Tweek leaves no room to pause for thought. It all unfolds so fast. Within a dizzying instant, Craig finds himself ushering Tweek into the hallway. They hardly bothered to dry themselves with their towels, and as they step into the climate controlled hallway they’ve barely managed to cover their already sweltering bodies. The air feels somehow too cold on Craig’s agitated skin but he feels too hot, like he’s choking on the oxygen around him. He darts his eyes up and down the hallway, anxious and preemptively aggravated at the possibility that any other person might be making use of the public space. He rolls his shoulders back and puffs out his chest. He takes an unnecessarily defensive stance in front of Tweek despite the fact that the hallway is undoubtedly isolated.
“It’s okay, Craig,” Tweek says softly, placing a hand on Craig’s bare skin.
He bristles at the touch, but it’s reassuring nonetheless. Even though he’s sure that nothing can happen in this twenty-yard march back to his room, Craig stays hyper-vigilant and ready to take the offensive against anyone who might dare to so much as leer at Tweek. He promised he would protect him, and between his own personal vindication and the inclination of his nature, that’s not a promise he intends to take lightly. They tread cautiously, exposed and reeking of pheromones strong enough to suffocate a small village, but in the end they safely complete their short voyage and dash into Craig’s room. The door slams behind them and Craig latches the lock with a forceful click.
Once inside, Craig slides his bare back against the wooden door and heaves a ragged sigh. He scrunches his eyes shut and doesn’t want to look around the room. It’s honestly a bit embarrassing. The bed frame is broken, a smashed chair litters the floor as well as his discarded Chinese food containers from earlier, and the whole place reeks with the pungent smell of his sweat. He hopes Tweek will either choose to stay, or at least politely ask him to escort him to his own room and then never speak of this terrible idea ever again.
“What’s that smell…?” Tweek wonders aloud and Craig’s heart stops.
This is it. Anxiety grips him and he wants to crawl into a hole and vanish forever. It’s the very first time he’s scented an omega and offered to share his awful little den instead of fucking the omega lazily against some wall and then walking out. He’s put himself out on a limb and he’s about to be rejected. He sinks down to the floor and his naked ass chafes against the scratchy welcome mat that he’s never liked. His stupid fucking boner won’t relent, either. Craig is suddenly very stressed and upset. This was a terrible idea. How could he have ever thought he’d be a decent protector for Tweek? He hates being an alpha. It makes him stupid and aggressive and careless. He just wants to live a normal, boring life and this ruins everything.
Another thought crosses his mind. He promised himself he wouldn’t go prowling during this natural rut. He told himself he’d stay isolated and locked away, and that he wouldn’t go out into the world and fuck the first omega he found. And, obviously, that plan has backfired immensely. He blacked out, ate congealed Chinese food, and stuck his fucking dick very nearly inside quite literally the very first omega he found. Worst yet, he’s also invited him back to his room. Craig swallows a groan. He can’t do this. He wants to break something, but he instead sits paralyzed on the floor with his eyes crinkled shut and his jaw clenched tight. If he acts on his aggression, he might scare Tweek away. The effects of marking an omega still swim around inside him. He has to do the right thing. The trouble is, at this point, he has no idea what that thing might be.
The warmth of another body suddenly tingles beside him. He dares to peel one eye open and spots Tweek to his side, naked as the day he was born next to him on the coarse welcome mat. There’s no good reason for him to be sitting there, Craig thinks. Yet still, he’s there. He looks at Craig with a quizzical expression, unreadable for the most part but Craig is at very least perceptive enough to realize it’s some kind of look of concern.
“You’re nervous,” Tweek states plainly, without an ounce of judgment in his tone.
“No, I’m not,” Craig denies it and turns his head away perhaps a bit too quickly.
He hates feeling out of control. He hates feeling unpredictable and volatile and like his emotions and hormones can and will take over. Tweek’s hand tentatively taps Craig’s arm, and when Craig doesn’t immediately pull away, it settles more comfortably to rest atop his forearm. Something tender blooms in Craig’s chest, but before he has a chance to analyze it, Tweek speaks again.
“Hngh, yes you are,” Tweek insists. “I… I can smell it, somehow.”
Craig pauses at that. He mulls that over for a moment or two then finally decides he must be telling the truth. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he recalls being told years ago that an omega in heat has heightened senses. It’s not something he’ll ever personally understand, and it’s not something he’s ever discussed with a past partner. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that it’s never come up before. He squints thoughtfully and changes his mind. That’s not true. He actually also didn’t care. But he sort of actually, really cares now, and he isn’t sure why. He’s curious about Tweek in a way that he’s never been curious before. He’s intrigued and captivated. Or at least, he surmises he must be, because why else would he be so invested in his well-being and why else would he be having such a difficult time resisting the urge to stick his aching cock deep into this guy’s belly and scramble his guts around. The cock in question gives a mutinous little twitch at the thought and Craig hopes Tweek can’t suddenly read minds now, too.
“Oh,” Craig says thickly because all of his actual thoughts are terrible and stupid, but he’d better at least acknowledge that he’s been spoken to.
“Why are you nervous? …Ack! Actually, nevermind! You don’t have to answer that!” Tweek asks and then just as quickly withdraws the question with a garbled groan and a harsh squeeze before regrouping enough to proceed. “You don’t have to be nervous, Craig.”
Craig groans openly and runs his free hand down his face.
“I’ll take you back to your room,” he decides in a firm tone, completely ready to sever the tie before things can get somehow more dire.
“What?!” Tweek squawks in surprise. “But… grargh, but we just got here!”
Craig’s honestly a bit surprised at this response. Actually, he’s surprised for two reasons. First of all, he’s never had an omega question him before. Granted, while he’s had what he could politely describe as interactions with omegas, he’s never really held much conversation with anyone before. They’ve always been malleable and pliant to his whims and demands, so the fact that he’s here with one in his room and being questioned by him while deep in the throes of a very strong heat throws Craig for a loop. Second of all, and much more importantly, he doesn’t want to leave. It’s positively bewildering. Craig has very little to offer this guy, realistically. He’s just some surly alpha who has turned his meager dormitory into a gross den of sex and violence. He doesn’t understand why Tweek would want to stay here. He’s dangerous, and proved it less than a half hour ago back in the shower when he could barely hold himself back from fucking him right there against the wall. And yet, despite all of that, Tweek seems to dislike the idea of being returned to his own room.
“You don’t want to leave…?” Craig’s voice sounds uncharacteristically small.
“No way, man!” Tweek balks at the notion. “I’m an omega. An omega in heat! Oh Jesus, it’s awful just saying that! They could already be on their way to get me… They could abduct me and sell me into some sex-slavery human trafficking circle! Anything could happen out there. It isn’t safe! I’m an omega…and I’m a dude! I’m a dude, man! Do you know how rare that is?! Hrargh, I can’t believe this is happening to me. Oh god, they’ll definitely sell me as some kind of prized pig!”
Now it’s Craig’s turn to wrap a soothing hand around Tweek’s arm. While Craig doesn’t doubt the possibility of there being some sort of dark underground human trafficking circle being a horrific potential reality, he definitely doubts that Tweek is some kind of target. But he seems pretty genuinely terrified, so he bites his tongue and holds on to his arm in a flimsy attempt to silently ground Tweek back to reality. If anything, he should be more afraid of opportunistic alphas and machiavellian rapists that might be roaming these very halls. His grip on Tweek’s arm tightens just a little at the stomach-turning thought. Tweek’s hyperventilation slows before it can spiral out of control and he shifts in place to better look up at Craig.
“You offered to protect me,” Tweek croaks out amidst his jitters. “You didn’t have to do that. But you helped me.”
Craig stifles a snort. Helped him? He’s pretty sure Tweek is making fun of him. He hasn’t helped him at all. All he’s done is rub up against his wiry body and grind against his slick hole. Craig wishes his dick wouldn’t throb every time he recollects the act. He’s equal parts ashamed and aroused. Just when he decides he couldn’t have possibly fucked up more and he’s ready to delve low into the pits of self doubt and loathing, Tweek places a hand on top of his own. It’s feather-light and unsure, but it lingers hopefully. Craig ventures a chance and tilts his head back to look at Tweek.
“Please don’t make me leave…” Tweek whispers.
He looks so lost, so vulnerable. It’s a genuine plea and an apologetic prayer. Craig feels humbled in the most peculiar way. His skin tingles and his heart flutters like a hummingbird. He places his free hand on top of Tweek’s. It’s kind of weird. It’s an arm resting on a knee with a hand on top, followed by a different hand, followed by a third hand. They’ve built some kind of awkward limb-jenga sustained by a mutual, clumsy desire to comfort the other. Craig hopes it reads as a positive gesture. He stares blatantly at Tweek’s face. It’s riddled with anxiety and nerves but painted over with a sort of calm acceptance of his sorry state. Craig can’t imagine what he’s going through right now. There’s not really a word for how Craig feels about the situation. It’s not quite pity and it’s not quite carnal desire and it’s not quite noble intentions. It’s something mucky and muddled and swirls around inside him in some confusing blend of the three concepts, punctuated by something unidentifiable and foreign but not unpleasant in the least. Craig unabashedly wants to explore it.
“You don’t have to leave,” Craig murmurs softly.
Tweek blinks a few times in relief and produces a sound something akin to a pacified chuckle. His face relaxes. The tired bags still sit puffy and purple below his eyes, but the wrinkles in his forehead smooth themselves out and the deep creases of his frown go lax. Craig takes it all in. This is the first time he’s seen Tweek wear a calm expression. Something in his chest swells knowing that no matter how small or insignificant, he helped cause that. Tweek’s hair is starting to dry in the open air. It still hangs heavy in most spots, but a few gold-spun tresses are beginning to pop straight upwards. There’s a radiance about it, like a sunflower in the late spring starting to bloom its first petals or a freshly hatched chick looking at the great big world for the very first time.
“How…how long…” Tweek muses quietly, almost as though he’s unsure of what he’s trying to ask. “How long does the mark last…?”
“Probably a few hours,” Craig replies in a distant voice, never averting his gaze. “It depends.”
Tweek hums a little in thought, like his mind is very far away. He gives the slightest nod of affirmation but it’s clear he’s hardly paying attention to the words. He looks up at Craig with parted lips and eyes full of an unreadable emotion coupled with something that feels devoted and familiar. Craig doesn’t inherently register the way his neck cranes down and his chin tilts to the side. Tweek’s breath hitches then releases in a shaky, tenuous exhale. Craig can feel the hot puff of air lingering sweetly all around him, tantalizing him in an unspoken “come hither” sort of draw. He’s reminded of warm, downy covers on a chilly morning and the soft sounds of a gentle breeze whispering through the cracks of a window. His mind sweeps itself clear of all thoughts and he follows the lead of the pheromone-driven pull. But, it’s more than that. It’s the beating of his heart in his ears and the fragile way Tweek’s fingers timidly lace into his own in their odd pile of limbs. Craig lifts his top hand to nudge a damp lock of hair from Tweek’s forehead, then tenderly slips it down the side of his face to cup his vulpine jaw. Before he can think or hesitate, Craig dips his head down to brush his lips against Tweek’s.
Re: Tweek/Craig, ABO, overstimulation
Tweek leaves no room to pause for thought. It all unfolds so fast. Within a dizzying instant, Craig finds himself ushering Tweek into the hallway. They hardly bothered to dry themselves with their towels, and as they step into the climate controlled hallway they’ve barely managed to cover their already sweltering bodies. The air feels somehow too cold on Craig’s agitated skin but he feels too hot, like he’s choking on the oxygen around him. He darts his eyes up and down the hallway, anxious and preemptively aggravated at the possibility that any other person might be making use of the public space. He rolls his shoulders back and puffs out his chest. He takes an unnecessarily defensive stance in front of Tweek despite the fact that the hallway is undoubtedly isolated.
“It’s okay, Craig,” Tweek says softly, placing a hand on Craig’s bare skin.
He bristles at the touch, but it’s reassuring nonetheless. Even though he’s sure that nothing can happen in this twenty-yard march back to his room, Craig stays hyper-vigilant and ready to take the offensive against anyone who might dare to so much as leer at Tweek. He promised he would protect him, and between his own personal vindication and the inclination of his nature, that’s not a promise he intends to take lightly. They tread cautiously, exposed and reeking of pheromones strong enough to suffocate a small village, but in the end they safely complete their short voyage and dash into Craig’s room. The door slams behind them and Craig latches the lock with a forceful click.
Once inside, Craig slides his bare back against the wooden door and heaves a ragged sigh. He scrunches his eyes shut and doesn’t want to look around the room. It’s honestly a bit embarrassing. The bed frame is broken, a smashed chair litters the floor as well as his discarded Chinese food containers from earlier, and the whole place reeks with the pungent smell of his sweat. He hopes Tweek will either choose to stay, or at least politely ask him to escort him to his own room and then never speak of this terrible idea ever again.
“What’s that smell…?” Tweek wonders aloud and Craig’s heart stops.
This is it. Anxiety grips him and he wants to crawl into a hole and vanish forever. It’s the very first time he’s scented an omega and offered to share his awful little den instead of fucking the omega lazily against some wall and then walking out. He’s put himself out on a limb and he’s about to be rejected. He sinks down to the floor and his naked ass chafes against the scratchy welcome mat that he’s never liked. His stupid fucking boner won’t relent, either. Craig is suddenly very stressed and upset. This was a terrible idea. How could he have ever thought he’d be a decent protector for Tweek? He hates being an alpha. It makes him stupid and aggressive and careless. He just wants to live a normal, boring life and this ruins everything.
Another thought crosses his mind. He promised himself he wouldn’t go prowling during this natural rut. He told himself he’d stay isolated and locked away, and that he wouldn’t go out into the world and fuck the first omega he found. And, obviously, that plan has backfired immensely. He blacked out, ate congealed Chinese food, and stuck his fucking dick very nearly inside quite literally the very first omega he found. Worst yet, he’s also invited him back to his room. Craig swallows a groan. He can’t do this. He wants to break something, but he instead sits paralyzed on the floor with his eyes crinkled shut and his jaw clenched tight. If he acts on his aggression, he might scare Tweek away. The effects of marking an omega still swim around inside him. He has to do the right thing. The trouble is, at this point, he has no idea what that thing might be.
The warmth of another body suddenly tingles beside him. He dares to peel one eye open and spots Tweek to his side, naked as the day he was born next to him on the coarse welcome mat. There’s no good reason for him to be sitting there, Craig thinks. Yet still, he’s there. He looks at Craig with a quizzical expression, unreadable for the most part but Craig is at very least perceptive enough to realize it’s some kind of look of concern.
“You’re nervous,” Tweek states plainly, without an ounce of judgment in his tone.
“No, I’m not,” Craig denies it and turns his head away perhaps a bit too quickly.
He hates feeling out of control. He hates feeling unpredictable and volatile and like his emotions and hormones can and will take over. Tweek’s hand tentatively taps Craig’s arm, and when Craig doesn’t immediately pull away, it settles more comfortably to rest atop his forearm. Something tender blooms in Craig’s chest, but before he has a chance to analyze it, Tweek speaks again.
“Hngh, yes you are,” Tweek insists. “I… I can smell it, somehow.”
Craig pauses at that. He mulls that over for a moment or two then finally decides he must be telling the truth. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he recalls being told years ago that an omega in heat has heightened senses. It’s not something he’ll ever personally understand, and it’s not something he’s ever discussed with a past partner. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that it’s never come up before. He squints thoughtfully and changes his mind. That’s not true. He actually also didn’t care. But he sort of actually, really cares now, and he isn’t sure why. He’s curious about Tweek in a way that he’s never been curious before. He’s intrigued and captivated. Or at least, he surmises he must be, because why else would he be so invested in his well-being and why else would he be having such a difficult time resisting the urge to stick his aching cock deep into this guy’s belly and scramble his guts around. The cock in question gives a mutinous little twitch at the thought and Craig hopes Tweek can’t suddenly read minds now, too.
“Oh,” Craig says thickly because all of his actual thoughts are terrible and stupid, but he’d better at least acknowledge that he’s been spoken to.
“Why are you nervous? …Ack! Actually, nevermind! You don’t have to answer that!” Tweek asks and then just as quickly withdraws the question with a garbled groan and a harsh squeeze before regrouping enough to proceed. “You don’t have to be nervous, Craig.”
Craig groans openly and runs his free hand down his face.
“I’ll take you back to your room,” he decides in a firm tone, completely ready to sever the tie before things can get somehow more dire.
“What?!” Tweek squawks in surprise. “But… grargh, but we just got here!”
Craig’s honestly a bit surprised at this response. Actually, he’s surprised for two reasons. First of all, he’s never had an omega question him before. Granted, while he’s had what he could politely describe as interactions with omegas, he’s never really held much conversation with anyone before. They’ve always been malleable and pliant to his whims and demands, so the fact that he’s here with one in his room and being questioned by him while deep in the throes of a very strong heat throws Craig for a loop. Second of all, and much more importantly, he doesn’t want to leave. It’s positively bewildering. Craig has very little to offer this guy, realistically. He’s just some surly alpha who has turned his meager dormitory into a gross den of sex and violence. He doesn’t understand why Tweek would want to stay here. He’s dangerous, and proved it less than a half hour ago back in the shower when he could barely hold himself back from fucking him right there against the wall. And yet, despite all of that, Tweek seems to dislike the idea of being returned to his own room.
“You don’t want to leave…?” Craig’s voice sounds uncharacteristically small.
“No way, man!” Tweek balks at the notion. “I’m an omega. An omega in heat! Oh Jesus, it’s awful just saying that! They could already be on their way to get me… They could abduct me and sell me into some sex-slavery human trafficking circle! Anything could happen out there. It isn’t safe! I’m an omega…and I’m a dude! I’m a dude, man! Do you know how rare that is?! Hrargh, I can’t believe this is happening to me. Oh god, they’ll definitely sell me as some kind of prized pig!”
Now it’s Craig’s turn to wrap a soothing hand around Tweek’s arm. While Craig doesn’t doubt the possibility of there being some sort of dark underground human trafficking circle being a horrific potential reality, he definitely doubts that Tweek is some kind of target. But he seems pretty genuinely terrified, so he bites his tongue and holds on to his arm in a flimsy attempt to silently ground Tweek back to reality. If anything, he should be more afraid of opportunistic alphas and machiavellian rapists that might be roaming these very halls. His grip on Tweek’s arm tightens just a little at the stomach-turning thought. Tweek’s hyperventilation slows before it can spiral out of control and he shifts in place to better look up at Craig.
“You offered to protect me,” Tweek croaks out amidst his jitters. “You didn’t have to do that. But you helped me.”
Craig stifles a snort. Helped him? He’s pretty sure Tweek is making fun of him. He hasn’t helped him at all. All he’s done is rub up against his wiry body and grind against his slick hole. Craig wishes his dick wouldn’t throb every time he recollects the act. He’s equal parts ashamed and aroused. Just when he decides he couldn’t have possibly fucked up more and he’s ready to delve low into the pits of self doubt and loathing, Tweek places a hand on top of his own. It’s feather-light and unsure, but it lingers hopefully. Craig ventures a chance and tilts his head back to look at Tweek.
“Please don’t make me leave…” Tweek whispers.
He looks so lost, so vulnerable. It’s a genuine plea and an apologetic prayer. Craig feels humbled in the most peculiar way. His skin tingles and his heart flutters like a hummingbird. He places his free hand on top of Tweek’s. It’s kind of weird. It’s an arm resting on a knee with a hand on top, followed by a different hand, followed by a third hand. They’ve built some kind of awkward limb-jenga sustained by a mutual, clumsy desire to comfort the other. Craig hopes it reads as a positive gesture. He stares blatantly at Tweek’s face. It’s riddled with anxiety and nerves but painted over with a sort of calm acceptance of his sorry state. Craig can’t imagine what he’s going through right now. There’s not really a word for how Craig feels about the situation. It’s not quite pity and it’s not quite carnal desire and it’s not quite noble intentions. It’s something mucky and muddled and swirls around inside him in some confusing blend of the three concepts, punctuated by something unidentifiable and foreign but not unpleasant in the least. Craig unabashedly wants to explore it.
“You don’t have to leave,” Craig murmurs softly.
Tweek blinks a few times in relief and produces a sound something akin to a pacified chuckle. His face relaxes. The tired bags still sit puffy and purple below his eyes, but the wrinkles in his forehead smooth themselves out and the deep creases of his frown go lax. Craig takes it all in. This is the first time he’s seen Tweek wear a calm expression. Something in his chest swells knowing that no matter how small or insignificant, he helped cause that. Tweek’s hair is starting to dry in the open air. It still hangs heavy in most spots, but a few gold-spun tresses are beginning to pop straight upwards. There’s a radiance about it, like a sunflower in the late spring starting to bloom its first petals or a freshly hatched chick looking at the great big world for the very first time.
“How…how long…” Tweek muses quietly, almost as though he’s unsure of what he’s trying to ask. “How long does the mark last…?”
“Probably a few hours,” Craig replies in a distant voice, never averting his gaze. “It depends.”
Tweek hums a little in thought, like his mind is very far away. He gives the slightest nod of affirmation but it’s clear he’s hardly paying attention to the words. He looks up at Craig with parted lips and eyes full of an unreadable emotion coupled with something that feels devoted and familiar. Craig doesn’t inherently register the way his neck cranes down and his chin tilts to the side. Tweek’s breath hitches then releases in a shaky, tenuous exhale. Craig can feel the hot puff of air lingering sweetly all around him, tantalizing him in an unspoken “come hither” sort of draw. He’s reminded of warm, downy covers on a chilly morning and the soft sounds of a gentle breeze whispering through the cracks of a window. His mind sweeps itself clear of all thoughts and he follows the lead of the pheromone-driven pull. But, it’s more than that. It’s the beating of his heart in his ears and the fragile way Tweek’s fingers timidly lace into his own in their odd pile of limbs. Craig lifts his top hand to nudge a damp lock of hair from Tweek’s forehead, then tenderly slips it down the side of his face to cup his vulpine jaw. Before he can think or hesitate, Craig dips his head down to brush his lips against Tweek’s.