A/N: Of COURSE this chapter would be the longest of the story so far did you expect anything less?

Enjoy~

The car hadn't moved from in front of the house for hours, and Kenny just couldn't stop staring at it. He didn't even flinch as Stan walked into the house as he arrived from picking up groceries, eyes tracing lazily over the silver SUV parked across the street. "Uh, Ken?" Stan raised his brow. "You all right?"

"The cops are here," he muttered, glaring at the passengers in the vehicle, hoping that they saw the fury over his face.

Stan blinked, walking up next to him and looking out the window, glancing up and down the street as he slid his shopping bags down off his arms onto the floor. "Where?"

He tilted his head up, "There. They've been there for four hours and haven't fucking moved. Haven't gotten out or anything. They're fucking staking me out."

Stan sighed, rubbing his shoulder. "Ken, I'm sure that's not it."

He looked at him and narrowed his eyes, "Stan, they think I killed Kyle. Yates would go ahead and arrest me and put me in the fucking chair if it wasn't for him needing evidence," he rolled his eyes. He groaned, slamming his head against his arms on the window sill.

"The chances of you getting on death row in Colorado is pretty slim, Hon," Wendy said as she emerged from the kitchen.

"Gee. Thanks," he mumbled from his arms. Stan kissed her briskly, making sure to not let Kenny see lest he have another full-fledged breakdown over how much he wanted to kiss Kyle again.

She sat down next to him on the window bench and rubbed his back soothingly. "Sweetie, everything's going to be all right."

He looked at her shadily. "You realize what them showing up today means, right?" She cocked her head and he groaned, "It means they talked to Tucker. And he fucking smooth talked his way out of it. So now I'm back to being the prime suspect."

"Why send someone to stake you out though?" Stan asked, sitting on his opposite side and glaring at the vehicle.

"Because. They think I know where Ky is," he said miserably. "I mean, I do, but I don't know where Craig has him stashed..." he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair and sighed. "They probably think that if I didn't kill him, I'll have to go back and feed him or something," he growled.

Wendy hugged him around his shoulders, rubbing his arm gently. "Ken, we'll find him," she promised.

"How?" he pleaded. "For the love of God, Wendy, you're the smartest person I know besides Kyle. How do I fix this?" he asked desperately.

She bit her lip, glancing between him and the SUV. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "But we'll think of something. That pig-headed dick isn't going to keep him, I promise." Kenny sniffled, wiping his eyes and shaking his head. She sighed sadly, "Hon, you need to get some sleep. You're killing yourself."

"I've slept," he muttered.

"Taking a half hour nap every day isn't helping," Stan said firmly. "Go get some actual sleep. You'll think clearer."

Ken looked at him with glistening blue eyes, "But Kyle-"

"Needs you to be able to figure this out," he cut him off. "Kenny, please. You can't do anything with them out there anyway," he gestured towards the cops. "We'll wake you up if we think of anything, okay? Just go rest," he dropped into a gentler tone. Kenny opened his mouth to protest before his sagging eyes told him otherwise.

He looked between the both of them and sighed, "Thanks for letting me stay here, guys," he whispered.

"You need to stop thanking us," Wendy smiled sadly. "You know you're welcome to stay as long as you need to. Now go sleep."

He nodded, giving them both a quick hug before standing from the bench. He threw a last sneer at the cops before making his way to the guest room, the couple watching him with miserable eyes.

"Oh, Stan," Wendy breathed as Kenny closed the door. "I really don't know what to do here."

"Me neither," he murmured, moving closer and wrapping his arm around her. He leaned his head on hers and took a deep breath. "God I just hope he's alive, Wends," he whispered miserably.

She kissed his cheek and nodded, "Me, too. But...I think he is."

"You think so?"

"If what Cartman said is true...if Craig had a thing for Kyle...I don't think he'd kill him."

"No," he muttered, putting his chin on her hair and looking back out the window. "He'd do even worse." He let out a soft sniffle, trying to contain himself and letting Wendy wrap around him as he buried his head into her shoulder. She stroked his back gently, tears dripping down her own cheeks.

Kenny stood up from against the door, heart dropping miserably at the eavesdropped words. He walked over to the bed, collapsing face first and sobbing into the pillow brokenly. He slammed his fist into the mattress, gritting his teeth. He was fucking stuck. He couldn't get to Kyle, he couldn't prove himself innocent, he couldn't get the cops to fucking listen. He sniffled, glancing up and out the window at the morning light shining brightly in his eyes. He bit his lip and shook his head, closing his eyes and sinking despairingly into his pillow. The hard truth was just staring him right in the face: No matter how horrible he felt, he could only imagine Kyle was feeling a million times worse.

Morning came far too soon, and Kyle found himself waking to the sound of Lila's claws clacking against the kitchen tile. She licked his cheek and he hissed, shoving her away. He yelped as a shoe slammed into his stomach, jolting him to attention and looking to see Craig staring down on him disapprovingly. "You don't push her, are we clear?" he said lowly.

Kyle nodded silently, grasping at his injured stomach and sniffling.

"Good," Craig nodded. "Why don't you make some breakfast while I take her out?" he said, not giving him a moment to respond as he led the dog out into the cold. Kyle watched the door close and blinked, rubbing the restless sleep from his eyes. He sighed, forcing himself to shakily get back onto his aching legs. He hissed, left leg throbbing from yesterday's exertion. He grabbed onto the counter, slowly making his way down towards the fridge and ripping it open, staring blankly at the options in front of him.

Oh, how he wished he could feed the noirette dog shit.

He bit his lip, wincing as he hit some swelling from another well-placed punch from the night before, shaking his head. He had to make the food, he couldn't deal with getting wailed on again. He groaned in pain, grabbing eggs, milk, butter, and cheese from the fridge and hip-bumping it closed. He placed his materials on the counter and sighed, grabbing an onion and pepper from the produce basket beside of him and tossing them down angrily. This was fucking ridiculous. Hell, he didn't make Kenny breakfast, telling him to make his own goddamn Frosted Flakes since he took care of the other two meals.

He limped over, digging through cabinets and finding a cutting board and bowl, placing them down and ripping a chef's knife from the replaced block. He grabbed the onion, starting to cut with shaking hands, his eyes flickering to the stainless steel bowl beside of him glistening in the kitchen light. He blinked, abandoning his work for a moment and grabbing the bowl, staring at his reflection and nearly crying out at what stared back at him. His face was a disaster. Bruised eyes, cheeks, and chin. Cuts plotted about every few inches. His nose was slightly swollen, lip right alongside it. He tilted his head up and his shoulders dropped, the indentation of his collar and the clear mark of Craig's hands, lips, and teeth spelled out clearly across his paled skin.

He gulped, putting the bowl back and his jaw trembled. He blankly went back to work on his vegetables, staring at them but not quite seeing. What could he do? He didn't even know Craig was as strong as he was, and if he were to harbor a guess, he figured Kenny didn't either. Otherwise he probably would've told Kyle to absolutely stay far away from him.

He sniffled a bit, eyes stinging with misery and onion, shaking his head slowly. What if this was it? What if the rest of his life was going to be him chained to the fucking radiator making meals for the boy holding him hostage? He slowly dumped his minced onion into a smaller bowl atop the counter, going to work on his pepper and glancing at the gleam of his knife.

He wouldn't let it come to that.

He could stab him. Stab him right through the fucking eye. Make him scream and beg for mercy before Kyle let it fly through his mouth that spat such vile, evil words; The mouth that was trying to claim him, trying to mark him in a way that overshadowed every love bite he'd ever received from Kenny. He could stab straight through down into his throat, watch him choke on the substance he so easily spilled from his prisoner. The redhead growled, the blade slicing viciously through the vegetable. He could do it. He could kill him. He could make that fuck regret every fucking second. Then he'd just steal the keys, take his truck, and run back to Kenny's arms. Punch the fucking cops in the face for believing that the blonde would ever hurt him. He'd get off scot-free, no doubt. This was self defense. A poor victim who saw his opportunity to free himself from his servitude and took it. People would congratulate him. They'd tell him 'thank god you got away from him, I wish you could've killed him sooner'. Kenny would be proud of him for fighting his way out, hold him and tell him how happy he was for what Kyle had done.

He'd be so happy. Happy and free. No more collars, despite Kenny's collection for him. Those were just going to have to go after this. No more chains. No more cold. No more being treated as less than human. He'd go back to Kenny treating him like a fucking prince like he always had, being spoiled and loved and eating up every minute of it. He'd get his bed, his books, Kenny's arms. He'd get everything. And he had the tool to do it.

His arm was shaking in adrenaline, pupils mere pinpoints as a madness racked through him. He was nobody's fucking housewife. And he was not about to be Craig fucking Tucker's.

He yelped as a strong hand snared his left arm and ripped him around, the knife dropping from his hand and clattering on the ground as Craig crowded him against the counter. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked, anger edging his tone.

Kyle's gaze flickered to the knife fallen by his foot and his lip curled, revealing a canine. His last bit of energy was finally flaring. It was now or never. "What's it matter to you?"

"Seems to me that we were having little dreams of rebellion, weren't we?" he narrowed his eyes. "And after me giving you so much roaming room? Broflovski, that just won't do," he hissed.

Kyle sneered as the boy grabbed his other arm, planting them both down firmly against the counter, his back bending awkwardly in the position. "Just fucking kill me, Tucker," he hissed, getting a surprised look from him. "I'm not going to be yours, so you may as well just fucking get it over with," he snarled.

Craig shook his head. "I'm not getting rid of you. Because I'm not too fond of losing my things," he emphasized.

"I'm not yours, and I'm not a fucking THING!" he screamed, thrashing around and kicking at him weakly.

Craig rolled his eyes. He figured this was a long time coming, but he just had to pick today to do it, didn't he? He leaned down against the shaking boy and took a deep, hot breath against him. "You are mine," he bit. "And I'm going to show you just how much of a thing you are," he snapped, whirling him around and shoving him down against the counter. Kyle shrieked as his head collided against the side of the heavy bowl before slamming atop the granite surface. He tried to break away, breath catching as Craig put him back in the all-too-familiar position of his hands trapped at the small of his back. He screamed furiously, thrashing as Craig struggled to re-trap his hands. He managed to eek one out of the hold and send it flying back, smashing against Craig's brow bone. The noirette growled, grabbing the flyaway and managing to tightly capture the wrists together, making sure to make the ties tight enough for Kyle to feel every ridge sinking into his porcelain skin.

"No! Stop!" he demanded, wriggling around as Craig hefted him up, unlocking his chain and letting it drop to the ground before beginning to force him into a walk through the kitchen. Kyle shot his head around, biting towards him viciously, a part of him just snapping with the possibilities of pain he could cause the monster holding him. He screeched as Craig kicked his bad leg and sent him stumbling to the floor. He groaned, eyes widening as a hand snared his collar, starting to drag him forward. Gasping for breath, water drowning his eyes, his knees tried to bring him closer to the slack. He struggled forward, vision clearing long enough to see he was being dragged towards the bedroom.

A wet gasp escaped his lips, the redhead screaming nonsense as he tried to escape the hold. Craig rolled his eyes, stopping for a moment beside the couch and ripping off cushions. He opened his compartment, snaring a handful of bungee cords before nonchalantly continuing to lug him along. Craig finally got the squirmy Jew into the room reaching under his bound arms around his waist. A smooth pivot was all it took for him to lob the lightweight down onto the bed. Kyle squeaked as he landed face-first on the mattress, trying to find his balance to get up, mind spinning. He could run again. He could throw himself out the fucking window if he had to. Because this was simply not a fucking option.

Craig kicked the door shut, approaching his prey slowly, watching Kyle wriggling around and trying to break his restraints. He rolled his grey eyes. So stubborn. He sauntered over and kneeled on the bed, tossing his tools beside him and grabbing Kyle's hip, flipping him onto his back. They stared at each other, Craig's casual air igniting the fire in Kyle's battered eyes. "YOU FUCK!" he screamed, kicking and thrashing. Craig winced as he managed to get a good blow to his stomach, growling predatorily. He violently slid Kyle up the length of the bed, the boy yelping as his head collided with the metal bars at the forefront. "Stop!" he demanded, trying to shake off the dizziness spawning once more.

Craig furrowed his brow, this was not how he wanted today to go, but, knowing Kyle, he was more than prepared. He tore open his nightstand, snagging his navy cloth and shoving it over Kyle's eyes. His body erupted in panic, flailing under Craig's restraining weight as he was deprived of his sight. A soft cry pressed through as his curls tangled in the knot, eyes stinging. Kyle shook his head, growling as Craig pressed his forehead against his and turning to the side. He felt Craig's lips tracing over his skin, the ever-present threat of choking to death on his own goddamn vomit rearing its ugly head once again at the sensation.

He felt Craig moving just enough off his legs for him to begin kicking again, stopping only as a heavy fist slammed against his face right under his temple and rendered him immobile for a few moments. Craig quickly tore the boxers down the boy's legs while he had the chance, Kyle coming back to consciousness as he grabbed under his right thigh and pressed the leg up towards his shoulder. Kyle shook his head sporadically, listlessly trying to kick, mind set on a whirlwind of self-destruction. He couldn't keep up. He knew exactly what was happening, but he couldn't figure out how to stop it.

Biting nylon slipped under the back of his knee and he blinked, feeling the stretch of elastic expanding and catching the fine hairs of his skin. Metal against metal clanged above his head, Craig moving silently as he kept his left thigh pinned under his own leg. "Good boy," he murmured mindlessly, wrapping his cord around Kyle's lower thigh, connecting the two metal links and backing off, smirking satisfactorily. Kyle hissed, trying to lower his leg, heart hitching as he remained snared against the headboard. He whined, arching up off the bed and trying to fight his way down.

"Craig, NO!" he screamed, feeling his other leg beginning to be subjected to the same abuse, coughing at his lungs constricting as his body was folded. He tried arching up again, biting his cheek at the inability to do so, pinned by his compromised position. His hands were going numb under his back, his left leg screaming in agony at being restrained as it was. He felt the hands leave his leg, the ties secure and he groaned, losing his adrenaline and losing it fast. The humiliation was barely there; Only anger and fear. That incessant reasoning of his was beginning to crawl back into the corners of his weary mind. He hadn't won any battle, this one wasn't looking too hopeful either.

He hissed, feeling Craig leaning between his spread legs and turning his head again as he came up, kissing his neck tenderly. Craig was beside himself, overwhelmed with the reality of what was taking place. He slowly grabbed the knife from his pocket, tearing his shirt lying atop Kyle's skin. He could feel Kyle's rapid heartbeat, the cries building so fluidly in his chest. Fingers brushed against smooth skin as he worked his way up to the shirt collar, ripping it through, looking as Kyle yelped loudly. He glanced down, seeing he'd caught the side of his throat just enough for a thin trail of blood to bead against his skin. He tossed his knife to the side, opening the split of his shirt to reveal Kyle's narrow, rapidly expanding chest. He smiled. He was perfect.

Those stubbed nails traced genially along Kyle's skin, the redhead completely frozen. He could barely breathe, subject to nothing but the sensation of touch. Touches by the man who fucking stole him. Hot breath splashing over his bared skin, fingertips playing so casually with him, as though his body belonged to them.

He whimpered as Craig kissed his chest and back up his neck, feeling him pressing his hips against his ass. "God...don't," he pleaded, tears dampening his blindfold.

"Shh," Craig said, drinking in every bit of Kyle's vulnerability like the finest of wines. He wanted to savor this, wanted to swirl it around his palate. Indulge in the spiced essence lied out before him so prettily, concocted from Earth and Heaven alike for his pleasure. He would be intoxicated, completely poisoned by the boy beneath him. Falling into his swathing embrace, he would drown in his kind, warming soul.

He groaned, pressing his hips against him harder, nearly shaking with need. Kyle's jaw fumbled, unable to think through the situation clearly. All he could think was 'run' and 'Kenny, help'. Neither was exactly feasible, but he was too tired, too terrified, too beaten into the dirt to form a cohesive plan for escape. Calloused hands gripped his cheeks, turning him back upright. He cried out as lips pressed against his own, senses overflowing with the disgusting element that was Craig. Better judgement fled in his heightened terror, teeth flying open and down onto Craig's lip, shaking his head and tasting copper flowing onto his tongue. He screamed as yet another blow reigned upon his cheekbone, jaw parting and head snapping to the side.

Craig tongued over his bitten lip hungrily, sitting up and tracing his hands along Kyle's slender waist, rounding down and cupping his ass, watching amusedly as the boy began to quake. "Don't do this," Kyle breathed, eyes shut under his blindfold as he battled dizziness and nausea.

"I'm not stopping," he said simply, reaching back into his drawer and grabbing his bottle of lube, unable to tear his eyes from the feast awaiting him.

"Craig, please, stop," he begged. "If you love me, you won't," he emphasized, resisting the instinct to retch at the phrase.

"You're right, I love you," he echoed, smirking at Kyle's slight cringe. "And that's why I'm giving you an option," he said casually, stroking a finger up the back of a propped thigh. Kyle's heart leapt. He could have an out. Maybe he could avoid this. Craig smiled, grabbing his ass and hearing Kyle suppressing a scream. He chuckled, cupping his chin with one hand and stroking his cheek. "Beg me for it, and tell me you love me, and you get prepped properly," he taunted.

Kyle's jaw dropped, eyes blown wide under their covering. He wouldn't. "You can't be serious," he whispered.

"Oh, I'm dead serious," he countered, slowly undoing his jeans, pushing the denim and his boxers down around his knees as he stared at the dumbfounded boy. "So, what's it gonna be?" he asked, eyes half lidded as he emptied a good amount of lube onto his skin, slowly stroking a thick sheen over his throbbing cock.

The redhead felt the world crumbling around him. This was it. He was choosing how to be fucking raped by a lunatic. He'd take living in that cage over this. "Don't," he tried again.

"Not an option, Broflovski," he murmured, grey tracing along the curves of Kyle's bent body. "Figure it out or I make the choice for you."

The redhead's eyes slipped closed, tears leaking down his temples under his blindfold. "I'm not begging you for shit," he snapped. He was sealing his own fate, he knew he was. But he just would not give Craig the satisfaction of hearing him beg, not for this. And telling him he loved him was so far out of the realm of possibility that Craig may as well have shouted it from fucking Mercury. "You're just adding to your criminal charges, you piece of shit!" he spat.

Craig smirked and shook his head, releasing his glistening cock and leaning back over the boy, feeling him shaking as he ground against him. "Well then, why don't we start racking up the allegations?" he murmured along his cheek. He felt Kyle go rigid, stroking his cock along the boy's exposed form. Kyle leaned his head back, holding in a sob of helplessness as he felt Craig beginning to break through. He screeched through his teeth, unable to so much as move. He was going to rip, Craig was going to tear him the fuck apart, and the sick fuck was enjoying it. Craig didn't give him any time to adjust, sinking down into his unwelcoming body, shuddering at the warmth and the welcoming tightness clamping around him. Kyle gasped for air as Craig finally reached his end, pressed against his ass and staring down at him excitedly.

A red mouth was open in breathy cries, bruised and cut throat bared as he weakly fought for distance. His entire body was taut, muscles standing out against the thin flesh for Craig to enjoy. Kyle was on the brink of madness, unable to find the air to cry as Craig began to move. His muscles were flaring angrily, the minimal lube doing nothing but aiding the burn and the obvious tears along.

"Jesus Christ," Craig whispered, putting his forehead against Kyle's, hips slowly rolling against him. His fists clenched on either side of Kyle's trapped arms, jaw quivering at the tight heat around him. This definitely explained why Kenny was always so happy when he came to see Craig after a little 'session' with the redhead.

Kyle's mind couldn't seem to stay grounded, intrusive flashbacks of his first time sneaking through the horror, trying to remind him of something a bit less awful in comparison. It had been his biggest mistake, meeting with a man ten years his senior. He wasn't sure how to proceed, too nervous to ask about things like lube and condoms, and the man just wanted to fuck him. The prep was nonexistent, the pain was horrible and he couldn't sit properly for a week. It nearly scared him off of sex entirely until he finally figured out what was supposed to be done, every partner since then not allowed to touch him until they proved they knew what they were doing.

Tears fell fluidly down his face and he finally choked out a sob as Craig thrust against him, friction dying down on his assaulter's end. Random hook ups had cared more about his comfort than Craig. Strangers he never spoke to again prepped him thoroughly, made him fucking coffee after the fact and gave him back rubs after sessions, asking time and again if he was all right. Craig, though. Craig didn't care. He just wanted to take what he wanted. He whined as the speed increased, trapped body sliding over the sheets. Lips pressed against his again, the redhead unable to find it within himself to strike back as hands cupped his face. Craig's breath was hot and heavy against him, his body a stifling blaze of unwanted covering over his exposed body. He could taste the remains of his cigarette on his tongue as it pressed into his mouth, strong menthol like Kenny's own. Kyle trembled, a reminder of Kenny the absolute last thing he wanted in this situation.

Thoughts of the blonde weren't making him stronger this time, they were destroying him. What would Kenny even think after this? He might never touch him again, might look at Kyle like a Ming vase, fingers twitching to stroke over his skin but keeping his distance to prevent him from shattering.

He cried into Craig's mouth at the notion, the sound of their skin smacking against one another's invading his ears. There was no love here. It was a need to claim; To own. It was nothing more than a spoiled child taking what he thought belonged to him. Kyle just happened to be the unfortunate 'asset', innocently unaware of the situation until it grabbed a hold of him in its clammy, strong grip.

Disassociation fled him as Craig began muttering against his agape, motionless lips. Curses and fingers gripping tighter along his face and neck took dominance over his perception, terrifying him into a deeper stillness. He squeaked as he felt Craig slamming into him brutally before a final plunge filled him with that almost unfamiliar sensation of hot slickness. He trembled, the result almost more violating than the action itself. Kenny rarely did that, not wanting to inconvenience Kyle with the awkward mess to clean from himself. He only did it when Kyle asked for it.

But it was clear enough, now more than ever: Kyle wasn't getting what he asked for anymore. He was getting whatever Craig wanted to give him.

He gasped in pain as Craig finally slid out of him with a groan, his ass burning, feeling Craig leaking out of him and down his propped back. His legs were on fire, his hands underneath of him numbed and stinging. The lips pressed against his own were acid, burning into him, marring his skin with an uncleanliness that he vaguely wondered if he'd ever be able to shed. "So good," Craig breathed, kissing and nipping his mouth lovingly, sweat against his brow pressing against him. "So, so good."

Kyle remained silent, letting the tears fall; Letting Craig continue to kiss and fondle him. Craig's afterglow calmness filled Kyle with an eerie clarity, his mind snapping back to its keen self for as long as Craig happily touched him and played with his hair like a lover would. The clouds clearing gave him no sun, however. Instead, Kyle found himself staring down an eclipse, a bare, thin ring of light just barely breeching the darkened concealment, just stalling time until the Earth could finally move once again.

A/N: Usually I focus on the physical aspect of this situation, but this time I wanted to hone in on the mental. Maybe you liked it, maybe you wanted more of just the physical violation, but, personally, I think that since Craig and Kyle's 'relationship' thus far has been purely physical aside from a few demeaning tasks, that this situation called for Kyle's mind not thinking for once of his out, but of his confinement. Idk, I just felt it was the most appropriate for this case. And I enjoyed going through it tbh. /shrug

Hopefully you did, too.

Thanks for R&Ring!