WHO'S READY FOR SOME UPDATES? WOOOOOOO!
Art distills sensation and embodies it with enhanced meaning in a memorable form—or else it is not art.
—Jacques Barzun
That morning I woke up starving and naked. Tweek hadn't minded my suggestion to sleep nude last night—being drunk as fuck often led to happenstances like that—plus our drawers were kind of soiled—but I didn't think he'd be as favorable about it today when he woke up sober. So it was probably for my benefit that I got up before him and I had my stomach to thank for that. As a reward, I clothed my lower half and went into the kitchen to eat breakfast.
Out in the living room there were red plastic cups and beer cans haphazardly strewn across the floor. I stepped over the numerous obstacles, greeted my friends who were already awake and cleaning, and made a turkey and ham sandwich with extra mayonnaise because I'd done good last night.
"Why doesn't he have to clean?" Clyde grumbled, glaring at me from his place on the floor. He was showing signs of a hangover and his companions weren't helping. The Julibeagles kept trying to snatch the cans and cups he was putting into the trash bag.
"Because you opted to do it last night and specifically said that Craig and Token wouldn't have to since they're your best friends," his girlfriend answered.
Looking more closely, I noticed that Token was actually watching television. He looked over, smiled and waved. We nodded at each other. "Sweet," I said, crossing the room to take a seat beside to him.
"Assholes," the brunette spat, throwing a can at my head. I deflected it with my sandwich, but Julibee was harder to throw off.
"At least you got a blow job last night," I reminded him.
He snorted. "Like you didn't."
Feeling snarky, I bragged, "Yeah, you're right. I dry humped the fuck out of Tweek last night."
It was meant to be a joke when he started to mock gag, and it was funny at first, but as queasy and nauseous as he was, he literally heaved right into the bag. And then it got even funnier. "Assholes," he repeated, sniggering this time.
"So what's this about a secret being out?" Pretty Lady asked, ignoring her boyfriend's vomiting. He was an after-party puker; we were used to it.
My two best friends focused their attention on me, Clyde somewhat distractedly. "Tweek admitted that he's got a huge boner for me. So I was right and I'm Sherlock Holmes."
"We knew that already, dude," Token informed. "And I'm referring to the Tweek thing, not the Sherlock thing." When I asked him what he meant, his answer was: "Tweek's always had a crush on you. You were just too introverted to notice."
"No," I objected. "I'm talking about how you don't think I'm Sherlock Holmes reincarnated." He gave me a look, rubbed his forehead as though I were hopeless, and returned to his television show. Cracking a grin, I said, "I'm just fucking with you. What do you mean you already knew about the Tweek thing?"
"Craig," Clyde stated. I was so confused. Was he in on it too? "The first time that poor kid ever got a boner was because of you."
"You guys really think it's been that long?" I asked, glancing around the room at each of their grave expressions that needed no type of answer. Even Pretty Lady. "Seriously?" My mind was blown all over again. "No way, you guys."
Token clapped me on the shoulder. "You never knew it, but Tweek's been going steady with you for quite a long while."
As I shook my head skeptically, Clyde added, "You've been his chastity belt, dude. At least you know he's loyal."
How many years loyal? My friends were talking about four years at least. A minimum of four years and two hours away. Was it even possible for infatuation to last so long without reciprocation? I hadn't even been present for him to have anything to have a crush on. It was like having a crush on a celebrity—utterly futile. And somehow he'd persisted long enough for Kenny to act on one of his usual, cupidesque scheme.
Did it even make sense that supposedly no other man had been able to steal him away? South Park was small and practically inbred but it had to have had some type of offer, a promise of some sort. My sister had even found a boy to placate her hormones. Her nasty little hormones that scared her brother shitless. It was just a tough call to say that no one had attracted the blonde like I—obliviously—had. His quirks and OCD tendencies probably included attachment issues, but still. What was a guy who had little to no need for a companion supposed to think? How would I be able to dissect and infer Tweek's devotion in a way that made sense to me?
And then I started to think about how I could keep him content. Everything he felt for me was incredibly in-depth. There were bits and pieces I didn't understand, and more bits and pieces that I was sure I didn't even know about. The inclination that Tweek's intentions wanted to go somewhere...committed were rather apparent, but I didn't think I'd be able to do that. Relationships were a weird, unfamiliar chunk of territory that didn't appeal to me. I had no doubt that I could keep one. It wasn't about the honesty or loyalty that didn't do it for me. It was that the idea behind a relationship—the reassurance and the unity—which were things that I just didn't need.
Certain people didn't want to get married, certain people didn't want to have children, certain people didn't want a title. A simple word could change every detail so fractionally that it became a drastic difference overall, and that wasn't something that I wanted to be a part of.
I'd only just affirmed his crush and things were already complicated. My short time of being smug was over.
That's when we heard a door open and the sound of retching from the bathroom. Clyde laughed for the beat of a second before hovering his face over the trash bag on the verge of barfing for a second time, breathing deeply with saliva dripping from his lips. "You're not alone anymore," I congratulated. On my way to the bathroom, I slapped him on the back to induce his stomach into revolt.
Inside I got an earful of heightened vomiting sounds. There was the splash of bile hitting toilet water and Tweek sniffling. His figure was hunched over the toilet bowl, shoulders quivering and knuckles white. He was wearing a pair of my boxers. Smirking, I shut the door behind me and grabbed a washcloth to dampen it with cold water. Clyde loved being coddled when he had a hangover, so hopefully the blonde would be the same, because I was pretty good at it.
Once I knelt down behind him, I took the wet towel and placed it between his shoulder blades, watching as his body tensed briefly. He breathed audibly to control the nausea in his stomach and slumped against me, head cradled just beneath my collarbone. I moved the cloth down his back and used my free hand to swipe at his chin, wiping away any excess vomit from his lips. His groan was one of mortification.
"I'm s-sorry," he apologized over the flush of the toilet.
"Don't worry about it." The towel returned to his shoulders where I hugged him with it, listening as he sighed and nuzzled his face against my chest. "I don't mind."
"And about last night," he began, trailing off shyly.
"Yeah," I agreed. "You should apologize for that. Not saying my name and all."
I felt his lips curve against my skin. "Why would I? It's all p-part of my plan."
"Your plan, huh?" Laying the washcloth on the back of his neck, I asked, "What plan is this?"
"My plan to seduce you," the blonde answered.
"And you think that not giving me what I want will seduce me?"
"Yes." He sounded different, sure of himself. "It'll make you want me more."
In a way, he was correct. I did kind of want a repeat of last night just so that I could hear him say my name. "Are you sure you can do that?" I asked. "Give me what I want?"
"Well, you like it when I call you Craigifer." The hint of a shiver rippled down my spine. "So yeah, I think I can." But then he said, "You need to teach me how to s-seduce a man first."
As an automatic response, I died. I fell away from him and landed limp on the tile floor. Not only had I forgotten about our wresting, dirty talk, and art of seduction lessons, but Tweek really had no idea what he was doing. His "plan" had been a bluff.
Tentatively, so as not to disrupt his stomach, he crawled next to me and curled up against my side. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks before you leave," I said. "What's the latest you're allowed to stay out?"
"However long I want," he answered bitterly.
But he lived under his mom and dad's roof and their law was superior. "When do your parents want you home, Tweek?"
"I can show up whenever I feel like it." So basically, the same answer.
"At what point in time will your parents be pissed that you're not home?" He rolled away from me and faced the opposite direction. I followed after him, unwelcome when he didn't respond to my advance.
Sighing, I laid my hand on his thigh and tucked my fingers beneath the fabric of my boxers he was wearing. It would be harder to ignore a physical approach. "You have a crush on me," I reminded him, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You want your parents to like me so don't let me ruin this."
He was silent for a while and I wondered if I'd upset him by using that as a weapon. I wasn't even sure if he remembered telling me that he liked me last night. He wasn't freaking out, though, just tense and unhappy. Had he been unaware of this knowledge I now had, I think he would've thrown up again. Instead, his eventual reaction was to grumble frustratedly as he leaned into my back and muttered, "M-midnight."
"That's all you had to say," I told him, chuckling. My hand slipped further up his thigh, hand practically encompassing its entirety. He tried to control his next breath and I could tell how hard he was focusing on keeping it even. "Go ahead and brush your teeth and drink some water. I'll get you your medicine."
"D-do you know what to get?" He asked hurriedly, alarmed when I began to sit up.
Nodding my head, I said, "Yeah. I memorized what you need to take and when." His dad had given me the rundown upon my request. I was good at memorizing on the spot. Eszopiclone for insomnia before bed, Celexa in the morning or evening for OCD, Propranolol three to four times daily for anxiety, Risperdal once or twice for his stutter, and if he got particularly bad, Prozac for his paranoia.
The farthest I got was to my knees when Tweek rose up and kissed me. He stayed put for a second before jerking away. "I-I'm so sorry. That...probably tasted like throw up."
"A little," I admitted, checking the flavor of my lips. Leaning down, I pecked his mouth once more and then officially stood up.
As I left, it wasn't difficult to miss the soft ogle he was showering me with. That must've been what wiping vomit off his mouth with my bare hand and kissing his unsanitary lips called for. It really was a shame that I was so unattainable when I was such boyfriend material.
After retrieving a select amount of pills from Tweek's collection of medication, I grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, and returned to the bathroom where I walked in on the blonde emptying the liquid contents of stomach a second time. He'd been doing so good, too. I rewet the washcloth, allowing it to soak up enough water so that when I held it above his back I could squeeze out tiny rivers. Clear tendrils ran in broken patterns down his skin. He hummed approvingly, easing himself off the floor, and had me watching attentively as he flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and started brushing his teeth.
Halfway through I began to notice how he was slowly lowering himself toward the sink, and by the time he was finished, he nearly had his face in the bowl. He was fatigued. "Come on," I instructed, handing him his medication and the water. "Take these and then we're going to go lay down." I had to lead him down the hallway to get him there without crawling, but lost him at the door and put down pillows and blankets because the floor was the only place he was going.
Settling in next to him, I interwove our legs and placed his head on my bicep, an arm around his back. He snuggled up to me rather merrily, pressing his nose against my skin and inhaling deeply. His eyes were a lost cause, lashes stuck to his cheeks. The lightly colored circles around them were a tone darker, more noticeable. "Is it okay if I t-think you're perfect?" He murmured.
"Oh man," I sniggered. "Are you still drunk? Soon you'll be calling me your God and that my eyes are the color of heaven's crystal rivers."
Even though he called me a jerk, there was an affectionate smile on his face.
"So why am I so flawless?"
His shoulders moved in what might've been the semblance of a shrug. "I don't know," he breathed.
When I asked him if he was lying, he said that he was.
"That's not very fair," I argued. "You tell me I'm perfect but you won't tell me why. Now I'm curious." Teasingly I added, "You won't like me when I'm curious."
He grinned as though he knew something I didn't. "I like you however you are."
"Oh no. Here comes the part about—" Tweek cut me off unexpectedly by rolling on top of me.
Knees hugging my waist, he leaned over and suggested against my lips, "You should teach me how to seduce a man." His voice was breathy and soft, warm where his words touched my mouth. I could feel his hands braced against my chest, nails grazing my collarbones. Another surprise came in the form of his body shifting lower, placing him in a position over of my abdomen.
I wanted to grab his ass and roll our hips together—after last night, he'd left me with nothing but impatience—only I didn't want to teach him how to seduce someone that way. I wanted him to learn how to ease arousal out of a man, specifically me. So the first thing I said was accompanied by a smirk. "Well, I'd say the least amount of clothes, the better."
"I'm doing good so far then?" He asked, our lips brushing.
"I don't know," I mused, feigning obliviousness. "Do I have a boner yet?"
"That's a good question. Let me check." Without warning, he wiggled his hips around and shook his butt. "Nope. We're good."
It got me to laugh and say, "You have a tendency to be playful. That can be a way of seduction." He smiled timidly, reverting back to his shy self. "How about any illicit fantasies?"
"Like sex-wise?" He blanched. I nodded my head. "That's going to t-turn a man on? Sex fantasies?"
Maybe I was a fucking idiot when I never realized his crush on me, but if he hadn't been aware that sexual fantasies turned people on then there really wasn't any hope for either of us. "Just talking about it stimulates the mind in the same way that thinking about it does. Usually something raunchy works good. And since, you know, they'll be about me..."
His glare stemmed from embarrassment. "I don't think—"
"You can't tell me you haven't thought dirty, wild things about me. I'll be so disappointed and then I'll never get a boner."
"I haven't—" Cheeks flaming, he continued with, "It's nothing serious." At my sudden grin, his expression turned humiliated. "Just—like, ugh. Okay. In high school, there were times when you'd just show up, like" —he pushed his bangs from his forehead frustratedly— "at Kenny's house or at a party or something—I don't know." To lessen his turmoil, I helped him move his hair from his face, tucking strands of fair hair behind his ears and keeping them from his eyes. "I'd just think like, I wanted you t-to push me against the wall or something. That was it."
And that was as risqué as Tweek Tweak could get.
How unfortunate.
I tried not to laugh, but it was hard when the blonde was genuinely embarrassed about what he considered raunchy: that he wanted me to push him against a wall. I mean, it certainly had the potential to become kinky... This poor, naive boy just wasn't going to get there anytime today.
Despite the humor behind it, his anecdote had at least given me an idea of how longterm this crush was. Not only was it four years ago, but past that and into high school.
"Yeah?" He growled. "What are some of your fantasies then? Let's hear how asexual you really are."
I had begun to notice that my supposed asexuality was something that he liked to attack.
"Alright." His mouth twitched at my indifference to the subject. I'd go with a classic. "Token's always considering a motorcycle—"
He immediately rejected the thought, quite clearly short of breath. "M-maybe a different one..." I think he might've liked the idea of me and a motorcycle. That or it was Token. Token could alter even the most terrifying of situations into a charming one.
"No?" I was just rubbing it in now and Tweek knew it. "I didn't even get to suggest the things we should do if he does get one." I watched closely for him to react to my specification of we and found it in the drop of his features. Too quickly he went from angry to neutral, swallowing in time with the change. "Do you want to hear the ones where you're exclusively involved, then?"
It took him a second before he found the ability to nod dumbly. Passing my thumb along the shell of his ear, I shared with him a few scenarios from my head. To be completely honest, I was thinking them up on the spot, the first of which wasn't necessarily mine so much as it was meant for him. He would think it was pretty goddamn illicit. "That couch out in the living room..." I paused and waited to calculate his response. He shook his head, but he seemed a little unsure about it. I tucked my fingers into his hair around the back of his head. None of these were the effect that I was looking for, but once I found something that inclined his interest, I would experiment with it. A few more suggestions, then.
This one I had actually reminisced once. "When I picked you up the other day and we were on that bench outside the restaurant." As I was staring into his eyes, my own half-mast, his pupils dilated. This was a reaction that encouraged me. "You put my cigarette in your mouth and watching you smoke had actually really attracted me. I liked it because it was mine and because there are other things that I own that I could—"
"Okay." He stopped me right there, fingernails biting into my skin. "You're uh—p-pretty good at this." It wasn't funny anymore so much as it was downright cute. I'd only described what had literally happened—not what happened in my head afterwards. None of those had been fantasies yet. His overall innocence in a general sense was turning me on, and I would've told him that, but he wanted to leave the fantasy category prematurely. "What's next?"
"Some guys like it hard to get," I mused. "They like the challenge and the satisfaction of dominating. Like your name trick." Tweek smirked proudly, a conniving edge hidden away beneath his egotism. I went ahead and let him take the win because he'd definitely gotten me with it. "Subtle touches are nice, too. We've done a lot of those, I'd say." His imperceptible nod got a chuckle out of me. "That and proximity. Little things like that are signs that you're interested."
As I considered my best friends and their individual interests, I added, "Clyde likes vulgar text messages in public. Like when his girlfriend texts him that she wants him to eat her out, he gets turned on. You can always tell because he'll be like, 'dude, my girlfriend totally wants my nuts. She just told me herself.'" I imitated his voice and everything, earning Tweek's laughter in tandem.
A forgotten fragment resurfaced. Before I lost it, I threw it into my lesson. "When I mentioned being subtle, that's really an essential part of seducing. If you touch yourself—not sexually because we're being subtle here—but just an indistinct brush against the neck or lips is very appealing. It attracts the eye, and if you attract my eye to your lips, I'm going to be like, 'hey, those are some nice lips. Maybe I want to kiss them.'"
Tweek was giggling, a sure sign that I'd wooed him straight to the bone. The best part was that I wasn't even giving him tips for men as an overall consensus. I was giving him tips for me. These were all of the things that I was aroused by, minus Clyde's little kink. My best friend just always had to get thrown in there somehow.
"W-what about the hair thing?" Oh yes, the hair thing. The hair thing was very effective. "You like it when your hair is pulled."
"Stimulation of the hair follicles, yes, that feels mighty fine," I agreed.
"And you like scratching, too." As though to emphasize his point, the blonde took his nails and drew pressured lines down my pectorals.
"I do," I said, slipping my hands up his thighs, fingers shifting beneath the boxers he wore. His nails bit a little harder and my pulse jolted in response. "I'm not going to lie, but every time you take your clothes off I'm like...that's pretty nice."
He smiled and licked his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth. He refrained from looking at me as he did it, though. "So every time I want to seduce you, I should just undress?"
"Mhmm."
Rolling his eyes, he asked, "What else do you like?"
Now we were onto me even though that was the only place we've been this entire time. The difference was that Tweek had instigated the specification himself. I smirked. "That's a bit bold of you."
"I did say I'd be seducing you, didn't I?" His voice quavered slightly, nervous now.
"You might've. I can't remember all that well."
He stared at my stomach, blushing at my fib. His fingertips ghosted up my sides, rising to my shoulders where they followed the length of my arms down to my wrists. The featherlight touch gave me goosebumps. Gripping them, he flipped my hands around and laced our fingers together. I could practically see the heat rising toward his face as he took my arms and pinned them beside my head.
"Craig," he started, sweetly stating my name. My eyes trailed up the expanse of his angled chest before ultimately meeting his hooded gaze. It was an encompassing thing, shrouded by long lashes, hazy and deep. "Tell me what turns you on so that I can seduce you, please."
Chuckling at the innocence radiating throughout his bashful show, I relented and said, "Only because you said the magic word."
A sharp glint flickered behind his earnest eyes. "I can think of another magic word, Craigifer."
My stomach clenched, fingers yawning only to clamp down around his own. Our mouths joined in unison, fervent in the way Tweek's grip tightened and his lips parted. Moist, warm saliva made our conjoined kisses fluid, the movement of our mouths slippery. In order to bring himself closer, lower, he had to shift his hips, not only deepening our kiss but rubbing ourselves together. He pulled away to snigger and it ended in a shaky breath.
There was a moment in there where all we did was look at each other and breathe until that was the only sound that filled our ears. The blonde's eyes were large, consuming everything until there was just white noise surrounding them. "I like hands on my thighs. Like when they're just resting there. It's teasing, I guess. Belly rubs feel good, too." He smiled at that, but I was being serious. It was all very technical. "When you're turned on, veins in your stomach squeeze. Blood flow intensifies toward areas surrounding the penis including the thighs. It increases sensitivity. A belly rub enhances that."
Smoothing my thumbs against his hands, I continued with, "And I know you're shy when it comes to eye contact, but looking at dilated pupils will arouse anyone." Just by saying that—whether it had a stimulating effect or not—Tweek glanced away. That one would be a lost cause, I observed. "What about sleeping nude then? We did that last night and I liked it."
"Only because I was drunk! You were p-persuasive," he grumbled, pouting.
"Yeah. That's because people tend to do odd things after they orgasm." I lifted my hips and quirked my brows.
The blonde's breath hitched. Grinning suddenly, he dipped his own to press against mine. "I wasn't the only one," he reminded me.
I hummed in agreement and rotated my lower half in an uplifting rhythm. The slight rocking motion of Tweek's body captivated me as well as the tentative press of his crotch. Heat began to stir in the pit of my stomach as the blonde dropped his head. He pushed our palms together for leverage, growing a fraction more brazen with his hips.
"So." My voice had a gruff edge to it. I knew Tweek liked it by the way his fingers tightened. A wide smile met my face. "Clyde also likes to watch his girlfriend masturbate."
"No." There was no delay to his rejection, but he sounded distracted. I wondered what he was imagining inside his head.
"You wouldn't let me watch you jack off?" I asked, wanting to reach out and roughen the roll of his hips.
His breath came out particularly fast. He wasn't just flushing because he was embarrassed anymore. "I—I don't know."
"You're considering it," I purred, snickering softly. The pooling warmth in my stomach constricted fervently. Tweek's sidetracked deliberation was exciting. "You on top is pretty nice. You look good up there." Tilting his head to the side, the blonde held out mouths together, teeth grazing my bottom lip. "See what I'm doing?" I asked, stretching until my back arched and our chests brushed, hips inclined to grind against his. "I'm complimenting you. I'm making you think. Your brain is releasing dopamine into your system so you're at your most influential state. You feel the most desire right now. Have you noticed the words I've been using? Subconsciously you've been picking up on ones like stimulation, dominating, seducing, teasing—things like that—because language can effect hormones."
"I thought you were s-supposed to be asexual," he whimpered after a short pause. "Why do you know all of this?"
"I'm not a sexual person" —Tweek gave me a look, one that I ignored— "but stuff like this interests me. I like to know why bodies do what they do."
Ignoring me just the same, the blonde asked, "Can you do me a favor and repeat the very first thing you just said?"
"I know that it doesn't seem like it right now but honestly I am the least sexual—"
He leaned back into a position that left him sitting in my lap and detached our hands to slip his fingers beneath the waistband of my boxer-briefs in warning. "Do I need to show you your boner or are you going to continue to pretend like you're the 'least sexual' person on the planet?"
"Oh, okay." I clucked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "We can play dirty if that's the way you want it." Looking him dead in the eye, I demanded, "Take them off."
His entire facade wavered.
That's right, my amusement snarled wickedly.
Somebody had told him that I had a nice dick and now he was too afraid to prove them right, because if they were, then that meant he'd be creaming his pants right in front of me the instant he saw it.
"Either you're going to do it or I'm going to do it." My upcoming rant was going to completely obliterate my threatening aura, but I just couldn't stop myself. "And if I do it then I might have to dickslap you for being such a pansy. And then I might slip inside your mouth a little and then we don't know what could possibly happen. So, I mean, choose wisely, dude."
Tweek's mouth had dropped at dickslap and now he was just giggling inanely. "You totally want me to give you a blow job."
"Hey." I help my palms up in surrender. "If you're suggesting that to happen, then I don't think I could find it in myself to argue."
The expression on his face was one that called me a condescending little prick. He wore it openly, shaking his head in disbelief as he crawled back on top of me. It was a suggestive, attractive movement with his feline-like body. Hovering above me, he said, "Just admit that you want me to."
Taking him off guard, I wrapped my arms around his body and twisted us around. An alarmed shriek spewed from his mouth as he landed in a pile of pillows. "I totally want you to give me a blow job." I leaned over him, bracing my hands on either side of his head and eased myself lower, pecking his lips around his laughter. "And you totally want to give me a blow job." His eyebrows raised skeptically, breaking down when I took his hand and placed it on my chest. He watched them, my palm over the back of his, as they slipped down my stomach and headed toward my half-awakened arousal. "Because you have a huge crush on me and want me all over you."
Just before reaching between my legs, I took my hand away and gave Tweek the choice to back out. He paused briefly, eyes flitting up to glance at me. The presence of his hand so close to me and the obvious view I had of him with his legs parted was fixing the remaining limpness of my erection. The blonde wrapped his fingers around my length through the fabric of my clothing and squeezed cautiously, testing out its effectivity. I closed my eyes and sighed through my teeth as he shifted his hand and repeated the action.
Insecurity showed through the slight trembling of his fingers. This wasn't anything he's ever done before and he didn't want to mess up, not when it came to me. "You're not actually going to do it," I told him because I had just been giving him a hard time. He shook his head, staring up at my with his big eyes all worriedly. "Don't worry. What you're doing feels good." I thrust into his hand as proof to let him feel how hard I was.
With his opposite hand, he grabbed the back of my neck and tugged me down to him, meshing our mouths together. His lips were soft and pliant, easily parting against the intrusion of my tongue. I got down on my elbows, tilting my head to the side to better align our kiss. Tweek's response was submissive, his tongue coaxing my own further into his mouth. His hand retreated to my naval, fingers traveling over my happy trail. He was in the midst of rolling our tongues around when he tucked his fingertips beneath the waistline of my boxer-briefs. It was a timid suggestion, one that I answered by scooting closer, inching his digits lower. He paused entirely for a brief second.
And then multiple things happened unanimously: The hold he had on my neck tightened, his mouth resumed our kiss enthusiastically, and his entire hand breached the barrier of my clothing. I felt his fingers wrap around me, the warmth of his palm seductive as it grazed my shaft. A low rumble came from the back of my throat, inspiring the blonde to stroke the length of my arousal. My skin shivered as I imagined his dainty hand and heat spread throughout my body at his next gentle tug. I wondered how lucky he thought he was getting to jack off the guy he's only ever been able to think about for however many years. This must've been surreal to him.
Sneaking my hands behind his back, I lifted him until we were both sitting up, him in my lap. He jolted at our new position, grip unintentionally clenching around my erection. A pleasurably sharp sensation shot up my spine. I slid my hands down his back, smoothing out his skin at a slow pace. His back arched as I continued to travel lower, and when my fingers skimmed the start of the boxers he was wearing, his chest pressed against my own. He'd begun leaving openmouthed kisses down my jawline. I slipped my hands beneath the boxers and rounded the curve of his rear, grabbing his ass and hiking him higher. His hand moved with his body, stroking my shaft and grazing my tip. He returned his fingers toward the base of my arousal just as his mouth clamped down around a portion of skin along the column of my throat.
I tipped my head back, reveling in the rhythm of the strokes he was applying to my erection and the sucking, nipping of his teeth. His nails digging into the nape of my neck caused my skin to shiver. He was warm and I was warm and I kind of wished we were on my bed beneath the sheets because that would've confined the heat pilfering between our bodies. Instead, I took a hand and hooked the waistband of his clothing with my fingers. I implied that he take the article off by tugging gently. Raising his head, Tweek nestled our lips together and whispered, "Why are you always trying to get me naked?"
It just so happened to be that he'd asked me that while drawing his touch up the underside of my length. A hushed moan followed his pleasant action. "I'm trying to make you comfortable that way you won't mind when I ask you to let me do a nude portrait of you," I said, looking up at him and the fire in his cheeks. He didn't seem to know how to react and didn't manage to register it in time when I pushed him to his knees and pulled the boxers he was wearing clean off his hips.
"Craig!" He screamed, jerking away with his hands covering his crotch. Landing in the pile of blankets and pillows, he grabbed a sheet and threw it across his lap.
His modesty really needed to tone down a notch. "I've seen you naked before," I tried to explain.
Tweek shrieked something incoherent and aimed a pillow at me, flinging it viciously. "You've never actually stopped to l-look so that doesn't count!" The plush weapon collided with my chest, a simple thing to ignore as I reached beneath the blanket, past the blonde's kicking legs, and shed the article off completely.
"Then let me look now so we can get it over with." My bargain was futile and I had to grab him by the ankles to keep him from kicking me in the face.
"Stop it, Craig." I started laughing, sliding my palms up his calves. "This isn't fucking funny!"
Sighing, I sat back on my haunches. "I'll take off mine if you take off yours."
"What?" He cried. "No! That's s-stupid!"
"No, it's not. It's fair."
Rising to my knees, I reached for my boxer-briefs and had given them one small tug when Tweek whimpered out, "But you're not self-conscious."
"You don't have to be either." As I reassured him, I crawled closer and eased my hands beneath the sheet, caressing his calves to calm him. "I don't know where you got the idea that you're not good enough."
He swallowed uneasily, a guarded expression on his pink face. "I—I'm too skinny. It's unattractive."
My head dropped for a instant. When I raised it again, I told him, "You're not skin and bones, Tweek. You're lean." I squeezed his calves lightly. "This is muscle I'm holding."
"B-But—" Inching closer, my hands traveled down the undersides of his legs. "No—wait. Craig—"
"Shh..." To comfort him, I reached around and pulled more of the blanket across his hips. "Just lay down," I quietly instructed. He was hesitant, brows knitting. Again I whispered, "Just lay down."
Remaining sketchy, Tweek lowered himself onto the pillows and exhaled unevenly. I followed him down, leaning above his chest where I placed a few short kisses. His skin immediately prickled, nipples hardening. "Craig, what are you—?"
Again I shushed him, fingers kneading his thighs. He shifted beneath me, ribcage expanding rapidly. I traced a gentle line down the center of his chest with my mouth, planting kisses wherever I wanted to. When I reached his stomach, my tongue left a moist trail in its wake. Curling my hand around Tweek's waist, I had him arch into my mouth. Broken sighs and audible breaths swarmed my ears and from my peripheral I could see hands twisting in the blanket.
I sucked lightly on the space below his naval and worked my hand past his butt and up his thigh, hugging his limb to the side of my body. As I neared the edge of the concealing blanket, I nudged it aside and placed an openmouthed kiss on the small portion of skin revealed to me. Something I had noticed before was that Tweek didn't have a happy trail so much as he had a very scarce amount of fair hair, and that the lower I got, the more the amount remained the same. By the time I was just above his pelvis, it occurred to me that the blonde shaved, and I was just beginning to push what was left of the sheet aside when he grabbed me by the hair.
"Please don't. I—I can't do it."
As his hold loosened, I pulled back completely and situated the cover on his lap the way it'd been before I'd moved it. "Okay," I said.
His features took an instantaneous downfall. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Tweek—" I paused when his eyes grew glossy, a sheen of tears filling their wide shape. "Hey, come here." Tugging on his arms, I pulled his flimsy body off the floor.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, head and arms limp against my chest.
Threading my fingers through his hair, I asked, "Why are you crying?"
"I don't know." But we both knew that he wasn't telling the truth.
The sigh that followed his lie filled me deeply. "You want to impress me," I said. A few beads of liquid touched my skin. He wiped them away. I smiled despite the situation. "You think I'll be disappointed. That I won't like your body." It was clear that I was right when he remained still, his sniffle the only sound contorting the silence. "I'm probably coming across as an asshole. Like all I want to do is take your clothes off."
"No!" The blonde's head shot up. "That's not what you are! It's just that I've wanted this for s-so long and I never thought it would happen and so I didn't think about how uncertain I'd be of m-my body or—" His voice cracked. I'd made him cry again.
"Okay, Tweek." I ran the back of my hand across his cheeks. "No more crying."
He took my hand and turned toward it, kissing my palm. "I like you. I w-want you to want to take my clothes off. I'm just... You're right. I don't want to disappoint you."
"It's not like you've disappointed me yet."
Inwardly, the blonde tried to fight both his smile and his blush. "Can I a-at least apologize for ruining the mood?"
"Yeah," I assured him. "That's something you can apologize for."