#colonelingus

It’s midnight on a Saturday when Butters sees an IM flash across his screen.

  “you up? i am and i could sure use a hand… since your the one i’m thinkin about anyway ;)”

  Butters flushes deep red.

  This is exactly the kind of thing people warn you about when you meet people on the internet, and normally Butters is very diligent about knowing who he’s talking to.

  Butters swallows back his nerves and types, with shaking fingers, “Jeez, buy a fella a drink first.”

  They met in a chatroom for LGBT teens. They talked and talked, even after everyone else had signed out, and exchanged their personal IMs before they both went to bed in the early, early morning.

  Butters doesn’t know when it became sexual (or why, considering that neither knows what the other looks like, apart from what they’ve told each other). He thinks it may have had something to do with Butters amusedly confessing to being told he was a sex addict when he was nine, and this guy (whose screen name is some Sci Fi reference that he’s explained to Butters about ten different times) reassured him that it was okay, that people will call anyone anything if it’s convenient.

  Butters likes this guy a lot.

  “i was thinkin about the other nite. i wish i couldve heard you cum.”

  Butters lets out a breath and shifts under his blankets. He’s getting hard already, which is just plain shameful. Other kids his age have boyfriends and girlfriends, real life flesh to grab onto and voices to listen to and scents to breathe. All Butters has is a screen name and a backlog of conversations he can peruse when he’s feeling lonely or sexually frustrated.

  Which, let’s be honest, is most of the time.

  Butters leans back into his pillows, “I wish it could’ve been your hand on me that made me come. Every time I touch myself, I pretend it’s you.”

  “my hand, my mouth… i wanna make you cum so hard you cant even remember your name.”

  Butters whimpers at the thought, but doesn’t get a chance to respond before he continues, “i wanna get you naked and fuckin worship you. id kiss your neck and your chest, and run my fingrs all over your skin until you beg me to touch you.”

  “Oh god” is all Butters manages to type back. He wriggles out of his pants and tosses his covers back, almost embarrassed at how turned on he is right now. His picture of this guy—tall, blonde, skinny—doing anything to him is usually enough to push him to a pretty hot and heavy bout of self love.

  “fuck i havent even gotten to what id do to you yet”

  “Tell me”

   Butters sits back and runs his fingertips over his erection. He gets harder under the touch, but forgoes doing much more in anticipation of what’s being typed up on the other end of this conversation. The waiting is one of the best and worst parts—best because it draws everything out, and worst because what’s being said isn’t actually being done to him.

  “you want me to touch you so bad. so i take your cock in my hand and it feels so nice i just have to taste it. i get down on my knees and run my tongue over the tip to tease you. then i take you into my mouth. your big but fuck you taste so good. i cant get enough of your cock in my mouth. i want your cum in my mouth so bad.”

  Butters is out of breath by the time his eyes finish scanning the message. His dick seems to like what he’s reading, as he’s good and hard now, with a little spot of precome leaking onto his fingers. With one hand, he replies, “What if I came on your face instead?”

  A few moments pass before he gets the response, “fuck yeah. id let you put your cum anywhere you want on me, baby.”

  Butters wraps his hand around himself now, typing getting more and more awkward as he gently strokes, “Only if you beg for it.”

  “please cum on my face. i need it.”

  Butters would be embarrassed at how quick he is to come. Choking back a moan in his throat, he coats his hand and his t-shirt, which is just great because he doesn’t need his mom on his case for that. He comes down for a moment before wiping his hand on a tissue and typing, “You look so good with my come all over your face.”

  And even if he doesn’t really know what he looks like, Butters definitely bets this guy would.

  A few moments pass before another message comes up, “goddamn i came so hard. thats how bad i want your cum on my face for real.”

  Butters is about to type out a response, but this guy beats him to it, “maybe we could meet… you said you live near Fairplay rite?”

  That’s a recipe for disaster if he ever heard it. He watches enough Investigation Discovery with his mom to know that strangers are dangerous, especially when you don’t even know their name.

  Butters must still be riding the high of his orgasm, because he types back, “Sure. I’d like that.”

  They decide to meet at Tweak Bros. tomorrow afternoon.

  Butters can’t sleep the night before. All he has to go on is what this guy has told him—tall, blonde, and thin. He spends the night staring at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, and after a while gives up and starts playing Fruit Ninja on his iPhone.

  He doesn’t get to sleep until about five in the morning. His mom comes in to wake him up for church at about seven, and he has no choice but to pretend he’s sick. He goes back to sleep, and only gets out of bed because he has to pee so badly.

  Then he sees that it’s almost noon and he falls over himself getting into the shower. He scrubs himself clean, every nook and cranny, more diligent than usual. If he’s going to meet this guy, he wants to be presentable to all the senses.

  Because this guy… he’s made Butters feel so much better about everything. He was scared when he first realized that he liked boys, but this guy helped him see past the fear. They talk about everything together, from movies they love to music they listen to, to crazy things their parents are doing while they’re chatting back and forth.

  And you know what? The sex may be cyber, but it’s about as close as he’s ever felt to another person before.

  Butters towels himself dry and steps into his clothes—a pair of yellow skinny jeans that his parents absolutely abhor and the t-shirt he’d gotten for helping organize the school’s Thanksgiving canned food drive. Not a spectacular outfit, but the shirt hugs him nicely and the jeans display what he’s been told is an impeccable bubble butt.

  After a glance in the mirror he agrees that yes, it is pretty impeccable.

  He can walk to Tweak Bros. from his house. At the moment it’s better than driving, because at least a walk will help dissipate his anxiety. He can’t help it—even if he’s not exactly how he looks in Butters’ head, meeting this guy will still be amazing.

  The shop is pretty busy for a Sunday at noon. The Tweaks experienced a boom in business a while ago, after they made the paper not for the quality of their coffee, but for the incredibly detailed chalk drawings and painted murals that Tweek makes on the side of the building and on the sidewalk out front.

  He’s there when Butters arrives, working on a giant swirl of blue and green in front of the shop.

  For a moment Butters wonders if Tweek is his tall, thin, blonde friend and suddenly he becomes very nervous.

  “H-hey, Tweek,” Butters greets, but Tweek doesn’t respond. He’s too involved in what he’s doing to even acknowledge that the world is anything but chalk and cement.

   That probably means he’s not the blonde Butters is looking for.

  He goes inside and orders a vanilla latte, not meeting Mr. Tweak’s knowing stare the entire time. Those all have this otherworldly air about them that makes Butters slightly uncomfortable, though that could just be because Butters’ parents have always warned him against oddballs like the Tweaks. 

  Then again, here he is, prepared to meet a stranger in a coffee shop. It’s entirely possible that his parents didn’t raise him right anyway.

  Butters buzzes with anticipation as he carefully inspects each and every person that comes and goes through the front door. Luckily, his latte is still too hot to nervously sip, otherwise he’d be done with it by now.

  “Hey Butters, mind if I sit with you?”

  Butters looks up and sees Kenny McCormick standing by the empty side of his booth. Tall and gangly, with tattoos climbing up his arms like ivy, Kenny is yet another one of those nefarious characters that his parents warned him against, which is really a shame since Kenny is one of the nicest people Butters knows.

  “Sure, Kenny,” he nods. “Though I-I am sorta waitin’ for someone, so I can’t chit chat for long.”

  “No worries,” Kenny sits across from him. “Truth be told, I’m waiting for someone too. Kinda nervous, didn’t want to sit by myself, you know?”

  Butters hums and finally takes a sip of his latte. It burns his tongue a little, but it prevents him from having to say anything as Kenny pushes his hood off his head and runs his fingers through his hair.

  “So,” Kenny leans back in his seat. “Who’re you meeting?” 

  “Oh,” Butters’ eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t really like discussing his personal life with people, especially his sexuality, because in a town like this, news spreads like wildfire.  He doesn’t want any of this to get back to his parents—Yvette Peterson, a girl who was friends with Stan’s sister, came out as a lesbian and the whole town knew within twenty-four hours.

  Butters refuses to be the next Yvette Peterson, who had to get her car repainted when some jackass kids scratched “DYKE” into the hood. 

  “Just a friend,” Butters finally supplies. “What about you?”

  Kenny shrugs.

  “Been chatting with this guy online forever,” he says. “He lives near here, and I wanted to meet him.”

  Butters feels all the color drain from his face.

  “Whoa,” Kenny raises an eyebrow (the one that has the piercing in it, fuck). “Are you okay?”

  “I-is your screen name UnderMyBarbarella?”

  Kenny also seems to have a moment of dizzying clarity.

  “Fuck,” he shakes his head. “Fuck me, you’re HuffleandPuffle aren’t you.”

  Hearing his own screen name said aloud makes Butters’ cheeks burn bright red, and he immediately stands.

  “Butters, wait—”

  But Kenny doesn’t get the chance to finish before Butters is out the door, stomping over a piece of Tweek’s chalk as he runs all the way home.

  ooo

  “Butters.”

  Butters doesn’t turn around.

  He goes from not really noticing Kenny to seeing him everywhere. Suddenly, he and Kenny go everywhere at the same time—school, the market, the park, he’s fucking everywhere.

  Currently, he’s behind Butters in their computer class. They’re supposed to be doing their timed typing warm up, but Kenny seems hell bent on getting Butters to pay attention to him.

  The teacher is older than any computers teacher should be, and has already started phoning it in not two months into the school year.

  “Butters, you can’t ignore me forever,” Kenny insists.

  “Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country,” Butters reads along with the text he’s typing.

  “I swear to god, Butters,” Kyle says, right beside him, fingers flying over the keys not as he types, but as he guns down Cartman across the computer lab while they play whatever game they’re playing. “Will you just talk to him? He’s been driving me insane.”

  “Kyle, will you kindly stay out of our business,” Kenny quips from behind them. “Why the fuck are you even in this class? You made an app over the summer because you were bored.”

  Kyle continues typing with one hand, just so he can flip Kenny off.

  It’s actually kind of impressive.

  “Butters, come on,” Kenny sighs. “I just want to talk to you.”

  Butters’ test times out and he turns around.

  “About what, Kenny?” he snips. “About how—“ Butters can’t even finish the sentence, not with so many other people around.

  He doesn’t want to talk about this anyway.

  It’s been a week and his insides still feel like they’re coated in tar. The heaviness in his stomach won’t go away, and every time he thinks about the things he’s said he feels this looming regret pushing down on every part of him.

  And of course he goes back and reads and rereads their conversations, except now in place of the man he’d created in his head, Butters is now doing all of those things to Kenny.

  He’s sucking Kenny’s dick—sitting on it, holding it, kissing it, loving it—and it makes Butters’ throat close up at the thought.

  Kenny is a very good-looking guy, even if he is a little rough around the edges. It’s part of his charm.

  Butters’ hand shoots up in the air. “May I use the rest room?” he asks.

  The teacher barely even nods, he’s so past the point of caring, so Butters grabs the hall pass and dashes to the boy’s bathroom just a few doors down. No one’s in there, thankfully, so he turns on the faucet as high as it will go and splashes himself with cold water.

  Now is not the time to think about how wonderful Kenny would look with Butters’ come all over his face.

  He turns off the water and braces himself on the edge of the sink, looking up at his reflection only to jump about a foot off the ground.

  Kenny’s behind him, eyebrows screwed up on his forehead as he watches Butters perform his ritual, and barely even blinks when Butters lets out a scream.

  “What the hell, Kenny?” Butters pants. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack one of these days.”

  “Sorry,” Kenny crosses his arms over his chest. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “So you stalked me into the bathroom?” Butters whips a few paper towels out of the dispenser and pats his face dry. He looks up just in time to see Kenny shutting the door and locking it behind him. “Aw jeez… you’re not gonna beat me up, are you?”

  “When have I ever beat you up, Butters?” Kenny asks, throwing his hood back down over his shoulders. He wears a denim vest over his orange jacket, one that’s littered with patches of all different kinds. In the summer he sometimes wears that and only that when he’s helping his dad fix their car.

  “I swear to god all I want to do is talk to you,” Kenny raises a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  Butters leans back against the sink and stares at the tile below their feet.

  “Talk about what?” he asks.

  “Well, about how we’ve been cyber-fucking the shit out of each other for starters,” Kenny stuffs his hands in his pockets, a wry smile on his lips.

  Butters experiences, for the first time, a simultaneous desire to both punch and kiss someone.

  “It’s not funny, Kenny,” Butters insists.

  “Come on,” Kenny chuckles. “It’s kinda funny. You know, in the small world kind of way.”

  Butters blows the hair out of his eyes and looks up at the ceiling.

  “Well, it was a mistake, obviously,” Butters sighs. “We wouldn’t have done all that if we’d known who we were talking to.”

  “No,” Kenny agrees, “But why does that make it a mistake?”

  Butters finally looks at him then, and feels a strange pull in his stomach at the sincerity he sees behind Kenny’s eyes.

  “I liked talking to you, Butters,” Kenny says. “Yeah, it was kind of weird knowing it was you at first, but… I miss you. And I’m not just saying that, I actually miss you. And I’m, like, so fucking relieved that you’re not a middle aged bald guy who brought me wine coolers.”

  Butters can’t help but laugh at that.

  “Honestly, if you’re not at least gonna spring for Pabst, you’ve got no business talking to me anyway,” Kenny grins. “Look, I guess I’m trying to say that this doesn’t ruin anything for me. All it really means is that this really awesome guy I like is closer than I thought.”

  Butters flushes bright red, and feels one of his fingernails bend back painfully where his fingertips grip the ceramic sink.

  “You… you like me?” he asks, and Kenny nods.

  “Yeah. Don’t you like me?”

  Butters nods.

  “Then why can’t we try it for real, you know?” Kenny looks down at his scuffed up boots. “I… it’s hard enough having to like guys in a town this small. If we like each other, why wouldn’t we give something a try?”

  Butters gulps and asks, “What’s something?”

  “Well,” Kenny shifts, “There was some talk of having your come on my face.”

  Butters claps his hands over his face and shakes his head.

  “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

  Kenny grins and takes a step forward, running his tongue over his lips before tentatively reaching out and taking Butters’ hand in his. Then he pulls him forward and cups his jaw in his hands, and Butters cannot breathe. His heart slams against his ribs, drumming against the inside of his ears.

  Their lips meet, and Butters seriously thinks he may pass out.

  He’s had kisses before, usually because someone will dare a poor girl to kiss him, and yes, they have been nice. He’s never gotten to kiss a boy before, though. Kenny is gentle, but it feels different than the girls.

  Maybe it’s because Kenny actually wants to kiss him.

  Or maybe it’s because when Kenny presses their bodies together, Butters can feel the heat rolling off him and the smell of cigarettes and peppermint filling his nose.

  “I wasn’t kidding,” Kenny murmurs against Butters’ lips as he pulls back. “Can I…” he swallows, turning a little pink. Butters can’t believe it—Kenny never gets embarrassed about anything. “Do you want me to touch you?” he asks, making a quick recovery.

  “Kenny,” Butters moans softly against him. “We’re in a school bathroom.”

  “Then c’mere,” Kenny pulls him back into one of the stalls, locking it and pressing Butters against the door.

  “W-we’re still in a bathroom, Ken,” Butters breathes.

  “Does that mean I can’t touch you?” Kenny asks, pausing in his fumbling with the button on Butters’ jeans. If Butters told him so, Kenny would stop.

  But even if they are in a bathroom, Butters doesn’t want Kenny to stop. So he just leans forward to kiss him again, promising, “I-I guess I’ll just have to be quiet.”

  Kenny gives him a wicked grin and goes back to working on his jeans, pressing a kiss of thanks to the corner of his mouth.

  It’s almost surreal to have Kenny’s hand wrapped around him instead of his own. His hand is rough, though the touch is gentle. His fingers are longer and skinnier than Butters’ own, and he strokes with less urgency than Butters does.

  “Dude,” Kenny laughs, “Your dick is huge.”

  Butters is pretty sure it’s about average, maybe a little on the larger side, but he still grins at the compliment and says without thinking, “Thanks, I grew it myself.”

  Kenny laughs against the flushed skin of Butters’ neck and presses a kiss just below his jaw. He kisses and sucks and scrapes his teeth over sensitive spots, and Butters has to try harder than he ever has before not to make any noises.

  Then, as if he could hear Butters’ thoughts, Kenny decides to put Butters’ self control to the test and sinks to his knees. Without a warning—just a roughish wink and a Cheshire cat grin—Kenny leans forward and wraps his lips around the head of Butters’ cock, running his tongue through the bead of precome at the very tip.

  Butters whimpers softly and smacks his head back against the cool metal door. Kenny’s mouth burns where it touches, impossibly hot and soft and sure in its ministrations.

  Whether Kenny is teasing or he’s never done this before, Butters can’t tell. He keeps licking and sucking, but never taking Butters into his mouth all the way. It would be infuriating if it didn’t excite Butters all the more.

  “Fuck, Kenny,” Butters whines, gripping his hair softly in his fingers. Kenny looks up at him, and it’s so picture perfect that Butters just wants to frame the moment—Kenny’s blue eyes big as they glance up at Butters under pale lashes, cheeks hollowed out and tinged pink, lips swollen and red. He pulls off of Butters and runs his pink tongue over his lips.

  “Do it,” he says softly. “Please.”

  Butters lets out a strangled noise as he takes himself into his hand and starts stroking in erratic, hurried movements. It only takes a few moments before his toes curl and his muscles go taut. He chokes back a sob as he comes, all over Kenny’s face and his hand.

  And Kenny looks like he’s never enjoyed anything so much in his entire life.

  Butters wants nothing more than to slide down to the ground and curl into himself, to somehow get this feeling to last forever. When he opens his eyes and sees Kenny running his tongue through the mess on his chin, he lets out a barely audible, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

  Kenny smiles up at him, splatters of come all over his face, and says, “You too.”

  “Oh, my god, are you gonna wash your face?” Butters chuckles.

  “What if I went back into computers like this,” Kenny rolls to his feet. “Do you think anyone would notice?”

  Butters shakes his head and pulls his pants back up, “Not at all.”

  Kenny lets Butters walk back to the classroom while he washes his face. Even putting one foot in front of the other seems like such a chore now, his knees are so wobbly. Once back in the classroom, no one seems to have noticed his absence… except Kyle, who glances at him with this knowing look but doesn’t say anything.

  Kenny comes back shortly after, giving Butters this giant smile that sets off butterflies in his stomach.  

  Of course, it doesn’t take too long for Butters’ brain to remember just how nice that face looked all covered in his come.

  He pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Kenny under the desk, “My place after school. Parents out til late”

  Kenny texts back quickly, “work til 6. cool if I come after?”

  Butters sends back an affirmative text and can’t think of anything else for the rest of the day. Kenny’s delay allows him to stop by the convenience store and pick up a box of condoms and, god help him, some lube.

  It’s only made worse by the fact that Craig is working the register, and gives Butters this look as he puts the items in a brown paper bag.

  “Play safe,” he just says, and goes back to reading his magazine.

  Butters knows he’s red the rest of the way home, but he can’t worry about that. Because Kenny’s going to come over, and they’re going to do… well, they’re going to do something. He runs upstairs to clean up his room, even though it’s pretty clean. He changes his sheets and makes his bed, dusts off his fan and cleans his windows.

  He works up such a sweat that he has to shower, and after he’s done with that he gets dressed in his best jeans and a nice t-shirt that hugs him nicely around his chest.

  Of course, after all that he still has about an hour of pacing left before Kenny gets to his front door.

  When he shows up, Kenny greets Butters with a smile and a single flower that looks like it was plucked out of his mom’s garden.

  “Hi there,” Kenny grins, and without hesitation Butters pulls him inside and crushes their lips together. It’s a little too hard, and Butters almost bites his lip, but it’s wonderful because Butters gets to kiss a boy.

  Not just any boy, but Kenny.

  Never in a million years would Butters have thought this could have happened.

  “Hi,” Butters finally manages when they pull back. “How was work?”

  “Okay,” Kenny chuckles. “Did you ask me over just so we could talk about work?”

  “I’m tryin’ to be hospitable, jerk,” Butters smacks him on the arm, letting out a laugh. “You want anythin’ to drink?”

  Kenny just shakes his head and pulls Butters back into another kiss, this one slower and more relaxed. Butters melts into it, breath catching in his throat as Kenny’s tongue twines around his.

  “I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Kenny admits through a smile. “I’d, like, stay up at night thinking about how amazing it would be to hold you and kiss you and you were right here.”

  Butters laughs softly and nods, because he’s thought of all of that too, wanted more than anything for that boy to be tangible and right in front of him, and here he is.

  “Well,” Butters fiddles with the string of his hoodie. “Whaddya say I pay you back for earlier?”

  An impish grin spreads across Kenny’s face and he kisses Butters again, more urgently this time. Erring on the side of caution, Butters pulls Kenny upstairs and into the quiet confines of his room. There they kiss again, and Butters manages to do away with Kenny’s top layers of clothing, leaving him in nothing but a long-sleeved Def Leppard t-shirt that looks like it’s been worn well beyond its period of use by someone much bigger than Kenny.

  “Where’d you get this?” Butters asks.

  “Thrift shopping, son,” Kenny supplies simply. “Gotta do what you can in our house.”

  He pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside, quickly doing the same for Butters. He never quite noticed, since Kenny’s clothes always hang so loose on him, that he’s a little thicker than Kenny.

  Kenny doesn’t seem to mind, just runs his hands over Butters’ sides and starts to kiss his neck, revisiting all the spots he hit before and then some. Butters mirrors him, but being that he’s never quite done this before, it’s all rushing by at such a dizzying pace that he can’t quite get a grip on it.

  But he doesn’t want Kenny to stop. He wants to keep going, to please Kenny and make him feel better than he ever has before.

  “You okay?” Kenny asks. He knows Butters has never done this too—one of the perils of getting to know someone under internet anonymity is that they often get to know more about you than you would ever tell anyone you had to meet with face to face.

  “Yeah,” Butters nods. “Just… keep goin’?”

  Kenny nods back, “Should we get on the bed?”

  Butters doesn’t reply, just pulls him over to the nicely made bed and sits them both down. Kenny takes it a step further, though, and presses Butters back into the comforter. Butters’ senses light up and his hairs stand on end, a fire roaring inside him as Kenny’s mouth moves down his chest and to his nipples.

  He lets Kenny touch him, knowing full well that he should probably be doing something too, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what. When Kenny moves to pull off his pants though, he does stop him.

  “Get yours off too,” he says. “I-I don’t wanna be the only naked one.”

  Kenny laughs and without even the slightest protest shucks his pants and underwear (if indeed he was even wearing any) all in one go.

  He’s more beautiful than Butters could have imagined, all limbs and skin and bones, sure, but he decorates what body he has with gorgeous works of art. Butters plans on getting to know each tattoo intimately, but all that in good time. What he’s really interested in is Kenny’s erection, standing proud, pierced three times under the head, and flushed that deep red that makes Butters salivate.

  “Wow,” is all he manages. “Ca-can I touch it?”

  “Please,” Kenny chuckles, and moves so he’s pressed back into Butters’ pillows, ready and waiting.

  Nerves roll back and forth in Butters’ stomach, but if he’s already come this far he may as well go for it. He takes Kenny’s cock in hand and gives him a firm tug.

  “Ah!” Kenny squirms. “Not so hard, dude. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Oh,” Butters bites his lip. “S-sorry.”

  “It’s all right, just… take it easy.”

  Butters nods back and tries again, stroking more gently this time. His nerves are almost impossible to stamp out, even though Kenny reassures him that he’s doing just fine and that it all feels so good.

  “Kenny?” Butters asks.

  “Yeah?” Kenny sighs, tilting his head back and giving a content smile.

  “Can we—I-I want you to, um…” he gulps. He hadn’t really thought about how to say this. “Can we fuck? Like really do it.”

  Kenny cracks open an eye and sits up, retaining remarkable composure as Butters’ hand moves over him, “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” Butters nods. “I-I trust you, a-and we do it all the time over chat. I know what goes on.”

  “Yeah, but that’s—ah, god—that’s on the com…” he gulps. “Computer, Butters. It’s not the same in real life.”

  “I know,” Butters looks down at where Kenny’s cock pokes in and out of his fist. “But I want you inside me. I’ve wanted it for real for so long, and now you’re here. Please?”

  Kenny’s cheeks go pink once again, and he says, “Do you even have condoms or lube or anything like that?”

  Butters nods and, abandoning his post, grabs the paper bag out of his top desk drawer. Kenny peers inside and looks up at him, “You really want this?”

  Butters nods again.

  “Okay, then,” Kenny shrugs. “C’mere, let’s get you set up.”

  Butters gets on the bed, erection bobbing an balls weighing heavy between his legs. He gets on his hands and knees, as Kenny has instructed his cyber self to do so many times before, and gives a happy sigh when Kenny presses a kiss to either of his cheeks.

  “All right, let’s see—ah, shit,” Kenny hops off the bed. Butters looks over and sees a slick of lube running down Kenny’s leg, and a giant spot on the comforter.

  “Aw, Kenny,” Butters whines.

  “It’s all right, dude,” Kenny reassures him. “Just a little bottle mishap, no big deal. I got this.”

  Somehow, it doesn’t make Butters feel any better.

  Kenny takes his place behind Butters once again, swiping his leg clean and coating his fingers. He spreads Butters open and presses a cool, wet finger against him.

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah, please,” Butters presses back, and carefully, Kenny pushes his finger inside.

  It’s such an odd sensation. Butters has always been too chicken to try it on himself, but knowing it’s Kenny makes it a little better. Kenny is nice and gentle and will take care of him, even if he’s never actually slept with a boy before.

  He has slept with girls though, and Butters figures experience, no matter where you get it, is bound to be useful.

  “Feel okay?” Kenny asks. Butters keens and pushes back, swallowing Kenny’s digit deep inside him. He loves it so much more than he should, knowing that some little part of Kenny has now been inside of him.

  He works methodically, reaching around to stroke Butters every so often and kiss him in strangely intimate places, and soon he’s pressing another finger inside. He works in a similar fashion, slower now that Butters can feel the stretch.

  When he presses against Butters’ prostate, all Butters can do is grab a pillow and whine into it. He never though anything could feel so good, and even though he knows he’s rushing, he turns and begs Kenny, “Please, I want you inside me.”

  “It’s gonna hurt,” Kenny warns. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” Butters moans. “I’m real tough, honest! God I just want your cock, Kenny, please.”

  Kenny replies only by adding a third finger, and Butters yelps, smushing his face against his pillow.

  “Jerk,” he mutters.

  “Dude, be patient,” Kenny hums. “It’s all good.”

  Butters shifts uncomfortably as Kenny opens him up even more, panting and writhing and occasionally whimpering when Kenny presses into his prostate again.

  When Kenny feels like he’s been stretched enough, he pulls out his fingers and grabs the box of condoms.

  “You still sure you want this?” he asks.

  “Yes,” Butters nods. He hears foil tear and the slick sound of rubber and lube on skin.

  “You tell me if you want to stop, you promise?”

  Butters nods, and gets a stab of excitement when he feels the blunt heat of Kenny’s cock pressing up against him.

  Except then he starts pressing inside and wow, there is no way that anything can hurt this much, right?

  “You okay?” Kenny breathes. “You’re really fuckin’ tight.”

  “I’m fine,” Butters insists. “Just keep goin’.”

  Kenny follows Butters’ instructions, though he does stop every time Butters gasps to ask if he’s okay. By the time he’s all the way in, Butters thinks there might be tears in his eyes, but at least Kenny can’t see them.

  Because even if it hurts, Butters wouldn’t want Kenny to pull out of him for anything right now. Kenny is as close to him as another person’s ever been, and he wants it to stay that way. He takes a few moments to gather his composure before he tells Kenny he’s allowed to move, and sure enough Kenny takes the invitation.

  A little overzealous at first, he thrusts a little too sharply and Butters almost actually does tell him to stop.

  “Shit, I’m sorry,” Kenny pants. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re just so fucking tight, I couldn’t—fuck. Okay, I’m good now. Sorry.”

  He starts moving again, more gently this time, but still with every move Butters feels like he’s being split open. He wonders if girls ever feel this way too, if it goes away and gets better the more he does it, because as much as he likes having Kenny inside him, it’s starting to feel like a little more trouble than it’s worth.

  “Hang on,” Kenny pauses. The sound of a cap clicking, and then the cool slide of lube around his entrance, and suddenly Kenny’s moves aren’t so hard to take.

  They’re actually kind of nice.

  “Goddamn,” Kenny rests his head between Butters’ shoulder blades. “You’re so fucking amazing, dude. I’m so glad I get to do this with you.”

  He reaches down then and takes Butters into his hand, and Butters is a little embarrassed that he’s gone so soft.

  Even with Kenny touching him, he still doesn’t get back to full hardness before Kenny’s hips start slamming erratically and he holds Butters close. It’s sticky and hot and sweaty being pressed together like that, but Kenny’s kissing him and telling him how gorgeous he is, so it’s not all bad.

  Still, as soon as Kenny pulls out he’s stuck with half an erection and a sore butt.

  “Here,” Kenny nudges his shoulder and gets him to turn over. Before Butters can even ask what he’s doing, his head is between Butters’ legs, taking his cock into his mouth for the second time that day.

  And even if he gags a few times and has to hold Butters’ hips down to keep from getting choked, it’s still sort of perfect, because Kenny is Kenny, and he likes to make Butters feel good.

  When Butters comes this time, Kenny catches it all in his mouth and swallows it down, which he seems to like much more than Butters ever would have suspected.

  He watches, baffled, as Kenny rolls off the bed and discards the condom in the bottom of his trash can. Even if he wanted to, Butters can’t find it in himself to move. Instead he sinks back into his bed sheets, not caring that they’re all tangled and stained with lube. Ecstasy courses through him as Kenny comes back to the bed and slides up right beside him, pressing kisses into his sweaty, flushed skin.

  “You okay with this?” Kenny asks. “Like, me holding you and everything?”

  Butters nods and settles into his arms. As their breathing evens out, Butters regains his wits. His parents will probably be home soon, and as much as he’d like to shout it from the mountain tops, they probably shouldn’t know about him and Kenny just yet.

  He can let this go on for just a little bit, though.

  “Hey, Butters?”

  Butters hums in response, shifting so that he can look at Kenny.

  “I’m glad it was you,” Kenny says.

"You're back in the country?" Kenny said when Butters pulled away, grinning. "Seems so!" Butter said. Kenny wasn't sure if that was some kind of comment on how stupid his question was; clearly Butters was in the country, he was right fucking here. "I been back for a few years, in fact. What a great day! Can you believe it? Stan and Kyle, after all this time." "Well, yeah, but. They've been together -- I think they've lived together for like, fifteen years. Anyway, um. How are you?" Before Butters could answer, a door open behind them. Kenny turned to see Kyle sticking his face out into the hallway, looking displeased. Kenny could guess why: it was a humid day in June and Kyle's hair looked awful, his obvious attempts to tame it with products only adding to the mess. "What are you two doing?" Kyle asked. "Get in here." He spoke as if they were errant members of his bridal party, though from what Kenny understood, there would be no bridal party, just two grooms exchanging vows. Kyle's room was essentially unchanged, which surprised Kenny, who hadn't been in it since he was twenty or so. He would have taken Sheila for the type to change the room into an office or generic guest room as soon as Kyle was settled in his first apartment, but except for Kyle's old posters and a fresh coat of paint, it was just as Kenny remembered it: the twin bed under the window, the desk and old Mac computer near the door, grayish carpet and navy blue curtains with red trim. Kenny remembered those mostly because they'd always made him think of the hat Stan had worn every winter as a kid. "I don't know about all this," Kyle said. He walked to the bed and fell to a seat there, tucking his hands under his arm pits. Kenny shared a look with Butters that felt like old times. It was like, what now? and this again, though Kenny didn't see much of Kyle or Stan anymore, and Butters -- well, maybe he did. Kenny didn't really know what Butters' deal was at present. "All of what?" Kenny asked. "This wedding." Kyle made a face. "It seems so corny. Or so, so -- like we're serving the man, you know? Like it means something to us, personally, to be recognized by the fucking state of Colorado. I don't care what these yokels think of me. If it were up to me we would have moved away years ago!" He was working himself into a panic, but fortunately someone had left a mostly untouched bottle of champagne open on Kyle's desk. Kenny went for it, and grabbed a nearby glass with a translucent lip print which he assumed was Kyle's. He poured some and brought it to the bed. "It'll be nice," Butters said. "And, um, it's not about the state! It's about, well. Stan! And you. It's a celebration of, uh-- lasting love! Love in the face of adversity, and so forth." "I just don't want to get up in front of everyone and tell them how I feel about him," Kyle said, accepting the champagne. "It's so incredibly personal, me and him -- you guys think you understand the depth of our connection, okay, but you don't, and talk is cheap. Vows, I mean. That's -- beneath us." He drank. "Stan wants this, though," Kenny said. Stan had called him just hours after Kyle had accepted his proposal, to tell him the good news. He'd sounded tearful at moments. "He likes this sort of thing." "What sort of thing?" Kyle made that face again. "Remember your bar mitzvah?" Butters said, stepping forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Kenny. "How you were all grumpy about it and didn't want to do it because you had a big pimple on the end of your nose?" "Thank you for reminding me," Kyle said, touching his hair. "But Stan made you that scrapbook about your friendship as a present, remember?" Kenny said, beginning to see where Butters was going with this. "He was so, like, impressed with the idea of your manhood." Kenny had kissed Butters at Kyle's bar mitzvah, too, in a very quiet bathroom at the back of the reception hall. Remembering that, he faltered for a moment. "Um, you know. Also, all your guests are already here." "Ugh, guests," Kyle said. "A few people Stan works with, my parents, Ike -- Ike thinks this is hilarious, you know. He got married when he was nineteen." "That's not necessarily something to brag about," Kenny said. He'd been married twice, once at twenty-two and again at twenty-six. Both had ended before the two-year mark. The first was a woman, the second was a man. They both accused him of being aloof and suspected him of affairs that he wasn't actually having. "Why do I have to complicate everything?" Kyle asked, holding the glass out for more champagne. He always did this: complained about something and then turned his dissatisfaction around on himself. "Why can't I just enjoy a nice party? Oh, but it feels so -- atonal! It's not me! I don't do this sort of thing. And it's so fucking hot." He touched his hair again. "When's the last time it was this hot in June?" "Maybe you could move the ceremony inside?" Butters said. Kyle grunted dismissively. "I wonder if Stan is throwing up," he said. "I hope not," Kenny said. "Want us to go check on him?" "I guess so," Kyle said. "But someone should be with me. Shouldn't they? Is Wendy here? Send her up if she is. We need to have a chat." "About what?" Kenny asked. "My hair," Kyle said, miserably, and Kenny smiled, not to mock Kyle's grief over his frizz but because he was relieved not to hear that Kyle was going to have some grave discussion about Stan with Wendy, who had been Stan's only other love, early on. Kenny headed downstairs with Butters, and he stopped Butters on the landing before he could head in the direction of Gerald's office, where Kyle believed Stan was hiding from the guests. Butters' look of confusion melted away quickly, and he gave Kenny that same sweet, forgiving smile that had always made his face get hot. "Hey," Kenny said. "Hi!" Butters said, and then he looked confused again. "You okay?" "Marriage makes me a little itchy. You may have heard about my divorces." "Oh." Butters' cheeks went pink. Kenny used to love that. He used to be able to whisper the word cock in Butters' ear and get this exact reaction, plus a hardon. He'd been so -- pliable. "Well, yeah, I guess I did hear about that. I'm really sorry about that, Kenny. It's a sad circumstance." "How about you?" Kenny asked. He reached down to took Butters' left hand, checking for rings. Butters' blush had intensified when Kenny looked at him again. "Nobody?"

"There's been – 'bodies," Butters said, and he frowned. "I mean, folks. People. Just not now, no – I didn't bring a date."

"Me either," Kenny said, and then he felt badly, because maybe that was innuendo. He started down the stairs, and Butters followed.

Stan was indeed in Gerald's office, with Wendy, who was holding his hand when Kenny and Butters came through the door. Stan looked handsome in a pressed shirt and tie, nice slacks, his suit jacket slung over his arm. He was more Sharon than Randy, at least in his facial features, not feminine, but he had her kind eyes and open expressions, everything unguarded even when he was in his most cynical moods. Especially then, maybe. He moved away from Wendy and hugged Kenny, then Butters, more awkwardly.

"Are you okay?" Kenny asked, squeezing Stan's shoulder. He glanced at Wendy.

"I'm fine," Stan said. "I just feel like shit."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Why should you feel that way?" Butters asked, and he seemed sincerely wounded, horrified that someone might feel like shit on their wedding day. Kenny wondered if he'd ever been married, and he thought: probably not.

"He's feeling guilty that he didn't host some extravagant wedding that would have cost him a fortune," Wendy said before Stan could answer. "Which is so ridiculous. Kyle would have hated that."

"He likes picking out menus, though," Stan said, sounding almost as if he would cry. "And this is so. This house, I don't know. It's not romantic."

"How about your first kiss, though?" Butters said.

"Which I never knew about," Kenny said. He supposed it was only fair; he'd never told Stan or Kyle about any of his firsts with Butters.

"Oh, that." Stan blinked rapidly and fooled with his tie. "Yeah, it was – we tried to justify this, uh, venue with that. Kyle bit me, though."

"When?" Kenny asked, unable to contain a laugh. Stan gave him a hard look.

"When we kissed. Thirty years ago. It's a long story. Shit, is he okay?"

"He wants Wendy," Butters said. "To fix his hair."

"You've got your work cut out for you," Kenny said when Wendy looked exasperated in response.

"I'm a doctor," she said. "Not a hairstylist."

"Just go," Stan said, and he put his hand on her back. "Please? I would go, but he's being weird and superstitious about not seeing me before the ceremony. And I've never been good with his hair."

"He asked for your help with it in the past?" Kenny said, charmed by this.

"Not exactly," Stan said. "But sometimes I shampoo it wrong."

Wendy left, and Kenny hoped Butters would stay. He was glad when Butters did, and not because he didn't want to be alone with Stan, who had always been more like a brother to him than Kevin ever had. Kyle was something else – a brother-in-law, Kenny supposed.

"Don't worry about it," Kenny said when he sat beside Stan, who was perched on Gerald's desk. "You guys are gonna have a great trip, right? You're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Stan said, and he winced. "But it's flooded."

"What's flooded?"

"Germany. Don't you watch the news?"

"You guys are going to Germany?" Butters said, sitting on the other side of Stan.

"We're supposed to, and then Italy. But now Germany's flooded – the part we were supposed to go to, where Kyle's relatives live. It was going to be this big deal."

"Italy's better, anyway," Kenny said, though he'd never been to either country. He'd been to Russia, once, with his ex-husband, on a foolhardy trip to visit orphanages in search of a child to adopt. It was more or less the end of that marriage.

"We were going to take the train down through Switzerland," Stan said. "Kyle loves trains."

"I'm sure the trains are still running!" Butters said. "And maybe, ah. The floodwaters will go down. Tomorrow."

"I don't know why I'm being like this," Stan said, and Kenny thought of Kyle's similar lamentation. "I mean, we've already spent half our lives together. More than half, if you count childhood. Which I do."

"Tell me about that kiss," Kenny said. "When you were fifteen. Unless you're going to talk about it in your vows?"

"Oh, God, no, it's not in the vows. Okay, um – it was this night right after sophomore year had started. I'd come over to work on this presentation me and Kyle were doing for history, about the IRA. Things were sort of tense. We walked outside – it was just starting to get cold at night, early October. He was so – he kept chewing his lip, like he used to do, and it was all raw-looking and red, and puffy..." Stan trailed off, and nipped at his own bottom lip a little. "I lunged at him. You remember how I was, I wasn't good at anything to do with – sex, at first. Until Kyle, I should say. But yeah, he bit me."

"Bit you?" Kenny asked, laughing again. Stan whacked his shoulder.

"He was scared! I was like a wild animal, he said. Suddenly trying to kiss him."

"Oh, Jesus. I bet you were all shaky and stuttering and on the verge of tears."

"Well – yeah, but he didn't know that. It was dark."

"So then what? He bit you. Did you cry?"

"No."

Kenny could see that he was lying. Stan glared at him.

"It wasn't crying, okay, my eyes watered from the pain. My lip was bleeding! And then Kyle freaked out and apologized and started kissing me all over, and he sucked on my lip – oh, Jesus. I can't even talk about it without getting, uh. Aroused."

"Ew," Kenny said. "Alright, well. Thanks for telling us."

"That's so romantic," Butters said breathlessly, his hands clutched under his chin.

Sharon came in soon after that, greeted Kenny and Butters warmly, then politely suggested that they find a seat outside. Kenny took Butters' arm on the way out of the office, without meaning to, and when Butters smiled at him, he held it.

"Remember our first kiss?" Kenny asked, keeping his voice low. People were squeezing past them through the hallway, getting drink refills and shouting about some crab balls that needed to come out of the oven. Kenny didn't recognize most of the people who were still bustling around. He thought of Cartman and was sad that he couldn't be there. He'd died one year too soon to mock Kyle on his wedding day.

"Sure I remember," Butters said, softly. They'd come to the patio door that looked out on the backyard, where maybe forty people were assembled in a variety of lawn chairs, everyone facing Bebe. She was decked out in her judge's robes – district court in rural Colorado, small potatoes according to Kyle, but still impressive for someone her age.

"I'm sorry if I – maybe you should have bitten me?" Kenny looked at Butters, genuinely fearful about how he would answer. In hindsight, Kenny had often cornered him, had kissed Butters' hot cheeks so greedily. Butters was looking wide-eyed and innocent even now, staring at him.

"Gosh, Kenny," he said, almost whispering. "I would never bite you."

"Thanks, Butters." He moved his hand to the small of Butters' back and guided him to a seat that way, toward the back, on the right side; Kenny wasn't sure if it was Stan's side or Kyle's. By then, everything in their lives had mixed inextricably together.

Stan took his place near Bebe, and Kyle walked down the grassy aisle – strewn with some white flower petals – to the tune of some old Vampire Weekend song that Kenny only vaguely remembered from college. Kyle carried no flowers, and therefore seemed not to know what to do with his hands. Twice he pulled at the hem of his jacket, and Kenny could see that Stan wanted to run to him, that he was barely restraining himself from rescuing Kyle from his embarrassment.

The ceremony was nice, maybe; Kenny couldn't really pay attention. He was thinking about his own history of childhood romance, which he'd written off upon graduation. Butters was practice, sweet and forgiving and warm under his hands, but how ridiculous would it have been to contemplate an actual future with the boy from across the tracks, the good side of town, the house with the alphabetized pantry? They couldn't have been more different, and anyway, there could only be one Stan and Kyle in South Park. People didn't meet their soul mate as a pre-schooler in the same town where that precise phenomenon happened to their closest friends. If they'd tried to tell themselves that maybe they had, under the basketball bleachers between Algebra II and Contemporary Lit, after midnight with the window still cracked open a little in the dead of winter, in case a quick escape was needed, or in a reception hall bathroom that smelled like chalky soap – well, that was just a case of emulating one's heroes, unavoidably pathetic and doomed to disappointment. Kenny looked over at Butters when Kyle kissed Stan. Kyle was murmuring against Stan's lips as he did, probably making a joke about biting him. Butters noticed Kenny's gaze and turned, smiling uncertainly.

"Where do you live now?" Kenny asked, not bothering to whisper, because everyone was clapping.

"In Denver," Butters said. He batted his eyelashes – unintentionally, Kenny knew. Butters had always done that when he was nervous, even when he was four years old.

"I'm in Colorado Springs," Kenny said. "Bartending," he added, maybe a little defensively. Dying on occasion and disappearing for a while made it hard to keep a job.

"I know," Butters said.

"You know?"

"I look at your Facebook page sometimes."

"Oh. Yeah, me too. I mean, yours. But it's been a while. I thought you were still in Honduras."

"Maybe I oughta be," Butters said. He was still clapping, turning to watch Kyle and Stan walk back down the aisle, toward the house. Where would they go? Up to Kyle's twin bed for victory sex? "I don't know why I came back, really. I guess we were doing good work there. I started to wonder, I guess."

"I'm sure you were doing good work," Kenny said. He touched Butters' shoulder, wanted to keep touching him in various places. Though his hair was thinner, receding, it still looked baby soft. "Do you think I'm aloof?" he asked as the guests began to mill around in confusion, Sheila bustling into the house and shouting to someone about appetizers.

"Aloof?" Butters frowned, then Kenny saw recognition rearrange his features. "Oh, um, well. Sometimes it was hard to know what you were thinking."

"When we were kids, you mean?"

"Well, sure. That's the only time I knew you!"

"What did you, uh. Think I was – thinking?"

Butters shrugged and smiled hard, in a way that seemed to pinch the corners of his eyes uncomfortably. "We were having fun!" he said. "I still remember it – such fun." His eyes changed. Kenny leaned in, not sure what was happening – Stan must not have known either, thirty years ago, in this yard – and he expected to be bitten.

Butters didn't bite. He kissed back in careful little pushes: a polite, public kiss. The chastity of it only reminded Kenny more strongly of the way Butters used to fall apart under his mouth, drooling and moaning and surging up against him for more. He felt himself blushing. Butters smiled up at him, eyelashes fluttering.

"I'm glad you came back," Kenny said.

"I hoped you would be," Butters said, his voice a little trembling thing all of a sudden. Kenny kissed him harder, for that, and no one seemed to notice: they were streaming toward the house, following the bellow of Sheila's promise that hot food was being set out, and Ike would be serving drinks.

Kenny looked up at Kyle's bedroom window when he headed toward the house, Butters tucked under his arm and laughing absently, like a kid who had a great secret, the same way he had when they were teenagers, when they did have a great secret. There was no one looking down from Kyle's window, but the blue and red curtains were shifting in an incriminating way. They were long enough to skim the bed, tangled up in whatever was going on, having hung around long enough to know the beginning, rapturous at the sight of the official consummation.

"I might be drunk," Kenny said, though he'd only had one glass of champagne while they waited for the grooms to emerge.

"You can stay with me," Butters said, looking up at him.