The air conditioning of the room glided blissfully over their sweat-soaked skin. Two bodies lied side-by-side as their chests heaved towards the ceiling. Their eyes occasionally glanced towards one another, both worriedly searching for words although the two of them knew well enough that words weren't needed. They never were.
The larger of the two reached down, peeling the spent condom off of himself and tossing it into the wastebasket beside the bed. The younger watched every movement through the veil of moonlight peeking in the draped window. His analytic green eyes tracing over the curves of his partner's muscles, the broad lining of his physique. He couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew he'd lucked out, catching the eyes of someone so perfectly sculpted, someone so beautiful.
The other caught his stand and he could make out a smile creeping over his handsome face in the darkness. "Something the matter, Kyle?" he teased.
Kyle rolled his eyes. Stan loved taunting him after sex. It never failed. He let out a 'hmph', rolling over onto his side and draping his arm over Stan's torso. He moved his head to rest on the boy's shoulder, his fingers mindlessly stroking the sheets beneath them.
Stan chuckled, arm moving to twirl fingers delicately through Kyle's curly red hair, a movement he knew was making the boy on top of him melt against him. "Why are you so tired?" he whispered, his warm breath bouncing through wisps of auburn. "I was doing all the work."
"Shut up," Kyle mumbled tiredly, swatting at him. "You wouldn't understand."
"Guess not," he snorted, kissing the top of his head lightly.
"Though..." Kyle tilted his face up towards him. "We could always let you find out," he smiled innocently, poking at his side lightly.
"No thanks," Stan smirked back, reaching over to his nightstand and pushing the button for his alarm. The both watched the red 6:45 AM blinking in the darkness before turning back to 11:42.
"Why not?" Kyle questioned quietly, his finger ghosting over Stan's bare chest.
"Not interested," Stan worked out through a heavy yawn. He moved, grabbing his blanket from the foot of the bed and shielding their naked bodies against exposure.
"Why not?" Kyle repeated, drooping against him exhaustively.
"Ky, you like being on bottom, right?"
"Well...yeah but-"
"Then why change what we both like?"
Kyle was silent as a frown worked its way over his slender face, "Maybe I'd like to be on top now and again."
"You have been."
"Sitting on top of you and still having your dick up my ass doesn't constitute as topping, Stan," he argued.
"You're smaller," Stan stated bluntly. "Smaller people on the bottom."
Kyle sat up rapidly and glared at him, trying to ignore the blood now rushing to his head from the sudden movement. "So, you'd let Cartman top you," he spat.
"What?! Hell no I don't need to think about that thing being naked, thanks," Stan stuck his tongue out in disgust.
"You're missing my point," Kyle set his lips firmly. "Just because I'm smaller than you-"
"Than anyone," Stan interrupted smugly.
"Shut up. Point is that I'm just as much of a man as you are. Why shouldn't I have the same privileges as you?"
"Because I love your fine ass," Stan smiled cheekily and smacked it firmly atop the blanket.
Kyle stayed silent, biting the inside of his lip before pushing off of Stan and rolling off the bed.
"Where are you going?" Stan blinked after him.
"I have to piss," Kyle said dryly. "Or do I not have the same bathroom privileges as thine holiness either?"
"Oh Jesus Christ, Kyle," Stan rolled his eyes. "No need to be such a girl about it."
Kyle cringed at the word, the aggravated side of him pining to yell and throw things for that comment. The exasperated side won out, however and he silently pulled on his pajama bottoms before heading out of the bedroom into the hallway of the Marsh home. He practically dove into the bathroom to distance himself, quietly shutting and locking the door behind him. He headed over to the sink, turning the faucet on cold and watching it cascade down the drain.
His tired eyes glanced up at the mirror, looking at the mess of his post-coital self. He took a handful of water and splashed it over his hair, fingers working methodically to make sense of his frizzy and squished locks. He swiped his hand over his face dampening his burning flesh with the drops that escaped his bangs. His eyes glanced to a single, vibrant red mark of his chest. He grimaced.
Only one.
When they'd started out only seven months beforehand, Stan couldn't keep his hands off of him. Kyle felt himself lucky for the winter season, easily able to hide the marks with a steady supply of scarves and turtlenecks. Red, purple, and blue hickeys, teeth marks, and other markings became a permanent part of his complexion. He loved those marks. It meant that Stan was claiming him, was letting everyone else know that Kyle was his and his alone.
But now? Only one that someone could pass off as mild skin irritation.
Kyle pressed his thumb against the hickey, pulling back and watching it fade from white back into bright red.
He frowned, feeling a heavy pull at his heart. Tonight's minor squabble shouldn't have been bugging him so much. He knew that. In fact, Kyle honestly didn't care how they had sex. His interest in topping was really only fleeting, nothing that egged him on or irked him after each tumble in the sheets. He was just happy enough being able to be with Stan.
He just wasn't sure if it was the same the other way around. Stan became so stoic towards him in such a short amount of time. It worried Kyle. It worried him a little too much for his own good.
Stan being so adamant on keeping things in his comfort zone was wearing down on Kyle's nerves. Nothing was spontaneous anymore. Even tonight was just a typical Thursday for the two of them. Go to school, hit Stan's house, eat and play the same damn Call of Duty game a few hours, then retreat to the bedroom and have sex once Randy and Sharon were asleep.
The routine wasn't one of comfort, it was monotony. It was stale. And as much as Kyle hated to admit it, it was just boring.
He sighed, turning the faucet off with a limp hand. He could feel his eyes weighing down in his exhaustion. He ran his fingers through his hair a final time before looking at his expression to be sure his frustration had dissipated from his face.
He took a long breath before turning on his heel and walking out of the bathroom. He made his way back towards Stan's door, trying desperately to ignore the incredible tensed state building up in his shoulders.
He quietly stepped back into the dark room and watched the bed as he shut the door behind him. He could hear the typical deep breathing of his lover and couldn't help but sigh.
Sex then sleep. It was like a program set to loop through the wiring of Stan's brain. Nothing else could interrupt that routine. Not anymore.
Kyle made his way over to the bed, trying to plod softly on the carpeted surface. He slid onto his side, kicking his covers to the end of the bed. He couldn't take heat right now. He was still just too worked up.
He sighed again, lying on his side and towards the window facing away from Stan. His hand wormed up under his head and he lightly twirled a curled strand meticulously around his finger.
The bed shifted and he could feel Stan moving towards him. "You all right?" Stan muttered by his ear.
"I'm fine," he replied, never peeling his eyes from the window.
He felt more movement before the weight of covers were thrown over his torso. "No," he said tiredly, throwing them back off. A moment of heavy silence passed before a strong arm wrapped around his stomach. Stan pulled him flush back against himself, only the comforter keeping Kyle from practically melding into his skin.
A very mumbled "Love you," was uttered from the skin of his shoulder blade and Kyle shuddered.
He knew Stan loved him, he knew that something was still there. It just wasn't the same forcible passion that had convinced Kyle to love him back. But it still stirred up a spark somewhere deep inside of him.
He shifted, falling deeper into the pillows and closer into Stan, who was already falling back asleep. Kyle let a few moments pass, his eyes still trained on a tree branch hovering right outside the window as his lids began to tiredly droop. Stan shifted once more, holding him tighter as Kyle breathed out into vacant moonlight, "you, too."