This story is the
aforementioned story of a love been Leone (who has no story
currently) and Konstantin (who occasionally stars in Hard Candy). It
starts out due to drugs and waking up, so first off it's pretty
groggy at first, and second Leone talks a lot rather than thinks a
lot; whereas Konstantin narrated chapters involve a lot of thinking
and not-so-many verbal words. Italics may be emphasis or another
language (only for Konstantin. Leone doesn't speak any other
We hope you enjoy our little comedy of sorts!
By Venustas iaceo and kyriaasimi
Leone Cheshire's Point of View:
I think I got laid last night. Maybe. This doesn't feel like my bed. This doesn't feel like a hotel bed, either. It's too comfy. This is just weird. I don't get laid! I definitely don't think I'd forget getting laid, but I'm pretty sure that's a leg inbetween mine right now, and my arm isn't exactly laying on sheets. I think my ass hurts, so I try to sit up. Yeah, my ass definitely hurts. There is the question of 'why?', though I think the fact that I believe that leg belongs to another boy could explain it. This is definitely not my average wake up call. I don't get laid, and the last time I checked I don't get laid by boys.
I lift up the blanket and I realize, yes, this is definitely strange because that is definitely a boy. I put the sheet back down and realize that I am, in fact, in bed, naked, with a boy I know. I was pretty sure he didn't get laid by boys either. I think we have a problem here. I should really want to move right now. I don't. I should be rather bothered by the fact that my legs are being pinned down by another boy's, and I don't think it's just because I'm in pain that I don't want to move. Oh.
I'm also not sure if I should wake him up because I'm pretty sure this is illegal in his country. Yeah, I'm pretty sure you can get killed for something like this. Then again, we technically live in the south. I'm pretty sure we can get killed anyways. That whole mafia thing could help, or maybe it couldn't, depending on which one. I know my family wouldn't care, that whole being ran by a teenage lesbian thing, but his might. The Russians are a bit old fashioned that way.
I really don't think it's good that I forgot last night. I really don't think what my good friend here gave me last night was sugar like he said it was. It was small and white like sugar, that's about where the similarities ended. It made me happy, though. No one gets that happy over sugar, not even people whose diet might consist of pancakes and vodka if he had his way.
I really should wake him up now. I nudge him in attempt to wake him up. "Uhm, Konstantin, you really should wake up, and more importantly you really should move your leg." He starts to move his leg, but in the completely wrong direction, not that I'm complaining. I'm complaining about not complaining, I guess, because I think I should be complaining because his leg does not need to go there. "No, no, no, Konstantin! The other way!"
"Hm, what?" he says. His eyes look sad. Wait, I can see his eyes. I wonder where his sunglasses went, and then I realize, probably the same place as his pants, wherever that is.
"Your leg, Konstantin, it needs to be moved."
"Oh. Sorry." He just kind of stares at me, which doesn't really make the situation any better at all. As a matter of fact, it only makes the situation worse, only not really because nothing really changed at all. Maybe it is the nothing changing at all that actually is the problem because I don't mind that nothing changed at all except for the fact that I really should get up and put my pants on. Except for, not wanting to put the pants on might be a problem too. Hm. Pants.
He seems to suddenly realize what I realized when I woke up, and he starts to move away but he stops. Why in the world did he stop? His face is, as a matter of fact, closer. This is not what I was going for at all, not that I'm complaining but – I think he's blushing, or there's some other reason his cheeks have become a very funny red color.
"Uh, Leo? I'm trying to move, but… your arm…" He points at the arm that I was unaware, up until this point, belonged to me. The rest of me realizes all at once that my hand seems to be griping his ass. He gives me the kind of smile that I get when I'm afraid that my cousin, Zaq, is going to kill me. Nobody can get that kind of smile around me, I haven't kill anyone, except that one guy when I was sixteen with that firework on the Fourth of July but that was a complete and total accident. Konstantin's still giving me that look. Oh yeah. My arm.
I peel my fingers away from his skin, and I'm surprised to realize that it feels like my hand has been there a very long time. The theory is pretty much confirmed by the pink lines about the size of my fingers on his skin. He winces a bit and actually rolls closer to me to get away from my hand. His face ends up about two inches away from mine, which is way, way too close to mine by like a foot. I have this urge to just move forward but I catch myself trying to do it before forcing myself to lay still. Well, that's weird. I should not want to move closer, and why do I keep looking at his mouth? It's not purple like usual. It shouldn't be distracting me.
Looking at his lips makes the image of those lips on my stomach flash into my brain, and seeing as I can practically feel his tongue sliding into my belly button with a hand on the seam of my boxers, I don't think that's just me thinking. I'm pretty sure that happened. While my mind is distracted, I make the mistake of trying to put down my hand. I'm really not used to being this close to people, so I should have paid more attention to where it was going. I didn't. It's not exactly my fault. The thought is a bit distracting. Not that that distraction helps at all once I feel my fingers brush against his side.
Konstantin doesn't seem to be any better in shape, seeing as his cheeks get redder. He bites his lip a little, and he looks away from me. I pull my hand away pretty quickly because he shakes a little. He lets out a little noise, which isn't really a moan but more like irritation and buries his face into a pillow.
There's a long awkward silence in which neither of us moves, but we should. I don't know why he's not moving, but I am not moving because I am torn between running for my clothes and rolling over to make him make another noise, one that isn't irritated this time. I think I'm shaking, too. As a matter of fact, I think I know I am. There seems to be more than just shaking going on, which could be why I still look like I'm blushing.
There's a little more awkward silence, and trying to fill it, I say the first word that pops into my head that doesn't have to do with Konstantin naked. "P-pants!" I should not stutter on a word like pants, but I definitely think I just did. I shouldn't being shuddering enough to stutter on a word like pants, either.
I want to know what happened last night, but then again I'm not really sure if I do or not because I'm almost positive it involves more than what distracted me earlier. That's not good to think about with no pants, or at all, but mostly with no pants on and right next to him. Of course, not thinking about it isn't really helping either because it means I'm still thinking about it. There's a lot of things involving him running through my head right now, which might have happened or could just be fantasies about what I want to happen. Wait, no, no, pants!
Konstantin hasn't done anything yet. For what seems to be no reason, Konstantin suddenly nods, and I realize he was probably agreeing with my earlier should-not-have-been-stuttered statement. Konstantin lifts up his head to look at me, but instead of moving away like I said I was going to with the random declaration about clothing, I move closer. Somehow or another our lips meet, and then he moves closer until we're so close that even our tongues have invaded one another's personal space. They start moving, and moving, then some more moving.
His hand brushes my hair out of my face, and holds my head where it is. My hand ends up exactly where I left pink marks before, the other clinging to his shoulder blade. My throat tightens and my mouth opens like I'm going to make a noise but it feels like it gets lost sometime before my mouth, or I think it gets lost. Maybe it got lost into his mouth; they're pretty much connected right now. Then, sometimes there isn't the mouths, but the tongues are still meeting. I lean in closer to close the gap and make our lips touch again, but Konstantin pulls away.
He bites his lip, and I almost want to ask him what I did wrong. Konstantin takes a deep shuddery breath and looks at me. "Pants, Leo, pants." His eyes look kind of pretty glazed over like they are and – Pants! Yes, pants, that's a good idea. Genius!
We pull away at about the exact same time, roll off the bed, and begin to search for our clothes, very little of which seems to be here. A couple of Konstantin's bracelets are on the floor, and that's about it. I feel the need to look under the bed and call for the allusive article of clothing like it's a lost puppy dog. "Pants? Paaaants?"
"I don't think they're going to come to you, Leo. There isn't anymore sugar." Good, good, there's no more sugar that makes me want to screw Russian boys, especially that one, who is standing up, completely naked. I call for my pants because I need them, as much as he needs his. I'm trying not to look, but it's hard not to because I'm always looking at everything so I can find interesting things, and what's between his legs right now just happens to be interesting and not laying very flat, which is why he needs pants for the same reason I need pants.
"I think they're out there, in the hall," he says, gesturing towards the door. I don't want to go out in the hall; I want to go back in the bed. Why can't my pants just come when I call them? They're going to need a good lecturing for this. Yes, lecture. Did I have class today? En, law school can wait.
I sigh and prepare myself to walk out there to retrieve my wayward clothing. Before I can, Konstantin grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. I have no idea why, but if he wasn't done, he shouldn't have pulled away, but I'll stay now, I think. There's his face close to mine again, but he looks down and starts blushing. "You don't have to go out there." I'm willing to listen to that. I don't particularly want to go out there, so I settle for leaning forward with a little smile on my face before pressing my lips against his. He kisses back but stops the kiss just as fast as it began, not pulling away before speaking. "That's not what I meant. I meant, … closet. I meant the closet."
"There's a closet?"
"We're in my cousin's room. He has clothes. He keeps them in a closet."
"That makes sense!"
"Y-yeah," he mumbles before heading towards said closet. He disappears into the closet, and comes back with pants. He holds out the pants in front of him as if he wants me to come get them, looking straight at me, and since his eyes are entirely black I can't figure out where he's looking until he turns his head away and starts blushing. Then, I think I figure it out. "You might want these."
I take the pants from him, grateful for a little cover, and put them on. They're too long for me, but I don't really care right now. It's a good thing they aren't my size because they would be tight, and that would be bad. We don't need any special attention right now. I think Konstantin put shorts on, and they still hang past his knees. Apparently, even though they're big, things can still be seen, not that I think I'm in any better of a state. "So, uh, let's go find your actual pants."
I nod, and we head off on a quest for pants and other abandoned clothing. We find them, but they're not in the hall, they're on the stairs. Some of them are at the base of the stairs. Some of them have fallen off the stairs, or were thrown off. In the very least, it's all very incriminating, and I know incriminating. I am a thief after all, and a damn good one at that.
Konstantin just stares. "Wow." At this point there's not much I can do but nod because he said it best. Wow. "My clothes have never been this scattered before." He leans over and picks up a shirt. He puts his hand through a hole. "It's ripped, and it smells like sex. Leo, it's on the stairs… You don't think we -?"
"I'm not sure what I think," I say, picking up my discarded boxers. Half of Konstantin's flashing tongue magnet falls out of the hem still flashing. I pick it up and I stare at it. That was definitely on when his tongue was in my belly button. "Kostya, do you want this back?"
"I'm not sure where that's been, so no. It does go in my mouth." I nod and put it in the pocket of my stolen pants. He might not know, but I think I have an idea. I kind of wish his tongue was there now actually. No. Stop that Leone! Just pick up the rest of your clothes.
There appears to be a Russian emo boy staring at me from the bottom of the stairs. "Good morning."
I pick up my pants and begin to search for my most important item, my coat, before responding to his good morning. "I'm not going to explain why my clothes are laying on your stairs."
"That's okay," he says. "I had the misfortune of trying to go down the stairs when they were coming off."
"Hm, well, that's awkward. Did you happen to see a coat anywhere?"
He looks around the room before walking out the door, and coming back with my coat. "This thing is kinda heavy," he says as he hands it back to me.
"It should be, about thirty pockets of it are full of stuff."
Konstantin says something to the emo looking boy in what I assume is Russian since he's Russian, and the emo boy is Russian. I get to be completely left out because I don't understand Russian or anything else but English. I can say "I rule" in the language in about every country I've been too, but that doesn't help me much with understanding. I finish gather my clothing, and I note that Konstantin is right. They do, in fact, smell like sex, and I think I can smell him on there, too. Not that that's bad, except that I just caught a whiff from my boxers.
"He says you should probably go because my cousin is going to be coming over soon, and he's not going to be happy that we fucked in his bed, or stole his clothes," Konstantin says, grabbing my attention. I nod because it's probably a good idea that I leave, not so much for the Konstantin's cousin thing as for the fucking thing. As for the stealing, his cousin can get over it. He's not special. Everyone gets stolen from when I'm around.
I stand there with my clothes in my hands, expecting Konstantin's typical Russian goodbye kiss on the cheek, but then I realize that's probably not going to happen. He's busy chattering away to the emo boy again anyways. I pull on my coat and say goodbye before slipping out the house.
I think I'm going to go steal from my own cousin now.