Back & Blessed

Toki x Pickles drabble

“Hh’ENgxt’TZshu! Hg’Kxt! ‘Ndt! NGxt’shu! Hh’Ngxt! NGXT’TZSHhIeWWw!!”

Pickles groaned and slumped back against the sofa cushions for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. The ragweed had been evil this year. Even with the most expensive allergy medication, of which he was taking far beyond the recommended dosage, he was still sneezing enough to leave him feeling weak and ill. His eyes and nose were leaking, everything above his neck was itchy and he was so tired it was as if he’d woken up twenty hours earlier, rather than the actual two and a half. He sniffled tentatively, hoping he’d get at least a couple of minutes without another sneeze tossing him forward. He closed his eyes, squeezing out another couple of tears that ran in twin trails down his flushed cheeks.

“Bless yous.”

He smiled, running a hand up Toki’s back as the rhythm guitarist snuggled closer, wrapping a protective arm around Pickles’ waist and resting his head on his shoulder. It wasn’t all bad, having allergies this terrible when your bandmate became a cock-hungry freak as a consequence. If the pollen was so hellbent on making him unfuckable to 99.9% of the population in his current sorry state, he certainly wouldn’t turn away the advances of the very attentive and extremely toned Norwegian now tossing his leg over his thigh.

“Thank you. ‘m tickly today.” He said, sniffling again for extra measure and delighting in the way Toki shuddered and sighed in response. He was angled just so that Pickles wasn’t able to feel his erection, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was there all the same, throbbing hungrily in Toki’s jeans with every sniffle and sneeze.

Speaking of – the allergic tickle that never entirely subsided flared up again angrily, demanding the entirety of his being. He gasped with it, nostrils flaring into twin ‘O’s and jaw hanging slack, held on the precipice of another wrenching series of sneezes. He felt Toki tense at his side with anticipation and would have smirked were his face not frozen in the agonised grimace of imminent release.

A couple more seconds of suspense went by as both occupants of the couch held their breath, unmoving, and then – nothing.

“Ahh, Christ.” Pickles muttered, reaching up to rub the tip of his nose in violent circles with the heel of his hand. He knew he shouldn’t handle it so roughly but fuck it. It felt good in the worst way, like scratching an itchy bug bite. “Fuckin’ hate when this happens.”

“What ams wrong, Pickle?” Toki was watching him, pupils blown and mouth slightly open to accommodate the pace of his breathing. He looked absolutely ruined, though neither of them had taken even one item of clothing off yet. “Why amnt’s you sneezing? Doesn’t it tickles?”

“Oh, it ti-hih! Tickles, alright.” Pickles muttered breathily, hoping to god his efforts would usher out the stubborn, teasing sneezes he needed so badly. “It’s stuck. Happens sometimes, and it sucks. Fuck, it’s burning!” He moaned, rubbing harder, the wet, squishy clicking sounds of his efforts increasing in volume.

His motions were halted quite suddenly as Toki reached out, strong fingers encircling his wrist in a firm grip and pulling it away. He blinked blearily, irritably at the guitarist, silently seeking an explanation for the rude interruption.

“Stops that.” Toki murmured, any authoritative inflection in his voice marred by cloying arousal. “You ams goings to hurts yourself.”

Pickles huffed. He didn’t give a single fuck – and besides, the burning in his sinuses hurt plenty enough already. When Toki released his hand, however, he did not resume his manhandling. He watched as Toki, looking pleased as pie, extracted a fresh tissue from a pack in his pocket, then smiled in understanding as the younger man started to fashion the corner into a twisted point. Toki smiled back at him, looking as excited as he always did whenever the opportunity arose for him to play with the drummer’s nose.

“Here.” He started, shifting closer. “I’ll helps you gets the tickle out.”

He didn’t hesitate before plunging the tissue all the way inside Pickles' right nostril, probing and stroking. Pickles’ chest jumped with a series of desperate, uncontrollable little breaths as the tickling sensation was brought right back to the fore.

“Honestly, dude, it fee-hh!! -Feels like you’re just pu’hhtting more in-!” He gasped.

“Mm. I likes that.” Toki sighed, shifting his hips, and then Pickles could feel exactly how earnestly he meant it.

It didn’t take long at all. Another ten seconds or so of Toki’s gleeful teasing and Pickles was sucking in a huge, definitive breath, then pitching forward to sneeze fitfully over both of their thighs.

“HDtt-! HAHD’TCHOOh!! ‘TZshh-DZSH’u-TSHstt-! Heh’EISHH’ieww!! HNGXt’TZZsshh-! Ngxt’shu-HDt’tchu-hh-!! HEISHHh’IEWwww-!! Ouugh, fuck m’be…”

He shivered, settling back against the couch, eyes closing in pristine pleasure. He felt Toki wiping at his damp nostrils and lips with the non-twisted side of the tissue, and laughed softly, enjoying the attention.

“Blesses you, Pickle. Feels better?”

“Felt fucking great, dude. Man…I think I need to lie down after all that…”

Toki was pulling him to his feet with all of his monstrous strength before Pickles knew what was happening. Suddenly upright and blinking in surprise, he giggled at the sight of Toki’s shamelessly lustful expression. Kid had no poker face around him ever since he’d confessed his fetish – not that he’d had any reason to, given how frequently they now fucked over it.

“You gonna escort me to my room, huh?” He said, casting a lopsided grin Toki’s way.

“Mmhm. Needs to make sures you ams okays with all them sneezes.”

Pickles’ cock throbbed at the uncharacteristic roughness of the younger man’s voice, and he realised just how hard he’d become. Too focused on the sneezing up to that point to notice, he guessed. Now that he was aware, he could think of nothing more than Toki’s strong hands, warm mouth or slick ass wrapping around him.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He muttered, dragging Toki behind him, pretence be damned.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Scenario 1

I can picture Skwisgaar, Nathan and Pickles going out of their way to get an album finished and going too hard on the partying, lack of sleep etc and all ending up sharing the same evil cold. It’s frustrating enough for Nathan and Skwisgaar, but Nathan is able to get through most of his vocal recordings without sneezing (and subsequently blowing everyone’s eardrums out). Skwisgaar is similar in being able to hold back sneezes or stifle successfully without fucking up a power guitar solo; he staves off the worst to head back to his room and fuck it out with a series of groupies, fussing over his cold and itchy nose.

Pickles is used to sneezing whilst playing the drums without missing a beat – he’s had a lot of practice with his allergies and being supremely wasted – but I can see him getting to the point that he just can’t hold back anymore. It’s a particularly horrible cold and even though he’s stopped snorting drugs temporarily (literally too congested to bother) he’s still drinking heavily and making his condition far worse. Mid-recording, he just gives up and sits there, chest heaving in and out before sneezing over and over again, dousing his drum-kit and not giving a fuck that he’s spraying his cold all over the recording booth; all that matters is purging the tickle.

When he’s done, he’s wheezing, shaking and closing his mouth against the mess running over his lips. The rest of the studio is left mildly impressed by the dramatic outburst they just witnessed, and it’s the final straw for Knubbler who insists they stop recording for the day. A team of Klokateers is called in to sanitise the entire recording studio. At least one of them is sneezed on by a band member for their efforts – handing them a tissue box, not moving out of their way quickly enough as they sneeze rudely in their direction etc.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Scenario 2

I’ve thought a lot about early Dethklok Pickles getting sick in their shitty little apartment and how not one of them would know how to care for one another in that situation. He would just self-medicate, and I can picture Nathan in particular awkwardly blessing him and standing around like a spare part, torn between disgust, pity and amazement at just how many times Pickles can sneeze in a row and how tiny and dissimilar to his own huge sneezes they are. Pickles wandering into the kitchen to grab another beer and standing frozen all of a sudden before sneezing twelve times in a row and Nathan is just sat on the couch nearby watching like ‘Is my drummer broken?!’

Perhaps this is before he’s even aware Pickles has such terrible allergies – it’s super early on in their knowing each other - so he thinks it must just be the result of a really bad cold. Then, as they spend more time around each other, he becomes so used to Pickles’ sinus issues that fifteen plus sneezes in a row don’t even phase him. The whole band gets used to it, like ambient background noise LOL