46. Lust (279)

Sometimes the burny, tingly feeling twisted in his tummy before Brain even started on his plan thingies. Pinky couldn't always help it. His husband was a very attractive husband and he loved being so close to him. Purring, he'd rub against Brain's back until the flustered and/or irritated megalomaniac waved him away. "After the plan, Pinky. You know that."

The rejection always stung a little more when Pinky needed him so badly. It tempted him to play an unfair card and simply squeak at him, roll onto his belly and wiggle his hips in the way Brain liked to watch, but he knew how important the plans were. So he'd slink away, the fire burning in his belly and refusing to be smothered for what felt like forever.

But he could usually push the feelings away, distract himself with TV or working out or playing all sorts of fun-fun silly-willy games! Sometimes he distracted himself a little too well, though, and Brain would hit a block and need some love things to get him through it.

The problem with Brain, though it really wasn't a problem at all, was that he could never ask for them the way Pinky could. He'd stutter, blush, be extra grumpy and demanding when Pinky didn't catch on to the funny way he worded things. But if Pinky was patient enough, Brain would come and rub against him and brush his lips against his ear and then Pinky didn't need any words to know what his husband wanted.

He didn't want to wave him away from love things if he could help it, but sometimes his chubby hubby love was just so con-fused.

47. Longing (366)

He woke up alone.

It happened a lot more often than he was used to, but then again, he was going to all sorts of new places every night and he'd never done that before. It was exciting and fun-fun silly-willy most of the time, but not when he had these kinds of dreams.

Sometimes they were scary and he could never find anyone in his whole, big ol' family. Not even his chubby hubby. Or there'd be monsters eating everyone or never-ending mazes or worse... Brain saying he didn't love him anymore. He'd wake up crying and continue crying because no one was in the big bed with him. Within minutes of waking up, sometimes taking longer if he was really especially scared, he'd scramble from the mess of blankets to the phone and call the set of numbers he'd made sure to memorize. Sometimes Brain didn't answer, not expecting his husband to call at four in the morning his time, but most times he did and stayed on the phone as long as he needed, canceling meetings or postponing speeches while he soothed his lover back to sleep. When Brain didn't answer, he sat on the window sill and looked out at the stars and pretended he was helping Brain find his feck back when their lab was a lab and their plans were every tomorrow night.

The other kinds of dreams weren't scary, but they left him missing Brain even more. His touch, his scent, the way he kissed, the way they loved. He wanted to be held, wanted to hold, to lick and taste and make Brain shiver and cling to him. He wanted him in the bed, right up close beside him. Pinky would wait a while to call when his skin itched and his gut throbbed, each shift of the blankets around him torture. Sometimes Brain's voice made it worse, and he always seemed to know when it had been that kind of dream, but he'd talk to him in his smarty way and the itch would go away.

"I promise we'll be together soon," Brain's voice would murmur from millions of miles away.

And Brain always kept his promises.

48. Tender (387)

Pinky could take a lot. Pain was never really pain for him, if anything he took pleasure in what typically caused other people aches. It was why he giggled when he was bopped, whooped for joy when they were catapulted into a wall, doubled over with laughter when Brain took aim with a spoon and didn't hold back.

But it was pain just the same and Brain didn't dish out his punishments so Pinky could laugh about them (though it wasn't his intention to make him cry either, he really wasn't sure what his intention was when he hit him, only that it relaxed him some and Pinky didn't mind). Pain was meant for the plans, for the punishment, for when his annoyance with his companion blew through the roof. It was not for love things.

Perhaps it was because they endured so much when doing anything else that Brain kept his touches soft and light. Perhaps it was because he couldn't say the words that every kiss was filled with love and adoration. On the rare occasions where they decided one of them would have complete control for the evening and it would be Brain's turn, the thoughts he'd entertain of making his lover cry for him, beg for him, scream for him vanished as soon as he had that warm body beneath him and every touch was gentle and soothing and everything he couldn't give him when they weren't caught up like this.

He still made Pinky beg for him, by being so tender and slow, drawing out each climax until neither of them could take it anymore. And Pinky would beg for harder, wanted rougher, ask to be punished, could handle any pain because to him pain was pleasure. But despite the possessive growls and love bites and the way he gripped his hips so hard they bruised, Brain couldn't bring himself to do more than that.

Pinky deserved softness and love and warmth and would he want these things if Brain hadn't ingrained them in him in the first place? So he stroked his belly as he came down from his high and kissed his eyelids and nuzzled his neck. And Pinky would smile at him, the special smile that was just for him, and he knew he was doing good by him.

49. Hard (552)

The little boy twisted his tail between his hands and stared at his feet. This was a bad idea. Bad, bad, bad. He shouldn't have knocked on the door. No, it had been a quiet knock. Grandpa just shouldn't have heard it. But he couldn't blame his grandpa; his grandpa was amazing. That's why it was so hard to talk to him.

Actually, it was hard to talk to everyone, but especially hard to talk to him. And now he was waiting for him to talk. Standing there on his big desk, behind his little desk, waiting.

He could run. He was a good runner. And then he could sit between his parents, put his daddy between him and grandpa so he wouldn't talk to him at dinner. Then he couldn't ask him why he came in and said nothing and left and he wouldn't have to answer and then they could forget all about it. Apple could help with that. She was always talking to grandpa. She could distract him.

Jack's ears shot straight up as the emperor cleared his throat. His little head followed and his pink eyes were practically bulging out of his head. Brain blinked at him from behind his spectacles, having not anticipated that reaction. Every muscle in the spotted child's body was coiled in preparation to bolt. "Jack, you may say whatever you like." He picked his words carefully, it seemed anything could cause the child to clam up.

"I-I..." His shoulders hunched up and he released his tail to clasp his hands behind him. "I... umm..." He licked his lips several times, his voice hardly more than a whisper until he swallowed thickly. "I h-have a question, grandpa..."

The little boy was unaware of the strength it took for the older mouse to not roll his eyes. That would only result in five steps backwards; this child could not take it in the way others in the family could. "Yes?"

Jack's gaze flicked about the room, almost hoping Apple would burst in or his Aunt Bella would skip in with baby Nancy and leave her with grandpa. Grandpa looked at baby Nancy all soft and gentle and he let Apple hug him all time and hugged back a ton. Jack could barely look at his grandpa in the eye, let alone hug him. Even though he really wanted to. He was just really amazing, too amazing to just hug.

And he liked both of Apple's parents. And he liked both of Nancy's parents, most of the time.

He only liked one of his parents, and Jack looked very much like both.

He continued to fidget, crossing and uncrossing his legs and finally met his gaze again. "Grandpa, do you-? Do you-? Why don't you like me as much as Apple and Nancy?"

And Jack bolted. Not because his grandpa looked mad or scary or anything like that... no, it was because he'd broken him. He'd made him so sad, the boy was afraid his amazing grandpa was going to start crying and he couldn't see that.

It was even harder, though, to slink back to his office before bedtime that night and reach out for a hug and whisper, "I'm sorry." But he felt so much better for it, especially when he was hugged back.

50. Rebirth (873)

"You are my sunshine..."

Brain looked up wearily, his gaze drawn towards the scattered plans and formulae. Unfinished, impossible, failures. They were all failures, nothing was working. His arms tightened around his dear and choked back a wheezy sound at the thought that nothing would work.

"My only sunshine..."

Pinky had been singing that ridiculous song when he'd first noticed. Days later than he should've. Days far, far too late. He'd looked up, saw his husband dancing in the square of sunlight glowing on the countertop, kicking up clouds of dust so fine that it appeared almost ethereal as he sang. Nothing was altogether that different. Not upon first glance and not to someone who didn't know Pinky as intimately as he did.

But he was a little chubbier, not in an unhealthy way but in the way toddlers retained baby fat. His fur was shinier, softer looking, newer. His tail was shorter, by only a centimeter, maybe two at the most. But he was different.

"You make me happy..."

By the time Brain got the results of the tests, he'd found that his husband had lost an entire year in six days. Every twelve hours he lost a month of his life.

"Pinky..." Wide pink eyes stared at his companion disbelievingly, but now he saw. Everything was younger. Each line in his face, each strand in his fur, each sparkle in his eye... "It... it hit you?"

The solution he'd made to prevent Snowball from continuously being a threat; his regression formula. It was supposed to regress the hamster's mental state to that of a non-gene spliced rodent. He'd come too close to harming his lover during their last encounter, and his pride of rubbing his world rule in his face was not worth the risk of Pinky's life.

But he'd missed Snowball, he knew it had not hit his intended target and he'd only had one shot. He didn't know where it had ended up. Unless... "No, Pinky... no, it didn't... please tell me it didn't."

"'Kay. It didn't, Brain."

"When skies are gray..."

The bundle in his arms squeaked, jarring him from his glazed over gaze, prompting him to shush and nuzzle. Bleary blue eyes stared up at him, worried about him even though soon they wouldn't be able to see anything. He'd already draped a black tarp over their cage, to keep out the light.

A tiny nose rubbed against his jaw, nudging him in the direction of his plans. He should be trying. He was close to finding an antidote, he knew it. He was so close. But he couldn't put him down. If he kept looking at him, kept holding him, maybe he wouldn't change anymore. He couldn't look away in the chance that when he'd look back he wouldn't be there. It had been particularly disturbing when he'd first buried himself in the project; he'd been with his year old husband one minute and the next Pinky's ears came up to his shoulder and he was whining about how he couldn't reach the water bottle anymore.

The months melted away much faster after twelve.

Brain cradled him closer as his baby eyelids drooped, praying that this wouldn't be the last time he'd see the brilliant color. The baby huffed out a shaky breath, the poor thing trembling as more clumps of fur stuck to Brain's palm. It wasn't supposed to work like this. He'd never wish this upon anyone, not even Snowball. He'd only wanted to regress him to a natural state, not... regress him. Sure, Pinky hadn't minded at first; he'd actually had great fun getting to sit on Brain's lap and getting carried around and getting away with doing baby things he normally didn't get away with. It had been fun until he'd opened his mouth to say "I love you" and all that came out was a squeak. It had been fun until Pinky tried to wrap Brain up in a hug and his little arms couldn't quite reach. It had been fun until Pinky realized there was only so far back one could go.

Now there were only squeaky cries, sounds so garbled that Brain couldn't tell who he was crying for anymore.

"You'll never know, dear," he murmured into the tiny ear, pressed a feather-light kiss to his brow. "How much I love you..."

His eyes finally closed on a hiccuppy sniffle, and from the way they had fought valiantly to stay open and fixated on him, Brain knew that it was for the last time. Unless he could fix it. He could, there was time, he could still fix it.

A tiny fist lifted, little fingers curling and uncurling against his chest as it bumped along, sightlessly seeking something. He stopped right over his heart, petting gently and Brain's chest tightened as he heaved out a broken sob. No, don't comfort me. Don't, please don't. But the little hand didn't leave and the tired, weak squeaks didn't stop.

He wouldn't allow them to stop, not when there was still time.

Brain raised his heavy head wearily, gaze on the clock that hung on the wall. The treacherous hands inched closer to the twelve.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

Ugh... Rebirth... just gets me every time...

But Pinky's okay! I feel like I do this a lot, I end right before I reveal whether or not either of them will be okay xD It's a mystery. Though I suppose if you wanted them to not be okay, then there's that too. But in my head, Brain finds an antidote and gets Pinky all better and back to normal.

Yes.
Also! Some adult content in here, but nothing too bad. I don't think... Except that Pinky's into bondage and S/M xDDDDDDDDDDD He's far too kinky for his own good, poor thing lol.

Oh, and baby Jack! Cici and Colby's spotted son. Silly baby thinks his grandpa doesn't love him as much as his cousins. Jack is painfully shy, would rather never speak at all until his little brother Neocortex shows up lol. Neo is the exact opposite, he always has things to say. He likes to feel important. Brat.

Next up: Amused, Broken, Abused, Tranquil, Composed