Yea! Another chapter! And only three more months until the end of the school year! So stoked. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry it took me so long to update...
First period Monday morning is only slightly better than the ninth ring of hell, all things considered. It was English with Garrison, who was equally as hung-over as his students. Kenny was doodling notes to Bebe and chewing on the white drawstring of his orange hoodie. Bebe was furiously texting Wendy about the weekend drama (Clyde slept with Heidi, Token had duked it out with Craig, whom, for some unknown reason, Tweek was refusing to talk to). She held the phone under her desk slyly, eyeing the teacher from her peripherals. Wendy was passing debate notes to Cartman, who, much to her chagrin, carelessly folded them into planes and launched them at Kyle. The redhead, nearly asleep, held his head in one hand, and with the other, tiredly raised it to flip Cartman the finger. Stan, two seats down, was passed out cold, leaning his head on the back wall right behind his desk. The standard Monday shit.
Kyle sighed and shook his head to eradicate the pleasant buzz of approaching sleep. Outside it was drab and wet, raining intermittently. He yawned again as Garrison continued to lecture the class.
"…the preliminary draft will be due next Tuesday, so you little shits better pull your act together and research…"
Kyle redirected his attention to the tinny music emanating from Token's expensive white headphones. Some hip-hop song. The boy was sporting his usual designer Armani (Token had exquisite taste, Kyle decided), as well as a swollen lip and a cut over the bridge of his nose. In the front of the room, Craig's face displayed an impressive shiner, and his knuckles were scabbed and purple. Kyle shifted in his plastic blue seat to glance at Tweek, who was sitting quietly at the desk in the corner, staring hopelessly at his untied shoelaces. And holy mother of god, he wasn't drinking coffee. What in the hell had happened?
Before Kyle could speculate further, the bell rang, informing the students of blissful freedom. He packed his things into his bag and walked back to Stan, who side stepped the redhead and passed him without a word. Kyle watched in bewilderment as the brunet left the room. The redhead groaned softly with a sinking feeling in his stomach, and turned to approach Tweek.
"Hey man. How's it going?" He asked lightly.
Tweek's impossibly thin form was arched over his backpack as he stowed his notebook away. He glanced at Kyle and offered a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Fine," the blond answered timidly.
His vivid blue eyes darted out to watch Craig converse pleasantly with Kevin, and came back dejectedly to his shoelaces, and at once Kyle understood. God, did Kyle understand that feeling.
"Dude, I hear the teacher's lounge has like, fucking bomb coffee. Lets go grab some," the redhead suggested, and Tweek's eye brightened a tinge.
"Fuck yes. I haven't had a cup since yesterday. Haven't been this clean since I was five-Jesus Christ!"
Nearly one whole, unbroken sentence. That kid needed his fix like now. The two embarked down the hall. They crept in and out of the lounge undetected- either they were ridiculously stealthy, or every teacher in there just didn't give a fuck about two unauthorized students in the private teacher's lobby, which was the more likely case.
Oddly enough, Kyle felt incredibly comfortable hanging with Tweek. The two were basically in the same position romantically, and the redhead was just fine muddling in misery with his blond comrade. Approaching their group leisurely, Kyle carefully kept his eyes off Stan. He could never be sure with the brunet. What could just be moodiness could just as easily be another mini war waiting to erupt. That was the way their relationship worked- two steps forwards, one step back, and so on and so forth. Plus there was also the subject of their interesting weekend endeavors that had yet to be brought up. Kyle kept himself cool, composed, and observant. The redhead wasn't worried. It wasn't as if that night could be taken back- eventually it would come to surface when Stan was ready. Kyle did though, keep an eye out to see how Stan was reacting to it all.
The group was arranged into a circle of sorts- Clyde, followed by Token, Stan, Craig, Kenny, Cartman, Kyle then Tweek- with all conversation directed towards the middle. The hot subject at the moment was Clyde's getting laid at the party. The boy dictated the event with lurid vocabulary and a selection of suggestive hand motions.
The redhead slid into the conversation with ease, while Tweek downed half his cup in one swallow. He released a small, breathy moan in delight. Craig, standing with Stan opposite Kyle and Tweek, looked extremely flustered for several seconds, before clearing his throat and re-engaging himself into Clyde's story.
Stan glanced shortly at Kyle, who gazed back steadily while taking even sips of java. The brunet at once broke through the circle and repositioned himself against the yellow lockers next to Kyle. He reached over to grab the cup, but the redhead pulled it from his reach slyly. Stan playfully nudged Kyle's leg with his own, and let it rest there, unnoticeable to all else in the group. Kyle smiled into his coffee.
The warning bell rang, informing students they had ten minutes to get to class. The group reluctantly split and dispersed. Kyle pushed himself from the lockers and made a motion to leave, but was blocked by Stan standing directly in front of him. The redhead looked up.
"Hey you're still coming this weekend, right? To the wedding?" The brunet said almost off handedly, trying to avoid the deeper question that was most definitely implied.
Kyle raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip in apparent thought, before giving the other his reply.
"Yea, I'm down."
Stan gave a toothy grin, displaying rows of pearly whites.
"Cool."
On that note, the brunet took off reluctantly for math.
Lubricated? Or ribbed? But that was ribbed for her pleasure. Did that mean it wouldn't work for guys? Stan was standing contemplatively in front of a wall adorned with hundreds of colored packages of condoms. He had ditched fifth and sixth and driven all the way up to Cherry Creek to avoid being recognized in this shabby sex shop. Around him, bathed in red light was every sex gadget he would probably every lay eyes on in his life. He wasn't even sure how a few worked, though he was sure he could imagine.
He reached out to the wall a grabbed a package at random. Maybe grape flavored…
A scantily clad girl with cherry-red hair and a rose tattoo on her left breast approached him from behind the counter.
"Hey hon. Ya lookin' for something special?" She asked kindly through a huge wad of pink gum. "We got anything you're lookin' for, I guarantee it," she promised.
"Um yea thanks," Stan replied awkwardly. "I'm looking for something for my…boyfriend," his pitch heightened on that last word, as if it was a question. The brunet's mind plummeted into chaos. Holy shit, he thought. Please don't let me be seen in here! I'm not gay! What am I doing?!
Fortunately, the saleswoman seemed to sense his dilemma.
"Sure thing hon," she replied nonchalantly. She selected two packages from the wall, chewing her gum loudly. The boxes were differing shades of turquoise.
"This is what you're lookin' for," she advised, tapping on the boxes with long red nails. Stan looked curiously at the two boxes. He could feel the heat rise in his face as the lady grabbed a clear magenta bottle from behind the counter and shoved it into his arms.
"This will do the trick. I guarantee it." She winked, before noticing the teen's uneasiness.
"Hon, maybe you should take this too," pulling a book from the shelf. Stan peered at it wearily. It depicted the silhouettes of two men embraced in- ohmygodholyshit. Stan looked away and rubbed his arm self-consciously.
"Yea. Sure. Whatever." God, this was so fucking stupid. He could have bought all this in the South Park drug store. Its not like anyone would care- they would think he was buying it for a adventurous weekend with his girlfriend. And as for the book- well that's what the internet is for. Stan had never been so mortified in his life.
Suddenly, another thought occurred to him. Had Kyle done this before? With another guy? Or worse, with another guy who actually knew what he was doing? For the first time in his life, Stan had performance anxiety. Shit, what if he wasn't as good as this other man? With girls it was so easy: kiss here, stroke there, push harder when she moans like that…
Stan gulped down a huge breath as the cashier chimed. He told himself to calm down. For all he knew, Kyle was a virgin. Let's not over think this now.
The woman handed Stan his purchases in a pink plastic bag, giving him a wink, and a flirty, "have fun, hon." The brunet all but sprinted to his truck and threw the bag onto the passenger seat. He revved the vehicle and tore out of the parking lot.
Once on the highway back to town, Stan started thinking about having sex. With a guy. He didn't know much except for the bare basics of what goes where. And judging from previous encounters, Stan had a pretty accurate idea of who would giving and who would be taking. Was there much more than that?
He had never discussed this sort of thing with Ky. It was as if talking about it would somehow make this whole wanton nightmare a reality. Without words, there was no way to prove anything had occurred. For all he knew, it could be in his head.
Stan glanced over at the pink bag. He was simultaneously burning with humiliation and curiosity.
Arriving at home, Stan stuffed the plastic bag into his backpack and entered the house. No one was home, as usual. The brunet released a small sigh of relief. He wasn't ready to face anyone personally after his little adventure. Rocketing up the stairs, Stan burst through his door and shook the pink bag out of his backpack and onto his bed.
After staring at it for some time in intense inner conflict, Stan huffed angrily, grabbed it, and threw it under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind. For now.
Tuesday mornings are almost as horrendous as Mondays. Even worse if you really think about it. Mondays start slow, gradually worsen around noon, but after lunch ease up to the point where one can just coast along until that final bell. Everyone is still coming down from the weekend. Hell, you've got until Tuesday night to start studying for that exam on Wednesday. But Tuesdays everyone is just throw in head first off the deep end- no slow awakening from the weekend vacation. In short: Mondays are the crash. Tuesdays are the withdrawal.
This was Kyle's personal opinion, as he yawned like a lion, and rested his head on the lab table.
"Broflovski! Wake up the fuck up, man! Hold the test tube while I pour this stuff in," yelled Clyde irritably.
"Fuck off," Kyle muttered tiredly.
The redhead held the tube as Clyde delivered a clear substance into it. He looked down at his textbook.
"Ok now we add the acid to the solution- wait…oh fuck did I just pour the water or the acid into that tube?!"
Clyde looked around the table wildly, picking up the glass vials and reading the labels. In his frenzy, three tubes were knocked to the floor, splattering over Clyde's left forearm and hand as he attempted to catch them.
"Holy fuck!" he exclaimed in agony. "This shit burns!"
Hearing Clyde's screams, the teacher came hurdling over the lab benches to the boy's side. The class looked on as the teacher dragged the boy into the back room, and within second the rushing sound of the emergency shower was heard. Kyle, watching in an tired daze, stood up, fetched the bathroom pass, and walked out of the room.
Stan was pretending to learn about American history, when he caught, out of the corner of his eye and through the door window, his favorite redhead striding down the hall towards the bathroom. The brunet jumped up to grab the hall pass.
"Hey can I…?" Stan asked, motioning to the door with the pass in his arm.
The teacher gazed at him from over her purple rimmed glasses and sighed wearily.
"Can't you wait half an hour for class to be over?"
"Uh I don't know," the brunet replied cheekily. "Can you pay for the dry cleaning if I piss my pants?"
A few snickers were heard around the room.
"Just go," she replied disgustedly, waving her hand at him in a shooing motion. Stan gave the teacher a winning smile and trotted through the door.
Kyle washed his hands thoroughly, and was drying them with paper, when he was enveloped from behind by strong arms and a familiar scent.
"Hey buddy," Stan chuckled teasingly as he squeezed the redhead tighter.
Kyle attempted to elbow him off, and Stan relinquished his hold with a grin.
"Dude so the plans are as follows," announced the brunet. "We're all leaving Thursday night for Denver, but me and you-"
"You and I," Kyle corrected playfully.
Stan gave him a long, irritated look.
"You're fucking adorable man. Really. So me and you can drive ourselves up in a separate car cause we'll be staying extra time-"
As Stan was talking, Kyle gently backed the brunet up against the wall. When Stan finished, Kyle replied.
"Kay. Sounds good. I've already talked to my mom and she says I can go as long as we-" as Kyle continued, his hands reached down to delicately toy with the buckle of Stan's belt. The redhead looked off the side as he talked, as if he didn't know what he was doing.
The soft pressure of Kyle's fingers near his groin began to stir Stan's blood. Every so often, Kyle's fingers would very lightly stroke the crotch of Stan's jeans, and the brunet's head would swim in the faintest tinges of ecstasy. The brunet was having trouble catching the other's words.
"-and we'll be having our own room, right?" Kyle looked up at Stan with emerald bedroom eyes.
"Uh huh," Stan murmured and reached out to grab Kyle closer. The other flitted from his grasp with a grin, and backed away. The redhead grabbed the pass from the sink and began for the door.
"You're such a fucking tease Ky," Stan stated with an annoyed expression.
The other glanced back with a pleased grin and spun through the door just as a freshman entered.
The brunet rubbed his face with his hands, trying to cool the heat in his groin. He leaned against the wall, flipping through his cell texts while listening to the scrawny freshman take a piss. A sudden, fleeting image of the novel he had bought yesterday seemed to draw his immediate attention and desire.
"-and the bitch was totally crossfaded. I mean, so far gone she couldn't unlock the car. Fucking classic, I swear to god," Cartman remarked as he shoved another Chips Ahoy cookie into his mouth. Bits of chocolate spewed from his lips as he spoke.
He, Kenny, and Stan were seated on the icy metal bleachers beside the track field. Kenny shivered lightly in his thin coat and sucked hard on a cigarette. He tapped the ashes off and exhaled the smoke slowly before handing it off to Stan, who was waiting for it anxiously. The sky was nearly black with storm clouds and there was an unpleasant wind-chill. The three were watching the track team sprint about the field, waiting lazily for the practice to finish. At last the team congregated around the coach, then dispersed to the locker rooms. Kyle broke off from the crowd and headed towards his friends. He was carrying a long, white pole-vaulting pole and his sports bag over one shoulder, and clad in a grey South Park High sweatshirt and the customary tiny track shorts.
Stan swallowed hard as the redhead jogged up to meet them. The redhead's face and neck were flushed crimson, slicked with sweat, and the shorts revealed slender, muscular legs. Still a few feet away, Kyle beamed and more or less semi-skipped the rest of the way, in that quirky little manner of his. He was slightly out of breath, and a few locks of his tediously styled hair rested rebelliously out of place.
Kyle flung the bag onto the grass, flopped gracefully onto the bleachers, and began untying his shoelaces. As Kenny and Cartman bickered irritably in the background, Stan grinded out the last of the cigarette on the silver metal, and gazed amused at the other teen.
"Hey man. Nice shorts," he remarked smugly.
"You love them," Kyle quipped back in a playful voice.
He pulled off his sweatshirt, then jersey, and slipped on a purple t-shirt with a strange graphic in its place. The kid looked ridiculously hipster, Stan decided, licking his dry lips at the sight of Kyle's bare, lithe torso. The redhead kicked off the flimsy golden shorts and pulled on a pair of disgustingly expensive designer jeans over his grey boxer briefs. Stan did, however, find Kyle's shamelessness of nudity quite comical, as he looked over at three wide-eyed freshman girls, who giggled as they watched the redhead openly change. Stan turned back for a moment- Kenny and Cartman's fighting was becoming increasingly louder.
Finally, Kyle stood up, basking in all his metro(homo?)sexual glory. Stan gave the redhead a once over, agreeing reluctantly, that it was a good look on the other. Kyle did have great taste, the brunet had to admit. In that artsy, douche bag, European way.
Kenny tossed Kyle a bottle of water, which hit the distracted redhead in the shoulder. Cartman snickered. Kyle uncapped the bottle and drank vigorously. Stan watched the muscles in his throat move fluidly as he swallowed, The brunet had the strangest desire to reach out and feel the movement of Ky's neck under his fingers.
Before Stan could commit any such foolish action, Kenny decked Cartman squarely across the jaw, indicating that it was time to start heading home. Stan wiggled his way in between the two, not willing to hold anyone back this afternoon, and the four started for the neighborhood.
"So… you're gonna make him buy you dinner before he fucks you, right?"
Kyle turned to look at Kenny out of the corner of his eye. It was Wednesday night, and Ky was packing up his suitcase for Thursday. Stan was supposed to stop by in a little. Kyle methodically folded up a pair of dark jeans and placed them neatly into the case.
"Are you just gonna avoid this situation until Stan suddenly whips it out in the bedroom? Because that would be pretty funny actually."
Kyle cleared his throat in annoyance.
"No, no. You're right. Just keep your head in the sand as long as possible. That's definitely the best solution," Kenny continued.
"Mmm," Kyle finally replied.
"You're fucking stubborn, you know? Such a tight ass. I'll bet Stan will love it."
"Shut up, Kenny," Kyle replied.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help. We're buddies, man!"
"You're not concerned, Kenny!" Kyle shouted accusingly. "You're trying to stir up drama for your own sick entertainment! That's all you're interested in!"
Kenny looked stunned, then hurt, and Kyle felt a little guilty.
The redhead cleared his throat and resumed packing. After several moments of thick silence, he muttered a grudging apology.
"You know these are the questions that are gonna come up while you're away with Stan. I'm just asking you ahead of time, so you'll be ready. I mean, fuck you man. You think its fun for me to hang with you two when you guys don't fucking talk? It's like hanging with two brick walls, except that brick walls don't fucking launch themselves across the room to attack each other. I'm trying to keep you from fucking up, see? You have to think this through. What do you need?"
Kyle stared at the ground intently. He sighed.
"I need to know that Stan isn't just gonna throw me aside after he gets what he wants."
Kenny sighed and nodded wordlessly. Abruptly, the blonde's cell vibrated in his pocket, and he excitedly fumbled to retrieve it. Kyle peeked at the sender- Bebe. Kenny sat on Kyle's bed with his knees drawn up as he gleefully messaged the other girl. Kyle had noticed this behavior for some time now- it had started around December and had increased after Stan and Bebe's break up.
"So… Bebe, huh? She's pretty," Kyle offered offhandedly.
"She's fucking beautiful," Kenny whispered out as he sent the message. Both of Kyle's eyebrows raised- he had never heard Kenny talk about a girl so passionately (without the preceding event of sex, of course).
Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and Ike sprinted to it with all the vivacity of a twelve year old boy looking to cause trouble for his older brother. He threw the door open.
"Hiya Stan!" He remarked loudly. "Kyle's upstairs with Kenny."
Upstairs, the two had heard the announcement. Kenny grinned and threw his arm around Kyle, pulling him close.
"What are you doing," Kyle asked, exasperated, as he tried to squirm from the other's hold.
"We're performing a social experiment."
Kyle groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Kenny. No."
The blonde responded by swiveling his head down to snuggle against Kyle's neck. The redhead gasped and squirmed just as the door opened, revealing Stan in the doorway, with a plethora of emotions gathered on his face. Confusion, Shock, Anger, Rage, in that order.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Stan asked deathly quiet, his voice a little shaky.
Well shit, ran through Kyle's mind. His second thought was, Maybe I should milk this? Naw, he looks pissed.
Kenny responded by lifting his head from Kyle's neck, with a casual, "Oh. You know."
Kyle glared daggers at the blonde.
"He's being an idiot." Kyle gave Kenny a look of sarcastic appreciation, and the blonde raised his eyebrows and grinned widely in response. Stan relaxed.
"Well, I think it's time to go," Kenny announced as he shrugged on his jacket.
"Yes, please," Kyle stated. Kenny chuckled and grasped Stan's shoulder on his way out of the room.
"Take care of the little princess," the blond advised with a grin.
Stan smiled with teasingly upturned eyebrow, but Kenny tightened his grip on the brunet's shoulder, and Stan suddenly realized Kenny's underlying seriousness. The blond headed down, leaving Stan still for a few moments.
The soft humming intro of Simon and Garfunkle's A Poem On the Underground Wall from Kyle's record player filled the room.
Stan faced Kyle, who was staring at his feet as he pulled out stands of the carpet with his foot. The redhead glanced up. Stan stood awkwardly for a few seconds, then plopped down on the computer chair.
"So… We're leaving tomorrow at 6:15. My parents are leaving a little earlier to check in. It'll be like a two hour drive, if we hit no traffic… or snow."
"Sweet. When's the wedding?" Kyle asked, leaning back on his hands. He was more comfortable now that one of them had started talking.
"Friday night."
"Who has a wedding on a weekday? When will she have time to get ready and actually look decent? That's so stupid."
"That would be the only thing you worry about, Ky."
The redhead shrugged noncommittally.
"Well let me tell you right now, I'm not getting within 50 feet of that woman. You wanna sit in the front row at the alter, you can suck it, cause I won't sit with you."
Stan snickered loudly, which developed into a laugh that he attempted to cover with a cough. Kyle was half annoyed with Stan's laughing, and half pleased with himself at being able to cause it.
"It was your fault anyway. If you hadn't started it, I wouldn't be so defensive right now. Your aunt's out of her mind."
Stan stopped laughing long enough to gasp out, "Your still mad at me over that? What is this, like a pride thing?"
"No, its more of like a fuck you thing, Stan," Kyle replied evenly, though his eyes were laughing.
The brunet laughed harder. He was tearing up.
"Well, I have nothing more to say to you, Stan," the redhead stated in feigned annoyance as he headed to the bathroom to fill a glass with water. The brunet calmed at the sound of the water taps.
Kyle came back, drinking from his glass. He approached the computer chair and Stan's attention was immediately drawn to the way Kyle's Adam apple bobbed as he swallowed. His neck looked soft and smooth. The redhead stopped in front of Stan, offering the water glass. The brunet shook his head. He gently pulled Kyle down onto his knee, much like the way a child sits on Santa's lap at the mall.
The redhead raised one eyebrow in a gesture of mock irritation, and Stan smiled up at him. They were relaxed. Stan snickered again, and Kyle punched his shoulder.
"I swear I will cut your dick off if your aunt gets near my hair. I am so fucking serious."
Stan chuckled into the redhead's shoulder. The brunet was warm, and his laughs vibrated against Kyle's skin. Kyle relaxed in Stan's grip. It felt nice again to be close to him like this. He raised the glass to his lips again.
Stan shifted and gently slid one hand around to the front of Kyle's neck. The redhead stilled for a moment, mid-swallow, before continuing. Stan watched the muscle movement softly, fascinated. His warm hand was placed lovingly but solidly on Ky's neck, feeling the movements, the pulse, the softness and warmth. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the redhead's shoulder. His thumb affectionately caressed the skin of Kyle's neck, feeling the pulse quicken beneath it.
Kyle was entranced by the intimacy of Stan's behavior. It felt good. Like they were supposed to have been acting like this all along. Stan's hand slid up from the other's neck to behind his ear. He lifted his head and leaned up towards Kyle's lips. There was a brief hesitation, their lips touching barely, neither breathing, before Kyle pressed downwards, meeting their lips softly. The redhead adjusted to place one hand behind the brunet' head for leverage. Stan took Kyle's lower lip between his own, and they kissed lightly, with restrained passion.
Then, from downstairs, came Ike's voice screaming:
"KYYYYLLLE! Your supposed to make me diiinnneeer!" The boy whined out petulantly.
The redhead swallowed back a gasp and removed himself from Stan's grip with a frustrated sigh. The brunet chuckled.
"You should go- unless you want to eat with us?" Kyle questioned with guarded hope.
"Yea, sure." Stan agreed, trying to catch the other's lips again. The redhead laughed and pushed the brunet away.
Dinner was unbearable. Not the food-they ate pasta marinara, quite tasty. It was the longing looks, teasing feet games under the table, and the burdensome need to keep it all under control in front of Ike, that made dinner absolutely insufferable for Stan and Kyle. Kyle sent Ike off to bed while Stan cleaned the dishes.
At last they were alone in the dark living room. Stan slung his arms around Kyle's waist and dragged him into a fervent kiss. Kyle tried to extricate himself from Stan's grip, breathlessly, between kisses.
"We…can't. We'll have… time for… all this tomorrow…night." It was a truly horrible feeling to have to stop this, Kyle thought.
Stan finally concurred. With the door open, ready for Stan to leave, the brunet pressed Kyle back against it and initiated a kiss that left the redhead gasping for breath and foggy minded. Stan chuckled and bounded away from the house. Dazed, Kyle shut the door quietly behind.
Stan locked the door behind him as he entered his room. Frantically, he yanked off his jeans and fell face down onto his bed, his arousal pressed uncomfortably against the blankets. Slowly, he grinded down against the mattress, imagining Kyle's naked form, legs splayed, and breathlessly helpless beneath him. The redhead gasped shortly as Stan moved against his naked hips, wrapping his legs around the brunet's waist for a broader sensation. Stan's hand came down to fist his own arousal, and suddenly, he was trusting hard and deep inside Kyle's body.
Kyle spread his legs wider, tangling them in the sheets, as he imagined Stan's body looming above him. He gave a low moan, thrusting up into his fist, as he imagined Stan fucking him into oblivion. The redhead fantasized about the roughness and fullness of Stan's penetrating thrusts. They were so deep Kyle could hardly breathe. Stan kept him pinned down between intense thrusts, and the redhead reveled in the wanton sensation of submission. It was strangely and insanely arousing to submit to Stan. The brunet held Kyle's wrists harshly, whispering vulgar commands into the redhead's ears.
"Beg for me."
At those words, Kyle grabbed Stan's shoulders and arched back as he could feel his climax approaching. The redhead gasped and mewled out the brunet's name in a multitude of breathy, pleading manners. The brunet relished the twisted notion of complete domination of his best friend. Stan imagined maliciously slowly his thrusts, and Kyle begging desperately beneath him to move harder, faster, deeper. The redhead's face was flushed and damp, his neck thrown back, lips parted in ecstasy, and his hips grinding back on Stan's frantically.
Kyle was impossibly hot, tangled up in his sheets, and pumping his arousal desperately as Stan continued to fuck him. At last the brunet reached down to touch Kyle, and white bursts clouded the redhead's vision. He was suspended in an eruption of sharp pleasure, his muscled tensed and mouth open.
Stan gave a few particularly hard thrusts, from which Kyle groaned wantonly, and came hard and long into his hand. He breathed harshly for a few moments, settling on his side and wiping his hands onto his sheets. He sighed, enjoying the pleasant come down, and gazed out the window. After a shower and another jerking session, Stan fell into his bed to meet a dreamful sleep.
Kyle carefully washed his hands and changed his sheets. His insides were bubbling with the possibilities of tomorrow night. After several hours of tossing, the redhead at last fell asleep to the notion of Stan's car, rocking gently as it drove the two to Denver, the gentle snows, and Stan's warm body at his side.
TBC
So clichéd- end the chapter with a smut scene, but whatever.
Hey, so I really don't usually advertise my own personal likes in my stories because I feel like it compromises the characters, but to my readers who have never heard Simon & Garfunkle's A Poem On the Underground Wall, you should go listen. The live 1967 version, if you can find it. I bought the record when I was like thirteen, and I swear this song will change your life. Its one of the most fucking gorgeous things ever written. Plus I thought it matched the mood for the scene.
Read and Review? Please?