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8:09 P.M., Griefer's Bedroom
It's been a little over a week since the incident behind the gas station where Finn McCool thinks half of his ego had crumbled to nothing but ashes of his love for the other man. Finn and Griefer had decided to start making plans to hang out more, much to Finn's enjoyment. He had even stopped gathering his gang to go torment the local gas station workers for snacks. Usually they went every single day, but something changed in him. Something that made his heart pound with the thrill of adoration—not the thrill of malevolence and the swing of his bat.
The marking that Griefer had left on Finn's neck, the subtle but presentable reminder that Griefer was also infatuated with him, had decreased tremendously—now only the size of a pea and a lighter shade of purple, thank Robloxia. At first Finn had simply covered the hickey up with a bandage, like someone had possibly punched him in the neck really hard. He had considered leaving it unbandaged, free for the world to see that he had won, but what would his parents say? His gang? It was too much peer pressure even for a notorious snack-stealer and shin-kicker like him.
But now here he was. The lights were dimmed, but still rotating and flashing vivid colors of red, green, blue. Nightstands were covered in snack wrappers and clothing price tags, device chargers with wires visible dangling from the tabletops. The walls were painted with posters of different bands and splatters of paint, potentially not just for the sake of art but for the sake of decoration as well, a crowbar hooked on the wall above the doorframe like it was the king's crown of the room. A trash can was filled to the brim with crushed Bloxy Cola and Witches' Brew cans, spilling over and littering the crooked rug below. The bedspread was askew, hanging halfway off the bed as two men take it over in an entanglement of each other's limbs. The scent of flowers blooming from Griefer's body blankets the lust in the room.
Finn had his legs wrapped around Griefer's thighs like a a koala bear hugging a tree for dear life. His arms were secure around the other's neck, nails digging into the dark skin of his acne and scar-littered toned shoulders. His body was flush against the black tank-top Griefer donned, pressing up to it, feeling his sheer, blissful warmth right through the tank. His eyes were shut closed as his tongue did a slow dance with Griefer's—in which Griefer was pinning Finn down to his messy mattress akin to a sword's blade buried in a rock. Finn's own shirt was pulled up a little, riding up his stomach, showing off his bare skin and slight muscular frame. His backwards cap and flashy sunglasses had been flung off somewhere, revealing thick cords of golden hair and dark brown eyes sparkling with love that frame his devoted expression, cheeks painted with rosy hues of pure blush.
Finn feels absence when Griefer pulls away from their little make-out session, saliva dripping between their once-connected lips. It snaps, spilling all over Finn's mouth, flushed with the tense barrage of kisses and taste of soda. God, this was so impossibly hot—figuratively and literally—Finn had never fathomed how much elation he could feel at a certain moment in time.
"3NJ0Y1NG 1T, F1NNST3R?" Griefer asks smugly, so smug Finn has to reconsider his normally arrogant countenance. He's so lost in this sea of a seventh heaven that he can't even imagine himself being the man he usually is.
"A-Ah... fuck you, Brad..." Finn tries to push away his endearment, but it's crashing down in tsunami-sized waves that he can't swim out of. "Why did I-I even agree to hanging out with you in the first place?!"
"B3C4US3, Y0U L0V3 M3," Griefer giggles, drawing a stripe up Finn's neck with his hand and tickling behind his ear, grazing the silver piercing on the ear. "TH4T PR3C10US 1NFL4T3D 3G0 0F Y0URS W0N'T D0 Y0U JUST1C3." The lights around Finn and Griefer flash red, green, blue—violently, like a spotlight to show off their devotion for each other.
Finn can't help but be lost for words. Griefer had devoured all of his creative insults in one delectable make-out session. "Okay, but... dude, this is high-key hot. Like your dad isn't home and we're just sloppily making out like we're about to go down on each other or something..." He says it so blatantly it's almost like he needs to go further in order to keep up. He wants Griefer to commit amorous actions to him—But Finn just isn't sure if he'll accept the fact that he hides something that most people like him do not possess.
Griefer raises an eyebrow, his green eyes glimmering with entice. "...D0 Y0U W4NN4 G0 TH4T R0UT3?"
"I mean, I don't give a fuck, man, we don't have to if you don't wanna."
"F1NN," Griefer says, a little earnest as he whispers softly to the other. "D0 Y0U W4NT T0 G0 FURTH3R 0R N0T? 'C4US3 1'M D0WN 1F Y0U 4R3."
Silence. Finn, surprisingly, is astonished by Griefer's answer. He had expected a much more vague answer, but he had gotten one that was straightforward—trusting, like he was sealing a promise with him. It made his heart thump loudly in his chest, practically banging in his ribcage to set his deep affection free and aflight.
"Yes," Finn nods his head eagerly. He had never wanted to do this so bad in his entire life—ego the equivalent of a flat tire at this point. "Please, bro."
Griefer still looks tentative even after Finn had keenly agreed to start. "TH1S Y0UR F1RST T1M3? 1T 1S F0R M3."
"Yeah, stop asking questions and let's fuck already." Finn complains, trying his best to ignore the sudden heat pooling in his stomach from the rising arousal between them both. He had never had sex before, never gotten to the stage with any of the girls he'd dated in the past. But this... was so sudden. He loved it.
Griefer nods, taking that as the sign to start. He carefully rises off of McCool, eyeing every inch of his body and clothes as he does. He admires the slight muscle underneath the violet tank-top he wears, the way it's riding up his stomach to show himself off. His pants are wrinkled and adorned with multiple tears neatly secured by a belt sparkling with studs that holds them up. Griefer finds the tab of Finn's pants right underneath the buckle of his belt, and he shudders at the thought of what he's going to find underneath.
Quickly, Griefer undos the buckle of the other's belt, opening it with a gentle clack that resonates in the hot air within. He slowly pulls Finn's belt out of the loops, the river of stud gems on it sparkling as it is discarded to the floor in a glimmering heap. His fingers meet the tab, resting ever so enticingly on the zipper, and he pulls the tab downward, the sound of it being pulled only making Finn's mind race with anticipation. He's trying his hardest not to slant his body upwards in response to the leisure that only heightens his impatience.
Once the tab is at the base of the zipper, Griefer links his fingers in the loops of Finn's pants and pulls down, taking his time as his gaze explores every inch of Finn's lower torso. The way his hips are curved scantily, shaped so perfectly he's like a work of art. Hair litters his lower stomach, trailing down below another piece of fabric that blocks a treasure. Finn's pants are off in a matter of seconds (thankfully Griefer is also eager to get this obscene matter over with), and now Griefer is staring at a pair of thin boxers, patterned a violet plaid with the maker's logo printed across the white elastic band. He doesn't even consider the fact that there is no bulge sticking out of the fabric, instead a mere puddle where the boxers touch his crotch, and Finn holds back a guilty sound. The scent of flowers swirling around Griefer's vines and plant-growing body aren't helping with the predicament that he's in.
"0H, SH1T." Griefer's eyes are a bit wider, staring between Finn's legs like he had just found a pile of gold. Nevertheless, he's smiling like a maniac and says it like it's a common occurance. "Y0U'R3 4LS0... L1K3 TH4T?"
"Uh, yeah," Suddenly the knot-like tension around Finn loosens a little. "I got surgery on my top half." Yet a thought eats away at McCool's mind as the other continues to undress him—Griefer had said 'you're also like that.' What the hell did that mean?
Soon Finn's boxers and pants were off, probably next to his belt on the dirty floor—swimming with the crumpled soda cans. Griefer is staring at... something he had definitely not expected coming from a cocky and self-indulgent person like Finn himself: a rosy hole between his thighs, glistening in the multicolor light of the room as curly golden hair guards it like a gateway. Finn's wet cunt twitches around nothing but the warmth of the air around both of them—hot, exposed, and free from confinement.
"J33Z, Y0U'R3 N33DY." Griefer points out, his gaze lingering for so long Finn can feel his eyes on him.
Finn cranes his head up to watch what Griefer is doing, adjusting his body as he did so, spreading his legs a bit wider and sitting up to allow him more access. Playfully, he says, "Well no duh, you're literally about to—A-Ah—!"
He can't finish his smart sentence, because Griefer buries his head in between his legs without another thought and presses a tender, sweet kiss to Finn's cunt. Finn immediately tenses up at the pressure, feeling the other's lips on the ones between his hips. It's almost like a sting—sudden and rapid, but doesn't hurt. The only pain that courses through his body is pleasure, speaking from the way his hips rock involuntarily upwards into Griefer's face. His expression scrunches up, staring down at Griefer, whose head is still tucked in between Finn's legs and working away at him. "O-Ohh... fuck— Brad—..."
Like a puppy to it's owner, Griefer picks his head up. There's a seductive glint in his eye that makes Finn feel wrong for complaining, watching as Griefer's tongue slowly runs across the seam of his own lips, potentially tasting what lied below. "Y0U G00D?"
"Y-Yes, please continue, dude." He's basically begging Griefer to keep doing what he was doing. The other nods, going back to working on Finn's cunt. He keeps pressing kisses and melodious hums to the surface, slow and purposeful, making sure Finn is loving every second. And Finn is definitely doing just that—savoring every kiss and touch that Griefer is blessing him with right now in the comfort of this bedroom.
After a minute or so—McCool can't keep track of how long with the feeling of Griefer relentlessly indulging him with barrages of kisses flush to his folds—the other's tongue comes out and draws a prolonged, deliberate stripe up Finn's wet pussy, taking his time to tease it from the bottom to the top, licking the glittering layer clean. Finn arches his back, like a doll controlled by strings, covering his mouth with one hand to not let any precious mewls slip away.
Griefer laps at Finn again and again, doing the same motion over and over. Then, without warning, he delves his tongue through the opening of his aroused, sopping clit and hums loudly, sending a deep shockwave of pleasure throughout his entire body. "F-Fuck, keep doing that, man," He cries out, moaning unintentionally loud, the sound echoing off the posters and walls of the room. Finn's eyes are blown wide, round with pure amusement at the feeling of Griefer's tongue inside of him—not his mouth this time. He bites his lip at the notion.
Carefully but surely, Griefer's tongue makes it way deep inside of Finn, worming around and exploring his inner walls. Finn can't take his eyes off of what he's looking at. Griefer's hair is spilling over his face, blocking most of the view, but he can see how focused he is—eating his vagina out like there isn't a tomorrow. He can practically feel Griefer in him—his tongue prodding around his clit, calculating each and every precise movement he's doing just to douse Finn in pure fulfillment. With want, need, everything he desires.
He can't get enough. Finn is becoming insatiable to Griefer at this point.
Then, his approaching climax appears, a lewd, coiling sensation building in his gut. Finn spreads his legs as wide as he possibly can while he warns Griefer of his finish. "B-Brad— I'm so close..." He doesn't want to come, not even a bit, he doesn't want it to be over. But his absolutely divine orgasm crashes over him like a wave sooner than he thinks.
"F-FUCK—!! Brad—!"
Finn moans, and when one says he moans he moans —wanton and desperate. So much for being a notorious gas station harrasser when his legs are flailing and trembling as Griefer devours his pussy harshly, swallowing down his climax as it is ridden out. Finn's eyelashes are dewy with tears, threatening to fall down his face, head thrown back. Finn feels Griefer pull his tongue out with a lewd pop and Finn violently squirts all over his face, the pearly substance coating Griefer's mouth in a sweet reminder of his release.
Finn's head comes back down, lowering himself, taking deep breaths to recollect himself after that. His sopping wet cunt drips with his juices and the other's saliva, twitching in the hot air of the room. "Dude..." Finn mumbles, much unlike his usual cocky demeanor thick with thrill-seeking and torment. "I-I—"
"1'M N0T D0N3 W1TH Y0U," Griefer whispers, low and tentative, letting those words sink into Finn's mind as if to ask if they could keep at it. "1 G0T 4N0TH3R TR1CK UP MY SL33V3."
And for a second, Finn thinks, 'He's gonna shove his dick in me,' But then remembers what he had said earlier. Did that mean that Griefer was also like this? He watches attentively as Griefer gets up and pulls down his own pants, the black shredded jeans cuffing around his ankles. His boxers come along with them, peeling the fabric off to reveal... also a cunt. Flushed and wet, but not tongue-abused like Finn's swelling one.
"Ohmygod," Finn gasps quietly, eyes kindled with surprise at the sight of it. "Bro..."
"HM? L1K3 WH4T Y0U S33?"
"Y-You're so fucking hot—" Finn's voice is hazy with slight aftershock. Griefer scoffs playfully.
"KN0W TH4T, C0M1NG FR0M Y0U." And just like that, Griefer manuevers himself on top of Finn, saddling one leg over him and the other under him. Finn braces for impact, and when he does, he lets out a satisfied mumble mixed with a sloppy groan. His cunt meets Griefer's, wet to more wet, and the other slides his hips upwards in an angle so perfect it's unfathomable.
"Ugh—" Finn chokes out a taut cry as his hips ram into Griefer's clit, beginning to slide up and down to match the tantalizing rhythm that they're both making. "Ooh— that feels... so good..."
They both grind their cunts against each other for a while, obscene sounds spilling from their mouths in a harmony. The bed scantily creaks underneath the weight of their love—very heavy and thick, completing the innuendo of a song of sex. The scent of flowers continues to flourish around them, Griefer's vines and petals on his body ruffling favorably from the pleasure dancing across his nervous system.
"D-Don't fuckin' stop," Finn pleads coyly, enchantingly rolling his hips up and down to grind his cunt roughly against the one he love's. "Keep going—"
"Y0U HUMP L1K3 4 R4BB1T 1N... FUCK1N' H34T, F-F1NN— MMFH..." Griefer sputters, and Finn is too drunk on love to decipher whether that's a compliment or an insult. Either way it sounded hot coming from him, only fueling his fire even more.
It's almost too soon when Finn has to come again, his second orgasm of the night. He finishes, moaning Griefer's name like he's obligated to—worshipping him, warm juices dribbling out of his clit and mixing with Griefer's. Griefer follows suit a few moments later, raising his hips to come a bit on the top of Finn's lower torso.
With a few shaky pants while unraveling his entangled limbs, Griefer climbs on top of Finn and kisses him on lips—slow and tender after all that had just happened. Finn can feel every scratch and every indent across the other's mouth, melting into the kiss like he's apart of it.
"I-I'm going to kill you with my bat if you tell ANYBODY, okay?" Finn narrows his eyebrows. After all, he is a leader, and must keep this affair secret from the others, otherwise they're going to poke fun at him for however long about how he literally had sex with a man who has plants growing on his body.
Griefer doesn't even nod. He knows he's going to keep this a secret. They both know that this is just their own little deal, gone way too far past, but enjoyed.
"Okay, let me get up, I need to put my glasses and hat back on..."
"0H, C0M3 0N!"
(Who dares me to unanonymous myself!!)
ok i did. Anyway!
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