bare hands, who had faced paranormal monsters to protect his friends countless times – that man, his Stevie, was crying like a little boy who’d lost his mommy in a supermarket. And it was all his fault.
He reached up and squeezed the hand on his shoulder.
“Stevie…Please don’t cry, Steve, please! It’s ok! We’re ok!”
He was sobbing almost as hard as Steve, ignoring the way the pounding in head was swelling to an almost unbearable throb. He leaned his body awkwardly over into Steve’s seat and wrapped his arms around him in a fierce hug. Fighting be damned, this entire fucking nightmare of a day be damned. He just wanted Steve to stop crying like the world was ending before he actually died of a broken heart.
“Eddie-!! I’m s-sorry-!” Steve choked out where he had buried his face against his shoulder, fingers digging fiercely into Eddie’s back. Eddie shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Stevie – I fucked it up! I always fuck things up!”
Admitting it out loud sent a new wave of sadness rushing through him and he cried harder, squeezing Steve tight.
“Y-you don’t-! You’re not-! It was m-my fault, I was just….awful to you! You didn’t do anything wrong, I fucked it up-!”
Steve sounded close to hyperventilating, so Eddie willed himself to calm down for the both of them. He shushed him gently, stroking his hair and holding his body close as it was wracked with gasping sobs. He’d been such a petty tool, trying to punish Steve with his silence. Steve had been right before – he was a brat, at least he had been today, and he needed to fucking grow up.
“Shh, honey….it’s ok, we were both being fucking assholes. We are fucking assholes, and that’s why we work so well together. We’re soul holes!!”
Steve snorted a brief laugh between sobs and Eddie felt the icy fingertips of dread loosen slightly from where they’d been squeezing his temples in a death grip. He could fix this. As long as they could love each other, everything else was insignificant. They would be okay.
He continued to hold Steve, ignoring the way his back was starting to protest at the angle he was holding himself at. The younger man was starting to calm down, occasional hiccupping breaths shaking him but otherwise slowing his crying. Eddie pressed small kisses to his hair, conscious of his runny nose and trying his best to angle himself in a way he wouldn’t make a total mess of the expertly crafted style Steve was so proud of.
He felt Steve tense in his grip, and started to ask what was wrong when Steve rocked forward against the protective cover of his shoulder and sneezed violently.
“HEHH’MPPTSXHH!! MPP’TSCHIEWW!!! MPPPTSCHHH!!!”
Eddie’s breath hitched, blood rushing south as he felt every shiver, every contraction of Steve’s muscular body in his arms. The sensation of his pointed nose pressing insistently up against his shoulder and the sheer volume of each sneeze so close to his ear had him reeling. They’d been particularly high-pitched for the former jock, making Eddie think he must have had a particularly irritating tickle in his nose. He moaned softly and stroked Steve’s back.
“Bless you, honey. Poor baby,” he sighed, noting that Steve hadn’t made any action to extract his face from where it remained pressed firmly up against him. He could feel the moistened fabric clinging to his skin.
“Did you make a mess, sweetheart?”
“….Ymmf.”
Eddie took that as a ‘yes’.
He gently sat back in his seat, extricating himself from Steve and watching as his boyfriend’s flushed, dripping face came into sight. A thick strand of mess hung between Steve’s left nostril and the damp patch on Eddie’s shirt. Steve scrambled for the shirt in his lap, gingerly wiping the mess away on Eddie’s shoulder and severing the connection before bringing it up to his own nose. His eyes were puffy and sore as he peered up at Eddie, blushing behind the bundle of fabric pressed to his face.
Eddie reached out and squeezed Steve’s thigh. A sudden sharp pain speared through his skull and he audibly groaned, pressing his head back against his seat. Steve took his hand in his own. They sat for a moment, not talking, but for the first time that day the silence was comfortable.
~~~~~
Steve’s head throbbed in the aftermath of what had to be one of the most intense cries of his life. It wasn’t something he wanted to experience in any regular capacity. He was also terribly embarrassed, even though it was just Eddie who had seen him. Robin was constantly reminding him that it was healthy to accept when you needed help, or to recognise when you were approaching your limit. Some metaphor about a pot boiling over that had just made Steve’s mind wander to the food he had planned to cook for when the kids came round to his apartment later that week. The point being, he should definitely work on his listening skills and Robin was right. Again.
He could feel Eddie shaking as he held his palm in his own. The older man was leaning back into his seat with a pained expression plastered to his face. Steve cleared his throat.
“So….”
Eddie squeezed his hand.
“Yeah, Big Boy?”
“On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being ‘this is a total downer’ and 10 being ‘I would like to request some assistance in dying’, where are you at right now?”
He heard Eddie chuckle before moaning softly.
“About a gazillion. I feel….really fucking bad, Stevie.”
Steve turned his head to take in the older man’s appearance once more. He was deathly pale, looking even worse than he had just 10 minutes earlier. Steve tried not to panic.
“You look awful, Eds…” he cooed.
Eddie cracked a crooked smile at him.
“You sure know how to make a guy f-feel…special-hh’HH!! ENGXT’Chieww!! HDDT’chieww!! IGSHHH’ieww!! Hhh’HDT’chieww-IGT’chieww-ICKKSHH!! Ohhh, Jesus…”
Steve was unable to make out the spray in the dark, but he could hear just how wet and sickly each sneeze sounded. His cock throbbed in his jeans, unbelievably still as interested in Eddie’s impressive displays of sensitivity as ever. Eddie snuffled thickly and Steve held out the soiled shirt to him. Eddie took it and blew his nose on a dry spot, of which there were now exceedingly few. Steve rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of Eddie’s hand. His boyfriend groaned before speaking again.
“Ugh, I can’t fucking stop. This has to be some new kind of super plague.”
“Well, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”
He felt Eddie squeeze his hand.
“What about you? Scale of 1 to 10?”
Steve paused, doing a quick mental scan of his general wellbeing. He felt like ass.
“…A billion, maybe? Not as bad as you.”
Eddie scoffed.
“You’ve gotta be feeling pretty bad to cry like that.”
Steve bristled, embarrassment pulsing through him.
“I-!! You were-! I just-!”
“Woahhh, dude, it’s okay – I’m not mocking you, or anything. I was cryin’ too. Before you even started. It’s no big deal, Stevie. I just know it’s not something you do very often – or, at all, actually?”
Steve sighed.
“Yeah. You know – you know my dad. How he feels about – vulnerability, or whatever.”
“Yeah.”
Steve felt the ever-present tickle in his sinuses flicker to life, suddenly and with little warning. He pitched forward with another round of messy cold sneezes.
“HH’RIISHHHH!! HAARRRESHEWW!! ITSSCHHHH!!”
“Engxt’chiew!! Hh!! HIG’Tchieww!! Ingxt’chieww!! ENGXT’TCHIEWWW!!”
Steve and Eddie made eye contact at the same time, sheepishly turning to look at one another behind their protective barriers of choice – Steve’s hands, steepled to his face, and Eddie’s elbow, which he gripped steadily with his other arm. They burst into laughter, stopping only when Steve buckled forward with a coughing fit, Eddie whacking him on the back as he proceeded to sputter and choke. He finally leant back, wiping the spittle from his lips.
“What the actual fuck is our life right now, dude.”
“You know? I think it’s actually pretty on brand for us, man.”
Steve shot a sardonic glance his way.
“Elaborate.”
“Just, you know – the first time I really spoke to you outside of the occasional encounter at school? I was literally on the run, a god damn murder suspect. We fought demon monsters in an alternate dimension. I figured out you liked me because we have this fucking obscure fetish and you kept popping boners all allergy season.”
Steve groaned.
“Shut upppp…”
Eddie didn’t shut up.
“What I mean, is this: we’ve never done anything in an even remotely conventional fashion. I think I may genuinely be allergic to conformity. What’s another allergy to me?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I am. We are. It’s fitting that our first real fight be such a huge, dramatic affair that ends with us freezing to death on the side of a country road. Poetic, some might say.”
“We’re not going to die out here, man. Somebody’ll come by.”
Even as Steve said it, he was doubtful. They’d been driving alone for hours before the car had stopped and nothing had come from either direction since. More worryingly, though, was the fact that he could now see his own breath, and Eddie’s teeth were starting to chatter. He fiddled with the ring on Eddie’s index finger.
“Let’s get in the backseat, share some body heat, okay?”
He watched Eddie nod briskly, face scrunching up.
“Okay. Want to hold you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. It’s okay though, remember? It’s okay.”
~~~~~~
Twenty minutes later and the two were bundled up in the backseat of Steve’s car. They’d at least remembered to bring coats with them, but otherwise assumed due to the heat of the venue and the quick turn around from car to hotel to venue to car, they wouldn’t need such heavy padding. Luckily, Steve found an old blanket in the trunk from the last time they’d gone on a picnic, which was now firmly secured around them. Eddie complained the blanket was too scratchy, but Steve had replied that there was no way he could tell through his thick Winter parka. Eddie had eventually conceded.
Steve had wedged himself against the car door, the hood of his thick coat offering some cushioning. Eddie was lying in his arms, his back up against Steve’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. They nestled into each other, desperately seeking each other’s warmth. Eddie felt like a furnace to Steve – which, given the circumstances, was not unwelcome, but it worried him to no end that the long-haired man continued to shiver in his arms despite their combined heat.
They had retired Eddie’s Black Sabbath shirt as an honorary snot rag, moving on to Steve’s extra polo shirt as their new makeshift tissue. It was currently pressed up against Eddie’s face as he shook with yet another sneezing fit.
“ENGXT’tchieww!! HDDT’tchieww!! TSCH’ieww!! HAGT’TSCHIEWWW!!! Uhgg…”
He snuffled thickly, settling back against the younger man. Steve’s cock was hard, pressed up as it was against Eddie’s lower back. He loved being able to experience every tremor, every jerk that travelled through his poor love’s body as the sneezes rocked him back and forth. He knew Eddie could feel how excited he was, but they both ignored it.
The metalhead had suggested fooling around to keep them warm, and Steve had even entertained the idea, thinking he could maybe get past the tight band of tension squeezing at his temples. An orgasm might even lessen the discomfort. But then Eddie had all but swooned to the gravelly earth the second he attempted to get out of the car, and Steve had nipped that idea in the bud almost instantly. He sprinted over to his boyfriend and helped him to his feet – slowly, since that sprint had left his head swimming and black spots dancing before his eyes. He’d deposited Eddie in the backseat, grabbed the blanket, and arranged them as best he could.
Eddie had wanted to be the big spoon, but Steve had flat out refused, stating that he didn’t want to be responsible for squashing the older man to death in his weakened state. He had at least 20 pounds on him and the pressure of his solid musculature pressing the dungeon master up against the door was a surefire way to suffocate him. Eddie had argued that Steve was faring no better than he in the oxygen department, pointing out that he was still winded by the tumultuous journey from trunk to backseat. Steve told him to bite him. Eddie reached out and nibbled on his forearm.
So here they were, mercifully settled at last. Or, as settled as they could be, given that they were frequently curled upwards or jostled backwards by their damn near constant sneezing. As Eddie scrubbed his itchy nostrils against the fabric of the shirt, Steve pressed kisses to his fuzzy curls.
“Bless you, baby. That was a big one, at the end.”
“Mmm. They’re conspiring to kill me.”
Steve snorted.
“’They’? Your sneezes?”
“Absolutely. Always been out to get me, but now they’ve finally decided to put me out of my misery.”
“So dramatic.”
Eddie fidgeted in Steve’s arms, trying to realign himself to the choice position he had been in before his cold had so rudely uprooted him. Steve bit his lip as Eddie rubbed up against his cock, holding back a moan. The older man seemed to find a position he was happy with and went boneless against Steve, letting out a tiny little mewl of satisfaction. Steve tightened his arms around him, an overwhelming wave of affection urging him to draw his boyfriend closer to him.
“You’re so cute, Munson.”
“I know. Now tell me I’m pretty.”
“You’re so pretty.”
“Flatterer. Keep it coming.”
“You’re s-so-! Ohh, gonna-!! HH’HEH!!”
Eddie lifted the shirt in his grasp, angling it back over his shoulder. Steve frantically pressed his face into the folds, inhaled deeply enough to lift Eddie up an inch or two, and sneezed forcefully.
“HRRRRSHH’MPH!! TISHHHHH!! HAEEESHHH!! HEH-!! HEYYYESSSHEWWW!!!”
He groaned in the aftermath, head pounding. Eddie was right, this did feel like some kind of super plague. He was sneezing every couple of minutes or so like clockwork, and every fit seemed to wipe him out as if he’d finished running a marathon. He panted into the cloth for a moment longer, feeling his boyfriend clumsily wipe his nose and mouth as best he could from the awkward angle. He nodded, signalling it was ok for Eddie to lower the shirt. He felt the older man squirm slightly, curls brushing against his face as he angled himself back to press a soft kiss to his jaw.
“God bless you, Stevie. Such a tickle.”
Steve blushed at the attention, his cock giving an appreciative throb in his jeans. He once again entertained the idea of fucking in the backseat, was about to vocalise this when Eddie hissed in pain, head pushing back and digging into Steve’s shoulder. He could see the grimace on the older man’s face.
“Baby?”
Eddie didn’t answer, riding out what Steve knew to be another round of deep throbs in his skull. Brow furrowed in concern, he stroked an arm gently up and down his boyfriend’s side as the dungeon master strained against him. His erection was flagging, momentarily catching up to the seriousness and decided unsexiness of the situation they were in. The older man finally seemed to relax, a shaky exhale leaving him. Steve nuzzled his face down into his curls.
“Feel so bad, Stevie…gettin’ worse…”
Eddie was panting slightly, the small puffs of exhalation visible in the frigid air.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
He didn’t know what else to say. He could feel his own body starting to ache, head swimming with fever. It’d only been an hour since their car had died, but they’d gotten so much sicker in that time that Steve was starting to worry in earnest. He didn’t think they would die, nothing quite so dramatic as that, but they would need more water soon at the pace they were needily gulping it down, and he was worried about Eddie’s fever. If Robin were there – god, how he wished she was – she’d tell him to worry about himself as well, before rattling off about a billion different contradictory fever reduction techniques. He smiled at the thought of her, his partner in crime, feeling slightly better for picturing her face.
He reached for a bottle of water and took a long drink before offering it to Eddie, forcing him to drink as well. When they were finished, he snuggled down again into his boyfriend’s curls.
“We’ll be okay, Munson. We survived the Upside Down, we can survive rural Indiana.”
~~~~~
Eddie had no idea how long it had been by the time he heard the familiar rumbling of an approaching vehicle through the foggy haze of his fever. He and Steve were in a state of persistent half-consciousness. They would both be right on the brink of sleep when one of them would succumb to a tickle in their nose, shaking them both to full wakefulness. It had gotten progressively less jarring after the fiftieth time; it almost felt routine.
The metalhead could feel Steve’s cock, half-hard, pressing up against him. He ought to be surprised his boyfriend could still feel arousal given their less than stellar circumstances, but then he would absolutely be the proverbial kettle calling the pot black. His own erection would come and go with every fit of sneezes from either himself or his boyfriend, making him feel like a horny middle schooler. He was almost glad he was too sick to be embarrassed about it. Almost.
He had just finished mumbling a blessing to Steve, his boyfriend having sprayed down the front of his coat with a fierce triple, when the unmistakeable crunch of tires on gravel perked him up faster than an espresso shot.
“Steve? Steve! I think there’s a car – no, yeah, there’s a fucking car, man!”
“Holy shit!”
He felt Steve start and attempted to shuffle off him, but found himself flopping helplessly backwards, entirely winded by the effort.
“Ugh, sorry…”
Steve gently rocked him forward and quickly arranged him so that he was sitting up in his seat, before kissing his cheek and scrambling onto the road.
“Be careful-!” Eddie shouted, immediately regretting raising his voice as he doubled over with a hacking cough. He brought the nearby water bottle to his lips with shaking hands and took a generous swig, gasping. He could make out the headlights of a van pulling up behind them, then the rumbles of a conversation. Alongside Steve’s voice, a rougher, deeper voice registered. A man, then. He swallowed the fear that this guy might clock them as a couple of queers – or maybe he was a serial killer? They were screwed either way. He closed his eyes and listened. No shouting, just a gentle back and forth. He heard Steve sneeze, then the other man chuckle. It was a friendly sound. He relaxed a little.
He started slightly at the sound of the door beside him opening, looking up to see Steve leaning over him.
“Hey, Eds. Great news, this guy – Leonard – he’s heading straight to Indianapolis. Before you ask, don’t worry, I saw his ID. He’s delivering deckchairs, or something? Anyway - he’s got some gas for the car, but when I told him we were sick he said we could ride in the back of his truck and he’d tow us the rest of the way.”
Eddie smiled softly, happy to see Steve looking a little more animated, even if he did look like death warmed up. The eye bags he was sporting made his droopy brown eyes look even lazier than usual. It was worrying, but still cute. Steve held out a hand and helped him climb out of the car. He felt shaky on his legs, like a baby deer. Glancing over Steve’s shoulder he spotted a jovial, middle-aged man approaching with a tow rope. He was sporting a flannel shirt over a pendulous beer belly, peaked cap on his head and a huge copper beard engulfing his face. He looked rough, but his eyes were kind and his smile was soothing.
“You must be Eddie!” Leonard said, walking over to them. He frowned a little as he took in the sight of the two of them up close. “Christ, boys, you look just about dead on your feet! Pardon me sayin’.”
Eddie huffed a small laugh.
“No, you’re right. We’ve been…better.”
Leonard smiled at him, looking paternal and endeared. Eddie liked the guy already – he sort of reminded him of Wayne, albeit a much more chipper Wayne.
“Well, don’t you worry. You and Steve just hop on in the back of the ol’ dream machine and I’ll take you far as you need to go. Y’all said you’re heading to Indy?”
“That was the plan.” Steve confirmed, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible.
“Great – like I said, I’m heading straight over there, but if you’d prefer, I know a decent little motel just outside city limits that’ll have some vacancies?”
“That would be great,” Eddie almost moaned, thinking that even the grubbiest motel mattress in the world would be heaven right about now.
“Sure thing, sure thing. Well, we should be there in less than hour, give or take.”
“Um, Leonard? I meant to ask but – where exactly are we?” Steve asked.
“Just outside of Rushville.”
Eddie and Steve gaped. They’d somehow managed to clear straight past Indianapolis altogether and keep on south. Their faces must have successfully conveyed their almost comical shock, as Leonard bellowed out a rumbling laugh.
“You boys really got the short end of the stick today, huh? Come on, get your asses in the truck – I’ll finish up here and we can get on the road.”
“Thank you, Leonard, really – this is – we were really in a rough place-“ Steve started.
“Don’t you worry, now. Go on, get – there are tissues in the back. I get hayfever something fierce come Spring.”
Eddie watched Steve nod before his strong arm was wrapped around his waist, supporting the metalhead as he walked them both to the Truck in question. They had to pause briefly for Eddie to sneeze, a helpless little fit of six partially stifled paroxysms. Leonard offered a cheery blessing from where he was securing their car, and Eddie blushed. It was going to be a long hour.
~~~~
Steve woke up, slowly, pulled out of sleep first by the slow halt of the truck and then the gentle rumble of Leonard’s voice.
“Boys? We’re here. Rise and shine, now.”
Steve blinked open his eyes, taking in Leonard’s kind expression as he leaned back over his shoulder to look at them. The former jock was aware of the weight of Eddie’s head on his shoulder, and with a sudden icy rush of panic moved to gently push him away. It wasn’t that he thought Leonard would do anything to them, per se, but they needed to be careful. Eddie already attracted so much attention, not that Steve would change anything about him for the world – but still.
Eddie groaned and sat up gradually, squashing his fists up against his eyes and moving them in slow circles. Steve noticed that his boyfriend had left a little pool of saliva – or was it snot – where he’d been resting on his shoulder. They’d both fallen asleep within minutes, the blessed heating of Leonard’s dream machine wrapping warmth around them like the plushest of blankets. Steve was relieved, having been prepared for the embarrassing scenario in which he and Eddie sneezed nonstop all over the inside of the poor man’s vehicle for 50 minutes straight. He was already extremely grateful and a little shocked that Leonard had taken in the sight of their painfully obvious illness and let them ride with him in the first place.
“You boys went out like a light. Sure is nice to be young, huh?”
Steve felt Eddie jump beside him, and realised the older man had temporarily forgotten where he was. He patted him on the shoulder before turning back to Leonard.
“I’m so sorry we just passed out on you, sir. We didn’t make for good company at all.”
“Don’t you worry about that, son. You looked like you needed a decent night’s sleep. Speaking of, you should be able to get some more shut-eye at this little establishment. ‘Rita’s Motel’ – sure, it’s not the Ritz, by any means, but she’s served me well.”
Steve unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward to look past Leonard at the small building in front of them. The motel was like any other, perhaps slightly homelier than most.
“Thank you, Leonard, for everything. I, uh, I really want to pay you back, but – we’re running low on cash, probably just enough for a night here, and-“
“I won’t hear it, Steve. You boys are clearly in a pinch. Not a single penny will I take. Now, come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll fill up the car while you sign in, then I’ll be on my way.”
Steve mumbled his thanks, over and over, feeling and sounding like he was about to burst into tears at any moment. The relief was overwhelming. Leonard slapped a broad palm down on his shoulder and chuckled, assuring him it was nothing. They were interrupted by a sudden burst of sneezes behind them. Steve turned and watched Eddie catch another three exceptionally loud and sickly sounding sneezes in his upraised hands.
“ENGGXXXTCHHH!!! IGXXT’SHIEWW!! Hahh’ENGXT’Tchiewww!!”
Steve’s heart lurched in his chest. He willed his cock to calm down; the last thing he wanted or needed in this very moment was to shield a mighty erection from their kind-hearted saviour. Eddie snuffled, the sound thick and incredibly messy. The older man blushed deeply behind his hands as he noticed both pairs of eyes trained on him – if he hadn’t been fully awake before, he sure was now.
“Good god, bless you!” Leonard exclaimed.
Eddie blushed an even darker shade of red, mumbling his thanks and frantically searching for something to clean himself up with, or perhaps a hole to go die in. Steve reached back beside Eddie and grabbed the almost full box of tissues Leonard had mentioned earlier. Eddie hesitated for a moment, and both Leonard and Steve seemed to realise his situation as he made no move to shift his hands from their steepled position over his face. They turned around to give the metalhead some privacy, Leonard making his way out of the truck and offering Steve a hand down out of the side door, having climbed over the seat to follow him.
“You take those tissues with you,” Leonard directed at Eddie as he opened up the exterior door for him to climb out. “Won’t be needing them for a while, anyways!”
Steve reached out to steady his boyfriend by the elbow, supporting him as he jumped down from the truck on shaky legs. True to his word, Leonard escorted them inside the antiquated reception area and got to talking with the small owlish looking woman behind the desk. Steve quickly realised this was the titular Rita, and that she was just as friendly and parental as the trucker.
“Oh, you poor things!” She cried, taking in the sight of the two of them, shivering pathetically behind Leonard’s great bulk. Both of them blushed to their ears – the attention was nice, but more than a little overwhelming.
Within minutes, Rita had signed them in and handed over the keys to their room. She had given them a discount, the cost far cheaper than Steve had been expecting. He wondered if it had anything to do with the violent triple of sneezes he had pathetically muffled into a balled up tissue as he gave her his details. Maternal to her core, she had even thrust a bottle of Tylenol and another of cold medicine their way, free of charge from the little supply she kept on hand. It felt like the universe was righting itself for all the bad luck they’d suffered that day, putting such kind and generous people in their path. Eddie tried to offer the left-over money to Leonard when he came back in from topping up their car, but he refused.
“You boys take care, now. You need anything, you go to Rita, okay? You’ll help these kids out, won’t you, old girl?”
“I don’t know this ‘old girl’ you’re referring to, Len, but I will certainly be here if you need me, boys.”
Leonard gently slapped them both on the back before saying his goodbyes, and then Rita was leading them to their room. Eddie and Steve thanked her and closed the door behind her. They wordlessly shucked off their coats, climbed into the double bed, and were asleep in seconds.
~~~~~~
“Hello?”
“Uncle Wayne?”
Wayne paused for a moment, recognising his nephew’s voice but taken aback by how worse for wear he sounded.
“You okay, son? What’re you doin’ callin’ me at 6 in the morning? I thought you’d be out all night at that concert.”
He heard Eddie sigh deeply before the unmistakable sound of him smothering a fit of coughs crackled down the line. Worry spread through his chest, that old paternal panic gripping him.
“Eddie?”
“Y-yeah, sorry. Actually, we, um? We didn’t make it. We got lost. And then we ran out of gas. In the middle of nowhere. And we’re both down with the fucking plague. So. I’m at a motel right now, a couple of miles outside of Indianapolis. We stayed here last night.”
Wayne blinked at the sudden overload of information. When he’d registered everything Eddie had told him, he sighed wearily.
“How in the hell did you and Steve manage to pull that off?” He light-heartedly jabbed.
“Ughh, I don’t know. We were fighting, like, all day, Wayne. We’re okay now but it was just awful. And so fucking stupid.”
Wayne sighed again.
“Well, as long as you’re okay. Situations like this are the kind of thing that make or break a couple, so if you’re both doing just fine now, I’d say you have successfully navigated your way to the next stage of your relationship.”
“You think so?”
Wayne smiled. Eddie seemed to have perked right up at that, just as intended.
“I do. Now, what do you need me for, you menace?”
~~~~~~
“HHHR’RRISHHH’IEW!! HRRRSHHCH’UU!! AESSSHHUUU!!!”
“Oh my god, Stevie. Bless you, angel!”
“Mmn. Thank you.”
Eddie closed the door behind him, shivering as he came inside from his trip to the payphone. Rita’s Motel had comfortable mattresses but was alarmingly lacking in working telephones. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his coat, unceremoniously dumping it on the floor, before stripping off the rest of his clothes. He took in the sight of Steve bundled up in bed, looking painfully adorable with his messy hair and little red nose, before climbing in beside him. He nuzzled up to him, rubbing his cold nose up against Steve’s.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How’re you feeling, big boy?”
“Like shit, still, but better. The cold medicine worked. Headache’s gone.” Steve pressed a small kiss to his lips. “What about you?”
Eddie kissed him back.
“Compared to last night? Waaay better, man.”
Steve furrowed his brow and reach out to press the back of his hand to his boyfriend’s forehead.
“You’re still really warm, but not quite so bad. I was really worried about you, honey.”
Eddie closed his eyes, pushing his thigh between Steve’s legs and bringing the younger man’s hand down from his forehead to clutch it against his chest.
“Worried about you too, baby.”
They lay there for a couple of minutes in comfortable silence before Steve spoke up.
“Did you get through to Wayne?”
“Oh yeah, shit. Sorry. Yeah. He’s coming through with Hopper later. Should get here around mid-day, he thinks.”
Steve blinked at him.
“Hopper’s coming? Why?”
“He said he owed him one. Hopper’ll come down with Wayne, then he’ll drive your car back up while we die a slow, miserable death in the back of Wayne’s car.”
“Oh…”
“Why even call Wayne to come down in the first place if we have a car full of gas, y’know? He just didn’t want us to drive, and towing the car would be a huge pain in the ass.”
“Right. Sorry. Took me a moment.”
Eddie leaned forward and kissed Steve right on the tip of his nose.
“It’s okay, baby, you’re sick.”
Steve’s nose wrinkled up at the teasing touch of Eddie’s lips against the sensitive skin.
“Eddie, Mm’gonna…gonna snee-!”
“Don’t hold back, baby. Let it out for me.”
Steve obeyed, taking in a final gasping breath, chest swelling to capacity, before sneezing unhindered onto his boyfriend’s face.
“HAAARESHHIIIEWW!! AEESHHHUUUU!! GITSCHHH’EWW!! TISSSSCHH’IEWW!!”
Eddie moaned in appreciation at the sensation of spray drenching his features, eyes closing reflexively against the force of it. Steve’s sneezes were already so loud and cock-teasingly desperate on a regular day, but the never-ending tickle his cold had inflicted upon him made them even more powerful. Within moments, Eddie was almost completely hard, the sudden rush of blood to his cock leaving him more than a little dizzy.
“Fuuuck, baby! Such big sneezes. Bless you.”
~~~~
Steve reached for a tissue from the box lying between them – Rita had gifted them with another several alongside Leonard’s gracious offering – and gently wiped the spray from his boyfriend’s face, blushing slightly to see droplets starting to roll their way across Eddie’s cheeks to the pillowcase.
“Damn, those were big!”
“Mmhmm. Just how I like them. You’re so gorgeous when you have a tickle, Stevie.”
Steve reached down between Eddie’s legs, smirking at the gasp the older man choked out as he gave his cock a teasing squeeze.
“You really are feeling better, huh?” He started to pump the length, long, slow strokes that squeezed the head of Eddie’s cock before making their way back down.
“Fuckk, Steve-!”
“Is that good, baby?”
“So good, always so good, holy shit-!”
Eddie bucked involuntarily in his grasp at a particularly hard squeeze to the base of his cock. Steve’s breath stuttered, feeling Eddie’s thigh press up against his own budding erection as his body jerked against him. Moaning, he pressed their foreheads together.
“You wanna get off with me, Munson?”
Eddie laughed breathily.
“Is the pope a catholic?”
“Ugh, don’t make me think about God right now, man.”
“Why? I’m right here.” Eddie grinned at him, looking far too pleased with himself. The cocky expression was somewhat weakened by his miserable complexion and swollen pink nose.
Steve wanted to think of a witty retort, but any thoughts of meeting Eddie with some cleverly formulated response vanished the second he felt his boyfriend’s sweaty palm wrapping around his cock and jerking it with several fast, hard pulls.
“Ohh, yeah,” He moaned, losing himself in the sensation, eyes fluttering shut and teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He was already embarrassingly close. His own hand faltered only temporarily before returning to stroking his boyfriend in earnest. Eddie pushed his thigh up harder between Steve’s legs, and he gasped.
“Mm, you like that, big boy?” Eddie moaned, mouthing at Steve’s lips. Steve closed the space between them and kissed him, both groaning as Eddie sucked hard on Steve’s tongue. They couldn’t keep it up much longer, though, noses far too stuffed up. It didn’t matter; they exchanged small kisses again and again, hands working each other in the ways they knew they liked best.
Steve peered down his nose at Eddie, his boyfriend’s face a rictus of concentrated pleasure, eyelashes fluttering above blushing cheeks as he panted and moaned. He looked so good like this; Steve felt himself lurch even closer to orgasm. He pictured the older man sneezing messily, an endless fit on loop for him in his mind, even as he stared at Eddie’s nose just at the end of his own. His nostrils would flare every now and then, in pleasure rather than in response to a burgeoning tickle. The subtle movements were such a tease – Steve wanted to watch those poor pink nostrils flare to capacity as Eddie built to a powerful sneezing fit. He cock throbbed against his boyfriend’s fingers.
Mind made up, Steve pushed their noses together and rubbed them back and forth. Eddie glanced down at them, slightly bewildered and looking temporarily cross-eyed. It was so cute – Steve chuckled under his breath, all the while continuing to rub his nose against Eddie’s, hoping to coax a sneeze (or five) out of him. He felt Eddie’s nostrils flaring wildly as he rubbed his nose down the side of the metalhead’s twitching appendage. His own nostrils flared minutely in a sort of sympathy twitch.
“Hh-HH!! Ohh, Stevie, s’gonna make me – make me-!!”
Steve groaned, just about managing to hold back from coming at his boyfriend’s words. He loved that Eddie played up every tickle for his pleasure, knew just what to say to work him all the way up. He nuzzled their noses together, slowly, feeling every tick of Eddie’s nostrils against him as they flared wide. A few more breathy, mewling gasps escaped from the older man before he was pulling back with a frantic urgency.
Steve started to come at the sight of the metalhead poised right on the precipice of losing all control. His eyebrows arched, mouth hanging slack as his nostrils twitched and twitched. He buckled forward at last, aiming each sneeze down between them. Steve’s orgasm engulfed him as he felt his boyfriend’s fit bathe his cock in spray, huge, cold-induced sneezes that he himself had helped to tease out.
“HIDDDTT’SHIEEWWW!! AHDDTT’ZSHIEWW!! EHh-NGXTCH’CHIEWW!! GXXTSH’TZSIEW!!”
A few more desperate, hitching gasps before a final, definitive “EHH’DZZTT’TSCHIEWW!!!” burst out of Eddie, so strong he trembled with it.
The orgasm continued to pulse outwards from his cock and throughout his limbs, the sweetest pleasure, leaving him shaking and moaning the metalhead’s name, coming in heavy spurts into the cage of his fingers.
He wound down from his peak, feeling sleepy all at once but willing himself to stay awake. Eddie was staring at him with a look of such intense desire that Steve’s spent cock pulsed pitifully in response. His grip retightened on Eddie’s cock and he resumed his stroking, desperate to watch his boyfriend fall into an orgasm of his own.
“Bless you, baby, fuckkk. That felt so good. You’re incredible.”
Eddie groaned, sniffling at the slight mess that dripped from his nose after that body-bending fit. He looked up at Steve before raising his hand to his lips and licking at the mess the former jock had left all over his fingers.
“Mm. You taste amazing, Stevie. Not that I can taste all that much right now.” He flashed a cheeky grin at Steve.
Steve grinned back and pulled Eddie closer to him with his free arm, pressing their chests flush together. It made jerking his boyfriend off a little harder, but they both sighed in satisfaction at the skin contact. Steve felt Eddie’s thighs starting to twitch, saw how his face had started to screw up – sure signs of his approaching orgasm. Not to mention the filthy, nonsensical ramblings pouring from his mouth that normally started up when he began to fall to pieces.
Eddie reached up to cup Steve’s cheek with his clean hand, tilting his face towards him.
“Do you have a tickle, baby? Sneeze for me?”
Steve sniffled experimentally. His cold had left him with a near-constant tickle just on the edge of fully culminating. He reached up briefly to rub the tip of his nose in small circles, feeling his breath catch as the tickle started to build anew. He sniffled a few more times for good measure.
“Yeah….oh-hohhh, yeah, definitely gonna…gonna sneeze..!”
“Unnnhh, Stevie!”
As Steve’s eyes started to flutter shut, he took in the sight of his boyfriend frozen right on the edge of orgasm. He was flushed all the way down to his chest, tattoos standing out in stark contrast. He was so damn pretty. Steve gasped, burying his nose in the crook of Eddie’s neck.
“Get ready, baby-! It’s coming…gonna sneeze for you...HH-HAH!!”
One more final inhale, chest expanding against Eddie’s, before the tickle crested and he was pitching forward helplessly.
“HAHH’TISSSCHHH’IEWW!! ITSCCHHHIEWW!! HH-H-HUHH!! HUHHRESSHHHOOOhh!!”
Eddie’s strangled moan was loud in his ear as he snuffled against his neck, strong arm wrapped around the older man’s slender waist, feeling him strain and shiver against him. It looked and sounded like a particularly intense orgasm for the metalhead, and Steve felt a sort of pride mingled with affection spreading through his chest. He loved making Eddie feel good. He felt his hard cock jerk in his grasp, painting his fingers and both of their lower stomachs in hot stripes of cum.
Steve was almost asleep as his boyfriend came down from his high, mumbling and giggling as endorphins rushed through his system.
“Ohh, Steve, holy fuck!”
“Mmf.” Steve snuggled closer to Eddie, nestling up to him with the intention to pass the fuck out.
“Stevie. Steve. Not yet, honey. We need to clean up. And put some clothes on before Wayne gets here.”
Steve stubbornly did not budge, even as Eddie’s captured cock softened in his limp grasp.
“Noooo. They won’t be here for hours, anyway…” He nestled further into Eddie, then moaned in displeasure as his boyfriend wriggled free.
“Nuh-uh. Up, now. I don’t trust you to wake up in time. Not after that nut, and with that fever.”
“Ungggg……okay……”
Eddie helped Steve sit up, both of them swooning at the effort. Now that their orgasms had cleared their heads, the discomfort of their sickness was starting to filter through the afterglow. Eddie wiped Steve’s hand clean with a fresh tissue.
“Let’s jump in the shower – just for a couple of minutes, dude, stop whining! We smell like sick people and cum.”
Steve nodded. Eddie may be blunt, but he was right. He squeezed his hand in his own.
“Okay. I really, really love you, by the way. Let’s not fight over stupid shit anymore. Please?”
Eddie kissed him softly before wrapping his arms around Steve’s muscular shoulders.
“Yeah. No more fighting. Love you so much.”
They held each other for a couple more minutes before stumbling to their feet, shaky on their legs en route to the small bathroom and finding it hilarious. Their weekend might not have gone even remotely as planned, but neither of them regretted it, knowing they’d look back on it all one day and remember only the love they felt for each other as the tepid shower water sluiced over their feverish skin.
#it's.....a lot sappier than I usually write#sneezefic#nametakenfic#s/tranger t/hings#sneeze kink#snz fet#snz kink#snzfucker#snzblr
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🤧💣 steddie??
Thank you for the prompt, anon! I torture E/ddie more often so I thought I'd go with S/teve this time. Hope you enjoy! 💕
S/teve has a nasty cold that's left him miserably congested; E/ddie suggests he try Chhinkni with pretty impressive results
~~~~~~
Content:
M/M, established relationship, modern AU so I could insert a Chhinkni scenario lol, both S/teve and E/ddie have the fetish, masturbation, little bit of verbal teasing / dirty talk, E/ddie catching S/teve's sneezes, care-taking, tissues, mess (but not described too explicitly), contagion, manually induced sneezes, natural cold sneezes
NSFW as per, so under a read more - you know the drill
“Come on, Stevie. I think it’ll really help.”
Steve glanced warily at the vial of chhinkni powder Eddie held in his outstretched palm. His boyfriend, perched next to him on the side of the bed, peered up at him with a soft, crooked smile, and the younger man could already feel his resistance weakening. Stupid Eddie and his stupidly gorgeous everything. He coughed gently and nestled back further into the pillows Eddie had arranged for him so that he could sit up, as if even the closer proximity to that little container could cause him imminent damage.
“I don’t know, Eds…I don’t think I could take burning sinuses on top of all th-his congest…ion-!! HAH-AAESSSHUU!!”
Steve lurched forward with a powerful sneeze, barely catching the last of it with a shaking palm. It had been a huge, spraying affair - he licked the resulting moisture off his lips and grimaced slightly at the droplets glittering on his palm. He sniffled experimentally to see if the force of it had been enough to shift anything in his nasal cavities, but no cigar. The mess stubbornly sat there in his sinuses, leaving them throbbing miserably. His head felt like it weighed a ton.
Eddie reached out with a tissue and scrubbed away at the spray on Steve’s palm.
“Oh, bless you, honey…” He practically sighed, voice a breathy mixture of arousal and concern.
Steve knew if his hand had faired that badly against the sneeze, Eddie had absolutely received the brunt of it. He knew his boyfriend didn’t care – he actively wanted Steve to let loose around him – and normally this wouldn’t be a problem. Steve would love to see the older man come down with a sneezy, sniffly cold, especially one he had given to him, but this particular sickness was so unbelievably miserable that the usual enjoyment of allowing himself to be a sloppy mess around Eddie was tarnished by the concern that he could make him feel as awful as he himself currently did.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t see that one coming.”
Eddie shook his head, looking at Steve with so much adoration that he felt his stomach fluttering in return.
“No, baby, you’re fine. Just let them out as they come. Did that help at all?”
Steve sighed and leaned back into the pillows.
“No. Still completely stuffed up. Fuck, this sucks!”
Eddie gently rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb in what he hoped was a soothing motion.
“I’m sorry you feel so bad, Stevie. I really think the chhinkni’d help you out. Just a little bit! You’ve been sneezing all day anyway, what’s a dozen more?”
Steve shot a deadpan look his way.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Pervert.” He teased.
Eddie just grinned at him and softly batted the side of his head.
“You’re a menace. And yeah, I would like that, because it would probably ease your suffering, you stubborn ass!”
There was no malice in his tone, but Steve didn’t miss the genuine creeping exasperation that lingered underneath.
He felt bad for worrying his boyfriend – it wasn’t as though he had intentionally decided to block his own sinuses up to the point of consistent mouth-breathing and feeling his ears pop every time he attempted to breathe through his nostrils. He should be leaping at the chance to end this misery. But the chhinkni…
They’d both learned about the sneezing powder online the way any other person with their shared fetish had – it seemed like an absolute dream come true with the way it teased prolonged, intense fits out of anyone who tried it, and they’d jumped at the chance to try it themselves. They had, however, had mixed results.
Eddie had volunteered to go first when the package had arrived. However, in typical Eddie fashion, he had been overly enthusiastic with the initial dose, entirely uninterested in following the recommended guidelines. He’d snorted a line of it like cocaine, and minutes later he’d been sneezing so much Steve eventually became worried he’d hyperventilate. When he’d finally managed to get Eddie under control, forcing him to blow his nose and take measured breaths, they’d both been too freaked out to go near the stuff again for weeks. Never mind the fact that Steve had orgasmed untouched in his jeans as he held his boyfriend bucking repeatedly in his arms.
They’d tried again with Eddie, this time taking the correct dosage, and found that it worked just as well as his pollen allergies without the prolonged suffering that occurred if he overexposed himself to some particularly strong flowers. It was a success, and the little vial was placed in their nighstand with the plethora of other inducing tools they kept on hand.
Following Eddie’s persistent requests and the mounting pressure of his own curiosity, Steve eventually gave in and decided to indulge his boyfriend. His nose wasn’t nearly as sensitive as Eddie’s (though that wasn’t saying too much – he’d never known another person alive as sensitive as the dungeon master), but he was still a little worried about having a negative reaction. Eddie had insisted that that one time was because he had been a moron and not because of anything wrong with the powder itself. Steve eventually agreed he was probably right, and he had gotten off enough times to his boyfriend’s reaction to the stuff that it was only fair he try it himself.
He'd snorted a small, pea-sized amount of powder, and leaned back where he perched on his boyfriend’s lap, waiting for the magical stuff to take over. Said metalhead looked up with eyes practically boring into him with lust, gripping his hips tightly in anticipation for what they both hoped would be a lengthy and violent reaction. Unfortunately, Steve had only sneezed once, a throaty and tortured “HARRRSHHHUU!!!” left hanging between them before he had hissed in pain and clutched at his face.
30 minutes later, after an intense nasal irrigation operation involving a nettie pot and their bathroom sink, Steve leant forward, bleary-eyed and exhausted with a concerned Eddie rubbing his back and pressing kisses to his shoulder blades. Eddie had been devastated, blaming himself completely for Steve’s unfortunate reaction, which Steve had repeatedly assured him was not his fault. They’d called it quits for the evening, neither of them feeling like fooling around anymore. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms watching some dumb 80s slasher movie, and in the morning Steve had sworn off the chhinkni for life.
Which was why he was currently eyeing the distinctive little vial with undisguised distaste. But Eddie seemed adamant that he try it, and he had to admit his resolve was steadily wavering.
“You know, before our little…community discovered this stuff, it was made specifically to ease congestion from colds. It’s literal cold medicine, Steve.”
Steve scoffed at that. Eddie pointedly ignored him.
“I mean, dude – I know you had a bad time before, but that was when you weren’t already stuffed the fuck up. It shouldn’t burn – honestly, I’m not even sure you’ll feel anything right now. Your airways are totally blocked.”
Steve supposed he had a point.
“But if my airways are blocked, will it even do anything?”
Eddie smiled encouragingly at him, eyes glittering and making it impossible for Steve to look anywhere but at his boyfriend.
“Only one way to find out, big boy.”
Steve sighed. Okay. He was going to do this – for Eddie, he told himself. He honestly wasn’t sure he could feel much worse than he did in this moment. Even if he experienced a little bit of burning, it might at least make his nose run enough that he’d be able to actually blow it.
“…Fine. I’ll snort some.”
Eddie’s entire body seemed to both slump in relief whilst simultaneously beginning to buzz with anticipation. Steve could tell he was trying his best not to look too eager and was failing magnificently. He was such a dork. Steve’s heart leapt in his chest a little, out of both adoration for Eddie and a kind of twisted excitement at what he was about to do. He hoped he would sneeze. He hoped it would actually be a productive affair. He hoped Eddie would like it.
“Oh my god, finally!”
Eddie sighed dramatically and Steve couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was sat, the timbre of the laugh vibrating against his irritated sinuses, an errant cold-induced tickle – maybe all three – but it was with a sudden and pressing urgency that he realised he very much needed to sneeze. He sucked in a desperate gasp to fuel his release, reddened nostrils flaring angrily.
“AEEESHHH!! TIISSSHHH!! HAH’TSSSSHHH’UU!!” He aimed the sneezes lazily at an upraised hand, smirking a little as he wound down from them at the unmistakable sound of Eddie moaning and the sensation of his body sitting up ramrod straight beside him. He looked at his boyfriend through heavy-lidded eyes.
“’Scuse me. Tickled.”
Eddie, blushing a particularly pretty pink, cursed before laughing breathlessly.
“Getting a head-start, Harrington?” He chuckled as he twisted the cap off the small container.
“Just giving you a preview, Munson.” He teased, then laughed as Eddie lurched forward to press tiny kisses all over his face.
“Just hope this works for you. My poor, stuffy baby.” Eddie crooned as he sat back with the vial.
Steve watched as his boyfriend lifted the open container up to his own nose before taking a deep inhale through flared nostrils. The effect was almost instantaneous. Eddie shook with a fierce fit of irritated sneezes, aimed at Steve’s duvet-covered lap.
“Ehdd’tchu! Ngxt’chiew! Ts’zieww! H’tchu! HEH! ENGXT’tchiiewww!!”
He shook his long curls back from his face and grinned up at Steve, eyes twinkling.
“Whew! That felt so good. Stuff’s still strong as ever.” He rubbed his nostrils roughly with the knuckle of a crooked forefinger. Steve shuddered at the pleasant thrum of arousal the little fit and Eddie’s teasing comment produced.
“Bless you, Eds. You’re so fucking hot, baby. Now hurry up and put me out of my misery.”
Eddie smirked at him, looking as devilishly cheeky as he always did when he successfully turned Steve on.
“Your wish is my command.”
With practiced caution, the older man shook a small amount of powder onto the webbing of skin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. Holding the hand steady, he placed the open vial on their nightstand and looked up at Steve, undisguised excitement burning in his chocolate eyes.
“Ready, Stevie?”
Steve hummed an affirmative and leaned forward. Eddie guided his hand up to the younger man’s face and held it there, resting his thumb and fingers on Steve’s cheeks. Steve gingerly pressed his nostrils to his boyfriend’s hand, hesitating for just a moment before inhaling forcefully through his nose, sniffing up the powder. Steve was too focused on the sensation to notice Eddie shaking slightly in response to the former jock’s warm, damp nostrils gently suctioning at his skin.
Steve leaned back, sniffing experimentally. Eddie had been right – he was, in fact, so stuffed up he couldn’t even make out the scent of menthol. It didn’t seem to be doing much of anything, but he’d rather that than the burning. Eddie was watching him keenly, almost without breathing. Steve snuffled again – absolutely nothing.
Feeling almost as if he’d let his boyfriend down, he opened his mouth to speak –
“HAHHYISSSSHIEWW!!!”
And sneezed instead.
Both men jumped, absolutely blindsided by the thunderous sneeze. Steve had been forced forward with the cringing effort of it, Eddie reaching out to steady him by the shoulder instinctively even as he felt the spray settle on his face.
“Jesus H Christ, Steve!”
Eddie felt his cock throb in his jeans which were suddenly all too tight, ears ringing. His eyes scanned Steve’s face, took in his crumpled expression, looking every bit as ruined as he himself felt. Steve let out a sound between a shaky exhale and a whimper and attempted to maintain eye contact with him, despite the tickle forcing his eyes slowly shut.
“S-sorr-ih-HIHH-!! HAEGGSHOOO!!”
Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut as another mist of spray burst across his cheeks and lips.
“Bless you, honey. No sorry, love, it’s okay - are you okay?”
Steve nodded, squinting against the tickle. God, it didn’t burn but it buzzed, a ticklish sensation taking root at the base of his nostrils and seeming to pulse out in waves across the centre of his face. It was so intense, but not quite enough, the fit he’d been hoping for just out of reach.
“I’m – I’m okay….God, Eddie, it tickles so much but I c-can’t-!”
He cut himself off with another huge inhale that left him just as quickly as it culminated. He shook his head gently, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.
“Ugh. False start.”
“…Mmf.”
Steve watched his boyfriend squirm, squeezing his legs together. He wasn’t sure if Eddie was attempting to calm his erection or was seeking further stimulation. He smiled – or his lips attempted to curve into one despite the tickle teasing his sensitive nostrils. He felt a little ridiculous given the circumstances, but he’d long abandoned any feelings of genuine embarrassment regarding his pre-sneeze expressions – around Eddie, at least. The first time he had shyly attempted to duck away into his shirt collar to hide an openly tortured grimace, Eddie had softly pulled his chin up to watch every little detail as he fell to pieces in front of him.
Steve sniffled forcefully, hoping the action would spark up a tickle strong enough to send him over the edge again, but all he earned for his efforts was a quick flurry of angry coughs. This was so unbelievably frustrating – he had sneezed with no indication he was about to at all, but now felt as though he was trapped in an endless purgatory of fruitless buildups. The tickle buzzed so terribly that his eyes were leaking tears of bitter irritation down his face. He whined, feeling the older man rubbing his shoulder encouragingly.
“Eddie…”
“Yeah, Stevie?”
“It won’t-! HH!!....I can’t-!! HAHDDT-!! Ohhh….”
He groaned in frustration as the tickle teased him, taking him right to the edge before cruelly denying him any release. He heard Eddie mutter under his breath. He gasped his way into another buildup with the same result.
“Ok, I think you might need some – manual intervention.”
Eddie squeezed his shoulder before rooting around in their nightstand drawer. Steve watched as well as he could through the blur of tears as his boyfriend emerged with a clothes tag gripped triumphantly between a thumb and forefinger.
“How’s this, baby? Gonna let me tickle those sneezes out for you?”
Steve nodded after another particularly desperate false start.
“Please.”
Eddie wasted no time in tilting Steve’s head back, exposing his twitching nostrils for easier access. The older man clucked his tongue as he took in the swollen interior of them.
“God, honey, this is such a nasty cold you’ve caught….”
Steve whined impatiently. Message more than received, Eddie slipped the end of the tag into his right nostril, prodding and twisting insistently, almost as desperate for Steve to sneeze as the younger man himself. For two minutes thereafter, Steve continued to gasp uselessly. Eddie chewed at his bottom lip, trying to ignore the prickle of concern as his boyfriend seemed trapped in an endless loop of hitch, gasp, exhale, repeat.
In a last-ditch effort, Eddie switched the tag to his left nostril. Only a few prods later and Steve felt his breath scissor, this time more deeply, and he just knew that he was going to sneeze. Eddie seemed to notice the difference and pushed the tag deeper, pressed up harder. With one final inhale that filled his straining chest to capacity, Steve hovered momentarily on the precipice of release before mercifully, finally pitching forward with the resulting paroxysm.
“HAHGK’TISSSSHHH’IEWW!!!”
He moaned in relief, luxuriating in the shiver that most powerful sneeze sent down his body as it rocked though him. The tickle flared again, and the process repeated.
“TISSSSHH’IEEW!! ITSCHHHH’IEWW!! HAEESSHHHOOO!!”
He felt Eddie’s arms reaching out to support him, heard him muttering words of encouragement.
“There you go, baby. Bless you – Bless you!”
Steve shuddered, the undeniable pleasure of sneezing openly after such a long buildup combined with Eddie’s loving words in his ear leaving his head swimming.
“I ca’hannt s-stop-!! Hah-!! Hah-HEH!! Hh-HH-HEHhh!! HRRRSHH’IEWWW!!”
With that latest sneeze, Steve felt the congestion shift, blessedly loosening and starting to hang in thick strands from his flared nostrils. He blindly fumbled to raise a hand to cup around his mouth and nose, knowing the rest of his fit would be heavily productive. He felt Eddie lower his hand to the duvet and tenderly press his own tissue-clad palm up to his trembling mouth.
“It’s okay, Stevie, I’ve got you.”
Steve bucked forward immediately into the protective cover of the tissues, another colossal sneeze tearing at his throat.
“HEEEEIGGXXSSHHHHhhh!!”
It was intensely messy, filling the tissues as the result of his cold burst out into the folds. Luckily, Eddie didn’t miss a beat, and expertly switched the bundle for a new one, wiping Steve’s nostrils clean as he went. Steve could do nothing but sneeze and sneeze, thinking he was done before another tickle would pitch him forward helplessly, eventually ending up almost entirely in his boyfriend’s lap.
A brief pause left Steve panting against Eddie’s palm. He had lost track of how many times he’d sneezed, but he knew he wasn’t done. The interrupted tickle threatened to simmer down into that dissatisfying, torturous buzz once again - Steve groaned and desperately rubbed his tingling nose into the tissues, nostrils flared wide. He felt the familiar tickle of his boyfriend’s fringe brush against his forehead before the welcoming sensation of Eddie’s lips pressed against the bridge of his nose. Eddie hummed, and the vibration of it teased the tickle back into fruition.
“H-hohh Goddd-!! HAAHHH’TSHHHH!! TISSSSHHH’IEWWW!! HARRRESHOOO!! HHH’RISHHHH!!!”
Steve erupted, each sneeze seeming to vibrate in the air of the room, the sheer volume of them almost deafening. He almost felt as if he would make himself jump had he not known exactly when he was going to sneeze.
After another few minutes, he at last felt the sneezes beginning to wind down. He sat back, mouth hanging open, tongue pressing itself insistently against his bottom lip in an attempt to usher in the remaining tickle. He felt Eddie pressing soft kisses to his forehead, across his closed eyelids, over his cheeks. The metalhead reached up, tissue in hand, and rubbed the tip of Steve’s nose in a circular motion to encourage the sneeze, tracing the arches of the younger man’s damp, flared nostrils. With a final jiggle applied to his septum, Steve sucked in one last, huge breath and leaned into the sneeze for all it was worth.
“HADDT-!!! HAAHHH’GIITTTTSH’IIEWWwww!!!”
He moaned in the aftermath, limbs tingling and head throbbing, though not unpleasantly. Slumping into Eddie’s embrace, he focused on the sensation of his boyfriend’s warm hand stroking up and down his trembling back, snuffling wetly into the tissues pressed to his face.
“Blow for me, love?”
Eddie held the tissues securely around his nose, and Steve felt a flutter of relief in his chest when he was able to blow productively into them. He paused to allow Eddie time to switch the tissues before going several more times, the older man pressing kisses to the top of his head.
Finished, he slumped back against his pillows, shaking like a leaf but feeling better than he had all day. Eddie swiped at his nostrils a few more times before leaning forward and capturing Steve’s mouth in a deep kiss. Steve was the first to break away, coughing convulsively into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie hummed in sympathy, patting his back.
“Sorry, man. Got carried away.”
He chuckled apologetically, wiping the younger man’s bottom lip clean of moisture.
“S’okay.”
Steve reached out and twirled a lock of Eddie’s curly hair around his finger. He took in the ravenous expression on his boyfriend’s face, the deep flush that spread across his cheeks. He was panting almost as much as Steve had after coughing up half a lung. The former jock let his eyes drop to the tent in Eddie’s jeans, almost comically erect. He smirked.
“You could have touched yourself, dude.”
Eddie laughed breathily, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.
“Had to look after you. Nearly came a couple of times, honestly. That was fucking impressive, Harrington. Mind if I-?”
“Please. I want to watch you.”
Eddie exhaled shakily, nodding his head and shimmying his tight black jeans and underwear down his thighs. He licked his palms a couple of times – pointless, really, given how wet the tip of his cock already was – and wrapped it around the throbbing shaft. Steve hummed in appreciation, taking in the hardness and almost bruised colour of the phallus. The older man was right on the edge of orgasm. He sniffled and watched in satisfaction as Eddie’s cock twitched in response.
“You’re so – hah – incredible, Steve-“
Eddie started to stroke himself in earnest, his free hand clutching the bed covers as he gazed into Steve’s eyes.
“You had – fuck! – such a tickle, baby…”
Steve sighed, purposely exaggerating the sound of it into a semi-orgasmic moan for his boyfriend’s benefit. Eddie’s breath hitched, his cock throbbing and dripping precum down his knuckles. Steve felt his own cock twitch half-heartedly in response. The sneezing fit had left him shattered, far too tired to touch himself, but he could still feel the steady pulse of his own arousal thrumming through him in response to the sight of his boyfriend working his gorgeous cock.
Just because he was too tired to have an orgasm didn’t mean he couldn’t help Eddie with one of his own.
“Such a tickle. Felt so good to sneeze, Eds. Wanted to sneeze for you.”
Eddie cursed and reached frantically for one of Steve’s used tissues, burying the head of his cock into the damp folds.
“Did you like it, baby? When I sneezed into your hands? I know you wanted it all over your cock the most. Drenching you with my spray.”
He knew that would do it. He nestled back into the pillow with a satisfied sniff, watching Eddie’s back arch as his climax rushed over him. The orgasm looked intensely gratifying, the metalhead’s face a rictus of ecstasy, cock jumping in his palm and filling the sticky tissue with his cum. Sighing happily when his climax abated, the older man sat in place for a moment before tossing the ruined tissue aside and lifting his arms over his head in a full body stretch. He reached for the glass of water on their nightstand and held it to Steve’s lips, urging him to drink before taking a swig of his own.
“Holy shit, Harrington. You’re gonna kill me one day.”
The dungeon master shucked off his jeans before pulling his shirt off over his head.
“Mind if I get into bed with you?”
“Mmmn…”
“’Mmmn’?”
“You’re gonna get sick.”
Eddie crawled up his body and planted a hand firmly on either side of his head. Steve grinned up at him, feeling loopy with exhaustion.
“Steve, baby, light of my life, if this is an actual, genuine concern of yours at this present moment, I hate to be the one to break it to you. But if there was any chance of preventing my catching this fucking plague you have brought unto our household, that was before you sneezed in my mouth when I went in for a kiss this morning.”
Steve giggled.
“Whoops.”
“’Whoops’, he says. If that wasn’t enough, sweetheart, those last fifty sneezes really sealed the deal.”
“Wasn’t…f’fty….”
Steve felt himself starting to drift off.
“Gonna sleep, champ?”
“Mmm…”
He nuzzled into Eddie’s palm where it cupped his cheek.
“Okay. You’ve definitely earned it. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He could hear the smile in his boyfriend’s voice.
“Mm’L’ve you…”
“Love you too, baby.”
#i added a little bit of sneezing from e/ddie#as a treat <3#nametakenfic#s/tranger t/hings#snz kink#snzblr#snzfucker#snz fet#sneezefic#sneeze kink
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