Your name is DAVE STRIDER (Incarnation: 69, Status: Dead) and you are currently investigating STRANGE NOISES that have been emerging from YOUR BATHROOM for quite some time. You seem to think that the noises "sound like the joneses dog whining when left outside with nothing but a fucking canine party hat as mrs jones wastes the day away pretending a summer disco party can revert her back to seventeen and make her into the dancing queen"
Your investigation has been going smoothly and you have obtained a LIST OF SUSPECTS. It is currently populated with a single individual, TAVROS NITRAM, the unforgivably dorky yin to your unspeakably awesome yang, who has been crashing at your place for "fuck knows how long," as there is no real coherent sense of the time in "this fantasy bubble coughed up from the hellish depths of those tentacled assholes."
The noises started briefly after Tavros entered the bathroom and have been steadily crescendoing since. Now that you feel that you have a good handle on whodunnit in your official noise investigation, you must establish what the noises are prior to incarceration and punishment. You have made GREAT STRIDES in your investigation of what they are through SMIRKING, LEANING CAREFULLY NEXT TO THE DOOR WITHOUT MAKING A SOUND, and placing your HAND unforgivably close to your CROTCH, which you assure yourself is IRRELEVANT TO THE SITUATION.
As the MESSIAH OF COOL, and therefore, very well versed in what all the cool kids are doing these days (and, apparently the not so cool kids), you are well aware of what the noises are, but ending your INVESTIGATION now would mean basing it off of ASSUMPTIONS and that is not permissible. You must first collect HARD EVIDENCE, which can only come from seeing the noises being made, firsthand. You gained this insight and other crazy shit involving justice from a BATSHIT INSANE BLIND GIRL FROM ANOTHER UNIVERSE and you are secretly glad that you did. Very secretly.
The PANTING and MOANING emerging from the crack under the closed bathroom door have turned into slightly louder RHYTHMIC WHIMPERS. This calls for further exploration.
==> Dave: Open Door
Opening the door would ruin this moment and destroy the potential for seeing this miraculous spectacle firsthand, dunkass. The sounds might stop as soon as the door opens. Then you could lack the evidence you need for the PUNISHMENT OF THIS CRIME and you know that these noises mean the maker should SERVE HARD TIME. You refuse to touch the door, but move in slightly closer. This helps you no more than before to UNCOVER THE MYSTERY.
==> Dave: Be suddenly overcome with distress
You are near incapable of being overcome by distress because of your INTERNAL POKER FACE of LEVEL 46, which just so happens to be all of the levels. Yes, all of them. Instead, you are hit with a SILENT WAVE OF INTROSPECTION concerning your HARSH THOUGHTS ON JUSTICE.
It occurs to you that your FASCINATION WITH JUSTICE began when you and your friends began playing SBURB. You came to realize its dire importance and began noting very quickly when things were COMPLETELY ILLEGAL. As a result, you attempted to UPHOLD THE MORAL LAW OF SKAIA, regardless of not actually knowing it yourself. You did not need to, as you BECAME THE LAW. You are UNSURE OF THE SOURCE OF YOUR LEGALITY FETISH, but you are sure that it is all YOUR OWN AWESOME DOING. It only makes sense that your status as THE LAW should carry over into death.
You are jolted back to reality by the sound of Tavros (or so you believe) taking in a sharp breath and letting out a loud, breathy moan. You begin to VISUALIZE the possible noise source and are hit with VERY STIRRING VISUALS involving your lanky twink of a bubblemate. You begin to imagine him leaning his back up against your sink, his black cotton pants around his ankles as his hand grips a large meaty tentacle cock, sliding up and down and really working it. The sounds from before make you wonder if his capable of penetrating himself with his own hypothetical tentacle dick as he fondled his horns or some other "freaky alien shit that would only turn someone on ironically." You are apparently feeling pretty ironic today.
You start to smirk, wondering what possible PUNISHMENTS are the best for "first-degree spam porpoise slapping with a side of alien asshole penetration action," and "jacking it in your bros home without first sending a request and an invite to the show."
==> Dave: Get back on that evidence
Your imagination and introspection has gotten you NO FURTHER in your investigation. You try to chalk it up to lunch break, but deep down you know "the times are tight belinda you cant just be rouging up your big lips for five minutes when the big mans already in the office."
You suddenly hear the distinct gut-wrenching sound of HORNS SCRATCHING UP YOUR MIRROR with a distinct "uHH, sHIT,"
Looks like the squad just got called out. This one might be a winner.
==> Dave: Carefully nudge door with toe while the mirror scratcher is distracted by his crime
You are unsure of what this "toe" is, how it has anything to do with "nudging," or who this "Dave" character is. You are too busy being the door. You are not a REAL door, of course. Oh no. Rather you are a MEMORY FIGMENT of what used to be a FINE DOOR. Many philosophers would point to this and ask "if this was my grandfather's door, replaced completely by an identical duplicate fabricated from memory, would it still be my grandfather's door?" The correct answer to that question, as far as you are concerned, is "fuck you and open me."
==> Door: Swing open
You are incapable of swinging open of your own will. In fact, the GREAT SECRET OF DOORKIND handed down throughout centuries dictates that you DO NOT OPEN UNLESS FORCED. It is the way you must be. Or, at least, the way you are right now considering the gray boy locked you to conceal his LEWD BEHAVIORS. Anyway, why would you need to open? All inhabitants in the bubble are already in the bathroom.
==> Be Past Dave from 2 minutes ago
Who else would you be? You have obviously made the superior choice, dude. Your current goal is to SEEK A NEW VANTAGE POINT in order to unearth the crime of the GREAT WANKERING and MIRROR DESTRUCTION INCIDENT. You cannot go through the door at this point in time, considering the loud noises have resumed, now with more thumping.
You are pretty chill with all this, however. You have a solution. Maybe this would be a problem for someone else, but not for you.
==> Dave: Go back in time, go through the door, and hide behind the shower curtains
That sounds like the behavior of a creep that you would find lurking in the boy's changing room at the mall. To you, that just sounds like the behavior of YOUR BRO and therefore NORMAL.
Thankfully, time shit still appears works here. You are now in the shower, hidden behind the curtain. Surely, this criminal will be BROUGHT TO JUSTICE.
Your bubblemate Tavros enters the bathroom and locks the door behind him.
==>Dave: Ponder the puppets piled in the shower
You look down at the pile of SMUPPETS your brother so lovingly left you in the SHOWER. They stare up at you with a certain PERVERTED INTENT that you can't pretend doesn't creep you the fuck out. Perhaps if you were not APPREHENDING A CRIMINAL, you might feel like your intents were similar to those of the smuppets. However, you have an INTENT FOR JUSTICE like Scruff McGruff has a nose for crime. Any accusations of your intent not being justice based are nothing more than LIES and the accusers deserve to be BANISHED. Since these puppets seem to ACCUSE you, you suddenly have the desire to BANISH them. Maybe if you focus you can remember a time when the puppets weren't in the tub and you can change your bubble environment to that time.
==>Dave: Focus to make the smuppets go away
You cannot, as the puppets have always been in your shower. In fact, Bro had them mounted into the tub floor and along the shower walls long before you can remember. You had always been relieved that they were face-side rather than ass-side out, but now their eyes are beginning to unnerve you. For the first time ever, you wished it was plush rump and not penis nose that lined your shower walls.
You are brought back to reality when you are almost BEAMED IN THE FACE with TROLL HORNS. With a frown, you back up against the plush shower wall and reposition yourself away from those horns of mass destruction. You hear the sound of pants unzipping and forget about the smuppet dick-nose on your face by being overcome by a THIRST FOR JUSTICE and a large SURGE IN YOUR PANTS. This is it. It's happening bro.
You croon your neck to look around the shower curtain, annoyed that your shades aren't CONDUCIVE TO EVIDENCE COLLECTION. What you can see, however, is not what you were expecting.
Tavros seems very focused on his breathing and you hold in a snicker, knowing he will abandon that soon enough. Your eyes travel down his body and find his hand on what appears to be a completely normal-- albeit gray-- cock. He begins humming softly to himself and you note that it is "When You Wish Upon a Star." Jegus, is it even possible for him to be a bigger doofus? You are trying very hard to hold in your laughter. Your eyes return to scanning his body and you stiffen as you really focus on his alien fiesta stick. Oh gog.
You stop yourself from thinking about some joke about "you know what they say about a man with big oblong horns" and stray even farther from "jeez bro are all trolls hung like their fucking spirit animal." Still, you wonder if that's as big as it gets.
Unconsciously, your eyes travel up your bubblemate's body again, but your eyes snap back down to his crotch in confusion when he puts his meaty wondermaker away. You knew how this shit was going to go down, didn't you?
==> Dave: Be Tavros
You are now TAVROS NITRAM. You are currently in the human version of a LIQUID WASTE SECRETION UNIT, known to them as a BATHROOM. You are currently WASHING YOUR HANDS and SMILING LIKE A DOFUS at yourself in THE MIRROR. You are having a PRETTY GOOD DAY, if you can consider the entire time you've been dead as a day. You have made a NEW FRIEND, who often COMES ONTO YOU through what you would assume to be a LARGE NETWORK OF CULTURAL MISUNDERSTANDINGS. You are unsure of why you still secrete liquid waste following your death, but you would assume it has something to do with your NERVOUS LIQUID SECRETION SAC.
======>Tavros: Retrospect on what triggered your nervous bladder
You are unsure of what a "bladder" is, but you can tell us what made your liquid secretion sac nervous this particular time, if that's alright.
======>Tavros: Stop being picky about the terminology and just tell the story
You and DAVE, the aforementioned NEW FRIEND, had been playing video games. He was sitting on the couch and you were on the floor because "those horns take up enough room to form a posse." As such, Dave has taken to calling you "tav and the boys," "the square and his pointy band," and other equally weird and confusing nicknames.
Dave has a KNACK for HUMAN SEXUAL INNUENDO that often makes you "uHH, a LITTLE BIT, uNCOMFORTABLE," but also makes you "nOT UNHAPPY, rEPULSED, oR ANYTHING LIKE THAT," In fact, it normally makes your blood pump skip a thump and occasionally that blood goes right to your BONE BULGE. You have never been in a relationship before and the prospect of one starting always makes you FREEZE UP and STAMMER. It does not help that you are unsure of what to make of the sincerity of his advances, so normally you try your BEST to IGNORE THEM.
This time your BEST WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
You had been losing that weird human game again. You seemed to lose perpetually, but you contend that's because Dave just had "wEIRD AND REALLY VIOLENT GAMES THAT DON'T REALLY MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD," Normally, Dave just let you keep losing, but this time on your seventeenth failed attempt to infiltrate enemy territory, Dave paused the game. You crooned your neck back, your head sinking slowly into the plush couch cushion behind you and you looked up at his ever-expresionless visage. "i dont know why we even play this shit when you seem to think its about merrily skipping around exploring the landscape like youre a lumberjack and its okay."
That comment, like most of Dave's, had confused you to no end, but you understood the sentiment. You were still doing it wrong. You frowned and set your controller down, knowing that games were probably done for now and you would probably have to try some other time to impress him. "sORRY, i WAS BUSY THINKING AGAIN," His eyebrow shot up at that. "aLSO, i AM A LITTLE THIRSTY, mAYBE i SHOULD GO GET SOMETHING TO DRINK FROM THE THERMAL HUB," You stood to go, but he swiftly leaned forward and grabbed "the pointy band," pulling your head back down onto the couch. His face hovered a mere 3 inches above yours and you froze. Perfect pink lips loomed immediately above you. Thump thump thump. "cmon nitram get your head in the game its hard to capture the flag when youre too busy wondering what dress to wear to the ball tonight or whatever the hell else goes on in that large head of yours"
You said nothing in reply, too terrified, instead staring closely at his soft pale skin, your heart beating out of control in your ears. He leaned down closer, his tongue sliding slowly over his lips and you shivered. You stayed rigid, half-incoherent thoughts flying through your head at a million miles an hour, aching for those lips to collide with your own. It felt like an eternity before either of you moved and you finally gathered up enough pride to speak, "dAVE, wHAT, uHH-"
He trailed his fingers down the tips of your horns, along the main length, and finally against where they met your scalp. "is there a problem man." Slowly, he stroked the base of your horn and your mouth fell open.
"n, nO, i JUST," Again, he rubbed at the base, this time a little harder. Trying to hold in a shiver, you keened into his hand and he pressed back even harder. "hNNG, dA, dAVE," His poker face fell momentarily into an expression of shock and, just like that, his hands were gone. He quickly contorted his face into an imperfect deadpan tainted by the growing red stains on his cheeks. Your head throbbed and every nerve in your body was busy standing at attention, your blood pump sinking to your stomach, wishing he would reach out and touch you like that once more.
"heh you like that huh" The smugness in his tone shocked you.
"wH, wHAT," You stammered, not knowing what the hell had just happened. His smirk grew wider and you sank your claws into his carpet, kneeding nervously. His head nodded at your crotch and it felt like the whole world went still. Your bulge.
"it seems you need a little help" Your eyes snapped down to your growing, uhh, problem and you quickly pushed yourself up off of the floor, dismissing yourself with a poorly veiled "i, uHH, jUST NEED TO VISIT YOUR LIQUID WASTE SECRETION ROOM," Thankfully, the embarrassment had alerted your bulge that no action would come of that moment, and had just filled you with the URGENT NEED to rid yourself of LIQUID WASTE.
Now, here you are.
You begin focus on your reflection again. That memory got you worked up. Again. You just have to close your eyes and breathe.
Instead, you begin to remember the feeling of his fingers running slowly down your horns and brushing against your scalp and how much you "liked that." You can feel the blood shooting to your crotch again.
======>Tavros: Consider the fact that feelings are hard and no one understands
You frown and look down at the sink, failing to make eye contact with yourself. Who are you kidding? Dave doesn't mean anything by it. He is most likely just MESSING WITH YOUR HEAD in order to see you writhe. It seems your mind does not agree, for, from the depths of your brain, an ANGEL'S CHORUS begins to play.
Your eyes raise slowly to look at the reflection in the mirror and you swear that you can see an OLDER, SUAVER VERSION of YOURSELF in the reflection. A wild RUFIO has appeared. RUFIO'S VOICE booms in your head, "He's showing the signs of being flushed for you; you just have to believe! Don't get so down, my little friend! Charge ahead!" In support of his claims, Rufio offers the PILES OF EVIDENCE you have been collecting for Dave's potential flushcrush on you. Rufio seems intent on hammering one memory in particular into your head. Under his guidance, you begin to REMINISCE.
Some time ago, you had been watching a shitty movie when Dave wordlessly patted the cushion beside him. After quite a debacle with your horns, you both finally managed to fit on the couch when Dave slid so that his head was beneath your horns. Not five minutes after you had gotten situated, Dave stretched, wrapping his arm around your back and squeezing your shoulder. You began to stammer nervously, but he put his finger against your lips, crooning softly, "ssh only bad movies now ssshhh" His fingers dropped, trailing slowly down your neck before resting against your abdomen, and you swallowed hard. It seemed Dave wouldn't let up, though, as his other hand began moving up and down your arm sent delicate jolts of pleasure up your spine. The thumping of your heart in your ears was so loud you couldn't focus on the movie any longer. At the end, he ran his fingers up the back of your neck, softly pushing up your hair and then smoothing it again. By the time he stood up and left the room, your entire body was tingling and you were a mess.
That was far from the only time. Your bulge throbs as you think about the time he began whispering in your ear, tugging at the pointed part of the lobe with his lips. A shiver runs up your spine as the time he dragged your shirt over your head just to "see how that shit works" and took the opportunity to rub the nubs left by your vestigal legs. You remember the sensation of his soft fingers running slowly over the bumps, rubbing and caressing them carefully, in and out of every indent in your body. Your pulse escalates as you think about the time he rubbed every kink out of your back in what was called a "human massage," his oil-slicked fingers trailing all over your back. Not being able to take the sudden influx of memories anymore, you have taken to PALMING YOURSELF THROUGH YOUR PANTS and are listening closely to see if Dave is waiting. Luckily for your THROBBING ERECTION, it sounds like he has started another game and you can get away with taking some one on one time with Tav Junior.
It has been quite some time since you last relieved yourself. The last time was when you were in your own bubble. You begin to question whether here and now is the right time and place, but you decide that you can just make it quick.
You take in a deep breath and your fingers shake as you undo the button of your pants. You push them down just enough to grab the base of your bulge and you shiver. You let go and slide your fingers past your bulge, brushing them along the entrance to your nook. Slickening fluid drips from it down you hand and you shudder. You haven't been this turned on in a long time. Even if you don't relieve yourself, you'll already need to rinse off your nook to make sure the lube doesn't stain your pants. It seems you really need it.
==> Shower Dave: Watch in fascination
You have just finished watching your bubblemate sing A GLORIOUS HYMN softly before talking to his reflection in a FAUX DEEP VOICE. You raise an eyebrow at the spectacle. You have no clue in hell as to how he got "such good shit" or what kind of bizarre trip that "good shit" was sending him on, although apparently it included not only an exclusive tour for one down schizo lane, but also a ticket for one lithe Troll Back to meet a certain Fine Door, and an all expenses-paid vacation to exotic Cockland Village for one eager hand.
You may not have been invited to this exclusive event, but you guess you must be in the hypothetical bushes immediately outside of Cockland Village (you note quickly that in fact, Tavros does not have a bush over his junk, so that metaphor is not nearly as creepy as it could be). You watch intently as his hand runs the length of that thick spectacle of a cock that you had thought was massive before, but seeing it now sends bolts of envy to your crotch. Against all logic and laws of nature, it somehow managed to get even bigger, the tip now rubbing and writhing against his lower abdomen. Back the fuck up- writhing?
You had thought he was just uncut before, but it seems that what you had assumed to be normal foreskin was actually a sheath for something alarmingly tentacle-esque. Tentacle-esque? Scratch that. It bended and curled like a tentacle. It squirmed like a tentacle. It slowly tapered off to a slimy tip. It has soft ridges all the way up the edge like you would assume the sex industry would design to market as a "sex tentacle for her pleasure- now with more bumps!" It was covered in a thin sticky brown film, which you figured must be some kind of lube, as the parts that glistened the most allowed for Tavros's fingers to slide over the quickest. It was, for all intensive purposes, a tentacle. What you had been staring at before was merely the sheath; the real site to behold was the thick, bumpy, self-lubricating tentacle cock. Oh jegus.
Your throat goes dry as Tavros lets out a soft moan. His fingers are sliding up the length of his unsheathed tentacle slowly, taking careful measures to squeeze the girth a little tighter after every ridge. He pinches the tip and his mouth drops ajar silently before he slides his hand back down across the ridges again. Without stopping his ministrations, he slides his back down the door and sits on the bathroom floor, his horns just barely missing really fucking up the sink. He begins to buck and your eyes widen behind the shades- is he...? No, it would seem that was some kind of failed clumsy attempt at kicking his pants off. After another hilarious spectacle of writhing and kicking, he loses round two against the pants. You could not be more happy that you are here for this show. With a gasp, he finally takes his hand off his bulge and removes the stubborn piece of clothing. Without missing a beat, he squeezes the base of his arousal again.
In the back of your mind, a small voice attempts to keep you on track; You're just waiting for the mirror scratching incident, then you'll stop watching. This is evidence. You brush it off with a silent nod and watch Tavros spread his legs as far open as possible, exposing himself entirely on your floor.
Normally, you might just find it in you to smirk and make some joke about how predictable that a guy like him has no balls, but rather you are captivated by the fact that he has not two holes- one immediately below his tentacle where you thought his balls WOULD be and the one you were expecting. Upon closer inspection, you note that the entire area is covered with the same lube-like substance that coated his cock. He probably is really easy to-
Oh fuck no. Not going there. No. You try to push the thought away and succeed, but only because you notice him carefully bending down and attempting to lick the tip of the tentacle. Your mouth hangs open in awe as tongue meets tentacock. Shit. Should he get a trophy for some kind of lonely geek achievement for blowing himself? Or is that more of a general "I'm proud of you, son" achievement? You're a little unsure, especially when the tentacle wraps around the tip of Tavros's tongue and he lets out a whimper. His eyes go widen and he pulls his head up, a small trail of saliva still connecting his tongue and tip of the tentacle.
You hold your breath softly, hoping that he didn't hear you in the hallway. You close your eyes and hear the faint sounds of Halo and you exhale quietly. You're not out there yet. When you open your eyes again, you notice that Tavros has changed position, his ass listed slightly off the floor. He is looking around intently. You don't have to ponder long as he reaches out and grabs the smuppet on a stick that Bro always claimed was a plunger. You are eager to see what plans Tavros has for it. Maybe this can be added to the list of violations.
Tavros inspects the smuppet with a frown and you smirk, glad that your roommate disapproves as well. Maybe one day the two of you can DESTROY ALL SMUPPETS, but that day must wait. You watch intently as his fingers run the length of the handle, lingering on the tip. He takes in a deep breath and you unconsciously take one in unison with him. Carefully, he positions the tip of the handle at his back entrance and your eyes widen. Is he seriously going to just slide it in?
...Well, fuck. It seems so. He inserts only a little, but it is apparently enough for him to through his head back in ecstasy, his jaw thrown all the way open. Suddenly, you become aware of your hand in your boxers. Oh no. No no no. This isn't something that you can do. This isn't actually-
"hNNG, aAAH, d, dAVE, "
Against your will, your heart drops to your stomach and your erection throbs. You move over and hide completely behind the curtain again. You cannot find it in you to make a joke about how "all the ladies fap to this fine piece of strider ass even the freaky troll dudeladies" because this is entirely too real. You're far out of joking territory now. It seems your INTERNAL POKER FACE of LEVEL 46 is NOT GOOD ENOUGH, as you begin to freak out a little.
Why the fuck is this freaking you out? Get your head it the game. You take a deep breath to try to calm yourself. Maybe it's just that you haven't been able to get your wank on since that dofus began following you everywhere in this death bubble. Yes. That must be it. So, doing it now, just this once, should be excusable, right?
Your bubblemate's breath hitches and you reluctantly peek around the curtain again. You can no longer see where his tentacle is. You look down at his other hole and you hate yourself a little for beginning to salivate.
Is he fucking himself with a plunger and his own tentacle? What? Shit.
==> DAVE: Lean forward too far to get a better look and fall out of the shower.
No. Why the hell would you do that? That would DESTROY ALL HOPE of evidence collection. Remember? Evidence collection? You haven't forgotten that evidence collection is what this is all about. Still, it's true you can't see anything. You'll lean forward a little more but not enough to-
Tavros looks at you in horror, the plunger still sticking out of his ass and his cock shoved deep inside of him. You sit up and pick your sunglasses up off the floor, sliding them up your nose. You look up at him and shrug. Welp.
==>Tavros: be the porn star
You cannot be the porn star. You are far too mortified. If you were in a better place mentally, you might wonder what being the porn star entailed, but if you did, you would quickly come to the realization that it “wOULDN’T BE A TERRIBLY GOOD IDEA, pERHAPS,” especially considering that being the accidental porn star is what landed you in this predicament to begin with. Suddenly, something dawns on you.
He saw it. Oh god oh god oh god.
You quickly snap your knees together, the plunger sliding out of your nook with a faint pop. To your aroused horror, Dave reaches out and calmly pulls your knees back apart, pinning them to the ground under his weight. In a second flat, his face is lingering mere inches from yours and you wonder how he got so fast.
“cmon bro cant just start the gun show and close up the exhibition as soon as the feds come through for inspection”
Your mouth falls open in shock as you wade past the verbosity and the implication registers in the back of your mind. He wants you to keep going. For a moment, the whole world stands still. Then his breath ghosts across your lips and suddenly your heart is everywhere; falling to your stomach, lodging itself in your throat, trying to deafen you with a loud set of thump thump thumps in your ears. Every second passes like sweeps, and it feels like you’re spinning. It is as if you’re a grub again and time can’t go fast enough.
He looks down at your crotch again and his gaze sets you on fire. You can feel it consuming you, eating up every little shard of dignity you have left. You realize that there is no place left to hide. You try to back away out of instinct, but he tightens his grip on your knees and pins you in place. You feel like you’ve been added to some perverse collection of captured flutterbeasts, your wings spread and your soul bared under the microscope. You can no longer abscond.
“well the press is waiting in anticipation for that big release” His words hit your cheek in hot, breathy bursts and your stomach turns over twice. You try to turn your head away, but your horn hits against the door.
“w, wHAT,” His face looms in closer to yours and your mouth goes dry. You silently curse the rush of blood to your bulge when he begins to speak again, each word brushing his soft, moist lips against yours.
“they have cameras at the ready bro are you going to keep them waiting” When he finishes speaking, his lips still linger on yours, unmoving. You wonder if your back could be any stiffer and if you have ever been this nervous in your entire life.
“iS THAT SOME KIND OF HUMAN INNUENDO,” You find yourself saying each word carefully, reveling in each soft brush against his lips that every syllable brings you.
His teeth pull at your bottom lip and you whimper; this is the type of thing that causes heart attacks in guys like you. “dude do I have to spell shit out for you every time" He shook his head and the tip of his nose presses against yours. "did papabull never take you in the back stable and teach you about being a man”
The sound of your rapid heavy breathing is just about enough to compete with the pounding in your ears and you wonder if you will ever hear normally again. You don’t know what to say, you just wish that he would do that thing with his teeth again. “i, tHINK IT WOULD BE, nICE, iF WE MAYBE, uHH,”
==> Dave: Shut that boy up