What You Wish For
By ciaan
Boy Meets Boy by K. Sandra Fuhr

I make a quick run-through of my mental To Do list. Study for test? Check. Eat lots of pizza? Check. Now the last item... How to phrase it... Okay. Ravish Skids. I write it in nice, block letters in my mind. Yeah, that looks good. Ravish Skids. Coming right up.

But first, I have to check on one thing. I turn over to look at him. He's lying on the bed beside me, staring at the ceiling.

"Are you happy, Skids? You're not upset over anything?" I just gotta make sure, one last time. A lot of stuff has gone on in the last week. And I still have to keep checking, as if this might all fade away, or I might wake up and it's just another of my wonky dreams.

"What would I be upset about?" He actually looks like he doesn't know what I mean, as if he hasn't been thinking about it.

"You know... About Harley..."

"No, I'm happy. Everyone's right where I want them to be, Cyan."

I push myself up and lean over him. "Well, good." It is good. Now I can proceed with the next step. "Now, I have some ideas..." I grin at him, well, maybe it's a leer, just to make sure he gets it.

"Okay, Cy, whatever you want." He smiles at me. He's so sweet.

"I only want what makes you happy, querido." I really mean it. Except that right now, I have a very specific definition of the word happy in mind. I touch his lips lightly with mine, and feel him reach up for my kiss. He's always so enthusiastic.

We've been spending a fair portion of the past afternoon making out. We've been spending a fair portion of the past few days making out, in fact. We're both currently shirtless and barefoot, and I run my hands over his chest as we kiss, palms flat, pressure hard, so it doesn't tickle. Any lighter, and he'd be giggling and squirming.

I've gotten used to this part. I've gotten used to the fact that he's taller than me, gotten used to the flatness of his chest. Gotten used to all that.

But all along, so far, there's been a boundary that hasn't been crossed. I know right where that boundary is. It's right at the top of the waistbands of our pants.

I have to admit that even though I've gotten used to this part, I'm scared of the next part. Scared that... scared of a lot of things, really. Scared that I won't be able to do it right, to please him. Scared that I won't be able to do it at all; that I just won't be able to go through with it. Scared that I won't like it, despite how much I like him. Scared that I will like it. Pretty much any outcome I can think of, actually, I'm scared of.

But I want to do it, anyway.

He's such a turn-on.

And today is the day to cross that boundary. Today's the day to go for it.

He's not scared at all, I know that. Even though he hasn't done any of this before, either. He's not scared; he's just been waiting for me. Since he's waiting for me to do something, I'm gonna have to be the one to do something. And that's the way it should be, right? I mean, I'm the one who's more experienced, right? So why am I all shivery nervous like some fucking virgin?

Nuh uh. That's enough of that, man. Not gonna think like that anymore.

Anyhow, he doesn't mind. He's happy just making out for hours, like a chick. I like all that, too, but I do want more. I want him. I want everything. If it has to do with him, I want it.

Right?

His hands are skittering along my back, tracing the edges of my shoulder blades, nails scraping along the bumps of my spine. I feel him pressed up under me, his mouth completely open to me. His ribs are there, under his muscles, under my hands. I pull away slightly, and lick his lips softly. He looks up at me with shining eyes. I reach out and gently remove his baseball cap, tossing it away. His bangs fall in among the rest of his brown hair, mussed up around his face.

He looks different. This is not the normal Skids. This is not the everyday Skids, the one who goes to class, the one who deals with the world. This is a special Skids, my Skids. Like... bedroom edition Skids.

"Cya..." he says gently. He's looking at me, blinking, and then he reaches up as well, undoing my headband. My hair's already rather messy, spikes starting to come apart and flop down, strands wisping away and falling around my eyes. He runs his fingers through my hair, pulling the spikes apart even more, smoothing them down, creating waves of hair that dangle toward him as I lean over his body. His combing feels very nice. And now I look all different, too. We match, and I can tell he's thinking the same type of thing I am. That we're here, and we're together... and he's so lovely. Although I can't imagine how he could look at me and see something as wonderful as what I see when I look at him. I'm glad that he sees something he likes, however. Very glad.

I nip at his jawbone, under his chin, and at the place where it curves up to his ear, and then at his earlobe. He's got a hickey I left on his neck a few days ago; I've been refreshing it so it won't fade. I like it there, and I plan on keeping it there as long as possible, as long as he doesn't mind.

"I wanna make you happy, Skids." I whisper right into his ear, emphasizing the word happy, lust dripping from my voice. Yup, that's definitely lust.

"Really?" There's a little catch in his tone, but I can't tell exactly what it is.

I bite his neck in reply, one fingernail playing with his nipple. He trembles beneath me. His hands are resting on my shoulders.

As I move my mouth over a little further, he gives me a shove, pushing me on the bed beside him, rolling over on top of me, kissing me on the lips again, his tongue snaking out. I kiss back. His weight's all on me, and it makes him seem very real, very present. He runs a finger along my face, over my cheekbone and across my jaw, feeling the shape of it. His lips are grabbing at mine, catching on my labret. Then they move over to my earlobe, and he suckles there, his tongue running through the insides of my earrings. Next he kisses my brow ring, then moves to the other ear, doing the same thing there.

He's doing the tour of the shiny things. He's done this before. Funny, how it's only been so short a time, and yet certain things have become usual. I like it.

He makes a brief, unscheduled stop to lick the large buckle on the front of my collar, before unfastening it and pushing it away. Then he continues on to my nipple ring, and I dig my nails into his back. His mouth is all warm and wet (I tell myself that all mouths are, but it still seems like a revelation that his is) and little tendrils of pleasure are winding through me. He moves to my belly ring, and his breath is soft on my stomach, and then he pulls up and is kissing me deeply again.

I am totally, completely, absolutely hard. I think he probably is, too. No, I know he is. I can feel it, now that I let myself notice. I've noticed it other times, also, but I kinda blocked it out mostly.

I slide my hands off his back, down past his chest and stomach, to the fly of his jeans where his pelvis is pressed against mine, and begin to unbutton them. This is not a good position for doing so.

"Skids..." I say, bucking under him and lifting him off me a bit, "...there." Now I can get it open, and I do, pulling the zipper down as well. I run my hands in under his pants and push them down his hips. His hands come down and crash into mine as he helps me pull off his jeans and boxers, and his legs brush up against mine as he bends his knee to get the pants over his ankles, and then he's pulling at the fastenings of my own clothes, and he sits up for a second to tug them off, and then we're both fully naked. We're lying on our sides, kissing, and I can feel him pressed up against me, every inch of his skin against my own, and his hard dick is rubbing against mine, and it feels good. If I don't think about what it is, it feels good. If I do, I get scared again.

So don't think, Cyanide. Just do it.

I run my right hand, the hand that isn't crushed into the mattress, down his back and cup his ass. There's not as much there to grab as on a girl, but that's okay. I pull his hips closer to me, pressing us together even more, and he murmurs a shapeless sound into my mouth. I bite his lip in return.

We kiss for a moment longer, then my hand moves up over his thigh and down between us, and my fingers slide along, touching both him and myself tantalizingly. This does, unfortunately, push us a little further apart, but the shivers running all over his body make up for that, in my mind. He slowly falls back onto the bed, so that I'm now leaning slightly over him. His eyes are closed, the eyelashes fluttering softly. I fasten my teeth on his neck, bury my face in his hair so I'm not looking, and run my fingers over his erection. Up, down, around, down, up, over... Just light strokes with my fingertips. It's warm, and solid, and dry, that soft delicate texture, and I'm tracing each line of the shape. I know that I'm teasing him, that it feels nice but has got to be just not enough.

He doesn't say anything, and neither do I. My inner monologue is screaming at me something fierce, but I'm not going to let it come out. I can't let myself put words to what I'm doing just now. I look into his face, finally, and he's smiling. That's good. One of his arms is trapped under me, and the other is splayed out across the bed next to him. I wrap my hand closed now, full contact, and begin stroking, light and fast. Mmm... friction. Wonderful property of surfaces, that. His mouth opens in a gasp. I continue stroking up and down. After a moment, I decide I need to be touching him more. One of my hands is busy, and the other is propping me up, so I begin to suck on his earlobe. He gasps again. I work my way down his jaw and neck, feeling and tasting his gasps on his throat. I run my tongue along the edge of his armpit, gnaw at the pale skin around his nipple, and finally lick the tightened brown flesh itself. My hand is still moving as fast as I can make it. I bite his nipple, and keep biting, probably too hard, but he doesn't complain, just shivers and continues to breathe raggedly. He tastes delicious.

My hand that's... well, that's... anyhow, I grip tighter now, moving harder, the skin rubbing against itself, and I can feel the textures beneath... It's a little awkward, this isn't the normal angle I have when I do this, but I think I'm doing fine. I feel his chest rising and falling as he pants. He grabs my shoulder with one hand, the other clutching into the sheets. His nails dig in. His skin is flushed. His back arches slightly.

I look up into his face again, shaking my hair away from my eyes.

Wow. Dude. He's even more beautiful than in my wildest dreams. His head is pressed into the pillow, and he's breathing in short little gasps, and his mouth is slightly open, his eyes squeezed shut, and his fingernails are gripping at my shoulder desperately. I can't tear my gaze away from him. He moans, and I feel his hips moving under my hand, and he's just glowing, and... Whoa.

I glance down. His cum is dripping over my fingers. It's warm and gooey and it's his. It's strange. I look back up at his face. That expression... His face is a beatific mask of pure pleasure and joy.

I need to kiss him.

So I do.

He kisses back dazedly, in that slack-jawed, post-orgasmic fashion. He's luscious.

I feel his eyelashes brush against my cheeks as his eyes open, and he pulls his mouth away slightly. His voice is rough as he whispers, "Shibby. There were all these sparkly colors." I smile and wrap my arms around him, pulling him to me, and in the process smearing cum all over him, me, the sheets. Okay, there's gonna be a lot of stickiness later, but I try to ignore it. For now I just want to hold him close and feel his warmth and presence. He puts his arms around me as well and snuggles up. He seems like he wants to be held. He smells good. I can feel his heart beating.

I'm willing to lie like this forever.

Well, I'm also really horny myself, but...

We stay still for a moment. Then his fingers begin to move slowly on my back, and he kisses my throat. "I wanna make you see colors, too, Cyan." I laugh. Have I mentioned that I adore him? His voice is still low and husky, and it makes my stomach feel fluttery again. I've never heard that tone in it before. I enjoy the sound.

I gently cup his chin in my hand and turn his face so that we're gazing in each other's eyes. "I don't know, querido. I think that might just be you. It doesn't normally happen to me."

"It's never happened to me before, either. So there's a chance."

I chuckle again. "Anything you want..."

He sits up, and so I sit up, too. He slowly pushes me back along the bed until I'm sitting leaning against the wall at the head. I move the pillow aside to get rid of the bump under me. He kneels over me, running his hands through my loose hair. I clutch his hips and pull him closer to me again as he leans over to kiss me. He seems to have plans, but I'm not sure what they are. I'm willing to wait and see. He's kissing me hard and deep, tongue filling my mouth completely. His hands slide over my shoulders and down my arms, then up my stomach and chest, fingernails scratching. His feet are rubbing softly against my legs.

He begins the tour of the shiny things again. Each piercing on my face receives a kiss. He slowly slides down my body as his mouth moves lower. "Cy..." he whispers into my neck, "I want..." his voice murmurs as he licks the wing of my dragon, then sucks at my nipple ring, "to do..." he says to my belly ring, "things..." he bites my hipbone, squirming his body inbetween my legs, his hands around my knees, my hands resting on his back, and I'm tracing circles on his skin with my fingers, "like..." he kisses the inside of my thigh, "this..." and he slowly, very slowly, clasps his mouth around my hard-on. I did say how amazing it is that his mouth is warm and wet, didn't I? His tongue flicks out, and he seems to be trying to get used to the feel and taste, and I have to admit to myself that I don't even know exactly what he's experiencing right now, which is something I never thought of in this situation before, probably because no one has ever done this to me before who I could actually do the same thing to myself, and... And I don't really want to think about that, and at the moment it's rather easy to stop thinking, because he's moving his head up and down, and he's sucking, rather hard, and his hands are beginning to move all around that general area of my body, sliding over my thighs and stomach and ass and balls. I look down at him, kneeling between my spread legs, moving against me.

There's not much skill. He doesn't exactly know what he's doing. But it works anyway. Because he's him, and I've wanted this for so very long, and I care about him so much, and he seems to be getting a bit better at this with each passing second.

I refrain from burying my hands in his hair and gripping his head, even though I want to. A girl once got very angry when I did that, and yelled at me. I haven't done it since, but it's still my automatic reaction. Instead, I stick my arms slightly behind myself and jam my hands down between the wall and the mattress, clutching at it, trapping them there and holding myself still. The litany in my head spills out over my lips.

"Skids, querido, just keep going, don't ever stop, ah, Dios, I wanted you so much and now this is real, just like that, yes, faster, te deseo..." I know I'm babbling, but I don't care, and he's holding my hips down now, his hands digging into me. "Más fuerte, yes, por favor, Skids, suck me, oh yes, te amo, oh please, keep doing that..." I hardly know if I'm begging or ordering, I seem to switch from one to the other with each word. I'm not even sure how much he follows, as I'm also switching languages, but he continues to do things that feel good. I don't normally do this, but there's a thousand things swirling through my mind, I can't get any of it under control, and just as I couldn't let myself say anything earlier now I can't stop myself from saying it all. I hope I don't seem too idiotic. Although I can't really believe that it matters... I trust him, I want him, I... I finally end up just moaning his name repetitively. "Oh Skids, Skids... Skids...."

I press myself back against the wall, and there's warmth and wetness and touches and pressure and motion and he's tugging at my nipple ring and I'm deathly aware of his mouth and everything's building up inside me, building up inside my crotch and building up behind my eyes, and it all comes together as one and that's it, that's all of it, all the pleasure in the world, all the sensation, is right here... "Skids, oh Dios yeessss...."

I feel him move away, and then he's back, pulling me to him, and we collapse across the bed so that I'm lying atop him, and we're kissing, he tastes funny, he tastes like me, he's laughing.

"What's so funny, querido?" I ask him gently. His arms are wrapped around me, and I'm all tingly still. His warm skin is soft against my own.

"I like it when you talk like that, Cy. I like the way you sound."

"Good." I reply, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Any sparkly colors?"

"Not really. Maybe. I don't know."

"Hmm. Maybe next time..."

I'm already looking forward to next time.

I bite at his neck, at my mark there.

"I like that, too." He twists his throat to give me better access to it. "Sometimes when I'm all alone I press at it, and it makes me remember you, and the way you feel. It's nice. And I like the fact that we're roomies again tonight. It's so shibby."

"I like you, Skids. I like the way you look, and... And everything. I especially like the way you were looking just now."

"When I was doing stuff to you, or when you were doing stuff to me?"

"Both."

We're silent for a moment. Like I said, I could lie here forever, held against him. I'm more comfortable than I've been in... I don't even know how long.

I smile at him again. "So does this mean I swept you off your feet?"

He looks at me innocently. "I'm not standing up right now, am I?"

I pull out tomorrow's mental To Do list. Sweep Skids off his feet, I write on it in large capital letters. That looks good. Very good.

***

I wake up slowly. The first thing I notice is that someone is curled behind me, fitting into all my bends, arm over my side and hand resting against my chest, naked and warm, breathing evenly into my ear. The second thing I notice is that this person is shaped like Skids. The third thing I notice is that I know what Skids is shaped like. It makes me smile.

I open my eyes, breaking through the seal of sleep dust. I move slightly in order to peer at the clock. There's a little over half an hour before the alarm goes off.

The breathing in my ear changes, and there's a stretching of muscles behind me. Then lips nip at my earlobe and he whispers, "Time, Cya?"

"About half an hour 'til the alarm." I whisper back.

"You tired? You wanna go back to sleep?"

I half shrug against him. "I don't really care."

He kisses the back of my neck, softly, right at the roots of my hair. It's a shivery feeling. His hand begins to trace feathery patterns on my chest. It moves lower. I can feel him growing hard behind me.

I turn to face him.

We kiss. I'm ready to try all this sex stuff we did last night again. And so we do. I cum right before he does, and watch him orgasm through a haze of afterglow. It all feels less strange than it did the first time. And he's even more beautiful.

We lie there in peaceful silence for a moment, and I stare into his deep hazel eyes, with the whole world swirling at the bottom.

"Skids, are we... going out?"

"Would you like us to be?" His voice is so quiet I can hardly hear him.

"Well..." I don't completely know what he wants. Maybe I don't completely know what I want. I want this, I do, totally, but what does it all mean? What will it do to us in the future? I was so worried to let him know I liked him, so worried to lose him, and what if this doesn't work out? And how would I tell my family? But I guess it's already happening...

I must have been quiet too long, because he speaks again. His voice is very tender. "Would you want to be my boyfriend? 'Cause I'd be your boyfriend, if you wanted."

Dude... A boyfriend is one of the last things in the world I ever thought I would have. But it actually sounds rather nice. "Si, querido. I'd like us to be boyfriends."

We kiss, very softly.

I am lying in my boyfriend's arms, both naked, on his bed, which we slept in together like this, right after making each other cum, and he is more beautiful than I ever thought anything could be.

The world is a wonky place.

And that's when the alarm goes off. Damn classes...

***

Skids informs me one day that he went shopping with Harley, and he pulls out his loot for me to see. Said loot happens to consist of a wide variety of condoms and lube.

I just sort of stare for a while. I guess that means he wants to... We've done everything else already, so...

But my other thought is a picture of him and Harley, talking and laughing together, sorting through all these things, and I'm illogically jealous, that he told someone else before he told me, that he shared part of this with someone else. But I remind myself that that doesn't matter, that no matter what he's chosen me.

He's gazing at me with that look he gets, the one he has when he worries he's done something that displeases me, that little look that says he needs my approval. I can never stand to let him think he's done something wrong, when it's always just me and my own stupid confused emotions being taken out on him. "Condoms are okay, right?" he asks.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I'm used to that." Then I feel like even more of an idiot, because that didn't come out the way I wanted, so I lean over and kiss him.

He's so willing and helpful as we go along, but he keeps making little comments about how things are supposed to be done that just makes me imagine how he got a huge long informational session from Harley. But I forget about that once we've gone through all these "preparations" and he takes ahold of my cock and slowly guides me into him.

I push forward slightly; he winces, and I stop. His eyes are closed, his brow furrowed. He's biting his lip. Finally I'm all the way in, and he lets go and relaxes a bit.

It feels wonderful to me, so tight and delicious. I begin to thrust, slowly and gently. After a while he begins to gasp in pleasure, his eyes still closed. I'm going faster and harder now.

His arms are wrapped around my back, his hands clasped between my shoulder blades. His legs are pulled up, wrapped around my hips. I can feel his feet on the back of my legs. He's pushing his hips up toward me, not quite matching my rhythm. I'm bent down, my face in his chest, thrusting strong and quick. He's making little breathless noises above my head, short, sharp, high moans.

There's a world of pleasure in him, in his body, and I'm being led through it, down each and every little hidden track. I've lost the ability to think, and there's only my rhythm, and in is pleasure and out is pleasure and he's a bubble of warmth and tenseness.

I gasp against his skin one last time as it all floods over me, and stay utterly still for a moment.

Then I look up into his face.

He's staring back at me, with a little half-smile, and I realize Dios, I didn't make it work for him.

I end up going down on him and finishing him off with my mouth, but I feel like an idiot the whole time I'm doing it.

He doesn't seem to mind, just snuggles close to me for a bit, and then says he's going to go rinse off. He picks up a towel to wrap around himself and goes down the hallway to the dorm bathroom.

I roll over on my stomach and rest my head in my crossed arms.

I don't know what went wrong. I was trying, I was... I do know how to pleasure a girl, but the things I was doing weren't really doing the trick, and then I didn't get him there before I came. I feel bad for that. I mean... I'm still kinda skeptical about this whole thing. I can't really believe that it's actually any good. And I know I hurt him a bit... I didn't want to hurt him. And I can't imagine how it could even do anything anyway, but it seemed like it was, just not enough. I mean, I hear it can be good... Harley supposedly likes it... Ugh. Anyhow, I just want to do things he likes, and I don't know how, and I hate feeling inadequate, I hate feeling like I'm failing, I hate it... I mean, I feel like I used him or something, like I was getting pleasure out of it, which oh Dios I was, I loved it, but I don't like feeling as if I enjoy something so much that I'm doing to him, and he doesn't enjoy it, and I can't just treat him like that....

I don't know. There's gotta be a way to make it up to him. I guess I could do some research... but how? The only people I know who I could ask are Harley and Rasputin, and I don't really feel like talking to either of them about this.... And then there's what, the library? I can just imagine me going up to some prim little old lady librarian and being like, 'Excuse me, ma'am, but I need to know if you have any books that are inappropriate to leave lying around where my little sisters can see them, because I need to know how to pleasure my boyfriend during anal sex, because I don't know how to do it, because I'm the hetero one?' Or what, look it up online and get five million porn sites with men fucking each other? I don't wanna see that... Yeah, what could I even say to Harley? 'Hey Harls, wanna teach me how to fuck Skids? I know you do... I know you just love that idea... I mean, what has Skids been asking you, huh? Has he been telling you how I suck at this... like, literally?' I'm not even going to imagine that... Or going to Rasputin.... I do not need to picture Harley and him together, I do not need that image....

Just then Skids walks back into the room, dumping the damp towel on the floor and crawling onto the bed, lying down with his head on my back.

"I'm sorry, Skids." I try to turn to see him, but can't, since he's directly behind me.

"It's okay, Cy. It's fine."

"No, it's not. I hurt you."

"Only a bit. Not for long at all. I don't mind."

"But it didn't... It didn't work."

"It did too. It felt nice. I was all tingly, in a way I've never been before. It just didn't last long enough."

"That's the point! I made me feel better than I made you feel."

He kisses me softly between my shoulder blades. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I don't want to be the only person liking things. I want to make you feel wonderful, Skids."

"I enjoy anything that makes me feel like we're close. And that made me feel very close to you."

I have to smile at that, but then I sigh. "Skids... querido... I felt close to you, too. Except for the whole failing thing, which makes me feel further away. So I want to do it right, so that it's better, and then I'll feel even closer, if I can make you happier." I move my head enough to kiss his fingers, where he has his hand wrapped around my arm.

"You can do that next time. It doesn't have to be perfect, Cya. I like the fact that we can still lie here and talk even if you don't think it worked out right. I like that more than if it had been perfect. I always wanted it to be perfect, you know, when I used to imagine it, but… Now I don't care about the little details. What matters is that it was you, and it was me, together, and I love you."

He's never said that before. Or rather, he's said it a lot over the past years, but he always just meant as a friend. This is the first time he's said it and meant something quite clearly different by it.

It makes me tremble inside, and I whisper, "I love you, too, Skids."

***

The next day I go over to Harley and Rasputin's place to hang out. Harley answers the door.

"Hey, Cy."

"Hey, Harls." He gestures me in, and I flop down on the sofa.

"How's tricks?" he asks.

I look at him suspiciously. "What'd Skids tell you?" Maybe it was a mistake to think I could just hang here.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Don't play innocent with me..."

"You're paranoid. What are you paranoid and babbling about?"

"I know Skids talks to you about this stuff. He must've told you."

"He doesn't tell me everything, Cyanide." Harley looks a little upset. "You and him spend so much time together, now, without me. And even when I am there, you pay more attention to each other. And you say things, and both laugh, and don't explain it to me. You've got secrets. It makes me lonely." He sits down next to me.

"You know, Harls... I can understand. That's why I didn't like Mikhael when you started going out with him. You moved in with him, and when we wanted you to hang with us, you were like, 'Naw, I'm doin' stuff with Mik.' So I was... jealous, and worried, and..."

Harley looks curious. "Really?"

"Yeah."

We sit in silence for a moment.

Then I say, shocking myself at hearing it, "And I guess I am a little hung up about you and Skids sometimes. He does talk to you about a lot of stuff. And even more... Like when you went shopping with him for... sex supplies. I mean, that's intimate. That's kinda like making out with him or something. It had me jealous."

"That was wonky." Harley replies. "I wanted to help him, and I wanted him to be happy, but... I wasn't so pleased he was doing that for you. I wanted it to be for me. I wanted to use that stuff with him. But I also didn't... I have Mik, I love Mik, I don't ever want to leave Mik, I don't really want anyone else, I don't really want to do anything with Skids, but I do... But I don't..." There's another pause. "You know, about the only thing that could make this situation weirder is if you hooked up with Mik."

"Eww." I stick my tongue out at him. How can he even say something so nasty? I try not to think about it, and say instead, "Or if Skids hooked up with Mikhael." I immediately regret that, and I can tell Harley does too, because he gets this strange twisty look on his face.

"Or if you and I got together." Harley adds.

"Woah. Let's stop this right now."

"Yeah, that's just too weird." Harley agrees. Somehow, though, I feel a little more comfortable around him again. "But what is this thing you think Skids must've told me, anyway?"

I look away at that. Maybe not so comfortable after all. I think I'm blushing. "I..." I look back at him and it all spills out in a rush. "We had sex and I didn't know what to do and it didn't really work and you gotta help me learn."

Harley stares back at me. "What do you mean, didn't really work?"

"You know, it didn't... it didn't work."

Harley stares more. "You mean what, you couldn't get it up?"

"No!" I protest.

"Then what?"

"I can't say this to you, Harley, don't make me say this!"

"Or wait, you fucked Skids and it didn't make him cum?"

I'm definitely blushing now. I look away again. "Yeah." I pause. "Well, I know what to do with a girl, but it's different, I wasn't doing the right stuff, and then, well..."

That's when I hear a noise from the door and turn, and see it's half open and Rasputin is half inside, and he clearly stopped a few seconds ago to listen. Harley looks too.

Rasputin grins at me, the smug bastard. "What's this I hear? Cyanide Torres failed at something? Is this heterosexuality triumphant?"

I bury my face in my hands. "I'm in hell. Someone make this stop."

Harley runs over and hugs his boyfriend. "Mik!"

"Hello, lovely."

I flee before either of them can say anything more to me.

***

A few days later, Skids gives me a present for what he calls our first month's anniversary. I'm not sure I believe that you can even have month anniversaries, and I certainly didn't get him anything, which makes me feel guilty again. The present itself is this absolutely gorgeous pair of wristlets, black leather with black velvet lining on the inside, that cover most of my lower arm. They have adjustable lacings up the inner arm, and a set of silver rings along the outside. They're so very pretty. And they must have been so very expensive.

"Wow! These are ubershibby!" I say to him. "Thank you, querido." He smiles and kisses me. "But they must have cost a lot. I don't want you going broke, especially since I didn't get anything for you."

"Oh, Harley lent me the money." he says chirpily.

I will not, I tell myself, be jealous of Harley every time Skids says his name. Then I realize that probably means that in actuality, Rasputin paid for these, since he finances all of Harley's life.

My first thought is resentment. Means I might have to feel grateful to him. My second thought is well, why not take his money? If you wanna get back at him, making him pay for stuff is fine.

Then the second thought takes the first thought back into a dark alley, kicks its ass, and leaves it lying there. Hey, works for me.

***

Harley sees me wearing the wristlets at band practice the next day, and he asks, "So you like those, Cyan?"

"Definitely. They're really nice."

He gives me a look I can't interpret. What's he thinking? I swear, sometimes I don't understand that boy. But I owe him anyway, and I say so.

"Thanks for spotting Skids the cash, man."

He giggles. "No prob."

Well of course not, I think, your stupid boyfriend's a millionaire...

***

I moan and press my hips into the bed, rubbing my erection across the rough sheet. My arms pull against the cord Skids has produced to go through the rings on my new wristlets. When he looked at me sweetly and explained how if he liked it, I would like it, I couldn't argue against him, because it was true, he had, since the second time when I let him guide it all, and he said he would be slow and gentle and not go too far, and I moan again as he moves his finger inside me. It feels so strange, it feels so alien, it feels so good, and I'm running away from it I'm running toward it I'm just rubbing my cock into the mattress some more.

It's like a strange new place appears inside me, and there's his fingers and oh God I think there's his tongue and everything's melting away except for that. And then it stops and suddenly he's turning my head to look at him, and he says, "Cy, I want to take you."

I'm even harder than I was before, if that's possible, because his eyes are the deepest, darkest pools of desire, and his voice is so low and husky and rough with want of me.

I barely nod, because that's all I can summon up the presence of mind to do, and he kisses me quickly.

Then I'm staring at the pillow again, and there're a few sounds and motions behind me and his body settles in between my legs. His hands clasp against my sides and he's pressing... he's sliding inside me.

It does hurt a bit, but I think, I think, I did the same thing to him and then I hear him whisper my name with a note of such pure pleasure that it all just washes away.

He moves against me, he moves inside me, and it sends a wave of sensation through me. He kisses my neck and nibbles my ear. I can feel him thrusting, pressing, rubbing, his hips pounding against me.

I never imagined anything feeling quite like this, but there are slow pulses of liquid enjoyment building inside me, setting off harmonics all over. Every part of it stems from him; he's the epicenter of this bizarre reaction. I hear myself moaning, incoherent sounds that sometimes seem to form the word yes.

His breath is hot on my back, panting, and his bangs rub my neck. Skids, oh God, Skids is inside me, Skids is fucking me, I feel his cock... He's fucking... He thrusts one more time, and it's like he thrusts to my soul, my dick trapped between my stomach and the bed and I'm coming, my face pressed into the pillow, my arms straining against the cord tying them, I can't move at all because he's pinned inside me, and I gasp for breath as he pumps some more and bites into my shoulder, then I can feel him tense and he cries out.

He lies on top of me for a moment, and I love the feel of his warm chest against my back, his arms around me, and then he pulls away.

He pulls away and he pulls out of me, and I can relax from a tension I wasn't even aware of, relax totally and feel myself rushing back to me. And I miss him already, miss the feeling of him even though he's right there next to me, smiling and beginning to untie my wrists.

***

We're out walking through the park, Skids has his arm linked through mine, and I'm regaling him with a story about foiling one of my sisters' plots against me, when I catch sight of a familiar mane of red hair heading our way. He catches up to us before I can drag Skids off in the other direction.

"So, how're Mikhael and Harley?" he asks, as if he's some friend of ours who has a right to be talking to us, asking us questions. I know he's just doing it to be a meddling bitch, and it grates on me.

I glare at him.

"They're happy." Skids says.

"Without you around." I add.

"Indeed. And probably still ignoring all the problems in their relationship."

Neither of us responds to that. I keep glaring at him. He nods. "Mikhael was always like that. Not that I was ever anything like Harley, of course." He glances down at our arms. "So are you two together? Going from Harley to this one in such a short time. My compliments on the quick work, precious." He says this directly to Skids, with a far too intimate smile.

Before I can get out whatever insult is forming in my mouth, Skids responds, much too gently in my opinion, "I'm sorry you don't have love."

The bastard tilts his head to the side. "What makes you think I want it?" His mouth hitches up knowingly. "Or are you just projecting your own desperate needs on me?"

"Everyone needs love." Skids says calmly.

"No, everyone needs to live their own life true to themselves." The two of them stare at each other a moment longer.

"What if your true self is pathetic?" Skids asks.

"Because you are." I interject. "Puto."

Skids turns to me. "Come on, Cy, let's just get out of here." He pulls me away, and I don't look back. We aren't followed.

***

My mama is a good cook. Every time I go in the kitchen, I think to myself, 'It's simple principles of chemistry. How hard can it be to apply them?' But my skills lie more in the blowing shit up arena than the cooking arena. None of my sisters seem to have gotten any cooking skills, either. But mama is excellent.

So of course Skids says yes when I ask him to have dinner with my family. He always does. But this time there's a little difference. This time, I think I want to let them know about our relationship. But I'm not completely sure how to do it. It scares me, and I've been running over all the ways to do it, and imagining all the things that could happen, all the ways it could go wrong.

I know that my family is cool about Harley and Mikhael, and I know that my mother has no problems with the general idea, but I've told her so many times I'm not interested in any of that myself, that now to turn around and say to her that I'm going out with Skids... I just don't know how to do that.

Mama and all my sisters adore him, at least.

Skids always reassures me when I tell him how I worry over it, but I still don't know what I'm going to say, or how, or even whether I'll manage to do it tonight.

I guess I'll wait and see how it goes.

I manage not to say anything about it during dinner, but I barely manage to get out a word about anything else. Skids, however, keeps the whole conversation going. He's sweet to everyone, and he thinks of subject after subject to talk about. In the rare times when my gaggle of sisters have a lapse in their chatter, that is. He does, however, keep them from ragging on me too much during the meal.

Afterward, while the table is being cleared, he pulls me into the hall by my room.

"Are you going to tell them, Cya? You need to decide soon, you know, if you wanna do it tonight."

I sigh. "I know, querido. And there's a part of me that just wants to shout at my mother whenever I'm around her, 'Skids is my boyfriend now, Mama!' But there's another part that doesn't want to tell her at all."

Just then he lowers his eyebrows and looks over my shoulder. "Umm, Cyanide?"

"What?"

"I think you just told her."

I turn around. Mama has come into the hallway behind us. My heart drops in shear terror.

"You don't need to look so scared, mijo." she says gently. "Why would you be worried about telling me something like that?"

"I... I..." I stammer. "I didn't know what you'd think."

"You're my son. You should trust me to love you. And you should know by now what standards I set for you."

"I don't want to keep secrets from you, Mama..." My heart is still pounding a mile a minute. "I just didn't know what to say."

"Were you afraid of a lecture?" she smiles at me. "Well, here's a lecture. You're nineteen, and you're old enough to make your own decisions, but you should always remember that relationships are a big decision, and shouldn't be made lightly. So take your time, and be careful. And remember to always love your mama."

Skids grins at her.

"And you," she says to him, "you should remember that my son's friends are always welcome in my house."

***

Harley and I are sitting in my room playing, of all things, Candy Land. This is because he wanted to do something silly, and we've raided my sisters' toys. He's here because his boyfriend is watching some basketball game or something. We're playing very slowly and sporadically, and pigging out on chips and candy.

"Thanks for letting me come over, Cya." he says, out of nowhere.

"Why wouldn't I let you come over?"

"Well... I just like spending time with you and Skids when you aren't together. And it seems like you're always together, these days. And like I hardly ever get to see either of you."

"See, I think that Skids and I don't get to spend much time together. There's class, and then I have to spend time with my family, and... But you probably don't want to see the graph I made."

"You may not have much free time, but you do spend almost all of it together."

"Yeah, but..." I trail off.

We sit in silence for a minute. Harley draws a card and moves his piece. He munches on some candy.

"You know what you could do, Cya?"

"What?"

"You could move into the dorm with Skids. 'Cause I know he used to get lonely, sometimes, and you get annoyed at your family, and that way it'd be easier for you to spend more time together, so you might have more time to be with your other friends, too."

"Wouldn't that just make it harder for you to be around us when we weren't together?"

Harley looks up, annoyed. "I'm trying to help you here, don't remind me of the problems!"

"I don't know if my mom would approve. She has this idea that being with Skids makes me not do my school work."

"Are you doing your work?"

"Some of it. I do music, and all the chem stuff. But I guess some of the other stuff does get... overlooked occasionally."

"Does Skids do his work?"

"Of course."

"So then tell your mom that he'll make sure you do yours."

I make my move in the game. "Harley, how'd you get your parents to let you move in with Mikhael?"

"I didn't, really. I just said that he was a friend of mine, that he had a place, that I didn't want to be at home anymore, that I was moving in with him, and I just left. And they didn't even know we were going out. But they figured it out before I told them."

"And they don't really mind?"

"Not really. My dad thinks I'm not enough of an activist."

"Hmm."

"What about your family? How are they dealing with you and Skids?"

"My mom's cool. My sisters made fun of me. But they make fun of me for everything, they're such brats."

"So they're okay with you being bi?"

I stare at him seriously. "I'm not bi, Harley."

"You still think you're the hetero one?"

"I don't like guys, Harls. Just Skids."

"How do you know?"

"How do you know you don't like girls?"

"Eww. Nasty."

I have to roll my eyes at that. "I'm just not at all interested in any guy other than Skids."

"But you've never even done anything with any other guys."

"Hey, Harley, how many guys have you been with?"

"Really only Mik. You know that."

"That's a lot less than the number of girls I've been with. So I think I'm allowed to know that I like girls."

"I didn't say you don't. I'm just saying that until you've tried at least kissing another guy, how do you know you don't like it?"

"Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Yeah. Once. In middle school."

"And what was it like?"

"It didn't really do anything for me. I was thinking, is this all? I thought kissing was supposed to be exciting... And it wasn't."

"So what do you want me to do, huh? Go find some random guy and kiss him so that I learn what I already know? I'm not gonna go around hitting on guys."

Harley shrugs. Then he looks up at me, bangs falling over his huge blue eyes. "You could kiss me."

That really confuses me, and I give him this strange look. "What about your boyfriend?"

"What about yours?"

"You're weird, you know that? Okay, fine, but just to show you you're wrong."

We slowly lean in to each other, until our mouths touch, nothing else. That's when I realize that despite knowing Harley for so long, I don't really know how he kisses. I've never thought about it before. It isn't how I expect, although how I have expectations when I haven't thought about it before confuses me. I guess what I mean is, it isn't like watching him kiss Mikhael. It's different. Larger, somehow. He's fairly small, but he seems to get bigger, wider, more all-encompassing. Wild. I keep expecting him to pull away, and he doesn't, and I keep expecting me to pull away, and I don't, and then we both just drop out of the kiss simultaneously.

"So?" he asks.

"I don't think that was a valid experiment, Harley. You're not quite a neutral control group."

"Which means?"

"Well, I kept wanting you to be Skids."

"I kept wanting you to be Mik."

"And?"

"It felt wrong. And right."

"Yeah." I stop talking, then add, "I still don't think I like guys."

"Well, you like at least one guy. So I guess my side wins, huh?"

"That's not how it works!"

Harley draws a card. "Maybe not. But maybe." He moves his piece.

I make a move as well.

"Do you think you'll still be with Mikhael when you're really old, like, eighty?"

"Dude, I don't want to be eighty."

"But if you were... Would you want to still be with him?"

Harley smiles. "Of course." He moves again. "Would you still want to be with Skids?"

"I don't know. It's weird. I can't really imagine it. I mean, I love him, but..."

"Well, you've only been together a little bit. Give it two or three more years."

"That's hard to imagine, too. And... I guess I also get kind of depressed at the thought of spending my life without ever getting laid with a chick again."

Harley rolls his eyes at that.

"It's not funny, Harls. Just cause you don't understand..."

"No, I don't. I have my boyfriend, and I'm perfectly happy with him."

"And you never, ever, ever wanted to be with anyone else? You never, ever felt like you were missing out on anything?"

We stare at each other, like a contest. "I'm very happy being with Mik, and I'd be very unhappy if I weren't with him."

"That's it?"

"And I guess there are other people who could make me happy, too. But that doesn't mean I want to switch things around."

I move my game piece again.

"You should move in with Skids." he adds.

"You know, for someone who says he doesn't want us to be together, you sure seem to get off on hooking us up."

***

That evening I go over to Skids' dorm, and while we're lazing about on his bed I tell him that Harley was trying to convince me to move in with him.

"Oh, that would be so shibby!" he responds. He grins at me. "I'd like that."

I'm thinking I might like it, too, and I say so. He's leaning against me, and I have my arm around him, and at that statement he kisses my palm.

"Although, he was also trying to convince me I'm bi, and I didn't like that part as much." Skids is nibbling on my fingers now. He pauses to look up and answer me.

"Really? What'd he say?" He goes back to licking along the sides of my fingers.

"Well, he was going on about how..." It's a little hard for me to remember exactly what Harley said, now, with Skids distracting me by very lightly running his tongue all over my hand. "Anyhow, I told him I didn't actually like guys, just you."

"I don't like guys either. Or girls. I like specific people." Skids whispers this against my palm, his breath warm and soft.

"So then we..." I realize what I'm about to say, and I get all nervous, because maybe, I think, he could be upset. But I decide I have to tell him. "I kissed him. To prove I don't like guys."

"Oh?" he asks, nipping at the web of my thumb. "What was it like?"

"He's really... absorbing."

"What do you mean?" He asks that, and then swallows my whole finger, sucking on it tantalizingly. I shiver.

"It was big. Like the whole world. Like I could have disappeared into it."

He stops sucking long enough to add, "So you enjoyed it?"

"I don't know. Kinda. Maybe. But I don't like him. And," I add firmly, "I don't like guys."

"Just me." he says brightly, softly scraping his teeth across my skin.

"Yeah." I gasp. "I definitely like you."

"You'd rather kiss me than Harley." He closes his mouth over my wrist.

"Much rather. I'd rather kiss you than anyone."

"Because you love me."

"I love you completely." His lips are dancing across my skin.

"And you want to move in with me."

"I'd like to try." His teeth are a symphony.

"Could I be the whole world?"

"The best thing in it." His tongue is poetry.

He rolls over on top of me, and lowers his mouth to mine. A micro-fraction of an inch before our lips touch, he whispers, "Cya... show me, tell me..."

"Querido..." I breathe, and he kisses me.

***

I'm not gay. I'm not bi. I don't like guys. I'm straight. I'm the hetero one. I like girls. Still do. Always have, always will. Breasts? I really like breasts. They're wonderful, amazing things. Pussy? I like pussy. I definitely like it. I like everything about girl's bodies.

I don't like guys. I don't walk down the street noticing boys and thinking they're cute, not like I do with girls. I imagine a guy naked... Doesn't do anything for me. It's not gross; I like my own body enough not to find it disgusting. But it doesn't turn me on. A hard cock? That's not anything I fantasize about.

So why do I have a boyfriend? That's different. Because it's Skids. I like who he is as a person, and my liking for him somehow, slowly, became sexual. And yes, it is sexual. I lust for him. He turns me on. I do things with him I never thought I would do, and I like it, because it's him.

I never really had a girlfriend. I liked girls, I dated girls, I had sex with girls. But I never had a girl I was really involved with, not the way I'm involved with Skids.

What I feel for Skids, it's not just friendship. It's not just sex. It's love. I love him.

Maybe it won't last forever. Maybe when it's gone, I'll have lost someone I've known since I was nine, one of my best friends ever. But you know what? It's worth it. I'm glad I had this chance, this chance to be with him, this chance to love him, this chance to have him love me back. This is much better than when I was living in fear and pain, never knowing what he thought, and always wanting something I was worried to actually get.

This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Having him as my boyfriend. And I don't give a fuck if it makes other people decide I'm queer, or crazy, or what.

Because I'm not. He's wonderful, and there's nothing queer or crazy at all about loving him. Loving him is the most natural thing in the world.

Because he's the most beautiful thing in the world.

***

The End.