Fanfic: The Power Of Creativity (1/1)

[smokingmirror]

Title: The Power Of Creativity
Author: Avarice
Rating: R
Pairing: Cyanide/Skids
Spoilers: -
Summary: Skids likes colours. Skids has crayons. Cya has a key to Skids' dorm.
Word Count: 2952
Date First Posted: 2001
Date Revised: 21-05-2011
Beta: Sandra
Awards: -
Notes: My very first BMB fic, and I'm fairly certain this one predates me even owning a LJ :) I was really into Cy/Skids (as were most people on earth) early on in the piece, but once Tybalt started rearing his head into the scenario, I left these guys behind. Liek whoa. Sorry, boys :)
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

Peel. Snap. Crumble.

One after the other, shaky fingers extracted the brightly coloured sticks from their box. With practiced ease, fingernails tore off the paper housing and snapped the waxy stalk in half. From there, it was systematically crumbled as much as possible.

Then there was the pause -- the moment of pure indecision as to where to add this newest treasure. A smile was brought to bear as the waxy Unmellow Yellow flakes were smeared carefully from the top of his left shoulder and down along his arm.

Peel. Snap. Crumble.

A bubble of laughter escaped Skids' throat as he added Prussian Blue to the mix. The colours appeared in straight, vibrant slashes across his body.

He looked down and his eyes danced with the reflected colour of the crushed crayons. The bright hues were mesmerising. It was almost as good as something really, really shiny.

"This is almost as good as something really, really shiny," he muttered to himself, rubbing a line of Aquamarine over the bridge of his nose. Eager for more, Skids dumped the contents of the box of crayons on the floor, searching for a new colour.

He sifted through, eyes locking onto Vivid Tangerine. "Cool," he breathed, tearing the paper off. It soon leant its vibrancy to decorating his body. He wiped a trail down his side, fingers catching on the jockey shorts he wore.

Skids blushed slightly at the image of him getting naked to do this, and -- not for the first time -- was glad his dorm was quiet and the door shut. Locked, even.

In fact, to get technical, the only other person who had a key was-

"Whoa."

-standing there with a shocked look on his face.

Skids' face flushed the same colour as the Hot Magenta that also stained the side of his neck, and blended in quite nicely. He could only imagine what this must've looked like to his best friend.

Although if he read Cyanide's face right, it was mildly arousing, apparently.

Cy licked instantly parched lips and racked his brain for something to say.

"Nice green," was the first thing that popped to mind.

"It's Electric Lime," Skids murmured, his eyes looking down to where that particular crayon was smeared across the toned ridges of his stomach. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet Cya's eyes.

"Well, it tones in nicely with the other colours," Cy replied, taking a few steps forward, smiling when the corner of Skids' mouth turned up. The punk surveyed the floor. "Dude, were you gonna go through all of these crayons?"

Skids nodded, idly rubbing his finger over his chest where a patch of Orchid met Violet Red. His eyes began to shine as the division between the two hues blurred and began making a new colour.

"Shibby," he breathed, as a vibrant purple was born. He looked up at Cy who seemed to have a bit of trouble swallowing.

"That's pretty cool," he croaked out, sitting beside Skids on the floor.

"I wonder what else I can make?!" Skids exclaimed, looking for two more compatible colours.

"How about these two?" Cy suggested, pointing to the Olive Green and Salmon. Skids screwed up his face.

"Naw, it'll go gross. We need a new colour." He gazed seriously at the pile, before choosing Periwinkle to mix in with the Salmon, creating a bright pastel blue.

Cy nodded approvingly, picking up Fuschia. "How about this one?"

Skids smiled brightly at his friend's willingness to help.

"Mmm... Probably here." Skids pointed to some bare skin next to a patch of Neon Carrot on his side up near the right shoulder. Cya peeled off the paper with painted fingernails, trying not to focus on Skids' bare, colourful body too much.

After a few tries he got the paper off and snapped the crayon in half. Using the heels of his hands, he ground it up as best he could, before showing it to Skids, who nodded.

"That's good, but... um..." the stain crept up his cheeks once again, and his eyes lowered.

"But...?" Prompted Cy, wondering what the hell was preventing the smearing of this colour on that beautiful body.

"I can't reach it properly," Skids mumbled, reaching his left arm up. Sure enough, his fingers barely grazed the edge of bare skin he referred to.

"Well, I can rub it on for you," Cyanide managed to say after swallowing his tongue. "No big deal."

The blinding smile Skids gave him promptly proved it was a big deal, though.

Cya rubbed his hands together, coating them with the crumbled Fuschia crayon. Ever so slowly, he reached out and touched Skids' skin.

Skids didn't flinch away as his friend quite gently rubbed the pigment onto his skin. Rather, he stared in rapt fascination as the two colours merged under Cy's fingers. He giggled when they brushed over a ticklish rib.

Cy smirked and sat back. "How is it?"

Skids looked over his shoulder at the psychedelic pinky colour that had been created.

"Shibby," he grinned. "What should we name it?"

"Name?"

"Yeah! We've created an entirely new colour, it needs a freaky name."

"Well..." Cy looked thoughtful. "Remember that time in the 6th grade Harley ate two bags of Doritos and drank a whole pitcher of cherry Kool Aid and yakked on your mom's rug? It kind of looks like that."

Skids made a face. "Duude..." he grinned, "you're totally right. 'Technicolour Yawn' it is." Cy and Skids burst into fits of laughter.

"Let's make another one!" The be-crayola'd boy said excitedly. He grabbed Pacific Blue and looked for a colour that would blend nicely. Cya pointed to an area of Peach on his stomach.

Peel. Snap. Crumble.

Under Skids' fingers the two shades merged together to create a light violet.

"Mauvelous," Cya said drily, before once again laughing raucously with his friend. He picked up a new crayon, but Skids stopped him.

"Can't start on another one until you get the old one off your hands. They'll contaminate each other,” he said, nodding sagely.

Cya looked around for somewhere to wipe his hands. Finding nothing in easy reach, he wiped his hands on his own bare torso, creating colourful finger-streaks over his belly. Skids began to giggle.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Dude, that's so not your colour," he replied, chuckling insanely.

"Is that so..." Cya's eyebrow quirked wickedly. He surreptitiously grabbed Raw Sienna, which had already been divested of its paper and crushed it quickly. "How d'you like this then?" He lashed out, catching Skids across the jaw. Skids now sported a rusty coloured strip on his face.

"Hey!" Skids drew his own hand across his torso, coating it in a miasma of different colours, and slashed Cy across the chest.

Cy looked down in indignation at his very cool dragon tattoo that now looked like it had a long jaunty moustache. Either that or its nose was running mid-flight.

With a kamikaze yell, he launched himself at Skids, arms outstretched.

Skids let out a startled yelp as his back hit the ground. Cya attacked him mercilessly, digging fingers into his most ticklish places and leaving rusty coloured prints all over his torso.

Writhing like a stuck pig (squealing like one, too), Skids fought desperately, but with his hips pinned by Cy's thighs, he didn't have much freedom of movement. His attacker tapered off the assault, leaving Skids a giggling, quivering, colourful mass.

Cya looked down at his best friend's smiling face and felt a pang right in his stomach. How had no one else discovered how fucking gorgeous Skids was before? Their loss, he kept telling himself.

The other thing he kept telling himself, though, was

My gain.

With that thought, his hands automatically changed their movements. Black-tipped fingers glided smoothly over the flat planes of Skids' torso. They caressed the ticklish spots but not with the intent they had before.

Skids opened his eyes and looked up, a delightfully surprised expression on his face. Cya just smiled.

"If there's a better way to blend colours, I haven't found it," he commented, voice slightly more gravelly than normal. Skids could only nod. He was hyper-sensitive when it came to being touched, especially when Cya seemed to know all the right places to do it.

Fingers danced their way up over his collar bone, up the side of his neck and cupped his face. Cyanide leant down and brushed his lips across Skids' as a tentative enquiry. With breathy little sigh, Skids acquiesced, opening his mouth to allow his friend access.

With skill borne of much practice, Cy thrust his tongue into Skids' mouth, charting its moist depths, and coaxed Skids' tongue into play. Considering Cy was the only one who ever really kissed Skids, he was remarkably good. Hands tentatively crept up the punk's back, and rested lightly on the back of his shoulder blades.

The kiss deepened, but as soon as Skids made little whimpers in the back of his throat, Cya pulled up, eyes laden with desire as he remembered the last words he uttered.

"I think I just thought of a better way...." With that, he lay down flush on top of his friend, so that they were pressed together from groin to chest.

Skids shut his eyes tight and tried very hard to neither giggle idiotically nor groan in pleasure as Cy began moving sensuously back and forth, like a snake. The waxy residue of crayons that covered most of the brown-haired man's chest created for exquisite sliding. Somehow, the synthetic nature of the crayons also seemed to make the friction produce heat as well. Cya planted a line of kisses down Skids' jaw, loving his friend's blissful face.

After a few moments of prolonged intense colour mixing, Cya sat back on his haunches, still straddling Skids' thighs, to let the colour-junkie see the results. Skids sat up on his elbows so he could see properly. His eyes widened at the melting pot of bright colour that merged together on both his and Cy's body's.

The best thing, however, was the mark that the erotic serpentine movements had left. A snake-like swirl ran through the pigments on both chests.

Cya leant down, warm breath tickling the hairs at the base of Skid's neck. "What d'you think we should call this colour?" he asked huskily.

"Something cool," Skids muttered, resisting the urge to shiver, "like... Cobra's Dance, or Dragon's Tail..." his soft voice tapered off. "Something like that."

Cya chuckled, darting his tongue out over the rim of Skids' ear. "I like it," he hissed. He raked his teeth down the side of the exposed neck, sitting up to run his hands more freely down the beautifully coloured body underneath him, aiming for the spots where contact was sure to bring a little gasp or tiny whimper.

Cy looked down at his own chest, swirling with colours. The latino's brow creased slightly as some Maroon came close to touching the waistband of his precious jeans. He began to unbutton them, neither willing to give up his activities, nor allow his favourite clothing to be ruined.

Hooking his thumbs into the waistbands of both the jeans and his underwear, he stood and pulled them both off, before sitting down next to Skids. The brunette looked up at him, mildly surprised. Not shocked though. He'd known Cya since they were both 6, and been friends since the 5th grade. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, by any means.

"I'm thinking we try to make a new colour, now that I can't fuck up my clothes," Cya said conversationally, glancing at Skids from the corner of his eye while perusing the dwindling pile of crayons on the floor.

"Okay," Skids sat up a little and watched his friend make the choice. Cya's hand hovered over Mulberry, then Copper, then Burnt Sienna before finally coming to rest on his chosen hue.

"Which one is it?" Skids asked, his curiosity piqued to blushing point as Cya crumbled the crayon like an expert and rubbed it on his own stomach... then lower to the sharp angles of his hips, then lower to-

"Wild Strawberry," Cya answered, his smooth voice dropping to a harsh whisper as his hands worked spreading the colour around.

Skids' breath caught in his throat, and he was unable to tear his eyes away from Cya's hands as they stroked their owner to fullness. He was finally able to meet Cy's eyes when their heavy-lidded gaze turned to him. One of those hands that had been so busy just moments ago, reached out and raked lines across Skids' stomach, leaving stripes of scarlet colour in its wake.

The punk's other hand joined the first on its downward journey, to be hindered by Skids' jockey shorts, which were tenting uncomfortably.

"Don't want your clothes to get dirty, too, now do you?" Cya asked. He chuckled when he received a mute shake of the head in response. Quickly and economically, he pulled them down over Skids' hips, silently approving the way his friend had lifted them up off the ground to make their removal easier.

Cyanide's eyes trailed down from flushed cheeks, full parched lips, to the colourful chest that was rapidly going up and down. Placing a hand on Skids' chest, he felt his friend's rapid heartbeat thump out a punishing rhythm. Reaching up, he brushed a thumb across Skids' lower lip.

"Relax," he whispered, drawing out the last syllable into a soft hiss.

Skids attempted to calm his breathing, which wasn't helped by Cya tracing his hands down, circling lazily around taut nipples, running over ridges of his toned stomach, coming to rest on the sharp angles of his obliques.

He almost let out an unhappy sigh when the latino's hands completely left his body, and he turned away. Disappointment replaced his anticipation, but it returned full-force when Cya turned back, showing Skids exactly what he'd been doing.

"Goldenrod," Cya grinned, naming the hue he'd chosen. With hands coated entirely in a new colour, he made sharp lines criss-crossing over Skids' hips, and over his thighs, before caressing the brunette's lap.

Skids squeezed his eyes shut as Cya expertly stroked his cock. He could feel the waxy crayon flakes stick to his sensitive skin, making his toes tingle. His lower belly felt like it was on fire, there was a pleasurably painful weight there that made him want to scream.

Cya stroked Skids tenderly, knowing exactly where to apply the right amount of pressure to make his friend squirm. When Skids began to make little whimpering noises, Cy knew it was time to step up the crayon's carnal involvement.

Flinging one leg over Skids' hips, Cya straddled his thighs once again. The brunette opened his eyes to look up at his friend who had a deliciously wicked smirk on his face.

Then he realised why. Thrusting his hips forward, Cya's erection came into tantalising contact with Skids' own.

"Dios," Cy muttered thickly, bracing his hands on either side of Skids' torso.

Skids wasn't able to stop himself from lifting his hips off the ground to meet Cya's. He ached for the sublime contact. The fire in his belly was stoked each time Cya touched him. His breathing was restricted to vast gasps for air, face flaming with lust and embarrassment.

Cya set a demanding rhythm, which Skids kept up with little effort. Their waxy crayon-covered lengths rubbed sensuously up against each other, creating a heated friction. Skids' reached up and clamped his hands around Cy's shoulders. Cya dropped down from propping himself with his hands, to leaning on elbows.

Now, with their stomachs brought back into delightful contact with each other, the punk was close enough to observe his friend's face from a few inches away. Skids' face was moist with sweat, hazel eyes open wide, but the didn't look as if they were focusing on anything in particular. He expelled short sharp bursts of air from pale pink lips. Cya licked his own, knowing neither of them could hold out much longer.

Deciding to end Skids' agony (and his own), he thrust forward with his hips, pinning Skids to the ground. Reaching a hand between them, Cya grabbed both of their dicks, simultaneously covering Skids' mouth with his own in a voracious kiss.

Skids had hit his personal sensory limits about two crayons back. This was too much. With a muffled cry, the searing pain in his belly found release. Cya stayed with him, riding on Skids' waves of pleasure to his own climax.

The kiss that had been so desperate and passionate only a moment ago faded to a sweet joining of mouths. Cya pulled back from Skids' moist lips, propping himself up with his hands once again, surveying the waxy, sticky mess that was the two of them.

Skids waited until his heartbeat stopped sounding like he had Drummer's Epilepsy before he opened his eyes. Cya watched his face intently; looking for any sign his best friend might feel too embarrassed or ashamed over what had happened.

"Wh.. what colour is this?" Skids asked once he'd regained use of his lungs and vocal chords.

"I like to call it 'Spent Passion'." Cya breathed, chest covered in a fine film of perspiration.

"Dude," Skids whispered. After a moment's silence, he spoke up again. "Can we make a new batch?"

Cya chuckled -- relieved -- and planted a firm kiss on Skids' lips. "Ultrashibby," he murmured, looking into the delighted depths of Skid's eyes. Cya grinned as he bent to steal another kiss, planning to write a glowing letter to Crayola on their motto:

The Power of Creativity.

~finis

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