CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
yyoouuuu aaarreeeee a cinneemmaaaaaaa
cinema by benny benassi
authors note: warning this ends in a few chapters warning over
but dont worry youll still get your fair share of award-winning literature from me for years and years to come
it never ends
also sorry this took like however the fuck long fucking accept it
Kyle finds himself in the kitchen, again, trying to make a perfect lunch for his perfect man so that maybe Stan could begin to see the eagerness and devotion that Kyle feels towards getting them back to normal again- and maybe he could feel that too, through eating his favorite meal ever. Kyle knew exactly what that was, he's known that since they were little tykes, and he also knew that upon eating this meal Stan was a lot happier and kept a really open mind.
The meal that was the key to Stan's understanding was a tofu burger patty cooked in sizzling Jameson whiskey, with just enough barbecue sauce but not too much which meant it couldn't touch the edges of the fake meat, topped with roasted onions cut into little squares and arranged in the middle to form a heart. And when Stan ate this, it was usually followed by squeezes and nuzzles and continuous mumbles of I love you.
So Kyle was making this, while humming a little catchy tune, listening idly to the beating streams of water coming from the golden shower, where Stan was currently showering. It was weird, hearing Stan shower, because that sound used to mean come the fuck in here, and now Kyle knew he probably wasn't really allowed to do that, even though it was unspoken. But maybe he was. After all, Stan must still love him, somewhere, even if he doesn't want to say it.
Kyle comes to the conclusion that he's going to go check, because that sound is quite frankly driving him fucking off the wall, and if Stan chucks a shampoo bottle at him and tells him to get out of his sight, well, that's how it is. So he turns off the skillet, figuring the patty was cooked enough by now, anyway, and he puts down the spatula and starts to walk towards the golden bathroom, towards the source of that inviting, tantalizing noise.
When he hits the door he exhales slowly, reaching out with a delicate grasp and turning the knob ever so slightly, not really believing that he's actually fucking doing this. But there was something controlling him beyond his own control, something that told him that this was completely right, that everything was going to work out, that you can do this- and Kyle figured that was probably the love talking.
He gets the door open, and when his nose is met with that fucking smell, the mixture of mens' shampoo and steam and mixed in with the undeniable scent of Stan, that's pretty much the key to his dick. It's also what makes him start stripping, while watching the blurry fleshy silhouette that is Stan behind the translucent curtains, because there's absolutely no way that he can contain himself much more.
So he exhales deep and slowly takes a handful of the curtain, bracing himself for whatever potential physical damage is at stake here.
"Stan?" he calls out, soft and vulnerable, like a lost kitten mewling for its mother, something without purpose, something without anyone or anything to love. He hears a soft breath of surprise from Stan, and peels back the curtain a little bit to reveal the rest of his face, and Kyle realizes that with every twitch of his dick stimulated by Stan's drop dead gorgeous appearance, Stan can actually see the evidence now. So when he meets his eyes, eyelashes wet and dark, drops dripping and clinging against his face, his raven locks sleeker and wet, and his cerulean crystal sapphire blue eyes looking more like the ocean than ever before- he regrets his lack of skinny jeans to hide his physical want.
"Kyle," his voice is like a husky whisper, and Kyle wants to let out the longest sigh of relief and victory and triumph, because Stan's tone was so free of anger or rejection that it was the most rewarding tone that he had ever heard. It was almost like an invitation, Kyle realizes, with Stan's perfect pink lips parted and twisting to the side in an almost almost almost smirk.
Kyle starts to walk in beside Stan beyond his own control, stepping over the edge of the golden bathtub and pausing once in before any flesh could meet flesh, before he could do anything that would break any boundaries, testing the Stan waters. Kyle watches Stan's pupils expand against the cerulean waters in his eyes, darkening with a desire that he'll always keep.
"I-I'm sorry, I was making you lunch, but I just..." Kyle started, still at an enhanced whisper even though no one was home and the sound of the water beating against Stan's bare back almost muffled it.
"No, uh," Stan whispers back, and Kyle sees him hold back jerking forward a little bit, obviously just as lost as he was. "I was, uh, honestly, thinking about you in here. L-like."
"Yeah?" Kyle prods with a lower whisper, feeling like he's dreaming what with Stan looking at him so reverently and perfectly and framed by the steam, like he's some sex angel parting through the fog.
"Y-yeah, and I was wondering why I was leaving you alone, 'cause," Stan lets out this reluctant chuckle, but it's almost like a whispered chuckle, like a secret he's kept all this time that Kyle is about to know. "Like, you're just. Mine. I don't know."
Kyle can't stop the frantic nodding that he starts into, wanting so bad to give in to the magnetism pulsing through their naked, dripping bodies, connecting them in a sort of unspoken mixture of love and lust and devotion.
"Yeah," Kyle takes a little smidgeon of a step forward, tilting his head the tiniest bit. "I-I'm yours. I'm always yours. When I'm against you on an airplane, I'm yours. W-when you kiss me on a ferris wheel, I'm yours. When you impregnate me, I'm yours. When you tell me to abort it, I'm yours. When you fuck someone else, I'm yours. When you tell me we need to take a break, I'm yours. When I'm getting fucked by someone else in the hallways of TGI Friday's, I'm yours, Stan."
"Jesus," Stan chokes out, shaking his head at all their foolish mistakes in this godforsaken state, that they were taken over by the California vibe that they told themselves they wouldn't become a victim to. But he feels like those palm trees he sees out the golden window in their shower are a part of his identity, like those palm trees and that ocean view and that unusual morning sun define who he is. He can hardly remember the frosty slopes of their hometown.
"Look," Stan begins again, trying to regain his composure and give Kyle the speech of his god damn life. "I know I, um, I know I kind of gave up, for a second. And I let you go. Which was just fucking stupid, and it was me trying to convince myself that I didn't deserve you, that you could find better, and that by going out we were only fucking everything up, but."
He looks Kyle dead in the eyes, right deep into those forested pools. "But I was so wrong, dude. So wrong. W-what you… what you need isn't for me to just fucking abandon you, or whatever I had been trying to prove to myself. Because the fucking second I let you walk away, I felt more alone than I have my entire life, because you weren't like unconditionally by my side anymore, you were walking away from me. But I gave you the fucking permission. I gave you the permission to let Kenny fuck you, and you know what? I didn't ask you shit before Kenny fucked me, before I lost, fuck. Before I lost my fucking virginity. To Kenny. God. How did you let me do that?"
Kyle opens his mouth, and Stan frantically shakes his head upon realizing he was actually about to respond to that. "N-no, don't answer that, fuck. I just, I really wish that had been you, y'know? It wasn't really special with him, like, it was sex, but there wasn't any feeling with it, it was just. Sex, I don't know. I don't fucking know anymore, dude. I really don't. I feel like I had everything, all in the fucking palm of my hand and I just let it all get away from me and let you actually physically walk away. That's not fucking cool. So."
Stan starts to get down on a knee, which only sends another pulse coursing through Kyle's dick, only makes him think oh fuck he's going to suck me off for the first time. But, alas, these were not the intentions of adolescent Stan Marsh, as he began to pull what looked like a ring out of his ass or wherever the fuck he would have smuggled a ring.
And upon further inspection on Kyle's behalf, this was no ordinary engagement ring (fuck, he was actually getting out a fucking ring), for it was much to wide to fit on a single finger, let alone two. No, this shining golden ring which almost camouflaged against the golden bathtub and caught drops from the showered against its glistening surface, against the gorgeous, enormous diamond that brilliantly shimmered, perched along the side- this was no engagement ring. This was a cock ring.
This observation once again deflated Kyle's spirits, as Stan slowly began to move it towards his dick, because he had no intentions of running away and eloping with Kyle anyhow, all he was doing was taking out a cock ring. A diamond encrusted cock ring, in fact. That was a lot to pay for good sex.
"Kyle," Stan starts, and it's all deep and throaty and grinds Kyle back up again, staring down at this blue-eyed boy dripping with his face so lethally close to Kyle dick like that. "I know I've fucked up."
Kyle watches his every movement, slow and steady, braver and braver. Stan starts to continue once again, clearing his throat and shaking his head and biting his lip. Maybe he was so nervous about bestowing Kyle with this dick ring because they haven't had sex in so fucking long, or something. But this was a deeper sense of nervous, a boiling anxiety that only came across to Kyle as some kind of looming dread.
"I've fucked up, like, royally. But. I'm going to try to make it up to you. So," Stan touches the ring to Kyle's dickhead, and Kyle sighs with the contact and rests his head against the golden tiled shower walls. Cool, he's sucking him off to make up for all the shit he's given him. Perfect.
"Will you marry me?"
Kyle's dick goes soft.
"…What?" Kyle echoes, staring into the painful gaze that were Stan's expectant sapphire kitten eyes with alarm. "I… I, fuck, wait-"
"I knew it was stupid. Look, look, it's okay-"
"-wasn't going to ask until the last day-"
"-shouldn't fucking bother-"
"Fucking stop!" Kyle yells, at a much higher and broader volume than he thought was actually possible out of him.
"O-of course, I want to do this, dude, of course, I just, shit," Kyle rubs at his eyes, ignoring the constant stream of water pattering against his scalp. "Why are you doing this… now, and, with a… cock ring?"
Stan smirks a little, and Kyle's heart is mended a little bit at the sight. "It was so no one else could make you come. You're hard for me forever."
Kyle rolls his eyes but smiles because Stan is the cutiest cutie and he couldn't deny that no matter how fucking stupid his ideas could get, or how fucking stupid his actions could eventually spiral down into. "That's somehow cute in a twisted, irrational way."
Stan shrugs, and that single shrug courses throughout Kyle's body in a wave of this boy is so cute and he thrusts against the ring, slipping it somewhat onto his dick and then bending down to Stan's level. "Also, yes."
"You'd marry me? After all the bullshit I put you through?" Stan asks at almost a whisper, looking deep against those radiating emeralds belonging to Kyle Abraham Broflovski, future husband.
"Dude, don't be stupid," Kyle rolls his eyes and then finally, finally presses his lips ever so slightly against those of his ravenly counterpart, who moans hard at the union and pushes Kyle's naked body under his in one swift, seductive movement. And they made out and fucked, etc etc my eyes hurt i am tired bye