The source of all the pain and strife can be traced to the same source. It’s insidious and bewildering, and despite being such an innocuous thing it boasts a stranglehold over not only Tweek but Craig as well. Out in the open yet concealed in plain sight, Craig knows everything comes down to the overactive hormonal gland that swells and throbs under the delicate skin of Tweek’s pale neck. His hand crawls up the length of Tweek’s abdomen. Their breath rises and falls together evenly, but it’s heavy and desperate as though each gulp of air might not be enough oxygen. Craig moves slowly, intentionally. He can feel Tweek’s throat against the side of his cheek. He can feel it each time he swallows. It’s a trifling movement, meaningless at face value. But Craig hones in on it anyway. Nothing is insignificant right now, and this is especially so when the heat begins pooling deep and low inside him all over again. Tweek’s chest trembles beneath his hand. The beating of his heart fires steadily against Craig’s palm like a piston in an engine. Craig doesn’t stop to relish in that feeling, even though the simple notion of Tweek’s heart slamming into his ribs like that as a direct result of his touch affects him. His hand skates through the small handful of hairs that litter the center of Tweek’s chest and finally comes to rest under his jaw.
He breathes in deeply, letting the dizzying aroma flood his mind and innervate his actions. His hand lingers softly over Tweek’s throat. It’s near his own face now, which stays curled into the gentle crook of his omega’s neck. He’s close enough to bite. The temptation is so strong. Craig rests his arm over Tweek’s chest. It’s neither slight nor broad– it fits nicely beneath him. They’re closer than before, and it’s by Craig’s design. Even so, he craves more proximity. His second arm coils beneath the other body in his bed and wraps tightly around it. He pulls Tweek’s entire being closer until their torsos are flush and his cock feels squeezed tightly into the small of Tweek’s back. A bit of pooling sweat lingers there and slicks the underside of Craig’s shaft. It’s good but it’s not good enough. Still, for the time being, he’ll take it. He doesn’t thrust at all– he doesn’t have to. Tweek has already begun squirming again. With a few intentional puffs of breath along Tweek’s heating skin, Craig presses the tips of his fingers into Tweek’s supple throat. He savors the bob of his adam’s apple as Tweek feebly gulps and revels in the little squeaks and moans the new pressure draws out of him. He pushes his digits a little deeper into the flesh beneath them.
“It’s going to be okay, Tweek,” Craig promises.
It’s a promise to Tweek, but it’s also a promise to himself. Everything is going to be okay. Tweek tries to nod in understanding, but Craig’s grip is a bit too tight. He can only squirm.
“We’re going to get you through this,” Craig continues in a low, husky voice. “This is all new to you. That must feel so scary.”
“Mmnph… ‘m not scared,” Tweek grunts out just to be contrary.
Craig releases a depraved sort of growl into the shoulder below his chin. Tweek can be as brave in the face of natural terror all he likes. Craig pushes his hips forward in one forceful shove until the compression on his throbbing cock is almost painful. He holds Tweek’s body close to his own and leaves him no room to wriggle free.
“Do you feel that?” Craig rasps.
“Ahhh, Craig…”
It was a yes or no question and Tweek hasn’t answered properly.
“Answer me,” Craig rasps out the demand.
“Y…yes…”
He grinds harder, just for good measure. He holds Tweek’s jaw in place and makes it perfectly clear that escaping the grip is not an option. His cock throbs into the small of Tweek’s back, harsh and pulsating with a vigorous need.
“Good,” Craig affirms rather than praises.
He nudges the side of Tweek’s throat with his nose and exhales a hot breath that warms the flesh. His hands start to roam from their stranglehold but it’s still apparent that Tweek won’t be squirming away any time soon. From his body language, though, there’s little chance that he’d be trying to be anywhere else anyway. One of Craig’s hands slides down the length of Tweek’s torso yet again. His blunt nails rake lightly along the heated skin. He moves slowly and strategically, just so he can draw out the sensation of Tweek’s body heaving beneath his hand. Finally, in time, he comes to rest along the jut of Tweek’s hip. He holds his grip there, urging the body under his power to softly rock against him. It’s a minuscule movement but it’s everything. There’s just enough friction against his swollen cock and just enough motion between them to simulate the rolling sensation of copulation.
“I could fuck you right now,” Craig states, and it earns him a shuddery little gasp that rocks Tweek’s body back into his own.
So much is woven into that simple phrase. It’s an observation, first and foremost. He absolutely and without a doubt could plunge himself rather easily into Tweek’s slick, inviting hole. It’s also an offering– something of a polite suggestion, in a twisted way. The notion is almost as if to suggest Tweek may need some assistance and the only thing in the entire world that could help is Craig’s throbbing dick. More than even just these things, it’s a threat. Very little could possibly stop Craig if he decides right here and now to fuck deeply into him. But most of all and beyond all these things, it’s a warning. It’s a reminder that Tweek should not take this situation lightly. Craig needs him to know that this option sits plainly on the table. He could absolutely fuck Tweek right now.
“Mmmm, please… please…” Tweek manages to squeak out between breathy whines.
“No,” Craig speaks firmly from his chest, even though his voice isn’t above a whisper. “You don’t want that.”
His actions belie his words, though, and Craig pushes his cock harder into Tweek’s spine. The oozing slick from between Tweek’s legs leaks in a continuous river of vulgar fluids and slathers itself all over the tops of Craig’s thighs as they rock against each other. It’s so fucking hard to resist. His dick feels like it might burst if he doesn’t get some kind of relief so he uselessly grinds it with a bit more purpose. He’s desperate for any sort of friction even though he knows this won’t be good enough. Craig can tell he’s likely bruising Tweek’s hips but he retains his white-knuckled grip and rolls their bodies together in the same uneasy but repetitive motion.
“I do,” Tweek insists. “I do, Craig… Augh, help me… Please, you have to help me…!”
This breaks something in Craig. Deep from his belly, a grisly sound begins to emerge. It grows with his frustration until it resounds in a husky throttle and he can feel his teeth bared. Craig roughly yanks Tweek and flips him over onto his back. In a swift motion, he pins him into the mattress and holds him down by the shoulder as he looms above him. Tweek’s face contorts in a messy array of emotions, ranging all the way from a surprised sort of terror to a warped glimmer of excitement and greed. Craig’s chest heaves under the stress of resistance. He can feel the spittle that dots his lips and the weight of his dick between his legs feels heavier than ever with anticipation. He snarls down at Tweek, torn between holding true to his word and giving in to his nature. He wants to bite into Tweek’s neck and feel the soft skin against his teeth. He wants to thrust hard and fast into Tweek’s tight, velvety hole. He wants to feel the way he knows Tweek’s body would writhe and bend to his every whim. He wants to taste the salt on his skin and listen to the breathy gasps for air and see the way their bodies could so readily latch onto one another. He wants to smell the bouquet of pheromones and the stench of dirty, filthy, unencumbered sex. But he can’t do any of that. So instead he trembles above Tweek’s slim, sculpted form and dominates him in the only way left remaining.
“Can’t you see I’m fucking helping you?!” Craig booms at him.
Tweek flinches, but it’s hard to tell if that’s in response of just his natural state. Craig doubles down and forces his shoulders harder into the soft pile of fabrics. A few gurgles slip out of Tweek and he squirms uncomfortably but otherwise doesn’t resist. Craig’s muscles clench and burn throughout all his limbs. He can feel himself fading fast. Tweek is exactly where every fiber of his body tells him he needs him. His body acts of its own volition and his terrible, angry cock instinctually aligns itself with Tweek’s pulsing hole. It’s so soft, so impossibly wet and warm and their bodies both mutually beg and plead and cry out for merciful relief. Craig’s knees threaten to give out on him. The overwhelming and gratifying sensation of Tweek’s slippery fluids flooding all over his head makes his vision blur and his breath hitch.
“Please, Craig… please…!” Tweek’s eyes are entirely out of focus and it’s more than apparent he’s hardly cognizant of what he’s saying. “Just fuck me, hrngh, god, fuck me…!”
Rather than encourage him to proceed, this manages to snap Craig out of the lustful stupor enough to nearly get a grasp on reality again. He’s still so riddled with hormones and frustration, though. He growls and slams Tweek’s body again. One hand finds its way back to Tweek’s neck and squeezes it there. Not enough to bring him bodily harm, but enough to command and force him to shut the fuck up.
“You can’t fucking say that, Tweek!” Craig grits out and pushes into his windpipe. “Don’t you fucking get it? If you say that, I’ll fucking do it! Do you even hear yourself?!”
Tweek’s hands scramble to wrap themselves feebly around Craig’s wrist. Tears from strain form in the corners of his eyes and Craig can feel him struggling. The part of Craig that can still feel any amount of human decency is hit with a nauseous wave of guilt. He relinquishes his chokehold and leans back. The hand that once threatened to steal the opportunity for oxygen from Tweek rises upwards and he drags it across his face.
“God damn it,” he hisses while Tweek gasps for air. “You made me go and lose control of my goddamn emotions.”
Tweek splutters and moans, then wipes his drool off on the back of his wrist. His expression is like an oil slick– it’s impossible to get a solid read on its finite qualities. It distorts with every breath he takes, warping from furious to frightened to compliant to confused. Finally, he catches his breath and speaks.
“You’re an asshole, Craig,” Tweek informs him plainly.
And it’s true. Craig entirely agrees with the assessment. He won’t refute it, but it still stings in its validity. He grunts, hoping that it signals neither assent nor rebuttal. He sits back on his heels just to pull away from the temptation of Tweek’s body. But despite that and despite Craig’s uncouth behavior, Tweek bends his knees and angles his hips up towards Craig. The mouth-watering aroma wafts around Craig and he can’t help but lick his lips and let the hungry dribbles of saliva pool in his mouth. He struggles to gulp it down.
“Yeah, well… you’re out of control,” Craig snips back.
Even though he’s just berated Tweek, Craig lets his arms drape lazily around Tweek’s legs and presses them tight against his own torso. His fingertips trace idle lines along the musculature and cause the fine hairs there to stand on end. Tweek’s hips rotate in a quivering jitter, sneaking ever closer to the heat between Craig’s thighs as if he has no sense of authority over his own body.
“Urgh, you said you’d help me,” Tweek whines, back to his frantic state and all former transgressions clearly forgotten at the moment.
“I did say that,” Craig agrees because it is factually correct.
Giving Tweek what he’s asking for, though, has the terrifying possibility of ruining both their lives. He kneads the taut flesh in his hands as he fumbles through his possibilities. Focusing on deliberate breathing continues to be the only way to retain his sensibility, so Craig works diligently to maintain even, calculated aspirations. He wants so desperately to soothe Tweek. He wants in an equally desperate measure to throw it all away and ravish him until neither of them can walk or think or function beyond the vulgarity. The whole situation is so entirely unfair. He can’t even properly articulate his paltry woes since he’s so tunnel-visioned. Craig finds his thoughts wandering back to earlier in the day when he held Tweek close to him.
“I, angh, please, Craig… I need this to stop,” Tweek pleads in earnest.
There’s no heat behind the words. It’s a genuine, vulnerable cry for help. Something sharp pokes at Craig between his ribs and swells into something that manages to feel like it’s both crushing and bubbling over until it overwhelms him entirely. He doesn’t wholly recognize it at first, but it’s affection and sympathy and weakness all wound up into a clumsy package.
“Oh, honey…” he croons tenderly and dips his head towards Tweek’s knees. “You need relief.”
“I do… Augh, Craig, I do…”
Craig hums and presses a wet kiss to the inside of one of those creamy, trembling thighs. The pheromones are so strong Craig can’t resist the urge to sink his teeth into the flesh. He feels so light-headed but he works on instinct alone so his state of mind feels almost irrelevant. With only the slightest struggle, he’s able to hold back enough to merely graze his teeth over the sumptuous, salty flesh. His back arches and his eyes roll back while Tweek’s hips begin to buck a bit more erratically again. He’s not sure what in the hell is possessing him to work his tongue as he does, but he laves it lower and lower in a series of wet ribbons until his nose finds itself just below Tweek’s balls. He heaves a shaky exhale hotly against Tweek’s drenched opening and drinks in the luscious aroma of pheromones and sex and the piquant notes that mark it distinctly as Tweek. Craig urges those tense legs to fall further open and whispers a delicate promise softly into the flood.
Re: Tweek/Craig, ABO, overstimulation
The source of all the pain and strife can be traced to the same source. It’s insidious and bewildering, and despite being such an innocuous thing it boasts a stranglehold over not only Tweek but Craig as well. Out in the open yet concealed in plain sight, Craig knows everything comes down to the overactive hormonal gland that swells and throbs under the delicate skin of Tweek’s pale neck. His hand crawls up the length of Tweek’s abdomen. Their breath rises and falls together evenly, but it’s heavy and desperate as though each gulp of air might not be enough oxygen. Craig moves slowly, intentionally. He can feel Tweek’s throat against the side of his cheek. He can feel it each time he swallows. It’s a trifling movement, meaningless at face value. But Craig hones in on it anyway. Nothing is insignificant right now, and this is especially so when the heat begins pooling deep and low inside him all over again. Tweek’s chest trembles beneath his hand. The beating of his heart fires steadily against Craig’s palm like a piston in an engine. Craig doesn’t stop to relish in that feeling, even though the simple notion of Tweek’s heart slamming into his ribs like that as a direct result of his touch affects him. His hand skates through the small handful of hairs that litter the center of Tweek’s chest and finally comes to rest under his jaw.
He breathes in deeply, letting the dizzying aroma flood his mind and innervate his actions. His hand lingers softly over Tweek’s throat. It’s near his own face now, which stays curled into the gentle crook of his omega’s neck. He’s close enough to bite. The temptation is so strong. Craig rests his arm over Tweek’s chest. It’s neither slight nor broad– it fits nicely beneath him. They’re closer than before, and it’s by Craig’s design. Even so, he craves more proximity. His second arm coils beneath the other body in his bed and wraps tightly around it. He pulls Tweek’s entire being closer until their torsos are flush and his cock feels squeezed tightly into the small of Tweek’s back. A bit of pooling sweat lingers there and slicks the underside of Craig’s shaft. It’s good but it’s not good enough. Still, for the time being, he’ll take it. He doesn’t thrust at all– he doesn’t have to. Tweek has already begun squirming again. With a few intentional puffs of breath along Tweek’s heating skin, Craig presses the tips of his fingers into Tweek’s supple throat. He savors the bob of his adam’s apple as Tweek feebly gulps and revels in the little squeaks and moans the new pressure draws out of him. He pushes his digits a little deeper into the flesh beneath them.
“It’s going to be okay, Tweek,” Craig promises.
It’s a promise to Tweek, but it’s also a promise to himself. Everything is going to be okay. Tweek tries to nod in understanding, but Craig’s grip is a bit too tight. He can only squirm.
“We’re going to get you through this,” Craig continues in a low, husky voice. “This is all new to you. That must feel so scary.”
“Mmnph… ‘m not scared,” Tweek grunts out just to be contrary.
Craig releases a depraved sort of growl into the shoulder below his chin. Tweek can be as brave in the face of natural terror all he likes. Craig pushes his hips forward in one forceful shove until the compression on his throbbing cock is almost painful. He holds Tweek’s body close to his own and leaves him no room to wriggle free.
“Do you feel that?” Craig rasps.
“Ahhh, Craig…”
It was a yes or no question and Tweek hasn’t answered properly.
“Answer me,” Craig rasps out the demand.
“Y…yes…”
He grinds harder, just for good measure. He holds Tweek’s jaw in place and makes it perfectly clear that escaping the grip is not an option. His cock throbs into the small of Tweek’s back, harsh and pulsating with a vigorous need.
“Good,” Craig affirms rather than praises.
He nudges the side of Tweek’s throat with his nose and exhales a hot breath that warms the flesh. His hands start to roam from their stranglehold but it’s still apparent that Tweek won’t be squirming away any time soon. From his body language, though, there’s little chance that he’d be trying to be anywhere else anyway. One of Craig’s hands slides down the length of Tweek’s torso yet again. His blunt nails rake lightly along the heated skin. He moves slowly and strategically, just so he can draw out the sensation of Tweek’s body heaving beneath his hand. Finally, in time, he comes to rest along the jut of Tweek’s hip. He holds his grip there, urging the body under his power to softly rock against him. It’s a minuscule movement but it’s everything. There’s just enough friction against his swollen cock and just enough motion between them to simulate the rolling sensation of copulation.
“I could fuck you right now,” Craig states, and it earns him a shuddery little gasp that rocks Tweek’s body back into his own.
So much is woven into that simple phrase. It’s an observation, first and foremost. He absolutely and without a doubt could plunge himself rather easily into Tweek’s slick, inviting hole. It’s also an offering– something of a polite suggestion, in a twisted way. The notion is almost as if to suggest Tweek may need some assistance and the only thing in the entire world that could help is Craig’s throbbing dick. More than even just these things, it’s a threat. Very little could possibly stop Craig if he decides right here and now to fuck deeply into him. But most of all and beyond all these things, it’s a warning. It’s a reminder that Tweek should not take this situation lightly. Craig needs him to know that this option sits plainly on the table. He could absolutely fuck Tweek right now.
“Mmmm, please… please…” Tweek manages to squeak out between breathy whines.
“No,” Craig speaks firmly from his chest, even though his voice isn’t above a whisper. “You don’t want that.”
His actions belie his words, though, and Craig pushes his cock harder into Tweek’s spine. The oozing slick from between Tweek’s legs leaks in a continuous river of vulgar fluids and slathers itself all over the tops of Craig’s thighs as they rock against each other. It’s so fucking hard to resist. His dick feels like it might burst if he doesn’t get some kind of relief so he uselessly grinds it with a bit more purpose. He’s desperate for any sort of friction even though he knows this won’t be good enough. Craig can tell he’s likely bruising Tweek’s hips but he retains his white-knuckled grip and rolls their bodies together in the same uneasy but repetitive motion.
“I do,” Tweek insists. “I do, Craig… Augh, help me… Please, you have to help me…!”
This breaks something in Craig. Deep from his belly, a grisly sound begins to emerge. It grows with his frustration until it resounds in a husky throttle and he can feel his teeth bared. Craig roughly yanks Tweek and flips him over onto his back. In a swift motion, he pins him into the mattress and holds him down by the shoulder as he looms above him. Tweek’s face contorts in a messy array of emotions, ranging all the way from a surprised sort of terror to a warped glimmer of excitement and greed. Craig’s chest heaves under the stress of resistance. He can feel the spittle that dots his lips and the weight of his dick between his legs feels heavier than ever with anticipation. He snarls down at Tweek, torn between holding true to his word and giving in to his nature. He wants to bite into Tweek’s neck and feel the soft skin against his teeth. He wants to thrust hard and fast into Tweek’s tight, velvety hole. He wants to feel the way he knows Tweek’s body would writhe and bend to his every whim. He wants to taste the salt on his skin and listen to the breathy gasps for air and see the way their bodies could so readily latch onto one another. He wants to smell the bouquet of pheromones and the stench of dirty, filthy, unencumbered sex. But he can’t do any of that. So instead he trembles above Tweek’s slim, sculpted form and dominates him in the only way left remaining.
“Can’t you see I’m fucking helping you?!” Craig booms at him.
Tweek flinches, but it’s hard to tell if that’s in response of just his natural state. Craig doubles down and forces his shoulders harder into the soft pile of fabrics. A few gurgles slip out of Tweek and he squirms uncomfortably but otherwise doesn’t resist. Craig’s muscles clench and burn throughout all his limbs. He can feel himself fading fast. Tweek is exactly where every fiber of his body tells him he needs him. His body acts of its own volition and his terrible, angry cock instinctually aligns itself with Tweek’s pulsing hole. It’s so soft, so impossibly wet and warm and their bodies both mutually beg and plead and cry out for merciful relief. Craig’s knees threaten to give out on him. The overwhelming and gratifying sensation of Tweek’s slippery fluids flooding all over his head makes his vision blur and his breath hitch.
“Please, Craig… please…!” Tweek’s eyes are entirely out of focus and it’s more than apparent he’s hardly cognizant of what he’s saying. “Just fuck me, hrngh, god, fuck me…!”
Rather than encourage him to proceed, this manages to snap Craig out of the lustful stupor enough to nearly get a grasp on reality again. He’s still so riddled with hormones and frustration, though. He growls and slams Tweek’s body again. One hand finds its way back to Tweek’s neck and squeezes it there. Not enough to bring him bodily harm, but enough to command and force him to shut the fuck up.
“You can’t fucking say that, Tweek!” Craig grits out and pushes into his windpipe. “Don’t you fucking get it? If you say that, I’ll fucking do it! Do you even hear yourself?!”
Tweek’s hands scramble to wrap themselves feebly around Craig’s wrist. Tears from strain form in the corners of his eyes and Craig can feel him struggling. The part of Craig that can still feel any amount of human decency is hit with a nauseous wave of guilt. He relinquishes his chokehold and leans back. The hand that once threatened to steal the opportunity for oxygen from Tweek rises upwards and he drags it across his face.
“God damn it,” he hisses while Tweek gasps for air. “You made me go and lose control of my goddamn emotions.”
Tweek splutters and moans, then wipes his drool off on the back of his wrist. His expression is like an oil slick– it’s impossible to get a solid read on its finite qualities. It distorts with every breath he takes, warping from furious to frightened to compliant to confused. Finally, he catches his breath and speaks.
“You’re an asshole, Craig,” Tweek informs him plainly.
And it’s true. Craig entirely agrees with the assessment. He won’t refute it, but it still stings in its validity. He grunts, hoping that it signals neither assent nor rebuttal. He sits back on his heels just to pull away from the temptation of Tweek’s body. But despite that and despite Craig’s uncouth behavior, Tweek bends his knees and angles his hips up towards Craig. The mouth-watering aroma wafts around Craig and he can’t help but lick his lips and let the hungry dribbles of saliva pool in his mouth. He struggles to gulp it down.
“Yeah, well… you’re out of control,” Craig snips back.
Even though he’s just berated Tweek, Craig lets his arms drape lazily around Tweek’s legs and presses them tight against his own torso. His fingertips trace idle lines along the musculature and cause the fine hairs there to stand on end. Tweek’s hips rotate in a quivering jitter, sneaking ever closer to the heat between Craig’s thighs as if he has no sense of authority over his own body.
“Urgh, you said you’d help me,” Tweek whines, back to his frantic state and all former transgressions clearly forgotten at the moment.
“I did say that,” Craig agrees because it is factually correct.
Giving Tweek what he’s asking for, though, has the terrifying possibility of ruining both their lives. He kneads the taut flesh in his hands as he fumbles through his possibilities. Focusing on deliberate breathing continues to be the only way to retain his sensibility, so Craig works diligently to maintain even, calculated aspirations. He wants so desperately to soothe Tweek. He wants in an equally desperate measure to throw it all away and ravish him until neither of them can walk or think or function beyond the vulgarity. The whole situation is so entirely unfair. He can’t even properly articulate his paltry woes since he’s so tunnel-visioned. Craig finds his thoughts wandering back to earlier in the day when he held Tweek close to him.
“I, angh, please, Craig… I need this to stop,” Tweek pleads in earnest.
There’s no heat behind the words. It’s a genuine, vulnerable cry for help. Something sharp pokes at Craig between his ribs and swells into something that manages to feel like it’s both crushing and bubbling over until it overwhelms him entirely. He doesn’t wholly recognize it at first, but it’s affection and sympathy and weakness all wound up into a clumsy package.
“Oh, honey…” he croons tenderly and dips his head towards Tweek’s knees. “You need relief.”
“I do… Augh, Craig, I do…”
Craig hums and presses a wet kiss to the inside of one of those creamy, trembling thighs. The pheromones are so strong Craig can’t resist the urge to sink his teeth into the flesh. He feels so light-headed but he works on instinct alone so his state of mind feels almost irrelevant. With only the slightest struggle, he’s able to hold back enough to merely graze his teeth over the sumptuous, salty flesh. His back arches and his eyes roll back while Tweek’s hips begin to buck a bit more erratically again. He’s not sure what in the hell is possessing him to work his tongue as he does, but he laves it lower and lower in a series of wet ribbons until his nose finds itself just below Tweek’s balls. He heaves a shaky exhale hotly against Tweek’s drenched opening and drinks in the luscious aroma of pheromones and sex and the piquant notes that mark it distinctly as Tweek. Craig urges those tense legs to fall further open and whispers a delicate promise softly into the flood.
“I’m going to take care of you.”