*He'd hate me if he knew.* Cyanide took another pull at his beer, and stared at his best friend. Skids was smiling as usual, amused at the world in general, laughing with Harley. Maybe that was all it was - just Skid's pure joy in life. Skids was everything good, everything lovely. Everything hot and sexy.
He remembered how Skids' sleeping mouth had tasted all those months ago, how it felt warm and soft against his lips. How safe he'd felt wrapped in Skids' arms. How right it had felt New Year's Eve.
But that was only a joke.
Skids liked jokes. He was flirting with Harley now, making silly faces and batting his eyelashes, and Harley, who was practically *married* to Mik, was flirting back while that damned Russian glowered at both of them.
Cyanide wished he could glower, but what would be the point? Only Mik would know, and Mik didn't matter. Oh, God, Skids was looking at him with that smile. He found himself smiling back because that was the only thing anyone could do when Skids looked at him. And Harley was looking at Mik, and there was so much love in his face.
Cya took another drink and wondered if he would ever be able to look at anyone like that. Not too likely, given that he was wasting his time being in love with another guy, no matter how lovely and shibby and wonderful the guy was. He didn't even *like* guys. He liked girls. He was *straight*, except that no girl was Skids and so he didn't bother with them anymore.
Oh, God, they were kissing. Again. How would it be to kiss Skids? Heck, if he was going to imagine things, what if Skids kissed *him*? Wrapped his arms around him, pressed that so lovely body against his? Leaned him back...tossed him to the bed. Touched him.
If Skids wanted to touch him, Cyanide would let him do whatever he wanted. *Whatever* he wanted. He knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn't want that, but it would be okay with Skids.
Except. Skids would hate him if he knew.