"Gambling can turn into a dangerous two-way street when you least expect it. Weird things happen suddenly, and your life can go all to pieces." - Hunter S. Thompson


Kyle scratched at his red curls, a frown prominent on his features. For the third time in the last twenty minutes, he glanced downwards at his phone. More precisely, the text he had just received from Stan.

Sorry man, I have to bail. Wendy isn't feeling well. Can we do this another time?

Being the lovesick fool that he was, he had responded with, Sure, send her my love.

Great, now he had to stick around this bar. Getting drunk alone.

In order to drown his sorrows, Kyle took a rather large gulp from his martini. The crisp and dry taste highlighted by the lemon twist that garnished his glass, the only bit of colour in his life right now.

A shadow suddenly blocked his view to his glass, making the blue lights turn into a deep and swirling shade of navy.

Offhandedly, Kyle peered over his shoulder.

"You have got to be kidding me," he groaned, "what are you doing here?!"

Sitting at the stool next to the redhead, Eric sniffed, "Oh, I love you too."

Waving a large hand towards the bartender, he mumbled "Whiskey on the rocks" before turning back to his childhood rival.

"What the fuck are you wearing? I know you're gay, Kyle. But that's no reason to act the part." He said as he gestured to the brown and snug turtleneck his companion wore, seriously what the actual fuck?

Blushing with anger, Kyle took another sip from his drink. The corners of his mind were already becoming foggy with a buzz, swinging lightly to the jazz music that played in the background. A bar that Kyle didn't expect Stan to suggest, no doubt thinking of sport themed pubs at the time. This one was actually sophisticated...Not that Stan wasn't! He just..

"Shit." Kyle mumbled, giving his head a good shake.

"Are you okay? Sure you're not trapped in the 70's or something?"

Startled by the actual concern in Eric's voice, Kyle steadily focused on him. Trying his hardest to see if he actually meant it, or this was another ploy.

Unable to get a read on him, and the beginnings of a churning in his gut, Kyle looked away. Without realizing it, he had downed his drink.

"Another!" he called out to the bartender, adjusting himself on his stool.

What the hell is this made out of? Kyle moodily thought to himself, the cushion was hard as rocks.

"Stan isn't coming."

Eric sipped from his glass, making it look impossibly small with his large hands. Like a giant trying to fit in.

"I could have told you that." Eric chuckled, but without any of the happiness it was meant to have.

"How?"

Eric squinted at him, "You would have thought that a hippie could handle itself better."

Kyle glared, "Fuck off, can you not be an asshole for one second? How did you know Stan wasn't coming, you...you could have spared me all of this."

"I was being serious. Calm down, Jewboy. I knew Stan wouldn't show up, not because I wanted to stop your little date. Trust me, I didn't know and didn't care. But at the reunion..." Eric paused before he leaned towards Kyle, and despite himself, Kyle moved in closer to hear better.

A shiver slid down his spine as Eric's hot breath brushed against the side of his face and neck; the scent of vanilla, smoke, and musk was present again.

"Wendy was feeling thirsty at the reunion, so she had a lot of cups of punch."

Proud of himself, Eric returned to his original position with a smirk. Already finishing half of his drink without a care, or any effect.

Kyle chewed his bottom lip at the gap between them now, and half wished that Eric would move in closer. Even to whisper some useless shit.

"Oh."

"Speaking of dates, that guy in the leather jacket is leering at you."

"What guy?" Kyle stiffened as he followed Eric's gaze, and there he was. Appearing as if he was in his mid thirties, the man was wearing a thin leather jacket despite the onslaught of cold they've been having.

Any homophobic slur that he expected was non-existent, and in its place was a flirty wink that was directed at him.

"You want to make a bet?"

Finally Kyle looked away, comparing the differences between the stranger and Eric. While the man was cute in a make-out session in the backseat of his car sort of way, Eric had matured in a way that was similar to the whiskey he drank.

While his face was still youthful without any signs of wrinkles, that cold and calculating edge he had wasn't worn down. In fact, he seemed to be measuring the man that sat across from him.

"What kind of bet?"

Finally seeing Eric's glare, the man jumped before hurriedly turning back to his beer.

"To see if you can get his number."

"Why?" Kyle scoffed, unsure if he heard that correctly.

"Just to see if you can get some in that awful outfit."

"It's not that bad! And why would I? What do I win?"

Pondering the potential price, Eric drank the rest of his beverage in one mouthful before he finally said, "A blowjob."

Kyle sputtered, his face burning like the sun that was setting.

Unconcerned, the brunette continued on through, "Now, if I win...You have to go on a date with me, of my choosing. Meaning none of your bitching, and you have to tell Stan about it."

He couldn't believe he was actually considering this, "And all I have to do is get that guy's phone number?"

"Yep."

"Fine, you better do some mouth exercises until I get back."

With his latest martini burning the blood that coursed through his veins, Kyle slowly made his way over to the man in leather. Constantly aware of the set of eyes that seemed to follow all of his movements, he tried to appear dignified and confident as he slid in beside him.

"Hey." he greeted, smiling brightly at the man to his side. "I noticed you staring at me, and well, can I have your number?"

Looking behind him, surely at Eric, the man offered him that same smile. "Just a number, and not anything else?"

A cool hand was placed on his knee, sliding along to his thigh. Kyle was caught between the desire to either throw up, or to punch his upturned nose. Either way, he bottled it up inside and calmly grinned at the attention.

"Yeah, but who knows." he laughed, eyelashes lowering as he gave the man a coy glance.

That hand inched closer, like thorny vines ready to strangle. But the man's free hand plucked a napkin from the bar counter, "I like you, baby."

And as he grabbed a pen from one of his many pockets, the man hunched over the napkin to begin writing a series of numbers.

With a triumphant grin on his face, Kyle shot Eric a smirk. But for whatever reason he didn't seem fazed, and licked at his lips with a wink.

"What the hell are you doin', Benny?"

Kyle turned away, shock pushing the air from his lungs. A woman in a tight cocktail dress snarled at the man dressed in leather, painted lips a glossy line of disapproval. "Pooh, this ain't what it looks like!" he pleaded, pushing the napkin into Kyle's unsuspecting hands.

"Really, cause it don't look like nuthin'. Whose this douche bag, huh?" she snapped, pointing a sharp hot pink nail in Kyle's direction.

"Nobody, pooh! A...a fag, he was comin' onto me!"

Kyle gave a snort topped with loathing, "A fag, really? You know people like you are why homosexuals stay in the closet, because you're too busy being ashamed of your sexuality. So you take it out on others." Standing up, he gave the middle finger to the man before he headed back to his stool. Not caring in the least of the argument he left behind, in particular the woman pouring her drink on her boyfriend, Benny.

He slammed the napkin on the counter, before he grumbled "Another martini, give it an extra kick" to the blinking staff member behind the shiny surface.

"I guess you won." he sighed, rubbing at his still warm face.

"Nah, it was a tie." Eric said with a tuneless hum, giving his glass a little toss. Kyle stared at the clinking ice cubes for a moment, before he broke out of his spell.

"What?" he croaked, feeling too tired and confused to keep up. Where's some Advil when you need it?

Eric peeled the napkin from the counter before he showed it to him, "Your friend didn't finish his phone number, he got half way. So we both technically win."

"So...?"

"So, you go on a date with me but you don't tell Stan about it. Unless you truly want to. Now c'mon."

Kyle blinked as the bartender set his martini in front of him, "Wait, where?"

Climbing off his stool, Eric rose a brow at him, "The bathrooms, where else would we be going? Unless you want to do this in city hall?"

He didn't even wait for him, starting to head towards the exit.

Cursing under his breath, Kyle dug out some cash and put it on the counter before racing off after him.


Kyle refused to go to the bathrooms, fearful that some drunkard would walk in on them. So the pair found themselves outside of Le Bleu Chat, tucked away in the gritty corner of the alleyway.

"Are you sure no one will see us?" Kyle whispered, wary when Eric knelt before him. The grey trousers he wore immediately darkened with the grim coating the floor, and Kyle almost felt bad about it.

Almost, if it weren't for the excitement and suspense wounding him tight. Frowning at the lack of response, Kyle took a step backwards, head thunking as it made contact with the brick wall of the building. "You don't have to do this." Kyle mumbled, unable to stare into those dark eyes.

"I know," Eric said at last, "I never do something I don't want to do. Not if I can help it."

ZZzziippp

Cautious of what to do with his hands, Kyle rubbed them together as the wind began to pick up. This wasn't his first time doing this, but for whatever reason Eric had him blushing like a virgin. And he hadn't even pulled him out yet, fine with focusing on every shift of his face. A saucy smirk tainted his features when he finally did, warm hand causing Kyle to yelp in shock.

"Shut up! Someone might hear us!" he hissed at Eric's laughter, dancing lowly with the shadows that mingled around them. He was grateful when his snickers became muted, but only because he favoured opening his mouth.

Kyle groaned, eyelids lowering at the feeling of the hot and moist cavern that was Eric's mouth. Unclenching his hands, he dropped one to Eric's brown locks. As he hoped they'd be, they were silky to the touch, and were a lot easier to run fingers through.

Biting his bottom lip, Kyle took great delight in ruffling it up. But still the strands messily fell around Eric's unblinking eyes, unimaginably sexy.

Randomly Eric alternated between gentle and strong sucks, tongue stroking the underside. Each brush had the redhead standing above him breathing heavily through parted lips, barely thinking about the sounds he made and whether anyone would hear them. Gripping the tan skin that was revealed when Kyle's jeans began to slip downwards, Eric held him back from thrusting into his mouth as he popped off.

A touch breathless, his eyes narrowed with amusement as he considered their surroundings, and the usually pretentious Kyle Broflovski.

"So," he started, casually pumping with his right hand, "what are you hungry for?"

Clearing his throat to appear like Eric wasn't affecting him as much as he was, Kyle knitted his brows together in concentration.

"Hungry for what?" he whined, watching as Eric's pink tongue lapped at a throbbing vein.

"The dinner, remember?"

"Ahh...Aren't you p-picking?"

Moving in closer to kiss along the flushed skin, Eric groaned in exasperation. "Of course I am, but I'm trying to be polite. And don't worry, Jew, I'm paying."

Lightly swinging his hips, Kyle aimed for the larger man's mouth, nudging it. And ever the gentleman, Eric opened up.

"Anything you want." Kyle whimpered, digging his nails into that lovely chestnut locks. "J-just don't stop..."

Smiling around him, Eric held his gaze as his mouth widened. And with snowflakes just starting to fall from the heavens, a change that arrived earlier then it was broadcasted, Eric bobbed faster.

Kyle closed his eyes, still able to hear the piano playing in the background. Aware that those dark chocolate irides were categorizing everything he did, he let go. With a few weak thrusts, Kyle sighed as pleasure had him lifting himself onto the tips of toes.

Silently Eric followed the movements, suckling until the other rode an orgasm that had him gasping for air with trembling fingers.

Swallowing every last pearly drop, Eric gave the once weeping slit a kiss before he got up. Frowning when the effort became troublesome, especially since his trousers were tighter than usual and covered in dirt and who knows what else.

Reluctantly Kyle settled back down, legs giving an occasional twitch as his hands dropped from Eric's hair. They fell to his shoulders, where they gave the broad set a squeeze.

"T-thanks."

"No, thank you." Eric whispered back, making a point to lick his lips again. Kyle cleared his throat, lump caught in the back. Suddenly he was reminded of the cold, and pulled himself in.

Zziiipp

"Let's head out." the taller of the two sung, jacket dusted with snowflakes. As they escaped the darkness of the alleyway, they were greeted by the light of the town. Much like the streetlamps that adorned the streets, the stars overhead brightened their world.

"I hope you don't mind Italian."

"Nope." Kyle replied with a smile and a blush, especially when Eric said, "Perfect."

Either was willing to blame it on the lack of glow that the lamps gave off, but at that moment their hands brushed one another. And secretly neither minded it.