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‘Yeah, you like how Abraham trusted in the one true God?!’
Oh what the fuck.
He could not be serious.
As if Kyle wasn’t convinced enough that Cartman was doing all this to fuck with him, here he was in his house having loud, absurdly Jewish sex with his ‘wife’.
Kyle tried to cover his ears with his pillow, as if that was remotely effective. The sounds were only vaguely muffled but he could still hear their moans loud as day. Why did he have to be goddamn loud?
Cartman continues with his stupid fucking dirty talk and Kyle can’t explain the odd feeling in his chest while hearing that, it must be discomfort cause who the hell would want to hear this?!
The concept of Cartman having a Jewish wife was fucking ridiculous. After all those goddamn years of ripping on Kyle for being Jewish? He’s suddenly what, into it? Oh please, spare him the bullshit. What would even be so special about this Jewish woman that it awakened this in him, huh? He grits his teeth.
‘Yeah! Oh- oh yeah!’ He hears Yentl enthusiastically respond.
A jolt of disgust goes through him as he unwillingly visualises what’s happening. He lets go of his futile attempt to muffle the sounds he could still hear loud and clear. Maybe if he shut his eyes hard enough he could block it out.
Unfortunately this makes his imagination a lot more vivid.
He couldn’t help but imagine what position they might be in. Was Cartman looking her in the goddamn eyes while they- no, it sounded too rough for that. He probably had her bent over, maybe his hand on her back to steady her, or maybe his hand was gripping on her curly red hair-
…
Why the hell was he thinking about that?! God fucking damn it! He considered getting up right now and telling them to shut the hell up to get him out of this hell, but before he could bring himself to another sound kept him frozen in place.
Cartman’s grunts continue to bleed through the walls, ‘You’re so righteously fucking Jewish-‘
“Mmph--“ He slams his right palm over his mouth, what the hell was that noise he just made? Why did he imagine Cartman saying that to him instead? He could feel his face grow redder and his heart pounding in humiliation. A weird, fucked up fluke, obviously.
Even so he couldn’t quite let go of the iron grip he had over his mouth, eyes still shut and the sound of Cartman and Yentl’s noises permeated his mind. He repeated the thought that it was a fluke over and over again but it got increasingly harder when he kept having to muffle his own sounds. And to his horror, that wasn’t the only thing getting increasingly harder.
This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening. He maintained this denial as his hand that wasn’t covering his mouth drifted lower on his body under the waistband in his pants.
“Shit, shit, shit,” He murmurs, trying not to move his hand further. This was just a.. just a f.. ‘Yeah, you like that?’ …fuck it.
He lets his hand wrap around his cock when Yentl makes another noise. God, why the fuck does he wish that was him? Kyle wants to erase that thought so bad but- “Mngh-!” His hips jerk into his hand at the thought of watching whatever the fuck they were doing in there, in his own goddamn house. Watching Yentl get what he could not.
His grip over his mouth loosens when he can’t focus on anything else but the jerk of his hand on his dick, God, fuck, “Eric-“ he moans at almost the same time as Yentl which makes him wince as much as it turns him on, fuuuck.
He wished it were him but it was her. Her being bent over by Cartman, her being railed into next week, her being gripped by her curly, brunette goddamn hair and the thought doesn’t make this any less goddamn hot. Fuck he was a pervert.
Judging by their moans they were close and so was he, as if he wasn’t humiliated enough, of course he didn’t last half as long as Eric fucking Cartman just by imagining it.
Hopeless moans spill out of his mouth before he jolts as he comes all over his goddamn hand, staining his boxers in the process, “Fuck-!” He was panting like a bitch. A hot wave of shame washes over him. ‘What the fuck’ was the only phrase ringing in his mind now.
They were quiet now. They must have finished. He’d feel grateful if it was overpowered by the shame, humiliation and shock at what the hell he just did.
He runs his right hand over his face. Shit, shit he wished that was him so bad, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he feel a lump in his throat and tears pricking at his eyes? He tries to swallow it down but can’t help himself from letting the tears stream down his face.
Wait, were they going for another round?