alright i'm gonna be so horny(not legit nsfw/spice) for a second !!!!!mess warning!!!!
placing your hands against the underside of a person's nose that's obviously very full and sensitive. You can feel their nostrils flaring against your fingers or palm, feeling mess dripping down , any lil move makes their nostrils flare wider and makes the poor thing hitch
just making the person so hitchy and nose runny, its pouring/drizzling all over your hand. They grab your wrist and start to slowly nuzzle/rub their nose against your hand while they hitch desperately
((so i wrote a snz/messfucker Menelaus x Helen snzfic. I once again wrote this fic with my dick, i'm not editing shit. here ya go. Usual MESSFUCKER/ CONTAGION
Humans weren’t perfect; no one was, no one was inherently evil or righteous or well, supposedly. However, mankind couldn’t help but pedestalize people, and Menelaus was no exception when his dearest Helen existed. Many people compared her to the goddess Aphrodite when they spoke of the woman’s beauty. Hell, the men who arrived to be her suitors had to agree to fight and raise an army if anything were to happen to her, even if they weren’t going to marry her. Many people considered Menelaus lucky to have such a perfectly beautiful woman in his possession. From her gorgeous mid-toned skin to her wavy, sandy-blond hair that looked breathtaking in the morning light, to her radiant green eyes that sparkled whenever she got excited. Soft, subtle pink lips that men wished their wives had. Everything about her was perfect!
Menelaus was a lucky man, truly lucky to wake up to that pretty face every morning.
But perfection was truly in the eyes of the beholder, and sometimes that didn’t mean conventional.
When Menelaus woke up to Helen beside him once again, he brushed his fingers through the loose strands of her hair that she had attempted to braid before bed last night. He smiled sleepily, though when some of his palm registered an unusual warmth, he frowned. ‘She never usually runs this warm,’ he thought and pressed the full palm against her cheek. ‘Definately warm a touch warm’
Before he could do much else, the woman started to stir. She nuzzled against his hand and shimmied closer to his body.
Her voice was gravely and groggy as she spoke.
“Hm? Kff! Morning.” Maybe she was fine, maybe there were just too many blankets on her?
Menelaus adjusted himself and pulled his wife to him and kissed her forehead.
“G’morning, my love.” He pushed down his worries for the moment; it seemed like nothing; it had to be nothing.
They did their usual routine of spending some of their morning in bed, cuddled up with one another, enjoying the peace. Until they remembered they had responsibilities. As they got ready, Menelaus noticed a few things. The soft sniffles that sounded pretty wet, the muffled coughs, and how Helen would pinch her nose and pitch forward in little fits. Was she catching a cold? No way, not his perfect, precious wife.
At breakfast, she was much quieter than usual; she gave short replies or just nodded. When Menelaus had to leave to handle a military meeting with a few other groups, he offered to take Helen with for once she declined. ‘Odd, she usually loves going on these meetings with me’
“I have a few things I need to atted to here sndf, remember the shipmbents, dear?” She reminded him, of course; how could he forget? Though he couldn’t help but be hooked on the muddled stuffiness in her voice, that pathetic little sniffle did nothing to clear it.
“Yes yes, thats right. Are you alright, love?” Menelaus finally asked as he picked up a himation to wear. He watched as Helen straightened her posture and quickly nodded.
“Yes, I’mb alright.” She walked over and helped him put on the cloak and brushed back strands of Menelaus’s thick, ginger hair. A kind smile spread across her face.
“I’ve already asked one of the servants to make something for you to eat on the way. Don’t need you in a foul mood all day, do we?” Menelaus chuckled and shook his head.
“Guess not, gods, you know me all too well; what would I do without you?” He gave her one last kiss, this time on the lips, before he left.
He spent most of his day bored out of his mind and half annoyed-only half because of the food- he hated meetings. At times he couldn’t help but worry about Helen, especially when the other men around brought her up. She didn’t sound well. He hoped deep down it had truly been nothing; he couldn’t help but wish he could spend his whole day with her, at least then he could watch over her. Still, he shook that from his mind; she wasn’t helpless; she was strong, perfect; she could handle herself.
Besides, he’d rather spend a whole day fretting over her than be in this stupid meeting; it was the same old same old. They could at least not be boring! There was no amount of money you could pay Meneleus to spend the night there either.
The ride home wasn’t any different; with the days getting shorter during the winter, it was no surprise when he came back in the dark.
He all but kicked down the door to the palace; as soon as he was inside, he announced his presence.
“I’m home!”
Many of the servants greeted him kindly as they busied themselves with their tasks. As he passed by the dining area, he expected to see Helen monitoring the servants while they set the table. When she wasn’t there he decided to ask.
“Where is Helen?” One of the young servants paused and looked at him shyly, and stammered.
“In the- in the weaving room si-sir” Menelaus furrowed his brows. Helen sure loved her crafting, but she also liked making sure the table was set right-she was particular about it- let alone not being around to greet him when he arrived home.
As he turned to head towards the upper palace, another servant mentioned something.
“She hasn’t been herself at all today.”
So he hadn’t just imagined it.
He made it up to her weaving room and gave a slight knock before he entered. This time he got greeted by what most called the opposite of perfection, the opposite of godly, the opposite of beauty.
There Helen sat with a blanket around her tense shoulders, her nose reddened, eyes glassy and dark with a distracted look. Her hair tousled and face flushed, and boy, the sound she made.
“Eh!? Heh! Heh! EsschHHeeuhww!” Her body jerked forwards, shoulders hiked up as she sneezed into a blanket-covered hand. From where Menelaus stood, he could see a thin line of snot connect and drip down from her nose in the candlelight. A warmth crept across his cheeks but he quickly shoved that aside. He leaned against the threshold of the door coolly as he spoke up.
“Bless you, dearest.” He had to bite back a laugh when the woman jumped at the sound of his voice and turned around swiftly. She quickly tried to fix herself up, those soft wet sniffles from earlier sounded much more productive this time around.
“Oh! You’re hombe, I must’ve lost track of tibe” Of course, no matter how much divine beauty people believed she possessed, Helen couldn’t hide being some semblance of human, demigoddess or not.
She sounded exhausted, much more than the usual tiredness of dealing with new shipments and having meetings of her own and delegating the servants. Then her shoulders tensed again and she uttered a breathy “eh ehh excuse behh bme”
As Menelaus drew closer to place a gentle hand on her shoulders, she clenched her mouth, scrunched her nose and pitched forwards in a repetitive fit. These were much smaller and sounded a little painful.
“HpPT! NgkKKGxtt! HHEH-! HmpPP'kngt! HmpPP'kngt HHEH-! HmpPP'kngt!” It looked like the fit wasn’t going to end, and the poor woman struggled to even get a real breath in between. When Helen did manage to catch a slight break, she gasped for air and groaned. It took a moment for Menelaus to get it together himself. His larger hand rubbed soothing circles as he asked.
“Are you sure you’re alright? You sound truly dreadful. That had to’ve hurt.” Helen tried to compose herself; she nodded and attempted to lean away from her husband and stand up from her chair.
“I-i’mb fide, Laus, I-I prob- I probmiiihhh. Oh dnuhh dno!” This time, however, she stifled once, and the rest managed to struggle their way out.
“pPT! NgkKKGxtt! heh! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hhGNSHHhuhw!” These sneezes managed to rock her whole body, threw her off balance a little, to the point Menelaus had to hold her and pull her to his side. These weren’t dainty, soft sneezes; they were rather impressive, and something about this made Menelaus’s heart both melt and pound furiously against his chest.
There was one thing for certain: he was right; she wasn’t well.
“Alright, you’re heading to bed.” He concluded aloud before Helen could protest; he swept her off her feet. Oh, how charming. As he headed for the door, Helen finally found her voice. A little hoarse and very congested-sounding, but it was still hers.
“Wait! I’mb finde Laus! Please, guh snddff ugh I can have dinner with you at the table.” Menelaus looked down at her and shook his head.
“I will have the servants bring some food and medicine to our room. I’m not leaving you alone for long…mmm maybe draw up a bath, how does that sound?” He caught the slight bewildered expression on her face for a moment, but continued to carry her to bed. After he flagged down a servant and gave them his orders and finally made it to their bedroom. He placed Helen carefully on their bed and began to swap his outfit for something more comfortable. He picked up a handkerchief from the wardrobe and handed it to Helen wordlessly. She muttered a soft apology and blew her nose, or well, a measly half-hearted ‘attempt’. It didn’t sound like any had budged; it didn’t sound like she tried, despite how full her sinuses sounded from the incessant sniffling.
Unceremoniously, Menelaus flopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh and crawled over towards Helen and held her to his chest.
“Oh, how I missed you.” Helen let out a stuffy laugh and nuzzled into him; she kept the handkerchief close to her face like she was trying to hide.
“You’ve only been gone for the day; you act as if you’ve been sent on a voyage.” She playfully teased; Menelaus dramatically whined at her.
“It felt like it; they kept droning on and on and on. We get it, we all get it your dick is big and so is your army.” That got a full-body laugh from her, something Menelaus always loved. He loved when Helen was completely unrestrained, and that was something he wanted right now.
Dinner went without a hitch- well, not literally, but still no complaints there.
The bath was where things got interesting. Menelaus sat on the upper steps in the water of the large bathing pool with Helen sat between his legs on the one below him. They helped each other wash up, enjoying the warmth of the water permeating their sore bodies.
Every now and then Helen would go into a stifled fit and apologize; the steam made things much looser, but Helen wasn’t keen on letting much out.
Suddenly her hitching went from erratic to a defeated sigh; frustration painted her face. She rubbed gently at her nose and slumped a little. Finally, Menelaus asked,
“Why do you hold them back? It's clear you’re not feeling well; that obviously can’t be good for you.” Helen blushed hard and shrugged; her fingers fiddled around with her hair.
“I know I’m not exactly very…pretty like this; the least I can do is keep it to myself. I don’t want you to get this.” Menelaus blinked for a moment before he gently commanded her.
“Face me.” Helen hesitated, then turned to face her husband, but she didn’t look at him; she kept her head down. Helen wasn’t exactly a shy woman usually, and it broke Menelaus a little to see her shrink in on herself. He brought his hands to her face and tilted it up, and he smiled.
“You’re beautiful, and you’re mine.” Helen shook her head.
“I’mb a bmess, I sound awful, I-” Menelaus pulled her into a kiss before she could continue. He could taste the cold on her tongue, but he didn’t care; honestly, he’d do anything if that meant he could be cuddled up with her. He kept one hand on her waist, the other on her face. He felt her breath flutter and quicken in short hiccups against his lips. A little whine escaped before they pulled apart- but not very far- and Helen brought up a hand to fan at her face. Eyes squinted, lips parted, her whole face slack, nostrils flared and dripped down to her upper lip. It was almost erotic the way she looked so unraveled and consumed by the urge to sneeze. However, when it went away, the defeated face she made was almost enough to make Menelaus lose it himself.
“Ugh dnot again, so-sorry.” Menelaus shook his head and rubbed his thumb against her cheek sweetly.
“No apologies needed, please. You can’t help it; being sick happens, besides you look precious like this to me.” Helen looked at him like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have much energy to argue. She melted into his frame and admitted it.
“I feel awful sddrck I cadn’t get bmy sdeezes out dnow.” Menelaus hummed softly and thought about it for half a second before he brought his hand to Helen’s nose.
“What are you doing?” She asked, as soon as the calloused pads of his fingers touched the tip of her nose he felt her take in a breath.
“Helping” he said simply. He rubbed up and down on the tip, then on her septum. Wetness gathered on his fingers as her nostrils flared widely. Helen grabbed his wrist and, between hitches, barely got out his name.
“Bmmheeeh heh bmedelahhh hhgh!” But she didn’t move his hand; she tilted her head a little and leaned into it. Menelaus’s voice was warm and quiet at he shushed her.
“Shhhh let it out, my love, let me help you.” Her whines intermeshed with her hitches, her shoulders jerked, and her nose twitched. A deep gasp finally escaped, and she lurched forwards.
“Heh! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hhGNSHHhuhw!” Menelaus’s hand and wrist quickly became soaked; he could feel the warm snot drizzling down. Just seeing it made his own face flush hard and the moan Helen let out definately did him in.
“Gggnuuugh. That’s bmuch better, gods I bmade such a bmess, I’b sorry.” When Menelaus snapped out of it he just ran his hand under the water for a bit.
“Its alright, you needed it.” He then brought his hand back up to help clean off the mess he had caused. When he got a look at her, seeing her nose running from both red, angry nostrils, he finally relaxed it was like he fell in love all over again.
“Stars above, you’re gorgeous.” He muttered.
After a while, they got out of the bath and went back to their bedroom, where Helen was cuddled up to Menelaus’s chest, snugly.
They had managed to find a few handkerchiefs, which they piled nearby on the bed, and they quickly became useful. Helen brought up a hand to rub at her nose; you could hear the squishing of congestion.
“Ugh dnot agaihhd.” Her words wavered; immediately, Menelaus felt something pulse and his heart pound against his ribs. It got even worse when she weakly asked, “ceeh cad you duh do that thih thig againd?” through her hitches.
“Uh-of-of course.” Menelaus all but jumped at the opportunity! He had to steady his hand as he brought it to her face; this time they brushed in a feather-light touch against her nostrils. They twitched and flared while she gasped desperately, “thehh there yes rih right thehh there!”
He kept his finger there with a little more pressure as he traced the rims. He couldn’t believe she was truly this sensitive! He had to bite his lower lip to keep the soft growl from coming out.
“hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! Hehg heh! Eh! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw!” Spray coated his hand, and mess ejected and splattered onto his palm while strands of it leaked down her face. But her eyes still stayed hazy, and her chest heaved.
“Dnuhh dnot duh duhh dode! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw!” Her sneezes were rough and seemed to need a lot to fuel them. Snot covered Menelaus’s fingers and ran down the back of his hand as he kept going. He circled Helen’s angry red, sensitive nostril and used his other arm to hold her through it.
“hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! ESschhEUhhww!” Spray darkened and dampened the fabric of her sleep gown and made it cling to her chest. With one final- “hHEG’nngsSSHHWw!” a large rivulet of snot poured out from both nostrils. She moaned in relief and slouched into Menelaus again.
“Thagk you, thats betteh heh!” A last-minute tickle resurfaced and she swiftly turned into her husband’s chest and muffled the oncoming sneeze into him.
“hhhHRRSSHHHhhhiih!” Now he was truly red in the face; the warm wetness definitely had seeped through the top and it spread from the center out. When Helen pulled away, a large, thick string of mess was still attached to both of them.
“Fugk i made such a bmess” She whined. Menelaus nodded, his mouth dry as he tried to respond
“Ye-yeah a bit” What he didn’t expect was for Helen to lean into his ear and tell him through thick, soupy sniffles. “I see snddrck sdrck this feels good sdgh guh for the both of us.” He was too embarrassed to admit it out loud, which was confirmation enough. Her eyes narrowed in a playful seriousness.
“If I dodn’t have to hide frobe you, you wodt hide frob bme.” She stated. Menelaus agreed and pulled her into another kiss. He groaned as snot smeared against his upper lip, and this time he was the one pleading breathlessly.
“Let me take care of you please; let me have you, hold nothing back!”
“Okay, you will have bme.”
Menelaus started to kiss from her lips up to her nose, she shivered against him and grabbed onto his top.
“Tiih tigkles” She warns, he kept going, placing light kisses on the underside of her nose. As her head reared back, Menelaus practically chased after it while he encouraged her.
“C’mon, give it to me, let me have it. mmgnh I know you feel awful so give it to me.” Helen whimpered, whined, and her gasps got higher in pitch as she built up till she snapped forwards and sent a fit right to his face.
“hHEG’nnsSSHHWw oh guhh gods! hHEG’nnsSSHHWw hHEG’nnsSSHHWw! EG’nnsSSHHWw! Hehh heh eh! EG’nnsSSHHWw! HuhG’nnsSSHHWw!” It was like getting hit by ocean spray; it soaked through his mustache and went down his neck. Any mess that didn’t make it to his face ended up on her chest and left her cleavage glistening. Out of reflex, Menelaus’s tongue swiped at her nose and got a small taste of that awful cold she had filling her head. Adoration glazed over his brown eyes when he looked at her. Truly the best thing he had seen.
Through heavy panting, Helen laughed a little and kissed him shortly.
“You seemb to be really edjoyig this~” She teased. Menelaus nodded and kissed back as he brushed a lock of Helen’s hair out of the way.
“I can’t help that my wife is the most gorgeous being to me, even if you are making a mess of yourself.”
“Ugh bmy dnose is sore ad still full.”
“Anything I can do about that?” He asked, Helen then looked at his lips then back at him then away, a shared shyness filled the space when they both realized what the solution was.
“You-you don’t have to, i-i just….your lips felt good…” She backpedaled.
“I don’t- I don’t mind at all” It felt so silly to be this shy about something.
Helen nodded and leaned her head back again. Menelaus only took a second before he pressed his lips to her nose and let his tongue slip out and lick carefully at her septum. A drawn-out, relieved moan came from Helen, and she grabbed onto his shirt.
“Yes like-like that, feels good.”
Her nostrils continued to flare against his warm, wet tongue as it slid up and down and ventured to her nostrils. Helen pressed in and whimpered out needily.
“Ih id-idside plehh please.” So he did; he pushed his tongue inside, which earned him another moan of encouragement and the taste of her tongue fresh on his tongue. He flicked it, let his tongue swirl and lick at the pulsing insides. It was almost addicting the way things tasted, so wet! She hitched against his mouth with not much time to warn him when his tongue caressed at a certain spot.
“I’bm guhh guhh GoddaEG’nnsSSHHWw!! EG’nnsSSHHWw! Ehh! Heh! HEHG’nnsSSHHWw!” Snot poured onto his tongue heavily, and he swallowed without a second thought. He had been doomed since the first kiss that morning.
“Duuh dodnt stuhh stop’b pleh please, please put iih it id!” Helen begged; well, when your queen begs you so pathetically, and looks at you like you’re the only one she could ever need, you do as she says.
He lets his tongue slither back in just a bit deeper this time.
“Yes yes yehh yes! I-i’mb guhh guhdduuhh guddssdeezeeehEG’nnsSSHHWw! Nguuuhgh fuhh fugk EG’nnsSSHHWw!”
Well at least he wouldn't have to go to any meetings for a while.
noseblows that come immediately after a sneeze in hopes of getting a productive blow in from the brief loosening of congestion that comes with a sneeze
a glistening philtrum from a persistent runny nose
a nose that runs thick. snot creeping out the entrance of the nostril but not thin enough to completely run out past the entrance
the squelchy crunch and clicking of a runny nose being rubbed only to cover their fingers in a cool sheen from whatever was in their nose leaking out
noseblows that are deep and bassy with how productive they are, leaving the tissue or handkerchief visibly fuller and plumper with snot
sneezes that heave snot out, not strong enough to have it spray out the nose, having globs hang off their nose that threaten to fall off with every sneeze
snot that pours out of a nose in waves with each sneeze running warm and plenty over an upper lip
wet sneezes into cupped hands/pinched fingers that seep through gaps between fingers
this is based on the post i saw of someone inducing with a thermomter and snzing on it and then giving it to someone else
contagion clinic lab experiment where they want to see what direct method would give the fastest or heaviest results
they have one pretty sick patient and a few completely healthy ones (A, B, C)
With A they induce the sick patient and let them spray onto A"s hand which A will either lick or rub against their nose
With B, they induce sick patient with a swab make sure to get as much mess on the swab as possible and then put it into B's nose, spreading it around inside and as deep as possible
with C, they have Sick patient snzing and blowing into a soft towel (something durable lol) which they will give to C for them to breath in and rub against their nose
thinking of the constant thick, wet, soupy sniffles with congested groans and whines from a sickie who desperately needs to blow their nose but they're too tired to do it themselves but also too shy to ask for help bc there's so much in their nose it's definately gonna take more than one blow to get most of it out.
Not to mention they're getting 'a tad' sensitive
Guys, this fit...So I've been experimenting while not wanting to huff chhinkni, and I've found that painting my nose with it on a q-tip gives wonderful results
SO WET my gods ( a friend said some sounded like I was 'blowing bubbles into coke. but in a hot way)
Also keep in mind that this is the smallest fit from this experiment, the clips I have in my cache...woof (stay tuned)
(Oh and putting chhinkni directly on a septum piercing...the fit i just had...)
It's also just making me feel so much better not having the powder clog my sinuses so much
enjoy (but also sorry for the Simpsons in the background ha) xoxo
Hey, all 3 D/ethklok fans! I ended up writing 6.9k of N/athan with a cold that ends up in gay sex because 🤷♀️👀👅
N/athan spends the better part of two days denying a plainly obvious cold and getting aggravated by P/ickles' insistence that he's getting sick. Eventually he caves and P/ickles does what he can to make him feel better 😇
~~~~~
Content:
M/M, N/athan has huge uncontrollable sneezes, cold sneezes, loud sneezes, cold denial, spray sneezes, contagion, mentions of mess, sneezing on somebody else, sneezing into hands, blowjobs, masturbation, hand jobs, sneezing during sex, nose rubbing, announcements, talking through build-ups, some rapid sneezing, P/ickles doesn't strictly have the fetish but certain...things happen, N/athan really enjoys sneezing, mentions of allergies, size difference
CW: canon-typical homophobia whilst doing the gayest shit ever, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, P/ickles is a functional alcoholic, N/athan is not smart and very much a massive prick (they all are, let's be real), graphic descriptions of semen
NSFW - Minors DNI!
The first sneeze gave him absolutely zero warning – not even a preparatory gasp or two, to which he was usually prone. All he had was a split-second of recognition before he was propelled forward with the force of it, unable to so much as raise a hand to cover it.
“HHURHHH’RRSHHH’AHHHH!!”
God, fuck. That felt fucking awesome. It had been so relieving he even had goosebumps rising across his forearms. Nathan sat for a moment in post-sneeze ecstasy before it dawned on him that he had sneezed all over everything within a five-foot radius – including his breakfast, the breakfast table, his drummer and his drummer’s breakfast.
“Bless you.” Pickles grimaced, pushing his plate away from him. “I’m done eating.”
“Fuck, sorry.” Nathan winced, wiping his damp nostrils against the back of his hand, ignoring the shiny streaks of moisture they left. “It didn’t even warn me.”
“You getting sick?” Pickles asked, remarkably calm for someone who had taken the brunt of one of Nathan’s sneezes. The vocalist realised, quite guiltily, that he was probably just used to it at this point. Covering his sneezes wasn’t something he had ever gotten the hang of – but, in his defence, they were so fucking big and overwhelming that once they got started, he couldn’t do much else but let them happen. Regardless, he still felt a little bad as he watched Pickles wipe away some of the glittering spray he’d adorned his arms with.
Was he getting sick, though? He didn’t think so. He sniffled experimentally, just to check, and regretted it immediately. The urge to sneeze flared up again, arching his prominent nostrils and transforming his at-rest frown into a miasma of ticklish agony.
“HUHh-!!”
At least it gave him – and Pickles – a warning, this time.
“Here, Nate, for fucks’ sake.”
Pickles thrust a bandana into Nathan’s hand, but it was too late - it tickled too much. Nathan gasped hugely, broad chest expanding to capacity, and then he was sneezing again, practically roaring with the effort of it.
“- HH’WRRZSSCHH’UHHHHHhh!!!”
He was a big guy with big sneezes, but holy fuck, that one had been gargantuan. He felt like jumping out of his skin with shock even though he was the one sneezing. His chair creaked as he was flung forward, a colossal cloud of spray bursting forth and dousing everything in sight. Nathan blinked his eyes open blearily in time to watch the remnants of it hang in the air in front of him before gradually dissipating into nothingness.
“Brutal.” He muttered, wiping his nose again on his wrist before remembering Pickles’ bandana, still resting limply in his hand. He snuffled into it, rubbing his itchy nose in circles, really going to town because God fucking dammit it tickled so much and scratching felt so good.
“Jesus, Nat’an!”
He peered over at his bandmate, who had leapt back in time to avoid most of the carnage, but not all of it.
“Ya soaked me! Would it kill you to cover your mouth every once in a while?!”
Nathan wanted to feel remorseful, but he was far too focused on how exhausted he suddenly was. It wasn’t a bad kind of exhaustion, necessarily – he still felt tingly all over from the heady rush of the sneezes – but it was strange, given that he’d just woken up after a rare, decent night’s sleep. He snuffled again into the bandana, giving his nose one final swipe before holding it back out to Pickles.
“Thanks.”
The drummer grimaced.
“You keep that. You’re gonna need it for that cold.” Pickles frowned, turning to leave.
“I don’t have a cold!” Nathan called after him. He didn’t, right? He didn’t feel sick at all.
“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t, chief.” Pickles called over his shoulder, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m gonna take a fucking shower.”
“But I just gave you one.” Nathan grinned at his receding back.
“Ha ha, that’s very funny.” Pickles turned to face him as he slipped out the door. “If you get me sick, I’m kickin’ your ass.”
“Like to see you try.” Nathan quipped, and then he was alone.
He stared at his breakfast, wondering if it was still unsanitary to finish it even though the sneezes that had soiled it had been his own. He decided to leave it, wandering back to his room for a power nap. He sneezed once more on the way back to his room, the ear-splitting echo of it causing an unfortunate Klokateer walking past him to shriek in surprise and drop something heavy onto his own foot, which was funny as fuck and totally worth it.
~~~~~
His power nap had turned into a full-blown sleep, but he was still tired when he woke up hours later – potentially more-so than before. He decided he couldn’t face socialising with the rest of the band and opted to hole up in his room for the remainder of the day and work on song lyrics. He’d had major writer’s block whilst recording their previous album so he figured he should get some material primed before they hit the studio in a couple of weeks’ time.
It didn’t go especially well – partially because of all the sneezing he was doing. It felt nice, the ways sneezes tended to, but he was also sick of how many sheets of paper he was destroying with poorly aimed spatterings of spray. Some he’d outright tossed because of the damage; those that he hadn’t had dried almost wrinkled from the sheer amount of moisture they’d been exposed to. His own sneezes didn’t disgust him, but he could appreciate how gross the whole affair was from an outside perspective.
He had dinner brought to his room and fell asleep at some early hour in the morning. Ideally, he would have continued to sleep well after noon the next day had Charles not sent a Klokateer to wake him up for a scheduled practice session – one he had completely forgotten about. He peered at his phone and realised he had slept through multiple phone calls and alarms. Whatever.
As he made his way to hall, he took a moment to mentally assess his general state of wellbeing. Apart from his tickly nose and the endless sniffling, twitching and scrunching it was making him do, he felt fine. All that sleep, no matter how excessive, had clearly done him some good. He’d only sneezed about four times since waking up – another win for his health. He didn’t have a cold because he didn’t want one, and he’d already had two this year already so frankly, it wouldn’t be fair to have caught another. It was a mindset thing, and he was determined to win – a determination compounded by the look of tentative concern Pickles shot his way when he entered the room and joined his waiting bandmates.
~~~~~
Practice was going fine, mostly; they’d put together a decent set and everybody was playing well, even Murderface. It would have been perfect, had the sneezes that Nathan had been convinced were over and done with not decided to make their presence known mid-performance.
He felt the tell-tale tingle in the back of his nostrils just as Skwisgaar started into a lengthy solo. He stopped headbanging (which was admittedly making him feel a little dizzy anyway) and, as subtly as he was able, reached up to massage his nose, hoping to appease the tickle.
It didn’t work. If anything, like stoking the flames of a fire with a poker, he seemed to encourage it, bringing tears of irritation to his eyes that clung to his fluttering eyelashes. God, but that tickled. He tried pinching his nostrils shut, but they were flaring so powerfully they fought against the press of his fingers. The congestion he seemed to have loosened whilst headbanging was doing nothing to help matters either. His expression was crumpling, but Skwisgaar was nearly finished and his part was coming up.
Mind over matter, he reminded himself. Don’t want a cold? Don’t have one. Don’t want to sneeze? Just don’t. Easy.
For a split-second, he seemed to convince himself. He lifted the microphone to his face, took in a huge gasp to fuel his upcoming scream –
“HAHHHH’RZZSHHH’HAHHhhh!!”
And promptly sneezed instead.
The sneeze without amplification would have been enough to shake the rafters; with it, it was practically ear-splitting. The fallout was immediate. His bandmates all jumped out of their skin, stopped playing, and cringed into various protective positions, covering their ears or arching away from the speakers. When the echoing feedback had subsided, all four of them started angrily voicing their frustration, in at least three different languages. Too light-headed to care, Nathan let them get it out of their system, knuckling at his nose and opting to enjoy the tingles of relief that suffused him post-eruption instead.
“Ams you gettings sick?” Skwisgaar asked warily; he’d just gotten over a cold of his own, no doubt contracted from one of his ailing G-MILFs. He’d been a massive baby about it, holing up in his room and refusing to emerge until he felt better. Of course, there’d still been a never-ending stream of groupies coming to and from his room. He’d probably, quite ironically, ended up starting a miniature pandemic via all the fucking despite his self-imposed sequestering.
“Yeah, he is.” Pickles answered from behind his kit, looking as disgruntled as the rest of them.
“I’m not. Jesus, what are you, my mom?”
“Keep acting like a fuckin’ toddler, then yeah, maybe I’ll have to be, douchebag.”
Nathan rolled his eyes, feeling moody and surly. He realised that his nap hadn’t done much for him at all, now that he’d been awake for a while. He was still very much exhausted, and the death-metal vocalising and headbanging certainly hadn’t improved his situation. He just wanted to get this done and go back to his room.
“Just drop it. Let’s get back to fucking practicing, okay?”
“Just promise nots to makes us all deafs, then? My ears ams still ringings.” Toki whined, looking very much like the prospect was about to make him cry. Nathan felt a horrible mix of embarrassment, guilt and self-pity. It wasn’t his fault his nose was being such a bitch today, and it definitely wasn’t his fault he had such big sneezes. Again – big guy, big lungs, inevitably large sneezes. What was so hard for everybody to understand?!
He didn’t dignify Toki with a response.
He lasted another ten minutes before he had to sneeze again. This time, if only to spare him the aggravation of his whiny bandmates, he managed to sneeze away from the mic, twisting to one side and letting loose. It was an absolutely brutal triple that left him leaning over his knees and clutching them for support in the breathless aftermath. A lingering, teasing fourth sneeze tore through him the moment he tried to right himself, almost stumbling under the power of the release.
“- hHAAHGg’TSZZSHHH’UHHHHhh!!”
Groaning, he glanced at the section of the floor that had been unfortunate enough to take the brunt of his fit. It glittered under the lighting, a testament to the sheer enormity of each sneeze. Sucked for him that sneeze spray density wasn’t the kind of thing people generally revered, despite being, in his opinion, an undeniably impressive feat on his part.
In the echoing aftermath, he realised his band had ceased playing and were looking at him with varying degrees of wariness, concern and bemusement. He ignored the scattered blessings and righted himself, snuffling into the tissues he finally remembered he’d crammed into his jean pockets before leaving his bedroom.
“That’s a nasty head-cold, Nate.” Pickles said, watching him from behind his kit. He was looking at Nathan with legitimate concern, but in that bitchy, nagging way that made Nathan feel like a fucking idiot. He bristled in response, considered screaming obscenities at his stupid fucking drummer, then realised he felt too light-headed and decided against it.
“Not a cold.” He grumbled, clearing his throat, which was starting to hurt from the repeat assaults of his untameable sneezes. “I just have allergies or something.”
“Uh-huh. To what?”
Pickles was in full mother-hen mode now – it was driving him fucking insane.
“To fucking plants or whatever. What do you care?”
“Mm-hm. Sure.” Pickles narrowed his eyes at him.
“Will you get off my fucking back and just play the drums, please?”
“Uh-oh.” Murderface muttered, smirking. “Mommy and Daddy are fighting again.”
“Shut up, Murderface!” Pickles flung a drumstick in his direction, which he just managed to dodge with a matrix-esque back-bend. Skwisgaar said something in Swedish or fucking Norwegian, some kind of Scandinavian dig, and then he and Toki were laughing, maybe at his expense, maybe not, and that was about all Nathan could take. He dropped the microphone to the floor, ignoring the squeals of discomfort from the rest of the band at the high-pitched feedback that rang out, and stalked out of the room.
~~~~~
Nathan was awakened from a pitifully unfulfilling doze by the sound of someone pounding on his bedroom door. He groaned, shielding his prickling eyes from the lights he had forgotten to turn off. If he hadn’t felt ill before, he certainly did now. Normally, this ‘feeling like crap’ part of catching a cold came before the incessant sneezing and aggravating sore throat, but this fun little virus seemed to like to keep him on his toes.
The pounding continued, doing nothing for his blossoming headache. Why did naps either leave you in the best condition of your life or feeling like you were waking up after taking a sledgehammer to the face?
“Nathan? It’s me.”
‘Me’ was Pickles. Nathan moaned, then hissed at the sudden pain in his rapidly worsening sore throat. He didn’t need to be judged or lectured.
“Fuck off!” He said, rolling over in bed and attempting to get comfortable again, but it was too late. He was awake now, and aware that he had fallen asleep in his jeans, which was never fun. He sighed and sat up, shifting to swing his legs over the side of his obscenely huge bed.
“Just open the door, douchebag. I come with an offering.”
Nathan would, in just a moment. Sitting up had shifted the building congestion in his swelling sinuses, making his head spin – but more pressingly, it was about to make him sneeze.
“HUhh…” He gasped miserably. He could probably have put in the effort to reach for the tissue box somewhere behind him on the bed, but this cold was making him lazy; he also needed, like, ten tissues bare minimum when he sneezed to prevent blowing a hole right through them and sneezing directly onto his palm anyway. At least without a tissue he just had a wet hand, not a pulpy one.
Ignoring the muffled blessing he snuffled thickly, bringing a shaky hand up to his face to prevent the hanging mess from escaping any further. He looked round, blearily, finding absolutely nothing to hand. He sat for a second, shrugged, then pulled his t-shirt off over his head. Before he changed his mind, he took a deep breath and blew his nose into the fabric as hard as he could. The loud, crackling sound of it ended on an embarrassingly loud honk. He was sounding worse by the minute – what a demonic cold.
“Hold on.” He grumbled, righting himself and heading over to open the door.
“Heyyy, buddy!” Pickles was smiling at him with that ridiculous lop-sided grin, which faded almost instantly as his eyes roved over Nathan’s face. “Oh, man. You look…You don’t look good, Nate.”
“I don’t feel good.” He said, wanting to be offended but feeling too tired to give much of a fuck about anything. “What do you want?”
“Like I said – brought an offering.” Pickles’ smile returned as he lifted a bottle of expensive whiskey for Nathan to admire.
“Ohh, uh. I think I feel too bad for that right now. Thanks, though.” He added, moving to close the door.
“I thought you might say that,” Pickles lifted up the plastic bag in his other hand, “So I brought you something a little less potent. Well, depending on how much you’re takin’, anyway.”
Nathan could make out several bottles of Nyquil and other cold medicines through the polyethylene.
“So, can I come in?”
Nathan regarded him – the blatant, unspoken sheepishness over driving him away plain on his bearded face. A part of him felt like slamming the door on him, but another, much more persuasive part of him wanted his dumb best friend’s company – even if said best friend was a worse nag than almost any girlfriend he’d had.
“Will you get off my case if I say yes?”
“Will you admit you got a cold?” Pickles raised a pierced eyebrow.
Nathan pushed the door open fully and stood to one side.
“Fine. Yes. Have it your way. Now be nice to me, I’m a sick person.”
“I’m always nice to ya.” Pickles wandered in, looking extremely pleased with himself – no doubt smug at having successfully gotten Nathan to admit he was right.
“Listen – I’m not try’nna give you a hard time.” He said, settling himself cross-legged on Nathan’s bed after tipping the contents of the bag onto the covers. “You’re just so…bad at looking after yourself. I don’t like watching you suffer. Plus, you’ve been super stressed out over the upcoming album. You ruminate, y’know.”
Nathan closed his door and walked over, hesitating for a moment before shucking off his jeans and climbing back into bed in his boxers.
“You take terrible care of yourself.” He said pointedly, though not accusatorily, to the drummer. Not one member of their band, bar Toki on occasion, took their health into consideration at all most of the time. Pickles thought alcohol and crystal meth were suitable cures for a cold.
“Maybe so. Don’t mean I can’t care about you, though.” Pickles shrugged and took a deep swig from the whiskey bottle like it was water.
“Faggy of you.”
“Bite me.”
Ten minutes of meaningless, comfortable conversation passed between the two of them, during which Nathan took an unmeasured gulp of Nyquil and settled back into his impressive pile of pillows. He normally didn’t sleep with all that many, but when he was sick he felt a compelling urge to fashion a kind of pillow-based nest. It was comforting, especially combined with the drummer’s easy-going chatter lulling him into a partial doze.
His pleasant state of relaxation was disturbed by the incredibly rude return of a cold-induced tickle, starting in the depths of his sinuses and spreading in a sudden rush throughout his entire nose. His nostrils flared wide within a split-second, arching in utter desperation.
“Ugh, fuck…” He muttered, sitting up lazily and preparing to sneeze.
“Okay, big guy?”
“Gonna sneeze.” He stated matter-of-factly, resigning himself to the draining process. Pickles was to the side of him and fortunately out of the splash zone if he sneezed directly in front of himself, which would have to do either way because the sneeze was almost done building, bringing tears to his eyes.
“HUHhh-!”
He sucked in one huge gasp, held right on the precipice of release for several painstaking seconds. If it wasn’t just Pickles getting a front-row-seat to the show, he would have felt some element of embarrassment at how nakedly desperate his face was sure to look. He was thankful he couldn’t see himself; he could feel the way his face hung slack, eyebrows knit together and mouth yawning open in total surrender to the overwhelming urge to sneeze.
At last, his body decided to grace him with release, and his expression drew tight, nostrils flaring wide as he rocked forward with each huge cold sneeze.
Fuck, they just weren’t stopping. One should have been enough, but this cold was relentless; he sucked in another huge breath, oxygen supply entirely depleted by the previous triple, then sneezed again, twice.
Jesus. His ears were practically ringing in the aftermath, both from the ear-splitting volume of them and the rush of blood to his face from the pure effort of letting them out. He sniffled thickly, holding back the deluge of mess threatening to overflow from his flexing nostrils. After a couple of moments, the pleasurable post-sneeze rush was shuddering through him, a small respite amidst the increasing feeling of general unwellness.
“God…” He muttered, feeling dizzy and weak.
“Bless you! You gonna make it?” Pickles was saying, reaching out to rub his back comfortingly, applying pressure that massaged Nathan’s muscles in just the right way. Unfortunately, combined with the rush of the sneezes, it was making him unexpectedly and irrepressibly horny. Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d had sex? Two weeks ago? That definitely counted as a dry spell, right? Maybe Pickles was onto something – he wasn’t looking after himself.
He let Pickles paw at him for a little longer, mulling things over in his mind. He really could stand to bust a nut right now. It had been a long time since he’d messed around with the drummer, and it was never something that was planned before nor discussed after. It just sort of…existed between them, like a nameless but not unwelcome spectre that occasionally made itself known.
What the hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He waited until Pickles dropped his hand and reached for his alcohol, then cleared his throat.
“Actually, there is something that might make me feel better.”
“Oh?” Pickles said, taking another generous swig of whiskey from the bottle. “And that is?”
“A blowjob.”
Pickles choked a little when a sudden burst of laughter coincided with another swig. Wiping the back of his hand against his lips, he looked over at Nathan, all bright-eyed and smirking.
“What makes you think you deserve one, huh?”
Nathan snuggled back into his pillows, attempting to take on the affectation of a sickly Victorian child.
“Look at me. I’m at death’s door, Pickles.” He sniffled, rather unnecessarily as his extra-gravelly voice made him sound plenty unwell. “Do you want your bandmate to die without getting any goodbye brain?”
Pickles coughed out another little laugh.
“You’re unbelievable. You’ve been a total brat all fucking day and now you want me to suck you?”
“Yes.” Nathan said, staring at him with the closest approximation to puppy dog eyes he was capable of. He didn’t want to know what that looked like, but from the sudden, defeated slumping of Pickles’ shoulders, he knew it had worked.
“Okay, you know what? Fine. You’re a spoiled douchebag, but I’m part of the problem.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It is. But just so you know,” Pickles placed the whiskey on the floor, crawling closer to Nathan on the bed. “I haven’t done this in a hot minute and I’m tipsy as hell, so no promises it’ll be any good.”
“I’m not a complicated guy. You know this.”
“Yeah, just, y’know - lowerin’ your expectations.”
Nathan nodded, then inhaled sharply at the sensation of Pickles’ fingers skimming the skin of his thigh, making their way up to his boxer shorts. His cock twitched, which did not escape the drummer’s attention; he smirked in satisfaction.
“Sensitive.” He muttered, and Nathan twitched again hearing the husky arousal in the drummer’s voice. He would have blushed but managed not to do so reminding himself he wasn’t some virginal nun and that it was just Pickles, for fucks’ sake. He grunted softly as his hardening cock was pulled through the slit of his underwear.
“Wanna take those off for me or you want it like this?” Pickles asked, and Nathan had to take a second to understand what he was saying, given his clever, dexterous fingers were wrapping round the length of him.
“Oh. Uh, yeah, hold on.”
He wriggled his boxers inelegantly down his thighs, grateful when Pickles pulled them the rest of the way down his legs for him. He spat in his hand before taking Nathan back in his grip, starting a gentle but firm rhythm on him, teasing his balls with the other. Nathan felt himself melting back into the mattress and tensing all at once, a paradoxical and pleasurable sensation he welcomed as it eclipsed the feeling of general ill-health.
As if summoned by the thought of his crappy well-being, his nose was tingling again. He managed to twist to the side with one huge gasp, spraying a heady “AIISSSHHHHH’AHHHH!!” across his pillowcase.
“Bless you. One other thing – do NOT sneeze on me while your cock is in my mouth or I’m biting the sucker off.”
“Deal.” Nathan sighed, letting himself relax and enjoy the pleasurable sensation of skilled fingers jerking him until he was rock hard and throbbing.
“God, I always forget how big you are.” Pickles murmured, sounding more happy than wary about the fact. He traced a finger delicately over Nathan’s urethra, which the vocalist loved. “My jaw’s gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.”
“Nn.” Nathan grunted, hips jerking a little as the mere thought of Pickles swallowing down his cock sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine. “Stop teasiihh-! Teasing me…!”
Now that was embarrassing; the urge to sneeze scrambling back mid-sentence, making his voice crack with a desperate, breathy inhale.
“Need’ta sneeze?”
Nathan made a frantic sound of affirmation, clumsily twisting his body to the side for another body-shaking triple.
It wasn’t just his body, but the bed, Pickles, the entire room seemed to shake as they hurtled out of him. Though tiring, they felt incredibly relieving and tingled in the best way; Nathan moaned in satisfaction, snatching his discarded t-shirt up and bringing it to his face for an indulgent nose rub.
“Fuck.” He snuffled into the fabric, blinking back tears.
“Bless you, Nathan. Holy fuck!” Pickles was laughing. Nathan frowned at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nah, it’s just – did you know that your wiener fucking jerks up and down when you sneeze?”
He did not know that. It was kind of funny to think about, Nathan had to admit. Pickles looked more than childishly amused, though – he looked downright hungry, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering. It set Nathan’s entire body on fire.
“Does that turn you on?” He asked, pleased to hear that all the congestion and soreness lent an especially gravelly huskiness to the low timbre of his voice that already had most girls creaming their panties.
Pickles smirked and shrugged, looking only a little sheepish.
“Would you hold it against me if I said yes?”
“I’ll never hold anything against you ever again if you just suck my cock, already.”
“Jeez, hold on, I’m gettin’ to it.”
The comforting warmth of a wet, hot mouth wrapping round his cock would never, ever get old. Nathan grunted, hips pulsing gently as Pickles inched down on him, taking him like a champ. He was genuinely impressed to feel the drummer nosing at his pubic hair, cock fully seated in his throat. He certainly wouldn’t want to swallow down a cock relative to the size of his forearm, but he sure was grateful his best friend seemed to enjoy slobbering all over the length of him. His eyelashes fluttered, a groan easing out of him as Pickles started up a rhythmic sucking and bobbing motion. He desperately wanted to tug on the drummer’s dreads, giving him something to ground himself and an excuse to touch Pickles, then remembered the angry punches he’d received in the past for even trying. He settled on clutching the bedsheets in his balled-up fists instead, lying back to enjoy the ride.
God, Pickles was great at this. He needn’t have tried to lower Nathan’s expectations at all. He was as good as any experienced groupie – maybe even better, no practiced moans and overdone tricks, just sheer effort, perfect suction and sloppy licking that had Nathan’s eyes rolling back into his head in pure bliss.
“Fuck, Pickles…”
The drummer moaned in response, sending pleasant vibrations throughout his cock. Hot spikes of pleasure teased their way up and down his spine. He was sweating, the build-up to orgasm so intense he was almost nervous about how good it would feel when he did cum.
It was all going so well, and he was so fucking close, that of course his nose started to tickle unbearably. Willing his nostrils to stop flaring, he wrinkled his nose and scrunched his eyes closed. It did nothing to help, and so he resigned himself to inevitability of it. He’d never sneezed during sex before; he wondered what it would feel like. Remembering Pickles’ threat and not wanting to find out whether it had been more than a bluff, Nathan lifted a wavering hand to his face.
“Pi’hihh’ckles…I – HUHh-!!”
He peered down the length of his body to see his drummer staring up at him, mouth full of cock and piercing green eyes heavy-lidded and sparkling. His cock throbbed in response, and the sneeze ebbed, warring with the mounting pleasure. He moaned, then gasped as the tickle surged forward, an absolutely maddening back and forth between the duelling sensations in his cock and nose.
For several moments, he genuinely wasn’t sure if he would ever cum or sneeze, caught in a liminal purgatory where one urge perpetually cancelled out the other. Then Pickles pulled back, dragging his tongue against the sensitive underside of Nathan’s cock before circling it round the head and digging into his urethra. The sharp stab of pleasure had him gasping - and then his breath was hitching, eyes sliding shut and nostrils arching to capacity behind his hand, and –
“-hHEHHHGK’DZZZSSSHHH’AHHHHhhhh!!!”
It tore through him, the biggest sneeze of his cold thus far, a total fucking monster. He caught most of it in his waiting palm, instantly soaking it and sending little rivulets of moisture dribbling down his wrist. It felt absolutely amazing, the aftershock trembling through him, elevated by the feeling of Pickles (who had quite miraculously not gagged on his cock as he bucked underneath him) sucking him down. He had a second before his lungs were sucking in another gasp, so deep he felt light-headed, and then he was sneezing again, possibly even more violently than before.
“HUHHHH’WRZZSHHHHH’UHHHhh!!!”
Another soaking affair, his hand taking the brunt of it, though he felt some of the spray slash across his chest and stomach. Ecstatic, he moaned, head tipping back in sheer pleasure. Again, he had only a second of peace before the next sneeze struck, the tickle seeming to spread far beyond his sinuses and leave his entire face tingling in anticipation. The gasp that preceded it was shaky, pleading, as if his body could take no more of the sheer effort each explosion required.
“HAAHHgKK’TZZSSSCHHH’UHHHHH!!!”
Another stunner. Pure pleasure cascaded through him as the release rocked his body. Preparing to build up to another, his nostrils still flaring wide under the pressure of the tickle, he gasped in shock and ecstasy as his orgasm seized him instead. It was as though his brain, discombobulated by the practically simultaneous reflexes, forgot to warn him with any of its usual pre-orgasmic tingling. Maybe it had done, and the sneeze had simply been too powerful to allow him to focus on anything else. Either way, as the pleasure crashed over him in soothing waves, he at last found his voice, moaning loudly and unintelligibly as he shot into Pickles’ heavenly mouth, still sucking and stroking and making everything hotter than ever.
It seemed to last for a while, the most satisfying orgasm of recent memory, until it released him all at once; he practically melted onto the bedsheets, trembling helplessly.
“Ohhh fuckkkk…” He sighed. He was pretty sure he’d gone cross-eyed at one point.
He was vaguely aware of the glorious suction releasing his over-sensitised cock, and the cold sensation of his wet dick exposed to the open air. He peered over at Pickles, gulping down a terrible combination of whiskey and Nathan’s nut without so much as a grimace. Impressive. Nathan took the opportunity to wipe his sneeze-drenched hand on the sheets beside him. They were a helpless mess, anyway; it felt like he was lying in a puddle, he was sweating so hard.
“So?” Pickles’ face appeared over his own, flushed and smirking. “How was that?”
“You know how it was, motherfucker.” He said, feeling utterly refreshed, forgetting for a blissful moment the cold that was dogging him. “You’re concerningly good at that.”
“You’re welcome.” Pickles looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He’d always been a glutton for praise (and degradation, depending on the when and where, but post-orgasm wasn’t the time to consider that).
Pickles’ face edged out of his eye-line. Nathan continued to stare up into the space it had occupied, mindlessly taking in the roof of his four-poster as the mattress dipped next to him. The sound of a zipper being pulled down followed by the unmistakable sound of furious masturbation alerted him to the fact that his drummer had enjoyed sucking him almost as much as he’d enjoyed being sucked. Incredibly gay. His limp, spent cock gave a weak little twinge of excitement.
He turned his head to watch, first at Pickles’ pumping hand, the wet head of his cock shiny and drooling. Nathan vaguely thought about offering to suck Pickles in return, them imagined sneezing with cock in his mouth and decided to save them both a trip to the hospital. He turned his attention to Pickles’ face, then; even though they’d fucked, even though he had just gotten head, it still felt like peeping on an incredibly private moment. He never gave his own sex face much thought, too preoccupied with feeling good. Pickles’ looked almost tortured with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, the corners of his slack mouth twitching. Nathan hissed as his cock throbbed again, entirely over-sensitised.
Pickles seemed to at last realise that he had been watching. He glanced at Nathan, shooting him a wink and a shameless smile.
Nathan turned on his side as Pickles shifted closer, then reached round the drummer’s narrow waist to pull his back flat against his front. His left arm wrapped round Pickles’ chest whilst his right reached down, taking Pickles in hand. He was so much smaller than Nathan; his cock almost vanished in the tight grip of his fist.
“Ohh, yeahh…” Pickles sighed, back arching. He reached up with both hands to grip at the arm across his chest, heels skimming Nathan’s shins as he squirmed.
“Good?” Nathan muttered against the shell of Pickles’ ear.
“Yeahh…don’t stop, m’really close already.” Pickles slurred, then moaned as Nathan picked up the pace, fucking back into his fist.
Nathan kept at it. He wasn’t doing anything special – just some good ol’ up and down jerking – but Pickles was worked up enough that his lazy efforts were enthusiastically received, nonetheless.
It ought to have been expected that he would need to sneeze again so soon. The bliss of orgasm was starting to wane a little, his cold resurfacing – and with it, the ungodly tickle in his nose. He didn’t have the energy to choke out a warning, nor to twist himself out of their embrace. Figuring he was going to sneeze anyway, he pressed his nose up against Pickles’ shoulder and waited. He’d deal with whatever rage was coming his way later.
After a couple of seconds passed (during which he had faltered his jerking only slightly), the sensation became unbearable. He sucked in one huge breath, pushing the drummer forwards slightly as his chest expanded against his back, then cringed into a sloppily suppressed sneeze, nuzzling his face into the fabric of Pickles’ shirt.
“hHHHH’MPPFTSHHH’Hhhhh!!”
Like all the previous sneezes, everything shuddered as a result – him, the bed, and at such close proximity, caged in his arms, Pickles as well. He heard the drummer yelp in surprise, which was to be expected. He mashed his dripping nose against his bandmate’s shoulder to ease the residual tickly sensation, too gentle to transform into another sneeze just yet, thank fuck. He listened for the shout of indignation, prepared for an armful of fighting, royally pissed off drummer. Instead, Pickles gasped, went tense for a moment, then groaned unabashedly as he came all over Nathan’s hand.
Huh. Nathan had not been expecting that. He stroked Pickles throughout, holding him as he arched and sighed in his grip. His cock throbbed again, and he realised it was starting to harden. Too bad he had zero intention of doing anything other than passing out within the next ten minutes. The fabric of Pickles shirt was drenched where he’d sneezed, so he continued to rub his nose over any dry spots he could find, effectively using him like his personal handkerchief. Pickles still wasn’t complaining; he appeared to be recovering from his unexpectedly potent orgasm, fingers flexing over Nathan’s forearm, muttering little “Oh my gahd”s and “Nate”s over and over.
Nathan felt himself starting to doze off, even with his cum-covered hand lightly cradling Pickles’ flaccid cock. He knew Pickles loved to cuddle after sex - too gay for words - but he couldn’t deny it felt nice to lie there all tingly and sweaty and mutually satisfied.
“…Nat’an. Nate. You can let go now.”
Nathan started awake, feeling Pickles rubbing his sideburn against his cheek like an overgrown cat. He grunted, rolling himself with great effort onto his back as Pickles squirmed away. His right hand was tacky with semen; he grimaced at it, relatively impressed with the size of the load Pickles had shot.
“Brutal.” He muttered.
“Here,” Pickles said, a dopey, post-orgasm smirk on his face. He pulled his shirt off over his head and used it to wipe away most of his nut from Nathan’s fingers, then gave his cock the same treatment. Nathan’s dick twitched as he watched his bandmate indulgently massaging himself through the fabric. This cold was clearly heavily symptomatic of homosexual tendencies.
Pickles kicked off his jeans, fully nude at last, then flopped down beside Nathan, cradling his whiskey bottle and looking serene.
“God, that was a rush.” He said, taking a swig.
“You’re welcome?” Nathan said. “I sneezed on you, though.”
“Really?” Pickles drawled, teasing. “I didn’t even notice.”
“Thought you were gonna bite my cock off or something, if I did that.”
Pickles shrugged.
“Too drunk. Don’t care.”
That was an understatement. He’d moaned like a porn star when he shot his load, right after Nathan snotted all over his back. Nathan thought for a moment about the implication – his sneezing and Pickles’ orgasm. Or something. He was too tired to consider it with any serious contemplation. His brain was mush right now, he was pretty sure. Unthinkingly, though, he did mutter:
“I think my sneeze made you cum. Maybe.”
Pickles shrugged again, staring up at the canopy of Nathan’s bed.
“Who knows.”
You, Nathan thought. You know. Whatever. It wasn’t a big deal, especially not when his eyes were sliding shut in preparation for what promised to be an immensely satisfying sleep.
“Is it cool if I crash here?” Pickles asked, already helping himself to Nathan’s sheets and cocooning himself inside them.
“Sure.” Nathan said, pulling some of the blanket over himself. “I might sneeze you awake, though.”
“I doubt it.” Pickles said, tossing aside the huge whiskey bottle – now entirely empty. “Night, dude.”
Nathan blinked open his eyes, acutely aware of the bed trembling with every sneeze. Not his own, he suddenly realised – definitely not him. Which meant –
“hHehH’EISHH’IEWWw!! Tha-hah!! HaHp’TISHHh’ieww!! Fuck, fucking fuck. Thank you. Actually – fuck you. You gave me your fucking cold, y’douchebag.”
Nathan peered over at the drummer – sat up in bed, sneezing fittishly into the corner of his blanket. He grinned to see how dishevelled and overwhelmed Pickles looked. His sneezes were hardly as big as Nathan’s, but what he lacked in power he made up for with quantity and intensity. Once he got started, especially when his allergies were going batshit insane, he couldn’t seem to stop. It was kind of cute – mostly just extremely amusing.
Pickles noticed him smirking and frowned in response, narrowing his eyes at him. He hesitated, then blew his nose aggressively into Nathan’s blanket.
“Ugh. I have tissues, somewhere. Come on, man.”
“Find ‘em for me, then.”
Nathan’s smirk grew larger at the evident congestion in Pickles’ voice, transmogrifying his heavy Wisconsin accent until it was an almost unintelligible garble of vowels and consonants. He didn’t complain when Pickles cuddled up to him, burying his face into the crook of his neck.
“I’ll definitely sneeze on you if you stay there.” He said.
Pickles didn’t say anything. Nathan wondered if he’d heard him, then jumped in surprise when the drummer let out three rapid-fire sneezes against the column of his throat. He peered up in amusement when Pickles straddled his chest, rubbing his nose fiercely with the heel of his hand – a terrible habit of the chronically allergic.
“Whatever. Now we’re even.”
“I’m not so sure.” Nathan muttered, running a hand down Pickles’ spine, grinning when the drummer shuddered all over in response. Way too fucking easy.
“Okay.” Pickles said, lowering himself onto Nathan’s chest. His erection dug into the soft flesh of Nathan’s stomach. “Wanna wrestle?”
Please please please I hope you write about more ''not purposeful contagion'' stuff that's the best post I've seen in for ever
When somebody sneezes into their scarf and then gives it to their cold-blooded partner to cuddle into
When someone sneezes in an empty room and covering everything in the fine mist of their coating sneezes
When somebody is trapped in their partners embrace, trying desperately to escape but unable to speak through hitching breaths until the inevitable failure comes and they end up sneezing directly on their unsuspecting partner
When a sick someone's warmth seeking partner climbs under their blanket that they had spent all day sneezing into and despite trying their best they just can't seem to remember to aim their sneezes elsewhere
When a miserable somebody drapes themselves over their partner only to be surprised by a sudden tickle, unable to turn away in time and instead bending into their partners bare shoulder
When somebody wakes in the middle of the night and is unable to think before a barrage of sleepy sneezes overcomes them, the mist coating their sleeping companion
When a kiss of reunion turns into an instant sneezing fit as their partners new perfume bothers their now sensitive nose, their partner caught in the crossfire as their sinuses desperately try and remove the irritant
When a miserable and exhausted somebody's brain is so fogged that no matter how hard they try they always seem to bring up cover just a second too late, unable to shield their partner despite their desperate attempts
When somebody's worried partner reassuringly winds their arms around them in response to their hitching breaths and no matter how hard they try they are unable to stem the inevitable explosion
When somebody expecting their usual hands free stifle gets surprised by a forceful drenching expulsion, catching their partner in their unexpected spray zone
Sorry it took awhile but I used most of them on the other post, that's also why this one is slightly diffrent.
SNZ, WLW, LOTS OF MESS, ILLNESS, CONTAGION, LIGHT SEXUAL TOUCHING, NOSEPLAY, TASTING SNOT, ETC
My friend Maddison is the most incredible loving person. We met near the end of high school and her joy for life infected me so thoroughly that I call her my favourite drug, which makes her laugh in the most perfect head-tilt back genuine way I've seen every time, which is so characteristic of her. One of her best qualities, and what really sets her apart from everyone else I've ever met, is how intently she listens. When you're talking she makes you feel like the world has stopped and you're her lifeline, like there's nowhere she'd rather be, as if there couldn't possibly be anything more important than what you're telling her right now. I think it could start thundering above our heads, rain pouring down in solid sheets soaking our bones, and she would just keep looking at me with her rich brown eyes, heavy mascara running down her cheeks. I adore her completely, my other half.
We are almost nothing alike, or at least we weren't when we met, in personality or appearance. Since then she's cracked me out of my shell a bit, although she herself isn't wildly social she's certainly moreso than me, and I've in turn introduced her to a plethora of my favourite novels and films, from mystery to romance to historical. But I've tried to be as present as she is, and it just doesn't come naturally. Eye contact scares me with most people (except Maddison, whose eyes I have memorized) and I always get distracted by something, or someone, or everything happening behind me and end up missing half a conversation. I swear, I try, especially with Maddison. But that's just another thing to her credit, she understands that it's not an insult when I ask her in earnest to repeat what she just said twelve seconds ago after I already somehow forgot.
If we now have some slight similarities in interests, then we are complete night and day in looks. She has sleek glossy black hair with brown highlights around her face, pale freckled skin, and her tallness is accentuated by her slight build. And, part of her that I find enticingly adorable but would never admit so, is her upturned nose and the way her very visible nostrils flare when she sneezes, never turning or covering. I'm too timid to correct her, way too timid, and I respect her too much to embarrass her in this way anyway (even though she wouldn't be), but she's not a messy sneezer so it doesn't really matter. Or so I thought, until today.
Maddison met me outside class because we share an apartment for uni, and she has a car (I failed my test three times and have given up until I graduate). As we crossed the parking lot I noticed she was sniffing a lot, but I didn't want to interrupt her talking about how her art class went just to mention it. I was simultaneously having a very hard time paying attention to what she was saying and utterly transfixed on her. It was so rare to see Maddison sick, and I would know if she had allergies by now. Her nostrils were such a defining feature of her face, which made it even more obvious that something was wrong since I could always see right up them. Their usual emptiness was replaced with a thick cascading stream that must be just as obvious to any other onlooker, which made me wonder if Maddison knew how visible it was, and why she didn't grab a tissue. Was she not embarrassed by that?
"...but maybe we can just buy pizza on the way home, since I'm already exhausted tonight."
I completely missed the topic changing, but agreed enthusiastically at the mention of pizza, one thing we both enjoy eating. I jump in her passenger seat, throwing my bag in the back, and we're off. This is the one time she won't give me undivided attention, keeping her eyes firmly on the road, along with the rest of her head. But I'm looking at her, and her leaking nose threatening to overflow if not for her near-constant and stubborn sniffles which have only gotten more intense since we left the school. She seems to feel no need to address the situation, despite the full box of tissues sitting in wait between us, and her nose desperately begging to be emptied into them. I briefly imagine it, the relief it would give her, the sound... but the energy is almost unbearable for me, and I find myself squirming in my seat uncomfortably from secondhand embarrassment, too late socially to mention anything about her apparent cold now, hands tucked firmly between my thighs.
At the pizza place we make our order at the counter, since it would be unnecessary to call ahead when the drive is three minutes, and sit at the high counter in front of the window to chat while we wait. My face is now red-hot from the lingering look of apprehension and disgust the cashier gave Maddison's germ infested nostrils as she spoke, snot quivering in wait ready to escape before she snorts it back up loudly and shamelessly, even though that hardly prevents it from being visible. I can barely look at her head-on without blushing, thinking about it.
She's telling me about class again, maybe sensing that I missed it the first time--she is observant--and I do enjoy hearing about her day, when suddenly her head tilts back slightly, not in a laugh, but in preparation to sneeze."
Eheh--ehehhh... EHEEHH--" she hitches in warning, making a minimal but futile effort to hold the illness at bay. "EHH-KIIIITSCHUEWW!"
As usual, she neither covers her mouth nor turns to the side, keeping her face trained on me regardless of the sudden interruption. Unlike usual, her flaring nostrils each expel a thick river of snot onto her upper lip, and I can feel a spray of saliva hit me directly. I'm caught incredibly off guard to the point where I stammer out the world's awkwardest "b-bless you, wow," something I hardly do in the first place.
Maddison continues talking right where she left off, sniffling back the snot rockets as if it were nothing different than blinking. I realize I might need a third run-through of her day after this. I'm still in shock processing the droplets dotting my arms and face, freezing me in place.
There's a couple standing outside in front of the glass when Maddison sneezes again, fullbody.
"Hehhh--HEH... EHHH--HITCSSSCHUUH! IITSHHUEWUH!"
She barely even tries holding back this time, forcefully launching projectiles towards both me and the window, globs getting caught in my curls and hanging from my hair like ornaments, and showering the glass enough to thankfully hide our faces to the outside world. I'm not sure if Maddison has noticed the mess she caused, but the couple have moved away, their appetites ruined. Surely she must be able to tell from looking that my face is a bit more than misted? But my own embarrassment keeps me from wiping my glasses clean, and I simply blink at her slowly as if that will fix it. I do take notice that she stops sniffling so much after clearing out her nose, at least temporarily.
But our pizzas are ready and we pick up her spicy pepperoni and jalapeño, and my plain cheese with ranch on the side, and head back to the car.
On the road she keeps the window open, ruffling her feathered bangs into her face gently from the breeze. In the setting sun she practically glows. And just minutes later she starts sniffling again, thickly, wetly. She brings her knuckles up to roughly massage her wide open nostrils, and when her hand leaves to rest back on the wheel it's glistening with wetness. I think it must be a miracle how her nose has already filled up again, just as ready to go after the disaster I just witnessed in the pizza place.
Unfortunately, she doesn't sneeze in the car, but as soon as we step into the apartment she nearly drops both boxes as she breathily sneezes on them, coating the lid of mine in droplets.
"Hiiiiiisheww, HISCHEWW, heh-eschiuuew, ITSCHUUUH, HEESHEWW... ehhh... HEEHH... oh god..." she tries to catch her breath, almost bent in half, clutching the pizzas like a lifeline. She can barely get the door closed behind her with her foot before the next fit takes over her body.
A single thin hanging strand of snot glistens almost cutely from her right nostril (the rest of her nose's contents splayed out less cutely drenching the top of my pizza box) and stays suspended as we sit side by side on the couch to eat.
Now it's my turn to tell her about my day, and even though I know the material baffles her, I recount my statistics class in as much detail as I remember, which doubles as review for me. I also add in my professor's personal anecdote about his ongoing feud with his neighbour's cat digging up his tulip bulbs every spring, just because I like knowing Maddison is listening to me. Right in the middle of me humourously quoting my professor's neighbour I think Maddison is going to laugh again, but instead as she tilts her head back to expose her flaring drippy nostrils I remember she's sick just in time and move my pizza to the side. Of course, it has never occured to me to move out of the blast radius, even though I have plenty of time as she screws up her face and hitches repeatedly. Probably that would be rude, anyway, and I really don't mind her sneezing on me at all. What I'm not expecting is the sudden explosive fit that comes out of her, even more intense than before, sending her careening forward right into my lap and so close to my own face that I could have nearly kissed her, had she not been teeming with contagion. She doesn't even pretend to stop it coming now.
I think the onslaught has stopped when I see her nose twitch once again and she sends the wettest sneeze I have ever felt directly against my mouth.
"Uhhh... UHHH... HUHH--UMPTSSCHEEW!"
I can taste the saltiness of her snot on my lip, a strand connecting me to her straight from her nose, and see more of it slowly falling from her wide open nostrils onto her cleavage, with no more attempts at sniffling to hold it back. We are so close, I can hear her breathing. Or maybe that's because of how thick and ragged it sounds.
"What?" she catches me staring. "Want to kiss me or something, Anna?" she teases, still breathless.
I do, very very much, I realize, not sure if that's even allowed. Or push her into the couch with my entire body.
"How about getting me a Kleenex or several instead of sitting there staring?" she smiles with a stream still running down her face. "I must look absolutely atrocious."
So she did notice the mess, although she deliberately didn't apologize to me. Oh god, she knew this whole time.
My face burns as I get up, pushing her from my lap, and now finally her head tilts back in laughter instead, giving me yet another excellent view up her nose before I turn to the bathroom.
When I return with the goods she insists I wipe her nose completely for her, because she "can't see it" herself. I try to get away with a quick swipe but she cleverly keeps saying there's more, even when I've got it all from her face, so in my confusion she guides my hand down to gently wipe her cleavage. I'm paying attention to her expression as I stick my hand between her breasts and all the way into her bra to make sure I've got it all. I realize with embarrassment that I'm taking my time, shocked at how big they feel under her clothes. She doesn't stop me or look one bit uncomfortable even when my hand "accidentally" brushes against her nipple for the seventh time, only arching her chest forward into my touch, but even after I'm sure I'm done she says there's still more, and pushes back the tip of her nose to reveal the endlessly stuffed up interior.
"Hahh... HAPPSCHUHHH..." as if on cue, she sneezes again, catapulting fresh boogers down the front of my shirt with surprising force, almost intentionally.
Miraculously, her face is still clean, but now she's pulling my head closer to her and positioning my mouth over her nose. I yelp as her burning feverish hands grab my chest under my shirt, and unclasp my bra.
I hungrily swirl my tongue around her nostrils, sucking out her snot in the strongest suction I can manage, and tickling inside as deeply as possible while she plays with my nipples.
She quivers under me and sneezes again, "APPSCHEEW," the mess exploding into my mouth, and then a second time even stronger, with moaning.
"Mmm... HXSSHUH... unnghh. It feels so... so... oh my god. I can't... mmm. Sorta tickles--GUHHHTSCHUHMPH!"
Her nose is soaking inside and out, and I can feel her body going into overdrive to flood her system with mucus that won't stop flowing.
"Feels good, though. To get it out." she murmurs. "You're much better than a Kleenex, Anna."
I really enjoy someone sneezing from being cold, especially cold and wet. Not sick or getting sick even, just purely from the cold. Give me a guy getting soaked in the freezing rain and letting out a string of tiny, pitiful sneezes, even an hour or more after he's come inside, wrapped himself in a blanket, and had a mug of cocoa.
Imma be so honest we need a better tagging system for contagion.
Like, sometimes I wanna get off to ppl sharing a cold or sneezing on the bus or dmth, but I either need to go lurk on a specific blog, or risk seeing posts about an old movie or real-life scary stuff.
We already have great tags like #messfucker and #coldfucker but #contagionfucker is too long maybe?
someone using their shirt to tend to their nose because they dont have any tissues. just a wet crumpled patch of snot left on the shirt. sneezing wetly into the collar which immediately becomes darker from dampness. the sticky string of snot that connects their red nostrils with the soggy shirt. them having a productive nose blow into it, soaking it in mucus whilst having the snot stick it to their chest. them having to change their shirt only to have their nose ooze all over it again just because they cant get any tissues
So, I wrote this fic a while ago (during my super horny peak lol), and I found it today when I looked through some fic folders, polished it up a bit, and decided to post. It has plenty of mess and hints at contagion.
CW: MESS
***
Jenny had the worst cold in recent memory and bad as she felt about abandoning her post, there was no way she’d make it to work today. She had texted her boss to let him know as soon as she woke up to the headachy, snot-dripping reality that was her life right now, and he had called her up. Probably expecting to be able to talk her into ‘sucking it up’, but it only took about ten seconds for him to conclude that yeah, she really was sick, and if she somehow managed to drag herself to work, the only thing she’d accomplish would be to pass her snotty plague on to the rest of the team.
