Overactive Imagination (A OneCreep fic)
I woke up and immediately started writing this and it only took like an hour holy crap
FOR SASSY-LESBIAN-LORAX because of this post
Now she owes me her soul.
WARNING: NSFW, SHOTA????, frottage
Oneler x Creep-ler
It smelled like shit.
He wasn’t sure why they thought it was so fun. They’d made him try it, and he’d ended up a choking mess. But hell, if it didn’t make them look cool.
Oneler liked to light up behind Cabin 20 because he knew those nerdy science kids wouldn’t tell, and Pimp was a bit of a smoker himself. Sometimes he’d even join him.
“Did he do that?”
He was startled by the sound of his voice, deep but soft. He hadn’t gotten his voice yet, puberty still wrecking his vocal chords and making them a jumble of octaves and tones. He cleared his throat and put a hand to his bruised cheek as if he were just resting his head in his palm. “It was an accident.”
Oneler hummed, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He took a long drag, and he watched the smoke caress the crisp forest air before disappearing. “Is that why you’re not in there right now? Because it was an accident?”
Oneler was smart. Too smart.
“No,” he huffed, but it came out as a squeak. Thanks puberty. He could see Oneler’s smirk in the moonlight.
“You can sleep on my side tonight,” he said, and it was loud in the quiet of the woods, past chirping crickets and the hissing creak just yards away. He watched the boy silently, the way his body hunched next to the tree, his ankles crossed. He looked like a model for a skateboarding company.
“Did you hear me, Creeps?”
“Yes,” he answered too quickly, his voice giving again. It made Oneler smile wider.
“Enthusiastic,” he uttered against his cigarette, inhaling it gently this time.
What was it about him that drew him in, he’d never understand. Maybe he wanted to be like him, with every camper cooing at his feet.
Well, not literally, because some of them actually did do that. Especially those girls from South Stitch. But he just liked to be around him. He made sure Nightmare didn’t mess with him, made sure everyone was having fun. Maybe if he stood close to him, he’d be cool too.
And then there was smoke in his face.
He coughed wildly, flapping his hoodie’s sleeves in front of his face, but they slapped against Oneler’s face instead.
His sleeves drooped against his cabinmate’s cheeks and fell back to his wrists, and he stared into that face, glowing yellow eyes and playfully serious lips.
“Are you waiting for me, or are you taking your time?” he asked, an arm resting on the tree trunk above him. He could feel his teeth chattering. He opened his mouth agape so One wouldn’t hear them. “Or are you scared of me?”
“No!” he blurted out, again too quick on the draw. He drew his arms against his chest nervously, but quickly folded them to look cool. “I’m taking my time, duh.”
“You’re taking too long.”
His lips were cold, and his mouth tasted like burning ash and tar, but it was far beyond anything he’d thought of alone in the showers at night. It wasn’t as if they could get away with anything in the cabin, not in that bunkerbed. They had to take their urges elsewhere, and this was Oneler’s elsewhere. He was in his space, and he didn’t regret it. Maybe he’d subconsciously planned it this way.
“Stop thinking,” he growled against his lips, dropping the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and crushing it with his shoe. “This is what you want, right?”
“Yes,” he squeaked. Yes, he wanted to make out with the coolest guy at camp. Yes, he wanted to be around him in the middle of the night, because he knew Nightmare wouldn’t touch him. He would.
His hands were suddenly pushing up his hoodie and t-shirt, and his whole body gave a nervous twitch. It was cold outside, and his hands were freezing, but against his warm stomach they burned. He opened his mouth wider, and One took that as a beautiful invitation, pressed against him harder, tongue going deeper. This was weird and sloppy and he wasn’t sure what he should have been doing, but he let his brain shut off and enjoy the feel of the coolest guy at camp rubbing all over him and kissing him.
His leg was between his own suddenly, knee rubbing at his crotch, and he buckled a little bit. Goddamn it, puberty. His shorts tented, and Oneler rubbed harder.
Fooling around against a tree in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly how he imagined his first time with Oneler would be. Not that he imagined rose petals and candles either. But he could have done without the nasty taste of tobacco and splintering bark tearing up his back.
A hand dipped into his skinny jeans, and he was so thankful it’d warmed up against his stomach first. He’d rather not have icicle fingers on his dick. The other hand undid his button and zipper before moving to their own.
He gulped as Oneler pulled his own erection from his pants, red and dripping just like his. He’d never seen another dick like that in real life. Well, sometimes they went skinny dipping, but that was different. And he’d seen porn before, but this was right here and right now and he could touch this one.
He moved forward, and they pressed together, making him let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. This feeling was heaven, and then he started rubbing.
Oneler hummed and furrowed his eyebrows, taking both of them into one hand while the other trapped him against the tree. His legs were shaking, and he was sure he was going to fall down without One’s leg keeping him up. His hands nervously grasped at Oneler’s torn up t-shirt, balling them in his fists as he watched him slide their cocks together.
He’d only dreamed of this.
There was no way this could last as long as he wanted it to, not with Oneler’s mouth on him again, not with his hand squeezing and stroking. Their breaths were hot against the cold air, and puffs of white escaped their kiss, and that only made them delve deeper. Spit was trailing down his chin but he couldn’t care in the least. His hands were slowly inching up to One’s shoulders until they were at his neck, to his cheeks, and he was pulling him closer because this was exactly what he wanted.
He wanted this so much.
He could feel the pressure in his insides growing, making his body jerk and shiver and jump. He could feel Oneler doing the same, crushing against him desperately. He was going to-
A hand slapped over his mouth, warm and gloved. He looked up, and Oneler was staring at him with amused yellow eyes.
“I suggest,” he whispered, “taking that to the showers.”
The cabin was quiet and dark, and just behind him he could hear Ink mumbling in his sleep, rolling gently over to Disty. Nightmare was silently curled into himself, arms folded.
He stared at Oneler, shifted slowly away from him and opening the sheet entrance to their bunkerbed. His hands flew to his crotch to hide his wood, his legs curling up.
“Go on,” Oneler hushed, his eyes tired and gentle. He slowly scooted down the mattress to the entrance of the fort, his hands still hiding his embarrassment. He gulped down his frustrated tears and ushered forth the smallest hint of bravery.
“I didn’t,” he hissed, “I didn’t say anything, did I?”
Oneler was silent for a moment, and suddenly all of his fears were crashing down on him. He felt his lips trembling.
“Nothing they’ll ever know about.”
He felt a sob threatening to escape him, but Oneler was already there, kissing away whatever doubts and anxieties he could have had. It was small and quick, but it was enough to make his eyes stop watering and his heart start beating like a war drum. One nudged him out of the bunkerbed with his foot, and those yellow eyes were sly, just like they’d been in his dream. This wasn’t a dream.
“Take care of that now, and I’ll take care of it again later.”
He’d never ran so fast.
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