5. Real love stories never have endings
"Ready?" Cartman asks, in a voice that speaks opposite to the cyclone of thoughts, relentlessly pounding in his head right now. He studies his face half heartedly in the mirror, trying to focus all his energy on deciding whether he should shave tonight, instead of dwelling on the possibility that he could very well die today. His scars provide a timeline for how close he's come to death, during this God, sorry, science, damn war. But at least he can take comfort that Kyle's in the same boat. Because Kyle could lose his life today too. And that's Cartman's worst nightmare.
It shouldn't have been a big deal. This is practically Cartman and Kyle's job now. Wake up, get dressed, get your weapons, have your orders barked at you by a testy, war-worn general and out you go. Into enemy territory, deserts and wasteland's which are basically anybody's for the taking, cities that are preserved in ash and dust, perfect for antiques. The two boys like going to these polluted dreamlands, it's easier to relax, appreciate a life that's still fresh in their heads.
Death, violence, dishonesty, corruption was something that most people are born into in this day and age. Where the threat of Armageddon was palpable. Cartman and Kyle guessed that they were too old for their time and in many ways, they were right.
Cartman can't believe he's here again, at eighteen years old. The legendary time child who was welcomed with open arms, it didn't take long for him to settle back in.
"I'm ready." Kyle replies in a soft, breezy way that makes it completely obvious to Cartman how terrified he is right now. Cartman turns to face him and immediately thoughts of blood have turned into thoughts of desire, heat rushes to every electric nerve in his body and his thoughts cling to every inch of that perfect redhead. How could he lose him? How would he survive without seeing Kyle, the boy he's been in love with ever since he could remember?.
They were dressed exactly the same, combat boots, dark brown trousers and jacket, leather gloves, pockets and pouches filled with tiny, yet completely dangerous weapons. It seemed to be the smaller, the deadlier. Except for the massive rifle which was slung across their backs. But even though they were dressed the same, Cartman always thought that Kyle looked better, maybe it was his graceful features, his slender frame, his tousled mess of vibrant scarlet curls, or his lucid Emerald eyes that made him that look that much more beautiful. In Cartman's opinion, anyway.
"Then let's go" Cartman calmly says, with a half smirk that makes coldness quiver in Kyle's spine. Kyle thought he'd be used to this situation by now, but it never failed to terrify him and shake him to his very core. He'd rather lose himself in the heat of war than have a nervous breakdown and meet the wrong end of a blade, by his own shaking hand. Which he feared would be inevitable.
Luckily for Kyle he had Cartman, who he relied on heavily. He never wanted to leave his side, because he trusted him and felt safe with him. And he never thought he would say that about Eric Cartman, the boy who once made his life misery, the boy who, for twelve years, possessed him and unnerved him in the sickest way imaginable. But things have changed and Cartman was now the only friend he had, his savior, a hellish, bittersweet addiction that he constantly craved, hit after glorious hit.
They weren't soldiers, they were merely rogue members of the United Atheist Alliance who did the dirty work of the generals and higher ups. Two teenagers who were hastily trained and given highly advanced futristic weapons that they had never encountered before. But apparently, they did the job well.
The two boys left their room and made the usual trip to the UAA headquarters to be given their mission specifics. Holding hands as they walked, clasping each other tightly, just so they could remember what they felt like under a leather touch.
For this might be their last day to ever hold each other. Walking into death, once again.
~x~
1. It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves
On the night of the boys arrival, there was celebration. Every citizen in the UAA controlled city delighted in excited whispers and elated rumors that reached fever pitch. Hoards of crowds tried to sneak a peek at the legend that was the Time Child, returning to bring an end to the conflict. Cartman never realized how much of an impact he had, how much he had achieved as a selfish, sociopathic nine year old fighting a war he couldn't understand, all those years ago. But now he was a man, a hero, a warrior who the enemies had come to fear and loathe and who the citizens had come to admire and speculate about. He had been considered a myth in some parts, but here he was, in the flesh.
Kyle was terrified, beyond confused and in amongst the rejoicing and celebrating, couldn't find an answer to why he was here in the first place. But he was in awe of the whole situation, how much he was supposedly needed (but he was only valuable if he was by Cartman's side, which pissed him off slightly). He also doubted that Cartman needed the ego boost of being held in such high, heroic regard.
At midnight, the party still hadn't simmered down and Cartman was curious to see if anything else had changed around here, besides the fact that the war had escalated further than he could ever have imagined. There was a clear balance between the people who held power and were making the decisions to drop bombs here, invade here, wipe out this... And the people who were caught up in the suffocating, impoverished fumes of battle. But maybe it had always been like this, except he was too young and too close minded to realize such things. All he knew was, these were threatening times where trust had been obliterated.
He walked down the empty corriders, with their slick, pristine walls and highly reflective floors and ceilings. Probing, ivory lights spat at you as you walked, flickering every so often under the strain of isolation. Power, food and water was becoming a luxury even for the people in control, sitting high up in their watch tower. Cartman smiled sadly, still reeling from the thought of being here again.
"T.C!" A vaguely familiar voice called excitedly behind him. He rolled his eyes at how much he's been called that tonight and how it's grating on him slightly, still he turned around.
"Look at you!" The woman gasped, in a slightly maternal manner, as she stood back and looked at Cartman with adoring eyes. Cartman studied her, tried to figure her out. She was wearing a short metallic dress, her slim figure practically poured into the material and matching boots, her hair fell in soft, thick chestnut waves and her almond shaped, lime eyes were framed prettily by silver, shimmering eyeliner. She looked like she was in her late thirties. But he couldn't quite conjure a memory of her.
"I can't believe how much you've changed! You've got so much taller and thinner" She chuckled, poking Cartman, while he laughed under his breath and blushed. "You're a man now! How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?... And to think I was by your side when you were just a short-tempered little nine year old!"
The smile faded from the woman's face when she said quietly "You don't remember me, do you?"
"No." Cartman replied, swallowing before awkwardly putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging. "Sorry..."
"I'm Iris. I was stationed here with you..." She smiled. Then it clicked. She was much younger then, Cartman remembered thinking about how pretty she was. How he had sadly started to accept the fact that she could be his surrogate mother.
"Oh my God! Yeah, yeah, I remember!"
Iris blushed, letting her stare linger before hugging Cartman and murmuring into his shoulder "Eric, it's been so long"
"Yeah" Cartman sighed, relieved when she finally pulled away. "It has..." he felt pained when he said that, he didn't know why and he tried to push the emotion away.
"So, I see you have a friend with you." Iris laughs, putting her hands on her hips.
Cartman nods, relaxing a little before saying "Kahl."
Iris smirked wickedly. She knew about Kyle. Cartman had talked about him and mentioned him constantly when he first came here. And by the way Cartman lit up and smiled when he mentioned him, Iris knew that his infatuation and obsession with that boy hadn't fizzled out yet.
"Is he the one who-" Iris begins, before Cartman quickly cuts her off.
"Yeah, he's the one."
"So... Do you still have those... Feelings?... For him?" Iris says cautiously but in a joking manner, revelling in Cartman's embarrassment.
"I'm crazy about him." Cartman grins, biting his lip when his mind becomes hazy with thoughts of Kyle.
"Good. Hang onto that. It's easy to forget about positive, cherished things in a time like this, where things are so unsure and so bleak. You understand, right?" Iris asks, furrowing her eyebrows and letting her voice tilt sadly, resting her hand softly on Cartman's shoulder.
"Yeah. I understand." Cartman replies dryly, feeling nervous and uneasy about this whole mess for the first time.
Iris smiles weakly before walking away and Cartman can't help but watch. Feeling lonely, feeling scared, but with the knowledge that things will get hard and complicated and that if he loses Kyle, that would be the end. He needs him now more than ever, whether Kyle likes it or not, they have to stick together.
"Oh, and T.C? It's great to have you back. I know you'll change things for the better." Iris calls out to him, before stepping into the party and leaving Cartman deserted in the eerily quiet corridor.
I can only hope Cartman thinks, as he continues to get lost in this place all over again.
~x~
16. Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation
"Kahl" Cartman began, the word made the redhead shudder, it sizzled and crackled in the small space of electric air in between the two boys. Kyle dug his fingers into Cartman's shoulders, so willingly vulnerable underneath the brunette, their bodies pressed together in the small single bed. Sharing every hot, hesitant breath, every cry and whimper, every bead of sweat that rolled over their writhing, intertwined bodies. They weren't entangled yet, but they soon would be. They could feel their hearts hammer frantically, feel each other shivering. Not long ago they had felt each other hardening, uncomfortable but undeniably good at the same time.
Cartman swallowed nervously, before continuing "You don't know how long I've waited-" he stopped again, his mouth dry, his vision hazy, he couldn't finish. What would be the point? They'd soon be speaking through their bodies, so there was no need for words. He had gently peeled Kyle's boxers away from his damp skin, sliding down the redhead's legs before landing silently on the floor, with no protest whatsoever. Maybe this was meant to be.
Kyle quivered and let the slightest of wicked smiles spread across his face when he realized how exposed he was. He was embarassed by his heat, his sweat, the burning lust and desire that permeated through his body whenever Cartman so much as spoke to him, touched him, looked at him.
He tangled his fingers through Cartman's damp, chestnut hair as the brunette fumbled with his fly, the zipper's groan muffled. Kyle spread his legs wider, feeling the brunette's throbbing erection brush against his bare thigh, moist with sweat.
Kyle didn't need Cartman to finish his sentence, he knew how Cartman felt, how long he had wanted this. It surprised Kyle that he wanted this himself, how this felt so right. Yet so wrong.
"This might hurt for a second..." Cartman mumbled, blushing slightly. He had dreamt about this moment so many times and he felt like his thoughts, his secrets were coming undone, all for Kyle to see.
"I don't care" Kyle gasped, crushing his body against Cartman's, licking Cartman's mouth open with his eager tongue. "Make me bleed..." he growled softly before whispering gently in the humid space between the fruit of their lips. "T.C."
Cartman moaned at how Kyle's hushed voice made his childhood nickname sizzle with searing ecstasy. He loved it. The two boys smirked, bruising their lips with a ferocious, animalistic kiss.
They looked at each other. A bittersweet Emerald and honeyed stare. Before Cartman slid roughly into Kyle, groaning as his aching member was swallowed by Kyle's intoxicating heat. Kyle's lusty, pained cry muffled against Cartman's sweet lips, a kiss that he constantly craved.
~x~
13. He's not a killer, he just wins... Thoroughly
"I'll let you deal with the next guy, okay?" Cartman whispered through gritted teeth, adrenaline still pulling at any remains of morality inside him, like vultures. Blood still clung to his clothes in the humidity, he could still taste and feel the sweat from the effort, the ruthlessness of his kill. Cartman had to give it to his opponent, he didn't go down easily. His corpse was stripped of anything "valuable" this included money, weapons, crystals and luxurious goods that would sell for a very high price... But the real jackpot was if they happened to come across an information crystal.
Kyle nodded, the taste of vomit lingering horribly in his mouth. His eyes transfixed on the quickly rotting body that the sun, the scavengers were sure to devour. If there any signs of life out here. Except for the soldiers, rogue, predatory men with a killing streak. Kyle wrinkled his nose at the fact that he was one of them now. And that he could "deal" with the next guy.
He wasn't like Cartman, the Time Child that everyone feared and admired. Kyle had never killed before, though the general didn't know that. Cartman always lied and said Kyle had killed his fair share, after all it was the only way Kyle was ever going to fit in and earn his keep. But he had admitted to Cartman that he felt more and more pressure of having to kill someday. And Cartman said that it was just one of those things that you have to grit your teeth, stand tall and just, well, do.
It was easy for Cartman to say that though, he was a natural at this kind of thing. Cartman knew more about the environment they were living in, the type of situations they were dealing with. He knew every danger, every possible outcome of every possible strategy. He knew every place chartered on the map. He could perform a kill effortlessly, with the right amount of aggression, ruthlessness and bloodthirsty, sadistic passion in record time with his eyes closed.
They had received their instructions on how to kill "right" on their first day here. It was delivered by an ex-soldier who had given into sinful temptations and was tired of this war, but his speech was impassioned and his eyes gleamed with vivacious memories of battle.
"Now, when you spot your enemy, whether you're patrolling a military controlled city, a wasteland or a deserted, antique city, speed is very important. But speed doesn't come from exercise or natural ability. Not in this case anyway. No boys, speed comes from your ability to throw caution to the wind, push away your instincts or any morsel of morality that's left inside you. You also need the ability to think fast enough and to know if this guy is worth your bullet or the end of your dagger. Morality is just as dangerous and inconvenient as a bullet being lodged into your flesh, so I suggest you abandon the entire concept of common decency right away. Because if you want to survive, then the only person you should be concerned with is yourself. If you spot your enemy in a place where there is nowhere for either of you to hide, but plenty of space for you to run, do not under any circumstances let yourself be chased. And if you're unfortunate enough to have that happen to you, I would just stop right where you are and wait for your opponent like a man. If he's a little more sadistic and barbaric, like most soldiers become these days, he won't shoot you from a distance. He'll punch you in the back of your head and expect you to fight, which basically means he's giving you a chance to kill him before he can kill you. This is both a blessing and a curse, because there's a 50/50 chance of you surviving. But if you're good at what you do and are cocky enough to realize it then you're going to have the advantage. Because while mortality is an affliction, arrogance is like having an extra rifle at your disposal. But the enemy fights dirty. So you have to fight dirty. If that means resorting to the cruelest way of killing a man, then by all means do it. I remember once having to stamp on another man's face fifty times, while he choked on his own saliva, vomit and blood and spat out his last words. It didn't feel good, but being stabbed in the chest would've felt a whole lot worse. More often than not, you will find yourself pinning a man down and stabbing him, shooting him or beating him to death, even if it requires two of you to take someone down, then do it. I encourage you to work as a team. If you need to pull a knife out to finish a guy off then make sure you do it quick, make sure you distract him enough that he doesn't realize you're doing it. The best way to do this is by choking him with one hand while you reach for your knife with the other, or one of you pin the guy down while the other one concentrates on killing. Now, I suggest you stab them in a place where death will be instant, like the jugular. You see, bullets are quicker, more efficient, but with a knife there's more satisfaction, more reward. At least I think so. And make sure you go to work on that blade, push it in as far as you can go. Remember this... You can only have one mindset when you kill someone. And that is... Be. Ruthless. Be predatory, be sadistic, be alert, be cruel and only focus on what you're doing at that precise moment. And by doing that, you get to escape death and become a vital part of destroying our enemies."
They had been walking for twenty minutes when Kyle saw him. A lone, alert figure patrolling the horizon, kicking the dust and letting it dance around his feet, clutching a gold and platinum revolver tightly to his chest. It hit the dominant sun perfectly, catching Kyle's attention and the redhead heeded to it like a magpie.
"Cartman! Look!" Kyle gasped, clutching Cartman's shoulder and daring to let his boots crunch against the debris beneath him.
"He's all yours" Cartman smirks, turning to Kyle, who was trembling, the three words ringing menacingly through his emptied, numbed head.
"Really?" Kyle asks, his voice crackling at the back of his dry throat.
"Yes" Cartman insisted, before scanning the lone soldier again. He hadn't figured them out yet, but he would soon, Kyle had to do this now. "Go!" Cartman hissed, shoving Kyle before the redhead started to stride up to the enemy.
Cartman prayed he would get this right. That Kyle would remember exactly what he had to do. That he wouldn't show fear. If there was a second where Cartman thought Kyle could be in danger, he would instantly rush in and help him out. He may have encouraged Kyle to kill, but he would never want Kyle to be one of the many bodies forgotten in the sand.
Kyle's instinct immediately told him to punch the guy in the back of the head. So he did, with all the strength he could muster and pinpointing a weak nerve in the man's neck. Sure enough, the soldier faltered, his gun dropping to the floor and skidding in the sand, winking at the sun. Kyle's knuckles cracked against the skull and made a sickening noise stir beneath the leather, making Kyle hiss through his gritted teeth. Kyle didn't enjoy it, he hated it, he tried desperately to find that barbaric, animalistic killing streak inside him that he envied in Cartman. Watching the brunette kill was terrifyingly exhilirating for Kyle, he was overwhelmed by the fear Cartman commanded and the intensity of every life draining second.
Kyle knew he would come across that streak eventually, so he resorted to cunning, impulsive skill to draw the hunter, the predator out in him. He figured his opponent must have hit his face pretty hard against the ground, a small puddle of crimson blood started to trickle in amongst the dusty grooves of the earth and the man's lungs heaved with the effort of groaning in nauseating pain. Kyle grabbed the man's hair, straddling him and forcing all of his weight on him and began to smash the man's face into the ground. Every disgusting, blood-curdling split of cartilage and snap of bone, every choked, gagged scream and plea to stop, every splatter of blood made tears sting Kyle's eyes, made his stomach heavy with the urge to vomit. But he tried to block it out and after a while the noises, the sights even the smell of hot, sticky blood became meaningless and blurred and he found himself locking his jaw, tightening his grip and crying with effort. Focusing not on the fact that he's killing a person but by how hard he can smash the man's face against the ground.
All the while, Cartman had caught up to him and was watching from a slight distance. He watched Kyle shocked, disbelieving and impressed. He had never seen Kyle go this crazy, lose control and succumb to that bloodthirsty need that had been growing ever since he got that first taste of second hand blood. Watching Cartman kill must have excited him in some way, whet his appetite for violence. But it disturbed Cartman slightly, his emotions conflicting and tearing him apart as he watched Kyle assert his power over someone and take their life away. He tried to imagine how Kyle was feeling right now, but he just couldn't, he felt so distant. Like someone he didn't know.
Yet sadness and arousal tugged at the core in his chest. Whoever this other side of Kyle was, he was secretly enjoying watching him. The way the need to kill ripped him apart with bloodlust, making him groan and shout, how his strong, slender form loomed over the weakening body below him and controlled him with the knowledge that he had complete power. Seeing Kyle fight, seeing Kyle be so aggressive set Cartman's heart racing, made him lick his lips and tremble at the vivid thoughts of Kyle taking control of him and being rough and greedy with his aching, depraved demands.
Doom and heavy realization cooled Kyle in the immense fever of battle, that the body underneath him had given up fighting, writhing, squirming in pain. It could only do so much as twitch now. Even the screams and shouts had gone, they had faded long ago, but Kyle wasn't listening. This man was barely alive, Kyle pressed two fingers to the man's sweaty, lukewarm neck. His pulse was low. Too low, Kyle knew that. He heaved and spat out the clear, potent bile onto the sand when he looked at his fingers and realized they were red. He needed to end this now. He needed to forget about all of this. Never again, never again, never again. Silently, biting his lip and letting quiet, acidic tears run carelessly down his face, splashing against the man's jacket, Kyle pulled his own revolver out of it's holster. The UAA emblem on the leather a gleaming, bitter joke in the lonely wasteland.
Kyle pressed the barrel to the back of the man's head, nestling between damp locks of hair. Cartman waited with bated breath, a different kind of heat tingling, coursing through his body at Kyle's solemn, still display. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut as he fired two bullets. The force of the shots made him wince, their definitive, eerie noises rang through the emptiness. Red exploded, spraying Kyle's face and clothes. Kyle didn't care, he couldn't feel the damn stuff. The blood was stagnant , rusty, not too disgusting, like he thought it would be.
He was sure. The man was dead.
Kyle heard Cartman walk up to him, offering him the silence he needed right now. Kyle pulled away, leaving the man to rest, he didn't want to touch him.
"Did I just?" Kyle breathlessly asks, feeling like he may pass out, his face pale, his eyes hollowed out by the image of the lifeless body in front of him. His vision began to cloud with sore tears. Blood dries quickly out here, in the long stretch of golden fields. Ruby splinters cling to Kyle's clothes and his face.
"Yeah" Cartman smiles weakly, not taking his eyes off of Kyle. This wasn't fair to him, Kyle shouldn't have to do this, his morals and conscience shouldn't have to be rocked and shattered by this corruption. Cartman vows to himself that he'll never let this happen, Kyle will never have to kill again. This world, this future, is made up of people like Cartman. People who have captured their emotions and can use them flippantly, people who are numbed by evil and cruelty, who have a deeper, more disturbing understanding of such things.
Kyle knows the routine, he knows that now he's supposed to take whatever he wants from that body. But he can't. He's already done something unspeakably despicable, what else could he ask for? What could he possibly want to make him loathe himself even more?
"I'm not taking any of his stuff." Kyle whispers, still shaking from the shock.
"Why?" Cartman asks.
"Because I don't think I should, okay?! Haven't I fucking done enough to him?" Kyle shouts, grabbing his hair and kicking the ground angrily.
"Okay, okay" Cartman sighs, grabbing Kyle's shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. He wants to kiss him. Desperately. He needed to taste those gorgeous lips, the craving had been gnawing at him under the sultry sun. He gently cups Kyle's face and brings their lips together. Kyle squirms and freezes, letting Cartman invade his mouth, letting his tongue entangle with his own. He likes it but he's too fucked up to tease Cartman back, press his lips harder, to let himself enjoy this. The way Cartman lets his fingers run gently through Kyle's curls, the way his kisses sizzle heavily with hunger, all of it makes Kyle know how much Cartman is enjoying this right now. And it makes Kyle feel a little better, with his own shaking hand he softly grips Cartman's wrist and guides his hand to touch him anywhere. Cartman smirks, groaning and using his tongue in a way that makes Kyle shudder and moan lowly in the back of his throat, the brunette pining for the earthy, bittersweet taste of Kyle. Cartman pulls away, wiping his mouth and he blushes by how turned on he's getting.
"I'll tell you what" Cartman begins, looking at the body, inspecting Kyle's handy work "We'll just forget about this guy. I doubt he has anything that would be of use, I don't think you wanna be reminded of him everyday, right? And if you had to take his gun home or any of his crystals then you would have to deal with it, wouldn't you?... You know, the memory and everything. It's not fucking worth it."
A quivering, soft smile appears on Kyle's face before he mutters "Thank you"
"Come on" Cartman whispers, grabbing Kyle's limp hand and leading him away from the nightmare, putting him out of his misery. "Let's go."
~x~
18. Love- bittersweet, irrepressible- loosens my limbs and I tremble
"What do you think they want to speak to us about?" Kyle asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. He stares at the General's door for quite some time, allowing the anxiety to make his stomach twist, before snapping his head away from the door and instead dropping his gaze to his still muddy boots.
"Dunno" Cartman shrugs, leaning against the opposite wall and looking out of the tall, consuming glass window. The city barely clung to life, it daren't stop moving, thriving or else it would fold in on itself and disappear entirely, just another footnote, landmark, memory. The noises of people and traffic were like steady, scraping breaths, the thick beep of a heart monitor. Reminding itself that it was still alive. One day down and we don't know how many, to go. "Whatever it is, it's not a big deal..."
Kyle rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently, before mindlessly bringing his fingers to his mouth and chewing on his nails. How could he say that? Not a big deal? He hated how Cartman never worried about this kind of stuff, how he acted like this was a completely normal situation for them to be in... He couldn't possibly like this place? This lifestyle? Kyle didn't know and he didn't ever want to find out.
Cartman looked at Kyle and thought about how much he loves seeing Kyle all cute and flustered. How his cheeks are tinged, flushed with blossom, how his hands move swiftly and gracefully.
"Try not to get too hung up on this, okay?" Cartman teases, stepping away from the wall so he could be closer to Kyle.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle snaps defensively, he hated how Cartman could be so arrogant around him sometimes. But Kyle hated even more how Cartman's attitude excited him slightly, made a fulfilling coldness course through him and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"It means that you get worked up over the tiniest things." Cartman begins, as Kyle rolls his eyes and turns away from him. Cartman smirks, squeezing Kyle's hips and wrapping his arms around Kyle's waist. "I've known you for years Kahl, you think too much, you worry, you're neurotic and one day you'll end up driving yourself crazy. You know I'm right."
Kyle giggles, biting his lip and moaning at the feeling of Cartman's teasing voice warming the nape of his neck. "Shut up, dude." Kyle sighs, as Cartman's hold on him tightens, he arches into the other boy's embrace. Just the feeling of Kyle's body pressing itself against Cartman's, makes the brunette smile wickedly.
"So stubborn" Cartman whispered hungrily into the goosebumps on Kyle's flesh. The sheer tone of his voice making Kyle's chest tight with lusty, hesitant breaths. He hated how Cartman got him so worked up and made him come so deliciously undone. But he loved this dance, this game that they constantly played. One slight touch, one unbreakable stare, one softly spoken word could send each other wild. Exciting, dangerous electricity. Perfection.
"Yeah, but you fucking love it" Kyle gasps hotly, dipping his head back and he trembles at the feeling of Cartman's lips brushing against the untouched skin on his neck. Kyle was right, Cartman did love it. He loved everything about Kyle. He loved it when Kyle teased him, when he promised himself to Cartman silently, begging him to do whatever he wanted. Kyle was coaxing Cartman into fervent want, he needed Kyle so badly, to have him right here, it was killing him. He wanted Kyle to move against him, to sigh and scream for him, to feel deep inside him, to satisfy this urge.
"Fuck yes. Want me to show you how much?" Cartman groans, turning Kyle around and effortlessly pinning him against the wall. Kyle gasps in surprise, but quickly succumbs to Cartman's strength and to his kisses.
The boys begin to kiss desperately, moaning and whimpering helplessly as they compete with their tongues. Cartman trails his hands greedily over Kyle's chest, Kyle wincing and moaning at the bruises, at the feeling of strong hands and rough material rubbing against his skin. Cartman grabs Kyle's wrists and holds them against the wall as the kisses turn violent and angry, struggling and squirming in each other's grips, anger and affection twisting between them, making them pant and cry softly. They struggle and scrape for breath as their persistent and relentless tongues refuse to relinquish control of another, to admit defeat, exploring, invading deeper.
Neither of them can speak or beg, at least for now. Their faces flushed, passionate colour spreading under their skin, making them tremble.
"Stop..." Kyle whines desperately, growling uncontrollably, not knowing why and as soon as Cartman gives him an inch of freedom, Kyle throws it right back. They stumble away from the wall and drunk on smug, angry power Kyle smashes their lips together, with a muffled moan of passion and a bitter hiss of resentment and humiliation. Kyle digs his fingers deep into Cartman's hair, gripping his face tightly, determined to make him hurt, sadism rocking his insides. Their faces are burning, hot with blood. Cartman claws wildly into Kyle's back, determined to never let him go, for this to never stop, praying, wishing that they could tear each other apart beautifully like this every day. Renew this passion and make it rise like a phoenix from a tantilizing, intoxicating inferno.
They pine for each other's taste, warmth, the smoldering finesse of each other's tongues, lips, mouths. Sweat drapes itself silently over the both of them, weighing them down excruciatingly, their groins burning with desire, arousal swelling, begging, fighting beneath their quickly tightening jeans. Never wanting each other so badly in all their life. It hurts them, kills them.
They began to tug at each other's hair, drag their fingers hard and deep, grabbing each other wildly and obsessively as their determined hands trail south. They stumble, thrash and shove each other, through their intertwined tongues. Cartman slammed Kyle against the wall again, crushing their groins together, both of them dying to soak up more of this delightful friction, this tangible, electric pleasure eating at them violently. Moaning and growling through their feverish, tender kiss.
Cartman whispered huskily into Kyle's gorgeous, flushed lips. "You put up one hell of a fight there, Jewboy" Sinking his teeth into the delicious swell of Kyle's bottom lip, making the redhead whine, setting Kyle alight.
"Well" Kyle breathlessly panted, pressing his lips to Cartman's and kissing him in a longing, teasing way that made the brunette writhe and shudder "I've learnt from the best" Kyle smirked.
Cartman snickered and growled before capturing Kyle's lips again, running his tongue along the backs of Kyle's teeth, making Kyle purr and arch into his embrace.
Iris stepped out of the General's office and became witness to Cartman and Kyle's tangled, passionate display. She watched with envy, spitefully jealous of their youth and their naive, romantic awakenings and their vigorous lust. Still, her heart softened and she couldn't help but smile warmly at the pair.
She cleared her throat, ending the kiss abruptly. The two boys looked at her, refusing to let go of each other, they couldn't lose this just yet. They had to take in every last drop. The only thing connecting their lips now was a thin trail of saliva, which they wiped away hastily.
"Boys, though it's heartwarming to see some affection in these cruel times, try and save this kind of behavior for the privacy of your room. You need to be professional." Iris says firmly, a smirk forming at the corners of her mouth.
Cartman and Kyle nod, trying to contain their wicked, satisfied smirks of delirium. Reeling from that exhilirating experience.
"We'll see you now." Iris says softly, not waiting for the boys as she walks back into the general's office.
Cartman and Kyle break away from their embrace, their mouths and jaws aching from the severity of their kisses. Their lips swollen, their faces flushed, their hearts dangerously loud and racing and they both struggle for breath. Carnal desire aches like a hungry, throbbing pit in their jeans, memories still vivid and fresh refuse to stop flashing temptingly in their minds. They can taste each other, intoxicating, their lips still wet.
Never feeling so uncomfortably turned on and flustered, yet so alive and richly satisfied.
They tried their best to cool down before they spoke to the general, even though it was hard to keep their eyes and hands off each other.
They shared one last chaste, hungry kiss before they stepped inside. Tenderness and affection strummed through their ragged heartbeats. Leaving only one thought on their mind.
Their imaginations running wild every time they stole a glance of one and other.
~x~
24. May Heaven exist, even if my place is Hell.
Cartman woke up before Kyle, this usually never happens, Kyle is usually the one who wakes up early, complaining about Cartman's laziness and how they always end up running late. This is usually met by an amused, slightly exasperated smirk from Cartman, who sighs and rolls his eyes before shutting Kyle up with a soft kiss. Leaving Kyle light headed and with a niggling craving that he has to carry around for the rest of the day. But today was different.
Cartman woke up in Kyle's confined, single bed, the smell of sex still lingered in the air from their heated night. Clothes were strewn carelessly on the floor, the sheets and pillows tangled and messy and the embers of arousal stirred inside him delightfully. It wasn't the first time they had slept together, where slithers of shame were easily shaken off and replaced by a deeper, slower burning lust, accelerating at it's own accord as the night went on. But every time they lay together, every time they were awoken from another passionate, guilty night in each other's arms, it still managed to feel wonderfully surreal. Like a dream, moments of blind happiness before they were reminded of the destruction that was always present outside their window.
Cartman stared over at Kyle, still sleeping peacefully, the sun casting him in a heavenly glow, highlighting every arch of his lithe body perfectly. Their shared lovebites acted as reminders to the places they had claimed, conquered on each other, where teeth and lips clashed against quivering skin and breathy, delirious cries. Kyle's sweet, heavy release had dried on his stomach, the sheet just about covering his slender hips. Kyle looked perfect, simply beautiful, the one last flicker of hope Cartman had in this world. And he was terrified that flicker would soon tremble and vanish forever.
He ran his finger along Kyle's collarbone, before kissing Kyle's neck gently, the redhead stirring and grumbling before smiling dreamily. The memory of last night was like a gentle, lilting melody that welcomed him into the morning.
"Good morning." Kyle sighed happily.
"Morning" Cartman replied, snickering and kissing behind the shell of Kyle's ear.
"How long until we have to go?" Kyle asked, yawning slightly, placing his arm lazily across Cartman's chest.
Cartman glanced at the clock. It was an old antique that him and Kyle had found in a landfill of a forgotten town. The clock was so pretty, preserved by immortal soil, that they couldn't just leave it there. Still, it looked out of place in their modern room, it was becoming somewhat of an eyesore. It's chime was more like an exasperated groan, the hands were worn and fragile, creaking every so often and the Roman numerals were slowly fading and slipping into ancient history.
"We have some time" Cartman replied, nestling into Kyle's embrace.
Both of them longing for days where they could sleep in. A day where they could forget about the state of the world, the madness of it all. Wishing for never ending, peaceful days alone with each other.
~x~
3. Unless we love and are loved, each of us is alone, each of us is deeply lonely.
The nights were hot, humid and the city was a paranoid, flustered insomniac. The boys found it hard to sleep. The first couple of weeks were the hardest, even through the exhaustion of their missions, they'd come home and be plagued by carnivorous thoughts that chased them into slumber. They tossed, turned, grumbled and sighed at the dead, anxious lead in their stomachs, the scent of dirt and blood lingering after they had showered. They could still smell it in their hair, their fingers, sometimes they wondered if it was all just a vivid memory. They tried to ignore and tear a hole through their homesick hearts, which constantly wept and pined for their small town, the past.
They tried to give themselves a break. When they were surrounded by so much despair, violence and confusion, who could possibly ever get a good night sleep?
Kyle shook out one last tear onto his stained pillow, his lashes wet and his vision blurry. He prayed that Cartman was sleeping, which was unlikely, or that he was upset himself and understood that it was okay to cry in situations like this.
Kyle turned his pillow over to the colder, drier side but noticed, in the dark, where only small splinters of light scattered their room, Cartman sitting on the edge of his own bed, looking up at the remains of stars and watching the city go into overdrive.
"Cartman!" Kyle hissed, but still Cartman ignored him. Typical.
Kyle rolled his eyes and whispered sharply "Cartman!"
"Oh, hi" Cartman sighed, half-asleep.
"What are you doing?!" Kyle asked, becoming extremely agitated in his sleep deprived state.
"Nothing" Cartman shrugs, yawning before looking out of the window again. "Just looking. I couldn't sleep..."
Kyle breathed out, exasperated, rubbing his eyes before wondering why the hell it mattered what Cartman was doing. In the dark, Cartman took the advantage of studying Kyle's soft silhouette and smirked to himself. Kyle hadn't been talking a lot since they came here. He was being more hostile than ever. Cartman would rather Kyle fire a plethora of vile insults at him and unleash his anger, which Cartman loved, than for Kyle to act so cold and not speak to him at all. He was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that it hurt him.
Today however, Cartman had gotten the tiniest drop of Kyle's intimacy. When they were patrolling a UAA invaded city, 5 miles out of their own, a car bomb went off in the street the two boys were walking through. Amidst the panicked screams, the smell of smoke and the lucid miasma of panic, Kyle grabbed Cartman's wrist and squeezed it tightly, looking for help and security. Just the thought of Kyle's soft, alabaster fingertips grazing his pulse, thrilled Cartman in a way that he had never felt before. Kyle blushed and pulled away, biting his lip and daring to look at Cartman for the next hour. But it was worth it.
"Yeah, well" Kyle sighed, heaving himself out of bed and grimacing in pain at the aches of his still fresh scars "I can't sleep either."
He made his way over to Cartman's bed and he immediately made room. Cartman's heart rate accelerated and he blushed when he felt Kyle's heat next to him and the dip of the mattress. They were the perfect kind of close, not so far that Kyle just feels disconnected to Cartman, tempting him, teasing him, making his hunger for him even more insatiable. But not so close that Cartman would feel uncomfortably exhilirated, with no idea how to behave.
Cartman looks over at Kyle, his exhausted, stunning Emerald eyes observing the city, a weak, sad smile on his face. Kyle was miserable here, even though he had Cartman, he still felt lonely. Cartman knew that if Kyle started to trust him, confide in him and befriend him then things wouldn't be so bad. Cartman couldn't let himself think about the possibility of Kyle having feelings for him, wanting him, loving him, craving him and longing for each others touches after a hard, draining day. He would drive himself crazy if he ever thought about that. Though more often than not, he would let his guard down and shamelessly yearn for Kyle's smoldering touch.
After a long pause, Kyle finally speaks in a broken, numb voice. "It's beautiful, huh?"
"Yeah" Cartman smirks shyly to himself, with only one thought on his mind. "It is."
It was true, the city was beautiful. Painfully beautiful, bursting with golden, caramel and honey hues that made you crave jewels, extravagance. The roads and buildings glistened with a gilded allure. Lights and cars hummed by, flitting in and out of honeycomb streets like insects dripping with the purest nectar. The gold sky scrapers shook hands with the diamonds that dared to break out of the oily, turbulent backdrop of the night. It was all like a jewelry box, a playground for the people in control, just waiting to be destroyed. The thriving, power hungry metropolis that was constantly moving and changing. Though not too far away were dead and forgotten towns, with people struggling to survive, who were petrified of being frozen in time forever. Nothing but shadows in the wasteland. The thought of those muffled, pained cities made the two boys wince.
"I don't want to stay here forever, though." Kyle says, his voice trembiling with tears and he struggles to swallow them in his dry throat.
"Well you won't have to" Cartman mumbles.
"Yeah" Kyle sighs, before chuckling meanly under his breath and spitting out "I'll probably get killed before I'm thirty."
"Don't say that" Cartman whispers, tightening his fists and willing the horrible, intrusive thoughts of death to go away.
"Why?" Kyle shrugs "It's true."
"Well, not really..." Cartman begins, though he knows it's no point arguing against the truth. Sadly, Kyle was right.
"What do you mean?!" Not really?!" Kyle shouts, standing up and terrifying himself, pacing in front of the wonderful view "It's a fucking inevitability that we're going to die sooner rather than later! We've been here for almost a month now, Cartman! And how many people have we seen get shot or attacked with a knife or just senselessly beaten to death, huh? How many people have we seen when we're walking through those torn, miserable cities who are screaming in unimaginable pain because their city has been bombed? Fuck, today we saw a line of dead, starving, rotten bodies of children! Fucking children Cartman! And I'll tell you something, don't think this war and this tragedy isn't going to hit us because we're somehow fucking special! The universe and fate doesn't give two shits about that! This war doesn't care about taking our lives away and soon enough one of us is going to be left on our own, because the other one has-"
Kyle stops and slumps against the wall, choking on gasping, consuming tears, his body hurting with fear, paranoia and grief. Cartman sat still and stoic through Kyle's speech, emotions building up inside him but he refused to acknowledge them, feel them. His heart began to break, poison and resentment for this place leaking out and he got up and walked hesitantly over to Kyle.
"Kahl" Cartman whimpered sadly, kneeling down next to him and touching his shoulder.
"No" Kyle weakly protested, his voice a cracked, dry whisper. "No, leave me alone." his limp, defeated pleads made a nagging, painful sense of despair ignite in Cartman.
He ignored Kyle's request because he knew what was best for him right now, instead, he allowed Kyle into a gentle, light embrace. Kyle nervously fell into Cartman's hold, concentrating on the heartbeat that was soothing him in his ear, the comforting warmth that Kyle started to develop an appetite for.
It was unfamiliar, scary, not quite right. But still perfect and what he needed. And would need for as long as they were stuck here.
"I don't want to stay here either." Cartman admitted, not afraid to brush his lips against Kyle's beautiful, scarlet curls.
"You don't?" Kyle whimpers, letting his finger absent mindedly run along Cartman's shoulder blade.
"No. Not unless you're here." Cartman murmurs. Kyle let's him run a hand through his curls, Cartman loves the feel of them in between his fingers.
Kyle looks up, his tear filled, vulnerable eyes meeting Cartman's for the first time. And Cartman is speechless by how Kyle has never looked so perfect in this tender moment and that he wants nothing more but to kiss him, a kiss that will answer all his questions and make the both of them tremble with a mutual understanding.
"Why?" Kyle asks, giggling slightly, though he wishes he didn't.
"Because my life would be worthless. I would be fucking terrified... Knowing you're here is the only thing that makes me get up in the morning and go through all this bullshit."
Kyle smiles, his first genuine smile since he's arrived. Hope has twisted and risen out of it's ashes and it's never felt so great, so liberating. He never knew it could feel so good, he never thought he could feel this way.
"Let's stick together okay? Promise me." Kyle says, wiping away his tears and gripping onto Cartman's shoulder.
"I promise." Cartman smiles, before grabbing Kyle's curls roughly and pulling him forward into a slow, deep kiss that makes them writhe and melt. Kyle struggles at first, panicking and trying to break free from Cartman's embrace. It was Cartman after all, how the fuck could he kiss him? Even if new feelings are fighting there way to the surface. But he's enjoying it and it chills him when he admits that to himself, he groans, twinned with stubbornness and undeniable pleasure. Cartman laughs softly in between their lips and presses his lips harder, craving Kyle's affection. Eventually Kyle gives in, he smiles and moans, deepening the kiss and wanting it to never end, while Cartman falls apart inside by how Kyle's lips, his kiss, his taste is even better than he imagined. He wants to savor every moment and he prays that they'll do this again. As they pull away, Kyle stares at their damp lips, swollen by kisses.
Cartman firmly says, staring deep into Kyle's eyes "I'll never leave you."
Everything crystallized for Kyle at that moment. The kiss, those four words, the way Cartman was holding him and looking into his eyes. Kyle was taken back and overwhelmed, foreign feelings had ignited in him and rippled throughout his body.
"I'll never leave you either." Kyle breathlessly smiled.
That night, Cartman and him fell asleep on the floor, in a tangled, innocent embrace. Waking up with smiles on their faces.
With the knowledge that they had each other through the chaotic trials of war. And that was enough.