Quifrey catching an awfully messy cold and trying to hide it because he doesn't want it to spread... but Olly catching said cold while taking care of sick Quifrey
✦ hiiii !!!!! anon!!!!!! i want u to know that this hasnt left my brain from the moment you sent it. this is the first thing ive finished in so long. i wish it was longer and had more snz, but im so rusty T_T pls enjoy!!!!
Qifrey knows Olruggio. Knows almost everything, after years of being together, his tells and behaviors, and he loves it, aside from when it goes the other way around. Olruggio isn't easily decieved by him, no matter what he tries. Qifrey can tell from the sideways look he gets at breakfast while he’s resisting the urge to cradle his head in his hands.
He had woken up late after turning in early, exhaustion seemingly triggered by the rain that had been pelting the atelier for a few days now, making his head throb. Upon waking up that morning, he realized it was only actually accentuating an existing pain, starting under his eyes and working its way into his temples. He had scrambled up to find the girls already awake, and came up with some flimsy excuse that none of them bought. It's his own fault for having such smart apprentices, but he would appreciate it if they gave him some slack.
As is his usual luck, it's one of the few days Olruggio is awake before noon. While Qifrey struggles not to slump against the wall of their kitchen as his apprentices eat their breakfast in the other room, easily entertained by their own ideas, thank goodness, because Qifrey’s throat feels thick and the vibration of his own voice echoes through his head in sharp pains, Olruggio staggers downstairs and into the room, likely in search of coffee. His hair is mussed, and he's still blinking away sleep, but when his eyes lock with Qifrey’s they hesitate for a moment too long.
Qifrey tries to smile, but it makes Olruggio’s brows furrow, so he just turns away to gently wipe his nose against his wrist. He’s been caught like always. It’d be easier to hold up the facade if Olruggio didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, because he just feels guilty lying to him. He sighs with defeat when Olruggio leans against the counter and levels him with a stern look.
“You look awful.” Olruggio says, voice still rough. Qifrey sniffles again, nose irritated by the steam wafting off the bowls of oatmeal in front of him, feeling all too much like he's advertising his symptoms. “I’m quite alright.” He says, and his voice is just as congested as he feared it would be. How embarrassing he is. “Just a cold.”
Olruggio huffs, leaning over to gruffly force a hand against Qifrey’s forehead that he's a bit too unsteady to dodge. “Jus’ a cold.” He murmurs. “You’re awfully warm for that.” Qifrey smiles again, suddenly finding his nose itchy. He pushes olruggio’s hand away, not unkindly, and steps back a bit to create space, waving a halfhearted hand in front of his face. “Not at all,” He can’t help the wince that comes across his face, the feeling aggravating both his sinus’ and his headache. “I’m merely warm from bearing near the stove. I’m in a fine state to-” has to pause to press a knuckle against his nose, which ends up having the opposite effect. The itch crescendos, so he has to whip around in an attempt to protect Olruggio from the worst of his symptoms.
“ ‘chT-!" he has to pause for a moment, curled over into his wrist, until his vision returns from static and he can feel anything but the thundering pulsing of his own skull. After a few deep breaths, he manages to straighten up and almost-look Olruggio in the eye. He looks annoyed, but not in the way he does when dealing with frustrating clients or mental blocks. He looks, frustrated, almost, closer to when their girls stubbornly refuse rest, or even Qifrey, sometimes. It's not a look he likes very much when it's placed onto himself.
“Go to bed.” Never one to mince his words, Olruggio tells him flat out. “You’re going to fall over.” Qifrey was perfectly able to come to that conclusion himself, because there is still grey towards the corners of his vision, and his legs are starting to get suspiciously shaky. It's not something his lovely Olruggio should be seeing, though. Having his own weakness thrown back at him sparks an age-old defensiveness every time, like a cat backed into a corner. He sort of wants to snarl.
“The girls need a master present.” He grits out instead between clenched teeth. Olurggio sighs, looking worn already, drags a hand down his face. “I’ll watch ‘em. I’m basically their master already.” He makes a shoo-ing motion. “Go off to bed before they start worryin’.” It's a bit lowbrow to bring them into this, but Qifrey can’t argue it, no matter how much his skin is prickling with desire to fight back. He sniffles against the back of his hand again instead of replying, starting to stumble his way upstairs to his chambers. Olruggio’s shoulders are tense as he passes, and his eyes look even more tired than normal, even though he doesn’t have any upcoming deadlines that he’s heard about. Not that he's been a good listener these past few days.
••●━━━ 𖤓 ━━━●••
His room is dark when he wakes up. Intentionally, surely, because he had been too tired to bother closing his own blinds when he collapsed against his bed, had fallen asleep with his head buried into the pillow to try to drown the light out. There’s only one person that would be in here, so he squints against the dark shapes, ignoring the way it makes him ache, and can vaguely make out a dark robe.
Olruggio must be focused, or else he would’ve noticed. Qifrey takes his time getting up, for no reason relating to the way the world spins and heady pressure shifts in his face, tries to study Olruggio. There's the faint scratching of a quill, and Oruggio's posture seems stiffer than usual, like he's focused. Once Olruggio sniffles a few times, unconsciously, because his nose has started running since he lifted his head up, Olruggio looks up at him.
“Mornin’.” He says, voice soft like he knows. “Want a light on?” Qifrey feels his face pull into a frown. “Why not just open the blinds? Natural light is always better.” According to Beldaruit, anyway, who liked to preach on the importance of nature at random turns. Olruggio opens his mouth, then shakes his head like he’s thinking better of something. “It’s the middle of the night, Qifrey.” Is all he says, quill taping an anxious rhythm against his paper.
Qifrey sits up in a frantic motion, almost tipping over in the process. He has to grip the sheets hard and pant for a second, the whole world consisting of spinning shapes and his heartbeat in his skull. He sniffles again, uselessly, and Olruggio shifts around for a moment before handing him a grey handkerchief.
The gentle touch of fabric against his nose sets him off almost immediately. He barely has time to take in a breath before twitching. “ ‘dszhh-!” The shifting of congestion in his nose makes the itch reignite before he manages to catch his breath. He watches Oruggio's gaze as his breath wavers, on the edge, until he's finally set free. “ ‘dSZh - eH’dTZh!” thick and so unlike his usual sneezes, they hurt his throat.
“Bless.” Qifrey hums in response. He doesn’t trust his ability to talk. He's sick of this song and dance with Olruggio. Tired of pretending, tired of everything. He's exhausted, aching, and feels trapped in this room.
“You’ve got a fever.” Oruggio says, startling him out of his fervor. His hands are gripped in the sheets, handkerchief still in hand. He avoids Olruggio’s eyes. “Nothin’ bad, you’re not too warm.” Qifrey sniffles again, pathetically, clears his throat into his shoulder. He’s so foggy-minded. “Okay.” he murmurs. “Thank you, Olruggio.”
Olruggio doesn’t say anything, for a few minutes. Long enough that Qifrey nearly starts nodding off, lulled to sleep by rhythmic noises of anxiety. His quill never stops its tapping, probably bleeding through the paper and onto his sheets. Neither of them mention it.
“Can I just take care of you, for once?” Qifrey finally meets his eyes, through his half closed eyes. He looks more ragged than usual, accentuated by the dark shadows of his room. Qifrey wants to ask him when he last got a good night's rest, when his next commissions are due, when the last time he checked up on the girls is. Wants to ask if Richeh ate much dinner, if Tetia is too hyper without enough to do today, if Aggott even looked up from her studies once. He does none of this.
Instead, he sighs. “Will you take no for an answer?” he tries, to Olruggio's scoff. “Do you ever?” Qifrey can’t help but feel a little guilty at that, sinking back into the bed sheets with flushed cheeks. Olruggio stands, groaning, like he had been sitting there for a while. He shuffles across Qifrey’s room to his desk, full of books and scattered sheets of paper. There’s a bowl on it, and Olruggio takes it before returning to his chair heavily. He reaches out the bowl, full of cool oatmeal, until Qifrey begrudgingly takes it, is slow to release it like he is worried Qifrey will drop it. It lays heavy in his lap. He sets it aside, despite Olruggio's look, and neither of them mention it.
Olruggio shuffles around a little more and pulls a few snugstones out of his pocket. He sets them around Qifery’s form in the blanket, and they’re too warm, but he doesn’t have the heart to say anything with Olruggio’s thoughtfulness. He closes his eyes, too tired to keep whatever it is they have going, and lifts a corner of the blanket. “Come in here, then. You look tired.”
Olruggio gives him a long look, and Qifrey’s worried the fever got to him for a second. But then he stands from his chair, slides into bed without complaint. Their bodies are so close, and wife's aflame. He falls asleep burning.
••●━━━ 𖤓 ━━━●••
Qifrey feels disoriented when he wakes up. He can’t find anything that could have startled him awake, and he hadn’t had a nightmare. He stares at the dark ceiling for a few moments, trying to get his bearings, until he’s startled by a sudden “ ‘rSZCHh!”, and the previous hours start to drift back to him.
“Bless you..” Qifrey murmurs, voice surprisingly present. He must have passed the worst of it, finally. “Are you okay?”
Olruggio makes a thick, snuffling sound somewhere to his left. The bed is still warm, so he must have just gotten up. “Yeah,” he says, and then it’s quiet for a few moments until the floor creaks with his return. “I didn’t mean to wake ya.” He says, voice more rasped then it usually is when he wakes up, nuzzling back into Qifrey. He falls back asleep quickly, but he tosses and turns uncharacteristically. It eats at Qifrey, keeps him awake.
It’s likely sometime after sunrise when Olruggio starts to stir again. He never really settled, and at some point Qifrey stopped trying to help him for fear of waking him up, so his limbs are knotted in the quilts. He doesn’t seem to notice, blinking slowly at Qifrey. “Good morning,” he tries, with a smile. Olruggio doesn’t say anything, just buries his head back against Qifrey’s chest and takes a slow, congested breath through his nose. Qifrey’s heart hurts.
They stay like that for a while. Qifrey doesn’t want to move him, but his nose starts to itch at some point, and despite his fight he ends up jostling him with a sharp movement. “h’TShh-! ‘tSZhih!”
Olly startles up, probably having been half asleep. Qifrey wants to apologize, but his nose isn’t satisfied, so he holds a placating hand and shields his mouth against his other one as he sneezes once again. Finally, he falls back against the pillow, pushing Olruggio back against his chest with a gentle hand. Olruggio doesn’t say anything for a long while, and when he does speak it's rough and painful sounding.
“I think we’ll both be stuck in here for awhile,” he says, and there’s nothing saying he’s mad at Qifrey for it but he can’t help but feel so guilty, especially when Olruggio’s so busy. “Somebody’s got to tell the girls.” Qifrey hums, allows himself the pleasure of running one brief hand through Olruggio’s messed up hair.
“I’ll do it.” He says, without making any move to get up. “I think I may be better off than you are, now.” Olruggio huffs at that. He doesn’t want to move, feeling kind of like Olruggio is a cat that won’t come back if he moves even the slightest bit. But he can hear birds, faintly, and the floor above him is starting to creak with life as his girls start to stir. No matter what he wants, he can’t leave them entirely alone.
So he gets up, and Olruggio watches him leave with droopy eyes, and he smiles at the girls as they trickle in, passing off his own stuffiness as just a bit of allergies. When he serves their bowls, he finds himself suddenly famished, so he ends up scarfing down a bowl in the kitchen while they eat in the other room. Their quiet chatter is so warm, but the light in the kitchen spills out from the windows. His head aches. He has to bid his girls farewell, instructing them to learn on their own for a second day, and return to his room with an orange and paring knife.
Olruggio makes no move to sit up from where he’s sprawled out in his absence, so he sits himself at the edge of the bed. “Are they doing alright?” He mumbles into the bedsheets. “Of course,” he replies, choosing not to tease him for his worrying this time. “They’re a bit concerned, though.” Olruggio hums. “Too smart for their own good.”
Qifrey has to stifle his laugh. “I brought you food,” he says, holding up the orange even though Olruggio can’t see it. Fruit doesn’t count as a meal, really, but Olruggio tends to get upset stomachs when he doesn’t feel well, so he’s hoping it's good enough. Olly groans into the mattress, but he eventually shifts around until he’s sort of sitting up. His face looks pinched, and it isn’t long before he’s muffling a heavy sneeze into his elbow. “ h’rRSZhh-iuh!”
“Bless you,” Qifrey says, and Olruggio makes a lazy flapping motion with his free hand before gasping again. “ ‘rRSCHhh’iuh!”
“Bless you,” Qifrey says again, because he can’t help it. Olruggio’s face is flushed when he comes up, expression still pinched looking. He grumbles something inaudible. Qifrey hands him slices of fruit as a peace offering. Olruggio takes it with a steady hand, holds it hesitatingly near his mouth before starting to eat. Qifrey feeds him slices until he eats them all.
Happy new year to all coldfuckers messfuckers and snotfuckers💛💛
They were at the New Year's Eve party. A was a pretty girl, obviously sick and with a big nose, and B was a guy in love with her nose. They had known each other for a while, and they'd danced together all the time, and after midnight they'd lingered a bit, chatting, sitting on the stairs. They'd both been drinking a lot, and he jokingly lay down on her lap, so he could look down at her nose. It was beautiful as she spoke, and he could see her nose move slightly. Her wide nostrils, despite her makeup, were visibly chapped, and A was trying her hardest not to blow her nose, and since the beginning of the evening she'd managed by sniffling with all her might, holding back all her snot, and even pressing one nostril or the other with a finger to better suck the mucus into the other. But it kept getting louder, her voice was really stuffy, and now, instead of sucking, she could only keep it from gushing out with congested, stuffy sounds, or by pulling back her head and the tip of her nose.
He enjoyed the show from below, finding it extremely sexy, and the most attractive thing was that A, usually so well-mannered, out of familiarity made the most disgusting amount of snotty noises while continuing to talk happily because of the beautiful moment together. Every time she lowered her head to look at him, the snot was flowing down to the brim of both her nostrils and then was immediately sucked back in with a wet gurgle. And B wanted to touch those yellow, slimy drops...
Until the umpteenth time A tried to sniffle, the snot was so close to coming out of her nostrils that all she could manage was a slushy sound, and two long strings finally began to drip. Then A blushed violently: *SNRGK! oh God, do you have a tissue? And B: too late...
And he kissed her on the mouth, tasting the alcohol, and the warm mess between their lips, and then he kissed her snotty nostrils and the tip of her bulbous nose, squeezing it: two small yellowish bubbles emerged. Then they separated, between A's nose and her upper lip, on the irritated skin were two thick, snotty trails, and she wiped them away with her hand.
A: *SRKK... I thihk you'll wake up with a full dose toborrow, too. B: Only if you blow it for me. A: I doh't think so, you bust feel like I did the whole evedihg, I haveh't tissues ahd I'b feeling like a bucus factory... *SNRGKK
And she showed her hand, shiny with her gooey snot. A: do you waht to be clogged with all that sdot like be? B: I can't wait. A: So let's give it the fidal blow.
She sneezed loudly in her messy hand and without cleaning her face kissed him, starting the new year lovingly, snottily, and germily.
person with a cold (or bad allergies) completely defeated by a headache… they make camp of the nearest seat, bundled in a blanket with a cold compress against their temple.
the cold feels like the only measure left to stave off the pain, but before long they begin to shiver. they push through the trembles with closed eyes and a wrinkle between furrowed brows.
the ice sends their sensitive nose running. subdued by the ache, they stay in place, unwilling to move even for a handful of tissues. perhaps they switch hands to trade off the burden of numb fingers, leaving the other to swipe clumsily beneath their nostrils.
soon, their knuckles are wet, fingers messy and shaking. what are they to do besides resort to using the blanket? especially once a dreaded inhale builds alongside the tickle in their nose… they are too shaky to override the breath that sends them into a series of desperate, soaking sneezes
You're hosting a Halloween party that packs your house full. You're proud of your spooky decors, decked out with things like spider webs, blacklights and a fog machine. The doorbell rings and you open it to see someone you were waiting for. She's always the life of the party so you hoped she would make it tonight. She's dressed in a classic sexy nurse costume which you think isn't very creative, but it's ironic because
She has an obvious cold and she confirms it for you by sharing 3 drenching sneezes with your face. Her sniffling bright red nose itself looks contagious and she looks like should be in bed. But she's ready to party, so the "little cold" she apologizes for didn't stop her from coming. All night she acts like the extrovert she is despite being obviously cold ridden. She sips strangers and friends' drinks and leans in close to talk but most importantly she sneezes. A lot.
She doesn't have time to react to her unexpected sneezes, so the visible sprays coat anyone within 3 feet of her nose. The rest of the uncovered droplets go in the air. The contagious mist mixes with the fog machine and floats to other partygoers. Trick or treat! But instead of candy, it's germs from the sneeziest cold you ever saw. With all the sneezing she does you know everyone there is taking home a serving of her germs along with their candy. You wouldn't be surprised if at least 1/2 the guests wake up with sneezing noses soon. That red nosed nurse isn't treating people's colds, she started them instead.
More boyfriend and my sneeze kink + his newfound slight sneeze kink
so almost a week after the previous event i talked about after he found out i had the kink, he got a cold. AND I MEAN THIS AS AN AVID COLDFUCKER, THE SNEEZIEST FUCKING COLD EVER. so heres some timeline of events
CW-CONTAGION MENTION
Wednesday, he comes to my house to hangout after class, is sniffling a bit and coughing a bit. By the time i'm driving him home, he's blowing his nose every few minutes and complaining that he can't breathe right. Made out and kissed like usual all day + i unknowingly gave him hickeys directly on where he had been sneezing on himself all day (his chest)
Thursday, he is over my place again and is complaining that he feels a lot worse. Stuffed up nose, his nose is red as hell, sniffling, coughing, tired, and now sneezing every few minutes. He makes absolutely ZERO attempts to cover and basically just pitches his head down towards his lap OR JUST MY TITS. Fell asleep cuddling with me in my bed. Insisted on making out with me, even though he had to stop to sneeze TWICE.
Friday, over his place for a grad party. He is a mess. His nose is absolutely, completely red and stuffed up. He's coughing harshly and every time he laughs, he coughs. He's sneezing every two seconds and blowing his nose constantly. Is so unhygienic too, tossing heavily used tissues literally everywhere and coughing into his sleeve. As well as sneezing openly. Also even more exhausted, as he fell asleep on my shoulder on the way home. He still insisted on kissing me and trying to make out with me and saying "it's just a cold! i'm fine!" (more like "id's just a cold-! i'mb fide!")
Saturday(today), feels the same as Friday. We didn't hang out today. Still coughing horribly, and blowing his nose every few minutes and absolutely soaking the tissues. Also still sneezing everywhere but a bit less tired.
Meanwhile- me on Saturday morning (this morning), woke up with a sore throat, hurts to swallow. Have a runny nose and am sneezing myself. Also definitely was having fever dreams last night and woke up sweaty as hell. I yelled at him for getting me sick but all he had to say was "You like that anyways."
more contagion clinic thing
1 (A) well person put in a room of 3(B, C & D) sickies and 1 box of tissues
A is surrounded on all sides, with the tissue box in their lap while B, C & D cuddle up to them. Snuffling, snorting, and wiping their drippy noses into A untill one of them (or more) start to snz.
A is getting sprayed on all angles, mess dripping and splattering on them. Everywhere they turn they see a red twitchy runny nose and a desperate presnz face ready to release.
A barely has any sense to use the tissue box
hi so i am such a huge fan of your wavs your voice is so hot and your snzs are amazing. i am begging pretty pretty plz could you do a wav where you talk in detail about how you caught a cold from someone else?? thank you thank you!!!
Hi, Anon! Thank you for your kind message; I am blushing! Here's a special wav for this. I hope you like it!
POV: You sit next to me somewhere public (public transportation, in a meeting at work, etc.), and I warn you not to sit next to me because I've caught a very contagious Spring cold.
Hello how are you doing today! I wish that you are very well! May you please record about when your contagious/infectious with the head cold and are doing much sneezing at the coffee/Caffè? ☕️And are not being conscious with the many contagions spreading out so the people near by will have no difficulty to catch the head cold from your nose? 🤧 Maybe this is to be the shopper afflicted with the head cold and your letting go in the open air maybe sneezing them on the others? However if you may choose recording when your acting as the barrista who is to feel sick with a head cold who desires very much to spread the sneezing viruses with each shopper this would be THE BEST EVER! This is okay if you can not because I do find your recordings to be superb with any topic! 😄 🤧 😷🤒 Thank you very much for giving the audios! I believe that yours are the best ever heard! The audios about when you are being with the head colds are perfection!
I am apologizing for the large message! It is difficult to correctly expand to you in English my thoughts thus I hope I am making sense in it! You may know you have many fans in all languages! 😁
Hello, Anon! I actually had a really good day today, and I hope you've been having good days, too. Your kind words have seriously made me smile so often. One of the reasons I've held onto this ask was because you're so sweet, and I wanted to re-read your message again and again, grazie! 💕🥰
I'm not necessarily skilled with ambient sounds (and I personally find they detract from my interest/pleasure when I'm a listener), so I made this with just me, no ambience. I hope you still like it -- please let me know! 💕
POV: You're in a café, and I'm a barista behind the counter with a horribly wet, soupy, contagious cold. I am not covering, which leads to me sneezing all over the counter, the drinks, and even a customer (is it you?)~ 😘
Just wanted to write something super self-indulgent with minimal plot.
CW: This fic includes detailed contagion! It’s gross and I spare no details — we’re talking snot strings and things of that nature. If you’re not into that, absolutely do NOT begin reading this or you’ll have a very unpleasant time. If you do, however, like contagion and messy sneezes, I hope you enjoy this 😊
Part one is just set up, but I plan to continue it with Evan spreading his germs everywhere (unintentionally).
Here are the links to all parts:
Part two Part Three Part Four
***
Part One
It’s a sneeze — a single sneeze. A simple bodily function. There’s nothing intrinsically bad about a sneeze.
These words run through Evan’s mind as he picks at his cuticle while his eyes dart to the man across from him. The elevator’s been stuck for several minutes already and there’s an unease settling in Evan’s stomach as he looks at this man. They’d walked on together, smiling awkwardly the way two strangers tend to do. Then the man had immediately snapped forward in an uncovered sneeze.
It’s probably allergies.
This is a rational thought to have, Evan thought. It is March. There’s definitely pollen in March. But then the elevator got stuck and the man started letting out chest rattling coughs.
So he’s definitely sick. But maybe he’s not contagious? It could just be a lingering illness — one of those that hang on for weeks but are no longer as easily transmissible to other people.
“I’m sor — heh — sorry — HHHH! I woke up with an awful c—hh heh! — cuuhhhh hh — cold. HH hh hhhhh HH! I’ve been sneezing all — heeh hehhhh — day,” the man says in a trembling voice before reaching up to rub his reddened, swollen nose. It makes a horribly audible squelching sound.
Evan reaches for strength somewhere deep within to will himself not to wince as he stares at the man. Evan has seen him around the college before, and is pretty sure he’s an instructor, though he doesn’t know the subject he teaches. He has dark skin, looks to be in his early-mid thirties and most notably — he’s tall; Evan would estimate him to be somewhere around 6’5. He has a nice build — muscles visible through his tight long sleeved shirt. His silver eyebrow piercing glints under the elevator’s dim lights. On any other day, Evan would find him to be attractive — exceptionally so. It’s clear, however, that Evan is not seeing this man at his best.
“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Evan says, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He would rather this guy didn’t talk — that he didn’t do anything that could result in more droplets entering the air they’re sharing. Can talking spread droplets? He imagines they probably can.
“I thought it was allergies yesterday, but I woke up today and I —” He breaks off coughing, holding a fist out weakly. Evan can hear the phlegm rattling around in the man’s chest, and again he has to suppress a wince.
“Sounds rough,” Evan says, giving a strained smile as he taps his fingers against his thigh. This elevator usually only stays stuck for a few minutes. He can last a few minutes without catching something off this man, surely. Maybe the germs from that first uncovered sneeze won't take.
“I probably shouldn’t have come in today,” the man says, shooting Evan a smile that would probably be charming if it weren’t for how tired it looks. “But I didn’t realize how bad this bug was going to be. I don’t think I’ve ever sneezed so much in my life,” he says, sniffling thickly. “And my nose is running non-stop. It’s a faucet. I’m not exaggerating —I’ve gone through an entire box of tissues already.”
With these words, Evan finds himself suddenly regretting his choice to go back to school for a second Bachelor’s. Yes, his creative writing degree has been practically useless for the six years he’s had it, and yes, he does want to pursue psychology and therefore needs to continue his education. But, right now, that all seems unimportant as he looks at the sniffling man, whose breaths are beginning to hitch again.
Maybe the sneezes are stuck? Like this damn elevator. Please, please, please stay stuck until I can get off this thing, he thinks to himself while digging his nails into his palm.
“I hate this elevator,” the man says, giving a nervous chuckle. Evan suppresses a groan as he realizes this man is clearly one of those people who are incapable of sitting —or in this case standing — in silence. “Breaks down almost every day. I don’t even know why I risk taking it, anymore,” he says, giving another thick, slurpy sniffle. By the way the man scrunches his nose and closes his eyes, Evan suspects the sniffle produced a particularly intense tickle.
“Yeah, I get stuck on it probably once a week,” Evan says, giving another strained smile.
“You’d think someone would do something about — heehhh —” The man trails off, his eyelids fluttering.
Evan can see the man’s glistening nostrils begin to flare.
“Do you — do you happen to have a ti — hih — tihih — tihiiiihhhissue?” the man asks, his voice shaking.
“A tissue? Sorry, wish I did, but no,” Evan says.
He truly does wish he had a tissue because this man’s going to sneeze. Not only is this man going to sneeze, it’s going to be a messy sneeze. Rarely does Evan know something with such certainty, but this is one of those times. This man’s sniffles aren’t the soft kind that can be taken care of with a soft blow. They’re desperate sniffles — the “holding back an entire tide of mucus” type.
It will be fine as long as this elevator starts up soon. He needs it to start back up soon, then he can walk off and go home and everything will be fine and —
“HhH—hHRGG’sschhHHHHEEW!!!”
Evan closes his eyes and holds his breath. He slowly opens his eyes, reluctant to see the inevitable aftermath of the absurdly loud and forceful sounding sneeze. Evan’s shoulders relax, though, as he sees the man lower his arm. He’d clearly managed to cover. There’s an obvious wet spot on the man’s sleeve, but still, it was contained. Evan lets himself breathe. That first, uncovered sneeze when they’d walked in must have been a fluke. This man is clearly polite and understands the value of keeping germs to himself.
Evan allows himself to smile sympathetically as he looks at the man and gives a polite “bless you.”
“Thanks,” the man says with another tired smile and thick sniffle. “Like I said — all day. I don’t think I’ve ever been sick like this. It’s just sneeze after sneeze. I’m sure my students must have been tired of blessing me. I can’t wait to just go home and sleep this thing off. If only this elevator would HH’REEHH’TSHOOO! HRR AHHHH-T’SHOOOO!”
Evan remembers seeing something on the news once about the amount of distance a sneeze can travel and how many droplets a single sneeze can potentially contain. It was something like 20 feet and thirty-thousand droplets. While this was distressing information, it hadn’t exactly been believable to Evan. People sneeze all the time. He sneezes everyday and it certainly doesn’t seem like sneezes can be that powerful. So, he’d frowned at the information, but ultimately moved on, mostly forgetting it.
This information now, however, crawls along back to the surface of Evan’s mind as the stranger blasts him with sneezes that can only be described as soaking wet.
They erupted from the man with absolutely no warning and through the harsh lighting of the elevator, Evan can nearly see each and every droplet — some fine, some large and clearly mixed with thick mucus. With only six feet between them — at best — Evan can now believe without any doubt that sneezes can, indeed, contain thirty-thousand droplets.
And he’s just been hit with two sneezes full of them — entirely unrestrained.
Evan wants to wipe himself off, but he doesn’t know how. Every exposed part of him has been doused in infectious spray — his neck, his hands, his face…. He decides he can at least wipe off his lips, so he finds a dry spot of his hand before bringing it up to his mouth.
The man’s head is still bent forward, which seems to be a poor decision because his nose is dripping terribly. Evan watches in something of a morbid type of fascination as the droplets hit the elevator floor before the stranger gives a thick sniff and looks back up at Evan.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his expression looking genuinely apologetic, though there’s also something about it that’s decidedly sneezy. His nostrils begin to flare again, but this time he brings a hand up before snapping forward.
Evan grimaces as the contents of the man’s nose pour out into the man’s hand in thick, visible strings. To the guy’s credit, he does try to contain it, but the sheer amount makes it impossible. He presses his hand firmly against his nose, but Evan can see moisture seeping through the cracks of his fingers. Evan is certain he's never come close to seeing someone lose control of the contents of their nose in such a dramatic way. Usually adults have a handle on containing the more unpleasant aspects head colds usually bring, but clearly this specific virus is a special case.
Evan averts his eyes because the situation is gross beyond description, but also, this must be the most mortifying moment of this stranger’s life and he doesn’t need someone staring at him.
Evan feels his own cheeks heat in embarrassment for the man.
Mostly, though, Evan is consumed by apprehension. There’s no possible way he can expect his body to fend off the innumerable germs that are surely trying to invade him right at this moment. Even if it could fight off some of them, there’s far too many to hope he can escape them all.
Evan is surprised to find a sort of peace in accepting this as fact. There’s nothing to be done now. He is coated in germ-infested spray, so he’s going to get sick. In the same way he can’t change how tall he is, he also can’t change this. In a few days time, he’s going to come down with this absolutely monstrous looking cold because it’s as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning.
@sicklyfruit was so generous as to let me borrow Sasha again, so he has been requisitioned for more snzfucker shenanigans :3c
Mild nsfw (they're in between fucking), induced, intentional contagion, Florence's general nastiness towards other human beings. 2.1k
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She's lounged on his bed in nothing but the bathrobe she stole out of his closet, still sweaty in a way she can't blame entirely on the way they put eachother through their paces. She slowly exhales the smoke from her cigarette, her legs stretched across his lap. "Hey."
"What?"
At some point he'd grabbed a pair of boxers, leaving them both at least semi-clothed. "Go get me water."
"You've got legs, go get it yourself."
She huffs, leans harder against him. "Why are you such a bitch? Don't you know how to treat a lady?"
"If you wanna be treated nicely, maybe you should do something to deserve it."
"I am very deserving of it. I treat you well. Better than you deserve, even."
"Yeah, okay."
"I am a highly generous woman."
"Name one thing you've ever given me."
She looks him directly in the eyes, rolls over to straddle him and loop her arms around his neck. "This cold."
She knows she's hit her mark, because he doesn't even respond for a second, just stares at her in surprise--and something else. "What?"
"Oh yeah."
"You didn't say you were sick."
She leans in to whisper in his ear. "My little surprise for you to enjoy. It hasn't hit yet, just a little sniffly and throat sore, but it will. And then it'll hit you, too."
"You're lying."
"You think I would lie to you?" He snorts in response, so she pre-empts his actual reply with a sniffle that's barely liquidy at the edges--but is liquid nonetheless. "This is all yours in a couple of days."
"You're such a bitch." He doesn't seem mad at all, though--and she knows he isn't. She can see the flush on his cheeks, the fact that he's already grabbing the collar of the robe to pull it open and kiss her shoulder. "How do I know I've caught it? We might not've guaranteed it."
"Oh? You don't think I did a good enough job the first time?"
"It would be a shame to make me a promise like this that you couldn't keep."
"Then I guess you should beg, because I was already generous the first time. Why should I give you another chance?"
"I'd never beg. I'll just command you."
She laughs, pushes him down against the bed. "Why would I ever respect your authority?"
He whines. "What will it take, then?"
"I'll be good to you, just this once." She lets her fingers brush through his curls, not quite as wild as her own but threatening to encroach on his face nonetheless. "If you want this cold, you'll have to work for it."
"What do you have in mind?" He already knows what she's implying, reaching back on the nightstand to grab the box of tissues, and rolls one into a tight point.
"You've got a beautiful opportunity here--you've just got to take it."
It's more of a challenge than it is for him--she swears she just thinks too hard about touching his nose and it has him sneezing, those desperate, fittish things that tumble out of him like they're stacked on top of one another. Her nose is more temperamental, requiring a lot more coaxing and effort to actually make any real difference.
"Switch me positions."
"No. I wanna be over you."
He doesn't fight her on it at all, just cups her cheek in one hand to hold her steady as he carefully brings to tissue to her nose. She scrunches it in discomfort, the feeling not really ticklish so much as annoying.
"Stop moving."
"It's not my fault you're not doing a good job."
She tries to hold still nonetheless, closing her eyes to focus solely on the sensation of the point carefully worming its way deeper into her nose, trying to find the spot that will actually produce some results here.
"You know Elliott gave this to me."
"Fuck, yeah. He looked horrible when I saw him last week."
"You know he's never been good at keeping anything to himself. He--hh-!--ugh, fuck--he was so apologetic about it, but I don't know how sorry he can really be if he's never any better about it."
"Stop moving, you're making this more difficult."
She begrudgingly acquiesces, letting him hold her face more steadily. She takes a shaky gasp when the tissue prods deeply into the back of her nose, and it heaves her (meager) chest with the effort of a false start that goes nowhere. She scrunches her nose hard in response, trying to do something to actually make it do something in there.
"Your nose is such a fucking drama queen." He huffs when he twists a new corner into a point, the previous one now too sodden to really do anything of consequence.
"Yeah, well--snf!--you're in direct control of the amount of my cold you're getting here. I'm not kissing you just to give it to you--you've gotta tease it out, or you're not getting anything."
She pushes his hands away just long enough to pull her hair back into a ponytail, to keep the curls out of her face so he can have clear access--and so it stops distracting her from the potential sneeze.
The tissue reacquaints itself with the back of her nose, and she lets her jaw fall slack as the feeling mounts. "Hh...hh-! ...ugh." She sniffs again, but he's got enough sense this time not to move the tissue away. He's lamented, before, that he would prefer to use something like a clothes tag so that it doesn't get too wet and limp to actually be of any use. But, unfortunately for them both, it's never been as good at actually teasing something out the way the tissues are.
He finally seems to be on the right track--and his efforts are rewarded, even minimally as it is. "Hh-! 'chu!" It's a soft and breathy thing, but it's more than she usually gets. He knows he's got her in the right space if he can keep going, and doesn't pause to give it a chance to start dying out.
"Hh...h-hH! 'chu!" Ugh, fuck. It scratches that itch a little, but her nose is buzzing now with the need to sneeze, and he's hardly doing a thing about it. It SUCKS how hard her nose makes her fight for it, but unless he wants to drag her sorry ass down to the local pool in the fall when it's closed, or pay to go to whichever local gym's got one, he's stuck with trying to induce it himself if he wants any results.
Her brows pinch together when he manages to jab at some spot that draws an involuntary gasp and a snarl of irritation at the feeling. "Hh'CHyuu! Hih'GSchyu!"
She doesn't open her eyes, but she can feel that he's clearly enjoying this by the way he squirms a little underneath her, her palms flat against the mattress on either side of his head and practically locking him in place.
She can imagine the view he's got--she's induced in front of a mirror before for him and for Rhoda. The flare of pretty pink nostrils, damp from the way her nose is being teased. The way she wrinkles it against the feeling, making the tip scrunch from side to side with the effort. The way the freckles that adorn it are slowly getting more difficult to see, blending into the pink that's creeping into it the longer he's at this.
And him, laying beneath her and taking the brunt of it all. He occasionally makes a show of complaining, if only because Sasha is incapable of doing anything without complaining. She knows if she offered to swap the positions around some, he'd adamantly refuse. He wants to be here, he just also wants to piss and moan like a little bitch.
"Hh-! ...ugh! Can't you do anything right?"
"It's not my fucking fault that the only thing that works for you doesn't last long."
"Yeah, well, neither do you, so I guess you've got something in common with that tissue: wet and useless."
He scoffs, but when she cracks her eyes open halfway she can see how hard he's blushing as he rolls another corner into a point.
Clearly he's feeling like a brat, because he takes his sweet time actually negotiating the point back to where it was starting to do some damage, leaving her in hitchy, miserable limbo of false starts and an itch that's actually getting uncomfortable without any relief.
"What are you doing, taking your pet tissue for a walk? Do something."
"Oh, I'm sorry, you know how I am. Useless. I'm trying but, you know me: can't do anything right!"
She braces herself on one hand, using the other to grab Sasha's wrist like a vise and forces it back into position--
" 'GSChyuu! Hh--hH'GSSHhyue!"
She can feel the spray on her hand, and grimaces as she wipes it off on his boxers.
"Toy with me again and I'll just go do this in the bathroom without you. Do I make myself clear?"
Those dark eyes are locked on hers when she leans down so they're practically nose to nose. "Yes, sir."
She sniffs sharply. "Then get to it before I change my mind and my patience and generosity to share run out. I haven't got all day."
It's a lie, of course. She doesn't have anything going on all day--and they both know she's going to be spending it with him, no matter his behavior right now. But the posturing is all a part of the game.
"God, you're so hot like this."
Her voice falters as she feels him honing back in on that sweet spot. "I'm always hot."
"Shut up."
It actually earns a whine from her when he finds his mark, so tantalizingly close to making her sneeze. She can't do anything else but to hitch, and she hates how precious and girlish it comes out. She's hardly a delicate or girly person--she's a woman, sure, but not a girl in any meaningful way--and certainly not a lady. It's embarrassing that this aspect of her is so infuriatingly delicate in comparison to the rest of her.
So perhaps she's overcompensating when she rarely bothers to cover, when she refuses to stifle it in any way--after all, she always has to work damn hard for it to happen in the first place--when she swipes a hand beneath blushed nostrils as if she dares anyone to challenge her on it.
" 'GSCHyue! Hh'GSCHyue!" She freezes, hanging on the precipice of a third, and she's absolutely not letting this one get away from her, not when she's so close to meaningfully scratching that itch. She makes a grab for his hand again, but he's quick enough to catch her drift before she actually makes contact with him. He shoves the tissue in further, and she curls in on herself with it before she can do anything else. "HihGSSHhyue! 'GSCHue! Hh-! HH-! Hih'GZZHhyue!"
She whines as she pushes his hand away, the bedraggled tissue still clutched so hard his knuckles are whitened from it, and goes to paw at her nose. It makes that gross, wet clicking sound as she rubs hard at it, abusing her skin with how roughly she's scrubbing back and forth, and sits up, still straddling his waist.
"Oh my God...bless you..."
It leaves a dark streak on the sleeve of his robe where she uses it to mop up the trickle of thin liquid. "Fuck off."
He doesn't, he just takes hold of the open collar of the robe and pulls her closer by it, practically tries to climb under her skin with how hungry he is when he kisses her. She pulls away just to try and take a breath, the congestion settling in enough to make it difficult to balance breathing and Sasha's apparent approval over their little performance.
"Are you satisfied you're catching this now?"
He's already shrugging the robe off of her shoulders, his teeth ghosting over the skin it bares as the fabric falls away. "I can think of ways we can guarantee it."
She runs her fingers over the scars that across his chest, the robe pooled around her elbows like some luxurious evening wrap instead of some cheap thing he got off a Target clearance rack. "Get me another tissue, then. I'm still itchy, and you're not allowed to start a job without finishing it."
He's grinning like a fool as he grabs the box off his nightstand. "Yes, sir."
Ambrose came to help Edwin with his cold, as always. The drawing where he was suffering alone can be found here. And Ambrose's journal entry is below! CW: very NSFW, mention of contagion, discussion of virginity and what counts as sex. Did you think we weren't going to talk about the fact that these are out-of-wedlock gay and trans activities in some vaguely Victorian era? Well so did I, but then inspiration struck.
Edwin and I ought to be credited as great inventors, for we have discovered an innocent sex.
Surely this is intercourse, what I do with Edwin. To rest abed with him. To entwine ourselves so completely that we can hardly tell where one begins and ends. To attend to the comfort of his wretched body by physical means - the only means I have of expressing an unspeakable love. To caress a reddened, flaring, pulsing opening until it becomes productive. To feel his humors enter me and seed something feverish that will grow and blossom in my body and eventually need to be nursed. To hear him moan and cry out in greater and greater complaint and then finally spasm with relief!
And it affects me how intercourse would do! I cannot think - my mind is a white sphere of fire that sits between my loins, not in my head at all. His every snuffling, miserable sound inflames me, calling me to attention. My heart thrums under the exertion of a constantly escalating urgency. I squirm and writhe and press into him as if possessed - for he possesses me, wholly. I press and press until…oh…Oh, how I debauch myself on his account!
Yet I have never felt so wholesome, so clean. Never have I kissed him beyond a tender, lingering peck. Never has he complained that I don't carry what most men carry between their legs. Never has my hand strayed below his waist. That equipment is quite irrelevant to us. We are as virginal as two angels - clothed, touching only cheek to cheek and hand to nose and cradling each other, and yet I find myself in ecstasy again and again. He can't stop sneezing, and I can't stop these flushed explosions of heavenly feelings. I counted at least ten combustions last night for myself, and my dear Edwin found himself wanting fresh trousers more than once. Of course, then he had to get out of bed, and chilled, and took to sneezing again, and the whole affair began anew.
Ought we to be married before we do such things? If so, my conscience has not noticed. Perhaps it's that I feel married to him already. Never has a marriage been more surely consummated than his reliance on me has been. This strange relationship of caretaker and invalid…it is a wedded thing, to be sure.
Even if it weren't…my Edwin needs me. I would not stop nursing him for all the world, and that's the truth.
(aka my horny brain for kiribakuraka so lets get started…also MESS WARNING)
Bakugou and Kirishima catching a nasty cold, and oh boy is it horrendous the amount of tissues they’d go through. I just love the though of Ochako teasing her boys about it saying things to them like.
“You’re making such a mess”
“sounds like someone needs a tissue”
“those sounded messy”
Of course the three of them are contagion sluts and don’t exactly care about sharing germs so when the both of them have to sneeze or just need a tissue. Ura will help catch Katsuki’s sneezes into a bundle of tissues, and wow that’s a lot of snot already soaking them but meh might as well help Eiji blow his poor nose. Now those tissues are destroyed theroughly and her hands are covered in snot. But does she wipe it on her shorts or with tissues. Nope.
She licks it up with her tongue before, getting between Katsuki and Eijirou and pulling them close.
They’re sniffling wetly into her ears, one male one each side of her. Eijirou rubs his poor itchy nose against her neck whimpering, she moans at the wetness he trails on her skin and his hot breath. While Katsuki starts to feel a tickle in his nose, he sniffles more frequently, and squishes his nose to try and quell it down. Though Ochako stops him “poor baby’s got real a tickle in his nose huh? just let it out sweetheart, I’ve got you.” She turns and pulls down her shirt, she’s facing him now, her cleavage exposed.
His nostrils are flaring widely red around the edges, they’re dripping with thick snot he can hardly sniffle back. She’s biting her lip as she watches his face fill with desperation from this tickle in his nose. Katsuki holds onto her, a little tightly but its not painful. He just really has to sneeze right now.
going to a contagion clinic and getting paired with someone who's desperate to give you their cold.
clinging onto you, nose red and streaming constantly, visibly full of cold too. they tell you to get closer while they build up so they can snz in your face and make sure it lands just right
Asking if you could play with their nose, having you cup your hand under their nose while they let snz after snz fill it with mess
blowing their nose on you
just being near you makes them need to snz bc they're thinking about you catching it
the air is dence with their germs, each breath you take you're breathing it in
you've seen them snz against a mirror or a screen and the amount of spray and mess that comes out it more than you could hope for
someone walking into a clinic probably just for their physical or something. and the only space left to sit in the waiting room is next to a person who's OBVIOUSLY unwell.
they're bundled up in a blanket or coat, Dabbing at their very red streaming nose and haphazardly snzing, sending tuffs of very contagious spray every where and mess dripping down their face.
They try to apologize every so often while the other prays for their turn to be taken back comes faster. But the sick person can barely get through much out between thick wet soppy sniffles, desperate vocal hitches and heavy body shaking snzs.
You're laying with your partner who is down with an awful cold and they're a mess. You're passionately kissing their neck and they're gearing up for a sneeze... or two... or a fit, you don't know.
You hear their hitching and you look up at their flaring nostrils, you can see inside them, and they're stuffed up with snot that you can see moving around as they hitch. You know when these sneezes are released, all that snot is coming out with it...
A Christmas Cold (M/M, 18+ characters, Contagion, Mess)
[My partner’s first story for me from 2 Christmases ago]
_____________
It was the Tuesday before Christmas and Sam was busy stocking the fresh oranges that were previously sold out. It was pretty quiet at the market today, it usually was on weekdays, with only locals coming in to pick up a few supplies and make small talk with the workers. It was about 10 AM and the day was already starting to feel long. As Sam placed the last orange on top of his intricate pyramid of oranges, he reached down to grab the empty crate and saw a pair of winter boots standing in front of it.
“Excuse me?” muttered a soft, clearly stuffed-up voice.
Sam looked up to see a lanky, blonde-haired man, slightly taller than he was, with rosy red cheeks and watery eyes, standing before him.
Sam normally hated interacting with customers, especially since most were older and just wanted to talk when he was trying to work, but suddenly he found himself eager and flustered to help the sick boy.
“What can I help you with?” asked Sam.
“Hi. I’m so sorry to bother you. I’ve been-ehh-SCHIEW!” he paused, made a face, stepped back, and raised his elbow to his nose. He let out a big sneeze, and his eyes watered even more. He looked terrible. “Sorry. Been looking around, but I can’t find any cold medicine around here. I was wondering if you carried it?” he asked, pulling his scarf up and wiping his nose gently.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Sam said, feeling his face grow hot. It was so embarrassing.
He led the other boy toward the small first-aid section of the store, speed-walking at first, then slowing down as he realized the other was struggling to match his pace. Sam pointed to the cold medication. “Here it is. Also, tissues are in the next aisle if you need them.”
He could see the other getting a little embarrassed as Sam noticed his runny nose.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it-” the other said in a stuffed-up voice, then made the same face as before, getting ready to sneeze.
Sam waited in anticipation, and he could tell the other was trying to hide it. As he let out another sneeze, he didn’t raise his elbow quickly enough, sending little droplets from his mouth and nose onto himself and Sam. Sam and the boy both gasped, and Harry blushed even more.
“Oh. No. Oh my gosh, I’m so disgusting.” the sneezing man muttered, setting down his shopping basket and looking around for the exit.
“Oh, honey, no, you’re not. It was an accident. You’re so sick.” Sam instantly felt embarrassed for calling him honey. At least now they were even.
The other one smiled, more tears welling up in his eyes.
“I really hope I don’t get you sick for Christmas,” he said, picking up his shopping basket. Sam noticed the dark stain on his scarf.
“Well, if I am, you’ll just have to come and take care of me, right?” joked Sam.
The other boy smiled. “Could you show me to the bathroom as well?”
Sam locked the bathroom door behind them and got to work dabbing his scarf with paper from the bathroom while the other sat on top of the sink.
“My name is Harry, by the way. It’s nice to-” Harry wound up to sneeze again, and Sam leaned in, hoping Harry’s arm wouldn’t make it to his nose in time. Surprisingly, instead of reaching for his nose, Harry reached out and grabbed Sam, holding onto him and sneezing into the toilet paper he was holding. A string from his nose stuck to the toilet paper as he backed away. Harry sniffled. “Meet you.”
Sam chuckled. “These cough drops are on me,” he said, taking them out of Harry’s basket and stuffing them into the coat he was wearing.
Harry giggled. “Thank you,” he sniffled again. “I should get going. I really don’t feel well. As you can tell. I promise I’ll come back to see you once I don’t look like shit.”
Sam wanted to keep taking care of him more than anything, but decided he should let Harry go before his boss found out where he was.
Harry left the bathroom promptly.
Four days later, it was Christmas Eve. The store was open one last day before Christmas, and Sam was back stocking the produce. No one had come to the store yet. The day before had been packed, everyone getting supplies for their Christmas dinners. That morning, Sam had woken up with a bit of a sore throat that went away as the day went on. However, that night, when he got back to his apartment, he felt unusually tired and went to bed earlier. He smiled to himself that night, all tucked into his bed. He finally caught Harry's cold. He had been anticipating it all week. The past four days he had reserved the memory for when he got home in the afternoon, went straight to his room, and began to touch himself, replaying the scene over and over. Playing out different scenarios where he stopped Harry from leaving the bathroom and leaned in to kiss his chapped lips. What his runny nose would feel like against his. How long could Harry kiss before Harry would have stopped and sniffled?
Sam felt even more miserable when he woke up this morning. His body ached, his head felt stuffy, and his eyes were already dripping. As much as he wanted to call out and spend the day re-binging Gilmore Girls and breaking in between naps to relieve his aching, horny body, he decided to take his chances of meeting Harry in the store again and go to work. And he was glad he did. Harry must have timed it when Sam's sickness was in full effect, because promptly at 12 pm, a familiar face appeared at the door. Sam looked over. Still red in the cheeks, yet much healthier looking, Harry made his way over to the produce section. To Harry's delight, Sam looked perfectly ill, only slightly less than Harry had been a few days ago, but it would kick in later. The poor dark-haired boy's face and nose were even rosier than Harry’s as he labored over the cucumbers, limping slightly. Sam sniffled and looked up at Harry, smiling.
“Oh, poor thing, how long have you been working?” asked Harry, picking up one of the cucumbers he had set down a few minutes back.
Sam was relieved to hear Harry still had a hint of congestion in his voice.
“Just this morning. It got bad only about half an hour ago, though. You're just in time,” Sam said softly in a hoarse voice.
“In time for what, Sam?” asked Harry, stepping closer so he was side by side with Sam, peering over the vegetable display.
“To take me home for Christmas,” he whispered, still not making eye contact with Harry.
Harry felt his pussy throb under his long, wool winter coat.
“I guess Santa did get my request,” he murmured, and moved to the other side of Sam and leaned over to get a good look at his big, watery eyes. “Why don't you be a good boy and tell your boss you have to leave. I'll be waiting out front and keeping the car warm. We can go back to my place or yours. Wherever you feel most comfortable.”
Harry strolled away to the checkout lane, and Sam finished stocking, then made his way to his boss's office.
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