A/N: Again this story took longer to update than I would have liked, but I'm still optimistic that I can finish it by the end of May, barring any further unexpected distractions. Thank you again to all who have given me feedback and encouragement - I always enjoy hearing from you guys, and particularly when it's a story that involves multiple pairings, because the reactions are so different and varied. I'm glad that I finally gave my Stan vs. Cartman for Kyle story urges a shot, and that I went with this AU for the setting. Three more chapters after this, then an epilogue. Here's hoping that I can get back onto my usual chapter-a-week schedule.
On the morning of the hike with Stan, Kyle gets up early so he can slip into the bathroom before the others and try to do something with his hair. He should have let his mother trim it before he left for camp. When she'd offered he only grumbled a vague refusal, too humiliated by the fact that he would soon be shipped off to fat camp to endure the more regular humiliation of having his mother cut his hair for him. She's the only person in South Park who knows how to do so without ruining it. His trips to what passes for 'salons' there have all been complete disasters, and his mother refuses to drive him to Denver to get his hair cut when she can do it herself for free.
Kyle stands in front of the bathroom mirror feeling awkward, and suddenly very gay. It's not just that he's reflecting on his traumatic hair experiences and worrying about looking good for Stan during the hike. He held a boy's hand last night, for real. People saw. He's always thought of himself as a kind of subtle, possibly even butch gay kid. The fact that he's fat seemed to support this, because he tends to assume that gay guys - real gay guys - are vain about their appearance. But he is a real gay guy, or nearly one, and he's a little afraid to face another day where this is true, though he's also fidgety with excitement and eager to find out what will happen next.
After he's made himself as presentable as possible he returns to the dark room where the other boys are still sleeping. He's dressing for the hike when he hears Eric grunt, his mattress squeaking as he rolls over.
"Where are you sneaking off to?" Eric asks.
"Nowhere." Kyle doesn't appreciate the accusatory tone, or the implication that it would be Eric's business if he was going someplace. He wants to continue poking at the thing between him and Eric to see what might spring out of it, but not if he can't do so on his own terms. "I just woke up early."
"Oh, shit, we have that fucking hike today, don't we?"
"It'll be good. I mean-" Kyle turns to look at Eric. He's sitting up in bed, hugging his elbows, his hair flattened on one side. "It's better than running," Kyle says.
"Yeah, right." Eric throws his blankets away, and Kyle's eyes go directly to Eric's crotch. He's got morning wood, his boxers tented over it. Kyle is happy to see that his erect bulge is neither too huge nor too small, and he flicks his eyes back up to Eric's face when he catches himself thinking this. Eric is grinning, looking very pleased. "Shall I present it?" he asks, lowering his voice. "For further inspection? In the bathroom, perhaps?"
"God - no! Wendy will be here any minute with her stupid lantern." Actually, he's expecting Stan to walk through the door, since he's leading the hike. The last thing Kyle wants is for Stan to find him groping Eric's cock in the bathroom, though he supposes that would make them even. "Cool it," he says when Eric goes on grinning at him, the pup tent in his boxers still on display.
"Cool it? Really? Who says that?"
"My mom," Kyle says miserably, realizing he sounds like her. "Just - go beat off or something, get that thing out of here."
"Ooh-hoo, yeah, I'm gonna beat off alright. Do I have permission to think of you?"
"Like you really think you need it."
"You're right, I don't." Eric seems to falter then, lingering in bed like he doesn't want to waddle to the bathroom in view of Kyle, his dick leading the way. Kyle busies himself with lacing his sneakers and tries not to listen too closely to the sounds from within the bathroom, though he's curious. It sounds like Eric just pees, flushes, and returns to the room without washing his hands or beating off, unless he was so close that it only took one squeeze.
Kyle was right: it's Stan who comes to the door twenty minutes later, just as dawn is beginning to break. He speaks quietly and allows Clyde to take his time with getting dressed. Kyle doesn't know what to do with himself, suddenly in the presence of both Stan and Eric, and in such close quarters. He hovers near the window, pretending to study the map of the hills that Stan passed to him.
"Wendy's getting your packs ready," Stan says. "We're gonna do breakfast in Coyote Canyon before we hike back."
"In the sense that we're going to be breakfast for coyotes?" Eric says.
"Nah, they sleep during the day, and anyway they'd be scared off by ten people headed in their direction, making a ruckus."
"A ruckus," Eric says, muttering. Kyle refuses to look at him, aware that he's attempting to make fun of Stan.
"So it's kind of a long hike?" Kyle says, nervous about his ability to endure this without turning into a sweaty, puffy, sunburned thing.
"It's about two hours total," Stan says.
"Two hours!" Clyde looks up from his sneakers, which he'd been lethargically lacing, and gapes incredulously at Stan, then at Kyle, perhaps only because Kyle is standing beside him with the map.
"So basically it's a death march," Eric says. "Cool, that's great."
"It's a slow hike." Stan looks at Kyle uncertainly. "We'll take breaks to look at wildflowers and stuff. I, uh, brought a flora and fauna guide." He sets down his pack and digs it out. Butters skips forward to take it from him when no one else budges.
"Oh boy," Butters says, opening the book. "Look at all the different kinds of lizards!"
"I don't like lizards," Clyde says.
"You don't like anything," Kyle says. "I like lizards," he says, speaking to Stan.
"They're cute," Stan says. Eric scoffs in judgment and Kyle ignores him. He doesn't want to be cruel, but he won't participate in making fun of Stan or this hike. It's going to be great, maybe.
They walk across the path to pick up the girls, who are all dressed for the hike. Henrietta is wearing full makeup and carrying her black umbrella. Wendy is with them, and she hands each of the boys a pine green Mackey-logo backpack.
"Are you guys excited?" she asks, and her voice seems too loud against the backdrop of the quiet desert morning. "This is about more than exercise," she says before even Butters can respond affirmatively. "Stan shares my view that spiritual wellness can manifest as physical health, and especially when we live in humble awe of our natural world. That's what this hike he's designed for you guys is all about. Right?" she prompts, looking to Stan, who is standing among the boys as if he's one of the campers.
"Yep, right," he says. "That's - hey, but we have to do Kyle's medicine first, so?"
"Of course," Wendy says, waving him off. "You two go on. I'm going to give everyone the safety basics overview at the trail head - fill Kyle in and meet us there?"
"You got it." Stan touches Kyle's shoulder and he practically leaps away from the group to escape the secondhand embarrassment that he felt during Wendy's speech about humble awe. They walk in silence for a while, gritty sand crunching under their sneakers on the trail. Kyle partly wants to tell Stan about his adventure on the golf course last night, but he supposes it would seem very lame compared to Stan's trysts with Craig.
"Does Wendy always talk like that?" Kyle asks.
"No. Just when she's trying to sound teacher-y. She took leadership courses over the summer, when were growing up. It was this camp thing."
"You didn't go with her?"
"God, no, no way. I needed my summers to myself. Not that, uh, not that going to camp isn't awesome, though, too. For you guys."
"Having summer to myself is so depressing," Kyle says, feeling confessional. He wouldn't mind doing the hike with just Stan, talking like this the whole time. "I mean, I bet you did stuff with friends, and went to the pool, and drove to the ocean and all that. I mostly sit in my room and play video games, same as during the school year."
"Well, maybe that'll change. I think you're going to like this hike. Though part of the safety stuff I'm supposed to be telling you is that you should never hike alone."
"So much for that then."
"You don't think you could make friends at home?"
"I mean, I could." Kyle groans at the thought of the boys who would be willing to spend time with him: the absolute dregs of his hick town's nerd society. "But not the kind of friends I want. Not like you," he adds, mumbling this.
"You mean a gay friend?" Stan asks, and Kyle laughs.
"That's not what I meant. But yeah! I mean, that would be awesome." Again he considers mentioning Eric and their shared gayness, but if he does confide in Stan it probably shouldn't be right before the hike, when Eric will likely be rude to Stan. "I just want a friend who isn't trying to be cool all the time," Kyle says. "Someone who just is cool, like you, or not cool at all, like me, but just not fake, either way."
"Hey, listen." Stan stops walking and takes Kyle by the shoulders. "I want you to know - and I'm surprised you haven't figured this out, but - I'm not cool at all." He breaks into a grin after a couple of seconds of allowing Kyle to stare back at him very seriously. Kyle snorts and steps out of his grip, trying not to smile too widely.
"You've got friends," Kyle says. "And a tan. You're cool, sorry."
"I feel like it doesn't do me any good, I guess," Stan says. "Whatever, uh, positive qualities I have? It's like they were designed to make someone else feel proud, not me. Shit, never mind - let's hurry up. Race you there?"
"Fuck you!" Kyle says, laughing, because that's so unfair, but he bolts for the nurse's station when Stan does, and they're both laughing by the time they get there. Kyle appreciates that Stan doesn't let him win or even slow down much. Stan couldn't be fake if he tried. Kyle thinks of Eric and his many defensive fronts, but there's something so raw about him, despite all that. He's real in his own way, the kind of obnoxious but close friend Kyle could have back in the real world, if they lived in the same town. Or maybe they would be boyfriends, in secret, in basements and backseats. The thought is still alarming, even in the context of camp. Kyle enjoys being adored, but a boyfriend has certain responsibilities, such as not being infatuated with someone else.
"I kinda feel like I'm gonna puke," Stan says while Kyle does his injection.
"Why?" Kyle looks up, searching Stan's face. He doesn't seem hungover today. "Is it my stomach fat?" he asks, only half-joking, still holding his roll of flub while the insulin absorbs into it.
"No! My gut's just all twisty. Wendy wants me to lead the hike. She'll probably take over. Maybe I should let her."
"No, you should lead." Kyle pulls down his shirt and hands Stan the supplies, meeting his eyes to show him that he's serious. "You're better at this than her, really. She tries too hard. It's alienating."
"Huh. Never thought of it that way." Stan smiles a little and nods. "Yeah, thanks. I'll give it a shot."
"Just don't let the comments from the peanut gallery get to you. They whine a lot. Especially the boys."
They return to the others, Kyle already wondering if he'll be teased for re-applying his sunscreen when they stop for breakfast. The sun isn't up fully yet, but the pale purple glow around the hills has given way to creeping light, and the heat is picking up already. Kyle hangs back when Stan takes the lead at the start of the trail, keeping a respectful distance now that Stan is leading everyone around, not just him.
"Keep your eyes on the brush as we head toward the hills," Stan says. "You'll see lizards scampering, and look - there's a jackrabbit up ahead. Lots of those guys out at this hour!"
"Do they eat the lizards?" Tammy asks.
"Nah, they're herbivores. Jackrabbits eat grass and flowers, sometimes even twigs. We won't see many wildflowers until we get to the hills. They're really pretty, but please don't pick them - the jackrabbits and other critters need them to survive."
"Is this bitch for real?" Eric mutters, suddenly at Kyle's side.
"Yes," Kyle says. He jabs Eric with his elbow. "Don't be so negative."
"Oh, sorry. I forgot, I'm supposed to be in spiritual awe of some bushes and sand."
"Dude, I know, it's dorky, but at least we're not at home alone in our basements for once, you know?"
"I'd rather have you in my basement than go marching through the desert," Eric says. "If you know what I'm saying."
"Stop asking if I know what you're saying! I always know what you're saying, because it's always the same thing, and it's always involving your dick."
"So? I have needs, Kyle. I'm a man. When you're sixteen maybe you'll understand."
"Ugh," Kyle says, trying not to laugh and not even sure if Eric is attempting to be funny. "Be quiet. Look at the lizards."
"Lizards," Eric says, and he scoffs.
"If you're a good sport," Kyle says, lowering his voice, not at all sure he should say this, "I'll be nice to you later. If you know what I'm saying."
They exchange a look, and some of Kyle's doubt evaporates when he sees Eric's eyes widen. He seems so consistently taken off guard by every bone Kyle throws him that Kyle can't manage to be very scared about what making these promises might mean.
The rocky hills around the camp slope gently, but Kyle is quickly winded as they begin their ascent, and Eric is worse off, sweating profusely at his side. Kyle tries to pay attention to Stan's remarks about wildflowers and animal life as the hike goes on, but he doesn't really care about the details, just finds Stan's interest in the subject charmingly sweet. He zones out instead, overheated and wondering how he might show Eric his appreciation later, in the shade of their cabin. He might not have to do anything more than lie back and let Eric suck his dick, but somehow even that seems like something above his skill level. He tries to pay attention to his surroundings in an appropriately awestruck way, but it's mostly just rocks and sand, and the patches of wildflowers are cute, but Kyle had expected swaths of them covering the hills in a blanket of rainbow colors. The ones they pass are mostly white and yellow, sort of weed-like.
Kyle is very relieved when they reach Coyote Canyon and sit down to eat lunch, both because his legs are aching and because the part of the canyon where they've stopped is shaded by the rocky wall behind them. He sits beside Eric on a long, flat rock shelf and gulps from the second water bottle that was packed into his bag. He finished the first one on the way up.
"You guys are doing awesome," Stan says while they dig through their bags for their breakfast. "We've already gone two miles."
"So that means two more miles on the way out?" Clyde says miserably. For all his complaining, he doesn't seem to be faring too badly: his cheeks are pink and he's moist-looking, but not drenched like Eric or breathless like Kyle.
"That's right," Wendy says, stepping in when Stan hesitates. "And the great thing about this hike is that the remaining two miles are on a down slope! You guys have already done the hard part. So enjoy your breakfast and your sense of accomplishment. I find that always makes food taste more delicious." She takes a seat on a smooth boulder after saying so and pats it when Stan looks at her. Kyle is jealous when he sits beside her, close, and the two begin talking quietly together.
"Goddamn granola," Eric says. He tears open the package from his pack with a grunt and drinks half of it down, a few bits falling from the corner of his mouth and landing on the sleeve of his t-shirt. "I need real food."
"There's dried fruit," Kyle says, pawing through his own breakfast bag. "Juice, and - eugh, a wheat bagel. Oh, shit. And a fucking banana."
"Worst breakfast ever," Eric says. "They'd better feed us something resembling actual sustenance for lunch."
"Do you want this?" Kyle asks glumly, poking Eric's shoulder with the banana.
"I guess," Eric says. "You don't like them?" He smiles, and Kyle rolls his eyes, knowing what he'll say next. "I was under the impression that you were fond of bananas."
"No, you must be thinking of cocks," Kyle says. Eric doesn't seem to know how to respond to that other than to gape at Kyle in a quasi-impressed way, which was Kyle's intention. He notices Rebecca looking at them and shrugs when he realizes she's overheard his comment about preferring cocks to bananas. "You should have come out with us last night," he says when she moves to sit closer to them.
"I have a very precise sleep schedule," she says. "It's important to me."
"Well, we had fun," Kyle says, though it was more like they just kind of sat around until coyotes scared them off. He's not sure what was fun about it, exactly: the hand-holding? The element of danger? Whatever it was, he'd felt like an actual teenager for once, and not just a kid who hides from them when he can.
"Were you able to find some condoms?" Rebecca asks, and Kyle boggles at her. He holds his finger to his lips and turns to look at Stan and Wendy, but they're preoccupied with their own quiet conversation.
"Whoa, what?" Eric says, leaning across Kyle to look at her. "He's looking for condoms? You're looking for condoms?" He turns to Kyle as he says this, their faces uncomfortably close.
"Shhh!" Kyle says, leaning away. "Both of you, god! Keep it down!"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Rebecca says. "I presumed that Eric knew you wanted some, since you two seem to be an item now."
"That's right," Eric says, before Kyle can protest. "We're hooking up. Condoms and everything. Yep." He seems to be growing nervous with excitement, and Kyle leans further away from the humidity of his too-close body heat.
"How do you even-" Kyle says, stammering. "How did you, uh - why do you think that?"
"Bebe and Tammy were all a-twitter. They said you were doing things." Rebecca sighs and looks up at the sky, which is powder blue now, cloudless and bright. "Everyone's having sex but me," she says. "Just like at home."
"Maybe you can fuck that cafeteria guy," Eric says while Kyle struggles to come up with something reassuring to tell her. "I think he might be a chubby chaser. He's always making eyes at Kyle."
"He is not!" Kyle shudders, thinking of weird Kenny, and he has an idea. If that guy is willing to serve up extra bacon and pizza slices to him for whatever reason, he might be willing to get condoms for Kyle without going through the nurse's station and alerting Stan. Kyle isn't sure why he doesn't want Stan to know about his condom quest; it's embarrassing, mostly, that he's seeking them out with the intention of doing things with Eric. Maybe, possibly. He reminds himself that he can still back out at any time, no matter how well behaved Eric is for the remainder of the hike, and takes a big bite of his dry, cardboard-flavored wheat bagel.
After breakfast they hike back down toward the valley, and Kyle is eager to get there and out of the sun. The heat has intensified and he's tired, his stomach sloshing uncomfortably from all the water he gulped during the first part of the hike and after eating. Eric sticks close by and stays quiet, and just as they're coming to the rocky passageway between the trail and the valley, he takes Kyle's arm and tugs a little.
"What?" Kyle says, not wanting to fall behind. Eric has stopped walking. He smirks and shows Kyle something he was hiding behind his back: a purple wildflower.
"For you," he says, thrusting it at Kyle and still smirking like this is a joke. "I guess some jackrabbit will have to go without his lunch, boo hoo."
"Oh, um. Thanks." Kyle takes the flower, not sure what he's supposed to do with it. For one giddy second he thinks of tucking it behind his ear, but that would be ridiculous. "You shouldn't pick them, though," he says, turning to catch up with the others. Eric has been lagging behind since after the meal, and Kyle has remained companionably close to him, which means he's as far as possible from Stan. Eric grunts and hurries to Kyle's side again.
"I'll pick whatever flowers I want," he says. "This is a free country."
"Not necessarily, when it comes to local plant life. Some species are protected."
"You sound like that Rebecca chick. And that thing isn't protected, Jesus. Those jack ass rabbits can eat something else. That one's yours."
"Um, okay." Kyle puts the flower into the pocket of his shorts, feeling guilty for crushing it, and for being glad that Eric picked it for him.
"So you're looking for condoms, I hear," Eric says.
"Don't ruin the moment."
"Goddammit. You're a tease."
"No, I'm not! Shh. That's strike two."
"Yeah? What happens after strike three?"
"Nothing, that's what. If you get what I'm saying."
"I'm dying here!" Eric says, announcing this a little too loudly and throwing his head back to look up at the sky. "What do you want from me?" he says, more quietly. "I gave you a flower."
"You can't buy me in wildflowers, Eric," Kyle says, enjoying this. "And you can't put these kinds of things on schedule."
"What kind of things?"
"You know - things! Private things. Shh, just stop talking."
At the end of the trail, Kenny is waiting with a cooler full of cold water bottles. Kyle gulps from his, feeling exhausted but also accomplished. He's hiked, now: he's a hiker. Like Stan, who is smiling around at the group as if he's pleased by how well that went, though they didn't see any big horn sheep.
"Let's head back to the cabins for showers," Wendy says. "Then you guys can rest up before lunch. No nutrition class today - we'll serve you lunch in the cafeteria."
"Thank Christ," Eric says. "And it had better be a real lunch."
"All of your meals here are 'real,'" Wendy says. "Especially compared to junk food that's designed to taste good and provide little nutritional value-"
"Okay," Stan says, laying a hand on Wendy's shoulder. "He knows."
Wendy gives Stan a look but leaves it at that. Kyle is proud of him.
"Relax, my friends," Kenny says. "I'm doing honey mustard chicken and zucchini fries. Most delicious."
There's some grumbling amongst the group at the idea of zucchini fries, but to Kyle that meal sounds weirdly perfect. He hurries back to the cabin with the others and claims the first shower, since he'll have to do another injection before their meal. When he's undressing in the bathroom he carefully removes the wilted wildflower from the pocket of his shorts. He hides it inside his toothbrush case before stepping into the shower.
There's some downtime in the cabin that Kyle mostly uses to lie flopped on his bed, offering the occasional rebuttal when Clyde says something stupid. Before lunch he reapplies sunscreen and walks to the nurse's station alone, excited to see Stan and to tell him how well he did as the hiking leader, but the nurse is the only person there to receive him.
"Where's Stan?" Kyle asks, frozen in the middle of the examining room while she gets his supplies.
"On break or on shift, I don't know." She approaches with Kyle's insulin, preparing the syringe as if she's going to administer it herself. He's relieved when she hands it over to him.
"Is he not overseeing my shots anymore?" Kyle asks, feeling abandoned. The nurse shrugs.
"I'm certainly not free to do this four times a day," she says. "They'll get him or one of the other kids to supervise you. All done? Okay, hand it over."
Kyle leaves the nurse's station feeling dazed. Normally the other kids are nearly done with their meal by the time he reaches the cafeteria, but today he arrives just as the others are picking up their trays and filing up to accept their honey mustard chicken and zucchini fries from Kenny.
"That was fast," Eric says, immediately taking a place in line beside Kyle. "Did the hippie have a jackrabbit to breastfeed after you?"
"What - no." Kyle barely hears that, jarred by how rejected he feels. It's stupid; Stan is probably just working elsewhere on the property at the moment. Doing laundry, perhaps. Kyle thinks of sneaking down the hall to the laundry room, a warmth of uncomfortable arousal flooding his dick as he imagines Stan fucking Craig triumphantly, his confidence boosted by that hike, and by Kyle.
"Are you sure you took your diabetes juice?" Eric snaps when Kyle is quiet during the meal, half-listening as Rebecca calmly attempts to convince Clyde that global warming is not a myth. "You're, like, out of it," Eric says, eying Kyle suspiciously when he turns to look at him.
"Just worn out from the hike," Kyle says. "I hope the evening workout is easy." He hopes Stan will lead it, though he doubts that will be the case.
The chicken is good and the zucchini fries are mushy but decent. Kyle lingers over his meal as the others begin to return their trays and head for the game room for free hour. They'll have group therapy later, then evening workout, then dinner. Kyle keeps the corner of his eye on Kenny, who is hosing off trays behind the counter.
"Ready to go back to the cabin?" Eric asks, elbowing Kyle gently. "Butters and Clyde are in the game room."
"I have to run an errand first," Kyle says. "You go - I'll be there as soon as a I can."
"What errand?"
"Nothing - you'll see. It's a surprise, for you."
"Bullshit."
"Why bullshit? Just trust me. You'll like it."
Kyle is actually pretty sure that Eric won't, but he doesn't need to know that yet. He returns his tray and waves to Eric, who is still sitting at the lunch table, looking dejected. Kyle supposes he could enlist Eric's help on this adventure, but he's loud and conspicuous, and sneaking around is required. Kyle slips out of the building and keeps to the shadows out front. It's so hot outside that no one is out, and there's no wind, nothing moving, not even the lizards. Finally, Kyle hears it: the door around the side of the building opening. There are footsteps, and soon Kenny is walking toward the main path, drinking from a carton of orange juice. Something about the thought of drinking orange juice in heat like this makes Kyle feel briefly queasy, and he waits in place until he sees the direction Kenny is headed in. Not the employee parking lot, where Kyle expected to be able to cut him off before he climbed in his car and left the camp until his next shift. Instead, Kenny is heading toward the golf course. Maybe Mackey uses him as a landscaper, too, or maybe he's going to hit some balls during his break. Kyle follows as close as he can without being detected, checking behind him periodically to make sure Eric isn't trailing him.
There's a building at the front of the golf course that used to be the spa restaurant and bar, according to Stan. It's no longer used, most of the windows boarded up, and Kyle watches in confusion as Kenny looks around as if he's the one sneaking about and enters through the unlocked front door. Kyle is across the path, crouched in the shadow of a sizable cactus. He thinks of just giving up and going back to the cabin after all, but Kenny has been permissive so far, and Kyle really wants those condoms. The idea of having a barrier between him and Eric during whatever they're going to do makes the whole thing less scary.
He sneaks up to the front door of the old restaurant and peers into the cloudy windows beside it, keeping low. The windows haven't been washed in a long time and the visibility isn't good, but he can see Kenny's silhouette moving around inside, and he hears the crack of a soda or beer can opening. Kyle wonders if he should knock, then decides that would be stupid. He tries the door knob. It turns, still unlocked.
"Hello?" Kyle calls. It's dusty and very warm in what used to be the restaurant's lobby. The decor is retro, with wood paneling and large white globes that look like they were once lamps. The restaurant itself is sprawling, and the floor to ceiling windows along the back wall look out on the golf course. There's a dark bar with mirrored shelves in the center of what was once the dining room, and Kyle shouts in surprise when Kenny stands up from behind it.
"Oh, it's you, red!" Kenny grins and wipes his brow. "What's up? Welcome to my humble abode."
"You live here?" Kyle walks inside, only taking a few steps and leaving the door open behind him. He smells corn chips and the spicy musk of spray deodorant. "Seriously?"
"For now," Kenny says. He nods and looks around, putting his hands on his narrow hips. "Yeah, they think I commute from outside the valley, but gas is way too expensive, and living with my parents sucks. So I set up camp here. Don't tell anyone, alright?"
"Alright," Kyle says, slowly. "Can't you just room with Stan or something?"
"Nah, I don't get lodging as part of the job like the college kids do. I'm just part time. You want a soda?"
"I can't have soda."
"Oh, right, you're diabetic. Sorry, dude."
"That's not why! I'm on a very strict diet, as you know. Craig would smell it on my breath and nail me to the wall."
"Damn, you're probably right. How about some orange juice? I've been sneaking it from the dining hall."
"Aren't you worried you're gonna get caught and lose your job?"
"Not as worried as I am about getting scurvy, my man."
"Scurvy?" Kyle closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. "You know what, never mind, whatever. I don't care if you live here, that's great, I won't tell anyone. I just wanted to ask you a favor."
"Right on. You want to come through to the back patio? It's too hot to hang out in here during the day."
Kyle follows Kenny through the dining room of the old restaurant, where the chairs and tables have been cleared and stacked against the right wall. Kenny pushes open one of the sliding glass doors that look out on the golf course, and the pristine grass on the rolling hills of the course are a stark contrast to the musty interior of the boarded-up restaurant. Kyle stands at the edge of the patio that runs the length of the restaurant's back wall, bracing himself for the conversation he's about to have with a virtual stranger. He takes a few deep breaths of clean desert air while Kenny sits in a rattan chair with torn cushions and sips from the beer he carried out with him.
"What can I do for you, little man?" he asks.
"Don't call me that," Kyle says. It's a nickname that doesn't exactly set the mood for the request he's about to make. "I'm not little." Kyle looks down at his stomach, which seems slightly less bloated but is still bubbling over the waistband of his track pants. "I'm sixteen," he says, because Kenny probably won't fact check this and find out that he's actually fifteen. "And what I need from you is some condoms."
"Ohh," Kenny says, drawing the word out as if he should have known. "Right, I get ya. Sure, it's summer camp. These things happen. I think you can get them from the nurse's station?"
"That would require going through the nurse," Kyle says. "Or Stan," he says, more quietly. "You, um. You guys are friends?"
"Yeah, Stan's awesome! He's an old soul."
"Sure." Kyle can see that, actually, and he's annoyed that Kenny can, too. "Well, like. I don't want him to know. So don't tell him I came to ask for condoms."
"If you say so, but Stan's no nark, and he's chill as hell when it comes to sex."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle asks, practically shouting. Kenny leans away from him slightly, eyes widening.
"Uh, nothing, dude, just that he's not judgmental about. Things."
"You know about him?" Kyle says, cautiously.
"He's a bisexual stallion," Kenny says, nodding, and Kyle sputters, not quite managing to laugh. "What? He is!"
"Whatever you say." Kyle is thrown by the implication that Stan likes girls, too. Maybe he only gave Kenny that impression to seem cooler. Is it cool to be bisexual? Kyle doesn't even know. "He wasn't there today," Kyle says. "Stan. At the nurse's station, I mean. He usually gives me my injections - or oversees them, anyway."
"I think he's off with Craig," Kenny says. "Since there was no Nutrition class today. That means an extra shift for me, the lunch shift. Normally I'm napping right now."
"Craig - he's with Craig?" Kyle had half expected that, had even allowed himself to vaguely fantasize about it, but it still hurts to hear that Stan ditched him for that asshole. "They're - where?"
"Beats me. I told Stan that guy's a real uptight dildo, and he says he knows it's true, but the heart wants what it wants. Speaking of that - who've you got your eye on? Tammy? She's a cool chick."
"No, just - never mind!" Kyle wants to pummel Kenny for what he said about Stan's heart, as if he know anything about it. "Can I borrow some condoms or not?"
"Borrow?" Kenny says, and he grins. "Nah, but you can have a whole strip. I won't ask for them back after you're done with them."
"You know what I meant."
"You're a real spitfire, red. C'mon, let's get you some condoms. The counselors are probably looking for you. All I got is Magnums, that okay?"
"Sure," Kyle says, though he has no idea what wearing a Magnum entails. He knows they're supposed to be for big cocks, and just touching the foil wrappers feels illicit and exciting when Kenny passes them to him.
"You need tips or anything?" Kenny asks.
"Tips?" Kyle narrows his eyes, then tries to look less disgusted and annoyed with this man who just did him a favor. "No. I know what I'm doing." The lie feels pathetic, but Kenny just nods as if he believes it.
"Hey, I hear ya. I lost mine when I was fourteen. Sex is a beautiful thing. Just make sure you treat her right afterward. You got the whole summer ahead of you, and you don't want a pissed off chick in group therapy with you, believe me."
"Yeah." Kyle looks down at the strip of shiny gold condoms and tries to imagine what camp would be like if Eric was hurt and defensive, out to get him. He doesn't want to hurt Eric, anyway, but what if he does it without meaning to? It's absurd, considering Eric's size and complete insensitivity toward others, but Kyle is worried that Eric is also as fragile as that wildflower that he tucked into his toothbrush case, half-wilted and in danger of being crushed.
It's not very hot, thinking of his potential gay lover this way, and on the walk to the cabin Kyle tries to alter his mood. He's about to have his dick sucked, maybe, and he's considering touching Eric's, but only if he wears a condom. Is it rude to offer a hand job but also insist on a condom? Kyle does need tips, but not from weirdo squatter Kenny. He wishes Stan was in the nurse's station and not off with Craig having sex, or maybe they're having some queermo romantic health food picnic at the palm oasis. There's no telling what two grown gay men might do together. Kyle has his own secret gay life to attend to and forces himself to stop thinking about Stan's. He comes to the front door of the cabin and pats his pocket, feeling the shape of the strip of Magnums inside. Be brave, he thinks. Like Stan. No, not like Stan - like Craig. Cool and slightly detached. Commanding. Yes, that's how he'll do this. He opens the door.
Eric is inside, as he expected, sitting on his bed with his back to Kyle and crinkling something. He turns when Kyle enters, looking slightly feral. He's got something on his mouth.
"Chocolate?" Kyle says when he sees the candy bar in Eric's hand. Eric grunts and takes another bite of the thing. "What the hell are you doing? Eric! Stop! You'll get thrown out."
"Why, you gonna tell on me?"
"No, but. I thought they confiscated your candy bars? Or someone stole them, or something?"
"That was a ruse designed to throw you off their trail. So you wouldn't try to steal them. I've re-hidden them in various strategic locations."
"What the fuck? Like I was really gonna steal your stupid candy!"
"Well, I didn't know you that well then, okay?" Eric stuffs the last of the candy bar in his mouth, and Kyle can hardly stand the sight of him like this: there's an air of ashamed desperation about him, and that chocolate smudge is still at the corner of his lips, making Kyle think of the fat boy in Willy Wonka's factory. "I wasn't sure when you'd be back," Eric says, still chewing.
"You've got to throw those things away. You're sabotaging yourself."
"Yeah, okay, whatever. I need extra calories. You said so, even."
"Not those calories!"
"Enough lecturing! What did you get for me on your little errand? It'd better be good. I've been waiting here forever."
"Forever." Kyle scoffs. "I think it was a relatively short amount of time, considering how expertly I acquired my contraband."
He pulls the condoms out of his back pocket and tosses them on the bed. They land with a wettish splat, and Kyle looks up at Eric's face. He's boggling, and Kyle can't stand it anymore: he crosses the space between them and uses his thumb to wipe the chocolate from the corner of Eric's lips. It feels gross and doesn't really work, some of it smearing onto Eric's cheek.
"Condoms?" Eric says.
"Yep. C'mere." Kyle takes Eric by his wrist and pulls him into the bathroom. He wets a washcloth and wipes Eric's mouth clean properly while Eric continues to gape at him.
"How did you get those?" Eric finally asks.
"I have my resources. You underestimate me." Kyle dabs at the corner of Eric's lips with the dry side of the washcloth, feeling impressive. Eric scoffs a few times.
"We don't actually need condoms," he says. "I'm not, like, diseased. Are you?"
"Of course I'm not! But, well. It's just the thing to do, I'm sorry."
"You want to wear a condom while I suck your dick? Really?"
"Really," Kyle says, though actually he's not sure. Something about that seems gross, though the idea of mouth to cock contact is still freaking him out, too.
"I'm not sucking on a fucking piece of latex! That's disgusting! What - what, you don't believe me? You think I'm hiding a bad case of herpes? Or AIDS? Is that what you think?"
"Hey, calm down." Kyle rests his hands on Eric's chest, which does seem to calm him, though he's still frowning and breathing a little heavily. "I don't think - whatever. I'm just nervous. I thought we could start out with condoms."
"Well, fine, that's great, and if you want to put a condom on my dick and then suck it, go to town. But I'm not sucking on a fucking piece of plastic. That makes the whole thing pointless!"
"I guess we're not doing anything then," Kyle says, and he expects to feel some relief, because he was so nervous before, but it doesn't come. Anger floods him instead, mixing with the resentment that's been simmering since Kenny told him Stan skipped their usual appointment to be with Craig. It might not even be true, but it might as well be. He pushes around Eric and goes back into the bedroom, his vision beginning to blur at the edges. His hands are shaking when he grabs the condoms.
"Do I look like some herpes infested slut?" Eric asks from the bathroom doorway, shouting now. "Huh? What the hell are you afraid of? I'm generous enough to offer—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Kyle shouts, the rage boiling over and spilling out. He throws the condoms down and grabs his pillow, trying to rip the pillowcase in half. It's stronger than it looks, and he settles for tearing it off of the pillow, which is much more delicate and easy to shred. "Stop saying you're fucking generous!" Kyle says, and he flings the pillow away before he can destroy it completely, a few feathers floating in the air when he turns back to Eric. "All you do is push me, prod me, and annoy the shit out of me, and when I get condoms for us you throw a fucking tantrum? Seriously?"
"I'm throwing a tantrum? You're the one going all Wolverine on a pillow!"
"If you don't want to use condoms you can come in your own hand, I don't give a fuck!"
Kyle storms out the front door of the cabin, the rage still tunneling his vision. He jogs away from the cabin, not even sure where he's headed. He's burning with directionless anger, and part of him just wants to give in to it, to embrace the relief of destroying something, but the part that hates losing control won't let him go that far. By the time he reaches the pool he's so hot, inside and out, that he feels like his hair is on fire. There's nobody in the pool, and Kyle is glad, because once he throws himself into the water it might start to boil. He kicks off his shoes, pulls off his shirt and socks, and jumps in feet first, still wearing his track pants.
Underwater, Kyle closes his eyes and lets the relief seep into him. The water soothes over his blistering rage, putting out little fires as it goes, and the silence under the surface helps, too. Kyle has always been good at holding his breath, and he stays under for as long as he can, wanting to linger in this peaceful cocoon of cool quiet. When he surfaces the relief persists, and he takes deep breaths, blinking up at the bright afternoon sky. He counts backward from twenty before trying to reassess what set him off, which is a trick Mackey talked about in group. When the counting is done, he evaluates the issue as calmly as possible, treading water: Eric got mad about the condoms because he's an asshole, but it's more complicated than that. He wants Kyle to trust him, and probably still feels insecure about what he confessed about his mother's boyfriend. Kyle isn't willing to put his own health at risk to boost Eric's confidence, but there might be another way. He floats on his back and paddles around the pool for a while, allowing his calm to solidify. He's still annoyed about Stan not showing up to watch him take his medicine, but that's completely irrational and there's nothing he can do about it. Maybe he can do something, later, about the Eric issue.
Kyle climbs out of the pool when he hears some of the younger kids coming up the walk with Token. He gathers his discarded clothes and slinks away, exiting through the boys' locker room. He's proud of himself, as if he's found a solution to his anger problems, though he knows he can't rely on a swimming pool to be available whenever he needs to come down from a rage. Maybe splashing cold water on his face would work.
Back in the cabin, Eric is gone, and so are the condoms. Kyle puts on dry clothes, not bothering to shower since they'll have another work out before dinner. In the bathroom, he opens his toothbrush case and checks to make sure the little wildflower is still there. It is, and he feels a bit guilty closing it back into hiding.
He doesn't see Eric again until the evening workout, which is yoga at dusk with Wendy. Kyle chooses the mat beside Eric's and isn't surprised when Eric avoids eye contact and doesn't speak to him. The yoga is better than last time; Kyle at least feels better at it, though his legs are still a bit wobbly and tired from the hike. Wendy seems to have chosen an easy routine, and Kyle appreciates it. On the walk back to the cabin Clyde and Butters are chattering about meeting up with the girls again later, and Kyle shrugs when they ask if he'll come, too. Eric is walking ahead of them with Rebecca, and Kyle wonders what they're talking about.
When he goes for his pre-dinner dose of insulin he dreads finding the nurse waiting for him again, but it's Stan who's sitting in the exam room when he gets there. Stan grins and puts away the magazine he was paging through.
"Where were you earlier?" Kyle asks, trying to at least partly conceal his hurt feelings, though it's probably obvious.
"Oh, I had the afternoon off," Stan says. Kyle wilts at the reminder that he's just part of Stan's job, and that Stan is probably relieved when he doesn't have to watch the diabetic kid medicate himself. He accepts his supplies when Stan fetches them and goes to the examining table.
"I have a weird question," Kyle says when he's done with the injection.
"Yeah?"
"Um." Kyle swallows and watches Stan put his supplies away. He's been thinking about this since the pool; he even meditated on it during yoga. He's still not sure it's the right thing to do, but he's too curious to stop himself, more about what Stan's reaction will be than anything. "You have access to our medical files in here, right?"
"They're over there in the nurse's office," Stan says. "That's where I keep your records." He picks up the little notebook that he always jots Kyle's readings and doses into.
"So you've got access to our files?"
"Well, yeah. Why?"
"I need to know something. Everyone had to do blood work as part of their physical before camp, right?"
"Yeah," Stan says, slowly. "What's going on?"
"Something like an STD would be noted in our files if we had one, right?"
"Kyle, what the hell? Are you worried you have one and nobody told you?"
"No! It's about another boy. A boy I'd like to, uh. Do stuff with. I just want to know if it's okay not to use condoms, because—"
"Whoa, dude, hang on." Stan jots his notes into Kyle's data book and snaps it shut. He puts it on the side table near the refrigerated med cabinet and walks to the examining table. Kyle is having a hard time meeting Stan's eyes, and he can feel his face coloring. "Are you being serious?" Stan asks when Kyle finally looks at him.
"Yes."
"Well. Um, you're fifteen. That's kinda young. Really young."
"It's not really young! Really young is like, twelve. How old were you when you were first with a girl?"
"I was about your age," Stan says, mumbling this reluctantly. "But I regretted it. I didn't like it."
"Yeah, because you're gay! I mean, you are gay, right? Not bisexual?"
"Jesus, Kyle, what is going on?"
"Nothing! I just want to do sex things without worrying that my partner has some creepy disease, so—"
"It's that big kid, isn't it?" Stan's eyes harden, and Kyle's heart rate picks up. "Eric?"
"Maybe." Kyle groans; he'll need to be specific if he actually wants Stan to check the file. "Yeah, it's him."
"Kyle – he. I don't think it's a good idea."
"Well, I don't think letting Craig ram you over a laundry machine is a great idea, but that's none of my business, is it?"
"No, but it is my business what you do in this camp! You're underage, and that kid is probably pressuring you—"
"He's not!" Kyle hops down off the table with a grunt and heads for the door. "God, forget it. I guess I'll just fool around with him without condoms and hope for the best."
This idiotic statement works the way Kyle hoped it would: Stan hurries to him and grabs his arm, pulling him back. He looks angry, but also concerned, and he's breathing a bit heavily. Kyle's heart does a sort of excited flutter thing, and his cock does something similar. Stan is standing close, looking down at him intently. He smells like aftershave; Kyle can see a little cut on his cheek where he nicked himself with his razor.
"Stop," Stan says, softly. "Calm down. I'll look at that kid's file if that's what you want. But you haven't even known him for two weeks, and I think you're both too young, and it really doesn't seem like the right time to mess around with your roommate."
"Why, because we're doing fat camp together? What difference does it make? And who cares how long I've known him? I've known you less than two weeks, but you're the first person I came out to. I thought we were, like. Friends, sort of."
"We are." Stan gives Kyle's arm a little squeeze. Kyle wants to grab him and hug him, but he restrains himself. "I like you, dude. That's why I'm concerned."
"Don't be concerned. I know what I'm doing."
"Mhm. Go sit down. I'll get his file. But you can't tell anyone we looked at it, okay? Not even Eric."
"Of course not. I won't. You can trust me."
Stan squeezes Kyle's arm again before sighing and going into the nurse's office. He flicks on the light and pages through the files in a cabinet against the wall. Kyle sits on the exam table again, feeling dazed and giddy. He really wasn't sure this would work, but he should have known. Stan wants to help him so earnestly, however he can, and it makes Kyle's heart ache in the best, worst way.
"You know," Stan says after studying the file for a few minutes. "I could tell you he has pubic lice or something, just to discourage you."
"I bet you're a terrible liar," Kyle says, grinning.
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know. You just seem honest. So he doesn't have anything, is that what you're saying?"
"Only thing listed under medical conditions is that he's high risk for developing Type 2 diabetes." Stan sighs again and closes the file. "But really. Don't rush into anything. Your, uh. Your virginity is a precious gift."
Kyle bursts into laughter, and it feels good, like the fluttering feeling that's been traveling between his heart and his dick is being released into the air.
"Do you seriously believe that?" he asks, still laughing.
"Yes!" Stan says, looking so serious that Kyle laughs harder.
"Sorry," he says, and he slides off the exam table when Stan goes back into the nurse's office to put Eric's file away. "It's just – I know what you mean, but I want to try stuff. You know?"
"Of course I know," Stan says, keeping his back to Kyle at the filing cabinet. "But from where I'm standing fifteen seems way too young, even if I didn't think so when I was your age."
"Well. Thanks for looking that up for me. I feel better now."
"Great." Stan closes the filing cabinet and groans. "I feel like I need a drink."
"Oh, um. Sorry."
"It's not just you, it's – whatever, it's fine. I'll walk you to dinner."
They walk to the main building together in silence, but it's a comfortable quiet. Kyle looks up at the stars, remembering how he felt on the golf course, sitting so close to Eric and holding his hand. It was if he'd been imbued with a fleeting but important power, and he feels it now, too, with Stan. It's not the same, but it's similar. He feels valued, cared for, like someone whose virginity is an actual precious gift.
"Did you hang out with Craig today?" Kyle asks just before they reach the main building. Stan shakes his head.
"He was working."
"Oh. But you guys are still—?"
"I don't know what we're doing." Stan stops walking and gives Kyle a worried look that makes him feel terribly guilty. "It's complicated. You'll see what I mean if you fool around with that kid."
"It's not the same," Kyle says. He waves his hand dismissively, which makes him feel very gay, then surprisingly okay with that.
"Don't forget I'm here for you," Stan says. He opens the door to the main building, holding it for Kyle. "If you want to talk about anything."
"Sure." Kyle considers confiding in Stan about whatever he's going to do with Eric, but the idea is unsettling, as if he'd betray both of them by doing so. He goes into the dining room, where the other kids have already tucked into their dinners. Stan takes a seat with Wendy and Token, and Kyle approaches Kenny warily at the counter.
"My man," Kenny says. "How'd it go?"
"It hasn't – gone, yet," Kyle says, frowning. "And please don't ask me."
"Gotcha. Private stuff, sure, that's cool. You want extra salsa on your tacos?"
"No! Please, just give me whatever portion Craig approved."
"A man of principles," Kenny says, nodding. "I respect that." Kyle waits until he's turned his back on Kenny to roll his eyes. He goes to the table his group always occupies and takes his usual seat beside Eric, who at least deigns to look at him.
"Are they really not going to weigh us until the end?" Bebe is saying, looking distressed. "I can't find a scale anywhere in this place."
"I think this experience is designed more as a lifestyle alteration than a competition based on who is dropping pounds the quickest," Rebecca says. Kyle can't tell if she sounds bitter or not, but there is something slightly sharper than usual in her tone.
"I feel lighter," Tammy says. "Do ya'll?"
"Sure!" Butters says. "And real healthy. I'd be okay with living here for the rest of high school, truth be told."
"Jesus," Clyde says. "If that's true, your home life must be miserable."
"Well," Butters says, and he pokes at some stray salsa with his fork. "That'd be a real ungrateful way to put it."
Kyle tunes them out and finishes his tacos quickly. When he's done, he cleans his hands with his napkin and touches Eric's thigh under the table. It's a light touch, but he can feel Eric tense up in surprise. They look at each other and Kyle smiles a little.
"Don't," Eric mutters under his breath, and Kyle takes his hand away, hurt. He turns to the counselor table. Only Token remains, playing with his phone. Stan and Wendy are gone.
Back at the cabin, Kyle gets ready for bed and considers pitching the wildflower into the trash where Eric will see it, but he can't bring himself to discard the sweet little thing. He's glad when Butters and Clyde spring out of bed to get the door when the girls come knocking again.
"You guys coming?" Butters whispers. Eric says nothing, slumped under his blankets. He's been faking sleep since lights out. Kyle sits up and shakes his head.
"Too tired," he says. "Have fun, and be careful."
"You too," Clyde says, and Kyle hears Tammy snicker. He listens to the receding footsteps outside as Clyde and Butters sneak off with the girls. He looks over at Eric, surprised to see him sitting up in bed.
"You're seriously mad at me for wanting to use condoms?" Kyle says. Eric shrugs.
"Just seems dumb," he says. "I'm not some disease-riddled whore just because I've had – experience. I fucking swear, okay?"
"I know. I mean, I believe you. At dinner, though. Why'd you get all pissed when I touched your leg?"
"I didn't get all pissed! I just didn't want a boner in the fucking dining hall, Jesus."
"You were getting a boner from that?"
Eric doesn't answer. Kyle throws his blankets off and leans back against the headboard, spreading his legs a little. Eric's eyes are darting from Kyle's face to his crotch and back again. Kyle's heart starts to pound, and he reaches down to run his fingertips over the insides of his thighs suggestively, his cock getting hard as Eric watches. Kyle is wearing boxers and his Mackey t-shirt, his nipples hardening underneath it.
"Still want to suck my cock?" Kyle asks, trying to sound seductive and not too shaky-voiced. He can hear Eric swallow heavily.
"Gonna wear a condom?"
"Nah," Kyle says. "Seems like it would feel better without one. What'd you do with the condoms, anyway?"
"Hid them."
"From me?"
"No, from the fucking counselors! Are you going to tell me how you got them?"
"Maybe. Look, let's make a deal."
"Oh, Jesus Christ." Eric groans and scrubs his hands over his face. "You're going to drive me out of my mind before I can put my fucking mouth on your dick. That's your plan, isn't it?"
"No. I just want to propose something."
"Fuck. Well, propose away."
"If you get rid of all your candy bars, I might return the favor."
"Might – what, suck my cock?"
"Maybe. But you have to throw away your stash, in the dumpster out behind the main building."
"Why do you care?" Eric asks, eyes narrowing.
"I just do. I want you to, you know. Do your best. And lose some actual weight so that you don't crush me in bed."
"I can get in bed with you?" Eric says, pushing his blankets away. He's hard, too. It's obvious even through his baggy sweatpants.
"I just asked you to suck my dick," Kyle says, deadpan. "So, yeah. You'd better come get in my bed."
Eric scoots to the edge of his mattress and stands unsteadily, rubbing his hands on his sweatpants as if to dry sweaty palms. Kyle keeps his eyes locked on Eric's as he comes to the bed. He can feel Eric trembling when he sits, and still can't believe anyone wants him this much. In the moonlight through the windows he can appreciate Eric's handsomer features: cute nose, big eyes that are strangely sweet when he's overwhelmed like this, and plump lips that look like they'll feel very good around Kyle's cock. Kyle touches himself through his boxers, running his fingers over the shape of his hard dick, and Eric does a breathy whimper thing that makes Kyle harder.
"Can I, um?" Eric says, blinking at Kyle uncertainly.
"Yeah." Kyle lets his thighs fall open wider, his knees coming to rest on the mattress. Eric takes a deep breath and moves closer, crawling to him on all fours, the bed creaking under their combined weight. Kyle had thought Eric was asking permission to touch his dick, but now Eric's face is hovering over his, his toothpaste-scented breath warm on Kyle's lips as he brings his eyes shyly up to Kyle's, asking permission again. Kyle gives it by pushing his face up to Eric's, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Eric's tentatively. His first kiss. They're both breathing hard now, and Kyle can feel Eric's eyelashes on his cheek when they kiss again. Kyle feels floaty and nervous, pressing his tongue out a little when Eric licks his mouth. Eric is so fucking big, and his arms and legs are shaking as he holds himself up over Kyle, who is still a little worried about being crushed. He moans when the kiss deepens, taken off guard by how good this feels. He hadn't expected Eric to want to kiss him, and had assumed it would be a wet mess if he tried. It is wet, but also warm and surprisingly exciting, renewed arousal jolting through Kyle's erection every time their tongues slide together.
"Do it," Kyle whispers, because Eric seems to be stalling, and Kyle isn't sure how much longer he'll be able to hold himself up, the whole mattress tremoring when Eric's limbs shake harder, either from exhaustion or nerves. Eric pulls back and snorts.
"Begging for it," he says, and he touches Kyle's cheek with tenderness that embarrasses him. "Alright. Take your boxers off."
Kyle does, glad that it's dark in the room and that Eric will understand why he wants to leave his t-shirt on. Eric moans and sits back to stare at Kyle's dick. Kyle fondles it self-consciously, feeling overheated.
"Fluffy red pubes," Eric says. "Just as I suspected."
"They're not fluffy!"
"Can I, uh? Feel them?"
"No!" Kyle isn't sure why he doesn't want this; he just doesn't. "Could you suck my dick?" he says, feeling ridiculous. "I mean, if you still want to."
"Yeah," Eric says, and then he's touching it, squeezing. Kyle groans and throws his head back, a wave of heat surging from his balls up to his throat. For a moment he's certain he'll come. Eric's hand is sort of huge and very soft, hot, and moving slowly on his dick, pumping him. Kyle digs a tooth into his bottom lip, trying to keep the dizzying need to spill himself at bay.
"Fuck," he breathes out, chest heaving under his t-shirt. He looks down at Eric again. "God, yeah, please—"
"Shut up, I'm doing it."
Kyle groans as he watches Eric lower his head, and cries out at the first pass of Eric's tongue across the head of his dick. He's so close already, throbbing. He whimpers when Eric suckles at his cockhead. The feeling is unreal, so much better than touching himself, so much better than anything. Kyle puts his hand in Eric's hair as he takes more of Kyle's cock into his mouth, wet heat enveloping him. Kyle is whispering a steady stream of curse words, going out of his mind. His balls are tightening, hips twitching. When Eric moans around his dick he comes with a shout, his orgasm ripped from him by what feels like supernatural forces. It's so different with someone else, scary good, like his pleasure is being stolen from him, taken in handfuls. He's shivering as he comes down from it, panting.
"Eric," he says, without meaning to. Then they're kissing again, and Kyle is the one with a wet, messy mouth. He groans when he feels the lower half of Eric's weight drop down onto his legs, and he rubs his thigh up against Eric's dick when he feels it there, hard and hot through his sweatpants. Eric whines when he comes, drooling onto Kyle's cheek, which is gross but also kind of cute. He slumps over onto his side, still twitching, his eyes closed until Kyle rolls against him and presses his face to Eric's cheek. Eric's skin is hot, almost sticky. He must be sweltering in those sweatpants.
"You – you mean it?" Eric says. He looks sleepy; Kyle is going to have to gently usher him back to his own bed before the others return, though apparently they all assume this is going on anyway.
"Mean what?" Kyle asks, though he can guess. He yawns, very tired himself.
"If I get rid of the candy you'll return the favor?"
"Sure, yeah. Tomorrow, even. But I have to come with you to the dumpster. To verify the transaction."
"You're such a little asshole," Eric says, and Kyle snorts. He closes his eyes and tries not to smile when Eric kisses him all over his face. It's a losing battle; he's beaming, eyes still closed.
"I'm not an asshole," Kyle says. "I care about you."
Eric makes a soft sound, some half-formed word that dies at the back of his throat. He presses his forehead to Kyle's, his eyes cast downward.
"You just want me to look all hot so you can show me off," he says.
"Well. You object?"
Eric grunts and kisses him, and Kyle allows it for a while before pulling back. He runs his hand through Eric's sweaty hair and wonders if this is how Stan feels with Craig. Outside of this bed, later, things might be weird. But here he feels elated and adored, and he wants it again, already. He knows now, all summer long, he won't be able to resist.