Smiles. Tazercraft weed fic. I'm too tired to say something clever or funny here, just enjoy :)
The room is smoky, with afternoon light pouring in through the half-opened windows, setting their bedroom warmly.
Mike's lying back against the headboard with a lapful of Pac. His hand tightens on the more petite man's jaw, holding him still and smiling lazily at him. Mike raises the lit blunt to his lips, takes a long drag, pulls it away, and sets it down in their ashtray. He leans forward and presses his and Pac's lips together, sharing the smoke between them as they kiss sloppily. They're both very high already, floaty and lethargic. They're getting to Mike's favorite part of the smoke sesh, though, where Pac stops trying to hide how soaked he is and starts getting needy. Mike likes having Pac needy. It happens every time, and Mike has him trained to get horny when they smoke. They always end up fucking anyway. It just feels so lovely like this when everything is warm and soft. Mike likes making Pac feel good.
Pac's dressed for it, too, in cute little neon green lace panties and one of Mike's shirts. Mike himself is just in his boxers.
They pull apart from the kiss, and Pac whines softly, hands sliding down from where they'd been resting on Mike's shoulders and resting on his waist. He squirms in Mike's lap and leans down to kiss him again, licking into his mouth and digging his nails into the fat at Mike's waist. Mike grunts softly and shifts them so that Pac is straddling his thigh. Mike grabs the half-smoked blunt and holds it to Pac's lips. Pac breathes in, and his eyes flutter. Mike feels heat shoot through him, and his leg presses up between Pac's thighs meanly. Pac moans softly and grinds down; he's fucking soaked; Mike can feel it through the thin fabric separating them. Mike's starting to fill out in his boxers, and honestly, the arousal buzzing under his skin is a pleasant background noise.
Mike pushes Pac to lie down. Holding himself up on his elbows, Pac looks up at Mike with a confused head tilt. Mike grabs the ashtray and blunt and sets them next to Pac.
"Smoke, I'll take care of this," Mike says and drags his knuckle feather light against Pac's panty-covered cunt. There's a considerable wet spot that Mike plans on making ten times worse. Pac smiles dopily at him and nods, grabbing a pillow to lean on and getting comfortable. Mike settles himself between Pac's legs, pulling his full one to rest over his shoulder and using his hand to pin the other to the bed. Pac groans softly, and his head falls back. Mike watches him take a long drag from the blunt and pets two fingers up and down Pac's pussy, just tracing the shape of his folds and lightly pressing against his hard little cock. He leans down and presses a soft kiss against his dick, feels it twitch under his lips and smiles.
"Mikey," Pac's already moaning, all breathy and soft. Mike laughs a little and drags his tongue against the wet spot on Pac's underwear, enjoying the little gasp it drags from his soulmate's mouth and the fuzz of pleasure through their link. He laps at the soft fabric and lets Pac squirm against him, needy for more. He keeps going until the panties are sticking like a second skin to Pac's cunt. He pulls back and grins, reaching blindly for his communicator and snapping a picture just for him. Pac whimpers, having finished the blunt, and covers his face with his hands. Mike grins wolfishly and tugs the underwear off.
Mike doesn't feel like fucking Pac, he hopes he understands. So he leans in and locks his lips around Pac's little dick, sucking and lapping at the sensitive little bundle. Pac's back arches, and his hands fly to Mike's hair, tightening in the stands and twisting hard. Mike smiles and presses two thick fingers slowly inside of him. Pac groans and clenches around the intrusion, melting back against the bed and letting himself go to the pleasure Mike is offering him.
Pac is so high that he can't talk or do anything but moan, giggle, and squirm. Mike pays careful attention to their link and pushes through the haze to keep track of Pac's enjoyment. Usually, this goes well; they both enjoy intoxication a lot, but Mike would hate for this to get spoiled because Pac gets overwhelmed. Pac is a mess above him, mouth hanging open and eyes shut tight. Mike laughs and doubles down on his efforts.
The weed makes everything better. Mike brings Pac to orgasm after orgasm. Pac's muscular thighs clench around his head, and Mike groans softly, three fingers stretching him out now. Mike pulls away when Pac comes down from his sixth or seventh orgasm of the afternoon. He presses one last kiss to Pac's twitchy and sensitive cunt and sits up, wiping Pac's slick off his mouth and grinning at him.
"Good?" he asks, his hands running affectionately up and down Pac's stomach. He likes the way the muscles clench and twitch under his hands. Pac opens his eyes and looks at Mike hazily, his mind gone to the drugs and pleasure. He smiles and nods slowly, stretching out like a lounging cat and motioning for Mike to lay down.
Mike smiles and obliges, laying his head on Pac's chest and his arms around his waist.
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Big fan of Feral Tweek. Big fan of Imp Tweek. Big fan of Tweek, dead at age twenty. Big fan of Normal Person Tweek. Big fan of Shaking Crying Throwing Up Tweek. Big fan of Barbarian Tweek. Big Fan of Wonder Tweek. Big fan of Robin Hood Tweek. Big Fan of Outlaw Tweek. Big Fan of Warboy Tweek. Big fan of Tweek with his boyfriend. Big fan of Tweek standing in a field alone. Big Fan of canon Tweek.
Hell, I think I might just like the guy.
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