Fado and Vigarde would totally be Friends with (Occasional) Benefits.

Rated M for: Sex, Frottage

It was not necessarily strange that Fado and Vigarde were drunk on a Friday night, especially not because they were at home, sprawled out on their old couch. It was a bit unusual that Hayden wasn't there, but that had never kept them from drinking. What was strange, though, was the fact that Vigarde was ranting angrily.

"-and I told her, y'know, told her." Vigarde gestured wildly and desperately searched for those elusive words he wanted to say. Fado was resting his head on his shoulder and watched him lazily. "That I didn' want a relationship, y'know. But she just... cried and stuff." He snapped his head over to Fado. "Y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"I told her I just wanted to fuck." Vigarde frowned angrily and crossed his arms, almost slapping Fado accidentally. "But she cried an' cried. Stupid women."

"Don' be so hard on 'em," Fado said and petted his friend's leg. "Ma'be ya was unclear again."

"Unclear? I'm no unclear," Vigarde argued.

"'s okay. 's over now." Vigarde hmph-ed, still miffed, but his shoulders relaxed and he took another deep gulp of their beer-schnapps mix. Fado sighed, a tad tired, and snuggled up to Vigarde.

"You're cuddly again," Vigarde remarked.

"Hm-hm."

"… Whatever." Vigarde finished the can of schnapps-beer, crumbled it up and threw it in the general direction of the bin. He leaned his head against the backrest of the couch and stared at the ceiling. After a moment, Fado shifted and put his arms around Vigarde. "What'cha doing there?" Vigarde asked confused.

"Nothin'," Fado answered and squeezed Vigarde.

"Doesn't look like 'nuthing'," he argued.

"I wanna cuddle," Fado said in an almost whiny voice and buried his face in Vigarde's shirt.

"Okay," Vigarde sighed and tilted his head so it was resting atop Fado's head. They stayed like this for a while; Vigarde slowly relaxed and slumped against Fado. "This's nice," he slurred eventually.

"Yeah." Fado squeezed Vigarde closer and rested his head in Vigarde's crook of the neck. He shivered when Fado's breath caressed his skin.

"Fado?"

"Huh?"

"You're ticklin' me." Fado raised his head, an almost comically confused expression on his face. "You're breathin' all over me." The confusion very slowly turned into a frown.

"Let me," he whined and returned his head to where it was lying before. Vigarde hmph-ed but didn't keep Fado from doing it. Soon the warm breath ghosted over his skin again.

It stayed uncomfortable for less than a minute. Then Vigarde suddenly noticed that it actually felt pretty nice. He closed his eyes slowly; only now he felt Fado's warmth all over his body, his strong arms around him and his lips lightly lying on his skin. Vigarde's breathing immediately grew heavy and short. He shifted slightly to the right; suddenly Fado's lips were pressing against his skin. Just like a kiss. Something in Vigarde's belly tightened.

Vigarde froze in this position and let the pleasant feeling grow. His blood started to boil and creep downwards. When his trousers finally felt far too small, he tilted his head so that his mouth was close to Fado's ear. "Fado?" he whispered, his voice involuntarily husky.

"Hm?" Fado looked up; he seemed sleepy. He blinked confused at Vigarde's look. It took him several seconds until he understood. A grin spread on his face. "You're horny," he said with a giggly voice. Vigarde nodded wordlessly. Slowly and sluggishly, Fado pushed himself up – Vigarde snatched at him. Still grinning, Fado made to sit in Vigarde's lap. Vigarde's hands shot under Fado's shirt, grasping his hip.

He smashed his lips against Vigarde's. The kiss was long and messy – they were too drunk to dislike it, though. They had to concentrate too much on their hands and hips anyway. Fado sneaked his fingers under Vigarde's belt and pulled; Vigarde tilted his hip up and moaned happily when his throbbing groin pressed against Fado. Smirking into their sloppy kiss, Fado slowly – painfully slowly – started to move. In long strokes, he ground his groin against Vigarde's. The rough texture of Vigarde's jeans rubbed against his sensitive organ and he all but sighed in delight.

Vigarde's hands shot down to Fado's ass and he tried to pull him closer, to make him grind harder – he needed more. He needed friction, he needed touch, oh god he wanted to get off so badly. But Fado just slowed down and kissed him deeply. Vigarde wanted to protest, but Fado did incredible things to his tongue so that he suffered silently.

After a moment Vigarde's need grew unbearably and his shaky fingers searched for Fado's belt. Suddenly Fado stopped altogether. Vigarde whined into his friend's mouth. No matter what he did, Fado didn't start moving his hips again. No matter how much they kissed – thank goodness, Fado hadn't stopped that as well – or how much Vigarde pulled at him. "Why," Vigarde asked and immediately kissed Fado again.

"Hands off," he said when Vigarde finally let him. Growling, Vigarde complied and shifted his hands away from Fado's belt. As soon as Vigarde's hands were on Fado's ass did he move again. Growling with delight and neediness, Vigarde threw his head back. Again the rubbing and the delightful pressure and then there was Fado's lips against his neck and he just wanted to come.

Vigarde's whole body seemed to tickle. His skin crawled with pleasure – he would've never thought that the feeling of a jeans rubbing against him could be so good. His mouth standing open, Vigarde gasped at every up and down movement. His pleasure had already clouded his mind, but part of him noticed that Fado quickened his pace. "Yes," Vigarde whispered. He heard Fado's breathing quickening as well. Vigarde clutched his ass tighter. So close, he knew he was so close. Jerks went through his whole body, small at first, then there was a grand shock flashing through his body and he came, his jeans becoming wet. Fado continued grinding and slowly Vigarde's head grew clearer. He lowered his hand to cup Fado's groin. With his help, Fado came as well and slumped on Vigarde's lap.

Both men rested like this for a moment. Vigarde sighed comfortably. "You know," he said, his speech a bit less slurred than before. Fado looked up; he seemed contented as well. "We wouldn' have to wash our jeans if you did sumthin' else." Fado snorted and pushed himself off his friend's lap.

"Didn't want to." Fado grabbed his bottle of beer and emptied it in one swing. Then he pushed himself to his feet; he swayed slightly. "I'ma gonna go to bed."

"Yeah," Vigarde sighed and stood up as well. Both wobbled to their respective rooms and almost immediately fell asleep.

The next day, neither of them felt particularly good when they noticed that their pants were sticking to them. They swore no sex when they were too drunk to clean up afterwards.