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Title: My Future's Bound [2/4]
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: South Park
Pairings: Stan/Kyle, Kenny/Butters, Stan/Kenny/Butters, and Stan/Wendy, with some Kyle/OC, and mentioned Kyle/Bebe, Bill/Fosse, Butters/Dougie (or should I say Professor Chaos/General Disarray?) and Ike/Wendy. Probably some others that are casually mentioned that are utterly inconsequential.
Word Count: 30,614 altogether. 9,518 in this entry.
Summary: Stan and Kyle accidentally have phone sex while playing the newest MMORPG craze. Afterwards, Kyle comes out while Stan tries to deny what he feels. Also, Ike is generally awesome.
Disclaimer: Matt, Trey, and Comedy Central own the South Park boys.
Warnings: Fair warning: I looked up the age of legal consent in Colorado, and it's 16. Stan and Kyle are 16/17 in this fic, which is technically "underage," though they're old enough to consent to what they're doing. If the idea of them being under 18 bothers you, then I'd skip it. Just fair warning.
Thanks to: Rachael, Crys, & Willow.



For six entire months, Kenny's advice works. Stan settles back into his life and holds Wendy's hand in the hallways at school, he hangs out with his friends, and things are semi-normal.

Unfortunately, then school lets out and Wendy decides to spend her summer volunteering to help underprivileged children in some kind of third world country or something, and what's he supposed to say? "No, Wendy. Don't go help those poor kids who need you. Stay here with me." Of course not. So he rides with her parents to the airport to drop her off and hugs her goodbye, and that's that. She'll be back in time for school to start again, she'll write him regularly and call if there's an available phone, but for all intents and purposes, he's single for the summer.

And that means he's horny, which means more time spent cruising for internet porn and less pickiness about what he ends up watching.

So. How he ends up on the site, he'll never know. He loses track of what he's clicking when porn is involved. But somehow or other, he ends up on a gay site and by then he's gone past the point where he can think, "Oh, but I shouldn't watch that," and is more in a place of, "Anything that works, don't care how wrong it might be, just please, God, let me get off."

Like most sites, he's found, it has a small selection of free sample videos, and he hits play on the first without caring. Whatever it is has to be worth a shot.

And oh, God, there are two guys kissing and the one on top has the other's cock inside him and he's riding it, just like Wendy rode him the night of the homecoming dance. His back is glistening with sweat, starting from the base of his—fuck, red hair—all the way down to the curve of his ass.

That'll about do it, Stan thinks, and comes, biting his lip and refusing to say Kyle's name.

But once the glow of having come wears off, it sort of hits him that he's just gotten off over two guys, one of whom looked like imagines Kyle will in about ten years, and Kyle's name was on the tip of his tongue when it happened.

And Kenny can say it didn't matter all he wants, but what happened with Kyle on the chat line really fucked him over. It was an entire fucking year ago and for most of that time, Stan's been able to put it out of his mind, but he can't now, and that has to be something.

Of course, none of it matters since Stan's got a girlfriend, even if she is off helping make the world a better place. And he loves Wendy. He really does. That's why he doesn't get this whole thing. Why he's looking at guys when he has a perfectly amazing girlfriend who loves him and who he loves back.

And even if it were just Kyle—which Stan's starting to suspect it's not—Kyle's still with Justin and in the nine months since the homecoming dance, they've gotten pretty serious, or at least as serious as people can be in high school. Stan knows for a fact they've met each other's parents and Justin has been invited to Kyle's house on more than one Jewish holiday, always on Mrs. Broflovski's insistence. Kyle says she's just trying to convince Justin to convert, but either way, spending holidays with each other's family is serious, so. It's not like anything could happen, even if Stan decided he wanted it to.

So the problem is that Stan's sitting here staring at a mess of his own come and realizing that...yeah. He wants it to happen. Just once, just to see. Maybe just to satisfy his curiosity or something.

Maybe if he did it with someone else, though. Kenny would do it. Kenny doesn't care. And Butters doesn't mind Kenny sleeping with other people, so he wouldn't even have to worry about that.

But Wendy would. Wendy would care. She would tell him he was disrespecting her by having sex with someone else, and he respects her so much that he couldn't stand it if she thought otherwise.

But what the fuck does she expect him to do? Stay celibate all summer? He's a sixteen year old boy for fuck's sake. And what about her? Like she's really not going to hook up with someone in her volunteer group?

And wouldn't it be better to do it now and get it out of his system so that he's ready for her and only her when she gets back? Doesn't that make sense?

"Fuck," he says angrily and snatches up the box of tissues he keeps on his desk, using them to clean up his mess. He has a feeling he's grasping at straws, rationalizing to try and make this okay when it isn't. But he has to do something. He just has to. He can't take this niggling in the back of his mind anymore.

Of course, he has no idea how to just walk up to Kenny and ask him for that. Plus, if he knows Kenny like he thinks he does...well. He'd rather the other person be just as timid and shy as he is, that's all.

And fuck it all, he somehow manages to convince himself it's a good idea to invite Butters over to his house one Saturday when his parents are driving to Denver to visit his sister and her boyfriend.

But, as things tend to happen when Stan tries to make plans, Butters doesn't come alone. He brings Kenny, too. And oh, great, so now both of them are there and he can't make a move on either. Great.

So they play video games for a long time before Stan finally drags Kenny into the kitchen and says, "You're cockblocking me, dude."

"I'm what?"

"I...you! Being here! You're cockblocking me."

"Where exactly are you trying to stick your cock that I'm suddenly blocking it?"

"Butters."

Kenny stares at him. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"No?"

Kenny shakes his head. "Why do you want to hook up with Butters?"

"Um...curiosity?"

"So...just so I have all the facts straight, you want me to leave so you can hook up with my guy, right?"

"Yes. But you don't care about that kind of stuff, so I figured it would be okay."

"No, dude, I'm fine with that. Just...Butters? Look, I love him, you know that, but if you want to try it, you kind of need someone who's going to show you how it's done, not..." He glances back out into the living room where Butters sits, happily playing the game. "Look, he's just kind of shy at first and if you don't know how to crack him open, it's just...anyway. You need someone more confident."

"Like who?"

Kenny sighs. "Look. Let me talk to Butters. I've been trying to convince him to have a threeway and he keeps saying he can't think of anyone we'd both go for, so...let me just talk to him. Maybe..."

"Wait. Both of you?"

"Yeah."

"Kenny, I was nervous about trying it with one of you."

"Look, we're friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"So do you trust me?"

"I guess."

"No. As my friend, do you trust me?"

Stan sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I trust you."

"Okay. Then go upstairs, dig out your bottle of lube and some condoms, and wait for us, okay? I just need to talk to Butters first."

"I—what...um. Why would I need that stuff?"

"Cause it hurts like a bitch otherwise. Trust me. Now go."

Stan makes his way up to his room and sets out the items Kenny asked him to, and then proceeds to panic.

After throwing up and furiously brushing his teeth and practically chugging Listerine, he heads back to his bedroom and finds them already there.

"Oh. Uh, hey," he says.

They're kissing on his bed, Kenny's fingers wound into Butters' blond hair, and when they part to greet him, Butters looks dazed and disoriented, like someone hit him over the head with a frying pan or something.

"C'mere," Kenny says.

"What....what are you going to do?"

"Probably kiss you."

Stan pales.

"Look, I'm not gonna fuck you," Kenny says. "And neither is Butters. And you're not fucking either of us. We decided. Butters doesn't want either of us having to watch the other do that with someone. And besides, you're just experimenting so you're not ready for that. So just get over here and let us kiss you, all right?"

Stan pushes his bedroom door shut and carefully makes his way over to them. He does feel a little bit better now, though his stomach is still doing back flips. At least they're not quite as exuberant as before.

"Butters, you okay with this?" Stan asks, because it just feels weird to be about to kiss someone's boyfriend in front of them.

"Yeah," Butters answers. "He kisses real good, Stan."

Kenny grins at him and his whole face lights up.

"Okay," Stan says, and lets them pull him down onto the bed between them.

Kenny kisses him first, as promised, while Butters carefully slips one hand under his shirt and slides it across his belly. The contrast is almost breathtaking, the way Kenny kisses sure and confident against the way Butters' fingers skid across his skin nervously, like despite the fact that Stan told him it was okay, he's still waiting for a sign.

And Stan sees Kenny's point now. He's not sure he'd have been brave enough to ask Butters for more. But still, there's almost something...sexy about Butters' timidness in this context.

Stan wonders what it says about him that he finds Butters' timidity sexier than Kenny's confidence, or that when he lets himself fantasize about this, it's always with himself in control. He's always the confident one. In the fantasies, Kyle always thanks Stan for taking care of him. He's grateful. Just like Wendy's always grateful when he takes care of her, too.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Kenny's fingers join Butters' under his shirt and together, they pull it off over his head. He feels weird being the only one shirtless until Kenny pulls Butters' shirt off and then his own.

And Christ. Stan's usually too busy staring at Kyle in the locker room at school so he's never really noticed before, but Kenny's been hiding a nice body under that old orange parka.

Butters, on the other hand, is thin and lean and he makes Stan think of those guys he's seen on porn, the ones who are always short, blond, and muscle-free. Maybe he's trying to cultivate a look or something. Stan doesn't know. He just knows that he likes that, too, and neither of them are touching him enough.

"Kenny?"

"Mphm?"

Stan pries Kenny's lips away from his neck and asks, "What comes next?"

"I don't know. It depends. There's not really a set order. Why? What do you want?"

"I don't know. More. What else is there?"

Kenny laughs. "Lots of stuff. Here." Kenny moves him to the top of the bed and tugs his jeans down past his hips.

"What the—"

But Kenny's already moving away and moving next to Stan, kissing Butters softly.

"You want to suck him off?" Kenny asks.

"Sure," Butters answers. "But what are you gonna be doing, Kenny?"

"Fucking you," Kenny murmurs, and Butters grins brighter than Stan's ever seen him smile.

"You're gonna do that with me here?" Stan asks.

"Why? You got a problem watching?" Kenny asks.

Stan shakes his head. "No. Is that okay, Butters?"

He needs to know that Butters is okay with it before he can go through with it, but Butters nods emphatically.

"See?" Kenny says. "He wants to do it. So just relax, Stan. Let him blow you. He's good at it."

"Thanks," Butters says. "That's awful nice of you, Kenny."

Kenny kisses him again and guides him down between Stan's legs, propped up on his elbows so he can suck Stan's cock.

"Go on, Butters," Kenny urges. "Show him what you can do while I get you ready, all right?"

Butters nods and then he's licking his way up the underside of Stan's cock.

It's not like Stan's never had a blowjob before. He has. Plenty of them. Wendy's great at them, though she teases him and asks exactly what he's implying when he tells her that. But he's never had one before where he could look over top the giver's head and see someone else, a third person, slicking up their fingers and pushing them inside the giver, finger-fucking them open.

It's just a lot to take in all at once, that's all, so even though he's used to getting blow jobs, he's not used to this, and his brain feels more or less like a giant ball of fuzz.

"Fuck," he murmurs, and hesitates.

"Is it okay to put my hand on his head?" he asks Kenny.

"Yeah. He doesn't mind. Just don't pull his hair."

Stan nods. "He's...fuck. He's good."

"Hello, preacher. I'm the choir," Kenny answers.

"I just meant—Jesus, Butters."

Kenny laughs. "Yeah. Hey, Butters, you ready?"

Butters nods and holy crap, they're not going to do this with him right there. They're not. They wouldn't. They won't.

They do and he feels it the second Kenny enters Butters because Butters' entire demeanor changes. He was sucking Stan's cock well before, but it's like suddenly, all his inhibitions are gone and it goes from good to, "Holy crap, that's my cock not some kind of extra-tasty popsicle you have to devour whole."

"Told ya," Kenny says, clearly reading the look on Stan's face. "You gotta crack him open."

Stan tries to reply, but the words get lost in his throat and it mostly comes out as a loud whimper.

But as good as the blowjob is, there's something else there, too. As good as the mouth around him feels, his eyes are trained on Kenny and Butters, on the way Kenny looks at him, or on the way Butters lifts his hips to follow Kenny every time he pulls away. It's more than that, too, like the way they move together or the way that Butters turns to look at him every time he takes a break from sucking Stan's cock to catch his breath.

He knew they were together, sure, and knew Kenny said he loved him—had saw Butters sit with Kenny's body almost every single time Kenny died, sometimes for days at a time—but he'd never really figured them for...intimate. But they are and he feels like he's intruding on something no one else is ever meant to see, something that's supposed to be just special between the two of them.

And he has this sinking feeling that he and Wendy aren't that close. They're close, sure, but they're not like this, and that...that says something.

He wants that. He doesn't know how to get it, or if he even can, but he wants to not be able to take his eyes off someone. Maybe he's just asking for too much.

"Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"Does he...um. Swallow?"

Kenny nods. "Just give him warning so he doesn't choke."

"Butters? Uh, fuck. I'm gonna—"

It feels stupid to just say, "I'm going to come." It sounds so lame and ridiculous, but Butters seems to get the point anyway.

When it's over, Kenny tugs Butters onto his knees, then kneels behind him and pulls Butters down on his cock.

Fuck. Stan thinks he's got some kind of obsession with that whole "riding someone's cock thing," because it doesn't take long before he goes from worrying about what this all means to, "Fuck, ride him harder, Butters," and sliding his hand along his spent, but rallying, cock.

"C'mere," Kenny says, beckoning Stan closer until his knees are touching Butters'. "Here. Want to try something?"

"I guess."

Kenny takes his hand and guides it to Butters' cock and Butters' hand to his.

"Jerk him off."

"How?"

"Just like you would yourself. Just try it."

"Please, Stan?" Butters asks. "I'm awful hard and if I don't come soon, I just don't know what I'm gonna do."

It's really not that hard to do, once Stan just lets himself try. Butters is mostly fucking his hand as he moves on Kenny's cock, anyway.

But it's the first time he's ever touched another guy's dick and the thing is? It feels good. It feels right, like yeah, he should do this more often. He had a similar feeling the first time he went down on Wendy, though it had taken him awhile to figure that one out since everything was different.

But yeah. He likes it. Maybe if he were feeling a little braver, he'd ask to try blowing him, but Butters is close anyway and Stan's still trying to deal with everything, so...maybe some other time.

"Kiss him," Kenny urges, and Stan does, some kind of instinct kicking in that wants him to just go with it, and he's still kissing Butters when he comes, and still yet when his second orgasm rips through him.

He watches as Kenny comes, fucking slow and steady and burying his face against Butters' neck before slipping out of him and kissing him deeply. He thinks he gets now how they can fuck other people and still be fine together, because nothing else on earth could ever compare to that, so he imagines they probably feel pretty secure that the other one isn't going to leave them for something less than what they have.

"You okay?" Kenny asks softly. His fingers trail down Butters' side contentedly. Comfortably. And Stan can't quit looking at them.

"Yeah," Butters answers. "I'm gonna be awful sore tonight, though. I hope my parents don't notice."

Kenny sighs and kisses the top of Butters' hair. "I hate your parents."

"Aw, you shouldn't say that. They're my mom and dad."

"They're jerks," Kenny tells him. He suddenly looks up, like he's just remembered Stan is there, and adds, "How're you doing over there, Stan?"

"Um. Aside from the fact that my knees feel like jelly and I think my brain moved away without leaving a forwarding address, I'm okay."

Kenny nods. "Mind if we use your shower?"

Stan shakes his head. "It's fine."

In the fifteen minutes it takes them to finish showering, Stan decides a few things. The first is that he needs to try this again. If not with Butters or Kenny, then at least with someone. The second is that he still loves Wendy and wants to be with her. And the third is that yes, this is more than a little about Kyle and he's going to have to face up to that someday soon. But that day isn't this one, so when Kenny and Butters have gone home, he stands under the hot spray of his shower and tries not to think of himself as a cheater.

***


Stan has tried to avoid being alone with Kyle since he started letting himself hook up with guys. A huge part of him is terrified he'll do something extremely stupid and fuck things up on a grand kind of scale.

But Justin's on vacation with his family this week and Kyle begged him to come over, so...what was he supposed to say? "Sorry, I'm still sore from letting a guy fuck me for the first time last night and every fucking day I'm getting closer to realizing I want to be with you, so no, sorry, I can't come over right now." Yeah. That'd go over well.

"I wish Justin would come back," Kyle says wistfully.

"You miss him?"

"A little. I'm not ready to cry about it, if that's what you mean, but...yeah. I miss him. Guess you know all about that, though, huh?"

"What?"

"Wendy. She's gone all summer. At least Justin will be back by next week."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

"Dude, you okay? You seem distracted."

"I'm fine."

Kyle shrugs. "You heard from her?"

"Couple postcards. Mostly just, 'I'm fine—haven't been kidnapped by the natives yet,' type stuff."

Kyle nods.

"Sucks you have to spend summer before junior year single."

Stan shrugs. What's he going to say to that? Point out that technically, he hasn't exactly been celibate over the past few months? Tell Kyle exactly who and what he's done? He can't. He won't.

"Yeah," he lies.

"Betcha miss the sex, huh?"

"A little. You?"

Kyle laughs. "No, dude. I don't miss having sex with Wendy."

"I meant Justin."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Don't sound too enthusiastic, there, man."

"No, I just...I don't know."

"I thought you said you missed him."

"I do. Just..." He shrugs. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing. Sorry. I'm just being weird."

"You're being cryptic, is what you're being."

"He just...he gives really bad blowjobs. And I keep trying to give him tips and he's not getting better. He's good at everything else, but honestly, I don't know how the hell he expects me to sit through another one of his god-awful blowjobs."

"Oh. Uh. Well, is he trying?"

"Not really. And he kind of gets pissed if I tell him he's doing it wrong. And it wouldn't be so bad if he'd just stop doing it, but he keeps insisting and he gets all hurt when I tell him I don't want one."

"Dude...maybe...uh. You know. If he's not trying to do what's best for you..."

"Huh?"

"Well...it's like, okay, when I'm with Wendy, I try to make sure she gets off before I do, and when that doesn't happen, I still make sure she does at some point. And if she tells me she wants me to do something different than what I'm doing, I do. 'Cause I respect her and I want to treat her good. And if Justin's not doing that for you..."

"I'm not a chick."

"I didn't say you were. That has nothing to do with guys or girls. It's about respect and caring about someone. And if he's not doing it, then..." He shrugs. He refuses to let himself be the one to tell Kyle he shouldn't be with Justin anymore, but, well. He can strongly imply it, right?

"Dude, it's fine. It's just sex. Everything else is fine."

Stan sighs. "Kyle, it's not...just sex. It's...I don't know how to put it, man. But sex isn't just about...sex. Or it shouldn't be. Don't get me wrong—it's fucking awesome and it feels good and yeah, I want as much of it as I can get, but if you're having it with someone you're serious about, then shouldn't it be more?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. A demonstration of how you treat each other? A way to connect? All that faggy stuff? I just...if I were with someone other than Wendy, I don't think I would be quite as focused on how the other person was feeling. I wouldn't want to take care of them as much as I do her. Because I wouldn't love them. I wouldn't respect them as much as I do her. And Justin's treating you like you're not someone he cares about. Plain and simple."

"Stan..."

"Sorry. None of my business."

"No, it's fine. I mean...I brought it up. I just...I do like him. A lot."

"I know."

"And my family likes him, too."

"Yeah."

"And my friends, they all like him. Except for Cartman, but he's not really my friend, anyway, so he doesn't count."

"But?"

"You're probably right," Kyle admits.

Stan keeps his mouth shut for as long as he can before he has to ask, "Why're you putting up with that anyway? You don't put up with shit like that."

"I just kept hoping he'd get better, I guess."

"You can't just keep sitting around waiting for him to start respecting you."

"Yeah. I know."

Stan shrugs. "Anyway. I'm sorry. It's not my business."

"It's fine," Kyle reassures him. "Just...I don't know. I don't want to think about it anymore. That okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. You want to go throw a ball around or something?"

"Yeah," Kyle says. "Fine."

They don't talk about Justin or Wendy at all for the entire rest of the day, and Stan thinks that's probably why they end up having a much better time than the first half of the day would suggest.

***


The next weekend, Kyle's parents are taking a trip to Aspen, leaving Kyle and Ike home alone, and Stan gets a call pretty much the second they're gone asking him to come over.

He packs a backpack with some clothes, not really knowing how long he's going to be at Kyle's and heads over, and pretty much the second he walks in, Kyle shoves a beer into his hand.

"Dude, it's not even dark out yet," Stan says. "You really drinking this early?"

"He's been drinking since mom and dad left," Ike says, idly playing with the label on his own bottle.

"Dude, you okay?" Stan asks.

Kyle shrugs. "Broke up with Justin this morning."

"How'd that go?"

"He just said a lot of shit that...I don't know. Anyway. Sit down. Have a beer."

Stan sighs and drops his bag on the floor by the couch before dropping down onto it gracelessly next to Ike.

"You planning on talking about it, or...?"

"Don't bother," Ike sighs. "I've been trying to get him to talk all morning." He takes another drink of his beer and makes a face. "This shit is disgusting. How the hell do you guys drink this?"

Kyle laughs. "You'll start to like it once your balls drop."

"Fuck you," Ike replies easily and sets the beer down on the table, seemingly done with it. "I'm gonna go hang out with my friends. Stan, if you actually manage to get him to talk, let me know so I can mark my calendar."

When he's gone, Kyle falls onto the couch looking more or less like his legs just decided to give out on him, rather than any kind of conscious decision.

"Fucking sucks, man," he says, and maybe Stan would be able to be some sort of comfort if Kyle's head hadn't landed a few inches from his crotch.

"Dude, get off me," he says instead.

Kyle sighs and shifts until he's no longer partly on top of Stan, then says, very distinctly, "Once again—fucking sucks, man. Now, this is the part where you try to make me feel better."

"Dude, what the hell did he say? You wanted to break up with him, right?"

Kyle stays quiet for a minute before saying, "I just...if I'd wanted to date Cartman, I would've."

"What?"

"Look, don't tell Ike, 'cause it'll just upset him, and I don't even know if Justin really meant it or if he was just saying it 'cause I was breaking up with him and it was a defense thing, but..." He shrugs. "He just said some things that started off with, 'Yeah, well, your dick is weird and it looks naked,' and it ended up going into places that I've never had said to me before except by Cartman, okay? And it just really pissed me off."

"He...he really said that?"

"Yeah. It started when he asked me why I was breaking up with him and I started giving him reasons and one of them was the blowjob thing and he said, 'Yeah, well, maybe I could do a better job if your dick wasn't weird,' and I was like, 'What the fuck?' and he just went on this rant that I swear, he was channeling Cartman for." Kyle shrugs. "Fuck him, right?"

Stan sighs and pats him on the shoulder, unsure what else he should do. "Look, Kyle...I'm really sorry. You know that's fucked up, right? And that he's just...an asshole?"

"I know. Doesn't make it any easier, but I know."

"Kyle...if he really thought that, he should've said something. I mean...didn't he spend Jewish holidays with you guys?"

"Yeah. I don't know. I don't even care. I just...it pisses me off."

Stan sighs. "Look, fuck him. Okay? Fuck him. Forget about him. Let's just get wasted and forget all about him."

Kyle nods. "That's the plan."

"Come on. Cheer up. And since when is being circumcised just a Jewish thing? I'm circumcised and my family's Catholic."

"Which would be fine if that's all he said. But he didn't just fucking stop there, Stan. He kept going. I swear to God, it genuinely surprises me that he and Cartman didn't get along better, especially if he really believes all those things."

"Well, like I said. Fuck him. Fuck him up the ass and without lube, okay? We have beer, and we have an entire weekend, so let's just get drunk and forget about it."

Three beers in, they decide to head upstairs and Kyle puts on the latest Raging Pussies CD. None of the original band members are still in the band anymore, but they still make good music, so they end up camped out on Kyle's bed with the CD going as they finish off the last of the beer in the house. Kyle's dad really doesn't keep that much around anyway, but Kyle's pretty drunk at this point and Stan's not exactly sober anymore, either.

They're laying side-by-side on the bed and Kyle's got his eyes closed as he listens to the song. Stan keeps trying not to watch his face, but he can't help it. Kyle looks so...something. Something that he's really fucking drawn to and it's not his fault that he leans over and kisses him softly.

Kyle's eyes flutter open and it takes him a few seconds before he looks lucid and seems to understand what just happened.

"Stan?"

"Sorry."

"No, it's...it's okay," Kyle whispers.

He rolls onto his side to face Stan and without Stan even thinking about it, he moves to face Kyle, too. It's like magnetic or something and he knows that this is going into seriously dangerous territory, but he can't seem to fight it, either.

Kyle's hand rests on his hip carefully, testing, like he's afraid Stan's going to knock his hand away. Highly unlikely, but Kyle probably doesn't know that.

Stan waits patiently to see if Kyle will kiss him, but he honestly seems to afraid to try so Stan makes the move, sliding his fingers into Kyle's hair and kissing him gently. Kyle's nowhere near as nervous as Butters has been the few times they've hooked up, but he's in that sort of area so Stan goes slow and careful, trying to follow Kenny's advice about cracking nervous boys open.

It takes a long moment before Kyle relaxes into the kiss and his lips part beneath Stan's, but it's worth it, it's so fucking worth it when he feels Kyle's nerves melt.

Stan feels like they've done this before and he's just now coming back to it, even though they never have. It still feels that way, and he tries to push it from his mind.

He could probably stay there kissing Kyle for hours if he had the time, but he wants more than that, too. He wants to show Kyle that Stan can suck his dick so much better than Justin could, that he likes it exactly as it is—likes Kyle exactly as he is—and fuck anyone who can't deal with that level of perfection.

It's possible the beer has gone to his head, but it doesn't stop him from reaching for the zipper on Kyle's jeans.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asks, and fuck, his eyes are dazed beyond the beer and his lips are swollen and red and slick.

Stan can't really stop himself from kissing them again before finally reminding himself that it's important for him to answer that question.

"What's it look like?"

"Stan—"

"Let me."

"You don't have to."

"Want to," Stan murmurs. "Please?"

"If he couldn't do it right after practicing, what makes you think you can? You've never..."

"Shh," Stan says, and kisses him so he won't have to answer that thought and tell Kyle that actually, he's spent the summer letting out his inner queer and yeah, as it turns out, he has.

He undoes the zipper on Kyle's jeans and slips his hand inside, wrapping it around Kyle's cock. He can't do much at this angle and without taking Kyle's cock out, plus there's just the fact that he doesn't have any kind of lubrication, but Kyle's sixteen and Stan's pretty sure carpet lint could get him hard, so.

Yeah. This is better than he thought it would be. He's imagined what it would be like to finally get to touch Kyle like this for a long time and it's better than what he imagined.

"Stan—"

"Take your pants off."

"No, Stan—"

"Please."

"Why?"

"So I can suck you off."

Kyle nearly chokes. "What?"

"Fine, I'll take them off myself," he answers and pushes Kyle's jeans off his hips before rolling Kyle over onto his back and moving down between his legs.

"Stan, you can't."

"I want to. Do you not want me to?"

"I just..."

"Is it because of what Justin said?"

"No," Kyle says honestly. "It's because it's you."

"What's wrong with me?"

"You're you and I'm me."

"And I'm gonna suck you off, so stop arguing with me and enjoy it."

Christ, Kyle's dick feels right in his mouth. Yeah, that's probably the faggiest thing he's ever thought, but fuck. It's like he's fucking Goldilocks and he's finally found the cock that's not too big, not too small, and tastes just right. Or however that story goes.

"Fuck, Stan—"

Stan would answer, but that would require not having Kyle's cock in his mouth and that's just not going to happen until he's blue in the face and has to choose between sucking Kyle's dick or not-dying.

"Stan—fuck, you don't..."

Stan puts his hand over Kyle's mouth and leaves it there until he gets quiet.

"Shh," he says when he's caught his breath. "Just let me do this. Okay? I want to."

"You're drunk."

"Not as drunk as you. I know what I'm doing. Stay still and stop arguing. You want me to do this or you wouldn't be hard."

"I do want it, but—"

"No buts. Let me be a friend. Friends make each other feel better."

"Not by sucking their cock."

"They do now."

And yes, finally, Kyle goes quite and stops fighting and he can do this. He can. He's not the best and he knows it, but he's probably ten thousand steps above Justin and he fucking loves Kyle's cock just like it is. He loves every single inch of it and he's going to prove that to Kyle.

Kyle groans and squeezes his eyes shut. Stan wishes he would look at him, watch how much Stan wants to do this, but whatever. Fuck it. He'll know anyway. Stan knows he will.

He still hasn't been able to deep throat anyone, but Kyle doesn't seem to care. He wishes he knew what Kyle was thinking, though.

"Stan—God. Fuck. This is—" Kyle trails off into a string of unintelligible curses that may possibly be one of the best noises Stan's ever heard in his life.

The muscles of Kyle's thighs twitch on either side of him, and Stan smoothes his fingers across them, willing Kyle to relax more. He doesn't want to just get him off. That's the easy part. He wants to get Kyle off in way that makes Kyle not only acknowledge that it's Stan doing this to him, but that it's Stan he wants to be doing it to him.

"Look at me," Stan begs. "Please, Kyle. Look at me."

Kyle's eyes meet his just as he wraps his lips around the head of Kyle's cock and sucks, running his tongue across it. Perfect he tries to say with his tongue, and the look in Kyle's eyes makes him feel like Kyle's thinking the same thing.

The part of Stan that can still think straight is telling him that this is a mistake, but the noises Kyle makes every time Stan sucks him drown it out and all he can hear is yes, more, fuck, yeah.

God, he wants Kyle to come. He wants Kyle to come so hard he feels it for a week and can't stop thinking about the fact that it was Stan who did it to him.

"Fuck, Stan—I can't—"

It's not much of a warning, but Stan doesn't care. He's fine with choking on Kyle's come if it means he does it with the knowledge that he made Kyle fall apart.

He coughs and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as he watches Kyle shake with the aftershocks of his orgasm. His eyes are shut and his fingers are clenched in the sheets and yeah. Stan did that.

"Stan..." Kyle says finally. "I...what...what just happened?"

"I know you know what a blowjob is."

"Yeah, but I don't know since when you started giving them."

"Today," Stan says with a shrug. "I guess. I don't know. What's it matter?"

"You have my come on your chin and you're asking me what's it matter?"

Stan flushes and wipes at his chin. "Kyle, it was just a blowjob."

"Yeah. Which you gave to me."

"I know."

"You...that was...you knew what you were doing."

Stan shrugs evasively. "Do we have to talk about this? You're my friend and you were upset, so I did something that I thought would make you feel better. Clearly, it didn't work. Sorry."

"Stan...fuck. I...where the fucking hell did that come from?"

"Look, you got off, so I don't see what the problem is."

"The...fuck. The fucking problem is that one, we're friends. Two, you have a girlfriend. Three, a year and a half ago, you couldn't look me in the eye over a little chat line sex and now you're sucking me off like it's no big deal. You don't think I deserve an explanation?"

Look, was it bad or something? Did I do it wrong? I mean, after Justin, that should've felt like the best blowjob in the world. At least compared to him."

"What? Justin? What's he got to do with this? And what the fuck are you talking about? And how the hell do you even know how to do that?"

"You're yelling at me. After I just blew you."

"Yeah, well, you're pissing me off."

"Look, Kyle...I was just trying to...I don't know. Make you feel better. I just...look, I'm drunk and you were there and..."

"You kissed me."

"I know."

"You have a girlfriend and you kissed me."

"I know, Kyle. We're clear on that point."

"Yeah, we just keep coming back to the why that you refuse to give me an answer to."

God, he should've thought this through. Of course Kyle would want to know how he knew what to do. Of course he'd want a why.

"Stan, just...just talk to me. Where'd you learn that?"

"Online."

"That's bullshit. You can't know how to do something just by reading about it. You have to have had practice. Who'd you go down on? Kenny?"

Technically yes, several times, but there's no way Stan's admitting to that.

"No."

"Then how?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it fucking does. Just...that wasn't your first time sucking someone's cock, was it?"

Finally, Stan forces himself to shake his head, 'No.'

"Dude, you've been with Wendy since the third grade. When have you had time to—" Kyle stops. "This summer. She's off helping orphans and you've been here fucking around on her with guys, haven't you?"

Stan stays silent and refuses to meet Kyle's eyes.

"Stan, answer me. Is that what you've been doing all summer?"

"Yes."

"How could you do that to her?"

"I just...wanted to see."

"See what?"

"Nothing, okay? Look, I'm sorry. I thought I was helping you, but I guess not, so...whatever."

"Why can't you just talk to me? I'm your best friend."

"Why the fuck do you think I even wanted to try it in the first place?" Stan spits. "I've been fucked up for the last year because of you. So you don't get to judge me when you're the one who brought it out of me in the first place."

Kyle stares at him. "What?"

Stan stares right back, honestly shocked at himself. "I..."

"Stan?"

"I just didn't realize any of this about myself until that day on the chat line," Stan explains.

"So...what? You're gay?"

"Bisexual, I think. I still like girls."

"Have you told Wendy yet?"

"No."

"Stan, this is so fucked up."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Who've you been...doing that with?"

"Kenny and Butters, mostly. One or two others in North Park when Dad let me borrow the car and I could convince them I had a good reason to be gone for a few hours."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"I'm sorry."

Kyle looks like he wants to ask something else and Stan silently prays to every deity he can think of, regardless of whether or not he believes in any of them, that Kyle won't because Stan can't admit to Kyle what he can't admit to himself yet. It's just not going to happen.

"Stan?"

"Please can we not talk about it anymore?"

"I just...don't understand."

"Which part?"

"The...me part. Do you..."

"You can't ask me that," Stan says bluntly. "You can't, so don't."

"Stan—"

"I should go."

"Do you?"

"I said you can't ask me that. Look, I'll see you around." He gets halfway to the door before Kyle stops him.

"Stan," Kyle says, gripping his arm and spinning him around until they're face-to-face. "For the love of God, will you just talk to me?"

"Let go of me."

"No. Not until you talk to me."

"About what?"

"I'm not stupid, Stan. I can put two and two together."

"But you're coming up with five."

"Am I? Am I really wrong? Seriously? Can you look your best friend in the eye and tell him he's wrong about this?"

"I—you're..." Stan swallows around the lump in his throat. "You're wrong."

"You're lying," Kyle says, but he lets go of Stan's arm anyway. "You're a fucking liar, Stan."

"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter what the truth is or if I'm lying," Stan tells him. "Wendy's coming back in three weeks."

"I can't believe you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll see you around."

"Stan, how can you just leave?"

"What do you want me to do, Kyle?"

"Stay."

"My girlfriend's coming home in three weeks."

"I just...I can't believe I never knew this and now that I finally do, you're just...going to walk away."

"I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can do. It's not like I have a lot of choices."

"You do," Kyle answers, and fuck, now he's holding Stan's arm in an entirely different way. "You have a choice."

"I can't. I love her."

"And me?"

Stan stares down at the ground. "Please, just let me go, Kyle. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have said anything or did anything and I fucked everything up and I'm so sorry but I can't. I'm supposed to marry her and have kids with her and take care of them while she wins big court cases. That's the plan and it's not just that everyone expects it, because I really do love her, Kyle, and I just can't do this."

"What am I supposed to do, knowing this?"

"I don't know. Find a new boyfriend?"

"Stan—"

"Someone else. Someone who isn't in love with Wendy Testaburger."

"But, Stan—"

"Kyle, please. Please don't do this to me."

"After what you did, I think I have every right to do this."

"No."

"Yes, I do," Kyle argues, and then fuck, he's got Stan pressed against the door and he's kissing him breathless.

"Get off of me."

"No. Remember? I wasn't allowed to argue with you. I told you not to do that and you did it anyway."

"That was different."

"Really fucking not."

"Kyle, please. Don't do this."

"What? Are you suddenly worried about being a cheat?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"This isn't right. Me and you. It's not right."

"Feels like it is."

"But it's not, so let me go and we'll pretend it never happened."

"No. I'm so fucking sick of pretending things didn't happen between me and you, especially since they keep happening."

"Kyle, please."

"Stan...just tell me you don't want this. And be fucking honest this time. I deserve that. Tell me you don't want to see where this goes."

"I...I have a girlfriend. And you're my best friend. Those two things aren't the same."

"Why couldn't they be? Why couldn't I be both?"

Kyle's voice is softer now, kinder than before. He's no longer demanding, but begging.

"Please, Stan. Give me three weeks. Just 'til Wendy comes back. And then you can make a decision."

"You can't ask me to decide between the two of you. It's not fair."

"Neither is dropping all of this on me and then trying to split," Kyle snaps.

"I won't choose between you. I won't."

"You already are, man. You could've spent the summer with porn and your left hand, but you didn't. You started hooking up with guys because you couldn't stop thinking about me. You've been picking me."

"Shut up," Stan growls.

"No. You shut up. You shut up and you kiss me and stop trying to pretend like you don't have feelings for me."

"I—"

"No. No arguing. If you really didn't want this, it would be different. I would back off. But you want it and you're too fucking stubborn to admit it."

"Kyle..."

But Kyle kisses him again and he feels weak in the knees as his lips part without him ever consciously giving them that command. It's not even an automatic response to being kissed, though he's pretty sure it's an automatic response to being kissed by Kyle.

"Kyle—"

"Shh. Just relax. Let me...let me do something for you."

"No."

"You've been letting other people, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"So why not me?"

"Because...fuck. Because it means something with you, Kyle. Fuck."

"I know," Kyle answers. "And that's why we should do this. Because it means something."

"Kyle—"

"Three weeks. That's all I'm asking for. Just give me three weeks."

"Kyle, I'm going to pick her. Even if this were...I'd still pick her."

"Why?"

"Because I love her and I have a future with her. So I'm going to pick her. You're just wasting your time and making it hurt worse. Please let me just leave."

"You really mean that, don't you? You'd really pick her, no matter how good this was."

"Yes," Stan says firmly. "I'm sorry. But I love her and she's my future and pretending otherwise is only going to hurt us both."

"What about me and you? We could have a future."

"Kyle...that's...fuck. Look. I love her, I'm going to have a family with her, and I'm going to support her. Why would I turn my back on that?"

Kyle looks him straight in the eye and says, "Because you love me."

"I love her."

"More than me?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. But she's my choice and pretending otherwise for three weeks is only going to make it worse."

"Why are you doing this? Why even bother trying any of this if you're just going to go back to her? Why would you waste your summer hooking up with guys...why would you even hook up with me? Why bother?"

"Because he hurt you!" Stan yells. "Because that asshole got to be with you and didn't appreciate it or treat you right. Because he was a jerk who said awful things about your cock and they're not true, Kyle. They're not. It's a perfect cock and it's attached to a perfect guy and he hurt you and I couldn't stand knowing you were hurting. And I'm sorry. I fucked everything up and I'm sorry, but I still choose her."

"Then you're insane," Kyle says bluntly. "If that's the truth, then you're fucking insane."

"Why? For being with someone I love?"

"For being with someone you love less than you love me," Kyle says. "Listen to yourself. Because he hurt me? When was the last time you got that pissed over someone calling Wendy a know-it-all? Or making fun of the fact that she's got the smallest tits of any girl in our class? Or anything?"

"I..."

"Stan, I just...don't understand why you'd do this to me."

"Because I'm just going to hurt you, Kyle."

"Then that's my decision, isn't it?"

"No. Not when I'm the one who has to feel guilty over it."

"Stop. Just shut the fuck up and stop acting like you're the only one who'll get hurt over this. Look, if you give me the three weeks and still don't change your mind, then I won't fight anymore. That's fair, isn't it? I know I could end up hurt and I'm deciding to do it anyway because it's worth it to me. So just shut up and give me a chance."

Stan opens his mouth to argue—how he doesn't know—but fuck, Kyle knows how to make his brain stop thinking and he's being kissed again, pushed so hard against the wall he feels like he might fall through it.

And he can't fight it anymore. Not now. Maybe he'll be able to convince Kyle to stop this later, but for right now, that's it, he's done for.

Kyle spins them around and backs Stan up towards his bed, pushing him down onto it and staring down at him as Stan props himself up on his elbows.

"What are you going to do?"

"Pay you back. Why?"

"I just..."

"Fine. You're nervous. I get it. But please, just let me."

Fuck. Like there's a way to say no to that?

Stan nods and lets Kyle tug his jeans down, then completely off. Stan left Kyle's jeans on before, but okay. Whatever.

"Who all's done this to you?" Kyle asks as he settles himself between Stan's knees.

"Huh? Oh. Uh. Why do you want to know?"

"Curious."

"Wendy. Butters. Kenny. Two guys from North Park."

Kyle shakes his head. "You've had a busy summer."

"I'm sorry."

"You wanted to show me you were better than Justin, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm better than them," Kyle says and then, okay, yeah. His best friend is sucking him off and Stan may possibly die.

"Fuck," he gasps, and Kyle lets another inch of Stan's cock into his mouth in response.

It's not necessarily that it feels better than any other blowjob he's ever had. It's pretty standard as far as blowjobs go. Not better, but not worse, either, just...usual. But it's Kyle. When Stan looks down, he sees Kyle's thick, curly red hair and when he brushes that way, he can see Kyle's eyes, looking right up at him, gaze locked on Stan's. He can see Kyle's lips, swollen, red, and stretched around his cock and yeah. Officially the best blowjob he's ever gotten, hands down.

"Kyle—" he starts, but what's the end of that sentence, really? There isn't one.

Kyle pulls his mouth off of Stan's cock and replaces it with his hand, a slow, steady rhythm that's going to drive Stan crazy if he keeps it up.

"Has anyone ever put their fingers in you?" Kyle asks.

Stan swallows roughly. "Yes."

"Wendy? The boys?"

"The boys."

"Have you ever gone all the way?"

"With the boys or Wendy?"

"Both."

"Yeah," Stan answers. A few times with Wendy. Once with a boy."

"When?"

"Last week. Went to North Park. Didn't really care who it was. Just...fuck. I just wanted it over with, Kyle. Didn't care which way it was, just...wanted it to be a guy."

"Did you like it?"

"No. It hurt."

Kyle nods.

"Why? Are you gonna?"

Kyle shakes his head. "Not now. Just...curious. Wish you'd have waited, though."

"For you?"

"Yeah. You mind if I...with my fingers, though?"

Stan shakes his head. "If you want."

Kyle sucks two of fingers between his lips, removing them only when they're shiny and spit-slick. He eases one of them into Stan before sucking him again, then crooks it against his prostate. Fuck. Yeah.

He knew that was supposed to happen, that there was something in there that felt good. And the guy he'd let fuck him just...hadn't found it. Not once.

Stan's back arches and Kyle eases him back down with his free hand before carefully pushing his second finger inside and Christ, that actually feels better than with just one.

"You okay?" Kyle asks.

"Yeah. Fuck. That's—"

"Did he even try to make it good for you?"

Stan shrugs. "I don't know. It hurt too much to really notice if he was trying or not."

Kyle sighs. "I'd have made it good for you. You know that? I would've."

"I know."

Kyle kisses his inner thigh before licking his way up the vein on the underside of Stan's cock, back to the head. His lips are tight around Stan's cock and honestly, Stan wishes he could just not come so this could last forever.

"Kyle—fuck—"

Kyle rubs against that spot inside him again and between that and Kyle's lips around him, he comes hard, like his entire world has dissolved down into just Kyle's fingers inside him and his mouth around him and oh, fuck, this is leading no where good, but Christ.

By the time his brain stops doing the hokey pokey in his skull, Kyle is beside him, carefully not touching him but clearly wanting to, and yeah. They're doing this. They really are.

"Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

There aren't words for how okay he is, so Stan kisses him, digging his tongue into Kyle's mouth and tasting himself.

"That's a lot of okay," Kyle murmurs.

"What now?" Stan asks.

"Dunno. Think you can borrow your parents' car tonight?"

"Mom's going grocery shopping this evening after work, but I can probably get it tomorrow. Why?"

"Thought maybe we could drive up to North Park. Go on a date."

"A...date?"

"Yeah. Those things where two people talk and hang out together?"

"I...uh."

"They also sometimes end in sex."

"Oh. Right. Yeah."

"Do you not want to?"

"I just wasn't expecting it," Stan says. "But yeah. That's...good."

Kyle is quiet for a minute before he asks, "I uh, I saw you brought your backpack."

"Yeah, it's just some clothes. I didn't know if you wanted me to spend the night." He pauses, realizing that that has new implications now. "I...it's fine. I can go home."

Kyle bites his lip. "No. Stay."

"What?"

"We don't have to do anything, if you don't want. I just...you're my best friend. You should be able to sleep over. It's fine."

"We'll have to dig the air mattress out of your attic."

"You can sleep in my bed."

"But..."

"We won't do anything. I promise. I won't. I just...I only get three weeks, right? I want to know what it's like to do that."

Stan stares at him. "I don't know if that's a good idea, Kyle."

"Please? Just tonight. I won't ask again."

The idea of sharing a bed with anyone is scary, but the idea of doing it with Kyle...fuck. That's terrifying. That's trust and comfort and waking up next to someone and letting them see him at his worst, when his eyes are all glazed over from sleep and his hair is a mess and fuck knows what else. And yeah, they've had sleepovers before, but they've never slept together. The idea is, quite frankly, one of the scariest things Stan can think of at the moment.

But he says, "Okay," anyway. "What do we tell Ike? What if he sees us in bed together?"

"Knowing him, he'll roll his eyes at us and head off to one of his friends'," Kyle says, but then he frowns and become more serious. "I guess we tell him the truth. If you ask him not to tell anyone, he won't. He's not the kind of guy who blabs secrets."

"I know. I just...it's me and you, man."

"I know."

Stan sighs. "You know what the weird part is?"

"What?"

"I don't...want to move. I just want to stay here."

"With me?"

"Yeah."

"Stan..."

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. Let's just go downstairs and order a pizza. Mom and Dad left me and Ike enough money to feed ourselves for the weekend."

Stan nods. "I just...aren't you scared we might fuck this up?"

Kyle looks him right in the eye and answers, "Terrified," before climbing out of bed and heading downstairs.




Part 3

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