The following is to be read in the voice of Morgan Freeman.
FlowingAway battled internally with his innermost feelings, but eventually his raging dilemma gave way to a smouldering passion, the likes of which the world has never seen before. His throat ran dry, his fingers twitched as electrical impulses ran through his entire body, and his frontal lobe erupted with images of DoItFortheLulz, sprawled in revealing poses.
Allowing DoItForTheLulz to brush his fingers through his flowing hair, FlowingAway looked into his lover's eyes and smiled.
"I love you, DoItForTheLulz," his whispered hoarsely, "I've never been more sure that someone was right for me. I need you in my life, and if you listen to your heart, I think you'll feel the same way."
DoItForTheLulz smiled gently, taking FlowingAway's hand and leading him to the back room.
"I've got something you might like," DoItForTheLulz chuckled demurely. "It's made of leather, and it's covered in zips and buckles..." As he pulled the gimp costume out from the trunk underneath his bed, FlowingAway saw that the moniker "SexMuffin" has been bedazzled across the torso.
With thoughts of unknown pleasures racing through his mind, FlowingAway began to feel weak at the knees as DoItForTheLulz slipped into his diamante encrusted S&M apparel.
Three weeks previously...
"FUCK YOUR FUCKING LLAMA, YOU FUCKING FUCK!" FlowingAway screamed at DoItForTheLulz, lashing out blindly in his turmoil. "I don't love you, and I'll never love you!" These cutting words fell upon DoItForTheLulz's hurt ears, but the victim of the verbal assault peresevered.
"Sweet prince, we will be together one day, there's no need to scream and shout so."
"I can't, for I am but one devastatingly flamboyant man, and if you would listen to my proposal, I'm sure we could go about fulfilling your request together."
That's it, FlowingAway said to himself, I'm going to teach the fucker a lesson! With that, he opened up his journal and under the section marked Enemies, he added DoItForTheLulz's name to the list.
Back to the present day(Lol, transitions are fun)
FlowingAway lay panting next to DoItForTheLulz on the bed, his chest red from rubbing against the bedazzled gimp suit whilst he was gripped in the throes of passion. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for a packet of cigarettes, lit one up and offered another to his new love.
"I want you to know... Every time I denied your love... It was just because of those pesky deviants... They were like an internet paparazzi, I couldn't get a moment's respite!" He paused for a moment, thoughtfully. "Of course, now we're together they seem to have left us alone... It's almost ironic."
"It's fate," DoItForTheLulz whispered back, accepting the cigarette, rolling it around his lips in a most erotic manner before eventually lighting it and inhaling sensually. "You can't fight it. Hell, sometimes you don't even realise it's there, but when it decides two people are meant to be, you can't fight it."
They were silent for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other's company, until FlowingAway spoke suddenly.
"I want you to shit on my chest."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I want you to shit on my chest, it's been a fantasy of mine for as long as I can remember." DoItForTheLulz rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"That's a lot to ask a guy..."
"If you loved me you'd do it..."
An internal war raged behind DoItForTheLulz's eyes.
"I just don't think I can do it, sweetheart," he said gently, trying not to let FlowingAway down too much. "It's nothing personal... I just fear that I may be sick if I try."
FlowingAway nodded sagely. "I knew it was a long shot, but I had to be sure," he said, stroking his lover's caterpillar eyebrows.
"If it makes you feel any better, I could always show you some moves," DoItForTheLulz said, his caterpillar eyebrows wriggling suggestively.
"I don't know... There's something about your deep shit coloured eyes that just makes me... well... You know." FlowingAway sighed. DoItForTheLulz put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled supportively.
"Bro, you ain't seen nothing yet." Cupping his lips and allowing his eyes to glaze over, DoItForTheLulz adopted a passable imitation of a Bellsprout.
"Oh baby!" FlowingAway exclaimed as he was helped out of his tight spandex work-clothes.
There was an almighty crash as the bedroom door was kicked in. When the dust settled a mysterious figure was stood in the doorway.
"Fuhrer-Glasses!" the pair exclaimed at once. It was true, Fuhrer-Glasses was indeed standing on the threshold of DoItforTheLulz and Flowing-Away's love nest.
"Yes, it is I, and I've come for some sweet lovin'!" Fuhrer-Glasses cried with gay abandon as he ripped off his clothes in one fluid motion, leaving nothing but his banana hammock.
DoItForTheLulz was the first to respond after a few seconds of shell-shocked silence. "Bitch, you'll get no lovin' till I get my hug."
One year later
Ok. Flowing-Away was pegging Wyvern709, whilst receiving a blowjob from DoItForTheLulz, while MurderByProxy's twin brother was giving it to Fuhrer-Glasses, whilst I was giving it to MurderByProxy when he was giving it to his wife on his Kitchen table inside a fishtank with an Octopus, inside the Apollo 11 lander on the surface of the moon mid-launch in 1492. Walt Disney was there, super-imposing Mickey Mouse's head to make his profit and Josef Stalin had boogied backwards in time to kick it with Jesus in the corner; they're kind of voyeuristic.
Anyway, Jesus and Stalin were kicking it with a bong a little while after we'd finished, and Stalin started tickling Jesus, causing him to spill the water. The liquid got into the circuits and our lunar lander was fried, meaning we were spinning out of control whilst heading towards earth at a non-entry safe angle. Everyone in the room looked at each other knowing full well that this could be our final moment. The octopus was clinging to the kitchen table, holding on for dear life, and the lack of gravity meant it was floating around everywhere, bouncing off of the walls. Walt Disney had already hyper-ventilated, and was lying dead in the corner.
This is how our final five minutes went down, and DoItForTheLulz, Flowing-Away, Fuhrer-Glasses, Wyvern709, MurderByProxy and I all survived to tell this tale.
The lander was careening into the atmosphere at terminal velocity, flames were pouring over the sides of our little metal fish-tank. The octopus had hid itself in a Pringles can so as not to worry itself any more and Jesus, Stalin, MBP, MBP2, MBP's wife, DIFTL, FA, Wyvern, FG and I were standing in a circle, saying our last goodbyes.
MBP2 stepped forward to confess - he was not MBP's twin, he was in fact a time duplicate. The revelation was stunning, as you probably know all time duplicates are doomed to die. The news led the party to quickly fathom that the lander was only crashing because he was on it, thus dooming us all. The message was clear - jettison him, or our fate was sealed.
Fuhrer-Glasses and Flowing-Away leapt to the task, attacking him from both angles - the post-coitus tangle of limbs was a sight to behold but it soon became apparent that they were in trouble; he was just too strong. A surge of inspiration seized everyone, and we all rushed him, charging towards the brittle glass that was the front wall of our ship-tank - trying to force him through. It was our only hope.
The impact created a large crack, not too subtle for the lack of pressure outside to secure it's hold and rupture the frame. Glass and bodies poured out of the falling lander like a macabre party streamer, and we lost many. DIFTL held on to the control panel as best he could, using his other hand to grab FA's wrist, securing him to me. He had no time to save the rest of his loved ones, and his tears froze on his cheeks in the emptiness of space as they drifted away to their silent oblivion. He helped FA reach back to the control panel where he could hold himself, and their combined strength allowed them to pull themselves in.
Still in dire danger, they sought to cover the hole with the kitchen table as our beloved octopus drifted past, all eight limbs agape and reaching for some way to save itself. They struggled across the floor to the floating piece of decorum, grabbing a leg each. The mahogany was solid enough to hold against the force of pressure attempting to wring it from the vessel, and dense enough so that the soon to come re-entry flames would not burn through. They were safe with two minutes of air left. Little else to do, they huddled into the corner.
Clinging to each other, DIFTL stared into FA's loving eyes as he whispered what he thought to be his final words; a last troubadour in the morbidity of their final hour.
"I could never quit you." He said, violet tears streaming from his eyes as they reflected the burning outside. "You mean too damn much."
The kiss was long and tender, yet despite lasting but a moment, it was Flowing-Away's eternity. The memory still breaks him today as he thinks about him pulling away. He could feel the roughness of his stubble and the taste of his lips like a wild-fire of signals.
The impact was softer than they imagined, and as they floated in the Atlantic ocean, lucky to be alive,they collapsed into each other to live another day.
Later, Vocable found them floating some twenty miles off of the coast of a beach in the Philippines, where the air was light and salted.
What were they doing so near the Philippines when they landed in the Atlantic ocean, you ask? When Vocable found them, they were engaged in wild, forceful sex. He surmised that a combination of the ocean currents and their copulation carried them here.
He took off his shirt and pants, not wanting to get them wet as he had no spare clothes, and thus leaving him in his boxers. He carried them into his boat, which was no mean feat I must say, considering that they were still doing it, and brought them back to shore. When he looked over at them, they were still at it. He applauded their stamina and quickly hurled them onto the beach with what remaining strength he had left, because he had no intention of letting his boat be besmirched with any more sexual fluids than it already was.
They did not stop when they landed on the beach; no, they simply brushed off their rough impact on the sand and used the now non-moving surface for leverage. Vocable could not tear my eyes off from the sight.
Truly, he did not pay much attention to it then as he was still feeling surprise and aroused from finding two men engaging in hot carnal relations, but now, tired from his physical exertions and leaning against the stern of my boat, he could not tear my eyes away from the sight in from of him.
The sunlight turned their skin golden and a light breeze carried the sound of their breeding to him. One of them was yelling something over and over again, but Vocable could not quite make it out. He drew closer, both to observe them in greater detail and to try and understand what was being shouted, but once he was within grabbing distance, the one that was yelling seized his wrist and pulled him on top of them.
The other quickly made space for him and took hold of his boxers, tugging them down and leaving him exposed to the air. He bucked in discomfort and they took it as an invitation. His mind went hazy at this point, the sudden pleasure blurring his inhibitions. They had sex on the beach several times, in various positions.
By the time his mind had returned enough for him to take notice of his surroundings, he was suspended on the shoulders of one of them, being given a blowjob as the other gave it to him whilst simultaneously giving the other a handjob.
And that was when the European all-female inter-university cheerleading squad on vacation found them.
Miraculously, nobody else was hurt. Wyvern709 landed on his head in a swamp in Pasalacqua, where the primitive locals rescued him and nursed him back to health, then worshiped him as a Sun God who descended from the heavens. MurderByProxy and his wife landed in Texas and carried on as if nothing had happened. To them it was such an unremarkable weekend, they probably wouldn't remember it if you asked them about it. Fuhrer-Glasses landed on his feet and sauntered towards the nearest bar, and was last seen wearing a fake mustache in Cuba. And me? I landed in Canada, and did what any aging black actor would do; I enslaved the nation, and led them in a vicious and bloody war against Russia.
But that is a story for another time.