Disclaimer: South Park is not mine…

Author's Note: I really wanted to write something new, and I was struck with this idea. I was planning for it to be a humorous story about Stan and Kyle wanting to have sex, but not really knowing how to do it, and it turned into… this story, which is not really what I planned, but I still love it.

I warn you: this have LOTS OF FLUFF! So if you can't stand it go away :P

If you notice the lack of punctuation marks, blame QuickEdit.

Aaaaaaaand, sorry for spelling and grammar, English is not my native language.

Enjoy ;)


They were both naked, surrounded and wrapped with sheets of white and red silk. He kissed his partner's face with passion, paying attention to each and every freckle on the white skin, as if collecting them with his tongue into his mouth. His breathing was heavy, yet he was calm. He decided to do the neck, and his red lips sucked at the collarbone. Arms were running up and down his back, encouraging him to keep going.

Moving to the chest, he licked his way down, giving the nipples the same attention that every freckle received before. The loud moans that his partner emitted were the most wonderful music that had ever reached his ears.

Soon, he would get there…

His mouth guided his way, licking and kissing every place with skin from the chest to the stomach.


When he got to where he wanted from the start, it greeted him with its glory and shine and he licked his lips in anticipation. His partner was breathing heavily, taking a break from the kissing assault.

It was time…

He started a new assault, giving the organ the same attention that the rest of the body was given and even more. His partner's hands played with his hair, pulling as he neared the point of no return. His partner's moans turned into words, and he waited for the three words he longed and loved to hear in moments of ecstasy such as this.

"Wake up, Stanley!"


"You'll be late!"

Stanley Marsh's eyes opened slowly, blinking at the sudden sunlight that penetrated through their eyelids, announcing that morning came and that it was time to stop dreaming and wake up.

His mother, Sharon, stood next to the open door and tapped with her foot impatiently on the carpeted floor, her arms crossed over her chest. Stan knew that she wouldn't move away until she saw him awake and sitting up straight on the bed.

He yawned, sat up, and she left. He was grateful that she wasn't standing any closer, for if she were… it would have been unpleasant, to say the least.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, pulling out the yellowish cobwebs of sleep.

That dream again… he was having it much too often lately, and for some reason, the dream never managed to end properly. Just like in real life…

He went to the bathroom - still dressed in his pajamas , loving the fact that his older sister, Shelly, was away for college. That fact alone made his life brighter each and every day, but every morning after he woke up he felt as if the bathroom was given to him with wrappings of silver and ties of red ribbon. It was his and his only now…

He reminisced about the dream as he brushed his teeth, fully knowing that by noon he'd forget most of it, and in a few days it would disappear completely. He remembered it vividly after he woke up, just like any other morning, in which he woke up after dreaming that kind of dream, and just like any other morning like that, for a minute the white foam of the toothpaste appeared to him as something else.

He felt like crying.

He finished the bathroom ritual quickly, washing his face and fixing his hair. After he dressed he went down to the kitchen, where breakfast was already awaiting him. He ate his toast with butter quickly, shoving it into his mouth and taking the biggest bites that he was able to. He wasn't late; quite the contrary, actually: he had full fifteen minutes left until the school-bus would reach the bus stop closest to his home. The thing is… Kyle was always early. His love was always early.

After he got together with Kyle it became painfully obvious to him that twenty four hours were not enough time, especially when half of it he spent in school. Even though he longed and craved to spend as much time as he could with Kyle, there was always a limit.

So he started waking up earlier, sometimes reaching the bus-stop even before Kyle did, and they would gaze lovingly at each other, their eyes telling tales and making promises about the fifth period they were going to cut and spend in the arms of the other. His mom couldn't be happier about the change of her son's sleeping habits, especially because that in the past it took her almost fifteen minutes to wake him up, and then he barely made it for the bus.

If only she knew…

In a gulp he finished the glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and hurried outside, wrapping a blue scarf around his neck and walking as quickly as he could through the thick layer of white snow. He knew that Kyle loved the scarf he was currently wearing: he said it matched his eyes perfectly. He could not wait until he'd be able to see him. It was Monday morning in February after a very tough exam period. Kyle had spent the past few weeks in his room, studying and recommending Stan to do the same. On Friday, Stan hoped he'd finally be able to meet him, but Kyle said that he's going with his family to visit his cousins in Denver, where he'd be staying for the weekend. In short, for the past three weeks they met with each other briefly, and Stan greatly missed the times they shared together.

He reached the bus-stop, noticing the red haired boy looking downwards, his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his wait from one foot to the other in an attempt to keep warm. Stan smiled widely and ran over, wrapping his arms around his love and not caring who would see them. Kenny and Cartman won't be there until later, and the bus-stop was farther down the block of houses, so they were probably safe from the prying eyes of people. And even if people did see them, they would not care. Kyle's hands ran briefly through Stan's jet black hair, and he gave him a peck on the forehead. "Hey, dude" he said and Stan got chills from the feeling of his warm breath on his skin.

Stan smiled mischievously and nudged Kyle, leaning forward to whisper in his ears. "Let's skip school and go over to my house," he said. "It's been too long." He nibbled at the Jew's ear, and the receiving side giggled.

"I can't," Kyle said, glancing at his watch and prying Stan off of himself as he noticed the time and the fact that Kenny and Cartman should get there soon. "Exams may be over, but only for three months more."

Stan pouted. "You're such a nerd," he said.

"And you're a fag," Kyle replied, and both burst out laughing.

"What's so funny, gaywads?" the high pitched voice of Eric Cartman caused them both to stifle their laughter and glare.

"Nothing, fatass," Stan replied. Sometimes he really doubted the fact that Cartman was clueless about their relationship, as he always greeted them with the various synonymies of the word "homosexual".

Eric Cartman stared, and Stan wondered what was going through his mind at the moment. "So how did your exams go?" the overweight boy asked, deciding to change the subject.

Kyle smiled. "I did good, I hope."

Cartman huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "You always do good, Kyle. It's part of being a Jew- deceiving everyone to believe that what you're doing is right."

Kyle glared and was about to retort when Stan stepped forward. "Shut up, dumbfuck. At least he will be accepted into a top university while you'll be cleaning sidewalks."

"At least I will have a job while you will sit in a corner of a New-York street begging for money and sexual favors!" Cartman shouted back.

"At least people would love to give me sexual favors, unlike you!"

Cartman smirked. "So you admit you're a fag?"

Stan smirked back. "I admit I'm good looking."

That ended it. Cartman simply stared once again, then made a bored look and turned his head to the direction of Kenny's house to see when their fourth friend would arrive.

"Hey, guys," the poor blond said as he reached the bus-stop, panting. He had to run or else he would have missed the bus, which indeed arrived at the spot about ten seconds after Kenny got there.

They went aboard, taking their usual places at the end of the bus. Kyle sat next to Stan, of course, and behind them sat Kenny and Cartman. That was the usual order, unless one of them would be absent, and then everything would be different and they wouldn't even sit next to each other. That was some sort of an unofficial agreement between the group of four friends friends.

"Hey," Kyle whispered in Stan's ears after the bus started going and the noise was so loud that his whispers would go unheard to the rest of the passengers. "I can cut third period."

Stan smiled.

Nine years ago, when he was nine, he used to think that Wendy Testaburger was the love of his life. Only when he grew older he realized that it was not true. If she indeed was, then he would have spent more time with her, would have always thought of her and wanted to be near her, would have felt attracted to her. He would have loved her with his entire heart and soul.

He was merely an innocent child back then, and having a girlfriend seemed to him like winning the lottery. That's why he used to be so nervous and queasy around her. It seemed to him like something special, something sacred.

She broke up with him long ago, and he became depressed. Kyle's and his friend's attempts to bring him up again did not succeed, and only what Butters said back then made him realize his mistake.

So innocent he used to be…

When they reached high school he started noticing his best friend. Best male friend. He wasn't gay, really, it's just that Kyle was so beautiful, innocent, goodhearted and smart that one just couldn't not fall for him.

Alright, maybe he was gay, but girls still seemed interesting to him. Maybe he was bisexual. Maybe he just didn't care.

Before he noticed, that stupid crush that he tried with all his might so suppress into the deepest recesses of his mind turned into a full blown love, and when he was alone in his room at night, in his mind he would love Kyle and Kyle would love him back, and they would feel perfect. But it never lasted as long as he wished it would, and he had to return to reality.

In the middle of eleventh grade they had a school trip to Arizona. He and Kyle shared a room with Kenny and Cartman. During the first night, Kenny escaped the cheap Motel with Cartman and they went to get drunk, leaving a very nervous Stan and a very clueless Kyle alone in the room. They watched the television for hours, repeatedly changing the eight channels that the television had.

"Stan," Kyle said as they watched this game-show or another. "Can I tell you something?"

Stan nodded, his lips shut tight as he hoped for the best, yet expected the worst.

"Please don't hate me for it," Kyle started, his voice small and quiet and his hands playing with a ping-pong ball they've found under the bed. "And I swear I've tried to ignore it and make it go away, but it didn't help." He took a deep and shaky breath, and Stan wondered what there was to be so nervous about. He had his guesses, but they were mostly his imaginations and hopes. "I… I love you, I think." Kyle finished and immediately averted his gaze and shut his eyes, probably awaiting the slap, or laughter, or mocking.

Stan stared, blinked a few times, and wondered whether he should ask his best friend to repeat what he said. But seeing his helpless expression, he decided that his hearing was perfectly good. He smiled.

Girls confessed their love to him before, and he dated them, eventually, but never before had any girl received as much kisses and pecks after their confession as Kyle had. Stan hugged him tightly afterwards, simply breathing in his intoxicating scent and allowing his eyelids to droop. The next morning when he woke up, he was well covered in his bed.

They've been together since.

Kenny is the only one who knows about their relationship, him being the somewhat perverted and very experienced guy he is. Both of them thought it's great that they can console with someone about the problems in their relationship without the other knowing. Of course, there weren't many problems, and things seemed to always go smoothly.

Except for this one, minor thing that bothered Stan ever since their six months anniversary: Stan wanted Kyle, body and soul. Apparently, Kyle didn't. He gave him his soul, of course, but his body was another story. Stan tried countless of times to get him in the mood, to seduce him. He tried to make him see things differently, but it never worked. Kyle always pushed him away, smiled awkwardly and spread his arms, as if saying hug-and-kiss-me-because-I-love-you-and-because-it's-nice-but-don't-do-more.

They used to cut classes now and then, only when Kyle had a free period or when he felt he knew the subject well enough. They would go to the bathroom on the second floor and lock themselves in a stall, leaning on cliché slogans and various phone numbers, the remaining smoke of teenage boy's cigarettes filling their lungs with heat, which then came out in their short breaths as they kissed and learned about each other. That was where Stan tried anything for the first time: he unbuckled Kyle's pants and tried to have his way, but Kyle held his arms and his eyes had s look of fear in them. "This is neither the time nor the place" he said, then smiled and resumed kissing his love.

That's why he never realized why Kyle preferred it when their houses were empty. Sure, it was much more comfortable this way, but they weren't doing anything too… engrossing. Sometimes, he thought that maybe Kyle did want to do it, but something always made him retreat.

One weekend or another, Stan came this close to making him surrender: After a very long evening of fooling around as if they were nine again, Kyle decided to take a bath. The house was empty of parents and bitchy sisters, of course. Stan, being in a very good mood, decided to try and make Kyle his. God was smiling at him, for the bathroom door had been opened a crack. Kyle soaked in the bath, humming a tone of a song that was being played endlessly on the radio, his eyes closed and a smile on his handsome face.

God, how he wanted him…

Stan undressed in his room and walked into the bathroom as quietly as he could. Kyle didn't notice him. Stan smiled widely and in a quick move held his love, who was immensely surprised at the unexpected act. Kyle let him do as he wished for awhile, but when he felt it was too much he pushed him away, and that haunted and fearful look returned to his eyes.

It didn't bother him that he was naked. It didn't bother him that Stan was naked. It didn't bother him that Stan was kissing him, and it didn't bother him he walked in on him. It was all of that added together: it bothered him that Stan knew that he was naked in the tub, and he purposely walked in on him, naked, and tried his moves on him once again.

It depressed Stan greatly. They were both naked and kissing in the tub, he was this close to finally having his way, only to be rejected once again.

Kyle left that night instead of staying for another day. That was his way to "punish" Stan for trying those things, and Stan was left alone and depressed. Every time after he'd been rejected like that, he'd been left wanting Kyle even more than before, and it ached his body and heart. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes in a bad way. He would then sit alone in his room, his mind would once again play for him the things he so craved to do with Kyle, and he would answer the calls of his pleading and maturing body. Sometimes he wondered if Kyle did the same while thinking of him…

This was how it always went, and it annoyed him to no end that even in his dreams late at night it went almost the exact same way.

The place stunk with cigarettes' smoke and urine, but they didn't care. Kyle was sitting on Stan's lap on the toilet, kissing him passionately and hugging him. Stan was doing the same, although wishing for something else. "I love you" Kyle was saying between quick breaths from a time to time, and Stan would feel obligated to do more. But then the bell rung, and they would pull away from each other, breathing heavily and letting their eyes talk instead of their mouths, which were busy smiling goofily and taking in as much oxygen as possible.

"Let's go," Stan said and opened the door, peeking to see if no one entered yet. When he was sure the place was clear, he walked out, followed by Kyle. The drill was that Stan would go to the sink and wash his hands while Kyle would leave, so no one would suspect.

This time, though, Kyle wasn't walking out. He crouched, looking at the floor of each stall and searching for shoes. "What are you doing?" Stan asked as he shook his hands from droplets of water.

"Checking if we're alone…" was the reply.

Stan cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

Kyle came up, smiling fondly and blushing heavily. "I've been thinking about it," he said and put his arm behind his neck in embarrassment. Stan noticed his boyfriend gulping. "And… I have an empty house this Sunday, with the rest of the family going fishing and leaving me behind to study. You want to… come over?"

"Sure," Stan nodded, finding it odd that Kyle was so nervous about a simple invitation.

Kyle chuckled. "And I'll try," he said, and Stan was almost positive he saw him shaking slightly"I promise I'll try to… see things your way."

Was he hearing right? Was Kyle really interested in doing… it?

Kyle stared, somewhat troubled at the lack of response. "Stan?" he urged.

Stan's lips curved into a smile. "I'll be there," he said and was about to wrap Kyle in a tight hug, however, a freshmen decided to ruin this not-so-magical moment by entering the bathroom.

He stood in front of the front door, fidgeting. Every now and then he would lift his arm to ring the doorbell, positive that he made his mind, but when his finger came half an inch away from the round, red button, he retreated it, sighing heavily.

What was wrong with him? This is what he wanted for months, this is what he was finally going to get, and he was scared of it?

He took a deep breath and was about to try again when the door opened and Kyle stood in front of him, smiling a tiny smile. "I saw you from my room's window," he said and stepped aside to let Stan come in.

Stan nodded, not sure why, and stepped inside, enjoying the sudden heat. "So…" he started, looking everywhere but at Kyle.

Kyle smiled and held Stan's hand gently, starting to climb up the stairs. "Come on", he said, his voice unsure. "I have a surprise for you up in my room."

Stan gulped as they neared the door, and when Kyle opened it, finally smiling genuinely, he held his breath in surprise.

Kyle undoubtedly had some tricks up his sleeve.

The room was dimly lit with candles, quiet music was playing in the background and the bed had been made with red sheets. Absentmindedly Stan squeezed Kyle's hand, staring in wonder. "You like it, huh?" Kyle purred in his ear, nibbling at it soon after and leading Stan towards the bed. "I wanted it to be special," he said ad sat down. He smiled from ear to ear, but suddenly the smile disappeared. "Oh, I forgot," he said and opened the drawer, pulling out a tiny package and a small bottle. "Put this on" he said, giving the package to Stan.

"A condom?" Stan asked, dumbfounded.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah. Oh, and I think we should use this, too," he said and showed him the small bottle, which was filled with liquid. "You know, so it would be easier to…" he blushed.

Stan laughed. "Hold it, dude," he said, backing away. "This is too… planned out!"

Kyle seemed hurt suddenly. "Don't you like it?" he asked quietly.

"I like it, I like it!" Stan replied. "It's just that… what about the spur-of-the-moment kind of thing?"

Kyle bowed his head. "Spur of the moment is not special. I want my first time to be special." He said.

"But- but…" Stan found himself at a loss of words. On the one hand, he really liked what Kyle did for him. On the other hand, though, it seemed… too weird. "We can just do it anywhere else, without all this planning and… I think it can be just as that way."

Kyle suddenly looked up, anger and hurt in his eyes. "So that's how you see me?" He asked quietly, and Stan blinked in confusion. "Just as some cheap lay you can do whatever you want with? Someone you can fuck in a place where people shit, is that it!" he rose from the bed, his fits clenched and his face blushed, yet not from embarrassment this time. "This is what you were trying to do all along, isn't it! To get me into bed! I thought there was something special between-" he fell silent, biting his lips. Stan was surprised to find tears sliding down his boyfriend's cheeks a minute later, and he moved forward so he could wipe them away, but Kyle pushed him away angrily. "Just leave, Stan!" he yelled, backing away. "Leave!"

"Kyle, dude, I never-" Stan tried, but was cut off by Kyle.

"Don't dude me!" Kyle yelled back, waving his arms wildly. "I don't want to talk to you! Go away! I hate you!"

Stan was about to try and say something else, but decided against it. He clutched the small package, which was still in his hand, and bowed his head in shame. He turned around and left the room, closing to door softly behind him and leaning on it, feeling… ashamed, lost. Shortly after he heard Kyle sobbing from inside, and he slid down, burying his head between his hands and letting his tears fall freely.

He was such a dick! A stupid jerk!

He cried until he felt that crying any longer would make him sick, and then he got up and left Kyle's house, feeling like a piece of worthless shit.

Every Tuesday, they both had a free period at about ten in the morning, and every Tuesday during their free period they would go to an isolated place to make out. One of them was always waiting next to the big Oak tree in the big yard, and when the other arrived they would leave to this place or another.

Stan waited. He didn't know why, though. He was positive that Kyle won't show up. And he didn't. When he'd been standing there for half an hour he gave up and left to do whatever, his feelings of self-pity, worthlessness and guilt growing. As the door to the main lobby neared he recognized a lone figure sitting on the stairs, doing nothing.

"Hey, Kenny," he said, hoping his feelings were not clear in his voice.

Kenny looked up, smiling. "Hey, Stan. What's up?"

Stan shrugged. "Nothin' much, you?"

Kenny chuckled and leaned backwards on his arms. "Went out for a smoke and didn't feel like coming back inside." He frowned. "How long have you been standing there? You look like shit."

That wasn't only the cold, which made him look like that…

"Kenny, can I talk to you?" Stan asked, sitting down next to his friend.

"Sure," Kenny said, pulling out another cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket. "What's on your mind?"

Stan sighed heavily and rubbed his temples, suddenly in pain. "I had a fight with Kyle," he said.

Kenny blinked. "That's rare. Must have been something big." When he saw that Stan wasn't continuing, he frowned. "So what happened?" he coaxed.

Stan wiped his eyes, and Kenny understood why it took him long to answer. "He thinks I don't truly love him. He thinks all I want is to fuck him…"

"Don't you?" Kenny asked, and to Stan's surprise – when he looked at him – his face was serious and held no laughter.

"What?" he asked quietly, not believing.

"Well," Kenny said and caressed the small bristles on his chin. "From my talks with Kyle, it looked like this really was all that you were trying to do." He said. "I wouldn't be surprised if I were you…"

Stan's tears fell. "It's only because I love him," he said, trying unsuccessfully to stop the wave of tears.

"If you really love him, then you would have waited until he was ready." Stan cried harder, and Kenny felt sorry for him. "If you want to fix things up with him… show him that he means more to you than some whore."

Stan nodded quickly and stood up, patting Kenny's shoulder with one arm and wiping his eyes with the other. "Thank you," he whispered and went back inside, the perfect plan forming in his head.

Step one: let him know.

He tried to write the note as neatly as he could with his messy writing and inserted it into Kyle's locker, walking away quickly before anyone noticed him. He saved the money from his part-time job to buy a new computer, and he reached half the amount needed, but apparently he'd have to use it for something else.

"Give me a chance to explain, or a chance to fix things" the note read. "Please, Kyle, I'm begging you. None of what you said was true. Please, please, allow me to make it up to you. If you agree, meet me at Stark's Pond on Friday at 21:00. Tell your mom you're going over to my place for the weekend. Stan."

Friday seemed so far, but it came quickly, mostly because Stan spent most of the week getting things ready. He was at Stark's Pond thirty minutes before the appointed time, simply watching the icy surface and the snow covered trees.

"You didn't call me here in order to rape me, did you?" a sarcastic voice asked, and Stan turned his head to look at a somewhat mad Kyle.

Stan shook his head. "No, of course not," he said. "I want to show you that you were wrong." Kyle didn't reply. "Come on, let's go."

Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "Go where?"

Stan smiled. "It's a surprise."

Step two: make him feel special.

"Everything's kosher," Stan said as he sat in front of Kyle at the small table at the very homey restaurant that opened in town a few weeks ago. "Serve yourself," he said, smiling.

Kyle looked at the salad, chicken, and rice that were set in front of him quizzically, giving Stan the same look shortly after. "You aren't just trying to make me believe you love me so you could get me into bed, right?"

Stan's smile disappeared and he shook his head, hurt in his eyes. "No." he said.

Kyle stared at him for a few moments more, looking like he believed him, and then started eating, saying nothing more. Stan sighed inwardly and picked at his own food, taking longer than Kyle to actually eat it.

About twenty minutes later they were done with the food, both seeming much more comfortable around each other. "That was really good," Kyle said, smiling slightly.

Stan nodded. "I'm glad." After a short silence, which followed, Stan pulled out a wrapped box from the bag he brought with him and gave it to Kyle. "This is for you," he said.

Kyle took the present hesitantly and opened it, revealing a box. After he was done opening the wings of carton, he smiled widely, his eyes shining. There were about ten books inside, all which Kyle wanted but never got the time to get. "This is all for me?" he asked, the excitement clear in his voice.

Stan nodded lovingly. "Yes," he said.

Kyle shook his head, still smiling. "I can't believe this," he said. "The restaurant, the books… it must have cost you a fortune, where did you get the money?"

"Remember the money I was saving for the new computer?"

Kyle gaped. "I- I'm… I'm speechless. You did all that? For me?" he asked, sounding as if it was hard to speak.

Stan smiled at the suddenly tearful eyes. "I love you, Kyle. With all my heart and soul… I can't believe you thought otherwise."

Kyle wiped his teary eyes, sniffling. "I'm sorry, Stan… but… it's just that you really hurt me, dude."

Stan sighed heavily and held Kyle's hand in his own, not caring about who might see. "It's okay, dude. I understand. I'm sorry, I truly am…"

Kyle nodded, his eyes still hidden behind the palms of his hands. "I'm sorry that I said those things about you," he said. After he calmed down, he fired a question"what am I going to do now? I can't go back like this, mom would question. And I'm sure you don't have an empty house, either…"

"That's another surprise," Stan replied and rose from the chair, signaling a somewhat shocked and smiling Kyle to do the same.

They walked silently down the sidewalk in the newer area of town. It was packed with stores and restaurants, all which were built for the tourists that found the area of South Park an interesting place for skiing and relaxation. Kyle held Stan's hand, smiling as he took in the sights, which seemed so very different today.

"Why did we stop?" Kyle asked as Stan came to a halt in front of the "South Park Hotel".

"I booked us a room," he replied, squeezing Kyle's hand.

"What!" his love exclaimed, his eyes going wide. "But this place is… isn't it a luxurious place?"

"I don't care", Stan replied, dragging Kyle inside after him. "I save no expenses."

The hotel – built about three years ago - was not big, but it was luxurious: with a talented chef in the kitchen, big rooms, and even a Spa. It served the residents of the area well.

Living in South Park had its advantages: no one gave a damn about your age, usually, and so, even ninth graders were getting drunk almost daily. As long as you looked old enough they didn't care, and even if they did, talking them into what you wanted was easy. So even though they weren't grown ups yet, officially at least, no one questioned them when they checked in.

Making Kyle happy was like being on the top of the world to him, and Stan couldn't help but smile when Kyle gasped as he saw the room and clung to him as if his life depended on it.

"This is just like-" Kyle started, but the words stuck in his throat and he couldn't continue. The room had been dimly lit with candles all around, and the television was on, the channel set on a radio-channel with quiet songs. "How much money did you have?" he asked, his voice choked.

"That does'nt matter, dude," Stan said and closed the door. "This is our- no, your night. I'll do whatever you want. Your night of romance."

"And you're not going to try anything, right?" Kyle asked, frowning and making Stan feeling empty inside all of the sudden at the lack of smile.

"If you don't want me to, I won't," he replied.

Kyle smiled and gave his boyfriend a very wet kiss on the cheek. "You're something else, alright," he said quietly.

"I do it all for you," Stan said, hugging Kyle tightly and kissing his forehead. "And don't doubt it ever again."

"I won't," Kyle replied with a shaky voice, kissing Stan all over the face.

Step three: make him feel loved.

Hotels were always a fun place to make out in, while knowing that no one would enter and no one would question why the "Do Not Disturb" sign is is on the doorknob on the next morning. Hotels were quiet, without control freak sisters and pushy mothers.

Stan always felt that they were never going "all out": not in their own homes in fear that someone would come in and surprise them, even when the house was empty, and not in the school's bathroom, for obvious reasons.

They always had a war while kissing, each trying to be the one in control, and the competition always made things much more enjoyable. Their arms were always exploring the other's body, even though they knew every curve and every inch well. When one tried to speak, the other silenced him, taking advantage of the opening.

Stan was somewhat glad they had that fight, actually. It gave him a chance to show how he cared. Kyle always did those nice things for him, like little gifts and special dinners, while all Stan did was… trying to get him in bed.

Kenny was right.

So to make up for it, Stan gave Kyle the privilege to be more active, while he remained quite passive most of the time. Kyle proved to be… experienced. Well, he did learn from the best, after all.

The sheets were crumpled and the blanket was thrown on the floor as the two hugged and kissed, explored and loved. When Stan felt colder suddenly he opened his eyes in time to see Kyle unbuttoning his shirt as he kissed him. "What are you doing?" he managed to ask.

Kyle caressed his chest, sure of himself yet hesitant. "I was just thinking," he said between pants"that since you went through all that trouble and spent all that money, I might as well… return the favor and give you a gift."

Stan smiled and held Kyle close. "You don't have to," he whispered in his ear, spending no time in nibbling at it immediately after.

He felt Kyle shiver in his arms as chills went through his thin body. "No," he replied, and Stan's heart sunk. "I want to," he finished huskily, kissing his neck.

Stan shifted so now he was on top. He may have let Kyle being the active while kissing, but when… doing it, it was another story. "I love you, you know that?" he asked, attacking his skin with kisses. "So much…"

Quiet moans and grips were the only response he got, and he couldn't wish for more.

Step four: SCORE!

The hand through his hair, the thrusts of body, the pants, the sight of pleasured face and the countless declarations of endless love… really, he couldn't wish for more.


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