Sex Pistols and Bread
It was after the benefit and after the party and after the afterparty and after stopping at White Castle for a much needed ingestion of grease and Lance was still flying high. The second he'd been asked to participate he'd said yes. After all, how many times was he going to get a chance to wear a kilt and eyeliner and pretend that he had kick ass alternahair. The fact that it was all for a good cause was merely icing on the cake. Jessie'd ended up being more enthusiastic than he was, if that was possible, and Lance grinned as he glanced in the rearview mirror, admiring the smudges of the eyeliner. A helluva time was being had by all and really, he didn't think things could be any better. Well. Fine. Jessie could stop changing the radio station every three seconds but other than that, the night, okay, morning now, was perfect.
"You know I only do it because it drives you nuts." Jessie grinned at him, then changed the station again.
"Keep it up and we'll see if I take you anywhere ever again." Lance leaned out the window and punched the code in, waiting for the gates to open.
"You wound me, you truly do," Jessie clutched at his chest and Lance snorted, pulling to a stop in front of the house.
"Right, sure, uh huh," Lance hopped out, sticking his tongue out at Jessie before slamming the door shut. "I'll be sure to make a note of it."
"You do that." Jessie yawned. "I'm kinda beat. And, I hate to admit it, but damn my ass is cold. Leather seats and kilts don't really mix that well."
Lance shuddered as he opened the door to the house. "That's it, you're definitely detailing the truck tomorrow." He yawned himself as they made their way towards the kitchen. "Because the last thing I need are ass prints on my seats."
"And here I thought you just loved ass prints on your seat."
Lance stumbled as he whirled around, blinking rapidly. Clearly he hadn't sobered up as quickly as he'd thought because he would swear that was Chris who just said that and he would swear that was Chris sitting on top of the kitchen counter. But it couldn't be, after all . . .
"Aren't you supposed to be in like, Idaho or something and golfing?" Lance blinked again. Nope. Chris was still there, bigger than life and twice as annoying. Like always.
"Utah and I totally shot an 82 yesterday, don't listen to what Justin says, that lying little bastard." Chris grabbed a piece of toast and took a bite. "Nice hair."
Lance reached up, wincing as he poked at the stiffness of the spikes. "There are these things called phones, you could have used one you know."
"But there's no fun in that for me." Chris hopped off the counter and sauntered over to Lance, looking him over head to toe, dragging it out and making Lance battle the urge to smack him. "So what the hell are you supposed to be? Because I'd say if you're going for seriously lame punk wanna be, you're succeeding quite nicely." Chris turned before Lance could reply. "Nice knees, Jessie."
"Thanks." Jessie snagged a piece of toast from the pile. "I like to think they're one of my better features."
Chris nodded sagely. "Not too many people can flaunt their knees, that's for sure. I mean, take a look at Bass over there and you'll see why."
"Hey!" Lance vaguely registered that he was flapping his arms in frustration but didn't really care. It was time to assert some vague control over this situation. "Chris, what the hell are you doing here?"
"I heard you were going to be in a skirt and there was no way in hell I was going to miss that. The eyeliner's a nice touch." Chris eyed Lance again. "Though you are an insult to all that is punk. Believe me, baby, Sid you ain't."
Jessie laughed and Lance flipped them both off. "Ha, ha, ha, very funny, asshole. And how did you even know about this, it's not like you've been Mr. Up Close and Personal with anyone lately."
"Howie, of course." Chris shrugged, then leaned back and grabbed another piece of toast. "You know he's up on all of that shit."
"Yeah, I was sure he'd be there." Jessie yawned again. "Weird that he wasn't."
Chris grinned. "He didn't want to show everyone else up, have you seen him lately? And he's got amazing legs. He thought it would be nice to let someone else have a day in the sun." Chris munched for a moment then turned back to Lance. "Dude, did you shave your legs?"
"What? No!" Lance rubbed at his eyes. "Chris."
"Oh, I know that tone of voice." Jessie tossed a wave. "That is definitely my cue to head to bed. Enjoy the tongue lashing, Chris."
"Believe me, I will." Chris took another noisy bite. "Seriously, did you?"
"Christopher. Please, for the love of God, tell me what you're doing in my kitchen eating toast and making fun of me." Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm too tired to keep guessing."
"And here I thought that it was obvious. I wanted to make fun of you in a skirt and I was hungry and thus the toast." Chris sniffed. "If you don't want me around, I can just go see if Richardson is willing to model this year's A lines for me."
Lance took a nice, deep, calming breath. "You're the most maddening person I've ever met."
Chris snorted. "I doubt it. You know Justin after all." He took a few steps towards Lance. "Seriously, though, did you shave your legs? Because it looks it."
Before Lance could even register what was happening, Chris was on his knees and then the rough scrape of his tongue was snaking along the side of his knee. He yelped and tried not to kick, though the thought of watching Chris tumble over had its appeal. Of course if he did that, then Chris would stop licking him. And that would be bad.
"Huh. I guess you didn't." Chris grinned up at Lance. "But now the real question. Are you going traditional under that kilt."
Lance arched a brow. "There is only one way to find out." He lifted the kilt up a bit, purposely being slow about it. "There, that answer your question?"
"Fuck, yeah," Chris breathed out just before licking another long swipe up Lance's thigh. That did stagger Lance back and his head thudded against the wall but that really didn't matter. No, it really and truly didn't matter when Chris's mouth was warm and wet and he was doing that thing with his tongue that made Lance nearly swallow his own tongue. He whimpered when Chris began lapping at his balls.
"You bastard." Lance grabbed on to Chris's shoulders, digging his fingers in.
Chris mumbled something in reply, whatever it was nearly inaudible over the roaring in Lance's ears. Chris was licking him, teasing him, barely taking him into his mouth before pulling back and slowly running the tip of his tongue up and down his shaft. Exactly how Lance liked it and Lance's grip on Chris tightened.
"Fuck," Lance growled out and Chris pulled back far enough to laugh.
"Later, baby, right now just enjoy." Chris pressed a kiss to one thigh then the next thing Lance knew Chris was swallowing him down, sucking hard and Lance's head thumped back against the wall again. He closed his eyes and simply let Chris have his way, let Chris's hands move where he wanted, let Chris twist him and turn him. He didn't care what Chris did so long as he kept doing that. Oh, yes, exactly that.
"Tasty." Chris leaned back on his heels, licking his lips as Lance slid down the wall. "Your eyeliner is running."
Lance brushed the back of his hand across his eye. "That it is. And this floor is pretty damn cold."
Chris stood, then head out a hand to Lance. "Come on then. Let's go somewhere a bit more comfy. After all, I've got grand plans for that ass and frostbite is not among them."
Lance staggered as Chris pulled him to his feet, then let Chris drag him down the hall. He'd have to remember to have another kilt made. After all, Chris definitely seemed to like it. "So you approve of the skirt?"
Chris grinned. "Hell, yeah. And you know," Chris shoved Lance onto the bed. "Eyeliner is now appropriate for every day wear." Lance laughed then pulled Chris down on top of him.