#sfhr

When the QUEEN asks, you answer!!! Thank you very much for the idea and I hope you enjoy, @bluerose777! 💖💖

NSFW (more fluff coming soon, btw), kink!Shane, some mess, lots of nose blowing aka the author's poorly disguised absolutely undisguised fetish

Part 1

——

Two days after Ilya first started coming down with his cold, Shane woke to a slight pain in one ear, a dryness in his throat that wouldn’t abate even with a few coughs to clear it, and, of course, a feeling of stuffy fullness in his nose. He knew that him catching Ilya’s cold had been inevitable - the two had thoroughly taken advantage of Ilya’s sneeziness over the last few days, after all - but he’d still held out some hope that maybe he would get through the week unscathed. No such luck. 

And while yes, they still had plenty of time together before the start of training camp…

“—tchiew! hdt’shiew!”

…quite a bit of that time was going to be spent…

“—hit’chyew! ahh’SHiew!”

…sick and sneezy.

(Although there were certainly worse ways to spend one’s time.)

Only if you want . He'd be so flustered and try to hide it from Il/ya and his teammates

Hope ur doing well !!

Im doing much better with these asks in my inbox!!! Thank you for the request, your wish is granted.

Featuring- allergic!S/hane and a not-so-clueless I/lya

In my mind Ilya 100% has louder sneezes and as the rest of snzblr agrees they obviously come in multiples. I’m talking a “hh-hurRESHHhoo! haaESHHhoo!” Usually threes so tack on an extra “f-uck, hih-hHASHhoo!” In terms of covering he’ll raise the back of his hand to hover in front of his face or pull his shirt collar over his mouth and nose.

If he thinks he should be quiet he’ll stifle but they’re so strong and squeaky it’s still the volume of anyone else’s normal sneeze. When he stifles he always tries to tuck into his shirt, not pinching his nose through the shirt just kinda stifling at his chest. A very forceful “hhNGXT! nnNGXT! hihNGXTch!”

He’s not the biggest blesser and probably blesses people 50% of the time, unless it’s Shane. Will say “bless you” or “blessings.”

For Shane I see much gentler sneezes, breathy and quiet. When they’re smallest it usually results in a double but otherwise just one will hold him over for a little while. When his nose is really bothering him he’ll sneeze for a while but each is separated by a minute or so. A cute little “hehKSSH! hhISSHuu!” And he always ducks into his elbow to cover.

He won’t really stifle but sometimes his sneezes will come out kinda half-stifled. Like “hehNGSH! NGSHuu!”

Maybe has the kink? (I haven’t decided) and loves blessing Ilya. A soft and sweet “bless you” or “god bless.” And will always bless his teammates if they sneeze, typically with a “bless you, man” or “god bless you.”

I did a hair mask last night to take care of my curly hair . The smell of Moroccan oil is lovely but tickles a bit.

I've read so many fanfic of Il/ya having a curly hair routine that Sh/ane helps with. Sh/ane loves his curls as much as Il/ya adores his freckles. What if some products make one or both of them sneeze?

I feel like one of both of them react to hair products like hair spray used for commercials and fancy press releases. Imagine either of them having a bad allergy or cold day and the makeup brush setting them off. Il/ya dosent cover and accidently sneezes on the makeup artist hand. Sh/ane would spiral and be mortified in a situation like that

(I want them both to suffer I guess)

Someone write this pretty please!!!

Hi there!! Thank you so much for this request!! I had a LOT of fun with this one hehe

My hc that Shane can tell if Ilya has a cold/allergies by the sound of his sneezes is inspired by one of my all-time favorite fics (ironically featuring our other favorite Japanese/Russian skater pair) by the absolute LEGEND @hessickjim! Also inspired by conversations w the amazing @softsicknose, more to come soon <333

cw: mess, slight nsfw. feat. kink!Shane and annoying!Ilya 😈

Part 2

——

“Hahh…!”

Shane’s head whipped around at the sharp, desperate hitching to see Ilya’s head jerk downward in the direction of his shoulder.

“haAADZCHHHuhh!”

“Bless you,” Shane said, putting down his copy of The Hockey News on the kitchen counter as Ilya geared up for another sneeze - there was never, had never been, and would never be only one sneeze from the man - and Shane bobbed his head unconsciously in time with the next two sneezes that erupted from him.

“h’ISZCHHH’oo! hy’AADSZCH’ooo! -whoo,” Ilya let out a little breath, shaking his head slightly with a short sniff before going back to scrolling on his laptop.

“Bless you,” Shane said again, a little slowly. Hm. Something about the sound of those sneezes…Ilya was generally a pretty loud and unabashed sneezer, which was something that Shane secretly admired about him. He had the kind of easy confidence that Shane had never quite been able to possess, even while doing something as normal and innocuous as sneezing. But this triple had been…draining, based on the dazed look on Ilya’s face as he brought his palm up to rub violently at his nose. When would he learn that doing that would never help, Shane thought at the same time as Ilya’s expression turned irritated and his nostrils flared anew.

“hah! hahESHHHhh! ha’ATZCHHH’hoo! HAADTSZCH’ooo!”

“Bless you,” Shane repeated, frowning. “Ilya, are you feeling okay?”

Ilya sniffled again and looked at Shane, pointing a finger at his chest. “Me?”

Shane gave him an exasperated look. “Yes, you. Who else?”

“Da, of course I am feeling okay. Why?” Shane did not miss how he thumbed at the sides of his nose. Hmm.

“Are you…getting sick?”

Ilya raised an eyebrow but turned his eyes back to his laptop. “Sick? No, not at all. I am feeling fine.”

Shane paused. “Um, okay. Are you sure?”

Ilya nodded hastily, starting to get up from his barstool at the kitchen table. “Yes, all is good. -snf- I am thinking of riding bike in the gym. Want to join? You are planning on doing yoga today, yes?” He closed his laptop and started walking away.

“I…yeah. Sure. I’ll be right there.” Shane’s face scrunched in confusion. What was with him?

In the home gym, Ilya stuck his headphones into his ears and started pedaling on the stationary bike. Shane watched him as he laid down his yoga mat and took off his sandals. There was a tenseness in Ilya’s shoulders, and his legs loped around in circles a bit more…sloppily than usual. Like it was taking great effort to move his body forward.

Shane was in downward dog when he heard the familiar high-pitched gasp of Ilya hitching towards a sneeze. His head snapped up so fast that he felt a little dizzy, and he had to bring himself to a seated position so he didn’t topple to the floor.

He had a perfect view of Ilya’s face in the floor-to-ceiling mirror as his face contorted into one of pure sneezy desperation.

“hyihh!” Ilya had stopped pedaling, blue eyes narrowing and looking skyward, mouth gaping open, nostrils huge and flaring…

“hy’IZSSSCHH’yew! ha’ADTSZCHHHhh! haAAHDIZSCHH’oo!”

He sneezed openly, harshly, loudly, with no covering whatsoever. Despite Ilya being at least ten feet away from the mirror, Shane saw droplets land on the reflective surface. Insanely, instead of grossing him out, it made his mouth go dry.

“Bless you,” he called over as Ilya took his towel and blew fiercely into it, his expression still looking a little tickly afterward. He rubbed his nose up and down through the cloth, and desire shot through Shane’s body at the small, relieved sigh he gave.

“Thank you.” Still touching his nose, Ilya got off the bike and looked over at Shane, then at the bulge in his pants. He stared, transfixed, and Shane could practically see him salivating. It made the familiar creep of anticipation and excitement in Shane’s tummy all the more sweeter. Then Ilya shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, giving Shane a weak smile. “I am going to shower. I will be right back.” He left the room.

Shane’s jaw dropped. What the fuck? Ilya never resisted touching Shane, especially when he was clearly aroused. By the time that Shane had uncrossed his legs from Sukhasana and made it to the door, Ilya was long gone. Shane huffed, miffed, and turned towards the mirror. The droplets were still there, and Shane blushed and wiped them away with a towel, realizing why Ilya had left him there. With fucking blue balls.

Goddammit. Why was Ilya downplaying that he was obviously catching a cold? Did he feel like he couldn’t trust Shane with such an admission? No, that wasn’t possible, Shane reassured himself despite the anxiety gnawing at his brain. Then what? Well, he was going to fucking find out.

Adjusting himself with an embarrassing little noise, Shane headed to the bedroom. The muffled sound of the shower turning off greeted him. He sat on the bed, arms crossed, and waited for Ilya to exit the bathroom.

Ilya came out with a towel slung low on his hips and another rubbing down his wet curls. He saw Shane and stopped walking. “You are stalking me?” he said with a little smirk. Shane did not miss the tiny sniffle he gave and how it made his reddening nose twitch.

“Ilya, cut the shit. You’re clearly getting a cold. That’s why you won’t touch me. You don’t want me to get sick too.”

Ilya was quiet for a moment, looking at Shane contemplatively. For a moment, Shane thought he might be waiting for a sneeze to come. Again. Then he said, “Prove it.”

Shane gawked at him. “What?”

“Prove it. How do you know that I am getting the cold?”

Shane paused. Before he spoke, he had to remind himself, Ilya knows about you. You don’t have to hide anymore. He doesn’t think you’re a freak. He loves you. “Your sneezes sound different,” he said, feeling himself flush from top to toe.

Ilya’s eyes scanned Shane up and down, and a huge grin overtook his face. “Oh? My sneezes? What is so different about them?”

Shane was going to fucking kill him.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he said.

“I don’t know about that,” Ilya said. “You look more like…you are going to eat me.” He sat down next to Shane and started brushing a lock of hair over his ear. “What do my sneezes sound like, Shane?” He said in a low purr.

Shane felt himself start to get hard again. “They sound…tired. Um…heavy. Like they’re taking a lot out of you. You keep having to catch your breath after.”

“Hmm. I see.” Ilya was petting a fingertip over the curve of his neck now. “Anything else?”

The fucking bastard. “They’re louder. Even more than usual,” he said while side-eyeing Ilya, who gave him a mock-bashful ‘who, me?’ look. “And they make you sound all stuffed-up after.”

“You are very observant of me,” Ilya said with a generous sniffle next to Shane’s ear. Shane could hear how congested he was starting to sound. He swallowed, not sure what to do next. Ilya made the decision for him, gasping and burying his face in the towel he had used for his hair.

“ah’IDZSCHH’umf! hRASHHH’hfff! haRISCHHHhhmf!”

“Bless you,” Shane said, concerned when Ilya started coughing and couldn’t stop. Shane put a hand to his back as he sputtered. “Are you okay?!” When Ilya straightened up, Shane placed a hand on his chest and started to rub in soothing circles. “Jesus. That sounds like it hurts.”

“Spasibo. I’m -hgkm!- I’m okay.” Shane was crestfallen when Ilya gently removed his hand and scooted further away on the bed from him. “Shane,” he started. Shane did not like the uncharacteristically nervous look on his face.

“What’s wrong, Ilya? Why won’t you touch me?” he cried out.

Ilya looked surprised at the emotion in Shane’s voice, and started to move a hand to Shane’s cheek when he stopped and placed it back in his lap. He took a breath in and out through his nose, which probably hadn’t been the best idea, judging by the way he needed to pinch it between his thumb and pointer finger immediately after. He sniffled, the sound thick and wet. “I am feeling…not great. Training camp is in two weeks. I do not want you to catch something from me.” He avoided Shane’s gaze and buried his nose back into the towel, blowing his nose with a painful-sounding honk that hit Shane right in the heart (and the dick).

Shane put a hand to Ilya’s thigh, and Ilya tensed but didn’t move. “Ilya. It’s okay. You’re sick, and I want to…take care of you,” he admitted shyly. “Even if I got sick too, two weeks is plenty of time to get over a cold. I’d be fine. We’d both be fine.” He snuck a glance at Ilya, and the softness in his boyfriend’s eyes took his breath away. “To be honest,” he continued with a little laugh, “I’ve barely even been thinking about training camp lately.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “You? Not possible.”

“I’m excited for it, of course, but…I’ve been having so much fun being with you this summer that I haven’t really been thinking about much else.” And I don’t want it to end, he thought.

Ilya’s hand grabbed his. “Me, too,” he said softly. They smiled at each other, and Shane cupped Ilya’s cheek in his palm. They still had plenty of time.

When Ilya started to nibble and lick at Shane’s neck, Shane moaned and said, “You should take some medicine for that cough.”

“Boooo! Tastes gross. Later.”

Shane made a show of rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands, but there was no hiding his wide smile. “You’re a baby.”

Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s cheek with an accompanying sniffle. “I’m your baby.”

“That,” Shane said, placing himself right in Ilya’s lap, where he always belonged, “is true. Now touch me, please, you fucking asshole.”

“Yes, I like all of these words, Mr. Bossy.” The wicked expression on Ilya’s face deserved to be painted and hung in the Louvre. Fuck the Mona Lisa, this was the real attraction people should come from far and wide to see. Michelangelo’s David come to life with cherubic golden curls and a crude grin. (Also, ahem, much larger assets.) “And then you will take good care of me?” he said, batting his lashes, blue eyes all pretty and sensual. He sniffled again and scrunched his perfect nose. Shane was so happy he could die.

——

Shane crashes the day after his first All-Star Weekend as a Centaur.

What was supposed to be silly fun has left him miserably overstimulated.

Practicing with people he’s never played with before. The unseasonable winter heat of Los Angeles that chokes him every time he goes outside, followed by the freezing cold of the airplane that takes him and Ilya back to Ottawa. The press conferences, where everyone and everything is loud and flashy and exhausting. Where reporters have been warned by the NHL to keep questions about Shane and Ilya’s relationship to a minimum but clearly want to ask about it anyway. Ilya gives them all death glares, but really, it’s the league’s fault for having a joint presser with just the two of them.

They’ve just gotten back from the airport, and Shane’s daylong headache has only gotten worse. The ache behind his right orbital bone is unceasing, leaving him squinting even behind his sunglasses. He can’t even get himself to sleep on the car ride home, trying his best to just lean against the window in such a way that the bumps of the road won’t slam his fucking head around too much. Ilya is driving, quietly, and when he puts his hand over Shane’s, Shane pulls his own away, even that small touch being too much for his oversensitive skin. Ilya keeps to himself the rest of the ride, and Shane appreciates the silence. His brain needs it.

It’s all too much right now.

“Too much?” Ilya says as they walk through the front door and Shane kicks his shoes off haphazardly, rather than stacking them neatly on the rack.

Shane looks at him even though his eyes, and his temples, are fucking screaming at him. “Mm,” he says in agreement, sniffling, then goes to curl up in the corner of the couch, trying to meld with the cushions.

Ilya goes into the kitchen, then comes back with a glass of water and some pain pills. He hands them to Shane wordlessly, then turns to leave, when Shane snags his hand.

“Stay,” he says weakly.

“You are sure?”

“Mm,” he says again. He doesn’t want to risk nodding and making his head explode.

“Okay.” Ilya sits next to him and guides Shane’s head into his lap. Shane shivers and fists his hands around his sweatshirt sleeves. Why does he switch so quickly between feeling like touch will burn him and craving constant, crushing amounts of contact?

He feels all the pain pool in the right side of his head where it rests against Ilya’s thigh, but he doesn’t care so long as he can stay like this forever. Or, for now, at least.

Ilya runs a soothing hand over his shoulder, petting him slowly and gently. Shane’s head throbs with every heartbeat. He tries to clear his mind, to ignore everything but the feeling of his husband’s big hand on him. An itch tickles his nose, and he hitches quietly into his covered hand.

“hih..ihHh! hip’schiew! hadt’choo!”

“Bud’ zdor—”

“hahIDTSCHhew! mnguhh,” Shane moans as the stronger sneeze sledgehammers a jolt of pain into his brain.

“Bud’ zdorov. Uh-oh. Sweetheart,” Ilya coos. “I know that sneeze.”

Shane is busy recovering from the feeling of stars exploding behind his eyes. “Huh?” He slurs out.

“You are getting sick,” Ilya says worriedly. “You only sneeze like that when you have a cold.”

Shane doesn’t know what to say other than, “Oh.” That last sneeze had hurt more than the others. And sure, the temperature change had made him a bit sniffly all day today. But a cold?…Hm. Well, maybe. Fuck.

Ilya resumes petting him for a bit, until Shane takes in a sharp breath that catches embarrassingly. “ah-ghHihh…!”

“Oh, Shane…”

“hadt’shuhh!”

Ilya tightens his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Bless you. One more?”

“HISHhuhh! ah’ISHhoo!”

“Oh, two,” Ilya says with surprise. “Bud’ zdorov, lyubov moya.”

“I thigk I need to lie dowd,” Shane says stuffily.

Ilya presses a kiss to the top of his head - coincidentally, right where another flare of pain has taken root. “Of course. Let’s go.”

Shane whimpers at the jostling of his head as he lifts it from Ilya’s leg, then takes Ilya’s hand. He covers his eyes with his other hand as they walk, Ilya guiding him to the guest bedroom so he doesn’t have to walk upstairs.

In bed, he snuggles under the covers and is faintly aware of Ilya padding around the room, closing the curtains and turning the fan on, leaving a box of tissues next to him. He hands him the water and pills. “Just drink, and then you can sleep, yes?”

Shane takes a small sip, then guzzles down the rest of the glass, feeling the liquid cool something in his burning head. He puts the glass down and smushes his face into his pillow, sleepily rubbing a little at his nose. “Thagk you,” he mumbles out.

I love reading all your fics so much so thank u 🫶

Thank you for this request <3 I’m combining this with another request for allergic!Ilya from @chaoticghostgremlin :) I had a HUGE idea for this one but it was getting too complicated and angsty and OOC for my liking, so I turned it into silly snz smut instead. 🤣 Am I embarrassed? A little. Am I gonna go hide after this? Probably. Honestly idek if I’m any good at writing sex scenes but screw it (heh), it’s fun and I enjoy doing it! Stole a “lube” idea from @snifflybabe but kinda chickened out on it lmao

——

Very Stupid and Irresponsible (H/eated R/ivalry, Ilya)

“How could we let this happen?” “We were both very stupid and irresponsible.” - Heated Rivalry, 1x06

Sorry, Ilyukha, this one’s all on you. Also, Canada, I am screaming at this. Pick a lane, eh? ;) <3

Prompt fills 💛 (pollen) and 💜 (lavender) from @heleniumx’s color list (sorry to taint it with this filth LMAO). VERY nsfw. Feat. kink! and honeymoon rhinitis!Shane. -4k words

cw: some mess

——

On May 10th - Shane’s birthday - Ilya made a very spontaneous, very idiotic decision.

The Centaurs were currently in the second round of the playoffs against Colorado. After playing their first two games on home ice, they were due to ship out to Denver tomorrow morning. Ilya and Shane had obviously never been on the same team during the playoffs, but Shane was acting exactly as Ilya had expected he would - singularly focused on winning the Cup, relentless in the gym, playing back video of their opponents’ special teams tactics over and over between bites of meals, pushing himself pushing himself pushing himself. Ilya knew that Shane was extra obsessive in his pursuit now that the two of them were playing together - and Ilya was certainly no less passionate about his desire to win with, and for, his husband.

Lately, though, there’d been far too many nights where Ilya had needed to coax Shane out of their media room, or off the stationary bike, or away from the Centaurs’ practice rink, and into bed for a good night’s rest. He wasn’t positive that Shane was sleeping well at all, though it was difficult to tell thanks to how spectacularly well he was performing on the ice, with two goals and an assist in the last game alone. He was en fuego, as the analysts loved to say, sure, but peak performance came at a cost. Ilya didn’t even think Shane would have remembered today was his birthday if Ilya hadn’t been there to wake him by wishing him a good day and giving him a kiss. The first thing Shane had said in response was, “Flight’s at 9 tomorrow, so we’ll have to be home from my parents’ early tonight.”

Ilya loved hockey. He wanted to play in the NHL into his forties, if possible. He was determined, a born leader, a great teammate, someone who loved to win and hated to lose. Plus, he was really, really fucking good at the game, one of the top two players in the entire goddamn world, the other just so happening to be the man he shared his entire life with. But even Ilya Rozanov had his limits, and he was worried that Shane was going to reach his own. He could burn out, get the flu, injure himself, or suffer any number of other misfortunes if he didn’t give himself proper care. If Ilya could do anything to help prevent that from happening, he would.

So when Ilya went to pick up the desserts he was bringing over to David and Yuna’s later tonight and passed by a local florist on the way back to his car, he realized that, well…there was at least one way he could help Shane.

Ilya did a quick mental calculation. They had to be at Shane’s parents’ at 6. It was 3:30. If he could time this well enough…

…Fuck it. Ilya was thinking with his dick, not his brain, at this point, which was honestly true most of the time when it came to Shane. He took a breath and prepared himself to step into the lion’s den.

Ilya entered the shop and immediately regretted it. It was as if someone had sprayed perfume directly into his nostrils, which began to quiver with the onslaught of pollen attacking them. Fuckfuckfuck, this was a bad idea. The arrangements were stunning, but all Ilya could see were little allergy bombs. He was going to have to make a decision, and quickly, lest he scare this poor small business owner, who was greeting him with a little “welcome!”, with a ferocious sneezing attack. He raised a hand as a hello, then covered his nose with it as he scanned the shop, landing on a little bouquet of pretty purple flowers.

Lavender - symbolizes purity, calmness, serenity, said the mini chalkboard next to it.

Ilya smiled through his watering eyes. Calmness and serenity. Perfect. Exactly what Shane needed. Purity…well, that one had gone out the window a long time ago. Ilya picked the lavender up anyway, giving the florist a $50 note and telling her to keep the change. He power-walked out of the shop holding the neck of his dark t-shirt to his nose, and managed to make it into his car without incident. Once he closed the door, however…

“haah! ha’ahh? haAASHHhhoo! AAESSHHHhh! hy’YESCHHooo!…oh, fuck…” Ilya reached into his jeans pockets, which was ridiculous because of course there were no tissues in there, before opening the glove compartment. Slava bogu, a mini pack of Kleenex. Thank you, baby, Ilya thought about his husband before blowing his nose with a loud honk. Fuck, if he was already this affected…

Well. He supposed Shane had better be prepared tonight.

Ilya was exiting the parking lot when his car’s touchscreen lit up with a phone call. Yuna Hollander.

Shit.

After a quick series of short blows to further clear his nose, Ilya tossed the tissue to the side and answered. “Hi, Yuna.”

“Ilya, hi,” Yuna said. “I’m going to the store in a little bit. Is there anything you’d like? Munchies or anything?”

Ilya smiled. Even though it had been years since he’d been adopted into the beautiful Hollander family, he was often still amazed at the tightness of their little unit, a place where love flowed freely, and where snacks were purchased. “No, thank you, I am okay.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Text me if you need anything. I’ll make sure to get you some ice cream, though. Shane...he can forage for his own berries or something.”

Ilya laughed, swiping at his nose, which was already growing tickly again. He glanced at the bouquet on the seat next to him, then cracked the windows a little to let in some air. Hopefully Yuna could still hear him. “Thank you, Yuna. I bought a fruit tart, maybe he will have some of that.”

“Right, we can only try. Did you see the Dallas-Jersey game last night? That was nuts. Nilsson got high-sticked in the mouth three times! His teeth must be destroyed, not that he had many left to lose—”

“ngkxht! -ngkkt! hh…hDXGKT!”

“Oh, bless you!”

“Ah, hgkm, thank you,” Ilya said with an itchy clearing of his throat. Shit. He was lucky it wasn’t such a long ride home. He felt absolutely coated in pollen, and he’d only been in the shop for, what, five minutes? And of course, his breath was hitching again.

“hy’IDKT! -hghxt! HNGKT-uhh!” Fuck.

“Bless you! Are you all right, honey? You’re not getting sick, are you?! The playoffs—”

“No, no, I am okay. It’s just, um, allergies.” Ilya felt his face grow very hot. No matter how well he knew Yuna and David, admitting any kind of vulnerability around them was…well, it was awkward. Not that they cared - Ilya knew they loved him regardless of his shortcomings, something that certainly could not have been said of his biological family after his mother had passed.

But Ilya would rather go back to Russia than talk to Yuna about his sneezing right now.

He could literally hear her frown through the phone. “Oh no! The pollen count’s been really high lately. I hope you don’t feel too bad tonight, Ilya.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I will just…take something for it at home.” His face was growing hot.

“Okay. Wait, are you driving?! Be careful, sweetheart, don’t drive if you’re sneezing!”

“Ah, all good here, I’m pulling into driveway,” he said, instantly feeling terrible for lying to her. He was only about three minutes away from home, but still. He could feel the tip of his nose begin to tingle and he did not feel like having a full-blown sneeze attack on the phone with his mother-in-law. But he also didn’t want to be rude and hang up on her out of nowhere, especially because she would absolutely call back and ask what had happened. And anyway, the road was clear…mostly. He pressed a finger hard beneath his nose to quell the tingling sensation. It helped a little.

“Okay, good. Take some meds and drink some water, okay? Big game tomorrow. See you later, love you.”

“Luhh…love you too,” Ilya hitched out, frantically tapping the “end call” button, and just as he stopped at a red light he cupped his hands to his face and—

“ha’ihh! iHh? ihhiHIhh?…hah…”

—Nothing. Just some useless hitchy breaths. What the fuck?

The hitching continued even after he parked, including when he had to stop in the middle of walking up the driveway, one hand holding the lavender and the other hovering in midair, as he hitched and hitched and his eyes filled with tears. He managed to snap out of his sneezy trance long enough to open the front door, upper body finally snapping towards the ground with a—

“HY’AAASSHHhhhooo!”

The enormous sneeze rang through the room; the soft sounds he’d heard coming from the kitchen died, shocked into silence. Through his half-open eyes as he gasped towards another sneeze Ilya could see Shane and Anya’s heads poking out from around the corner, twin expressions of surprise on their sweet faces.

Ilya braced his hands on his thighs as two more sneezes barreled out of him. “HAESSHHHhuhh! HAAHSHHhooo!”

He heard footsteps, then felt a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades as he sneezed harshly towards the carpet. “Bless you, bless you, bless you! Jesus Christ, Ilya, are you okay?” Shane’s touch ignited something in Ilya, making him smile a little and reminding him of why he was subjecting himself to this ridiculous, fantastic torture.

Ilya held the flowers up to his husband’s dumbfounded face as allergic tears began cascading down his cheeks. “Hhhappy birthday, Shade,” he said, proudly and stuffily.

Shane gaped at him. “I…what? Ilya, why do you have flowers? Are…” His big brown eyes widened in realization as Ilya leaned in and started to nuzzle into his neck with little kisses and sniffles.

“I thought I would give you your first present early, lyubimyy,” Ilya purred, nosing beneath Shane’s henley tee to lick at his collarbone.

“Oh my god,” Shane hissed into his ear, gripping Ilya’s shoulders tightly as Ilya continued to explore him, “are you insane? We have to be at my parents’ in like an hour and a half!”

“Mm, yes. I will be cured by then,” Ilya promised with a big scrunch of his nose. Shane did not look at all convinced by that statement.

“That’s not how allergies fucking w-work…ohh…” Shane’s protests turned to soft moans as Ilya snuffled and ground his nose back and forth into the divot between Shane’s pecs. When he pulled away, there was a small spot of wetness left behind on his shirt. Shane was transfixed by the sight, a pink flush creeping up from his neck all the way to his forehead, and Ilya took his chance to walk Shane backward until his legs hit the back of the couch. He gave his best pouty eyes and lips - something he knew never failed to make his husband weak for him - and ran a hand beneath his leaking nose.

“I have to sneeze so badly, and I need some relief, Shane,” he said, gesturing back towards the lavender bouquet. “Will you help me, sweetheart?” He grazed his mouth over Shane’s ear and sniffled wetly. “My nose is so itchy…”

“I…Ilya…” Shane gasped as Ilya tangled his fingers in his dark hair and covered his neck in open-mouthed kisses. Shane managed to gain control, grabbing Ilya’s face between his hands and wiping away a tear as it slipped down the tip of his burning nose. Fuck, Ilya was going to really start sneezing soon…and he couldn’t fucking wait. “Are you okay? Is it too much? We can stop if it’s too much,” Shane said hastily, breathily, looking both worried and very horny, running his hands over Ilya’s chest, his back, his shoulders, down past his stomach, fingertips grazing just beneath his jeans. Poor confused boy just needed to touch. Ilya growled and picked Shane up in response, hauling him into the guest bedroom down the hall. Just as he made it towards the bed, the intense roar of another itch clawed its way to life into his sinuses, and Ilya made sure to safely deposit Shane onto the mattress before he—

“HAESZCHHHhhh! HAADT’SCHUHhh! HDT’GYISHHhhooo!” He sneezed openly, making sure that Shane could see every desperate microexpression on his face, then opened his eyes to the sight of Shane tearing off his shirt, jeans and boxers, which were darkened with pre-cum. He looked hard and wet and wanting, and Ilya couldn’t wait to have a taste. But first…

Ilya gave a thick -snrff- to stop his nose from leaking. “Oh, Shade, I need some help,” he whined, making sure to emphasize his husband’s name as he rubbed a finger just beneath his nostrils and batted his eyelashes at him. Shane stilled immediately, eyes drawn to Ilya’s nose as if hypnotized. “My dose is so stuffy, please, will you get me a tissue, hodey?”

Shane dove towards the nightstand with an athleticism and rapaciousness that made Ilya crack up. He pulled several tissues out of a box and crawled his way back towards Ilya, looking a little bashful as if he hadn’t done this many times before, often at Ilya’s insistence. Ilya knew just how much Shane loved to take care of his nose. How much he loved to smear Vaseline over it when he had a cold, how much he loved to kiss (and occasionally nip at) it, how much he loved to hold tissues to it and rub his back as he cleared out his congestion. It made Ilya feel…special, really. Deeply loved. Cherished.

On his knees on the bed, Shane was slightly lower than Ilya, who bent his head down a little to give Shane better access. Shane held the tissues gently yet firmly to his nose. “Blow,” he commanded, and Ilya obeyed, letting out another loud honk as he did so. And Shane shivered.

“Fuck, love that sound,” he moaned. “Love you.”

“Love you. What do you need, Shane?”

Shane looked deeply into Ilya’s eyes. “I need you to fuck me.” His voice was husky with need. His face said, destroy me.

“I will, sweetheart. But first…” Ilya held up a finger, then darted out of the room and brought back the flowers. Shane looked like he was about to start drooling.

Ilya held the lavender close to his face, which involuntarily and wholeheartedly scrunched at the fragrant scent. “I have never seen such beautiful flowers,” he said. “If I wasn’t afraid of giving the florist a heart attack, I would have smelled each one to see which made me sneeze the most for you.”

“Ilya,” Shane moaned weakly, voice high and broken. He started to move his hand downwards, but Ilya shook his head.

“No. You don’t get to touch yourself yet. That is for me,” he gestured at Shane’s leaking dick. Then, not caring that he might regret it later, he held the flowers to his nose and took a deep inhale. His head jerked back, and he released a few itchy coughs before tossing the lavender aside and pinning Shane down to the bed. The image of Shane’s awed and aroused face would be burned into Ilya’s memory forever. But right now, he wasn’t thinking of anything but the precarious tickle in his nose.

“hih! hih, ihh, IYHhh, hYIHhh…!”

Ilya buried his face in Shane’s neck. “haAAASHHh! -HRISHHHhuhh! hrRUSHHhhhoo!” Shane cried out and oh, god, Ilya could feel the pulse of the other man’s racing heartbeat against his nose.

“HY’ESCHHhh! hyeh, ehHhh, ESCHHhhh! eshh-esHhh-ESHhhhoo!” The sneezes were getting more rapid, more intense. Ilya felt them in his chest as they yelled their way out of them. Clearly, his past smoking habit hadn’t affected his lungs too much.

After a spraying “YESCHHhhoo!” against Shane’s chest, Shane grabbed the lube he’d conveniently placed on the pillow next to him and warmed it in his hands, but just as he started to reach for Ilya’s cock, Ilya dipped his head downward between them with a softer, no less wet “AESHhhoo!”

“There,” he said with a wink and a sniffle. “More lube.”

“If you don’t get in me in the next five seconds I am going to snap your neck,” Shane growled.

“Mm, so bossy. Well, is your special day.” Ilya pushed Shane back against the blankets and entered him, reveling in Shane’s ecstatic yips and whines. “Moy ángel,” he murmured with another hitching breath. He started to gasp, overwhelmed with the dual sensation of filling Shane up while also needing to sneeze out the pollen in his nose, and momentarily paused in his thrusting. Shane took the opportunity to change their positions, moving to sit in Ilya’s lap. Ilya went along with the motions as he stuttered out, “hn’yehh…ehh-!”

Shane started bouncing as Ilya’s head surged downward once more. “haashh-aashh-AESHHhh!”

“Fuck!” Shane rode Ilya for dear life, gripping his shoulders so hard that he knew that there would be bruises tomorrow — maybe he could convince the boys that he was trying cupping therapy — abs clenching with the fluid movements of his body rolls. Ilya appreciatively watched his husband’s moves reach Magic Mike terrritory, then gave a great snort against his revolting sinuses. At the sound, Shane raised his head from where it’d been pressed against Ilya’s collarbone and just stared at his nose, and Ilya made another snuffly noise and scrunched the appendage dramatically, adding a little wink for good measure. Shane devoured his mouth with delicious uninhibited moans as Ilya drove into him harder, faster, deeper—just as his nose began to itch again and he buried it into his husband’s chest—

“AD’JYISH’HHHhhoo! HAAAHHhhshuhh! HAAH-AHH-SHOOO!”

Shane screamed as loudly as Ilya had ever heard him. “IlyaIlyaIlyaILYA oh GOD I’m coming—”

Shane came spectacularly over both of their stomachs. He continued to cry out as he rode through his orgasm, taking huge heaving gasps into Ilya’s chest as Ilya released inside of him. They clutched each other for a while, and then Ilya pulled out, rubbing his nose in squelching circles with his palm, surprised that it was taking Shane so long to—

In a flash, Shane grabbed some tissues out of the box and held them in his cupped hands. “hy’ischhh! -ihshhiew! shhiew! hy’eschhuhh! -eshhoo! ESHhiew!”

“Bud’ zdorov—”

“ehh-hiew! ischhuh! ISHhhuhh! hy’ISCHhuhh! ishh-ishh-ishhuhh!”

“Wow. Bless you.” Ilya rubbed Shane’s back as the rapid little sneezes took over his body. “This is a lot for you. You must be very satisfied.”

Shane thoroughly blew his nose and gave Ilya a pointed look. “No shit, asshole.” The words couldn’t have been said in a gentler tone.

“Good. I am here to make the birthday boy happy.” Ilya gave Shane a shit-eating grin, but then Shane reached over to give him a soft, chaste little kiss, and he thought his heart might stop. “You do,” Shane said softly, reverence clear in his voice. “Thank you. I love you.”

“Я влюбился в тебя с первого взгляда,” Ilya replied.

Shane’s face scrunched up adorably in concentration as he attempted to translate what Ilya had said. Then his eyes widened, and he grinned, and a beautiful pink flush spread over his cheeks. “So did I,” he breathed.

Ilya brushed his thumb over the length of his husband’s straight sniffly nose, still sniffling himself - he needed a tissue yesterday. He thought back to the moment when Shane — quiet, reserved, oft-aloof — had first approached Ilya, like he was greeting a friend rather than the man the entire hockey world had pitted him against before they were even drafted. He’d looked so cute, bundled up against the cold weather, smiling and politely offering a hand to shake, his striking freckles immediately catching Ilya’s eye. And here he was now, just as fucking cute, sweaty and spent and staring at Ilya like he was something precious. He offered Ilya the much-needed tissue box and Ilya blew loudly, Shane giving an “mmm” of appreciation and stretching out his limbs. He checked his phone. “Oh fuck, we have to leave in an hour.”

“Is that not enough time to do your hair or something?”

“Fuck you. You’re a mess.” Shane’s brown eyes looked worried as he searched Ilya’s face. Ilya knew he looked terrible, if the soreness in his sinuses and the heat of his nose and the wetness of his eyes were any indication. But god damn, did he feel amazing. There was nothing quite like being loved and worshipped by Shane Hollander. “Are you feeling up to go out tonight? Because we can stay home. Oh, and bless you, by the way, like a thousand times.”

“Thank you. I’ll be fine.” His eye was itching a little, too, but he resisted the urge to rub it. “As long as I get to shower with my sweet Shane so he can get all this pollen off of me.”

Shane tucked a curl behind Ilya’s ear, then kissed his nose. “Okay, but we have to be quick.”

“No sneezy blowjobs, do you mean?”

Shane paused and bit his lip so hard it started to turn white. For a moment Ilya thought he was going to text his parents and cancel, but then he let out a slow breath through gritted teeth. “I…fuck. No. We have to go.”

“Okay. Next time.” Shane swallowed, eyes huge, and Ilya found that he was already planning ‘next time.’ Although that ‘next time’ was less likely to come out of thoughtful planning; it was much more likely that Ilya’s fucked-up nose would just act up out of nowhere. No matter how it happened, he would make sure that Shane would have the best time.

Shane had once admitted to Ilya that he’d planned on taking the secret of his attraction to sneezing to the grave…

“…but then I heard you sneeze for the first time, and…fuck, I couldn’t control it, and you fucking knew right away.” Shane’s gaze was averted and he was beet red, but a tiny shy smile was playing out on his lips.

Ilya put an arm around Shane’s shoulders and kissed his warm cheek. “I always know what gets you turned on. You have a very obvious tell.”

Shane turned to look at him, curious. “I do? What is it?”

Ilya kissed his cheek again. “Your dick gets hard.”

Shane pushed Ilya away as the Russian started to laugh. “Fuck you.”

…And Ilya was happy that he could indulge his husband’s deepest fantasies. Lord knew that Shane fulfilled all of his. Even the ones he had no idea he was fulfilling, like when he bent over to put the laundry in the washing machine, or when he wore only his glasses, boxers and a Team Canada sweatshirt while reading in bed.

Ilya would wonder when he became such a sap, but truly, he knew the answer: the moment he had first laid eyes on Shane Hollander.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Shane hugged him tightly. “Thank you. God, you’re the best. Let’s get washed off so you feel better.” Shane pulled Ilya’s still-drippy face in for a deeper kiss, then took him by the hand to lead him to the bathroom. Before they could leave the bedroom, however, Shane’s phone buzzed with a text. He checked it, and his face went bright red. “…Uhhh, Ilya?”

“Hm?”

“Why is my mom asking me if you’ve taken a Claritin today?”

Ilya blushed too. “Oh. Um. Long story. Come on, let’s shower, we do not want to be late.” With that, he led his confused baby boy far away from his phone.

——