Title: Irresistible
Author: Athena2693
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kyle is bored with his relationship with Stan and needs a little passion in his life
A/N: So only one person cares if I bother to continue? Oh well, I'm sure I'll probably be bored after this chapter anyway.
He never meant to cheat on Stan. In fact, if the Kyle of ten years ago had heard somebody suggest such a thing he probably would've given them a good sock in the nose. Kyle Broflovski was an upstanding gentleman with strict moral values; he would never betray someone he loved.
And if he loved anyone, it was Stan Marsh.
Stan was the perfect boyfriend. He was extremely good looking, even tempered, athletic, intelligent, charismatic, and successful. Really, he was more than a scrawny, nerdy, daywalking Jew could ever hope or ask for.
"So why do I keep doing this," Kyle murmured to himself as he washed the sweat and other bodily fluids from his body.
These episodes always left him feeling dirty and guilty. After the twenty minutes of satiation and bliss that followed faded, anyway.
He hadn't been cheating on Stan that long, really, only a year or so. Kyle wondered, if perhaps, it was just the newness of it all that appealed to him. Maybe he'd get used to it and no longer be turned on by the rough treatment, sooner or later. Or maybe it'd just get worse. Maybe he'd turn into one of those freaks who can only get off by having car batteries attached to their nipples.
He couldn't recall if sex with Stan had still excited him after the first year. When did he stop craving it? When did it become a burden?
Had he really ever enjoyed it as much as he did with Christophe? He must've, at least his first time, right?
He had certainly enjoyed his first time with Christophe. It had been at one of Stan's co-worker's holiday party. The Mole was the last person he had expected to run into, and he had certainly never expected to end up in bed with him that night. Christophe had waited until late in the evening to make his move, after Stan had already consumed one too many cups of spiked holiday punch and was snoring on the couch with his head leaning back and his mouth wide open.
Sometimes, when needing help to get himself off when making love with Stan, he thought about that night. Christophe grabbing him by the wrist, dragging him into the co-worker's daughter's empty bedroom. She was away visiting her mother's family, the man had mentioned when he offered her bed to anybody needing a place to sleep off the booze. Kyle had fought of course, with every tooth and nail, but Christophe had been much too strong for him and everybody who wasn't passed out were outside in the hot tub. Besides, Kyle was half drunk himself. Christophe had whispered some dirty words in his ear, half of them in French, but Kyle had got the idea. Something about having watched him all night, and what a little whore he was, showing off his tight little ass to everyone when they had been playing Cranium.
Usually after drinking more than a couple beers Kyle found it extremely difficult to maintain an erection, but something about Christophe was like an aphrodisiac. No matter how unsexy Kyle felt, Christophe made him feel like a porn star who had just swallowed an entire bottle of viagara.
Technically, that night had probably counted as rape. Kyle had legitimately tried to fight him off and even when Christophe had shoved his dick into him Kyle had been screaming and hitting him. That first time Christophe had taken him face to face, so he could hold him down and cover his mouth better, if need be. It had taken a good ten minutes of being fucked into the mattress before Kyle gave up and just went for the ride. And it had been good. Oh so good. The slowed libido from the alcohol made him last for what seemed forever and Christophe, though not drunk whatsoever, had refused to cum until Kyle did.
Afterwards, Christophe wiped the tears from Kyle's cheeks and asked when they could meet up again.
Kyle didn't know why he didn't just tell Stan about it in the morning. Confess he had been raped. Was it because he was ashamed that Christophe made him cum? It hadn't been his fault. Not that first time. He had tried to fight him off. He had. So why didn't he tell Stan?
Maybe it was just the thrill of actually cheating, the fear of being caught, that was the attraction? If that was it though why did he always feel so horrible after?
Often, he'd come home and spend a good hour in the shower, much longer than he really needed to remove any evidence from his illicit encounter. Some evidence did not fade so easily. Bruises, mostly, but occasionally a scratch or bite. Stan never mentioned them and Kyle wondered if he never noticed them, or just assumed he was the cause of them himself. Maybe he thought Kyle was that fragile he could hurt himself that badly just be bumping into a door jam or scratching an itchy spot.
He certainly treated Kyle as if he were that fragile. And in there lay the problem. He wasn't that fragile. He didn't need to be handled like some grandmother's antique china. If he pushed him onto the bed once in awhile his bones wouldn't shatter. If he gave him a hard slap across the rump now and again his skin wouldn't split. He was just as much a young man as Stan. Maybe he didn't have the same broad shoulders or bulging calf muscles, but he was still lean and strong and capable of taking care of himself in a fist fight if need be.
"That was the last time," Kyle swore to himself, leaning his forehead against the shower's marbled side, for maybe the twentieth time, perhaps the hundredth, and he knew deep down he was just lying to himself. He'd go back. He always did. Christophe was just…he was irresistible. He was like an addiction. No matter how many times Kyle told himself that it was no good for him, that he had to give it up, he always gave in.
In a way, cheating was the loneliest thing he had ever done. It must be easier for girls. When they find themselves cheating on their boyfriends or husbands, they just tell their best friend about it, and their best friend tells them they're stupid cheating whores and guilt trip them into stopping. But Kyle's best friend was the one being cheated on. If he told Stan what he was doing he'd receive more than a tongue lashing and a guilt trip.
"Kyle." He heard a distant voice from downstairs. It sounded like it was drifting up the steps, as if somebody were either walking up the stairs or calling up them. "Are you home? Where are you?"
"I'm in the bathroom," he called back, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. "I'll be right out."
"Hard day at work," Stan asked as he opened the bathroom door, releasing a cloud of steam into the hallway.
He was holding a bouquet of flowers. Of course he was, it was Friday. He always brought Kyle home something on Friday, flowers or chocolate or wine or another stuffed animal to add to his collection which barely fit into the spare bedroom's closet as it was. Kyle didn't have the heart to tell him to stop bringing him stupid stuffed animals. On their first date together, back in tenth grade, Stan had won him a stuffed pug at some cheap carnival game. It had become a tradition. He remembered fondly the Friday when Stan came home one day with a wriggling pocket full of Sunshine, a pug puppy much smaller than the stuffed animal Stan had once won him.
Sunshine was probably dozing in her favorite spot on the back porch at the moment. She was born deaf and never noticed when her owners came or left if they weren't in sight.
"Not especially, just glad the weekend is finally here," Kyle replied. He grabbed a towel and began drying his hair. "Did you want to go out for dinner?"
"If you want. I'm kind of tired though, would you be okay ordering in?"
"That's fine, you can pick where. I didn't feel like doing any dishes so I didn't cook anything."
Stan set the flowers down on the sink and walked over to Kyle, giving him an affectionate hug. He didn't appear to care that Kyle was soping wet and he just soaked the front of his shirt. After all these years Stan was still so loving and attentive.
'He's so good to me,' Kyle thought to himself with a half-hearted return of the hug, 'Too bad I hate him.'
'He's so good to me, I love him more than anything,' Kyle thought to himself an hour later. They were laying on the couch playing video games, greasy paper plates smeared with congealed pizza cheese on the floor in front of them. Kyle's head was resting against Stan's arm where he laid against him, and Sunshine was curled up in the space between Kyle's legs and the couch.
"I love you," he said aloud, turning to give Stan a chaste kiss on the cheek.
"Love you to," Stan replied, keeping his eyes on the game.
Kyle preferred to be affectionate towards his boyfriend when he was distracted. If they were alone in bed or just watching a movie Stan might start touching him, maybe rubbing his thigh or trying to get a hand up his shirt. Whenever he did such a thing Kyle attempted to distract him, take his mind off sex, but it only worked half the time.
He loved Stan, he truly did. He also hated him. He was resentful towards him. It wasn't Kyle's fault he was having an affair behind Stan's back. He had expressed his wishes with Stan before, many times in fact. Red faced confessions whispered in the dark afterwards, when Stan asked how it was. Maybe a half-lie that it was good but could he maybe, perhaps, next time, could Stan give him a little spanking? Or maybe pull his hair a little? Or some dirty talk? Or even put his hands around his throat, ! He just, you know, was curious.
And maybe, once or twice after, Stan would give him a gentle slap to his butt, barely felt through his boxers, or would call him a dirty whore. But within a week he was back to his romantic, gentle self, stroking Kyle's hair and kissing him tenderly on the shoulders as he took him from behind, after a half hour or more of foreplay. He would be so controlled and slow, as if he wasn't in a rush, as if it wasn't something he needed desperately and now. Like he didn't even need Kyle. Like their lovemaking was just something that had to be done, like the dishes or laundry. It left Kyle feeling unwanted and unfulfilled. He no longer received any satisfaction from it.
It wasn't like you could stop in the middle of sex and be like "Okay, now you pretend to be the creepy rapist who just entered the bedroom and I'll be the virginal boy from the swim team." Asking to be ravished totally defeated the purpose of it. It killed the mood.
And besides, Stan just did not get it.
Even when he tried to fulfill Kyle's wishes and go along with his weird little fetishes, you could tell he didn't get any enjoyment out of it. He didn't look intense with concentration or smirk with satisfaction when Kyle cried out or wiggled across his lap.
But Christophe…Christophe got it. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he just genuinely enjoyed hurting the tiny Jew. That was totally possible. He might've been a genuine sadist.
Either way, it was the best sex that Kyle ever had.
Though considering Stan had been his first, and only until Christophe came along, that wasn't saying much.
Maybe Stan was just a shitty lover?
"Do you want to go to bed," Stan asked, noticing the little tent in Kyle's boxers, just the mere thought of Christophe being enough to get a reaction from him.
No, he certainly did not. He couldn't imagine anything more annoying and tedious.
"Not tonight," he shrugged off the obvious invitation. "I feel drained from work. I just want to chill on the couch."
"Okay," Stan agreed, putting off the inevitable. Kyle knew, sooner or later, he'd have to give in and go to bed with Stan. He'd have to put up with a half hour, or possibly longer, of Stan initiating foreplay, where at best he only managed a rubbery half-erection. And when Stan took him he'd close his eyes and pretend it was Christophe and try to imagine what filthy words would come from the Frenchman's lips. Even then, his orgasm would be barely pleasurable, too forced and not nearly sudden enough. Kyle called them hiccup orgasms. Where they were there, but it seemed like after an inconveniently long time they were just starting, and suddenly they were over, like it had suddenly came to a halt.
Really, it was all Stan's fault. He deserved to be cheated on. First he hadn't been there to save him from Christophe, and then he wasn't doing his part to keep Kyle satisfied. It was all Stan's fault.