randomgirl

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!” 

Slowly, they make their way out of the water.

“hh-eghh’shoo! ehh’shoo!”

“Bless you!”

“hh-ehh’shch! hgshch! ehh’shoo!”

“Easy, big guy.”

“hpshch! eghh’shoo! hp’shoo! iiighh-shoo! Ehh’shch!”

“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.

“But…but…gshsh! hgsh-uh! gshsh-uh! hhh-ehh’PTCH! ahh’hpsh!” 

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. 

“S-Sorry– hhh-eghh’shoo!”

Candles and Incense

Marlie pushed open the door with a bright smile, the little bell above it jingling softly as she stepped into the apartment. Her arms were full, carrying a bag brimming with small packages, and a few of the items were already peeking out, candles of deep purple and black, small ornate trinkets, and a bundle of herbs wrapped in twine.

“Ligo! You won’t believe what I found today!” she called, her voice buzzing with excitement as she set the bags down on the coffee table. Her brown eyes were wide and sparkling as she began unpacking her treasures, carefully lifting each item and turning it over in her hands to show him.

Caligo was reclining on the couch, one arm draped casually over the backrest, amber eyes following her every movement with quiet amusement. His gaze softened as he took in the sight of her animated expression, the way she practically glowed with enthusiasm, even after the trying days of his illness.

“You look… pleased with yourself,” he murmured, voice low, teasing, yet gentle.

“Oh, I am!” Marlie said, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pulled out a tall black candle etched with silver runes. “Look at this one! I thought it’d be perfect for… well, for our little rituals, or even just to make the room smell nice.”

She set it on the table with care, then reached into the bag again and produced a small glass vial filled with dried lavender buds.

“And these! We can use them for incense or charms. I thought they’d be really calming.”

Caligo’s eyes flickered with interest as she continued her excited presentation. She pulled out a packet of patchouli incense sticks. She opened it and took out a long stick, holding it up with a triumphant flourish.

“And this,” she said, lighting it carefully. “Is going to make the whole place smell so earthy and grounding. You’ve got to smell this, Ligo—it’s amazing.”

She placed the stick in a small, ornate holder, and as the incense began to smoke, the rich, musky aroma curled through the room. Caligo inhaled slowly, amber eyes narrowing just slightly as he savored the scent.

“Hmm,” he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. “That… is actually quite pleasant. Very earthy, very grounding indeed. I can see why you were so excited.”

Marlie laughed softly, twirling on her heels to take in the sight of him watching her, and then sat beside him on the couch. She reached over to tuck a strand of his long black hair behind his ear, her fingers lingering just slightly.

“I’m just glad you’re here to enjoy it with me,” she said, her tone softening. “I was thinking of you while I picked everything out—things that would make you feel… calm, and safe, and a little spoiled, maybe.”

He shifted slightly so his shoulder brushed against hers, amber eyes warm and tender. “You always think of me, don’t you, darling?” he murmured, voice low. “Even in small things like incense and candles. You spoil me too much sometimes.”

She grinned, brushing her fingers along his forearm.

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but you deserve it. And besides, it’s fun. I love bringing little pieces of magic home, especially when I know we can share it.”

Caligo leaned back slightly, tilting his head toward the ceiling as he inhaled the scent again, letting it fill his senses.

“Then it seems,” he said softly, "That my banishment has at least one small blessing."

He glanced down at her, amber eyes softening with affection, and let out a low, amused hum.

She leaned against him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder as the patchouli incense curled around them, warm and grounding.

*

A little while later, Marlie and Caligo lay together on the bed, limbs tangled comfortably, her head resting against his chest. He absently traced small patterns along her arm, amber eyes softened in contentment.

Suddenly, her breath hitched. She cupped her palm over her nose and mouth.

“Hhkshhh!” She sneezed sharply, curling slightly against him.

Caligo’s head lifted just enough to look down at her, concern flickering across his features.

“Marlie… are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, amber eyes warm and attentive.

She shrugged, brushing it off with a faint, teasing smile, though her nose was already twitching again.

“I’m fine, Ligo… just a tickle, that’s all.”

But as if to prove the point, another sneeze erupted almost immediately, followed by another.

“Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Hhheeshhoo!”

Caligo’s eyes widened slightly, and without a second thought, he reached over and gently took her hand, bringing her black lace handkerchief to her nose.

“Here,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. “Don’t fight it, love. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

Marlie’s shoulders lifted and trembled as another sneeze caught her, and Caligo rubbed slow, reassuring circles along her back with one hand while keeping the handkerchief steady with the other.

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered, pressing his forehead lightly against the side of hers. “Just breathe and sneeze as much as you need.”

Another two sneezes came, soft but persistent.

“Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Heshhoo!”

Caligo’s thumb stroked along the curve of her cheek, gentle and steady, keeping her anchored.

“Good girl,” he murmured between sneezes. “That’s it. Perfect. Let it all out.”

Another quick sneeze wracked her shoulders, and Caligo held her closer, rubbing circles along her spine and murmuring soothing words.

“That’s okay, darling… just sneeze. I’m right here.”

By the time the sneezing fit subsided, Marlie’s nose was pink, her breath still uneven, but her eyes sparkled with warmth and amusement. Caligo brushed a strand of hair from her face, smiling down at her.

“You’re better now?” he asked gently, still cradling her in his arms.

She nodded, leaning into his chest with a soft sigh.

“Wow," She said, as though she couldn't quite wrap her head around what just happened. "Snnfff. Much better… thanks to you, Ligo.”

He smiled, pressing another kiss to her temple.

“Always, sweetheart. I’ll always take care of you—just like you took care of me.”

And there, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the room, the lingering scent of incense, and the warmth of each other’s arms, they settled into the comfortable, comforting closeness of shared care and affection.

*

A few minutes of quiet passed, the soft curl of patchouli smoke filling the room and their shared warmth settling around them like a gentle blanket. Marlie’s head rested against Caligo’s chest, and he was lazily tracing small circles along her arm, amber eyes soft and relaxed. But then, almost imperceptibly at first, her breath began to hitch.

Her nose twitched subtly, and she lifted a hand to cover it instinctively. Caligo immediately noticed, his eyes widening slightly as he leaned closer.

“Marlie… are you feeling—?” His question was cut off as her first sneeze erupted.

“Haa-eeetchooo! Heshhhiiiieww!”

Caligo was instantly attentive, his long, lean body shifting so he could hold her comfortably. He pressed a hand gently to her back, stroking slow, reassuring circles, while his other hand grabbed the black lace handkerchief and held it carefully over her nose.

“Darling, it’s okay… let it out. Don’t fight it,” he murmured, voice low and steady, his concern laced with affection.

Marlie’s sneezing continued in a rapid rhythm, each one soft but persistent.

“Huhh...TSHHuhh! Hhheshhhoo! Snfff! Guh. Wh-why can't I stuhhh...stop...aahuuuhh... Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh!”

Caligo’s thumb moved to brush the tip of her nose lightly as he held the handkerchief steady, making sure it didn’t slip. His brow furrowed slightly, and he glanced at her with a flicker of worry.

“Sweet girl… you don’t feel feverish, do you? Are you getting sick?”

Marlie managed a shaky laugh between sneezes, her cheeks pink and eyes sparkling despite the fit.

“No… no, Ligo,” she said, her voice breathless but cheerful. “I feel okay—honestly. It’s just… this sneezing, and maybe a slight headache.”

Caligo’s amber eyes softened at her reassurance, though the worry didn’t fully leave them. He pressed his forehead gently to hers, letting her feel the steady beat of his concern.

“A headache, hm?” he murmured. “I don’t like hearing that. You’ve got to let me take care of you properly, sweetheart. Don’t hide how you feel.”

Marlie shook her head slightly, still caught between laughter and the ticklish aftershocks of sneezing.

“I’m not snfff hiding it,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her dampened face. “It’s just… not a big deal. Honestly. I feel… fine otherwise.”

Caligo gave a small hum of acknowledgment, but he remained close, his hands cradling her as he continued to rub comforting circles along her back.

“Fine, hmm… well, fine enough to let me fuss over you a little, yes?” he teased gently, his voice warm but still carrying the edge of protective care.

Marlie smiled, leaning against him, enjoying the weight of his presence and the careful, loving attention.

“Of course,” she murmured, her brown eyes soft. “I wouldn’t want you to stop.”

*

Caligo’s amber eyes softened as he leaned closer, taking in the little signs of her sneezing fit—the watery glimmer in her brown eyes, her flushed cheeks, and the tiny red marks around her nose from all the sniffles. His long, clawed fingers moved with gentle care as he brushed one hand over her cheek, thumb tracing slow, comforting circles, grounding her in the warmth of his touch.

Then, almost playfully, he lowered the tip of one of his nails to the bridge of her nose, tracing a delicate line down toward the tip. Marlie’s nose twitched under his touch, the smallest, involuntary wiggle that made him pause for a heartbeat, just to admire the reaction.

She let out a small, breathless laugh despite the lingering sniffles, and her hands instinctively came up to rest against his chest.

“Ligo… you’re probably going to make me sneeze again,” she warned softly, her voice teasing even as it carried a hint of caution.

Caligo’s lips curved into a slow, mischievous smile, amber eyes twinkling with quiet affection.

“Is that so, sweet girl?” he murmured, leaning in just a fraction closer, careful not to press too hard. “Maybe… but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Marlie pressed a small, sniffly smile against him, letting out a soft little sigh.

“You’re impossible,” she whispered, tilting her head slightly as her nose wiggled again under the gentle trace of his claw.

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek again to steady her, while the tip of his claw hovered lightly over the bridge of her nose.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, voice low and tender, “but seeing you smile like that… even when you’re sneezy, it’s worth it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she leaned into his touch, eyes crinkling in amusement and affection.

“You’re terrible,” she said between small snuffles, “but… I don’t mind.”

Caligo’s grin softened into something warmer, more tender, as he rested his forehead lightly against hers.

“I’ll take that as permission, darling,” he murmured, continuing to stroke her cheek and trace gentle lines along her nose, careful and slow, letting her feel safe even as the ticklish sensation threatened another sneeze.

*

The tickle peaked again, rising from the tip of her nose up through her sinuses, and Marlie’s breath hitched sharply. Her little wiggles made Caligo’s amber eyes glint with mischief, though his expression was softened with concern and affection.

“It’s okay, darling,” he murmured, his long fingers still tracing gently along the bridge of her nose. “Go ahead and sneeze. Let it out.”

Marlie’s lips curved into a small, teasing smile, and she pressed herself closer to him, pressing her forehead against his chest.

“No-hiiuhh!! N-not yet,” she whispered, almost breathless, her nose twitching under his gentle touch. “I… I want to hohhh!!Snnfff! Ho-hold it juhhh...just a little luh-hiihhh! L-longer.”

Caligo raised an eyebrow, a slow, playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh? Is that so, sweet girl?” His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek again, tracing a soothing line down to her jaw. “Trying to tease me while you’re sneezy, are you?”

She gave a soft, almost imperceptible shake of her head, eyes sparkling despite the ticklish sensation.

“Maybe,” she admitted, her hitching breaths increasing as she tried to speak. “But I… I lihhh! I like feehh...feee-heehh!! Feeling you so close. I want to… s-savor this moment a little.”

His smile softened, amber eyes warm and tender as he leaned his forehead lightly against hers.

“Then savor it, darling,” he murmured. “But don’t fight too long… I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Marlie wiggled her nose under his touch, feeling the tickle intensify, but she pressed her lips together, holding it back as long as she could. Her small, playful defiance made his grin widen, though a low, amused chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“You’re impossible,” he said, brushing her hair back from her forehead. “Teasing me like this when I just want to take care of you.”

Her eyes crinkled in a watery, adorable smile.

“Maybe I juhh-just like seeing that l-look on yohhh! Huh! Huuhh! Snffff! That look on your face,” she murmured, the tickle now almost unbearable. “The one that sahhh...says you know I’m gohh...guuhh...snnnffff! Going to snee-hihhh!-sneeze soon, and you’re helpless about it.”

Caligo’s fingers lingered along the bridge of her nose, hovering with affectionate patience.

“Helpless… yes,” he murmured softly, voice low and tender. “But I don’t mind. Not when it’s you, sweet girl.”

Her breath hitched again, just at the edge of the inevitable, and she leaned into his chest, eyes half-closed, feeling the warmth of his touch and the quiet intimacy of the moment as the tickle surged through her.

*

Marlie’s breath hitched violently, and she finally couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Oh-hohh, Gods, it tihh...tickles s-muhhh...so much! Ligo, I cahhh...I c-can't hold...hold it baahhh...back anymore. I- AatSHHhh’uhh! Hhh’eshhh’oo! Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Hhh’SHhh’uhh!”

The sneezes rattled through her, shaking her small frame, and she pressed a hand to her nose as a little stream of snot ran down to her upper lip and tears streamed down her face, leaving her cheeks pink and damp.

Caligo immediately moved, his long, lean hands gentle but precise. He pressed her soft black lace hankie to her nose, careful not to jostle her too much, and murmured soothingly.

“It’s alright, sweet girl. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

Once the fit subsided, he handed the hankie to her, amber eyes full of tender concern.

“Here… blow your nose, darling,” he instructed softly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her flushed face.

Marlie sniffled, holding the hankie over her nose, and the sound of a long, wet blow filled the quiet room. She gave a small, teasing glance up at him once she’d wiped herself clean.

“Well,” she said lightly, voice still a little thick from sniffles. “I guess that’s one way to spend the afternoon.”

Caligo shook his head slowly, exhaling a soft, amused sigh as he ran a hand along her shoulder.

“What on earth is making you sneeze so much?” he asked, voice a mixture of disbelief and concern.

Marlie tilted her head thoughtfully, still dabbing at her nose.

“I don’t know…” she said softly, lowering the hankie. Then a small smile tugged at her lips, mischievous despite the lingering sniffles.

“Maybe we should… find out.”

Caligo raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.

“Find out? How exactly do you plan on investigating this, sweet girl?”

Marlie pushed herself upright, reaching for the nightstand and gathering a few of the candles she’d recently brought home. Her fingers paused over the incense sticks, the patchouli and lavender scents mingling faintly in the air.

“Well,” she said, still a little sniffly. “We could set up a little… experiment. Candles, incense… maybe I’ll figure out what’s making me so sneezy.”

Caligo watched her carefully, a small, affectionate smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he murmured, amber eyes following her every move. “A sneezy little human, surrounded by candles and incense, determined to solve the mystery of her own sneezes. I suppose I should help, shouldn’t I?”

Marlie grinned, already arranging the candles in a careful semi-circle on the nightstand and lining up the incense packets.

“Of course, Ligo. You get to assist the brilliant investigator,” she teased, giving him a wink even as another little sniffle escaped her.

Caligo chuckled softly, amber eyes warm.

“Very well, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

And with that, the two of them settled into the soft, fragrant glow of candlelight and incense smoke, side by side on the bed, ready to unravel the curious little mystery of Marlie’s sudden, relentless sneezing.

*

Caligo picked up the small rose-scented candle, amber eyes flicking toward Marlie as he held it carefully under her nose.

“Try this, sweet girl,” he murmured, his long fingers steady and gentle. The candle’s wax was still warm from being lit, the soft scent curling into the air around them.

Marlie leaned forward, taking a deep, measured breath. Her nose twitched faintly, but there was no tickle, no sneeze. She blinked, a little disappointed.

“Nothing,” she said softly, sniffing again. “I guess roses aren’t the culprit.”

Caligo raised an eyebrow, amber eyes glinting with both curiosity and amusement.

“Hmm… very well,” he said, setting the rose candle aside carefully and reaching for a small vanilla-scented candle. He held it under her nose and Marlie inhaled again, taking several slow breaths, but once more, nothing happened.

“Still nothing,” she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the lingering tickle she’d hoped for. “Vanilla’s safe… apparently.”

Caligo tilted his head, brushing a hand along her cheek gently.

"Interesting,” he murmured, amber eyes narrowing slightly. “Perhaps it’s not a candle at all.”

They moved on to a lavender incense stick next, its delicate purple smoke curling upward in the candlelight. Caligo held it near her face, and Marlie leaned in, inhaling deeply. Her nose twitched faintly, but the sneezing sensation didn’t come. She exhaled, a little shrug of frustration escaping her.

“Lavender too… nope. No reaction.”

Caligo’s lips curved into a small, teasing smile as he studied her, still holding the incense with careful fingers.

“Well, my sweet girl,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.“It seems you’re either incredibly resistant… or very selective about what tickles your little nose.”

Marlie giggled, sniffing once more and wrinkling her nose.

“Maybe I’m just… picky,” she teased, leaning back against him slightly, though her brown eyes glimmered with curiosity. “But seriously… what is making me sneeze so much then?”

Caligo’s amber gaze softened, resting on her flushed, still slightly sniffly face.

“We’ll find out, darling,” he murmured. “We've got one more little test to go.”

*

Caligo picked up the stick of patchouli incense, amber eyes glinting with curiosity and anticipation. He turned to Marlie, a small, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?” he asked softly, his long fingers holding the incense carefully.

Marlie nodded, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in her eyes.

“I’m ready,” she said, tilting her head back slightly, giving him access. Her nose twitched faintly already, as if sensing what was coming.

Caligo brought the incense closer, holding it gently just under her nose. The earthy, musky scent curled up in delicate wisps, filling the small space between them.

Almost instantly, Marlie’s breath hitched sharply. Her nose twitched violently, and before she could even warn him, it began—a full, unstoppable sneezing fit.

“Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Oh, g-gods! Ligo, that's...that's...Hhh’eshhh’oo! I'm g-gonna— Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Hhh’SHhh’uhh! Hhh’HHhh’uhh!”

Her body trembled with each sneeze, tiny shivers running down her spine, and her cheeks flushed pink as she pressed her hands to her nose, the tip already damp from the first eruptions.

Caligo immediately leaned closer, amber eyes filled with concern and gentle amusement. He pressed a soft hand to her back, rubbing in slow, reassuring circles, while his other hand held the black lace handkerchief ready.

“That’s it, darling… let it out! I’ve got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice low and steady over the rhythm of her sneezes.

Marlie snuffled and gasped between the explosions of sneezes, each one more forceful than the last. She clutched the handkerchief to her nose while Caligo continued to stroke her back, whispering soothingly, “Good girl… perfect. Just breathe through it… I’m right here.”

Her eyes watered as another sneeze wracked her, making her curl slightly against him.

“Hhh’SHhh’uhh! Ligo I can't staaahhh! I can't stohh...stop! Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Hhh’eshhh’oo!”

Finally, after what felt like forever, Marlie’s body relaxed slightly, the intense tickle fading, though her nose still twitched faintly. She sniffled, pressing a hand to her damp nose, cheeks flushed and eyes watery.

Caligo tilted his head, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips despite the gentle concern lingering in his gaze.

“Well,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “It seems we’ve found the culprit.”

Marlie exhaled a shaky laugh, still clutching the handkerchief.

“Patchouli,” she admitted, voice soft and breathless. “Of course it had to be patchouli.”

Caligo chuckled, pressing a light kiss to her temple.

“My sweet girl… I’m glad we solved the mystery. Though I suppose this means I get to keep taking care of you for a little while longer.”

Marlie leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his neck despite her sniffly nose, a small, contented smile tugging at her lips.

“I wouldn’t mind at all, Ligo,” she whispered. “Not one bit.”

*

Caligo watched her with a small, amused frown as she sniffled, still flushed from the previous fit. He held the incense stick carefully, amber eyes soft but cautious.

“Do you want me to get rid of this, darling?” he asked, his voice gentle, worry threading through the amusement.

Marlie tilted her head, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief despite the lingering tickle. She gave him a cheeky grin, shaking her head slightly.

“Hmm… maybe we’ll keep just one stick,” she said teasingly, holding it up with a dramatic flourish. “For… experimental purposes.”

Caligo’s lips twitched in a half-smile, half-exasperated look.

“Experimental purposes, hm? I see…” he murmured, though the warmth in his voice betrayed his amusement.

Marlie pressed the tip of the incense gently under her nose, inhaling deeply, and immediately her little nose twitched violently. Her breath hitched sharply.

“Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh! Hhh’eshhh’oo! Hhh’TSHHhh’uhh!” She sneezed repeatedly, curling slightly as the tickle took over, the damp tip of her nose glistening from the effort.

By the time her sneezing fit subsided again, she sniffled, hands still clutching the handkerchief, leaning against him with a soft sigh.

“See?” she said softly, eyes crinkling. “Keeping one stick was definitely worth it.”

Caligo’s grin softened into something tender as he held her close.

“Alright, darling… one stick it is,” he murmured. “But I’ll be right here for every single sneeze.”

Marlie snuggled against him, the faint scent of patchouli lingering between them, and smiled.

The first thing that was noticed before anything else registered was how utterly awful he felt. It hit him immediately like a brick to the head, before he was suitably prepared, and knocked him slightly off-kilter. Head pounding sickeningly, his temples and sinuses throbbed, forcing a wave of gentle nausea over him. Eyes felt heavy, sticky, difficult to open, and stung as they begged to close again from the moment they were open. His mouth was dry, too dry, his tongue left with that thick, fuzzy sensation that only aggravated the nausea. Drinking into a stupor had seemed like such a good idea at the time; now, he realised much too late, it had not been. 

Memories were as hazy as his consciousness, and the longer he was awake, the more the BEER FEAR™ set in. Had he made a complete fool of himself? He didn’t remember much of getting home, barely anything about arriving at his door and absolutely nothing about flopping down and passing out on the sofa in which he had woken. He didn’t even remember how many beers he'd sunk. If he had to judge from the way he felt and the absence of memory, he figured it had to be a lot. Too many.. 

Lifting his head turned out to be a monumental task, one he hadn't anticipated. Dizziness ensued, his head spinning uncomfortably, and it was only when he pulled it away from the couch cushion that he noticed… ugh, he really hoped that was drool… Taking a breath inwards brought to Ren’s belated attention the state of his nose - clogged, damp and leaking - making him realise that it was definitely not drool. Ughhhh… 

Forcing his way up to a sitting position, hands rubbed over his face, swiping at his nose, as though such an act would rid him of every plight done unto him. It didn’t work, much to his bemusement, leaving him sitting on the edge of the couch with only his hangover for company. Well, his hangover, along with his…

“..hh-..”

The soft hitch of breath as a tickle flared up inside his nose was a poignant reminder that Ren did, in fact, have a cold. He couldn't deny it any longer. It was ambiguous the previous night, his denial of symptoms arguably passed off as being caused by the weather, and even now the option was considered that it was just too many beers making him feel shitty. But too many beers didn't give him a stuffy nose; too many beers didn't cause a sting in his throat when swallowing; too many beers didn't make his nose tickle so badly that he couldn't help but-.. but…

“h-h!.. h'EESCSHH’!!.. snff.. ugh..” 

-too many beers didn't have him sneezing like that.

Ren was generally a pretty sneezy person, whether it be allergies or sensitivities or just… sneezing. A handful a day was the norm for him, so he was no stranger to being overtaken by a rogue tickle by seemingly nothing. Although, he could safely say, without a shadow of a doubt, that sneezes from a cold just hit different. There was a slow, gradual build up to them that belied the immediate urgency when they crested. Unstoppable, insistent, desperate… messy. 

And these were definitely cold sneezes. 

Just that one sneeze had unleashed more than had been prepared for, and Ren scrambled around on the table before him for anything he could use as a tissue. Finding nothing of use, the scrambling became more frantic when his nose twitched a second time, another sneeze fast on the rise. He could tell already that this was going to be his life for the foreseeable future, this cold wreaking havoc inside his sinuses and wrenching sneeze after sneeze from him, desperate to rid his irritated, inflamed nasal passages from the germs that just wouldn’t be evicted.

Upon finding nothing within his immediate reach, managing to stagger to his feet and make it halfway to the bathroom was an impressive feat. But the tickle soon surged, impossible to resist, before he got too far. There was absolutely no other choice but to simply stop, hitch, and give in to its demands. 

“H'IISSCSH-ITSZSHH!!” 

Blindsided by the duo, Ren was given no chance to snatch even a breath between them. Now upright, a fresh wave of hell overcame him, and leaning heavily against the doorframe to the bathroom to steady himself was his only option. Being breathless from a short walk and a couple of sneezes was embarrassing, really, but it didn’t stop Ren from practically panting in the aftermath as he lifted a hand much too late to his face to minimise the damage caused by his sneezing. 

Without anything around that hands could immediately grapple, a sleeve would have to suffice, lifted and ready to be slicked beneath his glistening nostrils in a feeble attempt at cleaning up. The shirt needed washing anyway, reeking of stale beer, smoke and regret from the bar. Plus, it wasn't like there was anyone around to tell him not to; he was alone, well and truly, for the first time in a long time, and could do whatever the hell he wanted. 

Having been just about to swipe his nose on his sleeve, Ren stopped short when he realised what he was wearing. He wasn't met with the expected cotton material of his shirt. Eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the fabric of a sleeve that didn't belong to him: leather. He didn’t even own a leather jacket, never mind one which was several sizes too large, hanging too far past his hands… huh. 

Racking his brain, Reuben’s face came to mind. Of course he remembered Reuben, how could he not? Stomach flipping, Ren smiled internally just at the thought of him. Ridiculous.. But he didn’t remember taking his jacket. Had he asked for it..? When trying to piece together how he had come to be wearing it now, Ren came up short. Fragments of memory splintered in his mind; walking out of the bar, getting into a car, shuffling up the path to his apartment and bidding someone goodnight before stumbling inside… The minor details were muddied and indistinct, smeared in his mind like wet paint, but enough of a picture of what happened was formed: 

Left the bar, acquired the jacket, driven home, walked inside. 

Damn, he hoped he hadn’t made a fool of himself. Beer had a tendency to do that. Jaz was usually around to keep him in check, but now… well, he wasn’t here any more. Just thinking about the man left a bitter aftertaste, even if the yearning hadn’t entirely disappeared quite yet.

Worrying about drunken shenanigans wasn’t usually at the forefront of Ren’s mind, especially if the likelihood of him ever seeing a person again was small, but there was now a task to complete; he had to return the jacket. He needed to get it back to Reuben somehow… So if he had made an idiot of himself, he would have to face that head-on, which was… undesirable. They’d just met, but Ren had liked Reuben. Hopefully he hadn’t scared the guy away from him forever with his drunken antics.

Phone pulled out of his pocket with one hand, the other wedged beneath his nose to mitigate leakage, both messages and contacts were checked. Nothing.. Seems he didn’t get the guy's number. Reuben told him where he worked, but the name of the particular club escaped memory, like so many other things. Damn, he really needed to cut back on the booze. Or stop talking to attractive strangers and proceeding to let them bring him home before stealing their belongings without even exchanging contact info. 

Ughh, his head hurt too much for this. It was far too early to be planning any kind or return-mission. Those plans could be made later. As of that very moment, the only important things were cleaning up, getting changed and throwing the hippest, most happenin’ pity-party the world had ever seen.

Which is exactly what happened.

Foregoing a shower (he just didn’t have it in him), the previous day’s contact lenses were removed and replaced with glasses, Ren audibly groaning in relief as he did so. Unearthing the most comfortable clothes he owned, his others discarded in a heap next to the hamper while the jacket was folded neatly nearby, Ren changed before snatching a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom and retreating back to the couch with it tucked into his arm like a cherished possession of utmost importance.

Consciousness remained for maybe thirty minutes, at most, despite being on his feet for less than that. Already, Ren was exhausted enough that he knew sleep would come easy. Well, granted his nose provided him enough peace to actually fall asleep…

The number of sneezes since being conscious was unknown; Ren hadn’t bothered to keep count. He just knew it was a lot. A permanent tickle resided, dull and thick and relentless, fizzling gently inside his nose at all times. No provocation was needed for it to roar into life either; just sniffling the wrong way set him off. They came in twos, threes, even fours on a couple of occasions. Leaving him sniffling against an impossibly stuffed up nose, his sinuses ached from the pressure and irritation. Such irritation had his nostrils deepening in colour as he rubbed, swiped and blew what felt like endlessly. If he was granted a few blessed minutes of peace, he’d be forever grateful. A silent prayer was sent up that sleep would come to him and cure all; hangover and cold to boot.

Fate appeared to smile down upon him, as no sooner was he supine did Ren manage to drift into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. For how long was anyone’s guess, but the sun had already started to set when consciousness returned hours later, the apartment barely lit by the last lingering dregs of daylight, casting long, spiny shadows around the room.

There was no apparent cause for his awakening. There was a vague recollection of something banging, but that could have just been his head which was, in fact, banging. Whatever it was, it was being ignored, and eyes remained closed in a bid to continue the slumber further. It was only when a second, decidedly louder banging sounded throughout the apartment that there was no blaming the imagination any longer. Someone at the door, undoubtedly, but no visitors were expected - no packages were coming, no takeout ordered. Hunching further into himself, the option to just ignore whoever it was and continue to wallow in peaceful misery alone reigned champion. It was only when the thought that maybe it could be Jaz looking to reconcile, or to collect his stuff,  or maybe even just to talk, forced Ren to launch himself up from his pit and hurry to the door, flinging it open with wide, hopeful eyes before he-...

Stopped dead.

Jaz wasn’t standing there. It was worse. Much worse…

Standing there in all his glory was none other than Reuben Fox. Wide, hopeful eyes widened further yet into something that resembled shocked horror. Because there was the man that Ren had only met one night prior, outfitted in what could only describe as god-like attire with suit pants, a white shirt and a waistcoat. Jeez, he had to be wearing a fucking waistcoat.. Knees felt weaker as Ren stared at the sheer beauty before him, thoughts racing and halting simultaneously. There were so many questions: why he was there, being the main one. Mouth open, Ren could only watch as Reuben smiled that golden sunbeam smile at him, dimples accentuated as he showcased his two rows of perfect teeth.

“Hey,” came Reuben’s warm, infectious voice that Ren remembered well from the night before, like honey over gravel. All the warmth, laughter and comfort from the previous night returned in an instant, hope of it being Jaz replaced by a sense of… relief, perhaps? The voice was just as wonderful as Ren recalled. “Remember me?”

How could he possibly forget? Wind whipped around Ren’s legs, bitterly cold, and his excitement at seeing this attractive stranger was rapidly replaced with a sinking realisation. Reuben was there, looking like something straight out of a magazine, and there was Ren: huge, oversized hoodie with hood pulled up, gym shorts, barefoot, glasses slightly askew from falling asleep with them still on, probably some dried drool at the corner of his mouth.. And that was without the added allure of his pallid complexion, chapped, red nose and hunched, huddled posture. There wasn't a time that Reuben could have chosen to call round where Ren didn't look worse than he did in that moment, honestly. The second prayer of the evening was sent up for the ground to swallow him whole.

When that didn't happen, he finally managed to blurt out, “Reuben?” in a thick, hoarse voice, ravaged by his cold, his hangover, and hours of disuse. Reflexively clearing his throat, Ren continued to gawp.

“In the flesh,” the other man said smoothly, a hand swiping over his shoulder to rid it of some collected snow that was coming down in thickets around them. If Reuben was repelled by Ren’s current appearance, he didn’t let it show on his face or in his demeanour. He just continued to smile at Ren from his place just outside the door.

“Uhh..” came Ren’s cool, collected reply. How much this man had him squirming without even trying was silly. Despite everything, there was a low-level patter of giddy butterflies fluttering in Ren’s stomach. Swallowing, Ren winced when it hurt, and stepped back a little, inviting.

“Do you, ah-.. You can.. come in?” More of a question than an invitation but Reuben didn’t hesitate. He stepped in behind Ren, taking his lead and venturing properly into the hallway as he kicked the snow from his boots.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing around and squinting a little. It took a moment before realisation finally set in and Ren made a swift, clumsy motion to flick on the lights. Squinting, feeling as though the brightness seared into his retinas, Ren led them both further inside as more lights were switched on along the way. It burned unpleasantly, the pain hammering into his skull even more.

With the initial shock and adrenaline of the visitor waning, Ren realised (much to his dismay) that napping had not made him feel better. In fact, it was even worse, somehow. Considerably worse. Inwardly groaning at the lousy timing of this stupid cold and lamentation of getting wasted the previous night, Ren sighed to himself. Here he was, hosting the sexy doorman he’d just met in his very own apartment, all the while sniffling and snotting everywhere with the hangover from hell. He was sure the smell of stagnant beer still clung to him. Appreciating that this opportunity may not present itself again, Ren resolved to not let it hinder the visit, however brief. There was no reason for him to believe that Reuben wasn’t just here for his jacket and would then leave. Then he could get back to wallowing by himself in peace. Regardless, playing good host was top priority.

“What, ah.. brings you here?” Ren asked while leading them both through to the lounge, thankful that it wasn’t a complete disaster in there. A little untidy here and there, but mostly fine. Covertly, the small piles of used, crumpled-up toilet paper were idly swept off the table into a nearby trashcan as discreetly as possible. When eyes looked his way, they were met with an innocent grin. Destroy all evidence and he would never know…

“I left my jacket,” Reuben finally answered, just in case Ren forgot. Foregoing a seat, Reuben  instead began to wander around the room. Eyes roamed over the little details; pictures on the walls, decorations and ornaments, decor. Any comments were reserved, but Ren watched as he seemingly examined the place with curiosity before those bright eyes were turned back to him, their gazes held a moment.

“I also figured I’d check in on you, see how you were doing,” Reuben said candidly, taking Ren aback a little. He hadn't been expecting a total stranger to care enough about him to do a house-call. Whether it was because of his drunken state or his illness was ambiguous, but Ren didn't ask. Heart clenching pleasantly in his chest, his demeanour softened as Reuben continued.

“You seemed… a little worse for wear when I dropped you off last night.” There was a faint smile ghosting Reuben’s lips, almost teasing.

“I wasn’t that bad…” Ren sighed, although if he was being honest, he didn’t remember. “.. Was I?” Reuben chuckled, finally being seated on the couch, a smile evident in his voice.

“You asked if I wanted to come inside for a ‘beesechurger’ before trying to pay me for the taxi fare.” Ren watched the grin on Reuben’s face widen as all colour drained from his own. “Oh, and you fell into that bush out front.”

They were unable to see from inside, but there was indeed a suspiciously Ren-shaped imprint among the leaves of the bush lining the path. Physically shattering into a million pieces at hearing that would have been preferable, but flopping down dramatically at the other end of the sofa and burying his face in his hands would have to suffice. A groan escaped Ren’s lips, eliciting a round of coughing, the sound deep, wet and rattling in his chest. He ignored it, a thick sniffle sounding before a tiny voice squeaked up.

“I’m so sorry.” Ren sighed, suitably mortified. Reuben laughed again, that uproarious, hearty laugh that had endeared Ren so much last night. While horrified beyond measure at hearing his antics, there was a distinct comfort that Reuben provided that Ren hadn’t thought was possible. There was just something about Reuben and his presence which was calming, and a smile caught Ren unaware behind the steeple of his hands despite his mortification.

“I deal with drunk people every single day,” Reuben said as eyes stayed locked onto Ren, brows lifting. “Definitely wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, trust me.”

“I can believe it,” was Ren’s reply. If it was an attempt to make Ren feel better, it worked. It was still embarrassing, but there was no judgment projected towards him. Just a soft, kind fondness. It really had been a long time since Ren had met someone like Reuben. He brought solace despite Ren’s unease at his own behaviour. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach once more, which felt sort-of pleasant, until they began to work their way upwards…

It had only been a matter of time before the fluttering was reignited within Ren’s nose. It was deep, high up inside his left nostril where it simmered, impossible to reach, the sort of itch that only a sneeze could scratch. Ren wouldn’t be rid of the sensation until he sneezed, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to fight against it first. The left side of his nose crinkled up, a hand lifting to rub from the outside, a hope that an external scratch would soothe the internal itch. It didn’t, the sensation only continuing to expand until the sensation filled the entirety of his nose. Nostrils flaring, a hitch was drawn before Ren could control it, expression collapsing as it overcame him.

“h-.. H’EIISHH’h-!.. hH’IIYSSCSHH’iuh!.. shi’d..”

A curse was uttered in a thick, heavy voice after those two expulsions. A hand had just managed to smother the pair, though the weight and frequency of the sniffling that followed didn’t leave much to the imagination of what lurked behind the palm. Blinking against unshed tears of irritation, two sets of eyes began to roam across the table before them, searching.

“Bless you. That cold’s no better, huh?” Reuben asked, watching as Ren made a grabby-hands motion towards something with his free hand. Eyeline tracking the direction Ren was motioning, it appeared to be towards the roll of toilet paper that had been placed nearby for convenience earlier on in the day. Reuben’s expression cinched, unimpressed, but he took it and even went to the trouble of rolling some off, passing the wad to Ren who wasted no time in tenting his hands around his nose and blowing into it. As was expected, the sound was thick and wet, more productive than Ren had anticipated. Wordlessly, knowingly, Reuben rolled off more and held it out for Ren to take.

“Don’t you have tissues?” Reuben asked, beginning to scan the room again. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, eyes fell back to Ren as a hand held up the toilet paper, demonstrating. “This stuff will wreck your nose, y’know.”

“I'b fine,” Ren managed, ‘tissues’ lowering to reveal a heavily pink nose, almost red at the nostrils in its intensity.

“Yeah?” Reuben asked, scrupulous. “You sound awful.” Ren's expression must have given away his chagrin because Reuben's hands flew up in mock-surrender before he added, “No offence.”

Full offence taken, because Ren didn’t actually think he sounded that bad.. He was yet to see himself, having not done so in some time, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job of holding it all together, given the circumstances. Clearly not. Though it was hard to be upset with Reuben for longer than a snatch of seconds.

“I’ll be all right,” Ren finally professed, though it wasn’t terribly convincing. The flat of a palm was digging into one eye when there was suddenly a flightless presence beside him, and looking up, Ren was met with Reuben’s body mere inches away from his own. Their knees bumped together, was how close they were. “Ah-!” Ren startled, physically jumping back, but he didn’t get very far before a huge, warm hand slapped gently against his brow before he could resist.

Arguably a little too intimate for a duo that had literally just met, but Reuben didn’t appear to care. Eyes were concentrated as he studied Ren, his hand resting against Ren’s brow with a touch far too gentle for his brooding frame. Lifting Ren’s bangs, just enough pressure was applied to have Ren wilting slightly in pleasant relief. It felt… really good. The warmth, the pressure, everything. For that brief moment, the pain eased slightly, and eyes were closing before he could stop them.

“You’re burnin’ up a little,” came Reuben’s conclusion. His typically bright demeanour was replaced with something decidedly more thoughtful. Concerned, even. It gave Ren pause to consider; he hadn’t realised he was running a fever, honestly. It made sense, given everything else that was going on with him; he simply hadn’t realised. Now that it was brought to his attention, he could admit to a decidedly flushed sensation in his cheeks and brow, his skin fragile and glass-like while his clothes chafed him uncomfortably. All the signs of a low-grade fever, for sure. Still, he had resolved to be a good host, and sickness be damned, he would live up to that role. The urge for denial came in strong, and both hands braced his knees.

“Ca’d I get you a drink?” Ren asked, beginning to stand before a wave of wooziness came over him and forced him to drop back down into his seat. Cursing silently, he went to try again, but a hand was soon weighing down on his shoulder, keeping him in place.

“I’d love one.” Reuben’s voice was back to that liquid-gold growl, expression soft once more. Ren felt lost, captivated slightly, unable to do much more than just sit and watch him. “But let me get them. Why don’t you go take a shower?” Eyes fell and scanned over Ren’s entirety, a brow cocking playfully. “You look like you need one.”

Arm lifted, Ren buried his nose and sniffed a little. Which proved… ineffective. He was so stuffed up that even if he stank through the rafters, he wouldn’t be able to tell. Deflating, Reuben chucked and braced an arm to help Ren stand, keeping his place on the sofa.

“Go. I’ll be right here.” It sounded like a promise, and Ren had to admit that a shower did sound inviting. Nodding, he took Reuben’s arm and was soon hoisted up and inside the bathroom in a beat, door clicking shut behind him. Was leaving what amounted to a total stranger alone and unsupervised in his apartment a good idea? Arguably not, perhaps. But Ren’s gut told him otherwise, trusting Reuben implicitly. Typically, his sense of judgment was accurate, and there were yet to be any warning signs coming from the other man.

As expected, the shower was wonderful. Hot water lapped at his flushed skin pleasantly, steam swirling and actually helping to alleviate some of the pressure in Ren’s head. He could admit (to himself and himself only, a truth he would take to the grave) that he took a moment to blow his nose into his hands. Disgusting? Sure. Needed? Definitely. He had no regrets.

The cold had progressed to making Ren’s sinuses inflamed and swollen, which meant that no amount of blowing would ever fully ease the pressure and fullness entirely, giving his head a simultaneous heavy but buoyant feeling. It was only made worse each time a sneeze approached, even just the sensation of a tickle coupled with an incomplete sneeze being enough to aggravate the pressure further. Ren had just been ready to step out of the shower when he felt another fast on the rise, the sensation carrying a dull sharpness that stole his breath. 

It was cruel in its ascent, torturing the inside of his nose with what felt like a thousand tiny feathers. The sensation fluttered, maddening, before it expanded thickly, threading cruelly across every sensitive nerve ending in his nasal passages. He hitched, hopeful, before sighing it out as a false start. A hand braced against the wall, palm flat to the tile, as he waited. And waited. And waited… Each breath fanned the tickle in increments, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, relief was granted. 

“h’tTSZSCH’uh!.. IH’TSSCSHH’h!.. h-h-! HH’EHSSCSSHH’UH!!” 

They tumbled from him, one after another, not a single one of them capable of dissuading the tickle. It stayed stuck, ravaging his already inflamed membranes, coaxing sneeze after torturous sneeze from him. 

The fit lasted a good minute or so before it finally quietened, leaving Ren’s eyes puffy and streaming, his nose red and leaking, his breath shallow and laboured. It took another good minute or so for him to pant away his recovery, until he finally regained enough composure to flip off the shower, shiver his way onto the cold floor, and blow what he could out into ravel after ravel of toilet paper. 

Head throbbing, nose and sinuses aching, shivers wracking him, Ren finally dried off and managed to dress himself before padding barefoot back to the lounge, kitted out in sweatpants and a fresh hoodie and hopefully smelling a little better. Though Ren was given reason to pause when he found the lounge empty. A quick, panicked glance around confirmed that nothing appeared to be out of place or stolen. Reuben apparently hadn’t hired a removal truck and taken all Ren’s shit while he had been showering which was… preferable. Sounds from the kitchen alerted Ren, and he passed through the lounge to the kitchen, only to be met with what was perhaps the most unexpected sight he could have imagined. 

Bags were scattered across the countertops, a couple even laid out on the floor neatly. Reuben was steadily unpacking them, wearing his jacket that was dusted with snow, taking items out one by one and spreading them across the countertops. It looked like… groceries? He didn’t even think he'd been showering long enough for Reuben to leave, buy groceries and return. Lingering in the doorway and watching in awed disbelief, seemingly unnoticed by the other man, Ren hesitated a beat before finally speaking up. 

“What-.. is all this?” Reuben halted at the sound of Ren’s voice, freezing as though he’d been caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t be. But his apprehension only lasted a moment, soon returning to his task, unbothered. 

“I couldn’t cope with the contents of your refridgerator,” Reuben stated bluntly. And… okay, so the fridge was in a slightly dire state. From Ren’s recollection, there was just a jug of water, several bottles of condiments, a solitary lemon and a couple of bottles of beer. He’d been meaning to get on that… But the past couple of days had gone by in a blur, other things taking priority. He was stuck in a state of disbelief, which he was allowed to linger in for a simple moment before he was being beckoned over to where Reuben was standing. “Here.” Hand outstretched, a takeout carton was thrust in Ren’s direction. He took it gingerly, glassy eyes narrowed as he considered Reuben sceptically. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, not meaning to sound ungrateful but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.”You barely know me.” People in big cities didn’t typically behave this way. At least not without a hidden agenda. If he took offence to Ren’s question, Reuben didn’t show it, instead just smiling with a shrug as the last bag was lifted and placed on the counter. 

“I dunno,” Reuben admitted frankly. “Figured you needed the help. Besides.” Eyes locked onto Ren, seemingly seeing right through him, forbearing and tender. He winked. “You’d do the same for me, right?” 

It was a question which gave Ren pause for thought. And… yeah, okay, Reuben had him there. Had the tables been turned, Ren would have done exactly the same. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t even want to try, but he thought once again of just how Reuben made him feel. He hadn’t felt this way in.. well, a really long time, honestly. It was a strange, alien feeling, but it wasn’t unwelcome. His lack of an answer was apparently answer enough for Reuben, and soon Ren was being passed a pair of chopsticks and was ushered towards the door. “Go sit down. I’ll be right through.” 

Doing as he was asked, Ren took his seat back on the couch, still stuck in a slight state of disbelief at what was happening. The carton was flipped open and a plume of steam from what appeared to be some sort of noodles and veggies dish wafted up into Ren’s face. He couldn’t smell it much, but it looked damn good. Chopsticks snapped, Ren was about to dig in when Reuben ventured back into the room, taking a seat beside him, own carton of takeout in hand. 

Silence stretched between them for a while. The words to convey his appreciation escaped Ren’s tongue; thank you didn’t feel like enough. Reuben had really gone out of his way, spent his own money, given Ren the time and effort and compassion that even his own (ex) boyfriend had failed to show him. It was a mix of emotions; undeserving, mainly. But also grateful, humbled, seen and heard. The positives outweighed the negatives by a country mile, and with a bunch of noodles lifted to his mouth, Ren finally garnered the courage to speak. 

“..Thank you,” he finally said, his voice quiet and a little subdued. “You didn’t have to, but.. it’s appreciated.” 

“Hey, hey,” came Reuben’s jaunty tone beside him. “Don’t go gettin’ all mushy on me.” When Ren didn’t really react, Reuben added genuinely, “But you’re welcome.” 

The first bite of dinner was finally taken and the warmth spread pleasantly in Ren’s mouth and across his chest as he swallowed. Though the gentle heat was shortlived, replaced quickly by a rising intensity, the spice gaining momentum until his eyes watered, causing him to sputter, plonking the carton down on the table as he coughed harshly. “Holy shit,” he croaked, breaths panted through his mouth as his tongue burned, eyes streaming. A hand fanned up and down in front of his face, Reuben watching with a smug sense of glee beside him, not even trying to hide his smirk. 

“Don’t be such a wimp,” he teased, snatching a bottle of water and passing it over. Ren chugged half of it before he needed to stop and gasp repeatedly to catch his breath. “It’ll help clear you out,” Reuben shrugged. 

“It’s melting my face,” Ren choked out. Only one bite in and he thought he was about to combust. That shit was spicy, and Ren was no stranger to spice, given his grandfather’s lineage. Though Reuben may have been onto something; one bite, and already Ren could feel his sinuses opening up. He could feel the slick, sleek trickle of something trace the inner line of his septum, threatning to drip, and he sniffed sharply. Reuben seemed to spot the predicament and was swiftly snatching up a tissue box he had clearly just bought, ripping it open and holding it out towards Ren. 

“Then it’s a good job at least one of us is prepared, huh?” he asked, watching as Ren grabbed no less than three tissues from the box, pinning them to his nose and blowing emphatically. Not the most pleasant sight or sound while eating a meal, but Reuben didn’t seem to mind. He carried on snarfing down his own meal without a care in the world, only pausing to pass Ren a tissue or two until he gave up and just handed him the whole box. 

It was a challenge, but somehow, the bottom of the carton soon came into view. Sweat dappled his brow and his nose was a constant stream, tissues practically a permanent fixture against his face between bites, but he made it, somehow. 

Managing to make it down to maybe two more mouthfuls, the perpetual running and dripping became too much for Ren’s tortured nose to handle. It protested, spearing him with a potent tickle that made him shiver down to his bones. Head ducking down, Ren waited, knowing it was useless fighting against this. There was no waxing and waning about this one, just a continuous momentum that built and built, edging closer with every breath. Keeping his head down, eyes closed lazily, expectant, hopeful, as the hitching began. It didn’t take long before that final, snatched inhale was drawn. 

“h’ETSCHSHH!.. IH’SZSSHH’iuh!..” 

With Ren’s sinuses opened up slightly, the two of them had been… productive. An immediate sniffle followed, head staying ducked down to hide the state of his face. 

“Bless you, here, quick.” Tissues appeared in his eyeline between his legs, passed over from Reuben, and no time was wasted in making a grab for them and rushing them to his face. A thick, struggled blow ensued, and Ren lamented all the days he took breathing freely for granted. After the cleanup, he didn’t feel quite done, the ghost of another sneeze shadowing inside his nose, threatening, but he was granted enough of a reprieve to finish his dinner. Just. 

“Good job,” Reuben congratulated when they’d done, clapping a hand on Ren’s chest and patting it a few times. Reuben made quick work in snatching up the cartons, starting the cleanup immediately, though there was yet to be movement from the other side of the sofa. 

“Hey, where do you keep-..?” The question was halted when Reuben apparently turned to Ren and noticed his posture, expression, everything. He sighed fondly, shoulders dropping. “You’re gonna sneeze again, aren’t you?” 

It didn’t take a genius to spot that was the problem. Ren’s expression was light, airy, lifted in that expectant, hopeful way, waiting patiently for the inevitable. His head was tipped back a little, eyes narrowed and squinting at the ceiling; the tip of his nose twitched, alive with the tickle, as his nostrils flared repeatedly, irritated beyond measure; his mouth hung loosely open, jaw slack. They both waited, Reuben watching as Ren fought against it, either warding it off or encouraging it to come. A couple of tissues were thrust into Ren’s hands just in time to be lifted to his face as the final, shaky inhale was drawn, and he was suddenly thrust forwards. 

“h-h!.. h’ESZSSHH’h! H’IYSSCSHH’UHH!.. hhhhhh-..” 

A long, drawn-out sigh followed that double, and Ren visibly wilted where he sat. Dabbing at his nose proved ineffective, and he resolved to just shove a tissue against it and keep it there. Saved a lot of effort. Any magic the spices from dinner had worked were quickly fading, Ren able to physically feel his nose filling back up, sinuses throbbing with the building congestion collecting. He was fighting a losing battle, it seemed. 

“Y’know.” Reuben’s voice called out from the kitchen. “I’m just gonna record myself saying ‘bless you’ and play it on a continual loop. Save me straining my voicebox.” 

Ren laughed, but it was pitiful. It was late in the evening, around the time when he was hit hardest by his symptoms. The fever had spiked a little, he could tell already, shivering slightly as Reuben ventured back in wiping his hands on a towel. He frowned at Ren. 

“You’re not feeling so hot, huh?” he asked. Promises of being Host of the Year were dashed, and Ren shook his head, not even trying to deny it any longer. 

“N’dot really,” he admitted, bundling up into himself. Dipping out of the room, Reuben returned a mere moment later and spread out an array of items before them on the table. Ren blinked at them, surprised, before squinting at Reuben. 

“I got you a whole arsenal,” he boasted, proud of his haul. There were tissues (so many tissues..), NyQuil, Tylenol, water, orange juice, even a thermometer. It made Ren’s heart pinch pleasantly, knowing that someone had gone to this effort just for him. He’d spent the last couple of days feeling so alone, so unworthy of love and affection. The breakup was hitting him harder than he had realised. Not to mention that the fever ran the risk of heightening his emotions, and he absolutely refused to start crying about a little OJ. 

“Come on,” Reuben was saying, measuring out the goopy liquid and cracking open a bottle of juice. “The sooner this is over with, the sooner you can wither in peace.” An offering was made with each hand, one with medicine and one with juice. Necking the NyQuil like he was doing shots, Ren chased it with the OJ, pulling a sour face as his nose wrinkled up in distaste. For the first time, he was thankful for his dulled taste, managing to keep it down without issue. Taking the empties, Reuben settled himself beside Ren, snatching up the remote and flicking on the TV. It appeared he was in no rush to leave and Ren wasn't about to ask him to. 

Channels were hopped between for a while until they finally settled on some documentary. From what Ren managed to watch, it was about rainforests, but that was as far as he got. 

Ren wasn’t awake to see much of the show. He wasn’t awake to realise his head had fallen onto Reuben's shoulder, where it remained as he slept for a really long time. He wasn't awake to witness the cool hand press to his too-warm brow. He wasn’t awake to feel a blanket be thrown over him before being tucked tightly around him. He wasn’t awake to see or hear Reuben leave. And he definitely wasn’t awake to witness the gentle pressure of lips against the fever-damp hair at his temple.

tbc...?

It’s becoming damn near impossible to keep their hands off each other tonight.

Frankie leans against the balcony railing and lets the breeze off the bay wash over her. It trickles over her silky cropped button-down and whispers over the few inches of exposed skin at her waist, tickling invisible fingers over her hips and teasing at the soft hairs of her happy trail.

She adjusts the waistband of her shorts (black denim embellished with turquoise rhinestones — a little camp, but cute, according to Penn) and watches the crowd of two hundred or so Portland-area queer women mingling and, at the very center of the patio, dancing, their skin aglow in the sunset. “HOT TO GO!” pumps from the speakers perched around the borders of the patio, and green and blue lanterns wobble overhead like buoys loosely anchored in a tangerine-colored ocean.

It’s Dyke Night at Mermaid’s Purse Bar — not remotely close to Frankie’s typical scene, but basically a right of passage for any sapphic below the age of sixty. Especially one with a pretty new partner to show off.

If only she’d hurry up and get back from the bathroom so they could grind up on each other while the music is good or, better yet, slip off to one of the more private seating areas to make out.

There’s a touch at Frankie’s elbow. A girl with hair that looks like cotton candy perches on the rail beside her. “Hey, sweetpea.” A smirk, sweet like she’s in on some private joke, pulls on her peachy pink lips. “What are you doing all by yourself?”

Frankie’s voice jams in her throat. She rolls the glossy material of her shirt over her fingers. “Just — watching.”

“That’s no way to spend the night.” The girl traces a delicately manicured fingernail decorated in tiny seashells over Frankie’s jaw. “Can I buy you a drink? I know just what you’ll like.”

“Only if you’re buying for both of us.”

Warmth fizzes up behind Frankie’s belly button. She turns to her other side, where Penn has materialized out of the crowd.

She watched from the bed as Penn got ready at her apartment this evening, but still, Frankie’s breath buries itself between her ribs as she looks at her. She’s in a shimmery turquoise bodysuit whose neckline dips down to her sternum, giving more than a little peek at the freckles speckling her chest and the milky soft rise of her cleavage. A wispy indigo skirt covers her lower half, sheer enough to see almost everything beneath it — the curve of her hips, the long expanse of her bare legs, the pink ghost of a hickey Frankie left on her right thigh a few days ago. Blue and gold glitter highlights her eyes, and somehow even her pink nose — flushed and a little swollen from the way she keeps needing to rub it or press it into the crook of her arm — looks fucking regal.

The cotton candy-haired girl makes a face that’s somewhere between a sheepish smile and an embarrassed cringe. “Oh — sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know you were with someone.”

Penn curls an arm around Frankie’s waist and aims a deadly smile at the other girl. “She’s my girlfriend.” She says it with a disarming sweetness, but bites a kiss against Frankie’s neck like a lioness marking its territory. It’s not a jealous gesture, but rather one of someone who wants the rest of the world to know not to touch what they haven’t been entrusted with.

Under the sting of her teeth, a wave of heat bubbles across Frankie’s skin and makes her knees tremble.

The other girl’s smile flattens into a thin line. “My mistake.”

Frankie lets a smile melt across her lips as she sinks into Penn. Her shoulders lift in a loose shrug. “You couldn’t have known.”

The other girl shrugs back, then slips away into the crowd.

Penn’s giggle gets captured by Frankie’s lips. Pushing up on her toes, Frankie cups Penn’s face in both hands and pulls her in close, late spring heat and lust rippling over her skin like a hungry flame. One knee hitches up a little, just enough to press into the sensitive space between Penn’s legs.

Penn breathes a warm, pleased sound into Frankie’s mouth. Her hands cradle the small of Frankie’s back, a tender shield against the rest of the crowd. “Did I miss something?” she asks. “I was gone for, what, two minutes?”

“Too long.” Frankie lets her hands trail down to Penn’s shoulders. She nuzzles up against her jaw, lips hanging just shy of a kiss. Her breath ghosts along Penn’s skin and leaves a trail of goose bumps behind. “I missed you.”

A sniffle, soft but distinctly itchy, sounds in Frankie’s ear. Penn nudges her nose against Frankie’s neck, rubbing the tip of it back and forth as her breath gives a faint shiver. “Because I’m so much f — hihh! — fun right now.”

Frankie eases back a little. She casts a pointed look at the wide expanse of Penn’s largely bare chest. “You’re especially fun right now.”

Penn giggles, though a shiver shatters the tail end of it. The glitter on her eyelids catches the sunlight, flashing bright as her eyes narrow and, a moment later, squeeze shut.

“Hih’ITSHHHuehh!” She dips to the side, catching the sneeze against her bare forearm. It’s sharp and a little ragged around the edges, like her throat is already getting tired after only an hour outside in the breeze. 

She lifts her narrowed gaze toward the sunset, then ducks into her arm to catch another breathless,“Hih’ETSCHHihh!”

“Bless you.” Frankie presses her knuckle against the corner of Penn’s eye, just enough to catch the tear that’s collected there. When Penn drags in another sniffle — damp, but steadier than a moment ago — she tucks herself back in closer until they’re hip-to-hip, setting one hand on Penn’s back and letting the other trace the outline of her face.

She should probably stop and let Penn catch her breath — would stop, if Penn asked. But when she nuzzles in closer to press a kiss to Penn’s lips, Penn kisses her back, muscles taut with the sort of hunger that makes Frankie’s skin light on fire, so she doesn’t.

Out here at the edge of the patio, they’re relatively out of the way — not that they have any real privacy, but being out here at the very edge of the crowd tends to send the message that they don’t want to be messed with. Or it should, if the three other couples groping each other up against the railing are anything to go by. 

With one hand on Penn’s back, steadying her, Frankie reaches up between them with the other, letting her fingers trail over the slippery fabric of Penn’s bodysuit. When her touch bumps over the hard bud of Penn’s nipple, Penn presses deeper into her. A soft moan whispers over her vocal cords and slips into Frankie’s mouth, sweet with the tang of the cider she ordered when they first got here.

Frankie presses her thumb over that spot, then drags it in a slow, teasing circle. Her own breath stutters as Penn bites at her lip, desperate for more.

They could stay like this all night if they wanted — tangled together at the edge of the crowd, teasing each other with sharp bites and stolen touches, sweat dripping through their clothes as that coil of arousal in Frankie’s stomach winds tighter and tighter. Fun, of course, but nothing compared to what could be: just the two of them, nothing hidden, fingers free to explore the full expanse of their bodies.

And of course, there’s the other matter at hand: the breeze, gusting over them, snatching Penn’s breath again.

“H’TSHHHihhh!” Penn ducks into Frankie’s shoulder, a shudder winding through her whole body with the force of the sneeze. Her hands fumble at Frankie’s waist, searching for an anchor as her chest trembles all over again.

The back of Frankie’s throat goes dry.

“Hihhh … hih’ISHHHuehh! ISHHHuehhh!” Penn’s grip tightens on Frankie’s waist. A second passes before her breath puffs through Frankie’s shirt in a hot, shaky sigh. 

“Fuck. snnrf! Sorry, I couldn’t — those sort of snuck up on me.”

“It’s okay.” Frankie swallows. She wets her lips with the edge of her tongue and slips her fingers into Penn’s hair, tipping her hand to cup the side of her jaw. Hoarseness colors her voice dark and low. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Penn loops one arm back around Frankie’s waist. She reaches up with her other hand to rub at her nose. “The whole patio’s in the breeze. I think I’m fucked no matter where we go.”

“I meant home.” Frankie dips her head into the soft, warm crook of Penn’s neck. The sweet scent of sweat mixed with notes of ylang ylang and jasmine washes over her in a heady rush, more intoxicating than any drink she could order at the bar. She swallows again. “I … I really want to touch you.”

Penn’s fingers work their way through Frankie’s hair, light and lazy. Now it’s her turn to nudge her leg up against Frankie, right up into the space between her legs where everything is hot and aching. “You’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

“I mean — everywhere.” Frankie’s breath slips out against Penn’s skin, a shivery, small thing. Her body trembles, screaming to sink down against Penn’s leg, to push in closer until her hunger and heat are satisfied. “I want to fuck you.”

“Oh yeah?” Penn pulls back to look at her. A smile, a little shy, flickers over her lips. “Like, just the normal amount, or did I —”

Frankie cuts her off with a kiss again and catches her sweet giggle in her mouth. She pulls her in closer, nearly choking on her breath at the press of Penn’s leg through her shorts. A groan, broken and hoarse, rides out into the space between them before she can try to swallow it back.

Penn hums a soft sound as deceptively sweet as that smile she wore earlier. Something bright and hungry flickers in her eyes as she catches a finger in the waistband of Frankie’s shorts.

She knows exactly what she’s doing. 

And damn, if she’s not good at it.

“I’d like that,” she whispers.

**

It’s almost pathetic, how little it takes to wind Frankie up to the edge of her breaking point.

Frankie gasps into Penn’s chest, sprawled out on top of her like a drunken starfish. Sweat coats her body, a conduit of the electricity building in her stomach and arching out into her fingertips, hungry to roam every inch of Penn’s pretty skin. 

“And you’re — you’re sure Tim won’t be home soon?” she asks.

Penn hums affirmatively into Frankie’s neck. “Not for hours.” She sucks the space just below Frankie’s ear, tenderly at first, then harder, her teeth teasing at Frankie’s skin. When her efforts draw a whimper from Frankie’s throat, her smile presses against Frankie’s neck. “Fuck.” The word growls over her vocal cords like a tide building in a cave. “You’re so fucking hot, baby.”

Frankie exhales a heavy breath and lets her hips sink down against Penn’s. Her fingers glide along Penn’s torso, tracing the slippery material over her ribs, across the hard buds of her nipples, up toward her neck. There’s a tie, or maybe a snap, somewhere near the nape of her neck, something that when undone will free her body and give Frankie’s fingers unfettered access to the full expanse of her chest and stomach and warm, slightly wet space between her legs.

Penn’s nostrils tremble against Frankie’s nose as she crushes a kiss to her mouth. She’s sniffling almost nonstop now, eyes a little watery and glitter streaking down her cheeks in fluorescent little beads, like the hour or so they spent out in the wind has truly taken its toll. Still, the obvious itch doesn’t stop her from draping her arm over Frankie’s neck and pulling their bodies tighter together. 

“Do you know how sexy that felt tonight?” Penn’s lips are hot and a little dry as they whisper up against Frankie’s. “Telling that other girl you were mine.”

Frankie collapses into Penn and breathes a moan into her mouth. “Say it again,” she murmurs. Her hips buck up against Penn’s of their own volition, a little rough and clumsy with their fervor this time. “Tell me I’m yours.”

“You’re mine.” Penn’s fingers trail through Frankie’s hair. Another sniffle, sharper now, trembles through her nose, but her shoulders roll back and push up against her pillows anyway. “You’re all mine, baby.”

Heat soaks Frankie’s shorts as she bites Penn’s lips. On either side of Penn, her elbows dig into the mattress, one hand searching for the clasp of the bodysuit, the other wandering directionlessly over Penn’s left breast.

“Let me eat you out,” she whispers. The bodysuit shimmers under her trembling hands like a school of fish caught in a sunbeam. “Please, let me eat you out.”

She’s pathetic, begging like this, limbs turned to jelly with want, but god, if Penn doesn’t absolutely eat it up.

She curls closer into Frankie like a coiled spring, a thrilled little gasp slipping from her lips. “Please?” Her breath wavers against Frankie’s neck, soft and delicate as a feather. With another sniffle, she nudges her nose against Frankie’s skin. “That’s all I w — hihh! — want.”

Frankie fumbles at the top of Penn’s bodysuit. Biting her lip, she brings up her other hand to fiddle with it. “How the fuck do you get this off?”

A giggle rasps in Penn’s throat, though the end pitches up, sharp and needy. She gasps a soft “oh,” then tugs Frankie closer, burying her face in the shoulder of Frankie’s shirt as her chest shudders.

“Hih’ATSHHHihh! Hih’TSCHHieww! Ihhh’ITSCHHHiewww’ihh!” There’s a desperate whine on the tail end of that last sneeze — small, but noticeable enough that, inexplicably, a shiver bolts down Frankie’s spine and makes her legs quiver.

Frankie drags in a slow, steadying breath and rocks back, her knees pressing gently into the mattress on either side of Penn’s hips. She cards her fingers through Penn’s hair, her touch more careful than before, though her hand still shakes. “Bless you, baby.”

“Mm … snff! … thank you.” Penn settles back against her pillows, her hair poofing out around her head in a soft halo. She smiles hazily up at Frankie and reaches with one hand toward the neckline of her bodysuit. “I’ll get the clasp, honey. Then let me get you undressed. I want to see all of you.”

Frankie nods and sits at the ready, throat tight as Penn twists her hand behind her neck and the straps of her bodysuit bounce free. With delicate fingers, Penn peels the material back, exposing the softly flushed skin of her breasts.

Frankie’s pulse rockets up to her throat. She’s staring, eyes roving Penn’s skin with a sort of desperation that makes her whole body flush hot, the kind that spent so long tucked in her back pocket, always saved for later, for the privacy of her own room, alone. But how can she not? After a lifetime of averting her eyes anytime a girl’s shirt so much as dipped low on her shoulder, she’s starved for this, and Penn offers herself to her like a feast.

Penn gives Frankie’s stomach a little poke. “You’re going to need to get off of me, if you want me to take this all the way off.”

“Right. Sorry.” Frankie fumbles her way off Penn, kneeling on the sheets beside her, fingers twisted tight in her lap. She swallows. “Do you — can I help, or —?”

“I’ve got it.” Penn bends forward, stealing a kiss from Frankie’s lips as she shimmies the bodysuit down her torso, inch-by-inch exposing her stomach, the wisps of hair around her belly button, and finally the lacy pair of panties barely covering a swatch of wiry gold curls between her legs.

She peels her underwear off in tandem with the bodysuit and drops her clothes off the side of the bed to the floor, where her skirt already lies on a gauzy puddle. She nuzzles in closer, teeth biting at Frankie’s lip and stealing a groan from Frankie’s mouth before it can really form. Her fingers trail over Frankie’s body, tickling her chest and pinching her right nipple through her shirt before falling to the whisper of skin peeking out above her shorts.

“I want to take everything off, baby,” she whispers into Frankie’s mouth, her voice a low purr.

Frankie breathes against her lips for another moment before nodding. She lets herself go lax, allowing Penn to take the hem of her shirt in her fingers, to gather it up and carefully guide it up over her shoulders. It gets tossed aside, falling to the floor beside Penn’s bodysuit and panties.

The bedroom air casts goose bumps across Frankie’s torso. She shivers as Penn touches a gentle fingertip against the hem of her binder.

“Can I take this off?” Penn whispers. Her tone is more tender now. Though her fingers linger at the edge of Frankie’s binder, she doesn’t lift it even a fraction.

Somehow, the pause in everything, Penn’s honey brown eyes searching Frankie’s for permission, to double check that everything is still okay, is sexier than any time they’ve practically torn each other’s clothes off.

Frankie leans in to steal another kiss, slipping her tongue over Penn’s lip and lapping up her breath until she gasps a little. She nods a “yes” against her.

With her mouth still on Frankie’s, Penn lifts the hem of her binder. She eases it up slowly, working at it bit by bit to pull it off. She takes her time, edging back partway through to pepper a kiss to Frankie’s left shoulder, then to her right, then to the space just below her vocal cords — almost agonizingly slow on purpose, dragging this moment out, building toward what’s to come.

The binder is halfway over Frankie’s head when another jagged catch hitches in Penn’s breath.

“ASHHHihh!” The sneeze bursts against Frankie’s chest in a cool mist. Her nipples harden into erect buds, and fresh goose bumps shiver across her body.

“Ohh — hihhh!” Penn’s fingers quiver, brushing lightly against Frankie’s biceps. “Hih’ASHHHihh! Hih’ATSCHHHiewww’ihhh!”

That same desperate little whine from before snags on the last sneeze, and again, Frankie feels a strange pulse of want burst through her stomach and down into her groin.

She peels her binder the rest of the way off and tosses it on the floor. “Bless you.”

Penn scrubs her nose back and forth against her wrist, nostrils scrunching as she sniffles. “Thank you.” She peeks up at Frankie with a slightly stuffy giggle. “Sorry — I, uh … I sort of got your tits.”

“Yeah, you sort of did.” Frankie pushes up on her knees and cups one hand against Penn’s jaw. She eases in closer, giving Penn another second to rub at her nose before nuzzling in to kiss her. “You’re so sensitive tonight,” she murmurs, dipping her hips forward to let Penn undo the button of her shorts.

Once Frankie’s shimmied out of her shorts and boxers, they stay like this for another few minutes — haphazardly propped up against each other; hands roaming the warm, soft surfaces of each other’s bodies; suffocating in each other’s kisses. Then, Frankie nudges Penn back against the pillows and brings a leg up over her, straddling her waist.

“Let me eat you out, baby,” she whispers, tucking a kiss into the dip of her neck.

Penn sniffles, her nose scrunching again, and watches Frankie from beneath hazy eyelashes. Her chest rises and falls with the heavy, rolling breaths of escalating arousal as she nods.

Sometimes, it’s worth it to linger up here — to spend as long as she can handle it kissing up on her neck and chest and breasts, trailing the tip of her tongue over Penn’s nipples and sucking hickies into her skin until Penn nearly bucks her off, so overcharged with need she nearly can’t stand it. But they’ve been teasing each other since they first arrived at Mermaid’s Purse Bar, and Frankie’s own want is already wound tight, a firecracker ready to explode in the nameless space just below her belly button.

She peppers a handful of kisses along Penn’s collarbone, then snakes down her body, settling into the cradle of her legs. Penn’s knees quiver on either side of her as she traces a finger through the swatch of curls under the curve of her stomach, brushing them back to expose her clit, swollen pink and already glistening with want.

Frankie’s mouth waters.

With a shuddering breath, she settles forward on her elbows and knees — they’ll ache tomorrow, but more than likely, Penn will be there to kiss the pain away. And even if she’s not, a little bit of pain is worth it, if it means making her see galaxies tonight. 

With the tip of her index finger, her touch feather-light, Frankie traces the outer edge of Penn’s clit.

Penn’s hips give a sharp jolt. “Jesus, fuck.” The words growl over her throat. She drags in a heavy, stuffy breath. The sheets bunch up in her fingers. “Don’t — don’t drag it out, okay?”

Frankie bites down on a smile. She trails her thumb through Penn’s curls, just a few inches away from her most tender spot. “You really are sensitive tonight.”

“Y — hihhh!” Penn’s right hand lets go of the sheets to fan at her face. Even from down here, Frankie can see the itch playing across her face, teasing her. “You’ve been groping me for, like, two — hihh! — two hours.”

“It hasn’t been two hours.” Frankie presses a kiss against Penn’s inner thigh as Penn’s breath shudders again. “Bless you, baby.”

“ATSCHHHihh!” The sneeze gets aimed haphazardly down at Penn’s chest, the force of it sending a sharp jolt through her stomach and breasts. Her thighs clench around Frankie’s shoulders. “Hehh — ehh’ETSCHHHihhh! … ughh … ignore me.”

Frankie nibbles another kiss on her thigh. “Are you sure? We can stop —”

“Don’t stop.” A shiver ripples through Penn’s legs. She peers down at Frankie, wrist pressed loosely against her nose. Even with her eyes half-lidded by the haze of allergies, need burns like a fire in them. “Please don’t stop.”

Frankie’s throat goes hot. She swallows.

Just as Penn asks, she doesn’t tease, though she’s certainly not in a rush, not when Penn’s already so sensitive to even the slightest touch. She lets her lips settle in a soft O over Penn’s clit, then, gently, traces the tip of her tongue in a slow, light circle.

Penn’s breath rushes out in a ragged whine. The sheets go taut in her grasp. “Fuck — fuck.” Her legs splay out sideways, then gather themselves back up around Frankie’s shoulders. “Frankie — fuck.”

A laugh shivers from Frankie’s nose. “Does that feel good?”

Penn scrabbles blindly to push at her head. “Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Please don’t stop.”

That thing from a moment ago — that kick of want — fires in Frankie’s stomach again. There’s something about seeing her beg now, about her lying prone, completely at the whim of Frankie’s mouth and fingers, that’s deeply, unspeakably sexy.

Frankie nestles back between Penn’s legs and flicks her tongue over Penn’s clit, harder this time, though she slows when that same whine comes from above. She presses her nose into Penn’s curls as she traces her clit with her tongue, breathing in the warm scent of her. It’s that same sweet, perfumy smell from the club, but with a saltier tang of sweat and arousal.

“TSCHHHHihhh! H’TSCHHHiewww’ihhh!”

Penn’s thighs shudder like Jell-O with the sneezes, clenching down on Frankie’s shoulders before nearly collapsing beside her. Her breath, shivery with want and likely that itch that’s plagued her all night, shatters into a keening, indulgent moan.

Frankie’s stomach erupts in flames, the kind that lick at her skin in those moments just before a climax. Before she can stop it, she breathes a heavy, guttural groan out onto Penn’s clit.

Apparently they’re both sensitive tonight.

“Bless you,” Frankie murmurs into Penn’s thigh.

“Fuck — go faster.” The words get half swallowed in a gulp of air. Penn’s hips quiver as she shimmies in closer, her body bumping softly against Frankie’s face. She sniffles, the sound damp and desperate. Her face wrinkles into an agonized cacophony of arousal and itchiness as her shoulders lift slightly off the pillow, like she can’t quite hold herself in place. “Please, go faster.”

Frankie’s hand itches to reach down between her own legs, to tend to the sore, pulsating ache that radiates up through her entire being. For now, with just her fingertip, she drags lazy patterns through Penn’s curls, then down across her skin. When Penn’s wound up this tight, the lightest touch in just the right spot is all it takes to push her over the edge. It’s just a matter of timing.

Frankie traces the length of her skin from her clit to her ass, then back, with just enough pressure to make her legs tremble and draw a sharp, needy whine from her throat. Then she dips her mouth down again, this time sucking at her clit, trailing her tongue over it as gently as she’d nudge back a petal from a new flowerbud.

Penn nearly yelps, back arching up against the mattress. “Oh my god, fuck!” One leg gets thrown over Frankie’s shoulder and squeezes, curling against the back of her neck and holding her in place. Her hips rock, jarring Frankie’s chin. “Fhihhihhhhfuck — oh, don’t stop. I’m — I’m gonna come.”

Even with the pulse of heat between Frankie’s legs, she breathes a laugh. She grabs Penn’s knee with her free hand and holds it in place. “Stop moving so much.”

Penn’s breath escapes in a ragged, groaning sound. “I — I c — hahhhh! — can’t.” Like the tide rushing in and out, her hips dip lower into the mattress, then roll forward, lifting Frankie’s face and shoulders with them. Her legs tremble as her breath shatters in her throat with every inhale. “I — oh god — atschh’ihhhh! hih’ATSCHHihhhh! Hihh — hih’atschhhhhihh!”

Frankie’s tongue juts up against her clit, legs squeezing tight as heat rushes up through her stomach. Down here, with Penn’s leg over her shoulders and head angled back, it’s hard to see her face, but the sound speaks for itself: The sneezes burst out in a frantic rush, quieter than normal but breathlessly, orgasmically desperate.

“Bless you.” Frankie pants over Penn’s clit. “Do you need —”

“Nhihhno — atshhhhuehhh’ihhhhh!” Penn jerks against the mattress with a shrill whine. Her shoulders press into her pillows, hips trembling just below Frankie’s face. “Don’t — hihhh! — don’t stop!”

Frankie bites her lip as that pulsing heat roars through her, just shy of peaking and crashing down again. She tucks one foot under her, half sitting on it. Then, as Penn’s breath catches again, she does as Penn asks, tracing her tongue in the same pattern as before.

“ATSC’hhuehhh! Hihhhhh … hih’atschhhuehh’atschhhhhihhh!” Penn’s leg tightens on Frankie’s neck with each sneeze. Every sneeze bursts out more breathless than the last, melting into a whine as it ripples through the electric air, growing faster and louder. She gasps out a choked moan and writhes a little, bucking up into Frankie’s mouth before clawing back into the mattress. 

From down here, Frankie can only see a glimpse of her face — her expression broken, bent by pained ecstasy and the relentless, desperate itch — but even that’s a remarkable display of the way she’s lost control, the whims of her body finally overcoming her.

Heat drips between Frankie’s legs, and a gasp chokes up the back of her throat. She stutters on Penn’s clit for a second before sucking down on it harder.

“ATSCHHHihhh!” A louder, rougher sneeze shatters the air. Penn’s legs are a vice on Frankie as her breath wavers for another moment, then snags like a page being ripped in half, shoulders digging into her pillows. Another sneeze tears out of her on the tail end of a moan that wants to be a scream. “HAATSCHHHiewww’ihhhh! Oh, fuck!”

Tangy, sweet wetness bursts over Frankie’s tongue. A moan, indulgent and primal, builds at the back of her throat. She swallows it back and slips her mouth more fully over Penn’s clit, drawing her tongue back from the oversensitive bud and sucking tenderly at it as Penn trembles and gasps for breath, her body giving several small, gentle jerks under Frankie’s touch.

Between her own legs, that heat flames anew. Her breath catches as it beats sharply like a hummingbird trapped within her. She trembles all over, every nerve in her skin sparking and crackling against the air. Finally, sinking low against Penn’s leg, she reaches lower and fingers her own clit. One final rush rolls up from her groin and through her stomach like the final shock of an earthquake, and her legs give a sharp spasm. A low, long moan shivers through her as the pulsing subsides into a mellow warmth.

Penn’s fingertips skim the top of her head. “Come here,” she whispers, her voice low and raspy.

Frankie drags in a heavy breath. She presses a kiss to Penn’s inner thigh, then eases forward on top of her. “Was that — was it good?” she asks, her voice hoarse around the edges.

Penn’s eyelashes kiss the flushed skin of her cheeks, her eyes barely opening. “Yes. Oh my god. Yes.” She lifts hazy eyes to meet Frankie’s and curls forward, reaching to take Frankie’s face in her hands. “Fuck, you’re — you’re so good to me, sweetheart.”

Frankie breathes a laugh. She lets herself go lax on top of Penn, endorphins turning her muscles to putty. “I like being good to you.”

“I know.” Penn pulls Frankie onto her chest and collapses back against the pillows. Her chest trembles as she drags in a long breath. Sweat shimmers alongside the glitter on her face, and itchy tears are starting to turn her eyes a soft shade of pink. “Fuck,” she mumbles. “That was … incredible. Like, I genuinely can’t remember the last time I came that hard.”

Frankie rocks back on her knees and bites back a groan — somehow, she’s still sensitive, enough so that just the pressure of straddling Penn’s body sends another kick up between her legs and makes her thighs tremble. She swallows and gives Penn’s stomach a gentle poke. “You’re going to kill me if you keep saying things like that.”

Penn bites down on a smile. She pokes Frankie back. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

Frankie gives her another affectionate poke, then rolls off of her and onto the bed. She curls against her side, nestling her shoulder into the curve of Penn’s armpit. Up close, the scent of their sweat mingles into a tangy, slightly sweet smell — salt and desire and that faint hint of jasmine.

She tucks her face into the crook of Penn’s neck and lets out a quiet sigh. “Bless you, by the way.”

A laugh rumbles low in Penn’s throat. “Oh my god. Thank you.” She rubs a knuckle against her septum. “Was that — sorry if that was annoying.”

“Don’t apologize.” She slips her arm over Penn’s stomach, hugging her closer. “It seemed like … I don’t know. Like maybe it felt good.”

A fresh, darker shade of pink colors Penn’s cheeks. She bites down on a smile. “That’s sort of weird, isn’t it? It’s just — I mean, it did, kind of.” Her finger traces over Frankie’s forehead, wiping away some of the sweat that’s begun to collect along her hairline. “I think it was just — well. It kind of drives me nuts the way you can turn me on in a way I can’t control. And I think it all just sort of compounded or something? I don’t know.”

“That makes sense.” Frankie dips her head to press a kiss against Penn’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, it was … it was really fucking hot. I, um … I was trying to hold out, but I sort of came already.”

Penn giggles. “Now that’s hot.”

“It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Nuh-uh.” Penn sniffles again. Her breath flickers for a second before she jolts into her shoulder with a sharp, “hih’ATSCHHihh!”

Frankie shivers. “Bless you.”

“Mm, thank you.” Penn sniffles again and snuggles in closer. “It is hot, though — knowing you can get off just from getting me off, or watching me. It’s — it’s really sweet, honestly.”

Frankie hides a smile in Penn’s shoulder. “I mean, it’s a little weird that watching you sneeze yourself silly is what did it, but … I guess so.”

Penn giggles. “I’m probably going to keep sneezing all night anyway, so … it’s kind of nice. I was thinking maybe we could take a bath, but I still don’t think my nose is going to calm down.”

“That’s okay.” Frankie kisses her again. She uses her teeth this time. “I think we could have fun with that. If you want.”

“Heh-! Hih-ihh!!”

Steve’s ears perked up at the welcome sound of his boyfriend’s breath hitching towards what he hoped - and was almost certain - would be several rigorous sneezes. Eddie’s allergies had been awful lately. Steve would feel guilty for getting so much enjoyment out of his suffering if he didn’t know that said suffering was such an undeniable source of pleasure for the both of them. But he did know, and so, in all honesty, he didn’t feel even an ounce of shame rolling over to press his body up against Eddie’s side, rubbing his morning wood against his hip and moaning softly at the friction.

He looked up at Eddie’s face just in time to watch the tickle reach its apex. He had a moment to enjoy that gorgeous pre-sneeze expression before Eddie was sneezing uncovered, spraying a cloud of delicate droplets all over Steve’s duvet.

“Heh-! HeHH’ETTSSH’ieww!!”

Snuggled as close to his boyfriend as he was and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as he convulsed, it was an inevitability that he get caught in the periphery of the sneeze. A delicate kiss of spray settled over the side of his face, and he sighed with it, cock twitching violently against Eddie’s hip. He only wished there were no blankets in the way so he could have felt the wonderful sensation of the spray raining down over his naked body.

“God bless you, sweetheart. My sneezy boy.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.

“N’hhot…not done-!” Eddie gasped, head pressing back into the pillow.

“I know, I know. Let them all out for me, love.” Steve pressed a series of kisses along Eddie’s jaw, grinning to feel him tremble in response – no doubt torn between the dual pleasure of his tickly nose and Steve’s touch.

“-Tshh’iewww!! HIDT’SHhhoohh!! IGSHHHhh!! HAGK’TSSHHTt!! ‘DZZT’SHIEWWW!!”

“Ohhh,” Steve moaned, shamelessly rubbing the length of his twitching cock against Eddie’s contracting torso. He wrapped his leg around him in a protective vice, savouring the violent bucking, the sheer helplessness as the sneezes overpowered him. Each release tossed his poor boyfriend forward, the last few strong enough that even his shoulders were coming up off the bed. And god, they were wet; visible damp spots were starting to form atop the sheets as they were doused again and again.

Eddie seemed to be done after several more violent convulsions; he moaned, shivering with both exertion and pleasure as he sank back into the mattress. Steve glanced down the length of the bed and noted with satisfaction the tenting of the sheets where his boyfriend’s cock stood firm. That made two of them.

He peered lovingly at Eddie’s face, his boyfriend now wearing an expression of supreme relief – that sexy, post-sneeze luxuriation that drove Steve crazy. It was simultaneously angelic and perverse; he loved to see the unabashed arousal Eddie’s allergies brought him, and here with just the two of them he didn’t even try to mask how much he was enjoying himself.

“Ohhh, fuck. That felt so good, Stevie.” He smiled, keeping his eyes shut for the moment but sneaking an arm around Steve’s shoulder to pull him closer.

“Mmm. Good. It felt great for me too.” Steve muttered, kissing Eddie’s cheek several times in quick succession. Cuteness aggression seized him quite suddenly, and it was a challenge not to bite Eddie’s adorable face outright. He settled for using a thumb and forefinger to gently pinch away the residual wetness around the rims of his love’s pinkening nostrils, which he then wiped absentmindedly on the sheets. Lastly, he reached up, blanket in hand, to dab at Eddie’s lips, shiny with the aftermath of his sneezes.

“Bless you so many times, honey. Your pretty face is all drippy now.”

Eddie hummed in satisfaction, beaming at the attention. Fully knowing that Eddie was getting off to any and every comment he made about his sneezes, Steve carried on, wanting to rile him up more than ever.

“Poor thing – so many tickles in that cute little nose.” He said, tapping at said nose emphatically.

He could hear in his own voice how excitement roughened his speech, turning himself on even more in the process – an endless and slightly mortifying feedback loop of arousal. Luckily, the transparency of his enjoyment seemed to be doing it for his boyfriend as well; in response to his words, Eddie’s breath hitched - this time in a decidedly horny fashion - and he opened his eyes to peer at Steve.

His gaze was so intense, so heated that Steve felt temporarily paralysed by it. He moved his face closer to Eddie’s, gaze flickering to his lips with intention, and within seconds they were locked in a passionate kiss. It was deep, and lazy, and god Eddie was so fucking good with his tongue that Steve’s toes were curling and he was groaning into his boyfriend’s mouth, feeling his lips curling into a smug grin – cocky bastard - even as he continued to suck on Steve’s tongue like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

When he felt Eddie’s nostrils twitch against his cheek, he pulled back from the kiss with an obscene sucking noise. Eddie followed his mouth with his own, nibbling at Steve’s bottom lip for a moment. Steve pressed a kiss to his sensitive nose before nuzzling it with his own. His breath caught when Eddie’s nostrils twitched again, spasmodically, seemingly right on the edge of a sneeze.

“Need to sneeze, baby? You’re normally totally occupied by now.”

It was true. More often than not, allergy season mornings consisted of Steve being woken by Eddie already trembling into an endless stream of tickly sneezes. It was rare that Eddie be conscious this long, and before taking allergy meds, without sneezing himself dizzy.

“Mmm. C’n feel ‘em coming, don’t you worry about that.” He sniffled experimentally, then laughed softly, noticing the way Steve’s eyes honed in on the motion. “You’re so greedy, baby. I already sneezed a whole bunch.”

Steve scoffed, using his muscular leg to roll Eddie towards him so that he was completely on his side and facing him. Eddie went instantly, flopping forward like an obedient ragdoll.

“What, just now? That was nothing for you.”

He nuzzled Eddie’s nose with his own again, dragging the pointed tip along the shape of Eddie’s nostrils. He felt his cock twitch as he did so, almost giddy with arousal. He loved Eddie’s nose, everything about it, but his expressive, squishy nostrils and the beautiful shape as they flared – so wide, so prominent compared to their at rest form – he’d jerked off to just that image of them more times than he would care to admit.

“Tryna make me sneeze again? Kinky boy.” Eddie teased, rubbing his nose back against Steve’s and flaring his nostrils teasingly.

Steve shuddered, then angled his hips forward until his solid cock was rubbing against his boyfriend’s. They both gasped at the sensation, bodies lurching forward and into one another as if magnetised.

“Yesss…Come on baby, sneeze. Sneeze for me. Don’t hold back, don’t torture me!”

Eddie kissed him again, silencing his pleas; he wrapped his arms around Steve and held him close as he started to rock his hips against him. He groaned as Steve reached with one hand to squeeze both of their cocks together, then groaned a second time as Steve gripped at his ass. It was more of a girly little squeak than a groan, Steve mused happily, smiling as Eddie fucked forward with renewed passion into his fist. He reached down Eddie’s crack to tease at his hole with the pad of a finger, earning him another broken moan against his lips.

They wouldn’t last long like this; the kissing and the stroking and thrusting, suddenly all so intense and purposeful. And still Eddie hadn’t sneezed again; Steve wondered with an air of disappointment if it might be the start of a premature ending to allergy season after all. Not that it mattered all that much in the current moment – he was still painfully turned on, with armfuls of his writhing boyfriend pressed up against him and whining into his mouth. He replayed the sounds of Eddie’s most recent sneezes in his mind, the sensation of the spray, his expression cinching tight, all so beautiful and fuck, so so hot. He wanted to cum his brains out and had no doubt it was only a matter of moments before he did so, painting both of their torsos with his cum – his orgasm irrepressible and body-shaking, just like Eddie’s sneezes.

That last thought very nearly pushed him over the edge, and he was about to warn Eddie when he felt him suddenly tense in his arms.

“H’ohhh, yeah, Steve – gonna sneeze, baby. Finally gonna – Hh’HH!!”

“Ohhh, fuck. Yesss, please!” Steve groaned, forcing his hips to cease in their thrusting. He wanted to make this last; he wanted to have an orgasm right in the middle of Eddie’s fit, letting his endless sneezes spray his body and the heavenly sounds of them prolonging his pleasure until he couldn’t even remember his own name.

“I – I can’t – Hahh! HUH!! I can’t hold it, oh…oh god, Steve, I need to-! I’m going t-to-!!”

“Baby-!!”

Eddie was pressing a finger to his own septum, hard, and Steve realised he was attempting to delay the inevitable just long enough to keep talking him up to his breaking point. It felt like his body temperature rocketed up a hundred degrees; he was so turned on he could barely stand it.

“Gonna – hh-!! HUH’ddt!! -Ahh, sneeze for you-! Gonna sneeze o-out all these tickles-! God, Stevie, my fucking hayfever is so bad, ohh-! I-! I can’t-!!”

Steve couldn’t find the words to respond; all he could do was moan stupidly, cock throbbing and leaking against Eddie’s. The sight of his boyfriend’s crumpling features – his drooping eyelids, those pink, flared nostrils that twitched and twitched against Eddie’s finger, leaving it slick with wetness as they geared up to sneeze…It was erotic beyond belief. The second the first sneeze tore out of him, Steve knew he was done for – and he welcomed it. He could practically taste his orgasm, already building and building, tensing his muscles as he prepared to explode.

“HAH! I’m-I’m gonna’hhh!! HHH!! hHETT’CHIEWWWww!!”

Eddie sneezed – beautifully, violently, catching Steve’s face and chest and even some of his stomach in the rushing brilliance of it. As he knew it would, Steve’s body was seized by a trembling, immensely pleasurable orgasm – he twitched and shuddered helplessly, mouth caught open in a silent scream as he surrendered to it. As he came, Eddie started to sneeze in earnest – a bona fide hayfever attack, unrelenting in its intensity.

“AEGKK’TSchIEewW!! Ihh’KHG’Tshhiew!! ‘TSCHTt’Ieww!! IGK’Shhuuu!! HAHDTt’TSsshh’uu!!! Oh-! ahHH’TISHHH’IIEwww!!”

Steve’s orgasm continued to the point that he was certain he would pass out from how heavenly it felt – full-body surges of ecstasy, rolling muscles and twitching extremities. The kissing spray of each sneeze seemed to cause another spasm to pass through him, an unending assault of pleasure.

“HupTT’ISHH’ieww!!-ISHH’ieww-IGSHHH!! EhH’NGXT’TSieww!! ‘TSSiew-TSHHHtt!! EEHH’SHHHIEWW!!”

The pleasure began to subside enough that Steve’s overloaded brain remembered it existed and was in fact in control of his body. His muscles started to slacken once more as he moaned low and hard, absolutely breathless with ecstasy. Eddie was still sneezing – would be for minutes yet, a dramatic display that occasionally had Steve wondering if he was able to breathe. That he’d witnessed his boyfriend fall into countless numbers of these fits and and fucked him through countless more with anything but adverse consequences was always a reassuring notion. He could feel Eddie’s cock twitching against his own, which was still jerking softly in his fist as he rubbed and massaged it, splattering the pair of them with thick ropes of cum. A weaker, residual wave of pleasure spiked through him as he watched it spasm.

“Ihh’DDZZZT’Shieww!! ‘DZZTT’SHHh!! HehH’DISHHH’ieww!! H’h-! ENGXTch’TSieww!! NDd’Tshieww!! ‘TISHhhiew-DZT’Shuu!! ESSHHH’ieww!!”

Steve’s orgasm finally concluded, leaving him a trembling mess of singing nerves. Eddie’s sneezes continued to douse his chest as he lay there, open-mouthed and motionless, coming back to himself. He roused himself after a moment, pulling his trembling boyfriend closer into him and wrapping his strong arms around him.

“HIG’TChuu!! Hh’GXTt’SShieww!! ESHHHhh!! Hh’IGSHH’ieww! EhNGXT’TShh!! IhH’KhGTSshhh!! Hgk-!”

“Ohh, bless you, bless you. Good boy. So many sneezes, oh, baby…”

Eddie shuddered, tears beading his eyelashes and moaning in a momentary respite before the sneezes continued. His cock was a solid weight against Steve’s abs; it drooled and twitched, a perverse mirroring of his suffering, tickly nose. The spray covered Steve everywhere; his chin and neck, his shoulders, his chest, stomach, cock, thighs. The immense after-glow of his orgasm washed over him in an all-calming wave, more than heightened by the kiss of every sneeze.

“AeEGK’TShhIEWW!! Hup’TISHHH’uu!! EHHTT’Chieww!! Steve-! Plee-heEEEZZ’SCHhieww!! I-I need to-!”

Steve nodded, shivering in excitement to hear Eddie’s failed attempt at speaking sans sneezes. He ran his open palm over the messy streaks of their cum-covered torsos, moistening his hand, then reached down between them, wrapping his boyfriend’s cock in a firm grip and jerking him hard and fast – a relentless rhythm, just the way Eddie liked it, making his biceps twitch with the effort.

“IGK’TSHHhh’uuu!! Ohh, fuck, ohh my goddDD’ZSshhht!! Ohh, I’m cumming, I’m gonna - !! hH’EHGKk’TSSHHhieww-!!”

Steve’s eyes fluttered closed as that sneeze hit him square in the face, teasing his sensitised skin as it settled upon him - and just like that, Eddie gasped and came powerfully, bowing forward with the force of it and trembling all over. The surprise and immense pleasure of it stopped the sneezing in its tracks, his body forced to pick one form of spasming helplessness over another. The sensation of his hot cum spurting out over Steve’s fingers, painting his chest and shooting all the way up to his chin with one exceptionally impressive squirt felt just as good, just as rewarding as his boyfriend’s copious sneezes had.

Steve kissed into Eddie’s wild curls, easing up his strokes until he was cradling Eddie’s trembling cock, enjoying the residual shudders that passed through his boyfriend as his orgasm started to weaken.

“Good boy, pretty boy,” he murmured as Eddie groaned, pressing his face against Steve’s neck and catching his breath.

"Ehh’HESHUHhh!" An allergic sneeze reverberated through the apartment complex.

The door to 3B swung open with a gentle creak, revealing the source of the explosive sound. Stefania Cavataio, with her nose so hooked it looked like it had been drawn with a single stroke of a cartoonist's pen, stepped into the hallway, her brown eyes watering and her cheeks flushed. Her long black hair was flowing down to her waist. She clutched a bouquet of wilted flowers in one hand and her tissue box in the other. The pollen count was higher than usual, and it was wreaking havoc on her sinuses. Her nostrils flared widely as another sneeze threatened to take hold of her. "Eh... Hehh... HEHH!!"

Her neighbor, Hannele Klein, emerged from her apartment, her own nose a sleek and sharp contrast to Stefania's. Her oval nostrils quivered as she took in the scene. Her short blond hair and silver eyes were signs of a true Scandinavian. Despite her own congested state, she couldn't help but feel a thrill at the sight of Stefania's distress. "Stef," she cooed, her voice a smooth caress, "why don't you come inside? My flowers are all dead from the cold, so they shouldn't bother you too much."

Stefania looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. "Thanks," she sniffled, her voice nasal and thick with the promise of another sneeze. "But I don't want to bug y-you... Huuuh-uhhh...." Her prominent, giant nostrils flared to twice their size. 

Hannele placed a finger under Stefania's large nose, the allergic tickle temporarily subsiding.

"Heh... UHHHHhh... Thank you, Annie," she whispered, her voice shaking with the effort of staving off another sneeze. Stefania's brown eyes gazed at Hannele's silver eyes. Stefania was much taller than Hannele, standing at 5 ft 11 in with long black hair. Her hooked nose twitched violently. "Oh, cara mia..."

"Oh dear..." Hannele pretended to be concerned. For once, she was. However, she was all but entranced by her neighbor's delicious sneezing fits. Sure, they were neighbors and friends for three years, but now was the time to finally tell her how she felt all those years. 

Stefania's voluptuous bosom heaved as her breath hitched, her generous nostrils flaring. "Eh... EHH... Huhh'ASSHH'iew!" The sneeze was a sonorous crescendo, echoing through the hallway like a symphony of sniffles. Hannele felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched the display, her own nose, though red and stuffy from her cold, twitching with envy. "Oh, dio... Ahhh... HESCHHIEEW! HESCHH-OOO! ASHHH-IIIEW! Ahhh... Heh-ISSSCHH-IIEW!!" The voluminous sneezes nearly took Hannele's breath away. 

"B... Bless you. Huh... Hkk'TSCHH!" Hannele's sneeze was a stark contrast to the colossal sneezes from Stefania's huge nostrils. It was a sweet, almost melodious sound, the kind you'd expect from a porcelain doll with a button nose. Yet, it was filled with a quiet power that made Stefania's heart race. The two women looked at each other, their eyes locking in a moment of unspoken understanding. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the scent of pheromones and unspoken desires.

"I've... I've been so careless today," Stefania murmured, her hand absentmindedly reaching for another tissue. "I forgot to take my allergy medicine again."

Hannele's eyes lit up with excitement, and she took a step closer to her neighbor. Her own nose, though a sharp and pointed instrument of seduction, was currently held hostage by a cold that had her in its clutches. "Why don't you come in, love?" she said, her voice a sweet siren's call. "Let me take care of you."

"Oh, dear..." Stefania scrubbed the underside of her nose with an upward swipe of her hand, her already magnificent nostrils flaring at the touch. "That's what I..." Her brown eyes squeezed shut, her plump lips parting for an upcoming sneeze... Or many.

"Eh... Heh... Heh... EhTISSCCHOO! HihhTSCHOOO! AH-ESCHOOO! HASHOOO! Hehh'KTTSCHHIEEW!" Stefania's body convulsed with each powerful expulsion, her chest bouncing as she struggled to breathe between them. The sound was like a series of fireworks going off in the confined space, each one louder and more explosive than the last. Stefania's mouth remained ajar, her red lips shining in the moonlight. Hannele could see Stefania's pulsating nostrils, "Ahhh.... I have to snuhhh.... Sneeehhhhhze... Aghhh... Again..."

Hannele did something bold. She circled around to the suffering taller Italian woman, cupping a handkerchief over her nose. "Here..."

The slight brush of the handkerchief made Stefania pitch forward with a series of satisfying, wet sneezes. "Eh... Heh... H-Heh... EHHHH'ASCHOOOOO! EhTISSCCHOO! EhTISSCCHOO! EhTISSCCHOO! Oh... Hehh... Hihh... HERR'UHSSSHIEWW!" Stefania's eyes rolled back, the force of her sneezes so intense it was as if she were trying to dislodge a watermelon seed from the depths of her soul. Hannele watched in awe as the fabric of the handkerchief stretched and fluttered with each sneeze, the sound a symphony of pure ecstasy. She could feel her own cold-induced sneezes building, eager to join the crescendo.

"Bless you!!" Hannele smiled, "Are you quite all right?"

"Oh gosh... Hehh... I'm," gasped Stefania, her voice a nasal symphony of need. "I... I can't... Heh-Heh... EHKTSSCHOOO!" The sneeze sprayed all over Hannele as she accidentally missed.

Hannele pretended the explosive sneeze didn't happen at all, In fact, her own cold ridden nostrils flared widely. "HITSCH! HETCHIEW!" 

It was now Stefania's turn to react. "Annie, darling ... Are... allergies contagious now?" 

Hannele blew her own nose with a Kleenex. "Nah ... I... Have a cold." Her voice was like a seductive whisper, hinting at the impending storm of sneezes. 

Stefania quickly escorted Hannele to the couch. "I'm so sorry I sneezed everywhere. I was... Duh ... Dusting..." Her nostrils flared widely, but she pinched them shut, eager to keep the tickle at bay. "Oddio, quanto odio starnutire!" 

Hannele smiled, "So was I." This was a blatant lie. This was Hannele's plan all along. For the longest time, she liked - no - CRAVED for Stefania.

Stefania's eyes grew wide with surprise, her heart racing as she watched Hannele's slender fingers toy with the delicate tissue. "But you're always so... Heh... Heh... EHK-TSSCHOO!" A massive sneeze bellowed out of her, the tissue barely catching the aftermath. "I'm... I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as she felt a warmth spreading through her body that had nothing to do with her allergies.

Instead, Hannele did something even more daring. "That was adorable." Her voice was a gentle purr as she leaned in closer, her own nose, red and irritated from her cold, practically twitching with anticipation. "You know," she said, her breath warm and minty, "I've always found your sneezes quite... charming."

Stefania blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "Charming?" she repeated, her Italian accented voice a nasal whine. "They're a bloody nuisance, more like it." But even as she spoke, another sneeze grew within her, pushing at the back of her throat like a lover eager to be released.

Hannele's gaze remained locked on her, her own eyes shimmering with the beginnings of a sneeze. "There's something... captivating about them." Hannele plucked a tissue, and twisted it into a sharp point. Carefully, Hannele twirled the twisted tissue inside her right nostril, already feeling a cold sneeze bubble up.

Stefania felt a peculiar warmth in her stomach at the compliment, her nose twitching in response. "Well, if you say so. I thought my sneezes were too loud... and I sneeze too much."

"Loud, yes, but also powerful, like you," Hannele whispered, her hand reaching up to gently cup the back of Stefania's neck. "And I've always had a thing for..." Hannele hiccuped, the tickle in her nose growing to a crescendo. "HITSCHIIEW! ATSHIIEW! HATSHIEW! ETSHIEW!"

Suddenly, hearing the petite Dutch woman sneeze, the realization hit. Stefania's brown eyes widened. "You're into sneezing?!"

The blond woman nodded, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "I've had a sneezing fetish for as long as I can remember," she confessed, her eyes never leaving the Italian's face. "And yours... they're just..." she paused, searching for the right words. "Perfect."

Stefania's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, her heart racing faster than ever before. "But... but how? Why are my sneezes 'perfect'?" she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.

Hannele leaned in closer, her own nose quivering with the effort of holding back another sneeze. "There's something so... vulnerable about a person when they sneeze," she murmured, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of Stefania's ear. "It's like watching a bomb go off, but instead of destruction, there's this... explosive beauty. Your sneezes are powerful, strong, and beautiful... Just like you."

Stefania swallowed hard, the heat from Hannele's body seeping into her own. "I... I never thought of it that way," she managed, her eyes fluttering shut as a fresh wave of tickles danced along her huge nasal passages. "But I can't control.... Hehh, I can't control when I sneeze!"

"That's the beauty of it," Hannele murmured, her thumb brushing lightly over the bridge of Stefania's hooked nose. "Let go, sweetie," she encouraged, her voice a siren's call to the allergic woman's sneeze-ridden soul. "Let me see those gorgeous nostrils of yours flare again."

Stefania's breath hitched, the tickle in her nose growing more insistent. "Heh...  Oh, God... Hhh..." She felt the pressure build, her eyes watering as she fought back the sneeze.

"Ah..." The woman snatched the dead flowers from Stefania's hand, brushing the pollen filled flowers against an already burning nose. "Sniff."

The Italian's nose wrinkled as she tried to resist. "Eh... Heh... Hannele!" But it was too late. The explosion came, a symphony of "EHHH-SCHOOO! EHH-SCHOOO!" Her eyes squeezed shut, and her chest heaved, the sound echoing through the room like a series of drumrolls.

Hannele couldn't help but stifle a gleeful grin as she watched, her own nostrils flaring with the anticipation of what was to come. She knew she had just hit the jackpot. She leaned in closer, her cold-reddened nose almost touching the tip of the Italian's hooked one. "Again," she whispered, her voice a seductive caress that sent shivers down Stefania's spine. "Give me another one. I'll return the favor real soon."

Stefania's eyes widened, a hint of excitement mingling with the allergic distress. She tried to resist, but Hannele's proximity was too much. Her nose began to tickle anew, and she could feel the sneeze building like a volcano about to erupt. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." She took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling dramatically. "EHHHH'ASCHOOOOOO!" The sneeze was a force of nature, ripping from her lungs with the intensity of a tornado, her nose and mouth opening wide to let it free. The pollen from the flowers had found its way into her system, setting off an even more explosive reaction. "Huh... Hehh'KTTSCHHIEEW! Hehh... HESCHH-OOO! HASCHHOOOO!! Eh-EHHH'KKSCHOOO!" She sneezed again, the sound reverberating through the room, her breasts jiggling with the effort. 

"Hehh..." Hannele watched, her own nose twitching as she felt the beginnings of a sneeze. "Gorgeous..."

The ebony-haired woman rubbed her sculpted nostrils furiously, the aftermath being a red beacon of sniffles. "Ooh, this is annoying!!" Stefania sighed with exasperation. 

The blond woman held up the old bouquet, the petals wilted and drooping, but still potently allergic. "Maybe these will help?" she offered, her voice a silky purr that seemed to resonate within the very core of Stefania's being.

The reaction was instantaneous. Stefania's reddened nostrils flared twice their magnificent size. "EHH... Heh... ASSHOOOO!!" Her voice was a nasal crescendo of need, even when she did manage sneezing. The tickle just came back stronger and stronger. "HA... HAN.... TIHH... TISSUES!!"

Hannele's hand shot out like a whip, her cold-swollen fingers grabbing another tissue from the box. She placed it underneath the Italian's nose with a teasing smile. "Here, darling, blow."

Stefania took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the sneezes lurking just below the surface like a shiver waiting to break free. "Ohh, here it cuhh... Huhhh..." Her eyes squeezed shut, and she took the tissue with trembling hands, bracing herself for the inevitable. With a loud, wet "HESCHH-OOO! ASHHH-IIIEW! HAAAHH-SSSHHHOOOO!! Hrreshh'IEEEWWW!" she expelled four more sneezes into the fabric, the tissue fluttering and sticking to her face briefly before she pulled it away, revealing a gossamer web of mess.

Hannele's own nose quivered in anticipation as she watched the tissue, now a soggy mess, fall to the floor. "M... My turn ..." Hannele's nostrils flared wide for a cold sneeze. "Hehh... Hkk'TSCHH! Hkk'TSCHHiew! Ah-kitschh!" She sneezed thrice.

Stefania's brown eyes grew wide, watching as Hannele's delicate sneezes painted a picture of elegance in contrast to her own explosive ones. Despite her own misery, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of arousal at the sight of her neighbor's pointed nose wrinkling and her dainty sneezes. It was as if the universe had created a perfect symphony of sniffles and sneezes, and they were the only ones who could hear it.

"Stef," Hannele's voice was a sweet, sticky honey that dripped into the Italian's ears. "Why don't you sit down?" She gently nudged her towards the couch, the plush cushions seemingly calling out to her with a siren's song of comfort and relief.

Stefania complied, her body feeling heavier with each step as if the gravity of the situation was pulling her down. "I, uhh, should HAHH..." Her nose twitched, and she felt the sneezes lurking, ready to pounce like a pair of hungry tigers. "Ooh, it won't come out now!" Stefania waved a hand over her face with an unsatisfied whine.

Hannele hovered over her, a devilish grin playing on her lips as she took a feather from the downy pillow on the couch. "Let's see if this will do the trick," she murmured, her voice a sweet whisper that seemed to tickle the very insides of Stefania's ears.

Stefania felt a jolt of excitement mixed with dread as Hannele trailed the feather lightly along the bridge of her nose, her own nostrils flaring in response to the gentle touch. "Heh... Be cuhh... Careful..." she warned, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back the inevitable. 

"Come on, love," Hannele coaxed, her voice a warm embrace. "Just one more sneeze." The feather danced over the sensitive skin, sending shivers down the Italian's spine. "I know you want to."

Stefania's eyes flew open, her gaze locking with Hannele's. "But I... I can't control it!" she protested, her voice nasal and desperate. But the truth was, she didn't want to control it anymore. Not with Hannele's gentle touch, her caring eyes, and her sweet, convincing words.

Hannele leaned in closer, the feather poised like a conductor's baton over the symphony of sneezes waiting to be unleashed. "You don't have to," she murmured, her breath a warm whisper that danced around the edges of the Italian's nose. "Just let it happen."

With a flick of her wrist, Hannele tickled the feather against the base of Stefania's nostrils, watching with fascination as they quivered and flared like a pair of delicate butterfly wings. "Eh... Oh, my goodness..." The allergic woman's voice grew nasal and desperate, her body tensing as the tickle grew more persistent. Hannele could see the woman's nostrils grow with aching need. 

Wider...

Wider...

And wider...

Until....

"Ahhh..... Ahhh ...." Stefania's wide set nostrils were now expanded to twice their already gargantuan size. "Heh...!! ASSHOOOO!! HESCHH-OOO! HHH'ISSSCHHIIEWW!" Hannele's eyes grew wide as she watched the Italian's body convulse with pleasure from the sneezes. She could see the allergic woman's pulse pounding in her neck, her chest heaving with each breath. The sound was like a symphony to her ears, each sneeze a crescendo that made her own cold-ridden nose quiver with excitement. 

"That was wonderful." Hannele rasped. 

"I... Cahhh...." And this was it. Stefania's attempt to control the situation got lost. "HEHH'KTTSCHHIEEW!! Stahhh...  HUHH'ASSHH'IEW! Sdeehhh.... HEH!! HH-ASHOOOO! HHH'UUSSCHHIIEWW!!" At that point, Hannele cared less for the mess that began. Stefania's poor nostrils sprayed allergic mucus directly onto Hannele. It felt like a shower of ecstasy. Little did Stefania realize, Hannele already removed Stefania's jacket, which revealed huge bursting breasts.

The sight was so arousing Hannele couldn't help but let out another pair of sneezes of her own, her body trembling with excitement. "Eh... KSSHIEW! HH'KSSH-IEEW!!" 

"Heh... Hihh... uhhh..." Stefania took a deep, shuddering breath. "My ahhh.... Allergies..."

Hannele's cold-swollen nose quivered as she leaned in closer, her silver eyes alight with mischief. "Allow me to assist," she murmured, her voice a sweet promise that sent shivers down the Italian's spine.

With the grace of a ballerina performing a pirouette, Hannele produced a bottle of peppermint oil from her pocket. The potent scent filled the air, and before Stefania could protest, a single drop was placed gently on the tip of her hooked nose. The allergic woman's eyes shot open, her nostrils flaring like twin suns. "EH... Heh... Heh... EHHH'ISSCHH-OOO!" The sneeze was a volcanic eruption, her body arching back as the sound filled the room, raw and powerful.

Hannele watched with a mix of fascination and desire as the minty vapor danced around the edges of her neighbor's nose, tickling and teasing the sensitive skin. "Whoo..." The blond woman leaned in closer, her own cold-swollen nose almost touching the Italian's. "Just one more," she whispered, her voice a sweet symphony of persuasion.

Stefania felt the world around her fade away, her entire existence reduced to the tickle building within her. "Eh... Heh... Why am I sneezing... So... Huhhh... Much...?" Of course. Why did the Italian lady sneeze so much? Why, after three years of being neighbors, did it get to this point? Stefania's beautiful eyes grew glassy with need, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fight the sneeze. "H... Hannele..." she gasped, her voice nasal and desperate. "Why is it so hot?" At that, Stefania removed the purple bra, the beauty of her huge breasts coming to light. 

Hannele's eyes sparkled with delight, watching as the fabric fell away to reveal two beautiful, giant orbs of perfection. "It's just your body's way of responding to the pleasure," she murmured, her own nose quivering as she inhaled deeply. The scent of mint, dust, flowers and pollen mingled in the air, creating an intoxicating cocktail that had her knees weak. Her hand hovered over the peppermint oil bottle, a single drop glistening on her fingertip. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a seductive purr.

Stefania's eyes grew wide, her heart racing as she nodded. "Yes," she breathed, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. "Do it."

With a gentle flick of her wrist, Hannele sent the glistening drop of peppermint oil into the cavernous abyss of Stefania's right nostril. The reaction was instant and intense. "EHHHH'ASCHOOOOOOO!" The sneeze that followed was a sonic boom, the force of it causing the very fabric of the couch to vibrate beneath them. Hannele watched in amazement as the minty scent melded with the sweetness of pollen, creating a heady aroma that was uniquely theirs.

The Dutch woman took a step back to appreciate the full view of the allergic woman's glorious glistening nostrils, now flaring with each ragged breath she took. The sight was mesmerizing, a masterpiece of nature's beauty wrapped in a symphony of sniffles. "Heh... Heh... HAHH..." The tickle grew stronger, more insistent, as if it had a mind of its own, demanding to be set free. Stefania's brown eyes watered as she felt the pressure build, her nose wrinkling and her generous chest heaving. "Heh... Heh... EHHHH'ASCHOOOO!" Her sneeze was a declaration of war on the pollen that dared to invade her space, a powerful burst of air that sent the peppermint oil scent swirling through the room like a tornado of minty pleasure.

Hannele couldn't resist the urge to indulge in her own fetish anymore. With a dramatic flair, she unhooked her own bra, letting her small, perky breasts spring free from their confines. She tossed the lacy garment aside, the metal clanking against the floor like a gong announcing a new act in their sensual performance. "Heh... Heh... Heh..." She mimicked the Italian's nasal crescendo, her own sneezes building like a crescendo of need. "KSSHIEW! HKTSSCHIEW! HKSSHIEW!" The dainty sounds were a stark contrast to the explosive ones from her neighbor, yet they held their own allure, a delicate dance of sniffs and sneezes that had Stefania's eyes glued to her.

"Oh God... I'm gonna sdeehhhze.... ag-agahhhiiinnn..." Before they knew it, Stefania and Hannele were already on the couch stark naked. Stefania's reddened nostrils pulsated in protest and pleasure.

 Hannele watched with bated breath, her own cold-induced tickle growing stronger by the second. With a dramatic sniff, she brought a finger to her own nose, feeling the familiar tingle. "Heh... Me too..." Hannele echoed, her eyes glued to the mesmerizing sight of her partner's flared nostrils.

To her surprise, Stefania assisted. "Allow me, cara mia," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as she leaned in. Stefania plucked a feather from one of the old pillows, and started tickling Hannele's stuffy nose.

"Heh... Heh... Heh..." Hannele's eyes watered and her nose quivered as she felt the tickle build. "Stef..." she gasped, her voice nasal and needy. 

"Respira solo il profumo. Finirà presto." Stefania's beautiful voice purred in Hannele's ears. God, it felt like a fever dream finally coming to fruition. 

Hannele's cold ridden nostrils flared. "I can't... Heh... Heh..." But it was too late. With a graceful arch of her back, she let out a symphony of sneezes that seemed to dance in the air. "HKTSSHIEW! HKSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW!!" The sound was like a delicate whisper compared to the Italian's own thunderous eruptions.

"Salute... Hihhh... santo cielo... I cannot stop... Sneezing today..." At that point, Stefania's own allergic nose reacted to Hannele tickling her big nose with the same feather. Hannele couldn't help but grin as she watched the feather's dance become more intense, her own eyes watering with the effort of holding back. "Hiihh--ighh... IHH...!!" she gasped, feeling the sneeze build in the back of her throat. "Just... just a little more..." Stefania sniffled. 

With a wicked smile, Hannele complied, her heart racing as she watched the Italian's nose swell and pulse with every touch. The air grew thick with anticipation, charged with the electricity of their shared fetish. "Here you go, Stef. Just let it go."

"Ehhh.... hehh.... hahh..." Her nostrils flared wildly, and she sneezed freely, directly onto Hannele. "HHHAAASSSHHHOOO! Huhhh.... HASHOOO!! ISSHOOOO!! Huhh'ESCHHHIEW!"

And then it came. "EHH'KTSSCHH-IEWW! KTSSCHH-IEW! KTSSCHH-IEW!" Hannele's sneezes were like a string of pearls, delicate and refined, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

Stefania watched, her own nostrils quivering with the effort of holding back her next sets of sneezes. The sight of Hannele's oval nostrils flaring and closing with each sneeze was like watching a silent film starlet, her nose the star of the show. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The Italian whispered, her chest heaving as she felt the tickle in her own nose grow more insistent.

"You're so allergic, dear." At that point, Stefania's blue dress came off, revealing a pair of huge breasts. Stefania wore a red bra underneath, and that slid off, unchaining the beautiful bosom.

Hannele couldn't help but stare as the fabric hit the floor, her own sneezes growing in intensity. "Heh... Heh... Heh..." she sniffled, her eyes never leaving the sight of her neighbor's exposed chest. The peppermint oil had done its job, turning their innocent friendship into a sneezing frenzy of passion.

With a flick of the wrist, Stefania applied the oil to the feather and began to dance it around the edges of her large nose, her heart racing with excitement. "Heh... Heh..." The cold air in the room was thick with the scent of mint and the promise of more sneezes to come. With a dramatic flourish, she brought the feather closer to her right nostril, feeling the tickle build to a crescendo.

Hannele watched, her eyes glazed with desire as she felt the tickle in her own nose grow stronger. She couldn't resist any longer. With a sniff that was half sneeze, half moan, she let the feather do its magic. "Huhhh.... HIIIHHH..." Her nostrils quivered in time with the Italian's...

And then, with a grace that belied her own desperation, Hannele leaned back, her own nose a mere whisper of a sound compared to the volcanic eruptions that were coming from the woman in front of her. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The sneeze grew like a wave in the ocean, building until it was all she could think about. "HKSSHIEW!"

But Stefania had to sneeze so badly. Her nose was a volcano waiting to erupt, and Hannele's delicate ministrations had turned the simmering lava into an unstoppable force. "Heh... ahhh-huhhh-uhhh...huhhh..." With a wild look in her eyes, she grabbed the feather from Hannele's trembling hand and brought it to her own nose. The peppermint oil sizzled against her skin, sending a fresh wave of tickles through her nostrils. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." Her voice grew nasal and needy, a siren's song for the sneeze that was about to overtake her. "Oh, please... Heh... Uhh... It's... Stuck..."

With a wicked smile, Hannele leaned back, her own nose still quivering from the recent sneeze. She watched as the Italian woman's breasts bobbed with every inhale, her nipples tight with anticipation. "Let it out, love," she murmured, her voice a sweet, sweet promise. "Let me see those glorious nostrils of yours flare again."

With a flick of the feather, Hannele sent it skimming over the ridge of her own nose, her eyes watering as she felt the tickle build. "HiiihhHHH!!" Her body tensed, her chest rising and falling as she took in the sight before her. The feather hovered just above her left nostril, the minty scent of the oil growing stronger with every passing second. And then, with a grace that seemed to defy gravity, she sneezed. "HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was a delicate symphony, a sweet release of the pressure that had been building within her.

Stefania's eyes grew wide, her own nose quivering in response. "Ahh... Heh... Heh..." She watched as Hannele's naked breasts jiggled with the force of her sneeze. The sight was almost too much to bear, her own allergies forgotten in the face of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of watching Hannele sneeze. Stefania then slowly lifted the tip of her nose up, squishing the underside into the fold of Hannele's neck.

"Eh... Heh... uhh-IIHHH..." Hannele felt the warmth of Stefania's breath against her skin, her own body responding in kind. The tickle grew stronger, more demanding. "Stef," she whispered, her voice nasal and strained, "I can't... Heh... Heh..."

"I'm... Coming..." At that point, Stefania's wide nostrils expanded past the point of no return. A glorious sneezing fit shook Stefania's frame. "EHHH'ISSSCHIIIEW! Haaahh-CHHHOOOOOOOO! HA-ESCHHHOOOOOO! HA-YISSSCHOO! HUHH'ASSHH'IEW!!" The room was filled with the thunderous sound of her release, the vibration of her sneezes resonating through the very walls of the apartment. Hannele watched with a mix of amazement and arousal, her own cold-swollen nose quivering with envy. The Italian's huge breasts bounced with the power of her sneezes, the sight making Hannele's heart race faster than a stampede of wild horses.

"Bless..." The word was barely out of Hannele's mouth before she was hit by the full force of her own sneezing fit. "Heh... oh god..." Her nose twitched uncontrollably, the peppermint oil sending waves of pleasure crashing through her senses. "HKTSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, delicate yet powerful in its own right, as she succumbed to the irresistible urge to sneeze. Each sneeze was a symphony of sound, a testament to the depth of their shared fetish.

Stefania watched, her eyes glued to the sight of Hannele's nose, the sharp point flaring and retreating with each delicate explosion. Her heart raced with excitement, her own nostrils quivering as she felt the tickle in her nose growing stronger by the second. "Heh... *snnnff* Ahhh... Huhh... Oh God..." she murmured, her voice thick with the promise of the sneeze that was building within her.

With a gentle touch, Hannele placed her hand on the side of Stefania's face, turning her towards the light. "Look at me, love," she whispered, her own eyes watering with anticipation. "Let me see your nostrils flare."

Stefania's nostrils quivered like a pair of huge manholes, the anticipation of the impending sneeze making her entire body quiver. "Heh... Heh... Uhh..." With a deep inhale, she leaned in closer to Hannele, her eyes never leaving hers. "Eh... Heh..." The tickle grew, a wildfire spreading through her sinuses, threatening to consume her.

With a gentle caress, Hannele traced the line of the Italian's hooked nose, her fingertip lightly brushing the flared nostrils. "So beautiful," she murmured, her own voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of a sneeze. "I'm uhh... Gonna come with you being like this..." The feather hovered just out of reach, a teasing promise of the sneeze that was to come.

Stefania felt the heat from Hannele's hand on her face, her skin tingling as the tickle grew stronger. "Annie," she breathed, her voice a nasal whine. "I can't... Uhhh... Huh... hold it back..." Her body was a tightly coiled spring, ready to unleash the sneeze that had been building within her.

Hannele's eyes shimmered with excitement as she watched the Italian's nose twitch and pulse. "Just let it happen," she whispered, her own breath hitching as the tickle in her nose grew more intense. "Let it all out."

"Heh... Heh..." With a whimper that was almost a sigh, Stefania gave in to the inevitable. The sneeze grew, swelling like a balloon about to pop. "EHHH-TSSSCHH-IIIIEWW! Heh-ISSSCHH-IIEW! HERR'UHSSSHIEWW! HHHAAASSSHHHOOO! HihhTSCHOOO! Hrreshh'IEEEWWW!" Her sneezes were powerful, the power of it knocking the very air out of the room. The wetness then formed inside Stefania's silk panties.

Hannele's own nose was a symphony of sniffles and sneezes, each one more delicate and refined than the last. "ETSHIEW! Heh... Heh..." She couldn't help but be drawn into the maelstrom of sneezes, her body responding to the siren's call of her neighbor's allergies. "Oh, Stef..." she whispered, her voice nasal and strained, her eyes never leaving the mesmerizing sight of the Italian's flared nostrils. 

Stefania removed her panties, revealing a nearly shaved vagina that looked already drenched.The room was a cacophony of sniffles, sneezes, and the rustling of fabric as the two women fed into their shared passion. Their eyes never left each other's, the connection between them stronger than any pollen in the room could ever be. "Jesus... Wow... Um..." Hannele's nose quivered with anticipation as she watched the Italian's nostrils flare like bellows.

"Allow me," she murmured, reaching for the feather once more. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing over the landscape of her neighbor's face, tracing the fullness of her lips and the sharp slope of her nose before delicately tickling the tip. "Eh... Ahh... eh... Heh..." Stefania's eyes grew wide, her body arching as the feather grazed the sensitive skin of her nose.

The Italian's nostrils flared with each shallow breath she took, the tickle growing into a crescendo that seemed to echo the throb between her legs. "Heh... Heh..." Hannele watched with rapt attention, her own nose quivering as she felt the beginnings of another sneeze build within her. "Stef... I can't..."

With a sudden jerk of her hand, Hannele brought the feather closer to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil sending a fresh wave of tickles through her. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The anticipation was unbearable, her body tight with the need to sneeze. And then it happened. With a dainty sniff, she released a sneeze that was as elegant as it was explosive. "HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was like a whispered promise, her oval nostrils flaring and closing with the grace of a ballerina.

Stefania felt her own body respond to the sight, her nipples hardening as she watched the symphony of sneezes play out before her. "Ahh... Heh... Heh..." Her hand reached out, her fingers lightly grazing Hannele's cheek as she felt the sneeze build. "Let me do that for you," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate in the very air around them. Stefania fanned her nostrils furiously, beckoning the sneezes to come.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the feather dancing over Hannele's nose, the peppermint scent a sweet agony as it tickled her wayward neighbor. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." Hannele's eyes grew wide, her chest rising and falling as she tried to hold back the sneeze. But it was no use. With a delicate sniff, she gave in to the inevitable. "EhTSSHIEW!" The sound was like a butterfly's kiss, so soft and yet so powerful that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

And then...The room grew thick with anticipation, the air charged with the electricity of a summer storm. "Huhhh...." The Italian woman hugged her neighbor, yet another series of sneezes starting to brew in her magnificent nose. "Heh... Heh... Heh..."

Hannele's eyes grew dark with desire as she felt the vibrations of the tickle against her own nose. "Stefania, darling, you're so... allergic," she whispered, her voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of her own sneezes. "It's so... intoxicating."

"They.... are?"

Hannele needn't answer, as the answer was already in full display. The feather hovered between them, a silent conductor orchestrating their symphony of sniffs and sneezes. With a mischievous smile, Hannele leaned in closer, her nose grazing the softness of the Italian's cheek. "Your allergies are so hot, Steffie…" she murmured, her breath hot and minty against Stefania's ear.

"Huhh... Uhh... Ahhh..." The taller woman's breathing grew ragged, her hand moving to cover her mouth as another sneeze fought for release. "But what if I ruin your cuhh... cold?" she asked, her voice nasal and teasing.

Hannele leaned into the warmth of the Italian's embrace, her nose quivering against her cheek. "Oh, you couldn't," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with mischief. "It's just a cold, after all. Besides," she paused, her voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I've always wanted to feel your sneezes up close."

Much to her luck, Stefania's beautiful nose flared, and she sneezed head first into Hannele's chest. The dizzying fit that resulted was powerful, soaking the folds of Hannele's petite chest. "HhEHH-ESCHHHOOO! Hah-USHHHIEEW!! Ehh-HASCHHOOO! HASCHHOOOO! HIH-SHHIEEWW! Huh... Huh... HUH-UHH-SCHOOO!! ASCHHOOOO! HASCHOOO! IHH-ESCHHOOO!!!" Stefania sniffled, trying to regain control that was long lost. "Ih... Uhh .. I - ahhh - ASCHHOOOO!!"

"Wow, my freaking.... I love you... A million times." Hannele smiled, blushing hard. "Wow, that was hot."

"Was it?" The Italian's voice was hoarse, stuffy and sweet, the sneezes leaving her breathless. She sniffled again, her brown eyes searching Hannele's silver eyes for any sign of a lie. 

"That was wonderful, Steffie."

"I'm glad..." The Italian's voice was nasal and sweet, a symphony of allergies and arousal. Hannele's heart skipped a beat, her own nose quivering in response.

"Well, I..." With a gentle hand, Hannele guided the feather back to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil a tantalizing promise. "Got a little tickle..." Her breath grew shallower, her chest heaving as the tickle grew stronger. And then, with a delicate sniff, she released another sneeze, her oval nostrils flaring like the wings of a moth in the night. "HKTSSHIEW!" 

"Salute." Unable to control herself, Stefania reached over for a languid kiss.Their lips met in a dance of sneezes, a ballet of sniffles and whimpers. The feather was forgotten as their bodies melded together, the scent of pollen and mint mingling in the air. 

Hannele's arms wrapped around her naked neighbor, kissing as they did. Being covered in saliva from the sneeze attack, Hannele asked, "Do you have a husband?"

"No. Never had a lover in my life." Stefania's nose twitched. "Forty years of loneliness, changed by you."

"But you're so beautiful," Hannele whispered, her eyes never leaving the Italian's face. "How did you live forty years without love?"

"I've kept to myself, even back in Italy." Stefania's nose twitched again, this time in preparation for yet another impending fit. "Ooh, my nose itches so much... I can hardly concentrate."

Hannele's own sniffles grew louder, the scent of peppermint oil and pollen mixing with their ragged breaths. "Let me," she whispered, her hand reaching for the feather once more. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing across the Italian's face, tracing the curve of her hooked nose and the softness of her plump lips. 

Stefania's nostrils flared as the feather danced across her sensitive nose. "Ooh, it's a... Working... Kee... Keep going..."

Hannele obliged, her heart racing with excitement as she watched the Italian's body tense. The room was alive with the sound of their sneezes, each one feeding the other's arousal. 

"Oh God..." With each gentle tickle, Hannele felt her own cold-ridden nose twitch, eager to join in the symphony. "You're so... so allergic... So beautiful." She whispered, her voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of a sneeze.

"Heh... Heh..." The Italian's body quivered, her eyes never leaving Hannele's. "And... and you're so... so sweet," she replied, her voice a nasal whine that was music to Hannele's ears.

The blond woman leaned in closer, her own nostrils flaring as she felt the pressure build in her own nose. "Sweet, yes, but also..." With a flick of her wrist, she brought the feather up to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil sending a fresh wave of tickles through her. "EHH-TSSHIEW!" The sneeze was as delicate as a whisper, yet it resonated through the room like a lover's moan.

Stefania watched, her eyes dark with desire as she felt her own nostrils quiver in response. "Oh Annie..." she murmured, her voice a nasal symphony of need. "That was... exquisite."

Hannele's own nostrils flared, the heat from their passionate kiss still lingering on her lips. "I've always wanted to..." She struggled to find the words, her own sneeze building, "Wanted to... EhTSSHIEW! HETCHIEW!" She sneezed again, her eyes watering with the effort to hold back the next one.

Stefania's gaze was filled with curiosity, her heart racing as she watched Hannele's delicate sneezes. "Did you want to go further?" she whispered, her own nose twitching.

"I've... I've always wanted to have a wife." Hannele confessed. "I... I didn't know we could be attracted to each other this much."

"You... You want me to be your wife?" The Italian's eyes grew wide with surprise. Her nose twitched, a sneeze forming. "But... I'm your neighbor! How can we .... Ooh..." The burn inside her big nostrils gradually increased. 

"It'll be all right..."

With a gentle touch, Hannele brushed a strand of hair from Stefania's sweaty forehead. The Italian's sneezes had become more frequent, her nose a beacon of redness and swollen beauty. "You know," she murmured, her voice nasal but filled with a lilt that was anything but cold, "I've always been a bit of a... collector."

"Oh, of... Uhh, what?" 

Hannele leaned in closer, her nose quivering with the effort to hold back the sneeze that was now threatening to escape. "You know... Collecting... moments," she managed to say, her voice nasal and thick with desire. "Moments like this... Sneezes... So... intimate..."

Stefania's heart raced as the meaning behind her neighbor's words sank in. "I've never thought of it like that," she murmured, her own nostrils flaring as she felt the tickle in her nose grow stronger. "But... but what if... Uhhh... ooh... What if my allergies are too much?"

"They're never too much for me." The Dutch woman replied, silver eyes smiling directly at Stefania's nose.

"But, I mean, we're juhh... Ehh... HIH-ISHHHOOO!! ASSHOOOO!! HESCHH-OOO! ISCHHOOO!!" Another explosive set of sneezes rocked through the Italian's body, leaving her panting. "We're just neighbors, Hannele. Surely, you can't want... A... Huhh... Hehh'URSCHHIEEWW! You wouldn't want such a sneezy woman like me."

The blond woman chuckled, the sound as soft and sweet as a dainty sneeze. "But that's exactly why I do," she whispered, her hand tracing the line of the Italian's jaw. "Every time you sneeze, it's like watching a masterpiece unfold before my very eyes."

Stefania felt a blush spread across her cheeks, the heat of it as intense as the pollen in the air. "I... I don't know what to say," she stuttered, her voice nasal and thick with emotion. "I... I..." Before Stefania knew it, Hannele pulled her forward with a languid kiss, their bodies melding into one.

Their tongues danced together, a symphony of sweetness and mint, a dance of desire that seemed to mirror their shared love for sneezes. As they kissed, the tickle in Hannele's nose grew stronger, until she couldn't hold it back any longer. "Heh... Heh..." With a sniff, she gave in to the sneeze that had been building, the sound of it like the delicate chime of a bell. "EhTSSHIEW! Hkk'TSCHHiew!"

"Bless... Hihh... Y-you..." Stefania tried to bless her, but her own nose was going crazy with tickles.

Hannele's eyes grew wide with excitement, her own cold-induced sneezes building in intensity. "You know, Steffie," she murmured, her voice nasal and thick with mischief, "I've read that sometimes... a good, deep kiss can help relieve the tickle in your nose."

Stefania's heart raced as she took in Hannele's words, her own nostrils quivering in anticipation. "Is that a... a medical fact?" she asked, her voice nasal and hopeful. "Because, huh... I... Ohh, heh... HEHH'URSCHHIEEWW! Uh'ESCHHIEEWW! Huhh'ESCHHHIEW!" The sneezes coated Hannele's chest.

Hannele pulled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else—desire. "It's a... alternative remedy," she said, her own nose twitching with the beginnings of a sneeze. "But it's definitely worth a try, don't you think?”

"Ehh’HESHUHhh!" An allergic sneeze reverberated through the apartment complex.

The door to 3B swung open with a gentle creak, revealing the source of the explosive sound. Stefania Cavataio, with her nose so hooked it looked like it had been drawn with a single stroke of a cartoonist's pen, stepped into the hallway, her brown eyes watering and her cheeks flushed. Her long black hair was flowing down to her waist. She clutched a bouquet of wilted flowers in one hand and her tissue box in the other. The pollen count was higher than usual, and it was wreaking havoc on her sinuses. Her nostrils flared widely as another sneeze threatened to take hold of her. "Eh... Hehh... HEHH!!"

Her neighbor, Hannele Klein, emerged from her apartment, her own nose a sleek and sharp contrast to Stefania's. Her oval nostrils quivered as she took in the scene. Her short blond hair and silver eyes were signs of a true Scandinavian. Despite her own congested state, she couldn't help but feel a thrill at the sight of Stefania's distress. "Stef," she cooed, her voice a smooth caress, "why don't you come inside? My flowers are all dead from the cold, so they shouldn't bother you too much."

Stefania looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and watery. "Thanks," she sniffled, her voice nasal and thick with the promise of another sneeze. "But I don't want to bug y-you... Huuuh-uhhh...." Her prominent, giant nostrils flared to twice their size. 

Hannele placed a finger under Stefania's large nose, the allergic tickle temporarily subsiding.

"Heh... UHHHHhh... Thank you, Annie," she whispered, her voice shaking with the effort of staving off another sneeze. Stefania's brown eyes gazed at Hannele's silver eyes. Stefania was much taller than Hannele, standing at 5 ft 11 in with long black hair. Her hooked nose twitched violently. "Oh, cara mia..."

"Oh dear..." Hannele pretended to be concerned. For once, she was. However, she was all but entranced by her neighbor's delicious sneezing fits. Sure, they were neighbors and friends for three years, but now was the time to finally tell her how she felt all those years. 

Stefania's voluptuous bosom heaved as her breath hitched, her generous nostrils flaring. "Eh... EHH... Huhh'ASSHH'iew!" The sneeze was a sonorous crescendo, echoing through the hallway like a symphony of sniffles. Hannele felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched the display, her own nose, though red and stuffy from her cold, twitching with envy. "Oh, dio... Ahhh... HESCHHIEEW! HESCHH-OOO! ASHHH-IIIEW! Ahhh... Heh-ISSSCHH-IIEW!!" The voluminous sneezes nearly took Hannele's breath away. 

"B... Bless you. Huh... Hkk'TSCHH!" Hannele's sneeze was a stark contrast to the colossal sneezes from Stefania's huge nostrils. It was a sweet, almost melodious sound, the kind you'd expect from a porcelain doll with a button nose. Yet, it was filled with a quiet power that made Stefania's heart race. The two women looked at each other, their eyes locking in a moment of unspoken understanding. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the scent of pheromones and unspoken desires.

"I've... I've been so careless today," Stefania murmured, her hand absentmindedly reaching for another tissue. "I forgot to take my allergy medicine again."

Hannele's eyes lit up with excitement, and she took a step closer to her neighbor. Her own nose, though a sharp and pointed instrument of seduction, was currently held hostage by a cold that had her in its clutches. "Why don't you come in, love?" she said, her voice a sweet siren's call. "Let me take care of you."

"Oh, dear..." Stefania scrubbed the underside of her nose with an upward swipe of her hand, her already magnificent nostrils flaring at the touch. "That's what I..." Her brown eyes squeezed shut, her plump lips parting for an upcoming sneeze... Or many.

"Eh... Heh... Heh... EhTISSCCHOO! HihhTSCHOOO! AH-ESCHOOO! HASHOOO! Hehh'KTTSCHHIEEW!" Stefania's body convulsed with each powerful expulsion, her chest bouncing as she struggled to breathe between them. The sound was like a series of fireworks going off in the confined space, each one louder and more explosive than the last. Stefania's mouth remained ajar, her red lips shining in the moonlight. Hannele could see Stefania's pulsating nostrils, "Ahhh.... I have to snuhhh.... Sneeehhhhhze... Aghhh... Again..."

Hannele did something bold. She circled around to the suffering taller Italian woman, cupping a handkerchief over her nose. "Here..."

The slight brush of the handkerchief made Stefania pitch forward with a series of satisfying, wet sneezes. "Eh... Heh... H-Heh... EHHHH'ASCHOOOOO! EhTISSCCHOO! EhTISSCCHOO! EhTISSCCHOO! Oh... Hehh... Hihh... HERR'UHSSSHIEWW!" Stefania's eyes rolled back, the force of her sneezes so intense it was as if she were trying to dislodge a watermelon seed from the depths of her soul. Hannele watched in awe as the fabric of the handkerchief stretched and fluttered with each sneeze, the sound a symphony of pure ecstasy. She could feel her own cold-induced sneezes building, eager to join the crescendo.

"Bless you!!" Hannele smiled, "Are you quite all right?"

"Oh gosh... Hehh... I'm," gasped Stefania, her voice a nasal symphony of need. "I... I can't... Heh-Heh... EHKTSSCHOOO!" The sneeze sprayed all over Hannele as she accidentally missed.

Hannele pretended the explosive sneeze didn't happen at all, In fact, her own cold ridden nostrils flared widely. "HITSCH! HETCHIEW!" 

It was now Stefania's turn to react. "Annie, darling ... Are... allergies contagious now?" 

Hannele blew her own nose with a Kleenex. "Nah ... I... Have a cold." Her voice was like a seductive whisper, hinting at the impending storm of sneezes. 

Stefania quickly escorted Hannele to the couch. "I'm so sorry I sneezed everywhere. I was... Duh ... Dusting..." Her nostrils flared widely, but she pinched them shut, eager to keep the tickle at bay. "Oddio, quanto odio starnutire!" 

Hannele smiled, "So was I." This was a blatant lie. This was Hannele's plan all along. For the longest time, she liked - no - CRAVED for Stefania.

Stefania's eyes grew wide with surprise, her heart racing as she watched Hannele's slender fingers toy with the delicate tissue. "But you're always so... Heh... Heh... EHK-TSSCHOO!" A massive sneeze bellowed out of her, the tissue barely catching the aftermath. "I'm... I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as she felt a warmth spreading through her body that had nothing to do with her allergies.

Instead, Hannele did something even more daring. "That was adorable." Her voice was a gentle purr as she leaned in closer, her own nose, red and irritated from her cold, practically twitching with anticipation. "You know," she said, her breath warm and minty, "I've always found your sneezes quite... charming."

Stefania blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "Charming?" she repeated, her Italian accented voice a nasal whine. "They're a bloody nuisance, more like it." But even as she spoke, another sneeze grew within her, pushing at the back of her throat like a lover eager to be released.

Hannele's gaze remained locked on her, her own eyes shimmering with the beginnings of a sneeze. "There's something... captivating about them." Hannele plucked a tissue, and twisted it into a sharp point. Carefully, Hannele twirled the twisted tissue inside her right nostril, already feeling a cold sneeze bubble up.

Stefania felt a peculiar warmth in her stomach at the compliment, her nose twitching in response. "Well, if you say so. I thought my sneezes were too loud... and I sneeze too much."

"Loud, yes, but also powerful, like you," Hannele whispered, her hand reaching up to gently cup the back of Stefania's neck. "And I've always had a thing for..." Hannele hiccuped, the tickle in her nose growing to a crescendo. "HITSCHIIEW! ATSHIIEW! HATSHIEW! ETSHIEW!"

Suddenly, hearing the petite Dutch woman sneeze, the realization hit. Stefania's brown eyes widened. "You're into sneezing?!"

The blond woman nodded, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "I've had a sneezing fetish for as long as I can remember," she confessed, her eyes never leaving the Italian's face. "And yours... they're just..." she paused, searching for the right words. "Perfect."

Stefania's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, her heart racing faster than ever before. "But... but how? Why are my sneezes 'perfect'?" she managed to ask, her voice barely a whisper.

Hannele leaned in closer, her own nose quivering with the effort of holding back another sneeze. "There's something so... vulnerable about a person when they sneeze," she murmured, her breath tickling the sensitive skin of Stefania's ear. "It's like watching a bomb go off, but instead of destruction, there's this... explosive beauty. Your sneezes are powerful, strong, and beautiful... Just like you."

Stefania swallowed hard, the heat from Hannele's body seeping into her own. "I... I never thought of it that way," she managed, her eyes fluttering shut as a fresh wave of tickles danced along her huge nasal passages. "But I can't control.... Hehh, I can't control when I sneeze!"

"That's the beauty of it," Hannele murmured, her thumb brushing lightly over the bridge of Stefania's hooked nose. "Let go, sweetie," she encouraged, her voice a siren's call to the allergic woman's sneeze-ridden soul. "Let me see those gorgeous nostrils of yours flare again."

Stefania's breath hitched, the tickle in her nose growing more insistent. "Heh...  Oh, God... Hhh..." She felt the pressure build, her eyes watering as she fought back the sneeze.

"Ah..." The woman snatched the dead flowers from Stefania's hand, brushing the pollen filled flowers against an already burning nose. "Sniff."

The Italian's nose wrinkled as she tried to resist. "Eh... Heh... Hannele!" But it was too late. The explosion came, a symphony of "EHHH-SCHOOO! EHH-SCHOOO!" Her eyes squeezed shut, and her chest heaved, the sound echoing through the room like a series of drumrolls.

Hannele couldn't help but stifle a gleeful grin as she watched, her own nostrils flaring with the anticipation of what was to come. She knew she had just hit the jackpot. She leaned in closer, her cold-reddened nose almost touching the tip of the Italian's hooked one. "Again," she whispered, her voice a seductive caress that sent shivers down Stefania's spine. "Give me another one. I'll return the favor real soon."

Stefania's eyes widened, a hint of excitement mingling with the allergic distress. She tried to resist, but Hannele's proximity was too much. Her nose began to tickle anew, and she could feel the sneeze building like a volcano about to erupt. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." She took a deep, shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling dramatically. "EHHHH'ASCHOOOOOO!" The sneeze was a force of nature, ripping from her lungs with the intensity of a tornado, her nose and mouth opening wide to let it free. The pollen from the flowers had found its way into her system, setting off an even more explosive reaction. "Huh... Hehh'KTTSCHHIEEW! Hehh... HESCHH-OOO! HASCHHOOOO!! Eh-EHHH'KKSCHOOO!" She sneezed again, the sound reverberating through the room, her breasts jiggling with the effort. 

"Hehh..." Hannele watched, her own nose twitching as she felt the beginnings of a sneeze. "Gorgeous..."

The ebony-haired woman rubbed her sculpted nostrils furiously, the aftermath being a red beacon of sniffles. "Ooh, this is annoying!!" Stefania sighed with exasperation. 

The blond woman held up the old bouquet, the petals wilted and drooping, but still potently allergic. "Maybe these will help?" she offered, her voice a silky purr that seemed to resonate within the very core of Stefania's being.

The reaction was instantaneous. Stefania's reddened nostrils flared twice their magnificent size. "EHH... Heh... ASSHOOOO!!" Her voice was a nasal crescendo of need, even when she did manage sneezing. The tickle just came back stronger and stronger. "HA... HAN.... TIHH... TISSUES!!"

Hannele's hand shot out like a whip, her cold-swollen fingers grabbing another tissue from the box. She placed it underneath the Italian's nose with a teasing smile. "Here, darling, blow."

Stefania took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the sneezes lurking just below the surface like a shiver waiting to break free. "Ohh, here it cuhh... Huhhh..." Her eyes squeezed shut, and she took the tissue with trembling hands, bracing herself for the inevitable. With a loud, wet "HESCHH-OOO! ASHHH-IIIEW! HAAAHH-SSSHHHOOOO!! Hrreshh'IEEEWWW!" she expelled four more sneezes into the fabric, the tissue fluttering and sticking to her face briefly before she pulled it away, revealing a gossamer web of mess.

Hannele's own nose quivered in anticipation as she watched the tissue, now a soggy mess, fall to the floor. "M... My turn ..." Hannele's nostrils flared wide for a cold sneeze. "Hehh... Hkk'TSCHH! Hkk'TSCHHiew! Ah-kitschh!" She sneezed thrice.

Stefania's brown eyes grew wide, watching as Hannele's delicate sneezes painted a picture of elegance in contrast to her own explosive ones. Despite her own misery, she couldn't help but feel a strange sense of arousal at the sight of her neighbor's pointed nose wrinkling and her dainty sneezes. It was as if the universe had created a perfect symphony of sniffles and sneezes, and they were the only ones who could hear it.

"Stef," Hannele's voice was a sweet, sticky honey that dripped into the Italian's ears. "Why don't you sit down?" She gently nudged her towards the couch, the plush cushions seemingly calling out to her with a siren's song of comfort and relief.

Stefania complied, her body feeling heavier with each step as if the gravity of the situation was pulling her down. "I, uhh, should HAHH..." Her nose twitched, and she felt the sneezes lurking, ready to pounce like a pair of hungry tigers. "Ooh, it won't come out now!" Stefania waved a hand over her face with an unsatisfied whine.

Hannele hovered over her, a devilish grin playing on her lips as she took a feather from the downy pillow on the couch. "Let's see if this will do the trick," she murmured, her voice a sweet whisper that seemed to tickle the very insides of Stefania's ears.

Stefania felt a jolt of excitement mixed with dread as Hannele trailed the feather lightly along the bridge of her nose, her own nostrils flaring in response to the gentle touch. "Heh... Be cuhh... Careful..." she warned, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back the inevitable. 

"Come on, love," Hannele coaxed, her voice a warm embrace. "Just one more sneeze." The feather danced over the sensitive skin, sending shivers down the Italian's spine. "I know you want to."

Stefania's eyes flew open, her gaze locking with Hannele's. "But I... I can't control it!" she protested, her voice nasal and desperate. But the truth was, she didn't want to control it anymore. Not with Hannele's gentle touch, her caring eyes, and her sweet, convincing words.

Hannele leaned in closer, the feather poised like a conductor's baton over the symphony of sneezes waiting to be unleashed. "You don't have to," she murmured, her breath a warm whisper that danced around the edges of the Italian's nose. "Just let it happen."

With a flick of her wrist, Hannele tickled the feather against the base of Stefania's nostrils, watching with fascination as they quivered and flared like a pair of delicate butterfly wings. "Eh... Oh, my goodness..." The allergic woman's voice grew nasal and desperate, her body tensing as the tickle grew more persistent. Hannele could see the woman's nostrils grow with aching need. 

Wider...

Wider...

And wider...

Until....

"Ahhh..... Ahhh ...." Stefania's wide set nostrils were now expanded to twice their already gargantuan size. "Heh...!! ASSHOOOO!! HESCHH-OOO! HHH'ISSSCHHIIEWW!" Hannele's eyes grew wide as she watched the Italian's body convulse with pleasure from the sneezes. She could see the allergic woman's pulse pounding in her neck, her chest heaving with each breath. The sound was like a symphony to her ears, each sneeze a crescendo that made her own cold-ridden nose quiver with excitement. 

"That was wonderful." Hannele rasped. 

"I... Cahhh...." And this was it. Stefania's attempt to control the situation got lost. "HEHH'KTTSCHHIEEW!! Stahhh...  HUHH'ASSHH'IEW! Sdeehhh.... HEH!! HH-ASHOOOO! HHH'UUSSCHHIIEWW!!" At that point, Hannele cared less for the mess that began. Stefania's poor nostrils sprayed allergic mucus directly onto Hannele. It felt like a shower of ecstasy. Little did Stefania realize, Hannele already removed Stefania's jacket, which revealed huge bursting breasts.

The sight was so arousing Hannele couldn't help but let out another pair of sneezes of her own, her body trembling with excitement. "Eh... KSSHIEW! HH'KSSH-IEEW!!" 

"Heh... Hihh... uhhh..." Stefania took a deep, shuddering breath. "My ahhh.... Allergies..."

Hannele's cold-swollen nose quivered as she leaned in closer, her silver eyes alight with mischief. "Allow me to assist," she murmured, her voice a sweet promise that sent shivers down the Italian's spine.

With the grace of a ballerina performing a pirouette, Hannele produced a bottle of peppermint oil from her pocket. The potent scent filled the air, and before Stefania could protest, a single drop was placed gently on the tip of her hooked nose. The allergic woman's eyes shot open, her nostrils flaring like twin suns. "EH... Heh... Heh... EHHH'ISSCHH-OOO!" The sneeze was a volcanic eruption, her body arching back as the sound filled the room, raw and powerful.

Hannele watched with a mix of fascination and desire as the minty vapor danced around the edges of her neighbor's nose, tickling and teasing the sensitive skin. "Whoo..." The blond woman leaned in closer, her own cold-swollen nose almost touching the Italian's. "Just one more," she whispered, her voice a sweet symphony of persuasion.

Stefania felt the world around her fade away, her entire existence reduced to the tickle building within her. "Eh... Heh... Why am I sneezing... So... Huhhh... Much...?" Of course. Why did the Italian lady sneeze so much? Why, after three years of being neighbors, did it get to this point? Stefania's beautiful eyes grew glassy with need, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fight the sneeze. "H... Hannele..." she gasped, her voice nasal and desperate. "Why is it so hot?" At that, Stefania removed the purple bra, the beauty of her huge breasts coming to light. 

Hannele's eyes sparkled with delight, watching as the fabric fell away to reveal two beautiful, giant orbs of perfection. "It's just your body's way of responding to the pleasure," she murmured, her own nose quivering as she inhaled deeply. The scent of mint, dust, flowers and pollen mingled in the air, creating an intoxicating cocktail that had her knees weak. Her hand hovered over the peppermint oil bottle, a single drop glistening on her fingertip. "Ready?" she asked, her voice a seductive purr.

Stefania's eyes grew wide, her heart racing as she nodded. "Yes," she breathed, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. "Do it."

With a gentle flick of her wrist, Hannele sent the glistening drop of peppermint oil into the cavernous abyss of Stefania's right nostril. The reaction was instant and intense. "EHHHH'ASCHOOOOOOO!" The sneeze that followed was a sonic boom, the force of it causing the very fabric of the couch to vibrate beneath them. Hannele watched in amazement as the minty scent melded with the sweetness of pollen, creating a heady aroma that was uniquely theirs.

The Dutch woman took a step back to appreciate the full view of the allergic woman's glorious glistening nostrils, now flaring with each ragged breath she took. The sight was mesmerizing, a masterpiece of nature's beauty wrapped in a symphony of sniffles. "Heh... Heh... HAHH..." The tickle grew stronger, more insistent, as if it had a mind of its own, demanding to be set free. Stefania's brown eyes watered as she felt the pressure build, her nose wrinkling and her generous chest heaving. "Heh... Heh... EHHHH'ASCHOOOO!" Her sneeze was a declaration of war on the pollen that dared to invade her space, a powerful burst of air that sent the peppermint oil scent swirling through the room like a tornado of minty pleasure.

Hannele couldn't resist the urge to indulge in her own fetish anymore. With a dramatic flair, she unhooked her own bra, letting her small, perky breasts spring free from their confines. She tossed the lacy garment aside, the metal clanking against the floor like a gong announcing a new act in their sensual performance. "Heh... Heh... Heh..." She mimicked the Italian's nasal crescendo, her own sneezes building like a crescendo of need. "KSSHIEW! HKTSSCHIEW! HKSSHIEW!" The dainty sounds were a stark contrast to the explosive ones from her neighbor, yet they held their own allure, a delicate dance of sniffs and sneezes that had Stefania's eyes glued to her.

"Oh God... I'm gonna sdeehhhze.... ag-agahhhiiinnn..." Before they knew it, Stefania and Hannele were already on the couch stark naked. Stefania's reddened nostrils pulsated in protest and pleasure.

 Hannele watched with bated breath, her own cold-induced tickle growing stronger by the second. With a dramatic sniff, she brought a finger to her own nose, feeling the familiar tingle. "Heh... Me too..." Hannele echoed, her eyes glued to the mesmerizing sight of her partner's flared nostrils.

To her surprise, Stefania assisted. "Allow me, cara mia," she whispered, her voice thick with desire as she leaned in. Stefania plucked a feather from one of the old pillows, and started tickling Hannele's stuffy nose.

"Heh... Heh... Heh..." Hannele's eyes watered and her nose quivered as she felt the tickle build. "Stef..." she gasped, her voice nasal and needy. 

"Respira solo il profumo. Finirà presto." Stefania's beautiful voice purred in Hannele's ears. God, it felt like a fever dream finally coming to fruition. 

Hannele's cold ridden nostrils flared. "I can't... Heh... Heh..." But it was too late. With a graceful arch of her back, she let out a symphony of sneezes that seemed to dance in the air. "HKTSSHIEW! HKSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW!!" The sound was like a delicate whisper compared to the Italian's own thunderous eruptions.

"Salute... Hihhh... santo cielo... I cannot stop... Sneezing today..." At that point, Stefania's own allergic nose reacted to Hannele tickling her big nose with the same feather. Hannele couldn't help but grin as she watched the feather's dance become more intense, her own eyes watering with the effort of holding back. "Hiihh--ighh... IHH...!!" she gasped, feeling the sneeze build in the back of her throat. "Just... just a little more..." Stefania sniffled. 

With a wicked smile, Hannele complied, her heart racing as she watched the Italian's nose swell and pulse with every touch. The air grew thick with anticipation, charged with the electricity of their shared fetish. "Here you go, Stef. Just let it go."

"Ehhh.... hehh.... hahh..." Her nostrils flared wildly, and she sneezed freely, directly onto Hannele. "HHHAAASSSHHHOOO! Huhhh.... HASHOOO!! ISSHOOOO!! Huhh'ESCHHHIEW!"

And then it came. "EHH'KTSSCHH-IEWW! KTSSCHH-IEW! KTSSCHH-IEW!" Hannele's sneezes were like a string of pearls, delicate and refined, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

Stefania watched, her own nostrils quivering with the effort of holding back her next sets of sneezes. The sight of Hannele's oval nostrils flaring and closing with each sneeze was like watching a silent film starlet, her nose the star of the show. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The Italian whispered, her chest heaving as she felt the tickle in her own nose grow more insistent.

"You're so allergic, dear." At that point, Stefania's blue dress came off, revealing a pair of huge breasts. Stefania wore a red bra underneath, and that slid off, unchaining the beautiful bosom.

Hannele couldn't help but stare as the fabric hit the floor, her own sneezes growing in intensity. "Heh... Heh... Heh..." she sniffled, her eyes never leaving the sight of her neighbor's exposed chest. The peppermint oil had done its job, turning their innocent friendship into a sneezing frenzy of passion.

With a flick of the wrist, Stefania applied the oil to the feather and began to dance it around the edges of her large nose, her heart racing with excitement. "Heh... Heh..." The cold air in the room was thick with the scent of mint and the promise of more sneezes to come. With a dramatic flourish, she brought the feather closer to her right nostril, feeling the tickle build to a crescendo.

Hannele watched, her eyes glazed with desire as she felt the tickle in her own nose grow stronger. She couldn't resist any longer. With a sniff that was half sneeze, half moan, she let the feather do its magic. "Huhhh.... HIIIHHH..." Her nostrils quivered in time with the Italian's...

And then, with a grace that belied her own desperation, Hannele leaned back, her own nose a mere whisper of a sound compared to the volcanic eruptions that were coming from the woman in front of her. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The sneeze grew like a wave in the ocean, building until it was all she could think about. "HKSSHIEW!"

But Stefania had to sneeze so badly. Her nose was a volcano waiting to erupt, and Hannele's delicate ministrations had turned the simmering lava into an unstoppable force. "Heh... ahhh-huhhh-uhhh...huhhh..." With a wild look in her eyes, she grabbed the feather from Hannele's trembling hand and brought it to her own nose. The peppermint oil sizzled against her skin, sending a fresh wave of tickles through her nostrils. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." Her voice grew nasal and needy, a siren's song for the sneeze that was about to overtake her. "Oh, please... Heh... Uhh... It's... Stuck..."

With a wicked smile, Hannele leaned back, her own nose still quivering from the recent sneeze. She watched as the Italian woman's breasts bobbed with every inhale, her nipples tight with anticipation. "Let it out, love," she murmured, her voice a sweet, sweet promise. "Let me see those glorious nostrils of yours flare again."

With a flick of the feather, Hannele sent it skimming over the ridge of her own nose, her eyes watering as she felt the tickle build. "HiiihhHHH!!" Her body tensed, her chest rising and falling as she took in the sight before her. The feather hovered just above her left nostril, the minty scent of the oil growing stronger with every passing second. And then, with a grace that seemed to defy gravity, she sneezed. "HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was a delicate symphony, a sweet release of the pressure that had been building within her.

Stefania's eyes grew wide, her own nose quivering in response. "Ahh... Heh... Heh..." She watched as Hannele's naked breasts jiggled with the force of her sneeze. The sight was almost too much to bear, her own allergies forgotten in the face of the pure, unadulterated pleasure of watching Hannele sneeze. Stefania then slowly lifted the tip of her nose up, squishing the underside into the fold of Hannele's neck.

"Eh... Heh... uhh-IIHHH..." Hannele felt the warmth of Stefania's breath against her skin, her own body responding in kind. The tickle grew stronger, more demanding. "Stef," she whispered, her voice nasal and strained, "I can't... Heh... Heh..."

"I'm... Coming..." At that point, Stefania's wide nostrils expanded past the point of no return. A glorious sneezing fit shook Stefania's frame. "EHHH'ISSSCHIIIEW! Haaahh-CHHHOOOOOOOO! HA-ESCHHHOOOOOO! HA-YISSSCHOO! HUHH'ASSHH'IEW!!" The room was filled with the thunderous sound of her release, the vibration of her sneezes resonating through the very walls of the apartment. Hannele watched with a mix of amazement and arousal, her own cold-swollen nose quivering with envy. The Italian's huge breasts bounced with the power of her sneezes, the sight making Hannele's heart race faster than a stampede of wild horses.

"Bless..." The word was barely out of Hannele's mouth before she was hit by the full force of her own sneezing fit. "Heh... oh god..." Her nose twitched uncontrollably, the peppermint oil sending waves of pleasure crashing through her senses. "HKTSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW! HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, delicate yet powerful in its own right, as she succumbed to the irresistible urge to sneeze. Each sneeze was a symphony of sound, a testament to the depth of their shared fetish.

Stefania watched, her eyes glued to the sight of Hannele's nose, the sharp point flaring and retreating with each delicate explosion. Her heart raced with excitement, her own nostrils quivering as she felt the tickle in her nose growing stronger by the second. "Heh... *snnnff* Ahhh... Huhh... Oh God..." she murmured, her voice thick with the promise of the sneeze that was building within her.

With a gentle touch, Hannele placed her hand on the side of Stefania's face, turning her towards the light. "Look at me, love," she whispered, her own eyes watering with anticipation. "Let me see your nostrils flare."

Stefania's nostrils quivered like a pair of huge manholes, the anticipation of the impending sneeze making her entire body quiver. "Heh... Heh... Uhh..." With a deep inhale, she leaned in closer to Hannele, her eyes never leaving hers. "Eh... Heh..." The tickle grew, a wildfire spreading through her sinuses, threatening to consume her.

With a gentle caress, Hannele traced the line of the Italian's hooked nose, her fingertip lightly brushing the flared nostrils. "So beautiful," she murmured, her own voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of a sneeze. "I'm uhh... Gonna come with you being like this..." The feather hovered just out of reach, a teasing promise of the sneeze that was to come.

Stefania felt the heat from Hannele's hand on her face, her skin tingling as the tickle grew stronger. "Annie," she breathed, her voice a nasal whine. "I can't... Uhhh... Huh... hold it back..." Her body was a tightly coiled spring, ready to unleash the sneeze that had been building within her.

Hannele's eyes shimmered with excitement as she watched the Italian's nose twitch and pulse. "Just let it happen," she whispered, her own breath hitching as the tickle in her nose grew more intense. "Let it all out."

"Heh... Heh..." With a whimper that was almost a sigh, Stefania gave in to the inevitable. The sneeze grew, swelling like a balloon about to pop. "EHHH-TSSSCHH-IIIIEWW! Heh-ISSSCHH-IIEW! HERR'UHSSSHIEWW! HHHAAASSSHHHOOO! HihhTSCHOOO! Hrreshh'IEEEWWW!" Her sneezes were powerful, the power of it knocking the very air out of the room. The wetness then formed inside Stefania's silk panties.

Hannele's own nose was a symphony of sniffles and sneezes, each one more delicate and refined than the last. "ETSHIEW! Heh... Heh..." She couldn't help but be drawn into the maelstrom of sneezes, her body responding to the siren's call of her neighbor's allergies. "Oh, Stef..." she whispered, her voice nasal and strained, her eyes never leaving the mesmerizing sight of the Italian's flared nostrils. 

Stefania removed her panties, revealing a nearly shaved vagina that looked already drenched.The room was a cacophony of sniffles, sneezes, and the rustling of fabric as the two women fed into their shared passion. Their eyes never left each other's, the connection between them stronger than any pollen in the room could ever be. "Jesus... Wow... Um..." Hannele's nose quivered with anticipation as she watched the Italian's nostrils flare like bellows.

"Allow me," she murmured, reaching for the feather once more. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing over the landscape of her neighbor's face, tracing the fullness of her lips and the sharp slope of her nose before delicately tickling the tip. "Eh... Ahh... eh... Heh..." Stefania's eyes grew wide, her body arching as the feather grazed the sensitive skin of her nose.

The Italian's nostrils flared with each shallow breath she took, the tickle growing into a crescendo that seemed to echo the throb between her legs. "Heh... Heh..." Hannele watched with rapt attention, her own nose quivering as she felt the beginnings of another sneeze build within her. "Stef... I can't..."

With a sudden jerk of her hand, Hannele brought the feather closer to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil sending a fresh wave of tickles through her. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." The anticipation was unbearable, her body tight with the need to sneeze. And then it happened. With a dainty sniff, she released a sneeze that was as elegant as it was explosive. "HKTSSHIEW!" The sound was like a whispered promise, her oval nostrils flaring and closing with the grace of a ballerina.

Stefania felt her own body respond to the sight, her nipples hardening as she watched the symphony of sneezes play out before her. "Ahh... Heh... Heh..." Her hand reached out, her fingers lightly grazing Hannele's cheek as she felt the sneeze build. "Let me do that for you," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that seemed to resonate in the very air around them. Stefania fanned her nostrils furiously, beckoning the sneezes to come.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent the feather dancing over Hannele's nose, the peppermint scent a sweet agony as it tickled her wayward neighbor. "Eh... Heh... Heh..." Hannele's eyes grew wide, her chest rising and falling as she tried to hold back the sneeze. But it was no use. With a delicate sniff, she gave in to the inevitable. "EhTSSHIEW!" The sound was like a butterfly's kiss, so soft and yet so powerful that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

And then...The room grew thick with anticipation, the air charged with the electricity of a summer storm. "Huhhh...." The Italian woman hugged her neighbor, yet another series of sneezes starting to brew in her magnificent nose. "Heh... Heh... Heh..."

Hannele's eyes grew dark with desire as she felt the vibrations of the tickle against her own nose. "Stefania, darling, you're so... allergic," she whispered, her voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of her own sneezes. "It's so... intoxicating."

"They.... are?"

Hannele needn't answer, as the answer was already in full display. The feather hovered between them, a silent conductor orchestrating their symphony of sniffs and sneezes. With a mischievous smile, Hannele leaned in closer, her nose grazing the softness of the Italian's cheek. "Your allergies are so hot, Steffie…" she murmured, her breath hot and minty against Stefania's ear.

"Huhh... Uhh... Ahhh..." The taller woman's breathing grew ragged, her hand moving to cover her mouth as another sneeze fought for release. "But what if I ruin your cuhh... cold?" she asked, her voice nasal and teasing.

Hannele leaned into the warmth of the Italian's embrace, her nose quivering against her cheek. "Oh, you couldn't," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with mischief. "It's just a cold, after all. Besides," she paused, her voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I've always wanted to feel your sneezes up close."

Much to her luck, Stefania's beautiful nose flared, and she sneezed head first into Hannele's chest. The dizzying fit that resulted was powerful, soaking the folds of Hannele's petite chest. "HhEHH-ESCHHHOOO! Hah-USHHHIEEW!! Ehh-HASCHHOOO! HASCHHOOOO! HIH-SHHIEEWW! Huh... Huh... HUH-UHH-SCHOOO!! ASCHHOOOO! HASCHOOO! IHH-ESCHHOOO!!!" Stefania sniffled, trying to regain control that was long lost. "Ih... Uhh .. I - ahhh - ASCHHOOOO!!"

"Wow, my freaking.... I love you... A million times." Hannele smiled, blushing hard. "Wow, that was hot."

"Was it?" The Italian's voice was hoarse, stuffy and sweet, the sneezes leaving her breathless. She sniffled again, her brown eyes searching Hannele's silver eyes for any sign of a lie. 

"That was wonderful, Steffie."

"I'm glad..." The Italian's voice was nasal and sweet, a symphony of allergies and arousal. Hannele's heart skipped a beat, her own nose quivering in response.

"Well, I..." With a gentle hand, Hannele guided the feather back to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil a tantalizing promise. "Got a little tickle..." Her breath grew shallower, her chest heaving as the tickle grew stronger. And then, with a delicate sniff, she released another sneeze, her oval nostrils flaring like the wings of a moth in the night. "HKTSSHIEW!" 

"Salute." Unable to control herself, Stefania reached over for a languid kiss.Their lips met in a dance of sneezes, a ballet of sniffles and whimpers. The feather was forgotten as their bodies melded together, the scent of pollen and mint mingling in the air. 

Hannele's arms wrapped around her naked neighbor, kissing as they did. Being covered in saliva from the sneeze attack, Hannele asked, "Do you have a husband?"

"No. Never had a lover in my life." Stefania's nose twitched. "Forty years of loneliness, changed by you."

"But you're so beautiful," Hannele whispered, her eyes never leaving the Italian's face. "How did you live forty years without love?"

"I've kept to myself, even back in Italy." Stefania's nose twitched again, this time in preparation for yet another impending fit. "Ooh, my nose itches so much... I can hardly concentrate."

Hannele's own sniffles grew louder, the scent of peppermint oil and pollen mixing with their ragged breaths. "Let me," she whispered, her hand reaching for the feather once more. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing across the Italian's face, tracing the curve of her hooked nose and the softness of her plump lips. 

Stefania's nostrils flared as the feather danced across her sensitive nose. "Ooh, it's a... Working... Kee... Keep going..."

Hannele obliged, her heart racing with excitement as she watched the Italian's body tense. The room was alive with the sound of their sneezes, each one feeding the other's arousal. 

"Oh God..." With each gentle tickle, Hannele felt her own cold-ridden nose twitch, eager to join in the symphony. "You're so... so allergic... So beautiful." She whispered, her voice nasal and thick with the beginnings of a sneeze.

"Heh... Heh..." The Italian's body quivered, her eyes never leaving Hannele's. "And... and you're so... so sweet," she replied, her voice a nasal whine that was music to Hannele's ears.

The blond woman leaned in closer, her own nostrils flaring as she felt the pressure build in her own nose. "Sweet, yes, but also..." With a flick of her wrist, she brought the feather up to her own nose, the minty scent of the oil sending a fresh wave of tickles through her. "EHH-TSSHIEW!" The sneeze was as delicate as a whisper, yet it resonated through the room like a lover's moan.

Stefania watched, her eyes dark with desire as she felt her own nostrils quiver in response. "Oh Annie..." she murmured, her voice a nasal symphony of need. "That was... exquisite."

Hannele's own nostrils flared, the heat from their passionate kiss still lingering on her lips. "I've always wanted to..." She struggled to find the words, her own sneeze building, "Wanted to... EhTSSHIEW! HETCHIEW!" She sneezed again, her eyes watering with the effort to hold back the next one.

Stefania's gaze was filled with curiosity, her heart racing as she watched Hannele's delicate sneezes. "Did you want to go further?" she whispered, her own nose twitching.

"I've... I've always wanted to have a wife." Hannele confessed. "I... I didn't know we could be attracted to each other this much."

"You... You want me to be your wife?" The Italian's eyes grew wide with surprise. Her nose twitched, a sneeze forming. "But... I'm your neighbor! How can we .... Ooh..." The burn inside her big nostrils gradually increased. 

"It'll be all right..."

With a gentle touch, Hannele brushed a strand of hair from Stefania's sweaty forehead. The Italian's sneezes had become more frequent, her nose a beacon of redness and swollen beauty. "You know," she murmured, her voice nasal but filled with a lilt that was anything but cold, "I've always been a bit of a... collector."

"Oh, of... Uhh, what?" 

Hannele leaned in closer, her nose quivering with the effort to hold back the sneeze that was now threatening to escape. "You know... Collecting... moments," she managed to say, her voice nasal and thick with desire. "Moments like this... Sneezes... So... intimate..."

Stefania's heart raced as the meaning behind her neighbor's words sank in. "I've never thought of it like that," she murmured, her own nostrils flaring as she felt the tickle in her nose grow stronger. "But... but what if... Uhhh... ooh... What if my allergies are too much?"

"They're never too much for me." The Dutch woman replied, silver eyes smiling directly at Stefania's nose.

"But, I mean, we're juhh... Ehh... HIH-ISHHHOOO!! ASSHOOOO!! HESCHH-OOO! ISCHHOOO!!" Another explosive set of sneezes rocked through the Italian's body, leaving her panting. "We're just neighbors, Hannele. Surely, you can't want... A... Huhh... Hehh'URSCHHIEEWW! You wouldn't want such a sneezy woman like me."

The blond woman chuckled, the sound as soft and sweet as a dainty sneeze. "But that's exactly why I do," she whispered, her hand tracing the line of the Italian's jaw. "Every time you sneeze, it's like watching a masterpiece unfold before my very eyes."

Stefania felt a blush spread across her cheeks, the heat of it as intense as the pollen in the air. "I... I don't know what to say," she stuttered, her voice nasal and thick with emotion. "I... I..." Before Stefania knew it, Hannele pulled her forward with a languid kiss, their bodies melding into one.

Their tongues danced together, a symphony of sweetness and mint, a dance of desire that seemed to mirror their shared love for sneezes. As they kissed, the tickle in Hannele's nose grew stronger, until she couldn't hold it back any longer. "Heh... Heh..." With a sniff, she gave in to the sneeze that had been building, the sound of it like the delicate chime of a bell. "EhTSSHIEW! Hkk'TSCHHiew!"

"Bless... Hihh... Y-you..." Stefania tried to bless her, but her own nose was going crazy with tickles.

Hannele's eyes grew wide with excitement, her own cold-induced sneezes building in intensity. "You know, Steffie," she murmured, her voice nasal and thick with mischief, "I've read that sometimes... a good, deep kiss can help relieve the tickle in your nose."

Stefania's heart raced as she took in Hannele's words, her own nostrils quivering in anticipation. "Is that a... a medical fact?" she asked, her voice nasal and hopeful. "Because, huh... I... Ohh, heh... HEHH'URSCHHIEEWW! Uh'ESCHHIEEWW! Huhh'ESCHHHIEW!" The sneezes coated Hannele's chest.

Hannele pulled back, her eyes sparkling with amusement and something else—desire. "It's a... alternative remedy," she said, her own nose twitching with the beginnings of a sneeze. "But it's definitely worth a try, don't you think?”

Taehyung knows this because he’s been staring at the clock on his nightstand for the past forty minutes, watching each minute tick by, his eyes burning and his dick so, so unbelievably hard. 

It’s embarrassing, really. He’s too fucking easy. Everything makes him horny. Even weird stuff. His brain likes the weirdest fucking shit and most of the time, he doesn’t care. He embraces his weird kinks. His absolutely perfect angel of a boyfriend embraces his weird kinks, accepts him and all of his horniness and his kinks and indulges him all the time. 

But tonight, his absolute perfect angel of a boyfriend is sick. 

And Taehyung’s dick is too interested in that fact. Not the fact that his boyfriend is sick– no, that’s why he’s lying here, wide awake in the middle of the night, trying to will his boner away while he listens to the sounds that Jungkook is making that make him so fucking hard it’s…

Embarrassing. 

No, he doesn’t like that his boyfriend is sick, because the poor thing has been so miserable and Taehyung would take his cold away and suffer through it himself if he could. His dick is interested in the results of his boyfriend being sick. The sniffling and the sneezing. The helpless little whimpers that Jungkook makes when he has a tickle in his nose. The way Jungkook’s face scrunches up and his nostrils flare when he’s going to sneeze. The way Jungkook’s entire body shudders through a sneeze when he loses control to the tickle in his sinuses, over and over again, gasping out the most obscene sounding pleas of ‘Taehyung, p-please, I need a tissue’ or ‘Taehyung, I’m gonna– gonna sneeze–!’ and then moaning after each sneeze like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. 

Taehyung feels his entire body tense when next to him, Jungkook snores himself awake for the hundredth time tonight, sniffles frantically for a few seconds, and then gasps his way into a little trio of sneezes that are so congested that Taehyung doesn’t know how they can even come out.

“hgshh! hh’HDZSH! hh-hh-HGTSH!”

But oh, they come out and oh, they sound messy.

“Bless you,” Taehyung whispers, a reflex, and– oh, shit. He’s just revealed that he’s awake.

“Taehyu’g?” Jungkook sniffles thickly, rolls over in the bed. “I’mb so sorry, did I wake you up? I didd’t…didd’t mbean to…to-hhh…”

Taehyung presses the heel of his hand against his throbbing cock, his heart pounding in anticipation. 

“iiihhSHOO!”

“Oh– bless you, sweetheart.” Taehyung sits up when he hears the rustling of a tissue being pulled from its box, reaching over to turn his bedside lamp on. He waits until he hears Jungkook blowing his nose to look over. 

“You poor thing,” Taehyung murmurs when he sees Jungkook’s face, flushed red from sleep and from the sneezing, his nose looking so raw that he wants to reach out and touch it, soothe the irritation, and he can almost feel the heat of it beneath his fingertips– 

A yawn from Jungkook snaps him out of his lustful thoughts and he frowns, watches Jungkook rub sleepily at his eyes.

“Aw, love,” he murmurs sympathetically. “You just can’t get any sleep tonight, can you?”

Jungkook shakes his head sadly, rubbing one finger under his nose, and Taehyung watches it, watches the way his nostrils flare at the touch, the way his rubbing gets more insistent after a moment until Jungkook scrambles for a tissue. 

He bunches it up against his nose, eyelashes fluttering rapidly, but after a minute, he lowers the tissue and heaves out a stuffy sigh.

“Dond’t worry about mbe,” he says, sounding even more congested. “I’ve bee’d sleepi’g a little bit.”

“Of course I’m worried about you,” Taehyung replies, reaching out to cup Jungkook’s face. “Baby, you sound so sick. Can you even breathe? Do you want to take some more medicine?” 

Jungkook makes a face at that, and Taehyung chuckles, reaches up to smooth the hair back from his forehead. 

“How about a bath, then? Maybe breathing in some steam would help?” 

“I dodn’t wandt to take a bath,” Jungkook says. “Mbaybe a shower i’dstead?”

“Of course, love. Whatever you want. Stay right here, I’ll go get the water started.” 

Taehyung climbs out of the bed, trying to ignore the way Jungkook is sniffling as he makes his way into the bathroom to start the shower. He cranks the handle all the way to the left, hoping the steam will help with Jungkook’s congestion, and lets the water run while he gathers up their towels. 

Back in the room, Jungkook is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking half asleep and so adorable that Taehyung’s insides flutter like there are butterflies in his tummy. 

“Poor thing,” he coos, rushing to Jungkook’s side. “This cold is really kicking your ass, huh?”

Jungkook tries to breathe through his nose and the sound comes out a blocked, crackling sound. “Yeah,” he says, pressing the heel of his hand against the side of his nose. “If I wasnd’t so stuffed up, it wouldnd’t be so bad.” He lets out a soft cough and glances up at Taehyung, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Mby ndose is just so stuffy dno mbatter how mbuch I sndeeze.”

“Ohh-kay,” Taehyung says quickly, because he’s got to stop that train of conversation before it gets out of hand, even though he’s certain Jungkook is saying it like that on purpose. “Shower’s ready, let’s go.” 

He spins around and marches back into the bathroom, his cheeks burning, and he’s pretty sure he hears Jungkook chuckle softly behind him. 

The bathroom is nice and steamy, so Taehyung turns the temperature of the water down to a more reasonable level, holding his hand beneath the spray. Jungkook appears behind him a minute later, completely naked, and leans against the counter, breathing in deeply. 

“Feels ndice idd here,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. 

Taehyung looks over, smiles at the look of satisfaction on Jungkook’s face. “Good, baby. That’s why we’re doing this. Gonna make you feel a little better, hopefully.” 

Jungkook sniffles a little– the steam is already working, and his nose is already starting to run– and then shuffles over to Taehyung, leaning over to press a short, sweet kiss to his cheek. “Thangks, babe. I feel better already.” 

“Get in, I’ll be right there,” Taehyung says, patting Jungkook’s ass a couple of times when he passes by to get into the shower. 

The congested moan that Jungkook lets out when he steps under the water goes straight to Taehyung’s dick and he realizes that there’s no way he’s getting through this night without shooting his load at some point. He doesn’t think he has that kind of willpower. He peels off his pajamas and grabs the base of his cock, willing it to at least calm down a little so he can make it through the part of the shower where Jungkook is in there, telling himself he can jerk off after Jungkook is de-congested and tucked back into bed. 

He hears Jungkook bark out a string of irritated sounding coughs, and then he’s sneezing, great big sneezes that echo throughout the bathroom. 

“hhh-HPHSHOO! eghhhSHOO! ighhSHUH! GSHSHshoo! AH-HPSHH!”

Yeah. Absolutely no fucking way he’s not going to come all over himself within the next five minutes with Jungkook sneezing his head off like that.

Great.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook says, voice hoarse from the sneezes, and he pushes the shower curtain open to peek out. “Oh, there you are. You’re coming in too, right?”

“Yes.” Taehyung cups a hand over his embarrassingly hard cock and steps into the shower, trying to keep his front angled away from Jungkook, but it’s not like he’s small enough to hide just behind his hand– not that he’s bragging, or anything.

“Oh. Hello.” Jungkook’s eyes are instantly on his cock, and Taehyung flushes.

“Hey,” he replies, unable to meet Jungkook’s gaze. “Sorry. Um.”

He feels Jungkook’s fingers under his chin, gently trying to tilt his face up. “Taehyung, it’s–” But he stops short, yanks his hand back, and then he’s sneezing again, face tucked into the crook of his elbow, his other hand coming up to brace himself against the shower wall. 

“hh-EHHshoo! hh’HDZSH’oo! hghhh…hh–! hh-hh-hiiishSHOO! HHPSHOO!” 

Each shuddering sneeze rings out over the sound of the shower and Taehyung has too look– he can’t not watch, can’t keep his eyes away even if he tried– he has too see the way Jungkook’s biceps bulge as he lifts his arms up to cover his face, the way his stomach muscles clench with each sneeze, and fuck, Taehyung’s not even going to last five minutes at this rate.

“Ugh,” Jungkook says, breathless, blinking up at Taehyung, his nose now running profusely. “Wow.” He sniffs wetly, brings the back of his hand up to wipe his nose and cringes. “Sorry,” he says, not looking the least bit apologetic. “I’m such a mess right now.” 

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffs out, feeling like he’s the one out of breath. “A mess.”

Jungkook smirks, and Taehyung’s face is on fire, but a second later Jungkook’s face is crumpling and his expression turns to one of desperation instead. He keeps his eyes on Taehyung, like he’s trying to hold his gaze despite the building sneeze, and it stirs something deep within Taehyung– when Jungkook finally loses the battle, cupping his hands over his mouth and nose at the last second and wrenching forward with a tremendous sneeze, he steps forward and slides his hand over the small of Jungkook’s back.

“There you go,” he whispers as Jungkook pants heavily through another handful of wet sneezes. “Good job, baby. Bless you.” 

Through a particularly long buildup, Jungkook whimpers, caught on the edge of a sneeze, inhaling in– then in again, and his nose is twitching, his lungs straining to fill up with air– and when it finally comes, he trembles through the sneeze before his shoulders slump, and he lets out a long, drawn out moan followed by a sigh of relief. 

As Jungkook recovers, Taehyung wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “Bless you, bless you, bless you.” 

Jungkook’s eyes and nose are streaming and Taehyung reaches up, wipes it all away with his hand, shivers when Jungkook leans against him and blows out a breath through his nose to test if he can.

“Getting all cleared out, hm?” Taehyung leans forward and presses a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. “Good job, love. You know what else would clear you out?” He asks, voice husky. 

“Sneezing my brains out some more?” Jungkook quips back, smirking. “Whatever you want, babe.” 

Another shiver runs down Taehyung’s spine and he huffs out a breath. “No, I– fuck, Jungkook.” He swallows thickly. “I was gonna say an orgasm.” 

“Oh, so now I’m cleared for sexual activity? Because yesterday you said I was too sick, even though you were clearly very turned on when I was– ah!” Jungkook yelps when Taehyung pinches one of his nipples, his hand flying up to grip Taehyung’s shoulder. “T-Taehyung!” 

“Oh, this isn’t about me being turned on,” Taehyung says sweetly, rolling Jungkook’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger until Jungkook lets out a soft whine. “This is about getting you all cleared out. They say orgasms can help with congestion.” 

Jungkook gasps softly, his head tipping back. “You say that every time I have a cold, and I still don’t know who ‘they’ are.” 

Taehyung moves his right hand to Jungkook’s left nipple, then leans down to suck on his right nipple, using his tongue to tease at the hardened bud caught between his lips, and he hums in satisfaction when Jungkook gasps again. With his free hand, he trails his fingers down, over the smooth muscular plane of Jungkook’s stomach, down until he reaches the soft hairs below his navel. 

Tracing little patterns against his skin with his fingers, Taehyung laps at Jungkook’s nipple like it’s the best thing he’s ever had on his tongue and revels in the sounds Jungkook makes in reaction. He reaches down, grins when he feels that Jungkook’s cock is already full and heavy, standing up so eagerly at his touch.

“Oh?” Taehyung looks up, letting his lips brush against Jungkook’s nipple as he talks. “You like that, baby?”

Jungkook nods, voice caught in his throat. Taehyung continues to play with his nipple and Jungkook arches his back, pushes his chest into his hand. At the same time, he wraps his hand around Jungkook’s cock and begins to slide it up and down slowly. 

“T-Taehyung,” Jungkook suddenly gasps. “Please, I– I’m gonna–” He sniffles in rapid succession, his hand that’s on Taehyung’s shoulder tightening until he can feel nails digging into his skin. “Where– where do I– can I– ohh…”

Heat pools in Taehyung’s groin when he realizes what Jungkook’s asking– where Taehyung wants him to sneeze. 

“Go ahead,” is what Taehyung responds with, because even though his own cock is so hard it aches, he really does want to make this about Jungkook and not about himself. Jungkook can sneeze on him later when he’s feeling better. “Anywhere, love.” 

He threads his hands through Jungkook’s hair at the back of his head and then nudges Jungkook up against the shower wall, then leans down again to take Jungkook’s nipple into his mouth. He keeps his hand moving slowly up and down Jungkook’s cock, at a pace he knows Jungkook is going to complain about as soon as he’s not distracted by the need to sneeze, and Jungkook’s body is tense against his, trembling, his chest expanding and his pretty lips falling open, brows furrowing in the middle, until–

“hh-EHHshoo!”

He aims the sneeze just over Taehyung’s shoulder, and Taehyung fights to hold back a gasp of his own. “Oh, good job,” he whispers, swiping his thumb over the head over Jungkook’s cock, pausing to trace a few circles around his slit before pumping his hand up and down again. “Bless you.” 

Jungkook sucks in a breath, then another right on top of that, his chest expanding again. His cock twitches in Taehyung’s hand and he moans.

“Does this feel good?” He asks, feeling Jungkook squirm against him. 

Jungkook moans again, nods his head, inhales sharply. “hhh-HPHSHOO! eghhhSHOO!” 

The sneezes are productive and Taehyung reaches up before Jungkook can try to sniff it all back up, using his thumb to swipe the snot away from beneath Jungkook’s still flaring nostrils. 

“Bless you, fuck, you’re such a mess,” Taehyung gasps, failing to keep his voice steady. “Aren’t you?” 

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whimpers, nose scrunching up. “I…I’m…ihhh’HPZSHCH-uh!”

“Oh, just look at you, baby,” Taehyung moans. “So helpless. Fuck, you’re so hot.” He speeds up just a bit, his hand moving up and down Jungkook’s length. “But you’re doing such a good job, aren’t you? Breathing in all the steam and getting your sinuses all cleared out.” He moves his hand a little faster. “Letting me make you feel so good.”

“Y-yeah,” Jungkook stammers. “I…I’m– hhh-HPHSHOO!”

A shiver of pleasure runs through Taehyung’s entire body when he feels the spray of Jungkook’s sneeze mist his entire right side. He moves his hand faster, closes his eyes and bites down on his lip when he hears Jungkook’s breath begin to hitch unevenly. 

“hh-HGGSH’oo!”

“Bless you.” 

Jungkook is panting, open-mouthed, glassy-eyed. His next sneeze is forceful, sends him shuddering against Taehyung’s body, both hands now coming up to Taehyung’s shoulders. “GSHSHshoo!” 

He lifts a hand to his face, and Taehyung surprises himself by reaching out lightning fast to grab his wrist, keeping him from getting it all the way up to his nose. He releases Jungkook’s wrist and nudges it aside, brings his own hand up to cup Jungkook’s face. His left hand is still on Jungkook’s cock, moving up and down, bringing Jungkook closer and closer to the edge and he knows it won’t be much longer now, not with the way Jungkook is shaking all over, his eyelids heavy and his breath coming in short, shallow pants, and Taehyung is giddy with the feeling of being in control of him like this.

He uses his thumb to wipe Jungkook’s nose again, and then he keeps it there, tracing a path up and down his septum, nearly dizzy with the heady mix of arousal and anticipation at the way Jungkook’s eyes start to roll back and the ticklish touch, and Jungkook gasps loudly, huffs out an irritated breath that comes out as a soft snort and then sneezes, loudly, messily, repeatedly. 

“EDHHH’SHOO! ighhSHUH! ihhh’HPSHCH! hh-hh–! hhh-hh-EHHshoo! HHPSHOO!” 

“Oh, fuck, bless you. You’re so– so beautiful, baby. Fuck.”

Jungkook is an absolute mess, and as Taehyung gently pinches his nose and drags his fingers downward, he whimpers, and Taehyung doesn’t know if it means he’s about to come or if he’s about to sneeze again. 

“You’re a mess,” he whispers, leaning close so he can suck at the underside of Jungkook’s jaw. He continues downward, kissing a path down the side of Jungkook’s neck, and he whimpers into another sneeze.

“nnhhh-EHHshoo!” 

“Bless you. So beautiful and messy, sweetheart.”

Taehyung is only focused on Jungkook’s cock now, and he knows exactly what to do to make Jungkook writhe against him, know exactly how to touch him and what to say to him to bring him to climax, and he moves his hand up and down with practiced ease and grins when Jungkook starts to whimper his name, Taehyung, Taehyung, Tae please–

“Look at you, so close. Gonna make an even bigger mess, aren’t you, baby?” 

At those words, Jungkook’s body tenses, and he comes, back arching and thighs shaking and head thrown back with a hoarse, guttural cry. Taehyung holds him through it, strokes him until his come is all over his stomach and his hand and his own cock, washed away seconds later by the shower water that’s still raining down on them. 

Jungkook sags against him as he catches his breath, his breath stuttering in and out. 

“Sorry, I should have had you sit down first or something,” Taehyung laughs as he supports Jungkook’s weight. “How do you feel, baby?”

“I feel amazing,” Jungkook slurs without lifting his head from Taehyung’s shoulder. “That was fucking amazing.” 

Chuckling, Taehyung continues to rub Jungkook’s back, trailing his fingers over the wet, slippery skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook lifts his head and takes a deep breath in through his nose. “I can breathe again.”

“I guess that was the point,” Taheyung laughs. “Let’s hurry and get you back to bed so you can fall asleep before the congestion comes back.”

“I don’t want it to come back,” Jungkook whines, letting his head fall back onto Taehyung’s shoulder. “Ah, that felt so good though. Fuck. That was incredible.”

Straightening up again, Jungkook looks down between them, at the cum that’s still on their skin, his eyes on Taehyung’s still erect cock for a few moments before he looks up. “Incredible. That was incredible. Felt so good.” 

“Yeah?” Taehyung laughs. “Good, baby, I’m glad–”

“You’re incredible,” Jungkook whispers, smiling. 

Taehyung leans forward and presses his lips against Jungkook’s sleepy smile. “You’re cute,” he says. Another kiss. “And sleepy.” A third kiss, and Jungkook smiles even wider into it, lets Taehyung capture his lips without doing much to kiss back, still trying to catch his breath and regain his composure, but his hands come up to hold Taehyung’s waist when he pulls away again.

“Okay, baby,” Taehyung says. “Let’s wash up and get out of here so you can go back to bed.” 

“You’re incredible,” Jungkook repeats, his voice a whisper, his hands moving to Taehyung’s ass. He squeezes lightly, then brings one hand around and palms just the head of Taehyung’s cock, and the touch makes Taehyung jerk in surprise, his hips bucking forward like they have a mind of their own. 

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I love you so much,” Jungkook whispers. “Wanna make you feel good too.” 

“Baby,” Taehyung gulps. “You’re sick.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “I’m sick. And I’m so sneezy, Tae. So…so-hhh-ighhSHUH!”

“N-no,” Taehyung says quickly. “This was just for you. This was just to–”

“hhh-ehh’PTCHSH!” 

“Fuck, Jungkook.” 

Taehyung is still reeling from the long-awaited contact against his throbbing cock that he doesn’t even register that it’s gone at first, doesn’t even register that Jungkook is dropping to his knees right there in the shower, his hands sliding down Taehyung’s sides instead. Jungkook is holding his waist when he sucks in a breath and then nuzzles against the side of Taehyung’s cock. 

“hh’HDZSH! hh-hh-HGTSH!” 

The sneezes spray all over Taehyung’s stomach and send a jolt through his entire body. “Jungkook, please,” he whimpers, but he doesn’t know if he’s asking Jungkook to stop or keep going.

“Oh, my nose,” Jungkook groans, turning his head to the side and kissing at the base of Taehyung’s cock as he sniffles. He trails his lips upward, pausing every few seconds to sniffle, and the alternation of little kisses and desperate puffs of air against his cock make Taehyung’s toes curl, makes the heat in his groin spread throughout the rest of his body dangerously fast.

When Jungkook wraps his lips around his cock he squeezes his eyes shut and rocks his hips forward, lost in the  wonderful sensation, until suddenly it stops, cool air replacing the warmth of Jungkook’s mouth. 

“Why did you stop?” Taehyung clamps his mouth shut as soon as he asks the question– it comes out too whiny, but he can’t help it, can’t help how pathetic he sounds at the loss.

Jungkook narrows his eyes slightly, looking a little confused. “You were saying ‘no’ over and over again, I don’t…if you don’t want…”

“Fuck,” Taheyung groans. “I fucking want it, please. Fuck. Please.”

Jungkook leans in again, and Taehyung’s eyes widen.

“Wait, no. Jungkook, baby, you’re sick, I’m not letting you give me a blowjob when you’re–”

Jungkook cuts him off with a sudden sniffle, frantic and loud, and he presses his nose against the head of Taehyung’s cock, rubbing against it, his nostrils flaring.

“You’re sick,” Taehyung repeats, but his hands are in Jungkook’s hair, holding him in place.

Without warning, Jungkook sneezes directly on his cock, a forceful spray of snot and saliva that he doesn’t even try to contain. He blinks innocently up at Taehyung, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “Oops,” he sniffles. “Sorry, I’m making such a…a…m-mhh-HHMSHOO!” He shakes his head back and forth a couple of times, his nose twitching. “I’m making such a mess everywhere.” 

And before Taehyung can respond, before he can find his voice, he dives back in, sucks Taehyung back into his mouth, and Taehyung moans so loudly he can hear it echo off the shower walls. 

“But–” Taehyung inhales sharply. “But your throat–”

“You want to come down my throat? Okay, babe, whatever you want.” 

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck. Fuck, Fuck.”

Jungkook hums around his length, pulls his head back enough to swirl his tongue around the head of his cock before bobbing his head back down, and Taehyung can’t take it anymore, the sight of Jungkook’s lips wrapped around his cock too much.

“Jungkook– I’m gonna cum–”

Jungkook pulls back again, lets Taehyung’s cock fall from his mouth with an obscene ‘pop’, and he wraps his hand around it instead and starts to stroke him up and down in time with Taehyung’s pounding heart. 

“Okay,” Jungkook replies, and then his face scrunches up. “Wait, I’m gonna sneeze.” 

Taehyung tries to wait for it, tries to watch as Jungkook’s head tips back, his lips parting and his chest heaving, but the second he hears the little warning gasp, the whimpering inhale that Jungkook makes that signals the sneeze is well and truly coming, he feels his orgasm reach its peak and it’s all he can do to stay upright, his knees locking and his eyes slamming shut as he cries out through the waves of pleasure coursing through him. 

When Jungkook sneezes, he doesn’t see it, but he can hear it, can feel the spray explode across his cock, at the same time that Jungkook pumps him through his orgasm with his hand, keeping up the motion until Taehyung whines and holds out his hand to help him up off the floor. 

“Why did you do that?” Taehyung pants, his legs feeling like jelly. “Fuck, Jungkook. Now you’re gonna be all stuffy again.” 

Smirking, Jungkook reaches for the soap. “It was worth it.” 

“No,” Taehyung pouts, grabbing the soap from him, but he feels so fucking good and Jungkook doesn’t actually sound all that bad. 

Jungkook wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “Hurry up and clean me up before my nose starts running again,” he says, and Taehyung snorts.

“I’m about to collapse,” he complains, but he starts lathering up a washcloth with soap, grinning wide. “Fuck, Jungkook, I can’t believe you just did that.” 

Avoiding Lupe’s cold was a lost cause from the start.

Charlotte sniffles into a hand towel and sinks lower in the bathtub. Bubbles lap at her chest, their mild lavender scent teasing her nostrils. For just a moment, she lets her eyes close, lets the water’s warmth seep into her skin, soothing the achy tenderness the day has left brewing in her joints.

The cold came on like a bruise, with only a vague soreness at the back of her throat when she first woke up. Over the course of the morning, it blossomed into full-body aches, and by the end of the school day, as she was tidying up and grading vocabulary worksheets, barely a minute passed where she didn’t have to wrangle back a sneeze or two or three or ten. Already, only nine hours in to being symptomatic, the skin around her septum stings at the touch of the towel, and beneath it, her sinuses tingle and burn with a perpetual itch that no amount of scrubbing or sneezing or blowing will scratch.

Worse still, no matter what she does, her nose refuses to stop running.

She tips her head back against the lip of the tub and lets her wrist droop over the side, the towel hanging limply from her fingers. Warm, contagious moisture gathers along the edges of her nostrils, waiting to bubble out, but gravity keeps it contained as she takes slow, deep breaths through her mouth. At least for now.

During what moment over the past week did she doom herself to this fate? Was it back at the hotel in Boston, when she curled up in bed with Lupe, or during the car ride home Lupe spent sneezing with a rather lackadaisical approach to keeping her germs contained to a tissue? No, that was too long ago — colds have an average incubation period of twelve to forty-eight hours, tending toward the shorter end of the spectrum in her case. There’s no way the virus has been stewing in her system that long. 

It must have happened more recently, probably in the past few days as Toby came down with presumably the same virus while Lupe insisted she was no longer contagious. Charlotte knew that couldn’t possibly be true — of course, lingering coughs don’t always mean anything, but Lupe’s still been more congested than average and has left at least a half a dozen trails of used tissues across her side of the bed or stuffed in the corner of the couch. Probably, that’s how Charlotte got it.

Unless, of course, this is something else entirely. 

Charlotte swallows, her spit grinding against her tonsils, and sinks deeper into the bubbles. It’s not like she didn’t expect to catch this — for as hard as Lupe and Toby have tried to keep their colds self-contained, they really have dripped and sneezed and coughed and left their used tissues strewn just about everywhere. And, well … it’s not like Charlotte could scold them for that. They’re both stressed and a little burnt out, and still dragging themselves to work through the duration of their illnesses. It’s understandable that they might be a little less than careful.

And as well prepared as Charlotte is for these sorts of bugs — she’s armed to the teeth with enough hand sanitizer to make your knuckles bleed, Lysol spray, immune defense gummies, and at least two jugs of orange juice at all times — she’s also a simple woman. A partner with big, watery eyes and a runny nose has always been her undoing.

“Hih …” Charlotte’s chest trembles, the frayed ends of her synapses crackling, a connection on the verge of sparking between them and her nerves, a breath away from triggering her reflexes. Well, really, that’s where they’ve been all afternoon once her nose started running in earnest — holding her in a constant, itchy limbo in those brief intervals when she wasn’t sneezing herself dizzy.

She lifts the towel, clamping it against her face with both hands as tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“hih’ishhhhh!” She bobs forward into the towel, water surging up against the sides of the tub. Behind the towel, slick, hot moisture trickles from her nostrils and seeps into the fabric, tingling through her sinuses as her breath snags again. “hih’ischhih! … hihh — hih’istchhiuhh!”

The sneezes throw her heartbeat up into her throat like a butterfly trapped in a jar. After a day of trying her damndest to hold everything back, they’re rougher than usual, each one firing out of her in a breathless rush and scraping across her larynx. They bring little respite from the itch plaguing her sinuses, but still, the kick of melty warmth that comes with each one somewhere behind her ribcage makes letting them out far, far more relieving than holding them back. 

Charlotte wipes at her nose and sniffles, holding the towel — which she should probably incinerate when she’s finished with it — off to the side again. With her head tipping back again, she allows herself to release a stuffy sigh into the steamy air — an invisible cloud of germs, though it’s not like anyone’s here to suffer the consequences. At least not yet.

It won’t be long until they are, though — here, where they can catch this. Here, where she can tend to their needs, and they can coo quiet blessings at her as she sniffles and sneezes her way through the evening.

Simultaneous pulses of horror and pleasure coil through her stomach and flush her cheeks hot.

There’s always been something a little tantalizing about watching her partners shoulder the weight of a cold or allergies, and even in lying here knowing that soon, they’ll get to watch her do the same — get to see her with so little control over how often or how loudly her own nose sets her off.

For some people, it’s a biological thing — something about misdirected blood flow, or crossed wires signaling the wrong parts of the nervous system to react. But that doesn’t seem quite right — not for her, anyway. No, there’s something about being allowed to witness it — to be in the presence of such vulnerability, as mundane as it may be, and to be invited in to tend to it. To know that when you experience that vulnerability yourself, that care will be returned.

It would be a simple thing, if she didn’t have to worry about protecting them from catching whatever this is. Two parts of her battling with one another, over and over, a war neither side will ever really win.

Charlotte sniffles and wipes at her nose again. At least here in the bathroom, it will be easy enough to clean up when she’s done — a hefty spritz of Lysol should wipe out most of the germs she hasn’t managed to catch in her towel. Still, she should probably be running the air purifier — would be, if she had the faintest idea where Toby shoved it after the last few weeds withered away when early November cemented the start of consistent sub-freezing temperatures for the season.

It’s probably a little excessive to be this vigilant about not spreading her cold when she’s the last one to catch it. But then again, there’s always the possibility that she’s come down with a different bug — that one of the dozens of colds and flus the teachers have been passing back and forth around the district since the return from winter break got to her. It is that time of year, when everyone’s sniffling or sneezing or hacking up a lung for some reason or another. For all she knows, this could be anything.

Really, it’s only common sense to be careful.

The creak of the front door opening, then shutting echoes through the quiet apartment. A second later, a low, chesty cough barks through the emptiness, heavy with congested inflammation.

A soft pang ripples through Charlotte’s chest.

“Charlotte?” Toby’s voice comes from somewhere down low as they call out through the apartment. Hoarseness and the start of a stuffy nose softens its edges and makes their tone a little more plaintive than they likely mean for it to be. “Are you home?”

“In the bath.” Charlotte grimaces — her own voice scrapes at the tender membranes of her vocal cords and tonsils, a hollowed-out, skeletal version of itself after spending all morning talking. 

Footsteps trudge down the carpeted hall. The bathroom door gets nudged open, and Toby slumps against its frame, their lips parted and nose tipped up. A soft glow rises from their dark skin, more the suggestion of a flush than the actual thing as swelling visibly blooms through their sinuses, leaving bags under their eyes and a dull sheen in their gaze.

“Aw, honey.” Charlotte sits up a little beneath the bubbles. A prickly buzz zings through her nose, her own sinuses protesting at the movement, and she presses the towel beneath her nostrils. “You look terrible. snff! Why’d you go to work? I thought you were — snff! — going to call out.”

“We were short-staffed.” Toby sniffles, their breath dragging across their airways with a desperately waterlogged sound. They stumble into the bathroom and shut the door behind them, trapping the steam — and all the germs she’s been exhaling for the past twenty minutes or so — inside with them. “Wasn’t that bad … mby head’s just fuckin’ packed.”

“I’m so sorry.” Charlotte sniffles again, a little more sharply, though her breath bristles across the tender passages of her nasal cavity. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes as she pinches her nostrils shut through the towel. “hgg’kt! hgg’gkt! hih … hih’gkkt!”

“Oh, baby, don’t do that.” Toby reaches to nudge a knuckle against her forehead. “You’re gonna give yourself a headache.”

“Sorry.” Heat filters through her cheeks as she sniffles back the dampness seeping around her septum, nerves still buzzing. She squints at Toby, their hand hovering just over her skin — a breath away from her teary eyes and trembling, unpredictable nose.

Clamping the towel tighter around her nostrils, she draws her knees closer toward her chest and watches a tiny clump of bubbles drip down her skin and back into the water. “I’m not feeling very well.”

Affection tugs at the corner of Toby’s mouth. “I sort of gathered that, lovebug.” They brush her hair back from her forehead. “Honestly, I’mb surprised it took you this long to get sick.”

“Yeah, well, it mbight — snff! — mbight nd-ndot — itschhiuhhh! tschh’iuhhh! tschhh’ihhh!” Bubbles tremble across the water’s surface, leaving the pale skin of her breasts down to the buds of her nipples exposed. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about in Toby’s presence — casual nakedness isn’t exactly frowned upon in this apartment — but as she sniffles into the towel, she hugs her other arm across herself anyway.

“Bless you.” Toby drops a kiss on the top of her head. Through her hair, their breath gusts warm and heavy, coming in and out through their parted lips. They kneel on the bath mat, their face hovering close enough to the steamy water that their nostrils scrunch a little. “Did you start feeli’g bad this mborning?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t get bad until this afternoon.” Charlotte gives her nose a soft blow into the towel and shakes her head a little. “I mean, not that it’s bad now. I’m just … sniffly.”

 Toby gives an unconvinced grunt. They roll the sleeve of their sweatshirt up and dip their hand in the water. “You’re losi’g your voice, angel.”

“A little.” Charlotte lets herself lean back against the lip of the tub again, her nose tipping up, towel still held at the ready against her nostrils. The itch at the back of her nasal cavity tendrils along her sinuses, poking through her cheeks and out along the bridge of her nose. She narrows her eyes a little, squinting up at the ceiling. “You don’t sound much better. How do you feel?”

“Stuffy, mbostly.” Toby swirls their hand through the bath water, creating a tiny eddy. The bathroom’s fluorescent light shines off the round end of their nose, their skin swollen and shiny with a slightly polished look, as if they’ve spent the whole day trying to scrub it into submission. “Sorta achy, and I guess mby chest started feeling weird around an hour ago, but it’s not anything crazy.”

The towel tickles Charlotte’s lip as a smile plays along the corner of her mouth. “That sounds like more than just a stuffy nose, Bee.”

A shiver winds through Toby’s shoulders. They flick water toward Charlotte. “Don’t make that face at me. I’ve been too busy to really thingk mbuch about it.”

“No, no, I know. I’m not laughing at you. You’re just cute.” A dribble of warm moisture creeps along the inner corner of Charlotte’s left nostril. She gives her nose a firm nudge with the towel as an involuntary flutter trembles through her eyelashes. “Have you ch — hehh! — checked your t-temp — hih’ishhh! isshhuihh! … snnff — temperature?”

Toby lifts their shoulder to shove at their nose. A sniffle crackles through their overinflated sinuses. “How would I do that at work?

“Don’t you have a first aid kit?”

“For, like, ah — huhh!” They scrunch their nose, head tipping back and lips parting. For a moment, they’re both silent in anticipation — Toby, gasping in the vague direction of the ceiling, and Charlotte, biting back the rise of warmth that beats bashfully at the back of her throat. 

They hang in suspense for only a second or two, as the sneeze fizzles out before it even really starts — Toby’s breath peters out in a long, stuffy sigh, and when they drag their index finger back and forth under their septum, a soft, squishy sound comes from their nose. They give a low, husky cough. “The thermbobeter is for actual embergencies.”

“God bless you,” Charlotte murmurs, despite the hazy look of annoyance Toby shoots her. She frowns. “You sound itchy.”

“I am … snrrk! Been itchy all day.” Toby twists to feel along the counter. They fumble for a moment before locating the box of tissues, then pull the whole thing down into their lap and rip a handful out. As they press it to their nose, they lift their eyebrows at Charlotte. “You look itchy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s nothing new.”

“I guess ndot.” Toby abandons the tissues on the floor and scoots closer to Charlotte. They prop their chin on the edge of the bathtub so they’re face-to-face, breathing in one another’s air. “Do I feel warm to you?”

Charlotte holds her breath, then shrinks back a little, her shoulderblades bumping the side of the tub. She should probably wash her hands before touching Toby — really wash them with hot water and soap, not just dunk them under the bubbles and hope for the best. Just to be safe.

Unless — unless she’s pegged this all wrong? What if this isn’t even a virus at all? She’s mistaken allergies for a cold dozens of times. No, probably hundreds. Not that January is prime allergy season, but didn’t someone mention something about a flower delivery at school? Someone could have gotten a bouquet delivered. Or maybe it’s their next-door neighbor with an early Valentine’s Day gift — the HVAC isn’t centralized, but they share a wall, and the insulation is paper thin. The microscopic particles of pollen could sneak through the cracks, couldn’t they?

Then again, allergies don’t usually cause her whole body to ache.

Toby nudges Charlotte’s shoulder with their thumb. “Hey,” they murmur. “You okay? You spaced out for a mbinute.”

“Yeah — no, sorry, I was just thinking.” An awkward, vaguely smile-shaped expression flits along the corner of Charlotte’s mouth. “Do you really want me to check? I’m definitely contagious. 

“Yeah, from the cold I gave you.” Toby ducks to the side to let out another rattly cough, then settles back on the edge of the tub, their forehead a little wrinkled as they sniffle. “Actually, blame Lupe. She’s the one who’s been sneezi’g everywhere. I’b just … snrrk! Guh. Well, this.” 

Charlotte’s nose runs behind the towel, slicking the edges of her nostrils in ticklish warmth. She steeples her hands over the damp terry cloth and massages her nose through it. “Either way, you definitely don’t want me to touch you.”

Toby’s bottom lip pouts out. “Oh, come on, feel mby forehead. snrrrk! We have the same cold. It’s not like I can catch it twice from you.” They flick their finger in the bubbles, casting several drops of water and suds against Charlotte’s cheek. “I was kinda planni’g on getti’g in here with you anyway.”

Charlotte shakes her head, though the gesture is a little hazy as her nostrils quiver. “You actually c-can get the same cold tw-twice — hdt’tschhihh! ht’tschhihhh! tschhh’ihhh!” She curls into herself with the sneezes, hands cupped tight around the towel as hot misery pours from each nostril. The towel stays pressed right up against her face, but still, it’s an imperfect cover, especially with Toby so close. How many germs slipped out into the air? Hundreds? Thousands?

Toby’s face ripples under the sheen of tears as a frown tugs their face into something sympathetic. “Bless you, bug.”

“Thangk you.” With a soggy sniffle, Charlotte mops at the mess spilling out toward her cupid’s bow. She shivers and tucks her knees closer to her chest. “The point is, we could have different colds, so — we should be careful.”

“I mbean, I’mb willing to risk it.”

Something tightens her throat, hot and barbed and ugly as Toby drags in another sniffle, the kind that sounds like they’re not really getting any air in at all. It’s not fair. They deserve to be held in the warmth of the bath, to have the aches of what’s probably a developing fever soothed, to be kissed and cuddled until they drift off to sleep. And oh, how she would love to provide that for them — to be the one to tend to their poor, tickly nose; to the ache in their throat; to make them tea and toast and whatever else they’d like until they start to feel a little more like themself.

If only her body had waited a week or two before falling prey to the whims of her rebellious immune system.

She blinks down at the bubbles, heat pricking at the backs of her eyes. “I’m not.”

Toby’s quiet for a moment, long enough that she sneaks a glance at them. They’re biting their bottom lip — chewing it, really. When they catch her eye, they lift their mouth in a patient smile. “Everythi’g’s less contagious in the bath.”

Charlotte’s nose scrunches through a sniffle. “That’s not how it works.”

“Sure it is.” Toby lifts a handful of bubbles and lets them drip off their fingers. “There’s soap and water and everythi’g. Sounds pretty safe to me.”

“nggkt! hgg’nktt!” She shudders through the bitten-back sneezes, her head pulsing with their force. When she blinks, tears shatter the bathroom into sparkly little shards. “Toby …”

“I’m teasi’g you.” Toby lifts their hand from the water and shakes it, flicking water off their skin. “It’s ndo big deal. You finish your bath, and I’ll pick out what we’re orderi’g for dinner. And then … mbaybe we could cuddle after I shower?”

Charlotte bites the inside of her cheek. “Probably not.”

“Tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I can’t — I can’t tell you.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I just … I can’t promise that I’ll be …” 

That my brain will have stopped spiraling. That I’ll be sure you’re safe. That anything will feel safe. 

“It’s okay.” Toby grips the edge of the tub and hoists themself up to their feet. Another kiss gets pressed to the crown of Charlotte’s head, delicate but warm. “I’ll mbake Lupe cuddle me, even if I have to hide her laptop and phone.”

In spite of everything, Charlotte coughs on a laugh, smothering it in her towel. “That’s so mean.”

“It’s for her own good.” Toby tugs their sleeve back down to their wrist. They rub it against their nose with a heavy sniffle. “Do you want soup for dinner, or somethi’g else? I’mb orderi’g DoorDash.”

“Soup is fine. I’m not very hungry.”

They nod. “I’ll pick out somethi’g salty. How’s your heart?”

“It’s been racing a little bit, but … it’s not terrible yet.” With another sniffle, Charlotte readjusts the towel against her nose. The tip of her index finger skims against her left nostril. She freezes, an ice cold dread washing through her. Is there mucus on her skin? It didn’t feel wet before, but it’s hard to tell now. Viruses don’t spread as well once the fluid carrying them dries out. But does it really matter? With how perpetually her nose has been running, her skin has to be teeming with germs, and now they’re on her hand, spreading, multiplying.

Toby brushes their thumb against her temple. “Hey,” they murmur. “You’re spaci’g out on me again.”

“I’m sorry.” Charlotte holds her finger out to the side, the joints in her hand going stiff enough her wrist starts to ache. “I don’t mean to be —”

“Shhhh.” Toby draws a slow circle over the side of her forehead with their thumb. “It’s okay. You don’t ndeed to explain yourself.”

Tears bud in the corners of Charlotte’s eyes. She bites down on her lip as they catch in her eyelashes. “I wish I could hug you.”

“You will, sooner than you think, I bet.” Toby offers her a gentle smile. They lean toward her a little, like they ache to give a reassuring touch, though they don’t push the physical contact further than their thumb on her face. 

“I kndow how these things go,” they say. “You just ndeed a little time and rest. That’s all.”

Charlotte swallows. Her throat stings and snatches her voice, turning it into a whisper. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

Toby’s hand shifts to tweak the top of her ear. “It’ll all be okay,” they say, the tenderness in their voice unshaken. “Everything will feel less overwhelmbing by tomborrow.”

On their way out the door, in spite of her refusal to touch them, in spite of everything, they blow her a kiss.

**

four years ago

The early morning light falls across the bed, bathing the sheets in shades of honey and cream and kissing the cheek of Charlotte’s very naked, very snuffly best friend.

She reaches across the approximate six inches of space between them and tugs the blankets up over Toby’s bare shoulder, tucking the plush layers in around their chin. Even with the haze of sleepiness still clinging to the edges of her consciousness, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips as the buzzing rumble of Toby’s breathing fills the room. They’re oblivious to the world, face pressed deep into their pillow, lips pouting out as they drag stuffy little gulps of air through their mouth in a lazy rhythm that, in the icy chill of early December, broadcasts the arrival of what can only be a burgeoning head cold.

Under the sheets, Charlotte curls her legs over theirs. The wiry fuzz growing over their skin tickles hers like tiny flower buds, kissing against her knees and thighs in the same places their mouth explored last night.

A blush creeps up her own bare skin and plays with her lips. The first time she ended up in Toby’s bed, it was easy to brush off as an accident — Charlotte lost track of time until it was too late to drive home; it only made sense for her to spend the night, and after smoking a bowl on the balcony … well, sometimes these things happen between friends. 

The second time, too, could be blamed on her own forgetfulness and fatigue, the lateness of the evening, the comfort Toby’s bed promised.

By the third, there was no more arguing the point — it was maybe a little intentional, and it was becoming a pattern.

It’s undefined, something they’ve fallen into without any rules or clear-cut boundaries — not the kind of thing she ever tends to tolerate. But this … this is different. It’s everything she and Toby have had for the past year, but with a little more quiet intimacy — sex, sometimes, but more than that, the peace of just knowing they can comfortably be with each other, whatever that looks like. A few minutes of someone else, someone she maybe loves, reminding her that existing in her body doesn’t always have to feel like a fight.

Across the pillow, Toby huffs a cough, then drags in a breath through their nose with a swollen, soggy sound. As their nostrils flare, the light from the window gleams off the dampness collecting inside them. It trembles against the walls of their nasal passages, too viscous to really draw a breath through and too far out of reach to dab away with a tissue.

Charlotte hums a sympathetic sound and slips a hand over the curve of their stomach, her fingers trailing along the rolls that carve peaks and divots through their side. Her palm settles at the small of their back, where she rubs a slow, gentle circle.

Under her touch, their skin glows warm. It’s a similar heat to the one that flamed through them last night, licking at their neck as she pressed kisses along their chest down to their belly button. At the time, it didn’t strike her as odd as her own arousal — a rare, special creature — rippled hot across her, keeping the two of them warm even without the blankets. Now, it seems more likely that they were already starting to spike a fever.

Toby coughs again, harder this time, the force of it cutting a line through their brow. The moisture in their nose trickles forward and coats their nostrils in a glistening sheen.

Charlotte extricates her hand from under the sheets to snag a couple of tissues from the nightstand. As she dabs at the underside of their nose, their eyes flicker open a crack, their lashes whispering together as they blink to make sense of her face in front of theirs. 

“Oh …” Their voice comes from the cavern of their chest, croaky and an octave lower than usual, like the testosterone they started microdosing last month has suddenly kicked into overdrive. “I don’t … snrrk! … I don’t feel so good …”

“I know, Bee.” Charlotte nudges her knuckle against the side of their nose and drags it down toward their nostril, coaxing some of the moisture inside to seep out and into the tissue. “You’re running a little bit of a fever.”

“Oh.” Toby’s nostrils quiver against her touch. They recoil a little, like their sinuses are already too bruised to handle being prodded. “How — when did you check?”

“I can tell just from lying next to you.” Charlotte sets the used tissues on the nightstand, then places the box atop the blankets near their legs. She cups a hand against Toby’s jaw and drags her thumb over their cheekbone. “How do you feel? You sound stuffy.”

“Yeah. snrrkk! Everybody at work’s been passi’g a cold back and forth, so … snrrk! … I guess it’s mby turn.” They duck into the sheets with another cough, the force of it strong enough that they reemerge with a wince etched over their face. “Mby head’s fucking poundi’g.”

“I’m so sorry.” Charlotte brushes a hand over their scalp, the tight coils of their overgrown buzz cut tickling her palm. She leans across the pillow to press a kiss between their eyebrows. “I’ll get you Tylenol and tea. Or Dayquil, if that’s better.”

“Uh — Dayquil, probably. snrrk! And Sudafed.” As she eases back from them, their eyebrows tug up, hazy confusion replacing the snarl of pain in their forehead. “You kndow I’m contagious, right?”

“Yes.” Charlotte presses the pad of her thumb against their bottom lip as a smile plays along her own. “You were probably also contagious when you had your tongue down my throat last night, so I think the damage has already been done.”

A raspy laugh rides out on their breath, all its usual warm, honeyed qualities stripped back as their cold chips away at their throat. At the tail end, it fizzles away into a groan. They bury their face in her chest, their nostrils trembling against her skin as they attempt to drag a breath in through their nose. “Just kill mbe.”

“Can’t.” Charlotte tucks a kiss against the back of their neck. “I can get medicine, if you let me up.”

“I’ll be cold.” They sniffle again, then exhale a shivery breath down her chest. Goose bumps bloom along her breasts and leave a trail toward her belly button. “Just … can we just lay here for a mbinute first?”

“Of course.” Charlotte smooths a hand along the back of their neck down to the space between their shoulder blades. “Although I feel bad we’re both naked … that’s not very cozy.”

Toby huffs a low laugh. “I’m ndot complaini’g.”

Charlotte giggles, then shimmies in closer; she folds her arms around Toby, holding them against her chest and tucking their face into the curve of her neck. The blankets leave them mostly unexposed, covering Toby up to their neck and hiding everything up to Charlotte’s bare shoulders. Still, a shiver winds through her and matches the chill working its way through Toby.

She tugs the blankets tighter around the two of them and rubs a hand up and down their back. “You’re off today and tomorrow, yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” Toby mumbles, nudging their nose against her neck. A dribble of moisture bleeds out onto her skin, as warm and watery as spring dew. It’s probably less than a drop, but every nerve beneath it flickers, alight with awareness of exactly where it touches her as it trickles down her neck. 

Objectively, it’s repulsive, the sort of thing that would make her want to turn herself inside out and douse her skin in bleach if it were from her own body. But instead of a nauseous whoosh in her stomach, there’s just a gentle pang in her chest, a warm dryness at the back of her throat.

She nudges a finger against Toby’s temple. “Do you need a tissue, sweetheart?”

Toby makes a desperate sound that’s abruptly aborted by a ragged snag in their breath. They pull back from her to sit upright, their lips snarling back over their teeth and nose tipping up, bare chest peeking up from under the sheets as it hitches.

“Huhhhhh!” Their breath bursts out like they’ve been punched, jagged and a little whiny. They fan a hand in front of their face, narrowed eyes on the ceiling as tears collect along their eyelashes. Their nostrils flare once, twice, three times, the gold hoop on the left side of their nose flashing bright, and then —

“hrrr’USHHHiuhh!” They snap forward at the waist to catch the sneeze in both hands. The force of it sends a shockwave through their stomach and breasts, their whole body trembling as they hang between the aftermath of one sneeze and the initiation of the next.

Charlotte’s neck flushes up to her ears. With her lip caught in her teeth, she blinks at Toby as their nose scrunches again, and twists her hands together in her lap, even as they itch to pass out tissues or rub Toby’s back.

No matter the cause, sneezing has always been an arduous process for Toby that requires their full attention. Where the slightest irritation can set her off instantly for an indefinite period of time, Toby’s the sort of person who has to fight for each one, to laser focus on every burning, crawling nerve and crackling synapse to coax the feeling forward. A misplaced breath or ill-timed blessing can sabotage the whole undertaking.

“Huhhh …!” Toby’s chest shudders with a breath that wants to become a moan. They drag the edge of their thumb against their septum, their nose ring flickering again as their nostrils quiver and flare in protest. They sniffle. Prod at their septum again.

Fresh tears bubble up in the corners of their eyes. With another sniffle, they give their septum a third nudge, their touch feather-light. Still, it’s like a flame to a fuse — their eyelids slam shut, and their breath rips into their lungs with a jagged gasp. “HRRSHHHiuhhh! Huhh! — hrrUSHHH’iuhh!”

The sneezes crash across the bed, aimed haphazardly in the general direction of their chest and the blankets. Mist glitters in the sunlight as it drifts through the air and glistens on Toby’s chest. Like a lazy stream, a rivulet of moisture trickles from their nose and puddles in the hollow of their cupid’s bow.

Warmth, tenderly curious like a vine unfurling, stretches through the hollow of Charlotte’s stomach.

Toby steels themself through a chill and sniffles with a desperate liquid sound, their upper lip twitching ever-so-slightly. “Guh … ’scuse mbe.”

“God bless you, Bee.” Charlotte rips a bouquet of tissues from the box. She takes Toby’s face in one hand, cradling their jaw in her fingers to tip their head back a little. Up close, every infinitesimal twitch of their nose and half held-back sniffle become obvious; their nostrils widen to show the angry tunnels of their nasal cavity, and little threads of scarlet weave through the whites of their eyes. Held in her hand, all these little things coalesce in a multisensorial display of their misery.

With a sympathetic tsk, she caresses the spot above their lip with the tissues, then squeezes their poor, sensitive nostrils until they stop trembling. 

“You can blow, if you want,” she murmurs.

Toby coughs out a laugh, their breath bursting hot against Charlotte’s wrist. “You really don’t want that.”

“I don’t mind.”

Toby blinks at her, something a little curious winding through the space between their brows. After a moment and another failed attempt at trying to breathe through their nose, they give in, their shoulders going lax and breath riding out in a shaky sigh. They draw in a breath through their mouth, then blow into the tissues.

The result is a horror — the squelchy, squeaking sound of overinflated sinuses grating against simmering, viscous mucus that exits their nose in a hot flood. Still, Charlotte doesn’t flinch, doesn’t find her skin crawling with the sensation of viruses wriggling over her fingers and hands, squirming, multiplying, hungry for a host.

“There you go,” she murmurs. She drops the tissues on the nightstand and pulls a fresh handful from the box. “Is this helping your head at all?”

“Mbaybe? It’s hard to tell.” Toby bites their lip as she dabs at their chest now, drying the moisture coating their skin. A shiver, slow and jagged, meanders through them. “Sorry about … all of this. It’s not exactly how I pictured this morning goi’g.”

“I don’t mind.” Charlotte follows the curve of Toby’s breast with the tissues. The back of her throat flickers warm again as goose bumps bloom from the soft bud of their nipple up to their collarbone. “I like taking care of you.”

“Oh.” Toby blinks at her, tears still caught in the soft curl of their eyelashes, the tiny drops of water sparkling in the soft morning light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’b, uh … I’b kind of surprised you’re this … snrkk! I don’t know. Touchy?”

Charlotte pulls the tissues back, letting them hover over their skin. She offers them a sheepish smile. “Am I being annoying?”

“Ndo, ndo. I — I like it.” Toby knuckles the side of their nose and tugs the blankets up over one shoulder, leaving half their chest exposed for Charlotte. “I just thought … well, you basically put yourself in solitary confinembent every time you get so mbuch as a sniffle, so I just figured this mbight be too mbuch.”

Charlotte shrugs. “It’s just a cold.”

“I’b just sayi’g I wouldn’t blame you. I’b objectively gross right ndow.”

She tucks a kiss against their shoulder, her lips gentle over the goose bumps dotting their skin. “You’re not gross. You’re just sick.”

“I can be both at once.” They clear their throat with a ragged, broken sound low in their chest and draw their knees closer to their stomach. Under the fevery gloss brightening their gaze, something a little timid hides in the taut corners of their eyes and creases the space between their brows. “You’re definitely goi’g to get this, and I just — I feel kind of bad.”

“Everybody gets sick this time of year.” Charlotte smooths her thumb over the wrinkle in Toby’s forehead. “If it makes you feel any better, half the teachers have been out sick, so I probably would have gotten it at work if I didn’t get it from you.”

“Yeah, but I feel — snrkk! Guhhhh, sorry.” They rip a tissue from the box, then a second, and scrub their nose into it. The soft paper muffles their voice a little. “I just feel like you have a hard time. I mbean, I know you’re already deali’g with your heart shit, and then I don’t hear from you for a couple days whenever there’s something else, and just … I don’t kndow. I feel like you have an especially bad time.”

Charlotte sets her handful of used tissues with the others on the nightstand. Settling back against the pillows, she pulls the blankets up over the two of them, tugging them tight around their shoulders to block out the chill of the morning.

She tips her head back against the headboard — a white wicker piece that stands in such stark contrast to the neon graffiti-style paintings and headless nude busts accenting Toby’s bedroom that the only explanation for its existence is that it was thrifted. On the ceiling, the fan blades spin in a lazy circle.

One. Two. Three. Four.

“You know I’m … kind of obsessive about certain things,” she says.

“Duh.” Toby buries their face deeper in their tissues to muffle a cough that rattles low in their chest, like this cold is debating whether or not it wants to settle in their head or venture into their bronchial tubes. With a buzzy sniffle, they ball up the tissues and toss them toward the end of the bed. “I sort of thought that was part of it. That you were, like … I don’t kndow, scared of germs.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Charlotte shifts against the headboard, the wicker digging into the knob of her skull. With a wince, she drops her head to Toby’s shoulder and nestles in closer to them. Despite the evident inflammation beginning to settle in their airways, their chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm.

“That’s part of it, but I think it’s more like … I don’t know. I think it’s about feeling out of control.” She presses her nose against Toby’s neck and inhales. The soft heat of their fever carries with it their usual scent — mint and coffee, and beneath it, something sweetly musky. 

She lets her eyes close. “Just — right now, I feel fine. It’s easy to take care of you, and I … you’re actually sort of cute like this.”

A laugh hums low in Toby’s chest, though it’s not a foreign concept to them — Charlotte’s propensity to swoon at a crush with a sniffly nose has come up in a half a dozen casual conversations about the nuances of their sexualities, and even before she started spending the night, Toby took full advantage of it on days when their hayfever was at its worst. Still, they give her hip a gentle poke with their thumb. “Am ndot.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Either way, I feel like I know what to do when it’s you. But when it’s me, I just feel — everything feels so out of control, worse than it already does every day, and I think it just becomes too much.” She sighs and blinks up at the fan. “It’s like my brain just goes into fight or flight, and all I know how to do is worry about protecting people from … well, from me, I guess.”

“But it doesn’t have to be different.” Toby’s arm shifts against her as they raise their hand to shove at their nose. The congestion protests with a swollen squeak as it’s jostled. “I could take care of you like how you’re taki’g care of mbe. You deserve that.”

“Logically, I know that. But it’s just … I don’t know.” Charlotte reaches forward to snag a tissue, then presses it into their hand. For just a second, she steals a glance at Toby, just long enough to watch their nostrils scrunch as they continue fussing at them. “There’s something messed up in my brain that makes it harder to be okay with that.”

“Is it mbe?” Toby pulls back a little to look at her, the tissue still pressed over their nose. It hides most of the lower half of their face, but still, something a little insecure tugs at their brows. “I mbean, am I doi’g somethi’g that’s mbaki’g it harder for you?”

“Oh, no, Bee, of course not.” Charlotte tucks a kiss against their shoulder, then peppers three more across their skin. “I’ve always been like this. It’s … I don’t know what it is. Probably a combination of a lot of things.”

Toby sniffles. “Does anythi’g help?”

“I don’t know. Trust, I guess.”

“Well, we can keep worki’g on that.”

“Yeah.” Charlotte tugs them in closer as another chill winds through them. “I do really want to. It’s just … sometimes it’s easier not to fight it than to spiral.”

Toby blows their nose with a much more restrained sound than a moment ago, though the effort still makes them cough. They sag into Charlotte, their head falling back against the headboard. “But then you mbiss out on the care you deserve.”

“I know.” Charlotte cranes her neck to look at them. “I’m weird, aren’t I? I mean, I feel like … I’m trying to put a lot of contradictions into words, and it all sounds sort of silly.”

A smile plays along the corner of Toby’s mouth. They don’t open their eyes as they shrug. “Of course you’re weird. I wouldn’t like you if you weren’t.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes again, though the edge of her lips twitch.

Toby sniffles, the air crackling through their sinuses. They rub their hand against the bridge of their nose and squint at Charlotte. “Contradictions are ndormal, I thingk,” they say. “We all have them.”

“I guess so.” Charlotte tucks herself back in against their shoulder. “Mine just feel … particularly silly.”

“They’re really ndot.” Toby lets their cheek rest against her forehead as a soft sigh gusts through their lips. “For what it’s worth, I’d at least like to bring you soup or somethi’g when you get this, if that’s okay.”

Charlotte bites her lip for a moment, then nods. “I can handle soup.”

Another sniffle. “Tea?”

“Soup and tea would be good.”

“And mbaybe I could check up on you?” Toby catches a cough against their wrist. “Just — I don’t know, rub your back or sit with you for a little bit?”

A laugh sneaks into Charlotte’s voice. “Now you’re pushing it.”

Toby shrugs again. “Hey, if I have to take things slow, I’ll take them slow, even if that mbeans I have to start out with just droppi’g off food.”

“Thank you.” Charlotte eases back from them a little, shifting so they can rest their head against her shoulder. She strokes a finger over their temple and watches the light play across their face. Their eyelashes cast shadows over their cheeks like honey bees’ wings. “It really means a lot.”

“It’s what friends do.” They crack open one eye to peek at her, the deep brown of their iris shadowed by their lashes and fever. “Would you still be here if we didn’t, uh … if we didn’t fuck around last ndight?”

A blush warms Charlotte’s ears. She fiddles with the edge of the blankets. “Toby, it’s me. As much as I enjoyed it, the, er … fucking is the least interesting part of things with you. I’d just as happily put together puzzles or … or bake cookies or watch The Office reruns with you.”

Toby lets out a low, quiet laugh. They lift their head to whisper a kiss against her lips. “I got you to say ‘fuck.’”

“You fucking did.” Charlotte leans in closer to tuck another kiss to their lips, her fingers straying from their temple to the base of their skull to cradle their heavy head. As their nostrils tremble against her face, she eases back and lets her forehead settle against theirs, allowing a breath of air between them. 

A smile spreads across her mouth. “Anyway, if we hadn’t … if things went differently last night, I might kiss you a little less to avoid tempting fate, but yes. I’d still be here.”

Another laugh, warm like the sunlight, rumbles in Toby’s chest. They nuzzle in closer to her, the tip of their nose brushing hers. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing they went how they did, then.”

**

“Bless you, bless you … bless you!”

Charlotte doesn’t lift her head from her sleeve as her breath gives an uncertain tremble. She blinks back the sting of tears. “Thanks, but you — snrrff! — you don’t have to keep saying it.” She rubs the cuff of her sleeve against her nose, then glances up at Lupe, the sheen of tears and fatigue casting a bleary glow over the bedroom. “It’s not going to stop anytime soon.”

Lupe, stretched out on Charlotte’s left side beneath a snowflake-printed throw blanket, shrugs. She cranes her neck to kiss the back of Charlotte’s shoulder. “You still deserve it, bebé,” she murmurs. The ghost of swollen sinuses pinches her voice into something ever-so-slightly nasal — not enough that her coworkers probably notice after a week of far more obtrusive symptoms, but still enough to prick at Charlotte’s chest. 

Charlotte coaxes the corner of her lip up into a wobbly smile, then sinks deeper into her pillow, her eyes squeezing shut as the inside of her nose continues to tingle. She drags her sleeve against her septum, her nostrils flaring a little, the skin hot and oversensitive after less than a day of dealing with this cold. The streak of moisture it leaves across the lavender fleece of her shirt makes her stomach knot with disgust, but sometime around an hour ago, she used her last tissue, and … well, after Lupe practically wrestled her into lying down with the two of them instead of camping out on the couch, it’s just too cozy to get up for a new box.

Probably, she should ask Lupe to get it for her, should resign herself to keeping a whole layer of tissues permanently plastered over her nose, held at the ready while her sinuses stir with an unpredictable prickle. But after several hours of Lupe going back and forth between her laptop and answering work calls, the three of them have really only just settled in for the evening. Surely, as long as she keeps the firm press of her sleeve against her face, she can keep the worst of her germs contained, even if her reflexes are starting to feel a little fuzzed over with fatigue.

On her right, a cough rattles up from Toby’s chest, the force of it jostling the mattress beneath Charlotte. It’s unmuffled, ripping out into the open air in a warm, wet eruption — though it’s not like she can blame Toby. Not with how miserably congested their head and lungs have sounded all night, or with the fever aching in their bones.

She fumbles a hand up against their shoulder, then lifts her head to peek at them. For a breath of a second, her vision flickers along the edges, her heart throwing itself up against her ribcage. “Aw, Bee. Are you due for more medicine yet?”

Toby shakes their head, one hand holding an ice pack in place on their forehead. Their mouth droops open in a soft O, any attempts to breathe through their nose having long since been abandoned. “Ndot for another hour.”

Lupe hums a sympathetic sound and reaches across Charlotte to rub her hand over their chest. “Can I take you to urgent care tomorrow? That sounds like the start of bronchitis.”

Toby’s face wrinkles with a frown. “Ndo.” They scrub the back of their wrist against their nose. “It’s just some coughi’g.”

“A lot of coughing.”

“Where’s the — ischh’ihh!” Charlotte dips down in the space between the three of them, the cuff of her sleeve catching the brunt of the sneeze, though a wisp of her breath still slips around it and out into the air. She scrunches her nose against the soft — and now very damp — fabric. It would be easier to fully contain all the sneezing and sniffling, if only the gears of her nervous system didn’t feel so gummed up by exhaustion and the constant, needling burn at the back of her sinuses. 

She shoves her sleeve harder against her nose as her breath continues fluttering in her lungs. “We should probably run the — idtschh’iiuhh! snnrff! — the humidifier tonight.”

“Good idea, if I can find it.” Lupe presses a kiss to Charlotte’s temple, then shifts her hand to smooth it over her shoulder. “Poor things. I’m so sorry you’re both so sick.”

Toby huffs out a quieter cough, though it still rumbles with that rattly sound low in their chest. “Just try to keep that attitude tondight when we’re both snori’g and keepi’g you up.”

“I will.” Lupe nudges her nose against the space just above Charlotte’s ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to take anything?”

“Can’t.” Charlotte lifts her wrist, tilting the face of her watch toward Lupe. A tiny heart pumps on the screen, with the digits 112 flickering in red beside it. “My heart’s already going nuts.”

“Jesus.” Lupe muffles a light cough into her sweatshirt sleeve. “Have you been drinking enough? I can get you tea or hot chocolate or something.”

Charlotte’s eyes water. She lifts her shoulder and nudges the tip of her nose against it. “Hih’tschhihh!” Her nostrils tremble through a sniffle. “Yes. I mean, I could always drink mhihhmore, but — ihh’tschiihhh!”

She lets herself dip forward with the second sneeze, sleeve drifting toward her face but not quite close enough to where it should be, and bumps her nose directly against Lupe’s waiting wrist.

Lupe laughs. “Bless you!”

Horror pounds through Charlotte’s chest, as hard as her heartbeat. She knocks Lupe’s arm to the side as she brings her wrist up to her nose to rub it. She glares at her, though the hazy, itchy, teary-eyed look that’s clouded her features all evening probably dulls the effect. “What the hell?”

Lupe pokes her shoulder. “Potty mouth.”

Toby coughs on a laugh.

Charlotte rolls her eyes. She muffles a damp sniffle in her sleeve. “Are you trying to get sick again?”

Lupe blinks at her, the soft glow of the bedroom drawing long shadows under her eyelashes. “With the cold I gave you? Not particularly, no.”

Charlotte grits her teeth against the tremble in her breath, though it’s a battle she’s lost from the start. “So don’t — etschh’ihh!” She catches the sneeze behind the neckline of her shirt, though only just, then keeps it there as her nostrils continue flaring. “Don’t do stupid things like — hih’etschiih! — like that!”

“Ah, mi amor.” Lupe tugs Charlotte’s shirt down and cups her face in both hands. She plants a kiss between her brows. “You need a nap. And a tissue.”

And, because she’s stubborn and caring and a little bit of an idiot, she swipes her sleeve under Charlotte’s nose, clearing the dampness dripping from both nostrils.

Charlotte’s mouth falls open. “Lupe!”

Lupe giggles. “Calm down, calm down. I’ll put on clean pajamas in a minute and quit fussing at you then.”

With a groan, Charlotte rolls over to bury her face in her pillow, then un-buries her face as gravity makes everything in her sinuses flood forward. It’s so typical — Lupe acts like she’s invincible, like nothing can hurt her, like she can just do whatever she wants without repercussions, even if she’s still suffering the consequences from her last mistake.

It’s maybe not the fairest way to frame things — it’s not like it’s her fault she got sick in the first place (though maybe if she’d slowed down at work — but it’s in the past, that can’t be changed …) — but still. What’s even the point of being careful if she’s just going to stick her fingers where they don’t belong and make sure she picks up all of Charlotte's germs anyway?

Charlotte’s breath gives a soft snag. She shoves her face back into her pillow with a harshly muffled “h’tschhhffff! tschhh’mphhhhh!” set of sneezes.

“Bless you,” Lupe says, dragging the words out, voice saccharine.

Charlotte groans again.

Toby’s breath rides out on a raspy sigh. “At least you can sndeeze. I’ve just been stuck on the edge all day.”

“Mm, stuck on the edge?” Lupe props herself up on an elbow, her bare feet kicking up in the air. “You make it sound sexy.”

Toby glances sideways at her, a scowl cutting across their forehead. “It’s so ndot.”

In spite of Lupe’s ridiculous behavior, something warm and a little bashful flutters through Charlotte’s chest — probably a silly thing to feel after years of the same routine, the same question every time Toby catches a cold and finds their reflexes suddenly don’t want to cooperate without an outside nudge. But there it is anyway, fragile and a little awkward, like a baby bird just emerging from its shell. 

She swallows and lifts her face from the pillow. “Do you — do you need help?”

Wordlessly, Toby leans into her shoulder and nods. The icepack falls to the side, plopping on the sheets between them.

Lupe’s finger jabs into her hip. “Hypocrite.”

Charlotte frowns across the pillow at her. “I’m allowed.”

Lupe raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Half the teachers district-wide are sick. I basically work in a petri dish.” Charlotte rubs the side of her nose with her knuckle. “I’m at just as much risk here as I am at work. Less so, probably.”

Lupe grimaces. “You’re calling out tomorrow, right?”

Against her shoulder, Toby’s nostrils flare with a dull squeak as they nudge their nose against her shirt. 

Her heart stutters a little. She squints at Lupe. “What part of what I just said didn’t you hear?”

Lupe lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “It’s a Friday. Can’t they just put on movies or give the kids board games or something?”

Charlotte narrows her eyes at her, though a pair of “ihh’tschhihh! hihh — hdt’schhihhh!” sneezes hastily caught against the cuff of her sleeve snatches her attention away before she can think of a response.

Toby shoves their face deeper into Charlotte’s sleeve. “Maybe it’ll sndow,” they mumble. “And everyone will stay ho’be and — snrrk! — and I can just … ndap in the breakroom while it’s slow.”

Lupe sighs. “You’re both impossible.” The bed groans as she stands. “I’m getting tea — do you want anything else?”

“Tea would be good. snrrff! Peppermint, if you don’t mind.” Charlotte tips her head back — if she has to put up with Lupe acting so blasé around avoiding another round of illness, she may as well get a forehead kiss out of it — then lifts herself up on an elbow. As Lupe pads out into the hallway, she blinks away the dizziness that comes with changing positions, then touches Toby’s shoulder. “Tilt your head up for me, Bee.”

Toby cracks one eye open to blink at her. Their nose scrunches through an unproductive sniffle. “Mby head feels like it’s gonna explode,” they mumble. A flutter runs through their eyelashes. Their right nostril flares. “And it’s s-so ihhhhtchy.”

A coil of something warm and wanting — something that, on another night, might be enough to lead her fingers to wander over the waistband of Toby’s boxers, or to tease the sensitive skin under their shirt — unravels through Charlotte’s stomach. In moments like this, it’s always felt a little perverse to feel anything but sympathy, but … then again, is it, really? She’s just doing as they asked.

And with the way the corner of their mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, it’s not like they don’t know exactly what they’re doing to her.

A blush blossoms through her cheeks and carries her heart high in her throat. It thumps there, hard enough to color the bedroom in shades of gray for a moment. She drags in a deep breath, scrunching her nose against her own wanton sinuses. “Your head will hurt less if we can — if we can get some of the pressure out.”

“Yeah.” Toby lets their body loll to the side, settling squarely on their back with their head against their pillow. With another sniffle, they tip their head back and glance sideways toward Charlotte. “It’s like — right at the center of mby ndose, kinda? Or — I don’t kndow. The feeli’g keeps mbovi’g.

Charlotte bites her lip. She eases herself up to sit, then slumps back against the headboard for a second, her head thudding in time with her heart.

Toby’s hand falls on her thigh. “You can lie back down,” they murmur. “It’s ndot that important.”

“No, no, it’s — I’ll be fine in a second.” She lifts her eyelids just enough to peer out at them. “I think my ears are probably a little messed up, and it just … makes everything a little worse.”

“You’re gonna be stuffy tomborrow.” Toby tips their head to the side to kiss her bare knee. “You’re always congested by the second day.”

“Probably, yeah.” Charlotte knuckles her septum. Upright, an even steadier stream runs from her nostrils, and the itch that’s bothered her all day feathers like a flame from the back of her throat to the tip of her nose, filling every nook and cranny of her nasal cavity with a burning, bristling heat. As the bottom falls out from beneath her breath, she lifts her arm in front of her face. “hihh! … hih’itschhhih!-itschh’ih!-itschh’ihh!”

The trio of sneezes scrapes over her throat, rougher than all the others and stumbling out in a rush, the syllables almost tripping over one another, like her body can’t evict the cold from her head fast enough. She drags her nose along the length of her sleeve with a heavy, damp sniffle. “Guhhh … bless me. Sorry.”

Toby kisses her knee again. “You’re gonna be up all ndight, aren’t you?”

“Probably, but so are you.” Charlotte drags in another sniffle, the sensation of her nerves being pricked by a thousand needles not assuaged in the slightest. Her pulse rings in her ears like a broken metronome, discordant and without rhythm. She lets her head fall back against the headboard as her breath shudders. “Just … snrrf! … sorry, give me another sehehhhcond.”

Footsteps shuffle over the carpet, the creaky floorboard at the entrance to the bedroom announcing Lupe’s entrance. “Kettle’s heating up,” she says as she wanders toward the bed, an unopened tissue box tucked under her arm. She pauses at the foot of the bed and tilts her head. “What are you doing?”

“I — tschh’uehh! tsch’ihhh! tschh’uhh! oh …” Charlotte keeps her sleeve pressed against her septum, a pool of warm moisture collecting under her nostrils and spilling onto the soft material. She inhales with a tragically waterlogged sound and blinks through teary eyes at Lupe. “I got dizzy.”

“Oh, honey. You’re too pitiful to be up right now.” Lupe skirts the bed, coming around to Toby’s other side. She pats their shoulder. “Scootch over. Let me help.”

Toby pouts up at her. “You don’t have Charlotte’s mbagic fingers.”

“I’m a good listener. I’ll figure it out.” Lupe climbs onto the bed and swings one leg up over Toby’s hips, straddling them. She gives the tip of their nose a gentle tap. “Tip your face back, princess. Let me see your nose.”

Toby’s breath shudders. They scrub their wrist across their face. “Be careful … I’b sendsitive.”

Charlotte reaches toward Lupe — an instinctive move to slow her down, maybe, or to give her any kind of directions — but before she can say or do anything, she has to snap her arm back into place as her eyes force themselves shut again. “atschhihhh! hih’atschhhihh! atschhhh’uehh!”

“Bless you!” Lupe’s fingers skim along her thigh. “Lie down, honey. I’ll take care of you both.”

Charlotte snubs her nose against her sleeve. She strains to open her eyes as her breath shudders. “I can’t st-stop — hih’atschhhuehh! atschhh’uehhh!”

A handful of tissues gets pressed into her palm. “Lie down,” Lupe says again, the humor from a moment ago gone, replaced by patient tenderness. “It’ll help your nose quit freaking out.”

That seems doubtful — in the past minute or so, the sneezes have taken on a heaviness that warns of looming congestion, and now that they’re coming every few seconds, it’s unlikely they’ll slow down anytime soon — but still, she eases herself back down onto the pillows beside Toby, tissues pressed tight against her nose as tears bead along the edges of her lashes.

Through narrowed, damp eyes, she watches Lupe perch on top of Toby, bending forward over their face to inspect their nose, one hand poised just above their quivering, swollen nostrils, fingers outstretched with an uncharacteristic timidness.

With Toby all but pinned under Lupe, and Lupe hesitating atop their shivering chest, the whole thing drips with a delicious sensuousness, the kind that makes that voyeuristic heat in Charlotte’s stomach unspool through her whole body and coil tight in her throat.

Or it would, if her own body didn’t demand she duck away to stifle a trio of sneezes in her tissues. 

Lupe touches her shoulder. “Bless you, amor. Goodness,” she whispers.

Charlotte inhales with a slightly gaspy sound behind the tissues, then coughs. The room spins like a slow-motion carousel, a combination of arousal and her nervous system running haywire under the weight of this cold.

Her fingers fumble against Lupe’s thigh. “Just — you want to be really gentle.” She drags the very edge of her fingernail along Lupe’s thigh, light enough that a shiver runs through Lupe. “Like this.”

Lupe copies the motion on her thigh, then nods. With one hand, she cups the side of Toby’s face, her fingers caressing the slightly inflamed crest of their cheek. With the other, she runs a finger over their brow bone and cheeks and lets out a soft tsk.

“No wonder you can’t breathe … I can feel the swelling in your face,” she murmurs.

Toby’s chest shudders with an unsteady breath. “It fuckin’ t — hihhh! — tickles,” they mumble.

“I imagine so.” Lupe’s finger carves a lazy C-shape from their cheek to the ring in their left nostril. She gives it a feather-light nudge.

With a tumultuous breath, Toby recoils. They squirm a little, head tipping farther back against the pillows as their nose trembles. A faint sheen collects along the inner corners of their septum, flickering in time with their breath.

Dry heat rises along the back of Charlotte’s throat and blisters over her sore tonsils. “Their — atshhh’iiihh!” She blushes; the sneeze rides out breathless and a little whiny, betraying the arousal riding through her stomach and prickling along her skin. “Their septum is m — hihh! — most s-sensitive.”

Lupe gives a thoughtful hum as Charlotte muffles another sneeze behind her tissues. For a moment, she lets Toby continue sniffling and hitching fruitlessly beneath her, her thighs straining a little as she holds them firmly against the bed. As she watches, her head tilts to the side, as though she’s calculating her next move. Then, she tips Toby’s chin up, exposing the raw, wet underside of their nose, and holds a finger just above their septum.

Charlotte squeezes her nose hard through the tissues. Tears and the flicker of dizziness cloud her vision, but she blinks, blinks, blinks, blinks, trying to bring her partners into focus.

Most often, this is the sort of thing she enjoys best — watching the two of them touch each other in whatever form it takes, stepping in when asked, but otherwise sitting to the side, observing. Seeing the two people she loves most lose themselves in one another has, oddly, always been more satisfying than fucking them or being fucked — not exactly in a physical sense, per se, but in some deeper, all-encompassing way. It’s not the split-second rush of an orgasm, but a head-to-toe, filling warmth, taking root deep inside and blooming through her like wildflowers.

“There you go,” Lupe murmurs, her voice low and sweet. Her index finger drops lower, the very tip of her nail skimming the angry skin of Toby’s philtrum, tracing from their upper lip to their septum with a soft beckoning motion.

“Huuhhhhhh’HUHHHH!” Toby’s chest rolls and crashes like a wave, their whole body trembling beneath Lupe. A tear beads along their eyelashes and trickles down their cheek, leaving a gleaming trail over their fevery skin. “I — huhhhhh’uhhhhh! Oh god, just — huhhhhhh!”

Sweat buds along the back of Charlotte’s neck and makes the room reverberate with her heartbeat. Her hands itch to reach out, to comfort or speed the process along, but her own misery consumes her attention, tortures her almost to the point of speechlessness, binding her in place.

“I’ve got you,” Lupe murmurs, though she doesn’t rush. No, she drags each second out, brushing her other hand over Toby’s forehead as she gives their nose ring a gentle — but ultimately useless — flick.

Toby’s breath careens through their lungs. Their shoulders lift up off the pillow, then collapse back down again. “Just — huuhhhhhhh! — fuck, god, just get — huhhhhh’uhhhhhhh! — get it over with!”

Lupe bites down on a wicked grin. She tweaks Toby’s cheek. “So impatient.”

Toby’s face is a catastrophe, undone by desperation and need as they shove their nose against Lupe’s knuckle. “I’ve ndeeded to sndeeze all fuck — huhh’HUHHHHHH!” Their eyes nearly roll back in their head with the force of the tickle, head jerking back and nostrils flaring wildly. Mess coats their skin with a glossy shine and trails down along their upper lip as their breath shudders in and out, in and …

Nothing. The would-be sneeze fizzles away in a sigh. They sniffle with a painfully congested sound, the air squeaking and squelching through their inflated sinuses, and let out a hoarse whine. “Lu, please …”

A kick of heat fires in Charlotte’s stomach, strong enough she has to squeeze her legs together. She’s not sure what does it — the whine of Toby’s voice, or those needy, helpless gasps, or the confident posture of Lupe on top of them, the keys to their relief held in the tips of her fingers.

Either way, watching the two of them, her body hums, so electric her soul almost feels floaty, disconnected from her sizzling, popping nerves. Probably, her breath wouldn’t be any steadier even if she weren’t on the verge of sneezing for the billionth time this evening. Probably, she’d be just as dizzy even if there weren’t a cold clogging up her brain. Probably, she wouldn’t even feel more grounded if her own body weren’t in need of the same relief Toby’s so visibly begs for.

“I’ve got you, honey.” Lupe dusts a kiss against Toby’s forehead. “Just hold still for me, okay? I can’t help if you’re squirming all over the place.”

The buzzing in Charlotte’s sinuses suddenly peaks.

She scrabbles at Lupe’s thigh. “Hihh! — w-wait,” she gasps, lips and nose damp with mess and wanting. She clasps the tissues tight to her nose as her breath gives way. “hih’nxshhhh! ngk’tshhh! ngk’xtshhh! ngkkt’chhihh!”

The sneezes rattle through her head and rip at her throat, the effort it takes to stifle them filling her head with pressure like an overfilled balloon. She gasps in a heavy breath and blinks away the tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

Lupe raises an eyebrow at her, though that grin from a moment ago still plays along her lips. “Done?” she asks. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the show.”

Charlotte’s cheeks flame. From behind her tissues, she nods.

This time, when Lupe cups Toby’s face in one hand, she doesn’t hesitate with the other — she angles her index finger just over their septum, fingernail poised to prod at their most sensitive nerves, to put an end to the torture.

Toby’s breath trembles before she’s even touched them. “I’m gonna s-sndeeze,” they gasp out.

“Well, I’d certainly hope so,” she says, tracing her fingernail along the rim of their right nostril. When they try to flinch away, her other hand holds them in place. She trails her fingernail along their left nostril, even as it flares and oozes mess over her skin. Beneath her, their chest lifts and crashes like a surging sea, angry lungs wheezing a little as they build closer and closer to the release.

When she touches their septum, the reaction is immediate — there’s no time to prepare, to pull back, to even put up a hand as a meager shield. With a breath as strong and sharp as a sail being ripped in half, Toby rears back against the pillow, teeth bared and mouth open wide. “HRRRUSHHH’uehhhh!”

The sneeze blasts over the three of them in a burst of hot air and warm mist. In the low light of the bedroom, the aftermath glistens in the air and on their upper lip, streaming down their face in twin rivulets as their chest continues rolling with unsteady breaths.

Lupe blinks, hand — now freckled with moisture — still hanging lax over Toby’s face. “Bless —”

Toby makes a desperate noise of protest and gives their head a little shake. Their breath knifes in and out of their chest. Tears bud in their eyes as their mouth hangs slack, their eyebrows knitting and nose scrunching. Their whole face contorts with the need to sneeze again as they hang on the edge.

Charlotte’s thoughts gloss over with dizziness, with basal perceptions of the warmth crackling through her own body, the trembling of Toby’s nostrils, the slightly stunned look on Lupe’s face, the way lust stirs low in her belly with a refrain of, oh my god oh my god oh my god.

Toby’s breath snags with a sound that wants to become a moan, somewhere between irritation and desire and desperation. With their eyes squeezed shut, they lean forward, nudging their nose against Lupe’s finger.

“Hrrr’ISHHHHHHuehhh!” Again, the sneeze overtakes them immediately, without preamble. They jolt sideways, sneezing half down at the blankets, half into Lupe’s stomach. Tears and snot roll down their face in a tide of misery, flowing onto their neck and into the neckline of their shirt. When they suck in a crackly breath, a cough rumbles low in their chest, like everything’s been knocked loose by the sneezes. As their breathing settles, they let out a long, relieved groan. “Fuckin’ finally.”

Charlotte sucks in air that’s suddenly become too thin. “God bless you,” she whispers. Somewhere in the distance, her watch buzzes, warning her what she already knows about her heart rate.

“Oh, I don’t think that quite covers it,” Lupe says, wiping her hand across her shirt. “I think we’d better invoke the name of every deity. Maybe even the prophets, too, just to be safe.”

Toby coughs out a low, exhausted laugh, their hand shielding the worst of the mess on their face as they fall back against the pillows. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Lupe snags an unholy number of tissues from the fresh box propped at the top of the headboard and nudges Toby’s hand to the side. She grimaces as she wipes their face. “Although no offense, but I’m taking a shower after I get you both tea.”

“That’s fair.” Toby pokes her stomach. “Even if this is all because of your cold.”

“Yeah, well, I can always catch it twice. Theoretically.” Lupe nudges her leg against Charlotte. “Right, honey?”

Charlotte nods, though the gesture goes blurry as her breath snags. Head still spinning a little and tissues lost somewhere in the blankets, she turns her face, half burying it in her pillow. “hih’dtschhhihh! hihhh … hih’itschhhihh! hih’ishhhuehh!”

“Bless you.” Lupe reaches to rub a hand against her shoulder. “You sound worn out.”

Charlotte fumbles on the bed for a moment before locating her crumpled tissues. She mops at her nose without lifting her head as a blush seeps up into her neck. “Yeah, I, um … snrrrf! I think watching you and Toby just, uh …”

Lupe bites down on that shiteating grin from a moment ago. “Don’t be coy.” She pinches Charlotte’s hip. “We’re very aware of what we do to you.”

Charlotte hides behind her tissues. “Shut up.”

“It’s cute.” Toby sniffles and tugs at Charlotte’s shirt until she looks at them. Under heavy eyelids, they blink at her with soft, slightly amused affection. “I’d kiss you, if I could breathe through mby ndose. I mbean, if you wanted, I’d do a lot mbore, but —”

“A kiss would be — a kiss is all I want.” Given the flushed, oversensitive state of her body, the razor’s edge her nervous system occupies, even that may be more than she can handle. She tucks her face against Toby’s shoulder. “But let’s wait until tomorrow.”

Toby hums affirmatively and nuzzles a light kiss against her temple. They linger there for a moment, their fingers drifting up from the hem of her shirt to settle against the side of her neck. “Your heart’s poundi’g.”

“I know.” Charlotte sniffles, then ducks down into her shirt with a ragged set of “ishhuehh! hih’itshhuehh!” sneezes. She sniffles as she reemerges and wipes her nose against her sleeve. “I think it’s just going to race for a while, probably.”

Lupe makes a sympathetic sound and brushes Charlotte’s hair back from her face. “Do you want Gatorade? Or maybe coconut water? I can get you something with electrolytes if that would help.”

Charlotte lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “It can’t hurt, I guess.”

“I’ll bring you a bottle just in case.” Lupe climbs off of Toby, settling on her knees at the foot of the bed. She taps Charlotte’s ankle through the blankets. “Do you need a shower, too? Not to be gross, but we’re kind of all covered in Toby’s germs now.”

Toby aims a halfhearted kick at her, then rolls onto their side and snuggles into Charlotte’s chest.

Charlotte holds up her wrist, indicating her watch. “I don’t think I have much choice, unless you want to pick me up off the floor.”

Lupe scrunches her nose. “I’d rather not.”

Charlotte curls closer to Toby as they sniffle into her shirt, their nose leaving a damp spot in the fabric over her heart. She’s taking a gamble — no, worse than that, she’s dooming herself. If Toby picked up their cold somewhere out of the house — unlikely, but possible — she and Lupe will both be down with it in the next day or two, maybe even less. Even if it is the same cold, adding on to the viral load — multiplying the work their immune systems are already shouldering — can’t be good for them. But somehow, it doesn’t really matter, not with it coming from Toby. A cold is a cold is a cold is a cold, even with one piling on top of the other.

It’s illogical, the weight she puts on trying to protect them from her own illness versus herself from theirs. But … well, it’s not exactly the sort of thing she can explain right now under the fog of fatigue, or pick apart for herself. It just is what it is.

She sniffles, heaviness beginning to pulse in her sinuses, and offers Lupe a tired smile. “We’re okay, if you want to … snrrfk! … start getting ready for your shower.”

Lupe squeezes her leg as she stands. “I’ll bring you something to drink in a minute. Try not to fall asleep, if you can help it.”

Charlotte nods as her eyelids flutter. When her breath shudders, Toby pulls her closer into their chest, tucking her face into their shirt.

“tschh’iuhhh! hihhh — tschhh’uhhh!” For the first time all night, she lets herself slump into Toby’s chest, even as her nose flushes hot and warm against the fabric of their shirt. Something about being held close makes it a little easier to tune out the anxious jabbering in the back of her head, to give in to the urge to nuzzle her nose against their shirt and try to nudge back the nebulous, all-over itch, though she can’t stop herself from murmuring a quiet, “Sorry.”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about it.” Toby rubs a hand over her back, the gesture sloppy with exhaustion. “You’re starti’g to get congested, bug.”

“Only a little.” Charlotte’s breath snags in a small, stinging cough. She presses her cheek to Toby’s chest, her ear right over their heart. Even through the congestion in their lungs, the beat comes through steady and strong. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Sniffling, she nudges her wrist under her nose, then has to muffle a set of “idtt’schhiuhh! hih’idtcshhiuhh!” sneezes in the cuff of her sleeve. Her breath rides out in a shivery sigh. “I really thingk I’m going to keep sneezing all night.”

“Probably so.” Toby nuzzles a kiss against her forehead. “Are you sure you can’t take anythi’g?”

“Other than Tylenol, no, not really.” Charlotte shoves her knuckle against the bridge of her nose. When she breathes in, her breath crackles a little, another telltale sign of swelling beginning to balloon in her sinuses. She sighs again. “I should probably sleep on the couch.”

“Ndo way.” Toby coughs, their face tucked over her shoulder, body shuddering against hers with the force of it. With their chest pressed up against hers, she can feel the rattle of their lungs, of the swelling and congestion clogging their airways, and a quiet pang echoes through her ribcage.

“Lupe was right, you know,” she murmurs, easing back to look at them as they catch their breath. “You really don’t sound good.”

“We’ll see how I sound tomborrow. It’s probably just from worki’g all day and walki’g through the sndow.” Toby clears their throat with a low, husky sound that makes them grimace a little. They knuckle their nose, then reach to run their fingers through Charlotte’s hair. “Anyway, unless I suddenly find a way to breathe through mby ndose in the ndext hour, I’ll either be awake or sndori’g bad enough to keep you up, so … stay here and keep mbe company.”

“Okay.” She sniffles, lifting a hand between them toward her face preemptively as tears prick the corners of her eyes. “Sorry the medicine’s not — hih’tschhihhh! tschh’ihhh! — not working better.”

“’S’okay.” They tuck a kiss against her shoulder. “Bless you. Are you sure you can’t take tomorrow off?”

“Probably ndot, but … I’ll thingk about it.” The sniffle she drags in is heavy, vibrating through her nasal cavity as it shifts the gunk in her head around. She lets her forehead fall forward against Toby’s shoulder, keeping her sleeve pressed beneath her septum. “Sorry I’m a little useless tonight.”

“You’re allowed to be useless.”

Charlotte fiddles with the hem of Toby’s shirt, wrapping it around her finger. “I just wanted to be, ah … a little more attentive to your needs.”

“Oh, baby, you were great. We couldn’t have mbanaged without you.” Toby hums a laugh into her shoulder. “No offense to Lupe, but she’s clueless. She has sausage fingers.”

Charlotte sniffles through a giggle. “She does not.”

“Well, she doesn’t know what to do without some guidance, is what I’m sayi’g.” Toby yawns. They tuck themself closer to her, arms coming around her to cradle her against them, legs intertwining with hers. There’s no real room to turn away to wipe her nose or sneeze, but right now, held so tightly in their embrace, maybe it’s not such a big deal. 

“Mby favorite thing,” they murmur, “is just kndowi’g you’re ndext to mbe.”

“Me too,” she whispers.

**

two years ago

Cumin, oregano, and a third, greener thing — possibly cilantro — color the air of Lupe’s apartment with a crackly tang.

She stands over the stove, stirring vegetables into a bed of rice. Spiced steam rises from the pan and glistens on her golden skin. “Do you want some moscato?” she asks, her deep brown eyes lifting to meet Charlotte’s. “I have a bottle in the fridge I can open.”

Charlotte twists her hands behind her back. “I don’t drink.”

“Oh, shit, right. I knew that.” Lupe drags the back of her wrist across her forehead, brushing back a wayward dark curl, and gives the vegetables and rice — some kind of traditional Puerto Rican dish Charlotte can’t remember the name of — another stir. The pan hisses. “Well, you’re welcome to help yourself to soda, or sparkling water, or grape juice, or anything else you can find. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just put some of everything in the fridge.”

Charlotte nods and clears her throat with a quiet, bitten-back sound. With the dull ache that’s been simmering there since this morning before work and the spiced steam flooding the kitchen, she’s been doing that a lot — just a little grunt exhaled behind her vocal cords, soft enough not to draw any attention. Theoretically, anyway.

She steps past Lupe and opens the fridge. Cool air wafts out, whispering goose bumps over her bare arms and legs. It plays along her septum and up into the edges of her nasal passages, where the nerves are already alight from Lupe’s cooking and whatever’s brewing in her head.

Before she can try to halt the inevitable, her lungs spasm with a clipped breath. She jams her fingers around her nose and shudders with one, two, three … seven sneezes silenced in the back of her throat as they nearly trip over one another in their rush to escape.

The drinks in front of her wobble back and forth as a pulse of dizziness washes over her. She swallows back the embers pressing up against her tonsils. Clears her throat. Repeats the process, then selects a Canada Dry with a trembling hand.

As she shuts the fridge, she muffles a sniffle behind her hand, a growing pit eating away at her stomach. She shouldn’t be here tonight — not in this tiny dress while the early March chill clings to everything it touches; not with this cold or flu slowly feathering its way around her throat and sinuses; not when, relatively speaking, they’ve only just met and there are still conversations to be had, boundaries to be negotiated and limits to be laid down.

Her nostrils tremble with another sniffle. She sets the can on the counter, her back toward Lupe, and cracks it open. Behind the itchy/scratchy feeling in her nose and throat and eyes, a generalized ache is beginning to set in, a sure sign that the adrenaline that kept her going through work is beginning to wear off. In all likelihood, she’ll be lucky to make it through the end of dinner before her nose starts running in earnest, or those irritating, incessant little fits of two or three sneezes at a time that always come with her colds start up.

As unserious as it is, it’s still terrible timing — the sort of symptoms she’d still be a little shy to exhibit in front of Toby, and they’ve known each other for three years. So to show up to a third date like this, too caught up in her head to explain her awkward quietness or why her nose keeps twitching … well, there are poor decisions, and then there’s whatever this is.

Then again, it’s not like she could have predicted how this was going to develop, at least not far enough in advance to cancel. An irritable nose is hardly unusual in March as the plants begin to reawaken after lying dormant all winter. It wasn’t until late this afternoon that the ache in her head kicked up and made this start to feel like more than just her immune system tantruming at the pollen.

Behind her, the stove turns off with a quiet click. “The chicken just has to finish roasting, and then we can eat,” Lupe says. Bare feet scuff along the tile, and a second later, her hands cup Charlotte’s hips. Her skin is warm through the thin material of Charlotte’s dress as she turns her around, her fingers trailing up her back as a smile nudges at the corner of her mouth. 

“Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey.” Charlotte swallows. A spasm shivers through her throat. She dips her head to the side, away from Lupe’s lips. She should say something — at least warn her not to be so close; she’s basically a walking biohazard at this point — but her tongue jams against the roof of her mouth.

Lupe rubs a hand over Charlotte’s arm. “Are you cold? You’re covered in goose bumps.”

“A little.” Charlotte’s nostrils flare of their own volition, a faintly damp sensation creeping around their rims. She inhales a quiet breath through her mouth. “I should have brought a sweater.”

“I can get you a blanket.” Lupe’s hand creeps up Charlotte’s spine toward her shoulder. Her teeth catch on her lip as one leg slots itself into the space between Charlotte’s thighs. Something a little husky wears away at her voice. “You know, we have a little bit before dinner, if you … want to go hang out on the couch and talk.”

Charlotte nudges at her glasses — a deeply unsexy, wire-framed pair she only ever opts for when her contacts start to make her eyes sting, the ones Toby calls her “grandma glasses” — and drops her gaze to Lupe’s leg. A flash of skin peeks out through a tear in her dark wash jeans, her whole thigh quivering a little with an undeniable neediness as it pushes up against Charlotte.

A distant ache unfurls somewhere in the recesses of Charlotte’s stomach, a flip-floppy kind of sensation it takes a second for her to place: Desire, wrapped in nervous anticipation. A lot like the tender ache that settles in her stomach any time she and Toby wind up kissing one another breathless on the couch or in each other’s laps in the bathtub or, very occasionally, naked in bed, but … less settled. There’s a flutter to it that momentarily snatches her breath.

Lupe reaches up with one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Charlotte’s ear. “You’re quiet tonight,” she murmurs. Her other hand cradles the small of Charlotte’s back. “Was work bad?”

“Not really.” Charlotte swallows and bites back a grimace. She reaches for the can of ginger ale and takes a sip. The carbonation fizzes through her mouth and bubbles up at the back of her nose, popping along her nerves. Her eyelids twitch. “It w-was just … snf! … just kind of tiring.”

“Yeah?” Lupe eases in closer. Her brown eyes, as deep and dark as black coffee in the gold light of the kitchen, linger on Charlotte’s lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Charlotte’s teeth grind into the side of her cheek, tears biting along the backs of her eyes. Pressed this close together, the scent of spices rises from Lupe’s skin — a gentle tang that, on any other day, would probably bring to mind delicious meals and a warm, cozy kitchen.

Tonight, it’s a hundred little pins pricking into the tender membranes of Charlotte’s nose and tearducts, inflicting torture on her already overwrought sinuses.

She lifts a finger as her eyelids drop to half mast, then twists in Lupe’s embrace, pinching her fingers tight around her nostrils.

“hk’tchih! tsh’iuh! tsh’iuh!-tch’iuhh!” For the first time all evening, she lets the sneezes out, each one stumbling out in a damp, infectious burst against her palm.

It’s an ill-fated decision — once she starts going like this, it’s unlikely she’ll be able to really catch much of a break for the rest of the evening. Still, with the dizziness that comes from holding them back, it’s a little bit of a “damned if you do, damned if you don’t” situation.

“Bless you!” Lupe laughs a little. “Sorry, I should have warned you I cook with a lot of spices.”

“No, it’s — tsh’iuh! tcsh’iuh! — it’s f-fine.” Tears burn in Charlotte’s eyes; behind her hand, her nostrils flare, widening in protest against the smell of Lupe’s food and the sickness beginning to swell her sinuses. She sniffles, the air scraping through her nose with a startlingly soggy sound and further aggravating her nerves. “It’s — tsch’ieww! ih’tshhiew! — bless me, sorry. Geez.”

“Bless you.” Lupe touches her elbow. “Why don’t we move to the living room, at least?”

Charlotte cups her hand closer to her face. Tears drip onto her cheeks as her eyelids force themselves shut. “Can I — I should wash my hands and get — ih’tshh! tshh’ihh! — get a tissue.”

“I’ve got tissues, and blankets.” Lupe squeezes her arm and nudges her forward. “Wash up in the sink — here. Put your hand out.”

Charlotte lifts her free hand (the other stays firmly in place as her nose twitches through another breath). The faucet comes on and, a second later, something drips into her palm. A vaguely floral scent teases her nose, the smell a little muted by the swelling in her sinuses.

Scrunching her nose, she angles her head to the side in a poor attempt to hide the dampness seeping from her nostrils as she scrubs soap over her fingers and up to her wrists. The sink glitters in front of her, broken into tiny fragments by the tired tears hanging in her eyes.

Lupe touches her back as she rinses the suds away. “I can open a window, if it would help,” she says.

A laugh sneaks up on Charlotte and makes another trickle of warm dampness creep along her septum. She lifts her dripping palm to hide her face again. “It’s freezi’g out.”

“Freezing is an overstatement.” Lupe rips one paper towel from a roll beside the sink, then a second. She waits for Charlotte to turn the sink off and dry her hands with the first before passing the next one to her. “I have actual tissues in the living room, but in the meantime — oh, honey, bless you —”

“gt’shhihh! ht’tchhihh! h’shiuhh!” Charlotte just barely catches the trio of sneezes in the paper towels, clamping them over her nose and mouth and keeping them there as her breath wavers between steadying and continuing to fall prey to her nervous system’s wanton reflexes. She lets herself crumble against the counter — there’s no use in trying to uphold a veneer of composure if her body’s going to so insistently tell on her — and blinks at Lupe. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Lupe’s mouth dips with a frown. “Are you okay? I feel bad —”

“Ndo, it’s ndot — snnf! — you shouldn’t.” Charlotte muffles another sniffle behind the paper towels. She watches goose bumps travel down her legs. “I thingk — I thingk I might be getting a cold, so it’s — it’s probably that, mostly.”

“Oh.” Lupe’s voice softens with something warmer. She trails a finger along Charlotte’s arm. “So that’s why you’ve been quiet.”

Charlotte clutches the paper towels closer as her breath wavers. “I mbeant — hih! — mbeant to tell you, or — I would have rescheduled, but I h-honestly wasn’t sure until tonight, and it was too late then t-to — tshh’ieww! ihh’shhihh! tschh’ihh!”

There’s an audible desperation to those sneezes as they scrape across her throat, tearing at the tender places around her vocal cords and tonsils. The paper towels block the flood that gushes from her nostrils, trapping the contagious mess just behind their edges.

“It’s okay.” Lupe’s hand shifts to rub a gentle circle over Charlotte’s back. “Do you feel really bad?”

“Ndo, ndo, I’m just … tired and itchy. I thought it was allergies mbost of the day.” She ducks to the side to give her nose a sharp blow, then edges out from under Lupe’s touch. Her mouth tugs down with a frown that’s meant to be apologetic, though the effect probably leans more toward pathetic with the way her nose continues to twitch. “Sorry, it’s just — we probably shouldn’t be too close.”

“Oh, let’s live on the edge,” Lupe says, though she leaves the distance between them as Charlotte tosses the paper towels in the trash can under the sink. She lets her back rest against the counter, her gaze flitting up to Charlotte’s face, then back down to the floor while Charlotte flicks on the faucet and pumps more soap onto her hands.

“Honestly, I sort of … well, I thought maybe we might, um … take things further tonight.” Lupe’s voice nearly gets lost under the water running from the sink, her tone low and uncharacteristically bashful. She hooks her fingers together in front of her. “That’s sort of cliche and probably kind of heteronormative, but I just … sort of had a feeling.” Her eyes flick up to meet Charlotte’s. “Not that I’m not still down for that, but I feel like you’re probably pretty exhausted.”

The back of Charlotte’s throat goes dry. She swallows and watches the suds bubble over her knuckles. “I … I would love to. Eventually.” She rinses the soap from her skin. “I just don’t really, ah — well, it’s not something I do very often.”

A grin sneaks into Lupe’s voice. She pokes Charlotte’s hip. “Are you keeping yourself pure for marriage?”

“Hardly.” Charlotte turns the sink off and rips another handful of paper towels from the roll. “It’s just … not something I’m really drawn to very often, if that makes s — hih! — sense?” She muffles a trio of “ht’shiuh! tsch’iuh!-tch’iuhh!” sneezes in the damp paper towels, then reemerges with a soupy inhale. Tears cast a glittery sheen over the kitchen and Lupe’s face as she braces a hand against the counter. “Guh … sorry, I was anticipati’g having this conversation without sneezing my head off at you.”

Lupe bites down on a smile. “You’re kind of cute like this. Your face is very pink.”

“hih’ishh! ishhh’ihh! ishh!” Charlotte gives her head a little shake, nudging her nose into the paper towels in a desperate attempt to get it to calm down. She wipes a tear away with the edge of her knuckle. “I’m a mbhehhhess.”

“Only a little.” Lupe chances a touch on Charlotte’s back, her fingers light but steadying. “I get it, though. I mean, it’s not — we have different needs in that area, I think, but that’s okay. There are other ways to connect, and they make vibrators for a reason.”

Heat flames up Charlotte’s neck and into her ears. She ducks behind her hands with a threadbare groan. “Oh, god.”

Lupe laughs. “I’m just teasing you.” She steps in closer, tugging at Charlotte’s waist to pull her back into an embrace. Her hand slips against Charlotte’s hip — comforting, not seeking anything more than to ground her as they talk.

With her other hand, she brushes Charlotte’s hair back from her face, her eyes flickering up to meet hers, then away as her voice dips low again. “I think I’m doing a terrible job of being reassuring, but what I’m trying to say is that it’s no big deal. As long as we talk about it, it works for me.”

Charlotte risks lowering the paper towels. Allows herself to relax into Lupe’s touch. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sex is great, but it’s not, like … the be-all, end-all of everything.” A smile, tender but a little teasing, tugs at Lupe’s lips. She gives Charlotte’s hip a soft pinch. “I’d like it if we could talk about other stuff, too, like when you think you’re getting a cold. I make excellent asopao de pollo. I would have cooked a big batch and brought that to your place instead of making you drag yourself over here when you weren’t feeling well.”

Charlotte ducks her head as that heat from a moment ago unfurls through her cheeks. “You really don’t have to do things like that.”

Lupe curves an arm around her waist, pulling her deeper into a hug. She tucks a kiss against Charlotte’s shoulder. “I want to, if you’ll let me.”

“Well — thank you.” Charlotte eases back a little as her nose scrunches through a sniffle. It needs to be blown again, and rubbed over and over until the skin around her nostrils starts to sting, neither of which are particularly date-friendly activities. 

She clears her throat, the sound just a whisper louder than it was earlier, and allows herself to press a knuckle against the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry about tonight. I should probably go home — I’m ndot really much fun right now, and I’d feel bad if I gave this to you.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not running out on my account.” Lupe gives the skirt of Charlotte’s dress a little tug. “As long as you’re up for it, you’re welcome to stay. I can’t eat all this food by myself.”

Charlotte sniffles again. “I’m … I mbean, yeah, I’m — I’d like to spend time with you.”

“Good. Then you’re sitting your ass down on the couch and letting me bring you food and tea until you fall asleep.” Lupe pecks a kiss against her forehead, her lips light but warm enough to silence any protests. “And don’t worry about me. A cold won’t kill me.”

**

She can’t sleep.

Charlotte blinks up at the shadows clouding the ceiling, her breath a little fitful as congestion shifts through her sinuses. The spaces between this evening and now are a blur, a repeated cycle of finally managing to doze off only to be woken by the burning buzz in her nose, over and over. It must have happened a dozen times by now at least.

“hih … ngkt!” She swallows the sneeze back, confining it to the lower recesses of her throat, where it licks at her tender, swollen flesh like a flame but stays quiet enough not to disturb her partners. Not that it likely makes a difference — on the opposite side of the bed, Toby’s breath comes in heavy, rumbly snores, loud enough that at some point, Lupe — curled up between the two of them — put earplugs in to dampen the sound.

“ngktt! hgkt!-gktt!” Charlotte stifles a trio of sneezes against her sleeve, and a shiver ripples through her. Beneath the blankets, her skin buzzes with a weird, too-awake feeling, almost as if Lupe accidentally gave her caffeinated tea before bed. Only that’s not it — not jitteriness, exactly, but something else. A combination of the directionless aches that always settle into her bones at night when she’s under the weather; the inflammation in her sinuses, so tingly and insistent it nips at her consciousness and rouses her from every fitful dream; and, beneath it all, untended arousal.

She bites the inside of her cheek as she squeezes her thighs together. A little jolt bursts through her stomach and up her spine, a tiny, electric pulse. It laps at the ends of her frayed nerves, and for a breath of a second, the generalized pains go quiet.

Heat whispers along the back of her throat and winds her muscles tight with an anticipatory, wanting ache. It’s ridiculous — it’s the middle of the night, her heart is already ping ponging in her chest, and the stuffiness in her nose makes the fatigue coating her body and brain feel ten times heavier than it did this evening — but the allure of relief, of sleep, beckons to her. And with any medicine stronger than Tylenol out of the cards … perhaps a burst of endorphins would calm things down. Just enough to let her fall back asleep for the rest of the night.

Chest stuttering a little, she rolls onto her side and slides the nightstand drawer open. Her fingers, a little clumsy with exhaustion, fumble for a moment, groping in the darkness before closing around the smooth silicone handle of the pink mini wand vibrator Toby and Lupe bought her for Valentine’s Day last year.

Another little kick fires off in her stomach.

Generally, this would be the sort of thing she’d take care of in the privacy of the bedroom while Lupe and Charlotte were occupied in the living room, or sometimes by herself in the bathtub — somewhere with a door she could shut. Not that they didn’t know what was happening — it was never a secret, never something that needed to be — but … well, it was just a little awkward to think of them accidentally walking in on her in such a vulnerable state.

But with the two of them asleep in bed, and her erratic heart rate making a hot bath out of the question … the couch will have to do.

Vibrator in one hand, Charlotte eases herself up to sit. Darkness clouds the room, though there’s still a watery shimmer to everything as her heart knocks against her eardrums for one, two, three, four seconds. She sucks in a quiet breath through her mouth.

The congestion that’s gradually settled in overnight shifts as she stands, needling at the back of her eyes and her cheekbones and casting a sheen of tears over the already murky room. For a moment, Charlotte leaves one hand on the mattress, holding herself steady. Her nostrils tremble.

“ggkkt! hk’ggt! ggkt’chiew!” She dips toward her chest with each sneeze, the tail end of the last one coming out whisper soft. Still, they make the air ring through her ears and leave a startlingly thick trail of moisture seeping along her septum.

With a shivery breath, she dabs her sleeve along her nose. Slowly, the ringing fades. The ground beneath her feet settles.

This late at night, the apartment is still, a collection of shadows smudged over one another, blurring any defining features of their home. Charlotte shuffles out to the living room, one hand holding the handle of the vibrator, the other feeling along the wall to avoid running into a misplaced shoe or any other foreign objects that may have found their way into her path. Fatigue pulls on her muscles with invisible strings, begging her to lie down again, but beneath it, that crackle of warmth and want sizzles. It seems like a contradiction when everything yearns for rest, but is it, really? It’s a basal need — biologically, not so very different from hunger or the need for sleep.

In the living room, moonlight falls through the window and pools on the floor in a silvery puddle, coloring the room in soft shades of lilac and gray. Outside, the wind whistles, and one of the oak trees taps the glass with its bare branches.

Shivering a little, Charlotte squirms out of her pajama pants but leaves her underwear on. The apartment’s stagnant air kisses her legs and covers them in goose bumps, drawing out another long, sharp shiver, hard enough her breath gives an audible shudder. 

Standing here half naked, that desire blooms through her, the warmth in her stomach coiling tighter and tighter, her whole body tickling with a soft blush. Her skin tingles, nerves oversensitive and needy, an itch desperate to be scratched — not just from tonight, but one that’s built up over the past week of caring for her partners, of watching them sniffle and sneeze and bury their fever-warm faces in her chest without any release. After all that, she’s wound tight, breath already a little ragged, body tense with anticipation. If she simply ran a single finger over herself, she could come undone in seconds.

“What are you doing up?”

Charlotte startles, stumbling a little as she jerks around toward the hallway. Lupe stands in the entryway, arms hugged around her waist. In the faint light, her hair stands up on one side of her head, the other side smashed flat from the pillows.

Charlotte’s face flames. Nonsensically, she holds the vibrator behind her back. “Sorry.” Her voice, the edges blunted by congestion, comes out embarrassingly breathless. “I didn’t mbean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay … I wasn’t really sleeping anyway. Toby’s like a chainsaw in my ear.” Lupe pads toward her, a sleepy smile curving the side of her mouth. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to sleep on the couch.”

Charlotte swallows. The vibrator burns in her hand, as if she’s a teenager again back home, caught sneaking out the window to smoke with her friends. Which is a little ridiculous, but then again, so is this whole situation. “I’mb … ndot.”

Lupe’s brow furrows. “Are you feeling worse? You could have woken me up. Or, woken me up intentionally, I mean.”

Charlotte shakes her head, although the tickle that flares in her nose and snags in her breath is probably not convincing. She ducks into her shoulder. “hdtt’chishhihh! tschhh’ihhiuhhh! hih … hih’itschhiuhh!”

It’s the first time she hasn’t pinched the sneezes back in hours, and they burst out breathless and desperately itchy, tugging at the muscles in her ribcage as moisture surges onto her upper lip. She jerks her hand up, sleeve tucked over her fingers, and paws at her face to clear the mess.

“Aw, honey, bless you. Where are your tissues?” Lupe’s voice is honey warm, sweet with sleepiness and care, and the fluttery heat in Charlotte’s stomach kicks up against her diaphragm. Lupe reaches to cup her cheek. “Have you been up long? You feel kind of warm.”

“Ndot … snrrrfk! Ndot long.” Charlotte bites her lip for a moment. Then, a laugh, low and a little raspy, bubbles up from her chest. She cups one hand over her face, the vibrator still held in her other and tucked behind her back. “It’s, um … it’s ndot a fever, Lu.”

Lupe’s mouth lifts with a slightly bewildered smile. She reaches for the mostly empty box of tissues on the coffee table and rips out a handful. “Okay … I don’t get it.”

“I — god, this is embarrassi’g.” Charlotte plops down on the couch. She holds up the vibrator, her gaze on her naked knees. “I thought mbaybe — well, I couldn’t sleep, and I figured this mbight … snrrfk! … you kndow. Help things settle?”

“Oh.” Lupe blinks at the vibrator for a minute, then giggles. “Oh. Well, that’s probably not a good idea if your heart’s been racing.”

Charlotte shrugs with a heavy sniffle. “Ndot getti’g any sleep is just as bad, so … snrrfk! … it’s sort of a lose-lose situation.”

“I guess that’s true.” Lupe passes her the tissues. She twists her fingers together at her waist, then folds them behind her back. “Do you — should I stay, or do you want me to go back to bed? I kind of figured I’d offer to keep you company out here, but I don’t want to intrude.”

“atschh’ihhh! huh’atschhhihhh!” Charlotte catches the set of sneezes in the tissues; there’s a quiet desperation to them, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of thing — just a slight breathlessness on the inhale of each one, a whispery whine on the exhale. Still, it’s enough to make her legs tremble a little as she lingers behind the tissues until her breathing settles, until she has a second to wipe away the dampness seeping along her upper lip. She blinks teary eyes up at Lupe. “I’mb sort of a mbess.”

“Well, you know that doesn’t bother me.” Lupe reaches out a tentative hand, and when Charlotte doesn’t pull back, trails her fingers through her hair. She touches her jaw, her voice dropping low and gentle. “If you want, I could hold you while you take care of things. But only if that would be nice. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Charlotte sniffles. Just twelve hours ago, the answer would have been a hard no, but Lupe spent the evening snuggling her and Toby, then slept between them for the past several hours, caught in the cloud of cold the two of them exhaled in their sleep. At this point, trying to get her to keep any distance is probably futile, and ultimately pointless — the damage has already been done.

And maybe more than that, more than the part of Charlotte’s brain that can argue with itself in circles about how risky the situation is or isn’t, there’s something softer that trembles in her chest — a wanting, yes, but not the sizzling heat just below her skin. Something a little more tender. More vulnerable. 

“That wouldn’t be weird for you?” she asks.

“Of course not.” Lupe sits beside her, turning so her back is against the arm of the couch. She presses her feet together and lets her legs collapse open like a butterfly’s wings, creating a spot for Charlotte to curl up, and motions at her chest. “Come here … lie back against me and try to relax.”

Charlotte’s lungs shiver like they can’t quite get a full breath in as she scoots up against Lupe, her ass pressing into the warm space between Lupe’s legs, shoulders against her chest and head resting on her shoulder. She draws her legs halfway up toward her chest, one hand clutching the tissues loosely at her waist, the other draped across her thigh, vibrator nestled over her underwear.

Lupe tucks a kiss against her temple and rubs a thumb down the length of her neck, Charlotte’s skin crackling in its wake. She tsks. “Your muscles are all wound up.”

Charlotte’s knees wobble. She shivers. “A — a little.”

Lupe tugs a throw blanket off the back of the couch and tucks it over Charlotte. As Charlotte sniffles, she lifts the edge of the blanket to swipe against her nostrils.

Charlotte flinches, pulling back to look at her. “Lupe —”

“It’s okay. I’ll wash it in the morning.” Lupe taps Charlotte’s wrist. “You just worry about yourself, and I’ll help keep you comfortable, okay? I’ve got you.”

Charlotte swallows through the dryness in her throat. In the faint light of the moon, she blinks at Lupe. Everything about this is so oddly vulnerable in ways it probably shouldn’t be. Though not a regular occurrence, Lupe’s seen her naked, touched her most intimate places; she’s cared for her through far more serious illnesses than a head cold — helped pick her up off the floor when she’s passed out, hand fed her salty crackers like a baby bird when her blood pressure has unexpectedly plummeted, yelled at nurses until they brought her more pain meds after surgery, sat with her in the hospital as she waited for test results to come back with a saline drip nestled in the crook of her arm. And yet … something about this feels terribly fragile. Like she’s set the most delicate parts of herself in Lupe’s palm and is trusting her not to break them.

She clears her throat, but her voice still comes out low and hoarse. “If you could just … just talk to me. If you don’t mbind. But mbaybe don’t — don’t touch? I mbean — snrrrfk! — you can rub my back, but just don’t, like …”

“Don’t get frisky?”

Charlotte laughs. The tension splinters. “That’s ndot the word I was goi’g to use, but … yeah.”

Under the blanket, Lupe wraps her arms around Charlotte’s waist. She tucks her cheek against Charlotte’s. “Of course, mi amor. I can do that.”

Charlotte nods. With a deep breath through her mouth, she clicks the vibrator on, running it at the lowest speed, its head buzzing aimlessly over her underwear. Its touch is barely there, just kissing her skin through her underwear, but it sends a jolt through her breath anyway. As the vibrations echo through her body, they coax out a blush between her legs.

A sigh trembles from her lungs. She shifts against Lupe, legs tensing as she guides the vibrator lower. Beneath the thin layer of her underwear, her clit swells into a bud, and her cunt flushes hot and wet with need.

Charlotte shivers. A reedy moan gasps across her throat and snags in a ticklish cough.

Lupe lets one hand trail away from her stomach to rub over Charlotte’s arm. “Y’okay?” she murmurs, her voice low.

“Y-yes.” Dampness, warm and tingly, trickles along the inside of Charlotte’s septum, jarred by the cough. She gives her head a little shake, breath erratic and pitchy as the itch fizzles through her sinuses and the vibrator pulses between her legs.

“huh’ngttch!” She bites back the sneeze, head pulsing with the effort. A whine slips out as her legs shudder and warm moisture trickles onto her upper lip. “huhh — hih’ngktch!”

“Oh, no, honey, don’t hold back like that,” Lupe says. “You’ll just be more frustrated.”

“I — snrrfk! Huhhh!” Her breath stutters in her chest. The mess on her upper lip trembles as it collects in her cupid’s bow, tempting the nerves in her septum and nasal passages to fire again. “I really — snrrrkk! — really sh-should …”

“I told you — I’ve got you.” Lupe nudges the edge of the blanket against her nostrils, the soft fabric kissing her sensitive skin and soaking up the viscous liquid. “Just go ahead and let yourself sneeze — I know you need to.”

There’s little time to debate about it — the itch is already flaring again, tugging at the backs of her eyes. With a jagged inhale, Charlotte ducks back into the blanket. 

“etschh’ieww! hihh-hihh-hihh-hihhhhh … hih’ischhieww!” She jerks with each sneeze, letting them out freely this time, then collapses back against Lupe. Around her, the room spins, but in that lovely way it would when she used to drink and would get tipsy with her friends, or how it does when you laugh too hard for too long. 

Her clit throbs, heavy and hot as she swirls the vibrator over it. It’s so wrong, making a mess of herself like this, but oh, it feels so good to have permission — the way the sneezes tear through her, each one momentarily scratching that persistent itch in the back of her sinuses and leaving her breathless and dripping, nose so needy to be tended to. Is this how Lupe felt a week ago in the hotel room, when Charlotte fussed at her as she fought fit after fit of sneezes and blushed through every nose blow?

Lupe wipes her nose with the blanket, then squeezes her shoulder. “Bless you, mi amor.”

“Th-thangk you,” Charlotte gasps. She shivers through another moan, then cranes her neck to look back at Lupe. “Am I — am I bei’g too loud?”

Lupe laughs. “No, honey. You’re fine. Just enjoy yourself.”

Charlotte settles back against her shoulder, then clicks the vibrator up another two notches. Her head rocks against Lupe, tears stinging in the corners of her eyes, the electricity buzzing through hundreds of nerves and synapses nearly too much to bear. It should be humiliating to come undone so easily — to be reduced to a moaning, shaking, sniffling mess in seconds. But something about the warmth of Lupe’s touch, the tenderness with which she holds her, just feels so safe. Like it wouldn’t matter how much Charlotte squirmed or bleated or cried — it would all be okay, and more than that, understood.

Even if she does have to sneeze a dozen times before she finishes.

“huhhhhh! huh’ishhhh! ishhh’iewww!” Charlotte curls sideways, her legs clamping around the vibrator as she sneezes half toward the blanket, half against the back of the couch. Her breath rides out in a jagged gasp before immediately snagging again, the itch somehow even more relentless than earlier this evening, like it’s trapped in the swollen walls of her sinuses, like her body craves the sweet release of trying to be rid of it. “ih’tshhhiewww! hihhh … hih’tschhhiewww!”

“Oh, bless you.” Lupe rubs her back, shifting the blanket to cover her against the chill of the room. “You’re so tickly, aren’t you?”

Charlotte groans. 

Warm, wet misery drips down her upper lip, a conduit for that constant itch to zip through. It feathers along her septum and reaches all the way through her nose toward the backs of her eyes as she burrows into the blanket to mop at her face. “I’b … snrrrfk! hihhh … hih’tschhh!-tschhh’ihhh! Ohhhhhhh … I’b a mbess.”

“Well, you’re doing so, so well.” Lupe’s hand pauses its soothing motions on Charlotte’s back. “Is that okay?” she asks, her voice a little timid. “I mean, I know you like that when it’s us — er, when we’re having sex-sex, but … sorry. I haven’t done this before.”

Charlotte shivers through a breathless laugh. More fluid trickles around her septum. She scrubs her face into the blanket. “Yeah, I — snrfkk! — I  like it.”

“Oh, okay.” Lupe gives a laugh, the edges of it a little frayed with nerves. Her hand resumes rubbing circles over Charlotte’s back. “You’re doing great, especially with a cold.”

Charlotte sniffles with a tragically wet sound and relaxes her thighs around the vibrator. She strokes its head against her clit and shudders, lightning riding up her spine and shattering her breath. “Oh, I …  ohhhhh.”

Lupe giggles, the sound more comfortable than a second ago. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“So good,” Charlotte whispers. Tears catch on her eyelashes as sweat and arousal drip between her legs. Her heartbeat drums in her ears, but there’s a rightness to it — of course it’s loud, of course it’s fast; in this moment, why wouldn’t it be?

Under the blanket, with the vibrator drawing lazy circles over her clit, she tucks her other hand under her shirt. Her fingers skim over her stomach, just as light as when she showed Lupe how to touch Toby’s nose — just barely touching herself, whispering across her skin, fingertips kissing the soft rolls in her stomach, the happy trail at her belly button, the curve of her breasts. When they settle at her left nipple, her shoulders buck against Lupe.

“Easy,” Lupe laughs, cupping her hands against Charlotte’s arms.

“I’m — ohhhhhh, god.” She’s panting, nearly drooling with need, overtired and overstimulated with cold and want, everything pleading for release in every sense of the word.

She skims the vibrator lower, trailing across the length of her now soaked underwear, letting it buzz softly against her cunt a moment to give her overwrought nerves a moment to breathe without letting the high fade.

Lupe brushes her hair back from her face as she gasps for air. “You’re doing so well, baby girl,” she murmurs. “But maybe don’t push yourself.”

Charlotte shakes her head, her nose scrunching through a sniffle. “I’m ndot. I — itschhiuhhh! huhh — huh’itschhhiuhhhh!” She half catches the sneezes against the blankets, half lets them spray against the back of the couch. It’s a catastrophe — twin rivulets of mucus dribble from both nostrils, warm and stinging down to her chin, and if the lights were on, they’d probably show a cloud of droplets, tiny as dust motes, caught in the air.

But Lupe doesn’t flinch, doesn’t balk as she cups the blanket over Charlotte’s nose and wipes up the mess streaming down her face. “Bless you, bug,” she murmurs.

“Thangk you.” Charlotte sniffles. Her shoulders and legs shiver as she inhales, her sinuses squeaking with the effort it takes to drag in a breath. “I’b okay.”

“You sure sound like it.” Lupe gives her side a gentle poke. “I’m just saying you’re obviously exhausted, so … I don’t know. Be careful.”

Charlotte nods through another sniffle. “I’ll be done in a second,” she murmurs. “Just — I’mb almost there.”

With her breath still coming in ragged little jags, she moves the vibrator back up toward her clit — not directly on top of it, but to the skin just above it, allowing the vibrations to rumble through it without direct stimulation.

Still, it’s like a lightning bolt — her legs jerk, and her back arches against Lupe. She lets out a long, heavy groan. “Ohhhhhh — oh mby god. snrrfk! Ohhh, I — I’b really almost there.”

Lupe lets out a low laugh. “Good girl,” she murmurs. “Just take it easy, okay? You can relax … you’re tense everywhere again.”

Charlotte doesn’t relax, though — how can she, when everything is so wound up, like a volcano that’s been simmering for days and can no longer hold back? She buries her face in the back of the couch, her thighs crushing the vibrator in place, fingers squeezing her nipple into a bud. A magnificent chill rushes through her, sparking from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

She pants, gasping in mouthfuls of musty air filtered through the couch cushion. Heat gathers in her stomach like a summer storm cloud, building higher and higher, climbing up against her diaphragm and shoving at her lungs.

Something pricks in her nose.

“Itschhhihh!-tshh’ih!-tsch’hhih!-tsch’hhiuh!” The sneezes tumble out one after the other, whimpered expulsions of air and snot muffled into the cushion. They burn in the back of her sinuses, distinctly ticklier than a moment ago, as if something in the cushion has set off her nose all over again.

The storm cloud blooms higher and fills her chest. As watery warmth drips from her nose and soaks into the rough fabric, she eases the vibrator closer to her clit.

“TSCHHH’uehhh!” The sneeze explodes out of her with an almost indignant sound, as if her body is startled by its own reflexes. Her breath collapses and rebuilds itself, mingling with a moan as her legs shake. Her heart beats in her stomach, behind the vibrator, through her arms — everywhere as her nostrils flare wide. She drags her thumb over her nipple as her chest shudders again. “ht’TSCHHHuehhh! hgkt’TSCHHHuehhh!”

“Dios mío, bless you, mi amor,” Lupe coos. “Oh my goodness.”

With a breathless whine, Charlotte gives the vibrator a final click. She shoves it down hard on her clit, and everything flashes white. With a heartbeat of its own, her clit pulses, one-two-three-four-one-two-three-four-one-two-three-four-one-two-three-four, and her throat clamps down on her breath. A strangled cry gets muffled into the cushion as sweet, wet heat floods between her thighs and her legs spasm, kicking out to the side.

Lupe’s hand rubs over her back as she quivers through the aftershocks, the vibrator drooping against her thigh as it continues to buzz, held lax in her limp hand. “You did so good,” she murmurs. “Such a good job when you’re feeling so sick.”

Charlotte pants into the couch for another second as the endorphins surge through her. They coat all the sensitive parts of her like a salve, glossing the world in a gentle, sleepy haze. Her cold still weighs heavily in her head, still bristles through her sinuses, but it’s more distant. Less caught in that part of her brain that likes to spin things in circles over and over and over and over again.

She sniffles, then shivers through a breathless, “tschh’iuhhh!-tschh’iuehhh!” set of sneezes. Nose dripping, she lifts her head from the couch. The aftermath of the past few minutes coats her skin, dripping down her upper lip and sticking in her underwear.

She clicks off the vibrator and lets out a hoarse groan. “Ohh … I’b a mbess, Lu.”

“You’re exhausted, love.” Lupe takes the vibrator and sets it on the floor. She wipes the blanket under Charlotte’s nose, her touch delicate. A smile plays along the corner of her lips. “And you need a tissue.”

Charlotte groans again. “I snd-hiihhh!-sndeezed all over the c-couch — hih’tschhh!-tschhuhh!-tschhiewww!”

“Bless you!” Lupe swipes at her nose before it can begin to run again. “Something else is getting to you, isn’t it?”

A low cough scrapes at Charlotte’s throat. “I shouldn’t have shoved mby face in the couch.”

“Or we should get in the habit of cleaning it more often.”

Charlotte frowns through a sniffle. “Well, we’re definitely goi’g to ndeed to ndow.”

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow.” Lupe tucks Charlotte’s hair back from her face. “Other than being sneezy, how do you feel? Any better?”

“Yeah … really tired.” Charlotte sniffles; the congestion, unfortunately, has been left unimproved by the happy chemicals washing through her. “Stuffy, but … I thingk I could sleep.”

“Good.” Lupe shifts her arms a little to cradle Charlotte closer, tucking Charlotte’s head against her shoulder. “Do you want to go back to bed or stay here, once you get cleaned up? Toby’s pretty noisy.”

“I mbight stay here, if that’s okay.” Charlotte nudges her nose against the back of her wrist. She rests her cheek against Lupe’s chest, where she can’t look her in the eye. “Was that … was what we just did okay with you?”

“It was more than okay.” Lupe tucks a kiss against her forehead. “I mean, I felt like I wasn’t sure what to say, or whether or not you’d like me to touch you or give you more space, but … now I know for next time.”

“Ishhh’iuhhh!-ishhhiuhhh!-tschhh’iuhhh!” Charlotte ducks down into the blanket to catch the sneezes. She clutches the plush fabric to her septum as everything that’s built up in her head over the course of the day continues to gush out. “Guh … sorry.”

“There’s no need to be,” Lupe murmurs, kissing her again. “You can let yourself relax, honey.”

“I kndow. I’m trying.” Charlotte gives her nose a firm swipe with the blanket, then lets out a quiet breath and snuggles closer to Lupe. “I liked it. Everythi’g you said.”

“Oh. Good.” Lupe traces her thumb over Charlotte’s cheekbone, the swollen membranes giving a soft pulse under her touch. “And like I said … now we know for next time, so … if that’s something you want to do more often — I mean, if you’d like company … you can always ask.”

Charlotte blinks up at her. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

Charlotte bites the inside of her cheek. She tucks her knees closer to her chest. “Thanks, Lu.”

For this — for being there. For not thinking I’m weird. For never thinking I’m weird. For loving me as I am.

“Thank you.” Lupe slips her fingers into Charlotte’s on top of the blankets. “It felt very vulnerable, so I — well, I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

Charlotte nods and watches their fingers fold together in the soft light of the moon. They shouldn’t be touching like this — god knows what awful things lurk on her hand after getting herself off and sneezing herself silly. 

But she takes a deep breath and lets it be.

She sniffles and glances up at Lupe. “Are you going back to bed? I mbean, I’mb just goi’g to try to sleep, and I’ll probably sndore, so …”

Lupe shrugs. “I was going to help you clean up, and then … I can stay, if you want.” A tired, fond smile plays along her lips as the sound of Toby’s snores comes from the bedroom. “I don’t think I’m sleeping either way.”

Charlotte stifles back a trio of “ngkt’sh!-nkkt’sh!-gkkt’shh!” sneezes and gives her head a little shake. The moonlight ripples over the floor, slippery, like it’s reflecting off the surface of an ocean’s waves. The whole room feels a little unsteady as she sniffles, tilted sideways with fatigue. 

She rubs her sleeve against her nose, muscles ragged beneath her skin, like she might collapse into a puddle if Lupe weren’t holding her up — every part of her utterly worn out as this cold fully settles in. If she had a mirror, she’d probably see big, watery eyes and a runny nose looking back at her, the same ones her partners wore over the past week that were her undoing. 

“Stay,” she whispers.

Lupe bites down on a smile. She slips her arms back around Charlotte’s waist and tucks her face against her shoulder, her lips skimming against the tender skin of her neck. Her kiss is chaste — just a kiss, nothing more, not seeking anything but to offer the gentle reassurance of her presence.

She could just see Moxxie over Striker’s shoulder and he looked surprised as well. But he recovered first, pressing up against Striker’s back as his breath hitched again.

This time Striker tried his best to muffle the sneeze into his elbow, carefully aimed away from both his lovers. “Hhh’MMMPHsshh…hh’RRRsshmph… fucking hell. Sorry about that, Millie,” he growled out his apology, embarrassment coloring his usual smarmy tone. 

He made a smooth recovery, trying to brush off his sneezes. “But maybe the three of us could take this to the shower.”

Moxxie met her gaze with a question in his eyes: do they let Striker move things to the shower and wash off the perfume…or admit Millie’s kink and see if Striker was game to let her perfume keep bothering him. Millie licked her lips and then her expression went determined.

She gripped Striker by the jaw, meeting his eyes, and he looked uncertain, tail shifting behind him. Moxxie brushed his own tail down Striker’s and gave his bicep a soothing squeeze.

“And what if I don’t want to wash off my perfume?” she proposed calmly. 

His tail flicked, rattling defensively, even as his expression turned into a charming mask. “You asking me to leave?” he asked with a raised brow.

Moxxie chimed in, “We want you to stay, Striker. Just asking if you’d play a new game with us.”

Striker’s eyes flicked between them, shoulders relaxing as he read only welcome in their body language. He sniffled and licked over his lower lip, expression shifting into curiosity. 

“And what game is that, little one?” he teased Moxxie with the nickname. Moxxie glared, which only made Striker smirk wider, but the smaller imp merely flicked him with his tail in chastisement. Millie tapped Striker's jaw, pulling his attention back to her.

“I like other people’s sneezing. So if you don’t mind my new perfume, maybe you’d indulge me, Cowboy?” she asked running a hand down Striker’s chest. 

His eyes went wide with surprise for a moment before he let out a gravelly laugh. “You kinky motherfuckers,” he huffed, fond and amused. His tail wrapped around Moxxie’s playfully and he pulled Millie’s hand from his jaw to press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Alright, I’m game to get a little sneezy for ya, darlin’,” he said with a wicked grin that had Millie’s tail curling with want.

Moxxie grinned at Milllie over Striker’s shoulder, delighted to see her looking like Sinsmas come early. “Then why don’t we all get a little more comfortable,” Moxxie purred into Striker’s ear as he shifted his tail to drag teasingly along the taller imp’s thighs.

Millie pressed closer to Striker arching her perfume scented throat alluringly. “Yeah, baby, let’s get rid of some of these layers.” She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and Moxxie seamlessly took over tugging it down off Striker’s arms. 

As soon as his arms were free Striker wrapped an arm around Millie’s waist and dipped down to nuzzle at her throat. He took a deep sniff, tail twitching as his nose wrinkled. He pulled back slightly as he took a shaky breath in. “Hehhh…Hh’hh…” Millie watched entranced as Striker’s nostrils flared with each hitching inhale. “F-fuck..it itches hhh…”

Striker tried to pull back and turn his head away from Millie but she reached up and grabbed one horn keeping him in place. 

Striker tried to warn her on instinct. “I’m gonna…hh…Heh’ESSHHHuhh…hh’hh’ERSSHHHuhh…”

Millie tossed her head back with a moan, rolling her body against Striker’s. Striker rubbed at the quivering tip of his nose. “Pardon,” he murmured before grinning as he took in Millie’s hungry expression. “You really do like this, don’t ya, darlin’?”

“Mhm, so much,” she assured him. She tugged him down by the horn still in her hand and kissed him deep and slow. Her tail danced over Striker’s hip to trail over Moxxie’s chest and wrap around his thigh.

Moxxie nipped at Striker’s shoulder and then reached around Striker’s waist to undo his belt buckle and remove his gun holsters. He tossed them onto the floor and then started undoing the button of his pants. 

Millie could feel Moxxie’s clever hands between them and pulled back with a low hum of satsifaction. She finally released Striker’s horn, but he didn’t pull back, just tugged her shirt from her waistband and then popped the button on her pants. Then she started on Striker’s button down shirt with a nip at the underside of his throat.

“Well aren’t you two eager to get me naked tonight,” Striker teased. Moxxie palmed his 

half-hard cock in response and Striker let out a low rumble of pleasure as Moxxie squeezed lightly. 

“You saying we aren’t usually eager to get you out of your clothes, honey?” Millie purred, teasing back as she paused in unbottoning his shirt to palm Striker’s chest and pinch his nipples into peaks. Striker was stopped from making a witty rejoinder by the tickle in his nose flaring back up, and he wrinkled his nose in irritation, expression shifting into a sneezy grimace.

Millie purred and drew him into a kiss with her arms around his neck. He made a noise of surprise against her lips, torn between the urge to sneeze and the desire to return her enthusiasm. But he finally pulled away with a shaky inhale. “Huhhhh’ERRSSHHHuhh…snfff” His upper body jerked forward as he misted the air with a fierce sneeze. When he looked back at Millie, she could see his eyes were watery and his nose was flushed. She licked her lips and finished unzipping her pants to drop them to the floor. 

She grinned when both boys gave her their undivided attention, Moxxie coming around Striker to stand beside him. She pulled her shirt and bra over her head in one smooth practiced move and sauntered towards the bed until she was leaning on the nearest bed post with her hip cocked and tail slowly shifting back and forth behind her alluringly. Then, she tugged her panties teasingly down her thighs and let them fall to the floor. “You boys are seeming mighty overdressed,” she purred.

Moxxie started to quickly undo the buttons on his vest but Striker stripped off his shirt and then came around behind Moxxie so they were both facing Millie. Striker tugged Moxxie’s hands away and took over much more slowly. “Now, there’s no need to rush a good thing. The lady deserves a show, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he rumbled right against Moxxie’s ear.

Moxxie flushed and shivered with a quiet sigh of pleasure, leaning back against Striker’s chest and letting him take the lead. Striker leaned down and nibbled along Moxxie’s neck as he trailed his claws down each bit of revealed flesh underneath his layers. Moxxie stared at Millie through his lashes and saw her palming one breast as she caressed the other hand down her happy trail. Moxxie whimpered and Millie grinned wickedly. Then Striker bit down on his throat and Moxxie’s head fell back with a moan. 

Millie could only stay away from a sight like that for so long before she closed the distance between them, kissing Moxxie soundly as Striker tugged Moxxie’s sleeves down to bunch around his wrists. Moxxie’s tail twitched and curled with desire as Striker laved his neck with tongue and teeth, and Millie kissed him stupid. Then Millie began trailing kisses down his chest as she tugged down his pants.

Striker kept one hand on the bunch of Moxxie’s shirt and jacket, keeping him bound, and with the other he tilted Moxxie’s head up to kiss him hungrily. Striker left his hand cradling Moxxie's delicate throat holding him close as they shared breaths between nips and licked into each other’s mouths. Millie finished drawing Moxxie’s pants to the floor and she knelt up to pet over his hard cock as she watched the two men make out.

Moxxie moaned around Striker’s tongue when Millie stroked a sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Striker gave Moxxie's throat a squeeze that had him shuddering with a soft whine of desire. Striker smirked, “You like that, little one? Need me to…tuh…” Striker's expression twisted with irritation as his nostrils flared. 

He shook his head like he could shake off the itch, but his breath caught. “Pardon…huhh..” He turned his head away from Moxxie in preparation as his nostrils flared into wide twitchy circles, “gonnauh-Huh’ERRRSSHHuh!....huh’HUH-EIRRSSHHHooo…SNF!...damn. ‘Scuse me, Mox,” he huffed, embarrassed by the interruption. 

“Gesundheit, Striker,” Moxxie said sounding unaccountably pleased. 

He turned back and found Moxxie looking down at Millie and looking just as pleased as he sounded. He curiously followed his gaze and barked a laugh of amusement. Millie's pupils were so blown out she looked like she'd been drugged. “You like how allergic I am, darlin’?” he asked as he stroked Moxxie's throat absentmindedly. 

“Uh-huh,” Millie answered, sounding dazed. One of Moxxie's hands settled lightly in her hair while his other gripped at Striker's thigh, claws digging in a little just the way he liked. 

“Should I tell you about my allergies while you take care of our sweet boy here?” he purred, nuzzling Moxxie's cheek and rolling his hips against Moxxies ass from behind. Moxxie gave a pleased hum as his tail wrapped around Striker's thigh, tugging him more firmly against him until they were pressed together shoulder to hip, the only thing separating them the fabric of Striker's underwear. The material did nothing to hide how hard he was.

Millie let out a whimper at his offer, “Oh, fuck. Please, Striker…” 

“You don’t mind, do you, Mox?” he asked with smirk, more to tease Millie than out of any doubt in Moxxie’s desire to indulge his wife. His allergies certainly hadn't softened Moxxie's cock any. 

He expected Moxxie to join him in teasing a little more, but Millie took the opportunity to lick a stripe up Moxxie's cock that had his knees going weak with pleasure and leaning more heavily into Striker. “Not at—” he inhaled sharply as Millie sucked the head of his cock, voice gone rough with pleasure, “Not at all.” 

Striker sucked a mark just under his jaw and rumbled, low and gravelly, “Good boy.” Moxxie’s claws dug into his thigh even as the rest of him went loose limbed at the praise. 

“You know, this isn't the first time I've reacted like this to somethin’. Worked a ranch that had a field of these little yellow flowers…snff…set my nose off something awful.” Millie moaned, tail curling, and Moxxie shuddered as the vibrations sent waves of pleasure up his spine. Striker smirked at the chain reaction and wrapped an arm around Moxxie's waist to help steady him.

“Didn't realize the wind had scattered the pollen all over the…snfff, the hay bales until I started moving ‘em.” Just talking about it with his nose already sensitive had a sympathetic tickle building in the back of his nose. Millie had wrapped her hands over Moxxie's thighs, claws lightly scratching his hips as she sucked him in earnest. Moxxie was panting and whimpering, face gone lax with pleasure, and Striker couldn't resist kissing him. He tangled their tongues together and nipped at Moxxie's lips, drinking in his little sounds of pleasure. 

He pulled back and Moxxie whined, eyes half closed with pleasure. He rumbled with enjoyment at the sound and ran his thumb over Moxxie's flushed lower lip. 

“There was no one else to finish the job. But halfway through, I couldn't stop…hh…sneezing for more than a minute.” Striker watched one of Millie's hands move down between her legs, too worked up to wait. “Tried snff tying a bandana around my face, but it got too wet to keep on,” he made a note, as Millie moaned, that that detail was still a turn on. 

“My eyes and nose were a mess and you could see where I'd been trying to aim for my shoulder and elbow. Tripped a-huh…a few times and even dropped a hay bale once from sneezing so h-hard,” Millie was moaning and panting around Moxxie's cock as her hand rubbed between her legs. Moxxie's tail had released Striker's thigh to thrash as his pleasure built alongside hers. 

Striker wrinkled his nose trying not to instinctively fight the building sneeze as he remembered how it felt to be so consumed by his allergies. He briefly sucked and nibbled Moxxie's throat and then pinched and rolled his left nipple as he pulled back with a wavering breath. 

“I'd never sneezed s-huh-so much in my life. Even just thinking about how bad I had to…huhhh…had to sneeze no matter…hehh…h-how many times I…” his eyes fell to slits, nostrils fluttering as he tried to keep talking. Both Moxxie and Millie were close, shivering and moaning as they built up to climax. Just a little longer… “...huhhh…many times I…huh-Hh-sndeezed-EIHHHH!-SHOOO…” He sneezed openly into the air away from Moxxie, blinking away tears from such a torturous build up so he could focus on the sight of his lovers. 

Millie cried out and then swallowed repeatedly as she shook through her climax, claws digging into Moxxie's thigh. Moxxie followed over as the rush of pleasure and pinpricks of pain brought him to orgasm. Striker groaned low at the titilating display. 

He stroked Moxxie's chest through the aftershocks of pleasure, supporting most of Moxxie's weight. His tail snaked around Moxxie's legs to caress Millie's shoulder and down over her hip. She tangled their tails together as she caught her breath. But when she looked up at him, the hunger in her eyes had barely dimmed. He gazed just as hungrily back, only the desire to keep Moxxie upright keeping him from pouncing on her. He look a slow breath to calm himself and focus on Moxxie for a moment. 

“Let's get you on the bed, little one,” he purred low and affectionate. Moxxie was too contented to even complain about the petname. Striker scooped him up in his arms and laid him down with his back propped up by a scattered bunch of pillows.

Millie crawled onto the bed and kissed Moxxie with a soft caress to his cheek.

“Why don't you get comfortable, Mils?” 

Millie grinned and then shifted to laying with her back against Moxxie's chest, sitting in the V of his thighs. Moxxie wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling and kissing at her throat. 

Striker knelt on the bed, sliding forward to be in between Millie's legs and then laid down so his head was between her thighs. Moxxie drew his knees up to give him more room to work.

She trailed her hands along his jaw and then tangled them in his short white hair to tug him forward between her thighs. Millie clenched at the fresh rush of heat between her legs. She loved seeing such a dangerous man laying all that strength down before her and letting her take control. He lapped at the crease of her thigh and her tail twisted behind her. Striker snuffled against her thigh and jerked with a sharp sniff when he picked up on the scent of her perfume.

He looked up at her with a sniffle and a cocked questioning brow. 

“You’re not gonna leave a lady waiting, are ya, honey?” She gave a little tug urging him back against her. He grinned, and with a little huff of amusement, he returned to nuzzling her thigh and teasingly brushing against her labia. As he breathed in more of the light floral scent she dabbed on her thighs earlier, his breath came in itchy, wavering inhales. 

“Hhh…Huuhh…” He pressed his nose more firmly into her thigh as he took in a sharp breath. “Huuuh’RRRMPSH…Hhh’hh’ESSHHmphh..” She moaned loudly, practically collapsing back against Moxxie, who pet over her belly and thighs. “Christ…Snf! There’s somethin’ in that…that’s making me…hhhh’Huh’ESSHHHuhh,” he sneezed openly between her legs and she whined and shuddered with a fresh wave of pleasure. “Snff! ...Making me sneeze, darlin’,” he finished with a wide wicked grin. She was impressed he had already figured out just how to play up his allergic reaction for her. 

“Fuck, Striker,” she moaned, grabbing onto one of his horns just to ground herself. 

“Gesundheit,” Moxxie purred, looking down at Striker with a pleased little smirk as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He loved seeing his wife so worked up. Striker winked at him before he began to lap teasingly just above Millie’s clit. 

She whined and her tail coiled in the sheets as he gripped her thighs to keep her from bucking up for more friction. He licked and nuzzled for another moment before the tickle in his nose flared. He sniffled but didn't fight the urge. “Hihhh…..Hih-Gh-GZSSHHHuhhh… hh’heh’EHRSSHHuhh… Fuck, snff, your perfume is r-really getting to me, darlin’,” he purred in faux complaint. “My nose…ihh-itches…”

Moxxie grinned against her throat as she moaned and writhed against two sets of strong hands keeping her mostly pinned down. Striker rubbed his itchy nose against Millie's thigh and she moaned again as she felt his nostrils twitch against her overheated skin. 

“You wouldn't want to sneeze on my wife, would you Striker?” Moxxie asked, both teasing and offering Striker a new spin on the game. “You should try and hold them back.”

Millie whimpered, hips shifting restlessly at Moxxie’s words. 

“Don’t know If I…c-can..Hihhh…hold off for hh’huhhh…long..” He pressed two fingers against his fluttering nostrils as he built up to another sneeze. “Huhhh..? Snffff” He sniffled and sighed as the need to sneeze backed down. 

“Striker…” she whined as Moxxie kissed along her throat. Striker smirked and rubbed his thumb in circles around her clit. 

“You must be feeling neglected, sweetheart. I'm sorry my…huhhh…my nose is being so …suhhh-Huhhh…” he pinched and rubbed his nostrils as they flared wide with irritation until he managed to hold off the sneeze for a second time. “Snff...so distractin’.” Millie's hips were rolling up into his touch as she panted and moaned. He ran his fingers along her seam and she was dripping with need. He purred and used her slick to ease the friction of him rubbing over her clit. 

“Snf! Your perfume just tickles suh-so…hhh-Hihhhhh…fuh-fuck gonna-sneeze-HUH’IGGSHHHHuh…huh’UHRSSSHHHoo…” Millie panted open-mouthed, thighs quivering and tail thrashing. She was close. Moxxie pinched and rolled one of her nipples between his claws just as Striker's breath caught again. “Hh..onde mbore...hhh..Huh’UHJDSSSHHHHoooo…SNFF…Christ.” Millie cried out as he sneezed across her belly and between her thighs. And her body went taut as a bowstring as she came. Striker kept his fingers moving, drawing out her pleasure, until she collapsed against Moxxie. 

He flushed a little at the evidence of how wet his last sneeze had been, but it was overshadowed by the gorgeous view of how Millie had fallen lax, purring in the afterglow of her orgasm. Moxxie petted her hair, but with his other hand he beckoned Striker to him for a kiss. 

He crawled up Millie's body and rubbed his cheek lightly against hers in a casual gesture of affection before leaning up to meet Moxxie in a hungry kiss. Striker’s neglected cock throbbed between his legs. 

Moxxie pulled back to breathe and Striker let out a cutoff whine. “C’mon, beautiful, let's give Striker what he needs.”

Striker looked back down to see Millie smiling up at him with a wicked little grin that promised all kinds of trouble. His cock visibly jerked at the sight. 

“Of course, Mox. He's been so patient for us. He deserves a reward.”

She didn’t hesitate to reach up and pull him down into a hungry kiss by the back of his neck. He moaned into her mouth as she reached a hand between them, fingers stroking teasingly light over his aching cock.

Then Moxxie leaned in from behind her and tugged at his hair to guide him straight from Millie’s lips to his. Their tongues tangled, pushing back-and-forth in a playful bid for dominance. And Striker yielded completely when Millie guided his cock to rub between her folds.

He was so distracted he almost didn’t notice the signs of a building tickle until his breath wavered. He pulled back from Moxxie and rubbed his twitching nostrils against the back of his wrist.

“Oh, Striker,” Millie purred with false sympathy. "You gotta sneeze again?”

“Heh…Huuhhh…” he let out his sigh as the urge to sneeze backed down. “No,” he said with a little smirk. Millie let out a little surprised huff of laughter. He sniffled and gave his nose another rub against his wrist before lowering his hand to caress Millie’s waist and hips.

Millie rolled her hips up into his with a whimper and he tried to focus on building a rhythm between them, but the tickling in his nose suddenly rose to a burn, and he lifted his head with a sharp inhale.

“Hehhhh…HEH!…snfffff…Fucking hell,” he grumbled as the tickle teased him, leaving him just on the edge of a sneeze. His eyes were slitted and watery, and his nostrils were flushed and twitching with irritation. “Heheh…snf...”

“You all right there, Striker?”

“Fine. Just need to tuhh….huh?…Christ,” He rubbed more roughly at his nose with the back of his hand, but he only ended up hitching stuffily against his knuckles. “Huhh…sndff goddambit SDNF hihh…”

A few sneezy tears dripped down his cheeks, and his tail twitched with irritation.

“Do you want help there, darling?” Millie asked, coy and far too pleased with his situation.

“Yeh–hehhh….sndff please.”

She pulled his face down to her neck, where the floral scent was strong, and he snarled silently as it practically burned along his sinuses.

“Hehhhhh….” He hovered for just a moment on the precipice as the scent weaved its way back into his nose. And then finally, he collapsed forward with a heavy expulsion. 

“Huhhh…HUHH’ZSHHHUHH…hh’huh’URSSSHHhhuh…hh’Huh’HH’EIIDZSSHHoo…hh’UHRSSHHuhhh..snfffff..”

Millie moaned and shivered beneath him, panting alongside him as he caught his breath from his fit. Moxxie was leaned forward to kiss along Millie's jaw and Striker couldn't resist the siren song of his pretty throat, just begging to be marked up. 

He wrapped a hand around the back of Moxxie's neck and then he licked and nibbled along his pulse. But finally he bit down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and Moxxie whined with pleasure. He sighed happily when Striker pulled back, pleased to bear a mark of his possessiveness. 

Millie recaptured his attention, wiggling her hand back between them and taking a hold of his dripping cock and then guiding it into her. He moaned, claws digging into her hips as he slowly pressed into her hot, wet heat. 

He could tell that neither of them would last long when they were this worked up even with this being her third orgasm. Both of their tails twisted and writhed against the sheets as they quickly built to a pounding pace. Moxxie’s hands danced between them, pinching, clawing, and petting them both as he pleased. 

Millie muffled her cries of pleasure against his throat as she bit and suck a possessive line of hickeys around the base of his neck. Her fingers clawed his back as her hips rose to meet his every thrust.

He could feel his own orgasm building low in his belly, and he set a punishing pace that he knew would drive her over the edge. He refused to let himself finally release until he felt her come around him.

Her movements grew jerkier and her rhythm faltered. Then, finally, she clenched down around him as her head fell back with a wild cry and he bit down on her throat in a mirror image of the mark he’d left on Moxie‘s throat. Two more thrusts and then he was following her over the edge into climax, keeping up the pace as long as he could to draw out their pleasure until it shifted into oversensitivity. 

He lowered himself onto her, careful to keep his nose away from her neck, but knowing she’d have no problem with his added weight. All three of them purred contentedly for several long moments, savoring the afterglow. Moxxie traded off between petting over any bare skin he could reach, gaze soft with warm affection. 

But finally, Moxxie shifted out from beneath them and helped them both clean up. When they were all resettled again, Striker was bookended between them, his arms wrapped around their shoulders as they rested their heads against his chest.

He sniffled, nose still a little sensitive, but too comfortable to move his arms, so he turned and rubbed his nose into the pillow.

He took in a breath and found a now familiar scent. He mentally cursed as his breath caught immediately. He turned his face back towards the ceiling, trying to get away from the allergen as he gasped two deep desperate breaths in. He struggled to focus on untangling his arms for his lovers to bring them to his face but he was too late. 

“Huhhhhh…HUHHH’ERRRSHHHHuhhh….ERSSHHHuhh…Huh’hh’EXSHHHmphh…” He managed to open his streaming eyes and see that Millie had brought a clean tissue to his nose, but then his eyes snapped shut as he launched into another fit of sneezes. “Hhhh’RRRMPHsshhuh…hh’hiiih- EISSHHUHhh…f-fuck can’t stop-EIRRSSHHHoo…ETSSHHmpphh…EKTSHHmpphh….” 

He finally managed to pause for long enough to blow his nose and Millie was quick to grab a fresh tissue and bring it back to his wet twitchy nostrils for him to blow again. “Hh’MPHHHshh…ESHHuhh…” He let out a last tired sounding sneeze, “Esshhm…” and snuffled into the tissues. He gave a little groan and found his eyes being gently wiped by another tissue held in Moxxie's gentle grip. 

“Christ. Snff. Pardon me,” he offered, embarrassed at being fussed over. He felt tired from both the sneezing and the sex, but he’d certainly never felt this good after an allergy attack before. And he relaxed as he tangled his tail with both of theirs.

But when he caught sight of Millie’s tail practically doing loop-de-loops behind her he chuckled warmly. “Another round, darlin’?”

Maybe this time in the shower.

-----

Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you enjoyed this very niche hot self indulgent mess.

“Have you ever used this stuff before?”

Jimin is squinting at a small bottle of nasal spray. He and Taehyung are sitting on the floor of the bathroom, surrounded by towels and wadded up tissues. Running the hot water in the shower so Taehyung could breathe in the steam had been an attempt to ease the symptoms of his cold, but it hadn’t touched even a fraction of the relentless congestion in his sinuses.

Taehyung sniffles and dabs at his nose with a crumpled tissue. “No. I bought it last time I was sick but I never opened it. Do you think it will work?”

Nodding absently, Jimin continues to peruse the lengthy directions. 

Suddenly, Jungkook appears in the doorway holding a bowl and a spoon. He leans against the doorframe and tilts his head to one side. 

“What are you guys doing in here?”

“Hi, baby. Welcome home. We’re trying to help Tae out with his stuffy nose.”

“I have a cold,” Taehyung adds, sniffling pathetically to demonstrate. “I’m really stuffy.” 

Jungkook frowns. “Oh? I didn’t know you were…you were…you have a cold?”

Taehyung nods, sniffling wetly. “Just a little cold. No need to worry about me.” 

Jungkook looks down at his bowl and then back at Taehyung. Then, he hurries away, shoveling whatever food he has into his mouth as he goes, but he’s back in less than a minute sans bowl. 

He sits down on the bathroom floor next to Taehyung, leaning his back against the wall as he reaches over and rubs Taehyung’s back. “Why d-didn’t you…?”

Sighing, Taehyung reaches for Jungkook’s hand, but then seems to think better of it. “Didn’t want to worry you, baby. Like I said, it’s just a small cold.”

“You sound really bad, though,” Jungkook frowns. “A-a-and you could have just texted me.” 

“I would like to note that I was under the impression Tae texted you already to let you know he was sick,” Jimin says in the silence that follows. He fixes Taehyung with a stern look. 

Taehyung’s shoulders drop, and he gives Jungkook a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Koo. I should have texted you.”

Jungkook nods in agreement and continues to rub Taehyung’s back. “Yeah. Well, I’m sorry you’re sick.”

Sniffling, Taehyung reaches for another tissue and attempts to blow his nose. He’s not productive, and Jimin smiles sympathetically before he turns back to the bottle of nasal spray. 

“Should we go ahead and use this now, then?”

Taehyung nods, and Jungkook leans over to see. 

“What is it?”

“Nasal spray,” Taehyung replies. “Jimin is gonna spray it up my nose and it’ll help with the congestion.” He giggles at Jungkook’s horrified expression. 

Jimin clears his throat and then reads from the back of the bottle. “Step one: Gently blow your nose to clear your nasal passages of mucus before using the medicine.”

Taehyung reaches for a tissue, folding it over his nose and giving a soft, gurgling blow. “Okay. Best I can do. Step two?”

“Step two: Remove the cap and shake the bottle.” 

Jimin uncaps the bottle and shakes it a few times. 

“Step three: Tilting your head forward slightly, breathe out slowly. Oh wait, there’s a lot more. Uh, okay, I’m going to read the next few steps all together, and then we can try it. So step three is: Tilt your head forward and breathe out slowly. Then, step four: Close the nostril that is not receiving the medication by gently pressing on that side of your nose. Step five: Gently insert the bottle tip into the other nostril, and squeeze the pump as you begin to breathe in slowly through your nose. Remove the bottle and sniff once or twice. Step six: Exhale through your mouth. Do not blow your nose or sneeze for at least fifteen minutes after using the spray. If you blow your nose or sneeze within a few minutes after taking your spray, please wait ten minutes before trying again.”

Jimin looks up. “That sounds pretty simple, right?” 

Taehyung’s eyes are wide as saucers. “Simple? I don’t know! What if I have to sneeze afterwards? I really can’t sneeze for fifteen whole minutes?” 

Next to him, Jungkook snorts. “That’s the part you’re worried about?” 

“Wait, what part do you think I should be worried about?” Taehyung asks.

“Um, maybe the part where you’re spraying stuff up into your brain?” 

“It’s not my brain, it’s my sinuses,” Taehyung protests, but he still looks a little wary.

“Okay, enough. Let’s just do it. Tae, close your right nostril. We can start on the left side.”

Taehyung reaches up and presses his finger against the right side of his nose. As Jimin leans forward, Taehyung exhales, and then Jimin inserts the tip of the bottle into his left nostril. 

“Get ready to take a deep, slow breath in through your nose,” Jimin instructs, and Taehyung closes his eyes in preparation, his brows furrowed. 

Jimin is pretty sure that the first sneeze comes before he even finishes spraying– but the force with which the sneeze barrels out of Taehyung stuns him enough that he doesn’t have time to think about anything at all.

“hahh’SHUHH!”

“Ahh!” Jimin yelps, reeling back. 

The bottle of nasal spray goes flying across the bathroom, and Taehyung snaps forward with another ferocious sneeze. 

“HAHH’DSHHH-uhh!”

“Wait,” Jungkook cackles, watching Taehyung in amusement. “You’re not supposed to sneeze!”

 “iih’DSHCHH-uhhh! AHH’HSHH’ooo! HDDZSH-ahh!”

Taehyung gasps, his head rearing back. There are tears streaming down his face, and although he has brought his hands up in front of him, he’s so occupied by the need to sneeze that they’re just hovering uselessly, doing nothing to cover the barrage of frantic expulsions. 

“AASHHH! HAHHH’DDZSH! ihhhh’SHUHH! ahh-HAHH’SHHH!” 

Jimin, who is finally recovering from the surprise attack, scrambles for the box of tissues while Jungkook continues to laugh and Taehyung continues to sneeze. 

“AHH’HSHH-uhh! hhh-EEHSH’ahh! HAHH’DSHHH-uhh!”

“Aigoo, bless you! Bless you!”

As soon as Jimin presses a bundle of tissues into Taehyung’s palm, he brings his hands to his face and nuzzles into them, blinking rapidly as he sniffles and snuffles and tries to recover. 

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks, reaching out to squeeze his thigh. “That was intense!” 

“What the fuck just happened to me?” Taehyung croaks. 

“All of that sneezing from a tiny spray of water up your nose,” Jungkook says, still slightly breathless from his laughter. “You’re so sensitive.” 

“I can’t help it!” Taehyung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It tickled really bad!” 

“Aigoo, now you sound stuffier than before,” Jimin tuts. “Do you think you can try on the other side?” 

“You want me to do that again?” Taehyung asks incredulously, his mouth dropping open.

Jungkook bursts into laughter again, slapping his leg with his hand and rocking forward. “Please, please do it again,” he says through his laughter. 

“Could you please try to be a little more supportive?” Jimin pleads. 

Jungkook stops laughing and straightens up, his lips pressed together. He nods, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward when Taehyung sniffles and then snorts loudly. 

Jimin holds the bottle up once more.

“Okay, Tae. You’ve got this. Don’t sneeze. Don’t even think about sneezing. Think about something else.”

Taehyung whimpers. “Like what?”

“Think about baseball,” Jungkook suggests cheekily, causing Jimin to roll his eyes. 

“I’m going to put it up your nose now,” Jimin narrates. “I’ll spray on the count of three. Ready?”

Taehyung nods and dutifully lets out a slow breath. As soon as Jimin inserts the tip of the bottle into his nostril, he tenses up, eyes watering.

“One…”

Taehyung blinks several times, and his hands curl into fists. 

“Two…”

Squirming, Taehyung inhales sharply, his breathing turning erratic. 

“Three.” Jimin sprays the medicine, and Taehyung flinches hard as it enters his nose.

“You’re doing great,” Jimin says quickly, grabbing Taehyung’s hand. “Deep breath in through your nose, love.” 

“Huhh…” Taehyung’s eyes are squeezed shut, irritated tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Don’t sneeze,” Jungkook says, but this time it’s an encouraging whisper, no teasing or sarcasm in his tone. 

“hihh-hhhHH–!”

“Taehyungie,” Jimin warns, squeezing his hand. “Don’t you dare sneeze right now. Just a few more minutes, I promise.” 

Taehyung’s nostrils flare wide. His brows draw together, and he inhales again, a desperate gasp that signals a coming detonation.

And then, Taehyung explodes. 

“hahh’SHUHH! HAHHH’DDZSH! HAHH’DSHHH-uhh! AASHHH! ihhhh’SHUHH! ahh-HAHH’SHHH! hhh-EEHSH’ahh!”

Taehyung pants, open-mouthed, eyes and nose dripping as his body tries to expel the last of the irritation. 

“HAHH’DSHHH-uhh!”

“Oh, honey, bless you!” Jimin exclaims.

“HAHHH’DDZSH!”

“My goodness!”

“AHH’HSHH-uhh!”

“Oh no, baby. Are you okay?”

Taehyung shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again. “W-wait– one more– AASHHH!”

“Aigoo, bless you.” 

Jungkook wraps his arm around Taehyung’s waist, rubbing his side soothingly. “Bless you.” 

“That was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Taehyung croaks, dragging the sleeve of his hoodie across his face. His eyelashes are wet with tears and his nose is bright red. 

Jimin looks down at the bottle of nasal spray, then back up at Taehyung, and smiles apologetically. 

Eddie hated everything about this. Hiding in a stupid classroom supply closet when he’d rather be at home, playing guitar, or jerking off to unwind. Hiding in a stupid classroom supply closet with Billy Fucking Hargrove, of all people. Wedged together like a couple of cartoon characters, uncomfortably close. He only hoped that Billy understood he was as unhappy with the turn of events as he evidently was, making the occasional huff of displeasure and pressing a firm hand to Eddie’s chest to keep the distance between them as expansive as possible. It physically hurt, truth be told – Eddie’s back pressing uncomfortably up against something pointy – but he’d rather die than admit any discomfort to Billy.

A drug deal in the school building – stupid. Absolutely downright moronic, and yet he’d given in anyway. He didn’t feel like challenging Hargrove when he sauntered up to him in the hallway, not with that dangerous glint in his eyes. Most students would be at the basketball game after school, and Eddie would have normally had a D&D session to hold anyway, which he cancelled last minute. He could make an exception (“This one fucking time”, he had emphatically stated, to Billy’s responding sneer), give Billy the goods in an empty classroom and get the hell out of dodge. He hadn’t taken into account that the weird happenings all over Hawkins would result in increased after-hours security.

They’d seen the light of a torch before they’d heard any footsteps. Both had frozen as the sound of doors being opened, and the lights of classrooms being switched on, echoed out in the cavernous hallways. There had been an unspoken agreement that it would not do at all to be caught red-handed in a very illegal drug deal. Even if this dude wasn’t a cop, it wouldn’t stop him from calling them up. Eddie couldn’t stomach the thought of another evening in the shitty little station holding room, let alone with Billy as a cellmate. With the grace of stalking cats, they were in the closet in no time, delicately closing the door behind them.

It was dark in the closet but not pitch black. A barely operative bulb bathed them in a dim orange glow – they hadn’t noticed it from outside, so with any luck, security wouldn’t either. It was with the assistance of this dismal lighting that Eddie first noticed the delicate swirl of dust motes in the air, only seconds before his twitching nostrils did. Fuck.

Keeping his imminent sneezes quiet wouldn’t be a problem, at least for the short amount of time it would take for security to look over their classroom. Sneezing silently was something a lifetime of allergies had prepared him for, one way or the other. He considered reaching up to cover his face, maybe pinch his nostrils shut, but it was probably more effort than it was worth. He could stifle perfectly well hands free, and what if he ended up clumsily knocking into a shelf trying to reach his face? Nah.

More concerning than sneezing was the matter of getting hard. He could feel an active boner stirring, pants increasingly tighter, and he hadn’t even started to sneeze yet. He wondered if the fear of being caught and the subsequent adrenaline of it was somehow encouraging his traitorous cock. This too was manageable; he just had to make sure he didn’t touch dicks with Hargrove. Easy.

Moments later he took in one last little shaky breath and convulsed as gently as he could manage. The first sneeze was incredibly itchy, a fluttery, teasing little thing. The next six came relatively rapid-fire, completely silent – Eddie was sure they would have been entirely undetectable if he and Billy weren’t currently cuddled up closer than he had been to any girl in months. As it was, the subtle contract and release of his seizing muscles was apparently a dead give-away.

He felt Billy pressing him back even further, directly into whatever bastard object was digging into his back. The sudden shove of that strong hand on his chest effectively winded him; he exhaled involuntarily as it pressed on. Composure thrown, he barely had time to react as the tickle ground down on his sinuses especially hard, perhaps in retaliation, or as if seizing the opportunity to really cause havoc. He gasped audibly, chest expanding as far as it could against Billy’s hand, and started to sneeze again.

“Heh’Gxt! ND’t!! Hh’NDTt!! EH’NGXtt!!-chu…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Eddie peered at him through fluttering eyelashes, shuddering at the menacing glint in Billy’s eyes. Fucking psychopath.

“I’m fucking trying, dipshit! Get the fuck off me, y-you’re-!”

Eddie trembled, face heating at the effort it took to wrangle the next three little sneezes into barely audible, nasal squeaks.

“Get OFF me-!” He whisper-shouted once he’d recovered. Billy looked at him with a simmering fury but eased the pressure of his hand on Eddie’s chest. They stared at each other with pure hatred, interrupted only by a few silent sneezes from Eddie that forced him to break eye contact.

“Fuckin’ disgusting.” Billy muttered, barely more than mouthed it, but all the same Eddie suppressed a shiver of rage – and, if he was being honest, intensely regrettable arousal. If Billy shifted his thigh just a little bit closer to his crotch, he was cooked.

For a couple of minutes longer, they stood and listened. The guy wasn’t getting any closer, and Eddie wondered if he’d found something incriminating in one of the nearby classrooms to slow him down. Whatever it was, the sure-fire trajectory of his course had changed and they were left waiting in silent suspense. Eddie's sneezing had ceased, for the meantime; he’d managed to quell the initial explosive response, which had left him with stuffy, burning sinuses and leaky, irritated eyes. It also meant he’d merely prolonged the reaction, and would no doubt be sneezing into his pillow later on when he was trying to sleep. He ground his teeth in irritation, ignoring the little twitch his dick gave at the thought of bed plus sneezing.

A distinctly wet sniffle cut through the silence, and for a moment Eddie thought it had come from him. When a second followed, he realised with surprise and a giddy, traitorous excitement that it was Billy. His eyes focused in on the guy’s face immediately, and through the dim light he could make out the unmistakeable agony of a pre-sneeze expression. An unbelievably desperate, unabashedly open twisting of features that somehow softened Billy’s face into something almost beatific.

Eddie wasn’t blind – he knew the guy was surface-level attractive, it had just never really occurred to him that he would ever be able to appreciate it - what with Billy being a total serial killer in the making. But as his face dropped, there was a vulnerability about him that was downright hypnotic. Even his dead eyes seemed to sparkle with surrender as the budding sneeze took hold, flaring his nostrils into perfect little circles. Eddie had a couple more moments of lustful appreciation before the abject panic seized him.

“Hargrove!” He hissed. “Hold it back!”

God, this was mortifying. Not only were they at very real risk of being found with drugs, huddled up against each other - Billy was probably going to sneeze in his face in this proximity. The thought of it made him dizzy with arousal as much as it made him despair. His dick was hard enough to hurt.

Billy didn’t seem to hear him, or at any rate wasn’t listening. To Eddie’s dismay, he inhaled a forebodingly shaky breath of preparation. Eddie could feel the tensing of his body in the cramped space. Billy’s hand had at some point migrated from its splayed position on his chest to gripping at the lapel of his leather jacket, and as he gasped again – a stupidly sexy sound that made Eddie’s dick twitch – his hold tightened. Eddie was irrevocably pinned.

“Fuck, man, I’m serious - you gotta hold it back!”

Billy’s hazy eyes fixed upon his own, and for a moment his expression tightened into a look of scorn, only slightly underscored by the perpetual sneeziness. Eddie shivered, feeling hot and cold all over.

“I can’t hold it, motherfucker. It’s a sneeze, you can’t control that shit.” He spat back, voice more of a stage whisper than a stuck-in-a-closet-about-to-be-discovered-with-drugs one. Compartmentalising the incredible hypocrisy to rage over later, Eddie frantically shushed him, and Billy bristled like an angry cat, hand yanking at Eddie’s lapel, and –

They both froze at the sound of the classroom door swinging open, the click of the light switch. The artificial light crept into the room under the closet door, and Eddie shuffled his foot away, timidly, as if being touched by the rays was enough to signal his concealment. Eddie’s heartbeat pounded in his ears; he turned to look at Billy and saw with no small amount of distress that he looked even closer to sneezing than before. Even as the security guy started to whistle and wind his way through the desks, a gentle gasp tore out of him.

With a grace and commitment he hadn’t been aware he possessed, Eddie grit his teeth and pulled his arms out of their cramped position. Knowing he was potentially signing his own death certificate, he paused for just a moment to take in the gorgeous sight of Billy’s violently expressive nostrils before pinching them closed with a thumb and forefinger, the opposite hand clamping firmly over Billy’s mouth.

If Billy had looked like he wanted to kill him before, the absolute daggers he shot at Eddie now made him wince. He held steady though, keeping both hands firmly in place, and was glad of it when he felt Billy’s lips parting under his hand, and felt the furious twitching of his nostrils as they fought against his grip. Billy’s cruel, piercing eyes were now mere slits of irritation, leaking tears that spilled down his face and onto Eddie’s skin.

Finally, they heard the guy making his way out of the room. He hadn’t even come close to the closet, for which Eddie thanked his god damn lucky stars. As those heavy footsteps echoed further and further down the hallway, Eddie started to relax – only to gasp in pain as Billy yanked his hands away by the wrists, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and slammed Eddie backwards again.

“If you EVER. Touch me like that again, you fucking freak-“ Billy all but growled at him, shaking Eddie emphatically. Eddie didn’t even have it in him to feel scared about anything other than the fact that Billy’s crotch was millimetres, perhaps 1/100th of a millimetre away from touching his own rock-hard dick.

“-trying to fucking s-hh-! Suffocate me?!”

Eddie’s ears perked up at the tiny little stutter, that sexy little mid-sentence hitch of breath. It seemed that Billy had temporarily quelled the urge to sneeze through all-encompassing rage, but its effects were now wearing thin.

“For your information,” Eddie started, and squirmed, trying to yank his wrists free, only to be slammed backwards once again. His forearms ached as they collided painfully with the metal shelving behind him. In an uncharacteristic moment of weakness, he wished very much he skipped gym a little less. He gathered himself and continued.

“I just saved our asses – so you’re fucking welcome, asshole.”

Billy slammed him again and Eddie hissed, starting to worry that security might be alerted by the clattering sound of objects falling to the ground. A much more pressing consequence of Billy’s mindless anger was the unearthing of even more dust. Eddie’s face was feeling so itchy at this point he simply wanted to remove the whole thing. There was no way he wasn’t gonna be sneezing himself breathless the moment he stepped into the shower at home.

Billy at once seemed to understand the regrettable commotion he had caused, tensing quite suddenly with a low muttered ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“You had enough? Gonna calm down now?” Eddie whispered, taking the chance to yank his wrists free, rolling his eyes in aggravation as Billy’s hands immediately returned once again to grip him by the lapels.

“Fuck, I need’ta sneeze…” Billy announced matter-of-factly.

Eddie blushed, all of his anger instantly converted into giddy expectancy. A wave of calm suffused him, quite suddenly. They ought to get the fuck out of here, before security doubled back and they’d missed their window of escape. That being said, they had a little time left, and Billy was still clinging to him like a lifeline, even as he started into a definitive build-up. As far as Eddie was concerned, he may as well enjoy what was inevitably about to happen, all prior anxiety and revulsion swallowed up by acceptance. He just hoped that as he stared openly at Billy’s crumpling face that he wasn’t sporting a total ‘come hither’ look.

“Keep it quiet.” Eddie said, feeling outrageously like a lover giving commands during sex, then blushing further at the thought.

Unbelievably, Billy nodded his head in understanding moments before his face dropped – mouth hanging slack, nostrils flared round and angry, eyebrows drawing upwards – and then everything drew tight as the first sneeze barrelled out of him and caught Eddie across his neck and jawline.

Eddie shuddered, entirely beyond his control, and managed to suppress a moan of pleasure into a grunt that one might easily interpret as disgust. He had just moments to replay in his mind the sound of the sneeze, the heady, spraying wetness of it, before Billy was lurching forward with another.

“Hgk’TSSCHHSSTTtt!!”

To Billy’s credit, they were relatively quiet – almost nothing vocal to them at all, just the pure audible wetness as they sprayed outwards through clenched teeth. In fact, they were remarkably wet – they doused Eddie in glittering clouds, twinkling delicately in the low-light of the exposed bulb. He was so turned on he could barely breathe.

“-Hhdt’TISSSSHhhh!!”

Eddie really couldn’t help but gasp at that one; whilst the previous few had caught his chest, neck and chin, this one was delivered squarely to his face – so perfectly he couldn’t help but think that Billy, the bastard, had actually aimed it that way. He should be disgusted, entirely so, but he wasn’t. He wanted it to happen again and again. His own hands, shaking at his sides, reached up and gripped Billy’s wrists, seeking support as his knees started to buckle.

He should use this opportunity to push Billy backwards and squeeze his way out of the closet – the blonde was so entirely absorbed in his endless sneezing that it wouldn’t have taken much effort at all. He should do that, but this was also one of the hottest things that had ever happened to him, pure masturbation fodder, and he was only human. He exhaled shakily as Billy sprayed him again, his lips wet with the droplets of each sneeze, like the sickest kind of kiss.

“Hht’TSSSHHH!! TSChHH!! Hah’TTISSSHHH!! TISHHH’u!!”

Eddie could feel him trembling with the effort as the fit progressed – could hear the way a vocal desperation leaked into each barely-suppressed eruption.

“Hh-HH! HHG’TSSSXSHTTtt!!”

Okay. As much as Eddie wanted to remain getting his sick little kicks, a moment of sense suffused him and he realised they really needed to move. That last sneeze – gorgeous, perfect, soaking wet – had also been about twice the volume of those preceding it. He could tell Billy was losing any ability to control them. As much as he would honestly love to watch that play out all over him, the party was over.

He squirmed towards the door, angling himself as best he could to shimmy the rest of the way out with Billy still clinging to his jacket. When he pushed it open, Billy seemed to come somewhat to his senses and followed, dropping his hands and allowing Eddie to pull him out by the forearm.

He dragged Billy the rest of the way out of the classroom and into the corridor – no sign of security – then nearly jumped out of his skin as Billy sneezed, entirely without restraint, catching the side of his face and causing the pair of them to stumble.

“aAEHHh’TSSSHHHH’Uuu!!”

The very rafters seemed to tremble with it, made all the more explosive by the relative emptiness of the building. It echoed, bounced off the walls in a way that would be comical if it wasn’t a) painfully erotic and b) about to get them caught. Eddie heard the pounding of those same heavy footsteps returning. He ran, yanking Billy along until the both of them were sprinting, bursting out of the building and into the parking lot, empty but for a few stragglers at the periphery waiting for the game to finish.

Eddie had run towards his van on auto, realising almost immediately how fucking stupid he was to stop there. He peered anxiously in the direction of the doors they’d emerged from, finally relaxing when it was apparent they hadn’t been followed. He exhaled a stupid little laugh, but then Billy, leaning one hand against the side of the van, sneezed again, and Eddie remembered he was hard and that everything about this was incredibly awkward. Now that he was out of the immediate line of fire and could think somewhat clearly, he kind of wanted to die of embarrassment, just a little. That didn’t, however, stop him from watching with unblinking eyes as Billy’s head reared back, nostrils twitching and flaring like crazy, preparing to sneeze magnificently.

“HHh’WRRSSSSCHhh!! HAHH’TSSSSHhhh!! HUH’DTTSSSHHH!! ‘DZZTSSSHHhh’uu!!”

He aimed these towards the ground, Eddie was happy to see. Not that he wasn’t literally counting down the seconds until he could drive home and cum to the thought of having his face sneezed on as he was pinned in place, but this way he could really appreciate every detail without reflexively closing his eyes.

Each sneeze tossed Billy forward with such force Eddie was sure he would have fallen, if not for the arm he braced against the van. They burst out of him in huge clouds of spray, the initial, heavier droplets spattering the dusty ground before the finer aerosol dissipated into the surrounding air. Eddie shuddered to remember those smaller sneezes from earlier settling on his face; the thought of directly receiving an even bigger, wetter one made his knees feel weak.

Billy pulled himself up to full height, shaking his hair back over his shoulders and beaming with an indulgent look of total satisfaction. He licked his lips clean, shiny as they were with the residual spray of his sneezing, and beamed at Eddie with a look that appeared practically post-orgasmic. It was fucking shameless. Totally sick. Eddie’s dick throbbed so hard he gasped with it. Billy smirked.

“Enjoy the show, Fag?” he drawled, looking pointedly at Eddie’s crotch.

Eddie flushed, feeling hot with shame. So he had noticed, at some point or other, that Eddie had been hard. What’s more, he’d clearly sussed that it had something to do with his sneezing. He turned his eyes away from Billy’s face, considering finding a really tall building to throw himself off of – when, as his eyes darted to the ground, he caught sight of something he couldn’t quite believe. His eyes glanced up gingerly, tentatively, to Billy’s crotch, and – yep. That sure was a fucking boner, even more obvious in Billy’s tight blue Levi’s than Eddie’s baggier black jeans. Against his better judgement, heart pounding in his chest, he smirked right on back.

“Yeah. Maybe I did. Sure takes a fag to fucking know one, blondie.” His eyes flicked down suggestively with the taunt.

He’d known he was playing with fire, but the speed with which Billy came at him was alarming – he didn’t have time to move entirely out of the way, the punch catching his shoulder with a heavy thud. Stupid with adrenaline, Eddie lunged back, pushing Billy backwards until he nearly came unbalanced. He’d been hoping to trip him, get him on his back and beat the living shit out of him, but Billy was clearly just as worked up. He grabbed Eddie round the middle, almost throwing him backwards and into the side of his van, which hurt like fucking hell.

Scrambling for purchase, Eddie managed to dodge another punch before it landed on his face, catching his collarbone in an eruption of pain. Pissed off beyond belief, he kicked Billy in the shin, hard enough that he went down on one knee, then kicked him in the stomach. He raised a balled up fist to swing a punch, but before he could even process what had happened, he was slammed down onto his back, staring up with shock at the starry night sky. He realised with dismay that Billy had grabbed his kicking leg and thrown him to the floor in response.

Billy was suddenly crawling on top of him, pinning his arms above his head by the wrists. Eddie bucked wildly, furiously in response, but then Billy pressed his rock-hard dick up against Eddie’s and started to rut. Even through their clothes it felt amazing; Eddie couldn’t hold back the groan that came from deep within his throat, bucking back up and into Billy for all he was worth, not believing it was happening but unable to stop. He looked up at Billy, regarding the fierce look of pleasured concentration on his face. They locked eyes for a moment, a mutual and confused look of need mirrored in one another, before Billy shifted his hips, and that angle was even better.

“Fuck, Fuck, what the fuck, oh god-“ Eddie mumbled in an uncontrollable stream of expletives, body jerking as he ground back against Billy Fucking Hargrove, realising with both horror and excitement he was about to have an orgasm right there on the ground, in the middle of the parking lot where anyone could find them. He watched Billy, unexpectedly flattered to see him staring back down at him with an intense look of pleasure on his face. And then, as if in the wettest of all of his dreams, that expression shifted to – Oh god. Fuck. Shit.

Billy held that expression, that tortured, beautiful pre-sneeze agony for a split second before he sneezed again - an uncontrollable explosion that jerked his shoulders downwards, showering Eddie with the full force of it.

“HAHHD’TSSSSSSHHHTttt!!!”

Eddie’s hips jerked uncontrollably, a sharp gasp tearing out of his throat as he felt the wet slap of it across his face. The droplets went everywhere – in his hair, on his face and neck, some into his open mouth. He orgasmed violently, brain going blank as the pleasure overwhelmed him in ripples of ecstasy. The heels of his sneakers dug into the ground, his toes curling and legs shaking as he came apart entirely.

“Ohhh, fuck!! Ohh my god, ahh!!” He could hear himself groaning, uncontrollably, shocked by the intensity of his body’s reaction.

As the orgasm started to fade – what felt like an endless ecstasy packed into seconds – he hissed at the feeling of Billy bearing down on him, pushing his wrists painfully into the ground. He looked up at him, ready to try and push him off if he was looking to fight again when he was cut off by Billy’s own climax. He watched Billy’s face twist in pleasure, even prettier in orgasm than he might have expected, grunting softly as his hips ground definitively into Eddie’s pelvis. It was hot enough that his flagging erection twitched appreciatively against Billy’s spasming dick, despite himself.

When Billy went limp, loosening his grip on Eddie’s wrists and sagging forward, almost lying on top of him, Eddie went rigid. Head somewhat cleared by his orgasm, he was suddenly very fucking aware that Hargrove was not unlike a wild animal of sorts. Unpredictable, ready to pounce at any second – perhaps more so now that the need to cum wasn’t an all pervasive driving force. He lay on his back, body thrumming in the afterglow, and patiently waited for Billy to move.

Billy did sit back, releasing Eddie’s arms, but instead of immediately getting up, he sat there, half on Eddie’s hips and leaving him, once again, uncomfortably pinned. It was one moment later that Billy tensed, gasped, and sneezed again, undeniably aiming it towards Eddie. It splattered over his chest, the wettest sneeze of the evening, leaving Eddie’s shirt clinging to his skin. He moaned, the sound of it stupidly pornographic, then squeezed his eyes shut in total humiliation as Billy snickered at him, mocking and cruel.

“Tell anyone about this,” Billy said, and Eddie felt the pressure leave his hip. He heard the sound of Billy’s boots crunching into the gravel on either side of his head. “And even your trailer-trash uncle won’t be able to identify your body.”

Eddie opened his eyes once he’d heard the familiar roaring sound of Billy’s Camaro peeling out of the parking lot. He stared up at the sky until he heard approaching voices, then got up and got into his van. He tried to make sense of it all as his engine roared to life – did Billy also like guys? Did this mean Billy was attracted to him? Was that how psychos confessed their feelings? Did he really just have fully-clothed sex on the ground of a high school parking lot, with a dude? Nope. It was too much to think about right now. He needed to get home and take his antihistamines. He needed to shower away not only the dust from the closet, but the jizz now drying uncomfortably in his pubic hair, and Hargrove’s fucking sneeze spray.