Authors Note: Thanks guys. :) I really do appreciate the reviews, especially from those of you who already read and reviewed this the first time around.


Chapter 8- The Voice Of Kyle.

"Stan?"

"Hmm?"

The figure next to him leaned closer and whispered directly in his ear. "Stan?" His breath smelled like the candy coated chocolates he had been eating.

"What?" His eyes were drawn to the giant movie theater screen in front of them as he sipped continuously on the straw of his drink.

Kyle placed his hand on Stan's shoulder, apparently about to make another comment on the movie, as he had about a million times already. "The way you're sucking on that straw is making me hot."

The liquid in his cup decided to run out at that moment, making a loud slurp sound as the last of the bubbles were sucked from the ice. Why was it that you couldn't even blink if something shocked you? He swallowed back apprehension. Maybe… he was joking. Right! Like they always did. Feeling silly, he turned his head to comment with a joke of his own, but the words died on his lips. Even in the darkness of the movie theater he could see lust burning in his friends eyes. His own eyes widened when he felt a hand cover his knee.

Kyle leaned closer, letting his breath linger over Stan's neck.. "Really, really hot." His hand smoothed up Stan's leg and grasped his hand, drawing it against his chest. He pulled back to gauge the excitement flickering wildly in his friends expression before continuing. "You wanna feel how hot you're making me?"

Stan's breathing was so heavy at this point he felt like he was hyperventilating. His pants too, he noticed, had become uncomfortably tight in the fly. He needed to throw up, but he couldn't seem to pull his hand away from being slowly guided to the bulge in the front of Kyle's pants. In a way, he wanted to feel…

… His eyes flew open with an overly dramatic intake of oxygen as he shot upright in bed.

"Shit... shit! Oh, God!" He practically yelped, shaking out his hand as if he had been burned. He could still feel the material of Kyle's pants, almost as if he had really touched them. He grabbed the wrist of his tingling hand and stared down at it, gasping for air.

"What the hell was that?"

He jerked at the sound of one loud knock on his bedroom door, and quickly hid his hands beneath the covers, as if they were evidence of what his dream had been.

"Stanley," His mom walked through the door, pissing him off to some degree. She may have knocked, but it wasn't like she gave him any time to respond before barging in. What if he had been naked? Sure, she had seen him that way before, but the package changed after a while, in case she forgot to notice. "Phone for you. Don't talk too long, dinner in five." She handed him the phone and walked out, actually closing the door behind her for once.

Stan let out the breath he was holding and glanced at his clock. 6:40 P.M. He had been sleeping for nearly four hours, ever since he come back home from ditching with Kyle.

Kyle…

He felt his stomach flip-flop. But something wasn't right. Something felt… different. He shifted uncomfortably beneath his sheets, lifted the edge and peaked down into his lap.

"Crap!" He wailed again when his worst fears were confirmed. "What the fuck is going on?" He glance down at the phone resting in his hand, having forgot about it until then.

He cautiously raised it to his ear, listening intently at first. "Kyle?" He croaked out.

"Not on your life, you over sensitive pussy!" Cartman's gruff, angry voice was a shock compared to expecting Kyle's soft, pleasant one.

"What do you want, Cartman?" He could feel the large amount of blood accumulated in the lower half of his body begin to pump back into less embarrassing area's.

"Something told me to check up on you. I could feel it in my gut." He answered, sounding strangely accusing. "Why the hell are you out of breath? You have Wendy there, don't you? I knew it!"

"What the fuck is your prob-"

"God damnit, Stan!" He continued to roar. "You fucking woman stealing, hippie loving, asshole!"

"I don't have Wendy over here." He explained calmly.

"You are such a bad liar! You're panting like a dog!"

A blush stained his cheeks as a flash of the dream zapped his mind. "It has nothing to do with Wendy, trust me."

"It better not, or I'll come kick you in the nuts so hard they'll fly out your fucking mouth!" He threatened. "You got that? Right out your fucking mouth!"

Stan clicked the phone off, done listening to Cartman's freak out rant. He jumped a second time as the phone screamed out, but he answered immediately. "I told you, fat ass, I don't have Wendy here! Why don't you hunt her down instead of bitching to me about it?"

"Whoa, what the hell, dude?" Kyle's voice filtered through.

Stan pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it with a surprised frown before replacing it again. "I just hung up with the fat ass. He thinks I have Wendy over here."

"So, what if you did?" Kyle questioned. "It's not like he owns her. Or is there something we don't know yet?"

"Are you calling for a reason?"

It was Kyle's turn to glance at his phone, eyebrows knit in confusion. "Since when do I need a reason to call you?"

"You didn't." He shook his head quickly. "You don't, I mean. I was just… just wondering-"

"Are you okay, Stan?" Kyle cut him off. "Because you sound really funny."

Stan bit into his lower lip, stifling a moan. Something was very wrong here…

"Are you panting?" Kyle went on, to which Stan placed a hand over his mouth in vague attempt to quiet his ever increasing lung activity. " Dude, do you have someone over there you want to tell me about?"

He exhaled quietly, squeezed his eyes closed and covered them with his hand. "No, no one's here. I'm fine, just a little… little trouble breathing."

Lie.

"You're not getting sick again, are you?"

He held back a mirthless laugh. "Not quite." He thought, glancing again at the status of his lap, accomplishing nothing but increasing anxiety. "I have to go."

"Sure, but actually I was calling for a reason. When I got back to school for detention, the teacher let me go. Something about points for courtesy. I think she meant when I "took you home" because you got sick again. Can you believe that? Miss Brown wrote off my detention for ditching. Maybe we should try that more often." He was greeted by silence. "Stan?"

"Yeah." His answer sounded suspiciously like a moan.

"I'm coming over."

"No!" He pressed his head back into his pillow, inhaling and exhaling quickly to catch his breath. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Are you mad at me for something?" Uneasiness rung his voice like a bell. "Did your parents find out we ditched, is that it?"

Stan shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you, Kyle."

"What's wrong?"

The worry in his voice sliced at Stan like a knife. He never anticipated the day there would be something he didn't want to talk to Kyle about. He never anticipated the day he wouldn't want to talk to Kyle period. But the day had come, and that broke his heart.

If I suddenly get the urge to rip off your pants and suck you dry, I'll let you know…

"Kyle?" He started hesitantly. "Would you really let me know if… if you…"

"If I what?"

"Would you want me to say anything if… what if I thought… say I had this dream- Goddamnit! Forget it."

"Okay, now I'm really worried about you. You don't sound like yourself at all."

Stan let out an exasperated sigh. Why did it seem like the more Kyle talked the harder it was to keep from withering beneath the sheets and moaning insanely? It was almost as if…

His eyes widened when realization crashed all around him.

Something you've never paid attention to before is going to make you so hard you wont even be able to sit through class with him unless you have a book over your lap to hide the evidence.

Something he never paid attention to before. Something like… Kyle's voice.

Oh, fuck.

"Stan…?"

He could feel his excitement increase with a jerk.

"Stan…?"

God, damn Cartman and his accurate predictions! Damn him straight to hell!

He bit down on his blanket and moaned deeply, listening as Kyle repeated his name. "I… have to… go." He announced breathily.

"Okay, dude." Kyle agreed reluctantly. "See you tomorrow."

Stan clicked the phone off without another word and tossed it to the side, peering under the covers one last time.

He needed to change his sheets.

----------------------------------------------

"When's it going to stop?"

"Aye! Get your goddamn hands off me!"

"Tell me, you fucking bastard!"

"Tell you what?"

"You know what!" Stan screamed, pulling Cartman closer by the grip he had on the collar of his shirt. "You did this, and now you're going to make it stop!"

Cartman choked for breath, tugging at Stan's powerful grip. "This is a new shirt, you son of a bitch! Let go!"

"Tell me!"

"Woo hoo! Rip his clothes off!" Kenny cheered as him and Kyle joined their friends at the bus stop.

"No, leave it on. For all our sakes." Kyle corrected.

"Fuck you!" Cartman cursed. "Call off your crazy ass boyfriend, you fucking Jew!"

"Kick his ass, Stan." Kyle commanded with a smile.

"Yeah, lets see some action!" Kenny agreed.

Instead, Stan opted to shove his prey onto the ground and cross his arms with a pout.

"Asshole." Cartman hissed as he stood and brushed the snow off the seat of his pants.

"What the hell was that all about, dude?" Kyle asked Stan. "Not that I'm not proud of you. Actually I think you should have kicked his ass while you had the chance." He took in his friends profile, noting the way he closed his eyes and choked back a faint moan. "Does your stomach hurt?"

Stan shook his head. Take it down about twelve inches, and there one would find the source of his problem. He could feel the pulses of electrifying arousal begin to consume him again. This wasn't good. Not good at all.

"Stan?"

He threw Kyle's hand off his shoulder, almost violently. "I told you, I'm fine." He glanced bitterly at Cartman. "Just give me some room to breath. Jesus."

Kyle watched Stan stomp up the steps of the bus and disappear inside.

"I'd stay out of his way, man." Cartman advised. "I think he might have rabies or something."

"I'll find out what's wrong." Kenny offered, shoving Cartman off the bus steps and pulling himself on.

"Ah! Kenny, you pushy bastard!" He screeched.

Kenny chuckled at the insult, but continued on his way, settling himself not so graciously in Kyle's usual spot next to Stan. "Hey, honey baby."

"Leave me alone, Kenny." He grumbled, not even bothering to shift his gaze from the window.

"It hurts me when you say that." Kenny stated with mocked offense. But he wasn't doing a very good job with his acting. His eyes were drawn to Stan's pants the entire time.

"Let me sit down, Cartman." Kyle's voice broke the atmosphere.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Cartman apologized, scooting over slightly. Before Kyle could sit, his hand shot out. "Oh, wait. Jews aren't allowed to sit near the front of the bus. You might contaminate our mountain fresh air with your Kosher breath."

Before he could respond, the bus came to an abrupt stop, sending him flying backward to land directly on Kenny's lap.

Kenny's eyebrows arched suggestively. "Does this mean you'll come into the janitors closet with me?"

Kyle's nose wrinkled in disgust as he slipped onto the seat next to Stan, knocking Kenny into the isle along the way.

"Fine. That's your loss." He promised, and sat next to Cartman, who promptly shoved him off.

"This seats taken, you poor piece of white trash!"

"By who?" He asked angrily.

"By Cartman's two asses." Kyle spoke up.

"I don't have two asses!"

"Your one qualifies as two."

"You really have a thing for my ass, don't you Kyle?" He roared, completely enraged. "Well, I'll tell you what. If you like it so damn much you can come over here and give it a nice, wet kiss!"

"I'd pay to see that." Kenny offered.

"Shut the hell up, here she comes." Cartman insisted, his anger immediately evaporating when Wendy got on. "Hi, Wendy. I saved a seat for you." He scooted closer to the window to emphasis his point.

She glanced down at the seat, then at Cartman. "Actually, I was going to-" She broke off her sentence and took in his innocent, round eyes and genuinely friendly smile. "Well," She started unsurely, giving the empty seat behind Stan and Kyle one last glance. "Thanks, that was nice of you." She mentally scolded herself as she sat down. What the hell was she thinking?

"Um…Wendy?" He asked in that I've-got-a-question-you-might-not-like voice. "Did you just happen to be at Stan's house last night?"

"No." She answered carefully. "What would make you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know." He fibbed, nervously picking at his fingers. "If Stan asked you out again, would you say yes?"

Kyle shook his head, hoping to God they wouldn't say anything to upset Stan more than he already was. He thought maybe that's what his problem was, something about Wendy, but when he looked at his friend, he wasn't even paying attention to what the two in front of them were saying. He seemed to be in a daze, or some kind of trance.

You want to feel how hot you're making me?

Stan shivered violently as the dream replayed itself over in his mind. Kyle sitting so close wasn't exactly helping things any. He held onto his own hand, afraid that if he didn't it would wander toward Kyle's lap without permission. At least he wasn't talking. That was the big thing here. He couldn't here his voice.

"Stan?"

He whipped his head around, bumping noses with Kyle. It had been whispered directly into his ear. Just like his dream.

Kyle stared him down incredulously. "Chill out. I just wanted to know if-"

"No!"

"Dude, I haven't even asked anything yet."

"I don't want to feel, Kyle!"

"Feel what?"

Stan fought to keep his eyes from trailing down to Kyle's lap, and was thankful he was able to do so.

"Okay , Stan, this has been bothering me since last night. Now what the hell is your problem?"

His breathing was ragged again, a side effect of Kyle's "talking" problem. It seemed like he did it all the time. Or maybe it was only because he noticed it now. Among other things. Those eyes. Those goddamn green eyes. "I'm going to kill Cartman." He blurted.

"Me too." Kyle agreed. "Are you pissed at him because he's putting the moves on Wendy?"

He blinked, shook his head. "Wendy?"

"Jesus Christ, here we go again." Kyle whined. "Kenny, you're pretty smart about psychological crap like this. You fix him."

"I'll fix him real good." He assured, taking the spot next to Stan again. "What's up?" He asked, actual concern tingeing the question.

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Dude, you've got to talk to someone." Kyle insisted.

"God, Kyle." Stan breathed. "Could you just stop talking?"

"It is me, isn't it?" He asked. "The least you can do is tell me what the hell I did!"

Angry in his own right, Stan shoved Kenny to the floor and stood.

"Ow! Now that is it!" Kenny wailed. "I have had enough of this bullshit!"

"Where are you going?" Kyle shouted at Stan, who was heading toward the back of the bus.

"I'm sitting with Butters." He answered in calm anger, turning to face Kyle before sitting. "I just need time away from you for a while, okay?"

"Well, that's just fine, Stan!" Kyle replied. "Sit with Butters! Make-out with him for all I care!"

Stan huffed and slid onto the seat next to Butters. He knew Kyle would take it personally. Hell, he would take it personally if Kyle was brushing him off.

"I-is everythin' alright?" Butters asked nervously.

"Yeah." Bitterness laced Stan's voice. "I was thinking about what you said, about backing off for a while. I think that's probably a good idea right now. Want to hang out with me today?"

"Boy, do I!" He exclaimed, catching himself before he threw his arms around the startled, blue-eyed boy. "I m-mean, sure I do."

He had to fight himself to keep from giggling like a girl the whole way. Stan was sitting with him, by choice! It could only get better from here.


-BratChild3 (Lisha)