“Maldicíon…” Cyanide lounged in his room, spread lazily across his bed. For days he had been praying for a day off, for a moment’s peace. His sisters were getting to him, his mother was getting to him, lack of Skids time was getting to him…Boy Band was going nowhere, but Harley didn’t seem to care. As long as he was with Rasputin, everything was just great, at least, for him. But…everything suddenly stopped. His mother decided to take the little ones out to the mall herself, and finals were halfway over already. Harls hadn’t called in a while, so he was most likely busy. So, Cyanide got what he wanted, and now he regretted it more than anything. Now he was bored. He groaned low and turned onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow.“Ugh…boredom is…boring.” The phone rang out in the hall, stirring Cyanide into a sitting position.
“Who…?” Cyanide murmured, sliding off his bed, slinking out into the hallway. He wasn’t sure if the ringing was actually the phone or just in his head. He picked up the receiver and was greeted to a happy, familiar voice and an unhappy, though also familiar, wrench in his gut.
“Hello, Cyanide?!” Cyanide’s best bud squealed on the other end of the line. He winced. Hearing Skids’ voice was nice, but just the sound put images in his head that he was positive shouldn’t be there. That didn’t mean he didn’t like it, even in the tiniest, however. He rubbed his temple and yawned.
“Skids? What’s up, dude?” Cyanide asked, leaning against the wall opposite the phone table. He could just hear Skids grinning.
“Eh, not much, man. Wanna come over? I’m bored outta my mind. And I’m looooonely!” Skids whined. Cyanide blushed. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Skids was alone…and he was thinking of him…Dios. “Cya? Still there, buddy?” Cyanide grimaced.
“Uh, yeah. Still here. Sorry ‘bout that. You, uh, said you wanted me to come over?” Skids made one of his cute little affirmative noises. Cyanide bit his lip. “Um, sure. I’m not doing anything. My mom’s got the car, though. I can walk it, but it’ll take longer.” There was an odd silence over the line, then a frustrated grunt. Cyanide raised an eyebrow. “Skids?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m reeeaaally bored, but walk if ya gotta. I’ll be waiting!!” Skids said, happy again. Cyanide smiled.
“Okay, on my way.”
~~~~~~~~~ To say it was weird would be an understatement. It took Cyanide about twenty minutes to actually get to Skids’ dorm building, but the place seemed almost abandoned when he arrived. Seriously, not one person was outside, or even walking around the campus. It was pretty creepy, to say the least. Quickening his pace, Cyanide rushed to Skids’ floor, rapping on the door with his knuckles. He could hear movement from inside and a split second later, the door was open and he was being ushered inside.
“Hiya, Cya!” Skids greeted his best bud. Cyanide grinned, though he was still a little creeped out.
“Um, Skids, why isn’t there anybody around? I mean, have you been out there? Like, it’s like this place has been deserted, man.” Skids shrugged.“Finals, dude. Everybody’s either locked away in their dorms studying, or they’re pining. Half the people I know already think they’re gonna fail.” Cyanide grimaced.
“Bad mindset.” Skids nodded. He grabbed Cyanide by the wrist and led him further into the room, urging him onto the sofa. “Wha-?” Skids smiled.
“So, whaddya wanna do? We can watch some TV, but nothin’s on. I checked.” Skids smirked. “Anything you feel like doing?” Cyanide leaned back, frowning.
“Not really.” Skids sighed, disheartened. He joined Cyanide on the couch, playing with the brim of his cap. Cyanide tilted his head back, rolling his eyes. “Hey…why aren’t you studying?” Skids stuck his tongue out.
“I can’t think straight. Very wonky, considering I’ve got a Trig final in two days. I don’t like math…” He wrinkled his nose. Cyanide laughed. Skids smirked. “Not funny. Hey, want something to drink? New machines were just put in like, right next my room. Haven’t tried everything yet.” Cyanide shrugged.
“Yeah, okay.” He shifted and dug around his pockets for some change. “Straight Coke’s fine with me, man. You can be all crazy with your Blue or Red whatevers.” Skids winked and jumped up, heading for the door. Unfortunately, Cyanide’s leg was right there to greet Skids’ foot, tripping Skids and pulling him down, banging Cyanide’s knee into the sofa. Skids caught himself before he fell, but Cyanide turned funny, twisting his leg. He shouted painfully, causing Skids to turn sharply, almost knocking himself over again.
“Sta bene?!” Skids squeaked, his eyes wide. Cyanide blinked.
“Um…what?” Skids also blinked. He shook his head.
“Are you okay?” Skids asked. Cyanide snorted, grinning.
“Oh! Y’see, that’s not what you said. I mean, it’s what you said, but you didn’t say it like that.” It was Skids’ turn to look confused. “Dude, I think you shouted at me in Italian.” Skids inhaled deeply and nodded, understanding.
“Oh, heh, sorry. Boy, that’s weird. I don’t do that often.” Cyanide smiled. He leaned forward, putting pressure on his knee, hoping nothing serious happened to it. No pain, so he was confident he was okay. He reached out for Skids’ hand and pulled him back down to sit with him on the sofa.
“You okay?” Skids nodded again. Cyanide tilted his head, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. “I didn’t think you actually spoke Italian.” Skids blushed lightly, surprising Cyanide.
“Non parlo molto Italiano.” Cyanide raised an eyebrow. “I don’t speak much of it. I mean, I know it, but I don’t use it a lot. I slip up now and again when I get really mad, or scared. Not a whole lotta people I know speak it.” Cyanide understood. Honestly, the only people he knew who actually understood Spanish was his own family, but that never stopped him from speaking it amongst those who don’t understand it. It was obviously different in Skids’ case. His family was much smaller, and not really around. He probably used it more often when he was younger, but he didn’t need to now. Made sense.
“Still…” Skids raised an eyebrow. Cyanide grinned. “You know, Italian and Spanish are very similar in certain ways. Just a word or two is different, or the pronunciation is a little off. But, otherwise, it sounds very much the same.” It was Skids’ turn to grin.
“Yep! Like, when you say…um…” Skids blushed a little. Cyanide furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, y’know, like when you say mouth. In Spanish, it’s ‘la boca’, right?” Cyanide nodded. “In Italian, it’s ‘la bocca’. Just a…just a slight difference in the way it’s…said.” Cyanide suddenly took on a mischievous expression.
“¿Le importa si…?” Cyanide started. He just got the craziest idea…He scooted closer to Skids. Skids looked confused.“Didn’t…uh, didn’t quite get that.” Skids’ gaze darted from Cyanide’s face to his significantly closer knee. Cyanide’s grin spread wider.
“Means, ‘do you mind if’.” Cyanide explained. Skids nodded slowly. “Do you mind if I move in a little closer?” Cyanide almost whispered. Skids shook his head vehemently. Cyanide leaned closer to Skids, his finger hovering mere inches from his mouth. “La bocca?” Skids nodded. Cyanide slowly slid his finger downward, a breath away from Skids’ neck. “This is ‘el cuello’.” Skids swallowed.
“El cuello?” Cyanide nodded. Skids inhaled sharply. He let himself fall backwards an inch or two, so he was now resting on the arm of the couch. He raised a shaky hand and softly caressed Cyanide’s neck. “It’s also ‘il collo’, or even ‘la gola’.” Skids hissed. Cyanide licked his lips, loving the feather soft touch of Skids’ hand on his neck.
“You have two words for neck?” Cyanide laughed lightly. Skids shook his head.
“No…one means neck. The other means throat…” He murmured. Cyanide moved in closer, his lips dangerously close to Skids’ la gola. He shook his head and backed off quickly, realizing what he was doing and taking Skids by surprise. Skids blinked, breathing heavy. “Wha…what’s wrong?” Cyanide shut his eyes tightly.
“I’m sorry, Skids. I…um…” Cyanide grimaced. “Mierda… I don’t have a good explanation for going on like that. What in the world do I tell him?!?” Skids frowned.
“Cyanide…is something wrong? Why’d you stop?” Cyanide’s eyes flew open. He stared, shocked, at Skids.
“Ski-skids?” Cyanide stammered. Skids smirked.
“Sta bene?” He smiled, sitting up straight. He raised one arm, wrapping it around Cyanide’s shoulder. Cyanide blinked.
“Um…” Well, now he wasn’t sure what to do. Cyanide never would have thought Skids would be okay with being, well…intimate with him. It was okay to play around a bit, like around Rasputin, just for fun. But they never played around when they were alone. To be honest, Cyanide really wanted to ‘play around’ with Skids right now. He wanted to kiss him senseless, but without the big, hairy Russian around to freak out, there was no real reason to. Besides just wanting to, that is.
Skids was glaring at Cyanide now, still waiting for an answer. Noticing Cyanide seemed a little lost in thought, Skids snuck closer, wrapping his other arm around Cyanide’s other shoulder. He nuzzled his nose into Cyanide’s neck, trying to snap him back into reality. It worked.
“Dios!” Cyanide hissed. Skids grinned wide. He splayed his fingers across Cyanide’s shoulder, gliding down and resting it in the middle of his back.
“Okay, this is ‘la schiena’.” Skids whispered into Cyanide’s ear.
“La…la espalda.” Cyanide sighed. Skids softly pressed his lips to Cyanide’s jaw. Cyanide was quickly losing his ability to think. Taking advantage of this, he pushed gently on Skids’ chest, urging him to lie back into his spot on the sofa’s arm. Skids did so without question. Cyanide leaned forward, running his fingers over Skids’ forehead, knocking off his ball cap. Cyanide let his fingers travel down over Skids’ nose, his lips, his neck, down to his chest. “Corazón. Heart.” Cyanide murmured, swallowing hard. Skids bit his lip, smiling.
“I always wondered what that meant.” He let his own fingers play over Cyanide’s chest, stopping over his heart. “Cuore.” Skids said. He could feel Cyanide’s heartbeat quicken. He slid his hands back up to Cyanide’s neck, tugging him down to sort of half-lay on him. “Vieni qui e baciami, Cya.” Skids whispered into Cyanide’s ear. Cyanide blinked.
“I…I don’t know what that means…” Skids smiled.
“Come here and kiss me.” Cyanide’s eyes widened. His throat suddenly felt very dry.
“A-a-are you okay w-with…” Skids rolled his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Cyanide’s.
Cyanide suddenly felt very uncomfortable, but he was too afraid to move. He was kissing Skids…well, technically, Skids was kissing him, but that hardly mattered.
This was either the smartest, or the stupidest, thing he had ever done. Regardless, there was a problem. Cyanide wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this particular situation. He enjoyed being in this position, but he knew he must be heavy to Skids, especially considering he hadn’t taken off his coat, let alone that he felt heavy, what with his boots and ridiculous amount of jewelry. He felt ungainly in all that hardware. In addition, this liplock, no matter how hard he wished otherwise, was gonna end sooner or later. They were gonna need to breathe soon. What happens after it’s over? What if Skids doesn’t like the feeling of really kissing Cyanide, and he decides that maybe this was a bad idea…
Skids pulled away just then, smiling heartily. Cyanide’s heart was stuck in his throat, he wasn’t sure if he could speak again. Skids tilted his head and blinked. He leaned in again, but his lips grazed Cyanide’s ear this time.
“Tu hai le labbra le piu morbide del mondo…” Skids sighed happily, his breath tickling Cyanide’s neck.
“I…didn’t catch that.” Cyanide choked out. Skids laughed.
“I said you have the softest lips, Tesoro Mio.” Cyanide blinked. Skids grinned and wrapped his arms tightly around Cyanide’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. Cyanide wrapped his own arms around Skids, trying to settle himself comfortably with him on the couch, and trying to mentally keep his stomach from jumping out through his chest. Skids cuddled with Cyanide, snuggling into his arms. “Tesoro Mio…My Treasure…” Cyanide couldn’t help from laughing then. Skids looked up at him, questions in his eyes. “That made you laugh?” He sounded a little hurt. Biting his lip, trying to avoid grinning any wider, Cyanide shook his head.
“I’m not laughing at that. I just think I must be losing it.” Skids still looked confused. “I mean, this morning, I woke up from another of the millions of dreams I have about you. It feels like I must have somehow gone back to sleep. This doesn’t feel real…I don’t know if it is.” Skids shook his head, sighing.
“You dream about me…? How come you never told me?” Cyanide blushed deeply. He felt his ears grow warm. Skids giggled.
“Well, uh, it’s not something you go and tell someone.” Skids squeezed Cyanide.
“I dream about you, too, Cya.” Cyanide blushed even deeper. “Baciami, Cya.” Cyanide blinked. It took a moment for him to remember what the request meant. He licked his lips and smiled.
“Con mucho gusto, corazón.” Skids tilted his head.
“What’s that mean?” Cyanide brushed his lips against Skids’.
“Means, ‘with pleasure’.” Skids grinned. Cyanide pressed another kiss to Skids’ lips, murmuring something Skids didn’t hear.
“What was that?” Skids asked. Cyanide blinked.
“Hmm?” Skids ran a finger across Cyanide’s bottom lip, smirking.
“You said something. What did you say?” Cyanide blushed again, closing his eyes.
“Te amo…Skids…” Skids felt like his heart stopped a moment. He didn’t need a translation for that. Two very tiny words…meaning the same thing as those very important, but by no means longer, three words. Te amo, Spanish; Ti amo, Italian. Both meaning the same thing. I love you…
“I do, too. Tesoro Mio. Ti amo…Cyanide.”
The End
