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Standing by the entrance to Tolkien's mansion makes Tweek's heart beat along with the music blasting from within the house. Fast, heavy, and loud, shrouding the blond's thoughts. People loiter by the front yard, and Tweek can't help but feel his regret manifesting itself further as he notices that everyone has someone to talk to, worsening his belief that he shouldn't have come.
Tweek doesn't know why he agreed to go to this stupid house party when there wasn't a special occasion to host one (other than it being Friday), nor was there any correlation of the party with his life. In fact, most things that went on at his school were not relevant to him at all, but more accurately, Tweek was the one who was irrelevant. Which brings him back to the vital question, why the fuck is he here?
But really, he knows why. It was a few days ago on a desolate Tuesday when he was approached by the charismatic Kenny McCormick. Tweek was no better than the girls or boys at his school, failing to resist the dirty blond's smile and his capability to make the other squirm. Kenny gave Tweek a reason to look forward to the end of the week by inviting him to the party. But now that he's thinking about it, it wasn't really an invitation, not in the sense that Kenny specifically came to the coffeehouse just to talk Tweek into attending. Kenny was simply doing one of his myriad of jobs and was dropping off a delivery and as they made their usual idle conversation, he casually said, 'Oh, yeah, there's this party at Tolkien's I'm going to, you can come if you want,'
Tweek's no stranger to lies, half-truths, diversions or misleadings, but they sound like promises coming out of Kenny's lips. He fooled himself into thinking that Kenny only acted like it didn't really matter whether he came or not in order to 'reverse psychology' the other into going. Tweek fell for his own lies, so in the end, the following events that would transpire that night were his own fault.
Tweek stood in front of the intimidating building with all the bravery that bothered to show up in tow. He walked in and was immediately taken aback by the major change in atmosphere. Outside was humid, far from the noise, and provided an easy exit. Now that escape route seems a great distance away when faced with the dim lighting, the people pushing into each other, and the overall lack of personal space. It felt hard to breathe, Tweek wanted out, but the people didn't care nor did they wait for him to finish his little moment of panic. They continued to push and bump into him in order to enter the house. The longer he stayed frozen in place by shock, the more his heart rate intensified.
Then, he was lucky for two things. 1) For nobody actually paying him, choosing fraternisation over some unknown blond child, and 2) for Bebe Stevens, for whisking him away, and being consistent with her opinions on others. Clearly she never stopped believing that he was some helpless chihuahua to be rescued. However, in this situation, it was hard to disprove.
"OhmyGod! Tweek is that you?" She says. Her voice is naturally loud, so she doesn't feel the need to yell even with the deafening music. Tweek only nods in response, not wanting to have to yell because he knows he'll have to.
"What are you doing here?" Another thing natural about her voice, is that she can never stop having a bitchy tone despite how sweet her intentions may be. Tweek averts his gaze at the subtle reminder that nobody wants him here.
"Just, agh, you know. Hanging." He says, his voice sounding alien to his own ears. The woman gives Tweek a blank stare and he has a feeling it's not because she can't hear him. He decides that it's futile to be dishonest with her, just as it's meaningless to try and attempt to adapt another personality when she sees right through his lousy efforts to seem cool. "I was told to come here..." He admits instead.
"Oh! So who invited you?" She asks in slight disbelief.
"Kenny..." Tweek suddenly feels shy when he says the name.
"Kenny? I didn't know you two were close," Tweek chooses to overlook the faint jab, though unintended it still made him realise how shocking it might be for someone to hear that someone like Tweek was close with someone like Kenny. But they aren't close, so Tweek's confidence remains unchanging as he doesn't have the rights to say, 'Yes, we are close, matter of fact.'
"W-we're not. Just- it's- um. It's hard to explain. He didn't invite- invite me, but um, ngh– Ijustthoughtwhynot." He mentally slams his head into a brick wall, failing to conceal his grimace at the way he fumbled his words. He involuntatily tics once more just to seal the deal.
Bebe continues to poke and prod Tweek's secrets out of him with her stare. She tilts her head to the side, "Okay... well. This must be your first party. Babes, I'm so sorry but I got my own agenda for the night, hence why I'm so fabulously dressed–" She gestures at her curvaceous body, "–oops, silly me! I always look gorgeous, you probably couldn't tell. But I do indeed have my own plans, but darling, if I didn't, I would've adored being the the one who gets you acquainted with how parties work! But if I see that McCormick, I'll tell him you're here, and maybe also scold him for not being a gentleman to you. Just come up to me whenever! Party, school, whatever. You're too cute to be ignored!" She pinches his cheek to emphasise her point.
She bids Tweek goodbye with a wave and leaves him to his own devices, Tweek listens to the clicking of her heels until the music eventually consumes the little comfort he had, he momentarily laments the loss of companionship. But at least he had a valuable takeaway from the interaction. He had Bebe all wrong, all this time he spent in belief that she was the one perceiving Tweek as some dog, but it was he who was in belief that she was a female one. Throughout the years, even with her popularity rising, she retained the same sweetness she had from her past. Tweek still thinks she's intimidating as hell, but he'll get over it.
Now returning to his previous, pitiful state, he looked around nervously for someone he felt comfortable enough to talk to. No one comes to mind as he thinks about it, so he loses hope prematurely. Tweek makes up his mind after a few seconds. He'll explore the mansion. Big is an understatement if one were to use that word to describe the place. He'll no doubt get lost if he doesn't quickly familiarise himself with the foreign surroundings. Plus, the best way for Tweek to appear as if he has his own objectives and wasn't absolutely clueless was to move around the mansion looking like he had a place in mind to go to. The only place he can see himself being in, though, is the bathroom.
Oh, right. Tweek supposes he does have a goal afterall. To look for Kenny. Tweek just hopes Kenny doesn't currently have other people on his mind, otherwise it would just be awkward, more than it already would be. It's foolish anyway, but he sees Kenny weekly and he's had conversations with him before, so to Tweek, it seems like a safe bet. Tweek feels like it'll be scarier than he thinks, they're outside of the safety of the coffeehouse where they only talk to each other out of politeness and not genuine interest, though the blond wishes that wasn't the case. Tonight, he's determined to change their status as mere acquaintances.
.
.
.
Navigating through the mansion when the party is at its peak is not unlike walking through a jungle. People are way more drunk and tipsy than when Tweek first arrived, and unfortunately, no other familiar faces. Tweek thinks he's covered the entirety of the first floor, so he makes his way upstairs. So far, he's not impressed with what he's seen. It's just been dancing, making out, and getting drunk and dirty. Occasionally all at once.
Even standing in front of the staircase to the second floor looks like an entire obstacle course. People are either sitting or standing on the steps, Tweek just feels like he's drawing more attention to himself as he flails clumsily whilst trying to avoid making physical contact with other people.
When he finally manages to make his way to the second floor, he is pleasant surprised to find that it's much tamer compared to downstairs. For one, the lights above are warmly toned, Tweek can now picture this as a home that a family lives in rather than a place where parties are held. Less people crowd the hallways, they interact with each other in relaxed and casual fashion, free from the music and the alcohol that spurs strangers on to be brave and inadvertently, loud. It's more comfortable up here, but it does little to quell Tweek's insecurities and anxieties at his lack of a companion.
Tweek thinks that now would be a good time to visit the bathroom. He needs to take a piss anyway, having drank an absurd amount of coffee hours before the party as a result of his nerves. He makes a mental note to drink less of other liquids, and more of just water.
As he surveys the doors, he realises the flaw in his endeavour. How is he supposed to tell the difference between a normal room and the bathroom? It's stupid, but he feels too unwelcome to even peek through each room in order to find the one place he needs to go to, this affliction fueled by his fear of accidentally barging into something no one wanted him to see. He's also far too self-conscious of how he looks to others to listen through the doors to find out the amount of people in each room, he's regarded as a creep enough as is that Tweek knows better than to let that reputation fester.
But then, he hears voices coming from one end of a hallway. It's isolated except for the two people he can hear squabbling, farther from the others. It's also a dead end, he notes. He sneaks closer, but he doesn't think he'll be heard over the volume of the voices any time soon.
"Fucking hell, you're already puking?" Person #1 scoffs.
"Hey, I didn't ask you to fucking come with, and I know you think—" Tweek assumes that from the gagging he hears, Person #2 is dipping his head down to vomit some more. So this is the bathroom. "—fuck‐ that I'm some drunkard like my dad—"
"Everyone thinks it too."
"Shut the hell up! I wasn't even drinking!"
"Then why are you making out with the toilet, freak?"
"Maybe I'm just sick of you and your fuckin'– your– you!" Person #1 snickers.
"Jesus Christ, you're so goddamn out of it."
Person #2 is lacking in retorts, for he continues to spill the contents of his stomach—and maybe his brain, too—to the toilet.
Shuffling is heard, then the tap water starts running.
"Told you not to take the shit McCormick gives you," Person #1 breaks the silence. Tweek perks up at the mention of the blond.
"Whatever. This is the last time I'm listening to you or him,"
The water comes to an abrupt stop, Tweek recognises this as his cue to stop eavesdropping and to knock on the door to create the illusion that he's just arrived. He knocks on the door and calls out a: "Anyone in there?" which was a bad move, apparently, because now he's just implied that he knows there are people there, which is why he's being considerate of whoever may be inside. Nobody fucking calls out to ask if there's anyone there, they get the hint when they try to open the door and either find someone inside or the door is locked. He should've just left.
Because of his slip-up, the door swings open and nearly thumps against the wall if not for the hand on the handle. The two men he sees in front of him are possibly the most alarming and intimidating sight he's ever seen, just their glares makes him want to cover his face with a brown bag.
They tower over him, Tweek's head is aligned with the men's chests, and he has to crane his neck to look into their faces properly, just another one of his many regrets that night. They glowered at him, face twisted in contempt. Suddenly their prior disdain for each other are now directed at him. God, why does Tweek make himself so easy to hate and to punish?
It's not like he doesn't know who these guys are. They're easily discernible as Craig Tucker and Stan Marsh. Supposedly sworn rivals or something yet they're regularly seen hanging around one another and are even considered to be a duo, much to their chagrin. And in return, Tweek isn't exactly unknown. He's very well known but the public's opinion of him isn't in his favor.
Upon realising it's just Tweek, their faces settle from aiming to maim, into apprehensive curiosity. Tweek thinks he sees Craig's eyes flicker in excitement, but he chalks it down into fear making him hallucinate.
"Oh. It's just you." Craig says, not viewing the blond before him as a threat.
Stan steps forward, his expression melts into a sickly sweet smile. "Hey, you weren't eavesdropping, were you? 'Cause that's rude, you know? It's an invasion of privacy..." Tweek sees this as a test, to see how he'll answer their attempt of pulling a confession out of him.
"Agh! I was just looking for the bathroom!"
"There's other restrooms. Why choose the one where you could hear people talking inside?"
"It was the closest at the moment...?"
Craig raises an eyebrow to express his doubt. He sighs and decides it's not worth it. Stan watches the two with a hint of something indistinct.
Tweek clears his throat, signaling that he still does need to use the bathroom and that this whole thing was just an unexpected turn. The two men comply but before Tweek shuts the door, he looks behind him and asks, "um, out of curiosity, do you know where Kenny is?"
Craig whips his head around, "Why do you think we know where he is?"
"I've just been asking anyone around, really,"
Craig clicks his tongue. "Well, I don't fucking know, freak." Stan gives the other a warning look. Luckily, Tweek doesn't take offense to being called a freak as he just heard Stan be labeled as one, too, so he figures Craig just goes around calling anyone who tests him a freak.
"He's in the basement." Stan answers but only to take Craig's place so that he doesn't lose his temper.
"Basement?" Tweek queries.
"Yeah, do you know what that is?" Stan says, exasperated.
"He spent his entire childhood in one, of course he does." Craig adds, regaining his composure as well as his confidence. Tweek ignores the comment.
The two of them are back to straight up despising Tweek, despite him doing no wrong. They seem unreasonably pissed at him, like they're supposed to have history except the blond is completely unaware of his supposed sins.
Tweek shuts the door in annoyance. What the hell's their deal? Just because they're tall doesn't exempt them from Tweek thinking they're total pussies. He can't believe he was ever afraid of what they'd do to him, it's obvious they're all the same, fragile and mentally weak. What did he ever do? So he spent majority of high school years trying his best to steer clear of their path only to be subjected this treatment regardless? They're not supposed to know or care who he is. It's ironic and Tweek finds it humorous that he's pissed off as he's pissing.
He flushes, washes his hands, dries them off, and stares into the mirror. He looks no different from when he's at school, or anywhere else for that matter. He put as much effort into looking good tonight as much as he puts milk into black coffee. His hair is getting long, his sleepless nights are evident not just from the dark hues beneath his eyes but also from his dull skin and his overall demeanor, it's true that he's basically surviving off the energy caffeine provides and not natural energy gained from rest.
As for his attire, he's pretty much predictable. He's once again dressed in a button up. It's forest green with the sleeves rolled up and the buttons misaligned as usual, he's fully given up on ever getting those right.
He inspects himself one more time before he leaves.
Tweek's expression sours visibly when he sees that the two men are still outside the door. He refuses eye contact and walks briskly to his next destination, the basement. There doesn't seem to be any other option for his relocation upon being told of Kenny's whereabouts. He doesn't know where it is or how to get there, but it's a basement so how challenging could it be? Unless it's purposely hidden, other than that, a basement is hard to miss.
With his mind preoccupied, he didn't hear the nearing footsteps quickening behind him. Tweek only realised that he wasn't done being bothered when an arm reached out to wrap itself around his shoulder, throwing him off balance, both mentally and physically.
"What are you doing?" Tweek hisses. He struggles in resistance, but easily surrenders.
It's Stan, the idiot who wrapped his arm around Tweek, "Just thought we'd show you to the basement, as a token of our sincere apologies,"
Tweek rolls his eyes, "If you want to show how sincere you are, just say the words, 'I'm sorry',"
"That doesn't work for Craig."
"Then you can leave me alone instead."
"That doesn't work for me. Besides, I think you'll need our help getting to Kenny,"
"What? Urgh– think I can't find him myself? Or that I can't go up and talk to him? For your information, we're friends." Tweek resorts to lying in a poor effort of shaking the two off him. They are so far from friendship.
"It's sad you think that's a good thing," Craig chimes in unhelpfully.
"Then why? Is it exclusive or something? In that case nevermind," Tweek moves to release himself from Stan's hold, but his grip tightens at the movement and becomes inescapable.
"We're going there, anyway,"
"Is it exclusive or not?"
Stan only shushes him with his other hand, pressing an index finger to Tweek's lips. He never looks at Tweek once, he's focused on where they're headed. The blond is grateful for it, for Craig has done well to make up for all the staring Stan missed out on. It's scary how the guy's shifted from unadulterated animosity to foreboding scrutiny.
.
.
.
Tweek hates that Stan was right about him needing their help. He doesn't want to need help, especially from these assholes, but they're the ones who volunteered, so Tweek does his best not to see himself as the 'damsel' in the situation.
He really wasn't looking forward to going back down to the first floor considering the first impression he had of it left little to be desired. However, it was much easier the second time around, and his thoughts on the difference of experience was evident as Stan felt the need to comment obnoxiously on it when he saw Tweek's bemused expression: "What did I tell ya?" Tweek simply lowered his head. Stan was not one to shy away from his intentions, if he wanted to look at Tweek he'd do it without regard for discretion, manners, or maintaining dignity. It was unfortunate that Craig was the same way.
Craig brooded quietly behind the two the whole way. Tweek felt vulnerable not being able to see what Craig looked like at the moment but he could imagine that he didn't look thrilled that Stan brought the blond with them. Or that's what Tweek believed.
At some point in their excursion, Tweek catches Bebe's eye. She's dancing with a brunet in a red varsity jacket with a drink in her hand. Bebe sends him a wink when she sees the two boys he's accompanied with but Tweek gives her a pained look, pleading wordlessly for her to realise that he wants out. However, she doesn't feel concerned, rather she thinks Tweek is being coy with his expression, but he genuinely isn't comfortable with the way things are progressing.
People sent odd looks his way, all directed at him and none at the other two which didn't seem fair because Tweek was an ordinary person in comparison to the two anomalies accompanying him. But he gets it, he understands the shock they must feel seeing Tweek surrounded by two very desirable men. Tweek hopes they even feel envious, just one night of people being envious of him of all people is enough to make him satisfied. In reality, it's not much attention but Tweek still finds himself thriving on it. Stan, ever so observant, further fuels the envy Tweek thinks is present by letting his arm travel slowly from the blond's shoulders and down to his waist.
Behind them, Craig scowls at this development. He grasps Tweek's now free shoulder and rudely drags him to the right.
"Basement's this way." Craig grumbles.
For a moment, Stan's hold on Tweek slips, but he reunites his hand with the blond's waist easily enough, albeit he elicits a sense of possessiveness that wasn't present before. The only addition is that a rough hand now clutches Tweek's shoulder harshly, making Tweek wince from the pain. Stan frowns.
"No need to rush." Stan grits through his teeth but Craig pays him no mind, content to drag Tweek wherever and however he wants.
Tweek is uncomfortable at the prospect of being caught in the middle of an argument between the two, even more so being the subject of their disagreement even though the main reason for conflict remains unclear.
People part to let the three pass without unnecessary trouble. On occasion, when Craig and Stan accidentally bump into someone, the stranger would turn around but their admonitions die on their tongue by the time they see the perpetrator/s of their mild discomfort.
When they finally make it to what he assumes to be the basement door, he sees two figures standing before it. Tweek recognises them as Wendy and Tolkien, engaged in gossip though he can't make sense of it without context.
The three stop in front of the two and Craig and Stan thankfully drop their hold on Tweek, assuming a more relaxed pose. Wendy and Tolkien send them a sideways glance and clear their throats, turning to face them.
"What's up, man?" Tolkien greets Craig. If Tweek recalls correctly, he's one of the people Craig frequently hangs out with and tolerates. Craig acknowledges his greeting with a nod.
Wendy, on the other hand, only examines Stan and Tweek separately, and then shoots Stan a questioning glare afterwards. She takes a step back from the door and Tolkien does the same.
"I hope they're not forcing you to do anything, Tweek." Wendy says out of the blue. It catches Tweek off guard.
"They are, but it's okay,"
Wendy snorts, "Is it though?" Tweek doesn't reply, knowing it was rhetorical, but he does shrug at the query.
Stan places a hand on the small of Tweek's back as he opens the door, he leads Tweek inside while the other two enter after. The staircase is narrow, but like everywhere else in the mansion, it's far from shabby. It's the nicest basement he's ever seen, it's bigger than the kitchen at the coffeehouse. Cleaner, too.
Inside are all the people he's most familiar with from elementary. Kyle, Butters, Cartman, Nichole, Heidi, Red, Jimmy, and... Kenny. Just to name a few. It's not 'exclusive', as in reserved for VIP or whatever but clearly it's meant for Tolkien's close circle of friends. Tweek feels like an intruder when he comes down, despite Stan having a reassuring hand on his shoulder, the sudden act of kindness worsens his anxiety.
It's easier to notice the newcomer when there's significantly less people and noise in the room. Red and Nichole are the first to notice him, they look amused at his arrival but promptly return to minding their own business after giving him a once-over. His uncertainty is apparent from the way the tremors in his limbs progressively worsen within the span of a few seconds. Cartman laughs shamelessly loud when he catches sight of the blond, he whispers something to Butters as he's waving at Tweek, causing him to slump and lower his hand. Kyle sees the intriguing exchange and glances Tweek's way with a raised brow. Tweek shrinks when Kyle's gaze follows him for longer than necessary. Jimmy is one of the only people who appears pleasantly surprised at Tweek's arrival, he sends him a toothy grin and for Craig, a knowing look. Nearby Jimmy is Kenny, whose eyes light up in delight when he sees the three approaching. He beckons them over with an outstretched arm.
"Stan, Craig, and... Tweek!" Kenny raises his arms up, the drink in his hand swaying. "What a welcome surprise,"
Stan turns his attention to the drinks by the counter while Craig remains behind Tweek. Surprisingly, Kenny isn't already shitfaced, but he can still feel his contagious upbeat energy radiating off his body. The blond before him notices Tweek's reserved behaviour and smiles at him.
"Blondie from the coffee place, eh, um– Tweek, right?" Tweek nods whilst keeping his gaze lowered. "I didn't think you'd be here." He pauses. "Wait, why are you here?"
Tweek bites his lip hard at the question as he freezes up. He's been asking himself that all night, but to hear it be asked aloud is nerve-wracking in an entirely different way.
Craig feigns a cough, Kenny's eyes flit upwards to the sound and his eyes widen in realisation and remembrance. "Oh, riiight, I invited you, didn't I?"
Relief washes over Tweek and he finally allows himself to look up and face Kenny properly.
'Thank God this wasn't for nothing', "Yeah. You did, haha, well I'm here..." he says breathlessly.
"Right you are! And you brought Fucker and Barf with you, I see," Kenny leans on the counter with a lazy smile.
"Argh, yeah. Sorry, I don't know if you'd rather I came alone, or with them, I didn't really get to have a say– they just followed me! Ungh! Actually I don't know if you– or I guess I, should've come at all! I wasn't even sure myself, haha, but then you said you did invite me? I was so... relieved. Thank God!–"
Kenny laughed. When he laughed, his smile spread across the entirety of his face's lower half. Tweek had never seen him laugh and had it directed at him before. "Relaaax, Tweek. You're fine, they're fine, we're all just fine. Glad you could make it."
Stan returns with a bottle of liquor in hand and slaps Kenny on the back, "Damn right," he takes a swig right after. Some of the liquor slips out his mouth and runs down his jaw, Tweek is oddly entranced.
Kenny's eyes flicker with an indistinguishable emotion, "I can tell you're still a bit... uptight. Let's get those nerves outta ya, sound good, baby?" Craig raises a brow at the petname.
Tweek doesn't question how out of the ordinary it is for Kenny to be flirting with him, or how quick he was to suggest drinking to Tweek, all he knows is that he was called 'baby' and apparently that's all it takes for him to submit. It doesn't help that Kenny's so alluring in the low light, he feels elusive even when he's already so close. But Tweek is still completely sober, however, so he's reluctant to drink, especially considering his unhealthy history with drugs.
"I don't know, Kenny, I still need—"
"Don't worry, I know you're like, all paranoid about drugs and shit, but you're in the presence of an expert, 'kay?" He tucks a strand of pale blond hair behind Tweek's ear. Tweek feels his willpower and sense of self crumble at the endearing act. "You're in good hands," he whispers.
Craig scoffs, "Cut it out, you're just belittling him at this point."
"Oh yeah? How the hell would you know? I think Tweek likes my attention, can't say the same for you," Kenny's sudden hostility comes quick and unexpected.
Craig shoots Kenny daggers, "I don't need to be Tweek to know you clearly have ulterior motives with him."
"What the hell? Like you don't, too? Do you think you're that above me you don't even need to share?" Wait, what?
"It was my fucking idea–"
"Then why can't you stick to the plan, huh? We said we would share. " Tweek struggles to catch up to the retorts they shoot back to each other, it doesn't help that they're being so vague, too.
"Maybe I change my mind."
"You can't just change your mind, we're far too into this shit, I'm far too into it to turn back. I want this. You're gonna ruin everything because of a stupid middle school crush? Like I haven't waited—"
"Shut the fuck up!"
"You shut the fuck up! So you liked hi– it for longer, that doesn't mean you have ownership over him–"
"But it does mean that I deserve this more than you do–"
"What does that have to do with you being a selfish cunt!?"
"Jesus Christ! What the fuck? I leave for a few minutes for a drink and then, you guys are fuckin', arguing like some... some ducks?" Stan luckily returns before it escalates further.
"What?"
"Who cares! Craig, stop being a prissy bitch. Kenny, be more mature–"
"Why do I need to be mature? He's the one who–"
"Oh. My. God. I can't stress enough how much I don't want to be the mediator for whatever pent up shit you guys' got going on. I'd rather you start kicking each other's ass, actually, but as it stands we have a... you know." He pauses then whispers the last part, his eyes gesturing to Tweek. "How am I drunker than both of you yet I'm still the one who knows the best?"
"You're supposed to be on my side! I thought you hated him the most out of—" Kenny begins, but Tweek tunes the noise out.
The shorter blond takes in all the information he's learned from the disagreement, he has so many questions but with the current circumstances, he thinks he'll start bleeding from the daggers they'd shoot him if he opens his mouth out of turn. He doesn't know what his involvement is in all of this, all he knows is that his presence is clearly the cause of distress. He can't help but be disappointed when he realises he'll probably have to sacrifice his own enjoyment so that Kenny and the others can enjoy the party. But it's ok, he's going to be understanding about it. Tweek is an outsider, after all.
Tweek makes a move to excuse himself but a warm hand keeps him in place.
"Where do you think you're going?" Craig asks with a dark look on his face.
"I, um, I know it's weird that I'm here when you guys don't really know me– a-and clearly it's bringing the mood down, somehow, so I think I'm just gonna go. Ngh." Tweek attempt to move but the tall man's grasp is firm.
Kenny redirects his attention to the blond and smiles, his prior irritation dissolving for Tweek's sake, "No, no. We're sorry for making you uncomfortable. We're not being very nice to you, but you don't have to leave. We'll play nice from now on." He promises.
Tweek is hesitant to believe him. Kenny's scary when he's angry and he doesn't know what he'll do if that anger is ever directed at him. Frankly, it makes him even more uncertain of this entire arrangement. "I don't know, I still think I should go, ghh, I'll see you next week, Kenny."
This time, it's Kenny that prevents him from leaving. The dirty blond grabs his hand and pulls him closer. "Don't." Tweek's heart picks up speed, he's regretful that it's not out of affection.
Tweek lets out a gasp. Stan shoots Kenny an inquisitive look, which causes the blond's grip to falter. He recollects himself, "Sorry. I just... I really want you to have a good time. I'll feel like it's my fault if you don't, 'cause I was the one who said you should come 'n all," he confesses, pouting and diverting his gaze to the floor.
Tweek chuckles with uncertainty, "It's alright, I get it, but trust me I would never blame you for something if it's not your fault."
Kenny releases a relieved sigh, "Oh, thank you. That makes me feel so much better. I'll let you go now if you're sure you want to leave."
"Um, I mean..."
"C'mon, you're more than welcome, ignore anyone else."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know, am I? I'm asking if you are."
Tweek gulps under Kenny's stare, it's so easy for the taller blond to pull his thoughts out of his mouth. "Rrgh... well, I mean I guess I can stay. But just for a bit, I–"
"Great! I knew you'd come around," Kennys places both his hands on Tweek's waist and squeezes, the blond flushes. "Ya think you're ready to try a drink, now, baby?"
Tweek nods, eager to please.
"Okay, okay, gimme a sec,"
Kenny walks behind the counter and crouches to retrieve two bottles of liquor from a cabinet. He grabs a cup and turns around, pouring the two substances together.
In the meantime, Stan has finished a little more than half of his booze. He takes Tweek's wrist and brings him over to a beanbag, he plops down and drags the blond down with him, now seated in his lap. Tweek presses his thighs together, feeling awkward and flustered. Stan drapes an arm over Tweek's abdomen, pulling him in tighter and closer. Tweek can feel his inebriation emanating off his warm body. Stan says nothing as he lowers the blond's collar and lets his hot breath land on the other's pale and unmarked skin.
Tweek is no longer able to focus on what Kenny's doing, his attention is switched to the open-mouthed kisses Stan covers his skin in. He's unsure of what to do, does he resist and risk ticking a drunk man off, or endure the man acting on his own lust? From the corner of his eye, he sees Kenny take something from one of his pockets but he thinks nothing of it as he's more concerned about his current predicament.
Craig sits on the edge of a couch nearby and flicks Stan's head. "Keep it in your pants." For once, Tweek is thankful for his existence.
Stan huffs, but otherwise ceases. And though he continues to rest his arms over his stomach, Tweek still counts it as a win.
Kenny returns soon enough, now armed with two drinks in his hand.
"One for me, aaand one for you!" He says cheerily as he hands the cup over to Tweek. Tweek accepts the drink and looks at it with concern.
"What's in it?"
"I figured you've never drank alcohol before, so I started off easy. Vodka and lemonade. I think you'll like it,"
"A w-whole cup of vodka? I don't want to doubt you, Kenny, but isn't this a bit much?"
"Oh, like I haven't seen you down an entire thermos of coffee. You can do it!"
Tweek worries his bottom lip and stares at the reflection of his eyes in the drink. Stan brings up his hand and pushes the other backwards into his chest, he then rests his head on Tweek's shoulder.
"We're all waiting for you." He speaks lowly.
Even Craig is watching Tweek impatiently, crossing his arms and leaning forward to further survey him.
"Fine. We'll drink at the same time, will that make you feel better?" Kenny looks down at him with furrowed brows and it makes Tweek feel like a disappointment. He's also very intimidating from this angle, Tweek even refuses to look directly in front of him because he'll be faced with the older boy's crotch and the idea makes his brain turn to mush.
"O-okay, agh," He murmurs.
Kenny counts down—"Three, two, one" —and then the two of them lift their heads and drink. Kenny takes a large gulp while Tweek breaks it down to separate smaller sips while Stan grins and urges him to go further. For the first time in the entire night, Tweek manages to catch the rare sight of Craig's smile, although it appears heavily sinister.
"How do you feel?" One of them asks.
Tweek takes a few seconds to process the taste of the drink, as well as the new sensations it brings him. He giggles, "It tastes good,"
Kenny gives him an enthusiastic smile, "See? I knew you'd like it!" He takes another sip from his cup, looking at Tweek as he does so as a silent suggestion to follow his actions. And Tweek does.
Over the span of a few minutes, he feels his rationality and common sense being pushed to the sidelines, impulse and carelessness taking the front. He knows he's drank way too much despite it being his first ever drink, but he trusts Kenny. He's here to have fun, and he is having fun. He has so many friends. There's Kenny... and... do Stan and Craig really count? Fuck it. They're his friends now. Even his asshole parents could be considered his friends.
However, Craig remains sober throughout. 'He's such a bummer' , Tweek thinks, but wishes to say aloud. Tweek thinks that Tucker is such a mystery. They used to be friends some time in middle school, close ones at that. He kind of misses him, even if he turned out to be so... trigger-happy. The Craig he's with now is so vastly different from the one he knew when he was twelve. The years have sculpted the man with the utmost consideration and tact. No more soft edges on his face, his gaze is sharp enough to shatter the moon, Tweek thinks.
Craig catches him staring and narrows his eyes, the absence of emotion on his face is a prominent part about him.
He feels light and floaty. Being drunk feels good. His inhibitions slowly dissolve into thin air and his foolishness grows under the guise of confidence and bravery. His self-control vanishes as he takes on bigger gulps from the bright red cup. Soon, the cup seems weightless in his hands as he empties its contents. It's dangerous, sure, but Tweek knows he's in good hands. He was promised.
The faces of his friends start to blur, Tweek giggles at the view. He forgets he's sitting in Stan's lap for a bit, wiggling his lower half onto what he thinks is a really solid beanbag, he doesn't question the gasp he hears and feels as he does so. Craig narrows his eyes at the display. Finally, the man pours himself a shot of vodka using the same bottle Kenny used just awhile ago.
"You're already drunk, Tweek?" Kenny asks with a lazy smile on his face. He looks captivating in the serene lighting, his half-lidded eyes sparkling amidst the dark.
"I guess ya are, huh?" The pretty blond chuckles
and ruffles Tweek's hair lightly when he's only met with an empty-headed expression.
Tweek looks longingly at his vacuous cup, he pouts at the loss. Craig reaches forward and pours his vodka into it, but only half. Tweek, in his intoxicated state, doesn't have the mind to contemplate the risk of drinking pure vodka without any mixers. He also doesn't notice the odd look Kenny shoots Craig as he mouths, 'Really, more?'.
By the time the blond finishes his drink a few more minutes later, he's completely out of it. He'd dropped his cup sometime ago, not even being able to muster the strength to hold on to something despite it being as heavy as a piece of paper. Currently, he sways gently in Stan's lap, mind empty and vision clouding.
He can't help but feel at ease, it's a bit disappointing that he can only be this relaxed after two drinks, like he has to be drunk just to feel good. He rests against Stan's chest, tucking himself under his chin and spreading his legs out. Stan's hands begin to wander once more, they travel along his torso, down his waist and hips, and rests on his thighs, daring to inch closer. Incertitude stirs within the depths of his stomach, but he buries those feelings and decides to relish in the attention instead.
At this point, he can barely distinguish between the voices that surround him, but he doesn't need to. Tweek gets the feeling they aren't talking to him, rather discussing about something with one another. Tweek's breath hitches and his heart rate picks up everytime Stan speaks, his unheard words send vibrations through his body as his lips lie loosely on his neck.
A few more words are spoken, and then Stan is lightly tapping Tweek on the cheek to check up on him.
"You still there?" He addresses Tweek, searching his face. Tweek isn't sure. He struggled just digesting the very question. In spite of the liquor taking over his mind, he nods and mutters out a quiet, "Uh-huh,".
Craig says something to Stan that flies past Tweek's ears. A second later and Stan is hooking his forearms under Tweek's armpits and lifting him up. He stumbles as he's hoisted up. Kenny soon takes Stan's place, guiding Tweek's arm around his shoulders while he puts a firm hand on the shorter blond's waist.
Tweek is barely mentally present anymore, his consciousness threatens to slip away and his light-headedness is aided by the sudden change in position and the extra energy it's taking him just to stay upright, even with Kenny's assistance.
The three lead Tweek to the stairs. Climbing stairs have never been more difficult. Tweek is constantly slipping, and the only thing stopping him from falling and cracking his head open are the three men who use their hands to support his back.
It's a wonder how no one even tried to intervene that night. How no one thought it was suspicious that the three young men all crowded Tweek. How Stan and Craig even went so far as to bring him down here, away from the mass majority. How touchy Stan was being, how Kenny's kindness was a tool for diversion, or even the intensity of Craig's stare; his silence was heavier than a boulder.
When they exited the basement, Tolkien and Wendy were nowhere to be found. Bebe and the guy she was with weren't either. Not that Tweek would be able to tell had they been. The party's spirit had not dimmed even once during the third of an hour they'd been down in the basement. If a lot of people were tipsy before, then most of them were wasted by now. It made dragging Tweek around while avoiding prying eyes way easier.
But the rowdiness of the crowd only heightened the effects the drugs had on Tweek. The dark atmosphere of the first floor obstructed Tweek's vision. A single blink lasted a full second as his mind ran, questioning where his sense of sight went. A part of him wanted to question everything as a way of retaliation, to hopefully draw someone's attention to the fact that he was clueless and unarmed. Tweek cursed his reputation for no one in the house would want to go out of their way to help someone they'd like to see suffer.
It felt as if Tweek's ears had its own pulse. Each beat of music throbbed painfully in his head, reverberating and knocking on his skull. He was getting more out of it by the second, he might as well have been astral projecting. He'd already forgotten what was happening five minutes ago, not recalling that he was being accompanied by three very highly deceitful men who had succeeded in disarming him by something that seemed good-natured.
Tweek's eyes flickers as he looks around, Kenny tightens his grip and returns his gaze with an ominous look. As time passes, Tweek's sobriety completely diminishes and all that's left in him is a swelling sense of shame produced by his naivety. His limbs fall apart like an avalanche as they're reduced to the same viscid consistency that jelly possesses.
His mind and body teeters on the edge of a precipice and time is the thing that finally tips him over. What Tweek thinks is a blink dwells for longer than it should and soon his eyelids refuse to open anymore. In a matter of a few seconds, Tweek staggers and loses his hold on consciousness before everything goes dark, light leaking through his shuttering eyelids.
.
.
.
Tweek awakens agonisingly slow. He registers the sound of rhythmic thumping and filthy squelching before he feels the sudden burst of pain and forceful stimulation coming from his lower half. His eyes shoot open and frantically search his surroundings.
"Aaangh! What the fuck!?–" He begins to yell but Kenny—who kneels before him—is quick to react and clamps his mouth shut with a hand. Tweek attempts to reach around but he realises that his wrists are bound behind him by an unknown piece of cloth. He only feels a toned body behind him, moist with sweat and generating an absurd amount of heat. A familiar voice sighs, Tweek scrunches his nose at the invasive smell of liquor. A split second later and Tweek just realises their states of undress, he feels nauseous and full of regret at his actions when he decides to look down.
Once again, Tweek finds himself sat on Stan's lap, albeit this time is much, much worse. Tweek's legs are spread wide open and Kenny has a hand under one of his knees to pull him apart further. Tweek's stripped of all his clothes, his pale skin exposed for all to see. Kenny's cock disappears into Tweek's sopping wet cunt, pumping in and out of him at a rapid and dizzying pace. Beneath all of it, where Tweek can't see but only sickeningly endure, he feels the burning stretch of Stan's girthy cock inside his ass, thankfully unmoving yet still stretching him out achingly. Come pours out of his pussy while he's being pounded into, suggesting that this isn't the first he's been defiled, that there's more Tweek had been unavailable for. On top of feeling repulsed, he doesn't know if he should be grateful he wasn't awake to experience it. His stomach bulges because of the two cocks inside of him.
Kenny slows his movements but remains deep inside of him to greet him with a wide grin full of delight and hints of intoxication that floats through the air when he speaks.
"Oh, hi! Good nap, huh?" He addresses Tweek in an obnoxiously taunting manner. Tweek's first reaction to that is to jerk and thrash around, but unfortunately for him, his body has not caught up with his mind and remains unbeknownst to the situation he's in. His actions are sluggish and ultimately futile, they do nothing to retaliate against the utter horrors and violations being committed to him.
The drinks' effects haven't wore off completely—much to their delight—as it only takes a steady hand on Tweek's chest to contain the wildness he wishes so badly to release.
Stan frowns at the disturbance that Tweek's struggling causes. He moves his hands to Tweek's hips in order to hold him in place, "Fuck, stay still, won't you?" He breathes out.
"N-no! Fuck, let me go!" Tweek flails in his grasp. Stan groans but doesn't bother to push any more. Kenny only laughs at him.
"Like that drink I made you, baby?"
Tweek snaps his head up at the older blond, "What the fuck did you put into it?! Mmnh!" Despite how badly he wants to resist, it's undeniable that it still elicits lust and pleasure, he can't help but let a sharp moan slip out.
Kenny doesn't reply with words, instead he grips Tweek's thighs and rams into him hard and deep, managing to draw out a shout from the blond's lips.
Footsteps are heard a distance away, Kenny looks over and smirks. Tweek follows his gaze shortly after and his eyes widen with fear when he sees Craig walking into the room, having just arrived from the bathroom. Tweek shudders and his breath hitches when they make eye contact, for multiple reasons. He almost can't believe that he'd manged to forget about him, even if he was too busy reeling from the predicament he'd woken up to.
"He woke up," Kenny informs simply.
Craig clicks his tongue, "I see that." Tweek's words get caught in his throat, he's only able to let out a strangled noise when Stan bucks his hips upwards.
Craig advances and climbs onto the bed, he ends up kneeling beside Tweek's head, his crotch meeting the blond's face exactly. Tweek gulps when he hears the irrefutable sound of a zipper being undone. Next thing he knows, Craig's soft dick is being pulled out of his black boxers, and despite it's flaccid state, he simply pries Tweek's mouth open with a seemingly immune expression and his thumb and shoves Tweek's head forward without warning, letting the wet warmth of Tweek's mouth engulf his dick. Craig bites his lip and inhales sharply.
"Ghkkk–", Craig doesn't leave room for Tweek to pull away or be hesitant, he grasps his hair tightly and holds his head down so that Tweek's nose is pressed against his pubes and his chin against his balls. "Mmmph!" Tweek screams through it all though they come out muffled and therefore rendered vain. However, Craig doesn't show any signs of annoyance. But he does smirk above him.
"Go ahead, honey, scream. It only makes it feel better, dumbass." he laughs. Tweek always feels stupid around the older boy, this time is no different. It doesn't matter what Tweek does, as long as Craig's there, he's sure to shut him down and belittle him in all the meaningful ways.
The only thing stopping Tweek from breaking into a panic attack are the lasting effects of the drugs, which are still very strong. Tweek wishes he would panic though, so this entire thing would just end up as one big blur, he doesn't want to remember any of this, even though he might not once or if he ever makes it to sunrise.
To make matters worse, this is his first time, before this he was a virgin. Being a virgin was like a silent statement that automatically made Tweek seem innocent and pure. He wasn't. He'd had fantasies, like everyone else, of course. He'd wanted to be desecrated, tainted, ruined. But not like this, never, ever like this. Not by his elementary school boyfriend, his parent's supplier, and someone he once thought he could actually befriend. Not in a party, where so many people are attending, so many people in the house and yet none of them can help Tweek now. Not by people he'll still have to see in school and around town if he manages to survive this surreal experience. Anything else.
It doesn't take long for Craig's cock to harden while inside Tweek's mouth. He finally pulls away, allowing Tweek a few blissful seconds for air to rush to his lungs before he'll inevitably have to go back to being choked with a cock down his throat. As Tweek predicts, his head is pushed down onto the now hardened dick, which is so much bigger than Tweek can properly comprehend in his disoriented state. It's long, thick, and covered in Tweek's saliva.
Craig doesn't wait, his patience disappearing into thin air once he's feeing fully aroused, he's got his priorities straight. He begins to manoeuvre Tweek's head back and forth on his cock in a disorderly and borderline animalistic pace, ignoring the blond's excessive gagging everytime he forces his dick to hit the back of Tweek's throat.
Stan chuckles, it's his second sign of consciousness since this entire thing so far. He reaches a hand up to Tweek's throat to feel the imprint that comes and goes from Craig fucking the blond's mouth wildly. " Fuuuck, Tweek," Is all he says breathlessly, like he's admiring Tweek's suffering.
Tweek writhes against his restraints once more, his legs kick up uncontrollably. He keeps forgetting to breathe through his nose even though that's what he's been doing for his entire life. Stan buries his head in the space between Tweek's neck and shoulders and bites down before sucking on the skin like a leech.
Craig notices Tweek's troubles, and in his usual asshole fashion, he doesn't do anything to help, in fact, he goes out of his way to worsen Tweek's struggles by pinching his nose shut. Tweek's eyes fly open after being squeezed shut for a long time. If he was scared before, then he was practically dying now, but honestly he doesn't know if he'll be his own death or if Craig will kill him faster.
Kenny—who's been watching Tweek carefully this whole time—lets a smile that rivals that of the Cheshire cat's grace his face. "That's so fucking hot," He laughs out, positively delirious at the sight of Tweek's absolutely terrified expression. He begins to fuck Tweek faster and with even more vigor, implementing more force into his thrusts, beginning to rock the blond's body. It makes Tweek's throat constrict but because of Craig's cock deep inside it contradicts the action, causing him to choke, the loss of air starts making him feel lightheaded and he thinks he's about to pass out again.
Craig only lets up when Tweek starts losing the strength to even blink or focus on anything. Tweek sucks in a much needed breath of air, coughing and sputtering when his mouth his released. Tweek doesn't even think about saying a word, his throat is so hoarse and sore that speaking would most likely only pain him. His head falls to the side, his breath is shaky as is the rest of his body.
It seems that Craig is having a moment of generosity and kindness, because he doesn't force Tweek's head back down. Instead he's content to stroke himself until Tweek regains just enough composure for him to deepthroat again.
Meanwhile, by the time Stan fully pulls away from Tweek's skin, his neck is covered with hickeys that the blond is sure to hate himself for soon enough. Stan kisses his way up to Tweek's earlobe, "You're so beautiful, Tweek..." he whispers as he caresses the blond's cheek with his knuckles. It's regretful that he had to say it in these circumstances, any other time and Tweek would've been head over heels. The one time he's complimented like this and it's when he's being robbed of his virginity and sanity. It's the nicest thing anyone has said to him in a while, too.
Kenny reaches down to rub Tweek's clit as he's being fucked within an inch of his life. Tweek whimpers at the added sensation.
After a while, Craig deems it okay for him to go back to sticking his cock into Tweek's mouth, so he does. He grabs the sides of Tweek's face and once again lets the blond's mouth take his dick. Tweek is grateful that he's more careful this time, not wanting a repeat of a few minutes ago.
Craig settles into a more controlled rhythm that Tweek can handle, although Craig does feel distaste that he has to control himself when he should be able to use the blond as he wishes.
"Stan, switch places with me." Craig demands.
It takes a few more calls before Stan actually replies, "Shit, whatever."
Craig looks expectantly at Kenny, who rolls his eyes in annoyance but complies nevertheless.
It doesn't take too long before they've situated themselves into the new position. Tweek was like a ragdoll throughout, letting himself be manhandled for their convenience.
Kenny retains his position, it's only Craig and Stan that have switched places, as requested earlier. Tweek barely realises that anything has changed until he feels Stan's dick slap across his cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against Tweek's sloppily, which Tweek finds gross but he's in to place to fight back.
Under him, Craig spreads Tweek's ass open as he enters torturously slow. Tweek whines loudly and arches his back off the other man's body as he's stretched open once more, but this time he's actually and regrettably conscious to feel Craig's cock split him open.
Before he can get any louder, Stan grabs his chin and forces him to face him. He urges Tweek to open his mouth by pressing the tip of his dick on his pink and plump lips. The blond reluctantly does so, but he's less inclined to scream because Stan is being much more patient with him, though he's aware it's only because Stan's thoughts are slowed due to his drunkenness. Tweek doesn't even want to think about how he is when he's fully capable of thinking properly.
Tweek opens his mouth and takes Stan's cock in, with his tongue hugging its underside. Unlike with Craig, who went straight to the point and fucked his mouth mercilessly, Stan didn't want to do much work and allowed Tweek to bob his head, only pushing further in when he felt like it.
Meanwhile, Craig already began bucking his hips up into Tweek. He was inconvenienced by their position, so he wasn't able to do much apart from lodge himself deep into Tweek while shifting himself around. He'd have to wait until the rest have come before he'd get to have Tweek all to himself, hoping that he'd be fucked out enough by the other two that he would do nothing to fight back against instinct and just give in to the shit Craig has waited to do to Tweek for ages.
Kenny had been going at it for a while, ramming in and out of Tweek with seemingly endless stamina. He looked lost in bliss. It's not an unknown fact that Kenny is somewhat of a whore, this had probably been a fantasy of his for the longest time, too, although he'd probably thought of something different when he'd be fucking Tweek for the first time. He imagined he'd be doing it with Tweek bent over the counter, or over one of the tables while wiping it clean whilst Kenny pounded him from behind. Not that he lost the chance to do it, he could very well still do it any time he wanted to. He's proved that rape is not beneath him.
Abruptly, Kenny's body began to convulse, he leans forward and places a hand on Tweek's belly bulge gently. He started to pant erratically, his climax drawing near.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" He chanted swears to himself, then he began with Tweek's name, "Tweek, Tweek, Tweek—" and then he comes with the blond's name on his tongue. His voice rises as he gives a few more harsh thrusts, riding out his orgasm until he's sucked of everything he has to give. His grip leaves red imprints on Tweek's soft flesh. His dick twitches, come spurts out and overflows Tweek's previously filled hole. The semen oozes out lewdly, it trickles down his ass, lubing his asshole further.
Kenny plays with Tweek's sensitive nipples as he pulls out steadily, pinching and twisting while the younger blond squirms at the feeling. He lingers around for a bit, but eventually backs away and collapses into the bed, heaving but satisfied.
Being awake to feel Kenny come inside him is vastly different than them using his unconscious body. He's being insulted, humiliated, and toyed with. Tweek knows they're not nearly drunk enough themselves to be unaware of the harm they're doing. They chose to drug Tweek. They viewed him as something so unattainable that they believed the only way they could have him was if they forced him into submission. Tweek hates that it's working. He hates that he can't fight back, he hates it even more that he was so gullible. So easy to trick.
Tweek feels tears fall on his face, the wetness makes him uncomfortable and he laments the loss of his mobility.
Stan reaches down to feel Tweek's soaked pussy, he inserts two fingers inside that slide in with ease. When he's knuckle-deep in, he curls his fingers up onto Tweek's G-spot after feeling around his walls. Tweek sucks in a breath. The come inside him squelches everytime Stan shifts around. Stan doesn't thrust in and out, instead he pulls his hand toward himself repeatedly, pushing back and forth around and inside without actually dislodging his fingers.
Tweek spasms uncontrollably with each impactful motion while Stan groans in pleasure and throws his head back because of the vibrations surrounding his cock caused by Tweek's moans.
Tweek's toes curl and his fingers long to hold on to something tangible. His hips quiver wildly and with a muffled shout, he comes, fluids spraying and gushing out onto the sheets. Kenny watches closely, and although he's already hard again, he opts for jacking himself off lazily at the sight. Tweek trembles, his body is wracked with the aftershocks of an intense orgasm.
Stan follows not long after. With his fingers still deep inside, he uses his other hand to guide Tweek's head further onto his cock until the blond meets the hilt. He locks eyes with Tweek briefly. Ultimately, it's the sight of Tweek peering up at him with wide, tear stricken eyes and reddened cheeks that pushes him over the edge. He comes with a breathy moan and a shudder. Tweek has no option but to swallow the load, but it barely counts as swallowing because Stan's cock is so far down his throat he doesn't need to.
When Stan pulls away, a small string of saliva connects Tweek's lips to his cock. The tip is red, and the rest of it glistens with drool. Stan takes a moment to stroke Tweek's pussy, then brings his fingers up to his mouth to savour the taste.
Eventually, Stan backs away, albeit it's more of a stagger because of his insobriety. He lies down onto the bed, mind already beginning to drift away, most possibly into sleep.
It's unfortunate that Tweek isn't allowed that same privilege. Instead what he gets is a grunt before he's immediately pulled off of Craig's dick and flipped to be face-first on the mattress. Craig takes hold of his hips and hoists it up high, he doesn't waste a second, he slams back into Tweek like it's his rightful place to be inside the blond.
Tweek cries out, his thighs begin to shake. Craig clutches his hair and pushes it into the bed, Tweek bites the sheets to cover his debauched noises. Craig doesn't want to wait any longer, he starts fucking into Tweek wildly, the bed creaks while the older boy snaps his hips in quick yet precise succession.
"F- fuck– look at you, that's right, fucking scream—" He grunts out, Tweek's mind buzzes loudly, he can barely comprehend the words being spat at him. Craig lifts Tweek's head by his hair and moves his hand to his throat instead, applying pressure. This only makes Tweek attempt to suck in more desperate breaths, but they get stuck, resulting in stifled wheezes.
Tweek's eyes begin to water once more before he truly breaks out into a convoluted mess of wails, screams, and gasps. He tries to push himself off the bed but it's useless with his hands still tied together. He can't even muster the strength to tell Craig to slow down, he can only sob dishevelledly with his tears and saliva staining the sheets.
Craig scowls when he sees the tears flowing down Tweek's red cheeks. He brings one hand up and brings it back down to deliver a harsh smack to his ass, the sound bouncing off the walls. Tweek flinches.
"Stop fucking crying, you basically asked for this to happen," another slap, "you never should've come here, but you just couldn't resist, could you?" Tweek wants so badly to refute and to deny this endlessly. It's not his fault he was fooled into trust. But maybe it is, he allowed himself to drink substances he knew he couldn't handle all for the sake of pleasing the three. But it really isn't his fault, right? Normal people don't do this, this isn't what's supposed to happen to him, it's not his fault that he was told he was the weird one. Craig, Kenny, and Stan were supposed to be the ordinary ones, but they're freaks, and suddenly it's not comforting to know that there are people worse than him.
" N-no! I— I– mmph!" Tweek just cries louder in denial of it all. With the hand on his hair, Craig brings his face closer to himself, with a scornful expression, he uses his other hand to slap Tweek on the face. For a second, Tweek just gasps with his eyes flying open, distress written all over his face. He's in disbelief, but then, 'Oh God, this is actually happening, isn't it? And I can't stop it or make it better, no one's coming for me, I can't move,' and the heartbreaking truth washes over him.
Up until now, he was perfectly okay with believing this was all a nightmare, but it's not. This is real. It's happening. Years of paranoia fueled thoughts that would always swarm his mind, and tutorials for self-defense could not prepare him for this scenario because no matter what, his fear would come first and efforts against harm were reduced to mere memories rather than instructions or assurance.
"Use your words, whore." Craig grits out. Tweek doesn't listen.
Truthfully, he thinks he might die. Between his worsening and festering self-hatred and regret, and Craig fucking his way into his heart, he really might die. Let his ghost escape through his mouth, his physical body would collapse and would not wake.
"Don't pass out on me, honey," Craig commands, the strength of his hold on Tweek's throat thankfully abates, even if by a faint amount. The rest of his movements remain unwavering and merciless, though. The obscene sound of skin slapping against one another fills the room, but they're incomparable to Tweek's weeping, which continues to be distraught and as if they were pulled out directly from the depths of his stomach by Craig's own hands.
"Please– uunghh— please, stop! Make it stop, make it stop, haaah," Tweek's losing his volume, his voice resides in helpless, miserable pleas.
"I like you better when you're choking on cock like a filthy slut." Craig decides. He sounds so far away, Tweek doesn't even process it, but that may be for the better.
"Please, please, please, I can't— hhngh!" Tweek babbles freely.
It goes on for a while. Tweek would cry and beg, he'd ask for forgiveness, for mercy, he'd apologise despite having done nothing wrong. It never works. He's greeted with harsh spanks or slaps either on his face or on his ass, both cheeks are red, either way. Craig is unrelenting, he starts to lose his precision, his thrusts focus more on his own pure, unbridled desire rather than maximising the pain he can release onto Tweek. Both of them ache for release, Tweek wants Craig to let him go, while the other craves nothing more than to fill the boy beneath him with his seed so he'll never forget.
Soon enough, the movement of Craig's hips stutter, he curses repetitively as he nears climax. In one final moment, he pulls out completely and slams back into Tweek with the same strength as the first time he did it, and he unravels. Craig groans and sighs above him, his anger wanes and relief takes over. Tweek does a full-body jerk at the feeling of being filled. The last place of him untainted, now sullied with his rapist's sperm.
Tweek whimpers and sniffles. When Craig finally pulls out, he examines Tweek's form and feels only unabashed satisfaction at his ruined state. Tweek's muscles relax at last, though they twitch every so often as he's still trying to recollect the parts of himself that had been fucked out of him. Tweek's asshole gapes open, Craig drinks in the sight of his come leaking out. The blond's ass is cherry red from the abuse, his body is littered with bites and marks, all of it is evidence of his deflowering. It contrasts addicitngly with his pale skin that manages to preserve its beauty despite the majority of it having been tarnished.
"Not... inside..." is Tweek's delayed response. His mind is empty, ripped apart and robbed of the many thoughts that used to both torture him and keep him company.
Tweek's body gives up. His pulse is the only thing he can comprehend. His eyes roll into his head and he can't even wait long enough for Craig to finally untie him before he starts slipping away for the last time this night.
The last thing he does hear that didn't come from himself is the hushed voices of two people. Tweek can't be bothered to care, his energy depletes and then the best thing happens to him.
Everything fades to black.