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A/N: Hey! Just giving you a mess warning before you start reading, and noting that there is mention/illusion to below the waist excitement, but nothing explicit in my own opinion. If mods think otherwise, please feel free move it and accept my apologies!

Westerville library was a place of solitude. You'd think all libraries were supposed to be that way, each tired (probably overworked), enquiring mind ejecting themselves from the reality around them and surrounding themselves with the comfortable, far-away land of a book.

Or you could be a bum using a public computer to look up crack dealers on Craigslist; there's always that.

But despite what aloneness and silence you might expect from a library, Westerville Public Library was on another level. The cobwebs, left unattended so long even they began to look dusty, billowing down from the ceiling corners seemed twice as large, the books lay in disorganised, disarrayed piles, and the room was so dead silent that Elliott could basically hear his cells dividing.

Elliott wasn't sure whether he liked it here or whether the lack of any sign of life about the place (apart from the frail, grey-haired old lady sitting at the main desk, reading the latest issue of whatever weekly magazine suits post-menopausal old biddies best) put him on edge. He'd only ended up here because of the organised chaos that was a signature, all-out Harrison family Thanksgiving with all the trimmings. They'd had to have it a day early, due to scheduling issues with his cousins and their stuck-up parents that Elliott loathed to call Aunt and Uncle. 'High Society' could be a real bitch at times, and that was mostly when his extended family was in town.

He cast an eye down to his phone and noted the rather surprisingly late time. A look towards the front windows revealed they'd been covered with a splodge of inky black, compared to the orangey-yellow of sunset sky when he'd first came in. Elliott had always been rather talented at completely immersing himself in a book and losing all sense of timekeeping.

Just as he was about to resign back to what he not-so-fondly referred to as 'the mental asylum' around this time of year, a faint sound caught both his ear, and himself, completely off-guard.

It was a cough; a congested, chesty, 'trying-to-be-quiet' sort of cough that usually wouldn't garner any attention whatsoever, but in the crushing silence of the room, sounded as loud as gunfire.

Elliott's eyes immediately darted over to the desk once more, only to be greeted by the sight of the old lady fast asleep. Good; the cough was much too attractive for Elliott to be comfortable with it coming from her.

The only question that begged itself now was who on earth had it came from?

See, as far back as he could remember, Elliott had always had a quirk. As the magics of puberty did their work, said 'quirk' developed into a certain sexual desire. He found himself desperately attracted to vulnerability on a number of levels; most prominent of all, his attraction to men in the throes of illness (colds, flus and sneezing in general if you want to get nitpicky). Combine this with the boy's natural ambition and familiarity with getting what he wants, and Elliott was sure he needed to investigate further. For science.

After treading the area of the moderately sized library as lightly as humanly possible in search of the mystery person, Elliott finally struck gold. Ducking quietly behind the bookcase, he shifted an obstructive book a tiny fraction of an inch, giving him a decent view of the person sitting cross-legged on the ground, with a book in hand. Of course he wasn't spying! A Harrison would never lower themselves to such a standard, but then again... Elliott had just ditched them all in favour of reading alone in what should be renamed 'Westerville Public GhostTown'.

The man in front of him was admittedly one of the most beautiful people he'd ever seen. With a bone structure that could cut glass, and thick, wavy shoulder-length blond hair partly hidden under a grey beanie, the man appeared to exude his own unique brand of sexiness like it was a million dollar perfume. Elliott's eyes didn't know what exactly to focus on first; the man's lean, lengthy legs (that he could imagine shamefully well being wrapped around his waist as they-)

'Get a hold of yourself, man'

...or his seafoam-coloured eyes, not quite sure whether they wanted to be blue or green. Did it really matter a great deal what colour they were when they were so red-rimmed and rheumy?

The handsome stranger truly looked like the the icy, cuttingly wintery conditions outside had chewed up and spit him out. To Elliott's secretive delight, the man look so pathetically cold-ridden.

A faint flush could be seen highlighting his cheeks, despite the fact that if you looked closely, you would observe how the man is even shaking a little bit. His eyes were rimmed with irritated tears, his nose (noticeably large in size in comparison to his slender face, but thin and elegant with the slightest upturn at the tip) was an angry shade of aggravated pink, bordering on red around the nostrils. Shown by the couple of crumpled, greatly used tissues lying on the floor around him, dabbing, rubbing, and blowing at the sensitive appendage had been done an awful lot that day.

If the sound of the man's completely blocked up, congested snuffles were anything to go by, obviously all his efforts were in vain.

Just as Elliott's concentration had started to wane even just for a second, he was immediately drawn back in by the tempting tones of the man's breath hitching softly.

He looked back quickly and immediately caught sight of the man's pre-sneeze build-up. His damp, reddened nostrils flared fully, his mouth slowly began to fall open steadily, his eyebrows drew together, and his eyes began to squint, causing a single tear to overflow and slide slowly down his face. The guy's hand then rose to his face then just hovered in front of it in preparation.

The poor guy stayed caught in that look for over 20 seconds, and Elliott didn't even want to imagine the strength of the tickle ravaging the other man's sensitive, cold-ridden nose.

"hehh...hiiih...-hhhHHhhehh....h'ECKSHUH..." He sneezed, directing it towards a single hand held out in front of him, and it got absolutely drenched in the sheer volume of spray and mess in that one sneeze. He sniffled madly to (albeit uselessly) try and control the mess and scoured his pockets for a weak, crumpled up tissue, but it was no use. The thick, watery mucus was dripping down from his sensitive nose and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Elliott simply couldn't believe what he was seeing, and had to bite his lip to keep from whimpering.

That was when mysterious man geared up for yet another sneeze in a series of multiples quickly to follow. After managing to produce an old, crumpled tissue he launched toward it desperately, "heh..h'itsschuh! H'tisshew... Eckssshuh!" . He may have had the tissue this time, but somehow was ineffective at covering completely, and so a fine mist of spray still managed to escape, and was visibly hanging in the air. The man wiped and dabbed himself up, and gingerly made an attempt at blowing his nose, but ended up only with being forced to cough due to the extreme amount of congestion in his inflamed sinuses.

He didn't know how it happened. Elliott had been sure he'd been so careful up until that point, the point where he accidentally let out a tiny semblance of a moan. The other male turned his head immediately toward to bookcase where the sound had come from, and looked inquisitive as he studied it. Wait, was that -

"I amb entertaindmbent for you, non?"

The only way Elliott could describe his voice, was like that of hot melted butter. Hot, melted, pissed off butter. His voice contained an incredibly strong French Parisian accent, so he could at least interpret he wasn't from around here. Although his heart-rate was going a mile a minute, Elliott knew when he'd been caught, and had no other choice than to face up to the other man.

Elliott hesitantly stepped out from behind the bookcase and sheepishly walked towards the still sitting man.

"It- It wasn't what it looked like, man..."

He would have carried on, stuttering as he was, except he then noticed one of the guy's eyebrows raise (as if to say "oh, really?") and how his eyes trailed downwards to Elliott's crotch. The crotch that was bulging from his pants.

Glowing absolutely beet red, Elliott awkwardly cleared his throat and said nothing as he went to step around the other man, looking for a fast exit, until that same man grabbed his hand as he tried to walk by.

"Alexandre. If you mbust spy ond mbe, at least you should have mby ndame" He clarified, a cheeky, all-knowing smirk that portrayed nothing but sin working it's way into his lips, the 'outraged and angered' facade completely dropped.

"And you are?"

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Omg Nebula! That was... AMAZING! Seriously. Just wow. Your writing is absolutely flawless the scene is just so vivid, and the characters are already so formed in my mind! I enjoyed that wayy to much :P Can't wait for more!

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I'm not even into messiness but that still punched most of my kink buttons pretty hard. Oof. I love the fact that Alexandre called out Elliott for enjoying his misery. "Nothing but sin," huh? Kill me now.

(at least I'll die happy)

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Aw, thanks so much for the amazing response, guys! I hadn't written a lot of fetish fiction for a while before I wrote this, so it makes me happy that I've still got the knack for it, haha :laugh:

Tbh I didn't plan on doing anything more with these guys (more of a spur of the moment piece of work), but if you wanted a bit more I could totally get on that sometime? With more interaction?

Eh, even if I do decide to just leave this particular pair, I'll certainly be more inclined to write more stuff for the forum in general :D

Thanks!

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Omigosh please write more? I love these characters already with just this little snippet, so I'm sure i'd love any others you write too!!

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