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nametakensff · 3 months

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Revelation (D/isco E/lysium, M/M)

Okay. Follow up fic to 'Suggestible'! two of three down - this one ended up at 5.6K

H/arry remembers that he has a certain interest in sneezing after K/im has an allergic reaction to dust

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Content:

M/M (one-sided so far), past M/F, cold sneezes, sneezing from dust allergies, sympathetic sneezes, H/arry has a sneezing fetish, spray, stifles, sneezing into handkerchiefs, masturbation, PIV sex (past), sneezing while hiding, sneezing into someone's hand, little bit of voyeurism, embarrassment/humiliation, H/arry lowkey realises he is bisexual

CW: drug and alcohol mentions, self-hatred, H/arry is a general mess

NB - like the last fic, please don't read if you plan on playing the game and don't want certain elements of it spoiled!

NSFW af, Minors DNI Please!

“…etective. Detective. Harry.”

You stir, groaning as a soft voice awakens you from another restless sleep. Looking up, you see Lieutenant Kitsuragi sitting on the edge of your bed. He looks down at you – he does not smile, but his face is patient and calm. You realise that he has been gently jostling your shoulder, and the motion combined with his voice has pulled you out of the inky depths of primordial slumber. The one bleary eye you have opened locks with one of his own – now he smiles at you. It is a warm smile.

“Finally, you’re awake. I was starting to think no amount of shaking would stir you.”

He sounds amused. You struggle to remember why the Lieutenant is sat here, in your room, waking you up like a personal alarm clock. The arrangement these past few days had been to meet downstairs in the morning. An explanation for the change eludes you.

“How are you feeling?”

You groan. A garbling, miserable and melodramatic groan like a recalcitrant teenager being roused for school. The Lieutenant’s warm expression darkens ever so slightly. He sighs.

“That bad, hm? I was hoping some sleep would do you good, but…”

He trails off, looking troubled. You blink, stupidly, and focus all your might in an attempt to remember. It seems to be all you ever do these days. This time, however, your alcohol-pickled brain actually pulls through. A nap. You’ve been catching a cold, and it had finally proved too much for you. Kim said that he would wake you up. It all comes flooding back at once – including the graphic and picture-perfect memory of Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi sneezing. Just thinking about the sight and sound of it begins to rouse you more than a cup of the strongest, most bitter coffee the hostel has to offer could ever manage.

You feel suddenly, entirely insecure. You had been sneezing – loudly, frequently, all over the place. As you push yourself up in bed, you fight to suppress a blush. Kim stands and regards you behind his glasses, offering an outstretched hand. You look up at him and accept it, letting him pull you to your feet. He is stronger than you expected for his lithe, slender build. Your wrist seems almost twice as thick as his own. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised in question as he takes in your burning face.

“Detective, do you have a fever?”

Fuck. Nice one, Harry. You manage to compose yourself. It’s just the hangover, you tell him. He looks only partially convinced.

“Right. If you say so.”

The raised eyebrow stays there, and he shrugs almost imperceptibly. You head into the bathroom and quickly splash your face with water – from the bathtub faucet. The sink remains irreparably damaged as a result of your drug-fuelled bender. Over the sound of the water, you tell the Lieutenant you’re feeling much better – and it’s true. The tickle appears to have receded to more of a low-grade buzz. The cold sea air had clearly irritated you something fierce. After your nap, you can tell that you are still unwell – but it is minor, and certainly doesn’t make you feel much worse than you already did before.

“That’s good, detective. I’m glad to hear it.”

Kim smiles at you as you walk back into the bedroom. He means it, as well. Relief is practically plastered on his face. He would very much like to return to the case. You want to return to it yourself – get this fucking mess over with and remember who you are so that you can decide whether to drink yourself into oblivion or not.

Lieutenant Kitsuragi tells you that he will meet you on the ground floor in a matter of minutes – he needs to retrieve some things from his room. You go ahead and stand awkwardly near the bar once you’re downstairs – far enough away that you do not have to look Garte in the eye. You suddenly feel the tickle threatening to return. You press one forefinger firmly under your flaring nostrils – miraculously, this works. You do not sneeze, although you feel as though you soon might.

Kim joins you and the pair of you make your way outside. The Lieutenant lets you lead. You have a few ideas of where you ought to go next – you will try Klaasje later this evening, after a few more affairs. But first, you feel the need to empower yourself. You are tired of feeling like a loser. You refuse to submit to the cold in your nose. You are not the kind of man to let physical suffering beat you down – emotional, no doubt. But physically, you are stalwart. You are a fitness king – or, you have feeling you used to be, despite the unfortunate beer gut. You don’t know where this thought comes from, but you know it to be true. You remember the abandoned gym in the doomed commercial area – especially that heavily weighted barbell. It beckons to you and your machismo. You feel like you should be able to lift it – no, you can lift it. You will lift it. You jog ahead, leading Kim en route through the bookshop. You ignore the wary glances Plaisance directs towards you, clutching the totem at her neck as if you yourself are one of the evil spirits she so fears.

You walk into the gym. Dust motes spin and spiral through the air in the rays of the setting sun. They seem almost to dance as even the slightest motion of movement stirs them. You stride towards the weights. As you look down at them, positioning your feet in an optimum stance, your ears perk up at a small sound. It isn’t terribly loud, but it is intrusive in the otherwise silent room. You realise with a mixture of pleasure and dismay that Kim is sniffling. You want to look at his face so badly. You want to watch his nostrils twitch and flare. You still don’t understand these desires. With all your effort, you fight the urge to stare and wrap your palms around the cool metal of the barbell, gripping it tight.

Now this feels familiar. This feels practiced. You feel your muscles coil and tense in preparation of the lift. It is exhilarating. You take one last breath, and - you’re doing it! You’re lifting the weights above your head with nary a tremble. Perfect form. You are a muscle god.

You eventually drop the weights with a solid thud – they almost bounce on the floor, a testament to how heavy they are. The floor, caked so heavily in dust that the original colouring is almost imperceptible, shudders with the disturbance. Two clouds of dust arise, the plumes quickly dissipating into the surrounding air. The dancing dust motes spiral faster in the beams of light.

You look towards Kim with a cocky grin. Yes, Lieutenant. How do you like those apples? You are delighted to see that his lips have quirked up in a slight smile of admiration.

“Impressive form, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor.”

He uses your full title – a sign of respect. And you have earned it, buddy. You are the man. You feel confidence surging through you. You are going to solve this case. You’re going to solve this case so hard. You allow yourself to stand there a second longer, hands on hips and chest puffed out. It feels good to bask. Your morale soars.

“Okay, whilst that was definitely something, we should get ba-hh! Back t’to-!”

Your eyes are fixed on the Lieutenant at once. Those earlier sniffles appear to have done very little to quell whatever irritation is plaguing him. It dawns on you as you stare openly at Kim – the way his expression crumples, mouth opening in a yawn of irritation and eyes squinting closed – that it is incredibly dusty in this room. You had noticed this, of course – but what you did not notice, so distracted by your own drive to flex some serious muscle, was the effect it was having on your fellow officer. But you’ve noticed now. You continue to stare, watching as the Lieutenant falls to pieces in front of you.

A soft gasp graces the air as Lieutenant Kitsuragi inhales one final breath to fuel his sneezing. As before, he contracts into the protective half-cover of a raised fist. It is just far enough away from his face that you can still make out the flare of his nostrils, the way his mouth clamps stubbornly shut as the sneeze rocks his slender frame. He does it again, in just the same fashion as the first.

“hH’Ddt’ch!! H’Ngxttch!!”

Oh, but they sound so tickly. He has managed to bite them into submission – something that you find yourself continuously impressed by. This time, however, it sounds as though he is barely keeping it together. The furrowing of his brow and the clench in his jaw bely the intense effort he has to put into maintaining even this small amount of composure. Your mouth is dry in moments, and your stomach flips. You don’t think that even a gunshot could pull you out of your mesmerised gawking.

“Hohhh…”

Kim straightens up with a shuddering exhalation. Whilst he is finished for the moment, you see that he keeps a crooked finger pressed under his damp, twitching nostrils. It looks as though he will sneeze again very soon. You swallow – it is more of an audible gulp. You fight off another blush. These intense physical reactions require constant and taxing damage control. He squeezes his eyes shut, hard, then blinks reflexively several times. You notice that the whites of his eyes are suddenly quite pink. Bloodshot. By the looks of it, the Lieutenant is irrevocably, terribly allergic to dust. You try not to swoon as the realisation dawns on you.

“My apologies, detective. I’m allergic to the dust. It’s not normally this bad, but-!”

His expression crumples all at once. You continue to stare at him, ears burning as your mind loops this enticing confession, spoken with such dismay and desperation in the Lieutenant’s sultry accent. You cannot look away from the flared ellipses of his nostrils. The angry stretch of them is almost unrecognisable from their resting state. It is captivating.

The Lieutenant suddenly spins round, facing away from you. You are disappointed, and then deeply worried at the depths of this disappointment. You bury these thoughts and allow yourself to watch Kim’s shuddering back as he sneezes two more times.

“Hhupt’TSCHhh’uu!! HahDD’TZSCHHhht!!”

You cannot help yourself – you utter a small grunt as the sound of those unrestrained sneezes sucker punch you in the gut. You did not have to see the Lieutenant’s face to know they had been somewhat…productive. The spraying sound of them conjures the image of a fine aerosol bursting out from between Kim’s clenched teeth. You wish you could feel that spray on your skin.

Wait. What?

What the fuck??

All at once, it dawns on you. You like this. You like sneezing. Sneezing makes your cock hard. Sneezing makes you cum.

Of all the things to remember, why this? And why now? The Lieutenant is righting himself with an exhausted sigh. To your delight, you also hear him mutter an angry little ‘fuck’ under his breath.

Okay, Harry. You need to pull yourself together. You are moments away from sporting a solid erection the likes of which this world has never seen. Kim is an expert detective, and he will put two and two together immediately. You have to distract yourself. You try and think of Garte in lingerie. You try and think of dead puppies. House fires. World hunger.

These attempts to steer your mind away from this shocking revelation fail. Miserably. Your head is flooded with memories, coming at you one after another after another. You remember fucking her – you don’t remember who she is, just that it is her. You remember your sex, sometimes fumbling and over all too soon, sometimes languid and god-damn transcendental. You know, somehow, that you did not tell her about it. The sneezing thing. But you remember the sensation of her pussy contracting around your cock as she sneezed beautifully, all over your shoulder and catching the side of your face. You remember coming in luxurious waves, groaning loudly enough to make her jump before she was coming herself, gasping as you continued to fuck her right through it.

That memory used to be a fond one, you sense. An often revisited one as you took your cock in hand. Right now, it causes nothing but blinding pain – and an unfortunate erection. You thank whatever powers that may be that you decided to wear your long RCM patrol coat.

Even as you flounder, attempting to process the emotional pain these returning fragments of the past inflict upon you, your aching heart pounding in your chest – you watch as the Lieutenant yanks his handkerchief from his pocket and sneezes into it.

“hH-MPTschhh!! Ohh, mon dieu…”

He shudders with it. You hear the incredulity in his voice once the sneeze has torn its way through him, violently jostling him with its all-encompassing power. He is just as surprised by his own nuclear reaction to the dust as you are. This only makes your traitorous erection grow harder. You grit your teeth.

Another sneeze from the Lieutenant finally urges you to move. Do something, say anything, for the love of God. Kim is recovering from the sneeze, gasping into the handkerchief he clutches desperately to his face like a lifeline. You realise he will only continue to sneeze and sneeze if you do not get him out of this dusty death trap of a room. What you really want to do is unzip the fly of your trousers and go to town as the Lieutenant puts on a show for you. This is the stupidest thought you have had all day.

You make up your mind. Precariously holding the Tare bag in front of your straining trousers, you march up to the Lieutenant and wrap your arm around his slender waist, standing hip to hip. He understands instinctively that you are coming to his rescue; he reaches with one shaky arm to grip at the fabric of your coat between your shoulder blades. You tell him you’re getting him out of here, and to hold on tight.

He nods and attempts to apologise but is interrupted by yet another sneeze. He had foolishly lowered his handkerchief to address you and is unable to catch it in time. It is upon him so quickly that he only just manages to turn away from you. You shouldn’t be watching him, not if you want to gain some element of control over your burgeoning hard-on. But you do anyway. You see the cloud of delicate spray glitter briefly in the rays of sunlight before dissipating just as quickly as it appeared. You somehow manage not to cum in your pants and start guiding the Lieutenant out of the dusty gym, out of the bookshop. You gruffly mutter over your shoulder to an inquiring Plaisance that you have the situation under control. You are irritated that she called out to you at all – you do not want Kim to be more embarrassed than the flushed tips of his ears indicate he already is.

You manage to march him towards his Kineema as he continues to sneeze, opening the door for him and sitting him down while he recovers. You rub his back for a moment. He does not offer any resistance. The dust was definitely the source of his suffering, if you needed any further confirmation. (You did not.) He is already winding down, his breathing returning to normal. He is now able to take in measured breaths that do not immediately trigger further sneezes. You regard him in this sorry state. You think that a few days ago, when you first met the Lieutenant, it might have pleased you to see such a chink in his armour. But now, you feel no such enjoyment. You are happy that with the winding down of sneezes, so too has your erection wilted. The Lieutenant clears his throat. You stand awkwardly and wait for him to speak.

“I’m so sorry, detective.”

The embarrassment makes his voice thick. Or maybe it’s the congestion. Either way, you are saddened to hear it. You assure him that he has nothing to apologise for. You cannot bring yourself to bless him right now. You ask him how he is feeling. He sighs and removes his glasses. His eyes are overflowing with allergic tears. He swipes them away with the edge of one gloved finger.

“Much better now that we are out of there. That was really…something.”

It sure fucking was, you think. You ask him why he didn’t tell you he was allergic. You never would have dragged him back there, you insist. You sound embarrassingly emotional. Pull yourself together, Harry.

“It’s okay, really. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t think it would matter. I don’t normally react quite so – obtrusively.”

He blows his nose in the handkerchief. The productive sound of it makes you squirm.

“Sorry, again. I wonder if I’m coming down with your cold after all.”

Fuck. You cannot stand to hear him talk like that. The thought of the Lieutenant sneezing helplessly from a cold in his nose is so erotic you almost moan. This is insane. You can hardly believe it is happening. Luckily, Lieutenant Kitsuragi is too pre-occupied tending to his nose to notice your discomfort. In a few quick moments, he is climbing out of the Kineema and standing beside you on the road. You marvel at his capability to get his shit together in such a small matter of time. It is a talent all on its own.

You suddenly wonder again at the intensity of the Lieutenant’s allergic reaction. You have both wandered round the dusty interior of the doomed commercial district several times before, and you didn’t hear so much as a sniffle from your partner. Although your weightlifting efforts uprooted a great deal of dust in the gym, it didn’t stand to reason that Kim hadn’t been exposed to just as much cumulatively over a longer period of time prior. You know you shouldn’t invite further conversation regarding the topic – not when you have only just managed to calm your enthusiastic genitals. You know this.

Why didn’t you react that way yesterday, you ask anyway - we were in there for longer, and you seemed fine.

“It’s an interesting point, honestly. I’m not too sure I understand it myself.”

He seems just as curious as you – it’s endearing on him, that inquisitive expression. His pink nose is unbearably cute. You choose one of his eyes to focus on instead and don’t look away.

“I’m probably still sensitive from earlier today. Sneezing begets more sneezing. The dust was just my limit.”

An excellent deduction from the Lieutenant. Your cock threatens to twitch in your pants. You manage to offer a soft, companionable laugh in return. You joke that it is nice to be offering support for once instead of receiving it. You only consider after you’ve spoken that this might offend Lieutenant KItsuragi. You hold your breath. He smiles at you and offers a friendly, breathy laugh of his own. Your heart flutters in your chest. It is okay. You have avoided a sexual crisis and seemingly improved your relationship with Kim. This is good.

“This reminds me of an experience I had right at the start of my Lieutenancy.”

Oh, god. So now he chooses to open up to you. You had thought you were out of the woods, but no dice. Unlike earlier in the day, the Lieutenant now actively wants to discuss his sneezing with you. You wonder if breaking as spectacularly as he did in front of you has removed any hesitancy to call attention to his nasal sensitivity. You want to cut him off. Quick - spin around and shout at some unknown entity in alarm! Distract him!

You are too late. He is disclosing this story to you whether you like it or not.

“I was assigned to a case with a previous partner, around 4 years ago now. We were tasked with infiltrating and shutting down a local narcotics ring. It wasn’t an especially prodigious one, but certainly difficult enough to penetrate that we spent months gaining the trust of some lower-level ring members. We finally managed to gain entry to one of the main buildings of their organisation. My partner secured an electronic key card for us to return in the evening.”

You nod your head as you listen. Okay. This is a standard police story. Nothing of note. Yet.

“We managed to sneak in undetected – but the building was not as empty as we had previously been led to believe. We were foolish to think it would be as unguarded as our connection had informed us, but anyway. We heard footsteps behind us – and saw the light of a torch skimming across the wall near our heads. We had to find somewhere to hide right away – we stupidly were not wearing bulletproof vests, another terrible mistake. There was a room to our immediate left and the door was unlocked.”

You swallow. You think you can sense what is coming next.

“It turns out this room was a small storage closet – and a very unkempt one at that. There was barely enough room for us to stand beside each other amongst the shelves. It was more of a one-man only space.”

God. You watch as he smiles ruefully at the memory. You are almost sweating with anticipation.

“We had no choice but to stand chest to chest. He was a little taller than I, luckily not too big – otherwise the squeeze would have been painful. Anyway, we could hear the guard patrolling the corridor. It seemed he was taking his time, but it didn’t sound like he was actively opening doors to explore the rooms. We were incredibly lucky. I shudder to think of how badly the entire affair could have ended up. Such lack of foresight on both our parts. He’s getting closer to the closet and we’re holding our breath. But, detective, you have to understand - this was possibly the dustiest room I have ever stood foot in before. It had nothing on that gym.”

You swallow, but your mouth is so dry it does nothing for you. Kim doesn’t seem to notice.

“He’s getting closer, and I realise that I’m going to sneeze. It was the most insistent tickle, my god. My eyes were streaming, and we’d only been in there for a minute at most. I could not speak up and inform my partner – it was too risky, and the guard was too close. I couldn’t move my hands – they were stuck, wedged up against the shelves. My partner, though, he was perceptive. He told me later he could feel the change in my breathing due to our close proximity. His hands were pressed between us – he managed to free one just in time to press it over my nose and mouth.”

Oh. Oh no. Your erection is back. It is swiftly filling with blood, and there is nothing you can do about it. The tare bag returns to its place in front of you.

“I sneezed so many times I genuinely thought I would stop breathing. My head was spinning. It was unbelievable. I was trying my absolute best to keep as quiet as I could, and my partner’s hand was clamped down hard enough that it was almost silent. That was quick thinking on his part.”

He mentions this previous partner with an undisguised air of admiration. You feel, for a moment, quite jealous. You want him to go on.

“Eventually, the guard passes us by. We waited another couple of minutes, just in case. I was dizzy from the lack of oxygen – it was that horrendous. We squirmed our way out of the closet at last. It took another twenty minutes for the sneezing to subside completely, but otherwise we got the pictures and other incriminating evidence we needed, and returned with a SWAT team the following day. All in all, a success. I apologised profusely to my partner – I wanted to buy him new gloves. You understand, I had made…quite a mess. But he told me not to worry. He was very kind.”

He looks at you straight on. Try not to panic.

“As you have been to me. Thank you, detective.”

The Lieutenant smiles warmly at you. You wish you could fully appreciate the gravity of this moment – his gratitude towards you, and his willingness to share such an embarrassing story. But your mind is elsewhere – and your cock is throbbing. You cannot get the image of the Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi having the sneezing fit to end all sneezing fits, pressed up against the body of another man and trapped in a tiny little closet, out of your head. Not at all, you do manage to say. You smile back, though you are sure it looks strained.

“Luckily, unlike with him, I have managed to avoid sneezing on you. Let’s see how long I can keep that up.”

He is joking – you can tell by the playful lilt in his melodic voice. It is definitely a joke. But to you, it is also a tease. To your perverted constitution, it is a flirtatious promise of sorts that he will fail. You are almost floored by an intense wave of arousal. Your cock is at full mast.

You have to get out of here. You have to do something. You mumble to Kim that you have forgotten some tool or other in your room – you’ll be back as quickly as possible, and then you can really continue with the investigation. The Lieutenant nods his head, buying into your story but clearly a little confused at the frantic cadence you are unable to keep out of your voice.

You run. You have never run with an erection before. It is challenging. But you manage it. You race into the hostel, up the stairs, into your room. You slam the door shut behind you, not even bothering to make your way to the bed. You lean back against the wooden surface, unzipping your pants with as much care as you can manage. You take out your cock, the thick phallus resting in the familiar grip of your right palm. You regard it for a moment. You are a big man, and it is proportionate. Both thick and long, and in your current state of extreme arousal, leaking from its reddened tip.

You start to pump it, milking it with your fingers and teasing the head on an upstroke. You may have forgotten most of who you are but your body remembers this instinctually. You have had decades of practice. It does not take you long until you are panting with pleasure, writhing into your own grip on shaky knees.

Your eyes screw shut. You do not want to think. You just want to feel. You fight to keep your mind blank, but it is no use. You first conjure up that familiar, painful, wonderful memory of Her, but you have to stop. You cannot do this now. Your mind continues to wander, and it is of no surprise to you that you settle on a fantasy of the Lieutenant. You replay his story in his head, so painfully erotic. Suddenly, you are right there with him. It is you pressed up against him in that dusty closet, catching his sneezes in your palm. Except you aren’t wearing any gloves, and the fantasy is so vivid that you can practically feel the sensation of the repeated baptisms against your skin. You have slotted a strong thigh between his own. You imagine the weight of his own cock and balls as you start to grind against his hip.

You are so close now. You can virtually taste your orgasm at this point. You continue to stroke yourself, hard and fast. Your legs start to buckle under the mounting pleasure. In your mind, the Lieutenant sneezes over and over. You picture his desperate, tortured expression, his shuddering body, his gasps and moans. The Kim in your fantasy groans in response to your thrusting. He cannot get enough of you. “Harry, please-!” He cries out for you.

The thought of him begging for you is the final straw. All at once you are coming. You whimper with each throb and pulse, ejaculating freely onto the carpet in front of you. The intensity of it surprises you – you sense that you are normally lucky to achieve the weakest drizzle of an orgasm under such circumstances. Hungover, stressed and unwell. But it feels fantastic. It feels like a revelation.

At last, the pleasure subsides. You slide down the door and onto your ass, gasping like an asthmatic as you struggle to ground yourself. You sit for a couple of moments longer, the wilting dick in your hand drooling cum down your knuckles.

Okay, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor Du Bois. Pull yourself together. You have just masturbated to the thought of sneezing fetish closet sex with a man you met only several days earlier. This is far from the worst thing you have done, but it is certainly somewhat of a novelty. Do you even find Lieutenant Kitsuragi attractive? You suppose you do. It doesn’t feel anything like being attracted to a woman. Different, but not…bad. Look at you, taking this in your stride. Maybe there is hope for you yet, grandpa.

You walk on slightly shaky legs to the bathroom and clean up briskly. You return with a wad of damp toilet paper to clean up the mess you have made on the carpet. You shudder to think of the room’s upholstery under a blue light.

The orgasm has cleared your mind. You feel refreshed. This post-orgasmic serenity is something you have not experienced in a very long time. Normally, you feel nothing but shame and a deep sense of profound loneliness. Perhaps you should have tried jerking yourself to the thought of men sneezing years ago. Nice, Harry. It’s good to see you joking with yourself.

You make your way back outside to Kim. He smiles at you as you approach. He does not ask you about the tool you are obviously not carrying back with you. If he doesn’t address it, neither will you.

“Okay. Ready to get back to the case, Lieutenant Double-Yefreitor?”

You are. You are about to tell him as much. But then…you feel it. The tickle. It has lingered in the background, waiting to strike - but it is back.

You have only just regained your composure. You cannot allow the tickle to crest. You hold your breath. You squeeze your hands into fists, nails biting into your palms. You are trying so hard. But it is not meant to be. No matter what you do, it is too strong. Your nostrils flare to capacity in a matter of seconds. You are going to sneeze.

You spin around as you inhale that definitive gasp of air to fuel the sneeze. It is a deep gasp – the sneeze it precedes will be another monstrous explosion. You let it happen. In all honesty, it feels great – the sensation as it overwhelms you combined with your post-orgasm buzz is a veritable headrush.

“HHAAEEESHHHHHUuuu!!!”

Luckily, it is just the one. You shiver. Such a delicious release. You cannot allow yourself to bask in it, though. You turn around, apologising as you do so. You lay your eyes on the Lieutenant. A mixture of both dismay and arousal pulse through you as the…’suggestibility’ of your sneeze appears to trigger Lieutenant Kitsuragi all over again. You watch helplessly as he trembles, sneezing thrice into his raised fist. He seems to have regained the ability to strangle them into submission once more.

“Hh’dDDT-!! H’Gxt!! Igk’t!!”

Your spent cock twitches in your pants with each little sneeze. If you were a younger man, maybe just 10 years or so, you are certain your erection would be back in full swing almost immediately. You thank god that you are an aging, washed-up drunk. This is perhaps the first time you have ever done so.

Kim looks at you, rubbing a gloved finger under his dampened nostrils. He takes in the bewildered, guilty expression on your face. The absurdity of the moment renders him temporarily speechless, and then he is laughing. It is a charming laugh – a little more raucous than you had expected from him. He is an enigmatic man full of surprises. You cannot help but laugh a little yourself. You are mortified, but fuck if this isn’t the most ridiculous thing to happen to you yet over these past few days of strange occurrences.

“We’re a miserable sight, officer. I doubt we’ll get through this investigation with our reputations intact.”

You scoff at that, remind him that you couldn’t possibly tarnish yours more if you tried.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Lieutenant Du Bois. You may exceed both of our expectations yet.”

Sarcastic bastard. You tell him to fuck off, which makes him smile – that subtle quirking of his lips again. You decide to head to the Frittte Kiosk to pick up some things – tissues, mostly. Maybe some antihistamines for Kim. You mention this to him.

“That might do me some good. I’m beginning to believe I’m allergic to this entire case.”

He is joking, again. It is good-natured, but for the sake of your dignity, you wish he would stop. You scoff at him. Bullshit, Lieutenant.

“I’m not allergic to that, at least. I can handle a great deal of it.”

Ain’t that the truth. You smirk, making your way into Frittte and hoping that your earlier orgasm is enough to tide you over for the rest of the day. More sneezing is inevitable. You are unsure whether this is a blessing or a curse.

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