Happy birthday, @bultaoreunheyyy!!!!!! I hope you enjoy this birthday gift and get a lot more on your special day <3
"Please?"
"No."
"Pleeeease?"
"Nooooooo."
"Pleeeeeeeeeee-"
"Prince Taehyung! I am not giving you this cold! It is miserable," Jungkook interrupts with a huff.
"Please, Jungkookie? I really don't want to go to this meeting," Taehyung pleads.
"Why?" Jungkook asks. "You've gone to the others!"
"Because this one is boring," Taehyung grumbles.
"Lieutenant Seojun will kill me if I get you sick." Jungkook's face suddenly crumples. "H...hold on...I...heh...g-gotta...gihh..."
Jungkook lurches forward with a sneeze stifled into silence between his fingers. The power of it shakes the bed and the tip of his nose twitches when he releases his fingers.
"Aww, you're like a little bunny!" Taehyung leans in to kiss the tip of his nose but Jungkook jerks back.
"No. You're not going to kiss me." Jungkook firmly plants his hands on Taehyung's chest.
"Why?" Taehyung whines, pouting at Jungkook.
"Well, firstly, because I'm sick. Second, we are in the barracks and if someone walks in and catches us, it will be terrible."
"Then let me take you to a more comfortable bed. It will make you feel better, and it's more private." Taehyung trails his fingers up Jungkook's torso, underneath his thin sleep shirt. "I could also get you some warmer clothes. You've been shivering for a bit."
"That's not from the cold," Jungkook mumbles as Taehyung pulls him up so he's standing and wraps a blanket around his shoulders.
"I would get you a cloak, but all the ones in here are too thin. Now, let us go quickly, so we are not caught." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's hand tightly and practically drags him through the castle to his own bedroom. Jungkook steps through the door and feels his eyes widen in awe. It doesn't ever change, his amazement that a single room could be so large and lavish, no matter how many times he has entered the room before.
Taehyung carefully arranges a small stack of soft pillows for Jungkook to prop himself up on before gently helping Jungkook into bed. He then quickly gets into the bed on the other side, pulling Jungkook close.
"There. Now you're in a nice, warm bed with your nice, warm boyfriend.” Taehyung tucks the blankets tighter around him, warding off any amount of cold. He cuddles closer to his chest and tucks his nose under his jaw.
“Please, Jungkookie?” Taehyung tries again, putting the extra neediness in his voice that always makes Jungkook crumble.
Jungkook sighs deeply, the sound congested and crackly. “Fine. But I’m not doing any of the work. I’m too tired.”
Taehyung grins widely and scampers off to the bathroom, returning quickly with a small, fluffy powder brush. He sits Jungkook up against the headboard and straddles his hips.
“Ready?” Taehyung asks, trailing the brush down Jungkook’s philtrum. Jungkook nods, his breath already hitching.
Taehyung drags the brush across the rims of Jungkook’s flaring nostrils. There’s a weird little buzz in his chest as he watches his eyes flutter shut. “Is this how Jungkook feels when he watches me sneeze?” He wonders as he moves the brush from the private’s nostril to his septum.
Suddenly, Jungkook moves slightly forward with a soft false start. The brush slips from his septum and dips deep into his nostril.
“Oops,” Taehyung mumbles, but it’s too late. Jungkook’s head rears back with a gasp before he lurches forward with a wet, desperate sneeze. A cold-filled mist sprays onto Taehyung’s face, with even more droplets hanging in the air between them, and it seems Jungkook isn't even close to being done. His breath hitches a few more times before he rocks forward with a sneeze, half stifled because of congestion, and mess pours down his face.
Jungkook’s nostrils flare wider than Taehyung has ever seen before, but it seems the sneeze is stuck in Jungkook’s poor, swollen sinuses.
“Tae…phuh…please…hEDT! gh-HIH…! guh…” Jungkook can barely form words through a flurry of false starts and a mess of hitches. Taehyung wiggles the brush up his other nostril and the effect is immediate. Jungkook lets out another germ-filled sneeze right into Taehyung’s face. Taehyung inhales deeply through his nose, and he swears he can already feel the germs making him sick.
“Let’s get you a handkerchief,” Taehyung says, gently pecking Jungkook’s nose. The private nods and sniffles thickly. He watches as Taehyung grabs a satin handkerchief from his nightstand, then rolls back over and holds it under Jungkook’s nose until he takes it and holds it there himself. Jungkook blows his nose into the handkerchief, the sound productive after being induced.
As Taehyung takes the handkerchief and puts it back on the nightstand, Jungkook yawns so widely that his jaw cracks. He blinks hard, trying to keep his eyes open.
“Oh my sweet little soldier,” Taehyung coos. “Go to sleep, baby. You can rest now.”
Jungkook nods and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep quickly. Taehyung smirks with the satisfaction of knowing that in a few days, he won’t need to go to the meeting and he will have his sweet Jungkookie taking care of him.
cannot for the life of me figure out how to reblog a post with a video, so here is the jk sneeze with the nose filter in from the run b/ts episode @bultaoreunheyyy was talking about!
i have no clue how pokemon works so if someone wants to write this, be my guest. Inspired by @sneezysubbyboi's post here (sorry if you have no interest in this, i just wanted to give you credit)
so, there are grass pokemon, right? BTS pokemon au where Jungkook is a pokemon trainer and he goes to battle another pokemon trainer (one of the other members) who has the kink. This trainer owns mostly grass type pokemon, so Jungkook's allergies go crazy, and the other trainer cant focus on the battle because they are distracted by Jungkook sneezing.
not in my wheelhouse but in case anyone out there is interested, and since i don't think i've seen it posted, t/om h/olland sneeze from a recent interview 👍
Bucky’s suffering in Louisiana and Sam won’t let him live it down
-PLS DONT REBLOG TO NON-KINK BLOGS!!-
***
“Mmnhh… ’m sorry we had to cancel the trip.”
Lying on his back, stretched out on Sam’s living room couch like he did the very first night he slept over, Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and sniffles. He’s probably sniffled over a thousand times since he woke up this morning, his sinuses full and decidedly wildly allergic to everything in the air.
At first, Bucky had insisted he was fine, that he could manage an eight hour expedition into Louisiana’s ragweed and pollen-rich swamps without any problems. But after spending the first hour of the day coughing, sniffling, sneezing and wheezing in constant rotation, and then launching into an astonishing sneezing fit during breakfast (18 times within 20 seconds), Sam made the executive decision to call off the fishing trip they were supposed to go on with his nephews.
“I told you already, Buck. It’s fine.” Sam sets a Kleenex box on the coffee table. “We’ll do it another time, reschedule.”
Bucky squints, pink nostrils flaring. “But a-are the boys really dis… disa… disahh’TSHhh—” he jolts from his pillow and sneezes harsh enough to send tears down his face. “Guh, disappointed?”
Sam tries- and fails- to suppress an amused smile.
Despite having heard Bucky sneeze at least a hundred times already today, there’s just something about the way he interrupts himself with an itchy little burst that makes Sam feel all gooey inside.
“It’s not funny, Sam,” Bucky huffs, offended. “Was waiting ten minutes for that sneeze- snf!- and not even a damn bless you.”
Sam shakes his head with a fond chuckle as he settles himself into the loveseat closest to the couch. Meanwhile, Bucky lets out a stuffy groan, using his fingertips to massage the tender spots under his eyes where his sinuses are the most backed up.
“You know, I thought you said Steve was the one with all the allergies.”
“Yeah, well, the twenty first century…” Bucky laments, gesturing vaguely at the air with his vibranium hand, “it doesn’t agree with me.”
Sam laughs. “I just think your little urban nose isn’t quite acquainted with the Southern pollen. Huh, city boy?” He boops the tip of Bucky’s nose, drawing out a ticklish gasp.
“hih’hiH—!? Ugh…” the cresting sneeze backs down almost as quickly as it came on, but Bucky feels it lingering in his swollen nasal cavities. “It’s pro’ly both,” he says, answering Sam’s mostly rhetorical question. He gives his nose a good rub, hoping to tease the sneeze out.
“Hm. Probably,” Sam grins, endeared. He watches Bucky focus on his nose, nostrils twitching and breath wavering. “Is it- oh, yeah, there you go,” he says when Bucky finally draws in a deep, pre-sneeze inhale.
“eH’DJSSHhiw!!” Bucky curls forward, sneezing openly at his lap while Sam keeps a steady hand on his back. “huH— EH’TZSChiiw!!”
“Bless you. You good?”
“I think- oh no.” Bucky pinches his quivering nostrils shut and stifles three sneezes into wet, squeaky squelches. “hih’kkddt! dDZSshh! gDZzhsht!!”
“Aw, wow. Those all came at once.”
Bucky scrunches up his face and roughly rubs his nose with the back of his metal hand. “God, I’m still so itchy.”
“Easy there, tiger,” Sam says, taking Bucky’s wrist away from his face. “Want me to do the compress thing?”
“Ngh... I guess. Just need to- h’hih—?!” He hitches desperately to no avail, then lets out an annoyed groan as his nostrils continue to quiver teasingly. “Need to get this itch out of my nose.”
Sam rises and gives Bucky a pat on the shoulder. “I think it’ll help.”
“Huh… h’hopefully— hih’DZZSHhk!!” He sneezes again, itchy-sounding and frustratingly useless. “Dammit.” He forcefully scrubs at his suffering nose all over again.
Sam frowns with pity. “Bless you, Buck. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
this guy I just started talking to told me, AND I QUOTE, that he's got "terrible pollen allergies" AND that he's known as "the sneeziest guy at work" ???? HELLO??!!?@,!
Summary: Lifeguard Jungkook shows up to the beach with a terrible cold and beachgoers Taehyung and Jimin do not let that stop them from their horny attempts at getting to know him on a more personal level.
A/N: i did a lot of editing/rewriting to make this more fic-like and tbh maybe made it a little bit less hot (to me). also this wasn’t supposed to see the light of day and it’s kinda scary to post it please don’t judge me but also just double check the warnings and don’t read it if you don’t want to read those things ok!!!
A/N 2: I decided to split this into two parts so the warnings below are for the first part. i’m not sure yet i’ll actually post part 2 so if not, imagine jungkook getting some comfort & caretaking and such. I think i might just post the outline/sections that i have for part 2 and not complete it fully.
Content Warnings: snot, messy sneezes, illness, fever, dubious consent (mostly due to jk having a fever), non-consensual touching, objectification, public handjob, public masturbation
🔞 minors/ageless bios DNI. such accounts that follow me or interact with my content will be blocked.
Jimin spends a good five minutes laying out his beach towel, smoothing down the edges and angling it perfectly so he’ll be in full sun– and, more importantly, in full view of the lifeguard stand.
Taehyung is the opposite. He tosses his towel down haphazardly in the sand under the umbrella, pushing his sunglasses up and grabbing a bottle of sunscreen. Before he opens it, however, he turns to look at the lifeguard stand nearby, squinting up at the empty seat.
“I hope Jungkook is okay. I haven’t seen him yet today.”
Jimin turns around and raises an eyebrow. “Who’s Jungkook?”
Taehyung’s mouth opens and closes silently like a fish out of water.
“No fucking way,” Jimin whines, half impressed. “You talked to him? Without me?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You horny fucking bastard.”
“I’m sorry.” Taehyung ducks his head guiltily. Then, he looks back up, eyes flashing in delight. “Jiminie, he’s fucking gorgeous up close. He’s a goddamn tree. And he’s more of a himbo that we could have possibly guessed.”
Jimin feels a shiver run down his spine. “Fuck, Tae.”
“I know.”
Now, they both turn to look at the unoccupied lifeguard stand.
“Well. There’s no use putting this on if he’s not here to watch us today,” Jimin pouts, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and tossing it into his beach bag. “I’ll move my towel under the umbrella with yours.”
“Wait.” Taehyung throws his arm out across Jimin’s chest. “Look.”
Jimin looks. There, trudging across the sand, is the beautiful, beefy lifeguard– Jungkook, apparently. He’s wearing his usual bright red shorts and his sexy sunglasses, but he’s also wearing, to Jimin and Taehyung’s immense surprise, a big gray hoodie.
“A hoodie?” Jimin gasps. “In this heat?”
“Who cares!” Taehyung exclaims, diving for the beach bag. “Sunscreen time!”
Jimin scrambles to take his t-shirt off. He tugs his swim trunks down low on his hips and adjusts his sunglasses, turning to face the lifeguard stand square on. Reaching up, he gathers his long blonde hair into a messy bun, securing it on the top of his head with a hair tie.
Taehyung squeezes a heaping pile of sunscreen into his palm. “Go time,” he whispers, and then rubs his hands together before standing at Jimin’s side.
“Tae!” Jimin screeches as soon as Taehyung’s hands touch his skin, rubbing the sunscreen into his exposed chest. “Ahh, it’s so cold!”
His dramatics have the desired effect; Jungkook’s head snaps in their direction, his sunglasses-protected gaze scanning the empty beach until he locks in on Jimin and Taehyung.
Taehyung grins and massages sunscreen into Jimin’s pecs and abs. “You’re sooo sensitive, Jiminie!”
Jimin arches his back into the touch. His skin is glistening under the sunshine, and he knows he looks damn good like this.
“TaeTae, stop! You know my nipples are sensitive!"
The lifeguard– Jungkook, Jimin reminds himself– stares in their direction, mouth open.
Taehyung lifts a hand into the air and waves. “Hello!”
Jungkook turns and looks over his shoulder. Jimin can see the visible confusion on his face despite his sunglasses, and it makes him giggle. When Jungkook looks back at them, Taehyung is still waving.
Lifting his own hand, Jungkook starts to wave back, but then he stops, frozen, mouth falling open even wider.
“What is he doing?” Jimin hisses through his smile.
“I think he’s–”
iiiihh-shoo!
A sneeze bursts out of Jungkook like he’s spitting it out, and based on the way his mouth is still open and he doesn’t cover his face, Jimin’s willing to bet there’s quite a bit of actual saliva coming out.
The sneeze sounds almost desperate. It also sounds, if Jimin is being completely honest, germ-ridden, and it makes his stomach swoop in an unidentifiably uncomfortable way. But the dazed look on Jungkook’s face and the little whimper he makes afterward– a pathetic noise that carries easily over the sound of the waves– turns that feeling straight into arousal.
“Oh my god,” Taehyung huffs, his teeth out in a wide smile. “That is not a sound you want to hear at the beach.”
“No,” Jimin agrees.
“Look at him– aw, he’s gonna sneeze again. Wonder what’s bothering hi– awww, look at him, Jiminie! Sorry, but he’s cute when he sneezes? How is that fair?”
Swallowing back a reply, Jimin watches as Jungkook sneezes again. And then again. And then a third– fourth?– time.
“Holy shit,” Taehyung whistles.
“Holy shit,” Jimin echoes, frowning as Jungkook drags the sleeve of his hoodie under his nose. Even from this distance, Jimin can see the trail of snot left behind that turns the fabric a darker gray.
Jungkook seems to have forgotten about them by the time he’s done sneezing. He turns around, searching for his lifeguard stand like he’s lost track of it, and then he’s climbing up into the seat.
“Fuck. Thought he might come over today.”
Jimin nods and puts his hands on his hips. “Let’s go to him.”
“What?”
“Let’s go over there. Last week when we tried our other plan, he didn’t think we were drowning and he just waved at us. Imagine if we had actually been drowning?”
“Right. So…we’re gonna go talk to him?”
Nodding, Jimin starts walking. “More than just talk, if I have anything to say about it.”
As they approach, Jungkook sneezes again. His whole entire big muscular body lurches forward. Jimin and Taehyung watch in horror as he keeps going, sliding to the edge of the chair and wobbling precariously back and forth as the entire stand rocks forward, then backward.
They can only watch in horror as another desperate look crosses Jungkook’s face, his head tipping back and his chest expanding far enough that Jimin can see the hoodie stretching taut. One of Jungkook’s hands grip the edge of the chair, and the other hovers in front of his face, trembling, until the sneeze finally escapes.
Jimin starts to run. He can see what’s about to happen from a mile away– but luckily, he’s only a few feet away now.
The sneeze sends Jungkook tumbling forward. He tries to stop himself, but ends up twisting sideways, one hand gripping tightly onto the armrest of the chair until it slips from his grasp and he falls to the ground.
Luckily, the ground isn’t so far down.
Jungkook lands feet first and then rolls back, flopping flat onto his back in the sand. He doesn’t make a sound– just lies there, his expression frozen in shock.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” Jimin yelps, kneeling next to Jungkook.
Taehyung dives to the ground on his other side, hands hovering over Jungkook’s chest.
“He needs CPR!” Taehyung shouts.
“No,” Jimin replies, trying to stay calm. He can see that Taehyung is not staying calm. “He just got the wind knocked out of him.”
“Mouth-to-mouth!” Taehyung exclaims, but Jimin stops him with an arm across his chest before he can get his mouth on Jungkook’s.
“Taehyung,” he snaps, eyeing Jungkook’s chapped lips. Pretty, but chapped. “He’s fine. He just needs a minute to recover. He’s still breathing, okay?”
Jungkook is groaning between them now, his eyes closed and his fingers digging into the sand. Jimin puts a hand on Jungkook’s chest and shudders at the feeling of all that muscle under the sweatshirt.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re Jungkook, right?”
Jungkook’s eyes fly open. He sucks in a huge breath and then coughs.
“Shh, okay. See, you’re okay. Just had a little fall, hm?”
Taehyung’s hand join’s Jimin’s on Jungkook’s chest. “And you’re still breathing,” he supplies helpfully. “So we don’t need to do CPR.”
Jimin snorts out a laugh. “God, Tae. You really want to kiss him when he’s all…” He gestures vaguely at Jungkook’s face.
“Yes,” Taehyung replies without hesitation. “I do. Don’t you?”
Honestly, Jimin gets it. Even with his red, runny nose and the chapped lips, Jungkook is hotter than hot. His face is pretty, his body is divine, and for some reason every little sound he makes and every expression that crosses his perfect face is driving Jimin wild with lust.
Currently, Jungkook’s breathy little pants as he tries to catch his breath are giving Jimin unholy thoughts. The way he’s looking up at them, his gaze endearingly hazy, is causing Jimin to imagine what other activities might lead to that kind of befuddled, empty stare. He just knows that Jungkook would have such a pretty org–
Jimin comes to his senses, shaking his head to clear the mental image of Jungkook’s imagined pleasure, and realizes that his dick is half-hard and Taehyung is running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair like they’re already lovers.
“Hey,” he blurts out, grabbing Taehyung’s wrist before he can stop himself.
Taehyung gives him a cheeky grin and squeezes Jungkook’s hand, which apparently he’s been holding with his other hand. “I think he caught his breath, Jiminie.”
Jungkook is panting, loud and noisy. Slowly, they help him into a sitting position. Up close, Jimin can see that his nose is visibly running, and prays that the lifeguard has a pack of tissues somewhere on him.
Jungkook wipes his nose with his wrist, and looks between Jimin and Taehyung, blinking a few times.
“Oh,” he says softly, breathless. He’s all congested and hoarse, but his voice is surprisingly sweet. “It’s you guys…”
“Oh? You recognize us, huh?” Jimin smirks. “You’ve been watching us, haven’t you?”
Jungkook’s cheeks turn pink, but he nods earnestly.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve been watching you too.” Jimin reaches for his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay now? Do you want to stand up?”
Jimin moves his hand down to Jungkook’s bicep, feeling him up through his hoodie as he watches Jungkook sniffle dazedly and seemingly try to decide if he is in fact okay to stand up now or not. After a minute, he nods. Jimin, who’s squeezing Jungkook’s forearm now, moves his hand back up to Jungkook’s shoulder and smiles.
“Okay, great. Want some help?”
Sniffling wetly into his sleeve, Jungkook shakes his head and pops right up off the ground, startling both Jimin and Taehyung.
“Whoa,” Taehyung chuckles, holding out both hands like he thinks Jungkook is going to fall down again. “Easy, big guy.”
Jimin brushes the sand from his knees and straightens up. Jungkook is taller than him, and a little taller than Taehyung, too. It feels like he’s towering over them, broad-shouldered and confidently taking up every bit of space that his muscular body fills.
Then, Jungkook sniffles, and he seems to shrink back a little, eyelashes fluttering in irritation as he drags his hoodie sleeve under his nose again.
“Do you happen to have any tissues?” Jimin asks him, peeking around for a backpack or something.
“Tissues?” Jungkook asks.
“For your nose,” Jimin prompts.
After a second, Jungkook’s face lights up with understanding. “Oh, yeah. I have a cold,” he announces, his voice deep and raspy.
“Yes. You poor thing.” Jimin tilts his head. “Why did you come to work today?”
Jungkook also tilts his head, looking legitimately confused by the question. “I come to work every day.”
Taehyung laughs, head thrown back. “Did you hear that?” he asks. “Hilarious.”
“Don’t listen to Tae,” Jimin rushes to say when he sees the bewildered look on Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry you have a cold. You must not feel very well.”
“I’m really cold,” Jungkook agrees, turning big, watery eyes on Jimin, his voice thick with congestion. “And my nose is stuffed up.”
Something comes over Jimin that he’s never felt before, something he’d never be able to put into words. He reaches up, cupping Jungkook’s flushed cheek, and longs to pull him into a hug.
A hug.
A hug won’t do, though.
Not even when Jungkook is leaning into the touch like a cat, unashamedly rubbing his fever-flushed cheek all over Jimin’s palm, his eyes closed and a blissful smile spreading across his face.
Instead, Jimin slides his hand down to the side of Jungkook’s neck, where his skin is even hotter, and swallows back most of his concern.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Jimin coos. “You’re burning up. Why don’t you take this off and come into the water with us to cool down?” He tugs at the hem of Jungkook’s lifeguard hoodie.
Wet a wet, wet sniffle, Jungkook nods and lifts his arms up, and Jimin coos again, tugging the hoodie up and over his head.
The sight that meets them is glorious. They’ve seen Jungkook shirtless before, of course– it’s the main reason why they come to this beach, after all– but seeing it up close is a different story.
As soon as the hoodie is off, Jungkook’s skin erupts all over in goosebumps, and he shivers once, a full-body thing that makes his toes curl into the sand and his teeth clatter together. Taehyung had certainly been right– Jungkook is big. Big. So big that Jimin’s cock twitches at just the thought of Jungkook in the gym, working out every day, pumping iron with those big glorious muscles.
He could probably take on Taehyung and Jimin both at once, easily, without a single struggle.
His skin is beautiful, too, glowing and blemish-free, with tiny little moles sprinkled all over– and he’s flushed from his face down to his chest. Jimin’s eyes go straight to his nipples, tiny and perky and rock hard, and then to the tiny trail of peach fuzz below his belly button that disappears into the waistband of his swim trunks.
Suddenly, Jungkook’s hand flies up to hover in front of his face, and he makes a squeaky, congested little sound, his face scrunching up adorably.
“You okay?” Jimin chuckles, breathless, aroused.
Jungkook reaches out with his other hand, trying to grab something without really looking– because his eyelashes are fluttering rapidly, his teary gaze unfocused. Jimin and Taehyung watch him, slightly confused, until Jungkook manages to get his fingers around the hoodie that Jimin is still holding.
“Oh, are you too cold? Do you–”
Jungkook grabs onto his hoodie and yanks it back, bunches it up in front of his face, and sneezes mightily right into the fabric.
“iiiihh-shoo!”
The sneeze sounds wet. It’s followed by a second wet sneeze– htsch’shoo!– and an even wetter sniffle.
“Fucking gross,” Taehyung says, but he sounds more amused than disgusted.
Jimin himself is completely speechless.
With a shuddering, desperate inhale, Jungkook sneezes yet again. “hhhh-IHHCH’shoo!”
Jungkook finally lifts his head. There’s a string of snot that goes with him, stretching between his nose and the hoodie until he sniffs hard and it breaks.
“Repulsive.” Taehyung laughs, bright and delighted. “Bless you!”
Jungkook doesn’t respond. His eyes are already rolling up again, his massive chest heaving with frantic breaths.
“hhHH! hihhh! hhHH-IIISHOO!”
Most of the sneeze makes it into the hoodie. Some of it, Jimin can see, does not. Jungkook shakes his head back and forth, scrubbing his nose against the damp fabric, and then looks up with red-rimmed eyes and a bright red nose.
“Bless you,” Jimin murmurs reflexively. “Can you stop? I mean, are you…done? With the…the sneezing?”
Jungkook nods his head eagerly and it reminds Jimin of an overexcited puppy.
“Yeah,” he says, voice trembling in a very unconvincing way. “M’done.” He drops the hoodie into the sand at his feet.
“Good.” Jimin smiles at him. “That’s good.”
Jungkook’s neck and ears turn red at that. His nostrils flare dangerously, but he jams a knuckle under his nose. Jimin can see, because Jungkook’s lips are slightly parted, his tongue pressing up against the roof of his mouth.
Jimin looks over at Taehyung, raising his eyebrows when Taehyung looks back. Without a word, Taehyung nods and takes Jungkook by the elbow.
“C’mon, big guy,” he says, grinning when Jimin snorts in amusement. “Let’s go down to the water. You know how to swim, right?”
Jungkook blinks his big round eyes, processing the question. Or more accurately, not quite processing the question.
“It was a joke,” Taehyung tells him, and Jungkook stares for a second longer before his face breaks into a big grin.
“Oh,” he giggles hoarsely. “I get it.”
Jimin is almost positive that Jungkok does not, in fact, get it.
Almost shyly, Jungkook starts walking, his breath hitching when Taehyung’s hand slides down to grab his hand. Jimin smiles and takes Jungkook’s other hand, and Jungkook lets himself be pulled toward the water without hesitation. He only stops once they step foot into the ocean, cool waves lapping at their feet, and squeezes both of their hands in warning before–
“HHH-SHOO!”
“Bless you,” Taehyung says, but it’s drowned out by another sneeze.
Taking both of his hands back, Jungkook scrubs at his face, sniffling loudly and rocking back and forth between his feet.
“When-hhh! Whenever I step into cold water when I have a cold it makes me sneeze like crazy,” he tells them, clearly holding back another sneeze.
“That’s very specific,” Taehyung laughs. “Jimin sneezes when he drinks red wine.”
“That is not necessary information,” Jimin mutters, but he’s too busy ogling Jungkook’s bulging biceps to be annoyed by Taehyung’s oversharing.
Jungkook’s hands are big and his fingers are long and Jimin imagines, as Jungkook uses his thumb to swipe over the tip of his nose, what they might look like rubbing the tip of something else.
“Let’s go a little farther out,” Jimin suggests, wading through the shallow water.
Waves lap at their legs as Jimin leads Jungkook deeper into the ocean. Taehyung guides Jungkook from behind with a hand on the small of his back, and Jungkook sniffles pathetically, his nose dripping and his congested breathing loud over the sound of the waves.
They go to where the water is waist-deep. There’s not a single other beachgoer nearby, so Jimin doesn’t feel too guilty about occupying the beach’s only lifeguard for a moment. Standing in front of Jungkook, he puts both hands on the lifeguard’s waist and strokes the skin just above his waistband with his thumbs.
“So, Jungkook,” he murmurs, “you’ve been watching us, hm?”
Jungkook nods. His hands reach out, hesitant at first, but when Jimin gives him a smile they settle on Jimin’s hips.
Taehyung comes to stand behind Jungkook. He slides a hand up to the back of Jungkook’s neck, and his other hand wraps around Jungkook’s waist, palm pressed against his abs.
“What do you like most about watching us?” Taehyung asks, his lips brushing Jungkook’s ear.
Shivering, Jungkook ducks his head, biting his lip like he’s too shy to say it.
“Did you know an orgasm can help clear up a stuffy nose?” Taehyung says conspiratorially, like he’s letting Jungkook in on an especially good secret.
“Really?” Jungkook replies, looking back up. “I didn’t know that.”
Laughing, Taehyung glances over at Jimin, raising his eyebrows. They have the same idea at the same time, both reaching down into the water to palm at the front of Jungkook’s shorts. Jungkook shivers at the touch, whining softly, and Jimin feels a thrilling rush of blood straight to his face and his cock– Jungkook is packing. He’s big. Bigger than Taehyung, even.
“So big,” Jimin gushes, looking up at Jungkook’s face. “I bet you look so pretty with your cock out, sweetheart.”
“Ahh–” Jungkook shivers again, and thrusts his hips forward, his head tipping all the way back.
“Let’s see.” Jimin unties Jungkook’s swimsuit just enough to tug the front down a little, pulling Jungkook’s cock out. “Look at you. Already getting hard for us? Even when you’re all sneezy?” Jimin purrs, wrapping his hand around Jungkook’s thick length.
Jungkook nods eagerly, proud. “I can get hard even when I’m sneezy.”
Taehyung cackles. “He’s hilarious,” he says to Jimin, his hand joining Jimin’s around Jungkook’s cock. To Jungkook, he says, “Very impressive,”
Face flushing, Jungkook’s hips jerk forward again. His red nostrils flare wide, and for a moment Jimin thinks he might sneeze, but instead he just moans loudly, his breath coming in shallow, hitching gasps.
“I…I’ve behhh…been thinkin’ about this for w-weeks," he admits, his voice hoarse but unashamed.
Taehyung grins and presses his own erection against Jungkook’s ass. “Yeah? You’ve been watching us sunbathe and imagining us touching you like this?"
“Y-yeah.”
Taehyung’s grip tightens, and Jungkook whines, his cock twitching. The waves toss them gently back and forth, but Jungkook is like an anchor, unmoving.
It doesn’t take long before Jungkook is shaking all over, his glowing skin flushed all over and drenched in sweat, his thighs trembling as Jimin and Taehyung pull him closer and closer towards climax. Taehyung keeps a hand on his stomach, feels his abs clenching as he pants out whiny, whimpering moans. Jimin reaches up and toys with Jungkook’s nipple, pleased when Jungkook arches into the touch with a breathy moan.
“I’m–” Jungkook gasps suddenly, voice cracking, and Jimin grins.
“Gonna come, sweetheart?”
A desperate cry tears from Jungkook’s throat. He brings shaky hands up, one to grip Jimin’s wrist by his chest and the other to hover in front of his face, half-clenched in a fist.
“I’m…I…I-hhh…”
“That’s it,” Taehyung soothes, keeping up his rhythm as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Jungkook’s neck. “Come for us, big guy.”
“I’m guhhh…I’m g-gonna– hhh…”
Chest heaving, eyes rolling up, Jungkook shudders beneath their ministrations, his entire body tensing up.
“I…ihhh’hghh–”
“Don’t fight it,” Jimin chuckles, tugging his wrist free and brushing his thumb over Jungkook’s nipple again. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”
Jungkook does something with his head, half nodding and half shaking it back and forth, like he’s unsure of what’s about to happen to him. Which, Jimin realizes, could be true– what if Jungkook has never had an orgasm before? What if he’s only touched himself, never been touched by someone else?
“You’re doing so well.” Jimin changes tactics a little, smoothing his hand up Jungkook’s collarbone, reaching up to cup his face. “We’re gonna make you feel so good. Just let go, okay?”
“I’m–”
Whatever Jungkook is about to say dissolves into another whimper as Taehyung sucks on the underside of his jaw and Jimin’s thumb swipes over his slit, over and over in time with every movement of their hands together on his cock.
“Don’t hold back, sweetheart,” Jimin whispers, his own heart pounding as he watches Jungkook fall apart.
Jungkook gasps then, his body locking up with a shuddering, desperate inhale. For a moment, he’s suspended like that, frozen where he’s teetering on the edge, until–
“hhHH-GHH’SHOO!”
A loud, wet sneeze explodes messily outward in a spraying arc. Jimin feels it splatter against his bare chest, his shoulder. His cheek, maybe, but before he has a chance to dwell on it, Jungkook’s cock pulses in his hand and he’s spilling out across Jimin’s fingers and his forearm, ropes of cum shooting out like it’s been uncorked by the force of the sneeze.
Through it all, Jungkook trembles and whines, pleasure mixed with intense relief mixed. Eventually he slumps forward, hands returning to Jimin’s waist, blissed-out and runny-nosed.
“Wow,” Taehyung whistles.
Jimin looks over to see that he has a hand down his swim trunks, working himself furiously under the material.
“Wow. Fuck,” Jimin adds, still processing the fact that he’s just been sneezed on and cummed on simultaneously. “Fuck.”
Jimin’s cock is hard, too, but for some reason he doesn’t reach for himself, even as the heat in his gut grows at the sight of Taehyung jerking himself off. Instead, he closes his eyes and captures the mental image of Jungkook’s helpless desperation in the seconds before he’d orgasmed– and sneezed, what the fuck– and tucks it away in the back of his mind for what will surely be a mind-blowing jerk-off session later on, when he’s alone.
“You’re so sexy,” Taehyung says roughly, pressing himself up against Jungkook’s ass again. “God, you’re so sexy, Jungkook–”
Jungkook tries to turn around and look at Taehyung, but he’s too slow as Taehyung pulls himself out and slots his cock against the defined line of his crack. Through Jungkook’s swim trunks, Taehyung rubs the head of his cock against Jungkook’s hole, rutting his hips forward until he’s coming with a growling moan.
“Ohh!” Jungkook gasps weakly in surprise, his cheeks turning pink.
He bends forward, arching into the touch, and Taehyung lets go of himself to grab onto his waist with both hands.
“Fuck,” Taehyung spits out, jaw clenched as his pleasure racks through his body. “You’d take me so fucking well, wouldn’t you, big guy?”
Jungkook nods frantically and sniffs back an unholy amount of snot that’s threatening to drip from his nose. “Yeah.”
Even though Jungkook has already come, his cock twitches as Taehyung comes over the back of his shorts, forehead pressed against the back of Jungkook’s neck.
They stand like that, Jungkook sandwiched between Taehyung and Jimin, and catch their breath. The ocean washes away most of the evidence of their debauchery, but Jimin can feel Jungkook’s snot drying on his skin, so he dips down into the water to scrub it away.
Jungkook watches him, blinking slowly, completely unbothered by the fact that he’d so thoroughly marked Jimin. Taehyung cleans himself up too, and Jungkook adjusts his swim trunks with shaky fingers, carefully tying the drawstring closed again.
Then, Jungkook pinches his nose and drags his fingers down, dipping his hand into the ocean afterward to clean off all of the snot that comes with it. Jimin fights back that funny disgusted-aroused feeling again and gestures towards the beach.
“We should get out of the water.”
As they start making their way back to the shore, Jungkook starts sneezing again– tired, congested little sneezes that come in sets of two and three, aiming them into a cupped hand.
“hgsh-uh! eghh’shoo!”
“Bless you,” Taehyung murmurs, watching Jungkook rub his nose before he starts walking again.
A second later, Jungkook stops again. “hh-hgsh-uh! ahh’hpsh!”
Each time he has to sneeze, he stops for a moment, like he can’t walk and sneeze at the same time.
“hgshch! hp’shoo! eghh’shoo! Fuck,” Jungkook groans, dragging his forearm under his running nose.
Taehyung chuckles and nudges Jungkook to keep moving. “Bless you.”
The next time Jungkook sneezes, he stumbles forward a bit, until Jimin catches him by the elbow. “eghh’shoo! nnhhh-EHH’shoo!”
“Goodness,” Jimin murmurs, watching Jungkook’s nose run onto his upper lip. “You’re not gonna stop, are you?”
Jungkook looks almost alarmed at that, but then his face crumples and he’s sneezing again. “nnhhh-EHH’shoo! hh-ehh’shch!” He sniffs hard and shakes his head. “Need to blow my nose,” he says, whiny and stuffed up.
“Aww,” Taehyung coos. “Let’s go find you a tissue.”
“Oka-hhh– ehh’shch! gshsh-uh!”
They make a detour to where their stuff is under their umbrella, but there isn’t a single thing in Jimin’s bag to use as a tissue there. Jungkook stands there rubbing his red nose raw and sneezing repeatedly while Jimin looks around, thinking.
“hhh-ehh’PTCH! gshsh! hpshch!”
“Let’s go check by the lifeguard stand,” Taehyung suggests. “Jungkook, did you bring any tissues with you today?”
“N-nn– iiighh-shoo! hh-hgsh-uh! No?”
He doesn’t sound very sure, but they make their way over anyway. After a brief search, they still come up empty. Since there aren’t any tissues, Jimin finds the next best thing– Jungkook’s sweatshirt, already damp, still in the sand from where he’d discarded it earlier. He picks it up between two fingers and shakes it to dislodge as much sand as possible before passing it to Jungkook, who takes it and looks at it in confusion.
“For your nose,” Jimin says, gesturing at Jungkook’s face.
Despite his apparent lack of understanding, Jungkook has no choice but to bring the sweatshirt up to his face, sneezing wetly into the fabric until he’s left exhausted and stuffed up and shivering.
“Blow,” Jimin instructs, holding onto Jungkook’s elbow to keep the sweatshirt up to his face. “Blow your nose.”
Luckily, Jungkook obeys without question, exhaling forcefully into the sweatshirt.
“Yuck,” Taehyung chuckles, a sickened yet fascinated expression on his face by the sheer volume of mucus being expelled. “Sounds like you’re really congested.”
Jungkook wipes his nose one final time on one of the hoodie sleeves and then drops it back into the sand.
“Why do I want to take him home so we can take care of him?” Taehyung asks, speaking about Jungkook as if he’s not standing right there.
“It doesn’t feel right to just leave him here,” Jimin agrees. Especially not after what they’ve just done in the ocean. “And I think he still has a fever…”
Taehyung frowns. “Okay. Let me look for a number or someone we can call. There’s got to be a backup lifeguard, right?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook croaks, looking sleepy. “There’s a backup lifeguard.”
“Perfect! Do you have a phone number?”
It takes Jungkook a moment after he nods to take action, and then he reaches into the pocket of his swim trunks and, to Taehyung and Jimin’s horror, pulls out his phone.
“You had your phone in your pocket?” Jimin yelps.
Taehyung laughs.
Jungkook, tapping futilely at his dark phone screen, looks like a sad puppy. He looks up at them, nostrils twitching, and sniffles pitifully.
Seokjin is gently shaking his shoulder. Namjoon knows that. But he can't resist the gentle pull that sleep has on his mind, the soft tug that's keeping him from being able to fully open his eyes.
"Namjoonie," Seokjin calls. "You need more medicine, baby."
"Ngh," Namjoon protests. "Don't wanna."
"Come on, Joon. Don't make this more difficult."
Namjoon remains still on the bed before he hears Seokjin sigh, and suddenly his hyung's strong arms are wrapped around his waist, pulling him up so he's sitting against the headboard. He slowly blinks his eyes open, shooting Seokjin a watery-eyed scowl.
"Just a few sips of soup and one pill. That's it." Seokjin holds out a steaming mug and Namjoon takes it, blinking blearily down at the food. He slowly, shakily, brings the cup to his mouth. The hot liquid slides down his throat easily, and he finds himself suddenly hungrier than he has been for the past few days. He quickly drinks it all and looks up expectantly at Seokjin.
"You're so cute, you know that?" Seokjin chuckles, handing him a small pill and a cup of water. Namjoon takes both and swallows the pill quickly, almost instantly getting back under the blankets.
"Sleep well, Joonie."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seokjin
"Hyung, are you even watching this movie?"
Seokjin barely moves his head to look up at Jungkook.
"Yah, Jungkookie, I'm just relaxing my brain." Seokjin offers a feeble excuse that he's not fully sure Jungkook hears due to how raspy his voice is. He's not even confident he said anything out loud.
Jungkook hums noncomittially, placing a palm against his forehead. The furrow between his brow deepens and he scurries off.
Seokjin let's his head fall back against the couch cushions with a shaky sigh, his eyelids drooping. He hears Jungkook come back into the room and say something, but he can't quite make out what he says. He feels the tip of a thermometer slide into his mouth, but he's asleep before it can beep with the reading.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yoongi
Yoongi jolts awake at the kitchen table from Hoseok's loud laughter in the living room. He sighs, resting his cheek back on his folded arms, and shivers.
He registers the sound of footsteps getting closer, and he hears a soft "oh!" The footsteps retreat and he can suddenly no longer hear whatever video game Jungkook was playing. The footsteps comeback and a blanket is being draped over his shoulders.
Yoongi slowly opens his eyes and sees Hoseok's worried eyes staring into his. "Hob-ah..."
"Let's get you into bed, hyung." Hoseok's voice is uncharacteristically quiet.
Yoongi lets himself be pulled up and guided towards the hallway, but doesn't let Hoseok steer him into his own room. Instead, he walks straight into his fellow rapper's room, unceremoniously falling down onto the bed.
"You really want to be in here?" Hoseok asks with a smile.
Yoongi nods, his eyes almost closed and the sweet scent of Hoseok's sheets surrounding him, slowly lulling him to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hoseok
Hoseok stares at his reflection in the mirror. There are dark circles under his eyes and his nostrils are red and chapped. His hair is wild from tossing and turning and there's a bruise on his arm from thrashing around during one of his nightmares.
It feels like he can't win. If he takes medicine, the medicine gives him bad dreams. If he doesn't take medicine, the fever gives him bad dreams.
It's been going on for 3 days and he can't fucking take it anymore.
Suddenly, tears are falling down his cheeks and he's too tired to stop the sobs from ripping through him. He sinks to the floor, scrubbing at his face.
The door slowly opens and Jimin's face pokes into the bathroom. He sits down infront of Hoseok without saying a word and gently wipes the tears from his cheeks with his small thumbs.
"Do you wanna sleep in my bed, hyung?" The younger dancer asks. Hosoek nods as he tries to get control of his breathing. Jimin helps him stand on shaky legs and leads him through the hallway. Once he's finally tucked into bed again, Jimin crouches down infront of him.
"Anything else you need?"
"What about the nightmares?" Hoseok rasps.
"No more nightmares, hyung. I promise."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jimin
The bouncing of the car is putting Jimin to sleep.
That, and the way Taehyung is massaging the back of his neck, his long fingers moving to all of the right points to make Jimin feel even just slightly better.
"Does that feel good, hyung?" Taehyung's deep voice seems to bounce around in Jimin's head. He can only give a grunt in response.
Taehyung continues his massage, rubbing at his shoulders, upper back, and then working his way up to Jimin's temples. Jimin almost moans from the relief he feels when some of the pressure in his head is alleviated.
"Don't fall asleep, I don't want to carry you."
But it's to late. Jimin is already asleep from the warmth and care of his soul mate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taehyung
Taehyung breathes in the fresh, early spring air. It's damp outside and his nose is tickling, but he doesn't care. All he cares about is that he's finally comfortable. Not too hot, not too cold. The sun is hitting only his chilly legs and the breeze is hitting only his over heated face.
He finally remembers what if feels like to not have a fever ravaging his body. Sure, the other mildly annoying symptoms of his illness are there. He still has a headache, his sinuses are full to the brim, and the fatigue is making it feel like there is a weighted blanket draped over his body, but he doesn't care.
He hears the balcony door slide open and close and footsteps pad over to him.
"Taehyungie," Yoongi's soft, deep voice calls. "You shouldn't be out here. You still have a fever and its springtime."
Taehyung whines and lets his whole body go limp in protest.
"Come on, kiddo, let's get you back in bed." Yoongi places a hand on Taehyung's shoulder. Taehyung blinks his sleepy eyes open and lets them meet Yoongi's, his nostrils flaring. Yoongi sighs.
"Your eyes are already getting red. You know better than to go outside without your m- oh!"
Taehyung rocks forward with an ear-splitting sneeze, sniffling against the messy aftermath.
"Exactly my point. Now come inside so we can get you some medicine and you can take a nap."
Taehyung nods and willingly stands, ready for more rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jungkook
Namjoon wrings his hands together as he stands infront of a sleeping Jungkook. His fever has gone up a bit in the last 10 minutes and it's almost time for his next dose of medicine.
But one of the hardest things to do is wake a sleepy Jungkookie, for multiple reasons. One, he sleeps like the dead. Two, he grumbles and groans if you finally do get him awake. Three, how could one wake him when he looks so cute and peaceful?
Namjoon crouches down infront of Jungkook and gently cups his cheek.
"Kookie. You need to wake up." Jungkook takes a deep breath through his nose and breathes out a sigh. His eyelashes flutter open and his breath hitches. He lurches forward with a tiny, stifled sneeze.
"Oh, bless you. You awake?" Namjoon moves his hand to his shoulder. Jungkook nods and blinks the sleep from his eyes. Namjoon holds a small cup of medicine up to his mouth and Jungkook drinks it all down. He purses his lips in disgust.
"I know, have some water." Namjoon hands Jungkook a glass of water and starts cleaning up the tissues on the end table. He hears Jungkook's breath hitch once, then one more time before he lets out the loudest sneeze Namjoon has ever heard come from Jungkook.
"Oh, baby." Namjoon gathers up the blanked, soaked from spilled water. Jungkook shivers without the warmth of the blanket covering him. "I'll get you another one, don't worry."
Namjoon takes the blanket and puts it in the dryer, grabbing another one before going back to Jungkook. He chuckles lightly and puts the blanket around Jungkook's shoulders and kisses his forehead.
A reaching over to feel B’s forehead after a particularly harsh-sounding sneeze, but just as they make contact, B sneezes again and pitches A’s hand forward along with it
The first day that truly feels like spring has finally arrived is a feeling like no other. To celebrate, both Sam and Bucky decide that all plans of productivity and running errands are to be canceled in favor of basking in the sun and outdoors. The two of them find a nice spot to set out a blanket and cuddle, soak up some vitamin D, and maybe get a little sweet on each other… ya know, if the mood allows.
“What time is it?”
Sam lowers his sunglasses a half an inch and checks his wrist watch. “‘Bout 3:30. Why, you got someplace to be?”
Bucky nuzzles his head back against Sam’s chest with a yawn. “No,” he says sleepily, “jus’ wondering.”
Sam waits a moment until he’s sure Bucky doesn’t have anything else to say before feeling around the quilted picnic blanket for today’s newspaper. Yes, an actual, old fashioned paper newsprint. His sister clowns him for keeping such an old-head habit— hell, even Bucky will playfully chide him (“aren’t I the one that’s a hundred years old?”) for it, but god forbid a man appreciate the fine art of the paper press!
Mid afternoon in Delacroix is calm and tranquil— at least in the semi-hidden wildflower field a short ways away from the Wilson residence. Besides the occasional crinkling of the sports section pages, the spring air is filled with the soothing hum of crickets and dragonflies, daisies and river weeds swaying in the breeze, the occasional passing bicycle…
“hg’TCHuu! h'DJSChh!!”
…and sneezing, apparently.
Sam looks down to a watery-eyed Bucky scrubbing his nose upwards with the heel of his palm. “Bless you,” he says.
Bucky looks up apologetically. “Oh… sorry, babe. Snf! Thi’gk my allergy meds are wearing off.”
“It’s alright,” Sam says softly. “Lay back down.”
Bucky settles himself back to where he was before his nose disrupted him, with his right cheek pressed against Sam’s cotton t-shirt.
Sam snakes his hand up Bucky’s shirt to rub his warm back. But after only a moment, he feels Bucky take a shaky breath, body shuddering against his chest. “Again?”
“h’mptsh! h’MPTSH’iuhh!! Ugh, yeah…” Bucky sniffles thickly. “They just keep od comi’g.”
“Bless you.” Sam continues rubbing Bucky’s back, feeling goosebumps appear under his palm as the clearly allergic guy tries to ride through a spell of desperate, hitching breaths. “You seem so itchy, Buck… maybe we should head back.”
Bucky shakes his head, refusing to move from Sam’s side despite the terribly uncomfortable, burning tickle pulsing along his inflamed mucus membranes, making him gasp and hitch uncontrollably.
Sam raises an eyebrow. This is the same man who was once considered the stealthiest assassin in the world? “You sure about that? Cause you sound like you still need to—”
“Fuck,” Bucky mumbles, vigorously rubbing his inner wrist against his wet nostrils, eliciting a soft squelching sound. He detaches himself from Sam and rolls onto the picnic blanket, props himself up with an elbow before reaching into his pocket to pull out a couple crumpled tissues. “Ugh… ‘m sorry, Sam.” He blows his nose. “I’m done now. I promise.”
“Mhm,” Sam nods, unconvinced.
“I am!” Bucky responds with a voice crack. He clears his throat and sniffles.
Sam tilts his head and raises a brow as Bucky’s pink nostrils twitch precariously around the edges, like they have a mind of their own. His normally blindingly blue eyes are dulled by a sheen of irritated tears which threaten to spill over puffy lash lines each time he blinks.
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” Sam says, but he’s not gonna fight him on it, especially given his familiarity with Bucky’s stubbornness. He just sighs and picks his paper back up, trying to find where he left off reading about Sunday’s game.
Feeling dejected, Bucky huffs and lowers Sam’s newspaper, much to the latter’s dismay.
“Wh— hey, I was reading that— mm?!” Sam’s eyes go wide as Bucky presses a kiss to his lips. “Hmpf… okay, fine,” he says in between breaths. “The Saints lost anyways, so…” He lets Bucky push him back and trail kisses down his neck.
“You’re so, snf, pretty, darlin’,” Bucky hums between kisses, voice low and sultry.
“Buck…” Sam whines, running his hand through Bucky’s short hair as he cradles the back of his head.
They go on for a couple minutes, bodies working in harmony with each other as they kiss and press their skin as close as possible, as if to meld into one existence…
…until Bucky feels a burning twinge in his sinuses rush at him all at once. He realizes he’s about to sneeze- a lot- but barely has the time to take a complete breath, let alone warn Sam what’s about to happen. He has no choice but to bury his nose into the crook of Sam’s neck and sneeze.
“ngk’TSH! hng’kTSH!! NGX’TSH!!”
It takes a second for Sam to process what just happened considering he was really enjoying his makeout session, but when he does, he can’t help his lips from turning up at the ends with a mischievous smile.
“Uh-oh, there it is,” Sam teases.
Bucky sits back on his heels, his twitching nose pointed towards the sky as he builds up for more. “hih— h’hEh— eH’tsh! tsh! g’tsh! C-cah… can’t st-stuh- stop—! k’tsh-ih’TSH-ISCHhhh!!”
“Let them out, Buck,” Sam says. “It won’t stop until you do.”
Despite his attempt at stopping the rapid fire sneezes by pinching his warm, irritated nostrils shut, another triple wracks through the allergic guy with agonizing intensity.
“IGDZSH!! TZSSCH!! H’DZSHH!! Fuck!” Bucky pulls his hand- which is now covered in spray- away from his face and groans. Although he hates to admit it, he knows Sam’s right. He’s so itchy, he can feel it in his eyes and through the roof of his mouth.
So, when his sinuses buzz once more with the irritated thrum of allergic rhinitis, Bucky lowers his hands to his lap and lets his nose run wild. “hIH’GISHHiew!! Snfffk! Snff! heh- hEh- EH’TSHHiew!! Hih’ISHHIEW!! ESHHOOO!!”
“There you go. Feel better?” Sam asks, rubbing soothing circles between Bucky’s shoulder blades.
Bucky blindly nods— although it’s not particularly true— head tipping back, his widening nostrils preparing for release like a reloading gun with fresh ammo.
“hEH-EH’DSCHH! Ugh…” These sneezes scrape his throat and seem to use every inch of his body, his sinuses swollen and desperate to get the pollen out out out. “geH— EDTSSHH’yIiieEWw!! Oh god…”
“Bless you, baby,” Sam says, sounding so sweet and gentle as Bucky gets his absolute shit rocked out of him by stupid flowers. “Got another one coming?”
Again, the only thing Bucky can do is nod through his ticklish torture. It’s as if every muscle in his body is aching in anticipation for just one—
“ihH-”
final—
“eh’hh-”
all-encompassing—
“hehH- eeEEIISSCHOOO!!!”
Bucky shoots forward, his frame shuddering as the sneeze harshly barrels out of his nose, explosive and wet and desperately loud. The front of his shirt and his lap have become damp with moisture, while the remnants of his allergic fit cling to his pink, raw nostrils, septum and philtrum, running down his lips and to his chin. “Holy cow… sdfff…”
“Jesus, Buck, god bless you,” Sam chuckles while rubbing Bucky’s back and shaking his head, amused. “Think everyone within a five mile radius now knows about your allergies.”
“Shut up,” Bucky groans. He pinches his drippy nostrils and pulls forward, slicking off the moisture with his fingers before flicking the residue into the villainous flowers beside him. “Just help me pack up before I start sneezing again.”
Do you ever write the smutty follow-up to a fic, just to have it end up waaay longer than the original? Anyway. Here, have some more Superman stuff! Lois POV! Some actual explicit porn for once! 18+ Only!
I got some other good prompts in my Inbox that I’m percolating on, so thank you guys for that and for being nicies in general :) The words of horny encouragement doth sustain.
Mild warnings for mess, weird alien/sci-fi bio stuff, destructive snz trope, etc. All the good shit. Enjoy, thanks for reading!
The bedroom has seen better days.
It has also seen much worse days, when Lois has been chasing a lead for weeks and barely had time to stop home for a shower before she’s in the city or on the road again. College Lois was also a complete disaster, and her shithole apartment at the time suffered much more than a broken mirror and some hastily rearranged furniture.
Her only real concern now is stepping around the broken glass when she gets up to start the coffee pot, but that’s still a minor inconvenience. Wholly worth it, too, for the sight that greets her when she returns with her first heavily-doctored cup.
She’s already pulled the blinds all the way open, which reflects the scattered mirror shards and creates an oddly whimsical, disco ball pattern of sunlight cascading around the room. More importantly, it comes streaming in through the windows and across the bed with the kind of full force morning brilliance that was only an annoyance before she acquired a solar-powered boyfriend.
Six feet and some change of chiseled alien boyfriend, in fact, his impossible body still relaxed with slumber as he continues to drool on her pillow. Lois masks her smile behind a sip of the jet fuel and sugar slurry she’s concocted. Even while unconscious, Clark has curled himself into the rays of warmth, chasing the heat and light that casts him in a resplendent golden glow. Every time. He’s like a cat in a sunbeam.
She doesn’t think either of them will have the pleasure of sleeping in long, though it’s still early. She’ll take all the time they can get.
Especially if she starts caffeinating now.
Lois sets the mug aside on her end table, which has survived so far and is therefore probably in the safe zone. If not, oh well. She’s careful as she slips back into bed, only because she’s trying not to wake him.
Clark stirs anyway, with the sharpness of a sudden, deeper breath and the groggy shift towards her body, groping for her frame. She’s not sure she’d call it full consciousness. Still, Lois is preferable to the sunlight? She’s flattered.
“Mmn,” he mumbles, curling an arm across her middle. Lois welcomes the weight of it as she lugs him over into a proper cuddle, guiding his head down against her. “Time’sit?”
“Still way too early. Go back to sleep, farmboy, we’re good for a while.”
She allowed herself the indulgence of exactly ten minutes to sift through her phone notifications while the coffee brewed. Just enough to confirm that nothing is actively, literally on fire. It takes incredible dedication to her relationship and not her job to go back to bed, but now she’s very glad that she did.
This is what it’s all for, isn’t it?
She kisses Clark’s brow and takes the opportunity to assess him more closely, once he drifts back off into a compliant doze. He doesn’t look banged up and bruised like he did last night, all the marks of betrayal faded from cellular memory in the warmth of the sun. His skin is smooth and unbroken now, the curves and dips of it leading her gaze down and down his length to...
Lois pauses. Okay, well that is some truly impressive morning wood that she’s now wishing she’d addressed before shushing him to sleep again.
Maybe they can circle back.
For now, she returns her attention to his face. Long, dark eyelashes fan over his cheeks, and Lois draws a musing touch down the line of his jaw. There’s a pleasantly rough texture there, a faint shadow of stubble that catches under her skin. He seems to grow a beard at approximately the same rate a human man does, though Lois still isn’t sure she believes him when he claims that he lasers it off every morning via heat vision. She’s refused to indulge him enough to ask for a demonstration, yet she knows she’s going to cave eventually.
Lois pauses again, when she arrives at a darker smudge across his upper lip. Just under his left nostril, in fact, is a shiny mark that looks almost like pencil graphite or a sort of glittery eyeshadow. Frowning, she skims her thumb across the swatch and comes away with a faintly metallic smear on her skin.
It takes a moment of studying the sheen as she tilts it in and out of the light before recognition clicks.
So, she wasn’t seeing things last night.
Clark looks better on the surface, sure, but she has no idea what’s going on internally. The answer, apparently, is thousands and thousands of microscopic robots that his body is still in the process of purging. She glances at the small drool spot on his abandoned pillow, and can’t decide if that also has a silvery look to it, or if that’s her imagination.
“Weird,” she murmurs to herself, fascinated.
There’s no palpable grittiness to the nanites when she rubs her fingers together, but the desiccated tech crushes down easily to a finer and finer particulate. She can see how irritating this would be clinging to the entire surface of his respiratory tract.
Lois can’t feel any disgust like he seemed to be fretting about last night, just a fresh wave of sympathy. Dating a metahuman takes a lot of adjusting expectations, and one dedicated to global… possibly galactic heroism even moreso. They’re both very much still figuring the paces of it out, in addition to figuring each other out. The quirks of biology are sometimes the easiest thing for her to just roll with. Residual, nanite-laden mucus after a bloody battle is an oddity that barely blips on her radar.
She steadies Clark with one arm and leans up with the other for the tissue box she spots near the headboard. Lois folds a couple sheets over and steals a swipe or two under his nose, while he’s still out.
“C’mere,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts him closer. “You’re a mess.”
Clark scrunches his features a bit at the attention, not quite awake. He’s getting there, especially as Lois checks her clean-up efforts with the brush of her thumb around the edge of his nostril. Back and forth a few times, idly, admiring the unusual softness of his septum as she bumps against it. Only when the rim of his nare twitches and trembles under her touch does she fully realize what she’s doing to him.
Oh… oops.
On the one hand, she’s treated to Clark’s quivery ‘I have to sneeze’ face, which is about as precious as it gets. On the other hand, she should probably give some consideration to damage control.
Does the finger under the nose thing only work in cartoons, she wonders. Does it work on Kryptonians? Either way, she’d feel bad denying him the relief — especially when she’s the one teasing him, however unintentional.
She gets another handful of tissues ready, instead.
Clark squints his eyes open with the first, wavery “—h’uhHH…!” before his breath catches and his chest rises.
“Clark,” she warns, shifting so he can have his other arm. He’s already got one hand clasped clumsily to his face, and is now struggling to sit up and away from her.
“I… I ndeed—…” He starts. The sentence dissolves as he hitches wildly, his eyes squeezing shut, nostrils curling open behind the splay of his fingers.
Whether he’s requesting tissues or alerting her of the imminent explosion, Lois has the same response. She presses her bounty upon him and spreads a hand to his back.
“Here… take these, c’mon. Let it out.”
Maybe she should brace herself, too?
“Uh…!” Clark inhales. He still manages to take the tissues from her, crushing them to his nose and mouth at the last moment.
“HUH’EIDSZSHHHH—-SshhOO!!”
He gets it under the control behind the clap of both hands, for which she’s certainly grateful. Even contained, the strength of the sneeze is enough to make the bed creak dangerously. Lois is almost certain that the whole room shakes, but when she looks up from her instinctive hunch at his back, all of her windows are still intact and the ceiling isn’t falling down around their ears.
Well, that’s a relief. Especially since Clark is already building helplessly towards another.
She keeps a hand pressed beside his spine, feeling the swell of his breath through thick muscle and overwashed cotton. She’s sure he doesn’t need a reminder of her presence or anything. Her interest here is a little more… self-serving than self-preservation. She’s aware that she has very little sense of the latter, she’s been told as much by both Clark and Superman, along with most of the bosses and boyfriends she’s had in her life. She knows.
“Huh…. ! H-EHDTTSSH-sHHHH!”
Yeah. There’s definitely a weird little zing of arousal that shoots through her nervous system as Clark ducks over his lap and sets the bed to rocking. She wasn’t misremembering that from last night, either.
There are several possibilities at play here.
Is Lois in the honeymoon phase where the guy she’s found herself really really caring about got imprisoned, poisoned, and almost squashed by his own clone? Probably yes. She’s just happy to have him here, warm and alive and evacuating strange tech from his lungs beside her. She’ll take Clark in any shape right now.
Is she always a little bit attracted to the display of Superman’s powers, whether he’s fully in control of them or not? Apparently also yes. The second sneeze managed to flutter the sheets, despite his efforts, and it trips an absurd excitement switch in her brain. Maybe it should be fear, and she got her wires crossed somewhere along with that healthy sense of self-preservation.
“Gesundheit,” she offers. So far he’s tapped out after one or two, in her limited experience. Lois can’t be blamed, then, for the surprise surge of horniness when he gasps and dives forward into an uncharacteristic third.
“HD’JZSSHHH–SHHhoo!” And… seriously, another? She must have gotten to him more than she thought. Maybe this is just the result of his body pushing tiny irritants to the surface all night long, while he was unconscious. Clark is bent away from her now, but Lois can picture his crumpled expression just fine as he inhales at a shaky, broken clip. She swallows.
“H-h-h… --hd’DjjJSZHHH-shhuh!”
The strength of his response seems to be lessening each time, yet the fire that’s stoking low in her belly is only fueled by the successive eruptions.
“Oh m’by gosh,” Clark sniffles through a heavy sluice of congestion as he finally straightens. His curls are a rumpled mess, eyes watering and nose flushed a bright, wet pink. “…SNFFH! Excuse m’be.”
“Jesus, Clark,” Lois laughs in a reflexive attempt to conceal her arousal as she fetches the tissue box. She puts it in front of him, since he seems relieved enough to manage his own exchange. “Bless you.”
“Thagk’s,” he murmurs on the recovery, dazed and sheepish in equal amounts. Clark makes a slight face at his persistent stuffiness, and plucks another round of tissues to deal with some of it. It takes a few tries, while Lois reaches for her coffee cup and pretends to give him some sort of privacy.
At last, Clark sighs and wrinkles his nose, scrubbing it on the backs of his knuckles.
“Ugh,” he groans. “Sorry, if I woke you. I had the worst tickle.”
Lois shakes her head and sets her cup aside. “You didn’t wake me. Other way around,” she says. Clark pitches the tissues into the trash beside the bed, and she kneel-walks the short distance between them closed. She leans in to test the waters with her lips pressed to his shoulder. “And I think that might have been my fault. It was only… mostly an accident.”
“What’s that?” Clark laughs. One hand is compressing the tip of his nose into a rough pinch between thumb and forefinger, working it back and forth like he’s trying to get an unreachable itch somewhere inside. God, that’s really not helping…
“Nothing,” Lois says quickly.
Clark gives her a curious look, but he drops his hand and accepts her attention without fuss. An arm slips back around her waist, and he ducks readily into the distraction of a follow-up kiss. No hard feelings, then, not that she expected any.
“Good morning,” she adds, once they’ve broken off, both a little flushed and glassy-eyed. Clark especially so. “There’s coffee.”
He smiles. “Is it coffee, or is it high octane mud?”
She narrows her eyes. Brewing it strong is a side-effect of her masochistic relationship with what amounts to hot, rancid bean juice. Her methods don’t always translate to someone who actually likes the taste.
“That’s rude.” She steals another kiss. “I followed the package ratio, just for you.”
His breathy chuckle turns into a twist aside into his shoulder, where he fields a series of light, repetitive coughs. The effort is enough to jostle her against his side. It also drives up her need to pin him down and bite him all over.
“Hg’khmm, sorry,” Clark exhales afterwards. He leans without resistance into her hands combing back through his hair, the assertive kiss she presses to his temple.
“Don’t be. Maybe I should make you some tea, instead,” she hums. “With honey.”
He groans, then pulls back to peer at her. His big blue eyes are limned with tears and warmed with a haze of pink irritation. “I promise I’m not sick. This is just…” He makes a loose, helpless gesture to his general upper body. Yeah.
Lois valiantly resists the urge to smooch the tip of his nose, sensing that it might be disastrous. She settles instead for the brush of her thumbs across his cheeks.
“... crud?” She suggests. It earns her another laugh-turned-cough, his head turned away in time. This one he manages in just a few beats before he’s swallowing and nodding.
“Yeah, sure. Fight crud.”
There are sexier ways to put it, of course. Sadly, it really is working for her no matter what she calls it.
“I know,” Lois says. “But it might help your throat anyway.”
His gaze flicks over her face, seeming surprised.
She must have said something right, because in the next second Clark has her buoyed into his lap as if she weighs nothing at all. To him, that’s true. The transition pulls a short, sharp gasp of delight from her, and Lois is too pleased to be embarrassed about it. Instead, her arms wind around his shoulders while Clark boosts her up and puts his mouth to her neck.
Okay, good. This is good. They’re on a similar trajectory here after all.
Lois scratches her nails across his nape, smiling as she feels his full-body shiver in response. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, breathless and still sounding a bit stuffy, his huge frame warm and solid beneath the arch of her own. “That does sound good, actually. But… in a minute…?”
Lois nods. Caffeine can wait. The rest of the world can wait. They’ve barely had any time to themselves the last few days, and she wants him.
His teeth find her collar and she gasps again, her hands sweeping up into his hair for fingerfuls of loose curls. Bearing down into his lap grinds her against his cock, still stiff and wanting from either a good dream or her slow build of kisses. The meandering, sleepy morning intimacy is some of the rarest kind, for them, but she’s been thinking about it for… well. Since she knew he wasn’t going to die, anyway.
“Can I assume that you’re feeling better otherwise?” Lois murmurs as she rocks her hips down into him. It draws a low groan from her partner, his fingers flexing against her thighs and riding up under the edges of her soft linen shorts.
“I–… I feel great.”
Lois's smile sharpens. “And you’re up for some more rigorous physical activity?”
“Yes,” his voice cracks on the word, which only makes her want to hear it again. She can’t tell if his glazed look is all from arousal, or if there’s still a fuzzy urge to sneeze in there somewhere. The expressions are remarkably similar, which is something she’s going to have to unpack later, with the rest of all this.
Not now, though.
She smooths his hair back, even as he ducks under her jaw so she can’t see his face when he sniffles. This time it takes greater effort, like he’s trying to curtail something. The sudden show of bashfulness is not helping her desire to pounce at all. Neither is the return of his normal, low baritone after a careful throat clear. “I just… uhm…”
“Clark,” she laughs, hoping she reads him right. She rubs the back of his neck. “You can tap out to sneeze and blow your nose, you know. I don’t care.”
His shoulders relax a little, suggesting that some of his anxiety was indeed tied to that. Ridiculous. This man can move literal mountains.
“In fact, remember when I said that you were kind of cute like this?” Clark looks up from between the valley of their bodies, eyes a brilliant blue.
“Very.”
Her brows raise, amused. “What?”
“You said I was very cute.”
Lois pushes herself off his shoulders to get a better view of him, bleary and wavering a bit around the edges. Oh, he’s definitely fending off another sneeze. The way her pulse picks up at this is also patently ridiculous. That he can probably see her heart beat faster inside her own thoracic cavity is an eerie reality that she doesn’t always like to think about. In the moment, that sureness only bolsters her confidence.
He’s kind of hard to lie to, after all.
“Okay, well I’m upgrading you to ‘weirdly sexy’.”
He splutters a laugh. “That’s an upgrade?” Clark sniffles hard enough to inspire a cough. He gets a hand up to contain it – even so Lois can still feel a burst of air escape between them.
Clark doesn’t seem to notice, but Lois is biting her lip and fighting not to squirm off his lap as she feels it rush across the tops of her thighs. Good God…
“Now I know you’re… SNDFFH! You’re m’bessi’g with mbe. Ugh…”
Lois resists the urge to roll her eyes. Nevermind, maybe she could have kept him going as long as she wanted.
Clark switches the cover of his hand to a fitful rub against his nose. It appears successful at heading off the sneeze, which is a pity. The effort produces an audible click of his fingers itching at the edges of his nostrils, and Lois can’t tell if it’s her pulse or his throbbing so hard between their hips. She’s still ridiculously turned on by all the set dressing of the moment even without the actual discharge to follow, it seems.
“Alright, you be the judge,” Lois smirks. Her hand slips down over the large, sprawling shape of his own where it supports her. She redirects his fingers up over the waistband of her shorts, then down her midline until he finds the drenched and eager heat.
“Oo–kay,” Clark exhales. “Oh wow, you’re…” He’s dropped the other hand away from his face to help brace her. Likely for personal reasons as well, with the way one palm effortlessly cups her ass. He swallows with the nudge of his fingertips threatening to breach her entrance, but not quite… not quite. His whole hand spans the length of her instead, almost reverent. “I’mb uh– SNFF!” He gazes at her and oh yes, there’s definitely enamored awe there. “Happy to stand corrected.”
Satisfied, Lois sinks down on his hand and gasps as he angles it just right. He lets her grind against the meat of his palm, bearing as much weight as she wants to give him. Delicious strain sings up through the muscles of her abdomen. There are many applications of enhanced strength in bed, as it turns out. Being a willing recipient of anything she can dole out is just as exciting as when he takes a more dominant role. Moreso, really.
Especially when he’s like this.
“Ssshit, okay… yes. Right there,” Lois breathes, twinging as she finally feels his middle and ring finger press up into her. She rocks into his hand, almost spasming already with her clothes still on and her stupid, sexy boyfriend barely two knuckles deep. She has both hands braced against his shoulders for balance as she twists into the roll of his thumb over her clit. Again, then again. “Don’t stop.”
She nearly makes good on her earlier thoughts of biting him, when Clark suddenly maneuvers his hand away, gripping below her thigh with his slicked up fingers. She half-bucks into the emptiness of his absent touch, groaning. “Clark.”
“I know,” he rumbles, voice gravelled from either arousal or the increasingly persistent sniffling he’s doing, the wet and urgent little sounds that are underscoring her own. “Just… is it the sndee–...?!”
Her breath catches almost at the same time Clark’s does. Lois gets a second to process his watery expression, and eases back down into his lap with a thrill of anticipation.
He gets ahold of himself with a shaking exhale, but she can tell from his dopey look that the urge hasn’t gone far. “... hhhuh. SNDF! The sndeezing? B’cause I m’bight ha–aaave to…”
No shit, Lois thinks to herself. At the same time, though, she feels her heart constrict with ferocious affection for this man who wants to know more, do more, make it the best experience for her possible because any other option really hasn’t occurred to him.
“I think so,” she does her best to answer, while she’s still deliriously horny and Clark is obviously trying not to sneeze. “I haven’t really examined it myself, yet.” Lois frowns as she watches him raise a shaky hand to his faze, focus fizzling out. “Just don’t…!”
Too late. Clark keeps her secured with one hand, but the other crushes his nose shut the moment he draws a sudden, gusting inhale. She swears she can even see the ends of her hair pick up, before…
“H’INGGKK’Ttt–uhhh…!”
Calamity. Or… it probably would be at this range, if Clark hadn’t held it in so tightly. The tide of guilt lapping up over her is still secondary to the lust that surges in like a flash flood.
As it is, the suppressed strength of it rushing through his body jogs her hard in place. Lois feels herself actually leave his lap, bounced for a fraction of an inch and a second of pure exhilaration. She doesn’t hear any resounding crashes in the background, suggesting that he’s managed to contain the tail end of it as well. She’s barely paying attention to collateral damage anyway. She nearly climaxes from that alone, just feeling his shoulders and thighs shake beneath her. She’d be a definite goner if she were still riding his fingertips.
“Bless you,” she groans in her daze. That’s becoming a reflex too. Lois has never once in her life been a casual blesser, but it would feel somehow criminal not to say it to Clark.
He can’t respond anyway, because he’s not done. Of course he’s not done.
“Hh-hhh…! NGKT—… ssSHOO!!”
This time, Clark keeps both hands on her hips and throws his head to one side, scrunching his features into it and only half-hiding the display behind his arm. The hands-free stifle isn’t quite so patented a technique, and Lois is aware of the curtains flaring up on the edge of her vision, whipping in the backdraft. There’s a clatter of something hitting the floor that doesn’t sound important. She pushes up into his hands, arching like an animal in heat.
His thumbs press against her hipbones, the two smallest points that keep her from climbing him like a tree while he sniffles through a punchdrunk recovery.
“Don’t what…?” He musters at last.
It could be that she's a little punchdrunk too. Lois blinks down at him. “What?”
Clark squints, turning into his bicep to half-cover a few coughs. “You said ‘just don’t’ and then’d I…snfSNF!”
“Oh.” She sits deeper against his pelvis, feeling the heat of his erection pressed close. She’d like to get to that very soon. She trails her hands down her arms in the meantime, now that she doesn’t need them for balance. “I meant don’t hold them in like that. It sounds miserable.”
Clark sniffs, and sniffs again. It no longer sounds like he’s moving much air or congestion, just trying and failing to maintain some sort of constant drip homeostasis.
“It looks worse than it is, I promise.”
Lois gives him a skeptical look. “Do you hear yourself?”
To her surprise Clark laughs full and open, despite the chastisement and his obvious discomforts. The sound warms her from within as keenly as his sneezing and sniffling does.
“I do,” he assures her, with a kiss to her throat that softens her right up, the sap for him that she is. She runs her fingers over the back of his neck, scratches her nails up through his hair just so she can feel him shiver when he isn’t trying to tamp down on a hurricane.
“Listen, I’ll try not to,” he sniffs. “But I do have to hold it in sometimes – SNFF! Just. There’s not always better options.” He doesn’t sniffle directly against her skin, but Lois swears she’s going to claw right out of it anyway.
“Point taken,” she swallows. He would know the consequences of his own powers best, something she always inherently trusts him to. The admission of something he knows he can’t control is… that’s doing something for her.
Lois pulls back to consider their position, and presses a kiss to his brow. It brings him to attention nicely – so sweet and present for her. The uptick in his sniffling and half-choked little coughs hasn’t escaped her, the slow distortion in his focus. There are more twinging moments with his nose, too, and have his nostrils always been so expressive? They’re sharply defined, and she’s noticed before that they flare dramatically when he’s upset.
Ugh, how long has she been like this?
Lois also needed him inside of her, like, yesterday. That might have plenty to do with it. She checks her own lust with another kiss, this time daring for the bridge of Clark’s nose. He permits it, apart from the crinkles forming beneath her lips just before she leans back.
“Ssspeaking of which, do you need a break?”
“Nn—…” Clark starts to respond in the dismissive, automatic, then catches himself and lets the thought actually gestate. His nose twitches with a sniffle, eyes fluttering. “…maybe. SNF! Two mbidutes?”
She gives his flank a couple of quick pats, like a faithful horse, and grins when he dumps her unceremoniously back onto the bed. “Take five.”
His dick says he’s up for it, but she’d like for the rest of him to get there, too.
Lois climbs out of bed while he folds himself over the opposite edge of the mattress, tissue box in tow. She makes a mental note to buy more of those, possibly even accounting for bulk purchases within her tiny apartment’s storage space.
Unless… oh, God, how adorable would her ruffled dweeb of a boyfriend be, if she could convince him to carry a handkerchief? She puts a pin in the notion, for later.
Lois slugs the rest of her coffee before it cools to room temperature, then strips herself from her top and bottoms without ceremony. She’s not exactly wearing her sexiest set, and there’s no real point in doing a stripshow for someone with x-ray vision. In the background Clark is already busy, making a valiant effort to levy some of the fallout from his sinuses.
After several attempts to blow his nose, it sounds as if he’s relieved at least some of the burden, leaving him in a tingling and breathy aftermath. Breathy enough to get her attention in full. If he tries to suppress it again…
“I–...”
He starts to say something, but is suddenly overwhelmed with sensation. Clark inhales loud and fast. He clutches the current nest of tissues back to his face, then spasms forward with an intensely muffled sneeze that leaves the windows rattling.
“H’WHFFSZHHHhh-SHOO!!”
Lois jumps, despite having seen it coming.
“Jeez. Can’t ding you for that one,” she says as she crawls back onto the bed, and across the distance between them. Once she’s sure he isn’t going to go again right away. “Gesundheit.”
“Thangks,” he sniffs. “Snduck up on me.” He lowers his head into a last short, amending blow, then pitches the tissues into the trash and rolls back to face her. “I’m good now.”
His gaze travels down, clocking her naked body for the first time. His brows raise. “... really good.”
Lois smirks. She uses the front of his shirt to pull him back into a kiss, which he’s happy to return. When she gives them both a break for air, she switches her grip to pulling the tee up and over his head. Clark lifts his arms to accommodate, then draws her in and begins lavishing attention from a pulsepoint of her throat and wending downwards. She can feel the heat radiating off of his bare chest.
“Fantastic. I’ve got an update for you,” Lois breathes as he presses a kiss to the top of her breastbone.
“Uh-huh?”
She twists her fingers in the curled ends of his hair where it brushes the back of his neck. “It’s definitely the sneezing,” she admits, swallowing. “Not just that. But it’s helping.”
He kisses the center of her stomach, and she debates the merits of pushing him lower, guiding him to the blazing center of her energy. She’s so turned on, it wouldn’t take much. She wants him even closer than that, though.
“Great,” Clark murmurs. He sounds genuinely interested. He’s also planning his path downward, palming and mouthing at hot skin as her hips lift into him. “That’s… SNF! Really good news. What can I do?”
“You can hurry up and fuck me before I go crazy, Kansas.”
His laughter whooshes over her stomach and thighs with a warmth that makes her ache.
“Well, I think I can oblige you there.”
He leans up and over her, not a moment too soon. Lois already has a hand skating down the hard planes of his stomach, dipping below his waistband to encircle the equally stiff heat within. Clark’s breath rushes out of him in a shuddery exhale as she gets a hand around his cock and palms it free.
She gives him a few slow strokes, savoring the feeling of controlling a being so powerful with so little effort. Just her hand where the curve of his thick length fits perfectly in its center, squeezing just a shade tighter than she’d ever dare with a human man.
“God, Lois–....!”
He thrusts shallowly into the fist she gives him, wrapping her fingers around his shaft as tight and far as they’ll go. She’s aware of the faint crackle and catch in his breathing as his chest presses close.
Undeterred, he sinks down into her as she guides him into place. It’s usually a very snug fit – she’s a small woman, and Clark is not a small man. There’s usually a good deal more teasing, of rubbing his erection leisurely across her dripping sex, kissing her breasts, mumbling the most ridiculous country-ism praises she’s ever heard. No matter how many times they’ve done this, regardless of her can-do attitude, there’s still an adjustment period. Right now she’s wet and ready enough that the glide is almost frictionless.
“Oh,” she pants out when he’s fully seated inside her with so little effort. She claws at his back while acclimating to his size, his closeness, and the reality of her primal cravings being answered. “Wow, okay. Hi,” Lois breathes, and kisses his shoulder. “Missed you.”
She gets a kiss smushed to her temple in turn, and the press of his cock bottoming out as far as she can accommodate. The burn of stretching and entry becomes an ache, which becomes a pulse that throbs white light and pleasure up through her core every time he moves.
“Missed you too.”
Lois didn’t want to admit it, in case things didn’t work out, and she doesn’t want to be hyperbolic here either. Still, sex with Clark has probably ruined her for every other man on Earth.
He is the only metahuman she’s slept with, but she sees no reason to expand her repertoire at this point. It’s also only partly due to his superior strength and stamina. Moreso it’s because Clark holds and touches and fucks her like she’s the only person on Earth. Being in the epicenter of his focus and adoration is a powerful drug.
If anything, she has to bully him away from being too careful with her, sometimes. It’s better than the alternative, though, and Clark is a responsive lover in every sense. They find their rhythms quickly and easily.
“Hhhyou feel so good,” he huffs against her neck, where his breath sticks to and then dries her sweat almost as soon as it forms. He’s like a handy, built-in HVAC system. In the stickiest and swamp-ass months of summer that was actually quite helpful for their intimacy, versus rutting near her geriatric window unit air conditioner. The memory of sprawling in bed like a princess while he exhaled cool air across her body and touched her slow and sweet is one of her favorites.
Where is she going to find that convenience in a human man?
Not that she’d be forcing him to do any tricks for her in this state. Even having recently evacuated a fresh round of nanites from his system, Lois can hear Clark sniffling and panting on the threatening edge of more.
It’s hard to form thoughts when he keeps rocking on the edge of her sweet spot at the same time, but Lois manages to pull herself back from the event horizon of pleasure to check in, breathless.
“You okay?” She presses her mouth to his neck, then gives into the urge for a little nip. Clark’s hips jerk into her with a grunt. “Need a break?”
Clark shakes his head, curls scattered loose in his eyes. He looks beautiful like this, tear streaks starting to shine across his cheeks. He sniffles again, heavy, then turns his head over the barrier of his arm and coughs freely.
Lois feels the blankets tug off the loose tangle of their legs. The involuntary lung squeeze manages to spasm his entire body against her, inside her, and she juts up with an involuntary cry of her own. Fuck, that’s good.
She can see the advantage of this position for multiple reasons, now. Usually she’s on top, although they both enjoy variety. Being pinned beneath him, with his arm propped on either side of her, gives him a little more freedom to redirect the ongoing nanite management. There’s less fear of either harm or just… sneezing them down onto her like this.
Actually, the jury is out on that possibility and her reaction. She might be okay with it. She can’t think over the stretch and the rhythm that makes her brain want to turn off and just ride the waves of rapture.
“Im’b good. Just… SNFF! Godda… snff! …s-sneeze.”
He says the word in such a casual hush, between thrusts, that she feels like she’s mishearing him. Possibly flirting the line of sanity here, but very much paying attention now.
“Should I–... ahh-h, should I… move?”
She really hopes she’s not expected to, somehow, when he’s currently almost knocking on her liver. Rolling her hips up still gets him to respond with more of those short, shallow strokes that build pleasure rapidly inside her.
“N’do, just… SNF! … s-sstay…”
Lois locks her ankles around his legs as she feels his trunk expand with an escalating draw. Not her first close-range sneeze, but it feels like he’s about to… like she’s about to…
She did ask for this. Lois feels the blankets catch, pull, and take riotous flight in the backdraft, his sneeze discharged somewhere past the shield of an arm and shoulder curled around her. Something heavy hits the opposite wall. She feels the natural thrust of his body like he’s trying to spear her into the mattress, deep and tight and hot. A shockwave seems to start almost from her toes and radiate higher.
“Clark…!”
He barely gets time to breathe in from the first explosion, feeling her clench tight. She’s gone by the second sneeze that barrels out of him and into the bedding.
“GZZSHSHHH–SSshoo!”
It’s loud and desperate and close enough to make her ears ring.
The crest of orgasm breaks over her, crashing like a wavefall across her body as her nails dig into his arm. If she whimpers or if she screams, Lois isn’t sure. She could be squawking like an endangered toucan and neither she nor Clark would care right now. Her hips drive up into him in an aching undulation, drawing out her unraveling euphoria as long as she can.
She’s so busy chasing the last curls of pleasure, trying to drag him over with her, that she barely notices Clark’s recovery from the last, violent sneeze. He doesn’t have much of one, locked instead into an open grimace that she only observes when her spasms start to ease.
“Clark…” She breathes, barely a whisper.
He’s an impressive sight with nostrils open at full flare, the pearl-white tips of his teeth showing beneath an expression curled with torturous irritation. That tickle must truly be a monster…
“HURRESSSHZHHH-SHHhhoo!!”
The sneeze whips past them, crashing or blustering through whatever is in its path. She can still tell that he’s letting them go with a fraction of his strength, since there are no obliterated walls or spewing water lines in their wake. Meanwhile, Lois can’t decided if she’s even fully come down from her first orgasm when the second rips her off her moorings.
His too, judging by the way Clark goes suddenly, critically stiff above her. Tiny, controlled ripples down his spine push him into Lois as she feels him twitch inside, feels heat begin to spill deep within. He fills her up and up into overflowing as she rides him with every scrappy inch of her human enthusiasm, letting herself come and come apart, wrung out on his cock until she can’t take more.
At some point, when her blind, surging rush of dopamine and oxytocin have begun to gradually subside, Lois becomes aware that he’s either pulled or slipped out. Clark spends the last few rounds of his orgasm across her inner thighs.
He’s watching the mess through tear-glazed eyes, nose red as he fights for breath harder than she’s seen him after altercations with twelve story tall killer robots. He reaches down to fist himself through the final spasms, then sinks back… not unlike a collapsing kaiju, actually.
Lois gets her arms out of the way before he hits the mattress beside her with a whumpf. The pair of them bask there in a post-coital bliss that’s nearly a coma. She watches him catch his breath and enjoys the rare emptiness and peace that comes from having every last thought fucked out of her head.
Slowly, the tinnitus in her ears fades, and the blurry edges of Lois’s world narrow back to the man sharing her bed.
Clark is sprawled on his side, gazing at her with unchecked esteem in his starry blue eyes. His devotion feels like it’s still penetrating her, even when his prick is going gradually soft against his thigh.
Not that that matters. Kryptonian refractory periods are shorter than even Earth women. Most of the time she and Clark match up nicely for rounds two, three, and so on. Right now, she just wants to cuddle him.
“God bless you,” she says, stretching a hand down. She strokes his forehead with the backs of her knuckles, the only part of him she can reach without moving too much. His eyelashes flutter shut like she’s giving him the sweetest and most thorough petting in the world.
“Thank you, Miss Lane.”
Oh, God damn him. He knows exactly when to spring that on her to do the most damage. Lois fights the urge to shiver.
Clark is back to staring up at her. “You were really into all that?”
Lois snorts, regaining a few sparks of energy as she makes a flapping, come-hither gesture at him with both hands. Clark looks at her through a similar haze of exhaustion. He inches closer like the world’s saddest, most sniffly superpowered caterpillar until she groans and forces herself upright.
“Get over here. Was I turned on by you hacking and sniffling and sneezing your big beautiful head off? Of course I was.” She pulls him down against and atop her, slumping his not-inconsiderable weight across her ribs. “Oofh.” She buries a kiss in his hair. It’s satisfyingly fluffy after all the exertions. And some of the stray gusts. “Either that, or I’m a really incredible actor. I even had myself fooled.”
Clark laughs, shaking her a little. Shaking her more when he makes himself cough. “Hk-KHMM, ‘scuse me.” He takes the bulk of his weight onto an arm as he pushes up, leaning to kiss her. She pulls him in for more. “That’s fantastic,” he sighs, when they break. “But I really, really need to blow my nose. Can I…” He pats a palm to her arm twice, lightly, and she lets him up without a second thought.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
He only taps out as long as it takes to empty the rest of the tissue box. Lois closes her eyes and lets him work through it. She’s pleased when he returns and does all the moving hereon out, in fact.
Pulling her towards him, Clark draws Lois atop his body, cleaned up and back at full stretch. For all of the impressive muscles, there’s just enough squish to him that he’s surprisingly comfortable to lounge upon. Very good to hug. Lois can tell from the weightless, nearly imperceptible bob that they’re also in mid-air, floating a few inches above the bed. She rests her head on his chest and ragdolls with contentment, listening to the improved sound of his breathing.
“I think that actually, finally cleared my head,” Clark admits. He sniffles for emphasis, and there is indeed much less drag on it now. His voice still has a slight, resinous cling, but from what she understands his lungs took the worst of it to begin with. “Thank you.”
Lois smiles against him, feeling warm inside. “I’m glad. I mean.” She tilts her head up and presses her lips to the rough underside of his jaw. “Bad news for me, I suppose. But you needed it.” The man deserves to breathe clearly after the week he’s had.
She also deserved to get thoroughly dicked down after the week she’s had, so Lois considers it a fair trade.
“I wouldn’t be too disappointed,” Clark chuckles. He cups her shoulder with one hand, steadying her in place while he adjusts himself effortlessly in their float. “This was very enlightening.” When he sniffles, it’s much closer to the shell of her ear than before. Lois trembles against him, toes curling.
“Yeah, well. Don’t get it twisted. That might have been a one time thing because I was so happy to have you in one piece, or whatever.” She’s lying, obviously. If anything, she’s giving him more ammunition as he smiles and noses gently behind her ear.
“Sure, okay,” he grins. “Then you won’t care that I’m allergic to cats, and that I always hold my breath when you put pepper on your turkey sandwiches?”
She shudders again. “God damn it, Kent. That’s not true.” Lois pushes herself up onto his chest, looking down at him. She has a leg straddled to either side of his torso, hanging down in mid air. They’ve fucked like this before, Clark on his back and untethered by gravity, arms folded cockily behind his head. Not that she’s thinking about that now, or anything.
“Is it? Don’t tease me.”
She’s sore and stretched out and still has what feels like a bucketful of his cum wanting to leak out of her, but Lois could go again. Shower off their sins before the world needs them and....
Clark shrugs. He takes one of her hands resting on his chest, framing where his emblem would be, and brings the backs of her fingers to his mouth. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The romantic filter over her field of view finally widens, past the heart bubbles and lustful haze to her bed beneath them.
The room itself actually isn’t in too bad a shape – nothing that he can’t clean up by the time she’s poured his first cup of coffee. Lois can throw some spackle on the rest. She’s also pleased to see that her mattress and pillows have survived, even if they did get blown into the shattered mirror.
The fitted sheet, on the other hand… well. It will probably wash out, she’s sure it will, but Lois is startled to a sharp and bleating laugh at the absurdity of the scene. From somewhere near the head of the mattress and streaking nearly to the foot, there is a whalespout spray of dark, metallic pinpoints striking at range and dispersing outward. Was that his last sneeze, and the last of the nanobots along with it? It must be. It looks like when one of the interns loses a fight with the toner cartridges, at the Planet.
Okay, well now she really is cackling, head thrown back and fully enjoying it regardless of how pink his cheeks get in response.
“So, I was going to warn you. I’ll replace them.”
“Oh, my God.” Lois grins, wild, but she only inches up and over him so she can dip towards his mouth. “No wonder you feel better.” She keeps breaking off into runs of giggles between kisses. Clark does not seem to actually mind being the source of her amusement. Or he doesn’t mind enough to fend her off, anyway, as she rains affection down on him.
“You know what,” she says, peering past his shoulder to the impressive spread of micro-irritants below. It’s like a shiny soot print of his sneeze. “There’s something wrong with me, because that’s still pretty hot.”
“Stop it,” he grumbles, pinching the tip of his nose.
“I’m serious,” Lois laughs. “I like it.” She fights past his hand to capture his mouth, however briefly he lets her take possession. Clark waits to sniffle until she’s pulled away again. “But listen, while we’re up…” Very… literally up in the air. She lets him appreciate her pun with a begrudging smirk before she continues. “... and until a flying dog comes crashing onto my balcony, I’d like to open the discussion for round two.”
Clark makes a face. “Lois. Come on. Why would you invoke him?” That he doesn’t immediately startle and bolt off to check on a forgotten pooch suggests that the day’s responsibilities aren’t far from his mind either. However… “And what’s to discuss? I’m already game. SNF!”
Lois grins. She leans down to kiss him once more. “Discussion closed, then. All in favor – hey!” She breaks off with a laugh as he pulls her close and into a crushing embrace, with the kind of restraint that suggests Clark is also suffering from cute aggression with his partner. She manages to free one of her arms to wrap around him in turn.
“Fine, tough guy. Then I’ve got a few more things I want to try, before the world figures out where you are.”
He’s already kissing up the side of her neck to make good on his word, a hand tangling in her hair.
“Sure, me too,” he chuckles. “Looking forward to it.”
