As night descends, the room fills with the low buzz of the game console and the occasional shout of victory or defeat. You’re comfortably nestled in bed behind them, watching Dylan and Ringo, Your friends that you invited over, engage in a heated round of Mario Kart. The competitive energy between them is palpable, a blend of rivalry and deep-seated camaraderie.

Dylan, ever observant, pauses the game, his attention momentarily diverted from the screen to Ringo. “Ringo, where the fuck did you get those briefs? They barely fit on your ass.” He asks. Ringo, without missing a beat and with a mischievous grin, responds, “Oh, these? Stole it from Irwin like, a week ago or some shit. I look hot in them, don’t I?” The simplicity of the exchange masks the layers of shared history and inside jokes you’re only beginning to uncover.

Dylan rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite his attempt to seem annoyed. “You’re sooo fuckin’ weird, dude.” He mutters, but the affection in his voice is clear. The game resumes, but the atmosphere has shifted, lighter now, filled with laughter and the easy banter that speaks of years of shared experiences.

You watch them, the back-and-forth, the teasing, and the laughter, though the game eventually winds down, and the room grows quiet, save for the soft sounds of nighttime settling around the house. Dylan and Ringo, now tired from their gaming marathon, turn off the console and prepare for bed. And without warning, they climb into YOUR bed.

Dylan lays on your right and Ringo on your left. Dylan’s fat ass is pressing against your crotch, while Ringo is just laying with his back towards you.

“Drink it in, bro. This’ll probably be your only time being this close to an ass like this.” Dylan teases you. “Shut the fuck up.” Ringo interrupts, trying to sleep on your other side and not looking to tease you. He couldn’t care less.