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Kenny’s earliest memory of Thanksgiving was getting thrashed around in a machine resembling a demented Chuck E. Cheese ticket blaster. In exchange for the purple and yellow bruises littered all over his body, and the subsequent death soon to follow, he earned his family a can of string beans. Which majorly sucked considering he tried his damnedest to go for the canned turkey and gravy. That would have wonderfully complemented the instant rice they had at home.
It was the one holiday Kenny liked the least. Not because of his personal vendetta formed against turkeys, but because it was a day he couldn’t participate in properly. His family would just watch TV drunkenly, eat whatever scraps they’d acquired, and fought. There were times where a younger Kenny would stomp to the other side of the house, close the door to his bedroom, and piss himself laughing at Instagram lives of dysfunctional families throwing plates at each other. Though, it’d only be funny for the first couple of minutes; he could only watch so many livestreams before starting to see himself in whoever was on the receiving end of the flying dishes. He frequented many dinners with the Marshes and the Broflovskis, and he appreciated the food, but his body sitting at their tables felt more like a blunt foreign object than anything perceivably human. Just some lump of flesh begging for a meal fresh from an oven or a stove, hot and warm in his belly. Even at age nine, Kenny McCormick was not – and is not – known for receiving handouts. Not audaciously, at least.
So when he was offered a seat at the Charles family dinner table for the second year in a row, he took up the offer with a nervous lilt in his voice.
What made Kenny stick it out last year was his need for a decent first impression with Leopold’s father's side of his extended adoptive family. Funnily, that was the best year he’d had in comparison to every other TV dinner or intrusion. The idea of having a meal with his fourth grade principal was fucking hilarious.
Peter Charles – cleverly nicknamed PC Principal – was renowned for his aggressive inclusivity and fiery approach to equality. Kenny had a major crush on his wife, who later pushed out five babies, all dawned in sunglasses and hardcore leftism seemingly from birth. They were a strange family, yet oddly one he wouldn’t have been opposed to joining. The universe, for once, decided not to fuck him over, and it allowed his soon-to-be boyfriend to be taken in first. Leopold moved in with the family at around age eleven, when he was going off the deep end and consumed by rage and malice. The point in his life when a lightbulb went off in his head that he needn’t take shit from anyone. And from there, he blossomed.
The family was welcoming and accepting of Butters' inwardly and outwardly soft nature. He could leave the house in soft sweaters and mascara and still be sent off with a hug and a kiss. If he consented to it, of course. Even now, he could safely show up to the holiday celebration in bright fall colors and powder on his nose without worry of a beating.
Kenny and Butters lived separately for the time being. While Butters studied marketing strategy and business analytics at UCLA, he stayed back in Colorado and frequented one, two, three jobs to keep himself and his own family afloat. Two of those jobs let him off for the holiday, yet the beat-up shitty corner store three blocks down from SoDoSoPa needed someone on deck to open. He didn’t bother doing any real work that morning and spent his shift fucking around in the freezer in the back, oddly not cold at all, talking to his boyfriend.
“It’s been a hard week,” Butters says over the phone, “finals are gonna kick my butt when I get back.”
“Aww. It’s nothing you can’t handle, right?” Kenny assures him, though the awkward silence and nervous laughter that followed leaves him believing that he didn’t.
“I’ll do my best,” Butters finally responds, “Me and Pomodoro go together perfectly, I’ll be fine. Definitely when I see you!”
He wasn’t able to come home over the summer since he had cheer camp and a bunch of other business to attend to. They haven’t seen each other since New Year's of last year, and Kenny can’t guarantee that he won’t pounce on him when he sees him.
“Without a doubt. I’ve been missing you like crazy, fuck. It’s like I can’t operate on my usual wavelength when you’re not with me. I’m not becoming codependent, am I?” Kenny eyed several eight packs of coronas stacked in the corner in interest, and he got his answer.
“Kenny,” Leopold lets out one of his cute little giggles, “I’ve been codependent our entire relationship!”
“Ah, I wouldn’t say so. You just have higher love needs, that’s all.”
“What a sweet way to put it, Ken…but you know I’d be a mess without you.”
“Oh, I’d be a crackhead for sure. A crackwhore, specifically.”
“Yeah, yeah…hold on a sec, darlin’...we’re touching down in an hour! I’ll be at the airport soon!”
The closest airport in Colorado from South Park was in Denver. Almost two hours out. His shift ended in twenty minutes. As soon as his little love’s precious voice excitedly went up an octave, he was already out the door. He set a twenty-minute timer on his phone to clock out officially when it went off. It was still dark out, and one of his headlights was broken. Still, he burned up the highway, going ten miles above the limit, and skillfully swerved and switched through lanes to race his way to the front. There may have been other families on their way to pick up their own family members, but one thing was for certain: Kenny was going to get there first.
Just as he expected, crowds everywhere blocked his line of vision. Though not many people had a white blond bleach and tone, impossibly fair skin, and short stature. His baby would stick out among thousands.
It took him ten minutes to find Butters near the terminal, looking around like a neglected penguin in the cold and eating some peanuts. As soon as his wandering eyes found Kenny, his face brightened and Kenny could swear it literally started to glow. He ran at a rather scary pace towards Butters, and he matched his speed the best he could. The people around them looked reasonably frightened at the scene, wondering if there was an active threat behind Kenny and contemplating whether or not to take off with him, but they seemed to loosen up once they realized it was an adorable twink he was running towards. They both met in the middle, bodies colliding in the most electric way. Kenny was so blissful and out of his mind that he almost broke Butters' luggage handle, toppling the large bag over and making a loud smacking sound on the tiled floor. Butters was lifted off the ground by the small of his back in a fit of giggles, twirled around and kissed like an absolute princess. A few tears gathered at the edges of his eyes, and Kenny quickly kissed them away.
“I’m right here,” he comforted, “Welcome home, short stop.”
They kissed again, a little hungrily this time, and Butters had to pull away before they started making out. Although Kenny was down for the action then and there, Butters was not. “We have so much to talk about,” Butters said, taking Kenny’s hand and pulling him towards the exit.
And that they did, chatting endlessly about college hijinks and work escapades. Butters was taking sixteen credit hours, and all of them were in person and disgustingly early in the morning. He lamented for a while on a group project due the second he flew back to campus, taking his time in describing the flaws in each and every one of his partners; excluding a girl named Sage who, conveniently, was an apprentice for LA’s finest designers. She was a senior, and Butters described her as a natural leader and a bit of a control freak. He got a job on campus as well, a front desk assistant for the campus food pantry, and had little tales of precious families and hilarious clinic patients with stories to tell for miles. Kenny feels bad that he doesn’t have much to talk about now since he tells him so much on the phone. They’d stay up for hours talking about the peculiar podunks not uncommon to South Park’s usual array of freaks and hicks that would stumble in at ungodly hours in the morning for cigarettes and bags of chips. Maybe a coffee, if Kenny’s shift was a graveyard.
Still, he wished that something exciting would happen to him so he could tell Butters and hear his sweet laugh, the one he seemingly reserved only for Kenny.
The first thing Kenny did when they made it to the Charles family residence was sleep. For a while.
Butters stayed downstairs and excitedly chatted with his mother while she stuffed the turkey and he helped with the buttered mashed potatoes and the slew of pies and sweet delicacies. His father entertained Kenny for a good twenty minutes before he excused himself upstairs. Truly, he intended to stick around and catch up on family happenings and how the Turkey Trot went earlier that morning, but his eyelids betrayed him and he seriously needed to shut them before his entire body shut down first.
He felt a warm body press up against him in his sleep and smiled. A tuft of white blond hair fell on the back of his neck like snow, and he felt truly at home then.
“You smell good,” Butters purrs, nuzzling further into his back.
“I smell like work and death.” Kenny mutters tiredly in the pillow. It isn’t a complete lie, he did die that week. He got run over by a Sara Lee shipment truck.
“Not true,” Butters asserts, sitting up to look over at Kenny’s face. “You smell like baby powder and cigarettes.”
“I didn’t realize you liked that smell. Cigarettes.”
“I don’t, but it reminds me of you. And what’s not to love about that?”
Kenny fully turns around then and draws his love closer by his waist, breathes in his scent, greedy for it. Butters instinctively puts his arms around his neck, wraps his left leg around Kenny’s thigh entangling them together without missing a beat, and Kenny’s relieved that this isn’t something they have to relearn after eight months apart.
They sat there like that for around a half hour, not talking. Just softly breathing, satisfied with each other’s presence. They’d have hushed and secretive nights like this in elementary school when Butters' birth family was still in the picture, when Butters didn’t have a Peter Charles or a Strong Woman to cuddle for comfort. And for safety. Neither of them questioned it at the time. It’s funny how perfectly Butters fit into his arms, and even funnier how they’ve maintained that perfection for twelve years. What wasn’t funny was the raging hard-on growing in Kenny’s pants. It only started to grow when he realized that Butters would shift his hips every five-or-so minutes.
“Babe,” Kenny calls out, and his voice sounds kind of strained like there was a belt around his neck. That just makes him harder. “You good?”
“Mhmn,” Butters hums, eyes still shut and breathing softer than a cloud. “Why?”
“Just. You’re moving a lot.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Butters shifts one more time just to find a good position to rest in. His dick was going to explode.
Unsurprisingly, beating off to the risque photos Butters would send him throughout the week and talking him through it on FaceTime when he would desperately call with two fingers already in his ass wasn’t enough. He needed to be inside him. Sexually, sure, and maybe even literally. Like, he needed to wear his skin atop his own.
He took one of his fingers and pulled Butters' chin up to look at his sweet face. His eyes looked unfocused, and there was a line of drool coming from his lip despite not having slept that deeply. He looked wildly fuckable.
They kissed even more hungrily than they did at the airport. Kenny was shoving his tongue down Butters' poor throat, and his body gave him license to do so without his brain quite following. It was instinctual. Butters desperately tried to keep up, still a little sleepy. They slowly turned over in bed and Kenny was soon on top of Butters, open to take him over fully and thoroughly.
“I missed you,” Kenny whispered between kisses. It wasn’t very clear, but he could faintly make out Butters saying “missed you too,” while he nipped at his neck. One of his favorite things to witness was how red and irritated Butters' skin would get whenever he kissed and bit it, like red wine dripping on fresh dinner rolls.
“I need you.”
“Now?” Butters says this more clearly. Although they had a long way to go on the pumpkin pie, the raspberry cheese danishes needed to be taken out of the oven in ten minutes.
“Not necessarily. Just in general. I need you.”
“I need you, too, sweetie.” The way Butters whispers it sounds a lot less sexually driven, like it was a matter of fact rather than a declaration.
“God, I’m stiff.”
“Darlin’, do you need a massage? I think we have enough time to get all those knots out before dinner.”
“Not what I meant.” He gestures down to his crotch, and Butters soon gets the message, shifting his eyes away kind of shyly. Though he’s kidding himself if he thinks Kenny didn’t catch a glimmer of interest in those eyes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah ‘oh.’”
There’s a very faint pinging sound akin to an oven downstairs. He overshot the time left to take the danishes out. Terribly.
“I should go see about those. What time is it, actually?”
He spends an adorable amount of time patting around the mattress looking for his phone. Kenny chuckles and helps him out after a moment, finding it first. “It’s three-thirty. Dinner’s at four, right?”
“Four-thirty, if need be, yeah…Do you need me to…” He does a little jerk off motion with his hand, and Kenny swears he could come.
“I’ll be fine. You have work to do. Besides,” Kenny leans in close to Butters' ear, kissing the tip where he likes it best, “I’ll have my way later, right?”
Like he was under some sort of trance, Butters nodded. They shared one last kiss before Butters shimmied his way out from under Kenny’s thighs, slipping out of the room rigidly.
Kenny caught a glimpse of the bulge under his comfy sweatpants.
Rubbing one out in his fourth grade principal’s bathroom while watching a one-minute fifteen second clip of Butters in his dorm room fucking himself on a clear dildo wasn’t on his to-do list today, truthfully. If anything, it sounded like something his fourth grade self would die laughing over.
Yet he ended up standing over the toilet anyway, dick cleverly aimed so that his spill would shoot directly into the bowl. He had most of his dress shirt — PC Principal’s dress sweater, actually, one of the ones from his younger years — bunched up under his chin, not wanting to grind his teeth on anything that belonged to his father-in-law. Anything that wasn’t Leopold. He had one shitty knock-off AirPod in his right ear, Butters' cute moans and whines on full blast. He meticulously edged his cock and saved his nut for the part of the video where he goes “Kenny, Kenny, nghn…miss you…need that big dick in this pussy.” He’s listened to this part of the video so many times that he’d mouth the words whenever they came up. It only took him three minutes to get himself all the way off, his cumshot stronger than he anticipated and hitting the back of the toilet seat. Which impressed him, considering that the Charles’ were out of hand lotion and he had to wank off with only his spit, semi-dry. They thankfully weren’t out of hand soap, and he thoroughly washed them before fixing the wrinkles out of the front of his shirt and taking a second to look at himself.
For one, he looked well rested. The purple sitting under his eyes vanished entirely, and his skin didn’t have that weird grey undertone it’d take on after a particularly bad death. His hair, tied back in a ponytail, was at a decent length and groomed nicely. As was his goatee, trimmed to look like delicate strips of gold on his chin.
His outfit was fucking sweet, too, brown quarter zip and orange pants both belonging to his father-in-law.
He made his way downstairs after gathering himself, and there he met Butters, who had also changed in the span of seven minutes and was talking enthusiastically and animatedly to three of the PC Babies. He had a turtleneck sweater that fit snuggly on his waist and jeans that fit snuggly on his ass. Kenny contemplates turning around and locking himself back in the bathroom for an additional three minutes.
Guests were arriving swiftly. First, there was Butters' new grandmother, who was significantly less bitchy and all the more sweeter. She greeted Kenny at the door with a kiss on the cheek and three butterscotch candies.
Strong’s brother came too — his name was Respect — along with his husband and their adopted daughter. She commented on Kenny’s long hair, saying that it was pretty and asking him if she could braid it later.
Almost every white suburban family has a rich aunt, and she tagged along too, adorned in an outfit that altogether couldn’t have been less than a thousand dollars not including tax. Butters seemed to take to her the best out of everyone in the family.
It was an intimate dinner, seemingly small if you didn’t count the six children running around and taking up half of the house. Butters was in the kitchen, washing a few leftover dishes before having to set the table. Kenny sauntered over to him after ogling him a bit, undressing Butters with his eyes and imagining himself nose deep in that pert little bubbly butt.
“Food smells good,” Kenny chimed, “you smell better.”
“It’s a new fragrance I picked up at Macy’s! You like it?”
“I love it,” Kenny breathed in the perfume, but that wasn’t what he was talking about. He was referring to Butters’ natural smell: honey and fresh laundry.
“Did you meet Respect yet?” Butters asked. “And his husband? They’re real sweet people. I mentioned that they buy me fabrics and needle threaders every Christmas.”
“They’re cool. Their daughter is Karen’s splitting image, too, it’s fucking uncanny.”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
“She asked to braid my hair.”
“Are you gonna let her?”
“Why not? It’s the holidays.”
Butters smiled sweetly and trained his focus back to the dishes, clearly missing a spot on the tongs he was holding. Kenny moved impossibly closer as he watched his baby clean it with his tongue poking out.
“That’ll be us one day. Happily married. Can’t wait.”
“Me neither, Ken…”
“...When I put my babies in you.”
Butters turned the faucet off. “Excuse me?”
“Y’know, when I get you pregnant. And you have all five of my kids. Karlee, Kris, Katelyn, Klarissa, and Kyle Jr.”
“Oh, hush!” He started laughing and swatted Kenny’s arm, gathering that he meant what he said as a joke. Kenny was not joking. Not entirely. He’ll find some way to get that man pregnant. And they’ll have two kids, not five.
If there was one thing Kenny could say about dinner, it’s that the Woman family had gifted hands when it came to cooking. Every bite put Kenny in a trance, and he finished his plate by the time it was his turn to say what he was thankful for around the table. With a mouthful of mashed potatoes, he expressed that he was mostly grateful for this. For a family that treated him like he was worth something after being treated like a byproduct of poverty and carelessness. A table to eat at, a man to love gracefully and gently. For just a moment, while he professed his gratitudes, he imagined Butters walking towards him in all white, flowers littered in his hair, and a loving supportive family surrounding them in decorative chairs. There were tears collecting in his eyes and a lump in his throat as he swallowed the last remnants of gravy and starch.
Conversations consisted mostly of social rights issues, foreseeable to fucking anyone. Grandma was lowkey based as fuck, discussing the distressing state of the lower class and the workplace discrimination against women taking place at the Piggly Wiggly uptown. She made her stance known all while picking at her cranberry sauce and gumming that shit down with her dentures sitting comfortably on the table on a napkin. It was the most punk shit he’d seen all week.
Kenny was sitting down with his third plate by the time everyone had finished their first. He expected an onslaught of disappointment with a hint of disgust, but his in-laws actually encouraged it and the extended family paid it no mind. They mentioned something about needing to feed as many empty bellies as they can in lieu of the concerning turn for the worst community benefits and food stamps were taking, and Kenny could not be paid to regurgitate a word of what they’re saying when a huge slab of honey baked ham was in his mouth. Butters, too, seemed blissfully unaware as he talked to Respect’s daughter about colors. Kenny made it his mission to keep one hand on Butters’ thigh under the table. He’d squeeze it every now and again, and he’d get a pleasantly adorable reaction out of him each time; either a cute gasp or a subtle glance in Kenny’s direction, or eyebrows tightly knit and impossibly plump lips in a petulant pout.
"So," Respect spoke up boisterously, cutting into his piece of turkey. "What do you do for work, son?"
Kenny was anticipating this question. That was usually a question only strangers used on him to analyze income, and from that he knows Respect isn't from here. Everyone in South Park knows that he's piss poor despite receiving three paychecks. Two of those were biweekly.
"I mostly work at the paper mill on the outskirts of town, mostly do tech stuff there. I'm also a janitor at City Wok and a cashier at Fill-N-Go, the gas station over there by SoDoSoPa." He doesn't want to say the shithole a quarter of a mile from his house, but he technically isn't lying.
"Woah!" Respect does sound surprised, but not in an out of touch, privileged sort of way. He sounds like he's impressed.
"Our Kenneth's a busy one! How many hours do you work in a week again, Kenny?" Strong Woman said.
"Uh, depends on the work week. Sixty on average."
The folks around the table look like they had just witnessed an orangutan do a kickflip on a skateboard. Never once do they doubt Kenny or claim he's bluffing. They're welcoming and encouraging in a way Kenny hasn't encountered yet. He remembers PC's side of the family also being supportive last year, but most of the buzz came from debating political shit and mostly everyone at the table forgot that Kenny even worked more than one job. Mrs. Broflovski and Sharon would usually coax him into putting in his two-weeks notice at one job and taking it easy with the other two, but the Womans seem to cheer him on, mentioning something about the economy and having three payrolls could potentially trump the system. He felt appreciated, for once. Butters had a smile that touches each corner of his face as he listened to his family give their praises, and he's non-surprisingly the proudest one there.
"Yeah. Kenny does good work, and he's committed to it, too." Kenny wouldn't say all that. "He's a natural provider, which is good. Not to imply that Leopold isn't capable of providing for himself, but it's good that there's ambition alive." PC chimes in while giving Kenny two pats on the back. Grandma's staring at him like she wants to pinch Kenny's cheeks and give him flatteries on what a nice and stable young man he is. He has half a mind to take her up on that offer.
Then the wine came out, oddly after most of the food was eaten. Usually, with the McCormick family, the wine was already sitting on a counter or comfortably in someone’s hand. And it wasn’t always wine, just on years with a good overall net income. Any other time, it was scotch or cheap seltzers. He wondered if they chose to drink after dinner to guarantee no one will get too fucked up. Suddenly, he sort of missed home.
Still, he drank in earnest and made clear exactly what kind of family he came from. Though he’d technically been drinking since four in the morning that day and only completely sobered up after the power nap he took upstairs. The rich auntie’s lipstick stained the rim of her glass and reminded him of Mrs. Broflovski.
Butters looked absolutely engulfed in his own little world next to him. All red faced and giggling at absolute nonsense, he couldn’t seem to get enough of a grip to serve the danishes he worked so hard on. His wine was served in a discreet cup with a neon colored sleeve to dress it; everyone else thought he was drinking cranberry juice. The tip of his nose was a delicate shade of pink, and suddenly his childhood principal’s pants felt all too tight.
It was nearing ten o’clock when everyone called it a night. Respect was the good sport that resisted a drink and drove his family home, not without gathering his loud, boisterous husband who melted into his arms like warm sludge whenever he tried to guide him outside of the door. Their daughter waved Kenny goodbye on her way out, and Kenny waved back by taking the braid she worked on and swinging it around, making her laugh. PC begrudgingly sent his babies off with their aunt for the night, and the kids didn’t seem to mind since it meant they’d be getting spoiled out of their minds for Black Friday tomorrow morning. Kenny has to take a moment to rejoice in the fucking odds that all five of his new old man’s birth children were out of the house and away from the absolute storm that was going to occur in Leopold’s childhood bedroom.
They both stumbled in, for different reasons seemingly. Butters was sobering up slightly while still maintaining a little bit of giddy; Kenny was just fighting for his life trying to conceal his boner from his new family.
“Whew! I gotta pee, I think. Or, wait, maybe not. I can't tell.”
“You sure you not just aroused?”
Butters laughed. “Ken, gosh!”
“I must be a comedian tonight.” He sat on the opposite side of the bed, crossing his arms and staring at the wall in front of him. He can’t see it for sure, but Butters is looking at him completely confused.
“What do you mean, hun?”
“You’re acting like I’m not 100% dead serious about everything I say.” He suddenly stands up and walks towards him slowly. Butters seemed to get the message.
“Kenny. You can’t get me pregnant.”
“I can. I will. Tonight, if you’ll let me.” He runs a hand up Butters’ small waist, slightly pulling him in to press his chest up against Kenny’s. Butters looked bewildered, offended, and intrigued.
“I wasn’t kiddin’, either. I can feel it now. It’s really piss.”
“Uh huh. Go take care of that, baby, and then I’ll have you.”
He sent Butters out to the bathroom red in the face and all embarrassed. Which was reasonable considering it wasn’t just them in the house for once. It’d be their first time fucking in close proximity to their parents, under their own roof. Kenny’s done plenty of nefarious shit significantly worse than that, but this did feel a little weird. Not even because they’re his in-laws now — literally everyone has done it a thousand times. It’s weird because they were both at one point his administrators.
Butters returns soon enough, and when he does he’s met with a shirtless Kenny who’s absolutely starving. When he crawls on the bed towards him and reaches a hand out to touch his face, Kenny can tell that he had just washed his hands and didn’t bother to dry them with a towel.
“You’re so warm,” Butters quips, “is that all of you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you hot anywhere other than your face? We could turn up the AC for a second, if that’s what you want.”
Kenny rolled his eyes and brought his hand down to forcefully pin Butters on his back. The impact was light and fluffy under the huge baby blue comforter and multiple stuffed animal friends.
“You know what I want.”
He kisses him, then, fervently. Not even yielding for a second to allow Butters some time to catch his breath. His tongue wastes no time in breaching the inside of his mouth, wriggling about to fully and wholly claim his throat. Butters was already whining incessantly, grinding himself up against his raging boner to find some semblance of relief. Kenny appreciates the urgency and is thrilled to note that Butters understands what he’s been feeling for the past almost-year
“God, you taste so sweet. I have the sweetest baby ever.” He felt a little silly after saying this out loud and got back to work on Butters’ mouth, a little afraid of what this lust-enduced high would cause him to say or do.
He tried holding off on the groping so Butters could feel properly dismantled and stripped of his eleven-month streak of not getting any play, but his hands lifted the bottom half of Butters’ body and found their way down his back and into his pants, fondling the two ass cheeks that weren’t able to breathe underneath his tight pants. It was like he was trying to tease him all night. He used the leverage both of his hands had on Butters’ pelvis and pushed him upwards even more to satisfy his own clothed cock. They both sigh.
Butters seemed a little startled by this, and Kenny immediately backs off. He fluttered his eyes open – God, he had extensions that day, the ones that accentuate his big doe eyes. They looked askance and a little distressed.
“Now, I like kissing you to death and touching all up on you, but all the way?”
“You know it.”
“Kenny, my parents are a room over.”
“Do I look like I give a shit?”
Butters presses his lips together in a thin line cause he knows the answer very good and fucking well.
“It’s been three-hundred and thirty days since I last plunged my dick into that hole, and you expect me to get all prudent over a little company? The only thing that can stop me now is if you tell me no.”
There was a beat of silence between them. Butters bites his bottom lip and grinds against Kenny again.
“Atta boy,” Kenny taunts, “I’m assuming that’s not a no?”
“I just…won’t be loud. And you gotta promise to not be loud either, mister.”
“As if that would be a problem for me. You’re the one who screams like a chick when we bang.”
Butters giggles and punches his shoulder. Though, it isn’t cute like usual. It’s his horny laugh. The one that’s seductive and desperate for a pounding.
Kenny leans back in for another kiss. Butters was unbuttoning Kenny’s cowboy belt at the same time, and he rewards his obedience with a harsh kiss on his neck in the spot that drives him crazy. Kenny lifts Butters’ shirt to expose his chest and spoils his chest with kisses. Butters makes satisfied noises above him, and they’re surprisingly hushed like he promised.
Those kisses trail down his stomach and over his cock. It’s when he’s pulling Butters' pants off with his teeth that the sex clouds in his head clear and he realizes the fallacy.
“Babe, did you pack lube?” Kenny asks. Butters looks around the room in thought for a second before his face contorted to regret and slight anger.
“Shit.” He curses, dramatically flinging both of his forearms over his eyes. “I forgot it.”
“You have some here, don’t you?”
“I threw it away cause I ran out.”
“Motherfucker.”
“Hang on,” Butters sits up in bed,” I think I have a solution. I’ll be back.”
He throws on a discarded oversized UCLA sweatshirt that cleverly covered his boner and slips out of the room. Kenny decided to be proactive and get rid of his pants, which were also not his. And he remembers this once they’re off. Swiftly, he picked up the quarter zip and the khakis and folded them neatly. They found a place on Butters’ work desk, next to his water bottle.
Butters eventually returns. With fucking olive oil. “I have olive oil,” he announces.
“Leopold.” Kenny said. “You cannot be serious.”
“Do you wanna fuck me or not? I’ll pick up some more lube tomorrow morning, but we’re working with this tonight.”
“I don’t…can you do that?”
“I looked it up real quick. We can, but we have to do it raw. That isn’t an issue cause we only do it that way.”
Kenny has his reservations, but he puts them away. His cock was still hard, and now that his pants were out of the picture and his boxers were at his ankles his dick was standing at attention.
“Alright. Close your door. I’m naked.”
“Yeah, you are.”
Butters shuts the door behind him and drops to his knees in front of Kenny. “I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a taste, baby.” He wasted no time in wrapping those pretty lips around the tip of his cock. Kenny slaps his hand around his mouth, and even that doesn't fully mute the shocked groan that leaps from his throat. He threw his head back like he had a nosebleed and enjoyed every crevice of Butters’ warm mouth.
He stops him before he even thinks he’s about to come, and Butters pouts. Like his dick was a treat, and he just meanly took it away.
“I can’t fuck you the way I want to if my dick is half empty. Get up here. And lose the pants, too.”
Butters obeys him without a second word. Before either of them knew it, they were both naked, hard, and sandwiched between a bottle of extra virgin olive oil.
They kiss as Butters hands him the bottle and Kenny pops the top open. Butters pulled away and got on all fours. Kenny spread some of the oil onto his fingers, satisfied with how warm it had been after standing next to hot stovetops and warm foil pans. Two of his fingers went to circle Butters’ entrance, causing him to shiver and Kenny to curse under his breath. The oil somehow ended up all over his hand, and he started coating Butters’ entire ass with it, like he was painting a canvas. It looked like the honey baked ham he devoured when he was done. And when he slapped it, it sounded like cranberry sauce.
Just one slap had Butters biting his pillow, and Kenny didn’t miss how his dick twitched, too. Kenny’s own dick also twitched in interest.
He sunk a finger into Butters' hole, and he’s bewildered by how easily it slips in. He’s just as tight as he remembered, and Kenny almost cried from excitement. He holds back his tears as he lovingly fucked him with one finger. Butters was mostly quiet, but only because his teeth were grinding down on the edge of his pillow. Kenny challenged him and added another, then another, and Kenny was three fingers deep. The little sounds Butters made got louder, but just loud enough for him to hear. He sounded so sweet, and a little like he was already ruined.
Kenny didn’t notice how low and harmonious his panting was as he slid his fingers in and out of Butters’ ass, but it was there. And his dick was so heavy it could fall off, and he could not stop thinking about that honey baked ham.
It was so sweet and savory, so tender that he barely chewed before swallowing. Or maybe that was just his desperation, his hunger. Kenny hadn't tasted a ham like that in years — it wasn't like Mrs. Broflovski was gonna bust out the crockpot and pineapple slices or anything, and God bless Sharon, she dresses the best turkey and bakes the best casseroles, but ham is not her forte. He gives his props to Butters' crazy rich aunt for bringing it. Hers is like no other. The glaze, while wildly delicious, stuck to his fingers as he ate it. He'd lick them off and go in for a second bite with his fork, and the meat was so fucking tender he could barely keep it on his utensil. That's what Butters' ass did most of the time, fell apart. Regardless of the amount of pressure or poking, it would always melt in his hands and create a coating so sweet Kenny has to do more than just lick it off of his fingers.
Something possesses him to lean in and lick a clean stripe along Butters' crack and needy hole while his fingers were still in there. He gasps rather loudly when he registers what could possibly be this wet and this warm on his butt.
"Kenny!" Butters' head was lifted from the pillow and turned at an awkward angle so that he could watch him. "T-That's, Oh God. That feels so good...but are you sure you wanna do... that tonight?"
"Have you shit today?"
Butters looks thoroughly embarrassed. "N-No."
"Did you shower?"
"Yeah."
"That’s good enough for me."
Kenny went back to work on his ass, slowly pulling his fingers out and replacing them with his tongue. It breached the rim of his hole easily, and his ass tasted a little like roasted potatoes. Butters was a whining mess in front of him, and he'd tell him to quiet down if not for the fact that his noises only made his tip sticky. Kenny was a self-proclaimed champion ass-eater, and Butters had no issue with defending his title. Granted, he'd only done it three times, only eating him out when he's particularly horny and craving it. Butters loved it, obviously, and it was something of a surprise for him because of how rarely he does it. He reached up to grab Butters' dick and start tugging at it while his tongue swirled around inside and outside of him. He called this move "The Milkmaid." Butters almost completely lost it, letting his head fall into the pillow again and moaning into it. Kenny's nose was covered in his own spit and olive oil, and for only a second he wonders exactly how they got here.
Butters' main tell for when he's about to come is this: his legs would start to shake, the left one more intensely than the right, and he'd start this high-pitched panting like he was fifty yards from the finish line in a marathon. It was devastating that Kenny knew his body so well, because now he has to unfortunately take that pleasure away. The same way he couldn't come just yet, Butters couldn't come either.
He does let out a sulky whine at the loss of contact, but Kenny knows it's for his own good. "You think your parents are asleep by now?" Kenny asks, already lining himself up at Butters' hole.
"Geez, don't go talkin' about my parents while you're like this."
"I'm only asking cause I need to hear how you sound while I ram into you. It's my favorite part, you know that."
Butters rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but Kenny can tell just how eager and ready he is with the way he's pushing his ass up against his cock and sinking his chest further into the mattress. "If you love my noises that much, you'll have to fuck ‘em outta me." He wiggles his hips challengingly, and Kenny rolls his eyes back. He smacks his asscheek again, more forcefully this time.
"Oh, please. That's light work."
He sunk his cock all the way into Butters, and they both moan lowly. Kenny thought he might come just from this, from sheathing himself in Butters' tight heat. They stay still like that for a couple of moments, and Kenny leans down to lovingly kiss down Butters' shoulder blades. They softly whispered sweet nothings and declarations of how dearly they'd missed one another. Butters started to cry at one point, and Kenny kissed his tears away again. Though he was a little disappointed that Butters couldn't quite angle his head to kiss his own watery eyes.
Kenny did eventually move, and though Butter's hole squeezed him like always and was properly tight, he was able to move in and out of his ass like a knife slicing through soft butter and gliding across a dinner roll. He's ridiculously wet, and warm, and the perfect amount of slippery, and Kenny has to mentally call himself an idiot for not thinking of using olive oil sooner. Butters sounded beautiful underneath him.
He picked up speed after a while of enjoying the slip-and-slide engulfing his cock. The friction made both of their bodies scorching hot; Kenny wished he took Butters up on his offer about the AC. They both were a complete mess. Butters reached one hand behind himself to hold on to one of the wrists Kenny was using to hold his hips in place, squeezing it like he just couldn't take any more. Kenny's brow was already sweaty, and some of the strands of hair in his braid came loose and stuck to his forehead. Butters' moans sounded like a song Kenny would listen to on repeat. They were melodic and fairly high-pitched.
"Kenny, Kenny, Kenny..." He chanted his name like he was trying to summon him. Every time he said it, Kenny inched a little closer.
"Yeah, there you go. Let me know who's fucking you like this."
"Kenny...Kenny...."
"Uh huh, like that."
Kenny rewarded him by giving him one last kiss, taking his hands off of his hips and onto both of Butters' wrists, and skillfully pounding into Leo's rear with reckless abandon while holding him down. Butters cried out, his face pathetically mushing into his pillow. Kenny loved fucking him raw and nasty while Butters was helpless to do a thing about it. The room smelled like olives and freshly baked bread with just a little bit of cum thrown into the mix, but he mostly smelled Butters' new fragrance atop his natural scent and it drove him wild. Butters kept that ass poked out the whole time, hopeful for a good, thorough fuck. At one point, Butters sharply inhaled a gasp, and Kenny knew he'd hit his spot.
"Like that, like that, uhn. There, please. Please."
"Take that fucking dick. You're so good." He kissed the back of his neck. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this, don't you? None of those fucking — ah — football player dicks on scholarship can fuck this pussy like I can. You know that?"
"Kenny..." That seems to be the only thing Butters can say besides moans and commands of how he wants to be fucked. One of them had called Butters' ass a pussy while they were fucking one time — probably Butters — and they both kind of rolled with it. Because that's exactly what his hole was. Just Kenny's tight pussy to fill up and fuck into when he's ready.
Kenny shamefully felt close, so fucking pissed that he couldn't keep going, but he then hears Butters' breathing kick up again. He smiles and drives his hips desperately quickly into him. One of his hands slipped under Butters' body and tugged on his cock, urging him closer.
"You close, baby? Please, let me come in you. Let me fill you up. Please, I need it."
"Yes. Yes, come in me, please. Stuff me like a – ah! Don't stop! Don't stop! Coming-"
Butters lets out a girly sort-of shout that made him sound like a video whore whenever he came. His dick shot ropes of cum on his thigh and on the bed. Kenny does what he says and keeps fucking into him, needing to release everything pent-up since the ball dropped last year. And that he does, groaning and muffling himself by biting Butters shoulder as he unloaded all of his love into Butter's ass.
Kenny collapsed on his lover's back, both of their bodies enveloped in warm sweat. Kenny was breathing heavily, and he knows it was directly into Butters' ear, but he didn't seem to care. He actually invited it, flipping himself over underneath Kenny's leg-lock and drawing him closer by further entwining their hands, which were now both slippery and slimy from either transferred olive oil or spunk. The smell wasn't ideal now that it was a bit closer to Kenny's nose, and it unfortunately started to overtake Butters' oddly pleasant sweat smell. Kenny's nose scrunched up like a bunny, and Butters must have seen it because he started to laugh so sweetly. Kenny just wants to kiss his face to death.
He leans in to do just that and Butters just pulls away and laughs even harder. "What? What happened?" Kenny sounds deeply lost and a little scared. Butters just smiles and shakes his head.
"There's no way in hell you're kissin' me after eating my ass!"
"You said you cleaned."
"Not internally! C'mon, mister, let's get cleaned up.
The bathroom – the same one he jerked off in unfortunately – was even closer to the Charles' private bedroom. Kenny does feel a little shame as he stepped into the washroom again, having to clean up his own cum in it a second time that day. Butters ran them a bath at first, but Kenny insisted that they shower, imagining sitting in a catastrophe of water and bubbles and oil and not liking it one bit. They stepped in after checking the water, and they spent a few moments standing there, Kenny behind Butters with his arms wrapped around his waist. He rested his chin on top of his cute blond hair, which only got wetter as the water hit it.
Butters grabbed a rag and some soap and handed it off to Kenny who lovingly washed him from head to toe. They did this often, and Kenny's glad he remembers the protocol for romantic showering. He spent a notable amount of time and attention on Butters' ass, prompting him to push the spunk out of his hole so he could clean it. He spread his cheeks open as wide as they'd go to let a little of the shower water inside. They swapped turns once Butters was clean, and he also took his time in covering Kenny's hot body in suds and fragrances. Butters had turned around and looked Kenny lovingly in the eyes as he worked. He still wouldn't trust him for any kisses on the mouth, but the way his eyes swelled with love as he gave a few playful tugs at his cock to clean it was worth a thousand kisses.
They finished up and both brushed their teeth; Butters had asked him to brush twice. When Kenny was done, smiling at himself in the mirror and showing off his gap and missing molar, Butters kissed him then. It was soft and sweet and minty, all of the things that were right and pure and good about Leopold.
To say they both crashed on the bed afterwards was an understatement; they collapsed. His body gave way to its signals of absolute exhaustion, and he nearly passes out the moment his head hits the pillow. Butters cuddles up next to him, now wearing another oversized UCLA hoodie – one that indicates his status on the cheer team – and rests his head on his chest.
"Earlier," Kenny pipes up, his voice deep and calm "you were gonna say something before you came and cut yourself off. I want you to finish-"
"Oh, God." Butters covered half of his face with a hand. "You remembered?"
"Sure! Only because I was so curious."
"I think I was about to say "Stuff me like a turkey."
They both fall out laughing, turning out to be even louder than when they were actually fucking. "No fucking way! And you were dead serious?"
"I was! I meant that!"
Kenny smiles and peppers kisses all over his face and lips. This is what he missed most of all, being with Butters and having giggly moments like this that had him questioning whether or not they had grown up at all. The sex was fire, without a doubt, but the closeness and intimacy of sharing smiles, that's what kept Kenny going. Even once they died down, quieting to soft breaths and contented mewls as they slowly exchanged kisses and kitten licks, this is what he lives for. He swears he can feel both of their heartbeats syncing up to pulse rhythmically.
What they learned from spending three semesters apart was that long distance for prolonged periods of time wasn't an option anymore. Even if they were both busy, either scrambling to make ends meet or scrambling to get an exam paper written, they'd make time for each other. Because clearly, they both can't stand it when the other is away. And the reunion after being separated for so long? Catastrophic. In a great way.
"I missed you," Kenny whispers. He kisses Butters' forehead so tenderly, transmitting all of his love into his mind.
"How many times have we both said that to each other today?"
"Not enough," Kenny pushes most of his hair out of his eyes so he can view the faint scar on his left eye. It's healed perfectly, yet the hole left in his heart carrying the weight of what happened that day in the snow still hasn't closed up. It's wide open. His heart bleeds for Leopold still.
"I need to end every day like this. I can't sleep without you anymore. I may get a few winks, but I sleep best when you hold me, you know?"
"I'm so in love with you," Kenny said, holding him tighter and kissing the top of his head again, hoping that this is helping, that his dear Leopold could get some well-needed rest with him here to ensure his comfort. His safety.
"What do you got goin' on tomorrow?"
"Not much. M' gonna spend the day with you. Probably go over to Stan's and watch the Iron Bowl with him and Kyle."
"Can I tag along?"
"Of course you can, my love."
It didn't take very long for Butters to fall asleep. His fairy lights above both of their heads illuminated his resting face, and he looked like an angel. He craved this every day, getting to feel his touch, hear his soft little puffs of breath, wake up next to his gorgeous face. He was serious about the wedding thing. At first, he thought he wanted to elope. Then he had that vision at the table, and played three rounds of blackjack with his dad in law and Respect's husband and kicked their asses all three times, and he realized that maybe a wedding wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It’d definitely make Butters happy.
Work was hard, life was harder, and dying was next to impossible to bear. He lived in a cycle of just that since January, occasionally smoking or eating a Big Mac somewhere in between. When he had time. Cigarettes and McDonald's didn't compare to the power of a warm hug and even warmer kisses. Not when they were from Leopold. Kenny was thankful for that, for him.
And he was thankful for that honey baked ham.