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Murderface felt like he had a lump of cotton stuck in his throat.
He was sitting propped up on pillows at the backboard of his bed. On his left leg sat Pickles, straddling it. They were both in their underwear, one of Pickles thighs pressing into the bigger man's crotch as he leaned against him, dirty-talking and running a hand closer and closer to his waistband.
They had been like this for what felt like ever. Murderface had wanted to do this, asked Pickles to indulge him in this even, but no matter how many alluring and devious things Pickles had said to him, Murderface was still getting cold feet
He didn't know how to feel. Murderface wanted to do this so badly, to be into what Pickles was putting out, to be touched and loved and made to feel good but half of him just screamed that this was wrong- that he shouldn't be doing this. That the sick feeling in his throat would only get worse the more Pickles kissed and caressed and promised him raunchy things.
Of course it didn’t take Pickles long to notice this too. At first he thought Murderface would warm up to his activities the longer they went on, but this was just getting downright pathetic at this point. Beneath him, Murderface’s brow was knit together, making it look like he was either uncomfortable or in deep concentration. A part of Pickles wondered if maybe Murderface was just trying really hard to imagine Pickles as some sexy groupie, but that probably wasn’t it. Murderface would probably be acting more like a dumbass if that was the case.
“Dood. do you even want to do this.” Pickles asked flatly, pausing his hands decent.
Murderface's face snapped out of its trance at Pickles' question.
“Wh- well yeah no schit I- duh- I jusch-” he cut himself off before he said anything that might incriminate himself as some lame-o who felt feelings.
Pickles studied Murderface as his eyes darted back and forth, painfully trying to avoid looking at Pickles. It was obvious that Murderface wasn’t completely comfortable or into this, but the reason behind it still hadn’t made itself clear to Pickles.
“Y’know if you wanna enjoy this you’re gonna have ta tell me if somethings wrong or if you want me to do something different. I can't read yer mind y’know.” Pickles put out.
Murderface didn’t say anything, instead opting to lay under Pickles like a dejected bag of sand, not meeting his eyes as he chewed on the inside of his lip. His eyebrows were knit together like he was mad at Pickles for stopping and calling him out on this, but the rest of his body language read awkward.
“Ya want me to ease up? Am I goin too fast?” Pickles asked again, shooting into the dark.
Murderface was quiet as Pickles stared at him seriously. Finally, his gaze glanced at Pickles for a millisecond before darting away again. Quietly, let out a barely audible “maybe.” before crossing his arms in front of his chest, apparently still intent on coming off as angry or aloof.
Fuckin finally Pickles thought- It was nice to have some direction for once. Pushing off of Murderface’s stomach, Pickles heaved himself off Murderface’s leg and flopped down next to him. Propping himself up on his elbow, Pickles looked Murderface over again.
“Ya doin ok dood?”
Murderfaces face pulled into a tough frown.
“...maybe.” he flatly answered again.
Pickles rolled his eyes to himself at the mans dramatics. He could be such a repressed emotional baby sometimes-- that didn’t stop the fact that Pickles loved him though.
“Y’know we don’t have to do this right?” Pickles asked blandly, waiting to gauge Murderface's response.
Almost immediately, Murderface had lost all semblance of embarrassment as he turned to Pickles wide eyed in disbelief
“But-! I- we should-!”
Pickles cracked a lopsided smirk.
“But you want to don’t you?”
Murderface’s face crinkled again and he looked away, annoyed that Pickles was able to easily work that response out of him. How gay. Pickles cracked another smile, now fully intending to heckle him about it.
“Wellllll?”
Murderface was silent, a light blush starting to dust his embarrassed face.
“I’m gunna need an actual response if you want me to keep goinnnn!”
“Fine. ……...............yesch I do.”
Pickles let his head fall to his arm as he un-propped himself up.
“C’mere then dood” he said, lifting his arm to make room for Murderface.
Murderface hesitated for a moment, but upon seeing Pickles' laid back smile, decided it was ok to wrap his arms around him and let himself sink into the smaller man's chest.
After some shuffling, the two were comfortably cuddled together- Murderface tucked into Pickles shoulder, and Pickles with a hand on his waist and another comfortably twined in his hair.
They laid like that for a while, Pickles slowly letting Murderface get comfortable and adjust to the change in pace. Occasionally Pickles would let his hand drift up and down Murderface's side, grazing over and admiring his fat rolls.
It definitely made for a stark contrast from their situation before. Though still quiet, Murderface was definitely more relaxed. Pickles was glad for that- it wasn’t often that they got a break in their usual dumbassery. Sure, they were ambiguously ‘a thing’ (no matter how much Murderface had tried to deny his homosexuality), but the amount of times they actually got to relax and enjoy each other in a serious way was few and far between- the two mostly opted for making themselves nuisances to one another, plus some gay shit in between . The quiet tenderness between them felt odd, though not unwanted. Pickles wasn’t quite used to it in general- most relationships he cultivated were just quick passion flings. It made Pickles appreciate their time together even more.
Unhinging his chin from its place on top of Murderface's head, Pickles pressed their foreheads together then brushed his lips down to Murderface's cheek.
“Kiss?” he asked quietly, waiting for Murderface to turn his head and catch his lips.
Feeling comfortable enough, Murderface indulged and the two of them shared a soft kiss. When they broke, Pickles returned to Murderface's cheek and started planting gentle kisses up and down his face.
It was nice, Murderface decided. The feeling of embarrassment at their intimacy had not completely dissipated, but the discomfort from before had (thankfully) been replaced with a warm feeling of ease. He let his hand slowly start to thumb circles into Pickles' back as he pressed his face back into the crook of his neck. Between the butterfly kisses Pickles was handing out, the redhead had been mumbling half-intelligible sweet nothings into Murderfaces' chin. Now, as Murderface rearranged himself, Pickles started a line of kisses from his neck to his ear and Murderface caught a very distinct ‘I love you’ babbled in between the kisses.
Not really thinking much of it, Pickles continued to bill and coo as Murderface's grip grew a bit tighter on the smaller man. He was about to plant another kiss to Murderface's forehead when he felt a warm drop of water on his shoulder. It took a few moments for realization to kick in.
“..dood!?” Pickles grabbed Murderface by the arms and pulled him out so he could see his face.
Yep. Murderface was crying.
“Dood.” Pickles said again, voice and face growing concerned at murderfaces sudden change in behavior.
Murderface quickly took his arm from Pickles so he could wipe it across his eyes, apparently thinking he might still be able to hide his tears.
“Itsch- I- itsch nothing- schut- schut up-” he tried to start
“Hey, hey, seriously,” Pickles held Murderface out, gazing into his face with worry as the other man's composure started to crumble even more “seriously, what's wrong, tell me.”
Murderface clamped his jaw shut and sat silently sniffling.
“C’mon please.”
Murderface took a moment before gulping and starting again
“Itsch juscht- you- schaid-” Murderface paused to snort up whatever snot was trying to escape his nose, “schaid you like- schaid you loved me or- schtuff-”
Pickles felt his expression start to melt.
There were way too many emotions that that made him feel.
“Dood. of course I love you.” Pickles voice was dripping with sincerity as he pulled Murderface back into his chest to let the man sob there.
“The hell do you think I'm doin this for if not that?” Pickles let himself chuckle out, trying to disguise that his voice was obviously laden with emotions. “Course I love ya..”
Pickles wrapped his arms back around Murderface and began to rub his back, propping his chin up over the bigger man's shoulder and continuing to mumble to him.
“Seriously were ya just thinkin I'm doin this out of pity?” he chuckled again “Jesus dood, I love you and you’re sexy as shit, I would do this in a heartbeat any time you asked.”
“You’re just schaying that.. I’m not schexy..” Murderface mumbled out, a blush starting to form.
Pickles immediately held Murderface out again, staring at him seriously.
“Dood. I’m being serious. I think you’re drop dead sexy, handsome, attractive, whatever you wanna call it- I always have. ”
Murderface was quiet for a moment, face getting redder as he grew more embarrassed at Pickles words.
“....................what…….what do you think isch schexy…?” Murderface eventually quietly asked, obviously vying for a complement.
Pickles cracked a crooked smile, knowing that he may have hit on something that could make Murderface lighten up. Pulling Murderface back in, he started his 95 theses.
“Well,” Pickles started as he placed a hand on one of the fat rolls on Murderface’s gut, “this for starters- I think it’s the hottest part about you, no joke. I have ta stop myself from being too obviously into it anytime we make out. I also love your gap tooth and I think your lisp is sexy. I love your hairy ass chest- I love your hairy ass too-” he paused to smile goofily at the still apprehensive Murderface before continuing,
“I never want you to change your mustache and your dumb greasy hair. And I wish I could hold your lovehandles forever and kiss your stubble every time I see you. I love your gross habits and your dumb calloused dick and-”
Murderface snorted at that one.
“And y’know what?” Pickles started, obviously running with the dick thoughts, “When you first started doin’ bass solos I thought it was the hottest thing ever- seriously, I was so glad there were drums in front of me because if not everyone would have totally seen my-”
“Ok ok jeesche homo, I get it you’re gay.” Murderface cut him off, embarrassed but obviously a little amused.
Pickles grinned, glad Murderface was feeling good enough to call him a homo.
“And you know what?” Pickles asked again, pressing his lips back to Murderface's cheek, “most of all, I especially love you. You’re like, stupid important to me.”
Murderface balled up a hand and lightly hit Pickles shoulder at that one, chastising him for making him feel sappy emotions.
“Whatever, you're just schum dumb homo..” Murderface said, forehead still tucked into Pickles chest.
He didn’t sound very upset anymore, more just trying to seem strong and unaffected by Pickles heartfelt words. He sniffed one final sniff before pulling himself out of the crook of Pickles neck and looking at him.
The mans eyes were a touch red tinted and under his nose was slick with snot. He had a scowl on his face that just read ‘how dare you make me feel soft emotions’ and a faint redness to his face that told Pickles his words had made a mark. Pickles was certain that this wasn’t the ending Murderface had intended when he had first posited that they should have sex. He just looked like a guy who had the worst not-sex ever in his life.
“Thanksch I guess… or whatever. ……..homo.” Murderface said with as much sincerity he would allow himself
A soft smile spread across Pickles face as he placed his hand back on Murderface's hips
“Yeah you’re welcome. Now kiss me you handsome crybaby then lets do some gay shit”
Murderface pulled Pickles in and obliged.