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“We’re still on to study tomorrow, right Stan?”
Stan hums a small ‘mhm’ of agreement, shutting his locker to turn back to the voice behind him. Around him, the bustling hallway of his high school, and the many students itching to leave as soon as possible. Slinging his plain bag, with only a few random patches sewn on by himself and his friends to give it some personality, he turned around. There stood Kyle Broflovski, Stan’s best friend and current infatuation.
“Good, because you definitely need the extra review time.” Stan lets out a huff, rolling his eyes playfully at his friend and giving him a small shove to the side. Kyle smiles, beginning to walk toward the school exit. Stan follows closely behind, thankful for the end of the week… and the promise of spending the day with the very boy that has been invading his mind for the past year or so.
-
It was never any secret that when Stan fell for somebody, he fell hard. It started with Wendy Testaburger back in 6th grade, in which Stan had finally gotten the guts to ask her out, her agreeing enthusiastically. Thus began their tumultuous relationship, which lasted all throughout middle school, and ended for a final time in the start of the summer before freshman year. However, there was an uncountable amount of times in which they’d broken up during those years, whether it be from Wendy’s annoyance with Stan’s habit of spending more time with his friends than her, or Wendy’s tendency to kiss boys behind the school cafeteria on lunch breaks. Even with all the wrongdoings the two placed on each other, they’d always end up crawling back to one another.
Stan was undoubtedly incapable of saying no to the people he loved. No matter how many times Kyle had told him to just let Wendy go, or Kenny encouraged him to come with him to parties to find someone else to dote all his broken lovesick inclinations on, he never did. Even at the end, when Wendy finally broke up with Stan once and for all, he still begged for her to take him back. By then, though, Wendy had fully moved on, going out with Tolkien Black, swearing up and down that she was through with any other side relationships to the guy. Despite Stan’s overbearing amount of hatred toward Tolkien for being the finalizing factor for his relationship with Wendy ending, he couldn’t help but feel bad for him anyway. Felt bad that he would end up being the new Stan Marsh, a victim to the whims of Wendy Testaburger’s love.
-
“What time do you want to come over tomorrow?” Stan asked, brushing a loose hair from his face as the two walked, turning onto their street. He looked over to Kyle, who was staring up at the cloudy gray sky above them, an expression written on his face that Stan had grown to know well as a face Kyle only made when he had a lot on his mind.
“I might come over around lunchtime. Didn’t you say your parents would be out this weekend?”
“Yeah,” Stan sighs, kicking a stray rock in his path. “My dad wanted to go into Denver to try and sell more weed. My mom’s going with because she doesn’t trust he won’t get himself killed.”
Kyle gave a short breath of laughter at the comment. Stan ached to hear a sound like it again.
“As for Shelley, she said earlier that she was spending the weekend at a friend’s house. So we get the whole house to ourselves, no annoying parents or bitchy sisters to distract us from studying.”
-
Freshman year of Stan’s life was spent wallowing in his own feelings over losing Wendy. He briefly hung out with the goth kids, where he learned the art of being so pessimistic over everything in his life, that nothing could ever disappoint him anymore. Eventually he got over it, Kyle’s frequent arguments about how “pathetically cynical” he is pulling him out of the phase. However, he continued to use his newfound skills all the way through high school. So when his parents split temporarily, he couldn’t help but not care in the slightest. And when they eventually got back together, effectively forcing Stan to deal with their fighting once again, he couldn’t help but tell himself he knew it was too good to be true.
By sophomore year, Stan was finally over Wendy Testaburger- at least that’s what he convinced himself of. He joined the swim team, making himself what was considered to be a popular kid in the school doing so. However, even with the newfound popularity he found himself with, he continued to stay friends with Kyle, Kenny and Cartman. Sophomore year was a time of experimentation for high schooler Stan Marsh. He started going to more parties, finally taking Kenny up on his offer of meeting new people at them. And it was at a school get-together hosted by some kid Stan had never heard of, under the flashing colors and haze of weed and alcohol, that Stan kissed his first boy. Tall and dark haired, with a name that Stan hadn’t even bothered to try and learn, and soft lips that for only an instant, reminded Stan of Wendy’s.
Stan never forgot that boy. The blur of the drugs and booze at the party distorting his reality of that mystery kiss, the identity of the person remaining unknown to this day. There was one day he traveled in the halls of the school, a few days after the party, and out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn that he’d seen the same face of that boy. But the memory was too hazy, and Stan found he would never truly discover who that boy was. There was a part of Stan that laid awake at night, wondering if he would’ve loved him in another world, a world where he had just remembered the boy’s name. A world in which he’d taken that person by the hand, and didn’t let go. Stan wonders if just a kiss is what it takes to make him fall in love.
-
“I’ll see you tomorrow then dude.” Kyle said as the two stopped in front of his house. Stan hummed out an agreement, watching his best friend climb up the steps to his home and disappear inside the house. Stan lingered for just a moment, before turning to his own empty home across the street, sighing lightly as he walked up the steps, locked the door, and collapsed on the living room couch, preparing for an intense evening of doing nothing but scroll through mind-numbing social media posts and flip through TV channels mindlessly.
He didn’t move when the sun began to set, shades of orange and purple flooding through the blinds, and coloring the normally dreary living room. He didn’t move when his stomach growled, pleading for food that Stan would never make. He didn’t move when it got too dark to see the buttons of the remote, opting to use his phone light instead. He didn’t even move when the clock struck midnight, and the TV began to play old nauseating telenovelas that Stan used to watch with his mother as a child in that very room. He fell asleep to the unintelligible voices on the staticky screen, and overbearing weight of exhaustion.
-
After his first kiss with another man, Stan started realizing he may not be as straight as he originally thought. Suddenly even the smallest things about guys seemed enticing, as if that kiss unlocked a whole new world of feelings to pile on to all the emotions Stan already experienced. For a while, Stan wondered if he was gay this entire time. But even with his newfound enjoyment in people of the same gender, he still found himself occasionally checking out a girl’s ass as he walked down the street, or noticing his eyes drawn to the chest of particularly developed girls in his grade. The confusion is what ultimately led him to confide in his friend, Kenny.
Kenny McCormick was often seen as somewhat of a whore throughout high school. Stan frequently heard stories of the many adventures his close friend got up to on the weekends and at night, under the cover of darkness and tangled sheets. Kenny was always popular with the girls and guys, and what he lacked in income and physical object ownership, he made up for in appearance and personality. He was always very good with his words, the skill of flirting came easily to Kenny, and Stan honestly couldn’t remember the last time the blond didn’t get what he wanted. He seemed to just have a certain charm about him that made every muse he connected with head over heels and willing to do his bidding, no matter how outlandish. Stan wished he was half as confident as Kenny was.
Stan knew Kenny wasn’t straight, he’d heard enough tales about Kenny’s addiction to blowing guys in the parking lot of Walmart to know that. But he also knew Kenny loved to get it on with women just as much as he did with men, and Kenny never outwardly talked about his sexuality with their friends to give himself a label. Stan figured if anyone knew what was going on with his feelings, it would be Kenny.
“I like who I like, I fuck who I fuck, and what they’ve got going on in their pants doesn’t change a thing for me.” Was all Kenny said in reply when Stan asked about it all.
That conversation confirmed that Stanley was indeed bisexual. It was also how he received his first blowjob from a man.
–
Stan woke up groggily to the loud noise of banging on his front door, groaning as he brought the palms of his hands to his eyes.
“Hey! Get your ass up dude!”
Blindly pulling himself up from the comforting warmth of the couch, Stan stumbles to the front door, opening it to the sight of that fiery red hair he knows so well, and viridescent eyes staring back, unamused.
“It’s 11am and you’re still sleeping dude? And why were you on the couch?”
Before Stan even attempts to answer the barrage of questions, Kyle pushes past Stan, heading into the house and toward the kitchen. Stan follows behind, slamming the front door back closed and confused as to what his best friend is doing.
“You said you’d be here at 12. I must’ve passed out on the couch last night accidentally watching TV or something.” Stan yawned, leaning on the umber wood of the doorframe leading into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“Making food,” Kyle simply said, rummaging through Stan’s fridge and settling on eggs to take out and cook. “And I said I’d be here around lunchtime, not 12.”
“Same thing.”
The taller boy only stared in silence as he watched his friend continue to work on making eggs, silently taking in the sight as if it was the first time he’d ever seen Kyle before. Stan had been finding himself staring at his best friend like this more and more often. He relished in Kyle’s company, the miniscule touches they gave each other, just the presence of his friend in general. Sometimes he found himself daydreaming in Kyle’s company, imagining what it’d be like to touch him in a way that wasn’t affectionate punches and side hugs between friends. When Kyle isn’t looking, he’ll challenge himself to memorize five new aspects of his friend that he hadn’t noticed before. The lone couple freckles Kyle has on his cheekbones, the specks of hazel in his mostly green eyes, that one curl of hair that falls over his right eye, perfectly in place. It’s not like Kyle hasn’t caught Stan staring before, because he has, but there’s always an excuse. He was staring into space, he was tired, he noticed something on Kyle’s face. Kyle never really pressed on it, shrugging and continuing on as if nothing happened. But he always noticed. Kind of like right now.
“You’re staring again.” Kyle’s voice snapped Stan out of his daze, watching as a plate is placed in front of him with scrambled eggs, the only type of eggs he’ll eat. But, as he watches Kyle sit down across from him, he notices there’s no secondary plate for him. It’s then that he remembers Kyle hates scrambled eggs.
“What are you eating?”
“I already ate,” Kyle says nonchalantly. “But I knew you wouldn’t have eaten by the time I came over. You never do.”
Stan only stares down at the plate, silent at the amount of thought Kyle seems to put into every action he takes.
“Go on, eat.”
–
There was a brief period of time in which Stan convinced himself he was in love with Kenny. After their conversation, and intimacy they shared, Stan couldn’t figure a way to forget about it. His mind replayed Kenny’s words in his head on a loop, his touch, his face. It drove him wild, and what made the entire experience so much worse was that he knew Kenny did not feel the same way.
Everything was normal afterwards. Stan hated it. He didn’t understand how Kenny could so casually act as if nothing happened, as if his entire mouth wasn't on Stan’s body just the day before. Kenny came into class the next morning, dropping his backpack on the floor, giving the same toothy smile he did to Stan like any other day. There was no difference, no change in expression, no nothing. For a couple days, Stan found it hard to look Kenny in the eyes. It wasn’t like he hated what they did, in fact, it was completely the opposite. He loved it. So much so that it broke his heart the next time he’d heard about Kenny’s adventure with a girl on the soccer team a week later.
He knew it wasn’t meant to last, he knew it was just a friend helping out a friend, but even then he just couldn’t seem to let it go. Stan didn’t get over it. Not until his attention finally turned to one last person in his junior year, a person he had least expected to develop feelings for in the midst of all the chaos. Kyle Broflovski.
–
“Come on, do we really have to start studying right away dude?”
Kyle huffed, rolling his eyes at his best friend, who was currently flopped on his bed.
“We should. It has to get done eventually, you can’t escape it man.” Kyle said, hands on his hips in a way that almost reminded Stan of the way his mother looks when scolding his father.
“Let’s watch some TV or something first, it’s only like, 1 o’clock,” Stan reasoned, scooting over to one side of the bed so Kyle could sit down with him. “We have time, we can study tomorrow too, remember? Stop being so scholarly for once, nerd.”
Stan heard that familiar sigh, before watching as Kyle sat down with him, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them. The taller boy ached to move closer.
“Fine. But only for a bit. Then we really have to study.”
Stan only smiled in response, flicking on the TV.
–
It hit Stanley Marsh like a freight train when he realized he was in love with his best friend.
And it couldn’t have happened at a more terrible moment.
July, the summer before Stan’s junior year in high school began, his grandfather died. It wasn’t much of a shock, and the entire family had known it was coming, but it didn’t change the amount of grief the family went through. Stan wished he could’ve said he really cared more, but the truth was, he had only spoken to his grandfather a handful of times, most of them being muddled and inconsistent conversations, as a result of the dementia his grandpa had suffered from. Stan was never called the right name, never remembered, and always expected to love his grandfather anyway.
The death was the real reason his parents got back together. He couldn’t have given less of a fuck. Despite all the other shit going on though, his parents were merciful enough to allow him to bring one friend to the funeral. And, of course, Stan chose to bring Kyle.
It was a somber event, with only close friends and family showing. Despite a loose dress code of wearing black, Stan decided to wear his favorite hat, red and blue and slightly frayed after years of being worn throughout the cold winter. When Kyle showed, he only wore black. No hat on his head (which was relatively uncommon for him, even all the way in 11th grade) and a solemn look in his eye at the circumstances. He gave Stan a comforting hug upon arrival, along with the typical words of condolence that people tend to speak at events like these. Throughout the funeral, Stan did his best to remain expressionless. The family couldn’t afford things like a casket and such, so there was no casket at all, only a picture of his grandfather, sitting in the same chair Stan had seen him in every time he visited, giving the camera a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Stan tried to look at it as little as possible while people shared their memories of his grandfather. Though Stan didn’t know his grandfather as well as some of these other people did, hearing the stories of his grandfather before his dementia had an effect on him anyway. Watching his mother step up in front of everyone and sob over her dead father, that was hard. And before Stan knew it, he could feel the tears prickle in his eyes, threatening to spill over without warning. As if Kyle just knew, he reached down, taking Stan’s hand in his own.
Stan couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop feeling the weight of Kyle’s hand in his own, couldn’t forget the way their shoulders leaned against one another, couldn’t stop imagining Kyle’s face, his curly red hair, his hazel-freckled eyes. The epiphany came to him that night, laying awake and staring at the dull ceiling above him.
Stan Marsh was in love with his best friend. And there was nothing he could do about it.
–
Stan only noticed Kyle had fallen asleep when he felt the weight of his friend’s head, slumped over and resting on his shoulder. Only around 30 minutes of watching TV had passed, but it seemed like that was enough to put Kyle to sleep. Stan questioned the amount of rest his friend got last night. The intimacy of the situation suddenly rose however, when Kyle slightly turned, and his head dropped on Stan’s chest instead.
Stan’s breath hitched, looking down at sleeping Kyle on him, unsure of what to do next. To avoid his gradually panicking heart from beating faster, he turned his attention back to the TV rather than Kyle, doing his best not to move and accidentally wake the redhead. A few torturous minutes pass as Stan continues to keep his focus directed on the TV (definitely not the boy asleep on top of him). However, apparently luck is not on his side today as Kyle moves once again, this time throwing his leg between Stan’s, moving his arm to wrap around Stan’s torso as well, lightly grabbing a fistful of Stan’s shirt.
Stan gasps again, freezing up at the movement, face flushing at the position in which he finds himself with Kyle. He stares down at Kyle’s face, which is still peaceful and blissfully unaware of how close he is to his best friend, not to mention where his leg lies in the moment. A million thoughts run through Stan’s mind in the moment, a big portion of them being sexually related. The other fraction being how guilty he felt for thinking such things while his best friend sleeps undisturbed. There’s a part of him that never wants the moment to end. There’s another part that wishes he’d never invited Kyle over in the first place.
The dark haired boy stays frozen, completely unable to even keep his attention on the TV anymore, the weight of Kyle’s leg resting between his thighs too powerful to stop thinking about. Kyle breathes in a deep sigh, and Stan can’t tell if he’s in heaven or hell. Maybe both.
Stan ultimately decides he is absolutely in hell when Kyle moves his leg again, this time higher up. It grazes Stan’s crotch and he lets out a small sound, slapping his hand over his mouth too late. Kyle stirs, lifting his head slightly, making a small ‘mm’ noise as he looks up hazily at Stan. Stan doesn’t move an inch, silently praying Kyle will fall back asleep, but the boy doesn’t. Instead he moves again, looking Stan directly in the eyes and unknowingly moving his leg against Stan yet again. Stan lets out another noise, a mix between a gasp and a moan, as if he’s trying to keep himself quiet but failing miserably at it. Kyle doesn’t break the stare as he utters his next words,
“Are you… hard right now?”
Kyle is only inches away from Stan’s face, so close that he can feel the small breaths of the redhead against his lips. Stan doesn’t answer, the only sound being his heavy breaths as he hears Kyle speak. He can’t bring himself to move as he feels Kyle grope his arm downwards, grazing the outside of his shorts softly.
“Shit,” Stan rasps out at the touch, sucking his breath in between his teeth.
“Oh my god,” Kyle whispers. “You are.”
And with that, Kyle grasps Stan through his pants harshly, leaving Stan to groan loudly and shut his eyes quickly, breaking the previous eye contact the two shared.
There’s a pause, before Kyle suddenly pulls away, rolling away and sitting up swiftly, as if just realizing his actions.
“Shit, Stan, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Kyle began, avoiding eye contact as he rambles. Stan stays silent, still in shock from what happened just moments before.
“Oh god, you probably hate me now. I don’t know why I did that, jesus, I’m such an idiot.”
Kyle continues to talk, stumbling over his words in a frantic rush to apologize and explain himself. Stan sits up suddenly, causing Kyle to fall silent, looking back at Stan in fear. Kyle silently prepares himself to get hit, or pushed off the bed by Stan, but the contact never happens.
When Kyle opens his eyes again, Stan is staring at him, unmoving. The drawn out silence makes Kyle more antsy with every passing second, tortured by the lack of a reaction from his best friend.
“Stan, if you hate me now-”
Kyle is cut off abruptly by the unexpected feeling of lips crashing into his. The taste and smell of Stan floods his senses and he breathes in sharply through his nose, eyes wide. A moment passes before Stan pulls away, panting. Kyle stares back in awe at his best friend, before he grabs Stan by the collar of his shirt, bringing his lips back to meet his own roughly. Kyle feels the small ‘mmph’ from Stan, and he leans in farther, turning to move closer to Stan. He feels Stan rest his hand on his waist, Kyle returning the touch by inching even closer, practically in Stan’s lap by now.
A few minutes pass as the two quietly make out, indulging in each other’s taste, breathing each other in. By now Kyle is fully in Stan’s lap, his hand still grasping at Stan’s shirt, the other hand in his hair, tugging lightly at the black strands. Eventually, Kyle breaks away from Stan, much to both of their disappointment. Before Stan can even speak though, Kyle beats him to it.
“Take off your shirt.”
Stan decides not to waste a second more time, clumsily pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side, watching in awe as Kyle mimics his actions, pulling his own shirt off and dropping it in the same spot Stan did with his own. Stan has seen Kyle without a shirt before plenty of times, but this is different. This time he’s allowed to touch, allowed to trace every divot, every mole and mark. Kyle doesn’t pause again, pulling Stan’s lips back to connect with his own, as he begins to slightly add the rest of his body with the action, grinding just a subtle bit against Stan, who responds with a cross between a gasp and a moan.
“Wait,” Stan groans, looking up at Kyle. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean-”
Kyle once again cuts Stan off, but not with his mouth this time. Instead, with his hand, shoving it down the taller boy’s pants, between the shorts and his boxers.
“I’m sure.” Kyle says lowly, a certain edge to his voice that Stan could only identify as desperation. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”
Kyle kisses Stan again, this time with even more desire as he moves to palm against Stan’s hard on through his boxers, the small moans emitting from Stan only fueling him farther. This goes on for a short while, Kyle drinking in the beauty of Stan’s moans, playing with him more and more as they continue on. Finally, Kyle decides he can’t wait any longer, and takes Stan out of his boxers completely, feeling Stan shudder against his lips at his hard on being freed.
Before Stan can properly process what’s going on, Kyle climbs off his lap, leaning down so he’s face to face with Stan’s hard and leaking cock.
“God,” Kyle mutters, “So fucking pretty.”
Stan whines at the words, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. He’s briefly reminded of the time Kenny gave him a blowjob just like this, in the same position Kyle is in, staring at his dick like a piece of meat he can’t wait to get his mouth on. This is different though. With Kenny, it was fast paced and full of unattached sexual desire from Kenny to just have something in his mouth, no matter who. But Kyle, he’s been waiting for this. He wants to take his time and explore every little bit of Stanley, learn all the ways to break him down and put him back together. He wants to hear Stan scream.
Kyle sticks his tongue out to lick Stan’s pink tip, hearing the other boy draw a sharp breath at the feeling. Stan is unaware of this, but Kyle has in fact experimented with other boys before. He rarely discussed his own sex life, far more uncomfortable with talking about it so openly as opposed to Kenny and Cartman, who talked about their experiences as if they were discussing video games or their weekend plans. It’s not that he was afraid to discuss it, he just wasn’t the type to talk about such personal things so casually. So when Kyle gave his first handjob to a random guy he met at one of Tolkien Black’s parties, or sucked a dick for the first time, it was never discussed. It happened, and then it was over. No point in dwelling on it further. But Stan seems to pick up on the fact that Kyle knows his way around a cock, when he starts sucking on the tip, licking up the pale and veined base, delicately stroking the lower areas of Stan’s dick that he hasn’t quite focused his mouth on yet.
“Jesus, dude, how are you so good at this?” Stan groans, throwing his head back. Kyle hums against his cock, sending shocks up through Stan’s body, and simply says,
“Practice.”
That’s when Stan is taken off guard by the sudden warm, constricting feeling of Kyle’s mouth downing his length.
He moans loudly, tangling a hand in Kyle’s curly hair and focusing as much as he can on preventing himself from bucking up into the tight heat of his throat. Stan had forgotten how unbelievably amazing a person’s mouth could feel on him. Kyle continues on like this for an unknown amount of time, with Stan moaning every time his cock is devoured completely by Kyle’s throat, feeling himself grown closer by the second. It is only when Stan starts whimpering, throwing out broken sentences and occasionally Kyle’s name, that Kyle stops, popping off of him with only a string of saliva connecting Kyle’s mouth to the tip of Stan’s dick.
“Fuck- why’d you stop?” Stan whines, collapsing back down on his elbows at the sudden loss of pleasure, so close to the edge.
“Didn’t want you to come too early,” Kyle says, crawling back up to kiss Stan again, tweaking at one of his nipples to make the dark-haired boy gasp. “Do you have lube anywhere?”
“Mmm, in my nightstand drawer,” Stan fumbled out, overcome with the feeling of Kyle on him, all over him. The taste of himself lingers on his tongue, unexpectedly hotter than he’d thought it’d be. He watches through hooded eyes as Kyle climbs off him again, reaching for the drawer to dig through the messy contents for what he’s searching for.
“I don’t know how you can find anything in here, it’s such a disaster,” Kyle huffed, earning a slight lopsided smile from Stan, who only stares at the other boy. As soon as Kyle locates the small bottle, he turns back to Stan. “Take off your pants, Stanley.”
Stan shivers at the usage of his full name, quickly sitting up to pull the remaining clothes he has on off, staring without shame as Kyle does the same, exposing his equally hard cock. Stan breathes out, moving toward Kyle without thinking to grasp the hard length without warning. Kyle moans for the first time, and it’s as if Stan heard the most beautiful sound in the world. He jerks his hand a couple more times, the small noises emitting from Kyle’s throat ringing in his ears and bouncing around in his mind, to be remembered at a later date. Before he can really get into rhythm with the way he’s jerking Kyle off, Kyle moves his hand away, straddling Stan’s hips again.
“Do you want me to fuck you, or do you want to fuck me?” Kyle says breathlessly, as if Stan’s hand knocked the wind out of him previously.
Stan pauses, unsure of what to answer at first. Eventually though, he comes to a decision on what he truly wants.
“Fuck me,” He whispers to the redhead above him. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Jesus, fuck, ok.”
As Stan moves to lean against the few pillows his bed contains, Kyle moves down, settling himself back between Stan’s legs, but not for his dick this time. Popping the lid of the lube bottle open, Kyle pours a generous amount onto his fingers, spreading the liquid on them with his thumb.
“Have you…ever done this before?” Kyle asks, spreading Stan’s ass apart to get a better view, letting out a silent huff of air at the image of Stan’s tight, eager hole, that one specific mole on the underside of his thigh, the way his hand is filled with the warm flesh before him.
“No…I haven’t.” Stan says meekly, face red from the sight of Kyle using his hand to see his ass better. “Have you?”
Kyle hesitates on telling the truth or not, wondering if it might put Stan off that he’s done this all before.
“I…have.”
“Oh. Ok.”
“Does that make you mad? Do you want me to stop?” Kyle looks up nervously at Stan’s reaction.
“No, no. Honestly, it makes me feel a little bit better. I know you’re not going to hurt me or anything.”
Kyle breathes out a sigh of relief, then turns back to the task at hand.
“I’d never hurt you if I could help it, Stan. I want you to enjoy this.”
Stan smiles at the comment, feeling his original nervousness die away a bit more.
“I know, Ky.”
The nickname makes Kyle momentarily freeze, but quickly resume with what he intends to do before Stan can notice. The two both simultaneously take a deep breath in, and Kyle enters his first finger into Stan.
Kyle hears the harsh breath Stan takes in at the feeling, and he pauses for a moment, before pushing the finger down to the base of his hand.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” Stan groans at the unexpected feeling. “Just keep going, I’m alright.”
Kyle hums as a response, beginning to work the first finger in and out of Stan’s hole slowly, gradually picking up speed as he goes. Then, when Stan is ready, he enters a second finger.
“Fuck.” Stan moans out, having gotten past the weird, uncomfortable phase of being fingered for the first time, and now entering the pleasurable phase instead.
Kyle keeps up with his pace, fucking his two fingers in and out of Stan’s ass, searching for that certain spot to make Stan moan especially loud. He waits a few more minutes before he can’t resist any longer, stuffing a third finger into Stan, mesmerized by the way he stretches around Kyle’s fingers.
“God…Kyle, I-” Stan lets out a sharp cry as Kyle’s fingers dip in a specific way, hitting the most sensitive spot inside him hard. “I need, fuck, I need-”
“Need what?”
Kyle doesn’t let up on his pace, continuing to hit Stan’s prostate with every push of his hand inside him, other hand gripping the soft flesh of Stan’s thigh to keep himself grounded. The blue eyed boy wantonly cries out again, generating louder and louder noises every time Kyle’s fingers find themselves against his sweet spot again.
“I said,” Kyle roughly thrusts his fingers deep inside Stan’s stretched hole. “Need what, Stanley?”
“Need it,” Stan sobs, feeling the familiar sting of tears emerge in his eyes. “Need you, need your cock- need it so bad Ky.”
Kyle growls at the nickname, quickly pulling his fingers from Stan. He hears a whine from the other boy, shaking at the sudden loss of stimulation. Kyle wastes no time, pulling Stan back up by his hair to look in the eye, then kiss harshly. Stan follows along, dizzy from the ability to taste himself on the redhead’s tongue. Only a moment passes before Kyle breaks away, uncapping the lube once again to use, spreading the solution on himself. Stan takes the moment to move himself onto his stomach instead, giving himself the option to bury his face into the pillows when necessary. Kyle doesn’t comment on the change of position, instead admiring the way Stan’s ass looks like this. He takes a hand to one of Stan’s cheeks, pulling it aside to get another good look at his hole, which is red, pulsing, and unbelievably appealing for Kyle to use at he pleases.
“You ready?” Kyle asks, running a comforting hand up Stan’s side, feeling his body shudder at the touch.
It’s only when Kyle hears Stan’s broken voice utter a ‘yes’ that he finally pushes himself inside. The two boys moan in tandem, Stan whining at the stretch of Kyle’s cock, and Kyle at how much warmer and tighter Stan was than what he expected. Kyle pauses for a moment once he’s slid his dick in to the base, giving both of them a moment to breathe.
“So fucking tight,” Kyle murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on not cumming within five seconds to entering his best friend.
Stan moans at the words, feeling himself grow impatient at the lack of movement, instead choosing to bring his hips forward and then backward, effectively fucking himself on Kyle’s cock. He hears Kyle gasp at the feeling, then grip Stan’s hips tighter, digging his nails deeper into the flesh. Stan doesn’t get a moment to prepare himself before Kyle slides himself out most of the way, only to slam himself back into Stan’s hole roughly, beginning to pick up a rhythm after that point. Stan cries out once again, only able to grab fistfuls of the sheets beneath him, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood at the feeling.
“Shit, Ky, ‘s so fucking good, oh my god,” Stan babbles, knuckles white at how hard he’s grasping the soft comforter. “Wanted this for so long, wanted you inside me.”
“Yeah?” Kyle speeds up at the words. “You’re - god - you’re just a whore, Stanley.”
“I am, I’m a whore, I’m your whore, all yours Ky, fuck.”
For a short period of time all that can be heard are the overlapping moans from both boys, the slaps of Kyle’s hips meeting Stan’s ass echoing through the room. Suddenly, Kyle accelerates, slamming into Stan recklessly, earning choked shouts from the taller boy.
“Gonna cum, gonna cum right inside your slutty hole, right inside you,” Kyle rambles, stumbling over his words, reaching down to grasp at Stan’s dick, desperate to bring him with. Stan doesn’t answer, only crying louder at the overwhelming feeling of everything.
“Love you, fuck, I love you.”
Kyle’s hips stutter and Stan can feel the sensation of his cum spilling into Stan, heating his insides and dragging him to his own climax, as he cums all over Kyle’s hand and the sheets underneath him. They both lapse into silence as Kyle hunches over Stan, both of them gasping for air. A beat passes before Kyle moves, gingerly easing himself out from the warm contents of Stan’s ass, watching as his cum leaks out after. The urge to lick it up is too overbearing to resist, and Kyle bends over to lightly lick at Stan’s ass, drawing yet another strangled whine from Stan’s chest, leaning back into his tongue. The moment only lasts a second before Kyle collapses down next to Stan, who rolls onto his back and into the welcoming arms of his best friend…who probably shouldn’t be considered just his best friend anymore.
“You…love me?” Stan unexpectedly asks, feeling Kyle stiffen next to him at the realization of what he’d moaned out in the heat of the moment.
“Oh fuck, Stan, I’m sorry-” Kyle is cut off by what must be the millionth kiss of the afternoon.
“I love you too.” Kyle hears from the taller boy after they separate once again, blinking dumbly at the confession. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I never thought you felt the same. So I never said anything.”
“Jesus, dude.” Kyle drops his head down, sighing at the stupidity of the situation. “I thought you didn’t love me . I’ve been hung up on you since, like, sophomore year. God, I feel like an idiot right now.”
Stan laughs, looking up toward the same ceiling he had stared at during so many sleepless nights of feeling unlovable and hopeless, wishing for someone to care for him the same way he’d cared about them. He looks back to Kyle, who returns the eye contact, a questioning look on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Stan replies, locking his fingers with Kyle’s, closing his eyes.
“I’m just happy.”