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The gentle sound of rain tapping against the glass of Frylock’s window and the clicks of his keyboard were the only sounds Frylock was aware of as he typed away at his computer, logging the findings for an experiment he had recently conducted. It had been an unusually stormy day for New Jersey for the time of year it was, but that was no concern of Frylock’s—after all, it was the perfect kind of weather to finally get such a straightforward task off of his plate.
He was so in the zone that he failed to register the soft raps at his door until there was a series of sharp knocks that directly followed, and Frylock jolted slightly at the disruption to his workflow. With a sigh, however, Frylock looked up from his computer to glance over at the door. “Come in,” he said.
Frylock wasn’t surprised to see Meatwad’s head poke into his room—Shake never knocked, not unless Frylock’s door was locked; and, even then, his knocking was accompanied by an incessant set of demands that he be let in—he was, however, made slightly curious upon the sight of the young boy; his expression was set into an exaggerated pout, his bottom lip poked out and his eyebrows furrowed. Usually, Meatwad approaching Frylock out of the blue with such a look on his face was a sign that the boy had been subject to some of Shake’s mistreatment but, looking over Meatwad, Frylock was unable to see any sign of the little boy being harmed or roughed up in any way.
Still, he raised an eyebrow at the kid and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“I gotta potty. Majorly,” Meatwad emphasized, and Frylock felt his brow raise somehow even higher.
“…Okay? Then go use the bathroom,” Frylock said, and he no sooner turned back to face his computer screen, slightly annoyed by the unnecessary halt brought upon his work, before Meatwad gave a dramatic huff as he trudged further into Frylock’s bedroom.
“Don’t you think I been tryin’ to? I ain’t that dumb,” Meatwad said, and he crossed his arms as he stared up at Frylock. The boy was now standing beside Frylock’s seated position at his desk, and he could see Meatwad’s irritated face staring at him through the reflection of his computer monitor. Frylock, still focused on typing, pursed his lips in an effort to keep from snapping at the boy.
“Then what’s stopping you?” he asked, still pecking away at his keyboard.
“Who do you think?”
“…Shake?”
“Mhm. And boy’s been in there for twenty minutes now!” Meatwad exclaimed before hesitating, “…I think. I ain’t all too good at countin’ time.”
Suppressing a groan, Frylock turned away from his screen to look down at Meatwad. “Well, what do you want me to do about it?”
“I dunno! I tried talkin’ to him, but he’s just been hollerin’ at me and tellin’ me to eff off,” Meatwad said, his pout deepening, and Frylock ran a hand over his face in exasperation.
“Alright, alright—if I go and talk to him, will you leave me alone?” At Meatwad’s responding nod, Frylock gave yet another sigh before pushing himself out of his chair, moving from his room to head down the hallway towards the house’s bathroom, Meatwad trailing after him.
From outside the bathroom door, there wasn’t much sound to be heard, but that didn’t mean much. Hell, knowing Shake, the man was either preoccupied with taking a shit or was currently… pleasuring himself. With a slight shake of his head to clear the thought from his mind, Frylock raised a hand to knock on the door in front of him.
“Jesus Chr—I’m not done yet, Meatwad!” Shake’s voice called through the door, and Frylock could tell simply by the man’s tone that his mood was far from pleased.
With a roll of his eyes, Frylock shifted his weight onto one of his feet as he crossed his arms. “It’s me, Shake, not Meatwad.”
“Oh… Then you’re gonna have to wait too, pal, because I ain’t done in here!”
“Well, Meatwad said that you’ve been in there for twenty minutes now, and I sure as hell can’t think of a reason you’d need to spend that much time in there!” Frylock huffed impatiently, tapping his foot. “There are other people in this house who need to use the bathroom too, y’know.”
Shake went quiet on the other side of the door for a moment and, before Frylock could speak again, there came the sound of their toilet flushing, followed by a bit of shuffling. A few seconds later, the clicking sound of the door being unlocked could be heard, and the bathroom door swung open to reveal a very peeved-looking Shake on the other side.
“There—was that so hard?” Frylock asked, only to be met with a scowl from the man.
“Bite me,” Shake snapped, and he stormed past Frylock angrily, clipping his shoulder with his own.
Frylock watched as Shake stormed off, grumbling under his breath as he moved into the living room, and he furrowed his brow at the man. Clearly, there was something up with him—both having to do with the man’s overly snippy attitude and the time it had taken for him to finish up in the bathroom. But, it was no pressing concern, so he turned to Meatwad with a shrug. “The bathroom’s yours, now, I guess.”
“Thanks—I thought I was ‘bout to pee my pants,” Meatwad said as he moved past Frylock to enter the bathroom, and Frylock grimaced at the boy.
“Don’t mention it— seriously. I don’t need to know all that, now,” Frylock replied, and Meatwad simply shrugged up at him before closing the bathroom door.
Now free to return to his earlier project, Frylock began to turn back towards his room, but he stopped in his tracks when he caught a glance at Shake in the living room. Though he couldn’t see anything besides the backside of both Shake and the chair he was sitting in, he could see the way that Shake looked to be sitting in the fetal position in his chair, his knees tucked to his chest, and Frylock got the distinct feeling that the man was sitting there and sulking. With a sigh, he decided to further delay getting back to his work as he began to approach Shake, electing to deal with Shake and his bad attitude before it could possibly spiral out of control and turn into one of the man’s infamous outbursts.
Walking the few steps it took to enter the living room, Frylock kept going until he was standing beside the recliner, staring down at Shake. Though he had surely seen Frylock’s shadow falling over him, Shake made no effort to acknowledge the him in any way as he stood there, observing Shake. With his legs fixed to his chest, his arms wrapped around his shins, and his chin resting atop his knees, Shake’s face was the epitome of a pout.
“What do you want?” Shake finally snapped and he, unsurprisingly, sounded annoyed to all hell. His voice came out slightly muffled, and it was clear that he had asked his question through gritted teeth. He turned his head just enough to look up and glare at Frylock through narrowed eyes.
“I want to know what your problem is,” Frylock said bluntly, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at the seated man. “Not only did you take twenty damn minutes to use the bathroom, but you’re also being an ass.”
“Oh yeah? Well you’re being a whiny, nosy bastard,” Shake retorted without even missing a beat, and his scowl deepened.
Frylock had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Look, Shake, you’re acting pissier than normal, and that’s saying something,” he said, and he placed one of his hands on the recliner as he leaned against it, his fingers idly tracing the fabric. “I just wanna see what the hell’s got you so riled up so I could try and help. I mean, sitting here on your ass and pouting like a baby sure isn’t gonna fix anything.”
“Well, your constant nagging isn’t doing me any favors either!” Shake exclaimed, glaring up at Frylock. “I mean, Jesus Christ, are you on your period or something?!”
“No, are you?” Frylock shot back.
Suddenly, Shake went quiet. He silently stared up at Frylock in the wake of the man’s question before his shoulders stiffened and he looked away, a slight blush coming to his face. “…Yeah,” Shake said reluctantly, frowning deeply as he hugged his legs tighter to himself and, suddenly, everything clicked; the time spent in the bathroom, the man’s short temper—hell, even the way Shake was sitting.
Frylock knew that Shake was transgender, but it was a fact that sometimes managed to slip his mind. Frylock, of course, accepted him—he himself didn’t exactly align with the gender he’d been assigned at birth—but it just wasn’t something that they talked about very often. Or at all, really. Occasionally, though, he couldn’t help but be abruptly reminded of that fact when Shake went on his menstrual cycle or, on the rare occasion they chose to do so, when he and Shake would have sex and he was met with a vagina rather than a penis.
“Oh,” Frylock said simply, the small bit of surprise he’d felt quickly washing over him, “you should’ve told me, man. I feel bad for being so hard on you now. Were there still pads in the bathroom for you to use?”
Shake stayed quiet for a few more seconds before he nodded his head, uncharacteristically timid now. “‘S why I was in the bathroom for so long, ‘cause I had to dig through the whole damn cabinet to look for ‘em.”
Frylock nodded as he listened to Shake, feeling slightly guilty—he’d been reorganizing the bathroom a few days ago, and he realized that he must’ve moved them from their usual spot when he’d been doing so. “Well, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Not unless you’ve got any aspirin somewhere around here, ‘cause these cramps are hurtin’ like a bitch,” Shake grumbled, and Frylock frowned.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure Meatwad took the last of it when he raided the medicine cabinet again, and I haven’t gotten the chance to get some more,” Frylock replied, and he couldn’t help but feel for Shake when he saw the way the man’s face fell in response to Frylock’s answer. “But I could brew you some tea if you’d like?”
“I’ll pass,” Shake mumbled before he buried his face in his knees.
He wasn’t surprised that Shake had denied his offer—the man had little to no taste for anything that wasn’t processed to hell. But, still, he had wanted to offer up anything that might help, especially when he saw how pitiful Shake looked while curled up in his chair, noticeably miserable.
After a few beats of silence passed between them, Frylock moved around from standing in front of the chair to the side of it, taking a seat on one of the armrests. After giving it a second of thought, he moved his free hand to start rubbing small circles on Shake’s back, and he soon felt the tension in Shake’s shoulders relax just a little at the action.
“…Thanks,” Shake muttered, and Frylock smiled in response.
“Of course, man,” Frylock replied, “I just wish that I could do more. It’s the least I can do for acting like a bit of a dick earlier.”
As he continued to massage along Shake’s back, he let himself think of ways he could further help Shake. Perhaps he could go to the nearest CVS and buy a bottle of painkillers for his friend but, with how late it was at night, he didn’t think that he was likely to find one that would be open.
He was lost in thought when, suddenly, an idea occurred to him. There was one method that Frylock was aware of to reduce menstrual cramps…
“…Shake?” Frylock hesitantly began, trying to figure out how to bring up his idea as his roommate turned his head to look up at him. “I… might know of another way to help you with those cramps of yours.”
“Oh yeah?” Shake asked, his interest clearly piqued. “What is it? Is it one of your nerdy, science-y things?”
“I guess you could say that,” Frylock said. “It does cause a rush of endorphins, and that can help with dulling pain.”
“Frylock, if you think I know what the hell any of that science crap means, think again,” Shake said, his voice deadpan, and Frylock had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
“I’ve heard that sex helps, okay?” Frylock finally blurted out, and the immediate look of surprise on Shake’s face nearly made him blush in embarrassment for merely suggesting it. But then Shake was blushing too and, if Frylock wasn’t mistaken, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.
“O-oh yeah?” Shake asked, and Frylock slowly nodded. He then moved the hand that had been rubbing at Shake’s back a few seconds prior to rest on the man’s knee, and he felt ever so slightly encouraged by the fact that Shake made no effort to shove the hand away.
“Yeah, um… we could—we could do that, if you’d like?”
“Well…” Shake said, his voice wavering in a way that Frylock couldn’t help but notice before the man cleared his throat, clearly trying his best to appear nonchalant, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. And how could I pass up free sex?”
Frylock raised an eyebrow at Shake then. “Free sex?” he asked, a touch of mock offense in his tone. “You make it sound like I’m some kinda hooker.”
“Hey, you’re the one who suggested it, buddy,” Shake said, and Frylock snorted, shaking his head.
“You’ve got me there,” Frylock said before he stood up from the arm of the chair, reaching a hand out to Shake. “C’mon. Let’s head back to my room.”
Shake took his hand and uncurled his legs, allowing for Frylock to hoist him to his feet. As soon as Shake was standing, though, a wince came to his face, and there was a noticeable hunch to his posture as they both walked back to Frylock’s bedroom. Frylock frowned as he observed his friend’s form, but he knew that, soon enough, some of Shake’s pain would hopefully be alleviated by what they would be getting up to.
They were both quiet so as not to alert Meatwad of what they were doing as they walked into Frylock’s room, and Frylock gently closed the door behind them before locking it. Meanwhile, Shake had already walked over to sit on the edge of Frylock’s bed, folding in on himself as soon as he was seated.
“You alright?” Frylock asked as he walked over to join the man, and Shake gave a shrug.
“Nah, but the sooner we get this thing going, the sooner I will be,” he said, and he then proceeded to turn towards Frylock, his hands outstretched towards Frylock’s crotch before Frylock caught his hands in midair.
“Damn, Shake, you ever heard of foreplay?”
With a huff, Shake gave a pout as his hands moved back down to his lap, and Frylock let out a chuckle at the man’s display of exasperation “Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that. Listen, it won’t take long to get to the good stuff, I promise. If anything, foreplay’s just gonna make you feel even better once I get you to cum.”
Shake’s face went a bit pink at Frylock’s words and, even if his face was still set in a bit of a frown, he knew that Shake had been convinced. “Fine, if you insist —but just make it snappy.”
“Good boy,” Frylock said, and he suppressed a grin at the way he could practically see Shake shudder over his words. He’d learned long ago from one of his and Shake’s previous sexual encounters that his roommate had quite the praise kink, and Frylock would’ve been lying if he said that he had not learned how to utilize that knowledge in their everyday lives.
“Shut up,” Shake mumbled as he looked away from him, and Frylock decided not to speak any further. Instead, Frylock brought his hands to the hem of Shake’s shirt as he took a seat on the edge of the bed close beside him, his fingers slowly fiddling with the garment before they slipped under it, coming to rest on Shake’s lower stomach. He could feel Shake shiver under his touch, and his eyes were closed as he leaned into Frylock’s hand. That was likely where the worst of Shake’s cramping was, but Frylock was aware from the man’s previous menstrual cycles that his friend often felt pain that radiated all along his spine and legs.
He began to run his fingers across the man’s skin, tracing invisible lines over the soft flesh, before his hands slowly traveled up the man’s torso, feeling the way that the muscle tensed up as he went. As he inched his hands higher up, he could see the way that Shake’s lips parted ever-so-subtly as the man inhaled through his mouth, and his eyelids fluttered, his eyelashes brushing against the top of his cheeks as his breaths came out in slightly shaky sighs.
“Fuck, Frylock…” he muttered, his voice sounding almost strained as he tried—but failed—to maintain his pout. “Are you going to make me wait here all damn night?”
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” Frylock replied, his voice a near-whisper between the two of them. He moved his other hand, the one not currently under Shake’s shirt, to rest it against Shake’s face, cupping the man’s cheek in his hand. “Be a good boy and I might reward you for waiting.”
A low whimper seemingly escaped from Shake’s throat of its own volition, then, and hearing that sound alone couldn’t help but tear some of Frylock’s restraint away. Suddenly, there was no stopping himself from leaning forward and catching Shake’s lips with his own, then, and Shake eagerly returned the favor, emphatically pressing their lips together. It was surprisingly gentle, however, and they stayed like that for a few precious seconds before Frylock pulled away, taking a second to admire his handiwork; Shake’s face was flushed beautifully, and his lips were already shiny from their kiss.
“God, you’re handsome,” Frylock breathed, and he hardly even registered that he’d said it aloud. But his words made Shake whine as he began to squirm underneath him, clearly trying to get some friction.
“And you’re annoying me,” Shake hissed, his hands grabbing at Frylock’s shirt as he thrust himself towards Frylock, and their lips were interlocked once more. They both fell back against the bed, then, and the sudden movement of their combined weight caused it to creak underneath them.
Their lips moved together with increasing fervor and, before long, their tongues were getting in on the action as well. Frylock began to push his tongue past the Shake’s lips, gently slipping it past his teeth; meanwhile, he started to press his body against Shake’s own, and he felt the man arch his back up to press himself against him, a whine in his throat. As they kissed—and as he felt the way that Shake’s chest pushed up against his own—Frylock couldn’t help but allow some of his earlier restraint to leave him as he gave in to his own urges, bringing his hands to grab at the man’s hips. He repositioned them on the bed, shifting Shake to rest in the middle of his bed as he moved to sit on top of Shake, his knees placed on either side of the man, pinning him in place. He pulled Shake even closer to him, causing their hips to grind together, and he was instantly met with a needy moan from Shake.
As Shake’s hips periodically ground up against his, Frylock could feel his own need escalating. His hands roamed across Shake’s body as he clung to him, one of his hands still underneath his shirt, and he grasped at the warm, bare skin beneath his hand. As his hand worked its way up Shake’s body, he felt his fingertips brush up against the fabric of Shake’s binder, and his hand trembled as it slowly snaked beneath the material. But before his hand could make contact with the outline of Shake’s breasts, Shake moved away to suddenly wrest off his clothes, and Frylock eagerly joined him in the effort. Shake raised his arms, allowing for Frylock to lift his hoodie and shirt above his head and, soon, the only thing covering Shake’s upper body was his binder—he wasn’t even wearing the yellow rubber gloves he so commonly sported, as they had slipped off with the removal of his hoodie.
His eyes trailed the black article of clothing—it wasn’t often that Frylock saw Shake’s breasts. He supposed it was his dysphoria regarding them that made it that way, but Frylock never saw him as any less of a man for possessing them. Still, his hand hesitantly hovered over Shake’s ribcage, and his eyes shifted to catch Shake’s expression.
“May I?” he asked, his voice coming out in a quiet, breathless whisper, and Shake only gave his words a second to linger before giving a short nod, his blush spreading to his collarbones.
With his permission granted, Frylock let his fingers slip gently under the tight, elastic hem of the binder and—with a quick look up at Shake to ensure his approval—carefully pulled the material off of Shake’s body and over his head, tossing it to the side and onto the floor.
Frylock looked down at Shake, then, and even with Shake’s breasts now out on full display, all Frylock could do was stare into the man’s eyes. They were wide and unrelenting, his irises a green chasm of vulnerability that exposed far more of Shake to Frylock than his lack of clothes ever could. The longer their eyes were transfixed on the other, the more furious the blush on Shake’s face grew, a testament to the man’s embarrassment, but Frylock saw nothing for the man to be embarrassed about.
For all of the arrogance that Shake so commonly displayed, Frylock knew that the man was, in all actuality, quite insecure about himself. While his egotism gave the impression that he was as confident as they come, it was all a front for the low self-esteem that he harbored—and it was most notable in the bedroom, where he was often exposed, both physically and emotionally. But Frylock saw nothing wrong with the man sprawled out before him. The blemishes marking his face, the gaps in his teeth, the pudge of his stomach—they were qualities that Frylock adored all the same.
“I mean it, Shake,” Frylock said, his eyes soft as he stared down at the rawly exposed man beneath him, his eyes catching on the multitudes of freckles and jagged scars that adorned Shake’s skin, “you’re beautiful.”
And before Shake could even say anything, Frylock leaned down to lock him in yet another deep kiss, his tongue slipping into Shake’s awaiting mouth for company. A quiet moan escaped from the back of Shake's throat as the kiss continued, and he felt Shake grasp at his shirt, giving it a sharp upward tug. Realizing what the man was trying to communicate, Frylock quickly slipped out of his shirt, the slightly chilly air of the room hitting his bare skin with a shock. He tossed his shirt onto the ground without any care as his lips reconnected with Shake’s, and said man proceeded to wrap his arms around the back of Frylock’s neck, pulling him ever closer, something that Frylock had no qualms with.
As they continued to make out, tongues tangled in a heated clash and hands roaming over each other’s bodies, Frylock began to shift his hips, making his own need that had been steadily growing throughout their encounter all too known as he rubbed himself against Shake. As the man beneath him let out an involuntary gasp, Frylock moved to press a kiss to the corner of Shake’s lips. He moved all across Shake’s face, then, pressing kisses across his friend’s cheek, until he trailed his way down to his jawline, kissing all along the curvature of it until he reached the milky-white skin of Shake’s jugular. He bit gently into the flesh of his neck, placing a trail of marks all the way down the side of his throat, a roadmap of Frylock’s affections.
Shake was nearly melting under Frylock’s touch, his voice coming out in small whimpers and gasps of Frylock’s name with every new love bite he received. His hands were clutching desperately at Frylock’s back in a vice-like grip, and his blunt fingernails left behind thin, white, crescent-shaped marks in their wake.
And, all the while, every sound Shake made—from the pants to the gasps, from the whimpers to the moans—was coming together to form a choir that was both music to Frylock’s ears and fuel for the fire burning inside of him. He was quickly growing tired of just making out; he wanted more and he wanted it now.
As if he could read his mind, just then, the sound of a needy whine came from beneath him, and then a hand tugged lightly at his dreadlocks. Frylock looked up to catch Shake’s eyes once more, noticing how the man’s eyes were now hazed over and watery.
“Frylock, come on…” he groaned, and Frylock could see the desperation in the man’s trembling body underneath him.
With one last kiss applied to the top of Shake’s sternum, Frylock moved his head upwards so that he and Shake were face-to-face and he placed Shake’s face in the palms of his hands. “I know,” Frylock said, his voice little more than a breath that grazed the skin of Shake’s cheeks, “I know. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. Just hang in there for me a bit longer, alright?”
Frylock’s words of assurance seemed to pacify Shake a little bit, and the man nodded, his eyes half-lidded as he let out a sharp exhale. “It hurts, Frylock,” he breathed, and Frylock let out a frown. His thumb rubbed across Shake’s cheekbone comfortingly, though, and he couldn’t help but marvel over the way Shake closed his eyes at his touch, leaning into it desperately.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Frylock replied, his voice soft and soothing as he moved one of his hands down from Shake’s face to rest it on his stomach. He felt the skin beneath his hand quiver under his touch, and his heart panged with sympathy as he could only imagine the pain that he had never felt. “But it’s gonna get better soon, okay? Trust me.”
He pressed a final kiss to Shake’s cheek before leaning backward to take off his pants. He quickly stepped out of his jeans, left only in his boxers, before moving on to Shake. He traced the hemline of Shake’s sweatpants, slipping his fingers between the elastic of the pants and Shake’s boxers. He pulled both of the articles of clothing down at the same time and tossed them to the side, moving to sit in between Shake’s opened thighs. Frylock could practically feel the impatience emanating off of the man, something that was made exceedingly apparent by the mere way Shake was squirming below him, but he couldn’t help but take a moment to look at Shake’s body, taking in the way that the man was completely spread out in front of him, utterly exposed in the way he was offering himself completely to Frylock.
And as much as he loved how Shake looked laid out before him—the way the man’s eyes watched him with a mixture of desperation and frustration as he took his sweet, sweet time looking him over—Frylock finally decided to take pity on his poor friend. He let his fingers softly ghost across Shake’s thigh, and a low mewl escaped Shake’s throat as he no sooner placed his face everywhere his fingers had touched. He dipped his head lower to kiss and gently nip at the expanse of Shake’s stomach, relishing in the taste of his skin, in the smell of his sweat. He moved to Shake’s thighs, then, and he pressed individual chaste kisses to every freckle, scar, and stretch mark that adorned the sensitive inner skin of his thighs. He felt his mouth move lower and lower until he could feel his lips graze over a patch of curls, and there was suddenly a scent of iron hanging in the air that met his nose.
Gently, Frylock spread Shake open with his fingers, and his fingers were met with the warm, slickness of Shake’s cunt. He traced the outlines of his anatomy, taking note of exactly how Shake’s body twitched in response to the steady placement of his fingers as they slid across the wet surface before him, until he, finally, circled the head of Shake’s vagina with his thumb. He rubbed it against the man’s clitoris, and the shaky moan that was let out of Shake’s mouth in response was so loud that Frylock had no doubt that Meatwad had certainly heard it through the walls.
If the noise had indeed drawn the attention of their roommate, however, it clearly was of no concern to either of them, as they both continued on without any pause. Shake’s back arched up against Frylock’s bed as his hips jolted upwards to push against Frylock’s movements. “Fuck— god, Frylock, more—”
And then, without a moment’s notice, Frylock moved his mouth down to Shake’s vagina and swiped his tongue across the slit before him. The moan that filled the room was immediate on Shake’s end, and Frylock’s nose was buried in Shake’s pubes as the man’s hips involuntarily jerked upwards at his display of cunnilingus.
At the action, a small noise of surprise escaped Frylock’s lips, and the vibration of the sound against the most sensitive part of Shake’s body caused a shiver to run through his friend’s limbs. After a second, Frylock could feel a hand run its way through his hair, its fingers gripping his dreadlocks for dear life. A quick glance at Shake showed the man appearing absolutely wrecked; his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back against the pillows, his hair fanned out across the rumpled sheets. One of his hands rested in Frylock’s hair, while the other hand was clutching at the blanket beneath him with such firmness that his knuckles appeared to be white. His lips were parted wide open as he took in shuddering breaths and the muscles of his abdomen appeared to twitch with every movement of his hips.
Meanwhile, Frylock continued to lick over Shake’s vulva, spreading the lips of Shake’s cunt apart with his tongue. The taste and smell of iron was overwhelming, but he still licked up a trail of blood dripping from Shake’s cunt and down the inside of Shake’s thigh all the same.
“Oh fuck— y-you like that, huh?” Shake asked, his breath hitched as he looked down at where Frylock was settled between his legs. “You actually like droolin’ all over my pussy, don’t you?” Shake was cut off by his own gasp for a moment as Frylock twisted his tongue around the man’s clitoris, but he was not quiet for long, his words interspersed with his heavy breathing. “Y-y-you like being my—m-my dirty slut.”
Shake’s attempt at dirty talk left something to be desired, but Frylock appreciated it all the same—as lackluster as it was, he knew that it was just Shake’s attempt at being considerate and providing Frylock with some pleasure. However, Frylock had no problem with finding pleasure in the mere act of causing Shake to unravel with every one of his ministrations.
One of his hands squeezed at Shake’s hip as he continued to work his tongue across the sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in the rapid-fire whimpers escaping Shake’s parted lips. As he licked up the length of Shake’s slit, he began to suck his enlarged clit into his mouth, and Shake let out a whine crossed with a shout in response. Frylock’s eyes moved to catch a view of Shake, then, and he saw the utterly demolished look on the man’s face, his face scrunched up with bliss.
With his free hand, Frylock let his finger trace the lips of Shake’s vaginal opening, teasing his hole, as he continued to flick at Shake’s clitoris with his tongue, sucking at it every so often. Shake was babbling nonsensically by then, begging for Frylock as he slowly slid two of his fingers into Shake’s blood-slicked insides.
His hand buried in Frylock’s hair gave a tug, and the pull sent a dull sting through his scalp. However, the pain only managed to contribute to his arousal, and he let out yet another moan against Shake’s pussy.
Slowly, he inserted a third finger, and he could feel the way that Shake clenched around Frylock’s fingers. “Holy shit, holy shit, I— Frylock, I need you, need you s-so bad, hngh—” He added a fourth, then, and Shake was suddenly cut off by his own mounting pleasure.
He could tell Shake was close, but Frylock wasn’t quite ready to be finished yet. After a second, he slid his fingers out from Shake and pulled away from Shake’s legs, still tasting metal in his mouth. He wiped at his mouth with his forearm as he looked down at the debauched man panting below him. “God, you look so good like this, baby,” Frylock said, his voice low and sultry as his dark eyes looked over Shake’s body, admiring the view. “Look how wrecked you are, all for me.”
Shake was breathless at this point, and his face was flush with a bright pink color. His hair was tousled and matted to his forehead thanks to the sweat worked up from the strain of all of Frylock’s exertions.
With his chest heaving, he ceaselessly attempted to speak a few times, his mouth moving without any sound leaving his lips, before he finally was able to talk. “D-did I tell you to stop? C’mon, Frylock, I need you,” he whined, seemingly uncaring of how desperate he sounded.
Frylock hummed, a small smile on his face. Even when he was being topped, Shake was still as demanding as ever. At that thought, his eyes trailed down the expanse of Shake’s body, admiring the redness of Shake’s skin and the sweat gathered at his collarbone.
“You didn’t,” Frylock agreed, “but I’m not done taking you apart quite yet.”
A loud, frustrated groan escaped Shake as he threw an arm across his face, huffing. “God, you suck.” Even if his words sounded angry, his tone and shaky voice gave away his arousal. “Just… j-just hurry up.”
Frylock let out a laugh. “Hate to break it to you, Shake, but you’re not exactly in the position to be telling me what to do, baby,” he said, and he gave one of Shake’s thighs a firm squeeze at the man’s impatient groan. He found an immense amount of amusement from teasing Shake like this, but he also had to admit that he himself was getting a bit fed up with the lack of stimulation, his arousal going unaddressed even as his precum had dampened the crotch of his underwear.
As such, Frylock quickly leaned across Shake’s sprawled-out form in the middle of the bed so that he could reach into his bedside table and pull out a condom.
“Oh, c’mon, Frylock, do you really need a condom? I’m on my period, I don’t think I’m gonna get knocked up,” Shake griped, his voice strained and impatient, and Frylock watched as a bead of sweat rolled down Shake’s temple before catching on a strand of hair that had fallen into his face.
“Actually, you can get pregnant on your period,” Frylock said as he opened the wrapper of the condom and shimmied out of his boxers, “so it’s always good to play it safe. Meatwad does not need a little sibling,” Frylock snorted, and he rolled the latex down the length of his already hard dick. “Now c’mere—”
With one swift motion, Frylock leaned down and scooped Shake into his arms, and Shake let out a gasp that he couldn’t quite manage to muffle as a result of the sudden action. He soon wrapped one pale arm around Frylock’s neck though, his other hand resting against Frylock’s ribcage, and Frylock could feel the quaking exhalation of Shake’s breath against his neck as he clearly felt the head of Frylock’s cock brush up against his entrance.
“You ready?” Frylock asked gently, and he felt Shake nod his head from where it was buried into the crook of Frylock’s neck.
“God, yes—I’ve been ready,” came Shake’s reply.
“Good,” Frylock said, and he shifted to properly line himself up. “Just tell me if it hurts or if something’s the matter, alright?” At Shake’s hum, Frylock began to move, and he wasted no time inserting himself into Shake.
No matter how many times they had sex, Frylock doubted that the effect of hearing Shake’s moan as he slid into Shake could ever be lessened or dulled. He pushed into Shake slowly, aware that his cock was much bigger than his fingers, but it took a conscious effort on his end to do so—his own lust was bubbling over, much like a chemical reaction from one of his experiments.
“Fuck,” Frylock breathed, “Oh, god, you feel so good, baby,” and all Shake could do was pant in reply. Shake’s cunt was slick with his own blood, making it all the more easy for him to begin to slowly thrust in and out of Shake.
A great, heaving gasp was brought forth from Shake’s lips, then, and he appeared to be desperately seeking to clutch at any part of Frylock’s body he could reach. His legs wrapped around Frylock’s hips, securing him to his spot as if he was afraid that he would suddenly disappear.
“Mmf— faster,” Shake ordered, and Frylock let himself give in to the man’s request, savoring the practical wail that Shake let out as Frylock plunged deeper inside of him than he seemingly ever had before. The bed was creaking under the force of Frylock’s movement, and the headboard rocked into the wall behind it so hard that, had Frylock been more lucid, he would’ve been made seriously concerned about the remaining money in their rent deposit. However, he was lost in the feeling of Shake’s fingernails digging into his neck, lost in the wet, clenched walls of Shake’s bloody pussy.
Their pace was increasing with every passing minute, and the sound of labored breaths, the gentle slapping of skin, and the squeaking of bedsprings were all that filled the room. There was a heat inside of him that felt as though it was turning his innards into liquid, and the only thought in his head was the anticipation of seeing Shake reduced to tatters. He wanted to greedily soak up the feeling of Shake clenching around his member in his orgasm, to memorize the sight of Shake’s listless form after his pain had been fucked right out of him, to fuck him so hard he wouldn’t be capable of walking straight for days.
He leaned his head down in search of one of Shake’s nipples, and he swiped his tongue around the raised bead of pink protruding from Shake’s right breast. Shake writhed underneath him, his back arching against the mussed-up sheets below him, and he let out a series of indecipherable noises at the newfound stimulation. Frylock sucked around the hardened bud, a zealous fervor to the movement of his tongue, and Frylock felt Shake’s tremor increase tenfold in his grasp, overstimulation the only thing capable of holding his attention.
With sweat covering his body, the air in the room was thick with heat, humidity rising to the point that if Frylock wasn’t sweating before, he was now drowning in it. His blood felt like it was boiling as it pulsed through his veins, but he still thrust until he could feel himself bottom out against Shake. He felt Shake clench around him involuntarily in response, and Frylock let out a moan he couldn’t help as his hips jerked forward yet again, in quick succession.
The noise Shake made was muffled, but the whine of it sounded distinctly pained, and Frylock worriedly slowed himself. “S-shit, sorry,” he said, popping his lips off of Shake’s titty, but Frylock’s words were interrupted by his own groan due to a deliberate tensing of Shake’s vagina in response.
“Jesus Christ, don’t stop!” Shake whined petulantly, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his head back. “C’mon— move and get back to fuckin’ me!”
And, somehow, Shake was always the best at dirty talk when he didn’t even mean to be. Frylock let out a strained swear, his hands jittery from his alit nerves as he gripped Shake’s asscheeks. “Goddammit, you little fuckin’—” He couldn’t even complete his sentence before he had returned to pulling out and thrusting inwards, picking up the pace as he plunged into Shake’s taut hole.
His hips moved into a fast, steady rhythm, and Frylock almost lost track of it all, lost in his amazement at Shake’s expressions. His eyes captured every minute twitch of Shake’s face as Frylock fucked into him over and over again—every thrust hurried yet precise—and even as his vision felt dizzied from his arousal, the strongest emotion present as he stared down at his friend being, surprisingly, one of utmost fondness. He lost all sense of time, of where he was, of who he was. Everything was lost in favor of the man beneath him.
“Oh god— oh god— F- Frylock, I’m gonna—”
And Shake’s words, cut off by his own ragged gasp, brought Frylock back to the present as he felt an intense shudder run through Shake’s body, all of the man’s muscles tensing and twitching. He let out a deep, guttural moan as he came, his hands desperately scrambling for purchase of Frylock, and Frylock held Shake through it, pressing the man’s writhing body to his chest.
Shake sobbed with overstimulation, and Frylock held him tight as his thrusts grew erratic, his own orgasm steadily mounting. “Shake, I’m close—I—” Frylock huffed, squeezing his eyes shut, and he wasn’t even able to finish his thought as a sudden release overtook him. The familiar overwhelming rush of heat flowed through him, setting his nerves ablaze with pleasure. It surged through him, reducing him to a shell of himself as his vision whited out. He trembled in Shake’s arms, practically collapsed on top of the man below him, and he could feel Shake playing with his hair when his senses had finally started to return to him.
“Fuck,” he said once he’d regained his breath, his lips pressed to Shake’s shoulder. It took a while for his heartbeat to return to a semi-normal pace and for the sound of his blood rushing through his ears to dissipate. He could hear himself exhale loudly as he turned his head to nuzzle himself further into the crook of Shake’s neck, inhaling the scent of the man still pressed against him. He smelled vaguely salty from the sweat, and there was still a metallic smell in the air, but Shake also managed to smell slightly sweet—like pistachio.
He could hardly bring himself to breathe, much less move—especially not when Shake’s fingers were tracing soothing circles into his scalp in a rare display of care—but he was able to shakily conjure up the strength needed to gently pull out of Shake (taking great pleasure in the breathy gasp the man let out at the abrupt movement inside of his still-sensitive cunt) and move himself to lay beside Shake. Before he could get settled, though, he pulled off his condom by the base of his penis and quickly tied it off, throwing it to the side.
His muscles felt like putty as he laid there, but he still reached out an arm to slip it around Shake’s waist, pulling the man close to him. Shake moved his head to lay against Frylock’s pec, and Frylock pressed a kiss to the crown of the man’s head.
“How’re you feelin’?” Frylock asked, peering down at the man. “Your cramps gone?”
“Mhm,” Shake hummed before letting out a long sigh. Frylock peered down at Shake from where his head was resting on his chest and was able to see that he looked exhausted. However, at the same time, there was a satisfied gleam in his eyes that told Frylock that his friend was basking in his afterglow. “‘M feelin’ pretty good—even if it does feel like you fucked me so hard it rearranged my guts.”
Frylock let out a light huff of laughter, and he brushed a tuft of hair out from where it had fallen into Shake’s eyes, running his fingers through his hair. He let his other hand gently stroke the slope of Shake’s waist, his thumb rubbing at the bone of his hip. “Sorry if I got carried away,” he said, his voice low and fond as he tucked a lock of hair behind Shake’s ear. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Nah. I might have a pussy, but I can take dick like a man.”
That managed to surprise a sharp laugh out of Frylock, and he used the arm he had wrapped around Shake to pull the man even closer to him. “Y’know, I won’t even argue with that.”
“Good, ‘cause you’d be arguing against straight facts,” Shake said, and Frylock shook his head to himself, frustratingly endeared by the man.
For a moment, neither of them said anything, and Frylock simply took the time to bask in the comfort of having Shake in his arms, the feeling of bare skin on skin, and feeling Shake’s heartbeat and breathing brush against his chest. However, as Shake shifted in his hold, Frylock was reminded of the fact that their tangled bodies were sticking together from a combination of sweat, blood, and other fluids that Frylock did not want to get on his bedspread.
“Y’know, we probably need to get cleaned up,” he murmured, and when Shake turned to look up at him, he continued. “You think you’re good to walk?”
Shake snorted and rolled his eyes. “Pfft—c’mon, I’m fine,” the man replied, and Frylock watched as Shake moved to reposition himself off of Frylock. However, his action was cut off by his own grunt of pain as he failingly tried to adjust himself. “Christ, it hurts to move.”
Frylock suppressed an amused laugh, and he stretched out a hand to grab Shake by the shoulder, gently guiding him to sit back down. “Yep, that’s a no.”
“Shut up,” Shake huffed, a blush now evident on his face as he settled back down on the bed. “You did this to me, in case you don’t remember.”
“Oh, no, trust me, I remember,” Frylock assured him, his voice tinged with humor as he watched Shake cross his arms over his tits. Without thinking, Frylock reached out and ghosted his fingers across the expanse of Shake’s scarred neck, and he felt like smiling at how he made the man shiver at the touch of his fingertips. “And I also remember how much of a mess you were only a few minutes ago, crying about how much you wanted me, too.”
Shake said nothing, then, his green eyes wide and trained on him, and his mouth was set into a straight line. However, the rapidly reddening color of the pale man’s cheeks displayed all that Shake felt yet did not express. Frylock stared for a while, his hand placed on the back of Shake’s neck, before giving Shake a small smile, opting to take mercy on Shake and not mention it.
Frylock scooted away from Shake, then, and he moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “You stay here. I’ll go get us something to clean ourselves up with.”
And with that, Frylock stood up from the bed and crept down to the floor, looking for his boxers. Quickly, he slid them on before he turned towards the door, setting one foot out when—
“Don’t be long,” Shake said, his voice oddly quiet, and Frylock turned around to face him.
At that moment, the sight of Shake, naked and slumped against a pillow, struck something within him that made him nearly stop in his tracks. Shake’s hair was mussed, his face was flushed, his eyes were weary and dark with something akin to exhaustion, and a light sheen of sweat was still covering his body. His face was stony, yet somehow more expressive than Frylock had ever seen. The sight of such a vulnerable side of Shake, accompanied by the knowledge that it was for Frylock’s eyes only, was a precious one to behold.
“I won’t be,” Frylock said, his voice gentler than even he had expected to come out of him. He leaned down, then, and his lips brushed Shake’s forehead in a kiss, a chaste goodbye before Frylock turned on his heel and quietly padded out of his bedroom, softly closing the door behind him.
The house was silent as he walked through it—so silent that it made Frylock realize that Meatwad had potentially heard a less-than-ideal amount of the noise that he and Shake had been making, and he couldn’t help but worry about the young boy. However, Frylock merely had to check the recliner to find Meatwad asleep and sitting in front of the Tv. It had grown to be late—2:39 A.M., a quick glance at the stove top clock confirmed—so it made sense that Meatwad had nodded off in front of the Tv some time ago… hopefully sooner rather than later.
Smiling down at the kid, Frylock left him to his devices to sleep peacefully—not before covering him up with a nearby throw blanket, though.
As he turned back to head into the house’s small, hallway bathroom, he took care to not make too much noise as he opened and closed the bathroom door. Turning the light on, Frylock first moved to wash his hands, his face, and his beard, and he followed it all up with brushing his teeth, his personal hygiene not going unchecked. Once he had finished, though, he began to gather their toiletries, rifling through the cabinets. Grabbing a washcloth from the cupboard Shake had crookedly hung on their wall years ago, he turned to wet it in the sink, wringing out the excess water from the towel before he left to re-enter his room.
Quietly, Frylock pushed open his door, and the sight of Shake, still naked, was the first thing to catch his eye upon walking in. However, the man had moved to lay out on his back as he stared up at the ceiling, hugging a pillow to his chest to cover his breasts.
And despite how quiet Frylock had tried to be as he’d opened his door, he still managed to attract Shake’s attention over to him. The man on the bed’s eyes shifted from their trained position on the ceiling to look over at Frylock as he walked through the doorway of his room, his vacant facial expression remaining unchanged even as he did so.
“I’m back,” Frylock said—even though it was obvious that he had returned—and he held up the washcloth he’d retrieved as well. “And I brought this.”
He approached the bed and then moved to sit down on the side of it next to Shake. Without so much as a word, he reached down and began to tenderly wipe up the mess they’d left in between Shake’s legs, the sudden cold sensation of the wet cloth against his body causing Shake to release a shiver at the touch, his fingers clenching into the fabric of the pillow he held against his chest.
As he gently moved the cloth along the space between Shake’s legs, his other hand appeared to grow a mind of its own as it moved to caress the visibly tensed muscles of Shake’s thigh. “You doing okay?” He asked, his gaze still trained on cleaning Shake’s lower half.
It took a second for Shake to reply, but his voice still had the thin quality from earlier to it. “Yeah. Cramps came back, is all.”
Frylock frowned even as he nodded, and he brought the damp, now-stained cloth up from between Shake’s legs and quickly tossed the washcloth into his laundry hamper before giving Shake’s leg a quick, comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Frylock said, wincing sympathetically, before he moved to stand and pick up Shake’s shirt and boxers from his bedroom floor, turning back towards the man with his hand holding Shake’s clothes extended towards him.
“Thanks,” Shake said, and he moved to shakily sit up with the assistance of his elbows as he slid into his boxers, and Frylock did not miss his grimaces of apparent pain every time he had to shift himself to pull them up. He moved onto changing into his shirt after that, something he easily slipped into this time, before he let himself collapse against Frylock’s pillows.
Having just seen all that he had, Frylock felt concerned for the pain Shake must’ve felt yet again, regardless of Shake’s reassurances. He could only guess that, when his cramps had returned, they had returned with a vengeance.
“Y’know…” Frylock began, slowly moving to sit beside Shake on the bed, “You’re free to sleep in my bed if you’d like.”
The suggestion apparently caught Shake off guard, and his friend seemed genuinely surprised at his words as he stared at Frylock with a look of bewilderment. “I—really?”
“Only if you want to, man. But if you’d rather sleep out in the living room, I—”
“Why?” Shake suddenly cut in, and Frylock furrowed his brow.
“Uh… what do you mean? ‘Why’ what, Shake?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
For a moment, Frylock was left speechless by Shake’s question, confused by the man’s words. He took a moment to properly analyze Shake’s expression, peering deep into his gaze. He observed how he appeared weary, with the edges of his eyes lined and shadowed with a dark exhaustion, and his jaw locked in a defensive manner even as his teeth gnawed at his lower lip. He also saw how Shake’s expression held a strange quality to it that he could not identify—something akin to nervousness.
“What do you mean?” Frylock asked, watching Shake’s expression carefully.
Shake let out a huff, and he let his head hang, staring down at his lap. “I dunno. Actin’ all mushy ‘n shit… What gives? I mean, you don’t even like me. So why are you doing all of this?”
“Well… because I love you.”
And suddenly, at his words, Shake’s head jerked up to meet Frylock’s gaze. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, Frylock’s stare unwavering.
The two sat in total silence—the only sound being that of the rain hammering against the house. Frylock did not know quite how to read the look on Shake’s face, even as it remained frozen in a look of complete shock—his jaw slack, his eyes as wide as saucers, and his brow furrowed in a mixture of surprise and confusion. “What?” Shake asked, his voice small as it shook.
“I said I love you, stupid,” Frylock repeated, and he reached his hand out to hold Shake’s, giving the man’s hand a squeeze.
“Oh,” was all that Shake could seemingly manage to say, but Frylock made no effort to push him.
As a moment of silence passed between them yet again, Frylock cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Y’know, my offer’s still up to sleep in here tonight,” Frylock said, his voice nonchalant. When Shake’s eyes still held a somewhat distant look in them, though, Frylock began to rub his thumb across his friend’s knuckles, and Shake appeared to break free from his trance.
The man’s eyes darted down to look at their interlocked hands for a second before he nodded, looked back up at Frylock, and spoke. “Okay. Yeah. I… wouldn’t mind stayin’ in here.”
With a small smile, Frylock said, “Good, because Meatwad’s currently asleep in the recliner, anyway,” and he gave Shake’s hand one more squeeze before withdrawing his touch. He moved across the room to turn off the overhead light, the only light source being his bedside table lamp after he flicked the switch.
It was dark, save for the dim, warm light that gently glowed from the table lamp. The rain still drummed against the windows, and the low hum of the air conditioner turning on filled up the background noise. Frylock slipped into bed, moving to lay beside Shake under the covers. He situated himself into a comfortable position, feeling Shake’s eyes on him nearly the entire time. He chose to refrain from reaching out to Shake, waiting to see if his friend would come to him first, and he was not disappointed.
As soon as Frylock had settled himself, he could feel Shake shift in the bed next to him, turning to face him. The dim lighting illuminated his eyes, his irises reflecting the amber glow emitting from the lamp as he slowly scooted himself towards Frylock as if trying to keep Frylock from noticing. Frylock, slightly amused by the man’s poorly disguised eagerness, slipped an arm around him, bringing his hand to rest against Shake’s back.
Shake’s body was warm against his own as he wrapped his arm around the man. He felt Shake melt into him, the man pressing closer to him and burying his face into the crook of his neck. Frylock’s fingers moved idly, running down his spine as he felt Shake shiver from the touch.
“Y’know,” Shake began, his nasally voice interrupting the silence, “my cramps aren’t hurting as bad now, for some reason.”
“Oh yeah?” Frylock replied, still absentmindedly tracing shapes into Shake’s back. “Would you wanna know the reasons why?”
Shake huffed a laugh, and his breath sent a gust of warm air against the skin of Frylock’s neck. “What, as in more of your science bullcrap?”
“It’s not bullcrap,” Frylock frowned, and Shake let out a snicker.
“Yeah, yeah,” Shake said, and he moved his head from the crevice of Frylock’s neck to properly face him. There was a smirk tugging at his lips as he observed Frylock’s face and the frown he wore, and the smug look on his roommate’s face made Frylock roll his eyes. “‘Splain away, Einstein.”
“Well…” Frylock started, and he shifted his torso so that he could look at Shake more easily, his fingers not stopping with their movement against his back. “For one, it could be the heat from my body. Heat relaxes muscles and increases blood flow, lessening your cramps.”
“Right, right,” Shake nodded along, acting as though he’d known the information the entire time. “And what else, oh wise one?”
“And… cuddling, actually,” Frylock said, and as Shake moved to make a series of gagging noises, pantomiming sticking a finger down his throat, and Frylock let out a frustrated huff. “Oh, hush. I can stop, if you want—”
“Wait, no, I was just fucking around,” Shake said, pouting as he grabbed for Frylock, holding his hand with both of his hands clasped around it. “C’mon, keep yappin’. I wanna hear your nerd shit.”
Frylock, unable to suppress his smile, continued. “As I was saying, cuddling releases a hormone called oxytocin.”
“What the hell does that do?”
“Well, a lot of things, but it can help with reducing pain and making you feel more relaxed.”
“Mm… anything else?” Shake asked, looking up at him through his half-lidded eyes. “I could use the background noise to help me fall asleep. It’s kinda like fallin’ asleep to the Tv, y’know? And… I-guess-I-kinda-like-the-sound-of-your-voice.”
Shake’s words ran deliberately close together as he said that last part, his eyes darting away in clear embarrassment, but Frylock’s smile only grew as he felt a warm feeling bubble up in his abdomen at the rare compliment from Shake. “Well, I guess I could get into gate control theory, but that’s a little bit harder to explain.”
“Nah, ‘s fine. Talk about that one,” Shake said, and Frylock could already hear the tiredness in his friend’s voice.
“Alright,” Frylock began, one of his hands moving to rub more shapes into Shake’s back as the man snaked an arm around Frylock’s waist. “Essentially, gate control theory works on the basis of processing sensory information…”
And so, as Frylock went on to explain the various proposed biological processes that gate control theory entailed—Shake asking a few drowsy questions along the way—he was able to watch in real-time the slow but steady decline of Shake’s consciousness, saw the way his eyes drooped shut every few seconds before they would blink back open and stare up at Frylock.
Eventually, though, Shake’s head slumped forward to lay against Frylock’s chest, and he could feel as Shake’s breathing slowly evened out. Chuckling to himself, Frylock stopped his lecturing there, realizing it had fallen upon deaf ears, and he repositioned himself to hold Shake closer to his body.
He had just begun to think that Shake had fallen asleep when he suddenly heard an inhale, an inhale that sounded much louder than the average unconscious inhalation.
“Hey… Frylock?” Shake whispered, his voice sounding slightly hoarse with fatigue.
“Yeah?” Frylock asked, craning his head downwards to look at Shake, even though the man did not move in his arms. “Is everything alright?”
For a moment, Shake did not answer, and his face remained obscured and buried in Frylock’s chest. “Yeah. ‘M fine. I just—” He gave a shaky exhale, then, cutting himself off, and when he spoke again his voice was trembling. “There’s… somethin’ I wanted to say.”
Frylock’s brow furrowed at the sound of his friend’s wavering voice, and his arms instinctively grabbed hold of him a little tighter. “What is it?”
There was a stillness that hung in the air for a brief moment, the only sound being that of the rain falling against the house—that and the sound of their breathing and beating hearts. Frylock could feel as his own heart rate quickened, and he was unsure of the cause of the increased tempo.
“I love you too,” came the quiet admission, murmured so abruptly yet gently against Frylock’s collarbone that he almost missed it.
The sudden declaration nearly caused Frylock’s mind to screech to a halt, and he could feel his breath catch in his throat. For several moments, Frylock was left speechless as his mind, brilliant though it was, tried to comprehend the fact that he had just heard the words “I love you” fall from Shake’s lips, spoken with such a rare level of sincerity.
After the initial shock faded, Frylock tightened his arm around Shake, pulling him even closer against him. He turned his head towards his friend, moving to bury his face into Shake’s hair. The familiar scent of something musky yet distinctly Shake filled his nose, and he smiled against the top of his head.
“Took you long enough to say it back,” Frylock finally said, his lips moving against the crown of Shake’s head as he spoke, and he was sure that Shake could feel the outline of his smile as it pressed against his scalp.
He heard a scoffing sound from Shake before he felt the man shift in his hold, squirming upwards in the bed so that his face was level with Frylock’s, his expression furrowed. “I thought you said patience was a virtue, asshole.”
“It is,” Frylock agreed, and as Shake grumbled at his response, Frylock’s hand trailed up Shake’s back to card his fingers through the tousled curls at the nape of Shake’s neck, the hair somehow managing to feel both soft and coarse simultaneously. And any remaining fight in Shake felt as though it was drained out of him, his lover’s body losing all of his tension as time stretched on.
But before Shake could fall asleep, Frylock leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to Shake’s lips, admiring the way Shake’s eyes flitted open in surprise.
“Goodnight, Shake,” Frylock said, and the warmth inside of him returned when Shake drew close yet again, clinging to him sleepily.
“G’night,” he managed to reply, and Frylock watched as his eyelids fell shut for the last time that night, Shake’s breaths eventually coming in steady, slow sighs that turned to light snores as sleep slowly claimed him.
Frylock could feel the drowsiness that had taken its own hold over Frylock as well, but his mind was awake as ever as it replayed all that had happened that night.
He hadn’t been expecting anything less than a calm night in as he worked on inputting data, and he’d been frustrated to have that be interrupted, but now he couldn’t have been happier about it. Not only had the sex been great, but it had finally led to a development in the confusing, sparsely acknowledged partnership between him and Shake. It brought security to Frylock’s mind, knowing that this really was something more to their odd relationship.
But he knew what Shake was like. More likely than not, Shake would wake up beside him in the morning and act aloof to the events of the night previous. He would continue acting like his brash, asshole self, but as Frylock stared into Shake’s peacefully sleeping face, he chose to ignore that. Instead, he focused on the way that Shake’s face softened into something so vulnerable and sweet as he lay there—how his mouth was slightly parted to show off his teeth, how his eyes lightly fluttered as his brain moved into REM, and how he softly mumbled unintelligible words in his sleep.
Insolent though Shake was, Frylock also knew that he would be met with a thoughtfully made breakfast in the morning, the Tv ‘coincidentally’ turned onto Frylock’s favorite channel. He knew that Shake would, on a whim, decide to join him in the kitchen as he cleaned up afterward, unhelpfully rinsing off their plates and utensils until Frylock would eventually place him on dish-drying duty. He knew that Shake would intentionally seek to make him laugh all throughout the day, even if it meant making an ass out of himself, because those were all some of the various ways that he showed his love.
There were a million tiny ways that Shake’s care shone through, no matter how often he tried to hide his affection under a show of scathing remarks or sarcastic comments. It was present in the way that Shake would color with Meatwad on the floor of their living room, regardless of his protests that he was only doing it to show Meatwad how real art was made. And it was present in the way that Shake asked for Frylock to ramble on about topics that he knew Frylock enjoyed, even if it was under the guise of lulling him to sleep.
As he stared down at the sleeping man in his arms, he felt an overwhelming surge of fondness as he gently brushed away his hair from his face. All that could be heard was the rhythmic pitter-patter of the falling rain and Shake’s snores. Listening to the euphony of sounds mixed with the warmth exuding from Shake’s body was what slowly managed to ease Frylock into sleep.
And even when Shake soon turned over within Frylock’s hold, causing him to hog the majority of the covers, Frylock found that he didn’t mind. The man was on his period, after all.