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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): So this is...Chapter...4.52? Haha There are too many words and not enough smexing and it feels like a filler to me. But I luh-huuuve the ending and I hope you guys do too =/ ... Let me know what you think!!

Kyle’s POV

I’m relaxing in the basement of Token’s house with Craig, Tweek, and Clyde, wondering just exactly where Stan is, considering Craig came back at least three minutes ago. They had run off together 15 minutes previously, looking all mischievous with Butters sandwiched between them, but I was left out of the loop of… whatever they were doing. Craig looked slightly flushed when he came back down the steps at a run, but I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell.

Clyde is trying to forcibly shove a bowl in my hands and I’m just about to snap on him when I see Stan stroll over to our circle out of the corner of my eye.

“Where were you?” I ask, slightly irritable. He left me without my best friend in the whole wide world for the last 20 minutes and it was not entirely enjoyable, even in my partially drunken state.

“Aw, did you miss me Kylie?” He taunts and I smack him hard in the thigh. He laughs at my “retaliation” and throws himself into the spot next to me, grabbing the bowl from Clyde and lighting it up. I sigh dramatically from beside him and he nearly chokes on the smoke in his mouth when he holds back his laugh.

“Serves you right, you pot head,” I grumble, irritation laced with amusement, and he blows a smoky kiss to me.

“I was giving Kenny something he’s wanted for quite some time, if you must know,” Stan says quietly, turning his body to face me on the couch.

I swing one of my legs over his and scoot my body closer to him, addicted to the tingly sensation I get when we get this close to each other. We sit amicably for a few minutes while listening to a stoned and drunk Clyde babble on about Bebe. Once Clyde trails off to go grab another beer from across the room, Stan smirks something impish and takes another quick hit from the bowl before he grabs the back of my head to press our lips together. He pries my lips open with the aid of his tongue and immediately lets the smoke unfurl into my unexpected mouth. I gasp when he starts twisting his tongue sinuously against mine and unfortunately inhale most of the smoke between our open mouths. I’m left slightly breathless and disoriented, but I manage to catch the small laugh he lets slip. I can still taste the smoke on my tongue and the burn in my throat when it unexpectedly slid into my lungs. I resist the urge to cough and instead punch Stan in the hip.

“Hey! What was that for?” Stan laughs out, half indignant and half amused.

“That was for making my inhale that shit. This was for kissing me,” I say, grabbing the edges of his cap to pull his face close enough to mine in order to place a sweet peck on his waiting lips. He smiles adoringly down at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and snuggling me into his side. When Clyde returns with a cold beer, Stan turns his torso towards him to continue passing the bowl back and forth. I frown and wrinkle my nose a little at their game, but am distracted from saying anything when I see Butters and Kenny stumble down the steps.

I slide Stan’s arm off my shoulders and am almost out of my seat, but Stan keeps me seated with a loose grip around my waist. I’m too shocked at what I see to protest properly. Apparently that something that Kenny has wanted for quite some time is Butters. Kenny is hovering over Butters and it’s obvious that he tripped coming down the steps by his slightly awkward stance. I watch Butters’ eyes flutter closed and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Kenny! What the hell, dude? Where have you been?” I see Stan look at me from my peripheral vision, but ignore it in favor of commenting on Kenny’s presence in the basement. He’s eyeing the bowl being passed between Stan and Clyde, stumbling over to us with his arm slung over Butters’ shoulders.

“You better not be down here to smoke, too, Kenny.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but that’s what I’m here for, Jew-boy,” Kenny states and the frown on my face grows deeper. Kenny’s finger gently rubs the crease between my brows and I immediately relax into the soft touch. For some bizarre reason, Kenny has always had some weird instinct about knowing how to calm me down or get me to relax. The more time we spent with each other over the years, the better he was able to read my body language and act accordingly. I hear him laugh and say, “Did you want me to say that I came down here to see your pretty, red, Jew-curls?”

I try hard not to laugh for a few seconds, but the way he said it and the warm, amused look in his eyes has me laughing in the end. I shove Stan away towards Clyde, as to not disrupt their ritualistic light, inhale, hold, exhale, pass, repeat. I stare openly when Kenny drags Butters straight into his lap and I lean forwards to give a questioning look to Stan. He just smirks deviously at me and I know he’ll tell me about it later by the way his eyes light up. He was never good at keeping such things from me.

“Gettin’ cozy, Kenny?” Stan asks while still looking at me and I laugh when Kenny says, “Don’t judge me, Stan.”
I see Stan pass the bowl to Kenny and pointedly look away when he accepts it; acting the goody-goody two shoes I’m known to be. I look back over to see Kenny easing the smoke slowly out of his mouth, trying to not blow smoke in Butters face and I redirect my gaze back at Stan with another questioning look.

“Okay, seriously, Stanley. What did you do to them?” I question slightly suspiciously, slightly jokingly.

Stan laughs and mutters, “I’ll tell you later, man. Just enjoy the moment.”

“But you must have done something to open Kenny’s eyes real wide because he looks like he wants to fuck Butters through this sofa, and Stan, I’m gonna be honest with you: I’m not prepared to be a witness to that.”

Stan snorts and finally gives in a little, “I’ll fill you in when we’re relatively alone and not speaking over the two people we’re talking about. I don’t think they’d notice at this point, but you know Kenny pays attention the moment you don’t want him to.”

I silently agree with him and lean back into couch, content with the situation for now. However, the next thing I know, Kenny has his lips attached to Butters’ and I know it’s rude to stare, but I’m having a sort of déjà vu watching them. I can see stray wisps of smoke leaking out of their mouths and I’m vaguely aware of my jaw being open and my head tilting to the side. I’m too stunned and too drunk to react properly when Kenny turns to look at me and I almost thank him when he shuts my mouth with his finger. The next moment, Kenny and Butters have disappeared behind a chair and I turn my head slowly to glare at Stan, who all but bursts out laughing at the expression on my face. I open my mouth to start bombarding Stan with all of the questions floating around in my head when I’m interrupted by Cartman’s loud mouth.

I forgo listening to any of their on-going conversation in favor of giving a pointed look to Stan, pushing myself into a standing position to walk back upstairs. I’m halfway up the steps before I feel Stan’s fingers wrap around my ankle. I stumble a little when I don’t immediately realize he has a pretty good grip on me and nearly fall on my face. I turn around only to see Stan on his knees three steps down, leaning most of his weight on his free hand on the step below me. I sit down in favor of standing and notice his grin grow marginally bigger. I tilt my head to the side with a quirk of one of my eyebrows and lean back on my elbows.

“So, what the hell was that all about?” I inquire quietly, waiting patiently for him to tell me what the fuck was going on.

Stan laughs outright and slides up the remaining steps to sit on the one below mine, opening his mouth to speak, but is immediately interrupted by Craig and Tweek running up the other side of the wide staircase. Once they’re through the door, he finally answers my question.

“Kenny and I had a rather interesting conversation today, that’s all. I was teasing him about spending so much time with Butters… but he thought I was being serious and how he reacted totally gave him away. It was hilarious, Kyle. He blushed. Kenny McCormick blushed. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Stan’s deep, calm voice is soothing to my ears and I’m almost too distracted to not hear the actual words. I understood enough of it to know that he didn’t quite answer my question. The alcohol is doing too good of a job at numbing me.

“Stan, that doesn’t answer my question…”

“Well… I wanted to help Kenny along in his relationship with Butters… So I dragged Craig into my awesome ‘Get Kenny Laid’ plan.”

“ ‘Get Kenny-’ Kenny doesn’t need to be laid, Stan. What he needs is a healthy relationship,” I say exasperatedly.

Stan smiles replying, “I know. The getting laid part comes later, I promise. Relationship first; then sex, sex, sex.”

I laugh at his last statement and poke him, prodding him to keep going.

“Right, the plan was to get Kenny jealous without him knocking my teeth out or bashing my face in or maiming me in general. Craig came up with the brilliant plan of dancing, since it’s kind of like sex, just with clothes on, ya know?”

“Stan, that’s just harsh. You and Craig were dancing with Butters?” I wince at their cheekiness.

“Ha! Think about it, Kyle. You know that’s the fastest way to get something across to Kenny. Show him what he can have, but is too much of an ass to see, and poof. He’ll finally see. And saw, he did.”

“You kept it strictly professional and Kenny saw straight through your little ploy because of that and egged you on.”

“Do you want me to tell the story, or are you just going to figure it out on your own and ruin all of my fun and pride?”

“Oh, no. Please, continue.”

“Well, we’re totally getting Butters all hot and bothered, right? He’s in between me and Craig; back to me, front to Craig and I swear to God: If I had any sort of sexual attraction to Butters, I would have said ‘Screw the plan’ and fucked him myself. That boy sure as shit knows how to move his body to drive any person crazy. I don’t care how straight you are.”

“But you didn’t ‘cause you love meeee.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Stan smirks, “I get Kenny’s attention and turn it up a notch when I know he knows it’s a sort of game. He didn’t really react the way I thought he would and got Craig out of the range of fire.”

“So that’s why he came sprinting down the steps.”

“I stayed behind to make sure Kenny kept his attention on Butters. I may or may not have molested his ass. Which is quite tantalizing, I might add. I would tap that if I weren’t already tapping someone else’s ass. I presented him with the challenge of owning Butters’ ass and I must say that I succeeded quite well.”

I laugh at that and say, “You’re so modest. I can’t believe your little plan actually worked.”

“Don’t doubt my powers of deduction and seduction and reduction-”

“Reduction, Stan? I don’t think that word fits this situation, unless you’re talking about reducing Kenny and Butters to shivering balls of horny teenage boys. I think we need to take a few more shots to get your words straight.”

He tackles me when we reach the top of the steps and I wiggle out from underneath him to sprint towards the kitchen, Stan hot on my heels. When he chases me through the kitchen doors, we almost collide head on with Token. And Red. Who are making out in the middle of the kitchen. Red is seated on the island’s counter with Token in between her spread legs; Token is so tall and Red, so short, that the height of the counter still doesn’t make Red eye level with Token. Stan bursts out laughing and I tentatively creep around their little make-out session to grab the bottle of Burnett’s and our two shot glasses. We settle ourselves at the kitchen table, as far away as possible from Token and Red, and pour out a generous amount of vodka into each of our shot glasses.

We’ve been here since 6 o’clock and it’s only our fourth shot of the night. I’m not as drunk as I’d like to be and I know Stan feels exactly the same way when he downs the shot and motions for more. I smile widely at him and refill our shot glasses, already feeling the tingly and warming affects of the new alcohol rushing through my system. We down our second shot and I reach down the table to grab a bowl of potato chips and another bowl of pretzels. I pass the pretzels towards Stan and we munch on our snacks until we can feel the full effects of alcohol coursing through our veins. The sounds of Token and Red sucking face are loud and awkward in the near silent kitchen and I stifle my laughter in a new handful of potato chips before motioning to Stan to leave the kitchen, immediately.

As soon as we’re out of the kitchen, Stan stutters through his laughter, “I didn’t know Red had it in her. Token is going to be one whipped mother fucker when she’s done with him.”

“Not as whipped as you are to me,” I say slyly, twining my fingers through his and lead him through the rooms to make our rounds. We only just got through our first two groups when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I curse out loud hoping it’s not my mom checking up on me because I just chugged a beer and downed another shot with Stan. There’s no way I’m coherent enough to pretend I’m not well on my way to being completely trashed, but my anxiety is smothered when I check my phone and see it’s just a text message from Kenny reading: In guest bedroom of basement. Bring me a big blanket so I don’t have to move. Love you.

I laugh out loud at the text and watch as Stan does yet another shot, texting Kenny back, "You’re so fucking lazy. Fleece blanket or legit blanket?” Kenny is so fucking lucky that I’m still coherent enough to read his text message, let alone text him back. I immediately get his response:

Legit. Make it snappy, bitch.

I shove my phone back into my back pocket and grab Stan’s arm to sling it over my shoulder in order to start my search for a “legit” blanket. I drag Stan back down the basement stairs and sit him down on the last step to open the closet door right next to the stair case. Stan is laughing to himself about a joke he thought I was listening to and I gather a comforter up in one of my arms before turning back around to Stan who shockingly stood up on his own just to collapse into my other side. I shift both objects up in my arms to make my trek across the room and walk through the door trying to shush Stan’s laughter while trying not to laugh myself. We stumble over to the bed and I drop Stan on his ass, getting an angry and confused noise in response. I shake the blanket out over Butters’ and Kenny’s entwined bodies, taking care to cover both of them completely. I balance myself over Kenny’s body to place a soft kiss on his forehead, turning unsteadily back to Stan, hefting him back up against my side to carry him out of the room.

We make it halfway across the room before Stan says, “Can’t feel my feet,” and promptly trips, dragging me to the floor with him. I’m a giggling mess of drunk as I fall down, half on top of him, but mostly just tangled around him. He sighs softly and tilts his head back to scan the room for any people that might be lingering around before he reaches down to wrap his hand in my shirt to pull my face up to his. I shift my body over him until I’m straddling his waist and follow his pull until our lips are softly pressed together. His tongue flicks out to trace along my bottom lip and I obligingly part my lips to allow his tongue access to my mouth. He groans deep in his throat when our tongues slide wetly against each other and he skates his hands along my back to pull me tight against his body. The moan that slides out of my mouth and into his is throaty and I am rewarded for it with Stan’s fingers twisting into my curls.

He props himself up on one elbow to gain a better angle to devour my moans and his shift in position pushes me back into his lap. I whine out my approval, grinding down into his lap to show it. His resulting gasp is satisfying and the way he pushes me off of his lap and onto my back is even more so. Stan always was the dominate one in our multitude of relationships; I was more natural at being submissive to him. I know tonight he’s in a gentle mood when he doesn’t immediately start to rip my clothes off of my body and begin marking me everywhere with teeth and lips. Instead, he’s gently kissing a trail along my jaw, paying close attention to the spots that make my toes curl, delicately drawing another trail of saliva with his tongue down the column of my throat, stopping at the dip between my collarbones to suck and lick teasingly. His hands are back at my hips, pulling at my legs to wrap them around his waist, yet again gaining that leverage to have his way with me.

He’s torturing me slowly with the light grinding of his hips against mine and the leisurely thrusting of his tongue in my mouth. His right hand is gently cupping my head, his thumb lightly tracing patterns across my cheek bones, while his left hand has a surprisingly firm grip on my thigh.

The previous time he kissed me this gently was before he left for three consecutive college tours that were supposed to last the duration of one week. I was at his house, helping him pack (in reality, I was more of a distraction), and when the time came for him to climb into the back of his parents’ SUV and drive off… I was clutching onto him, face buried in his neck, ignoring his dad’s impatient foot tapping… He placed his hands on either sides of my head and pulled me into the sweetest kiss I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving… And the last images I remember from that day are of tears streaming down his face and the sight of their car driving down the street and out of view.

I’m ripped back into the present with a startled gasp when I’m suddenly aware of Stan’s warm, calloused hand sneak underneath my shirt to tickle over my abdomen and stomach. My breath catches in my throat when his thumb steadily massages tiny circles over my hip and dips beneath my jeans momentarily. I’m gradually becoming more and more aroused by the minute and I’m not drunk enough to do this on Token’s basement floor of all places.

I tear my mouth reluctantly away from Stan’s and gasp out, “Stan, we can’t do this here. Floors are exceptionally uncomfortable and exceedingly inconvenient.”

I feel, more than hear, Stan’s muffled laugh against my throat before he asks, “Kyle, how do you still have the ability to say big words like ‘incoven- enconvie-’… big words in general when you’ve had like five shots?”

I snort before I counter, “The same way you can keep playing football after numerous injuries. They’re abilities we both have ingrained in our brains.” He flips me over so I’m lying on my stomach and he settles himself on the backs of my thighs.

“If we’re going to have a science lesson, can it at least be anatomy and not biology?” I giggle and arch my back when I feel his finger trace my spine from the base of my neck to the top of my ass.

“Let’s learn about the spinal column, Kyle. Do you know anything about it?” he asks, but doesn’t give me a chance to answer, “For starters, there are 26 vertebrae in the spinal column, divided into five different sections,” He mumbles as his hand returns to the back of my neck and his finger individually traces each bump, “There are seven cervical vertebrae in the human neck, known as C1 through C7.”

A shiver races up and down my spine as his hand continues to count until he draws an invisible, horizontal line across my shoulders. He continues down my spine, again making sure to trace each individual bone.

“The twelve thoracic vertebrae, also known as T1 – T12, make up the thoracic spine and correspond to each pair of ribs.” As he states this, he traces the contours of my ribs with both of his hands and draws another line across the middle of my back before continuing his spontaneous anatomy lesson.

“The five lumbar vertebrae make up the lower back and are known as L1 – L5.” His finger finally stops right at the top of my jeans and he draws another line across my waistband. Instead of carrying on his line down my spine, he opts to grab my ass in both hands and squeeze a little. My squirming is interrupted by him speaking yet again, “The five sacral vertebrae are fused together to make up one bone, called the sacrum, and the four coccygeal vertebrae are also fused together into another single bone, that is commonly known as the tailbone.” I’m arching into his teasing hands by the time his last little speech is done and I’m half dumbfounded, half turned on.

“You tease me about being able to say words like ‘exceptionally uncomfortable’ and ‘exceedingly inconvenient,’ and then give me a detailed anatomy lesson about the spinal column? If that isn’t hypocritical, then I have no idea what is.”

Stan snickers and smacks my ass lightly, “I have an anatomy test on Monday. The spinal column is included.”

I shake my head in amazement and there’s an idea half-formed in my head about helping him study all weekend; with hands on experience, he’s bound to ace that test. However, Stan rolls off my back to sprawl out next to me and I can tell he really just wants to get off by the way his eyes are glazed over and how the fingers in his right hand are twitching minutely. I notice his eyebrow twitching periodically also and I suddenly realize why he isn’t trying to rip my clothes off right now. Whenever he feels like he’s using me, that one eyebrow always twitches. It’s like his tell if we were playing poker. I sigh softly and push myself up onto my hands and knees before silently crawling across the two feet that separates us, leaning over his body to catch his gaze.

“You should go find Wendy. It isn’t like I’m never going to see you again if you leave me alone for one night, Stan,” I say playfully, trying to get across that I don’t mind not being the one he needs tonight.

He smiles a grateful smile and I laugh when he shoots up into a sitting position to kiss me all over my face before bounding across the room and up the steps. I shake my head to myself and plop myself backwards to gaze up at the ceiling, thinking to myself that I’ve just put myself in an uncomfortable and unfortunate position by letting the one person who would get me off tonight run to his girl toy. I sigh deeply and close my eyes to try and will the room to stop spinning. I let out a startled yelp when I open them to see someone peering down at me who was definitely not there when I closed my eyes. He smirks subtly at my scared yelp and my heart is still pounding in my chest when he bends over to rest his hands on his knees. My hand moves on its own to cover my racing heart, trying to will it to slow the fuck down, but all it seems to do is beat faster. Something twists itself into a knot in my stomach as his hand reaches down to run his palm over my forehead, digging his fingers into the hair on the top of my head.

“Christophe?”
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