Disclaimer: If only I was genius enough to come up with South Park and its characters. Too bad for me…

Stan's POV

It should be a regular Saturday night. My parents are out the house doing God knows what, my living room carpet is flooded with pizza boxes, potato chip bags and Red Bull cans, and Kyle and I are going toe to toe on my Okama Gamesphere 2. What can possibly be more normal than this?

But, of course, when dealing with my life nothing can stay normal for too long.

Why? Why do I have to feel this way towards Kyle? He's my best friend for Christsake! This overbearing lust to touch him, to kiss him, to do him, was nowhere in the "Super Best Friend" job description.

Oddly enough these feelings for him stared yesterday. The day I finally I slept with Wendy. Kyle and I had spent that whole afternoon together, but when it came time for me to meet Wendy, the saddest look flashed into Kyle's eyes. It was a heart-clenching look of regret and sorrow.

But as soon as the look appeared, it vanished. He gave me a bright smile and a pat on the back.

"Get her, Tiger," he said with laughter. I chuckled at his ridiculous nickname and playfully shoved him away from me.

"Go home, Kyle."

Kyle didn't move right away though, and a thick layer of silence soon fell over us. For a while we simply looked at each other, me waiting for Kyle to leave and Kyle waiting for God knew what. I raised an eyebrow in question of Kyle's stern poker face As if a raised eyebrow were the key, Kyle broke our minuscule standoff. With a quick step forward and a small exhalation of breath, his lips were pressed lightly against my cheek. Before I could even register what had happened he pulled away with a faulty smile.

"Good luck, Stan."

And he was gone.

That night I went to Wendy's house, and we slept together. It was the most amazing night I'd ever had, but for the wrong reasons. The whole time I was making love to Wendy, it was Kyle I was seeing. When I gazed into cerulean orbs, emeralds stared back at me. When my nimble fingers ran though silky black tresses, I felt vibrant red waves caress my hand. Instead of a soprano cry, I heard an alto voice sing my name. And when it was all over it was Kyle's lean body I snuggled in my arms.

When I said goodbye to Wendy the following morning, I felt like the biggest douche looking her in the eyes and saying that I loved her. After all, as far as I was concerned I was screwing Kyle the entire night. He was the one writhing beneath me, he--

Whoa! Maybe having these sexual images of Kyle isn't such a great idea when he's sitting right next to me on the couch. Though I highly doubt that he can see my lustful side glances towards him; he's really dead set on beating me in this game. Apparently, it's been his lifelong dream to whoop my ass in Mortal Kombat ever since I beat him for the hundredth time in a row.



Hm. Whatever. It's not like he could ever beat—

"Finish Him!"

All I hear is a series of clicks and then the gruesome death of my beloved character Noob is displayed on the screen.

"Ashrah wins"

Wha?

How did he…?

When did he…?

"I-I won. I won! I kicked your ass, Stan," Kyle shouted throwing my controller up into the air in celebration. I would've smacked him for throwing my stuff if I wasn't in such a state of shock.

"No. No! That can't be! You cheated! I want another round!"

"How the hell did I cheat?"

"Oh please! Like you didn't use 'Nature's Torpedo' over and over again!"

"So? Who cares? I beat you eleven out of twenty-one times fair and square! I'm officially champion!"

And then he proceeded to do what I can only describe as his victory dance. Because Heaven forbid I have a gracious defeat.

His dance started with a few 'in your face'. Then he started to jump on my couch and laugh and chant 'I won! I won!'. He did a final leap off the couch and clicked his heels together and let out a large 'Whoo'!

What? Was he Kenny now?

He did a few twirls around my living room and then ended up in front of me. I just glared up at my so-called superior.

"Aww, Stanley. Why so blue?" If it were any other circumstances, I would have believed that soft gaze of concern. But I just kept my glare on him, and it was soon proven the correct choice as he span around violently and faced me with his backside. He gave his jean covered ass a wag.

"Maybe a good helping of 'kiss my Jewish ass' will help ease the pain! Ha! Go on, Stan," He gave his rear a firm slap, "Give it a kiss!"

He continued to slap his ass directly in my face, a giggle accompanying every tap. I'm sure he'd stop doing that if he knew the way his ass jiggled was getting me extremely hot. Damn Kyle has a nice ass. Subconsciously, my hand was inching towards his butt. If only I could get a hand of it I'd—

Before I could make contact he pulled himself from my reach. I thought at first that he noticed my creeping hand, but his laughter and continued dancing told me otherwise. Kyle now went into, what I aptly named, "freestyle" mode; dancing to the little ditties in his own head. Of course this damned dance didn't help cool me off at all. Kyle's dancing was filled with hip gyrations and thrusts to the syllables 'I-frea-king-won-Stan'. In my current turned on state, my mind easily contorts his words to 'I-fu-cking-want-Stan'. A chill runs through me as I picture him on his back, devoid of all clothing, 

eyes glazed over crying these words. I can hear him moaning that he wants me to touch him. Screaming for me to make him cum.

Goddamn I want him so badly. I never thought it possible for someone to get me up this quickly. Each one of his enticing movements was picking at my self-restraint.

Finally, his dance ended and he let a joyous slash exhausted breath.

"Whoo! I'm going to have to remember to put this on my calendar when I get home. It'll be a holiday that'll go down in history! It'll be 'Kyle Broflovski Day'! I can see it now! My victory over the Dark One will be in history books in every country!"

I snort at his dramatics.

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Oh, ho, ho! So the Defeated One speaks! Speak again!"

"Get over yourself, dude."

"You sound a little bitter?" He began to waltz towards me until he was directly in front of me again. He bends down until he is eyelevel with me and gives me an obnoxious grin.

"I'm going to the kitchen to get another Red Bull. Maybe I can get you some ice for that bruised ego of yours?" Kyle lifts his finger and swipes it across my chest to emphasize his immature jeer. But it has the total wrong effect on me. Unbeknownst to him (I think) he swiped my nipple, making it jump to life. I shutter as I watch him saunter out of my living room.

That's it.

I jump off the couch and give chase. In the kitchen, Kyle barely has the fridge open before I slam it shut from behind him. He jumps in surprise and twirls around to find himself trapped between my arms. His lightly tinted lips mold into an apprehensive smile.

"Shit, Stan. You scared me."

I say nothing in reply.

"You're not thinking about beating me up, are you?" He gave a slight, unsteady laugh. "Dude, it's just a game."

A game? He's right. It is just a game. A game of 'Cat and Mouse' and the big bad tiger (as Kyle himself had called me) is ready to make his move.

I lean in and in that moment I feel his lips against mine. He doesn't move and neither do I. I simply let my lips linger on his as I take in their softness. I can taste his last Red Bull on his lips as I inhale his intoxicating scent of hair product and Dove soap. My hand cups his face as I start to deepen the kiss. I want to taste all of him.

My tongue gets the opportunity to massage his only for a moment. But it isn't even a second afterwards that I receive a response. Too bad for me it was a negative response.

He tears his lips from mine and attempts to push me away. He would have succeeded if I didn't have size and strength on my side. I grab his wrists and force him roughly against the refrigerator, his arms successfully pinned to either side of his head. He glares up at me defiantly.



"Stan what the fuck is wrong with you," he screams at me frantically as he struggles to be released from my grasp. No such luck for him.

I'm guessing he's becoming agitated from my silence, because he begins to struggle harder and curse louder.

"Say something, Stan! Goddamnit! Why the fuck are you doing this?"

Is that all he wanted from me? He wanted me to say something? To tell him why? Well I could do all that easily with three simple words:

"I want you."

All movement ceases, and Kyle just gazes up at me with wide incredulous eyes. I really don't expect him to believe what is coming out my mouth. Hell, I half can't believe what is coming out my mouth! I guess that's what I get when I let my dick do the thinking for me.

Kyle's shaken voice disrupts my thoughts.

"You. You can't be serious. You can't be serious!"

And we're back to the struggling again.

"What about Wendy, huh," he grunts as he tries to use his weight to free himself.

"Don't you love her anymore? Wasn't it just yesterday that you slept with her! Wasn't it just yesterday that you fucked her!" Raw emotion is boiling in his jade eyes now making everything as bright as day. At this point I knew for a fact.

He was jealous.

Jealous of Wendy and I.

I smirk.

Advantage: Stan.

"Why do you sound so irritated about it? You sound a little… jealous."

His face went red with either anger or embarrassment. Which? I'm not sure. He opened his mouth to argue, but I was quick to cut him off.

"You know what I think? I think you wanted me to spend the night in your bed instead of Wendy's."

"No! I—"

I lean in, my lips brush against his flushed ear. Soft whispers spill from my mouth.

"I think everything I did to Wendy… you want me to do to you."

He whimpers as I punctuate the last words. That practically throws me over the edge.

At this point, I'm far from playing. I have his entire body flush against mine and I have a steady rhythm going in my hips. I can say without a doubt that he has stopped struggling a while ago. And it may just be my imagination, but I can swear I feel him grinding his semi against me. Imaginary or not, I take it a step further by taking his warm ear between my teeth.



"You want me Kyle. Don't lie to yourself." I lick the shell of his ear and he shutters violently.

"Don't lie to me." I kiss his ear and lead a trail of kisses down his neck until I reach his nape. I start to litter kisses and bites all over his pale clammy skin.

I feel his heart speed up beyond normal levels. Sharp intakes of breath accompany every nibble and kiss. I smile against his nape.

"Just say it Kyle." I lead my love trail back to the base of his ear. "Say it."

"We-wendy…"

The name is barely above a whisper, but I hear it clear as a bell. I see a bit of red before I give him an especially hard nip. A high pitch yelp falls from his lips.

"Try again, Kyle."

"Stan. Please stop this… What about—ahhh!"

I bite down harder on his tender neck. My voice turns dangerously low as I administer his final warning.

"Say that name again, Kyle and I swear to God I'll knock the shit out of you."

Though I can't see it, I can actually feel Kyle's lips forming into a thin line to keep his irritating argument to himself. Once again I can't help but mentally celebrate my victory

"Now," My lips are now nursing his tortured skin with licks and kisses. "Tell me what you want. Don't think about it. This is something that you… have to feel."

I gather his wrist in one hand above his head and use my now free hand to grope his lean chest. I slip my hand under his shirt and I'm granted another tasty whimper, as my finger grazes a hardened nipple.

"Just say it, Ky… Say you want me to fuck you."

He's silent. The only answer I'm getting is his labored breath. He finally tries to articulate an answer.

"Stan… please… I"