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The persistent screeching of summer cicadas seeped through the windows, barely cracked open in an unsuccessful attempt to allow passing breezes into the house. Instead of brisk, cooling winds, sunlight poured through the gaps, bright and agonizingly warm.
"Aghhh!- This is hell," The raspy voice grumbles in a breathless pant. Sweltering heat has stolen the air from his lungs, the sweat from his pores, and his shirt which now lies in a heap of fabric on the floor. The droning buzz of a fan mingled with the screaming choir of cicadas and unbearably high temperature to create hell on Earth. To top off the torturous atmosphere, the air conditioning had decided it was time for Tweek to pay off all of humanity's sins and break, leaving him to combat the summer heat unarmed. Tweek swipes a thumb over his throbbing skull, already damp with sweat.
He leans himself against the kitchen counter, trembling hand clutched around the handle of a simple glass mug, filled with pure espresso. Hot. No milk. No sugar. Just straight espresso like he's gone insane, and he just might with this damn weather. "We're gonna die of heatstroke!"
"Tweek, you're not gonna die of heatstroke." The blonde's gaze flickers towards the source of the reassurance, told in a monotone voice, bringing the mug to his lips for a brief moment before shooting back.
"You don't know that!" He barked, knowing his scratchy tone is probably grating against Craig's ears but too overheated to care.
The man sprawled out on the couch cranes his neck slightly to lock eyes. His signature blue hat is long gone, a sign of just how harrowing this heat is. "Maybe you shouldn't drink coffee," He suggested, his flat voice breathy, narrow eyes blinking up at the twitchy blonde and maybe lingering for a moment too long on his bare, fit torso.
Tweek's calloused and twitchy fingers defensively clench around the glass in his hands. "I need coffee."
"You don't need coffee." Craig pushed back the locks of black hair sticking to his forehead, a heavy sigh leaving his chest. "Fuck," He huffed, his usually indifferent attitude clearly pestered by the warmth. His head tipped back and his eyes had fallen shut, chest faintly heaving under his shirt, lips parted as he steadied his now heavier breaths. Tweek thickly swallowed the saliva that had pooled under his tongue. Seeing the subtle signs of his discomfort emphasized by sunlight, he couldn't help but ogle.
"Wah! Are you ok?" He quickly reels in his focus before his mind can wander. "Are you lightheaded?"
Craig assures the concerned and dramatic figure, dismissively waving his hand. "I'm fine, honey." His calm tone starkly contrasts the frantic questioning. "Can you get me a Monster?"
"Energy drinks are bad for you," He scolds and Craig can't help but roll his eyes at the overprotective words.
"So is copious amounts of hot coffee," Craig counters before adding: "In summer."
Tweek's jaw tenses and he grunts in defeat, reluctantly setting his mug down. "Ergh-" He pushes off the kitchen counter, drags himself towards the refrigerator, and appreciatively sighs at the chilling air it emits when opened. The metal can is numbingly cold against his palm, a disparity from the heat the rest of his body faces and Tweek tosses it towards Craig before it starts to feel like needles in his hand. He calmly shuts the fridge, coffee back in his hands as he sinks down on the couch next to him. Tweek slumps back in the cushions with a lengthy exhale, watching Craig crack open the can, legs swung over the coffee table.
"When- agh- when's the maintenance guy coming again?" He doesn't know how much longer he can bear this, eyes locked onto the leisurely spinning blades of the ceiling fan that doesn't help at all.
Craig tilts his chin up as he takes a sip. "He should come Sunday," He answers, bringing the cold metal to his lips for the second time.
Tweek blinks, suddenly very captivated by his side profile, gaze fixed keenly on his throat working and lips moving subtly with each swallow. It takes a moment for him to realize he hadn't even processed a word he'd said. "Uh huh." He nodded slowly. A drop of soda began to dribble down Craig's chin and he darted his tongue out to catch it, casually licking his bottom lip, the simple gesture seeming almost tantalizing. Tweek's breath hitched. Every minor detail drives him closer towards insanity, wandering eyes tracing the sliver of skin below his navel, exposed by his slightly hiked up shirt and low riding shorts.
"Honey." The voice pierces through his thoughts, snapping him out of his momentary trance. He pries his gaze away from his lower body to meet his eyes. "You got that?"
Tweek blinked slowly, taking a moment to process the fact Craig was just speaking. "Agh!- What?"
Craig sighs and leans over to set his can on the coffee table. "I said you might need to call him though,"
"Right," Tweek breathed out before his mouth could start to water, drinking in the sight of his thighs slightly separating as he sank back into his seat. A sudden jolt ripples through his body, familiar, yet unlike his habitual twitches. His chest had tightened, a shuddering breath caught at the back of his dried throat. A faint thudding sound rang in his ears that he soon realized was his own quickening pulse. God, it had to be the warmth, that's what was driving him crazy. Everything's hot when the weather is, including Craig— Especially Craig and his stupid, smooth lips and quiet pants and breathier voice that made heat rush towards the space between his thighs. His stomach stirred, not with discomfort or his usual anxiety, but with a primal, urgent desire. The harsh weather had grown overwhelming with his shameful arousal, and Tweek knows he can't ignore it when he's tenting in the fabric of his sweats.
"Shit," He blurts out. He doesn't know what he's cursing— the weather, his mind, Craig's oblivious teases, but whatever it is he resents it.
Craig steals a quick glance, a brow arched at the sudden expletive. "Babe?" He casts an expectant look.
Tweek shifts in his seat, quickly and not so subtly adjusting himself, though his attempts at hiding his obvious arousal prove to be futile. "Gah!- I'm fine," He sputters, responding to a question that hadn't even been asked yet.
"No you're not." Craig doesn't even have to examine him to find that out, and his suspicions are proved correct when his eyes lock with the painfully glaring evidence, straining against the fabric of his briefs, standing proudly and unmistakably hard in his pants. "Clearly," He huffs bluntly, a hint of barely noticeable pride in his still tone, perhaps at the fact of Tweek getting so riled up by something as simple as his presence.
Tweek knows he's caught now, eyes wide and shameful. "Argh! I'm so sorry, ugh I'm such a fucking creep-" He adjusts the front of his now tight sweatpants before standing to walk off. "Just forget it- You don't have to do anything, I'll just-"
Bony fingers closed around his wrist and he halted, glancing over his shoulder, exchanging unspoken dialogue with Craig as their eyes met. "Honey, let me help."
A breath left through Tweek's nose, hesitant and thoughtful. "I don't want to force you, Craig."
"You don't have to force me." His fingertips deliberately skimmed his firm chest.
"Are you sure about this?" Tweek's question was wordlessly answered when his fingertips reached the waistband of his sweats, dipping below it.
He interlocked their lips, a low hum vibrating against Craig's when his hand slid across Tweek's shaft, already pulsing with hot desire. "Shit, dude," Craig murmured into his mouth.
"What?" Tweek pecked gently at his lower lip before pulling back, keeping their foreheads pressed together.
"Is this from just looking at me?" His monotone voice carried a tad bit too much amusement, sounding too proud of himself, but Tweek couldn't bring himself to care with his dick between his fingers. Craig's hand started to pump, sliding from the sensitive head to the base.
Tweek let out a shaky, lengthy sigh, teeth tightly clenched. "Ugh, that makes me sound creepy." Craig wasn't entirely wrong, it basically was just from looking at him. He slipped his fingers up the hem of his shirt, digits moving aimlessly over his torso, needing to feel the warm flesh of Craig's body against his palm, to grab it, to firmly remind himself of what was his. Tweek traced the prominent curve of his lower stomach, touch gliding up his hair dusted midriff, gentle and reverent.
"You're not creepy." Craig's free hand cupped his cheek as he stroked him slowly, earning a low groan which he pressed into Craig's lips. Tweek gave a gentle squeeze to his thigh, to which other quickly responded by spreading his legs, allowing him to step between them. And he did, hoisting his legs up around his waist as Craig removed his hand. Tweek grunted at the loss but remained latched to his mouth, now feverishly mashing their hips together, clothed cock throbbing insistently against his bottom. The heat between their bodies had become near unbearable and was only heightened by the unforgiving weather of July. Breath left Tweek in short pants, head pounding, beads of sweat trickling down his reddened cheeks as if he'd ran a marathon. But nothing else mattered right now. Only the need to have Craig shaking under him.
"Lube," He panted out as he rocked his hips against his, seeking friction to ease his aching groin.
Craig's legs closed around him. "We ran out."
Tweek paused a moment before letting out a quiet, frustrated groan at the news. "Seriously?" He couldn't stop himself from grumbling impatiently.
"You know I'm fine with spit," He reassured, thumb gliding over his cheek bone, breath over his lips.
Tweek hesitantly sighed. "I just don't want to hurt you. Agh, what if-"
"You're not gonna hurt me." Craig skimmed kisses over the side of his face, reaching just above his chin. "You never do." Tweek didn't have it in him to protest, especially not when he's this horny, his fiancé practically spread out and waiting beneath him. He felt up his chest, fingers splaying out over his pecs as his the base of his palm grazed over his sensitive nub. Craig's nipple quickly hardened against his hand, a trembling breath pulled from his lips, desperate and almost loud enough to be a whine. Tweek's teeth made gentle contact with his sweat damp neck.
"You taste salty," He murmured.
Craig didn't know whether to laugh or roll his eyes, so instead playfully nudged him in the shoulder. "No shit."
Tweek laughed and attacked his neck again, peppering firm, tender kisses across the skin. He hastily pried the other's shorts off his legs before kneeling between them, keeping them apart as his lips now moved on his inner thighs. Nibbling kisses were trailed up his sensitive skin, teeth leaving subtle bite marks in their wake.
Craig slowly reached a hand down to weave fingers through his hair. "What are you doing?" He panted, looking down at him with half lidded eyes.
"Prepping you," Tweek answered vaguely.
Craig opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a gasp when a wet warmth slid across his entrance, soft and nimble. He knew what it was. "You don't have to-"
"Do you want me to stop?" Craig met Tweek's eyes, wide, anticipant, and cloudy. His voice had smoothened, lowered into a soothing tone as he delicately traced patterns against his thigh. Craig couldn't refuse that.
"Fuck no," He exhaled shakily. Tweek grinned, giving a slow, deliberate lick to his hole, savoring every detail of his shuddering reaction. His tongue probed and teased the entrance, circling the tight ring of muscle before slipping inside. He knew he had done right when Craig groaned, fingers flexing in his hair, hips bucking down against his face. Tweek's jaw slacked so his tongue could reach deeper, swirling back and forth as he teased his hole relentlessly. He reveled in the trembling of Craig's legs on either side of his head and his weak attempts to clench around the slick organ. Every whine that failed to be stifled, every shake or jolt, every desperate tug on his hair had him leaking into his briefs. He didn't know how much longer he could take it. Tweek gave a few more deft flicks of his tongue before pulling back, leisurely rising to his feet to admire the sight beneath him. He pressed two digits to his slick, already relaxed hole, fingertips poking inside. Craig gave a brief moan in encouragement, allowing his fingers to delve deeper. The wet walls twitched and tightened around the probing digits until they were fully encased in his warmth. Tweek stretched him patiently, carefully, knuckles dragging along his prostate with every calculated stroke of his fingers. Craig let out a breathy swear that tapered off into a low, hoarse moan.
The pads of Tweek's fingers persistently massaged his prostate. "Is that good, Craig?"
Tweek's steady voice was grounding from the mind numbing, unrelenting stimulation that had Craig's body quivering already. "Yes- yeah, I'm ready," He managed to breathe out.
Tweek withdrew his hand, sliding his briefs down his thighs and allowing them to fall around his knees. Saliva which had welled on the crook of his tongue was spit into an open palm, a groan halted behind clenched teeth as he slowly pumped his dick, coating it in a wet mixture of drool and precum that dribbled from his slit. He held the base of the organ with slender fingers, guiding it to his prepped hole whilst silently praying the spit would be enough. Tweek's eyes scanned the other for confirmation, though his expression was already enough: face reddened and perspiring, eyes anticipant and heavy lidded. His legs invitingly parted and Tweek knew he couldn't wait anymore, cock cautiously breaching his tight warmth. Craig's rim stretched comfortably around the tip, welcoming every inch with a slight contraction, hole swallowing him greedily as he pressed inside. A mutual, trembling sigh was dragged from both their chests as he bottomed out.
Tweek halted fully, hips flush against the soft flesh of his bottom. "Craig?" He huffed while swiping a lock of hair from his face to examine him more thoroughly. Their eyes met, each instantly lost in the other's, studying but not judging.
Craig drew in a shaky, extended breath. "You can move,"
Tweek nodded. He was always patient, always unhurried, always careful no matter how unbearable the urge for more friction was. His hands found their way to Craig's sides, tracing calming circles over his ribs as he gave a tentative roll of his hips. Craig responded eagerly to the movement, a strangled, shameless cry ripped from his throat. Tweek took the sound as an invitation, hips finding a slow and steady tempo. The wet walls enveloped him with ease, as if his body craved him, needed him. As if Craig was made for him. Tweek pressed their chests close and practically melted against the other, cradling him in his arms like he was something fragile, something to be cherished. And he was. Those sharp dark eyes now rolling into the back of his head, his bated breath between uncharacteristically needy whimpers, his usually blank expression twisted into one of desperation. He was the only one that ever got to see him this beautifully vulnerable, naked and shivering. It was endearing. Craig Tucker, a man once so reserved, opening himself up to him in more ways than one.
The gentle slap of flesh against sweat slicked skin echoed around them, mingling with gasps and pathetic mewls. Each thrust was deep, deliberate, and careful, the sluggish pace maddening yet perfect at the same time. Tweek's damp forehead rested against his shoulder as he murmured breathless praise into his neck. His head is spinning, dizzying pleasure shooting through his veins and rendering it impossible to hold back his own needy moans. The summer weather in addition to the proximity of their bodies makes it hard to breathe, but the only heat he cares about right now is the one wrapped around his dick, somehow clenching at all the right times. Everything is burning in the best way possible.
"Faster." The simple, whimpered plea rattles in Tweek's brain and he almost shivers.
He wants to oblige immediately, but his conscious, his not yet melted with pleasure part of his brain stops him. "Are you sure?" Tweek worries. He always does. Even in times like these, even when they both know Craig can take it. The question is almost taunting in a way, though unintentional, and paired with his practically languid thrusts, Craig couldn't bite back the begging that shamelessly poured from his lips.
"Please- fuck, please, Tweek." He croaked and Tweek's knees near buckled at the sound of his broken voice. "I'll be fine, just-"
"Ok," He huffed. He didn't need to be told twice. Tweek widened his stance, dull fingernails pressed into his soft hips, feet planted firmly on the ground as he rammed into him with maybe a bit more force than he would've liked. Craig's reaction was anything but one of resistance though, a shrill moan torn from his throat breaking off into a shuddering gasp. Tweek squeezed his sides, more for leverage than anything else, but the firm grip had Craig's hands trembling against his back. It kept him in place too, not only preventing his body from sliding up the couch, but allowing Tweek to drive himself deeper, to smack their hips together in a quick, assertive cadence. He ignored his own ragged huffs, too fixed on the noises forced from Craig's mouth with each thrust. A poorly stifled whine, his voice cracking on his unintelligible murmurs, strings of mindless, desperate curses. Tweek straightened, pulling back just barely to take in the sight. His gaze flickered between his expression: eyes unfocused and struggling to stay open, brows knitted tightly but not angrily, and the site at where their bodies had connected— hot, slick.
God, he's beautiful. Tweek pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, a rough groan vibrating against his sweaty skin, strained and brash. He bucked his hips, his rhythm rapid, relentless and intense, yet at the same time calculated, careful, and tender. Tweek pushed through the wobble in his own legs, driven by the familiar warmth coiling in his lower stomach.
"You're gorgeous," He murmured admiringly before his words could slip between breathless moans and grunts. "Fucking amazing, Craig." The statement came out in a tense groan, but Craig's mind was already reeling at being praised so simply.
"Fuck," He swore, voice starting as a drawn out keen and dying out into a hiss, only slightly audible under the rhythmic, repetitive smack of flesh against flesh.
Tweek pressed a grin into his shoulder, clearly pleased with his eager reaction. "You feel so good," He panted, giving a particularly harsh stroke of his hips, breath stammering in the back of his throat when Craig clenched around him. "Such a good job, baby, just like that,"
"Tw-eek," The name barely made it past his teeth, his voice breaking around it. He tried to speak it again, but the syllables vanished in the midst of unfiltered, involuntary whines. Tweek hushed him with praise he rasped against his shoulder and a tender link of their lips. He swallowed the grunts, the whimpers, the strangled gasp when his hand crept between their bodies to stroke him. Craig jolts, his whole body tense and wracked with shudders as his back arches high off the couch cushion. He doesn't come with a warning, just a choked cry punched from his lungs, into Tweek's mouth. The substance shoots between them in strings and streaks Craig's stomach with a dripping white.
Tweek moans gutturally as Craig's hole twitches and spasms around him, comfortingly sliding his hands along his hips, continuing to ram into him through his orgasm. "You did so good, Craig." Every few words were punctuated with a grunt or a hoarse pant. His loving utterances grew increasingly breathy, his quick, constant rhythm lost in his impending release. He chased it urgently, thrusts erratic now that they no longer followed a tempo. The knot of tension and heat pulled taut in his gut until it snapped. His vision blurred white around the edges, his breath shallow, his legs trembling to keep him up on his feet. A throaty groan rumbled from his chest as his hips stuttered forward, Craig's walls contracting to trap the white liquid spilled inside of him. For a moment the world around him slows, his mind wiped of any coherent thought, swimming in a tingling pleasure that takes away his ability to hear anything other than a pulse. His ability to process things only returns after a quiet panting he recognized as his own hits his ears. It's heavy and unstable, quivering much like the rest of his body. He can't see anything and soon realizes he'd been staring at the back of his eyelids which he cracks open.
Craig isn't faring too well either. His chest sharply rises and falls with each huff that leaves, dick softened between his twitching legs, skin stippled with sweat. Hair clung to his forehead and marked neck, framing his face: parted lips, drooped eyelids that hooded dazed eyes, and a crimson highlighting his cheeks. He may be fucking hot, but definitely not presentable.
It's only when Tweek is done catching his breath, or more so admiring the mess he's made of him, that he speaks. "Oh shit," He grunts, and the tremor of Craig's hole around him reminds him he'd came inside. "Sorry."
"It's fine," He exhales, voice barely even a breath. "Was gonna ask for it inside anyway,"
Tweek can feel the red blooming on his cheeks. "Are you ok?" He slowly, gently glides a hand up his waist, a trail of goosebumps rising on Craig's skin under his fingers. His palm comes to rest on the side of his face.
Craig leans into the touch, replying in a murmur. "Fine."
Tweek nods and draws his hips back, steadily pulling out before it could start feeling sticky, sweaty, and overheated instead of satisfying. "Love you," He murmurs into his neck.
"Yeah, love you,"
Tweek remains slumped against him for a moment, breathing softly against his skin.
Craig gives a groan, bothered, yet still loving as he presses a hand to his chest. He flashes a slight grin. "Alright, you can get off now, it's hot as hell,"