Work Text:
Neither one of them had any idea how it had started. One moment they were simply chatting to each other, the next they were a mess of grabbed collars, eyes clenched shut, and desperate mouths, moving against one another without keeping oxygen in mind.
One of Stanley’s hands knocked the Narrator’s glasses askew. One of the Narrator’s tangled itself in Stanley’s hair. They pressed as close as they could to each other, as if this may be the only chance they would have to do so.
But, of course, they had forever. Literally, as the Narrator would often joke. That often earned a fond eye-roll from Stanley.
Still, it wasn’t all that often that their time together progressed to this. The two of them were perfectly content with the everyday, chaste kisses, with holding each other close as possible, with affectionate yet sarcastic back-and-forths as they played through the story (or got horrendously off-track).
Stanley pulled away to gasp for air.
“Ah, sorry, dear. I forget that you’re human every now and again…”
He grinned through heavy breaths, rolling his eyes, before pulling the Narrator towards him again and cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Oh, and we’re –mmf!”
The motions between the two grew less thought-out, the kisses becoming open-mouthed and sloppy.
Minutes later, Stanley became aware of the Narrator tapping him with one of his lower hands. Slowly, he pulled away, tilting his head.
[You okay?]
“Erm. You– We– we’re not going any further than this, right?”
[I’m pretty agreeable either way. Probably not though. Why? Do you want to?]
“Ah. No thank you. I was just checking.”
Stanley kissed the Narrator’s forehead. Neither one of them were really of the type to want any more than what they were up to right now, though there had been a few times in the past wherein Stanley had to deal with his own libido - and the Narrator had made it clear that he was entirely willing to help with such a thing.
Asexual. That was the word Stanley had used to describe the two of them. He remembered having to fingerspell it; the Narrator had, understandably, not recognised the sign. In honesty, both had been rather relieved that day - the Narrator had finally realised that it wasn't just him, and Stanley had realised that the Narrator was just like him. The conversation had put both of their minds at ease.
Stanley pulled back, cheeks still rather red. He laughed as the Narrator huffed and fixed his glasses, signing a half-hearted [sorry].
"I notice you're only sorry after the fact, hm? What am I to do with a menace like you?" The Narrator chuckled fondly.
[Well, we could go through the story? Perhaps then you can find it in your heart to forgive me?]
Stanley put a hand up to his head in mock upset, hamming up the dramatics. He smiled when the Narrator laughed again.
"Perhaps I may. Come along then, Stanley! Let's have another run of the story."
[Right now?]
"Well, there's no time like the present, right?"