Cyanide hated being dependant. Even if it was on his lover. And the past few weeks all he had done was rely on Mik's strength. But the worst had past now. Vince had been buried for nearly two weeks and it was time to attempt to get back to normal. Besides, this was just going to be fun.

He regarded himself in the full length mirror that hung on the bathroom door. Hells yah. He was hot shit. Black leather pants so tight there was no room for underwear, a thin gauzy black shirt that was easily see through and a spiked dog color. Zero gel, his hair free floated down, some of it grazing his shoulders. Thick thick black kohl graced his eyes.

"Enough of this." He scolded himself. He had to get the apartment ready.

***

Long long day. Mik sighed wearily as he trudged up the stairs. He'd had to meet with an art dealer nearly three hours away. The deal didn't go through and now he just wanted to go into the apartment and curl up in bed, waiting for Cyanide to drift in. The Latino had been coming home late with the double work load as they had yet to fill Vince's spot. Vince. Mik felt a tug at his heart, never had he seen his lover rendered so vulnerable and it was beginning to scare him.

So deep in thought that it took him nearly three seconds to realize that not only was the apartment completely dark, even though it was only four in the afternoon, but that soft silbant music was playing in the background.

A misty light turned on and fell over a shadowy figure, perched on a stool, singing softly with the music,

"So messed up/ I want you here/In my room." Cyanide sang softly, in a low caressing voice. Mik stared unbelievingly at him. "I want you here/Now we're gonna be/Face to face/And I'll lay right down/In my favorite place."

"Cya?" But the Latino was fully in the trance he had wove and taking the time pause in the music, he slithered to the floor, crawling on all fours, so that Mik could see every muscle rolling against each other, even in the dim light of the room.

"And now I wanna/Be your dog/Now I wanna/Be your dog" Reaching Mik's feet, he threw himself to the floor belly up and began to write, lifting up his hips and sliding hands suggestively over his shirt and the evident bulge in the leather pants. "Now I wanna/Be your dog. Well c'mon!'

The music faded out, but Cyanide stayed right where he was, heated eyes boring holes into Mikhael's forehead. The Russian dropped to floor, tossing jacket aside. In an instant, the limber younger body surged up to meet him and before long they were tussling on the floor, Mik working hard at the stiff buttons of the shirt.

"Rip it." Cya finally snarled and Mik rushed to comply, shredding the thing until he could trace the fine lines of his lover's chest without hinderance. With his toungue.

The floor was leaving uncomfortable burns on his forearms and without thinking, Mik stood, scooping Cya off the floor and carrying him into the bedroom. There was no protest from the quivering man in his arms. He dumped him without ceremony unto the bed and thrust himself between the wantonly spread legs. Long artist fingers mad quick work of the leather pants, tossing them aside. Cyanide sighed with relief as his erection was freed. With little preamble, Mik took it his mouth, humming the haunting tune softly. Under these ministrations, Cyanide wasn't quiet, thrashing in reminiscent of his recent dance.

Feeling that his lover was close, Mik stopped, standing up to shuck away the last of his clothes, all the while keeping searing eye contact with dilated brown.

"Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me." Cya moaned out without even a beat of hesitation.

"Since you asked nicely." The Russian leaned over to reach the coffee table, but a hand on his chest stopped him. A condom pressed against his chest. "Lube?"

espresso cheeks reddened. Curious, Mik let his hand trailed down...and found his lover already wet.

"You prepared yourself for me?"

Embarrassment prepared to overwhelm the younger man, so Mik drew him into another heated kiss, making words useless. Instead, they spoke with their bodies. Together they shifted, moving with the ease of practice, giving Mik access to the tight wet heat of the younger man's flesh. Slowly, he pressed in and when they came flush together....there was that pause. The tiny little pause, that no matter how violent their coupling, they always made. It was the moment of complete togetherness. And then slowly, Mik began to pull out, before slamming back home again and careful angle. Long black nails raked his skin as he set a demanding pace that Cyanide easily kept. They were frenzied with frustrated passions, uncaring of the world around them. Screams ripped from Cya's throat as he came hard, Mik's hand wrapped around him, but the sound that came from Mik as he followed a minute later were subsonic. A deep low groan of complete fulfillment.

Now I'm ready

To close my eyes

And now I'm ready

To close my mind

And now I'm ready

To feel your hand

And lose my heart

On the burning sands

And now I wanna

Be your dog

Now I wanna

Be your dog

Now I wanna

Be your dog

Well c'mon