Chapter Text
"We were really weird when we were kids."
Stan says so when they're walking past the toy aisle at Target, shopping for a trash can for their master bathroom. Kyle is tired of the one they've had there since they moved into their house two years ago, and today is the day when he just can't take it anymore. The current trash can is blue and plastic, a remnant from Stan's college dorm room, and it reminds Kyle too strongly of puking into it on frat rush night. They both declined to join a frat, but the trash can endured.
"We weren't that weird," Kyle says, though they were. They're taking their time as they head toward the household decor area, Kyle with his elbows on the cart, Stan walking along beside him and occasionally stopping to touch a random novelty tumbler or string of colored porch lights. When it comes to home decor he likes bright, plastic things that eight year old girls would choose. It's baffling.
"Kyle," Stan says, his gaze sliding to Kyle's incredulously. "We were weird."
"How so?" Kyle asks, though he's pretty sure he knows.
"The games we used to play. Like, we didn't play with that kind of stuff." He flicks his head toward the toy aisle. "Or, I guess we did -"
"You had a massive Lego collection, dude."
"Right, I know, but you remember all the elaborate shit we used to do with Cartman and Kenny? We built a play laundromat. Okay? That's not normal. Not to mention what we did when we were alone together."
"Are you talking about middle school?" Kyle asks, blushing.
"No, that was dry humping. I'm talking about before that. Like. Pre-erections. Those games we used to play."
"What games?" Kyle asks, though he's blushing harder now, remembering. He wishes they weren't in public.
"Dude, you used to tie me up," Stan says, quietly.
A nervous sort of guffaw manages its way past Kyle's lips, and Stan smirks when their eyes meet. Kyle shrugs.
"You were a way harsher teacher, dude," he says.
"Um, no? Remember the Reese's Pieces? That was torture!"
"Not hardly." Kyle is grinning, his quest for a tasteful trashcan momentarily forgotten. "At least I didn't hit my student."
"It wasn't hitting." Stan actually looks distressed, and Kyle bumps him with his hip to let him know he shouldn't be. "It was, you know. Spanking." He says that last word very quietly. Kyle's flush becomes something deeper, a heat that pools low in his stomach.
"I wasn't even sure if you remembered all that," Kyle says.
"Are you serious, dude? How could I forget?"
It started when they were around six or seven, but the games didn't get - well, serious - until they were eight. Kyle was usually the teacher first, because he paid attention more often in school and liked it when he could stump Stan with history or biology questions. They would play in Stan's room, usually, since his parents were less likely to come knocking when they shut the door. Stan would sit in a chair and Kyle would stand up at the front of the 'classroom,' wearing a pair of lens-less glasses and one of Stan's dad's ties. When Stan got questions wrong, Kyle would threaten to give him a punishment if his errors continued. Stan would bait him with obviously incorrect answers just to see if he was feeling ballsy enough to follow through with it. Kyle usually was, but he would blush while he used a couple of jump ropes they'd stolen from Shelley to tie Stan to the chair.
"Hey," Stan says as they're passing the candy aisle, closing in on home decor. He jogs over to one of the shelves and grins when he finds what he's looking for: a big bag of Reese's Pieces. Kyle lifts his hand to hide his giddy laughter.
"Get them," he says.
"Duh." Stan tosses them into the cart, and they land with an incriminating smack that actually makes Kyle shiver. When Stan was tied to the chair for being a bad student, Kyle would continue with his lesson, but instead of being threatened for wrong answers Stan would get rewarded for correct ones. Kyle would feed him Reese's Pieces, one for each right answer, and would make Stan watch him eat them if he was wrong. The game would almost always escalate to their particular level of weirdness, with Kyle sitting in Stan's lap while he gave his lesson, straddling him and leaning in close when he chewed up the candy, so Stan could be further tortured by smelling it on his breath. Stan would whine and beg and they'd both get hot inside their clothes while Kyle worked up the nerve to put a piece of candy on the end of his tongue and let Stan suck it off.
"Yeah," Kyle says, hurrying toward the trash cans, ready to get out of here. "We were weird."
"Told you, dude." Stan touches the small of his back and leans in close. "But it was awesome."
"Are you going to eat Reese's Pieces off my tongue when we get home?" Kyle asks, afraid that Stan will just laugh. He grins and touches Kyle's back again.
"Maybe," he says. "But only if I get to be the teacher, too."
This was part of their arrangement as kids. When Kyle was done being the teacher - and feeding Stan candy with his tongue usually meant it was done, both of them starting to get fuzzy-brained in a way they couldn't comprehend or deal with yet - Stan got to have his turn. He was usually in the mood for revenge after suffering through Kyle's smug lectures, and he eschewed the glasses and put his dad's tie around his forehead. Stan wasn't a history or biology teacher: he was a karate teacher, and Kyle was a terrible karate student. His sensei was always getting disappointed in him, shaking his head and telling him he had to endure the ancient Japanese form of punishment for bad karate. This involved bending over Stan's bed and getting spanked, sometimes with his underwear pulled down if Stan was feeling particularly vengeful. Kyle always liked it better that way, and he couldn't decide why, because it made the spanking sting harder. It just seemed more real that way.
He can barely concentrate on trash cans and grabs a wooden basket type one without really looking at it. Normally this is the kind of decision that would bring out his neurotic side and cause him to spend thirty minutes deliberating on what would look best with the framed picture that's hanging over the toilet, but at the moment he doesn't care. He races toward the checkout area, Stan walking along beside him at a fast clip.
"What do you think?" Stan asks when they're waiting in line. "Have you gotten better at karate over the years?"
There's a threat buried in the question, and it makes Kyle shudder. He gives Stan a secret smile, the heat in his stomach spreading all the way down through the tips of his fingers.
"Honestly," Kyle says. "I've probably gotten worse."
"Sucks for you," Stan says, and Kyle really needs Stan to stop looking at him like that, like he's already thinking about the sound his hand is going to make when it slaps against Kyle's bare ass. He swallows down his arousal and manages to give the cashier a shaky smile as she rings up the candy and the trash can.
They don't speak during the drive home, as if they're both afraid to spoil what they hope the other is plotting, and Stan doesn't even put on the radio. At the house, Kyle's hands shake as he unlocks the front door, and as soon as they're through it Stan is on him, the bags tumbling to the floor. Kyle pulls away and Stan kicks the door shut before pursuing him.
"Wait!" Kyle says, holding up a hand, and Stan stops. His expression grows milder and he seems to be anticipating some instruction, his breath coming hard through his nose.
"Get the candy and a chair," Kyle says. "I'll get the rope."
Stan runs, and Kyle swallows down a dorkily excited laugh as he heads in the opposite direction, toward the bedroom. He rips the belts off of both of their robes, then digs out of one of Stan's horrible ties, a Broncos one that he would wear to weddings if Kyle allowed it. He dashes back out into the living room, halting in his tracks when he sees Stan sitting in a chair that he's pulled from the kitchen. It's a simple wooden one like the desk chair that Kyle would tie Stan to when they were kids. The bag of Reese's Pieces is in Stan's lap, unopened.
"You were on time to class," Kyle says. He puts the bindings down for now and walks to Stan, taking the candy from his lap and opening it. "Good boy," he says, softly, nervous. He takes a single piece of candy from the bag and holds it to Stan's lips, shivering when Stan carefully licks it into his mouth. He can feel Stan trembling and wants to stroke his cheeks, but instead he walks across the room and stands with the Reese's Pieces bag curled in his fist.
"Today's lesson," Kyle says. "Anatomy."
"Kay," Stan says. His legs spread a little wider, his calves pressed to the legs of the chair as if he's ready to be tied there.
"Now." Kyle walks to Stan again, wishing he had those glasses from Stan's toy box, though they'd be much too small now. "I'm going to point out parts of the body and you're going to identify them. Got it?"
"Got it," Stan says. He grins. "Sir."
"What's this?" Kyle asks, placing two fingers against Stan's wrist. He rubs them there, soft, then turns Stan's hand over and rubs the underside. Stan shivers, thighs twitching.
"Wrist," he says. Kyle sighs and shakes his head.
"I was referring to your skin," he says. "The correct answer was epidermis."
"Trick question," Stan says, making a face. Kyle shrugs.
"Wrong answer," he says. He goes to the pile of bindings and selects one of the robe belts. "Now be still for me," he says when he goes back to the chair. He kneels down and ties Stan's left leg to the chair.
"Give me another one," Stan says, sitting up a little straighter. "I'll get it right this time."
"We'll see," Kyle says. He stands and locks eyes with Stan as he brings his fingers to Stan's neck, sliding two fingertips from the edge of Stan's jaw and down over his throat, toward his Adam's apple. "This?" he says.
"My neck," Stan says. He actually seems to want to get a question right. "Or - throat! You touched both."
"I was referring to your epiglottis," Kyle says. "It's somewhere in here." He uses all five fingers on Stan's neck now, stroking him in quick, light passes. Stan swallows heavily.
"This isn't fair," he says.
"Not fair?" Kyle says. "No backtalk allowed. Your behavior problems seem to have increased, Mr. Marsh."
"So what are you going to do about it?" Stan asks, staring up at him darkly.
"Hold still," Kyle says. He goes for the other belt and he tie, and returns to secure Stan's other leg the chair, leaving his thighs spread open. He moves behind Stan and knots the tie around his wrists, leaning down to lick over the fine blue veins there once he's bound.
"You're licking me, teacher," Stan says.
"It'll help you learn about anatomy," Kyle says. He puts his hands on Stan's shoulders and licks the back of his neck, slow and hot, grinning when Stan moans. "That's your spine," Kyle says. He runs the tip of his tongue over the bumps at the back of Stan's neck, more delicately now. "Feel it?"
"Mhmm - yeah," Stan says. He twitches. "Ask me - another, okay?"
"Okay." Kyle moves around to Stan's front, still on his knees. He spreads both hands open at the top of Stan's thighs, watching Stan's breath come faster as he claws them down toward Stan's knees, digging his thumbs in. "What are these?" he asks.
"Thighs?" Poor Stan sounds uncertain, as if Kyle might be asking him to name leg bones instead. Kyle smiles and nods, grabbing for the candy.
"Good boy," he says. He straddles Stan's lap, scooting in close so that Stan can feel the heat of Kyle's erection against his own. "Be still for me, now," Kyle says when Stan tries to buck up against him. He rests his forehead against Stan's and watches Stan's eyes trail down to his mouth as he places a piece of candy on the tip of his tongue. He remembers the way he would tremble when he did this, always afraid it would be this time that Stan turned away, or told him to get off, that he was being too weird. They've always been equally weird, and Kyle remembers how strongly relieved he'd feel about this as Stan sucks on the tip of his tongue, taking the partially melted candy into his own mouth. Kyle kisses Stan's cheeks while he chews and swallows.
"Thank you," Stan says, breathless.
"You'll get more if you keep getting the answers right," Kyle says. He's almost done with being in control, wants to bend over and be spanked. "What's this, now?" he says, reaching down between their bodies to wrap his hand around Stan's trapped erection. Stan groans and lets his head fall back, exposing his throat.
"My dick," Stan says, his hips jerking upward.
"Wrong," Kyle says sternly, still rubbing Stan through his jeans, reaching down to tease his balls with two fingers. "This is your erection, young man. This is what happens when you're aroused. Your cock fills up with blood, and gets big and hard, and then what, hmm? Then what happens?"
"Ah - I f-fuck you with it, sir," Stan says. He tips his head back up and smirks at Kyle, his eyes dark.
"Not always," Kyle says, tapping a finger against Stan's lips. "Sometimes it goes in my mouth, don't forget. Here's another anatomy lesson: the inside of the human mouth is very hot, and when I'm aroused it gets so wet, doesn't it? Hmm? All warm and slippery? When I'm sucking on that big, fat dick?"
"Kyle," Stan says, whining.
"I thought I was 'sir,'" Kyle says. He rubs his finger around Stan's lips, grinning when Stan's tongue darts out to lick his fingertip.
"Suck me," Stan says. He's panting, struggling against his bonds. "Please, I need it."
"Oh," Kyle says, because he's a sucker for Stan when he's like this, broken open by Kyle's teasing. He kisses Stan deeply, thinking about anatomy when their tongues slide together, all those sensors lighting up at the touch, their bodies activated, ready for more. When he slides down between Stan's legs and starts working on his jeans Stan actually whimpers with relief, trying to spread his legs wider.
"Leave it," Stan says when Kyle starts to undo one of the bonds around his leg. "I - I like it," Stan says. His cheeks color. "I always liked it."
"Not an effective punishment, then?" Kyle kisses Stan's knee, then moves up along his thigh, pressing kisses to the inside seam of his jeans. Stan smiles down at him.
"The candy thing was," he says. "But I wanted to eat all of them off your tongue, not just the last one."
Kyle grins, thinking of the first time they gave up the platonic act and just grabbed each other, kissing like two kids who had no idea how to do it and rubbing together until they'd both come in their pants. It was shortly after Kyle's thirteenth birthday, the summer before 8th grade. They were in Stan's bed, reading a Penthouse that Kenny had lent them, and they were both nervous about it, quiet as Stan turned the pages, Kyle chewing on the end of his thumb. He sort of hated the magazine, because he thought Stan was getting off on the women, but he also couldn't drag his eyes away. Eventually, Stan announced that it was too hot in his room, threw the magazine over the side of the bed and took off his shirt. Kyle was limp on the already sweaty sheets, staring up at Stan and gnawing on his thumbnail. Stan's hair was damp at the temples, sticking up funny, and by the time Kyle realized that they'd been staring at each other for way too long there was no turning back: Stan fell onto him, and they dry humped their way to paradise together, their kisses so sloppy and hungry that they both had sore, bitten lips when it was through. They kissed more gently after that, panting against each other's mouths, laughing and whispering dude.
Kyle is thinking about those days as he sucks Stan's cock, the early makeout sessions that were so awkward but safe, too, because if he messed something up Stan wouldn't laugh or be disappointed. He'd always seemed to like it when Kyle made things up on the fly, and Kyle loved it when Stan was awkward, because it felt like further proof that they belonged to each other. Nobody else would have taken care of them the way they did while they figured out sex and all its intricacies. He looks up at Stan now, and even with Stan's dick in his mouth he still sees the kid he grew up with looking back at him, blown apart by how good Kyle can make him feel.
"Gonna - gonna come," Stan pants out, twitching against his bonds. Kyle pulls off of him, and Stan whines.
"You should wait," Kyle says. "We should switch sides."
"Kyle, please, fuck, I'm so close -"
"Nuh-uh," Kyle says, smirking. The spanking was always better if he'd truly pissed Stan off during his turn as the teacher. He sits back on his knees and blows gently on the head of Stan's cock, which is leaking steadily now. Stan groans and tries to jerk his hips up, but Kyle moves away before Stan can make contact with any part of him.
"You're being sadistic," Stan says, and there's a hint of not unpleasant surprise in the statement. Kyle shrugs and begins untying his legs.
"Whatever, sensei," he says. "I need my lesson."
"Oh, I'll teach you a lesson," Stan says, and Kyle snorts. He frees Stan's other leg and moves around to undo the tie. Stan gets up shakily and steps out of his jeans and boxer shorts, his cock still pointed straight, looking painfully hard. Kyle can relate; he's ready to burst inside his pants.
"Get undressed," Stan says. He pulls his own shirt off and puts the Broncos tie around his forehead. Kyle can't decide if he's more adorable or hot right now, narrowing his eyes at Kyle the way he always did when he slipped into his karate teacher persona. Kyle undresses more slowly than necessary, walking backward when Stan steps toward him. He's blushing when his clothes are gone, remembering how he used to shake while he waited for Stan's instructions. They never did this naked as kids.
"Have you been practicing?" Stan asks.
"No," Kyle says. Stan shakes his head.
"I thought so. Okay, first we're going to stretch. Turn around."
Kyle does so, facing away from Stan, toward the front windows. He feels a shock of anxiety before realizing that, despite the fact that the curtains are open, no one can see them through the overgrown hedges. Across the street, a leaf blower is whirring.
"Now spread your legs," Stan says. "Wider! Good. Now grab your ankles with both hands."
Kyle's blush creeps down the back of his neck. His breath comes harder as he bends over and takes hold of his ankles, showing Stan his ass, his cock and balls heavy between his legs, so full that they're throbbing with pressure. He feels vulnerable here in the middle of their living room, with that damn leaf blower going outside.
"Good," Stan says, pronouncing the word so slowly that Kyle feels it move down his spine like a shiver. He holds his breath when he hears Stan walking closer, and lets it out in a shaky rush when Stan's hand rests over the small of his back.
"You need to push deeper into the stretch," Stan says. The word deeper makes Kyle's cock twitch, and he feels a fat bead of pre-come dribbling from the tip. "I'll help you," Stan says, so cheerfully that Kyle almost laughs. Instead, his breath catches, because both of Stan's hands are on him now, one sliding down his back to push his chest closer to his thighs, the other snug over the crack of his ass.
"Ah," Kyle says, softly, involuntarily. He closes his eyes.
"Does that hurt?" Stan asks, his hands softening. "Do you need to come up?"
"No, sensei," Kyle says. It actually feels incredibly good, both the stretch and the intense vulnerability, especially with Stan's hand over his ass like this, as if he's protecting it from intruders, or onlookers. Kyle imagines a class full of other students sitting on the floor behind them, watching this, and he moans.
"Quiet," Stan says. He gives Kyle's ass a light slap, mostly using his fingers. "You need to maintain control."
"Yes," Kyle says. His muscles are starting to shake, sweat dripping from his temples and sliding down along the line of his jaw. He holds in another moan when Stan's hand dips between his ass cheeks, feeling for his hole.
"Stay in position," Stan warns as Kyle's thighs begin to twitch. He has to bite his tongue to keep from shouting when Stan's fingertip moves around his opening in slow circles, his other hand sliding back to hold Kyle's cheeks apart.
"Stan," Kyle sobs out when he can't take it anymore - oh, he needs to be fucked, to hell with the spanking, he wants Stan's dick in there so bad.
"Do not address me by my first name," Stan says. He gives Kyle a hard slap on the ass. "It's disrespectful."
"Sorry, sorry," Kyle says, shaking hard now. Stan grunts and reaches down to take hold of Kyle's shoulder, pulling him up slowly, his other hand still buried between Kyle's cheeks.
"Come up one vertebrate at a time," Stan says, and Kyle would laugh hard if he wasn't about to lose his shit, because he's pretty sure Stan got that from his yoga instructor. When Kyle is upright he sways on his feet, and Stan steadies him with one hand on his hip. He turns Kyle around and smirks at him, standing close enough for his cock to brush Kyle's. The contact sends a spark of pleasure down through Kyle's body, and he feels it one vertebrate at a time, his eyes sliding shut.
"You're still too weak to do proper karate," Stan says. Kyle smirks and peeks at him through trembling eyelashes. They rarely made it to any actual karate back in the day. Stan holds up a finger in front of Kyle's face. "Smirking at me now?" he says. "I think you need to be taught some respect."
"Yeah," Kyle says throatily, nodding. Stan narrows his eyes.
"Come here," he says, returning to the chair. He sits and spreads his legs, pats his thigh. "Over my lap."
Kyle is flustered as he makes his way to Stan, his cock still pounding with fullness. They never did it this way as kids, and that was probably for the best. It was weird enough, looking forward to getting spanked by his best friend, and this would have sent things over the top somehow. He lowers himself across Stan's lap, face down, his hands braced against the floor and his ass defenseless again, presented for Stan's punishment.
"I'm not going to count," Stan says, his hand soothing over Kyle's trembling ass. He grips the back of Kyle's neck with his other hand, just hard enough to make his breath catch. "And I'm not going to tell you how many you're going to get. You need to reach a state of meditation, despite the pain, a place where you have no expectations about when this will end. Just surrender yourself and accept whatever comes."
Kyle is reeling, his lips clamped together to hold in nervous laughter or a desperate moan, he's not sure which. Stan has clearly thought about this, and Kyle is left wondering how long he's waited to bring up their childhood weirdness so that it could resume, adult-style.
The first blow somehow comes as a surprise, and Stan shushes Kyle when he shouts. Kyle bites down on his tongue, the pain mirroring the sting on his ass, which spreads across his skin and transforms into something akin to pleasure. That relief is erased when Stan spanks him again, but Kyle is quiet this time, what might have been a whimper shaking through his bones. He's counting on the third and fourth blow, then he remembers what Stan said and tries to obey, letting his mind go blank and concentrating instead on the sensations his body is absorbing: the hard flat of Stan's hand, the heat of his thighs, and the push of his breath, hard through his nose. Kyle is panting while he takes his punishment, his mouth open and his eyes closed, his cock so heavy with need that he can't believe he's able to keep his hips still. He's surrendered, tensing when Stan's hand comes down hard and going limp as the aftermath sinks into his skin, his ass on fire.
"Good," Stan says softly, and Kyle thinks it might be over, but Stan seems to sense that he's having an expectation and spanks him again, harder this time. Kyle is unable to hold in his whimper, but when he goes soft again his mind is empty, his whole body tingling.
"That's good," Stan says, and he rubs his fingers over the tender flesh on Kyle's ass, teasing him with softness. "Now hold still, okay?"
Kyle wasn't moving, but he can't hold back a full body twitch when Stan brings a spit slick finger between his cheeks. He holds his breath and tries not to move again, breathing in humid huffs while Stan feels him.
"This is a test of your control," Stan says. His breath is coming quicker, too, and Kyle can feel the impossible hardness of Stan's cock pressed against his stomach. He's fixated on the sensation until Stan's finger starts working into him, too lube-less to move very fast, entering him so carefully that Kyle can't help pushing back on it, wanting more.
"Stop that," Stan says. He squeezes the back of Kyle's neck and Kyle jerks. He'd forgotten Stan's hand was there. "Stay still. Show me your control."
But Kyle doesn't want to be in control, he wants to fall apart, to cry and beg and slip into mindlessness while Stan fucks him. He whines softly, completely limp in Stan's hands now, his hands in loose fists against the carpet. They curl up tightly when Stan finds his prostate.
"Shhh," Stan says, playing with it, his hand tensing on the back of Kyle's neck again when Kyle jerks, rubbing his cock against Stan's thigh and the side of the chair. "Be still," Stan says.
"Oh, fuck," Kyle says, and he doesn't even recognize his own voice, it's so wrecked, he's so wrecked, convulsing with shudders while Stan rubs his prostate, slow and practiced, so good. "Fuh - fuck - fuck me, Stanley, please."
"I think we should wait," Stan says, and Kyle can hear his grin. Every excruciatingly gentle press of his finger is like an electric shock that Kyle wants more of, and his hips are jutting backward now, untamed.
"Nuhh, please," Kyle says, sobbing. "Please, oh, you, I -"
"Do you really think you've earned a fucking from your sensei? You're so bad, Kyle. Look, you can't even keep still, needy little fucker."
"I know," Kyle says, shaking his head, sweat pouring down his face like tears. "I know, I'm bad, fuck me like I'm bad, make me take it, oh, God, please -"
"Alright, okay," Stan says. He's starting to sound pretty wrecked, too, and his hand is shaking as he pulls his finger out. "If you can get the lube for me and make it here and back without humping yourself against something and coming like a bad boy, I'll put it in you." He rubs his cock against Kyle's belly as he says so, and Kyle has to bite the tip of his tongue to keep from coming just from that. He nods and props himself up on shaking arms.
"The - the lube, okay," he says, so absorbed in the game that he's not even sure which decade they're in. "I'll go, yeah, I'll be back." He grabs Stan's face and kisses him deeply, moaning into it, wanting to get down on his knees and thank Stan for being alive, for being weird, for everything.
"Hurry," Stan whispers into Kyle's mouth when he pulls back. He locks eyes with Kyle, showing him his fattened pupils. "Fuck, I need it - you - so much, Kyle, goddamn-"
"Be right back!" Kyle flings himself toward the nearest bathroom. They keep lube under every sink in the house, even in the kitchen. He's back in record time, still hard, so ready to come that he can barely get the lube open. When he has, he dumps too much into his palm and slicks Stan fast, keeping his grip loose so Stan won't go off. Stan licks his lips and spreads his legs, still in the chair.
"Ride me, okay?" Stan says, his voice strained by everything he's holding back.
"Yes, sir," Kyle says, straddling Stan's lap, and Stan groans even before his cockhead touches Kyle's ass. He groans again when Kyle pulls himself open and lines Stan up with his hole, or maybe it's more of a growl. Stan's hands are tight on Kyle's sides, and he's watching Kyle's face as he lowers himself down. Kyle fucking loves it like this, no real prep expect for some prostate teasing. He loves this feeling of being opened by Stan's cock alone, taking it inch by inch.
"You're tight," Stan says breathlessly, as if this is news to him. The skin on Kyle's ass is still raw and burning, and he's brainless as he settles down lower, so wide open now, every conscious thought he can manage directly related to his ass. He's so full, stretched, tender from the spanking, squirming until the head of Stan's cock brushes his already stimulated prostate. He moans as it makes contact, his hands sliding up to Stan's shoulders and his head dropping back.
"That's good," Stan says, whispering now. He's shaking under Kyle's hands, watching him chew his lip and wiggle himself around, jerking every time the angle strikes just right. "Make - make yourself feel good, yeah. That's, oh. Kyle." Stan sighs and leans forward to lick Kyle's right nipple, drawing a low whine from him. He tries to hold Stan's head in place, but his hands are too weak to do much of anything, so Stan is free to move over to his left nipple, drawing it between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.
"I'm gonna come," Kyle says, sadly, because he never wants this strung up feeling to end, like he's slipped outside of time and there's nothing real anywhere, just his body and Stan's.
"Me, too," Stan says, whining the words out. "Oh - just - wait. Wanna fuck you hard -"
"Yeah," Kyle groans, leaning forward to cling to Stan, his arms around Stan's neck. "Hard, please, oh, need it-"
"Wait for me, dude," Stan says. Kyle nods, though he's not sure he can. He holds on tight while Stan lifts him out of the chair and kneels down to put him on the floor, leaning up over him, still inside him.
"Please," Kyle says, his head lolling back in forth on the carpet, eyes closed, because if he looks at Stan he'll come. "Fuck it out of me, fuck my ass, make me come -"
"Shh," Stan says, begging, and Kyle knows he should shut up or he won't get the hard thrusts he wants, but he can't stop babbling, lifting his hands to push his fingers into his hair and pull on his curls. He's arching, moaning, pleading with his whole body, not even sure now if he's still speaking or just moaning.
Stan lifts Kyle's legs up easily, almost like he's helping him stretch again, and Kyle would spread them wider if it were physically possible. He shouts with relief when Stan starts pounding him, panting and moving his hips until Stan is hitting that spot, that spot, Kyle doesn't even have a name for it right now, can't think of anything but right there, right there, and can't stop sobbing those words out even though Stan is already slamming him there, again and again, until Kyle comes all over himself, real tears spilling down the sides of his face. Stan is right there with him, making an almost mournful little noise as he drops down onto Kyle, his hips snapping forward with arrhythmic desperation as he pumps his orgasm into Kyle.
There's a moment when Kyle maybe blacks out, because he feels like he's waking from something when he finally cracks his eyes open, Stan heavy and breathless on top of him, both of them dripping with sweat. Kyle takes his shaking hands from his hair and slides one arm across Stan's heaving shoulders, the other cupping the back of his neck. Stan is still inside him, but Kyle can feel him leaking out already. He's pretty sure the load he blew was epic in proportion, too, cooling between his chest and Stan's, gluing them together.
"Shit," Stan says when he manages to lift himself up onto one elbow, his softening cock beginning to slip from Kyle. He grins, looking pretty proud of himself.
"Yeah," Kyle says in agreement. "That, um." He lets Stan roll him onto his side as his cock slides out, come pooling onto the carpet. Kyle is too tired to worry about that right now. He just lies there facing Stan, getting kissed, licking back at him lazily.
"When's the last time we came like that?" Stan asks. "At the same time?"
"I don't know," Kyle says, mumbling. He's pretty sure he's going to take a nap right here on the floor, yep. "That first time we dry humped in your bed?"
"Yeah," Stan says, sounding so dreamy and wistful that Kyle laughs. "Oh, Jesus, Kyle." Stan kisses the tip of his nose. "Was that, like, foreplay? The shit we used to do as kids? Like, we were getting each other hot for twenty years later?"
"Maybe," Kyle says. "I don't know. It was pretty innocent, dude."
"Um? Innocent? I was licking candy out of your mouth."
"Innocently! Speaking of candy, pass me those Reese's Pieces. I'm fucking starving, I feel like I just got high."
They eat candy on the floor for awhile, sighing with a self-congratulating air, as if they just scaled a mountain or saved a village. Kyle doesn't nap on the floor after all, because Stan somehow has the energy to carry him over to the couch. He pulls a blanket just up to their waists, as if to protect their modesty, and Kyle laughs as Stan settles down behind him, tucking him against his chest.
"What?" Stan says. He rests his chin on Kyle's shoulder.
"That leaf blower is still going," Kyle says. "That's amazing. I feel like we just fucked for hours. I think we time traveled or something."
"Oh, Christ, don't say that."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it was like we were kids again! But we were fucking."
"We were ageless," Kyle says, starting to fall asleep, not sure he's making sense. "For at least a few minutes there. We were bigger than numbers."
"Okay, now I think you are high."
"I am," Kyle says, but he's mostly just asleep, sinking into it fast and easy, Stan wrapped around him. He dreams that their house is made of Legos, everything bright and plastic, and he doesn't mind at all.