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And eventually, Luigi “put down” Peasley back onto the ground, and though he didn’t move his hands off Peasley, the breaking off of contact between their lips let Peasley see he was breathing very hard and fast, eyelids vibrating.

“Hehehe… Wow!”

“You keep saying that!”

“I’m’a not have anything else ta’say, your Highness!”

“What about “that was fun”?”

Luigi smiled wider and glanced away. “It was fun! But -” his face suddenly changed “ -ar’a’you, um, ar’a’you also have fun?!”

“Why, I found it so good! Splendid! Quite the thrill!”

“That’s’a excellent!” Luigi nodded. He seemed to truly mean it.

Peasley could not cope. It was the culmination of that thrill, that exhilaration, and the need to prove a point that hey, that was easy, I can do you one better, and the unrelenting authenticity on his amusing little darling’s face, and the faint realisation that Peasley would not get to see it for much longer.

He could not cope, with such energy coursing through his veins, and instead had to do something with it.

So Peasley took Luigi again, not by the face but by the shoulder and the waist – which was, of course, to simply copy Luigi, but Peasley found his approach rather infallible, and had no choice but to try it himself – and pushed him against the wall, right between two of the paintings.

Luigi yelped, naturally, but once pressed against it he immediately cupped Peasley’s face and kissed him again.

I was meant to be the one to kiss you, this time! Peasley would never, it seemed, outsmart him. Even if he were pushed against a wall. Even when they had all but swapped hand placements, which Peasley might have tried to delude himself into thinking was the only reason he’d not been the initiator. Oh, he was just so smooth, this clumsy and unsmooth Luigi!

It was not as though Peasley could complain – not really – but it felt like, in his raw authenticity, Luigi was actually difficult to “crack”, in the way his nervousness otherwise suggested could be done. Peasley wanted the satisfaction of absolutely knocking him for six, and at this point, he’d not really done so.

And as their bodies pressed closer, what with the wall quietly compelling such proximity, Peasley felt the exhilaration surge in concert with his mild frustration.

So when they drew away, Peasley held onto Luigi’s bottom lip with his teeth and whispered, “hey, Luigi.”

“A-a-ah? Yea?” He cringed for a second as the word left his mouth and then, rather impressively considering Peasley still held him between his teeth, “corrected” himself. “Um, yes, your Highness?”

“Oh, stop that, just call me Peasley,” he muttered, smirking slightly. “Now, do you need to leave soon?”

“Um…!” His eyelids closed a little, almost sleepily, almost regretfully. “Sorta.”

“You realise, that if we don’t do it now…” Peasley unbit and articulated clearly, “we – never – will?”

Luigi furrowed his brow. “Er…?”

Peasley looked at him for a good few moments for signs of his having grasped the innuendo. Luigi had appeared to grasp, and enjoy, all the others up to this point, so it was a bit surprising to observe that this gambit of Peasley’s meant precisely zero to him.

And in the silence of Peasley waiting for a reaction, Luigi spoke up. “You’r’a mean, kiss? We can still do that! I really… I really would… ah, um…”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Luigi – in an act that very nearly stunned Peasley into excessive laughter – made a “hm…” sound and ungripped one hand from Peasley’s face to stroke the end of his moustache quizzically. He’d observed Luigi doing similar things when trying to solve a puzzle or riddle, and even now his gaze shifted, moved through Peasley, as though he did not see Peasley as all that involved in the brainstorming process.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” Peasley clarified.

Luigi’s face changed instantly.

His skin went from pink to red, and his jaw almost fluttered in a non-existent indoor breeze. The finger that had been messing with his moustache now haphazardly yanked it.

“Y-Your bedroom…?”

“Well, after all, it locks!” Peasley winked.

“Oh –” Luigi coughed. “Oh oh oh.”

Peasley did not say anything else. After all, while he had considerable evidence to the contrary – while they had spent most of their time together desperately trying to communicate, and satiate, this very point – there was the tiniest possibility that Luigi would find the proposition offensive and refuse.

“I- I – Really?!” Luigi finally said, grin growing through the redness. Peasley only laughed and held out his hand, in a “shall we” sort of way.

Luigi’s turn.

And Luigi, yet again hiding absolutely none of his trembling, nodded with a thrilled smile and took it.

There was no time to lose, at this point; not with the sheer everything running through Peasley’s veins and the urgency of Luigi’s imminent departure. Thus he did not walk Luigi along with him but bolted, pulling Luigi behind him, without so much as considering whether Luigi was keeping up. He did not need to, at the very least, because in terms of athleticism Peasley did have to concede that Luigi was twice the man Peasley was.

And additionally, they were both laughing with such anticipation as they ran up the stairs together that there was no room for doubt that Luigi was very much keeping up.

Which was fine, or fine enough – for Peasley felt such invigoration at sharing the emotion with him, and because there was still time for Peasley to find a way, in the manner even this bold suggestion had not, to fully undo him. Alongside other things he hoped to undo.

Luigi stumbled a bit when Peasley led him down the landing, and even more awkwardly leaned forward to knock on Peasley’s bedroom door when they got there.

“…Who are you expecting to be inside?” Peasley smiled.

“Oh-! Ah, I dunno.” He suddenly looked a little confused by his own behaviour, himself.

Peasley let it go – or, actually, he tucked the little spark of affection he felt at such adorably bizarre behaviour right into his heart, for safekeeping – and let them both in.

It was a good thing somebody had since, evidently, come to tidy the place; Peasley had left it in a bit of a state when he’d left for Cackletta’s castle, and “messy” was not exactly the impression he wanted to leave on Luigi. That was all Peasley really stopped to notice, before hanging his sword and cape onto their places on the wall, but when he turned to look at Luigi again, he had shifted into awe.

“…Luigi?”

Luigi gave the room a once-over with his gaping eyes and choked out, “this’a room is huge!”

Peasley smirked and kept leading him further by the hand. “Is it now!”

“And that bed! Wowie!” He did not say this otherwise meaningful sentence with even a drop of eroticism in his voice.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, yea! It looks really nice! Is it comfy?”

Peasley smiled wickedly. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

“Ooh, really?” Luigi’s face lit up.

Peasley did not let a single millisecond hang in the air after his “mhm” before he threw himself onto Luigi again and functionally tackled him to the bed, pressing their lips so firmly together it almost hurt.

Luigi made a sound that could only be described as the best vocal equivalent of three consecutive exclamation marks. It was not before, but at the same time as, he brought his hands back to his very first movement – one on Peasley’s shoulder and one on his hip.

Hunger seized Peasley’s heart, his mind, his muscles. So much so that he put his lack of knowledge well out of his field of consideration. After all, kissing Luigi felt so easy, so addictive.

Luigi, for his part, kept making quiet hums and giggling, smiling against Peasley’s lips every time he moved his hands. Which Peasley was doing quite a bit; he had wanted nothing more than to feel Luigi’s body all over, press his fingers and palms into his chest, have Luigi’s arms envelop him assuredly and hold the two of them together.

And stars above, his body! Even like this, covered in what felt like twenty layers of modesty and refusal to impose, Peasley would moan just from the feeling of running his fingers across his chest and stomach, or the outside of his thighs, or his upper arms, or – well, to list everything Peasley was all but devouring with his hands would be unreasonable. He was going too fast, touching too much, for it to be a particularly easy endeavour.

“I’ve been dreaming of this, ever since you got here,” Peasley half-declared, half-let-slip-out.

“Oh… oh! Really?” was all Luigi managed to get through his excitement at such words.

“Mhm.” Luigi’s reactions made Peasley feel equal parts suave and moved, so he kept going. “Heh… especially when you came and rescued me from that plant! You really did grow very tall.”

“No I’m’a not! You’r’a get all short!” Luigi laughed.

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. The point is, you’re simply so very handsome.”

Luigi squealed with his mouth closed, and eventually got out, “I! Thankyouandyou’r’averyhandsometoo! Yeah!”

He was so perfect Peasley could feel himself becoming slightly overwhelmed. Exhilaration was nothing compared to this. Luigi was so hot it made excessive improvisation an instinct. He left the conversation there and improvised more; improvised by kissing Luigi’s lips again.

And from there Peasley’s thoughts bypassed conscious perception to manifest purely as action, as touch, as sensation, sighing loudly and running his tongue ever so slightly into the corners of Luigi’s mouth to match the intensity of how his hands moved. Internal monologue morphed into nothing but I need him I need him I need him.

Peasley was nothing other than certain Luigi was feeling something in the ballpark of the same thing, for how he kept sighing and laughing and pressing their lips together mere milliseconds after they took a moment to breathe. He largely followed Peasley’s rhythm. He did not seem to think he had permission to do anything until Peasley did; only going so far as to timidly brush his hand over Peasley’s front after Peasley had all but attacked Luigi’s first.

And it was equally addictive, perhaps intoxicatingly so, to hold onto his craving for a second and pull their lips apart, just to kiss Luigi all over his face. Peasley liked to imagine that he would have, by the end, kissed every single millimetre of it. That none of Luigi would walk out of this room unkissed. When he peppered little pecks on Luigi’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, Luigi would giggle endlessly and get all hot, clutching Peasley’s face with greater excitement and, every now and again, saying his name like it was his favourite joke. He was flustered, no doubt, but while Peasley could almost smell smoke coming out of Luigi’s ears, as though he were an overworked machine, it did not prevent Luigi from escalating his enthusiasm, moving his hands to the side of Peasley’s stomach and the back of his thigh, accentuating each action with a beautiful little laugh.

“Oh, if I’d known…!” Luigi said, suddenly.

“Hm? Sorry?”

Luigi grinned more giddily, and brought his hands back to cup Peasley’s face. He had a small tear in his eye. “I’m so glad I was forced to come here! If I’d known, I’d have come running!”

“Forced to come to my bedroom?!” Peasley jolted.

“Ah! No, no, no! Yaknow I’m’a never even want ta-come to this Kingdom? I’m’a try to stay home but…”

“Really?!” The idea that a bona fide hero like Luigi had initially not intended to come here was unfathomable. He fought and adventured like he’d done it a million times.

“But but but! I’m so, so happy I’m’a come here after all!” He kissed Peasley on the cheek, just once. “It’s’a… yea! Wow!”

“Aren’t you just such a charmer,” Peasley winked, paying as little attention to his mildly vulnerable waver in his voice as he could. “It can’t be said that all visitors here get to do this!”

Luigi started to vibrate with glee. “Yes! Yes! I know! Oh, wow!”

Peasley had hoped to some extent that the shift from desperation to mild silliness might calm his enjoyment a slight, to procrastinate visible arousal and thus somehow, magically, sidestep that he had little clue how to do whatever came next. Unfortunately, Luigi was a fascinatingly erotic man. Listening to his laughter, breathy and drowning in contentment, actually made Peasley even more excited.

Such was the state of things. He wanted nothing more than to take off his clothes. Which of the pair “his” clothes referred to could not possibly have been less relevant.

To do that, however, Peasley would need to quickly get in the know of how exactly one was meant to behave, doing such a thing. He had not had a great deal of practice. His practice started and ended with kissing a certain somebody in a hall of paintings some twenty minutes ago.

Though, if there was a lesson to be learned from that, a skill practised, it was that it paid to be bold and teasing, and let Luigi figure out the rest.

So he took Luigi’s hand, both of which still holding either side of Peasley’s face, and manipulated his grip under his fingers so that Luigi was holding the string of Peasley’s belt, just in the right position to pull and untie it.

Luigi’s turn.

Luigi looked into Peasley’s eyes directly for a few seconds. Peasley could not exactly read what he was looking for, but as he got the vague sense that Luigi was, in fact, trying to read him, that very well might have explained it.

Eventually he took his turn. Not as Peasley had expected, mind. With simple words.

“… Do you want me to pull it?”

Peasley lowered his eyebrows, though it was hard to wipe the grin off his face. Perhaps he looked a bit scary, but if Luigi thought so, it wasn’t reflected in his expression. “Well, what else?”

Luigi’s turn.

“Okey dokey,” he nodded, in a manner that could only be described as graceful. As serving, as self-effacing.

“If you would like to, I mean to say!” Peasley quickly clarified.

And Luigi’s manner once again changed. It almost heated up, grew in volume. “I would really, really like to… If that’s’a okay…”

“Goodness, you’re so lovely I could just bite you!” Peasley declared cheerfully, instantly and for no compelling reason whatsoever. Besides that, Peasley realised, they were absolutely true words, but that was simply a reason full stop, rather than a compelling reason – perhaps that which had been compelling him to do so was of its other definition.

“…Oh!” Luigi did not seem to take offense. Quite the opposite, in a way that Peasley had seen on him a good few times before, if for mildly less sexual comments. Only mildly less, but less all the same. He began to chuckle excitedly.

Peasley could not quite remember whose turn it was by this point, but what he could remember was that Luigi’s hand resting in such a – such a – such an exhilarating position – was making him go a little mad. He wondered, faintly, if he had already used up all his “desperation chips” by this stage, in between kissing him to the ends of the universe and abruptly announcing that he had the urge to bite him.

“…Luigi,” he settled on saying, and not a bit more. In its open-endedness, Peasley felt similar to how he did when making a move with little rationale and, for the sake of image, staring assertively into the other person’s eyes when pressing down on his end of the chess clock.

Luigi’s turn.

He laughed quietly once more and quickly tugged.

For all the anticipation, Luigi’s doing so did not suddenly change the nature of the act; the belt unravelled and fell, like any rope might, open into Luigi’s hand, but nothing else happened besides. After all, Peasley’s clothes were just a basic overshirt. And underwear, of course, but at this point Luigi’s distance from that felt like that of several countries.

Peasley must have been so desperate that he had forgotten this basic fact, because his first thought at not becoming magically undressed from Luigi’s having done that was tinged with mild irritation.

Now what?!

For it was Peasley’s turn, if that was the formula to still be used, and for how not-naked he was, his lack of knowledge felt quite naked and bare. Maybe Luigi could tell, by this stage. If his character was any indication, he would be far too kind to say so.

Kissing. He could do that. Just once more. Then better inspiration would surely strike.

So Peasley smirked as well as he ever could – yet another skill in which he had far, far more practice – and twirled his belt around his index finger in Luigi’s palm, teasingly, before leaning over to kiss him again.

He quite liked being on top of Luigi in this way, and not entirely for reasons of pure self-image. As he tried to angle his mouth more appropriately, in the hopes it would reach a higher level of proximity and get Luigi to do his content little moan again, his hips would naturally get closer to Luigi’s body. And the sensation was unbelievable.

So unbelievable that Peasley made a shrill cry. “Oh-”

In his typical I-guess-I-can-if-you-can logic, Luigi seemed to find that permission enough to copy him. His voice was perhaps a bit lower than Peasley’s when he did so, but truly not by much.

To hear that was astonishing in just how much better it made the contact feel. It had never occurred to Peasley that hearing someone else react to your own pleasure would heighten it. Nor had it occurred to him that Luigi’s voice, or how he whined, would be quite so hot, but in Peasley’s defence, he had not known of his existence before last week. Or was it two weeks? Three?

And if we don’t do it now, we never will, Peasley suddenly remembered. Sharply, in his eyelids.

“Luigi, are you going to take your clothes off?”

“Ah-!” Luigi pulled yet another surprised face. “Is, well, is that okay? If I-?”

“It’s more than okay,” Peasley continued dramatically, before some other instinct interrupted him. “I find that you wear too much!”

Fortune fell in Peasley’s favour, as Luigi seemed to think this absolutely ridiculous sentence was a very impressive, intentional joke on Peasley’s part, and he began to laugh more loudly. His fingers shook, if with such little emphasis that it was only noticeable because Peasley remained focussed enough on Luigi to notice if a single atom had changed. And then he finally reached for his overalls’ strap hook.

Whether Luigi was doing it all that slowly, Peasley could not reliably say. But he could reliably say that it sure as anything felt as though he was, and Peasley could not quite take it.

He did not want to rip Luigi’s clothes off himself, for fear of startling him or making him feel rushed, so Peasley expended his anticipatory energy on himself, by all but throwing his own overgarment over his own head. His hair fell messily over his face from the sudden movement.

And then he and Luigi simply blinked at each other for a second.

The abrupt jolt had caused Luigi to bring his hand away from his own clothes – whoops – and stare, red-faced, right at him.

“… Oh wow! You’r’a really handsome!”

A beat.

“Um, I mean-! I’m’a mean…! Is that…? Can I say-”

Peasley flashed a smile. And flashed a bit of light into Luigi’s eyes too, perhaps, because he compulsively reached to push his hair over his shoulder, and he sensed a glint in the corner of his eye as he did.

“You’re awfully funny!”

In what was a slight surprise, Luigi reached out to place his hand squarely on Peasley’s chest; it suggested that, at the very least, Luigi had extrapolated that he could indeed say or do as he liked. He didn’t proceed to do much else, though, unless staring unsubtly and getting redder and redder in his cheeks counted.

“Whatever happened to you taking your clothes off, hm?” Peasley winked. He had become slightly envious that only Luigi was getting to do this.

The response came breathlessly, giddily. In that way Peasley was quite fortunate, that Luigi was Luigi and nobody else. “Okay!”

And Luigi gained a bit more speed as he finally – finally – pulled his straps out from under the buttons and over his shoulders. Though, he seemed to think the process was to naturally end there, as he stopped after that.

Peasley was starting to get a little too excited to put up with all this for much longer, so he pointedly put a finger under the front and made a brief, questioning “hm?”.

Luigi nodded rapidly. When he spoke, it was in a far more vulnerable whisper. “Um… p-please…”

He tilted his chin upwards and sighed erotically when Peasley tugged a little further downwards. It was as though, with Peasley finally doing something both pointedly sexual and without forcing Luigi to take the turn instead, he had allowed himself to simply melt. The overwhelming blush did not leave his face, but his features loosened, as if to relax into Peasley’s hold itself.

Peasley did his best not to kick himself for not having done it sooner, not having gotten to see him like this sooner. He had been waiting for better inspiration to strike, after all. And it had been well rewarded, in that way; the sheer excitement, turning into a commanding thud under his skin, was making Peasley get a little shaky.

 And it was for that desire that he pulled his overalls all the way down over his chest in one swipe. Much like the belt before, it was rather anti-climactic. Luigi still had a shirt on underneath, so there was not much that was new to observe. Besides Luigi’s face. It had somehow sunk further into pure submission, pure dilution into a concoction of want and patience.

Peasley kissed that face all over, for instinct’s sake, as he pulled the clothes a little further down, just over his hips and then his thighs. It was a bit-by-bit process, to make room for shaky breaths they shared and the occasional stutter in swiftness that swiped at Peasley’s muscles for the sake of mocking him.

He did not have the restraint to interrupt his progress any more than his jitters already were doing, to feel Luigi’s body properly as he went, but even as the knuckles of his thumbs pressed against the skin, he got immensely hot. Because Luigi was, well, immensely hot.

It was truly impressive, how even this, even this tantalisingly enjoyable bit, dragged on to the point of making Peasley slightly miserable.

But he made it eventually, pulling the pant legs right off over Luigi’s rather goofy socks and throwing the clothing over his shoulder. Good-bye and good riddance. Peasley heaved a sigh of release and, almost irritably, threw himself onto Luigi again, to kiss him while he worked at pulling his shirt off.

Which ended up being a rather poorly-thought-out idea, as it was impossible to do so without parting their lips to rip the shirt over Luigi’s head. Peasley was fortunate, once again, that Luigi was Luigi and nobody else, because instead of picking up on Peasley’s clumsiness, he sighed cutely – frankly, he whined – when forced to separate and hastily leaning up to kiss Peasley again when he was freed of his shirt-shaped prison.

Peasley could only process, or express, the overwhelming thrill in his head by making his kiss more intense in kind. He was doing incredibly well on that front. Peasley was a fast learner.

The urge to look at Luigi was not an ignorable one, however, and certainly not after what had felt like decades of fussing around on the bed waiting for them to reach this stage. So Peasley pushed himself off forcefully; forceful largely because it was the only way to actually compel himself away from him. Luigi showed some confusion, perhaps concern, but when he glanced at Peasley’s wide eyes, he quickly got the hint as to what was going on.

Heavens above.

“You are beautiful,” Peasley choked. “Oh my - I didn’t quite – I mean, this is absurd!”

“What’s’a absurd?!” Luigi was basically maroon at this stage. Peasley could see the blush all the way down his neck. At which point there was some hair, just a little bit, and from there a strong chest, and a round stomach and there was even hair trailing down from it to his good God, good fucking God, this man literally cannot be real.

“Luigi,” Peasley heaved, “I need you to listen to me very, very carefully. There is not a single person on this planet as handsome as you. Not even close. Have you got that?”

Luigi coughed a slight. “Uhm! Th-thank you?! I’m’a really not… much, I mean, I-”

“Do not be fucking ridiculous!” Peasley had never spoken with such bluntness, such a lack of flourish and charm, but anybody in his position would have been equally gobsmacked and then some.

And in this moment, still vibrating somewhat under Peasley’s legs, he was all his. All Peasley’s. All Peasley’s to enjoy, right now. It was enough to make Peasley drop dead.

It was also enough to make Peasley obscenely hard. Quite quickly. To the extent that, while he could not exactly sit there and describe what he intended on doing next, he knew exactly what felt good. It largely began with pushing his hips down onto Luigi’s more purposefully.

Luigi wailed. And then spoke:

“Woah-! Yes, oh yes, like that, please, please-”

Peasley wanted to stop for a second to process his surprise at what was such an overt and unprompted expression of pleasure on Luigi’s part, a marked break in his waiting-for-Peasley routine, but he could not do so. Because slotting themselves together like this and continuing to move, almost like rubbing, was splitting his skull open.

Peasley threw his head back as he shouted. Which felt rather nice, but communicated something in the realm of shock, and it was important Luigi did not get that impression. So he scraped up what resolve he had through the sheer sensation of it all and threw himself forward again, right onto Luigi’s chest, and began to kiss it. He did it hungrily and obsessively and with his tongue.

He gave saying a word a try. It came out as “nnnhn.”

Luigi began to whimper at first, and then progressively began to cry out, as Peasley grew more and more demanding with it. It didn’t matter how hard he pressed his lips onto Luigi’s skin, how deeply he rolled his hips inwards, it was never enough, never enough to be fully enveloped into Luigi’s body, his presence. Everything in him felt… tingly, and spiky.

While his constant cries and little outbursts of “yes, more, please” were more than enough for Peasley to know, Peasley still found himself muttering, “does that feel good?”

“Yes, it feels – Ah! It feels so so good!”

“I want all of you,” Peasley continued. Anything in his mind that might have acted like a filter had since been overheated and turned to sponge. “I want all of you, I want you to keep going like that for me.”

“Yes, yes, I want – I want!” Luigi answered. A bit vague, maybe, but in that moment Peasley found it slicing in its specificity.

“Off. Off.”

Luigi raised his eyebrows again and pointed to, well, the only clothes either of them still had on. Besides socks, anyway. “Th-these? Can I really-”

“Off!” Peasley snapped, begged, clawed at the skin just above the waistband: for the exhilaration was peaking, or at least, if this was not its peak, then when it went higher it would simply burst out of Peasley’s chest and through the ceiling.

Luigi gave a flustered laugh again, and even brought his lips to the side of Peasley’s face for a second to kiss it twice. And they both began to pull their own underwear off, at the same time – in such a flurry of excitement Peasley could feel his vision blur a touch.

Though, Luigi did have to wriggle out from under Peasley to do so – he actually stood up, at the side of the bed – and the deprivation of feeling him, as necessary as it might have been, was functionally a crime against humanity. He dug his fingernails into the sheets.

And then Peasley got to look, and frankly, much like the exhilaration of escaping an exploding castle, Peasley knew in that moment that people who had described the wonder of seeing something like that must have been exaggerating, because they had not seen this, and thus could never know how incredible it could truly be.

It was – it was really – big – 

“Luigi,” Peasley whispered. And nothing more.

Luigi himself looked at Peasley with a crooked smile, clearly a little embarrassed, perhaps having understood considerably more from Peasley’s tone than from his actual words.

And then he did something very peculiar indeed. He leaned down to place his hands on either side of Peasley’s abdomen and slowly, patiently, seductively, tilted them both flat against the bed again, so that Luigi was on top of him.

Peasley blinked slowly. A bit dreamily. He might have sighed, maybe moaned Luigi’s name. It was a bit hard to tell, with his mind being overloaded with how fucking hot this was.

Especially because, as a natural consequence – maybe – their crotches ran against each other again and Peasley yelled, just as their lips were about to touch. It was indeed arousing, to have literally yelled into Luigi’s mouth by accident, but he also sounded a little… dumb.

Luigi smiled sweetly, not closing the gap to finish the kiss. Instead, he whispered, “does… does that… feel good?”

For whatever reason, just that little sentence, stuttered and timid, voice low and a little scratchy, made Peasley forget how to answer with anything composed. “Haaaa!”

Whatever the hell Luigi was doing – and it truly was just continuing to have them grind against one another, but he seemed to really know the right technique – was so perfect Peasley realised there was simply no way to continue without being upfront. He needed Luigi to keep taking up the mantle, this way. Improvisation had begun to wear him out, it could be observed, and this felt so, so good that –

“Luigi, I have to tell you something!”

“Peasley, I hafta tell you something!”

They said it at the exact same time.

“…Huh?” Peasley paused.

Luigi looked at him with equal bewilderment.

“…Luigi? What did you have to tell me?”

Luigi suddenly launched off from Peasley’s body and sat at the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “I’m- I’m’a sorry, I’m’a not be honest with you!”

Peasley had to bite back a whine, though he did not manage to swallow his pout, at the sudden emptiness of contact, instead sitting up. “That’s… that’s okay! Is something the matter?”

“It’s’a… I think maybe you’r’a not want to do this if you’r’a realise that I…”

Peasley snorted. “I want to do this very much, silly!”

“But I…” Luigi blinked and looked at Peasley proper. It truly was a bit difficult for Peasley to look at his face and not his – well, his elsewhere, but he had gotten the impression that whatever Luigi wanted to say meant it was not exactly the moment to do so. He bravely looked into his eyes.

“…But I! Whadda-you wanna say?” Luigi pressed.

“No, no, you first.” After all, if Luigi had suddenly decided he didn’t want to do this anymore – a cruel fate for Peasley, but he would live, probably – then he wouldn’t have to reveal his lack of experience, and all would be kept cleanly hidden.

“No! You go first!”

“It’s truly no matter! Tell me what’s upsetting you!”

“I’m’a not upset, it’s’a that I’m’a not be truthful, and –”

“How about we take turns, hm?”

That got Luigi to raise his eyebrows more contemplatively. “Ehm… yes! Okay! But how?”

“Alright, I’ll say a word, and then you say a word, and so on. Put what you have to say into... Shall we say... Five words. How does that sound to you?”

“OK! Good! Great! Excellent!” He looked absurdly pleased.

“Of course it is!"

There were a few seconds of him glancing in the middle distance, counting mumbled words on slightly shaky fingers. Then he nodded in Peasley's direction again.

“Now, my turn…” Peasley breathed a little heavily for a few seconds, and then spoke. “I’ve.”

Luigi nodded. “I.”

“Never.”

“Actually.”

“Done.”

“Really.”

“This.”

“Like.”

“Before.”

“You.”

Peasley blinked harder, and strung Luigi’s words together. It was a bit… confusing. I actually really like you? And then what? Had Peasley misheard him?

“Sorry, Luigi, did you say that you like me?”

“I’m so sorry!” Luigi cringed. “I promise I’m’a not mind if you’r’a not feel the same, if this is’a just fun but…! I really, really like you! And I want – I would like if maybe one day we’r’a see each other again, and if that’s’a weird for you and you’r’a not want to do this because I’m’a like you that way then I’m’a sorry!”

“…Is that all?”

“Yes!”

“But Luigi… I don’t see what you’re concerned about! I like you too! That’s why we’re doing this!”

“Y-You?! Really?! Oh, I – Oh, wow…”

Peasley began to laugh. Began to double over, in fact. “Have you been trying to hide that this whole time?”

“I’m’a want to say so much but I’m’a not want you to become…! To think it’s’a gross! Because it’s’a just some fun, for you, maybe?”

“No, no, no! I mean, it is fun, but what did you think I meant when I said I’d been dreaming of this ever since you got here?!”

“I… I dunno! Of, um, sex? Maybe?!”

Peasley laughed harder. “No, of you! Look, we’re doing this rather out of order because you have to go soon, but I promise we will go on a date soon, okay? That was always the plan!”

Luigi started to chuckle cutely. “Oh, yippee!”

Yippee?! Peasley thought he was going to melt.

“Um! And! I’m’a sorry, I’m’a not really understand what you’r’a say…” Luigi smiled sheepishly. “You’r’a mean, you’r’a not kiss a guy before?”

“…I’ve never done anything like this before,” Peasley frowned, defeated. “Not once. Not with anybody!”

“Okay, but what’r’a you hafta tell me, then?”

“Er…” Peasley stared at Luigi stupidly. He did not exactly understand the question. “That’s all.”

“That’s’a all?!”

“What!” Peasley scowled. “Is that so bad? I’ve been keeping up very well, thank you very much!”

“I’m’a just think you’r’a have something serious ta-say!”

“It is serious!”

“No it’s’a not!” Luigi actually began to laugh through his words. “That’s’a… nothing! It’s’a okey dokey! Yea!”

And Peasley, without having ever noticed he was doing it, then unclenched his jaw.

“Well! That’s that, then!”

“Yea.”

A few moments of silence. Luigi leaned forward in a small increment, then quickly grabbed Peasley by the side of his face. Another brief pause. He stared rather ferociously, as if waiting for Peasley to scream or jump or get angry – and when Peasley simply softened his smile, Luigi closed his eyes and kissed him again.

Peasley fell backwards, on purpose. He couldn’t quite explain why it was so enjoyable to be under Luigi this way – he certainly wasn’t acting dominant or anything, not in the most widely understood meaning of the word. Frankly, when Peasley got him to take the reins himself it actually felt a lot like Luigi was submitting. Submitting to Peasley’s neediness, implicit demands, whatever it was.

Luigi brought his hand through Peasley’s hair and hummed more assuredly before lowering his hips again. “L-Like that?”

Peasley’s needy shout seemed to give Luigi a rough idea of his answer. He smiled so beautifully. Which made Peasley shout even louder, because just seeing it somehow made the grinding feel more intense. It was almost more emotionally overwhelming than the sheer fact that they were doing this, skin to skin, in Peasley’s bed.

And Peasley needed more, he realised. If it was to be anything like this – if it was to be better than this, as he’d come to understand was the case – it was something he needed right now, right now, right now.

“Luigi, I want more.” Let him figure out what exactly that meant.

“…What’r’a you like ta-do?” He smiled politely.

Damn it!

“What would you like to do, silly?” Peasley smirked.

“Aha, uhm, well…” Luigi moved his hand out of Peasley’s hair and scratched at his neck for a second. “You’r’a not sure? Because you’r’a… well, because you…”

“Don’t you make fun of me!” Peasley snapped, though he couldn’t prevent himself from chuckling as he did – which, at least, meant he didn’t accidentally make Luigi panic, as he was sure he would have, out of his perpetual fear of offending him.

Instead, he smiled politely again. “So you’r’a not mind?”

Peasley thought for a second. It was a little hard, with his erection so extreme at this point it prevented coherent reflection. “No. You decide! It’s your turn, surely!”

“Well! Um! Where do you keep your, um… your protection, and things?”

Peasley lowered his eyebrows.

“…My protection?”

“Mm. We can decide what ta-do after you get that! It’s’a bit easier like that, yea?”

Peasley found himself breathing in and out, manually. Deliberately.

“Oh, goodness.”

“…What? Is’a that okay? If you’r’a wanna do something el-”

“I don’t have any.”

Luigi stopped speaking instantly, and clicked his tongue instead. His arms stiffened somewhat, though he did not move off Peasley – which meant that Peasley’s sudden embarrassment was mixed with unrelenting pleasure and anticipation. A deeply bizarre feeling.

“Um.”

“Yeah…”

“Oh goodness, then we’r’a need to get some.”

Peasley smiled as confidently as his muscles allowed. “I’m sure I can just call a servant to get us something!”

“I-I-I don’t want a random person ta-know I’m’a do this!” Luigi shouted. “It’s’a… that’s’a private!”

Peasley cackled with laughter, despite it all. He really should have considered that he would say something like that.

“Then I suppose… There’s no other choice. I’ll have to go and buy us some.”

“Now…?”

“Yes, unless you happen to have it stashed away in your suitcase! Because if we don’t do it now, we never will!”

Luigi clicked his tongue again, and Peasley got the sense he was thinking something over in his head.

“Okay! Then I’ll’a come with you!”

“You know,” Peasley grinned and poked Luigi’s – very handsome – chest, and let the implicit question hang in the air.

“…I know what?”

“It’s basically our first date!”

“…Ah? Going to buy some… that’s’a our first date?”

“Why not?” Peasley smirked.

Luigi stared at him for a few more seconds, and then burst into laughter – he actually buried his head into Peasley’s chest as he did so, which did not feel sexual on its face, but unfortunately for Peasley, even that much made his body throb even harder.

As he processed that, the extension of that problem suddenly made itself apparent to him.

“Luigi, this is very fun, but I need you need to get off me.”

He reacted to this with great alarm, yelping a “yes! Sorry!”, and then launching himself all the way to the other side of the bed as if a challenge to gravity. “Is everything okay? Do you… Want to stop?”

“No, no! But we need to get dressed again to leave, and we also need to, well, calm down, if you understand my meaning,” Peasley winked.

Luigi looked directly at what Peasley was insinuating, then at himself, and nodded slowly. “Ah… Right…”

Peasley turned pointedly away from Luigi after that, and instead oriented his head fixedly in the direction of where he had thrown his clothes. They were as messily flung onto the floor as his own head felt, being in such a state before this interruption.

In his desperation to bring himself back into a non-aroused state, Peasley concentrated his thoughts solely on the unsexy, on the unLuigi; on the tunic on the floor, on picking it up and bringing it over his head, on the undergarments he slipped back on like a symbol of not-sex, on the cold floor under his feet.

“I’m realising,” Peasley spoke without looking at Luigi, for fear of needing to restart the calm-down process if he did, “that I may need to wear something else, so people don’t recognise me.”

Luigi gave a little “mhm” in response, but that was thankfully all. His voice alone might have gotten Peasley hard again – truly, things were that dire with this man.

“Maybe a scarf? A large overcoat,” he ran through ideas out loud. He could feel his body start to grant him some peace as he did so, from the sheer banality of what he was saying.

“You can hide your’a hair, maybe,” Luigi offered. Peasley thought about the words themselves, and nothing else.

“My hair… Hm…”

“It’s’a your most noticeable trait, I’m’a think, because it’s’a so shiny,” Luigi continued. “Actually, I’m’a think it’s’a really, ehm, really beautiful…”

“Ah,” Peasley buried his face into his hands. His heart started to pound. “Luigi, if you keep saying things like that we will never be able to leave this room!”

“Hm? Why?”

“You make me too excited, for goodness’ sake!” Peasley nearly cried.

“Oh…!”

Peasley bravely brought his face out of his hands and turned to look at Luigi more directly. And, as if purely to torture him, he was faced with the beautiful, awful view of a Luigi who, himself, had not even begun to get dressed yet.

“Put your clothes on!” Peasley all but snapped. “It’s never going to go down if you keep torturing me like this!”

Luigi found Peasley’s agony awfully funny, bringing his hand to his mouth and laughing at the proclamation before moving on to get his clothes from the other side of the bed. It was even more agonising that Peasley did not find his reaction rather rude but, instead, rather hot. Oh, Peasley was gone. He was a dead man.

Calm down, he looped through his thoughts, biting his lip.

“Okay! Okay. Clothes,” Peasley began to speak to himself again. “Perhaps I have a head covering in my wardrobe… But I have never thought to cover my hair! I’m too proud of it to do something like that!”

“That’s’a what I’m’a mean! Your hair is so beauti-”

“Don’t finish that sentence!”

“Ah! Sorry!” Luigi laughed again. Unfortunately, it was considerably less reasonable to ask Luigi to quit laughing until they had finished their journey and were able to start having sex once more. Instead, Peasley pressed his feet harder against the floor and thought about how not-arousing it felt to do so.

Peasley was far too aware that there was, in fact, nothing in the way of head coverings to be found in his wardrobe, but he went through the motions of walking up to it and pretending to look through with great interest.

“Alas! Nothing.”

“What if you’r’a wear my hat?”

Peasley instinctively turned around. Luigi had gotten himself dressed while Peasley had been rambling, and had at some stage wandered up behind him to speak.

“Your hat?”

“Yeah! You can tuck your hair under it. Nobody will know it’s’a you!”

“That’s… that’s quite the idea…!”

Luigi nodded cutely, and handed Peasley his little cap. “Wait a second, I’ll’a tuck your hair under it for you…”

“Okay, you do that!” Peasley could only nod, for the suggestion was excessively enticing.

“We’ll’a put it on backwards, so nobody’s’a see the letter on the front…”

Luigi put the hat on snuggly over Peasley’s head; it was actually a touch too big for him, but the snug fit came from how Luigi dexterously, if delicately, brought Peasley’s hair up and inwards. The touch was quite comforting, Peasley could faintly smell Luigi’s own scent from the hat itself, and he tensed his fists in retaliation against his instinct to sigh contently and get in the mood all over again.

“There! It’s’a perfect! You’r’a look like a villager now!”

“I’ll –” Peasley swallowed again, interrupting his speech, as Luigi flashed an innocent smile and he felt the threat of arousal ominously lurking in his skin. “I’ll find a coat as well…”

He did not pay much attention to whatever coat he ended up picking, beyond the fact that it was large and covered all of him nicely, and he paid what he hoped was an equally frivolous amount of attention to Luigi as they finally left.

Peasley had never actually been in this particular shop. It was seedy, for lack of a more polite word, and Peasley rarely went shopping himself anyway. Luigi had insisted that the other shops absolutely did not sell condoms or whatever else, and that one generally had to go to a “petrol station sorta place” instead. Peasley rather felt like he was going on an adventure, but he did not admit to that, as it would be to admit to a lack of experience with this part of his own Kingdom, and he had already admitted to a lack of experience one too many times today.

“Weeeeeeeelcome to Beanford’s General Stoooooooooooooore,” was the greeting with which they were presented when they entered. Beanford, if that was who he was, was a man who appeared exhausted with existence itself, teetering unsubtly on the edge of either sleep or death. Peasley could not tell which.

“Hi, um, we’r’a need to buy – um, where’r’a you keep, er, sexual health items?”

Beanford sighed for at least five seconds, and then looked lazily in their direction. “Whaaaat,” he sighed again, “was that, soooooon? Whaaaaaat did you saaaaay? I didn’t quiiiite hear yooooooou.”

“Er, sexual health items? Where are they?”

“I’ll tell yoooooou something, kiiiiiiiid,” Beanford continued. “My hearing’s got reaaaaaaaal baaaaaaaaad, theeeeeeeese days. I-”

“Where can we buy condoms, for Heaven’s sake!” Peasley snapped.

“- neeeeed to get my eaaaaaars checked, my kids’re aaaaaaalways telling me, ‘Daaaaaad! Gooooooo and get a heaaaaaaring test!’. But my hours are so loooooooong. I doooooon’t have the time. Soooooo youuuuu boys needa speak niiiiiiiice and looooooooooud for me.”

“Condoms! Condoms!” Peasley very nearly gestured broadly with his arms, but remembered with a half-second to spare that he needed to avoid looking or behaving too much like himself.

“Yoooooooooou need condoms?”

“Yes,” Luigi smiled, and sighed quietly. “That’s’a what we’r’a need.”

“I can deeeeeefinitely tell you where thooooooose are. I’m glaaaaaaad you came heeeeeere for that. Young loooooove is just soooooooo beautifuuuuuul. It reminds me of when I was at Hooooooooooniversity…”

Peasley pressed into his eyelids with his fingers and exhaled for a long, long time. For all his chasing of boredom, when they had been getting redressed back in Peasley’s bedroom, this overreach in monotony was an ironic sort of torment.

“…buuuuuuuut that fiiiiiiiiiine girl, ohhhhhh, she left for exchange, to the Muuuuuushroom Kingdom, dooooooo you knoooooooooow that place, boys?”

Luigi jolted an inch.

“Wheeeeeeen we said goooooooodbye, faaaaaarewell at the airpoooort! She said, sheeeee tooooooold me! I’ll be baaaaack for you! Huh! What a jooooooke! A cruuuuuel joke! I’m telling youuuuu, make sure you neeeeeeever fall for somebody if youuuuuuu might not seeeeeeee them again! You boys gooooooot that? I wooooooon’t tell you until youuuuuu promise me youuuuu got that down.”

“Um, yes, okey dokey!” Luigi stuttered.

“Oooooookay. They’re just over theeeeeeeere.”

Beanford began to move his arm achingly slowly – much more slowly than he spoke, a feat for which he could have won an award – to his right, towards a dangerously overpacked shelf that boasted boxes with no rhyme or reason to them.

Luigi ran towards it the moment it became clear where he was gesturing, and began to flick through them all with his eyes with a surprising eagerness. His gaze snagged on one of the boxes after a few moments.

“Here, I’m’a find them,” he said to Peasley. “Now we’r’a just need to buy the – the lubricant, it’s’a called?”

“… Ah, yes.”

Luigi continued his frantic eye-scanning of the little shop. And then he said, “oh, no.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“The lubricant is behind him…”

“How do you mean?”

Luigi pointed to the register at which Beanford sat – he had since fallen asleep, or perhaps died, as had also appeared to be a likelihood – and that was how Peasley was able to see that the lubricants were kept in a little cabinet on the wall behind him.

“We’r’a need to ask him to give it to us.”

Peasley offered his best laugh. “Oh, dear! We are quite the lucky couple!”

At this joke Luigi suddenly went a dark red. “C-couple! Um! Haha!”

Peasley wanted to push the joke further, to see how flustered he could make Luigi with his little implication-riddled jokes, but he was given an unpleasant reminder of the natural consequences of seeing him that way when he felt a shot of excitement in his chest. They needed to wrap up this little excursion and get home instead.

“Sir! We need you to give us one lubricant as well.” Peasley slammed his hand on the register.

“Aaaaaaah? What’s thaaaaaaat, son?”

“One lubricant!” He all but shouted.

“I seeeeeeeee! Yes, yes, aaaaaaaaalright. You just tell me which braaaaaaaaaaaaand you want. There aaaaaaaaaaaare a few types. I thiiiiiiiiink there are toooooo many options, in general, theeeeeeeeeeese days. I went to the suuuuuuuuuuupermarket the other daaaaaaaay, and there were fifteeeeeeeeeeeeen brands of tea! I cooooooounted them! I saaaaaaaaid to the fine lady wooooooorking there, whaaaaaaaat’s the deal with aaaaaaaaall this tea? And she said –”

“Any lubricant will do!”

To Beanford’s credit, he began to turn around to pick something when Peasley said this, but he continued to speak all the same. “And she said, when it cooooooomes to options, the mooooooooooore, the merrier! And I said, that’s nuuuuuuuuuuts! That’s craaaaaaaaazy!”

“How much is it?” Luigi asked.

“The teaaaaaaaa? It’d depend on what you piiiiiiiick.”

“No, no, the lubricant, and um, this box, please,” Luigi hastily placed the condom packet on the register, as if he had forgotten of its existence until this very moment.

“Now you juuuuuust wait a mooooooment, because youuuuuuu boys neeeeeed to hear these thiiiiiings. In liiiiiife, your heaaaaaaart will be set on something, and you’ll want it reaaaaaaaaaally bad. And you’ll want it sooooooooooo much and soooooooo fast. But soooooooometimes? The universe says noooooooo. And it says stoooooooop. Slooooooow down.”

“Is that right!” Peasley spat.

“And sooooooometimes the man upstairs’ll saaaaaaaaay that youuuuuuu will have to be apaaaaaaart from the things you waaaaaant. Maaaaaaaybe even the peeeeeeeople you want. But looooooove finds a waaaaaaay. Thaaaaaat’s what they say. When I was yooooooour age –”

Luigi abruptly, suddenly, and with no visible embarrassment, threw a very large sack of coins onto the tabletop and wrenched the lubricant box out of Beanford’s hands.

“Thank you very much! That’s’a all we’r’a need! Bye bye!”

And he grabbed Peasley’s hand and bolted, without so much as considering whether Peasley was keeping up.

Peasley had found himself rather attached to his little getup, even once they’d made it back home. Or, rather, he was attached to the hat. He felt almost cosy in it.

He fantasised about keeping it on, if not literally during sex then perhaps later, perhaps while out and about, perhaps when they were on little dates together. He also fantasised about Luigi tenderly lifting it off for him and kissing his face. There was a lot, Peasley realised, they needed to try. For all his concern about “if we don’t do it now, we never will”, Peasley had become fiercely aware that there was to be no universe in which they did not see each other again. Not if Peasley had any say in the matter, and, well, Peasley always had a say in the matter.

“…Peasley?”

“Ah?”

They had made it to Peasley’s bedroom door. Which was news to him.

“You can open the door, you know! Or would you prefer to knock on it again?” Peasley cackled.

“Ah, it’s’a not that, I can’t, um, open it.”

“What?”

“It’s’a… locked?”

“That’s ridiculous. Have you tried just pushing-”

Peasley took the handle himself to push demonstrably hard, and the door did not yield.

“…What?”

“Is there someone in there?”

“It’s my room! Even if there were, that doesn’t mean it would be locked-” Peasley found himself, with no real extravagance, giving the door a cruel kick. It did not open from that, either, but he heard, after a few good seconds, an abrupt and loud thud from the other side.

“Who’s in there?” Peasley snapped. The panic was dulled to uselessness by the sheer confusion, though something far sharper could be felt in his hastiness.

“Maybe it’s’a just stuck…”

Peasley made a noise of irritation and tried the handle again – with a sort of cold anger one might have reserved for poorly performing subordinates, as if to assert to the door that he’d like to have a word with it. Perhaps that scared the door into some level of action, because it swung open some twenty centimetres and then abruptly stopped again.

“Huh? Hello?” Peasley called.

In response, this time, there was a voice.

“Lottie, you left the vacuum in front of the door!”

“Oh, right.”

There was a bit more discussion Peasley couldn’t make out, but it lacked much urgency or even concern. He turned to Luigi, to be met with an impossibly red, impossibly petrified face. While he couldn’t quite make sense of what on Earth would cause such a visceral reaction, it compelled Peasley to be a little more forceful anyway.

“Hello! Let us in!”

Luigi made a yelp. When Peasley looked at him again, all he could gather was that something was making him cringe. Quietly, he muttered, “are you alright?”

“Who’s’a in there!” Luigi whispered frantically.

“Cleaners, I suppose? Clumsy ones, at that, it would seem.”

“Cleaners?! B-But-”

Peasley had been about to ask Luigi what was so mortifying about that, but was instead interrupted by the door in front of them swinging all the way inwards.

“Your Highness, do excuse us.”

There was no need to even look at Luigi for Peasley to feel him shaking next to him. “Luigi,” Peasley began, “are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

The prompting was clearly the wrong move – though Peasley could not even begin to guess why – because Luigi gave a staccato scream and then, after covering his mouth, stared back at the woman in the doorframe as if she were about to eat him alive.

She clearly had other plans. “Linnie,” she called over her shoulder, “how much longer until the bed’s finished?”

The bed. It made sense; he and Luigi had necessarily messed it up to some extent before leaving, and rarely did even such minor displacements go untidied in Peasley’s absence. Compared to the gratitude of his being able to take Luigi to a clean room before, to come home in such a rush to crash into this new wall was not particularly welcomed by Peasley.

The other woman, who was unfolding a bedsheet in the middle of the room with no great swiftness, answered in a similarly unperturbed tone. “Not long. Please come in and pretend we’re not here, Your Highness.”

“How long is not long? Surely you can’t be spending all that much time simply smoothing the sheets out.”

Lottie spoke up. “The sheets are likely dirtied, your Highness, so we chose to change them.”

At this, Luigi screamed unprompted for a millisecond once more. Peasley snapped his head towards him. “Luigi, whatever is the matter?”

“Um!” And then he smacked his hand over his mouth again.

“We can work around you,” Lottie said, walking back to the bed herself as she spoke. “You can use the bed in the meantime if you wish, Your Highness.”

“Please don’t’a tell anybody!” Luigi abruptly yelled.

Peasley clicked his teeth. The words, the absolute non sequitur, punched through the dull air and left silent confusion in its wake. Linnie and Lottie even paused to glance at Luigi for a moment, before turning back to their tasks as if he had, following those few seconds, ceased to exist.

“Sorry, what do you mean?” Peasley pressed. “What do you not want me to tell anybody?”

“No, no, I’m’a not speak to you, I’m’a mean that these… these… they think we’r’a already-! The whole point was that it’s’a private!”

Peasley stared at him dumbly for a few seconds.

“Er… I’m afraid I don’t see what you mean.”

Luigi looked around the room frantically, rubbing his hands together, as if trying to find a mortally dangerous but near-invisible insect.

“It’s’a…! But what if they say something and…!”

“The cleaners?”

“Yes!”

Peasley’s mind fully blanked. “What would they even be saying? Everybody already knows you’re in this Kingdom.”

“They’r’a say the sheetses are likely dirtied!” Luigi finally snapped, grabbing Peasley’s shoulder and squeezing it as if for emphasis.

“…So?”

They were interrupted – though it would be hard to consider it an interruption, what with Luigi being so red and panicked that it was hard to imagine he had any words left in him – by a loud cough from Linnie and Lottie’s direction. Peasley could not stop himself from whipping his head towards the sound.

From that, though, nothing else followed, and he turned to look at Luigi again. “Luigi, tidying the room is their job! You can just ignore them.”

“As a matter of fact, we’re just finished now.”

Peasley turned his head again. He had not once in his life ever had anybody inform him of their having finished cleaning, but perhaps they had gathered it was important to do so for Luigi’s sake.

Lottie – or so Peasley was relatively sure, perhaps it was Linnie – continued to suggest as much. She even gave what could only be construed as a soft smile. “So we’re off. You don’t need to worry, Master Luigi.”

“Um-um-um!”

They made so as to pack up their things and leave very quickly after that, not doing any more abnormally attention-drawing behaviours, and Peasley could only hear a faint, but quite enthused, burst of laughter the door once they closed it behind them.

And with that, they were alone again. Which seemed to be quite important to Luigi.

Luigi, as it were, was still shaking a little, as Peasley could feel on his shoulder. He brought his own hand on top of it to run his fingers over it, in a soothing kind of motion. “Are you alright? You seem awfully worked up about them cleaning my room.”

“It’s’a because they’r’a know we’r’a about to – no, they think we’r’a already have sex!”

Peasley snorted. “Why would they think that?”

“That’s’a why they’r’a change the sheets!” He very nearly screamed it.

“…Ah?”

Peasley chewed his lip, chewed on the words he was hearing a bit more. Eventually, he spoke again. “I suppose that might be the case, yes! You’re so very perceptive, aren’t you?”

Luigi’s face transitioned from panic to rather enthused shock. “Um! A-ah-ha-ha… Do you think so?!”

Peasley winked and, sensing a sort of tilt in the air – one in the direction he very dearly needed – he moved his other hand into Luigi’s hair. “Of course I do!”

He seemed to get the hint. There was a twinge of desperation in his voice when he answered, beaming all the while, “ah…! Well, um… um… do you… um…”. Which was rather fortunate, seeing as the words themselves communicated little.

It was enough for Peasley to consider the matter closed and decided to close the gap between them, instead. Their lips meeting again was, for the overpowering need to do it right now, less like simple contact and more like a collision.

Luigi didn’t emit any sounds of surprise this time; instead he moaned loudly, pointedly and instantly. And then his hand found the hat he had so carefully entrusted to Peasley and lifted it off. Peasley whined a bit. Just quietly. He didn’t have to lament that for too long, however, as Luigi then threaded his hand right through Peasley’s hair, curling it around his fingers, turning Peasley’s head upwards and bringing him closer.

It was a mind-blowingly sexy move. Peasley didn’t even really need to stop and process it, because his body did it for him.

“Luigi,” he found himself whispering against his lips. He came close to simply leaving the sentence there, as he had done so before, but something about the interruptions up to this point made elaboration a piercing necessity. “We need to do this now!”

Luigi just moaned again, with a bit more force, and then sat himself on the bed. He held onto Peasley’s hands on either side and grinned. Not even all that awkwardly, this time – though his face was still an endearing pink.

Peasley virtually threw the overcoat to the other side of the room before virtually throwing himself – no, quite absolutely throwing himself – onto Luigi’s lap, resting his legs on either side of his hips, and quickly going in to kiss him again.

Kissing this way was nice, too. There was that achingly lovely feeling once again from where their hips met, which was sorely needed, but Peasley found himself more focussed on everything that came with it, this time. How intimate it felt when they stopped to breathe in unison for a half-second, or how Peasley was finally level enough with Luigi to be rewarded with a kiss under his jaw every so often.

Luigi’s face didn’t feel hot in the way that evoked an overworked machine anymore. Granted, everything remained excessively warm in a vaguer sense. His bedroom had become a sauna in his absence, clearly.

There was no trembling to be felt, this time, when Luigi’s fingers lightly traced up from Peasley’s hand to his side.

And Peasley communicated his agreement by sliding his fingers under his right overall strap and humming loudly into his mouth and –

“But you are scatterbrained!”

“Linnie! Stop it! You know I’m insecure about that!”

That was all there was for forewarning before the door declared itself open with an uncharacteristic screech.

The voice plummeted once more into serving aloofness when it said, “your Highness, do excuse us. One of us left our notepad here by mistake.”

“It fell out of my pocket,” the other one corrected, before clearing her throat.

Peasley did not turn his head around. He didn’t move at all. His eyes were soldiers called to attention, but solely in attention towards Luigi’s face; that face was wide-eyed and hot like an overworked machine and betraying a mild hyperventilation akin to the very same.

“Simply ignore us once more, your Highness,” the other one – Linnie? If Lottie was the one who dropped her book – continued. Her voice was much closer, now. “We will be very quick to find it.”

Luigi coughed in the closest way a cough had ever been to a scream in all documented history. Peasley, for his part, instinctively tensed and thus tightened his grip around the parts his hands had hitherto been holding. Which was, had Peasley given himself the time to consider it, a little backwards. Neither of them moved. Which was also a little backwards.

Linnie crouched under a table opposite the bed and said in a low, detached voice, “have you considered putting your things in the same place every time, so you don’t forget where you put them?”

“Yes,” Lottie answered with equal implied disinterest. “But then I forget where that place is.”

Luigi’s eyebrows were moving in a new direction for every syllable uttered. Peasley couldn’t be certain his own weren’t doing the same. Their faces really were very close to one another.

“You could write a note so you can remember.”

“I already have, but it’s in the notepad.” Lottie started looking behind the curtains.

“It’s just the same thing, over and over, is the problem. It wastes time when you keep losing things. Do you remember when we were on repairs, and you lost that wrench? Even though it was as big as you.”

“It doesn’t happen that often!” Lottie’s voice spiked into investment. Luigi had tears in his eyes, by this point. “Just shut up and keep looking!”

Linnie sighed before speaking in a slightly higher volume, if with even less engagement in her tone. “Your Highness, please continue to do whatever you need to do as though we are not here. It is not our intention to disturb you.”

“Do not be fucking ridiculous!”

“Understood. Our apologies.”

There were exactly twelve seconds of agonising silence. Though, the agony was largely due to how it was, in fact, not complete silence. Luigi’s hyperventilating was keeping the atmosphere just the wrong amount of anxious. Despite this, he did not seem to get the idea to move neither his hands, nor himself more generally.

Linnie had introduced herself next to their bed to check down the sides. The bedside table had two books on it underneath a vase of gaillardias, which she lifted up without asking, before investigating the books rather thoroughly.

“Your Highness, you may be sitting on the notepad,” she concluded.

“Hm?” Peasley responded dumbly. He didn’t even turn his face away from Luigi to do so.

“Or, rather,” she paused for a moment, “it is not you sitting on it, but Master Luigi.”

There were exactly twelve seconds of agonising silence. Its imperfection was due this time to how Luigi punctuated it with a trembling, ominous noise in his throat. A scream of embarrassment that was still boiling on the fire.

“Master Luigi, do forgive our imposition, but may we ask you to stand up for a moment?”

Luigi jolted upwards the moment the sentence was spoken, with no forewarning. Peasley fell backwards. His back hit the floor.

“Hm,” Linnie’s tone remained untethered, “yes, there it is. Thank you, Master Luigi.”

“Please lock the door behind you when you’r’a leave please-thank you!” He wailed in response.

And when he did, it felt as though the silence, which had become so agonising from Luigi’s repressed expressions of pure terror, thinned out. When Peasley began to laugh heartily, the smallest tear in his eye, he felt the floor against his body in all its blunt realism.

He heard, through the sound of his own irrepressible laughter – laughter that grew so intense it ended up becoming silent – the door closing, and then Linnie and Lottie’s voices.

“You did not handle that well! Hahaha!”

“What else was I supposed to even do, huh? All that for your stupid fucking notepad.”

There were other words spoken, but they grew distant and unintelligible after that. Peasley kept giggling.

It was interrupted – though interrupted was not truly the word, as a little laugh still escaped him as it happened – by Luigi crouching down with eyes and mouth so wide they constituted his entire face.

“I’m so so sorry! I’m’a not mean ta-do that but they’r’a just say stand up and I-”

“Oh, shush! Just pick me up and do this right now, and all is forgiven!”

“D-do th-th… yes! Yes, okay, ahem...!”

Luigi lifted him up by the waist of all things, which was as unexpected as it was painfully hot, and Peasley found himself swiftly laid on top of Luigi atop the bed with sheets that had just been so kindly changed for them.

“God, you are so hot!” Peasley giggled. “How do you do that?”

Luigi flushed, despite how much embarrassment remained painted on his skin from before. “Oh, I – it’s’a not so hard, I – I’m’a mean, you could, I’m’a sure, but I’m’a not mean that if you can’t then it’s’a because you can’t do easy thingses, I’m’a mean to say –”

Alright, enough of that. Peasley kissed him quickly to shut him up.

Though it certainly did on the level Peasley had aimed for, it did not actually shut Luigi up outright, because he kept humming and sighing and giggling as Peasley went on, pushing his tongue further inwards to convey his need. Once again, which of the two “his” tongue or “his” need referred to could not possibly have been less relevant. For all the pointedness, the extreme purpose to it all, there was a notable lack of direction. Luigi’s nose kept accidentally pressing against Peasley’s face a bit too hard, when they incidentally tried to escalate at the same time; they tried to put their hands on one another’s sides and collided instead.

There was a searing victory, in how Luigi did not stop to say sorry when it happened.

Things came off, fast. If the anticipation had been dipped in nerves before, this time it was dipped in starvation. Peasley absolutely did not bother with the belt song-and-dance this time. He nearly tore his clothes from how quickly he yanked them off himself, and Luigi quite eagerly followed – insofar as he could, but the process of him taking off his clothes was so unnecessarily involved – and while Peasley had truly not gone a great deal of time without having seen him undressed, the rush was identical.

Luigi didn't even look all that embarrassed. Though he really seemed to like just doing whatever Peasley did first, he was also running his fingers more pointedly over Peasley's skin - his chest, his abdomen, his back, his hips. Not anything dirtier - really, he behaved as though anything below that was not right there in front of him - but the obsession in his eyes felt delightfully dirty.

Eyes which looked up at Peasley from time to time and would, in turn, be followed by a slight trembling in his hands, a jolt of uncertainty in what he was doing.

“You like?” Peasley smirked.

“Ah- er, yes... You'r'a very smooth.”

Luigi's hand froze where it had been trailing the side of Peasley's stomach the moment he said it.

“That's'a super weird thing ta-say! Ehm...”

“To the contrary!" Peasley could feel his expression morph into something not all that controlled. His chest rearranged his intended sentence on its way out. “If you... If you like it...”

“Mhm! I love it! I love-” he paused. “I love it, I love it! I'm'a always think you'r'a so handsome, because you'r'a look... Er... Um...”

Peasley leaned his face in a bit closer and grinned, just to make himself give a more refined, suave impression. “Yes? I look what?”

Luigi laughed cutely. “I don't... It's'a weird. Um. I think you'r'a just look... Perfect...?”

Peasley bit his lip and wondered how soon was too soon to promise Luigi all the stars in the universe.

“Ehahahah! Well! It's not as effortless as I make it seem!”

Luigi, who had until that moment been shaking as he delivered his masterful sonnet, burst into laughter. When he began to move his hand again, the trembling was gone.

“I like...” he traced a vague circle around Peasley's left collar bone with his thumb, “... this...”

“Hm? What do you mean by 'this'?”

“I mean, um, I just like how you, how it looks...” Luigi blushed. “And, er...”

It was a magical contrast, in how he moved his head up suddenly yet slowly, letting his hand hold onto Peasley's shoulder from under his arm, and planted some kisses right on the part he had circled. It started chaste, at first, but by the third or fourth time he didn't let off for a good while, his lips doing everything that felt like suction besides suction outright. Peasley only opened his mouth a slight and exhaled, holding his head with his hand to keep him steady.

And then Luigi started to trail his mouth further upwards to Peasley’s neck. It was all done with this undertone of curiosity. Of reservation, too, of course, but it was not implicit in hesitation so much as it was in his softness, his slowness.

“And…” he breathed the words, not truly interrupting his little endeavour as he did, “I like…”

He finally began to actually suck on the skin after that. Peasley whined louder. He truly couldn’t tell if Luigi was doing all this out of genuine desire to run his mouth over bits he claimed to “like”, or if he was just a champion of pretending to think so innocently while very deliberately making Peasley his needy little idiot.

Luigi’s teeth made contact, not in any venture to bite but as if to simply let Peasley know they were there, and Peasley let out, “I like that.”

“Mm,” Luigi answered. “And…” his index finger started travelling again, to Peasley’s chest, “I like…”

Peasley released another sigh, but that was far from the most remarkable thing in that moment, because at the very same time Luigi looked up at him from the crook of Peasley’s neck said more loudly, “this is’a little hard under here… Let’s’a just…”

And he quite swiftly turned Peasley over, so they were lying side-by-side, looking level at each other. Kind of like lovers in the morning. It was quite delicious, and quite ingenious of Luigi to do that much for the both of them before he had to go, as waiting for the next opportunity to indulge in that fairy tale was not something Peasley intended on doing.

“I like…” Luigi whispered into his ear, “this…”

He moved his head further down, to where he had faintly circled on Peasley’s chest, and began to kiss there, as well. He was doing it softly, to be sure, but it felt equally intentional, and there was not much in the way of nervousness to be detected either. Peasley’s growing smile was framed with warmth in his cheeks, as much as he felt a touch embarrassed to realise as much.

“I like it, I like it,” Luigi continued. “I like you, I like you! I like how you look, and how you sound, and – is’a that weir- no, I’m’a just… I do, I like it!”

Peasley pictured himself poking Luigi’s nose and cackling and reciting a poem in response. Instead, he groaned in a way that hid precisely nothing and, somewhere in between, uttered “Oh, I like that…”

Luigi started to get a little more focussed in where he was using his mouth. He moved to Peasley’s right nipple, the one further away from the bed, and quite resolutely began to lap at it. Even then, even with each little sound of arousal he would make as his mouth opened further, even with how Peasley cried out from the spike in sensation, Luigi’s face was so innocent.

“Oh, I like it!” Peasley yelled. “I like that, like that, do it like that!”

The request was heartily understood and fulfilled, and Luigi’s tongue started to pick up the pace, and he even licked his finger briefly before moving it to the other nipple and, if slightly less purposefully, rubbing that one too.

Peasley could feel shots of something very dangerous indeed going straight to his groin, and Luigi’s face was beginning to drown in that submissive, patient pleasure again, and his dick was pressing into the inside of Peasley’s thigh, so close and so evocative, and all just so good, how splendid, what a thrill – 

“Oh, fuck! Fuck!”

Luigi giggled at the screech. “I think you’r’a really beautiful… like that…”

“Hnnnnn-” Peasley could only look at Luigi’s face, rather than say anything else, though even that was a challenge because the stimulation felt so overwhelming that Peasley’s eyes were starting to flutter open and shut.

And where desperation for some level of composure – after all, Peasley did not know if he was meant to be enjoying this so much, if it spoke to his amateurdom to be behaving this way – collided with desperation for Luigi, in the broadest of senses, there was something of a realisation in his mind.

If he doesn’t stop, he will make me come like this, right now.

That would not be nice. Well, actually, it would be extremely nice, the nicest thing Peasley had ever felt, but that was not at all how he wanted this to go.

And, to be frank, Peasley was not particularly interested in being the first one to orgasm, either. Whatever happened to Peasley getting the satisfaction of knocking Luigi for six? To seeing that face so submitted to want, to Peasley showing him how easy it was, how easy it was to love him. He could do it, he could do it, he could do it.

“Luigi, Luigi, haaa-” he tried again “-stop for a second-”

That request, too, was heartily understood and fulfilled, though not without Luigi making a face of concern.

“It’s my turn, my – my darling,” Peasley stuttered a slight. He had called Luigi that before, if maybe not with him being aware of that, but it still caught in his throat for a second.

“Oh, oh…” Naturally, Luigi just beamed, and blushed into the extremities of maroon, rather than question it, which was fortunate.

“I like…” Peasley began, and he winked, as he moved his hand right onto Luigi’s dick, holding it and going along it slowly. If Luigi was too shy to be so forward with Peasley about it, Peasley sure as anything was not. “…This…”

Luigi yelled. “Oh! Like that!”

“You’ll let me suck it, won’t you?”

“Aaah- would you? Would you? Please?” Luigi stammered.

“Lie down.”

“I’m’a… we’r’a already lie down!”

Peasley snorted. “No, handsome, I mean lie down. Flat!”

“Okay!” Luigi complied, beaming to the ends of the universe as he did, hands resting on Peasley’s hips. Though, he had to let go as Peasley reoriented himself on top and downwards in kind, with their knees lining up.

Peasley took a solid few moments to just sort of observe the thing. It was of course not all that foreign an object – Peasley was quite fortunate that Luigi was Luigi and nobody else – but it was deeply arousing to simply look. It stiffened upwards a slight under the scrutiny, though Peasley’s atomic focus was to thank for his noticing that, as it had already been hard to the near-breaking point.

There were two equally urgent desires, and Peasley was not sure whether it was possible to couple the two into one game plan. Luigi needed to be knocked for six. Peasley needed to succumb to the craving, quickly and maniacally. The latter did not exactly care whether the former happened. And vice versa. The forces, being equal and opposite, resulted in a collision wherein nothing moved. Or, rather, wherein Peasley did not move.

“P-Peasley… is it… um… okay?”

“Okay? What would be wrong with it?”

“Well, you’r’a just sorta not doing anything… and staring…” he coughed, “does it, er… look… weird?!”

Peasley cracked up. “No! I’m just good at artistic appreciation. Let me enjoy the view. Be patient!”

“Patient…” Luigi whispered. “I-I um, I’m’a not think I… I need you to… Can you please?”

The laughter continued. “Need, you say? You need this? Hm?”

Luigi’s voice went much higher. Easily by an octave. So did his hips. “Ahhh… uh-huh… and when you’r’a laugh I can… I can feel it! It’s very-!”

In what was incidentally quite evil indeed, Peasley kept laughing. “I like it very much when you beg.” Which was a shame. Because to enjoy it so much was to make Peasley so horny he could hardly hear his own voice as he spoke, was to aggrandise in equal measure the force of needing to make Luigi lose his mind and that of needing to do this quickly –

“Please!” Luigi screamed. His voice cracked and everything.

“I love you so much when you beg!” Peasley yelled in turn – the words and his whiny tone were fully out of sync with each other.

“Please!”

That was it. Peasley moved mouth right onto his dick without considering the plan of action. He ended up with about half of it in his mouth and down his throat – look, it truly was that big – with his tongue trapped between it and his teeth. He wanted, logistically, to wait for a reaction or at least look up at Luigi’s face, but for absolute explosion of desire he instead closed his eyes, moving his head up and lapping at the underside with his tongue.

“Nnnngh,” Luigi groaned.

“Oh, my darling,” Peasley responded. “Keep going like that for me!”

“You keep going! Please!”

With permission granted – ironic, seeing as it came in the form of pleading – to do what he needed to do, Peasley put all his gusto into it, finally managing to get the full thing into his mouth.

“Hmmm-! Yes! Yes! I like that! Like that!”

Was it easy? It felt sort of easy. To be sure, it felt like his entire body was being overtaken by how it felt, like it was not just in his throat but in his core. But it felt so good, to be fucked that way. “Fucked” because, again, Luigi was so big it was hard for it to feel like anything else, but more because Luigi had gotten so worked up from it that he had begun to move his hips with guiltless abandon.

Peasley liked to imagine he would have said sorry, had he not been so shattered by the feeling that he had lost that sense of shame. That was what was probably why it felt so good.

Peasley pulled his head upwards and grinned.

“Hnn- Please-”

“You want me to keep going? Hm?”

“Please-”

“Then grab it with both hands and take it!”

Fuck me, Peasley hoped he left laced in the words. Fuck me harder.

Luigi opened his eyes wide and stared at him. “But I… that’ll hurt you-”

“Who do you take me for? Someone who couldn’t do something so basic? Hah!”

“B-basic?! No, it’s’a not basic, it’s’a very very painful, you’ll’a not like-”

“No, this is easy!” Peasley smiled wickedly. “I’m great at this! And I can definitely handle it, so fuck my mouth. Hard.”

“No! I’m’a not wanna hurt you! Just do it like… like you wanna! B-but please just keep going!”

Peasley huffed. He could tell, in the way his voice flattened, that Luigi wasn’t going to budge on this. It would have been easy to frame this as him doubting Peasley’s capabilities, but it was easier to recognise that it was purely his carefulness and his tenderness, so embedded in his subconscious that it hadn’t switched off just because his frontal lobe had.

“Alright!” Peasley conceded. “But stop thinking you have to be so… polite. Go a bit harder. Enjoy it. Okay?”

“I am enjoying it!”

Peasley giggled, pausing just before his lips pressed against the tip. “Awh, are you?”

“P-Peasley… p-please, please, keep going…”

And Peasley lowered his voice to a whisper, making a point of making his exhale forceful as he did, as much as it could be without him blatantly blowing onto it. That was quite certainly not why they were called blowjobs, but perhaps therein lay a clever hint. “Is that what you want?”

“Please… please, I can feel it when you- when…!”

“Mm, yes. Does it feel good?”

“Yes, yes, please keep going, please!”

“Do you want me to?”

“Pl- hnnnnnnn-”

“Mm? Is that right?” Peasley took Luigi’s hands and carded them through Peasley’s hair, delicately. Or, at least, delicately enough to hopefully give Luigi the idea that he could do what the motion implied without “hurting” him.

It seemed to work, seeing as Luigi gasped a little, and then sighed, “uh… ar’a you mean it about... um…”

“About moving my head?” Peasley whispered, with as much breath as he could manage. He felt a bit lightheaded from it by this stage, though it was possible that was just because all the blood had left his head and gone to his dick anyway.

“Haaa-! C-can I? Move your… please…”

“Do it!”

Luigi yelled once more and then – finally, for God’s sake! – slammed Peasley’s head right down with both hands.

Peasley’s subsequent groan of exhilaration ended up sounding really dumb, but that was in and of itself delightful. How nice it was, to have gotten what Peasley had wanted, and how nice it was, to be so wholly destroyed this way, by a Luigi who had in turn started to scream like his soul had just ascended.

“Oh, oh, I like th-aa-aa-at!” Luigi whined.

I like that too, Peasley answered mentally. He didn’t even get to answer with an action, because he was fully under Luigi’s grip now. Literally. He was salivating so much that, while there hadn’t been much to call friction between them before, at this point it was sliding in and out as Luigi moved with such ease it hardly constituted its own action.

Peasley could feel a couple of tears streaming down his face in reflex, but only foggily because he could feel much more violently that his dick was aching, as though it was actually angry at him. It was likely angriest at how it was being rubbed against Luigi’s leg – which had begun to kick a little by accident – and the bedsheets. Peasley ran his own hand along it. Purely instinctively, of course, but like all similar instincts it did not necessarily soothe the thudding. In fact, it just made it worse.

“Y-You feel-” Luigi hacked, “really good, really, really good!”

Peasley yelled hotly as an answer, and it could be heard with some level of clarity, just from how wide he’d had to open his mouth during the process.

Luigi copied it.

That, that was too much. Peasley could feel his erection starting to drain his brain of any thought whatsoever, and in a final act of it-cannot-end-like-this, he pushed his head back with enough energy that it pushed against and out of Luigi’s hold.

“Ha-”

Luigi opened his eyes again, which were now dotted with tears, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“-oh- oh, Peasley, I’m’a tell you that it’s’a hurt! I’m’a sorry! I’m’a not sure what I’m’a was thinking…”

“No, that’s not it,” Peasley chuckled. “I told you, it’s very easy. But rather, I think we’d best move on, hm? That can’t be all you want to do.”

Luigi smiled politely. His lips trembled a bit, this time. And his entire body was shuddering besides, as Peasley could recognise as being from a near-climax denied. It was some sort of superhuman skill that Luigi could be so submissive despite it. Had it been Peasley in that position, he likely would have punched the wall.

“What’r’a you… wanna… haaa-” He sighed suddenly, jolting, presumably from the spike of pleasure as it faded away. “Oh! Uhm, wanna do…”

“What do you want to do?” Peasley grinned.

“Whatever… you like…”

This was starting to get a bit ridiculous. “Luigi, what do you want?”

“I’m’a already have what I’m’a want! It’s’a your turn! Right?”

“No, that was what I wanted! I basically had to drag you kicking and screaming into it!” That much was true, though the kicking and screaming in question was different to what the turn of phrase implied.

“You’r’a… you’r’a like that?”

“Oh, I’ve never done anything I don’t want to do,” Peasley flipped his hair. “What a frightful thought. There’d be no purpose to being a Prince otherwise, now would there?”

“Um…” Luigi chuckled a little bit. “I-I mean… Well! Do you want to do… m-more? Like, um, we’r’a buy condoms, and um, lubricant, so…! Yea?”

Peasley flashed a dazzling smile. “Well, well, well! See? Telling me what you want wasn’t so hard as all that, was it!”

“No, no, I’m’a was asking you if you want ta-do that!”

Peasley promptly frowned again. Or, rather, he attempted to, but it was so endearingly funny that his eyebrows lowered to clash with his adoring smile, and he thus just looked like something between smitten and perplexed.

“You’re really quite set on this what-do-I-want business, aren’t you?”

“Yea!” Luigi just exhaled happily and nodded. “I’m’a wanna make you happy, yaknow? I, I like when you sound… yaknow… happy…” The last word was spoken like a paradox, to be so overt and so euphemistic at once.

Peasley snorted, but decided to indulge him. “Hahaha! But my darling, you’ve already been so wonderful for me already!”

Luigi jolted. “Oh- yes, I- ahem. Um. I mean. Thank you! I mean, um, you’re welcome? But also thank you!”

“You know what would make me really happy?” Peasley readjusted where he was sitting so that, while he was still on top of Luigi with his legs kneeling on either side, he was straddling his hips instead of further down. Their dicks rubbing against one another was a natural and expected consequence, but Peasley had somehow not realised it was going to feel as nice as it did, and he accidentally lost track of what he was about to say. “Hmmm.”

“What would make you happy?” Luigi prompted in a low voice. “We can do it!”

Good thing Luigi was still switched on – though it was also a bad thing, for overall knocking-for-six reasons. Peasley bit his lip and attempted to caress Luigi more pointedly, but his hand shook a bit under the pressure of fuck-that-feels-nice.

“I want you to fuck me,” Peasley finally managed. The speech failed to meet the criteria of being something that would stun Luigi, but at this point, Peasley was deeply impressed with himself for even managing that.

… And Luigi still looked awfully stunned. And sounded it, because he moaned and, with a mighty effort, said, “you, you do?”

“Yes, I want you to do it hard.”

“Ah?” He didn’t say anything further. Didn’t move. Didn’t start to fuck Peasley senseless right then and there.

For goodness’ sake. Getting to this point felt like it had taken days, and here was Luigi refusing to get to the point. “Luigi! Are you going to do it?! Would you do it for me?! If we don’t do it now, we never will!”

Luigi sat up straight as if a lever had just been pulled, like he was a puppet and Peasley’s words had strings connected to his limbs. He stared at Peasley intently and said, “but if I… you’ll’a not like it… it’ll… hurt…”

“Not this again! Do not be fucking ridiculous!”

“…Ah…” Luigi nodded a little shyly, smiled a little affirmatively, an apprentice being corrected on a minor but embarrassing mistake. “Okay, because I think I’d. Er. Like that!”

Peasley prepared to think of some other, even suaver way to word “hurry the fuck up then”, but he did not end up needing to do so, because Luigi very suddenly kissed him and pushed Peasley back onto the mattress.

Woah.

It was hungry and satiating all at once, and rather deliberate. Peasley was keeping up, thank you very much, but barely.

“Where’s the stuff?” was all Luigi whispered.

“Haaaahahaha…” Peasley whined. “Mm, it’s on the floor… with your clothes.”

Luigi raised his eyebrows. “Ah!” And then he vanished, grabbing his own discarded outfit with great vigour and promptly re-appearing on top of Peasley. His legs were, funnily enough, kneeling on either side of Peasley’s thighs, straddling his hips and cruelly allowing their dicks to meet again. Luigi seemed just the right level of bothered about that, but Peasley couldn’t stop whining. He sounded dumb dumb.

Which was fantastic.

“You’r’a know what, er, preparation is?” Luigi asked, all gentlemanly.

“Ehhahahahaha! Do I know what preparation is? Luigi, my darling, I wasn’t born yesterday!”

“Well…! It’s’a okay if you don’t. You’r’a say you’r’a never-”

“Oh, do be serious! And do hurry up, would you? I- Oh, as it happens indeed! I have a plug for that! We can use that.”

Luigi choked. “A plug. You’r’a mean… you have it in right now?”

And Peasley cracked up. That appeared to knock Luigi for six more than anything else, so maybe that was enough. “Alas, no, it’s in my bedside drawer. It’s the one with the books and the flower vase on it.”

“Ah-!”

Luigi reached over to open the drawer in question, and he didn’t even need to move his body to do so. The stretch did lead to a bit of movement against Peasley’s dick, and he bit his lip and begged himself, his lucky star, to calm down for a second so he could experience a climax properly.

Luigi turned the plug around in his fingers, fascinated, as though it were an alien specimen.

“You do know what it is, don’t you?” Peasley smiled.

Luigi nodded earnestly. “Yes! I’m’a just wondering… it’s’a little big. You’r’a sure it’s’a not gonna hur-”

“Oh. My. God. Shut up about all this hurting nonsense!”

“I don’t wanna hurt you!”

“You’re not going to hurt me! It’s a plug!”

“B-but-”

“Luigi, do you remember what you said about loving how I sound when I feel happy?”

His face changed, and went rather red in the process. “Yes! It’s’a true, you’r’a sound so lovely, I love how you, how you, um, how your voice goes, high, and things.”

“Hah! Then this is your chance to prove it!” Peasley winked. He brought his legs out from under Luigi – a bit clumsily, for how awkward an angle it was, but he added a great deal of dramatic flair to make up for it – and wrapped them around Luigi’s hips instead, to open himself up. “I want you to prep me with the plug, okay?”

Luigi blinked a few times. “For you?”

“For me.”

“…Okay. Yes! I’ll’a do that!”

“Good boy,” Peasley snorted, tapping Luigi on the nose.

“G-good… oh,” the muscles in Luigi’s face loosened, mouth falling open, and he tilted his head backwards. “Mm… yes!”

While the praise certainly seemed to override Luigi’s endless anxiety, it didn’t override how slowly he got going, which Peasley could only determine was divine punishment for something or other. He took at least two decades to apply the lubricant to the plug itself, and then at least one more year after that looking at Peasley intensely, readied fingers just near where they needed to go, doing nothing.

“I’m going to…” Luigi brought his fingers up for a moment and wiggled them, “down there. Are you ready?”

Peasley did not even answer. He nodded rapidly and crankily.

“Okey dokey,” Luigi smiled. Peasley’s heart melted a bit. He could just bite him.

And then three of Luigi’s fingers pressed against him. Not inwards, not at all, but more like prodding to check that what he was looking for was indeed there. Peasley sighed a little. After all, there was a lot of anticipation, and getting angry about it every single time took quite a bit of energy. He could feel his body unclench, instead.

“Do it…” Peasley whispered.

And then one finger finally went in. Peasley did his best not to scream in exhilaration. After all, it didn’t actually feel like much besides, well, a finger inside him, and he was quite certain that a scream would achieve nothing besides freaking Luigi out. Thus, he muttered instead, “good, good, yes, like that.”

His plan worked, fortunately. Luigi didn’t stop, just continued to move his finger so as to stretch Peasley out, in a rather surgical but ever so slightly nervous circle.

“Okay, um… you’r’a still want to put the plug in?”

“Please!” Oops, a bit of begging. Luigi was compelling enough to compel it out of him, clearly.

Luigi mercifully did not proceed to have an argument with Peasley as to whether it was going to hurt him or not. He took the plug he had since been holding in his other hand and, just as mercifully, wasted little time pushing it inwards.

“Yes-”

It shouldn’t have felt quite so nice. After all, the plug belonged to Peasley. He’d used it on himself plenty. And it was a perfectly passable bit of fun, something to keep him from getting too antsy, something to give him a bit of an idea of what “good” was meant to feel like.

Luigi doing it instead of Peasley did not feel “good”.

It felt electrifying.

Peasley shuddered and bucked his hips upwards, yelling, “yes, yes! Good! I like that!”

Luigi moaned pitifully and offered the largely incoherent sentence, “yes… I’m being good, it feels good?”

“You’re doing so well – hnn – I don’t know how you do it!”

Luigi made a noise that defied categorisation but betrayed unfathomable horniness and, quite quickly, started to manipulate the plug from the base, turning it inwards towards Peasley’s core. It was quite tantalising. Like a tease of what was hopefully to come.

“Do you think…” Luigi began – and when Peasley looked up at him, he was looking back with considerable assurance – “do you think you’re ready?”

“I was ready from the second we walked into this room!” Peasley snapped.

Luigi laughed. “Ah? The first time, or the second time?”

“Oh, you!” Peasley bopped him on the nose again, through his laughter.

“How’r’a you wanna…”

“Turn me over. Then you can do it super hard,” Peasley winked.

“I’m’a not gonna do it super hard! I’m’a do it… normally!”

Peasley rolled his eyes, even though he was still laughing. His dick was more than angry at him now. It was threatening to fire Peasley for consistently failing to meet sexual deadlines. And thus Peasley simply turned himself over, gripping the bedrail with one hand, in such a way that Luigi couldn’t get started being all nervous again. He was doing it remarkably fast, but Heaven knew that this was all starting to feel like a ticking timebomb, like being trapped in a –

In an explosive-rigged castle about to explode, kind of –

He looked back at Luigi, and he liked to imagine he did so seductively. “My darling, you’re going to do it for me, aren’t you? For me?”

Luigi’s face was marvellous. His dick was, by sheer coincidence of how Peasley had oriented himself, pressed exactly between where Peasley’s legs separated, and all it needed was just a tiny bit of a push to get right where it needed to be. He didn’t even move himself out as much as he probably should have to try to get the condom on. It was tantalising for Peasley in its own way, but for Luigi, it was quite clearly agony. Peasley could almost feel Luigi’s heartbeat through it, though maybe it was just his own.

And it must have been that agony, that exhilaration, that final tap into Luigi’s strange little obsession with service and submission, that finally got Luigi breathing heavily and rapidly, squeezing lubricant onto his fingers without any more hesitation. And then he rubbed it onto himself over the latex, whining pathetically as he did. Peasley had to grip the bedrail even tighter, with his nails, just to stop himself from touching himself at the sound.

With even less hesitation, and absolutely without the infamous double-triple-quadruple checking, Luigi pulled the plug right out, hard –

“Haaaa-!”

And Luigi gasped nervously and mumbled, “mm?”, for old habits died hard, but Peasley started rocking frantically and whining “now… now… now…”, which clearly got enough of a direction through.

“C-can I-”

“Do it!”

And Luigi groaned and leaned over Peasley’s back and then –

It was a bit hard to describe. Indescribable, in all likelihood. It was above all else a lot. Luigi had at some point decided upon a sort of all-or-nothing approach, and thus everything in Peasley’s body was suddenly taken, slammed against this unbelievable assault of exhilaration.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Luigi! Just like that!”

“D-does it feel good?”

Peasley screamed. His rocking had started up again. While he was so startled by the pleasure that he was shaking – too much for anything to call a meaningful level of speed – it was barely enough to repeatedly slam Luigi’s dick into where it felt disgustingly incredible.

But only barely. Peasley could feel his heart starting to fly, leaving his body, too much for him to keep doing much of anything himself. Hell, his mouth wouldn’t even close enough for him to speak any words besides,

“Luigi. Harder.”

“S-so you want me to mo-”

“I said harder!”

Something clearly clicked, because Luigi yelled something incomprehensible and then started to move. He did not do it very hard, but perhaps it was at least complicity in that it was, by definition, “harder” than his complete lack of movement before.

“Do you like that? Is-is-is that okay?”

“Harder!”

Luigi gripped Peasley tighter by the waist, almost clawing at the skin, as if it were a tether preventing Luigi from going completely under in a rip current. Peasley faintly wished to tell him off for not jerking him off in the process, but could not. Because he was at around 10% brain functionality by this point, and if the sounds and indiscriminate scratching were any indication, Luigi was quite evidently not much better off.

But he had just enough to do what Peasley asked, whimpering bizarrely as he began to move his hips quite a bit faster, though rather softly all the same. The speed was brilliant, in how wanted it made Peasley feel. But the softness was not, as it meant he was being fucked shallowly, and the spot was not being hit.

“HARDER!”

Luigi moaned an enthusiastic “ohhh…” before complying.

A bit too well. He went right in, and it was the first time Peasley realised that it had never been an all-or-nothing approach, that Luigi had really only been some 60% of the way in at best, that he was being even more delicate and cautious than that of which Peasley had been mentally accusing him. And when he did, it went so deep that Peasley felt a slam, and then a cruel spike, and then a severe whack to the stomach, as though he had just tumbled guts-first to the concrete.

“Ouch!” Peasley yelled.

The pain very quickly relented as Luigi moved outwards a good amount, leaving Peasley only half-full. “Oh- oh no! I… I told you! I’m sorry!”

Peasley breathed deeply. He attempted to keep it slow, for the only piece of logical brain power he could detect within himself found it worthy to do so, but it was difficult. His mind was still hazy, his dick was still angry with him, and Luigi was still stuttering apologies.

“It’s…” Peasley whined, “it’s fine… I just… didn’t realise…”

“Are you okay? We can – what’r’a you wanna do now?”

“I... You... To fuck me hard,” Peasley moaned, muffled into the pillow, for his neck had finally called time.

“Uhh… what’r’a you say?”

Peasley found it in himself to turn his head to the side, making out a dot of Luigi’s face through the obscured view of his tussled hair and blurry perception. “I want… you to fuck me… hard!”

“But I’m’a just hurt you just now!”

“That’s just… because,” Peasley panted, waiting the seconds it took for each word to eventuate in his speech, “you’re really big… I’ve never felt… I under… estimated… but I need it, I need it.”

“Y-you can’t be serious!”

A refrain materialised where high-order thinking did not. “If we don’t do it now, we never will!”

“P-Peasley…”

Peasley waited for Luigi to elaborate. There was something in the spirit of elaboration in how he whined it, but it said so much that it was hard for Peasley to sharpen it into a clear thought.

“Luigi?”

“I want to keep going. But. I’m gonna go slowly, okay? For you?”

“Hnnn-”

Luigi leaned his head down, and started kissing Peasley’s left cheek over and over, holding the right side of his face tenderly. “Slow can feel good, too, yaknow…”

“W-we… we need to do this now…” Peasley stuttered. His mind was swimming in transparent nothingness, in instinctive assertion and nothing more. Luigi’s lips pushed him into release.

“I’ll do it for you! I-I promise! But we’r’a gonna be slow, okay? Careful?”

“Hmmm…”

Luigi continued to kiss Peasley’s face lightly, with great romance. Which was not too bizarre, seeing how much of this venture had been a consolidation of “I actually really like you”, but Peasley could feel his skin and flesh and self melt into a puddle of adoration at the act. A pretty horny puddle. Luigi was still inside him after all, discussing how he intended to fuck him.

“Hmmmm… if you’ll just keep going…” Peasley weeped.

“Yes!” Luigi nodded. His moustache brushed against Peasley’s skin as he did so.

“Doooo it.” He sounded so pathetic. He was so far gone. “Luigi…!”

Luigi finally did what Peasley asked and thrust in steadily, hardly more than a few millimetres. It would have been hard to tell, because it was just so slow and Peasley was so mentally ruined, but that atomic-level focus on what Luigi was doing was entirely unaffected by those circumstances.

He went further in, stopping often and waiting for Peasley to make some sort of sound to indicate pleasure. Peasley did not have to do so deliberately. Frankly, the needy noises he was offering were more akin to a long, wavering drone of “haaah”, only cutting out when the feeling became so much that his voice cut off.

“Haaaah… haaaaaarder…”

“No, no, not yet,” Luigi murmured, with what Peasley could only classify as smugness. “It’ll feel… hnnn- it’ll’a feel better if you wait!”

Peasley coughed. He really had no idea when the tears had started to roll down his face. He wanted to look at Luigi properly and give him a piece of his mind, but he had gone all but limp under Luigi as he held him assuredly, sweet-talking him through how painful it was to have painless sex.

He hadn’t even gone in all the way. Not even close. He hadn’t hit the G-spot yet, for crying out loud.

“Luigi! Luigi, go harder!”

“Just wait,” Luigi answered. “Does this feel good?”

“Yes, it feels so! So! I need more! I need you to go harder-!”

Likely owing to Peasley being so lost in the sensation that he could not string together sentences, let alone unique or especially convincing ones, Luigi was not swayed by the demand. He kept moving in as he had been before, kissing Peasley’s temple, letting his tongue faintly trace the edge of Peasley’s ear, running one hand through his hair as if to relax him.

It would have been easier to grapple with, if Luigi hadn’t been one hundred and ten percent correct when he’d promised that slow could feel good too. Slow was wonderful, was mind-breaking. And he still hadn’t hit the G-spot yet.

“M-More…”

It probably was not for that command per se, but instead for how there was nowhere else for Luigi to go, that he finally pushed far enough inwards for Peasley to convulse. He cried out and found his teeth loosely biting down on the pillow, if only with half of his mouth because he lacked the composure to turn his head forward enough to do so all the way.

“Is that… is that okay?” Luigi asked, a bit more interest in his tone than there was arousal.

“Yes-! That’s perfect! Oh, just don’t stop! You feel so good, Luigi, I’m going to lose my mind-”

There was a sound of something muffled; swallowed, perhaps. Peasley once again failed to find the strength to actually look at him, but he hoped it was a happy sound and not a mocking one.

“It’s’a not hurt if I move… move like this?”

He moved a touch outwards again.

“N-No… but I need you to-! To keep going!”

Luigi obeyed more or less instantly, whining and pressing his lips to Peasley’s nape. Peasley buckled again, and his knee slipped, causing him to fall even further flat against the bed. His dick was not just angry, but infuriated, at how good it felt to be suddenly pressed and rubbed against the sheets.

“Haa-! Luigi!”

Then Luigi cooed, if not without his trademark waver of nerves, something quite peculiar. Something quite fascinating.

“Okay. I’ve got you, okay?”

“You’ve got-?”

Luigi wrapped an arm around from Peasley’s waist to his opposite shoulder, almost seat-belt like, and his other arm snaked up Peasley’s thigh and then – holy shit, finally – started to run in an up-and-down motion on his dick. His hand was so big and warm, just the first touch started to make Peasley feel static at the edges of his sight.

“Does this fe-”

“Obviously, yes, yes! Luigi…!”

And with little prompting besides, Luigi started to move faster. Harder.

Peasley screamed so loudly his voice cracked, then dipped into hoarseness, and while it was meant to be a cry of Luigi’s name, or perhaps “yes”, or “fuck”, or “good boy” since Luigi seemed to love that so much, it was not a cry of anything besides raw thrill.

It did not hurt this time. Or, if it did, Peasley was so knocked out by this stage that the pain, too, felt good. Luigi was thrusting into where Peasley’s sanity lay and was resolutely, sweetly, destroying it; Peasley felt his body collapse further as if it were even possible, but he only felt it because he could sense Luigi holding him up to keep him steady.

And Peasley – and Peasley could – there was – it –

Everything was defined by pulsation. Everything was defined by perfect, illustration-like clouds, and by floating, by weightlessness. Peasley couldn’t remember where his body was in relation to the pleasure, where his thinking mind ended and his nerve endings began. He could remember that Luigi was fucking him, and he could remember that Luigi was holding him, and that Luigi had him, and he could tell there was something about to explode –

“Luigi, I’m going to come,” so came Peasley’s voice.

“Mm? Ah-”

“My darling,” so came the cry, like an admission, or a concession. And then that was it.

Needless to say, it certainly did not feel anything like what Peasley had managed to achieve by himself. It was boiling hot, and when he shook and fell further, he could feel Luigi’s arms and hands loosen somewhat, to prevent them from pushing too deep into Peasley’s skin. And he kissed Peasley’s neck, and kept moving his hand up his dick as if it needed any encouragement.

“I like that,” Luigi whispered.

Peasley felt his chest inhale, exhale, in, out. He – or, well, both of them, actually – were layered in sweat and desperation.

“Luigi…” Peasley whispered, “are you going to keep going…?”

“Er… I’m’a mean! You’r’a done! So!”

“But what about you?” Peasley’s muscles finally agreed to move his head around and grant him a good look at Luigi.

And Luigi looked wrecked. Wrecked with a capital W. He was crying, and biting his lip so profoundly that it made his face look a good deal shorter than it actually was, and though Peasley had been so taken as to not even hear it, he was breathing rapidly and with a shudder.

“You’ve been very patient for me. Have you not?” Peasley winked. It was a bit of a miracle that he could manage it, as it were.

“Um- Yes, I like it when you, when you’re… when you feel good, so-”

“You’re quite the wonder!” Peasley chuckled. “Hats off! Or, should I say…?”

Luigi managed to laugh as well, resting his forehead on Peasley’s shoulder, still whining a little throughout.

“You can keep going. I want you to!”

“Ah, but it’ll hurt you.”

Peasley didn’t honour the protestation with any yelling of “do not be fucking ridiculous”, or even with a roll of the eyes. He just kept his smirk firmly plastered on his face and traced a finger up the outside of Luigi’s thigh.

“If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

A beat.

“Or, well, I think you will. When you come back. But what a shame, to not do it now!”

“Wh-when I come back…”

“Come on, my darling. Keep going.”

With that, Luigi actually did so, and he started to get extremely vocal about it. Peasley had gotten a hunch that it might have been the case, but this all but confirmed Luigi had been keeping it all shut up for Peasley’s sake, and that was as lamentable as it was deeply fucking hot to hear it now.

It didn’t hurt a whole lot, but that was probably because it took Luigi all of twenty seconds to wrap it up.

“Oh, Peasley, I really like that!”

“I like you!” Peasley giggled.

“You feel – I like – I want – I need –”

Besides its overall incoherence, it did not necessarily warn Peasley outright that Luigi had finally allowed himself to come, but the way his legs tensed and his fingers tightened and dug into Peasley’s skin did the trick.

“Good, good boy,” Peasley chuckled.

“Haah.”

They were not in any nameable position from there, laid flat on the mattress, just a nondescript mess of limbs and breath and post-coital tenderness. Luigi was technically still on top of Peasley, but not really. They were more like side-by-side, Luigi holding Peasley close, as Peasley slowly moved so that Luigi wasn’t literally inside him anymore. The condom snagged a little and ended up nearly spilling everywhere, but Peasley was clever enough to tie it up before throwing it to the other side of the bed. Though, it didn’t matter much. The sheets were “likely dirtied” now, to borrow words.

They were cuddling, Peasley realised, and realised more bluntly when Luigi continued to run his fingers through Peasley’s hair and breathe the scent in with little shame.

He could have, should have, asked Luigi whether it was time he get going. Luigi had either entirely forgotten about all that or did not want to broach the topic just yet.

“Let’s stay here for a while, yes?” Peasley muttered, instead, holding Luigi’s hand closer to his chest.

“Mm, I’d like that! Just for’a little bit, yes? Five minutes. Then I’ll’a get dressed…”

“Ehhahahahah! So you’re a five-more-minutes sort of man!”

“Hn, mhm, yes, but just this time… If we don’t do this now… who knows if we will?”

“Oh, we definitely will! Unless you’ve got other plans?”

Luigi chuckled a little, and sighed into Peasley’s hair again.