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There was a lot about their relationship that was strange. Probably, it was the only way Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski could even function as a couple. Too much history, too much dirt, too many mutual insults for it all to just disappear under the influence of hormones. Their connection had always been a battlefield; they just fought on the same side now... or on top of each other.
Today, Kyle was angry.
He tried not to show it while they had dinner, while Eric, as usual, chewed his pizza with an expression like he'd just won the lottery. Kyle clenched his teeth, watching Cartman smile, replaying the scene from half an hour ago in his head.
That stupid delivery guy. A hipster with a dumb little beard and a tattoo on his arm. Eric, opening the door in his favorite stretched-out "Raggie" t-shirt. And that smile. Not the poisonous one Cartman saved for his enemies, but another one — relaxed, almost friendly. Eric made a joke about the rain, the guy laughed. Laughed! Kyle, standing in the hallway watching the scene, felt that old, familiar anger boiling up inside him. The kind that used to make him yell and throw punches. Now, it had taken a different, colder form.
"Hey, Broflovski, you're gonna burst a blood vessel," Cartman commented, shoving the last piece of crust into his mouth. "Relax your Jew ass. It was just pizza."
Kyle didn't answer. He just looked at Eric with a long, heavy stare that, for some reason, made Cartman's mouth go dry.
"Go to the bedroom," Kyle said quietly, getting up from the table. "Take everything off and wait."
Cartman choked. The jokes were over. He knew that tone perfectly. It wasn't the voice of Kyle-the-whiner; it was the voice of Kyle-the-commander. The one that appeared rarely, but always made Eric feel both humiliated and strangely excited.
"Listen, is this about that jerk?" Eric tried to sneer, but his voice wavered. "He was just…"
"Bedroom, Eric," Kyle interrupted, taking a step toward him. "I won't repeat myself."
Cartman snorted, rolled his eyes, but stood up. Everything inside him tightened into a knot. He hated it when Kyle pushed him around like this, but that hate always went hand-in-hand with something else. With anticipation. After all, in their game, everyone had a role. And sometimes, it felt so good to stop being the biggest asshole in the room and just become someone's thing.
---
In the bedroom, only the dim light from the desk lamp was on. Kyle entered a couple of minutes later, holding a small box. Eric stood in the middle of the room, as ordered, having discarded his clothes on the floor. He tried to look defiant, sticking out his substantial belly and smirking crookedly.
"Well, I'm here. So what's next, your plan is to bore me to death?"
"Turn around," Kyle commanded, ignoring his words. "Hands on the headboard."
There was no anger in his voice, the kind Eric had expected. There was an icy, frightening determination. Cartman snorted but obeyed. He pressed his palms against the cool wood, feeling his back tense. He heard Kyle open the box, and a second later, the leather of the cuffs touched his wrists. Click. Another one. Eric tugged, testing their strength. Solid. His heart beat faster.
"Seriously, Kyle? Over me grinning at a pizza guy?" he asked, trying to turn his head, but Kyle's strong hand clamped onto the back of his neck, pressing his face against the cool wood.
"Shut up," Kyle breathed into his ear, and that hot whisper sent a shiver down Eric's spine. "You know the rules. You provoke — I punish. Tonight, you crossed the line."
"I didn't do anything!" Cartman protested, but his voice cracked as Kyle ran a hand down his broad back, scratching lightly with his nails.
"You smiled. At him." Kyle spoke slowly, drilling each word in. "You were nice. You were... fucking nice to some random asshole. You belong to me. Everything you do, your whole lousy, lying, fat carcass — it's mine. And you let someone else see that smile?"
Kyle's hand slid lower, grabbing Eric's ass cheek with such force that he yelped more from surprise than pain.
"Do you have any idea what I felt watching that?"
Kyle leaned down and angrily bit Eric's shoulder, leaving a wet mark. Cartman flinched, but the cuffs wouldn't let him move away.
"That hurts," he hissed, but there was more than just pain in the hiss.
"Good," Kyle cut him off. "You're supposed to feel it. Every time you look at someone else, you should feel the pain here." He slapped his ass, leaving a red mark. "And here." Another slap, harder. Eric jerked, exhaling loudly. "Because this is the only place I can get through to you."
Kyle straightened up, admiring the sight before him: Eric, chained to his bed, flinching at every touch. The power was intoxicating, mixing with jealousy and desire.
"And now," his voice dropped lower, almost gentle, which scared Eric even more. "You're going to stand here and take it. You're going to feel used, because you're mine. And only I decide when you can smile, come, or breathe. Do you understand?"
Cartman was silent, his fingers gripping the wooden slat. His body burned, his cock had been hard for a while, pressing against the cool air of the room, humiliation mixing with animal lust. He hated it. He loved it.
"I asked, do you understand, Eric?" Kyle squeezed the back of his neck again, applying slight pressure.
"Yes," Cartman exhaled, and the word came out like a hoarse moan.
"Yes, who?"
"Yes... sir," Eric whispered, feeling everything inside him flip at the word.
Kyle grunted with satisfaction. The jealousy hadn't gone anywhere, but now it had an outlet. He ran his hand down Cartman's back, soothingly stroking the reddened skin.
"That's it. Now freeze. The night's just starting, and I'm not done beating that stupid habit of being nice to strangers out of you yet."
Silence fell in the room, broken only by Cartman's heavy breathing and the rustle of the clothes Kyle wasn't in a hurry to take off. The game had begun. And this time, Kyle Broflovski was determined to win it by an absolute knockout.
Kyle wasn't in a hurry. He wanted to drag out this pleasure — watching Eric, that perpetually screaming, arrogant turkey, stand there chained and waiting obediently. Kyle circled him, looking him over as if assessing him.
"You know what your problem is, Cartman?" he asked lazily, running a finger down Eric's spine, making him flinch. "You always think you're the smartest, the cleverest. That you can get anything you want."
"I do get it," Eric rasped, his forehead pressed against the headboard. "I got you, for example."
Kyle smirked and slapped his ass with all his strength. The sound was loud, sharp. Eric jerked and hissed, a bright pink mark rising on his skin.
"Got me?" Kyle repeated coldly. "You don't get anything. I'm the one who has you. In every sense. And tonight, you're really going to understand that."
He walked over to the nightstand and opened the box he'd brought again. Eric squinted, trying to see what Kyle was pulling out, but his angle was bad. His heart beat faster in anticipation, a mix of fear and excitement.
Kyle returned. In his hands were a thin leather belt, folded in half, and a small bottle of lube. Eric swallowed.
"Count," Kyle ordered shortly.
"What?" Eric didn't understand.
"You're going to count. Every stroke. If you lose count, we start over."
"Kyle, for fuck's sake—"
A sharp whistle cut through the air, and the belt seared the sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. Eric howled and jerked so hard the bed creaked in protest.
"One," he exhaled through his teeth.
"Good boy," Kyle praised in a tone that made Eric want to both kill him and come simultaneously. "Let's continue."
The second strike landed a bit higher, almost brushing his balls. Eric groaned, clenching his fingers into fists.
"Two..."
"Louder."
"Two, goddammit!"
The belt kept falling. Kyle methodically, with cold cruelty, worked over Eric's thighs and ass, leaving bright stripes on his pale skin. Cartman yelled, cursed, pleaded, but never asked him to stop. Because in between the strikes, Kyle would run his palm over the burning skin, almost gently, and whisper: "You're mine. Only mine." And that spread such a hot, thick warmth inside him that Eric was ready to endure more.
"...Ten," Eric breathed out when Kyle stopped. He was shaking, his breath hitched, tears pricked at his eyes, but his cock was rock hard, leaking pre-cum.
Kyle tossed the belt aside and stepped closer, pressing his chest against Eric's punished back. He ran his nose along his sweaty neck, nipped at his earlobe.
"Look at yourself," he whispered. "All red, in tears, shaking. And yet you want me so bad you'd fuck this bed."
Eric just moaned in response, weakly shaking his head.
Kyle unsnapped the cuffs.
"On the bed. On your stomach."
Eric collapsed onto the cool sheets with a relief that lasted exactly one second. Kyle immediately loomed over him, spread his legs with his knee, and generously poured lube onto his fingers.
"Relax," he commanded, and the first finger entered Eric without warning, roughly, making him cry out into the pillow.
"Kyle, fuck, that hurts!"
"Take it," Kyle cut him off, moving his finger inside, stretching the tight muscles. "You asked for this. Wanted me to pay attention to you? Wanted me to show you how much I need you? Here it is."
He added a second finger, spreading him wider, finding that spot that made Eric arch his back and start babbling incoherently. Kyle pressed it again and again until Cartman started pushing back against his hand, forgetting the pain.
"That's better," Kyle smirked. "Now you want it. You dirty little fatass."
"Shut up," Eric breathed. "Just... just do it already."
"Ah, begging?" Kyle pulled his fingers out, drawing a disappointed groan. "Well, since you're asking..."
He flipped Eric onto his back, threw his legs over his shoulders, pressing his knees almost to Cartman's chest. Eric opened his hazy eyes and looked up at Kyle — pitiful, aroused, red from the belt marks and tears. Kyle froze for a moment, struck by the sight.
"You're so beautiful when you stop being an asshole," he said, almost gently.
"Just fuck me already, Broflovski," Eric rasped. "Or I'll change my mind and do it myself."
Kyle laughed and thrust into him sharply, all the way. Eric gasped, dug his nails into Kyle's back, cried out — whether from pain or pleasure. Kyle didn't let him recover, immediately starting to move — deep, hard, almost cruel, pounding into the yielding body again and again.
"Do... you... understand... now?" he exhaled in time with his thrusts. "Never... look... at anyone else... again."
"Yes!" Eric screamed, losing touch with reality. "Yes, Kyle, yes, fuck, only you, only you!"
Kyle leaned down and crushed their lips together in a hard, possessive kiss, at the same time squeezing Eric's throat — not choking, just reminding him of the boundary. Eric gasped into the kiss, coming on his own stomach, and that feeling — the pulsing inside, the clenching around Kyle's cock — finished Kyle too. He buried his face in Cartman's neck, with a groan coming deep and hard inside him.
For a few minutes they lay there, trying to catch their breath. Kyle was the first to recover; he carefully pulled out and collapsed beside him. The room smelled like sex and sweat.
Eric broke the silence first. He turned his head, looked at Kyle with hazy, tired eyes, and suddenly smiled — his usual, crooked, cocky smile.
"You know, Broflovski..." His voice was gone; he had to clear his throat. "If you want to fuck me senseless out of jealousy, you don't even need to find a reason. Just say so."
Kyle snorted and rolled his eyes, but his hand reached out on its own to stroke Eric's sweaty forehead.
"Asshole."
"Your asshole," Cartman corrected, squinting contentedly at the touch.
"Mine," Kyle, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "And no one else's. Sleep."
"Bossy," Eric grumbled, but his eyes were already closing.
Kyle watched him fall asleep — broken, satisfied, and completely belonging to him. The jealousy had finally released its grip, replaced by a dull, possessive calm. Tomorrow they'd fight again, argue, and annoy the hell out of each other. But tonight, Eric knew his place. Right next to him.