There is no beauty without some strangeness.
—Edgar Allan Poe
Tweek's point of view:
Craig was naked and in my bedroom.
He might've been wearing a towel but—fuck—he was naked.
"Tweek?" Stan's voice was coming through the speaker of my phone, registering in my ear but not my head. "Tweek? Hello?"
We had been in the middle of a conversation, but not anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.
His hair was pushed away from his face, currently soaked and resembling black tar—sexy black tar. He looked better shirtless and clean than he did shirtless and dirty. The towel around his hips was nearly useless, sagging low enough that his happy trail had become particularly prominent.
I was reminded of that time in his room when he'd given me my first orgasm and wondered if seeing me wrapped in a towel like that had left him with as little control as I did now, blatantly staring at him like I was. There was no restraining myself as my eyes visually devoured him, an act that caused my body to heat up over his enticing image. It was a rather stimulating view that I had of him. He was still slick with fresh water, flushed from the humidity.
As he noticed me ogling unabashedly, he smirked and sauntered over. I watched him move, entranced by the slight sway of his hips and quirky, long-legged swagger. Although they were already a bit parted, he kicked my legs aside to make room for himself. My hooded gaze traveled up the expanse of his skin before connecting with his own lowered eyes. The dark, heady expression on his face made my phone slip between my fingers and land on the bed next to my thigh.
You are by far the most tempting man that I will ever encounter, is what I thought to myself. And later in life when Craig was still all that there was for me, this would become fact.
"What?" He teased, tone like pheromones to my ears. A spark of interest coiled through my body. "Too much for you?" The shake of my head was lacking conviction.
Slowly, he reached for my hands and took them, placing them against his abdominals. My touch was firm because of him and his instruction. His flesh was as warm as it looked, smooth when he made me cradle his hips and curl my fingers around his waist.
"S-stop it," I said, contradicting both myself and him when I only removed a single hand to grab my phone. Stan was still repeating hello on the other line.
It was supposed to center myself when I leaned my forehead against Craig's stomach and inhaled deeply. But clearly I was terribly mixed up, because all I managed to do was fluster myself further. His fingers laced through my hair, palm a steady presence against the back of my head, and he held me right there. Right there. My mouth was so close to his dick it wasn't even funny.
"Can you just bring those clothes over?" I ground out, attempting to sound normal.
"Tweek?" Stan's voice was thin. "Are you okay?"
"Who are you talking to?" Craig asked.
"Was that Craig?" My eyes were closed tightly as I tried to categorize everyone and their questions. "Oh, come on, dude! I don't want to be on the phone with you if you two are getting nasty with each other."
"W-we're not! I swear we're not!" I cried.
"You were getting naked" —how ironic— "when you weren't answering me, weren't you? What the fuck, man."
Highly embarrassed, I groaned and pressed my cheek against Craig's stomach. "We're not d-doing anything!" I was too worked up physically to be able to handle the heat provided by his body and yet I didn't move. I let it soak into me. "His crotch is in my face and he's only wearing a towel! How else do you e-expect me to react?" Stan's sudden silence left me instantly humiliated because during the seconds where he didn't respond, I realized what I had just said in front of Craig.
Jesus fucking Christ. Seriously?
"So...you just want me to bring over some of Kenny's clothes, right?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "Preferably something in blue. Craig will look good in blue."
I hung up the phone and tipped my body backwards until I hit the bed where I shook my head regrettably. Embarrassment of this caliber just fucking sucked.
"That was cute of you," Craig crooned, crawling onto the mattress where he balanced on his hands and knees above me. I liked him on top of me; I like him baring down on me. He shouldn't have been doing it in a towel and I shouldn't have been imagining what he looked like without one, but he made me so weak in situations like these. It was impossible to ignore him as he eased onto his elbows and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck, stray wet locks leaving damp streaks across my cheek.
His breath puffed warm against my skin, each one causing my heart to thump erratically. I raised my hands to gingerly trace the sides of his torso, thoughts of paranoia and that we shouldn't be doing this coursing through my head. He placed a chaste kiss against my throat, and that one small touch made my pulse stutter. This isn't supposed to happen, I tried to think to myself. Not in my room. My mom was just down the stairs and I'd be too distracted to hear her if she came up.
But Craig's lips were traveling across my jawline, occasional kisses leading him to where it was that he wanted to go. I was distraught by my body's own submission as my neck arched to give him more room, permission even. My fingertips skimmed across his back where they clung to his shoulder blades and pulled him even closer. He settled himself lower to accommodate my unconscious request, tongue following the underside of my jaw before nipping at my chin. His mouth hovered above my parted lips and I was aware of them, unbearably so. Their presence was making me shift beneath him, anticipating our kiss.
Before I could brace myself, he flipped us over so that I was strewn haphazardly on top of him. The shape of his body became apparent to me as it molded to my own, the angle of his bones and stretch of lean muscle. There were soft ridges and hard edges to his figure and I could feel each of them through my one measly layer of clothing. He laid his hands over the backs of my thighs, just beneath my butt, and held me against him. I inhaled quickly, fingers tangled in his hair just as he hiked my body higher.
You're stupid, I berated myself, mouth unconcerned with this thought as I descended upon Craig. You're so fucking stupid. His lips were soft and plush, immediately ensnaring me and I couldn't stop myself from pushing down on him to force our proximity closer. He had to have been as impatient as me because his tongue was quick to slip between my lips. Heat bubbled inside of my stomach, matching the temperature of his mouth.
The roll of our tongues was slippery and evoked a familiar sensation that I only ever associated with Craig. My stomach clenched and my thighs shivered. He made my clothes feel bothersome despite the ever-present modesty of my character. I was making out with him in my room while my mom was home when I had already warned him and swore to myself that this would never happen. Stopping was just really fucking hard when he had to go and grab my ass, squeezing and grinding our hips together.
A satisfied hum left my mouth and slipped into our kiss, quickly erased by the tugging of his teeth against my bottom lip. I kneaded my fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged. He adjusted his grip on my rear, hand sliding beneath the curve of my butt. The push of his palm created a steady rocking motion. My pulse fluttered at the slight friction between my thighs as I let him control the movement of my body. Craig was good at this and knew what to do, seemed to know what I liked, or maybe it was just that everybody liked the same thing. Whatever it was, it felt good.
"Holy shit!" No. Please, God, no. "I never thought I'd live to see the day!" My head jolted in the direction of that voice where Thomas was laughing belligerently while thrusting against the door. Stan was standing next to him with a hand over his eyes. "Tweek was humping!"
I groaned and dropped my head against the bed, a burning in my cheeks, and tried to decide which was worse: Thomas's excitement or how that could've potentially been my mom.
Both made me want to cry.
Crawling off of Craig, I curled into a mortified heap beneath the covers and stayed there so I could finally die.
"Why are you hiding, Tweek?" Thomas asked. He must've jumped across the room because he landed on top of me like a fat boulder. "I'm not going to lie, dude. That was hot." Whimpering, he added, "Why don't you ever hump me like that?"
"Because you're not Craig Tucker," Stan answered.
"You guys!" I shrieked, throwing back the covers to reveal my frustration. Amused sniggering came from the right of me. I narrowed my eyes at the epitome of my crush who'd just finished buttoning his jeans. "Don't encourage them, y-you ass."
He gave me this knowing, teasing look. I was prepared to go even redder when he surprised me by lamenting and changed the subject. "These jeans are a little tight."
Not that that was any better.
Thomas giggled and said, "I thought Tweek would appreciate that particular pair." Well, I certainly did recognize them. "He always comments on Kenny's legs when he wears them, so I'm sure he'll like them on you even more."
"Oh?" Craig mused, smirking down at me. "How about it then?" He turned to face me and held his arms out at his sides.
The wash of the jeans was a dark blue denim, noticeably tighter than what he usually wore. They were slender and straight legged, accentuating the subtle curve of his long legs. When he turned around to give me a view of the back, I made a futile attempt to not look at the way his butt was being hugged.
I'd almost gotten some of that ass, too...
But then Thomas had gone and interrupted us. I'm sure Stan would've patiently waited it out downstairs, unlike my awful choice of a best friend. I wouldn't have ruined his moment, and honestly, I never have. There were plenty of times where I could've, but I hadn't.
"What's the verdict going to be?" The golden blonde wondered, pelvic thrusting me a few times to get my attention. I frowned and buried my face into my pillows. "And he's got a boner!"
Mother of God. "I don't have a b-boner, dude!"
My body jerked around until Thomas had effectively been knocked off. Reaching out, I grabbed for Craig and lugged him onto my bed. He sat down on the edge, half-hidden by the hoodie he was still pulling over his head.
"I'm g-going to clean your nails," I warned him, taking up a file in one hand, one of his own in the other. The grit gathered beneath them was becoming too much for me to disregard and I needed something to do to calm my anxiety.
"You haven't taken your medication yet, have you?" Craig asked. He'd detected the barely perceptible tremble in my fingers. I feigned an idle shake of my head. He watched me for a moment longer, a moment where I diligently focused on one particular nail, before asking, "Can I get it for you?"
Sighing, I murmured "No, I'll get it," and made to get off the bed.
Craig got up before me.
"But—" He left anyways, his tall figure in dark clothing disappearing out the door. I was partly defeated, partly perplexed. Thomas let out a muffled snicker. "What?" I snapped.
Stan was sitting beside him. The two were wearing identical expressions, something knowledgeable and delighted.
"He wants to take care of you," Thomas cooed.
Grumbling incoherently, I blushed and raked the pointed end of the file under one of my own nails.
"So he stayed the night, huh?" Stan inquired, quirking his brows at me. Did that mean he approved?
"Y-yeah. Last night was the second time."
I must not have sounded very elated about it because Thomas asked, "And that's—bitch—not the best thing to ever happen to you because?"
"Uh." I took a quick glance at the door to make sure Craig hadn't returned. "I found my mom working Craig this morning."
"Damn!" Stan whooped. "He's just getting it on with all the Tweaks, isn't he?"
Rolling my eyes, I continued with: "I think my mom knows what's g-going on. She didn't want him sleeping in my room, b-but I made him. When he woke up, I found him fixing her car." At that, a wide grin spread across Stan's lips. "H-he said he offered to do it himself but—what? Why are you smiling like that?"
"No reason," Stan sniggered. "Craig is just so cute." He is? That...hadn't been what I was expecting. "Nice dick, too. Totally flashed me and didn't give a shit."
"I told you!" Thomas exclaimed.
"I hate both of you s-so much." But I was laughing, so it wasn't like I was upset.
"I'm serious! If I didn't want to vomit every single time I looked at him, I'd put my mouth all over his penis," Stan assured me.
"Hey." I pointed at him in a pitiful imitation of threatening. "Save that shit for Kyle."
"So you do want Craig all to yourself," Thomas noted, tawny eyes glinting in what I mistook as teasing.
In actuality, he was being mischievous.
And I fell for it.
"Yes, I want Craig all t-to myself."
His eyes flickered toward my door, followed by Stan's.
It was obvious who had decided to show up.
"Did you s-seriously just do that to me?"
Thomas nodded his head, biting his lip to contain the majority of his laughter. At a loss of how else to react, I turned my head to face the man who I had just claimed as my property. He was leaning against the door cupping a selection of my pills and a mug of steaming coffee.
"I figured out how to work your coffee machine," he said, raising the full glass as proof.
"It's going to t-taste like shit if that was your first time," I forewarned.
"Nah," Craig disagreed, stepping further into my room. "Your mom helped me make it."
"Stop walking around with hickeys, goddamn it! I can't pretend s-she's clueless when you do that!"
He shrugged and sat down in front of my crossed legs. "Don't worry about it. She offered to buy us condoms."
My jaw dropped. "No, she didn't."
"And I was like" —at this point I was expecting something along the lines of 'does it look like I got the AIDS to you?' but instead what I got was— "thanks, bitch."
My eyes widened. "No, you didn't."
"She's coming up right now to talk to you. These two should probably leave." He jerked his finger toward Stan and Thomas. I could literally feel the terror splintering across my features, distinguishing itself against my shocked exterior. Craig cracked a grin. "I was just fucking with you, dude. Are you really gullible enough to believe I'd say that to your mom?"
"God—fuck!" One of my fists connected with his shoulder, the one that wasn't holding the coffee. "Don't d-do that!"
"I can still go back and make fun of you for wanting me all to yourself instead."
"Don't do that either!" I whimpered, extending my hands for the things he had.
Craig was giving them to me as Thomas asked, "You were told that we're all hanging out today, right?"
There was going to end up being a permanent scowl on my face. "No."
"Well, we are."
"Hookah tonight at seven-thirty. You two are going," Stan said.
Around a mouthful of pills, I looked at Craig and asked, "Then d-do you want to put in a shift at the coffeehouse with me? It'll p-pass the time." Anything to get him away from my mom for the day.