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So it was weird as fuck finally dating the dude Kyle’s always had a hate boner for. It was even weirder doing so when the guy he cheated on was in the peripheral of Kyle’s life, as they tried to navigate all this awkwardness. He’d never planned on being the center of a love triangle, is the thing. It was the exact type of shit he’d always tried to avoid.
The fact of the matter was, the week Kyle and Stan broke up and Kyle and Cartman started dating, Cartman got punched in the face.
“That's for making out with my boyfriend!” Stan had shouted, holding his hand dramatically like he’d just broken it, while Cartman yelped loudly and clutched his face.
It was like a scene out of a movie. His life had officially become a romantic melodrama. It made Kyle glad he’d made his decision sooner rather later; drawing all of this out would’ve been hell on earth. How do people in those awful soap operas, that Kenny pretends he isn’t watching when he ditches class to smoke up in his room, stand it?
He supposed Cartman deserved the punch, having been a key player in the cheating, but naturally Cartman acted indignant about the whole thing.
Then Stan had used his other hand to punch Cartman in the shoulder while Cartman was still holding his nose (which was barely even bleeding, come on) and yelled “And that's in case you hurt my best friend!”
Kyle had been stupidly charmed by the gesture. Stan would always be his best friend; a failed attempt at romance and him being a shitty cheater wouldn’t change that. He was pretty lucky, actually.
Cartman, on the other hand, was less than charmed and stood up a little straighter like he wanted to start something. So Kyle had just shaken his head at Cartman’s pissy moans of his perfect face now being marred and pulled on Cartman’s hoodie string to walk him to his next class. He’d thrown Stan an awkward look when he saw his eyes narrow on the placement of Kyle’s hand.
Kyle found he was doing that a lot, actually. He didn't hold Cartman’s hand, but he did more in public with Cartman than what he did with Stan and that had to say something, right? It felt good to tangle his fingers in Cartman’s hoodie or tug on his Terrence and Philip zipper pull. It just also felt weird as fuck that Stan had caught him in the act.
think i need a few weeks dude. U cool with that? was the text Kyle had gotten from Stan that night. He typed back a yeah of course and felt kind like a dick all over again. He’d give Stan the space he needed. It was the least he could do.
When Cartman and Kyle had been officially dating for two weeks, Stan had joined the two of them for lunch and it didn’t end in disaster. In fact, Kyle had been too busy still trying to find his footing with Cartman to concentrate on any lingering love triangle awkwardness. He was still unsure of how things were supposed to go between them, in terms of dating, being a -- couple. It wasn’t like the transition he’d had with Stan. When all was said and done, not too much had changed there. Which had been a large part of the problem, when he looked back on it now.
So, yeah, Kyle still had no idea how things were supposed to go with him and Cartman, or what the deal was with how Cartman was acting. He was subdued in ways that Kyle hadn’t seen him since those awkward months after Kyle and Stan had started dating. Aside from them being alone in Cartman's room, where it was hot and desperate, Kyle climbing into his lap and mouthing his neck while Cartman's hands flew over him, passionate as fuck, Kyle wasn’t really sure he even recognized him.
And then he felt like a dickbag, internally complaining about the guy he picked over Stan. It was like no matter what he had, he couldn’t be satisfied.
_____________________________
“So break up with him,” Kenny says now.
Kyle’s mouth drops open. “No!” he yelps, his heart racing at the words. “What the fuck, no,” he says, quieter this time.
Kenny laughs at Kyle from where he’s hanging off his bed. “Man, you’re so gone.”
“Shut up, I’m not.”
“You so are.”
“Because I don’t wanna break up with my boyfriend for no reason?”
“Because Cartman’s your boyfriend in the first place.”
Kyle snaps his mouth shut. Kenny has a point, there.
It was the third week. Three weeks of being Eric Cartman’s boyfriend. The sex was hot and kissing Cartman was possibly his favorite thing to do in life now, but Cartman was still being super weird in general.
Or well, not weird but -- nice. He was being so nice.
Kyle tries his hardest to explain it to Kenny, who’s already stoned so a lot of good that’ll do anyway.
As expected, Kenny just giggles at him. “So you wanna dump him because he’s being nice to you?”
“I don’t wanna dump him at all, asshole! I’m just telling you it’s weird.”
“Because you’re used to him calling you names and you yelling at him and basically you prefer it that way.”
“Yes! Wait, no. I don’t --”
Kenny giggles again. “Oh, Kyle, you’re one messed up dude. “
Doesn’t he know it.
__________________________
Kyle isn’t one to just stand by and let things be status quo. As mean as it sounds, that was more Stan’s gig. So he lets it go on a week longer, and then completely snaps after a Friday morning of Cartman being perfectly polite as they get breakfast together in the campus cafe and then head off to the library. The library. Cartman hadn’t put up a fight when Kyle said he wanted to study today on a day in which they had no classes whatsoever and could instead be playing video games or sucking each other’s brains out. And instead they were now standing outside the library and Cartman was holding the door open for him.
Well. That was more than enough.
“Who are you and what have you done with Eric Cartman?” Kyle says, whirling around and grabbing Cartman by the collar of his jacket.
“Oy! What’s your damage, Kyle?”
“You! You’re my damage!” Kyle shouts. Some people have stopped to watch them.
“What’d I do?” Cartman asks, voice as earnest as he’s ever heard it. “Fuck it, I’ve been trying--
Cartman cuts himself, biting his lip and Kyle’s frown deepens. “You’ve been trying to what, fat-ass?”
He says the words deliberately, hoping the insult will provoke some time of normalcy. Anything.
He isn’t disappointed.
Cartman’s eyes flash and he steps away from Kyle. “Been trying to act like your boyfriend, you stupid ginger douche! But apparently my efforts are wasted on you!”
Kyle shakes his head, laughing. “Dude, I didn’t start dating you because I want you to be a different person. Just act the way you always have.”
“Fine, you fuckin’ jew, I will!”
“Good, now fucking kiss me!”
“Fine!” Cartman yells again. He stalks up close to Kyle, grabs him by the arms and hauls him in close, people and public spaces be damned.
Kyle kisses back immediately, wrapping his arms around Cartman’s shoulders, fingers clenching. This isn’t his deal. He doesn’t do shit like this in public, but right now all he cares about is the feel of Cartman’s body against his, the way he’s nudging Kyle back against the brick of the building, pinning him there and kissing Kyle so fucking hard and deep it's like he’s trying to crawl his way inside. It’s all Kyle can do to grasp at him, attempt to hold on.
Cartman makes him feel unhinged, in the best of ways. He lights fires in Kyle, always has. Be it the anger from when they were kids or the lust it developed into it. It’s heady and addictive and it makes him feel alive.
“Jesus christ,” Cartman breathes against Kyle’s lips, biting at his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth. “God, I wanna fuck you.” He buries his face in Kyle’s neck, sucking hard. “I have to fuck you, Kyle.”
Kyle stills, blood thrumming through his veins. They haven’t done that yet. Cartman has had his fingers in Kyle’s ass while blowing him until he sees stars. He’s had his tongue up there, rimming him until he’s sobbing and clawing at the sweat-filled sheets of Cartman’s bed. But he hasn’t fucked him yet and Kyle’s not sure why.
Maybe because Cartman knows he gave Stan his ass-cherry. Maybe because it’s kind of this elephant in the room between them, because of Kyle making such a big deal about it in his own head. He’s not sure why he had, anymore. But he also can’t be expected to think about that right now, not with Cartman’s hard dick pressed up against him, in public no less, where Kyle barely wants to hold someone’s damn hand.
Kyle groans, head thrown back, his hands palming down Cartman’s broad back, over his ass. “So why haven't you?” He asks, too honest, before tacking on, “that part of your ‘nice’ routine?”
“Fuck you, I'll show you ‘nice’,” Cartman growls, grinding him harder into the building.
Good Kyle thinks to himself, mentally fistpumping. “What about the library?” Is what he says, breathlessly, purposely goading.
“Screw the bitch-ass library.”
Kyle grins up at the sky, hissing when Cartman’s teeth scrape against the sensitive skin over his Adam’s apple. “Would rather you screw me, in case I haven't made that abundantly clear yet. Take me back to your room, fat-ass.”
Cartman lets out a low grunt. “Don’t gotta tell me twice.” And then he’s stepping back and tugging Kyle along behind him, their fingers intertwined.
Kyle doesn’t pull away.
____________________________________________
Kyle gasps as his back hits the door to Cartman’s room, Cartman’s body following his into it, pressed up against one another. Cartman’s hands are everywhere, which is nothing new. Four weeks into officially dating and Cartman still touches him exactly the way he did that first time they hooked up in his room, months ago. It shouldn’t feel like that’s anything special; it’s not like they’ve been together long. But Kyle knows how it was with him and Stan -- how it settled into comfort and routine ridiculously fast.
It’s nothing like that Cartman. It’s fire and frenzy and Kyle isn’t naive to think it’ll always be like this, but he also knows Cartman makes him feel wanted in ways he never knew possible.
Cartman’s shedding Kyle of his jacket, throwing it haphazardly behind them. His mouth is all over his neck,sucking and biting. Kyle gasps loudly, arching his back, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. His fingers curl in the short strands of hair at Cartman’s nape. “Shit. Fuck, Eric,” Kyle breathes, pressing his dick against Cartman’s thigh and reveling in the broken moan against his neck.
“Nnngh,” Cartman groans, before hoisting Kyle up by the backs of his thighs and grinding their cocks together. “Gonna fuck you so good, baby. Gonna screw you like you’ve never had a dick in you before.”
Kyle stills, and his breathing hitches. He’s not sure if it's because of the unexpected endearment or the heat of Cartman’s erection or… or…
“Maybe I haven’t,” he whispers in Cartman’s ear, biting his earlobe.
Now it’s Cartman’s turn to still. “Uhhh…”
“Maybe I’m a virgin. You into that?”
“Kyle…” Cartman trails off, his voice a mix of arousal and confusion, but Kyle’s not about to back down. This could be -- he wants --
He presses harder into Cartman, grinding himself up and down against his dick, breathing hard against his neck. “Never done this before, but shit, I want your dick so bad.”
“Oh, god.” There’s no more confusion in Cartman’s tone, just naked want. Cartman’s mouth is on his again, hard and relentless, pulling the air from Kyle’s lungs. “You want my big dick, baby? That what you want? Want me to take that cherry?”
Kyle’s dick leaps between them. He’s not sure he’s ever been harder in his life. He should’ve known Cartman, with that filthy mouth of his, would into dirty talking. He’s always talkative during sex but this -- god, this.
“Do it,” Kyle whispers.
Within seconds his back hits the mattress. Kyle doesn’t even remember Cartman walking them from the door to the bed. Cartman climbs on top of him, nudging his thighs apart. “Gonna make this so good,” Cartman says, licking a slow, wet line from the base of his neck to the hinge of his jaw. “Gonna take you apart the way I wanted to months ago. Hell, years ago.”
Kyle moans, louder than he intended. He closes his eyes at the feel of Cartman undoing the buttons of his shirt, his jeans. He lets Cartman undress him, the two of them kissing wetly in between grappling hands. He doesn’t reciprocate much, lets Cartman run the show. He wants to see what this is like. What this would’ve been like if he’d let Cartman get there first. He doesn’t find himself comparing it, the way he thought he would. In fact, Stan couldn’t be farther from Kyle’s mind. He wants this, only this, desperately, irrevocably.
Cartman pulls back once he’s got Kyle naked, stands at the foot of the bed and just looks at him. There was a time when he wouldn’t let Cartman, or anyone really, see him without his hat on. The fact that his red curls are splayed everywhere right now and that’s the least of his nakedness is almost surreal. The fact that he doesn’t feel vulnerable by the way Cartman’s eyes are raking over his body, but empowered, is something he never could’ve imagined.
Cartman’s dick is pressing hard and insistent against his jeans. His face is red and sweaty. His hand trembles almost imperceptibly as he raises it to Cartman’s ankle, tugging so his legs open wider.
“Turn over. Wanna see what I’m getting that no one else has.”
Kyle’s chest tightens and he does as he’s asked, making a show of it, knowing Cartman while groan at the sight of him. He isn’t disappointed, even as he tries to shove down the wave of emotion from Cartman’s words. What he should be feeling is -- unease or maybe slight betrayal, over this roleplay, pretending that Stan wasn’t the one who took his virginity. Maybe Kyle should feel offended on Stan’s behalf, that they were doing this at all. But instead, all Kyle feels is slight guilt over the fact that he isn’t feeling any of these things. That more than anything, he feels stupidly turned on and so fucking hot.
“Yeah,” Cartman whispers, barely audible, one big hand splayed wide on the center of Kyle’s back, trailing downward over his ass. “You’re gonna take it so good.”
Kyle breathes out raggedly into Cartman’s pillow. It smells like the overpowering cologne he wears, something Kyle should hate but he loves instead. “Yes,” is all he can say in return. “Yes, yes.”
He shivers at the press of Cartman’s mouth on his back, open-mouthed kisses down the vertebrae of his spine.
It’s slow, the drag of Cartman’s mouth. Slower than he anticipated. He thought Cartman would make this fast and dirty, unable to get into him quick enough because he wants it so bad. Because they both want it so bad.
Instead, Kyle finds himself panting for long minutes into the sheets as Cartman kisses every inch of skin on his back and then licks between his cheeks without abandon.
“Fuck, oh fuck, Eric.”
Cartman moans around his hole, fucking him even deeper with his tongue, making Kyle press back against him, ride his face.
Cartman squeezes his cheeks, preying them further apart before pushing them back together, lapping at Kyle like he can’t get enough.
His dick is heavy where it presses against the bedsheets. Kyle wants this to go on forever, but he also wants Cartman’s cock inside him. Wants it more than anything. He feels crazed, frantic, body shaking, sweat pooling at the small of his back and behind his eyes.
“What do you want?” Cartman asks when he finally pulls back. He’s breathing hard, the words whispered against Kyle’s skin, making him shudder all the more. “Want my dick in you? Want me to pop your cherry?”
“Yeah,” Kyle whispers back. “Fuck you, do it.”
Cartman laughs. “Such a slut for it.” He sounds delighted instead of taunting. It makes Kyle grin.
“Yeah, that’s right. Fuck me with your big dick, douchebag.”
“What a romantic,” Cartman says, slapping his ass.
Kyle’s smiling so hard his face hurts.
Cartman pulls him onto his side, curling up behind him. Cartman’s a spooner, is the thing. It’s something Kyle never would have expected, going into all this. But he is and the few times he’s fallen asleep in Cartman’s room he’s always woken up to Cartman pressed up against his back, one arm and leg wrapped around him. Kyle found the whole thing half-uncomfortable and half-amazing. Right now, it was all amazing, with Cartman’s mouth on his neck and Cartman’s slicked-up fingers in his ass.
He draws it out again, making Kyle shake and writhe. Kyle’s never been teased this long before. His cock is leaking, his body fraught with tension. Before long he’s cursing Cartman’s name and begging to for his cock. He should feel embarrassed, showing Cartman this much, being this desperate for it. Instead, it just feels inevitable; right.
Cartman doesn’t goad him about it. Doesn’t even act smug. He just presses himself all up against Kyle, like he wants to get as close as possible.
“So fucking hot. Perfect hot, tight little ass, that’s all mine, only for me,” Cartman’s breathing out against his ear now, the back of his hand sliding up and down Kyle’s stomach, down his torso. He grips Kyle’s dick, finally, and Kyle lets out a long, shuddering moan. “Isn’t it?”
“All yours,” Kyle breathes, nudging his ass back against Cartman’s dick. “C’mon and do it already. Take me.”
Cartman does, guides himself in while Kyle’s mouth drops open against the pillow, gasping and shaking.
“Oh fuck me,” Kyle says, more of an exclamation than a command. Cartman takes it as the latter and Kyle, well, he can’t exactly complain. Cartman’s dick presses all the way into him, his balls flush against Kyle’s cheeks. Kyle said he wouldn’t compare, but he can’t help it; Cartman’s bigger than Stan, fatter. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before and he wants it forever.
“Move,” Kyle breathes, reaching behind him and squeezing Cartman’s thick thigh.
“Oh god, yeah,” Cartman whispers, absently. Then he’s doing it, fucking him in long, slow strokes, letting Kyle feel every single inch.
“So tight,” Cartman gasps, kissing his throat, behind his ear. “So fucking tight, you sweet little virgin.”
“Shit,” Kyle grunts, and starts fucking his own fist while pushing back against Cartman. Cartman’s hand covers his own and they start a rhythm, picking up speed and losing finesse as they tumble closer to the edge. Cartman catches his mouth in a kiss that’s fucking filthy, open-mouthed, sloppy, uncoordinated. “Don’t stop, don’t--”
The noises Cartman’s making are driving him crazy. He knocks Kyle’s hand away, starts jerking him off to the pace of his hips, his hand slick with his own sweat and pre-come from Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s never had a fuck this dirty before, this perfect.
His head tips back on Cartman’s shoulder and they kiss again. He comes, moaning into Cartman’s mouth while he sucks on his tongue.
“Fuck, fuck, yes. Kyle,” Cartman’s hand is still on his dick, moving erratically, his hips jerking. He comes inside Kyle with a shout.
They didn’t use a condom. Kyle doesn’t remember until he feels the Cartman’s come dripping down his inner thigh as he pulls halfway back only to fuck back in. He can’t bring himself to care.
“Jesus christ,” Kyle pants, blinking rapidly, willing his eyes to focus. He puts his hand over Cartman’s to stop it from moving, puts his other on Cartman’s thigh, digging his nails in. “Too much, too--”
Cartman pulls out with a long, broken moan and Kyle gasps before faceplanting into the mattress, stretching out his legs. “God. Holy fucking god, Cartman.”
“Mmm,” Cartman murmurs from somewhere behind him. “Not bad for a cherry poppin’, eh, Jew boy?”
Kyle giggles and shakes his head. “Not bad at all.”
Cartman’s moving around behind him and then Kyle feels him flop down and hears the flick of a lighter.
He manages to roll over and stare up at the ceiling, still trying to focus his eyes.
“Thought you quit again,” he says, too fucked out to really care about the smell of cigarette smoke filling his nostrils when there’s no fresh air for it to be filtered. The after we got together for real part remains unspoken.
“Did,” Cartman says, voice thick. “Keep a pack around for ‘post-epic sex’ smokes, and that was probably the most epic sex I’ve ever had, soooo.”
Kyle blushes and doesn’t know what to say, so he just steals a drag from Cartman.
Cartman’s staring at him when he gives it back. He reaches out a hand and touches Kyle’s cheek, sliding one finger down to his chin. “You drive me crazy.”
Kyle’s face heats even further and he looks away before he says the most cliche thing someone could say after ‘epic sex’.
Instead, he says the thing he’s been thinking since the first time he thought Cartman might fuck him. “I dunno why I thought that was something important.”
“Hmm?” Cartman hums around his cigarette.
“Anal sex,” Kyle replies, stretching his arms over his head.
When Cartman doesn’t respond, Kyle looks over. He’s frowning, angrily stubbing out his cigarette on his nightstand. “Gee. Thanks, dickbag.”
Kyle laughs, rolling his eyes. He elbows Cartman in the side. “Fuck off, I didn’t mean --” He turns on his side, dragging one hand up Cartman’s chest and looking past him. “I mean -- the act itself doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t really the first time, you know? It matters that it was you, now. That I -- chose you.”
Kyle’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire and he can’t meet Cartman’s eyes. It’s probably one of the corniest things he’s ever said.
“What a romantic,” Cartman says, repeating his earlier words. When Kyle looks at him, he’s not rolling his eyes or feigning disgust. He looks -- genuinely happy, his words stupidly fond. Which makes sense, when he thinks about it. Grand declarations and random bouts of weird romantic overtures were always Cartman’s bag more than Kyle’s.
“You love this shit,” Kyle mutters, still having trouble meeting his eyes.
Cartman tilts his chin up, forcing Kyle to look at him. “Yeah,” he says seriously. “I do.”
Kyle swallows hard. Okay, so maybe he could get used to Cartman being a little nicer to him.
And maybe he’ll say that super cliche post-epic sex thing… next time.
For now, Kyle pushes Cartman onto his back and straddles his legs, kissing him until his dick hardens and he’s ready to go again.
(Okay maybe he’ll say it the next next time).
[end]