Hello, again! Who else was surprised as fuck by this update? Hahaha. I recently got a job and started college so my life has been pretty hectic lately. There's suddenly no time for anything. I wake up, go to school, go to work, try to find some time where I can sneak in food or homework, sleep, wake up body hurts brain exhausted but don't worry, the updates will continue (:
No review replies for this chapter but I do thank every single one of you who did and even those who are just reading!
Layer by layer art strips life bare.
— Robert Musil
Tweek's point of view:
Our location wasn't something that I was aware of, just that we were on a bed. I didn't think it was his, there would've been waves if it were. So maybe it was mine, and for whatever reason, I didn't mind if it was. My parents weren't on my mind. There was an apathetic confidence in my subconscious that reassured me they wouldn't be around.
I could feel his hands on my body, fingers sliding between my thighs. He was pressed against my back, encompassing me in his warmth. A delicious fever was flickering wildly beneath my skin. The rotation of his hips against my rear made his arousal obvious. My boxers were damp with sweat and precum, and I imagined that his were in the same condition.
My hips rolled backwards, brazenly rubbing against his crotch. I fisted the bedspread and shivered at the low-toned moan it evoked from his sweltering body. It was a sound that rumbled from his chest and vibrated against my back, a breath that connected with my skin and nearly made it melt. He started sucking on the erogenous spot just behind the shell of my ear, the place he'd targeted before, leaving a mark similar to the others haphazardly placed around the flesh of my throat.
He pushed the fabric of my boxers up my thighs and tangled our legs together, palms kneading and teasing the sensitive parts of my inner limbs. My back arched, causing my ass to shift firmly against the strain of his erection. The pressure encouraged him to thrust forward, immediately turning his heavy breathing into steady panting. I was turned on by the repetitious noise and mewled at the clench of my stomach as more heat was deposited into my gut. As though he knew and meant to overstimulate me, he slid his hand into my boxers and wrapped his fingers around the hard length inside.
A choked noise came from the back of my throat as he stroked my shaft, and I didn't know where to go, conflicted on jerking against his palm and backing up to feel how hard this was making him. I wanted to do everything and experience all of him but I didn't know how. This wasn't fair and his fingertips were grazing the tip of my erection and I could tell that his own was prodding at my behind and God I just wanted to feel him. His body had done this to me, enthralled and seduced me.
It was my own body, not my mind, that delegated how to react and I reached my hand around to grab his hip and pull him flush against me. The slight collision thrust me into his fingers just as I felt his arousal slip between my thighs. Moaning, he moved his arm to wrap it around my chest and ground his hips against my ass. He made the most attractive sounds and then made another as I matched one of his short thrusts. They were guttural and heady, drifting through my ears and enticing me further.
The more he rubbed against me, the tighter my grip on his hip became. I started to rhythmically tug him forward, mind consumed with the pattern and body with sensation. It was reoccurring enough that I lost myself in it, unable to think straight about anything besides how good this felt and how much my erection was throbbing, but even those thoughts were hazy.
His hand dropped down to my waist, fingers warm and constant. The thoughtless moment it took for me to realize what he was doing was nothing but pleasure and heightened feeling. Lewd sighs and strangled moans pilfered from my mouth. He was drawing my butt backwards in time with his thrusts, a motion that made my arousal swell. I had to bury my head against the pillows, sucking on my bottom lip as the pressure built.
"Craig," I panted, breathless and wet-eyed. This was becoming too much.
He groaned in response, muffling the gravelly noise against my hair.
We each had control over the other, pulling and tugging and grinding. There wasn't enough breath in my lungs to stave off the lightheadedness in my brain, and there was something about it that made everything feel just that much better.
"Craig—Craig." Rationality dwindled away as I began moaning his name profusely, my voice a shameless whimper. The rotation of my hips was needy and the heat in my crotch felt like it wanted to explode.
On the cusp of a full body spasm, my conscious flung me back to reality and my eyes flew open just as my orgasm erupted a cacophony of white-hot sensations inside of me. My eyes snapped shut; I arched and rolled against my bed with the imaginary feeling of Craig behind me and his dick pressed between my cheeks. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't even make a sound, entire body tense with immediate pleasure.
I was huffing into my pillows, fingers wound tightly through my sheets as that rapturous burst of physical ecstasy simmered down to mindless thoughts and a pleasant tingling. It was a boneless feeling, the pulse in my veins like a massage to my nerve endings. There was a sense of relief from just being able to lay there and breathe.
The knowledge of what I'd just done didn't take long to resurface. Essentially I'd just molested my mattress. Craig had been gone for a single day and I was already humping my bed to thoughts of him. If he ever found out, he was going to be stoked that I'd finally had him in my fantasies. Which has never happened before. I have never orgasmed in my bedroom or my fucking house in general. My only sexual experiences were what I've done with Craig.
How had I gone from timidly approaching his penis to humping my bed because in my dream the bed had been him?
"Shit," I hissed, covering my face with my hands as I wondered how many of those noises I had actually made. Way to go, fuckass. "This sucks!" I couldn't even feel dirty, too satisfied to go beyond mild embarrassment and peeved fury. "This fucking sucks!"
In a fit of anger, I grabbed my phone and dialed Thomas's number. I had no idea what I planned on doing, but I needed to do something besides lay there in my own puddle of semen. Holding the phone between my shoulder and ear, I stripped off my boxers and gathered it up with all of my sheets. I didn't even care if my parents caught me walking around the house naked. All I wanted was to wash off the evidence.
After a few annoying rings and only once I was out the door, Thomas picked up. "Bitch—fuck—dick—hello?" He didn't like it when I woke him up for midnight calls. "I thought we were over this," he grumbled. "You stopped calling me every time you dreamed about your own ugly ass years ago."
"That's not what I'm t-talking about." Not really. I winced. Technically he'd been right.
I padded softly down the stairs and directly into the laundry room.
"What is it then?"
Jesus fucking Christ. I really hadn't planned on explaining the situation to him. "Forget about it. Forget I called."
Before I could hang up, he cried, "Dude! You did not wake me up for buttfuck nothing."
Funny he should say buttfuck. I threw my clothes into the washer and turned the dial to the right setting, adding soap and shutting the lid. Because I'd almost just buttfucked my fucking bed.
As I headed back up to my room, I said, "Nothing. It's embarrassing."
"You're always embarrassing yourself." I glowered at his statement and shut my door behind me. "What's so great about it this time?"
"Can I just h-hang up?" My rage was beginning to douse and humiliation was taking its place. I started toward my bathroom to maybe wash off some of my embarrassment.
Thomas scoffed. "Fuck no."
"Fuck—fine. Just hold on." I set my phone down on the sink and turned my shower on, switching it to pour hot water. Stepping under the spray with a washcloth, I patted myself down while distracting myself by thinking about how strange it was to look at my crotch and now know exactly what it was capable of. What I needed to figure out, though, was how to phrase this wet dream to the golden blonde. I wasn't good at talking sex, and frankly, I'd never really had to.
Once a small layer of steam had built up inside the bathroom, mirror slightly fogged, I shut off the water, stepped out and wrapped a towel around my waist. I had to dry off my hand, ear, and push my hair aside until I was positive I wouldn't water damage my phone before picking it back up again.
"Thomas?" He was there. I could hear him clicking around on what I figured was his computer.
"Did you just take a shower?" He asked.
"Hmm." Me and my blush flopped down onto my bed together. "I'm just going to wing it with this one, but you didn't happen to get a boner because of talking to me, did you?"
His half exaggeration, half joke wasn't helping. "...N-Not quite."
"Oh?" Beginning to understand the source of my call, he sounded significantly more chipper. "What happened then?"
"You k-know that I'm not going to s-say it," I snapped.
He giggled at my flustered retort. "Okay, then. I'll make my guess as juicy as I possibly can." Holy fucking shit, please stop doing this to me. "You were in the middle of fingering yourself when Craig sent you a sexy nude and you creamed all over your phone so you—"
"Thomas!" I slapped a hand across my mouth at the volume of my scream and hoped any previous noises hadn't been as loud. My best friend was laughing hysterically on the other line. "Damn it, Thomas. This isn't funny. I practically just had sex with my bed! In my sleep, dude!"
There was the quick beat of silence before his laughter came hurtling back. "Awh, dude!" No, no, no. What are you doing? "You had a wet dream about Craig? Finally! Oh my God, this is just the sweetest thing. I am so proud of you right now! How was it? Was it awesome?"
I... was incredulous. "No, it wasn't fucking awesome!" But really it was.
"Come on, man! I tell you about—cunt—my wet dreams all the time!"
Seriously? That was his argument? "Thomas."
"Okay. Whatever," he grumbled, noting the seriousness of my tone. "Don't entreat me to your first ever Craig Tucker fantasy." I'm not, I wanted to say. "So what's the problem?"
"Whoa there, buddy. Isn't Craig going to be upset" —Oh shit, I totally knew it. Oh God, I'm gross and dirty— "if he finds out you're calling my name now?"
"What?" He exclaimed, exasperated.
Sighing haggardly, I rolled over onto my back and threw an arm across my eyes. "I—I took advantage of him in my dreams, dude. What the hell is wrong with me?"
"Uh, nothing." I really hoped he knew that I was glaring at him houses and streets and phone calls away. "Wet dreams happen all the time to everyone."
He cut me off saying, "No." My brow furrowed. "And I can guarantee he's had some exceptional wet dreams about you seeing as he's far less naive than you."
My heart shuddered inside my chest. "N-No, he hasn't." But what if he has? What if he's orgasmed in the same bed we slept together in to thoughts of me?
"You don't think so?" I shook my head though nobody was around to see it. Not that I did either, really. It was more reflexive than anything because I was still focused on make-believe images of Craig touching himself in his bedroom. "I guess I'll just have to bring it up the next time I see him then."
For that, I hung up on him. He would laugh to himself about it until he passed out, which was unfortunate, because he was being dead serious. I'd have to keep him and my crush away from each other to ward off any conversation pertaining to wet dreams. I certainly didn't want it getting around that I'd had one, especially not to Craig and not that it was about him.
It happened on its own, the next text in which I sent to him. He was probably knocked out by now.
I fell back asleep without ever getting an answer.
Chapter fifty-four teaser: If something were wrong, they'd let you know.