It was as simple as that.

Getting into Tweek's pants, I mean. All I had to do was spike his coffee with flavorless vodka and he practically did the rest.

That's the funny thing about alcohol-for some people it makes them cry like little bitches and for others it mellows them out, like me, or makes them fucking pissed. Or, in Tweek's case, makes them completely horny.

No shit, after a couple mugs full of half-n-half (half coffee, half vodka, that is), he stopped freaking out over every little thing, stopped shaking too, and crawled over to me, nuzzling his body to mine.

His fingers plucked at the buttons on my jacket out of habit-out of flirt-and a slow, sloppy smile curved up his lips. "H-hey-y," he slurred, catching the end of it with a giggle.

"Mmm, yeah?" I dared to brush my fingers back into his hair. He didn't jerk back like he usually did. Just pressed more against me as if my touch were an unspoken invite.

He turned his dark-rimmed coffee-colored eyes up to me, fingers fidgeting, shoulder jerking up to some internal rhythm. Once. Twice. Then, when it stilled, Tweek skimmed his smile down across my jaw in, what I can guess, a rite of seduction.

"I-I'ma," he murmured, tongue thick with alcohol, "booored." He popped open a few of my jacket buttons. "We should-um-we sh-should do sumthin'."

I 'mm-hm'ed him. He pushed open my jacket in reply. ". . . what do you want to do?"

His answer was quick, his mind not giving in to his usual hesitation. "Fuck."

Apparently, vodka tore down all sorts of barriers with him. Tweek, except in rare bouts of extreme paranoia, never swore. And I do mean never. So, you can't blame me for teasing him, can you?

"Uh-huh. Prove it, Tweek." I say this as if I couldn't already tell, from the open jacket, from the slick kisses he planted down my neck, that he wanted to do something like that. As if I didn't want to do the same things with him.

But he figured I was speaking the truth. You could see it in the way his brow furrowed up as he thought, thought, thought of someway to convey that, yes, he was horny as hell and wanted me to fuck his goddamn brains out. A few moments passed, I heard each soggy, dusty gear in his skull trying to complete a rotation, before his mouth parted and he sucked in a dainty gasp.

"Oh-" His eyes glittered with mischievous delight-he'd thought of something and, by that smirk, it was gonna be good.

"P-prove i-i-it," he murmured, hiccupped, slurred down my jaw, neck, collarbone. My wife-beater got bunched around my shoulders, Tweek's hands plowing it up and out of his way. "T-take it off. J-ja-a-acket, toooo." He giggled and rocked back; my shirt fluttered back down over my skin.

I hooked my thumbs beneath the hem, tugging it up over the muscles of my runner-toned stomach, my assent teasingly slow. Tweek whined at me to, "Hurry, hurry, hurry!" I went even slower.

Moving his hands back, Tweek grasped my jacket, tearing it off before I had the breath to protest and, before it had settled on the floor, his nimble fingers made the same quick work of my tank. It fluttered over to rest on top of my jacket, a black, symbol-less flag. If white means surrender than black must mean battle.

Tweek fought me out of my skinny-jeans next, pulling them off surprisingly without a strain of effort, chanting, "Pro-prove it. Pro-prove iiit" the entire time.

Naked, with only my boxers clothing my obvious hard-on, Tweek bent over me, his hot, sticky mouth falling down to my skin. He licked, he kissed, for some God-given reason he even fucking bit-I still have bruises dusting my flesh a deep black-n-blue-and it felt so goddamn good that I can't even explain it.

When he clamped that pretty drunk mouth of his over one of my nipples, sucked it while pressing the flat of his tongue to the perk tip, I fucking thought I was going to jizz from the feeling of that by itself. But, Mother of God, I think I did cum when he slipped his hands down into my boxers and groped his fingers around my dick.

He giggled at me again-I felt it vibrate up my ribs and my humerus until it rattled my skull with a pleasant, Tweek-induced buzz. And if I wasn't enjoying his attempt to prove that he wanted to fuck, I would've just cut it short, flipped him over and boned him until he passed out around my dick. Probably afterwards too.

Thank God he couldn't tell just how turned on I was, though, or he wouldn't have done what he did next.

Little sneak distracted me with another bite, one down near my navel where his yellowed teeth sank into my tender skin and made me moan. Next I knew, my boxers were gone, capping the top of the Craig-only clothing pile and I was naked as the day I was born. Except fucking hard enough to hump my way through a cement wall. And dribbling pre-cum. And hot. And horny-

Okay, it took a lot to keep me against the mattress. Tweek's hundred-pound frame was hardly an obstacle. Not that I was gonna throw him off of me, not with his mouth doing such amazing things. More licks and nips and murmurs, that I haven't felt since the time me and Kenny fucked each other on the school roof stoned, were pressed into my skin, burning me up with want, need, and full thrown-desire.

Since when could Tweek do these things to me? Was it the alcohol, the way it relaxed Tweek's innate worries and fears, lubed up his joints, and gave him the courage to kiss my skin? Or was it something other? Like, well-I frowned at the thought and sank further against the headboard. There was a dull thunk as it rammed into the wall; my sister, watching the Princess and the Frog ('Don't you derogate or deride. . .' I heard, slipping through the pores in the drywall) yelled at me to shut the fuck up. Though I wasn't talking and she probably only just barely heard it anyway.

Tweek didn't catch any of it, if there was anything to catch, I mean. He was still leap-frogging his mouth down over my naked skin, still biting every now and again-sometimes hard enough to bruise and sometimes soft enough to draw a wanting moan from my throat. Tweek heard those well enough, and I know because he seemed to move down a little quicker with each one.

'Till he ran out of room, that is. Or, hell, I guess he reached his destination, actually.

He dipped his head between my thighs, red lips parted and blowing hot, moist puffs against my dick, his nose buried in the tufts of my pubic hair. And he giggled. My cock twitched.

"Mmm. Go on," I provoked, raising my hips up a bit. "Prove it. Fucking prove it."

"Pro-prove iiit," he giggled back, and, God, he proved it all right. With a little hiccup, he brought his lips down until they touched skin, pinched it between his lips in a teasing pull, and finally sucked my leaking cock into his mouth. At the sound of my hungry moan, he sucked even harder, tongue slipping against my flesh in teasing, fleeting licks. Then he bobbed his head down, cock going deep-throat, and I saw fucking stars.

Fingers twisting, knotting, pulling in Tweek's hair, I forced him to move back, forward and to take it when I rocked my hips with him, fucking his mouth. It turned him on as much as it made my insides hot with pleasure, because he moaned around me and nursed my dick like a good boy.

A good boy who knows how to turn a trick or two.

Like the shudder-inducing twist-and-flick of his tongue that made me buck up and cum. Goddamn.

With a grunt, I jerked back Tweek's head by his hair and licked my lips at the expression etched across his face. Part mild surprise, mostly lust and want and undeniable need to get off. A quick glance to his tented pants told me more than half that story; an inquisitive hand, slipped down past the cold cloth to the warmth throbbing beneath, told me the novel in its entirety.

"Does sucking me off turn you on," I whispered out, watching as he parted his lips to moan out my name, head tilting to-and-fro in a half-nod. I curled my hand around him, his dick already slick from my touch, as a reward for answering.

"G-god, Craig, please-" He swayed into me, drew back, and then came grinding forward again, his sinful mouth still parted open as if expecting me to kiss him, to lick the cum-flavor straight off his teeth. It took me a delayed second to realize he was practically humping my hand for the friction it took to get him off. I promptly removed my hand and he slid up against me, lips like butterflies flittering from here to there, barely making enough contact to be rightfully called kisses, in amends. "No-no-no-no," he chanted, a mantra mumbled out to invoke more pleasured touches, "Please, Craig, please, please-"

Curling his fingers around my wrist, he moved my hand back over his crotch, half-forcing me to rub my palm down over his bulge. I jerked my hand back and Tweek whined until I pressed a finger to his lips to dam the torrent of noise.

"Shut up." He obeyed, but only, I think, because I gave him the gratification of touch. "Undress." This command took him a little over sixty seconds to follow because his fingers kept fumbling over buttons and zippers and the layers of his shirts. And I, sitting back against the bed to just observe, didn't help him shed a stitch of it. When he matched me in attire, I leaned forward and gave him a tentative, teasing, tortuous kiss as another reward.

"Now," I told him as I moved away, Tweek following me as if our lips are connected by a thin, invisible thread that he intended to sew our mouths together with-I have to splay my hand across his chest and gently prod him to a stop before he has the chance to get that far. "Touch yourself."

He stared at me, unable to process what I had said through his alcohol-slurred brain. When I repeated it, his brown eyes shimmered, bright, but he made no move to tease himself.

So I reminded him how to do it.

"Like this," I murmured, reaching down between my thighs to slide my fingers down, down, down and over, encircling, just ghosting the skin.

Tweek sucked in a breath, his own hand copying the path mine had just made and dipping further down his body. I watched as his fingers, light and twitching, graze up and over his dick in self-teasing strokes, provoking slippery beads of pre-cum to surface and drip to his awaiting fingertips. A symphony of noises-gasps, partial moans, airy sighs-blew out from between his lips and straight into my ears. And when he caught my shudder, as he was still watching me touch my re-hardened dick, he turned his gaze up to my half-lidded eyes. In that one look, a thousand different desires screamed their pleas at me.

Only one word, out of the throes of millions, was given life and propelled out, amongst his endless noise, into the warm air: "Please-"

Done with just idly sitting and viewing the show, I nodded and Tweek instantly sank down into the mattress, legs spread in wait for me. Moving forward, grazing up skin-to-skin, I gave him the gift of an actual, desperate-dripping, kiss which he returned with a blazing fervor. One of his hiccupping moans slipped into my mouth, tasting of sex, and I swallowed it down with another bone-rattling quake.

Hands moving too fast, hearts etching tattoos into skin aching for friction, we collided. My bed cried out beneath our combined lurch but I barely heard it over the intermingle of Tweek's and of my own muffled moans. Pleasure bloomed between us like erect flowers and swept lava over us, burning us down, melting us to marrow.

His fingers, nails sharp like crescent moons, dug into me, solidifying me and reminding me of my humanity. Of him. Of his still-throbbing wants. Of my own wants and needs that mirrored his own.

Pushing his legs up to his ears, his bones flexible enough to arch back without a lick of effort, I started to move. At first, in a crawl where I tested how I needed to turn my hips just in the right way to hit the one spot that'd make Tweek see Heaven. Then, when he came up off the bed, fingers pressed so hard in my shoulders they could've struck bone, I moved faster, angled like that, dick pounding into his prostrate over and over and making him turn to liquid against my sheets.

And, like water, he streamed out a constant flow of noises. Moans, rumbled low in the back of his throat-squeaks, pitched directly into my mouth-unspoken words that tasted heavy on his tongue and rang in my ears like echoes off the Colorado mountains. My own sounds, deep moans and grunts of effort, were lost in the torrent, unheard.

Until the kiss broke.

Then each sound dove into my ears, each "Mhmmm, Craig-uh-ahhh-Th-th-ere!" and each request, "Faster-f-fast-uuh-un-C-craig-", filled my head until that was the only noise I was conscious of.

Body moving, automatically, to his spoken demands, I moved my hips-back, forth, in, out, naked, consumed-as Tweek twisted beneath my hands, his skin slick with sweat and slipping out from under the bruising pressure of my fingers. He, and I don't know how 'cause I could barely remember how to think, with all the pleasure, all that heat, all that-all of Tweek-in my skull, filling it to the brim and over with that mixture- but he had the sense to hook his bony legs over my shoulders, clamp them firmly and hold him in the position my hands had bent him in. I moaned out a grateful "Thanks" and slammed forward again, hips to hips, and moaned again at the ease I slid inside him.

Tweek matched me, groan for groan, move for move, and I noticed, as I looked down at him, sweat beading on my forehead and dripping down like tears to his blushing cheeks, that he was almost there. His panicked brow was knotted again, in concentration, as he tried to hold back, to prolong the movement of our bodies.

I felt it too. The pressure, the hot, building pressure in my abdomen and knew, no matter how long Tweek could resist, that I'd be cumming soon. Real, real, oh God, soon.

To quicken the inevitable, I moved my free hand down to Tweek's cock, sticky-slick and twitching under my touch, and flicked my wrist in time to my slamming thrusts, drawing up his hips and a loud moan from his open mouth.

"Uhhh-Oh, Jesus, C-craig-!" I clenched my hand around him at the mention of my name and I felt his nails break through my skin. The pain and the feel of passion-hot blood sliding down my back only made my stomach clench with the flutter of euphoria. "Unf-like that, like that, Oh Jesus, do-don't stop-"

"Cum," I dropped the word, a growl, to his throat in a ravishing kiss, tongue licking the salt off his skin.

The word sent a shudder rippling through his skin-I felt it; it shook through me too. His back lifted, arched over the rumpled sheets of the bed, and I slipped into him again, hard; our bodies, close before, fused together, knitted and fitted us both. I felt his pleasure and he felt mine.

Alone, it was great, but together. . .together, it was too much.

With a cry, a loud one that I'm sure Ruby heard over her fucking movie, that struck the air, filled it with static like lightning, Tweek came, the sticky warmth of it getting on my stomach and his. It would be like an adhesive unless we moved, but, fuck, that was the last thing on my mind as I followed after him, within seconds, cumming for a second time, with the thunder of my own moan sailing from my mouth as the pleasure peaked.

I collapsed on top of him, conscious enough to recognize only the heat of our wet bodies and the frail, lighter frame of Tweek threatening to break under my weight. I took my lips to his, kissed him feather-light once, twice in humor of Tweek's ideal of a perfect whole, and rolled off of him to the sheets at his side.

I wasn't surprised at all when two things followed that. One, I had expected Tweek, cold now from the lack of friction and fire to keep him burning, to turn towards me and mold his body to mine. And, two, I figured we'd been too loud and, sure enough, Ruby slammed her fist into the wall of her room and yelled at us, through the drywall to stop doing whatever game we were playing and to be quiet, for fuck's sake, she was at the end of her movie and wanted to, if you wouldn't mind, to hear what was being said on the screen.

Both of us were exhausted, so meeting that request wasn't that difficult, seeing as we fell asleep against one another after we kissed languidly for a few blissful seconds and I pulled up the duvet to our shoulders. I remember nuzzling my face into Tweek's damp hair and I remember Tweek saying something, a hitch of noise too soft for my ears, but that's it before a slate of black erects in my memory and I can't recall anything else.

Well, that was fun. . .and, like, two months in the making. Damn me for being lazy.

This was written for Heartbeatstatic. She has a deep fetish for Creek, any twist, shape, or size, and she begged me to write her a porn story, because she's read all the rest located here. So, here it is. Enjoy it. I hope. I've never posted up my dirty fics up here before and I'm both curious and extremely wary of what you all will think.

Review if you liked it. Make my day~

-Ele.