A/N: Oh, my god. It took forever, but I'm finally done with this chapter!

I'm sorry I've been away so long, so much has been going on, and I know I promised faster updates, and yadda yadda yadda, but this time I mean it. With a thank you to the lovely ToniTheTerror, for helping me with a scene, and CrescentNine for the support, and becoming my new partner in crime for this fic. They are both remarkable, amazing authors, and outstanding people. They mean a lot to me, and they're a huge source of inspiration.

And of course, a thank you to all of you, readers. For sticking it out, and having faith in me. Thank you, so, so much! I don't know where I'd be without you.

Without further ado, here is the long awaited chapter three of A Matter Of Trust.

Where the fuck r u? –Craig

Tweek's brows furrowed.

Home. He texted back, fingers trembling.

A few seconds later…

I've been waitin outside 4 u 4 3 hrs.

Tweek didn't get it. He bit his lip, and dialed his boyfriend's number. Moments later, the nasally, comforting voice of Craig Tucker flowed into his ear. "Tweekers, what the fuck?"

"Y-You walked me home!"

"What? No I didn't? What the hell are you talking about, man?"

"Craig… I… I think there's something wrong with my head."

After getting up and pulling on a pair of sweats with a t-shirt, Tweek sat back nervously, eyes focused intently on the digital clock on his bedside table. Craig promised he'd be over in a few minutes, though, somewhere inside Tweek's mind, a voice was screaming at him 'No, he's the one who's doing this to you. Don't let him in, he'll do it again'. He tried to ignore the thoughts, he did, rolling away from the clock and getting to his feet. Pacing really did nothing to calm his jittery nerves, and he didn't dare make a cup of coffee in fear of becoming sick. The quicker the minutes passed, the more rapidly his stomach turned, until he was gasping for breath, a cold sweat dampening his paper-white skin. It wasn't until he heard a knock on his door that he actually spilled his empty stomach on the hardwood.

Craig pushed the door open cautiously as he heard the gagging and coughing, eyes widening as he saw the petite blond on his hands and knees, trembling violently and threatening to collapse forward into his own mess. "Shit!" This looked worse than he thought. What the fuck had happened to Tweek? He looked like a puppy kicked one too many times, and had just about had enough of everything. Carefully, the teen crouched, one arm sliding under Tweek's chest, gently moving him into an upright position. Tweek heaved, and Craig eased him forward again as he became sick. It was disgusting, yes, but this was his boyfriend! Something was wrong with him, and Craig knew he had to do everything in his power to help. Lately, He'd realized Tweek acting a little differently around him; more jumpy, more afraid. When he had finally managed to get Tweek into his arms bridal style, he lifted him from the floor and carried him to the bathroom, lest he become sick again.

Tweek gave a whimper and hugged himself. All that had been coming up was water, and stomach bile. It burned his mouth, and made his eyes tear up. But he knew he was finished for now, by the way his stomach gurgled, and the way he gagged, and the way nothing came up. Craig left with a wet towel and cleaned the mess, tossing it directly in the trash. Even if it had been washed, it would still be disgusting, so throwing it away simply seemed like the better option. When he returned, Tweek was sitting exhausted against the sink, limbs sprawled, eyes heavily lidded. He was covered in vomit, and Craig felt awful. He hadn't seen Tweek this bad since the time he'd gotten that stupid stomach bug almost three years ago. Sighing, he grabbed the mouthwash from the medicine cabinet and poured some into the cap, before grabbing one of the paper cups. "Tweek, I need you to swish this in your mouth, then spit it in the cup. It will help, I promise." Having thrown up so many times from drinking, Craig had an idea of what Tweek tasted in his mouth at the present. Tweek looked at him blankly, before nodding, doing as he was told. The minty burn of the mouthwash helped greatly, and he thanked his boyfriend silently.

"Come on, lets get you washed up," said Craig in the softest tone he could manage. In all reality, it sounded rather ridiculous, with his nasally tone, but it still comforted the nervous wreck huddled on the floor to some degree. Craig leaned over and turned the bathtub on, peeling his sweatshirt off, so that he only remained in his wife beater. Fingers hovered under the steady waterfall coming from the tap, until he was sure it was the perfect temperature. Not quite too hot, but steaming, the way he knew the blond liked it. An affectionate smile and Craig pulled off his hat, pulling it down over a mass of messy blond hair. "There. Now, let's get you out of those clothes."

Sometimes, Craig felt as if he was dealing with a child. In a way, he was. Tweek was peculiar; he was so far beyond his years and yet so far behind, struggling to keep up. He could never just be in the middle, like any other normal teenager, No Tweek was a case of his own, and Craig loved him even more- if possible- for his unique mindset.

"O-Okay," Tweek gave a nod, and sighed as he lifted his arms, helping Craig to peel the soiled shirt away from his skin. The jeans came next. Bruises, burns, and cuts began to show as Tweek lost himself in the tiny kisses to his neck, one hand burying into tousled ebony locks, tugging slightly. "Craig," his giggle was flirtatious, happier, as Craig gave a muffled chuckle, leaving love bites and hickeys all down his neck and shoulder. And the kisses didn't stop. They were tender, loving, as the descended his chest. The smell of vomit was thick, but Craig didn't care. Weren't wedding vows something like 'in sickness and in health'? And since he someday intended on reciting such vows to said blond, this was nothing. He loved him, no matter what, and Tweek needed this, he needed him. And Tweek was completely at ease. Craig was being gentle with him, not dominating, not demanding or rough. Calloused hands skimmed down lean hips, holding softly as his lips moved feather-light around Tweek's navel, tongue delving in. The blond's breath hitched, and he let out a tender, breathy moan.

The moment was short-lived, however, when Craig's hands peeled down his sweats, and his eyes followed. Navy eyes widened impossibly, and when the kisses had ceased, Tweek's mocha eyes fluttered open. "Craig, why did you— oh my god." He noticed exactly where his lover's eyes were, and he struggled in vain to get away. "Gah! Craig, get out!" Tweek squirmed again, thrashing now, as Craig's grip tightened on his hips, causing the teen to yelp in pain. "Get the fuck out! Don't- ngk!- Don't fucking look at me, don't touch me!" He slapped Craig's hand away as the male went for his pants to see further damage. Tweek wouldn't have it, as his knee jerked up swiftly, nailing Craig in the jaw. He was honestly terrified now, brown eyes wide, and slightly crazy. "Get out!" He was shrieking, voice cracking and raw. He wanted to be alone, he wanted Craig gone.

Craig tenderly touched the pads of his fingers to his jaw, feeling for the bruise. Tweek had... actually stuck him. Intentionally. And it didn't seem as if the blond was afraid to do it a second time, if necessary. "You need help!" His temper snapped, and his brows drew together angrily, jaws clenched. "You're fucking out of your mind, you freak!" Of course, Craig didn't mean a word of what he said, but it was just his anger. Tweek however, wasn't backing down. He was terrified, furious as he lashed out at Craig again with his bare foot. "Shit, Tweek! Fucking stop!" Thankfully, the older male had seen Tweek make the move, and he caught his ankle in a powerful grip, twisting and making him yelp in pain as he managed to pin the other on his chest, arm behind his back.

At this point, Tweek was screaming murderously, sobbing, honestly afraid of the violence. He knew where things like this led, and it made him panic. His breaths began to quicken until he was hyper-ventilating, trying to get a lung-full of precious air through broken, hysteric sobs. "D-don't do it, I- I'm s-sorry, Craig, p-please don't hurt me...!" As Tweek rambled, Craig's expression of anger quickly fell, replaced by heartbreak. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, j-just don't..."

Craig gathered the hysteric blond in his arms, cradling him close and trying to soothe over his sobs, helping him to calm. "Tweek, babe... Tweek, shh, its alright, I won't hurt you, calm down..." Sexual abuse. Okay, he understood this much. When Tweek had finally calmed, Craig littered kisses all over his face and hair, holding him close. "I'm sorry... for calling you a freak... you really aren't, but you need help, Tweekers. I-... I don't understand what's going on, but I know you need help. And... I want to do everything in my power... t-to help." By this point, Craig's fists were clenched, teeth bared as he fought to stay calm over the situation. He was hurting, in pain emotionally, and his throat was closing on him. If Tweek didn't come out of this alright, he didn't know what he'd do.

Tweek gave the tiniest of nods, curled against Craig's chest, eyes closed. Help... he needed it, he knew he did. He needed as much help as he could possibly get. For some reason, his mind was messing with him, and it was becoming extremely dangerous.

Craig helped him into the bath, which had come dangerously close to overflowing during their fighting, and began to tenderly wash his abused lover up with one hand. Tweek had such a grip on his other, that Craig worried that his fingers would break if he made an attempt to pull away. "Tweek, I need both hands," he whispered to a damp temple, holding the washcloth. Tweek reluctantly released him and allowed his boyfriend to wash him, mocha eyes closed. He nearly fell asleep, if not for the water being poured over his head to wash the shampoo and conditioner out.

Craig lifted him and wrapped him in a towel, tenderly drying off his thighs, hips and backside, before the rest of his body. When he had Tweek in fresh clothes, he curled up beside him in bed, protectively holding him. "Nothing's going to happen to you... I promise... I'll protect you..." Tweek gave a tired nod, falling into a much needed sleep against Craig's chest, holding to him tightly. Craig laid awake a while longer, caressing his fingers through damp blond tresses, lips to an ivory temple. "...I'll protect you."

&*~*&

"Hahh..." Pip leaned his head back, fingers tangled in a mass of black hair as his lover pressed him to the wall of his hallway, attacking his neck with lips and fangs. "D-Damien..." the Spawn responded by pressing their hips together, grinding roughly. The blond hoisted his knee up to Damien's waist, leg wrapped around his back to bring them closer. "O-oh, bloody hell..." His spine arched as a searing tongue lapped over the bites, and he found his mind hazing, hands sliding to remove his lover's shirt with renewed passion and enthusiasm.

Damien's deathly pale hands ravished Pip's slender sides, scratching his nails raggedly against the fabric. He stopped for mere moments to aid Pip and to throw the irritating piece of clothing to the floor, and reattach himself to his lover quickly. Hungrily, Damien seemed intent to devour every centimeter of the moaning blonde beneath him. He pinned him forcefully to the wall, not with his hands, but with his hips, which he shifted every so often; raising them, then lowering them at uneven intervals, driving his lover mad.

Pip whimpered, hands running over Damien's chest, blunt nails scraping as he felt a warm hand cup him between his thighs roughly. "Not here... Th-the bedroom..." Pleaded Pip, hips rolling, rocking shallowly against Damien's. A heated growl tore from the antichrist's throat when Pip pressed close, lips beneath his ear as he begged with an almost whorish manner to be taken upstairs. The Brit's ability to talk dirty never, ever failed to surprise- or arouse- the Spawn.

Hands cupping beneath fleshy, creamy thighs, Damien hoisted Pip up against his chest, taking the stairs two at a time. Not bothering to close the door, Damien threw his lover unceremoniously onto the bed, springing onto him almost immediately to continue his attack. He got as far as getting Pip's shirt and shorts off, and his own jeans, before two trembling hands closed over his wrists.

"D-Damien," moaned the blonde. "Stop..." Pip gave a heated gasp as he felt Damien's hand lowering so, so close to where he yearned to be touched... But, the Brit couldn't bring himself to do it, so he grabbed Damien's hands. With his raging hard-on quickly fading, he glanced up at his frustrated lover with an apologetic smile, looking about ready to cry. "I'm too worried about Tweek... I'm so sorry..." He sighed and shifted, pressing the shocked Spawn onto his back, ready to please him to compensate for the sudden stop in foreplay. He just couldn't find any pleasure in doing this, not with his friend so freshly on his mind.

Damien's brow furrowed angrily as he sighed and grasped thin wrists. His body was pulsing in anticipation of what he thought they were headed towards, and his back arched up off of the bed. "Pip, you can't just stop!" He cried with a husky moan, biting his lower lip. One look from his crestfallen lover, and Damien's expression softened, arms pulling his boyfriend close to his chest "...And I don't want you to do this if your heart's not in it."

Pip gave a tiny sigh, burying his face into Damien's chest. "...I'm sorry... I'm too worried about Tweek, Damien... you saw how afraid he was, how... broken. Its horrible! I can't... get the image out of my head." The Brit shifted a little, feeling Damien's prominent erection against his hip. "I'm sorry, love... I just can't keep it up, I'm afraid... but I can help you if you want-"

"Nah, its fine, Pipsqueak." Damien said with a reassuring smile, gently sliding out from beneath Pip. He rose to a sitting position before getting up from the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have some..." He cleared his throat, gesturing to his still-pulsing erection. "Business to attend too." Turning on his heel, he headed to the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Pip along on the bed, half-naked and looking upset.

As soon as Pip heard Damien give a quiet growl, he got up and hurried downstairs, guiltily. It was his fault that Damien had to beat off in the bathroom, after all. How long had it been since he had to last do such a thing? The blond angel usually satisfied his every need. He dragged himself to make a cup of tea, and sat quietly in the kitchen, thoughts scrambled in his head. Oceanic eyes focused on his thumb that swiped back and forth over a small section of the rim of the mug idly, lost in his own world of concern.

After Damien had finished in the bathroom, he came to join his lover in the kitchen, moving as silently as possible. The sight of a heart-broken Pip gazing into nothingness hurt, perhaps worse than he could have imagined possible. He sighed,at all loss as to what to do about the situation. This really was eating at the other male, and if this was going to mess with his Pip this badly than something needed to be done and quick.

Though, it wasn't exactly quite that simple. It wasn't as if he could just tell his lover 'Oh yeah, though you'd like to know that our friend Tweek? Yeah. Someone's been fucking him against his will'. The damage it would do to his trust with Tweek, the damage it would do his lover! It was too much.

"...What do you propose we do?" Asked Pip when strong arms looped about his shoulders from behind, warm, calloused hands caressing his chest. Damien set his chin atop blond tresses after lying a quick kiss to golden silk. He could lie. He could tell Pip that everything would be alright. But, if something more happened... Pip would blame him. So, instead, Damien lifted Pip into his arms and traded places sitting on the hard kitchen chair, pulling his lover into his lap in a tight embrace.

"I'm not sure what's going on, babe... but I swear to you, I'll get to the bottom of it. I won't rest until I find out what's hurting Tweek, alright?" A small white lie, but the rest was pure honesty. If Pip was going to become this worried, this withdrawn, he knew he had to do something, quickly. "Come on, get off of me. Lets make something to eat, yeah?" The smaller male nodded and laid a kiss to searing lips before he got to his feet.

Damien hugged him from behind and kissed up the side of his neck, wondering idly if he could get Pip to smile for him. His fingers trailed under his shirt, over his skin, to his back, before finally resting on his rear, giving it a light swat, causing the Brit to yelp indignantly with flushed cheeks. "Damien!" He soon giggled though, as Damien gave him an innocent smile. "You're going to pay for that." That being said, Pip promptly engaged in a full-scale condiment fight with his lover in the kitchen.

Hell yeah, he still had it when it came to Pip, no matter how dire the situation.