Wheatley watched the thin line of Craig's mouth as he typed, staring impassively at the screen before him. He tilted his head out of his cubicle to see his coworker a little better, the light of the monitor obscuring the man's unusual pink eyes, but the tight, drawn line of his mouth was what Wheatley happened to be staring at right then. He decided that Craig would be kind of attractive, if he'd just smile. He'd seen nearly every other expression on his face: disdain, boredom, disappointment, even a time where he'd done something so catastrophically stupid that Craig had raged at him with a red face. He'd had to apologize for that, several times, before Craig would even speak to him again.
Problem was, Wheatley didn't know how to make Craig smile, as he'd never seen it. Sure, people passed by and he was generally pleasant with them, but he never actually smiled. The middle of his mouth seemed to pull up slightly, like it was making a very half-assed attempt at a smile. When asked to smile, his eyes stayed absolutely stony and his mouth pulled into a tighter line; nothing like a real smile. It just made him look uncomfortable.
Hands yanking at the edge, Wheatley pulled himself back up to his desk, leaning his elbow on his mouse pad. What would even make someone like Craig smile? He was pretty quiet and downright secretive when asked about his personal life. He didn't seem keen on getting too close to his coworkers and this caused a lot of rumors to float around him. The one time Wheatley got the bright idea to actually ask if he was involved with their boss, Caroline, was the first time he saw disdain on the man's face. Seemed like there wasn't much stock in rumors.
It was about lunchtime, he realized, standing up to grab his bag and head out for something to eat. This afforded him a view of Craig with his knees pressed to his chest on the chair with a Tupperware of pasta balanced on his kneecaps. He was chewing thoughtfully, still staring at the screen with intent focus.
"Err, hey Craig!" Wheatley suddenly piped up, making the Craig jump and fumble with his container.
Craig's mouth set into a tense, frustrated line, "Yes, Wheatley?" he said, obviously annoyed.
"Oh, uh, sorry about that, I didn't… mean to… you know… uhm," he said, stumbling over his words, just as he did always, "I just wanted to know, just in case or something, would you like to go to lunch with me?"
Craig stared at him for a moment before holding up his container of pasta, "I'm perfectly fine, thank you for the offer," he stated stonily.
"Oh, right… alright, then… then I'll just sit and eat with you, then!" Wheatley said, giving him a wide smile because he was so proud of his quick thinking.
"…Did you bring a lunch?" Craig asked, disbelieving and confused at why in the world he'd want to hang around.
"No, but that's quite alright, I'll just eat a big dinner, it'll be fine, all fine. Don't worry about 'ole Wheatley," he assured him, sinking back down into his office chair.
Craig rolled his eyes, but there was nothing he could do to stop him, so he didn't say a word. Best case scenario, Craig would ignore him the entire time and things go back to normal from this strange and unwelcome change in routine. Of course, that wasn't how things were going to go according to Wheatley, who quickly dragged his office chair into Craig's tiny cubicle. Craig was forced to spin his chair around lest he got a bruise around the stomach from being shoved into his desk. He ground his teeth, but only watched with a mild glare as Wheatley settled himself in by climbing over the wrap around desk. He sat down and beamed at Craig, like he expected him to be proud. Craig didn't say anything and hardened his glare.
"Oh… uhm, so nice weather we're having?" Wheatley offered by way of conversation.
"It's been standing at a 50% chance of precipitation for over a week now with a heat index of 85 or higher for the past month, if you like high humidity, yes, I suppose it would be nice weather," Craig said, sarcasm hanging in the air like icicles.
"OhwellIjustmeant, I guess… uhm… ," he trailed off, thinking of something else to talk about, "Do you watch sports?"
"No," Craig said flatly, moving to grab the top of his pasta container.
"Oh, what… about… music? What kind of music do you like?" he said, grasping at straws.
"Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Tchaikovsky, Bach, Beethoven," Craig listed off systematically.
Wheatley had heard these names back in school, but wasn't familiar with them past that. He said in awkward silence for once, chewing his lip with hopes he'd think up something else to talk about. Craig liked things that Wheatley obviously was not familiar with and he was so… flat about his dislike about anything Wheatley enjoyed…
Craig's Tupperware of past was teetering on the edge of his desk and finally, as Craig was busier putting away the fork he'd brought, it started to fall off. Wheatley made the dive to catch it, only managing to make it flip up and land right in Craig's lap. Craig's face was that of abject horror, staring straight ahead, frozen.
"O-oops, sorry about that!" Wheatley sputtered, "I-I can clean that up, you know, I'll just… get you some napkins, I'm really sorry, mate."
"GET. OUT. OF. MY. SIGHT," Craig seethed, eyes full of rage finally setting on one timid looking Wheatley.
Mission fail, he thought, quickly pulling his chair out of Craig's way. Maybe he still had a chance to go find a vending machine for lunch…
Due to a miraculously horrendous workload, Wheatley was forced to stay later at the behest of Caroline, who seemed to have it out for him. What did he ever do to that hard-ass witch? Nothing, that's what. Mostly, the tall man was feeling bad about trying and utterly failing at getting to know his co-worker and then completely ruining any chances of trying again. He was heading back to his desk from a very late meeting, glancing at his watch. It was already 9:30. He stared at his watch in disbelief, it had gotten extremely late.
A crack of thunder made him jump, making him look out the window in time to see rain smattering against the window in sheets.
"Oh just lovely," he muttered, grabbing his coat out of his cubicle.
Out in the empty parking lot, there was a total of… two cars? Wheatley rushed to his ridiculously old beater car with his arm thrown over his head. He glanced at the other car, parked not too far from his. It was a little white hybrid with a figure crouched near the driver's side door, huddled up in a coat. Wheatley jogged up to the car, unsure of who it was, but he figured he's be a mate and try to help.
"Car troubles, buddy?" he shouted to the figure.
The figure looked up, flashing tired and frustrated looking pink eyes up at Wheatley, "Craig, pal! What're you doing out here? You're going to catch a cold! That's what people catch in the rain, right? Colds?"
Craig slowly stood up, looking sore from sitting in one position for so long, "I locked my keys in my car on accident…"
"I'll take you home, mate, don't worry about it!" Wheatley shouted once he leaned in close enough to hear Craig's quiet voice.
"I locked my apartment keys in there, too," he said, gaze steeling for Wheatley's stupidity.
"Oh, but why didn't you come back in and use a phone or something? Call a tow, a friend?"
"The front door was locked after I left it, I was leaving just now," Craig stated, too cold to bother glaring.
Wheatley shifted from one foot to the other, getting soaked while thinking about what he could do for the poor chap, "Err, well if you don't really care, you can crash at my place. It's Friday so I can take you back here in the morning… I mean, if you want, it's not a big deal. If you're happy out here, soaking in the rain. I dunno, maybe you like rain!"
"Yes," Craig hissed with a frown, "I do mind, but I don't have a choice. Please."
With that, Wheatley ushered a soaking wet Craig into his beat-up car and spent an awkward trip to his place, filling the silence with anything he could think of. Craig didn't say a word the entire time while Wheatley was making a valiant effort to have a conversation with the radio. The tall man could almost see it in Craig's eyes: Fact: Radios do not talk back unless one is under serious mental duress. Wheatley smiled to himself, he thought of that all on his own!
They ran into the small apartment complex where Wheatley fumbled with the keys for several moments before opening the door. He didn't have much, due to some seriously bad investment decisions, so he lived in a small studio apartment with a futon and a very small TV serving as his limited furniture.
"Ta-dah! Home sweet home, please, make yourself comfortable in la casa de Wheatley," he said proudly, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie.
Craig silently removed his shoes and stood in Wheatley's apartment with a hopeless look in his eye. Wheatley noticed; it wasn't hard to see that he was definitely less than thrilled to be there at this point. Wheatley hurried to get his dirty clothes hamper, offering it to Craig.
"Let's getcha out of those wet clothes, yeah? You… can… borrow some of mine?" he offered, knowing he was much, much taller than his pink-eyed coworker.
Craig eyed Wheatley suspiciously, insolently almost. He peeled off his soaked jacket when Wheatley put the hamper down to scamper off and find something for poor Craig to wear. Craig's hands were shaking he was so cold; he had a little bit of a problem unbuttoning his dress shirt and pulling off his tie. Finally, it and his undershirt went into the pile while his ice-like hands tried to unloop his belt. Wheatley reappeared from digging through his drawers with a pair of drawstring sleep pants and about the smallest sweatshirt he owned.
"T-turn around," Craig said when Wheatley eagerly offered them to him.
"Hu-what? Why?"
"Just do it!"
Craig snatched the clothes from him, pushing on his arm so he'd turn around. Wheatley crossed his arms and idly hummed a tune while he waited for Craig to take his time with his little bit of privacy. With the last heavy sound of wet clothes hitting the plastic hamper, Wheatley turned around and handed Craig a towel. The sweatshirt still fell about mid-thigh on Craig and the drawstring pants stayed up, but they were obviously too big and too long. Craig shifted awkwardly under Wheatley's gaze.
"Sit down, I'll find a blanket, you must be chilled to the bone! Want a cuppa or y'know, something?" he babbled, moving around his apartment a bit stiffly, like he wasn't used to company.
Without saying anything, Craig sat on the very corner of the futon, knees up against his chest while he swiftly dried his hair. He rolled up the pant legs of the sleep pants and stared around Wheatley's tiny apartment while he warmed up a hotplate and babbled on about the types of tea he had. It wasn't much and it was frankly kind of messy, with clothes strewn about the wood floor, explaining the empty hamper. Craig shivered in the corner of the futon; he was freezing and plainly upset. He rarely made such mistakes and of all the times he had to, he had to rely on a bumbling idiot who couldn't even get his front door open without assistance. Wheatley came back, still talking about chamomile or something and pulled a blanket hanging off of the back of the futon and cautiously offered it to Craig, who didn't even look up. Wheatley awkwardly set the blanket down next to him.
"I'll go throw your clothes in the wash, I mean, I kinda probably ruined your trousers, but I can make up for it," Wheatley said, trying to awkwardly fill the silence, "But uh… don't worry, I'll be right back!"
Once the door shut, Craig wrapped himself up in the blanket with a shiver. He didn't want help, he didn't want the assistance or the kindness from Wheatley, but he didn't have a choice and it was seriously wearing on him. The warmth of the blanket made his eyes droop, but it wasn't enough to let him fall asleep. It was too cold and he wasn't producing enough heat with his skinny body. He was so tired, though; he'd been sitting out there for a half an hour before it started raining and then fifteen minutes after it started. He frowned at the wet towel sitting next to him and tossed it on the floor, not figuring the 'master of the house' wouldn't mind much.
Craig's eyelids started to close again when the door burst open again, stirring him from dozing. Wheatley was humming something silly and cheerful as he set the hamper down next to the door and checked the hotplate.
"Oh… damn thing's broken, tried to figure it out myself, but… just busted," he said hopelessly fretting over the broken hotplate, "Guess a bit of tape and string won't do it, unfortunately!"
Craig could hear his voice getting louder even after he shut his eyes to block the lanky man out, "Sorry about the tea and all, I don't think I can… Oh, you're asleep, sorry about that, not that it matters much because… you're… asleep. Right."
Craig's eyebrows furrowed as he continued to talk even while he was allegedly asleep. He opened his eyes to peer over his gold-rimmed glasses at Wheatley who blinked at him owlishly. If he weren't so cold, he'd happily tell the man off, but he was nearly frozen still. Craig shivered very visibly and Wheatley shifted awkwardly. This wasn't going to be pleasant, but there wasn't an alternative.
"Come here," he managed to command through the shiver.
"What? I was—I thought you were asleep, but you just…," Wheatley shut up when Craig's eyes settled into a glare.
Wheatley sat on the other side of the futon and Craig immediately began to arrange him according to what he wanted. Hands on Wheatley's shoulders turned his back against the cushioned arm and a tug on his knee pulled it up on the futon. Craig pulled the blanket over and laid his head on Wheatley's chest, stiffly finding somewhere comfortable to lie against his bony body.
"What are you-"
"I am freezing to death and you will shut up, lest I elbow you where it hurts," Craig mumbled into Wheatley's shirt.
After a bit of awkward shuffling between the two of them, they managed to get more comfortable; Wheatley was lying across the futon on his back, still in his work clothes with Craig's still damp head lying on his chest. Wheatley was stiff as a board and twice as bony, but he… kind of smelled like something Craig thought he should know and it was oddly comforting. He was exhausted and eventually fell asleep to the sounds of Wheatley's chest rising and falling. Wheatley, however, wasn't so lucky. He was trying his best not to fidget, but he was seriously tense. Craig was gently breathing in his sleep, but Wheatley was taking shuddering breaths, trying not to wake the other man.
This setup was so… awkwardly uncomfortable! Wheatley had only intended on helping his coworker out of the rain in hopes they would eventually be… well, he assumed friends, but his mind was definitely wandering places he did not think they were supposed to go about two men. He shut his eyes and tried to think about all sorts of other things, but a traitorous part of his body wasn't allowing him to think about anything else other than the short, blond main laying across his lap with his head leaning against his sternum. Craig's hips fit very comfortably in between Wheatley's legs and his hair was starting to dry, curling across his cheek. He looked peaceful right now, instead of angry or condescending… Well, Wheatley was right about him looking more attractive if he smiled, but he was only halfway there.
Very carefully, Wheatley shifted his arms to wrap around the smaller man's waist, causing Craig to shift against him. Oh no… He took a long deep breath, again trying to focus on things like… augh, the way Craig's stomach slid across his groin? This wasn't going anywhere, he realized, gazing down at the sleeping figure. Craig shifted again, higher. Oh bugger, if he weren't asleep, Wheatley would assume he was doing this on purpose.
"Man alive, sexual frustration through the roof…!" he mumbled in a small, strangled voice.
With a heavy swallow, he gently passed his hands underneath the blanket, moving his hands down Craig's sides very tentatively; his hands almost shaking. Very, very carefully, he hooked his fingers underneath the hem of the too long sweater that he had let Craig borrow, pulling up very delicately. His fingertips brushed Craig's surprisingly soft skin for a man, drawing a slight change in breathing from his accidental bedmate. He didn't stir enough to wake, not that Wheatley noticed. His hands were starting to drift under the drawstring pants, sliding with shaking palms across Craig's bare hips and backside. Wheatley remembered throwing in a pair of dark pink boxers in the wash, ones that Craig would have looked very good in, but the fact that Wheatley's hands were completely uninhibited while roaming his skin was enough to make sure he was standing at full attention instead of awkward half-mast.
Goosebumps were springing up all over Craig's skin and Wheatley was all too glad to try to smooth them out, running his much warmer palms across Craig's skin. Wheatley stiffened at the small noise that came from his blond companion, but he evidently didn't wake. The British man relaxed just slightly and shifted, making his very uncomfortably hard erection rub against Craig's stomach through his trousers.
"S'kinda soft, feels…," he shifted again, pressing a little harder…
Craig's eyes fluttered opened when he felt something stiff poking him in the stomach. Wheatley shifted again, more actually grinding against Craig's stomach, head tilted back slightly. His lips were parted in a silent moan of pleasure the second time. Craig's eyebrows shot up to his forehead and he sat up on the futon in a flash.
"WHAT do you think you are doing?" he demanded, face completely flushed with embarrassment.
The taller man nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes as wide as saucers; his chin dropped back down to his chest. There was a tense moment of silence where they both just stared with shock. Wheatley's hands were still pressing against Craig's bare backside, unconsciously pressing him down against his stubbornly still-hard cock. The way Craig had sat up had them hip to hip with the blond's groin grinding right up against Wheatley's just the same. Being asleep meant that there was nothing stopping Craig from being just as hard; the pressure there made him swallow an embarrassing breathy noise.
"I was… uh, you know, funny story actually, I just… er, fell asleep, yes I feel asleep, I didn't mean anything by it, how strange, must be sleep… groping…? NO, not groping, I meant... meant… sleep cuddling? Oh god, that sounds worse, uh…," Wheatley spouted rapid-fire, attempting to come up with an excuse but failing absolutely miserably.
Craig almost lost his balance, perched the way he was, he pitched forward and had to plant a hand on Wheatley's shoulder to keep from falling right on him. This slid him just a touch further down; they both gasped simultaneously, Wheatley pressed him back against him without thinking. The rubbing had Craig turning completely scarlet and trying to bite back a very, very small moan. The blue-eyed man in front of him was just gaping at him, wide-eyed. Craig's eyebrows knitted together and he frowned deeply.
"I can't believe I'm thinking of doing this…," he muttered to himself, making the other man's jaw simply drop.
"Th-Thinking of doing what now, love?" Wheatley stammered while Craig extricated himself from his lap, "I swear I didn't mean anything by it, just a simple mistake. Hahah, right? Mistake?"
The blond didn't answer, moving over to Wheatley's makeshift closet and yanked out something familiar and blue; a tie. As dense as he was, the British man didn't make a move in the slightest while Craig sat himself right back down on his lap. He sure did gape while the pink-eyed man leaned over him, grasping his wrists and yanking them above his head. It took him a long moment to find his tongue again; the only coherent thing out of his mouth was nervous shuddering gasping.
"Th-This isn't… like a citizen's arrest, is it? I'm really terribly sorry about this, I-I hardly think involving the police is necessary, can't we just, y'know, let bygones be bygones and get on with—"
"Shut. Up," Craig snapped with a pointed glare, looping the fabric around the man's wrists and securing a tight knot around the arm of the futon.
All Wheatley could do was swallow thickly and shift downward so the strain on his shoulders wasn't so bad. Craig was sliding downward, too; he perched himself right on the other man's knees and began to pull at the fastenings on his pants, eyebrows knitted together in angered concentration. He was struggling to keep quiet while Craig's thin fingers pried open the buttons on his shirt and yanked the tie he'd been wearing right out of his collar. The entire time Craig was working on undressing him, his mouth was working; it was more effort just to keep words from flying out while one annoyed looking blond was on top of him, yanking his shirt apart and pulling down his trousers. Cool, thin fingers pressed against the front of his briefs and that was all he could take.
"Oooh, oh what… what are you doing there?" he gasped, earning a sardonic stare from the other man while he hooked his fingers underneath the elastic, "Oh… OH, c-couldn't you, ah, untie me if… if we're going to do… that? N-Not that I mind, love, I'm ecstatic really, but I thought I could, y'know participahhh—Oh, ow, okay shutting up, sorry sorry."
A firm squeeze on his cockhead got the babbling man to quiet down considerably, though not entirely. Assured that the tall man was quiet as he could've been, Craig continued to work him out of his clothes; Wheatley mumbled quietly to himself, thankfully soft enough that Craig couldn't understand and talk himself out of this. Soon, Wheatley was completely undressed, aside from his wrinkled button-down shirt that hung around his shoulders. The man's bright blue eyes were staring up at Craig nervously, naked, and very hard, he could only hope he knew where this was going. Of course, Craig couldn't just be predictable for the poor shaking man and stood up from his handiwork, moving through the studio gathering some things that Wheatley couldn't see from his vantage point.
"I'm going to teach you a lesson about hospitality to your cold company," Craig adopted a lecturing tone from across the flat, "How you should properly act when they are freezing."
"I-I dunno what to say about that, Craig, I'm doing my best 'n all, but I just don't kno—" Wheatley began to defend himself, but was cut off by Craig's return with an icy glare.
"First lesson is to give them the proper clothing when they have none," Craig began with this mock lesson, picking up the tie he'd yanked from Wheatley's collar and tying a quick knot in the center, "For example: I think you need something to cover that mouth."
"Mouth? But-!"
The knotted tie was placed firmly between the other man's teeth, cutting off his sentence quite nicely if one asked Craig. Wheatley continued to protest, but his noises were muffled. Craig loomed over him with a smirk on his face, pleased with the setup now that he was mostly silent.
"Now, the next lesson is to keep a clean living space and since I've already cleared you of any unnecessary clothing…," Craig said, tapping his chin while settling between Wheatley's splayed legs, "The next lesson would be to offer your guests food and drink, appropriately. Since you don't seem to have any of that… I'll simply have to demonstrate exactly why."
Craig's thin fingers pulled Wheatley's length away from his body and squeezed at the base, making the taller man shift a little uncomfortably at the tight grip. Pink eyes flicked up to his face and Craig's mouth closed over the cockhead and he sucked suddenly and very, very hard.
"Hhnngghmnngh!" Wheatley cried out, bucking up into Craig's mouth, regardless of the obvious, uncomfortable lack of moisture there. His tongue moved around the edge of the corona, leaving the other man squirming in pleasured discomfort.
The discomfort was gone in an instant, though Wheatley couldn't honestly say he wanted it to leave, "Unpleasant, correct?" Craig asked primly, raising his eyebrows at the bound man beneath him.
Wheatley hesitantly nodded his head, realizing that's what Craig wanted to hear even if it was kind of a tossup between 'slightly uncomfortable' and 'oh god he has his mouth on my… my…' It was hard to even fathom what was going on without the ability to verbalize it in poor empty-headed Wheatley's mind. At the pace he was going, he was simply desperately trying to please Craig and whatever lesson it was he was trying to teach in hopes this was going to have a good ending.
"The most important lesson you can learn from this is that someone who is standing in your apartment freezing is in need of warmth of some kind," Craig continued, sliding off of Wheatley's lap to slide the too-big sleep pants off of his hips, cocking them slightly to help them fall off his skinny frame. Wheatley's blue eyes were watching Craig's bare legs closely, distractedly chewing on the gag between his teeth while Craig toyed with the hem of the sweater that hung to nearly mid-thigh, only to leave it on after a second thought. The blond was back on top of him, straddling his waist with this horrible, knowing smirk on his face. One Wheatley had never seen before, but given how much worse it made the painful throbbing in his groin, he'd remember it.
"The best way to ensure your company is the warmest they can be, is to share body warmth," Craig murmured, mouth suddenly very close to Wheatley's face, leaning over his chest in an intimidating manner, "I'll show you a proper example."
One of the articles Craig had gathered before was retrieved off of the floor and held up for Wheatley to examine. It was a bottle of hand lotion, the best thing that Craig could find for the task at hand. The lotion pooled in Craig's hand and he idly worked it between his thumb and first two fingers, observing Wheatley's face while his eyes darted around nervously, trying to divine what Craig intended. The smaller man leaned forward, mouth purposefully pressing against the shell of the hapless host's ear, making him shudder in time with the soft breathing against it.
Wheatley could see Craig's coated hand moving between them and he almost tensed, expecting to feel something cold and slick against him in a place he wasn't mentally prepared to explore just yet. Instead, he nearly jumped when Craig moaned softly against his ear; the preparation Wheatley had expected for himself was apparently meant for the small blond on top of him. Just as he managed to relax, Craig must have begun to work his fingers into himself; Wheatley tensed right back up with the small whimper coming from his company.
"I'm… I'm going to show you… ah, and if you are a g-good student, perhaps we can… review," Craig whispered, voice tense and aroused which made Wheatley suck in a harsh breath in anticipation.
Suddenly there was a grip around his cock, making him stiffen again, but Craig simply positioned him and shifted his hips backwards, slowly sinking himself along his length. The gag in the Brit's mouth was bitten with a heavy, surprised moan that steadily got louder the further Craig seated himself. The smaller man patiently and steadily worked his way down until he was again sitting on Wheatley's hips. His mouth was open and Wheatley's eyes were fixed on his lips and tongue, all through the unabashed, though muffled noises he was making. Oh god, that felt tremendous; tight and hot around his length in a way he could never have imagined.
Control was something he was quickly losing, which Craig noted was exactly why tying him down was a good idea. The blond's eyebrows were drawn together, attempting to accustom himself to the feeling of being stretched and filled before Wheatley got it in his head to try to get more of the pleasure they were about to share. Craig's hands pressed on Wheatley's stomach much harder than he realized, preemptively trying to keep his hips still to prevent him from bucking or moving in a way he was not ready to anticipate.
Muffled, aroused noises coming from behind the tie-gag were suddenly distracting; Craig yanked down the knot from between Wheatley's teeth and crushed his mouth against his 'student's'. Nearly simultaneously, they both ground against each other, mouths muting the low groan from both of their throats. Craig pulled away, hips rocking much faster than he originally intended; his hands steadied themselves against Wheatley's chest, nails digging into his skin. The man beneath him was surprisingly quiet, back curving upward to meet Craig's near-frantic rocking. His mouth hung open and his eyes were glazed over.
Craig let his own head tilt back, enjoying the sensation of being filled and dictating his own pace, picking the right places to hit inside of him just right. Wheatley suddenly tugged at his bonds, gripping the arm of the chair and bucking up to speed it up with an almost frustrated moan. Out of reflex, Craig reached out and undid the knot around his hands, but soon regretted it. With a surge of strength neither was aware he had, Wheatley sat up and nearly knocked Craig on his back, managing to catch him before he fell, cradling him in his long, skinny arms, his sweater gathered at Craig's waist. The taller man pulled Craig down on his cock harder, rutting against him shamelessly.
"Oh god," they both moaned, but Wheatley continued talking, "Oh… oh I had no idea this felt so good, oh good god."
This time, Craig couldn't care less that Wheatley was babbling like an idiot. The sudden display of dominance turned him on more than it should've and his hands were already around his own arousal, languidly giving it attention to accompany the delicious grinding against his prostate. Wheatley suddenly gasped, breathing getting very shallow, very quickly.
"Oooh no… o-oh no, love, I think… Nonono, ohhh…," Wheatley was half protesting, half moaning; Craig's eyes snapped open and realized just what was happening.
He tilted his hips up, squeezing Wheatley's length inside of him; the man was about to come, no real surprises there. Sure enough, he pitched forward, burying his face in the top of Craig's hair with a strangled sound. Craig shifted with some discomfort at the sudden feeling of warmth, but what really surprised him was Wheatley nearly immediately pulling away with a guilty, pleading look.
"Oh I've gone and buggered things up, haven't I—No pun intended, of course, none at all," he stammered, stiffly pulling out of Craig in the most gentle way he could manage, "You… you didn't even finish up, did you. I'm… kind of really bad at this, aren't I?"
Craig almost sighed and brushed him off, but his wrists were caught in Wheatley's big hands and pried away from his length. Stunned into silence, Craig didn't fight, wondering just what in the world the other man was planning to do. Shyly, unsure, Wheatley pressed his mouth against Craig's stomach, bravely trailing down toward his groin, kissing his pelvis and thighs to accustom himself with new anatomy. The fluttery, nervous attention didn't take long to make Craig shift impatiently, suddenly flushed with the amount of attention he was getting.
"Wh… what are you doing?" he murmured, losing all trace of the stern tone he intended using.
All the courage Wheatley screwed up to let his tongue dart out and lick the underside of Craig's length was halted mid-action; he pulled back wide-eyed and stiff, afraid he'd done something wrong. The blond arched up to his mouth with a surprised pant, wringing his hands free of Wheatley's grasp to pull on his shoulders, back to what he was doing.
"G-Go on! Don't stop, please," he cried, attempting to control his voice half through the plea.
The Brit gaped for a moment, but drug his tongue up the same way, fully laving across his cock from root to tip with a shuddering inhale from his company. Craig was already sensitive and now impatient, but thankfully this heartened Wheatley and he attached his mouth to the shaft and sucked with even more positive results. He tried it again and again until he had Craig squirming and writhing beneath him in a triumphant, incredibly pleasing way. With the last of his dizzy bravery, he pressed his mouth over Craig's cockhead, attempting to take him in the mouth, inexperienced, but the slide of his tongue against sensitive flesh was all that was necessary.
"Oh… yes," Craig gasped, fingers digging into the man's sandy hair, encouraging him to take in more with a gentle push.
Wheatley did his best and was almost giddy with the realization that he was getting Craig off. His wide eyes kept flicking up to his bedmate, almost forgetting what he was doing in the midst of memorizing these new expressions. Pleasure, ecstasy, frantic impatience; Wheatley suddenly remembered to suck and was rewarded with a new one: Orgasm. Craig's chest rose and his mouth dropped open in a sharp, sudden moan. It was mesmerizing enough to make Wheatley forget he was about to get a mouthful of come. Craig rocked into his mouth for a moment, though, and Wheatley didn't dare move away until he relaxed into the futon, breathless. He pulled away suddenly with a faint choking sound.
"C-Could've done with a warning about that," he said with a small gag, "That is awful."
Craig blinked at him several times before he realized what he meant and he laughed, actually laughed. Wheatley broke out into a million dollar grin and momentarily forgot about the bitter, nasty taste in his mouth. He quickly stood up and gathered up his clothes, bashfully offering the sleep pants Craig had been wearing earlier. The blond took them, but didn't dress, content to just lie on the futon and catch his breath.
"I… I suppose I should go fetch us both some water then, hm? Lesson learned and all," Wheatley offered with a nervous kind of chuckle.
There was a moment of silence while Wheatley hurriedly dressed himself and yanked his shoes on. He turned around to see Craig studying him with something less than an analytical look. Of course one pink glance he couldn't interpret made Wheatley go from a clumsy middle-aged man to something akin to a naughty school boy with a guilty conscience.
"D-Did I manage to make a mistake again?" he asked, cracking a grin, but genuinely wanting to know.
"No."
That answer was about as flat as one could get. It made Wheatley nervous, but simultaneously soothed some fears.
"I'll… I'll be right back then," he sputtered and left Craig lying on his futon.
He came back less than half an hour later juggling two individual bottles of water and a larger, gallon sized jug. The tall man managed to quietly get through the door and see Craig curled up with the blanket. Must be asleep, which meant he had to be quiet putting these bottles away. The resulting crash on his counter wasn't too bad and it didn't look like his sleeping company was disturbed. He crept nearer to the cushion to see if this was actually the case. Very, very, very carefully, Wheatley peeled back the blanket—Well that was quite an angelic sight to see, Craig nestled up and resting peacefully. It would be a shame to wake him, but Craig's hand shot out and grabbed Wheatley's skinny wrist.
"We're not forgetting our lessons are we," he said, mumbling tiredly.
"'Course not," Wheatley breathed, finally letting his shoulders come down from his ears.
The position Craig initially put them in was restored, but they were both more relaxed and comfortable this time. Wheatley's back was against the futon and Craig was sleeping on top of him, much warmer and less restless than the first time. Neither one of them had a problem going to sleep after that.
Wheatley was shaken awake the next morning, two bright pink eyes staring at him expectantly, "Wake up, Wheatley, it's time to get moving," Craig said, surprisingly gently.
"Wha…? Why, are we la—Oh my god, are we late?" the other man sat up straight on the futon, about to rush to get ready for work before Craig's small hands pushed him back down on the furniture.
"No, we're going to clean your apartment—Well I will, as thanks for your… er, hospitality last night, but I would like some company, regardless," Craig stood and rolled up the sleeves on the big sweater he was loaned.
Wheatley sat up and stared, a cup of coffee was pressed into his hands and he just stared at it in wonder. He'd never been able to figure out how to use that coffee machine he'd gotten as a Christmas gift one year, Craig must've found it easy. The blond was already moving about the room, picking up loose clothing and tossing out bits of trash.
"I did have a few questions, if that's alright?" Craig said off-hand, pulling a sorry-looking broom from the kitchen area.
A sip from the coffee burned his tongue before he could answer, "Ah!—I mean, yes, go right ahead, I don't mind."
"How long have you been living alone?"
"Since I was twenty-two, out of uni, twelve-odd years, I'd guess."
Craig hummed and began to sweep despite the almost useless broom, "Did you always live in a studio apartment?"
"Er… uh, no, I haven't. I had a nice place once, but a few bad decisions and whoops, there go all the options," Wheatley shrugged with an ashamed little chuckle.
Another hum, "Date much?"
"Haha, nooo, that was pretty much out the window by the time I got into sophomore year, love," he decided to embrace the self-deprecating line of humor Craig was leading him on.
The dustbin was emptied out into the trash Craig had just taken out before Wheatley woke up, "Sleep around?"
That got a humiliated little reddening of the cheeks, "Well, a little, I suppose. Nothing too significant, flings they called them. Had a couple of sweethearts, but they… didn't stick around for long, sorry to say."
Craig hummed yet again and started to straighten out the kitchen, busying himself with the dishes for a long while. It wasn't until Wheatley decided to drink his neglected coffee that Craig turned back to him.
"I've decided something," the blond announced, boldly taking the coffee cup from Wheatley's hands and straddling his lap, "I'm going to assist you in becoming a worthwhile boyfriend, someone who is going to be worthy of and treat a significant other right."
Wheatley blinked at him, confused, "That's really thoughtful of you, Craig, but I don't really have a significant other—"
"You do now," was the interruption.
All he could do was gape at that, not that he had an issue with it, but that was quite a strange way to start a relationship. Craig leaned forward and pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to Wheatley's cheekbone and pulled away.
"The tow company is going to meet us at my car at three p.m.," he said, linking his hands together and stretching them up high, "Until then, I think some advance reward for your cooperation might be in order?"
Before Wheatley could ask what that meant, Craig knelt on the floor and guided his knees apart, his pink tongue tracing across his bottom lip. One thought crossed his mind while Craig took his time undoing the taller man's pants: he didn't mind cooperating at all.