Work Text:
Craig let out a tired groan as he glanced at the clock. The girls had gone back to Smashley's the night before and he was still too tired to miss them, yet. It'd come soon enough. As soon as it did he'd be back on his feet in an attempt to distract himself, working so he could take care of them. Right now though was the quiet moment of reprieve before it was actually time to get up and go on his jog. It meant he didn't have to power away his morning hard on, either. That sometimes seemed special, now-a-days.
He rolled over, spreading his legs to accommodate his hardening cock, dragging his hand down to push under his briefs. Craig doesn't plan to drag it out, doesn't need a deep fantasy as he pushes away his briefs and reaches for some lube to make it all a little easier. That was his original thought, anyway. But as he began to gently pull and tug, his eyes fell closed and his mind supplied the idea of somebody being there. They're undefined, laying off to the side maybe but close enough that if they were real he'd feel their warmth, their hands wrapped around his hardening cock, but Craig can work with it. Companionship isn't really that overrated. Even if this one is fictional.
His slides nicely over his flesh, the lube still a little chilly but he doesn't mind the shiver it creates up his spine, and Craig begins to breathe a little heavier. His muscles tensing as his climax builds. He let's himself imagines it's their hand, his vague imaginary companion's, tightening their grip and leaning in closer. They give a bit of pressure at the tip with their thumb and lean to kiss at his hip. Their other hand slides along his abdomen and traces the dips of his hips, and Craig moans out a quiet, "Bro."
Suddenly his imaginary companion is a lot less vague and his dick twitches in his hand. It startles him, but not enough to break the fantasy, his bro smiling up at him from where he's kissing Craig's hip. He lets out another quiet moan, still tentative about being loud in his home, and stutters out another short, "Bro." He knows his friend well enough to be able to pretend he knew what he'd do. His back arches as he imagines his bro scooting closer, fingers trailing down Craig's thighs. He'd love them, probably leaving more hickies than he should and Craig moans a little louder at the thought. His bro had always been about a good ass and set of legs and Craig flexes his muscles. His bro would appreciate that, he thinks, his second hand shooting up to his lips, knowing he was getting too loud.
He sits up as he feels the pressure building. He doesn't last like he used to. His imaginary bro doesn't seem to mind, fitted between his legs and framed by his thick thighs, lips dangerously close to Craig's cock. He doesn't think he can handle the idea of a blow job right now. His heart is already hammering because he's pretty sure he's over stepping so much but his cock is throbbing in his hands and there's no stopping the fact that he's going to imagine cumming all over his bro's face. He honestly wasn't sure if that was something his bro would be about. He wasn't sure how he'd even ask.
The anxiety was sneaking up on him and he tried to push it aside. Just a moment. Because the bro in his mind was smiling, and he could almost make out words in his bro's lovely voice and- Craig felt all his muscles tense and he arched up, pulling just a little harder as he came across his thighs and in his hands. His mouth hangs open, breathless, still quiet as he whimpers. Then Craig feels his muscles loosen, feeling limp as he flops back onto the bed. He uses his clean hand to run through his hair, closing his eyes and knowing he's going to have to think about this.
Except things are still a little fuzzy around the edges, his heart his hammering in that addictive way, and he feels sluggish. Especially his thoughts. Though, he's already got a vague notion building in the back of his head about rearranging his work out for a bit more focus on his glutes and that feels silly but he knows he can do it. The worry is there too, on the other side, and his clean hand tugs at his hair. He's got to meet up with his bro later for their run. The anxiety doesn't like that. He's not sure how he's going to look into his bro's eyes after just picturing cumming all over his face.
There's a light buzzing and Craig realizes he's saved by the bell. Sort of. He can focus on other things to avoid these feelings. He's good at that. Pushing it all aside to work. Do more. He pushes himself up, glancing back down at the drying mess, and mentally calculates how to rearrange his schedule to fit a shower in before the run this time. Better to focus on that. Even as he turns off the alarm on his phone to see a message from his bro already there and his heart does another stupid little jump. He usually is so quick to answer, so excited to talk to his bro. He can't, yet though, and runs away into the shower.