His lover's skin was white - dead, almost. Bone-like. His lips and nose were a shocking red, the red of blood, the red of cherries and strawberries and a thousand other fruits, and also the red of blood. That red... and his hair. His hair was the same shade, the same impossibly saturated shade, a color that screamed of fire and passion and ketchup. His hands were soft - or perhaps that was just the gloves, the silky mustard-yellow gloves that hid every inch of that white skin (or was it makeup? He couldn't tell.) His teeth were as white as his skin, and perfectly straight; his eyes were a nondescript un-color; his eyebrows arched high on his face as his red, red lips pulled back in a smile.

His lover's skin was pale, peachy, crossed with lines and creases from well-defined muscles. His lips were the same color, and were small - almost hidden in his face - his nose was a tiny pointed nub. And his hair. His hair was a beautiful black, and jutted out from his head in a half-dozen spikes that no amount of hair gel could accomplish. His hands were tough and callused, his eyebrows dark and angled. His cheekbones were sharp and his build generally stocky, each muscle rippling with power. And there - right there - curled around one of the clown's enormous red shoes, his lover's tail gently caressed the skin beneath his striped socks.

It was fate that had brought them together - it must have been. An accident of the universe, a hole between dimensions, that had somehow dropped this man of ketchup and mustard into the arms of the Saiyan. They had barely known each other for a day - or had it been only a few hours? Or minutes, even? Or had the clown appeared in Goku's embrace not even seconds ago?

Neither of us knew for sure.

But it was irrelevant. They were together. They were meant to be together, meant to be this close - but not even this close was close enough. No. No, they had to be closer. They had to be as beautifully, wonderfully close as any advertising and anime characters could ever be.

...

He reached one yellow-gloved hand for his partner's callused one. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Of course," was the response. His tail was waving anxiously, curling and uncurling around the baggy lower half of his lover's suit even as he slowly unzipped it.

"Allow me to assist you," the clown whispered, pulling his partner sensually out of his gi. They tossed their clothes unceremoniously into a corner of the nondescript room, and resumed their passionate embrace.

"Ronald," he whispered. "Are you... very, very sure?"

"Oh, Goku," the clown sighed contentedly, leaving his response hanging there for a moment as he again pressed his red, red lips to his partner's. "Put a smile on."

"Put a condom on," Goku retorted cheekily, rolling over in their bed.

Ronald hummed a bit, reaching into the bedside drawer that had materialized out of necessity and pulling out a condom, as well as something else in a small bottle.

"Lubricant?" Goku whispered, not wanting to break the mood, but also not wanting to break his ass.

"Special sauce," Ronald said, grinning.

"Perfect."

As Ronald unscrewed the bottle and donned the condom, giving it a healthy coating of the delectable, highly secret sauce. He glanced up from this meticulous task only when Goku's faint moans reached his ears... and stared in shock, as the Saiyan had begun preparing himself for their union - with his tail. "How..." Ronald gulped. "It's that prehensile?"

"Hm... ah... hnng... yes..."

"Ah. I see."

"...ah..."

It was mostly without ceremony when Ronald finally slid into Goku's warmth, joining anime and advertising forever, marking him, claiming him as the sole property of a fast food chain that would haunt his wet dreams for years upon years to come. It was with very little finesse that they began to rock together slowly, speeding up faster and faster until their pace was a frantic one, until neither could breathe.

"Ronald..."

"Goku..."

"Ronald!"

"Go... gok... how are you doing?"

"Ronald, I'm... I'm almost... I'm..."

"Me too. I'm..."

"Ronald?"

"Goku?"

"...I'm loving it!"

"..."

And when they finally came, together, there was no special sauce special enough, no big macs big enough, no happy meals happy enough to properly describe the sheer joy, the bliss, of their union. And so the Saiyan and the clown fell asleep, the former's tail wrapped around the other's garish yellow suit. And they lived happily ever after.

Are you happy now, tumblr?
Are. You. Happy. Now?