reading this book and the author keeps using the phrase “his nostrils flared” like please stop making me horny every other paragraph I feel like a WHORE
there is something so fantastically sexy about the phrase "I might need to sneeze." like, the acknowledgement of a possibility, the uncertainty of the outcome, and the complete lack of control over their nose's ticklish fate. it's especially delicious when the answer is so obviously yes, they do in fact need to sneeze. when the inevitable itch is written all over their face, etched into their forehead, creased between their eyebrows, crinkled at the corners of their eyes and twitching at the tip of their nose. said through fluttering breaths as their head begins to tip back: "I might- I might neeeh... I might need to sneeze!" poor thing, so out of touch that they truly have no idea what disaster is headed their way...
When someone has a really bad cold or hayfever, and even when they're not sneezing, they look like they're about to. Eyebrows constantly pulling together, eyes narrowed with that vacant look coming and going, pink nostrils flaring/quivering, lips parted, upper lip slightly pulled up, showing a glimpse of teeth... they just look so, so sneezy, even as they go about their day.
And no wonder they look sneezy, their nose and sinuses are prickling and tickling nonstop... sometimes they tip over that tickly threshold and they sneeze. And they sneeze and sneeze. But every time they manage to stop sneezing, they still need to.
I'm so into apologetic sneezes. Like the excuse me, pardon, sorry something really tickles in my nose, so sorry I really can't help it. It just gets to me. It's so hot and so adorable at the same time, it drives me nuts.
big sneeze from their sparring partner giving them pause + said partner using that pause to take them down before sneezing again and sniffling with a pitiful quality that was nowhere to be found as they dealt that blow
Imagining a sick character coming up to their friend/partner and, rather than announcing that they're sick, simply leaning against them like a cat. Cue the other's exclamation of "wow, you feel warm," and the sickie mumbling "I know" into their shoulder. Bonus points if they're not usually this touchy feely.
any squicks on mess or contagion related mentions and stuff? (asking for no particular reason)
👀👀👀👀
I don't like detailed described mess but don't mind kind of vague wet description or mild visual mess. And I'm neutral on contagion stuff it doesn't turn me on but it can be tasty if the characters are turned on by it.
prequel to greedy. ilya discovers shanes sneeze kink. lots of edging. some spellings. as usual please read bio if u stumbled here.
_
“Oh, bless you,” Ilya hums vaguely, eyes fixed on something in their fridge.
“Thank you,” Shane can’t help if he blushes as he replies. Ilya doesn’t know what this is doing to him. And thank god he doesn’t. He hides a sniffle behind his hand.
Lucky for Shane, one of his best talents is masking everything that’s happening inside his head and setting on a polite face.
Unlucky for Shane, he has no ability to control the way his other head twitches when Ilya turns around, shuts the door like an afterthought, and says, “You have allergies?”
“No, I don’t –”
“You are sneezing so much.” He eyes Shane suspiciously.
“Are you getting sick? Is this sabotage, Hollander? I am leaving for pre-season and you have this evil plan to infect me?”
Holy shit. Ilya wants to fucking kill him.
“No. Shut up.” Shane tries his hardest to remain casual. He sits at one of the stools at their kitchen island to hide the evidence from Ilya, who is still studying ingredients.
“Something’s bothering me, I guess.” Truer words have never been spoken.
It’s not even the sneezing that is making him so hard. It’s the fact that he’s sneezing and Ilya is watching – even though he’s not really paying attention – and hearing everything. It’s that he’s present for every bit of Shane’s unraveling.
It’s that Shane can’t control this unraveling as it happens. He’s trying, really fucking hard, to control it. He doesn’t want to sneeze. And that’s even worse because all the blood is rushing from his brain straight to his cock the longer he tries to tamper down the itchy feeling in his sinuses.
He watches as Ilya fixes himself dinner. Shane had offered to make him something, when he’d arrived, but he had insisted on fending for himself. It’s off-season. I will find my own combination of foods I want to eat from Shane Hollander’s rabbit kitchen.
He scrubs at his nose. It’s still testing him.
Ilya had arrived at their cottage and immediately swept Shane up in his arms. These arms included a bone-breaking hug and a forceful, hungry kiss.
Shane had been all in, until he registered that Ilya was wearing something new on his skin. Whatever scent he had on had, unsuspectingly, made its way from his boyfriend’s pulse points and up into the recesses of his nasal cavity. And it had fucking burned. And itched. And…
All this to explain why he’s been struggling ever since. A stifled fit into his boyfriend’s shoulder as they embraced had been the start. And now, three more itchy sneezes pinched between his forefinger and thumb — he understands why Ilya took notice.
“Shane.”
“Ilya.”
Ilya sets down the spoon and leans against the counter, arms crossed. The evil-scented fabric of his shirt pulls across his muscular shoulders. Shane’s nose twitches traitorously as he tries to hold the gaze
“Is it me?” Ilya asks. He doesn’t sound offended. He sounds more curious. A little careful, in the particular way he gets when he’s working something out.
Shane’s brain runs a very quick cost-benefit analysis. Cost: I have a weird kink. You’re going to chirp me about it forever. No, I can’t explain it. Benefits: My dick is so hard it hurts and I need you to touch me right now. Please. And maybe you’ll sneeze for me sometime.
“It – hh – whatever you’re wearing,” he says. “I think I’m sensitive to it.”
Something shifts in Ilya’s face. He reaches his wrist to his nose and takes a deep, thoughtful sniff.
“My cologne?”
“I think so.” Snf.
“Hm. It is new. Test?”
And Ilya is shoving his wrist under Shane’s nose before he can react.
Shane’s mouth falls open with an involuntary moan because this just pushed a hidden button inside him. He claps a hand over it and shifts back in horror, but not before he gets a huge noseful of itchy musk.
“Ehh’IkKh’SHhUu!!” He follows this up with three more desperate attempts at stifles. It’s so tickly, the scent, forcing its way into the back of his sinuses and activating some deep trigger. He’s been fighting it off, but to have it presented like that, so strongly. Like a hit of smelling salts.
Wetness leaks from his eyes and bursts between his tightly-clenched fingers at the tip of his nose.
He needs to get out of here now. He will as soon as he can catch a breath. Ilya’s staring, he knows this for certain even with his own eyes screwed shut and free hand steepled over the lower half of his face.
He gasps, head flicking up in an imitation of rage and giving his best glare to his boyfriend between irritated, watery eyes. He’s not where Shane had last seen him – he’s standing beside Shane with a damp paper towel in his hand.
“Sorry котик, I just rinsed my arms, okay?” He sounds genuinely regretful as he goes to wipe under Shane’s eyes, then all of a sudden stops with a jolt. His hand is half-raised to Shane’s face, but his gaze is down at —
“Huh,” is all Ilya says, so quiet Shane almost misses it. He resumes wiping at Shane’s face. As if that isn’t ominous.
As the damp paper towel swipes under Shane’s nose, it triggers another sneeze. His immune system has been thrown into overdrive and is reacting on a hair trigger.
“H’h’E’shz’ieWWw, hh!, hh, sor— eh’zS’CHEIWw!” And it’s right against Ilya’s large palm.
An itchy, desperate outburst of relief, freeing him from the violent building in his nose. It’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. And also the most mortifying. He gasps out an apology between desperate, liquid sniffles, but he’s becoming even more distant and floaty.
He’s so fucking needy. Ilya saw his visible arousal and ignored it. This never happens. So it’s a game for him, then. A game that Shane really wants to lose.
He thinks Ilya is onto him and he’s being gentle about it. He wants him to call him out, to pin him up against the countertop and embrace his every filthy desire.
“I…” his eyes are streaming, burning irritated red at the sides, and he wipes a wrist over the moisture, sniffling, “I…”
Suddenly, Ilya forces in. He flicks his tongue at his cupid's bow, collecting up wetness Shane hadn’t known was there. He moans involuntarily at the contact, words falling away. Ilya licks around his nostrils and sucks a wet kiss at his philtrum. He should, really, force him off. But he’s beyond high off the feeling, and Ilya is always his drug of choice.
“You are sneezy from my cologne?” Ilya asks, as if his tongue hasn’t been making Shane crazy.
His whole body is on fire as he groans; and, finally, allows himself to palm at his own dick. Sparks tingle across his whole body with the contact. He might need aftercare just from this.
“F-fuck. Yes. It’s – uh, shit. Touch me, please. I like it. When –” He can’t articulate it, but Ilya stops him with a primal, biting kiss to his lower lip.
“You like to sneeze?” Ilya asks, voice lilting, yet sincere as he pulls away and runs a hand down Shane’s waist. His other hand thumbs at his cheek and moves towards the edge of his nostril.
“No. I don’t think it’s –” he’s panting, floating in ecstasy; his eyes are still closed as he pulses with pure, unadulterated want.
“I think maybe you do, no?” His boyfriend squeezes a hand over his dick and he moans with want. Moans. He feels the need for him rise up behind his eyes, splitting into bursts in his aching sinuses.
“It’s weird,” Shane complains with a careful sniffle, finding himself. He forces Ilya’s hand away from his leaking cock. “Fuck off.”
“Is hot, too. If you like it? I will want to make you…” Ilya, the dirty bastard that he is, lets his voice trail off and licks his lips as he pauses for emphasis, “sneeze?”
“Fuck off.” He tingles, whole-bodied. Ilya is completely right, of course. Because there’s no way Shane would have ended up with anyone except someone who can read him completely. His brain is going static-y, like an unreachable channel.
Ilya darts his tongue out to the tip of Shane’s nose and he gasps, shoving him off.
He squeezes his nose between two tightly-held, flat palms as he stifles, once, twice, expression pinching as he shudders with the feeling.
“I think you like that,” Ilya teases. He palms at Shane’s dick again and he shudders, moans, “but I will shower, okay?”
If he insists, then Shane will wait. Even as he's so hard that he's seeing spots.
character A is sick, and sitting on B's lap. A keep sneezing non stop, whimpering and shifting on their partner's lap.
B out of tissues suddenly, and they feel how A's nose twitching, how their sneeze building up slowly. and to cover, they use their own sleeve, slightly pressing to A's nose just in time.
