Duncan's Donut

Title: Duncan’s Donut
Couple: Peter and Duncan
Author: Tarabeth & Nicole
Words and Music: Sheb Wooley
Implements: Hand

Duncan bumped down the stairs, dressed like a giant Starbuck’s cup of coffee at the sound of the door opening. His grin melted into a shocked frown when he saw Peter on crutches. "What happened to you?"

Peter let out a long sigh, "I sprained my ankle demonstrating proper hurdling technique to the seventh graders."

Duncan wrinkled his nose. "I'll bring you a sandwich, then, while you get dressed and practice walking on those in your costume."

"Duncan, sweetie, I am so sorry, but I can't go to the party. These crutches are killing me and I have got to get my foot up and on ice."

"But you promised! And a cup of coffee's not going to make any sense if you're not coming as 'Duncan's Donut.'"

"I know I did. I'm sorry love, come here, come sit with me," Peter motioned to Duncan to come join him on the sofa. Duncan waddled to the sofa and started to sit, but found he was unable to bend at the waist.

"Fuck!" Duncan looked at his costume, then at the couch and tried a different tactic, falling back onto the couch, but the costume bent in strange places, and it was uncomfortable. So he pushed himself up with a scowl and a kick at the couch. "Stupid costume!"

"Duncan, honey, breathe," Peter tried to calm his partner before he worked himself into a major huff.

Duncan glared at Peter but took a couple of deep breaths. "Well it is a stupid costume, especially if you're not coming." He gave him a beseeching look.

"It isn't stupid, and you love costume parties. All our friends will be there, you should go. I’m sure you will still have a good time without me," Peter said, hoping to reassure his brat. But his reassurances didn't seem to be doing any good as Duncan continued to stand before him with his arms resting on the sides of the cup right about where his hips should be.

"You're seriously not coming?" Duncan scowled, then turned toward the door. "Fine. If you really want to spend Halloween all by yourself, I'm leaving."

"Duncan Thomas Black you get your little caffeinated self back here now," Peter called him with a very stern tone, "I may be injured, but my spanking arm is just fine.”

Duncan sighed and turned back around, waddling a little closer to Peter. "I don't want to be late."

"You didn't want to go a minute ago, so I think you can handle being a little late," Peter said, as he reached out and gently took hold of Duncan's hand. "Duncan, baby, I am so sorry I spoiled our plans," Peter began to softly stroke the palm of Duncan's hand with his thumb, "but, I don't want you going to the party angry."

Duncan calmed a little at the touch. "I'm not angry. I just want you to go with me. Why can't you just try the crutches?"

"Honey, my ankle is swollen and sore, I really need to sit down and ice it."

"So you do want to spend Halloween by yourself," Duncan said flatly. "Can I go now?"

"In a minute," Peter said calmly, unwilling to add fire to Duncan's tantrum, "what time are you going to be home?"

"Maybe around one, one thirty. I'll be quiet when I come in."

Peter slowly counted to five, he knew he was the cause of Duncan's unhappiness, but he was in pain, tired and at the end of his patience, and he did not appreciate being pushed. "What time do you have to be at work in the morning."

"I'll just go to bed a little early tomorrow night, Peter. It'll be fine."

Peter’s voice began to show that his patience was running low, "That was not what I asked. Please answer my question."

"I have to be there by 8:30." Duncan was beginning to sound a little impatient himself.

"So, don't you think maybe you should come home a little earlier than one-thirtyish?" Peter asked.

"Why don't you just tell me when you want me here?" Duncan grumbled.

"Fine, I would like you home at 11:00 pm."

"That's so early! The party will only be half over by then."

"You asked and I set a time," Peter said, giving Duncan a stern look, "Please ask Nick and Marty to walk you home after the party."

Duncan sighed. "Yes sir. Now can I go?"

"I'd like a kiss," Peter requested.

Duncan leaned over and shook his head. "I can't reach." He puckered up, pushing his head toward the edge of his costume, but Peter was going to have to come get it.

Peter shook his head with sheer frustration and blew Duncan a kiss, “Have a good time, brat.”

"Bye Peter." Duncan blew a kiss back and headed to the party.

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The party was in high gear when Duncan arrived. The first thing he noticed was how all the couples were pared out in their complimentary costumes, and there he stood a lone boring cup of coffee.

Duncan noticed Nick and Marty standing by the bar. He couldn’t make out what they were dressed as. Marty had kept it top secret. Marty’s was leaning up against the bar and looked like he was wearing a very unflattering black dress. Nick was facing the bar; he was wearing black slacks, a black shirt, and what looked like a white mini skirt and white scarf.

Marty noticed Duncan and waved him over to the bar. Duncan arrived at the bar and immediately asked the bartender for a shot of Tequila. He had already quickly downed the shot before Nick asked about Peter. Duncan sighed and ordered another shot. After downing the second shot, he replied, “Couldn’t make it. What the fuck are you two supposed to be anyway?”

Nick and Marty each turned around, so that Nick was now facing Duncan and Marty was facing the bar. Nick stood before him with a very large electrical plug fit snug around his waist. Marty bent forward and shook his butt, which had a big electric socket on it. Duncan started to double over with laughter, but only made a half bend as his costume prevented any bending at the waist.

“Fuck! I hate this damn costume,” Duncan exclaimed.

Duncan’s mood slowly began to improve as the evening wore on; it was greatly aided by continued shots of Tequila.

It was 12:30, when Duncan realized that guests were beginning to say their goodbyes. ‘Fuck,’ Duncan thought, ’12:30 a.m., when did that happen? Peter is going to kill me,’ Duncan waved goodbye to his friends and waddled home as quickly as he could.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Peter heard Duncan struggling to get his keys into the lock, and let out a sigh saying, “Thanks Nick, he’s home…ya…I’ll talk to you later, bye,” and turned the phone off, giving Duncan an exasperated look as his partner made his way through the front door, “Why are you so late, and where the hell have you been?”

Duncan giggled, he wasn’t so drunk any more, but he still had a very nice buzz going, “Well I saw the thing comin' out of the sky, it had the one long horn, one big eye. It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater.”

Peter shook his head, and questioned, “One-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater?”

Duncan continued with his giggles, “Yepp, a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater.”

“That sure would look strange to me,” Peter commented, and again shaking his head, ‘One eye?’ He thought, oh, Duncan could come up with the best excuses. Peter snapped his fingers and motioned for Duncan to come over to the couch.

Duncan waddled over to Peter and before he knew what was happening, he was laying across Peter’s lap. ‘Crap,’ Duncan thought, ‘even injured, he can move fast.’

Peter looked down and realized that Duncan’s butt was protected by his large costume; he let out a sigh, and tried to figure out how he was going spank Duncan through the large coffee cup.

Duncan looked back over his shoulder, and noticed that his costume made it virtually impossible for Peter to spank him, ‘This is the best costume ever he thought!’ Duncan was elated to find himself in this position with his costume providing protection, he smiled, started to hum, and then continued on with the tale of his lateness, “Well he came down to earth and he lit in a tree, I said, ‘Mr. Purple People Eater, don't eat me.’ I heard him say in a voice so gruff, ‘I wouldn't eat you cuz you're so tough,’”

Duncan was just starting in on another verse, “It was a one-eyed, one-horned,” when he quickly felt his costume sliding beneath him, his shorts and boxers being yanked down, and a very firm swat landing on his bottom. Duncan let out a yelp, which echoed off the walls of his costume.

Peter continued to land a furry of swats.

Duncan’s yelps turned to cries, and having to listen to the echoes of his crying seemed to only worsen his embarrassment, fear and pain, all of which only made his cry harder.

After having turned Duncan’s bottom a shade closely resembling purple, Peter turned Duncan over, lifted the large coffee cup over his head and off, and cradled his partner in his arms, “It’s okay Dunc, we’re all done,” he cooed into Duncan’s ear while he gently rubbed Duncan’s back.

Duncan’s cries soon transitioned to long and hiccupped breaths.

Peter continued to rub Duncan’s back, “So, again I’ll ask, why were you late, and where did that story come from?”

Duncan had a simple answer, “Tequila.”
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