“Wanna stay over?” Gem asked a while later as the credits scrolled over the television. “I’ll make up the couch for you.”
It took Rusty several long seconds to answer, and disappointment curled through Gem’s chest at the coming rejection. But when Rusty murmured a soft, hesitant, “Okay,” heat speared through Gem’s veins.
With a pleased sigh, Gem took a long drag from the dwindling joint. “I love when friend dates turn into slumber parties.”
“I’ve never been to a slumber party,” Rusty admitted as he took the offered weed and brought it to his lips.
Gem’s head shot up so fast he had to blink several times to clear his head of vertigo. “That is entirely unacceptable!”
“Is it?” Rusty asked around the joint, and Gem nodded fiercely.
“Yes! We are going to change that tonight. We’re gonna have the best slumber party ever. We’ll paint our nails and do face masks—oh wait, that would get clogged in your fur. New plan!” he sang while he climbed to his feet, swaying slightly as his weed-addled brain struggled to catch up. “Mani-pedis, girl-talk, pillow fights—scratch that last one; that soundsporny. We’re gonna gossip and talk about boys. And girls,” he added, motioning to a now horrified looking Rusty. “You know, since you’re into pussy too.
“Not that body parts equal gender. That's not what I meant. But just because I can't talk about girls, doesn't mean I can’t talk about pussy. I’ve eaten boy-pussy before, and even though it was my first time and I wasn’t super good at it, I feel like my effort and enthusiasm made up for my lack of experience. He said he liked it, and I don’t think he was lying. I made him come, at least, and that has to count for something.
“Then after, he strapped me with one of my favorite dildos, and, oh my gods, did he know what he was doing. We had such a fun night.” Gem sighed wistfully as the memories played through his mind, before he shook his head clear and shot Rusty a disapproving look. “Wait, no, we’re doing this out of order! We can’t talk about boys until we’re in our jammies and painting each other’s nails.”
“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not even talking,” Rusty said defensively.
“Bup, bup, bup.” Gem shushed him as he grabbed him by the wrists and hauled him up. “Jammie time. Let’s go.”
After much bickering and cajoling, Gem finally talked Rusty into donning hisjuicyshorts again since he hadn’t brought his own pajamas. While he changed in the bathroom, Gem dumped his box of makeup supplies on the bed and arranged the nail polish by color. He had two shades of black—one glittery, one matte—but he was hoping Rusty would let him use at least one color. Maybe on his pinky toe claw or something.
“I still don’t understand why I have to be in pajamas for this,” Rusty griped as he rounded the room partition, wearing the shorts and his cut-off black t-shirt, smoldering joint dangling precariously from between his lips.
“Because it’s practically a rule. Slumber party aesthetic and all that,” Gem explained for what had to have been the thousandth time, and Rusty blinked sardonically, nose wrinkling. Sniffing, Gem crossed his lowest arms over his torso and scowled. “It’s for the vibes, Rus!”
“Gross,” Rusty said as he dropped his jeans into a heap on the floor, whiskers twitching as he studied the array of nail polish. “The nail polish I can get behind, but I’m not letting you do my makeup.”
With a snort, Gem waved him over. “With all your fur, the makeup wouldn’t work anyway. Though I have a special shampoo with glitter in it, if ever you’re feeling frisky.”
Leaning one hand on the bed, Rusty used his other to hold out of the smoldering stub of marijuana. “Pass.”
As Gem captured the joint between his lips, the rough pads of Rusty’s fingers grazed his chin, and Rusty’s eyes once again dropped to Gem’s mouth. For a moment, Gem swore Rusty’s pheromones thickened in the air between them, and he smiled smugly around the joint.
Whiskers twitching, Rusty tore his gaze away and grumbled under his breath as he hesitantly crawled onto the bed. He sat down across from Gem, legs curling underneath him as his tail thumped anxiously against the mattress. His belly spilled over the waistband of the shorts, framed beautifully by his cut-off shirt, and Gem barely resisted the urge to reach out and give it a rub. He had a feeling Rusty would hiss at him if he tried.
Or maybe he’d purr. Gem liked it when Rusty did that, and for a moment, he wondered what else he could do to get the Pyclon purring. Which was entirely inappropriate and upsetting, because this was Rusty, and thinking about Rusty likethatwas… wrong.
“Is it, though?”his stoned, asshole brain asked.
“Yes!” he snapped back.
“Yes, what?” Rusty said, because apparently Gem had spoken aloud.
“Huh?”
“You just shouted, ‘yes,’ out of nowhere,” Rusty said, and Gem’s cheeks warmed.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Gem sniffed haughtily, and Rusty frowned in confusion. Before he could reply, Gem smoothly changed the subject. “Anyway, what color do you want on your nails?”
“Black,” Rusty said definitively, and Gem pouted.
“Boo, that’s boring. Can I at least use the sparkly black on some of them?” Gem held up the glittering black polish, and Rusty shrugged.
“Sure.”
“Wait, really?”
