South Park belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.


With every touch, he's getting braver.

I stare over my blonde lover's nude body, dipping my head down to suck in his lovely aroma. He smells like coffee, unsurprisingly. His arms are crossed over his chest self consciously, and he's looking at everything except me. A pang of hurt goes through my chest, watching the ashamed look on my lovers face.

I don't know why he's ashamed; my Tweek is so gorgeous. His pale blonde hair encircles his heart shaped head like a halo. His body is thin, scary thin, but it's still finely sculpted.

I lean down and kiss him gently, dragging my lips down his jawline and even further down his neck. I pause to suck on the healthy pale skin, hearing a pleasures moan emitting from my boyfriend. My hands pull his arms away, letting his thin chest show. I lick and nip at his neck fleetingly, hearing puppydog whimpers coming from him.

With every kiss, he's getting braver.

Tweek's hands find my hair and they course through it. I can feel the hesitation in them, timid and stiff. He's even afraid to touch my hair; but it's a step further.

I gently stroke him, watching his straggled cries and his flushed face intensely. His fingers knot in my hair and I grunt in pleasure as he pulls on it. My pressure increases ever so slightly, pace quickening as my thumb ghosts the slit. He stops his moans, instead opting to bite on his lower lip. I know he hates the sound of his own voice, especially the noises he makes. I want to change that.

Blood gushes out when he comes, sticky and coating my fingers. I lick it up tentatively, to show him how much I love him. I kiss him gently, our tongues mingling. He's so held back, I just want to push him to his limits. I want to know what he's like without these barriers.

With every stroke, he's getting braver.

He arches his back and eagerly sucks my fingers, coating them in saliva. I touch him all over, urging him to do the same. His clumsy and timid hands score over my chest, stopping to rub my nipples. He's not rough, he's soft. His fingers are featherlight, dusting over my chest like butterflies.

I prep him, making sure he's ready before I decide to push myself in. As I do so, tears prick his eyes. I kiss them away, watching as he takes a large step forward and claims my lips. I thrust in and out, slowly at first. The only thing I can hear is his stifled moans and the slapping of our skin.

I hit him in the perfectly right spot, and he moans loudly, voice scratching as he arches his back and wraps his legs around my hips. I wrap my hand around his neglected member and stroke it quickly, in time with my thrusts. He doesn't even pause before grabbing my hair and yanking on it. It's my turn to cry out, and I do so loudly, head tilting skywards.

He's so self conscious, afraid and timid. He hates his body, his voice, and his personality. He feels inferior to me. I can't let that happen.

I come first, continuing to rub him until he releases as well, with a earsplitting yelp. I pull out and hold him tight against my chest, kissing him.

He's afraid of himself, he's afraid I'll want someone 'better'. He's afraid I don't love him.

But with every touch, he's getting braver.