-1Author's note: I do not own South Park and or and characters or plot lines associated with the series. This story contains Yoai a.k.a. homosexual relationships between men including sexual intercourse. If this is not your bit please don't read. Thanks and enjoy. ______________________________________________________________________________
Stan and Kyle ran around the indoor track at Colorado State University's Rec Center. The gym was hot and humid with the same cloud of perspiration a school dance has from the mass of students clustered together on the machines below.
"Wow, two miles, Stan." Kyle said, slapping Stan's ass, as they rounded a corner on the track. "Only three more to go.
"Three MORE!" Stan gasped as he struggled to keep up with Kyle.
"Well, yeah. I AM a starting running back, dude." Kyle explained, once again mentioning his spot as a starter on the CSU football team. "And you'll be shagging the fastest one on the field."
"But do we really have to run five miles every other day? I mean, I'm in rugby and I don't train this much." Stan asked, suppressing the whine in his voice.
Kyle chuckled, "Well that's because I'm in football and not a artsy little pussy who plays Rugby dude."
The comment was like two punches to Stan's gut and he stopped in his tracks. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Kyle huffed in frustration at being made to stop running, "I just think that if you had walked on to the team like I did, you wouldn't be so wrapped up in your art and you wouldn't have to play rugby to make yourself feel better for not making the foot ball team."
"You're the one who's always telling me to submit my art places because it's so good." Stan retorted.
"Yeah, so that we can get some money for rent. I mean, you lost your job and I can't work because of the team so someone has to pay the bills. My parents aren't piggy banks ya know." Kyle replied.
"You know what, Fuck you!" Stan yelled before decking Kyle in the face. "They teach that to pussies in rugby you asshole!" Kyle knelt down clutching his jaw in pain as Stan ran down the stairs, out the sliding glass doors and out into the cool fall night air.
Stan stopped running once he had crossed over onto main campus and started walking toward the art building. The sculpture outside the eclectic building always inspired Stan to do his best work. Stan reached the building fairly quickly and collapsed on the grass outside.
Looking up at the stars, other then painting, was one of Stan's favorite past times. He knew most of the constellations and as he laid there he brought his hand up to draw the lines between the stars. He was almost finished with Scorpio when a dark figure blocked his view.
"What are you doing?" The figure asked as it looked down at Stan.
Holding back his scream of surprise, "Uhh, looking at the stars." Stan stammered as he sat up.
"Hm. Do you mind if I join you?" the unknown boy asked.
"No, I guess not. Unless of course you're here to berate my lack of talent or ability to make money." Stan conceded sarcastically.
The unknown boy scoffed as he laid down next to Stan on the grass. "Now, why would I do that? You're painting Lover, of that man's back in acrylic was breath taking. I only wish I could express my pain like that."
Stan suddenly recognized the voice and looked over to see the familiar cherry red and black hair and porcelain pale skin of the "red goth" he had gone to school with since kindergarten. "Drake."
"Nice to see you Stan, or would you prefer I call you Raven again." Drake greeted with his trademark smirk as he looked back up into Stan's wide eyes.
"How long has it been?" Stan asked still in shock over seeing his long ago friend.
"Two years, five months and a smattering of pointless days." Drake said without much thought as he looked intently into the skies.
"Yeah," Stan remembered as he laid back down. "I guess that time just before graduation was the last." Stan smiled softly thinking about it. Stan had been given the chance to give the speech at graduation and on his way there had spilt water all over the front of his white graduation robe; soaking his pants.
As he was walking around frantically, under the bleachers trying to dry himself out, he had bumped into Drake, who offered to switch him pants. They had stripped quickly, but Stan still remembered the way Drake slipped out of his black trousers, revealing his lack of underwear, and handed the pants to Stan without even blushing. Stan's eyes had feasted on the built lithe body for a only a mere few seconds but he remembered the pain of giving a graduation speech with an erection very well. "Thank god for graduation robes." Stan muttered, not aware he had said it aloud.
"Tell me about it. The year before when I walked, I had over slept and just drove over with my pajama's on under my robe." Drake reminisced as he pulled his newly lit cigarette from his lips and exhaled the smoke.
"What were you wearing as pajamas?" Stan chuckled.
Drake turned his head and looked at Stan, "How much do you want to know?"
Stan turned over on his side, "Well, I mean, I don't really care. It would just be humorous if you were completely naked or something like that."
Drake smirked and turned his head to look back up at the sky, "What makes you so sure I wasn't?" Stan blushed slightly, "Don't worry Stan, when it comes to my sleeping garments, it changes day to day; only conformists sleep in the same neo-Nazi industrialized piece of clothing every night."
Stan laughed and rolled back over onto his back, "You still on that kick?"
Drake smiled, "No, not really. I went to New York City after I graduated from High School. I thought it would show me everything that I had believed in growing up was real. And you know what, I was right. Life was meaningless, because I made it that way. I tried to think about all the times I had hung out with the other goth kids and they were all meaningless, because we made them that way. I didn't remember anything about them. So I went back home, to South Park. That's why I was at your graduation. By the way, if you still have my pants I would like them back sometime."
"Sure, I'll look around for them." Stan laughed, "So, what did you do after that?" He was once again looking at Drake as he smoked, the frail bits of haze floated from his chapped lips like clouds in the wind.
"Well, I moved to Loveland and got a job as a sculptor. They love that shit there, always having festivals for it. And I started going to Front Range Community College for Art History. I transferred here this year and now," Drake turned on his side and sighing as he looked directly into Stan's eyes. "and now I'm laying in the grass, with some smart ass jock from my high school. Speaking of high school, you and that Jew kid ever get together?"
Stan went pale, his eyes the size of dinner plates, "you… you knew we.. Were gay?" Stan mumbled.
"Well of course. You guys were practically dry humping each other every day when you were around each other and you thought no one was looking." Drake joked.
"Was it really that bad? Oh God. I'm sorry, I just, I mean Kyle and I, well technically I'm dating him. But he's gotten really popular here and sometimes he'll come home from an away game and he won't even look at me. Like he thinks by not looking me in the eye I won't know about all the things that happened while he was gone." What had started as a simple answer was starting to create word vomit and Stan couldn't help but say all the things he had always wanted to say.
"And the worst part is I know he's not having sex with girls. I mean, he may be a foot ball stud and all but at home he's a hundred and ten percent bottom, he's only taken me like twice in three years . Which totally sucks because I really enjoyed it when I use a toy or something on myself. It feels great if you know what you're doing.
"But that's not the point, the point is, that when I make love to him after he gets home from a game I'll find bruises and sore spots that he didn't have before. I mean he is a football player, but getting tackled in a game doesn't rip your ass like that. He's come home stretched and bloodied before, he won't even let me touch him then, but I can tell by the way he walks up the front steps to the door."
Stan was on the verge of tears and somewhere during the tirade Drake had pulled Stan into his arms to hold the weeping boy against his chest as Stan continued, "And now, more then ever, I hate myself because I don't care. He's not the Kyle I fell for. He's mean and vindictive and all he cares about is sex and football. So I want him to come home in pain. It makes me happy to see him fail at sitting down because he deserves it but I love him and I want to make him feel like he still has somebody who cares about him. What am I supposed to do?"
Drake wrapped his arms tighter around Stan and unconsciously kissed Stan's midnight black hair, "Do you really love him Raven? I mean do you really know in your heart that you would give up anything in the world to make his life better? Would you give up painting for him?"
Stan slowly stopped crying and blinked rapidly to remove the tears, "Well, no. I love painting. I don't think I could ever give it up totally."
Drake pulled away slightly so he could look tenderly into Stan's eyes. "Then you've answered your own question." Drake whispered as he wiped a stray tear away from Stan's cheek, "You know what's in your heart and you know what you have to do. Besides, he's like such a money grubbing monopoly playing Jew conformist anyway."
Stan laughed so hard his sides hurt. "Totally." He agreed, once again adapting the goth monotone he had taken up once when he was eight.
The pair smiled and stared blissfully into the fathoms of each other's eyes. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other, a happy calm grew between them and Stan hesitantly closed the short distance between their lips.
The kiss was short and sweet, and everything you can imagine a kiss under the stars being. But soon Stan's tongue started to wander and Drake forced himself to pull away from the boy. Stan let out a small whine, but before Drake could explain the hiss of the sprinkler system sounded and the two had to sprint for dry ground.
"Wow you must be psychic." Stan joked with a smile as he wrapped his arms around Drake's neck and went in for another breath taking kiss. But Drake pulled away yet again; grabbing Stan's wrists to hold him back as he pressed his forehead against Stan's.
"That's not why I stopped, Raven. I stopped because I can't do this." Stan blinked in confusion and whimpered softly. "What I mean, Raven, is that I can't do this now. I've wanted it for too long to only have it half way. If I'm going to have you. I have to have you 100%, no strings attached. So please, break it off with Kyle first, and then call me. Because God only knows how much it's killing me to stop." Drake's voice was shaking as he struggled with himself and his need to have Stan in his arms.
Stan sighed, but pulled away and nodded, "OK, but will it be ok if I crash at your place for awhile afterward."
Drake smiled happily and grabbed Stan for another hug, "Of course, after all, I can't have that conformist pig tainting my little black bird ever again."
Stan rolled his eyes and returned the warm embrace, "You turned into such an emo-kid."
Author's note: So yeah, not done, but it'll get better. I'm working on expanding more of my stories into multi-chapter story lines instead of just one-shot smut. This is my drama story line. SO please review. It's my first South Park pairing but hopefully not my last. I might have the mole come back from the dead and seduce my duchy Kyle after this stuff happens. But I don't know, tell me what you guys think.