[10/?]

“God damn it…” Craig grouses. “Fuck me for trying, I guess?”

“Well, no…” Tweek begins thoughtfully. “It’s just not done.”

He scoots onto the mattress and curls his knees up to his chest. Craig watches stupidly from the foot of the bed with his legs just a little too far apart to stand normally. He watches as Tweek pushes all the padding up against the broken headboard and gives it a few hearty slaps to confirm everything is placed the way he likes.

“That’s better,” Tweek nods at the organized mess he’s created.

“Is it done now…?” Craig wonders aloud.

It doesn’t look like a nest. It looks like a crumpled heap of random materials. This is too weird. He knows there’s got to be some kind of biological imperative here, but he has no idea how or why this would be some important ritual. Tweek leans into the pile and the placated look begins to return to his face.

“Mnph, no…” Tweek makes swinging vertical gestures with his arms along the edges of the bed frame. “It needs, agh… bumpers?”

“Bumpers,” Craig repeats flatly.

“Bumpers,” Tweek agrees as if that somehow further explained anything.

There’s a pause and then Tweek makes another garbled noise and his body rolls in a big, spastic twitch.

“Work with me here, Craig!” Tweek squawks. “Grargh, c’mon, man… do you have more blankets or something?”

Craig can work with that, he decides. And he does in fact have more blankets. Once he’s collected and presented them to Tweek, there’s no hesitation on Tweek’s end. Some sort of neuron has activated in his brain and wires it into a mode of unadulterated instinct. He stirs around in the bedding and creates two long, fat strips of rumpled-up blankets like they’re a pair of lumpy and colorful sausages. He lines the edges of the mattress with them and Craig can see it now. Ah, yes, bumpers. They’re like soft fortifications for the ledges of the forming nest. It’s a rudimentary task, but making this nest keeps the pair of them occupied. Tweek busies himself with bird-like architectural design and Craig assists by continually scavenging for anything remotely plush or soft that might be stashed away in his dorm. In time, the nest takes shape and form. The appearance is a bit reminiscent of one of those big, soft pet beds that are shaped like a donut. Granted, the appearance also calls to mind imagery of the backroom of an extremely unorganized thrift store as well. Nevertheless, there’s clearly something about the messy hoard of linen items arranged with a distinct hollow spot in the center that identifies it distinctly as a nest.

“Hrmgh,” Tweek darts his eyes around the piles and grunts thoughtfully. “It’s missing something.”

“I’m out of stuff,” Craig purses his lips. “It looks fine, Tweek. What else could you possibly need?"

“Grargh, I don’t know?!” Tweek rakes a hand through his frazzled hair and his eyes bulge and twitch as though this is really gnawing at him.

“That’s actually everything. Like I said, I’m out of stuff,” Craig shrugs, but then a thought occurs to him. “Well… I mean, I’ve got some shirts-”

“Yes!” Tweek agrees before the thought is fully formed and whips his head up at such high velocity it gives Craig a sympathetic sense of whiplash.

Even from this distance, Craig can see that Tweek’s pupils have fully dilated. He feels as though he’s uttered some magical incantation and he dares not break the spell, so he fumbles his way over to his overflowing hamper of soiled clothing. An emotion starts bubbling up deep inside his belly. It’s neither pride nor shame, but it most certainly feels pleasant and validating. Craig retrieves every cotton shirt and hoodie he can gather and presents them to Tweek. They’re snatched from his hands like he’s a hungry dog a little too eager for his treat. Tweek draws one of the navy blue hoodies up to his face and breathes deeply into it as though it contains a powerful elixir. Craig watches with a slack jaw as Tweek’s eyes roll back shamelessly.

“They’re perfect,” Tweek’s muffled voice drawls low and thick from beneath the heavy fabric. “Thank you, Craig.”

Craig tries to swallow down the dry lump in his throat. A sharp pain shoots through his palms from his fingernails pressed deeply into them in his tight fists. The signals in the room are so strong and the pheromones that riddle his aching body urge him to just fucking do it. He should jump right now. It’s his bed, after all, so why shouldn’t he? Tweek would make for such a decadent, willing prize. He’s sweating again. There’s a deliciously gushing omega sitting in a crudely made nest compromised of his own possessions in his own bed, and that very omega perches there huffing at his soiled clothing like a junky huffing a paper bag filled with addicting solvents. He can barely contain himself.

“Well, if you’re all set, then…” Craig grits out through a tight jaw and turns on his heel to leave.

“Wait!” Tweek calls out as soon as his back is turned to him.

Craig doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He won’t. It’s a temptation too powerful and a lure too irresistible. But Tweek’s voice cuts through him like a pocket knife. It’s a sincere plea laced with a dejected sort of pain that almost humbles Craig to his plight. He chances a peak over his shoulder.

“Don’t leave,” he mutters softly like he’s ashamed to ask for what he wants.

Craig’s insides feel soft. His shoulders slump and he spins back around. He can’t do this.

“I shouldn’t stay in here with you in this state, Tweek,” Craig groans.

He doesn’t want to put words to this. They both know what will happen if he stays. It’s precisely the thing Craig promised himself, and he silently promised it to Tweek as well. Tweek only makes a disgruntled little noise in response to share his counterargument. Craig stands uselessly in place as Tweek wraps his arms around his knees and knits his eyebrows into a frustrated tangle above his forlorn eyes.

“C’mon, Tweek,” Craig practically whines in a desperate attempt to get him to understand the risk. “I’m an alpha.”

Tweek pulls his face from the hoodie and fixes a smoldering gaze directly on Craig. His lips turn down into a defiant frown.

“I’m not afraid of you,” his fiery words burn through the tension and resonate with the dignified sort of implication that he’s offended that Craig would insinuate anything of the sort.

Craig lets that gestate for a moment or so. It’s not at all what he expected to hear. His head is throbbing with a nauseating mixture of confusion and frustration and raw lust. A little spark of anger bubbles in his belly. Can’t Tweek see it’s not about fear? That it’s not about desire? It all comes down to the simple fact that actions have consequences. Can’t he fucking see that? Craig has suffered through the hell of his nature for enough years to understand this with a grim and thorough understanding. And now, completely out of the woodwork, Tweek thinks he can just arrive in his life and assume it’s as easy as deciding to say a few brave words in spite of nature itself.

“Don’t you think I get it, man?” Tweek doubles down, as though he can read Craig’s thoughts. “Grrr, I fucking get it, Craig. Don’t patronize me. You think I’m some pathetic little omega. Hrngh, but I’m not! I’m not, Craig.”

Craig scoffs. It’s not just that. Shows what Tweek knows. It’s a vile composite of factors. It’s not solely that Tweek is a lustful omega who is literally incapable of preventing himself from bequeathing himself to the first alpha dick he lays his eyes on. If only it were that easy. And no, it’s not enough that Tweek so boldly claims that he can abandon the fear of that prospect. Craig lowers his eyelids and exhales slowly through his nose. That feeling has to prevail from both parties. The truth is, Craig is afraid. He’s afraid deep down into the marrow of his bones. At this point, Craig wholly believes that Tweek has a strong constitution and at least understands some of the risks at play here. But Craig is so very profoundly and shamefully afraid of what he’ll do going forward. He doesn’t want to lose control. He doesn’t want to relinquish the lingering threads of self-perseverance he’s managed to hang onto throughout this ordeal.

“You said you’d help me, Craig. Hahngh, and you know what? Maybe you should trust that even though this shit is the biggest goddamn nightmare I could possibly imagine, I know what I need,” Tweek looks down his nose with that same air of reckless defiance. “Grargh, can you just help me?!”

He knows it’s a mistake. It’s a huge fucking mistake. But Craig relents anyway. He feels a bit justified, though. The simple knowledge that Tweek would dare to so blatantly make his needs known and demand them so freely despite the swell of pheromones swaying between them helps Craig feel as though he should stop fighting it. There’s a possibility that everything will be fine. And for reasons he can’t really understand, he believes that just maybe it really will be fine.

“Lay down,” Craig pushes the words out on a trembling breath.

Without resistance, the omega lays on his side. He curls into a loose fetal position and waits expectantly. It’s a few short strides to the bed and then Craig is on all fours. He crawls slowly up the length of the narrow passage between the clumsy barriers of the nest until he reaches the top. The fragrance is almost overpowering at this range. All the terrifying and comforting feelings meld together in a fragile blend of an emotional slurry Craig has never experienced before. His heart thrums nearly painfully behind his ribs. Slowly, very slowly, he lowers himself to fit alongside Tweek’s scorching body. In delicate and cautious motions, he molds his limbs to fit nicely all around Tweek.

“Just hold me for a little while,” comes the quiet whisper once they’re finally settled.

So he does. He concentrates on his breathing. He matches himself with Tweek, or maybe it’s Tweek that mirrors him. It’s hard to discern. What matters, though, is that their unsure aspirations work in an easy tandem. There’s an acute intimacy to it, just laying still and experiencing a private, quiet moment with another human being. Tears threaten to prickle in the corners of Craig’s eyes. He feels overwhelmed with such an inexplicable sense of security that strikes so sincerely it almost scares him more than ever. A ragged sigh heaves its way out of him, making his bones rattle under his flesh. It’s as if all his internalized strife is escaping on the hot puff of breath that rolls down Tweek’s knobbly spine. It earns him a contented sigh from Tweek in response and all the fine hairs on both of their bodies stand on end.

Their legs tangle together carelessly in the mess of fabrics. Craig’s arm snakes over Tweek’s torso and urges their bodies to press together. The motion is met with a languid acceptance. Tweek rolls his shoulders back until Craig’s chin slots into the crook of his neck. Craig flattens his palm over the breadth of Tweek’s tight abdomen and presses it firmly. He closes his eyes and lets himself live in the present. He’s been so overwrought for days, and while he still feels addled and agitated and his body is in absolute agony… this simple act of holding another human being close to his chest floods him with such a devastating sense of relief. Craig can’t bring himself to move or speak or even think. He can only cling tightly to the warm flesh beneath his hand and drink in the soothing aromas of their mutual scents. It’s only been about an hour (though it feels like a pleasant eternity) before Tweek begins to squirm a bit.

“Thank you, Craig,” he whispers softly. “For everything you’ve done for me.”

“I think…” Craig starts in a low voice, but then pauses for a moment to appreciate the way his voice rumbles a bit against Tweek’s neck. “I think I needed this, too.”

A weight leaves him as he admits that. In fact, now that he thinks about it, this must have been the true climax of the effects of having scented Tweek. In fact, it only now occurs to him that his erection has been pressed hotly against the small of Tweek’s back this entire time and it hasn’t caused him any egregious control issues. On the contrary, he realizes that for the first time since his rut has begun, he’s felt a bit of relief. He should feel some solace from this, probably, but instead, a cold spike of newfound fear rips through him. Hopefully, Tweek won’t notice his rising cortisol levels. All of these feelings are good, of course, but they come with a toll. Sure, Craig has never scented an omega before. Sure, he’s in well over his head with the entirety of this situation. But he’s still experienced enough to have an innate understanding of what’s happening. The calming effects will wear off soon. The clarity will fade and he can feel deep in his bones that the relapse will be stronger and more gripping than before. Most terrifying is the thought that the most powerful aphrodisiac he’s ever encountered is currently lounging comfortably beneath the weight of his arm. Craig tries not to panic. He needs to stay calm. He needs to be strong. He needs to retain control.

“Argh, I’m starting to feel sore again,” Tweek complains quietly.

“Where,” Craig rasps out the question before he can think.

“Mmmmnnnghh, same as before…”

Craig’s breath hitches. His eyes open but his vision is already starting to blur. He can feel himself plummeting into carnal downfall. He’s told himself time and again that allowing himself to succumb is strictly verboten. And yet…and yet…

“It’s okay, Tweek,” his words slither down the side of the omega’s jaw. “I can help.”