Pairing: Lance and Chris
Words: meditate; feather-weight; diva; hysterical


It isn't so much that Chris is dissatisfied with his life.  It's
more like he has this feeling that there's something missing.

After a week spent meditating -- to the accompaniment of hysterical
laughter from Justin -- Chris decides that he needs a mission in
life.  Something important to do.

Like harass Lance.

"Laaaaaaaance!"

"What?" Lance asks, lifting his head from the lounger.  He can tell
Chris is still lost somewhere in his house.  Stupid Chris
interrupting Lance's sunbathing time.

"Laaaaaaaance!" Chris repeats, like an air raid siren.

"Out here!"

"Laaaaaaaance!"

Lance shrugs and closes his eyes, putting his head back down.

About ten minutes later, there's ice cubes dropping one by one on
Lance's stomach.

Lance lifts his hips so the ice won't head toward his nekkid balls
and keeps his eyes closed.  "Hi, Chris."

Chris pouts.  "You're supposed to bellow in rage and chase me,
not... whoa.  You're nekkid!"

"Yep."

Chris sits down and traces the path of the melting ice with his
eyes.  "Really nekkid."

"No, imaginary nekkid."

Chris sticks out his tongue at Lance, not that Lance can see it
with his eyes closed.  "I've found my mission in life.  I thought
it was something else, but I was wrong and now I know what it is."

"Hmm?"

Chris reaches out and traces the path of the water with his
fingertips.  Down from Lance's navel, over his hip and... "Oh. 
Wow."

"I'm sure you've seen one of those before, Chris."

"Yes, but..." Chris can't find the words.  He's looking at Lance's
dick, sure, but he's down below Lance's head, and Lance can't see
how it looks with his legs spread and the curves of his ass just
barely visible.  It's all 'fuck me, fuck me now', Lance's pose.

Like one mesmerized, Chris picks up one of the half-melted ice
cubes.  With a feather-weight touch, he uses it to draw a line down
Lance's dick.

Lance shivers and snaps his hips down.  "Hey!"

"Yeah, uh huh, just like that," Chris says.

Lance finally opens his eyes, glaring at Chris.  "What?"

Chris isn't even looking at him.  "Lift your hips."

"No."

"Please?" Chris tries.

"Why?"

"I wanna put this there."  Chris waves the ice cube in the
direction of Lance's ass.  He looks up.  "Or you could turn over."

"Chris, I do not *want* ice on my ass."

"Not on.  *In*."  Chris shivers.

"I sure as hell don't want ice *in* my ass!  And why the hell would
I let *you* do something like that, anyway?"

Chris makes his eyes big.  "Because I've been really really good?"

"You totally have not.  You're not my boyfriend, and I'm not
letting you do kinky things to my ass."

"But it's such a *nice* ass!"

"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

"Do I get to stick ice up your ass if I am?"

"Yep.  But you also have to dress nice and treat me right and let
my momma feed you."

"I have to dress up?"

"Sometimes, yes."

"All this for one lousy ice cube?"

"Well, you will get future ass privileges."

"Like what?" Chris says.  He's dropped the ice cube -- it was too
cold to hold and had just about melted away anyway -- and he's got
his wet hand on Lance's thigh.

"Guess?"

"So I get to do dirty disgusting nasty things to your ass, and all
I have to do in return is put up with your hysterical diva fits and
wear a suit when I visit your mom?"

"Yep.  Well, and love me."

Chris raises his head.  "You said I had to be nice to you.  You
didn't say anything about love."

"Yeah, well.  It's a clause.  Not immediate requirement, but
eventually.  Or at such time as the contract is reviewed, it may be
terminated."

"And you," Chris asks, still stroking Lance's thigh.  He's
fascinated by the faint trembles of Lance's muscles.  "You gonna
love me, too?"

"Uh huh."

"You sure about that?  You've never even acted interested."

"Neither did you.  Until you showed up wanting to do some kinky
shit to my ass."

"I'm a slow learner," Chris says.

"Yeah?  You decided yet?"

"Uh huh.  I need more ice."

"Okay."