“Briiiiiiaaaaaaaan… fuuuuuuuuuuck... Briiaaaaaannnnnn,” I moan. Usually these words would precede a please or a more or a harder. But right now all they’re followed by is a miserable hacking cough.

I hear a snuffle beside me, then: “If you think you’re getting any sympathy fro- ACHOOO!!”

“Bless you.”

“Fuck you.”

I roll onto my side and watch as Brian blows his nose into a handful of Kleenex. “It’s not my fault you’re sick,” I grab the tissue box from him and pull out a couple for myself.

“The fuck it’s not. You’re the one that got sick first, so therefore, yes, it is your fault I’m sick,” Brian swipes at his nose one last time with the tissues, then tosses the wad to the side of the bed, curling up under the covers again.

“Well, I didn’t force you to kiss me,” I say, blowing my nose between breaths. “Or fuck me. And I told you that I had a sore throat, but you called me a princess and then-”

He weakly pushes a spare pillow at me. “Enough. My head is fucking pounding. Just... be quiet, okay?” he groans and throws his forearm over his eyes, sucking in a shallow breath and coughing as he lets it out. “Fuck,” he mumbles softly.

I put my hand on his arm and lower my voice. “Why don’t you get an Advil or something? You’d feel better.”

He lifts his head the tiniest bit and peers into the kitchen towards where we keep the medicine stuff, then drops his head back down. “Too far,” he groans.

I follow his gaze and consider getting out of bed to get it for him... but my head is pounding and my nose won’t stop itching and my eyes are watering and I feel like I swallowed a canon ball and it’s lodged in my throat and... I let my head fall back to the pillow and breathe through my mouth ‘cause my nose is completely stuffed up.

“Yeah,” I sniffle. “It is.”

“Shhhhhhhh...” he says, then sneezes again.

“I hate this,” I groan and open my mouth wide to try and unplug my ears.

He glances over at me for a long moment, then laughs softly. “Practicing sucking my cock?”

“No, it’s my ears... they’re plugged up and I can’t fucking hear.” I jam my finger in my ear as if that’ll somehow help, then try opening my mouth wide again.

He rolls his head on the pillow and sighs. “Stop it.”

I swallow hard, grimacing at the rawness in my throat. “Why? I’m not making any noise.”

“I want you to stop because it’s making me wish you were sucking my cock,” he rubs his hands over his face, then pushes them under the covers.

“Trust me, I wish I could too,” I say, blowing my nose again. “But I don’t think that would be the best idea since I’d probably fucking suffocate.” I grin at him, and he looks at me, scrunching up his face.

“It’s been two days you know,” he says, and starts moving his hand under the covers. “Since we’ve fucked. Two whole goddamn days.”

“And we’ve spent nearly that entire time in bed without fucking.” I let my hand creep down to the band of my pajama pants and slide my fingers underneath.

“Gotta be some kind of record,” he mumbles, tries to laugh, but ends up coughing. “You know this is all your fault,” he tries again, but I’m not buying it.

“Yeah well it’s your fault I’m hard now. And there’s nothing we can do about it,” I touch my cock and let my scratchy eyes slide shut. Christ, I wish he could fuck me, but I know we’d both end up having coughing fits.

He slowly shifts over to his side, facing me, then pushes a bunch of Kleenex into his face again, blowing hard with a big *honk*.

“Sexy,” I roll my eyes and stick my tongue between my teeth.

“If I didn’t feel like I was going to die, I’d roll you onto your stomach, climb up on your back, and push my cock into your tight little hole so fast and so hard that it’d wipe that smile off your face,” he closes his eyes as if going through the motions in his head.

“Christ, Brian,” I close my eyes and imagine it too, squeezing my dick lightly between my fingers. “Don’t tease.”

He laughs softly, then sniffs loudly.

“C’mere,” he motions me over and I shift closer to him, swiping at my nose with the back of my hand. My face feels hot and my skin burns, and not in that nice sexy way it usually does when I’m in bed with Brian.

He reaches under the covers and pulls on the band of my pajama pants, slipping them over my hip. I lift up so he can push them down around my thighs, freeing my hard cock.

The duvet rustles as he does the same, pushing his sweat pants down around his thighs. He sticks his tongue in his cheek and sniffles before grabbing my wrist and putting my hand on his cock. He’s hot and hard and closes his eyes when my fingers wrap around him.

Then his fingers are on me and we’re jacking each other off like we’re 15 and in high school, but god*damn* it feels good and when he swipes his thumb over my slit and squeezes me hard, just there, like that... oh...

My come spills between his fingers and I pull on his dick faster, bringing him with me, coaxing the come out of him and into my hand. It’s warm and sticky and he sighs and smiles, still stroking my softening cock slowly, making me shiver.

“You know...” he says, grinning and wiping my come from between his fingers with a Kleenex. “I completely forgot about my headache and fucking itchy eyes for the ten minutes you were jacking me off.”

“We might’ve actually found a cure for the common cold,” I laugh and roll onto my back, dragging my fingers across my chest, leaving long wet stripes of his come on my skin.

“We could be rich,” he says lazily, and sighs loudly, satisfied.

“You already are rich,” I say, looking over at him.

He grins. “Richer, then.”

I close my eyes and take in the warm feeling of sex in the air. “Brian?” I ask after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah?” his voice is heavy and deep.

“Maybe we should... you know, test the theory,” I ask him, sniffling back my runny nose and touching my cock again.

He shifts closer to me and pushes my hand away from my dick, replacing it with his own and stroking me softly. “You think?” he asks.

It feels so good, and I curl my fingers behind his neck and pull him to me for an open-mouthed kiss, swiping my tongue against his.

“Keep doing that and we’ll both be sick for days longer,” he warns, grunting a little in his throat as I wrap my hand around his cock.

“Don’t care,” I say against his face and kiss him again, breathing through my mouth and kissing him at the same time. “Do you?”

He slides his free hand behind me and pulls me closer, tickles my crack with his fingers, then lets his hand creep lower, pushing against my hole with his middle finger. “Nope,” he says, rubbing his hot forehead against mine.

“Good,” I whisper against his mouth. My throat is still raw and swollen, my head still pounds, my eyes still feel itchy and dry and my nose is still stuffed up. But when he tickles my side and slides his leg over mine, pulling me to him... when he strokes my slippery cock slowly, and moans that way in his throat when I do the same back to him... none of the other stuff really matters.

And, as predicted, we’re both sick for the rest of the month.