This is just a smutty oneshot I wrote to get my feels out. It feels so rare that I write stuff like this.

Tonight the choir sings: Take Me to Church by Hozier

The Gentle Sin

The room is quiet, all except for the voice of the preacher man. It's loud and booming; passionate. He knows what he's saying and he knows the words to lead the masses to a promised land.

He knows what he is saying.

Craig sits in a pew alongside his family. They're all clean cut and trimmed in their Sunday suits and church dresses. His sister pulls uncomfortably at her white collar.

It makes it hard for her to breathe.

His mother and father sit back in the hard pews with unreadable expressions. They don't seem to be feeling at all until his mother nods. She hears the preacher's words and she clings tightly to each one, just like many of the others in the rows. They would follow anything if it's spoken like it makes sense. They won't question or think on their own. Why should they if someone else is willing to do it for them?

Craig's leg bounces.

There is another person in the rows to the left of him. He's lost somewhere in the crowd with his own family.

His leg is also bouncing.

Their eyes discreetly search for one another, though neither dares to linger in their desperation for too long. They'd hate to be caught not paying attention to the booming voice and swinging arms of the man on his pulpit. He has everyone's eyes. He has their ears and their minds in the palms of his outstretched hands. If he dares to preach hate the others would feel it roll onto and off of their own tongues. Would he dare? Would he dare to take the floor and unwittingly dismantle everything Craig has built?

Oh, he dares.

He dares, but it's pointless. Craig doesn't need someone to explain what heaven is like, or how good he has to be to get there. Heaven is a place he's already been, and he knows no one can reach it by sitting motionless in a pew. His eyes prefer to search the room for the only person he believes should have the floor. A mop of unruly hair slicked back with gel finally catches his eye in the midst of all those suits and dresses.


He's a few rows ahead, in the pews to the left of the room. Everyone is so busy trying to raise themselves to the status of angels they don't stop to notice the one in the room. Craig does, though. He is very familiar with this divine being. He knows every freckle on his nose and every bump of his back. He knows how his tongue tastes and what his breath smells like in the morning. He knows every speck of blood on his wings and where he hides his halo.

He knows Tweek so well.

Too well.

Craig opts to play with his fingers to keep from being caught staring.

They're rather torn up. Scratches are still engraved on the sides of his hands from the last time he went to worship his angel. A blanket can still be found out in the woods where they laid. It's nestled comfortably underneath the thick veil of bushes. It was their alter, where they discovered the warmth of a heaven all their own.

Each other.

That is how Craig knows every word the preacher speaks is an unwitting lie.

Craig is so lost in thought he's taken by surprise when everyone around him stands up. He stumbles a bit before dropping a bible into the cubby in front of him, and then joining the others.

His sister holds onto his arm when they work their way out of the pew and merge with the river of churchgoers heading for the door. Their parents come behind them, huddled close in the mess of moving bodies as not to get separated. When they reach the main doors, Craig and Ruby take it upon themselves to hold them open for everyone else. They do this every Sunday. While their father prides them for being so courteous, Craig waits patiently to catch a glimpse of slicked blond hair and shaking hands.

Tweek blends in surprisingly well with the flock of non-believers, but Craig can spot him anywhere. A subtle smile unfolds on his face when the twitching boy comes his way. He takes a step back, and then offers a tiny bow to the other's parents.

"Oh, thank you, young man," Mrs. Tweak says with a smile as the last members of the church move around them to leave.

"Of course, Mrs. Tweak. You look just as lovely as always."

She offers only a flattered nod of her head, though her smile is large. Her son's right behind her. He tugs uncomfortably at his dress clothes.

"Nice tie," Craig compliments the shaking boy. It seems like such a small sentence, but there's such an enormous weight to it Craig almost couldn't cough it up. If only the congregation knew Craig's little complements were a sacred code. More rarely spoken than tongues, but, for the two gazing at one another, so much more relevant.

"Mm, yeah… Thank you," Tweek utters anxiously.

That's Craig's cue.

With a wide grin, he nods in understanding. Tweek has to keep his eyes on his shoes to avoid pink cheeks. Then, just like that, the Tweak family whisks him away and walks together towards the parking lot.

"Are you ready, dear?" his mother, Laura, asks as she places her hand on his broad shoulder.

He responds with a forced smile and a nod of his head. His father and sister come along with them as they, too, make their way to the family car.

The contented air around Craig remains even as they buckle in and the car's engine roars to life.

Their meeting at the church doors won't be his final encounter with his angel today.

He wears mostly black.

His hands are stuffed into the baggy hoodie that hugs his torso and hides his face. His jeans are the darkest blue he has, and he makes sure not to take the streets. Only allies and back yards can lead his way to the alter. To the divine being he longs to sully.

Grass crunches under his feet while he avoids the light of streetlamps. He isn't to be seen, lest be figured out. It's now he comes across the back of a familiar house. It's far from the house of God, but Craig can worship nowhere else. Luckily, all of the lights are off, and the yard is hidden entirely by the vail of night. Or it isn't luck at all. Perhaps its fate that's on his side tonight.

The soles of his shoes scuff against concrete. He's made it to the porch without detection, perfect. His hands grip the old porch railing, and he hops up onto it effortlessly. From there, he sticks his left foot against one of the four wooden columns. Each hole and hard edge makes it perfect for climbing.

He huffs slightly as he hoists himself up the column. Carefully, he climbs until his hands find an edge.

"Okay, here we go," he mutters before jamming his feet into one of the decorative shapes of the post and lurching upwards. Without a hitch, he pulls himself up onto the porch roof.

There is a conveniently placed window nestled into the second story wall. It overlooks the backyard much like Juliet's did. Slowly, he shuffles towards it.

The blinds are left open. For Craig, this is an invitation.

He presses his hands against the unlocked window.

Tweek hears the rustling from his place in bed. He doesn't get up to greet the intruder. In fact, he doesn't move at all as he hears a pair of old boots make contact with his hardwood floor.

The air around them is quiet like a room before a doctor's bad news. Tweek gnaws anxiously on his bottom lip when he hears the soft creaking of floorboards under someone's heavy footsteps. He shifts under his covers at the slickness between his thighs. It's on his fingers, too.

His breath gets heavier when he hears the quiet sounds stop beside his bed.

Lingering quietly for a moment, a pair of eyes sweep hungrily over his sheets.

The beating of his heart quickly becomes erratic when his mattress shifts with someone's weight. They lean over him, and a hand comes up from under his covers to gently stroke the soft curve of his side. Tweek lets out a very quiet moan in consent, but doesn't move when his covers lift away from his body. He does shiver, however, when the cold air catches the wetness on his thighs.

His room is dark, but just enough light comes in from his window for the other to take in the sight of him. His eyelids remain tightly closed, even when calloused fingers slowly find their way from the meat of his bottom to the part of his legs. Tweek spreads himself open, face still pressing into his pillow.

Something gently runs over his slicked heat, and he can't contain a sharp inhale when it presses inside.

A pair of thick fingers gently ease him open. He allows his trembling legs to push his bottom up, longing to feel them push deeper.

"Is that good?" A low, familiar, voice asks.

Tweek nods hard. His breath is caught in his throat, preventing an actual reply.

A pair of lips press against the back of his neck. Kisses, Tweek's reward for their sin. Tweek shivers when warm breath ghosts over his flesh. As the fingers inside him slip in deeper with jarring movement. He twists under his sheets, forcing that deliciously jerking hand to pull out of him. His back falls onto his mattress, and he lets his legs fall open. It's another invitation Craig and his hardening cock can't ignore.

They don't have the luxury of time. Tweek wants to feel all of him, and they both sadly need it to be quick.

The springs squeak softly as Craig crawls over him. Tweek grips the black fabric clinging to Craig's frame when he hears the familiar groan of a short zipper. His breath is rapid as the other releases himself from the cloth of his boxers.

Tweek lifts up, begging quietly for his lover to please him. Craig obliges. He sinks his bare hips down into Tweek's still slick thighs. His stiff cock rubs all the right places, and Tweek wraps his arms around Craig's neck with a needy breath.

"F-fuck," the twitchy blond lets out as Craig takes a hold of himself. As he presses himself inside.

Craig lies his panting body down atop the small person beneath him. He sinks his thumbs into jutting hipbones before slowly pumping his hips. Tweek lets out a soft cry- a quiet song to urge Craig deeper. They're both shaking as their bodies mesh together. As Craig holds Tweek's legs farther apart and the bed joins in with loud squeaks and groans.

Their lips mesh over and over, their sweating limbs tangle together, and their needy breath puffs onto each other's faces. It's been far too long since Tweek got to feel Craig. It's been far too long since Craig got to run his tongue along the neck of his angel, to taste the product of their tragedy. It was all too sweet.

"Ah," Craig groans against Tweek's collar bone. He slams harder, deeper, as their colliding flesh fills the room with panting and pleading.

"C-come in me," Tweek begs through gritted teeth. Through the jarring of each of Craig's violent thrusts.

Without a word, Craig fists Tweek's blankets in his hands. He shakes and quivers, and Tweek quietly urges him on with lustful cries. Craig slams inside with one more hard thrust. His skin shivers and his mouth falls open as he spills himself inside the other. Tweek's hips still slowly move, trying to regain the friction between himself and his lover's cock.

Craig sniffs and lets out a small gasp when Tweek pulls away and he falls out. Craig roots around in Tweek's neck, whimpering quietly and pumping his hips. He had his release, but enough is never enough.

They're both shaking as Tweek gets up, as he pushes Craig back onto the bed and crawls onto him.

Craig's still throbbing hard. His breathing is harsh and his muscles twitch every time Tweek makes contact. The little blond slides on top of him. His bare, slick ass sits right on Craig's sensitive length. Craig's hands go everywhere. They run along Tweek's bony chest, his flinching stomach, and his trembling thighs. One rightfully finds its home on the hard muscle between them. Craig squeezes and rubs. In return, his lover leans forward and presses down. He can do nothing but breathe in a shaky breath when he feels Tweek's warmth engulf him yet again.

His little lover's whole body seems to be vibrating as he slowly begins to bounce. Craig can't help but bite his lip as he watches with prying, heavy eyes.

He would be the first to admit that in these moments they are anything but holy. They are sick, vile deeds him and his lover grow ravenous for. That's made obvious by the wanton groans spilling out of Tweek's mouth as he desperately tries to reach release. His hips jerk and roll. His tiny hands make fists against Craig's broad chest. His face twists into delicious ecstasy when the head of Craig's cock hits right where Tweek needs. He leans forward, crying out with a red face. He rides Craig almost as if he isn't even there, using that hard dick to slam into that same sweet spot over and over and over. His arms begin to wobble and grow weak. Drool drips from his parted lips and his cock twitches and writhes as Craig's hand jerks it.

Tears brim in the corners of his closed eyes as he grabs for Craig's shoulders, as he presses his face into the other's chest to hide his relieved screams of pleasured release. His shaking body leaves a warm mess on the front of Craig's shirt, though the other doesn't seem to mind.

Tweek's shaking hands find comfort in the warmth of Craig's black jacket. He leaves his face hidden in it, as if it could mask his elation and his shame. Panting, Craig wraps the other in a strong embrace. He buries his face in Tweek's hair and takes a long whiff. He runs his fingers through it. He presses a kiss into it.

He sucks in a breath as he again falls out of Tweek's warmth. Letting go, he sits up with the other's naked body still partially on him. He stays for a short while. His calloused hands run up and down every hill and bump of Tweek's back as he waits for his lover to catch his breath. The boy doesn't want to let go. Neither does Craig.

"I should go," he finally whispers between labored breaths.

Tweek shakes his head, and then replies with a wet kiss on Craigs lips. Craig hums and allows one last taste of the beautiful angel. He runs his tongue along the inside of the other's mouth. Tweek softly sucks on the intruder, which makes Craig shiver down to his core.

He reluctantly pulls away, but Tweek doesn't get out of his lap. His warm, bare skin is still pressing against Craig's exposed unmentionables. Tweek's forehead presses against his own. Wild, blond strands of hair brush Craig's sweaty skin.

"Don't leave," a tiny voice pleads through tremors. "Stay with me. I'll suck on you."

Craig is almost left breathless. He wants back inside. He wants the warmth and the quiet noises that let him know he's making Tweek feel good. His head is still clouded by a desire that's never left satisfied, but he knows better than to stay.

No amount of wanting or whispered pleading can change one fact: Their midnight affairs are sins. Sins that can never be repeated if Craig is caught streaking an angel's skin with spit and come.

"I'm sorry," Craig utters despite his heart raddling around in his head. "We'll meet again soon, then you can suck me all you'd like."

Tweek lets out the smallest laugh. His hands are holding one of Craig's. He squeezes it tightly.

"O-okay, I just… want to ask one thing before you go."

Craig looks at Tweek's face through the faint lighting. It seems almost worried, which isn't anything new. Tweek always seems to wear that expression in one way or another. The blond fiddles with Craig's fingers for a moment before taking in a steadying breath.

"You… aren't going to leave this town without me… right?" He seems to be pleading. The look in those round eyes says it all. The question is so random Craig doesn't know what to make of it at first. They'd never talked about the future, or if they even had one.

"No," Craig utters beneath the silence. "I won't."

Tweek sinks against Craig's front in relief. He sighs lightly, and then nods against the other's soiled shirt. They both look up when they hear a small noise from somewhere in the house. It almost sounds like the closing of a door, which makes Craig lose all the breath he just regained.

Tweek watches as Craig quickly stands and tucks his limp cock back into his unzipped pants. He doesn't bother messing with the come all over his shirt. He just zips up his hoodie and quickly makes his way to the window. However, he does stop to take one last look at the boy in bed. His hair is sticking up every which way, and small splotches of light reflect from his flush, wet skin.

"I'll see you at church," he utters before taking a hold of the window frame and slipping back out into the darkness.