Warning: some very dubious consent in the first section with Pip and Damien. Skip over if it makes you uncomfortable.

"Things are picking up in the world of the living…"

Pip looked back over his shoulder as Damien sauntered into the bedroom eyeing the shy fumbling in the portal on the wall with interest. "Yes, it's ever so sweet," he sighed. He lifted his hand and with a snap of his fingers the portal closed.

"What are you doing? They're finally doing something entertaining and you switch it off?"

"I'm giving them some privacy."

Damien cackled incredulously. "You didn't care before. Spying on them every minute of the day."

"This is different. It's… well it's intimate."

"Don't give me that. It's no different from personal conversations. Anyway, I don't care. I want to watch." He pressed his hand to the wall to conjure up a new portal.

"Damien, don't!" Pip cried out, pulling his hand away from the wall. "It's not right."

"Don't point your moral compass at me," he snarled. "Not when you could be pointing something else." He felt Pip shiver against him as the wet flesh of his tongue met his earlobe. "Bed, Pip."

"Damien I don't want…" But it was never about what he wanted. Damien was already waiting for him at the head of the bed, patting the mattress almost seductively as if Pip had the luxury of choice. He slowly made his way over and settled on the bed, awaiting the next command.

He shoved Pip forward onto his elbows and knees, lifting his head by his hair. "You're not watching," Damien reprimanded him. "How unfair; you're the one that got me into this show in the first place." Pip's pale eyes obediently swivelled up and gazed at the oblivious couple falling back onto their bed with tender nibbles, acidic envy rising up in his throat. Damien gripped his cock. "Take your eyes off that portal and you'll regret it, my darling."

Then he felt it and his face froze in a portmanteau of agonised pleasure. He never could keep up his façade of reluctance. He keened back and let Damien's hands work their horrible magic.

Kyle stifled a giggle even though he was almost as frustrated as Cartman. They had stumbled upon a snag, literally, in that Cartman's wings were in the way of his tracksuit top and t-shirt. "We could cut them off maybe?"

"The clothes or the wings?" he growled and his wings flexed resentfully. They hadn't done anything wrong for once. "I don't know if the clothes can be cut. They're not real. Well, real as in like…"

"Corporeal."

"Yeah that." Cartman thought for a moment and then pulled his beanie off. It shimmered and changed back from red and black to yellow and blue. "Kewl!"

"I suppose that's because it was already of this world," said Kyle, taking it from him and looking at it fondly. "Shit I don't think I put this down for like five weeks straight."

Cartman resisted the urge to correct it to 'five weeks gay' and chose instead to knock it out of his hands. They could be doing far better things with their time than feeling up a mouldy old hat. Kyle's hands seemed to take the hint as they made their way back up his thighs, excruciatingly stopping just before his groin. Kyle shifted closer to nuzzle into his neck and when his hand at fucking last slipped inside his sweatpants Cartman's head fell back with an embarrassing moan. "Seems to work so far," Kyle mumbled a kiss into his clavicle changing his wrist's tempo. "Might need to run a few more tests."

"You know me…" Cartman thrust up into his hand with a deep grunt, "…always been a fan of practical science."

"Really?" he drew back with an amused murmur. "Then let's test a theory of mine." As Kyle's fingers combed through his hair and tugged him down on top of him, their lips met softly and Cartman noted it was only their second kiss. That wasn't nearly enough of them. He made it count, almost inhaling Kyle's breath as his own, eliciting short sweet quivers from him until he earnestly slapped at his chest trying to remind him that one of them still needed oxygen. With a grumble Cartman eased off but his annoyance was short-lived when Kyle bent down to rummage around in his bedside drawers, robe hitched up to reveal a neatly trimmed asshole. What little restraint Cartman had shattered in an instant and Kyle's hand shot out to save him from hitting the floor when he felt his cheeks being mauled and sucked with fervour. "Car-cartman wa-AY-T!" he cried as the mouth moved inwards.

"Fuck that," he said and licked at the puckered skin. "Fuck you…"

"I'm not, hn… not saying no…" Kyle panted, his own restraint waning. "But haaaa-we need-!" Frustratingly Cartman decided to listen to him and his body felt objectionably cold when he left him. He shakily lifted himself back up onto the bed and flopped back onto his pillows flushed and wanting and unaware that all that his robe now covered was his arms. Cartman drank it all in thirstily and then raised an eyebrow at the small bottle he was holding to his chest. Kyle flushed redder but made no attempt to hide it or redress himself. "This is uh… for…"

Cartman nodded. "That'd probably be helpful."

"It's one of the best brands for… that."

"You don't say."

"Got it cheaper online."

"Doesn't surprise me, Jew."

They looked at each other for a while before bursting into laughter. "Why're we having a conversation about fucking lube?" Cartman sighed.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, this is just so weird. I mean, it's you." He bit his lip at the way Cartman shifted back slightly. "Sorry I didn't mean it like that. I meant it's you and me."

"I get it." They weren't so much Romeo and Juliet as Mercutio and Tybalt. "Took me by surprise I can tell you."

Kyle laughed, his hand butterfly gentle against Cartman's chin. His eyes darkened into limpid pools. "I thought I'd never get this opportunity," he whispered.

So let's take it, was never uttered by either; felt instead by the brush of skin where he lifted Cartman's shirt as far as it could go when he descended on him again and his dick rubbed between their stomachs. Thumbs hooked into Cartman's pants and he was quickly exposed to the cool air slowly heating through breath and friction. With a suspiciously expert flick of his hand Kyle opened the bottle and poured a generous stream of liquid over their cocks. Cartman wondered idly if it would stain his Hell clothes. You've got Kyle Broflovski naked and wriggling beneath you and all you can think about is laundry, what the fuck, dude?

He pushed his dick down under Kyle's balls slathering the lube in between his ass. Kyle slapped the mattress restlessly. "Fuck me already."

"Would it count as a good deed?" he purred jokingly.

"Yes," Kyle barked back. "Because if you don't I'll find some way to kill you all over again and I don't want to go to jail for murder."

"Anything for you, Kahl," said Cartman feeling a little disconcerted that he meant it. He spread Kyle's legs wider and higher checking out the dick that (rather annoyingly) Kyle hadn't been exaggerating. He went to pour more lube on his fingers but Kyle stopped him. "Don't I need-?"

Kyle's other hand went to his cock gently pulling him closer and Cartman saw no good reason not to obey, lining up with his hole and pushing slowly inside.

Stars might have been born and died, civilisations probably rose and fell, Garrison possibly changed gender again in the time it seemed to take Cartman to bury himself fully and Kyle ended up twisting his hips down for the final inch from impatience. Cartman huffed out a few curses. "You trying to get goddamn piles? Slow down."

Kyle deliberately clenched and Cartman whined ecstatically. "You forgot my experiment, Fatass, which was a complete success by the way."

"What… experiment?" Cartman panted, his short-term memories falling away from his brain like slush from the hot and the tight and the Kyle of it all.

"You can't hurt me, remember? I wanted to see how far that extended. And I was right. You don't have to be so cautious." He smiled coyly. "You were so cute though."

Cartman automatically sulked at the backhanded compliment. "I'm trying to be considerate and all you can think about is being right. You're so fucking stubborn."

"So teach me a lesson." It was Kyle's turn to be smug.

Kyle touching him, Kyle underneath him, Kyle around him; Cartman wasn't going to last long enough for a decent lecture. He pulled out, the head of his dick catching on the rim in a way that made Kyle exclaim loudly. In one long stroke he was back in and he leant over devouring Kyle's moan before it could escape. His long limbs hooked around Cartman and he rode into every thrust, the freedom of no pain and all pleasure making him reckless and in a way it was a shame that there would be no handprint bruises, no lovebites, to show the world that he had been claimed. He quite liked having his hair pulled, too.

Just as Cartman worried that fatigue would win out against arousal he heard Kyle puff, "Break me," in his ear and that was it for him, finished, game over, man. His back arched and Kyle almost scalped him at the shockwave that flooded through them, his come painting his stomach and face. Cartman collapsed on his side, his wing escaping being squashed just in time.

"The fuck was that?" Kyle swallowed at the damp air.

"Sex with a ghost, I guess." Cartman stared at him with a confused frown until they turned to hold onto each other, suddenly dissolving into elated kisses and embarrassed laughter.

Stan kneaded sleepily at his eyes and tried to focus on the figure hunched over his computer in his favourite shirt and boxers. "Wendy? I put those out for the morning." He yawned. "Now I have to find new clothes."

"But I look so much cuter than you in these."

Stan couldn't argue with that. He yanked on his briefs from earlier and sat beside her. "What're you doing?"

"Just uploading those pictures from earlier. I'm not going to post them. I think Kenny's right, it's a little tasteless." Stan nodded, resting his chin on her shoulder watching the little arrow flick around the screen. "Do you think I should get a pixie cut?" he felt rather than heard her mumble.

"Huh?"

"My hair. Cut it short."

"But I like it long. Um, I mean as a woman you get to decide to do whatever you want when it comes to your own body."

"Stan, not everything I ask is a feminist inquisition. I just think short hair might be better. I never realised how much mine got in the way of my pictures."

"Really?"

"Sure, look." She motioned the cursor over one of the photographs from their small gathering. A long golden streak hovered near Kyle. Stan played with his bottom lip, a cold heavy rock of uncertainty rolling around in his stomach. He was no photography expert, but a hair wouldn't be behind Kyle.

Next chapter:

That moustachioed man was back, Damien noticed upon entering his father's domain, draped across a nearby couch, black tie casually loose across his teal shirt.