SCP WiPs that I'll never finish.

Icy release chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

They were on the third season of Kitchen Nightmares on Netflix, Ice insisted they watched as Gears had never seen it. Gears's body was aching, in an attempt to relieve his discomfort, he shuffled and moved his arm. Iceberg began giggling.

"Stop." He laughed, leaning away from Gears' arm.

'He's ticklish.'

Gears moved the opposite arm and Ice giggled again. "Stop it!"

Gears, gave him a malicious grin before jabbing his sides making him laugh harder. Ice gave a feeble attempt at escape to no avail, Gears was too fast. Snatching Ice by the waist, he pulled him forward and trapped him under his weight, giving the smaller man no mercy. Ice squealed, red faced and breathless, jostling from side to side trying desperately to escape.

"STOP! STOP! STOP IT PLEASE!!" He laughed again.

He kicked Gears and rolled to catch his breath, forgetting they were on a couch. They fell off. Ice landed on his back, wheezing from the play fight, Gears landed face-first on his crotch. Gears jumped back, slamming the back of his skull against the low coffee table next to him. A stutter of light and color danced before him as he curled back to his previous position. Meanwhile, Ice cackled, not minding his boss' position.

Gears groaned. "Sorry...sorry. Shouldn't've..." He switched to German. "Mist." He whispered breathily, then back to English. "...done that."

Ice snickered. "It's fine, don't mind really."

Gears looked up. "Don't mind what?"

"This." Ice shifted his legs so that they didn't encapsulate Gears' head.

Gears blushed, glancing over at one of Ice's squishy thighs. For a second he thought of how it would feel to have his head squeezed between them, how it would feel to bite them and hear Ice moan. He pressed his legs together, trying to ignore the heat in his belly. He thought he'd suppressed such thoughts better.

'I'm disappointed Charles, I really am. Submitting to such dirty thoughts, you should be ashamed for yourself. You're going to burn those filthy thoughts away, yes? When you pray for forgiveness tonight? Dirty, dirty boy, God will never forgive you... you'll rot in hell, wretch.' His father sang into his ears.

Gears pondered the words, he'll need to pray tonight for sure, burn his sin away, wash it clean.

"Gears!"

He looked up, Ice stared back concerned.

"Did you hear me?"

He shook his head.

"I asked if you were okay, it sounded like you hit your head pretty hard and you looked kinda scared for a second." Ice said, sitting up.

Gears blinked. "Yes, I'm alright."

Ice shifted so that he sat on his knees, he waddled over and touched Gears' cheek. His other hand gently felt over the back of his skull. "You sure?"

Gears accepted his doting, adoring the way his soft hand ran itself through his hair with care. "Positive."

For a moment more, Ice continued, finishing his examination. He shrugged. "If you say so, but don't come running to me for help when you find out you've got a concussion."

Gears rolled his eyes. "I don't have a concussion, worrywart."

"Worrywart?! Since when have I been a worrywart?"

"Since you figured out how much I work."

"Working as much as you do isn't healthy." Ice cooed pinching Gears' cheek.