Chapter Text
Kyle wasn’t exactly thrilled about being back home. His luck soured when, 20 miles to his destination, he hit a fucking pothole dead on and blew one of his front tires. Years of not having to be subjected to South Park’s dogshit infrastructure had apparently left him out of practice for weaving through tattered roads. He considered calling a tow truck, but, per his phone, there was an auto shop a mere two miles away. So, Kyle soldiered onward, his car crawling toward salvation.
He should’ve called the fucking tow truck.
Kyle pulled into the driveway of the shop. The garage door was lowered halfway, but he could see a pair legs in front of a car, so clearly, somebody was home. He gathered his keys and phone, and got ready to step out of the door at the same time the mechanic sensed his presence.
And so there he was, halfway out of his car when the rattling of a garage door brought his attention to…him.
Fat, sweaty, oil stained Eric Cartman. The pair froze, recognizing each other at the same time. Kyle did the first thing he thought of, which was to step right back in his car. He hadn’t seen Cartman since high school graduation…seven years ago. Even with Kyle’s occasional excursions back home, he’d successfully avoided the asshole. Now, though, he was caught, and fumbling to put his keys in the ignition ensured his entrapment.
Cartman’s chubby face materialized at his window, which he tapped at sharply. The sound made Kyle flinch, and he dropped his keys altogether.
He inhaled deeply, and rolled down his window before Cartman could knock again.
“What do you want?”
“I believe you came to me,” Cartman pointed out, leaning into Kyle’s car slightly. The smell of cigarette ash wafted over him. Figures that he’d pick up such a filthy habit.
Kyle’s eyes pinched closed. He wished he had his hat. He hadn’t covered his hair for some time now, but the way Cartman was ogling him made old insecurities bubble up.
“I made a mistake.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Your tire’s fucked.”
“I meant-“ he forced himself to look at Cartman head on, “I want to go somewhere else.”
“Come on, Kahl, don’t be like that-“
“Where’s the next auto shop?”
Cartman’s expression softened. He looked pouty. Kyle gripped the steering wheel, despising the twinge of pity in his chest. He steeled himself.
“On the other side of town,” Cartman conceded, his voice gravelly. “I’ll call a truck if you want.”
“Thank you.”
“Or,” Cartman said, making Kyle roll his eyes, “You stick around, and we catch up.”
He drummed the window ledge a few times while Kyle considered the offer. “Your choice. I’ll even throw in an oil change.”
He could use an oil change. He could also put it off for a little longer. This was also Eric Cartman, and he shouldn’t even be considering it, and in fact he shouldn’t even be here at all.
“Why?”
Cartman’s lips upturned, showing off his apple cheeks. When he spoke, his brow twitched, making the friendly grin look just a little bit mean.
“‘Cause I missed ya.”
It didn’t matter if Cartman was being sincere, Kyle’s body reacted just the same. Heat rose to his face, his stomach flipped, and his mouth twisted into a scowl instinctively.
“Fine.” Kyle felt eyes on him while he fished for his car keys and turned the ignition. Cartman was still leaning on his window. He turned to face him again. “Get out of the way.”
“Right,” Cartman said, drumming the window again before he backed up.
Kyle pulled into the empty half of the garage and got out, opting to lean against a cluttered table so he could still be within Cartman’s earshot. The mechanic wheeled a carjack over and Kyle got a good look at him.
He and Cartman were around the same height, but the latter was twice as wide. Fatass was as fat as ever, and even more of a slob than Kyle recalled. He wore a blue button down shirt that seemed too small to close around his gut and hide grayish undershirt that was presumably white at some point. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his hairy forearms and ashy elbows. Kyle’s nose crinkled.
“So,” Cartman said, plopping himself the floor to start jacking the car up just until the tire was off the ground, “whatcha been up to?”
“I graduated from law school,” he said, which Cartman acknowledged with a hum, “Berkeley.”
“Hand me that lug wrench.”
Kyle glanced at where Cartman gestured, spotting the black cross shaped tool from the pile of miscellaneous bullshit that littered the table. He did as he was told, irate that Cartman’s hands had managed to get even filthier from coming in contact with the ground. He’d look so much better if he were clean. Not that he looked good now. Cartman and attractive were mutually exclusive terms.
“Berkeley, huh,” Cartman continued, breaking Kyle’s train of thought, “Makes sense. You were always smart.”
Cartman unscrewed another lug with terrifying ease. Kyle had changed his own tires before and had struggled with them for longer than he’d care to admit. But Cartman had a white knuckle grip on his chubby hands. They probably had calluses.
“Thank you,” Kyle replied flatly.
Cartman sneered at him a little, and Kyle noted the way sweat made his hair cling to his forehead. And that he needed a trim.
“I’m serious, Kahl,” he replied, but switched to a joking tone when he added, “You’re more than just a pretty face.”
No wonder Cartman was so sweaty. It was hot in here.
“What about you?” He asked, “D’you, uh, are you like the manager or something?”
Cartman’s brow twitched. “I’m the owner.”
“Oh!” Kyle said, growing even more flustered. “I didn’t mean it like- I mean not that you couldn’t, ah…”
Eric wiped the sweat off his face with the hem of his t-shirt. Kyle’s sentence trailed to a stop, taking in the sight of Cartman’s hairy belly. It, too, was sheened with sweat. Looked soft. Kyle ignored the stirring his stomach. Cartman wasn’t even his type. Kyle dated guys who were fit and clean and hairless and-
“I get it,” Cartman rumbled. Had he said that out loud? “It’s fine. Tell me about Berkeley.”
So he did. Kyle told him about law school, and California, and what it was like there. And when Cartman said off handedly that it sounded unbearable, Kyle found himself agreeing. He thought about the string of boyfriends he’d had, including his current one. He told Cartman that everyone in California was boring and pretentious.
Cartman got up to grab a fresh tire, which he hooked under his arm instead of rolling it over. Kyle knew car tires weren’t heavy by any means (and that picking it up was just making Cartman even more dirty) but the way his thick forearm held the wheel to his shoulder…fuck.
His new tire was set in place, and Kyle asked Cartman what he’d been up to. He jacked Kyle’s car up higher, and said not much. He’d started working at the shop fresh out of high school, and ended up buying the place from the previous owner a couple years ago.
Cartman was getting ready to change his oil. Kyle shifted away from the other man while he rifled through the table to gather tools. He summarized news in South Park- births, deaths, weddings, who had moved out, and who had moved back. Without being told, Kyle handed him a container he’d correctly guessed was an oil pan. He was almost glad he hadn’t called the tow truck.
“It uh, it must be nice,” he said off handedly, “Being the boss.”
“It’s a pain in the ass,” Cartman sniffed, “But I get to charge whatever I want.”
Cartman sat down on his mechanic creeper and nudged his bundle of supplies under Kyle’s car.
Kyle snorted. “What, is it extra when people annoy you?”
“Sure is,” Cartman hummed, obviously pleased with himself, “and I give discounts when I think they’re hot.”
Kyle’s laugh caught in his throat, remembering this oil change was on the house. He didn’t like how Cartman was looking at him. He liked it even less when Cartman emphasized his point with a wink.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking,” Cartman shrugged, laying back on his mechanic creeper, “Bebe showed me her tits and I changed her brake pads for free.”
The upper half of Cartman’s torso disappeared beneath the car. One foot was planted on the ground, bending his leg at the knee. His other massive thigh swayed to the side, and a sliver of tummy peaked out from his shirt. And at the center of it all, Cartman’s workpants bunched around his crotch. Kyle swallowed, and furrowed his brow.
“You’re a pig.”
“Get the stick outta your ass, Kahl,” he shot back from under the car, “Show me yours and the tire change is free, too.”
Kyle folded his arms over his chest, as if to emphasize that he would be keeping his shirt on.
“Go fuck yourself,” he spat, “I’ll just pay for it.”
“Suit yourself,” Cartman dismissed, coming back out from under the car and lowering the jack.
Kyle kept a sour expression, folding he arms even tighter. Cartman popped the hood and grabbed bottles of oil. He cracked open a cap, and balanced the bottle so that it poured without him having to hold it.
Despite how repulsive Cartman was, Kyle kept his eyes on him. His ruddy face was smudged with dirt, sweat stains formed under his man boobs, his massive forearms propped him up as he waited for the bottle to empty. When it did, Cartman tossed it in the general direction of a trashcan and started with the next. Cartman’s eyes flicked over to him. Kyle looked away.
“You seein’ anybody?” Cartman asked, absently scratching his balls.
“No,” Kyle said, then he turned pink, “Yes! Oh my god, yes. Yeah.”
Cartman’s face broke out into a small, smug little grin.
“Must not be all that if you forgot about him.”
Kyle’s face burned.
“What’s his name?” Cartman pressed, “Bet it’s something stupid. Is it Kale? Kale and Kahl?”
Kyle bit his lip, unsure that he could get more…whatever he was feeling right now.
“It’s-“ he sighed, “Leaf.”
Cartman’s face told him he should’ve lied. His laugh came out as a cough, than the same obnoxious braying that haunted Kyle’s memories.
“Knock it off, fatass,” he said, feeling like a kid in the worst way, “he’s a nice guy- fuck, I have to call him.” He pulled out his phone and Cartman made his way over. Kyle turned away, and at the third ring his phone was snatched from him. “Hey!”
“Don’t call him-“
“I said I would when I got in-“
“After we’re done,” Cartman said, setting Kyle’s phone on the table. He tried to reach for it, but Cartman caught his wrist. “Don’t be rude.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, but didn’t pull his hand away. “Fine. What do I owe you?”
Eric’s eyes were dark. “Ten minutes.”
Kyle stiffened, and felt a firm hand snake around the small of his back. “What’re you-“
“Ten minutes with that pretty mouth of yours,” Eric said while Kyle pressed against his chest to keep a distance.
“I told you I’d pay for it-“
“And I told you I set my own prices.”
Kyle’s mouth fell open, caught between his principles and his desires. The massive thigh forcing his legs apart wasn’t helping things. Cartman’s belly was soft, and it was pressing into the top of his groin.
His phone vibrated on the table next to them. He already knew who it was.
“Cartman,” Kyle said through gritted teeth, “I have a boyfriend.”
The sharp smell of sweat filled his nose and dulled his thoughts. Cigarette ash and motor oil chased after it. It was a filthy, masculine scent, and it made him high.
“Don’t act like you don’t want it,” Eric murmured, “you’ve been checking me out this whole time.”
“I’m not a cheater,” He breathed. He wanted to mean it. He wanted to care.
“You’re not cheating,” Cartman soothed, breaking into a little grin, “You’re just paying me.”
Kyle’s phone went to voicemail. Kissing Cartman tasted like licking an ash tray, and he was happy to do it. But Cartman wasn’t looking for a make out session and neither was he. Kyle sank to his knees, knowing full well the dirt would stain his pants.
“Set a timer,” Kyle commanded. Cartman leaned against the table, and held Kyle’s phone to his face to unlock it. He freed Cartman’s cock from his boxers, and absently toyed with his heavy balls. “Show me.”
Cartman sucked his teeth. He’d set the timer for fifteen. “That’s what I thought,” Kyle scolded, dragging the five to a zero, “don’t get get greedy, asshole.”
Cartman’s flaccid cock was thick, but Kyle wasted no time taking the whole thing into his mouth. Kyle bobbed his head, reveling in the feeling of Cartman getting hard on his tongue. Usually, Kyle made his partners bathe before sex, but he when he reached Cartman’s hilt he inhaled. Cartman’s smell was concentrated in his crotch- he chased that same punchy, salty smell buried in a bed of unkept pubic hair.
He pulled away, working the cock with his hand. Cartman’s balls hung low, and Kyle gently sucked one into his mouth. That got a sigh from the other man, and Kyle wondered what it’d take to make him moan. He moved up, licking and sucking underneath the hilt of his cock. His nose and cheek pressed against Cartman’s stomach, and Kyle loved that it got in his way when he went back to deepthroating.
Cartman was a grower, and by the time he was fully erect Kyle couldn’t get him all the down anymore. He swirled his tongue around the spongey head, gently coaxing the foreskin further down it. He kept a steady rhythm as he stroked Eric’s shaft. Not that Kyle had sucked a lot of dick, but he had enough experience to have a system.
He’d never gotten a complaint about his head game, that’s for sure. Cartman, though, seemed to be getting impatient. Kyle twisted his hands as he stroked toward the head and was met with a sharp slap on his cheek.
“No hands,” Cartman growled, “Do it right.”
That same rough hand held his neck, trying to guide him to take in more. Kyle gagged and pulled back. “I-I can’t.”
Cartman huffed a laugh. “That’s ‘cause you’re afraid of makin a mess.” The hand on Kyle’s nape tangled itself in his hair, yanking it back. Cartman leaned forward a little. Before Kyle realized what he was doing, a glob of spit coated his mouth. Cartman sneered as Kyle gagged in disgust, “I want you to choke on it.”
Kyle brought Cartman’s cock as far as he could without choking and tried to relax. He braced himself against Cartman’s thighs, gripping padded muscles through his workpants. Cartman ran his hand through Kyle’s hair, perhaps in an attempt to be comforting. He eased forward, and when he gagged, Cartman held him so he couldn’t pull away again. The process continued, with Kyle gagging harder as his airway was obstructed more and more. His eyes welled with tears and the noises he was making sounded awful, but Cartman was obviously enjoying himself.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he panted, “That’s perfect.”
Drool blubbered out of Kyle’s mouth, dribbling around his lips and chin. He did it though; he’d enveloped Cartman’s entire erect cock. The second his swollen lips reached the base, Cartman pulled him off so he could breathe.
Kyle was grateful to come up for air, looking up at Cartman with glazed over eyes. He wanted to dry his face from his spit and tears, but Eric told him he looked fucking hot, which removed the impulse from his mind immediately.
“How much left?”
“Five.”
Kyle nodded and went back for more. Cartman was doing most of the work, fucking into his mouth at varying depths, trying to get a little deeper everytime. He knew his face was a disaster of spit and tears and he started wretch more when he tasted bitter precum, but at this point he was determined to get Cartman off before the timer.
Kyle thought the timer was going off at first, but then Cartman picked up the phone.
“Kyle’s phone, this is Eric speaking.”
Kyle dug his fingers into Cartman’s thighs, but he didn’t let up for a second. He blinked away his tears, glaring up at him.
“Boyfriend, huh?” Cartman sneered, locking Kyle’s head in place at the base of his cock. Kyle’s body was shaking, trying to stay quiet while Cartman listened to Leaf. “Well, I’m sure he’d love to talk, but I’m balls deep in his throat at the moment,” he bucked even deeper, making Kyle wretch loudly, “So I guess he’ll call ya back later.”
With that, he tossed the phone on the table and wiped his nose. “Fuckin loser.”
Well, that was that. A nearly two year relationship down that drain after less than two hours in Eric Cartman’s presence. And maybe it was the way Cartman’s hands held the side of his head, or the way his cock plugged his throat, or just the feeling of being a cheap whore, but Kyle thought it was fucking worth it.
Cartman was fucking his face with abandon, with Kyle acting as little more then a breathing fleshlight.
“Fuck,” he groaned, babbling on, “I’m gonna cum. Does that faggot cum down your throat? Huh? I bet not. I bet you spit into a fucking napkin like the goddamn prissy bitch you are. You’re not doing that shit with me- gah, fuck!”
On cue, Cartman shuddered and ropes of horrible bitterness filled Kyle’s mouth. He tried to get away, but Cartman held him still and pinched his nose closed so he couldn’t breathe. “Eat it.”
Kyle managed. He swallowed Eric’s cum, all of it, the nastiest substance he’d ever tasted. When Cartman finally let him go, Kyle fell back, subjected to yet another choking fit. He got up as soon as he was able, and Cartman (ever the gentleman) put his dick away and helped him to his feet. Their lips pressed together, and Eric had just ran his tongue across Kyle’s lip when a ringer went off.
Kyle pushed Eric off him.
“That’s time,” he said, having successfully paid his dues.
Cartman flashed a small smile. “I really did miss you.”
Kyle wiped his face with his shirt, well passed the point of giving a shit about looking disheveled. “Anyway,” he said unceremoniously, “I’ll see you around. Maybe.”
Cartman’s brow twitched, and Kyle thought nothing of it until he was halfway back into his car when a wrench slammed against the hood.
“What the fuck, Cartman!” Kyle yelled.
Cartman put his hands on his hips.
“Wow Kahl,” he said, “That’s a real nasty dent.”
Kyle contemplated homicide while Cartman finished with his little gamble.
“I could uh, fix it for you,” he continued, “If you swing by tomorrow.”
Kyle desperately wanted to tell him to fuck off. Who the hell was he kidding? He’d be back tomorrow. He let out a little sigh. He’d call Leaf tonight and break it off with him via phone call like a real man. That way it really wouldn’t be cheating.
“Ya know something, Cartman? I missed you, too.”