Ben and Chris were sitting on their makeshift balcony couch, improvised from the spare bedframe they had for long-forgotten reasons, cuddled up under the blanket—strictly to preserve heat, naturally.

The winters hit hard in this secluded part of the valley but living in such a remote location came with the advantage that this goddess-forsaken place’s only two cops were also Chris’ best customers. Where else would they get their stash from? Or analytical reference standard, as they called it. For the lab, they argued, while shamelessly bagging an entire solar system’s supply of analytical reference every other week.

“That’s the last of the Pineapple Chunk,” sighed Chris before he lit the spliff lodged between his lips.

“Don’t act like your Purple Haze is that much weaker,” retorted Ben, snuggling under Chris’ arm when the latter sucked in the first drag.

Chris’ voice sounded through the smoke as if spoken through a thick cotton pad. “It just doesn’t hit the same.” He paused to allow his roommate to frown, disapproving of his friend’s insistence on optimized THC content. “No worries, man. It’s just fine.”

He leaned back against the mattress that served as a backrest to allow the brief initial carbon monoxide kick to invade his skull in the familiar thundering pulses.

As Ben took the reefer to his lips, he tasted his flatmate’s lip balm on the filter. It made him chuckle. How many hours—days, weeks—sharing lip balm like that had been spent on this old, muggy sofa, just between the two of them? All cuddled up like this. With Chris rambling on and on about fertilizers, ultraviolet heat lamps, watering systems and all that grower knick-knack he seemed so passionate about. To the point of an unhealthy mania. He had to be careful not to be dragged into his roommate’s stoner prattle.

The only grower Ben had to show was concealed in his cargo shorts. It reacted mainly to two stimuli: female pheromones and pot—the last-mentioned being his guilty pleasure. The two roommates worked like a well-greased engine, with each of them proving a similar level of neglect towards homely duties. There was no need to perturb this unspoken harmony. No need to make his cohabitant mistake his over-excitement, merely induced by psychedelic substances, for sexual preferences that would destabilize their household.

Chris inspected the glowing doobie, fairly content with his rolling and growing skills. He threw his head back and closed his eyes as his cheeks started to tingle with the familiar sensation of the cannabinoids washing over his perception.

He exhaled the contents of his lungs skyward. “This year’s growth goes down so smooooth.”

“Fuck yeah,” Ben agreed, accepting the butt. “It's just like the plumbing down the hatch was Teflon-coated.”

Chris wrinkled his nose. “Ew, dude. How can you compare my best culture to that chemical waste? It’s toxic. Everyone knows that.”

“Yes, but it makes pans non-sticky and easier to clean. Saves you lots of grease. Burnt oil, now that’s toxic. Gives you cancer.”

Chris lifted an eyebrow when he took the roach back. He inhaled deeply and exhaled into his friend’s face this time. “But you’ll wolf down the fried eggs I make in the steel pan. Delicious, innit? And none of this PTFE nonsense. Pure poison, I keep telling you,”

Ben chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Said the guy feeding his future lung cancer one healthy chug of polycyclic aromatics at a time—and who drowns said eggs in butter so they won’t stick to the pan.”

“Yeah, because butter is looove, dude!” Chris’ voice was filled with glee.

“Sure, and that’s why in the fifties they said butter is good for you because it keeps your blood vessels nice and greased,” Ben added.

Chris, not taking any of this seriously, replied with a nonchalant air of sarcastic bullshittery, “Of course, because it helps emulsify your blood better—or whatever.” He took another hit of MJ.

“Dude, you trippin’?” They both giggled over the shallow jest. “Blood is an aqueous solution.”

“Horsecrap! Yes, the medium, the blood serum, is a solution, sure, but it has, like, a bajillion cells suspended in it.”

Ben forced his eyes shut and rubbed the root of his nose, trying to stick to his initial plan not to start a discussion but already losing the battle against his natural urges. “Ugh! That shit drives me up the fucking wall, I tell you!”

“What?”

Ben gesticulated with both his hands as if to drive his point home without really knowing what his point was. “I am—and with that, I mean the both of us—missing a crucial notion here!”—the keyword not just emphasized but spoken with ominous intonation.

“Huh?”

Ben reiterated, “You know how even large solid particles can be dissolved, right?”

“Not sure if I’m following,” Chris pondered, somewhat chastising himself internally for having, once again, dragged Ben into a pointless discussion.

“Okay, consider, say, a blood cell. No, actually, take a protein. Let’s approximate it as a carbon nanoparticle. It’s soluble, right?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.” Chris’ reply was enunciated like a question rather than a simple statement.

“Dissolved in a liquid medium. Water, for instance,” Ben finished his earlier elaboration.

“Yes?”

“Because it has a solvation shell.”

Understanding the reasoning so far but still not following what Ben was getting at, Chris replied. “Yeah, so what?” It was getting hard not to get unnerved with his roommate at this point. No wonder he was unable to land any girls with his obsessive rambling about unimportant things.

Then again, being high as a kite on ganja often came with such deeply meaningful palaver.

Ben’s incessant monologue shook Chris out of his daydreaming again. “How large can a particle get until it stops being dissolved and becomes suspended despite that it’s surrounded by a solvation shell—meaning, having a perfectly dissolved surface on a molecular level?”

“Whoa, dude!” Chris shot back as if the very fabric of reality had been revealed to him.

“Yeah, right? So now, is it a bacterial solution or a bacterial suspension?”

Instantly snapped out of his brief moment of enlightenment—and quite possibly lured into his buddy’s psychotropic jibber-jabber spiral—Chris retorted, “I’d still call it an emulsion because cell membranes are made of...?”

“Lecithins,” Ben shot back.

“Bingo!” Chris held the half-smoked stub between his index and middle fingers, using both fingers to point at his friend. “And lecithins are emulsifiers that will self-organize into lipid bilayers—“

“—given they exceed the critical micellar concentration, that is,” Ben interjected, accepting the joint. He took a deep hit and handed it back.

He snubbed, slightly annoyed before resuming, slightly irritated, “Also... lipid bilayers are fairly fluid while keeping their integrity.” He watched the smoke rings Chris was making floating away in the crisp winter air.

“Yes, but bacteria also have glycan cell walls, as in solid matter, making them solid particles in a good approximation. For this reason, I still vouch for suspension,” Ben argued before taking another drag.

“Thought we were talking about blood cells and not bacteria.”

“Great point. And butter too.”

Both sighed dreamily in unison.

“Delicious fucking butter,” affirmed Chris.

“Fucking butter?” Ben echoed after a brief moment of silence. “Is that butter you use as lube, or is it when you stick your dick in a block of butter?”

The two young men chuckled over the obvious joke, soon falling into a laughing fit, self-catalyzing over how silly it was to even laugh about such a crude notion of humor.

Chris was the first to catch his breath enough to speak. “Dude, you’re gross. How old are we even?”

“Oh, as if that thought never crossed your mind,” Ben replied, a thick notion of ‘if you know what I mean’ in his tone.

“Whoa, dude, check this one out,” Ben started after a brief moment of contemplation, Chris listening to him attentively, eyes half-closed, glistening in his comfortable haze. “Babe, I’ve got a whole load of molten butter right here.”

Chris snorted, “It’s like you’re not even trying, bro.” He shook his head, giggling, while reaching out for the blunt. “Nah, for real... I, uh...”

When Ben accepted the dope with his left hand, Chris’ hand landed on Ben’s right, and they exchanged investigative glances.

Chris resumed his interrupted sentence. “I like it when you call me babe.”

Cheeks instantly blushing a deep crimson shade as if caught in the act, Ben’s reply came like a confession uninhibited by his crumbling mental barricades. “I didn’t mean, like... uh... you know... fuck, am I this obvious?”

Chris chuckled with amusement and stated smugly, “A boner this size isn’t exactly subtle, you know.” Through the fabric of the shorts, the tip of his middle finger traced the outlines of his friend’s erection.

“B-but,” Ben stammered, “it’s not... what... what...”

“...it looks like?” Chris finished Ben’s sentence. “Technically, I have no idea what it looks like because I’ve never seen it. I only know what it feels like in my hand.”

He gave the tumescent rod a gentle squeeze. His eyes lazily wandered up to meet Ben’s insecure expression. “And I like how it feels.” He let his lips exaggerate the articulation of every word that followed. “So hard. So ready. So big. Love it.” He made his tongue click on every ‘d’, ‘t’ and ‘l’, bit his lips on the ‘v’.

Ben’s gulp was audible. He had his secret desire so easily exposed and yet presented to him on a silver platter, ready to submit to his every need.

“But, bro... I’m straight,” came his half-hearted attempt at denying his bottled-up fantasy. He wasn’t even trying to make it sound believable. It rather came across as a corny line in a cheap gay porn.

Having expected this excuse, Chris pursed his lips and rolled his eyes knowingly. “So is spaghetti, bro,” he affirmed his homie’s statement, “until it’s hot and wet, that is.” He reached for the ashtray to put out the last embers that were now threatening to consume the filter.

Ben took a deep breath, the fog in his mind drastically decelerating his thinking process.

Chris completed the mental imagery for him. “And I am very wet right now.”

Ben opened his eyes, unsure how to interpret this new piece of information. “Wet?”

To help a friend in need for explanation, Chris grabbed Ben’s hand and unceremoniously shoved it in his sweatpants.

Shocked, Ben fumbled for the familiar grip on a steel-hard pole but failed to find it. Instead, his hand was quickly inundated with a warm, slippery fluid.

“Dude, where’s your...”

His turn to blush, Chris bit his bottom lip. “Guess we found out each other’s secrets now,” he chirped.

“You... have... a...” Ben started, unsure of how to formulate his question without being offensive.

“...bonus hole,” Chris relieved him. “Yes.”

Ben’s face lit up, and an unwipeable goofy grin spread over his lips. “Dude, that’s fucking amazing.” He cleared his throat. “Babe, I mean.”

Chris giggled in reply to his earlier-acknowledged term of endearment.

When the possibilities started to dawn on Ben, his eyes opened up to huge saucers and his lips formed a perfectly circular uppercase ‘O’ of amazement. “Babe,” he tried, having a hard time suppressing his stupid guffaw, “I’ve got a whole load of molten butter ready to spray paint you wherever you want it.”

Both of them burst in yet another howling laughter that soon ended in Chris panting and squirming, as Ben’s hand was brushing over his erect little nub protruding from between his nether lips.

“Shit, bro,” Chris panted, grinding his hips against Chris’ hand, “fuck me already. Make me your little molten butter dump.”

“Babe,” Ben started, when he took Chris’ hand, “I’m not gonna say ‘no homo’ because I have no idea what the fuck this is, but actually, I don’t care because it’s not important. It’s with you. We’ve been roomies for seven years, and it just feels right.”

“You’re so hot when you just take action and stop trying to figure out unimportant stuff.”

“...like whether blood is an emulsion, suspension, or solution, you mean?”

Both giggled like giddy teenagers who had just hatched out something forbidden.

The two boys braved the five-step walk through the choppy winter air. Once the balcony door was closed behind them, they took a moment to process whether to just crash on the couch. It seemed easy, quick, immediate.

Seeing how Ben was shivering—while sporting an unambiguous tent in his shorts—however, Chris opted in favor of a warm blanket and against the old, half-torn centerpiece of the shared living room. It once could have been considered furniture but now, while still serving its initial purpose, it looked more as if posing a serious bladder infection risk if used naked.

The walk to Chris’ bedroom led through the kitchen, where they halted in front of the refrigerator. Grinning with clattering teeth, Ben took a new block of butter out and waved it in front of his flatmate. Joining the facial expression, the other inhabitant picked a knife from the drip tray. Thus prepared, Chris took Ben’s hand and led him to his bedroom.

Once there, the cold from outside was utterly forgotten. Both t-shirts hit the floor, and the boys were entangled in each other’s arms, hands roaming over bodies, hungry mouths exploring. Their tongues were dancing a wild tango when their hands disappeared under one another’s pants’ waistbands, seeking their desired treasures.

They quickly found a rhythm to grind their pelvises to, Ben thrusting his cock into his friend’s grip while Chris rocked against his roomie’s exploring fingers.

Ben broke the kiss. “Shit, dude, I want to butter you up and fuck your brains out.”

Chris bit his lip and wiggled his eyebrows. “If you’re nice and patient and butter me up real good, I’ll let you fuck all my holes.”

Upon hearing this, there was no holding Ben back anymore. He knelt down in front of his flatmate and tore off the sweatpants separating him from the object of his desire. He lifted his slender friend and threw him on the bed, and himself between his legs spread wide.

Humming, Ben went down on Chris’ watering genitals. Greedily, he lapped up the juice and let his tongue glide between the engorged folds that hid the jewel he desired. Ben cursed and squirmed as his clit-cock was getting licked. He sucked in air and let out a moan when Ben bit his pearl.

“Fuck, bro, I’m gonna ruin the bedsheets,” he warned between moans.

With a wide leer, Ben got up again. “Know what? Since we’re already doing that, how about we ruin them good?”

Reading his roomie’s thoughts, Chris bit his bottom lip and nodded coyly. “Butter me up good before you fuck me,” he giggled.

“Oh, I’ll butter you up just right, my sexy little thing,” Ben said while cutting the object of their shared obsession into little pieces. He grabbed a handful of them and gently pushed them against Chris’ anus, which readily swallowed them one by one.

“Your ass just eats up that butter!” Ben exclaimed, fascinated.

“There’s only one way up my ass, and it better be buttered,” Chris purred in delight.

The second half of the butter also went up his front hole with Ben’s fingers seeking out the G-spot. Chris’ hips rocked from Ben’s coarse touch, seeking friction in the right places. His moans were muffled by Ben’s mouth greedily sucking in his restless tongue.

Just as Chris was about to reach his bliss, Ben retracted his fingers, much to his roommate’s chagrin. Just as he was about to express his disagreement over his vacated orifice, Ben shoved his throbbing erection into the butter-filled hole.

“Yesss!” groaned Chris before his mouth was invaded by fingers coated with a curious mixture of human and dairy lubrication.

“Show me you’re a good little boy slut and suck your buttered juices off my fingers!” Ben ordered while thrusting into his friend’s bonus hole.

Ben wrapped his free arm around Chris’ body and held him close. “Don’t hold back when you’re ready. Cum over my cock, babe.”

After a few more thrusts, Chris started jerking and he spat out Ben’s fingers, moaning loudly when his orgasm ran through his body. He writhed and contorted, growling garbled expletives while his body cramped in jolts of his roommate's cock.

As Chris gradually came down from his high, Ben sniggered contentedly when he pulled out, leaving behind a trail of yellowish oil. Just when he stroked his shaft laggardly, allowing Chris to catch his breath, he said. “Just look at this.” A viscous stream also oozed from Chris’ ass. “You just look like you had both your holes leaking with overflowing creampies. So delicious.”

His panting abating, Chris replied with a sultry tone, “I’d love to have your cum in all my holes.”

“There’s time for that, but first have a taste of my buttered dick.”

Eagerly, Chris gobbled down Ben’s slippery pole, adding his drool to the various liquids already coating it. The butter helped guide the throbbing rod down Chris’ gullet. His nostrils flared with the rich scent of dairy grease as his throat accepted the slick intrusion without much of a protest.

When Ben extracted his cock from his roommate’s mouth, the latter heaved and gasped for air, broad smile on his face.

“Haven’t been properly face-fucked in a while,” he commented, catching the cobweb of drool that hung between his chin and Ben’s purple mushroom.

“Oh yeah? There will be plenty of time for that,” Ben replied. “But now I think you’re ready to get this dick up your buttered ass now.”

Chris giggled and turned around, wiggling his rear for Ben’s viewing pleasure.

“That’s it, butter whore, show me where you want it.”

Chris spread his ass cheeks and pointed to his puckered star where the molten churn was still oozing from. “In heeere,” he sang with a seductive lilt to his voice.

“Fuck...” Ben gasped, barely able to prevent himself from violently plunging into his friend’s tight hole and ruining the moment. “Woosah,” he quoted Bad Boys to calm himself down before he aligned his cock with Chris’ backdoor and gently began to sink into its depths.

When Ben’s balls hit Chris’ front entrance, they both moaned in a dissonant choir.

“Fuck, you’re taking my whole length, babe!” Ben said. “You’re taking me so deep.”

“Told you—fuck!—that butter is love, bro!” Chris replied, pushing back against Ben’s hips. “Now fuck my little ass sore!”

Ben grabbed a fistful of his friend’s hair and began pounding slowly but mercilessly, every thrust only ending when hips connected, propelling Chris forward.

“Shit, homie!” Chris cried out. “You’re gonna make me...” The last word was stuck in his throat as Ben let go of his hair and moved his hand around his throat.

Ben made Chris arch his neck and leaned forward, placing his lips next to Chris’ ear. “You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to, babe.”

Chris squealed in submissive frustration but was determined to be a good boy.

As Ben pulled out, Chris turned his head to pout at his friend, showing him how much he missed having his ass filled with croissant pur beurre.

“Lie on your back,” Ben snarled.

Chris’ face lit up. Willingly, he complied and spread his legs, displaying his prominently swollen boy-clit that just waited to be played with.

“I’m gonna make you scream my name, babe,” Ben announced as he sank his shaft back into his homie’s tight canal. This time, Ben’s thrusts were soft and sensual but just as deep as before. He let two fingers dive into his friend’s boy-cunt and spread the lubrication across his labia and erect nub.

Leaning in, Ben whispered, “I’m going to make you cum, babe. Don’t hold back. And when you’re done, I’ll drain my balls down that filthy throat of yours.”

Not even waiting for Ben’s reaction, Chris flicked Ben’s pearl, triggering the first waves of his orgasm. Ben’s body spasmed and jerked up while Ben kept his cock firmly up his friend’s ass.

A seemingly endless stream of “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” came out of Ben’s mouth, the words becoming more blurred with each repetition until his voice died and the convulsions in his body ebbed.

“Are you alright, babe?” Ben queried, sounding genuinely concerned about his homie’s well-being as the latter fell limp in his need to recover.

“Always... the gentleman,” Ben replied between labored breaths, a hint of a fond sigh in his tone.

He climbed off the bed and knelt on the floor, a tired yet anticipating smile on his face.

Ben got up in front of him and looked down, smiling at his conquest. He gasped and rolled his eyes, nearly losing his stance when Chris wrapped his lips around his dick.

“Fuck, I’m so close, babe,” he hissed. “Pump my shaft!”

Chris chuckled on Ben’s cock and did as told. After just a few pumps, Chris’ mouth was flooded with the salty warmth being shot into his mouth in powerful bursts. Ben held Chris’ head in place to prevent himself from falling.

He nearly tripped once or twice as his weed- and orgasm-laden head threatened to fall into a narcoleptic state. He giggled between panting breaths while looking down at his roomie, who was looking back up at him through big, glistening eyes, begging for validation.

“You did great, babe.”

A firm hammering on the door disturbed the serene moment between the two boys.

A grin crept upon Ben’s face. “You’re not swallowing a single drop of that,” he ordered. “Follow me to the door.”

Not bothering to get dressed, both of them laggardly staggered to the door.

“Police! Open up! We know you’re in there!” came a female voice from the other side.

They both exchanged confused glances. A female officer? When did the squad get reinforcements?

“C’mon, boys!” the voice resumed. “There have been complaints about—“

She stopped mid-sentence when the door flung open and she saw the two inhabitants.

Naked.

In all their glory—plus Ben’s cum spilling from Chris’ mouth.

She first scanned Ben from head to toe, making a poor job at hiding her arousal. When her eyes moved from Ben’s to Chris’ feet and slowly ascended his legs, however, she stopped dead on his loins. She blushed, then moved further north until her eyes briefly rested on the cum trickling down his chin and then locked with his.

A shy smile crept upon her face.

“Oh, uh, hi,” she barely aspirated, cheeks turning porcine pink.

“Come in, why don’t you?” suggested Chris, a huge shit-eating smirk on his face. He threw a quick glance at the wall clock. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re off duty in a couple minutes.”

“Yes,” she cheeped, voice no more than a coy whisper.

Ben pushed the door shut and locked it. “So, Officer,” he said with a lewd tone in his voice, “do you want to join in on the fun?”

All she managed was an approving chuckle and a nervous nod, accompanied by a big smile from the ideas that unfolded in her mind.