[FANFIC] Just a Word - Craig/Tweek
Title: Just a Word
Author: ienvy
Fandom: South Park
Pairing: Craig/Tweek
Rating: NC-17
Summary: #94 Lick The Table
Warnings: This story contains graphic material! By clicking the below link you are verifying that you are of legal age to be viewing graphic content.
Notes: Written for xenopuff
Also, this being the third fic centering around Craig since I started this challenge, I decided to take it down a different road...
Pretty little bottles, all lined up in a row, smiled mockingly at Tweek from the inside of his medicine cabinet. Rows upon rows of them watched him, all lined up so perfectly that their proud labels stuck out at him, introducing themselves. Some prescribed to him. Some not. Some with long, fancy names, others with the quick scribble from a man with sticky fingers and nervous eyes. Some filled with pills, some with powder, some with liquid, some with little tablets that could be chewed. Some came as colorful as they made him feel, others came in white, sterile shapes that were really of no interest. But all were loved.
The boy's fingers, sporadically twitching and picking at the corners of his nails when they weren't active, trailed over the bottommost shelf, hazel eyes clouding over slowly with the dull desire, dull need. He wasn't even sure how to classify that pounding feeling in his chest anymore, other than with want. The bottles have changed him, the colors have made him so much more different than what he had started out as. He doesn't know if he likes it or not yet, but he does know that he needs it, plain and simple, and will not be able to rest without it.
From inside the small pane of reflective glass, Tweek catches a glimpse of Craig as he shuffles across the cooling bathroom tiles, a look that would have been irritated if anyone else had seen it. Not to Tweek though, he knew that look better than any of them. He knew Craig better than any of them could ever hope to, as well. His fingers falter where they had once been hovering, failing to grip onto one of the pill bottles as Craig situates himself behind Tweek.
He says nothing, just stares at Tweek through the mirror, seeing Tweek staring at him right back. It takes only a moment for the smaller blonde to cave and he's shuddering, letting out a gentle sob as he let's his body go beneath him. And Craig is there catching him with only a split second of notice, supporting the other enough so that he can stand without falling and smashing his head open.
With only a look, he stops me. Tweek wonders to himself as he places his hands onto the sink, bracing himself at an angle so that his back was curved, hips jutting outward slightly. What could he do, then, Tweek's neck curved upward as Craig's fingers, calming, relaxing, reassuring, slipped across his throat slowly, almost tauntingly. With more than just a word? Or a touch?
Tweek knows it won't happen though. It has been years since Craig last spoke, no one has really heard from him since. And while the lack of verbal communication strikes a chord deep inside of Tweek, he never comments on it. He learned how to read Craig's face, no matter how still it often was, and he learned how to adapt to any situation that the two were thrown into together.
A moan catches and lodges itself within Tweek's throat and his body further curves, further arches, so that Craig's body can more properly fill in the negative space made by the chasm between their bodies. Molding together, they feel perfect, they feel right. They take on one another's misfortunes, one another's problems and baggage and in exchange, receive unconditional love. Craig doesn't question Tweek. Tweek doesn't question Craig.
Never once had Craig ever gripped onto Tweek's wrist as he was reaching for the medicine cabinet. Never once had Tweek ordered Craig to forget his traumatic past. Never once had they ever made the other uncomfortable.
Another moan raising up from his lips, Tweek shudders at the feel of a fleshy, wet organ dragging itself slowly across Tweek's ear.
With a desperate sigh, the blonde tips his already taut neck to one side, exposing the fleshy surface, inviting, practically begging, for Craig to use it as his playground. Never once does Craig make a noise but in that suspended moment, with their bodies arched so beautifully together and with that tongue dragging so slowly across his ear lobe, Tweek can imagine he hears the unspoken words, can imagine the guttural groans in his ear, the sorts of sounds that would have shaken him to his core.
But, pushing Tweek hard against the smooth porcelain sink, Craig remains as silent as always, the only sounds that of the rhythmatic slaps of flesh against flesh and Tweek's cries of absolute pleasure. And Craig's tongue trails slow over his ear, teeth nipping gently at his lobe, and Tweek can imagine all he wants, despite knowing Craig is forever mute.
'You're beautiful, Tweek.' His breath coasts along Tweek's nape and the tongue pauses just to run across the smooth, pale flesh. 'And you're all mine.' His hand is diving down, gripping the other's erection, stroking it slow, loving. 'All mine.' His teeth sink into Tweek's neck, fingers tightening around the arousal for further emphasis.
"Nngh, god, yes..." Tweek breathes out heavily, his panting noises sticking in his throat as Craig's body falls against his, perfectly molding over it. His fingers tighten around the sink, another moan riding out on the edge of his loud gasps.
Craig's hips are arched at that all too perfect angle he had found ages ago, the one that strokes the inside of Tweek in a manner so splendid that each roll of his hips brings a loud, crying whimper of a moan held back. Tweek by this point, is always reduced to a trembling, hot mess and tonight is no different. Craig muses as he watches the other, Tweek's mouth quivering, held open in a constant state of climax. His face is indented where he had thought it would have been a good idea to lean his cheek against the sink. His face and body is flushed and he's gasping loudly, one hand moving down to join Craig's, stroking both himself and the other male's fingers in an appreciative manner.
They move together, hips rolling in time, hands fondling as if they were one entity. Tweek is screaming, partically, as Craig's hips move faster and the dark-haired male's lips move to fall against his lover's lithe body, kissing and licking wherever he can touch. Enraptured in one another's orgasm, they fall to the ground, gasping, panting, stroking, basking.
'You know I love you, right?'
Tweek's eye cracked open briefly to stare at Craig, blinking away the momentary confusion, staring up at his friend from the bathroom floor. Craig moves as if in jello, slow, his image shaking out of place and multiplying with every step. He's reaching down to help Tweek up, those deep colbalt eyes expressing nothing as he lifts the other to his feet.
Scattered about the bathroom floor are pills, all sorts of them, all meant to give Tweek the peace of mind he so wantonly desired. Swallowing, he glances away from Craig, feeling embarrassd that the other found him like this, embarrassed because he wonders if Craig can read minds and if he knows how hard Tweek is at that very moment.
The darker male's gaze remians locked on Tweek for a moment longer before he makes an action that indicates a sigh and shakes his head.
'You have to behave yourself.' The look says as he steps forward, lightly cupping the blonde's face. 'You're going to kill yourself one of these days.'
Tweek blinks away the ashamed tears that are rising quickly to slide down his pale face, trying not to bring their gases together.
'You'll get through this.' He promises, brow flicking down before he tips Tweek's chin up and drags their lips to slowly connect. His tongue flicks out and drifts across Tweek's lower lip and Tweek swears his heart might have stopped. 'I want you.'
And no matter how many times Tweek blinks, this illusion remains. Maybe there was hope yet.
Author: ienvy
Fandom: South Park
Pairing: Craig/Tweek
Rating: NC-17
Summary: #94 Lick The Table
Warnings: This story contains graphic material! By clicking the below link you are verifying that you are of legal age to be viewing graphic content.
Notes: Written for xenopuff
Also, this being the third fic centering around Craig since I started this challenge, I decided to take it down a different road...
Pretty little bottles, all lined up in a row, smiled mockingly at Tweek from the inside of his medicine cabinet. Rows upon rows of them watched him, all lined up so perfectly that their proud labels stuck out at him, introducing themselves. Some prescribed to him. Some not. Some with long, fancy names, others with the quick scribble from a man with sticky fingers and nervous eyes. Some filled with pills, some with powder, some with liquid, some with little tablets that could be chewed. Some came as colorful as they made him feel, others came in white, sterile shapes that were really of no interest. But all were loved.
The boy's fingers, sporadically twitching and picking at the corners of his nails when they weren't active, trailed over the bottommost shelf, hazel eyes clouding over slowly with the dull desire, dull need. He wasn't even sure how to classify that pounding feeling in his chest anymore, other than with want. The bottles have changed him, the colors have made him so much more different than what he had started out as. He doesn't know if he likes it or not yet, but he does know that he needs it, plain and simple, and will not be able to rest without it.
From inside the small pane of reflective glass, Tweek catches a glimpse of Craig as he shuffles across the cooling bathroom tiles, a look that would have been irritated if anyone else had seen it. Not to Tweek though, he knew that look better than any of them. He knew Craig better than any of them could ever hope to, as well. His fingers falter where they had once been hovering, failing to grip onto one of the pill bottles as Craig situates himself behind Tweek.
He says nothing, just stares at Tweek through the mirror, seeing Tweek staring at him right back. It takes only a moment for the smaller blonde to cave and he's shuddering, letting out a gentle sob as he let's his body go beneath him. And Craig is there catching him with only a split second of notice, supporting the other enough so that he can stand without falling and smashing his head open.
With only a look, he stops me. Tweek wonders to himself as he places his hands onto the sink, bracing himself at an angle so that his back was curved, hips jutting outward slightly. What could he do, then, Tweek's neck curved upward as Craig's fingers, calming, relaxing, reassuring, slipped across his throat slowly, almost tauntingly. With more than just a word? Or a touch?
Tweek knows it won't happen though. It has been years since Craig last spoke, no one has really heard from him since. And while the lack of verbal communication strikes a chord deep inside of Tweek, he never comments on it. He learned how to read Craig's face, no matter how still it often was, and he learned how to adapt to any situation that the two were thrown into together.
A moan catches and lodges itself within Tweek's throat and his body further curves, further arches, so that Craig's body can more properly fill in the negative space made by the chasm between their bodies. Molding together, they feel perfect, they feel right. They take on one another's misfortunes, one another's problems and baggage and in exchange, receive unconditional love. Craig doesn't question Tweek. Tweek doesn't question Craig.
Never once had Craig ever gripped onto Tweek's wrist as he was reaching for the medicine cabinet. Never once had Tweek ordered Craig to forget his traumatic past. Never once had they ever made the other uncomfortable.
Another moan raising up from his lips, Tweek shudders at the feel of a fleshy, wet organ dragging itself slowly across Tweek's ear.
With a desperate sigh, the blonde tips his already taut neck to one side, exposing the fleshy surface, inviting, practically begging, for Craig to use it as his playground. Never once does Craig make a noise but in that suspended moment, with their bodies arched so beautifully together and with that tongue dragging so slowly across his ear lobe, Tweek can imagine he hears the unspoken words, can imagine the guttural groans in his ear, the sorts of sounds that would have shaken him to his core.
But, pushing Tweek hard against the smooth porcelain sink, Craig remains as silent as always, the only sounds that of the rhythmatic slaps of flesh against flesh and Tweek's cries of absolute pleasure. And Craig's tongue trails slow over his ear, teeth nipping gently at his lobe, and Tweek can imagine all he wants, despite knowing Craig is forever mute.
'You're beautiful, Tweek.' His breath coasts along Tweek's nape and the tongue pauses just to run across the smooth, pale flesh. 'And you're all mine.' His hand is diving down, gripping the other's erection, stroking it slow, loving. 'All mine.' His teeth sink into Tweek's neck, fingers tightening around the arousal for further emphasis.
"Nngh, god, yes..." Tweek breathes out heavily, his panting noises sticking in his throat as Craig's body falls against his, perfectly molding over it. His fingers tighten around the sink, another moan riding out on the edge of his loud gasps.
Craig's hips are arched at that all too perfect angle he had found ages ago, the one that strokes the inside of Tweek in a manner so splendid that each roll of his hips brings a loud, crying whimper of a moan held back. Tweek by this point, is always reduced to a trembling, hot mess and tonight is no different. Craig muses as he watches the other, Tweek's mouth quivering, held open in a constant state of climax. His face is indented where he had thought it would have been a good idea to lean his cheek against the sink. His face and body is flushed and he's gasping loudly, one hand moving down to join Craig's, stroking both himself and the other male's fingers in an appreciative manner.
They move together, hips rolling in time, hands fondling as if they were one entity. Tweek is screaming, partically, as Craig's hips move faster and the dark-haired male's lips move to fall against his lover's lithe body, kissing and licking wherever he can touch. Enraptured in one another's orgasm, they fall to the ground, gasping, panting, stroking, basking.
'You know I love you, right?'
Tweek's eye cracked open briefly to stare at Craig, blinking away the momentary confusion, staring up at his friend from the bathroom floor. Craig moves as if in jello, slow, his image shaking out of place and multiplying with every step. He's reaching down to help Tweek up, those deep colbalt eyes expressing nothing as he lifts the other to his feet.
Scattered about the bathroom floor are pills, all sorts of them, all meant to give Tweek the peace of mind he so wantonly desired. Swallowing, he glances away from Craig, feeling embarrassd that the other found him like this, embarrassed because he wonders if Craig can read minds and if he knows how hard Tweek is at that very moment.
The darker male's gaze remians locked on Tweek for a moment longer before he makes an action that indicates a sigh and shakes his head.
'You have to behave yourself.' The look says as he steps forward, lightly cupping the blonde's face. 'You're going to kill yourself one of these days.'
Tweek blinks away the ashamed tears that are rising quickly to slide down his pale face, trying not to bring their gases together.
'You'll get through this.' He promises, brow flicking down before he tips Tweek's chin up and drags their lips to slowly connect. His tongue flicks out and drifts across Tweek's lower lip and Tweek swears his heart might have stopped. 'I want you.'
And no matter how many times Tweek blinks, this illusion remains. Maybe there was hope yet.