Tweek’s back presses flush into Craig’s chest and their arms tangle loosely over Tweek’s abdomen. There’s a warmth pooling deep in Craig’s belly that feels comforting and familiar, like a wooden spoon stirring a big pot of soup. His shoulders loosen for the first time in probably days and the headache he hadn’t fully recognized until now begins to subside. Tweek’s head wobbles off to the side like an unattended marionette and exposes the full length of his neck. Craig’s eager tongue glides easily up the column and he takes his time pressing slowly and intentionally into the delicate flesh. With every swipe of his tongue and caress of his lips, it earns him another chorus of contented moans and sighs.
There’s no rhyme or reason for when Craig slows and finally stills. He just intuitively knows it’s time. He doesn’t pull away, though. Something inside him commands him to stay put, to hold Tweek and keep their bodies close. So he stays, ragged breaths coming more gently with each passing moment. Tweek’s heart drums in a stable percussion beneath the flat of his palm and in time, Craig can feel his own match the pace. A haze still makes his mind foggy, but there’s a serenity to it now. It’s the rage of a seastorm easing into the fine mist above the shore. It’s a disastrous storm fading into glistening morning dew. It’s the sweltering burn of the scorching sun melting into tranquil hues of the prismatic sunset. His chin rests in the crook of Tweek’s neck and his eyes flutter shut as he exhales a rumbly sigh.
He holds Tweek close to him, but there’s no clench to his grip. His arms feel like cooked spaghetti as he drapes himself casually over as much damp, exposed flesh as he’s able. His hands idly wander in pointless little trails– up the sides of his ribs and over their soft divots, and down the stretch of his tight stomach but stopping short above the patch of golden hairs. Craig doesn’t really mind that the water has turned less than lukewarm. He breathes in heartily, letting his head swim in the rich fragrance of their mingling pheromones. It’s potent and enticing, and it wraps around him like a homemade scarf. It harkens back to summer evenings where the scent of the heat clings sweetly in the air. It entices him like the aroma of fat, juicy, overripe cherries begging to be plucked from their stems and devoured in one big, lush, chewy bite. He licks his lips inadvertently.
Craig’s cock weighs heavily against the back of Tweek’s thigh. He’s still aching with a hungry need, but he feels so much less frantic. He gives a subtle little push to the flesh, just enough to remind Tweek it’s still there. Tweek shudders in his arms and his grip on Craig’s wrists grows a little firmer. A tingle starts in the tips of Craig’s fingers and trembles in its curious way up the length of his arms before it spreads throughout his body and manifests into an outright buzz that short-circuits his brain and forces any and all cognizant thoughts to a halt. Instinct fully consumes him and he lines up his turgid cock with the narrow, slippery passage between Tweek’s dripping thighs. He’s met with a languid eagerness as the heft of Tweek’s weight leans back against him.
A dreamy state of hypnosis blinds the pair. They don’t notice the chill of the shower water drizzling down their backs. The heat of their overwrought and dopamine-riddled bodies overpowers any other sensory experience. Craig holds tight to the limp, languorous body in his clutch and eases his hips into a cadenced rhythm. There’s an unspoken tenderness to the act, as though each of their bodies was composed of delicate tissue papers that could disintegrate if handled too harshly. One of Tweek’s arms snakes behind himself to clasp onto the back of Craig’s neck. It only encourages him to act more earnestly, slowly and deliberately pushing himself between the soft but unyielding flesh. His breathing becomes more rapid with each thrust, but it retains its even flow. Each shaky advance of his hips makes his chest rattle with a series of low, satisfied grumbles. Each scraping pull backward drags the topside of his cock against Tweek’s wet, pulsing hole, and with it comes the melody of his chittering mewls.
Craig moans along Tweek’s jaw as his quivering fingers tangle in his drenched hair and urge him to continue. Craig couldn’t stop if he tried. Every motion is drawn out in a painfully fluid gesture. It’s the most thoughtless yet purposeful act of his life. He’s compelled by instinct and drive and is completely powerless to the whims of his hormonal body. Time is irrelevant, as is any consideration of the repercussions of his actions. There’s only this moment and his insatiable need to coat himself in the luscious slick absolutely pumping out of Tweek’s tight body. His hands lower to Tweek’s hips and he guides them to grind a little harder into his shaft.
It’s almost strange, in an utterly gratifying sort of way, that Craig’s motivations have seemed to shift. He’s always viewed his cycle in an admittedly selfish mindset. It’s something he has to deal with, something he has to endure, and something he needs to resolve. But now, he seeks no resolution but rather he feels inspired to give of himself. If he could think straight, he’d probably wonder if this has something to do with the fact that he scented and marked an omega. But he can’t think straight, so instead, he can only hone in on the desire and the drive to provide for this omega in the only way his body knows how. Vague sentiments rattle around in his brain, humming about notions of protection, possession, and gratification. With only these simultaneously aggressive yet tender feelings consuming him with every puff of hot breath he rasps against the swollen gland on Tweek’s throat, he lines himself up against the entrance.
Tweek jolts in surprise at the gentle push but clings to him and chirps out a soft string of encouraging gasps and moans. His body shakes against Craig, but it’s less like the last leaf clinging to a branch before the winter frost and more like a boiling kettle about to spill over. Craig grunts and lets his tip sit idle at the rim, relishing in the heat and resistance. The slick pours from him, thick and saccharine, oozing like the sweetest honey dribbling down the thick length of Craig’s cock. It’s better than he could have hoped for and coats him in tantalizing promises for what is yet to come. Craig wants more and needs more, and he burning from the inside to give everything to Tweek as well. He traces the hole with his tip, smearing the syrupy fluids into a gratifying mess. He’s dizzy and desperate but still he manages to resist. He knows he won’t move further until Tweek does.
“Ahh, I… I want to get out of the shower,” Tweek announces, though the way his hips gently bounce against the engorged head prodding at him.
“Okay,” Craig agrees in a husky voice, but his grip on Tweek’s body remains firm.
For awhile, neither of them makes a move to leave. They remain tangled together under the icy waters that do very little to deter them. Craig tries to calm himself, taking in measured breaths in a forced, even pace. He grasps so harshly to Tweek’s hips his knuckles have turned white and there’s a part of him distantly aware of the fact that he’s sure to have left bruises on the pale flesh. His tongue lolls from his mouth and licks thick, idle stripes up Tweek’s neck in a way that indicates that despite stilling his hips he’s in no hurry to end things here. Eventually, Tweek’s heavy chest finds a more reasonable rise and fall and his arms loosen from behind Craig’s head. He leans forward, just shy of collapsing, and turns the knob until the chilly waters stop flowing. Save for the occasional droplet that drips from the showerhead and splashes carelessly to the floor, the shower room goes eerily quiet.
Tweek peels himself from Craig’s body and elicits a little whine as Craig grieves the physical loss. Tweek leans against the shower wall for a moment, cornered in the tiny stall by Craig’s lumbering, trembling body. There’s no way for Craig to avoid taking further notice of the other’s form, so he drinks it in blatantly. A splotchy pink flush mottles the otherwise porcelain-toned skin and accentuates the subtle twitches in Tweek’s tight muscles. Craig licks his lips and lets his eyes wander casually over the expanse of his back and fantasizes about sinking his teeth into the carved out physique along those shoulderblades. But his fantasy is short-lived because Tweek clumsily spins himself around to face Craig again just like he had at the start.
Craig’s heart does a cartwheel in his chest. His dick aches and threatens to inflate itself to an impossible girth, a testament to delirious heights of his feverish need to reach that climax and knot and empty his load. Tweek looks absolutely breathtaking. He’s unraveled and flushed, and his pupils are dilated so wide they blast out all the color from his irises. He chews his lower lip in a way that is both nervous and sultry. Craig hovers closely, but not close enough to initiate a second round of contact. No, not yet. His head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton but he’s clear enough to at least know he can’t just lunge. He has to be patient. He has to wait. He’s done his duty and he’s marked his omega so now it’s his turn to be compliant and vigilant.
But still, he’s awfully close. He’s close enough to try to count the smattering of pale freckles that pepper Tweek’s nose. He’s close enough to know he could easily reach forward and trace the tired bags below his eyes with the pad of his thumb. He’s close enough that if he wanted to, he could close the gap between their mouths and it could be his own teeth working over Tweek’s lower lip. He contains himself, though, and he does precisely none of those things. He patiently waits for Tweek to regain himself just enough to speak. The frenzy has left Craig’s body but the urgency remains. His cock bobs heavily between his legs, pulsing in a constant, neglected thrum to remind him of his unrelenting rut. He wants so badly to latch on to Tweek and fuck into him right here in the claustrophobic shower stall. But he doesn’t want to be some horny, out-of-control alpha that takes advantage of Tweek’s vulnerable state. The notion overwhelms him and the words begin to tumble past his lips before he can consider keeping them to himself.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he promises in a low, rumbling voice that he hopes conveys his absolute sincerity.
And it must, because Tweek reaches forward and grabs for one of Craig’s hands. He holds it in his own for a moment and runs his thumbs over it. A warm yet prickly feeling crawls up Craig’s spine like a lizard scuttling over hot sand. He stretches Craig’s arm forward and draws the hand in his up to cup his jaw. He presses Craig’s palm flat to his cheek and a faint, crooked smile curls up the corners of his mouth. Craig takes in a quick but significant sniff of the air. The potent bouquet of pheromones continually wafts around them as a constant reminder of the mark Craig has placed on Tweek.
“Thank you, Craig,” Tweek whispers softly, but his voice sounds distorted in the quiet.
Craig isn’t sure what to do now. He knows it isn’t safe to leave Tweek in this state and moreover, he absolutely feels obligated to stay by his side and carry him through this. It might have been better if Tweek had stumbled upon another omega. That isn’t the case, though. Craig is the one who found him alone and leaking and crying in the shower. Craig is the one whose alpha instincts are running rampant and unmitigated. Craig is the one who decided in a blind stupor to touch and bite and thrust and grab. And now, through circumstances that are neither his fault but are also entirely his fault, Craig finds himself in a quandary. Tweek’s fingers curl over the side of Craig’s. They can’t stay here in the shower stall for their entire cycles. They can’t stay here now, for that matter. They’re growing cold to the touch with skin like prunes. It’s hard to process thoughts right now, considering the duration of Craig’s extensive erection. It feels hot and bothersome as it hangs useless and untouched between his legs.
His thoughts garble and he struggles in place to untangle them like a mess of abandoned string lights. The cogs in his mind turn slowly, attempting in vain to formulate coherent thoughts. It’s been so long since Craig has had to deal with such an intense rut. He’d previously cracked the code. Just fuck and use and dismiss and move on with his life. But he can’t now–he’s gotten himself entwined in a delicate situation. He’d never forgive himself if he made this guy into another statistic, another notch in his belt. He doesn’t want that, so he strains to consider his options. Tweek gazes at him with such admiration and adoration it makes his heart swell. It makes him feel like maybe for once he’s been given the opportunity to do the right thing.
In the past, he’s had the most success with simply locking himself away until his ruts wears off naturally. He supposes that method could still apply in this circumstance. Sure, in the past he’s never brought an omega with him… but it can’t be that different, right? He isn’t sure but he’s hopeful that this is the right move. If they lock themselves away together, he’s certain he can ensure nothing bad will happen to Tweek under his care. The thought that they are two creatures of raw desire and overpowering hormonal attraction who will be left unsupervised never crosses his mind. He solidifies his plan and dips his head down so that his forehead leans against Tweek’s.
Cool drops of water slither down the sides of his face. He holds his palm steady to Tweek’s jaw and lets a thumb drift back and forth against his cheek. They make eye contact, but it’s so close Tweek’s large, round eyes seem to morph together into one big eyeball in the middle of his face. Their noses brush. Craig can feel each time Tweek inhales a cautious sniff and hopes he’s appreciating the luscious notes of tier combined pheromones as much as he is. Craig goes to speak but then bites his tongue. He takes another moment or so to linger in place and truly consider if he’s doing the right thing. Ultimately, he finds his gumption and speaks.
Re: Tweek/Craig, ABO, overstimulation
Tweek’s back presses flush into Craig’s chest and their arms tangle loosely over Tweek’s abdomen. There’s a warmth pooling deep in Craig’s belly that feels comforting and familiar, like a wooden spoon stirring a big pot of soup. His shoulders loosen for the first time in probably days and the headache he hadn’t fully recognized until now begins to subside. Tweek’s head wobbles off to the side like an unattended marionette and exposes the full length of his neck. Craig’s eager tongue glides easily up the column and he takes his time pressing slowly and intentionally into the delicate flesh. With every swipe of his tongue and caress of his lips, it earns him another chorus of contented moans and sighs.
There’s no rhyme or reason for when Craig slows and finally stills. He just intuitively knows it’s time. He doesn’t pull away, though. Something inside him commands him to stay put, to hold Tweek and keep their bodies close. So he stays, ragged breaths coming more gently with each passing moment. Tweek’s heart drums in a stable percussion beneath the flat of his palm and in time, Craig can feel his own match the pace. A haze still makes his mind foggy, but there’s a serenity to it now. It’s the rage of a seastorm easing into the fine mist above the shore. It’s a disastrous storm fading into glistening morning dew. It’s the sweltering burn of the scorching sun melting into tranquil hues of the prismatic sunset. His chin rests in the crook of Tweek’s neck and his eyes flutter shut as he exhales a rumbly sigh.
He holds Tweek close to him, but there’s no clench to his grip. His arms feel like cooked spaghetti as he drapes himself casually over as much damp, exposed flesh as he’s able. His hands idly wander in pointless little trails– up the sides of his ribs and over their soft divots, and down the stretch of his tight stomach but stopping short above the patch of golden hairs. Craig doesn’t really mind that the water has turned less than lukewarm. He breathes in heartily, letting his head swim in the rich fragrance of their mingling pheromones. It’s potent and enticing, and it wraps around him like a homemade scarf. It harkens back to summer evenings where the scent of the heat clings sweetly in the air. It entices him like the aroma of fat, juicy, overripe cherries begging to be plucked from their stems and devoured in one big, lush, chewy bite. He licks his lips inadvertently.
Craig’s cock weighs heavily against the back of Tweek’s thigh. He’s still aching with a hungry need, but he feels so much less frantic. He gives a subtle little push to the flesh, just enough to remind Tweek it’s still there. Tweek shudders in his arms and his grip on Craig’s wrists grows a little firmer. A tingle starts in the tips of Craig’s fingers and trembles in its curious way up the length of his arms before it spreads throughout his body and manifests into an outright buzz that short-circuits his brain and forces any and all cognizant thoughts to a halt. Instinct fully consumes him and he lines up his turgid cock with the narrow, slippery passage between Tweek’s dripping thighs. He’s met with a languid eagerness as the heft of Tweek’s weight leans back against him.
A dreamy state of hypnosis blinds the pair. They don’t notice the chill of the shower water drizzling down their backs. The heat of their overwrought and dopamine-riddled bodies overpowers any other sensory experience. Craig holds tight to the limp, languorous body in his clutch and eases his hips into a cadenced rhythm. There’s an unspoken tenderness to the act, as though each of their bodies was composed of delicate tissue papers that could disintegrate if handled too harshly. One of Tweek’s arms snakes behind himself to clasp onto the back of Craig’s neck. It only encourages him to act more earnestly, slowly and deliberately pushing himself between the soft but unyielding flesh. His breathing becomes more rapid with each thrust, but it retains its even flow. Each shaky advance of his hips makes his chest rattle with a series of low, satisfied grumbles. Each scraping pull backward drags the topside of his cock against Tweek’s wet, pulsing hole, and with it comes the melody of his chittering mewls.
Craig moans along Tweek’s jaw as his quivering fingers tangle in his drenched hair and urge him to continue. Craig couldn’t stop if he tried. Every motion is drawn out in a painfully fluid gesture. It’s the most thoughtless yet purposeful act of his life. He’s compelled by instinct and drive and is completely powerless to the whims of his hormonal body. Time is irrelevant, as is any consideration of the repercussions of his actions. There’s only this moment and his insatiable need to coat himself in the luscious slick absolutely pumping out of Tweek’s tight body. His hands lower to Tweek’s hips and he guides them to grind a little harder into his shaft.
It’s almost strange, in an utterly gratifying sort of way, that Craig’s motivations have seemed to shift. He’s always viewed his cycle in an admittedly selfish mindset. It’s something he has to deal with, something he has to endure, and something he needs to resolve. But now, he seeks no resolution but rather he feels inspired to give of himself. If he could think straight, he’d probably wonder if this has something to do with the fact that he scented and marked an omega. But he can’t think straight, so instead, he can only hone in on the desire and the drive to provide for this omega in the only way his body knows how. Vague sentiments rattle around in his brain, humming about notions of protection, possession, and gratification. With only these simultaneously aggressive yet tender feelings consuming him with every puff of hot breath he rasps against the swollen gland on Tweek’s throat, he lines himself up against the entrance.
Tweek jolts in surprise at the gentle push but clings to him and chirps out a soft string of encouraging gasps and moans. His body shakes against Craig, but it’s less like the last leaf clinging to a branch before the winter frost and more like a boiling kettle about to spill over. Craig grunts and lets his tip sit idle at the rim, relishing in the heat and resistance. The slick pours from him, thick and saccharine, oozing like the sweetest honey dribbling down the thick length of Craig’s cock. It’s better than he could have hoped for and coats him in tantalizing promises for what is yet to come. Craig wants more and needs more, and he burning from the inside to give everything to Tweek as well. He traces the hole with his tip, smearing the syrupy fluids into a gratifying mess. He’s dizzy and desperate but still he manages to resist. He knows he won’t move further until Tweek does.
“Ahh, I… I want to get out of the shower,” Tweek announces, though the way his hips gently bounce against the engorged head prodding at him.
“Okay,” Craig agrees in a husky voice, but his grip on Tweek’s body remains firm.
For awhile, neither of them makes a move to leave. They remain tangled together under the icy waters that do very little to deter them. Craig tries to calm himself, taking in measured breaths in a forced, even pace. He grasps so harshly to Tweek’s hips his knuckles have turned white and there’s a part of him distantly aware of the fact that he’s sure to have left bruises on the pale flesh. His tongue lolls from his mouth and licks thick, idle stripes up Tweek’s neck in a way that indicates that despite stilling his hips he’s in no hurry to end things here. Eventually, Tweek’s heavy chest finds a more reasonable rise and fall and his arms loosen from behind Craig’s head. He leans forward, just shy of collapsing, and turns the knob until the chilly waters stop flowing. Save for the occasional droplet that drips from the showerhead and splashes carelessly to the floor, the shower room goes eerily quiet.
Tweek peels himself from Craig’s body and elicits a little whine as Craig grieves the physical loss. Tweek leans against the shower wall for a moment, cornered in the tiny stall by Craig’s lumbering, trembling body. There’s no way for Craig to avoid taking further notice of the other’s form, so he drinks it in blatantly. A splotchy pink flush mottles the otherwise porcelain-toned skin and accentuates the subtle twitches in Tweek’s tight muscles. Craig licks his lips and lets his eyes wander casually over the expanse of his back and fantasizes about sinking his teeth into the carved out physique along those shoulderblades. But his fantasy is short-lived because Tweek clumsily spins himself around to face Craig again just like he had at the start.
Craig’s heart does a cartwheel in his chest. His dick aches and threatens to inflate itself to an impossible girth, a testament to delirious heights of his feverish need to reach that climax and knot and empty his load. Tweek looks absolutely breathtaking. He’s unraveled and flushed, and his pupils are dilated so wide they blast out all the color from his irises. He chews his lower lip in a way that is both nervous and sultry. Craig hovers closely, but not close enough to initiate a second round of contact. No, not yet. His head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton but he’s clear enough to at least know he can’t just lunge. He has to be patient. He has to wait. He’s done his duty and he’s marked his omega so now it’s his turn to be compliant and vigilant.
But still, he’s awfully close. He’s close enough to try to count the smattering of pale freckles that pepper Tweek’s nose. He’s close enough to know he could easily reach forward and trace the tired bags below his eyes with the pad of his thumb. He’s close enough that if he wanted to, he could close the gap between their mouths and it could be his own teeth working over Tweek’s lower lip. He contains himself, though, and he does precisely none of those things. He patiently waits for Tweek to regain himself just enough to speak. The frenzy has left Craig’s body but the urgency remains. His cock bobs heavily between his legs, pulsing in a constant, neglected thrum to remind him of his unrelenting rut. He wants so badly to latch on to Tweek and fuck into him right here in the claustrophobic shower stall. But he doesn’t want to be some horny, out-of-control alpha that takes advantage of Tweek’s vulnerable state. The notion overwhelms him and the words begin to tumble past his lips before he can consider keeping them to himself.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he promises in a low, rumbling voice that he hopes conveys his absolute sincerity.
And it must, because Tweek reaches forward and grabs for one of Craig’s hands. He holds it in his own for a moment and runs his thumbs over it. A warm yet prickly feeling crawls up Craig’s spine like a lizard scuttling over hot sand. He stretches Craig’s arm forward and draws the hand in his up to cup his jaw. He presses Craig’s palm flat to his cheek and a faint, crooked smile curls up the corners of his mouth. Craig takes in a quick but significant sniff of the air. The potent bouquet of pheromones continually wafts around them as a constant reminder of the mark Craig has placed on Tweek.
“Thank you, Craig,” Tweek whispers softly, but his voice sounds distorted in the quiet.
Craig isn’t sure what to do now. He knows it isn’t safe to leave Tweek in this state and moreover, he absolutely feels obligated to stay by his side and carry him through this. It might have been better if Tweek had stumbled upon another omega. That isn’t the case, though. Craig is the one who found him alone and leaking and crying in the shower. Craig is the one whose alpha instincts are running rampant and unmitigated. Craig is the one who decided in a blind stupor to touch and bite and thrust and grab. And now, through circumstances that are neither his fault but are also entirely his fault, Craig finds himself in a quandary. Tweek’s fingers curl over the side of Craig’s. They can’t stay here in the shower stall for their entire cycles. They can’t stay here now, for that matter. They’re growing cold to the touch with skin like prunes. It’s hard to process thoughts right now, considering the duration of Craig’s extensive erection. It feels hot and bothersome as it hangs useless and untouched between his legs.
His thoughts garble and he struggles in place to untangle them like a mess of abandoned string lights. The cogs in his mind turn slowly, attempting in vain to formulate coherent thoughts. It’s been so long since Craig has had to deal with such an intense rut. He’d previously cracked the code. Just fuck and use and dismiss and move on with his life. But he can’t now–he’s gotten himself entwined in a delicate situation. He’d never forgive himself if he made this guy into another statistic, another notch in his belt. He doesn’t want that, so he strains to consider his options. Tweek gazes at him with such admiration and adoration it makes his heart swell. It makes him feel like maybe for once he’s been given the opportunity to do the right thing.
In the past, he’s had the most success with simply locking himself away until his ruts wears off naturally. He supposes that method could still apply in this circumstance. Sure, in the past he’s never brought an omega with him… but it can’t be that different, right? He isn’t sure but he’s hopeful that this is the right move. If they lock themselves away together, he’s certain he can ensure nothing bad will happen to Tweek under his care. The thought that they are two creatures of raw desire and overpowering hormonal attraction who will be left unsupervised never crosses his mind. He solidifies his plan and dips his head down so that his forehead leans against Tweek’s.
Cool drops of water slither down the sides of his face. He holds his palm steady to Tweek’s jaw and lets a thumb drift back and forth against his cheek. They make eye contact, but it’s so close Tweek’s large, round eyes seem to morph together into one big eyeball in the middle of his face. Their noses brush. Craig can feel each time Tweek inhales a cautious sniff and hopes he’s appreciating the luscious notes of tier combined pheromones as much as he is. Craig goes to speak but then bites his tongue. He takes another moment or so to linger in place and truly consider if he’s doing the right thing. Ultimately, he finds his gumption and speaks.
“Let’s go back to my room.”