Chapter Text
“–and then, I saw her in the hallway after class with some know-it-all douchebag!”
Stan throws his head back, finishing off his eighth and final beer of the night as Kenny hands him the last of their shared blunt. He discards the empty bottle to the ground and takes a quick drag before continuing his drunken rant about his latest problems involving his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Wendy.
“We’ve been on a break for a week, and she’s already flirting with other guys!”
Kyle is not nearly drunk enough to deal with any of this right now…or sober enough, for that matter.
“Stan, have you ever considered that maybe she was just talking to the dude? Like what if she was asking about homework or student council or something? I seriously think you’re overreacting here.”
“Don’t listen to the Jew, hippie, if anything I’d say you’re underreacting.”
Cartman's voice drifts over the familiar sound of button-mashing, his eyes never leaving the screen as he and Kenny completely immerse themselves in their third round of Smash Bros.
Kyle fidgets impatiently while Cartman continues.
“That bitch probably used homework as an excuse to talk to him. Trust me, one minute you think you’re partners working together on research, then the next thing you know, she’s kissing you during a debate in front of the whole school. You’re screwed, dude.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Kyle bursts from the opposite end of the couch. “That happened once , and it was a total fluke, fatass!”
“So?” Cartman's focus is still on the screen. “It still happened! What makes you think the douchebag isn’t over her house right now, balls deep in–”
“Blahhhg–”
“Ah, sick dude!”
And just like that, their night of fun and camaraderie was over.
Kenny sighs and hits pause on the game. “Nice. Whose turn is it this time?”
Kyle and Cartman exchange knowing glances at their blond-haired friend, which is answer enough.
The three boys have established a mutual understanding over the years regarding Stan’s drinking, and they’ve each come to the agreement that they would take turns watching over him whenever he reaches this sorry state — knee-deep in tears and vomit.
It's certainly not the most efficient or pleasant approach, but Kyle has never been more grateful to be spared from such a responsibility for the night.
Kenny sighs again and moves to grab Stan’s arm, skillfully avoiding the vomit that now decorates the front of his shirt. At least Stan had the decency not to get it everywhere.
“Alright, big guy, let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Stan sniffs loudly as Kenny tries to get him on his feet. “Do you really think Wendy’s with that guy right now, Kenny?”
“Absolutely not, dude," Kenny answers matter-of-factly, even if the effort is wasted on Stan's current condition. He’s always been an insecure and unreasonable drunk.
Cartman is holding back his laughter with both hands, yet his amusement slips off his face the second Kenny walks by and slaps him upside the head.
“Aye!”
Kenny’s back is turned to him but he still somehow manages to flip Cartman off. “Fuck you, Cartman.”
His words are spoken with clear levity, which Cartman dismisses with a quick eye roll. “Pfft, whatever.”
Kenny gives a quick glance over his shoulder. “You staying?”
Kyle knows the question is being directed at him but it’s Cartman who answers instead.
“I think the Jew wants to get his ass handed to him in another round.”
Cartman turns to him with a lopsided smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief. Kyle has never felt more impatient. “You wish fatass!”
Their usual bickering is enough to divert Kenny's attention back to helping Stan up the stairs, and it feels like forever before Kyle hears the basement door shut. As soon as it does, he lunges at Cartman’s side, and Cartman meets him halfway, colliding in a heated kiss.
The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, but Kyle doesn’t care. He sort of prefers it that way, and in all honesty, it suits them — nothing they ever do is not messy.
Kyle breaks away for a second. “God, you’re such an asshole.”
Cartman frowns back in annoyance.
"I got them to leave, didn't I?"
Kyle won't ever admit when Cartman is right, so he says nothing in response.
Cartman goes back in for another kiss and Kyle doesn’t object.
He feels like he’s been deprived of this for way too long, but they’ve only been at it for a couple of weeks. Kyle’s not even entirely sure why he’s still a full participant in this exchange but he does remember how it started.
It was another Friday night, their usual routine of beers and video games after a week of day-to-day mundanity, and like clockwork, Kenny had showed up with his usual stash of weed only this time it was more of an abundance, which Cartman had grilled him about — he was adamant about not wanting his basement hotboxed, so Stan and Kenny took their smoking to the streets leaving Kyle and Cartman behind.
Kyle can’t even remember the name of the game they played, but what he does recall was the competitive nature of the match. He and Cartman ended up getting into it, with Cartman claiming that Kyle had cheated. Of course, Kyle wasn’t going to let him throw around accusations, so it wasn’t long before things got physical — a back-and-forth tussle that started with Kyle swinging and ended with him pinned down below Cartman.
The shift was palpable, and the new position didn’t go over Kyle’s head — Cartman was straddling him. It wasn’t just the awkwardness of the moment either; it was something deeper, a recognition that neither wanted to acknowledge. But Kyle could feel it, a magnetic tension that blurred the lines and muddled his thoughts.
And Cartman? Well, there was no doubt in Kyle's mind that he knew.
Blame it on Kyle's overactive imagination, but Cartman's hazy, half-lidded gaze and flushed face told Kyle everything he needed to know — there was no denying that unmistakable look.
Cartman made the first mistake by kissing him, and against his better judgment, Kyle made the second by kissing him back. They broke out of their kiss when they heard the voices of their friends upstairs, signaling their return.
They quickly dismissed it as a drunken mistake, but the weight of that night lingered in the unspoken glances they shared. Then one day it happened again. And then again two days after that. Then they did it again the following Friday after that, and on Monday after Kyle’s basketball practice — Jesus, Cartman almost gave him a heart attack when he cornered him alone in the locker room.
And now here they are again.
Granted, they haven’t ventured much beyond making out and heavy petting, but Cartman is relentless. He’s all over Kyle like a tick on a dog, and Kyle isn’t much better. He’s come to the haunting realization that he actually looks forward to their little encounters.
Kyle never even expected kissing Cartman to feel so pleasant, and they probably shouldn’t get too carried away right now, Stan and Kenny are still upstairs.
He feels a strong hand grip his thigh, and Cartman’s leaning over peppering his neck with soft kisses. It takes all of Kyle’s willpower to put a stop to it — he absolutely draws the line at hickeys.
“Not there.” Kyle pulls away. “I had to use up all of my mom’s concealer the last time you marked up my neck.”
Cartman huffs in his face but quickly licks a strip up his neck in an act of defiance.
“Then we’ll just have to hide them better.”
Cartman's voice is already gruff, and the room starts to feel heavy with a mix of excitement and tension. He feels Cartman's hand move higher and higher up his leg, inching his way toward his zipper.
Kyle grabs at his hand to stop him from moving any further. “Cartman.” He says his name ominously, and he hopes he's gotten his message across — Kyle doesn’t want their little secret to be, well, not so secret.
It's a fear that's constantly in the back of his mind.
Cartman pulls away entirely.
He starts digging through his pockets, in search of something and Kyle has a mind to ask what before Cartman flashes his phone screen in his face.
It’s a short text from Kenny saying that he’s taking Stan back home and spending the night to keep an eye on him.
Kyle breathes out a sigh of relief and Cartman moves to put his phone aside.
“There, nothing to be paranoid about, you pussy.”
Kyle narrows his eyes. “I’m still calling the shots here, fatass! Don’t forget I get to veto anytime I want!”
It's the one thing Kyle specified after they started sneaking around, that he'd have the final say on everything, no negotiations ever.
Cartman only grins widely and goes back to rubbing his hands up and down Kyle’s thigh in slow, teasing motions. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”
Kyle absolutely despises the certainty in his voice.
Cartman sounds way too sure of himself, like he knows just how hollow Kyle’s threats actually are. And Kyle can’t say for certain that they aren’t, not after all the times he’s had the opportunity to say no but didn’t.
“Come on,” Cartman leans in once more, his voice in a low murmur. “You’re thinking too much.”
And maybe he is, so Kyle stops thinking and goes in for a kiss.
It’s nothing more than a small peck. Short and light, just a meeting of the lips really, but Cartman doesn’t stop there — he goes back in for another and another and another. Each kiss more electrifying than the last.
Hotter and heavier too.
Kyle starts moving in tandem with Cartman’s mouth, and it’s not long before he pries Kyle’s mouth open with his tongue. Kyle can't help but shudder at the intrusion. God, is it fucking addicting. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to this.
He feels like a live wire shot with nerves and anticipation for what’s to come.
It’s an oddly thrilling feeling he's come to associate with Cartman.
Kyle lets out a sound that's between a gasp and a moan — a mix of both really, and quickly bites down on his lip.
Cartman's hand is now rubbing him through his jeans, and the relief is not nearly enough.
“Fuck! Cartman.”
"Wunderhübsch." Cartman hums between quick pecks along his jawline.
Kyle furrows his brows inquisitively. “What?”
“Nothing.” Cartman sing-songs back, in the most grating way possible.
This isn’t the first time he’s spoken in cryptic terms and phrases during these moments, and it infuriates Kyle to no end because he has no idea what he’s saying behind his back. For all he knows, he could be laughing at him.
Well, fuck that.
He yanks Cartman back in for another kiss, occupying his mouth with his own, and this one is a bit different. It’s a lot more desperate than before, more ne–
“So fucking needy–” Cartman finishes his thought for him out loud and feels the outline of his smile on his lips. Kyle really can’t fucking stand how amused he sounds. “–I like it.”
His face is on fire.
“Shut up.” Kyle bites his bottom lip, and Cartman moans so loud, the noise goes straight to Kyle’s dick.
“Mmm, fuck .”
Holy shit.
There’s the taste of blood on his tongue as he locks eyes with Cartman. He looks wrecked, with his dilated pupils and bloody lip. Kyle goes back in and licks the rest of it up — it’s a spontaneous decision that Kyle doesn’t think twice about, he simply reacts and Cartman responds so positively to it, that Kyle swells up with pride.
“Fuck, Kyle.”
Cartman is frantic now.
He goes straight for Kyle's dick which is now only covered by the thin fabric of his underwear that he starts rapidly pulling off.
Cartman's bare hand finally makes contact and Kyle’s whole body shivers at the touch.
“Is this ok?” Cartman asks in a hushed voice. His pace is slow and hesitant but he has a firm grasp on him, which makes up for it.
“Go faster.” Kyle pants.
He does, his hands work faster up and down, up and down, up and down.
A consistent rhythm that drives Kyle crazy. He needs to do something. His hands start itching for something, anything to do. They move towards Cartman's waistband.
“Come here.”
Kyle pulls down Cartman's zipper and reaches into his boxers to grab his dick.
“ Shit . Shit, shit, shit.”
Cartman leans his head on his shoulder and stares at Kyle’s hand stroke him.
“Just like that, fuck.”
The two start jerking each other off steadily, trying to match the other in their pace. It feels intense and hot. Everything about Kyle feels hot. His hands, his face, his lips.
“Almost there.”
Kyle can’t tell if that's a statement or a question. Cartman sounds out of breath, so Kyle takes that as a sign to pump faster. His hand is now slick with precum and Cartman just won't. Stop. Stroking.
“Cartman.”
His name is said as a warning, and the hand stroking him tightens ever so slightly.
“Say my name.”
Kyle rolls his head back, looking up. Cartman takes the opportunity to kiss his neck up and down fervently.
Kyle doesn’t care at this point, he’s more interested in chasing that all-consuming high.
“ F-fuck – Eric.”
Cartman shudders with his own release and bites Kyle’s shoulder. Hard .
Kyle comes harder.
His body goes completely lax as he collapses onto the couch, trying to catch his breath.
He’s not sure how long he lasts in this state of bliss, but when he turns his head to check on Cartman, he finds him completely transfixed by his hand, the hand that was, seconds ago, wrapped around him.
It’s covered in Kyle's cum and Cartman is just looking at it.
Maybe the realization has finally hit him, or maybe he regrets it.
Anxiety starts creeping up on Kyle.
Kyle clears his throat to speak.
“Cartman?”
His name grabs his attention and he meets Kyle’s questioning gaze.
“You got your Jew spunk all over me.”
Unbelievable.
Kyle breaks out into laughter, and it makes no fucking sense to him because the joke isn’t even all that funny. It’s more awkward than anything, yet here he is, gripping his belly and wiping away tears from how hard he’s laughing.
“You’re such a dumbass.” Kyle chuckles softly, the last of his laughter slipping between his words.
Cartman looks on with pure amusement in his eyes.
Kyle is just glad nothing’s changed between them.