It started out as an argument, as everything between them does. That's what they were good at - fighting and ripping at each others ego's to see who could hurt or embarrass the other more. Kyle hated these arguments but Cartman, on the other hand, seemed to love them. He was the one who started thee arguments ninety-eight percent of the time; and that was proof enough for Kyle. Usually it was before school, or after school, or when the were hanging out with Stan and Kenny that Cartman would start some meaningless argument or bet between the two of them. But they were almost always started around other people because Cartman loved shoving Kyle down in front of others. Cartman loved to try and belittle him, and Kyle would try to do that same. It was like their own little game of hatred.

This time was different, however...

They were alone.

Kyle could not tell whether being alone with Cartman was better or not.

Cartman had invited him after school to play his per-ordered Modern Warfare game at his house, claiming that "It's the best fucking game ever, and Kenny is too busy being poor!" or something along those lines. Kyle would have usually said no to this, of course, because it was the fatass inviting him and that meant that Cartman was up to something again - and fuck if he would have any part of it. But considering the fact that Kyle's mother would never let Kyle buy violent video games, because they seemingly would "rot his mind and make him more violent in the long run," Kyle didn't want to let this opportunity pass.

Only two plays pass before Cartman tosses his own controller onto the ground with an angry shout, his pudgy cheeks puffing up and reddening. Kyle chuckles lightly at the childish site, setting his own controller in his lap after pausing the game.

"Dude, calm down," he finds himself saying, "it's just a video game."

"It's MY video game," Cartman snorts.

"So?"

Cartman throws his hands up in the air and turns towards Kyle with a look that asks if Kyle is stupid or just trying to piss him off. "So I should be winning!"

Kyle rolls his eyes, scoffing, "That isn't logical."

"It doesn't have to be 'your' logical," Cartman defends. "It's 'my' logical, and that's the best logic."

"Whatever," Kyle sighs, "but if you're going to throw a fit each time you lose, then I'm going to go home."

"No!" Cartman says almost immediately. The word is shouted out so suddenly and suspiciously that Kyle raises a questioning eyebrow at the chubbier male. Cartman ignores his gaze, moving to pick up his fallen controller before nuzzling himself back into the couch next to the red-head."Forget it," he grumbles, "just keep playing. I'm totally going to whoop your ass this time around, Jew."

Ignoring the minor insult thrown his way, Kyle picks up his own controller. "Bring it on, fatass."

After several games, each ending with Kyle as the victor, Cartman pauses the game this time and drops his controller onto the couch next to him. He doesn't speak; merely sits there and glares at the paused screen for a moment, but there is an obvious pout on his lips. Kyle watches him in silence, unsure if it is safe to speak or not. Surely Cartman couldn't be that big of a sore loser...

Just as Kyle begins to reach over, intent on shaking Cartman's shoulder to awake him from whatever trance he has fallen into, Cartman turns towards him wildly, hands flying out to seize Kyle's wrists. Kyle shrieks at the sudden movement, falling backwards when Cartman puts all of his weight onto Kyle's wrists. And with Kyle's wrists now pinned to Cartman' couch, the chubbier male leans over him with a triumphant smile.

"The fuck, Cartman!" Kyle yells, wiggling his fingers and twisting his hands in an attempt to free himself from Cartman's grip. When he tries to kick out at the other male, Cartman presses his torso down onto Kyle. The feeling of Cartman's weight settling between his legs makes Kyle pause in his struggling.

It's awkward and uncomfortable and all so wrong of a feeling.

"Get off of me, you fat bastard," Kyle snaps, glaring Cartman in the eye.

Cartman blue eyes narrow, and he continues to smile down at the male below him. "I win," he whispers.

"...What? Is that what this is about?" Kyle asks, eyebrow furrowing in confusion.

"I'm not a loser, Kyle," Cartman continues, still whispering, "I'm the winner."

"I never said you were a loser!" Kyle growls. "Now get off of me!"

Cartman shakes his head, tsk-ing. "Now, now, Kyle, we both know you were thinking it."

Now Cartman adjusts himself, wiggling his hips a little and dropping his full body weight onto the leaner male beneath him. Not only does Kyle scrunch his nose in disgust because it just felt like Cartman was grinding on him, but he scrunches his nose in pain because of the obscene amount of weight Cartman has just dropped onto his body. Fuck, he was heavy.

"Cartman, your crushing me," Kyle groans.

"Say 'I'm a winner' and I'll get off."

"I'm a winner," Kyle says with a half-smile; but it just earns him another wiggle from Cartman's hips. He feels like he might puke.

"Say 'Cartman is a winner and I will be his slave from now on,'" Cartman orders, more serious this time. He doesn't stop the wiggling of his hips either, much to the red-head's disappointment.

"I'm not going to say something so stupid," Kyle grunts. He starts wiggling his hands again, hoping the grip will let up at some point so he can push this pile of overweight pudding off of him and flee.

"Say it," Cartman pushes, starting to roll his hips in agonizingly slow circles against Kyle now. Kyle has to bite his lips at the sudden sizzle of pleasure that he feels when Cartman rolls his hips a certain way.

"Cartman, seriously, stop," Kyle breaths. He breaks eye contact and stares up at Cartman's ceiling instead, trying to find some interest the off-white color of it to keep his mind from wandering to Cartman's rotating hips.

"You humiliated me in my own game." Cartman has gone back to his whispers now. He leans down when he speaks so Kyle can feel the heat of his breath against his chin.

"It was just a game!"

"And these are just a few simple words, Kyle," Cartman laughs, and when he does, Kyle can feel the laugh vibrate throughout Cartman's body against him. A sudden sharp jerk of Cartman's hips has Kyle gasping, his head falling back against the armrest of the couch.

The room is filled with the sound of small pants as Cartman continues to grind against Kyle ruthlessly, now pushing against the red-head with a force that makes the smaller boys body jerk with every movement. Kyle's head is pressed back against the armrest still, his eyes pinched shut and his lips parted slightly. Cartman's hips thrumming against him almost feels like a burning sensation now, but he guesses that's from his boxers and jeans rubbing against his erection in such a confound space.

"No," he whines, turning his head and pressing his cheek into the armrest.

"Yesss," Cartman hisses against his neck, darting his tongue out afterwards and licking up Kyle's neckline. He stops just under Kyle's jawline and gives the sensitive skin there a rather harsh suck. Kyle shudders against the touch, unintentionally arching up into Cartman's body.

This should feel disgusting. This should feel so fucking wrong - stupid body, stupid hormones; Kyle blames them for this!

Cartman releases one of Kyle's wrist, pushing himself onto his knees and reaching between them to fumble with the button of Kyle's jeans. Curious green eyes slip open when the grinding comes to a halt, and he watches the brunet for a moment before he lifts his now free hand and tries to push it against Cartman's shoulder. Either Cartman doesn't notice the pressure or Kyle's shaking arm isn't doing much to proceed with his escape plan, because Cartman continues to unbutton and unzip the red-head's pants with one hand (looks very difficult, may he add.) Once undone, he uses the same hand to tug down the front of Kyle pants and boxers until he can comfortably pull out the pulsing erection from beneath the clothing.

"You're a bit bigger than I expected," Cartman says with a snicker, and runs his hand down the base of Kyle's pink erection, his thumb tracing one of the veins.

"Cartman, I'm going to fucking kill you," Kyle threatens, sounding breathless. Cartman laughs at this, squeezing Kyle's erection and earning a sharp inhale from the red-head.

"You only have to say one thing and I'll stop," Cartman says, now moving his hand slowly up and down very, very slowly.

"You win!" Kyle shouts almost immediately. "You win, all right?! So get off of me!"

When the hand just speeds up, stroking him faster and harder, Kyle almost chokes. Green eyes shoot open wide as his body trembles from the wave after wave of pleasure coursing through him. The hand on Cartman's shoulder twitches and twists into the larger boys shirt, pulling at the fabric, and the other hand clenches, nails digging into his own palm.

"You- aaanh," is all Kyle can manage through the onslaught of pleasure. He jerks his hips up into Cartman's strokes, thrusting his hips up and literally fucking himself against Cartman's hand.

He barely registers the fact that Cartman leans down and nips at his ear lobe, or the way he kisses his forehead, or even when he releases Kyle's other wrist to run his pudgy fingers under Kyle's green hat, knocking it from his head and onto the floor. His finger curl into Kyle's gorgeous red curls, tugging at them lightly as he continues to pleasure him. All Kyle can think about is his cock and how amazing Cartman's hand feels against it. His body is so hot, and the pressure pooling in his abdomen is all too much - he needs to cum NOW. And yet, even through these various thoughts, the soft thrum of "No, no, no" continues to slip past his lips.

"Car- I-" He grips the couch cushions tightly as a final, ultimate wave of pleasure splashes over him. His body trembles with his release, spraying himself over Cartman's hand and on the front of his shirt. Cartman continues to stroke him slowly throughout his orgasm, riding him through the whole thing; afterwards, he removes himself from Kyle and grabs a few napkins from the coffee table. He throws a few sheets on Kyle's chest before whipping off his hand with the remaining sheets.

Kyle takes a moment to regain his breathing, before he blinks the haze from his eyes and pushes himself into a sitting position. After hurriedly stuffing himself back into his pants, Kyle scowls down at the mess on his shirt, nose wrinkled. He tries his best to whip off the semen with the napkins Cartman had thrown at him.

He was going to kill Cartman.

He was going to come to Cartman's house, in the middle of the night, and slowly torture him.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Cartman laughs. He looks over his shoulder at a pissed and tired Kyle still trying to clean his shirt and smiles widely. "You should come over and play video games more often, Jew."

"Hell fucking no!"

So, this is my first fiction in the South Park division.

I would love to hear what you think.