Kyle doesn't know exactly how it happened, only that it did.

One day, he looked at his best friend and concluded with a displeased churn of his stomach that he was in love.

He just hoped he didn't come off as stupid as Butters did every time he talked to Kenny.

Or looked at Kenny.

Or even stood next to Kenny.

And now he's at Token's stupid graduation party, long since abandoned by both Kenny and Stan, faking sick in one of the bedrooms upstairs.

Maybe he's not faking, though. Every time he saw Stan tonight, he had his hands further and further up Red's shirt, and she had her tongue deeper and deeper down his throat. If anything has ever made him queasy beyond all comprehension, it was definitely that.

The door to the room opens and interrupts his brooding.

"Oh, sorry," comes Butters' voice. "I was lookin' for the bathroom… you okay?"

"Fine," Kyle grunts and turns over, facing away from the door. "Just don't feel well."

"Oh," Butters says. "Well, um. D-d'you need anything? I was just lookin' for some aspirin anyway."

"No, I'm fine," Kyle snaps back a tad too harshly, and rolls over to see Butters still standing in the doorway. "Parties are just overwhelming. I don't know why I came."

"I know what you mean," Butters nods. "My head can't take crowds sometimes, I start goin' nuts."

Kyle sighs and, against his better judgment says, "You can come in if you want. I'm not doing anything."

"Thanks," Butters gives him a smile and comes to sit on the bed beside him. "Sorry if I'm bein' intrusive."

"Don't worry about it," Kyle sits up and rubs at his temples. His stomach still hurts, and now his brain throbs unpleasantly against his skull.

"You sure you're okay?" Butters asks. It's so genuine and well-meaning that Kyle can't come back with a snide remark, he just can't. But he also doesn't expect, "Do you ever hate how much you like Kenny?" to come out of his mouth either.

This seems to catch Butters off guard, and for a few moments he just sits there, mouth opening and shutting like a guppy, as he searches for the answer.

"I don't know," he replies finally. "Maybe? I never thought about it like that. I just like him. Why?"

Kyle sighs and hides his face in his hands. Everything in his body feels like it's going to explode, like his intestines will pop out at any moment and his brain will burst out of his ears. He looks up at Butters and says, "You have to fucking swear you're not going to tell anyone."

Butters eyes him for a second before he sighs and asks, "Is this about you havin' a crush on Stan?"

Well, motherfucker.

Kyle tugs at his hair and pulls as hard as he can. "Please tell me that no one else fucking knows about this," he pleads, and Butters shrugs.

"I don't know what other people know, Kyle," he comes back very plainly. "I haven't said anything to anyone about it if that's what you mean." When Kyle doesn't respond he continues, "I gotta say, I didn't expect you'd be that way."

"I'm not gay," Kyle snaps. "I just… like dudes sometimes."

Butters, to his credit, pulls off one of the most magnificent eye rolls Kyle has ever seen.

"Kyle, no one cares if you like boys or not," he shakes his head. "And what's the big deal anyway? You don't care what people think. People always assume you and Stan sleep together, you never tell them off… well, not anymore."

"I would've had an aneurysm a long time ago if I'd kept doing that," Kyle sighs and scratches his fingernails through his hair. Stan helped him buzz it all off on midnight of his eighteenth birthday a few weeks ago—needless to say, his mother had been less than pleased ("You are so lucky you already took your school photos, young man… what am I going to tell my sister about your graduation pictures?!").

Stan said he thought it looked good, and Kyle is more than happy to finally be rid of that goddamned fucking shitbag hair.

"Look," Butters fiddles with his fingers. "You don't have to be gay if you don't want. But it really is okay that you like boys, you know."

"I know," Kyle snaps. He's filled to the brim with tolerance, thank you. "I don't know if it's guys in general or if it's just Stan, okay? I've liked girls. Fuck, I've had girlfriends."

"So," Butters shrugs. "Doesn't mean you can't like boys too, or have a boyfriend if you wanted."

"Butters, I don't fucking know, okay?" Kyle shoots back again. "It's already fucked enough as it is having a boner for your best friend and knowing you can't do anything about it without adding all that on top of it."

"No one's sayin' it's not," Butters offers. "Figuring that part out might help, though."

"I have no fucking clue what you're talking about," Kyle says after a few moments, and Butters rolls his eyes again.

"If you like boys in general or just the one," he explains and crosses his legs on the bedspread. "You ever watched two boys before?"

"No, I haven't watched two guys before," Kyle returns, hugging his knees to his chest. "Watch them do what?"

"I don't know!" Butters exclaims. "Butt stuff? Suckin' each other off? Guy stuff."

Kyle snorts, "Sorry dude, but watching a twink beat off on my computer doesn't really do it for me."

"What about in real life?" Butters asks very simply, so normal and so nonchalant that Kyle almost doesn't catch it.

Except he does, and then he turns a deep, deep red.

"Wh—what?"

"You wanna see me naked?" Butters offers this time, and Kyle has to pause to take inventory of the terrible life decisions that have brought him to this moment.

It's not that Butters isn't attractive—Kyle knows he is. He maybe wouldn't call him handsome, like Stan, but he's cute Kyle supposes.

"Dude, that's kind of weird," he just says, but Butters shrugs.

"Not really," he hums. "Not if you don't want it to be. I've been naked in front of other people before. It's kinda fun."

"Even if I'm not naked too?" Kyle raises an eyebrow. Butters shrugs again and fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt.

"Doesn't matter to me," he concludes and then flicks his gaze up to meet Kyle's. He's got these big blue eyes—bluer than Stan's and much lighter than Kenny's—and Kyle finds himself nodding when he asks, "Is that a 'yes'?"

"Yeah," Kyle gulps. "It'd be good to know. For, y'know… things."

Excitement bubbles in his chest—when did that start?—as Butters reaches back and tugs his shirt over his head. It's been a while since Kyle has seen Butters in any state of undress, but he doesn't remember him being so…

Kyle can't think.

That's a problem.

Butters doesn't hesitate in undressing either. Like he's alone, he undoes his pants and pulls them off, tossing them into a pile with his shirt. Then he stands and, with his back to Kyle, slides out of his underwear (which have Snoopy and Woodstock from The Peanuts on them).

Butters has an absolutely fantastic ass.

It's round, and he's got these two dimples right above that Kyle wants more than anything to press his thumbs into as he thrusts into—

Oh.

oh.

"Okay," Kyle declares. "I've seen all I need to."

Butters turns around at that, and yep, Kyle is done.

He's just fucking done.

"What?" Butters asks when Kyle averts his eyes.

"Your dick is, like, a foot away from my face," Kyle explains.

"Is that a problem?" Butters prompts.

"Um," Kyle looks up at the ceiling, feeling a blush creep up the back of his neck. "Kind of the opposite."

"Oh," Butters chuckles and looks down at his hands. "Well, I-I reckon you could touch me if you really wanted."

That does get Kyle's attention. He looks up at Butters and gulps. He must be bright red now, but Butters doesn't say anything about it. Instead he walks back over to the door and locks it with a definitive click.

When he walks back, Kyle reaches out a hesitant hand and draws his fingers over the slight definition in Butters' stomach. It's exciting, though, and when Butters takes in a sharp breath it goes right to Kyle's dick.

It seems to be having the same effect on Butters, too. As Kyle's hands roam over him, Butters gets harder and harder. And not that Kyle has seen any dicks before, but he thinks Butters' might be pretty nice.

God, how is this happening right now?

"Y-y'know," Butters' voice trembles as Kyle teases his fingertips through the happy trail of thick blonde hair just below his bellybutton. "We… we could fool around."

"We could," Kyle nods and looks up at him. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy, and it makes Kyle's blood get hot. "I just… I don't know if—this kind of stuff is supposed to mean something, isn't it?"

"It can," Butters nods. "But that doesn't mean it has to. Sometimes it's nice to blow off steam… especially when you can't have who you want."

Kyle's thoughts get fuzzier, and suddenly that comes off like a very sound piece of logic. Plus, Stan always tells him he shouldn't think so much, and this seems like one of those times where he can apply that.

He pulls off his own shirt and tosses it to the side, followed quickly by his pants and shoes and socks, all in a flurry of fabric and rubber and leather that ends all too soon.

And now he's naked.

He's naked and hard with Butters just the same in front of him.

Kyle pulls Butters onto the bed and gets him into a position so that he's on top, hands on either side of Butters' head.

He kisses him, and fights the immediate urge to pull back. Brain working or not, this is still Butters, and this whole thing is kind of strange.

If he tries to imagine it's Stan below him, it kind of works, but Butters smells like… not Stan. Stan is always sweaty and musky under his deodorant and soap, and Butters doesn't smell like any of those things.

But then Butters' hand wraps around their dicks and it doesn't matter.

"Fuck," he mutters.

A salacious grin creeps up on Butters' face as he strokes, asking, "What should we do?"

"I-I don't know," Kyle stammers as Butters' hand works over them. He didn't know how he'd handle a surplus of dick, but he thinks this will work out quite nicely indeed.

"I could suck you off," Butters offers. "Or we could keep doin' this. Or you could fuck me if you really wanted. I'd like that."

"No," Kyle quickly shakes his head. "I mean—I wouldn't want to... Do-doesn't that shit hurt?"

"Yeah," Butters shrugs. Kyle seems to be enjoying this particular thing much more than Butters, even though Butters' eyelids flutter and his full lips part just slightly.

Kyle bends and kisses him again, and Butters moans softly against him.

He must like kissing or something.

"You," Butters gulps when they part, raising his eyebrows. "You wanna be on bottom?"

"Oh, hell no," Kyle sits up then, mildly affronted. "You're not putting your dick in me, fuckwit."

"That's not always what bein' on the bottom is," Butters takes to pointing out, and before Kyle knows what's happening he's on his back, pressed into the bedspread as Butters rolls their hips together. "I could just sit on your cock right now and ride you 'til you didn't remember your name."

"What?" Kyle's voice cracks. He was until just now 99-percent sure Butters didn't know half of those words.

"Or I could just do this 'til you come," Butters rolls his hips again. He pushes his floppy blonde hair off of his forehead and sits up. "You want the first?"

Kyle nods vehemently, and has to punctuate with an impatient "Yes, Jesus!" before Butters springs into action. He pulls two things out of a pocket in his jeans: a tiny tube of lube and a condom.

Kyle watches as Butters silently crawls back up onto the bed and squeezes the thick substance onto his fingers. He's never seen anyone do this before, not even in porn, and Butters is apparently the type that likes to put on a show. Flat on his back, he slides his fingers deftly inside, losing himself in his own touch. In fact, Kyle thinks that he might forget just what it is he's supposed to be doing when he grabs his dick and starts making those noises again.

"Dude!" he exclaims, and Butters returns to life here on earth. He blushes slightly, lips quirking up into a smile, and apologizes before he opens up the condom and slides it onto Kyle.

"Try not to move too much 'til I say," Butters warns as he climbs over him, and Kyle barely has time to process the request before Butters' tight heat sinks down onto him.

"Holy shit," Kyle squeezes his eyes shut. His hips twitch of their own accord, and even though he tries his best he still ends up thrusting too sharply before Butters is ready.

"God damn it," Butters whines and hangs his head. "Kyle, I said not to."

"Sorry," Kyle gulps. "I couldn't help it, sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Butters readjusts (which feels beyond amazing). "Just… don't move until I do."

It feels like forever until Kyle gets the go ahead. His body and his brain have officially severed ties: while all his body wants to do is give into its primal urges, his brain is trying its best to keep it from hurting Butters.

Butters, who is obviously not as innocent as he appears; whose ass is absolutely fantastic; whose blonde hair isn't black and whose eyes can't give him that special look.

"Okay," Butters' boyish face scrunches up as he comes up and sinks back down again.

And now Kyle's body officially takes over—it doesn't matter who he's thrusting into, it's just happening and it's a fucking relief.

Relief like scratching an old scab, or finally being able to pee after holding it for way too long. It serves a purpose, but that's all the sense Kyle's brain will make of it. This serves a purpose.

A nice purpose, and a necessary one, but it feels hollow.

Butters and Kyle move against each other, Butters trying to keep his sweat off of Kyle and Kyle trying not to go hog-wild and fuck up as hard and as fast as he can.

It takes a little while, but Kyle finally gets that familiar warmth in his gut and that token curl in his toes. "I'm close," he musters up, and Butters wordlessly grabs his hand and brings it to his dick. Kyle's body falls in line quickly and starts jerking Butters off to the haphazard rhythm of his thrusts.

Kyle comes first, bucking up so hard that Butters loses his balance and ends up nearly smacking his forehead into Kyle's nose. It takes a little longer, but Kyle gets Butters to come too. It gets all over his stomach and hand, and Butters makes a weird noise when it hits him, but Kyle is intrigued enough that he doesn't mind.

He's never made a guy come before.

He's made girls come before, but this is gratifying in a different way.

It's still unclear whether this is good or bad.

"You okay?" he finally pipes up, and Butters nods.

"Yeah," he huffs and pushes himself up and off of Kyle. "You?"

"Yeah," Kyle nods dumbly and sits up. He pulls the condom off of himself and buries it at the bottom of the trash can by the night stand.

Kyle grabs his underwear off the floor and steps back into them, getting dressed again piece by piece. "Um," he begins. "Don't tell anyone about this."

Butters sits up at that and raises his eyebrows. "Is that an order or a request?"

"A request," Kyle rolls his eyes. "No need to get yourself into a snit about it… Will you put some pants on or something?"

"Mm," Butters stretches out on the comforters. "I like bein' naked. And I think you like it too."

Kyle flips him off and sits back on the bed. A deafening silence stretches between them for a while before Butters finally arches up and rolls off the bed. "All right," he sighs, "I'll put on my clothes."

"Fuck," Kyle puts his face in his hands.

"Why so blue?" Butters asks as he tucks himself back into his underwear and pants. "Hey… Hey, what's with the tears?"

"What are you talking about?" Kyle looks up and, to his horror, feels two hot streams of water leak down his cheeks. "Holy shit, dude," he swipes and dries and tries to tip them back into his face. It's no use, though—they keep coming and Kyle can't fucking believe that this is happening now of all times.

"Aw, Kyle," Butters tuts as he pulls his shirt over his head and sits beside him. "You weren't… that wasn't your first time, was it?"

"Fuck off," Kyle snaps. "I'm not a virgin."

"Well," Butters considers. "In a way you sorta were. You'd never had sex with a boy before. It's a special thing—"

"Oh, my god, we are not having this conversation, just shut up," Kyle hunches over. He feels very sick all of a sudden.

He just had sex with Butters.

Like… Butters.

"All right," Butters pats him on the shoulder. "I got my mom's car here, you want me to take you home?"

"I'm Stan and Kenny's DD," Kyle groans.

"Nope," Butters shakes his head. "I am now. You weren't feelin' well enough to stay. C'mon, I'll have you home in no time."

Kyle looks over at Butters and, with a last swipe over his face, mops up any stray tears before he and Butters leave the room.

They don't speak on the way back to Kyle's—Kyle doesn't even think they say goodnight—and once Kyle is upstairs in his room he collapses on his bed and tries to convince himself that when he wakes up it all will have been a dream.