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“You know,” Horangi starts, apropos of nothing, pointing an accusing finger König’s way. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that you bagged Sanderson before I could tap that.”
From his place on the other couch where he’s sat, leaned against the man in question, Roach snorts.
“Truly unfair,” Horangi bemoans again, sagging further into the cushions of his very own sofa with a tragic sigh. It’s the couch from apartment 312, the old one that was always way too small for both König and Roach, but now comfortably fits the stretched-out figure of their friend, the man no longer having to sit on the floor, squashed into a beanbag. The other couch, the newer, larger, pull-out sofa that still smells of furniture warehouse is shared between König and him. They’d bought it specifically so Horangi could have an actual mattress to sleep on whenever he came to crash at their place, but usually the man didn’t even bother pulling it out, passing out on the cushioning as it is, fully clothed.
Regardless of Horangi using their new, expensive furniture as intended or not, a larger living room and an extra couch is nice to have in general. König and him could comfortably house Roze, Cali and Rangi now without the place getting too crowded. Could even have all three of them stay overnight in the living room if they didn’t feel like going home. Hell, they’d had a full-on New Year’s party last month, Cali bringing four more friends along, and while yes, the apartment had been pretty full, between kitchen, living room and balcony there’d still been enough space for everyone.
Despite the price, Roach will say that the extra square meters are worth it. Plus, König loves it as well. Especially their kitchen, roomy and well-lit, well-ventilated too, with loads of counter space and an island that fit three barstools for additional seating. The induction stovetop was just the cherry on top.
Roach’s favorite part though, is the fact that the building allows pets. If that hadn’t been the case, he would have never gotten the chance to meet the second love of his life – right after König, of course. A pale, cream-colored cat lovingly named Princess because, you know. König, king. A princess being a king’s daughter and all that.
…Roach never claimed to be difficult to amuse.
Neither he nor his fiancé call her Princess these days anyway. To Roach she’s his ‘beautiful baby girl’ and to König she’s Sisi. When Roach first heard the other call her that, he’d looked at him a little strangely until the man elaborated that he didn’t mean a sissy, but Sisi, as in the nickname of the famous Austrian Empress Elisabeth, since she was behaving like spoiled royalty from time to time. It fit either way, because as much as Roach wanted to be affronted on his perfect baby’s behalf for being called a sissy, she really could be one at times.
Not that it really mattered what you ended up calling her. She listened to none of the above options.
Case in point for Sisi being a little sissy with far too much character and opinions per square inch of fluff, she chooses that moment to get up off his lap with a disgruntled murr, stalking over to König instead because Roach had stopped administering the required pets in order to level his most unimpressed look at Horangi.
“That usually how it works? You fuck all of König’s partners?” Roach asks dryly, privately amused that Rangi is bringing this up again. Even several months after getting happily engaged to König, the man hadn’t stopped his playful flirting with Roach. Doubled down on it, if anything. Not that anyone seriously minded. If at any point either him or König gave any indication as to being uncomfortable with it, no doubt Horangi would have stopped his dramatics a long time ago.
“Kinda,” the man chuckles, head bent backwards over the armrest. In the background on the TV some game show or another has been playing at half volume for the past two hours or so. Long enough for it to get fully dark out, long enough for the pizzas on the coffee table to go cold. It’s weekend though, so Roach doesn’t really feel like packing up quite yet, nor heading to bed.
“It’s just always been the other way around,” Horangi goes on. “Usually he’d get introduced to new people through me. Had I wanted to sleep with any of them, by that point, I’d have already done so.” The man sighs deeply, obviously playing up the forlorn tone when he says, “Unfortunately for me, König here called dibs before I even met you personally.” His impressive act of a heartbroken lover mourning ‘the one that got away’ is of course entirely ruined by the shit-eating grin that spreads across his face as Roach simply rolls his eyes at him, matching smirk twisting his own lips.
“Very unfortunate,” he quips, just as König jumps in, out of nowhere.
“Do you want to?”
It’s spoken utterly casual, teasing undertone nowhere to be found, which has both Roach and Horangi turning to give him a surprised look. The man doesn’t usually comment or involve himself in their verbal game of chicken with anything more than the occasional smug look or slightly possessive kiss to Roach’s head. Not this time though. This time, he sounds genuinely – somewhat naively – curious.
Horangi narrows his eyes, cautious. “Want to what?”
König tilts his head at him, expression neutral. “Sleep with Gary.”
“…I feel like that’s a trick question.”
“It’s not.” König shrugs, one hand petting Princess, his other arm resting over Roach’s shoulders, lazily massaging at the nape of his neck. “I honestly just want to know if you’re being serious when you say you want to have sex with my fiancé.”
Phrased plainly like that, Roach kind of wants to sink into the floor. Far more bewildering though, is the fact that Horangi doesn’t immediately laugh it off, make a joke about König taking it too seriously, something along those lines. Instead, Roach looks over to find the man still as a corpse, expression flat, closed off.
A moment of suddenly far too tense silence passes before Horangi asks, challenges, “And what if I am?” There’s a subtle tension to his expression, the slightest lift of a chin, like someone ready to receive judgement, and Roach feels his mouth drop open.
A smile spreads on König’s face at that, easy and placating. Knowing, like he’d just proven a point. “I’d say don’t hold back on my behalf.”
Roach whirls around to gape at his fiancé now, fruitlessly opening and closing his mouth, ending up with a noise roughly translatable to Excuse me?
Finally breaking the staring contest with his friend to look at Roach, the smug look on König’s face falls away in an instant. “I – I mean only if you want to as well, of course!” he elaborates quickly, clearly alarmed at whatever expression Roach is making, the words he’d just said seeming to catch up with him. “Fuck, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m lending you out or something! Shit, Gary, I’m so sorry –,”
“Hey, hey, it’s fine, I just,” Roach blinks, not really affronted, just a little gobsmacked, maybe. “I didn’t think you’d want me to, you know. Fuck someone else.”
“Second that,” Horangi throws in, sounding just as confused.
König is squirming for real no, expression flushed with embarrassment, eyes guilty as they flick anywhere but Roach. “I don’t want you to do anything, Liebling! Christ, that’s not –,” He swallows, thinking over how to explain this. “Rangi’s been my best friend for years, an exception like no other, okay? If he really means it – and I have a feeling he does – I can be sure he’d treat you right. Plus, he keeps bringing it up, so I just –,” he sighs, a little helpless. “I thought I’d offer. I didn’t mean for it to sound –,”
“I’m not mad, Engel,” Roach jumps in, reassures. Has to, for his own sake, because König looking that distressed at the mere possibility of Roach misunderstanding him is making something wither and die in his chest. With a commiserating sigh, Roach snuggles himself closer against his fiancé. Reaches up to grasp the hand on his neck, intertwine their fingers, warmed metal sliding against each other. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… surprised, is all.”
Beneath his head, Roach feels König relax with a nervous puff of air, chest sagging slightly. “…Sorry.”
“No need.”
“I love you,” he mumbles, and it sounds like another apology. “More than anything.”
“I know,” Roach reassures softly, not needing the reminder, but giving his own nonetheless. “I love you too. Only you.”
“What I meant to say is, I wouldn’t mind sharing.” Here, he glances up at Horangi for a second, who’s watching the two of them be sappy without comment for once.
“If you want to be,” and König cringes at his own choice of wording then, “shared, that is.”
Roach thinks it over for a second. Truly thinks it over.
Looks back at Horangi, meets the intense look of his friend head on. “I always just assumed you were joking,” he admits a little dumbly, that rumble of What if I am?, the weight behind it, the heat, still bouncing around in the back of his mind.
“I can go back to joking,” Horangi offers immediately, grin uncharacteristically sheepish.
Does he want them to go back to joking, though? Pretend this conversation never happened without having any regrets later on?
Truthfully, Roach would be lying if he said he’d never thought about Kim Horangi like that. Despite being a major ass, the man had been dangerously charming from day fucking one. Hot as all hell too, and Roach had a healthy set of eyes on him, was very gay, and in the end, only human. Much as he played at being flippant and unaffected by it, some of the things Horangi said and did definitely left him more bothered than he’d ever admit to.
Unsure why, Roach shoots another glance at his fiancé. Maybe to confirm that he’s actually one hundred percent serious about this. König just smiles back at him, still completely nonchalant. Places a loving kiss to Roach’s head before turning back to the TV, simply saying, “Up to you, Liebling.”
So, when Roach turns back to look at Horangi next, there’s really no point in fighting down the burn he can feel slowly crawling up his face, is there? In turn, the other man’s own expression instantly melts into that damningly devilish grin of his, and Roach’s mouth feels far too dry all of a sudden. Horangi lets the thick tension hang in the space between them for another second or two, then all at once he’s getting up, next to them in two big strides.
Roach doesn’t know what he expected to happen next, but it’s certainly not Horangi eagerly going onto his knees before him, shuffling forward on the carpet with a bright grin until he’s right between his legs. Roach feels his breath hitch as two strong hands land on either knee, smooth along his thighs, squeezing slightly. König’s hand is still playing with the ends of his hair, almost cold against his skin now considering how flushed Roach feels suddenly with Horangi grinning up at him like that, tongue darting out to wet his lips, those dark, sharp eyes promising nothing but trouble.
Oh, fuck.
“Stop me whenever,” Horangi purrs, waits for Roach to nod dumbly before moving his hands again. Inside of his thighs now, thumbs pressing along the seams of his sweatpants, up and up, before changing course, spread hands grabbing him by the ass instead, pulling him closer to the edge of the cushion.
Princess, previously rumbling up a storm in König’s lap, uses that moment to jump off and claim the still warm, freshly vacated spot on the other couch, obviously fed up with the extra person in her immediate vicinity. Three’s a crowd, as they say.
“How far are we talking here?” Horangi asks conversationally, not once stopping the movement of his hands along Roach’s thighs, but the question isn’t directed at him.
“However far he’s comfortable with,” König answers simply, attention now solely on his fiancé and their friend as the hand in Roach’s hair becomes a little more deliberate.
“Jesus fuck,” Roach can’t help but breathe out as Horangi turns that gaze back on him. The sight alone makes him feel like he should hold onto something. Brace for impact, say his last prayers, maybe. Truly, what the fuck had he gotten himself into here?
On the next pass up his legs Horangi’s finger hook onto the waistband of his pants, starting to pull the fabric down torturously slow. He keeps eyecontact with him all the while, and Roach physically cannot look away. Wants to, kind of, because merely looking someone in the eyes shouldn’t be that intense, shouldn’t have him this hyperaware of Horangi’s every move, focus on the dull drag of his nails against skin, zero in on the almost biting sensation of his flushed thighs slowly being exposed to the chilly living room air. How in the hell does this already feel like far too much when it hasn’t even begun yet?
To keep the fabric from snagging, Roach has just about enough presence of mind to lift his hips a little before the other needs to say something, and Horangi’s grin somehow curls that little bit more around the edges.
“Eager,” he chuckles, and Roach feels his ears burn ever brighter. Christ, he is, isn’t he?
“He tends to be,” König comments lightly, a rumble against the top of Roach’s head, chin buried in his curls, scratch of his fingers on his scalp not helping him keep his wits about in the slightest.
The sweats pool around his ankles, and Horangi maneuvers them off the rest of the way one-handed, never breaking physical contact with Roach once. His hands are nicely warm on his skin, skin on skin, and it makes a certain tension snap into place at the base of his spine to feel them move upwards, long passes much more tactile now, so much more present and there, when Roach feels more and more like his head is anything but.
It takes a full second longer than it should to register the nudge against his knee, the smooth finger pads tapping against it, a request. But when it does, Roach spreads his legs apart that last bit further, as far as they will go, and Horangi settles snugly into place with a wink.
“There’s a good boy,” he lilts, and Roach’s breath stutters on the next exhale. For the first time since this started, they break line of sight, Roach averting his eyes. Has to, because fuck. What the fuck, that is so unfair, how does Horangi manage to make him squirm when he’s the one kneeling.
“No. No, no, look at me.” Roach does, immediately snaps his eyes back, still feeling far too exposed and hot in the face, but Horangi’s smile seems pleased. Indulging. “That’s it. Eyes on me, pretty.”
God help him, he’s a talker.
It makes sense though, doesn’t it? Horangi runs his mouth all the time, of course he’d be big on the dirty talk. Christ, Roach is so screwed.
They keep that eyecontact up even as Horangi dips his head low, looking up at Roach through his lashes all the way until hot, soft lips meet the inside of his middle thigh. Delicate at first, just a small peck, really, but even that already has him sucking in air through parted lips far too loudly for his own ears. Then more openmouthed kisses, a flick of his tongue, leaving behind cold, wet spots that have his hairs stand on end.
The whole time Roach fights the urge to let his eyes fall shut or glance away in embarrassment. Seems Horangi notices his struggle too, deeming the hard-fought obedience worthy of reward.
“Good boy,” he rumbles again, low yet fervently, slightly muffled against his skin, and this time Roach doesn’t fight turning his head away, eyes fixed momentarily on the ceiling to take a calming, measured breath, because if Horangi keeps this up, Roach will genuinely implode before anyone even touched him.
He's snapped back to reality with a sharp gasp as the man suddenly and without warning sinks his teeth into the meat of his thigh. Hard.
“Jesus fu –,” Roach groans, ending in a broken off keen through clenched teeth, screwing his eyes shut to keep them from watering.
The hand at the back of his skull finds its way to his neck, fingers tracing against the front of his throat, a rough thumb stroking along his flexed jaw. “He liked that,” König murmurs, nuzzled against the shell of his ear, placing a light, lingering kiss just underneath.
Horangi chuckles, a vibration against the abused flesh he’s still nibbling at, gentler than before, but it keeps the pain from subsiding completely. “No shit,” he agrees, and Roach can honest to god feel the shape of his grin pressed against the tender skin.
He moves on to his other leg, warm hand rubbing absentminded circles around the abandoned bite mark, pressing in a bit too harshly to be comfortable, hard enough to make Roach want to squirm out of the touch. It’s true though, he did like that. Very much so.
Horangi continues nipping and licking at the other thigh, openmouthed kisses that travel higher and higher, hands still petting across every other square inch of skin that isn’t currently occupied by his mouth. Never high enough though, the bastard so far resolutely ignoring the obvious tent in Roach’s boxers. Christ alive, he’s hard as a rock already and Horangi hasn’t even acknowledged his dick yet.
At this point though, Roach thinks he could get high enough from all these sensations alone. Get off on all this attention, no touching needed. Those two warm, skillful hands massaging his leg muscles, a hot mouth ghosting along oversensitive skin, tongue flat and rough and wet. König pressed along his side, long, familiar fingers a gentle pressure under his chin, simply holding his throat – no pressure – only enough grip to guide him closer so his fiancé can bury his nose at the nape of his neck, warm and comforting in his presence as he whispers sweet nothings.
It's… a lot, quite frankly.
With two extra hands, you’d think someone would give Roach some sort of actual relief at some point, but no. The man before him seems perfectly content to keep marking up his legs. If someone doesn’t put a hand on his cock soon, Roach is genuinely going to fucking lose it.
Since no one else gets the memo, he decides to take matters into his own hands, no pun intended. Slowly moves a subtle hand down to his aching dick, grant himself some bit of friction at least, but before he can, a hand snags around his wrist, König pulling it away again, holding it firmly against his own chest and Roach whimpers.
“You’re doing so good, Liebling, come on. Let him have his fun,” he soothes, a whisper behind his ear, followed by another kiss to his jaw, his cheek.
Cracking his eyes open, feeling the wetness around them already, Roach glances down to find Horangi already staring up at him, gaze piercing, teasing, testing, as he licks another languid line right next to the hem of his boxers.
“Maybe if you ask nicely,” König suggests, and Roach takes a deep, much-needed breath, chest fluttering.
“Rangi,” he croaks, and Roach can see the way those dark eyes widen minutely with want, filling with that glint of vindictive pleasure, rewarded for being a little shit. “Rangi, please.”
“Holy shit,” the man whispers under his breath, grin wide and loose. “Knew you’d sound fucking amazing, begging for me like that.” Another kiss to the skin by the hem of his briefs, warm, damp huff of air against them making his dick twitch when Horangi chuckles. “It’d be rude to keep him waiting when he whines so prettily, no?” he asks to König, who hums in agreement.
And then finally, finally, those expert fingers hook over the boxers’ waistband, pull the fabric down, just enough for Roach’s cock to finally spring free. The noise he makes when Horangi puts his whole hand around it next is most definitely a sob, and Roach can feel the first, actual tear roll down his cheek as the man rubs a thumb over the head, spreading precum between his fingers.
There’s a high-pitched noise trapped somewhere deep in his throat as Roach throws his head back, but König’s not having it. The hand at his jaw shifts, two fingers quickly shoved into his mouth, between his molars, holding his mouth open. “I’m sure Horangi wants to hear those pretty sounds of yours, Käferchen,” he murmurs hotly against his now fully exposed throat, suckling along its arch like it’s the sweetest thing in the world.
“Damn right I do,” Horangi says, and for a second the hand on his dick is gone, the other having moved firmly to the back of his ass, groping at the half-exposed muscle with vigor. Then the sound of spitting, before Horangi’s hand returns, wetter than before, gliding along his length more easily. “Wanna hear you cry when I suck your dick, baby. Sound so hot for me, so needy.”
If Horangi even so much as thinks of teasing him about how quickly he was reduced to a whimpering mess by him, Roach swears they’ll never fucking do this again.
Then any further thoughts about anything completely leave the building as in the next moment Horangi wraps his lips around the tip, lays his tongue flat against it, and Roach remembers with a start that he has a fucking barbell piercing. He’d noticed it a little against his thighs of course, but he hadn’t thought about how the small metal ball would feel against his dick, digging into the slit and fuck!
“Oh my fu – ah!” he cries out around the fingers in his mouth, has to strain his eyes downwards to catch a glimpse of Horangi as the man pops off the tip, grin wicked, tongue sticking out fully so the little metal ball catches the light.
Noticing his eagerness to be vocal now, König, still kissing at his neck, is kind enough to remove his fingers so Roach can speak freely. “Oh my fucking god,” he all but sobs at Horangi, the man looking smug as all hell and unfairly attractive as he continues lapping lazily at Roach’s dick, no real pressure behind any of it, except for the hand firmly holding the base still. “Please do that again, Rangi, please! Oh my god.”
“He sounds so fucking good begging like this, doesn’t he?” König asks, momentarily detaching himself from Roach’s no doubt thoroughly marked neck.
“Could get used to that, I think,” Horangi snickers, grinning like a loon. “Such a good boy.”
And still, the man makes no move whatsoever to put his tongue back where Roach wants it most, his hand the only thing on Roach’s cock actually, completely unmoving except for the thumb that’s still idly spreading around the slowly leaking mix of spit and precum.
Roach is going to go fucking insane.
“Please, please, Rangi. Come on, please.”
Horangi shakes his head, not a denial, the expression on his face more like disbelieving wonder. “Music to my fucking ears, swear to god,” he huffs, said more to himself than anyone else, and then he’s bowing low to sink his mouth halfway down Roach’s cock in one go.
The resulting moan gets swallowed by König, who uses the hand he’d twisted back into his curls to turn Roach’s head around, slotting their lips together in a heated kiss. It’s messy and frantic, because Roach can’t pay any real attention to it, losing the rhythm as his mouth involuntarily falls open again and again with another moan, another huff of pleasure when Horangi’s done slicking up his dick and returns to drag his tongue across the head.
Roach is full-on crying now, relief instead of frustration, but he really couldn’t care any less. Every new noise coming from him is more of a sob than the one before it, his heartbeat erratic, breathing wrecked and stuttering, temples wet, forehead clammy, and he’s pretty sure now that this might just be one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. The hand still pinned to König’s chest, twisted around his fingers, is holding on for dear life, the other clenched around König’s own wrist at Roach’s hair, doing much the same.
And then he loses the plot completely, already close, already halfway there when Horangi suddenly takes his hand away and sinks down completely until his lips are at the base of Roach’s cock.
“Fu –!” he sobs, ending in a keening, drawn-out, sob. His hips twitch upwards wholly without his input, but Horangi already has a hand firmly on there, holding him in place, the other drawing circles into his thigh with a thumb.
“Being so good for us, Liebling, hold still. Rangi’s gonna take good care of you, alright?” A kiss to his cheek, thumb swiping away another tear, fingers stroking his curls. Roach has his eyes clenched shut again. Takes a full second to just breathe because he’s actually feeling a little lightheaded.
That perfect, wet-hot pressure around his dick shifts, Horangi swallowing around it, and Roach cries out again, so close, so fucking close.
“Rangi. Rangi, Rangi, Rangi,” he rambles out, suddenly frantic. “Get off! Get off, I’m gonna –,”
Horangi doesn’t get off, hand on his hipbone holding firm as he backs up a little, then bobs down again, starts humming and –
Roach comes down his throat, mouth ajar but no noise coming out, throat locking up completely in his orgasm. Feels Horangi suck him through it, swallow all of it down, lips sealed around the base of his cock. It’s all he can focus on for a bit, the way Horangi’s throat works around him, that hand on his bare hip, under his sweater. Another on his cheek, beneath his eye. Soft lips against his forehead.
He snaps back to the present with a heaving sob. An inhale, not unlike coming up for air after a long dive, eyes wide open, blown to full, but not really registering the sight of their plain, white ceiling above him.
“Jesus christ,” Roach blubbers out around a laugh, airy and wrecked. Looks down at Horangi, who’s swiping a bit of saliva and cum from his chin. Roach’s cum. “Jesus fucking christ.”
“Told you I’d make you cry sucking your dick,” he says, voice low and rough, rougher than usual, looking endlessly pleased with himself.
“Never doubted that for a second,” Roach laughs, swiping at his eyes, the tearstained cheeks, skin feeling unpleasantly taught.
As if nothing happened, Horangi gets up and walks to the kitchen, Roach still catching his breath in König’s arms, the man still nosing at his hair, radiating nothing but relaxed contentedness. Horangi comes back a moment later with two glasses of water, handing one to Roach.
“Thanks,” he says.
The other nods, downs half of his own in one big sip, clearing his throat a bit once he’s done.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” Horangi says around a chuckle, coughs again. “Been a while.”
“Would have thought you’d be used to sucking dick…”
“Nah, not that often,” he says, shooting Roach a wink. “Only for the special ones.”
Seems their back to flirting then, no change on that front despite Horangi having his chance to get that out of his system. Roach can’t help but smile.
“Lucky me,” he intones, dripping sarcasm.
“Damn right ‘lucky you’,” Horangi shoots back, knowing damn well his blowjob game was nothing to scoff at, and Roach certainly won’t pretend like it is after that. “Eating pussy is a lot easier for me than this, quite honestly. That’s why I like it more.”
With another lazy grin over a job well done, Horangi saunters back to his couch, Princess long gone, probably because of the noise, and makes to stretch out his creaking, cramped-up legs.
“What are you doing?” Roach asks, suddenly confused. Done stowing himself away in his boxers for the time being, not even bothering with his pants somewhere on the floor, he stops halfway into the hallway when he notices the man isn’t following after.
Horangi lifts his head over the back of the couch, brow quirked. “Laying down?”
Roach blinks at him, uncomprehending. “Thought you wanted to ‘tap that’?”
Horangi stares back for a long, awkward moment, Roach left standing in the hallway, three meters from the bedroom door in a loose sweater and his boxers and nothing else. Then, the other is sinking back down on the couch cushions, disappearing from sight with a dismissive, “Nah. I’m good.”
“Wha –,” Roach fumbles, lost for words, somewhere between embarrassed an incredulous, feeling distinctly blueballed despite just getting the blowjob of a lifetime. “Are you serious?”
Horangi doesn’t answer him, back to watching TV.
Looking over at König, the other man is doing much the same, still lounging on their new sofa, relaxed as can be until he notices Roach boring a hole into the side of his face.
When the other tilts his head in question, Roach gives him a very pointed look, something that says You coming or what?, because he’s for sure getting railed tonight, one way or another, but his fiancé just blinks at him for another second, two, and then a small, apologetic smile twists his lips.
“This game show’s quite interesting,” he says, shrugging, and then he just. Turns back around, watching said game show.
Roach continues standing rooted in the hallway like a let down idiot, openly gaping and freezing his ass off, not quite sure if he should rather scamper away like a kicked, dismissed puppy now or work up a fuss about it, because what the actual fuck –
Both König and Horangi break into laughter.
Small snickers from König, a hand at his mouth, full on cackles from Horangi that have Roach looking like a furious street light, positively fuming regardless of the relief easing through his chest.
“I am going to skin the both of you alive, I swear to fucking –,”
“I’m sorry, Liebling, I’m sorry –,”
“ – one of these fucking days, I am going to snap your spines in half –,”
“Holy shit, the fucking look on your face, I can’t –,”
Horangi stumbles upright, wiping an actual tear from the corner of his eye. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cry, that was golden,” he sighs, still wheezing slightly. With a slap to his ass, he passes by Roach on his way to the bedroom, the smaller still standing there, still red in the face, pouty scowl a fixed thing, arms folded, wholly unamused.
“Come on then, cowboy,” Horangi chuckles lowly, before disappearing around the corner, leaving the door open behind himself so his best friend can hear the yell of, “König! I’m gonna fuck your fiancé in your own bedroom!”
“Have fun!” said best friend calls back, mirthful eyes still fixed on their TV.
“I’m gonna make him scream my name until it’s the only word he can think of!”
König’s shoulders shake with barely held back snickers, and he turns to meet Roach’s eyes, still calling after Horangi, “If you’re trying to get a rise out of me it’s not gonna work! I already won, I already ‘bagged that’!”
“Touché!”
The grin on Roach’s face is starting to hurt his cheeks, it’s so wide, effectively replacing the scowl.
He makes his way over to König again, one last time for good measure. Comes to a stop behind the sofa, his fiancé’s head against his stomach.
“Love you,” he murmurs, eyes soft, grin sappy, nothing but adoration and reverence in his voice. Leans down to place a long, lingering kiss to those perfect, rosy lips.
“Love you too,” König says, the look in his eyes just as tender, just as loving, mirroring his tone exactly. “Have fun.”
“I will.” Roach grins, placing another peck to the corner of König’s mouth, just because he can.
“You coming or what?!” Horangi calls from the bedroom.
With one last look at König’s relaxed, happy smile, Roach bounds down the hallway, after his friend.
“Eager much?”
“Oh, I’ll show you fucking eager!” is the immediate response, followed by an undignified squawk as Roach is bodily thrown onto the bed in one fell swoop.
Little did Horangi know that he likes being manhandled around. Sucker.