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Stan had replied to the post expecting a shy, quiet, nerdy kind of type. Maybe someone a little on the bigger side, looking for a nice, nonjudgmental dude to get some help in the gym from and trade blowjobs after. He’d sorely misunderstood though, because even though Craig is quiet and nerdy, he’s also one of the most insufferable, aggravating assholes Stan has ever met. He’s adamant on not trading, calls Stan a faggot for even offering to reciprocate, and his reasons for wanting to go to the gym are just as innocent as he is.
He’s not a bad guy though, underneath all the slurs and bitch face and middle fingers. He’s actually pretty decent looking, up until he opens his mouth at least. Not as big as Stan, but still fit and a lot taller. Craig’s okay, as long as you ignore the whole terrible personality thing. Stan figures it’s the reason he’s posting personals on Reddit instead of going outside like a normal person. He thinks even someone like Butters would lose their patience after getting called “faggot” and flipped off for the hundredth time that day. Fail your rep, wear anything other than ratty gray sweatpants, use soap that isn’t also combination degreaser and toothpaste – all crimes that might unleash the wicked, bigoted tongue of Craig.
Or in this case, because Stan doesn’t want to have sex in the small, cramped, mildewy, very public gym showers.
“Fuck off, douchebag! Don’t call me that just ‘cause I don’t wanna pull my dick out in the fucking locker room!” Stan huffs. “Can’t you keep it in your pants for like five fucking seconds?”
Craig just rolls his eyes and flicks him off as he leans back against the wall of lockers. “Whatever, you fucking faggot. Why are we even in here, anyways? You don’t even have to change.”
Stan gapes at him. “We are in here, you fucking faggot, because you pulled me in here and said–!”
His voice trails off awkwardly as a middle-aged man walks in and gives him a dirty glare.
God damn it, Craig! Now he’s probably going to get reported for committing a hate crime and banned. He just might, too, if Craig doesn’t stop trying to slap his ass when the old man isn’t looking in their direction. He smacks his hands away and heads for the exit, Craig following on his heels.
He feels gross and sticky. Normally he would at least rinse off before going home, but there’s no way he’s undressing in front of Craig, in public. He doesn’t need to be labeled a sex offender on top of being a bigot.
When they get back to Stan’s he’s immediately on him, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him in for a big sloppy kiss. Stan allows it, bag strap sliding off his shoulder as his arms come up to wrap around his skinny middle. Craig pulls back and looks at him, and for a second Stan thinks he’s going to say something, but then he just leans his head back in and licks a long line over the dried salt on his neck. Craig moans. Maybe Stan does too, but who’s keeping track.
They break apart to stumble the five feet to the couch, Stan falling on his butt when Craig pushes him down lightly. He wastes no time dropping down onto the floor in front of him, grabbing his knees and forcing them apart. He slides his hands up his legs, sneaking them up his shorts and leaving them to rest on his thighs. He lolls his head onto Stan’s knee, and looks at the growing tent in front of him in a way Stan might call “hot”, if he wasn’t so averse to giving Craig any sort of compliment.
It was both parts intimidating and embarrassing when they first met. Craig hadn’t broken his bitch face or monotone the whole night, not even when he was going for his deadlift PR. But the minute they’d gotten back to Stan’s place and he’d gotten on his knees and nuzzled his face straight into his sweaty crotch and took a big whiff, he’d emerged looking like a blushing shoujo manga protagonist.
It was kind of…hot, seeing the guy who had just called him a pussy for lifting with a belt be reduced to flustered maiden just from sniffing his sweaty balls.
The spell only lasts for as long as he keeps his mouth shut, though. “How long were you going to leave these on for, Stan? Gross. They’re dripping wet.” Craig peels his boxer briefs apart from his shed basketball shorts and Stan tries to not get affected by Craig’s goading. They’re not even that damp, for Christ’s sake. He also tries not to get mad and snap back, refusing to fall for Craig’s baiting this early.
Luckily, he doesn’t say anything more as he holds his worn briefs in his hands and lets his eyes fall shut as he brings them up to his nose. Stan can only take in this shameless display for a minute or so before he has to look away, eyes flitting to the TV against the wall as he listens to him noisily inhale and moan. It feels like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be – the way Craig’s eyes roll back as he noses at his damp garments, the way he posits his mouth over the crotch seam and sucks lightly – it’s all too fucking much. After about five minutes of watching him try to suck out his daily sodium requirement from his worn briefs from the corner of his eye, Craig finally tosses them aside, puts his hands back on his knees and spreads his legs apart again roughly.
It’s nothing new by this point, but he still can’t help the instinctual blush and need to close his legs when Craig leans over his crotch and takes a deep breath.
“Fuck, it stinks,” he moans.
Stan narrows his eyes at him but he isn’t even looking, he has his eyes closed, nose buried deep in his pubes. The sight makes him blush again. His exhale hits Stan’s skin in a puff of warm air.
“Did you even take a shower after you got back from the gym?” he says. “You’re fucking disgusting.”
Stan clenches his jaw as he tries to keep his mouth shut. He might be a little more offended, if Craig hadn’t begged him to at least get an Uber home instead of walking if he wasn’t going to let him suck him off at the gym.
He looks filthy like this, big tall guy on his knees on the floor, eyes closed and brows scrunched in self-serving pleasure as he takes in deep lungfuls of Stan’s musk. His own erection is clearly visible through his sweatpants, straining the front obscenely.
He’s never seen Craig’s dick before, but he can tell it’s pretty big. It’s kind of a shame that he only wants to bottom. But maybe that’s God’s way of balancing out the evil in the world. He doesn’t even want to imagine what kind of top Craig would be.
And if he’s being honest, it’s a little cute. Craig may be a disgusting, rude asshole, but Stan would be a liar if he said he wasn’t a little into it.
“Well, you clearly didn’t shower.” Craig takes a particularly deep inhale and ghosts his lips over his cock, which has been straining painfully under all the attention. “Did you at least clean under your foreskin today?” He rubs the head of Stan’s cock gingerly, moving his thumb and forefinger like he’s examining a fresh diaper or something.
Despite the hurtful treatment, Stan twitches in his touch and a little whine slips out before he can stop himself. Craig looks up at him, and touches his dick–finally– just for a few loose strokes before he rolls his foreskin down with two fingers. Then back up, then back down. Back up. He sticks his finger inside the hood, runs it along his head before lightly ghosting over the slit. Stan has to bite his lip but that only holds back the outright moaning, not the little whimpers, and it does nothing to keep his hips from twitching up or his toes from curling.
Craig places a small, dry kiss on the tip of his cock and looks up at him again, seemingly wanting a reply.
Stan just sighs. “Yes, Craig, I washed my dick today.”
“I don’t believe you,” he snaps back immediately. “This shit stinks.” He closes his eyes, nose twitching elegantly in the air as he braces his cock against the palm of his hand and runs his nose up the length, making Stan’s hips jump up again at the slight contact. Eyes still closed, he opens his mouth just the tiniest bit to wrap his lips around the head, tongue following the groove of his slit.
“And it tastes bad. Nasty.” His fifth grade vocabulary and attitude somehow becomes a little more bearable as he gives Stan’s cock another kiss, wetter this time, slurps over the whole head.
“You need to learn how to take a bath.” He takes another contented inhale before he lolls his tongue out and sinks down slowly, taking Stan all the way in, looking up at him under lidded eyes as he hollows his cheeks and laves his tongue against the ridge.
“F-fuck you, Craig,” he chokes out. “I might–might believe you if you weren’t, hah, trying to choke yourself on my, fuck, cock right now.”
He smirks, but doesn’t reply, just holds the eye contact for a second longer as he continues bobbing his head up and down his cock slowly. Stan lets his own gaze linger for a second after Craig closes his eyes, then throws his head back and moans.
Stan’s not huge, he’s like, average size, and for a pro-fag like Craig it’s easy work to get the whole thing in his mouth and work on it like he’s a starving Ethiopian. His fingers make slight indents into Stan’s thighs, holding them apart as he bobs his head thoroughly and sloppily over his length. When he’s got the whole thing in his mouth, buried nose deep in his pubes, he stops for a second and inhales, slutty and indulgent.
He pulls off with a lewd sound, sucking tight as he does. “Fuck, you stink. Least you got a good workout in today, huh? Get any PR’s?” He starts sniffing and licking at the creases of Stan’s thighs.
He groans and slides down further on the couch, widening his legs and bending more in half. “N-no, you know I didn’t.”
“Hmm. That’s a shame,” Craig says. “I was gonna reward you by letting you come in my mouth.” He tilts his head so he can get better access to his balls and starts his little routine of sniff, kiss, lick. Sniff, kiss, lick.
Stan decides to play along. Craig has never not begged for cum in his mouth. “Oh? What–what do I get, then?”
“You’re gonna have to come around my tongue instead.” He tilts his head further and uses his nose to press up under his balls, noses along his taint. His voice is breathier when he looks back up at Stan and says, “Let me eat you out.”
Fuck yeah. But he hesitates, not forgetting how the first time he’d agreed too quickly, Craig had just spent twenty minutes sniffing and kitten-licking around his asshole, which admittedly hadn’t felt too bad except for Craig telling him how gross he tasted the entire time.
“Are you just gonna call me stinky again?”
Craig looks up at him from underneath his lashes. “But you are stinky, Stan. You smell like shit.” He closes his eyes, takes a deep inhale and moans.
“You’re fucking nasty, and you taste gross, too.” He relaxes his tongue and licks a single, wet line over his hole, making them both moan.
“Fuck off, Craig!” But he reaches underneath to hold himself open, which Craig acknowledges by bringing both hands to his hole and stretching it just the tiniest bit wider. He thankfully doesn’t reply, too focused instead on lapping up the dried sweat from around his asshole, licking with intent and pressure, then pursing his lips around the spit and sweat laden hair. He eats him out like it’s the first meal he’s had in days.
He withdraws his tongue and rests his forehead against Stan’s thigh. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he pants. “I can tell you were waiting for it all night.” He leans back in for another wide lick, like he can’t help himself.
“Is that why you were giving me eyes instead of spotting me properly? You were thinking about me eating your sweaty ass out?”
Jesus Christ. Even when he’s making Stan’s ass feel good he still has to be a giant pain in it.
“Fuck off, douchebag! Are you, fuck, sure you’re not thinking about yourself?”
Craig taps his finger on his chin exaggeratedly. “Of course I’m sure. You even begged me to suck your dick in the locker room. Remember?”
Stan shoves at his head. “That was you, you stupid asshole!”
“Yeah, that was me,” Craig just laughs as he dodges his hand. “Don’t know what kind of faggot turns down a free blowjob, by the way,” he says, back to business. He grabs his cock and starts stroking, places a small kiss on his ballsack, then one on his cockhead, then one right next to his asshole.
“Even though you know I would have cleaned you up real good. You know that, right?”
He starts tonguing at his entrance again with intent, and Stan is so sick of fighting him he shuts up and relaxes and lets it happen, lets Craig’s tongue slip in and lick at his insides. He grabs big palmfuls of Stan’s ass and squishes his face between them, pulling him further onto his tongue.
Stan lets out a pained noise at the loss of stimulation, mourning the loss of his hand. His own fingers twitch with the need to stroke himself, but Craig catches his hand and pins it under his own.
“What the fuck, dude!” he whines. “Let go!”
“I’ll let you touch your gross, stinky cock if you do me a favor too,” Craig breathes.
Stan whines again, tries to free his hand from Craig’s stupidly strong grip. “What the fuck? What do you want?”
“Let me suck you off at the gym next time.”
This is not an idea Stan can see going well, like at all. He likes that gym, it’s close by and has everything he needs while not being too crowded or expensive. He really doesn’t want to get kicked out and arrested for indecent exposure. But all he can think about right now is his dick, so hard it hurts, he’s so close it hurts, his head is so hazy, Craig’s tongue so soft and wet against his sensitive parts – he just nods and mumbles out a vague noise of consent. He can probably try to weasel his way out of this one later, under the technicality of not actually having agreed to anything.
“I want to hear you say it,” Craig says. “‘Next time I’ll let Craig suck my gross, smelly cock at the gym.’”
God damn it, this fucking asshole.
“Fine, fine, you dickhead!” he groans. “You can suck my dick at the fucking gym next time–oh god, don’t stop–” he moans, when Craig finally withdraws from his ass and takes his cock back into his mouth, swallows around the whole thing, doesn’t even flinch when Stan bucks his hips up harshly and bumps the back of his throat, lets it happen as he tangles his hands roughly into his hair and holds his head down as he fucks into his mouth and unloads down his throat. Craig keeps swallowing around him as he comes, and for a few seconds after he does too, until Stan has to push him away with a soft whine.
He pulls off with a lewd, wet sound and smacks his lips exaggeratedly. Stan just lays there slumped on the couch as he tries to catch his breath. When it feels like he can think again, he shifts his eyes downwards towards Craig, who’s looking at him with a rather disgusted expression.
He gestures in his general area, knowing what the answer’s going to be but offering anyway. “You sure you don’t want me to–”
Craig stands up and tugs on his waistband in that awkward, self-conscious but trying not to act like it way that means he’s somehow managed to jerk himself off and come in his pants. “Yes, I’m sure I don’t want your germs on my dick, Stan. Who knows where that mouth’s been? I don’t want to turn into some sort of fag like you.”
Stan groans loudly, rolls his eyes and drops his face into a pillow. He aims a middle finger somewhere in his direction. “Good bye, Craig.”