@rain-snz - Tumblr Blog

Mar 11

Homosexual Tendencies (M/etalocalypse, M/M)

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.

“Hh-HH!! HAHHH-!! HUH’RUSHHHHH’UHHH!! ‘WRZSSHH’UHHH!! HAHHDD’TZSHHH’OOOOhhh!!...Oough….”

“Bless you!”

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.

“HHG’TZSSHHHH’UHHHH!! WRZSSHHH’AHHHH!! HUHH’WRZSSSCHHHHh!!”

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.

“HAHHH’GITSSHHH’UHHHHH!! HHdt-!! WRSSSCHHH’OOOOOhhh!!”

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.

“HUUTTSHHHH’OOOOhhhh!! HUHH’RUSSSSHHHHH’UUHHhh!! WRZSSSHHhhh!!”

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.

“Sorry. Won’t take me long.”

Nathan grunted, shaking his head.

“Let me help?”

“Oh.” Pickles stopped, looking pleasantly surprised. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah. Come here.”

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.”

~~~~~

“Hh’ngxt-! Ndt’tsiew! HnGXt’tshiew! nGxtt-! HEH’Ndtsh-! ‘Gxt’shuh!!”

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 –

“HahHG’Tzshh’iew! ‘DZz’shooh! HiG’TshUUu! AtSChh’ooh!!”

“God, Pickles. Bless you.”

“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?”

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