Notice (for the love of fuck): Characters are now high school sophomores, it be not shotacon.

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Eric Cartman snuck out of his house and into the yard of Kyle Broflovski's house just as easily as he'd done all those nights before. He chuckled to himself. Time for a little late-night revenge.

'What am I gonna do to the little jew-rat while he's sleeping. So many options…"

The backpack flung lazily around his shoulders contained the following; super glue, road kill, a giant dildo, Mr. Hat, acid, panties with the promise of herpes, cheesy poofs, and a video camera.

"Bitch deserves it after ruining my chances at the re-destruction of San Francisco yesterday."

Quietly as the evil boy could pull off, he climbed in through Kyle's window, using his 'spy gear'. Tripping slightly, he found himself on carpet, but quickly regained himself. Looking around the room with the faint light from outside, he scoffed at how clean and perfect it was. Typical.

Ah, and there was Kyle, blankets strewn out as he slept on his side, facing Cartman, in what he thought was his safe and sound bed. Eric's mouth curved to a smirk and his eyes narrowed in the pleasure of thinking about the lesson he was about to teach Kyle.

Oh, but what was this…?

Kyle was breathing heavily and seemed to be murmerring something into his pillow.

Eric hovered over the bed. "Hm, what do we have here, Kahl?" He spoke in a hushed tone.

Kyle's face contorted in what looked to be pain, and Cartman could see slight tears forming in his lashes.

Cartman began nonchalantly setting up his camera for his revenge, just as he finished up and turned on the camera, he heard a cry from Kyle.

"Oh shi-" But as he turned around, he raised an eyebrow at seeing the Jew was still asleep.

"Ah…ah…" Kyle voiced weakly as a trembling hand subconsciously worked it's way down his shirt to the bulge in his pajama bottoms.

Cartman raised another eyebrow behind the camera.

'Oh my, Kahl' he thought with sickening viciousness 'That's one hell of a wet dream you're having there, fag.'

Eric couldn't help but examine the physique of the boy laid out in front of him, looking so mouthwateringly vulnerable. He licked his suddenly dry lips.

Unruly red locks sprawled across the pillow, soft pink lips parted slightly, a shirt riding up enough to nearly reveal a pert nipple, exposing the curve of his body. To make matters worse, faggy almost-ginger Jesus killing jew was now gently rubbing himself through his clothes, releasing little gasps at the contact.

The camera was still recording.

Kyle moaned and fisted the sheets beneath him with one hand. "aah…oh…oh god…Stan…"

Cartman could barely restrain a laugh. He settled for an overbearing menical grin instead.

'So you really ARE a fag…! Ahahahaha!' He nearly fell over with the pleasure of the secret.

"Ah…Stan…please…", Kyle whined in his sleep, although, in a much cuter way than Eric would have liked to admit.

After all, the tent he was pitching at the sight suggested he was quite the hypocrite.

Eyes suddenly widening, Cartman witnessed something he never expected he'd find so much guilty enjoyment in seeing. Only for the pure fact Kyle was being a fag over Stan, of course. At least, that was his mindset anyway.

Kyle curled up slightly, muffling something between a sob and a mewl by biting his pillow, as the area between his legs became wet with a unmentionable sticky substance. Again, he whimpered the name of his best friend to the eager camera.

For a moment, Eric Cartman stared as though in a trance, through darkened eyes.

Another smirked crept into his lips.

Afraid Kyle'd awaken at any moment at this point, he was out the window in a blur.

Laughing hysterically all the way home, he shouted with unadulterated joy ,"I've got some dirt on you now, Broflovski!"

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This has been a smutty introduction to an in-progress fic. Lemon's my favorite flavor of lolli-pop, particularly when someone's licking it provocatively. Excuse me please, I have to go harm myself for that horrid pun.