Kyle approached the big oak doors, looking put together in a black and white plaid shirt, subdued pewter tie and black suit jacket with the barest hint of windowpanel pattern. Though he looked clean and neat, his insides were anything but. In his stomach sat a constrictor, slowly squeezing and writhing.
Taking hold of the smooth black handle, the door swung open soundlessly.
The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, illuminating the dark, wooden walls. Kyle walked past the frosted, sage, suede sofas, his heels clicking on the mid-toned hardwood. As the door shut behind him, the busy din of the office disappeared completely, leaving him in a pocket of silence. The ceiling seemed to close in on him, dark and oppressive.
"Your coffee." He spoke quietly, afraid to disrupt the pristine quiet.
Kyle set the cup down on the stately desk. Cartman's cushioned chair swiveled around. The built-ins cut the coldness of the room with recess lighting illuminating various accolades and tomes. Behind him sat a large greyscale painting, the looming mountains a backdrop for his dark shining eyes.
Picking up the cup wordlessly, he went to take a sip and frowned.
"Kahl, this coffee is too hot. Blow on it until it cools down."
Kyle's jaw clenched. '
"Maybe next time I won't order it extra hot then?" 'You fucking idiot.' He bit his tongue to keep his words only in his mind. Speaking through a forced smile, he picked up the cup.
"Though your unsophisticated palate might not be able to taste the difference, the rest of us can. Now blow."
"...my mistake."
"Of course it is Kahl."
He was already starting to have his doubts that he'd be able to pull this off.
Pulling down his mask, the smells of the room flooded him. It was similar to most elite offices. It was the kind of smell you get when you combine oiled leather chairs, luxury sofas and solid wooden desks. But beneath the clean scent of corporation was a scent steeped deeply into every facet of the room. It drifted towards him; it pulled at a part of him he would gladly forget about forever given the opportunity. He looked back at Cartman, noticing his thick eyelashes as he glanced over documents. Kyle took several steps back.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Go answer it." Cartman scribbled away, not bothering to so much as glance up.
Placing the coffee back on his desk Kyle swung open the doors and in rolled a cart with a shiny, silver cloche.
"Your breakfast sir." The man was a new face, but Kyle could make several guesses at his position.
Alexander, who had followed in tow, lifted the dome, revealing a spread of sparkling fruits and vegetables with poached eggs jiggling at the center. Just looking at it had made Kyle's meagre fare of boiled eggs this morning look quite bland in comparison.
"Is this fucking cottage cheese?"
"Erm... what?" The man with the cart paled.
"Is this," his finger stabbed at the offending pile of white chunks, "fucking cottage cheese?"
"Y-yes it is. It has lots of protein... since you had said you were still hungry I..." The muscled man shrunk, wringing his hands, his expression becoming mousy.
Cartman exhaled sharply. The man went silent.
"I get only one small breakfast a day - the first meal of the day and one of the most important ones." Cartman's finger rose for emphasis, waggling back and forth before he jabbed it on the table. "I didn't think my requests were too much given how much you're being paid... so you must understand how upset I am that THERE'S GODDAMN COTTAGE CHEESE ON MY BREAKFAST!"
"I-I'm sorry, I'll fix it now."
"No. No, you won't. Alexander, find another nutritionist. One who can follow instructions."
"M-Mr. Cartman?" The dietician's voice was almost pleading.
Kyle shifted uncomfortably. He tried not to look at the desperate expression on the man's face.
"Are you still here? You're FIRED. F-I-R-E-D. Get out!"
"Mr. Cartman, sir, I-"
"OUT!"
Suddenly Kyle was in Cartman's basement playing games with Kenny and Stan. He remembered Ms. Cartman had come down with snacks and lingered too long to chat with the boys. When Cartman had yelled at her his voice had the same grating texture as it did now.
The man trundled out slowly, still looking like he was in shock.
"Sir, if I may suggest... this is the fourth one you've fired in the past two months." Alexander folded his hands into one another.
"Hmm?" Cartman's eyebrow rose.
"At this rate I fear we may run out of nutritionists. Then I would need to go out of state, increasing the price. I know your budget was firm, so I would like to forewarn you." His placid face betrayed no fear, no doubt, just a man who knew he was doing his due diligence. He seemed like the only kind of man who could consistently work closely with Cartman.
"I see your point." He finally said, more than a little curt.
"Sir." Excusing himself, Alexander left the office, and once again it was plunged into a tension-filled silence.
Brown eyes turned accusingly towards him.
"What is it Kahl?" Cartman's silver fork clattered to the table. His pleasant smile became more menacing. "You're making such an interesting face."
Kyle faltered. He realized he has been holding his breath during the exchange. He hadn't realized his expression had been that obvious.
"Do you treat all your employees like that? It was one mistake."
"Kahl, if you were paying for a service that didn't deliver said service, would you want to continue paying for the person providing that service?"
"..."
"Of course you wouldn't. We don't run a charity here. So if you have time to be asking these types of questions, that must mean that you need more work." Cartman expression changed in the blink of an eye. Where his brows had been furrowed and his gaze sharp, he now looked at ease and was grinning amicably. His chair creaked as he stood. He grabbed a stack of papers and stalked around the desk. Coming chest to chest, Kyle had to look up, just slightly, to meet his eyes. The way Cartman looked down on him he must have thought it was at least a foot difference. He rose a hand that had a couple thick tomes within.
"Protocol for answering the phone, accessing messages, setting up the voicemail, accessing my calendar, booking appointments etcetera."
He slapped it into Kyle's arms.
"Reports to read. Have the teams assembled and briefed by the end of the day, Wednesday."
Slap!
"Letters to be typed and sent before noon."
Slap!
"Current projects. Know what their goals are and what step of the process they're on."
Slap!
As the pile grew in Kyle's hands so did his dread. Kyle estimated it would take the entire day to even scratch the surface.
"Oh yeah, you also have a personal project for your time as my aide. I expect the pitch... hmm... Thursday morning as well as your plan's pitch presentation. I'll send an email for the meeting time. Here's your guidebook," slap! "examples," slap!, "employee handbook," slap!, "and we'll need to book an evaluation date for you. Invite me on the system calendar for all your presentations. I'll pop into whatever one I can make. Got that all?"
Kyle's jaw clenched as his snide tone of voice.
"Got it."
Turning his back his mind already began to drift towards his tasks. He was almost to the door when Cartman spoke again.
"Got it ... what?" He asked, much like a teacher would her student.
Kyle's lips curled down in disgust and he turned to stare Cartman in the face.
"Really? Right now when someone could come in?" He tried.
"Alexander is the only one." Cartman put his pen to the side, his thick fingers twining through each other as he waited expectantly. The boyish expression made his suit and coiffed hair look ridiculous.
"Got it... Master Cartman." He choked out, a dreadful feeling squirming through his body. He could feel his face contort as if he'd taken a big bite out of lemon, pith and all.
"That was terrible Kahl. I'll only let you get away with it the first time. Go on now." He waved his hand dismissively.
As soon as the door swung shut Kyle hissed a slew of insults beneath his breath.
'Only Cartman is deranged enough to write something as stupid as that into a contract.' He fumed all the way to his desk. He was thankful, at the very least, that Cartman maintained the facade of a fair and equal company and most degrading things would be left behind closed doors.
It was time to ignore the fact that Cartman existed in this office, and to put his nose to the grindstone. At the very least, he now had a job. The first order of business was to get those letters done. He frowned at the 'to-do' list already stuck to his desk (arrange the pick-up for Mr. Cartman's lunch, take all calls and schedule meetings, monitor and check billing of other companies' fees, file Mr. Cartman's documents and neaten his office daily etc.).
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find the supply room?" He stopped the person nearest to him. He looked up from his work, eyes cold.
"Room 1832."
"Thanks."
Kyle wondered around.
"1824, 1826, 1828, what the hell?"
Kyle was staring to feel a little nervous about leaving the phone unattended for as long as he had, but those letters had to be out this morning. He glanced at his watch, picking up his pace. He remembered there might have been a map by the elevator.
Bump!
"Oh sorry!" Kyle was already apologizing, "I wasn't looking where I was going." The papers fluttered to the ground.
"That's alright... Oh! It's interview guy!"
Kyle looked up from the papers he was helping to collect and noticed the same cheery face he'd seen his very first day here.
"Oh hello! It's good to see you again!"
"Congratulations!" The blonde bent down and began assembling pages as well.
"...Thanks!" Kyle forced a smile.
"My name's Bradley. I work in marketing."
"My name's Kyle. It's nice to meet you... again." This time his smile was genuine.
Kyle handed over the stack of papers he'd collected, noticing how torn up the side of Bradley's nails were.
"Can I ask you a quick question, if you're not in a hurry." Kyle inquired.
"Sure, what is it?"
"Where in the world is room 1832?"
Bradley's face took on a puzzled grin, and then it slowly disappeared. He looked down at his papers, arranging them awkwardly.
"Who are you looking for?"
"I was told I could find letterhead there."
Bradley shook his head.
"Follow me. Why don't I show you around?"
"I don't want to bother you, you seem plenty busy."
"I insist."
The finality cut Kyle's further objections and he trailed after Bradley who turned about-face and was off like a speed waking champion. He had to hustle just to keep up.
With Bradley leading, he retraced his steps closer and closer until his desk was in sight once more.
The blonde opened a door, not 30 steps away, cached in a shadowy corner. Neatly stacked and stocked was every office supply he could ever think to need. Closest to the door were several boxes of letterhead and company stamped envelopes.
"Oh..." Kyle frowned. It didn't take long for the shock to seep into something darker. Bradley grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room. The door swung shut silently behind them.
"This was a storage closet before. I cleaned it out and made a space for the aide." When he saw Kyle's face he clarified, "I used to be in your position. It was annoying to have to walk halfway across the building whenever I needed some more tape." He sighed and folded his arms.
"If you have any questions – any at all – you call or e-mail me."
"Okay." Kyle nodded.
Bradley grabbed his shoulder.
"You won't be bothering me. I've been there, so I know what it's like. Especially when you don't have someone to help. There are a lot of people who want to see you grow here. Okay? Not everyone's an ass like him."
Bradley's eyes looked intense, even if he was trying to make his voice sound light. Whatever his reasons, Kyle figured he could use the help.
"Thanks Bradley." He noticed his coworker ease at once.
"Good." His grip lightened and he slapped a handful of letterhead into his hands and shooed him out of the room.
"Again, anything. Let. Me. Know." He scribbled down his e-mail and extension on a post-it. He waved as he strolled away.
"Bradley Grace." Kyle looked at his info as he sat, clicking open the word processor. While he waited for the program to open he glanced at the man across from him at the other desk.
He glanced up at Kyle and chortled.
Kyle clenched his jaw. He debated telling him off, but the blank document had finally opened, and he was already running far behind.
Lacing his fingers, he pushed them outwards.
A new window suddenly popped open, prompting him to sign into his e-mail. He typed in his credentials.
'Twenty-eight new emails?'
A descending chime rang, signalling another new e-mail.
'Fuck me.'
"Your meeting is in five minutes. They'll be waiting in conference room C."
His first official project.
Kyle was running on nothing but sheer will power and coffee. The first few weeks had been hellish. Learning routines and settling into the groove of working after having been idle for so long had already taken its toll. Learning the different software, the contacts and extensions of various departments, the contacts of other companies, and managing Cartman's schedule had been just scratching the tip of the iceberg. He had his personal project to top it off. Proposal after proposal had been sent, and time and time again Cartman had ripped it apart and Kyle had to redraft everything. Twelve-hour days had been his normal. Making dinner was all he could manage to do at the end of the day before passing out and starting all over again.
"Thanks." Grabbing his portfolio and checking for the sixteenth time that everything was ready Kyle took in a deep breath. He didn't know if he was nervous or not. He was so tired he didn't know if he even had the energy to be nervous.
"Good morning Mr. Guevara!" Kyle reached out and shook his hand firmly. "Ms. Lefever." He continued down the line of executives. As he did, he felt his legs begin to shake. Maybe he did have enough energy to be nervous. Or maybe it was the 5-hour energy drink finally kicking in.
Not even a few minutes into his presentation the jitters were starting to fade. Or they had been until the door opened. Kyle's attention was pulled from the safety of his PowerPoint presentation.
"Mr. Cartman. D...D-did you need something?"
Why the hell was he here? He was supposed to be busy. He was supposed to have had a phone conference. Kyle knew, because he had booked it for him specifically at that time so that he wouldn't be here.
"Oh don't mind me. I had the time so I figured I would check in to see how everything's going. Just pretend like I'm not even here." He grinned his business grin. "So good to see you all, I hope you're doing well." He addressed the executives and began to sidle to the back.
"Here." Kyle hurried over to hand him a packet. "We're on page 4."
He paused while Cartman sat himself down and opened his book. Grabbing another for himself he noticed how quickly his heart was beating. He hadn't mentally prepped himself for his evaluation. Actually, he had been intentionally planning all his big meetings at the same time as Cartman's, to try and put it off until he got more practice.
"Uh... okay... hmm... where were we...? Ah, yes!" Kyle picked up, pushing ahead. Every so often as he would cast his eyes around the room, they would lock onto an unblinking pair at the back of the room. Many of the execs were attentive, but alternated their gaze between himself, the book and the presentation. That was the normal thing to do. Cartman, however, had been staring at him the entire time.
Kyle began to feel warm beneath his collar. Turning off the lights he glanced around the room again. This time Cartman was staring with an odd expression at his chest.
He quickly glanced down at his shirt, wondering if he had some stain or mark. He didn't notice anything offensive. He continued on, but felt suddenly conscious of his chest. He had worn an undershirt hadn't he? He'd put on deodorant, but was he starting to sweat through? There was no way to know without making it obvious.
Turning the lights back on he stole a secretive glance. He was fine. No pit marks.
"Let me... uh..." He stared ahead. Cartman had picked up one of the stylus pens provided. He was slowly rubbing the tip of his finger on the rubber, moving it in slow circles.
"I..."
Though he tried to look away he found he couldn't. Somehow, someway he was now fixated on it. How soft the rubber looked, how it popped out of the places his finger couldn't cover, the insistent movement.
'Why the hell is he rubbing the pen like that?' Kyle also noticed that although it was his evaluation, Cartman had yet to write a single thing down.
Suddenly his finger stopped circling. He lifted the pen up to his lapel and gently slid it into his pocket. The way he was handling the pen was rubbing Kyle the wrong way. It was disturbing... it was... almost...
'Ero... no. Stop it. He's messing with you. He's trying to throw you off.'
As soon as Kyle glared at him, he knew it was a mistake.
Cartman's dark eyes hit him with a force so hard the rest of the room seemed to disappear. It was the kind of look that Cartman got as a kid when talking about becoming a millionaire. They were like black holes, and it felt like slowly, inescapably, he would be sucked in.
"Mr. Broflovski?"
Kyle tore his eyes away, the meeting room tumbling back into view.
"Yes, Ms. Lefever?"
"Are you going to continue?"
"Y-yes. I've given you a lot of information. I would like to write some of my recap points on the whiteboard."
He looked back to Cartman once more, unable to help himself. This time Cartman's eyes rested south of his waist. Kyle flushed and turned quickly. He was sure Cartman was just fucking with him, but just in case.
Kyle glanced down, expecting his fly to be undone. Nothing. He sighed, disappointed in himself.
As he wrote, he felt the prick of being watched. He was conscious, now, of how well fitted his suit was. It had been a tighter fit before, but after his stressful days and his long nights, he had gained more than a few pounds. Now his suit fit very well indeed. As he neatly enumerated his work, his mind was dragged to how his pants now seemed to cling to his legs, no doubt emphasizing a certain something to everyone behind him. It took all his focus to order his points and to try and ignore how the seam between his legs snuggled further and further up.
Please turn your page to find a detailed break down of the numbers."
Kyle stood and gave them a chance to look over the data.
"Hmm, maybe mine is out of order, I don't see it." Ms. Lefever started.
"I don't have any either." Mr. Guevara shook his head in disapproval.
Kyle frowned. Suddenly his suit seemed of little consequence. He leafed through his own booklet to check. He'd checked and rechecked countless times that everything would be ready, in order, and all deadlines were met. But in the booklet, the key pages were simply gone. Looking through the entire package it wasn't misplaced. It was simply gone. Who had he placed in charge of the data?
Johnson. It was Johnson.
Kyle glanced at him and saw a smug look on his face, disguised thinly as confusion. He'd been in charge of creating the booklets and making sure they were ready on the table. Kyle fumed, and hoped to god it wasn't showing on his face. The execs were starting to exchange glances.
"Sir, I gave you the data sheets like you'd asked earlier today." Johnson volunteered.
'Bullshit you did!' Kyle tried to keep his face neutral, but there was the tiniest hint of a smug grin on Cartman's face that almost made him lose it. He had to get the presentation back on track. Luckily he'd put it in the electronic version as well.
"If you'll turn your attention to the screen then..." he clicked to the next slide, but what came up next was not the slide with the numbers he needed. It felt as if a stone had dropped in his stomach. He felt sick. He had prepared so long for this presentation. He'd missed out on so much sleep because it had to be perfect. He'd spent so much time checking and rechecking, and now because of one person things were crumbling apart right in front of the people who he needed to impress the most. More than that, it was not of any fault of his own. Or maybe it had been his fault – maybe he should have been more cautious of the people on his team. It was a terrible way to learn that lesson though, and in front of Cartman no less. His finger traced the scar on the back of his hand. He knew what he looked like, and it wasn't good.
"One moment while I get things working." Kyle could feel his face heat up and the back of his head prickle. He felt light-headed as the sweat begin to drip down his back. He could feel the hot stares of the execs and knew they weren't impressed.
He faced the screen, looking dumbly at it. He flicked back to the previous slide and forwards again as if that might make it appear. He closed out of the presentation and reopened it, trying to buy himself time. He was so tired though, and his brain felt like it was trudging through molasses.
"Umm." Wait! He had memorized the numbers too hadn't he? Just in case. He tried desperately to remember, his heart pumping faster and harder.
'Come on you dumb, fucking idiot. Why can't you remember the numbers? You were top of your class and now you can't even remember a few stats? What's wrong with you?' The more Kyle tried to force himself, the more his data became elusive. At the back of his mind he could see Cartman chiding him, berating him, looking down on him with his dark, glittering eyes. He'd be forced to sit in his office like some kid in the principal's office. How degrading.
"Uh." He stopped fiddling on his laptop and faced the room.
This was like a nightmare he'd had. Only this time it was real. His face burned in embarrassment. He knew it was beet red, he could feel it.
"I'll…" Kyle cleared his throat as his voice cracked. In their eyes, he could see the judgement. Out of all the looks, the one that hurt the most was the woman at the back, who had been checking her watch. Even worse than Cartman's utter enjoyment was the bored expression on her face, as if this had been what she expected. A presentation by an omega – of course it was a waste of time.
"L-Let me print some new copies. I'll be right back. Please help yourself to any coffee and snacks." He gestured at the table.
As he turned the whispers erupted.
He tried not to listen to them, but his ears were acutely tuned into their hushed voices. Each new phrase was a dagger that he jammed further and further inside of his sense of self and pride.
As he was about to reach for the door handle it flung open, nearly decking him in the head. He flinched back, startled to see a disgruntled blonde before him.
"Bradley?" Kyle questioned, mouth agape.
"Kyle! I mean... Mr... Kyle, I saw these on Mr. Johnson's desk and thought you might need them! I came straight away!"
The constrictor in his stomach released and a flood of relief washed over him, he couldn't even hide his elated smile.
All eyes in the room shifted to Johnson, now shrinking into his chair.
"S-sorry Mr. Broflovski. I could have sworn… I gave them to you."
"Well, we can sort this out later. Let's not waste any more time. Thank you Bradley." Kyle beamed clapping him on his back. He could feel his jaw unclenching.
"Ladies, gentleman, please take a copy."
The large doors swung silently shut behind him. The last part of the day and the part he'd been dreading the most. His debrief from Cartman.
"So Kahl, you've had your first big meeting... tell me how you think it went."
Kyle watched as the booklet of forms and reports he'd had to fill out was tossed to the side.
"Well... I think... it went well." He started stiffly. 'How the fuck do you think it went fatass?' His thoughts raged inside him. "I think they liked the ideas. Mr. Guevara in particular liked -"
"Not their reactions Kahl. I could see those for myself."
Kyle rounded the chair and sat himself down, figuring he may be here awhile.
"There were obviously some sheets missing from both my booklets and the PowerPoint. It was resolved without any issue."
"Did you forget to include them?" Kyle looked closely at Cartman. The shine in his eyes and his leading tone clued him in that Cartman knew something.
"No, actually. I didn't. You seem to know quite a bit about it though. Would you care to fill me in on it?" Had it not been Johnson at all?
Cartman shrugged, his chair groaning as he leaned back.
Kyle leaned forward. If Cartman wanted him to be more direct, he would be more direct. "Did you do something?"
Cartman cracked a grin and chided him. "You wound me dear Kahl. That's not my style, you know that."
"Then it was him." Kyle blurted out.
"What was him?"
Kyle stopped himself. Even if he'd been sabotaged, he hadn't been observant enough to notice. If he wanted to stand on his own, he refused to make excuses and blame others.
'Don't fall for his goading again Kyle. You do it every time.' He took a breath, in and out.
"Don't worry about it Master Cartman. It's nothing I can't handle. " Kyle's fists tightened around the plush green arms of the chair.
Cartman rose from the chair, grabbing Kyle's report and smacking it in the palm of his hand. With each smack he took a slow step around the desk until he was in front of Kyle. The redhead watched him as he leaned his bulk back on the top of the desk; their knees were so close Kyle could feel the fabric of Cartman's pants catch on his own. He stared at the breach of personal space.
"You know, come to think of it, I've heard of a few times where things would go missing during presentations."
The backlighting of his desk clouded his face in shadows.
"If you want to tell me something, why don't you just say it to my face?" Kyle needled. Cartman wasn't letting it go, but usually by now he'd be degrading Kyle directly. He glared at the man. What was he getting at?
"You're still fresh here so I'll give you some friendly advice. In the business world there will be people you can trust and people you can't. You need to find out who those people are and how to deal with them. Both in company and outside." He dropped the report in Kyle's lap.
'No shit Sherlock.' Kyle breathed, in and out. "Sure. Did you need anything else?" At the very least, Kyle took that as a sign that he could go. It had been a long day indeed. The sun had already long ago disappeared.
"No."
He stood from the chair and turned towards the door. From behind him he heard Cartman gathering his affairs. Why had he been so cryptic? Kyle tried to recall when he'd been given the assignment. Cartman had given him the procedure; he'd submitted several proposals of which one had finally gotten approved. The next day he'd met with his team. The team assigned to him by Alexander... The team assigned by Alexander, the man who handled Cartman's day-to-day affairs, not his business affairs. Which meant that it hadn't been the older man who'd picked the workers at all.
Kyle stopped in front of the door.
"It was you."
He turned to Cartman who was scant few steps away.
"What did I do?" He asked innocently.
"You knew..." The pieces were starting to fall into place. Cartman had left obvious clues, dangling them in front of him and Kyle had been completely oblivious to it. It was positively infuriating.
"You knew what kind of person he was, and you put that asshole on my team!"
"Nothing that you can't handle though... right?"
"Fuck you, fatass!" It had slipped out that time, but he was having a hard time caring.
Kyle turned and yanked open the door.
SLAM!
His fingers stung as the handle was ripped from his palm. He saw a thick hand leaning against the door, blocking his way out. He felt Cartman's hot breath on his neck, sending a course of shivers throughout his body.
"Don't forget Kahl: you belong to me now. In more ways than you know." Cartman's finger traced lightly the nape of his neck. Kyle's breath caught, and for a moment he remembered the sickly sweet aroma of strawberry poptarts. Kyle flipped around pressing his hand to his neck and his back to the door.
'You're not in heat. He can't do anything to you. You're not in heat. He can't do anything to you.' He chanted like a mantra as he had a thousand times before, be it with Cartman or with someone else. He forced his hand drop to his side.
"I owe you... money. That's all."
"A lot of money." Cartman corrected. "I always did love taking your money." Cartman's voice dropped to a gentle coo. "Now, taking your money and getting to watch you do your very best work just for me... let me tell you Kahl, it feels amazing." The way he'd said it, it didn't sound like he was talking about work.
"I'm not working for your sake!"
"Oh? So what is it? Your pride as an employee? Or maybe your pride as an omega?" He was taunting him now.
Kyle glared.
"You'll need to work on your poker face as well, working here." Cartman reached out to cup his chin, but Kyle caught his hand halfway.
"Don't touch me." He tightened his grip on Cartman's wrist.
Cartman pulled his hand close, his fingers coming up to trace the silvery half moon on Kyle's hand.
"It's still pretty clear, isn't it? Where I bit you."
"On my hand it's nothing more than a scar from a stupid mistake I made as a kid." Kyle tried to jerk his hand away, but Cartman was faster. This time it was his turn to grab Kyle's wrist.
"If it had been on your neck, it would be a different story, wouldn't it Kahl? I would be the only alpha you could be with for the rest of your life. And you'd be mine."
"Never in a million years would that happen." Kyle vowed.
"It'll happen in five months." Cartman pushed his fingers between Kyle's, forcing their hands together.
"It'll be fake." Kyle spat.
"For all intents and purposes, you will appear as 'mine.' That will be good enough... for now." The warmth of his palm made Kyle's skin tingle.
"Five months, then your 'work' really begins."
