[𝓔𝓝𝓓] ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ [𝒯𝒶𝑒𝒯𝑒𝑒'𝓈 𝒱𝑒𝓇𝓈. 𝐸𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽]

Part 5

Beam was so utterly piss drunk that if he had looked at his hand, he'd think someone had sawed his feet off and replaced them with his hands (when he screamed about this as Forth teleported them back to his apartment, it took him nearly half an hour to calm him down). Beam didn't get drunk often, actually, he had only been drunk like this once before, at a graduation party. He was in the top ten, so him and the nine others were treated like royalty at this party and drinks were dumped onto them like compliments from parents.

"Oh shit, Forth, look, oh shit, look at that." Beam had his hand under his chin, rubbing the imaginary beard as he glared at the fallen mirror he had bumped into. The mirror that originally hung on his door was leaning on the door instead of hanging, and a large crack was down the center.

Forth blinked at it, and the crack was gone. Beam yelled about his gratefulness, holding onto Forth's leather jacket with both hands and shaking him so furiously that they both ended up falling on their butts onto the floor in a fit of giggles. Their laughing ceased when they had just realized how long they were staring each other in the eyes. Their noses touched, and Beam felt like he was suffocating within the small space between them.

Lips on lips, and hands running up and down tingly skin. Beam was being so vulnerable, and even his drunk self was telling him to slow down, get ahold of yourself! Though he ignored everything but the violent shudders of ecstasy trickling down his back, up his nape, through his arms and legs. It sort of freaked him out, he was kissing Death on his bedroom floor. Death.. Forth wasn't the same Death that was personified in movies and books. He was difficult at times, but, now? Beam felt head over heels and dizzy with emotion. Until he felt a hand on the back of his head, supporting him upright and keeping him sitting tall, leaning into Forth, mouths opening and closing down to bite on lips.

Kinky, Beam thought. Sex with Death. A reaper. Someone capable of killing you, someone who you know is a killer. It's his job–no one can help it. Oh God that's something new, he grunted when hands made their way to squeeze his ass, he knew he was packin' on that side, always got told that people only dated him for that ass. And oh Lord, that was something unexpected, a hand was palming him through his jeans fabric. Beam had to break away, he was panting and had buried his face deep into Forth's neck, feeling his hot breath bounce off his collarbones and into his face. His breath smelled strongly like beer, which was never a great combo.

"Consent." Forth said deeply, which made Beam shiver–Death cared about consent. How sweet. "Beam you gotta give me your consent or else I will actually leave you here to jerk off by yourself and never touch you again." Forth took his hands away.

"Granted. Access, please touch me." Beam grabbed onto his wrists and pulled them into his waist.

"Turn around, back to my chest, look in the mirror." Forth had almost purred, rolling his r's and hitting the hard syllables softly. Beam did as he was told, bending on his knees so his feet were behind Forth. He had his arms around Death's neck, fingertips leaving crescent moons on his skin. "You sure this is okay?"

"Yes," Beam nodded enthusiastically and his jeans were being unzipped with one hand as well as unbuttoned (which even Beam couldn't do with two hands sober) and hiked down to his thighs. Beam couldn't help but let out a high whine when someone else's hand was around his dick other than his own. Foreign, no man's land, unidentifiable.

"You okay?"

"Fucking hell, you're Death, at least be a little more rough–holy shit," Beam sobbed (not a crying sob, but his chest shook and stuttered), throwing his head back when Forth had given a few vigorous jerks with no hesitance. Forth turned his head to Beam, obviously concerned. "I'm good, I promise. It's been a while. Please don't hold back."