The Liquor Stone was located on the outskirts of the north of town. It was basically off the road leading to the camp sites which the infrequent tourists frequented. A small, squat building, it was in a small sub division of other stores of various selection; most of the bait, trap, or gun variety. Despite being 'on the outs', the store was less then a fifteen minute brisk walk from the main road which dumped back into the suburbia area. Thus, Kyle walked to and from work with his house keys twirling around his fingers and a small light held in his other hand. He went to work at four in the afternoon, stayed through dinner, and made the lonely walk back home just after midnight. The shift was the graveyard, yes, but it did mean that he was able to see his friends without having them crashing his job. Although they did so anyways, he preferred they not. For that reason, he worked the graveyard and he walked to the square building with considerable resentment for it.
The first few weeks had been indistinguishable from one another. He sat behind the counter in a wheelie chair and flipped through liquor catalogs the boss was supposed to be browsing. He rang up the customers, bitched out drunks trying to steal, and even threw a couple punches that earned him an extra five bucks in tips from laughing co workers. As far as the Jew could tell, he was the only person on staff with enough brain cells to work the cash register. After all, they always 'talked' about switching positions, but he remained forever behind the uncomplicated machine. He didn't mind it much. He'd rather be bored senseless then in the back room smoking joints, counting revenue, or hauling stock.
Behind that register was where Kyle was seated a few days following the shocking reveal that his closest friend was gay. He found his mind wandering over the fact idly while he pressed his cheek deep within his knuckles. He had an elbow propped on a stack of old fishing magazines and his other flipping pages in a wine catalog. He was utterly alone, for his boss had stepped out for lunch, three hours ago, and his only co worker was checking the stock. Bubba, a big, beefy man, had been checking said stock since Kyle had arrived on the shift an hour ago. He had spat out the location of the boss man, then slipped out the door to check stock, despite the fact that stock was not in that general direction. The bait shop with the blond with fake titties was, but not the stock. Nevertheless, Kyle was alone and was well aware that he was going to be until he had to lock up. By then, Bubba would return and the boss would phone in his trust that his workers could lock up.
Turning a page and eyeing an expensive bottle of red wine, Kyle plucked a piece of milk chocolate from a variety bag spread on the counter. As his dinner break was still two hours off, he unwrapped it absentmindedly and placed the yummy treat on his tongue. He chewed it as he did a scan of the empty store out of habit. He knew well enough that there were no customers within those four walls. There hadn't been for forty five minutes. Judging by the growing dimness outside the bullet proof glass, Kyle guessed he wouldn't be seeing many at all. Sighing, then, he rolled his eyes and returned to examining the outrageous price tags on those elegant bottles of refined booze.
As he was reading up on the method of ordering, however, he heard the click of the door opening. He briefly glanced up, checking to see if it were Bubba to complain about how slow it was in hopes of being sent home early. When he looked, though, he was met with a sight for sore eyes. Slinking in through the double doors were Stan and Kenny, arm in arm and hip to hip, as they had been since they had become an official item a few days beforehand. The poor boy giggled into his fingers as he whispered something into the activist's shoulder. Glancing up at him, then, there was a flash of a certain catty smile before Kenny slipped out from under Stan's arm. He pressed his dirty fingers to his lips, blew a popping smack of a kiss, and then trooped off towards the coolers lining the walls stocked with hard liquor. The aquamarine eyes of the other watched that tiny frame leave. Seeing him running his fingers over the names, though, he turned back to the now grinning Kyle. Giving an expressionless wave, Stan approached the counter. The activist picked on one of the scattered pieces of chocolate, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.
" That's mine, you know," Kyle teased, pointing up at the brunette. Stan gave a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder to express just how much he cared, " My dinner break isn't for another two hours,"
" Hey. How's business?" Stan greeted him, blatantly ignoring his best friend. Glancing around, those aquamarine orbs took in the store as the Jew had only moments before. He noted the empty aisles, save for the McCormick boy, and returned his gaze to his friend. The smile he cast was devoid of the sarcasm written in his words, " Kinda slow,"
" Try kinda nonexistent,"
" Wow. That sucks,"
" Tell me about it," the redhead mumbled unimpressively, picking up another piece of candy and unwrapping it slowly and deliberately. Stan rolled his eyes in agreement, thumbing to the clock stuck over a cooler for the Bud Lite. The sparkling emeralds of sheer boredom flashed over to it, taking in the devastating realization that it was still just after five.
" How long you stuck here?" Stan questioned idly, his eyes blanking back to the cold apathy they were renown for. Whatever lagging emotion might have been present was quickly extinguished. Kyle was immune to the sudden emptiness, however, and didn't react in any sense of the phrase.
" Till midnight," he answered plainly, placing the chocolate on his tongue. He chewed it, tapping his fingers on the pages of the catalog spread out over the counter. As though to emphasis his agitation, he rolled his eyes up in a slow arch, " Then I get to go home. Sleep until ten, wake up, and get here by four,"
" Harsh. So. . ." the activist's voice trailed off as he tapped the scrunched up wrapper on the counter. He saw the pressure to those emeralds, awaiting the question he wasn't sure he was ready to present. Chewing on his lower lip, then, Stan quickly averted his stare.
He found his gaze resting on the succulent backside of his darling Kenny. Those slender legs were shown so perfectly in short jean shorts, although his loose and unzipped parka hid the arch to his lower back and bottom. Still, he scanned down those thighs, up to those dirt stained fingers gripping the necks of two different bottles of rum and vodka. Swallowing dryly, Stan slowly removed his stare and placed it back on those curls and dark eyes in a pale face of stern unconcern. Kyle ate another piece of candy, his fingers tapping impatiently. Weakly, Stan smiled as he forced himself to ask.
" Can I borrow twenty or thirty bucks?"
" I'm sorry," Kyle stated in a rather matter of fact tone as he physically withdrew from Stan. He pressed his shoulders into the back of his chair. The look he cast up through his tangled mess of loose curls was distasteful. A look truly consumed by his own frustrations with the topic. The activist almost took back his statement when he saw those flames flaring up in those emeralds. Still, when the Jew spoke, his timbre was shockingly even, " Did you just ask me for money?"
" Yeah?" the activist actually felt the need to say it as a question. Considering this was the first time he had ever officially asked Kyle for money, he wasn't entirely sure how this would play out. Yes, Stan had borrowed money from his friend before. Yet, he had only borrowed dollars at a time for lunch and the like. This, though, was the first time he had every borrowed what could be classified, and was classified in their group, as a large sum of money. As Kyle wasn't exactly the frivolous type, he wasn't sure how painful he was gearing up to make this.
" Like how you ask your parents for money?" the Jew sneered, fanning his hands out in a stop motion for clarification. There was a touch of heat rolling over his flesh despite the eerie chill he felt within his mind. Assuming this to be the first rise of passionate argument in the last two weeks, Kyle ignored the contradictory emotions. He just relished the pleasure and continued forth in his attempt to goad out a fight, " Like, as in, 'I owe you', 'I pay you back', 'swear to god', that bullshit?"
" Please don't make a big deal outta it. I just. . ." the other interjected, giving a halfhearted shrug. He could feel the heat licking along the air. He felt that knowingly cold frost forming a shield to the redhead's notorious anger. As such, his responses were as flat as ever, " Used up my allowance already,"
" You know you still owe me twenty-five bucks from the school year, right?" Kyle casually reminded him, tapping a piece of chocolate on the counter. Stan let out an exaggerated sigh which never reflected itself within his tone nor his facial expressions. He tasted the heat and he ignored the bait. He knew exactly what Kyle was fishing for and he wasn't about to give it to him. After all, Stan knew better than pretty much anyone how antsy the Jew became when deprived a chance to scream; like he had been for the proceeding weeks. Thus, Stan rolled with the building embers and nodded absentmindedly.
" Yeah. And I'll pay you back. I just . . . need some money for tonight," he vaguely explained, motioning his hands to nothing in particular. Two emeralds shimmered with a burning desire to stick a pin in his throat to watch him bleed out or lash out or both. Instead of digging it in for the blood, Kyle smiled a coyly venomous smile as he unwrapped his selected candy.
" You sound like a drug addict. 'Yeah, I'll pay you back, I just need some more'," the Jew lightly jeered, placing the chocolate on his acid tongue. He chewed it as he smoothed open the wrapped to another. As though to sweeten his biting words, he spoke with his mouth full. Stan felt his hands clenching at his sides at this childish display, recalling the practice from their grade school days when Kyle used to be so gifted at riling him up, " I should charge you interest. Start running a bank here,"
Stan had to admit Kyle still had it. That deliciously sinful gift for inciting rage within even the deadest soul.
" Yeah, whatever. Look," the activist growled, desperately trying to even his tone. Gesturing offhandedly towards the bare thighs and jacketed torso of his charmingly deviant boyfriend, he leaned down close to the other. Kyle ate another piece of chocolate, his gaze peering up through his hair in good cheer. Taking a deep, iced breath, Stan managed to control the frost attempting to puncture his voice, " I promised I'd take Kenny on a date tonight, but I'm short on cash. Be a pal. Help me out. Please?"
The frost ate down the fire until the embers were smoldering, but restrained within the depths of those glowing, green orbs.
" Okay, okay. I was just messing with you. Don't be a pill," Kyle assured him, flicking his wrist dismissively at him. The Jew put another piece of sugar into his mouth, before he ducked out of sight briefly. He fumbled around in his personal bag, kept hidden behind the counter, and dug out his lime green wallet with the golden Star of David etched into the corner. From this, Kyle fished out thirty dollars and held it out to Stan. He held it tightly between his index and middle fingers in a fashion reminiscent of a certain Nazi, " You owe me,"
" I know, I know," Stan muttered, taking the money and slipping it into his back pocket. As he was opening his mouth to say something else, however, they both heard loud footsteps heading their way. Kenny leaned around one of the aisles, his parka swinging about his skinny frame. He grabbed hold of one of the shelves and thumbed back behind his glitter gleaming sapphires.
" Hey, Loverboy, you fuckin' comin' over here to gimme some goddamn help or what?" the poor boy shouted, his voice unbelievably loud in the confines of the tiny shop. The softest of smiles smoothed over Stan's formerly dead expression as he wiggled his fingers at the blond. Kenny beamed back at him, his smile wide and unrestrained.
" Yeah. Hang on," the activist called back. He turned back to regard the Jew who watched him with muted amused eyes. Taking two pieces of chocolate, Stan began to unwrap them quickly. He then tilted his head at Kyle, popping one of them into his mouth, " Thanks, dude,"
" You owe me for the candy too," he informed him as he ate two pieces at once. He pointed up at the aquamarine eyes watching him in a distracted sort of way, " Don't think I didn't notice,"
" Sure,"
With that, Stan gave a final wave and left from his place at the counter. He drifted over to where Kenny remained to aide in the search for appropriate liquor. Before they continued with their all important quest, though, Stan presented Kenny with his gift of milk chocolate. Much like a child would, Kenny clapped his hands and stuck out his tongue to be fed the treat. Stan was all too happy to oblige. Kenny bounced slightly on his heels as his boyfriend smiled a coldly warm smile down at him. Then, the blond gently snatched up the brunette's hand and lead him down the aisle towards his selections. They thus vanished from sight, leaving the now highly amused Kyle by his lonesome.
The minutes dragged on as they had before the arrival of the darling new couple. Kyle sat there, idly snacking on chocolate and looking over the pages of the catalog again. He was quite sure he would be able to recite it word for word by the time his shift was over with, yet it really was the only interesting thing around. As such, he noticed all the sounds of giggling and muffled voices floating up from the other side of the Liquor Stone. Smiling, he continued to read in his solitude, leaving them to their own world of happiness.
After a few minutes passed in this manner, the click of the door opening echoed out in the quiet. Kyle read on about how a bottle of wine was made versus another one on the same page. He noted that there was a customer was in the store, but he didn't bother with acknowledging them. Honestly, he wasn't sure how much he cared. Turning the page of his catalog, then, he didn't notice it when the footsteps headed up to the counter and came to a stop in front of him. There was a vague moment when Kyle zoned out entirely to the words on the page. This was the moment he heard that sugar sweet voice easing down his spine like the hot fingers of death.
" What's up, Kahl?"
The smoothness to the voice electrified Kyle as he jumped to the touch which never physically found his skin. He ripped his eyes away from the pages and found himself staring at the massive expanse of Cartman's stomach. Taking in the lovely bloodied splatter which made the graphic tee much more graphic, he ran his wide emeralds over the girth the Nazi had gained since they were little children. The fire uncurled furiously, exciting his blood into a flurry. His skin burned with the embers rising viciously to the surface after the activist had shut them down. Slowly, the Jew raised his heavy gaze from that belly up to that sweetly grinning face. Honey eyes watched him as his body was engulfed in a white heat of desperation to scream. Yet, Kyle sat still, awaiting the invitation as the ballroom for their fiery tango spread out beyond the reaches of their existence.
Cartman ate a piece of stolen chocolate, winking playfully down at him.
How deliciously subtle.
" What'd you want, fat boy?" Kyle snapped, grabbing his bag of candy and jerking it underneath the table. He allowed the heat to penetrate his words as the venom hardened his every motion. The Nazi was wholly unaffected, for his teasing grin remained poised on his face in the same manner. The fires pierced Kyle's mind with blinding light as his teeth gritted tight.
" It's a free country. I'm allowed to come see whoever I want for whatevah reason I so desire," he casually answered, leaning against the counter. When he leaned forward, Kyle found himself refusing to fall back against his chair. Rather, he stayed frozen in pulsing heat as their mouths hovered inches apart. The honey to those eyes was dark as the moonless night in their sweet delight. The intoxication was damning as Cartman whispered his tauntingly poisoned words, " Maybe I jus' wanted to see you, Kahl. Ever think of that?"
" And if I said I had?"
The fire to those words was obscene. The suggestion was ruthless, but he said them anyways as he felt compelled to do so. The light touch of haunting pleasure which flickered into those topaz orbs was frightening to the Jew. He wished to draw away, to resist. He didn't move as Cartman moved a fraction of an inch closer, closer to him, closer to his mouth, closer to the flames. When he spoke, however, he did not address the wickedly obvious admittance.
" I'd tell you to share," Cartman cooed innocently, his fingers moving through the heat to twirl about a shockingly red curl. His movements were painful in their jest. His touch, though, was anything but, as he caressed the tangles of blood, " You can't possibly eat all that by yourself,"
" I'm not planning on eating it all today. It's my stash for the whole week," Kyle idly told him in a low voice as he eased forward into the gentle twisting of his single lock of hair. The Nazi's smile then ensnared him, for it was a crescendo all its own. The rise and fall to their dance ceased momentarily as the inferno encased all the words spoken posthaste to the Jew's meek attempt at idle conversation.
" Won't you share some with me?"
The jolt of shocking fire which rushed through Kyle's mind was desperately infuriating in its wholly unforeseen implications. An invitation was to be expected, and he had been so entrenched in ember sugar as to answer, but this was too far, too fast. The tempo was startling as his hands were grabbed, as his body spun about in a glowingly scarlet dance floor lost beyond the times, to the hands of forever. His steps went unsurely as that man looked down at him, smiled at him a sweet smile tainted by the engorgement of intents impure. The struggle the Jew was so used to vanished as the music of the mayhem struck cord after cord to every rising word, rising the flames in a spiral which bore no sense of control. There was no stopping it, the inferno threatening their fragile existence described as it were.
Yet, Kyle resisted. He drew in a cold, shallow breath which licked along the back of his throat in a long, melting stroke. His eyes widened in their horror as the ice of the fire blanched his expression to a mute desire. He was presented a grin which touched his very mind with the grip that guided him through the waltz. He tried his best to return the previous jest to the conversation. He tried, where in he failed, and he knew he would fail as he lowered his eyes steadily to the rolling curve of his counterpart's waist.
" Trust me, Cartman, the last thing you need is more chocolate," Kyle tried for joking, but his voice fell short of the laughter needed to truly puncture the heat. Rather, his voice was flat, hollow, a shaking expression of the trembling running over his slender form. There was a bit of edge, of course, for he was desperate to throw off the fingertips of fire gracing his pale, flushed flesh. Yet, his attempt was the vainest of them all, as Cartman merely twirled that perilously held curl tighter about his finger. Every twist was a rush within the scared Jew staring in awful fear up into the depths of sugary death watching him so passionately.
" Don't be so cruel, Kahl. You're hurtin' my feelings," the Nazi answered evenly, his voice never matching the burning sensation turning within their fast held dance across the proverbial ballroom. Drawing those infamous curls closer, though, he tugged on his chosen lock and finally conceded to the tempo. The poison to his death sentence was beautiful in its luscious colors of the match as they smoothed delicately about Kyle's blood, " Not even a little taste?"
Such scorching sugar was a horrifying reveal of topaz and emerald ardor.
" You already had a taste," the Jew weakly protested, his hands raising up and gripping the wrist of the hand touching his curls. His fingers burned into the flesh in their tight grip, although there was nothing to be done to deter Eric now. He leaned into the treacherous pulse of heat and he moved so deliberately that Kyle was impressed into stillness. Thus, they were poised only a fragment of an inch from the other's mouth. Every breath was drawn together in the twisting twirling of the white hot waltz within the reaches of oblivion.
" I bet you taste just as good,"
Kyle tasted those sweet words as he eased open his mouth. He could almost taste those lips over his own, almost taste Eric in his sweetness so toxic. The inferno shattered as the music crashed into a halting tremor while their eyes met in the midst of the firestorm eating away reality. Instead of moving into the hands of blushing sweet sugar, the Jew allowed his shivers to overthrow the heat. He withdrew his hand from his deliciously wonderful dance partner with a tremendous amount of effort.
" I bet you'll never know," he whispered, slowly, drawing out every word in the same way in which he withdrew his lingering fingers. His head tilted to the side, away from the wrist he released suddenly, coldly. The fire between their worlds was too severe to ignore, yet he drew away step by hesitant step even as his eyes were drawn forward and into those topaz orbs, " Will you?"
For all the motions of avoidance he cast, the Jew was not capable of wholly pulling back. The embers infused in the shivers of his blood and his hand moved from its cast away position at his side. He bit down on his lips, to suppress the words dancing harder, faster, hotter with every single second he stood there, refusing to speak. His body spoke for him, in all of the hardness to his eternally burning eyes of cut jewels to the softness of his caressing hand which found Eric within the revel of fire. His fingertips rested on the curve of his counterpart's stomach, feeling the fabric of such a graphically loud shirt in the mutest of manners. The touch of those eyes on his face, however, moved his fingers up. He touched along the arch to that girth, to the chest where that heart pulsed, to the throat which spoke the melted sugar words that overthrew his mind in a white hot flurry. A cry built within his mouth, touched his tongue, and Kyle nearly collapsed into the fire as he tried to repress it. He did all that he could as he pressed his palm to the hollow of Eric's throat, his thumb against his neck, his fingers gracing the silk of his lovely hair. Into those eyes, he gazed, ensnared, trapped, and captured by the light of heaven in them. Fear, however, caused Kyle to ease that beautiful godsend of a Nazi backwards a fraction of an inch.
When the Jew spoke, he broke the dance and swallowed the heat.
" Now what's the real reason you're here?"
The look which quickly overthrew that previously sweet gaze was a hard, murderous stare of darkly honey eyes. Cartman frowned venomously while he allowed his hand to drop away from those bloodied locks. Kyle felt a stabbing jolt deep within as soon as his curl bounced back into his cheek. Churning in utter discomfort at the shocking cold, then, he removed his quivering hand from his rival's throat. His fingers slowly fell away, his hand turning so he might run his knuckles over that bulging middle. Then his hand touched the counter and the frost there bit into his fingers. The heat was fully removed when Cartman stood back to his full over six foot height in vile boredom unbefitting him.
" Well, you're in no mood," the Nazi muttered vaguely, casting a penetrating gaze elsewhere as if he couldn't bear to look at the Jew. Rolling his eyes in that professional arch, however, he returned his stare to the idly shaking Kyle. He gave an absentmindedly shrug before thumbing off towards the aisles of liquor to the side. When he spoke, he managed to gather his voice into a normal, rolling accent that never alluded to their previous dance, " I got twenty bucks. What can I get?"
" Nothing," Kyle curtly responded, his timbre short and stern. The fire within was compressed into a tight, little ball of licking flames. He suppressed it until he could speak plainly, as which time he narrowed his green eyes up at the frustrated looking Nazi to whom he owed years of headaches and screaming matches.
" What?"
" You're fifteen. You can't legally drink," he calmly informed him without the slightest touch of humor. Cartman gave a halting laugh, flitting his wrist in the other's direction. He was very good at looking completely unaffected. Years of knowing him, though, enabled Kyle to see the marks of agitation. Namely, in the manner in which he addressed him.
" I know that, stupid. That's why I'm asking you what I can get," Cartman sneered, pointing at Kyle's empty face. There was a touch of true anger to what he said. Still, his expression was of the jesting nature. He was ready to believe this was some extended game of push and shove, even when they both knew it wasn't. The redhead could already sense that about the nature to the brunette's words. Nevertheless, he played along for a second longer.
" And the answer is: nothing!" the Jew playfully exclaimed, making an face and everything for full effect. Cartman ignored him by acknowledging the gesture with a hand one of his very own. Kyle merely ate a piece of chocolate as he motioned to the vast expanse of the other's waistline, " Why don't you go buy a pack of cigarettes? I hear smoking kills your appetite,"
The both of them presented fake smiles to the other at that sediment. Slowly, though, Kyle unwrapped another piece of candy and placed it on his tongue. His rival gave him a new glare of darker intentions, watching his every move with precision. With the smallest hint at a sly grin, Cartman leaned back against the counter, pressing his hands down on its top. The appeal was impressive, for his size truly dominated the Jew's entire line of sight. Having no choice, and no unwillingness towards doing so, he poised his shimmering emeralds on those sugar sweet orbs leering down at him.
" Maybe you should give it a try too, then," the Nazi suggested, his smile overtaking the serious mention to his words. There was a certain flare within the Jew which sparked his blood and drew a growl from the depths of his throat. For all his attempts to reign in and restrain his fire, he felt it rushing through his veins with burning vengeance.
" And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Kyle spat out, slamming his fists down onto the countertop hard enough to rattle the catalogs scattered about it. Cartman snickered under his breath, his head shaking idly while the redhead ate another piece; mostly out of spite.
" Oh, nothin'. Jus'. . ." Cartman cooed, rolling his hand over in the air in the direction of Kyle's lower half. When the honey of his eyes smoothed over his legs, all the cooing curled itself into a twirling spiral of embers. The smoldering heat washed over Kyle's flesh unexpectedly as he was handed a precise and poised invitation which needed an answer. Every word thus spoken was spoken to the pulsing flames trapped in his racing heart, " You know,"
The taste of sweetness on the Jew's tongue could never match that which touched his flesh. He slowly, thoughtfully, chewed the chocolate. There was a moment when he considered shrieking at the obviously placed insult, the subtly coy request to continue their devilishly wonderful waltz. Then, without his consent, his hands were moving his hair back. Those curls fluffed and jumped excitedly as he rose to his feet. The sudden increase in height hindered the intimidation of Cartman's position in the same way it rendered their previous engagement familiar. Their mouths hovered only a breath apart. The encasing fire swept back Kyle's inhibitions as he was lost to the whims of his own delusions of the stretch of gilded heaven. His hands were caught up and he was stepping lightly over the burning floors for one more waltz in the spiraling control of the tempo of before. He couldn't bring himself to resist this man's charm. Those topazes hurt in ways he couldn't imagine in the impassioned scorch of his soul as he surrendered once more to the invitation wholeheartedly.
" No, I don't know," Kyle whispered, removing a piece of chocolate from the bag held in one hand. He unwrapped it with purposeful slowness, before holding its melting goodness in his hand. Gazing up into the hungry, expectant eyes, he took another inch, gathered himself another fraction as his head tilted, " Why don't you explain it to me?"
Tauntingly, grinning through the damning flames, Kyle pushed the chocolate into Eric's mouth. His fingertips lingered on those tender lips before he withdrew them with a steady motion. The music slammed into the swirls of flame as he declined the inch. The space between them grew as the Jew carefully took his seat with a castaway smile directed at the dance partner gracefully bowing him to his place of resign. His counterpart grinned at him, eating the offered sweet. The fire ran its burning touch about the redhead's flesh, yet he continued to shake off the white out with an upturned sneer at the other.
" Ooooh, you're bad. Very, very bad," he breathed out, moving one hand from the counter with a single sweep. He gave the Jew's cheek a tiny, flirty pinch with the gentlest touch ever permitted by the hands of the Lord in all of the known universe. There was a jolt which jerked through the blood, the flesh, the soul of Kyle in that slight notion of the emotion beginning to surface in those sugar sweet eyes. Worse, still, were the condemning words of that man with his topaz jewels and intoxication. They trickled over Kyle's skin like a long forgotten whispered word of longing, " But I like that about you, Kahl. I always have,"
Captivated by those words, Kyle tilted his cheek into Eric's hand. The smile he gave him was a precious rarity in its honest affection. Yet, he felt the rising of the embers inside his pounding heart. As before, he resisted the enthralling appeal to this Nazi even as his smile retained its warmth.
" Go away, Cartman," Kyle airily stated, moving his cheek from the soft touch of the other. He moved his gaze from the disapproval shown to grab up the candy bag he continued to hide under the counter. This time, though, he dropped it onto the countertop. In a true gesture of goodwill, he pushed it over to Cartman with a slight head inclination to suggest he take what he wanted. The Nazi didn't confirm the offer verbally. He just took a piece and ate it as he shook his head in the Jew's direction.
" Not until you lemme buy some booze," Cartman told him, successfully removing all remaining heat from the conversation. Kyle allowed the withdraw. Frightened as he was by the allusion, he retreated into the confines of a casual argument quickly. Thus, he wagged his finger at that full face.
" The answer's no. The last thing you need is booze in your system. You liquored up is a scary thing," he reminded him coldly, tapping his fingers on the open pages of the catalog in front of him. Cartman merely snickered at the reminder, putting one hand on his hip like the diva he certainly could behave as. The Nazi puckered his lips mockingly, popping them like he did when he was sucking on lollipops and torturing whomever didn't have one. Somehow, doing so made Kyle immediately envious in a stroke of fire.
" Then I guess I'm not leavin' any time soon," the brunette jeered, holding his hands out at his wide sides. There was a flex of the fire stretching within Kyle's stomach. He felt his blood shivering as he inhaled sharply. Sensing the fall of the tempo coming upon him, the Jew hissed out the only threat he thought might actually win him a moment of freedom from the dance. He needed time to breathe, he could feel that, or else. He didn't even know what might happen should he be ensnared by the sugar again.
He might just say it. But no. He couldn't. He couldn't say it.
" Oh, you're leaving. If I have to call the police to get you to do it," Kyle said instead, jabbing a finger at the door. He knew the threat was an empty shell of a real threat. He also knew that Cartman knew it too. Regardless, the Nazi held up his palms in a form of nonchalant surrender.
" Whatevah you say, Kahl. Whatevah you say,"
" Here," the Jew picked up the bag of chocolate and casually handed the whole thing to Cartman. Presenting him with a quizzical look, the Nazi nevertheless accepted the bag. The heaviness to that gaze made the flames uncurl another few inches, adding to the heat of the already bubbling blood. Taking in a hot breath that burned his throat, Kyle inclined his head towards the candy, " Consider it a consolation prize. Go nuts,"
" I'd rather have booze," the other curtly stated without a hint of anger to his whole persona. The deviant touch to the smile which eased over Kyle's lips was as perverse as it was uncontrollable. Possessed from his mouth came words of an invitation towards the fire jumping to grab at his self restraint. His words pooled from his tainted tongue in burning turns of the screw within his white hot mind. The entrapment stole his body so profoundly, even Cartman appeared to be surprised.
" I'd argue that," he began as his timbre dropped down into the whispers of seduction. The embers trickling through those words were smoldering in their repressed heat. In their sudden revel, they did not tread gingerly. They snatched up the hands of their counterpart and engulfed him with the flames of courtship in their smooth lines of harshly warm breathes, " I think you'd rather have the chocolate,"
A present of the most delicious smile was granted in favor of the invitation. Eric moved in closer so that his cheek brushed lightly against Kyle's. A hand moved to touch the curls, twisting them about his fingertips until his fingers were deeply tangled within the bloody mess. Only then did he pull on them with the lightest, hottest touch. He used those curls to guide the Jew's head to the side, into the embrace of his hand caught up in the silk curls. To him, only him, Eric whispered his admittance in the chosen manner. His words were sugar in their sweetness, fire in their fierceness, but never mind. They were beautiful when they gripped Kyle from his stunned emeralds to his desperate soul.
" Maybe I'd rather have you,"
The words stayed poised in the air, forever, as Eric withdrew his fingers from those curls. He smoothed his fingers over the burning cheek of the Jew in deliberate motions. Then, grinning in his usually jeering manner of heated implications, he patted Kyle's cheek. He once more drew up to his full height, leaving Kyle sinking, stunned, into the back of his chair.
" I'll be back. You can count on that, Jew,"
With that assurance, Cartman tilted his head in regards to the shell shocked Jew and turned on his heel. Waving over his shoulder, he left the Liquor Stone with his consolation prize in tow. The sounds of his boots on the tile echoed out before the door shut behind him and he was gone. The exit was as abrupt as the entrance, yet didn't relieve the pressure of the lingering touch of the flames. Shaking in their fading absence, however, Kyle slumped forward so that his forehead was pressed firmly into the countertop. He gripped his arms, desperate to stop the smile which continually attempted to push aside the horror dripping down his spine in thick streaks.
For several moments, Kyle was unsuccessful. The still of the store, though, allowed him to finally calm himself enough to gather his scattered composure. He thus fell to taking slow, even breaths as he listened to the hum of the coolers and the infrequent mummer that reminded him that he wasn't entirely alone yet. Within a few moments, he then resolved to listening to two sets of footsteps approaching the counter and schoolgirl giggling echoing out in the quiet. There was a clink of liquor bottles on the counter. Slowly, Kyle looked up and got a glimpse of the smiling faces of the arm in arm duo, Stan and Kenny. Stan's smile was mildly apologetic whereas Kenny's was ecstatically pure.
" Here, dude, " the activist greeted him, waving one hand to the side. He then motioned to the array of hard and soft liquor ranging from a bottle of cheap wine to gold tequila, " We'd like to get these,"
" We're gonna get torn up an' FUCKED up!" the pervert declared, pumping his fist in the air with great enthusiasm for the idea. Stan cast his boyfriend a longingly sweet half smile which never reached his eyes, which were, nevertheless, glowing in the light of their union a few days ago. Kyle, however, just stared up at the couple with a muted bored expression. He couldn't rid his voice fast enough of the sarcasm to his emeralds, no matter how he tried, which, admittedly, wasn't rather hard.
" That's fantastic," he sneered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. Doing so required more energy then he wanted to use, but it was necessary to ring up the liquor. Groaning, the Jew began to swipe all the pretty glass bottles. After bagging them and everything, he pushed the total button on his register and read the final price tag out to his best friend, " Total comes to twenty four thirty six,"
" Pay the man, Stan," Kenny happily ordered as he gathered up the bags full of the liquor meant mostly for him. He grabbed it all up and then twisted about in his dirty sneakers. He swept on out the door with a snickering laugh of joyous intention for later that evening, although his glance backwards at the backside of his boyfriend inclined those intentions more towards the bedroom then the bottle. Stan smiled as he observed this display of loving lust before he weakly held out the thirty dollars the Jew had just given him. Kyle didn't need clarification for the action, though he asked for it anyways.
" Lemme guess, you need to borrow more money,"
" Kinda, yeah,"
" Don't let this become a regular habit, Stan," the Jew warned, giving him a decidedly indifferent look. Still, he took out his wallet from his hidden bag. Again, he fished out another thirty dollars and again, he held it out in the same manner that the Nazi held out money; between his index and middle fingers, " Keep it up and you're gonna become a mooch. And you know what happens to mooches in South Park,"
" Yeah, I know," Stan absentmindedly nodded without a trace of concern to his voice nor to his appearance. Kyle arched an eyebrow at him while a cruel smile unfolded over his lips.
" Don't let Cartman find out," Kyle plainly stated. His statement was acknowledged with a somber nod on the part of the activist. As the Jew was opening his mouth to remind him of what could happen should that certain Nazi discover it, Stan cut up short with his usual halting manner of speaking.
" Yeah," he shortly expressed, his eyes averting the cold gaze of the Jew. Shrugging, he returned his aquamarine eyes to those of emerald to take the money. He pocketed it with a offhanded gesture in the way which Kenny had gone, " But it's hard to say no to him,"
" Aw. Puppy love," the Jew cooed mockingly, faking pouty lips and eyes. Grinning, Kyle reached over the counter and patted his friend teasingly on the shoulder to a classic eye roll of frustrated annoyance in all the subtlety usually associated with the activist, " He's going to eat you alive,"
To that, there was only one response Stan could offer. He gave a defeated sigh, a solemn nod, an absentminded shrug, and a gentle smile all within seconds of one another. Kyle couldn't help but smile at the truly love struck glow to those normally empty eyes of the honestly happy Stan Marsh. For that and only that, Kyle said not another word concerning the two's relationship. He just nodded as the activist waved halfhearted and started for the door. A step or two later, though, he glanced back, his eyebrows arching and a hand pointing at the counter in what might have been mild interest.
" Hey, where'd your chocolate go?"
Kyle looked at him with a visual attempt at begging him not to ask. Slowly, though, his emerald gaze lowered to the counter covered in catalogs. There was a moment of flashback, where in he relived the inferno waltz around and around the sugar words of the Nazi who haunted him. Every thought brought a rush to his body in a gripping of the aftermath. A flush moved over his cheek as his fingers clenched and his body shivered from loose curls to toes.
" Let's just say . . .it went to a good cause," he barely breathed out, addressing the counter as he did so. In the most deliberate of manners, he peered up at the bewildered, yet stunned, face of the brunette. Stan watched him shiver, watched him grip his arms, watched him smile that perverse smile of eternal delight, and he knew better then to broach the subject. He might have even known to whom that smile was reserved after all these years.
" Uh. . .okay. . .Bye," Stan finally muttered, waving yet again before he finally left the store. Kyle leaned against the back of his chair as he heard a loud exclamation outside. Through the sliver of glass not blocked by signs and posters, he saw the happy couple embrace as they headed off towards their version of suburban pleasure.
Left alone to his own devices, Kyle fell to looking at the catalog for more prices on wine. A few minutes had to pass before the shaking eventually melted down to nothing and he was able to fully feel calm. Either way, he firmly decided that the moment Bubba returned from the bait shop, he was going to launch a plan to get out of the Liquor Stone early. The last thing Kyle Broflovski wanted was to be sitting behind that counter when Eric Cartman fulfilled his promise and returned. If he saw him again, if he was reintroduced to those flames again, he just didn't know what would happen.
Walking home from the Liquor Stone at ten in the evening, Kyle felt both thrilled and nervous. Thrilled, of course, for having succeeded at scraping two hours off his prison sentence to that particular night's enslavement. Nervous, though, for it was ten at night and he was walking on the edge of a dirt road near a lake where a bunch of rednecks drank until they were too drunk to remember not to get back into those trucks. Thus, he walked briskly and quickly over the dirt road, frequently checking for speeding trucks weaving all over said road. Every time he heard a car driving by, Kyle felt his heart skip and his body plunge into the icy cold chill of upcoming death. Deciding this not to be worth it, he vaguely wondered how badly he would have to complain to be allowed to drive his mother's car out to the store.
Figuring it to be worth it no matter how much of a protest it would be, Kyle stepped onto the sidewalk of the main stretch of houses on which he lived. His last fleeting thought concerned his hours at his job, and desire to shift them around some more. Then, he was faced with the one person he had hoped to avoid by leaving early. Instead of ducking to the other side of the street, though, the Jew continued walking down that particular side as he saw that Nazi heading towards him. Cartman spotted him in the dim light of the street lights and he waved once he did. They strolled up to one another until they stopped less then a foot apart just outside the outer ring of a lamp.
Kyle was forced to look nearly a foot upwards to meet the gaze of the other. Cartman was dressed up for a night either out on the downtown scene or the red light corner, depending on how one took his outfit. Since he was wearing a lovely blood red dress that sparkled whenever he shifted his hips and a cropped leather jacket, he certainly looked the part of either role. The heels on his feet, however, indicated a whole other purpose. They were three inch high stilettos that spoke of a pretty, lost child looking for love in all the wrong places. Tapping those toes, painted such a pretty black, Cartman grinned happily down at the Jew which continued to stare at those shoes. He wasn't at all surprised to see the Nazi in such a get up, for Cartman was a renown drag queen who, for all intents and purposes, dressed much better than any of the actual women in town. However, those shoes, they captivated Kyle for a reason beyond his realm of comprehension.
" Nice shoes," the Jew lightly said, pointing down at them. Cartman's smile grew that much more pleased as he shifted his weight and tilted one shoe to the side so that its heel could be seen. A flare of fire burst through Kyle's blood in a shocking jolt that had nothing to do with the words being spoken. For the moment, the actions alone were enough to draw the flames to the surface.
" Thanks. They're new,"
" Are they red? I can't tell," Kyle muttered, grabbing hold of the other's wrist with both his hands. He tugged the Nazi back a few feet into the circle of light pooling down from the streetlight. Looking down, he saw that they were the same shimmering red of the dress his counterpart was dolled up in. A gentle smile found its way over the redhead's mouth, " Oh, they're lovely,"
" Duh. They're mine. I have good taste," Cartman arrogantly stated, grinning and running a hand through his flyaway, yet still perfectly in place, hair. Kyle felt his eyes rolling long before he even realized he didn't remember doing so. Nevertheless, he frowned momentarily.
" Your modesty is breathtaking," Kyle mumbled, his eyes turning away in the sheer frustration of the statement. He released the Nazi's wrist, letting his hands fall away to his sides in distaste while his gaze moved back to the other. Cartman continued to grin, completely unaffected. Instead, he pointed at Kyle in mild amusement.
" Shouldn't you be at work?" he asked as if he already knew the answer to the question. The Jew responded much in the same way, even mimicking the pointing gesture at that made up face with black shadow and red gloss.
" Shouldn't you be in bed?"
" It's ten," Cartman replied blandly, glancing at his wrist even though neither of them ever wore a watch. The habit was innate for the freaky four, however, so Kyle wasn't at all surprised. Rather, he shrugged and shifted his bag from one shoulder to the next. The shimmer of that dress was nearly distracting him, for the fires were licking along the base of his skull in a mutely teasing fashion.
" Yeah, but I figured you'd be in bed, eating your weight in candy and reading comic books," the Jew jeered, jabbing a finger at the weight of his rival's formidable frame. His attempt to remain within the confines of a casual conversation fell on deaf ears. Cartman merely gave a halting laugh, covering his lips in a mock feminine way. The sugar of those darkly honey eyes was stunning in their poison. More so, in their ability to sparkle without the light of the day. Moonless night that it was, Kyle felt himself drawn into their shine, his fires eating through his resist. It seemed, though, that Cartman had intended from the start to pick up where they had left off.
" Oh, no, Kahl. It's time to party. I can eat my weight in sweet chocolate some other time. But, for now," he paused in the flush heat of the moment, his smile drawing closer the more he leaned down. Slowly, gently, he tilted Kyle's head up by the chin with a solitary finger. There was a moment, one pulsing thrust of a moment, when the Jew believed he would kiss him, just once. He even drew in the tainted breath in expectation, staring into those eyes, " I'm goin' to do what I do best,"
" Which is?"
The words rolled off his tongue in a burning sensation that felt so wonderful to utter. He extended his hand, his gloved hand with the emerald stone embroider, to the man with topaz eyes in hopes he would accept the dance invitation. The way Eric leaned over him, closer still, his lips a breath away, he believed he would take him to the dance floor for an inferno. Beyond his mind's eye, however, he saw that man bowing down with a faint, somber shake of his head. The cold shock of the turn away was the most heartbreaking notion of them all. The way in which Eric told him so, though, was somehow worse.
" Makin' people want what they can't have,"
" You're very good at that," the Jew breathed out in a constricted throat burning with the kiss he didn't get. His body shivered as his hands moved up to grip his upper arms in an impassioned embrace. Deliberately, he nodded and moved his head away while Cartman leaned away from him steadily. Regardless, the Nazi grinned through the roaring fires of rejection and winked that playful way.
" Don't worry, Kahl. I'll always save the last dance for you," Cartman promised, reaching over and running a finger over his tossed about curls. Kyle smacked his hand back in vain, for he continued to stroke his bloody hair. Licking his scorching lips so vile, the Jew gazed up at that pretty face with a hot stare of emeralds cut from the hardest stone.
" Who says I'll be waiting?" he questioned in a voice which fell dramatically away from his own. He felt the fire jerking away to leave him with a wholly new sensation he had only felt one time before. Then, he had been a child and he had been exposed to such a empty burning without restraint. Then, he did his best to close his mouth and turn away. As he had then, he was possessed in the worse ways. Every emotion left his face in slow intervals while Cartman grinned and tugged on his hair. The shadows prevented him from seeing the blank look of death which crossed the Jew's fair features.
" I guess we'll jus' have to wait and see, won't we?" the Nazi calmly said, his eyes warm with the question he wasn't asking. Kyle vaguely nodded, his mind falling away to the empty heat which swirled about his hands, his eyes, his words. In a stroke of fire, his emeralds dropped down to his innocently smiling rival's waist. In a scorching explosion that utterly washed away all control, he was wholly possessed and the words came from another world entirely. He had never meant to say them as his hand raised to point at that weight while his accusation spilled from his poisoned tongue.
" How much do you weigh?"
" What?" Cartman sternly demanded, his eyes darkening in a hurry as his hand jerked back as if struck physically. His tone was strict enough to usually warrant a quick apology and retreat. With the new mindset, though, Kyle found himself looking up into those callous eyes without an emotion to his entire form outside of the dull ache in his chest.
" How much do you weigh?" he repeated plainly, his hand falling away. It became painfully obvious that Cartman was taken back by the question, for the rage normally reserved for others crossed into his topaz orbs and into his words. Nothing, though, could shake the lingering pulse of agonizing fire which had so fiercely taken hold of the Jew.
" Uh, yeah, that's really none of your business, you good for nothin' Jew," the Nazi barked, crossing his arms over his curved stomach. Kyle felt his eyes widen in their possession as he actually moved in closer to the creature that looked ready to strike him to the ground.
" No, really, I want to know. How much do you weigh?" he asked in a detached voice as his eyes expanded in what he could only assume was one of his wildest looks. The darkness to those orbs grew sharper as Cartman took several steps away from the approaching Jew. Rather, he slipped out the circle of light, rubbing his cherry red nails over the sleeves of his leather jacket. Dismissively, he waved Kyle off while he headed around him.
" Fuck off,"
There was not a touch of jest in those words whatsoever.
" You should consider a diet. For your own good," Kyle airily expressed, turning after him and watching as the Nazi stopped walking. Cartman twisted to face the Jew with not an emotion on his face other than the sugar death in his icy honey stare. Kyle cast him a forlorn look which was as painful to give as to receive. Slowly, though, the hurt cut through the heat as the Jew gripped his shirt in an offhanded attempt to gather control back. All he was given in return was a hateful look of distain and a curt statement alluding to their lovely afternoon waltz.
" You sure know how to kill a good time,"
" Just be careful, Eric,"
His voice hinted at his true feelings as he turned away and walked deliberately away from the topaz gaze watching him leave. Kyle merely hugged himself in the cold return of his body, heading home in the darkest hour of the evening so far. Behind him, he heard the somber, lonely clicks of heels heading steadily in the opposing direction. The sound was agonizingly cold.