quackity is tired. it is one in the morning, yet no schlatt yet. hes beginning to get worried that the rambouillet wont return again. hes still in his work clothes, sitting in front of the window. its frosty, he cant see out of it clearly.
waiting.. waiting.. waiting...
dull tapping on the glass.
tap. tap. tap.
quackity opens the window, grinning wide.
schlatt doesnt smile back, just floats in. quackity sits down on the bed and schlatt is in the air.
" aww. whats got you all angry? "
" fuck you. some assholes pissed me off, youre lucky i actually came tonight. "
he acts as if his world wouldnt come crashing down if there was a day the phantom didnt visit him.
they bicker a bit. back and forth of names and joking threats. schlatt is still in the air, closer to quackity now. the ravenette has a shit eating grin etched onto his face while the undead scowls at him.
" no, shut the fuck up, dickwad -- "
" make me then. "
they get closer. schlatt grabs the other by the hair, tangling his hands in the dirty mess on quackitys head and pulling. pulling so hard it hurt.
" ow- you bitch-! "
he was cut off by their lips being connected.
it hurt, hurt so bad but it felt heavenly. the suffocating love felt intoxicating, addictive.
they were kissing. oh so passionately. as if each other was their only source of air. every time schlatt tugged his hair, bit his lip, every cold touch from the ghost on his tan skin. it made him crazy. it drived him absolutely mad.
schlatt was grounded now. quackity is leaning back against the wall with a flat pillow against his back and schlatt is ontop of him, still tugging at his hair and kissing him like no tomorrow.
bang.
bang.
bang.
schlatt hits the others head against the wall. it hurts so good. one, two, three times his head is bashed against the concrete wall, white paint now slightly stained red. theyre still kissing. schlatt claws at quackitys neck and back, red dribbles down the back of his neck from out of the slits.
schlatt pulls away. he breathes, despite not needing to. more so to give quackity a break. he looks exhausted. hes breathing heavily and theres blood dripping down, staining his white dress shirt that he wears for work.
quackitys face contorts into one of joy. of adrenaline-drived joy. his lips curl into a wide grin and his eyes are half closed.
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418 words
hi!!! update wooo.. im so bad at slow burn so it escalated really quickly SKDJSJDJ
but!!! tell me what you think!!! i love your guys' feedback !!!
uhh uhhh, should this be a smut book-??? still trying 2 decide..