Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or its characters.

Vulnerable

By PopcornChicken66

I honestly didn't know how to react.

If there's one fucking person that can say or do something that not only catches me off guard but also momentarily cripples my ability to adapt to the situation properly, it's that fucking Jew Kyle.

It was unintentional, and that's what pisses me off the most.

We had started fucking a long time ago, spurred by a mistake on my part at Token's party, one that I no longer regret. We had gotten "together" not too long afterwards, though we don't really have a word for our relationship.

The particular night in mind, the one in which Kyle fucking ravished my metaphorical barriers, was nothing out of the ordinary; not even our position was changed up, something Kyle enjoyed experimenting with when he was in an especially good mood.

I predominantly indulged in those sessions.

Getting back to the topic, I'll just start from the beginning, which happens to be at the end of one of our sex drives.

My breathing became increasingly labored as I felt his walls closing around me, mere seconds from coming all over himself (and me as well). I wasn't far behind. His breath smelt of spearmint gum and hot air (if that can have a scent), an aroma I'd become accustomed to. I struggled to maintain my steady roll of hips, thrusting upwards so as to strike him in that spot that made him just lose it.

"Shit… Cartman, I'm gonna…"

I knew he was. I would have been stroking him to speed along the process so I could relieve myself, but on our 3rd fuck of the night, I was pretty exhausted and it was all I could do to hold myself up with both arms. However, the slight pudge on my belly seemed to do the job well enough. I pulled back to watch his face, always getting off on his climax expressions, don't ask me why. They were different almost every time. On this occasion his tongue dragged along the chapped exterior of his bottom lip before he bit down on it, chewing lightly before releasing and opening his jaws where that overworked, pink muscle pressed relentlessly to the roof of his mouth. His gaze, focused on me, wavered beneath his fluttering lashes, and his tongue unattached with a light cluck and he was moaning.

"Fuck… Fuck… E-Eric!"

My body responded instantly, the sound of my name groaning through his lips shooting straight to my dick. My hips continued to work at riding out our orgasms, my vision clouded over as routinely, but my brain shut down. When we were finished, I rolled off of him and stared at the ceiling. He was silent, most likely having realized what he'd said. I could not remember the last time he called me by my first name, and certainly he'd never said it like that.

My mind unfortunately began to slowly respond, and my already flushed cheeks heated to a further extent, the warmth spreading down the length of my neck and to the tips of my ears. My breaths became shudders, my body slightly shaking. Goosebumps littered my skin, and black dots flashed before my eyes in time to the quick, abnormal pace of my heartbeats.

"…Cartman?"

His voice sent a stabbing shiver down my spine, and I had to turn away from him before he caught sight of my face. I could not confront him while feeling like this, could not reveal my momentary weakness.

It was a couple minutes before he spoke again. "I'm sorry… I was just… I just… at the time I said it without thinking… I won't do it again…"

He thought I was angry at him. Of course. He couldn't just disregard my feelings like he used to and fall asleep, leaving me to my demise. No, he had to make everything more complicated. I didn't trust my voice in the slightest, so I remained quiet and unmoving. My breathing had calmed, but my face refused to cool down, the flush remaining as blazing as ever.

"…Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

My voice sounded just as I expected it to- vulnerable. I cringed visibly. I didn't want him to leave, however. In all honesty, I had become used to waking up next to the little ginger in the morning, curled up in a faggy sleeping position against my body. Since the summer started, any time we wouldn't have sex and he didn't spend the night, I felt as though something were missing, and although I knew exactly what it was I continued to tell myself I had just forgotten to sleep in socks or grab a glass of juice before bed. They were lies I was willing to believe.

"…Okay."

No other words escaped from his lips that night, and the voice plaguing my thoughts was put to rest in reality. However, that very voice insistently repeated that fucking word inside my head, admittedly getting me slightly hard again. When I felt him shift, I gathered the courage to glance over my shoulder, but he was asleep. I let my head fall back onto the pillow, allowing that pitch-cracking moan to echo in my mind and lull me to rest, glad I had gotten away with my response.

E-Eric!

I woke up the next morning with Kyle asleep in my unyielding embrace, unsurprisingly considering since we started our thing I was like a fucking metal scrap to his magnet. Yeah it's gay, I recognize that. I know he wakes up before me, because his fucking inner clock is fucked to the point that no teenager's should be, but he always just lies there waiting for me to rouse or dozes off in the process. It seemed that the latter had occurred in my favor, but as I attempted to shift away from him, his eyes opened instantaneously. Fucking light sleeper.

I refused to meet his stare, even when he spoke my name, my last name (thank God), questioningly.

"Are you mad at me?"

It's highly difficult for me to own up to the possible softness that settled into me at his small, concerned words. Damn bitch was chipping away at my hard edge.

"No."

"What's the matter, then? I told you I wouldn't say your name again, didn't I?"

I just shook my head and moved to get up, but he gripped my shoulder and pushed me to the mattress, pinning me down whilst straddling me. His expression was determined, and I knew his stubborn nature would persist until I angered him to the point of forgetting or confessed to my unease. Normally I would've gone for the former, but my head wasn't feeling up to producing insults or sly comments at the time, especially since it was morning.

"Fuck off, Kahl."

"Does it really bother you that much when I say your first name?"

I didn't answer.

"…Does it turn you on, Eric?"

I stiffened, fighting the redness in my face and turning my head away. My muscles tensed as he draped his naked body over mine, keeping our lips separated by meager inches.

"Do you get off when I moan your name, Eric?"

I didn't realize I was hard until he grinded his hips downward, eliciting a gasp from my throat. He kissed along my jaw line, hands dancing freely across my skin. His teeth grazed the spot right below my earlobe where I was most sensitive and my breath stuttered, pelvis jerking to meet his. I cursed myself for acting like him-the bottom bitch- but my thought process was foggy and I couldn't help it.

"Oh god, Eric!" That was all it took, paired with the third thrust of his hips, for me to prematurely come all over our stomachs. As if my earlier actions weren't humiliating enough, Kyle laughed and nuzzled my neck like a fag when I tried to hide my face in the pillow.

"Well shit, if that's all it takes why am I always the one on bottom?"

"F-Fuck you!" I mentally kicked myself for fumbling my words, but relaxed beneath his touch. I noticed that he was still hard and grinded my thigh in a way that made him whimper. Stimulating Kyle a couple more times and watching his feedback got me turned on again real quick, and just as I thought I was gaining the upper hand and was about to flip him, Kyle gestured for me to sit up against the headboard. I obeyed, a rare occurrence, and he reached for the lube. When the bottle was in my hands, I began to coat my fingers with it.

Early into our nothing-but-fucking stage, I had asked Kyle if he would rather prepare himself and he denied furtively, using the excuse that his fingers weren't as big as mine. Much later, however, he admitted that it felt good when I fingered him; something I took pride in to this day. After my digits were swathed, I inserted one into his still-tight hole and began pumping it, observing his face above mine as he kneeled on top of me. I fingered him, adding up to three digits before he was mewling and humping my hand, impatient.

I withdrew and waited, not sure what Kyle wanted, whether or not he planned to get on his fucking hands and knees or just sit there. My cock twitched irritably. Once he had finally recovered, Kyle gathered more lube and slathered my dick with it before poising himself. I raised my eyebrows briefly as I registered that this was the position he'd been planning on. He was topping without really topping.

He met my gaze steadily as he lowered himself, and our grips on one another tightened. His face screwed up in slight pain-apparently it hurt briefly every time- but he continued to descend until I was as deep inside of him as possible. There he waited for himself to adjust momentarily and then began to move. I could never get over the warm tightness surrounding my cock, elevating my pleasure levels to maximum; possibly exceeding. His hands on my shoulders were the only things keeping him sturdy, his breathing deep as he lazily kissed me, tongue nudging and stroking my own. Light moans and whines erupted softly from the recesses of his throat, and only I was able to capture them, to take them as rightfully mine, the initiator.

His rocking slowed from exertion, and I tried to keep him going by moving his hips but he honestly could not go any faster. The fucker was skinny, and lacked any muscle whatsoever. Biting my lip, he whispered against my mouth, "Could you…?"

I nodded and flipped us over, his legs hooking behind my back, arms wrapping around my neck. I thrust into him deep and rhythmic, having plenty of energy to stimulate his dick with my hand. Before I could, though, he spoke.

"Do you not want me to say your name?"

His voice was breathy and hard to comprehend, but our scarce verbal communication during sex usually was, so I had learned to decipher it. I considered his question in the little time we could cling to before we both ejaculated erratically. During the last incident in which he had moaned my name, a feeling of euphoria had swept my body, unknowingly enveloping me in a thin golden sheen of giddiness, unacknowledged beneath my stupor and denial.

Throughout this epiphany I came to the conclusion that it was fucking downright sexy when he said my first name, and I doubted it would ever lose its appeal.

"No, it's alright. Go ahead."

I reached out to finish him off, but my fingertips barely had to brush against his head before he came harshly, back arching.

"Oh god! Eric! Fucking- Fuck! Eric!"

My eyes glazed over as I came just as violently inside of him, carrying it out until I carefully relaxed on top of him, cautious not to crush him beneath my weight. His legs unwrapped from around my waist and straightened, but his hands remained, rubbing slow, elating circles between my shoulder blades.

"I like it when you pronounce my name normally, if it makes you feel any better," he whispered into my ear. Although I wasn't a screamer during sex like he was, this information could come in handy. Perhaps moaning his name just once during climax could extract an even feistier result from my little Jew.

"Like this, Kyle?"

I felt him smile into my hair. "Yeah, like that. It's weird though, so don't start doing it all the time or anything."

"I won't… Kyle."

His grasp on me tightened. "Stop it, Eric."

"Fuck! You stop it, Kahl!" I mentally cursed when I realized I had said his name as I normally do because of habit. "Your breath reeks, Jew."

"Like yours is any better, fatass. If you'd get off me, we could go brush our teeth."

I obliged, and dressed in fresh clothing as Kyle began to clothe himself in the previous night's attire before stopping. "I need to shower," he muttered, screwing up his face as his eyes landed on the sticky mess covering him from the chest down.

"Go right ahead, Kyle."

"I don't need an invitation, Eric."

And so, that is how our vulnerabilities were discovered. I'd put THE END in bold, obnoxious lettering, perhaps tacking on an 'and they lived happily ever after!' somewhere in there, but we're not like Big Gay Al, despite our immense displays of faggotry. You know what? Fuck it. As if I could conclude a story adequately anyway.

THE END.

~fin

A/N: Just mindless fluff serving as a minor companion fic to "Evolution." I had fun with it, and thought I might as well post it although I wasn't originally planning to. Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!