Most people would think Tweek too nervous to leave his window open, curtain fluttering in a cold night lit by warm streetlamps. Anything could come flying through an open space like that right into the safety of his bedroom. Projectiles, thieves, various unwanted woodland creatures. Luckily for Tweek, he’s waiting for something— someone— specific to do just that.
It happens a little after midnight: four precise thuds up the outer wall of the apartment by a practiced climber followed by the heavy furling of a caped figure through the open window. Tweek stopped pretending to be woken by this intrusion a long time ago because fake sleeping is almost as futile as actually trying to sleep. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge the figure either, still scrolling through his RSS feed.
“If you’re so concerned with, agh, protecting your identity, maybe you should change out of the costume before coming back here. It would even let you, I dunno, use our front door in safety?”
A gloved hand presses down on Tweek’s left shoulder and he frowns, turning in his computer chair to face the cloaked form of Mysterion. A tiny spike of panic does zing through him then, and he quickly scans up and down to make sure the silence isn’t caused by a missing limb or punctured organ.
There doesn’t seem to be any injury though and instead Kenny pulls Tweek to him, lined intimately chest to hip, lips the barest distance apart. Tweek can also feel the hot line of his groin, feels his own dick twitch in interest— a little fun is always a nice way to relax after an evening patrolling the streets. He reaches to pull Kenny’s hood back and a hand closes on his wrist.
“Don’t.”
Tweek has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. The gruff intonation is just Kenny being solemn and grim and frustratingly in character. Which he always is while in costume. It’s not that it isn’t hot— Tweek has ridden that dick plenty of times with that gravelly voice commanding him to completion. It’s just that, well, that is not what Tweek’s in the mood for tonight and prying Kenny out of that mindset is going to take some…finesse. Maybe, eventually, brute force. Tweek can swing that.
“Can I…” he lets the vague request linger as he slides twitchy hands over Mysterion’s chest, mouth ghost warmly over lips cold from the night air. The hand that was around one his wrists moves to the back of his neck and pulls him in for a crushing kiss. He lets Kenny’s tongue lap hungrily into his mouth, dragging his hands from chest, to sides, to Kenny’s ass before taking a greedy handful and grinding forward hard.
Kenny’s moan is low and controlled and he pulls admonishingly at the hair on Tweek’s nape, who responds with a growl of his own.
“Behave.”
“Or, gah, what?”
There’s another tug and while it only fuels Tweek’s desire to bend Kenny over his desk, he’ll have to give in a little to keep this from turning into an actual wrestling match. Or worse, have Kenny escape back out the window, which he’s done before, fucking tease.
Tweek lets the grip push him to his knees, hands catching on the tactical belt and searching for the right spots to slip it loose. He does cut a menacing figure from this angle, eyes almost entirely shrouded by the hood and mask as Tweek keeps doe-eyed contact. He trails a palm down the front of Kenny’s pants, smiles coyly when he feels a twitch and the smallest, most restrained gasp.
“Is this what you want? Are you sure?”
Tweek’s already pulling away and down at the layers of clothing, mouthing at the heated flesh under cotton briefs (the pair on the inside of Kenny’s pants) and drawing out quiet puffs of breath. Removing that last layer, Kenny’s half hard and Tweek teases him with kitten licks along velvety skin. He still reaches to grope Kenny’s ass— he can’t help it, he loves digging into that soft flesh— knows Kenny likes it too, though he hates to admit it when he’s trying to act all tough and in charge.
It takes almost no time at all for the hand in his hair to loosen, to start petting assurring strokes. Mysterion thinks he has Tweek Tweak so well trained. He peers up from his kneeling position, smooths his hands up beneath gray spandex.
“Let me take care of you then, Mysterion.”
Kenny should really know better than to let Tweek so close like this. Should remember half of his sparring time is spent boxing with Tweek. So it’s entirely his own fault when Tweek hooks his foot behind Kenny’s leg and kicks out, knocking Kenny off balance. Kenny predictably turns to catch himself on Tweek’s desk, caught up on his pants around his thighs. Following his movements Tweek presses himself against Kenny, loving the grinding pressure of his jeans on bare skin.
“W—”
“Are you sure you want to fight it?” Tweek whispers into one ear, feels the shiver that has Kenny’s right leg twitching outwards, “Mmm, you loved it so much last time.”
Kenny attempts to elbow Tweek in the stomach, but he’s braced for it, shoving forward with his weight again as he keeps that arm pinned to the desk with one of his own.
“I— nngh—” Kenny goes silent rather than break character, ducking his head but not pulling away as Tweek trails two fingers down the curve of his ass. As Tweek reaches the more delicate skin between Kenny’s legs he pulls away at the last second. Any whine that may have sounded is defiantly cut off, but there won’t be much resistance left once Tweek is done, he’s sure. People take Tweek’s shakes and twitches as a given. They don’t bother to consider that Tweek’s long since learned to work with and around them, as he grasps a bottle of lube, pops the cap, and lets it drizzle out over his fingers, all on one hand. The excess falls directly onto Kenny’s ass, who gasps as it lands and slides together and down over him.
“So wet for me already, you fucking whore.”
That gets a response. Kenny’s upper half is pressed hard against the desk, trying to raise his ass even higher, spread his legs a little farther. Barely, but just enough for Tweek to notice the difference.
“Tweek, please—”
“Shutup!”
Tweek smacks Kenny’s ass. He doesn’t want to hear it until Mysterion breaks. Until only Kenny remains, begging for him.
He takes Tweek’s first few fingers like a champ, opting to breathe through the stretch and, to be fair, Tweek doesn’t really go searching until he has three fingers in.
“Oh—” The hooded avenger groans low and shaky as Tweek finally curls his fingers just so, slamming a fist on Tweek’s desk as if it’s going to help.
“Did you like that? Should I keep going?”
“No— yes—” There’s the smallest crack, the tiniest waver in Mysterion’s voice— his will. Tweek would be a fool not to take it. He massages into that spot with ruthless abandon, delighting as Kenny falls apart with each determined pass.
“Nnh— oh— aah… aah! Tweek!”
With that last cry, any grip on his darker facade is broken. Any vestige of Mysterion has vanished and Kenny is fully with Tweek now, in mind and body. He’s trembling now, ass up and legs splayed just like Tweek loves to watch. His eyes focus on something hazy and uncertain, focused entirely on the sensations Tweek inflicts upon him. He might even be— yup he’s drooling.
“Tweek, please—” Kenny groans, and this time, it’s all him. Tweek leans in and nuzzles the damp saltiness of Kenny’s neck.
“What? Not Mysterion?”
Kenny gathers himself enough to glare at Tweek, “Damnit, babe, if you don’t fuck me right now—”
And Tweek does, lining up his slick cock and pushing himself into Kenny with only a little urgency. Because before— with Kenny losing his patience, flipping them again, and riding Tweek’s dick— was plenty of fun. But Tweek wants him like this.
Kenny pants out stilted moans until the movements of their joining becomes fluid enough that Tweek can snap hard into him, practically feeling the edge of the desk through Kenny’s thighs.
“Fuck— yes, right there!”
Tweek can feel the tightening and flutter and caught up in the moment it’s almost too much. Kenny’s pants have fallen to his ankles and Tweek uses the time it takes to hike one of Kenny’s legs up onto the desk to calm himself, pulling louder, more desperate sounds from Kenny as Tweek keeps a sharp, brutal pace. His hood is askew, the upper half of his costume pushed aside just enough for Tweek to lean forward and tuck a hand up to grasp a nipple. The city’s great avenger unmasked and begging for Tweek’s cock.
“Harder— harder! Yes! Fuck me so good babe! Ah—”
Kenny tightens around him very suddenly, trembling, sobbing, almost trying to crawl away from the overwhelming sensation. Tweek holds him steady until he follows suit, collapsing on top of his shuddering form and planting tired kisses to Kenny’s sweaty neck.
“Tweek— the desk—”
“Hmm?”
“It’s cutting off circulation to my legs.”
“Wagh! Sorry!”
He steps back just enough that Kenny falls back on him, sending both into a quaky pile on the floor.
“When I said I wanted you to fuck me bambi-legged that’s not what I had in mind.”
Kenny’s smiling though and Tweek plants a sloppy, fond kiss on his cheek.
“Rrg you liked it.”
Kenny peers at him, flushed under the mask still in place.
“Good work, citizen,” comes the gravelly response.
Re: Kenny(Mysterion)/Tweek, roleplaying, half clothed sex
It happens a little after midnight: four precise thuds up the outer wall of the apartment by a practiced climber followed by the heavy furling of a caped figure through the open window. Tweek stopped pretending to be woken by this intrusion a long time ago because fake sleeping is almost as futile as actually trying to sleep. He doesn’t turn to acknowledge the figure either, still scrolling through his RSS feed.
“If you’re so concerned with, agh, protecting your identity, maybe you should change out of the costume before coming back here. It would even let you, I dunno, use our front door in safety?”
A gloved hand presses down on Tweek’s left shoulder and he frowns, turning in his computer chair to face the cloaked form of Mysterion. A tiny spike of panic does zing through him then, and he quickly scans up and down to make sure the silence isn’t caused by a missing limb or punctured organ.
There doesn’t seem to be any injury though and instead Kenny pulls Tweek to him, lined intimately chest to hip, lips the barest distance apart. Tweek can also feel the hot line of his groin, feels his own dick twitch in interest— a little fun is always a nice way to relax after an evening patrolling the streets. He reaches to pull Kenny’s hood back and a hand closes on his wrist.
“Don’t.”
Tweek has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. The gruff intonation is just Kenny being solemn and grim and frustratingly in character. Which he always is while in costume. It’s not that it isn’t hot— Tweek has ridden that dick plenty of times with that gravelly voice commanding him to completion. It’s just that, well, that is not what Tweek’s in the mood for tonight and prying Kenny out of that mindset is going to take some…finesse. Maybe, eventually, brute force. Tweek can swing that.
“Can I…” he lets the vague request linger as he slides twitchy hands over Mysterion’s chest, mouth ghost warmly over lips cold from the night air. The hand that was around one his wrists moves to the back of his neck and pulls him in for a crushing kiss. He lets Kenny’s tongue lap hungrily into his mouth, dragging his hands from chest, to sides, to Kenny’s ass before taking a greedy handful and grinding forward hard.
Kenny’s moan is low and controlled and he pulls admonishingly at the hair on Tweek’s nape, who responds with a growl of his own.
“Behave.”
“Or, gah, what?”
There’s another tug and while it only fuels Tweek’s desire to bend Kenny over his desk, he’ll have to give in a little to keep this from turning into an actual wrestling match. Or worse, have Kenny escape back out the window, which he’s done before, fucking tease.
Tweek lets the grip push him to his knees, hands catching on the tactical belt and searching for the right spots to slip it loose. He does cut a menacing figure from this angle, eyes almost entirely shrouded by the hood and mask as Tweek keeps doe-eyed contact. He trails a palm down the front of Kenny’s pants, smiles coyly when he feels a twitch and the smallest, most restrained gasp.
“Is this what you want? Are you sure?”
Tweek’s already pulling away and down at the layers of clothing, mouthing at the heated flesh under cotton briefs (the pair on the inside of Kenny’s pants) and drawing out quiet puffs of breath. Removing that last layer, Kenny’s half hard and Tweek teases him with kitten licks along velvety skin. He still reaches to grope Kenny’s ass— he can’t help it, he loves digging into that soft flesh— knows Kenny likes it too, though he hates to admit it when he’s trying to act all tough and in charge.
It takes almost no time at all for the hand in his hair to loosen, to start petting assurring strokes. Mysterion thinks he has Tweek Tweak so well trained. He peers up from his kneeling position, smooths his hands up beneath gray spandex.
“Let me take care of you then, Mysterion.”
Kenny should really know better than to let Tweek so close like this. Should remember half of his sparring time is spent boxing with Tweek. So it’s entirely his own fault when Tweek hooks his foot behind Kenny’s leg and kicks out, knocking Kenny off balance. Kenny predictably turns to catch himself on Tweek’s desk, caught up on his pants around his thighs. Following his movements Tweek presses himself against Kenny, loving the grinding pressure of his jeans on bare skin.
“W—”
“Are you sure you want to fight it?” Tweek whispers into one ear, feels the shiver that has Kenny’s right leg twitching outwards, “Mmm, you loved it so much last time.”
Kenny attempts to elbow Tweek in the stomach, but he’s braced for it, shoving forward with his weight again as he keeps that arm pinned to the desk with one of his own.
“I— nngh—” Kenny goes silent rather than break character, ducking his head but not pulling away as Tweek trails two fingers down the curve of his ass. As Tweek reaches the more delicate skin between Kenny’s legs he pulls away at the last second. Any whine that may have sounded is defiantly cut off, but there won’t be much resistance left once Tweek is done, he’s sure. People take Tweek’s shakes and twitches as a given. They don’t bother to consider that Tweek’s long since learned to work with and around them, as he grasps a bottle of lube, pops the cap, and lets it drizzle out over his fingers, all on one hand. The excess falls directly onto Kenny’s ass, who gasps as it lands and slides together and down over him.
“So wet for me already, you fucking whore.”
That gets a response. Kenny’s upper half is pressed hard against the desk, trying to raise his ass even higher, spread his legs a little farther. Barely, but just enough for Tweek to notice the difference.
“Tweek, please—”
“Shutup!”
Tweek smacks Kenny’s ass. He doesn’t want to hear it until Mysterion breaks. Until only Kenny remains, begging for him.
He takes Tweek’s first few fingers like a champ, opting to breathe through the stretch and, to be fair, Tweek doesn’t really go searching until he has three fingers in.
“Oh—” The hooded avenger groans low and shaky as Tweek finally curls his fingers just so, slamming a fist on Tweek’s desk as if it’s going to help.
“Did you like that? Should I keep going?”
“No— yes—” There’s the smallest crack, the tiniest waver in Mysterion’s voice— his will. Tweek would be a fool not to take it. He massages into that spot with ruthless abandon, delighting as Kenny falls apart with each determined pass.
“Nnh— oh— aah… aah! Tweek!”
With that last cry, any grip on his darker facade is broken. Any vestige of Mysterion has vanished and Kenny is fully with Tweek now, in mind and body. He’s trembling now, ass up and legs splayed just like Tweek loves to watch. His eyes focus on something hazy and uncertain, focused entirely on the sensations Tweek inflicts upon him. He might even be— yup he’s drooling.
“Tweek, please—” Kenny groans, and this time, it’s all him. Tweek leans in and nuzzles the damp saltiness of Kenny’s neck.
“What? Not Mysterion?”
Kenny gathers himself enough to glare at Tweek, “Damnit, babe, if you don’t fuck me right now—”
And Tweek does, lining up his slick cock and pushing himself into Kenny with only a little urgency. Because before— with Kenny losing his patience, flipping them again, and riding Tweek’s dick— was plenty of fun. But Tweek wants him like this.
Kenny pants out stilted moans until the movements of their joining becomes fluid enough that Tweek can snap hard into him, practically feeling the edge of the desk through Kenny’s thighs.
“Fuck— yes, right there!”
Tweek can feel the tightening and flutter and caught up in the moment it’s almost too much. Kenny’s pants have fallen to his ankles and Tweek uses the time it takes to hike one of Kenny’s legs up onto the desk to calm himself, pulling louder, more desperate sounds from Kenny as Tweek keeps a sharp, brutal pace. His hood is askew, the upper half of his costume pushed aside just enough for Tweek to lean forward and tuck a hand up to grasp a nipple. The city’s great avenger unmasked and begging for Tweek’s cock.
“Harder— harder! Yes! Fuck me so good babe! Ah—”
Kenny tightens around him very suddenly, trembling, sobbing, almost trying to crawl away from the overwhelming sensation. Tweek holds him steady until he follows suit, collapsing on top of his shuddering form and planting tired kisses to Kenny’s sweaty neck.
“Tweek— the desk—”
“Hmm?”
“It’s cutting off circulation to my legs.”
“Wagh! Sorry!”
He steps back just enough that Kenny falls back on him, sending both into a quaky pile on the floor.
“When I said I wanted you to fuck me bambi-legged that’s not what I had in mind.”
Kenny’s smiling though and Tweek plants a sloppy, fond kiss on his cheek.
“Rrg you liked it.”
Kenny peers at him, flushed under the mask still in place.
“Good work, citizen,” comes the gravelly response.
Tweek attempts to strangle Kenny with his cloak.