Sorry for the late review. Actually, this is usually how long it takes me to update, I JUST REALLY FUCKING LOVE WRITING THIS. Seriously, it's fun as shit. Usually I'm into ravishment fantasy stuff, but damn. Just- just damn. Does this mean I've matured?

Tired. I was so tired. My body hurt and my legs ached. There was a knot in my back that wouldn't pop no matter what way I stretched. It made me exasperated, because no matter how I moved, something ached. Pain always stretches out time, making it seem longer. I would know, I've experienced every type of pain imaginable. And let me tell you, if you haven't experienced falling on top of a large spike, you don't know what agony is.

It's hot, really hot. Not exactly in temperature, but in feeling. Blood rushes to your head and out of your body, raising your heart beat, exerting energy to stay alive. Even the tiniest of bruises and cuts are like this, even if they are on a smaller scale. I guess this is something that I really understand, if I don't know anything else. Talk to me about pain, and I'll be your biggest sympathizer.

But maybe I'm overreacting. Okay, I'm overreacting. Because I've experienced death, and this is definitely not death. This is just the ache after a day of strenuous exercise. Not that I'm not active, but I usually don't lift furniture all day, which was what I had done the day before. Eight dollars an hour to help a coworker move? Sure, I'm your man. Eight dollars an hour to move fifty tons of crap out of a house and up the stairs and down the stairs and through hallways and doorways and- well, I'm still your man. Eight dollars, eight dollars, that's what I told myself. And maybe it was worth it, but goddamn it makes you sore afterwards.

And it's never the same day, it's always only after you sleep. You sleep, feel wonderful after the exercise, and then wake up pissy and achy. Which is exactly what happened to me.

There's that odd point between waking up and becoming conscious when you're still slightly within dream world, and not quite all together. I could tell that my legs were sore, but other than that, I just stared at my blinds as I woke up. I was still tired, but I was antsy. I couldn't sleep anymore, something told me to wake up. And yet, I continued to lie in bed.

I rented out apartment, sixth floor, overlooking a shitty commercial district. I could see cars driving by, driving into the Walmart parking lot, pulling into the strip mall, getting out to eat in at Steak and Shake. It made me feel strange, a sort of cross between apathy and homesickness. They were petty, all so petty, but it was easy to say that from a distance, just looking at the cars. I knew that if I'd been acquaintances with the owners of those cars, it would be different. But I wasn't, and I traced my finger over the corner of my bedside table, looking down at them.

Denver wasn't South Park. I'd been living here a couple of months, but I wasn't used to it, not really. I was used to main street, Tom's Rhinoplasty, the Country Kitchen Buffet, and- well, that was about it. South Park was quiet and bland. Denver was loud and bland. Denver didn't have a Stark's Pond or a City Wok, but it had everything else.

People told me that I'd grown up missing out on life, that my small little hick town wasn't what the rest of the world was like. And that was true. But the rest of the world wasn't like South Park, and I guessed I missed it.

I stared out my window. Someone ran a red light. A woman dropped her grocery bags. Everyday life. No matter what city, it was always every day life all over again. Boring, so boring. I wouldn't understand why Craig liked it. Maybe I didn't like Denver all that much, but maybe I didn't like South Park that much more, either. It was like there was no in between. Or maybe I just hadn't lived there yet.

9:54 a.m.

Sighing, I turned onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. White ceiling, nothing special. But fuck, I wasn't an interior designer. I grew up as white trash; any place that didn't have cockroaches and month old empty beer cans laying around was fine to me. And besides, the only people who would see it besides me would be the people I brought home.

There hadn't been many. A couple here and there when I first moved in and started out with high expectations, but they slowly dwindled down. The most I had to remember of those weeks was a pair of underwear that some chick had accidentally forgotten. I didn't really have to think about it before saving them, hiding them in the back of my pants drawer, sometimes taking them out to masturbate with, but that was all. My apartment was fine.

Butters wouldn't care, anyway. I smiled.

It was true, though. He would notice, but not care. His home had always been neat and clean, since he'd done the cleaning (in fear of being grounded), but he wouldn't care about anyone else's home. It was just Butters, and that's what Butters did. Butters didn't judge.

No, no judging at all. He wouldn't care that I had a couple of dishes in the sink or some Chinese carry-out from last night still sitting out on the table. He might say 'O-Oh, can I help ya' out?' and fuss around, but not really care, just try to be helpful. And I could almost imagine him doing it. He would hover around in the doorway, smiling, looking slightly nervous and uncomfortable, trying to please. Maybe I would say yes, or maybe I would tell him to not worry about it, that wasn't important. I was thinking about him, not me.

Maybe I'd say yes, though, and Butters would brighten up and rush to clean for me. He would be good at it, and everything would be sparkling and organized in minutes. 'Do you need help with that?' he would say, because I'd feel bad for him working while I sat there and would have began throwing clothes into the laundry room. My answer this time would always be yes, and Butters would shift awkwardly over to me, testing the ground even though he knew I wouldn't bite, and start picking up clothes.

I looked around my room. There were a lot of clothes. Lots and lots of clothes and mess, and Butters would try to do too much at once. He would pick up too many shirts at once while trying to fix my lamp, and would trip or do some other clutzy thing. 'Let me help you up', I would say, and Butters would smile and blush and be so nervous. So unsure of himself. He needed me to tell him he was good.

'T-Thanks, Kenny'. But I wouldn't let go of his hand. 'D-Do you need somthin' else?' So confused and naïve and Butters.

'Yeah.'

He wouldn't make any noise, but I knew I could hear him stammering in his head as I put his hand on the front of my pants. His face would be so red, so incredibly sexy since this wouldn't have been a new thing by then. He would be still for a while, heat radiating off of his face as I looked down at him before he would finally move his hand into a position that fit around my dick.

Yeah, yeah that would feel good, just like that, just like how I was doing now.

'I thought you wanted to help.'

'I-I do.' His voice would be quiet.

It was just a small reminder, to tell him to stop fantasizing, that it was actually happening and I wanted him. That would make him move fast, too fast, and he'd awkwardly unbutton and pull down my pants, scratching me a bit, but I wouldn't care, because his hand was around my erection in less than ten seconds.

Shit, it would have to feel good, so good. I've gotten plenty of blowjobs, but it was just always better than before. My breath hitched as I moved my hand down my pants to start stroking myself, just like Butters would. He would be mediocre at it. The heart was there, but he was too excited to do a great job.

He'd mumble under his breath as he kneeled down and grabbed at me, too scared to kiss and lick as if it'd be an intimate statement (if he did have feelings for me, he wouldn't say so, he didn't want to lose me), but just pump me to full hardness before taking me in his mouth. He'd try to go deep throat too soon and too fast, and gag, and I would grab his hair and pull him back.

'Calm down'

And oh I would see that he could just die from embarrassment. But he'd listen. Butters was good at listening. Butters would nod his head and go slower, taking in the head of my penis first, licking around it before moving his head back and forth slowly, taking in more of the length as he went. He would feel awkward with his hands not moving, so he would set them in his lap. Or maybe it was just an excuse to rub himself through his jeans, because I knew I would see him getting turned on too.

He would shift his thighs together, resting his hand suspiciously close to his crotch while he blew me, embarrassed to be aroused, as if he knew I couldn't tell. My earlier words would have worn off, and also from his own erection, he would become increasingly needy, bobbing his head quicker and sucking harder and lightly grabbing the back of my thigh. Tentative. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad.

My hand would be back in his hair again, pulling him away. Spit dripped down his chin, his eyes slightly hazy, confused, and I would kick his hand away and press my bare foot lightly against his jeans.

'You like this,' I'd say, gently moving my toes over the fabric that separated our skin, 'you fucking love this. You wanted to come over here so bad, you wanted to suck my cock so bad. 'I just want to clean, Kenny'. That's bullshit. You're not innocent and you know it, you're not fooling anyone, you're not fooling me.' I'd emphasize by pressing my foot down. He'd gasp and tremble, looking up at me, needy and embarrassed and nervous and shy. My dick would be throbbing just as it was now, but this was fun, and I'd keep talking. 'I bet you think about it a lot, don't you. Don't tell me you don't. You want me to fuck you so bad that you get butterflies in your stomach from thinking about it. You want me to cum all over you, you fucking little whore. Do you want me to bend you over the coffee table and screw you hard? To ram my cock into you over and over and over?' I'd continue to push my toes against his erection, and he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

'Yes!' He'd say a little too loudly, that same worried expression on his face. 'Yes, Kenny! I-I want you to all of that and make me go crazy! H-Hamburgers, fuck me!'

No self restraint, Butters would never have self restraint. I graoned, my eyebrows furrowing as I jerked on my dick, moving my hand faster as I imagined throwing Butters down onto my bed, right where I was laying now. I didn't even need vibrators or a gag, I would do him hard and natural with nothing special at all, because Butters was my goddamn kink, Butters was my fetish because he would do whatever I wanted.

I would grip his thigh and move it so high up and hold his head down as I thrust into him hard and forceful and my hand was moving so fast and I think I felt precum but I couldn't tell because I was just thinking about how fucking tight he would be and how good it'd feel to pound into him and hear him making noises, begging noises of 'Kenny!' and 'S-Shit!' and I'd grab his shoulders and lean over so that my weight was on my knees and use all of it as momentum to screw his brains out and fuck I couldn't see straight I was cumming cumming oh fuck it was hot my legs hurt my hand ached and Butters was moaning and shit!

My hips spasmed as I squeezed my eyes shut, moving my hand fast as I came. It was long and drawn out and everything felt like hot pressure. Building building building and then I hit climax. My breath caught in my throat and my muscles clenched up, jizz dripping onto my hand. Oh fuck, Butters. Fuck.

I panted and relaxed against the sheets when I finished, the feeling of strenuous activity washing over me. It felt good. I didn't feel sore. It just felt good.

10:15 a.m.

I wanted to see Butters.

He was wearing the coat I bought him and smiling in the cold.

"H-Hi Kenny, I didn't know if you were gonna call me when ya' got here so I've been waitin." His glasses made his eyes look bigger.

"Why would you think I wouldn't call and make you stand outside like that? You must be so cold." I smiled back and opened the door for him. He hopped in and shivered, rubbing his hands together. "Here."

I grabbed his hands and took off his gloves, pulling his hands up next to the heating. I could hear him almost stop breathing. He didn't look at me. "Sure i-is cold," he murmured, and I temporarily forgot who the one wearing the hood was (which reminded me to pull it down).

"Just wait until the trick-or-treaters go out in this, they're going to freeze their Frankenstein asses off."

He laughed and buckled his seatbelt. "W-Why it sure is bad that Halloween will be so cold and all this year for all those little kids and stuff."

"It was always cold when we went trick-or-treating, there was snow on the ground. They can handle it. …You don't mind if I pick up some stuff from the gas station before we go to my place, do you?"

Because yeah, he was coming over. It wasn't a big deal. I was his friend. Friends went to each other's houses all the time. We did when we were kids, and it was just the same now. The only difference was that now, the only reason I wanted him over was so that I could have him sit on my bed where I had just masturbated thinking about him a couple hours earlier.

"Why of course not Kenny, you get whatever you need!" He smiled, and then we talked. Or, at least, he talked.

Whoever says that women talk more than men are ignorant, because all of the boys I've known in my lifetime have never shut up. Whether it was my father ranting about the economy or Cartman being racist, to Kyle bitching about Cartman and Stan trying to persuade me to join his cause, I was the only male I'd ever known to not love to hear my own voice. Except for maybe Craig, but Craig was always the exception, and Butters was not.

Butters talked about school and people and movies and it always went back to his parents. I offered little in return, but that was just me. That was just Kenny, Kenny didn't talk much, Kenny listened. Butters was lonely.

"Hey man," I said, pulling up to a Seven Eleven, "I'll be right back, I just gotta grab some stuff." He nodded and sat back when I turned off the car and stepped out.

The bell ringed as I opened the door. A woman was buying some gum and beef jerky at the register, and I put up my hood. I was used to these sorts of trashy places and people, and I wanted to distance myself from them. Grabbing a bag of chips and cereal, I went up to the register and set the items down.

"6.99, would you like a bag?" The man behind the counter had a mustache, the kind that looked like it was sweeping when moved back and forth. I shook my head and pointed to a pack of Camels behind him. They keep all the good stuff at a gas station behind the counter because of people like me. He grabbed the pack and rang it up. "10.15. Bag?" I nodded my head and moved to get my wallet, but paused.

"This too, sorry."

"15.39, now. Anything else?" You never expect people to be rude in retail, but then again, a Seven Eleven wasn't exactly retail. I shook my head no and handed him a twenty. He counted my change back, and I stuck the cigarettes and condoms into my back pocket, carrying the chips and cereal out with me.

The wind rustled my hair even underneath my hood, and I made a weird sort of exhale sound when I hopped back into my car. Butters took the chips and cereal, and held them in his lap.

"I didn't know you liked Raisin Bran."

"I don't."

And nothing else was said.

I opened the door for Butters when we walked into my apartment complex, waited for him to enter the elevator first, and unlocked the door and held it open for him when we finally made it to room 613. And he acted exactly as I thought he would.

He hovered near the front door when we both walked in and I moved to put away my small amount of groceries. I picked up some crap and threw it in a corner, having not bothered to clean much before I decided I wanted him over, and Butters continued to stand with his coat and shoes on in front of the door. I looked over at him while bending down to pick up a shirt.

"You can take off your coat and stuff you know, it's just a shitty apartment, don't be so nervous."

Butters rubbed his knuckles together, embarrassed by bringing attention to himself. He shifted a bit before cautiously unbuttoning his coat, holding it awkwardly, as if I literally meant for him to just take off his coat and to not get comfortable.

"Look," I said, straightening up as I finished throwing away pop bottles into the garbage, "I'm not a rule sort of guy, but the rule is that you've gotta calm down." Although I said it with a warm tone and face, Butters laughed nervously, so I took his coat from him and set it on the kitchen table. "Are you hungry?"

"N-No." He finally took the hint and took off his shoes. The process was somehow fascinating and sexual, and I watched as he looked down at his feet, stepping out of each shoe as he pulled it off. Butters.

"-Oh. Well, then." I shook my head slightly and flopped down on the couch, scooting some magazines and pillows out of the way so that I purposefully made only enough room for him to sit right next to me. "Do you want to play Gamesphere?"

His eyes widened. "Y-You have one?"

"Yeah, we only got one like a year after everyone stopped playing them, so I just kept it all this time. It's still fun, wanna play?" And while that was the truth, I didn't mention we only bought it so long after it came out because we were poor as shit and my dad had become addicted to Heroin Hero.

Butters nodded enthusiastically, and didn't seem to debate on whether or not he should sit next to me, and just sat down, our legs touching as we engaged in pixilated battle. He got really into it and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he held his breath and mashed the keys down, yelping when he lost a life, the light from the screen reflecting off of his glasses. Even though I couldn't manage to stay alive more than a couple of days when I was younger, I was always good at video games, and after a couple of rounds of sniping down Butters character, it was clear that I would remain the victor.

We switched games a couple of times, even daring to go and play one as old as Chinpokomon, before getting bored. Having calmed down, Butters opened up and became more relaxed, helping himself to the chips that I had bought earlier. We watched TV and talked and did nothing in particular, because I hadn't had anyone over in a while, and I wanted Butters. I wanted him in my bed, and if conversation was what it took, I'd do it, even if we mostly just played games.

"You shouldn't smoke, Kenny." I had gotten Butters to sit on my bed by bringing out my old yearbook and motioning him over. I had gotten up, but he had just decided to stay, and a cigarette just made everything even better. "W-Why you aint gonna get nothin from it but burnt up lungs."

"Have you ever smoked?" I asked, and offered a cigarette to him, but he straightened up and shook his head. "Then you don't know what I get from it. Besides, I pay for it, no matter what the cost. Quality over quantity. It makes life better, even if I die a couple of days earlier, it was life well lived instead of mediocre and drawn out. I bet you do something that's not that healthy, too."

Butters looked away at the all, his eyes distant, and I knew he was thinking about what it was that was his addiction. I didn't have the slightest clue, but bringing it up made me want to know. I didn't push it, though, and sat up from my reclining position on the couch. "It's two, I should probably take you home. You have work tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah but it's nothin important or anythin like that." He wanted to stay. But it was dangerous. I couldn't have him staying over longer. I didn't buy the condoms for that night.

"No dude, I don't want you getting fired. Besides, I'm sure you're busy." I stood, sealing the situation, and he looked a bit sad as he stood as well. Stretching, I finally popped the joint that had been aching all day. He made a face, but didn't comment, and picked up his coat.

We road the elevator down and walked out to my car, the radio playing in place of words. I couldn't tell if Butters was disappointed or just tired. A bit of both, most likely. He looked out the window, and when I glanced over at him, I could see his face in the reflection.

He was so much older now. We both were. He had matured, but was not mature, and neither was I. We might have been adults, but we were nowhere near what that really meant. Kids, we were just kids. We were in the fourth grade and were playing Mysterion and Professor Chaos. We made stupid jokes and played with toy cars in front of South Park mall while our parents got into trouble inside. We were Kenny and Butters. I had never realized it before.

It made my chest hurt.

I wasn't emotional, I never had been, but I was suddenly struck with nostalgia and fear. All my life I had wanted to grow up and get away from my home life, out of South Park, make a new name for myself. But that meant throwing everything away, and going out on my own. There wasn't a mom that I could run back to or a Stan and Kyle and Cartman that I could sleep over with when times were rough. No more group assignments or recess or anything. I wasn't a kid, but I wasn't an adult. I was both. Stuck. Everything changed. Butters had changed.

Butters was South Park and he had changed. He was older and smarter and more aware. He lived in a dorm and went to college. And I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to fuck him so bad. And maybe I missed South Park, but I couldn't go back, not even if I enlisted the help of two Trekkies to make me a time machine, I couldn't go back. It would never be third grade again, or fourth grade, or even high school. But here was Butters.

"T-Thank you, it was fun, Kenny. You're a really nice guy." He'd unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. I got out with him and closed the door, walking him up to the front steps. "And you're right," he said as he unlocked the door, "I have a bad addiction too. Quality over quantity, but you have to pick somethin that doesn't hurt you back, because then you're just losin no matter what. Please don't smoke no more." And he hugged me and I hugged him back and it wasn't even sexual.

Review if you were expecting sex and then wound up getting angst. Yes, I am a cocktease~ (don't worry, the main plot is still sex and only sex)