That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.

—Edgar Allan Poe

This chapter is pretty special, you guys. I think you're going to like it a lot. It's dedicated to 5minutes-to-midnight because this wonderful human being drew a fan art for this story! Specifically for Tweek :P I want everyone to go look at it because it's just the best thing that I've ever seen. You can either view it on their tumblr (come-to-me-peon . tumblr . com) or mine (thestrangeattractionsyndrome . tumblr . com).

Tweek appeared in my doorway wearing the towel, now damp, around his waist. It was tied off at his side causing the cloth to sag down his hip, pronouncing the protrusion of the bone. He'd ruffled his hair, giving it a quick once-over with the towel so it wouldn't drip droplets onto his shoulders. His darkened locks were messy, less controlled than they'd been under the water.

Nervously, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What—uh. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to sit where you usually sit." He asked me if I meant in the towel. "Yeah, in the towel. You're not allowed to put clothes on yet."

"You're not—" he spun his hand around to get the words out "—you know, going to draw me nude. Are you?"

It wasn't easy suppressing my grin. "No. But I can guarantee you at some point I will." His brows rose and he blinked a few times, tentatively stepping further into my room and shutting the door. He looked terrified, nauseous.

He might've tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace. "W-We'll see about that."

When he sat down, I gave him some time to situate himself and the towel before telling him about my semi-spontaneous idea.

"So I have this thing about emotions. I like them—a lot. On other people. They're not really my thing." Tweek gave me a look like no shit. "And I've kind of been cataloguing yours." At this, he cocked his head slightly to the side, a very birdlike gesture, eyes alight with curiosity. "There's one that I'd really like to draw so I want you to feel it. Right now."

"Okay." He nodded his head because this he could understand. This wasn't something out of his comfort zone. Not yet.

My plan wasn't finished, though. Poor kid had no idea what he'd just agreed to. "Aren't you wondering what emotion I'm talking about?"

His gaze was suspicious as it assessed me. "You're not going to beat me up and make me cry are you?"

"Not even close." I grinned cheekily and that's when fear began to prod at him. "Guess again."

"Are you..." he pondered, "going to throw me into a dumpster and make me face my biggest fear?"

I shook my head. "You're really fucking cold right now."

"You're going to tell me that you figured out what's wrong with me and cure all of my issues?" I just looked at him. "You're going to knock me out and draw me sleeping?"

"Of course not. I can draw you sleeping whenever I want."

"I don't know then, dude!" He gave up. "Just tell me."

"What's it called when you're turned on?" I wanted to hear him say the word.

He gawked at me, puzzled and then baffled and then comprehending.

"Oh," was the only thing he said for a moment. His reaction was making me feel a mixture of excitement and mischievousness. This was going to be fun. "A—" I nodded my head, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees.

Keep going.

Tweek debated the word before pronouncing it slowly. "A... Arousal?"

His lips moved to form another question, but he never got that far. He let it go prematurely and just stared at me with his big eyes and long lashes.

I wondered how long he was going to ogle at me for. To keep it from reaching an unusual amount of time, I relented and said, "So what do you think?"

"I don't—I don't know what you want me to do." But he was totally going to do it. For whatever reason, I had complete control over this guy. I could literally make him do anything. This was fucking awesome.

Sitting back in my chair, I asked, "You've never turned yourself on?"

His cheeks pigmented. "What if I get a b-boner or something?"

"Boners are cool, dude. That means you're genuinely turned on." He didn't like that; he was embarrassed. Damn it. I had to fix my mistake. "I'm not going to draw your boner if you get one. It's your eyes that I care about."

It was the pupil dilation and the thick mist that would shroud his green irises. The emotion needed to be strong and if he wasn't capable of doing it himself, I knew I could do it for him. I didn't care if he was holding out for some cockblock crush. I'd find a way to turn him on.

Running a hand through is wet locks, he pushed the fringe from his face. "So I just—... I can't believe I'm doing this," he laughed. "Okay. You just want me to think of something that'll turn me on?"

My hands shot up. "Whoa. Let's not get creepy here. I don't want you thinking about a thing."

"I meant someone!" He cried.

"Just checking," I teased, scooting myself behind my easel. "So I'll just sit back here and not look at you while you get in the mood."

"Hey! I—I don't know what to do." I peeked around the edge of my paper skeptically. He appeared frazzled sitting there on the edge of my bed in only a loose towel. "I've never p-purposefully turned myself on before."

Then this was about to get pretty goddamn interesting. I returned to my station behind my easel. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel as though he couldn't do this, because he definitely could—he seemed like the secret wild thing type to me—a black horse—or to get so uncomfortable that he wussed out.

We just needed to remain calm and pretend like this was an everyday occurrence.

"Alright." I cracked my neck from side to side, relishing in the snaps. "What do you like about guys?" Before he could comment on that, I added, "Dicks are a given. I want to hear what you personally find attractive. What makes a particular guy your type?"

"Like, appearance wise?" It was obvious how scared he was by the tone of his brittle voice. "I—uh."

Picking up one of my graphite pencils, I drummed it against my knuckles. "Just pick out some details that you always look for."

For a moment he considered my suggestion. When he was ready to tell me, he said, "Height. I guess I like height. T-Tall, I mean."

"Okay. We can work with that." I nodded my head despite the fact that he couldn't see me. "So think of this tall guy. He's in this room with you and you're in your towel and you're still all wet and fresh from your shower. I know it sounds like I'm describing myself but I promise this guy is all in your head," I clarified. Tweek muffled an embarrassed giggle or maybe he was choking. "And we're not in my room. You're wherever the hell you want to be in your head. What else do you like?"

"Uhm—hips? I like hips." His hesitance made me smirk.

"Sounds mega hot. Alright; so this guy—he's a man. He's a man and he's tall and his hips are just delectable. He was blessed with the most scrumptious looking V lines. And he's gay and he's just for you. How is this sounding?"

Tweek was probably shaking his head right about now in an attempt to maintain his humor or maybe he was still choking. "It sounds good. But I like hands, too."

Again, I nodded. "What kind of hands? What do they look like?"

He hummed momentarily before saying, "Big hands. Just bigger than mine."

"Wonderful. Because this dream man of yours has those exact hands. Now don't tell me, but what are the things this guy does? Think about his hands that are just bigger than yours and think about what you want them to do to you." I let that digest in his system for a second and then threw out a couple of examples. "Maybe he's kissing you and his hands are holding your face because he wants you right there and he doesn't want to stop." Honestly, I was so good at this I was about to turn myself on. "Where is he touching you?" Creating boners were like my forte. "Maybe you're not wearing that towel anymore."

To check my progress, I took another peek around my easel and spotted Tweek. His eyes were cast toward the floor where every now and then he'd blink slowly. He looked like he was concentrating, cheeks lightly dappled pink. It was like he'd only just noticed me and started in his seat a bit, blush darkening a shade. I asked him how he was doing and he answered me with: "Oh, I am so turned on. Major boner over here, dude." But there was a shady aspect to his eyes that he couldn't hide. It wasn't enough to satisfy me, but it would work for something else.

This was good. I could take advantage of that pinch of darkness. I'd play his game just to ease him into it. "How turned on?"

The blonde rolled his eyes to emphasize just how greatly this imaginary man had impacted him. "So hard, dude, let me tell you."

"Damn. That sounds pretty fucking hard." Pretending like I had absolutely no ulterior motive, I stood up from my chair and took a step in Tweek's direction. "Quite an extreme boner right there."

"Oh yeah." The blonde's nod was exaggerated. "Yeah."

You have no clue what I'm about to do to you. I wandered closer and stopped just before his legs hanging off the bed. Though he'd scrubbed his hair, scant drops of water collected on his shoulders. One drizzled down his chest, stopping short past his collarbone.

He looked up at me and realized that I'd moved so near. "I don't know if I believe you."

His eyes widened for a quick instant before he could think of a retort. "W-Well, I'm not lying," was all he could come up with. I grinned down at him.

"I think I'd better check. Just in case." The smirk wiped clear off Tweek's face. He was malleable as I urged him to stand—pressed close between me and the bed—and dropped my hands to the waistline of his towel. His body understood and his chest began to heave but his brain was slow to register and it wasn't until I'd slipped my fingers beneath the towel that recognition and alarm registered on his features. Inching a little lower, my digits grazed his soft flesh.

It was as though he had to brace himself suddenly. His fingers of one hand dug into the nape of my neck while the rest latched around my wrist. "Craig—" At first I thought he meant to stop me, but when I tested his restraint, my palm was able to slide down his thigh. He inhaled sharply, and when I traced my hand back up his skin, closer to his crotch, it came out shaky. He let go of me, fingertips trailing up my arm to wrap around my neck. "This..." I bowed my head against his mouth to hear him whisper, damp and dry hair mingling. "This is just for your art?" Nodding, I repeated his question. Just for my art. "Okay," he breathed.

Immediately I sought to palm his flesh. He was warm in my hand. At my back, his fingers tightened. This would be a first for him. I was interested to see how he'd react, what noises he'd make, how long it'd take him to lose control, whether or not he really was a black horse. Wetting my lips, I let them brush against Tweek's cheek, palm rubbing in a reoccurring rhythm as I tempted him into hardening. He turned his chin up and I kissed the corner of his mouth, skin soaking up the heat of his sporadic breath. As he bit down on his bottom lip, face flushing a modest shade of rose, he shifted forward. His bare chest knocked against mine and I wondered if he liked the texture of my flannel, if he liked the friction.

His length grew and I accommodated it by wrapping my fingers around him. He began panting a notch louder, nudging our mouths together. Because his lips were already parted, I dipped my tongue between them and licked at his own. Wet, his tongue pushed back, running flat against mine before rolling in a slick haste. To get closer, he lifted his heels and teetered toward my body, arousal thrusting into my hand. He had to break away to breath harshly, clamping down on his lip crudely as his shoulders shuddered. I nuzzled my nose against his jaw, kissing the underside of it just before nipping at the same spot. His pulse was racing.

I wrapped my lips around the beating section and sucked softly, unsure of what he'd like. It wasn't often that I was gentle, but if that's what Tweek wanted, I'd adjust to his needs. When his head tipped back, I formed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. The further I pumped him and the firmer he grew, the more his cover loosened and sagged. There was a point where it became a hassle and I removed my hand to untie the towel. He reacted fast, fingers returned to my wrist, this time to bind me. "I—I don't want to be the only one naked," the blonde rapidly explained. I offered to take off my shirt and had this been any other circumstance, I don't think he would've agreed to it. But he kind of had a boner and the rules just weren't the same when you took that into account because shirtless Craig totally equalled naked Tweek.

Nodding his head, he released my limb. "I'll take my shirt off first." Goddamn thing was buttoned, though. I didn't know why I'd chosen to wear it today of all days. This was the one time when I needed clothes that I cold make quick work of. The buttons slid through their holes easily enough, Tweek watching the entire time, and when the two halves split apart, I got just what I'd wanted. His pupils dilated considerably, enamoring me. I shrugged my flannel the rest of the way off and didn't even hear it land on the floor around our feet.

I wondered if I had the hips he liked. My bones were fairly prominent and my V lines were subtle indentions. Before I could untie the blonde's towel, he reached out and cradled my waist. His lips were parted, puffed slightly, and he licked just the bottom one as he ghosted his thumbs over the angle of my hips. I tipped my head back, losing focus of my room for a moment when I let the sensation of his touch fill me. That...had felt rather good. He leaned forward, forehead pressed against my chest. He ran the pads of his thumbs over my skin a second time causing my stomach to clench at the seductive tickle. My eyelids fluttered and for a few seconds I completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

Tweek didn't seem to mind, focused on my abdomen instead. He brushed his fingers along my happy trail, traced it back up to my navel. I grabbed his chin and brought him up to kiss me. His hands traveled up my chest, tangled in my hair. I reached down and untucked the ends of his towel. This time I heard it, and just the automatic thought that this blonde that I was obsessed with drawing was naked distracted me all the way out of reality. It felt like none of this was real as I touched the outer and inner curves of his thighs, pulled him tight against me and held him there, listened to him make this noise like a whisper into my hair. He was on the tips of his toes, arms to the elbows around my neck, but I just couldn't stand down, was unwilling to give him leverage. I felt primal—I felt like a fucking animal, dominating.

Our mouths were nothing but tongue and breath and saliva. It was wet, smooth, and inviting. The blonde's erection rubbed against my crotch causing a hitch to stunt his choppy inhale. We pulled away and made eye contact in unison. His eyes were nearly black and I knew that mine had to have been, too. "Craig," he panted, digging his nails into my skin. My body shivered at the bite, eliciting in the short pain. He came closer and rubbed himself against me earnestly. Another short noise escaped his lips, enticing me. These sounds of his were too fleeting, too scarce.

The next time I spoke it was in low tones, husky in the back of my throat. "You like hands?" I asked, dragging mine down the expanse of his sides. He looked startled at first, exhaling in surprise, until he nodded his head. My fingers gripped his hips tightly, kneading into his flesh. "Where did you imagine them?" Tweek swallowed thickly, whimpering sweetly before grabbing either of my hands and maneuvering them over his ass. My stomach clenched impossibly tight. When I grabbed him, squeezing and thrusting him against me, a broken moan escaped his lips. His fingers returned to my hair, scrabbling for purchase as I rocked him into my hips.

"Craig," he said again. I slid one of my hands beneath his cheek and hiked his leg onto my waist. "Ah—" He arched his back, eyes shut tight. His nails raked down my arms and I just couldn't fucking stop. My clothed hips against his bare caused friction and he liked it; he kept making noises and they all sounded so goddamn attractive to my ears.

"Fuck." I lifted him onto my bed. Nobody has ever been on my bed like this and still I put him right there and he pulled on my arms to bring me to him. He let me between his legs and hugged me with his knees. The blonde nibbled on my lower lip and roved his palms down my back, slipped them around my waist and hooked a few of his fingers through my belt loops. My body bared down over his and we were lavishing each other's tongues when one of his hands slid around to my front and cupped me through my jeans. Fuck.

Automatically I began to fumble with my button and zipper, undoing them so I could grab Tweek's hand and introduce it to my dick. Through my boxer-briefs his palm had a luxurious warmth to it. I dropped my forehead to his, watching his response as he shuddered beneath me and I honestly think he just about came, moaning this needy sound that brought my fingers around his length.

A thought occurred to me, and I knew just what he needed before the orgasm of his first hand job. I dropped my head to the side and sidled my lips in close to his ear, just waiting for the right moment. His hips began reacting to my pumping fingers, instinctual in their shallow thrusts. My thumb dabbed at the head of his erection, smearing precum and spurring him on.

The right moment was the one clear instant where Tweek lost control. It was when his orgasm hit him. He thrust into my hand, clawed at my back, and tugged me closer by the shoulders; he arched his back, spread his legs; he moaned my name and repeated it multiple times in a cracked tone of voice that made my spine tingle. It was all done with abandon.

So I whispered in his ear: "Tweek." And I hadn't planned it, but I also said, "I think you're beautiful."

His lashes were long and dark over his eyes, bleary and fluttering. It was such a different light, a murky light, that I found in them like the beam of a lighthouse splitting through the fog. He came half into my hand, half on my stomach, but that was okay. I didn't mind body fluids the same way he did.

Once the blonde had taken a few rejuvenating breaths, this small smile appeared on his lips that I associated with how accomplished he must've felt. Neither of us had expected that much. I'd taken it as a possibility but I had honestly meant to stop. The lust was gone from his eyes and I'd have to draw it from memory now.

Or we could do this again and maybe I'd have more restraint next time. That and I had a pressing boner and a palm full of semen. The moment I moved, Tweek spoke up, soft-toned and whimsy sounding. "Did you mean it?"

Swallowing, I grabbed the edge of the blanket to cover him up and attempted to refrain was looking. "Yes," I admitted, getting down on an elbow to tuck him in. "You are very beautiful."

His smile grew and, sleepily, he asked, "Can we do this all the time?"

I smirked. "Sure, let's make it a habit. I'm flattered to know that you want me to jack you off all the time."

Again, I made to move, and again he stopped me. "Stay with me for a c-couple of minutes."

I looked from my wet hand to the bulge in my pants. "Okay," I grumbled, dropping my head against his chest. He sifted his fingers through my hair.