Kyle, Stan, and Kenny had been having sleepovers almost every Friday night for the better part of a year; ever since Kyle's parents had the basement refinished. It was pretty much an unspoken arrangement at this point, and like clockwork Stan and Kenny would show up at Kyle's door at the same time - 7 pm sharp - every week clutching backpacks and sleeping bags. Kenny would usually sneak in some booze and maybe some weed, and they'd sit around and play video games and shoot the shit; pretty standard sleepover stuff, really.

They had invited Cartman over the first few times but it quickly became established that it just wasn't going to work. The tension between he and Kyle had reached a fever pitch and they were fighting constantly; like two angry cats in a sack. It was almost like their passage into high school, their junior year specifically, unleashed so much stress and rage inside of both of them that they couldn't even pretend to be tolerant of each other anymore.

"It's clearly sexual," Stan had commented, nodding.

This was after another blow up had occurred, with Cartman slamming out of Kyle's house and Kyle retreating into a corner so he could sulk in a decidedly self-indulgent way; pissed off that he'd given Cartman another chance even though he clearly didn't deserve it.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely," Kenny had agreed, scrolling on his phone and giving Kyle a suggestive grin that made him bristle up; ready to fight always.

"You guys are fucking demented," he snapped, crossing his arms and refusing to even look at either of them. "Especially you Stan. I mean, I would expect this bullshit from that perv," he waved his hand at Kenny dismissively. "But not from you. How can you sit there and say this has anything to do with sex when that asshole was trying to say that Kerouac was a better writer than Capote? What did Capote say about Kerouac's work being hopelessly derivative?" He thought a moment. "Oh, yeah, that it wasn't writing, it was typing. And yet you two are sitting here and trying to say this has to do with sex. It's sick."

"Hey, there's a thin line between love and hate, dude. I just haven't decided which side you and Cartman really fall on." Stan shrugged. "I don't see how you can blame us for feeling this way; this shit has been going on since before we could walk. Besides, you two could argue about the fucking phone book, let alone this pretentious Beat Generation feud you guys have going on."

Kyle was about to launch into a tirade at being considered pretentious when Kenny intervened, calm as always.

"Dude, this isn't about love or hate or any of that crap. Not really, at least," Kenny chimed in, still looking at Kyle with that sly smile. "It all comes down to the fact that those two need to fuck if we're ever going to have any peace. Plain and simple. Or, rather, Kyle needs to get laid, like yesterday."

"Well, you can fucking forget about that ever happening! At least, not with Cartman." Kyle seethed. He turned to look at Stan, his eyes wide. "Will you say something please?!"

"I'm kind of with Kenny on this one, Kyle. You are seriously wound so tight you're about to snap and fly through a window."

"You can't possibly mean that. I mean, yes, I'm really stressed, I'll admit to that. But fucking Cartman, really?" Kyle looked wounded, and the look he had on his face was different from the one he wore when he regarded Kenny. His face was steeped in betrayal when he rested his eyes on Stan.

"Has anyone ever told you what a little spitfire you are, Kyle?" Kenny asked, clearly very amused by this entire exchange.

Kyle blushed, though he couldn't have said what would possess him to do so; unless of course it was from rage which he was feeling in spades.

"A spitfire, Kenny? What the fuck? You make me sound like I should be in a romance novel or something."

"Oh, yeah. Right on the cover, with a ripped bodice and everything." He thought for a moment. "And I'm pretty sure I'd be the huge guy standing behind you with my shirt wide open and a 'fuck, yeah, I tapped this spitfire' look on my face." He started laughing.

Kyle picked up a book and threw at him, his face completely on fire now. Kenny easily dodged it, still laughing.

"Who would you be, Stan?" Kenny asked. "Maybe it would be one of those really racy stories where the damsel in distress is being drilled by two different guys. What do you think?"

Stan considered this, his hand on his chin.

"Set the scene. Have we been drinking?" He asked, after a moment.

"I'm not a damsel in distress and how the fuck did we even get on this subject in the first place?!" Kyle practically shrieked. He looked around for something else he could throw at Kenny, and at Stan too since he was taking this bullshit seriously. "Besides, you're hardly huge, Kenny. Sorry to disappoint you."

Kenny snorted.

"Right, keep telling yourself that Kyle."

Kyle was being petty, he realized, but he couldn't help it. In that moment, he never would've admitted that Kenny was pretty fucking built and had been since he started lifting at the beginning of high school. He was also constantly working on his car out in his driveway so he had a pretty persistent tan; his hair singed by the sun and turned a burnished gold. In short, he was hot as fuck, and Kyle kind of hated him for it because he'd remained almost exactly the same: thin, almost waif-like, really, and hopelessly pale. The only real change was a new smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, but otherwise he was still the red-headed wraith he'd always been.

It annoyed him so much that he glared at Stan, who had also developed into a hottie from playing endless football games. He was a jock but he didn't let it go to his head; he had always just enjoyed being physical. Stan was kind of careless when it came to how attractive he was, in fact, he didn't even seem to be aware of it, which just served to make him even more good looking. Kyle glanced over at his tight arms and large hands, and with the way this conversation was going he could suddenly imagine those hands on his body.

"What's with that look?" Stan suddenly asked, startling him. Kyle flushed and tilted his chin up, the very picture of a romance novel spitfire even if he didn't realize it.

"None of your business, " he snapped, not caring that he sounded terribly childish. Besides, how was he supposed to explain that he sometimes felt like the mascot of the group? Cute, fussy, woebegone Kyle? It drove him crazy, because it was this image that probably made it so easy for Kenny to tease him the way he did. He felt completely clenched up over this entire exchange, especially since Cartman was the precursor for it, and it infuriated him that he didn't even have to be in the room and he still managed to fuck Kyle over.

"See, that's one of your biggest issues, dude," Kenny said. "You're completely closed off. No wonder you're so uptight all the time."

"Oh, I'm sorry if I'm not foaming at the mouth to talk about how I'm some weird romance heroine for you, Kenny."

Kenny shrugged.

"Fair enough, but can't we at least have an open dialogue about this kind of stuff?"

Kyle rolled his eyes and prayed for strength.

"About what stuff?"

"Sex," Kenny replied, simply. The word hung in the air like it actually had weight, and just the sound of it made Kyle's heart start to beat so fast it felt like it was trying to leap out of his chest. Stan didn't seem too disturbed, of course, and he sat back on his chair, his hands behind his head. He and Kenny both seemed to be waiting for Kyle to say something.

"I, uh, well," he faltered, and suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. In fact, he didn't know what to do with his whole body, which was suddenly buzzing like every nerve ending was on fire. "Jesus Christ, Kenny. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?"

"Well," Kenny replied, and he rolled up his sleeves to reveal sun-darkened forearms laced with tattoos. Involuntarily, Kyle's eyes fell on them and his mouth became extra moist, the sudden wetness surprising him. He gulped. "For starters, what do you want your first time to be like?"

Nervously, Kyle glanced over at Stan to see how he responded to that question, and his heart thudded even harder when he saw that Stan was staring at him, waiting. His blue eyes were extra dark, the pupils fat and full.

Kyle laughed a little, but it was shaky.

"I can't even begin to answer a question like that, Kenny. I mean, I haven't even kissed someone so I really think we're jumping the gun here."

"Oh, is that what's got you all worked up? Well, that's an easy enough fix. Stan?" Kenny turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?" Stan asked after a moment, the question cautious. Really, you never knew what Kenny was going to suggest or do next.

"Aren't you going to help Kyle with his problem?"

Kyle gripped the arms of his chair before he almost keeled over. He couldn't even look at Stan now but he could feel the weight of his gaze on him, burning into the side of his face. How the fuck did they even get to this point?

"I would," Stan replied, softly. "But I don't know if that's what Kyle wants."

"Kyle? Is that what you want?" Kenny asked.

All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room after Kenny asked him that question, and it was a moment before he could even catch his breath. Droplets of sweat were collecting on his forehead and on the small of his back, and he could feel them slipping down his skin. In that moment, even the sensation of having perspiration running down his flesh was somehow erotic, and every moment that Stan and Kenny waited for Kyle's answer seemed to become taut with an unspoken and unbearable tension.

Finally, when he couldn't stand it anymore, Kyle nodded. Yes, he wanted Stan to kiss him. He'd always wanted Stan to kiss him. That was a truth that he took to bed with him every night, and it was waiting for him when he woke up in the morning. He looked up and Stan was watching him, his lips parted slightly and with a flush that had risen in his cheeks. Rising from his place, Stan made his way over to Kyle and cupped his face with his hands, tilting his head back slightly.

Before he could catch a full breath Stan was kissing Kyle, and the tenderness with which he did it almost made him swoon. It felt like every moment in their history had been building up to this point, and who knew it would happen because Kenny started fucking around and teasing Kyle during a sleepover on a random Friday evening? Kyle sighed when he felt Stan's tongue slip inside his mouth, and he was glad that Stan was holding him up because he would've collapsed right there if he could.

Slowly, they broke apart and they were both gasping, like the only oxygen they'd needed had been coming from one another. They gazed into each other's eyes and for the first time Kyle could see the desire in Stan's face that he'd always needed to see, but hadn't really looked for because he was afraid he wouldn't find it. Kenny was watching with a slow, secret smile, his eyes the shade of dark denim jeans, and Kyle couldn't help but pull his focus away from Stan for a moment to linger on Kenny's exposed forearms again, and he bit his lip and succumbed to a new type of haziness.

"There," Kenny murmured. "Is that better? Did it loosen you up?"

Kyle nodded slowly, feeling drugged as his gaze still traveled over Kenny's arms, but now they were making their way up his body, where his jacket was open, and he was wearing a tight white undershirt.

"Kenny," he said, and his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, to someone who suddenly had the ability to be a little daring. "What do you want your first time to be like?"

Kenny snorted.

"Dude, that ship has sailed. Ages ago, actually. And let me tell you, it was pretty disappointing, mainly because I had a pretty set idea and it just didn't pan out."

"Oh?" Kyle asked, and he felt almost like his bones were made of liquid as Stan took his hand and helped him rise from his seat. Stan took his place and pulled Kyle down onto his lap, his arm snaking around his waist to pull him close. It didn't take a lot of coaxing for Kyle to lay his head on Stan's shoulder, but he still peered at Kenny out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, it was a fantasy, actually. I guess it could still play out, but who even knows at this point?"

Stan's hand was slipping under Kyle's shirt now, and he shivered a little.

"What kind of fantasy?" Kyle asked, his voice becoming heavy.

"Well, it's a little hard to explain," Kenny's eyes drifted away from Kyle's and settled on Stan. An unspoken exchange seemed to pass between them but Kyle was so focused on Stan's hand on his bare skin that he didn't try to read into it too much. He felt Stan nod his head a little though, the gesture small.

"Is it okay if I show you what it is?" Kenny asked.

Kyle looked up at Stan though he wasn't sure why. It just felt like what he needed to do before he could answer correctly. Stan just kissed his cheek, his hand drifting down his back where his finger slid under the top of Kyle's boxers. For whatever reason, Kyle felt like he was giving him the answer he needed.

"Sure, I guess," Kyle said, but his voice was fragile.

"You're going to have to trust us, okay?" Kenny asked, and he was standing from his chair. He walked over to where Kyle was nestled on Stan's lap and he reached out a hand and placed it on Kyle's throat gently, sliding it up until he'd pushed his head back a little, exposing his lips. In a moment, Kenny was kissing Kyle's mouth deeply, and he could taste the cigarette smoke on his lips, the flavor being chased by mint and whiskey. Kyle sighed and accepted his tongue completely; Stan's hand moving further inside of his boxers.

Kenny pulled away after a moment, leaving his taste on Kyle's lips, and then he was kneeling in front of him, his hands on the button of Kyle's jeans. Kyle panicked for a moment but Stan held him close, continuing to stroke the skin low on his back until he was calm again. Kenny opened up his jeans and his warm hand settled on the front of Kyle's boxers, and his back arched at the sensation of being touched there by someone other than himself.

"God, you're adorable," Kenny murmured, and he was pulling Kyle's hard cock out of his boxers, stopping to admire it. Kyle was gasping as Kenny's work roughened hand wrapped around him, and the flush in his cheeks made him feel like he was going to burn up with fever. When Kenny's wet mouth closed around him he almost cried out from the profound beauty of the sensation, and he sagged against Stan's chest.

In the silence of the room Kyle could hear Kenny's lips and tongue stroking along his cock, and he felt so sensitive and raw that he didn't know how long he could possibly last. At one point he could feel his cock brushing the back of Kenny's throat, and he writhed against Stan who continued to hold him like he was the most breakable thing on the planet. When Stan's hand reached under his shirt and squeezed one of Kyle's nipples it was just too much, and his body was arching as the most exquisite orgasm he'd ever experienced lanced through him. It took him a moment to come back to himself, and when he did he saw that Kenny's mouth was still on him, and he seemed to be high on the taste of Kyle's come.

What happened next happened in a blur, because Kyle felt so relaxed and completely intoxicated that he didn't even have the wherewithal to fight, not that he wanted to anyway. He was led to Stan's sleeping bag and instructed to get on his hands and knees, and Kenny stroked his hair as Stan eased his jeans and boxers all the way down, exposing him completely. Almost instinctively, he raised himself into the air so Stan could have better access with his fingers as they delved inside of Kyle, and he couldn't even make a sound because the feeling was too much for him to convey through sound. All he could do was whimper and drool as Stan prepared him with slick, warm fingers.

When Kyle was gasping and pleading and already hard again, Stan was sliding into him as softly and easily as he would a warm bath, and Kenny's mouth found Kyle's lips again; and he was tasting the heady mint and whiskey and cigarette cocktail that almost undid him. His mouth salivated when he tasted his come on Kenny's lips too, and he was surprised that it actually turned him on.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, as Stan gripped Kyle's hips and eased into him with more care than he ever could've anticipated. His heart swelled and he nodded as Kenny licked his bottom lip, his tongue slipping inside again. Then he was pulling away and unzipping his jeans, and his huge cock was brushing Kyle's mouth. He drew back for a moment, startled, but when Kenny's fingers wound through his hair and drew him forward he didn't resist, and his lips were suddenly sliding over Kenny, and the skin was like throbbing velvet on his tongue.

Kyle almost became lost in the sensation of being in between Stan and Kenny, their heat filling him up until he thought he was going to break apart, but he managed to keep his mind from falling into oblivion and he stayed in the moment. With every thrust his body was filling up with so much fire that he could feel it in his blood, and was almost sure that he was going to dissolve before they were through, and it was like he was being cradled by the sun. A faint, tiny part of his brain still couldn't comprehend what was happening, and he could only wonder what he looked like from an outsider's perspective; and the thought of being perceived as a dirty little slut made him clench up before he realized it was happening. It was like a part of himself was being awakened in that moment and he had no fucking clue it had even existed.

Before he knew it, Kenny was exploding in his mouth and Kyle tensed up again, his muscles gripping Stan's cock. With a jagged moan, Stan was coming inside of him and now he was pretty sure he was going to burn up, and he almost didn't have the strength to hold himself up. He sunk down into Kenny's lap where he cradled Kyle's head, petting his hair and brushing his eyelids with his thumb.

"Mm, it's okay," he murmured, and he wiped some wayward come from the corner of Kyle's mouth. Kyle could only look up at Kenny, spent and gasping as he felt Stan continue to pulse inside of him.

Afterward, they all lay together with Kyle safe in the middle, Stan and Kenny's arms wrapped around him as he continued to tremble from experiencing his first time.

"See, I told you this would loosen him up," Kenny said, sleepily, and he kissed Kyle's forehead. "Little spitfire."

Kyle pulled away a little, but Stan was there to hold him and run his fingers through Kyle's sweaty hair.

"Wait, what? Did you two plan this or something?"

"Maybe," Stan said, and Kyle could almost feel him smiling against his neck.

Kyle wanted to be angry but he just couldn't. Instead, he snuggled down between them and felt immensely loved; completely wanted.

"I can't believe you guys," he pouted, but it was forced.

"Hey, I told you I had a fantasy," Kenny replied. "You're the one who wanted to know what it was."

"And did it live up to your expectation?" Kyle asked, playing at being annoyed even though he was thrilled. The thought that super hot Kenny with his tattoos and surprisingly gigantic cock had fantasized about him was immensely flattering.

Kenny nuzzled him, breathing deeply of Kyle's sex-drenched scent.

"Oh, yeah, and then some. I know you hate me saying it but you really are like a tragic heroine from a romance novel, with your dramatic red hair and your huge attitude." He drew him a little closer. "Christ, and you're so fucking little and easy to move around; I feel like I could tuck you in my pocket and carry you away." Kenny thought a moment. "You're like a fairy tale princess, and as much as I want to fuck you I want to protect you too. Is that why you love him, Stan? I always wondered."

Stan nodded against Kyle's neck.

"That's why I've always loved him, and the only reason I was willing to share him with you like this was because you get it, Kenny. You actually get it."

"Well, I'm glad I was satisfactory, at least," Kyle said, blushing; even after everything he'd just done. A feeling of intense pleasure was cloaking his chest, his heart, and he wondered how he was going to deal with all of this love. How could he ever return it the way it needed to be? "I still can't believe you two basically planned this though. I mean, how could you have even known that I would jump from having my first kiss to being-" he faltered, not sure what to call what they'd just done.

"Spit roasted ," Kenny said, easily. "Which is oddly fitting, considering."

"Yeah, that," Kyle muttered. "How could you have known I'd kiss Stan and then just be willing to do that all of a sudden?"

"We didn't," Stan said, and his voice was so relaxed that it was almost like a sedative for Kyle. "We just hoped."

"God, you guys are both perverts," Kyle said, even though this fact didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Mm, but you have to agree this is going to make our weekly sleepovers way more interesting. Don't you think?" Kenny smiled, wrapping his arm around Kyle's hips and pressing his fingers into his warm skin. All at once he was lifting Kyle onto his lap to straddle him, and with Stan's help he was being guided onto Kenny's stiff cock, and he threw his head back as he sank onto its length; its girth opening him and making him pant. He was already so sore from having Stan inside of him, but it was a delicious ache that made him drool. His head lolled on his shoulder when he had completely sunk onto Kenny, and his hands were still on Kyle's hips, holding him tightly; possessively.

Stan looped an arm around Kyle's waist and kissed his mouth as Kenny pumped into him, and the friction that built up between the three of them was so delicious that Kyle didn't think he could handle it, because it was just too much. It was all too much. He was gasping and pleading for them to stop, but really he wanted them to keep going forever, and every future Friday night stretched out before him like a delicious dream. Suddenly the idea of being Stan and Kenny's little spitfire didn't sound so bad.