Chapter Text
Everyone says they're gay for still spending the night at each other's houses even though they're sophomores in high school, but everyone says they're gay anyway, and Stan is willing to risk his reputation for the comfort of sleeping not only in the same room but in the same bed with Kyle. They've done it for as long as they can remember, and as far as Stan knows, their parents might have put them in the same crib as infants. That's how natural it feels to look across the pillow and see Kyle, and one of Stan's earliest memories is of their parents separating them as toddlers because he'd pushed his hand up under Kyle's shirt while they were sleeping. Stan's mother had calmly tried to explain that "friends don't touch each other like that" while his father had a shit fit, and Kyle's mother undid the efforts of Stan's parents when she ranted later that it was "perfectly natural."
Even at sixteen, a lot of things that most guys their age would never consider doing with a friend feel perfectly natural for the two of them. They just won't let themselves do any of these things until the middle of the night, when they're both half-asleep, warm under piles of blankets while snow falls outside. Stan pretends not to look forward to it as much as he does, but when Kyle comes home with him on a Friday after school, he counts the minutes through dinner and TV and video games until they finally shuck their jeans off and climb into his bed, Stan complaining about it for good measure.
"Can't you even bring your own pillow?" he says as they settle in, Kyle still wearing his hat and a green sweater with overly long sleeves that makes his eyes look brighter than usual. And they're usually pretty bright.
"Shut up, dude," Kyle says, rubbing his face into Stan's pillow, getting comfortable. It's almost two o'clock in the morning, the whole house silent around them, snow coming down hard outside. Stan sighs with what he hopes sounds like annoyance as he reaches over Kyle to turn off the light. It's actually contentment, and his heart is beating hard as he worms down under the blankets and claims his half of the pillow. Kyle has his eyes closed and seems close to sleep already, lying on his side with his shoulder hunched up toward his cheek. He's turned toward Stan, who smiles to himself at the sight. During the day, Kyle is usually stressed to the point of grinding his teeth out, whether it's about school or the very existence of Eric Cartman, and it's nice to see him calm like this, relaxed after a long night of bonding, just the two of them.
"Night," Stan says, testing to see if Kyle is still conscious.
"'Ngh," Kyle murmurs, and Stan laughs. He shifts his bare legs forward under the blankets until they're touching Kyle's, and Kyle responds like always, pushing his knees against Stan's and resting one bony ankle on top of his. It feels as good as it always has, hiding away from the world with his best friend, the blankets pulled up to their chins, and Stan has a goofy smile stretched across his face as he drifts off to sleep.
Stan wakes up an hour later feeling overly warm, and he laughs to himself when he sees why. Kyle has Stan's thumb in his mouth and is sucking on it while he sleeps, his hand curled around Stan's fist as he holds it to his mouth. When they were six years old, Kyle's parents waged war on his thumb-sucking habit by putting some terrible-tasting liquid on his thumbs so that he'd gag if he stuck them in his mouth. Kyle was miserable, and Stan hated seeing him suffer, so one day while they were watching TV he reached over and stuck his thumb in Kyle's mouth. Kyle had sighed like a man dying of thirst who had just found water, and he held Stan's hand in place, his eyelids lowering as he sucked, both of them staring at the TV. They knew it had to be a secret or Stan would get the evil liquid put on his thumbs, too, so most of the time they did it in bed during their sleepovers, waiting until their parents had tucked them in and left them alone. Eventually it helped Stan sleep, too, having Kyle's mouth wrapped around his thumb and listening to the little noises Kyle made while he sucked, contented moans and sighs. They haven't done it in awhile, because even by their standards it's totally gay, and they try to be more careful about their perceived gayness these days, even when they're alone.
Stan feels fully awake now, and he stares, watching Kyle suck his thumb, mesmerized. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this, the way Kyle's lips circle his thumb, the soft, wet sound of his sucking, and his death grip on Stan's hand, like he won't let anyone take it away. Stan grins and tries to pull his hand free, not really wanting to, just for Kyle's reaction. Kyle's eyebrows knit with distress and he moans, his fingers tightening around Stan's hand as he scoots forward and sucks even harder. Stan laughs, his skin tingling as he realizes he can feel Kyle's tongue, and that his mouth is really warm, and so wet, stuff he never really thought about before when they did this. He starts to get hard under the blankets.
He's going to ignore it, going to try to to get back to sleep, but then Kyle reaches up under his sweater and begins to paw at his own chest. Stan knows what he's looking for. When they were little they played a lot of weird games that would put most kids' versions of "doctor" to shame, and one of them was the "baby game," which also stemmed from Kyle's oral fixation. Apparently his mother had breast-fed him until he was almost three years old, and it kind of fucked him up. He was so wistful about it that he invented the "baby game," which was when he was the baby and Stan held him in his lap, lifted up his shirt and let Kyle suck on his nipples with his eyes closed. Even then Stan knew it was really weird, but it felt good, and he would sometimes trade places with Kyle and suck. It was peaceful, being held and petted and called a baby when they were supposed to act like big boys around everyone else. That was around the time when they began to trust each other even more than they trusted their parents.
Kyle finds his nipple under his sweater and sighs with satisfaction as he rolls it between his fingers, his mouth growing even wetter around Stan's thumb. Stan moans under his breath, his cock aching in his boxers. He wonders if Kyle would wake up if he sucked on his nipple. He reaches over with the hand Kyle is not sucking on and tucks a soft red curl behind his ear.
"Kyle," he whispers. "Hey. Dude, wake up."
Kyle's eyes open slowly, but he's not fully awake, because he's still sucking on Stan's thumb and pinching his nipple, two things that he would be way too embarrassed to do if he was conscious.
"Take your sweater off, man," Stan says. "I want to play the baby game."
Kyle nods drowsily and tries to get his sweater off while still sucking Stan's thumb. Stan laughs and pulls his thumb free, ignoring Kyle's moan of complaint. He offers Kyle his thumb again once Kyle's sweater is off, and scoots down to suck one of Kyle's nipples into his mouth. Kyle groans, his nipple already red and sensitive from his pinching.
"Shh," Stan says. "You want to get caught?" He gives Kyle's nipple a little bite, and Kyle gasps, Stan's thumb sliding from his lips.
"Yeah," he says softly. "I mean – no. Don't want to get caught. Stan, mhmm. Hah – yeah – how come we don't do this anymore?"
Stan laughs around Kyle's nipple and then moves to the other one, turning Kyle on his back. Kyle's skinny chest is heaving already, and his hands are in Stan's hair.
"'Cause it's totally gay," Stan says, twisting Kyle's left nipple between his thumb and forefinger while he licks at the right one.
"Is not," Kyle murmurs irritably. He arches and gasps when Stan pulls his nipple between his teeth.
"I've got a boner right now, dude," Stan says, rubbing the evidence against Kyle's leg. Kyle giggles stupidly, his eyes still closed.
"Me, too."
"That's kinda gay."
"Whatever," Kyle says, mumbling. "Feels so good." He reaches up under Stan's shirt and rubs his chest until he finds Stan's left nipple. Stan gasps when he pinches it, and Kyle grins. Stan wants to kiss him, which hurts a little. It's something he's been wanting for awhile.
"Are you awake now?" Stan asks, sitting up on his elbow, still toying with one of Kyle's nipples with the tip of one finger. Kyle shrugs.
"Mostly."
"You were sucking my thumb, you know."
Kyle laughs. "Sorry," he says. "I'm retarded."
"No, you're not. I don't care if you do it. It feels – kinda good. In a weird way."
Kyle raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?" He reaches down between Stan's legs and brushes his hand over his tented erection. Stan gasps and flushes, his hips bucking. He's not sure if he's trying to get closer or move away. Kyle's hand flops against his chest. He looks really cute in the moonlight through the window, his hat slightly askew, the little freckles across his nose just barely visible.
"I could suck something else, if you want me to," Kyle says. A blush rises on his cheeks, taking him from cute to irresistibly adorable. Stan has always liked the way Kyle looks, and he's only improved with age.
"Are you fucking serious, dude?" Stan asks. He's never had his cock sucked. He got to second base with Wendy back in middle school, but didn't really find boobs to be all they were cracked up to be and hasn't made much of an effort with girls since.
"Yeah, I'm serious," Kyle says. "I mean, why not? We're pretty fucked up already. It's like, we might as well, you know?" He's still blushing hard.
"Oh – okay," Stan says, his heart slamming in his chest. He doesn't want to mess things up with Kyle; it's why he's never tried to kiss him, even when Kyle smiles so hard that Stan feels like he'll die if he can't press their lips together. "Um. Should I just – pull my boxers down, or –"
"Here, stupid," Kyle says. He gets up onto his knees and pushes Stan down onto his back, pinning his shoulders. Stan stares up at him, trying not to pant his breaths out too obviously. His cock is so full it hurts. Kyle looks very serious as he stares down at him, almost grave. Stan wants to ask Do you think I'm cute?, but that would be really gay.
"Dude," he says instead, breathless as he watches Kyle move down his body and tug on the waistband of his boxer shorts. He looks up at Stan as if to ask if it's really okay, looking very young for a moment, and Stan nods.
"God, you are hard," Kyle mutters when he sees Stan's cock standing up between his legs, arching toward his belly. Stan wants to spread his thighs wider, but they're trapped by his boxers, and he whines a little when Kyle lowers his head, his breath on the head of Stan's leaking dick.
"Fuck, man," Stan whispers when Kyle's tongue darts out to lap up some precome. "Yeah."
"I kind of can't believe we haven't done this before," Kyle says, giving Stan a devious grin before he swallows down his cock.
"Ah!" Stan yelps, his head falling back and his back arching as Kyle's mouth slides around him. He knew it would feel good, a hot, wet mouth on his dick, but he can't believe it's this good, the slow slide of Kyle's mouth as his head begins to bob, his tongue like silk on the underside, swollen lips sliding around the shaft. Stan is shaking as he watches, and he pushes Kyle's hat off so he can thread his fingers into his hair.
"Kyle, fuck, yeah," Stan pants out, trying to hold back the urge to slam his hips up and fuck Kyle's mouth. He can't believe how deep Kyle is taking him, and how calm he seems as he sucks, like it's just Stan's thumb, not his about-to-explode cock.
"You've – you've done this before?" Stan asks in disbelief, because there's no way Kyle should be this good at sucking dick. Kyle sniffs out a laugh and pulls off to grin up at Stan, his bottom lip still on the tip of his cock.
"Yeah," he says, trying to seem all cool about it, but his face is really red. Stan's eyebrows shoot up.
"What? When? With who?"
Kyle shrugs. "With Kenny sometimes." He rubs at Stan's balls. "You gonna grill me about it, or should I continue?"
"Ah – just – continue." Stan was close to coming, but it seems a long way off now that he's got Kyle sucking Kenny's dick on his mind. What the fuck does that mean? Is Kyle gay for real? Is Kenny? Kyle does something with his tongue that makes Stan need to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming, and he's back to being about to come.
"Fucking – yeah – gonna come," he says, wanting Kyle to have fair warning. Kyle sucks harder, his head bobbing faster, and Stan whines, his head falling back onto the pillow. He nods crazily, as if Kyle needs encouragement at this point, and his fingers tighten in Kyle's curls when he comes. He bites down hard on his knuckles, his hips pumping, seeing stars behind his pinched-shut eyes. Kyle swallows it all like a pro.
Stan feels out of it when he opens his eyes, totally different from when he comes in his own hand. Kyle crawls up to grin at him, licking his lips.
"What does it taste like?" Stan asks, because he wants to kiss Kyle, so bad.
"Your voice sounds deeper," Kyle says, leaning down, his face hovering over Stan's. "It's like I just made a man out of you or something."
"Shut up," Stan mutters, and he sighs with relief when Kyle finally presses his lips to his. It's not exactly the sweet kiss of his fantasies, tinged with the taste of Stan's come, but it's still so good, Kyle's mouth hot and his lips swollen, salty. Stan opens his lips so Kyle can slide the tip of his tongue against Stan's, and they both moan at that point of contact, sparks trailing down Stan's spine. When Kyle pulls back it's like his big, green eyes are the only thing in the world, and Stan feels blown apart, scared of how much this means to him.
"What the fuck," Stan says softly. "You and Kenny?"
Kyle rolls his eyes. "He told me he'd teach me how to give head. That's all."
"Bullshit." Stan rolls onto his side, the tingling post-orgasm calm fading and the hurt crashing in. Kyle sighs and rests his chin on Stan's shoulder, lying behind him. He bumps his erection against Stan's ass.
"He usually returns the favor," Kyle says.
"Great. So why don't you head over to that fucking shanty town Kenny lives in and crawl into his bed, if he even has one."
"Stanley," Kyle says, nosing at Stan's neck, pressing little kisses there that make Stan's eyes water. "Don't be a bitch. I only let him teach me because I wanted to do it right when you finally let me."
"Yeah, right," Stan mutters, but he tilts his head to give Kyle better access to his neck, where his kisses are growing wetter, rougher. It feels good, the drag of Kyle's teeth across his pulse.
"Kenny's a dick," Kyle says. "I won't touch him anymore if – if you don't want me to."
"What, like I'm your jealous boyfriend or something?" Stan says with a scoff. He reaches back to cup Kyle's head in his hand and sighs when Kyle scoots closer, his erection pressed to the small of Stan's back.
"Yeah, something like that," Kyle says. His voice is soft. Stan rolls onto his back and frowns. Kyle's eyes are even softer, sad-looking.
"Kiss me, okay?" Stan says, his chest feeling ripped up. Kyle nods and closes his mouth over Stan's, licking between his lips in slow little drags of his tongue, making Stan feel almost bodiless with pleasure, like he's evaporated into nothing but this, Kyle's warm mouth, and his hand wrapped possessively around Stan's hip.
"Teach me, then," Stan whispers into Kyle's mouth. Their eyes flutter open, lashes tangling together. Stan wants to climb into Kyle's eyes and live there for awhile. He can read every little thought Kyle is having, like always: he's feeling guilty about the Kenny thing, more than he'll ever let on, and scared that what's happening will leave him hurt, and hopeful that it won't, wanting to trust Stan with this, too, with everything.
"Okay," Kyle says. He sits back and fishes around until he finds his hat, pulling it back on and tucking his curls under it. Stan grins.
"You're such a bitch about your hair," he says. Kyle snorts and flops down onto his back, spreading his legs.
"Whatever, smart ass," he says, grinning. "Suck my dick."
"'Kay." Stan is grinning, too, but he's nervous. He gets up on his knees and sits between Kyle's legs.
"Step one," Kyle says. "Remove underwear."
"Ha." Stan is nervous about this, actually, his hands shaking as he slides his fingers under the waistband of Kyle's boxer briefs. He gives Kyle an anxious look, and Kyle grins, looking fucking perfect with his nipples red and worked-on, his mouth all debauched, that omnipresent hat snug over his ears. Stan slides Kyle's underwear off, trying not to stare at his cock, which is a weird thing to try not to do, considering he's about to put it in his mouth.
"Man, you're so freaked out," Kyle says, his thighs twitching like he wants to cover himself. "You don't have to, you know."
"I know." Stan gives him a look, frowning with determination. "I want to. Just – tell me what to do."
"Just, um. Lick the tip."
Stan takes a deep breath and leans down to do that, intrigued by the strong smell of Kyle between his legs, like the rest of his skin only amplified. Stan laps at him a few times, and they both groan.
"Yeah," Kyle says softly. "Good, that's good."
Stan takes a full inventory of Kyle's dick with the tip of his tongue, licking under the rim of the fat head, through the leaking slit, up and down the shaft. Kyle curses and moans, and Stan laughs when he looks up and sees that Kyle has the corner of a blanket in his mouth.
"Damn," Stan says, pushing Kyle's thighs apart more widely. "You look hot like this."
Kyle smirks, the blanket still between his teeth. Stan wants to take a picture, but he's pretty sure he's going to remember this moment forever anyway.
"You look pretty hot with your mouth on my cock," Kyle says.
"Yeah?" Stan opens wide and takes Kyle into his mouth, his own cock twitching when he hears Kyle's breath start to come in harsh pants.
"Yeah, yeah," Kyle whispers. "Fucking – good, Stan, that's good."
Stan expected to be able to fit more of Kyle into his mouth, but it's not as easy as Kyle made it look. He wraps his hand around the base and uses his hand to jerk what he can't fit in his mouth. Kyle whines and twitches as Stan closes his eyes and savors the taste of him. He didn't even know he wanted this, but it's fucking awesome, making Kyle feel this good.
"Guh – gonna come," Kyle says, grabbing at Stan's ear. Stan is afraid to try and swallow, so he pulls off, and that's when Kyle goes off, right in his face.
"Fuck," Stan says, laughing and wiping at his cheek while Kyle trembles beneath him, pumping out more come, hitting Stan's t-shirt now. Stan peels the shirt off and throws it on the floor, crawling up to lie beside Kyle on the pillow again.
"Jesus, man," Kyle says in a huff, turning toward him. "Unf. That was. Yeah. Here, you missed a spot." He reaches up and wipes some of his come from Stan's cheek. Kyle is still breathing hard, his hand shaking a little as it settles over Stan's hip. The chill of the room is beginning to settle over them again, and Stan reaches down to yank the blankets up over them.
Once they're covered up, Kyle squirms closer. Stan kisses him, wrapping his arms around him, then a leg, Kyle's thigh sliding up between Stan's legs, until it's resting against Stan's soft cock. They both shiver at the feeling, then laugh at each other.
"Want to suck my thumb again?" Stan asks, teasing, but he's kind of serious. Whatever Kyle needs, Stan is going to give it to him, always. Kyle smirks and licks at the corner of Stan's mouth.
"Nah," he says. "Thanks, though."
"Anytime." Stan presses a chaste little kiss over Kyle's lips, but it just gets them going again, sighing into each other's mouths as they rub their tongues together.
"I mean it," Kyle says, pulling back to give Stan a devastating look. "Thanks – thank you. I don't know how I would, like, live without you. You make me feel – like I belong somewhere. You know?"
"Yeah," Stan says. He squeezes Kyle closer, pulling him to his chest, and Kyle closes his eyes, rubbing his nose on Stan's jaw, hiding his face against his neck. "I know. Me too."
Kyle falls asleep first, and Stan plays with the curls that have escaped below the back of his hat. This doesn't feel as new as it should, maybe because they've shared the bed so many times before, even if they weren't nakedly entwined beneath the blankets with the taste of each other's come on their lips. He moans happily and wraps around Kyle as tightly as he can, wanting to pull him all the way into his chest, to lose the ability to distinguish his body from Kyle's.
"Dude," Kyle says, reaching down to pinch Stan's ass. "My ribs. Ouch."
"Sorry."
"S'okay." Kyle kisses his collarbone, and Stan grins.
In the morning, they wake up slow, kissing and making fun of each other for having bad breath. At the breakfast table, Stan sneaks looks at Kyle over his bowl of Frosted Flakes, and when Kyle catches him looking he smiles. Stan can hardly believe it's real, here in the light of day. He's in love with his best friend, and it feels so good. It's going to be a great Saturday, tromping around town with their friends, but he's already looking forward to the end of the day, when he can climb back into bed and pull Kyle into his arms, where he belongs.