Clubhouse - a Mickey Mouse story

39

That night, as soon as they got to their room, Donald pounced on Goofy like a lion and ripped off his suit, squeezing the dips between his ribs and his hips as their tongues intertwined.
"Baby, Max is here," Goofy whispered through a giggle as his husband moved to his neck.
Donald shushed him and continued on while Goofy thought about the wedding. It was so wonderful. Better than he ever could have hoped. Maybe, he thought, even the second best day of his life.
He silently smiled to himself. Just the feeling of Donald's body heat filled him with bliss. As hard as he tried, he couldn't find a single flaw. This, he thought, is true love.

The next morning Goofy woke up to the smell of pancakes. He was confused when he saw Donald was still in bed. He got up, dizzy for a moment, and wandered into the kitchen, finding Max at the stove.
"Oh, hey Dad."
"Good morning," he yawned. "You made breakfast?"
"Yeah."
"Gosh, thanks, son." He pat Max's back.
"No problem. Just thought I'd make some good breakfast for my dad the last time I see him before his honeymoon."
"Is it now?" Goofy asked.
"Yeah. I'm going to work in twenty minutes, so...have a good time in Hawaii."
Goofy smiled. "Thanks, son." He brought his breakfast to Donald and they ate together, watching themselves ruin celebrity news on the TV.