[21/?]

“I really did love it, Craig,” Tweek reminds him once they pause for a breath.

Craig revels in it as Tweek’s hot breath dances along his own wet lips. He licks them as if he can taste and swallow those words.

“I loved feeling like an omega,” he continues, and all Craig can do is shamefully whimper and devour the sentences as they pour out. “I, ahh, loved how you made me feel. I understand why they call it heat. You feel like you’re on fire, man.”

He looms over Craig’s body and leans in to reach up to brush a few stray hairs off Craig’s forehead. The weight of his belly presses into Craig’s, even though he’s propped up. It really gives Craig an understanding of exactly how distended his abdomen has become.

“I never knew getting fucked could feel like that,” he whispers the vulgar words so sweetly. “Haaa, did you know that, Craig? Do you know how good it can feel?”

“ ‘Supposed to feel good,” Craig manages to grunt out even though his head is swimming.

“You know how good it feels to be fucked, Craig?” Tweek punctuates the question by grinding his hips against Craig’s with a wild look lighting up his eyes. “It feels better than that.”

“I’m, ahh…” Craig chuckles a bit awkwardly. “I’m an alpha.”

“That’s right,” Tweek veritably coos, somewhere between mocking and encouraging that response. “You’re an alpha. Ha… ha, ha… Right? You can’t have what I have, can you, Craig? Hee… hee, hee, hee… Tell me you’re just an alpha. You’re just an alpha, and you can’t do anything except fucking scramble up someone else’s guts with your, angh… your big… big alpha cock.”

“I’m not just an alpha,” Craig furrows his brow and puffs out his cheeks defiantly.

Tweek slips his hands up under the hem of Craig’s shirt and drums his fingers along the flesh beneath it all the way up to the collarbone before raking his nails back down the same path. Craig hisses through his teeth and his back arches just a bit.

“Prove it,” Tweek challenges him. “Prove it, Craig. Hrngh, I can prove it, man. I’m not just an omega. I’m an omega, though, Jesus Christ, fucking look at me, dude. I’m your omega. But that’s not all. No, that’s not all. That’s not all, at all, man. Angh, I can’t. That can’t be everything, Craig! But I could do it before. Yeah… Yeah, I can still do it. It’s fucked up, Craig, it’s so fucked up, Craig. C’mon, argh, c’mon…”

Tweek starts to roll his hips, lost in the mess of words that fumble past his lips in his agitated state. He presses his palms flat on Craig’s stomach, anchoring himself as well as holding Craig down in place.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Tweek,” Craig curses, but there’s no venom in his words.

In fact, his actions are nothing short of supportive of Tweek’s increasingly confusing behavior. His legs stay firmly latched around Tweek’s and he lets his hips reciprocate with each push and pull.

“Can you do it?” Tweek dips back down low, but stops just before their noses can brush together.

His arms creep forward to cradle Craig’s head and lock him in place, giving him no choice but to maintain eye contact. It makes Craig squirm feebly, but something in him knows he wouldn’t look away even if that were an option.

“Do… what, exactly?” Craig practically squeaks.

“I don’t know what we should do,” Tweek sighs through the words, then pauses to plant a wet kiss on the side of Craig’s overheated cheekbone. “But, augh, I know what I want. I wanna do this, Craig. And… and grrrargh, I gotta do it. I won’t be able to stop. I can’t stop, Craig! Is that okay? It’s gotta be okay, man, you gotta prove it. You said. You said, Craig!”

The thought doesn’t really come to fruition. Tweek, in a frenzy, trails off and pushes his mouth hard against Craig’s. He lets his tongue explore Tweek’s mouth. It’s hot and feverish, just as he remembers it. It’s pleasant and confusing all at once since his sense of smell isn’t overwhelming him. Similarly, his cock doesn’t strain and cause him a frantic sort of distress. But the sensations are much the same otherwise– his heart is racing and his limbs feel heavy and light all at once. There’s a need that burns in his belly that he has no idea how to act upon. In a way, he’s grateful that for once in his life he isn’t at the helm. As for his confusion, though, it’s because he never thought this would be a possibility for him. Tweek holds him down and forces his tongue deeper down his throat. All Craig can do is succumb and enjoy it.

“Will you take care of me?” Tweek pulls back and gasps out the words. “The way I need? Can you prove it, Craig? Can you, augh, take care of me?!”

“I can only say ‘yes’ so many times, Tweek,” Craig tries to sound exasperated, but he ends up wheezing since his lungs feel on the verge of collapse.

Tweek emits something between a whine and a growl, and then his hands get to work. They’re everywhere on Craig, never stopping in one place for too long. His swollen tummy prevents him from bending or moving too quickly, but Craig views this mostly as a blessing. Tweek grips Craig’s arms, his chest, and his hair all in an erratic mess of quickly tangling appendages. Craig, on the other hand, alters between letting himself be groped and gently reaching toward the bump on Tweek’s belly. It’s nearly more hypnotic than if he’d marked him during his rut. It’s tangible, visible, and real. Pheromones are only clear to those who can perceive them. This is so much more than that. It’s unquestionable and a clear mark of his claim. He suddenly understands how Tweek feels about it. There’s something unbridled here, showing the unmistakable results of what they’ve done and who they’ve become to one another. The blood in his veins burns hot. He’s sure he can’t describe it but he wants to relive every moment that led up to this.

Craig’s thighs fall open as Tweek’s mouth lands on the side of his neck. Soft lips and wet tongue meet the tender flesh above his pulse. He’s acutely aware that this is nothing like a mark– how could it be? There are no raging pheromones or engorged genitals to quell. He feels ticklish and squirmy, as well as sensual and lightheaded. There’s no greater reasoning behind this than for pleasure on its own. Craig feels like hot wax melting under a candle’s flame. Between the sensation itself and the knowledge that Tweek is simply doing this to make them both feel good, he can’t help himself. He’s a puddle on the mattress. Craig angles his head to the side to make himself more available. He’s acting on instinct, and yet he’s not. Once it seems he's satisfied, Tweek pulls back and sits on his heels between Craig’s open legs and starts fumbling with the zipper on his pants.

“Holy shit,” is all Craig can manage to utter.

It all happens so fast. Tweek tugs on his clothing and Craig lifts his hips and arches his back to assist in the process. Before he knows it he’s laying flat on his back and completely exposed. It’s strange– he feels shy and vulnerable, in a very nearly virginal sort of way. The evidence to the contrary is directly in his line of sight in the form of Tweek’s round tummy, but even still he can’t help but feel small, defenseless, and completely new to all of this. The sound of his own breathing deafens him. His fingers latch onto the bed linens as if clutching tightly will prevent him from falling off the side of the earth.

“Craig,” Tweek manages to find a way to make something as simple as saying his name sound lewd and vulgar. “You look good like this.”

He feels so insecure, considering he’s laying on his back with his jeans scrunched up around the back of his knees and his shirt has crawled a bit up his stomach. Tweek speaks so reverently, though, and he can’t help but feel like it’s sincere. He wants to return the compliments. Tweek is the reason his breath hitches and his heart clenches, and he wants him to know that, too. But the words die in his mouth and his thoughts tangle up like an abandoned box of string lights. He tries to swallow that dry feeling in his mouth but he can only scrounge up a few measly little moans and whimpers. He misses the ironically “in control” feelings of being out of control during a rut, but he also really and truly does not. It’s all quite literally in Tweek’s hands and there’s something new and exciting deep within him that loves it.

“Your cock was so swollen before,” Tweek comments casually like he’s recollecting a tasty meal he once enjoyed; it makes the heat burn almost painfully on Craig’s cheeks. “Looked like when you, agh, put too much shit in your backpack. Ha, you know? And the zipper just… Mmm, looks ready to pop. Was it painful, Craig? Did it feel… ah, heavy?”

Craig doesn’t know how to answer that question. He can’t really force his mind to look back and reflect on how his dick felt a few months ago even if he wanted to. Tweek’s hands glide up the top of Craig’s bare thighs and send pleasant waves of crackling electricity jolting up his spine.

“It felt like having a boner,” he says stupidly, kind of hating himself for saying something so useless.

“It felt heavy inside me,” Tweek doesn’t seem fazed by any of the dumb sentences being strung together, instead focusing on kneading little circles closer and closer to his groin. “How does it feel now?”

“Wha…?” Craig tilts his head forward to look where Tweek has paused to gesture in between his legs.

His bleary eyes struggle to focus, but lo and behold there stands the unfamiliar sight of his own cock standing upright. It’s not angry or red, nor is it grotesquely swollen to a deformed degree. Obviously, he knows what his own dick looks like when it’s hard. He’s not unfamiliar with the nuisance of waking up with an erection, and especially when he was younger it seemed like he spent most of both his puberties walking around with the damn thing tucked up in his waistband to conceal it. It’s just… the only time someone else has seen it, he’s been in a rut. It’s always been in its behemoth state of unrestrained, pheromone-driven determination. Having a run-of-the-mill boner has really never been anything more than a simple nuisance for Craig, and it’s one that much more easily resolves itself on its own compared to the other at that. He’s still stuck in this embarrassing limbo of feeling like a completely incompetent idiot and feeling completely overcome with pleasure and desire.

“Hmm,” Tweek gives him a coy smile when he takes too long to respond. “I think it suits you.”

Those words make his cock twitch and jump, now that he’s acknowledged it. He feels extra dumb for not putting it together before. Tweek lowers himself until he’s hovering just above Craig’s cock. He’s suddenly peripherally aware that he’s shaking, and it’s not because he’s cold. He holds his breath, unwilling to make any sudden movements. He bites his tongue, much too unsure of himself to speak.

“Are you nervous, Craig?” Tweek presses a kiss to his stomach before resting his cheek on the same spot.

“A little,” he admits hesitantly.

“It’s okay,” Tweek croons, planting a few more soft kisses around the hairs that lead down between Craig’s legs. “Ngh, it’s okay, man. I was nervous, too. So nervous…”

“I’m sorry,” Craig apologizes yet again, but this time it’s because he’s at a loss for anything else to say.

“No… no, no. No,” Tweek insists, adamantly shaking his head while his nose brushes against those ticklish hairs. “You knew what to do! Augh, and you did it. You did it all, Craig. So it’s okay. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Hnngh, because you know what? This time I know. I know, man. Harghrgh, you know?”

“No, Tweek,” Craig huffs through his nose in exasperation. “I don’t know.”

“When I was scared, Craig, ngh, you made me feel so good. You showed me how,” Tweek’s slides easily up the side of Craig’s hip and finally finds a resting place with his palm flattened against Craig’s shaft. “And now? Now… hrngh, now I need to show you how.”

Craig’s knees buckle at the contact. It’s everything he didn’t realize he needed. There’s no urgency like he’s accustomed to. There’s no strain and no feverish burn to the act. Tweek’s fingers slowly curl around Craig’s shaft, like he’s testing the waters. It’s soothing, in a way. There’s no definitive drive toward seeking a predetermined end. It’s something Craig had never considered in the past– the whole point before was to fuck something raw until he knots, solely for the purpose of relieving himself of the anguish of his rut. But this? This is the simple act of someone touching him for no reason other than to bring him to a heightened state of pleasure. He lets out that quivering breath he was holding in, allowing the lingering feeling of Tweek’s deliberate pumps to wrack his entire body.

“Agh, don’t you want to feel good, Craig?” Tweek slowly strokes him, albeit it still a little bit erratically.

“Mm,” Craig can only nod and hope that his jerky hips show enough signs of agreement.

“You made me feel so good. Mm, so good,” Tweek mutters to himself. “Every day, hngh, every day I think about it, man. I can’t take it anymore. I hate it. Hate how much I love it. I’m an omega, Craig. So why do I wanna do this? Why?”

“Why,” Craig repeats, trying to hone in his focus on the fingers coiled around his length.

“ ‘m not just an omega,” he grouses and gives Craig an unintentional squeeze that causes him to lurch forward a bit.

“You’re not,” Craig agrees, and he realizes he truly believes it.

“Tell me you’re not just an alpha,” he demands, working Craig’s cock just a little faster.

“I’m not,” Craig agrees again, flinching just a little.

It’s not painful, but it’s certainly overwhelming. His head feels murky, but he’s strangely lucid.

“Grarghragh, say it, Craig! You need to say it,” Tweek almost wails, babbling a mile a minute while steadily jerking Craig off as if his life depends on it and his frantic eyes dart around wildly. “I gotta feel better about this. You gotta tell me. Please, Craig… I need to know. Ack, it’s gonna happen again, man, I can feel it. Once this part is over, it’s gonna start again. Oh, Jesus, it’s neverending, isn’t it?! Fuck, it was so good… I’ve never been fucked like that before, Craig. It’s not even over and, wagghhhh! I already want it again! Can’t stop thinking about it… It could be so easy. So easy to sell my body for profit, and… and I’d beg them to do it! That can’t be all there is. No way, man. I can’t live with that kind of pressure hanging over me. You gotta tell me! Please, Craig… say it! Tell me there’s more to it! Tell me there’s more to life than just being an omega. Tell me you’re more than just an alpha! I… I want this. But I know it’s so fucked up! I need to know you’ll take care of me because I’m me.”

There’s a disconnect between Tweek’s desperate plea and the calming sensation that comes from the pressure gripping his cock. He wants to tell Tweek to stop so he can think straight, but he also selfishly wishes Tweek could calm down on his own and let him relish in the gratification of the act. Neither choice is the right one, and once again Craig is faced with the burden of blindly trying to do the right thing. Tweek is skillful and relentless, but he’s also miserable and confused. Craig forces himself to think, though the task at hand isn’t an easy one. He wonders how they ended up in this mess. Lying to Tweek is out of the question. That won’t do them any good. But what is the truth?