Guy stared up at the ceiling fan as it spun in slow, barely audible circles above the bed. Occasional he'd glance elsewhere. The window, where the sun had finally begun to peak up above the horizon. Or the clock, the glaring red numbers changing at a sluggish pace. He'd been at it for hours. Just six o'clock now. He'd been up since three. Counting the counter clockwise turns of the fan, listening to the occasional car roll past, anything to distract him from the sight of the childhood friend who had been sleeping quietly at his side since the whole disastrous night had begun.

The shepherd's hand briefly reached over, nudging into the triple layered molicares that hugged his friend's hips. His own idea, if he recalled last night properly. "There, thicker than me" he'd sniggered to his blushing, laughing drinking buddy. It seemed so bizarre that he'd have suggested such a thing. Moreso that they'd gone from drinking, to diapering one another up, to awkward kissing, to even more awkward grinding. Two 'straight' best buds who'd accidentally stumbled upon one another on the same fetish site. This whole situation was... Bizarre. And now, sober and his climax long since achieved, there was that sneaking, paranoid feeling that somehow their friendship might have been irreparably damaged.

The dog beside him breathed peacefully as he slept off a night's worth of Jägermeister and awkward groping and, for the hundredth time as he'd laid there awake, Guy weighed in his mind if it would be better if he just snuck off before the other woke.~

Know that after feeling where you feel horrible about what gets you off? Yeah, it sucks. Don't worry, they probably just didn't talk to each other for a few weeks before everything went back to awkward normality. Fun stuff.