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Vox and Valentino had argued, virulently, then left the night on a simmering, hostile note. Unresolved tension festered throughout their shower, into brushing their teeth, and finally within their bed. It nestled underneath the sheets with them, residing in the space between.
But the argument was not the only nasty, curdling stench that kept them uncomfortably awake.
Vox shifted behind Valentino, the mattress creaking with his adjustments. The sheets rustled, and he grunted softly.
Finally, somewhere beneath the blankets, a low, rumbling sound emerged.
Prrrbbtt.
Silence followed for a beat. Valentino opened one eye, turning his head just so.
Unfortunately, Vox appeared to be asleep. It was difficult to chastise him while he rested. It was possible that he was merely pretending to circumvent blame, knowing he was guilty—but nevertheless, Val let it go this time. He turned back, pulling the covers back up to his chin, resigned to settle back in.
However, within seconds, the gas spread beneath the covers, creeping up to the opening near Valentino’s face. The smell was abominable.
Val immediately scowled, his face screwing up against the onslaught of gas. “Oh, fuck you.”
Vox did not so much as twitch behind him. He was infuriatingly serene, blissfully preserved from the stench of his own gas. He seemed to sleep peacefully beneath the blankets. Unfair.
With a frustrated huff, Valentino tried to settle back in, letting his eyes slip shut. He breathed through his mouth for a few minutes as the smell subsided, permeating away from the concentrated air beneath the covers.
However, wrenching Valentino straight back up to awareness, another one slipped out of Vox. In his restful state, his ass relaxed, working of its own accord to rid his belly of whatever had given him gas. A longer one rolled out of him, rumbling the mattress.
Prrrrrrrrt.
Vox sighed a contended breath afterward, sounding infuriatingly relieved.
Valentino sat bolt upright. “Vox. That’s fucking rancid.”
He stirred beside him, wiggling deeper into the bed. “What do you mean?” He mumbled sleepily.
Val scoffed, dripping in offense. “You just farted.”
“I can’t control my body while unconscious.”
He chucked a pillow at Vox’s head. It bounced uselessly to the ground.
Vox laughed, a full-chested chuckle that shook the mattress faintly. It was all but a confession. The bastard had been awake.
“You’re such an asshole,” Valentino seethed, crossing all four of his arms. “It stinks in here now, thanks to you.”
“You started it,” Vox retorted, smug and self-satisfied.
Val gaped in disbelief. “I started what?”
“At dinner,” he said simply, as though that explained anything.
“Are you that petty?” Val pressed incredulously. “I let you do whatever you want, un consentido, but this is how you act the one time I tell you your idea is garbage?”
“It wasn’t garbage,” Vox easily countered, unconvinced. “My vision would have been magnificent.” He fisted the blankets and pulled them up to his neck, readjusting to get cozier.
Before Val could argue further, Vox pushed out a fart loud enough to echo beneath the blanket cocoon surrounding them.
BRRRRT.
Both of them immediately groaned—Vox with relief, and Val with dread.
“Oh, thank fuck.”
“Vox!” He scolded, recoiling. The sheets grew noticeably warmer around their legs. “¡Qué cochino!”
“God, I needed that.” He seemed to melt into the mattress, any prior tension unwinding.
The smell of his fart spread through the bed quickly, potent and rotten. Valentino physically gagged. “Vox, that is fucking disgusting.”
Vox merely chuckled, hardly fazed. “I know.”
“I’m serious!”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” He sounded amused, and not the least bit repentant. “I can’t help that I have gas.”
“You could at least aim them outside the blankets!” Valentino flopped back down to his pillow, pushing the sheets off of himself. “It fucking reeks!”
Vox greedily accepted the extra covers, scooping them up in his warm nest. He hummed in thought, as though considering Val’s proposal. “…Too comfortable to move.” Another muffled yet rancid fart slipped out of him, his ass fidgeting slightly as he pushed.
Rrrrptptp.
He heaved a pleased sigh, his mouth twitching in a smile. “Feels so good to get out. You should really try it, Val.”
Valentino’s ire only rose with Vox’s insufferable goading. “Why the fuck would I want to stink up the bed before I sleep?” He coughed, uselessly waving the air with multiple arms. “¡Carajo! Why are they so terrible? What the Hell did you even eat?”
He hummed dreamily. “Chicken alfredo.” A short, wet burst of gas sputtered out into the blankets.
BRPFT.
“Ice cream, some chips and queso…” A longer, lower rumble droned out, sounding filthily moist at the squelching end.
Rrrrrpfptsptpt…
“Vox. Are you fucking shitting yourself?”
“No!” Vox desperately defended himself, finally harnessing some actual passion for the first time all night, albeit tinged with helpless giggles. “Obviously not! I just need to fart. Everybody does it.”
“Not like that,” Val grumbled bitterly, swatting the air by Vox’s ass where it was buried beneath the covers. “Mierda, your ass stinks.”
“Oh, don’t be such a prude,” Vox teased with an annoyingly affectionate chuckle. “I know you can make some gnarly farts too, Val. You don’t need to lie to me.”
“Me?” Val bowed up, insulted. “Oh, don’t try to drag me down with you. What do you think I am, un puerco?”
“Come on, Val.” Vox rolled over, finally flashing Val that wide, self-satisfied smirk. He propped up on his elbow, his eyes managing to strip Val naked. “I know you’ve got it in you. Everybody gets gas like that sometimes.”
For once, Val was rendered speechless—wound tight, flustered, and irritated. He had no real recourse for the outrageously offensive accusation.
Rather than ferment in the many unpleasantries, Val swung his legs off the edge of the bed with a huff. “You’re a dick, Vox.”
Val barely caught Vox’s face twisting behind him, real confusion suddenly flashing across his screen. “Val?”
“You’re trying so hard to make me miserable.” He relocated several feet away from the bed, arms wrapped tight around his silk pajamas. The fresh air was blissful.
Vox remained buried beneath the blankets. Two egregiously wide eyes blinked up at Val. “I’m not.” He only seemed halfway genuine. The other half unmistakably took great pleasure and comedy in working Val up.
“I’m not an idiot.” He rolled his eyes, antennae tucking back in displeasure. “You did this on purpose. You wanted me to get pissed.”
Vox gaped up at Val for several seconds, the gears in his head turning in real-time. He was probably brainstorming ways to remedy this. Good.
Valentino held his glare mercilessly, his lips curled in perpetual disgust.
At last, Vox’s guileless surprise twisted, his mouth pulling into a flirty sneer instead. He finally seemed to gain his footing. “...Are you pouting, Val?”
Valentino swiveled his head away, shoulders drawing up. “No.”
“Oh, Val,” he coaxed his name, his voice sultry and painfully domestic. “Come back to bed, honey. It’s getting cold without you.”
“Then just fart under the sheets again,” he immediately barked, bitterly. “That’ll warm you up.”
Vox was evidently taken aback, dissolving into a wonderful cackle. “Damn, you’re feeling spicy, huh?” The bed creaked, and in the corner of Val’s eye, he could see Vox climbing off.
Val turned fully away as Vox encroached nearer. He was not going to hand it over that easily.
After a beat, a soft embrace wrapped around Val’s back, pressing close behind. “Now, Val…”
A whine escaped Val despite himself, the intimacy of Vox’s touch almost too much to bear. “Why are you being so rude?”
“I’m sorry, dear,” he crooned, his face pressed against Val’s back, muffled into his wings. “Excuse me. Please. You know how I am.”
“A filthy man?”
Vox chuckled victoriously, pulling Val closer. He did not deny it. His crotch pressed deeper into Val’s ass, poignant even through their pajamas. “You like that about me.”
Val drew out a groan, pissy and irate with him. “I don’t like when you’re stinky.”
“Well, I usually smell wonderful.” To prove it, he carefully turned Val around. His screen was fully craned up to look him in the face, a sharp-toothed smile and half-lidded eyes cast up at him. “You know I take care of my hygiene.”
Valentino avoided staring too long, lest he give in too soon. “Sometimes.”
“All the time,” Vox corrected smoothly. He reached up to run a hand across the side of Val’s face, his claws grazing his cheek. “It’s the diet that gets me here.”
He begrudgingly relented, his mouth drawing into a terse line. “Well, fix it before you come to bed.”
“Fix it?” Vox plastered faux offense. “I thought you liked me the way I am.”
“I like you.” Val coyly reached a hand behind Vox, then spanked his little asscheeks. “Not your fumes.”
Vox physically jolted at the slap, his crotch grinding suddenly against Val. “Shit—” He growled, but recovered quickly, feigning charm once more. “Naughty brat.”
“Nasty man.”
Vox grinned at the banter, reveling in Val’s energy and attention. With predatory purpose, he led Val back to the bed. “Come back to bed, you idiot.”
Valentino allowed Vox to lead, still tense but granting him control for now. “Only if you stop farting on me.”
“On you?” Vox laughed, aghast, as he crawled over Val to get back to his spot. “We share a bed, Val. I do the best I can.”
“You contaminate the entire mattress with your disgusting farts,” he continued to reprimand, holding onto resentment.
Vox was far more entertained than bothered. He draped the covers back over Val, sharing them once more. He then laid down next to him. “Yeah, you know me. That’s what I’m here for.”
Valentino squeaked angrily, but cuddled back into the sheets. He had been getting a bit cold without Vox to nestle into.
Peace returned for all of a minute, before an ominous gurgle resounded from under the covers.
“...Was that your stomach?”
“Yeah,” Vox admitted, chuckling.
Val groaned dreadfully. “Please don’t fart…”
“I’m trying not to,” he promised bashfully. Val actually believed him. Vox squirmed around the bed a little, tight and strained as he clearly held it in.
“Try harder,” he practically begged.
Vox snorted a laugh, Val’s patent fear of his gas apparently hilarious to him. But the push from his abdomen proved catastrophic, and the withheld fart sputtered out of his ass against his control.
PRRFFFT.
“Oh, fuck!” Vox cackled, scrambling to sit up.
Valentino immediately clambered out of the bed again with a raucous curse. “¡Imbécil!”
“I didn’t mean to!” He swiped tears from his eyes, overcome with joy. “Val, come back, it was an accident!”
“¡Ay, maldito cabrón asqueroso!”