Kenny McCormick's is a strange case. Stranger than most--in that he's dead. That's not particularly odd, right? The peculiar part is that in about three days he'll be alive and well. Because Kenny, unlike the average person who only dies once, dies quite frequently. It's like a cycle. Gets killed in yet another, different, gruesome, harrowing way, stays deceased for a few days, comes back fresh and new exactly where the unfortunate scene occurred. No one knows why, not eve the boy himself (unless he's hiding something from us.)

This time it was a heart attack, from some unusually strenuous activities involving his partner in crime and confidante, Craig Tucker.


Craig kneeled over his friend's motionless body, fingers carefully searching for a pulse on the moist, cooling terrain of his neck. Craig was calm as ever, hands finding that the familiar skin was growing cold and that that meant Kenny was definitely, no doubt about it, quite dead. And to be perfectly honest with himself, Craig was pretty fucking pissed.

Kenny's sudden, inconvenient death had left him alone and ridiculously hard after they had chosen to hole up in Craig's empty house so they could satisfy their stupid horny teenage selves without the company of either of their families. And now...well.

Nothing, really.

Craig's fingers lingered there for a moment, moving idly down over Kenny's stiff, cool chest and back up again. He was, in a strange sort of way, kind of beautiful when he was dead. Craig would've drawn him or something if he had the skills and patience. Sighing, he laid down next to the other, fingers running fondly across his chest and stomach, Craig's pulsating lower half pressed against Kenny's sharp hip.

Thinking about it logically, this was really fucking creepy, just laying there touching a freaking dead person, but Kenny's smooth exposed skin, the way the golden hair fell around his perfectly cut face, and the pressure on Craig's aching erection made him think otherwise.

He glanced up at Kenny's lips, still and pink and parted in death, and thought for a meaningless second before reaching up and pressing his mouth to the other boy's. There would have usually been some sort of thoughts of morals, a battle of Craig's conscience, but he had kind of given up anything of the variety a while back.

And so here he was, not disappointed at all anymore that Kenny wouldn't kiss back, almost, admittedly, pleased. Climbing over the lifeless form of his friend sprawled on the floor, the smooth cool, contact became something he craved even more than their usual intoxicating, slick, sweaty hot fervor. He could feel his own skin heating on Kenny's as he experimentally slid his hips up, exhaling in a shuddery moaning breath and repeating the action. He kept his eyes fixed on Kenny's face, looking into frozen crystal eyes that wouldn't look back and biting his own lip nervously.

It was the invigoration, purely, of doing something so forbidden and strange, something he wasn't supposed to do to anyone--not to Kenny, not to a girl, not to anyone or anything-that turned him on so much. Just the excitement and the terror, coupled with that feeling of Kenny's skin like that against him.

As if Kenny could hear, Craig breathed his name onto his pale face, hips twitching involuntarily. The sensation was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, the amazing feeling of thrusting, rubbing smoothly against Kenny's lithe body, and the results still being absolutely incredible. Thoughts, ideas, memories, images, flooded and flicked through Craig's brain. The roughness on his tongue of taking Kenny, in entirety, into his impatient mouth, of Kenny's slick teasing and-either being fucked into heated, mindless oblivion, or of Kenny's tight, tense ass clenched around Craig's throbbing cock…

Craig grasped the sides of Kenny's face in his hands, slathering his wet, hungry mouth over Kenny's motionless lips, tongue darting in anxiously, hands sliding roughly down his bare chest before reaching down to grasp Kenny's cock with both hands. While still grinding into him for all the fuck he was worth (which probably wasn't much). That his fingers were in the way felt surprisingly good. Stimulating. Craig touched the other without holding anything back, the skin in his hands so alien. Hard, yes, literally, as in rigor mortis hard, like the rest of him, but not erect, and not the scorching temperature he was used to. Just-fuck. Yes.

He wanted the cool skin all over himself. God, did he, the delicious refreshing flesh. He liked how Kenny didn't do anything, giving him this sense of ridiculous power. He liked Kenny dead. It was fucking hot, that's what. He knew, and it should've freaked him out.

He's just…unconscious, Craig thought, wistfully watching Kenny's perfect pretty face. That's all.

His curious fingers brushed down Kenny's conveniently spread legs, gaze traveling down to look contemplatively in between them. He wondered…

Hand slipping down to his own erection, Craig stroked himself in desperate, maddening need, fingers deftly and distractedly catching the precum that leaked disobediently from the slit and rubbing it over the rest of the muscle.

He paused for a moment after, considering whether he should even try to decide on the morality of the thing, but then again, this was Craig. Craig who didn't give a shit about anything.

Craig, newly proclaimed necrophile, and, consequently, sicko.

He carefully lifted the other-who was unusually heavy-about halfway into his lap. Heart pounding at an alarmingly fast rate, half from that exhilaration of wrongdoing and half from arousal, Craig entered Kenny with a gentleness that suggested he might crumble into a million little pieces.

Finding solidity in the firmness of the space enveloping and squeezing him, Craig pulled himself out with minor difficulty, gripping Kenny's hips in a more secure grasp and slamming back in hard. He glanced up to the boy's glassy eyes, which stared back at him blankly, every feature and muscle frozen. And he repeated his actions, forcing his length into Kenny's rigid body, letting his eyes slip shut, the sweat bead up along his hairline, the shattered moans leave his lips. His fervent thrusting became more enthusiastic with each push, the feeling of Kenny being not nearly big enough for him to fit and being so entirely unresisting just so amazing. He let out a soft whimper, leaning in to press his face into Kenny's shoulder and wrapping long legs around his fragile waist.

And all it took Craig from there was just a few more tense movements before coming, whole body shuddering uncontrollably from the sheer bliss and force of the orgasm as he emptied himself into Kenny.

Craig collapsed on top of him, breathing harshly and exhausted from so much ecstasy, heart thumping erratically. He pressed gentle lips to Kenny's one more time, tongue dipping in to taste the sweet metallic flavour of blood on its tip.

Kenny's was a strange case indeed.