June, 2018
"What has gotten into you," Stan breathed out, head tilted back against the wall as he dug his fingers into Kyle's red curls. Not that Kyle could much answer, given his current position. Lips wrapped around his cock, one hand wrapped around the base while the other supported himself by gripping onto Stan's thigh. Instead, he looked up at him with wide, blinking eyes as he pressed his tongue hard against the underside. Kyle shrugged, pulling off with a wet little pop. "Dunno," he said simply, before going back to work. They had limited amount of time, tucked away in the stock room of Jimbo's store. Eventually a customer would show up or Stan's uncle would come back. So Kyle needed to make quick work of this. Pumping his hand in time with his mouth, Kyle hollowed out his cheeks and sucked. Above him, he heard Stan's head hit against the wall again, felt his thigh tremble under his palm. Kyle wasn't half bad at this, between Stan and Cartman both teaching Kyle like he was a virgin or some girl who didn't know what a dick liked.
When Stan did finish, not much longer than five minutes later, Kyle pulled back and tried not to make a face as he swallowed. Easily the worst part. The taste was fine, really. When it was just sitting in his mouth... but the swallowing? The bitterness sat in the back of his throat, uncomfortable and lingering until he could wash it away with food or drink. If Kyle's distaste for it showed, Stan didn't notice anyway. He looked rather spent, slumped against the wall with his pants pooled around his ankles. Kyle reckoned he could use a nap, now. Wiping the saliva from his lips and chin on the back of his hand, Kyle gave Stan's thigh a little slap to bring him out of his post-orgasmic daze.
"Back to work, man," he said as he tucked Stan back into his boxers, and going so far as to pull his jeans back up and attempt to zip and button them. Kyle figured it needed some adjusting, but he wasn't doing all the fucking work here, especially since he wasn't getting anything in return. Not that Kyle had popped over to get a quickie, more to give Stan a bit of a treat.
Above him, Stan hummed, eyes closed and making no effort to move. Kyle just stared up at him, wiping his sweaty and sticky-feeling hands off on his own jeans. He needed to wash them, or the discomfort of the feeling would drive him mad. "Come on, before someone comes looking." Kyle reached up to take Stan's hands in his, using the larger boy as an anchor to help himself up. "Christ, you're useless," he mumbled when Stan offered no help whatsoever. He was lucky Kyle had a lot of making up to do, whether Stan knew it or not.
With Kyle at near eye-height, Stan opened his and looked at him, laziness plastered allover it. Kyle knew his own face was one of exasperation and mild amusement, and Stan must have found it attractive in the very least. He leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses against Kyle's plumped lips. Kyle took it as a little thank you, and the corners turned upwards in a little smile as he pressed back into it. "Love you," Stan mumbled. If Kyle wasn't so close, he wouldn't have heard it. He pressed their foreheads together, red and black hair tangling together as Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle's torso. "Love you too," Kyle murmured back. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt as if he meant it.
Of course he meant it. Kyle felt stupid for doubting it. Quick enough to give Stan a little start, Kyle wrapped his own arms tight around Stan's neck, holding them together tightly. "I love you so fucking much," Kyle said again. It was the closest thing he could get to an apology without admitting what he'd done. The familiar tears of guilt welled up in his eyes, and to hide them Kyle moved to bury his face in the crook of his boyfriends neck. He felt Stan laugh, chests pressed together, and he rubbed at Kyle's back before gently pushing him away.
"You alright?" Stan asked, and Kyle nodded as he rubbed at his face to wipe the emotions away. "Course," Kyle replied, and inhaled deeply to bring him back down to a calmer mindset.
As Stan took Kyle's hand in his and pulled them from the supply closet, Kyle battled with himself. He loved Stan. Why did he doubt it? Why had Cartman doubted it? If he didn't, Kyle wouldn't have had any qualms about leaving him for that fat fuck. What was love if love wasn't sacrifices? Regardless of what Kyle wanted, he'd put Stan first. He'd protect Stan even if it meant slitting Cartman's throat. If he could even get a knife through the amount of chins. Kyle had already decided to dedicate his life to giving Stan the one he deserved, whether or not Kyle was genuinely happy with it or not. That was fucking love. Even if one could argue that if Kyle truly loved him, he wouldn't have let Eric Theodore Cartman fuck him. It was a mistake, and though part of him knew Stan should know, it was best if he didn't. Kyle wasn't going to break him.
The part of him that argued against it could go fuck itself.
"-suddenly decided to turn into a bit of a hoe, but I'm not complaining," Stan was saying, and Kyle shook his head to focus on the now. Kyle looked stupidly at him, blinking. "Huh?" Stan's face lit up, laughing at the clueless look on Kyle's.
"I just said, you've I don't know why you've suddenly decided to turn into a hoe, but I'm not complaining." Stan grinned, and Kyle folded his arms over his chest. "You'd better not, or it'll stop," Kyle replied, eyes rolling. It was true, Kyle figured. He'd 'hoe'd' it up the last week, since he kicked Eric back out his window. They were... apologies, of sorts. Or, as the nagging Cartman voice in his head said, distracting himself by throwing all his energy into upping his and Stan's sex game. Who cared what the ulterior motive was, anyway? So what if he was dragging Stan into dark corners and bushes, interrupting him at work with blowjobs or taking attention off a movie by slipping his hands into the front of Stan's shorts? The law, he supposed. But it wasn't like they'd gotten caught yet anyway.
Okay, so maybe, internally, Kyle was fighting with himself about it all the time now. Regardless of what the motives were, Stan was happy. And if Stan was happy, Kyle was happy. That's all that mattered...
July, 2018
Thwhip. Thwhip. Thwhip.
"Kenny, I swear to god if you don't stop, I'm going to kick your ass," Kyle snapped, reaching behind him to swat at the incoming quarter. He missed, the coin bouncing with a thwhip off his butt. Kyle growled, eyes narrowing into slits, but Kenny was unaffected. He just continued giggling, flicking another quarter to bounce off his ass cheek and fall to the ground.
"Kenny!" He'd probably thrown about five dollars at him now, Cartman trailing behind him to pick up the quarters as they walked to Kenny's new car(truck, rather. Can take the boy from the rednecks but you can't take the redneck from the boy). "It's not my fault you've got an ass that just won't quit, Ky. What's your secret?" Kenny asked, voice full of amusement. Sure enough, another coin hit him in the butt. Kyle stopped walking, bent down and picked it up only to whip it full speed at Kenny. The quarter made a great sound as it bounced off his thick head, leaving behind a bright red mark between his eyes. Stan, who up until that point was holding in his own giggles burst out into laughter, face going red. Kyle punched Stan in the shoulder.
Traitor.
As Kenny recovered, they continued to walk. It was the first time in a few weeks where they'd all had the same day off, a bright and warm Wednesday. So they'd elected to pile into Kenny's stupidly new and stupidly large pick up, and drive two and a half hours to a lake in the mountains for the day. "You know, I was just tying to compliment your bangin' butt, man," Kenny sulked, and sure enough, seconds later a quarter hit him in the middle of his left ass cheek. The laughter started up again, Stan leaning forward and clutching at his abdomen as Kyle's hands clenched at his sides. "So round, so perky. Do you do squats, Kyle?" Kenny continued, pressing the button on his key fob to unlock the doors to the truck.
"Probably from riding dick, we all know he's a power bottom," Cartman chimed in, jingling his handful of quarters before shoving them in his pocket. Kyle looked to Stan for some sort of defense on that, but he just bit into his lip and tried not to grin.
"I am not a power bottom," Kyle said, sending Stan a look that dared him to disagree. Stan shrugged, not saying anything but his face clearly read that he was on Cartman's side. Again with the treason.
"Stan, switch with Cartman!" Kyle yelled, punching Cartman as hard as he could in the shoulder. Stan had called shotgun, as Kyle was climbing into Kenny's truck to claim the front seat for himself. Which lead them to have a bit of a tiff, pushing and pulling at each other over who got the front seat. In the end, Stan had simply picked Kyle up and wrestled him into the back seat, kicking and screaming as Cartman pulled him in from the other side. Kyle thought they were adults, mistakenly, but apparently childish games of Shotgun still trumped above all else. Kyle had kind of hoped someone in the street had thought he was being kidnapped and called the police. But given how long they'd all lived in the small town of South Park, everyone was familiar with them enough to know Kyle was, for all intents and purposes, safe.
But now Kyle hadn't been stuck in the back seat with Cartman poking and prodding at him to piss him off, Kyle smacking at him every time Cartman had gone in for a wet Willy or grabbed his arm for an Indian burn. "I'm going to fucking kill you, stop! Kenny!" Kyle cried out, Cartman leaning over to tickle under his arm pit and sides. Between his yelling he couldn't hold back the involuntary giggles. "I'm not switching, Shotgun Law clearly states this is my rightful seat for this leg of the drive, Kyle," Stan said, turned in his seat to witness Kyle's torture with a smirk in his face.
Traitor.
By the time they'd gotten to the lake, Kyle was fuming. Everyone else seemed thoroughly amused by his rage, which made it even worse. There was nothing Kyle hated more than being a joke. The moment the truck was turned off, Kyle was out and waiting by the passenger door for Stan to hop out. And when Stan did, Kyle kicked his leg out to trip him. It was what he deserved, Kyle figured. Shit Boyfriend Punishment. After everything Kyle had done for him recently, too. Stan was getting cocky, apparently. So Kyle didn't feel too bad when Stan went face first into the dirt and pine needles. "You should watch where you're going, sweetheart," Kyle said, voice dripping with a metaphorical sugary sweetness. But it was laced with venom, shown by the nasty glare he sent down at Stan.
Stan groaned, pushing himself up and off the ground, using Kyle's pant legs to help. Kyle wanted to push him back down, but perhaps that would be too mean. Instead, he just grabbed Stan's shoulder and helped to bring him back to his feet. "You're an ass, Kyle," Stan said, face looking sulky, and Kyle scoffed before replying. "You guys have been ripping on me the entire ride, you deserve it. Everyone will get their comeuppance. Just be grateful yours was a trip." To apologize for it, even though he didn't really mean it, Kyle stood up on his toes and placed a soft kiss against Stan's stubbly cheek.
Stan seemed to accept it, snaking an arm around Kyle's waist and holding him against his side. "You're one bad day from being a serial killer, babe," Stan joked, leaning down to nuzzle into Kyle's messy, red hair. He wasn't half wrong. There were days when Kyle wanted to kill all of them and probably wouldn't feel all to bad about it. Kenny especially, but Kenny came back. He always came back. Cartman, however...? Kyle wouldn't regret burying him six feet under after throwing that stupid 'I love you' at him a few weeks ago.
Yeah, he was still mad about it.
Eric fucking Cartman got them lost. And by them, Kyle meant; he and Cartman. It had started by Kyle volunteering to go get wood to start a little fire. Cartman had tagged along, despite Kyle's protesting. He knew it was some stupid plot to corner Kyle, do something stupid like talk or fight without the worry of Stan and Kenny overhearing. And sure enough, they had done both. They'd talked; or rather, Kyle kept deflecting and Cartman just got more annoyed. They'd fought; Kyle wasn't wanting to talk. And then they'd gotten distracted and wandered too far off.
"I hate you so fucking much," Kyle spat, kicking at the fallen debris of pine needles and twigs, sending a spray of it in Cartman's direction. "If you'd only just shut up for one god damned minute, we wouldn't be off the trail."
Cartman held his hands up to deflect some of the dirt and shit Kyle kicked at him, narrowing his eyes. "If you didn't stomp off like a fucking baby, we wouldn't be off the fucking path you stupid Jew! Maybe if you just listened when people actually fucking talked to you, instead of metaphorically shoving your greedy little fingers in your ears, we wouldn't be off the fucking path!" Cartman yelled back, and Kyle knew it wasn't just about getting lost. Of course not, because god forbid Eric Cartman ever say anything that didn't have the intent to somehow manipulate people into feeling or acting a certain way. There was always meaning, always motive behind his fucking words.
"I don't listen to you because you're so full of shit it's why your eyes are brown, you fat fuck!" Kyle screamed, stepping closer to get in the other boys face. He'd kick his god damned ass if he had too, anything to relieve the frustration. "I don't listen to you because the bullshit you spew is never fucking genuine, and is always some fucking plot to get your way! Now shut up and help me find the fucking trail." Kyle stood, back straight and tall as possible. Cartman was bigger than him (hell, who wasn't these days?) and in order for the fatass to back down, Kyle needed to appear as threatening as possible. Even if Kyle had successfully kicked Eric's ass in every fight they'd ever been in, Cartman never seemed to remember that. He must have today, however. Perhaps Kyle punching him repeatedly in the shoulder on the ride up every time he pissed the fiery redhead off was enough of a beating today. So Eric conceded, stepping back and turning around.
"There's only so far we could have gone," Cartman said after a few moments, starting to retrace what was hopefully their steps. "If we just get back to the lake we can follow it and come across Stan and Kenny eventually." Kyle wanted to point out that that wouldn't be the case if they were going the wrong way, but then again they'd only been walking for like, an hour. If they didn't come across them in around that time, then they could just turn around and go the other way. "Whatever, less talking more walking. You could use it," Kyle grumbled, turning his eyes down to focus on picking at his cuticles. What he should have been focusing on was the ground, because he'd have seen Eric kick his foot out to try and trip him. Kyle stumbled forward, but managed to regain his balance before he fell.
"Don't call me fat," Eric snapped, and Kyle gave a swift kick to his shin before responding.
"Then fuck off with the Jew jokes, dickwad."
For or a long while they walked, staying silent after that. Kyle guessed it was about twenty minutes or so until they stumbled upon the shoreline of the lake, a welcome sight. There wasn't an argument on which way to turn from there, opting to head East as they were fairly certain they'd gone westward earlier. It wasn't until they'd settled in their direction, Kyle carrying his shoes and walking barefooted along the smooth and rocky edge of the lake, that either of them really said anything.
"What's your problem with the whole love thing, anyway?" Cartman asked, and Kyle groaned, watching as a small minnows darted away from his legs. He really, really wanted to avoid this conversation but if Cartman was going to keep bringing it up, then fine. "Because it's bullshit, dude," Kyle said, rolling his eyes. He could hear the offended grunt from beside him, and Kyle turned his head from the water to look at his current companion. "It is, you know it."
He had to.
Cartman just looked pissy about it, though. "No, it's not. You're just hearing what you want to hear. That, and I think you think you're obligated to stay with your hipster douchebag. You know you're not, right?" He said, and Kyle folded his hands over his chest after throwing his running shoes across his shoulders, tied by the laces. Yes, of course he knew that! Pursing his lips, Kyle didn't respond immediately and Eric took it as an opportunity to continue.
"You wanna know what I think, Kyle?" Eric asked, and Kyle's answer was simple.
"No."
Cartman didn't listen, and Kyle hadn't expected him to anyway. "I think you're confusing loving Stan with being in love with Stan. I mean, everyone knows you love him. It's gross. Watching you two are sickening sometimes. But it isn't being in love. It's love, but it's not like how I feel about you." Kyle couldn't help but snort, before getting in a little jab. "Maybe that's because you don't know what love is."
He didn't seem to take offense to it, however. Instead, Cartman chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, I've been in love with you for a long time, Jewboy. I think I've got a decent grasp on it. It's not like I wanted to, I just do." Kyle stared at him for a few seconds, wondering if he was supposed to be flattered or not. He was being both insulted, yet told that Cartman loved him. No wonder Kyle was confused all the fucking time.
"You chose to love Stan, which is cool. It's like choosing your family, your friends are the family you chose or some shit. But you can't help who you fall in love with, and be honest, Kyle, you chose to be with Stan because he's the best option. The ideal mate. Strong, attractive, has a clear future and goal path. If you were a chick, you'd have picked him to give you the strongest, most attractive Jew babies. I mean, why not, right? Who wouldn't pick a future with a good looking dude, a future with a stable income and happy family? Fucking perfect, right? But you didn't decide to go for Stan because you're in love with him. You love the idea of what you and he are."
Kyle picked up the pace a little, trying to make this trip back to Kenny's truck quicker to end this conversation. "You're wrong, dude. I love Stan, okay? I don't know what to tell you, I'm not in love with you. I'm not leaving him for you." Kyle said, surprised at how unargumentative he sounded. It was just... fact. And he was tired of fighting, now. But Eric wasn't keen on ending this, apparently. Kyle sighed as he felt his hand wrap around his wrist, stopping Kyle from going further before yanking on it to turn him around.
"I'm not asking you to," Cartman said, face looking soft as he loosened his grip on Kyle's wrist. His hand slid down a few inches, and settled into a hand hold. Kyle didn't immediately wrench his hand away. Instead he found it... nice. He stood, waiting for Cartman to elaborate more, because there was clearly a proposition coming. "Go on, then," Kyle said after Eric hadn't said anything for a few moments.
"Lets be each other's side bitches," Eric said, voice flat. It was so absurd to hear those words said with such seriousness that Kyle couldn't help but start laughing. "You're such a romantic, Eric, wow. Take me now!" But Eric wasn't kidding, judging by the squeeze of his hand and no trace of amusement on Eric's face. Kyle bit into the inside of his lip, Cartman stepping a step closer. "I'm being serious. You can have the best of both worlds. Have your cake and eat it too. Me and Stan."
Kyle opened his mouth to protest. Say there was no way he was sleeping with Eric again. That there wasn't any possible way that would ever work. They couldn't make it work. But... they only had a few more weeks until they left for college. And they'd pulled it off pretty much successfully for almost a year, really. The fact that Kyle was contemplating his made him feel horrible inside, a real sack of shit. Eric had a point, in that maybe Kyle did chose Stan for convenience.
That was too harsh. Stan wasn't convenient. He was worth more than that. Cartman was right when he said ideal. Ideal. Stan was ideal. And he was, everything Cartman said he was and more than that. Kyle was lucky to have him. But the longer he thought about loving versus being in love with, he couldn't help but think maybe Eric had merit there. He wasn't in love with Cartman, but Kyle was beginning to doubt if he was in love with Stan. It wasn't like he'd really had any experience with anyone else besides Eric or Stan in the first place.
"You're making Stan happy," Eric whispered. "And what he won't know won't hurt him, and you know you feel something for me or we wouldn't be in this problem in the first place. So what's the harm? If he's none the wiser, and you're happier, what's to fucking lose?"
Everything. But Kyle didn't think of that now, figuring he was smart enough to make it work. Smart enough to work his away around any games Cartman's might be playing with him. Maybe Cartman was just promising things Kyle wanted to hear. Say that Kyle could make Stan happy, and be happy himself with Cartman at the same time, just to eventually swoop in when he had Kyle right where he wanted him and steal him away with Stan and not caring of the aftermath of it.
But Kyle, he wasn't going to think of that now. Not with Eric's hand wrapped in his own, the larger boy stepping closer and using his free hand to cup Kyle's cheek. "I love you, alright?" Eric spoke softly. "So if that means coming second place to Stan, then fine. But I don't want to give this up, it fucking sucks. I miss you."
Kyle swallowed, nodding his head lightly before tilting up onto his toes to press a small kiss against Eric's lips. He considered it a slight victory, though in the back of his head, he was already compiling a new list of why this shouldn't happen. Why he shouldn't listen and fall for what was surely a manipulation tactic. He could deal with that later.
"Where the fuck have you two been?" Kenny asked, standing up the moment he saw Kyle and Eric walk up the shore and to the truck. They had walked most of the way hand in hand, not really talking. Kyle spent it thinking, and wondering what was going on in Eric's head. They had dropped their hands when they first saw the truck, and Kyle's signature pissy face was plastered on again.
"Fatass got us lost," Kyle explained, sitting down on a cooler with a huff. Kenny tossed him a bottle of water that he was grateful for, the sun growing hot in the afternoon. Stan sat down beside him, looking up at Cartman. "Really?" Kyle could hear the amusement in Stan's voice.
"No, Kyle got sand in his vagina and stormed off and got us off the trail," Eric countered. Kyle watched as he grabbed a bag of chips and ripped it open. Kyle would have argued, if that honestly wasn't the case. But he thought more of how they'd gotten lost in the first place, and even though Eric was the reason Kyle stomped away, he was the one who ran off the trail in the first place.
Which meant his silence was an admission of guilt, so Kyle looked away, innocently chugging his bottle of water as if it was no big deal.