Love and Relative Safety in Sex
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"Furthermore, SCP-447-2 can be refined (see Appendix 447-C: Distillation Process) into a useful lubricant approved for use at all SCP Foundation installations, so long as said lubricant is never used to lubricate dead bodies."

The junior researcher set the copy of the document down on the desk with a sigh. "…Oh hell."

"Come on."

"Dude, I'm not paid enough. And, notably, my ass isn't an 'SCP Foundation installation', it's just my ass. It's always been there, Foundation or no Foundation."

"Well it's about to be one. Look, I thought you and I had a thing going for a little while there. Hell, I kinda thought we were still-"

"You and I do have a thing going, Alto, but that's between you and I, not you and I and a pile of sludge."

"Man, I already told the assistant research director that we greenlit this testing-"

"Well, what are you gonna do to convince me?"

"…I'll cook us waffles in the morning."

"That's it? Wait, not- not those waffles, right?"

"Oh, no, the normal ones."

The researcher sighed and stood up out of his chair. "Alright. Deal."

Alto Clef was a man of his word, to say the least. When he told a project director he'd get something done, he got it done. But when the Site's research heads were pressing for more extensive 447-2 testing, he got a little uneasy. There was only so much people could come up with after a few years of experimentation, after all.

But he was just stressed. It'd all be fine. His flirtatious, wonderful, kind, awkwardly submissive, probably-too-low-of-a-clearance-level boyfriend was waiting for him in the employee quarters. He just had to get that sample and they'd be able to proceed with their plans of last night.

"Where's that sample?" Clef asked no one in particular, spinning around in his chair.

"Almost here, sir. We had a minor computer error, and couldn't take it out of the inventory until it was repaired."

"A computer error? Of what sort?"

"An LMAPO error. Logistical Mapping and Procedural Officiator, the research lab's AI. You know the one."

"Ah yes, good ol' LMAPO."


"Alright, well once you all sort out that LMAPO situation, I'm gonna need to get that sample and turn in for the night."

A few of the researchers hunched over low-priority tasks in the corner shot confused and concerned glances at each other, but knew better than to question anything.

"Sure. I'll go down the hall and get it once LMAPO's self-repair is complete."


Junior Researcher Jaime Abraham sat on the edge of Clef's bed. He never felt particularly welcome here, between the multiple loaded shotguns in three of the four corners and the vaguely disconcerting scent of stale maple syrup. He twitched his legs. "Nghh, this is gonna be weird-"

"Oh my fuck, Abraham, it's just lube. I bet this is better than that KY shit we've been using."

"Are you ever gonna call me by my first name?"

Clef put the vial on the nightstand and turned most of the lights off, leaving the room in only the green glow of the emergency light. What a situationally relevant color, he thought. Really set the mood. "Of course not. That's against protocol," he explained, stumbling out of his pants.


"I'm just messing with you. It's actually because I thought Abraham was your first name up until like three weeks ago, so I still get stuck with it." He took a condom out of the bedside table's drawer.

"What? Why?"

"Because they wanted it for the test procedures."

"No, my name! We've been dating for like eight months!"

"It was a simple mistake!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means we don't want my jizz interfering with the process. This is basic research standard, you know."

"No, not that, the other thing!"

"Man, don't worry about it. Let's just move on. You hard yet?"

"Why do I need to be hard?"

"F- I don't fuckin' know! Because that's fucking normal? What's gotten into you, Abraham?"

Abraham grimaced and rolled over onto his stomach. "Don't you use that head researcher voice at me, it makes it weird-"

"It's always gonna be weird, unless you're on one of my teams."

"That would be really weird. Please don't ever make me work under you."

"Uh, phrasing."

"In a non-sexual way."

"…This is sexual. We're about to have sex."

"Christ alive, you know what I mean." He closed his eyes and started laughing. "Just fucking start already."

"Mmm-hmm." Clef rolled the condom onto his massive eight-inch1 cock and proceeded to lubricate himself with the 447-2 before grabbing the younger man's ass in preparation.

"I want a shower already."

"Just stop thinking of it as anomalous slime and think of it as- I don't know, something relaxing, like- like-"

"Like what?!"

"I don't know, fucking coconut-scented tanning lotion or some shit! Some of that fancy shit you like to slather all over yourself!"

Abraham grunted. "Can you slow the fuck down back there?"

Clef looked down in the dim lighting. He had slid in easily. He'd have to make a note of that. "Have I ever told you about the time I fucked someone from an alternate reality?"

"Which of the hundreds of GOC missions did this one happen on?"

"No no, this was just last year."

"Can you tell me about it at a time when you're not shoving your dick in my ass? Better yet, can we not make any casual conversation while we're-"

"Sure, sure. My bad. But dear God, this is slippery."

"You log it; I'm tired."

"I know, I know." Clef got up and put his pants back on, thudding down at the computer. "I'm gonna have to add this to the experiment log, you do realize."

"Please don't name me in it."

"Well I don't wanna name myself either! I'm the fucking project head!"

"Okay, fine, just blame it all on me then-"

"I told the other researchers it'd be you doing it-"

"Do you have a problem with the 'other researchers' knowing I'm the bottom or something? Why can't we tell them it was your dick?"

"No, just- I have my methods, dammit! They won't notice! Now, what do you have to say about the test?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking." Abraham put his head in his hands. "Ugh, just- just say 'I could market this as that kind of lubricant, but I don't think a warning label is enough to ensure that some necrophiliac doesn't use it on a dead body.' Does that sound comprehensive enough?"

"Of course. All for the sake of research, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and enter it in the database, I guess."

"What are you worried about?"

"I'm just wondering if that was safe. I mean, I know it was, but that felt kind of-"

Clef smiled. "But… of course it's Safe. I wrote the Object Class myself."

"…God fucking damn it."

Date: ██/██/████

Test Subject: One (1) Trojan condom

Procedure: Dr. A██████ placed the condom on his [DATA EXPUNGED] and applied SCP-447-2 onto it. He then tested the SCP-447-2-covered condom by [DATA EXPUNGED]

Results: [DATA EXPUNGED]. Dr. A██████ reports that the procedure "went really well."

Notes: "I could market this as that kind of lubricant, but I don't think a warning label is enough to ensure that some necrophiliac doesn't use it on a dead body."—Dr. A██████

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