05.2
tw alcohol, sexual content, stupid young adults being stupid young adults, eating issues, maybe skip the first couple paragraphs if you're younger than 15 or 16
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Benji falls back onto the sofa, skin dewy and flushed bright red. “Goddamn, I thought you said you were bad at that.” His voice is a bit on the hoarse side.
Caesar snorts. “I think you soaked my shirt,” he says with a light chuckle as he tugs it off. “Got a spare?”
“Mm, yeah, hold up. Want something to drink?” Benji stands, grabbing his boxers from the coffee table and slipping them back on. “I got whiskey and some hard lemonade.”
Caesar’s already sipping at the water bottle from a little while ago when Benji asks this. “Uh, up to you. I don’t mind either way.”
Benji nods and heads off to what Caesar assumes to be his room. That was… Not as bad as he thought it would be. Sure, Benji complained more than once, but he most definitely got off, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?
Caesar’s stretched out on the sofa and clinging to a hideous bright blue decorative pillow when Benji flings an old T-shirt at him. “Keep it,” he says from the kitchen, “haven’t worn it since I had tits.”
...Understandable. It’s got a boob window smack in the middle of the chest. Caesar has to hold back laughter as he slips it on. “Thanks, man. I’ll cherish it.”
Benji laughs, returning with a case of hard lemonade. “You damn well better. I loved that thing,” he jokes as he plops down. “You a cuddler?”
“Yeah, what the hell.” Caesar takes a bottle-- thank god it’s a twist-to-open, else he would have very much embarrassed himself right there.
Benji grins, scooting closer and resting his head against Caesar’s shoulder. “You’re a fun guy.”
Caesar snorts. “I’m glad you think so.” He moves the bottle to his right hand and wraps his left arm around Benji, pulling him a little closer.
Benji rolls his eyes and goes to press a kiss to Caesar’s jaw. “I know so. Mm, hey-- not to kill the just-started-cuddling vibe, but did you have dinner? I can order us some Chinese if you want.”
Ah, and there’s the familiar stomach lurch that comes with the mention of food. Caesar presses his lips together and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I already ate,” he lies.
“Mmmmmmalright. But I’m cookin’ you a fuckin’ feast for breakfast,” Benji coos. He takes a bottle for himself, managing even to open the thing in an extra dramatic manner by leaning over and smacking it against the coffee table. Great way to break a bottle, but Benji doesn’t seem to care, knocking back a good quarter of it before leaning back into Caesar.
Caesar rolls his eyes. “That’s fine, I’ll grab some McDonald’s on my way home.” Yeah, and then you’ll cry about it afterwards.
Benji gasps, scandalized. “Over my cooking? I’m offended!” he says in mock offence, bringing a hand to his chest.
“I’d feel bad if you cooked for me.”
Benji huffs. “You drive a hard bargain…” And then he seemingly lights up, shooting straight up and bringing his hands to the side of his head. “Caesar. Do you have tattoos.”
“Uh.” Caesar stares for a moment, lips parted. “No?”
Benji gasps again. “Okay. Fuck you. Free tattoo time now.” And he’s off the sofa, flying back towards his room. Oh no.
Caesar’s still processing what he’s said when Benji comes back with an actual fucking tattoo gun in one hand and a box full of miscellaneous supplies in the other. Oh, so that’s how he’s loaded enough to have such a big and… bright apartment with so goddamn many blankets and pillows.
Caesar stares wide-eyed as Benji plops back down and orders the weird AI in the corner to brighten the lights. “Whaddya want?” he says as he falls back onto the couch and gets into the box of goodies.
“Um.” There’s a long and somewhat awkward pause as Benji pulls on a fresh pair of latex gloves and wets a rag with some cleaning solution. “I’ve never really thought about that before, uh…” Another pause. “...Maybe a lighter? One of those boxy ones that’ll stay on? Uh, here.” Caesar whips out his phone and does a quick Google search before showing Benji a zippo lighter.
“Oh, hell yeah. Open? Lit?”
“Both.” Only a little bit hesitant. “Right here?” Caesar taps a spot on his inner forearm.
“I can do that.” With a grin, Benji finishes his setup. “If ’ya don’t like it after, like, a year, I’ll do a free coverup. Make me sign something with that in the morning.”
Caesar gives a huff of laughter and gives his left arm to Benji’s open hand. “Sure thing.”
“Hell yeah. Hope you’re ready, this might hurt a bit.”