Oh yeah, and there's some sexual content at the bottom. Nothing too crazy happens, yet. But you can just skip it and I'll summarize it at the bottom.
"What the hell is that?" Foxy questioned, suddenly, as he hinted at the finished clay work resting in Bonnie's palm.
"It's a fox," Bonnie plainly stated, lifting the tiny yet slim sculpture of a fox up to Foxy's eye level for a better view. "See?"
While eyeing one of the finer details of the clay mammal, Foxy knitted his brows at one of the Fox's particular features. It seemed to have spikes all over what he assumed was a helmet or something. This was definitely no ordinary fox, that's for sure...
"Er, what that hell is happening with its head? It's all spiky."
"It's supposed to be hair. Your hair, actually. If it was painted, you'd understand," Bonnie clarified, pausing for a brief moment to scoot his chair away from the desk he was working at and standing up.
"My hair?"
"Yeah, you know... because your name is Foxy... And the first half of your name sounds like 'fox.'" Bonnie pointed at the little fox and shot Foxy a crooked smile. "Get it? Foxy... and 'Fox-e?' They both sound the same kinda... but with different letters..."
When no response came from his neighbor other than a humorless stare, Bonnie felt so embarrassed to the point where he had to clear his throat awkwardly and slightly turn his body away to hide the humiliation blossoming on his face. Perhaps, that wasn't as clever as he would have liked it to be...
Yet as if the gods had found pity in Bonnie's poor attempt at making a joke, they granted bonnie with the gift of Foxy's highly amused chuckles spilling out of his lips to soothe the shorter man's damaged ego. In fact, bonnie's come to love that relieving sound. Either that, or Foxy actually found something else to laugh about, like the constipated facial expression he always wore when his embarrassment became unbearable.
"Seriously?" Foxy said through his dying laughter.
Bonnie pursed his lips with an indifferent shrug, and then he wandered off to set the "fox-e" Fox on one of his shelves where the surface was relatively clean. On his walk back to his chair, however, Bonnie caught Foxy smiling at him as if he had something snarky to say, which he almost always did.
"Can I tell you something?" Foxy asked, right on cue. Of course, Bonnie prepared himself for the downgrading that was soon to come. There was never really a dull moment with this man. "You were actually sort of cute just now. I'm going to have to cherish this moment for the rest of my life."
The word "cute" was utterly foreign to Bonnie, and it took him a good seven seconds for him to recognize the fact that Foxy had actually said something... nice. Not that Bonnie had ever been emotionally hurt by some of the insults Foxy slung at him, but this small compliment made it feel like thousands of feathers we're tickling his heart. He didn't know foxy had it in him.
"I'll have to cherish this moment, too. The moment where you learned how to give a proper compliment," Bonnie fired back with a smile, sitting down next to Foxy once again and wiping his clay-covered hands on his apron before watching Foxy's activity.
Currently, Foxy was whittling away at a block of softwood using the various knives and tools provided in Bonnie's wood carving kit. With further observations, Bonnie made it out to be a single daffodil where the edges of the petals were sometimes smooth and sometimes jagged. But it was clearly a daffodil, crafted surprisingly well by Foxy himself. The man didn't even have to use a reference to sketch out all of the details.
"Have you done wood carving before?" Bonnie voiced his thought, meanwhile, gathering all of his clay tools to begin cleaning up.
For a short second, Foxy glanced to the side and cocked a smile towards Bonnie before returning his focus to the point chisel in his hand as it picked away at some unwanted wood. "I've dabbled in it. Why? You impressed?"
"I'd be lying if I said no," the florist admitted, now standing up again and grabbing all of the tools and materials he needed to clean. "Are you almost finished?"
"Yeah, just give me a moment. Go ahead and clean up your mess or whatever it is you need to do," Foxy answered, finishing up his own artwork.
Bonnie left the room with an utterance of an "okay" and leisurely made his way over to the bathroom to first wipe his utensils down with a square sheet of cloth that he's used several times before. Then, he proceeded to wash off the remaining residue from each utensil by using the bathroom sink, one by one, until they were ready to be dried with a washcloth. (And yes, this sink required plenty of plumbing assistance thanks to the clay.)
When Foxy had said that he wanted to do some artsy activities with the florist, Bonnie initially thought that his neighbor was going to make a joke out of it by being chaotic and by horsing around, yet here Foxy was. Taking his little wooden craft project seriously and putting quite a bit of tedious effort into it. They both started on their art pieces a couple of days ago, so now they were putting together the final touches. Only, the "Fox-e" sculpture was Bonnie's third sculpture made since they began, and Foxy's daffodil was still his first wood carving.
A warm smile crossed Bonnie's face at the thought of Foxy being so patient and meticulous. And the fact that this simple activity is how Foxy chose to spend their time together made Bonnie's smile broaden, stretching his lips until they began to burn.
In the midst of all his cheery thoughts, the strands of hair that fell around the side of his face as he looked down was suddenly moved to the side, and Bonnie immediately leaned away from the source of his hair's movement.
"What're you smiling for?" Foxy chuckled, coming behind Bonnie to place his hands on the shorter man's slender hips.
"Nothing. Just thinking," Bonnie insisted, allowing the man behind him to press their bodies together in a comforting embrace. It was warm and familiar, and both men engaged in such a hold on a daily basis when they were alone.
Gently nudging Bonnie's head to the side, Foxy buried his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck, leaving soft wet kisses as he trailed up to Bonnir's ear. "And just what were you thinking about?"
Bonnie then craned his neck at particular angle just to press a kiss to Foxy's temple. Which at first, kissing Foxy was something the florist dreaded immensely and often avoided but that was before Foxy started to complain about never getting any attention from him. So, Bonnie cracked and finally became the one to take initiative every so often whenever he felt ballsy enough to make the first move.
Thinking up a response to the other man's question, Bonnie decided on telling him the truth. "You..."
"You were thinking of something naughty, I hope?" Foxy mumbled into the florist's ear, lightly grazing his teeth over the shell of while his hands slipped behind Bonnie's back to undo the filthy, clay-covered apron he was wearing.
But god, Foxy was uncouth and relentless with his intentions. He was just unbelievably crude and bold. Yet Bonnie somehow adored that aspect of him, not that he'd ever admit that to him. Instead, he would pretend that the scarred man's wandering hands and lewd mouth made him uncomfortable-- which they sometimes did-- but soon, Bonnie found himself soaking in these risque affections. Foxy surely had to be in the same boat, seeing as how he would wordlessly plead for more of Bonnie's rare acts of fondness.
With a dry laugh, Bonnie worked up a response for Foxy. "What naughty things could I possibly think about with you involved?"
Foxy huffed out a laugh and lifted his head away from Bonnie's neck, only to bring his hands up to pull the collar of the apron off of Bonnie and letting it fall into a heap on the floor. Now that the strip of cloth was out of the way, Foxy planted a kiss on the nape of the shorter man's neck.
"I can think of some indecent ideas for the two of us to act upon," Foxy murmured, his hot breath sending a noticable shiver up Bonnie's spine.
"Yeah? Like what?" The florist questioned, turning off the bathroom sink and drying off the last of his art tools in the process just to realize what he had stupidly said.
He wished he hadn't challenged him so eagerly. Because now, a set of teeth dug into the flesh of his nape and there was no way to escape with the sink in front of him and with Foxy holding him from behind. All Bonnie could do was hiss at the sharp pain coming from the back of his neck, and his knees buckled as he attempted an escape but Foxy kept him supported and standing upright.
"Foxy, that fucking hurts..." Bonnie grumbled through clenched teeth.
Almost immediately, Foxy released a heavy sigh, one that expressed compliance, and he removed his teeth to gently glide his tongue across the bite mark before pressing an apologetic kiss to the bruising skin. Straightening himself up, Bonnie turned around to face Foxy with a frown, all the while rubbing the back of his neck in mild annoyance.
"Sorry about that. Couldn't help myself," Foxy apologized, reaching up to grab both sides of the purple-haired gentleman's face and leaning down to kiss him on the nose with a monotone "muah."
The moment Bonnie's lips twitched up into a meek smile, Foxy knew he was out of the woods for biting him so harshly. They've experimented with biting and marking each other a couple of times, but this bite took the cake; it would surely leave one hell of a bruise on Bonnie's pale skin. A bruise that would definitely stir up some suspicions.
"Oh, by the way, the gang is coming over in probably... the next ten minutes? They just called. I hope that's okay," the scarred tattoo artist casually informed Bonnie.
"Thanks for the heads up..."
"Are you being sarcastic, or are you actually grateful for me telling you?" Foxy asked, voice sounding somewhat unsure.
Bonnie was genuinely confused by the question, but realization donned his features in short time. "No, I meant it. I have time to get ready, at least."
"Get ready for what? Are you gonna cook or something?" Foxy quipped, helping Bonnie gather his tools and apron.
Bonnie guffawed at the notion. "I could cook something, but I'd rather not. I'll just set out some junk food and stuff and you guys can help yourselves."
"Damn. And here I thought you were finally going to cook for me," The scarred tattoo artist sulked, following Bonnie into his bedroom and helping the shorter man clean the mess in the room.
Bonnie halted in his session of cleaning to squint at Foxy with disbelief written all over his worn face. "Um... I can cook for you if you'd just ask. I can't promise it'll be any good, but the offer's on the table. It'll probably be burnt noodles..."
A tender smile spread across Foxy's face, appreciating his companion's unusual form of generosity, and he continued to sweep up the mess that his wood carving left behind. "Thanks, flower boy."
_______________
By the time the remainder of his neighbors made it to the apartment, Bonnie had chips, sweets, and other snack foods set along the kitchen table and the countertops. Cups of soda and alcohol littered a majority of the furniture surfaces in the apartment, and Bonnie could've sworn that these people had no idea how to reuse their cups or glasses for the same damn drink. They were just as wasteful with the cups as they were with the plates and bowls, but the florist dismissed his slight agitations mostly because he's come to favor his neighbors and their company. He'd still have to go through hell to clean the place up, though.
At the moment, Foxy had taken Mangle and Mike to rummage through Bonnie's room just for good fun and to be nosy, little trolls. Meanwhile, Bonnie sat at the kitchen table with the others, splitting a bottle of whiskey with Spring and BB . The three had silently initiated a drinking contest against each other, but neither one of them officially announced such a competition. They just kept track of how many shots they've had to make sure they were all on the same page, and they simply waited for someone other than themselves to back down in order to earn some bragging rights.
"Bonnie! I didn't know you were a sculptor!" Mangle exclaimed, her tone full of excitement as she bounced into the room and startled half of everyone in the kitchen.
In her hand was Bonnie's most valuable sculpture, "Father," and sculptor himself ended up eyeing it with intense worry. Moments later, Foxy and Mike trailed into the room with grins that held an unnerving secret, but Bonnie wasn't in the mood to pry. Maybe the alcohol was helping to keep his usual short temper at bay.
"Yeah, I usually sculpt in my free time, but I don't go around telling everyone," Bonnie stated, his wary, red eyes staying glued to the clay hand in Mangle's possession.
"You did that?" BB asked, waving Mangle over so that she could hand it over to him; Bonnie tensed up at the sight but nodded, nonetheless. "This isn't half bad... Do you have more of these?"
"He's got a hell of a lot of hands in his room. It's like he has a hand fetish," Mike informed the group, and Bonnie could feel his cheeks growing warm at the accusation. Either that, or the alcohol in his system was causing his face to increase in temperature. He didn't know.
BB ogled the wondrously sculpted hand for a few seconds longer before passing it to Spring Trap. What the hell was going on? "Father" was certainly not a blunt that was to be passed around in a circle letting everyone take a turn with it. This was Bonnie's treasure. It was more important to him than his own life, so it obviously irked the hell out of him.
"How come it says 'Father' on it? Is it dedicated to your dad?" Golden hummed as he peered over Spring's shoulder to get a good look at the hand.
Before Bonnie could get a word out, Spring butted in. "I could see you having a daddy kink. You do live with two older men who are in no way related to you..."
Switching his gaze to Spring, Bonnie gawked at him with wild, crimson eyes. "That's disgusting! They're like family to me."
"So you say..." Foxy wisecracked. "You know, maybe your kink isn't so bad. I'd actually enjoy being your Daddy. All you have to do is ask."
A few chuckles were passed around the group, and Bonnie could see Marionette shaking his head disapprovingly out of the corner of his eye. At least, he was considerate enough to condemn his friends' teasing.
"Foxy, fuck off. I don't find that funny," Bonnie warned him, casting the red-haired man a malcontent glare while his dry lips tugged down into a somber frown.
Some surprised sounds escaped the nearby spectators watching the scene unravel, but this only egged Foxy on further.
"Why not? Because it's true?" The man retorted, a shit-eating grin forming along his face.
Spring chuckled at the irritation being shown through Bonnie's act of scratching his arm with one infuriated hand. His fingernails left trails of blooming redness on his wrist, and it burned like hell but Bonnie only did it for his sanity. If he denied these harmful afflictions against himself, then he'd probably lash out at other people out of blind rage So, he scratched. He scraped. He tore. And he sometimes bled.
"There's nothing wrong with having daddy issues. At least take pride in your kink. --That's disgusting. What kind of creep gets off to something like that?" Mike encouraged and criticized all in the same dialogue. Bonnie didn't know whether to thank him or to be offended by him.
Gradually, the atmosphere in the kitchen began to drop into one heavy with tension. Mangle nervously grabbed "Father" out of Spring's hands and gently placed it on the table so that it was in front of Bonnie before scampering over to sit by BB. Noticing the artwork based off of his own father's hand sitting before him, Bonnie removed his hand from his arm, which was immediately left with the same lingering burning sensation you feel when you skin your elbow.
Empty hands reached out to grab ahold of the artificial appendage, and the florist tucked it away in his lap while two of his fingertips traced along the clay thumb. Knowing that this piece was safely in his hands once again, Bonnie finally managed to calm himself before doing anything rash, but there was still fury boiling inside of him just waiting to burst out of him with the added heat of another insult.
The clanking sound of glass meeting wood caught the purple-haired florist's attention, and he lifted his head up to face the sound; Spring had just finished another drink and his complexion was a shade darker than the rest of his skin, sort of like a blush. He was drunk.
"So, uh, what? Did your dad abandon you, or was he abusive? Neglectful? What turned you over to this kink?" Spring slurred his words, flashing Bonnie a grin, albeit one of civility and mild interest.
Bonnie paused for a moment. There was no way in hell he would answer any of those questions; partly because they didn't pertain to him and partly because they were personal questions. Extremely personal, at that.
Nonetheless, the florist stood, "Father" safely in his dainty yet firm grasp, and he started for his room. Maybe he'll just stay there for the remainder of the night. Or maybe he'll jump out his window and die to provide as a big "fuck you" to the ones insisting he had such an unfavorable sexual desire. It would save him the embarrassment and the trouble.
"Where are you going, daddy's boy?" Spring cackled after the scrawny man. His boisterous laughing, however, was instantly cut off when he caught a peek of BB's frightening glare, one that threatened to do ungodly things to the blonde-haired man if he continued to taunt Bonnie.
With that, Bonnie was almost out of the kitchen-- almost safe from his offending neighbors-- but of course... there was always something else. Something that always shot down what little hope he could muster up.
"Don't be such a sourpuss, Bon-Bon. We'll still like you even if you're a sick bastard who feels the need to be fucked by a 'daddy.' It's pretty fucked up, but I'll support you, anyways," Foxy jested, grinning and looking awfully pleased with his mocking.
Now that was the last straw. Bonnie could excuse Spring for being shit-faced drunk, he could excuse Mike for being... well, Mike .But Foxy. Foxy didn't have an excuse other than being a complete asshole. And just for that, Bonnie was going to fight back and serve it to him hard. He'd make Foxy feel exactly like he did at the moment. Garbage.
"Foxy?" Bonnie addressed him, also gaining the turn of everyone else's heads.
"Yes?"
Now to deliver the first and final blow.
"My parents are dead."
As expected, silence inadvertently consumed the entirety of the kitchen with giant, invisible jaws clamping down on everyone, much to the florist's approval. Bonnie didn't even wait for a more sporadic reaction and, instead, left the kitchen altogether. Despite no longer being in the same room as them, Bonnie could only imagine the withdrawn expressions on all of their faces, especially Foxy's. Bonnie definitely felt the air grow heavy as his words reached their ears and filled their lungs with guilt and remorse like a noxious gas.
What he wouldn't give to have seen the stupified look on Foxy's usually smug face...
Still feeling a bit of grief from having his neighbors demean him about a ridiculous sexual fantasy that he never possessed in the first place, Bonnie put the replica of his father's hand next to the shattered replica of his mother's. He skulked around his room for a few seconds longer before he started to feel regret bubbling up inside him.
Maybe he overreacted. It was never his intention to ruin everyone's fun all because he was a little butthurt by a small bit of teasing. It was, of course, selfish of him. But to be fair, they took matters a tad too far, and his feelings were actually somewhat hurt by their willingness to assume such terrible things of him. Technically, both sides might've been in the wrong.
Bonnie knew better than to keep them all waiting in the blissful essence of awkwardness, so he hesitantly crept his way back into the kitchen, apology ready to be spat out in a jumbled mess merely because he's never been good with apologies. Specifically, verbal ones.
Apologizing was a hell of a lot harder when there was a room full of surprised eyes looking straight at him with worried questions written all over their faces. But Bonnie was already in a commitment, so he took a deep breath and mindlessly let the words spill out of him in exchange for beating around the bush.
"I didn't mean to make things awkward. To tell you the truth, I'm not even bothered by my parents' deaths anymore... I was just really pissed off and... I'm sorry I overreacted over nothing. And sorry if I made you feel like shit, Spring... Mike... And Foxy," Bonnie spoke solemnly as he apologized, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt and avoiding eye contact all the while.
Peeking up at his guests out of curiosity of their ongoing silence, Bonnie locked eyes with Foxy who motioned him over with a single finger. The other man was obviously upset, but Bonnie found himself absentmindedly wandering over to where Foxy sat while everyone remained wordless. The atmosphere was lighter now since Bonnie gave his apologetic speech, only there was something still missing from it all.
Acceptance.
bonnie didn't know what to expect when Foxy immediately tugged him into his lap and nuzzled his face into the soft purple hair on the side of the florist's head, whispering apology after apology into his ear. This new act of tenderness completely threw off Bonnie, and he had to admit, he felt incredibly shy with six pairs of eyes witnessing this moment of vulnerability.
"Okay, Foxy... That's enough. You don't have to apologize," Bonnie insisted. But Foxy moved on to humiliate the shorter man some more by planting soft kisses along the recently made abrasions on Bonnie's arm. "Foxy, this is really embarrassing. Please, stop before you really piss me off."
Now, the atmosphere was significantly lighter, relieved of all tension as joyful laughs and chuckles were passed around, all at Bonnie's demise. Mangle and Golden mused about how cute they were, and Mike and Spring made silly cat calls mostly out of their own drunken stupor and outrageous personalities. Then, BB said something about the two being dorks who were made for each other, while Marionette lightly chuckled in agreement. The couple missed over half of their friends' spoken words, not even reaching their ears but flying right over their heads, nonetheless.
In time, Bonnie gradually became restless from fighting Foxy's sweetened assaults on his face and neck, so he surrendered himself and went limp in the red-haired gentleman's lengthy arms, finding himself secretly enjoying such tender care from the man he marveled from head to toe. What could he say? Foxy was a little harsh, but he was still perfect.
"Bon-Bon?" Foxy started, "Why is this the first I'm hearing of your parents' deaths?" Foxy's voice was low and serious, but laced with the brooding nature of honest concern.
For a moment, Bonnie thought over the best way to answer truthfully. Without sounding like a horrible person, at that. "I don't like to talk about it much. And actually, I've mostly forgotten about their deaths. Sensei found me one day and won custody over me, changed my name so I wouldn't have to associate myself with my parents as much, and I guess it happened so long ago that it hardly bothers me to talk about it anymore..."
The perplexed look on Foxy's face was an obvious clue that whatever Bonnie said was wrong or otherworldly, which wasn't the best response Bonnie's ever received. But it wasn't the worst one either.
"Wait, wait, wait... You had your name changed when you were little?" Foxy interjected, quizically.
"Yeah... My birth name is Bowen, but I'd appreciate it if you used the name I go by now," Bonnie stated, his voice flat and absent of joy. (Don't judge the name I let my gf pick it, plus I think it kinda cute)
"Well, shit... I didn't see that coming... But why- why didn't you say something before?" Foxy asked, thoughtfully raising his brows. "How did they die?"
Bonnie occupied himself momentarily by tracing a finger over one of Foxy's hands, and his lips tugged into a sad smile. "I don't like telling people mainly because I don't want people feeling sorry for me. It happened years ago, so I don't need anyone's sympathy. And about how they died... They were killed... I'll just leave it at that."
Upon noticing the disappointed look on Foxy's face, Bonnie grinned cheekily with full knowledge that the red-haired man wanted to hear the story. But that wasn't going to happen. "Tell me your real name, and maybe I'll tell you the story."
In an instant, Foxy's whole demeanour was changed from being loving and caring to being disinterested and nonchalant. "We both know that ain't gonna happen."
Bonnie then offered him a lazy smile and took the opportunity to stand from Foxy's lap, returning to his original seat from before the whole sculpture situation began. "Good. I didn't want to have to tell you, anyways."
_____________
Another hour flew by with everyone eating, drinking, cracking a few lighthearted jokes to one another, and so on before the hours grew later and person after person gradually became more exhausted. Finally, BB and his crew sluggishly made their way across the street to head to bed, but Foxy stayed. He almost always did.
In the bedroom, Bonnie flopped onto his bed with a heavy "oof," closing his bloodshot eyes and allowing a small, drunken smile to take over his face. Foxy found his odd smile somewhat off-puting, but it was new. And that made him all the more curious.
Just what was on Bonnie's mind?
Crawling over the shorter man's frail body, Foxy straddled one of Bonnie's slender legs and held himself up with both hands, which were placed on either side of the florist's head, basically caging the smaller man beneath him. With a light smirk, Foxy peered down at a pair of softened, red eyes which expressed nothing but simple minded contentedness.
"You had too much to drink tonight, didn't you?" Foxy asked, baring his teeth in a playful grin when Bonnie laughed through his lazy smile. "No wonder you're in such a good mood."
Bonnie blinked slowly at him, and then raised his hands to gently cup Foxy's cheeks "I only drank to help put me in the mood. In case you wanted to try some things tonight..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa... You actually planned on being horny tonight?" Foxy inquired, raising a skeptical brow and wearing a surprised grin at his partner's sudden boldness.
"No, I just did it so I wouldn't be as nervous," Bonnie denied, obviously having trouble with trying to cover up his own promiscuous curiosity.
"Exactly. You drank because you were hoping we'd experiment, right?" The red-haired man clarified, getting excited just by talking about the idea of intercourse.
Registering those words, Bonnie glanced off to the side for a second and looked back up at Foxy. "Oh. I guess I did..."
The urge to not laugh was much too hard to bear at this point, and Foxy couldn't be bothered to suppress a few humorous chuckles. Nothing could possibly beat witnessing such an honest and relaxed version of Bonnie. And that rare yet natural smile of his, absent of any restraint, was in no way unattractive. In fact, Foxy would be all for taking Bonnie at this very moment, but there was just one thing. This idiot was intoxicated.
But that didn't quite mean that Foxy couldn't revel in an innocent make out session. After all, Bonnie had been lightly pulling Foxy down closer for the last few seconds, so the scarred man figured he could at least indulge his flushed sweetheart.
The kisses started off slow and full of passion, their lips meeting in a calm, synchronized rhythm. Neither one of them was in any kind of rush. Instead, they found solace in one another with each kiss, steadily allowing their bodies to grow closer and closer together until it was physically impossible to come together anymore.
Although, the kissing never escalated into one of those heated make outs that happened right before sex like in the movies, there was still a strong sense of arousal swarming both Foxy and Bonnie with an unbearable heat. Foxy still had his doubts about having sex with his drunk lover, but he wanted this. He wanted this so badly it made his entire body ache. And not because he was horny and needed to get off, but because he would finally break this lonely, antisocial florist out of his hard, anxious shell.
In all honesty, Foxy truly cared about Bonnie, to an extent that might've turned himself into a softer human being. And if he truly had gone soft, then Foxy was glad that Bonnie was the one to change him, for better or for worse, as long as it was Bonnie's doing. And maybe that's why Foxy felt the need to stop this before he ruined it.
Retreating carefully, Foxy looked down at the dazed expression on Bonnie's flushed complexion. "I can't do this if you're drunk, you know that, right?"
Bonnie's comforting hold around Foxy's neck went slack a little, and the purple-haired florist turned his head to stare at the wall. "But that was the whole point of me drinking...Didn't wanna be too nervous," he slurred, almost sounding like he barely woke up from a peaceful slumber.
Foxy snorted. "If you're too nervous, then we don't have to do anything, you dork. I'll wait until you're ready."
Bonnie cocked a weary smile and blinked slowly at the man above him. "I am ready..."
"Trust me, I don't think you are," Foxy assured him, despite the frail man noticeably ignoring his words.
Before Foxy could utter something else, Bonnie's impulsive side seemed to be more hasty than what he first thought, and he felt the shorter man grind himself against his leg. The action itself was sexy, but it didn't help to ease the scarred man's want for Bonnie.
With some encouragement from the thinner man's arms gently pulling Foxy closer again, Bonnie whispered, "It's okay."
Foxy, of course, knew that it wasn't actually "okay," yet he still gave in to another kiss and he still selfishly rolled his hips against Bonnie's, hearing the other man's breath hitch. The friction from their clothes and the solidity of each other's body made their grinding that much more desirable until they were both heedlessly rutting against one another in long, slow motions, breathing heavier and groaning softly.
From Foxy's standpoint, Bonnie already looked like a wreck in such little time. Face completely red, mouth partially open, several strands of hair astray, crimson eyes half-lidded and twitching from this first experience of arousal. Such strained and lewd sounds came from the frail man, and Foxy felt sinful for desiring more.
A surprisingly soft hand found its way under Bonnie's shirt and worked itself up his abdomen, groping the florist in places that made his skin burn. For the last few minutes, Bonnie has been feeling those imaginary, idiomatic butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, searching for a way out in the most unforgiving way. He could hardly even comprehend what was happening at this very moment.
He didn't notice when Foxy's lips moved to tenderly suck and nip at his neck. He didn't notice when Foxy's hand gingerly slid it's way down the flat of his stomach until it reached his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. It wasn't until Foxy snuck his hand beneath the hem of his boxers that Bonnie was fully aware of his own excitement. And his nausea..
Those butterflies in his gut were going completely berserk, and Bonnie knew in an instant that this was no ordinary nervous first time jitters. Something else was making his stomach churn in a way most unagreeable to his body, slowly rising in his esophagus and making his mouth water for the worst possible reason. Perhaps, he had too much to drink...
Placing his palm against Foxy's shoulder, Bonnie weakly pushed the taller man away and struggled to sit up. "S-Stop... Stop, I can't--"
Before Foxy managed to get a word out, Bonnie wriggled himself out from underneath Foxy with a fierce swiftness and flung himself off of the bed and towards the door. All the while, Foxy stood up from the bed with a perplexed look on his face and held his hands out in a confused gesture as he watched his companion rush out the door hunched over and covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I fucking told you you weren't ready!" Foxy shouted after him, his voice monotone but still expressing the full extent of his frustrations. He heard the door to the bathroom slam shut, so he didn't bother to stick around and left with a chip on his shoulder, left to think that he'd done something unforgivable to Bonnie with no one else to blame but himself for nearly taking advantage of Bonnie.
Meanwhile, Bonnie had his own problems. His face was hovering right above the toilet bowl as he vomited all of his stomach contents, most of which was alcohol. He's never puked from alcohol before, so he wanted to assume that he was vomiting because of nerves from having his first sexual experience. Bonnie never intended for the night to turn in this direction.
His initial plan was to put his anxiety problems at ease by drinking. After that, he would allow his and Foxy's actions to take their course whether it may be a delicate conversation about deepening their relationship or rather something far more intimate and physical.
Bonnie's been picking up on Foxy's passive hints lately, too. Like if they were spooning and Foxy thought the florist was fast asleep, Bonnie would feel something stiff protrude against his backside. But Bonnie was hardly ever asleep at times like these, and he would shyly lay still with a burning face while Foxy cursed under his breath and softly bucked his hips in widespread intervals so as not to wake his "sleeping" companion with too much movement. Although it made Bonnie into the bashful, little virgin that he was, he was never opposed to the idea of having his first time with Foxy.
And that was why he drank so much tonight. Why he became nauseated. Why he had the shower faucet and sink faucet running to disguise the sound of him retching. Why Foxy went home feeling like shit. Why nothing turned out right on what was supposed to be a perfect night.
After about ten minutes, Bonnie figured he had thrown up as much as he possibly could and stood up to flush the toilet in mild disgust. He then turned the running water off, rinsed his mouth out, brushed his teeth, and reinforced his hygiene with mouthwash. Once he finished, he moseyed on over to his room and froze. He checked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't crazy and looked back into the empty room as a solemn frown donned his features.
Sighing to himself, the florist crept downstairs only to find Foxy's shoes missing and the door locked by somebody else. The sight alone made Bonnie's chest tighten with regret, so he hurried back up the stairs and grabbed ahold of his phone, his thumbs working frantically to type out a long, apologetic message in hopes of receiving a forgiving response in return.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour without a response. Before Bonnie knew it, he was teary-eyed and lying down on his stomach so that his cheek was squished by the couch cushion, and his phone was clutched to his chest. He prayed his phone would go off at any moment, but not a single notification chimed on his phone.
With a shaky exhale, Bonnie rolled onto his back and looked down at himself in shame. And by some odd chance, he noticed his pants were still unbuttoned from earlier, and he couldn't suppress the humored smile stretching along his face as he zipped and buttoned them. The situation was kind of comedic, he had to admit.
What a hilarious turn of events...
So if you skipped the sexual content, what happens is... Bonnie gets drunk so that he and Foxy can do the nasty, but Foxy's like "No, you're drunk." Bonnie keeps insisting, and Foxy gives in. Bunny boy gets nauseous from the alcohol and disrupts the nasty that is about to ensue. He runs off to puke, Foxy get upset and leaves, feeling like it's his fault. Bonnie leaves the bathroom and realizes Foxy went home. Tries to text Foxy an apology and gets ignored. Lies on the couch and almost cries, but instead, laughs at how the situation sounded funny.
***
Other than that I've been finishing this up since I think 6 a.m. so now I'm gonna sleep for forever, good night