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“What’s that, honey?”
Tweek’s been home for five whole minutes now and has yet to take off his shoes. Craig doesn’t have anywhere to be, but pizza is scheduled to arrive in two hours and Tweek is wearing a hole in their carpet with his frenzied pacing.
“Urkh, I said that stupid chain bookstore fucked up their order so now I gotta go in early tomorrow and make like a thousand croissants! A thousand, Craig!”
“That sucks, babe.”
He looks good all pissed off in his black pleated work slacks and his usual sage green shirt with the snap closures, but after being together for thirty-odd years, Craig knows Tweek well enough to be able to tell this is not the type of upset he’ll easily quell with compliments and kisses. He’s riled up and he needs solutions, actions.
“Yeah, it sucks! Grghh!”
“Why don’t you get the new guy to do it? Didn’t you say he was pretty good with croissants?”
Finally, Tweek throws himself on the couch next to Craig and kicks his ugly, clunky black food service shoes off onto the floor. Even with his horrible slumped posture, surveying the long lines of his willowy body makes Craig’s mouth go dry.
“Yeah, he’s pretty good, but he’s an ex-con.” Craig looks at him blankly. “So I have to supervise?” Tweek supplies like it was supposed to have been obvious.
“Babe, he was locked up for stabbing Stan. He’s a hero. I don’t think your pastries are in danger.”
“Ugh, that’s not the issue, Craig!”
The issue is control, Craig’s mind supplies, but pointing that out will not help at this juncture. He’s losing him. It’s time for decisive action.
Craig leans over and begins unbuckling his black leather belt.
“Ngh, what are you doing, man?”
“We’ll figure this out later. You’re stressed, babe; let me help calm you down.”
“Mmnh,” Tweek moans as Craig undoes his pants and runs his hands along the length of his soft, clothed cock. “Agh, Craig—”
The way he whines out his name even in an entirely non-sexual setting always excites Craig. Years of hearing those whines when Tweek needs emotional support and when he’s writhing on his cock have conflated those two needful Tweek states in his mind. He associates it with taking care of Tweek in every sense of the word.
He doesn’t mean to get excited when Tweek is having issues, and he doesn’t for the really big things. Tweek is the most important person in his life, not some fetish object.
It’s obvious what Tweek gets out of having someone take care of him the way he does. One look at his pathetic excuse of a father makes all that amply clear. Craig doesn’t know what it says about him that he slides into this role for him so easily. He doesn’t even want to think about why he’ll do whatever fucked up shit Tweek wants when he’s giving it to Craig. He loves how weird he’s allowed to be with Tweek without judgment.
He stops stroking him and begins sliding his mouth up and down his hard length through his boxers, leaving damp spots in his wake.
When Craig pulls his boxers down, Tweek breathes out, “Craig, hngh, I don’t know if I’m up for it.” He takes Tweek’s erect cock firmly in hand and looks up at him with a raised brow as if to say, not up for it?
“Eugh, point taken, asshole. I just don’t know if I can focus right now.”
“I think you need to relax, babe. Wanna take a seat? Take a seat right over here?”
Tweek blushes at that and bites his lip. Then after a moment he ticks a little but nods vigorously through it. He shucks his pants the rest of the way, tripping in his haste to get them off of his ankles.
“So eager, baby,” Craig coos at him, only slightly mockingly.
“Grhgh, shut up!” Tweek hisses, and then he comes over and sits his ass right down on Craig’s fucking face.
His ass is sheer perfection. Ever since he got fully clean and took up yoga to keep his mind clear (and, incidentally, body limber and delectable), it’s been healthy and full. It’s not huge— it probably couldn’t smother Craig to death— but if it could, that’s how he’d opt to go out.
Craig runs his hands along Tweek’s well-muscled thighs, squeezing slightly to let him know it’s okay to let go. He always tenses up at first, like he’s worried he’s going to crush Craig under his weight, but by the end, he’s always grinding against him like he doesn’t give a shit if Craig’s nose fucking snaps. Tweek broke his nose back in the 3rd grade because of some stupid rumors made up by their worst classmates, but it’s why they got to know each other, so it would only be fitting for him to do so again.
Craig grips his cheeks and spreads him open as Tweek tries to situate himself more comfortably. Nothing will get him calm until Craig begins touching and licking and tending to his most sensitive parts.
Tweek is so wonderfully sensitive. He moans as Craig laves his tongue over the underside of his balls. He cries out as Craig takes each one into his mouth in turn and sucks with care. Then Craig licks up and down his entrance, and Tweek attempts to muffle his sounds by shoving his fist in his mouth.
“Come on, baby, I want to hear you,” Craig mutters into his skin, kneading the flesh of his ass in encouragement.
Tweek obeys with a cute little “Augh,” and he puts his hands on the armrest so he’s unable to muffle his wails when Craig starts stabbing into him with his tongue. His hips roll back onto it, and he gasps and quivers around Craig’s tongue from the stretch.
Craig would lick him for hours, but last time he did, Tweek’s calves were so horribly cramped he limped to walk for a week afterwards. Today it’s just for prep and to get him to relax. He’s got something else in mind for his husband today.
He’s still too tense; he’s so sensitive that the stimulation is just making him tense up and clench hard around Craig’s tongue, almost painfully so, relaxing only periodically in spastic little bursts.
Tweek’s cries sound desperate, like he’s hurtling quickly towards a painfully intense climax, and he leans forward to release Craig’s cock from its cloth confines. His shaking fingers struggling with the button make Craig throb hard.
“Fuck,” he groans and he lets go of his grip on Tweek’s ass to undo his pants and pull them down over his throbbing cock along with his briefs in one fell swoop. Tweek wails, the release having rocked him back harder onto Craig’s hungry mouth, his lapping tongue. He tastes so good, the noises he’s making are so perfect, and Craig curses that he’s unable to fuck him with his tongue and dick at the same time.
As Tweek grips him loosely and begins pumping and licking at the slit like a kitten, Craig realizes how painfully hard he’s become. Tweek’s still moaning like he’s about to come but he’s teasing Craig with his delicate licks, loose grip, and slow pumps of his cock. Master deepthroater pulling a cock tease move. Craig’s going to absolutely wreck this stupid little twink, his beloved husband of twenty years, the love of his life since ten years old.
“Get on the bed,” he says, nipping at Tweek’s cheeks and inner thighs. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”
"Hah, I don’t think that’s sexually transmissible, Craig."
On instinct Craig draws back his hand and snaps it forward against Tweek’s right cheek with stinging force. The crack and the heated cry that follow tell him it’s probably already left a beautiful mark.
“Get on the fucking bed. Don’t make me say it again. You gonna be a good boy?”
Through heated pants, Tweek moans at the command. He rasps out, “No!” but even so, he dismounts Craig’s face and abides by the order, scrambling off on shaky legs.
Craig smiles to himself and gathers up their discarded pants, making his way to the bedroom at his own pace. Best to let Tweek cool down a bit, to let the anticipation build.
Still panting, Tweek watches him from the center of the bed as Craig dumps the pants in the dirty laundry hamper and goes to the bathroom to rinse his mouth out with mouthwash so Tweek won’t make a fuss about being kissed with a dirty mouth. He usually doesn’t, but today he seems determined to be a stubborn brat.
Craig pulls his own shirt off, discards his socks, and orders Tweek, “Strip.”
Tweek’s lashes flutter at that; he likes being told what to do in a sexual context. But even more than that, he likes to be forced into compliance. When he narrows his eyes and snaps back, “Make me, Daddy,” Craig lunges at him and kisses him with bruising force as he wrenches apart the snaps of his shirt and yanks the sleeves off of his jerking shoulders.
He hoists Tweek’s slender legs up in the air, knocking him onto his back with a yelp. He kisses his bony ankles as he pulls off his socks, then kisses down the insides of his feet. Tweek moans softly; he’s always so embarrassed of being hypersensitive all over, and he shouldn’t be.
Craig loves it so much; he can’t imagine sex holding his attention like this with anyone else. He cries out every single time Craig sucks one of his peachy pink nipples into his mouth, and he shivers and suppresses a moan if Craig so much as strokes the inside of his wrist when they’re out in public holding hands.
Once he’s tossed those remaining articles of clothing aside, it’s just the two of them there naked on the bed. Tweek trembles with anticipation and Craig is struck with the sudden urge to dominate him but be tender, to take care of him but let him know he’s his.
Craig surges forward and grabs Tweek’s head to bring their lips together. His lips are always cracked and, like every other part of him, they’re exceptionally sensitive. Tweek moans into his mouth and Craig moans as he swallows them down.
“Face down, honey,” Craig pants into his mouth as he tweaks Tweek’s nipples a little too hard. He cries sharply and falls onto his back. Craig swoops down to flip him onto his stomach, pressing him down flat with both hands at his waist.
“Bad boy, are you trying to disobey me?”
“No, Daddy— ngh, please!" Tweek whines, getting up on his knees so he can push his hips up and back, pressing his ass against him until Craig’s cock is wedged between his cheeks. Little shit.
He’d tear into him right then and there if Tweek was remotely prepped, but he isn’t. It’s been a while, too. Tweek’s been so stressed out at work, he’s been coming home and taking it out on Craig’s ass for weeks now. Not that Craig’s complaining.
“Be patient, baby,” he tells him gently, and he squeezes some lube onto his palm and warms it up in his hands. One hand goes to slick up his cock, the other presses one slick finger into Tweek’s quivering hole. Craig isn’t sure if it’s the anxiety making his muscles clench, or Tweek generally being a small guy, but he’s achingly tight each and every time— always has been.
Craig dreams of making him walk around with a butt plug in and being ready for him the second he returns from work, but Tweek’s too neurotic for something like. He fantasizes about staying in him for hours, just being kept warm, getting little quivering hugs around his cock as Tweek tenses up from this and that.
The first handful of times he’d topped, Craig came in minutes. Inside Tweek was just so hot and constrictive; he was so happy to be filled up for the first time like that. He’d grinded down hard onto Craig, crying and gasping with every movement— just the most recklessly enthusiastic virgin Craig could possibly imagine, and he shot off like a rocket too soon in part because he was an inexperienced virgin himself but mostly because the sight of Tweek’s eagerness to be filled up by Craig specifically was more erotic than anything he had ever seen in his internet porn browsing. No sick shit on the internet came close to touching his twisted baby.
As he fingers his husband in the present, he’s much the same, grinding his ass down onto Craig’s fingers as he adds a second, whining at the stretch but unable to stop himself from rocking back against him. Only he’s not hopped up, for which Craig is grateful, both because he doesn’t want his beloved on drugs and because his ass can’t take the pounding teenage meth head Tweek doled out on a regular basis.
Their solution to Craig’s little problem was Tweek topping while Craig figured out how to last longer than two minutes. That process involved Kenny McCormick advising him to adopt the death grip in his masturbatory activities, after which point Kenny made fun of him with Stan about the situation and dubbed him Two Pump Chump forevermore. It was worth it for that first time he was able to bury himself deep inside his love and grind against his prostate continuously until Tweek’s legs shook. Then his whole body, and he gasped and cried and screeched out Craig's name as he came like a geyser on both of their stomachs, and Craig in turn inside of him. He's never left Tweek hanging since then, too awed by the experience to ever miss out again.
Craig's two fingers press up against that little bundle of nerves inside him and when he gently massages it, Tweek cries out sharply. So sensitive, always so sensitive. Craig moves his long blond hair aside to suck and nip at the base of his neck.
He pulls out and goes to fuck him with three fingers for a bit, but Tweek gasps out, “Just fuck me already!”
“I got you, baby.” Craig pulls out and wipes his fingers on his shirt on the floor, staring at that pretty pink hole all the while. He wants to lick it again but Tweek will scream to be fucked and this is all for him, really. It’s for Craig, too— the idea that it’s all to please Tweek, to give him everything he wants, is pretty much his kink.
Craig takes ahold of himself and spreads Tweek’s left cheek aside to slowly push his way inside. He groans at the pressure all around his cock, at the way Tweek cries out and clutches at the sheets as he tries to relax around him, at the tremor that runs through Tweek’s body at all times. It’s like he’s Craig’s personal little vibrating cock sleeve.
Tweek moans sharply and arches his back to press himself back into Craig. Anticipating it, Craig slams down into him at the same time and Tweek screams as his knees give out and Craig’s cock plunges in to the hilt.
Craig readjusts his legs, pressing them down on the backs of Tweek’s thighs to force them open, and he reaches down to hold his ass cheeks apart so he can pull out and thrust back in over and over while watching his cock disappear inside him. He goes in so hard, so deep, and Tweek cries out into the pillow at every stab inside and gasps for breath at every withdrawal. He hugs him tightly from the inside, even more tightly as he’s trying to pull out, like he never wants Craig to leave.
The visual is so good— if he could have any image seared on the insides of his eyelids for all time, any image flash through his mind for all eternity when he dies, it would be this. Maybe interspersed with footage of Tweek laughing and smiling up at him from behind his morning cup of tea, because Craig is a fucking simp.
Right now, though, he wants to feel as close to him as possible. He’ll settle for the visual of his blond hair or his neck or his flushed cheek up-close, and Craig kisses each of those spots in turn as he pushes his bliss-stricken husband down flush against the mattress with his body.
Craig wraps his arm across his neck and shoulders, and grinds into him slow and deep until his love sings with pleasure, his cries mellifluous and unbroken. He pushes through the pleasure to tell Craig something very important: “Daddy, ungh, fuck, fuck, you’re so big, and you— and you, hah, you fuck me so good, I love you, I love you!"
The words spill from his lips in broken gasps, hoarse praise
“I love you too, baby,” Craig chokes out back.
The first time Tweek called him Daddy, he’d been pressed flush against him fucking him into his freshman dorm twin bed in much the same way. Tweek froze up immediately; he was shaking, shrinking away from Craig he was so ashamed.
But Craig loved it because he loved him, and Tweek wasn’t acting or trying to be sexy. That was just how he truly felt in the moment; that Craig was taking care of him so well he was Daddy.
He’s holding himself back from coming, wanting to prolong Tweek’s angelic cries as long as possible, prolong that delicious spastic clenching encircling his cock. He wants to prolong Tweek’s bliss.
He knows it’s real because despite his being a very good actor, Tweek is a shitty liar, especially in bed. He’s too damn sensitive to fake a thing, another thing Craig’s always loved about him, about fucking him.
He’s close too, Craig can tell by the way his hips begin tucking forward, trying to escape the large imposition of Craig’s cock; he’s trembling and squeezing like he’s trying to push him out of his body.
“Don’t shut me out, honey. You’re, ah, you feel so good on Daddy’s cock. Don’t you wanna be good for Daddy?”
Tweek only wails in response. He’s beyond words which fills Craig with the primal urge to fuck him even stupider, to make him come harder than he ever has before wrapped around his cock.
“You’re so good, baby, behaving so good for my cock. Such a good boy,” Craig mutters into his hair.
“Hah, I’m not! I’m not good, Craig!” He’s struggling; all his muscles are tensed up to the point that he’s clearly having difficulty letting go enough to come.
"Mnnh, of course you are, baby. Look how good you’re being, taking my cock, taking it so good,” he says, pressing tender kisses into Tweek’s milky-sweet scalp.
In fact, Tweek isn’t taking him very well at all at that moment. He’s making sounds like he’s dying, clamping down spastically on Craig’s cock and it’s hard to fuck him through it but he knows this is going to be an intense one for Tweek. He can tell he’s probably already feeling electric sparks from his ass and groin through to his fingers and toes.
His teeth chatter as he struggles to take Craig, but there’s nothing he could do to be bad in Craig’s eye. It’s hot when he struggles to take the same cock he’s been valiantly taking up the ass since they were sixteen when Craig finally mastered the art of not immediately busting upon pushing his way inside. Craig’s always felt he was a pretty normal and boring guy, but if someone like Tweek can find him exciting and overwhelming, how can he not believe it?
“It’s, augh, it’s too big, I can’t—"
“You’re already taking it, babe. You’re, ah, you’re trembling all around me, baby boy. Mmm, so hot, it's so hot watching you struggle.”
Tweek cries as Craig whispers these words low in his ear and slides his hands down the length of Tweek’s torso, down his skinny chest and pointed hard nipples, down the soft skin of his abdomen, down to cup under his hip bones so he can tilt Tweek’s pelvis up and back. Then Craig is pounding straight down into him again as his husband wails.
He can’t escape it; Craig will drag him to his release, twitching and screaming, and it’ll wipe them both out in the best way possible. He’s staving off climax gritting his teeth and slamming his eyes shut, but then the only senses that remain are the feeling of Tweek’s twitchy little ass around his cock and the sound of his desperate cries. He digs his teeth into Tweek’s ear and Tweek screams and the muscles inside him clamp down rhythmically. He can feel the tremors wracking Tweek’s whole body because they wrack his vicariously. He needs to be pulled over the edge forcibly.
“Come for me. Come for Daddy,” Craig growls, digging his teeth into Tweek’s pale neck beneath his ear, where he’s particularly sensitive. Tweek shrieks at the dual assault of teeth in neck and cock plunging in deep.
He slides his palm under Tweek’s twitching cock, slick from sweat and pre-come and Tweek grinds into his hand, mewling and crying when he fucks himself back on Craig's cock which is already pounding him mercilessly.
“Come on Daddy’s cock. Don’t you wanna be good?”
Tweek sobs and the rhythmic clenching gets more erratic until he starts choking on his ragged cries and Craig feels him release into his hand. He leaves a huge puddle— Craig imagines it as all the stress leaving Tweek’s body and he milks him til the last drop, hips swiveling so his cock drags against his prostate til Tweek is whimpering from the overstimulation.
“That’s it, that’s my good boy,” Craig hisses as the furious spasms of Tweek’s ass slow down and he starts to relax a bit.
"Daddy," Tweek breathes out, sounding small and sleepy beneath him.
Craig wants to join him, pounds in just twice more and groans as he releases deep inside his love. He stays buried in him for a little bit too long, feeling his pulse from the inside, the two of them panting, Craig kissing into his damp hair.
Tweek is placid and pliable under him and Craig wants to bask in his calm, but Tweek begins whimpering and begs, "Craig, get out, ah, it hurts." He withdraws immediately and sits back looking at his debauched husband, skin dewy with sweat and pink from exertion, ass dripping with Craig’s cum.
Tweek props himself up on shaky knees and looks over his shoulder expectantly. It occurs to Craig just how beautiful Tweek is, how lucky he is to have him.
"Mmm, come on, Daddy. Clean me up,” he demands brattily.
Craig is spent but can’t resist the invitation, and bends forward to soothe the soreness he just pounded into him, licking around his tender entrance.
Tweek cries out in pleasured pain as Craig works his way inside again, just so he can lap up his own release. It's not that he loves the taste of himself. He just now associates it with kissing Tweek post-blowjob and Tweek always delights in swallowing all his cum because, despite what he thinks, he is a very good boy. And so is Craig as he sucks his load out of his husband's asshole, while somebody furiously rings their doorbell.
Once he's satisfied Tweek is nice and clean, once he's swallowed it all down, Craig pulls his tongue from him and Tweek collapses with a cry. He rolls onto his back and winces in pain, then wriggles slightly onto his side to take the pressure off his sore ass. His stomach and chest are still covered in his spend and Craig heads to the bathroom to wash his hands and wet a washcloth in warm water.
"Agh, I'm so fucking sore, man," Tweek says as he returns to clean off his torso. "You're getting the pizza."
Craig runs the warm wash cloth along his soft dick and Tweek gasps. "Of course, honey," he says, kissing Tweek's cheek softly.
He tosses the washcloth into the laundry bin and pulls on some sweatpants and a T-shirt to go to the door. On the front step stands a man decked out in gothic makeup like an extra from The Crow.
"Took you long enough," he says as they exchange money and pizza. Craig is too tired and blissed-out for a snippy retort. "You have cum on your face, by the way."
With that the goth departs and Craig brings the pizza upstairs to eat in bed because the bedding has to be washed anyway. Tweek laughs and wipes the cum off Craig's face when Craig mentions, "Apparently, I have cum on my face," and they eat and watch a Dutch horror movie that makes Tweek emotional for some reason.
Craig can barely keep his eyes open, but he brushes while Tweek showers. His husband is always weirdly invigorated after sex once the sleepy haze wears off. As he slowly drifts off, Tweek cuddles up to him and tells him he texted Trent about croissants in the morning and they're all good, and Craig falls asleep warm and snuggly with his baby in his arms.