Author's Note: Okay…so this is the REAL sequel to "Bully." I promise. xD The whole KylexKenny thing wasn't working out, and I felt like the setting wasn't conducive to following up on my OTP, so here we go again. Some stuff in the beginning makes more sense if you read "Bully" but after that, it is a standalone fic. Pairings (as of right now) are KennyxGothStan, CartmanxButters, DamienxPip and KevinxShelly. All characters belong to Matt Stone and Trey Parker unless otherwise noted. Lyrics belong to Cascada, from her song "Bad Boy." Reviews much loved, flames not so much…if you don't like slash, don't read. For now, a T rating since it's very mild BL, slight hentai innuendo but nothing explicit. Kanpai!

Bad Boys

Chapter One

by MT Yami

I don't understand how we started doing this, but I convinced myself, eventually, that we were just helping each other mend our broken hearts.

Stan Marsh gripped the steel frame of Kenny McCormick's rusty bed, his jet-black hair plastered against his face.

"Jesus Christ, Kenny, I always feel like this bed is going to break."

Kenny grinned wolfishly and rested his chin next to Stan's shoulder. "Yeah, Tweek always says the same thing. You almost done?" He dug his fingers into the soccer player's strong shoulders, his thrusts quickening.

"Yeah." Stan bit his lower lip, his lower back pressing into Kenny's slick torso. "You bring Tweek here to do it? Poor kid, it must totally freak him out."

"He likes it plenty good, don't you worry." Kenny grunted lowly, taking one last deep thrust. The dark-haired boy cried out his own climax a few seconds later, collapsing against the frame of the bed and ignoring how uncomfortable it was.

They didn't move for a few minutes, until Kenny finally disengaged himself and stood, stretching his long, languid limbs.

"Hungry?"

Stan quirked an eyebrow. "Not if you're going to offer me frozen waffles."

"Haha, your guyliner is totally fucked up now. Talk about bedroom eyes." Kenny reached for the half-empty bottle of Budweiser sitting on his dresser and took a swig. "Don't you think you're getting a little old for the goth-emo scene?"

The dark-haired boy narrowed his kohl-smudged eyes. "I have my reasons, Kenny, and you know it."

"When are you going to get over that ho? I mean…really, Stan. It's not healthy."

Stan burst out into ironic laughter. "At least I'm not pining for some fatass Nazi. I loved Wendy, and for some time she loved me back. You're just chasing after an asshole who always had eyes for someone else."

The sandy-blond gritted his teeth but suppressed an outburst. "You're paying me for all this, Stan. Don't forget that. And don't let the door hit you in the vagina on the way out, it's going to be sore until the next time you need to forget about Wendy."

Stan's expression evolved into one of pure hatred. "Yeah? Well, you know what, maybe I'm just not going to come back and let your poor ass starve."

Kenny chuckled. "That's almost funny. You know you're not the only one, and you will be back. I know you will."

"Whatever. Have fun whoring yourself out for the rest of the afternoon."

As Stan stormed out of Kenny's room, blazing half-naked past a very astonished Kevin McCormick and Shelly Marsh, who had probably been making out on the living room couch.

Unfortunately, he knew Kenny was right. He grabbed his shirt and jacket, which were lying unceremoniously next to the front door where the taller boy had ripped them off. Without Kenny, Stan would have never even begun to forget about Wendy; she consumed his thoughts day and night, and the only respite he found from the torture was in the sandy-blond's sinewy arms.

As he stepped out into the fall afternoon, just barely marred by a slight chill, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked back up at Kenny's window. The tall blond was still up and drinking his beer, naked.

"Fuck, dude."

Be my bad boy, be my man
Be my weekend lover
But don't be my friend
You can be my bad boy
But understand
That I don't need you in my life again
No I don't need you again

--

"Whatever. Have fun whoring yourself out for the rest of the afternoon."

Kenny shook his head, downing the rest of the beer bottle in his hand. Fuck that Stan. Always trying to make things more personal than they needed to be.

Stan was always running away when he was frustrated with the way his life was turning out, and until Kyle had left for Yale, he had run to him every time without fail. It was interesting the role that the lithe blond had at last adapted in Stan's life, basically replacing Kyle and Wendy at the same time.

Kyle. Stan's super best friend. It had been a running joke with everyone that the two of them were so close that they must be lovers, especially after Wendy dumped Stan after prom.

Kenny scoffed. If only they knew what was really going on.

It had begun the night of Craig's Fourth of July party, when Stan had gotten himself horribly punch drunk in his despair. Kenny had volunteered to drive him home because Kyle was once again, fighting with his girlfriend Rebecca, while Stan was whining incessantly to go home and away from Wendy, who was visibly having a good time without him.

Stan had been needy, vulnerable, and Kenny couldn't help himself because he was hurting, too.

After what had happened with Cartman and Butters, Kenny had learned a little bit about love. He learned that loving your best friend was usually stupid, and that having sex with your best friend's lover to get back at him usually didn't work too well either. He and Cartman spoke civilly now and got along pretty well when they were with the guys, but more often than not, Butters tagged along and made the situation extremely awkward. The other blond boy probably would never forgive him for the abuse, and Kenny didn't blame him.

They had both left for school a couple of weeks before, and he knew Cartman was attempting to spend as much time with Butters as he could even though the little blond was a couple of hours away at the University of California, Santa Barbara on a dance scholarship. It had amazed everyone that Cartman himself had gotten into Caltech even with his shitty grades, but his best friends had had a hunch that his diabolical scheming was really revealing a brilliant, if not sociopathic, mind all along. Perfect SAT and ACT scores didn't lie.

Since they had graduated, Kenny's life hadn't changed much. He still lived in his parent's grungy house; since he wasn't going to bother going to college anyway, he had gotten a job fixing cars at Clark's Automotive and Tire. In his spare time, he made a little extra money sleeping with whoever wanted to sleep with him. Usually he'd see a lot of Tweek, who had always been unable to stay in a steady relationship, as commitment was "way too much pressure." Lately, however, his frequent visitor had been Stan.

Kenny knew that it wouldn't last long; Stan had joined the Army in typical all-American mountain hick fashion and was just waiting to be dispatched. The sandy-blond wasn't too thrilled about this, because when Stan left, he would be left considerably lonely.

Well, not really. Bebe was still be around, working at Raisins during the day and stripping at night. She had been persuading him to settle down with her, maybe start a family, since soon after prom night, but just because he'd taken her to the stupid thing and been fuck buddies throughout high school didn't mean that Kenny had any intention of marrying her. He'd had lots of fuck buddies in high school, girls and boys. Tweek had stayed in South Park too, having inherited his father's coffee shop. Somehow, though, neither option seemed very appealing.

Kenny flopped down onto his bed and grimaced at the state of his bedsheets. Time to do laundry again.

--

"Eric? Do you know where my laptop charger is?"

"Goddammit, ho, how would I know?"

"Shucks, you were the last one using my computer, boy howdy!"

It was a fairly typical fall day in Santa Barbara—hot, and very unlike South Park. Butters, clad in little pajama shorts and a skimpy tank top, stood in front of the TV, arms akimbo, glaring at his boyfriend.

Cartman was lounging comfortably on the white IKEA couch, miffed that Butters was blocking the screen. The oscillating fan blew his chestnut hair into his face, but it was a cool respite from the blistering September heat.

"Butters, it's probably on your desk and you just didn't notice it."

"Don't you think I'ah would've seen it by now?"

It was also a fairly typical day in the life of Cartman and Butters, post-graduation. Sometimes, Butters felt that his dorm room was just a little too small for both him and Cartman, and not just because of the behemoth's size.

"I'ah…oh, I'ah guess it is here. Sorry, Eric."

Cartman reached for the bowl of Cheesy Poofs on the side table. "I told you so. Jesus, Butters…you worry too much. I tell you this all the time."

The little blond shrugged. "Yeah, well…I'ahm awful busy so it's hard to keep track of everything. I'ahm going to dance practice now, do you need me to bring anythin' back for you on my way home?"

"Nah. Oh wait, more Cheesy Poofs? We're almost out." Cartman examined his orange-stained fingers gingerly.

Butters rolled his eyes. "Hamburgers, Eric, you're going to gain the freshman twenty in no time! Why don't I'ah get you something else—?"

"Shut up, ho! Just go buy me some Cheesy Poofs, goddammit!"

The petite boy sighed and grabbed his keys and dance bag. Yes, the room was unbearably small, and it was only the first weekend Cartman had come to visit from Pasadena; he wondered how the rest of the year was going to pan out at this rate.

"All right, fine, I'll be back in three hours, don't trash my room!"

"Shut up, ho!"

--

Butters shouldered his dance bag, making his way across the quad towards the Visual and Performing Arts building. It wasn't long before his fellow dancer and South Park High graduate, Philip "Pip" Pirrup, caught up with him and matched stride.

"Oh, good afternoon, Butters! Wot a lovely day for dancing, eh?" The long-haired blond smiled cheerily.

Butters returned the smile, a little stiffly. He enjoyed Pip's company, but at that moment, was in no mood for cheer. "All right. Eric's come to visit, and boy howdy is it difficult to live with him."

Pip nodded, very seriously. "No, I definitely know the feeling. When Damien pays me a visit from Hell, he positively trashes my room and terrorizes my roommate."

"Yeah, I'ahm real grateful that I managed to get a single, or else my roommate would never be able to live in my room when Eric's around. And I'ahm afraid he's going to get fat again, the way he's been eating." Butters frowned.

The smaller blond shrugged. "Ah well, old chap, I'm sure we will both adjust. Though I am concerned about poor Evan. I'll have to let Damien know the next time he visits that he cannot set Evan on fire."

Butters couldn't help but laugh. He ruffled Pip's pin-straight locks and sighed. "I'ah guess so." But despite the little British boy's optimism, he couldn't help but feel that college life, especially with Cartman, was not going to be nearly as easy as he thought.

A/N: Hey guys. Review, or it doesn't continue. Simple as that. SO REVIEW! Bwahaha. I don't care if you fav it or alert it, leave me a review.