(Kyle)

(Like fire, hellfire

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin)

I felt like my skin was coated in ice.

"S-Stan…" I shivered a bit, tongue tripping over my words, "I'm so c-cold…"

I could barely see him next to me. He hadn't turned on a light when we walked into the room, and after shutting the door the darkness grew pretty thick. I could barely make out Stan's long frame lying on the mattress next to me, the outline of his face pointed in my direction. The pale comforter felt soft beneath my body, so soft that I felt like at any moment I was going to sink into it and disappear into the fabric. I was laying on my back, my shoulders quivering from the cold, and somehow my head had managed to find a pillow—a squishy, feathery thing. Token's parents probably spent more on this guest bed then my parent's car was worth when it was brand new…

"You're cold?" Stan's voice cut through the silence, slow and thick like was talking with syrup in his mouth.

"F-freezing." My entire body shuddered as I spoke, the muscles in my arms and legs giving particularly violent spasms.

Loud house music was still making the door vibrate in its frame, but I heard Stan's voice clearly as he spoke:

"Come here." It was more of a command then a request.

I felt Stan's fist clench the front of my shirt, and then he was pulling me onto my side, pulling me closer to him. I rolled off my back complacently, sliding across the comforter as best I could, but my legs and arms were moving sluggishly. I felt the bed rise and lower as Stan shifted across the mattress, his body growing closer to mine. His hand was still holding onto the front of my shirt, but then he let go, reaching around, his fingers suddenly moving onto my back. Then he was pulling me close against him, and my cheek was pressed against his chest, and two warm, strong arms were wrapped around my torso, holding me still. We lay like that a few moments, and I couldn't help but sigh in contentment at the body heat he was giving me. I shut my eyes after a few seconds, feeling the rise and fall of Stan's chest, pulling up my arms to tuck them between us in an effort to get warm.

"Kyle…you're burning up." Stan pulled away slightly, and even though I couldn't really see him, I could imagine the look of concern he was probably giving me.

"No." I shook my head, refusing to look up at his eyes.

"Yes, yes you are." Stan pulled away even more then, propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at me. Yeah, this time I could make out his blue eyes even in the dark…he looked worried. Like I was telling him something that couldn't possibly be true.

"Stan I'm cold…" I protested, trying to scoot closer to him. It was perfect when he was laying with me, he was so warm and—even though my head was heavy and my eyes were tricking me—I wasn't worried when I was with him. I didn't care about anything…even though I knew there was a lot to be worried about. Kenny disappearing, me dragging Stan away from his football buddies, Cartman getting mad at me, Cartman trying to be nice to me, Cartman breaking a bottle when I left him…

"Come here." Stan's voice was softer this time.

He sat up, reaching out with his hands to pull me up as well. I groaned in protest, wanting to fight him and bury myself into the bed, but it wouldn't have mattered. Stan was stronger than me—and he wasn't afraid to prove that. Before I really knew what was happening, I felt fingertips brushing against the bottom of my stomach, right above the top of my jeans. Stan was kneeling in front of me, and then he lifted my shirt above my head, casting it to the carpet after a few quick tugs. I wanted to cry out in pain as I felt the air hit my bare chest, and immediately my skin rippled with goosebumps, but I bit my tongue in an effort to be quiet. I didn't want Stan to freak out and think I was really sick…even though I didn't really know what was wrong with me. Stan's hand was on my chest then, pushing me down so that I was laying on my back. I complied eagerly with that, dropping my head back down onto the pillow, the comforter feeling as soft as velvet against the skin on my back.

Then I felt fingers working the button on the front of my jeans.

"Wha—?" My eyes shot open in alarm, "What're you d-doing?"

"Taking your clothes off." Stan shrugged, his hands freezing over my zipper.

"But…I could've d-done that…" I was staring at him now, staring at his fingers placed lightly right over my groin.

"No." Stan shook his head, and I think he might've been grinning, "You're barely conscious. I'll undress you and then we can get under the blankets."

Oh. That made sense.

"Yeah…ok." I nodded, still unable to take my eyes off of him.

Stan's fingers worked quickly, unbuttoning my pants and then yanking the zipper down. He gripped my jeans by the hip pockets then, sliding them down over my legs. I tried to help him by kicking the fabric off, but it wasn't much use. He pulled my pants off easily, throwing them onto the ground right by my shirt. By that time I'd felt like I'd been dropped into the middle of the tundra, I was so damn cold. The dark boxers I was wearing were pretty thin, definitely not enough to protect me at all from the freezing air. Stan kneeled in front of me, and then he was pulling his own clothes off. First his shirt, and then his own jeans, both of which he threw to the floor as well. As soon as he peeled off his shirt I could make out the outline of his light skin, the muscles of his chest and abdomen casting shadows across his body. I could still hear the thumping music, but it seemed to have faded a lot…whether that was because the party was finally beginning to die down or because I was suddenly a lot more focused on what was happening in front of me, I couldn't tell. Either way, the noise didn't seem as distracting anymore.

Stan reached forward and grabbed the edges of the blankets. Pulling, he yanked the fabric out, opening up so that I could crawl under them.

"Thanks." My voice was muffled as I slid my body under the comfort. The blanket felt heavy against my body, almost smothering, but I enjoyed the sudden warmth so much I didn't care.

"Better?" Stan asked as he moved under the blanket next to me.

"A little." I nodded, wriggling my body so that I was buried even deeper under the sheets and comforter, "I can't s-stop shivering…"

"I can fix that." He sounded so sure of himself. But that was Stan, always so confident.

His arm reached out, easily wrapping around my waist, and then he pulled me against his body again. This time the skin of his bare chest was hot against my back, and his arms were encircling my waist, hands resting lazily on the mattress. He was so incredibly warm, I couldn't help but sight in contentment as he held me against his body.

"Better?" He asked again, lips moving against the back of my neck.

I shuddered in response, feeling a tingle shoot from my neck down to my toes.

"Am I tickling you?" Stan smiled, his voice teasing.

"A little." I admitted, "Quit m-messing with my neck!"

"Oh, have I found a sensitive spot?" Stan's grip on my waist tightened as he leaned forward, pressing his lips on the side of my neck, right behind my ear. I struggled against his hold, trying to pull away, and he laughed, holding me still. He flicked out his tongue then, just barely grazing my skin, and my whole body quivered like I'd been struck by lightning.

"Wow, you are really ticklish there." My best friend finally, relented, pulling away. He sat up, propping himself up with one elbow, staring down at me with inquisitive eyes.

"Hey…you've been my super best friend for fifteen years." Stan said, still looking down at me.

"Yeah?" I nodded, not really sure where he was going with that statement.

"Well…why the hell didn't I know you were so ticklish there until now?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow into the air.

"I dunno…" My words weaved together, probably from the alcohol. Or something else maybe.

"Are you ticklish anywhere else?" Stan's lips split into a wicked grin, his eyes narrowing.

"Not gonna tell y-you…" I shook my head, giving him a drunken, defiant smile.

"Guess I'll just have to find out my own." Stan's voice was quiet, like he was testing the water.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at his dark form.

"Go ahead." My words came out like a challenge.

"Ok." Stan reached across my chest, drawing his fingers lightly against the skin over my ribs. His fingertips felt soft, like they were barely touching me, and the sensation was soothing. I closed my eyes, but my body did not shake. It felt…nice. But not ticklish, definitely not.

"Try again." I said, my eyes still shut.

His hand moved south, fingers then hovering over my belly button. I shook my head in response. Again he went further down, fingers tracing over my hip bones, and still moving downward. With one hand he traced the muscle lining the inside of my thigh, and when he reached my knee his fingers traveled down over my calf muscle and ending at my ankle. He looked up at me questioningly, and somehow I was able to make out his navy blue eyes through the darkness.

"No." I shook my head again.

"Hm." Stan was looking down at me thoughtfully.

He crawled over me then, his arms on either side of my body, eyes still gazing down at me intensely. I stayed as still as possible, my breathing becoming shallow as I was suddenly staring up at Stan's face.

"You're only ticklish on your neck." He said quietly. He had one knee placed between my legs, and both his forearms were placed on either side of my shoulders. He wasn't touching me at all, and that was almost worse than if he had been.

"Yeah." I didn't know what else to say. I didn't trust myself to say any more.

He stared at me for a few moments longer. Then he leaned forward, so close to me. He was careful, so steady and sure of himself, when suddenly his lips were on the side of my throat, and my hands were clenching the sheets to keep myself from making any noise. His lips were surprisingly soft, and they moved against my neck gently, slowly. He flicked his tongue out, barely touching my skin, like he was tasting and testing, trying to figure me out. I turned my head to the side then, baring my throat, arching my head back so that his lips could move as they pleased. He took me up on my offer, drawing his mouth downward in light, butterfly kisses, his lips barely ghosting over my skin. Parting his lips, he bit down gently on my collarbone, so softly that I wanted to cry out, scream at him to bite harder.

"Am I bothering you?" Stan's voice was strained, like it was difficult for him to speak.

"N-no…" My own voice was quiet, and once again I found myself trying to stay as motionless as possible, thought I didn't know why. Somehow I felt like if I moved I might trigger a cascade.

"I'll stop if you want me to." His mouth was still on my collarbone, voice coming out as a low, reluctant murmur.

I didn't know what he was doing to me. I could see him above me, could feel his mouth against my throat, but somehow none of it seemed real. My eyes, my skin must've been tricking me.

"No." I shook my head, "Don't stop."

My eyes drifted to the side as his lips began to move up from my collarbone. As his mouth traced my throat, I could make out the hazy outline of his hand next to my shoulder, knuckles white, fingers digging into the sheets. Then his tongue was moving across the line of my jaw, and I could see how tense the muscles in his arm were, rigid and uncomfortable. Finally Stan's lips moved up over my cheek, tugging at the corner of my mouth. I turned my head towards him, our lips brushing clumsily against each other, and then Stan pulled away. He looked down at me with serious eyes. We stayed like that a few moments, me laying on my back, Stan's hard body hovering only inches above my own, his knee still placed between my thighs. Still not touching me though…still trying so hard not to touch me. And then he was leaning forward, and my whole body tensed up, like I was preparing for an attack.

He pressed his mouth against mine.

I…I didn't know what I was expecting. Maybe something soft, like when a girl kissed me. But it wasn't like that at all.

He was hard, all of him was hard. His lips pressed up against mine with such force I couldn't help but gasp, sucking in a sharp breath, and he was clever enough to steal that opportunity. I felt his tongue before anything else, probing into my mouth, and all I could do was close my eyes and tilt my head back, allowing him to explore my mouth. Then his chest was pressed against my own, and he was so firm, so sturdy, I felt like I couldn't possibly have moved him if I tried. My body writhed beneath his own, and then our hips bumped together…Stan stiffened at that, his body going still, but his mouth remained at work. Teeth biting against my bottom lip, he pushed his hips forward, and then my face grew hot. His thigh was pushing between my legs, and the sudden friction was making my legs feel weak. On top of that, my bare stomach was sliding against his own, and I could feel Stan's hard abdominal muscles hot against my skin. He was warm, hot even. So hot it almost burned to touch him…but I couldn't help myself. My hands acted on their own, moving upward, wrapping around his waist. I pulled him against me, pulled our bodies together, closer together then I think they'd ever been. There was heat between my legs then, and I think Stan must've noticed, for he pressed harder with his leg, his thigh firm against me, making me squirm with what felt like a mixture of pleasure and agony.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, his body on top of mine, our mouths locked together. Eventually I suppose we separated, though, I didn't really remember that actually happening.

All I knew was that, at some point, Stan relented and allowed sleep to claim me.


(Stan)

(I can feel you all around me

Thickening the air I'm breathing)

When I opened my eyes, the light seeping in through the blinds over the window made my head hurt. I knew I had drank a lot—a lot of beer, at that—but shit, I didn't expect to be so hung over. All I wanted to do was bury myself in the thick blankets that Token's parents probably spent a fortune on. I had no idea what time it was…probably around noon, maybe later. Who the hell knew… After reaching around with a lazy hand, I threw the edge of the beige comforter over my face, trying desperately to escape the harsh glare of the sun. it was eerily silent in the house. Someone must've finally decided it was time to turn the music off…it'd still been playing when I drifted off to sleep, and who knew how long it went on for. All I knew was that my ears felt fuzzy now, probably because the house music had been so damn loud last night. I probably killed off a few thousand brain cells between the alcohol and the horribly loud noise. Shifting in the bed, I felt something warm and still laying next to me.

Kyle.

Wait.

Judging from the amount of bare skin I was feeling, my best friend wasn't wearing much…oh fuck.

I…I had thought it was only a dream. It wouldn't have been the first. I'd dreamt of Kyle before…usually in situations that were incredibly confusing to me. I never really knew how to interpret them, only how to deal with them when I woke up…which was even more confusing. If Kyle knew how I warped him in my dreams…could he even look me in the eye again? I mean, they were only dreams, right? They didn't really mean anything…Kyle was smart enough to realize that. He'd probably just tell me they were brain static or something…then he'd laugh as I explained to him that in all my dreams the best part was hearing him cry out my name—

Ok. Probably should keep that to myself.

Except I didn't. Not last night anyway. No, last night I was dumb enough to act out a few of my fantasies.

And, judging from the sounds Kyle was making when I sucked on his neck…it seemed like maybe, just maybe he had enjoyed himself just as much as I had. What did that mean? It made my stomach roll with giddiness just to consider the possibility that…he liked it? Did I make him like it? Would he want more? Did I want more? Wait…that wasn't even a question. Of course I wanted more. It took all of my self-control last night to stop myself from…from doing something Kyle probably wasn't ready for. Definitely wasn't ready. I should…definitely should get that thought out of my head because fuck, there was no way I could already be thinking of…of something like that with my best friend.

God…I was so fucking stupid.

Or maybe not. Maybe this was a long time coming…or maybe I just ruined what was possibly the most important relationship in my life.

Kyle stirred then, his richly red hair splayed out across the pale pillow. It was interesting to watch him wake up, like watching a disaster occur in slow motion. I wanted to reach out, wanted to help, wanted to stop the chaos before it happened. But there was nothing I could do. Eyelids blinked open, and then hazy emerald eyes were darting back and forth, confusion filling them. Kyle turned on his side slightly, looking at me over his shoulder, the sheet falling off of him to reveal a pale, bare chest. I had hoped he wouldn't panic, but this was Kyle…so of course as soon as we made eye contact, he began to dissolve. Immediately his face reddened, and he went so very still it almost looked like he was ready for a battle. He looked so scared…I wanted to reach out and pull him against me like I did last night, but I wasn't dumb enough to attempt that. Not right now anyway.

"Hey." I tried to smile at him, but I think it came out crooked and fake. He'd be able to see right through it.

"Hey." Kyle's response was quiet, and his eyes fell away from mine.

"I…uh, how are you feeling?" I tried to keep my voice smooth. Failed.

"What?" Kyle's eyes darted back up at me, blinking, "Oh…ok I guess. My head's killing me…"

"Yeah, you were acting funny last night." I nodded, unable to tear my eyes off of him, even though he looked like he'd rather look at anything else but me.

"I was acting funny?" Kyle snapped at me, that fire that I found so attractive suddenly entering his voice. Now he was staring at me like he was fuming. I should've felt bad…but really I just thought it was sexy as hell.

"Did you think I was the one acting strange?" I asked, looking at him expectantly. I knew he'd want to avoid everything, want to go on like nothing had happened. But I wasn't willing to just let it go.

"Y-yes." Kyle spat out the word like it physically hurt.

"Well you were the one who was acting sick. Like someone had slipped you something." I pointed out, unable to hide my grin as his face turned a bright, angry red.

"I…you…" Kyle tried to grab for words, "But…you were the one who was…who wasn't…acting normal!"

"It could be normal." The words slipped out of my mouth before I had time to consider them. Maybe I still had some alcohol in my bloodstream that was loosening my tongue.

My best friend went silent at that, his eyes once again falling away from mine.

"I…I should go…" Kyle's voice was very quiet then, so much so that it took me a few moments to process what he was saying.

"What? Wait…" I scrambled up, jumping to my feet as Kyle turn and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up suddenly.

He started scooping his clothes off the floor, tugging his jeans over his legs.

"Kyle!" I reached out wrapping a hand around his bicep, turning him so that he was forced to look me in the eye. I was wearing only my boxers, and he was wearing only a pair of dark jeans that hung low on his hips.

"Kyle, please." I was still holding onto his arm, my eyes staring pleadingly into his, "I…I'm sorry."

"Why?" Kyle shook his head like he couldn't really understand what I was saying.

"I…what?" My voice came out with exasperation, "Just…please don't leave."

"Why?" He repeated his question, making me want to smack my own head with frustration. Why the hell did he think I didn't want him to leave? Because he was my best friend, and I wasn't content to let things end so horribly. Because I knew nothing would be the same until we talked about it. Because I wanted to do what we were doing last night. Because I wanted to make Kyle make those noises he made when I bit him on the throat. Because I wanted to spend the rest of the day with him, even if we just laid in bed and…and explored each other. Actually, that was what I wanted the most.

But I didn't say any of those things.

"I…I just want you to stay." I shrugged lightly.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Kyle shook his head sadly, yanking his arm from my grasp.

He picked up his shirt and turned towards the door, giving me a small frown before he pulled on the doorknob and stepped out.

I stood still a few moments, staring at the empty bed. Then I walked over to my own pile of clothes, bending over and grabbing them. I really didn't know what to do at that point, didn't know how to fix anything with Kyle.

But I knew who could help me…I knew who'd tell me the truth, who'd give me an honest opinion.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans before I pulled them on, yanking out my car keys.

I didn't know where the hell Kenny went last night, but I'd find him soon enough. I had to.


Sorry it took me a bit longer then expected to get this chapter done with. Let me know what you think about Stan and Kyle's little hookup, I agonized over that part for hours before finally deciding how it should go down!