"Who was it?" he asked.
"Who was what?"
"The one who fucked you last time."
"It's none of your... AHHH!!!"
Zane gasped and wriggled in pain when Brett's middle finger forced its way into his body.
"Hurts... don't."
Tears sprung to Zane's eyes.
"Go and get something to lubricate your finger first."
Despite his growing chagrin, Brett had enough self-control to stop what he was doing. Huffing in dissatisfaction, he exited the bedroom to find something outside.
Meanwhile, Zane rolled to his side weakly and winced in pain. That idiot, Brett. He must have torn a wound down there. Why was he acting like a virgin who did not know what to do?
Brett came back a while later with a block of butter.
"... You can't be serious," Zane gaped at the neatly wrapped package in Brett's hand in disbelief. Did Brett just run out to buy it from the nearest convenience store?
"I don't have anything else," Brett said helplessly. "I eat this with bread for breakfast."
