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“You want to give me a what?” Tweek asked shrilly, jerking away from Craig and scrambling to the end of his bed, his back against the headboard and his knees nervously braced in front of his chest.
Craig sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “A lovebite, Tweek. Jesus, relax, would you, I’m not going to do it if you don’t want, obviously.”
Tweek eyed his make-believe boyfriend warily, but his posture visibly relaxed until he was sitting cross-legged again, playing with a piece of his hair. They’d been sitting at the end of Tweek’s bed together, watching Youtube videos on Craig’s laptop and just generally talking about school and their friends and the request had been woven so seamlessly into the conversation that Tweek didn’t even realise what Craig was asking until it had been spelled out for him. At which point, Tweek had promptly had an anxiety attack.
“And, uh, why?” Tweek asked, sounding a little angry, and Craig winced. He really didn’t like it when he and Tweek fought, and really didn’t want to provoke an argument now. Their play pretend relationship, weirder as it grew with each passing year, was honestly one of the most stable and important in Craig’s life, sad and laughable as that was. Something about pretending to be Tweek’s boyfriend had over time allowed them to open up to each other in ways that Craig just couldn’t with his other friends. It was okay to talk about their emotions occasionally, to lean into each other and enjoy the constant casual contact of another human being. It was all part of the game.
But although they held hands and talked deeply, there sat an unspoken elephant in the room, the final wall between them. They were not boyfriends, not to each other. The one thing they never addressed or spoke about was the physical aspect of a relationship, the one that hadn’t mattered so much as children, but became an invisible, crucial element more and more the older they got. And hearing the boys talk about their first kisses and experiences was making Craig feel left out and competitive.
“I’m just sick of the guys giving me – us – shit,” Craig explained. “They keep asking if we’ve even kissed yet,” he added with a roll of his eyes.
“So tell them we’ve kissed,” Tweek argued, touching his neck gingerly as though checking to make sure Craig hadn’t secretly left his mark already. “You don’t have to brand me with your mouth.”
Craig hoped that he hadn’t suddenly lost his ability to keep his face passive. “It’s not about branding you,” and okay, that was kind of a lie, the whole point was to brand Tweek really. “And I don’t have to use my mouth.”
“So, what? A vacuum cleaner?” Tweek asked like he couldn’t believe he was contributing to this conversation.
Craig mulled this over. “That could work,” he said hopefully.
His hope was short lived. Fifteen minutes later, Tweek was inspecting an angry purple perfect circle in his bedroom mirror that stood out against his neck like a plum, while Craig guiltily held the end of the vacuum nozzle.
“Sorry, Tweek. Damn, your parents have a good vacuum cleaner, you think mine could borrow this sometime, our floors are gross…”
“Craig!” Tweek said shrilly, pointing at the purple circle on his neck, the sharp outline stark against the pale of his throat. “Nobody is going to believe a human did this! This is very very obviously done with a vacuum cleaner! This. Looks. Stupid.”
“It really does,” Craig conceded. “Shit, I’m sorry, Tweek, what can I do?”
“Fix it!” Tweek said urgently, making stabbing gestures with his finger. “You did this, so fix it!”
“Um…” Craig eyed the bruise doubtfully. He couldn’t make it go away. But there was one other thing he could do.
“Okay, I have an idea, don’t freak out. Just, sit on the bed.” Craig said, hoping that Tweek wouldn’t punch him. Tweek looked frail, but Craig could still remember both fist fights they’d had and would always respect Tweek as an adversary. He just hoped Tweek wouldn’t fight him on this.
Tweek sat, his body tense and his eyes alert. “What’re you doing?” he asked suspiciously when Craig sat next to him.
“I’m just gonna… change the shape a bit. So it looks less like a circle and more… real,” Craig offered, and Tweek blushed furiously but nodded. Letting Craig suck on his neck was definitely preferable to everyone pointing and giggling at an obviously vacuum-induced hickey.
“Um, can you tilt your head a bit and… uh, kind of…” Craig motioned that Tweek should shift his body to make his neck more accessible. Tweek’s pulse picked up as he obeyed, giving Craig a clear path to his throat. Tweek closed his eyes and let out a shuddering gasp when the other boy moved in, ghosting his breath across Tweek’s neck.
“S’okay?” Craig asked, and Tweek repressed the urge to shiver as those words sent hot, pleasant puffs of air all along his shoulder and spine.
“Mmmhmm,” Tweek ground out in a tight voice, fidgeting as sparks of sensation erupted throughout his body. A groan threatened to burst forth as Craig’s lips made contact with his neck, a little tender on the abused flesh but undeniably welcome. Pleasure started to coil in Tweek’s belly and groin and he grit his teeth against the beautiful torture that was Craig’s mouth on his neck, hoping Craig wouldn’t sense his growing involuntary arousal and pull back sharply in anger and disgust.
Craig was trying not to let on how much his mouth was watering for what should have been the most obvious aspect of this whole charade, the one that Craig had never even thought to consider, and that was the taste of Tweek’s neck – his salty, boyish taste mingled with just a ghost of fresh roasted coffee. Craig sucked almost instinctively, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, his mind already going hazy. His teeth found light purchase in the soft skin of Tweek’s neck and at that, Tweek let out a shocked little sound and seized hold of Craig’s jacket. For one terrible second, Craig thought he was going to be pushed away, but Tweek just held tight, like he’d needed something to grip.
For about a minute or so, Craig just sucked happily, enjoying the way Tweek gave the occasional twitch when he stimulated a nerve. Then, he pulled off and looked down to inspect his work; in place of the perfect circle sat a nice, blotchy hickey with a thin wet sheen standing out against Tweek’s skin.
Reluctantly, Craig pulled away completely, resisting the urge to move along Tweek’s neck to find a new patch of unmarked skin to sink his teeth into. He felt Tweek’s hands slip from where they’d been clinging to Craig’s torso, and they broke their upper halves apart slowly, not realising just how melded they’d actually become until they were detaching.
Tweek’s eyes were a little unfocused and his face was much redder than usual, and he was breathing heavily and with a swooping feeling Craig realised he was much the same. The air rang with silence, and the heavy sounds of their panting. Craig could feel his groin aching, and with an electric jolt realised that Tweek might be hard as well, and it terrified Craig how badly he wanted to look down and check.
They stared at each other for far too long, to the point that when they looked away and tried to play it off like it hadn’t happened, it didn’t work.
“I’ll, um, see you in school tomorrow,” Craig said, standing and leaving before he could make any more colossally stupid mistakes.
*
The next day, Tweek wore a scarf and Craig couldn’t help stealing guilty glances at it all day. He didn’t ask Tweek to take it off, as had been the whole point of giving him the love bite. Craig couldn’t pinpoint the moment it had happened, but something had shifted in their relationship, and last night it had finally been dragged kicking and screaming into the light. Right now Craig couldn’t care less what the other boys thought of him or Tweek or their inexperience with each other. He just wanted to know what Tweek thought.
“Tweek, why are you wearing that stupid thing inside?” Kenny demanded during lunch, tugging lightly on Tweek’s scarf, but not lightly enough to prevent it from slipping and revealing the bright purple mark on Tweek’s neck.
“Ho! Slut alert!” Eric Cartman said triumphantly, to some general laughs from the table. Tweek stood and left the cafeteria before Craig could think to say anything, but as soon as he was out of earshot, Craig brought his fist down to the table.
“I’m going to say this once,” Craig said quietly. “The next person, boy girl or undecided, who talks shit about our sex life gets their ass kicked. By both of us,” he added, and everyone fell silent. They remembered Tweek and Craig’s fight in third grade, and although the two had never beaten anyone up together, they would probably make a good fighting team if they were ever given the proper motivation.
“So, but you do have a sex life though,” Kenny McCormick added, and Craig figured he would be the one kid to not give a shit about getting beaten to a pulp.
Craig narrowed his eyes. “That’s our business. Eat your fucking lunch, you hobo.”
*
Craig found Tweek after school, leaning against the part of the building where they always met to walk home, playing with his scarf sadly. There was little point wearing it anymore, since everyone at school knew about the hickey even if they hadn’t seen it themselves. Craig felt terrible.
“Sorry about today,” Craig said awkwardly, holding out his hand for Tweek to take, relieved when he did. “It was a stupid idea, for a stupid reason. I don’t care what those assholes think.”
Tweek glared straight ahead of him. “Yes you do. That’s the only reason you’re even with me, is because we care what everyone thinks,” and Craig actually stopped in his tracks, halting Tweek with him. Those words stung, and it wasn’t because they were true, but because those were the exact same words Craig caught himself chastising himself with on occasions where he’d spent too long thinking about his relationship with Tweek.
“I don’t want to break up to prove I don’t care what people think,” Craig blurted suddenly and honestly into the silence. “I don’t want to break up with you, Tweek.”
Tweek stared at Craig, his heart hammering. The game was over, he realised, they weren’t playing and this was happening.
“Kiss me,” Tweek said, and it was cliché but it was what he needed. Craig didn’t even look around to make sure someone was watching the way he normally did before pecking Tweek lightly on the side of the face. He clasped Tweek’s face in gloved hands and bought their mouths together at last, sighing in relief like a man dying of thirst finally been given water. His arms came to meld around Tweek’s back, and Tweek leaned into the kiss happily, his head spinning as he realised with dazed joy that everything was going to be okay.
*
Once alone in the sanctity of Tweek’s bedroom, the long-term boyfriends fell on each other, savouring finally the feeling of being completely with one another, no games or walls between them. They didn’t have sex that very afternoon, though it took every ounce of willpower to hold themselves back. Technically they’d been together for years, but it felt right to wait until they’d been actual boyfriends longer than a day. It didn’t matter, they agreed in between wet, inexpert kisses. They had all the time in the world to learn these things, and much more about each other. And many things were learned that afternoon. For example, Tweek was a squirmer when he didn’t hold back, Craig realised excitedly as Tweek wriggled happily under him every time Craig licked behind his earlobe. He made stuttering gasps when Craig ground against his hips, and he liked to hang on when he was being kissed. He tugged at his own hair when Craig mouthed at his chest or whispered about all the things he’d like to do to Tweek, one day.
And with every detail that Craig noticed and filed away, he became more aware that these little details were the very things that Craig didn’t want to share with the guys, that he genuinely didn’t want to boast about or have everyone in town knowing. These were the parts of Tweek that existed only for him, and now that they finally had one another for real, Craig would keep these parts of Tweek all to himself, as long as Tweek would have him.