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A blanket of snow covered the ground, making Quentin’s pant legs wet as he stumbled inside Ormond Lodge. He’d hoped to find supplies when he went out into the fog but now all he wanted was a warm blanket and a fire to curl up next to.
How he ended up there was hazy, along with just about everything that happened in the Entity’s realm. The longer he stayed awake, the more dreamlike things began to feel. How had he ended up in a version of Ormond without generators, killers, or hooks? He didn’t know and he was too tired to care.
He stumbled inside the lodge, relieved to at least be out of the frigid wind. Snow fell through the roof of the large building and many of the windows were busted open, but there was at least a decent fire pit in the center of the room to keep things bearable.
His eyes glanced around the room and up to the balcony, checking for movement. He knew he wasn’t in a trial but that didn’t mean he was safe. Killers often lingered around their realms, territorial of what little they were given by the Entity. Snow fell over the room. Only the crackling fire could be heard over the howling wind.
When he felt sure enough that Legion wasn’t around, he let himself relax a bit. Perhaps they were in a trial or messing around with some other killer. Either way, he had just enough time to search for supplies and get out of there.
While the others wanted supplies that helped during trials, Quentin had his goals set on other things. He didn’t want toolboxes or flashlights. He needed something to entertain him when the trials were over. Something to make life worth living.
He started opening cabinets, checking for anything that could be useful. There were a few dishes here and there; empty boxes of cereal that the teens had never cleaned out; and rat dropping spawned by the Entity and it’s odd attention to detail.
Just when he was about to give up, he spotted a bright red container way at the back of a shelf. In curly white letters, a man’s name hovered over a picture of a hot, brown liquid in a mug. Coffee.
Quentin swiped the container again, prying open the plastic lid as if his life depended on it. Instantly, the smell of stale coffee filled his nose. Tears welled up in his eyes. Years ago he hated coffee but now the idea of something so normal, so human, made his heart ache. It reminded him of all those mornings before school, when his dad would make a pot of coffee before work.
It didn’t take long to get the coffee back to the camp. He kept it stuffed in his backpack and waited patiently for the rare moment he’d be left alone by the campfire. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a dozen or so people trying to drink the first coffee they’d seen in years.
One day it did happen. Long afterward, just when Quentin almost forgot about his secret stash, he got a rare moment alone in the camp. As soon as the last survivor left him alone, he dipped his mug out of the bag and into a nearby pond.
As the water boiled in the porcelain cup, he looked over its shiny surface. It wasn’t anything fancy, just white with a black silhouette of a mountain on the side. Two black semi-circles were on either side, which Quentin assumed was some abstract version of birds.
Still, something appealed to him about it; simple designs had character. They were more eyecatching than something that had too much going on.
He poured the grounds in, watching with eager eyes as color dispersed through the water. It had been actual weeks since he last slept, and with this new magic weapon, he could make it months before Krueger touched him.
He cupped the coffee in his hands and enjoyed the warmth spreading through his palm and fingers. Before he can take a sip, however, he hears a voice.
“What’s a handsome boy like you doing in a place like this,” a deep, smooth voice says below him.
He glanced around the camp, assuming the attractive must have come from someone like Ace, lurking around in the shadows trying to get at his coffee. “Down here,” the voice said as if knowing Quentin’s confusion. There, in his hands, the coffee cup stared up at him. Where there once was birds were now open, glossy eyes. A white line formed a smug smile within the mountain. “That’s right. It’s me, Fapachino at your service.”
Quentin’s eyes widened and, if he hadn’t a good grip on the young mug’s thick, sturdy handle, he might have dropped the poor thing. “I must be going crazy,” he gasped, his voice shaking.
“I don’t think you’re crazy, but brew sure do look despresso’d,” he said, shooting a warm smile up at Quentin. “Why don’t we chat for a while, talk about what’s bothering a cute face like yours.”
It didn’t escape Quentin that the moment this coffee cup woke up, it started to hit on him. A part of him was afraid that this was a trick of Kruegers. Yet one look into those dark, porcelain eyes, and he simply couldn’t bring himself to distrust the mug.
“W-what do you want to know?” Quentin asked, still blushing from the flirts he received.
“Well, why’s a cutie like you trying not to sleep?” Fapachino asked.
Quentin thought about the way Freddy tortured him every time he closed his eyes. It wasn’t his nature to spill his guts to people -- didn’t want to be an emotional burden -- so he thought of the easiest way to put it. “I have a lot of nightmares…”
“About what?” Fapachino seemed so sincere, like he was actually interested. “Come on. You can talk to me.”
Quentin started talking about the trials, the nightmare, and even about his life before everything went to shit. Fap’s voice was so soft and soothing, he just couldn’t help but be encouraged by the nice cup of coffee.
“It seems to me that you’re reaching your boiling point, Quentin,” Fap said after a while. “You need to release some of those pent up emotions or you’ll over-brew.”
“You’re… the first person that has cared about what I’m going through,” Quentin said, his eyes watering. The others only cared about surviving and blaming each other. He’d told Fap about all the times they’d yelled at him over a small, but deadly, mistake he’d made while being sleepy in a trial.
“First mug,” Fap correct. “Forget all those jerks. They’re all froth and no substance. Look, I know we haven’t known each other for long but I feel a connection with you. I want to help you, Quentin,” he said, looking up into Quentin’s soft eyes.
As much as Quentin didn’t want to admit it, he felt that connection too. He never thought he’d feel romance towards someone again, let alone a cup of coffee.
“I’ve never felt like this toward anyone. It’s frightening,” Quentin finally admitted.
“You’re scared I’ll hurt you like the others,” Fap said, all too understanding of Quentin’s anxiety. “But it’s okay. Studies observe that people who drink the most coffee have a 23–50% lower risk of getting type 2 diabetes. Coffee also protects you from Alzheimer’s and Dementia. Studies have also shown that coffee drinkers have up to a 40% lower risk of liver cancer. See? I’d never hurt you. I just want to protect you.”
Quentin’s eyes widen as he listens to the facts. It all made sense to him; Coffee really was a healthy alternative to the drugs and energy drinks he’d been using before. They were just using his body and hurting it, but it didn’t have to be like that anymore. He had Fap now.
His fingers caressed against the mug’s smooth glass. “I’m so glad I met you. I don’t think I’d ever be the same without you,” Quentin whispered. “I… I love you Fap.”
“I love you too,” Fap said, his voice warm and pleasant.
In an instant, their lips crashed together. Well, it was really just Quentin smooshing his lips onto the flat surface of the mountain silhouette, but Fap moaned in pleasure so he must have been doing something right. Quentin craved everything about the mug: it’s warmth, it’s simple style, it’s earthy smell.
“Quentin, I… I want you,” Fap said.
“I’m yours,” Quentin gasped, breaking away from the kiss. He stared deep down into the mug’s eyes, knowing he’d found his soulmate.
“No, I mean I want you inside me,” Fap said and, if a mug could blush, he would have. Instead, Quentin felt the mug in his hands flush with heat. “I can’t resist you anymore. I need you inside me, please.”
It had been so long since Quentin felt safe enough to have sex with someone after all the shit Freddy had done. With Fap, though, it was different. It felt like they’d known each other forever, even if it had literally only been 13 minutes.
“Okay,” Quentin said with hesitation. “But if you want me to stop, you just tell me. I want to make sure you’re comfortable too.” He caressed Fap’s mountain-clad face one last time before setting him on the ground.
The mug looked up with eager eyes as Quentin yanked off his clothes and began stroking his small, soft dick. Each pump made it expand, growing into an admirable 9 inches. Fap’s mouth watered at the thought of being stuffed so fully with the boy’s robust seed.
“Let’s turn this cup of joe into a latte,” Fap purred, his coffee sloshing about eagerly in the glass mug. Quentin leaned over the entrance, caressing his dick over the rim to tease Fap.
“You want this?” Quentin asked, taking a moment to rub the tip of his dick against the mug’s white lip line.
“Please,” Fap begged, unable to stop himself. “Fill me up with you frothy milk!”
That was all the encouraging Quentin needed. With one firm hand placed beneath the handle, he dipped his dick down into the warm coffee. He gasped, not only at the warmth that encompassed his head and shaft but at the way the liquid seemed to caress his needy cock. It bubbled around him, creating a texture he thought impossible of a mere liquid. “Oh, god yes,” Quentin moaned.
Coffee splashed against his balls and down his thighs with ungodly sloshing noises, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He pumped into his coffee lover, brows pinching together from the welling ecstasy.
“Drench this americano with your sugar cum~!” Fap cried out as Quentin jutted deep within him. Each time it begged to be used by Quentin, a shiver of pleasure shot up his spine. He’d never considered himself dominate before, but his coffee soul mate really woke up something in him.
“I love you. I think you’re my soulmate!” Quentin cried out as he got closer to climax.
“Quentin, I’m not just your soulmate, I’m your coffeemate! Now I wanna get inside your dickhole and make you cum coffee!” Fap cried out as intense bubbles vibrated around Quentin’s cock.
With one final cry, intense pumps of jizz filled the cup whole, replaced the coffee that had sloshed all over Quentin’s naked thighs. Fap guzzled it down, letting it mix with his coffee body until it turned into a creamy color.
As Quentin slipped out the mug, his bare ass landing on the dry leaves that cluttered the ground, Fap looked up at him lovingly. “Did you really mean what you said back there?” The coffee asked.
“Every word of it,” Quentin said with a big grin.
“I know this is soon, but I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Fap says after a moment of deliberation.
Quentin’s heart panged as he thought about how long that might possibly be. “We don’t have much time left, do we,” he asked, already noticing how cold Fap had gotten. Would his lover be torn away from him so soon?
“Under normal circumstances, no. The average cup of coffee only lives a few hours,” Fap said, but he didn’t sound sad. Quentin cocked his head, curious what his coffeemate had in mind. “Now that I’ve been properly creamed, you can drink me. I could live inside you forever and make you feel as good as you made me feel.”
Quentin wiped a few tears from his eyes. “You’d do that for me?” He said, running a hand over the mug’s sturdy handle.
“I’d do anything for you, love,” Fap promised. “Will you do me the honor of drinking me?”
Quentin thought for only a second. He knew he wanted to spend forever with Fap. “Of course!” He cried out, pulling the mug close and kissing it deeply. He tried to slip his tongue into the coffee’s mouth, but since it couldn’t open he ended up rubbing it all over the surface of the porcelain.
When they parted, Quentin gave one last longing look into his coffeemate’s eyes. Soon they would be together forever. He put the rim of the mug to his lips and deeply inhaled. The smell of coffee and sex mingled in his senses, overwhelming him in the best ways. Then, he gulped down the jizz and Columbian blend concoction.