Story: You're Not Drunk

Author: nblg6

Pairing: Kyle/Cartman

Rating: M

Summary: Sometimes, you should just blame it on the alcohol. (Kyle/Cartman)

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park nor its carachters.

Author's Notes: Hey, guys. So...this is just something I wrote the other night, when I couldn't go to sleep. I don't even know if I'm gonna keep this a one shot or if I'll develop the story a little more. You tell me. :) Please review if you can, I really want to know your opinion! Take care and, without further adieu, I present to you, "You're Not Drunk".

"Kyle..." he whispers in the crook of my neck, trying to suck on it but much too drunk to do a minimally good job.

"Shut up." I manage out. He gets up on his elbows and rips my shirt off, running his nails up and down my abs, leaving thin trails of blood. "Motherfucker...stop it." I mumble, shutting my eyes in an attempt to shut the pain as well. The loud music busts my eardrums, sweat drips down my chin, alcohol invades my brain, and all I can see is white.

I fucking hate parties.

"Never." his voice echoes as he bites my ear way too hard.

"I'm serious, cut it off dude!" Just as I'm about to stab him with a nearby pen, the door slams open. The body on top of me barely moves an inch or two to get a glance around the room and throw up, passing out seconds later.

"Kyle...what the fuck are you doing?"

"Nothing, Cartman, just take me home." Much to my surprise, Cartman shrugs and walks through the door, helping me up when he reaches the bed.
The ride home is pretty silent. There's a lot of traffic, because almost every street is closed due to some gay ass band that's playing this weekend.
Though I can't call anyone gay in an offensive way, considering what I was just doing.

"Why were you about to fuck Stan?" Cartman asks coldly, clutching the steering wheel. I sigh.

"I don't know. I wasn't feeling very good and he came in and I...I don't know. We were drunk and-"

"You're not drunk." Cartman trails off, hissing as we pass yet another closed street.

"-and we just started to make out and...and then you came in. That's all."

"Why?" he presses. My arms fall to my sides as I breathe in deeply.

"I don't fucking know, Cartman! I was just horny! Still am, actually, so don't piss me off!" I blurt out, clasping my hand over my mouth harshly as I realize what I just said.

Shit.

Cartman stares at me with lust in his eyes. What in hell have I done?

"You're...what?" he asks, choosing his words carefully. I swallow hard. It's no secret that Cartman is gay. He found out when he was, like, eleven years old.
He never really made a big deal out of it, though. It was sort of amazing the way he dealt with the (few) bullies that picked on him. I stare at his face briefly. He lost a lot of weight during the past couple of years, and he's letting his hair grow, and he started working out in the summer...and I guess you can say he's a little hot. Little bit.

But the thing is: I don't know if I'm gay. I mean, if I'm having these thoughts about another guy, I must be, at the very least, bisexual.

Though I was never this aroused near a girl before. And Cartman isn't even touching me!

After all, I was making out with my best friend twenty minutes ago.

"Nothing, just drive me ho-"

I gasp when Cartman bends over and presses his lips to mine, shoving his tongue inside my mouth.

It feels surprisingly good, considering this is, like, my fourth or fifth kiss in my whole seventeen years of living.

I suck on his tongue, his teeth grazing against my bottom lip lazily. I let out a moan.

Cartman runs his hands under my t-shirt, his fingertips ghosting over the bruises Stan gave me before. The thought hits me strong and I push Cartman away.

"What; too much action for just one night?"

He smirks and leans in again, this time tugging at the skin behind my ear with his teeth. I yelp, tangling my fingers in his hair.

"F-fuck you, Cartman." I breathe out. He kisses down my neck and back up towards my mouth, planting one firm, wet kiss to my lips. I sigh. He feels so fucking good pressing me against the car's door. It's...weird. But nice.

My phone rings when his fingers are undoing my zipper. I swallow another moan as I pick up, mentally kicking myself as soon as I do so.

"Hello?" I answer, irritated. Cartman slides my jeans down my legs. He sniggers when I gulp loudly.

"'Sup, bro?" oh, shit. It's Ike. "Where are you? Mom's flippin' a shit here."

"Okay, first of all, stop talking like a nigga." I hear Ike sigh. I try to yank Cartman's hands away from my boxers, but since I can only use one hand, he wins.

"Second of all..." my underwear join my pants on the car's floor. "Tell mom I'm f-fine. I'm coming home."

"You don't sound fine, dude. What's going on?" I try to say something, but Cartman's faster, taking my cock in his hand and stroking it slowly. I swallow hard. He sucks on my neck, making my body twist. This feels oddly amazing. "Kyle?" Ike asks. I moan, shutting my lips as soon as the sound comes out.
Cartman laughs his throaty, sexy deep laugh and tightens his grip on my cock, making me shudder.

I must look so freaked out now. He gives my neck one last sloppy kiss, stroking me faster. I regain my sanity and press my phone tightly against my ear, trying hopelessly to close my legs. Cartman parts them again with ease.

"Ike? T-tell mom I'm- aah, tell her I'm...I'm...coming." I emphasize my words, hitting Cartman softly with my leg. He winks at me.

"Gotcha." he whispers before bending over and taking the head of my cock in his mouth, his tongue running over it. I moan and unwittingly buck up into his mouth. He adjusts his head, changing the angle and taking me further into his throat, to the point where I truly believe he's deep-throating me.
I wonder how many times he's done this before...

"Kyle, are you...dude, gross! Really?" Ike yells in my ear, making me light headed. I can't bring myself to say anything, so I just mumble a 'whatever' and throw my cell phone aside.

"Shit, Cartman..." I trail off as his mouth meets the base of my cock. My eyes roll to the back of my skull.

"Come for me, Kyle." I moan deeply as he pulls away and finishes me off with his hand, licking his way up my neck. I come in his hand, sweat dripping down my face. He takes my lip between his teeth and tugs at it harshly, until we can both feel the taste of blood.

I sigh as I fumble around to try and find my phone. I pull my boxers and pants up as Cartman cleans his hands in the car seat. There's an awkward silence as the afterglow of my orgasm fades away slowly. When I feel like I can talk properly, I push the car's door open.

"Cartman...I'm just..." I start, but can't complete my sentence. He just stares at me.

"Kyle." I look up to meet his eyes. He gives my hand a last squeeze before leaning in. I feel his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers softly: "You're not drunk."

I hop out of the car, unable to think straight. I watch as his cars pulls out of my driveway until it's completely gone.

So...if I'm not drunk...

I'm definitely gay.

For Eric Cartman.

So...this is it. Did you like it? Hahahaha. And please don't be mad at me for the little Stan/Kyle on the beggining of the fic; it was just some sort of introduction for the real thing. ;)

I understand that a few Kyman shippers don't really like Style, so don't hate me, please.

I'm not a big fan of that ship, either.

But don't worry, if I do write another chapter, it will be Kyman centered! Promise!

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