#sfyrist writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sfyristwrites · 2 years

Text

This is some very old writing from when I was just a babe, and it's a bit silly and not very original, but I think it's fun and hope you will, too. :)

To save you pages of exposition, all you need to know about the set-up is -- there are two young human lovers out adventuring, and they come across this deserted village in the cliffs and begin exploring. They don't realize they're being watched by the place's longer-lived-but-still-quite-young-for-his-people elven protector, until too late. This is lead up to the bondage-y scenes I was talking about, so hey, here we go.

No matter how they searched, the place seemed to be quite deserted, and for some decades.

"Come on, Maris, the marks say this was an apothecary's. I wonder what sort of magic they practiced?" Edwin directed then up a steep, narrow street.

There were vials still everywhere, covered in dust. Just left behind, making the place more of a mystery. "I found something!" called Edwin after a few minutes. "Careful-- " he added quickly, "-- of the shelves; they'll pour dust if you bump them."

Maris gave him a slightly shy smile. "Would that displease you, really?"

Edwin laughed, and leaned in for a light kiss. "As sensitive as you are," he drawled, delighting in the flush touching his lover's fair cheeks, "this would be a bit much. But later..."

He started to lower his voice and say more, teasing, but Maris swatted at him and raised his eyebrows. "You said you found something?"

In truth it was already an effort for Maris to keep his voice from wavering from the growing need in him, just from being inside the place. And for him, that didn't mean only the need to sneeze but another, also, inextricably linked inside him, and his lover knew it.

Edwin was right. He was sensitive. If he started sneezing now they'd certainly end up making love outside on the cracked paving stones, and Maris was hoping to do better than that tonight. He'd seen an abandoned bathhouse with clean-running water.

Neither of the young men realized, as they looked at a few charms in shapes they recognized and discussed the possibilities of ancient trade routes, that someone was watching them from the other side of the filthy window.

His name was Aldren, and he was the guardian of the abandoned village. He made his home high above the tallest spire, in the cliffs, but his wards had drawn him down to what he had ascertained were harmless intruders.

They were taking charms from the shop, however, as if they had a right to them. He was considering a proper punishment when the lighter, shorter young man muffled a sneeze in his elbow, and the dark-eyed one's attention snapped to him with unmistakable emotion. In seconds he'd crossed and taken the fairer man in a speaking kiss.

Amused and feeling a bit wicked, Aldren immediately gathered his own magic and decided how he would punish the two for their minor trespass. He made sure he was out of sight before they came out into the narrow road, both their color running a bit high.

The 'why' was no mystery to the observant elf. Aldren himself was rather interested in sneezing, in an entirely unreserved and completely carnal way. The young men were both handsome, one rangy and brown, the other sturdy and fair, only a few inches from being of a height. Fine, dark eyes on the one called Edwin, and a kind humor in Maris's smile.

Aldren smiled to himself, mischief overtaking him.

He sent a few stones rolling along the hill, opposite his direction.

"What was that?" said Edwin.

"I heard it too," said Maris. Without needing to confer, they dove behind a broken wall and tried to pinpoint the noise.

Using his magic so precisely would be exhausting, but Aldren knew it would not be without its compensations. The very idea of what he was about to do had his breath quickening, a flush running through him.

"Now, I levy punishment," said Aldren, the ritual words. He could just make out the two young men behind the wall. He chose his first target, the one who had already sneezed and seemed so unsettled by it.

The elf concentrated a moment, then formed the clear thought, "You will build up to a sneeze that will disappear before it's released, on the command "'Build.'"

The two young men were kneeling face to face behind the wall, trying to figure out what they'd heard. Maris looked through the bush with worried eyes. "There's definitely someone out there, Edwin. We need to stay quiet."

Even as he said it Maris felt a wave of tickles begin to creep into his nose. His eyes widened as he tried to keep them from fluttering shut. He tried to alleviate the tickle by rubbing the underside of his nose with his finger, but it wouldn't stop. "Ed- Edhwin..."

"What?" said Edwin, concentrating too hard to notice Maris's sneezy voice.

"Are you u-using that ch-charm?"

"What? No. What-? Ohh."

"Because… because… I… aah... aah'h'h'h-"

Edwin turned to look at his cousin, and saw his eyes flutter as his finger rubbed under his flaring nostrils.

"Because I… aahh… need to… aahh'h'h'h… sneeze… AHH-"

Edwin was frozen, watching, entranced. He didn't know what was making his lover want to sneeze, but he really wanted to see him let this one out, as he looked consumed by it.

His brain tried to tug at him, to remember someone was definitely out there, and Maris's sneezes could not be called quiet. Edwin reached over and began to massage his lover's nose bridge, trying to alleviate the tickle. It sometimes worked, but not against this rising urge. Maris's nostrils still flared.

"Ahh… AHH… AAHHH-" Maris stopped rubbing his nose and began to fan his face, as if to blow away whatever was making him sneeze, but it was not working. "AAAHH... AAHHH… AAHH.... AAAHHHH..." Small shivers were running over the compact body, and he was struggling for breath through the gasping.

Edwin used his palm to rub Maris's nose in a final attempt, but knew it wasn't working as he felt his lover's nostrils flare wildly against his skin. All he could hope was that whatever was out there was friendly, as he stopped rubbing Maris's nose, put a hand on his shoulder, and waited for the inevitable.

"AAHHH… AHHHH…AAHHH-" Maris's urge climaxed with his nostrils as wide as they could be, his mouth wide and his eyes closed, his hand coming up to clasp at Edwin's arm but then-- he froze. He opened his eyes, sniffed, and blinked, shuddering lightly and shaking away from Edwin by a few inches.

"It’s gone," he said in a stunned voice, as Edwin sighed with both relief and some disappointment. He couldn't deny what seeing Maris taken over like that did to him. Seeing his lover fall helplessly into the grip of his passions like that was more than stimulating.

Aldren, meanwhile, was enjoying the view, his needs already starting to rise as he looked at Maris again and, with a little shiver of anticipation, thought, "Build."

Maris rubbed his nose, still blinking, and said, "I wonder where that aahhh… c-came… AAHHH… from… AAHHH-" the tickle flared anew, just as strong as before, but this time he just breathed in and fanned his face with both hands, eager to sneeze this annoying tickle out. "AAHHH… AAHHH…AAAHHHH-"

Maris had again reached the climax when the tickle disappeared. Rubbing his nose and wiping at watering eyes, Maris said "Urgh! What the hell is wrong with AAHHH… AAHHH… AAHHHH-"

Certain the sneeze would escape this time, Maris's frustration rose as it disappeared again. His hands were fists and he was shaking, now, his body demanding satisfaction the magic was refusing it.

"Urghhh! Gods! What is doing this to m-uhm-me AAHHH… AHH... AAHHH-"

As this went on and on without culmination, Edwin watched with an increasingly stunned expression, as if he'd been hit with a bat. He felt frozen in place.

He'd never seen his lover look so tempting as while struggling with this sneeze. Maris was gasping and moving his firm body as though consumed, and the expression on his face just as he thought he had crested -- again. And then again.

Maris slumped as the urge faded again. "URGH! This is infuriating!" he said, scrubbing roughly at his tormented nose, his other fist pressing hard into his thigh, almost forgetting they were supposed to be hiding. He looked at Edwin, expecting a look of concern, but found only stunned, awed want.

"Do you have any idea what this is like?!" said Maris, obscurely hurt, and Aldren, hearing this, smiled again, brushing his long chestnut hair behind his shoulder and forcing himself to steady his own breathing, his own hands.

"He will now." Aldren looked at Edwin and thought, "'Build.'"

"No, not re-real… eehh… real-l-ly… ehh-" suddenly Edwin’s nose was assaulted with a fierce wave of tickles.

"M-M-Maris… eehh… EHH--" He wasn't the one allergic to so many things, this didn't just happen to him, not like this. He didn't enjoy it himself the way Maris did, either, not beyond the sensual pleasure of the sneeze itself. Unaroused, he had a little more room to think.

Maris stared at him, shocked by the desperation in his lover's face as Edwin went through the same gasping ascent to the crest -- and then had the tickle retreat, unresolved. Through his own simmering state of want and need, he managed, "Serves you right!"

Maris didn't want to be teasing, though. He wanted Edwin in his arms, at his neck, between his thighs -- his body cried for touch and relief.

Edwin’s eyes fluttered as his nostrils flared wildly again. Trying to fight this urge was like trying to stop the sun from setting, but he hadn't forgotten someone else was with them in this deserted city.

He tried to force back the urge, rubbing his nose with all he could think of, his finger, his palm, his forearm, but nothing worked as the tickle waxed. "eehhh… eehhh… EEHHH… EEEHHHH-"

Then, trembling right on the brink, the tickles disappeared. Edwin slowly opened his eyes and sniffed, a peculiar, unsatisfied ache in his sinuses and the pit of his stomach.

He managed a few calm breaths, only to have his eyes flutter shut and his nose twitch as the tickles returned, "eehhhh… EEHHH... EEIIIHH-" Right to the brink. Again the tickles disappeared and, moments later, reappeared.

"eeeehhhhhh..."

And then again.

Edwin began to understand the strength of Maris's frustration. "What the hell is going on?! EEIIIHHH-" The tickles returned again, and now Maris was almost laughing, caught between desire for his lover and amusement that for once it wasn't him having the attack.

"Snf!" Edwin whimpered. "'S no joy for me, though, eeehhh... y-you... at least... g-get to enjoy the sensation," he panted out, left again at the edge of completion.

Which was when Aldren looked back at the still breathless, flushed Maris and thought, "Build."

"Ha! ha! hah! HAA… HAA... AAHHH-" The tickle returned to Maris's nose, torturing him anew, making him groan and throw back his head.

Only suspicion kept Edwin from the bared throat. He might not experience sexual pleasure at his own ssneezing as Maris did, but Maris was irresistable in this moment, even as he sniffled and his eyes began to water.

Aldren was ecstatic. This was better than he could have imagined!

Fully erect and throbbing from the sight and sound of the young men in the throws of their nasal agony, he struggled for focus enough to form a new command.

He stared at each of the humans in turn thinking, "The build-ups will end this time. What begins next will take you to release." Aldren was so aroused he dared not even think the word to himself.

As each of them gasped their way to the climax the urge, again, fell away. They waited, both gasping for breath, Maris groaning with need, but the next onslaught didn't come. Edwin vigorously rubbed his nose, and looked about.

"What could possibly be causing this?" he wondered, wiping his eyes.

"I don’t know," Maris said in a somewhat shattered voice. "I just-- I just wish it would finish! I can't--! Edwin, I c-can't--"

"Shhh," Edwin murmurred with a squeeze to his lover's shoulder that set Maris curling in on himself, shuddering. Edwin didn't dare touch him anywhere else.

For once, Edwin understood what Maris-the-allergy-sufferer meant when he said sneezing could feel sexual. For once, Edwin wanted it as more than a brief taste of relief or to entice his love. His whole body was aching.

Not like poor Maris, though, painfully and visibly hard in his trousers, clearly on the brink of coming untouched.

As if in response to their wishes, they both felt the onrush of tickles again. Their eyes fluttered, their nostrils flared, and they gasped in a last breath before the sneezes were finally let out.

"AHH… AAHHH… AHKCHOO!"

"HE'EIIEETSSCH'OO!!"

"AHKCHHOO!!"

"HEE'EETSHH'OO!!"

"AAHHH… AAAHHHH…" For a moment, as his breath gathered, Maris feared a repeat of the frustration, but it seemed it was simply his body taking what respite it could before a truly powerful, "AAKCHHOO!!!!" that threw him forward onto his hands on the ground.

"HEYEETSSCHHH'OO!!" Edwin was compelled but not wrecked as Maris was by the expulsions, though seeing his lover so thoroughly overcome was beginning to make him hard and give the sneezes an added twinge of pleasure in the release.

"AAKSHOO!!!!" Maris was glad to be facing the ground, as his body convulsed and rare spray escaped with the final violent outburst.

"HEETSSHHOO!!!!!" Edwin's last sneeze was equally wet, rarity, too, and he wiped his nose on his sleeve. Perhaps the tortuous buildups, or something in the air.

But nothing natural in the air could have caused that whole bizarre occurrence.

Before Edwin could gather himself and look away from Maris -- on hands and knees with his head down, shivering his way back into control of himself -- he

heard pebbles roll, up the narrow street behind him.

tbc

There's a lot more of this old stuff, a lot more explicit, if these characters are interesting to anyone. The sneezing gets more original the older I get. ;) Magical compulsion, actual bondage, evil enemy compulsion, all kinds of scenes.

I'd love to know what you guys think!

#snz kink #snzfucker #sneeze kink #sfyrist writes #compulsion #minors DNI

15 notes · View notes

sfyristwrites · 2 years

Link

Chapters: 2/12 Fandom: Original Work Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Edwin/Maris, Edwin/Maris/Aldren Additional Tags: Sneezing, Early Work, Really early work, sneezefic, sneeze kink, fluff and compulsion, then fluff and bondage, I was 19 okay?, Fluff and Smut Summary:

Two young human lovers in a desert land go adventuring up into the mountains. They find an ancient, abandoned city, but don't realize there's a young (for his kind) elf watching over the place.

And then they fetishily meet, and continue on in a fluffily smutty kinky way about creating a polyamorous relationship.

And live happily, sneezily, smuttily, fluffily ever after.

#snz kink #sneezing #sneeze kink #minors dni #sfyrist writes

3 notes · View notes

sfyristwrites · 2 years

Text

Thank you so much to the person who said the build-up scene was hot in an ask!

I answered you and then managed to delete it, because I am a clutz!

Anyway, thank you! I appreciate the kind word. :)

#snz kink #sfyrist writes #asks

0 notes

sfyristwrites · 2 years

Text

Let Me Show You Part 2 18+

This is sneezing and a care-taking kink and sex. It is early work. Minors DNI. Moments of previously understood overriding of consent between longtime lovers. You have been warned.

“You’ve always gotten by when no one was even looking to notice you needed help, from long since before you should have. You don’t need this.” He rubbed his hands in again, soothing, and kissed Xander’s forehead lightly. “You don’t need it.” He rocked his hips forward, naked bodies sliding into heated contact. “You don’t need it.”

“You deserve it.”

He said it several times, kissing the corner of Xander’s mouth, between his eyes, seeing something in the worried eyes ease at the mantra, the touch of cool lips.

Waiting until Xander’s resistance had faded, until he wasn’t anticipating anything except sex or thinking there was anything coming from Spike except horny vampire. Then Spike leaned all the way down. “You don’t need it,” he breathed against Xander’s lips.

Something wild seemed to break over Xander, his whole body rising, and the next thing Spike knew one of those broad, strong hands had him by the back of the head, crushing him into a fierce, bruising kiss.

It might’ve been the strangest encounter Spike had ever had, which was saying something. So hot, and so muddled and confused, and so tender and playful even as it danced right on the edge of burning humiliation.

Spike was absolutely determined not to let Xander fall, but it was hard to keep enough mind for thought beyond the fevered strength of Xander’s response. When he finally let hot, hard, velvet soft flesh slide into pressure with his own fierce need, Spike thought for a moment they would both be undone before they even got started.

The wide brown eyes fluttered closed, and Spike skimmed a hand up to block Xander’s arm. “No! I’m going t-to sneih-!” He gritted his teeth and seemed to fight back the urge from the very brink. Water touched the corners of his eyes. He was almost panting with exertion and congestion, and his voice was breathy. “Let me- Let me g-guh-go… uh-“

Xander kept grimacing, sniffling, fighting off the symptoms of his cold in the cause of devouring Spike with his mouth, his hands, soaking him into his pores. For all that he had started this, Spike had never felt so claimed, not since the bad old soulless days with Angelis.

He made room for it all, made sure Xander kept his breath, let him hold off the compulsions of his cold for as long as he could. Followed his fevered lead right up until Xander started to raise his first to press beneath his nose, after a deep sniffle ended with his eyes tightening in an unmistakably sneezy expression.

Those eyes flew wide again, hazed with what was almost panic, when Spike leaned up and kissed the tip of the reddening nose, and gave the sensitive flesh beneath a tiny flick with his tongue.

“Oh, gahhuhd- hie’yeh– huhGSHih!! – hih’hyehh… hihhh– ingk’GYIESSHuh!! uh-uh-! uhh! ihk’KXTSSH!!uu EIH-! …uh. EIH’H’H-! …uh. Oh… oh… S-Spike…”

He sniffled against the hard, careful finger beneath his nose. “Spike.”

The cool finger had slipped back beneath his nose after his attempt at crushing back the force of them failed so completely, the tight, wet sneeze seeming to double the tickle in his nose.

Spike murmured, “I just wanted to help you with your cold,” and Xander groaned in the back of his throat. His hips rose hungrily. Heat pressed heat and he gasped, threw his head back in the pillows, and groaned when Spike’s finger stayed in place.

“Hmm?” A smooth rock of hips, and Xander gasped again, thought whiting out under pleasure.

He was so far over the border into the pleasurable and the forbidden, wanting Spike so much, what he offered so much, Xander just stopped fighting – for anything except the most pleasure he could reach.

Talking seemed somehow part of the thrill. Talking through his cold. Trying to talk and being overcome. “I n-need. eii‘huh-! need you… uhh-! n-need – ei’heih! B-but righ- ri-ieh’h’h– right now, I need- hyehhh– nyeih-need to – snee- eihh-hyeh! sneeze-“

Xander shuddered to his bones, groaning deeply. Going with it. “It… ihh- it juhh- just- t-tickles eh’hih… so m-muhhh-! hyiehhh-!!” Spike’s finger shifted, pressing harder. “L-let lei’ehh– hyeh- let me, p-please hyuhh… let me- hehh s-neeze- huhhh… I can feel, hehhh… feel it, this cold it tickles f-from m-my hyahh!! sinuses, uhhh! all the theh-huh way down, that s-spot hyehh…”

Spike kissed him as his voice peaked, rocked his hips in tighter, gasping himself a bit at this point. The heat of Xander’s body, the flush of blood in his skin, made Spike’s chill body feel touched with fever as they moved together.

He kissed Xander’s forehead, his lips. The tip of his restless, flushed nose. But he didn’t move his finger.

Spike was willing to learn this as a new game, however Xander wanted to play. “Let me help,” he murmured, then surprised Xander, moving his finger. He gave a light pinch to the bridge of his nose instead, as if holding the urge to sneeze back from there, but then rubbed lightly, down over the tender nostrils and, delicately, underneath. “Does that help, here? Is this the sp-“

Xander exploded, the irritation to his cold ridden nose too much for any attempt at restraint. “Hyaiaihhtchish!!! hyah- huh- hyaihhptchuh!!! Hyiaihhtchush!uh-HyaihhPSSH!!uu H’uh- h’uh- h’h’huh-!”

The gasping went to a groan as Spike’s finger backed the rest of them off. Spike gathered tissues to clean him up even as Xander’s breath continued hitching. The wet sneezes left his nose running heavily, making his nostrils flare against the vampire’s cool skin.

Xander was shifting, not quite thrashing, thrusting up into Spike’s body, almost shaking with arousal. “Th-there, y-yes, th-thuh– there hyeh-!, the-there and d’down, huhhn-!, aah! all th-the way d-hih’yehhh down. A-and I hyuh– I n-need, nyeh- nyeihhh– nyeh- hyeih-” He bit his lips and rushed out, “I need to sneeze and sneeze, HUHH-! EIH-! Let me-!”

With vampiric speed, the finger was gone and not a kiss but a light graze of teeth touched the tip of the flaring nose, and Spike thought Xander would come right there as he whispered, “Let me help you with that.” He thought he might come in the next instant, as Xander’s hard body arched beneath him and Xander’s arms crushed him down, and Xander rolled his weight on top of him in the soft pillows.

“Uhhhn-” their shared, deep, shuddering groan of pleasure was interrupted as Xander’s head first went back, overstimulated nose flaring wildly, then curled forward as Xander buried his face in Spike’s neck and his entire body convulsed. “Hyehhhchuh!!! Huh… huh… HYEIT’TSSSSH-uu!!! EI’EIHTSSSH’U’U!!uhh… ehk’g’YEIHTSSHuu!!”

Spike threw his head back and gasped, heat flooding his veins as Xander moved against him, his hands moving feverishly over the broad back, so pleasured by the weight of the man, desperate for more touch. Xander pressed his hips down and groaned, then gasped, then rushed to kiss Spike again before his head jerked back up.

“Hih’ih’ih’h’h’h– hihyehhh– HYEIHHtschuh!!” Xander gasped, tried to snuffle, and actually managed to stop himself a moment to grab some tissue to clean himself up a bit, blow his running nose. Spike could have killed him for the human consideration as he pulled the heat of his body away. But when he could actually breathe a little, Xander settled back onto him slowly, a look of rather dawning amazement in his eyes as Spike stroked his face and Xander clearly let himself feel the pleasure of the attentive touch for the first time.

His nose crinkling rather desperately, Xander used the momentary reprieve from his symptoms to let his tongue find a cool vampire nipple. He teased for a moment, just as he knew Spike liked it, struggling to keep his breath, to hold back more sneezing, then gasped for real, writhing, when cool, strong hands slid down his back and gripped his butt, grinding their bodies together.

Spike was kissing whatever part of him would stop moving long enough, shifting beneath him so heat slid into heat in a dizzying way. Xander was still gasping, but the nascent fit seemed to be holding off.

Which let him kiss Spike like he meant it. Fiercely, gratefully, the claiming he knew Spike desired as much as Xander desired – this. This strangeness that had desire burning in his blood. It had all gone too far, was too hot, urgent, to ease off even a moment, to try for anything more complicated than the slide of heat and pressure, but he could hold his lover, be held. Taste those lips on the way to the explosion.

Spike pulled back for a moment to smile at him, rare and open and precious. He had read the gratitude, knew he’d brought comfort with the pleasure, and for Spike, together with Xander holding him like he’d break him rather than let him go, that was life validation in a moment.

Xander smiled back, then had to kiss him again when Spike stroked his hair away from his face, cool fingers lingering on his forehead, and said, “You’re getting a bit of a fever. You should rest, soon.”

Hips shifted, finding a new rhythm as Xander tried to gasp again and ended up with a groan, his congested head and Spike’s lips conspiring to keep him from breath. For long minutes he kissed Spike, rocked into him, held their bodies close. He only snuffled and huffed and didn’t quite sneeze again, and took advantage of the reprieve. The itch was growing in his nose, but it was deep, and nothing as important as the feel of skin on skin and mouth on mouth, hard arms around him.

Spike loosened his embrace as the lips on his hardened for the third time, pulling back to look at Xander’s half-grimacing face. “Your cold’s making you need to sneeze again, love,” he observed softly, with a gentle, soothing stroke of his hand that made Xander rock into him, hard. “Why are you fighting it?” he asked, nibbling over a barely-stubbled chin.

“I’m n-not. …uhh. Snfl. It’s stuck,” Xander managed. How either of them were making complete sentences at that point he had no idea. The spreading prickle in his nose was maddening, but so was the heat between them, the release they were reaching toward.

At that admission Spike blinked, then simply kissed him again. On the nose. Tongue wriggling in the same expert way it had been a moment before, and it might’ve been gross except he was a vampire, and what was in this to disgust him, this little treat for his lover? Wriggled and teased and kept moving even when Xander gasped frantically and started to pull back, his chest heaving as the sneezes provoked came closer and closer. Lips unmolested, he finally thought to speak.

“T-too much- huh-hyahh! It’s- it’ll- ieAHhuh…snfl! I won’t Oh-uh-Spike! uh-hyeih! hyah-huh’h’h-! be able to st-stop uhhyah!” He was writhing, not quite struggling away, not quite not. When his breath suddenly froze, Spike finally stopped. Pulled back. Xander was holding his breath, eyes tearing, looking at him with almost wonder. So lightly beckoning to the finish, Spike stroked a hand over his shoulder, and said softly, “I just want to help you feel better,” and blew a breath up into the struggling nose.

And, “YIH’EHTSSSHOO!! Ah. Hyuh- hyuhtchuh! hyeh-heh-heh! hyehhtchuh!! hyihuh… hyehhuh… hyehhtschoo!!!” They were so close, the distraction of sneezing was all that kept Xander from coming, even while it – and Spike’s words most of all – deepened the need to. “Hyehhuh… hyehhuh… hyehht’tssshoo!! EIH’EHT‘TSSSHOO!! Ah-! S-spike…”

“Xander.”

“L-love- hehhhn… l-love… hyehhhn… love you- HyehhTSSSHHuh!!uu…”

“Love you, Xan.”

And other things, whispered and gasped, Spike continuing with the little phrases that should’ve made Xander burn with humiliation but instead, in this moment, only made him want to devour Spike in every way he could manage.

They should’ve been there but it was drawing out, going deeper; long, slow waves of pleasure, unbearably intense but only a promise of where they were going. Spike was holding on to control with two centuries of discipline, waiting for Xander as he rose and fell with the waves, just short of completion, again and again.

When his lips lifted, unable to stand to wait any longer, provoking a finish to it all, Spike puffed a breath into the still clearly twitchy nose.

They were almost there. Spike could feel a difference suddenly in the trembling thighs spreading his. Xander was trying not to shout, succeeding only because he didn’t have the breath for it.

He took Spike’s mouth again, seeming to need that more than oxygen. The kiss-induced fit had all but faded; Xander was still gasping, but not from that.

“N-nuh– no, Spike. eik’guh’gyuhhtssshuh!! I don’t want to-“

He did want to, Spike knew, feeling the rise of Xander’s body. The protest was part of the game, then. He didn’t answer, except with another puff of air. Xander’s nose was so agitated, it seemed to be all he needed.

“ihk’uh-! hyuhhhtssshuh!! Snfl! No, Spike…” But Xander was shaking, rocking forward, urging need into ecstacy, and Spike wasn’t about to back off. He gave another sharp puff and Xander gasped and drew back, nostrils spasming, and Spike moved.

Legs around hips, a twist, vampire strength against the heavier body and by the time Xander opened his eyes after another sneeze he had a vampire sitting down to ride.

Hard and fast and the rhythm drove them both and Spike practically lunged at him, dodging another, “No, Spike.”

Kissing the red, twitching nose, wriggling his tongue in as nostrils seized and flared. Xander trembled, then threw his head back to gain leverage on his thrusts as his head went back, his chest rising powerfully.

“N-no, Spike. I- huh. I didn’t w-wuhhuh want hyuhhTSSSHoo!! want this. I d-d’YAHHtshoo!! don’t want to! Hyehh- hyehhuh- Make it, make it st-uh hyuhhhT’tsshhuh!!! hyuhhsh-hyuhhtsh–hyuhhhTSSSHuh!!!”

Xander was still talking, too, but his eyes were closed and he was arched into the body above him and shaking for all he was worth. Spike considered, as best he could with a mind exploding with pleasure, and chose to do the same.

As Xander protested and denied, he whispered back words of concern, of caring, of taking care, words that would’ve been effusive and silly in any moment but this.

“Xan… Xan…” a whisper, wild, mindless, they were almost….

“Spike, kiss me, I don’t want- wuhhyuihhshuh!!! don’t d-don’t heh-hyih– EIHEHHGSSHHsh!!uh.”

Spike kissed him, the struggling lips, and Xander gasped but didn’t pull away, and said into the hot, human mouth, “Want to take care of you,” and-

“Hyaih! Aih! Nghn!”

“NG’EIGTSSSH!! Uhhn… Oh- OH- Ai!”

“Oh, nnghn. Xan…”

“Spike.” Kiss. “Spike. Hyehhshuh!!”

It was almost an hour before they woke up.

~end

#snz fic #snzfucker #sneeze kink #sneezing #sfyrist writes #snz kink

35 notes · View notes

sfyristwrites · 2 years

Text

Try Part 2

Terry Pratchett's "Night Watch"

Carrot/Angua

WARNINGS : I didn't remember how... THIS, this was. Okay. I've never written anything like this before. This is a cross between bondage play and the sci-fi trope of “the aliens gave them a chemical that made them have to have sex.”

To cover the important things and maybe sound worse than it is: Third-party non-con touching, and non-con issues raised by the trope, so if that will bother you, please pass this by.

The next morning wasn’t so pleasant. For one thing, she was waking up. For another, she was much less pleasantly naked, with a stone wall at her back instead of Carrot’s warmth. There were also manacles involved.

Iron with silver threads – not a torture, but she was well and truly caught. With that determined, she risked opening her eyes. A dim, low-ceilinged room met them, dripping with condensation. Some kind of cellar, and near the river by the smell.

Her skin was aching with cold against the rough stone. There was a woman watching them from the shadows in the stairwell, and Carrot was beside her, similarly bound against the wall at a right angle to hers.

She did a slow double take as her eyes caught up with her nose. There was a lot of Carrot to be seen on that wall. Long rippling arms and legs, held splayed and tense by his chains. That massive chest and tight stomach and lean, hard hips.

They had been ambushed and they were prisoners, but her breath still caught, and a hot prickle ran between her equally fixed legs. Carrot, bound in chains and the kind of half-aroused her naked body could excuse. She whimpered slightly and forced herself to breathe.

“Ah, the bitch is awake. And in season.” A pleasant, polite voice preceded the bundled form from the stairwell. She hadn’t given the words any pejorative inflection, and she cast Angua a smile as she walked toward Carrot, examining him closely from curled toes to clenched jaw. “He is a fine specimen.”

“It will go easier for you if you let us go now- ” Carrot, as calmly as if he were free and fully dressed.

“I would. But it wasn’t I who took you. I don’t even have a key to the cell, or your manacles.”

“Are you a prisoner?” Carrot asked more quietly, prepared to sympathize and make common cause. Because he was Carrot.

The woman smiled, and turned to study Angua just as closely, and with as much apparent relish. “Of circumstances and birth. I live here, and am safe, and in exchange I provide comfort to prisoners. Do you wish water?”

Angua turned her eyes back to Carrot and remained silent. They’d unmistakably been drugged before, and could hardly fight it again in their position. The water was probably fine. But there was something – the barest trace of a scent she’d never smelled before-

But Carrot’s expression engaged all her attention. That hard jaw was slackening slightly, and he blinked slowly, several times. She searched his face and – his nose. There was a gathering pinkness in the nostrils, a tremor working its way down the nose to meet it. He stared blankly ahead, apparently trying to deny the worsening tremble by force of will.

The strange woman was watching them, but Angua didn’t care. A pleasant pulsing began between her legs as the nostrils began to twitch, once, twice, three times –

“Hahtchoo!!” Carrot’s face froze again as Angua fought to breathe. It was as if a hot band had closed around her breasts. She watched the pink deepen to red, and Carrot fight not to let a muscle move, and the lip arching upward on its own as the nostrils suddenly surrendered to the trembling, darkening another shade as, “Hyahtchih! Hah-hah … Huhhh…” Her nipples were so hard they hurt. Carrot, bound, beautiful, failing to fight off a “Hahtshoosh.”

The woman’s hand touching lightly between her legs jerked her attention closer. Her clitoris was full of blood, and even an uninvited touch brought sensation.

The woman’s smile was bright and innocent. “Oh, that was nice. It pleases you.” She walked over to Carrot, who was staring at her, shocked. She reached and ran a finger behind his balls, then up his shaft, which rose slightly to follow it. “It seems it pleases him, too. That’s always best.” She reached with the finger, now scented by both of them-

And placed it right on the tip of his still lightly quivering nose. Angua couldn’t help it, something was making it hard to think, but the only scent she cared anything about at the moment was reaching out to her body from that wall. She held her breath and stared as his nose mimicked his lower organ, rising as the woman’s finger passed upwards, desperate now for contact, the still reddening flesh beginning to spasm helplessly with every breath.

The woman sniffed, then smiled up at Carrot and ran her finger, much more delicately, back down. Carrot’s entire expression surrendered to give testimony to aching, desperate need. Then the woman got back to the tip, paused consideringly, then rubbed a small, so small, circle. Just the very tip, as the blood continued to heat the nostrils which instantly went into spasms.

Carrot gasped and threw a wild look at Angua, even as his expression weakened, his nose trying desperately to rise into the feathery touch. His entire body was somehow a single plea for relief.

“What do you feel?” the woman asked quietly. Carrot seemed compelled to answer.

“A sn… A snuh… Ahh… My nose. Itches. Huh. … Please.”

Angua gasped and fought against her shackles to clench her thighs.

“What do you ask?”

“I nuh… I nuhhuh. I need to… I need to s- snuh … sn- sn- s- suh-“

Angua moaned.

“I need to sneeze!” he rushed out, giving up any last attempt at composure and straining into the pressure of her finger.

She withdrew it.

Carrot’s eyes widened in naked despair, then tightened to show an agony of disappointed desire.

“What causes this?”

“Pleah! hehhhn… Please?”

She raised her finger, held it just out of reach of the thrust of his straining, pulsing nose. “What?”

“Dry hyehh… bread mo- mo- ahh… Oh!” He froze and drew a long, sniffling breath that seemed to torture him, his nose working furiously. “Mold. Dry bread mold. Please- hyahhh!!“

The finger returned, dodging the lunge to rub and directing instead the pinprick of a nail to scrape up the septum, no soothing intent in the proffered relief. Carrot made a desperate sound and lunged again. The woman hovered just out of reach and waited until he stilled, making wild little sounds, to almost casually place her finger back at the tip and begin rubbing in tiny, firm circles.

The relief on Carrot’s face, the need on the burning edge of satisfaction, made a pounding begin between Angua’s legs, then thundered with the exulted look of release as, out of a deep, drawn-out groan, “Huhhhuhhtsh–tshh- tshh- tshTCH– hahhtchoo!! Huh TSH!! Ihhtsh –huhitshtsh!! TSHH– TSHH!! Tshh-tshh–tshh-hyahhhhtshhooo!!! Snf! Snflsnf! Ssnnff! Snf- snf- snahahhhtshtchoo!!! Hihhtchoo!! Hyatsh!! Oh… Uhhh…”

The woman rubbed his bowed head fondly, then almost absently let her hand fall to rest on his trembling cock. He jerked up and gasped, then shuddered all over as her thumb pressed the slit. His hips rose, and the trembling from the bridge of his nose set the blood red nostrils flaring wildly.

“Come, then,” the woman said kindly, and touched the tip of his nose.

“Ahh- ehheh – Ah! – hyehh– Ahahah! – Hyahhhtshhooo!!! Ahh!”He hung, trembling, in the aftermath of the sneeze and the orgasm, seemingly equally affected by either. The woman patted his head kindly and was rolling Angua’s nipples between her fingers in the next instant.

Angua howled. A part of her mind was observing the events in a combination of intrigue and horror, but every cell in her body rose to the touch, as she closed her eyes and listened to Carrot’s post-coital sniffling, imagining his head against her chest in that state in their own bed.

The woman leaned forward and whispered, “I will make him desperate to sneeze, and desperate to stop, and he will put his nose between your legs and sneeze violently, again and again and- “

“I- I have to…” Carrot’s voice, coming into the fantasy devouring her mind to burn in her veins. He sounded weak and exhausted and precisely like he had in her dreams. “I have to… sneeze… ” he whispered, despairing.

The woman’s fingers found her clitoris in the instant with Carrot’s struggling, over-powering, “Uhhh- ah-ah – hhyehh… Hhytshahhtchoo!!!“

Carrot’s guttural moan was the last thing she heard, the beginnings of a pathetic sniffle, as she threw back her head and howled the joy of coming like an explosion.

They were left alone for some time after that. They hung, barely sensate in their chains, only struggling weakly to straighten occasionally to keep from suffocating, barely coherent enough even for that.

Whatever the strange scent was, the woman seemed to’ve taken it with her as she retreated back into the shadows beneath the stairs. When Angua was finally able to lift her head and get her eyes to focus, she found it much easier to focus her mind as well.

Anger slammed through her veins, more suffocating than the silver. She couldn’t look at Carrot, but her own humiliation gave her a baseline to guess what she would see.

Carrot was such an innocent in some matters, still capable of being reduced to abashed, blushing stutters by Nobby’s secret copy of Klatchian Secret Gardens. To have a strange woman- And in that way- Not to even think about the strangeness of the rest of it yet-

That she had been molested herself, that something had left her so out of herself that she’d given herself to her response to his molestation- none of that was to he considered at all.

“Angua?” His voice was as subdued as she’d anticipated, if a lot more self- possessed. “Are you hurt?”

Not ‘all right’. At least he didn’t try to ask that. “There’s silver in the cuffs; not enough to do much, but I can’t Change. Other than that, just really hacked off.”

“What… something was… Was there magic, or was there something else happening?”

Her chest hurt. He was out the other side of embarrassed into a version of his usually infuriating Carrot imperturbability that made her teeth ache. The wolf wanted blood for the very primal insult done by hurting her mate in such a way.

She tried to think through her rage and the haze over the past few hours. “Not at first. I woke up and was kind of groggy, with whatever that powder was, and the silver. But there was nothing new. Until that woman – she was in the room the whole time, but after she came forward, I smelled something. Nothing I recognized at all.”

Which was unprecedented. It could be magic, maybe some herb witch stuff.

“Is it- is any of the new smell still here ?”

“No.” She looked up finally, studying him from under her eyelashes, wondering at the question. He looked tired, but more composed than he had any right to. He was looking away from her, studying the area under the stairwell intently. “Why?”

He glanced at her, then looked down when he realized her eyes were on him. “It obviously made us extremely susceptible to suggestion. Right now, my mind feels clear.”

“Yeah, me too.” Even if she wished it weren’t.

“I want the woman to come back. I want to talk to her. I think she’s a victim, that she didn’t mean us any harm. I’m not sure – I don’t know if I can trust my instincts.”

And suddenly it made sense that Carrot was so far beyond being disturbed by being touched. He made the world go ’round by his assessments of people, by persisting in them in the face of all evidence until he was proven right. Having that shaken was more of a violation than anything else could be.

This, at least, she could honestly remedy. “Did she speak to you or do anything to you before I woke up?”

“No.”

“When she was- When she did what she- did. Did you feel like she was inside your head? I mean, like a witch. Or was it just- what she said, what she- what she obviously expected.”

He took a while to answer that. Finally, carefully, he said, “I didn’t feel like she was in my head. Or that I was, either. It was like she read me and, and made her, did everything and said everything just right to make my body- make me not just do but want to do- everything.”

They hung there, not looking at one another, and Angua thought the combined heat of their flushed skin was about to set the air on fire. “But it was like she was reading me. And drawing me. Not compelling me.”

That was exactly what Angua had experienced and nothing she wanted to hear. Before he could go on, doing his Carrot thing of worrying things to death, she said, “Well, I want to rip her throat out. So if she doesn’t have some kind of controlling-thoughts-while-touching, then I don’t think we need to worry.”

“Oh.”

Thankfully he stopped at that, and they stood in silence. She heard the clink as Carrot tested his chains. Apparently he was as well-bound as she, because he stopped after a moment. Even if he got loose, she couldn’t imagine how they were going to get out of the cellar.

The stones were the ancient, huge blocks that no amount of crumbling mortar would allow two people to shift, and the only visible door was steel-bound bolted steel. Wherever the woman had retreated to, the whole level was probably the same foundation.

“You want the woman to come back. So you can talk to her.”

“She said she was here because she was safe. Safe from what? That her charge was to offer- comfort. She seemed to be- enjoying, pleased, by our… by our… positive… She didn’t seem to be trying to hurt anyone. I’m not sure she would understand why we would object-“

“No one’s that naive.”

“If this is all she’s ever known… But I was going to say, I’m also not sure if we’ll be able to object once she comes back. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it.”

Angua bit back another protest and suppressed the tang of fear in her mouth. Carrot wasn’t arguing to defend the woman’s virtue, he was analyzing their situation. His reasonable approach made her teeth grate.

To her eyes, their best bet was in that Vimes had doubtless been turning the city inside out from the moment he got the report on their little disturbance.

Before they could discuss anything further, a sound from under the stairwell drew both their eyes. The shadows seemed to part, and suddenly the woman in her bundle of clothing was standing there as if she had never left.

“‘You are a witch,” Angua growled, starting off the wall to come up against her chains despite herself.

The woman looked at her in unoffended curiosity. She stayed in her spot. “He said “object.” What would you object to? I am here to offer comfort. I bring pleasure – I let you experience your own desires without restraint. In this life I’ve found that little else will ease the suffering of prisoners.”

“In our lives,” Carrot said slowly, “We believe that control over when we indulge our desires is very important. Is she correct? Are you a witch?”

She spread her hands. “I am as I am. I can do only what you have seen. There are those who have desires they would kill before allowing the world to see. Those I do not comfort. Those he deals with.”

“He.”

“He. He is the one who protects me. The one who will return, in time, to speak with you. Until then I will give you what comfort I can.”

“What if-” Carrot spoke hastily, before Angua could do more than lean against her chains again. “What if our comfort would be served by your- not comforting us.”

“It is what I am.” For the first time the woman looked distressed. “I cannot be here with you and let you need. Even now, your thirst gnaws at me. Only your desire to be free can I resist, because I have no power to alleviate it. Will you take water?”

Angua’s throat felt like ashes, so she couldn’t object when Carrot nodded. “We would be grateful for water. Can it be only water, for now?”

The woman looked relieved and more distressed at once. “For now.” She seemed to pick a pail up from the air and moved forward slowly, visibly struggling with something. She held a dipper to Carrot’s lips, then approached Angua even more diffidently. Angua made things easier by leaning slowly into the slack until there was no room left to lunge.

The woman stared at her after she finished swallowing, eyes searching her face. She raised her fingers, but left them hovering just above the skin of Angua’s face. The strange scent, barely discernable as the woman came close, was suddenly in her nose. She snarled before she could stop herself, and the woman hastily backed away.

Her face crumpled in distress, and the scent faded more quickly than her retreat. “Why are you angry?” the voice was almost agonized. “It’s such a simple need, but so strong. You must’ve burned for so long.”

“Whatever you think you know-” Angua cut herself off, but the woman was already answering eagerly.

“You burn for his body, and you burn for the desperation of his reaction. Why do you not want this need satisfied? And you.” She turned to Carrot and raised her hands again. “Your need is even stronger, and even simpler to relieve. You desire to react – you ache for it in your body. It’s a bright, new need. You will never take such comfort from it as you do now, and I can give you that comfort more purely than you will ever find again.”

This time Angua didn’t avert her eyes as the flush gathered in Carrot’s entire body. “You’re right.” He swallowed and raised his head. “I had that – reaction – for the first time in my life last week. It was an unexpected pleasure. Angua is a werewolf – she sees the world in smells. Since then, she’s encouraged me to find a way to repeat the experience, for my pleasure and because she takes pleasure in my pleasure. Which, because of her discernment of scents, I couldn’t hide from her.”

Angua hadn’t even made that connection, but the consideration distracted her from mortification that he had known what she wanted all along.

“But it is her choice to use her insight to attempt to prompt me to choose to indulge myself. Whatever service you have been forced into, you don’t have to use your insight to demand indulgence. And we can protect you. Come away from here with us. You can live, and never have to participate in harming people ever again.”

The woman shook her head. “I know I offer no harm. I create nothing. Your need burns in me even now. I do not control your reaction – that is in the air itself. You fight it even now. Whether I comfort you in that or not, you will give in. And then your need will burn me, and her need will ignite to burn me. Why- “

“You feel our desires in your own body?” Angua interrupted, horrified.

“Only that you need. And then I discern your need.”

Carrot looked disturbed. “It really seems an odd coincidence. Are you certain you cannot-“

“I am what I am.”

Angua slumped against her wall and closed her eyes. Her need ignited the craziness? So she would control her need. Libido off, right? Right.

Carrot spent a few more minutes making his ”we can help you” pitch, but the woman remained locked in her seemingly honest confusion. When she had finally absorbed that they truly did and would continue to object to her offered “comfort,” she retreated back to her place beneath the stairs, saying only, “I am what I am. I will do what I can do. She sees the truth of the world in scents. I see it in other ways. The truth, now, is that you do not want my comfort.”

She would say nothing else. She disappeared into the shadows again, but this time neither of them were prepared to trust that she was really gone.

Angua couldn’t stop herself from studying Carrot as they stood there in silence, wondering despite herself at his words. He couldn’t have been more clear. He had sneezed for the first time in his life in the granary that day, and it had aroused him. The thought of that, of-

No. No. She would think about that later, after they were free.

Still, she watched him. She couldn’t get it out of her head, what the woman had said, what Carrot had seemed distressed to confirm.

“So, that, mold. You can smell it here?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that. It seemed to startle him, and she saw his penis twitch slightly. Just the thought of it could make him-?

No. No. She was not thinking about this.

“You can’t?” That he could look abashed and incredulous while chained to a wall was ridiculously adorable.

“We’re near the river. I can smell fifty kinds of mold without taking a deep breath. I don’t know which particular one it is. How can you sort it out?”

He swallowed and breathed deeply, and she saw both his nose and his penis suddenly twitch. “By its effect.”

Of course.

“I think we’re both still under some influence. Whether she means for us to be or not.”

He was looking almost cross-eyed down the length of his own nose. She suddenly couldn’t take her own eyes off of it, so he was probably right. The trembling was starting again at the arch, and though he seemed to be keeping his nostrils still by a moral effort, they were shading toward pink again.

“Carrot, I think- I think- “

“I know. I- snnff!” He shivered slightly, then offered her a very small smile. “I’m shackled to a wall, and all I can think about is how much I would like to blow my nose. No one could ever say we don’t have interesting lives.”

She suddenly imagined doing that for him, covering his nose in soft cloth, rubbing lightly-

She groaned and tried desperately to clench her thighs against the pull of the chains. She made herself grit out, “It’s certainly never boring.”

“Angua?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to- I am going to have to- to sneeze again.” He breathed carefully, started to sniffle again, then breathed out in a huff instead. The word alone brought an even stronger twitch from his penis. “And I can’t seen to control the- other. Either other.”

“Either?” she was beginning to pant as a drawing sensation gathered in her nipples again. She noticed distantly that the woman had reappeared a few feet away, but she couldn’t make herself care. She was aching inside.

“Before, I seemed to have to- to talk about- it.”

“Just- Carrot, just, stop fighting it all.”

“My nose has been itching for so long, and the, the sneezing before, I need to blow my nose so badly, and when I sneeze it’s going to be so wet-“

Somewhere in that explosion of words he’d thrown his head back and relaxed into the wall, his hips thrusting forward as a flood of blood raised him toward full arousal. She shuddered all over and sank down into her chains.

The woman stepped to stand just in front of Carrot. Despite giving herself over to the experience of scent, Angua cracked her eyes in time to see Carrot look down at the woman. He looked tired and flushed, and his expression was a contrasting waver between complete dispassion and wild unspecific hope.

The bridge of his nose trembled, and he was breathing through his mouth to keep from sniffling and irritating nostrils that were shading much more quickly into red this time. The woman didn’t touch him, just stood staring until his breath began to quaver.

“You want my comfort now,” she stated simply. “Tell me how. What, exactly.”

“My nose,” Carrot whispered. His voice was thick with the gathering congestion in his sinuses, and Angua saw a glint of moisture at the rims of his nostrils. “Please. I don’t- heh don’t want to, to s- to-“

Angua couldn’t tell if his hesitation was due to mounting irritation or the mounting arousal at thought of the word or the act. His hips shifted restlessly against cold stone, and Angua growled silently in want.

“-to sn-sneeze hehhhn … like this. A- a handkerchief. Could you- ?”

“You had only to ask.” The woman slowly drew a piece of cloth from her wrappings, only to study it consideringly while Carrot writhed.

“Ah-hah hahh! ” He was sweating in the cool air from the effort not to breathe through his nose. When she just stood there, seemingly lost in contemplation of the fabric, he gasped out, “Pleads! Hur-huh -hurry! Hyahhh– Hah! Huhhhh… Hah!! I’m about to, uhhh…uhhhh– I’m about to, s- snneeze–ahhuh- yihtshhtshtshtshpshhhyitchipshooo!!!Uhhh…..”

The women had moved in the last instant to capture the overpowered nose, and Carrot groaned deeply in relief after bowing his head into the blows and drenching sneezes. He hung there, shuddering, while Angua couldn’t repress a strangled howl.

Carrot started to raise his head from the cloth, but the woman’s hand went with him. He closed his eyes and sniffled deeply, and was so affected by it she saw the tip of his cock begin to glisten as well.

The woman’s hand was moving slowly, stroking the violently quivering bridge, patting at nostrils that spasmed without the help. She kept touching, and touching, and touching, until Carrot struggled away and burst out “nih! No! You hayehh! hehhh- You’re going to- tehh-“

His voice, breaking into breathy weakness, made Angua take a slow, deep breath of her own, and felt sensation flow out through her limbs in a slow wave.

“To make mehh– ehh- ehhuh- ehh!” He was still struggling, just his head, and the woman was wordlessly, patiently, following him, pat pat pat. “Stop…” He managed that clearly, unconvincing, his voice becoming heavy as congestion returned.

And she stopped, pulling her hand away and regarding him calmly as he almost thrashed against the stone. “Tell me what you want.”

His lower body was writhing upward, obvious in its need. Angua’d never seen him so hard. His nostrils were an equally fierce scarlet, his whole face contorting around his trembling, desperate nose. But in proof of his second “either” what he managed after a pleading groan was, “Ask me.”

The woman radiated gentle sympathy. “‘Your nose- what does it feel like? What does it need?”

He closed his eyes and gave several harsh pants, and Angua felt herself come, disappointingly, unspectacularly, in pure conditioned response to Carrot’s completion. She heard a single, sharp, “Tshh!!” She gasped a bit, and sank down into the sharp, shallow pulsing with a swallowed moan.

Her eyes shot open again when his scent didn’t change. He was shuddering, and his penis was glistening, but he’d held himself back from the edge. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and his jaw was slack.

The woman gave him a few moments, and slowly his eyes focused slightly, just enough to show his fevered attention was not with his tormented lower muscle. His voice was low and hoarse. “It- it itches. All the way inside. Up into my head, there, where Abol reached, he reached, ahh!” He bowed his head with a shudder, and Angua felt her body quicken again, raw and unexpected. “And the tip. The tip feels like flame, and so full, m- my nose is so full. Huhh!“

His hands were clenching and twisting, his hips were doing the same, but his attention seemed consumed by the virgin experience of his tormented sinuses. “It’s pressure and it’s so wet and it soothes the itching and makes me itch, and if I sniffle its so wet but it sets me on fire. “

The woman turned to give Angua a small smile. She seemed genuinely delighted by Carrot’s overwrought rambling. Turning back to him, she raised the hand still holding the cloth and asked, “And when you blow?”

He groaned and twisted. Every muscle in his face seemed to’ve woken to give testimony to his continuing, gathering distress. “Such release. From so far inside. And the tip. The flame, the cloth is so cool.” His voice was getting heavier and heavier, and the hint of wetness was touching his nostrils again, sending them into tiny twitches.

“Tshh!! ” She watched him that time, and understood why it hadn’t sent him over the edge before. That was no release, just a harsh payment for momentary reprieve. His head hung, his nostilis flared rhythmically, and he gasped a slow, shuddering breath as his nose began to truly run.

“You want to sniffle,” the woman observed. “Why do you deny yourself?”

“Too- too much… Pleaths.” His eyes were actually pleading now. “Let me- hayhee! Hehhhn… Before I- hahuh- pleads-“

Angua felt absolutly drained, unable to struggle against her bonds, even to clench her thighs. A hot tide was pushing her body somewhere it’d never been.

The woman lifted the cloth above Carrot’s face, and he looked up with a look of almost transcendent hope. With a slow flutter that had him thrusting upward, his entire face a spasm of need centered around his hot, pulsing, trembly nose, she brought her hand down.

She maintained her paced descent, wrapping his nose in the cloth, allowing him room as he shuddered and burrowed, fighting to draw enough air to blow as his breath began hitching frantically, pausing only when his head jerked upward, struggling against his will.

His face cleared the cloth, tendons standing out in his neck evidence of his protest. “heh- heh- heh-! hehhhnn- het! het! No-! Khih-heh-!“

Angua’s hands fisted, and a growl started deep in her chest. She wanted to snatch the cloth from the woman and give Carrot relief. That the woman would only be doing precisely what Carrot desired was a distant thought.

“Hyahhhtshhooo!!! Ahh!” He didn’t avail himself of the handkerchief, but his face looked miserable, and he turned his head back and forth, moaning. “No, I- I can’t. Not… Not… Hehhh! Not again…” He obviously wasn’t breathing through his nose, and it was beginning to drip. “I don’t want to, to- hah! to sneeze like this- oh. Uh. hyahhh!! huh-huh-psh!!”shoo The messy sneeze shook his entire body. He gave another groan and seemed to sink in on himself, expression bereft and miserable, but muscles lower down expressed an entirely opposite sentiment.

He hung there, his breath a series of snuffles, instantly aborted, that rapidly grew more desperate. The woman put a light hand on his bowed head, petting him gently, and brought the cloth butterfly-delicately to his nose, cleaning him up with a quick gesture, then hovering just before him as his nose reacted to the touch with a subtle trembling that seemed to set his veins on fire.

“Blow,” the woman told him.

The command brought his head down with a sag of relief. The touch of the cloth set his breath hitching and he whimpered. “Huh–uh! Huppshsh!!Tshshhh! Tshtshhtshhhhh!!” After the fifth sneeze he managed to blow, caught his breath, and blew again.

The woman gently cleaned him up again, refolded the cloth and gave his flushed but cooling nostrils a final pat. “This mold, it did this to you before?”

“Just once.” His voice was barely audible. “I only – sneezed – once before.”

“I am not causing this difference. Perhaps the longer you’re here- hmm. I have heard of such a thing. Just a tiny bit of something inhaled, for a while, then eventually just a tiny response. But if it happens again, if it happens for hours, if it touches again and again and again, then eventually the response- I believe it’s called hay fever…”

Angua heard Carrot whimper, then his fists clinched and he gave a long, purposeful sniffle that reversed itself into, “itch! itchch! Hsh! Tchhsh!!“

The woman’s free hand fell to the long-neglected need lower down, as Carrot caught his breath and, “Hyahtsh!! Hahahhtsh!! Hyahtshtshh!! Hyahtchoo!! Hahtchootchuh! Hahuh! HyahhCHOO!!! Aaaah!” His final cry rose and then trailed into a gutteral, snuffling groan.

Angua felt a flash of lightning heat and, for the second time in her life and in five minutes, came untouched.

It was a literally screaming improvement over the first time.

"Sorry.”

”No. Sorry, I mean-“

”I know. I mean-“

“Yeah.” Angua pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, then blew out a short huff of breath and shook her head. ”No. We’re being stupid.”

She’d surfaced from comfortable grayness lying on her side on the cold flagstones, looking into Carrot’s still-slumbering face from a distance of a bare foot or so. She’d started up, a blank redness filling her mind and set on mayhem before any concious thought registered, and had come up against the burn of the silver-threaded manacles after a single long stride.

They weren’t freed; long chains had been attached from the wrist cuffs to the bolts at floor level. There was a bowl with chunks of boiled meat and vegetables that she’d narrowly missed kicking over, and a large tankard of what smelled like rather good ale.

Carrot’s eyes opened as she sank back down, feeling a wave of weariness follow the brief rush. They hadn’t spoken or looked at each other as they’d carefully shifted so they could both reach the food their bodies were crying for, Angua not even concerned, for once, with eating meat in human form. Mumbled apologies came at every accidental brush of fingers, until Angua spoke.

Carrot sighed and sat back slightly, flexing his shoulders against stiffness, gift of the cold and his struggles in his chains. “Is it- ” he stumbled, and then started again more strongly, actually looking directly at her, although she wasn’t at all ready to look at him, yet. “I’m- this is all very- hard,” he said, with typical Carrot understatement.

He gave a frustrated jerk that rattled the chains. “We don’t even know who took us yet, or why, or anything that matters. We haven’t had any time to think. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s not the point of this – all this.” She could feel the heat coming off him as he flushed, fiercely.

“All this,” she agreed softly. Carrot, angry, truly angry, was rare and disconcerting and made the wolf howl deep inside at the cause. She did the harder thing, and spoke reasonably instead of indulging it. She didn’t like the rare times when it was her turn to do that.

“But it isn’t. I think you were right. She really doesn’t understand – anything. Before my brain shorted out, I could smell it. She was – enjoying it all.” And she couldn’t quite keep a growl out of that and didn’t care. “But it was like a child. She isn’t a sadist or a pervert. She doesn’t get it.”

The twitching tension under his skin eased as she looked at him. “So if it is the point, she doesn’t know she’s being used. All right.” He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “All right. So. That’s what I really thought already. And that’s what makes it all harder. Isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer because it would’ve been a shout, and this was so very much harder for him.

“She is an innocent. She’s exactly what she says she is. Which means it’s all us.”

Angua closed her eyes briefly, but didn’t turn away. Finally, “Yes. All right? Yes. There wasn’t a damn thing in any of it that I didn’t want. Other than her being part of it, and since she’s the one doing the ‘reading’ or whatever… It’s all horrible. It’s force. But once I realized it was only exactly what you wanted- yes, I enjoyed it. Watching you. Whatever that smell is turns off all the inhibitions. You wanted it whether you wanted to or not and that was enough. And I’m sorry.”

“It was what I wanted.” He tried not to, but he ended up staring at his hands. “It was the most perfect- But I wanted it to be you. That was all I could think of. That it should be you. I didn’t care that I hadn’t chosen it.” He swallowed, hard, and his voice continued husky. “She isn’t here, and there’s no smell, and I’m so weary everything aches, but even right now, if I could-“

“Well, we do have a bit more chain.” She meant it lightheartedly, but he looked smaller than he usually did, unlike even those few times she’d seen him frustrated and at a loss and tired enough to let it all get to him. She knew him. A dwarfish upbringing didn’t lend itself to openly considering or discussing sexual appetites, even with the person you indulged them with. Teasing him now wouldn t lighten things up for him. It would just be cruel.

Even as she was thinking that, she realized he was looking directly at her, intensely enough that his body had gone still. And his scent…

”Carrot, good gods… ” lt was somewhere between a breath and a groan, and when she met his gaze it shifted from groan down into growl. The sheer, unbelievable, naked hunger of the man caught her breath in her throat and sent a heat coiling through her she hadn’t imagined she still had the strength for.

Her response, the rising heat, the spreading flush moving over her skin, waking sensation, melting under, welling heat through her veins with her speeding heartbeat, made him groan and curl in on himself, drawing his knees up to wrap his arms tightly around them, pressing his face down for a moment. He raised it, flushed, struggling, his lips tight, writhing, finally smoothing to a smile that hurt her eyes.

”Sorry. I’m not- I shouldn t be -” He shuddered, a subtle deep thing that seemed to shift him to his bones. After an uneven breath, he managed a smile that didn’ t look as if it would break and cut him. Still lost, beyond confusion or frustration but- better. “Angua, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry.”

She just stared at him until she could breath, then used it to give a low, darkly ironic laugh. ”Carrot, we’ve been attacked, taken, shackled to a wall, had our minds read and our bodies played, and left to lie on cold concrete after being driven to our limits and left in a muddled, hormonal daze. How the hell could you possibly, at this point, begin to know what you’re doing? l don’t even know what I ‘m saying right now, and I can hear myself as l go.”

It got a much, much better smile, actual humor, and she counted it a victory even as she struggled to calm down after giving in to the rant. Finally she added, looking very pointedly at her drink, “If I wasn’t afraid she’d come back and watch, I’d still want to, you know. It was – the most perfect.”

She heard Carrot’s breathing speed up. The scent of his arousal – which had eased only enough that she could make sentences – surged across again, deep down inside her when she drew breath. She expected another apology, more shame.

Instead he said, in a voice that had once led to them having sex against a wall with all their armor still on, “It was. And me, too.”

~~tbc?

There is a partly written Part 3 to this that has sat around for years but may see the light someday soon.

Comments and criticism welcome. ;)

#sfyrist writes #snzfucker #sneeze kink #sneezing #snz kink #cw noncon #cw noncon touching

37 notes · View notes

sfyristwrites · 2 years

Text

Try Part 1

Terry Pratchett's "Night Watch"

Carrot/Angua

Carrot always claims he's just like other men - er, dwarves -- but Angua dares him to prove it by trying to come down with something very human. Unfortunately they are taken hostage before anything happens. Aren't they?

PG but Part 2 is NOT

Very old fic, but I hope you'll like it.

“Try.”

“Angua, this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on. You’re built like the statues of your better class of god, half the city thinks you’re a king in hiding, most of the trolls will hesitate before grabbing at you – you’re pretty much impervious.”

“I’m very aware that my life’s been privileged, but not by any of that. I had wonderful adoptive parents who taught me how to live, and when l came to the city I met people I could learn from. I’m happy here, and I have a good life. But I work and – well, work, and buy my food and write home and talk to people and try to make my boots last just like everybody else.”

She hadn’t been listed, but since they were still in bed, she knew Carrot would just assume she’d take that as read. “That’s just it. You talk to everybody . You went into the Shades every day during that outbreak of Ankh fever. You play with dribbly kids all the time. I’ve seen you pet Gaspode, and you even grabbed Nobby by the breeches to keep him from falling off Misbegot Bridge last week. I’ve seen every bit of you, and not so much as a patch of yellow, or pink cheeks, or flakes or rashes.”

“I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve always wondered if the clean living back home -“

“Even dwarves get scabies and the croup, Carrot. Face it. You have royal blood, whatever you may say about the rest of you. No submission to all those little inconveniences that plague the rest of us.”

“Angua. I don’t know if you belong in that “us.” If you’re determined to exclude me from groups, wouldn’t it make more sense for it to be “bi-morphs” or “those who can get shot in the chest and be fine a day later?””

She rubbed her breastbone and he wrapped his arm farther around her. “Still hurts, though.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have -“

She dropped a kiss on his shoulder. “That makes me feel better . But, see. That’s what I mean. I’m different and I know it. I’m an outsider, and an outsider sees things other people don’t. You see the differences . It lets you – I don’t know. Yes I do know. It lets you understand the ways you’ll never understand them. That helps – it’s easier to sympathize or help or whatever if you know when someone’s a product of their culture and when they’re being utter morons on their own account.”

“I prefer to look at how similar we all are, deep down -“

“Then get similar! Get something deep down in you that’s similar. If you really are just like the rest of us, it shouldn’t be hard.”

“It seems rather a serious risk to take, just to prove a point.”

“I don’t mean something like Ankh fever or Nobby’s skin whatever. Just- something little.”

“If I had to take off work- “

“Sergeant Colon says you have over a month of time off due. Come on. If you really believe you’re just like everyone else, give it a try. “

“Oh – I still think it’s ridiculous – all right. I’ll think about it.”

She grinned and rolled over and kissed him. “You’ll see. You won’t be able to. You’re an outsider, just like me.”

Carrot was still troubled by what she’d said as he was proceeding down the last cobbles before Sator Square. He’d never thought of himself as being anything other than one of the common people, occasional uncommon events to the side. Angua said she enjoyed her outsider status, but he’d always taken that for making the best of a bitter pill.

But if he wasn’t as common as he thought, was her approach more honest and useful than his own?

He was certain that he was. He would verify it for himself while showing Angua. Sator Square would he a good place to start.

It only took him minutes to find what he needed. He’d seen Mr. Sobol’s son playing badly at football the day before. One look at the apple seller confirmed Carrot’s guess.

Mr. Sobol was a little over thirty, of medium height and a hard, light build. He worked all week gathering his product from his uncle’s orchards before bringing his bushels into town. He was a serious, honest man, and only survived in Ankh-Morpork even the length of market day by having sharp eyes and no compunctions about swinging the heavy, supple stick he kept behind his stall when provoked. His reserved expression lightened when Carrot greeted him.

”Oh. Hello, Captain Carrot. Would you like some of our red Quirms? Free of charge, of course.” His face was tanned, but he looked a bit pale underneath, and his “t’s” were sounding a bit like “d’s”. As Carrot haggled over what he would be allowed to pay for the tasty fruit, he watched the man’s nose. It was faintly red around the tip, and every few seconds he would flare his nostrils several times, then sniff.

Finally Carrot asked, “Are you feeling all right, Mr. Sobol?”

“Ahh, sorry. Just a bit under the weather.” With it acknowledged, he pulled a handkerchief from a back pocket and dabbed lightly at his nose. “My son’s always bringing these things home.”

His nose twitched again as he was rubbing it, and his eyes suddenly narrowed. He rubbed harder, then hastily ducked his head away from his display. He sucked air through his mouth in three little sibilant “hit” sounds before giving a quick “hit-eschtshuh!!” He sniffled apologetically and wiped his nose.

Before he could wipe his hands on his cleaning rag, Carrot paid him, touching his hands and making sure to give a coin that would require change.

He put them in his front pocket as he walked away. Taking out an apple, he kept switching it from hand to hand as he walked, making sure to finger the coins between every bite.

He thought he was off to a good start.

The eaves under the opera house provided another opportunity. It was a damp, drizzly day, and several street vendors had backed there from the road, desultorily calling out to the hurrying pedestrians.

Carrot walked along greeting them and refusing free merchandise (he hadn’t brought much money) until he came to Ferez Abol. The tall Klatchian smiled when Carrot greeted him, but he was otherwise occupied.

He had his hands cupped around his prominent nose and was sneezing fiercely through them. Carrot stopped as close as he could without intimidating the poor man and took slow, deep breaths through his nose. He thought he felt a slight tingle, but it might just be the chill.

When Abol had caught his breath, he shook his head and sniffled wetly, then proffered Carrot his right hand. Klatchian ideas about hygiene were different (the man wouldn’t have offered his left hand even if it were freshly boiled.)

He’d sneezed between his hands and toward the ground, and the Klatchians had no habit of hand-clasping, so it simply wasn’t an area where the man had any guidelines. “Captain Carrot, hello! Would you care for a fig? Very fresh, my brother brought the boat in yesterday morning.”

“You always have the best figs,” Carrot acknowledged, holding onto the hand as long as politely possible. “Will tuppence do for a bundle?”

“That’s much too generous! Here, for one-pence (since you will not accept a gift!), let me find a hand of the plumpest. Here, hee– hyee-! eeehyhh-!”

The sound was sudden and loud, sharp with irritation. He tugged his hand from Carrot and turned slightly away, the muscles around his eyes tightening as he seemed to will his nose still, his hands hovering before him, at the ready.

“A moment, Cap- Hhhyeeehh – ” His lips tightened to a line. “-ain Carrot – hhyehht’hhyehht’hhyehht – ” For another moment he held his face frozen, then Carrot saw a faint trembling at the arched bridge begin easing its way down. The reddened nostrils flared slightly, then again.

They gave a sudden, fierce twitch and Abol raised his hands to his face, cupping them loosely on either side. “Hyehtch!! Heeyehhtch!! Snnffehtchuh!! Snfhetch!! Snfhetch!!Hehhtchuh!! Hyehhtch – hyehhhtch!! Hyehhhuhehhtch -!-ehhtch -tshtch -tshtchtch!!! Snnffff -ahh! Huh.” The fierce, barely successful stifling had to be making his ears ring.

He shook his head and politely excused himself as Carrot blessed him. Carrot tried to hide his excitement. Even in the damp air the mist from the fierce expulsions had been visible, just at a height where he could bow his head and sniff deeply, and actually feel the moist droplets settling along and up and into his nose.

As Abol shook his head again, Carrot could see that his nose was still moving slightly, subtle flexes around the nostrils that were now an angry red.

He also noted the man hadn’t wiped his hands before reaching for the figs. As soon as the produce was passed over Carrot popped one into his month and began chewing very slowly.

Mr. Abol smiled at him through what was obviously an increasingly perilous discomfort and said, “Ah, it’s nice to see someone so enjoy the bounty of the homeland.”

Instantly guilty that his haste had been misinterpreted, Carrot repeated, swallowing, “You really do always have the best figs. Could I get another clutch for the fellows at the Watch house?”

“Of course! Let me – ah – a moment – ah hyih– devils take this itch – ehhhtchoo!!” His nostrils had been flaring wildly through the last half of that sentence, and Carrot silently complimented his self-control even as he bowed his head slightly in preparation to breathe in the cloud that was soon escaping from the cupped hands.

They were harsher this time, as if angry at having been prevented from escaping with their earlier siblings, and Abol’s attempts to minimize them were soundly unsuccessful.

“Hyehehhtshoo!! HyehtchTSHOO!! HhyehhhtchTSHOO – hyehtch!! Hih- heh- HyehhhtchTSHtssh – tchTSHH!! TshhtchTSHOO!!! Heh. Eh- heh- ” he panted for a moment, and Carrot breathed in deeply and rapidly, exhilarated that his attempt was going so well. He could feel the condensing vapor all through his nose, up into his sinuses.

He found himself glad he was getting so much exposure to Abol’s more sneezy cold, hoping the germs from this one would settle in deeply and overwhelm Mr. Sobol’s contribution, and didn’t notice what a strange thought it was.

Abol raised his head slightly, gasped a breath and gave a final, “Ah! Heh! Hehehheh- Hyehh! … Heh- hyeushhtshhuhhtshhtshhh!!HYEUTSHuh!!” He straightened, sniffling wetly, and Carrot quickly pressed the extra penny into his hand, with as much skin contact as possible. Abol smiled and began choosing figs.

Carrot noted the first one he touched, and took it for his sample.

Abol smiled, gratified, and wished him health as Carrot shook his hand again and proceeded on, sniffling carefully to avoid the loss of the most valuable thing the vendor had offered, a bit ashamedly hoping Abol’s gods weren’t listening.

In bed that morning, Angua didn’t ask any questions. He finally asked her, “How long does it take before you know if you’ve caught a cold?”

She stretched and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure. A day or two, I think. Why? Have you decided to try to catch one?”

“It seems the easiest and least harmful thing, that would mean the least time away from my duties.”

“So you’re already decided?”

“I’m already trying.”

She gave him her slow, enigmatic grin again and kissed him before they settled down to sleep.

Angua had been increasingly curious about whether there really was something slightly more than human about Carrot. About a week ago she’d decided on what to put him up to that would satisfy that question with no way for her to lose.

They’d been in a granary down by the docks, and he’d suddenly stopped dead in front of her, darted a confused look around him, and given a single, quiet sneeze. And in the next moment-

She’d never seen him sneeze before. The effect had been unexpected and intense. She really, really, wanted to see him sneeze again, to watch and listen while he did it longer and harder and louder, and hopefully over and over again.

She’d dreamed about it, her imagination providing details, and woken up almost wild for his body. There was just something about his face, his expression, the way the muscles moved. There were places she wanted to put her hands while he sneezed. And if he couldn’t manage it, at least she’d know, and he might stop denying that he was something other than a perfectly ordinary human-shaped dwarf.

She’d noticed that he’d been touching his nose a lot ever since she’d broached the subject, as if he were trying to coax some proof from it on the spot. That time in the granary had been the one and only time she’d ever heard him sneeze.

She wondered if it might be the first time he ever had. It would definitely be the first time he’d had a cold. Somehow, her imagination could do even more with that bit of information. She took all those imaginings into sleep, and had very interesting dreams.

~~tbc

#sfyrist writes #sneeze kink #sneezing #snz kink #snz fic #sneezefic #snzfucker

25 notes · View notes

sfyristwrites · 3 years

Text

Okay, so, experiment, take 2. Comments and criticism welcome.

Let Me Show You Part 1 18+

So, rather than put the whole story up here, which has three previous chapters, I'm skipping to the 18+ chapter. This is a chapter from a longer story, though, so forgive a few small digressions and a slow start, please. I tried to hack it down. Minors DNI.

This is fanfiction written very long ago, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but all you need to know is that Spike is a too pretty souled vampire and Xander is a strapping Good Guy. They're polyamorous with an ex-demon, Anya.

And Xander gets off on his own sneezing, some, but that's not his main thing. He's a 'never accept help' type partially because his main fetish is for being taken care of when he's ill or injured. Lights him right up, which of course makes it impossible to accept from anyone. Spike got a rumor Xander was sick and just tracked him down to Willow's basement apartment, scaring the babysitter to death along the way.

And, on to Part 1

(Part 2 is nothing but sex, if you want to skip ahead.)

Sophi stopped just inside the downstairs den, hearing heavy breathing and a low, murmuring voice, a little freaked out that the light wasn’t on.

“Xander? Is something wrong? The girls-?”

The light came on then, and Sophi saw both men standing across the long den, just outside the door into the bedroom. Spike’s hand was leaving the switch on that side of the room. His other hand was on Xander’s shoulder, up by his neck. They were facing each other, but Xander wasn’t looking up at Spike, much less at her.

Spike didn’t sound upset though. Kind of drawly and calm, actually. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re just going to take a rest here for a bit. You get back upstairs with the girls, ri-” he broke off, and his eyes went back to Xander, wide and suddenly a lot more intent, as Xander’s head finally came up with a desperate-sounding breath.

“It… ehh… hehuhheh… I c-can’t heehhlp it. I-Iaih… I’m going to – tuhhh– h’h’h’hyehh s-sn- hyuhhhTSSSHoo!! uh…”

Sophi watched in confusion as Spike murmured something under his breath, and Xander sniffled into his tissues. Xander seemed to freeze, then breathed out very slowly, and then Spike sniffed, and shivered, his eyes going very wild.

Sophi knew Spike was a vampire, but that had mostly just been one more strange thing about another of Buffy’s strange friends, until right then. His eyes had flashed yellow for a second there, and the way he was moving now, tossing his coat away over the sofa and pulling tissues from the box he’d carried off from upstairs to press into Xander’s hand wasn’t human at all, too quick and certain.

Xander seemed oblivious to any threat, though, and Xander should know. He took the tissues very slowly and touched his nose; sniffled. After a moment his breath hitched again, and he started to rub his nose, but Spike pulled his arm down, very slowly. The way Spike was staring at him, and the expression on Xander’s face, made Sophi turn and hurry to the door.

She made one last effort, because Willow and Tara would ask her if she’d asked. “Do you need anything? Xander? There’s all kind of cold stuff-“

Xander actually flinched, turning his face away and flushing. Spike sent her a lazy, angry look that made her step back, even though he was on the other side of the room.

Xander tried to pull his hand away from Spike, but the vampire wasn’t letting him go. “It… hyeh… it… it ihitches s-so hehhh… hyehhh– so b-bad hyih-hyih-!” Xander had his shoulders up, and his hands kind of helplessly in front of him, one of Spike’s hands around each wrist but not really restraining him now, and was looking really agitated.

The thin, high-pitched sound of Xander's gasp made Sophi wince, and when Spike reached to put a finger under Xander’s nose, she gave up completely on understanding anything.

Xander sighed and settled a little, not pulling away; made a little groan. Spike tore the bedroom door open.

“No one’s to bother us,” the vampire growled to Sophi as she fled up the stairs. She tossed back an “all right” and kept going. Spike was looking frantic, not releasing Xander as his eyes chased the young woman away. Xander seemed to be breathing very carefully.

Sophi heard the door shut, hard, and concluded she really, really didn’t want to know.

Spike locked the door and made sure of the charms even as Xander’s hands slid under his over-shirt and pulled him close.

Spike kept the pressure up beneath his nose as Xander’s eyes blinked and watered with unrelieved need. Kept it there until Xander finally raised his head, his mouth trying for an amused curve and making it as far as rueful.

Then Spike moved his hand and kissed him. He ran his fingers into Xander’s hair and made it hard, and claiming, and utterly impossible to mistake. Mine. His own hands ripped the over-shirt off, and his belt, then went across the broad back to pull Xander closer. Spike tightened his arms even as Xander broke the kiss and turned his head, trying to pull away. Xander might be able to bench press him, but he was no match for vampiric strength.

“No, Spike. This is stupid. I j-just- I- ehhh… Let go! I’m going t-tuh-huhhn… I need… n-need hehhh n‘y’niehh….”

“I know you do,” Spike told him in a low voice, using the hand in Xander’s hair to turn his head back with careful main force. Xander was resisting, but there was something spooked and ashamed in it, not real refusal. He got the dark gaze aimed at him, but Xander was still focusing anywhere but his own eyes.

As Xander’s chest heaved with a deeper breath, Spike slipped his finger back beneath the agitated nostrils. Xander’s eyes closed, caught by the banked but not faded need to sneeze, the hardness of Spike’s arms, and a dawning realization of what was about to happen.

His cold had simply gotten worse. Stage Three had him completely, the congestion had filled his head and gone warm and prickling and impossible; he should be gone, absent, hiding. Not held all but immobile with those blue eyes giving him no quarter at all.

This had been going on too long, for too many years, and Spike had decided the last time Xander invented a business trip because he had a bad cold that at the very next opportunity, he was going to put an end to it. Idiot white hat.

The same man who had run after the Slayer to take on a master vampire like Angelus, on no prompt but loyalty and with no weapon but a rock, believed he didn’t deserve even the most basic consideration from those he loved, because being ill or hurt was something to be ashamed of, his own fault somehow.

It didn’t keep Xander from wanting it, though, some kind of comfort, and that meant it left him ashamed, whether he got it or not. There was no way for the man to win that one, and for someone like Xander to be so bothered by something so easily remedied was appalling.

That it was a need so old, and so firmly denied, that it had turned into Xander being wildly aroused by offers and gestures of care, was actually all to the good as far as Spike was concerned.

Self-reflection wasn’t really his thing, but he knew he did enjoy taking care of those he loved. Xander was simply hung up on his own decency after being trained to accept the indecent as his due.

Watching people he loved hurt wasn’t something Spike had ever been good at, even before he won his soul.

Watching Xander struggle, against Spike’s grip, against his repressive finger, and more, against letting himself realize Spike was calling him out on this, Spike felt an overwhelming urge of his own, and decided to go with it.

He moved his finger, and even as Xander’s expression dropped, the urge to sneeze coming forward instantly, he kissed Xander in a way that left no doubt that there was no escape, not from Spike, not ever. No hiding, either. Never again.

Xander’s lips hardened against his, and Spike finally pulled back just enough to let Xander turn his head. “ihk’gyei’GYEITSSSCH!! uh…” Despite what was clearly a best effort at containing the force, the huge, messy sneeze shook his entire body. He tried to snuffle, but an equally shuddering sneeze interrupted. “in’g’GXTSH!!ah!” He did a better job of containing some of the force that time, but it had the opposite of intended effect on the messiness of the sneeze.

Spike eased his grip, offering the tissue box as Xander turned away and raised a wrist to shield his nose from Spike’s sight. He grabbed at the tissues without looking, his eyes watering, but before they quite made it to his face he choked on a violent, “IHGXTSH!!uu!! uh…” and flushed to the roots of his hair.

Spike let him go completely, then. Humiliating Xander wasn’t on the dance card for the evening even if, as a a vampire, he was hardly going to find something like a desperately wet sneeze particularly gross.

He’d felt it, though, the hardness pressed into his hip before Xander managed to turn. Xander was past any point where he could deny what this made him feel. Just this simple concern, this simple focus, had him so aroused his scent alone was driving Spike almost wild.

Xander blew his nose repeatedly, although it didn’t sound like it was doing much good for clearing his sinuses. His breathing sounded heavy and blocked even once he’d cleaned himself up as much as possible and tossed the tissues.

“Bless you” coming from a vampire would be too strange. Spike said, in a quiet, intense, testing voice, feeling his way, “Sucks being sick, love. If I’d known you were feeling off last night I wouldn’t’ve let Anya call dibs on the back rub.” He licked his lips, watching the slumped shoulders. “If your cold has given you a headache, I could give you one now, if you like. There’s nothing on tonight, so I was thinking of getting you into bed, tuck you up. Take care of you a bit.”

Xander just stood there helplessly, not looking up, even as a subtle shudder moved through him. The reaction was unmistakable. Xander’s eyes widened in something very like panic, and the scent of his arousal came stronger, so that Spike had to touch him again, running his hands across the broad, hard back, permitting no escape. Xander turned the helpless look on him, then, his body rose hungrily to meet Spike’s, shame rising behind his eyes.

“Don’t.” Xander said it quietly, and steadily, more centered than he’d been since Spike found him. Just the one word, acknowledgment in itself that he knew what Spike was trying to do, knew that his kink was exposed. He craved this care so much, so desperately, even that small offer of kindness affected him down to his bones.

Ignoring him absolutely, Spike pressed a slow, light kiss to his lips, then brushed the reddened, twitching nose with his own.

Xander jerked, caught off guard, and had no choice but to spray a loud, violent, “Hyahhhtchuh!!” over Spike’s shoulder when the vampire refused to give him even an inch.

Spike shivered a little at the movement of the broad, hard body against him, and went back to dealing with clothes as Xander panted a bit. Specifically, with getting Xander out of his. He kept murmuring little things, like he’d been doing when Sophi found them. Would-be nonsense in the vein of “sorry you’re sick” and “your poor nose” and “Xander, you should rest.”

“Spike- n-no, snfl! Stop it. I mean it.”

Oh, he was, he was coming down with such a cold. Xander’s voice was deep and slightly hoarse with congestion, and he sounded tired, despite it all. Spike felt a fleeting wish he could back off, give the man some medicine and let him sleep. But the point was that he wouldn’t accept even that much. Not yet.

The sensation seemed to bank just short of causing a reaction, leaving Xander working his face frantically, his eyes squinting, his nostrils flaring restlessly, unable to concentrate on actually trying to get loose.

“Spike, at least let me g-go. Ihih… I need- hyehhhhuh…”

Spike guided them to step out of their pants and pushed Xander until the back of his knees met the bed. He was going to listen to Xander’s body, not his mouth, in this. Not his arousal – every line of the hard, solid body communicated a desperation barely checked by shame.

So, another kiss, and another quick brush of his nose over the twitching nostrils, a light, ticklish nuzzle. The sensation overcame Xander even as Spike’s body came down on top of him in the soft bed.

“Hyuhhtchoo!! Hyeh- huh… uhh. hie‘g’ih‘gyuhhhTSSSHuu!! uhh…” That quickly, his nose began to run again. Spike leaned up without shifting his weight and reached for the tissues on the bedside table when he saw the embarrassed blush rise again. Humans and their squeamishness.

Xander pressed his own finger beneath his nose, trying to sniffle, clearly unrelieved. His whole face scrunched up as his nose wrinkled despite the firm pressure. Then the dark eyes flashed a dawning realization of helplessness, and, “hk’GYEITSSSCHHyeh!-huh- GXTSSH!!uu!! Oh…”

His hand was cupped over his nose after the violent double sneezes, his eyes heavy and beginning to look exhausted with the whole thing, but the arm that had snuck seemingly without his command around Spike’s back only held on tighter.

Spike started to move his hand, to bring his tissues to Xander’s nose and clean him up, but Xander rallied at that, actually squirmed up on the pillows against the headboard. “Spike-” He breathed heavily and sniffled wetly and snatched the tisses for himself. He blew his nose , and blinked at Spike, who had in no way surrendered his full body coverage. Xander closed his eyes. “I get it, okay? I get it and thank you and- whatever. Just- leave me alone, okay? I just want some sleep.”

“Leab me alode” was the best diction in any of it, and Spike shook his head and sat back on his heels, still keeping Xander pinned between his thighs. “Blow your nose again,” he said quietly, pulling the box into easier reach on the bed.

“Spike.” Xander shivered despite himself. He was getting angry now, trying not to, but getting there. “Go. Away. I don’t need-“

Spike knew what he needed. This was Xander’s kink, Xander’s need set blazing, but anything that turned Xander on this much lit a fire in Spike, too. He knew what Xander needed. But he’d get it in his own time. This was about something else, first.

He sat up straighter as Xander squirmed further up on the pillows to try to clear his head more thoroughly, straddling the broad, hard thighs and looking down into the dark chocolate eyes, something in his chest tightened in a way that made his mirroring arousal almost insignificant.

“You’re right, you know,” he said quietly, after Xander sank back with a tired sigh. “You don’t need. You’re a grown man who got himself a cold. You don’t need someone petting you for that.”

Xander swallowed and nodded and sniffled, his whole body seeming to quiet. The shame was back, but the dull resignation in his acceptance seemed to actually let him relax. Comfortable, familiar pain and shame.

“It’s even ridiculous, isn’t it?” Spike continued through a tightness in his throat that dropped and darkened his voice. “The idea, I mean. A grown man, needing someone to ask after him, or fetch and carry for him, or tuck him in. Pathetic, really.”

Xander was watching him closely, now, caught somewhere between conflicting parts of his own mind, conflicting patterns. The part of him that took Spike’s words as truth beyond question, and the part that recognized the saying of them as cruelty, and knew Spike would stake himself before saying something cruel in cold blood to someone he loved.

“Someone who needed something like that. Someone to take care of him.” He rubbed his hands over Xander’s chest, to his shoulders, rubbing in carefully to tight muscles. “A man like you – it would be ridiculous.”

He leaned down until he could feel Xander’s breath, warm against his face, until Xander’s eyes had no choice but to meet his, and dropped his voice. “You want it, that’s different, so here’s the thing. You don’t need it, not any of it. You never did. Not as a man, not ever- You think I don’t know-”

Spike cut himself off at that. Not the time. “You’ve always gotten by when no one was even looking to notice you needed help, from long since before you should have. You don’t need this.” He rubbed his hands in again, soothing, and kissed Xander’s forehead lightly. “You don’t need it.” He rocked his hips forward, naked bodies sliding into heated contact. “You don’t need it.”

He said it several times, kissing the corner of Xander’s mouth, between his eyes, seeing something in the worried eyes ease at the mantra, the touch of cool lips. Waiting until Xander’s resistance had faded, until he wasn’t anticipating anything except sex or thinking there was anything coming from Spike except horny vampire. Then Spike leaned all the way down. “You don’t need it,” he breathed against Xander’s lips.

“You deserve it.”

Part 2 coming soon. All the sex.

#no #sfyrist writes #snzfucker #sneeze kink #snz kink #sneezing #two long established lovers #have consensual mildly #nonconsensual play briefly

19 notes · View notes