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"I'll suck your dick for twenty bucks."
If there's one thing that Kyle's friends do pretty consistently, it's say pretty weird shit. Slurs, offensive comments, idiotic theories about birds being government drones, he's heard all of it. That doesn't stop him from choking on his own inhale at such a brazen request, though.
"What?!" He shoots up in his seat. Hot blood rushes straight to his head, both the one on his shoulders and the other between his thighs. "What does that even— why would you— what the hell do you need a twenty for?"
The proprietor of the vulgar request stirs at the edge of his bed. He's splayed across the mattress like he owns it, worn tank top clinging to his scraggy torso, choppy hair fallen over his eyes.
It wasn't uncommon for Kyle to find Kenny in his house. Though this time they'd both agreed on hanging out afterschool, more often than not, Kenny would arrive completely unwelcome and unprompted. Kenny's grown comfortable in Kyle's space, given the time they'd spent together with Stan living all the way on a weed farm and Cartman living in a hotdog restaurant. Maybe he's grown too comfortable.
He sits up, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Uhh, new pants."
"I'll give you mine."
"They don't fit me, you're too tall."
"So, just—" Kyle grunts, rolling his eyes. He presses his fingers into his temples, attempting to mitigate both the growing heat and oncoming headache. "I'm not even gonna entertain this."
A frown pulls at Kenny's lips. "Why not?"
"Why not?!" Kyle echoes, his face continuing to burn. Kenny sighs.
"Ok fine, ten bucks."
"No!"
"Five."
"No, jesus!" Kyle refuses. A pressure settles in his chest, crushing and making it hard for the air to adequately sate his lungs.
Kenny sighs for a second time, leaning back on his palms, brows tipping dejectedly. "Cartman's right, you are a cheapskate."
"Why would I let you suck me off for twenty bucks?!"
"It's called helping those in need." Kenny shrugged. "I thought you liked charity work."
The red in Kyle's face deepens and he knows it. It may as well catch on fire. "That's not what charity work is, you idiot."
Kenny glances up, locking their eyes. That, to Kyle's absolute horror, elicits a slow, tangible pulse from his dick. Celibacy might be the death of him. He doesn't fuck anybody for a few months and now he's getting riled up over eye contact? With one of his friends? With one of his guy friends? Not that Kyle has a problem with being gay or anything. He's never really cared about or considered his sexuality, not since that one incident with Stan back in freshman year. They'd been at his house before it was sold, curled up in bed, not entirely sober. It started with a dumb conversation, one that Kyle can't entirely remember. Then their hands found each other's, feeling aimlessly in the darkness, growing gradually bolder as night progressed. Nothing happened, not sex wise. They just made out a bit. Kyle's still unsure if he'd wanted anything to happen, but he's glad it didn't. Kissing is easier to brush over than sex. Since then, they've both never brought it up, though the thought of actually being gay lingers in the back of his mind. He likes chicks, he's sure he does, so he probably isn't gay. There has been times that his attraction to men was plausible, though. Perhaps he likes both.
Kyle's not exactly one for labels, but he wouldn't mind being bisexual. What he does mind, however, is his friend so casually offering up head like free handouts. "Come on man, I've got two dollars to my name right now. Payday isn't for another week," Kenny groans. "Think of it as a favor."
"A favor?"
"Or like, a really good deal."
"This isn't a good deal at all."
Kenny scoffs. "Pff Five dollars for a bj? Please, that's the greatest steal since prime Black Fridays."
"Jesus christ," Kyle breathes out, dropping his head into his palms. How can one be so shameless? His dick makes it's presence known again, twitching against the denim of his jeans. It's a joke. A cruel joke played on him by the universe, or god, or whoever the hell was in charge of his freakishly high libido. Kenny's voice rings in his ear again.
"So…?"
A grunt leaves Kyle's mouth, a quiet, inconspicuous sound that Kenny takes as ample confirmation. Kyle lifts his head to watch him in his slow, crawling approach, peeling the blanket away from his legs as to allow him proper access. Kenny's hands find his knees and part them. Air catches in Kyle's throat, pants now tented visibly under his scrutiny.
"That's quick." Kenny cups the clothed erection. Maybe he didn't mean to say it in a cocky manner, but Kyle takes it as such regardless. He knits his brows, keeping his gaze downcast as the other boy's palm works him.
"This is the worst idea in the world," Kyle grumbles.
Kenny locates his fly, pinching the zipper between his thumb and index and dragging it open. "No homo, dude." He shrugs.
Kyle's face scrunches. "What do you mean 'no homo'?" He clenches his teeth as his cock is freed, hot and flushed against Kenny's thin fingers. "You giving me head isn't homo enough?"
"Not if I'm being payed," He insists. Kyle is painfully reminded of the morality of this situation. It's wrong to have his broke friend blow him for money, regardless of who suggested what. It goes against who he is. It goes against everything he stands for. Kenny starts to pump his hand, pace laggard, touch featherlight like he's trying to taunt him. Maybe morals are a secondary priority.
Kenny inspects the length as it throbs in his grip. "Nice hog, man."
Kyle's arousal falters slightly, his face dropping. "Ew. Don't call it that,"
"What, hog?" Kenny grins. He pauses his hand, twisting it about the base. "Would you prefer wiener? Dong? Fireman?"
Kyle bristles. "What are you, a middle schooler? No intelligent person refers to their junk as a fucking wiener."
Kenny snickers, finally starting to lower himself into eye-level with his tip. "My sincerest apologies. Your phallus is most exquisite, sir," He jeers.
Hearing the word "sir" whilst Kenny's looking up from under his dick does more for Kyle than he's willing to admit. He clutches the sheets beneath him, a pathetic attempt at preventing his hips from squirming. "Dude."
"I'm done, I'm done," Kenny concedes. He grips him firmly by the shaft, tentatively gliding his tongue over the exposed glans that are already slick with pre. His lips purse against the burning head. "You know," He mumbles into his dick. "You're like the only guy who's cut out of all of us."
Kyle's reply is delayed by his urge and refusal to groan out loud. He sucks his lip between his teeth, watching Kenny skillfully tease his tip. "I am?" He croaks. "Wait, how do you know that?"
Kenny doesn't offer him a proper response, just crookedly smirks before ducking his head until his lips meet the base. Kyle would continue to question the implications of such a statement, but it's hard to focus when there's a mouth around your dick. So he doesn't. He moans low from his chest, lets his head fall back into the wooden headboard of his bed, and slips his fingers absently through Kenny's tousled hair. His mouth is warm, throat snug around him like it was meant for lodging his cock.
Kenny gets to work in no time. He lifts his head slowly, unsheathing Kyle's dick inch by inch. Then, with a swirl of his tongue around the tip, takes him all the way back in. Kyle damn near whimpers, his thighs shuddering on either side of his bobbing head. He jerks his hips forward. It's automatic, involuntary, and entirely humiliating. A blatant display of both his desperation and severe lack of self-control. Kenny, thankfully, doesn't quite seem to be in the position to tease. Especially not with the way he gags as the head hits his pharynx. Kyle watches it happen — the sudden crease of his nose, the shine of water layered over his eyes, the sheer panic etched into every one of his features. He almost cums right there.
Fortunately, or maybe not so, Kenny pulls off. "Watch it," He hoarsely warns, more playfully than anything.
Kyle mutters a weak apology, thumb caressing his forehead in an attempt to spur him back on. As if knowing of his intentions, Kenny wavers to take him in, rolling his tongue lazily under the frenulum and trailing delicate kisses along the length. He's teasing him. And it's working. Maybe Kyle deserves it for unintentionally choking him, but still.
Kyle huffs in frustrated breaths, his hips arching up and trying pathetically to buck his way into his mouth. Kenny doesn't budge. He smirks coyly against his dick, back curved in a way that intentionally flaunts his bony ass. The sight really shouldn't make Kyle as horny as it does, but alas, his cock is thinking in place of his mind. Kenny's warm breath grazes over the reddened skin. His thumb sweeps along the weeping slit. He's infuriating. Absolutely maddening. How the hell has he gotten so many people to fuck him? Kyle's tempted to take things into his own hands, furiously jerk himself until he shoots across that smug face, but he doesn't get the chance to act upon the notion before Kenny's finally swallowing him back up.
"Fuck," Kyle bites out. "Fuck, Kenny."
A groan drags from his throat, bordering on a whine. Kenny hums pridefully in response. That cocky bastard. He's keeping his gaze up, not once averting it from Kyle as he sucks. His lips are stretched in accommodation to his girth, corners curled up in what vaguely resembles a cheeky smile. He's practically begging for Kyle to fuck it off his face, at this point. Kenny maintains a deliberately slow tempo, getting nearer to the base with each pass, his hand wringing whatever was left out of his mouth. It's not until Kenny moans around him — a soft, vulnerable noise willfully designed to drive him insane — that Kyle ultimately snaps. He reaches down, clutching a fist of his blonde locks, and tugs. Hard.
"Mmph—" A surprised yelp is yanked from Kenny's chest. His hands fly to Kyle's hips, blunt nails digging into the firm flesh. He doesn't push. Doesn't fight. He just stays put, throat spasming as he chokes and slobbers.
And Kyle watches. Kenny's always had a pretty face. Soft features and subtle freckles and eyes of a unique amethyst hue. Never once had Kyle imagined it looking this good on his cock. Kyle shoves his palm to the back of his head, driving his nose into the red curls dusting his pelvis. Kenny struggles visibly for air, face crinkled and burning crimson, eyes tightly screwed shut.
Kyle secures his grip on his hair. "Eyes on me," He orders, gruff. "Fuck— Fucking look at me. Now."
A whimper sounds, stifled by his dick. Kenny pries his eyelids apart. Kyle doesn't move, nor does he ease the pressure on the back of his head, not until he sees two tears swell in the corners of his eyes. He practically shivers as they start to roll down his face. Finally, he pulls Kenny's head back, blunt tip dragging along the roof of his mouth and leaking precum against his flattened tongue. His thrusts start shallow, slow enough for Kyle to take in each shift of his expression. Kenny's brows are drawn together, wet lips sliding across the veins of his dick, eyes lidded and undeniably eager.
"Hff— fuck.." Kyle gasps. "Greedy slut."
Another groan vibrates around him.
He's close. Too close. Coming barely five minutes into this would be more than embarrassing, but his dignity by this point has become more of an afterthought. So, mind dimmed by the haze of arousal, he recklessly races toward his orgasm. His grasp on Kenny's hair remains taut as he slams into him. Kenny gags noisily, hands scrambling against his thighs, drool starting to lap at his chin. His throat makes wet, sloppy choking sounds every time Kyle punches into it.
In almost no time, Kyle is teetering on the cusp of release. All it takes is another glance at his face — Reddened, crying, stuffed full of his cock — and then he's gone. Kyle rattles out a cry. Orgasm washes over him, white-hot, blinding and breathless. His heels dig into the mattress, his limbs twitching violently, hips stuttering forward as he shoots down Kenny's throat. Vertigo hits him so hard he forgets to release the vice-grip on his hair. He eventually does, though, and Kenny immediately pulls off.
He's coughing and hacking, scrubbing his face of every liquid. Cum, drool, tears, everything in between. It takes Kyle a moment to drag himself out of his warm, fuzzy stupor. When he does, he sits up, seeing a slumped Kenny at the edge of his bed.
"You good?" He pants, finally clearheaded enough to experience concern.
Kenny's coughing fit ebbs off into a faint chuckle. "You're fucking mean, dude," He says, voice hoarse and cracking.
"Mean?"
"Yeah, mean." Kenny laves his tongue over his lips. "Didn't think you'd be that aggressive in bed, too."
Kyle winces. "I'm not aggressive."
"Impulsive, irritable. You're something." Kenny shrugs, waving a dismissive hand.
Shame creeps up through Kyle's vertebrae. "Sorry," He mumbles.
"Don't be. It's hot."
Kyle just awkwardly nods, ears practically boiling. Whether out of embarrassment, or regret, or worry, Kyle's unsure. He tucks himself back into his jeans, gaze avoidant. "Did you want— Um."
A rock embeds itself in Kyle's throat and he find that he can't quite speak around it. How weird is it to ask to reciprocate after getting a blowjob?
To his luck, Kenny cuts in before the silence can draw out to an uncomfortable length. "My five bucks?"
"Oh, yeah." Kyle nods. "I'll Venmo you later." He looks up to meet his eyes, expecting to instantly regret it. Seeing Kenny's eyes is somehow more comforting than it should be. Maybe it's their natural benevolence. His eyes have always possessed a welcoming aspect, Kyle had noted ever since their sudden closeness.
"Don't," He says. "It's on the house."
Kyle furrows a brow. "What? Wasn't the point of this to get money?"
Kenny just gives him a pert grin.
"…Yeah, totally."