Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s like pure honey: sweet and thick, syrupy to an almost unbearable level. But Kenny has always had a high tolerance for sweets, though, in this case, it wasn’t even necessary. It’s like in his golden summer dreams: the mother star shining in his eyes—a blinding sky blue on one side and, on the other, a cold, monochromatic marble — while incandescent lava bubbles in his volcano mouth, burning Kenny with its scorching fire and stealing his breath. His scent is as sweet as his kiss, caramelized apple that McCormick devours with pleasure, the aroma of the fruit clinging to his skin.

Kenny clings to his hair, pure gold residing in every blond strand, slipping through his calloused fingers. He pulls it gently, bringing him closer, sinking even deeper into the warm sweetness of his mouth. His lips are like silk cushions: soft and luxurious, easy to touch and glide over their smooth surface, a delicate coolness that turns scorching the longer they stay in contact, pressing incessantly. With his other hand, he explores the warm body, slipping between the clear rivers along the banks of his hair, feeling the perfect imperfections of his skin, every pore being touched and explored by his curious palm that caresses the body and all its lines.

It’s not his imagination, nor his dreams, but perhaps paradise. The clouds, too close to the merciless sun, burn his skin and make them even warmer, even though they were in the midst of South Park’s harsh winter. Yet, in that room and at that moment, it was the height of summer, its blazing peak scorching both teenagers. The air around them becomes warm and thin, forcing them to separate momentarily to catch their breath before diving back into the searing lava bubbling in their mouths. Their foreheads touch, feverish, and tired sighs meet, synchronized.

— Mysterion… — Butters whispers close to his mouth, eyes still closed from the moment. — What… got into you… today? — the question is asked with difficulty, his breathing uneven.

Ah, yes. Kenny had forgotten that it was his alter ego who met Leo at night; the make-out session had made him momentarily forget this problem. To be honest with himself, being like this with Butters made him forget space, time, and even his own existence. He completely lost track of everything, including the notion of losing, becoming a voluntary prisoner in the lips and body of his lover.

The vigilante sighed deeply, holding the back of Leo’s neck firmly, taking advantage of the absence of his gloves to feel the silky texture of his hair.

— Just… missed you…— he murmured, his mind returning to the bitter memory of that morning, when Butters had been complimented and flirted with by one of the girls from another class.

— Are you sure? You seem… intense. — Curious eyes stared at him, though clouded by the ecstasy of their kisses.

— Do you want me to stop? — Mysterion teased, a sly smile curving his lips.

— That’s not what I said.

A small kiss touched Kenny’s lips, threatening to deepen but slowly pulling away. The vigilante chased the kiss like a traveler chasing an oasis to quench his thirst. Butters lay down, guiding the hand that was on his neck to rest on his cheek, sprinkling small kisses on Kenny’s palm. He stretches his arms and wraps them around the hero’s neck.

Mysterion leaned over him, supporting himself on his forearm, his hand still pressed against his beloved’s face, so as not to completely give in to the weight of the moment. Although, metaphorically, he had already fallen for Butters a long time ago.

— And what do you mean by that? — the vigilante moved even closer, caressing Leo’s cheek while, with his other hand, he stroked the exposed neck and collarbone, tracing the tendons and bones with his fingers.

Butters closed his eyes, savoring the affection.

— Usually, you come later, but today you came twenty minutes early, — he pointed out in a whisper.

— You count the minutes until you see me? How cute, Leo, — Kenny teased in his deep voice, a mischievous laugh escaping his lips. Butters smiled, embarrassed, his cheeks turning even redder.

— Of course. You’re one of my favorite people in this world, — Leo confessed, laughing softly as he ran his hands over the hero’s covered hair, not removing the hood. — And you just came in kissing me, without the usual ‘how are you’ or ‘how was your day.’ Not that I mind, it just caught me off guard.

Mysterion raised an eyebrow, the easy, teasing smile still on his face.

— ‘One of’? I thought I was the only favorite around here.

Though the sentence sounded accusatory, Butters noticed the playful tone and laughed a little more.

— Well, yes, you are. And also the most jealous person I’ve ever met.

— Do you know other people?

Butters laughed and pulled him into a kiss, his fingers sinking into Kenny’s damp hair. He smiled during the contact, the vigilante feeling the corners of his mouth lift in pure joy. It was impossible not to mirror the gesture.

Mysterion hurriedly removed his boots and moved over Leo’s body. As he shifted from one side of the bed to the other, his beloved undid the knot of the cape with a simple tug, letting it fall onto the bedroom carpet. The hero kept the hood and mask on as he lay down beside Butters, not breaking the searing kiss they shared.

Leo pulled away again, the smile still on his face as he looked at the boy in front of him. He ran his thumb over the exposed skin of the hero’s face, a loving gaze reflected in the sky blue and smooth marble of his eyes. Kenny grabbed his waist and pulled him closer, their chests almost completely touching, while the lower parts of their bodies maintained constant contact.

— And so, who are these people, huh? — a gentle caress runs along Leo’s hip bone. — I want to know who my competition is.

— You don’t have any competition, you fool. — Butters pinches his cheek tenderly, laughing softly. — They’re just people I care about a lot. That’s all.

— Right. Competition. Got it. — Kenny teases, earning a light slap on the arm. — So, who are they?

He rolls his eyes at the hero but answers anyway.

— It’s not a very long list, I should say. You can count them on one hand.

— That’s good. Less work for me. — Mysterion laughs.

— You better stop with the jokes, Myst, or I’ll have to call Professor Chaos to deal with you. — Leo threatens, with a mischievous look and a sly smile on his face.

— Oh no. Anything but the fearless Professor Chaos and his merciless punishments. — Kenny mocks, well aware that the villain’s so-called “punishments” were nothing more than more kisses and cuddles between the two.

— Consider yourself warned, mister. — Butters pokes the tip of his nose before gently caressing his cheek again. — But back to it, since you’re so curious... The first person, without a doubt, is you.

— Oh my God! Really?! What a surprise! I never imagined this could be possible! — the vigilante exclaims in fake surprise, still whispering so as not to wake his lover’s parents or reveal his identity.

— Oh, really? You didn’t know? — Leo joins in the joke. — Want to know why?

— Why?

— Because you’re the person I think about all the time — a quick, precise peck is planted on Mysterion’s lips. — from dawn until I go to sleep. You’re like a dream to me. I like you, I like being with you. You’re my best friend and also my love. No one else could take that place on the podium but you. So, rest easy, my dear. You’re the only one who lives in my thoughts and the number one in my life. — he whispers in secret, his tone filled with affection, admiration, and love. Pure honey dripping from his lips.

Kenny feels the warmth rise from his chest to his cheeks, an unexpected wave of emotion taking over his body. His eyes flutter in surprise, the air seems to momentarily escape his lungs, and his mouth opens slightly. The declaration catches him off guard. He feels flattered, a childlike joy filling his chest, speeding up his heart in a comforting way, warming him completely.

But then, a sharp pain pierces the same place where the joy resides. The realization that those words weren’t for Kenny, but for Mysterion, hits him suddenly. A knot begins to form in his throat, and he feels tears threatening to well up in his eyes, the result of a painful mix of happiness and sadness. He’s hearing what he’s always wanted, but in the wrong context, under an identity that isn’t his.

The hero leans in to kiss him, trying to drown the sorrow in Leo’s gentle lips. The gesture is reciprocated with affection, one hand remaining on his cheek while the other rests on his chest. It’s a tender and warm kiss, sweet as always — exactly what he needs in that moment of bitterness. Their tongues meet in a calm dance, without sensuality, just love in its purest form. They stay like this for a while, long enough for Kenny to regain control of his emotions.

— I feel the same for you, my love. — his voice is so low that, if they weren’t so close, Butters would never hear it. — I love you so much. Sometimes I think I could die of love for you. — he confesses.

Leo’s soft, loving gaze is his answer, accompanied by the constant caress on his cheek. Kenny feels torn apart receiving such attention. He doesn’t believe he deserves this love, knowing it’s not meant for him, but for the persona he created — Mysterion. A figure designed to protect and inspire, now being used to fulfill personal desires, something Kenny begins to see as a betrayal of Leo’s trust. He tries to push the thoughts away, diving back into the present moment, into his temporary paradise.

— Well, I didn’t expect your list to be so short. It ended quickly. — he forces a playful smile, hiding the true feelings bubbling inside him.

Butters gives him another playful slap on the arm, more like a caress than an actual smack.

— It’s not over yet, to your dismay. — the hand on his cheek moves up to Kenny’s hair, the strands being gently caressed by Leo’s light fingers. — There’s one more person.

— Who’s going to be on this month’s missing person’s poster? — Mysterion teases, with his typical playful tone.

— Kenny. — Leo responds, the sweet smile on his face the same one he offers every morning in the school hallways.

Kenny’s body freezes completely, as if he’d been hit by a high-voltage shock. A sudden chill rises from his stomach to his chest and arms, spreading through his entire body like an inescapable plague. He feels his heart stop for a full second, while his lungs fail to perform the simple act of breathing. Time seems to freeze. A violent shiver runs down his spine, and he tries, with superhuman effort, to control the tremor threatening to betray him, tightening his grip on Leo’s waist even more.

The effort to keep his face impassive is monumental, but he realizes too late that his eyes had widened and his breathing is visibly restrained. Kenny swallows hard, fighting the lump in his throat as he moistens his suddenly dry, desert-like lips.

— K-Kenny McCormick? — he stammers before he can stop himself, his voice slipping into its natural tone for a brief moment.

— Yeah. Him. — Leo’s smile widens, his eyes looking past Mysterion, as if he could see his friend right there beside him. — He’s one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.

Kenny clears his throat, hurriedly adopting Mysterion’s deep, gruff tone again.

— Really? — he asks, trying to sound disinterested, though his tone carries a hint of insecurity that escapes without permission. — A McCormick being cool? Sounds more like an urban legend.

— Don’t talk like that. Kenny’s a sweetheart! — Leo scolds him with a frown, the annoyance clear in his voice. — You shouldn’t judge someone by appearances. I thought you knew that.

The reprimand catches Mysterion off guard, as he’s never been on the receiving end of something like this from Leo.

— Yeah, true. You’re right. Sorry. — the hero responds quickly, intensifying the caress on his waist in a gesture of redemption.

— It’s okay, my love. Just… don’t talk about him like that. — the scolding gives way to tenderness as Leo’s fingers return to playing with his locks. His contemplative gaze rests on some invisible point on Kenny’s face, perhaps a freckle or an imaginary line. — He’s really important… I really like him. The only person, besides you, who has any kind of dignity in this town.

— People don’t think that way — he points out. — They say he’s the biggest player in town, a no-strings-attached kind of guy who goes after any woman who gives him the time of day. — Mysterion reads Butters’ expressions carefully, every wrinkle on his face being observed.

— It might be true that he’s like that, as they say… — Butters’ voice is soft, but Kenny notices the sadness, as old as it is familiar, shining in his eyes. — But that doesn’t erase the fact that he’s an amazing, hardworking, and selfless person.

Kenny had never heard anyone speak so highly of him. Usually, people focused on the stories — true or not — of his romantic encounters. The town knew him as “South Park’s love machine,” sometimes calling him “the new Chef,” or even comparing him to Cartman’s mom, famous for the “Crack Whores” magazine. The rumors of his conquests with women were endless, and he knew he didn’t do much to deny them. He didn’t know how the reputation started, but he didn’t deny that he took advantage of it.

Butters’ smile, once so full of love and tenderness, gradually becomes melancholic. His gaze loses its sparkle, even more distant and lost, the memory of his friend clearly troubling him. Kenny feels a tightness in his chest as he notices the change, desperately wishing he could do something to ease that pain.

He leans in slowly, pressing his lips to Butters’ neck, scattering soft kisses across his skin. The other’s light laughter fills the room, a delicate vibration that Kenny feels against his own lips. He snuggles closer, until their bodies are completely pressed together.

— If he’s so great, why do you seem so upset? — Kenny murmurs against the other’s collarbone, alternating his words with wet kisses.

Leo takes a while to respond, completely silent. Mysterion only feels his locks being pulled tighter, hands unconsciously gripping him like a lifeline. The hero’s arms, now wrapped around Butters’ body, loosen slightly, just enough to see his beloved’s face. He’s staring at a fixed point on the other side of the room, completely silent, his eyes downcast in a familiar melancholy.

Gently, the hero runs his thumb between Butters’ eyebrows, following the line of his nose until it reaches his lips, which he softly caresses. Only then does Butters look at him again, smiling faintly to himself, his eyes scanning the hero’s face, his gaze tinged with a silent love that briefly replaces the sadness. He smiles slightly, as if remembering that Mysterion is there, by his side.

Pushing himself up, Kenny moves even closer to Butters, embracing him. They exchange breaths, the hero delicately caressing his beloved’s ribs.

— It’s… it’s nothing. — Butters finally says, though his voice betrays the lie.

Kenny really doesn’t want to delve into the obvious sadness Leo feels when remembering his civilian identity. But his curiosity wins out. After all, it’s about him — the reason the love of his life feels so lost, so melancholic just at the mention of his name. Kenny feels even worse, imagining what he might have done to cause such a reaction in Butters. When he opens his eyes, he sees the scar on his left eye, where he lost his vision. His heart tightens, guessing what it might mean.

— Did he do something to you? — Mysterion lightly runs his thumb over the scar that cuts across Leo’s eye, starting at the eyebrow and ending at the top of his cheekbone. — Did he… hurt you?

— It’s not that… it’s just… — Leo hesitates, looking away, embarrassed.

Kenny interrupts.

— Leo, you don’t have to feel ashamed around me. I’m here for you, to help, no matter what the problem is. — Mysterion runs his hand through the golden strands of his hair, shining under the silvery moonlight. — No judgments.

— I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or insecure.

This only increases Mysterion’s curiosity, as he becomes more and more interested in Butters’ reasons. The affection between them grows, just to prove to his beloved that he’s in a safe place.

— I promise I won’t.

— And I don’t want you to do anything to him. — Kenny raises an eyebrow, silently asking for clarification. Butters bites his lips, apprehensive. — You know… like hurt him.

— Is he some kind of criminal or a complete jerk?

— No.

— Then don’t worry. Nothing will happen. — Kenny assures him, kissing his cheek softly. — So tell me, what’s making you sad?

Leo looks away again, his cheeks warming as he nervously plays with Kenny’s hair. His breathing, once calm, now feels stuck in his lungs, as if he’s stopped breathing for a moment. The hero watches him gather courage little by little, sighing deeply, still fiddling with the strands of the vigilante’s hair. Mysterion is momentarily distracted by Butters’ lips, bitten and moistened by nervousness. He wants to lean in and kiss him, but holds back, watching the other’s lips with desire — the gentle tugs on his scalp only intensifying the urge.

— I was in love with Kenny. — Leo finally says, quickly and a little too loudly for the silent night. — I was in love with him, but I always knew it would never be possible to be with him. — his confession comes out breathless, and he stares at Mysterion with wide eyes.

Perhaps it was the distraction with Butters’ lips, or the impact of the confession Kenny had always hoped to hear, but he doesn’t react. His body freezes, a chill even more intense than before, while his palms sweat with the adrenaline that seems to have been suddenly released. The room becomes suffocating, an unbearable heat taking over every part of his body, while a cold shiver runs up his spine. He feels cold and hot at the same time, and his mouth goes dry. A dry knot slides down his throat, and he finally looks at Leo.

Butters still stares at him, the expectation clear in his eyes, with shyness and fear evident in the lines of his face. There’s something vulnerable and childlike in his gaze, like a child confessing their mischief and waiting for punishment. Mysterion tries to calm his own expression, but everything feels even harder when his mind is in panic. He breathes slowly, careful not to blurt everything out at once, afraid of scaring Butters and making him run away.

His dry lips are moistened with his tongue, and he takes a moment to respond. His fingers still caress the scar on Leo’s face, now with more intention. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with poorly chosen words, but the weight in his chest forces him to act.

— You… — he starts, but his voice falters. He clears his throat and tries again, calmer. — You were in love with him?

Leo nods, shyly, his hands still playing with Mysterion’s blond strands, a nervous habit that gives him away.

— Yes, I was. But I never had the courage to say it. I always thought it wouldn’t make sense. He’s so… — Butters pauses, trying to find the words. — Kenny always seemed so out of reach, like he lived in a completely different world from mine. — he sighs, defeated. — So I gave up.

The confession still echoes in his mind, leaving him a little dazed by the situation but completely immersed in his beloved’s words. Kenny knows that his reputation might have taken away Butters’ courage, but he feels there’s something more.

Although Leo has always been a peaceful and, at times, submissive person, he has his moments of strength and assertiveness. He’s always fought for what he believes in, chasing after what he wants until he achieves his goal or is completely blocked. But before giving up, he turns everything upside down, insisting until there’s no way out, knowing when it’s time to let go. Something, however, stopped him from the start, making him believe that Kenny — always a complete fool in love for Butters — would reject him.

— Why? — Mysterion asks, stroking Leo’s eyebrows and smoothing the worry lines on his face. — What made you believe that?

— First: he’s straight. — Leo begins, letting his hand slide slowly through Kenny’s hair until it rests on his neck, where his fingers gently massage the tense muscles. — Everyone knows that. It’s common knowledge that he has a list of the girls he’s been with. I’ve seen it myself, and it’s pretty long. — he sighs, his eyes fixed on the fingers lazily tracing patterns on Mysterion’s skin. — At the few parties I went to, he and Clyde always competed to see who could hook up with more girls.

Well, that was true. Kenny still had the list Leo mentioned and the money from the party bets, tucked away in a drawer — the list for nostalgia, and the money as savings. But it had been over five years since he even thought about it. He stopped when he realized how childish and toxic it was, exposing the girls to ridicule and tarnishing their reputations.

As for the bets? Those were abandoned too. After his countless victories and no losses, the other guys gave up on competing, knowing that if they participated, it would be a lost cause. Kenny knew that, in the past, he felt on top of the world with all that attention, but now, he looked back on that phase with a mix of shame and skepticism.

— Wow… What a jerk.

— Yeah. I know. — Leo agrees, sighing again.

— But what does that have to do with him being straight? — Mysterion asked, raising an eyebrow.

— Well, everything! — Leo gives him an incredulous look, as if the question were absurd. — Everything revolved around girls. Big boobs here, giant vaginas there. “Wow, did you see how hot Charlotte looks today?”, “Yeah, dude, my dream is to drown in those boobs.” For God’s sake, give me a break!

His tone carries a clear and irritated jealousy, something Kenny picks up on immediately. Leo scrunches up his face, clearly displeased with the memories, and Mysterion can’t hold back a smile. Butters’ jealous scowl has something irresistibly cute about it.

Kenny wonders how he never noticed it before. Maybe he was just distracted, or maybe Leo was really good at hiding his discontent. But now it’s as clear as day: he’s jealous of those girls. The vigilante chuckles softly, pulling Leo closer to him.

— Wow. I didn’t know my Leo was so jealous. — he teases, still laughing lightly.

— It’s not jealousy. It’s just that, when that becomes the only topic of every conversation, it gets unbearable. — Leo retorts, but his cheeks betray his embarrassment with a deep red. Unable to hold the gaze, he focuses on Mysterion’s neck, his fingers still nervously wandering there.

— Okay, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night. — the teasing tone in Mysterion’s voice is evident, his smile audible, making Butters blush even more.

Without saying a word, Leo leans in, hiding his face against the hero’s collarbone. His lips brush Kenny’s neck in a shy kiss, his nose pressed against the nape, while his hands rest awkwardly on the vigilante’s defined chest. Embarrassment spills over in every movement, but Kenny can only find himself even more enchanted by him.

— But then — Kenny breaks the silence, returning to the topic with a voice still lighthearted —, you still haven’t explained this whole “straight” thing to me. Just because he talked about or went out with girls doesn’t necessarily mean that’s all he was into.

— Right. And Cartman’s the new Nelson Mandela. — Leo shoots back, sarcastic, rolling his eyes.

Kenny lets out a laugh, giving him a light slap on the arm.

— I’m being serious. What if he dated guys on the down-low and just didn’t talk about it out of fear of judgment?

But the hypothesis wasn’t true. Kenny had never had much interest in other guys, though he had tried it once. It wasn’t memorable. Maybe it was the context, the circumstances, or even the person, but the experience was awkward and uncomfortable, not sparking any desire in him to repeat it. Kenny was straightforward: if there was attraction, he wanted it and went for it. That peculiar night, however, something was missing. It was clumsy, forced, and completely unnatural.

Still, he knew why he had tried. At the time, Kenny was consumed by a desperate need to have Butters. At first, it was just a physical desire, something raw and urgent. But over time, that desire evolved, becoming something much deeper, purely emotional. The vigilante knows that, of all his experiences and doubts, one thing was certain: what he feels for him is like nothing he has ever felt.

— I doubt it. Kenny’s not the type to care about judgment, especially not for something he likes. — Leo states with conviction. — He’d make sure everyone knew about it.

Kenny raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the response. Butters couldn’t be more right. If McCormick actually liked guys, the whole world would know by now. That left him slightly impressed. How did Leo manage to pick up on his mannerisms and the way he thought so well?

— You seem to know him pretty well. — Mysterion comments, trying to sound casual.

— Well, when you’ve liked someone for seven years, you inevitably start to understand some of their behaviors. — Leo sighs, his voice heavy with emotional exhaustion.

The answer was a punch to Kenny’s gut. Without realizing it, he tightens his grip on Leo, almost crushing him in a sudden hug. His heart races, the beats so strong he’s sure Butters can feel them. His breath catches, his chest tightens, and he struggles to process the revelation as his throat seems to close up.

— Seven years?! — he exclaims, the surprise slipping out before he can control it. For a moment, his voice sounded more natural, almost like Kenny’s. He quickly clears his throat, deepening his tone again. — That’s… a long time…

— Yeah… — Leo responds quietly, almost shyly.

The silence that follows is thick, almost tangible. Both are lost in their own thoughts, each absorbing the implications of what had just been said.

Kenny feels like a complete idiot. Seven years. Seven years that Butters liked him, and he never noticed. It was surreal. He always prided himself on being observant, on nothing escaping his radar. But that supposed skill now felt like a big bluff. He spent years by Leo’s side, oblivious to everything — every glance, every gesture, every word that could have betrayed his feelings. And now, all he could think was: how did he not notice?

— And he… — Mysterion whispers, his voice heavy with hesitation, as if stepping on thin ice about to crack. — He never noticed?

Leo pulls away just enough to create space between them, his hands beginning to trace random shapes on the hero’s chest and arms. Spirals, stars, almost distracted movements. Still shy, he avoids looking directly at Mysterion, focusing on his own fingers and the invisible drawings he’s making.

— No. — he slides his palm over the hero’s chest, erasing the imaginary scribbles. — I don’t know if he didn’t notice or just… decided to ignore it. — his hands lightly grip the firm flesh under the uniform, fingers and palms pressing gently. — Probably the second option. I was kind of obvious.

Was he? Kenny really doesn’t remember. Sure, over the past seven years, he and Butters interacted frequently, but nothing Leo did seemed to raise any flags about his intentions. Kenny never noticed anything out of the ordinary in his friend’s behavior, likely interpreting any gesture as mere kindness or his usual friendly demeanor. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. Now, he wonders what Leo’s attempts — clearly failed — to impress or even seduce him might have been.

— Really? — Mysterion asks, surprised, as he watches Leo absentmindedly fiddle with his chest. — Is he really that blind? Maybe you were just too subtle, huh?

— I followed tips from some girls who dated him and even looked stuff up online, but… it didn’t work. — Butters’ voice is low and embarrassed, and he seems to pour his shyness into the movement of his hands, which caress the hero affectionately. — I followed everything to the letter, but it had no effect. I think he just ignored it to avoid having to reject me and make things awkward between us.

That sounds like something Kenny would do. In fact, he’s doing it now. For the past three years, he’s been trying to muster the courage to confess to Butters, but his cowardice keeps him from acting. He fears rejection and ruining the perfect friendship they have. That’s why Mysterion is here, in an unhealthy and extremely unethical way of having what he’s longed for so desperately. These five months of intensely living his double life as Kenny, the boy adored by women, and Mysterion, the nighttime vigilante, are a way to delay the inevitable.

Kenny definitely isn’t proud of it. He feels like he’s taking advantage of his hero persona to win something he desperately wants. It feels like something Cartman would do — and, in fact, something Cartman did do when he was Coon, albeit in different contexts. Kenny wants to stop. He wants to end this lie he’s created. A few months ago, he avoided Leo’s house for two whole weeks, trying to break off the confusing relationship he’d built. But he couldn’t. Things had already gone too far.

He still vividly remembers the day he found Butters crying behind the school. During those two weeks of distance, Kenny noticed that Leo was withering, day by day. He no longer smiled, no longer joked, no longer talked to anyone. He became a shadow of his former self, isolated and withdrawn. Even though shaken, Kenny stuck to his decision not to return, believing it was the best choice for both of them — no matter how painful it was.

But everything fell apart when he saw him sitting on the snow-covered ground, shivering from the cold and sobbing alone.

Kenny had approached, touching the icy fabric of Butters’ jacket. Even with his thick gloves, he could feel the cold seeping through. Leo startled at his presence, hurriedly wiping his tears and straightening his posture. But he didn’t say anything, didn’t look at him, just stared melancholically at the white ground. It was clear he was trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back his tears.

Not knowing what to say, Kenny sat down beside him, hesitantly rubbing Leo’s back in an attempt to offer some comfort. His desire was to grab him and never let go, begging for forgiveness for the pain he was causing. But he held back.

Butters remained silent, the weight of sadness visible in every fiber of his being. Then, unexpectedly, he gave in. He buried his face in Kenny’s parka and hugged him tightly, crying openly into his neck.

Kenny hugged him back with the same intensity, his eyes burning, holding back the tears threatening to fall. The lump in his throat was almost unbearable as he heard Butters murmur between sobs:

— What did I do wrong?

That phrase echoed in Kenny’s mind, hammering his conscience. He knew he couldn’t keep going like this. The days without Leo had been torment for him too, bringing forth a sense of withdrawal comparable to the time he went without heroin. Aggressiveness, anxiety, insomnia, melancholy… Everything seemed to crumble without Leo around.

The day after the encounter at school, Mysterion returned to Butters’ window, unable to stay away. Since then, he’s been showing up regularly, playing the role of the nighttime protector. To justify his occasional absences — due to his deaths — he made up another lie, saying he might miss a few days because of his workload as a hero. A flimsy excuse, but enough to sustain the fictional world he’d created.

But deep down, Kenny knows: he can’t keep this up forever.

— What did you do? Now I’m curious. — the hero asks, pushing the feeling away.

— Ah… well… nothing too crazy… — he squeezes the chest in his hand, enjoying its softness. — I… complimented him on everything, even the simplest things. They were all very genuine, but before I didn’t do it out of fear of judgment from the other guys. But he always smiled and thanked me, and even blushed. It was cute. — a happy smile forms on his face, clearly reminiscing about his friend.

Mysterion feels his face heat up again. He remembers the compliments well, but at the time, he never saw them as anything deeper. He always thought they were just Leo being kind, especially when they were made away from others. Now, however, everything takes on a new context.

Butters really was persistent. Even in front of their friends, he’d let slip small comments, like a shy “that was amazing” or “you’re really good at that,” which often left Kenny embarrassed by the attention. Now, looking back, Mysterion realizes how much those moments carried a deeper meaning. Yes, Leo was flirting — and Kenny, blind as he was, never noticed.

— And also… — he continues, his hands squeezing the soft chest even tighter, focused on how the flesh molds under the pressure. — I made a lot of physical contact, you know? I always tried to get closer, touch him in some way. And we exchanged a lot of looks, but he didn’t notice that either. He probably thought it was all accidental or… I don’t know…

Kenny remembers the casual touches: a shoulder bumping into his, a hand that lingered a little too long on his arm or his back. He remembers the looks, those extra seconds when Butters’ eyes seemed fixed on him, as if they wanted to say something his mouth couldn’t.

At the time, McCormick had ignored it all. Not because he didn’t like Butters, but because he never thought something so genuine and affectionate could be more than friendship. Now, dressed as Mysterion and hearing the truth from Leo directly, it’s impossible not to feel a mix of guilt, surprise, and even a hint of happiness.

— You know — Mysterion finally responds, trying to mask the tone of insecurity in his voice —, maybe he didn’t notice because… well, sometimes people only see what they want to see.

Leo pauses for a moment, his fingers still gently squeezing the hero. He keeps staring at his hand, avoiding Mysterion’s penetrating gaze.

— Maybe… — he murmurs. — But I think, deep down, he just… didn’t feel the same way.

The hero wants to open his mouth, say something to correct that, but the words get stuck. He knows he can’t just confess now, not as Mysterion. That would make everything even more complicated.

Instead, he places a hand over Leo’s, which is still pressed against his chest.

— Sometimes, people need a little push to understand what they really feel — he says softly, hoping that somehow these words can give Leo the hope he deserves.

— Maybe… — Leo says, thoughtful. — But it doesn’t matter anymore. Things have changed, and so has my focus.

Butters looks at him, his large bicolored eyes capturing the soft glow of the moon that filters through the room, illuminating the white furniture and bringing life to the space around them. His gaze is intense, almost analytical, as if searching for hidden answers in every detail of Mysterion.

— Changed? — McCormick’s voice is low, full of tenderness. — What’s on your mind now?

— Just one person… — suddenly, his tone shifts, a barely concealed sensuality dripping from his lips. — And the things we could do…

He blinks slowly, as if savoring the provocation, leaving Kenny frozen under the weight of that gaze. The hero feels the click in his mind, the realization finally dawning. He’s seen that expression before, hasn’t he? The glint in his eyes, the tension in his lips… The same one Butters used to give Kenny. And now, realizing it too late, he almost feels like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

The shift in the atmosphere is abrupt, going from something calm to something charged with sensuality. The air between them becomes thick, hot, a game unfolding without words. Kenny feels the boiling frog theory happening to him — trapped in the hot water, not realizing he’s already burning.

But deep down, he doesn’t want to escape.

The passion burns so intensely in Leo’s eyes that Mysterion feels he could be consumed by those flames — and he wouldn’t even mind. In fact, he wants it. He wants to kiss him, melt him in his arms, make him discover the pleasures and intensity of a burning love, teaching him the beauty of Eros’ passion and its delights.

But he holds back, letting himself stay there, motionless, being studied. His face burns as if a hot iron were touching his skin, exposed to the weight of that analytical, passionate, and desire-filled gaze. It’s uncomfortable and embarrassing, but at the same time, comforting and alluring. For the first time, Kenny feels seen — truly seen — by someone.

And being seen like this, in this way, by Leo, is a sensation he’s not sure he can handle.

Mysterion smiles, accepting the provocation.

— Things? — he murmurs, his voice laden with a seductive tone. He leans in slowly, his eyes flickering between Leo’s and his slightly parted lips. His breath touches the other’s skin, warm, inviting. — What kind of things?

Leo smiles, the mischievous glint in his eyes hypnotizing Kenny. His eyelashes flutter provocatively, his pink, moist lips forming a half-smile, every detail of him seems carefully sculpted for temptation. The hero feels the tension burning on his skin, making him forget the conversation they were having, the growing desire to give in to the forbidden spell Leo is casting over him. But he resists.

— Just things. — Butters replies, his voice husky and full of mystery.

— Don’t want to share? — Kenny whispers, leaning on his forearm as he leans even closer over the other. — Maybe I can help with those "things," if it’s a problem.

Leo sinks into the mattress, allowing Mysterion to completely surround him. The hero’s arms are on either side of his face, his legs firmly around Butters’ body, leaving him no escape. But it’s Leo himself who decides to test the limits, sliding his hands to the hero’s waist and pulling him down, against his body.

— I don’t know… — he murmurs, his tone full of amusement. — I’ve always solved these problems and these "things" on my own, and I’ve never been dissatisfied. — his eyes shine with the certainty of his power over Kenny. — Are you sure you can give me what I’m looking for?

The provocation is blatant in every detail: in the half-closed gaze, in the tongue that slowly slides over his lips, making them even more tempting. They’re red and soft, and Kenny feels the weight of desire settling deep in his chest. For the first time, he understands the curse of the apple of Eden — who, in their right mind, could resist something like this? It makes no sense. And there it is, his downfall, calling to him, seducing him, patiently waiting for him to give in, to bite, to taste the forbidden fruit and willingly accept his fate.

— I can give you the world, if you want… — Kenny’s breath falters when he feels the slow movement of Butters’ hips against his, a provocative touch, a dangerous game. — But be careful what you wish for… you might regret it…

— Leave that judgment to me. — Butters’ voice slides through the air, husky, sweet, full of intention. — But I’m not sure if I’ll tell you… — he lifts and presses his thigh between the hero’s legs, drawing an involuntary gasp from him.

His smile is cynical, his eyes attentive to every nuance of Kenny’s expression, savoring the way he reacts.

— I don’t have much proof of your effectiveness… nothing that convinces me you really… — he intensifies the pressure, his hands firm as they guide the movement, dragging the hero against him.

Kenny falters, his body yielding to the stimulation as a low moan escapes his lips. The familiar heat spreads through his stomach, burning, demanding more. And then, Leo whispers in his ear.

— …will satisfy me.

The hero has no idea how he got to this point. They had always limited themselves to kisses and prolonged caresses, never crossing that line… until now. And it’s not like he’s dissatisfied — far from it. How many nights had he spent wishing for exactly this, longing to feel Leo this way, so close, so completely surrendered? But despite the excitement pulsing through his body, there is a genuine sense of surprise. He never imagined that Butters could have this seductive side.

Maybe it’s because Butters had always avoided conversations about sex. Or because of his unquestionable history of being a "complete airhead." Or maybe due to his naive and childlike nature — probably a bit of everything. Kenny wasn’t the only one who saw him that way; all their friends agreed without hesitation that Butters knew nothing about the subject.

But they were completely wrong. And so was he.

Leo knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s evident in every calculated movement, in the way his leg fits and moves against him, teasing him little by little. His hands slide up the hero’s sides, slow and deliberate, short nails scratching over the suit, sending shivers through him. When they finally reach his covered chest, his fingers start to play again, squeezing, massaging — but this time, there’s no nervousness or hesitation. The touch is pure desire now.

— I don’t… — a moan escapes before he can finish the sentence, the slow movements making every touch more intense. — I didn’t know my client would be so demanding…

Kenny slides his fingers over the buttons of Leo’s pajama shirt, unfastening them slowly to get better access to the exposed skin. His lips find his lover’s chest and collarbone, leaving kisses, soft bites, and suction marks that make the body beneath him shudder.

— Maybe… if you let me have a trial day for the job, you’ll see I’m perfect for the position… — he concludes.

Butters’ response comes through gestures before words. One hand moves up to Kenny’s golden hair, tugging firmly, while the other continues playing with his chest. He sighs, exposing his neck even more to Mysterion, his skin becoming a canvas where the vigilante paints reddish and purple marks with his mouth. But Leo is not content with just receiving — he retaliates.

With defiance, he presses Kenny against him at every possible point: his thigh tightens against the hero’s most sensitive area, his fingers pinch the soft flesh of his chest through the suit, and his other hand entwines in the vigilante’s hair, pulling without hesitation.

Kenny instinctively grinds against him, his eyes rolling back at the perfectly synchronized teasing. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, muffled as he bites Leo’s shoulder, trying to suppress the desperate moan threatening to escape.

— Hm… that might be… — Leo murmurs, his tone dripping with pleasure and challenge. — But you haven’t convinced me completely yet…

The hand in his hair tightens again, a throbbing heat spreading across his scalp, making him even more aroused.

— Why don’t you show me a little more of your servitude? — And then, the movements stop.

The sudden emptiness makes Kenny gasp, his body trembling with the frustration of interrupted desire. The teasing only fuels him further, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He tries to move against Leo’s leg, searching for the friction he needs, but nothing compares to the touch that was denied. He presses himself against Butters’ body, desperate for contact, for warmth, for the stimulation that would bring him back to ecstasy. But a palm on his back and a firm hand gripping his head keep him from continuing.

Kenny exhales a shaky breath, his eyes burning. His desire isn’t just physical — it’s a visceral hunger, an overwhelming need. He releases the bite on his lover’s shoulder, observing the reddened mark he left. It wasn’t strong, just enough to mark him, to make him remember. With effort, he lifts his gaze and meets Leo’s two-toned eyes, and what he sees nearly makes him unravel.

Desire gleams in the other’s dilated pupil, reflecting the moonlight like a silent promise. But Leo remains still, watching him with an air of pure provocation and control. If Kenny wants what he desires, he’ll have to play by Butters’ rules — and he’s waited so long to be part of this game.

— Leo… — he moans, his eyes wide and pleading. — Please… keep going… — His voice comes out strained, filled with an almost painful desperation. — Please… I’m begging you… don’t stop…

In desperation, his lips find his lover’s jaw, leaving hurried kisses, nibbling at the skin with growing hunger.

Leo lets out a low chuckle, enchanted by the hero’s surrender. He tugs at his hair again, drawing another trembling sigh, realizing just how easy it is to push Mysterion to the edge. The vigilante is on the verge of unraveling in his hands, tiny tears forming at the corners of his eyes, just waiting for permission to continue. And Leo loves it.

A slow, wicked smile forms on his lips. He’s in control.

— Now we’re speaking the same language… — he whispers against the hero’s mouth before capturing him in a deep kiss, resuming his movements mercilessly.

A moan escapes into Leo’s mouth, the sensations rushing back through Kenny’s hypersensitive body. The brief pause seems to have intensified every feeling — the suit now feels tighter, the sweat thicker, the scent heavier, the pain in his scalp even more intoxicating. The touches and squeezes become addictive, but they’re never enough. He wants more. He needs more.

Kenny moves with urgency, his agile hands sliding over his lover’s bothersome pajama shirt, trying to undo the buttons in a rush — almost ripping them off. But before he can, something grips his wrists. The movements stop, pulling him back from the brink of bliss. A frustrated whimper escapes him, his pleasure-clouded eyes locking onto Butters’ in confusion and desperation.

— L-Leo… — a breathless sigh is lost against the other’s lips. — What… Why…?

— What’s the rush, my hero? — The amusement and sensuality in his voice are sharp, cutting like a blade. He’s enjoying himself at Kenny’s expense, watching him beg. — I don’t want my clothes ruined. I’d get in trouble.

Releasing the hero’s wrists, Butters slides his hands down to his own buttons, undoing them slowly, as if putting on a show just for Mysterion. Kenny leans back slightly, his hungry eyes absorbing every inch of pale skin gradually being revealed. His hands tremble with anticipation, waiting for the right moment to act.

He watches every detail with reverence — the spots once hidden beneath the fabric that he had only imagined tracing with his fingers. Now, with the feverish body that had been kept from him for so long laid bare before him, with the real chance to touch, to explore every inch after countless repressed fantasies in the school locker rooms, McCormick feels his mouth water. He’s ready to pounce.

— Now, be patient. — Leo slides open the last button, pulling the fabric aside and leaving his chest exposed. — We don’t want this to be over too quickly, do we?

Mysterion still doesn’t move, merely watching as his hand is guided to the center of the other’s torso. Under his palm, he feels the rapid thrum of Leo’s heartbeat. With a hesitant touch, he caresses the area, feeling the warmth of his skin and the fine golden hairs adorning it, forming a sparse tuft. His other hand moves slowly to the nearest pec, squeezing it with curiosity. There’s enough flesh to grasp, a fullness that fills his hands differently than anything he’s experienced before.

It’s not like the other chests he’s touched — none of those soft and plush curves, or the firm, artificial feel of silicone. But none of that matters. Hell, he doesn’t care about any past experience. Everything before now seems like mere practice for this moment — for being here, now, exploring Leo’s body, touching his warm skin, feeling his breath hitch under his fingers.

Kenny swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth and lifts his gaze to his lover, seeking permission. Butters is flushed, a deep blush coloring his cheeks from both exposure and the hero’s unwavering attention. There’s a trace of insecurity in his eyes — a faint, nearly imperceptible flicker — but he holds his expression of confidence and control. Yet, he says nothing. He only watches. Waits.

Mysterion feels his own face burn. He’s never been on this side before, never had to ask. He was always the one receiving, the one taking what he wanted without hesitation. But now, if he wants to move forward, he has to ask. That’s how this game works.

— I-I… — He swallows hard, his hands remaining frozen over Leo’s chest, afraid to move without the permission he so desperately craves. — Can I touch…?

Leo raises an eyebrow, waiting for more. Kenny bites his lip and gives in.

— Please?

The smile he gets in return is everything. A satisfied, playful glint dances in Butters’ eyes, and Kenny feels warmth spread through his chest, the genuine joy of making the right choice washing over him. He smiles without realizing it.

— Of course… — Butters trails his fingers up into the vigilante’s hair, pulling him gently closer to his chest. — Just remember: haste is the enemy of perfection.

Kenny’s hands move the second he gets confirmation, squeezing and exploring both breasts in sync. His lips land at the center of Leo’s chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath his mouth. He licks, sucks, and bites the heated skin, leaving a trail of red and purple marks. Saliva gathers as his tongue teases and circles the most sensitive spots, drawing out breathy sighs and increasingly tight tugs in his hair. The grip on Kenny’s waist tightens, the pleasure of their teasing hitting them both in full force.

In one fluid motion, he slides a hand down to Butters’ waist and shifts away from his lover’s thigh, adjusting his position between the blonde’s legs. The brief loss of friction makes him whimper in frustration, but the discomfort is quickly replaced by a far more intense pleasure when their bodies press together completely. The direct contact makes them both gasp, their breathy sounds of need filling the room. Kenny shuts his eyes, intoxicated, as he sucks more firmly on Leo’s chest.

Butters’ dragged-out whisper reverberates through the space, short nails scratching at the hero’s scalp. Instinctively, Kenny reacts, grinding his waist harder against his lover, their movements growing more desperate. But when a loud moan escapes, he freezes. His hand flies up to Leo’s mouth, muffling the sound, and his eyes dart to the door. A few moments pass. Then they hear it.

Footsteps. Getting closer.

Panic strikes them in an instant.

Butters shoves Kenny against the wall, yanking the thick blanket over the hero’s head to hide him. In one swift motion, he fixes the fabric of his pajama top, moves over Mysterion, and shields him with his own body, covering any possible gaps that could expose him. His breath is unsteady, but he forces himself to stay calm as the footsteps stop in front of the door.

The lock turns. His father’s voice cuts through the air:

— Butters! What was that noise?

Leo swallows hard, forcing his tone to stay controlled, ready to make up any excuse. But then, something makes his stomach drop. His gaze flickers across the room, and the fatal detail hits him like an electric shock.

Mysterion’s boots and cape. Thrown carelessly on the floor. Visible.

— Butters! — the door swings open, and his father appears with an irritated expression. — What are you doing?

With his back to him, Leo pretends to be waking up from sleep. Moving slowly, he casts a sleepy glance over his shoulder while instinctively pressing Mysterion's head against his chest, hiding him under the blankets.

— Dad...? — he yawns, his voice dragging. — Did something happen?

— I heard a noise coming from here. — the older man's gaze narrows. — You're not up to anything, are you, young man?

— N-no, Dad. — he swallows dryly, trying to maintain his composure. — I was just sleeping, that's all.

The adult's eyes scan the room, searching for any sign of a lie. Then, they stop on the boots and cape thrown on the floor.

— And that? — he points to the clothes, his tone laden with suspicion.

— It's mine... — Leo stammers, desperately searching for a plausible excuse. His heart races. He presses the hero's face even tighter against himself, nervous. — My new... my new...

— Spit it out, Butters! — his father takes a step forward.

— It's my new costume! — the answer escapes in a shout. — That's it! My new Professor Chaos costume. — his voice drops to almost a whisper, fearing he might make things worse. — I... I was testing it and ended up falling asleep.

The older man narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced. The silence weighs heavily. Leo feels anxiety climbing every inch of his body, mentally begging for his father to simply accept the lie and leave.

Finally, the man lets out a heavy sigh and steps back toward the door.

— Next time, put your things away before sleeping, or you'll be grounded. — the warning comes dryly. — Now go to sleep and don't bother me or your mother. It's already late.

The door closes, and the lock clicks. Darkness envelops the room again, broken only by the moonlight streaming through the window.

Kenny feels the rapid beats of Butters' heart against his face, pounding as if he had just run a marathon. The air seems trapped in his lungs, keeping him rigid under the scorching blankets. Leo continues to stare fixedly at the door, as if expecting it to open at any moment, revealing his furious father ready to punish them for their indecency. The mere possibility makes him tighten his grip on Mysterion's hair, scratching his head and pressing it harder against his chest.

McCormick just sighs in satisfaction. The adrenaline, the tension, the risk of being caught — all of it only excites him more.

The silence stretches for long seconds until the hallway lights turn off. Butters and the hero's breathing slows, both finally relaxing under the blankets. With a mischievous smile, Kenny slides his hands under Leo's pajamas, lightly scratching the bare sides of his lover.

The touch elicits a sharp tug on his hair and a choked gasp. Leo turns abruptly, his indignant eyes locked on his.

— What are you doing?! — the angry whisper comes out breathless.

— Picking up where we left off. — Kenny replies as if it were obvious, his fingers tracing a new provocative path across the warm skin, scratching even more.

Leo lets out a trembling sigh, his body shuddering. His eyes roll back for a brief moment but soon return to their anxious and apprehensive gleam.

— Are you crazy? — he grabs the hero's wrists, stopping him from continuing. — What if my dad comes back? We're dead!

— We just have to be quieter. — Kenny smiles, convinced. — If we control ourselves, he won't even notice.

Leo furrows his brows, clearly hesitant. His hands still grip the hero's wrists tightly, the tension rising as he sinks deeper into the pit of his own anxiety. He wants to continue. But the fear of being caught paralyzes him.

The blond, unable to use his hands, slides his face against his lover's chest, burying his nose in the fine hair on Butters' torso. The touch is an improvised caress, provocative. He kisses, nibbles, teases the already sensitive breast, persuading him to give in. Leo's breath comes out in a ragged sigh, his once alarmed gaze gradually becoming clouded with pleasure.

Kenny looks up at him, pleading. One last wet kiss is left on Butters' nipples, echoing in the stifled room, before he murmurs in his most convincing tone:

— Please?

As if snapping out of a momentary trance, Leo stares at Kenny, one eyebrow raised, his gaze filled with indecision. He weighs the risks, calculates every possibility, his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest. Is it worth it? Is it worth the danger, the tension, the possibility of being discovered?

He licks his lips, an unconscious gesture — but sees Kenny's eyes following the movement, locked on the wet trail his tongue leaves. The hero swallows dryly, his breath caught in his throat, and without realizing it, mimics the gesture. Leo's chin trembles slightly. With one last sigh, he makes his decision.

— Alright. But silence, understood? — the warning comes out firm, a reminder to both Mysterion and himself.

He barely finishes the sentence, and Kenny is already moving. Like an animal freed from its cage, he lunges forward, capturing Leo's lips with overwhelming hunger. The shock makes Butters gasp against his mouth, but he quickly gives in, his fingers sinking into the hero's hair, pulling him closer, deeper. The kiss is hot, desperate, their tongues dancing in a clash of desire. Under the heavy blankets, the heat is suffocating, their bodies slippery with sweat, their breaths erratic, every touch igniting the other's skin. But it's not enough.

Leo throws the blankets aside, need overcoming fear, and moves on top of Kenny, fitting himself against him. The friction is immediate, their breaths mingling in ragged sighs. Butters hides his face against the pillow to muffle the sounds, but Kenny feels the vibrations of his moans echoing against his skin, sending shivers from head to toe.

He slides his hands along the sides of Leo's body, feeling the muscles tense under his touch, exploring every curve, every small spasm of pleasure he provokes. A satisfied smile forms on his lips as he notices the effect he's having. Then, he scratches.

Leo lets out a ragged sigh, his back arching under the stimulation. Kenny drags his nails again, this time with more intensity, and is rewarded with an involuntary shudder, a muffled moan into the pillow, begging for more. Heeding the command, the hero scratches harder, sinking into the sensitive skin with the tips of his sharp nails, noticing the red lines forming on his sides, vivid and beautiful.

It's like walking on clouds and touching the stars. Yet, Leo maintains a patient, calculated rhythm, each thrust of his hips against Kenny's, grinding their erections with cruel precision. McCormick wants more. Harder, faster, deeper. Butters' impassive slowness brings him to the edge of ecstasy but keeps him dangerously far from crossing the line.

With no patience for the slow tease, Kenny digs his hands into his lover's waist, pulling him urgently, demanding more, guiding him to the rhythm he needs. His movements are rougher, his breath ragged between gasps, their bodies molding into each other as if they were made for this.

Every touch, every thrust, every ragged breath fuels the fire consuming them. And Kenny has no intention of putting out that flame anytime soon.

Butters gives himself completely, letting himself sink into his own desire as he finally sits on the hero's lap, grinding aimlessly, each movement more desperate than the last. His eyes are closed, his brows furrowed in pure pleasure, and his lips bitten to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. Still, he murmurs hoarse commands between ragged breaths: "harder," "faster," "don't stop," "Ah... fuck...". He seems out of his mind, lost in the intoxicating sweetness of the forbidden fruit, tasting the fleeting flavor of paradise unfolding between their bodies.

Kenny feels himself on the edge of a precipice, floating in his own ecstasy, and Leo is the only thing holding him there — or perhaps it is Leo himself who hands him the keys to cross the gates of heaven. The hero watches him, fascinated, every detail etched into his mind like a celestial vision. Butters is like a fallen star, a divine being who decided to grace him with his existence.

The open shirt leaves his chest exposed, his nipples glistening under the pale moonlight, reddened, marked by trails of bites and kisses, while his sides bear the traces of dragged nails. Everything about him is art — from the undulating hips to the abdomen moving in the same sensual rhythm, drawing spirals of desire in the air. Kenny wonders if Leo practices these movements alone, perhaps in front of a mirror, perfecting his control. The thought makes his body tighten even more, the edge becoming unbearably thin.

His fingers dig into Leo's waist, leaving half-moon marks on his skin, as if trying to keep him there forever. Then, he slides his hands down to his buttocks, pulling him harder against himself, seeking desperation in the friction, yearning for the inevitable ruin.

The hero bites his own lips, trying to muffle the sounds threatening to escape, but all he manages are ragged gasps, growing louder. The line between control and surrender dissolves, his throat tightening, his eyes wet with frustration. He needs it. And he needs it now.

— Leo... — he moans, and this time, his voice is unrestrained. It's raw, desperate, an irrepressible plea. — Please... Leo... I'm so close... please... — The words come out in dry sobs, tears welling in his eyes from the pleasure. — Please... let me come...

But his plea is lost in the void. Butters is too far gone, surrendered to something he no longer rationally understands. His body moves on instinct, driven by his own desire, while his mouth parts, panting against the palm of his hand, which tries, unsuccessfully, to silence his moans. Sweat sticks golden strands to his forehead, his eyes still shut, his brows furrowed in concentration and ecstasy. He doesn't think, he only feels — and demands, like a merciless master.

— Fuck... don't stop... — he whispers, his tongue loose from the haze. — Ah... Kenny... — And then, a slightly louder moan escapes him, making his hand fly to his lips, trying to contain himself.

Mysterion feels a cold shiver run down his spine. His name. Butters moaned his name.

For a second, reality seems to distort. Has he been discovered? Does Leo know?

But when he searches the other's eyes, all he sees is the same lost gaze, surrendered to pleasure, his lips parted as he murmurs softly against his own hand. And then, once more, in a whisper as soft as a secret:

— Yes... Kenny...

The hero can barely breathe. And maybe, just maybe, he has finally crossed that line.

His eyes roll back, his head tilts, and a long moan dissolves against his own hand, muffled and trembling. The edge finally reaches him, the pleasure coursing through him like a hot lightning bolt, making his body arch involuntarily. His other hand grips Butters' slender waist, his fingers sinking into the flesh with enough force to leave visible marks the next day. Silent tears slide down the corners of his eyes, burning like his skin, like the feverish room around them.

Christ. He doesn't know how long it's been since he last felt something like this — this overwhelming wave, this liquefied fire spreading through his insides, twisting his stomach, filling his chest with something so incandescent that his vision dissolves into pure golden honey. His pants are unbearably wet, but that's an insignificant detail compared to the only truth that matters:

Butters moaned his name.

Kenny.

The sound echoes in the hero's mind, a sinful melody that strikes every fiber of his being like a divine chant. Never has something so simple seemed so hypnotic, so visceral. It was the necessary final push, the definitive shove that launched him straight into the stars, where he feels their warmth for the first time. But Leo hasn't reached them yet.

He continues his thrusts, urgency mixing with raw need to cross the threshold, to reach the same heaven where Kenny already floats, ecstatic. His name still reverberates through the room in broken whispers — a mantra of pure desire that, if Mysterion weren't the very person Butters is calling for, would destroy him completely.

Leo's breathing is ragged, his hands sliding over the hero's chest as his body moves, oscillating between precision and vertigo, riding with increasingly uncontrolled fervor.

The hero watches, fascinated, absorbing every detail like someone witnessing a sacred scene — the glistening sweat sliding down Leo's collarbone, the golden strands stuck to his forehead, his parted lips releasing pleas of pleasure. He is undone, vulnerable, every fiber of his body tense on the brink of falling.

And then, in one final act of mercy, Mysterion drags his nails down Leo's back, hard, with intent.

The other's cry is filled with surprise and ecstasy, a choked and urgent sound. His entire body shudders, as if short-circuiting, his nails digging into the hero's shoulders, his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut. His brows furrow, his mouth parts in a ragged moan, and Kenny knows — he knows that, in that moment, Leo is nowhere else but in the throes of the explosion consuming him.

And he has never seen anything more beautiful.

Butters collapses against the vigilante's body, his head fitting perfectly into the curve of Mysterion's neck, as if that space had been carved just for him. His still-hot, ragged breath brushes against the hero's skin, each exhale a burning whisper against his ear. He is still among the stars, lost in the vastness of the ecstasy that consumed him, and Kenny can feel it — in the small tremors, the drawn-out sighs, the way his chest rises and falls in a lazy, satisfied rhythm.

McCormick places delicate kisses on his face — on his cheek, his closed eyelids, his nose — as if revering something sacred. His fingers explore the gentle curve of Leo's hip, tracing the pulsating warmth of his marked skin, squeezing lightly, just to make sure it's real. Just to feel more.

A thought takes shape in his mind, and Kenny can't disagree: This was the best sexual experience he's had in years.

And maybe there was no penetration, maybe there were still too many clothes between them, but none of that matters. It never did. Because what devastated him wasn't the act itself, but every detail that led up to it—the restrained touches, the desperate sighs, the subtle power play between provocation and uncontrollable desire, the tension of being caught. It was intense, unbearably good, addictive in a new and dangerous way.

Mysterion pulls him closer, his arms wrapping around Butters' marked back, as if he could keep him there forever. He loses himself in the golden strands damp with sweat, burying his face in them, inhaling the intoxicating scent of apples and salt. Normally, the smell of sweat would nauseate him, make him wrinkle his nose — but now? Now it's an intoxicating fragrance, a forbidden perfume that ensnares him and drags him even deeper into this feverish haze.

Leo is his new drug.

His scent, his skin, the heat he radiates — everything about him is an addiction Kenny doesn't know how to quit. Nor does he want to. He needs to feel more, to intoxicate himself more, to lose himself completely in his presence until there's nothing left but the two of them. It's an insatiable hunger, a desire so desperate it hurts, burning like live embers under his skin. And then comes the bitter taste of possession.

He never considered himself a selfish man. He always gave too much, always put others before himself — so much so that he created Mysterion to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. But here, now, with Leo so surrendered in his arms, something primal stirs within him.

Butters is his.