A/N: Concept from me being tipsy af last night and laughing hysterically at the idea of hipster Kyle. Because he would be the one to fall into that crap. Him or Stan, really, either one.
Enjoy~
Dear sweet Jesus he hated this place.
Bustling with quiet murmurs of conversation, the soft-set environmentally friendly lightbulbs were dimmed to where reading the chalkboard-scrawled 'Tea of the Day' was a strain on his eyes and his patience. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the small room to see faces aglow with the screens of beaten-to-shit laptops plastered in mismatched stickers displaying peace proclamations, animal rights demands, and fake mustaches. The scent of far too many loose-leaf teas lingered in the air, the overwhelming combination of citrus and chamomile and English grey making him nothing short of nauseated.
Kenny groaned, looking down at his watch and twisting his lips, glancing to Stan next to him calmly working his way through a tall biodegradable cup of Acadian. Flavored chocolate pecan pie, the sticker on his cup was boldly green against the stark cardboard and declaring the free-trade organic route from which the beans were procured. "How can you stand this place?" Kenny groaned miserably.
Stan paused halfway towards another sip, looking up from his phone screen and blinking at him. "Whaddya mean?"
"It smells like a goddamn compost heap," he scoffed, upper lip rising into a sharp sneer of distaste.
The noirette snorted, "They have one out back," he jerked his head towards the back kitchen. Kenny's tongue stuck out in the slightest, a shiver crawling up his spine. Stan just shook his head. "I don't know, Man, I don't mind too much. Probably because Wendy loves this place," he shrugged.
Kenny glanced around at the disheveled clothing of their fellow patrons and raised his brow. "Even Wendy seems too good for this place."
"Hey," he pouted, smacking him with the back of his hand lightly.
He shot him a dry look. "Stan. Am I fucking wrong?"
The boy blinked again, looking around subtly at the other people still clacking away, no doubt knee-deep in writing scripts and tales of romances gone awry, where their characters needed no one to validate who they were in the end. In their fictional universe, they were the heroes; misunderstood and quirky but always in the right, even when the rest of the world just didn't see it that way. No one would understand them but their authors, just as it was supposed to be. "Okay, point taken."
A girlfriend who was vegetarian every day except for Fridays for dinner nights with his family couldn't exactly be lumped into the vegan-professing subculture surrounding them. They glanced at each other for a brief moment, once more regretting not just bringing in a couple burgers to chomp down on, see just how many disgusted faces and stage whispered condescensions they could get before they were asked to leave.
The front door jingled with the shoddily homemade bell signal, both of them whipping their heads towards it and sighing in relief as their counterpart finally made his way into the shop, awkwardly shifting a canvas messenger bag on his shoulder. Kenny narrowed his eyes slightly as a flash of unnatural color crested the top of his head, the newcomer's eyes finding his behind prescription lenses within far-too-thick frames and a smile cresting his lips.
"Please tell me that's the lights," Stan muttered blankly.
"Oh my god," Kenny shook his head slowly.
"Hey, guys," Kyle greeted them, leaning down and stealing a kiss from the dumbfounded blonde. "What's up?"
Kenny reached upwards, snagging the handmade olive beanie, a knitting experiment gone slightly right turned present via Bebe, off the top of his head. His face began steadily falling at the natural glowing red of his hair stopping at his bangs, fading down over his forehead in a nearly-neon violet. "What the fuck did you do to your hair?!" he nearly screeched.
His lips tugged upwards amusedly. "Bebe wanted to test some new dye she found," he shrugged, tousling his colored bangs. "Needed a guinea pig so I volunteered."
"Why?!" he said in dismay, standing and looking at the top of his head, the horridly clashing hues blinding even in the limited lighting.
He crossed his arms and shrugged dismissively. "I didn't see the harm. She found it from this vegan homemade seller online," he waved his hand aimlessly. "Besides, nothing wrong with something different."
"There's different and then there's... this," Kenny yanked on a strand of purple and Kyle hissed, batting his hand away and pouting.
He snagged his beanie back and shoved it back atop his head, fiddling to let his hair escape out just so. "Well, the box kind of lied," he said dryly. "It was supposed to be sangria. But I like it regardless," he declared.
"Did Bebe?" Stan quirked his brow.
He blinked, "That's not the point." He looked up at his taller boyfriend still staring at him in despair. "The fuck's wrong with you?"
"I liked your hair the way it was," he whined.
Kyle scoffed, "Well guess what? My hair, my rules." He straightened up primly, making way towards the counter and folding his finger for him to follow. Kenny looked at Stan, who just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. The blonde pouted, following after the half-redhead and standing beside him up front. "So whaddya want?" Kyle glanced up at him as he fished in his bag for his wallet.
Ken shook his head, "If you wore jeans you didn't have to sew on, you'd have fucking pockets."
"I'm not listening to this again," Kyle snapped. "Besides, I don't hear you complaining when you're walking behind me."
He pouted. Ok. He had a point. He let his eyes drift up to the board, cocking his brow as he did every time. This was too confusing. Why couldn't this shop have a simple list of flavors and sizes and varieties? How Kyle could make the slightest lick of sense from their disarrayed disaster of a menu was far beyond Kenny's understanding.
"What can I get you guys?" A girl with waist-length dreadlocks greeted them with a smile. Kenny shuddered, not willing to picture the dirt and grime no doubt trapped in those dishwater blonde knotted strands.
"I wanna a large skinny soy cinnamon latte with two extra espresso shots and caramel drizzle," Kyle rambled off. He turned to his stumped boyfriend. "Ken? You?"
"I..." He blinked, shaking his head slowly, simply just overwhelmed. "Fuck it, I'll get a milkshake from McDonald's." he waved off the girl.
Kyle frowned, "They have smoothies literally right goddamn here."
"For four times the price and half the flavor," he cocked his brow. "Get your coffee and then come with me to get a damn shake."
The redhead scowled. "Fine," he said curtly, turning back to the girl. "And a bag of London Fog, please," he added quietly.
"$10.89," she declared.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Kenny muttered, shaking his head in disbelief as Kyle handed her a ten and five.
"Keep the change," he said smoothly, pivoting and snagging Kenny's arm, dragging him to the end of the counter to wait for his drink and glaring up at him. "I was paying," he reminded him. "Cost didn't matter."
He rolled his blue eyes, "It matters to me."
He cocked his brow, "You've ordered goddamn steak on my dime."
"Nooo," he drawled. "You ordered for me when I was in the goddamn bathroom! I was gonna order goddamn chicken nuggets!"
Kyle paused, readjusting his rolled sleeves and clearing his throat. "Not the point. You wanted steak so you got steak."
Kenny leaned his head back and groaned. Things were so much simpler when his boyfriend wasn't pulling this crap, when he didn't have a pretentious stick shoved up his ass to the point where Kenny could barely worm himself in beside it. "Kyle why can't we just drink at Tweek's?" he sighed irritably.
"Because I like it here," he frowned. "Tweek's place doesn't have tea."
They both glanced over as Stan walked up beside them, shaking his head. "I'm half-convinced you fucking bathe in that tea, Ky," he said dryly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, insulted.
"He means you smell like this fucking place. Constantly," Kenny rolled his eyes. The last six months had been a killer on his sinuses, Kyle somehow always coming to see him smelling like a musty basement between his thrift store tight-fitting shirts and carrying tea with him wherever he went. How he hadn't been murdered by someone with allergies yet, Kenny would never know.
The shorter shrugged, "Nothing wrong with that. It smells divine in here."
"Oh my god, don't say something smells 'divine'," Kenny air quoted. "There's being gay and then there's that."
Kyle pouted, "Don't be homophobic."
"I'm your boyfriend."
He twisted his lips and crossed his arms. "Whatever. I'm sorry that I happen to like the one shop in town that promises fair trade beans and aromatic teas. How fucking dare I have preferences."
Kenny looked at Stan dryly. "Remember eight months ago when he called this place nothing but a bunch of hippie-dippy vegan hipster fucktards gathered in a cult?"
"And the only reason they drank here was because 'they were afraid the natural light would spotlight how lonely they all are'," he continued with a smirk, both of them looking down at the now-fuming redhead.
"Tastes change," he said sharply.
"Sure they do, Grimace," Kenny teased, yanking on a loose piece of purple hanging under his hat.
Stan snorted, "So, what's your mom gonna do when she sees what you did?" Kyle blinked, eyes widening and face paling in the slightest, evident even in the ambient orange glow of the coffee shop. He hadn't considered that.
"Ohhhh man," Kenny laughed, the chuckles tinged with bitterness. "She's gonna fuckin' kill you."
Kyle opened his mouth to argue before a large cup bumped into his arm. "Here ya go," a cheerful barista in a bow tie proclaimed. "And your tea," he slid a bag of leaves beside it.
The redhead whirled around and snagged the items, shoving his tea into his bag and shooting him a smile, "Thank you."
"No problem." He paused, looking the boy up and down as he readjusted his tote. "Hey, you interested in music?"
"Who isn't?" he glanced back up and quirked his brow.
Kyle watched the guy lean down on the counter in front of him, sliding a basket of CD's towards the edge, Kenny narrowing his eyes suspiciously from behind. "My band's trying to take off, you look like the type with good tastes," he purred. "It's garage rock, all composed by yours truly," he gestured to himself.
Kyle smirked, "I'm impressed. Not too often you find a composer in a shit town like this."
"Tell me about it," he rolled his eyes dramatically before returning the expression of the other. "We're having a little concert down at the hookah lounge in Bailey tonight," he said casually. "I can give you a ride if you wanna see-"
"NO," Kenny intervened, grabbing Kyle around his shoulders and ripping him back. "Thanks for the coffee. Gonna take my boyfriend home now," he spat, roughly shoving Kyle towards the door.
"Uh... Thanks," Stan smiled with a wince and tipped his half-emptied cup towards the bewildered barista and hurried after the other two out the door.
"Ken, Ken stop!" Kyle squirmed as the blonde kept pushing him down the sidewalk, face twisted in a scowl. "Kenny, I wasn't gonna- Ken, knock it off!" he whirled back and shoved him away. They stared at each other sternly. "Where the hell do you get off?"
"On you," he said sharply. "He's not allowed!"
Stan groaned, "Not in public," he pleaded. "Please not here."
The redhead rolled his eyes, both of them ignoring Stan's pitiful whining. "For fuck's sake I wasn't gonna go anywhere with him! I was just being goddamn polite!"
Kenny frowned, "Well how was I supposed to tell?! He looks like the fuckin' type to dress with ya like a goddamn queen and go to poetry slams with you!" he waved his hands around frantically.
Kyle blinked, looking down at his tight-fitting clothes, "I am not dressed like a queen!"
"All you need is a goddamn tiara," he drawled.
Stan's eyes widened, looking between the both of them fuming at each other and gulped. "Uh... guys?"
"WHAT?!" they screamed, looking over at him in rage.
He jerked back and held up his free hand in defense. "Guys... calm down."
"How can I? I'm a fucking queen," Kyle mocked, going back to glaring at his boyfriend. "Just because I'm not buying into Kenny's milkshake-loving corporate swill tirade!"
"The fuck does that even mean?" Kenny scrunched his face. "Do you even know? Or did you get that from a fucking blog post from someone who takes fuckin' pictures of shadows of statues because they're so fucking 'artsy'?" he snapped.
Kyle glared, "It's called being avant-garde. Just because your idea of art is stacking cans of fuckin' Pabst doesn't mean it applies to everyone!"
The blonde grit his teeth, "Oh fuck you, I'm the one in art classes, not you. You decided instead to take creative writing to 'express yourself'," he reminded him derisively.
"Guys, stop!" Stan begged, looking at them inching closer to each other, both shaking in frustration.
Kyle growled, taking an infuriated swig of his overpriced organic coffee and shaking his head. "Fuck you, McCormick," he spat, turning on his heel and stomping away in his worn and torn Converse.
"No, fuck you, Broflovski!" he shouted after him. "Don't you fuckin' run away from me!" He hurried after him, leaving Stan standing staring after them in complete befuddlement.
He began to step off to follow before frowning to himself. "No. I'm not doing this," he muttered, pivoting on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. He wasn't playing mediator for them, they could work their own bullshit out.
Kenny caught up to his receding boyfriend and hopped in front of him, staring him down. Kyle came to a full stop, scowling. "Move, you uncultured piece of shit!" he snapped.
"How am I uncultured?" He scoffed. "I'm the one living in reality here. You're playing make-believe depth with all your other hipster buddies!"
His face paled before gnashing his teeth together, "I am not a hip-"
"Look at how you're dressed!" he interjected, gesturing at him wildly. "Ky, you look like you stepped right out of a motherfuckin' Tumblr catalogue!"
He frowned in offense, "I like how I look like this."
Ken rolled his eyes, "Babe. Like how you look all ya goddamn want, but don't act like you're better than everyone else while you do so."
"I don't!" he protested.
"You just told me I was on a 'corporate swill tirade'," he narrowed his eyes. "Because I wanted a fucking dollar shake from goddamn McDonald's."
He crossed his arms, taking another sip of his coffee. "You pissed me off," he said primly. "Get your mass-produced preservatives from wherever you damn well please."
Kenny's entire face twisted, completely unable to comprehend just what it was his boyfriend was spewing. "Next thing you know, you're going to talk about fuckin' cleansing toxins or some other faggot shit."
"The only faggot shit here is you," he said coldly.
"Last time I checked, you're pretty fuckin' happy with a cock up your ass, Kyle!" he snapped.
He sneered, "Well, not yours. Not anymore."
"What, you breakin' up with me just because I won't act like a pretentious douche? Congrats, you're the first to do that." He leaned down in his face, icy eyes boring into him as they locked intensive stares. "Guess now you can say you did it before it was cool."
"Fuck. You." he breathed furiously.
"No, fuck you." They continued to scowl at each other, teeth bared and ready to take the other down in a screeching battle, air thick and beyond musty between them and Kyle's dime store clothing. Kyle's hand flew up and snared Kenny's hair in a death lock grip, turning and storming away, dragging him behind him. "Fuckin'!" Kenny hissed, squirming and trying to pry off Kyle's blaring white knuckles. "Kyle, fuckin' stop!" he demanded.
Kyle remained silent and stewing, dragging him between the coffee shop and a dilapidated insurance building. Kenny winced, continuing to wriggle around, nose scrunching as the smell of compost hit a disgusting peak. He yelped as Kyle finally came to a stop far enough down the narrow alley to see the beginnings of backyard fencing behind a low-lying dumpster. Kenny stood up, rubbing his head and frowning angrily. "The fuck was that-"
He stopped with a small squeak as Kyle threw his coffee violently against the wall with a large splash and snared the back of his neck, forcing him down and planting their lips firmly against one another's. Kenny blinked in a stupor for a moment before his body kicked straight into that oh-so-familiar gear, hands automatically swooping up to thread under the acrylic beanie and through red and purple curls. Their mouths opened, hot and angry breaths seeping between the both of them as they tried to suffocate the other with their tongue.
Kenny forcibly shoved the younger against the bricks beside them, hearing that grunt of an approving moan underlying with a frustrated tone. His fingers tightened in his hair, ripping Kyle's lips off of his own and forcing his head to the side, teeth eagerly finding the first patch of skin it could on his neck and latching down. Kyle hissed through his teeth, green eyes alit with a rare wildfire that Kenny only got in these instances. He turned his head just slightly to the hand holding his hair captive, twisting and biting down on the offending wrist.
The blonde groaned, pressing deeper against his throat, finding a new victim spot and sucking hard enough to break capillaries galore. He firmly forced his body up against Kyle's, free hand sneaking back and gripped his tightly denim-clad ass, pulling him back up to meet his hips. Kyle's canines continued to sink into his wrist, Ken tightening his grip in the boy's hair enough to start ripping out weakened strands. Slim fingers ran up Kenny's back, nails digging into his shoulder blades and pulling him closer. He let out an approving hum, biting down sharply to elicit a groan from Kyle reverberating into his hand. Kyle's hips began bucking against him, both of them lost in a whirlwind of hormones, anger, and cramping jaws from their pit bull grips.
"Fuckin' hipster," Kenny said harshly, pulling off his neck and hair, ripping off Kyle's messenger bag and letting it fall to the ground.
"Country bumpkin!" he shot back, eyes widening as Kenny grabbed his arms and forced him around, pressing him stomach-first against the brick. He hissed, trying to back up before Kenny shifted him back down, rutting against him agonizingly slow. Kyle snarled, trying to wriggle out before Kenny grabbed his wrists, slamming them down on either side of his head and continuing to push against him.
"My ass still too corporate for you?" he challenged, moving down and planting hot, firm kisses on the back of his neck. Kyle whimpered as he was fully shoved into the brick, skin being nipped by clay and shale. Kenny kicked his legs apart, pressing his hips pointedly against his ass. "Well?"
Kyle turned his head, glaring at him sharply. "You gonna fuckin' do anything or just idly sit by like the drone you are?"
Kenny smirked, biting down on his earlobe and roughly tugging. "You gonna use that mouth to say anythin' useful for once? Or just gonna ask if I have any vegan alternatives?"
Kyle grunted, pushing himself back against Kenny's rhythm, feeling the blonde's jaw quake around his his ear. "I'm not a fucking vegan," he hissed.
"No, you're too fucking addicted to meat," he said smugly, humping up against him harshly.
"Keep up your bullshit and I'm goin' cold turkey," he weakly threatened, losing his voice at the end with another press rounding the curve of his body.
Kenny's eyes flickered to either side of the concrete corridor, seeing people walking far off and away, not taking the slightest notice of the two of them dry-humping in the alleyway. A sly grin sliced through his face. Good. He pulled back all at once and snagged Kyle's hair again. In one swift, practiced movement, he twirled the redhead around, his hat flying off to the side in the process as he shoved him down to his knees. Kyle winced at the sudden change, eyes crossing for a moment from a temporary dizziness before he found himself staring at Kenny's zipper. "Cold turkey, huh?" he said wryly, pulling him up closer towards his crotch. Kyle's slender hands caught themselves on the blonde's thighs, glaring up at him darkly. "You really think you have restraint?" he purred, shoving Kyle's head forward, the boy feeling the twitching skin hiding under the denim covering against his lips. His jaw trembled, mouth automatically salivating in a Pavlovian response that Kenny had drilled into him over the years.
"I don't have to do-" he stopped as he was pushed firmer against him, losing his words in a choke of air and the overwhelming heat against him. His glasses were nearly fogging, fingers twitching against Kenny's thighs.
"You're right," he said cooly. "You don't have to do anything... But you want to," he smirked. "And I'm letting you."
"How kind," he muttered, feeling Kenny's cock moving with the vibration of his voice.
The blonde rolled his eyes amusedly. "C'monnnn," he urged. "Call it... fair trade." Kyle looked back up at him and narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend grinning cheekily. "You get me, I get you."
Kyle rolled his eyes with an aggravated sigh, moving his hand up to undo Kenny's jeans. He tried pulling his head back, held firm by a calloused hand and clicking tongue. He grimaced, struggling to fight down the fabric in such close proximity. His fingernails scraped against the button as he clumsily undid the hold, pulling down the zipper and losing his breath at the heady, earthy musk seeping towards him. He fidgeted, popping the two buttons of Kenny's boxers and staring at the hot skin more than ready for him. He licked his lips, reaching around the heat and shuddering, working it out into the air, gasping as Kenny shoved him down over it immediately.
He winced, mouth overtaken all at once with the flavor of Kenny. The blonde grinned, leading him along with violent pulls of his hair. Kyle whimpered, hands re-gripping his thighs and letting himself be ragdolled along. His lips smoothly slid to form around the skin, tongue assuming its regular role in gliding as it pleased. Kenny shuddered, feeling the slick muscle dipping around the head with each pull back, Kyle's intimate knowledge of everything that made him a pile of nothingness at its height. The redhead's eyes slipped shut for a moment, all focus falling on his throat as Kenny neared closer and closer towards the edge of the chasm. Open the airway, take a deep breath when he got the chance, swallow twice, and he was golden. A tricky routine that he'd had to learn rather quickly when they'd started out. Whether or not what he was doing was truly physiologically helpful or if he was getting by on a placebo mattered not. What mattered was the results.
Kenny pressed until he felt those telltale two gulps, breaking into a wide, wild grin. He ripped Kyle back, watching his mouth hanging agape with gasps, eyes opening to glance at Kenny through his lenses and his left hand mechanically showing itself to Ken's cock, stroking as they stared at each other. "Cold turkey?" he repeated smugly.
"I can stop if that's what you fuckin' want," Kyle croaked breathlessly.
He scoffed, "Don't fucking lie to yourself."
"Oh fuck you-" he stopped with a hiss as Kenny pushed him back, slamming the back of his head against the bricks behind him. He opened his mouth to protest before he found himself filled yet again with stifling warmth. He moaned, eyes rolling back as he was kept planted, Kenny thrusting his hips into the hot, wet chasm that was oh-so-familiar and always a treat to visit. He pushed himself down further, Kyle's nose brushing his pubic bone. He could feel Kyle forcing himself to go limber and allow the intrusion, cheeks hollowing and tongue mapping itself out a nice course along the ridges of flesh. A flicker of movement caught his eye, seeing Kyle's fingers scraping up his own thigh, edging ever closer to his zipper.
"Hands up," Kenny ordered with a pointed thrust. Kyle narrowed his eyes, the command hazy in his overtaken senses, but well enough recognized to know that Kenny was trying to deny him. "Kyle," he said firmly yanking on his hair tighter. The redhead squeaked with the added pressure, the combination of sharp tugs and breathlessness dismantling a stubborn rebellious streak.
He groaned, unwillingly lifting his hands up in front of him. "Against the wall," Ken barked.
Kyle rolled his eyes, letting out short bursts of an exasperated sigh with each of the blonde's propulsions. Genially, he did as told, placing his hands on either side of his head facing outwards. He moaned lewdly as Kenny released his hair for a moment and snagged them, snapping his wrists together above his head under one firmly pressing palm. "Good," Kenny said approvingly, resuming his threading through violet and red.
A tremble descended down Kyle's spine, captive fingers twitching as Kenny's nails calmed just a bit against their pulling, lovingly stroking over his scalp in short pets. His jaw was locking up, back of his skull throbbing from being bashed around, but it mattered little. What mattered right now was tension relief, and nothing relieved his tension more than this neverending game that he and Kenny had crafted time and again. The scenario always different, but the result always the same: Scream, insult, fuck it out.
Bebe had asked him about it while haphazardly dying his hair as he had told her that he and Kenny were at odds with each other the last few weeks, commenting on how it worried her how they worked their issues out. Kyle had just smirked, merely allowing her to continue painting over his curls and rambling off Cosmopolitan advice on healthy communication. Once every few months was nothing for them to be concerned about. Tensions rose now and then, it was more than expected to happen. Maybe other couples enjoyed the concept of talking it out, sitting down and making lists and writing each other letters over what their issues were. Not Kenny and Kyle. Their method was tried and true: Argue, screw, and the problem was never brought up again. Unhealthy, Stan had called it. Disrespectful, as Wendy put it. But considering their track records stacked up against one another; Stan and Wendy in constant wars while Kyle nestled on Kenny's lap and they relished in sweet affections on a damn near constant basis with only the occasional squabble, the redhead could only assume that they were doing it right.
Kenny grunted, pulling Kyle's head a bit straighter and increasing the pressure on his wrists until he heard that blissful moan eek its way through the constant barrage of slick slurping sound. He shook his head, eying that purple once again in distaste and picking up his pace. He wasn't dumb, he knew well enough the dye would fade and he would get his old homegrown nerdy boyfriend back once this phase was well and past. He couldn't fucking wait. Though, he'd certainly have to do what he could to keep those form-fitting pants in Kyle's wardrobe.
Kyle let out another long-winded muffled moan, fingers flexing in Kenny's tight grip, tongue rubbing raw from the consistent assault. He glanced up, seeing the blonde's eyes fixated on him, staring at him like a piece of art he couldn't quite decipher but was uniquely entranced by. His entire body was flooded with warmth at the look, the cold crassness cut down by a nice bout of yelling and his talented mouth and replaced with the familiarity of adoration that he'd so grown accustomed to. He blinked, tilting his head back just enough for Kenny to have a curved path rounding the roof of his mouth. Kenny shuddered, fingers shaking in Kyle's hair and tugging urgently. Kyle watched his lips silently fumbling, trying to find words but for once unable to and he grinned to himself, green eyes deviously gleaming.
He tugged his wrists, Kenny releasing them and Kyle clutching onto the heated, slicked skin, pumping rapidly as he slowly slid his cock out of his mouth. He rested his tongue flatly against the head, swiping up the leaking slit and keeping their gazes firmly locked.
"Goddammit," Kenny cursed sharply, holding onto Kyle's hair with both hands for stabilization, feeling himself rapidly building towards his end. He could feel each taste bud bumping along his cock, each precisely timed lick, locked down into a customized, practiced rhythm that no other person had or could possibly give him.
"Shit shit shit!' he spat, body jerking forward as a final innocent lick passed over him, the alleyway melting away and leaving him nothing but a disoriented picture of red and purple.
Kyle fell back against the wall from the sudden push, shutting his eyes as a spurting of white flew towards him, hand keeping its pace and loud gasping breaths coming through his throat. A splattering of his reward splashed onto his tongue like summer rain, oh so satisfying and sweet to the taste. Pure refreshment.
Kenny let go of his hair all at once, planting his hands on the wall and panting, trying to keep himself from faltering and collapsing right on top of him. He creaked his eyes open, looking to see Kyle panting, mechanically tonguing residue still lingering on his dick before lazily pushing him back into his boxers. The redhead looked back up, face a complete glistening mess. Kenny smirked as the boy tongued cum trailing close enough to his lips. "Still think you can quit?" he asked breathlessly.
Kyle's face cracked into a smarmy grin, "If I don't get the favor returned, who knows?" he managed to rasp out cooly. Kenny winked, reaching down and helping him up, pushing him against the wall yet again and scanning over the mess of fluid trickling along his skin.
"Hmm," he mused, kissing him gently, every ounce of rage completely subsided in lieu of veneration settling back where it belonged. "I suppose," he teased, trailing his tongue up his cheek through his mess, getting another grin out of the redhead. "Your hair doesn't look too bad if my spunk's in it," Ken smirked.
"Asshole," he murmured, leaning back and moaning quietly as Kenny continued to clean him off, fingers trailing down his hips and forcing his jeans apart. He sighed contentedly, head falling to the side as Kenny began work on another mark on the surface of his neck littered with week-old hickeys, relishing in the touch up.
He moaned louder, hips pushing up as Kenny's hand snaked down his undone jeans and gripped his skin. Hot breath and a wicked grin settled against his neck. "As faggy as you look, I do love the lack of boxers."
"Ruins the look of the pants, Man," he murmured dreamily, hooking his fingers up through his hair and urging him to continue nibbling on his throat. He grinned, kissing his temple and lightly biting his ear, hissing as that loving palm slowly rubbed over him, hips arching with each press.
"Ahem."
They both shot their heads down towards the back of the alley, eyes widening at the bow-tied barista holding a garbage bag and staring at them blankly. "Coffee that good?"
Kyle's cum-coated face began burning with color, standing out starkly under his neon bangs. Kenny smirked, jerking his head up superiorly. "Still want 'im to ride along with you? 'Cause I'm thinkin' he's gonna wanna ride from me," he wriggled his brows.
"Ken!" Kyle spat, trying to pry his hand out of his pants and hide his shame before the blonde forced him back into place, ignoring his wriggling and staring the worker down in challenge.
The barista shook his head slowly. "You're not the firsts to fuck back here and you won't be the last," he sighed irritably. He dropped the trash bag on the pavement. "Throw this in the dumpster when you're done, will ya?"
"No problem," Kenny grinned cheekily. "Love your guys' scones by the way."
The man rolled his eyes and turned back to head in the side door, the boys watching after him before looking back at each other, Kyle scowling. "Fucking really?"
Kenny smirked and shrugged, lapping slowly up his face yet again, feeling the redhead melting in his hands as he smoothly cupped his flagging erection. "He's not good enough for you."
"Oh really?" Kyle rolled his eyes, chuckling as Kenny peppered his neck with quick nips.
"Nah, after all, unlike me," he cupped his chin, placing a quick peck on his nose and swiping a finger through the remainder of his mess, placing it in Kyle's mouth and grinning at his automatic cleanup, "he just doesn't appreciate the avant-garde."
A/N: It's never taken me this long to write this short of a story I'm not a happy camper pfff
This coffee shop is 100% based on my town's local shop. It is fucking hipster central it's awful. Think I was exaggerating in this story? You're wrong. Just waiting impatiently over here for our Starbucks to finally be completed so I have alternatives outside of fuckin' Tim Hortons ugh.
Thanks for R&Ring!