Title: The Bet
Author: whocares10315
Pairing: Cartman/Clyde
Chapter: One Shot
Rating: M to MA for strong sexual content, offensive language, and disturbing themes
Disclaimer: I do not own Matt and Trey's precious babies.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to [your_nonentity] for the request and shared Craig favoritism. Xxx.
Summary: Clyde lost a bet to the worst person possible.

Clyde knew he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.

But this—this thing he got himself into. This took the cake as the dumbest thing he could have ever done. And his friends were not making him feel any better about it.

"Clyde, what the hell were you thinking?" Kyle practically shrieked, looking angry that Cartman was taking another casualty—and so easily. "Are you retarded?!"

"You shouldn't have made that bet," Token sighed, looking like a disappointed parent as he shook his head at Clyde.

"Dude, didn't you know what you were getting yourself into? It's fucking Cartman!" Stan said with disbelief that anyone could still even consider accepting a bet with Cartman.

'"N-now you have to live with this for the rest of your life! Agh!" Tweek twitched, filled with anxiety simply because everyone in the room was shouting. "Now you're his bitch forever, man!"

"I thought I could win," Clyde grumbled pathetically, not meeting his friends' eyes as he sat on the couch, everyone around him. "I mean, wouldn't you bet on the South Park Cows making it to Regional's?"

There was a brief pause before Clyde felt a familiar smack upside the head. He didn't have to look to know it had been Craig.

"Clyde," Kyle started, sounding like he was trying to calm his frustration with Clyde. "When have the Cows ever, and I mean, ever, made it to Regional's?"

"Well, never," Clyde shrugged, frowning.

"So what would possess you to think that they would, this one time, when Cartman bets they don't make it to Regional's!"

"They were having a good year," Clyde defended with a slight pout as Kyle threw his hands up in the air in defeat.

"Okay, this is hopeless," Stan concluded as Kyle babbled on to himself about being unable to believe it. "Clyde—you're fucked. There's nothing we can do about it."

"No!" Clyde cried, looking up at his friends desperately. "You can't let me go through with this! Guys! I need help!"

"Maybe Cartman will take money, instead," Token offered, feeling horrible for his best friend. "We can all pitch in and Clyde can pay us back when he can."

"Are you serious?" Kyle scoffed, turning to the other. "Cartman gets off to seeing people miserable. And he's not gonna just walk away from this bet. I know."

Everyone nodded solemnly. Yes. They all knew that Kyle felt the burn of Cartman's bets. And the consequences for not following through with them.

"Nnh! Maybe-maybe we should just wait 'till Kenny comes back and see what he has to say!" Tweek suggested, jittering slightly as he picked at his shirt.

"What can Kenny do?" Stan shrugged, shaking his head. "Kenny can talk to Cartman better than any of us but I don't see how he can get Clyde out of sucking his balls."

"Maybe Kenny'll do it?" Clyde said hopefully. But he knew judging by the expressions around him that that wasn't happening.

"Dude, Kenny's a total nympho but he's not gonna suck Cartman's balls for you," Kyle said, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought nymphos were only women," Clyde commented absently, frowning at this new development.

"Clyde, that's not the point, okay?" Stan said, trying to get the boy to focus once again. "The point is that you made a bet with fatass and now you have to pay—or run away to Mexico."

"I don't want to go to Mexico!" Clyde said, looking horrified.

"You don't have to go to Mexico," Craig said flatly, blinking slowly at Stan's characteristically absurd plan.

"Fine, then he has to go find a bunch of hippies and turn into one," Stan countered swiftly and in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

"I don't want to be a hippie!" Clyde whined, looking at the others for a different answer.

"Clyde does not have to be a hippie," Craig said, looking at Stan pointedly and silently telling him to shut up. "Clyde made a bet and he can't walk away from it. He has to suck Eric's balls."

"Craig!" Token practically scolded, looking at him in disbelief. "You're just gonna let your friend suck Cartman's balls without even trying to help? What kind of friend are you?"

"Yeah, Craig," Clyde frowned, glaring up at the dark-haired boy. As usual, he joined in the argument to the side that seemed like it was winning—whether or not the issue was about him or not.

"It sucks," Craig sighed with what could have been pity. "But it's Clyde's problem and a deal's a deal. He might as well just get it over with like a man, and forget all about it."

"Are you crazy?" Kyle cut in, glaring at Craig. "This isn't about some bet! It's about Clyde standing up for himself and being able to tell fatass that he's not gonna suck his balls for anything, not now, not ever!"

Clyde was starting to think that he wanted Kyle to say all that to Cartman for him. He couldn't remember all that.

"Clyde wouldn't even have to be thinking about that if he didn't take on Cartman's bet in the first place," Craig snapped back coolly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he argued with the redhead.

"Oh, so you're blaming your friend?" Kyle snarled, pointing at Craig accusingly. "Well, if Cartman wasn't such a twisted, manipulative son of a bitch who could mold Clyde's easily corruptible brain into betting on the Cows—who he knows is one of Clyde's favorite things—Clyde wouldn't have even been considered as an easy target and been involved at all!"

Clyde wasn't sure how he should have felt about Kyle thinking he was an "easy target" or that he had an "easily corruptible brain." But Kyle was a smartass. Everyone in town knew that.

"Stop making this about your grudge against Eric, it's not helping," Craig replied evenly, his response being so brief and sharp in contrast to Kyle's very wordy and erratic explanation.

Before Kyle could lunge at Craig, Stan and Token held him back as Tweek recoiled slightly, shivering more. Once Kyle was under control, Stan pulled out his phone.

"It's Kenny," he announced, making the room go quiet and everyone's attention draw to Stan as he read the text. "He said there was no way talking Cartman out of it. Apparently it was all fatass could talk about while he was over." Stan looked up at Clyde. "He's sorry."

"Goddamn it," Token grunted, as if hoping at the blond could have done something. Anything. The last hope.

"I'm telling you," Craig reiterated, placing a hand on Clyde's shoulder in what appeared to be a sympathetic gesture, looking at the other. "Just get it over with. Nobody here will judge you for it after."

"Y-yeah," Tweek agreed, stepping forward, smiling slightly at his friend. "We can just forget about it! Nobody else has to know, right?"

Clyde was humiliated. He started regretting asking them for help. Now they all knew. And despite how supportive they seemed to be, they would rip on him for it. He just knew it. Maybe not too soon but eventually—he knew it would come up in conversation and for all the people who didn't know about it, they would have to explain. Clyde just knew it. He knew it because he hated when people talked about him or had a problem with him. He would do absolutely anything just to be liked and not be embarrassed in front of everybody. Even compromise his own opinions.

"Dude, we're sorry," Stan said with a sheepish shrug, looking at the other sadly. "But—you just should've known. You don't mess with Cartman."

"And you can always try saying 'no,' and tell the fatass he's a faggot for asking," Kyle added despite himself, though his eyes were clearly regretful as well. They all knew Cartman wouldn't stop with a simple "no."

Clyde knew what he had to do. He slowly got up with a sigh, grabbing his jacket as he went to the door. He didn't look at anyone as his friends moved aside to let him through. Once he got his jacket on and opened the door, he looked back at his friends, as if checking for one last time if they had an idea or a glimmer of hope for him.

None of them would meet his eyes. Not even Craig, who stared at the ground. Not even Tweek, who would glance up and look away multiple times, consecutively, while twitching nervously. Not even Token, who gave him on apologetic look before looking away as well.

Clyde was alone on this.

He left the house and shut the door behind him. He knew the way to Cartman's house from Stan's place. Everybody knew everyone. He started slowly making his way there, reluctantly accepting his fate. He was going to have to do the unthinkable and leave with the personal ramifications for it, let alone the social ones. Clyde didn't know if he could swallow his pride enough to be able to do this and be okay with himself afterwards. It was one thing to suck somebody's balls at all but somebody like Cartman?

Clyde's heart sank at the thought. Man, the bastard wouldn't let him live it down. Ever. He would mention it any moment he could. God, why did he say yes to that stupid bet?

Before he realized, he had ended up in front of Cartman's house. He took a deep breath, shaking his head to himself as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and walked up to the door. As he was about to knock, Kenny opened the door, looking like he was just on his way out. Kenny blinked at him before smiling sadly and placing a reassuring hand on Clyde's shoulder. He didn't say anything. Clyde didn't expect him to. Kenny was either too talkative or mute. And Clyde knew there was nothing Kenny could say. After a long pause, Kenny nodded and released Clyde, walking around him and tugging his hood up.

"Hello, Clyde."

A shiver went up Clyde's spine as he slowly turned to look inside and see that Cartman was standing there. Waiting.

"I thought you were never gonna get here," Cartman sneered, taking a step toward Clyde. Every instinct told Clyde to run for it. But Cartman would find him. Somehow.

"Let's just get this over with," Clyde grumbled as coldly as he could muster, staring down at his sneakers as he stepped in past Cartman.

"Eager, aren't you?" Cartman smirked, shutting the door behind Clyde before following him into the living room.

Clyde said nothing and simply turned to Cartman with clenched fists and clamped lips. He knew that if he were any younger, he probably would have cried out of pure humiliation. Clyde met Cartman's eyes fiercely and frowned at the larger boy. Sure, after so many years, Clyde had dropped all his baby fat and Cartman, in turn, slimmed down slightly but still had some excess bulk that was all muscle.

"Just shut up and let's just do this already," Clyde snarled, sounding as pathetic as he felt.

"All right, all right, let's slow down, shall we?" Cartman practically cooed, a smug look on his face.

Clyde swallowed back a lump at the look and couldn't even bear to look at him. He knew what lengths Cartman went through to try to ruin Kyle's life so long ago. Clyde begged God not to let Cartman use any cameras or weird costumes.

"Let me take your jacket," Cartman offered with mocking politeness, moving in on Clyde and placing his hands on his shoulders. "Do make yourself comfortable, Clyde."

Clyde bit back another retort and simply did what he asked, shrugging Cartman's touch off along with his jacket. He knew there was no other way out of it but to submit and listen to what the other male had to say. He let Cartman take his jacket, still staring at his shoes, as if doing so would make the whole situation melt away.

"Shoes and socks off at the door, Clyde," Cartman said with dripping cruelty, watching Clyde turn away from him and kick off his sneakers, almost violently. He tugged his socks off and resisted the urge to throw them at Cartman before returning.

"Now?" Clyde said through clenched teeth, face flushing with suppressed emotion. His eyes stung. If he wasn't careful, he really may start crying angry tears. Clyde was always one of the more emotional kids in his class, even after so many years and so many claims that he was a playboy with the ladies.

"Not just yet, Clyde," Cartman said, blinking innocently as he sat down on the couch and crossed his legs in a businessman-like manner. "We're not quite ready."

"Well, hurry the fuck up, asshole. I don't have all day," Clyde found himself saying almost halfheartedly. There was no insulting the other now. It was just too weak against what Cartman had in store for him. Cartman won.

"I don't think you can do this until you're completely naked, Clyde," Cartman said casually, flicking his wrist at the subject like it was nothing. "So chop, chop, Clyde. Get those clothes off."

"What!" Clyde shouted, his voice going up drastically, looking horrified. "I don't have to take my clothes off! That's not part of the deal!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Clyde, I just don't see how I'm going to enjoy myself if I don't have you on your knees, naked," Cartman shrugged, lips twitching in what threatened to be a wide and malicious grin at Clyde's priceless expression. "Drop 'em."

"No," Clyde said defiantly, crossing his arms. "I'm not doing it. Either you let me keep my clothes on, or I'm getting the hell out of here."

"That's fine," Cartman nodded to those terms as he glanced down to check the imaginary dirt under his nails. "Then I guess you're okay with people knowing that you cry and jack off when you watch The Notebook."

Clyde's eyes grew wide and his face went pale.

"H-how do you know about that?" Clyde asked quietly, shaking his head in disbelief. But what was he thinking? He shouldn't have doubted Cartman's ways. His unethical, manipulative ways.

"I know people who know something about something," Cartman said vaguely, smirking at Clyde's expression as he tapped his foot in the air slightly, tilting his head. "The point is, you have a choice, Clyde: Suck my balls, as agreed, and on my terms. Only you and I have to know about it. Or, let everyone in the entire town know that you cry like a baby while jerking off like a fag while watching the biggest chick flick of them all."

Clyde felt like he was going to throw up. He even covered his mouth to keep himself from the mere impulse. He gagged slightly as he shook a bit, unable to handle the mere chagrin of what was happening. Such unspeakable mortification. He was trapped. And he knew it.

"O-okay, fine, fine," Clyde said a bit desperately, sounding like he really was going to cry as he looked at Cartman. "I'll do whatever you want just please, please don't tell anyone! Please!"

Cartman looked thoughtful, twisting his lips up as he looked up at the ceiling as if the answer was there.

"Hmm, all right, since you asked so nice, I think we can make an arrangement," Cartman nodded, his expression darkening into that of a sinister nature. "Better start strippin' down."

Clyde licked his dry lips in attempts to relax his anxiety as he reached up behind his back, fisted his shirt, and tugged it up over his head. It was then he realized his arms were shaking slightly. He bunched up his shirt into a ball, sucking in his lips, and shutting his eyes.

This could not be happening.

"Slow down there, Clyde. What's the hurry?" Cartman mused almost coyly from his seat.

Clyde released a burst of air, quivering slightly as he tossed his shirt aside. His fingers twitched as he worked at his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them. He pressed the waist of his jeans down off his hips, bending over slightly to push his pants down to his ankles. He kicked them off, turning away from Cartman slightly as he stood in only his grey boxer briefs. Goosebumps trailed up and down every inch of Clyde's body because of the chill of being naked, as well as the intolerable embarrassment.

"Look at me, Clyde," Cartman demanded, making Clyde's body tense before he turned to the other, slowly looking up at Cartman, rubbing his arms.

He could feel Cartman's eyes trailing over his naked form. He could feel the joy it brought him. He loved seeing people in their most vulnerable state. Clyde lifted his chin stubbornly to look at Cartman, despite the sad, droopy look his eyes brought.

"Now?" Clyde whispered, seething with silent hate.

"Well, you still got your underwear on, but I'll let it slide, I guess," Cartman sighed, sounding exasperated as he crossed his arms and rested his chin in his palm, observing the other. "Are you gonna get on your knees any time soon?"

Clyde's words choked him but he ground his teeth and simply dropped down on his knees. He bowed his head slightly but kept his blue eyes fixed on Cartman's sneering face. He had to admit—Clyde wasn't a very hateful person but that sneer just made him want to punch the other until there was no recognizable trait left.

"All fours, Clyde," Cartman said with sickening sweetness, making Clyde grimace to himself before reaching his hands out and shifting his weight. Like a slave—an animal, even—he was on his hands and knees, in front of the sick young man, sitting comfortably on the couch before him.

"Now, listen to me very carefully, Clyde," Cartman began, his voice holding a very frightening powerful and controlling edge, though his volume did not rise. "You are going to unbutton my pants and pull down my zipper with your teeth, understand?"

"Are you-" Clyde gasped, blinking up at the other. "Wh-"

"Clyde," Cartman interjected sharply. "We made a deal, Clyde."

Clyde was legitimately scared of Cartman's warning tone. He blinked a couple of times before sighing dejectedly and nodding slightly, starting to crawl over to Cartman.

"That's what I thought," Cartman chuckled coldly. "You go ahead and unzip my pants like the little faggot slut that you are."

Clyde's throat closed up and he made a small noise that sounded liked a grunt as he moved between Cartman's spread legs. His face screwed up, visibly wincing at the mere prospect. But he knew Cartman was waiting. And either way, he was going to be humiliated. Clyde had made his decision.

He leaned over, gingerly taking Cartman's wide hips as if not wanting to touch him, and pulled his lips back to teeth at the button. Though Clyde had wanted to avoid pressing his lips against Cartman at all, he found his cheeks aching as he roughly tugged Cartman's button free like a dog with his chew toy. Cartman placed a hand on Clyde's shoulder, it feeling heavy and hot on his bare skin, holding him in his place in case he decided to pull back. Clyde's body shook at the contact but he focused on the task and finally managed to tug the button free, panting slightly from the ordeal. He groaned slightly, his teeth and face aching from the strain.

"Very nice, Clyde," Cartman complimented sardonically, making Clyde glance up at him. "But you're not quite finished, are you? Come, come, do hurry."

Clyde bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut before taking a breath and moving in again. He curled his tongue under the cool metal zipper to clamp it between his teeth, his lips inevitably pressed to Cartman's flesh. He shut his eyes once more as he arched his back slightly and tugged the zipper down. To Clyde's dismay and slight horror, Cartman appeared to be somewhat aroused. Clyde was utterly disgusted, despite the logic that after playing around there with his mouth, Cartman would have to be inhuman not to feel something.

Clyde suddenly felt Cartman's other hand on his face, holding it roughly and making him look up at him. Clyde cringed, the movement being so sudden to him as he looked up at Cartman fearfully. He felt Cartman's palm scalding him on his cheek, eyes begging for Cartman to say anything, anything at all, because it was just far too quiet.

Before Clyde could blink, Cartman's lips were on his. Clyde almost screamed into Cartman's mouth, trying to pull away to ask what the hell Cartman thought he was doing. But Cartman's hold on him was firm and Clyde found himself trying to speak against Cartman's kiss, his lips beginning to move back against the other male's.

His protests were reduced to whimpers of defeat as Clyde pressed his eyes tightly shut, unable to believe what was happening. He couldn't fight the other anymore. Cartman had control. He could feel it in the way Cartman held his face like a vice. He could taste the ferocity in Cartman's surprisingly soft lips. He could feel it in his firm fingertips as they dug into his shoulder and trailed down his front.

Clyde tried many times to keep his lips dormant and closed but Cartman's coaxing tongue and lips made it impossible. And Clyde almost forgot who he was with. It almost felt—good. Clyde, ignorant as ever, felt the bet and the humiliation start to drip away as he got lost in sensation as he always did with the countless girls he had been with. The heartbreak, the hurt feelings, the awkwardness—it always went away when Clyde's lips met someone else's. When primal need came into play. And as Clyde found his arms moving to wrap around Cartman's firm neck and he tilted his head to deepen the strange yet shockingly passionate kiss, he slipped back into routine.

Clyde released a gentle moan as Cartman's hand tugged his hair firmly and possessively, other hand winding around his upper torso, pulling him closer. Clyde felt his face flush, burning with heat, as he felt Cartman's tongue trace his lips before nipping them. Never having the taste of being dominated, Clyde found himself melting against Cartman, gasping quietly at every break their lips made. His spine wobbled with the sudden, new thrill and Clyde couldn't explain it to himself. But he never tried to. He never delved too far inside his own thoughts. He simply experienced. And he let Cartman grab him, admittedly relishing being handled so roughly. But despite Cartman's heated and wandering hands, his lips remained fervent and even—sweet.

Cartman finally pulled his lips away to look at Clyde who gasped at finally being able to breathe. Cartman looked Clyde over, his entire body flushing a faint pink, his cheeks a dull red. He watched Clyde lick his lips, the flesh around them looking slick. He trailed his eyes up to meet dark blue with chocolate brown. The look sent a shiver down Clyde's spine. And Clyde couldn't define it. But he did not release him.

"Get out," Cartman said flatly, pushing Clyde back into a sitting position and zipping up his pants.

"Huh?" Clyde asked, looking very much like a confused puppy. Or maybe just a dumb kid.

"What are you, deaf? Get the fuck out of here," Cartman reinforced as he stood up, buttoning up. "Get out of my house."

"But-but I didn't-" Clyde stammered dumbly before gasping when Cartman grabbed him by the throat as if to choke him.

"I said, 'Get, the fuck, out,' Clyde," Cartman snarled, nose brushing Clyde's.

Clyde didn't need another order. He scrambled away from Cartman, grabbing his clothes, hastily and sloppily throwing them on before dashing out the door. Clyde was breathless and disoriented as he stood in front of Cartman's house in the sidewalk, with his jeans half-on, his shirt awkwardly hanging off one arm, and his socks and shoes in his hand. He stared back up at the house, looking puzzled and dumbfounded. He shrugged on his jacket, shoving his socks in the pockets before slipping his sneakers on, crushing the heels.

He started to shuffle away, trying to make sense of what just happened before stopping and looking back again. Despite all the confusion and things that didn't add up, one thing stood out in Clyde's simple mind. Cartman had kissed him. And though Clyde may not pick up on things very well, he could feel how much Cartman had meant it. It scared him but at the same time—it was almost reassuring. Like coming home, somehow.

Clyde shook his head, physically batting his head slightly as he walked on. No. No, he was just thinking too much again. Cartman was messing with it, just like Kyle had said. Clyde simply concluded the day as awesome because, for whatever reason, he didn't have to suck anyone's balls. And that reason was something Clyde was completely disinterested in finding out.

~*~

He had photographed the moment in his mind. Cartman could close his eyes and see him. He could see Clyde looking up at him, desperate for something. Stripped of most everything, including his pride. He could taste his expert lips against his own clumsy ones. He could feel the unmistakable shivers his touch had given the other brunette. He could see every little detail of Clyde's face as he looked at him after kissing him. That look of question- curiosity- hunger- or even lust for answers. For more.

"Hey Eric!"

Cartman heard Butters' voice behind him as he looked out his bedroom window at nothing in particular, holding something in his hands.

"E-eric?" Butters asked again. Cartman still did not turn.

"So did it-did it all go okay?" Butters asked curiously and quietly.

"Yes, Butters," Cartman replied without looking at the other in his room. "All according to plan."

"Oh well, uh, that's good, right?" Butters said in an encouraging and happy way.

Despite how long Cartman had teased the boy endlessly, Butters was the only one who knew the darkest part of Cartman and didn't question his methods. Not unless he wanted Cartman to threaten him.

"Leave me alone, Butters," Cartman said without remorse. "I don't want you here."

"Oh! Oh, well—well, all right then," Butters murmured awkwardly. He heard the other leave.

Cartman looked down at his stuffed animal, raising an eyebrow and wondering how he had gotten so attached to such things as a child. He looked back out the window, almost able to see his own reflection on the window pane.

Yes, it all went according to "plan." After all, Cartman couldn't get anything he wanted in this world unless he used fear. And he had used it, all right. He was an expert. He wouldn't hesitate to use it on anyone. On Clyde. Even Clyde.

He absently pressed the head of the stuffed animal against his lips in thought, almost feeling the sensitive tingle and memory of what had just happened.

Yes. He would even use fear on Clyde if it meant he could just have a single, fleeting moment he could store in his memories forever.

Cartman turned away from the window with a sigh before placing Clyde Frog back on the dresser and going down stairs to see if his mother had left dinner in the freezer for him that night.

~*Love? Hate? Undecided? Let me know. Thanks for reading!*~