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myficsTitle: My Future's Bound [1/4]
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: South Park
Pairings: Stan/Kyle, 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. 8,652 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.
After the World of Warcraft phenomenon fades, hundreds of additional MMORPGs spring up, but the one that ends up winning out is...well, Stan can't even put into words what it is. It's called simply, "Life," and he thinks that it's reasonably analogous to the Matrix, wherein he and all the other people who log on are the machines, deciding what the world is like, and their characters are the human beings still jacked in.
That alone would be enough to make it the most popular game, but then there's also the fact that it allows you to control everything. It's like if The Sims met World of Warcraft and The Matrix and had a love child with better graphics and higher resolution.
Which is how he finds himself commanding his character—an accountant who pushes the numbers by day and a warrior who fights the forever un-named evil that seems to run through the game by night—to have sex with the Level-Five spell-caster in front of him, a tall redhead with deep blue eyes.
Of course, it's not like he can just command his character to have sex with her and it will happen. Her player has to respond favorably and agree to it. It would be weird the other way, like some kind of computer rape.
At any rate, her player agrees to the sex and their ISPs are connected so they can talk over their chat lines.
"Hey," he says, careful to keep his voice low and sexy. He's sixteen now but his voice still goes rogue on him sometimes, especially when he's trying to impress girls, which he thinks means it's more nerves than puberty leftovers.
"Hey," comes the reply, but it's not a girl like he expected. It's a male voice, and one that sounds familiar at that.
"Um," he says. He's never been good at this computer sex thing. "So, my character's name is Warlax."
"Mine's Sheena."
"Right. Good. So, Warlax is going to kiss Sheena and run his tongue across her lips."
He presses the right buttons to make his character do as he said, nodding in satisfaction when it happens.
"And Sheena is going to unbutton her blouse and let it fall to the ground."
On screen, the female does so, exposing computerized breasts. They're not sexy at all unless you're into pixels or something, but that's never been the point of the sex feature since it was installed. The point is this part, the chat line phone sex. That's why it became so popular. It's phone sex but without the guilt of admitting you actually want it. After all, it's just a function of the game and you're just talking it through with the person you're playing with.
"Warlax is going to kiss her breasts and—"
On and on it goes, step by step, undressing each other. Stan usually hates this part, but the voice on the other side of the chat line is different than he's used to and he finds himself oddly intrigued.
"Sheena's begging Warlax to fuck her," he says, and okay. Time to start controlling things with one hand.
He wraps his other hand around his cock and says, "Okay. So Warlax is going to fuck her now."
On screen, his character lifts the girl and holds her against the wall as he drives his cock up into her. On his chat line, the boy on the other end moans.
Stan hesitates before slipping into first person instead of his character's name. He's done this one or two times before, always with girls, and he's kind of nervous except that whoever this guy is—maybe he's quested with him before or something?—he's into it and Stan definitely is, too.
"I've got you pinned against the wall," he says, "and I'm fucking you hard, pulling you down onto my cock and slamming into you. And I'm kissing your neck, biting down and leaving a mark there. Everyone's gonna see it, too."
"God, Stan," the boy groans, and Stan freezes.
"How...how'd you know my name? I never said it. I don't use my real name on this game."
There's a pause before he answers. "I know you from school," he says.
Stan wracks his brain and comes up with cold realization. "Kyle?"
"Yeah."
"Holy shit, dude. You knew it was me and you let me say all that stuff?"
"Stan?"
"Yeah?"
"We're still fucking."
"What?" He glances back at the screen, where their characters are locked in a stalemate, fucking uselessly without any change. "Oh. Um. Warlax comes."
"He can't," Kyle says. "Not yet. And besides, you just gave me a hickey. There's got to be more after that."
"What?"
"You have to keep going," Kyle says. "Come on, dude. You can't just leave me hard up like this."
"You're...you're hard?"
"Aren't you?"
Stan glances down at his crotch and sighs. "Yeah."
"So keep going. You're fucking me. I've got a hickey. What happens next?"
This is his best friend. He's not supposed to be doing this. But Kyle's right. It would be stupid to stop at this point.
"Okay," he says. "Fuck, this is so weird. Okay. I'm fucking you and my cock's in your pu—in your—in you. My cock is in you. And I'm biting your neck and then I'm kissing your lips and nibbling on the bottom one. And then I run my fingers through your hair and down to the base of your neck and I'm pulling you to me, feel you up against me. Your cock is caught between us, rubbing against our stomachs and you're so hard. Hard as a fucking rock and you're loving it, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Kyle pants and Jesus tap dancing Christ on a stick, he's getting off on this. Of course, so is Stan, but still.
"Tell me."
"Fuck. I can feel you inside me," Kyle says, and Stan's stomach does a back flip. "And you're fucking me hard and you're so far inside me it feels like I'm gonna choke on you. And you keep rubbing against that spot that makes me see stars and I'm squeezing you, trying to make you come, and I'm kissing you so hard your lips are gonna bruise. I can feel you everywhere, Stan. Every fucking inch of me is on fire 'cause of you."
Stan closes his eyes and fuck, now he can see it, Kyle against a wall and himself holding him up, trapping him there and fucking him. He can practically feel Kyle around him instead of his own fist and there is something definitely wrong here, but he doesn't fucking care.
"Come on, Stan," Kyle whimpers. "Talk to me. You can't stop now."
"Are you close?"
"Yeah. So fucking close, man."
"Me, too."
"Then come."
"In you?"
"Yeah. Sure. In me. That works. Just come."
"Okay. So I'm fucking you and you feel so hot and tight and you're making the best little noises every time I slide against that spot. And I'm losing my rhythm and I can't even breathe and you keep begging me to come and I can't take it anymore, Kyle. I just can't fucking take it. It feels too good and—"
Kyle screams, "Fuck!" in his ear and he knows he's coming and goddamn that's hot. Stan follows him over the edge, still talking, still saying all that stuff that got Kyle off in the first place, and holy shit, he just got Kyle off.
And after so much talking, everything goes quiet.
He nervously cleans up and zips his pants back up, then silently enters the command for his character to come and waits while the two characters disengage.
He's about to disconnect their chat line since he has no fucking clue what to say, but Kyle tentatively says his name.
"Yeah?"
"I, uh. I didn't mean to freak you out. I thought you'd recognize my username."
Stan glances at it. BsktbllBrflvsk. Basketball, Kyle's favorite sport, and Broflovski, his last name. Oh.
"So you knew it was me and you agreed to sex anyway?"
"I thought you were agreeing to it."
"I wouldn't—I don't do that with boys," he says. "What...do you?" Things go quiet again and Stan tries to deal with that. "Oh. I uh, I didn't know, man."
"About me or about you?"
"What? There's nothing to know about me."
"You kept doing it."
"Yeah, because you asked me to."
"You could've said no," Kyle points out.
"I know, but...I mean, fuck, I was hard and you were hard and it was just talking."
"Yeah, about you having your cock inside me."
Stan feels sick. "You're the one who decided to play a fucking girl," he accuses.
"It never bothered you on Warcraft."
"On Warcraft it didn't fucking matter because we couldn't have sex!" Stan shouts, then lowers his voice and groans. "Fuck. We just had sex. Or phone sex. Or something. Oh, God."
"Stan, calm down. It's not that big of a deal."
"It is to me."
"Stan..."
"Just...stop, Kyle. Just fucking stop, okay? That was seriously fucked up, even for us."
"It's not like it really happened. We were just talking."
"Talking. Right. Usually when we talk, I don't end up with come all over my keyboard."
"You came that hard?"
"What the fuck does it matter, Kyle?"
"It's just kind of...hot. That's all."
Stan groans. "This never happened, okay? Just forget about it."
"But—"
"No," Stan says firmly. "Didn't happen."
Kyle sighs. "Okay. Fine. I'm sorry. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
Fuck. Stan hadn't even gotten around to thinking about having to see Kyle tomorrow.
"Yeah. Right," Stan answers. "See ya around."
It's not like he plans on it or anything, but when he wakes up nauseated the next morning, he seizes upon it as an excuse not to go to school. His mom fusses over him until he convinces her to go to work, and then he's left home alone with nothing to do but try to ignore what happened.
He's pretty sure if he lets himself deal with what happened, he'll realize something life-changing and he desperately doesn't want that to happen. So. He ignores it.
Unfortunately, there's only so much ignoring he can do when Kyle shows up at his doorstep as soon as school lets out, two full hours before his parents get off work, and fuck, now they're alone together in a house filled with walls and all kinds of other surfaces and what the fuck?
"What are you doing here?" he asks, slamming the door shut behind them.
"I came to bring you your homework," Kyle says. "And to talk."
"No," Stan says flatly. "We're not talking about that."
"Stan, we can't just pretend it didn't happen."
"Yes, we can. Look. Here I go. Are you watching?" He stares blankly at Kyle for an entire minute and a half before he adds, "There. See?"
"Stan," Kyle says angrily. "Come on. You can't fucking ignore this."
"Do you need the demonstration again?"
Kyle growls at him, actually fucking growls in frustration, and demands, "Can't we just talk about it? I'm not asking you to do it again, for fuck's sake. Just talk to me."
Stan crosses his arms across his chest stoically. "I'm not talking about it because it didn't happen. Remember? We said it didn't happen."
"Yeah, but it did," Kyle insists. "And you got off on it and so did I and that means we need to ta—"
"Goddamn it, shut the fuck up," Stan yells. "Just shut the fucking fuck up, Kyle."
"No, you shut up," Kyle counters. "I can't believe you're reacting like this, Stan. I thought that you, of all people—"
"What? Me of all people what?"
"I thought you wouldn't be so fucking judgemental," Kyle snaps. "After fucking everything, man. You don't care that Sparky's gay. And I've been your best friend since before pre-school. So what the fuck, man?"
"I don't care about you," Stan says. "I care about me."
"What?"
"You can be gay all you want," Stan says. "But I have a girlfriend."
"You got off once because of something a guy said," Kyle says. "That doesn't make you anything."
"Whatever, okay? I have a girlfriend."
"Yeah, you said that, but you can't hide behind Wendy. You're supposed to be my best friend."
"Best friends don't do that."
"Oh, for God's sake."
"What?"
"Stan, it was one time, okay? We said shit. We both got off. It's not like you went down on me or something. And for the record, even what we were saying? You were fucking me—"
"Stop."
"No. It's not like you were fantasizing about getting fucked. Could've been a girl you were fucking. What's it matter? Okay? So will you calm the fuck down?"
"Dude...look, whatever," Stan says. "Okay? I'm done talking about it."
"No," Kyle says angrily. "You're my best friend and I'm not letting you do this to me."
"Oh, but you were fine with letting me do that to you."
"Dude, it was virtual reality. It doesn't fucking count."
"You weren't getting off on the computer screen and you know it," Stan snaps. "You were getting off on...on me. My voice. What I was saying."
"And so were you."
"Which is exactly the problem."
"There's no fucking problem," Kyle yells.
He stops and stares at Stan, letting silence hang in the air.
"I'm sorry," Kyle says finally. "It's just really fucking frustrating."
"I just...don't...that's never happened to me before."
"Well...I mean...dude, I've gotten off with girls before. Bebe went down on me last year on the football field after homecoming. I'm still gay. So what if this happened? You're still whatever you were before. Doesn't change anything."
Stan shrugs. "I guess. So...um. You are, then? For sure?"
"Gay?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Kyle leans against the door and sighs. "Never seemed like the right time, I guess. Why?"
"Dude, you're my best friend. You think I wouldn't want to know?"
"I'm sorry. Look, can we just...move on? I can't pretend it didn't happen, Stan. I'm sorry. I can't ignore it. But it doesn't matter like you think it does, either. You're my best friend. Can we just...be best friends again?"
Stan nods. "Yeah. I guess."
"Can you at least look at me?"
Stan sighs and looks up, meets Kyle's eyes. "I'm sorry. I just...I'm freaked out."
"I know. And I'm sorry. If I thought you'd react like this, I wouldn't have done it. I just thought...you're my best friend, you know? I don't want you to start hating me over one mistake."
"I don't hate you."
"You still love me?"
Stan nods slowly. "Yeah. Platonically."
"I can live with that."
Stan nods. "Thanks for bringing me my homework."
"Want me to stay and help you with the math?"
"You don't mind?"
"It's just trig."
"Ugh," Stan says. "Yeah. Stay."
Kyle nods and by the time Stan has figured out the purpose of the sine function of his calculator, he actually feels like things are on their way back to normal.
***
Homeroom the next morning is something of a disaster, Stan thinks. Everyone is gathered, waiting for Mr. Garrison to arrive, and Kyle gives Stan a significant look before standing in front of the room and clearing his throat.
"Hi. Uh, so I'm gay. Great. Good morning."
Stan is staring at Kyle, torn between smacking him on the head for giving Cartman more ammunition, and patting him on the back for being one of the bravest people Stan knows.
Of course, that's when Mr. Garrison walks in the room and shouts, "Faggot!" at Kyle and everyone gasps.
"Dude," Cartman says. "That is not cool. You're a teacher. Also? I was supposed to get to call him that first."
"Haven't I made sure to tell you children over the years that homosexuals' hearts do not pump blood like yours and mine, but a viscous, black fluid made of pure evil?"
"I hate fags and even I know that's not true," Cartman says, shaking his head. "And Kyle? You're a Jewfag."
"Shut the fuck up," Stan and Kyle chorus in unison.
"Boys, language," Mr. Garrison snaps.
"You just called me a faggot and you're telling us—" Kyle says.
"Do you want a referral?" Mr. Garrison asks. "Now everybody sit down."
As soon as Garrison starts taking roll, Stan leans over to Kyle's desk and says, "Dude."
"I told my parents and Ike last night," Kyle says with a shrug. "I knew they'd take it okay. Mom went to join PFLAG this morning. Like she really needs another cause. She says she's going to make me a t-shirt that says 'feygeleh' on it in rainbow colors. She thinks it's being supportive. Honestly. Like she really needed another cause, you know?"
"What about your dad and Ike?"
"Ike gave me a hug and said, 'I can still ask Stan for girl advice, right?'" Stan grins. "And dad just got a bit flustered at first but he'll be okay. You were the only person I cared about telling. So I just figured...I want to be able to date like everyone else, so I might as well out myself at school. And I did. So...it's all cool now."
Stan nods. "Who are you wanting to date?"
"Well, I was thinking...Butters and Kenny are on the outs right now, you know? And normally I wouldn't think about doing it to Butters, but Kenny doesn't care who he sleeps with. So as long as they're broken up...why not, you know? I mean, if they were still together...Kenny fucks everyone anyway, but I wouldn't want to add to it. But...anyway. Just thought I'd give it a try."
"Why not just date Butters?"
Kyle laughs. "Good one, dude."
"I'm serious. Like you said, Kenny sleeps with everyone. Do you really want to catch any of the things he probably has?"
"It's South Park, dude. STDs aren't that rampant."
"Kyle, seriously. It's just a game of odds. Better to date Butters. He's only been with Kenny and that Dougie guy."
That had been the weirdest month Stan could ever remember having and if he never had to walk in on Butters and Dougie going at it in the boys' room dressed in tin foil costumes again, it would be too soon.
"Yeah, but technically, if Butters has been with Kenny, then he's been with everyone Kenny's been with, so...just as bad, dude."
For some reason, the idea of Kyle hooking up with Kenny bothers Stan, despite the fact that Kyle has a very good point.
"Well...at least Butters wouldn't be sleeping around on you."
Kyle shrugs. "Wouldn't bother me. I'm not exactly looking for my one true love here, you know. Not everyone meets their soul mate in the third grade."
Stan's stomach flips for inexplicable reasons and he shrugs without really looking at Kyle. "Okay," he says. "If you're sure."
He wants to tell Kyle he's being stupid, but he doesn't really have any grounds for that, so. Whatever. So two of his friends are going to be fucking. So Kenny will probably be doing the things he described on the chat line to Kyle and getting him to make that noise that had made Stan come all over his keyboard. Fine. Whatever. Not his business. He's supposed to be the supportive best friend, so. That's what he'll be.
***
Stan's parents won't buy him a car and he can't afford one on his own, but they do let him borrow theirs sometimes on Friday nights, which is good because Fridays are his date nights with Wendy. They see each other every day at school, of course, and sometimes afterwards in the evenings, but Wendy had made the point that they'd been together off and on—mostly on, but a little off—since they were 8, so literally half their lives. Romance, she said, tends to die after that much time together, and so they had agreed that every Friday, they'd go on a date, a real, honest-to-God date, and keep the romance alive.
Of course, when you're sixteen and in a town as small as South Park, there aren't exactly a lot of ways to be romantic, so most of their dates end up being to places like the bowling alley or the arcade. Wendy swears she doesn't mind and that it's the effort that counts.
That's one of the best things about Wendy. She gives him credit for things. Stan's seen Kenny with girls who spent all their time telling him what was wrong with him, but Wendy's never done that, so. Stan's pretty sure she's some kind of amazing.
Tonight they're going to the movies, some flick starring Ashton Kutcher in a part he's undoubtedly too old to play, and his dad's car is wheezing its way along Main Street.
"Bebe's coming over tomorrow to help me fill out college applications," Wendy tells him. It had taken a long time to repair their friendship after what had happened on the school roof when they were kids, but they're back to being friends now and both seem pretty happy about it.
"Applications? We're sophomores."
"For practice," she tells him. "Never too early to start practicing your essay to get into Harvard."
Stan nods. "Makes sense."
"What about you? Any plans?"
"I think Kyle's coming over. He's been trying to avoid his house ever since he came out. His mom's gone kind of overboard with the supporting and stuff."
Wendy smiles. "It was very brave of him to come out to the whole class. Mr. Garrison shouldn't have said that."
Stan shrugs. "Kyle doesn't care. He knows Garrison's...you know. Anyway. We'll probably hang out some."
"You're a good friend, Stan," she says, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
The movie sucks, but Stan didn't really have high hopes for it, anyway. But afterwards...that's his favorite part.
Of course he loves Wendy and he loves her mind, but he's a sixteen-year-old boy and he has a steady girlfriend who subscribes to the idea that being a feminist means that she's free to choose and follow her desires, and luckily for him, her desires happen to lead her to him.
They don't usually go all the way. They have twice, once on her birthday and then again on Valentine's Day this past year. The first time, she'd just said, "I'm sixteen, I'm old enough to make my own decisions about intercourse, and I want to just get this over with. I'm on the pill, here's a condom and some spermicidal lubricant," and that had been their first time. The second time, she'd said it was a special occasion and promised to do it again on his birthday.
But mostly, they just stick to oral sex, since Wendy doesn't want to get pregnant and ruin her chances at Harvard. He doesn't really mind and she doesn't seem to either, but for some reason, tonight he just feels...like he needs more.
He's never asked her for it. He's maybe once or twice tried to make a move, but if and when she rejects his advances, he's always backed off. Of course he wants more sex, but by his reckoning, all the positives that come out of his relationship with Wendy, not just sexual but just plain being around her, far outweigh having to jack off a little more often than usual.
"Wendy?" he asks between kisses in the backseat of his parents' car.
"Yeah?"
"Can we...um, can we do it?"
Well. Yeah. That was romantic.
She stares at him for a minute before answering, "You know I don't want to get pregnant."
"I know," he answers. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to..." He shrugs. "Be with you that way. But it's okay. We don't have to."
She smiles. "Well your birthday isn't for another month and Valentines was all the way back in February...I guess we can, just this once. But be careful, okay?"
"Yeah," he promises. "And I'll get you that pill, you know? The morning after whatever?"
She nods, seemingly satisfied, and allows him to unbutton her top. It's not as cold as it could be yet, but even September in Colorado is chilly, and her nipples are erect against her bra. Not being able to have full-on sex very often has taught him the importance of all the other stuff, the foreplay and all, and he lowers his lips to the fabric of her bra—cotton, just like always because Wendy is nothing if not practical—and sucks the peaks of her nipples.
Her fingers wind through his hair, encouraging, and he unhooks her bra with the kind of familiarity that reminds him that she's been letting him take her top off since the eighth grade and wow, that feels like forever ago.
Her breasts have always been on the small side, nothing like Bebe's, but he likes them that way. He can take them in his hands or in his mouth and make her gasp, buck her hips toward his. He likes that, being able to watch her lose her control and know that he caused it.
Her skirt gets flipped up and her panties get tugged down just enough to give him access. It's cold, they're in a car, and sure, no one ever comes up here, but still. It'd just be stupid to completely undress for sex in a car.
His jeans get pushed down past his hips and he digs the condom out of his wallet. He keeps it there because he's a boy in a steady relationship and he figures it's expected, though he's had that same one in there since the beginning of the summer and it's just now being used.
She helps him get it on—more like she does it herself because she insists on taking every precaution and he knows she's afraid he'll do it wrong—and guides him to her, tightening her arms around his neck as he starts to push. She frowns and shifts, then nods and whispers for him to try again, and this time he sinks in much easier.
"Jesus," he groans, and she chuckles all soft and sweet.
"Mmm. Go slow at first, okay?"
He nods and moves gently, careful not to do anything that could hurt her. The first time they'd done this, she had almost cried and the second time, he'd been too afraid of hurting her again to really get into it at first. It had only been when she promised him she was enjoying it that he could really let himself go.
So he goes slow and careful until she encourages him to do more, promising him that she's fine, really, and she loves him but if he really thinks he's got something so big that it'll hurt her every single time, then he's deluded.
And he laughs, right there in the middle of sex, because fuck, she's got to be the perfect girl. She just has to be.
"Love you," he tells her, and she nods, silent acknowledgement that she knows he really does.
He figures he's lucky like that. Most girls would think he was only saying it for sex. But not Wendy. Wendy knows.
And if he fumbles during sex, she doesn't mind, either. She never laughs unless he's already laughing, too, always encourages him to try again. And she's so soft—soft curves, soft lips, soft skin, and yeah. He's lucky.
He likes to get her off before he comes. It makes him feel like a gentleman. He supposes that's crazy, but he always feels like he's done right by her if he's made sure she's had a good time.
It's hard, though, when they do it like this. She feels so fucking good that it's just...hard to keep himself in check. Still, he tries, fingers circling her clit and lips wrapped around her nipples, biting, sucking, licking, encouraging her to let go.
He still comes before her. But she gives him credit for trying and he manages to bring her off with his tongue a few minutes later.
He helps her get re-dressed and offers her his coat to warm her back up, turns on the heater and lets her get herself settled before he gives her a ride home. She holds his hand the whole way and he thanks her for letting him have that even though it wasn't a special occasion.
She just smiles and says, "Girls like sex, too, Stan. If I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant..." She shrugs. "I had a nice time tonight."
"Yeah. Me, too."
***
Homecoming comes at the end of October and Stan finds himself pretty much the only boy able to relax. He gets the desperation to find a date; last year, he and Wendy had broken up the week before homecoming and he'd panicked at the thought of finding a date. Luckily, they made up within a few days and have been together ever since, but there for awhile, the prospect had been scary.
Still, he he's pretty sure Clyde is making an ass of himself by sending Lola a new pair of shoes every day in the week leading up to the dance, hoping that she'll say yes. She does, eventually, but that's besides the point.
Butters tells everyone who'll listen that he's going stag by choice, but Stan's pretty sure that means he and Kenny will be spending the evening unofficially together. That is, until Wendy informs him that they'll be doubling with Kenny and Bebe, who are, apparently, going together.
He tries to talk to Kenny and Butters about it, but neither of them seem to want to talk about it. On the other hand, they both seem to be in good moods, so maybe they do know what they're doing.
And for the most part, people sort of fall together. Craig's taking Rebecca, Timmy's taking Annie, Token will be taking Nelly, and in a move that surprises exactly no one, Bill decides to take Fosse. Most people seem to find a date easily, and Stan supposes that comes from knowing each other their whole lives. In fact, the only two boys whose dates he doesn't know yet are Cartman's (like anyone would go with him anyway) and Kyle's.
And God, he's dying to know who Kyle's taking.
"Come on," Stan says over lunch one day. "Just tell us. Who're you bringing?"
"Yes. Please tell us who you've convinced to fuck your dirty Jew asshole," Cartman says. "Do go on, Kyle."
"At least I can get someone to fuck me you fat piece of shit," Kyle snaps, then seems to reconsider his comment and adds hastily, "if I wanted them to."
"Do you not want Cartman to hear?" Stan asks. "Just tell me, dude. Whisper it."
"You'll find out at the dance, all right?" Kyle says. "Why's it matter?"
"Dude, are you ashamed of this guy or something?"
Kyle rolls his eyes. "Fine. His name is Justin and he's on the academic decathlon team for Middle Park. I met him two weeks ago when I was competing against him."
"So you're bringing a boy from another school to our homecoming? No wonder you're ashamed of him. Seriously, Kyle. I think that's treason against South Park."
"Yeah, but South Park sucks," Kyle points out. "So it's fine."
He's teasing, and Stan knows it, knows Kyle's been there for every game Stan's ever played in and has cheered him on faithfully, but for some reason, this particular time, it bothers him.
"No, we don't. We're a lot better than fucking Middle Park."
Kyle looks a little surprised at him, but shrugs. "Just a joke, dude. Lighten up. Anyway, now that you guys know, can we just drop it?"
"Yes," Cartman says. "Everyone who thinks we should move on from talking about Kyle having nerdy buttsex, raise your hand."
"Do you see why I didn't want to talk about it?" Kyle says.
Stan shrugs. "Fine. Whatever. Let's talk about something else. Who cares about fucking homecoming, anyway?"
"How about we talk about—" Cartman pulls out his computer and shows them all several charts and graphs, "who I'm going with? Now, as you can see, I have divided the girls in our class up by looks, intelligence, and socio-economic status. There are also indicators for whether or not these girls are dirty, stinking hippies. Girl's gonna have to be hot to get to go with me if she's a tree-hugger. So. Allowing the idea that maybe I couldn't steal these girls away from their current dates—though I could, they're just not worth the waste of time and effort—there are five possible candidates left to be my date to homecoming. Patty, Sally, Millie, Heidi, and Mandy. So, gentlemen, let's get to work. We have exactly fifty-six hours to decide who I will be going to homecoming with. The clock is ticking. Let's move out."
"Move out to what?" Butters asks.
"To interrogate these girls and see if they're good enough for me. Do I have to explain everything to you guys? Let's get a move on, gentlemen. Time's a-wasting."
"What if we don't want to help inflict you upon some poor, innocent girl?" Kyle asks.
"Then you're just a sandy vagina, aren't you, Kyle?" Cartman asks. "Yeah, you heard me right, Kyle. You're a sandy vagina. Not you have a sandy vagina. You are a sandy vagina. That's how much of a pussy you are."
"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to kick your ass so hard—"
"Yes, you make your idle threats," Cartman taunts. "Try to strike me down. But we all know fags can't throw a punch. Your threats are useless, Kyle. You can't do a damn thing to me and—"
He gets cut off by the sound of a thunking noise under the table.
Everyone looks to see what caused the noise except, Stan notices, for Kyle. Kyle's doesn't look at all. He just smirks triumphantly across the table at Cartman.
"My balls," Cartman squeaks, and then he falls over off his chair with a thud.
"That wasn't a punch," Kyle says with a note of finality.
"Some days, I think you're a really great guy, Kyle," Token says.
"Aw, geez," Butters laments. "Eric's gonna be awful sore. Why'd you have to go and kick him in the balls, Kyle?"
"Butters, you of all people should get it," Kyle says firmly.
"Yeah, but the balls?"
Kyle shrugs, clearly content with his decision.
So two days later, Stan finds himself climbing out of a car with Wendy, Bebe, and Kenny, on his way into the homecoming dance.
Wendy looks beautiful and he's told her that already more times than he can count, but he tells her one more time to make sure she really knows.
But once they get inside, he's searching the room for all his friends. Butters is off to the side with Dougie, and Stan really hopes they're not starting that back up again. It was creepy.
Cartman is on the other side of the room, glaring at everyone and looking murderous. But Kyle is nowhere to be found.
"Something wrong?" Wendy asks.
"I was just looking for Kyle and his date."
She nods. "Maybe they're just not here, yet."
"You don't think they got here and Garrison kicked them out, do you?"
"If he did, it's a breach of school policy and—"
But whatever else it might be, Stan doesn't hear because that's the moment Kyle walks into the gym with Justin, his date, at his side.
"Oh, there they are," Wendy says. "We should go say hi."
Truthfully, Stan doesn't really want to. It's still too weird to see Kyle with a boy and think about him doing those things they talked about on the chat line. Not really because of the gay thing, because it's never bothered him with Butters and Kenny, but just...he said those things to Kyle and now someone else might be doing them. It's just weird.
"Oh, hey," Kyle says when Wendy's dragged him over. "Guys, this is Justin. Justin, this is my best friend Stan and his girlfriend, Wendy."
"Hi," Justin says, and offers his hand.
He has a firm grip and a steady voice, and he and Kyle look far too comfortable with each other.
"Hi," Wendy says cheerfully.
"Yeah, hi," Stan says. "Uh—"
What's he supposed to say? There can't possibly be protocol for this situation.
"You guys want to dance?" Wendy asks, and starts leading them all onto the dance floor. Stan can dance fine, he guesses, while Wendy's not half bad, and Kyle's always been decent. But Justin? Holy fuck, Justin can move. Geeks aren't supposed to be able to move like that and Jesus, now he's got pictures in his head, flashing images of Kyle and Justin moving like that together, all naked and sweaty.
He shakes his head and gives an apologetic smile to Wendy, who's staring up at him with a confused look on her face. Yeah. He's sorry. He's definitely sorry for what's going through his head right now. Sorry to her and sorry to himself as well. Hell, maybe even sorry to Kyle and Justin, too, because there's something kind of creepy and voyeuristic about thinking of them like this.
But still, the vision in his head persists and all he can see is Justin's long, thin fingers—piano player; he'd forgotten Kyle had mentioned that—winding through Kyle's hair or his pink lips attached to Kyle's neck, kissing him there. His blue eyes would stare into Kyle's hazel ones, and Justin's soft, short brown hair would look interesting next to Kyle's thick, red curls.
He takes a few deep breaths and fixes his eyes back on Wendy, trying not to think about the weird thoughts he's having lately and what they could possibly mean. Who cares what they mean? Doesn't matter, anyway. Kyle's with Justin and he's with Wendy and that's how it should be.
Half an hour later, he asks Wendy if she wants something to drink and breaks away from the group to head to the refreshment table, hoping that the punch is spiked. Kyle follows him, leaving Wendy and Justin to dance together, and asks, "So? What do you think?"
"Huh?"
"About Justin. He's cute, right?"
"Sure."
"And funny," Kyle adds. "Did you hear him telling the one about the binomial?"
"Yeah."
Kyle frowns. "Something wrong?"
Stan shrugs. "Nope."
"Did something happen with Wendy? You and Kenny fight on the way here? What, dude?"
Stan shrugs. "Nothing. It's fine. Let's get back out there."
"No, dude, something's wrong."
"Kyle, I swear, nothing's wrong. I'm fine, Kenny's fine, Wendy's fine, you're fine, and Justin is fine. Let's just get back out there, all right?"
"Fine. But you've been weird lately and I want to talk about it later, all right?"
Stan shrugs. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."
It turns out the punch is spiked, so most people are more than ready to head to Clyde's house for the after party when the dance starts to wind down. Wendy agrees to go on the condition that she has to be home by one AM, and so Stan finds himself in a group of Kenny, Bebe, Butters, Kyle, Justin, Wendy, and himself as they all head out towards Clyde's.
His parents are out of town, so they have pretty much the entire house, and Stan's pretty sure Clyde's going to be grounded for at least a month after this. But judging from the fact that his date is half-drunk and hanging off his arm like she wants nothing more than to throw him down and fuck him, Stan's pretty sure Clyde isn't going to mind being grounded for this.
When Stan's had a couple of beers, he gets up the nerve to ask Wendy to come upstairs with him. Homecoming is technically a special occasion, but since his birthday was less than two weeks ago, he's not sure she'll want to again. Which is fine, really. He just wants some time alone with her, that's all.
He opens the first bedroom door he comes to and pulls her inside, laughing as he stumbles to find the light switch. He immediately wishes he'd just left the damn thing off.
Kyle and Justin are on the bed, shirtless with their pants undone, kissing furiously. Justin's hands are on Kyle's shoulders and Kyle's are clutching Justin's hips. It takes a moment before they seem to register that they've got company, then they jerk away from each other and stare.
"Uh." It's Kyle who speaks first and his voice sounds loud in the quiet of the room. "Hi."
"Sorry," Wendy says, and fuck, she's always been the most together person he knows. "We'll just head on down the hall. Don't let us bother you."
She starts pulling Stan back out, but he can't take his eyes off them. Justin had been straddling Kyle's hips and rocking against him and does Kyle like that? Does he like it when the other guy takes charge? Of course he does. That's what he liked that day on the chat line, wasn't it?
Christ, he's got to stop thinking about this. He's obsessing over something he has no right to be obsessing about.
Wendy pulls him down the hall and into a different, less-occupied room, but his mind is still back in the last one, still thinking about the dip of Kyle's hip as it disappears under his pants.
Stan doesn't know what the big deal is. He's seen Kyle naked before, lots of times. Their school still has group showers for gym class and they've been in there at the same time almost every day since they had to start changing for gym. But this is different. This is Kyle naked and being...sexual, and now it's stuck in Stan's head.
"You okay?" Wendy asks.
"Yeah," he answers. "Hey, um, you know, it's a special occasion..."
"I know," she agrees. "And I have a surprise for you."
"You do?"
"Well, you played so well in the game that I thought you deserved a little something for all that hard work."
He tilts his head in confusion, and that's the moment Wendy slides the straps of her dress off her arms and lets it pool at her feet.
He has no idea where she got her underwear, but it's not her usual practical cotton. It's black lace and it's barely there anyway, and all he can do is stare at her.
"Surprise," she whispers.
She looks uncomfortable, like she doesn't know what to do now, and asks, "Is it...does it look okay?"
"Okay? Okay? Christ, Wendy. You look...amazing."
"Yeah?"
He nods and carefully traces the top edge where the lace meets the skin of her breasts with one finger, entranced.
"You...um. You want to?" she asks.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Fuck, Wendy..."
She smiles. "And we actually get to do it in a real bed this time."
"Yeah."
She gently nudges him onto the bed on his back and tugs his pants off before settling herself across his thighs. And isn't this what Kyle and Justin were doing? Is that why she's doing this? Does she think he wants—fuck.
He rolls them over and kisses her neck, moving down to her breasts. There's a tiny clasp in the front and he works at it with his teeth, trying to unhook it, but he finally gives up and just uses his fingers instead.
"Wendy—"
"It's fine," she promises. "Took me forever to get it on earlier. All this lacy stuff..." She shrugs. "I thought it looked nice, though."
"It does," he promises. "You look gorgeous."
"I do?"
"Incredibly sexy."
She smiles. "You're so sweet."
"Yeah?"
She nods and he lets her flip them back over.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
She rubs against him, little movements that he can tell are turning her on.
"I want to try it this way," she says. "Just to see. Is that okay?"
He nods. "Yeah. Sure. Anything."
She smiles and pulls his boxers down enough to free his cock, retrieves a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on him carefully.
He reaches for her hips, but she stops him, just pulls her panties to the side enough to sink down on him and Jesus tap-dancing Christ, he might die.
He stares up at he as she rides his cock, watches her face flush with pleasure. She's beautiful. Not just tonight but all the fucking time and he's the luckiest guy in the world to be her boyfriend.
Which is why he thinks he's also the biggest jerk in the world when he closes his eyes and instead of thinking of her, all that comes to mind is Kyle. Kyle, naked. Kyle flushed and gorgeous. Kyle. Riding his cock.
"Jesus," he shouts, and the only reason he doesn't come that very second is that he opens his eyes and sees her staring down at him, confused and maybe a little hurt.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "Uh, it was...never mind. I'm good now."
She nods and then she's moving again, slow little movements that send sparks up his spine.
But there's still that image of Kyle at the front of his mind and he wonders how Kyle would do this. Wendy is rocking slowly against him, just barely moving to the outside observer. But he can feel her moving so much more than that, her muscles tightening around him and making him see stars.
Is that what Kyle would do? Could Kyle even do that? Stan's not really sure how...well, how it works. Or would Kyle ride him like he's seen girls do in pornos? Would he gasp and moan and make lots of noises or be more quiet like Wendy?
Why does Stan fucking care?
When he comes, he's chanting her name, but all he sees in his head is Kyle, and he has no fucking clue what that means other than it's something he needs to think about.
***
"Hey, Kenny?" Stan asks.
"Mmph?"
"Um. You're...bisexual, right?"
"Mmph-hmm."
"How does that...how's that work? Do you just wake up every day with a craving for one or the other, or...?"
"Mmmph—"
"Can you take your hood off, please? Just for a minute?"
Kenny rolls his eyes and loosens it enough to tuck it underneath his chin so he can talk.
"No, it's more like...just...both. Usually." He shrugs. "Not that every now and then I don't want one more than the other, but...most days...anyway. Why're you asking?"
"Just wondering," Stan shrugs. "I mean...Kyle just likes guys and I...just like girls, but you like both, so...just curious."
Kenny shrugs. "Okay."
Stan watches him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then asks, "So what's up with Butters?"
"What about him?"
"Well, you took Bebe to the dance. Was that a girl day?"
Kenny rolls his eyes. "I couldn't take Butters to the dance because his parents are dickheads. I asked him. He said—" and then he adopts a near-perfect imitation of Butters, "'Aw, shucks, Kenny. That's awful nice of you, but I don't reckon my parents would like it very much if I went to the dance with a boy. You're not sore, are ya?'"
"Sorry, man."
"'S okay. He had a good time with Dougie and me and him did our own kind of dancing at the after party."
"What about Bebe?"
"Went down on her before I went looking for him. Got her off but didn't come with her. Wanted to be ready for Butters."
Stan stares.
"Dude, give me that look all you want, that guy is crazy in bed."
Stan continues to stare.
"Whatever. Ain't nobody ever rode my dick like he does, but...you go ahead with the disbelieving."
"Right."
Kenny sighs. "Look, you want the honest truth? Truth is I ain't lying about that. But also? I just love being around him."
"You do?"
"Mhm. Love him."
"But...you fuck everyone."
"That isn't about love," Kenny says. "With Butters? It is."
"Then how do you fuck the other people?"
"What, like you've never fantasized about doing it with someone other than Wendy?"
Stan swallows. "I...uh. No."
"Liar," Kenny says without much venom behind it.
"It's true. I don't."
"You're a sixteen year old boy. You'll fuck anything that's got a hole big enough," Kenny says.
"Not everyone's all sexually liberated," Stan points out.
"Fine. Anything female with a hole."
"Kenny, I'm serious."
"Yes. A seriously bad liar. You can say it all you want, but you think about other people. Now, did any of this have a point?"
"Why?"
"You start asking about my sex life and why I like guys and girls, I'm going to get curious. So spill."
Stan shrugs. If anyone would get it, it's Kenny. Might as well give him something, if not everything. "I was on Life the other day and...well, you know how things go. So my character starts having sex with this girl and the chat line connects, and it's a guy. And...well...again, you know how things go. But it was a guy."
"That's it? That's your big gay adventure? Jesus. I was hoping some guy had blown you or something. That've at least been juicy." Kenny rolls his eyes. "No big deal. My brother Kevin hasn't even looked at me since I came out and I know for a fact that he's done that. Ugh. Straight boys, I swear. Always terrified they'll catch the bi."
"I'm not terrified, just...I mean...some of the stuff we talked about...it's not like we were just skimming the surface, Kenny. It was...um. Hardcore. Porn-wise. And he and I really got off on it."
"Unless you suddenly have a craving for dick, you're fine. Move on. Trust me. The more you think about it, the more confused you're going to get, so let me save you the time and the effort and remind you that you're straight, totally in love with Wendy, and are on the fast track to marrying young and having lots of babies. Except Wendy wants to go to Harvard, but after she graduates, then you'll do the marriage and babies thing. She'll be a family lawyer and run for some kind of political office and you'll stay home taking care of the kids. You'll be a kept man. So quit worrying and just go back to living the dream, okay?"
"I guess. I just...I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, it's been months and—"
"I thought you said it was the other day?"
"Oh. Right."
"You're a liar," Kenny says for the second time in five minutes. "But whatever. My advice still stands. Put it out of your mind and get your head focused on Wendy. You got someone who loves you like that, you don't fuck it up."
"What about you and Butters? You're fucking other people."
"So's he. Well, he's fucking Dougie, anyway. But we both know that and are okay with it. But Wendy? Yeah. She wouldn't go for that. So get over it and just let the pretty girl love you, okay?"
Stan sighs. "Yeah. Okay. You're right."
"Course I am. Out of curiosity, what was his screen name?"
"Why?"
"So I can contact him, dude. If he's good at phone sex, then I want to talk to him."
"Oh. Um. It was—" Stan screws up his courage to tell Kenny the truth, that it was Kyle, that this whole fucking thing is about Kyle, and then—
The video game Kenny's playing electrocutes him and he dies for the second time that week.
Stan takes it as a sign to keep his mouth shut.
Part 2
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: South Park
Pairings: Stan/Kyle, 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. 8,652 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.
After the World of Warcraft phenomenon fades, hundreds of additional MMORPGs spring up, but the one that ends up winning out is...well, Stan can't even put into words what it is. It's called simply, "Life," and he thinks that it's reasonably analogous to the Matrix, wherein he and all the other people who log on are the machines, deciding what the world is like, and their characters are the human beings still jacked in.
That alone would be enough to make it the most popular game, but then there's also the fact that it allows you to control everything. It's like if The Sims met World of Warcraft and The Matrix and had a love child with better graphics and higher resolution.
Which is how he finds himself commanding his character—an accountant who pushes the numbers by day and a warrior who fights the forever un-named evil that seems to run through the game by night—to have sex with the Level-Five spell-caster in front of him, a tall redhead with deep blue eyes.
Of course, it's not like he can just command his character to have sex with her and it will happen. Her player has to respond favorably and agree to it. It would be weird the other way, like some kind of computer rape.
At any rate, her player agrees to the sex and their ISPs are connected so they can talk over their chat lines.
"Hey," he says, careful to keep his voice low and sexy. He's sixteen now but his voice still goes rogue on him sometimes, especially when he's trying to impress girls, which he thinks means it's more nerves than puberty leftovers.
"Hey," comes the reply, but it's not a girl like he expected. It's a male voice, and one that sounds familiar at that.
"Um," he says. He's never been good at this computer sex thing. "So, my character's name is Warlax."
"Mine's Sheena."
"Right. Good. So, Warlax is going to kiss Sheena and run his tongue across her lips."
He presses the right buttons to make his character do as he said, nodding in satisfaction when it happens.
"And Sheena is going to unbutton her blouse and let it fall to the ground."
On screen, the female does so, exposing computerized breasts. They're not sexy at all unless you're into pixels or something, but that's never been the point of the sex feature since it was installed. The point is this part, the chat line phone sex. That's why it became so popular. It's phone sex but without the guilt of admitting you actually want it. After all, it's just a function of the game and you're just talking it through with the person you're playing with.
"Warlax is going to kiss her breasts and—"
On and on it goes, step by step, undressing each other. Stan usually hates this part, but the voice on the other side of the chat line is different than he's used to and he finds himself oddly intrigued.
"Sheena's begging Warlax to fuck her," he says, and okay. Time to start controlling things with one hand.
He wraps his other hand around his cock and says, "Okay. So Warlax is going to fuck her now."
On screen, his character lifts the girl and holds her against the wall as he drives his cock up into her. On his chat line, the boy on the other end moans.
Stan hesitates before slipping into first person instead of his character's name. He's done this one or two times before, always with girls, and he's kind of nervous except that whoever this guy is—maybe he's quested with him before or something?—he's into it and Stan definitely is, too.
"I've got you pinned against the wall," he says, "and I'm fucking you hard, pulling you down onto my cock and slamming into you. And I'm kissing your neck, biting down and leaving a mark there. Everyone's gonna see it, too."
"God, Stan," the boy groans, and Stan freezes.
"How...how'd you know my name? I never said it. I don't use my real name on this game."
There's a pause before he answers. "I know you from school," he says.
Stan wracks his brain and comes up with cold realization. "Kyle?"
"Yeah."
"Holy shit, dude. You knew it was me and you let me say all that stuff?"
"Stan?"
"Yeah?"
"We're still fucking."
"What?" He glances back at the screen, where their characters are locked in a stalemate, fucking uselessly without any change. "Oh. Um. Warlax comes."
"He can't," Kyle says. "Not yet. And besides, you just gave me a hickey. There's got to be more after that."
"What?"
"You have to keep going," Kyle says. "Come on, dude. You can't just leave me hard up like this."
"You're...you're hard?"
"Aren't you?"
Stan glances down at his crotch and sighs. "Yeah."
"So keep going. You're fucking me. I've got a hickey. What happens next?"
This is his best friend. He's not supposed to be doing this. But Kyle's right. It would be stupid to stop at this point.
"Okay," he says. "Fuck, this is so weird. Okay. I'm fucking you and my cock's in your pu—in your—in you. My cock is in you. And I'm biting your neck and then I'm kissing your lips and nibbling on the bottom one. And then I run my fingers through your hair and down to the base of your neck and I'm pulling you to me, feel you up against me. Your cock is caught between us, rubbing against our stomachs and you're so hard. Hard as a fucking rock and you're loving it, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Kyle pants and Jesus tap dancing Christ on a stick, he's getting off on this. Of course, so is Stan, but still.
"Tell me."
"Fuck. I can feel you inside me," Kyle says, and Stan's stomach does a back flip. "And you're fucking me hard and you're so far inside me it feels like I'm gonna choke on you. And you keep rubbing against that spot that makes me see stars and I'm squeezing you, trying to make you come, and I'm kissing you so hard your lips are gonna bruise. I can feel you everywhere, Stan. Every fucking inch of me is on fire 'cause of you."
Stan closes his eyes and fuck, now he can see it, Kyle against a wall and himself holding him up, trapping him there and fucking him. He can practically feel Kyle around him instead of his own fist and there is something definitely wrong here, but he doesn't fucking care.
"Come on, Stan," Kyle whimpers. "Talk to me. You can't stop now."
"Are you close?"
"Yeah. So fucking close, man."
"Me, too."
"Then come."
"In you?"
"Yeah. Sure. In me. That works. Just come."
"Okay. So I'm fucking you and you feel so hot and tight and you're making the best little noises every time I slide against that spot. And I'm losing my rhythm and I can't even breathe and you keep begging me to come and I can't take it anymore, Kyle. I just can't fucking take it. It feels too good and—"
Kyle screams, "Fuck!" in his ear and he knows he's coming and goddamn that's hot. Stan follows him over the edge, still talking, still saying all that stuff that got Kyle off in the first place, and holy shit, he just got Kyle off.
And after so much talking, everything goes quiet.
He nervously cleans up and zips his pants back up, then silently enters the command for his character to come and waits while the two characters disengage.
He's about to disconnect their chat line since he has no fucking clue what to say, but Kyle tentatively says his name.
"Yeah?"
"I, uh. I didn't mean to freak you out. I thought you'd recognize my username."
Stan glances at it. BsktbllBrflvsk. Basketball, Kyle's favorite sport, and Broflovski, his last name. Oh.
"So you knew it was me and you agreed to sex anyway?"
"I thought you were agreeing to it."
"I wouldn't—I don't do that with boys," he says. "What...do you?" Things go quiet again and Stan tries to deal with that. "Oh. I uh, I didn't know, man."
"About me or about you?"
"What? There's nothing to know about me."
"You kept doing it."
"Yeah, because you asked me to."
"You could've said no," Kyle points out.
"I know, but...I mean, fuck, I was hard and you were hard and it was just talking."
"Yeah, about you having your cock inside me."
Stan feels sick. "You're the one who decided to play a fucking girl," he accuses.
"It never bothered you on Warcraft."
"On Warcraft it didn't fucking matter because we couldn't have sex!" Stan shouts, then lowers his voice and groans. "Fuck. We just had sex. Or phone sex. Or something. Oh, God."
"Stan, calm down. It's not that big of a deal."
"It is to me."
"Stan..."
"Just...stop, Kyle. Just fucking stop, okay? That was seriously fucked up, even for us."
"It's not like it really happened. We were just talking."
"Talking. Right. Usually when we talk, I don't end up with come all over my keyboard."
"You came that hard?"
"What the fuck does it matter, Kyle?"
"It's just kind of...hot. That's all."
Stan groans. "This never happened, okay? Just forget about it."
"But—"
"No," Stan says firmly. "Didn't happen."
Kyle sighs. "Okay. Fine. I'm sorry. I'll see you at school tomorrow."
Fuck. Stan hadn't even gotten around to thinking about having to see Kyle tomorrow.
"Yeah. Right," Stan answers. "See ya around."
It's not like he plans on it or anything, but when he wakes up nauseated the next morning, he seizes upon it as an excuse not to go to school. His mom fusses over him until he convinces her to go to work, and then he's left home alone with nothing to do but try to ignore what happened.
He's pretty sure if he lets himself deal with what happened, he'll realize something life-changing and he desperately doesn't want that to happen. So. He ignores it.
Unfortunately, there's only so much ignoring he can do when Kyle shows up at his doorstep as soon as school lets out, two full hours before his parents get off work, and fuck, now they're alone together in a house filled with walls and all kinds of other surfaces and what the fuck?
"What are you doing here?" he asks, slamming the door shut behind them.
"I came to bring you your homework," Kyle says. "And to talk."
"No," Stan says flatly. "We're not talking about that."
"Stan, we can't just pretend it didn't happen."
"Yes, we can. Look. Here I go. Are you watching?" He stares blankly at Kyle for an entire minute and a half before he adds, "There. See?"
"Stan," Kyle says angrily. "Come on. You can't fucking ignore this."
"Do you need the demonstration again?"
Kyle growls at him, actually fucking growls in frustration, and demands, "Can't we just talk about it? I'm not asking you to do it again, for fuck's sake. Just talk to me."
Stan crosses his arms across his chest stoically. "I'm not talking about it because it didn't happen. Remember? We said it didn't happen."
"Yeah, but it did," Kyle insists. "And you got off on it and so did I and that means we need to ta—"
"Goddamn it, shut the fuck up," Stan yells. "Just shut the fucking fuck up, Kyle."
"No, you shut up," Kyle counters. "I can't believe you're reacting like this, Stan. I thought that you, of all people—"
"What? Me of all people what?"
"I thought you wouldn't be so fucking judgemental," Kyle snaps. "After fucking everything, man. You don't care that Sparky's gay. And I've been your best friend since before pre-school. So what the fuck, man?"
"I don't care about you," Stan says. "I care about me."
"What?"
"You can be gay all you want," Stan says. "But I have a girlfriend."
"You got off once because of something a guy said," Kyle says. "That doesn't make you anything."
"Whatever, okay? I have a girlfriend."
"Yeah, you said that, but you can't hide behind Wendy. You're supposed to be my best friend."
"Best friends don't do that."
"Oh, for God's sake."
"What?"
"Stan, it was one time, okay? We said shit. We both got off. It's not like you went down on me or something. And for the record, even what we were saying? You were fucking me—"
"Stop."
"No. It's not like you were fantasizing about getting fucked. Could've been a girl you were fucking. What's it matter? Okay? So will you calm the fuck down?"
"Dude...look, whatever," Stan says. "Okay? I'm done talking about it."
"No," Kyle says angrily. "You're my best friend and I'm not letting you do this to me."
"Oh, but you were fine with letting me do that to you."
"Dude, it was virtual reality. It doesn't fucking count."
"You weren't getting off on the computer screen and you know it," Stan snaps. "You were getting off on...on me. My voice. What I was saying."
"And so were you."
"Which is exactly the problem."
"There's no fucking problem," Kyle yells.
He stops and stares at Stan, letting silence hang in the air.
"I'm sorry," Kyle says finally. "It's just really fucking frustrating."
"I just...don't...that's never happened to me before."
"Well...I mean...dude, I've gotten off with girls before. Bebe went down on me last year on the football field after homecoming. I'm still gay. So what if this happened? You're still whatever you were before. Doesn't change anything."
Stan shrugs. "I guess. So...um. You are, then? For sure?"
"Gay?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Kyle leans against the door and sighs. "Never seemed like the right time, I guess. Why?"
"Dude, you're my best friend. You think I wouldn't want to know?"
"I'm sorry. Look, can we just...move on? I can't pretend it didn't happen, Stan. I'm sorry. I can't ignore it. But it doesn't matter like you think it does, either. You're my best friend. Can we just...be best friends again?"
Stan nods. "Yeah. I guess."
"Can you at least look at me?"
Stan sighs and looks up, meets Kyle's eyes. "I'm sorry. I just...I'm freaked out."
"I know. And I'm sorry. If I thought you'd react like this, I wouldn't have done it. I just thought...you're my best friend, you know? I don't want you to start hating me over one mistake."
"I don't hate you."
"You still love me?"
Stan nods slowly. "Yeah. Platonically."
"I can live with that."
Stan nods. "Thanks for bringing me my homework."
"Want me to stay and help you with the math?"
"You don't mind?"
"It's just trig."
"Ugh," Stan says. "Yeah. Stay."
Kyle nods and by the time Stan has figured out the purpose of the sine function of his calculator, he actually feels like things are on their way back to normal.
Homeroom the next morning is something of a disaster, Stan thinks. Everyone is gathered, waiting for Mr. Garrison to arrive, and Kyle gives Stan a significant look before standing in front of the room and clearing his throat.
"Hi. Uh, so I'm gay. Great. Good morning."
Stan is staring at Kyle, torn between smacking him on the head for giving Cartman more ammunition, and patting him on the back for being one of the bravest people Stan knows.
Of course, that's when Mr. Garrison walks in the room and shouts, "Faggot!" at Kyle and everyone gasps.
"Dude," Cartman says. "That is not cool. You're a teacher. Also? I was supposed to get to call him that first."
"Haven't I made sure to tell you children over the years that homosexuals' hearts do not pump blood like yours and mine, but a viscous, black fluid made of pure evil?"
"I hate fags and even I know that's not true," Cartman says, shaking his head. "And Kyle? You're a Jewfag."
"Shut the fuck up," Stan and Kyle chorus in unison.
"Boys, language," Mr. Garrison snaps.
"You just called me a faggot and you're telling us—" Kyle says.
"Do you want a referral?" Mr. Garrison asks. "Now everybody sit down."
As soon as Garrison starts taking roll, Stan leans over to Kyle's desk and says, "Dude."
"I told my parents and Ike last night," Kyle says with a shrug. "I knew they'd take it okay. Mom went to join PFLAG this morning. Like she really needs another cause. She says she's going to make me a t-shirt that says 'feygeleh' on it in rainbow colors. She thinks it's being supportive. Honestly. Like she really needed another cause, you know?"
"What about your dad and Ike?"
"Ike gave me a hug and said, 'I can still ask Stan for girl advice, right?'" Stan grins. "And dad just got a bit flustered at first but he'll be okay. You were the only person I cared about telling. So I just figured...I want to be able to date like everyone else, so I might as well out myself at school. And I did. So...it's all cool now."
Stan nods. "Who are you wanting to date?"
"Well, I was thinking...Butters and Kenny are on the outs right now, you know? And normally I wouldn't think about doing it to Butters, but Kenny doesn't care who he sleeps with. So as long as they're broken up...why not, you know? I mean, if they were still together...Kenny fucks everyone anyway, but I wouldn't want to add to it. But...anyway. Just thought I'd give it a try."
"Why not just date Butters?"
Kyle laughs. "Good one, dude."
"I'm serious. Like you said, Kenny sleeps with everyone. Do you really want to catch any of the things he probably has?"
"It's South Park, dude. STDs aren't that rampant."
"Kyle, seriously. It's just a game of odds. Better to date Butters. He's only been with Kenny and that Dougie guy."
That had been the weirdest month Stan could ever remember having and if he never had to walk in on Butters and Dougie going at it in the boys' room dressed in tin foil costumes again, it would be too soon.
"Yeah, but technically, if Butters has been with Kenny, then he's been with everyone Kenny's been with, so...just as bad, dude."
For some reason, the idea of Kyle hooking up with Kenny bothers Stan, despite the fact that Kyle has a very good point.
"Well...at least Butters wouldn't be sleeping around on you."
Kyle shrugs. "Wouldn't bother me. I'm not exactly looking for my one true love here, you know. Not everyone meets their soul mate in the third grade."
Stan's stomach flips for inexplicable reasons and he shrugs without really looking at Kyle. "Okay," he says. "If you're sure."
He wants to tell Kyle he's being stupid, but he doesn't really have any grounds for that, so. Whatever. So two of his friends are going to be fucking. So Kenny will probably be doing the things he described on the chat line to Kyle and getting him to make that noise that had made Stan come all over his keyboard. Fine. Whatever. Not his business. He's supposed to be the supportive best friend, so. That's what he'll be.
Stan's parents won't buy him a car and he can't afford one on his own, but they do let him borrow theirs sometimes on Friday nights, which is good because Fridays are his date nights with Wendy. They see each other every day at school, of course, and sometimes afterwards in the evenings, but Wendy had made the point that they'd been together off and on—mostly on, but a little off—since they were 8, so literally half their lives. Romance, she said, tends to die after that much time together, and so they had agreed that every Friday, they'd go on a date, a real, honest-to-God date, and keep the romance alive.
Of course, when you're sixteen and in a town as small as South Park, there aren't exactly a lot of ways to be romantic, so most of their dates end up being to places like the bowling alley or the arcade. Wendy swears she doesn't mind and that it's the effort that counts.
That's one of the best things about Wendy. She gives him credit for things. Stan's seen Kenny with girls who spent all their time telling him what was wrong with him, but Wendy's never done that, so. Stan's pretty sure she's some kind of amazing.
Tonight they're going to the movies, some flick starring Ashton Kutcher in a part he's undoubtedly too old to play, and his dad's car is wheezing its way along Main Street.
"Bebe's coming over tomorrow to help me fill out college applications," Wendy tells him. It had taken a long time to repair their friendship after what had happened on the school roof when they were kids, but they're back to being friends now and both seem pretty happy about it.
"Applications? We're sophomores."
"For practice," she tells him. "Never too early to start practicing your essay to get into Harvard."
Stan nods. "Makes sense."
"What about you? Any plans?"
"I think Kyle's coming over. He's been trying to avoid his house ever since he came out. His mom's gone kind of overboard with the supporting and stuff."
Wendy smiles. "It was very brave of him to come out to the whole class. Mr. Garrison shouldn't have said that."
Stan shrugs. "Kyle doesn't care. He knows Garrison's...you know. Anyway. We'll probably hang out some."
"You're a good friend, Stan," she says, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.
The movie sucks, but Stan didn't really have high hopes for it, anyway. But afterwards...that's his favorite part.
Of course he loves Wendy and he loves her mind, but he's a sixteen-year-old boy and he has a steady girlfriend who subscribes to the idea that being a feminist means that she's free to choose and follow her desires, and luckily for him, her desires happen to lead her to him.
They don't usually go all the way. They have twice, once on her birthday and then again on Valentine's Day this past year. The first time, she'd just said, "I'm sixteen, I'm old enough to make my own decisions about intercourse, and I want to just get this over with. I'm on the pill, here's a condom and some spermicidal lubricant," and that had been their first time. The second time, she'd said it was a special occasion and promised to do it again on his birthday.
But mostly, they just stick to oral sex, since Wendy doesn't want to get pregnant and ruin her chances at Harvard. He doesn't really mind and she doesn't seem to either, but for some reason, tonight he just feels...like he needs more.
He's never asked her for it. He's maybe once or twice tried to make a move, but if and when she rejects his advances, he's always backed off. Of course he wants more sex, but by his reckoning, all the positives that come out of his relationship with Wendy, not just sexual but just plain being around her, far outweigh having to jack off a little more often than usual.
"Wendy?" he asks between kisses in the backseat of his parents' car.
"Yeah?"
"Can we...um, can we do it?"
Well. Yeah. That was romantic.
She stares at him for a minute before answering, "You know I don't want to get pregnant."
"I know," he answers. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to..." He shrugs. "Be with you that way. But it's okay. We don't have to."
She smiles. "Well your birthday isn't for another month and Valentines was all the way back in February...I guess we can, just this once. But be careful, okay?"
"Yeah," he promises. "And I'll get you that pill, you know? The morning after whatever?"
She nods, seemingly satisfied, and allows him to unbutton her top. It's not as cold as it could be yet, but even September in Colorado is chilly, and her nipples are erect against her bra. Not being able to have full-on sex very often has taught him the importance of all the other stuff, the foreplay and all, and he lowers his lips to the fabric of her bra—cotton, just like always because Wendy is nothing if not practical—and sucks the peaks of her nipples.
Her fingers wind through his hair, encouraging, and he unhooks her bra with the kind of familiarity that reminds him that she's been letting him take her top off since the eighth grade and wow, that feels like forever ago.
Her breasts have always been on the small side, nothing like Bebe's, but he likes them that way. He can take them in his hands or in his mouth and make her gasp, buck her hips toward his. He likes that, being able to watch her lose her control and know that he caused it.
Her skirt gets flipped up and her panties get tugged down just enough to give him access. It's cold, they're in a car, and sure, no one ever comes up here, but still. It'd just be stupid to completely undress for sex in a car.
His jeans get pushed down past his hips and he digs the condom out of his wallet. He keeps it there because he's a boy in a steady relationship and he figures it's expected, though he's had that same one in there since the beginning of the summer and it's just now being used.
She helps him get it on—more like she does it herself because she insists on taking every precaution and he knows she's afraid he'll do it wrong—and guides him to her, tightening her arms around his neck as he starts to push. She frowns and shifts, then nods and whispers for him to try again, and this time he sinks in much easier.
"Jesus," he groans, and she chuckles all soft and sweet.
"Mmm. Go slow at first, okay?"
He nods and moves gently, careful not to do anything that could hurt her. The first time they'd done this, she had almost cried and the second time, he'd been too afraid of hurting her again to really get into it at first. It had only been when she promised him she was enjoying it that he could really let himself go.
So he goes slow and careful until she encourages him to do more, promising him that she's fine, really, and she loves him but if he really thinks he's got something so big that it'll hurt her every single time, then he's deluded.
And he laughs, right there in the middle of sex, because fuck, she's got to be the perfect girl. She just has to be.
"Love you," he tells her, and she nods, silent acknowledgement that she knows he really does.
He figures he's lucky like that. Most girls would think he was only saying it for sex. But not Wendy. Wendy knows.
And if he fumbles during sex, she doesn't mind, either. She never laughs unless he's already laughing, too, always encourages him to try again. And she's so soft—soft curves, soft lips, soft skin, and yeah. He's lucky.
He likes to get her off before he comes. It makes him feel like a gentleman. He supposes that's crazy, but he always feels like he's done right by her if he's made sure she's had a good time.
It's hard, though, when they do it like this. She feels so fucking good that it's just...hard to keep himself in check. Still, he tries, fingers circling her clit and lips wrapped around her nipples, biting, sucking, licking, encouraging her to let go.
He still comes before her. But she gives him credit for trying and he manages to bring her off with his tongue a few minutes later.
He helps her get re-dressed and offers her his coat to warm her back up, turns on the heater and lets her get herself settled before he gives her a ride home. She holds his hand the whole way and he thanks her for letting him have that even though it wasn't a special occasion.
She just smiles and says, "Girls like sex, too, Stan. If I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant..." She shrugs. "I had a nice time tonight."
"Yeah. Me, too."
Homecoming comes at the end of October and Stan finds himself pretty much the only boy able to relax. He gets the desperation to find a date; last year, he and Wendy had broken up the week before homecoming and he'd panicked at the thought of finding a date. Luckily, they made up within a few days and have been together ever since, but there for awhile, the prospect had been scary.
Still, he he's pretty sure Clyde is making an ass of himself by sending Lola a new pair of shoes every day in the week leading up to the dance, hoping that she'll say yes. She does, eventually, but that's besides the point.
Butters tells everyone who'll listen that he's going stag by choice, but Stan's pretty sure that means he and Kenny will be spending the evening unofficially together. That is, until Wendy informs him that they'll be doubling with Kenny and Bebe, who are, apparently, going together.
He tries to talk to Kenny and Butters about it, but neither of them seem to want to talk about it. On the other hand, they both seem to be in good moods, so maybe they do know what they're doing.
And for the most part, people sort of fall together. Craig's taking Rebecca, Timmy's taking Annie, Token will be taking Nelly, and in a move that surprises exactly no one, Bill decides to take Fosse. Most people seem to find a date easily, and Stan supposes that comes from knowing each other their whole lives. In fact, the only two boys whose dates he doesn't know yet are Cartman's (like anyone would go with him anyway) and Kyle's.
And God, he's dying to know who Kyle's taking.
"Come on," Stan says over lunch one day. "Just tell us. Who're you bringing?"
"Yes. Please tell us who you've convinced to fuck your dirty Jew asshole," Cartman says. "Do go on, Kyle."
"At least I can get someone to fuck me you fat piece of shit," Kyle snaps, then seems to reconsider his comment and adds hastily, "if I wanted them to."
"Do you not want Cartman to hear?" Stan asks. "Just tell me, dude. Whisper it."
"You'll find out at the dance, all right?" Kyle says. "Why's it matter?"
"Dude, are you ashamed of this guy or something?"
Kyle rolls his eyes. "Fine. His name is Justin and he's on the academic decathlon team for Middle Park. I met him two weeks ago when I was competing against him."
"So you're bringing a boy from another school to our homecoming? No wonder you're ashamed of him. Seriously, Kyle. I think that's treason against South Park."
"Yeah, but South Park sucks," Kyle points out. "So it's fine."
He's teasing, and Stan knows it, knows Kyle's been there for every game Stan's ever played in and has cheered him on faithfully, but for some reason, this particular time, it bothers him.
"No, we don't. We're a lot better than fucking Middle Park."
Kyle looks a little surprised at him, but shrugs. "Just a joke, dude. Lighten up. Anyway, now that you guys know, can we just drop it?"
"Yes," Cartman says. "Everyone who thinks we should move on from talking about Kyle having nerdy buttsex, raise your hand."
"Do you see why I didn't want to talk about it?" Kyle says.
Stan shrugs. "Fine. Whatever. Let's talk about something else. Who cares about fucking homecoming, anyway?"
"How about we talk about—" Cartman pulls out his computer and shows them all several charts and graphs, "who I'm going with? Now, as you can see, I have divided the girls in our class up by looks, intelligence, and socio-economic status. There are also indicators for whether or not these girls are dirty, stinking hippies. Girl's gonna have to be hot to get to go with me if she's a tree-hugger. So. Allowing the idea that maybe I couldn't steal these girls away from their current dates—though I could, they're just not worth the waste of time and effort—there are five possible candidates left to be my date to homecoming. Patty, Sally, Millie, Heidi, and Mandy. So, gentlemen, let's get to work. We have exactly fifty-six hours to decide who I will be going to homecoming with. The clock is ticking. Let's move out."
"Move out to what?" Butters asks.
"To interrogate these girls and see if they're good enough for me. Do I have to explain everything to you guys? Let's get a move on, gentlemen. Time's a-wasting."
"What if we don't want to help inflict you upon some poor, innocent girl?" Kyle asks.
"Then you're just a sandy vagina, aren't you, Kyle?" Cartman asks. "Yeah, you heard me right, Kyle. You're a sandy vagina. Not you have a sandy vagina. You are a sandy vagina. That's how much of a pussy you are."
"If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to kick your ass so hard—"
"Yes, you make your idle threats," Cartman taunts. "Try to strike me down. But we all know fags can't throw a punch. Your threats are useless, Kyle. You can't do a damn thing to me and—"
He gets cut off by the sound of a thunking noise under the table.
Everyone looks to see what caused the noise except, Stan notices, for Kyle. Kyle's doesn't look at all. He just smirks triumphantly across the table at Cartman.
"My balls," Cartman squeaks, and then he falls over off his chair with a thud.
"That wasn't a punch," Kyle says with a note of finality.
"Some days, I think you're a really great guy, Kyle," Token says.
"Aw, geez," Butters laments. "Eric's gonna be awful sore. Why'd you have to go and kick him in the balls, Kyle?"
"Butters, you of all people should get it," Kyle says firmly.
"Yeah, but the balls?"
Kyle shrugs, clearly content with his decision.
So two days later, Stan finds himself climbing out of a car with Wendy, Bebe, and Kenny, on his way into the homecoming dance.
Wendy looks beautiful and he's told her that already more times than he can count, but he tells her one more time to make sure she really knows.
But once they get inside, he's searching the room for all his friends. Butters is off to the side with Dougie, and Stan really hopes they're not starting that back up again. It was creepy.
Cartman is on the other side of the room, glaring at everyone and looking murderous. But Kyle is nowhere to be found.
"Something wrong?" Wendy asks.
"I was just looking for Kyle and his date."
She nods. "Maybe they're just not here, yet."
"You don't think they got here and Garrison kicked them out, do you?"
"If he did, it's a breach of school policy and—"
But whatever else it might be, Stan doesn't hear because that's the moment Kyle walks into the gym with Justin, his date, at his side.
"Oh, there they are," Wendy says. "We should go say hi."
Truthfully, Stan doesn't really want to. It's still too weird to see Kyle with a boy and think about him doing those things they talked about on the chat line. Not really because of the gay thing, because it's never bothered him with Butters and Kenny, but just...he said those things to Kyle and now someone else might be doing them. It's just weird.
"Oh, hey," Kyle says when Wendy's dragged him over. "Guys, this is Justin. Justin, this is my best friend Stan and his girlfriend, Wendy."
"Hi," Justin says, and offers his hand.
He has a firm grip and a steady voice, and he and Kyle look far too comfortable with each other.
"Hi," Wendy says cheerfully.
"Yeah, hi," Stan says. "Uh—"
What's he supposed to say? There can't possibly be protocol for this situation.
"You guys want to dance?" Wendy asks, and starts leading them all onto the dance floor. Stan can dance fine, he guesses, while Wendy's not half bad, and Kyle's always been decent. But Justin? Holy fuck, Justin can move. Geeks aren't supposed to be able to move like that and Jesus, now he's got pictures in his head, flashing images of Kyle and Justin moving like that together, all naked and sweaty.
He shakes his head and gives an apologetic smile to Wendy, who's staring up at him with a confused look on her face. Yeah. He's sorry. He's definitely sorry for what's going through his head right now. Sorry to her and sorry to himself as well. Hell, maybe even sorry to Kyle and Justin, too, because there's something kind of creepy and voyeuristic about thinking of them like this.
But still, the vision in his head persists and all he can see is Justin's long, thin fingers—piano player; he'd forgotten Kyle had mentioned that—winding through Kyle's hair or his pink lips attached to Kyle's neck, kissing him there. His blue eyes would stare into Kyle's hazel ones, and Justin's soft, short brown hair would look interesting next to Kyle's thick, red curls.
He takes a few deep breaths and fixes his eyes back on Wendy, trying not to think about the weird thoughts he's having lately and what they could possibly mean. Who cares what they mean? Doesn't matter, anyway. Kyle's with Justin and he's with Wendy and that's how it should be.
Half an hour later, he asks Wendy if she wants something to drink and breaks away from the group to head to the refreshment table, hoping that the punch is spiked. Kyle follows him, leaving Wendy and Justin to dance together, and asks, "So? What do you think?"
"Huh?"
"About Justin. He's cute, right?"
"Sure."
"And funny," Kyle adds. "Did you hear him telling the one about the binomial?"
"Yeah."
Kyle frowns. "Something wrong?"
Stan shrugs. "Nope."
"Did something happen with Wendy? You and Kenny fight on the way here? What, dude?"
Stan shrugs. "Nothing. It's fine. Let's get back out there."
"No, dude, something's wrong."
"Kyle, I swear, nothing's wrong. I'm fine, Kenny's fine, Wendy's fine, you're fine, and Justin is fine. Let's just get back out there, all right?"
"Fine. But you've been weird lately and I want to talk about it later, all right?"
Stan shrugs. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."
It turns out the punch is spiked, so most people are more than ready to head to Clyde's house for the after party when the dance starts to wind down. Wendy agrees to go on the condition that she has to be home by one AM, and so Stan finds himself in a group of Kenny, Bebe, Butters, Kyle, Justin, Wendy, and himself as they all head out towards Clyde's.
His parents are out of town, so they have pretty much the entire house, and Stan's pretty sure Clyde's going to be grounded for at least a month after this. But judging from the fact that his date is half-drunk and hanging off his arm like she wants nothing more than to throw him down and fuck him, Stan's pretty sure Clyde isn't going to mind being grounded for this.
When Stan's had a couple of beers, he gets up the nerve to ask Wendy to come upstairs with him. Homecoming is technically a special occasion, but since his birthday was less than two weeks ago, he's not sure she'll want to again. Which is fine, really. He just wants some time alone with her, that's all.
He opens the first bedroom door he comes to and pulls her inside, laughing as he stumbles to find the light switch. He immediately wishes he'd just left the damn thing off.
Kyle and Justin are on the bed, shirtless with their pants undone, kissing furiously. Justin's hands are on Kyle's shoulders and Kyle's are clutching Justin's hips. It takes a moment before they seem to register that they've got company, then they jerk away from each other and stare.
"Uh." It's Kyle who speaks first and his voice sounds loud in the quiet of the room. "Hi."
"Sorry," Wendy says, and fuck, she's always been the most together person he knows. "We'll just head on down the hall. Don't let us bother you."
She starts pulling Stan back out, but he can't take his eyes off them. Justin had been straddling Kyle's hips and rocking against him and does Kyle like that? Does he like it when the other guy takes charge? Of course he does. That's what he liked that day on the chat line, wasn't it?
Christ, he's got to stop thinking about this. He's obsessing over something he has no right to be obsessing about.
Wendy pulls him down the hall and into a different, less-occupied room, but his mind is still back in the last one, still thinking about the dip of Kyle's hip as it disappears under his pants.
Stan doesn't know what the big deal is. He's seen Kyle naked before, lots of times. Their school still has group showers for gym class and they've been in there at the same time almost every day since they had to start changing for gym. But this is different. This is Kyle naked and being...sexual, and now it's stuck in Stan's head.
"You okay?" Wendy asks.
"Yeah," he answers. "Hey, um, you know, it's a special occasion..."
"I know," she agrees. "And I have a surprise for you."
"You do?"
"Well, you played so well in the game that I thought you deserved a little something for all that hard work."
He tilts his head in confusion, and that's the moment Wendy slides the straps of her dress off her arms and lets it pool at her feet.
He has no idea where she got her underwear, but it's not her usual practical cotton. It's black lace and it's barely there anyway, and all he can do is stare at her.
"Surprise," she whispers.
She looks uncomfortable, like she doesn't know what to do now, and asks, "Is it...does it look okay?"
"Okay? Okay? Christ, Wendy. You look...amazing."
"Yeah?"
He nods and carefully traces the top edge where the lace meets the skin of her breasts with one finger, entranced.
"You...um. You want to?" she asks.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Fuck, Wendy..."
She smiles. "And we actually get to do it in a real bed this time."
"Yeah."
She gently nudges him onto the bed on his back and tugs his pants off before settling herself across his thighs. And isn't this what Kyle and Justin were doing? Is that why she's doing this? Does she think he wants—fuck.
He rolls them over and kisses her neck, moving down to her breasts. There's a tiny clasp in the front and he works at it with his teeth, trying to unhook it, but he finally gives up and just uses his fingers instead.
"Wendy—"
"It's fine," she promises. "Took me forever to get it on earlier. All this lacy stuff..." She shrugs. "I thought it looked nice, though."
"It does," he promises. "You look gorgeous."
"I do?"
"Incredibly sexy."
She smiles. "You're so sweet."
"Yeah?"
She nods and he lets her flip them back over.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
She rubs against him, little movements that he can tell are turning her on.
"I want to try it this way," she says. "Just to see. Is that okay?"
He nods. "Yeah. Sure. Anything."
She smiles and pulls his boxers down enough to free his cock, retrieves a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on him carefully.
He reaches for her hips, but she stops him, just pulls her panties to the side enough to sink down on him and Jesus tap-dancing Christ, he might die.
He stares up at he as she rides his cock, watches her face flush with pleasure. She's beautiful. Not just tonight but all the fucking time and he's the luckiest guy in the world to be her boyfriend.
Which is why he thinks he's also the biggest jerk in the world when he closes his eyes and instead of thinking of her, all that comes to mind is Kyle. Kyle, naked. Kyle flushed and gorgeous. Kyle. Riding his cock.
"Jesus," he shouts, and the only reason he doesn't come that very second is that he opens his eyes and sees her staring down at him, confused and maybe a little hurt.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "Uh, it was...never mind. I'm good now."
She nods and then she's moving again, slow little movements that send sparks up his spine.
But there's still that image of Kyle at the front of his mind and he wonders how Kyle would do this. Wendy is rocking slowly against him, just barely moving to the outside observer. But he can feel her moving so much more than that, her muscles tightening around him and making him see stars.
Is that what Kyle would do? Could Kyle even do that? Stan's not really sure how...well, how it works. Or would Kyle ride him like he's seen girls do in pornos? Would he gasp and moan and make lots of noises or be more quiet like Wendy?
Why does Stan fucking care?
When he comes, he's chanting her name, but all he sees in his head is Kyle, and he has no fucking clue what that means other than it's something he needs to think about.
"Hey, Kenny?" Stan asks.
"Mmph?"
"Um. You're...bisexual, right?"
"Mmph-hmm."
"How does that...how's that work? Do you just wake up every day with a craving for one or the other, or...?"
"Mmmph—"
"Can you take your hood off, please? Just for a minute?"
Kenny rolls his eyes and loosens it enough to tuck it underneath his chin so he can talk.
"No, it's more like...just...both. Usually." He shrugs. "Not that every now and then I don't want one more than the other, but...most days...anyway. Why're you asking?"
"Just wondering," Stan shrugs. "I mean...Kyle just likes guys and I...just like girls, but you like both, so...just curious."
Kenny shrugs. "Okay."
Stan watches him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then asks, "So what's up with Butters?"
"What about him?"
"Well, you took Bebe to the dance. Was that a girl day?"
Kenny rolls his eyes. "I couldn't take Butters to the dance because his parents are dickheads. I asked him. He said—" and then he adopts a near-perfect imitation of Butters, "'Aw, shucks, Kenny. That's awful nice of you, but I don't reckon my parents would like it very much if I went to the dance with a boy. You're not sore, are ya?'"
"Sorry, man."
"'S okay. He had a good time with Dougie and me and him did our own kind of dancing at the after party."
"What about Bebe?"
"Went down on her before I went looking for him. Got her off but didn't come with her. Wanted to be ready for Butters."
Stan stares.
"Dude, give me that look all you want, that guy is crazy in bed."
Stan continues to stare.
"Whatever. Ain't nobody ever rode my dick like he does, but...you go ahead with the disbelieving."
"Right."
Kenny sighs. "Look, you want the honest truth? Truth is I ain't lying about that. But also? I just love being around him."
"You do?"
"Mhm. Love him."
"But...you fuck everyone."
"That isn't about love," Kenny says. "With Butters? It is."
"Then how do you fuck the other people?"
"What, like you've never fantasized about doing it with someone other than Wendy?"
Stan swallows. "I...uh. No."
"Liar," Kenny says without much venom behind it.
"It's true. I don't."
"You're a sixteen year old boy. You'll fuck anything that's got a hole big enough," Kenny says.
"Not everyone's all sexually liberated," Stan points out.
"Fine. Anything female with a hole."
"Kenny, I'm serious."
"Yes. A seriously bad liar. You can say it all you want, but you think about other people. Now, did any of this have a point?"
"Why?"
"You start asking about my sex life and why I like guys and girls, I'm going to get curious. So spill."
Stan shrugs. If anyone would get it, it's Kenny. Might as well give him something, if not everything. "I was on Life the other day and...well, you know how things go. So my character starts having sex with this girl and the chat line connects, and it's a guy. And...well...again, you know how things go. But it was a guy."
"That's it? That's your big gay adventure? Jesus. I was hoping some guy had blown you or something. That've at least been juicy." Kenny rolls his eyes. "No big deal. My brother Kevin hasn't even looked at me since I came out and I know for a fact that he's done that. Ugh. Straight boys, I swear. Always terrified they'll catch the bi."
"I'm not terrified, just...I mean...some of the stuff we talked about...it's not like we were just skimming the surface, Kenny. It was...um. Hardcore. Porn-wise. And he and I really got off on it."
"Unless you suddenly have a craving for dick, you're fine. Move on. Trust me. The more you think about it, the more confused you're going to get, so let me save you the time and the effort and remind you that you're straight, totally in love with Wendy, and are on the fast track to marrying young and having lots of babies. Except Wendy wants to go to Harvard, but after she graduates, then you'll do the marriage and babies thing. She'll be a family lawyer and run for some kind of political office and you'll stay home taking care of the kids. You'll be a kept man. So quit worrying and just go back to living the dream, okay?"
"I guess. I just...I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, it's been months and—"
"I thought you said it was the other day?"
"Oh. Right."
"You're a liar," Kenny says for the second time in five minutes. "But whatever. My advice still stands. Put it out of your mind and get your head focused on Wendy. You got someone who loves you like that, you don't fuck it up."
"What about you and Butters? You're fucking other people."
"So's he. Well, he's fucking Dougie, anyway. But we both know that and are okay with it. But Wendy? Yeah. She wouldn't go for that. So get over it and just let the pretty girl love you, okay?"
Stan sighs. "Yeah. Okay. You're right."
"Course I am. Out of curiosity, what was his screen name?"
"Why?"
"So I can contact him, dude. If he's good at phone sex, then I want to talk to him."
"Oh. Um. It was—" Stan screws up his courage to tell Kenny the truth, that it was Kyle, that this whole fucking thing is about Kyle, and then—
The video game Kenny's playing electrocutes him and he dies for the second time that week.
Stan takes it as a sign to keep his mouth shut.
Part 2
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Date: 2009-05-06 12:41 am (UTC)Is it completed?
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Date: 2009-05-06 12:43 am (UTC)