Pairing: Chris and Lance
Words: dimple; silken; menagerie; crisp


Lance blinks.  It's heading toward bedtime.  The sky outside is
silken grayish-black scattered with stars like diamonds.  That's
how Lance knows it's late.  Not because of the sky, but because he
thought something as deceptively deep as a silken sky.  Everything
is a little slidey, though.  Not quiet in focus.  That's okay. 
Chris will be home soon.

"Hi, honey, I'm home!" Chris yodels as he closes the front door
behind him.  There's no answer, and he goes looking.  "Here, Lance. 
Here, Lancey Lancey."

"I'm looking at the menagerie," Lance calls, referring to their
herd of pets.  Or their idea of pets, anyway.  He's in the
conservatory, with the plants.

Chris drops his keys and his wallet and heads for the garden. 
"Dude, you know some day you're going to get caught raising pot and
I'm gonna pretend I don't know you."  He wraps his arms around
Lance and busses his forehead before sitting down next to Lance, on
the floor.

"I am not.  It's oregano."

"What?  You uprooted my pot?  Traitor."

"It came with a sign that said oregano," Lance insists.  He lays
down with his head in Chris's lap.  "Hi."

Chris pets him.  "Hi.  I love you.  Have I told you that in the
past fifteen seconds?"

"No, you haven't.  I was beginning to doubt."  Lance looks up at
Chris.  "I love you so damn much."

"Feeling's mutual, babe."

Lance smiles and cuddles closer to Chris.  "I'm sleepy."

"Yeah?  Ever thought of sleeping in the bed?  They're these big
wide soft things with pillows.  You've heard of pillows, right?"

"I wanted to wait for you."

"You're such a girl," Chris teases.  "C'mon, up and at 'em."  He
pushes Lance to a sitting position, then stands and pulls him up. 
"I'm very fond of beds myself."

Lance stands and walks with Chris.  "That's just because you're
old.  Ancient, even.  So old it's a sin that you have such *cute*
dimples."  He smacks Chris on the ass.

"You just feel bad about falling for my skanky self.  It's all
right.  I'm just fine with lowering my standards and getting
involved with someone like you."

Lance smiles.  "Have I mentioned how adorable your fading wit is?"

"Bah."  Chris stops in front of the bed and gropes Lance's chest
thoroughly in the process of removing his shirt.  "So.  Did you
want to sleep?  Or *sleep*?"

"I wanna snuggle."  Lance bats his eyes.

"That's not an answer," Chris complains, continuing to strip Lance.

"Eh.  Let's have sex.  Sex is good."

"But I want to cuddle!"  With Lance down to his boxers, it's Chris'
turn.  He pushes Lance toward the bed and starts taking off his own
clothes.

Lance wiggles out of his underwear and lays on his stomach,
watching Chris with sleepy eyes.  "Cuddle close."

Chris gets naked, too.  But only to make Lance comfy.  Right. 
"Here I come!" he says, big and loud, like he's going to jump on
the bed, then crawls in next to Lance, nuzzling the crook of his
neck.  "You're so cute when you're sleepy."

Lance smiles and feels a huge swell of possessive pride.  "I'm so
lucky you're mine."

Chris snorts.  "Luck had nothing to do with it and you know it. 
You stalked me until you caught me, you sneaky Southern boy you."

"I love you, though.  And you're mine and I don't share you because
you love me too."  Lance smiles.

Chris purses his lips.  "So what you're saying is, if I tone it
down to mere infatuation, I can get a threesome?"

Lance laughs.  "Evil man.  Mmm.  Evil, sexy man."

Chris edges himself more on top of Lance so he can feel that laugh
in a full-body kind of way.  "Evil, kinky man."

Lance spreads his legs in invitation and rubs himself against the
sheets happily.

"Damn, I love you.  I don't even remember what girls are like. 
Joey talks about Kelly and Bri, and I'm like, dude, who are they? 
I've never heard of these strange creatures you're babbling about. 
Girls?  What are girls?"  As he's talking, he gets his leg between
Lance's, humping Lance's leg.

Lance moans.  "Mmm.  I don't want anything but you.  Just you,
forever," he promises, pressing back against Chris.

Chris kneels up so he can get his hands on Lance's fabulous ass. 
He kneads it, thinking, "Mine!  Mine, mine, mine!".  If Lance wants
to think he's massaging him, well, that's okay, too.  "Aww," Chris
says in mock-disappointment.  "And here I was hoping to get some
Backstreet action.  I can see you and Nick curled around each
other, all pretty blonde on blonde action..."

Lance looks over his shoulder.  "You really want that?" he asks
quietly.

Chris sighs and gets off Lance, worming his way under Lance
instead, holding him.  "No.  I just want you.  However I can have
you, for as long as I can have you.  I just thought, y'know. 
Fantasies.  Things that are hot to think about, but you wouldn't
do."

"Oh.  Okay."  Lance straddles Chris and, with a few deft maneuvers,
takes him in.  "Jesus, you're perfect," he moans, referring to the
way Chris's cock always feels perfect in him.

"Oh, fuck.  Can't believe you just *do* that."

Lance laughs breathlessly.  "With you?  Always."

"Yeah, but..."  Chris gets his hands on Lance's thighs and bucks up
under him.  "Fuck.  Never mind.  Just keep doing it."

Lance does.  In an evening full of drifting thoughts, this moment
is clear and crisp.

When Chris comes -- and it's inevitable that he does, because this
is Lance and Lance's ass knows exactly what to do to make him happy
-- he tackles Lance, rolls him over, and worships Lance's cock.

Lance giggles quietly, after he's come and the lights are out and
the blankets smooth around them.  "You make me happy," he mumbles.

"Good," Chris says, kissing him, forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks and
mouth.  "I've always been afraid that I'm really just making you
miserable."

Lance wrinkles his nose.  "Shush up and be my cuddle bunny."

Chris shushes and curls around Lance.  He knows exactly how good he
has it.

"Cuddle bunny," Lance murmurs, and sleeps.  Cuddling his honey
bunny.