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“Would you stop breathing so fuckin’ hard? It’s annoying,” Craig gripes.
Tweek didn’t notice he was breathing particularly hard, but of course he would be. Mere moments ago, Bebe called out their names for seven minutes in heaven, which she apparently had not been joking about, and now under threat of being made to competitively drink grain liquor until one of them passes out, Tweek is sharing some romantic closet time with his bully. It’s so passé to have a bully, so of course a dork like Craig has chosen to occupy that role in his life.
“Yeah, I guess— agh! I guess I can! Not like there are toilets you can dunk my head in in here.”
Craig is silent for a moment.
“I haven’t even done that since 7th grade.”
“Oh, you remember our last time, huh?”
Tweek doesn’t know where all this bitter confidence has come from, but it’s cathartic. Actually, it’s probably coming from the shots of tequila Rebecca poured down his throat and the hit of Kenny’s vape he took on his way into the closet.
It’s short-lived, though. Craig’s hands are around Tweek’s throat within seconds.
“Why are you being such a little bitch,” he demands to know in that creepy monotone of his, squeezing too tightly. “You’re getting out of here. Isn’t that, like, your fuckin’ revenge of the nerds?”
“Why?” Tweek asks, voice ragged from the choking, as he claws at Craig’s freakishly strong hands, “‘cause you’re stuck here?”
“I’m not. I’m going to Boulder.”
“Ngh, fuck you, no you’re not. I’m going to Boulder.”
Has Craig been stalking him? Is he going to the same school as Tweek to continue his regular routine of shoving Tweek into the lockers as he passes him in the halls?
“Pretty sure we’re not the only ones going to Boulder,” he says sarcastically.
Tweek’s getting pretty sick of Craig’s shitty attitude and his hands still wrapped around his neck, squeezing occasionally so Tweek doesn’t get too cocky.
Giving up on prying his hands off, Tweek squirms below the waist, trying to knee Craig in the groin, but he can’t reach his knee up there at this angle. Instead, he ends up rubbing his thigh against it, surprised to find more activity in Craig’s pants than he expected.
Craig releases him immediately and takes a step back, breathing heavily.
“Was that—Are you—?”
“Shut up, Tweek,” he hisses, more quietly than before.
“You’re hard. Hah, you’re hard from, from choking me?” Tweek breathes out, amazed.
“If you don’t shut up, I’m actually going to kill you. I swear to God, Tweek.”
“Hmm,” Tweek hums. The tequila confidence is kicking in again. He’s not afraid of Craig and his fight boner, not right now anyway. “You know, I’d always heard…” he trails off, knowing Craig won’t be able to resist the bait.
“What? What did you hear?” he demands.
Bingo. Tweek shrugs nonchalantly. “Just that, ah. Millie tried sucking you off sophomore year and you couldn’t stay hard for it.”
“Who fucking—Where the hell did you hear that?”
The truth is that all the girls heard about it right after, and it had probably made its way to most of the guys in their grade by now, too. Nobody would ever say anything about it to Craig because even though Tweek’s stupid drunk and goading him right now, he’s still pretty fucking scary.
“I, ah, have my sources,” Tweek says, overly pleased with himself. “Sure would be a shame if someone were to spread that around Boulder.”
“What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to die tonight?” He puts one of his hands back around Tweek’s throat, pressing lightly. It’s a threat, but the pressure feels nice and doesn’t slow Tweek down in the least.
“Mmmh, tell you what, Craig.” He can hear Craig fuming, feel the hot puffs of breath above his head. “I’ll make you a deal. If I can’t make you come in however long we have left, I won’t tell anyone, and you can beat the everloving shit out of me tonight. You can pound me ‘til I’m unconscious.” Tweek then giggles at the unintended innuendo. “But if I can, you have to leave me alone for all of college. I won’t tell anyone about your… egh, weird gay choking kink or whatever. What do you say?”
“Why the hell would I want your lips on me, faggot?”
Tweek reaches down to rub Craig slowly through his pants, sighing contentedly. He doesn’t even need to say anything.
Craig releases air out of his nose slowly, like a leaking balloon. “Fine,” he snaps finally.
As he scrambles to undo his belt, Tweek sinks to his knees and checks his phone. They have four whole minutes. He can do this, easy.
Craig gets his pants down for him and even though it’s dark, Tweek manages just fine with the boxer briefs himself. His confidence is undercut, though, when the thing immediately thwaps him in the face upon being released. Gripping the hair at the nape of Tweek’s neck with one hand, Craig chuckles, low and nasal, as he takes hold of his cock and slaps Tweek’s face with it over and over.
His stomach sinks. It’s actually a monster, which sucks. Tweek would love it if his stupid bully had a little dick and a complex over it. Then his preoccupation with giving Tweek a hard time wouldn't be hugely personal, as in targeted at Tweek for being a floater, weak and vulnerable in Craig's eyes. He always assumed Craig picked on him just because he could, but thinking about how quickly the guy got hard from threatening him, maybe Craig does have some weird thing for him and is in denial.
“Bet you loved that Millie story, huh? Thought I couldn’t get it up? Nah. I can get it up. Just takes a lot.”
Tweek sees his in, and he takes it.
“Mmmh, takes a lot? You’re rock hard right now, ah, so hard for me. Aren't you, big boy?”
Above him, Craig huffs out a breath. His enthusiastic slapping slows.
“I haven’t even touched you yet,” Tweek adds with a little giggle, endeavoring to change that. He grips him at the base with both hands, shooing Craig’s hand away, and begins slowly pumping him.
Craig digs his other hand into Tweek’s hair, breathing heavily just from the way Tweek’s stroking him up and down. If Tweek were a little less drunk, he might be embarrassed by how much Craig’s minute reactions turn him on. But fortunately he’s drunk enough that it’s just fun, just pleasure. When he starts licking the head of Craig’s cock like a ring pop, the hiss it elicits from the man above him goes straight to Tweek’s own dick.
He whines brattily as he sucks him into his mouth and swirls his tongue around the head because he’d love to rub himself and relieve some of that pressure but this is really a two-hand job, at least to start with.
Or it should be, but Craig, either out of impatience or dickishness (or both), grips his hair more tightly and then thrusts his cock all the way down Tweek’s throat in one swift motion, so that Tweek’s nose is pressed into the thicket of coarse, black pubic hair.
“Oh, what the fuck…” Craig groans, apparently surprised his dick move didn’t make Tweek gag or puke.
He does cough moments later, though. This asshole tried to go down dry, for fuck's sake! The coughing startles Craig enough that Tweek can easily pull away and catch his breath.
“Gah—at least warn a guy!” he squawks, still coughing. “Jesus.”
“How the fuck do you do that?” Craig seems too stymied to stop Tweek from doing whatever he likes, which right now is slobbering all over his massive length so it doesn’t catch against his throat again. He tastes infuriatingly good, natural and clean, earthy and musky. Tweek could lick him all day.
“I don’t know,” he replies wetly. “I just do!”
“I’m going down again.”
At least Craig’s bothered to warn him this time. It’s not comfortable but Tweek’s able to swallow with the movement and it doesn’t chafe against his throat on its way down.
“Ungh, fuck,” Craig moans above him. When Tweek starts swallowing around him, he swears and pulls on Tweek’s hair hard. It’s too much for Tweek. He has to reach his hand between his legs and rub himself through his jeans. His soft moaning doesn’t escape Craig’s notice.
“Are you jerking off?” he asks incredulously.
Muffled by cock, Tweek replies, “M’trying.”
“No way, dude, that’s cheating,” Craig spits, grabbing his arms and pinning them over his head against the closet wall.
He moans continuously as the wall gives him better leverage to shallowly thrust down Tweek’s throat. “Hnng, no way you’re horny for sucking cock.”
“Mmm, but I am,” Tweek hums around him.
“Shut up, shut up!” Craig hisses.
He thrusts harder, like he can make this so unpleasant Tweek will turn straight or something. Unfortunately for him, Tweek’s not only gay gay but something of a masochist; the rougher he is, and the tighter Craig grips his wrists overhead, the more happy, pleasured sounds Tweek makes around his cock.
“Can’t fucking stand you. Bet I can make you shut up,” he growls as his balls rhythmically bounce against Tweek’s chin.
Tweek can’t help the belly laughs that come out at that thought. He’s already losing the current bet so badly and he wants to make another one. And on the subject of making Tweek shut up for once! Craig’s so funny. Tweek's never noticed how funny he is on account of the fact that Craig's always shoving him and menacing him and making sure he gets picked last in gym class.
All that seems so far away now, the night before graduation at this party even an overworked loser like Tweek was invited to. It feels like all the artificial barriers established over years of schooling are coming down like they were nothing all along.
As he gets more into it, Craig releases Tweek’s wrists, focusing instead on holding him down on his cock. Without the frantic in and out, Tweek can make his sucking and swallowing steady and methodical. He can swipe at his balls, trying to get them into his mouth. Eventually, he involves his freed hands, gently tugging them towards his lips and tongue to lay sweet kisses and paint wet, hot stripes on them.
He can feel the tremor in Craig’s thigh as he tries to hold it back. They’re so close; Tweek knows they must be so close to the end of this imposed window of time. He wants his cum, so he can finally win with this fucking guy, but also because he just wants it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Craig chants, refusing to accept defeat even as it bursts forth from him.
Tweek purrs in victory, the vibrations likely causing the rest to come and keep coming from him. Craig holds his head down as he groans and unloads right down his throat, and he guzzles it down in turn, triumphant.
It is then that the door swings open, and Tweek suckles continuously through the gasps and shouts from the other partygoers. Craig tugs him up his length and tries to pull him off entirely, but Tweek doesn’t stop sucking until the cum stops splashing on his tongue, because he’s not a goddamned quitter.
“Wow. Good job, Tweek.” He’s pretty sure that’s Bebe, and he’s embarrassingly proud the school’s most popular cheerleader thinks he sucks cock well. “You taking notes, Millie?”
“Fuck off. He’s obviously a homo.”
Tweek blinks against the bright lights and wipes his mouth with his sleeve once he’s done swallowing. Over the tumult of the gawking crowd, he can hear Craig swearing. When he looks up at him, Craig is frantically trying to get his rapidly softening cock back in his briefs and pants. He glowers down at Tweek when he notices him watching.
“Proud of you, darling!” someone shouts at him. It sounds like Rebecca and he smiles blindly in her approximate direction.
Suddenly, though, Craig is hoisting him up from under his armpit and dragging him away from the babbling throng. Tweek’s stomach drops when they get outside and Craig keeps dragging him in the direction of the street.
“Hey, you can’t, agh— you’re not allowed to kill me! I made you come in under seven minutes!”
Craig’s pulling him towards his car, he realizes and, full-on panicking now, his mind flips through all the horrible things Craig could do to him with the aid of his car—run him over, drive him to Scottsdale, Arizona, chop him up and dispose of his body parts in various states.
“The deal was, you make me come before the time is up. I came just as the time was up, which was maybe the worst experience of my life by the way.”
“That’s not my fault!” Tweek insists, but Craig is still pushing him up against his car from behind, spreading his legs apart like a cop about to frisk him. “Look, nnh, I wasn’t gonna tell anyone at Boulder anyway. No one would even care! But don’t beat me up, ergh—even my crap parents probably want a normal looking graduation photo, for the shop’s instagram or something!”
“Not gonna touch your face. You said if I won the bet, I get to pound you ‘til you’re unconscious,” Craig murmurs in his ear, reaching down to knead the flesh of his ass and pushing his hips forward ‘til his erection presses against Tweek’s low back.
“Oh,” he replies breathily, canting his hips back instinctively. Well, that’s different. “Um. Your place or mine?”