Title → Mysterion Gives Eric Cartman A Birthday Present
Cartoon → South Park
Pairing → Kenman; Kenny McCormick/Eric Cartman
Rated → M

Summary → Eric Cartman knows what he wants for his birthday. Kenny is nice enough to comply.

Cartman would pinch himself if he could because he really really can't believe this is happening. Trying to pinch anything with his hands tied to the bedframe is kind of impossible though. Still, he can't resist testing the give of the black silk around his wrists again. The slide of the fabric against his skin makes his breath hitch in his throat. They're pretty loose, Kenny had muttered something about circulation as he tied him up but Cartman isn't complaining.

Fuck no, Cartman is not complaining.

He glances around his room, wanting to remember this moment, burn it into his memory for future reference (involving his spank bank). The window is halfway open and the breeze is just this side of cold against his chest. Being stark naked with only a blanket thrown haphazardly across his waist should be more nerve-wracking than it is; what with all his inopportuned friends and their complete disregard for anyone's, much less his, privacy. But at this point not even the fucking Jew poking his head through the window is going to flag down his hard-on. It might scar him permanently but it's not going to take him out of action.

After all, it's his birthday. Birthday sex is imminent, in fact it's happening and his smile must look ridiculous. Like disgustingly-ass giddy.

It hadn't been a serious request, more a spur of the moment thing that doesn't count due to extenuating circumstances. The extenuating circumstances being Cartman's partiality for dirty talk. Which was rampant during the set up of round two, Friday night a couple of weeks ago. He may or may not have said something about nipple play, being tied up and how he'd beg for Mysterion to take him.

Bound, aching and helpless.

That had gotten him folded in half and fucked; fucked until biting down on Kenny's shoulder was the only way he could avoid waking up every living thing within a 2 mile radius of his house. Afterwards, Kenny had littered kisses all along his throat and asked if Cartman really… meant the things he'd been talking about. And Cartman had answered, Uh fuck yes. Which was the only thinkable reply to however many of his kinks Kenny was comfortable with.

Kenny hadn't brought it up again though and dealing with another group of delinquents causing trouble in South Park made the Coon forget about it. Until a costume wearing Kenny (a.k.a Mysterion) stripped the Coon of every scrap of clothing and produced the silk ties five minutes ago, with a soft 'Happy Birthday' against his lips.

"Yes," Cartman can't help but muse out loud, unrepentant about the smugness in his voice which is probably reaching astronomical levels and that Mysterion no doubt can hear from wherever he is downstairs, "Happy Freakin' Birthday to me."

A dim glow across the hall catches his eyes as it travels up the wall along the staircase. Mysterion's boots make soft thuds against the floor only because he wants Cartman to hear him and Cartman can't stop himself squirming in anticipation. They haven't even done anything yet, only some kissing (albeit frantic on Cartman's part) and he's already breaking out into a sweat.

When Mysterion comes into full view in the doorway, Cartman has to blink twice because this is not actually happening. Mysterion is… he's not… he is carrying a plate with a cake on it. An honest to God birthday cake. That looks homemade. With candles.

What?

"Did you make that? Are you seriously? Like, by yourself? With your hands?"

Mysterion's annoyance is immediately plastered all over his eyes and lips, except for the tips of his ears, which are turning a lovely, bright pink.

"Oh my god, you did. You really did. You iced it yourself and everything, how much time did you…"

"Shut up, fat boy."

There's a hidden but not insubstantial amount of embarrassment mixed up with the prickly irritation in Mysterion's deep, throaty voice. Cartman is a master at picking it out by now so he breaks out into a big smile, licking his lips slowly as Mysterion steps into the room.

"Are you going to let me taste it?"

It's barely a whisper but Mysterion's eyes shift immediately to his lips and Cartman has to raise his hips off the bed, has to rub his cock against the blanket for even the slightest bit of friction because hot damn.

Mysterion sits down on the edge of the bed and awkwardly holds the plate up so Cartman can see. The cake looks like it's double double extra chocolate everything, which happens to be just how Cartman likes it. It even has "Happy Birthday Eric" on it in red icing, the writing a bit wonky but nowhere near qualifying for . Cartman kinda loves it. The candles are the number kind, a chunky looking 1 and an 8, with a set of regular ones around the edge. The light casts an amber glow over Mysterion's face, his eyes dark and flitting back and forth between Cartman and the cake. He looks a bit agitated and mostly flustered and while Cartman appreciates the cake, he's ready to get on with the rest of the birthday celebrations. Immediately. Preferably sooner.

"Should I blow them out?"

"Not yet."

Cartman tilts his head, confused and so very horny.

"Okay… why the hell not?"

"Because we're going to use them."

"Oh… oh. Oh, fuck yes, use them, that's a brilliant idea, god, Mysterion…"

Cartman is pulling against the ties now, wanting feverishly to touch Mysterion, any part of the superhero, with his lips and tongue and just push and sink his appreciation into Mysterion's body. Mysterion leans over Cartman and gingerly puts the cake on the bedside table. Making contact for the first time, Mysterion takes off his gloves, places one hand on Cartman's shoulder and pushes him firmly back against the pillows, earning himself a disgruntled huff in the process.

Arching an eyebrow, Mysterion demonstrably pulls a finger through the frosting of the cake, all the way down the side and Cartman's eyes are transfixed as the creamy chocolate gathers and sticks to Mysterion's skin. Straddling Cartman's thighs, Mysterion towers over him as he brings the finger up to Cartman's lips; it's just out of reach but near enough that Cartman can taste chocolate on his breath. Mysterion's eyes are sapphire blue in the light from the candles and Cartman can't look away. His body strives up towards Mysterion, but he's bound, he's tied up and Mysterion's hand is still on his shoulder.

"Make a wish," Mysterion says, voice extra raspy in a way that means he wants to watch Cartman lick the chocolate off just as badly as Cartman wants to do it.

"Not to go all Molly Ringwald here, but it already came true. Big time. So, if you could just…"

Cartman doesn't get to finish the sentence, his mouth suddenly full of surprisingly good chocolate frosting and Jesus fuck, Mysterion's finger. Cartman sucks along the first knuckle, tongue teasing against the sides. Mysterion's breathing is heavy, wet against Cartman's throat and his left hand moves from Cartman's shoulder to his hip in order to stop Cartman from rutting up against him. Which, son of a bitch, he really isn't into giving Cartman a whole lot of options here. Cartman can't resist a shudder.

Pulling his finger out, Mysterion takes another swipe at the cake, this time spreading the icing along Cartman's lips. Before Cartman can lick it off, Mysterion gets there first, tracing his tongue along the smudges and chasing the taste into Cartman's mouth. The kiss is messy, fucking dirty, Mysterion's tongue pushing languidly against Cartman's own, tugging moan after heady moan from Cartman's mouth.

More frosting, this time it ends up smeared against his throat and Cartman arches, presenting his neck eagerly to Mysterion who bends down and sucks along the trail. He takes his time leaving what will probably be spectacular hickeys in the morning but Cartman can't find it in himself to care.

"Fuck, please Mysterion, please, it's so good…"

Another swipe at the cake and Mysterion's hand is moving along his collarbone, tongue following, dipping into every hollow and cranny to seek out the chocolate. When he starts circling Cartman's right nipple, 'round and 'round again, Cartman has to bite down on his lower lip. He's pulling against the ties, panting. The silk is keeping him just out of reach of what he wants, always at the cusp and edge of longing and it's driving him crazy. When Mysterion sucks his nipple into his mouth, he cries out softly, his entire body bow-like and tense.

"Oh God, Mysterion…"

Mysterion worries his nipple with his teeth before changing sides, eyes still gazing straight into Cartman's own, even as Cartman struggles to keep them open. Leaning back, Mysterion blows against his wet skin and smiles as Cartman shudders. Moving slowly and pointedly keeping eye contact, Mysterion plucks the number 8 from the birthday cake. His hand stops just shy of Cartman's chest, eyes searching.

"Fuuuuck, Mysterion, do it, do it, come on…"

He's always loved it, from the get go. Mysterion rolling his nipples between his fingers, pulling, sucking, biting. Loves it when the hint of a claw puts all his senses on edge and there's an electric spike of pain to go with his pleasure. Cartman just knows this is going to be awesome.

"I want it Mysterion, please…"

Mysterion tilts the candle slightly, gaze flicking between Cartman's nipple and his eyes as the hot wax drops, painting Cartman's skin. He hisses at the burn, oh god the heat, the burn, writhing against it. Biting his lower lip, he rides out the sting as it blossoms into pleasure, the wax blooming opaque against his skin. It hits again and again, fanning out at impact, searing most at the edges where the contrast is sharpest. Fuck, Cartman can't keep his hips from canting upwards and Mysterion must know, must smell how much he likes this, loves this.

And yeah, apparently he does because the blanket is somewhere across the room before Cartman can blink and his brain can register the movement. Mysterion's leaning down to pull his teeth along his abs, eyes still on the candle as it continues to drip wax over Cartman's chest. His right hand shifts towards the cake, three fingers digging into the side. He drags his fingers down the length of Cartman's cock, leaving blobs and smears of chocolate in their wake. Cartman arches, tenses all over as Mysterion blows cool air over the head of his cock and then covers it with his mouth, lips catching at the edge.

"Fuck, Mysterion!"

His skin is throbbing underneath the dripping, hardening wax, the double heat of pain and pleasure making him sweat and his chest heave. He can't take his eyes away from the point where he ends and Mysterion begins, lips wrapped tightly around Cartman's cock. It's too much and just not nearly enough at the same time, as Mysterion starts to bob his head up and down, pulling noises from Cartman that should be embarrassing but makes Mysterion hum low in his throat and god, if that isn't fantastic. Mysterion puts the candle out with his fingers, tosses it aside and Cartman would feel a bit sad about it if he wasn't having his sanity wrenched from his mind.

And then, then there are nails and Cartman can't think, can't tear his eyes away. It runs up along his stomach and turns big circles around his pec, smaller and smaller until finally, finally, it's running along the edge of the wax. When it starts to pick at the wax, pulling at the sore skin, Cartman loses all control. Mysterion lets him.

He all but trashes against the silk ties, wanting to bury his fingers in Mysterion's head as he fucks into his mouth. All he can do now is piston his hips up frantically in search of release, but it's still Mysterion that sets the pace, Mysterion that calls the shots. It makes him feel raw and vulnerable and so fucking well cared for that he chokes on the emotion, moan after moan stumbling from his lips as Mysterion sucks his cock and moves with his thrusts. He's so close now, almost there and Mysterion knows because the nails pulls down along his chest, all sharp promises.

"I'm… fucking Christ, I'm coming, please Mysterion, please, I'm…"

Mysterion reaches out for his hand, anchoring Cartman as the point of the nails lends just the right amount pain to his undoing. He whites out, just along the edge of vision as his back arches in a bow and he comes down Mysterion's throat, a sob forced from his own.

His hips stutter, once, twice and then his bones turn to lead. Sinking back against the mattress, he tries to reign in his shallow breathing; eyes gazing half shut as Mysterion snicks the silk ties from his wrists. He uses his new won freedom to pull Mysterion up and in, groaning at the taste of himself and chocolate icing on Mysterion's lips.

"That. was. absolutely. amazing," he pants out between kisses, happy and delirious as Kenny pulls his hands down his sides, a small smile pillowed in Cartman's neck. There are soothing noises that Kenny will never admit to later, helping to bring Cartman down from his high and fingers splaying ever so gently over red skin.

"There's more… if you're up for the encore?"

Cartman looks at him like he's from Mars.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Most definitely. More of that. I just need a minute and then maybe, I mean if it's on the table and if we can still use the ties, cause they are brilliant, like woah, and I really, really would like for you to ride…"

Kenny's eyes roll, apparently questioning his involvement with the rambling moron underneath him. Incredibly, his gaze is soft when it comes back down. Cartman still ends up with a fat piece of cake in his mouth though and it shuts him up. For now.

The End

終わり (Owari)

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