Author:Vera

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Harley inspires Skids. Cyanide and Mikhael to a good deed. Sort of.

Disclaimer: I do not own the boys. They are the creation of Sandra Delete. I borrow them to entertain myself.

Archive: Sure.

Feedback: Much desired.

Harley came with the high pitched keen that always signaled his completion. His body quacked and he fell back, boneless, to the mattress while his lover continued to pound into his body. Seven hard, long strokes later, the larger man pushed in deeper then before and shuddered to a halt. Before he allowed himself to fall, he eased gently out of the lithe body beneath him, removed the condom and tossed it into a nearby garbage. The he fell back into bed with the blonde. The two clasped hands, but remained apart on the bed, their bodies mindful of the unusually warm day.

"Feeling anymore inspired?" The blonde inquired without moving.

**

Harley had come home, loaded down with groceries. Usually it was Skids, who would awaken earlier on Saturday morning to shop for necessities like food and toilet paper. But Skids' was hard at work on a new project and for once, Harley decided to get everything himself.

The morning had been surprisingly warm for the middle of winter and that had made the task much more pleasant. Feeling a bit domestic, he even bought Windex, thinking he might be motivated enough to clean a window or at the very least, make Skids laugh by pretending that he might be motivated enough do so.

He whirled around the kitchen, putting groceries and singing to himself some 80s tune that had been playing softly in the store. Idly, he made plans for the day. There was a paper to be finished for Monday, but he could do that mostly tonight and tomorrow. It seemed a shame to waste such a nice day. Maybe if Skids was finished they could go out and do something...

On that thought, he pivoted on his heels and went to see how the new project was coming. The studio door was open, so he could slip in on cat feet just to peek over Skids' shoulders.

"Uh...." He said into the quiet. "It's blank."

Skids turned in surprise and flashed his boyfriend a small sad smile.

"Yeah, I'm stuck."

The painting was supposed to be for a contest in a few weeks, in honor of the late curator of a local gallery. The theme was Gay Pride and any artists of any age and media from the area could enter. It would be a great opportunity to get works seen by some important people and maybe even sell a piece.

"Do you need a little inspiration?"

Gratefully, Skids stood and opened his arms. They kissed deeply and Skids let his hands glide to the small of Harley's back.

"Any ideas?" The blonde asked, breathlessly.

"I think I might need a lot more inspiration." Skids told him earnestly.

***

Skids sat up slightly to fully enjoy the sight of his lover, spent and debauched against the white sheets. One arm over his stomach, the other next to him and holding tightly to Skids' hand. Pale skin was tinged with rose and his eyes were at half mast, his breathing slow.

"Don't move." Was the harsh command and within seconds there was a void where Skids had been.

A minute later and there was a dip in the bed and the feel of wet paint gliding across his skin. So deep was he in post-coital oblivion that he didn't protest, even as the brush tickled his sensitive stomach. He drifted off for a while, aware of a distant rustling sound and the feel of dry crackling paint on his belly and chest. A flash of light roused him somewhat, but the command came again,

"Don't move."

So he didn't and after a few more flashes the bed dipped again and he was cuddling against a warm body.

**

"Come on, Mik. You can leave it for now, no one's going to steal it." There was a pause and the Russian seemed almost about to move. Cyanide growled impatiently. "I'm going to see Skids' painting whether or not you come with me. And I'll bet he isn't lurking by his entry like a dog."

"You're a brat." Mik caved, trailing after the impatient Latino.

"I wouldn't have to be, if you did things the first time I asked you."

"It's a contest, Cya. You never know what people are going to rip off!"

"Come off it, Mik. There's no way......Holy shit."

There was a modest crowd gathered around the entry place that had been marked for Skids', but Mik and Cya, even standing a few feet away, had a fairly good view. A black and white photograph that was about six by five feet graced the wall. An almost life size photo of a man in repose. Standing out in color on the graceful gray shades of the body was a large purple triangle, outlined in a messy thick black line. Over the chest, next to a nipple was a red heart within which something was written in delicate calligraphy.

"Giovanni Dianglo's." Mik mouthed to himself. He was unable to take his eye's away from the nude photo of his friend and had the uncomfortable fear that he was starting to drool. He checked himself quickly, glancing at his lover out of the corner of his eye, but found that Cyanide was just as enchanted.

"How much do you think they're selling it for?" Cya said finally, licking his lips. "I think it would look good in the living room."

"What?!" Mk stared down at the dark haired man. "Are you insane?!"

A slender eyebrow lifted.

"It was a joke, Mik." The Russian subsided, relaxing slightly. "Actually, I have a better idea."

Cya raised on tiptoes and whispered into his boyfriend's ear. A grin spread over Mik's face.

"You are one devious man, Cyanide Torres."

"It's a passion."

"And you're mine."

And sometimes dark skin can still show a blush.

***

Skids' photo won second prize. First went to a sculpture of two woman in the Garden of Eden tying the snake into a knot. Mik's painting was an honorable mention, but he was to distracted by his and Cya's plan to care.

***

"I can't believe you got second!" Harley bounced as he fumbled for the key to the apartment. They had been out celebrating most of the night which had mostly been sitting in a coffee shop with some other artists, then moving to a bar for a few drinks. They were coming home buzzed from caffeine and alcohol.

"I wish I knew who bought the photo at least." Skids mused. "They sent a messenger to pick it up. I'd kinda like to know who's getting to see your naked body, besides me."

Harley shrugged, jamming the key into the lock.

"Yeah, it is a little weird knowing someone else is staring at me and we don't know who."

Skids put a hand on Harley's shoulder.

"You said it was okay if I sold it."

"It was. It is. It's just weird."

The door opened to a light filled apartment. Which was strange since neither of them ever left the lights on.

And one of the walls that had been formerly blank was now dominated with a fairly large photo/painting with the second prize ribbon still attached. An envelope was attached to the frame.

"Uhhh...okay. Officially the strangest thing that's happened to us in a long time. What'd they do? Break, enter and not steal?"

Skids plucked up the envelope and took out a short letter.

"Huh." He passed it to Harley.

"Guys, Thought you might like this back. Wanted to own it for a few minutes. -Cyanide and Mikhael. P.S. Your landlady oopened the door for us. She seems nice. Got any vacancy's?" Harley stared at the note a little longer. "Huh."

"Yeah. That was.....nice of them."

"There aren't any weird stains on it, are there?" They both scrutinized the painting, then glanced at each other, suddenly aware of the absurdity of the whole situation.

"Come on. Let's go to bed. We'll move it to your studio tomorrow." Skids suggested.

"Mmmm. Bed."

For once, they went to sleep pretty much right away, cuddling underneath the sheets.

***

Across town, Mik threw his undershirt into the hamper and switched off the lamp. Cya watched him slide into bed, their eyes adjusting to the dark.

"We did a good thing." Mik said softly. "Right?"

"Yeah."

There was the usual tussle for blankets until they found a reasonable compromise. Just as Cya was drifting to sleep, a rumble shifted through the chest he had laid his head on.

"You don't think they'll notice the stains, right?"