We're Damned After All (Mama)

By Kerin Elisabeth

Disclaimer: Matt Stone and Trey Parker own all of the characters in this story. I do not associate myself with South Park or any affiliations with the show in any way. The plot however is my own; don't steal or don't breathe. Take your pick.

- This story was immediately inspired by "Mama" by My Chemical Romance, off of their new album The Black Parade. Incase you were wondering (which I know you weren't, but I will fill you in on anyway) My Chemical Romance is indeed my heart, soul and reason for living. /end of pointlessness

- Anyway, this is my second StanxKyle! Thank you for all the reviews on my first story, "In The Snow" (which you should go read if you already haven't!). This one is by far more mature and took a lot longer for me to write. I'd really, really appreciate it if you'd both read and review, and I hope you enjoy!


It had occurred to him that Sunday afternoon, sitting in the small wooden space lovingly known by Catholics as the confessional. The priest on one side, the sinner on the other, and the forgiver…well, somewhere. Wherever God was. Stan didn't really know.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

The repeated line. Why did he have to say that every time he found himself in this seat? Obviously, he wanted to be forgiven or he'd be out with his friends doing some stupid shit he'd have to apologize for later. Did he care if he was forgiven, or did his mother care if he was forgiven? He settled on the latter; it was his mother, after all, that forced him to attend weekly mass every Sunday morning.

And obviously he had sinned, or he wouldn't be here. He was a sinner. Well, so was everyone else. Everyone sinned, right? Right. Everyone sinned. But not everyone went to confession. Even confession didn't lift all sin. It was still there, it remained like a scar on your soul.

Everyone sinned. Every sin remained. Everyone went to hell.

Everyone went to hell eventually, and everyone sinned eventually. We're all going to hell. So I might as well sin as much as I damn please, right? I'm going to end up in hell anyway. Right.

This was the conclusion he came to.

Mama, we all go to hell

Upon exiting the confessional, he strode over to the empty pews of the empty church and grabbed dusty, red bible hastily, shoving it under his jacket. Taking a last glimpse at the altar and at the confessional, he smirked and pushed the door open with his shoulder, back out into the snow and the impure.

I'm going to be a sinner.

Cold and feverish hands pried the bible open, his eyes fixated on the stained and ink-ridden pages as he walked. Pages flipped, some in the wind and some by the will of his fingers. Sin, sin, sin. His eyes stopped on one particular page near to the back, and he folded the corner over. Already broke number seven, he thought as he shoved the book back in his pocket as he hopped up his front steps and through the unlocked front door.

For the first time, he looked at the cross on the wall and smirked, one hand moving above the spot in his jacket where the holy book lay.

"How was confession, Stan?" His mother asked sweetly, a dust rag in one hand and a picture frame in the other. Stan looked up, the smirk still on his lips

"We all go to hell." Silence.

"Excuse me?"

"We all go to hell," he repeated, nonchalantly this time. "Anyway, I'm going to Kyle's—"

"Stanley Marsh, what in the world gave you that idea? Have you been watching that Terrance and Phillip trash again?" His mother stopped what she was doing and put down the frame on the table, her arms now folding reprimandingly over her chest.

"You know what, fuck it mom." And he stumbled back out of the door, but not before grabbing his trademark red-and-blue hat that he still had from his childhood off of the rack.


Don't tell your mother that we're going to hell and then storm out of her house.

Raven locks fell in his manic eyes, which he abruptly pushed away after putting on his hat. I'm gonna sin, go to hell, and have fun while I do it. Damn right. His pace quickened while he shoved his hands in his pockets, breath visible in short huffs in front of his face. The cold wore away, through the clothes and through his skin, sending shivers down his back. It was particularly peaceful outside, but the cold stung at his eyes nonetheless.

He eyed the steeple of the church that he could see from a distance. As he approached it, the singing of the masses inside could be heard. A twinge and a spit later, Stan found himself laughing deviously. He liked it.


Don't skip and spit on the church. Especially on Sundays.

Next, Kyle's house came into view and the smirk crept its way back up Stan's lips, a wicked look in his eyes. He knew Kyle's parents were out, and he knew Ike was too young to stay home. Sin, sin, sin.

Popping up the steps the same way he did his own previously, he straightened himself out and knocked quietly but soundly on the door. A tapping foot against the cement was the only sound until he shuffle of a lock moving out of place interrupted the otherwise silent air.

Kyle, in only a pair of faded jeans and tee-shirt, opened the door, a look of sheer confusion painting his face like a mask. He ran a hand quickly through his handsome, wavy red tresses and left it resting on the back of his neck.

"Stan, what are—"

"Shh." Stan silenced him, putting a hand over his friend's mouth. Kyle's eyes widened, half out of uncertainty and half of fear. A voice spoke behind the hand but it was muffled and incomprehensible.

Stan hooked the glass front door with his foot and pulled it shut, smiling all the while. Using his strength, he dominantly pushed Kyle up against his front parlor wall with a thud. He replaced his hands with his lips, pressing a hard kiss to the other boy's lips. He pulled back seconds later, staring at him, looking for an answer. Kyle's tightly shut eyes opened, full of something Stan couldn't understand.

"You stopped." And with that, Kyle forcefully plunged against Stan's lips again for a deep and solid kiss, more fervent than the last. Shocked, but glad, Stan allowed his eyes to close as he cupped Kyle's gentle face in his hands, lips still moving and caressing. As if to close the gap between them, Kyle's arms snaked around his neck and pulled him closer, if at all possible, before nipping his bottom lip playfully.

A growl escaped Stan's throat, lusty and needy. His hands wandered skillfully down the frail body of his best friend, before traveling back up and gripping his wrists tightly, holding them high above his head. Before Stan could put his lips back in place, Kyle stopped him.


Don't cheat on your crazy girlfriend.


Don't cheat on your crazy girlfriend with your best friend.

"What about…Wendy…?" He mouthed through much needed breaths. Stan hesitated, considering this statement for a second.

"Fuck 'er," He whispered against Kyle's cherry lips, sending goosebumps darting in every direction across his porcelain skin. Another hard kiss found itself between the two boys, tongues fighting for dominance and teeth nipping for effect.

Kyle broke away, panting lightly as Stan's lips moved down his jawbone. Eyes screwing shut at the much-needed and awaited contact, Kyle arched against the wall, causing his friend's body to touch upon his own.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle.."


Don't swear while sexually assaulting your best friend.

Kyle's hand hastily tugged on Stan's, leading him towards the stairs. Reluctant to stop for any period of time, Stan joined their lips again forcefully as they stumbled up. Their clumsy climb resulted in a broken picture frame, but neither of the boys cared enough to stop. Upon finding the banister at the top of the flight, Stan lead Kyle against it, desperate and needy.

"Not…here…" Kyle groaned, pushing Stan with twice the force against the opposite door, fumbling for the knob with one hand and tugging on Stan's belt with the other. The door finally swung open and the two inseparable boys found themselves falling over onto Kyle's bed.

Mama, we're all gonna' die

"Off," Stan commanded, pulling on the hem of Kyle's shirt as he helped him lift it over. Kyle nodded towards him and Stan did the same, tossing both articles of clothing swiftly to the floor. As Kyle inched back on his bed, Stan found himself straddling the hips of his best friend, moving his hand slowly and teasingly down his chest. Whines escaped the redheads lips as he bit down on his lip. His back arched and his skin met Stan's, sending quivers through both boys. Kyle's arms wrapped themselves around Stan's neck and brought him even closer as lips again joined and parted in time.

Hips moved, lips crashed and moans slipped as the friends rolled around on the bed without a care in the world. Continuing their war for dominance, Stan growled as he pinned Kyle down successfully, his friend squirming in his grasp. His lips found their way down a trail from his jaw to his neck, from his neck to his collarbone, then collarbone to chest and chest to his stomach. Kyle wriggled ineffectively, panting and feeling light as his best friend pressed their lower halves together.

A strange sensation passed over Stan and he knew it was wrong, but God how he loved it. Using his strength, he used but one hand to pin both of Kyle's hands high above his head, and used the other to leisurely unzip his jeans. Once accomplished, he slipped his hand in the space between them, earning a loud gasp from the boy beneath him. He smirked as a bead of sweat trickled down his nose and touched upon his swollen lips.

"God help me," Kyle whispered hurriedly between strokes.

"I will," Stan grinned, the corners of his mouth curling.


Don't call yourself a God while jerking off your best friend.

Kyle's hands slowly moved to Stan, undoing the rest of his belt and blindly pulling the zipper. Suddenly, Stan stopped his movements, opening his eyes and looking down at his companion.

"What?" He questioned.

"You sure you want…this?" Kyle questioned.

Stan nodded, his smile sly. He tugged Kyle's jeans and boxers down as the body underneath arched his back up. Stepping out of his own jeans and boxers, Kyle and Stan pressed up against each other gently, enjoying the contact even without moving.

"You swear?" Breathlessly, he questioned one last time.

"I swear," he says in reply before pushing into him.

Blinding pain seared through Kyle, but before he could scream Stan's lips were upon his again, passionate as ever. Tears of agony escaped his eyes and trickled back off of his face as Stan moved above him. It hurt more than it pleased, but at the same time something about it made it feel good. Then something in him seemed to explode, and moans such as a ten-dollar whore would make escaped his mouth before he could stop himself.

Stan was pleased, and he let Kyle know by biting softly on his bottom lip while quickening his pace. Skin clashed with skin forcefully and lusty, Kyle's hands entangling themselves in Stan's ash-black hair while Stan concentrated his lips on Kyle's earlobe, whispering and biting.


Don't steal your best friend's virginity.

And before they both knew it, it was all over.

They lie there, breathing heavily in a mess of tangled limbs, both smiling just slightly as they collected themselves mentally and physically. Bliss was upon them, neither boy had ever felt as good. Just when they thought they could lie together forever, the sound of a door slamming open, relatively close may I add, brought them both from their ecstasy.

Hushed swears and curses emitted from both boys as they snatched their clothes and put them back on, hopping about awkwardly as they fitted their jeans. Just in time to shove the dirtied sheets under the bed and shove shirts over heads, Mrs. Broflovski's knuckled rapped at the door.

"Yeah mom?" Kyle said, almost too casually.

"What's going on?" Sheila asked, immediately picking up on the hitch in his tone.

Kyle began, "Stan-"

"Just dropped by to pick up Kyle's sweatshirt. I'm borrowing it for…the game today." Stan finished, some uncertainty in his voice.


Don't lie to your best friend's crazy mom.

An uneasy silence, until "Oh…Alright boys, you two behave yourselves." Steps resounded as they trailed off down the hallway of the second floor.

Kyle raised an eyebrow and Stan shrugged, glancing around the room. His eyes came to rest upon an emerald South Park Cows sweatshirt on the floor, and he picked it up, fitting it over his head. Looking back for his friend's consent, Kyle smiled approvingly. With one last sneaky kiss, Stan stood himself up and sauntered towards the door.

Mama, we're all full of lies

It was upon stepping out through the front door of the Broflovski residence that Stan picked the bible back out of his pocket. Flipping to that marked page, he smirked as he ripped the page out, noticing that he had completed almost every one in a single afternoon.

Slowly striding back out in the air, the scent of sex filled him as he burrowed into the sweatshirt, reminding him of the previous rendezvous. Quite proud of himself, Stan promised himself once again that if he was going to hell, he was going to make it fun.