A.N- On one hand I'm dealing with a caring and loving, Kyle-obsessed Stan, and on the other I'm dealing with a fucked up douchey Stan.

Warning- Contains a lot of male/male smut, like actually, and it's my first time writing it. Both con and non-con. I'll advise you not to read if you don't like that stuff.

Disclaimer- Characters don't belong to me, ha.

I can hear his panting behind me, his hot breath brushing against my sensitive ear. "Stan," I gasp out breathlessly, rocking backward and forward as he grinds himself into me. But my desperate cry is ignored by the person digging his fingers into my hips, his mind too preoccupied by the quickening motion and the burning thrusts.

"Stan!" I cry out once more. He's coming close, I can feel it. So I bite down on my lips to keep every noise inside my mouth, and let my mind concentrate. Not on the motion, or the burn, or the pain of scraping skin, but the warmth. Feeling him close to me, the wonderful idea, and wait. Wait for it to end. For the- countless amounts of times- for it to end.

And it does. He groans deeply behind my ear as he gives one last thrust and releases into me. I feel warmth, but not that wonderful comfortable warmth, spread inside me as I hear aggressive panting behind me. A mixture of saliva, sweat, and seed drops on my naked back and slides down my side as he pulls himself out of me, letting go of me so I drop motionlessly onto the mattress. Falling down onto the covers, I notice the fierce sound of my own ragged breath.

I hear rustling behind me, I feel him leave my side to slide back into his clothes, and instantly, I feel hopeless. I stay dead still, frozen on my bed, even killing my own desperate breaths, to keep something more agonising inside me. There's a strong urge inside me, the same as always, to pray that he would think of me as a statue and walk out my room in silence. But he doesn't, of course.

As he leans over my bed and opens my bedroom door, he brushes my curls out of my still face and kisses me on my cheek, quickly, once, before sliding out into the coldness.

The second I hear the window close shut, my whole body releases its tension into a desperate shake. My shoulders are almost jumping up and down as I sink my silent tears into the mattress, forcing myself from making any noise of despair. Because that is all I feel. After every time. Despair. That is what his kiss gives me every night, my own earn I get in exchange. And ironically, excruciatingly, it tells me the one thing that I don't want to hear. 'I could never love you.'

After every session I feel empty, cold, and desperately alone. And I hate myself. For loving him in this damned way. For letting him have me even while I don't desire it, knowing that he'd never love me.

We are perfect for each other. We both have raging desires for each other. The only problem is, what we want from each other is completely different. While I feel for him dying affection, all he feels for me is boiling lust.

How different am I from a prostitute? Having sex with a person that doesn't love me, just from the desperateness to earn some of his love.

Oh god. When did this ever begin?

o

My love for him grew every day, as cheesy as that might sound, before all of this began. I knew it because the amount of pain I felt watching him and his beloved girlfriend together also grew with every day. But it was just pain, it hurt but, on one side I was happy just to be around him. At least I didn't have any sexual desires for him; that would have made things much more complicated, I think, and even more painful. No, I loved him, but I never wanted anything more than a gentle kiss and holding hands. God, I hate myself. But at least that meant that I never felt guilty being around him, I only ever felt joy.

On the last week of the previous summer holidays me, Stan, and my other two friends Kenny and Cartman went to one of the holiday houses Cartman's grandma left for her grandson and his mother. It was isolated and in the middle of nowhere but we liked that. It made us feel like we were the only ones in the whole world and the rulers of the earth. In the house there were three bedrooms, each with a queen bed. Strange design, I know.

The plan was for each pair to share one queen, if you know your math yes, there were meant to be another two to occupy the last room: Stan's girlfriend Wendy, and her best friend Bebe. But Wendy accidently enrolled for some summer volunteer thing and cancelled the trip, naturally, her best friend cancelled too. That left us with Stan and I sharing one room, and Kenny and Cartman getting one for their own.

"It's a bummer Wendy couldn't come, huh?" I asked my best friend on the first night as I snuggled into the bed. But it was a lie. I couldn't have been happier. It meant that I didn't need to feel my insides shrivel up into a stone as I watched my crush hide into his own love-world with his girlfriend. It meant that I had him all to myself.

Stan stayed silent as he took his shirt off, ready for bed. He sleeps in just his jeans you know, and boxers, I guess. I never understood why. I am more of the full set of pyjamas kinda guy. It was those times when I felt glad that my hormones didn't kick in at the sight of his naked torso. It did make me self-conscious though, I mean, he was strongly built and tanned, while I was skinny and pale. But as much as I loved him, I couldn't imagine myself having a boner for my crush.

"I mean," I continued, chuckling nervously, "I don't know what we would've done if she did come though. I mean, who would have Bebe slept with?"

"What do you mean?" Stan asked as he slid into the covers, I eyed him confusingly.

"Well, Wendy would have slept with you, that means Bebe would have been alone."

"Why would I sleep with Wendy?" The question slipped out of him quickly and I turned my head.

"Well," I sucked on my bottom lip, my stomach feeling queasy. "Wouldn't you guys want to have made sweet, sweet memories? You know…" I rolled my hands in a pointless gesture, but I think he knew what I meant.

Stan scrunched his nose up and turned his back on me, emitting some sort of pinning aura around him. "We wouldn't have…" He muttered into the sheets. It was hard to comprehend.

"Huh?" I asked stupidly.

He flung up letting the blanket slide off of him and turned to face me, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "Dude, I wouldn't have been able to make 'sweet, sweet memories' with Wendy."

"Why not?" And then I blinked in realisation. "Haven't you two slept together yet?" I whispered to him.

"Sex!" He burst, making me jump away from him, just an inch. "I can barely kiss her dude, without throwing up on her! Don't you think that it would be a little difficult for me to have sex with her?" He bites.

"Do you- want to?" The words shook out of me.

"Of course- I mean, maybe. I'm not sure-" He suddenly calmed down and relaxed his back into the pillow. "I mean, yeah, my body wants it, bad. But I don't want to have sex with her. You know. Not right now. You know that stupid thing where they say that you shouldn't have sex until you get married? That's what I sorta feel about Wendy. I really want to treasure her and, I don't want to have sex with her just for the pleasure. I want it to mean something…" He looked into the sheets, eyes looking right through and into his own world, seeing the vision of his loved one. The amount of care and love he has for his girlfriend made my insides mush up together as I listened to him, and then he chuckled. "That and I guess I'm just scared she'll think I suck at it." He mumbled nervously.

Listening to him, having that intimate conversation, somehow made me feel like there was this large cliff in between us, driving us apart. At that moment I never felt so apart from him, cold, alone, and hopeless.

"Do you want to try on me?"

The words froze the room, and for a second, I didn't know whom they came from. But when Stan flung his head up, gaping his sapphire eyes at me in bewilderment, I knew they came from me. And at that second when I realised, I thought I even wanted it. I thought that maybe some skin contact, feeling his warmth, would make that cliff in between us disappear, and I wouldn't feel so alone.

"You could practice… on me, you know. To get used to the feeling." The words flooded out of me, without thought, and with instant regret. I yelled at myself 'You sick fuck! Why the fuck would he want to do anything to you, you fucking faggot! Now you just creeped him out for the rest of his life and ruined the friendship that held you two together!'

My shoulders trembled, and I felt the vibration reach my lips, making anymore words impossible to squeeze out. I simply dragged the blanket over my mouth and dropped myself into the mattress, hoping the springy softness would sink me into its comfort and make me disappear. But I wasn't about to disappear and I felt his eyes dig into me, making my face boil with every single negative emotion a person could feel for themselves.

But a second later, I felt angular fingers rest on my shaking shoulder and pulled me back, making me turn to face him. A second later our mouths were connected, and another second later, his tongue was dancing around my own. And at that second, I felt my whole body shudder, the sudden realisation shooting through my insides.

Just because he didn't want to have sex with Wendy didn't mean that he didn't want it at all. As he continued to practically eat off my frozen mouth, I felt his whole body responding. His heartbeat was racing, making his fluids flow through his body a million miles per hour. Every pore on his body was activating, making every hair on him stand up with tension. His body heat seemed to begin to boil, his breath on me beginning to feel like steam. His lust was overwhelming, and at that second, it was directed straight at me.

He pushed my pyjama shirt up around my collarbone, not bothered to unbutton my fiddly top. I felt him lick along my skinny torso, glazing his teeth around my nipples, and strangely, my body responded. A cold shiver shot through my thighs and run up my spine and exited my mouth as a loud moan. It was a sound that I didn't even know that I could make. I heard his breath shudder in response against my skin, but he didn't look up to face me, which I was glad about. I knew my face had turned into something that didn't resemble Kyle Broflovski.

Suddenly, I felt something tug around my hips and I nearly yelped as Stan aggressively yanked my pants down along with my underpants. Without a second for my mind to register what's happening, I herd frustrated unzipping and looked down curiously to see Stan pull something out of his pants, and when I saw it, I instantly flung my head back up, subconscious tears tinging the corner of my eyes and acid worming in my stomach. I wondered if my own dick was reacting like Stan's, trying to half runaway from reality.

I heard the bedside draw crash to the ground as Stan flung it out to grab a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms out. The bedroom was filled with it. Every single draw was filled with condoms and lube, even a few 'sex toys'. We guessed the bedroom to have been specialised for Cartman's mum.

I heard the rustling of the small packet and silently panicked. My mind knew what Stan was about to do and I wanted to cry out loud, terrified about what was about to happen. Liquid was being squeezed out of the bottle and I breathed deeply into my palm, trying to calm down. My breath began to calm as Stan pulled my thighs up, bending my knees, but when I felt him lift my cheeks apart and press something warm against my hole, my breath instantly froze.

I actually gasped a scream that time, out of pain, and I felt Stan take back with panicked hesitation. I sobbed ragged breaths into my hand as Stan fidgeted for a second and I knew that he found out too that the key was too big for the keyhole. A second later, I heard more lube being squeezed out and something thinner pressing into my entrance.

More sobs leaked out of me as I felt the skinny digit dig into me, but it didn't hurt as much as I imagined it to be and I relaxed a bit. But I continued to feel myself squeeze hard, wrapping around Stan's finger tightly. It was when a second, slightly thicker digit squeezed into me when I felt like screaming again, but this time he didn't hold back. He was already holding too much and I could tell that he was about to explode. He began to widen my entrance forcefully, scissoring, making me ready for something I knew my butt wouldn't like.

When his fingers pulled out of me my body instantly relaxed, my breath releasing out of me, but not a moment later, I was returned back to my original state, knees bent and spread apart.

I tried to think of different things, like ice cream or long walks on the beach. Like Peter Pan imagining happy things in order to fly, or like counting backwards while losing consciousness before an operation. But when Stan dug into me, I was dragged straight back to the painful reality.

I locked my teeth onto my palm to keep most noises inside of me, but groans and moans leaked through my nose. I almost wished that I didn't force him to hold in before, because now he couldn't hold anything back. Aggressively and uncontrollably, he thrust into me.

My skin felt like it was ripping, and I think it actually did. I remembered the haemorrhoid I got when I was in elementary school and thought my butt wouldn't face any more challenges, but I guess I was wrong. The thrusting, adjusting, grinding, and twisting lasted for what felt to be the whole night, which was in reality much more shorter.

It ended as Stan's pace quickened and became more desperate, I heard him grunt and moan throughout the whole thing, but when I heard the long groan and slight warmth, I knew it was over. He might have not had the ability to restrain his forceful entry, but at least he had the decency to wear a condom. I shuddered at the thought of cleaning his seed out of my throbbing butt hole.

He dragged himself out of me and cleaned himself as I shakily slid my pants back up and top back down, wincing as I did. I turned to my side, hiding myself from the boy next to me. I saw my teeth marks on my palm turning purple and shining with saliva, and strangely, that made me realise that I had tears drying on my cheeks.

But I still felt myself burning even as I tried to relax and calm my breath. I slid my hand down and tensed when I felt myself gone hard. I didn't notice under the immense pain, and now that I noticed, I felt like crying. I gripped my erection praying it to go away as Stan returned to the bed without a word.

I wished for him to quickly go asleep and ignore me, but to my surprised, he talked.

"Why did you think about this?" He asked quietly. I flinched in my spot, my vision turning blurry, and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Because I… love you…" It was merely a murmur and my breath was shaking, but he heard it. I know it because he tensed, and it made my body shake even more. Again I was terrified.

But then I heard shuffling, and I felt him lean over me, gazing into my face. My shaking instantly froze. My face was boiling, sweaty and covered in dry tears, in a complete mess and I wished I could have disappeared forever. But then I felt something soft against my cheek. Stan had kissed me.

"You were amazing." He whispered breathlessly into my ear, seductively, yet gently.

Instantly, my whole body went back into its shaking and I tightened my grip around my crotch. I felt Stan's gaze on my grip and felt him slide his hands around, one in between my waist and the mattress, and the other inside my grip and into my pants. He slowly pumped, and my body tensed again. My back slowly arching and my voice moaning until I finally released into his hand.

We quickly cleaned up, again, and returned to bed without another sound.

I forgot which way we slept that night. Whether we faced each other or had our backs to each other, or whether one of us was facing the other's back. All I remember is, ever since then we have developed two silent rules. Firstly, when we got alone, I would let Stan go as far as he want to have sex with me. And second, after it was finished he would give me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

o

The gentle kisses were nice, at the start. That gentle touch after such rough action made me even believe that he had some affection for me. But when the next day comes and we go back to school, I am forced to face reality. The reality that Stan doesn't love me, but he loves with all his heart Wendy Testaburger.

He is a different person around her from when he is with me, soft, kind, gentle and subtle. I see it when he brushes his fingers along the tips of her black hair, or when a smile spreads across his lips as they lean against each other. They create their own world.

Then what was I? What am I to him? Going to school with an aching butt, almost limping sometimes, and pretend that nothing is wrong, that I don't feel any physical or mental pain. I began to regret what we did at summer, what I have begun.

Is it really worth it? The small gentle kiss? At first I thought it was, but now I question myself. All it does to me now is create a black hole in my stomach, leaving me empty and helpless. The sex is something I don't necessarily look forward to, at all in fact. It is rough and messy, and shows me a side of Stan that was something I didn't fall in love with. But I couldn't bring myself to stop loving him at that either, and I still can't. And afterwards I'm left cold and utterly alone and that feeling only increases the next day when I arrive at school, and I am reminded that he loves someone else.

I am woken up by my perfect biological clock and I gaze out the still dark window, announcing Monday morning, the beginning of yet another school week. I stare at the darkness dully, exhausted still, but get ready for school in silence. I walk to school in the winter, that may sound strange, but I choose to. The pinning morning coldness attacks my skin and makes me numb, just a little, before I arrive at school for another day.

"Kyle! Baby boy." Kenny grins and flings his arm around my shoulder as I stuff my bag into my locker.

"Kenny, don't fucking call me Baby boy, or I swear I'll rip your nose off, I swear." I grit frustratingly, pushing his arm off.

"Wow, dude! Somebody's got their panties in a twist." He surrenders his hands in the air and I wave my textbooks at him to move him out of my way. But he simply dodges and hops up beside me. "Speaking of panties, are those new jeans Kyle? They look nice."

I glare at him looking at my behind and scrunch my nose up. "Fuck off and go to class" I spit at him before jogging off to my own. But when I enter my class, I slump my shoulders as if just remembering: Wendy's in this class.

She smiles and waves at me as I sit down at the desk beside her.

"Are those new jeans?" She asks.

"Is that a new skirt?" I ask her in return. She blushes, and tugs the hem of her skirt down under her desk. As if anyone could see.

"Bebe bought it for me." She mumbles. I hum in return, and wonder if I was just able to hide my complete disinterest. I hardly even feel guilt towards her anymore. At the start it used to eat through my chest, the guilt, but now I merely avoid her direct gaze. Maybe I lost something over the last couple of months, a part of me, somewhere in the black hole inside my stomach.

I basically break my wrist during the session writing frantic notes down, the only thing that can occupy my mind with Stan's girlfriend sitting next to me, oblivious with what her boyfriend did to me the other night. School nights is when I get most my midnight visits from Stan, so basically I have the weekend to recharge for a new week. I crack my wrist at the end of the session, rushing to be one of the first students out of class as Wendy's always one of the last.

Stuffing my books into my locker with one hand, I get out an apple with the other for recess. Thank god this is a tiny school. After only a minute or so my locker area becomes completely abandoned and what is left is my quietness and me, until I leave to look for my own friends as well.

I turn the corner swiftly and bang my nose against someone's firm chest and grunt in pain.

"Hey," A breathless voice says and I look up, my eyes meeting sapphires.

"Ah- Hi." I say to Stan, who is slightly fidgety, and I hear his voice shake carefully out of him. "Are, you okay Stan?" I ask him, confused.

Without instantly answering me, his hand jumps out of his pocket and grasps mine, pulling me with him as he spins his heels.

"I need you-" He whispers, dragging me out of the building and into the freezing air. "Now." A demand.

He finally releases my wrist when we arrived at the back of the school, completely deserted with a dark wall of the forest in front of us. Before I can open my mouth to ask him anything, he shoves me into the cold school wall behind me and attacks my mouth with his, grinding the back of my head into the bricks.

I groan in pain as my complicated curls get tangled into the wall. And then I hear him instantly fidgeting with the front of his jeans and I jolt in disbelief.

"Stan," I gasp through small gaps. "I don't think this is a good idea-" I flinch, the pulling of my hair. "I mean, we'll be late for class."

"It'll just be quick-" He moans as he manages his zipper down, releasing his already ready erection. I flinch again, but not at my hair. He wraps his warm hand around my hand and pulls me towards his member, wrapping my hand around it.

"Stan, I-"

"Shut up." He mumbles and begins to pump himself with my hand, clumsily, having difficulty controlling another's hand.

Unconsciously, my hand begins to move by itself, stroking, pumping, and twisting my thumb into him. He lets out a long groan and lets his hand fall off of mine, letting me do it alone. His hands rise up to my shoulders and screw his nails into me, pushing me into the wall.

For a second, I wonder where his sudden burst of lust came from, and then my mind wonders off to Wendy and remember what she was wearing. She was wearing a tight skirt that clung to her curves, which ended halfway down her thighs, and I think they shaped her ass a little too clearly; a look that was a little too revealing for her. And then I notice my own clothes. I'm wearing a new pair of jeans that are still a little tight, making me want to tug my back pockets down a bit now and then to stop the fabric from squeezing my butt. When I notice the resemblance, I feel a cold shiver shoot through me and fling my eyes wide open as he suddenly thrusts himself hard into my hold, the action shoving up against my own crouch.

I back up further into the wall and close my eyes, praying for this to be over as quickly as possible. My hand does automatically what it knows that hits Stan's pleasure the hardest, making him groan and shove harder against me. For a second I feel like I'm about to shut down, until I finally feel him release into my hand.

The power in his fingers drop and he curls his arms around my shoulders and leans down into me, panting heavily, trying to calm down. I stay still under his arms, my hand frozen still in the air, covered in semen.

After a long minute or so, he quiets and slides his arms off of me, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. I drop to my knees and instantly dig my dirty hand into the snow, cleaning up as my vision begins to blur.

o

"Oohhhh… You aren't wearing your new jeans!" I hear a long and exaggerated moan behind me and roll my eyes. "I liked those jeans…" Kenny grumbles as he takes a drag of his cigarette and drops himself next to me on the bus stop bench. For the one time in December I choose to take the bus Kenny decides to arrive at the bus stop half an hour early. I don't have anything against Kenny don't get me wrong, I like him a ton more than Cartman, it's just, his flirtations are just too big a meal for me so early in the morning.

"Screw you Kenny" I mumble and dig my face deep into my scarf.

"Kyle, you really need to improve your vocab dude. All you ever talk about is fuck and screw."

"What? You mean when I tell you to fuck off and screw yourself?" I sink myself back deep into the bench, consequently leaning against Kenny, who is sitting so close. He is warm though, I guess.

I gaze into the white atmosphere, the white snow flying and dancing under the street light. It's still dark, but I like it. It's more calm and quiet. But then the silence is disturbed by the sound of a lighter and a fuss of flame. I tilt my head and see Kenny breathe out a ball of smoke out of his new cigarette that melts into the navy sky. It's disturbing the dark, but it's beautiful. The dancing smoke seems to breathe into me and fill in the thing missing inside my stomach.

"Hey Kenny?" I ask subconsciously and he turns to grin at me.

"Mm-hmm?"

"You have a lot sex right?" I see him turn green and cough out a quick agonising smoke.

"Well, Kyle" He shrugs. "In your view, yeah, I think I may have a little more than average." Oh, modest? I couldn't care less. But before I can ask what's really on my mind, his eyes widen in some kind of realisation. "Dude, is this some kind of, 'teaching the virgin what sex is like' crap?" My stomach flinches at the word 'virgin' but I continue to listen. "Because if it is, all I can say is, that you can only learn its amazingness by actual action, which I am more than happy to-"

"Fuck, screw, go blow yourself." I interfere him once I feel like he's going a tat too far, and it shuts him up. "No, what I really want to know is, do you have, um- like, feelings? for the people you sleep with?"

I know it's kind of a silly question, and he looks at me if I'm a retard, but I had to ask him, for some reason. "What? You mean, are you asking me if I actually love the people I screw?" The tone he uses explains everything and I feel my face burn in embarrassment, but I bob my head in a nod anyway. I soon regret it because he bursts into laughter. "Dude! That is so cute!" He chuckles and drops his cigarette into the snow.

"Shut up" I grip my lips and pout in frustration.

"But dude, no. Nuh-uh. Sex and love are completely different things. I like to keep my feelings out of screwing, except for the feeling of pleasure."

"But-" I turn to face him, noticing the desperateness that begins to tint my voice. "Then how about the other people? Haven't any of the people you slept with have feelings towards you?"

He looks at me with curiosity, searching my eyes. "Well, yeah. Some of the girls I can tell want a relationship with me, but nuh. The people I fuck know we won't go into any relationship"

My heart begins to throb, that's what I begin to feel. I imagine the girls falling for Kenny, sleeping with him knowing that they would never be loved back. And there, I see myself, and Stan. Knowing that we are leading to nothing, yet can't help desiring for something more, different.

"Don't you like, ever care for the girls you sleep with?" I ask him, breath shaking, but managing to hide it from the dirty blond.

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle…" He chuckles and swings his arm around my shoulder. "You may think of me as a bad guy if I say this, hell I sometimes think of myself as a bad guy, but- you know the only thing I absolutely care about, is having a good lay."

I freeze still and gape at him, eyes wide. He grins at me, and my mouth withers open in disbelief.

"You know Kenny? Sometimes I just want to push you down and-" He eyes and grin widen with sudden expectance. "Beat the living shit out of you."

I whack his arm off of me after I spit those words at him and walk away, suddenly finding the option to walk to school much more desirable. I want to clasp my hands over my ears to get rid of his voice that keeps echoing in my head. 'Sex and love are completely different things… I only care about a good lay…' But my hand instead clasps at my mouth, holding in a sob of complete and utter defeat.

Hearing Kenny's words, I'm absolutely disgusted, but even more excruciatingly, I feel lost and helpless. I see Kenny as Stan, and his voice the thoughts of the person I hopelessly love. And then I look at myself, trying to hold in everything under my single hand clasped over my mouth.

But then suddenly, I feel something burn inside me. The frozen air attacks my skin but I bite at it, gripping my teeth fiercely. Now I know what I want, more than anything. To end this fucked up relationship with Stan.

o

My heart beats fast and aggressively in my chest, but I keep my steady breaths. Although my whole body is shouting out 'nervous!' I feel strangely calm.

I see Stan leaning against his girlfriend's locker, chuckling softly as he watches Wendy get ready for home. My lungs still twitch when I look at them, but I quickly regain my firm feet and stump up to my best friend's back, tapping his shoulder swiftly.

He turns, still laughing at whatever he was talking to Wendy about, but when he sees me, his smile freezes. Wendy, not seeing Stan's smile drop, waves at me kindly.

"Hey Kyle," She says.

"Hey Wendy," I say quickly, and quickly screw my eyes back on Stan. "Dude, I need to talk to you." My voice unconsciously develops the tone of my emotional state and turns hard and firm.

"What for?" He asks suspiciously, but I ignore his question and slide my eyes back at Wendy.

"You don't mind if I borrow him for a sec, do you Wends?"

She chuckles at her nickname and flicks her hand. "No, sure Kyle, steal him away from me!" She says laughing, and for the first time in my life, I find the sound nice and calming, like bells.

"Thanks," I say and smile. I actually smile at her, sincerely, and in my heart I fill it with apology and remorse. I know that she won't pick up a speck of the meaning behind my smile, but that's okay, she doesn't need to know. It's going to end soon anyway. I tug at Stan's wrist and pull him away from her.

"I'll be heading home Stan! See you Kyle!" She says brightly, I wave my arm into the air for a quick salute and continue to pull Stan.

"Dude, what do you want?" Stan asks with confusion. I can basically see his eyebrows furrow in that Stan-way from his voice, but I don't look at him to confirm my image.

"I need to talk to you-" Is all I mutter as I continue to pull him through the deserted corridors, heading for the boy's bathroom. It's naturally the first place I come up with when I think of a private place.

I stumbles ourselves into the bathroom, almost banging into the door with my fast pace. Stan looks at me with his confused daze when I let him go and lean into the bathroom door until it shuts close securely on us.

"I need to talk to you." I repeat myself, more firmly and clearly this time, as the door clicks shut.

"Well sure Kyle, I mean you dragged me here so- go ahead." I don't think he notices my serious tone of voice; he really is obtuse sometimes. So I walk up to him, right up, but at the same time keep what seems to be a fair distance from him.

"Stan-" I look up into his sapphire eyes, round and letting the light in to make his eyes shine, but I'm confident my own eyes are just as glimmering. I feel like they might be burning fire, cold blue fire, or in my case green. And then I say it to him, clearly, without necessary emotion.

"Huh?" Is what he says, and I let out a short sigh.

"I said, I think we should end this, you know, whatever is going on between us." I say, emotion now stirring in my voice. "I think it would be for the best, you know? If we just stopped now."

My eyes slightly flatter all around the place, until I finish my words and I land back on him. His facial expression doesn't change much, keeping his confused daze and wide sapphire eyes. But I do see the shine in his eyes drop, and his eyebrows tensing in a close furrow and it makes my heart jolt ever so slightly.

"I mean," I continue, "I don't think it's necessary any more. I mean, I think you could do it with Wendy now, if you want, I mean," I bite my lip nervously, wanting to curse at my stammering words. "I think you have- got enough- practice now…" The firmness and calmness in my voice has been completely overtaken by nervousness as I slowly begin to feel him tense in his spot, but other than that, completely unresponsive.

"Yah," I breathe and I nod trying to reassure myself. "So, that's that. Mm-hmm," I shrug and flip my hand up in a small wave. "See ya."

My feet turn swiftly and I turn my back on Stan to head out the bathroom, until I feel a firm grip tug on my arm. I look down at the strong fingers curling into my jacket and I almost flinch.

"Don't you love me?"

The words make my head fling up automatically and I meet his eyes, and almost shudder. The shine of the sapphire has completely disappeared under the shadow of his black fringe and he stares at me with a deep dark ocean blue.

"Huh?" I breathe, not being able to unlock our gaze.

"I said, " He pulls my arm up and makes me stumble a couple steps towards him, my cheek ghosting against his chest. His hand slides from my arm down to my wrist and tugs me up so that our eyes are barely an inch apart. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"I-" But I bite my lip and look down. If I say that I don't, that would be a lie. But if I say I do, it will be the same cycle all over again. So I kill all the words down at the back of my throat, and just say what is necessary. "Stan, let go of me." I say it without looking at him, with a monotone voice and wriggle my hand in his grasp. "Stan, let go!"

"No!" He growls over my plead and glares into my eyes, eyes glimmering again, but now in a different way, a mixture of something familiar and something unfamiliar, something petrifying.

I nearly yelp as he swings me by my wrist, making me tumble into the nearest cubicle. My shins hit the toilet and I buckle down, holding myself on the toilet lid that is luckily pulled down. A second later, before I get to regain my balance on my two feet, Stan marches in, yanking my wrists and pulling me up to face him.

"I'm not letting you go." He hisses, eyes still simmering hot, piercing into me. And now I can say, I am absolutely terrified at the mixture of rage and lust flaming his eyes.

"Stan… I-" I plead, but he silences me by attacking my mouth, violating my mouth with his tongue. My hands are frozen in the air by his firm grip and I feel completely powerless, and I feel excruciatingly mortified with my own vulnerability.

After sucking up all the air out of my lungs, he finally lets my mouth go and I cough out for air. My mind turns completely blank for that one second and my brain doesn't register him releasing one wrist for a second to clasp it with the other, him now holding both my thin wrists in one hand. I missed my one small chance to wriggle out of this situation.

His now freed hand works my jacket off and drops it to the ground before sliding under my shirt, feeling my bare skin until he flings that off as well, the coldness attacking me. I grit my teeth to make no sound, but twist and turn in his grasp until he shoves me against the wall, that is when I begin to knee him.

"Stop that-!" Stan bites and to my surprise, turns me around, making me face the wall. My boiling cheek and bare torso slams against the frozen wall and I whimper at the sudden contact and the pain that jumps at me from Stan's slamming. And now to Stan's delight, I can't knee him anymore, and flinging my feet behind me isn't doing anything.

Skin digging into the wall, I fight against the pain to call to him behind me, "Stan stop! I mean it! I'll scream-"

"Oh, no you won't" He hisses and shoves his free hand into my mouth, fingers pinching my tongue to kill all noises coming out of me. But at least now he doesn't have any free hands, is what I think, until he begins to rub his crouch against me, dry humping me.

For a short moment he grunts and breathes out shivering breaths of pleasure, until it soon becomes not enough.

"Don't make a sound." He whispers dangerously into my ear, like a threat, which instantly freezes my whole body.

His wet fingers slide out of my mouth, strings of saliva dropping everywhere, and he uses that to fiddle the front of my jeans, making my pants drop along my knees. And then I hear his own zipper being pulled down behind me. I want to scream, shout, cry, but I don't, and I don't know why.

I feel his hardened cock grind into my back as he reaches my front and finds my cock, beginning to stroke it. And then, as he continues to stroke and pump me, I really feel tears leak out of my eyes from self-hate. My body begins to respond to Stan's hand without my permission, giving Stan what he wants.

A long, unbearable moment later, I release into his hand with a loud breathily moan, a sound that betrays myself. I breathe heavily into the wall and sob as the sound of liquid hitting skin comes from behind, and I subconsciously analyse the sound. Stan using my cum as lube. Another sob escapes my mouth just before I can bite it down, and he pushes me down, making me bend so that he can get a better access to my entrance.

I widen my eyes and gasp in shock when I feel him push straight into me, without any preparation. My cum spread onto his member is barely enough to be substituted as lube and it tears my skin. I release my jaw to scream in pain and panic but his fingers shoot back into my mouth and tugs onto my tongue once his dick has got its own aim into my body.

He slams into me, hard, his fingernails dig into my wrists and my skin tears against the rough wall. My tongue feels like it's stretching and my hips feel like they're about to dislocate under the forceful slamming.

But even if I resist, even if I scream, even if I feel deep pain what would Stan care? He wouldn't. Because not only does he not love me, he doesn't even care about me. At least, not enough to keep me from falling to pieces under the pain.

Under the excruciating thrusting and feeling him rip his way into me, I remember when we were small, when we loved each other, desired for each other, in identical ways. In the way we desired the summer sun in the middle of winter. In the way we would love the first snow of the year. In the way we desired the bell to ring at the end of school. In the way we loved hot coco and marshmallows in the middle of a snowstorm. Love and desire in its purest and innocent form.

I remember, but it's beginning to drain out of me as the shooting pain grinds forcefully into me, ripping me, tearing me. As the bony fingers tugs on my tongue to kill any unwanted noises leaking out of me. As the skin on my fists burn off from the friction created by the fierce hand pinning my wrists to the wall. As I feel myself shutter to pieces, scattering to the cold floor where it seems as though I would never be able to repair myself, and where I would be lost forever.

His pace quickens and by this time most of my body feels numb, but I can feel myself suck his member in, wrapping around him perfectly. My tear glands have let go sometime under the long and severe violation and my tears are streaming down my cheeks. I can't and have given up trying to keep in the sobs under his tugging of my tongue and there is saliva trolling down my chin and trailing down his hand.

I feel him deep inside me, in every way possible. He digs in as deep as he can, hipbones basically crushing into my back, and pulls back, so close from exiting me. My body relieves and relaxes for the short moments he pulls back, until he grinds into me again, stronger than before.

What's most horrible are the sounds. The slamming and scraping of skin against wall and skin against skin, liquid spattering and drooping, and then the voices, the worst. Filling the white cubicle heated with our body heat, the sound that makes my stomach throb, Stan's loud grunts and groans of pleasure. And then, there are my sobbing and unforgivable breathless moaning that calls out that somewhere inside me, there is pleasure, and most strongly, pain.

"Huh…ngh" I know it's accidental when we slams into that spot inside me that makes me moan, he can't be trying to give me pleasure while all I feel is pain, and the strong desire for this to end.

And then finally, I hear a loud and long moan, and I feel him release inside me, a new warmth spreading inside. I can hear him pant through a smile and he drops his hands and wraps his arms around my shoulders, leaning his tired body on top of my bare back. He stays there for a second with deep content, sinking his body heat into me, with his limp dick still inside me, not letting me release his semen outside.

He finally pulls out after gaining most of his breath back, dragging himself out, letting cum leak and drool out of me. His arms and warmth leave my shoulders and I crash myself onto the icy floor, too exhausted to even shake, but tears continue to flood out of me silently.

"I hate you…"

My shaking breath says over the sound of cum splattering against the floor. And for a second, I even believe my own words, until he leans into my ear and breathes out his voice.

"No you don't…"

And I am lost again, just with that.

He ghosts his lips against my face until they reach my cheek, gently pressing and leaving that one warmth before he exits the cubicle, leaving me curled up on the frozen cubicle floor. Where I'll never be able to repair myself, and where I will be lost forever.

A.N-Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or I'll never write smut ever again from embarrassment.