"It's cold, bastardo!" Lovino's voice rang out against the rattling metal walls, finding its way to Antonio over the loud roar of the engine. Though, plane or not, Toni had a feeling he would have shouted it at just the same volume. The Italian wriggled in his seat, and the parachute sat still covering his naked body.

"Sí," Antonio replied after a moment. "Lo siento, Lovi. It was just as cold when I did it with Gilbert and Francis."

Lovino still scowled. "... I hate this, bastard..." he murmured, too low for Antonio to hear. But before he could tilt his head, and respond with a Spanish '¿Qué?' the sky-diving instructor was on his feet.

"We're almost there!" he shouted, so loud it made Lovino want to punch him in the face. Though he might have just wanted to punch him in the face anyway, because he had a rather stupid face. "You should get strapped up! ... You're sure you want to go together, right?"

Antonio's face filled with a wide, stupid-looking grin. "Of course, amigo~!" he said, and stood. His toned, naked body was way too tan for Lovino to even turn his eyes towards, although for some reason they kept trying to go there anyway. He didn't comment on the fact that they were going 'together'... naked... of all things...

It was Lovino's turn to stand. And he knew, along with that, he'd have to strap on the back pack that was currently shielding his genitalia from the rest of the world. He frowned deeply, and might not have gotten up, but a tan hand moved into his own. He looked up.

"Come on," Antonio smiled. "... It'll be worth your while."

Like always, the disgruntled emotion that always seemed to bubble in Lovino's chest slowly faded as his green eyes smiled at him.

Getting strapped in was the easy part.

Even when Lovino felt the warm skin of his lover brushing against his own... or the, currently soft, warm... thing... brushing against his bottom... it wasn't then that was a problem.

It was when the door opened.

When he saw the imminent danger of being thousands of feet up in the air, his knees buckled. And it was Antonio's arms that he leaned into.

The bastard probably realized this about him a long time ago.

And the instructor probably thought he was afraid.

"... but only experienced divers can pull the cord at that level." the man continued.

Lovino gripped Antonio's arms, which were wrapped around him, "You make fucking sure you don't pull it 'til that level..." he growled, whispering.

Despite the bite of the cold air, he was already becoming hard. And he didn't even care whether the stupid-face noticed. Not that the Italian was looking in that direction anyway. His eyes were focusing solely on the ground, his body tensing at just the thought of falling.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, stupid face shut up. And Antonio's arms wrapped tighter. Without hesitance, Lovino moved forward, to jump. He wanted so badly to drop, and to feel that sensation of being dropped as the adrenaline pumped through his veins and filled his entire being with the ecstasy of pure danger. "Spain...!" he whimpered, as the Spaniard pulled him away from the edge.

"Uno momento, Lovino..." he murmured, and he rifled something out of the back-pack. The instructor had gone up to talk with the pilot for a moment, and Antonio did not waste his opportunity. Lovino knew what he was doing, and he bit his lip, feeling the sinking pit in his stomach that made his toes curl and his bare thighs tingle with a shiver that shot straight up his abdomen.

And then the instructor was turning back to him, Antonio depositing what he had retrieved back into the backpack. Lovino barely heard the man's voice over his burning desire. His stomach was slowly becoming knotted, and his knees, which had been locked in a position of sheer anticipation, began to give.

If the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins wasn't enough, the Spaniard's firm arms holding him up surely began to send him over the edge. As Antonio turned to fall out of the plane with Lovino in his arms, he was smiling wildly at the shrill cry of ecstasy falling from his younger lover's lips. He knew what this kind of thing did to him. The cold air whipped by, mercilessly bruising Lovino's soft skin and sending a horrifyingly good sensation through every nerve and every muscle and every single thought that flew through his lustfully clouded brain. They fell by, going god knows how many miles per hour, and the threat of death hanging over their heads couldn't have turned Lovino on any more.

From the ground, it was almost impossible to tell what was happening. A falling mess of tangled limbs which struggled against their vanishing environment. It looked strange, to say the least. The parachute deployed at an almost fatal level, followed by a shout that was somehow a moan and a scolding at the same time. It echoed against the softened, green ground, and filled the ears of passersby for miles.

A few, long, minutes later, and they were done. Their bodies, which had been entwined in the air, didn't separate even as they landed. It was now the job of a grounded diving-coach to go and retrieve the couple who had dived. As she approached, it wasn't the noises that tipped her off. She often heard moans of pain, or even ecstasy, from the divers. It was not an unusual occurrence. But when she found the flattened pile of parachute, hurriedly moving in a familiarly passionate motion, she realized. The moans suddenly made sense. It wasn't pain, or relief, but an entirely different kind of enjoyment that was being had here. Getting the message, she quickly retreated.

She decided to come back and collect the tangled collection of what lie under the parachute at a later time.