Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Kyle uses what would normally be his own study time for debate meets relaying his notes and preparations to Id Kyle. Funnily enough, the topic for their next debate meet is how the rise of AI will affect humanity, mainly the job market, the economy, and how policy should be shaped. Still given his proximity to his clone, Kyle’s research has naturally wandered down the path of AI consciousness, autonomy, and what makes humans, well, human. What makes him, him?

This question feels more poignant than ever when Id Kyle carefully teases out arguments with a nuance Kyle didn’t know he was capable of, when he displays an appetite for learning that may not be as voracious as his appetite for Eric Cartman, but is ravenous, nonetheless. It embarrasses Kyle, how much he underestimated him, and unsettles him how similar they really are beyond the physical. Id Kyle could very well have been the product of Kyle’s id, just as much as Cartman’s.

It’s Friday night, and with Kyle’s parents out for date night and Ike at Filmore’s house for a streaming party (not a slumber party, as he irritably had to keep correcting their mom), the two Kyles have all the privacy needed to study for debate… and other more ‘intimate’ events.

“How was that?” Id Kyle asks after their mock debate.

“You did great.” Kyle nods, a smile spreading across his face. “Really.”

In debate, you don’t just need to know the ins and outs of one position, but all of them. After all, you don’t know which side of the debate you’ll end up on, and you may end up arguing for the side you personally disagree with. But knowing the compelling points from the opposite side is your best weapon for arguing against it. And Id Kyle argued just as fluently for universal basic income and government regulation of AI as he did for the ‘sanctity’ of free market capitalism, and ‘pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps’ neoliberalism.

Id Kyle blinks, and Kyle can practically see his confidence blossoming. In a strange way, their hours practicing has just affirmed to him even more how teaching is the right career path for him.

“You mean it?” 

“Yeah!” Kyle chuckles. “We’ve covered every possible talking point.” He gives Id Kyle a decisive nod. “You’ll be fine.”

Id Kyle smiles, before flicking some lint off the edge of Kyle’s bed.

“Wow…” he murmurs.

Kyle’s desk chair squeaks as he leans forward a little.

“What?”

Id Kyle looks up at him with a wry smirk.

“You must really want Eric if you’re happy for me to go up there instead of you.”

Kyle sighs. The thought has occurred to him that he could be letting down his teammates by putting a rookie up there. He’s undoubtedly deceiving them. But to get to have one night to live his wildest dreams, his darkest fantasies is an opportunity he can’t pass up. He’s hoping such a night would set those desires free, and they’ll never trouble him again. Or will it be like ripping open Pandora’s box? Will he become insatiable? What’s scarier than that possibility is the fact that Kyle is so willing to find out… and how much of his logic, and priorities, and willpower crumbles when Cartman is in the picture. Maybe he and Id Kyle aren’t so different, after all.

“You have no idea…” he murmurs, before frowning. “Well, I guess you do.” Id Kyle’s soft chuckle gets them to lock eyes, and makes Kyle see a whole new consideration, one he can’t brush aside. He shakes his head. “But Kyle, you don’t have to do this if you don’t-”

“No, no, I want to,” Id Kyle cuts him off. “I’m just nervous.”

Kyle snickers and goes to put his hands behind his back. It’s an anxious impulse he’s had since he was a child, but from where he’s sitting he can’t really do that, so he rubs the nape of his neck instead.

“Me too.”

Id Kyle grins, delighted.

“Well, it’s about time I imparted some of my wisdom! Sit here.” He pats the spot next to him on the bed.

Kyle peels himself from his chair slowly, a ball of anxious excitement sitting heavy in his stomach. He feels Id Kyle’s eyes on him the entire time as he moves over to the bed.

“Alright, so, this is Eric Cartman Seduction One-oh-One.” Id Kyle turns to him, fizzing with enthusiasm. “First off, positions. He likes pretty much every position, and he likes it when you pin him down too, which is great because you then get to choose whatever you feel comfortable with-”

“Well, what would you suggest?”

Id Kyle tilts his head to the side, nose scrunching up slightly as he thinks.

“Hmm, maybe one where you’re on top? He loves looking at our ass so reverse cowboy might be good. If you didn’t want to get on top then doggie style could work too. I wouldn’t recommend missionary though, your legs can get tired after a while.”

“Got it.” Kyle nods, head whirring.

“He loves dirty talk too.” Id Kyle grins. “He’s very vocal.”

“Dirty talk?” Kyle’s voice cracks, and his whirring head comes to a stop so suddenly it could give him whiplash. Now he just feels dizzy and nauseous. “What the hell should I say?”

Id Kyle shakes his head.

“Oh, he’ll be doing most of the talking but he likes it when we say stuff like…” he bites his lip, and Kyle thinks it’s in concentration but really he’s just getting in the zone. He squeezes his eyes shut, his face creased and feigning ecstasy. “‘Mmm yeah… you’re so fucking big inside me, baby… harder…” his breath quickens. “Faster…” he growls softly and then exclaims suddenly: “I said fuck me harder you fucking fat asshole!’” He then opens his eyes, smiles and shrugs. “Something like that.”

“Okay…”

Kyle doesn’t know if he’s capable of that, but he’s a good orator, right? He gave plenty of speeches that pulled the town out of destructively stupid shit over the years, so he’s sure he can say a few words to turn Cartman on. He just needs to speak from the heart (or the crotch), and besides, he’s no stranger to using colourful language around Cartman, he just needs to dip his toes in bluer water.

“Oh! We need to talk about kissing too!” Id Kyle continues. “He loves biting. If you bite his lip, or his tongue, or his chin he goes wild.”

That shouldn’t be a problem. Kyle has fantasised about shutting Cartman up a few times with a hard kiss and sinking his teeth into his full, pouty lips for good measure. God, he’s actually doing this. Burning with desire and frozen with nerves, Kyle doesn’t know whether to tear his clothes off or cower under the blankets.

Id Kyle raise his eyebrows.

“We could practice, if you like?”

Although kissing his doppleganger isn’t a regular daydream of Kyle’s, it couldn’t hurt to try it. His soft, talented mouth could be the comfort blanket that puts out this fire roaring inside Kyle, lest it engulfs him before the night of the debate meet.

“Yeah…” he croaks, before coughing into his fist and trying to clear his throat. He can’t kiss anyone with a mouth this dry. “Um, yeah, that would be good. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?” he shrugs and tries to chuckle coolly but fails.

“Exactly.” Id Kyle smiles, eyes already lidded as he sits closer. “So I’ll show you how he likes it, and then you can try on me.”

Kyle doesn’t need to say anything to get Id Kyle to lean in, and Kyle’s lips automatically part and his lids automatically droop. Hungry and reassuring, Kyle has never thought he could look so hot as his clone gets closer and closer and, finally, presses their lips together.

Kyle chokes, spluttering on a squeak. Id Kyle’s lips slide across his luxuriantly, like he’s running his fingers through the finest velvet. He’s never felt so desired, and he had no idea Id Kyle even had this much desire to give to anybody who isn’t Cartman. He pries open Kyle’s mouth with his tongue and in doing so, pries open the door he’s kept closed on his own urges for so long. His extra-curriculars and his infatuation with Cartman have kept him from exploring and experimenting but Id Kyle has given them permission to run free.

Still, Kyle doesn’t pounce. He just lets Id Kyle kiss him, dig his fingers in his knee, and bite his lip. Kyle moans when he does that, a bit embarrassed, but more so startled that he would like that. Their mouths are now so well-acquainted that Kyle can feel the corners of Id Kyle’s mouth’s twitch into a smile.

They part, both breathless, but Kyle is the only one quivering with adrenaline.

“Alright.” Id Kyle says, taking a breath. “Wanna give it a try?”

Kyle nods, and he’s pretty sure Id Kyle was going to say something before he swoops in and crashes their lips together. Id Kyle isn’t too shocked for long though, pressing back hard and tilting his head to encourage Kyle to slide his tongue inside. 

Visions of Cartman crack in the darkness of his eyelids like bolts of lightning, electrifying him. He clamours for Id Kyle’s clothes, his skin, raking his fingers down his neck and chest just so he can feed the storm with something tactile, with touch and taste. He bites down on Id Kyle’s tongue and tastes copper but there is no resistance to this, only the tip of Id Kyle’s tongue meeting Kyle’s to share the flavour.

When they part, it’s with a string of pinkish saliva connecting their lips. Kyle flushes deeply, wiping his mouth.

“Sorry…” he murmurs, face scorching.

Id Kyle’s eyes widen and he laughs.

“Dude, don’t apologise for that! That was great. Eager.” He gives Kyle’s shoulder a playful nudge. “Eric’s gonna go wild for that.”

Kyle smiles, not knowing whether that’s something he should say ‘thanks’ for or if that would be totally dorky.

“Let’s talk gag reflexes.”

Kyle eyebrows knit together.

“Okay…”

“Do you have one?”

“Yeah?”

“Me too, but I suggest you play up the gagging and choking instead of actually, like choking.”

Id Kyle has given Kyle the perfect segue way to ask a question he’s been wondering ever since he showed up in their lives, but he still doesn’t know if he’s ready to even ask it.

“Is he…”

“What? Big?”

Kyle nods, and as Id Kyle contemplates the question, Kyle wonders if it’s one he can even answer. What else can he compare it to except his own?

“It’s… manageable. Chubby, juicy, not too small that you can’t feel anything but not too big that you feel like you’re gonna be torn in half - in a bad way.” Id Kyle sighs dreamily. “Practically perfect in every way.”

Kyle chuckles, but doesn’t know if he’ll be able to watch Mary Poppins the same way ever again. God, Id Kyle probably got that line from Cartman.

“Poetry,” he teases.

Id Kyle smirks and rolls his eyes.  

“Anyway, I was thinking maybe we could practice…” he leaps off the bed and heads over to his mini-fridge, pulling out one of the most disgusting things known to mankind. “With this-”

“No, no, god, no!” Kyle shouts, scrambling backwards and almost falling off the bed.

“What?” Id Kyle asks, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t like bananas?”

Kyle grimaces, shaking his head.

Id Kyle studies the banana as if searching for clues as to why Kyle is so repulsed by the fruit, but he soon shrugs.

“Okay, well, I’ll give you a quick tutorial.” He unpeels the banana and Kyle fights his nausea. “You don’t have to, like, suck for dear life, you know? You’re not a vacuum cleaner. It’s more like you’re… massaging his dick with your mouth, Like this.”

Id Kyle places the banana between his lips, and while he hollows out his cheeks, he is right that he’s only applying a minimal amount of suction as he slides his mouth up and down, up and down. He removes his mouth from the banana with a pop.

“But I would recommend starting off with little kisses and sucks at the head.” He demonstrates with little pecks, swirling his tongue around the tip in a way that makes Kyle’s already tight underwear grow tighter. Never did he think that anything with a banana could turn him on.

“And then doing the same with the shaft.” Id Kyle tilts his head and latches his mouth to the banana, suckling softly and running his mouth up and down in small movements like he’s playing a harmonica. He wipes his mouth.

“He kind of likes it when his dick is, like, rubbing against our face. You can play with the head using your tongue too. He likes it when we’re playful… and a little slobbery. Don’t be afraid to take your time either, okay?” Id Kyle says with a soft, encouraging smile. “You should enjoy it just as much as he does.”

Kyle isn’t worried about that. His mouth is watering, and heavy like he’s got Cartman’s dick in his throat already. He may need to take an extended trip to the bathroom to indulge in that fantasy further.

“Giving his butthole a lick doesn’t hurt either.”

Kyle grimaces, nose wrinkling.

“Noted.”

“Any questions?” Id Kyle asks, before taking a bite of the banana.

Kyle scrunches his face up in displeasure at the sight, and it momentarily distracts him from asking another vital question.

“Yeah, um… is there any way I can… how should I…” he squeezes his eyes shut and grips the mattress beneath him, hoping that if he doesn’t look Id Kyle in the eye his embarrassment will wane and then he can ask coherently. “Will it…” he opens his eyes to see Id Kyle still casually eating the banana, and he figures it pays to be direct. What secrets do they have between them anymore? “I’m kinda nervous about taking it up the ass.”

Id Kyle nods, still chewing.

“I figured you might be,” he replies after swallowing. “I’ve got another… educational tool. If that’s cool with you?”

Kyle snickers weakly and rolls his eyes.

“As long as it’s not a banana.”

He’s beyond thankful that the blowjob lesson came after the kissing one.

Id Kyle smiles good-naturedly, before reaching into his nightstand and fishing out a magenta, silicone vibrator. Kyle’s ass clenches just looking at it.

“Have you used one of these before?”

Kyle shakes his head. He’s fingered himself during masturbation when he’s reaching his climax, finding the button inside him that brings his orgasm sooner. 

“Do you have anything smaller?” Kyle asks, mouth dry again.

“This is the smallest one I’ve got. The bigger ones are at Eric’s place.”

Kyle swallows thickly.

Id Kyle’s shoulders soften, melting at Kyle’s vulnerability.

“You don’t have to use it-”

“No, no, I want to - I mean! Um, I’d rather practice now than wait until the…” he rolls his eyes. “Big day…” he murmurs, feeling like smoke is coming off the tips of his ears. “And freak out.”

Id Kyle beams.

“That’s the spirit.” He steps forward, holding out the vibrator. “Well, here you go.”

Kyle looks between the vibrator and Id Kyle’s face, and his hands are welded to the bed. He can’t exactly say that he doesn’t know where it’s been, but maybe that’s the problem.

Id Kyle huffs.

“It’s clean, Kyle!”

Before Kyle can ask when it was cleaned, and with what, Id Kyle sighs and throws his head back. His silence apparently said enough.

“Fine, I’ll clean it again.”

Id Kyle gets some spray out of his nightstand and heads for the bathroom, leaving Kyle alone. He crashes onto his bed in the hopes that it can ground him, settle his whirring head and slow his racing heart.

“There!” Id Kyle says upon his return. “Fresh as a daisy. You’ve got lube, right?”

Kyle sits up, nodding.

“Great, well, I’ll give you some privacy,” Id Kyle adds, handing Kyle the vibrator. “Let me know if you need anything!”

He’s talking to Kyle like he’s a sales assistant helping him with an outfit in a dressing room, or a server who just came to check on how Kyle was doing with his meal, he’s talking like this is normal. He shuts the door behind him and Kyle is alone, once more.

The vibrator looks sizable enough in his hand, what it’s going to feel like in his ass? But maybe it looks so big because he’s scared? Besides, he doesn’t have to put the whole thing up there, does he? Even if he just got the tip in that would be something, although his overachiever brain is telling him that the opposite is true. But perhaps he’s getting ahead of himself. One step at a time.

Lifting his hips, he shrugs off his sweatpants and underwear, and his cock springs up, delighted to be free from his boxers. He then shuffles over to his nightstand and retrieves his lube. He cringes at the noise the bottle makes as he squeezes a dollop into his hand, and as he coats the length of the vibrator with it, he has the idea to coat his cock with it too. His neglected nerve endings prickle under his slick palm and he hisses with pleasure.

With sticky hands he turns the vibrator on, the buzzing travelling in weak rivulets down his arm. His left hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, and he lets his legs fall open as he guides the vibrator between them. The tip of the toy kisses his opening and Kyle jolts like it just administered an electric shock, a strained yelp escaping his lips. He can’t say it felt bad though, or painful, or uncomfortable. It felt strange, sure, but an intriguing strange. A tantalising strange.

He looks between his stiff cock and the toy in his hand and wonders whether they would make good companions. A more familiar stimulation may ease him into this new territory, right? With that, he presses the vibrator flush to his cock and the steady buzz draws his balls tight and makes his cock feel fuller already. He gasps a hot, shallow breath and rubs the toy up and down, up and down his shaft. Giving into the sensation, he tips his head back, and lets a long, loud moan pour out of his mouth.

His eyelids are too heavy to remain open, and when they drift shut he sees Cartman, giving his cock the same kind of attention he likes.

He nuzzles the base of Kyle’s cock, inhaling his musk like it’s the sweetest perfume, parting his lips so he can taste him. He only opens his eyes, honeyed with lust when he starts kissing, licking, and suckling at the shaft, as if daring Kyle to break, to cum all over his hot, soft, pinked cheeks. He drags his tongue down Kyle’s scrotum, laving at his full, heavy balls before he goes lower and his tongue is lapping for entry to Kyle’s ass-

Kyle’s eyes fly wide open and he has to sit up suddenly so he doesn’t choke on his own breath. Ass licking has held very little appeal to him – for obvious reasons – but his hazy mind led him down that path anyway, and again it felt… intriguing strange. Tantalising strange. He takes it as a sign that it’s time to try putting the vibrator inside him again.

Lying back, he lifts his hips and cups his cock and balls so he can at least try to get a better visual of the vibrator going inside him. When he presses it against his hole this time, it clenches around the vibrator, but not to refuse entry - to pull it in. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he pushes the toy inside, mouth dropping open and eyebrows knitting together. A broken moan slips past his lips as the thickest part of the vibrator breaches his hole. He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander.

Cartman is in between his legs, his thighs bracing his soft sides. His flushed body is glistening with sweat, his eyes – when he can keep them open in between spasms of ecstasy – are dark and determined as he thrusts into him.

The more Cartman thrusts, the harder Kyle rams the vibrator.

Overcome, Cartman buries his face in Kyle’s neck, his shoulders shaking. His hot moans are like humid showers on Kyle’s slick skin, and somehow, in the vigorous movement, in the rapture, in the haze, their mouths find each other.

Kyle presses a hand to his mouth to simulate a kiss, smothering his cries and whimpers but they soon crash against his palm like a tidal wave, the pressure dissolving. Moaning, he slides his index and middle fingers in his mouth, sucking on them in time with the vibrator.

They’re fucking on their side now, and Cartman’s hot breath is searing the nape of his neck. His laboured groans drown out the smack of their bodies. He’s nuzzling and mouthing at the hair that he’s made fun of Kyle for all his life. Kyle, meanwhile, is moaning around Cartman’s thick digits, sucking them as eagerly as he would his cock.

His heels slip against the twisted sheets as he writhes about, and with every thump of his pounding heart he hears Id Kyle’s words.

Chubby, Juicy. Not too small. Not too big. Perfect.

Kyle imagines pulling it out of Cartman’s underwear, hard and waiting for him. He imagines how it would pulse in his hand. How it would quiver and dribble pre-cum on his tongue. How it would stretch him, and fill him, and pound him until he was a shaking, satisfied, boneless mess. How it would spurt in his hand, in his mouth, his throat, his ass, and Kyle would look up at him, breathless, and smug, and delighted at his spent face, knowing it was him who made him feel so good. Not some horny simulacrum of him. Him. He cries out, slick fingers now clinging to his bottom lip.

“Cartman…” Kyle moans, sounding like he’s in a trance. “Cart… man…” His breaths quicken, breaking up his name. He groans, anguished. “Unnh fuck, Cartman…”

His arm is starting to ache, and he’s curious of how other positions might feel. Peeling himself away from the rumpled sheets, he gets on all fours and looks between his legs to see his stiff cock pointing up at him and dribbling pre-cum. He then grabs a pillow and places it between him and the mattress, eyes rolling back and making a long, shuddering groan as he starts to hump it. Burying his head in the mattress, he claws into the sheets and moans and cries through gritted teeth as he clenches around the vibrator with every thrust.

Cartman’s body is folded over him as he fucks him from behind, murmuring goading words into Kyle’s ear about how much he loves his cock, how he’s going to break him in half, and how he’s such a dirty boy. Gritty and breathless, Kyle retorts that Cartman can’t live without his ass, and how his dick ain’t shit, but his cheek is squished against the mattress so it comes off as more funny than mean. They dissolve into chuckles, but it doesn’t kill the mood. Cartman presses his face against the side of Kyle’s head, nuzzling him and kissing him before getting back to business.

The tables are quickly turned though, and Kyle is bouncing on Cartman’s cock like a fucking pro, with Cartman pinned to the bed. He’s looking up at him with incredulity, and reverence. His mouth drops open, his eyebrows knit together, he throws his head back and Kyle can practically see the makings of a cry in his throat before he-

“Aaah fuck!” Kyle cries as he cums heavily all over his pillow, ruining it for the night.

He’s panting, his laboured breaths sweet and sharp as he rides his orgasm out, still humping his pillow erratically and probably resembling a flopping fish out of water. The vibrator continues to buzz against his sensitive prostate.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Kyle croaks, deflated and eyes struggling to stay open.

The door creaks, unsure as it opens slowly.

“Just wanted to check if you were… fuck.”

“What?”

Kyle rolls over, shirt twisted, body prickling with sweat and sticky with lube, and cum, and saliva. Id Kyle is unable to take his awestruck gaze off him.

“It’s like looking in a mirror.”

It’s the night of the swap, and they can’t even get past Kyle’s bedroom mirror. Id Kyle knows his debate discussion points inside out, and Kyle has adopted Id Kyle’s vibrator as his own and taken his masturbation sessions to a whole new level that borders on the addictive, but they didn’t prepare for something as trivial as this. Wearing each other’s clothes. 

Kyle, when looking for his reflection, immediately wanders over to his doppleganger’s, dressed in a pair of his moss green corduroys, and a dark grey, brown, and teal argyle sweater (Kyle may not be big into fashion, but he knows you can never go wrong with an argyle sweater); not to his actual reflection that is sporting one of Id Kyle’s tracksuits. But this isn’t just any old tracksuit that Kyle would lounge around in. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s from the women’s range, but maybe they’re passed worrying about gender at this point. The bottoms are high-waisted to ‘accentuate his figure’ (Kyle didn’t even know he had one of those. He just thought his body went straight down), and the matching hooded jacket is cropped and boxy, to again create some sort of appealing silhouette. At least the tracksuit is in his favourite colour, although it’s a green so dark that it’s practically black.

“This is…”

“Trippy.” The word slips out of Kyle’s mouth.

“Yeah.” Id Kyle chuckles, but neither of them can keep their eyes off the mirror… more specifically, off each other. 

Kyle smiles and nudges Id Kyle’s elbow.

“You look good though.”

Id Kyle chuckles good-naturedly. Kyle knows he’ll have to take his word for it. This is not his style, and they have very different motives when getting dressed. 

“Thanks. You look good too.” He turns to Kyle then, scrutinising him with narrowed eyes. It gets Kyle to turn towards him, so he can be better inspected. “Except…”

Id Kyle pushes the left shoulder of Kyle’s hoodie down to reveal more of his bare collarbone.

“Wh-”

“He likes it when he can see we haven’t got a shirt on.”

“Oh…” Kyle nods, fighting the urge to push the hoodie back up. “Okay…”

Id Kyle raises his eyebrows, hands on his hips.

“Plus, it wouldn’t kill you to flaunt your best bits once in a while.”

Kyle wrinkles his nose.

“I didn’t know I had any ‘best bits.’”

“Exactly!” Id Kyle exclaims, before counting off Kyle’s supposed best bits on his fingers. “Well, for starters you’ve got collarbones to die for, male model bone structure, a decent set of abs.”

Kyle blinks, reeling too much to respond. He always thought he was too scrawny, that his paler complexion made his face look gaunt rather than ‘runway-ready.’ He is fit, but his abs are a by-product of core training he undertakes to improve his form with the hurdles in track, not out of vanity. He has had attention from girls in the past, and that was just as flattering as it is to hear Id Kyle listing off his assets now.

“Oh, and uh-”

“Hey!” Kyle jolts when Id Kyle smacks his rump.

“A tight little ass!”

Kyle tries to scowl but he can’t help but smirk at his identical roommate whom he is growing increasingly fond of.

“Thank you…” he fiddles with his jacket, still making sure to keep the left side of his collarbone exposed. “Wendy’s picking you up at six thirty, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Id Kyle nods through a deep breath. 

Kyle winces sympathetically. He remembers his first big debate meet, and even with his off-the-cuff speeches given during much higher stakes moments in his childhood, it’s still nerve-wracking. He often wonders if higher stakes calm him down somewhat, his adrenaline working overtime to shield him from fear.

“How are you feeling?”

“Nervous,” Id Kyle admits. “Scared shitless I’m going to blow this whole thing-”

Kyle squeezing his shoulder seems to pause Id Kyle’s anxious train of thought.

“Relax,” Kyle tries to say in his most soothing tone. “What’s there to be nervous about?” He rolls his eyes in an attempt to acknowledge how lame he’s coming across. “It’s just my reputation and the culmination of the debate team’s hard work on the line.”

“Dude!” Id Kyle yelps, leaping away from Kyle’s touch. 

Kyle lifts his hands up, shoulders rising under his ears sheepishly. 

“Sorry, I thought that would be funny.”

“Well, it wasn’t!” Id Kyle snaps, shaking his head and scratching under the collar of his sweater. Kyle can see a heat rash forming already. “Man, you and Eric have the same shitty sense of humour.”

Kyle blinks, eyebrows furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

Id Kyle sighs, and his body softens. Kyle hopes that’s a sign that he’s decompressing.

“He used to tell jokes like that when I was nervous before. He thought it would make me feel better.”

Kyle’s eyebrows knit together tighter. 

“What did you have to be nervous about?”

“Stupid shit, like…” Id Kyle rolls his eyes. “Coming back here.” His gaze wanders away from Kyle, and still he murmurs: “facing you.”

Kyle blinks. Confusion, and guilt, and a strange delight that just makes him feel more guilty hits him right between the eyes. 

“Me?”

Id Kyle scoffs.

“Yeah! You were kind of intimidating at first.”

“Oh…” Kyle whispers, gaze flitting around the carpet as he replays the early days of Id Kyle’s arrival in their lives. He still does feel justified in how standoffish he was at first, because this was a crazy situation he didn’t ask to be in, but perhaps he could’ve been more tactful. Understanding. Perhaps he could’ve swallowed his envy a little harder so it didn’t sour their interactions. He looks up at Id Kyle, wincing. “Oh, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Id Kyle slips his eyes shut as he shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t help being you.”

Kyle bites back a smirk, figuring Id Kyle needs earnestness right now. 

“I’m nervous too, you know.”

“Why?”

Kyle’s lips part, incredulous, and a scoff escapes. Shouldn’t it be obvious?

“Well, because I'm not you! I’m not… experienced, or seductive, or confident in the same way you are! What if he sees right through me?”

Id Kyle shrugs. 

“So what if he does? You’re you. That’s more than enough for Eric.”

Id Kyle tries to smile, like that would be a bandaid over the clear dejection in his voice. Kyle has no idea how to respond, what to take from his words. Encouragement? Pity? Both feel insensitive, so maybe he’ll take both feelings and keep them inside where they can’t hurt anyone. 

Id Kyle’s phone buzzes in his pants pocket. He pulls it out to read a text. 

“It’s Eric. He wants me to come over.” He looks up at Kyle, and the glow from the screen illuminates his smile. “I guess that’s your cue.”

“Right…” Kyle whispers, and suddenly the air in the room feels thinner. “Oh my god…”

This isn’t helped when Id Kyle pulls him into a tight hug. But Kyle doesn’t care. He takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes and holds his doppleganger closer than he thought he would ever hold him.

“You’re gonna rock his world,” Id Kyle says, with a weak smile in his voice.

Kyle has never noticed before how ridiculously short the walk to Cartman’s house is. It’s nowhere near long enough. But, Kyle supposes, the walk could be the width of the continental United States and it still wouldn’t feel long enough when he’s heading into something so completely unknown, and tantalising, and dangerous. 

The questioning begins when he lifts his fist to knock the door. Will his knock give him away? How would Id Kyle knock on his door? Would he knock at all? Why didn’t they go over this sooner?! Kyle recalls what kind of moods he’s usually in when he knocks Cartman’s door: furious at worst, and impatient at best that Cartman is running late to something yet again. So he thinks: casual. Light, airy, but still firm enough to display eagerness. 

He expects Miss Cartman to answer the door anyway, as Cartman has always had an aversion to that particular task. But to his surprise, it’s Cartman who answers, and Kyle jumps into the first seductive pose that comes to his mind - hand resting on the door jamb, lifted just so that one side of his jacket lifts up to reveal his midriff pulled taut.

“You wanted me?” he asks.

Nice.

It’s kind of scary how effortlessly he did that, but he hopes he can so easily wing it for the rest of the night too.

It’s only now that his nerves have momentarily ebbed that he notices the expression on Cartman’s face isn’t wicked, or lustful but… sombre.

Oh shit. Did I fuck this up already?

 “Uh, yeah, that new DC movie is starting in like, half an hour.” Cartman steps forward, sending Kyle to stumble backward slightly. Luckily, he finds his footing on the stoop. “You wanna come with?”

“Huh?”

Cartman huffs, rolling his eyes. 

“Do you want to see the movie with me?”

Kyle frowns, puzzled, but figures he should roll with it.

“Uh, sure.”

“You could sound a bit more excited, dude,” Cartman remarks as he shuts his front door behind him. He brushes past Kyle. “After you begged me for a date.”

Kyle blinks, watching him walk to his car, dumbfounded. But it’s then he recalls how upset Id Kyle was after he came back from Cartman’s, and what instigated this swap in the first place.

“Oh… oh, yeah!” He jogs to catch up to Cartman. “Thanks, um, s-s-sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well, it clearly means a lot to you, and…” Cartman stops, lips pressed tight together as he looks at the driveway for a minute before he meets Kyle’s curious gaze. “You mean a lot to me. So the least I can do is take you out every once in a while, huh?” 

With one of the softest smiles Kyle has ever seen on Cartman’s face, he opens the passenger door for him. It’s too infectious for Kyle not to smile back.

“I’d like that.”

Cartman’s smile grows wider with delight, but as Kyle takes his seat and Cartman makes his way over to the driver's side, flashing him a pleased grin as he does, bitterness starts to encroach on the sweetness of it all. This is what Id Kyle wanted, and Kyle is taking that away from him. But Cartman said he was going to do this more often, right? So Id Kyle will get his moment soon.

“Okay let’s go,” Cartman says as he starts his car. “See how long you can sit through a movie without wanting to gobble my balls in the bathroom.”

Kyle chokes on thin air. He doesn’t know how Cartman can say that so casually while reversing out of his driveway. Still, Kyle has to say something back. Something flirty. He hears Id Kyle’s voice in his ear saying ‘you can do it!’

He goes with: “Speak for yourself.” 

It’s tame sure, but it still earns him an approving, wicked grin from Cartman… and when Cartman rakes his hazy, contemplative gaze over him he leaves hot goosebumps in his wake. He’s never been looked at like that before, someone’s never looked at him like they wanted to devour him.

“I’d rather bury my face in those sweet, pert cheeks.”

Kyle stiffens, words completely escaping him. It’s like all the blood from his brain has flowed to his dick now twitching to life in his pants.

“Your ass is looking exceptionally hot tonight,” Cartman adds. 

Kyle opens his mouth, tries to form words for a few seconds, before it hits him that he has no reason to be nervous. Cartman wants him, and he has as much power in this scenario as he does. So damn it, he’s going to wield it. 

He narrows his eyes at him, smirking mischievously. 

“Don’t try to turn this car around. We’re seeing that movie.”

He owes it to Id Kyle, after all. 

They’re half an hour into the movie and Cartman still hasn’t made a move. The cheesy dialogue dissolves in his ears as Kyle agonises over Cartman’s behaviour and what it could mean. Is this normal? Is this one of those rare cases of Cartman showing restraint? But why? Or - horror of horrors - is he onto them? But he would’ve said something earlier, right? He wouldn’t be able to help himself. Or is this a long game? As he slurps at his soda and munches on popcorn, is he calculating some large scale humiliation for Kyle when he’s least expecting it? 

Or perhaps Kyle needs to make the move. For all he knows, Cartman could be wondering why Kyle isn’t trying anything and that just makes him look more suspicious. Kyle’s gaze slips away from the poorly-lit action on screen and to the darkness of Cartman’s lap. He can only make out the silhouette of the popcorn bucket, tilted slightly towards him. This may be the only time that reaching into the dark unknown is a comforting thought. It helps Kyle detach himself from the scary yet alluring thought that he’s about to touch Cartman somewhere sensitive, intimate, forbidden. At least in Kyle’s mind.

Slowly, he reaches across. He feels Cartman’s body heat, his fingertips graze the material of his pants, he feels the telltale jolt when his fingers ghost the area, but before he can clutch, and squeeze, and grope his inner thigh, Cartman’s hand finds his and he weaves their fingers together. Their bare palms meet, hot and prickling, and Kyle’s heartrate accelerates. 

Cartman’s chair squeaks as he leans in closer to Kyle.

“I knew you were full of shit,” he says with a grin in his voice.

Kyle’s chest tightens as his heartrate now spikes. Jesus Christ, does he know?

“Wh-what?”

“You can’t keep your hands off me.”

Kyle could crumple with relief but instead he sighs as quietly as he can.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tilts his chin up defiantly. “I was just reaching for some popcorn.”

In the corner of his eye, the big screen catches the glint of Cartman’s teeth.

“Sorry, I didn’t bring any crotch popcorn.”

Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Just give it to me!” he snaps.

“Is that a preview for later tonight?”

Cartman’s smile doesn’t fade as he hands Kyle the bucket, although Kyle is too nervous to eat anything right now.

“Shut up…” Kyle murmurs, smirking as he scoops up a handful of popcorn that feels like cotton wool in his mouth.

It’s just as hard to swallow when he realises he and Cartman are still holding hands. 

They’re still holding hands when they leave the theatre an hour and a half later. They did separate briefly when they had to go to the bathroom, navigate some snacks and drinks, or when their hands got a bit too sweaty, but they soon found each other again. A warm, familiar press that Kyle is worried he won’t be able to forget about when this is all over, that he will be reminded of whenever he looks at Cartman’s hands.

“Are you hungry?” Cartman asks, pulling Kyle out of his melancholy thoughts of the future and into the urgent here and now. 

That’s got to be a euphemism, right? This is your chance!

“Uh-huh.” He nods, hypnotised. 

Cartman sighs, smiling.

“Good, because I reserved a table at Buca de Faggicini.”

More stunned than disappointed, it’s easy for Kyle to fake a smile. 

Within forty minutes they’re seated at South Park’s primo Italian restaurant, and have just ordered their meals. A pepperoni pizza for Cartman, and a salad for Kyle. His butterfly-infested stomach may reject anything heavier.   

“How you holding up?” 

Kyle jolts, looking up from his drink.

Cartman bites down on a breadstick while he waits patiently for his answer.

“What do you mean?”

“This is the longest we’ve ever been…” Cartman rolls his eyes as he tries to find the right phrasing. “Just the two of us… without having sex.” He smirks shyly.

God, he wishes that Cartman would stop asking him foreboding questions like that which feed his paranoia. 

“Oh, fine.” Kyle nods, stabbing at the melting ice in his glass with his straw. “Good.” He takes a long sip.

Cartman’s shy smirk grows more mischievous, more reminiscent of the goading grins that Kyle is familiar with.

“That Dr Pepper staving off the shakes, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Kyle’s voice is muffled around the straw. He smacks his lips in satisfaction when he gulps down the fizzy beverage. “I really am having a good time…” the name ‘Cartman’ stalls on his tongue. “Eric. Thank you.”

His breath grows shallow as he waits for Cartman to call him out on that, but he just shrugs, perhaps too distracted by the little stroke to his ego to notice.

“No problem. It’s what boyfriends do, right?”

Kyle nods eagerly. Yes, he may be laying it on thick, but Id Kyle would, right? And Kyle wants to lay groundwork for Id Kyle receiving this kind of treatment in the future.

“Right, and I really appreciate it.” He plays with his straw as he considers the question being kept behind his pursed lips. He looks up at Cartman. “Can I just ask for one more thing though?”

Cartman raises his eyebrows.

“A handjob?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man, our food could come any minute.”

“No, not that! Can you just tell me why this was so hard for you? The whole date thing?” Kyle shifts closer to him in their little red booth, a Roman-inspired fresco above them.

“Well, why do you think?” Cartman huffs, slouching in his seat and folding his arms. “Gas ain’t cheap, neither are movie tickets, and food ain’t free. You don’t have any funds so it all falls to me, even though, like, I’m not made of money-”

“Eric…” Kyle softly implores him, smiling because he knows this is all an act from Cartman.

Cartman frowns, but his face soon falls, his guard lowering.

“Fine.” He sits up and rests his elbows on the table, lowering his head and leaning in slightly closer to Kyle like he’s about to share some top secret shit with him. “I guess it’s hard because…” he swallows thickly. “Of all the things I’ve pictured doing with Kyle, of all the things we’ve done, this feels more unrealistic than even the dirtiest, hottest stuff, and I don’t like being reminded of that fact.” He smiles wryly then. “But - as hard as it is to admit -  it’s not all about me.” His wry smile scrunches into one of gratitude, and on someone like Cartman it looks a little awkward, sure, but that just makes it more adorable. “You’ve been a fucking real one, dude, putting up with my shit, so you deserve this. I guess it’s my way of saying ‘thank you.’”

“That’s really sweet.” Kyle whispers. It feels like his voice has been buried under these revelations. He thought Cartman only wanted one thing out of Id Kyle, and perhaps Cartman wishes it were that simple because what he actually wants is too painful to name. “But I don’t need thanks, you know…”

Cartman nods, eyes slipping shut.

“I know.”

Kyle shifts closer, his hand finding Cartman’s round knee under the table. The candles, the murmuring, oblivious diners, and the intimate booth are emboldening him. His voice drops to a slightly huskier octave. 

“All I need is your big, hard, juicy-”

“Insalata di antipasto con stuzzichini e-”

“Yeah, here!” Kyle yelps, voice going up a few flustered notches when he snatches the plate from their server. “Thanks,” he murmurs, keeping his head low to disguise his reddened face.

Cartman’s face is red for another reason entirely, trying to hold back his vicious laughter.

“E la pizza al salame piccante…” The server - unfazed - places Cartman’s pizza in front of him. He claps his hands and beams. “Buon appetito.”

Cartman’s eyes trail after him, smirking.

“You were saying?” he grins, unpeeling a cheesy slice from his plate.

Kyle gives him a weak scowl before taking a bite of his salad.

Kyle is glad that Cartman decides to forgo dessert. Anticipation is eroding his appetite, not just anticipation for the thrilling possibilities that belong on the other side of Cartman’s bedroom door but the notion that, the longer they’re away from his bed, the more likely this is to blow up in Kyle’s face without him even securing a kiss. This anxiety isn’t helped by Cartman constantly checking his phone, and it takes every cell in Kyle’s body not to demand to know what the fuck Cartman is looking at, or snatch the phone off him so he can see for himself. Has he indeed got some counter-plan organised? A way to humiliate Kyle and his clone for deceiving him? Has Id Kyle ratted them out? But he wouldn’t do that, would he?

They’ve made it to Cartman’s front door, and no double-cross has scuppered Kyle’s plans yet. They step into the living room and Kyle sees a plush blanket draped over the couch, and a glass of white wine waiting on the coffee table. The TV is on, but the only sound is coming from the kitchen, the beep of a microwave being set.

Miss Cartman pokes her head out of the kitchen.

“Oh, hello, sweetie!” 

“Hey, mom…” Cartman blurts, grabbing Kyle’s wrist and leading him up the stairs already.

“Hello, Kyle!” she calls after them, her voice rising above the unmistakable noise of popping kernels. 

“Uh, hi, Miss Cartman…” Kyle replies, and although he was just about to ask Cartman to perhaps slow down before he faceplants the stairs, he wishes he could escape to his bedroom quicker.

To Id Kyle, having Miss Cartman be a witness to her son dragging him to his bedroom is nothing, but it’s as disconcerting to Kyle as it would be if she had walked in on him getting changed. The fact she called him ‘Kyle’ too rings discomfitingly in his ears. But only Kyle and the guys call his clone ‘Id Kyle,’ so why would she call him anything else? 

Her final words to them as they reach the top of the stairs are: “Have a good night!” 

“Thanks, mom! You’re the best!”

Kyle frowns at Cartman’s back, rolling his eyes when he realises that his questions are not going to be answered anytime soon. He should just focus on the here and now, and the here and now is being mere steps away from Cartman’s bedroom, the stage where all his wildest fantasies are about to play out.

As he opens the door, Cartman gives him a smile over his shoulder that is sweet, and mischievous, and… far too knowing. 

But Kyle is dumbfounded when he steps into the room that has been transformed from a boyish, dishevelled bedroom into a honeymoon suite. Electric candles flicker on practically every surface they can perch on, and red rose petals are scattered on the bed in the shape of a love heart pierced by Cupid’s bow. 

“Wh…” Kyle turns to look at Cartman. His chest is puffed out proudly, but his nose is scrunched up “What is all this?”

That’s why he kept checking his phone, to make sure his mom had everything ready for us.

Losing his virginity to Eric Cartman is one thing, but the candles, and the rose petals, and the effort, is another. His heart stings though, not because of Cupid and his bow and arrow, but because this was all meant for Id Kyle, and he’s missing out on it. 

Cartman shrugs, the wrinkle in his nose fading. Kyle’s delight it seems, is enough to curtail any embarrassment he might feel.

“I just thought that I might as well go all in on the romance thing.” He grins, closing the gap between him and Kyle. “And speaking of going all in…”

Kyle yelps when Cartman reaches around to cup his ass, and he barely has time to get used to that before Cartman is smothering the yelp with a hard, deep kiss. 

Kyle hangs off Cartman’s lips for a few terrifying seconds, not moving at all, but he soon squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head to give as good as he’s getting, and to indulge in Cartman’s soft, warm lips. Everything about him is soft, plush, delectable. His soft, burning cheeks in Kyle’s hands, his hair threaded through Kyle’s fingers, his broad chest marked by Kyle’s nails. He wishes Cartman were shirtless already so he can trace the ephemeral pink streaks with his tongue. His usual appetite may have quietened for the night, but a new appetite is roaring to life. 

Cartman, however, seems distant. His bottom lip is still caught between Kyle’s teeth as he pulls back. Kyle tries to focus on its tiny wobble when he lets it go, rather than the lost, contemplative look on Cartman’s face.

“Uhh…” it’s all that can come out of Kyle’s mouth for a few seconds. He winces, preparing for the worst possible answer when he asks: “Everything alright?”

Cartman blinks, before squeezing his eyes shut and nodding.

“Y-y-yeah…” He tugs Kyle closer, eyes roaming his face. “Yeah, everything is…” a smile spreads across his lips. “Perfect.” 

He exhales that last word, and before Kyle can question further, Cartman’s spare hand slides up his neck, cradles his jaw and crashes their lips together even harder. They kiss like they’re pressing a flower between the pages of a book, like this kiss, this night is something to preserve. The memory will wilt and fade over time, sure, but they can try their best to imprint it on their lips, their minds, their souls. 

When they part for the second time they stay close, noses brushing together. Kyle’s vision is honeyed by the glow of the candles and Cartman’s dark, amber eyes so close to him. 

“You have no idea how…” he stops himself, and Kyle stops breathing as he waits for him to continue. Cartman slips his eyes shut as he swallows hard. He opens them again. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

Kyle blinks, and his vision becomes blurrier, his nose stinging. He thought that people only cried like this in romantic movies, or on their wedding night when they’ve just declared their love to the world and can see their shared future before them. It may just be the weight of keeping in check all the emotions he’s felt over the last couple of hours (fuck, the last couple of days), finally getting to him. Or it may just be the shock of getting to hear the words he never thought he’d hear, and has wanted to hear for longer than he’d care to admit. Still, he’s come this far. He can keep it contained for just a while longer.

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

Cartman cups his face with both hands and kisses him again, and when his eyes slip shut helpless tears run silently down Kyle’s face. Fortunately, Cartman doesn’t comment on that, although he does brush them away with his thumbs. 

His hands slide down Kyle’s shoulders, and then his chest, reaching for the zipper of his jacket and pulling it down agonisingly slow. He unpeels it from Kyle’s shoulders, foreheads pressed together as he stares at Kyle’s bare chest, slack-jawed. Kyle bites his lip to control his grin, something that Cartman happily indulges in when he meets Kyle’s eyes.

“I think I owe you a handjob.”

Kyle jolts when Cartman’s fingertips brush against his chest. They graze his sternum, his abs, his navel without breaking contact. Kyle has never known such sustained touch before, has never felt so savoured. 

Cartman pauses just below his navel, where the muscles are trembling. He takes a sharp, hot breath, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Fuck, you’re shaking…” he looks up at Kyle, fascinated. “You must really want this, huh?”

“Yes…” Kyle whispers. Why not be honest? The swell in his pants is undeniable. He nods. “Yes, I need you to touch me, please…”

Cartman finds Kyle’s mouth as he delves into his sweatpants, and Kyle chokes, dizzy with bliss, when Cartman wraps his hand around his cock. If masturbating is like plucking a string and a sweet, satisfactory note ringing out, then having Cartman’s hands on him is like the swell of an orchestra. A moan pours out of Kyle’s mouth before he can stop it, like he’s trying to harmonise with the symphony rising inside him.

“Aaahh…” He nuzzles the side of Cartman’s head as he strokes him slowly from base to tip. “Aaah god…”

With his free hand, Cartman takes Kyle’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and reconnects their mouths. He picks up the tempo of his strokes, and Kyle stiffens, bucks into Cartman’s hand and moans, muffled by his kiss, brow furrowing. Needy little whimpers provide a metronome to Cartman’s caresses, catching on Kyle’s every breath. 

Their mouths separate and Cartman studies him with dark, curious eyes. He nudges his thumb ever so slightly so it’s pressed to Kyle’s flushed bottom lip. Kyle doesn’t know if Cartman is inviting him to do something, or if he just wants to press his lip against his teeth until they split the skin, experiment and add a sliver of pain to the pleasure. Kyle’s mouth waters when he imagines the copper filling his mouth, mixing with his spit and staining his teeth a carnal crimson shade, but the muscles in his mouth twitch when he gets another idea. He tilts his head so he can take the tip of Cartman’s thumb into his mouth, nipping it and sucking sweetly. A hitch of breath makes Kyle’s eyes drift open to see Cartman’s playful scowl, annoyed and delighted that a potential plan was thwarted. 

Now, it’s Kyle’s nips and suckles that are keeping time with Cartman’s hand, slick with pre-cum, hotter than ever as Kyle throbs in his grip. He soon retracts Kyle’s thumb from his mouth, letting Kyle bite at it one more time before he runs it across the thickest part of Kyle’s lip. He flicks it as he pulls away, sliding his hand up Kyle’s neck, behind his ear, so his slick thumb is now pressed against the sensitive area where Kyle’s lobe meets his jaw. He then latches on to the other side of Kyle’s neck like a vampire, mouth balmy and teeth grazing his skin as he moves down to Kyle’s freckled shoulder, drawing constellations with his tongue in between open-mouthed kisses.

“Unnh fuck…” Kyle groans, tipping his head back. His impending orgasm is coiling tighter and tighter in his core. “Unnh fuck, Cart-”

He chokes, eyes flying wide open. This is the hurdle he’s going to fall on? His already burning face is scorching now, but Cartman doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop laving at his skin.

“It’s okay…” he murmurs. Kyle can feel his lips part into a grin. “Say it…”

Kyle takes a couple of breaths, focusing his gaze on the ceiling as he tries to calm down, convince himself it’s alright.

“Cartman…” he murmurs, like it’s a dangerous, powerful spell. Then, louder: “Cartman…”

He moans approvingly and swiftly captures Kyle’s mouth again. The kiss is broken by Kyle’s strangled cry when Cartman wraps his hand around the base of his cock and squeezes. Through the stars sparkling in his vision he can make out Cartman’s wicked grin.

“You’re getting close, huh, baby?”

Kyle nods, whining. 

“It’s fine…” Cartman reassures him breathlessly. He starts pumping faster than ever. The slap of his fist is growing louder and louder, and his voice grows gruffer. “We’ve got all night.” He smiles. “I want to make you feel good over.” Kiss. “And over. Kiss. “And over-”

“Eric, poopsie!” Comes Miss Cartman’s voice up the stairs.

Cartman growls, tearing away from Kyle who is dizzied from those frantic kisses.

“God damn it, what?!” he shouts over his shoulder.

He doesn’t wait for his mom’s reply before he starts kissing Kyle again, attacking his mouth and vigorously pumping at his cock. Kyle can hardly catch his breath, on the verge of hyperventilating, but the last thing he wants to do is tell him to stop.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you sweetie, but I can’t get Dutton Ranch up!”

Cartman sighs again, nose pressed into Kyle’s cheek. He slows down his strokes, distracted, as he shouts over his shoulder: “Are you on Paramount Plus?”

“I… I think so! Wait…”

Cartman huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t touch anything! I’ll be right there!” He turns back to Kyle, surprisingly flushed and sweaty Cartman. He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I’ll be right back once I’ve helped her get her Rip Wheeler fix.”

“Okay…” Kyle nods, although he has no idea what that means. “Aaah!” he yelps when Cartman gives the base of his cock another squeeze.

He winks at Kyle before retrieving his hand from his pants, and Kyle watches dumbly as he leaves the room, adjusting his own pants as he goes. 

Once the door clicks shut, Kyle plops down on the bed; heart racing, hands shaking, mind reeling. Although being edged isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, he’s trying to take this opportunity to breathe. Slack-jawed he stares around the room again now it’s just him in it, and laughs to himself, soft and giddy.

He doesn’t get to revel in this moment for long however, as the bedroom window soon opens. The evening breeze meets his bare, sweaty back and sends him jumping to his feet.

“What the fuck?”

His eyes widen and the evening breeze now freezes him to the spot when he sees a flustered Id Kyle climbing through the window. 

His downtrodden expression and puffy eyes thaws Kyle out of his stupor. He rushes to the window to help him inside.

“Dude, are you okay?”

Id Kyle shakes his head and wrenches himself out of Kyle’s grip.

“I fucked it up, Kyle,” he murmurs, staggering away from him.

Kyle blinks, realising that, like an animal that’s broken out of its enclosure, he has to keep Id Kyle contained for all their sakes. He hurries over to him, sidestepping Id Kyle so now he’s in front of him.

“What?”

Id Kyle huffs, throwing his hands up in the air and rolling his eyes.

“It was going so well, at first! I nailed my opening argument.” His mouth tightens into a scowl and his nostrils flare. He shakes his head and spits: “Then this fucking Jefferson County prick just tore me apart-”

“Jonah Andrews?” Kyle interjects, wincing.

Damn it. Jonah is good, and he knows it. Fucking prick. 

“Yeah, that asshole! He got me all confused, and I was a blabbering fucking wreck up there! It was so embarrassing, and Tolkien had to save my ass and I spent the rest of the meet in the bathroom hyperventilating-”

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry…” Kyle whispers, shoulders drooping under the weight of his guilt. 

Here he’s been having a good time with Cartman, getting the kind of treatment Id Kyle has wanted, while he was suffering through stage fright that culminated in a panic attack in a high school restroom. He hasn’t even noticed the romance on display yet, but it will be another kick in the nuts when he does. 

“You should be sorry!” Id Kyle cries. “If you hadn’t made that stupid joke then maybe I…” he shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head. “Whatever, I just need to see Eric.”

“Wait, what?” Kyle spins around when Id Kyle brushes past him. “You’re going to ruin the whole plan!”

“Well, I’ve already started to ruin it, right?” Id Kyle chuckles, manic and on the verge of fresh tears. “Might as…” he blinks, surveying the room. Kyle doesn’t know if it’s the candle or the fucking heart made of roses that caught his eye. “Wait, what the hell is all this?”

Kyle sighs, rubbing the nape of his neck like that can ease the guilt on his shoulders.

“Yeah, uh, Cartman’s mom did this while we were out-”

“Out?! You went out?!”

Kyle holds up his hands.

“J-j-just to a movie!”

The way Id Kyle’s face cracks, it splinters Kyle’s heart a little too. 

“Oh my god…” he whimpers, broken, clutching his hair with both hands.

“Dude, it’s okay!” Kyle steps forward, trying to smile. “He said he wants to take you out more often! There’ll be other times-”

“That’s not the point!” Id Kyle cries. “This was the first time! It was supposed to be mine!” He beats his hand against his chest. “And you stole it from me!”

Kyle huffs, rubbing his hand over his face. He feels awful for Id Kyle, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’ll tolerate those kinds of accusations.

“Come on, Kyle, I didn’t steal it from you.”

“God, shut up!” Id Kyle shouts, and it makes Kyle jump. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You don’t have to rub it in my fucking face, Kyle, I know you are! I’m reminded every fucking day that I’m second best, that I’ll never be you! Shit, I’m the closest thing to you, and it’s still not enough!” Id Kyle whimpers again, dragging his hands through his hair. “It’s not enough for me, it’s not enough for Eric…”

All the words that Kyle wants to say that could make this better solidify, as heavy as a breeze block in his chest, useless and inadequate. His face creases.

“Kyle, please-”

“And do you know what fucking gets me?” Id Kyle chuckles, cold and cruel, baring his teeth. “That in Eric’s eyes you’re perfect, and yet you can’t fucking see that! Do you even notice the way he looks at you?”

Not until now. Not until tonight. It’s all been refracted through you and I was too fucking stupid and stubborn to notice it.

This is unbearable. Cartman could come back any minute, this could all implode. 

“Kyle, please just go home, a-a-and we’ll talk about this later, okay?”

“Fuck you!” Id Kyle cries, fists clenched at his sides. He shakes his head and turns away. “I need to see Eric…”

“No!” Kyle yells and before he knows it he’s pounced on Id Kyle, ensnaring him by the waist and bodyslamming him into the carpet. 

The worst part about fighting with a carbon copy of yourself? Neither of you have the advantage. Kyle is swift and pretty strong but so is Id Kyle, and although Kyle can pin him down, Id Kyle can still wrestle his way out of Kyle’s grip. He tries to scratch at his chest and face, but Kyle ducks away just in time. 

“Let go of me!” Id Kyle shouts through gritted teeth as Kyle tries to flip him onto his stomach and pin him there to immobilise him and… then what?

Kyle has no fucking idea. But he knows he can’t slink away and admit defeat now, he can’t willingly watch this blow up in his face. He’s had one drop of Cartman’s touch, his affection, his desire, his lips, his hands, and that’s nowhere near enough to sustain him. If that’s all he gets it will just drive him madder with envy, with longing, with resentment. 

No, he needs to see this plan through. He needs all of Cartman, and maybe when they’re lying together, drunk on each other, bodies spent, Kyle can confess to his plan. He can confess how he feels, and apologise that it took him so long to realise it, that it took him until a version of himself showed up that represented both of their deepest desires to see what was right in front of him all along.

Right now, that version of him has rolled over and is trying to wriggle out from under Kyle, but Kyle’s hands fly to his wrists and squeeze them tight enough to cut off circulation, pinning them to the carpet. 

“God damn it, no!” he shouts in Id Kyle’s face. His voice cracks. “You’re not gonna fuck this up for me!”

“What the fuck?”

A new voice enters the fray. Kyle and his clone look up to see Cartman standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and mouth agape.