Greetings! Yes, your eyes are not tricking you - I have returned from my impromptu hiatus to bring you this monumental chapter on valentines day, quite fittingly.
I am incredibly sorry for the wait; I have been very unwell lately and life seems to have some kind of vendetta against me, but I'm sure you don't really want to hear any self-pity as such. However, I promise that I have NOT given up on NTL and I refuse to do so unless my body decides to go and die on me or something, so don't ever think I'm not going to finish this...
I can't wait to see how my wonderful readers like what I have planned...
-!-Super Cereal NSFW sexytimes warning-!-
Ten minutes. There's ten minutes until the auditions start, and a certain someone is nowhere to be seen.
I'd gone looking for him twenty minutes ago, eager to give him a little encouragement – at first I wasn't that alarmed that he had disappeared, but as time ticked onward my concern had grown and grown until I was acutely aware that something wasn't right. I'd asked around the common room to try and determine his whereabouts , and I'd learnt from Clyde (in exchange for a fiver, the sneaky bastard) that he'd left the dorms half an hour ago, seeming rather on edge as he'd jogged out in the direction of the old chapel. After checking once more by the drama studios to ensure he hadn't simply gone to prepare, I'd set out to try and hunt him down.
Lost, I feel like a noseblind bloodhound; futilely stumbling in search of an elusive bone. I figure my best chances are to head down to the chapel, even though I'm fully aware Eric would probably never be caught dead in such a building. I trample across the muddy pathways – courtesy of the generous British climate – walking further and further into the more obscure area of campus. I'm not too familiar with this area, yet I get a strong sense of déjà vu as I scan the thick forestry bordering the field, the wall of bark merely a cloudy recollection. I approach the old stone building, stained glass an almost eerie splash of colour against the dreary monochrome background of an English April morning. It seems so out of place, drawing attention to itself so much that if it wasn't for a fleeting movement seen in my peripherals I would have likely had no luck in my search at all.
I turn my gaze toward the motion, deflating immediately as I realize it had merely been a stray Tabby cat. Frustrated, I rub at my forehead with the heel of my palm as I continue to survey the surrounding woods. By luck or some divine favour, my eyes come to rest on a familiar sight - a weathered scarlet ribbon tied onto the trunk of a vast oak tree.
The unanticipated streak of colour had caught me off guard, but after a moment of confusion I had immediately recognized the fabric. I hadn't even thought to look here beforehand, but now I'm kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner! Faith in my search renewed, I jog toward the forest.
Faded from the daily onslaught of the islands temperamental weather, the ribbon had dulled in hue to a murky rusted shade. I run my hand along the fabric as I walk, a lifeline in the maze-like depths of this dense forest. Along the path, I notice some footprints indented into the mud, the familiar shape of Eric's boots filling me with a sense of achievement.
Bingo.
As I enter the clearing, I hear him before I see him. His words are hard to hear, but I can distinguish his affectionate tone a mile away, unsure who he was addressing. At first I'd assumed it was me considering his tone, yet I soon realized that this wasn't the case.
"Yeah, I missed you. I love you so much, did you miss me too?" He coos sweetly, causing bile to rise in my throat as my stomach lurches. "I bought you some presents and everything. I'd do anything to see you smile."
I should be the only one he talks to like that. I should be the only one. I hope for a moment that he's merely on the phone to a close relative, speaking merely with platonic warmth. Much to my dismay, the clear rustling of leaves is clearly heard in the clearing, no doubt some other person shifting the leaves below their feet. Who the fuck is…
"Clyde, come over here. Don't you want a cuddle?"
Clyde? But… he hates that douche. Why would he risk what we have…?
I'm not sure whether to throw up, punch him or both. What the fuck is wrong with him! He'd said he loved me – he made me fucking believe him! What kind of a two timing asshole would pull something like this? I even paid Clyde for him to lie right to my face, unknowing it would lead me here. Perhaps he'd even known it would… he'd wanted me to see this for whatever sadistic reason. Is this his way of staking a claim on Cartman? Is life just determined to screw me over again? I'm done with this shit. I'm so done… and he's going to know it.
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing!?" I snarl, charging from between the trees toward the direction of his voice. "Am I not enough-?"
His eyes dart up to meet mine, marred with confusion as he raises a quizzical eyebrow at my intrusion. On his lap, a young Black Bombay rears its head, disturbed by the interruption. Startled, it tries to rear itself upward in an attempt to defend itself, and noticing its change in demeanour Eric hums softly, hushing it like a child as he cradles it firmly in his arms.
"Good going Kyle," He deadpans, an unamused expression gracing his features. "You almost got my balls scratched off. Good going to you. Bravo. Forgive me for not applauding."
"But- I thought... I'm sorry, I just- God damn it." I groan, pinching my nose frustratedly. "I know I should have trusted you... where did you find him? I thought the feral cats hated people."
"They do." Eric replies solemnly, scratching absentmindedly behind the lanky cat's ears. "For most people the feeling is mutual. I guess I've always just fitted in better with them than I do with most humans, and they seem to be able to tell. They give me company and an outlet when things seem shitty, and I give them companionship, food and toys."
"That's surprisingly kind of you, Eric. It's sweet of you to look after them like that." I respond, voice sincere . I can sense he's not in the mood for a spar and I'm more than willing to do anything to help him feel more comfortable. I carefully perch down on the log beside him, taking my time as to not startle the feline. "So you've named them?"
"Yeah..." He confirms, cheeks darkening. "Their names sound stupid as fuck but you're going to have to just trust me that there's a reason for them. I didn't know any better back then - this little idiot here is Clyde Frog."
"He's so cute…" I smile warmly, trying not to intimidate the creature. "He doesn't look particularly frog like though, if you ask me."
"You figure?" He chuckles lightly, the light re-emerging in his eyes and causing me to feel so much more at ease. "Peter Panda looks a lot more Panda-esque; hopefully he will live up to your scrutiny. If we have any luck we can get Polly to come back too. She was very friendly until she became pregnant but she's much more skittish these days. I can't say for sure but based on their body language I think the litter is Clyde's, but I guess we need to wait and see once the kittens arrive." He looks into the fauna, the tone of his voice turning to a soothing chuckle. "Come on, girl. The Jew isn't all that bad…"
I hear a muffled mew in response, but there is nothing to be seen. Eric coos once more, making little clicking sounds with his tongue. As if summoned, a large Ragdoll emerges from beyond a nearby tree, its thick creamy coat ruffled and its paws marred with mud. Her icy blue eyes are sharp and clear as water, watching me warily from afar. I see Eric dig around in the pockets of his jacket, producing some ham and offering it to me. I grimace at the slice of pork, hesitantly taking the strange smelling meat.
"Oh don't look like that." He quips, rolling his eyes theatrically at my obvious reluctance. "It's not going to sink through your skin into your bloodstream and make you un-kosher. She has a weakness for food – you'll see. Just offer her some."
Unsure of myself, I extend my hand towards her. I see Clyde's nose twitch at the scent, and Eric – being the pushover he is – procures another generous helping for him.
She merely watches me at first, trying to determine whether I should be considered a threat. Eric calls her again, and once she notices that he seems at ease in my presence she seems to deem me worthy, trotting forward. She sniffs the ham before eating it, eagerly ravishing the meat before lapping at the tips of my fingers, tongue rough as sandpaper.
"See, she likes you too already." He reassures me, pleased that his feline accomplices seemed welcoming of his boyfriend. "I guess that means you're a keeper."
"Like you couldn't tell already. I'm sticking around whether you like it or not." I grin, kicking his legs teasingly. "But openness comes as part of that package, so I'm afraid you're going to need to talk before I have to resort to drastic measures. You seemed so dead set on getting the part; I don't understand why you're not up there right this minute giving them hell. Come on, spill."
"It's complicated" He sighs, averting his eyes from my questioning stare – it's a stupid evasive tactic and he knows it. "There's not even anything worth worrying yourself over."
"The fact you're sat here tells me otherwise. Just humor me, okay? I hate seeing you upset."
"Fine, just don't make a big deal about it, yeah? Look, I wanted to impress everyone and I know the music well enough… this is the second year in a row I was pushing for this musical. I know I should at least try and go but all week I haven't allowed myself to think much about it outside of practising, it all just feels like some stupid dream I had. You know when you build something up in your head and you allow yourself to be excited about it, even though you really know deep down that you'll never meet those expectations? I've just reached this point where I can't help but open my eyes to the fact that it's not going to work out. Sure in theory it seemed wonderful, but realistically they could do better than me. The real reason Mr. Garrison bowed to my will and chose this script is I caught him using faculty computers to watch some weird German fetish porn. I'm not exactly guaranteed a decent role, and even though it's likely I'll do as well as I wanted I'm reluctant to put myself out there like that. There's this nagging little part of me in the back of my brain that can't let me stop imagining all the ways it could go wrong… I just can't stand the idea of people thinking less of me for this whole thing. For so long, my reputation was the only thing I had. I was the crazy kid – the psycho that would destroy anyone that got in his way yet still manages to charm everyone with a sweet smile. Sure, I have the charisma and a knack for getting myself out of awkward situations but you can't worm your way out of this kind of failure. Sure they all see me as the class fag, but this kind of activity will only make me seem more of a stereotype in their eyes."
"But you were looking forward to this! Don't give me any of that bullshit, that role is as good as yours and we both know it. We're together now, right? Surely you should let me help with fixing whatever is troubling you. It runs deeper than that… you wouldn't be sat out here looking all on edge over some stupid audition."
"I should have known you'd be right about everything again." He chuckles uneasily, the curving of his lips weak and timid as he wallows in his thoughts. "I guess being such a Jew your nose is so huge you can't avoid sticking it into people's business, so I can't really hold it against you. I really meant it when I said I was weary of screwing up, but not just in terms of the stupid play. Things seem to be going okay for once – largely thanks to you – I just can't escape the feeling that any minute it will all come crashing around me. You're decent… You're hot as fuck, funny, compassionate and feisty. You have bite, and this eloquence to you that I never would have expected to see in a Jew. People like you don't like people like me. Any minute now I'll slip up or go too far and you'll regret ever meeting me."
"You're bloody stupid, you know that?" I question, wrapping my arms around him as I embrace him tightly, causing the black cat to reluctantly defect from Eric's lap. "I honestly wouldn't be here if you weren't worth every minute. I love you, you fuckwit - don't you get that? I love that stupid smug grin of yours you do after you beat me at something, I love the way your eyebrows furrow when you're thinking deeply. I love those sweet little shudders that fill your body before you come, the way your eyes light up once you feel proud of yourself. I love the full package – the good and the bad. I would never want you any other way. That flimsy tough boy persona won't work on me, Eric – I don't care that you have your doubts that you struggle with your confidence every now and then. It doesn't make you weak… it makes you human. If anything, it only makes me love you more."
He sighs gladly as he buries his head into my shoulder, ghosting kisses along my clavicle through the fabric of my shirt. Pleased he seemed a little more receptive, I run one hand through his hair, loving the silky feel of those gorgeous chestnut locks.
"Thank you." He whispers, pulling back to look me in the eyes. "I'm really not good at all of this emotion shit."
He looks slightly shaken by all of the honesty but thankful for my reassurance, and he plants a chase kiss to my forehead before standing up, offering his hand to assist me in doing the same.
"You know, we still have time to get to the auditions. Once they hear me sing I doubt they'll be angry at us for being late."
The haunting lullaby fills the room, the trill of the piano reverberating throughout the grand chamber. The high ceilings are painted with affluent cherub caricatures - nude children adorned with wings, honey coloured curls and milk pale skin that watch from above. Outside of the mural, there is not much in the way of an audience. I sit on a stool in the corner of the room, painted black and covered in scraps of worn silver duct tape. A man I vaguely recognise sits at the piano, swaying slightly to the tune he produces – unnoticed by the small group of music and drama teachers that sit before the makeshift stage. The congregation watch eagerly - naturally spearheaded by Mr. Garrison – as Eric approaches the spotlight, standing below the seemingly celestial beam and stirring the dancing dust motes that glimmer in the light from above.
He swallows thickly, Adams apple bobbing prominently in his throat before he clears the saliva with a weak cough. I smile reassuringly at him, and he nods in response.
He takes another deep breath, closing his eyes as he begins to sing the melody.
"These are my friends, See how they glisten." He starts, voice rich and operatic yet almost timid, restrained. The tune is low and sinister. From a small box, he procures a fake razor – a temporary prop hastily thrown together from scraps of wood.
"See this one shine… How he smiles in the light. My friend, my faithful friend..." His vocals lift along with the tune, the passion growing within his voice more than enough to outshine the meagre notes of the piano.
"Speak to me friend; Whisper… I'll listen." His voice dips downward once more, and he loses himself in the music as he brandishes the imitation blade. Despite its obvious composition there is something about the way he holds himself, the way he cradles it to his ear as if to hear it's cries of bloodlust – something that is entirely captivating, and all of a sudden the weapon is very real in his hand. "I know, I know you've been locked out of sight all these years, like me my friend. Well I've come home to find you waiting... home, and we're together! And we'll do wonders. Won't we?"
His voice gains momentum, reaching greater heights as he revels in the joy of the freedom, of the opportunity. His words almost become a whisper as he asks the question, eyes locking with mine and obliterating everything other than us. All of a sudden, all that exists within this reality is me and Eric, nothing but his voice to carry me through. I was so absorbed in those glimmering eyes, that eerie tune, that I barely even noticed the busty female beside him – curled hair in a messy updo and her dress revealing far too much cleavage to be deemed classy as she grasps on to his arm, swooning as she presses her ample bust against him.
"I'm your friend too, Mr. Todd, If you only knew, Mr. Todd, ooh Mr. Todd..." The blond croons with an uneasy sweetness, picking up the second half of the duet as her voice interweaves with Eric's – eerily complimenting.
"You there my friend - Come let me hold you. Now, with a sigh..."
"You grow warm, in my hand. My friend!" They both sing, finding a beautiful harmony in the union of their voices.
"You've come home! Always had a fondness for you, I did." She sings, causing a pang of unreasonable jealousy to swirl in my gut regardless of the knowledge that this is merely for the purpose of theatrical impact. "Never you fear, Mr. Todd, You can move in here, Mr. Todd."
"My clever friend… Rest now, my friends. Soon, I'll unfold you." contrasts the brunettes tone, combating her raising tone with a dip to a rich, low bass.
"...Soon you'll know splendours you never have dreamed all you days..." They both harmonize one more, gaining momentum as they near a crescendo. She pulls herself in closer to his body, clinging to his bicep as she watches the implement in his hands with wonder, as if he'd breathed life into the object through his performance. I recognise the look in his eyes, that dark and wistless air that signifies he had fully lost himself to the moment.
"I'm your friend and you're mine! Don't they shine beautiful?" cries out the female, "Silver's good enough for me, Mr. T."
"My lucky friends; 'Til now your shine was merely silver…. Friends, you shall drip rubies, you'll soon drip precious...rubies..."
The pianos melody builds, tension coiling tightly as it reaches an unsettling crescendo. Stood boldly, all focus in the room is drawn to Eric like a moth to a flame, and captivated so much so that even the painted figures upon the ceiling couldn't tear their eyes away from his form. His presence is commanding, and once he bellows out his final line as his arm flies upward in a salute - pointing the blade to the heavens – the occupants of the room feel a collective shiver, one most likely experienced also by the Gods themselves.
"At last, my right arm is complete again!"
"You don't think they'd already found someone else, do you?" Eric asks, pulling a mint from his pocket and twisting it open, fiddling with the wrapper as he pops it into his mouth. "I mean, I was definitely the last person to show up."
"Yeah, but I really wouldn't worry about it considering the fact they'd clapped as enthusiastically as they did. You even outdid my expectations, so you know you did something right. Stop stressing about it."
"I'm not." He insists, voice muffled by the sweet in his mouth.
"Oh really?" I question knowingly, grasping onto my shoulder as I pull myself closer. "That is the fifth mint in seven minutes – you always stuff the hole in your face when you feel on edge. Just don't dwell on it too much; they'll be out any minute now."
He nods in silent agreement, reluctant to acknowledge I was right. Despite all of the other candidates filling the waiting room he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into a passionate kiss. He seems eager for distraction and I'm more than willing to oblige, losing myself in the blissful feel of it all and the strong taste of artificial mint. So absorbed in each other, we only realize that someone had entered once the other candidates had crossed the room, keen to see the casting.
Pulling myself from Eric's arms, we head toward the corkboard in the corridor, surrounded by a cluster of exited students. Pushing forward, we eventually get close enough to see the cause of the excitement – a sheet of paper. More precisely, the casting for the main roles.
Reading from the bottom upward, I can't help but feel proud once I notice that Tweek had been selected to play Tobias. I reach back to retrieve my phone to text Craig the good news, but my hand stills once Eric grasps my bicep tightly, practically buzzing with palpable anticipation. I look over to him, and once I meet the shine in those ecstatic eyes I have a good idea as to why. I turn back to the sheet, and sure enough at the top of the page there is cause for celebration.
Sweeney Todd - Eric T. Cartman
"You did it!" I cry out, throwing my arms around his neck as he holds me close, laughing in joy. "I told you you could!"
A few of the rejected candidates send unamused glares in our direction, but I honestly care less. I'm so pleased for him, and I can tell he's proud of himself too. I feel my heart swell in pride, extremely stoked that he's excited for something so constructive that isn't in any way illegal or dangerous.
"Congratulations." Drawls a familiar voice, a smirk on the man's face as he approaches. "I take it you'll behave yourself?"
"Of course, Mr. Garrison." Eric promises, shaking his outstretched hand. "Thank you for choosing me."
"I've taught you for a long time, Eric Cartman – make no mistake, this is a serious commitment and it requires everyone involved to take it seriously. This production will go on with or without you, understood?"
"Crystal clear." He retorts, looking the older man dead in the eyes. "I'll do my best."
"Good." He nods. "Very well then. Now we have reached a mutual understanding I'll leave you to your friend here. I'll be seeing you in my office at five tomorrow sharp for an initial briefing."
He takes his leave, and I'm rather annoyed at him… surely he didn't need to be such a dick. Eric has his problems and all but it's obvious that he really wants this. Unfazed, he turns to me once more as he draws me close, eyeing my parted lips.
"So you will keep your end of the bargain, then?" He grins, squeezing at my hips playfully.
"Of course, what do you take me for?" I reply coyly, tugging at the hem of his scruffy dress shirt. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for that… but I do propose that we have a little celebration of our own right now."
"Right now? What, do you want me to drop to my knees right here?" He teases, grasping my wrist as he pulls me out of the crowd. "I'm afraid you'll need to wait a minute or two… unless you really can't wait and you need me to ravish you as soon as possible, in which case there are always toilets or cleaning cupboards."
"No, I'm fine to go back to the dorms…" I respond, feeling my cheeks heat up. I feel like a virgin all over again, and I can tell by his actions he hasn't quite caught on to exactly what I want yet.
We weave through the corridors, sprinting through the rain to reach the dorms as dry as possible. Once we reach our room he's all over me – slamming me into the door as his tongue assaults my mouth hungrily. I gladly take him in, reciprocating with the same passion and then some. I let out a needy whine into his mouth as I feel his hands trail down my body, hands grasping firmly at the flesh of my ass. The action reminds me of my intentions, and before Eric gets too absorbed I push him back. Confused, he looks back to me with a quizzical gaze that has anxiety and anticipation swirling in my gut in equal proportions.
"I don't want…" I start, grimacing at how stupid I'd made myself sound. "I-I mean… I don't want to hold back anymore."
"Hold back?" He asks, and I nod in affirmation. "How so?"
"I want you to fuck me." I state honestly, resting my palms on his chest. I feel his frantic pulse accelerate below my fingers, reassuring me that I wasn't the only one filled with anticipation. "I'm ready, and I want you… "
He watches me wearily for a minute, trying to determine how sincere I am. Failing to see anything but lust and honesty he obliges, pressing closer to me again. He kisses me once more – this time more gentle and heartfelt – melting me in his heat and filling me with so much affection I fear I'll burst.
"Hell yeah..." he murmurs, voice husky and practically dripping with sex appeal against my cheek. "I need you too, more than anything."
"It's been a while." I admit, cheeks blazing at my admission. "We should take it slow."
"You haven't even fingered yourself?" he asks, dipping his head down to nip at my neck.
"...Not for a few months or so."
He growls in the back of his throat, eyes dark and hungry as they work down my body – lingering at the rapidly growing bulge of my stiffening cock.
"I guess that's something for a rainy day… fuck, I want to see you finger that sweet ass. Now though, I can't wait that long; want to have you moaning my name."
"Jesus Eric…" I gasp, voice shaky from the wave of unrelenting arousal at his words. "Yeah."
He presses another tender kiss before he grows more desperate, nibbling at my lip before pulling away.
"Bed." He demands, and I'm more than pleased to oblige; his authoritarian voice a sensual delicacy to the ears.
I send him a teasing smirk, raising my eyebrow in an attempt at seduction. I back up until the backs of my knees hit the bed before falling onto the mattress, pulling him down with me. He's been on top of me many times before, but it has never felt so raw – so intimate. I flush deeply as his fingers find the buttons of my shirt, thumbing them undone to expose the pale expanse of my rapidly rising and falling chest. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pull him closer instinctively as he trails several wet kisses along my jawline, graduating onto my neck. He follows the path of my jugular before suckling at my collarbone, leaving glistening skin and hickeys in his wake.
I let out a shallow moan as his lips clasp firmly onto my hardened nipple, creating a wonderful suction on the sensitive skin as he pops open the button of my trousers. Despite my enjoyment of the situation, I have to admit things were seeming rather unbalanced.
"Wait, slow down a second." I hum, pushing him back up onto his knees. Elevating myself, my hand steadies itself on his meaty hips as the other tugs at the collar of his blazer, removing it in one swift movement. I reach for the buttons on his dress shirt but he grimaces one I come into contact with the material, instinctively leaning back to evade my hand. I watch him quizzically, trying to understand what had triggered the sudden shift in attitude.
"It's cold." He murmurs, gripping my hand in his own as he brings the appendage to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on my knuckles. If I was uncertain before as to whether he was okay, I certainly know now.
"But I don't have my shirt on anyway, and without your extra padding I'm way colder right now than you would be. Why does it even matter? You'll be hot and bothered after all."
"I'm just…. temperature sensitive. I can't be bothered to have to get dressed once we're done anyway." He replies dismissively, leaning back in to recapture my lips. Sensing his unease, I refuse to allow him entry - causing a disgruntled expression to corrupt his features.
"Kyle-"
"No." I bluntly insist, quietening him as I press a finger to his slightly kiss-swollen lips. "It's coming off and that's final."
I reach forward to loosen his collar, but the unmistakable flash of anxiety in those wide eyes freezes me on the spot. I can't dismiss my worry then, concerned that something had happened to change his mind.
"...Eric, you know you can talk to me, right? It's okay if you don't want to do this yet. We can always just-"
"That's not it." He insists, unable to meet my eyes with his own. He seems almost… ashamed. Something I'd never expected to see from him. His brow furrows contemplatively before he sighs in defeat, running his fingers through his messy russet locks to compose himself.
"I'm not like you, Kyle. I'm not."
"Of course you aren't." I reply, confused by the meaning of his words yet feeling obligated to try to comfort him. "We wouldn't be in this situation in the first place if you weren't you."
"That's not it though! I don't look like you, okay?" He grimaces, eyes not quite meeting my gaze. "I don't have a flat stomach or perfect hips, or even a decent figure. I'm sorry, but I'm no fucking Calvin Klein model."
I pause for a minute, partially out of uncertainty how to respond and partially due to my bewilderment that he honestly finds issue with this.
"You… I know you're not. I won't lie and say you're exactly the thinnest person ever because that wont help anything. What have I ever done to give you an impression that that was what I wanted? I love you asshole, and that means I love everything about you – even the bits that are a little rough round the edges. To be honest, I think you're perfect, okay? You're strong, stocky with this sense of raw power I can't help but find intoxicating. Just the right amount of padding that you're far from frail, and you feel just right in my arms. I'm glad you don't look like them, because that wouldn't be you. It's you I want, Eric. Just you."
He looks as if he's about to refute my words, so I cut them short in the back of his throat as I press my lips against his, filling the action with as much affection and passion as I can to weaken his resolve as I roll him over onto his back, taking control.
Once he seems placated, my hands find his buttons again as I keep my eyes locked on his, making sure he's okay with everything. I slide the fabric aside once they are all unfastened, revealing creamy skin and a light dusting of brunette hairs. I dip my head to his clavicle, pressing my lips to the heated flesh as I kiss my way along his body.
"I love your wide shoulders. So manly that they always drive me wild, so wonderful to dig my fingers into as you make me feel incredible with the slightest touch..." I sigh against him, caressing them with my hand before trailing my way down to his chest, holding it over his heart as I feel his rapid pulse through flesh and bone.
"I love your chest. I can feel toned muscle underneath, a hint at your true strength that always manages to get me going. No matter how much you might hate it, I love your belly. I love the thickness of your hips, the size of your body as I wrap my arms around you, drifting off to sleep against soft flesh..."
I press more chaste kisses along his stomach as I pull down his trousers, over his hips, to the tops of his thighs. I can feel him tense as I progress lower and lower, breath hitching as I teasingly slide my tongue along the insides of his thighs, nearing his straining erection. Defences broken down completely, he bucks his hips impatiently in search of some form of stimulation. I briefly consider holding back, but I can't resist the overwhelming urge to just give in and provide him with the pleasure he seeks. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, and I feel his hardness twitch in my hand as I press my tongue to the tip.
He groans in rapture as the wet muscle begins to work at the organ, lips enveloping him completely as I take him into my mouth. I alternate between sucking at the flesh and bobbing my head, captivated by the small sighs of pleasure that leave his parted lips. His hands find my hair as I pick up my pace, entangling his fingers in my vibrant curls.
"Fuck." He moans, reluctantly tugging at my locks as he pulls my head up. I look up at him in confusion, but I can't withhold the bush that stains my cheeks as I take in the dark lust in his eyes, the pure look of want that smoulders my skin.
Beautiful.
"If you keep that up god knows I couldn't bear to stop you." He admits, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face as he smiles affectionately. It's always odd when he looks at me like that – as if he was looking upon something awe inspiring, eyes dancing with almost evangelical reverence. I'm just me, but in his hands I become something perfect, someone complete.
"Why, you had other plans?" I ask jokingly, just to see the adorable smirk on his lips. The plan succeeds, and he can't resist rolling his eyes as he grabs my hips, shifting me above his own. I press back instinctually, a shudder running up my spine as I feel his hardness against my ass. I lean in to reconnect our mouths, and he murmurs between heated kisses, fingers fiddling with the button of my trousers. "Lube. Condom. Drawer. Now."
Obediently, I reach blindly behind us to feel for the bedside drawers, grasping onto the handle and opening the top one. With a sense of accomplishment my fingers wrap around the cool tube, retrieving it with a grin.
"Very nice." He compliments, taking it from me. I hand him a foil packet too as per his request, and he discards them beside us on the bed as both hands dart to my fly, tugging at the insolent zipper in an effort to free my own hardness. Cooperative, I raise my hips a little so he can tug them down, not even hesitating to pull my boxers with them. I shift back, leaning on his thighs as I remove them completely before throwing them to the floor without a second thought. As I move back onto my knees as we resume the frantic tasting of one another - mouths sloppy as the kiss grows even more lewd and heated – he kicks off his own trousers so that once I pull myself further into him it is uninterrupted skin against skin. I feel my flesh rise in goosebumps, loving every second of the sweet contact.
After a good while his hands travel downward, from the subtle curve of my waist to the roundness of my ass. He grasps the globes firmly in his palms, kneading the flesh generously before his hand finds it's way between my cheeks, finger teasingly brushing against my entrance. The sensation of him nearing my most intimate of areas has me shuddering, the involuntary motion pleasing him greatly as I see his eyes darken with hunger.
"Gonna let me prep you, huh?" He hums seductively, leaning up to nip at my earlobe. "I can't exactly reach properly like this."
"I'm sure we can find a way to rectify the situation." I reply, rolling onto my back as he follows suit, finding himself between my legs. I draw them closer to my chest to allow him better access as our lips collide again, one of his hands on my knee as the other fiddles with the blanket as he searches for the condom. He retrieves the packet eventually, eyes never leaving mine as he tears the foil with his teeth. Already incredibly hard, he rolls the plastic sheath over his cock with one hand as he retrieves the tube of lubricant with the other. Popping the cap, he lathers up his erection and fingers generously, aware that after my period of temporary abstinence I could gladly do with the extra help.
I don't even register that I'd tensed up until I feel a probing finger against the constricted muscle, the cold fluid only worsening the situation.
"Relax." He instructs, and despite the temptation to bite back with a scathing response I channel my effort into breathing deeply, soothing my nerves. It's hardly a case of not being turned on enough – I can't even remember the last time I'd been so aroused – but after so long, being with him like this has all of my nerves raw and hypersensitive. I want him so bad it terrifies me, the intensity of the craving throwing me for a loop. I want his skin, his sweat, him buried deep within me in more ways than one.
His everything.
I let out a whimper as I feel the thick digit enter me, gentle at first as he tests the waters, before withdrawing and entering again at an increased pace, deeper this time. After a few cautious thrusts, another finger presses in alongside the first. The feeling of the stretch causes me to gasp initially, quickly going from uncomfortable to pleasurable as he resumes the pumping motion. He scissors his fingers to better stretch me before pressing in deeper, curling his fingers to brush against a bundle of nerves that has my toes curling, breath coming in short pants.
"You good?" He murmurs, and I nod my response, not quite trusting my voice. He removes the fingers, leaving me feeling strangely empty. The sensation is soon overridden however as I feel the wet head of his cock against me, the feeling more than enough to evoke a pleasured sigh.
Pacing himself, I hear the breath catch in Eric's throat as he enters, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations. A pained grimace has him reaching a sudden stop once halfway inside, afraid to push me too far too quickly.
"Holy shit…" I gasp breathlessly, needing a moment to adjust to the sensation of being stretched so thoroughly. "You're so thick, I've never had anything your size-"
"It's okay Kyle." He reassures me, kissing my forehead affectionately as his right hand entwines with my own on the mattress. "Just breathe slowly, you can stop me if it gets too much."
Resuming the motion, he presses forward until I feel his hips flush against my body – buried to the hilt in the tight heat. He hisses a few curses under his breath as he feels my muscles contract around him, adjusting to the penetration. After I feel prepared enough I wrap my legs around his waist encouragingly, feet pressing into the small of his back to encourage him to initiate the motion I can't help but crave. Catching on, he begins to rock his hips at a slowed pace; not entirely fucking yet far from still.
A conflicted moan escapes my lips as I revel in the pain-pleasure, sore in the most delicious of ways. Spurred on by the vocalization he quickens the motions, drawing back further before driving in deeper, grinding his hips into mine. I'm unable to contain a pleasured yelp as he brushes against my prostate, one hand flying to my lips in an attempt to muffle the lewd gasps that insist on slipping from between them as the other rakes down the meat of his shoulders. I swear my impassioned clawing broke his skin, and he hisses under his breath at the conflicting sensations – the animalistic drag of my nails spurring him to rut into me a little harder.
"Shit…" I moan, almost chocking on the sound in my surprise as he thrusts hard enough to send the headboard bashing against the wall. Beyond caring about anything else, I can't help but cling onto his sweat-slicked skin as he drives into me once more, growling filth into my ear as I cry out in pleasure.
"You like that, huh Jew?" He purrs, hand leaving mine to grasp at my ass, lifting my hips to allow him to thrust deeper inside. "Like me fucking you?"
"God yes! Faster." I pant into the skin off his neck, feeling my legs shudder from the force. He obliges, and I swear I see stars dancing across my vision as he fills me up so good and deep, wrecking me completely with each skilful hit to the bundle of nerves that has me arching up from the bed until I fear I'll squirm off of the single mattress completely.
I feel the tension build within the pit of my stomach, wound up beyond belief as I feel the threat of an earth-shattering orgasm on the horizon. Very much in sync, I feel Eric's rhythm falter as he comes closer and closer to his release – the very knowledge that I am the reason his brow creases so deliciously as he tries to contain himself, arm on the verge of giving way as he is filled with pleasure so intense he struggles to support his weight, is so insanely hot. The thought of his arousal in turn feeds my own, and before I know it I'm crying out until my throat is hoarse, cock leaking with precum as he fucks me relentlessly.
I feel it through my whole body – originating from my hips and radiating to the tips of my toes, the skin of my scalp. I moan out his name as I hit a blinding climax, and the blissful contractions of my muscles send him into his own. He curses profusely, so far gone to his rapture that the filth is barely coherent. He rides out the orgasm, grinding into me until he doesn't have another drop left to spill.
I feel him give way in his fatigue, collapsing onto my chest as his lips gravitate toward my neck; new kisses and nibbles tracing a path over older hickeys. Whilst I'd love to stay here forever, it's not exactly the most relaxing position. I can't help but chuckle at the adorable, contended look on his face as I shake him gently, rousing him from his reveries.
"I think I'll just stay here a little..." He hums contentedly, planting feathery kisses along the line of my jaw. I feel a little guilty, but realistically I'm not too sure I can exactly get to sleep drenched in sweat and come, with him still nestled half-mast inside me. I may be a heavy sleeper, but I don't work miracles.
"C'mon." I groan, tugging at his shoulder. "We can cuddle later, but I need a shower... We need a shower. Get up."
"Make me." He childishly remarks, rolling over so he's squished up against me on the narrow bed. Admittedly, whilst I enjoy the inevitable closeness and warmth this isn't exactly a practical sleeping arrangement – perhaps I should try to get Kenny to smuggle us in a king size set up. I'm sure the tenacious boy would find a way, even if it was merely for the sole purpose of sticking it to authority.
"Fine, lie here and smell. I'm going to shower. Should I even bother getting you your boxers or something? Eric?"
I poke him, already realizing that my words had fallen on deaf ears. He's fast asleep, a smug yet loveable Cheshire grin tugging at his lips even in his sleep. Unable to resist, I plant a gentle kiss to his forehead before I leave for the bathroom, pulling up the duvet to encapsulate his sleeping form.
Wow. I'm so glad it's done, but it was so difficult to write. I hope I did it justice! It is insanely long, but I thought you'd all prefer this as one chapter.
I could really do with a nice dose of positivity, and I owe the fandom a huge thanks as it seems to be my main source at the moment. I love you all so much, and it's crazy how many people have read my fics and supported my writing. It would mean the world if you left a quick review to tell me what you think (even if it's just to kick my ass for taking forever!), feedback is to writers what water is to fish, and my inspiration wells have evidently been running pretty low.
Lots of love and Kyman,
NocturnalLament
