"Wow" Cartman said breathlessly, his voice hoarse, still blinking away the constellations away from his vision "That was fucking amazing..."
Kyle's head was resting on his chest as they found themselves once again in Kyle's bed, the sheets tangled limply around them, shivering and sweating as heat seemed to sting and pour off the both of them.
Kyle nodded, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face as Eric's cries and moans still rung in his head, as did the memory of Eric's head between Kyle's legs as Kyle guided his mouth into giving him an exquisite blowjob.
It was a surprisingly warm (yet damp) Tuesday when Cartman and Kyle met up again. Forgoing his usual walk home from school, Cartman decided to catch the bus to Denver instead. When he arrived at Kyle's door, they lingered hesitantly as even a simple 'hi' was too much to even think, let alone speak. But with an impatient, knowing smile, Kyle pulled Cartman in and wrapped himself in his arms.
"After Saturday, I couldn't wait to see you again..." Kyle admitted, finally feeling safe to as he littered more kisses on Cartman's heaving chest.
"Me neither" Cartman grinned, running a quivering hand through his damp hair as he tried to catch his breath. However, his grin faltered and he chewed on his lip thoughtfully as he pondered if what he wanted to say next was such a good idea. "I wanted to come over yesterday, but I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?" Kyle asked, sliding his warm hand up Cartman's neck and propping himself up on his shoulders so he could easily make eye contact.
"It's nothing" Cartman muttered, shaking his head. Sighing exasperatedly when he realized that Kyle wouldn't let this go.
"No" Kyle frowned, concerned, kissing Cartman's nose "I wanna know..."
"I think you care way too much" Cartman remarked, ruffling Kyle's curls.
"Maybe I do" Kyle answered confidently, while Cartman was both scared and touched in his own stubbornly cold way.
"Just tell me" Kyle soothed, trying to fill the silence which was clearly Cartman's attempt at stalling.
"Fine" Cartman mumbled before clearing his throat and directing his gaze to the ceiling, since that was Hell of a lot easier than making eye contact. And he suddenly felt like he was back at Sunday school, in the cold basement with its harsh lights and over-sized bulbs trying to make the place more homey, getting ready for his first confession. Thankfully, the confession box was heated and smelt comforting, like pine. It reminded Cartman of long car drives. Of Nebraska. Of Christmas trips, not summer vacations away from his mess of a mom. Cartman couldn't remember what his first confession was, accept that he felt the whole thing was idiotic and he could remember kicking the space beneath him as his legs dangled from the bench, his feet not yet touching the floor. "I don't know how it started, well, maybe I do but I just haven't figured it out yet, but, I have a lot of anxiety. It's nothing, except a lot of the time it feels like something. Like, I dunno, I'm not gonna explain it to you, because I guess you don't wanna know and it's not that interesting but it's why I decided to not come over yesterday... And it's why I didn't admit to myself for a long time that I was gay, it's why I lied to you about how old I am, it's why I had a panic attack when I came home on Saturday, it's why I almost bolted from that coffee shop when I was standing in line trying to decide what muffins I wanted when really I wanted neither because they were overpriced and they looked gross and it's why I still can't believe that you're attracted to me. So, yeah, it's basically everything I do, everyday. So I guess it's not nothing, huh?"
Kyle shakes his head, expressionless except for his eyes that feel heavy with all the words he could say. He can't help but feel Eric's hammering heart fighting against him. And that breaks Kyle a little. Because it sounded too painfully familiar.
"Have you talked to somebody about it?" Kyle asked sadly, tucking some of Eric's hair behind his ear "Like, your mom, maybe?"
Cartman shifts uncomfortably at the mention of her, because it's at times like these when thinking of her is difficult. Because all he can see is her life, their life before Nebraska. Cookie dough on her apron and affection in her laugh, how she at least tried to cover up her sordid affairs and habits by ushering her clients out the door before he could see them and making sure she never left any needles and baggies of coke around the house. Out of sight, out of mind, right? As soon as Cartman lets himself imagine what was happening behind his back, in his mind he's standing on his grandparents' porch, wanting to hitch-hike home and find her or he's listening to her cry as he refuses to sleep in the same bed as her, because she needs comfort and support and she knows as well as Cartman does, that he can't give that to her. No matter how much she wants to believe otherwise.
But instead of trying to articulate all that to Kyle without having a panic attack, he shakes his head and flatly says "No. No, my mom and I don't talk to each other. At least, about things like that"
"Well, what about a therapist?" Kyle asks, albeit rather hopelessly "Maybe they can help?"
"Talking about it would make it harder to ignore" Cartman explains, cringing at Kyle's suggestion. "And I want to ignore it. Honestly, I'd prefer it to just fuck off and leave me alone."
"Can you ignore it?" Kyle asks, almost sounding like a whimper. The plaintive nature of his voice pretty much answering his question.
"No" Cartman replies matter-of-factly, but he still felt his eyes grow misty and the word catch in his throat "When it's happening, it's all too huge and crazy and I'm too busy trying to tear myself down to ignore it..."
"Come here" Kyle whispered sadly, directing Eric's mouth to his own and the both of them moaned as their lips tenderly melded. Kyle's gentle fingers wiped away invisible tears and Cartman kinda wanted to kiss them too.
"Look" Kyle began to speak as the kiss broke, his fingers being drawn into Cartman's mouth "I'm not a doctor and maybe I'm saying this because apparently I care too much and I want to help you but, maybe if you think about things that make you happy or make you feel good about yourself then it could negate all that anxiety?"
Cartman smiled appreciatively, before thinking about how under things listed Makes me feel happy Kyle was the first person that came to his mind. And he didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you" Kyle said between the kisses him and Cartman were exchanging at the door "Do you play football?"
"Rugby" Cartman replied, choosing to ignore the implication that he played football.
"Hmm, rugby, huh?" Kyle smirked, squeezing Eric's broad shoulders and kissing the corner of his mouth "You don't see a lot of high schools with a rugby team..."
"Yeah, well, our high school wanted to be different" Cartman shrugged, before rolling his eyes and smiling "More European or something."
Looking contemplatively into Cartman's eyes, Kyle finally said "Maybe I could come and watch you play sometime?"
Cartman swallowed and attempted to hide his inexplicable anxiety at Kyle's innocent question "Yeah, cool." he nodded, unsure.
"Alright" Kyle grinned "Are you any good?"
"The best Prop that Park County High School has ever seen" Cartman replied arrogantly, forgetting to mention that he was the only Prop Park County High School had ever seen. It was a fairly new school sport.
"I have no idea what the Hell that is" Kyle admitted.
"Then you better do your research" Cartman smirked, giving Kyle one last kiss before heading out the door.
As Cartman stood by his locker, absent-mindedly pulling out the necessary books he needed for today, he wondered what it would be like to be apart of the many groups forming in the hallways. To talk to people because you wanted to, not because it was a formality. To sit on a crowded table in the cafeteria instead of on your own. And he even wondered, why haven't I given anybody a chance?
Because they're assholes. Plain and simple, an undeniable fact.
What if people looked at him? What if other people saw something worth having in him? Something that made them want to love him, befriend him, Hell, talk to him. A lot of these kids Cartman had known since preschool and yet a lot of them Cartman could vaguely remember from middle school. And they had never talked to him, not like he gave them a reason to.
Suddenly, all those flaws that Cartman had spotted in himself, whether in the bathroom mirror or just out of the consequences of his actions, were magnified once again. All these strangers had probably noticed them, Cartman realized, maybe they're so glaringly obvious that it's like my own personal leper bell. But do I really care? I'm not so sure.
Who knew a single text could distract him from the onset of a panic attack?
It was from Kyle and Cartman burned shamefully at seeing his name, in the middle of the school hallway. It read; 'You're beautiful and doing okay. Remember that, promise?'
Cartman sighed raggedly, his eyes stinging and he turned his back away from any possible onlookers of his little display.
Biting his lip, with shaking fingers he replied 'Promise'
Cartman wasn't sure if Kenny's expulsion extended as far as him being banished permanently from school grounds, even after hours. Still, he was mildly pleased that Kenny had unexpectedly turned up to watch his rugby practice. Along with a bored Bebe (who was on her phone a lot of the time, talking to Wendy whilst pretending to be interested in Clyde; AKA Outside Half for the Park County High Rugby team) and the forever optimistic and jolly Butters (supporting Dougie, who played on the Wing. Although Cartman and Kenny had always joked that Butters was a creature incapable of sex, his and Dougie's relationship had always been rather ambiguous, even when they were little kids pretending to be super villains)
Kenny sat on the barely dry bleachers, shivering under his worn, stretched parka and while he looked thoroughly unamused and was holding his cigarette for dear life, he was still the only vibrant color on a dismal palette.
Cartman wondered if Kenny was here to be supportive or to just ogle the guys on the field; teeming with testosterone and getting very handsy during the scrum. Kenny always maintained that guys with scars and bruises are hot, he should know, he's been the recipient of some pretty nasty (and fatal) injuries himself.
Still, Kenny hung around long enough so he could tag along with Cartman on the walk home.
"So" Kenny began, trying to stay cool "How's Jolene?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cartman asked, tired and antsy as he always was after practice.
"Your naivety is sometimes startling" Kenny muttered, rolling his eyes. "How's Kyle? You saw him yesterday, didn't you?"
"Oh" Cartman nodded "Yeah, he's great. I think..."
"You think?" Kenny asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know. I didn't ask him"
"Oh well, I guess your mouth was too full to ask, anyway..." Kenny said with a faux-innocence, which only made him feel meaner. He hated it. Still, he rubbed the back of his neck nonchalantly and stared up at the pale grey sky. Meanwhile, Cartman shot Kenny a disapproving look and almost snarled.
Cartman would've stormed off and left him there, if his legs weren't aching like a bitch. So he decided to knock Kenny off whatever high horse he had suddenly decided he wanted to climb on and snapped back "Yes, Kenny, it was"
"Really?" Kenny whispered, his stomach lurching with both the need to laugh in shock and well, his distaste at the whole thing "You sucked his cock?"
Cartman froze then, reeling from Kenny's bluntness (which he should've been more than used to) but it was the fact that this bluntness was aimed at Kyle and him; that's what hit Cartman the most.
"Um, y-yes" Cartman stammered, blushing furiously "I did"
"Wow" Kenny whispered, wondering when exactly did Cartman start to become less and less predictable, when he met Kyle, Kenny guessed. Still, he laughed supportively and threw his arm across Cartman's dirt-covered back, ignoring how he winced.
"Good for you, man!" Kenny cheered, coughing into his fist and shyly adding "I guess..."
"Kenny, are you okay?" Cartman asked, tenderly removing himself from Kenny's hold.
"Fine. Totally great" Kenny lied, surprising himself at how great of an actor he was; as he was able to twist his face into a mega-watt smile so easily "So, let's talk about Kyle's dick..."
"We really don't have to" Cartman cringed, shooting Kenny a questioning look.
"I wanna know" Another lie and Kenny knew as well as Cartman that it fell flat.
"Seriously Kenny, drop it" Cartman said darkly, shoving Kenny away from him and walking on ahead.
Kenny, meanwhile, sighed pathetically, shoving his hands in his pockets and debating whether it was worth catching up to him. God, why did Kyle bother him so much? Why was it even his business? The last thing Kenny wanted to be was petty or jealous. Because he wasn't. Nope. And he wasn't gonna start now. But he just thought... That he had math on his side. As far as Kenny knew, Cartman and him were the only gay teenagers in this town. So it was such a foolish, crazy thought to entertain that he and Cartman would end up together someday? Statistically speaking, it was perfectly logical. To Kenny, anyway.
"God damn it" Kenny muttered heavily, kicking an ever-deepening puddle before calling out "Dude, wait!"
Cartman grinned and rolled his eyes, trying to look pissed off as he waited for him.
And as they continued their walk home together, Kenny tried to convince himself that this wasn't a crush. Merely a frustration that his plan didn't quite work out the way he wanted it to.
Cartman's next visit to Kyle's apartment was a Thursday. This time he wasn't greeted with a hungry kiss but rather a quick, chaste peck and a quite stressed Kyle.
"Hey" Kyle said breezily, smelling of coffee and the type of shower gel that reminded Cartman of a locker room.
"Hi" Cartman replied rather shyly "Are you okay?"
"What?" Kyle asked, running a hand through his unbrushed curls "Yeah, I'm fine. Busy. I have a deadline"
"Oh" Cartman nodded, glancing at the desk in Kyle's living room that he had unsurprisingly never noticed before. It was tall and black and Cartman was pretty sure that it was an antique or something, since it looked so old and incompatible with the rest of Kyle's Ikea and Pottery Barn furnished living room. Cartman wondered if this was done purposefully, although Kyle seemed too neurotic about keeping his apartment fashionable to consciously buy a desk like that. A laptop sat, glaring and ominous and a large, coffee-shop style mug was perched next to it. "I can come back another time-"
"Don't be an idiot" Kyle laughed, kissing Cartman pointedly "I'm nearly finished"
And with that, Kyle rushed back over to his leather office chair (that spun slightly as Kyle sat down) and went back to work. Cartman, meanwhile, made himself comfortable on the couch and watched.
He knew Kyle was a writer, but that was the extent of his knowledge on Kyle's career. But what he was watching was pretty close to what he imagined when he thought of Kyle working; staring wide-eyed at the screen, self-consciously tripping over words in his head and trying to remain humble as he marveled over others, an eloquent spitfire whose voice could be heard through the expression of his sentences and every rearrangable letter could be transformed and molded into his own. His fingers erratically dancing on the hot coals of the keyboard and the stress of his deadline and his own insecurities were dampened somewhat by the fact that he was doing what he loved, continuing to enjoy it. And at that, Cartman smiled. Because it just proved that Kyle was passionate. About everything that he cared about.
In a rare moment of distraction, Kyle caught Cartman's adoring smile in the reflection of his computer screen and smirked, he teased "What's so funny, Eric?"
"Nothing" Cartman coughed, blushing and scowling at Kyle's laughter "So, what exactly do you do?"
"I write" Kyle replied automatically, his eyes trained to the screen.
"I know that" Cartman said impatiently, rolling his eyes "Do you wanna maybe elaborate? I'm sure there's more to your job description"
Kyle chuckled before replying "I'm a freelance writer. Which would be a lot less stressful if I was richer but there you go. I'm kinda like a substitute teacher but with nowhere near as much job security..."
"So what type of things do you write about?" Cartman asks.
"Whatever people want me to" Kyle shrugged, adding "I'm kind of whorish that way. Usually I write opinion pieces for men's magazines or if I'm really lucky those glossy magazines that you feel too immature to buy at the store. But when I write for those publications I have to read up on a lot of current events and cultural stuff that goes way over my head. I'm starting to write for a lot of online magazines too. I love having the chance to write about movies or the NBA, since I'm such an excitable little geek when it comes to those. Oh, sometimes I have to write opinion or debate pieces for women's magazines, nine times outta ten they want a straight guy's perspective because their opinion pieces usually involve some guy making underlying misogynistic comments and implying that men everywhere just think about having sex with hot chicks and, personally, I don't think that's true. So I have a little fun and be all sarcastic but then they think I'm being totally serious when really, what they don't know is, that when I was writing that piece it was two AM and I was laughing my ass off. But now I'm writing crappy, fluffy shit that it's in the corner of the page that nobody reads for the Denver Post. God, it's kinda sad how often I'm stuck writing these."
Cartman laughed and asked "If they're so crappy why don't you just write something else?"
"Because it's my corner of the page and I'll take whatever I can get" Kyle replied matter-of-factly "But I can't complain. I'm doing what I love and it keeps this rented roof over my head"
"You've always wanted to be a freelance writer?"
"No" Kyle replied "When I was nine I wanted to play for the Denver Nuggets"
"The Denver Nuggets?!" Cartman laughed disbelievingly.
"Hey, I kick fucking ass at basketball!" Kyle argued "I was the best at my school!"
"So why didn't the NBA career pan out?" Cartman smirked.
"Because my coach said that Jews can't play basketball. And I wasn't tall enough" Kyle answered "Anyway, when I was in high school I had to write a short story in English class. Firstly, I was like 'What the fuck? What do I know about writing?' But I really enjoyed it. Turns out, mine was the best in the class. And I've loved writing ever since"
"So do you wanna keep your corner of the page for the rest of your life?" Cartman asked.
"No fucking way" Kyle laughed, shaking his head "Ever since that short story I've wanted to write a novel"
"Then why don't you?" Cartman asked, though he felt he was the last person to be lecturing Kyle on what he should be doing with his life and following through with his ambitions.
"I haven't found a story I cared about" Kyle replied wistfully.
"You will someday..." Cartman reassured, hoping that it would make Kyle feel slightly better.
"I'm sure I will" Kyle smiled moonily before it turned slightly wicked. His impatience and arousal was spiking the more he talked to Eric without looking at him, touching him. Weirdly, the very short distance between them was cruelly hot and tempting. And Kyle wanted to make Eric impatiently and lustfully think of him the same way he was "But at this precise moment, what I really want to do, is sixty-nine with you..."
"Really?" Cartman asked, his voice dry and his skin seemed to suddenly prickle with heat. God, how could he ever forget what Kyle did to him? So cool and maddening and Cartman knew that until the moment came, all he would be able to think about was 69-ing with Kyle.
"Yep. And I will do exactly that once I've finished" Kyle teased, feeling both cruel and turned on at the same time.
Forty five minutes later, the two of them were lying side by side on Kyle's living room floor. They were kissing tenderly, with their fingers loosely linked, not ready to be separated from the wonderful heat, palpable chemistry and each other just yet. Their clothes were strewn on Kyle's sofa and the smell of sex and sweat filled the air.
As soon as Kyle had finished working, he was on the couch with Cartman, exchanging deep kisses and pawing at him greedily, their bodies rocking together roughly to give their aching arousals' some relief. They didn't make it to Kyle's bedroom, they were deftly and hungrily undressing each other on the couch and before they knew it they were on Kyle's living room floor.
Cartman had thrown his head back and cried in passionate ecstasy when Kyle's mouth was finally on his cock and Kyle had to raggedly demand Eric to suck him. Cartman held Kyle's gleaming head in his trembling mouth and Kyle was sure he was going to come just at that hot, ethereal sensation. While Kyle rhythmically sucked on Cartman's thick member, sliding his tongue generously and drawing out each deep suck, Cartman chose to playfully lick and kiss Kyle's erection and balls, but because Kyle reacted so wonderfully when he did, Cartman also occasionally sucked the head of Kyle's leaking cock; God, Kyle loved it. Cartman's tongue and lips felt electric. He squeezed Kyle's ass and ran his fingers over Kyle's thighs, clawing at the soft, alabaster skin when he came heavily in Kyle's tight, sizzling mouth. Their lips quivered at the pleasure they were receiving, sometimes it was difficult to concentrate as their bodies writhed in a mutual lust and groans and cries tore them away from the head they were giving.
Their breathing was still labored as they kissed, melting as their lips collided.
Kyle stared at Eric with damp, hazy eyes and sighed "Do you wanna go on a date with me?"
"A date?" Cartman laughed, nipping at Kyle's flushed bottom lip.
"Yeah" Kyle smiled "Don't you think it would be fun?"
"I guess" Cartman teased "What would we do on this date?"
"I'll take you to a fancy restaurant and we can talk and get to know more about each other-"
"Yeah, considering I've had your cock in my mouth I don't know a lot about you" Cartman remarked and he didn't feel anxious at all. That was a first.
Kyle laughed before saying "Aren't you done with being mysterious? I am"
"Yep. Me too" Cartman replied distantly, not knowing whether that was true.
"And then we can take a cab back to my place, go to the roof and see the view. I was gonna have to show it to you sooner or later because it's spectacular."
"A view I wouldn't get in the mountains?" Cartman asked, raising a joking eyebrow.
"Probably not" Kyle smirked "It's a city view"
"Then definitely not like South Park" Cartman realized, speaking almost to himself.
"So have I sold you?" Kyle asked, moving his mouth from Eric's lips and kissing his neck, instead.
"Totally" Cartman grinned.
When Cartman managed to pull himself away from Kyle, his wide, gorgeous eyes, illicitly stunning smile and his unfairly hot nakedness, and returned home, his mom was actually conscious. Usually she was sleeping by now. Or even earlier. Sometimes she was sleeping when Cartman came home from school.
"Hi, mom" Cartman said, making an effort to mask his shock.
His mom was filing down her already short, red, painted nails and her eyes had drained a clinical Blue from the glow of the TV. Why weren't the lights on? It made Cartman feel cold. Even the house was unwelcoming.
"Hey sweetie" Lianne grinned, briefly turning her attention away from the TV. Cartman squirmed in an unwanted offense at her lack of concern. Surely she was curious as to where he had been? As far as she knew he didn't have places to go or any reason to stray from the town border.
Maybe she does care, Cartman thought sadly, but she's got a lot on her mind right now. Any kind of raise in his self-esteem or fragile confidence that he had felt when he was with Kyle, cruelly evaporated at home and he cursed how pathetic he was being. Why did it matter that he wasn't on his mother's mind? In his opinion, it was her loss and not his. After all, for nine years she's only had her son to worry about. Cartman wondered if she ever thought about drugs, reminisced about all the highs and conveniently forgot the lows. Of course she thinks about them, Cartman thought derisively, why did he even doubt it?
Arrogance is a dangerous trait. Cartman knew that better than anybody. His arrogance was once his beloved crutch and biting enemy. Now, he couldn't fathom the concept. It had slipped him by like a childhood habit he never noticed growing out of. What was the point? He thought sadly, What's the God damn point?
But with the scent of Kyle's apartment still lingering in his throat and the sore heat of carpet burn on his shoulders, Cartman figured that maybe he could be bitten again. That it wouldn't be so bad.
I'll make sure I'm on your mind
"Mom, I have a date" Cartman announced, thankfully swallowing his nervousness before his voice could become shaky.
"Oh" Lianne replied simply, a semblance of an unreadable emotion trespassing her otherwise blank face. Cartman could feel himself waiting with bated breath. Looking for a reaction. Curiosity, confusion, worry. God damn it, woman, give me something!
"Who's the lucky girl, hun?" Lianne asked, Cartman hated the way she was looking at him. As if she was too dumb to recognize the stupidity and nerve of her own question.
Cartman shook his head and quickly muttered "You don't know her..."
He walked up to his room with his eyes cast down, closing his bedroom door with a pointed slam. Hoping his mom would notice.
When all he was offered was a rejected, mocking silence, he gripped his hair in frustration and threw himself on his freshly made bed. Shouting angrily into the pillow for good measure.
And he decided to wait. To see if anything stuck in her head, if anything registered. But it didn't.
So he fell asleep.
A/N: Sorry if this chapter seemed kinda filler. But there was 69-ing, maybe that makes up for it. After all, 69-ing is always entertaining.
If I could hug anybody who got the whole 'Jolene' reference, I so would. And if you didn't get it, listen to Jolene by Dolly Parton and then you'll understand my lame joke. I don't know why, but I have this headcanon of Kenny singing that song drunkenly at an open mic night or singing along to it on the radio in his car.
Also, sorry it's so short (well, shorter than the previous chapters anyway). The next chapter will be longer, I promise.
Sorry for saying sorry too much. Apparently I do that a lot.