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YellowHaired, BlueEyed Bunnies	By : ginger240 Category: +S through Z > South Park > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2649 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from South Park and do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
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(A/N): Drug usage in this chapter, beware.

Within the 30 or so minutes following my leaving Butters’ side, I’ve chugged a couple more beers and did another shot with Cartman. Needless to say, I’m well on my way to being completely inebriated and the night hasn’t even begun. I’m not quite there yet, and I luckily still have the amazing ability to stand upright without the help of a wall. I’m walking through Token’s house aimlessly and as I round a corner, I come face to face with someone I haven’t seen in years: ze Mole.

I’m too not sober to keep the outright laugh from leaking out of my mouth, but I do manage to ask quite nicely, “What the fuck are you doing here, Christophe?”

He smirks at my drunkenness and smacks me quite sharply on the side of my head for calling him by his given name before he nods his head over to Gregory, who is standing just inside the room next to us, talking to someone whose name I currently can’t recall. He doesn’t say a word and instead leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth and by the time I notice that I’m staring at it (and him), it’s too late. His smirk is wider now and I have to struggle to fight the drunken feeling that’s slowly overwhelming me.

Before I can even articulate a coherent sentence, he has his arm around me and is steering me down the hallway and into Token’s family room where all of the couples are grinding against each other to the beat of the music that’s making the speakers bleed. He steers me right past the dance floor and to the corner of the room where the alcohol is being dispersed. The voice in the back of my head (you know, the one that you usually ignore in favor of having fun?) sighs heavily and says a half-hearted ‘No more alcohol, Kenny,’ but I already know I’m going to ignore it once again. Christophe silently pours me half a shot of whiskey and pours his own glass all the way to the top. He knows I’m too drunk to match him and I feel vaguely thankful for the generosity. He glances down at me before raising his glass to clink against mine, muttering, “À la vie.” I swallow my half-shot and pull a holy-shit-I-can’t-believe-you-fucking-DRINK-this-shit face that makes Christophe laugh softly. His laugh dies off sooner than I thought it would and I look up at him to see what made him stop, noticing his eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. His eyes are slightly widened in wonder and I turn around (slow enough to not fall over) and immediately my eyes find the person that has caught his attention:

Butters.

Butters is dancing with Stan and Craig, and quite honestly I don’t think what they’re doing can even be considered dancing. Butters is snugly fit in between the two dark-haired boys; his back is flush against Stan’s chest and Craig is facing the both of them. Butters has one of his arms raised above his head, wrapped around Stan’s neck, while the other is resting lightly against Craig’s shoulder. He has his head thrown back on Stan’s shoulder, bottom lip between his teeth, and suddenly I want to be the one he’s dancing against. Craig’s wandering hands and Stan’s wandering lips make me want to protectclaimkeep and it takes all of my remaining will-power and a raised eyebrow from Christophe to stop me from acting too hastily against the idea of Butters dancing with the two other boys. Instead, I keep my eyes locked on Butters’ writhing body and try to assess the situation (which is quite difficult drunk and while watching Butters dance like that) from an objective stand-point. After a few moments of observation, I notice that Stan’s lips are barely touching Butters’ neck and Craig’s hands are avoiding all places deemed inappropriate. Stan’s eyes hold a tint of mischief in them and he locks eyes with me from across the room and smirks widely at me. So, this is a game. I raise a challenging eyebrow and immediately regret it when he takes a small bit of Butters’ neck between his teeth and tugs at the same moment his hands push Butters’ hips back into his. From my unfortunate position across the room, I can plainly see the way Butters arches into Stan and gasps at his ministrations. As soon as I see Craig reach his hands behind Butters to grasp his ass, pulling his small frame into Craig’s much larger one, and rotate his hips -once, twice- I make my way across the room.

Stan immediately says something to Craig, who turns around to see me approaching and drops his grip on Butters like he’s on fire, bolting out of the room while laughing hysterically. Stan remains, but whips Butters’ body around so that his tight, little, perfect ass is facing me. The moment I’m within hearing range, Stan locks gazes with me and says across Butters’ shoulder, “Kenny, Butters tells me that you think you can handle this ass.” One of his hands lowers to Butters ass to grope and pull him even closer against his body. “Care to prove it?”

An unexpected smile breaks out across my face and Stan’s eyes light up when my facial expression changes from “what the shit, man?!” to “oh, this should be fun.” He kisses Butters lightly on his cheek before slowly pushing his body backwards into my waiting arms. The second my arms are securely wrapped around Butters’ waist, he grins at me before running off, leaving me relatively alone with Butters. My hands slide backwards across Butters’ lower stomach to grip his hips loosely and I lean my head over his shoulder so our cheeks are touching and I can feel the smile that’s plastered on his face. I allow one of my own to slip on my face while our bodies move to the deafening beat of the bass in the song presently blaring through the sound system. Butters’ ass is tight against my front and the way he’s pressing his hips into me makes me want to push him into the floor and fuck him right then and there. His hands are in my hair, tangling, tugging, pulling, and I almost lose it when his back arches as he lets his head fall back onto my shoulder, just as he did with Stan.

He presses his ass harder against me for one blissful moment and I realize that this is still very much a game. I grasp his hips firmer in my hands to push his body slightly away from my own (much to my disappointment) to turn him around to face me. With my hands now on his ass, I pull his hips back against me and am momentarily stunned when his hands slide to my hips to keep me tight against him. One of those hands slides up my chest to tangle itself back into my hair and he slowly drags my face closer to his own.

I lean down suddenly, my lips almost touching his, and I ask, “How long do I have to last in order for me to prove that I can own your ass?”

Butters’ laugh is almost unheard in the commotion that surrounds us, but I can feel it through his chest that’s tantalizingly close to my own. He grinds his hips hard against mine – twice this time – and I inhale sharply at the rush of sensations that flow over me. This side of Butters is completely unexpected and I’m left wondering where the hell he’s been during all of the other parties Token has thrown. I almost forget that I asked him a question, when he finally answers:

“All night.”

I’m fucked. “Shit, Butters. That’s a long fucking time with you grinding up on me like that. I don’t think that’s very fair, baby boy. How about this: I spend the rest of my night right here next to you, but we stop dancing. Now. If we keep this up any longer, I just might lose it.”

Butters laughs softly and his hips slowly come to a halt. He looks up at me through the fringe that has fallen out of the barrettes we spent several minutes meticulously putting in his hair just hours before and nods his head silently. I breathe a sigh of relief and wrap my fingers around his thin wrist, pulling him toward the door across the room that I know leads to the basement downstairs.

The stairs prove to be difficult when I nearly topple down them three times on the first two steps. Butters is laughing uncontrollably and I can’t help but laugh with him, tugging on his wrist to keep myself upright. He finally wraps my arm around his shoulders, shifting my grip on his wrist so that his fingers are interlaced with mine, and steadies me enough to slowly walk me down the flight of stairs with the aid of the walls on either side of us.

When we reach the bottom of the steps, I lose my balance completely and slam both of us into the wall opposite the stair case. Butters is pinned beneath the weight of my upper body and I have half a mind to just keep him there all night, but remember I came down here for a reason. I place my hands on the wall on either side of his body and push slightly off of him, looking him in the eyes. One of my legs is between both of Butters’ and when I shift to keep my balance I accidentally rub against him through his jeans. I watch his eyes flutter closed and hear him let a soft moan slip past those pink lips. However, my next thought is completely forgotten when I hear Kyle yell at me from across the room.

“Kenny! What the hell, dude? Where have you been?” I hear Kyle ask and I immediately back off of Butters, pulling him against my side to walk us towards the couches where Kyle, Stan, Clyde, Craig, and Tweek are lounging. Tweek is sitting on the arm of the plushy leather couch with his legs across Craig's lap with a blunt in between his lips and Kyle is scolding Stan and Clyde who are currently passing a bowl back and forth. Kyle shoots me a glare and shouts, “You better not be down here to smoke, too, Kenny.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but that’s what I’m here for, Jew boy.” Kyle’s frown grows deeper and I reach my hand out to rub my finger through the crease in between his eyebrows to smooth it out. I laugh at him and say, “Did you want me to say that I came down here to see your pretty, red, Jew-curls?”

He finally laughs and shoves Stan over closer to Clyde to make room for me and Butters. Instead of allowing Butters to sit in the seat next to me, I pull him into my lap and shift his body around until he is straddling my hips.

“Gettin’ cozy, Kenny?” Stan asks with a barely-there smirk on his face and Clyde laughs from beside him.

“Don’t judge me, Stan.”

Stan repacks the bowl and passes it to me along with a clear green lighter. I light up and suck in the smoke, holding it in my chest, looking up at Butters to gauge his reaction. His hands are pressed lightly against my waist and he’s leaning closer to me, eyes on my lips. I slowly allow the smoke to pass through my lips again, taking care to not blow smoke straight into his face. I raise an eyebrow at him and he blushes slightly before shifting nervously in my lap.

I grab onto him with one hand and mumble, “Stop moving around so damn much, Butters. Jesus Christ. Why are you staring at me like that, hmm? What do you want?”

Butters shifts around nervously again and I almost give in to the urge to drag him up two flights of steps and into a bedroom just so I can show him how much his nervous wiggling is affecting me. Kyle is speaking to Stan over me and Butters and I almost miss what comes out of his mouth.

“Can I try it?”

I stare at him in complete shock for all of 5 seconds before I nod my head and grab the back of his head with my free hand to pull him in the remaining few inches, softly touching my lips against his. He gasps at the sudden kiss and I choose that moment to slip my tongue briefly into his mouth before retreating entirely.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he gasps out and I try, but fail to stop the laugh that’s bubbling up inside me.

“I know, just when I do that again, open your mouth without questioning me and breathe in, alright? I’ll give you what you want, trust me.” He nods his head obediently and his eyes slide to half-mast while I light the bowl up again, repeating what I did before.

I pull his face towards mine again and he obligingly slides forward into the kiss, opening his mouth almost immediately. I slowly exhale the smoke into his mouth and he breathes in as I do so, capturing the smoke in between our lips. I tangle my tongue around his briefly before I yet again break the kiss and close his mouth, telling him to inhale and hold it. Looking to my left, I see Kyle staring at us with wide eyes and an open mouth. I feel Butters exhale against my cheek as I put my fingers beneath Kyle’s jaw to close it. When I feel Butters' lips start to trail lightly down my neck, I stand up with him still seated in my lap, walk him over to the revolving chair next to the couches and drop him gently onto it, spinning it around so that it’s facing away everyone. I move to stand above Butters and nudge my leg between his knees, bracing one arm on the back of the chair, placing the other against his cheek. I lower my face down to kiss him properly this time, digging my fingers into his now ruined hair, tilting his head back at a better angle. I thrust my tongue into Butters’ mouth and almost smile when I hear him whimper into my mouth when our tongues touch. Just as Butters starts to grind against my leg, we’re interrupted yet again and I have an overwhelming urge to castrate however interrupts me next.

“KENNEH!” It’s Cartman and I’m seriously considering cutting his dick off and feeding it to the dogs.

I pop up from behind the chair and shout, “Goddamn it, Cartman. What the fuck do you want? I’m busy!” I feel Butters’ hands rubbing circles against the skin under my shirt and the hand that’s in his hair tightens slightly. The palm of one of his hands presses against me through my jeans and I grit my teeth tighter while still glaring at Cartman.

“Aw, Kennaaayy don’t get all pissy on me. I can’t spend time with my favorite blonde?” Cartman goads and I really want to punch him in the face.

“Not now, Cartman. Fuck off, I’ll hang out with you later,” I grit out between my teeth. By now Butters is boldly rubbing my hard-on with both fingers and palm and I have to remind myself that we’re in a room full of people so I don’t rip my zipper down and – his tongue is now licking me through my jeans and I snap.

I pull Butters out of the chair by my grip in his hair and drag him over to the guest bedroom the Token’s have in their basement. I kick the door open, flick the lights on, say “Get the fuck out, now,” before throwing Butters onto the queen sized bed, slamming the door shut after the couple previously occupying the room have fled.

“I think it’s safe to say that, for the moment, I own your ass.”

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(A/N): GAH! tell me what you thinkkkk! peasssss?
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