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Morning broke across the city. The sun slowly and lazily drifted up between skyscrapers like it wasn't certain if it should rise at all. Though Piltover never slept, traffic was noticeably light. Sluggish – like the masses were unaware that the day had started.
And in this now drowsy city laid a questionable apartment, one specially chosen such that police wouldn't bother responding to 'explosive' noise complaints, one that had managed to drive out every other tenant on the floor with the ungodly decibel its occupants reached on a daily basis. And yet, even this place was calm and silent this morning.
For now, at least.
Through the front door, one would forget they had entered a residence – their minds flashing towards 'garage' or 'garbage dump.' Mechanical parts littered every, every surface. The kitchen was less a place to make food as it was one to store their remains. Week-old takeout containers sat stacked beside the sink, some licked clean of their contents, and others festered enough mold that patches of fungi nearly resembled the shriveled, half-eaten vegetables within.
Those containers, plus juice in the fridge and enough energy-drinks to give a herd of elephants heart-attacks, were the only signs that the kitchen was a kitchen at all. Gears, sprockets, and toolboxes littered the floor, piled so high amongst one another that a venture in the darkness would undoubtedly stub each and every one of the residents' twelve total toes. The counters were no better – splayed with the decrepit remains of a toaster disassembled for its latch release and a blender dissected for its engine.
Stools and ladders dotted every clear section of the kitchen floor. Without them, the apartment's tiny owners wouldn't have reached the cabinets above, even if they scrambled upon each other's shoulders. But even so, a quick check within revealed a disaster comparable to the rest. Delving a hand into the cookie jar yielded nothing but bolts. The sugar within the sugar jar tasted an awful lot like gunpowder, and any dishes seemed to play a dual role in catching oil drips.
The apartment's small dining room fared no better – less a place for 'dining' and more a place of 'tinkering.' Schematics and blueprints replaced an actual tablecloth, screwdrivers and wrenches stood in for utensils, and half-finished projects lined the table like a full-course meal. A few meager steps transitioned dining into living room. Or, at least, that's what it was called on paper. To actually do any living, one would first have to peel away layers of grease-stained, singed clothes to even find a proper seat on the couch. In the occupants' defense, they would use the washer and dryer were they not mid-conversion into battle-bots.
But the central features, the ones that wrapped this industrial-grade mess all up into a proper home, laid snoozing in the apartment's sole bedroom. Given the weekend, their alarm had been unplugged and sat in a coil of wires atop the nightstand as daylight flowed through open blinds.
Rumble woke slowly, dreary eyes blinking hesitantly as sunlight poured across him. It took a moment, but once the yordle realized that sleep wouldn't take hold again, he succumbed to the tragedy of waking before noon on the weekend. After coming to terms with that, Rumble found himself otherwise trapped. Before him, as his cleared vision finally provided, was a broad expanse of two rising and falling brown mounds, ones that held the blue yordle's muzzle captive in a mass of brown fluff nestled between.
Those mounds rose and fell with a steady rhythm, one accented by soft snores directly into Rumble's ear. Wriggling his slim form, Rumble found himself caged in by two thick and sturdy forearms, ones toughened by their role as heavy-lifters between the pair. But this was nothing new.
The attempt to free himself of those arms failed; instead, the little yordle found himself pulled in even tighter, the serial-cuddler refusing to let him go. Rumble rolled his eyes, "I thought you wanted donuts today. Gotta let me go if you want 'em."
Ziggs grumbled, shifting down to drowsily nibble and nuzzle into the fur atop his bedfellow's precious little head.
"What? Do I taste like donuts?" Rumble asked as Ziggs held him even tighter, sinking into the soft, brown belly that suggested his partner already had one donut too many. "Stop grazing on my head."
The brown bag of floof groaned, weighing his options as carefully as a groggy, oversized poro possibly could. Ziggs' answer, evidently, was to tighten his hold on Rumble, bringing him in closer until blue fur nearly disappeared among the brown. "Ten more minutes," Ziggs muttered into the other, nestling his nose deep into Rumble's coat. "Or twenty. Thirty. An Hour? Better make it a day."
"Okay, big guy," Rumble wheezed, "not a body pillow – still need air!" Though he wriggled and squirmed, the smaller yordle only managed to free an arm from the lung-crushing affection. But that was more than enough; creeping a hand up Ziggs' flank, Rumble made his way to the spine-snapper's fuzzy pit. Shifting through the fur, Rumble pressed his fingertips against the tender flesh of Ziggs' underarm. Stroking and tickling the sensitive skin, Rumble felt firsthand as Ziggs' muscles shifted and twitched, his deep breath huffing as the larger yordle struggled not to squirm.
It was for naught, of course, as the ticklish yordle quickly reached his limit. Stifling his laughter, Ziggs rolled onto the far side of the bed, taking a teasing pout of 'cheater' along with him.
"I don't see a referee, big guy," Rumble sat on the bed's edge and stretched, wriggling his clawed toes in the carpet as his spine offered a satisfying 'pop.' Pausing to scratch himself, Rumble took a glance to check the time. "Crap, unplugged the clock!" Rumple yelped as he was pulled back into the mattress.
Ziggs, ever the sly yordle, had crawled up behind his partner before wrangling him back into the sheets. "No ref?" He questioned, quickly crawling atop and pinning the other beneath hefty bulk. Taking two blue wrists into his palms, Ziggs forced them down into the linen. "So then," he breathed, the tone rolling low and suggestively through his chest, "I can throw in some illegal moves, right?"
Rumble coughed under the pressure, Ziggs' thick gut weighing down on his slim tum, brawny pectorals pressing right down on his lungs. And yet, despite being hopelessly forced into the mattress by the self-proclaimed 'muscle' of their partnership, he cracked a smirk. "Oh? Are you gonna put me in a Bridge? Do a Standing Reverse-Waist Hold? What about a Reverse Leg Ride?"
"I don't know what any of those things are," Ziggs laughed, lowering himself even further, nudging Rumble's head to the side so he could nibble and kiss at that soft, blue neck. "But damn if wrestling doesn't sound dirty."
"That's cuz it is." Though he would deny it, there was a slight, minuscule, completely improbable chance that Rumble mewed at the loving attention Ziggs paid to his neck. "Wrestling's just sex with a singlet – probably some sport two ancient gay guys came up with when they got caught."
"Well," Ziggs mused as he gave Rumble a long swipe with his tongue, then a pert kiss on those tender, little lips. At the same moment, the bigger yordle let something equally as impressive rest on the other's thigh, something constrained in a pair of tight blue boxers that grew tighter as he tasted his mate. "Can't let traditions die, can we?"
Rumble lifted his leg just a smidge, shifting it side-to-side, giving Ziggs' package a teasing rub with his thigh. "I dunno," he shrugged, feeling 'little-Ziggy' wobble and twitch, taking deep pleasure in feeling Ziggs squirm above him. "They ran around naked and drunk too – where do we draw the line?"
"W-well," Ziggs stuttered, his underwear growing unbearably tight as Rumble played with his package. "We got enough Red-Poro in the fridge to discover a new color," he rolled his hips, letting the smaller yordle feel exactly what he was doing to him, "and I'd dance naked to the donut store if it gets those boxers off ya."
"Would you grab me a cream-filled glazed?" Rumble asked, craning his neck to sneak a kiss.
"Oh, babe," Ziggs moaned into Rumble's lips, parting his own allow to let the smaller yordle, letting that little tongue rub and taste his. "You're makin' this too easy," Ziggs finally released those slim wrists, focusing instead on massaging his mate's sides, feeling skin prickle and goosebump beneath the fur. Sliding even lower, Ziggs hooked his fingers around the waistband of Rumble's boxers, slowly peeling them free from his partner's hips. "But I'd better cream-fill and glaze ya before I go," Ziggs purred, "you know, so I don't forget."
"Pfft – fuckin' nerd." Still, Rumble didn't protest the idea, instead choosing to wrap his arms around Ziggs' torso. Holding the two chest to chest, Ziggs slowly slid Rumble's boxers off, his member finally popping free from the fabric and jabbing into a brown belly.
Ziggs took a moment to rise off his partner, kneeling on the mattress as he pulled the offending garment down thin thighs, over nimble knees, and finally past tender toes. Balling it in hand, Ziggs wasted no time tossing it over his shoulder. "Yea, I'm definitely a nerd," Ziggs hooked his thumbs around his waistband, edging it down ever so slightly to peek the thick base of a proudly-standing pole into view, "but it ain't gonna matter when I plow ya like a jock."
Rumble laughed, a typical response since he moved in with the brown yordle. He reached down his slim stomach to grasp his member, as hard and needy as the one trapped in Ziggs' boxers. Curling his digits around the shaft, Rumble slowly stroked the hard-blue length, ghosting his fingertips across delicate, spidering veins. Soft, supple skin bunched and rolled under his touch, burning flesh on full display for the yordle above. As his breathing hitched, Rumble toyed with the cherry-red head, squeezing and pinching it between a thumb and forefinger. Offering Ziggs a grin, a single, milky drip pearled from his tip like a precious stone.
Ziggs kneeled, frozen – evidently having forgotten how to breathe. Suddenly, he stood. "Okay, fuck the foreplay," he couldn't rip off his boxers fast enough, his meaty cock bobbing as he tore them free.
The blue yordle below hardly had a moment to appreciate the sight of 'lil Ziggy' before its owner was upon him. He was a little runt, which made Rumble all the easier to manhandle. Arms nearly twice as thick as his own wrapped around his frame, carrying him along as Ziggs rolled over onto his back. Perched on his sweetheart's belly, their eager manhoods pressed together between a thin and plump gut, he found himself at the mercy of two feverish, calloused hands.
Gone was his prior tenderness – Ziggs buried his fingers deep into Rumble's back, twisting and gripping the fur between hungry digits as he pulled the other into himself. A surprised gasp was quickly silenced by the brown yordle's tongue. Slick muscle spilled into Rumble's mouth, plundering his breath with a burning need.
Rumble repaid the favor in kind; his own hand glided through fur, pressing down through soft pudge into the firm brawn beneath. Sliding up to his mate's chest, he gave the beefy muscle a healthy grope before taking a tender nipple between his fingers. Rolling, pinching, and squeezing the sensitive little nub earned him a low, satisfying moan.
"Mmh, you know how I'm wired," Ziggs breathed into his partner, grinding his hips up into Rumble's member and growling when he felt a dribble of something hot and thick leak onto his belly. Was it his? Rumble's? More importantly, who the hell cared? "Tell me what ya want, babe," Ziggs reached lower, taking a generous handful of Rumble's ass in hand, "Ask 'lil Ziggy' – he's a stand-up guy."
"Ask?" Rumble taunted, slipping his hand between their bellies, gripping and stroking their aching members. Crawling up just the slightest, looping Ziggs' earing in his other hand, the blue bruiser pulled that fluffy, brown ear ever-so closer. "I got promised a cream-filled glazed," he gave the golden ring a tug. "So you better deliver, chubs."
"Speaking of chub," Ziggs flexed his rod, searing skin twitching against blue belly, "any harder and I'll be cuttin' diamonds." Then, bracing himself with an arm, the burly yordle slowly sat up atop the mattress, gently easing his sweetheart down to take a seat on his lap. He never once breaking the euphoric sensation of Rumble's cock pressed tight against his own. Taking both in hand, Ziggs slowly stroked the sensitive shafts, pleasure purring in his chest as blue and brown disappeared into his palm. "I promise, bud, this'll be a blast."
…
"You ruined it," Rumble groaned, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly tumbled from his head. "You could've talked about fucking Teemo, and it would've been hotter."
Ziggs laughed. "Don't worry," guiding Rumble's legs to wrap around his hips, he never dropped that insufferable grin, "…I got this."
"Don't you dare."
"Come on, impatient? I'm not impatient."
"I'm warning you," Rumble jabbed at the bulky chest across their laps, his scowl wavering as the hand on his dick hastened its stroke.
"Alright, alright, I hear ya loud 'n clear," he leaned in for another peck, a quick nuzzle. Wrapping his arm around the other's back, Ziggs idly stroked soft fur, his hand slowly snaking lower along the spine before arriving at two gently sloping curves. He gave one a loving pat, a gentle squeeze, and a muttered promise of "I'mma fire in your hole," before inquisitive fingers delved into the crevasse between.
"Jackass," Rumble hissed but didn't object in the slightest as fingers probed where the sun didn't shine. He jumped when one slid across the back door, as a dull claw gingerly circled the delicate ring of muscle and teased the sensitive flesh. "Just do it."
Flashing the most appreciative smile in his arsenal, Ziggs did precisely that, pressing a single digit into Rumble's heated depths. Cautiously, he pushed forward to the first knuckle, then the second. I'd been a while – Rumble clenched tight around the finger as it lovingly stroked, tenderly moving back and forth, in and out, careful for the slightest sign of discomfort.
Rumble reached forward, resting his forehead on Ziggs' chest as blush flushed across his muzzle. His hands twisted themselves in the sheets, teeth biting down on a trembling lip if only to stop a mew bubbling from his throat. There was pain, though only a little. It was the strain that came from stretching a muscle that long sat idle.
More than that, however, was pleasure.
Chuckling, burying his nose into the long, soft fur atop Rumble's head, Ziggs slid his entire finger inside. "Come on, bud," he joked, stroking spots that sent shivers up the spine, feeling beads of something slick drip onto his other, stroking hand. "When was the last time you got your oil checked?"
"When your dad came knocking," Rumble shot back, clenching his eyes as Ziggs so lovingly caressed a sensitive little bundle of nerves. "Just... don't stop…what you're doing."
"For sure," he promised, delighting in the heated breath that ghosted across his chest as he pressed down on that sweet, little sensation button. Releasing his grasp on their members, the brown yordle pulled his partner closer, reaching around to spread those cheeks even wider. Taking a second finger, he tenderly teased at the rim, poking and easing it in until it joined the first.
Sweat broke across Rumble's brow. His hands jerked from the sheets at the second finger, arms wrapping around firm shoulders and holding tight. "That feels…" the sentence went unfinished, yet the implied 'good' lingered in the air. Were his mind not muddled, Rumble would curse how easily two measly fingers turned him into putty. But in his defense, as he reassured himself, Ziggs was an honorary proctologist when it came to his ass.
His smile never faltered – in fact, at the delectable sounds his little mate made, Ziggs managed to beam even brighter. "Eager for a filling, Mr. Donut?" he bucked his hips, tight brown sack shifting between his thighs, "Just a sec – almost done whipping up the cream." As he laughed at his own terrible joke, those two fingers wriggled in as deep as they could reach. Only a moment to adjust was spared before they slowly spread apart, massaging the tense hole loose.
But patience was dwindling for the blue yordle. As those magic fingers worked him open - as they caressed, rubbed, fondled, pinched, and stretched precious parts he'd forgotten he had - he could feel his stamina waning. Cracking an eye revealed his throbbing member, slick with dribbling pre as he failed to keep the tingle in his crotch at bay. "Z-iggs," he tapped out on the other's back.
He quirked an ear, golden earing jingling as fingers slid free from the thoroughly stretched hole. "Right, gotcha!" the excitable yordle cheered. Deciding he didn't want to just toss Rumble aside, Ziggs held on tight and scooted the pair across the mattress – he needed one more piece to perfect this puzzle. Once his legs were over the side, toes wriggling in the carpet below, Ziggs hooked his hands around Rumble's thighs and stood. Waddling over to the dresser, he pulled open a single drawer and snatched a small, milky bottle from its depths before returning to the mattress. "Gotta butter ya up first."
Rumble's nose curled when the lid popped – the lube, odorless to humans, smelled rich and overripe to the superior yordle nose, and not in a good way. But there wasn't a single protest when Ziggs poured a heaping helping onto his fingers, nor when those fingers returned to his hole, pumping and smearing the lukewarm slick across tender insides. They'd need it for what was just around the corner.
Ziggs was sure to force his fingers as deep as the little ass could manage, coating every nook and cranny with a greasy membrane. "Think you're ready? Need more?"
He shook his head, chin dragging across the soft fur of Ziggs' shoulder. Twisting yearning fingers into the broad back, he pulled in closer, panting chest heaving against a firm body. Curling to the side, he pressed a kiss to his neck, relishing it twitch at his touch before dragging his lips up to the cheek.
"Ohhhh, babe," Ziggs squirmed, "sounds like a yes to me!" He grabbed and chucked the bottle across the room then wriggled back onto the mattress, pressing his back against the wall. After gently peeling Rumble's arms from his neck, he eased the smaller yordle to sit on his lap. Then, taking his plump, brown member in hand, he greased it with the lube staining his furry digits. "Two fingers are enough, right?"
But Rumble wasn't paying attention. Instead, his senses were fixated on the fat, slick rod standing at attention in the morning light, throbbing and leaking in excitement for what was to come.
Ziggs shivered, nearly bucking from the mattress as Rumble took his nuts in hand, sausage in the other, kneading and stroking and pumping just the way that made his toes curl. "I want you. So bad," he groaned.
Rumble purred right back, crawling up the lap of his other half. Lifting himself up, he planted his feet on the shifting mattress, gripping broad shoulders as he squatted over the lap below.
Ziggs, knowing what the other wanted and horny as fuck for it, took hold of the other's thighs. "Remember, bud, safe word's 'Heimerdinger,'" he shifted, the tip of his oozing head faintly brushing the hungry hole.
Rumble flicked an ear, foggy eyes wincing just the slightest.
"I mean," he snickered, "even if I don't finish, I'll still die laughing knowing you said Heimy's name in the sack."
"I hate you," though the blue boner bobbing in the open-air said otherwise.
"Nah, you loooooooove me," he kneaded tender thighs, digging his fingers in as he nudged at the rim. "Here, let me prove I love ya back." No more stalling, the bigger yordle slowly lowered the other towards his lap, solid member forced tight against Rumble's entrance. "All that and still so tight!" he growled.
They didn't stop – the pressure building and building as Rumble's weight came down on the slick rod. Centimeter by centimeter, millimeter by millimeter, hair by hair the fat pole spread his ass wide, forcing the air from his lungs. Only the helmet was in, yet Rumble's fur was matted with sweat, his formerly prepped ass burning as their scents swam in the small bedroom.
Ziggs grunted, bucking his hips into the damp heat, suffocating him so good. He wanted to plow into that pleasure, slam Rumble down and bury himself to the hilt, prove exactly who the precious little yordle belonged to. Instead, he grit his teeth, letting Rumble take all the time in the world swallowing his cock.
One inch. Two. Rumble's mind toed the line between mindless fog and sharp focus as 'lil Ziggy' wedged himself halfway inside. He shuttered, feeling a heavy heartbeat hammer through the invader, his own 'Rumble Jr.' lurching against the plump belly it rested upon.
Carefully watching his partner's face, Ziggs eased him lower, pausing when his expression tightened and pressing on once it relaxed. "Doing great, bud," he breathed, slick dripping from the hole onto his crotch. "Fuck, you feel good."
Rumble clenched his walls, a move that made Ziggs nearly tear into his thighs, tongue lolling from his mouth as his hefty chest panted. They were close, his cheeks could feel the heat emanating from Ziggs' lap. Legs aching, back arching, and teeth gritting, the smaller yordle took the final stretch, planting himself down on tensed thighs.
Rumble, Ziggs swore, was the brightest, most passionate, and kind-hearted guy Bandle City had to offer. Even if he hid it under that massive chip on his shoulder, Ziggs felt like the luckiest yordle in the world calling himself his partner. All those pure feelings, all that sentimentality, all of it flew out the window when that little spitfire took him to the balls. "Oh fuck, ah fuck," he feverishly rubbed up and down blue flanks, desperate to feel some friction against his aching manhood.
Rumble didn't miss that look, the pleasure dripping from those words. He lifted himself just a smidge, hardly half an inch, then dropped back down, Ziggs' member drilling through his tight passage.
"D-do it again," Ziggs pleaded, fire erupting through his crotch, ghosting his hands against every part of Rumble that drove him crazy, which was everything. Slim waist, tight belly, scrawny chest, and finally cupping his hands around the pits and lifting, "Please?"
It might have been the 'please,' though it was likely the pleasure that shocked his senses every time that meat-stick buried itself. Still, Rumble complied, feeling that massive girth sink into his belly, disappearing into his hole like a magic trick. He could hear it, if only faintly, the clap of wet blue fur against brown. Up and down, up and down. The drag on his rim, the fire when it dragged just right – it would drive a guy insane. "I-"
"Yea, babe?" he squeezed out, lifting and dropping the little guy on his crotch, hips just faintly thrusting mid-fall to catch him. His brows furrowed, nearly knitting together as flaring nose drank the scent of sex wafting through the room. He quickly grew bolder – his faint thrusts weren't so faint anymore, Rumble's ass rippling as Ziggs bucked into it. "Anything – ask, and I'll do it," he promised, velvety walls dragging under their spell. "Rob a bank? I'll fucking do it – just let me finish first."
"I want-"
"Straps? Caitlyn's fuzzy cuffs?" his thrusts grew even bolder, hips arching from the mattress in their impatience, the springs below squealing and groaning. It wasn't their usual racket, but Ziggs liked the sounds almost as much as mechanical screeches and explosions. "She's still looking for those." Another jab, a guttural grunt as his balls pressed tight against blue cheeks, hips twisting and twitching as the explosive yordle discovered heaven was real. Rumble had it hidden up his ass.
Rumble hadn't even the energy to roll his eyes, all his strength devoted to lifting up and falling back onto Ziggs. "Har…der.”
Brown ears spiked, Rumble's words flipping a switch in Ziggs' hectic head. Harder? Ziggs grinned, his pupils blown wide like Rumble was his drug and he needed another hit. Yes, he could definitely do harder. Fuzzy fingers furrowed into tender thighs, latching like a vise as his hips pumped faster. Harder. The soft rustle of sweat-soaked fur was replaced with wet smacks clapping throughout the room, Ziggs' hips bucking up from the mattress to strike at Rumble's rear.
Rumble tightened his hold, struggling to keep his feet planted on the sheets. Every thrust, every plunge of Ziggs' member jostled the blue yordle, his posture failing as his chest fell flush with Ziggs' face. Haggard breath puffed across his skinny chest, rustling his fur and seeping damp heat into his skin. "Ah!" he gasped as teeth grazed and latched onto a hidden nipple and nibbled the nub.
As his senses registered nothing but Rumble, as his lungs billowed with his partner's scent, Ziggs fought the churn in his sack. Not yet – no, not yet! Not now! If only he could make a moment last a lifetime, Ziggs wanted to right now. Naked as a bird, sweat soaking his fur, buried to his hilt as he held Rumble in his arms. But as sweet as that might be, Ziggs' stamina waned as he pistoned into tight euphoria.
Rumble fared no better; brows furrowed as his cheeks bared the brunt of each trust, teeth clenching as his feet bounced from the sheets. Sensation overwhelmed him, pleasure striking in waves as Ziggs dominated his ass. He moaned, grinding into the soft belly before him as his cock ached and dribbled slick onto the fur, feeling it seep down the crease where Rumble ended and Ziggs began. Another powerful thrust, another brush against his member, and the heat grew too intense to bear. "Ziggs!"
Winding his arms around Rumble's hips, the larger yordle lifted the smaller before forcing his back to the mattress. Balls aching, willpower shattered, he spread those thin legs wide before drilling. The pace was a fever pitch, yelps and moans rumbled through their chests as Ziggs' hips moved in a blur, chasing that high and feeling it bubbling up to greet him.
No words came from his panting maw, only guttural tones of ecstasy. Bared down against the mattress, pressure mounting both above and within, not a thought passed his mind as that fat cock hammered against his prostate. Nothing existed – there was only Ziggs and the mounting euphoria, growing so sharp it pained him to deny it.
Another thrust, another strike of his hips. His balls drew in tight, cock spasming against Rumble's tender walls. "Ah-ah!" He couldn't hold it – heat surged up his member, willpower alone couldn't stop it. Pulling back one final time, his flaring head dangling off the edge of Rumble's rim, Ziggs slammed back in to the balls. "Ahhhh…"
Feeling his mate spasm deep within, liquid warmth flooding his insides, Rumble followed. His cock lurched between their bellies, viscous seed sputtering in ropes across their fur. He sprawled across the bed, Ziggs following suit just a moment later.
They laid like that for the longest time, not moving a muscle, not a sound aside from heavy pants in each other's ears. Then, feeling his cum dribble from Rumble's thoroughly abused hole, Ziggs took the moment to slide his cock free. "There," he wheezed, rolling off onto his back and patting his partner's slim belly, "Cream…filled! Just like…I promised!"
Rumble tilted his head, taking in his partner's pinkened cheeks and proud emerald eyes as they gleamed with pride. A dozen snarky things streamed through his head, but the yordle just let them pass. Mustering his dwindling strength, he rolled over to his side, wrapping his arms around the other. "Yer' a big lug," he panted, "but I love ya."
Ziggs snickered, pulling his mate in close. "Same here, babe…same here."
…
……
…………
……………………
"Alright," Rumble pushed against the other's chest, rolling back and splaying himself across the mattress. "Go get donuts."
"Wait, what?" Ziggs raised a brow, wishing their post-fuck cuddle had lasted as long as the event itself.
"Glazed," Rumble gestured to his sticky belly, then reached down to point at the damp mattress-stain gradually spreading around his backdoor, "Cream-filled. Hop to it, buddy."
"Oh, come on, you were serious?" Ziggs sat up with great effort, softening member laid limp across his thigh. "I thought that was just bedroom talk!"
"Nope," he jabbed the other with his foot. "Promise is a promise, now chop-chop!"
Ziggs grumbled as he crawled over his partner and off the mattress, muscles aching as he bent over to grab a set of used shorts off the floor. "This is bull," he muttered, putting one leg in before the other "dirty talk isn't binding."
Rumble stretched out across the bed, taking great delight in occupying the warm spot where Ziggs had laid. "Talk to me when ya got a lawyer," he said, popping his joints and getting comfortable. "Hurry, before the good ones get stale."
Ziggs glared, wiping the cum off his belly with a piece of laundry before tossing it across the room and grabbing another to wear. "Fine," he jeered, tugging his 'I <3 Piltover' tee on over his ears. "But you're eating dick after those donuts, bud."
"…Hmm. We'll see."