Drop Me Down and Don't Let Go

by Courtanie

Stan hasn't quite reached the level of a heightened physical relationship that Kenny and Kyle thrive on, but he's willing to get his first indulgence under Kenny's guidance. All they need is a sleepy, eager Kyle, a bundle of rope, and a whole lotta aftercare. Stylenny.

A/N: This fic contains a polyamorous relationship, consensual non-con, bdsm elements, bondage, (fake)knife play, subspace, and subdrop.

There's yer warnings, kiddos

Enjoy~

---

"Psst. Psssssssssssssssst."

The noise was vibrating against his ear, Kyle ripped from his half-dozed off state back into drowsy bleariness. He groaned, tucking his head down and curling up under his lightweight quilt, trying a last-line of defense against the burden that was reality seeping back into burning, deprived eyes.

"Ky?" the noise shifted, a hot breath washing over his hair and lips brushing over his ear just enough to make a shiver roll down his spine at so unexpected a sensation. The bed dipped beside him, a soothing hand tracing up and landing itself comfortably along his waist, giving him light pets back and forth along his hip.

Kyle's brow furrowed, still unwilling to open his eyes. Who the hell was he talking to? Unable to differentiate a muted voice in his sleepless ambiance, he focused a bit on the hand caressing him. He could feel the lightest touch of nails not brutalized from years of biting them down. Callouses rubbing over the fabric of his t-shirt from years of handling tools and hauling heavy materials during the day. He flinched in the slightest at lips contacting his ear, a familiar smell of dirt and a tad too much aftershave invading his nostrils and setting him at ease. He sighed, feeling those lips curl a bit at the recognition finally taking hold as he lost the rigidity in his disturbed muscles. "What, Ken?" he mumbled half into his pillow.

Kenny smiled, pure mischief taking over his face underneath a set of fond blue eyes watching Kyle sifting through the motions of stirring. "Ain't seen ya all day," he said with a pout he knew Kyle couldn't even see with his back turned to him, but figured the pathetic tenor of his voice was plenty enough indication. "Missed ya."

"Hmm," Kyle mused, nodding a bit. "Sorry. Tired."

"So I see," he kissed his ear again, grinning at Kyle's head turning in the slightest towards him and glazed eyes barely creaking open in the darkness Kenny was so kind to make sure still overtook his room. Kenny's hand drifted from his hip up to cup his cheek and help keeping his sleep-laden head from lolling back down into his pillow. A thumb stroked affectionately under his eye, riding the ridge of his cheekbone and letting Kyle nuzzle into his palm. "Heard you didn't have dinner. You want anythin'?"

Kyle shook his head, "Uh uh." He yawned, too caught under Kenny's hypnotic stroking to bother with politely covering his mouth. "Big late lunch. Work party," he murmured, blinks heavy and slow.

Kenny nodded, knowing from stories of the past that Kyle wasn't kidding, their parties were full of food. And poor Kyle was surrounded by ladies in their late fifties that made his plate for him because "he was just far too skinny" and wouldn't let him be to go back to his desk until he ate it all. "Check your sugar?"

"Mhm," he sighed out, head shifting in Kenny's palm to be cradled. He lazily kissed the heel of his palm, too worn out to do much else.

Ken smiled, leaning down and planting his lips firmly against his neck, relishing in the groggy moan rumbling through his throat. "Love when you're sleepy," he murmured against his skin.

Kyle's lips twitched into a smirk at the ticklish sensation ravaging his skin, shoulders rolling back and shifting closer to the warmth of Kenny's mouth. "I try," he yawned again.

"Nahhh, you don't have to try," he teased, lips hitting the outline of his jaw. "I just love ya."

He snorted, hand limply flopping up and hitting his thigh. "Corny," he murmured. His eyebrow raised in the slightest at a wandering hand maneuvering under the covers, trailing down over his hip and brushing over his groin. "Ken… sleepy," he whined.

"Wanna play drugged up and unable to go?" he purred, kissing slightly parted lips.

He shook his head, Kenny immediately pulling his hand back from its location. "Not good at it," he mumbled.

Kenny grinned. Well. He wasn't wrong. Kyle snapped into too much alertness, wasn't very good at staying slurring and incoherent unless intoxicated, and an intoxicated Kyle was strictly off limits, no matter how damn handsy he got. "How 'bout home invasion?"

Kyle let out a few quiet laughs, nestling down further into his hand. "Maybe. Lil sleep though…"

He moved over, pecking his ear again. "You'd like that? Get few hours a' sleep, woken up and tied up 'fore ya know what's happenin'?" Kyle smiled a bit, nodding. Even in his exhausted state, such a notion brought a tingling sensation to the pits of his stomach, lucid mind thinking about those red marks left all over him and being held down… Kenny looked up in thought, stomach whirling with excitement of what all could be done. "First things first," he kissed his cheek. "What's the word for this one?"

Kyle scoffed, shaking his head. "Um…S-strawberry," he sighed. Always Kenny's precursor, it'd never wavered. His brilliance had come up with the notion of different safe words for varying, potentially hazardous situations if Kyle was asked when a bit out of it, where he wouldn't be so much as touched if he couldn't gather his thoughts enough to remember in a specified amount of time. Kyle's nose scrunched in thought. Was it three seconds or five? He couldn't remember that, but he did remember being handed a sheet and studying the shit out of it for days on end so he wouldn't miss out on anything just because he was blanking out or, in this case, possibly too gone to know what he was consenting to by Kenny's standards. He appreciated it, but didn't appreciate when it came about in times where he legitimately was fine, he just couldn't goddamn remember. There were a lot of words and a lot of scenarios, and remembering them felt more pressuring than midterms ever did.

"Good boy," Kenny praised, kissing his temple and watching that frown melt off his face. "And here?" he asked, placing a light hand over Kyle's mouth.

Kyle opened his eyes enough to roll them, throat letting out a weak 'wee-ooh-wee-ooh' like a drunken ambulance.

He hummed as the palm slid off his lips and Kenny's own were placed against his forehead. "Good good boy," he smiled. "Get some sleep."

Kyle nodded, feeling cold as Kenny's hand left his cheek at last and he fell back into his pillow. He curled back up, clutching around his quilt and yawning once again, barely noticing Kenny leaving his mattress and walking out of the room.

Kenny bit his lip as he stepped out into the hall, twisting the doorknob to silently slide it back into place. He let go and stepped away staring at it, assuring its sealed state before breaking into a grin and whirling on his heel, hurrying with light steps towards the lit kitchen down the way. He popped his head through the alcove to find Stan mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Dark blue eyes caught the appearance and raised. "He want anything?"

Kenny shook his head, stepping onto the tile. "Nah. He's beat."

Stan nodded, "Yeah I figured. He came home dragging, I was surprised he tried to wait up for you as long as he did."

He grinned and shrugged, "Who wouldn't? I'm just such a charming bastard."

"Well. You're half right," he snorted, smirking at Kenny flipping him off dramatically. "You want your usual?" he asked, turning back to the menu displayed on his phone.

"Mhm," he nodded, stepping up beside him and leaning down with his chin on Stan's shoulder, giving him a quick kiss. "I say we get food and watch a movie or two. You know. Pass a good few hours."

Stan cocked his brow, glancing over at him as he scrolled through the sandwich selections. "Wasn't that already the plan?"

He smiled, "Well, yes. But now we have a reason to drag it out even longer."

"And that would be…?"

Kenny grinned, bopping their heads together. "We get t' have some fun."

Eyes rolled drastically before landing back on his phone. "We don't need to stall for sex, you fucking idiot. We can while we wait to go pick up the food-"

"Ahp," he stopped him with a hand over his mouth. "Not just us."

Stan frowned, shaking off his palm and scoffing. "What, Kyle just want a nap first or something?"

"In a waayyyy," he sang, sliding around the island Stan was propped on to the other side, leaning across from him with pure joy sparkling through his eyes. "We get t' play with 'im," he announced with a wide grin.

He blinked, "I feel like there's more to this than you're telling me right away."

A casual shrug rolled through his shoulders. "Well, it's gonna take a few things. You know... let 'im get some rest, you n' I get some caffeine in us…" he smirked and raised his brows, "Then we get the rope…"

Stan frowned, "Dude. What did you do?"

"Ky wants t' play nighttime home invasion," he shrugged again. "I think it's our job to make sure his wants are met."

He shook his head, "He wants to? Or you do?"

Kenny pouted, "The fuck kinda person do you take me for? Yes, I suggested it but I got his okay first, Dicknuts. He's cool with bein' surprised like that," he snatched Stan's can of Mountain Dew and took a few long gulps as Stan stared at him.

"Um… Dude are you sure that's cool?" he winced. "I mean you know how Ky is when he's shocked outta sleep-"

"Fidgety, I know. That's why ya gotta hold 'im down nice n' tight," he smirked, tipping the can towards him. Stan shifted uncomfortably and Kenny rolled his eyes, "Dude, chill. If you don't wanna, fine, I'll go at it alone. Thought I'd offer though since you've never done it with 'im."

"From right out of sleeping, though?"

He scoffed, "Yes. We did it that way a shit ton of times 'fore you came into it," he pointed at him, Stan pouting. Always the odd man out in these situations, every goddamn time. Coming into Kenny and Kyle's long-standing relationship had been a mess of trial and error for the last year and a half. It'd been awkward from the start, having to "pass" Kenny's exam of not only how well he performed but how well he could read Kyle's little signals during. Two squeezes on his shoulder meant he was good to start moving. If his nose was still scrunched after getting inside, he needed to stay still until those pinches. Scratching meant faster, hair pulling meant harder. Such a plethora of little things Stan would have taken months to pick up on his own, and so many sessions with Kyle spent with Kenny watching, shooting Stan dirty looks if he wasn't stimulating Kyle 'correctly' or just wasn't marking him up to his high standards.

Kyle always seemed happy, but Kenny was usually about two seconds away from going to type up a report card before oblivious Kyle would tug him down to join their sweated mess.

Stan had wondered for months if he was doing that just so Stan would eventually step back out of their relationship feeling like a failure. At least until Kyle was out of town on business for three nights and they had devolved into drunken arguments with one another regarding the situation. Overwhelming frustrations and pent-up lusts lead them to staying in bed with each other for nearly the entire length of Kyle's being gone. Kenny had been draped over him and pouting, staring at the wall and just quiet before finally telling him how he was sorry. That he just really wanted this to work since it was his idea in the first place. How he just didn't want something to mess up and he'd end up losing them both.

"If you're afraid of that, why did you suggest we try this?" Stan had asked, tugging at matted blond hair.

Kenny had been silent for a few moments before sighing and shrugging. "Ky loves you. And I love Ky."

"He also loves the shit out of you." he'd reminded him. "He would've stayed with you no matter what you wanted to do about this whole thing."

He'd smiled and nodded, feeling a swelling pride in his chest from working so hard to earn Kyle's affections and getting a hold of them like no other. "It's you and me that's the problem."

Stan had shrugged, "I don't think it's even a problem. Just… we're not quite up at that level yet."

"Think we'll ever get there?" he'd murmured, tracing a ticklish pattern over Stan's stomach.

"Yeah. I do."

And Stan liked to think that they had, having broken out the L word on instinct to each other nearly six months back, Kyle in the room with them at the time slowly turning his head from his bagel and unable to stop cracking up at their shocked faces directed at one another. He'd waved them off to 'go celebrate realizing how faggy they are for each other' and they'd done so with gusto, only finally coming back out to find Kyle already prepping dinner and looking up at them with a smug grin. "Wow," he'd commented. "I didn't get that long from either of you with our first 'love you'. Guess you queers are made for each other or some shit."

Since then it'd been smooth sailing between the three of them, feeling more like a little dysfunctional family every day with only the occasional squabble getting in the way of an otherwise perfect situation. They were each other's secrets, the outside world only knowing of Kenny and Kyle being involved as they had been since high school. None of them were quite ready to tell friends or family that they had a triad going strong, and it was something that bonded them closer as far as they could tell. There was no judgement to be had, there was no outside force questioning them on logistics or what ifs. Just three boys tangled up on the couch and in their hearts, more than happy to relish in their private world as the singular unit they worked so hard to keep solid.

Stan sighed, looking back at his phone screen, now gone black from lack of use, and tapped his bitten thumbnail against the glass. "You're sure he's okay with it?"

Kenny cocked his brow, "Haven't you done any kind of roleplay with him yet? I mean he ain't mentioned it but…" he paused, seeing Stan wincing a bit and he stared at him suspiciously. "What did you do?"

Stan gnawed on his lip, shrugging half-heartedly. "We tried. Once… I… I grabbed him too hard, he called the word and I got away from him."

"So you did the right thing…" he rolled his hand in front of him, failing to understand why he looked so upset.

"He kept trying to get me back but I just couldn't," he cringed. "I felt so awful… I just made sure he was okay and left him be. Went out for a while."

Kenny squinted a bit, leaning his chin into his palm. "Where'd ya grab him? I ain't ever had him call because of that."

"He had this bruise I didn't see," he groaned. "Like it was on his arm and the lights were just dim so I didn't-" he paused with Kenny beginning to chuckle, face falling into a frown. "How is that funny?" he demanded.

"He soft-stopped you, he wasn't calling you off altogether, you dolt," he snorted. "He'll do that sometimes without realizing it."

Stan blinked, "Whaddya mean? He's done it to you?"

He nodded, "Dude. Tons of times. Little bastard loves to get bruised but it hurts him like hell when you accidently hit 'em once they're there. It just shocks him back out and he calls on instinct but he always simmers right back down. You just gotta wait a few beats and see what he does."

His shoulders sank, "Wait. Then… how does he actually stop it?"

Kenny bit his lip softly, "Trust me, you'd know if it happened."

"Wait. He did it to you?" he asked skeptically. He'd seen how precisely Kenny calculated everything he ever did to Kyle, how if one thing stepped out of place it was immediately rectified before Kyle could ever catch some kind of consequence.

Kenny nodded, eyes dropping to the counter and tapping his finger against the polished maple. "A few times but there was this one where he was at his worst. We uh… we were doin' a scene and he was kind of… driftin' in and out like he does, you know," he waved his hand aimlessly, Stan nodding along. "There was this really fucking loud noise outside," he frowned. "I think it was a firework or someone backing up into a fucking dumpster, I still have no idea, but it kind of ripped him out and he just full-on freaked because he couldn't see me right away or hear me over the damn sound. He called and just fucking… thrashed because I reached over and touched his leg or something. He just got himself up and kinda… cowered against the wall for a bit until I could talk him down. So trust me, you'd fuckin' know if you'd messed up beyond repair."

Stan blinked, "Okay but you didn't mess that up."

He shrugged, "Maybe. I didn't make the noise but I was off to the side where he couldn't see or feel or hear me for those few seconds and that freaked him out more than anything. That's why I tell ya, ya always gotta be doin' somethin' for 'im when you got him down."

Blue eyes lit in realization, "That's why you fucking hum, isn't it?"

"The fact that it took you this long to realize that worries me," he said dryly. "But yeah. So long as ya got somethin' for him t' hold on to, he'll be fine most likely." Stan still looked a bit skeptical and he rolled his eyes. "Stan, it's fine. If he does freak out, no matter what goddamn word he calls, we stop. I just gave him that damn list of different ones for askin' 'im. He'll be fine. He's always fine. He'll be sleepy, not have goddamn amnesia."

He nodded slowly, weighing his words. That was true. Kyle might be shocked but it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who was holding onto him. And he'd seen Kenny sneak up on him and get him down plenty of times before without a hitch… This couldn't be too different. He hoped.

Ken snorted at the quizzical expression plastered on his face. "Oh, stop being a baby and order my damn food," he leaned back up and raised his arms, back popping with a content sigh. "Everything'll be awesome," he promised.

Stan sighed through his nose, turning his phone back on and continuing to scroll through the menu. "I hope you're right. Last thing we need to deal with is him getting hurt."

"Well that's why we use the fake knife," he said nonchalantly, snatching his soda again as Stan's eyes gradually raised back up to meet his own.

"Knife?" he repeated.

Kenny smirked, followed by a long slurp of carbonated goodness before tossing the emptied can at Stan's head. "You're 'bout t' have your first successful session, Stanny m'dear..." he leaned forward with an impish grin, Stan lost in the thrill playing throughout sky blue eyes. "And you're just gonna kick yourself for not gettin' to it sooner."

---

Stan couldn't tell if this was excitement or rampant reluctance that was ravaging his system. It'd taken him a good ten minutes to convince Kenny that no, they didn't need to go through the fucking window to set the damn scene, that sneaking through the door was plenty. He'd almost forgotten how deeply invested into the game Kenny was, seeing him pout and kick at the floor like a scolded child. He supposed that was good that he was into it, at least one of them would stay in the mindset to keep them going. Lord knew Stan had no idea how he'd act. His attempt with Kyle seemed pretty successful until that mis-grab, so he could only hope that he'd do okay here. Given that was a fairly vanilla set-up in comparison to what they planned to do here. He knew Kenny would give him a goddamn lecture if he didn't live up to expectations. Maybe sign him up for acting classes where he would be asked of his motives for joining and have to say "well you see one of my boyfriends is super into me and our other boyfriend being all "angry" and "forcing" him into things so I need to learn how to make him suck my dick while he screams and flails and shit because he's really good on his end I'm bad on mine though please and thanks".

He flinched as a hand flew up in his face and snapped. "Yo, you in there, Marsh?" Kenny asked, snatching his bag from the ground and cocking his brow at him.

Stan nodded briskly. "Yeah, sorry. Spaced out."

"Well do not do that in there," he jerked his head towards Kyle's door waiting down the hallway for them. "You lose focus and I'm sending you out here so you don't hurt 'im."

"I'll be fine. Jesus," he frowned as Kenny rolled his eyes and unzipped his bag, doing a final check for their things and nodding, snatching a black plastic handle from the confines and passing it to Stan.

"There, you can play with this. Need ya t' keep 'im mostly still for me."

Stan frowned, looking down at the material and pushing a long button resting along the underside, jolting at a blade slipping out into exposure. "Dude!" he hissed.

Kenny groaned, grabbing it and holding it against his own palm, displaying for Stan as he viciously sawed back and forth, pulling back and revealing no more than an irritated red mark. "I told you it's fake. I fuckin' modified it, you dumbshit. Now are we going or not?"

Stan winced, gently grabbing it back and nodding as he slipped it closed. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Kyle's gonna fuckin' fight," he warned him. "So being an apologetic puss ain't gonna get you nowhere. Just relax," he softened his tone. "He's gonna have fun and so are you. If you calm down."

"Right," he nodded again, biting his lip and watching Kenny shake his head before gesturing for him to follow after him. They snuck down the hallway, carefully evading the creaky floorboard resting in the middle of the corridor as they came up to Kyle's door. Kenny glanced at the kitchen light still glowing far down the way, knowing that it wouldn't be nearly strong enough to rouse Kyle from needed slumber. He looked back to his bag, snaring a long, folded strip of dark cotton and lobbing it over his shoulder, placing his hand on the doorknob and genially twisting it open, wincing as the door creaked as he pressed.

They both peered inside at the lump on the bed, ears perked to hear the sound of heavy, deep breaths sneaking under the air conditioner. Kyle's back was to them, and they both froze as he shifted before settling back down with a quiet, dreamy groan. They looked at each other, smirking in the limited light. They knew that sound better than anyone. Kyle was long gone, had already gone through at least two cycles with the duration they'd given him while they ate and bided their time.

Ken jerked his head, slipping silently into the room and Stan following suit. Kenny crept up closer to Kyle's ignorant, limber form, sliding his bag off his arm and to the ground, rolling his shoulders back to loosen up. He looked at Stan beside him for a nod of assured readiness, moving closer together and looking over Kyle nestled into his mattress and quietly snoring away. Stan shoved the knife into his pocket, the two of them digging their feet onto the hardwood floor and raising their arms a bit over Kyle.

Kenny snapped his own down, one digging under the mattress and scooping underneath Kyle's arms while the other met him around the opposite side. Kyle's eyes shot open with a panicked yelp and flailing for his quilt as he was dragged across the bedding, Stan snagging his legs and helping Kenny lift and bring him down onto the floor with a thud, his shocked form still tangled in his sheets.

"Fuckin'… The fuck I-" Kyle slurred before being stopped with a rough hand slapping down against his mouth, yanked back out of the safety of his blankets into Kenny's chest and tethered under his arm. Kyle's heart was pounding, eyes stained with sleep-deprived tears and wheezing for air under Kenny's palm. He whined, squirming on the floor, bare feet unable to find friction as he jerked around. Familiar smells flooded over him but he couldn't seem to pinpoint them, still delusional and half-lingering in his ripped away dreamland.

He gasped at a husky chuckle reverberating against his ear, a tremor sweeping down his stiffened spine. "Shouldn't leave your door unlocked," Kenny breathed, the heat absolutely scorching against Kyle's sensitive nerves. "Pretty little thing like you should know better."

The familiarity of the grating timbre sent a wave of relief through Kyle's limbs, able to ground himself at last with a reassurance of who was holding him. Kenny felt the loosening of Kyle's true panic and nodded to Stan, jerking his head towards the cloth on his shoulder. Stan swiped and unfolded the strip, Kyle grunting as his head was forced up straight and barely managing a peek through aching eyes before he was blinded again within twice-wrapped dark fabric. He snarled, kicking and twisting, trying to jerk his head from their restriction. A frustrated hiss whizzed through his teeth as Stan's leg came down atop his own to keep them steady, yipping at a tight knot of the blindfold catching in his tousled curls. He tried lifting his arms, his wrists flapping about in frustration trying to hit at them.

Stan's hands pulled back from securing his textile, Kyle trying to shake his head before being forced back against Kenny's chest with a firm tug. Kenny smirked, leaning back down to his ear and humming, biting at the shell and watching Kyle flinch from his touch. "Be a good boy and this'll be so much easier," he purred.

Kyle growled, opening his mouth enough to get his top teeth unrestricted and bringing them down onto Kenny's index finger, digging in deep. Kenny yelled, pulling his hand from his grasp and looking down at the vivid indentation marks before back to Kyle's panting, struggling form. He sneered, whirling Kyle around and bringing a quick, open palm against his cheek with an echoing crack and watching Kyle tumble onto the floor. Stan stared at Kenny in shock before he began to move again as Kyle floundered, trying to scramble onto his feet and yank off his blindfold simultaneously. Kenny grabbed Kyle's wrists and shoved him backwards onto the ground, straddling his hips as Kyle groaned at his head colliding against the floor. Kenny watched him for a beat until he began struggling again and resumed his dominating dance.

"Get off!" Kyle roared, kicking and snarling as his wrists were forced up over his head.

"Oh, we fuckin' plan to," Kenny taunted, lifting him slightly and shoving him back onto the floor. He snapped his wrists together under one domineering palm, free hand moving down to grip and shake his trembling chin. "Right on your fuckin' pretty little face," he leaned down and hissed.

Kyle reared back against the floor before launching up in his hold, spitting right under his eye. Kenny jerked back in shock before turning to look at Stan and grinning wildly in the low light still seeping through Kyle's open door. "Light," he directed, pressing down harder on Kyle's wrists as he wriggled underneath him, trying to kick him off. Stan headed towards the nightstand and switched on his tableside lamp, both wincing at the sudden 30-watt invasion against their retinas. Kenny hummed, wiping off Kyle's attack and clicking his tongue, looking down at Kyle's gritted teeth and frustrated, short shouts as he struggled to get himself out. "Wasn't very nice," he drawled, bringing his hand back down and slapping Kyle's opposite cheek, grinning at the pained, scared yelp breaking through his throat. "Hold 'im," he nodded at Stan, watching him kneel down and take Kyle's wrists himself in one hand, unwilling to be outdone by Kenny. Sitting back on Kyle's legs, Kenny pinned them down as he reached for his bag.

"Fuckin' let go!" Kyle shouted, hands twisting and trying to scratch at Stan's wrist. He groaned as Stan slammed his hand down against his mouth and forced him back against the floor. He continued his muffled snaps, wincing at Stan digging his fingers in warning against his cheek.

Kenny popped his lips, shuffling through supplies and letting out a soft 'ah' as he found a neatly coiled long bundle of forest green hemp rope, a birthday present for Kyle the year prior that had him practically throwing Stan's pitiable Xbox game gift out the window to get to the real playtime. "So," Kenny said casually, snatching out a set of medical shears and putting them behind him out of Kyle's possible path, beginning to slowly edge Kyle's t-shirt up his torso and watching him squirm. "Front or back?" he asked.

Stan glanced up from observing Kyle trying to jerk his head from his grip and cocked his brow, "Huh?"

Ken rolled his eyes, bearing more weight on Kyle's thighs as he picked up trying to kick again. "Arms. Front or back? Gotta keep pretty boy here still," he taunted, Kyle flinching at a forceful yanking of his shirt to rest bunched under his chin, a purposeful finger trailing along the bumps of his ribcage.

Stan blinked at him in surprise; Kenny was letting him make a call on something like this? That was practically unheard of, Kenny always taking complete charge when the restraints came out. Given, that was probably his own damn fault, having failed Ken's bondage exam, accidentally placing his knot in the wrong damn place in a practice session and cutting off Kyle's hand circulation. He'd ended up being flat-out denied all rights to his stash without him there as his supervisor and was too paranoid to try again. He supposed just choosing the position was far different from making it a reality, but it still felt like such a privilege for Kenny to give him. He looked back down at Kyle's fidgeting, how his stomach sucked in at Ken's touch. "Back," he decided, looking up and giving him a casual shrug. "Means we gotta hold him up by his hair."

Kenny's lips broke into a wide grin, impressed. "I like the way you think," he purred. He reached up and grabbed Kyle's chin, shaking him lightly. "Hear that?" he cooed. "Gonna be all trussed up just fer us." Kyle sneered, jerking about with angry, incoherent shouts before a flat hand against his torso shoved him back onto the ground. Kenny turned his head, one hand working on undoing his bundle and the other scavenging back into his bag, a hungry tongue passing over his lips. He pulled out another long strip of fabric, Stan eying the large knot in the middle of the strand and looking at Ken questionably.

Ken grinned, eyes sparkling with that mischief again as he set his rope aside. "Hand," he instructed. Stan pulled his palm off Kyle's mouth, both watching him take a large breath.

"MOTHERFU-" he stopped with a yelp and a cringe at cotton being forced past his teeth, trying to twist his head away and working his tongue to fight against Kenny's fingers.

Ken looked up with a chuckle, "Let's flip 'im," he murmured, carefully moving off Kyle's legs to avoid being kicked. Kyle was never the only one who walked out of these situations bruised, and it made it all the more fun to compare numbers in the aftermath. Didn't matter, they had concluded, everybody always won in the end. Stan grunted, moving to grip Kyle's wrists from the underside and nodding sharply at his waiting partner. "Now," Kenny spat, the two of them forcing Kyle back with a yelp onto his stomach. His head barely turned in time to avoid smashing his nose against his rosewood flooring, tongue succeeding in shoving out his gag.

"Get off!" he shouted, trying to pull out of Stan's locked grip, wrist joints stretching with sinful pain. He yelled at a knee coming up and onto the small of his back, shoving him back down. A frustrated, still-groggy grunt left him as Kenny snatched the knotted gag and pulled it back into place, forcing Kyle's head back as he tied it around his head. Kyle whimpered, jaw stretched and tongue cramped as it was forced down into the floor of his mouth. His hands twisted, managing to turn the left enough to grab Stan's wrist and dig his nails down into opposite sides of his radius. Stan hissed, hand involuntarily opening and letting Kyle loose enough to punch at his leg.

"Fuckin'!" Stan groaned from the hit, struggling to regrip his arm and bring it back onto the ground.

Kenny snorted, finishing his tying and looking at Stan with a smirk. "Squirmy lil shit. Still, figured you'd be able t' hold 'im," he teased, getting a sharp glare from Stan as his leg continued to throb from a well-placed fist. They looked back down as Kyle mumbled from behind his cloth and wriggled about, whining as Kenny straddled back over him and snatched his rope from by his waist. He worked on finding the middle, the coarse texture slipping fluidly through his fingers. "Get his shirt," he directed, planting himself firmer on Kyle's hips to prevent him from running.

Stan sighed through his nose, awkwardly gripping his wrists together once more and growling as he struggled to pull Kyle's shirt up over his head. Why the fuck couldn't he sleep practically naked like Kenny? It'd make it so much goddamn easier. But, he supposed half the fun of the present was getting to unwrap it, or at least Kenny would have some kind of similar theory.

Kyle gasped through his gag as all his front half was exposed to the chill of the floor, loins aching and driving him crazy being so unattainable, feeling Kenny's stirring cock pressed against his backside. His mind was still fuzzy enough for it to feel surreal, but he couldn't seem to tell if it was from being ripped out of sleep or he was just already starting to ride a high.

He loved every moment of this, having not only Kenny but Stan holding him down as well. He didn't have to hold back fighting off as much here as he did when it was just lanky Kenny tossing him about. Stan had an edge over them both that Kyle had been itching to have exploited for too goddamn long. Stomach caught in nothing but flutters, heart racing, and body reacting as naturally as it pleased as he 'fought'… Kyle couldn't picture this feeling any better.

He griped as his shirt was finally torn off with some finagling of his arms, shuddering at the feeling of Kenny's hemp brushing over his back as he carefully prepped his bight. Kenny gently gripped the curve with his teeth to mark his place, reaching for Kyle's arms and motioning for Stan to help him guide them where he needed. Kyle yelled out, jerking as his arms were turned and shoved down, stacked behind his back. Kenny watched for Kyle's uncomfortable twitches, the way his shoulder would involuntarily spasm if put into too disliked a position or a barrage of predetermined siren noises. He nodded to himself at no such indication, moving Stan's helping hands to keep him steady along his forearms, lifting Kyle's limbs just slightly for room to work. "Keep 'im there," he directed, a slight press of his knee twice against Kyle's side.

Kyle blinked under his blindfold at the motion, Kenny's silent way of telling him "go ahead and fight but not too much. This shit is complicated enough I don't want to hurt you because you're a stubborn asshole". He was fine with that instruction, he supposed. Last thing he needed was to completely wear himself out before they got to the best part. He opted to simmer in the slightest but still make violent jerks of his torso to try to get out of Stan's solid grip. His eyes scrunched as Stan's fingers tightened around the bone, nearly moaning before stopping himself at both the delicious pressure and knowing he wasn't walking out of this looking goddamn pristine.

He flinched in surprise as rope was wrapped around his parallel lower wrists once, then twice, feeling a tingle rushing through his body with each fibrous scrape against his skin. A shaking breath left him at the bight being threaded around and under the other strands, letting out a soft sound as they were pulled taut and Kenny began to knot it in place with the running end.

Stan watched from above, fascinated per the usual at Kenny's concentrated face and how fluidly he watched Kyle's body for strain. In all their years spent growing up alongside each other, he never saw Kenny as hyper-focused as he became here, so goddamn scared of slipping up he would forget to breathe until his lungs ached, so intensely observing their boyfriend that Stan wondered if Kyle's skin would be seared through. He shook himself out of his wonderment as Kenny moved his secured knot to the top of Kyle's arms, looking at him at last with a simper.

"Now we get to have fun with your suggestion," he winked, Stan cocking his head.

"What suggestion?"

Kenny licked over his lips, scooching off Kyle's back and moving his rope with him to keep from twisting, moving to put his shin down over Kyle's calves to keep still. "I need him on his knees. I'm guessin' pretty boy here is more than used to that," he taunted, both smirking at an audible growl from Kyle's throat. "Would you kindly get him up?" he asked, tugging on a lock of his own hair.

Stan made a quiet sound of understanding, releasing Kyle's arms and watching him try to tug them apart, trapped in their hold as he squirmed and mumbled through his cloth. Kyle's breath hitched as fingers threaded through his strewn hair, crying out as he was ripped up onto his knees with Kenny's hand clutching his shoulder to get him at the angle needed. Kyle cursed unintelligibly, trying to pull from Stan's hold with pained tears welling his eyes from the strain on his roots. He hissed as his head was pulled back further, face directed to the ceiling and jaw shaking at something thin pressing against his throat. "Don't move," Stan said calmly, Kenny nodding in approval as he began wrapping the hemp around Kyle's upper chest.

Kyle blinked, gulping and feeling the foreign object following with his expanding trachea. He knew this sensation, knew exactly what was being pushed against him. He'd watched Kenny making it, sitting and eating a sandwich months prior as Kenny disassembled a set of folding knives for Craig for movie props. He'd observed, enthralled with how Kenny so craftily made replacement blades out of old cut, sanded, and painted CD's to put them within the original holds. He remembered grinning a little too much at Ken teasing that he'd made one just for them and tapping his nose with the handle before taking the time to show him on the back of his wrist just how little of damage it could do.

Didn't stop his imagination from flying into overdrive, however. That blunt edge felt vicious, like the wrong move could spell a disaster and his certain demise. It was thrilling and terrifying in one go, he could feel his dick aching and leaking pre-come against the front of his pajamas. Another fleeting thought of 'Jesus, how fucked up am I' came and went as it always did before the reawakening sensation of his binds being tightened. He supposed it didn't matter, the two surrounding him got just as much enjoyment out of this as he did, so at least he wasn't alone in such inner quandaries. A long groan left him as Stan's fingers tightened, the knife pressing harder against him as he flinched with Kenny working around the stem of his rope.

"Good good boy," Kenny cooed, smirking at the telltale tremor running along Kyle's spine. He took his running end for another two trips around Kyle's torso along his lower chest, peeking around front to see how his wraps aligned and nodding in approval before coming back behind him. He clicked his teeth, threading his end under his wraps and around the stem, murmuring to himself as he wormed his fingers through strands to tie off. He tapped Kyle's shoulder blade twice and pulled back his hands, Kyle taking his cue and struggling against the binds for Kenny to watch, Stan pulling the blade away as he did so. Kenny peered back around at Kyle's front, staring intently at the wraps for slippage as Kyle wiggled about and grinning at his work.

"See?" he purred, gripping the back of his hair and yanking his head backwards again, shivering at his blocked yelp. He slid behind him, biting his shoulder and chuckling at his balking. "Not so bad when you behave, is it?" he asked.

Kyle growled, bashing backwards and sending Kenny stumbling a bit. Kenny scowled, moving back into place and tearing harder at his curls until Kyle yelled in pain. "Bad," he spat, reaching up and undoing his gag knot, yanking the cloth out and away to toss aside.

"Leggo," Kyle rasped with the strenuous pull keeping him contorted.

"Nope," he said simply, reaching and grabbing Stan's shirt, pulling him forward to sandwich Kyle between them, both watching his chest heaving and his repetitive gulps. Whimpering with another yank on his hair, his lips parted and revealed clattering teeth. Kenny smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Stan before wrapping a hand around the back of his head and pushing him forward to collide against Kyle's lips. Kyle yelped in shock, trying to back up before Kenny forced him back into place, nodding a confused Stan on. "See? We're tryin' t' treat ya so nice," he drawled, moving to the crook of his neck and digging his teeth into the sensitive skin.

Kyle groaned, nose scrunching at the familiar taste of Stan delving into his mouth and ravishing his tongue, feeling those sturdy fingers gripping along his chin to keep him still. Kenny's lips and teeth kept moving along, suckling hard enough for Kyle to wince and feel utterly entrapped between the two of them. He was seeping, turning into putty as he was overwhelmed and losing focus amid their body heat. He wanted to fan himself, step out into the night air for a breath or two. But he also wanted to fall prey into their smothering embrace, be absorbed by the two people he loved most dearly and let them decide his stifling fate.

Hazy wanderings were interrupted with a sudden hand sliding down the front of his pajamas, gasping into Stan's mouth at fingers curling around his solid cock. He could feel Kenny's devious smile against his shoulder. "Someone's likin' their attention," he purred. "What would we call someone like that?" he questioned, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Kyle's cheeks flushed a deeper rouge, Stan finally pulling his tongue out of his mouth and allowing him a few hoarse breaths. He whined as Stan changed direction to the other side of his neck, basking it in the same harsh treatment as Kenny had given him. He gritted his teeth with a firm pull of his hair. "C'monnnn," Kenny coaxed. "What would we call ya?"

He shook his head all his grip allowed, crying out as Stan bit him harder. "F-fuck off," he stammered, captive fists clenching behind him.

"We ain't gonna be fuckin' off, we're gonna be fuckin' you," he hissed in his ear, humming at the shudder rippling through his back. He reached to Stan's hand and tapped it, Stan passing off the knife as he went for another victim spot and trading places with his hand down Kyle's pajamas. A sharp intake of air slipped through Kyle's teeth at the reintroduction against his throat, feeling too many sensations at once, his head absolutely spinning. A part of him wanted to lie down and catch up to what was happening, the other part just wanting to be thrown down and taken right goddamn now. But he knew Kenny too well for that, knew that this was going to drag on until he was in tears, until he was willing to beg and scream to get what they both wanted; well, this time, what they all wanted. "C'mon," he husked in his ear, biting the shell. "Starts with an 's'."

"No," he stayed firm despite his quivering vibrato, moaning at Stan's tongue trailing along his clavicle with little nips. He frowned at the deep laughter from Kenny at his noise, eyes scrunching shut at the blade pressing so menacingly under his chin.

Kenny clicked his tongue, shaking his head and brushing against wisps of hair. "How 'bout this: You fill in the blank of this sentence. Make it easier for ya." He licked behind his ear, Kyle's body melting against him at such a precise swipe over one of his most sensitive spots. "Yer gonna be our little cock blank," he whispered. "Fill it in."

"Biter," he hissed stubbornly, grunting as his head was forced to the side, feeling Kenny glaring at him through his blindfold.

"You bite anything and you ain't gettin' outta here, you fuckin' understand me?" he snapped. "Might just take yer pretty little self with us, keep ya nice and chained up in the dark and just fuck ya whenever we wanna."

Stan smirked, feeling Kyle's dick twitching in his lightly fondling hand. He pulled back from a moistened, reddening mark on his neck. "I think he'd like that too much," he commented.

Kyle growled, trying to hit him with his shoulder before being pulled back in his place. Kenny mirrored Stan's expression. "Ain't a surprise. His type likes that kinda thing. And just what type is that?" He urged, Kyle still shaking his head. "'Member how hard I smacked ya? He smacks harder," he warned, pushing him against Stan in the slightest.

'That a promise?' Kyle thought, fidgeting to get out of his hand. Stan looked at Kenny with a blank expression, Ken raising his brow.

'Don't you goddamn make me a liar,' his face read, pulling the knife back and gesturing for Stan to do as threatened.

Stan winced, taking his hand from Kyle's pants and watching him hold back a whine and a jerk of his hips. He gulped, looking between Kyle's blinded face and Ken's eager expression, nodding him along. 'Remember when you thought these two just had normal nonviolent sex, Stan?' he pondered, cracking his fingers. 'Great that you were wrong but still, what the fuck.'

Kyle heard the popping of cartilage and tensed, feeling Ken moving him forward for Stan to have a better target. He was exhilarated and frightened; Stan had never hit him before. But unlike Kenny, Stan had just enough upper body strength to lob him into a bed with ease, so he knew the potential for a heavy hit lingered in the air.

Stan reared his hand back, Kenny waiting until he let it begin flying forward to release Kyle's hair. Kyle tried to move out of the way with his hold vanquished, running on pure, unseeing instinct. He came to a gasping cry of a stop with a hard palm smashing against his cheek. He toppled backwards into Kenny's hold, panting and whining, face utterly throbbing and bringing tears to his eye. He could feel their stares on him, could feel them wondering if Stan had gone a touch too hard on him.

Apparently, they forgot who they were dealing with, Kyle concluded.

He snarled, foot rearing back and smashing against Stan's hip, hearing him topple over and feeling Kenny snorting from behind him, giving him a soft pet against his scalp, a silent check to bring him back down from his pain high and ground him. Kyle let out a shaking breath, bumping his hand back with his head. He was fine. Stinging like a goddamn motherfucker, but fine. Kenny hiked him up against his chest, holding him still and watching his legs tiredly slide about the floor. Licking his lips, he leaned down to his ear, watching Stan scramble back upright and glaring at Kyle. "Wearin' yourself out, ain't ya?" he taunted.

"No," he bit, though his sagging muscles spoke to the contrary.

Kenny smirked, moving up onto his knees and bringing weary Kyle with him who continued to weakly writhe. "Ya know, I ain't a fan of yer smart mouth." All three of them could barely hold back a laugh, knowing damn well how much he was lying. "So," he proceeded, "I say we put it t' good use for once." He straightened him up tall by his hair, folding his finger for Stan to scoot closer. Stan blinked, doing as instructed and nearly jerking back as Kenny's free hand snapped to his jeans and undid his button. He mindlessly hummed, still ripping at Kyle's hair until he whined and tried bashing him away again as he fought Stan's dripping dick out of his boxers. Kenny grinned, shooting him a wink and gesturing for him to stand up.

Stan took a long breath, wincing through his throbbing hip and doing as instructed, breath hitching as Kyle was forced up close enough for his breath to rebound off his skin. Kyle felt the heat and ignored how his mouth salivated on cue, folding in his lips and trying to back away. "You better open nice n' wide, pretty boy," Kenny shook him, grabbing under his chin. Kyle shook his head, still trying to fight away. He winced as Stan's hand gripped the top of his hair, Kenny's fingers digging into his cheeks. He whimpered, struggling to keep his jaw locked through the varying sensations, losing his battle with gusto and letting out a displeased groan as hot skin invaded his mouth. Colors swirled through his blinded eyes, struggling to find a breathing pattern as Stan began to thrust into the wet chasm.

Kenny released his grip on his face, letting Stan keep him alert by his hair as he twisted and reached back, clicking his tongue. "You haven't been very cooperative," he commented, snatching a half-emptied bottle out of his duffle. The sound of Kyle's quiet gags and subtle whimpers brought a large smile to his face, his fingers trailing along his bare waist. Down, down they went until brushing over his hip bone and snagging his waistband. "I think we need t' teach ya some appreciation," he drawled, ripping down the plaid fabric at once, Kyle nearly jerking with the sudden exposure before Stan's cock kept him locked into place.

Kenny hummed behind him, Kyle trying to mentally prepare for whatever he seemed to be planning but failing with Stan so vehemently keeping his attention forward. His eyes rolled back at a harder press into his mouth, nearly choking as it edged the back of his throat and fighting for a breath. His tongue was overwhelmed with a familiar, welcomed taste, mouth so easily accommodating the well-practiced girth. He wondered if Kenny had this planned to the letter before he'd stepped into the room, or if he was making it up as he went along. Either one wouldn't surprise him, Kenny could set scenes like a goddamn director or improvise well enough for it all to flow seamlessly like a tessellation. Kyle loved it, loved how his creative side came into full-swing when he put Kyle in these compromising positions. It was a privilege to observe, and a treat to forever be his focal point and muse.

He gasped around Stan's flesh at that damn knife coming back to his neck and a slick hand gripping around his standing cock. A shudder raked through him as Kenny so precisely began to stroke, Kyle's body trying to fold back and melt into the form holding him captive. Lips trailed a freckled shoulder, leaving a glistening strand of saliva as blue eyes locked down on the hard skin in his hand. He let out a happy purr surrounded by the sounds of Stan's wet thrusting and Kyle's ragged breathing. "See how nice?" he whispered, pressing the blade against him harder. "Now suck," he commanded, Kyle barely managing to shake his head before a warning squeeze around his dick paused him. "If you don't wanna be left here fuckin' hogtied when we're done with ya, I suggest you fuckin' get to it."

Kyle shivered, knowing damn well Kenny would never in a million years leave him alone and bound, but the threat still seemed plausible enough to rattle him. He took as much of a breath as Stan would allow him, lips closing tighter around the uninvited guest and cheeks hollowing. The fingers in his hair lessened a bit in reward, hearing vague words of praise from both of them as he swam in his compromised fog. His skin was practically burning with Kenny's touch, hips unable to stop pulsing into his hand. He knew well enough he was doing nothing more than feeding Kenny's ego, but it just felt so fucking good he couldn't help himself.

A thumb swiped over his leaking head, his body alit with sensitivity. He could feel every stinging remnant of his hits and bites, how Stan and Kenny were staring at him so intensely it could leave bruises if left unchecked. He couldn't help a long-winded moan with paces picking up, lucidly slipping as Kenny chuckled huskily in his ear. "Good boy," he lauded, kissing under his ear. "You like that, dontcha? Don't care who has ya so long as yer getting' touched, right?" he grinned.

He fucking loved it. This was the one place he could throw out his anxieties, where someone else took hold of the reins and just forced him along. Being robbed of having to make choices, being told exactly what was going to happen to him and leaving nothing up to hit-or-miss was beyond relieving. He knew Kenny got a kick out of it just as well as he did, usually trailing behind Kyle's sensibilities and letting him lead the way in their day-to-day routines. Here, all of that got turned on its head in the best of ways with him calling all the shots and only giving Kyle the power to stop it; nothing more, nothing less. Kyle could only imagine Stan was feeling the same, he just as slow on the uptake in the day as Kenny was. But here his fingers were tight in his hair and his cock was buried in his mouth. He had control and Kyle could feel the exhilaration swimming through his eager hands.

Stan loved the view from up here, he had since that first timid experience between the two of them with Ken lingering in the background in curiosity. Kyle was a drooling mess, hair still a disaster from his sleep and being yanked around with a face beaming with stark color under his dark blindfold. Kyle's mouth was a contradiction to end them all, knowing well enough how damn venomous it could get. How it could hiss and bite and snap at anyone in his path. But here, it turned to velvet, rich and lush and made for personal comfort. Regardless of current circumstance, it made Stan think of the Kyle he didn't know existed until coming into this relationship: The one that loved to curl up against either of them on impulse in their beds and cuddle until he fell asleep. The one that hummed and nuzzled when his head was petted. The one that lit up when either of them got home and happily greeted them with a kiss and a content sigh.

"You can do better than that," Kenny purred, jostling Kyle a bit and giving an emphasizing jerk on his dick. Kyle shuddered, feeling him pressing his own covered erection against his ass, rutting and pushing himself into his hand time and again. Stan let out a soft sound as Kyle's tongue, the one that so fluidly slipped between annoyed with their antics and seductive, played around as much as he could manage in its confined space.

"There you go," he praised, increasing the pace just enough to throw Kyle off, make him snap out of their routine and try to find himself again in the frenzy of feelings.

Kenny laughed, pulling from yet another mark on his upper back. "Dirty dirty lil slut," he taunted, Kyle's breath staggering, lower half tingling. He was just overwhelmed, beyond stimulated with so many hands on him, so many growling tones and lingering "threats". He felt so helpless and vulnerable as tied fists continued to clench and his blinded eyes continued to yearn to see hungry faces staring him down. He was cornered, he was the object to be used. It was killing him in the best of ways, melting down his keen mind one cell at a time as they dripped down, down to puddle in the bottom of his skull and leaked to his tremoring extremities.

Kenny tongued over his lips, watching him carefully as he unraveled, knowing just how fucking crazy they were driving him. It didn't take much to coax an orgasm out of Kyle when playing this game on his own, he couldn't imagine how double the fun was treating him. Sharp ears caught the subtle start of a barrage of whimpers, felt his thighs begin to quiver under his working arm. A devious smile spread along his face, just waiting. Waiting for three telltale quick inhales before a small batch of silence.

He leaned closer to his compromised throat hearing one sharp breath. Two. Three.

He let go of Kyle's cock, ripping his hand far out of reach. Instantly, Kyle cried out in pure frustration. Caught on the pottering edge of orgasm, his chest heaved, almost in pain with how hard he was, how set to explode he was. Kenny gestured for Stan to step back and he did so immediately, Kyle gasping as his mouth was emptied, still feeling the stretch.

Kyle panted, trying to squirm for friction before being held still. "You fucking prick!" he wailed. Kenny just beamed, passing the bottle of lube up to Stan and motioning with his fingers. Stan nodded, moving to begin prepping his digits while Kenny whirled Kyle around, stroking his bangs back.

"Aw," he feigned a pout, brushing his thumb coated with pre-come over his lips. "Poor wittle swut," he mocked. "Did I upset you?"

Kyle bared his teeth, moving to bite his fondling hand before being slapped across the face again. "Piece of shit," he spat, that happy, fuzzy feeling gone for pure and utter vexation.

"Hmm not very nice," Kenny drawled, one hand gripping Kyle's chin to keep him still while the other fought to undo his jeans. He brought his cock out into the air, forcing Kyle forward and leaning into his face, loving the way his mouth twitched in aggravation. "Here's the deal, pretty boy," he husked, grinning at an infuriated snarl. "You take care of us first," he said simply, giving a light squeeze to his throat. "Got it?"

"Go fuck yourself," he snapped, yelping at his hand switching to the back of his head and forcing him to bend down, finding his face near another source of heat. He cursed, trying to fight away before a palm settled itself on his ass to keep him pressed forward.

"May wanna get started," Stan said calmly, hiking his hips up. "Or you're not getting prepped."

Again, another completely empty threat. That'd never fly and all three of them knew it, but it didn't stop Kyle from cringing at the notion. "You heard 'im," Kenny drawled, guiding him closer and pressing his dick against pursed lips. "Can make this so much simpler on yourself," he taunted. Kyle sneered, flinching as his pajamas were fully ripped from his calves, Stan forcing his legs to spread. He shuddered, feeling the two of them still clothed, knowing just how utterly exposed he was. "C'monnnn," Kenny urged, digging his nails into his scalp. Kyle groaned, shaking at a wet finger rubbing over his hole tediously.

A sharp slap against his ass prompted him to screech through his teeth. "Open up," Stan ordered, Kyle's head bowing and shaking until another harder slap forced his mouth to part in shock, immediately finding himself forced over the waiting cock. He twitched at a finger sliding straight inside and wriggling about, Kenny's bent knees trapping him by the arms as he nonchalantly laid back.

Kenny hummed, hand keeping Kyle up by his curls and guiding his mouth up and down his shaft, tingling with every strained grunt he shared. He leaned his head up, watching him with a smarmy smile as he so easily fell onto his skin time and again. "Lil natural-born cocksucker, ain't ya?" he taunted. Kyle growled, struggling to work his abdominal muscles to keep him from falling and unexpectedly deep-throating. He didn't want Kenny to have that privilege. Not after the bullshit he pulled, Kyle still lingering in the reeling effects of pre-orgasm, not at all aided by the second finger Stan was already able to add to the mix.

He just wanted touched, wanted some form of reward for not straight up kicking them both in the face. He showed restraint and he wanted his dues, goddammit. He whined as Stan hooked his fingers down, rapidly twitching his hand against his prostate and sending electrified jolts straight to his cock. Eyes scrunching, he panted each time Kenny raised his head to let him breathe, mind whirling. He was right on the brink, Stan was tortuously keeping him there and he had no doubts they planned to keep him there. Frustrated tears beaded his lashes, praying for once to not need added stimulation to just let go at long last. Some guys just had all the fucking luck, knowing from watching the other two go at it more than once that Kenny was one of them. He hated him for that, had an urge to punch him for having such a God-given gift of gratification.

He never had to suffer like this.

Stan watched Kyle react with every press inside, every stretch of his fingers apart from one another. He was a mess of needing their full attention and wanting to murder both of them, he and Kenny sharing a knowing smirk. Cracking his wrist, Stan clicked his tongue before bringing an open palm back onto his ass. Kyle screeched in surprise and Kenny moaned at the vibration, head falling back in pleasure. "Do that again," he purred.

Stan brought himself back down, Kyle unable to stifle his scream and going further along Kenny's cock. He felt Kyle's muscles tighten around his fingers, how his entire body quaked and fought against the painful sensations. Humming, he crossed his arms, tottering back against his prostate and slapping his opposite cheek with an echoing crack, Kyle completely torn with the contradictions. He shuddered, head falling limp in Kenny's hold as endorphins ravaged through him, vaguely aware of a third finger added and Kenny pulling him off his cock. He felt fuzzy, felt lost but safe, Kenny helping him turn his head to lean on the ground and continue to moan freely at Stan's work.

Kenny smirked, carefully moving to avoid his foot hitting Kyle's head and getting to his knees in front of him, beaming at Stan. "Look what you did," he winked.

Stan blinked, looking at Kyle's flinching halted, his moans sounding off-kilter. "Um. He okay?"

"He's great right now," Kenny snorted, petting through disheveled curls and grasping Stan's wrist to slowly pull out of him. He grunted, moving to gently heft Kyle's upper half up and rest against his chest. "Hey," he said softly, tapping his cheek with his first two fingers. "Come back." Stan moved beside him, cocking his brow at Kyle's boneless positioning. "Ky, c'mon, come back," he prompted, tapping a little harder.

Kyle blinked under his blindfold, taking a long, steadying breath, nestling down into the familiar scent of Kenny and latching onto it. He moaned as he slowly emerged back into stability like ascending through a pea-soup fog, head rubbing against his boyfriend and humming at lips on his forehead. "Need us to stop?" Ken asked.

Kyle shook his head and Kenny frowned in disapproval. "Kyle. Words."

He licked over his lips, coughing quietly. "No," he rasped.

Kenny sighed, looking at Stan, "Water. In the bag," he jerked his head to the side. Stan quickly fumbled over and dug through, not sure what the flying fuck was even happening. He snatched out a cold bottle and untwisted the cap, passing it off to Kenny who pushed it against Kyle's lips. "C'mon, drink," he said, tilting back with him, Kyle losing a few drops down the side of his mouth. Kenny gave Stan back the bottle and went to take off the blindfold, Kyle jerking back.

"No!" he bit, traipsing towards a child-level tantrum if he was denied his treat.

Kenny nodded, petting through his hair. "All right, all right. I need you to tell us what you want then."

Kyle grunted, knocking his head against his shoulder lightly, fuzziness fading and frustrations coming back with Kenny's guiding tone. "Touch meeeee," he whined, hating the scene breaking so suddenly and pushing his head against him time and again.

He smirked, kissing his temple. "Tell me the word."

"Strawberry, you fucking queer," he snapped, bashing harder against him, utterly out of patience and back to alertness.

Stan blinked, looking at Kenny watching him expectantly, slipping back into a devious demeanor. "Well? You heard him. Get back t' preppin'. Lil slut needs some cock, doesn't he?" he cooed.

Kyle sneered, trying to bite at him as Stan confusedly made his way back behind him. He looked back up at Kenny holding Kyle still against his chest and sporting a reassuring smile for him. "I'll explain later," he mouthed. Stan just nodded, looking at Kenny for approval before grabbing under Kyle's hips and forcing him back up, three fingers diving right back into place.

"FUCK!" Kyle yelped, forced firmly against Kenny, cheek smashed against his shoulder.

"Oh, don't act so shocked," Kenny hissed, pulling his head back and falling right back into step. "I'm sure you take way more than that all the time," he jeered. Stan shook his head subtly with a smirk, dousing his pinky in more lube to slide in with the others, watching Kyle's mouth drop and Kenny instantly slamming his own atop it, delving his tongue into the unsuspecting space. Kyle whimpered, trying pull back and just forcing himself further along Stan's twisting fingers. Stan clicked his teeth, feeling how much more relaxed Kyle's muscles seemed to be compared to before their momentary halt. A part of him was fascinated, the rest just puzzled.

He glanced back up at a sharp yelp from Kenny who backed from Kyle's mouth and glared. "The fuck did I say about biting?" he snapped, grabbing his chin and shaking him, watching Stan's fingers easily stretching him out and nodding to himself. "I think you're more than prepped," he decided, Stan taking his cue and pulling back out, wiping his fingers off on his pantleg. He snatched the lube as Kenny forced Kyle up onto his feet, shoving him towards his unkempt bed. Kenny pushed him down, bent over face-first into the mattress, barely allowing him the space to turn his head and breathe as he ran a hand along his back and ass. "Now," he cooed, slapping his ass a bit and watching him jolt. "We're gonna be real nice n' let you decide something."

Kyle blinked, Stan watching the wheels in Kenny's head turning and lust shadowing those bright blue eyes. "Either you take a lil voluntary ride on both of us oorrrr you get both of us. At once." Kyle's brows furrowed for a moment, confused by his emphasis until it took hold and his eyes widened. Oh. He did not mean one on each end.

Kenny subtly laughed to himself watching Kyle's mouth fumbling, speechless with an unanticipated option like that in front of him. Stan looked at him skeptically and he gave a sheepish shrug. He didn't expect that here, he wasn't going to let that happen here. But giving Kyle the choice like this and watching him work his way through considering it gave him a pretty high hope for a non-playing session in the future.

"Or, option three," he finally continued after letting Kyle stew in his predicament for long enough, "you beg all nice n' pretty for us. Just ask realllll nice for us t' make you our… blank," he grinned watching Kyle scowling.

"I'll ride," he spat.

"You sure about that?" he asked, wriggling his bound arms. "You ain't gonna have very good coordination. And that's just longer until you get touched. Think yer legs can keep ya goin without our help?" Kyle growled, shoulders pinching in irritation as Kenny motioned for Stan to go ahead and prep himself while he smacked Kyle's ass impatiently. "I'm waitin' on an answer, pretty boy," he leaned down and nipped at his lower back, possessively kneading his ass.

He shut his eyes, taking a shaking breath. Humiliating. Purely humiliating. More than being tied up, more than being face-fucked and fingered. More than anything else did this strike such a chord against Kyle's pride and bring an embarrassed tingle throughout his lower half.

He'd rather take the double penetration before this.

But he knew his leg muscles, and he knew how inept his coordination on top was without his arms tied. It'd be a painful, embarrassing ordeal with limited satisfaction for everyone outside of giving the two surrounding him a good chuckle. He groaned, sinking his head deeper against the mattress and frowning viciously. He knew Kenny well enough to know that he would call everything off if he didn't pick a goddamn option. He was perfectly fine with jerking himself off and leaving Kyle tied to writhe and whine when he didn't cooperate and never giving him the same satisfaction. Only one option left and he hated to take it. "Fuck me," he said flatly.

Kenny grinned, dramatically cupping a hand around his ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Fuck. Me," he said louder, teeth gritting.

Stan squeezed around his ass, shaking his head with a smirk. "And why do you want fucked?" he prodded.

"Don't," he growled.

"You ain't gettin' shit until you tell us just what you are," Kenny flicked him.

Kyle paused. Was this really worth it? He had a perfectly capable hand once he was untied and back in bed… His erection throbbed, body telling him to shut the fuck up and just do what they wanted before he goddamn lost his mind. He sighed through his nose, their hands continuing to touch him as they pleased. "A slut," he mumbled.

"Whose slut?" Kenny grinned, nodding at Stan. Kyle's jaw shook at a slick rod of skin rubbing over his hole, just barely pressing inside.

He whined, putting his forehead down on the bed and wanting to both buck back to impale himself and just scramble away, lost in the mix of scene and maddening lust. He let out a shaking breath as fingers wound themselves back through his curls, both behind him watching in pure anticipation as he tried to force down his trembling and strike a stance to not lose more face than he already was. "Your slut," he finally whimpered, arching back up with a yell as Stan pressed right inside. A bruising grip tightened around his hips as Stan waited a beat for a subtle nod before yanking him back time and again along his cock. His legs were shaking, his eyes were crossing, words escaped him in lieu of nothing but moans and screams.

"Good boy," Kenny praised, grunting as he hopped up onto the bed on his knees, Kyle barely taking notice as he was filled, the sound of slapping skin and his own ravening timbre distracting him from the world outside of Stan's dick. Kenny hummed, scratching at Kyle's scalp before pulling him back up a bit as he moved in front of him. He shoved a thumb between Kyle's teeth and yanked his jaw open, sliding his cock right back into place. Kyle coughed, nearly jerking back altogether until another brutal shove from Stan forced him to take him in.

Each thrust prompted a groan to be instantly stifled by the hot cock flooding his mouth. His fingers twitched, his dick pulsed, his back locked and his jaw stiffened. He winced, but relished at such complete loss between them both. It was a wonderful, scary thing to be so held in their hands, to know that every ounce of his safety, every breath he could take would be determined by their generosity and their attentiveness. It was a thing of wonder, one he couldn't fully comprehend. He knew he was safe, but there was always that lingering doubt that something could go wrong, one of them could miss a sign that he was in trouble, or he could zone out enough to not notice himself that something wasn't quite right. The danger and the thrill was something he fed off of, something that pushed him through his exhaustion and any hint of uncertainty. He had Kenny's voice, he had Stan's hands, he had fallbacks galore to assure him that everything was right with the world, that adrenaline and endorphins weren't the only things working in his favor here.

Happy wanderings came to a bit of a halt with another slap against his ass, jerking him back into attention. Stan glanced at Kenny, slowing for only a moment before permitted to proceed, Kenny lifting his head up off his dick and directing his blinded face upwards. "Losin' ya, pretty boy?" he drawled.

He hissed with a strong hit against his prostate. "Stop… calling me… pretty," he spat, groaning at a hand gripping his ass hard enough to bruise.

"I think you like it," Stan teased.

Nodding in agreement, Kenny chuckled, "Think you like bein' our pretty lil slut, dontcha?"

Kyle huffed, taking a quivering breath as his wraps rubbed against his sheets, fleeting between saying something or not for something so minimal distracting him. He let out a soft, pained whine under his breath and Kenny held up his hand for Stan to stop, knowing that sound right off and letting his eyes fleet around for what could be the problem. "Ah," he said to himself, noting the chafing fibers and motioning for Stan to pull out. "Flip 'im," he ordered, Kyle yelping as he was pulled around and up against Kenny's chest. Kenny moved him closer to the edge of the bed, nodding for Stan to step between his knees, legs bending and hips arching to enter him once more. Kyle leaned his head back with a moan, legs aching as Stan kept them spread. "That better, pretty?" Kenny teased, chuckling at his irritated rumble. He let out a quiet sound at Kyle's back pressing against his erection with each of Stan's pushes, arching against him.

Stan noticed and smirked, "I think you want both of us for him at once," he teased.

Kenny laughed, leaning down and nibbling on Kyle's ear, letting his fingers trace torturously along his stomach, just barely brushing a finger over his dick and making him gripe under his breath between grunts. "I do," he purred. "Wanna see 'im all filled up, wanna hear 'im scream. Don't you?"

"Mhm," he mused, snapping his hips forward and watching Kyle arch and gasp, both seeing him lost in their words and the promise they held. "Take some slow, long buildup, though."

"Oh, of course," Kenny agreed, Kyle beyond frustrated at their tones falling as casual as asking one another to run to the store for milk. "I think we keep lil pretty boy here. Work 'im up there. Leave 'im nice 'n tied with a toy or two t' stretch 'im out?" he grinned, biting Kyle's neck. Kyle whimpered and squirmed, head flopping from side to side and thighs throbbing from staying elevated.

Stan chuckled breathlessly, starting to reach his end and reach it fast between visuals of what could be and Kyle's compromised appearance. "I think he'd like that a little too much."

"Pretty things are made t' be spoiled," Kenny murmured, biting viciously on Kyle's neck and feeling him buckle with a cry.

Stan hissed with his tensing, head bowing and leaning forward to Kyle's turned head, panting in his ear. "Gonna be nice, and let you choose where," he purred.

"How generous," Kenny cooed. "Answer 'im," he pinched Kyle's waist.

Kyle shook his head stubbornly, "F-fuck off," he spat.

Ken snorted, "Still so stubborn? And after we've been so nice? M'kay then, I'll decide." He snatched Kyle's chin and ripped it forward. "Right where I told 'im we would, on his pretty. Little. Face."

Stan pulled out and gripped himself, Kenny moving Kyle to bend towards his cock. Kyle whimpered, trying to move aside, let Kenny deal with jizz in his goddamn hair. "Fuck," Stan breathed, grabbing Kyle's jaw on either side and pushing it open, Kenny watching, enthralled with a final shudder and a splash of white rushing towards Kyle's face. Kyle groaned, flinching and trying to close his mouth as he was doused, fighting to keep out a hungry moan at the salted taste overtaking his tongue. Stan gulped, relinquishing his jaw and placing his hand on the mattress on either side of his legs, trying to catch his breath and laughing. "Looks like a picture."

"My compliments to the artist," Kenny smirked, reaching and tugging his hair to bring him forward, snagging a quick kiss as Kyle tried to catch his breath and lick away dripping come straying towards his lips.

Kyle yelped as he was ripped back and tossed onto the bed on his tied arms. He groaned, feeling Kenny coming back over top of him and chuckling. "Don't worry, won't be like this long," he purred, grabbing his legs in an arm and hefting them together over his right shoulder.

He hissed as his body was folded to his dictation, Stan splashing lube in Kenny's hand as they stared at the chaotic mess they'd made. "That you saying you don't last long, ya fuckin' two pump chump?" he spat.

Kenny hummed, slathering his cock in the substance and lining up at his hole, watching his breath hitch. "Long enough," he purred, slamming down inside. Kyle's head flew back, mouth gaping with a scream as Kenny relentlessly thrust into his used form. He gulped, closed eyes tightening at light tingles flooding his trapped fingers. He knew Kenny wouldn't keep him like this more than a few minutes, but it was yet another sensation to add onto his building frustration.

Stan sat down beside him, smirking at his erection smacking against his belly, a trail of fluid dripping around his navel. "You're so damn close, aren't you?" he tutted. "Betcha wish more than anything you were getting' touched, huh?"

"S-shut up, Dickhead," Kyle sneered, head falling back again with a sharp thrust.

"Not nice, pretty boy," Kenny warned. "You keep that up and you won't get any until we both go twice."

Kyle bleated at the notion, head spinning and shoulder blades aching as they took on most of his weight. He was so fucking beyond on the brink, exhausted from being held at this level for so goddamn long. He never wanted this to end, but he needed it to before he broke down with nothing more to himself than tears and a hard-on. Said tears were already lingering, his muscles so strained and his body still reeling from a short sleep. He wanted to see again, wanted to touch and pull and scratch. He wanted coddled but fucked further down until he couldn't remember his own name anymore. A sharp slap rang across his ass and he shouted with pain, every victim spot already flushed with heat and stinging despite his endorphin-fueled high. It was a cacophony of anguish and pleasure, rage and lust, wanting to be freed and wanting to forever be in Stan and Kenny's holds.

Another hit had him flinching, nearly kicking Kenny's head until his arms tightened around his calves. "Gonna have t' tie yer legs next time, too, ain't I?" he panted, eyes darkened and his surroundings all but gone aside from Kyle and Stan. "Fuckin' just strap you down on a bed. Keep ya spread eagle so we can just come in, fuck ya 'n leave."

"Give him some ear plugs, too," Stan said off-handedly.

Kenny nodded excitedly, "Never know anyone was there 'til we were already deep inside," he purred, elongating a pointed thrust.

Kyle really fucking hated how amazing that sounded, how his stomach fluttered and his heartrate sped even faster. "Nothin' but a sex toy," Stan murmured, brushing his thumb through his mess on Kyle's cheek and rubbing it over his lips, pulling back just in time to evade a sharp bite. Kyle couldn't help himself, licking over the mess and moaning at their idea, completely lost in the throes of what could await him in the future.

His lashes fluttered, seeing himself in nothing but darkness all the time, hearing nothing but the echoes of his own body as he was pounded into without prompt. Only knowing who had him by the feel of hands and how they kissed along his body. Long, pure and loving pecks by Stan or wet and sloppy bodily worship by Kenny. Both branded him in their own way, staked a claim in him that he never wanted to gain back for himself. His body was theirs, theirs were his and one another's. Kyle let out another longing sound, sheer need rolling along his skin in eager goosebumps. There was a promise of more to be had in the future, even if it wasn't their suggestions of keeping him still. He wanted more of the three of them all at once, wanted his hands free so it was an absolute disaster of who was grabbing who where. He wanted more of their sweat, saliva, and come to mesh together in an intoxicating blend of pheromones and never-ending lust.

He wanted them, and he had them.

"Shit," Kenny broke through his dreamy wonderings, his legs being shoved off with a grunt and his head being ripped back up. "Open," Kenny demanded, fingers stroking himself and tugging his hair. Kyle let go of his stubborn acting in the mess of emotions flooding him, mouth dropping for him just in time to receive his treat, the fruit of his torment. He moaned, tasting both of them on his tongue and unable to help shuddering at the combination, letting it slide whorishly around his mouth before swallowing down what he'd been given.

He'd barely finished licking his lips before he was surrounded by them both once more, Kenny sitting him up and sliding behind him while Stan closed him in from the front. Kisses trailed along his neck and back, his skin prickling at their featherweight touch.

"Whaddya want?" Stan coaxed, both their hands rubbing along opposite inner thighs.

He practically sobbed out a breath, feeling his cock aching so much more without the distraction of another invading him. "I wanna come," he whispered with a cracking voice. "Please. Please."

"There's our good boy," Kenny commended, wrapping firmly around his still-moistened dick and jerking him off. Kyle moaned, almost too sensitive to handle as Stan snuck a hand down his angled hips and slid his fingers back inside of him, curling time and again against his prostate. He was shivering, drowning in their heat and starving for more of them all the same.

"Oh god," he whimpered, head leaning back to Kenny's shoulder and chest heaving. Simultaneous bites dug into his neck and shoulder and sent his high spiraling out of his control, three rapid gasps breaking before he could catch them and his hips arching as he came with a crying moan against his stomach and Stan's shirt. Their kisses turned slower as he started coming back down towards the bed, body shaking and eyes burning with unshed tears of relief.

Kenny let go of his dick as soon as he felt a sensitive flinch, humming and running clean hand up the mess along his torso, hooking his sullied fingers gently into Kyle's gaping mouth. A weak tongue flickered along the digits and cleaned them, feeling them slide out only to be replaced with Stan's tongue. They moaned against one another, Stan swiping through the taste before removing himself and letting Kenny take his place. Kyle couldn't help but smile, feeling both of them just as worn and satisfied as he felt, getting kissed and petted and adoring every attention-seeking moment.

Ken pulled back, pecking his nose before busying himself with undoing Kyle's binding. Stan carefully moved to pull off his blindfold, Kyle scrunching his eyes at the reintroduction of the lamp light and groaning quietly. He squinted, forgetting for a moment he'd been deprived of sight since he'd fallen asleep and struggling to come back towards it. As he came back into the real world, he could feel a sudden lurch in his chest. Elation seemed to be ripped out from under him, heart suddenly aching and comprehension beginning to blear in not-so-wonderful the way it had been their entire session.

"Almost got it," Kenny assured him quietly, petting his wrist with his thumb. "Stan, get the water and a few towels," he directed.

Stan nodded, carefully sliding out of bed and tucking himself back into his jeans, leaving the room to hit the linen closet down the hall.

Kenny sighed happily, kissing Kyle's spine. "You did so good," he complimented, taking the second set of wraps off from around his chest and arms, grinning proudly at the stark red marks left in their wake. He helped slide his wrists out of the loosened knot, hurriedly twirling the hemp into a shoddy loop and tossing it aside, knowing that it could be dealt with far later, especially with the way he realized Kyle was shaking. "Hey, hey," he whispered, pecking his neck. "You okay?"

Kyle sniffled, looking back at him and finally creaking open his eyes, Kenny's heart dropping at the bloodshot, glazed expression, the red circling under his eyes. "Kyle, holy shit," he said, turning him a bit more. "Were you crying?"

Kyle shook his head, leaning his coated face against Kenny's shirt. "No," he murmured, shuddering again.

They both glanced up at Stan coming back into the room with towels and a few more bottles of water, making way towards them and blinking at Kyle as he wetted a corner of cotton to pass to Ken. "Dude, did we hurt you?"

"No," he repeated, sighing exhaustedly as Kenny began rubbing down his face with the moistened cloth. Stan and Kenny exchanged a glance as Kyle's eyes hazily focused on his closet on the other side of the room. He felt that mist trying to seep back into him, pains meshing, losing their heated pleasantries and beginning to ache, body battling the rush of getting his wish with the disappointment that it was all over.

"Ky, keep talkin' to us," Kenny prompted as he cleaned out his hair, not quite used to this reaction after a scene.

Stan watched him cautiously as he wiped down between his legs. "Are you okay? Do you need something?"

Kyle shook his head, leaning back against Kenny again and shivering. "I'm cold."

"Okay, let's finish cleaning up first, okay? Then we'll get your blanket," Kenny tried, getting a small nod out of him. He reached to the nightstand and snagged one of the open water bottles. "Can you drink some of this for me?"

Kyle looked down at it and slowly brought up his hands to grasp at it while Kenny twisted off the cap for him. He genially lifted it to his lips, both watching as his eyes unfocused on the other side of the room again as he sipped. Stan shot Kenny a look and he bit his lip, seeing just as much confusion on his face as he felt. That didn't seem like a good sign.

They quickly finished cleaning him off and stripped down to their boxers, throwing their dirtied clothes off to the side of the room in a pile and looking back at Kyle still sipping away. He pulled the bottle back from his lips and shook his head, "Too cold," he mumbled.

Kenny nodded, taking the nearly-empty plastic from him and setting it aside. "All right, you don't need to have anymore. You want something warm?" Kyle nodded. Ken looked up, "Stan, can you make him some tea or something?"

Stan nodded, "Yeah, no problem." He moved to get up, stopped with a frantic grab around his arm.

"NO!" Kyle shouted, green eyes wide and frenzied.

"Whoa, whoa, okay, he's not goin' anywhere," Kenny yanked a baffled Stan back onto the bed, Kyle awkwardly trying to pull them together and nestle between the two of them.

"Um… Ken? What do we do?" Stan looked at him with concern.

Kenny chewed on his lip. "Grab the blanket, we're gonna just stay right here with 'im."

"Right," he agreed, letting Kyle keep holding onto his hand as he stretched with a grunt to clasp at the bundled, discarded quilt, snatching Kyle's pajama bottoms along the way. "Hey, wanna put these on?" he asked, passing them towards him. Kyle blinked, looking between them with anxious eyes.

"We're not moving," Kenny promised, petting his dampened hair and helping him maneuver to slide his pants on. Kyle groaned under his breath trying to shift his weight on his pained bottom, Stan sweeping back and helping lift his hips. They shared another concerned glance with one another before turning Kyle into the middle of the bed and laying him down, his fingers locked around their arms.

They slid down beside him, Kenny tossing the blanket over all three of them and Kyle burrowing, trying to pull them closer and sling their arms around him. They happily obliged, locking him in between them as he pivoted to hide in Kenny's chest. "Ky?" he breathed, kissing his forehead. "Wanna talk to us?"

Kyle grumbled, still too damn chilly and just wanting them to absorb him, get closer than they possibly could. He sniffled lightly, eyes burning still as he stared at Kenny's chest. He gulped, fingers curling time and again. "Sorry," he murmured.

They blinked, "Sorry?" Stan repeated. "What are you sorry for?"

Kyle couldn't seem to ground himself despite knowing where he was, despite the two of them holding him so sweetly. He began tearing up and sniveling, "Kicked a-and yelled?" he coughed out, placing his face into Kenny's chest and softly crying, not knowing why or how he got here and not having the slightest notion of how to stop it. He just needed this release, needed to let it pour and let it be known that he felt he did something so wrong.

"Oh man, he's droppin' hard," Kenny murmured under his breath as it clicked into place, rubbing his back and kissing his head again. "Hey, you were great," he assured him. "You played along so damn good."

He just whimpered, curling up more as the boys held him tighter. Stan looked at Kenny as he rubbed Kyle's shoulder. "Has he done this before?" he asked quietly.

"Not this bad," he sighed through his nose. "We got him good… he's not used to that level of stuff with two people I guess."

Stan winced, "I shoulda stayed out of this one probably, huh?"

Kyle snapped his head out of its hiding spot at the words, rapidly contorting around and clasping around Stan, digging his fingers into his back and shaking his head against him, tears smearing against his skin.

Ken laughed a bit, "I'd say that's a no. He'll be okay," he said, kissing along Kyle's tremoring back. "We got 'im." They looked down at Kyle muttering something against Stan's chest. "What, Babe?"

Kyle pulled back, reddened eyes looking between them timidly. "…Do you think I'm a slut?"

They both let out soft, breathy laughs, shaking their heads and pecking around his head and neck. "No, no, no," Stan promised. "You're not."

"Are you sure?" he begged.

"Positive," Kenny affirmed. "We love you so damn much," he added with another linger of his lips.

"Too much," Stan concurred, nuzzling down into his curls.

Kyle sniffled, not quite believing their words, but just needing them to stay where they were, to keep him protected from the brisk air of the outside world. He was so tired as he came back down from where they'd put him, part of him wondering if he'd been delusional, that he'd dreamed what'd happened. But there was no mistaking the reality of what was wrapped around him and sweet-talking him down from his distress. There was nothing else that this could possibly be other than comfort and love.

Burning eyes slipped closed with another shiver, his lips quirking in the slightest through his dismay as they shifted closer with his reaction. Stan and Kenny shared one last look before turning their attention back to lulling Kyle back down where he could rest, where his heart could stop pounding and his emotions could stop coiling. They weren't moving, they silently agreed, not wanting to be anywhere but here, all keeping one another safe and warm as the afterglows faded, the tears and kisses dwindled into heavy, content breaths, and the night marched on.

---

Stan hated morning with a passion. The light burned and reminded him, even on weekends, that work was approaching around the corner. Life was just too damn short to wake up.

He grumbled, sinking into the pillow beneath him and feeling an arm draped over his own. His nose scrunched a bit in thought. Was too toned to be Kyle's arm. He creaked his eyes open begrudgingly, seeing a still-slumbering Kenny across from him letting out quiet snores. He smiled a bit before glancing at the sheet beneath him, baffled as to why it wasn't his black sheets or Kenny's ugly pinstripes. He raised himself up a bit, quirking his brow as to why he and Kenny were alone in Kyle's room before he glanced to the floor, seeing the still-abandoned hemp curled up atop Kenny's bag. His breath hitched at the last memories he had before drifting off with the other two, grabbing Kenny's shoulder and shaking him.

"WHOA WHOA WHAT?!" Kenny snapped and jolted up, eyes unable to open in sync and arms aimlessly flailing as he tried to come into consciousness to see what the damn fire was about.

"Where's Kyle?!" he demanded.

Ken blinked, looking between them at the vacant space, brain riddled with gut-wrenching possibilities that broke him out of his drowsiness at once. "Shit!" he spat, both throwing off Kyle's quilt and tripping over themselves getting out of the bed. They rushed to the door and threw it open, Kenny making an automatic dash towards the living room with Stan right on his heels. They came to a screeching halt, panting and tremoring at Kyle casually leaning on the back of their sofa with a cup of coffee in his hand and dampened hair.

He turned hearing their noise and gave them a smile, "Morning."

Stan and Ken looked at each other in bewilderment before turning back towards him. "Morning?" Stan finally worked out.

"Did you know they still show Terrance and Philip?" he gestured aimlessly towards their television. "Was tryin' t' watch the news but well the remote is waaayyyy over there," he pointed to the coffee table. "So reruns it is." He took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head at the show playing before him. "How the fuck did we find this so funny?"

They stepped up slowly to either side of him, Kyle casually moving to lean his head against Stan's arm as he continued watching. "Uh… you okay?" Kenny asked worriedly.

He looked between them both and cleared his throat, nodding briskly. "Yeah. Was kind of hoping you'd forgotten, honestly. But I feel a lot better."

"You're sure?" Stan pressed. "You scared the shit out of us last night."

He cringed, "Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," Kenny assured him hurriedly. "Just you know, be sure that you're all right right now."

He nodded again, swaying to bump against them both. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a little… real last night I guess."

Stan snorted, "I didn't think we were that good of actors."

He chuckled, taking another sip, "Trust me, you're not. Someone needs to learn words other than pretty," he glared over at Kenny who smiled cheekily.

"Gorgeous."

"Drop it, McCormick," he warned, gently kicking his ankle and moving off Stan to lean back down on the couch, the other two following example. "No, there was just a lot happening. I kind of couldn't stay in one place for a good while it got… intense," he winced. "But in a good way," he assured them before a starting worry could overshadow their faces. "The drop was fucking awful but everything up until then was great," he shrugged.

Kenny smirked, bumping against him, "I can tell since you didn't put a shirt on after ya showered," he poked a plethora of marks along his shoulder, tracing to rope burns along his upper arm. "Pretty damn happy aren't you?"

"You kidding? I'm goin' swimming t' flaunt this shit; I don't care if it's only twenty-four degrees out there."

He laughed, leaning down and stealing a quick kiss. "So long as you're sure you're good."

He gave him an innocent shrug, "I'd be even better if someone could run to Tweek's and… get me a breakfast sandwich?" he smiled and fluttered his lashes up at him.

Kenny scoffed, "What am I, your biscuit bitch?"

"Croissant cunt, actually," he smirked. "C'monnnn I let you defile the shit outta me I deserve a goddamn ham and swiss."

He flicked him with a grin, "I'm tellin' yer mom yer breakin' kosher."

"Yeah because that'd get more of a rise out of her then when I told her I was a cocksucker banging a stupid redneck," he scoffed, hip checking him as he moved to step around them.

"Fine, fine," he waved him off, swatting both his ass and Stan's as he passed them to head back down the hall to change, the remaining two watching him before turning towards each other.

Stan sighed, "You're sure?"

"Stan, I'm fine," he promised. "It's really rare that I hit a backslide after the initial one. And if I do, Ken and I have a pretty decent system."

"Which is?"

"I cling to him like I'm a toddler and he gets me ice cream," he smirked, offering him a sip of his coffee. Stan took it with a sigh, Kyle watching him carefully. "What about you? You doin' all right?"

Stan dropped the mug back down, narrowing his eyes, "Me? Whaddya mean?"

He shrugged, picking at a fiber of the cushion beneath him. "Well… that was your first scene like that with either of us. At least… finished," he scratched at his hair. "You doin' okay? Did you like it?"

"Was great up until you had your drop," he shrugged. "But yeah, I'm fine. Question though, and I dunno if you'd know the answer since it's about you and you were kind of… gone."

Kyle blinked before his mouth opened in understanding, "Ah. When you hit me." Stan nodded briskly, handing him back his mug as he held out his hand and waiting impatiently for him to take a sip. "When I hit a certain pain threshold I kind of… leave. For lack of a better term," he winced. "I just hardcore zone out. I used to be way worse with it," he laughed. "Ken trained me down."

"Trained you," he said flatly.

"Yep," he popped his lips. "Taps my cheek and tells me to come back and I always do. Took a long-ass time to get me there but hey, it works. If he gets me down that means I can get laid still so, score."

Stan raised his brow, "What, he just leaves you if you don't?"

"No, you moron, but I can't talk so he won't fuck me. You know how he is. And you know how I am. You've seen me drunk. It's like that, but worse because I don't have a good pain indicator at that point. If he broke my arm I'd probably just be moderately uncomfortable."

"Jesus," he winced. "Sounds awful."

He shook his head, "No. It's great. Sometimes we just get that far and finish there. You should try sometime."

Stan narrowed his eyes, "Wait. With you or him?"

"Well, I meant with him when you bottom for him, but if you wanna try with me that's cool, too. Just you know…"

"Have Kenny there," he finished with a snort and an eyeroll.

Kyle shrugged sheepishly, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "You know that's never against you, right?" he winced.

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean it's not that neither of us don't trust you, not even close. It's just…" he paused, looking up for the words.

"It's just that I could kill you otherwise." He nudged him.

Kyle stared at him wryly. "I doubt it'd get that far. But Ken knows me like he does because of years of trial and error, ya know? He's hurt me more than once and just doesn't want it to happen again if it's avoidable."

He nodded, "Yeah no, I get it. That's why I'm not a fucking dick about it or whine or whatever. He's fucking intense as shit, though. Any chance you could tell him to not look like a goddamn dean when he watches us?"

He snorted, "Yeahhhh sure. Right after that I'll go tap dance my way down Broadway."

"Don't think that'll work out, but if you just shake your ass a little you could get all the gigs," he grinned, Kyle laughing and bumping back against him.

"I heard 'your ass' from Stan, so whatever it is, I agree," Kenny poked back out from the hallway in a haphazardly thrown together outfit and a charming smirk.

Kyle returned the expression, "He was saying he should be the only one who gets my ass and whoever pays for it."

Kenny pouted, walking over and flicking both of their heads. "I don't think so. But if you wanna start renting out I'm not gonna fight you."

"So, it's not okay if only Stan touches me, but it's chill if strangers hand you cash and rail me behind a dumpster?" he asked dryly.

He squeezed one of his ass cheeks gently and wiggled his brows. "These buns would make us rich."

"Speaking of buns, go get my fucking food," he bopped his nose with a firm finger.

He snorted, kissing his cheek. "Yeah yeah." He turned to Stan, "What 'bout you, Sugar?"

He shrugged, "You know what I like."

"Damn straight I do," he winked, stealing a kiss from him before turning on his heel and walking towards the door. "Have fun, kiddos," he waved.

"Can't without you, Ken," Stan rolled his eyes, snorting as he winked and clicked his tongue on his way outside.

Kyle shook his head, looking at him with a sly grin. "I bet we could have some fun without him."

Stan cocked his brow at his tone, making a quiet, content noise at Kyle's arm hooking around his waist and pulling them flush against one another. "Didn't figure you'd already be up for more."

He shrugged, "Well, not to last night's levels, no… But you need a shower. I happen to be an expert in assisting those in need of a good cleaning," he purred, gripping his hand and setting his mug on the end table as he led him down the hall towards the bathroom.

He laughed, kissing the back of his neck, "No offense, Babe, but you're not the cleanest of people."

Kyle turned to walk backwards with a charming smile, "Gonna be my second shower. And besides, I can clear your mind right up, that's as clean as it gets," he purred, leaning up and grabbing around his neck, drawing him down for a lengthy kiss as they blindly made way through the hall into the bathroom. Stan couldn't help but grin feeling Kyle so urgently working to slip his boxers off and get the water going while ravaging his mouth with a cinnamon-tinted tongue.

Bodies besmirched with one another or not, he supposed it mattered little for the three of them. Mistakes could fade. They could help one another get back on the ground, back to where the path was cleared of footprints set to be marred yet again with another trip. Skin could be washed and rope burns would heal with time. But what the three of them had needed no scrubbings or ointments. What they had was good, it was effortlessly kept in pristine condition, and as it remained locked in their secretive little world, it was purely perfect.