Archive of Our Own

Cartman’s basement smelled like sweat, weed and regret. The TV was cranked way too loud, explosions rattling the walls as the four boys sat hunched forward like goblins guarding treasure. It was their typical Friday afternoon, when they always hung out together to play video games. What was also not out of the ordinary were the screams that bounced off of the brick walls as the teenagers tried to beat another level.

“That final boss is seriously so overpowered, it’s not even fun anymore.” Stan, who was splayed on one of the beanbags, groaned loudly.

His limbs were tangled in a way that seemed anything but comfortable, one hand gripping the controller, as the other reached over towards Kenny, who was taking a drag of an already half-burned joint.

“Whatever, dude.” Kenny smiled lazily, probably already high as a kite, and handed the taller boy his blunt.

They’ve been at it for at least two hours now, the weed circulated through all of their bodies, as they pretended they still had enough brain power to actually care about the game they’ve been playing. “It’s not like we’ve been trying to beat the fucker for five days now.”

“Maybe if you actually focused instead of getting high, then we’d have a chance at winning” came Kyle’s annoyed response.

Stan tried to flip him off, but it only resulted in him dropping the joint. It rolled under the couch where Kyle and Cartman were sitting. The teen quickly dove after it, squishing between his friends’ legs. That only seemed to piss Kyle off more, as he scoffed disapprovingly.

“Great. Burn down the whole house, why the hell not.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty Jew.” Cartman snorted, which only seemed to add fuel to the fire. A now furious, red in a face fire called Kyle Broflovski.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” the redhead turned his head towards the other boy. 

Cartman clapped his hands happily, mischievousness of his smirk reaching his eyes. If it wasn’t for the expression he’s been making, one could say that Eric Cartman looked almost innocent. He’s grown into his body over the years, but the fat was still there, giving him a youthful look. That paired with his baby-blue irises surrounded by long lashes made him look almost like a cherub. But Kyle, and almost everyone in the whole town of South Park, knew better.  

“Well,” he didn’t falter at the daggers the other was staring into him. “You’ve already smoked your part of today’s ration, so I don’t believe you judging our lovely friend Stan here is justified.”

The fake competence in Cartman’s voice and the way he made a show of taking a long drag of his own joint made Kyle’s blood boil. The bigger boy blew all of the smoke straight into his face and as he was about to snap, Kenny finally noticed the tension between the two. He sighed theatrically. 

“Can we please go one session without you guys trying to bite each other’s dicks off?”

“Shut up, Kenny.” the redhead snapped at the shorter teen, giving him the finger. Cartman only snickered. They returned their eyes to the TV screen, resuming the long-forgotten game. 

“Eureka!” The three seconds of peace were interrupted by Stan, who finally emerged from half-way under the couch, where he had been searching for what remained of his blunt for the past five minutes.

He quickly noticed the shift in the atmosphere and, with an expression of a kicked puppy, returned to his spot on the bean bag. 

Unfortunately for Kyle, or rather for all of them, Eric Cartman wasn’t a type of person to leave his business unfinished. Especially, when that business involved annoying one specific, red-headed Jew. The three teens were, in Kenny’s words, locked the fuck in and focused on beating the level again (or as focused as their high minds let them. Yes, Kyle’s too.). He, acting as casually and innocent as possible, put out his joint on the ashtray. He then leaned into Kyle, closer than anyone could deem necessary. As the lanky teen was about to deliver the final blow in the game, he ‘accidentally’ pushed his arms, making Kyle miss the button. Cartman watched the screen in satisfaction, as the character’s life dropped to zero. The fight was over, the boss has won yet again. Maybe if his brain wasn’t so influenced by the half gram of OG kush he would have cared more about losing. But now, all that mattered to him was Kyle’s fuming expression.

“Cartman!” the redhead let out an enraged scream. “What the actual fuck?!”

Stan only groaned, accustomed to their fights. He was almost on cloud nine, but the two idiots just couldn’t hold a single minute of peace. To be fair, the ruined high irritated him more than the lost video game. Trying to beat the same level over and over again got boring at like, take six. Seven, if he was being generous. Kenny however, was having none of it. He threw his controller on the ground, as he got up from his spot on the carpet. He brushed off the chips crumbs that gathered on his shirt and made his way towards the stairs. 

“Fuck you guys, I’m going home.”

Kyle also got up, following the latter. “That was so totally not my fault! I didn’t do anything, that fat piece of shit pushed me on purpose!”

“Ay! Who are you calling fat?”

“All I wanted,” Kenny pointed an accusatory finger in their direction, his eyes narrowing. “was a nice evening of playing some good shit and smoking an even better one. If you two can’t control your weird kinks for each other, then I don’t see a point in staying here any longer.”

“Oh, c’mon!” It was Cartman’s turn to stand up, as Kyle made a disgusted face at the ‘kinks’ remark. “The Jew had it coming, he was acting all uptight, like he thinks he’s better than us. I was just protecting Stan’s honour!” 

The mentioned just raised his hands in surrender, not wanting to be a part of the fight. He understood Kenny’s frustration, the game had been beating their asses for quite some time and they were so close to finally winning just now. He looked at Kyle hoping that, for once, the taller boy wouldn’t escalate the things even further. But hope was the mother of fools. 

“Screw you, fatass!”

That was all the warning they got, as Kyle launched himself at Cartman. Them fighting physically was nothing new, that including over video games. This time, however, Kyle went in with everything he’d got. Maybe it was the weed buzzing in his system or all of the pent up frustration from the evening, but his punches were absolutely murderous. Cartman squealed like a dying pig, trying to at least protect his face. Kenny and Stan just watched them as they rolled all over the floor, fists flinging in the air. It was a usual occurrence for them, neither of the teens even reacting or trying to stop their friends.

Kyle was now sitting on top of the other, who was laying on his back defenseless. Their bodies were rocking in a steady but harsh rhythm, as the taller boy threw one hit after another. He might have been on the scrawnier side, less meat on all of his body combined than on Cartman’s left leg, but that did nothing to prevent him from beating the absolute shit out of him. Sheer willpower and hatred were fueling him on, as he kept punching. 

“Should we stop them, or…?” Stan finally spoke up, glancing at Kenny.

“Nah, let him let it all out.” Came the reply. “And that fat bastard deserves it anyway.”   

“Fuck, okay! I’m out Kyle, I’m out!” But the pleas fell deaf on Kyle’s ears.

He now repositioned himself, and was sitting directly on Cartman’s crotch. Were it any other circumstances, Kenny would have pointed out the double-meaningness of the position, but right now he felt that keeping his mouth shut was a much better idea. 

Their new arrangement made Kyle’s body sway back and forth even more, as he winded up every punch. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! I hate you—” then, he stopped abruptly. His fist hung mid air, as he looked down at Cartman with a new, unreadable expression. His freckles hid under a blush that was now starting to form on his face. The room went quiet and then…

“Cartman, are you… Are you hard?” 

There was no way to mistake the feeling for anything else, not that Kyle had a huge experience with grinding on another guy’s boner. But there, nestled between his buttcheeks, was definitely a rather… excited penis. He cringed at the thought and finally looked Cartman in the eyes.

It was hard to tell whether the red coating Cartman’s features came from blood smeared all over his face or if he was blushing too. Maybe a mix of both. Him and Kyle were now just staring at each other, tension thick in the air. The presence of other boys in the room was forgotten, as the question Kyle asked hung between them. The uncomfortable silence didn't last for long when Cartman pushed Kyle off of his abdomen violently, as if he was burned.

“Get the fuck off of me, you gaywad!” The scream held maliciousness, anger, but most of all — defensiveness. 

“Oh my God, this is brilliant.”

Stan elbowed Kenny, as the other boy couldn’t hide his amusement. He tried to stifle his giggles into the sleeve of his orange hoodie, but was failing spectacularly. The dark-haired teen watched the scene in front of him unfold with a worried expression, his drugged brain not comprehending half of it. What the fuck was going on?

Kyle got up from the floor slowly, clearly asking himself the same question. The problem was, he didn’t know what to follow it up with. ‘No offence, but I’m pretty sure I just felt your dick jam straight into my ass.’? Wow, okay, maybe not that. He mentally kicked himself. His lack of response seemed to only embarrass Cartman more. He looked around the room, glaring at Kenny, who started straight up laughing by now.

“Not my fault you decided to go all ‘cowgirl’ on me.” he stated matter-of-factly, trying and failing to keep his cool. “And guess what, retards. When you’ve got a twink grinding all up your dick, then that’s just the body's natural reaction. By the way, Kahl, put some meat on those bones, you won’t score any if you just rattle all over their business. A massive turn-off, if you ask me.”

“You sound so sure of that, and yet you’re the only one standing here with a boner.” Kyle snapped back, the comments about his physique making his eyebrow twitch. 

Kenny was now almost rolling on the floor from laughter, Stan only stood there, pinching his brow in annoyance. Did God really hate him that much, to make him friends with such idiots? He needed to start going to church again.

“Whatever, I’m done here, y’all are a bunch of fags anyway. Screw you guys, I’m going home.” With that Cartman made his way upstairs, pointedly avoiding eye contact with any of them.

Nobody commented that, technically, this was his house, as Stan and Kenny both turned their heads towards Kyle. The redhead was staring at the spot where Cartman just had been, his face twisted up in a conflicted expression. 

“So… my dear Kyle,” Kenny sang, still clearly very much enjoying the whole ordeal. “How does it feel to know that the Eric Cartman just popped a boner thanks to you?”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up.” The redhead groaned in embarrassment. 

He kicked an abandoned console laying on the carpet, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He would never admit it, but the feeling of Cartman, hot and bothered, underneath him did have some effect on him as well. He wasn’t hard, oh God, no. At least not like the other boy was. But the unmistakable tingling in his abdomen suggested that he was at least a bit turned on. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me? The pathetic, helpless thought circled around his brain. Stupid. This whole thing was stupid. There was absolutely no way that Cartman did actually have something for him specifically. 

The body's natural reaction. That’s what he called it. And that’s what Kyle was going to stick to. 

“Dude, don’t overthink it.” It would’ve been humiliating to admit it, but Kyle did flinch as Stan put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like it’s the end of the world, is it? So what if Cartman got a bit excited from you beating the absolute shit out of him? Who hasn't been in this kind of situation?” He chuckled at his attempt to lighten up the mood, but quickly shut up when he saw his best friend’s annoyed face.

But that was exactly the thing, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just Kyle basically jumping on Cartman’s dick that made the other hard. The fact that, while doing so, he was actively punching the guy in the face — to the point of bruising and bleeding — was what made this feel even more surreal. What kind of freak gets this turned on from something like that? 

The next morning Kyle woke up to a bunch of notifications on his phone. It was 10 a.m, his mom must have let him sleep in for a little longer, since she usually would have gotten him up for breakfast at at least 8:30. He decided not to question it any further, grateful for the extra sleep. After what happened yesterday with Cartman, he truly needed rest.

Kyle sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes furiously. He had to stop thinking about last night’s incident before he’d go insane. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone, scrolling through the group chat. First message was from Kenny at approximately 9:03 a.m:

rise and shine bitches, hop on the game just no gay escapades this time plz.

dude its 9 in the morning 

Stanley stop moaning and let me kick ur ass in valorant . or will u pop a boner from that cuz it happened once to a good friend of mine.

Kyle sighed, tired just from reading the first three. The jabs weren’t even directed specifically at him, but a sense of defensiveness rushed over his body. He scrolled further, not bothering to read Stan and Kenny’s back and forth about who’s better at Valorant. The game wasn’t good enough to be worth fighting over anyway, but that was his opinion. He reached the end of the conversation and noticed that Cartman was typing something just in that moment.

fuck u kenny.

He chuckled despite himself. The other teen took the words straight out of his mouth. A few seconds later new texts popped up on his screen:

even if i wanted to play with u fags i cant rn. 

too busy jerking it to the idea of kyle breaking your nose?

Kenny’s response time was almost impressive. Almost.

no ew shut up abt it already. that stupid bitch i call my mother wants us to go visit some family in utah fml

Liane Cartman was, in fact, a very sweet woman. Kyle still felt bad about calling her a whore throughout all of his childhood. She always cooked meals for the three of them when they visited and made sure they had everything they needed. Cartman calling her a bitch — alongside other not so feminist terms — was nothing new, still it made Kyle frown just a bit.

For how long? He typed, finally joining the conversation.

oh hello kyle how nice of u to finally grace us with ur presence. go log on discord i convinced stan to move his sorry ass and play with us

He ignored the other boy, waiting for Cartman’s response.

ill be gone for the whole weekend. miss me already jew? 

Don’t flatter yourself fatass.

aww this is so cute stop flirting u guys omg take it to the dms

stfu kenny

Kenny shut the fuck up.

Kyle thought about it. Two whole days without Eric Cartman’s presence might have been exactly what he needed right now. He logged into his Discord account, joining the voice chat. Stan and Kenny had clearly been at it for quite some time now. He didn’t really feel like playing, but could definitely use a distraction. 

“Hey Kyle.” Stan’s voice flowed through the headphones. He sounded groggy, as if someone just pushed him out of bed. “What’s up?”

“Done flirting with your sub?” Kyle already started to regret not rolling over and going back to sleep. A huge smile could’ve been heard in the blonde’s tone. He was enjoying this way too much for the other boy’s liking. 

“How is Cartman the submissive one though? Just because he’s into masochism doesn’t mean he’s the one to—”

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Kyle groaned, cutting Stan off.

He was fully aware that both of his friends were just joking around, trying to lighten him up. It didn’t change the fact that for him the whole situation was strangely serious. He couldn’t just brush it off, as some weird, unwanted feelings didn’t let him, twisting in his gut like a venomous snake. 

They finally dropped the subject after Kyle’s plea, returning their attention to the game. Kenny tried to make a few unfunny BDSM-related remarks, but was quickly shut down by the redhead with a go kill yourself, Kenny, seriously. 

Two hours later Kyle’s mother returned from her shopping trip, screaming at him for not cleaning up his room and wasting the day away playing ‘brain-rotting and violent’ video games. He said his goodbyes to the others and logged off to face the wrath of his birth giver.

Less to say, Kyle has spent the whole weekend in a rather… okay mood. After the Saturday dinner with his family, he finally managed to clear his mind off Cartman and his issues. He spent the two days studying for his upcoming physics test, a class he shared with the blue-eyed boy. He chased the thought away as quickly as he could. The material wasn't too complex and he found himself rather enjoying solving the various equations. Even the mental image of Cartman making fun of him for being ‘a faggy little nerd’ didn’t break his spirit. Fuck, he was constantly thinking about the other teen, wasn’t he? No matter what he told himself — much to Kyle’s dissatisfaction — Cartman was a huge part of his life. 

The fact that he had to actively stop himself from thinking about the other’s dick was even worse. He told himself that it was just his teenage hormones. When was even the last time he had jerked off? Yeah, that was exactly it. The memories of Cartman’s hard on pressed against his ass flooded his brain. The way he rocked against it, making it rub in every right place. The way it had felt. 

He wanted to cry. What the fuck was going on with him?

The dreadful Monday came a lot faster than Kyle would like it to. In the morning he got ready at a sluggish pace, trying to postpone the inevitable. His mother scolded him, claiming he was going to be late if he kept this up. He couldn’t even argue with her, after all, what was he going to say? ‘Sorry Ma, I just don’t want to face Eric Cartman, y’know, the guy I’ve known since I was five years old, because last time I saw him we got into a fight and he popped a boner’? 

“I guess I’m still a bit sleepy, sorry” Was what he finally decided on. “I’ve been studying ‘till 1 a.m last night.” That was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh my little bubbeh is so ambitious!” Sheila fawned over him, clearly satisfied with his answer. “But remember Kyle, giving yourself a break from time to time is important too.”

He nodded, as Ike rolled his eyes dramatically at the whole ordeal. He excused himself from the table, upon receiving a notification from Kenny:

kyle where r u? we r waiting for u outside with stannyboy

The blonde boy got his driving license in may, last year. Since then the three of them were driving his dad’s falling apart pick up truck to and from school. It was nice not having to ride the crowded bus with screaming teenagers throwing food all over the vehicle. Instead, it was only him and his friends doing so. Cartman also drove a car, his mother’s old SUV to be exact. But the teen claimed he didn’t want any of their sticky, dirty hands all over the car hood, and so he always came to school by himself. Kyle had promised his mother that he would get his own license soon. Been saying so for at least two years now. 

He made his way towards the front door, saying his goodbyes to Ike and mom. He immediately spotted (technically) Stuart McCormick’s shabby car parked in their driveway. The redhead scrambled into the back seat, Stan already sitting in the front with Kenny. 

“You sure did take your sweet time.”

“Shut up, Kenny. My mom held me back, something about me being an overachiever.”

“Isn’t she the one who always pushes you to do all the academic shit anyway?” Stan questioned, lighting up a joint. 

“Ew, dude, don’t smoke in the car. Roll down the window at least.” Kyle’s nose scrunched up, as the smell of weed and a cloud of smoke reached him. “And yeah, but I made up some bullshit about staying up late just to study for today’s exam and—”

“Woah, hold up, what exam?”

“Oh my God Stan. The physics one? I have literally reminded you about it yesterday.” Kyle rubbed his temples.

He was already annoyed the second he woke up, the prospect of having to deal with his friends’ bullshit making his already sour mood worse. His throat was itchy from the smoke piling up in the vehicle, making him tear up.

Kyle didn’t have half a mind to pay attention to Stan’s attempt at excuses, as he reached forward, snatching the joint from the other teen’s hand. He took a long drag and exhaled slowly, the feeling of warmth and relaxation taking over his body almost instantly. 

“Hypocrite.” Stan said, crossing his arms. 

“Good for you, bro. But could you at least leave some for the poor ol’ me?”

Kyle pointedly ignored Kenny, inhaling another puff of smoke. By the time they reached the school, he was positively high as a kite. Usually, Kyle wasn’t the one to smoke before school, especially not before an important exam. That was more of a Kenny thing — with Stan joining him occasionally — but today wasn’t a day Kyle wanted to face sober. Screw his perfect grades, screw his stupid life and most importantly, screw Eric Cartman.

Speaking of the devil, all three of them almost jumped in their seats as they heard a knock on the car’s window. 

“Are y’all done lezzing out in the backseat? Because class starts in two minutes.” Cartman’s voice was muffled by the glass, but the snarky comment could be heard loud and clear.

Kyle looked up at the other boy, his eyelids feeling heavy and his mind swimming. Maybe smoking a quarter of a joint at 7:30 in the morning wasn’t such a good idea. 

Cartman of course noticed the redhead’s unnatural expression. “What’s up with the Jew?” He asked in the other two boys’ direction, quirking an eyebrow. 

“He’s absolutely lost in the sauce dude. Let him be.” Kenny smirked.

“Oh my God, seriously? This uptight bitch?” Despite his state, Kyle felt his mouth twitch downward at the comment. “What made the, oh so high and mighty, Kyle Broflovski pop a skunk before school?”

“Your annoying ass.” He grumbled, getting out of the car. The moment his feet landed on the ground, however, he stumbled forward. He didn’t even have time to brace for the impact, as a pair of arms caught him mid-fall. He looked up, straight into Cartman’s eyes. 

They couldn’t have been staring at each other for more than a few seconds, but to Kyle it felt like hours. Curse his drugged brain. He blamed the weird feeling in his stomach and a hotness of his cheeks on that as well. 

“Get off of me, you fatso.” He tried to push Cartman away, the brown-haired boy letting him. 

“Wow, fuck you. Next time I’ll just let you fall, ungrateful bitch.”

The air felt thick. Them bickering shouldn’t be anything out of ordinary, but to Kyle the whole world seemed louder. More saturated. More… everything. Including Cartman’s hands on him. Stan cleared his throat, sensing the weird tension. 

“Let’s just go or we’re gonna be late. It’s too early for you guys’ fighting anyway.”

As they made their way towards the entrance, Kyle got hit by yet another ground-breaking realization. His first class was art history. Something he not only shared with Cartman, but was partnered with for the project. Which meant only one thing — a whole forty five minutes of trying to sober up before the exam, while actively trying to ignore the other’s presence. It shouldn’t sound this hard, but it did. He couldn’t believe he thought weed would make any of this better. Enduring Cartman on a daily basis was one thing. But while trying to suppress the weird feelings after last Friday night, on the top of being high? He raised his eyes towards the sky, praying for God to just smite him already.

He waved to Stan and Kenny, as they parted ways. The latter had biology in the right wing, while the other went straight to the P.E hall. Please don’t leave me alone here with him Kyle thought pathetically, as he watched them go. 

“Jew, we better hurry, or we’re seriously gonna be late. Not that I care, but you’ve already got enough sand in your vagina today and I don’t want to hear you bitch and moan for the rest of the day about it.” 

“There’s no sand in my vagina!”

Kyle barely made it through the art history class. His high started to wear off after twenty minutes and he should be happy that it did, but it only made him feel even more like shit. It seemed that ignoring Cartman only fueled him on more. He kept throwing pieces of paper at Kyle, trying to annoy the redhead as much as humanly possible. When that didn’t work, he resolved to repeatedly kicking him under the table and even tried to flick his ear once. 

“Are you five? Or just retarded?” Kyle finally snapped, louder than he intended. A few heads turned their way as the teacher called out his name.

“Mr. Broflovski, please refrain from using this kind of language in my class, or you will have to visit the principal’s office.”

“But it wasn’t my fault—!” The pointed look he received in return had shut him up almost immediately. 

The teacher, Mrs. Robinson, was what Kyle could only describe as a ‘mean, old, dried-up skank’. She was a skinny, tall woman in her sixties with veiny hands, a wrinkled face and poorly dyed brown hair. Loose gray strands escaped her tight bun, making her look like a crazed, mentally-unstable witch. At least to Kyle. It didn’t help that since they started art history last semester, she clearly had it out for him. He couldn’t even breathe freely without her yappy voice threatening him with being sent to the principal. He truly hated that woman.

As Kyle curled up in his desk, he heard Cartman snickering. His blood boiled, but he knew there was nothing he could’ve done about it now. He made a mental note to give the other teen a piece of his mind during the break.

“What’s with the face?” Stan asked, as the four met up after the bell rang. Kyle was almost fully sober by then, staring daggers into Cartman, who was chatting with Kenny next to them. 

“Ask the piece of lard over there.”

Stan gave the mentioned a questioning look, to which the boy smiled devilishly. 

“Kyle got in trouble with Mrs. Robinson again.” He stated matter-of-factly, the smirk not leaving his face. He gave the redhead a smug look. 

“I didn’t get in trouble with shit, fatass! You’ve been purposefully trying to make me react to your stupid games, you knew what you were doing and it’s all your fault!”

“No, I’m pretty sure you called me an offensive slur. I’ve got a whole class and the teacher as witnesses. Not very PC of you, Kahl.”

“It's not my fault you are mentally stunted.”

“At least I’m not a stupid Jew!”

In a prospect it was childish of him to react that way to something so small, but Kyle threw himself at Cartman, fists tight and ready to punch. Maybe it was all the pent up emotions he’s been holding in for the past two days. Or maybe he just let the other get to him this easily. It didn’t matter. All he cared about now was punching the living hell out of the larger boy. Cartman tried, and failed miserably, to get the upper hand in the fight. Kyle spat out some blood, as the other managed to land a hit to his jaw. He returned it with double the strength, giving the other teen a black eye. By now a small crowd had formed around them, some people cheering them on. Kenny whipped out his beat up IPhone 4 to record the whole thing, amused. 

“Goddammit, Kahl! Stop!”

But Kyle ignored the begging. He had had enough of Cartman constantly riling him up, doing everything just to get a reaction out of him. Well, there it was. The, oh so awaited, response. 

Kyle felt the adrenaline rush through his veins as he landed one punch after another. Completely lost in the high of the fight, he didn’t notice Cartman’s hand going for his hair. He grabbed the red locks and pulled hard. Kyle swayed to the left, which gave his opponent some time to react. He threw Kyle to the ground, getting on top of him. The taller boy felt the air get punched out of his lungs, as the mass of Cartman’s legs pinned him to the cold floor. He braced for the hit, but none came. Instead, Cartman held both of his wrists above his head, leaning closer into his personal space. 

“Do you always have to try to solve your problems in the physical way, Jew?” He sneered, as he spat up some blood near Kyle’s right ear. 

He looked at the other boy. Cartman looked downright terrible. The bruise on his eye was starting to swell up and turn an ugly, purple color. He had a split lip and his hair was completely disheveled. Sweat coated his whole body with two large stains formed on his shirt, under the armpits. Kyle was sure he couldn’t have looked much better himself. He felt a streak of blood drip from his nose, reaching his busted lip. The metallic taste in his mouth was almost overwhelming. 

His gaze flickered up, making eye-contact. He expected to start a glaring match, but Cartman didn’t seem to be angry at all.

No, his eyes were happy. The bastard was smiling. His pupils blown not in mutual exasperation, but instead glistening with amusement. 

That’s when the realization hit him. If he stopped the fight right now, it would probably be a more successful way to piss the other off than if he continued. Cartman was getting off on this. He probably always had. 

It would be unbecoming to hit Cartman again. Probably only make things worse for Kyle. 

He wrestled his wrists free and threw another punch. 

He didn’t know why he did that. The fight was basically over by now, he could’ve just pushed Cartman off and walked away. But all he cared about was stopping the train of thoughts that was running through his brain. 

The sudden strike caught Cartman off guard, as he stumbled backwards. He wasn’t prepared for Kyle’s instantaneous recovery, his face and body now receiving — even more intense than before — hits from redhead’s bruised fists. By that point, they were both enjoying this equally as much. Though Kyle did hope it wasn’t as obvious on his face as it was on Cartman’s. 

Every punch filled Kyle with an immense feeling of satisfaction. It should have scared him, but instead felt just right. He pondered if that’s what the other had experienced every time they had physically fought. For Kyle the feeling was new, he usually resolved to beating the other only if he had pushed him hard enough. But now that he noticed it once, looking back at their previous brawls, it all had made sense. The constant name-calling and provoking, as if Cartman was waiting for him to strike first. And the fact that he did relish in this just as much. 

After what might have been minutes as much as hours, someone had grabbed his arm mid-air, calling his name.

“Kyle, that’s enough! You’re gonna kill him!” It was Stan. His best friend had a panicked look on his face, as he pulled him away from Cartman. Shit, maybe he did go overboard this time. 

Looking at the beat up, bloodied teen still laying on the cold tile floor, he suddenly felt nothing but shame. All the previous adrenaline and amusement vanished in mere seconds, leaving him pale with the realization of what he had just done. He had lost control. And that was the nice way to put it. 

Kyle glanced around him. The crowd that had formed was now dead silent. The only sound that could be heard was Cartman’s grunting as he tried to stand up, a pained expression on his features. What Kyle didn’t miss though, was a look of utter delight still dancing around the teen’s pupils. He really was a psycho, wasn’t he?

It was too much, it was all too much. 

Kyle struggled his way out of Stan’s grip, running towards the boys’ restroom. He ignored the dark-haired boy shouting his name as he pushed through the swarm of teenagers, pointedly keeping his eyes downcast to avoid making any eye-contact. He could have sworn he had heard Cartman’s voice too, but decided to ignore it. 

He pushed the door hard, making it swing wide open with a loud creak. He was pretty sure he was hyperventilating by the time he made his way to the sinks. He regretted looking into the mirror the second he did so. His face was all purples and yellows, a streak of blood dripping from his split lip, mixing with the one from his nose. The red locks on his head were a mess, some stuck together by more of the fluid. He wasn’t sure if it was Cartman’s or his. He turned the faucet on and splashed a handful of water on his face, the cold soothing the pain just the tiniest bit. 

He almost didn’t register a sound of stall doors opening, until he felt another presence next to him. Kyle looked up at the reflection, now showing two people standing by the sink. It was Butters. One of the last people he wanted to talk to right now. No offence to the other boy, but in Kyle’s current state he didn’t think he would have been any help. More of an annoyance at best. 

The blonde teen was on the shorter side, his light hair had grown out into a shaggy mullet. None of the four really talked to him anymore. Somewhere around middle school he had stopped following them around and trying to join them on their escapades.. He probably finally got enough of Cartman’s constant jabs and Stan and Kyle ignoring him. Kenny was the only one to somewhat keep in touch with the boy throughout the years. If it wasn’t for Kyle almost having a panic attack just now, he would’ve probably felt bad facing him after all that time. 

Butters clearly tried to pretend like he wasn’t  obnoxiously staring at the redhead, but the latter couldn’t really blame him anyway. He looked like a mess. A bloody, bruised, on the verge of tears mess. He finally met the other’s eyes.

“Oh, hello there Kyle!” Butters awkwardly smiled, acting as if he just noticed the other teen. 

“...Hi.”

“You look awfully battered up. What happened?” 

Kyle was almost positive that he didn’t truly care and was just being nosy, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Got into a fight.” He replied, stating the obvious. “With Cartman.” He added, as if that wasn’t the most predictable answer too. 

“Well, you better head to the nurse’s office, you poor fella. These bruises look quite painful.” He patted him gently on the shoulder, hesitating just for a second. They haven’t really spoken in a long time, after all. 

“Don’t know if I want to, to be honest.” Kyle replied truthfully. “I’ll stay here for a bit longer, you don’t have to worry about me and just go to class.”

“It would’ve been so nasty of me to leave you here all alone, though!”

This is exactly what I want, Kyle thought. His face was probably showing the growing irritation, because Butters stepped back slightly. But he still didn’t move an inch towards the exit. Instead, he grabbed a paper towel, putting it under the running water and handing it to Kyle with a small smile. 

“Here, use it to clean out some of that blood.”

Kyle did appreciate the gesture, doing as he was told. From the corner of his eye he saw the other fidgeting with his hands, obviously wanting to say something. 

“What?” He asked, bluntly. 

“Nothin’! Just wondering what got you all shaken up like this, you and Eric fight all the time.”

For a split second Kyle was planning on just ignoring the poor guy, but he was struck by an overwhelming urge to get it all out of his system. All the repressed emotions and thoughts made their way out, as he broke down. He was probably going to regret it later, ranting to a boy who was basically a stranger to him.

“Last weekend we were all hanging out and Cartman was a bitch like always and then we fought and he got a boner and I can’t stop thinking about it. Was it the fight, or me, or the fact that I was grinding on him? I mean, fuck, I wasn’t, but he said I was, anyway,” He stopped to take a breath. “And Kenny said that it was a BDSM thing, but he says stupid shit all the time. I don’t know, could it be? So I tried to forget all about it, but now we fought again and Cartman was smiling and it made me so angry, but also… I don’t know, realize that I enjoyed it just as much? Which is dumb, because I obviously don’t. I hate him, he hates me there’s nothing more to it, there can’t be. We’ve been basically enemies since childhood, he’s an annoying, antisemitic, bigoted prick and I despise everything about him. But now, it’s all messed up and I don’t understand anything about our already fucked up relationship anymore!”

He felt as if he just ran a marathon, but also a great weight had been lifted from his chest. Butters was staring at him dumbfounded, trying to take it all in.

“Sorry, that was kind of a lot…”

“No, no! Don’t apologize! I just don’t understand, when did you realize you actually don’t hate him?” Butters asked.

“Never said I don’t hate him.” Kyle frowned. “I just… What do you call it when you want to touch someone in a physical way, but you don't really like them?  But you still want to look at them?”

“...Sexual attraction?”

Oh.

It was much worse when Butters was the one pointing this all out. The word ‘sex’ sounded a lot heavier when it wasn’t paired with Kenny’s teasing voice. 

Kyle felt himself getting red in the face, humiliation bubbling in his chest. 

“Fuck you, Butters.” Was all he said, as he left the restroom, leaving the blonde boy sulk with confusion. 

He raced towards the classroom, having half the mind to remember about the physics exam. He desperately wanted to go home, lock himself in his room and never come out. Sexual attraction. That was just hilarious. He didn’t feel like laughing though. 

Kyle hadn’t gotten far, only making it past the corner, as he came face to face with a hallway monitor. The expression the teen made suggested that the redhead was exactly the one he had been looking for. 

“Kyle Broflovski? The principal is asking for you to come to his office.”

Fuck, he should have seen it coming. Him and Cartman did make a huge scene, almost killing each other. It would've been a miracle if nobody from the teaching staff saw them bloodied and rolling on the floor. 

As he approached the headroom, he noticed that Cartman was there too, already waiting to be let in on one of the lined up chairs in front of the door. He made a point of not looking at the boy, sitting as far from him as possible. 

“Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski, come in.” 

The principal, Mr. Bennet, was a short man on the heavier side. His thick mustache always hid a frown underneath it, making the man look constantly displeased. He was nothing like their elementary and middle school principal, no muscular arms or progressive opinions. Kyle never thought he would, but he missed the other man and his sometimes-too-woke beliefs. 

Mr. Bennet looked at them disapprovingly, signaling with his head for them to take a seat. 

“Boys, I believe you both know why you were called here. This is your fifth time getting caught physically fighting in the hallways. I believe you understand why such behaviour cannot go unpunished.” He turned his eyes towards Kyle. “Mr. Broflovski, this is your first serious offence, but seeing the damage you’ve caused to Mr. Cartman’s face, I hope you will understand why I can’t let you off the hook. One week suspension.”

Before Kyle could protest, the man already started speaking to the teen sitting next to him.

“And as of you Mr. Cartman. This isn’t the first time I’m seeing you here, in my office. I can’t condemn such behaviour on my school grounds. Two week suspension for you. You both can go home now and tend to your… wounds.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Bennet, I know that what we did was wrong. But we have a huge physics exam and it’s happening right now. I can’t fail it, my mom will kill me!” Kyle objected weakly. 

The principal raised his right hand, efficiently silencing him.

 “I think your mother will be more concerned with the bruises on your face, Mr. Broflovski. You may correct the grade once you return from suspension. No buts, you both may leave.”

By the time they left the school building Kyle was absolutely furious. His whole body was sore and his lip started to pulse painfully. The image of facing his mom and confronting her on not only the failed exam, but also his first in his high school history suspension made his blood run cold. Sheila Broflovski could be a very scary woman when angry, that much was known to every South Park citizen. 

He didn’t notice Cartman reaching to touch his arm, the contact making him flinch. The other teen was about to say something when Kyle pushed his hand off of him and shoved right past him. He didn’t miss the weird look on Cartman’s face as he stormed off without a word. A mix of regret and mischief. The latter one only pissed him off more. It was all Cartman’s fault, including his unwanted sexuality crisis. If the boy didn’t have a fetish for getting his face smashed into the ground, then none of it would’ve been happening right now. The angry thoughts followed him all the way home. His phone was buzzing non stop, missed calls and messages coming from Stan, Kenny and now his mother too. 

“Kyle! What in God's name happened to you?!” Sheila opened the door, her loud voice making his head hurt. “I’ve already called your father, you have some explaining to do young man!”

Before she could open her mouth to ask about anything else, he walked past her and straight to his room. He mumbled something about ‘needing a moment’ as he ignored his mother’s questions about the school calling her. He closed the door to his room behind him, the now screaming muffled by the wood. 

Kyle wasn’t the one to disrespect his parents like that, but the headache that his wounds and racing thoughts caused him made it impossible to care right now. 

He had spent the evening locked in his bedroom, thinking. After enduring Sheila and Gerald’s (but mostly Sheila’s) scolding for at least an hour, he had officially been grounded. No computer or hanging out with his friends for the whole time period of the suspension. What was he, five? But it didn’t matter, the prospect of just being all by himself in the safe space of his room for the whole week seemed like exactly what he needed. A time to cool off. 

To stop thinking about Eric Cartman and everything surrounding the other boy. 

At least, that’s what he believed at first. After a few hours of just sitting around he started pacing anxiously, all the adrenaline from the day still not leaving his body. He didn’t know what to do with himself, trying to read or study was hopeless, he couldn’t even focus on one sentence. 

He scrolled on his phone for a while. He didn’t even register it as he opened the incognito tab, his fingers typing by themselves. The screen illuminated his face, as he clicked the first link, PornHub’s front page popping up. 

Kyle was never a romantic person, he didn’t care about dating, focusing more on his studies. The concept of his sexuality was something foreign to him, he never cared to explore it in any way. He liked what he liked, believed to be bi-curious at best. 

So, he typed in his usual search: plus size with monster cock. 

Without even looking he clicked into the first video that showed up, impatient to relieve all the stress he’s been carrying for the past week. ‘Fat daddy rails a bratty twink with his thick cock’ said the title. Yeah, that’ll do just fine.

The loud, obnoxious moans filled the room, as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans. The man in the video was huge, all fat and muscles. He was pounding into a skinny, young male underneath him, doggy style. Kyle couldn’t see their faces, not that it mattered. He started to palm himself through the underwear, his cock already stiffening from the contact. He sighed in relief and satisfaction and started clumsily shuffling himself out of his boxers after a few minutes of teasing. Now only in his t-shirt and socks, he leaned against the wall behind his bed. 

The porn actors changed their positions as well, the twink now riding the other male. The top’s head was now fully visible, his short brown hair disheveled and sticking to his sweaty forehead. Kyle moved his hand up and down along his hard length, the pace speeding up slightly. He thought about everything he had to endure for the past week. The fight, the humiliation and that stupid asshole Cartman.

Cartman.

He was now stroking his cock at a maddening speed, the visions of his sworn enemy flooding his mind. The way he looked all bloody and bruised up beneath him. How his knuckles came to contact with the smug face, it being almost as unbearably painful as it was to the other.

The video in front of him was long forgotten as Kyle came with a long whine at the thought of Cartman pinning him to the floor and hitting him back. The image of his own face turning purple from bruises the other gave him, not being able to escape the tight grip of his big, strong arms made him spill into his own hand with some of it dropping down on his stomach. 

The sounds from his phone still played loud and clear, bouncing off the walls as if to mock him. The realization of what he has just done hit him like a five-ton truck. The post nut clarity made it all more intense, as an ugly feeling of shame and regret clouded his mind. 

He just came to a thought of Eric Cartman beating the living shit out of him. 

The next morning he got woken up by his mother at 7 a.m. She told him she’s dropping Ike off to school and heading out for the rest of the day. 

“I expect to find your room all cleaned up by the time I’m home. And you better be studying.” Was all she said to him before leaving.

He got up ungracefully, almost falling over as he stumbled out of the bed. He made his way towards the bathroom, pointedly avoiding looking into the mirror. He knew what he would find there: a mess of red curls sticking in all of the directions, framing a beaten up face. His right cheek was swollen painfully, the ugly, purple shade of it contrasting with his pale skin. The cut on his lip was scabbed, the crusty feeling making him physically recoil. In simpler words — he looked absolutely terrible. And felt even worse. 

Kyle made himself some breakfast — scrambled eggs and a slice of dry bread — and went back upstairs. He was home alone, his father at work. The expected feeling of freedom a teenager left all by himself in the security of his own place should feel nowhere to be found. Instead, he felt trapped. 

Cornered by the memories of what he did the previous evening. 

He desperately wanted to talk to someone, seek any form of advice he could get. His mind immediately landed on Stan, he was his ‘super best friend’ after all.

Kyle found his phone buried under the pillows. He scrolled through all of his contacts, finally landing on Stan. He opened the messages, not bothered to read all of the ones the other teen had left him from yesterday. 

Hey. Can we talk?

He typed, not expecting to receive a reply almost immediately. Stan was probably with Kenny in the latter’s car, on their way to school. The phone, however, dinged after what seemed to be just a few seconds. 

KYLE DUDE OMG WHERE HAVE U BEEN

i called u like a million times wtf happened???

Kyle decided to ignore his friend’s questions, typing one himself instead:

Can I call you?

The answer came in the form of his IPhone vibrating violently with an upcoming call. He picked up with trembling fingers.

“Hey, dude.”

“Don’t ‘hey dude’ me, you prick!” 

Kyle had to move the device away from his ear, Stan’s aggravated screams making him jump. No, not aggravated. Worried. 

“Where the fuck have you been?! I’ve been trying to call or text you since yesterday! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“Sorry, I was… a bit overwhelmed.”

“‘Overwhelmed’ my ass. Everyone was so worried about you, you basically ran away after that fight with Cartman. I heard you both got suspended, too.” Stan fortunately had stopped yelling, opting instead for a fast-paced, emotional tone. 

“Are you with Kenny right now? I wanna talk to you about something.” Kyle asked.

“No, I’m waiting for him to pick me up, he should be here any second now. Why?”

“Okay so, please don’t freak out.” The redhead took a large breath, bracing himself. “Basically, after I stormed off I went to the restroom. I met Butters there, which was kinda awkward by the way. He said something… weird. Essentially, that I want to fuck Cartman. I told him to fuck off, obviously. But then, after I went home, I was jacking off, right? And well, I might have kind of thought of Cartman while doing it. Which could mean nothing. It means nothing. But what should I do now?

He was met with silence and for a second Kyle wondered if the line might have gone dead. The rustling on the other end proved him wrong, as the other boy finally spoke up:

“You guys had always had a fucked up relationship.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Kyle frowned, not satisfied with the answer at all. He expected his friend to lose his shit for a little bit, then comfort him with a bunch of excuses about teenage hormones. 

“What I mean,” Stan sighed. “is that you two are basically obsessed with one another. And before you cut me off, just hear me out, okay? You and Cartman hate each other, are fighting all the time and you both swear you are enemies. But then, why did none of you ever decide to just… I don’t know, stop talking? I’ll tell you why. Because you guys have some weird, serious fucking tension, and and to sound like Kenny, but should honestly just bang to resolve it. You lie to yourself all the time, acting like you want nothing to do with Cartman, but somehow always return to him and endure all of his stupid games. I think all the answers you want are in what apparently happened yesterday. You do want to fuck him dude, just admit it.”

“You’re not making any—”

“No, Kyle! I’m tired of all your bullshit! Everyone is! You two need to grow a pair of balls and confess to each other, instead of playing around like a bunch of teenage girls. Very violent, fucked in the head teenage girls, but still.”

Kyle wasn’t prepared for anything he had just heard. Maybe calling Stan so early in the morning wasn’t such a great idea. His friend was always in a bad mood after waking up, the reminder of that in the way he went off at Kyle. 

The idea of everybody apparently noticing the nature of their relationship before him made his insides twist painfully. Were him and Cartman really that obvious? But then, in what way were they obvious? That they seemingly both wanted to have sex with each other?

“Kyle, are you there? Sorry I screamed at you like that.” Stan’s now apologetic voice brought him back to reality, as the redhead put the phone back to his ear.

“It’s okay dude. I guess you’re right, I’m going to start ignoring Cartman from now on.”

“No, you stupid asshole! That’s not what I—!”

But Kyle had already hung up. His mind was made up. His friend was correct, if he truly hated Cartman he should have stopped interacting with him a long time ago. And that was exactly what he planned: the second he stepped back onto the school grounds Eric Cartman was going to become nonexistent in his eyes. 

Kyle had been ignoring all of his friends for the past two days. His phone was heavy with the amount of missed texts and calls from both Stan and Kenny. He was pretty sure he had seen Cartman’s contact popping up there a few times as well, but not his problem now. He was a changed man. He delusionally kept telling himself that everything was going to be okay now, his life easier without the brown-haired boy in it. His mom was still angry with him, his father shooting him disapproving looks every time he poked his head out of his bedroom. He didn’t care. 

Kyle spent his days studying and reading some old comics he had found at the bottom of his wardrobe. He didn’t think about masturbating even once, deciding that from now on he was becoming a cellibate. What good came from jacking off anyway? He should try out meditation instead. 

“Why are you smiling like this? It’s creeping me out.” Ike had asked him at breakfast, giving his sibling a suspicious look. 

“I have found myself, brother. I am becoming a monk, content with my life and who I’m sharing my time with.”

“Ma, Kyle’s being weird!”

“You both better stop goofing around and just eat your food. Ike, you’re gonna be late for school if you don't hurry up!” Sheila shouted back from the kitchen.  

It was already long past midnight as Kyle was still up playing some kind of stupid Candy Crush type of game on his phone mindlessly. That’s what his life had become. Rotting in his bedroom, not interacting with anyone except for his family. He almost replied to one of Kenny’s texts once, feeling bad. He hadn’t talked to the blonde since the fight and he missed his friend. Whatever, Stan had probably filled him in on everything anyway. 

A sudden loud noise coming from his window startled him. For a split second he thought he might have fallen asleep and was dreaming, because there, behind the glass, was none other than Eric fucking Cartman. 

Kyle was frozen in place. His heart jumped straight into his throat as the other managed to open the locks and crashed onto the floor. The larger boy had the nerve to look proud of himself, like breaking into his bedroom was an achievement worthy of applause. The anger quickly replaced the confusion, as Kyle screamed.

“What the fuck?!”

Kyle stood up from his bed, furious and exhausted, as he knew that whatever stupid reason Cartman had for being there was about to become his problem whether he liked it or not.

“Well, hello there Kyle. Nice seeing you here.” He smiled, fake politeness palpable from a mile away.

“This is my house and my room, fatass. What do you think you’re doing?”

The redhead felt himself tense up, his senses on high alert. He watched Cartman’s every move, as the teen started striding around his bedroom as if he owned the place. 

“Decided to pay you a visit, since you’ve been ignoring us like the bitch you are.” Cartman scoffed.

“Us?”

“Me, Kenny, your little boyfriend Stan. Even Butters texted me once, could you believe it? Whole town is making your stupid, hissy fit into my problem somehow.” 

“Stan’s not—” He cut himself off. That wasn’t important right now. “What do you want? ‘Cause there’s no way you came all the way here just because you care about my wellbeing.”

“Of course I don’t. Can’t say I enjoy being ignored, though.” The look on Cartman’s face was unreadable. “And I came here because after our fight I had to go to the hospital to get stitches. Look at my poor, handsome face… All bruised up now, thanks to you. I think it’s only fair you help to cover that, don’t you think so too, Kahl?” 

“Fuck you, I’m not giving you shit!”

“A Jew refusing to pay, what a surprise.”

Kyle has been doing great these past few days in getting his emotions under control. He realized that the yelling and surprise attacks weren’t going to get him anywhere when faced with a douchebag the size of Cartman. 

So, using up all of the Zen energy he collected lately, he fixed his voice into a calm tone and took a tangible step forward. 

“You stupid son of a bitch,” He began gently. “All our lives you’ve done nothing, but be an annoying pain in my asshole. No matter what I do, you’re always near to ruin it for me. You know, I studied for that physics test. I was going to get an A. Not to mention, I haven’t so much as gotten a detention before in that school. And now…” He trailed off to seem as menacing as he could. “Now you’ve ruined it all for me again.”

Throughout his perfectly calm speech, Kyle walked closer towards Cartman until the guy was backed against the wall. He was all up in his personal space by now. 

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Cartman’s eyebrow was quirked up as if Kyle’s words not only didn’t scare him, but served to fuel his perverted urges. 

There was no way he was going to let him get away with this. Not this time and never again. 

Kyle extended his arm and wrapped his hand around the other boy’s neck. 

“I’m gonna kill you, fatass.” He gritted out through his teeth. His hand hurt from how much he was straining it out, but he made sure to grip as tightly as he could. 

“If you wanna choke me, maybe use both hands.”

It was infuriating, but Cartman was right. Kyle placed his other hand on the neck and applied pressure.

He watched as the other teen’s face started to slowly turn red. He almost let himself feel satisfaction at the prospect of making Cartman shut up, but then a poorly restrained moan sounded the room. He honest to God moaned.

Kyle couldn't believe it. This psycho was basically at his mercy and happy about it. All he knew was that he needed to make that smile disappear. 

He did the only sensible thing that came to his mind. He leaned closer, closing the small gap between them and pressed his lips against Cartman’s.

The other seemed to be frozen in shock for a moment, but quickly recovered and started to kiss him back. Kyle felt every inch of it, the fuzzy sensation on his lips, the wetness of the other's tongue, the bob of his Adam’s apple underneath his palms. What am I even doing? He thought, panic started to settle in. He tried to pull away, but a pair of large hands stopped his head from moving.

Cartman’s fingers grabbed the hair at the back of Kyle’s scalp, pushing him closer. 

Their tongues swirled together in a heated dance. Kyle was panting into the other’s mouth by then, overwhelmed from all the stimulation. He didn’t notice it happening, but somehow they ended up on the floor, Kyle positioned on top of Cartman. Their kisses got more passionate with every passing second, Cartman’s hands roaming all over the redhead’s lean back. Kyle felt the hot fingers sliding underneath his green t-shirt, the skin to skin contact making his mind swim. 

“Fuck, do you realize how long I’ve wanted this?” 

According to Stan, since forever. Kyle thought. The idea, however, didn’t frighten him just as much as it used to two days ago. Now the feeling of a warm mouth licking into his was all he could focus on. He replied with a soft moan, which turned into a whine as Cartman started to kiss down his neck. He automatically rolled his hips as the other sucked on an especially sensitive spot. 

Cartman was hard underneath him, his erection nestled between Kyle’s clothed buttcheeks.

“I think I’m having a deja vu.” The teen smirked. 

“God, shut the fuck up.” Was all Kyle replied with, as he started to lick into the other’s mouth again. 

Cartman only chuckled, which sounded suspiciously like a What a brat. Kyle didn’t pay it any attention, the feeling of his own pants getting tighter below the belt something he couldn’t ignore for much longer. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Cartman reached between them, his hands starting to unzip Kyle’s jeans. The second he tried to slide them off though, Kyle froze.

“What are we doing?” He asked and the question felt heavy on his tongue.

“What does it look like we’re doing, Jew?” Cartman scoffed, clearly wanting to get back to kissing instead of having any pointless conversations. “You’re hard and I’m hard. We are simply helping each other out here.”

“Is that all it is then? Just two bros giving each other a hand?” Kyle asked, a weird sensation bubbling in his chest. He couldn’t call it disappointment though, that would have been humiliating.

“Do you want it to be something more?”

More.

The implication behind the word made Kyle’s heart stop in his chest. Did he want it? But what exactly was the it? He did like the idea of them having sex, sure, but was there anything else? 

“You’re thinking too much.” Cartman’s voice snapped him out of the trance. He looked at him, making eye contact. There was no uncertainty in the other’s eyes. Just a raw, unmistakable desire. 

Cartman was right, what was there to think about? They were going to fuck, help each other out with their crazy hormones and call it a day. No underlying meanings, just two friends kissing to let the steam off with no feelings attached—

“Stop it.”

Kyle sat up, surprised by the sudden harshness in Cartman’s tone. 

“I’ve been dreaming about having you here, like this, since I learned how to jack off. Fuck, I’m literally obssessed with you, everything you do, the way you walk, talk and exist. You're so passionate and vibrant, I can’t go a day without thinking about your stupid face. So God forbid if I let your dumbass brain overthink this whole thing to the point where you don’t want it anymore.” He searched for Kyle’s eyes, his voice uncannily sincere. “Kyle, I don’t care if for you this is simply transactional. I've prayed for a chance like this, to have you want to touch me in any other way than by kicking my teeth in. I want this. I want you.” 

“But… but you hate me…” Kyle tried to protest weakly, his brain turning into a mush.

“I only acted like it, because I believed you did.” Cartman sighed. “How else was I going to get your attention, if not by making you absolutely pissed off? It’s the only time when you noticed me.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know. But it was always worth it.”

That’s what did it for Kyle, all of the unease leaving his body upon hearing the confession. He launched himself at Cartman, pinning him to the carpet. They kissed with double the fervor, their hands touching everywhere they could reach. 

Kyle slid down and threw away his pants, leaving his legs bare for the other to run his fingers across the freckled skin. The jeans landed somewhere behind the desk, something that was going to be a problem for future Kyle. He was now openly grinding on Cartman’s crotch, the latter letting out soft grunts, as he grabbed Kyle’s hips to make the moves smoother and more intense. They were both painfully hard, Cartman’s clothed cock still hidden beneath two layers of clothing.

Kyle was having none of it. 

He stopped mid-motion, grabbing the hem of the other’s sweatpants. He looked into the baby blue eyes, searching for permission. Cartman nodded his head vigorously, his face lightening up with delightment. 

What greeted Kyle was so above his expectations he almost choked on saliva. The bulge was huge, boxers straining from the sheer size of it. He would never admit it out loud, as to not stroke the other’s ego, but he was almost impressed. Almost, because the rest of him felt fear beginning to form inside his mind. Where exactly did Cartman intend to fit…that? Was he even planning on putting it in? Kyle gulped. 

“Like what you see?” Cartman’s smug expression suggested that he knew exactly what the redhead was thinking. 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, fatass.”

“What a foul mouth. Maybe we should put it to a better use.”

Kyle felt his jaw tighten with excitement, as Cartman pulled his cock out of the underwear. His mouth watered, he knew exactly what the other wanted from him. The size of the thing seemed even bigger, once it was out in the open. It was more wide rather than long, the veins wrapped around it, all the way to the red tip.  

“I’ve never…” He started, but quickly stopped after a second thought. He never considered his lack of experience to be an obstacle, but now the idea made loud alarms in his brain go off. 

“I don’t give a fuck. It’s you, so it’s gonna be amazing.” Cartman stated bluntly. Him speaking so highly of Kyle still sounded so foreign to the redhead’s ears. “Just watch the teeth.”

Kyle lowered his face, giving the cock a testing lick. The way it twitched upon the contact was all the reassurance Kyle needed. He felt more confident, as he pressed his tongue flat against the full length, making his way up. He then took the leaking head into his mouth, covering it with warmth and wetness. Cartman let out a loud moan at that, which made Kyle pull away.

“Be quiet, my parents are sleeping next door.” He said, immediately returning to his previous action.

He swallowed as much as he could and slowly started to bop his head up and down. The taste wasn’t as bad as he expected. It was basically just sweaty skin, a bit salty but not overwhelmingly so. Cartman grabbed a fistful of his hair pushing his head lower. Kyle felt his gag reflex beginning to let itself known, but he didn’t stop the other. He felt dirty and used, something he didn’t know he would enjoy this much. He moved faster, the gurgling noises that filled the room disgusting in a strangely arousing way. 

Cartman was panting hard, mumbling incoherently in between breaths. “Yeah, that’s it baby, keep going.” A gasp. “Just like this.”

The words motivated Kyle, a new found confidence making him slurp and lick more eagerly. His throat felt sore, but he didn’t mind. His neglected stiff cock was pressing painfully against his boxers, begging to be touched. He sneaked a hand down and started to palm himself through the cotton. Cartman, of course, noticed. He pulled Kyle’s head up, his mouth leaving the cock with a loud pop. 

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to come just yet.”

He shifted their positions and now loomed over Kyle, looking down into the other’s hooded eyes. The redhead felt small underneath him, like a prey at the mercy of its predator. The thought made his dick twitch. 

Cartman then proceeded to grab the sides of Kyle’s underwear, sliding it off in a smooth motion. His cock sprung up and Kyle hissed upon feeling the contrast of the cold air from the room against his heated skin. Cartman began to stroke him, the sensation a lot more intense than when he was doing it himself. 

“I’m going to make you scream so loudly you’ll wake your parents up. And when the bitch comes in to check on you, all she will see is her perfect little son getting absolutely railed into the mattress.”

“Don’t… ah… call my mom a bitch, you asshole.” Kyle said in between the moans. He tried to stop himself from thinking about his mother any further, the image of her the last thing he wanted to see while getting a handjob from his childhood enemy.

Could he even call Cartman his enemy by this point? Because last time he checked, the term only applied to people who absolutely despised each other, not had sex in one's childhood bedroom.  

His inner turmoil came to an end, as Cartman sped up his pace. He could feel himself getting closer with each stroke. 

“Fuck, yes, I’m so close, don’t stop!”

And so, obviously, Cartman stopped. A shit-eating grin appeared on his face.

“What a greedy Jew. We can't stop the fun so soon.”

Kyle was ready to voice his complaints, when he felt two hands grabbing a handful of his ass. 

“Say Kyle…” Cartman hummed. “Have you ever tried bondage?”

Kyle did not, but the amount of freaky gay porn he’s consumed over the years made it impossible not to at least imagine it a couple times. He never really understood the hype, though, the whole thing seemed awkward and like it couldn’t feel as good as the pornstars made it out to be. He told Cartman as much. 

“Then I’m about to blow your dumb, ginger mind.”

Cartman got up and guided him towards the bed, gesturing for Kyle to lay down. He went over to the dresser, picking out one of Kyle’s oversized shirts. The redhead looked at him quizzically and quirked an eyebrow. Cartman gestured for him to put his arms above his head and Kyle, in a terrifying turn of events, found himself obeying without a question. The other reached over him and started to tie his wrists onto the bed frame. 

“What are you—?!”

His interrogation was cut short, as Cartman bent over and fished out a bottle of lube out of his sweatpants’ pockets. Kyle stared. 

“You’ve had it on you this whole time?”

“You never know where the night might take you, Kyle.”

He watched as Cartman squeezed out the contents of the bottle onto his fingers and coated them with the gel thoroughly. The label read ‘Strawberry Delight’. Kyle thought that having his ass smell like artificial fruits didn’t sound delightful at all. 

He gasped upon feeling Cartman’s lips mouthing against his chest. He was leaving wet kisses all over and sucked on spots that made Kyle’s breath hitch, leaving hickeys. Kyle was so lost in the sensations, his arms strained behind his head, that he hadn't noticed Cartman’s lubricated finger reach towards his hole. The feeling of pressure against his tight opening made him gulp, a sudden insecurity washing over him. Was his lack of experience going to affect the performance?

“You’re gonna take it all like the whore you are, aren’t you?”

The eroticism in his voice snapped Kyle out of his thoughts, the word ‘whore’ making his insides twist with excitement. He didn’t know he would be into that, but there he was. 

“The safe word is ‘sandy vagina’, say it if it becomes too much.” The sexiness was gone in an instant. 

“Cartman, I am not using ‘sandy vagina’ as a safe word.” Kyle rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Can’t it just be, I don’t know, ‘red’? Simple and not stupid as fuck.”

“Whatever, suit yourself. ‘Red’ it is.”

Kyle wondered if they were going too fast. It couldn't have been more than an hour since Cartman broke into his bedroom through the window and yet here they were: Kyle tied to the bed by a shirt with Cartman about to finger him. They relationship had always been fucked up, but this was almost laughable in its absurdity. His parents and brother were literally asleep behind the wall, they could walk in on them at any second. The risk and the adrenaline it caused made his toes curl. Another point to tick out on his ‘sexual fantasies I didn’t know I had’ list. 

Cartman was already one knuckle deep inside him, the digit moving in a circular motion. The feeling was gradually getting less and less uncomfortable as Kyle’s breathing grew deeper and more rigid. He felt Cartman press another finger into his hole, moving in a steady rhythm, and the feeling of fullness overcame him. A bunch of ‘fuck, you’re so tight’s and ‘I can’t wait to fuck you properly’s sounded the room. When Cartman added a third digit, Kyle felt a new sensation wash over him. Not bad, far from it. The other was repeatedly hitting his prostate now, his fingers thicker and longer than Kyle’s, making it feel a lot more intense when  compared to Kyle’s previous experiences with trying it himself. 

Ah, ah, ah.

The motion punched moans out of him, something he would have normally been ashamed of, but now was too horny to care. Cartman’s harsh rhythm was unforgiving, Kyle felt himself getting closer with each passing second just from the fingers buried deep inside him. 

“Okay, ah, that’s enough.”

Cartman surprisingly complied, pulling the digits out of Kyle. “You sure?” 

“Yes, yes, I'm ready. Just fuck me already!” Kyle’s impatient outburst surprised himself as much as it did Cartman. Was he really that sexually deprived?

“So bratty.”

Kyle choked out a gasp as Cartman spread his legs apart and kneeled between them, bringing his face towards Kyle’s, but not closing the gap in a kiss. Kyle attempted to push forward, but was met with a large hand tightening around his neck, pushing his head back. 

“How does it feel to be the one getting choked, Kahl?” Cartman whispered against the redhead’s lips, brushing them with his own just the slightest bit.  

Kyle could only moan in response. He let out a long whine as his abandoned dick twitched at the pressure applied to his throat. Breathplay? Check.

He desperately wanted to say something, but he couldn't with the restraint on his neck. Cartman watched as the other grew desperate, his hands struggling to get free in order to touch himself. The soft gasps and moans that came out of him became louder every time Cartman applied more strength to the grip. 

Kyle was about to start complaining, the foreplay going on for way too long for his liking, but then he finally felt it. Cartman’s cock pressed against his entrance. 

He began to push in at a maddeningly slow pace. Kyle felt himself getting fuller with every second, the thick length stroking every inch of his insides. Once Cartman bottomed out, Kyle could swear he felt it reach his throat. 

“You good?” Cartman asked, keeping still inside Kyle.

“Yeah, you can move now.”

He started off slow. Kyle could feel every drag of the cock, every twitch of its head against his walls. Cartman began to speed up, his pace becoming faster and the rhythm harsher. Kyle could feel himself drooling, saliva running down the sides of his mouth as he hanged in open, letting out obnoxious moans. It all felt so good. Cartman’s hands on him, the soreness of his arms tied behind his head, the sweatiness of their bodies pressed together. 

Just when Kyle thought it couldn't have possibly gone any better, Cartman hit a spot inside him that made the redhead let out a scream. 

“Oh my God, Eric, right there!”

Cartman now positioned himself to hit the prostate with every thrust, his own movements becoming more rigid as he kept going.

“Fuck, say it again.” He gasped, the sound of his own name falling for Kyle’s lips apparently turning him on. 

“Eric!”

Cartman returned his hands to Kyle’s neck, fingers tight, and started choking the redhead once more. Kyle could have sworn he saw stars at that moment. He was mumbling incoherently as a string of moans and ‘more!’s escaped his throat. 

The pace was unforgiving. Cartman grabbed his tied wrists, leaning over Kyle’s body. The new position made him hit even deeper, Kyle could feel his eyes begin to water. It was all too intense, too fast, too good. 

“Ah, Eric, yes! Don’t stop, oh fuck, I’m gonna come!”

They were both grunting, gasping messes by that point. Cartman’s thrusts grew uncoordinated and Kyle knew the other was as close as him. The breaking point came, when Cartman finally grabbed his cock, giving him fast pumps. 

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re gonna come on my fat cock, you slut?”

That’s what did it for Kyle. The orgasm shook his whole body, legs trembled around Cartman’s back. For a few seconds all he could see was white, his vision was blurry as tears spilled down his cheeks from the intensity of the climax.

Cartman wasn’t far behind him, as he pulled out and gave himself a few quick strokes. Kyle felt the sperm land on his stomach, coating the pale, smooth skin as Cartman came with a soft grunt and Kyle’s name on his lips. Normally he would’ve immediately started screaming about how unhygienic and disgusting it was, but his whole body was too tired to move even an inch. 

Both of them were panting harshly as they looked into each other’s eyes.

“Fuck, I was wrong.” Cartman sighed as he laid down next to Kyle after untying the latter’s hands. He went over to grab a box of tissues, which he handed to the redhead who was now scrubbing the cum off of his stomach. Kyle looked at him, a silent question in his eyes. 

“That was better than any stupid shit I’ve ever imagined.”

Kyle shoved his arm lightly. “You’re a dork.”

They laid together for a little bit, their bodies pressed against each other. It should’ve been uncomfortable, the sweat and left over cum between them, but to Kyle it felt like heaven. He felt himself drifting off, a sudden tiredness overcoming him. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Jew.” Cartman nudged him upon seeing Kyle’s closed eyes. “You gotta get up and take a shower.”

“Mhm… I don’t wanna.” Kyle mumbled and nuzzled against Cartman’s arm.

“Look, I don't want to cut this short either.” The latter sighed in fake irritation, but Kyle could feel that he was smiling. “This is literally the best moment of my life and I would love to stay here forever, but. We are both sticky and smell like shit, you’re gonna hate yourself tomorrow if you don't clean up now.”

“What about you? Are you planning on just going home while I’m gone?” Kyle sat up, a sudden thought striking him:

“Eric, what’s going to happen to us now?”

Cartman pretended to think for a second. “Well, we fucked. And as much as I’d love for it to mean something more, I realize you probably don’t feel the same. So, we’re gonna act like none of this ever happened and go back to the way things have always been. Sounds good?”

No, it didn’t sound good at all. 

Kyle could hear the hurt in Cartman’s voice, no matter how hard the other tried to hide it. Truth be told, he didn’t want everything to go back to ‘normal’. He did have some time to think for the past few days and a stern talking to from his best friend. It all made him realize just how big of the role Eric Cartman played in his life. Christ, he couldn’t even properly ignore him for at least two days, the other barging into his room as if to show him he couldn’t get rid of him so easily. And it resulted in his ass getting pounded into the mattress. His mind was made up. No more running, no more delusions and no more pretending.

He leaned into Catman’s space, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

“What if I don’t like the way things have been?” He muttered against the other’s mouth. “What if I do want it all to change?”

“Then I’d say I must have hit my head and am now in a coma”

“Shut up.” Kyle chuckled. 

“So… does that mean we will no longer beat shit out of each other on a daily basis? ‘Cause I’m gonna miss that.”

“With how annoying your fat ass is? No way.”

Cartman then kissed him again, deep and passionate. 

“Can’t wait to see the look on Stan’s face when I tell him I now own your sweet, Jewish ass. Your boyfriend’s gonna be sooo jealous, fuck his sad, cuckold life.”

Kyle punched him in the face.

The next morning Kyle came down for breakfast in the best mood he’s had since God knows how long. His mother was placing the food on the table and she smiled upon seeing her eldest son approaching. Ike was already sitting in front of his plate, waiting. His father was at work, so it was just the three of them for now.

“Good morning, bubbeh. Slept well?” She asked, voice light.

However, before Kyle could reply, his brother beat him to it.

“Oh, I can assure you he did.” Ike grumbled, giving Kyle a pointed look. “But the same can’t be said for me.”

The meaning behind words didn’t register in Kyle’s brain until the meal was almost over. He whipped his head in Ike’s direction and felt his cheeks burn. How much have the younger heard? 

“Ma, I think I know what I want for my birthday this year.”

“Ike, sweetie, your birthday isn’t until december.” Sheila pointed out politely. “What is it?”

“A pair of noise-cancelling headphones would be nice.”

He looked at Kyle while saying it, his older brother kicking him harshly under the table. He frowned and gave Ike a threatening look, which could only be interpreted as ‘say another word and you’re dead.”

"Oh, that sure sounds interesting, I’ll think about it.”

A loud buzzing of Kyle’s IPhone interrupted the conversation, as he excused himself from the table to read the messages. His mother was very strict about hers ‘no phones at the table’ rule. He unlocked the device, Cartman’s contact name popping up.

when is ur stupid family leaving im bored af and want to see ur lovely jewface

Kyle felt himself get excited at the idea of seeing his friend. Boyfriend. Acquaintance. Whatever, they hadn't gone over the technicalities yet. 

Call me a jewface again and I’m killing you. He typed back.

And IDK, probably in around ten minutes. BTW Ike heard us yesterday.

LMFAOOO FR? 

Yes, it was humiliating.

get over urself this is the best thing ive ever heard im pissing myself rn

Kyle sighed as he left Cartman on read, turning his phone off. He had a long day ahead of himself, but the idea strangely made him smile. Cartman was right about one thing — he really couldn’t wait to see Stan’s reaction when he facetimes him later and tells his friend everything.