Kyle's POV

Days later, I don't get a phone call from the clinic, which means everything is A-okay and I can finally breathe a sweet sigh of fuckin' relief. No STDs this time. Thank fucking God. The last thing I wanted was for Cartman to have known he was kissing me while I was riddled with infection. Shit happens and maybe he wouldn't have cared... but it still wouldn't have been a pleasant feeling. It never is. It sucks. Even the carefullest people can end up on the unlucky end of things.

Cartman calls me later in the day, like he always does. I tell him the good news. He seems happy for me.

"So, still nothing about the house?" I ask.

Things haven't been going well for him trying to sell it.

"No," he murmurs, suddenly sounding annoyed and short-tempered. "I have no fuckin' clue how I'm going to find a sucker to buy it. No one is moving in this town - especially not INTO it. Everyone living here is nice and settled."

"True..." I admit solemnly. "Tiny towns are like that."

Tomorrow is Cartman's last night here. I'm upset about it, but I know it's immature and unfair of me to get all worked up, so I'm trying to remain mature about it.

"We worked something out so that once someone makes a decent bid that I want to accept, I'll come that weekend to sign the paperwork," he explains.

"And see me too, right?" I can't help but ask.

"Of course, Kahl," he replies sweetly. "When are you off work?" he asks.

"In 3 more hours," I moan. "But I plan to use my paid time off for tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that for me, Kahl,"

"But I want to," I say. "Gotta make your last day in South Park special, don't you think?"

He laughs. "True. I've been trying to get all my packing finished today, so that I don't have to worry about that shit tomorrow.

"Yeah," I say, feeling a little solemn.

I wonder how long we'll last when he's gone. It might make me sound paranoid, but I keep thinking about what will happen tomorrow, next week, next month, next year…

I don't want him to meet someone new – whether it be another guy or a girl. It worries me. He'll be off in a city much bigger than South Park and I won't ever know what he's doing. It's not that I don't trust him and shit… I do. It's mostly just the fact that I think he could easily find someone better than me. I guess it's a self-esteem issue.

Nonetheless, I don't want to bring it up. It sounds stupid in my head and it would sound even stupider aloud.

"So, what's up?" he asks me. "You're being quiet."

"Nothin'," I say, trying to sound more upbeat. "Just thinking… working… You know the drill."

"Liar," he says, calling me out much like I did him not that long ago. "Don't be so down. Denver's not that far."

"Yeah, yeah," I say dismissively. I feel like two and a half hours IS too far but there's no point in arguing about it anymore.

"You want me to come over when you're done with work?" he asks.

"Sure," I say, although I don't know what we'll do. Talk, dinner, and make-out, like usual? With finally getting my results back I'm sure he would want to have sex now and feel much better about doing so, but then again maybe he wouldn't. Maybe I wouldn't want to. What if we do and then I never see him again? I would feel so fucking stupid and used. Sure, I've been used plenty of times before but to let someone in the way I have let him in- it's been years since I've let myself be so vulnerable with someone else.

"Or we could go out and do something fun, since you don't have to work tomorrow," he suggests.

"If that's what you want to do, then sure," I go along with it. "What did you have in mind?"

"You know what we should do, Kahl?" His tone suddenly seems excited.

I can't help but smile at whatever asinine idea Fatass has already schemed up in his head. "What's that, Cartman?"

"We should go out for a night on the town!" He declares.

I raise a brow, although he can't see it. "A night on the town, Cartman? Doing what exactly?"

"Well maybe not here, but Colorado Springs is closer than Denver is. We should go there for dinner, and then, shall we say, paint the town red?"

I can't help but laugh. "All right, sounds good," I say.

I can practically feel his satisfaction coming through the receiving end of the phone. "Great. Swing by around six and we'll head out."

"Sounds good," I tell him.

With that, we exchange byes and hang up. Then I get back to work.

.

.

Around four, I'm free and I scramble to get ready. Two hours is plenty, but I'm the kind of person who takes a while to get ready. Mostly because I like to take my time.

I shower first, since I neglected to do that in the morning. I decide against doing anything about my hair. I'll let it stay in its natural state. I hate using too many hair products. They always feel gross at the end of the night. Besides, I'm no longer that little kid who is wildly insecure about his hair. Now I just find other things to be wildly insecure about.

I only use a certain amount of product in my hair, just enough to tame my curls a bit. But I decide to not try to glue them to my head with gel like I used to. I want to be comfortable tonight. I want to be myself tonight. After all, I guess that's the person Cartman has been really starting to like.

After shaving I put on some Sauvage by Christian Dior, then head to the closet. I search in my closest and find a dark green button-down shirt. I'll iron this and this should be dressy enough. Next, I already know which jeans I want to pair it with (tight fitting but not extreme), as well as some black leather dress shoes.

I look in the mirror one last time. I leave the first two buttons on my shirt unbuttoned. I guess I DO look good! Green is always a safe choice for me since it brings out my eyes. Man, I can't wait to see what Cartman is wearing tonight. I'm practically drooling at the thought. With his perfect, buff body and handsome face, he would look great in anything. Sometimes it really is a challenge to compose myself around him, and not just by the way he looks. It's his mannerism, his behavior, how much he cares. He's something else alright.

I look at my cell phone. 5:45. Should I text him yet?

I decide yes.

A moment later, he texts back and tells me to come by. I pocket my phone and slip into my shoes and coat before heading next door.

I knock before simply letting myself in. "Hey," I call.

A moment later he appears with a smile. "Hey," he says, adjusting the cuff on his shirt. "Ready for some fun?"

"Always," I respond, smiling back at him.

With that, we head out. He digs his keys out of his pocket, locking his apartment door.

"So, where to first?" I ask him.

"It's a surprise," he says.

I don't complain. For once, I'll just go with the flow. He grabs my hand as we exit the apartment, letting me go when we reach his car. We settle inside and begin driving.

"Colorado Springs, right?" I ask.

"Yep, so it'll be a good drive, but it'll totally be worth it Kahl. Promise."

.

.

After about an hour of driving, we pull up into what looks like a really snazzy restaurant. I see gold lettering outside on the front entitled "Anthy's". Cartman puts his car in park and then gets out to gives the valet driver his keys. He hurries over to my side to get my door. He opens up and offers his arm, all old-fashioned like. I giggle and take it, knowing that we have to look cheesy as fuck. But I don't care. When we walk to the entrance of the restaurant, Cartman opens the door and theatrically gestures for me to go first. I lightly shove his shoulder in retaliation but step inside.

Wow. This place is decadent.

I immediately take notice of the large chandelier which is probably the biggest damn chandelier I've seen in my life. I also notice the fountain up against the wall, which has a renaissance-looking statue of a woman wearing a toga-like dress nonchalantly pouring water out of her basin. Everything- and I mean everything- seems to be trimmed in gold, even the large desk area where several hosts were waiting. All the waiters were wearing white button-down shirts with black bow-ties as well as dress pants. The hosts were wearing the same thing except they had on a tuxedo blazer in addition. It's strange, but I haven't seen a single female waitress or hostess.

"Good evening gentlemen," one of the hosts greeted us. He was older, maybe mid 40's, but in shape and well-groomed. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Two for Cartman," my brunet counterpart responds confidently.

All I can say is that I'm glad I actually took the time to look decent today. This place is choice. I've never been to a restaurant as nice as this one. It's almost intimidating – like I'm afraid I'll somehow fuck up and people will think I don't belong here. The last thing I want to do is fuck things up. I feel like I've done enough of that lately.

We're lead to a table in the corner – nice and private. Once given our menus, the host departs and tells us our waiter will be with us shortly.

"Damn, this place is nice," I say.

"Only the best for my guy," Cartman coos.

I give him a little smile and then open up the menu. "I have no idea what to get," I admit. "Have you been here?"

"For a couple meetings," he says.

Part of me wonders if those "meetings" were actually dates, but I let it slide. I'm not going to let my insecurities ruin a nice night out.

"What's good?" I ask him.

"Everything, Kahl, really," he responds.

I take a look and see that there are a lot of French dishes. "Is this a French restaurant?" I ask.

"I don't know if I would say that it is a French restaurant per se, but there are a lot of French inspired dishes."

I look again. Champignon portabella aux quatres fromages. Crevettes sauce boursin. Moules marinieres ou a la creme. What the fuck?

"I don't know what any of this shit means Cartman," I admit, frustrated.

"There's a few classic dishes. Why don't you try beef bourguignon? Or maybe the crepe de poulet? Those are my faves." he suggests calmly before taking a sip of water.

I sigh. "I know the first thing you suggested has beef, but what is the second one?"

"The crepe de poulet?" he asks. I nod. "It's basically a crepe with chicken, cheese and broccoli. It's pretty fucking amazing, Kahl,"

"I'll take that, then." I sigh. A part of me feels frazzled, being in a place like this. It's really too high-class for me. But then another part of me feels honoured and even kind-of giddy being here. Maybe that's the old me telling myself that I don't deserve to be in a place like this, and the new me is contradicting that and starting to believe that maybe I do actually belong here.

I feel a warm hand on my knee that pulls me from my thoughts.

"Relax, Jew," the brunet says. "There you go, over-analyzing shit again. Can you promise me one thing, kike?"

"What's that?" I ask, having no idea what he will say next. Hell, it's always been that way with Cartman.

"Promise me you'll try not to think too much tonight and that you'll actually keep your head where your feet are." He smiles and squeezes my knee, his big brown eyes looking gorgeous.

I smile back and say, "All right. I'll definitely try my best."

When the waiter shows up, he asks us what we'd like to drink. Cartman looks at me first.

"Water is fine for me," I say politely.

I know if I ordered wine, Cartman would give me the business… understandably. The last thing I need right now is to be drinking alcohol of any kind. Right now, it's not something I can do. I can't pace myself. I can't just have one drink. I need to have five or seven.

Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to pace myself. I might just have to avoid the hard stuff forever.

I've been debating on going to AA meetings when Cartman leaves. I need something to keep myself on track and that might be a good start. When he's gone, I don't want to relapse. Meetings might not be for me, but trying it out wouldn't hurt. I'll never know if I don't try, right?

Cartman orders himself a non-alcoholic drink as well and then the waiter tells us she'll be back to take our orders soon.

I wonder if Cartman would have ordered alcohol if he was here with someone else. I wonder if he's going to abstain because of me. I don't want to force that on him. It makes me feel kind of guilty.

"Do you know what you're going to get to eat?" I ask him.

Before he can answer my question our waiter comes to the table.

"Are you ready for me to take you order, gentlemen?" he asks.

"I'll have the beef bourguignon," Cartman starts, smiling.

"I'll have the crepe de poulet," I order, feeling a bit self-conscious with the French pronunciation.

Once the waiter takes our orders and takes our menus, he leaves.

"So, we basically ordered your two favorites, right?" I ask my brunet counterpart. He smiles and squeezes my knee under the table.

"That's right Kahl. This way, we can share and I can have both of my favorites," he chuckles.

"You mean have your cake and eat it too?" I ask, smiling.

He shrugs. "Something like that." While he's looking away, I take him in for a brief second, hoping he doesn't know what I'm doing. Moses, does he looking breath-taking wearing a classic, wine-red button down shirt. Cartman has just the first two buttons un-buttoned, his muscular chest showing just enough where he's definitely being a tease. His brown hair is parted perfectly off to the side and, in a way, he resembles a brunet, modern-day version of James Dean.

"Speaking of cake," he starts, "I know these two dishes are going to be fucking phenomenal, but don't fill up too much, Kahl. You're going to have to need to save room for dessert."

I laugh while drinking my water, almost causing me to choke. "So you're going to force dessert on me, Cartman? Really?"

"Really," he insists. "And you must order the most indulgent dessert."

"All right," I agree with a little laugh.

I need to loosen up. He helps me to do that by taking me to all these new places and forcing me to try new things. Well, perhaps 'force' isn't the correct word. It's not like it's completely against my will. It's just not something I have experience with.

I never left my comfort zone until he started bringing me out like this. I think it's a good thing, I really do.

I listen to Cartman talk about his favourite desserts on the menu, smiling to myself. He sounds so passionate when he talks about food. I guess that's one thing that will never change.

"What?" he asks, cutting himself off when he catches me staring.

"Nothing," I say. "You're cute."

He chuckles at that. "All right, then. So are you."

I just smile wider, feeling all swoony.

"By the way, what did you have planned after this?"

"After this?" he asks. I nod. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we should go to Reign and have some fun there." He winks at me, obviously implying something. I have heard of Reign before, but I can't remember what exactly it is. I sit there, puzzled. I know it's in the back of my mind.

Oh shit.

"Cartman, we are NOT going clubbing!" I protest, now remembering what it is.

"Gahdammit, Kahl! Calm your tits!" he snaps back.

We get a couple of stares from nearby tables.

"Calm your tits," he says in a much lower voice. "You don't have to drink to dance and have fun. I'm going to prove it to you."

"I never went out when I drank," I started. "Clubbing isn't my scene!"

"Kahl, I know you went clubbing back in school," he argues.

"That was years ago, Cartman!" I say. "Things are different now!"

"How so?" he asks, taking a drink of water.

I cross my arms. "I just don't do stuff like that anymore."

"Stuff like what? Having fun?" He chuckles and wears his eat-shit grin with pride.

"I have fun," I insist, but the words sound stupid – like a blatant lie. Before Cartman walked back into my life, I definitely didn't have fun. I stayed in. Fun, to me, was letting assholes into my bed and drinking 'til I forgot all about my problems.

"Oh, do you?" Cartman asks teasingly.

What does good, healthy fun look like? I guess it looks like this – going out with someone you like, doing new things…

But it still makes me nervous. Trying new things causes me anxiety. Here Cartman is yet again throwing me out of my comfort zone. Hopefully I won't land on my face.

"Yes," I say. "I have fun with YOU."

He softens at that. "Aw," he coos. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. I have fun with you, too, Kahl."

It isn't too far into our conversation when the waiter brings out both of our entrees, which look and smell delicious.

I take a bite of the chicken crepe and I feel as though it blows my expectations out of the water.

"Damn, Cartman," I say in between chews. "This really IS good!"

He smiles while cutting into his beef bourguignon, "I told ya, Kahl." He drinks some of his water, looks at his plate, and then looks back at me. "Do you want to try some of mine?"

"Sure," I answer.

He forks off a piece and, instead of putting it on my plate, holds it up and says, "say, 'ahhh!'"

I giggle, embarrassed. I hesitate, but decides to go along with it. "Ahh..." I say timidly, feeling immensely stupid.

"You can do better than that, Kahl." The brunet says, clearly not satisfied. "Now say, 'ahhh!'"

"Ahhh!" I open my mouth wider and say it a little louder.

He slowly puts the piece of the beef bourguignon in my mouth and I close my mouth, staring my date directly in the eyes. His big brown eyes watch me intently, and once my mouth is shut, he slowly pulls his fork out. I slowly chew, but not for an instant break my gaze with his.

"Good?" he asks me expectantly.

I nod and smile before swallowing. "Very."

He smiles back. "So, I have good taste?"

"Oh, yes," I say. "You're with me, after all."

He chuckles. "That's true."

I feel like I'm grinning a lot lately. I guess he brings that out in me. I feel like I went years without smiling at all. Maybe there were fake smiles here and there – the kind you put on to get people to shut up… but this is differently. This is real. I don't have to think about it, it just happens. It's something I do effortlessly.

I guess that says a hell of a lot about how I feel about him.

Eric Cartman.

Who woulda thunk it?

I'm really falling hard for him.

It was not long that we finish our entrees, and I barely notice as the waiter comes and takes our plates out of the way.

"By the way," the handsome brunet starts, "You look really good tonight, Kahl. Been meaning to tell you that."

I immediately feel my face turn red as I tuck my chin into my chest. "Thanks," I respond timidly. I eye him, once again noticing how perfect his hair is and his neatly ironed, buttoned-down shirt. He looks chic and classic. "You look amazing yourself," I breathe.

"Oh Kahl," he dramatically says my name and grins. "You are too sweet,"

"Well, you know I really mean it," I say.

He nods. "Yeah, I do."

I grab his hand under the table and squeeze it tightly. "I mean it Cartman," his big brown eyes lock into mine, his expression serious. "You look really, REALLY good tonight," I reemphasize. Suddenly I realize how I'm starting to feel kinda turned on, so I let go of his hand and turn my gaze to my lap. I have to behave myself for once, to show Cartman that I am more mature than he thinks.

I think he senses it, because he gives me this funny little smile. There's nothing mocking about it, though. He just looks a little pleased and amused.

We fall into a comfortable silence and eat our food, chatting mildly every so often and adding comments here and there. When we're finished our meals, we have grandiose desserts and then Cartman pays the very expensive bill. I can't deny that it makes me feel a little bit bad, but I'm trying not to let it. I'm trying to tell myself I deserve to be treated every so often.

I do, right?

And if he wants to treat me, then he should, right?

"What's on your mind?" he asks me knowingly.

I just shrug it off as we leave the restaurant. He puts an arm around me then adds, "Don't worry about the bill."

"Okay," I say softly.

I wouldn't have been able to afford it anyway.

"So, what else is on the agenda for tonight?" I ask him.

"We're going to Reign like I stated earlier," he answers in a matter-of-fact way.

Oh shit. I should've known he was being serious.

I sigh as we walk outside and we wait for the valet driver to pull up his car.

"I should've known there was no talking you out of it."

"Stop acting so moody Kahl," he says. "You will enjoy it."

I shrug. "Whatever makes you happy, Cartman."

We continue to talk on the way to the club. I hear the loud club music with the pounding base even in the parking lot. Once we park, I can already see the long line of people all dressed up and waiting to get in. Even over all their heavy coats, I can see how all these 20 and 30 somethings are looking their absolute best tonight. "Dammit, we should have come sooner!" I look at the time on my phone. It's 11:00. That IS early for a club to be pack already.

"Patience is a virtue Jew," he puts his right arm around my shoulder. "It'll go fast," he says.

"You come here often?" I ask, the cold winter air being reflected as I speak.

He chuckles in that boyish way of his. "I've never been here before," my companion says. "I've just heard a lot of good things about it."

I should probably try to let loose a little bit. If I don't, then there's no way I'm going to have fun.

I don't really club. This isn't my scene. It's Cartman's… and maybe he's bringing here because he wants to share it with me. So, I should stop being so sour. I let myself relax, physically and mentally. I force the tension to leave my body and then I reach for Cartman's hand, taking it in mine. He glances at me and smiles.

"Good?" he asks me.

"Good," I say.

True to his word, the line does go fast and soon enough we're in the nightclub. I take a second to glance around and admire everything that's going on in front of me – bright, neon lights, drinks, loud club music and bodies dancing so closely together.

"Ready for more fun?"

I give him a little smile. "Yeah."

We walk to a busy bartender wearing a suit but had full tattoo-sleeved arms and large gauges in his ears. We wait for him to take notice of us. I can't help but wonder what Cartman plans to order now. When the bartender sees us, Cartman orders a red bull and then turns to me.

"Whaddya want? A water? Coke?"

"I'll have a red bull too." I figure I'm going to need the energy as well.

"Two red bulls please," he orders. The bartender promptly brings back two red bulls and Cartman pays.

I open it and take a swig. It reminds me of my college days, when I did occasionally go out and party. But usually I was drinking red bull with vodka, not by itself.

I notice some of the people in the club look to be my age and even older and are clearly feeling the effects of alcohol while they were dancing on the dance floor. Christ, some of these people are a good bit older than me and they actually look like they're having fun. I guess sometimes I feel like- because of how badly I've hurt myself over the years- I feel older than I actually am. Truth is, I've been jaded and tired. I've been feeling like my best days were behind me. But then again, how would I really know that my best days were behind me if I didn't put any effort into today?

"Wanna dance?" Cartman yells in my ear so that I can hear him over the loud R&B song. I don't move.

"C'mon Kahl," he gestures me towards the dance floor.

"But what about our drinks?" I ask. He takes my drink and puts both of the red bulls on a ledge near the dance floor. He doesn't even respond while he grabs my hands and walks me to floor.

I look down and see that the floor is actually lighting up. This club is really nice. It's set up like an opera house; the DJ on the stage and the VIP is up high on the balconies, looking down on us at the floor. I look at the people around me, dancing and clearing not giving a fuck what anyone thought. Some people can dance while others... Well, not so much. I know which category I fit in.

"Hey Jew," my date yells while he cuts a rug, looking a bit goofy. I can't help but laugh.

"Ya just gonna stand there all night or what?"

Very awkwardly, I start moving, trying to remember how I used to dance back in the day when I was messed up. How could I remember, I was hammered all those times!

"C'mooon, you can do better than that," he teases me. "You know what they say about Jews – they have no rhythm. Wanna prove the old saying wrong?"

I roll my eyes at that. "It's not a saying, you dork. You're the only one who says that."

"So?" he asks with a snort. "Don't be afraid of looking silly. You really need to loosen up!"

I bite the inside of my cheek. I don't want to feel nervous, but I kind of do. I'm not really one for dancing these days. Only when I'm super smashed and I'm definitely too sober for it right now.

Nonetheless, when Cartman holds out his hands, I tentatively accept. He leads me into a fast-paced and ridiculous dance as we sync up with the tune of the song. I can't help but laugh. I feel fucking stupid, but I guess it's fun. I'm trying not to care. I'm trying to remind myself that no one cares how silly I look. Half of them look just as silly.

"See?" Cartman says to me, raising his voice so it's loud enough to hear over the loud music. "It's fun, right?"

I let out a breathless laugh.

He's so good at this. He's so good at being sure of himself. He's so good at pulling me out of my shell and making me feel comfortable.

I like being with him. It's always something new and exciting.

It sucks he's leaving.

I'm going to miss having him so close.

Denver is close enough, but it's still kind of far.

Still, I'm going to try not to think about that tonight. I'm going to try and have fun – for Cartman's sake. Plus, I know he'd probably just roll his eyes at me if he knew I was sad to see him go.

After a couple of fast paced songs, the DJ plays "Liquor" by Chris Brown. I roll my eyes at how cheesy it is.

"Don't like Chris Brown?" Cartman asks with a sly expression.

"Not especially," I say. I do think that it has a sexy sound to it, but I would never admit that. Gradually our bodies get closer. I start to think less about my dancing the more I stare into those big brown eyes, locked right onto mine. Cartman is smiling pleasantly but his expression turns more serious as our bodies get closer. I barely notice his hand on the lower back of my back. Before I know it, we're actually grinding on each other! I turn red while I feel my pants get tighter. I glance around and see a bunch of other folks doing the same; none of them seem to be watching us or care that two guys were grinding on each other.

I feel a hand gingerly but firmly turn my gaze back to his face. Cartman doesn't say anything but the message he conveys is clearly in his eyes. He's definitely saying, "look at me", which I do. I can't help but notice how hot my brunet friend looks while he's sweating but he still smells amazing, with whatever cologne he's wearing. I don't notice myself sweating but I do notice both of our breathing getting heavier while I put my arms around the back of his neck while our hips continue to gyrate deeper and deeper, harder and harder.

I'm ready to leave. NOW.

Cartman senses this because he eyes me and then nods to the door, silently asking me if I am ready to head out. I nod back and he grabs my hand again.

"Yeah, let's go."

So, we do. Outside, the cool air greets out sweaty faces and I'm realizing just how hot it was in the club. I glance at my phone, pulling it out of my pocket. We were only there for a couple hours, but it felt like longer.

"My place?" I offer.

"Sure," he says. "That sounds good. We'll make a night of it."

I think we have been. This is the most fun I've had in quite a while and I almost don't want it to end. But it's inevitable. This would be a nice way to end it, but I don't know if we'll actually end up screwing tonight. I want to, but he seems to want to take things slow. I guess that is nice, but I also really like sex and I want to have sex with him. I really want it. Especially now. He got me all riled up.

Cartman lets go of my hand and puts an arm around me instead, keeping me close. It feels like a possessive gesture, but I like it.

Not too surprisingly, the drive home is a bit awkward and silent. Part of me thinks we are just trying to cool off with the windows down and the cold night air cooling us on the way back, but I know that the real reason is because we're both thinking and wondering about tonight.

As much as I want us to finally do it, I'm also thinking about tomorrow. Regardless what happens here on out, I know how sad I'm going to be. It's really a bittersweet feeling.

"Didja have fun, Kahl?" Cartman finally breaks the silence, smiling but his eyes still fixated on the road. I chuckle when I realize just how fast he's going.

"I had a fucking blast," I respond.

"See, Jew?" he says. "Life is fun when you put yourself out there. It's calling 'taking risks'," he says facetiously.

"I know I know," I respond sarcastically. A couple of seconds go by, and then I add, "Seriously though Cartman, thank you. For everything."

.

.

When we pull up to the apartment complex I suddenly feel like there's a 50 pound rock in my stomach. My heart is beating faster and I almost feel nauseous. Shit, why am I so nervous?

He opens the door for me while I get out and shakily fish for my keys in my pocket. We get to my place and I unlock my door. We both walk in, somewhat fast, kicking out shoes off immediately.

Silence.

I stare at him and he stares at me. I feel like time has stopped. My heart is going absolutely crazy. In a naturally and organic way we get closer and all of a sudden we're kissing each other passionately, arms wrapped around each other, grabbing and wanting. Cartman gently pushes me up against the wall while he hurriedly kisses my neck, making me moan. He presses me up against the wall harder and I wrap a leg around him. He kisses my neck and unbuttons my shirt, leaving a trail of kisses on my neck and traveling down. I run my fingers through his once perfectly-groomed hair and roll my head back.

I let out a moan. Before I can stop myself, I think he hears it because he lets out a throaty chuckle and says, "Eager?"

"Don't tease," I respond, sounding somewhat breathy.

"But teasing is the best part," he says sweetly.

Of course he'd like that part.

His hands touch the skin on my stomach. His palm slides up and down. His hands are warm and strong. They feel nice.

I tighten my grip on him and he lifts me up. I put both legs around his torso and he walks us into the bedroom. He's strong. I like that. It makes me wonder what he's like in bed. I hope he's a little controlling. I hate wishy-washy guys who just let me do whatever I want. That's no fun.

When we reach my bedroom, Cartman lays me on the bed – not too gentle and not too rough. I perch myself up to stare at him. "You're ready to do this?"

"More than ready," I assure him, I roll onto my side and reach into my nightstand drawer, getting out a box of condoms and a bottle of lube.

He smiles a small smile. It looks sincere, unlike so many of his smug or spiteful smiles. "All right." He leans down and kisses me, quick and chaste, before sitting back up. He pushes my knees apart and settles in between, reaching for the button on my pants.

I want him to fuck me senseless.

My heart keeps beating like a drum, though. Never before has sex made me nervous. Well, maybe the first time… but that's something I hardly remember.

"I'm going to take my time," Cartman says, almost like he's trying to assure me it won't hurt… but it won't. I'm loose enough by now. I'm used to it.

"You don't have to," I say vaguely.

"Well, I'm still going to," he responds. "I want this to feel great for the both of us. Here, lift your hips."

I do so and he removes me pants in one swift motion.

After he takes off my pants, he swiftly pulls my boxers off and then my shirt. He unbuttons his own shirt and lets it fall to the floor, revealing his buff chest and six pack. I reach out to take off his pants but he unbuckles his belt, reading my mind. He quickly takes them off and I see that he is most definitely packing and looks hard as fuck. I reach out and grab him.

"Mmmm..." Cartman moans and smiles. I lean forward, trying to re position myself. Before I could though he grabs my shoulders and pushes me back on my pillow, almost roughly. He kisses my neck and travels down, from my chest to my stomach. I run my hands through his messy, thick brown hair. It isn't long before he takes me into his hot mouth and sucks me slowly but hard, still working his hands all over me.

"Oh God!" I cry in ecstasy. I don't even notice when he takes a second to put two fingers in his mouth to then inside me while he resumes sucking me. Moses, he knows what he is doing more than any fuckboy that I've fooled around with. I close my eyes, whimpering. If he keeps this up I may get off before we actually have sex, which is not what I want to happen.

"Shit," I say, letting out a shuddery sigh, squirming around beneath him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Fucking hell.

It feels good. He feels good. Too good. And he's so fucking hot. He's probably the hottest guy I've ever been with. He definitely knows what he's doing, unlike half the clowns I've been fucked by. He's hitting all the right spots and he isn't even fucking me yet. Thinking about it is making me even hornier.

"Hurry…" I murmur breathlessly.

He lets out a chuckle and then teases me with, "Just relax and enjoy, Kahl. I like seeing this side of you – you're so coy and cute, like a little kitten."

"Sh-shut up," I respond, stuttering out the words stupidly.

He snickers some more, shoving his fingers in deeper and then moving them around.

I've been craving this and it's going to be SO satisfying.

He takes a break for a quick second down there and bends over to kiss me. He stops, and with a slight smile asks me, "You ready?"

"Oh yes," I immediately breathe out. With that he grabs a condom and the lube that I had out on the nightstand and I watch with anticipation while he puts it all on. Then he bends down and kisses me again, passionately but sweetly. I look into those big, brown eyes that now have a more serious expression. He straightens his back and gently pushes my legs apart wider.

"OH FUCK!" I yell at the sensation. It shoots through my body and for a second I feel paralyzed. I quickly get my feeling back when Cartman pulls out and then pushes back in. He first does this a few times at a slow pace but gradually he goes faster.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!" I cry in rhythm to our bodies moving in unison. That indescribable feeling comes back but instead of feeling paralyzed, I feel my legs and feet go numb.

"Mmmm Kyle..." he pants my name, pronouncing it correctly. The sweat on him is very visible and it only makes him look hotter.

"Fuck, Eric!" I moan, feeling myself getting closer.

At this rate, it's really not going to take me long at all. I haven't been fucked since he caught me with that random loser those weeks back. This is so much better than that. This is so much better than any other cheap fuck I've had in the past. For the first time in a long time, this isn't a distraction. This isn't something I'm doing to hurt myself or to numb myself. This isn't something I'm doing with the wrong person. This is something I'm doing with the right person. This is something I'm doing because it's the right thing to do. It's the perfect time to do it.

Cartman is treating me like I'm worth more than I used to think. I never used to crave that kind of attention, but now I get lost in it.

It makes me want more for myself. I never used to let myself have good things. I want things to stay this great, but I feel like things will inevitably come crashing down soon enough. Nonetheless, I won't think about that now. I'll just enjoy things until they do. I'll just enjoy this moment.

I palm at my erection, slowly rubbing up and down. I hiss, letting out another string of expletives, followed by a string of whiney moans.

With my right hand I reach out and grab Cartman's left hand. We interlock fingers and hold each other's hands tight, knowing that we were almost there.

I rub myself with my left hand hard, each stroke being at the same exact time he gyrates deep into me.

"Kyle, I'm- gonna- ugh!" my lover tries to say between breaths. My cries get louder and now I realize I'm starting to scream while my version turns dark and I see stars. My legs and feet tingle and Cartman's hand starts shaking, still holding my hand tightly .Then, on Cartman's final thrust he lets out a long, husky moan and I come at the same time, feeling it all over my left hand and stomach. He breathes heavy and takes a moment before he carefully pulls out. The first thing he does is bend over me and kiss me, caressing my face.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

I smile and nod. "That was- amazing," I say, trying to catch my breath. Cartman lies down on top of me, now playing with my hair.

"And what you did with your mouth!" I continue. "I just wish you would've let me return the favor,"

Cartman shrugs nonchalantly, still playing with my hair. "Sometimes it's good to let yourself be spoiled," he says. "And I felt like spoiling you."

I smile at that. "I'll have to spoil you next time, then."

"Deal," he says, smiling back.

He rolls off of me a minute later and we lie side by side. I inch closer and then curl into him, throwing a leg over him. I feel possessive. It's a feeling I get sometimes towards certain people. It makes me wonder if he feels this way towards me, too. I hope he does, but I don't want to ask him. I want him to prove it to me, instead.

"Today was perfect," I say. "Everything about it."

"For me, too," he responds. He starts playing with my hair some more and I close my eyes. It feels nice. It makes me drowsy. I often get drowsy after sex. I also usually want to be left alone, but right now it's the last thing in the world I want.

It's going to break my heart to see him go.

I know he'll be back, but will it be the same?"

As if he is reading my mind, he whispers, "Don't think about it."

"Okay," I whisper back.

I won't. For now.

I'll try to welcome new changes instead of shying away. Change is inevitable, after all. Maybe this was all inevitable.