I should have know…
"Come on, Stan!"
… That coming to move into the apartment next to Kenny and Butters in Los Anglos was a bad idea. But no! instead, I said to myself, "I haven't seen them in so long! I should go!" Truthfully, at the time, I didn't even remember what they looked like. But then again, my memory has never been the best. I hardly remember what my mom looks like half the time. And, you know, I should have made myself stay back in Denver - in cold, disgusting, filthy, podunk Denver. Hell, South Park would be better than this.
But no, I just had to come live in LA with "muh best buh-ddies ever," didn't I? And now, here I am, feeling depressed and flighty and just trying to lay down, and there's Kenny and Butters tugging on me and pushing on me to go out to their favorite club with them. Again.
"Lay off, guys, we went last night! And the night before that and the night before that and…"
I try to protest, cross my arms over my chest and keep my feet flat on the floor, but Butters interrupts my protesting tirade of tirade-ness with a grunt. He does the same as me and gives me a fake angered face, and Kenny retreats too when the "angry" blond says rather loudly and sternly, "Fine!"
This really doesn't startle any of us at all, but Kenny and I both stare at him as if we were shocked by it. Quickly, he lunges for Kenny's hand and takes it tightly in his, pulling the other blond in his direction. Really, I don't think anyone would expect Butters to be strong, especially with his height level being that of women and the amount of muscle on his arms being zero. Butters turns away from me with a little "humph" noise, heading straight for the door to go to the club without me. Bingo! Just what I want--
Kenny, though, just before reaching the door, turns back around and points to the side of my apartment that's adjacent to theirs directly through the wall with a smirk. Much to my chagrin, he then makes a rather suggestive motions with his hips in Miss Butters' direction.
Karma's on my side though. Since he's looking in my direction, he almost trips on the way out the door.
So, I'm left behind in my apartment, standing in the front hall, staring blankly at my door and where my two best friends were there just a moment before, feeling rather flabbergasted. I'm like this not only because of the fact that they'd leave me behind, but that Kenny really meant that they would going to probably do it very loudly on the other side of my bedroom wall.
I shiver at the thought.
Now, I just wish to go home after they do that, so I swing open my front door and give in. "Fine!" I shout it out so it's heard down the streets of this fucking city. "I'll go, I'll go…" I had my eyes shut just in case Kenny and Butters were doing something outside my door that I'd rather not see.
I open one eye when nothing happens. And there is nobody there.
Opening both now, I don't see them in front of me. I turn my head and there I find Butters, running down the hall of the apartment building towards me, Kenny walking after him with a smirk - he probably knew I'd give in, just like last night and the night before and-- next thing I know, Butters leaps and wraps his thin, very feminine arms around me, toppling me to the ground.
Kenny steps over us as Butters hugs me tightly and, let me tell you, for a scrawny, little girly thing like he is, not only is he strong, he's pretty heavy, and I can't manage to get out of his almost painful hug. "Oh, Stan! I promise you'll have fun!" Kenny just grins down at me as I try to wrestle out of this awkward hug, and, I swear to God, if he says something like, "well, well, well. Isn't this sexy?" or something, with that word "sexy" that includes our rather compromising position, I'll punch him in the nose.
Boy, the thought of decking him in the face feels really good…
"Well, well, well… isn't this a sexy sight for sore eyes?"
I swear to you, God, that my murdering of Kenny McCormick will be the most brutal you have ever seen. He has said the same thing to me every night for the past few weeks since I moved in.
As soon as Kenny helped get Butters off of me, Butters launches himself back for me, but this time, so does Kenny. I groan as both giggle and take my arms, one of either side of me. "Come on, guys, get off of me. At least let me go back in & change into something else." At this, Butters looks at Kenny, then glances backward and up at me.
"Fine," he says, letting go of my arm. Kenny must be in sync with him; he lets go of my arm at the same time as Butters. I step back quickly, just in case they feel like latching on to me again, but they don't, but they both look calm and as calm as can be now. I look between them quickly, then step turn to open my door, although I only take a half-step in.
"One more thing," I say, almost darkly. This catches their attention and they perk to alertness as I turn around to face them…
To sucker punch Kenny right in the gut.
With Kenny buckled over in winded pain and Butters freaking out and trying to assist his wailing boyfriend, I step into my apartment happily and shut the door behind me - like a cool guy walking away from an explosion he just set off, you know, like in the movies? Yeah, just like that. Hey, I may have shut the door in their faces, but I'll be a good friend and go with them. I mean, sheesh, I'm not that meant that I would leave them behind…
A little while later, I step back out of my apartment, fresh and feelin' good. Kenny steps up to me and very harshly jabs me in the side with his elbow. "Didja' sexy and freshen up for mister H-o-double t?" Kenny jeers and I push him half-playfully when he starts talking smack about the guy from the bar I have the hots for.
"Shut up, Ken."
He scoffs. "Hey, you started it!"
"Yeah, I did..." I say, balling my hand into a fist and swinging hard, stopping just before his face. "And don't make me finish it." To this, he raises his hands in mock defeat, telling me that "I was just joking!"
"Come on, Stan, Kenny," Butters says, stepping between us to play ref, even if Kenny already surrendered. "Let's just go now, okay?" I shrug in agreement. Kenny lopes his arms around the backs of our necks. And puts me into a tight headlock.
"Yeah! Let's go!" He says rather loudly and begins to tug us along down the stairwell of the apartment complex, half-choking me as we go.
I just had to come along, didn't I?
Of course I did. Because I'm just that good of a friend to these two that I'd decide to move in with them after not seeing them for so long after graduating from high school, then, for every night that I'm here, go out clubbing with them to their favorite bar.
"Come on, Stan," Kenny says to me. "Have a little fun! I mean, if you can't get mister hots, then maybe it's time to just give up on him!" I scoff, especially because he's such a hypocrite. Since he figured out he was bisexual, he'd been after Butters but never had the guts to actually do more than talk to him; Kenny, the Sex God who didn't have any guts to ask out another dude until we were almost seventeen.
"No, no, no!"
"Kenny, leave him alone…" Kenny shrugs, hands in his pockets. He looks at Butters a moment, then reaches forward to take his hand. Butters blinks at him.
"Well, he needs to stop pussy-footing around, then!" He says, looking at me slightly coldly. I knew I shouldn't have come tonight. I just wanted to stay home!
"You hypocrite…" I say, just under my breath, and he looks ticked for a moment, then calms down. Then, he takes the other hand out of his pocket and raises up a fist to me.
"Fuck you," he says blatantly, and pulls a move just like someone I used to know that always wore a blue hat, and sticks up his middle finger right at me. Butters blushes slightly in shock -- the poor girl. Then, they turn around and walk straight off into the dancing crowd.
Oh. Did I forget to mention? Yeah, it's a gay bar. For gay people. With lots of gay people inside.
I mean, I have nothing against gays - I live next to one and a half-gay and I'm half-gay myself. By half-gay, by the way, I mean bisexual or something. But I don't really care what gender someone is anymore.
In here, it's a harder game to play. You have to learn who is who, what is what. It's not a boy-girl one-night stand where you walk into a bar and pick the first hot chick you see. You have to know. You can't come in, pick another gay man and waltz out, even if he is hot and you'd bang him in a heart beat, because, for all you know, he could be the one that wants to be banging you. You can't have mix-ups like that. You can't put two and two together if those two just don't mesh together.
So, here I am. In this bar, this gay bar, that I just had to come to. For the twenty-first day in a row. Standing at the bar with no one but myself & the seat I'm sitting in, closing my eyes occasionally when the strobe lights from the DJ's stage flow over me and cast me in a pure blue. Other than that, I'm red. Literally, from the dim red lights above the bar, and metaphorically.
Out of curiosity and need of comfort, I swivel in my chair once I figure the blue light has already passed me over. It has, of course, and I face the crowd. The crowd is mostly a lot of gay men and a few spare lesbians grinding on each other. Otherwise, there are a few people in there who are trying to be normal and - oh, no, I lied, there aren't any of those. Well, there's me. But I'm not in that crowd right now. And the employees just don't count.
I was at first trying to find Kenny and Butters so I could interrupt their grinding spree and make them take me home, but now I'm looking for one person and only one person. I've probably searched for this same person about a hundred times tonight, and maybe a thousand times the first twenty nights. I've probably found him a thousand times the first twenty nights. I've probably caught his eye a thousand times the first twenty nights. I've probably lost the nerve to talk to him a thousand times the first twenty nights. I've gone home without him the first twenty nights.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight is gonna be different. Tonight, I'm gonna find him. Tonight, I'm gonna take him home. Tonight, I'm going to make him mine. Yeah, though, it probably will be a one-night stand. But, I'll make sure that he comes back to me again and again, until he just decides to stay or I ask him to.
But, then again, I've probably said the same thing the first twenty nights. But twenty-first times' a charm right?
But, then again, I really have said that every night after the first. So maybe this night's gonna suck just as much as the first twenty did.
This is why I didn't want to come tonight. This is why I didn't want to come tonight. This is why I didn't want to come tonight. But maybe tonight is just one more chance to get him? Maybe tonight's the night. It's just gonna be.
I've said that every night too.
So far, I've taken note of every person in this room. I know the entire layout by now. My memory is terrible, but I have good recognition of the most useless things. Like how I can't remember a single formula I used in algebra, but I can remember something utterly useless, like that one cubic mile of seawater contains about 50 pounds of gold or that the Boston University bridge is the only place in the world where a boat can sail under a train running under a car driving under an airplane.
And now I see him as I finish off my thoughts with one last note that polar bears really aren't white, the light shines off their black skin and makes the translucent hairs appear white. But he has nothing to do with polar bears.
You know, every time I see him, I get this feeling of nostalgia. I don't know what it is. It's so…
He looks up from where he is dancing in the crowd. I think he knows. His green eyes catch mine in a seductive, quick glance before he turns back to the guy he's dancing with. Looking over the shoulder of the other male, he looks at me. He looks me up and down. He looks at his partner, then he looks at me and blinks his fabulous green eyes that remind me of a field so open that you could run through it forever and never find the edge of the green, green grass.
We've done this every night.
He turns again, emerald jewels still locked on me as he turns on his dancing partner, wrapping himself around his partner's leg, straddling the other man's thigh tightly between his legs to grind against it in time with the beat of the music.
We do this every night.
I can see him let out a moan; a moan that I want him to make from me. I can see his partner smirk wildly with ecstasy. I have to watch as his partner places a hand on that beautifully curled red hair, run his hand through the sweet waves that hang off his hand and down around his face. His hair isn't the kind that holds so much volume like an afro, you see; it curls around his soft cheekbones, onto his flushed face from around his ears. I watch as he strokes that hair that anyone would want to touch; that I should be touching now. I have to watch as I become a little green monster the color of his eyes, sick with envy.
We do this every night.
When he leans his head back in euphoria, I lean mine forward to kiss his neck. His partner doesn't. His partner smiles brightly down at him, and if it weren't for his tantalizing gaze being stuck square on me, I'd probably be cursing off his partner. If it weren't for how I felt him dancing on me with his eyes on me, I'd be ready to waltz over his partner and punch him square off from there. His eyes beckon me over to him, even as they close a moment so he can let out a moan into the hot, moist air of the crowd, his face flushed out as he imagines doing this to me, doing this to me, and me doing that to him, giving him that euphoria that completely takes you away from where you are and what you're doing, no matter your age, that supersonic feeling of a stupor, a complete rapture into ecstasy.
We do this every night.
And what have I done every other night that I come, that I see him dancing with someone else, that I long for him to be with me? I lose my chance, that's what; I haven't gotten him yet. Twenty nights I've known him. But it feels like so much longer than that, like I already knew him and so…
Tonight has to be the night.
I feel nervousness wash over me, but outside I keep a straight face. I tremble as I open my mouth when his eyes shift themselves back over me. First, my words come out as a moan; I can feel him on me. Dancing with me. Dancing on me. "Come here," I say to him, I command of him. I know he can't hear me, but I know he understands. His mouth opens and he lets out a breath, a small gasping moan, as his eyes cavort, frolic, dance over me with lust, need and love.
We have never done this before tonight.
As if in a trance, he lets go of his partner, who looks in surprise down at him, asks him where he is going. But he doesn't notice. He continues on in a direct path toward me, overlooking other dancers as if they weren't there, nimbly moving through the crowd with a smirk on his red lips as if he were a ghost, just flowing through them, coming to me and me alone from the other side of the dance floor.
He wants me, he wants me, he wants me.
It's like no one else is there. And, to us, no one else was ever there, we just never realized it before tonight. He's not even here and I'm already aching for him so badly. He needs to relieve me; I need to relieve him. Take me, please, just take me, he pleads; I'll take you, I'll give you what you want, everything you need.
He's so close, now, so close.
Soft. Warm. Hot. Exotic.
This is what he is to me right now. Soon, he's gonna burn up; he's burning up for me. His skin is so soft… I want to touch him more. I need to touch him more.
I push him back against the wall just after we step into my apartment, very gently, as if he's a delicate package. He's kinda small; easy to push, much smaller than me. I smirk down at him.
With one-night stands, you don't' look them in the eyes like you mean it, you don't kiss like you would a true lover or significant other, you don't hold them or spoon after sex. Normally, if you moan out someone else's name, you'd be considered rude by your current partner. But one-night stands are different. Some may go if you do, others may stay, pass it over like it was nothing. With one-night stands, you don't have a name, so it makes a lot of things okay to do. Your partner has no name either, so you're both now open territory to walk on. Though some people will be offended if you moan out your true love's name or something. But most will understand, and, hey, they might be doing it too.
I want something more with him though. I need to keep making him come back to me, even if its just for this. I want to know his name, I need to know his name. I just need to.
Looking down at him, I see him grin up at me so cutely that I think my heart melted all over his image. His cheeks are faintly colored red with blush. To me, he looks a little warm. I grin down at him and raise my hands, touching the hem of his shirt to tug it gently. He's only a one-night stand right now, so I can't look him in the eyes. He doesn't look me in the eyes either. We know the rules of this game.
I tug gently again with one hand, then pull on it with both, on his orange tight tee. I swiftly lift it up and over his head, to which he happily obliges and lets it slide over his head and off his arms to fall down on the ground next to us. I smile as I look him up and down. He's so thin…
I lift my hands to drag my fingers delicately across his skin once more. So soft… I can't help but smile when he then lets out a little moan of delight as I run my hand across his chest, then he looks up at my starry-eyed.
It may just be me, but this doesn't feel like a one-night stand. It feels like I've known him so long and I'm trying to take it slow like it's my first time or something. I lean over, kiss his collarbone. He releases a giggle and I spread my grin across his chest. I kiss the fair skin continuously until I make my way down to his actual chest area, adding licks and nips here and there. He just moans in delight, and I can't help but smile brighter when he does. Even his giggle seems familiar somehow.
I look up at him teasingly. His fingers are almost in his mouth as the other hand is aching to grab at me, his cheeks red with blush as he watches me in blank rapture. I grin and stand up again, dragging my hands up the back of his thighs so that when I'm standing my hands are down at his sides, groping him gently at first. He squirms slightly, letting out a small noise of pleasure, biting down on his forefinger as he asks for more of me already.
With blush and a half-grinning smile on his lips, he lifts one hand and tugs me closer to him, breathing upward against my lips in a hot released moan for more. I'm perfectly happy to oblige. I grope him yet again from behind then push him up, eliciting a squeak from those delicate lips of his.
"Don't worry," I whisper as I lean forward in his ear, blowing in it so lightly that it makes him squirm in my grasp yet again, holding his legs around my waist so he's straddling me mid-air. "I've got you." I grin as I press my lips to his ear, biting down on his earlobe gently. Yeah, he likes that, doesn't he? His whimpering titter tells me so.
Now, I've carried him far enough that I've made it to my room, kicking the door shut with one foot as he wraps his arms around my neck tightly, keeping my mouth to his neck as I press chaste kisses and nips and licks under his ear. I ease him down on my bed, pressing hard against him, already beginning to buck my hips against his when I feel that same euphoric excitement wash over me, the same state of lascivious privy that he's getting right now.
I hear him groan; I'm making him groan in a way that sets me completely alight, just by rolling my hips against his. It creates a static that just fills us up completely; it's what we need. Right now, it's all we need, all we want from each other. Now, I want to do it - one-night stand or not. I break the line of kisses and bites against the fair skin of his neck and move my lips above his just as I roll my hips again in time for him to let another moan out onto my lips. I groan in a joyful agony as I feel that I need him more and more.
I set my lips down on his, gently at first. I feel him press back, his arms growing tighter around my neck to hold me in close. I let out a breathy, whimpering moan against his lips as we press them hard against each other, and I feel like a boy in love - finally kissing that girl - well, in this case, a boy - of his dreams, like in a fairytale that must be so familiar to everyone; what everyone must dream first kisses to be. We keep this kiss, wild and passionate yet so simple, for quite a while as we just rock our hips together again and again. I'm hardly able to contain myself now, I know I'm going to have to let loose…
We moan in unison against each other, breaking the kiss, and I take this chance to dart my tongue out, licking his lips. He opens his mouth again for me, letting me in and letting his tongue out to dance in the air with mine. He tastes so sweet, his lips are addictive; they taste like sugar. Oh, he's fucking sweet candy; I want him all to myself.
"Your shirt," he whimpers against me after we separate once more, trying to regain breaths. It comes out breathy and I now realize that his hands have crawled up my back from under my shirt. I nod and smile down at him, rocking my hips against his once more, watching him to see his face scrunch up in such a cute and erotic way when I do, also helping to get me out of my shirt.
I move so I'm half sitting up, and, looking down at his flushed body, slowly and teasingly take off my shirt by crossing my arms over my chest to pull it upwards over my head. I shiver as the temperature of the room immediately hits my chest which had grown used to the heat between us by now. Then I put myself back down on him, my mouth near his waistline. I grin against his lower stomach, just above his pant line, then press a wet kiss there, licking my lips before I do so. He shivers and I tug gently at his tight jeans, slowly pulling them lower on his waist as I nip and bite upwards on his stomach, raising another hand to tweak at his chest so he moans out again; all for me.
We've never done this before.
It's so… good, I can't... stop myself…
I gasp lightly against his stomach as he thrusts his hips down on mine, his legs still encircling my waist. I grunt and try to regain my composure again. I want for this to be something he'll want again and again, and I don't even know why I want him to feel that way - I just know that I do. It's almost like… I have to know him! I need him now. I feel like I've always wanted him. We thrust against each other in unison. His every breath, the way he tastes, his appearance; he see--
I can't hold it in any more; I know that he can't do it either.
We moan ensemble to each other.
My eyes flare open and I look up at him. He knows my name. I can tell by the look on his face that I said his as well. I feel my breathing increase slightly, the blush on his face practically increasing my blood pressure. I almost want to vomit, but I know I won't - I lost that habit of doing that out of nervousness long ago in my tween years. The blush on his face is so great, and I look him straight in the eyes as I notice all the marks I left on his chest, on his neck; almost, I can see the ones I left on his mind, and maybe the ones on his heart.
"S… Stan M-Marsh?"
--ms so familiar.
So! That's all there is. Maybe I'll continue it if I get enough reviews & hits on it, maybe… Depends on if you ask nicely! I thought about turning this into a story, but then again… it all depends on whether you guys want me to continue it or not!
Thanks for reading! PLEASE read & review; I won't write another chapter if you don't!