Adult Content Warning
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Summary
“Hey,” Larry says. He smooths Freddy’s damp hair from his forehead. “You okay?”
Freddy groans again, louder, like the situation is starting to sink in. He twists his head weakly against the grass, then hikes it up to look down at himself. His chest hitches, three short breaths, as he raises his palm from the wound, scarlet gleaming. “I don’t know.”
Larry presses his lips to Freddy’s temple. “Lift your shirt.”
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AKA they have nasty Cronenberg Crash sex.