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On the outside, Kyle Broflovski lives a successful life. He lives in New York, and is a paralegal for a very swanky law firm. His mother is proud of him and, miraculously, so is his father. But inside, he feels like a failure, a sham, and all because he has a mountain of debt. Studying for seven years is expensive, living in New York even more so, and combined with the astronomical debt he accrued while paying off everyone's debts in South Park, means Kyle is destined for a life in the red. Honestly, as smart as Kyle was as a kid - and still is - he didn't really understand how credit worked when he was 9 years old. Although, he wasn't going to tell that to the desperate, bed-sheet wearing crowds he was drawing in, draining the economy with their ill-advised cheapskatery because they understood credit even less than Kyle did. If he had known back then just how much his great sacrifice would fuck up his finances, and how little people would appreciate it, he wouldn't have bothered. But nobody with foresight becomes a martyr.

He can't even console himself that he may be broke, but at least he's doing better than his other friends, because they've all done pretty well for themselves and actually seem happier than he does. Stan is a marine biologist in Long Beach, living his best hippie life, Kenny is an artist at the very first tattoo parlour in South Park, and Cartman, much to Kyle's utter disdain, lives in New York too. Naturally, he has some high-flying finance job, and his social media is filled with enough photos of yachts and not-so-well-concealed lines of coke and baggies of pills to make Jordan Belfort start grinding his teeth. Although they run in different circles, the fact that he and Cartman are in the same city is enough to make him break out in hives, and he dreads the possibility of running into him in one of the most densely populated cities in the world. 

But Kyle knows that suffering in silence is never productive. He would never ask for money, because his mom would immediately go into protective, helicopter mode and insist he move back to Colorado, maybe South Park, maybe his old bedroom because it's considerably cheaper than living where he is now. But even if he did move back, the lectures from his father would make him feel considerably unwelcome. He could talk to Stan about it, of course, he's his best friend, but that doesn't necessarily make him the best shoulder to cry on. No, the only person Kyle feels could really appreciate what he is going through is Kenny. They meet up for coffee when Kyle is home at Thanksgiving, and even though he has to swallow a big lump of pride to admit he is struggling financially, Kenny's unfazed expression, and solemn nods are encouraging enough for Kyle to offload with little inhibition. He tells Kenny how he is budgeting, cutting down on certain luxuries, but really he needs to find a way to maximise his income. He is already doing as much overtime as his employer is willing to give him. Kyle just needs to know how to make a little extra on the side. When Kenny suggests sex work - and cam work specifically - Kyle almost spits out his coffee, but takes a moment when he realises Kenny is completely serious. He did it, Kenny says, in college when he needed extra cash. He admits he probably wouldn't have made it through college without it. To Kyle, it makes total sense for Kenny. He's uninhibited, unabashed, and has always been able to appreciate his body in a purely utilitarian capacity. Bodies are not sacred to Kenny. That's why he had no problem jumping off people's roofs at parties, or setting his hair on fire at the back of the school bus, because he knows that bones break but can easily be put back together if you spend long enough in a cast. Your hair may be singed and damaged, but it'll grow back eventually. Plus, Kenny is still one of the most beautiful people Kyle has seen in real life, and with his piercings and tattoos he's turned from being simply handsome into a work of art. He is in no doubt that people would pay top dollar to watch him take his clothes off, perform lewd acts for their entertainment and gratification. If his body can make some serious cash for him, then he may as well go for it.

Kyle doesn't know if he could say the same thing for himself. He doesn't think he's very attractive, but he can look at his naked body and not feel totally disappointed. He still plays basketball, after all, and takes runs in the park, so he keeps himself fit. It just seems ironic to him that while Kenny is gorgeous and so liberated with his body, Kyle feels average at best and is so precious about his. But maybe it has little to do with self-esteem, and more with comfort zones and boundaries. Kyle has never had a one-night stand, but he's had a couple good relationships. He very rarely sends dick pics or nudes, and always feels a little embarrassed when a significant other sends one to him, but he still slips a hand into his pants anyway. He leaves the coffee shop that day after promising Kenny he would consider it, and consider it he did. He knows Kenny wouldn't have suggested it if he didn't think it was viable, if he didn't think Kyle would have some success and people would want to see him. Subsequently, it's all he thinks about for the entire holiday and when he returns to his apartment, with shaking hands and a lot of alcohol, he gives it a try.

He keeps his camera low, obscuring his face because his privacy is more important than ever. If even one person from college, or South Park recognises him, he will be utterly mortified. He only reveals himself from the neck down, but still gets a positive response from a dozen or so horny men, all masturbating over his naked body at the same time, and he makes $1,000 on his first night. It's flattering for sure, and also a huge incentive to keep this up.

Just like anything Kyle pursues, he takes it seriously. As privacy is of the utmost importance, he decides to have a makeover. He has his mop of frizzy, red hair cut into a cropped style, short on the sides with a little bit of curly length on top. He almost does a box job with his hair colour, but when he lets this slip to one of his colleagues she insists he visit her stylist to have his hair professionally dyed. He's glad he did. They settle on a deep reddish brown that makes Kyle still feel like himself, while also in disguise. He just really hopes no one in work ever finds out about his, uh, 'moonlighting'. But that's where the mask comes in. The first mask he purchases is a tight, black leather gimp mask that a lot of his customers appreciated (Kyle hesitates to call them clients. Clients are people you do business with for an extended period of time, clients are the serious people in fancy suits who spend hours in his office's conference room. Customers are people who may only visit a store once to buy a pack of gum, or a newspaper and you probably never see them again. You forget they exist). Kyle, however, does not appreciate the mask. It makes him feel claustrophobic and overheated, but he soon finds the perfect one. A sleek, black mask that you would probably find at a masquerade ball, except without any embellishment, or glitter, or feathers, and it ties into a neat bow at the back of his head. He also needs a pseudonym. Most of his competition use short, monosyllabic names, like Hal, or Mal, or Sal. Intentionally mismatched, Kyle thinks, considering all these guys are ripped twenty-somethings with the names of middle-aged dads. Kyle decides to follow in the tradition, and go by 'Val.'

It really does feel like an alter ego, and ironically, the mask and the fake name makes him feel more liberated than ever. He's been doing this for four months nightly now, and he becomes more and more comfortable with each session. He feels like he's finally achieving that practical, utilitarian perspective that Kenny achieved so long ago. But his face still warms and his stomach still twists when a customer murmurs how attractive they think Kyle is or what they would like to do to him as they stroke themselves. He hopes he never loses that, because while this is ultimately for financial gain he doesn't have much time for dating so it's nice to just get off with someone, even if he's just masturbating in front of a camera a lot of the time. But it is indeed as lucrative as Kenny said, and Kyle is noticing a marked improvement in his finances. The dread he feels when he opens his banking app is slowly disappearing, even if he has used some of his money to pay for a collection of sex toys, but it's technically a business expense. He is building an online brand, of sorts. This is exactly the kind of utilitarian perspective he needs. This isn’t about feelings, or love. His body can be sacred when he’s on a date, when he finally meets someone, but in front of the webcam it is a product he’s selling, and frankly, he sells it fucking well.

If he can go by the noises his customer is making right now at least. He came a few seconds ago, but is still moaning and gasping in the aftermath, sounding startled as well as relieved. Granted, this dude is in his 60s and is probably just stoked that he’s still capable of maintaining an erection and ejaculating at all. But right now, Kyle doesn’t care that he’s a point to prove. He just wants to cum himself. He bucks up into his hand a couple of times, hips raising higher with each thrust. He moans, embellished sure, but they turn Kyle on just as much as they turn on any customer. He finally cums, dick still pointing at the camera so the customer can get a good view of him blowing his load. Kyle blinks his eyes open, catching his breath. He feels warm cum sliding over his knuckles.

“That was great…” his customer exhales, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Thank you…”

Kyle gulps, shooting the camera a small, coy smile before he cleans himself up. Once he’s done, he brings the laptop close to him and clicks on the chat box. The whole thing only lasted about twenty minutes. Kyle is concerned about this guy getting his money’s worth.

wanna go again?”

He watches his customer read the message.

“Oh no… no, I’d love to but I’m beat,” he replies, tucking his dick back in his pants. He chuckles. “You young men have so much stamina. I miss it…”

Kyle smothers his grimace when he remembers this guy is definitely old enough to be his father, and instead smiles in acknowledgement.

“I appreciate it though. It’s been very, um, difficult for me lately, with my divorce…” his eyes wander his keyboard, and he nods wistfully to himself. “It can get very lonely.” He smiles at Kyle. “So, thank you again.”

Kyle usually does his best to avoid talking during his sessions, to safeguard his privacy and to keep a healthy level of detachment. But his heart clenches a little when he hears this guy talk, and he doesn’t want to add to his feeling of isolation. He nods, and smiles.

“It’s okay…”

“It’s funny, I felt lonely even with an amazing wife, and wonderful children, and I still feel lonely now. Even when I’ve got what I always wanted. I just don’t know what to do with all this freedom. I didn’t realise it would be so hard…” he chuckles ruefully, shaking his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you-”

“No, it’s fine,” Kyle cuts in, scrambling for any reassurance he can give. “I, uh, hope you find what you’re looking for.” He nods sympathetically. “It’s tough.”

His customer smirks. 

“Even for young, attractive men like you?”

Kyle snickers, ducks his head. Post-orgasm he finds compliments from his customers more uncomfortable than emboldening.

“Yeah, I guess…”

His customer shifts on his bed, clearing his throat and leaning a little closer to the camera.

“Would you ever want to…”

Dread crawls over Kyle’s skin, and his eyes widen.

“Oh no...” He immediately feels awful, frowning. “No, I'm sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he replies, waving off Kyle’s rejection and trying to smile. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Kyle purses his lips, rubs them together as he thinks of a softer blow.

“I just don’t date people I chat with here…”

His customer nods.

“Perfectly understandable… maybe I’ll see you here sometime?”

Kyle smiles tightly, and nods. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Have a good night.”

Kyle offers another tight smile, and the customer disappears from the screen. 

It's a typical Tuesday evening for Kyle. He has his laptop resting on the foot of his bed, and he's standing in front of it fully dressed. The screen is sliced in half. One half shows Kyle, waiting with fake coyness for more people to enter the chat, the other half shows a chatroom waiting for bids. He fiddles with a button on his shirt, glancing at messages from the early-comers who are growing impatient, demanding he just get naked already. Thirty people have joined the chat, the limit for an 'auction' like this. Without a word, he starts. He unbuckles his belt, and the offers come rolling in. $100, $200, $300. The baseline Kyle is used to. The more clothes he sheds, the higher they'll bid.

He drops the belt to the floor and the bids increase. $400, $500, $600. He begins unbuttoning his shirt (he stays in his shirt and trousers that he wears to work. When he's wearing the masks, shirts are easier to take off than sweaters. Plus, unbuttoning a shirt is way sexier), and has popped open the third button when a user named 'ETC1000' joins the chat and makes an opening bid of $800. Kyle blinks, startled. It seems to rumble the other customers, and even though Kyle always keeps an eye on the bidding, his eyes are glued to the screen to see what this mysterious bidder will offer next.

He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, and is pulling it from his shoulders and letting it slide off his arms when ETC1000 bids $1,000. About six or seven people drop out as soon as they make their first bid, but Kyle can see the numbers dwindling. It looks like ETC1000 is the person he's going to be spending his night with. He undoes the button of his trousers and tugs down his zipper, and ETC1000 increases his bid to $1,500 before Kyle even pulls them down. Eleven people have now dropped out, and the remaining twelve are still trying to match him. Kyle hooks his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and ETC1000 bids $2,000. Kyle pulls his underwear down and kicks them off his ankles, watching the other customers either drop out or bid for less. Nobody bids higher than $2,000 and Kyle accepts his offer.

There's a thirty second countdown before the video chat starts, and as Kyle gets into position on his bed, his mind is racing with thoughts of this generous, affluent stranger who thinks Kyle is worth so much. It's definitely one of the highest offers he's ever accepted. Kyle gets into the normal position. Pillow propped against his headboard, leaning back with his legs spread. He watches the clock count down until it gets to one second, and his intrigue curdles into blood-freezing panic when he sees Eric Cartman grinning at him, drink in hand in his Patrick Bateman-esque apartment. His hair is as neat as his scotch, and he's still in what Kyle assumes is his work attire.

Kyle is waiting for the realisation, for the shock, for the pure, sadistic delight to spread across Cartman's face as he declares he's going to tell everyone back home about this. That Kyle, the straight-A student, the valedictorian, the fancy paralegal in New York is a fucking cam guy. Kyle is already preparing for how he will deal with all this on his next visit home, if he can even return to South Park after this, but Cartman says nothing. He just studies his naked body with approval, with hunger.

"Okay, this is a much better angle."

Maybe he really doesn't recognise him. Kyle is frozen. He feels like he's having an out of body experience, like he's just a ghost looking down at this situation and fretting over what the best course of action would be. Should he back out? Just log off, shut his laptop down and hope Cartman never visits the site again? Should he curse him out? But would that only draw suspicion, and actually reveal his identity to Cartman who seems none the wiser? But even if Cartman is oblivious, could Kyle even live with himself? Still, it's $2,000...

Cartman's eyebrows raise, and he leans forward.

"Hey, man, can you hear me?"

Kyle nods, mouth still clamped shut. He has to pull himself together. He can do this. What Cartman doesn't know can't hurt him, or Kyle, especially if he treats him like any other customer. Unlike his other customers though, Cartman isn't jerking off. He's just sat on his couch with a noticeable boner in his pants.

"Say something," he commands.

Oh fuck.

He'll definitely reveal himself if he talks.

Cartman arches an eyebrow and snorts.

"Fuck, is this your first time? It's not a big deal if it is. I'm into that." He seems to be reading the top of the screen. "What's with the chick's name?"

"It's not a chick's name," Kyle replies, in the first voice he can think of. It's raspy, like an adult version of the Human Kite. He prays it won't sound familiar to Cartman.

Cartman blinks in surprise, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, it talks! Um, and last I checked, Val was a girl's name."

Kyle frowns.

"It's not my real name. Don't bother asking what it is," he rushes to add.

Cartman snickers.

"I'm not going to." He bites his lip and rakes his gaze over Kyle.

Kyle prickles from head to toe at the following realisations: Cartman's eyes are wandering all over him. Cartman is paying to look at him naked, and god knows what else. But Kyle knows what else, this isn't his first fucking rodeo after all.

"How much do you have to smoke a day to get a voice like that?"

The tips of Kyle's ears burn.

"I don't smoke..."

Cartman doesn't lose that goading grin. It's practically seared into his face. Kyle is sure it will be seared into his mind too, especially accompanied with his dark, contemplative eyes. They're twisting Kyle's stomach in knots.

"Sure, you don't. That's just all-natural, right?" He sighs. "Fuck it." He sets his drink aside and sits up, pulling his laptop closer. "I wanna know what you sound like with your hand on your cock."

Kyle wants to gag when he hears Cartman demand that, in a low, ragged voice, but instead he gulps. He hopes Cartman doesn't notice it, but he's never had someone look at him so closely, so intently before, not even other customers. Kyle's sure Cartman saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat so tellingly, and it probably made his dick twitch in his pants. He shuts his eyes briefly as he reaches in between his legs. He feels like he's moving in slow motion. When he opens his eyes again, Cartman is watching with lips parted. His laboured breathing is audible, twinned with Kyle's. He wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself tentatively and trying to bite back any noises. Usually, he has to embellish his moans, whimpers, and groans but he's smothering them now. His cock hardens in his hand, and his hips are twitching. He's aching to groan, and suppressing them only succeeds in making his breathing terser, more ragged through his nose, humming choked-off groans.

"Faster..." Cartman murmurs.

Kyle's face is on fire. He cracks an eye open and sees that Cartman is just stroking at himself through his pants. He would feel a lot better if he got his dick out, at least that would tip the power balance more equally. Even if Kyle knows that's not exactly what Cartman paid for.

Kyle opens his mouth, panting.

"Not until you get your dick out too..." he realises he's gonna have to play up to Cartman's expectations, flatter him. He closes his eyes, picks up his pace just a tad. "I wanna see it..." he moans. "I wanna see your big, meaty cock..."

He doesn't think he's ever hated himself more, but it gets Cartman to comply. Kyle keeps his eyes on Cartman's hands as he undoes his pants, opens his fly and pulls out his cock. It's not huge, but it's thick. So thick that Kyle's mouth grows heavy and his first thought is how it would feel in his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut to push out that thought immediately. This is Val thinking, not him. He starts jerking off hard and fast, hips keening to his hand, and he moans. His skin feels hot and dewy with sweat.

Cartman chuckles, low and satisfied.

"You like it, huh?"

Kyle nods.


"Fuck yeah..." Cartman mutters. When Kyle opens his eyes, he sees Cartman is jerking off vigorously. "Thinking about it inside you? Stretching that tight, little hole of yours?"

"Mmhmm... " Kyle whimpers, chewing his lip. He is indeed thinking about how it would feel if Cartman was fucking him, but only because he forced the image into his head.

Cartman doesn't press for more, but the lack of conversation is filled with unsynchronised pants, and the occasional groan and whimper. Kyle is used to the watered down, crackled noise through a computer screen, but Cartman's noises really do raise the hairs on the nape of his neck, like he's moaning directly into his ear.

"You got toys there, right?" he asks.

Kyle nods, mouth heavy and agape. He feels hazier than he's ever felt during these sessions.

"Get the biggest vibrator you have..."

Kyle sits up, and leans across his bed to reach into his nightstand. He has amassed an impressive vibrator/dildo collection, but admittedly the biggest one he's ever purchased is one he doesn't use very often. Eight inches, and thicker than Cartman, it's one that Kyle has experienced more discomfort with than pleasure. But he has a feeling that if he picked out one of his favourite vibrators, Cartman would not be satisfied. While he's there, he also reaches for his lube. He sits back in front of the laptop, slathering his fingers with it. Cartman is still jerking off and watching as intently as before. Kyle lies back, and spreads his legs. He reaches in between them with his wet hand.


He looks up at the sound of Cartman's interjection.

"Play with your balls first... with your wet hand... don't stop jerking off..."

Kyle obeys, stroking his balls with his wet hand while wrapping his hand around the base of his cock with the other. He lifts his cock, so the head is pointing directly up at him. It gives Cartman a good view of him massaging his balls, and he moves his hand in short, quick motions at the base, barely paying any attention to his shaft.

Cartman's lips part in a pleased smile. His eyes are gleaming.

"That's it..." he whispers, his head dropping back with a breathy moan. "That looks so good..."

It feels good too. He's never paid this much attention to his balls before, nor has any romantic partner, nor anybody else he's had a session with. There's a tight pressure building in his gut that he hasn't experienced before. His whole body is tensing, face scrunching up and he bites down on his bottom lip. His hips are quivering, his heavy balls drawing tighter and tighter beneath his quick, desperate fingers. He gasps, and then cries out when he cums, splattering all over his belly. His body jerks in the aftermath, flopping like a fish out of water. He's pulled out of his post-orgasm haze by Cartman snickering. He blinks his bleary eyes open and sees how delighted Cartman is. His cheeks are flushed, and his dark eyes are boring into him.

"That felt good, huh?"

Kyle nods, head falling back against the pillow.

Cartman licks his lips, smile wilting at the corners.

"Taste your cum..."

Kyle swipes some semen off his belly, and sucks it off his fingers. 

"How does it taste?" Cartman asks, part-taunt, part burning question.

"It tastes..." Kyle moans, licking the rest off his fingers while he searches for an appropriate adjective. "Nice..."

Cartman groans, smile unfurling across his face and he strokes his cock rapidly.

"Yeah, I'll fucking bet it does, you little slut..." his voice is gravelly, taut. "Have some more..."

Kyle swipes some off the sensitive head of his cock. He whimpers, and he can hear Cartman snickering. It tastes different there, mingled with pre-cum.

"Come on, savour it. You can suck harder than that..."

Kyle shoves his fingers in deeper, until he's swallowed all the cum and he's basically fucking his throat. He gags when his teeth scrape against his knuckles, lurching forward and removing them from his mouth. Cartman barks with laughter.

"I didn't think you'd have a gag reflex..."

Kyle scowls.

"Of course I have a fucking gag reflex..."

"How else would you choke on my big, fat cock, right?"

"Ha-ha," Kyle replies, rolling his eyes.

"And speaking of my big, fat cock, get that vibrator in your ass."

Kyle resists the urge to retort, reaching for the lube and slathering some more on his fingers.

"I didn't say you could do that."

"I don't need your permission to prep myself."

"When I'm paying you two thousand dollars I think you do. Besides, your fingers are adequately lubricated."

"Not for this!" Kyle replies, holding up the vibrator to the camera.

Cartman's eyes almost pop out of his head. If he was a cartoon, Kyle is sure they would have, and he would definitely be drooling profusely.

"Fuck..." he whispers, before shaking his head. "Okay, whatever, just hurry... " He sits back, picking up pace on his cock once more. "I can't wait to see you fuck yourself with that."

Kyle shifts a little on the bed, spreading his legs again and he shoves one finger inside him, before quickly adding a second. He can find his prostate in record time now, a skill that he can't wait to use in, you know, real life sex. He smiles, biting his lip and writhing. A long, satisfied sigh escapes through his nose.

Cartman is leaning so close to the camera, it's like he's trying to climb through the screen. Kyle doesn't try too hard to fight the thought of Cartman on top of him as he plays with his prostate.

"Add a third..." he commands.

Kyle does, mouth falling open with a gasp. His brows are furrowed.

"Fuck... " Cartman moans. "You like stretching yourself out for me? For that monster fucking vibrator? Gonna take it all the way to the hilt, huh?"

Kyle nods, eyes squeezed shut, writhing on his bed.

"Put it in now..."

Kyle slips his fingers out. He feels stretched, but looking at the vibrator he's not sure if it's enough. He turns it on and sets it to the second highest intensity to be kind to himself. He chokes as he presses it against his asshole. The vibration sends a tingling, soothing feeling down his legs and sends blood rushing to his already chubby cock. He cries out when he starts pushing the vibrator in deeper, his hole stretching wider and wider to accommodate its girth. His eyes are squeezed shut so hard he can feel his eyelashes against his cheeks, and his whole body is quivering. His heart is pounding, his stomach clenching.

"Aaah, fuck..." Cartman moans, and it gets Kyle to pause. He watches, enthralled as Cartman's hand moves in a blur over his red, sore cock. "You look f-f-fucking incredible... aaah- aaah!"

Kyle blinks, watching with exhilarated breaths as Cartman cums. With each broken moan another white arch spills into his hand. Kyle's mouth twitches, uneasy arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. Cartman is panting heavily, not looking at Kyle. He's actually about to ask if he's alright, before he looks up with a red face, those same dark eyes, and something resembling a snarl.

"Keep going," he pants. "Don't you dare stop."

Kyle thinks that Cartman probably wasn't ready to cum yet, and that he's actually disappointed. He wants to cheer him up, he is paying him two grand, after all.

"Fuck you." Kyle spits. He whines, and throws his head back, anguished. "I don't know if I can take it."

He cracks an eye open to see Cartman's eyes glinting again, stroking at his cock almost absent-mindedly. It's working.

"Yes, you can." He grins. "I fucking want you to. So you can take all of it."

Kyle nods, whimpering more than is necessary as he pushes more of the vibrator inside him. His mouth falls open the further he goes, and his hole is stinging the wider he's stretched.

"More..." Cartman commands, masturbating in earnest. "Don't stop... you can take it..."

Kyle cries out when he finds his prostate. His balls draw tighter, and he pumps harder at his swollen, stiff cock, all aided by the delightful vibration travelling through his body, melting his insides. He thrashes his head around like it's too much, like he doesn't want it, and whines through gritted teeth.

"You're gonna break me..." he sobs.

"You fucking love it," Cartman taunts. "I can tell. You love being stretched. You love being filled up. Don't stop until you cum..."

Kyle has no problem with doing that. They both jerk off furiously, and Kyle cums with a series of incoherent sobs that consist of strings of 'fuck' and 'yes.' It's probably the longest orgasm he's ever had and leaves his belly and chest coated with cum. Tears form in the creases of his eyes and trail down his cheeks, and he's flopping about on the bed again. He tries to fuck himself even more on the vibrator, grinding on it as he rides out his orgasm. When he opens his burning, wet eyes he sees that Cartman has made a mess of his pants, and he's whining in the aftermath. He totally missed Cartman's orgasm while he was revelling in his own. As he descends from his high he is greeted by an uneasy combination of anxiety and arousal at what they just did, and he watches Cartman clean himself up in silence.

"That... that was fucking great." Cartman chuckles, clearly content. He smiles at him. "Thanks for that."

Kyle has gone mute again. Reality robbing him of his words. He just nods, and watches Cartman check his phone.

"I've gotta go," he says apologetically.  "I have dinner plans."

All Kyle can do is nod. Cartman just snickers, raking his gaze over him like he did at the beginning of their session.

"Going all silent on me again, huh? Well, have a good night..." he smiles. "Val."

Cartman logs off, and once his image has disappeared, Kyle throws his laptop to the foot of the bed. He brings his knees to his chest and stares at the thing like it's cursed, like it somehow embodied him with some evil spirit that made him think it was acceptable, and fucking hot to masturbate in front of Eric Cartman. He just sits there for a while, trying to fight off a panic attack, unable to move, and unable to move on from recent events, playing over and over in his mind. This is the first time in a long time he's felt dirty doing this, not just because of who it was with, but because of how much he enjoyed it.

He gets off the bed and limps to the shower, hoping to find clarity, and sanity, and at least a way to feel purified there, but it's no use. He still can't stop thinking about Cartman; obsessing over every detail of his eyes, his smile, his cock, what he wanted, the noises he makes when he cums, and if he'll ever find out who Val really is. When he returns to his room, towel wrapped around his waist, he sees that he has a notification informing him of the $2,000 going into his bank account. It makes him feel mildly better. At least this wasn't all for nothing. He remembers he left his laptop on, and that he's still logged in to the site.

His heart leaps into his throat when he sees he has a message from Cartman. He's dreading opening the message, but also can't open it fast enough.

"Thanks again for tonight. I want to see you tomorrow too. I'll pay 20 next time."

Kyle stands up straight, reeling. He can't believe Cartman would actually pay that much for him. It's tempting, really tempting, but is it worth the risk? Or the blow to his dignity? But he tries to think like Kenny would, like Val would. This has nothing to do with dignity, and all about practicality and opportunity. Should Kyle really pass up $20,000 for video sex that he knows he's going to enjoy despite himself? Besides, it does feel a little good to know that Cartman is unwittingly giving him all this cash. Literal karmic payback. Kyle sighs, straightens his shoulders.

"Sure. See you tomorrow at the same time."

Looks like he has a client, after all.

Kyle is embarrassed to admit that all he's thought about all day is chatting with Cartman.

He tells himself it's because he's going to be $20,000 richer by the end of the night, and that certainly is a big factor to his excitement, but that doesn't really explain the dirty daydreams, or the butterflies filling his stomach to the brim as he sits on his bed and turns his laptop on. When he logs on, a heady feeling of relief crashes over him when he sees that Cartman is online too. It takes mere seconds for ETC1000 to invite him to video chat, and soon the image of Cartman floods his screen. Just like Kyle, he's dressed in his work attire and also lounging on his bed. His trousers are unbuckled, and he has one hand tucked into his pants.

"Hey..." Kyle smiles, in the raspy, gravelly voice of before.

"Hi." Cartman grins. He looks Kyle over as usual, but then frowns. "Why aren't you naked yet?"

Kyle has never started these sessions fully naked. He has to disrobe with the camera on him to get in the zone, to ease himself in. Besides, what's the incentive for the customers to pay him if every chat started with him naked, on his back, fucking himself with a vibrator, or jerking off?

"Because stripping is all part of it," he replies.

"Yeah, when there are other guys offering you money. I've paid for the privilege of seeing you naked."

Kyle blinks behind the mask, and he smirks at Cartman's choice of words.

"Privilege, huh?"

Cartman rolls his eyes.

"Nobody would do this if there wasn't a little part of them that thought they were hot. So come on, get on with it." He shifts on his bed, and tucks his hand deeper into his pants. "I'm a very busy man."

Kyle snorts.

"So busy that you can spend your evenings hanging out with me?" he asks, but slides off the bed and moves the laptop anyway.

"Exactly. I don't have time to date anyone."

Kyle stands in front of the laptop, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt like he usually would when he's waiting for the chat room to fill up, but the screen only shows Cartman's gaze boring into him.

"I think I'll go a little slower tonight..." he teases. "So you can really savour it..."

Cartman doesn't laugh, but Kyle can tell a smirk is dying to creep across his lips.

"You're gonna go as fast as I tell you to go. Clothes off now."

Kyle falls back to his usual routine. He starts with unbuckling his belt, pulling his shirt out of his pants. Despite what Cartman said, he does begin unbuttoning his shirt slowly, gently pushing the buttons out of their holes. His eyes are trained on Cartman as he's doing it, and he's totally preoccupied with Kyle, chewing his lip contemplatively as he palms at his bulge. When every button is undone, Kyle pulls it from his shoulders with lax, easy movements, like he's yawning and stretching in the morning. The shirt falls off his arms and lands on the floor behind him.

"Too slow?" he asks, never sounding so coy.

"No..." Cartman replies, voice low and ragged. "No, it's fine. Keep going..."

Kyle unbuckles his pants a little quicker. They drop to the floor and he kicks them off his ankles. He reaches for his boxers and is just about to pull them down when Cartman interrupts him.

"Turn around," he commands. He's palming himself rough and fast through his underwear. "Let me see your ass."

Kyle swivels on his toes so he's facing the laptop profile. He pulls his underwear down over his ass so the waistband is resting at the bottom of his cheeks. It's a very flattering angle, and he's unsurprised when a choked-off moan escapes Cartman's mouth. His head tips back, and he pulls his cock out of his underwear to jerk off. Kyle decides to not do anything further unless instructed, because Cartman really seems to be enjoying the view.

"Wait, what's that scar?"

"Huh?" Kyle asks, not so smug anymore.

Cartman jerks his head, frowning but still masturbating.

"The scar..." he's a tad out of breath. "Near your hip..."

Kyle glances at the scar, a long, white ribbon that curves over his hipbone. It's similar to a scar that Kyle knows Cartman has. His gut clenches with anxiety, never did he think that this would be what gives him away. Their childhood was filled with so much adventure, so much stuff, so much trauma, that a life-saving operation just kind of blurs into the background of all the other insane, emotionally exhausting shit that happened to him and his friends. Really, how did he think he'd ever escape Cartman when a part of him has been inside his body since he was eight years old?

"Oh, uh, it's just..." he gulps, figuring that if he can play it cool enough he can get away with the honest answer. "I had a kidney transplant when I was younger."

"Oh..." Cartman nods. "You know, I donated a kidney when I was a kid."

Kyle blinks, and hopes it comes across as genuine intrigue.

Play it cool.


"Well, no, technically it was stolen from me."

Kyle can't help but snort. He rolls his eyes.


"It was!" Cartman sighs, before he's distracted by Kyle's bare ass, and he resumes stroking his cock. "Whatever, I'd totally bend you over my knee and spank you with your belt if I was there."

Kyle chuckles, relieved. He can practically feel the tension sliding off him.

"I'm not spanking myself with my belt."

"Oh, that would be absolutely no fun for me."

Kyle gives it a couple more seconds before he rids himself of his underwear. Cartman doesn't seem to mind, grinning and jerking off leisurely.

"That's better. Get on the bed, and I want you to put your cock as close to the camera as possible."

Kyle's eyebrows furrow at the request, mostly because he is unsure how he's going to achieve that. He climbs on the bed, sitting on his knees and straddling his laptop, adjusting the screen so the camera is pointing directly at his cock. He's unable to see how it looks. In fact, all he can see is his dick so he assumes he's done a good job.

"Now what?" he asks, lowering his chin although they can't see each other's faces.

"Touch yourself..."

Kyle obeys. His cock is already a little stiff from the strip-tease, and he encourages his boner with brisk strokes.

"We're gonna do a little roleplay, okay?" Cartman's ragged voice explains from under him. If he really was under him, his breath would be brushing against Kyle's thighs, his groin. It makes his dick twitch in his hand. "I want you to imagine... I'm on my knees in front of you."

Kyle closes his eyes to better imagine it, but it's not hard. The last time he saw Cartman in person, not on social media, not via a webcam, was during winter break of their freshman year of college. They were at a house party Bebe was throwing, and in Kyle's memory, he's stood outside with Stan, Cartman, and Kenny. It's snowing, and they're illuminated only by Christmas lights, and the lights inside Bebe's house. Cartman and Kenny were smoking, and Stan and Kyle had chatted to them until they decided it was too cold to stay outside talking to them.

In his revised memory, Kenny puts out his cigarette and he and Stan decide it's too cold. They return to the party and leave Kyle alone with Cartman. With no warning, Cartman drops to his knees. His eyes are dark with arousal, a little glassy from alcohol, and his cheeks are flushed due to the unforgiving South Park winter. Kyle gulps.

"You're holding your cock up to my face... you're rock hard... I'm jerking off already... the thought of sucking your full, juicy cock is driving me crazy... but I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want..."

Kyle can see it. His hard cock right in front of Cartman's face. He imagines Cartman's mouth hanging open, his eyes almost crossing as he stares at it, and in reality Kyle smothers a laugh. Cartman's hand is shoved into his jeans, and Kyle can tell how eagerly he's jerking off by the sound of his hand rubbing against the cotton, the cotton rubbing against the denim. He tips his head back, whimpering, and jerks off just as enthusiastically.

"I, uh, put my hand in your hair and tug it a little..." he clears his throat, but his voice is still threadbare. "And, um, I move my hand further up my shaft and squeeze so... s-s-so some precum leaks out and I... rub it all over your mouth... coating your lips..."

"Fuck... " Cartman gasps. "F-f-fuck it tastes so good... so warm... I lick my lips... I lick the head of your cock..."

Kyle shudders. His cock is throbbing in his hand, and he moans.

"Do you like that?"

Kyle nods, eyes squeezing shut.

"Uh-huh. I want you to put it in your mouth..."

"I start sucking at the head... and you pull my hair, a-a-and me push me down, making me take more of you... I suck you off hard and fast..."

While Cartman's vivid description is aiding his fantasy, the fact that he can hear him talking ruins the illusion when Kyle is imagining his head bobbing up and down beneath his palm, and his dick filling his mouth.

"I'm pretty sure you can't talk anymore," he points out a little testily.

Cartman snorts, chuckles.

"Right, now you're fucking my throat..."

Kyle chokes on the high gasp that leaves his lips. He starts thrusting into his own hand as he imagines that he's actually thrusting into Cartman's mouth. He reaches his hand out, expecting to feel soft, chestnut hair between his fingers but he only grasps at thin air. He blinks his eyes open, glad that Cartman didn't see that, and just grips the corner of his laptop instead.

"Keep talking," he demands. "Tell me how it feels to have your dick in my throat..."

"I'm pulling at your hair... your mouth is so hot, a-a-and tight around my dick... my - fuck - m-m-my cock is filling your entire mouth, rubbing against the roof of your mouth, against the back of your throat..."

Cartman snickers lowly in approval.

"Fuck yeah, that's it. I can practically fucking taste you... you're gonna cum down my throat, huh? Gonna make me choke on you?"

"N-n-no..." Kyle pants. There's only one thing he wants to do to the Cartman in his head; the one with cheeks streaked red; drooling a little; moaning, muffled, around his dick. "No, I'm gonna cum in your face..."

"Do it."

Those two words send Kyle over the edge. He sits back, looking at the screen to see Cartman jerking off just as furiously as Kyle is. Kyle keeps his eyes on him as he cums with a series of broken moans, pumping cum all over the screen, all over Cartman's face. Kyle sits back on his heels, panting, and sweating with his head thrown back to the ceiling. He cracks an eye open when he hears Cartman laugh. His cum slides down the screen, and reveals his amused, delighted grin. Kyle feels a different kind of flushed, and he grabs some tissues from his nightstand.

"God damn it..." he mutters, cleaning the screen. Some if it has pooled at the bottom. "If my laptop breaks because of what we just did I swear-"

"Relax, I'll buy you a new one," Cartman laughs. "Or I can suck you off for real?"

Kyle pulls back, startled by the offer. It's never occurred to him that Cartman would want that, but doing this in real life is an impossibility.

"We'll call it even," he offers instead.

"No, we'll call it even when I cum too. Lie down. Get your asshole as close to the camera as possible. I want a good view."

"Am I gonna like where this is going?" Kyle asks, as he throws the tissue aside and turns the laptop around.

"We'll see," Cartman replies, though he sounds pretty confident. "You've had your fun."

Kyle lies on his back with legs spread, although this is probably the closest he's ever been to the camera. He's practically sitting on the keyboard. He decides he's not elevated enough, so grabs a pillow and slides it under his ass.

"Is that good?"

"Yeah, it's perfect," Cartman replies, voice shaky and hungry. "Just lift your legs and hold them up over your head."

Kyle grips the back of his thighs and lifts his legs up and over his head. His ass is raised in the air, and how long he can keep this position without his legs aching, trembling, or slipping from his grip will be a true test of his fitness regime. Again, the position he's in means he can't see Cartman at all, unless he cranes his neck and looks between his legs.

"That's it..." Cartman murmurs. "That looks so fucking good..." Kyle can hear the relentless slap of his skin as he masturbates. It's soon accompanied by a frustrated, desperate grunt. His voice is gravelly. "I'd go crazy if I was there with you. I'd wrap your legs around my shoulders and fuck you with my tongue, my fingers, my cock... you'd like that, right? You'd love someone to play with your tight, little hole, wouldn't you? Fucking you, and pounding into you..."

Kyle's cock twitches at Cartman's words, and the warm, clenching sensation of arousal seems to catch in his throat when he's contorted into this almost upside-down position. He moans, eyes closed.

"Mmhm, I'd love it so much..."

He doesn't imagine the Cartman he last saw in person doing all the things described, he imagines it's this Cartman. This Cartman with his neat, perfectly styled hair that falls in front of his brow in a way that's very attractive when he gets all worked up; this Cartman who cleans up remarkably well. Kyle imagines this Cartman wrapping his legs around his shoulders, fingers digging into his thighs and burying into his ass, spending all night between his legs until Kyle is sore, stretched, and satisfied.

"I'd put my mouth all over you, shove my tongue in your hole, then my fingers, and then I'd shove my cock balls deep inside you. Even when I'm buried deep inside you, even when your head is thumping against the headboard, you'll be clawing at me, begging me for more, fucking yourself on my cock because you just wanna be impaled... "

Cartman suddenly moans, long and loud, and Kyle guesses that means he just came. His own cock is red and chubby, pointing directly at him, almost accusingly, as if it's mad at Kyle for neglecting it. He hopes to remedy that soon. He sits up, and his muscles seem to sigh with gratitude. The grooves of his fingers are embedded in his thighs.

"Damn..." Cartman sighs. Kyle notices he's smiling to himself as he cleans himself up.

He chuckles in agreement.

"You've really got a way with words."

"No, I've got a way with my dick."

Kyle snorts.

"I don't doubt it."

"Get that vibrator again," Cartman requests, with an encouraging nod. "I wanna see you stretched out for real..."

Kyle doesn't need to be asked twice. All that talk of playing with his asshole has got him in the mood, and after last night he is actually excited to use that vibrator again.

After they've both reached their climaxes, and are cleaning up, Kyle is surprised to find that Cartman hasn't announced any dinner plans, and doesn't seem to be going anywhere soon. Kyle supposes he could probably cum a third time tonight, but any more than that and his dick will start to hurt.

"So what do you do when you're not doing this?"

Kyle blinks, the question catching him off-guard.

"What was that?"

"Your day job?" Cartman smiles, arching an eyebrow. "I know you don't do this all day although-"

"'Although you'd fucking love to, you little slut,'" Kyle cuts in with a roll of his eyes. "Is that what you were going to say?"

"Maybe I was thinking it, but no. I was going to say 'although you're probably not gonna tell me.'"

Kyle clears his throat, nodding a little as he debates whether telling Cartman anything is a good idea or not. He's going to have to lie, anyway, and withholding information may come across as suspicious, even though he's well within his rights to not say anything at all. He supposes he wants to defy Cartman's expectation that he's not going to tell him.

"No, I'll tell you. I'm a, uh, accountant."

"Really?" Cartman grins. Kyle doesn't know why it seems to amuse him so much. "I thought accountants were boring."

Kyle shrugs.

"All the more reason to have fun when we get home." His brow twitches as he considers whether he should ask Cartman the same question. If they're still new presences in each other's lives, it only seems polite. "Uh, what do you do?"

Cartman puffs his chest out a little. Kyle has to smother a laugh.

"I'm on Wall Street."

"Figures." He chuckles.

"Is it really that obvious?"

"You have to be loaded to be willing to pay me all this money... and dumb." Kyle smirks.

Cartman raises his eyebrows, more amused than offended.


"You should never take financial advice from a rich person."

"Hey! You know who told me to move all my money to the Cayman Islands? My very competent accountant! But if I ever wanna file my taxes like a good, honest citizen one year I'll be giving you a call."

"I think the business we're doing together right now is fine."

"Yeah, you couldn't wear that mask to a meeting. What's up with that, anyway?"

That's an easy one. Kyle doesn't even have to lie.

"Oh, just for privacy," he replies, fiddling with the bow in the back. "In case anyone in work finds me here."

"Smart." Cartman nods. "So can we do this tomorrow?"

"For how much?" Kyle asks, trying again to play it cool.

"I'll pay fifty next time."

Kyle's mouth drops open at the amount, at how Cartman offered it like it was nothing.


"Yeah, I'm a dumb, rich guy after all." He grins.

Kyle chuckles, rolls his eyes.

"Then sure we can. "

Cartman seems to be almost beaming with delight.

"Great, so... good night, Val."

"Good night." Kyle smiles, but it fades too quickly when Cartman is gone.

This arrangement continues nightly for a week. Kyle logs on at a specific time, to find Cartman either waiting for him, or joining him seconds later. Kyle strips, and then awaits Cartman's requests to touch himself, to fuck himself, to lie on his back, sit on his knees, lifts his legs up in the air while Cartman showers him with praise, with vivid descriptions of what he would like to do to Kyle, (or what he imagines Kyle would like do to him. He's becoming increasingly accurate). Then after, if Cartman doesn't have dinner plans, they'll talk for a little while.

Kyle is always on guard during these conversations, combing through his answers before they leave his mouth so as not to reveal anything too telling. Cartman asks him some questions about his life, nothing that he can't mask with a half-truth or a white lie. But mostly their conversations consist of eye rolls, and laughter, and the verbal sparring Kyle is used to. Their rhythm is an easy one to slip into, like a catchy song Kyle can't help but tap his foot to, or sing under his breath. He doesn't think he'll ever really forget it, but sometimes he wonders if Cartman has. South Park must seem like such a distant memory to him now, and this dynamic of theirs should be the most revealing aspect of Kyle's identity. He finds himself both relieved and offended that it hasn't clicked for Cartman yet. Kyle thinks of his hometown, and Cartman is like the sun, bright and scorching through the magnifying glass of memory. He doesn't think it's arrogant of him to assume Cartman should feel the same way.

He knows that Cartman being none the wiser is definitely for the better. The alternative would be mortifying, potentially devastating for Kyle. It would ruin this irreparably, not only robbing Kyle of some excitement, of pretty fucking great orgasms, but also of an abundant flow of cash which is increasing by the night. With Cartman's help, Kyle will soon have enough to pay off his debts and then some.

Right now, he is lying on his bed, skin sticking to the sheets and his drenched hair sticking to his forehead. The room is filled with the sound of his and Cartman's unsynchronised panting. His cock is sore and still a little stiff, while his ass is just sore. A couple of vibrators - including Cartman's favourite - are still out on his nightstand. He wanted something different tonight, but couldn't choose so told Kyle to test a couple out before deciding, obviously, on his favourite vibrator for the finale. 

"Listen," Cartman says, still breathless. He's tucking his dick back into his pants. "I want you to order something, and I'll pay for it."

Kyle blinks, still hazy and catching his breath.

"Um... sure," he replies, bringing his laptop closer and placing it on his bare lap. "What is it?"

"I'll send you the link."

A chat icon pops up in the corner of Kyle's screen. When he clicks on it, he sees that Cartman has sent him a link which takes him to a sex toy website, and a page for a vibrating cock ring and butt plug.

"You haven't already got one, have you?" Cartman asks, eagerness brimming in his voice.

"No..." Kyle replies, gulping to disguise his own intrigue. He's become less nervous for what Cartman has in store for their sessions now. If anything makes him nervous it's how much he likes following Cartman's instructions. He often wonders if this is how he behaves with his partners in real life.

"Good." His voice is unabashedly ragged now. "I really wanna see you wear this one."

"When do you want it to arrive?" Kyle asks, already adding it to his basket.

"I want you to be wearing it before we start talking tomorrow."

Kyle obeys, clicking next day delivery and filling out his shipping and billing information.

"Is this gonna be a regular thing?" he smirks, Cartman returning to his screen. "Should I be expecting presents every day?"

"I can do that." Cartman chuckles. "It'll be like a horny Hanukkah."

Kyle's stomach leaps into his throat.

"What? Hanukkah?" he gulps, trying to modulate the panic in his voice, but his mind is racing, unable to come up with a cool, coherent response. "Wh-why Hanukkah?"

Cartman shrugs, frowning.

"I don't know, because it's the only holiday I could think of where there's more than one day of presents! Plus, I just spent the last hour staring at your circumcised cock." He raises an eyebrow. "Actually, uh, are you Jewish?"

Instinctively, Kyle shakes his head. He needs to throw him off as much as possible.

"No..." his mouth is dry.

Much to his surprise, Cartman actually looks disappointed. His eyebrows droop, and he nods.

"Oh, okay..."

Kyle doesn't even know what answer Cartman was hoping for, and how he would have reacted if Kyle had responded 'yes.' He sits up and tries to nudge the subject along.

"I just think it's kinda offensive to sexualise a holiday."

Cartman perks up at the opportunity for a debate. Despite Val being a new person in his life, he has no problem being his obnoxious, antagonistic self around him, but maybe the fact that they've been so intimate with each other emboldens him? Come to think of it, Kyle isn't sure Cartman knows how to behave any other way.

"Well, we have to tolerate sexualised Mrs Claus outfits, so the Jews can deal with me being alliteratively dirty with their holiday names. I actually thought it was quite clever."

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Mrs Claus isn't a religious figure though. She's purely commercial."

Cartman grins.

"I'll have you know that Christianity and commercialism have got a pretty good thing going on."

Kyle's phone buzzes. An email confirming his order.

"It should be here by tomorrow night," he announces.

"Awesome," Cartman replies, still grinning. "I'll transfer the money to you right now. But if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go find a dreidel-shaped dildo I can get you to shove up your ass."

Kyle wrinkles his nose. That does not sound practical, or pleasurable at all, and as much as he doubts they even exist, if anyone is going to find it, Cartman will.

"I really hope you fail."

Cartman chuckles, raking his gaze over Kyle with a soft smile.

"Good night, Val."

Kyle can't help but smile too.

"Good night."

The parcel is at Kyle's door when he arrives home from work. Despite the discreet packaging, he still feels a little embarrassed that some unsuspecting mailperson had to deliver this to him. But he knows that's not the only reason he's so flushed. He doesn't know what Cartman has planned tonight, but he was very excited about the thought of Kyle wearing it, and that excitement has kind of rubbed off on him.

It's the first time he's stripped off before a session started, but Cartman did want him to be wearing it from the very beginning of the call. He wonders if that request was just a ploy to get him naked and waiting for Cartman, but kneeling on the bed with the cock ring fitted, he thinks he looks pretty good, not self-conscious at all. His cock is at half-mast already, the black, silicone ring cinched around the underside of the base, with an as-yet-to-be turned on vibrating bullet on the other side. It loops around his balls and connects to the butt plug. Sitting with his legs parted is the most comfortable position to sit in for now, and towering over the laptop on his knees definitely makes him feel less like he's in less of a vulnerable position: naked, lubed up, fitted and stretched by this contraption that his childhood frenemy/client/nightly hook-up has bought for him.

He logs on, and sees that Cartman is already trying to video call him. He accepts, and just as he hoped, the sight of him takes any arrogant quips out of Cartman's mouth. His eyebrows twitch, his lips part with delight.

"Oh fuck..." he whispers, shifting on his bed. "I've been waiting for this all day. How does it feel?"

Kyle shrugs, looks down at his cock. He felt a far more noticeable twitch when Cartman appeared on the screen.

"Alright, I guess? I haven't turned it on yet."

"Good, I wanted you to wait for me." His smile wilts, his breaths hitch, shaky and laboured. "Jesus, you look so fucking hot..." he fumbles with his belt, tugs down his fly and shoves his hands in his pants. "Turn around. Hands and knees."

Kyle moves the laptop to give Cartman a better view and so he doesn't accidentally kick it off the bed when he turns around. He gets on his elbows and knees, spreading his legs and lifting his ass in the air.

"Put a pillow underneath you... like you did before..."

Kyle obeys, reaching for a pillow and shoving it underneath him. It is more comfortable, especially when it presses his cock against his stomach.

Cartman chuckles almost mischievously.

"Fuck yeah, that's it... turn it on."

Kyle is glad he's facing away from Cartman, that his trembling can be blamed on the position he's in rather than his rising anticipation. He pokes his tongue out as he reaches in between his body and the pillow, fiddling with the little nodule on the bullet before it buzzes to life. He gasps, brow creasing and mouth falling wide open as the vibration travels up his cock, presses against his prostate in some weird feedback loop of pleasure. Kyle collapses into his mattress, gasping and whimpering, when focusing on one particular area is too much for his short-circuiting brain to handle. But he does thrust against the pillow, knowing it will make him feel all the better.

Cartman chuckles again, more smug this time.

"Feels good, huh?"

Kyle nods, cheek smushed against the mattress and eyes drifting shut.


His body is undulating, keening to the vibrations.

"Bet you're dying to hump that pillow, aren't you?"

Kyle nods, not caring if it was a rhetorical question.

"Go on..." Cartman demands, gravelly.

Kyle is quick to obey, humping the pillow with long, slow thrusts to really savour it. But as his cock grows stiffer against his stomach he starts humping the pillow harder and faster. He's huffing, and grunting, laced with choked-off, desperate moans.

"Look at you..." over the sound of the vibrations, Kyle can hear Cartman's hand slapping against his cock, quick and aggressive. "So fucking shameless... so fucking willing to bend over and show off your tight, hot ass for me... such a fucking smartass little slut and now you're stretching your hole for me, spreading your cheeks for me... you wish I was there with you?"

While Kyle could be having this much fun on his own with his new toy, he imagines Cartman fucking him doggie style; cock ring buzzing and Cartman pounding into him from behind; spreading his cheeks; fingers leaving indentions in his ass; muffling Kyle's cries into the mattress.


Kyle's face is on fire, his body stinging with sweat, with the stretch and buzz of the plug inside him. Pre-cum sticks to his belly.

"What would you be doing if I was there?"

"Unnh..." Kyle groans. His forehead is sticking to the mattress, his hot, panting breath hitting his face. He turns his head to the side. "Fucking myself on your cock..."

"Yeah, that's fucking right..." Kyle can imagine him spitting as he says it. "I'd be fucking you right into that pillow. I'd be buried so deep inside you that my balls would be smacking against you but that still wouldn't be enough... you'd be trying to impale yourself on my cock anyway because you love it so much... you wish it was inside you right now, don't you?"

Kyle nods with a broken cry, thrusting harder into the pillow so he can better imagine it. He twists his body, lifting one hip and gripping the pillow. He turns his head slightly, and ignores the long line of drool that connects his lip to the mattress. He presses the pillow to his crotch and humps it desperately.

"Unnh, I'm gonna cum..." he moans after a few more vigorous thrusts.

"Damn fucking right you are," Cartman gloats. "You're gonna cum thinking of my cock inside you... you're gonna cum wishing you were grinding on it... riding it..." Cartman interrupts himself with strained, anguished groans. "bouncing on it... like I know you've always wanted... you've wanted me to fucking own you since the moment we met..."

Kyle frowns, confused, but doesn't let it distract him from his mission which, right now, is to cum all over his pillow.

"But now I do own you..." Cartman growls. "Finally, I fucking have you and I can do whatever I want with you... and now you're finally gonna cum thinking of me... only me..."

Cartman is always descriptive, but he sounds almost deranged now. Frenzied, and babbling, like his train of thought has not only derailed but has burst into a fiery ball on the side of the tracks. Kyle is no fit state to question him right now though. His balls are drawing tighter, and tighter, and his whole body is clenching.

"Aaah!" he cries when he cums, ruining his pillow cover for tonight. His eyes roll back and his body is shaking. He sobs as he continues to rut forlornly against the pillow. "Aah-ahh... "

Cartman growls again, and Kyle can hear him masturbating furiously behind him.

"F-f-fuck... yes... Kyle!"  he cries. "Kyle!"

Kyle's stomach lurches into his throat and he feels like he may throw up when he hears Cartman cry out his name. He rests his hand against the headboard for support, panting and shaking with wide eyes and a mouth clamped shut. The room is spinning. He wishes he doesn't have to turn around, doesn't have to look at Cartman's face and reckon with what Cartman may know. Grimacing, he turns off the cock ring. He needs to calm down, needs to know how to best approach this and he can't do that with the ring buzzing against his shaft, and the plug buzzing against his prostate. He drops the soiled pillow, and slowly turns around, aching and tense. Cartman isn't looking at him, just cleaning his cock with a broad, satisfied grin.

"That was so good..." he sighs. He's grinning when he looks up at Kyle, and he still seems none the wiser. "You looked so fucking good..."

"What was that..." Kyle whispers. His mouth is too dry. He clears his throat. "Uh... what was that name you called out?"

Cartman blinks, a tiny dent in his brow. He shakes his head and frowns, not looking at Kyle.

"Oh, nobody um..." he looks up, lips pursed as if he's considering whether or not he should share. "Just this guy from my hometown. I had a crush on him for years." He smiles sheepishly. "I guess you just kinda remind me of him."

Kyle nods, and hopes the mask hides his wide, startled eyes. Cartman had a crush on him? For years? He supposes it makes sense with hindsight. But then again, so do a lot of things. Kyle knows Cartman was obsessed with him. But he thought it was an obsession akin to his hatred for Scott Tenorman, or ginger kids. He thought it was driven purely by a need to get back at Kyle for whatever wrong Cartman felt he had done to him, or just a general disdain for him. But this made the lingering stares, the shared smiles, the laughs at sleepovers, the impulsive hugs of comfort, or gratitude all the more confusing. Especially when Kyle was so drawn to Cartman when Stan wasn't around, when Cartman embraced his company with little resistance. Cartman wanted to hate Kyle, and Kyle wanted, felt he should hate Cartman back. But it was a voice so small that Kyle could drown it out with his castigating of Cartman's stupid, ignorant opinions, with his dirty jokes, with his conversation that was always fun. Try as he might, he could never achieve simple, pure hatred, not even with distance because it's years later, and here they are, reunited again and more compatible than Kyle realised. When he thinks of the potential they have divorced from their perceptions of each other, it depresses him a little and unsettles him even more.

Still, Cartman grins, oblivious, just wanting his money's worth.

"We're gonna have so much fun with that cock ring, aren't we?"

Kyle blinks, before smiling, determined to put this all behind him. It's easy to do when Cartman insists Kyle keeps the cock ring and butt plug on for the rest of the hour, and he cums three more times until both their dicks are sore and they're thoroughly spent. It's the first time since they started doing this that Kyle is itching to shower afterwards. He doesn't even want to contemplate the night's events when he's in there. He just wants to rid himself of that unsettling, guilty feeling and watch it circle down the drain. Needless to say, that pillow is being ejected from his bed tonight.

When he returns to his bedroom, he realises he left his laptop on in his haste. He's still logged in to the site, and much to his dread, Cartman has messaged him.

"Hey, I want you to do something else for me."

Kyle sighs, sitting on the bed. He replies: "Ok. Just send me the link if you want me to order something."

"No it's nothing like that," Cartman replies.

"I really want to meet up with you.

I can book a hotel for us this Saturday. You can wear your mask.

I just need to have you. I need to be able to touch you and fuck you for real."

Kyle is startled by the messages flooding in. It reminds him of how deranged Cartman sounded earlier, babbling about owning Kyle, and how he's wanted him for years. The dread in his stomach is yawning wide, and his mind is screaming at him what a bad idea this is.

"I'm not really a prostitute though. I don't have sex for money," he replies, before adding, "I think this would be crossing a line."

Ten seconds pass and Cartman still hasn't replied. But then he starts typing. Kyle's heart is pounding, eyes fixed to the screen.

"I'll pay you 500 grand."

Kyle freezes, the laptop almost sliding off his lap and onto the floor. It's a life-changing amount.

"Really?" It's the only response Kyle can think of.

"Yeah. I know it's not what you're used to. I'm willing to pay that."

Cartman must be really fucking loaded to give away that much money without a thought, for just a quick fuck in a hotel. And if that's the case, should Kyle really feel bad for accepting? It's a win-win. Cartman gets what he wants, and so does Kyle. The only hitch is the added risk of Kyle's alter ego being easily seen through in person. The screen, the distance between them, is a buffer protecting them from the truth. What's protecting him when that buffer is lifted? His mask? It seems like an inadequate shield.

Cartman replies before Kyle has even made up his mind. But it's the six words that destroy any rationale, any inhibition.

"I can't stop thinking about you"

Kyle gulps, prickling all over with guilt, and excitement, and a gnawing hunger. He would be a liar if he said he hasn't thought about Cartman every night, that he hasn't popped up in every daydream Kyle has had on his commute, in a boring meeting, in the shower.

"I can't stop thinking about you either."

He can do this once. He does this once and he can be satisfied. It will all be over, and Cartman will never have to know. He takes a deep, bracing breath and adds: "Ok, I'll be there."

Saturday arrives and Kyle is stepping out of an Uber and onto the street entrance of the fancy hotel Cartman booked for them. The doormen's polite expressions crack a little with confusion as they watch him step out of the car. Understandable, as he's had his mask on for the entire ride. He hoped he could get away with maybe slipping it on discreetly in the elevator, but had awful visions of running into Cartman in the lobby, bare-faced.

Kyle has been both dreading and looking forward to this evening all week. Every exchange they've had since agreeing to meet up has felt bloated with anticipation, and whenever Cartman giddily mentions it at the end of every session, Kyle has to both force a smile as well as smother the excited butterflies in his stomach. He's seen and done a lot in his young life, but this feels like the riskiest thing he has ever done. It's like putting your hand out to a tiger, and seeing how close you can get before the tiger laps at your fingers in acceptance or rips your fucking arm off.

The strange looks continue as Kyle scurries across the lobby, and gets into the elevator. Luckily, there are only two other people in the car with him and it's entirely deserted by the time he reaches his floor. Cartman sent him all the details last night. It reminded Kyle just how real this all is and kept him up. He settles himself now by reading the numbers on the doors, following them until he reaches his desired destination.

He gives the door a knock, and Cartman answers with a drink in his hand. Kyle can't remember him being this tall, can't remember there being this much of him. He rests his hand against the doorframe, and uses his other hand to lift the tumbler of scotch to his lips. His eyes are a little glassy, but Kyle doesn't think he's drunk. A grin spreads across his face.

"You made it."

Kyle doesn't reply for a couple of seconds, his throat suddenly shrinking.

"Yeah..." he croaks, before clearing his throat and trying again. It feels strange to use his raspy Val voice in person. "Hi..."

Cartman chuckles. Kyle is glad he's a little nervous too, or at least recognises how unusual this is.

"Hi." He stands aside, and jerks his head towards the inside of the room. "Come in."

Kyle rubs his lips together and nods, hands instinctively slipping behind his back as he enters the room. Nervous, childhood habit of his. He hopes it's something Cartman has forgotten. He looks over his shoulder and sees him placing a Do Not Disturb sign on the door.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks when the door clicks shut. "Take whatever you want out of the minibar."

Kyle crouches down to inspect the contents of the minibar. It's full of little bottles of wine and beer. He wrinkles his nose. They don't really seem like drinks that will settle his fluttering stomach, or calm his nerves sufficiently. He spies the bottle of scotch and another ostentatious tumbler on the cabinet above and wordlessly pours himself a drink.

He can see Cartman approaching him out of the corner of his eye, smiling with an eyebrow arched.

"You like scotch?"

Kyle doesn't, and he's reminded of that when he takes an ill-advised gulp. His face creases immediately, and he covers his mouth to smother a coughing fit.

"Not really," he croaks. "I just wanted something... harder..."

Kyle knows exactly how it sounds, and so does Cartman. His smile broadens into a wicked grin. He's moving in.

"Are you gonna make everything you say tonight sound dirty?"

Kyle smirks, shrugs.

"If you want..."

Cartman steps as close to Kyle as he can get without their bodies being pressed flush together. Kyle's breath hitches, and he hopes it's not noticeable. It feels like a kissing moment. One of the many scenarios he's played through in his head this week. He has to plan for every eventuality. It is very possible Cartman would want to kiss him, and this may be that moment. But something is stopping them. It's like the air is electric, and if they touch at all they'll be reprimanded with stinging, static shock. Kyle notices a duffel bag on a chair, and tries to put the failing moment out of its misery.

"What's with the bag?"

Cartman blinks, clearly still lingering in the moment.

"Oh, they're just things I wanted us to use tonight."

Cartman picks the bag up and places it on the cabinet. When he opens it he pulls out a laptop, a cock ring... and a green, ushanka hat pretty damn close to the one Kyle wore throughout his childhood and into his teenage years. He freezes, and his trepidation must be obvious because Cartman actually wrings the hat in his hands sheepishly.

"I wanted us to do some roleplaying."

Kyle nods, jaw pulled tight.

"Okay, so I want you to hear this hat," he explains, looking into Kyle's eyes. It sounds like his breath is hitched too. "You're gonna call me 'Eric,' and I'm gonna call you, uh... 'Kyle.' We're gonna pretend we're in your teenage bedroom. I want you to watch the video on the laptop and jerk off. I'm gonna be watching from the closet. You're gonna jerk off until I come out."

"Alright." Kyle nods, stomach clenching. "I can do that."

Cartman smiles, and his shoulders soften.

"Great, and I want you to really be embarrassed, okay?" he says with a small grin. "I want you to fight me a little, and like you're trying really hard not to be so turned on. Got it?"

"Got it."

Kyle thinks that Cartman's cheeks must be aching he's smiling so hard. His eyes are practically sparkling.

"Clothes off. "

Kyle strips, the usual routine. He tries to look at the floor, but his eyes are drawn to Cartman, hungry and exhilarated. He's rid himself of his shoes, his socks, his shirt, his belt. He kicks his pants off his leg and stumbles, the first time he's done that since he started stripping for money. Cartman catches hold of his arm before he loses his balance completely.

"Woah, careful..." he laughs.

When Kyle looks up, flushed, Cartman is staring at him with a soft smile. He has a lax grip on Kyle's bicep, and the longer they stare, the more contemplative Cartman seems to become. His tooth grazes his lip, and their breathing is shallow and terse. The air is humid between them. Cartman then breaks the stare, and Kyle notices the swell at the front of his pants. He snatches the cock ring out of his bag and drops to his knees in front of Kyle. He looks down, stares at the top of Cartman's head and chokes in surprise as he tugs his boxers down, and places the cock ring around the base of Kyle's half-hard dick. Just like when he saw Cartman for the first time on webcam, he feels like he's having an out of body experience, paralysed by shock, and his mind isn't in a much better position. He can't believe he's letting Cartman touch his dick. His fingers are warm, and the metal ring is cool. It's not a vibrating one like before, but one that will most likely delay his orgasm.

Once it's fitted Cartman stands up, and Kyle's eyes never leave him. 

It's a strange coronation when Cartman places the hat on his head. It's so familiar that it should feel comfortable, but instead it's just unnerving. 

"I'm gonna go in the closet," Cartman announces, slightly breathless.

Kyle takes that as his cue to get on the bed, taking the laptop with him. He lies down, propping a pillow up behind him and placing the laptop beside him. When he opens it up, he's immediately greeted by footage of him and Cartman from a few days ago, when they first used the vibrating cock ring and butt plug. His skin prickles with goosebumps when he considers that Cartman may have saved more footage of them together. When the video starts, when he hears their moans, their panting, their groans; can recall the vibrations against his prostate, racing up his dick; the friction of his cock rubbing against the pillow, and when he hears Cartman's husky, goading words, it's not difficult at all for Kyle to jerk off. His cock twitches and hardens in his hand, and he tries to remember how he used to masturbate as a teenager. He was quiet and quick, the thought of anybody hearing him, or catching him jerking off seemed like the most mortifying thing in the world.

He chews his lip, muffling any moans and whimpers, and even though the images on the screen are tantalising, he squeezes his eyes shut and dips his head back. His mouth falls open and instead of groaning he takes in big, gasping breaths. The room is quiet, and it's easy to forget that Cartman is hiding away and watching him. His skin now prickles with the more unsettling notion that Cartman may have actually done this in their adolescence. He decides that's something he would rather not know. His head lolls to the side, and he blinks his eyes open. He can see Cartman peeking through the closet, obscured by shadow.

"Don't look..." he whispers.

Kyle turns his head away immediately, staring up at the ceiling and pumping at his rigid cock. His eyes slip shut and his mouth drops open once more, before he's interrupted by the sound of Cartman's laughter.

"Ha! What do we have here?"

Kyle stops what he's doing. He turns the video off and closes the laptop. Cartman is stalking towards him with a maniacal, gloating grin that unnerves Kyle instantly.

"Kyle Broflovski watching gay porn!" he chuckles, glancing at his dick. "And I thought you had no feeling at all down there..."

"What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?" Kyle snaps, heat crawling up his neck, over his face.

Cartman's face, however, seems to light up with approval.

"Well, I was looking for the headphones you stole from me but instead I found something much more intriguing."

"Intriguing?" Kyle frowns. That familiar anxious impatience he felt whenever Cartman was about to announce some evil plan is returning to him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Kyle, that I have perfect blackmail fodder now." He lifts his chin and smirks, so proud of himself. "I'm sure you wouldn't want this getting out to everybody else at school..."

"Don't you fucking dare!" Kyle fumes, sitting up. "I'll fucking... kill you before I let you do that!"

Cartman isn't scared. Amused, more than anything.

"And your little secret will be out before you get the chance to do that." He tilts his head, and it's obvious he's pretending to ponder. "But maybe I can be persuaded to forget this ever happened..."

"What?" Kyle's face drops, and he grips the sheets below him. "How?"

"You'll just need to do me a little favour, Kyle." He grins, as giddy as he's been all week. "Something I've been wanting for a long time."

Kyle's heart genuinely sinks. He knows what's coming.

"What is it?"

"I want you to suck my balls, Kyle."

Kyle is surprised he can say it without laughing.


It's his instinctive response. He knows, of course, that he will do it. He can't really back out if Cartman is going to pay him five hundred thousand dollars. But he promised himself he never would. He swore to Cartman he never would. But promises to yourself are the easiest to break, and the Kyle he's pretending to be now would absolutely refuse to do this. He feels like he's betraying him.

Cartman smiles, as if that's what he wanted to hear. He leans forward.

"What was that?"

"No!" Kyle exclaims. "That's disgusting, I'll never do that!"

Cartman takes it well. Of course he's taking it well though, because he knows that Kyle is going to be on his knees with his balls in his mouth pretty soon.

"Fine." He shrugs. "Then maybe you can help me out with something else, Kyle. Who should I tell first that you're a gay homosexual?" he asks with an evil smile. "Should I tell Kenny? Butters? I could tell Bebe, that would be the best way of ensuring that everybody in school knows-"

"Okay, I'll do it," Kyle snaps.

"You will?"

"Yes," Kyle says through gritted teeth.

Cartman bites his lip, before leaning forward again.

"Say it," he demands, relishing the words.

Kyle closes his eyes, sighs deeply through his nose.

"I'll suck your balls."

Cartman blinks, feigns ignorance. He looks around the empty room.

"Uh, sorry, whose balls are you going to suck?"

"I'll suck your balls!" Kyle yells, before he realises what Cartman is waiting for. "Eric."

Cartman snorts, delighted.

"Too fucking right you will. Get over here."

Kyle shuffles reluctantly off the mattress.

"Crawl," Cartman commands, before he can take another step.

Kyle scowls, surely red from head to toe but he gets down on all fours and crawls over to him. When he kneels in front of Cartman it feels like he's kneeling at the bottom of a skyscraper, a shadow across his face and grin more wicked than ever.

"You should be this obedient more often," he says, patting his head. "It suits you."

"Let's just get this over with," Kyle mutters.

"Oh, not so fast, Kyle." Cartman chuckles. "I've waited a long time for this, and I want to savour each and every second."

Kyle shudders at the familiar words, and watches as Cartman unbuttons his pants. He really should consider getting into the cam guy profession. Kyle is getting harder each agonising second it takes to unzip his fly. He sighs, and shifts a little on the floor.

"Getting impatient, Kyle?" he teases. "You really are hungry for balls, aren't you? Why don't you take them out?"

Kyle glares up at him, but takes his dick and balls out his boxers anyway. Cartman holds his dick, and Kyle just stares at the bulbous sac in front of him, clueless as to how to proceed. He closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath and tries his hardest to close his mouth around them, take in as much as he can. They’re warm, and musky, filling his mouth. He must look ridiculous, like a fucking hamster. Cartman starts snickering, and he knows he does, indeed, look ridiculous. He closes his eyes and sucks, not really knowing when he's supposed to stop. But he gets a good idea when Cartman moans, and his warm, heavy cock slaps his face, rubbing against his cheek. 

"That's it..." he murmurs, cock growing harder against Kyle's bulging cheek. "Look at you fucking go, you dirty girl... you love gobbling my balls, don't you?"

Kyle tries to sound like he's objecting, but it's hard to convey objection with a muffled whimper. Cartman's gravelly, eager words, his scent, his cock dribbling pre-cum onto his face is making his already impossibly stiff cock ache even more. He grips Kyle's head, pushing his hat back and revealing more of his hair, before burying his face in his crotch. Kyle makes more startled, muffled noises and sucks faster. Cartman's cock is now rubbing against his mask, and his pre-cum is sure to stain it.

He pulls Kyle away from his crotch when he seems to have had enough. Kyle is gasping for breath, his jaw slack. Cartman is still gripping his hair through his hat, and looks down at him with some warped, belittling affection.

"We should do this more often, Kyle," he says softly. "You're so good at it. Look how hard you've made me..." To illustrate his point, he starts painting Kyle's face with his pre-cum; down his nose, curving over his cheek, and above his lip. "You're gonna have to suck me off too if you want me not to tell anyone."

Kyle's heart is racing. This is another scenario he's played out in his head this week, and one he is more than prepared for. He pokes his tongue out and prods teasingly at the space between Cartman's cock and balls. He shudders, and Kyle keeps his eyes on him as he drags his tongue up the length of his dick.

"More." Cartman moans, strained. "Take it all in your mouth." Kyle can practically hear him smirking. "It'll be good practice."

Kyle's hand takes over at the base of Cartman's cock. He closes his lips over the head, laving at it and rubbing it against his tongue for a little while before he starts sucking Cartman off in earnest. A choked-off moan escapes Cartman's throat, and he presses down on Kyle's head, demanding he take more.

"Yeah, that's it... take it, you cock-hungry slut..."

Kyle lets Cartman shove his cock deeper into his mouth until he's fucking his throat. He gags with every thrust, and he can feel drool crawling out of the corner of his mouth. He flies back off Cartman's dick when he cums down his throat, landing on his ass and having a coughing fit on the floor. Cartman is panting, flushed, and hazy above him but he still cracks up at the sight. He walks around Kyle to sit on the bed.

"Did you swallow all of it?"

Kyle wants to reply he had no fucking choice, but he can't open his mouth without coughing. He nods, eyes watering.

"Good boy." Cartman grins, tapping his knee. "Come sit here."

Kyle crawls over to him, kneeling between Cartman's legs. He stands up and regards him warily, while Cartman rakes his gaze over him and ignores any wariness. He fits his hands at Kyle's waist and pulls him closer, until Kyle's legs bump against the mattress.


Before Kyle can climb onto Cartman's lap, he's gripping the backs of his thighs and lifting them for him, manoeuvring him like he's a stubborn marionette. Kyle huffs as he gets into a straddling position, but enjoys the feeling of Cartman stroking the back of his thighs, staring up at him with all the desire in the world.

"Such a sweet, little virgin slut. Haven't had your first kiss but you've sucked my big, meaty cock-"

"I've had my first kiss!"

Cartman arches a sceptical eyebrow.

"With a girl?" he shakes his head. "That doesn't count."

Kyle scowls, shifts in Cartman's lap and avoids his stare.

Cartman finds him, however, and stares at him hazily.

"You haven't kissed a boy, have you?" he asks, voice low.

Kyle shakes his head. He didn't kiss a guy until college.

Cartman cradles Kyle's jaw and brings their lips together. Their first kiss of the night. Soft, and tender, and indulgent. Kyle doesn't need to pretend, his reactions are unadulterated. He holds his breath, tenses like a cat with hackles raised, before melting into Cartman's kiss, lips fusing together. He tilts his head, tongues meeting, and Kyle grips his hair, his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life. Cartman grunts, pulling Kyle closer until his knees give away and his legs, arms, entire body is wrapped around him. His cock is pressed flush against Cartman's belly, and Kyle ruts against him to try to get some much needed relief.

Cartman tears his lips away from Kyle, beaming at him with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Jesus, I never thought you'd be so fucking horny..." he kisses Kyle again. "One little taste of cock and now you can't get enough, huh?"

Kyle bites Cartman's lip and growls.

"Fuck you..."

Cartman smacks his ass, squeezing his cheek.

"Attitude like that is a surefire way to expose your secret," he reprimands. "But if you ask me nicely to pop your cherry..."

"Please fuck me..." Kyle moans, rutting desperately. "Eric, please fuck me... "

Cartman grins.

"That's better..."

He throws Kyle off his lap and onto the bed, turning him around so he's on all fours. He joins Kyle, and Kyle can feel the mattress dip with his weight. Kyle tenses when he feels Cartman dragging his cock down the crack of his ass.

"Yeah, obedience really fucking suits you, Kyle. You act so tough, but really you wanna just give in and bend over for me..."

Kyle rolls his eyes, and growls again. He may want Cartman to fuck him more than anything else in the world right now, but that doesn't mean he wants to stop putting up a fight.

"God damn, just fuck me already!" he snaps.

"Not so fast, Kyle. You may think you can handle my big, fat cock raw but we need to get you prepped first. Except... I don't have any lube," Cartman says, feigning ignorance once more. "Do you?"


Cartman sighs sweetly.

"Oh well, I guess we're just gonna have to improvise."

Cartman climbs off the bed, and Kyle gasps and squirms when he feels hot breath against his opening. Cartman snickers.

“Relax… you should be used to somebody sucking at your asshole…”

A hot ball of anger pushes into Kyle’s throat, and he grits his teeth, resisting the urge to kick Cartman so hard in the chest that he loses breath. He kisses Kyle’s cheek, nibbling at the spot he kissed and applying tiny pressure. The makings of a lovebite. His voice is gravelly.

“But I’m not gonna hurt you like those Apple dickheads did…”

Kyle convulses, mouth falling open in a high, sharp gasp when he feels Cartman’s tongue prodding at his asshole. He whimpers, forehead  pressed against the mattress, and thighs shaking either side of Cartman's head as he slides his tongue in and out. He spreads his cheeks, and Kyle shudders at Cartman's hot, panting breath against his hole. He then buries his face in his ass, fucking him fast with his tongue. Kyle's sweaty body is sticking to the sheets, and moans and whimpers are pouring out of his mouth. He’s been eaten out only once or twice and never really enjoyed it, mainly because of the experience Cartman so insensitively had to bring up. Kyle hates to admit that Cartman's made good with his promise. This feels fucking incredible. He rocks back against Cartman's tongue, practically riding his face until he pulls out. He cries in frustration.

"You want me to keep going?" Cartman asks, shifting a little and reaching between Kyle's legs to cup and fondle his balls.

Kyle's eyes roll back and he nods.

"Then beg for my cock..."  

Kyle groans, anguished.

"Please... please, Eric, don't stop..." Kyle whimpers, as Cartman fondles his balls, prods at his asshole with his tongue and occasionally nips at his cheeks. "Don't stop until my hole is ready for your cock..." Kyle is scrambling for coherency. "I-I-I want you to pop my cherry! I need your cock inside me, please..."

Cartman lets go of his balls, unceremoniously flipping him over and causing Kyle to let out a yelp. He stands tall over Kyle, grinning, flushed, and panting, while Kyle feels embarrassed, and vulnerable, and desperate for more. He shivers as Cartman rakes his gaze over him, it's as if his dark eyes are responsible for making every hair on his body stand on end. When he’s done ogling him, he sighs and drops to his knees. The rest of his body disappears behind the bed, only his contemplative, calculating face is visible between Kyle’s legs. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Kyle…” he whispers, placing a kiss to Kyle’s slick thigh that makes him twitch. Every brush of lips, stroke of fingers, every breath anywhere near his neglected, swollen cock is wreaking havoc on his nerves.

Cartman doesn’t care, he continues to kiss his way down his thigh, branding his words into his skin.

“You know why you’re so beautiful? Because you’re stubborn, aloof. Everything you do drives me crazy, and you don’t ever acknowledge it. Even though you know what you’re doing. How could you not? You’re the smartest person I know. But you hold it over me, you keep me awake, and don’t let up. If you didn’t know the effect you have on me, you wouldn’t let me do all these things to you, because you know that if you let me do what I want, I’ll keep your secret.”

Kyle doesn’t know if he’s supposed to respond, he’s just lying there with his chest heaving and his heart pounding in his throat because the lines between white lie, and vivid reality are becoming blurred. But when Cartman buries his tongue inside him once more, all rational thought flies out of the window. He squeezes his eyes shut and cries out, body rocking to the rhythm of Cartman’s tongue, his mind consumed with fucking himself on it. He grips the sheet and whines with every propulsion.

Cartman pulls out, and Kyle turns his head and buries his face in the sheets to smother his disappointed whimpers. 

“But there’s so much more to this secret you’re keeping, and the most terrifying part of it to you is that I drive you just as wild, you want me just as much. In fact, you want me more than both of us ever realised. Look at you… I’ve touched you, kissed you, filled you up, and been inside you but you still haven’t cum. You’re dying for a release, your body is screaming for it. So hard, so sore, so wet…”

He dips his fingers into the hot, wet slit of Kyle's cock, and it's like Cartman has dipped his fingers into his fucking sanity and swirled it around, short-circuiting his brain. His eyes squeeze shut, his mouth opens wide in a silent howl and he writhes about in an intense, uncomfortable sort of pleasure, keening to Cartman’s fingers. He then strokes and plays fingerpaints on Kyle’s cock, coating him in pre-cum.

Their eyes meet, hazy, and dark, and Kyle gags when Cartman slides his fingers deep into his mouth. He fucks his throat slowly, eyes never leaving him. 

“No, it’s not enough yet…” Cartman continues. Kyle sucks the pre-cum off his fingers, eyes drooping shut as he talks. “It won’t be enough until I’ve fucked those gifted brains out, consumed you, possessed you, destroyed every last holdout that you can live without me, that you don’t need me.”

Cartman rubs his fingers along Kyle’s gums, places them between his teeth and encourages Kyle to bite down on them. Kyle really does feel like Cartman flipped some switch in his body when he dipped his fingers inside his slit. All rationale, inhibition, or pride has been incinerated. All that matters now is that he cums, in the next few seconds, minutes, or hours. The money pales in comparison to that. 

When Kyle bites down particularly hard, Cartman doesn't snatch his fingers away, he extracts them gently, like he could tell it was coming. It's like he knows Kyle's every move because he's reprogrammed Kyle to make him behave how he wants him to behave. It's disconcerting, sure, but it also make Kyle's full, aching cock twitch against his belly. He cranes his neck to lap at Cartman's fingers. He grins in approval, and a smile twitches on Kyle’s face too.

“You’ve always needed me…” Cartman continues, casually dipping his fingers into Kyle’s dribbling slit again. He whimpers and shudders once more. “That scar on your hip proves it…” with that, Cartman traces his transplant scar with his wet finger. Kyle gulps. It’s the literal line between Kyle's alias and his true self. “You wouldn’t be alive without that piece of me inside you. That’s why it feels like you’d die without my cock, doesn’t it?”

Kyle nods, chewing his lip. Cartman rewards him by dipping his fingers in again.

"Aaah!" he cries, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. "Aaah, fuck, Cartman!"

Everything stops when Kyle cries out that name. Time, the world, everything. He wants to curl up into a ball, protect himself from the humiliation, the anger that is soon to follow. Instead, his eyes fly open and he sees that Cartman has recoiled and is staring down at him, like Kyle has actually struck him.

"What..." his jaw tightens, his eyes darken with something other than arousal. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

"Nothing!" Kyle exclaims, still thinking he can salvage this. He sits up on his elbows. "I didn't call you anything!"

Cartman fumes, nostrils flared.

"You called me something, and it sure as hell wasn't what I told you to call me, so take that fucking mask off and face me, Kyle!"

Kyle hangs his head, sitting up and untying the mask with shaking fingers. There's no use denying it now. He discards it on the floor, and it's like discarding a layer of skin. Raw flesh exposed. Cartman stumbles a little, and he's staring at Kyle but Kyle can tell his mind is elsewhere, racing.

"Shit..." he gasps. "Shit, it really is you..."

Kyle shakes his head, frowning. The hard, selfish practical shell he built around his guilt is cracking. He clears his throat, the Val voice dissolving. 

"Cartman, I'm sorry. I thought it was better if you didn't know, and then you called my name out, and now this, I..." he hangs his head again, before looking at Cartman. "I'm really sorry, but please don't tell anyone about this. I'll do anything-"

Cartman huffs.

"Yeah, I can fucking see that."

"I had no idea you felt that way about me," Kyle murmurs.

The corner of Cartman's mouth twitches, devastated by what he has inadvertently revealed. He frowns.

"That was kind of the point. What the fuck, Kyle? I've spent all this money and... and it was you all along?"

Kyle's mouth opens and closes a few times, searching for a response, but when Cartman starts laughing he does too. It relieves the room of tension. Kyle will take laughing like this over begging Cartman to keep his secret, to fighting, to watching Cartman have a fucking meltdown. Still, he has to know this will stay between them.

"Cartman, seriously, you're not gonna tell anyone, are you?"

Cartman blinks, raking his gaze over Kyle like he's considering it, before he shakes his head.

"No..." he grins. "If you'll fuck me."

Kyle grins too, biting his lip. That's a deal he's willing to make.

"I think I can do that."

Cartman pounces on him, shoving him further up the bed and pinning him there, crashing their lips together. He pushes Kyle's hat off his head - much to his relief because it was getting almost as hot as the gimp mask - and grips and tugs at his curls. Just as their tongues start to grapple with each other, Cartman starts kissing Kyle's forehead, his brow bone, his eyelids, cheeks and nose, before finding his mouth again. Kyle shoves his tongue in his mouth immediately.

"You like knowing how your tight, little asshole tastes?" Cartman teases.

"Mmhmm." Kyle moans, closing his eyes and really hamming it up. He opens his eyes and smiles. "But I like how your cock tastes even more."

Cartman grins in approval, before sitting in between Kyle's legs.

"Finger yourself," he commands.

Kyle keeps his eyes on Cartman as he reaches between his body and shoves two fingers inside his wet hole. He closes his eyes and throws his head back as he strokes his prostate, but they fly wide open when he feels a foreign finger pushing in alongside his own.

"Cartman!" he cries.

"I had to," Cartman replies, tongue poking at his lip in concentration as he wriggles his finger besides Kyle's. "I've been wanting to shove my fingers inside you for weeks..."

Kyle removes his fingers with a huff, and lets Cartman shove another inside him and finger him vigorously. After a minute or so, he pulls his fingers out and reaches into the back pocket of his pants for a condom. He pulls his pants and underwear down to his knees, and Kyle watches with a racing heart and heaving chest as he rolls the condom over his cock. He spreads Kyle's legs wide, and lifts them up over his shoulders. Kyle’s calves are dangling over his back. He buries his cock in Kyle unceremoniously and fucks him hard and fast.

Kyle cries out with every thrust, unable to stop the rapturous, frustrated noises from pouring out of his mouth. He does feel a little seasick with the relentless, vigorous motion but Cartman’s flushed, glistening face, floppy hair, and ragged grunts keep him focused on the only thing that matters - finally being able to cum. He bites his lip, whining and grunting too as he presses his heel into Cartman’s back, tries to fuck himself on his cock, wanting more of him everywhere. But his hole has already swallowed all of his dick, so instead he settles for grabbing at his shirt and pulling him to his lips. He stretches his fancy shirt, runs his hands through his drenched hair, and instead of kisses they exchange terse, laboured breaths, tongues brushing together. 

It hurts, how much Kyle wants to cum. He winces as his balls draw tighter with the promise of an orgasm, his cock throbbing against his belly. 

"Aaah!" Cartman moans, face contorting. "Aaah, Kyle!"

Instead, Cartman cums with long, hard thrusts. Kyle grumbles, cock still full, almost purple, and just as heavy as his balls. He has tears in his eyes, and he moans, broken, when Cartman rides out his orgasm with gentle thrusts, meeting his prostate each time.

"You're dying to cum, aren't you?" he asks.

Kyle nods, breathing laboured.

Cartman pulls out of Kyle abruptly, flipping him over so Kyle is in a heap on top of him.

"Ride my cock and beg."

Without a word, Kyle seats himself on Cartman's cock. It's easy to bury himself to the hilt, and as he bounces he feels Cartman's cock grow harder inside him. He closes his eyes, lolls his head back and bounces with every word:

"Please, unnh, please, Cartman let me cum, please, need to cum so bad, Eric, please, please, please..."

It really does feel like a prayer. Cartman groans, squeezing Kyle's hips and ignoring his cock, thrusting up into him. His prostate is being pummelled by every thrust and bounce, until Cartman cums again. Kyle wants to yell in his face.

Cartman opens his eyes, delirious in his post-orgasm haze. His head falls back as he catches his breath.

"That was fucking great..."

Kyle grits his teeth, shaking with injustice. 

"Cartman, seriously, I need to cum!"

"Fine..." Cartman sighs. "My dick is starting to hurt anyway."

Cartman lifts Kyle off him, and places him so he's lying at the foot of the bed. Cartman positions himself in between his legs, raising them and placing them on his shoulders once more. It pushes Kyle further off the bed until his body is contorted to an awkward, uncomfortable angle. The mattress is digging into his spine and arching his back. He's staring at the hotel mirror, seeing himself upside down. Cartman lets go of one of his legs, and reaches forward. Kyle jolts as he almost slips off the bed, and freezes when Cartman grips his throat and directs his head to stare at his reflection.

"Don't take your eyes off me..."

Kyle gulps, and he's sure Cartman can feel his Adam's apple bobbing in his grip. He nods, and Cartman's grip grows lax on his throat. Kyle watches as Cartman takes the cock ring off one-handed and shudders as he suppresses what would no doubt be a breathless string of grateful babbling. He then watches Cartman take his cock into his mouth, sucking studiously, brow furrowed and moaning around his dick. He moans too, fighting to keep his eyes open, and using all the core strength he has to lift his hips and fuck Cartman's mouth shallowly, trembling. He can feel his body sliding off the bed with every thrust but he can’t stop. His moans grow louder, shakier, glinting with desperate cries. Cartman will occasionally grasp at his throat and squeeze, and the lack of oxygen, and the blood rushing to his head makes the debilitating anticipation in the pit of his stomach all the hotter. He can barely breathe when he cums, arching into Cartman's mouth and cumming down his throat, making him take more of his cock than ever. But when Cartman releases his throat he's sobbing, body shaking and his tears pool at his lashes and run wayward over his face, blurring his reflection.

“Yes!” he gasps, finding his breath. He can’t stop shaking. More tears slide down his face. “Yes thank you…”

He feels something warm pooling on his stomach, and he sees Cartman rubbing his cum all over his belly. It's a heavy load that starts to run, thick and slow down his torso.

“You’re welcome…”

He's pulled out of his bliss when Cartman lets go of his other leg and he falls off the bed, hitting his head on the floor. He can hear Cartman cackling above him, before he too slides off the bed and kneels down beside him.

"Are you alright?" he asks, still laughing.

Kyle frowns, rubbing his head.

"Yeah, I'm fine..."

He sits up, crossing his legs and wincing, immediately regretting it. When he looks at Cartman he's smiling softly, the kind of smile that's hard not to return. Still, reality is seeping back in and even though Cartman seemed to be okay with all that's happened, now the heat of the moment is behind them Kyle needs to know for sure.

"You're really not mad, then?"

Cartman tilts his head, thinks about it.

"Well, I'm always a little mad at you. But I guess it worked out for the best..." he looks Kyle up and down wistfully. "Didn't it?" He winces when he asks that.

Kyle smiles. Despite the initial guilt, and anxiety, this has been the most fun two weeks he's ever had with anybody.

"Yeah, it did."

They just sit there and smile at each other, and it feels like another kissing moment. But Kyle chickens out. He stares down at the drying cum smeared on his stomach and grimaces.

"Um, I'm gonna hop in the shower," he says, slowly getting to his feet.

"Okay." Cartman nods, eyes on him as he gets up. "Can I watch you?"

Kyle blinks, surprised by the request but he doesn't have a problem with it.

"Sure." He nods, before grinning. "For an extra ten grand."

Cartman returns the grin.


Five minutes later, Kyle is in the walk-in shower and Cartman is sat cross-legged on the toilet, watching him. The door is open for a better view, for conversation, and water splashes off the shower tray and onto the floor but neither of them care. Kyle goes about his usual shower routine, and Cartman stares like it's the most enthralling thing ever.

"So how the hell did you wind up doing this?"

"Huh?" Kyle asks, rinsing shampoo out of his hair.

"The sex work thing! I already thought you were hot, but this has made you, like, a thousand times hotter."

Kyle shrugs and smirks, flattered, to himself.

"New York is expensive. I had a ton of debt-"

"I'm getting a boner just listening to this."

Kyle chuckles.

"And as long as there are lonely, horny men out there, this line of work will always be lucrative."

"It's heartening to know you're making a living out of taking advantage of lonely people like me."

Kyle scoffs, eyes widening.

"Taking advantage? I wasn't the one setting the prices, you were! Just like art, the value of sex work is only determined by what the client thinks it's worth."

"Still, I was thinking maybe we could..." Cartman brushes some imaginary dust off his knee. "Do this for free sometime? Maybe go out to dinner first?"

Kyle blinks, a delighted smile spreading across his face.

"A date? You're asking me out on a date?"

Cartman rolls his eyes, basically conceding that yes, he would like to go on a date.

"More like now that I've fucked you for real I can't really put a price on it anymore."

"So you're saying I'm priceless?" Kyle teases, lifting his chin.

"If that makes you feel better and gets you to accept, then yeah, you're priceless." Cartman grins.

Kyle lowers his chin, and doesn't bother hiding his flattered grin.

"Dinner sounds great. So what should we do now?"

Cartman shrugs, smirking.

"Well, the night is still young."

Kyle bites his lip, and glances between the shower and Cartman.

"You wanna hop in?"

Cartman bites his lip too, stripping off and pressing Kyle up against the wall with a firm kiss as soon as he steps in the shower.

"Holy shit..." he whispers when he pulls away, eyes wide with awe. "I totally get it now..."

Kyle frowns.


"Val! Why you chose a girl's name, I totally get it now!"

"Get what?" Kyle asks, becoming irate. "There's nothing to get!"

Cartman raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, there isn't? So it's not based on that Amy Winehouse song?"


"You know!" Cartman closes his eyes as he sings. "Won't you come on over? Stop making a fool out of me! Why don't you come on over, Valerie?"" He opens his eyes, and grips Kyle's arms. "You're my Valerie!"

Kyle chuckles, still lost.

"What the hell do you mean, 'your Valerie?'"

"Come on, Kyle," Cartman replies, with knowing exasperation. "She even has red hair like you! The song is perfect. As if that name wasn't a cryptic code for me to crack."

"It wasn't! I had that pseudonym way before we started talking, and it never even occurred to me that you would find me on there!"

Cartman rolls his eyes and scoffs.

"Yeah, right." He pulls Kyle closer, staring at his lips. "Our roads always lead right back to each other."

Kyle smirks, but his heart is racing at the notion, at the conviction in Cartman's voice.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah..." Cartman nods, eyes lidded. "I've been waiting to run into you in this fucking city for years."

They kiss again, and Kyle gasps when Cartman slips a hand between their bodies.

They fuck in the shower, and once more in the bed before Kyle does something he wasn't planning on at all and stays the night. To be more specific, they fall asleep watching a movie it takes them 30 minutes to choose. 

Cartman mumbles something about buying Kyle an expensive breakfast before he drifts off, and Kyle falls asleep thinking about how the worst possible person to discover his secret, turned out to be the best.