Material Boy
by Karen and LB
© 2002
Inspired by the disgusting display of conspicuous consumption exhibited on MTV Cribs.
Lance feels like throwing up. It's a genuine, physical reaction. He can't believe what he's seeing. Was it really this bad? Did they really live like that? Quickly switching off the TV, he considers calling his mother. It was supposed to be a day off; JC was coming over later, and they were going to go shopping, but right now that's the last thing Lance wants to do. Right now, Lance wants to toss everything he owns.
The mistake he'd made was in turning on the TV in the first place. He was eating breakfast, and Beth was away so he put the TV on--MTV. Harmless entertainment, right? And it was always good to know what other artists were up to. But they weren't showing videos. They were showing Cribs. The show that "takes you inside celebrity homes." And what he saw made him ill. The opulence, the material possessions-- half the people he knew didn't even know what was in their homes. But that got him thinking about himself. After all, who was he to judge? He looks around the very room he's sitting in and that's when he becomes nauseated. That's when he decides to do something about it.
When JC arrives, Lance is nowhere to be found. It's not like Lance not to be ready and waiting, so JC wanders through the downstairs floor looking for him. Then he heads upstairs, calling Lance's name.
He only wore the shirt once. ONCE! So he tosses it behind him, hanger and all. So many shirts. So many clothes for ONE person (well, sometimes two, when JC stayed over). He goes through each piece, saving a few, tossing more.
"Lance?" JC calls again, coming into Lance's bedroom. He still doesn't see Lance, but he hears rummaging coming from the closet.
Lance is so engrossed in what he's doing he doesn't hear JC--until he whacks him square in the face with a pair of pants.
"Is there something you're trying to tell me?"
"Oh, man, I'm sorry." Lance gives JC a hug and rubs his back. "I'm, um, doing a little housecleaning."
"A little? What's going on?"
"This is disgusting. Look at all this stuff."
"It's your stuff. Why's it disgusting?"
"I didn't even buy half this stuff! Who needs all these clothes?"
"You do? Or you did, until today. What happened?"
"Nothing happened. I just had a little eye-opening experience. Ever watch Cribs?"
"Nope. Why?"
"It's that show on MTV where they go inside different celebrities' houses."
"Yeah, I know what it is. I've just never watched it. What's that got to do with this?" JC gestures at the mess.
"This--this is what it's all about. We hoard stuff, JC. We get stuff thrown at us for free. Stuff we don't need. Stuff we get just because of who we are. It's not right that there are people out there who have to pay for this stuff and we get it for free."
JC ponders. He's never thought of it this way. "So, what are you going to do?"
"Get rid of anything I don't wear. Give it away. Like this." Lance holds up one of the many logo tees he's been given over the years.
"So, sort of reverse shopping."
Lance stops what he's doing and cocks his head. "Yeah. Reverse shopping. Exactly." And he tosses the t-shirt on the growing pile.
Lance seems very intent on this. JC makes a decision. "What can I do to help?"
"Start with that side. Anything you seen me wear only once or not at all goes."
"Okay." It's harder than it sounds. Sure, Lance only wore this one once, but it looked great on him. And this other one--he's never worn it, but it's totally funky. JC finally finds a shirt that he's sure Lance will never wear and tosses it on the pile.
Lance is busy going through his dress shirts, but he turns his head to gauge JC's progress. "Darlin', this is only gonna work if you take them off the rack."
"I'm trying. I really am. But there's so much stuff here that I KNOW will look good on you even though you've never worn them."
With a sigh, Lance realizes this is never going to work. Unless . . . "Here, give me that." He strips off his t-shirt and takes one of the shirts JC is eyeing. Straightening the sleeves, which hang below his wrists, just the way he likes it, and buttoning it so his neck and part of his chest are exposed, he holds his arms out. "What do you think?"
"I think it looks great. Sexy."
"You'd think a potato sack was sexy."
"No. I don't like this." JC plucks a shirt from the rack and tosses it down. "And this. This is practically identical to the one you have on."
"See what I mean? I love clothes, dude, but this is out of hand. Remember these pants?" Lance holds up a pair of yellow parachute pants. "No one even wears these anymore."
"Okay, I want those. Just to make fun of you with." JC smiles sweetly. "Okay, I'm getting into this." He starts plucking items off of the rack that obviously duplicate other items.
Before long, both JC and Lance are layered in clothes they're keeping and there's a big pile of discarded clothes at the closet entryway. "Man, it's too bad I don't have a little brother."
"There's gotta be guys somewhere who can use this stuff."
"I hope so. We'll box it up and take it over to Goodwill. I think I have some boxes in the attic." Lance starts to leave, but in trying to avoid the big pile of clothes he gets tangled up and trips, landing face down right in the middle of it.
"Lance! Are you all right?" JC kneels over Lance.
Lance remains on his stomach, his voice muffled by the layers of fabric under him. "This is my punishment for having so much clothes."
"Aw. honey. No one's punishing you."
"It's the revenge of the clothes!"
"Noooo! I'll save you!" JC tries to lift Lance out of the soft pile of fabric.
Lance's body goes limp making it extremely difficult for JC to free him. "See, they won't let me go!"
"Maybe it's you who doesn't want to let go."
"Don't get all psychological on me, C." Lance rolls over, a shirt sleeve sticking to his face.
"Ooh, touched a nerve, did I?"
"Not at all. I have no problem getting rid of this stuff. In fact, they can have the shirt off my back."
"Which one? You're wearing three."
"I'll start with this one." Lance lifts the sweater over his head and tosses it aside. "Well, maybe I'll keep that one. I like that one."
"Yeah, that one feels good."
"You never wore that--oh. We're definitely keeping that one. But this one . . . " Lance starts sliding the silk button-down shirt off his shoulders.
"That one? The silk? That's a keeper."
"Okay. But I better not wrinkle it." Lance carefully removes it and lays it on the floor beside the sweater. "But this shirt," he looks down, indicating the yellow logo tee, "I should probably give away."
"Yeah, you've got lots of stuff like that. In fact . . . " JC strips the shirt off Lance. "Better. Much better."
"For YOU, maybe."
JC touches one now exposed nipple, watching it crinkle and stiffen under his touch. "Yeah, maybe I better dress you back up." He touches the other nipple, smiling as it reacts similarly. "Or not."
"I'm, um, getting a little hot anyway. Must be all these shirts."
"Yeah, that must be it," JC says, with his most seductive look.
Kneeling in the pile of clothes, Lance watches the hand caressing his chest, unable to hide his arousal. He strokes JC's arm, encouraging him.
"I do know what you mean, about the stuff," JC says seriously, as if he weren't fondling his boyfriend's nipples. "We'll just have to be more aware. We can remind each other."
"This is all I really need."
"It's just hard . . . to say 'no' . . . when things are thrust at you . . . "
"They keep . . . coming."
"Seducing . . . "
Unable to hold back any longer, Lance pounces on JC, kissing him hard and throwing him backward against the soft pile of clothes.
JC falls back with a little grunt, but is pillowed by the scattered clothing. He runs his hands over Lance's bare back as they kiss and kiss again.
Lance never realized what an aphrodisiac cleaning could be. His closet never made him this horny. He tugs eagerly at JC's shirt as he kisses his neck, and when he's finally able to raise it he brings his mouth to JC's chest, licking each of JC's nipples in imitation of what JC did to his nipples moments before with his fingers.
JC squirms with pleasure under Lance's talented tongue. He shifts his lower body so he can rub his leg against the bulge forming in Lance's jeans.
Lance writhes against JC's leg while his tongue teases each puckered nipple. He moves lower, tracing a wet line down JC's stomach to the soft indentation of JC's navel.
JC laughs when Lance's tongue tickles him. "Gee, Lance, if I'd known clothes on the floor turned you on like this, I'd have invited you over to do laundry."
"You never do laundry," Lance mumbles against JC's skin.
"I could start."
"You wouldn't know where to put the detergent."
"I know where to put anything important."
"Where's that?"
"You. In me."
"You SURE you know how?"
"I'm sure YOU know how."
"Oh, I know. I know very well." Lance unfastens JC's jeans and slides the zipper down slowly.
"Such talented fingers."
"You like my fingers?" Lance wriggles his way up JC's body so he's laying on his side facing JC, but he slips his hand inside JC's pants.
"Fingers, toes, nose, and everything in between."
"Do you like this?" Lance asks, eyes half-lidded as his mouth closes over JC's lips.
JC responds by pulling Lance closer and taking the kiss from teasing to passionate.
Lance senses the moment the game ends and the lovemaking begins almost as instinctively as he knows his own heart rate. The transition is fluid, the way it happens between two people who are so right for each other. "Don't move," he whispers, as he pulls himself to his feet and scampers over to the drawer where he keeps his "supplies." JC watches Lance's every move, enjoying even the simplest action his lover makes.
Lance hurries back to JC and falls by his side, putting aside the tube of lube for now so he can turn his attention back to his boyfriend. "Where was I? Oh yeah, here." Lance presses his lips to JC's, rolling on top of him.
JC reaches out with his tongue, thrusting it hungrily into Lance's waiting mouth as his hands struggle with, then defeat the button and zipper of Lance's jeans.
Lance teases JC's tongue before pulling away long enough to remove JC's shoes and pants. But instead of returning to his side he kisses and licks his way up JC's legs until he's face to face with JC's burning erection. JC touches Lance's hair, encouraging, urging. Lance makes him wait. In the soft pile of clothes, all of Lance's senses are attacked--the textures of the fabrics beneath their bodies, the musky scent of JC's organ, the sound of his lover breathing, the taste of his skin on Lance's tongue, and the sight of the beautiful form stretched out before him. Lance nuzzles the area around JC's hardness, his thin beard gently scratching JC's skin. He licks a trail around JC's erection, then swipes his tongue over the round sac below, and then finally, deliberately, draws his tongue slowly up the length of the straining organ.
"Lanccce," JC hisses, dropping his hands to grab handfuls of silk, cotton, wool. His hips sway, following Lance's movements as if attached to Lance by a cord.
Lance grips JC's hips to steady him as he takes JC in, drawing his moistened lips down the shaft and back up again, slowly, languidly, making each second seem like a minute.
JC loves this slow, sensual lovemaking. Of course, he loves their fast, fiery lovemaking too. Any way, any time, with Lance.
Lance releases JC's heat then, placing tiny wet kisses around the throbbing organ before standing up and kicking off his shoes. "Roll over," he commands.
JC complies, pillowing his head on the tangle of garments. Lance watches intently as he removes his pants and underwear. He studies the long body stretched before him, the swell of the tight ass pushed up even higher by the hill of clothes. He bends down and retrieves the soft sweater he recently removed from his own body and folds it into a tight bundle. "Here," he says softly, cupping JC's cheek and carefully placing the sweater under his head. He runs his fingers slowly down JC's back, smiling as it sends a shiver through JC's body. "Comfortable?"
"Try 'incredibly horny'."
"Good." Lance takes the lubricant he had earlier put aside and begins to hum. He kneels between JC's legs, parting them slightly. Still humming, he squeezes a generous amount of the slick substance onto JC, then coats his own burning erection. He pauses, then leans over JC and slowly, gently, pushes inside.
JC grunts at the first penetration, then consciously relaxes himself. "More."
Lance slides his hands down JC's arms and clasps JC's hands on either side of his head. He begins to move inside JC in a lazy, easy rhythm. The cushion of clothes acts like a wave, causing their bodies to bounce slightly with each thrust.
Lance had claimed he'd hardly ever worn these clothes, but they still smell like him. JC feels surrounded, cradled, engulfed by Lance. He thrusts his hips back, finding, following Lance's rhythms like the dancer he is.
Nuzzling JC's neck, Lance savors the tightness surrounding his heat. He reaches under JC, surrounded by soft fabrics, and wraps his hand around JC's length, stroking, caressing in time with his thrusts.
JC moans aloud, his pleasure mounting with every thrust, every stroke.
"JC," Lance whispers in his lover's ear. He strokes faster, pumping harder into the older boy, breathing hotly against JC's neck.
Lance's voice, even whispering, always has an effect on JC. He moans an unintelligible response, lifting his hips further to take Lance in ever more deeply.
Lance kisses the back of JC's neck, his own sweat mixing with that of his boyfriend. The two bodies slide in unison on the soft pile of material, until Lance senses his climax is near. He quickens his pace, clutching JC's hand as though it were his lifeline.
JC knows Lance's reactions as well as he knows his own, so he knows how close he is--how close they both are. He lets himself slip over that edge, crying out as he comes, letting the surrounding fabric nearly silence the sound. Holding JC tightly, Lance thrusts in a frenzied pace, until at last, squeezing JC's hand and moaning in his ear, he finds his release.
JC settles into the shifting, cocooning fabric as he feels Lance droop against his back. "Wow," he manages, still breathless.
"Yeah, I never knew my clothes were such a turn-on."
"I never knew being in the closet could be such a turn on."
Lance looks down at the clothes, then behind them. "Well, we're sort of, like, out of the closet now." JC groans and tries to push Lance off, but he's pinned.
"Going somewhere? Hmmm?"
"Nowhere. Not one inch."
"Well, you messed up my clothes so now we're gonna have to take them to the cleaners." Lance rolls off JC and lays on his side. He runs a hand through JC's damp hair as he continues. "I have an idea: why don't we box up the clean clothes and drop off the rest at the cleaners and go see a movie?"
"Sounds good. Can we clean out my closet tomorrow?"