A/N: Oh, man, I... I don't know what to say. Almost 40... almost 40 reviews on the last chapter alone. Are you serious. ARE. YOU. SERIOUS? Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. And I mean, I'm amazed. With an obscure pairing like this? Hell, half of the people in the fandom probably don't (or didn't) know who Kevin even is. I'm amazed. I'm just speechless...

... Well, here you go. Second to last chapter. This story is rated M now. That should give you enough warning. The main objective from zeromotion for me to write this was for them to have sex. But I couldn't just up and make a lemon with Kevin and Clyde with no development. I mean, even though this is sort of a one night stand thing, I still kind of wanted it to mean something... and I hope it works. And I hope the fact that Kevin tops will work... Clyde was just too bottomy in this story. So there's that.

Another thing. Sorry if any of you... Chinese speakers (and I know you're out there) notice mistakes in the romanizations of Chinese. It's kind of from the mixture of a translator and my friend Raymond who does speak Chinese. And even if the Chinese is incorrect, I don't think Kevin would be ridiculously fluent anyway... he'd be a bit rusty. And I don't want to be a weeaboo or anything but, without hearing the words verbally pronounced, it does process as sounding like Japanese in my head. :| So read it however you like. And if you speak Chinese, don't maim me, okay?

Also, don't worry if you don't know the songs or anything. This fic's already full of music, but when the story's done, there'll be a link to a playlist on my profile. I don't expect a lot of you to listen to it, but I recommend that you do so you can just know what the hell they're hearing. And if you're anything like me, you get excited about music that goes with your fic and kind of helps bring it to life.

Next thing, I tried to incorporate as much canon into this as possible. Let's see if you can catch what I put in there. But I'm just gonna make this explicit and out there, about Clyde's colostomy. Yeah, that was in that episode... The Mystery of the Urinal Deuce, right? Yeah. Those things can be temporary, I've read. So he'd just have a scar.

And there's that. And then, next update... April 7th, it's set. I'm not caving in. That's the day the 200th episode of SP airs. I mean, it's kind of an epic day for, you know, the show that's the reason this whole thing even exists. So, like, leave your reviews. Beat the almost 40? I dunno if we can. But take a shot.

I'm gonna shut up now. Enjoy. Seriously.

XIV. Kryptonite

And I'm back in the cardboard box with him. I'm back in the same place I started, with the zebra-print sheets, and the control panel drawn on with marker, and the orange traffic cone cockpit, and the cartoon stars outside the window. And he was kissing me after the third time he'd technically saved my life. He didn't go very far. In fact, he wasn't even kissing me. His lips were just touching mine, saying a quick "hello, how are you, nice to meet you, maybe we should get to know each other." He's probably waiting for me to say no. But I was waiting for him to keep on going.

"Why aren't you...?" I said against him. I bet he couldn't even hear me.

"If you... want..." he spoke back against me.

"Only..." I whispered, but then I brought him closer to me, so we could kiss the right way. The way I wanted to.

He parts from me a little too much quicker than I would have liked, and he just sits in front of me, looking down at me, lying on my back. "I feel like you don't want this," he said.

"Well, of course I—" I started, but I didn't know how to end it. It was another confusing word thing - the word "want." What does that even mean, anyway? There's lots of cinnamon - no, synonyms for the word "want." Like... desire. That one sounds prettier, and it means almost the same thing, doesn't it? Kind of. And then "need" is way different. Like, that means you just can't not have it. I mean, I didn't need to be doing this with Kevin right now. Did I? What would happen if I didn't?

But what would happen if I did?

"I do," I said. Man, I wasn't getting married to the guy. Chill, Clyde. "I do want it."

The current song, it leaned towards the end as Kevin leaned down toward me, holding me by my neck - but he wasn't, like, choking me - it was more like he was securing me. ("The greatest thing you can ever do, now, is trade a smile with someone who's blue, now...")

"Stay still," he whispered. ("It's very easy, it's very easy...")

Secured in his hold, he kissed me. And it doesn't feel trippy or weird or even pedal-to-the-metal insane. It just feels right, if that makes any sense at all. How much more sense could that make? The word "right," is supposed to help things make more sense...

Right?

The only thing that was right here was that this made no sense to me. How I started walking into a comic store in search for a single comic and ended up in a cardboard spaceship, kissing Kevin Stoley made not a lot of sense to me, yet it was happening. And it was cool, yeah.

And that's really all I can describe it as.

Just cool. Or, if you want, I could use those other words that could make this work - like, he was kissing me deeply, with passion, and his lips were soft - because they were. His lips were really, really soft, and he had this taste that was tasteless. Does that make sense? He didn't taste like anything, and I really liked that - I mean, someone could taste really, really bad, and sometimes it's weird when someone tastes super good, because then it seems like they prepared for a kiss in advance. And that's weird. Kevin's tasteless lips had to have been the best things I ever tasted.

He kept on kissing me, and I tried to kiss back, but he was really taking over. I didn't know if it was first time or not. Well, if it was his first time just kissing in general. Not that I had much to compare it to, but I thought he was really, really good at it, too. I mean, he moved his lips like he knew what he was doing, and it was almost as if he didn't care what I had to do, it was all him. And that was okay with me. I let him take control. I let him keep my head in his hands and hold me close, like he was dedicated, like he would save my life or something from it, since he had a habit of doing that.

And we were both sweating a little bit - we were both burning, actually. He knew, I knew, because our sweat droplets were mixing with each other, sort of - so, trying to still stay as close to me as possible, Kevin took off his hoodie, and I took off my sweatshirt. We threw them overboard the ship and he continued to secure me down, to keep me against the stripes. He started to get real touchy-feely, because his hands started to lose control. Mine did, too, and I didn't want them to. I wanted to keep them down while Kevin did the work, because even though he gave off that vibe that it was his first time, he was really, really pretty good at this.

I pushed him away lightly, not in a sort of "get your filthy hands off of me" fashion, but more like a "hold on a second" fashion. I sat up a little bit. I looked at him, breathing hard like he does, kind of glowing at the sides from the colors of the light sabers. I started to ask, "Are you going to...?"

"If you want," he breathed.

My stomach got that feeling again. Maybe it was butterflies. But, that sounds gay.

"Well, have you ever...?"

"No," Kevin said. "You?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, alright, then." And that was all he said. It was quick, simple. He moved his hands in this weird way. And I didn't speak sign language, and it probably wasn't even sign language, but I think it meant, "Well, I want to."

And I nodded, and I'm pretty sure that meant "yes" in any language.

And the record skipped a beat, along with my heart.

The record skipped to a song that started off slowly. A few guitar notes, and then a beat kicks in, even slower.

Kevin started off by taking off his shirt, and I could finally see those hips. It's no wonder he touches them so much. He threw his shirt overboard, too. He reached his hands out towards me, and I came closer, sitting up now. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me again, much like the first time, only everything about it has been multiplied by like, five. And I'm no good at math. His hands crawled down my back, inching for the bottom hem to take it off of me. He began to take it off slowly, yet still anxiously, but I whispered, "Wait."

"What is it?" he said.

"Can you... can you turn off the lights? Or close your eyes?" I asked. "I don't want you to see me."

Kevin's eyes gleamed, sort of, with this dark disappointment in me. His eyes were dark, but still seemed to be colored by all four of the light sabers. "No," he said. "I want to see you." He lightly pushed me down on my back again. He went to take off my shirt, but I held his wrist to stop him.

"Wait," I said, again. I could tell Kevin was all, "ugh, what is it now?" but I just wanted him to enjoy this the right way. "The scar," I said. And then he gave me that look that meant, "dude, that battle didn't really happen," so I had to keep on explaining. "I had surgery. I have a scar on my stomach." I did have a scar on my stomach, from my colostomy, from when I was really little. But it was only temporary - everything is, er, normal now. It was just the scar.

He looked at me like he was very unamused, and he really wanted to get on with it. He took off my shirt, anyway, and I didn't stop him. And he just looked at me. And I didn't want him to. ("Working from seven to eleven every night...")

"I'm just—" Uch, I don't even understand how he could really... even look at me. "I'm sorry." ("It really makes life a drag...")

"Don't apologize," he said, touching his fingertips to my chest. He trailed downward, tracing his fingers along the scar. "You're really... soft." He kept tracing downward until he got to my belt. ("I've really been the best of fools... I did what I could.")

The belt buckle.

The Superman belt buckle that I spent twenty dollars and fifty cents on - I guess it was worth every penny. Maybe. But it's funny. When Kevin loosened it, I realized how much he weakens me. I let him take over me, and he secures me down the way he wants to. He wanted to see me, so I let him. He weakened me, a lot like Kryptonite. Any Gelgamek-asskicking powers I might have had before, if any, are being drained.

And then he slowed down again.

With my belt half undone, he put his hand on my stomach again. He touched the scar, and leaned closer. His lips are hot on mine as he whispers, "You still have sauce around your mouth."

"Really?" I said, just a little louder. "Where?"

"Here, stupid." And he kissed me, and even the fact that he called me 'stupid' just totally washed away because that didn't even matter right now. He licked all around my mouth, and I was sure, at that point, that there never really was any sauce around my mouth in the first place. Kevin, I've learned, is a tricky bastard.

("But, baby, since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.")

And his hand lowered back to where it was meant to be. Before he touched me, I knew he wanted to get everything off first. I helped kick off the jeans, and he threw them overboard along with the rest of the clothes floating in oblivion (I'm sure I got that right this time). And I was only left in my boxers, completely vulnerable to him, whatever that means. And getting even more vulnerable by the second as he slowly, really damn slowly, pulled down my boxers, and...

Yeah.

It was there, Kevin saw it with his own two (pretty, uch, am I allowed to say they're pretty?) eyes. And I guess he didn't really know what to do with it, and I wouldn't really know what to do with it either, and he did what I would do - he just grabbed it. And that was cool, you know. It felt really nice, because he started doing that pumping thing, and to avoid that awkward eye contact that's kind of like, "yes, I am, indeed, giving you a hand job," he went in for a kiss. Still pumping, kind of slowly, then fast, but it's easy to tell that he was going with the music.

I was already erect, goddammit. And he just stopped again.

"Why did you—" He cut me off with another kiss.

"Wèishéme wo cónglái..." he whispered against my ear, "méiyou yìshí dào..." and even softer, "wo shì duōme ài ni?"

I had no idea what he said, and I didn't even want to know. Everything sounds better in different language. Especially during something like this...

He kissed my ear. "Ni shì wánměi de."

He touched me again, and pumped slow.

"Don't stop," I said, and I was hoping that it didn't kill the mood just because I said it in English. ("Lord, you know it ain't right, but since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.")

Kevin, even without saying anything, promised he wouldn't stop unless I told him to. He lied his head in the crook of my neck, with his hair sticking to my face from all the moisture - I whispered to him to go faster, and he did. Even if he did make me weaker, I was his Kryptonite, too.

While he was still against me, I had to let my hands wander. I may not have been able to control them as much as I wanted to, but they went where they wanted to go. And I agreed with them. They found their way over to Kevin's own pants, and, well, I'd never really done any of this stuff before... not even with a girl... but I've seen some movies. I think I'm supposed to do this. But I don't think, "fuck me with your hot five-dollar footlong," is really going to get me anywhere. I thought Kevin would have appreciated it if I had asked nicely, maybe.

"Please?" I squeaked, tugging on his pants by a belt loop. I don't know what sort of facial expression I was, ah, expressing, but I think it was just short of puppy-dog eyes. Kevin smiled.

"Of course," he said. He began to undo his belt, which was just plain black without a superhero buckle, but just the sounds of the belt undoing, clinking and brushing against the denim, was inviting. But, I stopped him again, for two reasons. The first one being, I wanted to undress him myself. Even though I still wanted to stay on the polite side, I abruptly pushed his hands out of the way of his own button and zipper, and undid it as quickly as possible. When he was down to his boxers, I laughed - leave it to Kevin to have boxers covered in crossword puzzles.

"Crossword puzzles?" I said, giggling a bit. I turned my head a little bit to try to read the words. They were all hard and long ones, like pneumonic, Czechoslovakia, trigonometric, ptarmigan, subpoena, sacrilegious, rheumatic, posthumous, peignoir, and onomatopoeia...

Speaking of long and hard things, that's what Kevin's was. Well, maybe it wasn't so long. I don't really know what to consider long, but it was hard. And since I was probably just about as clueless about what to do with it as Kevin probably was, I grabbed his, and I didn't squeeze too hard, nor too soft, and Kevin moaned right away.

I gripped his shoulder with my other available hand and brought him towards me, so our lips could crash again.

"Ni shì wo de," he moaned into my mouth, and I just groaned back into him because that could have been in any language I wanted. I could have groaned in Italian.

He held my face with both of his hands. His right hand was a little sticky from my own cum, while at the same time, mine was getting sticky with his. With the white stuff getting on the sheets, maybe zebras were white with black stripes, after all.

And then he went for my neck. His tongue was warm, and probably even more wet after profusely swapping spit with me, whatever that means - either way, it still felt like I had died and gone to Heaven, only not really, because Kevin would have saved my life before that could even happen, anyway.

I must have tasted like diet Pepsi to him, because he was moaning loudly as he trailed up to my ear lobe, and licked that again, whispering something like, "Ni shì wo de, ni bù wàngjì tā." I would do anything to know what he was saying to me...

He sat up and started to pull me upwards. I had let go of him, and he was already reaching for the part of me that was normally used as an exit, but for Kevin, it was an entrance. I had to wonder why I had to be the girl here, but I didn't want to ask him. Maybe it's because I was weaker, but I knew I could get him to do what I want. Who was the weaker one? It was probably me, since I had to stop him one more time.

Kevin crooked his head to the right. His left, my right. "Hm?"

"Do you have a...?"

Kevin looked more sad than I'd ever seen him. Maybe it was sadness, probably shame, I don't know. The words on his boxers that were thrown to an opposite corner of the ship wouldn't help me figure out a word. He shook his head.

"Well... it's both our first times, isn't it?" he said.

"Well, yeah," I said.

"Then we shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"But what about...?"

Kevin spit on his hands.

Oh, okay.

He reached for the entrance/exit, and I kept my head leaning back. And then when he touched me with the tips of his fingers, I let out a little breath. I felt his hands jolt away for a second, and then he went back to it. He did it really carefully, and it wasn't hurting for only a few moments.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"You might as well," I said. "It's okay."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he said. "Continue?" I smiled a bit, because I was pretty sure I might have been the only one who could have noticed he was referring to continue screens on video games. He started to countdown. "Nine, eight, seven, six..."

"Start," I said.

The game wasn't over.

"Don't go too hard, though. Please. My butt's kinda... sensitive," I said. I did have quite a few experiences with my butt that weren't too great. I was trusting Kevin that this wouldn't be another one.

"I won't."

"Not too fast, either. I know how you get motion sickness," I said.

"I can't believe you remember that."

"Just go."

One finger, two fingers, three fingers, dick? Not exactly. He took it slow, like I asked him to. When he entered, it felt...

Well, I screamed.

He made me scream. A sort of scream I never screamed before. Different from a moan, but not exactly on the complete opposite end of that. Kevin was trying not to make such loud noises, but a lot of moans made their way through. With my legs in the air, he was able to rest his forehead against mine, and I could see him. I could see his unique, almost-almond shaped dark eyes. I kissed him, and he was even warmer than before. Sweating even more.

It hurt so much, but I didn't want him to stop. I told him so, "don't stop," and he did as he was told. But he did stop, somewhere along the way. ("Said I've been crying - my tears, they fell like rain, don't you hear - don't you hear them falling?")

"Why did you stop?" I asked.

"Why are you crying?" he said.

It hurt. It just hurt. I threw my head back. "J-Just keep going... agh..." I hiccupped, and sniffed. "Augh!"

"Ssshhh," Kevin hushed, cupping my warm, teary face in his hand, "you're bleeding. I can pull out. Qing bùyào kū, qīnài de." His lips touched my neck.

("Don't you hear - don't you hear them falling?")

And I felt him beginning to pull out, but I grabbed his shoulder. "N-No," I choked out. "Please... go... all the way."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I cried.

"Alright," Kevin confirmed, politely, and he began to penetrate again, without necessarily thrusting into me like he was fitting a square into a circle, or doing me like he hated me, and he wasn't fucking me, either. I wrapped my legs around his thin hips, hugging him closer, so he could get where he needed to be.

We were both moaning, but the noise was cut off when we locked lips. I don't know, but he might have been crying, too. I could be wrong. It might have been just sweat.

He breathed hard onto me, and we were both sure that he had reached—what's the word?—climax. He even thrust in more, just to get as far as he could get. My nails dug into his skinny back, and he held my fleshy shoulders. Our chests were against each other, and I was sure that he was sweating more than I was.

"Tā mā de!" he cried, angrily enough that I sort of guessed that it was a Chinese swear. "Kè lái dé, zhiyào ni zhīdào..."

He said my name. I know he did.

And without asking me, he began to pull out. Sort of fast, too. I screamed again, and he ceased pulling out for a second. He went back, slowly, but still painful.

"Ngh," I groaned, and let a last tear drip off my face.

("I've been working from seven, seven, seven to eleven, every night. It kinda makes my life a drag, a drag, drag, it makes a drag, baby, since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose, I'm about to lose, lose my worried mind!")