Sorry. This was rushed and is really retarded. This is how guys act when girls aren't around whether you like it or not—their attitude at least. This isn't phone sex.
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys.

The B-boy waited patiently for the boy on the other side of town to pick up his phone; he was in too good of a mood for anything or anyone to ruin it. His smile never faltered, not even when he tripped over the weeds growing from the cracks in the sidewalk. Mo hummed his own rendition of 'Brick House' and let the phone ring a couple more times before hanging up and practically floating across town. 'Bust a Move' rang out and he immediately slid his phone open, eagerly pressing it to his ear.

"Shit, man. It didn't even ring once," the other muttered.
"Shutup. Guesswhat?" Mo rambled, his words stringing together because he was speaking so quickly.

MacCoy huffed into the phone, sitting up from his usual 'just-flop-on-the-bed position', and blandly inquired what the fuck was so important at 2 am.
"That late?"
"No, asshole. That early," the blond snapped.

Mo laughed loudly, passing by a suspicious couple on a street corner, and made his way to the next traffic light. Amber eyes briefly hovered over the graffiti decorating the bridge under the overpass and Mo relished in the fact that his crew owned this specific part of town. It was a huge accomplishment, despite outward appearances, because these were bad people—at least in the eyes of most surrounding his city.

"I always forget ya aint a mornin' person," he teased.
"Yea, well, fuck ya and the skateboard ya rode in on. What'cha callin' fer anyways? Shit, let me get comfy." The blond shuffled around on his bed, flicking on his rigged X-box and TV via remote, and grunted for Mo to continue. Crackling, something akin to a plastic bag, sounds were coming from his side and Mo must've guessed he was eating again.

The prankster eagerly began again, feeling childish for a moment before shaking the thoughts away. MacCoy popped a can of soda, the loud snap and fizz audible even on the phone, before slurping up the contents.
"Lemme get some words out, damn," the older male huffed. His buzz was starting to wear off and he really needed to share this before he was at that point where he didn't feel like bragging about it anymore.
He received a grunt in response and a, "Fuck you, it's my day off."

Amber eyes rolled and he continued, nearly reaching his apartment, "Guess who's a screamer."
There was a too-drawn-out silence on the other end and a low, slightly confused, "What?"
"Keira," he supplied almost reverently.

The blond shot up instantly; no slouching, no crusty sleep in his eyes, no languidly flicking the buttons on his controller because something big just happened. "Congrats?"
"Hell yea congrats. I think this shawty's the right one."

There was that lovesick tone in his voice that the blond hated to hear. Bragging about sex, before all the details, was a natural 'guy thing', but falling for almost every girl a guy fucks wasn't. Mo attached himself too easily, sometimes even smothering the other with his zealous affections, and MacCoy was always that friend to cry on. Sure, he loved his homie, but there's only so much damage he could take from his best friend's pain before tears stained his shoulders. Quite frankly, it was as emotionally draining for him as it was for Mo.
"Whyyy?" MacCoy mentally cursed himself, wishing he extracted the long groaning sigh from the vowel.

The downrocker didn't seem to notice or care, but he scoped his surroundings before fishing for his keys and unlocking his apartment door. "Jus' got back her place," he paused for laughter and was satisfied with 'Coy's forced chuckle, "She jus' what every guy wants, man."

"I dunno what ta say," the other started, "That's good?"
Mo let out a sheepish laugh, "Yeah. Ya cool? Could at least be a bit more enthusiastic 'bout this."
The Russian shifted the phone from his right shoulder to his left. "Sorry, jus' tired as hell. Also. This happens a lot."

The downrocker's head jerked back with a 'what the fuck' expression plastered on his face. He ignored his bed and made his way to the kitchen, flinging his hoodie off. He must've left his shirt at her place. A small smile graced his lips but…back to the matter at hand.
"What'chu talkin' 'bout?"
There was a long pause while MacCoy dragged his hand down his face, letting out a loud groan at the end. "Ya makin' a sandwich, ain't cha?"

"I'm eatin' a sandwich. So yea," he mumbled, words tumbling together and hard to decipher. A pickle slice fell to the floor and Mo promptly plopped it in his mouth.
"Ya made it 'fore ya left the house? Sick fuck," the blond jested, taking a deep breath, "Y'know what? I'mma let'cha go. Got work in the morning."

"Thought it was yo' day off. Still didn't answer my question."
"Fuck, I know. I was lyin'. Switch to Live cuz this shit's killin' my neck."

Headphones replaced cell phones and both parties grinned like idiots into the black foam. Another session of L4D2 started up and the boys occupied themselves with that until the tension bubbled over.
"Aight. Y'know I'm always straight up wit'cha, so I'mma jus' lay this hand out on the table and royally flush this shit down the toilet," ''Coy began, waiting for Mo to give the okay to continue.

"Ya always," there was a sigh; "ya always get so caught up in some sort of love spell after ya fuck a girl. Like, ya can't jus' hit it and quit it, ya gotta make it out ta be like yer gettin' engaged and shit. It ain't even like these girls yer seein' are, oh fuck you don't shoot me, are top-notch bitches. They're…nasty."
Mo wasn't seething at this point, which could've been a good or bad sign, but he was handling the concept of friendly fire rather well. A dark satisfaction bloomed within his chest whenever MacCoy paused from his speech to whine about it. "It ain't like that."

"It is like that," he insisted, turning his Ellis around to shoot Nick.
"Proof," the prankster demanded indignantly, firing back.
"Shit, lemme get my list. I chronicled where yo' dick has been," MacCoy replied cheekily, banging his controller on the table in frustration.
Mo laughed, muttering a 'finefine', and allowed MacCoy to continue.

"All I'm sayin' is, ya shoulda waited ta have sex. I bet'cha got all kinds of diseases and shit, so nasty ya prolly got freezer burn and road rash," the goggled dancer added in an attempt to lighten the mood.
He earned a chuckle from Mo because that wasn't necessarily true—the disease part anyway.
"We can't all be virgins forever like yo' white ass, 'Coy."
MacCoy shrugged the comment off, "Ya prolly ain't that good in bed anyways."

"I'd be your new porn," he said offhandedly, picking off a couple of Commons in the distance.
"ChocolateMan Bad at Sex: Volume One," his friend countered.
Mo snorted, "So there are more than one of these porns?"
"They come in installments that are full of viruses that give yo' computer road rash and freezer burn."

"I could make ya bite the pillow," Mo answered.
MacCoy laughed, "Ew, man."
He pinched his nose for a slightly nasally affect, "Uhhhnnn, Mo. Fuck me harder."
"Woah, fuck, dude. That's crossin' it," the goggled male replied, laughing awkwardly.
"I'd give ya what'cha want though."

"Tch, whatever. Stop already," he replied nervously.
"All I heard was, 'ohgodModon'tstop'."
MacCoy licked his lips, contemplating playing along. "I'd rather ya fuck me against the wall."
There was a slight chuckle from Mo's end because this was more of a game to him still. "Not our first time. It'd be somewhere softer. Like…hey, are ya even playin' anymore? Ellis is jus' fuckin' stands there blabbin' 'bout Keith."

The other struggled to keep his voice level when he lied, "Yea, the game…is laggin'." He wanted to usher the other on but he knew if he did that Mo would drop the act and he'd be left with a half-hard cock and a horde on his ass.
"So…anyways," he began, more than grateful when Mo interrupted him for the sake of his prank.
"So, anyways, everythin' would be slow and I'd push ya on the bed, grindin' soft and steady, makin' ya whine like the lil' bitch ya are. Wouldn't even hafta touch ya."

"That'd prolly be sexier if ya didn't call me a bitch," the toprocker replied truthfully.
Mo snorted, "Did'ja fix it yet?" MacCoy hummed a response, not trusting his voice.
"I'd kiss ya soft and slow and—"
"I'd arch up, ruttin' my hips mercilessly," MacCoy responded too eagerly.

"Shit, that works too," Mo commented proudly.
MacCoy allowed himself a small smile. "Then what?"
"What? Ya want me ta keep goin'?" Mo asked distractedly.
The blond's breath hitched in his throat at the choice of words and he nodded before realizing that his friend couldn't see him. Lids closed over dark blues as MacCoy released his controller and allowed himself to lie back on his bed. His hand trailed towards his inner thigh. "Yea, keep goin'."

"Uhh, why?"
By the tone of his voice the aspiring DJ knew his friend was growing uncomfortable but the burning feeling in the pit of his stomach pushed him forward.
"Ya said ya were gonna give me what I want."
Rough coughing erupted from Mo's end and MacCoy's hand hovered back over the bulge in his boxers. The head of his dick poked out from the slat in his boxers and he stared at the swollen flesh wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

Mo didn't give him what he wanted like he had hoped, like he promised, so he settled for soft strokes whenever his friend spoke and Mo rambled a lot when he was nervous.
"MacCoy what are ya doin'?"
"Ya jus' playin' 'round, right?"
"Ya fell asleep, huh?"

The first breath MacCoy let out fizzed through the receiver and Mo caught on by the third sharp exhale. Mo's hands were steadily removing his headphones but stopped when MacCoy moaned his name. The next moan was harsher and throatier; he found himself smashing the earpiece to the side of his face. The blond keened loudly one final time, his breathing turned short and shallow, and he sighed out his friend's name.

"Woah."

MacCoy's heart jumped, his skin crawled with anxiety, and his tone was so soft Mo had to struggle to hear him. "Yer still there?"
He sounded surprised by this new revelation, as Mo was too, before a smirk found its way on Mo's face. "Damn, I'm good."

"Aw, fuck."