Chapter Text
Cartman
It didn’t start out so… premeditated. The first night Eric stayed at the Tweak household he was expectedly on edge, having been thrust into a completely new situation without his mom, and having to stay at the f*cking Tweak’s, of all places. It sucked in so many ways, and he truly couldn’t sleep that night.
In the middle of the night Eric had wandered down to the Tweak’s kitchen, looking for something decent to munch on. Which turned out to be a complete bust. What the Tweak’s considered snacks were just sad; digestive biscuits? Dried f*cking fruit?! He nearly gagged on the chia seed ‘pudding’ he’d given a shot. Eric had had half a mind to splurge on getting fast food delivered, but settled on whipping up a bowl of makeshift cookie dough; mashing butter, sugar and flour together.
But when he went back upstairs and noticed the light still on in Tweek’s room, Eric had only gone inside to berate the blonde for having such a pathetically stocked kitchen. Eric wasn’t expecting to find Tweek’s cute little boner so blatantly poking out of his flimsy boxers like that, as he laid there asleep. A near-empty flask was clumsily tossed to the bedside floor, whose potent alcohol smell matched that of Tweek’s snoozing breath.
What happened next wasn’t a big deal. Eric just did what he did. It wasn’t wrong; it was basically mutually beneficial - and it definitely didn’t need to be overthought or analyzed. Plus, Tweek needed to be taught a lesson; that he shouldn’t be passing out in such compromising positions.
And the thing was, it worked like a charm - put Eric right to sleep after. The thing about it was- it was tasty and soothing to suck on; the firm, squishy texture, the baby-soft skin… See, the thing about it was, the way Tweek would tremor and jilt, despite being fast asleep, Eric found really endearing and funny… and the thing about it was… Tweek had let no less than five other dudes do it before him, so it wasn’t like the guy was some kind of blow j*b virgin … or anything… and the thing was, all of those things added up.
Naturally, when Eric failed to find sleep the subsequent nights, he took advantage of his newly found calm-down method. He wasn’t gonna ask Tweek for permission, obviously, because the answer would be ‘no,’ and it would introduce all kind of questions. And he was obviously going to take measures to prevent Tweek from finding out; namely, dissolving a couple tabs of ambien in the Tweak’s filtered water pitcher each night. What did it matter if Mrs. Tweak got a dose or two, as well; the woman looked like she could use a good night’s sleep.
Everything had been going great until Tweek woke up mid-blowj*b the night prior. The little f*cker must’ve built up a tolerance or something; but whatever, Eric didn’t see it as a lose. In fact, Tweek finding out had added a fun new angle to the whole thing.
Things that day had been… interesting. Tweek was extra spaztastic, jittering and stuttering more than usual; unwilling to look Cartman in the eye. Having such a visibly unnerving effect on a person was cool though. It was one of the main things that made Cartman’s dick hard, always had been, and although he kept his cool, the fat boy was very much looking forward to some alone time with Tweek that night.
Cartman sighed as he evaluated his crude sketch of Tweek’s penis in the margin of his notebook, using the edge of a dulled 2B to correct the shading on one of the veins. In a way, it was all too easy… like taking candy from a baby.
*
Tweek always took a long, steamy shower at night before bed, which was ideal because Cartman wanted to taste him fresh out the shower. That tender, succulent flesh… it had been on his mind all day.
Cartman’s heart did a flip when the restroom door finally swung open, releasing a fragrant cloud of steam as the freshly clean blonde burst out. When Tweek glided back into his room, humming an upbeat melody in his relaxed, post-shower stupor, he didn’t notice Cartman seated on his bed, waiting.
“Twake,” the fat boy announced.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!” Tweek girlishly overreacted, almost tripping over himself.
“Do you know why I’m here?” Cartman asked, his tone very serious.
“J-Jesus, I hope not!”
“You acted weird around me all day, and now I’m humiliated” he scoffed, “couldn’t you tell?!”
“WHAAADAWAA?!”
“Don’t you sass me! I’m in no mood, Twake! I’m stressed out, I feel insecure as f*ck; I can’t even find peace in my mind, and I probably won’t sleep for sh*t tonight! And you know what the cherry on top of it all is, Twake? It’s that there’s this simple activity that could make some of my stress go away, but you think it’s weird. I really didn’t take you for such a cruel and withholding person.”
“GRRRF- you’re too manipulative, Eric!”
“Wow, you’re really gonna go there with the names, Twake-aniel?!”
“My name’s not Tweekaniel, dude, you know that!!!”
“Twakentine?”
“Tweek isn’t short for anything!!”
“Wow, it really does suck to be you…”
“GGHAA!! Stop changing the subject! See, this is what I’m talking about; manipulative!!”
The fat boy gasped, “well. I. Never!”
“You are, dude!”
“f*ck you, Twake, I resent that. Passionate? Yes. Proactive? Absolutely. But manipulative? Some kind of slimy, sexual deviant, who takes what they want from unknowing twinks in the night-“
“WHA?! I didn’t say-“
“Then uses the power of verbal persuasion to spin it in his favor?! Like some kind of conversational wizard?”
“URRRGHERIC!!!”
“Can I ask you something, Twake? Why do you give a sh*t what society thinks about you? Being that you are the way you are. I mean, you’re basically an outcast anyways.”
“I’mman outcast?!” Tweek said shrilly.
“C’mon, I can’t be the first one to ever tell you,” Cartman said pityingly, “you poor, coddled little idiot, Twake. Of course you’re an outcast. Your poor as sh*t, your lowlife of a criminal dad left you, you’re obviously plagued with mental and physical ailments… sh*t, I hate to be ‘the one,’ but honestly, you’re in dire need of a reality check. Twake, you and your mom are, like, a tiny step above homeless! Like, a hair above Kinnie’s family. I feel like I’m in a third world country, staying here! You’re a welfare collecting, minimum wage making, discount clothes wearing-“
“Eric, if I’m poor, you are too - we’re freakin’ neighbors!!”
“I don’t care what we are! Cause you’re the one who cares what people think! But Twake, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it for you; you’re white-f*cking-trash! A white trash kid from buttf*ck, Colorado! A far cry from South Park’s most likely to succeed!”
“GGRRRHFINE!!! So what if I am?! Why does any of that matter!!”
“It doesn’t, I guess; you’re just not a very good friend or person.”
“JESUSBEJESUS!! C’mon man, cut me a break! And can we stay on topic?! This can’t be the first time you’ve ever had trouble sleeping, Eric. There has to be something that has helped you sleep in the past; I mean what did you do when you couldn’t sleep at home?!”
Resistance was expected. Desired, actually; Eric liked a bit of a challenge. Time to turn on the waterworks. “What did I used to do?!” He huffed, feigning outrage at Tweek’s pushback, then quickly flipping the switch to being flustered, and ever so slightly vulnerable, “I guess I never really had anyone, to be there for me, like this, in the night, when things in my mind stopped making sense, and, well, when I got scared… except, of course, f-f-for m-m-my m-m-m-mister k-k-kit-t-t-t-“ By that point the fat boy was actually shedding a tear.
The whole thing worked like a damn charm. Tweek, too, had gotten teary eyed, slinking over to Eric, sitting next to him on the bed and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. And mind you, the blonde was still in just a towel.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Tweek earnestly said, choking up, “I forgot about mis- I mean… I know how it can feel, to lose- like, grief; that sh*t’s hard…”
Cartman let Tweek ‘console’ him for a minute or so, sniffing into the crook of his neck, runny nose dripping everywhere. But then his eager hands could wait no further, going for the tucked part of the towel around Tweek’s waist and unwrapping him like a gift on Christmas morning. And in a moment of real triumph for the fat boy, Tweek just let him; let it all happen. Gave a heavy sigh, but said nothing and otherwise remained passive. Knowing this was his cue, Eric quickly shuffled between Tweek’s knees and knelt. There it was… still lusciously moist… Eric earned this; deserved it. So without further thought, he went to town.
Pity’s a funny thing, now. Eric was certain it was why Tweek was letting himself be heard so openly this time, in such a conscious setting. Soft whimpers and groans, a few breathy strings of expletives, the most adorable little squeak when the fat boy’s tongue brushed into his slit. It was music to Eric’s ears.
It was also what the fat boy took as permission to go a step further. He slid his hands from the top of Tweek’s thighs to his ripe little ass, caressing and kneading both cheeks. The blonde’s breath hitched and his body stiffened, but Tweek didn’t stop him. So, as Eric continued to suckle and bob on his prize, he stroked a saliva coated index finger over Tweek’s asshole.
The cute little thing puckered frantically under his touch - god, Eric would’ve loved to have seen it - but Tweek began to panic.
“W-wait- Eric!” Tweek hissed, his hips jerking away from the fat boy’s finger, which inadvertently thrust his dick deeper into Eric’s mouth.
“Mmmph!” Eric angrily muffled, death-glaring Tweek to stay still. Eric eagerly swallowed down Tweek’s dick, letting the head push against the back of his throat (which was as far as the blonde’s length went). With his face pressed against Tweek’s stomach, and holding firmly Tweek’s bucking hips, Eric pushed his finger inside.
“NNNRGHHH f*ck!!!” Tweek cried out, spurting down the fat boys throat as his sphincter convulsed around the probing digit.
It was glorious. Eric rushed back to his room to jack off, taking strong whiffs of his finger and savoring the remnants of Tweek’s ji*zzy taste in his mouth. He got off harder than ever before as he replayed everything in his head; and then, like every other night for the past week, Eric fell into a snoring slumber.
