Chapter 11- Ticklish:

Butters has five pairs of the same pajamas with different prints on them; Blue planets, green dinosaurs, brown monkeys, orange stars, and my personal favorite- chocolate chip cookies. He wears boxers with cartoon characters on them, like Scooby Doo and the Fairly Odd Parents, and he puts on a fresh pair every day right after his routine morning shower. His favorite breakfast is cold cereal, preferably Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Apple Jacks. He doesn’t mind eating his spaghettios straight out of the can, and he thinks drinking out of the carton is nasty, because “Gee, then backwash gets in it and people have ta drink that, and what would you wanna go and do a thing like that for”? He always likes to have music on, and if for some reason he can’t he just sings to himself to make up for it. His hair smells like honey and he always tears up if someone else is feeling bad. He’s afraid of ghosts, robbers and the occasional Boogey Man, but the glow from a nightlight keeps him up. He brushes his teeth with Colgate Total, and for the life of me, I can’t get him to sleep in his own bed.

After happily agreeing to live with me, I eagerly cut school the next day with Cartman and Stan in tow (Kyle declined, saying that he morally objects to breaking into someone’s home, which we would have done if the Stotches didn’t let us in) and headed over to said residence. Luckily, Linda was the only one home, and without her husbands short fuse to influence her behavior, she invited us in with no hesitation.

“I just miss him so much,” She said, clasping her hands together.

Cartman mumbled something to himself in exasperation and I eyed a framed photo of Butters as a toddler. His ass was showing. I think every mother has a picture of their kid like that. Everyone, of course, except mine because we couldn’t afford film, much less a camera. I never did understand the fascination with baby behinds, and I don’t think I ever will.

“Why does my baby want to leave me?” Mrs. Stotch practically wailed. “Doesn’t he miss us?”

“I’m sure he does,” I answered out of instinct, though I’ve got a hunch it’s also the truth. Most people do miss their parents, even if those parents are assholes. “But he’s ready for some independence.”

“He’s only sixteen!”

“And you treat him like he’s five!” I snapped, losing my patience at how ignorant and selfish she was being.

Linda dissolved into tears behind her hands.

“Goddammit, Kenny, now look at what you did.” Cartman accused. “Now we have to listen to her piss and moan some more, asshole.”

“Hey, fuck you! At least I know how to stand up to bitches, you pussy-whipped, hippie loving, jack ass that doesn’t know how to let go of someone when they obviously think you’re a piece of crap!”

“Aye! I’ll kick your ass!”

Stan grabbed my hand to pull me away. “Come on, dude, lets just go get his stuff.” He led me up the stairs and glanced back at Cartman on the way up. “You help too, Fat Fuck, you lazy ass piece of shit!”

“God damnit, I hate you guys!” Cartman thundered as he followed us up to Butters room. “I’m getting pretty fucking sick of your bitching Stan, you need to stop being such a little pussy or you’re going to get little vaginas all over you again.”

This is how it had been. All my friends were just one heaping pile of hurt and anger and bitchiness. Normal for Cartman, but not for Stan and Kyle. The blue-eyed boy felt too betrayed to talk to the Jew, and the Jew was depressed from the blue-eyed boy ignoring him, and both were suffering major boyfriend withdraws.

In any event, the three of us managed to collect his clothes and haul away his bed in the back of Cartman’s Toyota Tacoma. Sometimes I wish my mom would whore herself out to buy me something that bad ass. Once fat ass started cruising South Park in his new silver truck, half the female population of SP High swooned about him. Stupidly enough, he didn’t give a shit, as usual. He wants one and only one “bitch”. Wendy Testaburger. His mind is set, no matter how many restraining orders she gets against him. (Figuratively speaking, of course.)

We made it back to school that day before last period had even started, but instead of going inside I decided to hang out on campus and wait for Butters. He’d have a conniption fit if he couldn’t find me. He was always worried I was going to die, even though I hadn’t in a good number of years, and even if I did I’d be back the next day. He gave me a twenty minute lecture on the traumatic affects the death of a loved-one has on those left behind, permanent or not. I stopped telling him not to worry after that, and instead simply reassured him I’d be careful.

I had just put out my second cigarette and was about to doze off beneath the comfort of my campus tree when I shot up erect at the sound of the exit doors on the back half of the school flying open and bashing against the side of the building. Between the quake of the opening and the aftershock of the closing, Kyle stormed out dragging a loudly protesting Stan along behind him by the wrist.

“Kyle, what the hell?” He shrieked as his boyfriend slammed him against the wall.

But Kyle’s only answer was an aggressive, powerful kiss that lasted a good lip-locking five seconds and ended with a resounding smack sound. Needless to say, he had the full attention of both myself and the otherwise breathless Stan.

“I’m still pissed off at you.” He reminded, sounding unconvincingly stern.

But Kyle’s fingertips were tracing the bottom hem of Stan’s shirt and sneaking around his jean covered hipbones. “You might be pissed off, but it’s been three weeks and I know you’re craving this as badly as I am.”

“Kyle, stop it!” Stan snapped, though his trouser snake betrayed him, already standing half-way to attention.

Kyle shoved him against the wall a second time, pinning him there with his own body. “Feel that and tell me you don’t want it!” He challenged, nudging his groin against his helpless lover.

He closed his eyes, trying to fight the sensation but managing only to bite into his lip and plea, “Kyle… please…”

“Look at how hard you are,” The dominate one pointed out, leaning his forehead against the others’ and peering down at the front of their bulging pants pressed together. “Fuck, no matter how pissed off you get me, just the sight of you makes me hot as hell.”

“You’re still a fucking dick, you dick!” Stan breathed hatefully.

“You’re the dick, you dick!” Kyle retorted seconds before their lips collided hungrily. His hands slid under Stan’s shirt and gripped around his ribcage.

“I’m not going to forgive you for what you did!” The blue-eyed youth said the moment they broke apart for air, even as he pulled Kyle’s hips closer and ground into him.

“Oh God, Stan-” Kyle hissed against the sensation. Eyelids squeezing closed, he pushed his forehead against Stan’s and let their breathing entwine. “I never did anything.” He promised, pausing to let out a soft moan. “Whenever I was with Wendy, all I did is talk about you.” He pressed his lips against his friends’ again, this time letting his tongue flirt with the tip of Stan’s.

“You taste so good,” Stan complimented, then delved in for another half dozen pecks and one long, sensual kiss.

Kyle pulled back. “Tell me you love me again.”

“God, Kyle, I never stopped.”

“Tell me.”

“I love you,” He kissed him. “I love you,” Another kiss. “I love you…”

This continued onward, the kisses lingering longer each time until it dissolved into one steady make out session complete with full frontal grinding. Kyle wasn’t exaggerating in the least when he accused Stan of being a moaner. I could hear raspy groans of gratification emerging from his throat even with the Jews tongue half way down his throat. And when Kyle’s hands snuck up Stan’s shirt and rolled his thumbs over his nipples, Stan broke into a series of loud moans equally full of praises and curses and Kyle’s name in between each. When he reached orgasm, he shuttered violently through it, taking Kyle along with him for the whined-down just as the last bell rang.

---

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” I told Butters as we entered our apartment that afternoon.

Our apartment. You’d think that the idea of having my own apartment exclusively would be more exciting than sharing it with someone, but that just wasn’t the case with me. I liked sharing with Butters. Somehow, his presence made it feel more like a home.

I led him into the large bedroom with my hands over his eyes. The way he giggled as we walked together gave me a bubbly, excited feeling.

“Ta Da!” I exclaimed, pulling my hands away from his face and placing them on his shoulders.

But he didn’t squeal with joy, whoop and jump, or even shout a cliché exclamation. In fact, his smile fell and his knuckles instantly pounded together.

“Oh,” Came his quiet response. “You- you got my bed.”

I was perplexed, but I didn’t let it deter me. Instead, I happily marched into the room. “Not just your bed, Mr. Snuggles!”

I held his stuffed toy since childhood out to him, which he took with a disinterested frown.

“And your clothes.” I continued, pulling open the closet where they were all hanging in a neat row.

He looked down at his cuddle doll and set it lamely on his bed. “Thanks, Kenny.” He said simply, and exited the room.

I wasn’t quite sure what the big deal was, but I shrugged it off. Besides, I had to get ready for work. He sat on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and his bottom lip protruding in an unmistakable pout, watching Jimmy Neutron on Nickelodeon.

“I’m about to head out to work.” I informed him as I came out of the room pulling a plain white shirt over my head.

No response.

“There’s some leftover pizza when you get hungry for dinner.”

I pulled the drawstrings on my parka and grabbed my keys off the counter.

“Lock the door when I leave.”

He hadn’t looked at me the entire time, so I blocked his view of the T.V by standing in front of it.

“Butters?”

“I heard you.” He snapped.

I rubbed the back of my neck nervously and left without another word.

---

That night when I came home, Butters was already in bed. He locked the door like I had asked him to, which was a relief. We weren’t exactly living in the high security part of South Park and part of me always worried about him when I wasn’t there.

I took a shower before settling into my own bed, but it wasn’t until I woke up the next morning that I found Butters curled against me with his arm flung across my waist, his bed and Mr. Snuggles abandon on the other side of the room. I’m not sure when he crawled in bed with me, but he did it every night for the next month. When I’d ask him about it, he’d either distract me by talking about something else, or ignore me altogether.

I got him one night when he wasn’t expecting it. Instead of climbing into my own bed, I climbed into his bed. His eyes promptly flew open as my weight settled into the mattress.

“Ghosts! Kenny, they’ve got me!” He shrieked when I flung my arm around him.

I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help myself. Any logically thinking person would have thought “robber” before “ghost” would enter their subconscious. But not my Butters.

“Kenny?” He asked, wide eyed and frightened. He was now backed up into the corner where the side and head of his mattress were pushed against the wall.

I wasn’t wearing my parka, and I crawled toward him until the light from the moon fell on my face. “Boo.” I teased gently.

His eyebrows furrowed and his hands, balled into little fists and tucked beneath his chin, shot out and pushed me away.

“That was a rotten thing ta do!” He lectured. “Why would you wanna go an- an scare me like that for?”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you,” I answered around a laugh, to which he only got angrier and tried to scoot past me and off the bed.

To his further chagrin, I pushed him onto his back and leaned over him. “C’mon, dude, I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought I’d join you in bed this time. Lighten up.”

I poked his stomach with my index finger and broke into a wide smile when he responded with a jerk and small grin.

So, Butters was ticklish.

I smiled down at him and bobbed my eyebrows.

“Now, Kenny, you wouldn’t wanna go an do nothing like-”

My fingers began assaulting his sensitive sides and stomach with tickles, gaining an immediate burst of laughter from the blonde below me. I ceased his struggling by straddling his lap and restraining his arms against the mattress above his head. Without any hands available, I lowered my head and blew a raspberry on his stomach. He squealed loudly at the sensation, which only encouraged me to blow more- On his stomach, on his throat, on his neck.

I’m not sure exactly what happened after that. All I can really recall is the intense feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the way the salt of his skin tasted when I licked my lips. The raspberries I blew into his skin got lighter and gentler on his neck. He stopped struggling, we stopped laughing, and I could feel the bulge in his brown monkey pajama pants growing bigger.

That’s when my tongue flicked out onto his skin, but I was no longer playing. I was licking and sucking and kissing his neck. I moved my hands away from holding his down and cradled his hips in them. His snaked around my waist, and I lifted my head to look down at him. My heavy breathing blew on his bangs, and in the next instant my lips crushed down onto his.

Sweet, gentle, subtle.

I dared a chance and let my tongue run the perimeter of his lips and then sink inside. My man parts began throbbing when his tongue answered my probing and began flirting with mine.

I was abuzz with too many emotions to think straight, and soon became entranced in the act. My tongue delved into his mouth, again, and again and again, thrusting in and out, mimicking what my lower half wanted to be doing. His hips lifted off the mattress and ground into me, and that’s when I broke away.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…” I chanted in a whispery shout. “Butters?”

I looked down into his eyes, and then I darted for the bathroom, desperate for release.

---

-BratChild3