Disclaimer: South Park and al its characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker. I am making no money off of this fic.

A/N: This one's really dirty to me. Kyle doesn't even get violated THAT bad, but I felt dirty writing it. Buuut, that's a good thing for readers, right? : D

BEAUTIFUL DREAMER

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He knew he'd find him like this. Cartman's stupid science project had killed the fish--all of them. So it made sense even a person would suffer some kind of side effect. It was just lucky that Kyle hadn't passed out anywhere near Cartman. Kenny shuddered. They all knew Cartman wanted Kyle as his bitch-boy. The redhead of course was oblivious, but Stan and Kenny had to play witness day in and day out to the lust in hate's clothing. Not that Kenny had completely platonic intentions either, but he was certainly no Eric Cartman. As he vehemently he reminded himself of this fact, he approached the sleeping boy, green hat sent askew on his head when he must've slumped over.

Glancing furtively around to find the shadowed section of the park empty, Kenny knelt carefully down next to the slumbering figure, his eyes caressing every angle of Kyle in his sprawled state. He wanted to touch him. It wasn't like he'd never come in contact with the other boy, but with Kyle unconscious... he could touch him in the way he wanted to. Had been wanting to. For an embarrassing amount of time. Trembling fingers emerged from the sleeve of his coat and followed the smooth line of Kyle's jaw up into thick red hair.

Kyle was really hot. His body was slender, but fit with natural muscle from his active lifestyle. His skin was unblemished, tan for a redhead, not that Kyle was any regular ginger. Instead of an obnoxious strawberry blonde that bleached his features, the Daywalker's hair was darker, richer. The perfect color to set off green eyes, fiery in anger when yelling at Cartman, or soothing when he comforted Stan after a breakup with Wendy. And brilliant when shining with tears as Kenny died. That almost made dying worth it.

People were both drawn to him, and repelled. Because he was confident, because he was different. Kenny personally loved his defiance. Kyle wasn't afraid of anything. Even Kenny, who thought himself past any fears after dying so often, still was afraid sometimes.

With his other hand he tipped up Kyle's chin, brushing their lips together. A small shock erupted at the light connection. Kenny flinched back a little in surprise, fingers fleetingly touching his tingling lips before moving to gingerly take Kyle's face in his hands. The next kiss was deeper. In sleep, Kyle's lips parted easily, allowing Kenny to thoroughly taste his friend. Then his eager hands rubbed down Kyle's body, groping through clothes until he could push them up under the familiar jacket. Skin stretched warm and smooth under his callused fingers, faintly outlining a firm stomach and dancing around pert nipples. Pushing the fabric up higher, Kenny dropped his mouth to one dusky nipple, laving it with the flat of his tongue, fingers pinching and rolling the one opposite. He froze when a small sigh came from Kyle, blue eyes flying to the peaceful face. The redhead looked content, and that's all the encouragement Kenny needed. Swinging a leg up, he straddled Kyle's waist, grinding down in an attempt to somewhat relieve the erection nosing against the front of his pants. Glancing around once more, he hurriedly unzipped his jeans and drew his hard dick out, spitting on his right hand to ease his strokes. With his remaining hand he petted and felt as much of his friend as he could, flexing his legs to raise himself and drop back down, riding Kyle's hips. Leaning forward, balancing himself on Kyle's chest, he experimentally thrust, groaning as the angle allowed more contact. The hand on his cock moved faster, aided by friction and the thrilling urgency of this act in a public place.

Kyle's breathing had quickened in sleep, heat spreading over his cheeks. Kenny pictured those green eyes open, lips swollen and bruised from hard kisses. His friend would moan and cry out his name. Instead of riding a clothed cock, urgently jacking himself, Kenny would be inside a house, on a bed, fucking Kyle on his back so that he could see every shock of pleasure and need to cross that pretty face.

"Kyle," he moaned quietly, rocking harder, imagining how tight his friend would be, how hot. He'd beg Kenny to fuck him harder, tell him that he belongs to him, that only Kenny could make him feel this way. Folding his body over, hand still fisting madly at his own dick, Kenny closed his teeth over Kyle's neck where it met his shoulder, sucking viciously. Drawing back his eyes alighted on a deep purple mark that would remain for days, fuck the consequences. Rubbing his cheek over a flat chest, Kenny panted and moaned, working harder against Kyle, writhing atop the boy. His free hand was scratching, grabbing, kneading, pulling. He was close. He felt it well inside of him, gathering at the base of his cock. Stroking himself with blinding speed, he remembered to aim away, knowing that cum on clothes would be damning evidence when Kyle finally woke up. As it hit, he arched, crying out. Before he stopped, he scrambled up, aiming the last jet at Kyle's face. Drops hit a partially open mouth, streaking his cheeks. Kenny groaned, almost crouching above his friend's face as he hungrily watched his seed trail over Kyle's skin. That sight could make him cum all over again, but he knew sooner or later someone was going to come through the park.

Tucking himself back into his pants, Kenny leaned down to clean Kyle's face, tasting himself before dipping his tongue between Kyle's lips to seal a cum-filled kiss. Cock twitching, he withdrew, breathing heavily, eyes gleaming with revived lust. But he needed to stop. Returning Kyle's clothes to a less crumpled state, he reached into a side pocket to retrieve Kyle's phone. As he dialed Stan, he let his fingers play over the redhead's face before tugging his collar aside to regard the darkening hickey with pleasure. He bent to kiss it. Stan answered.

"Stan! It's Kenny... I know. He's kind of unconscious at the moment..." There was a brief flash of guilt over his face, "No, I didn't do anything to him..." Guilt was smothered by a lecherous grin as a he pressed his thumb into the bruise, "It was that shit Cartman kept giving to the fish. It has some weird side effects... Yeah, bruising... Uh, all over him..."

Fin.

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A/N: Bahahahaa. Dirty boy, Kenny! This was soooooOOOoooo short. Sorry. : / If you'd like the next story to be longer maybe tell me so (inareview). : D

-Villain