Playboys

by Karen and LB
© 2002

This was inspired by a combination of the pictures of Lance and JC at the Playboy Mansion party, and a viewing of the History of the Playboy Mansion special that was on Showtime, which we watched in hopes that this particular party might be shown. The conversation: "Was it worth watching?" "Sure, if you wanted to see a lot of breasties." was all it too took get us started...

<Wide-eyed> "What are THOSE? Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, there are breasties everywhere. Joshy? You didn't tell me there were gonna be BREASTIES. Whoa, lady, whoa--get those breasties away from me. JOOOOOOOOSH!"

"It's okay, Lance. I won't let the breasties get you."

"But Josh, they're EVERYWHERE. Every time I turn around I get smacked with another boob. I didn't realize there would be so many breasties here."

"I know. It's scary. But we don't have to stay much longer. And have I told you how hot you look in those jammies?"

"They're Dr. Seuss jammies, Josh. No one looks hot in Dr. Seuss jammies."

"You do. I can't wait to get you home and put my cat in your hat."

"JOSH! I do not want it in a box; I do not want it with a fox."

"That will make Thing 1 and Thing 2 very sad."

"Why? They have no stars upon thars."

"I can't keep up with you on Seuss quotes, babe. But I did get you to smile."

"You get me away from all these breasties and I'll really smile."

"We could sneak out the back."

"Okay, but we're gonna have to make a run for it. I see breasties approaching, three o'clock."

"We'll send Donny Osmond out first, as a decoy."

"Good plan. I just hope he doesn't get smothered or something."

"I have a feeling he can handle it. Let's go."

"I'm right behind you."

"Keep your head down. Do not make eye contact. Give me your hand. RUN!"

The boys make a mad dash through the crowd. Just as their passage is about to be blocked by a buxom blond, JC shoves Donny Osmond in their path, effectively distracting the mammarically-unchallenged hussy. They spot their limo and JC pulls Lance toward it, and the two escapees make a successful dive into the back seat.

"I can't believe we got away," Lance exclaims, breathless. He turns to JC. "My hero."

"Bobbie and Keri are gonna be PISSED."

"Yeah, but I'll take Keri shopping and she'll forget all about this. And we can send the limo back for them. AFTER we get to the hotel."

"My thinking exactly. They better not come banging on our door. Cause we're gonna be busy."

"Banging?"

"Something like that . . . "

"Like that? Not that? What else did you have in mind?"

"Nothing. I was just being coy."

"Oh." Lance looks at his hands, then back up at JC. "You're sexy when you're coy."

"You're sexy when you're running away from breasties."

"Then I must look real sexy right now, because there was a whole lotta breasties at THAT party."

"There were. Scary breasties. Disproportionate breasties."

"Fake breasties. Lots of fake breasties. I'll never understand why women do that. It's times like this that I'm so glad I'm a guy."

JC trails his hand over Lance's thigh and settles it between his legs. "I'm glad you're a guy, too."

Lance stares at the hand in his lap, knowing he can't hide the bulge in his pajama bottoms. "Are you as glad as I am? 'Cause I think I'm pretty glad right now."

"You'll just have to check."

Lance tugs on the elastic of JC's pajama bottoms and peers inside. "Yup, you look mighty glad, Josh. Mighty glad."

"How much longer till we get to the hotel?"

"Too long." Lance blushes at his innuendo. "Wait, that's it right there."

The limo pulls up to the circular drive and stops at the door. A valet opens the passenger door and the two boys hop out. Before stepping onto the curb, though, Lance instructs the driver to return to the mansion for their friends. Even now, he doesn't let his libido override his sense of responsibility.

"Good. Everyone's taken care of. Race you to the room?"

"You're on. Loser has to do whatever the winner wants."

"Then no one loses," JC grins as he sprints for the elevator.

"Wanna bet?" Lance calls after him.

The desk clerk barely lifts his eyes to the two pajama-clad boys running through the lobby, but they do elicit a startled glance from an elderly woman exiting the elevator.

JC watches, amused, as Lance brings all his southern charm to bear, and the woman, soothed, walks away saying something about "lovely boys." As soon as the elevator door closes, he's got Lance in his arms, his hand gripping the back of Lance's hair and they kiss hungrily. "Lovely boy," he murmurs as they part when the elevator approaches their floor.

Lance swats JC playfully. "My daddy always said to be polite to strangers-- you'll almost always get your way. Of course, you're no stranger--I wonder if I'll still have my way with you," he muses as the doors open.

"You gotta win the race." JC lunges for the door.

Lance is smaller and quick, but JC's long legs have him at their room door in seconds. Lance slams against the door right behind JC in a huff. "There's just one problem," Lance says, "I've got the key." And he holds it up between his fingers.

"Maybe we're just gonna have to call this a tie," JC says, grinning.

"Sore loser," Lance quips, sliding the card into the lock and holding open the door for JC.

"What happened to the polite southern gentleman who was just here?"

"I held the door for you, didn't I?"

"Which means I actually got in here first."

Lance blinks at the card in his hand. "Oh. You did, didn't you. That's the last time _I_ ever let my manners get the best of me."

"Aw, you think it's really gonna be that bad, having to do everything I want?"

Lance closes the door behind him. "Depends on what you want." He places his hands behind his head. "But a deal's a deal, so it looks like I'm all yours."

JC takes Lance's hands from behind his head and places them around his own neck. His own hand slips around Lance's waist, enjoying the smooth silk of his pajamas. "I'll make it good for you too."

"It's always good with you, Josh." He kisses JC softly, keeping his lips together, again and again.

JC backs Lance up against the door, and his kisses aren't soft. Lance parts his lips when JC pushes his tongue against them and JC explores every centimeter of Lance's hot mouth. When they're both breathless, JC steps back. "Unbutton your top," he says and walks toward the bed.

Lance is stunned but incredibly aroused; he laughs nervously, but when he sees JC is serious he gazes at the floor then opens just the top button. When JC stares at him sternly, Lance slowly unfastens the rest of the buttons but leaves the shirt closed.

"Good. You follow instructions very well. I like that." JC is enjoying this. "Come here and take my shirt off."

"Yes sir," Lance replies, and eagerly strides over to where JC is sitting on the edge of the bed. He kneels down before the older man and pulls JC's shirt free from his pajama bottoms, then lifts it up over his head. Lance gazes at the smooth skin and reaches out to touch it.

JC catches Lance's wrist. "Did I say you could touch?"

Startled, Lance answers sheepishly, "No sir. But I'd really like to."

"And you will. At the right time." JC stifles a grin at Lance's expression. "Now, what I'd really like is a back rub. I think the massage oil's in my bag. Or maybe yours. Go find it, please."

Lance sneers in frustration, but inside he's smiling. He loves this game. He loves this side of JC, and any chance Lance gets to please him makes him extremely aroused. He tries not to show his excitement as he walks casually to his duffle bag, rummaging around for the small bottle of oil they picked up last time they were in LA. He finally manages to retrieve it from under his clothes and brings it over to the bed. He climbs on the mattress behind JC and runs his fingers quickly through JC's hair before his "master" has time to react. Smirking, he pours a few drops of the massage oil in his palm and rubs his hands together. Then he brings his fingers to JC's neck gently rubbing in a circular motion, then applying more pressure. His hands move down to JC's strong shoulders, and he presses his fingers into the tight flesh.

"Mmmm. Very nice." JC flexes his shoulders against Lance's hands. He's totally going to make this up to Lance, of course, but right now, it's just too much fun to have him at JC's beck and call.

Lance throws all of his concentration into working out the knots in JC's shoulders. If someone pulled the fire alarm right now, he probably wouldn't hear it. When he feels the tension drain out of the firm shoulders, Lance's hands travel lower to JC's spine, which he traces with his thumbs. He rubs JC's tight back muscles, listening for any sign of discomfort.

"I think I'm the luckiest man alive," JC sighs as he feels himself relaxing under Lance's firm but gentle touch.

"You're just lucky 'cause you won."

"I'm lucky. 'Cause there was something worth winning."

"This?" Lance presses his hands harder into JC's flesh.

"You."

Lance slides his hands up and down JC's smooth back. "So, I'm your prize?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds kind of icky . . . "

Lance takes his hands away. "I'm icky? I'm icky?"

"Of course not. I meant saying you're my prize like you're some object."

"So I'm not? An object, I mean. A sex object."

"You know you're not. We might play these little games for a night, but tomorrow, you're my best friend and my partner and my soul mate again, dig?"

"I dig. And I like. These games, I mean. I like that we can do these things together, you know?"

"Mmmm. Playtime."

"All work and no play makes Lance a very dull boy."

"Is that your way of telling me you think my backrub's gone on long enough?"

"Not at all. You're calling the shots here." Lance brings his mouth close to JC's ear and whispers, "Your wish is my command."

JC shivers. "Then give me a little more. It feels SO good."

"Anything you say." Lance resumes massaging JC's shoulders pressing forcefully but not painfully.

JC sighs as Lance's hands work their magic. He feels so relaxed, for a change, and he's loving it. But after a few more minutes he tells Lance he can stop. "Lie down."

Lance pauses, hands on JC's shoulders. The twitching in his groin has become more than a distraction, and he's glad to be moving on to something different. If he continues to touch JC any longer in the manner in which he has been, Lance would probably pull him down on the bed and have his way with him. So he follows JC's orders and lies back.

Without a backward glance, JC gets up and wanders over to the refrigerator to grab a beer, not so much because he wants a beer as for Lance's reaction. JC walking away was about the last thing Lance would have expected. Being sent to fetch the beer, maybe. But not this. JC leans against the desk, taking a long drink, watching Lance. He's lying still, or trying to, but JC can almost see the twitching of his nerve endings. JC slowly walks back to the bed and sits on the edge. He runs one cool finger down the opening of Lance's pajama top, collar to waistband.

If waiting for JC wasn't frustrating enough, it's this quiet, gentle, titillating touch that makes Lance want to scream. It takes every ounce of concentration not to pull JC down on top of him. But at the same time, he's loving the way JC is controlling the situation, being laid-back JC, being who he is. Lance closes his eyes and grips the blanket, needing to touch _something_ as the cool finger works its way down his chest.

There's so much heat rising from Lance that JC wouldn't be surprised to see blisters on his finger when he lifts it. This is one of the many things he loves about Lance--how arousable he is. They haven't even DONE anything yet, really, and Lance is already flushed and breathing hard. JC touches Lance's chest again, this time unerringly finding one already tight nipple under the bright silk. He rubs the smooth fabric over the sensitive flesh, feeling it tighten even more into a hard peak.

Lance arches his back--he knows his reaction must be highly amusing to JC, but JC is driving him crazy with these slow, lazy touches. And being almost fully clothed is only increasing the sensation. He liked these pajamas when he bought them, mostly for the comic effect, but the feel of the silk against his skin--against his NIPPLES--is more than he could have asked for.

JC continues to caress Lance's nipple as he leans forward and starts licking the other through the silk, He pauses for a moment, gauging Lance's reaction, then repeats the action, quickly saturating the smooth fabric.

Lance isn't sure if JC will allow him to touch him yet, so he clings to the blanket as if for dear life. JC KNOWS he's driving Lance crazy, knows that with every touch, and with the heat and wetness of his mouth Lance can hardly contain himself. A small whimper escapes his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

JC looks up at the strangled sound. "Oh, I'm sorry Lance. Do you want me to stop?"

Lance's eyes fly open. "Don't . . . you . . . dare," he growls.

JC considers. "Who's giving the orders around here?"

Lance throws his hands up at his sides. "Sorry, sorry," he replies quickly. "Please don't stop, Josh. Is that better?"

"Much better." JC lies back, making himself comfortable. "Come here and kiss me. But JUST kissing. No other touching, and you have to stop when I tell you to."

"That's not going to be easy." Lance rolls over on top of JC, placing his hands on either side of his lover's shoulder. Lance sees this as a challenge; can he really JUST kiss JC? He lowers himself and barely brushes his lips against JC's waiting mouth. Two can play at this game.

JC's eyes flutter open. "You call that a kiss?"

"Ohhhh, you want MORE?" Lance dips down again, this time pecking JC's lips quickly, leaving a small wet spot.

"Tease."

"Now you know how it feels." This time, when Lance lowers himself, he brings his mouth a hairline away from JC's. When his arms can no longer take the strain, he allows their lips to touch and he stays that way for a long, lingering kiss. "Better?"

"Better." JC smiles up into Lance's laughing eyes. "Again."

Lance touches his lips against JC's once again, this time opening his mouth slightly but keeping his tongue to himself.

"Mmmm. Better and better." JC runs his hands lightly up Lance's sides from his waist, then finds Lance's nipples again and massages them through the slippery fabric.

Lance tingles at the touch. Now, when he kisses JC it's more urgent, and his tongue slips out, licking JC's moist lips and then sliding along his teeth, and finally slipping all the way into the deliciously hot mouth, seeking out his lover's tongue.

JC holds back for a few moments, letting Lance play, then he meets his lover's sweet tongue with his own. He finally allows his hands to slide under the bright fabric of Lance's top, tracing over the hot skin with his cool fingers.

Lance moans, lowering himself a little more to meet JC's hands. He teases JC's tongue, and when he pulls back his face is flushed. He gazes between their bodies at the probing hand, and the stiffness in his groin begins to ache.

As if in response to that thought, JC's hand slips lower to brush over the silk- covered erection, then returns with a firmer touch and begins to stroke the stiff bulge.

Lance grinds his knees into the mattress, thrusting into JC's hand. He freezes momentarily. "Is this allowed?"

"If I said no, would you be able to stop?" JC tightens his grasp, stroking more intensely.

Lance gasps. "No!" he groans, sweat forming on his brow.

"It's allowed. Now kiss me again or I WILL stop."

He's not sure JC is serious, so Lance decides not to chance it. Besides, he was just begging for another opportunity to taste that delicious mouth. He continues to thrust into JC's hand while his mouth engulfs his lover's, closing over it in a hard, passionate kiss.

JC pulls Lance down to him, crushing their chests together and deepening the kiss until their tongues are completely entangled.

Lance can feel JC's body heat through his silky top. He makes small movements against JC's chest, rubbing the fabric against his lover.

JC rolls Lance over onto his back then pulls away. He reaches for his beer, left on the night stand, and takes another drink, again, not so much from desire for the drink as to slow things down, keep Lance guessing. He reaches over Lance to return to bottle to the night stand. "Oh, I'm sorry. Thirsty?"

_He's torturing me, and he loves it,_ Lance screams inside his head. He watches as JC casually moves, and says, panting, "Yes."

JC rubs the sweating bottle against Lance's hot face before putting it in his hand.

Lance sighs when the cool bottle touches his skin. He gratefully accepts it and lifts his head to take a long swallow. "Thanks," he rasps. But he knows that the beer won't satisfy the kind of thirst he's feeling now.

JC takes the bottle back from Lance and puts it on the night stand again. Then he just has to kiss him, to taste the temporary coolness of that usually hot mouth. He pulls back, considering. "You are just so damned CUTE in those pajamas," he muses. "I think we're gonna have to keep you in them for a while. But you can finish undressing me."

Lance is more glad than usual that he's wearing elastic pants, because if he was forced to stay in jeans any longer he'd burst right out of them. He rolls his eyes and carefully sits up. Carefully, because if he moves too quickly he just might rupture something. He steps gingerly off the bed and crouches at JC's feet to remove his shoes. "You're killing me, you know that," he states, as he rises to slide off JC's pajama bottoms and the shorts underneath.

"We can stop if you want," JC says, unruffled.

Lance grips JC's legs as he kneels before the older man. "Not on your life."

"Then get back over here. You're allowed to touch now."

Like a wild tiger unleashes, Lance pounces on JC, throwing him back on the bed and wrapping his hand around the length of JC's hot erection.

"I said touch, not cripple."

Lance smiles, embarrassed at his awkwardness. "Sorry. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Nah. I can take it." JC grins up at his boy. "Touch me more."

"Like this?" This time, Lance loosens his grip and just runs the tips of his fingers up the length of the hard organ.

"Mmmmm. Like that. Or harder. Or . . . " JC dissolves into a happy moan.

Lance smiles and continues gently tickling JC's hardness. "Or what, Josh? I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

"You could get creative with that massage oil. That might even lead to . . . other things."

Reaching over to the night stand to retrieve the massage oil, Lance asks as innocently as he can, given the circumstances, "Gee, Josh, I have no idea what you mean. Care to clarify that?"

"Nope. I want to see what you, er, come up with."

Lance looks at the bottle in his hand, then at JC. He flashes a wicked smile. "Roll over," he commands.

JC knows Lance is going to live up to everything that smile promises. He complies and waits for Lance's next move. Lance straddles JC and begins to hum while he uncaps the bottle and tilts it over JC's back. A fine rivulet works its way down JC's spine, all the way to his lower back. Lance quickly returns the bottle to the night stand and once again begins to rub JC's muscles, beginning with his shoulders and working his way down. He's more forceful this time, putting some weight into his hands. He travels back up to JC's shoulders and then leans down to runs his hands down JC's arms. Kissing the back of his neck, he says, softly, "Are you relaxed?"

"Sure, in a filled-with-sexual-tension sort of way."

"That's good enough, I guess. Close your eyes." Lance pulls himself back up, drawing his hands back up JC's lean arms, giving his neck a gentle squeeze. His hands travel back down across the slick surface of JC's back, tracing each muscle, each ripple, until they reach the curve of his tight posterior. Lance raises himself, just a bit, to give his hands better access to the firm muscles of JC's ass. He takes each swell in his hands, kneading them, working them until he feels JC relax. Then he slips a hand between the long crack, just brushing gently against the small, puckered opening.

JC moans and wills himself to hold still, to let Lance draw this out as long as he can. He knew from the start, even if Lance didn't, that there was really no winner and loser in this little game of theirs and he's happy to give up control to Lance if it's gonna feel like this.

Lance teases the opening with two oil-covered fingers. "What do you want me to do now, Josh? Hmmm?"

"I want you to stop teasing, Lance."

Sometimes, Lance can't believe how bold he's gotten, sexually. Not only did he never think in a million years he'd be making love to a man, but that the man would be his bandmate, his friend, and that he'd be straddling him like this. And that JC would be so willing to let Lance do these things to him. That gets Lance even more aroused then he already is, and he thrusts his fingers inside, closing his eyes to the heat surrounding them, savoring the tightness as his draws them slowly in and out.

JC rocks his pelvis with Lance's movements. How can anything feel this good? And he knows it's only gonna get better. "More," he breathes.

Lance thrusts a little harder, then slips in a third finger, working away the tightness. He listens to JC's breathing and the high sounds escaping his throat and smiles. He's glad JC can't see his face right now, because JC would see the look of amazement that Lance can actually draw this kind of reaction from his lover.

JC's hands are clutching the bedclothes so hard that the fabric is pulled out of shape. He struggles to control his breathing and finally manages "Uh, Lance? You can take your pants off now."

Lance stops what his doing, mid stroke. "Are you SURE, Josh? Are you SURE it's okay?"

"You are such a brat."

"You're calling ME a brat?" Lance removes his fingers, watching as JC clenches the blanket in his fists. He moves off the bed where JC can see him. "Maybe I should just let you lie there and suffer," he says, toying with the fabric of his silky top, his mouth curving into a wicked smile, and his pale green eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Get back over here," JC growls. He gulps a few deep breaths. "It was a term of endearment, anyway."

"Gee, I feel so romantic right now." Lance laughs then, and sits on the edge of the bed to remove his pants. He breathes a sigh of relief when he's at last free. But he leaves the top on; he enjoys the feel of the silk against his bare skin and thinks that JC will like it too. First things first, though. Lance reaches for the massage oil once again. He gently places a hand on JC's shoulder. "Turn over."

JC turns over again, looking up at Lance. He grabs for Lance's hand. "I love you more than anything, ever. You're the best thing in my life and I thank God every day for you. Is that romantic enough for you . . . brat?" He drops his voice on the last word, making it a caress.

Momentarily stunned by JC's declaration, Lance stands there, blinking, unsure of what to do next. He wants to take JC in his arms and hold him and never let go. But then he smiles, playing along, "Yeah, that's good enough. For now." He climbs on top of the prone form and presses his lips against JC's. He lets his lips linger, tasting the moistness, the softness of his lover's mouth. When he pulls away and sits up, he pours a small circle of the massage oil into his palm and rubs his hands together. He brings his hands to JC's hardness and strokes the length firmly.

JC can't help smiling, even as he groans in pleasure, at the picture Lance makes, naked except for his Dr. Seuss pajama top, with that look of total concentration. JC had always loved that look, always wondered what it would be like to have it focused on him. Lance's hands are sending shivers through him and just as he thinks he can't possibly get any harder, he realizes that it's happening.

His hands work JC's hardness like a sculptor modeling clay. Lance makes sure every surface of JC's erection is covered in the slick oil, then he raises his eyes, realizing that JC has been staring at him. He crawls back up to meet his lover's gaze and positions himself just above the throbbing organ.

"Lance, Lance," JC whispers, thrusting upward, not yet trying to penetrate, but relishing the feel of flesh on flesh, heat on heat. His lips seek his lover's, open, avid, needy.

Lance brings his mouth down and takes in the lips he craves. He can feel JC seeking him out, and he makes him wait just a little longer while his draws out the kiss. Finally, he reaches down with one hand, holding JC's probing member still, and slowly lowers himself, taking in a little at a time, until the length of the hot erection is inside him.

JC gasps as Lance lowers himself onto his stiffness. So incredibly hot, so incredibly deep. He rocks his hips, sliding in and out of Lance's heat, and his tongue does the same in Lance's sweet mouth.

Lance shifts, trying to get comfortable, but even the slight discomfort he's feeling in this position makes this all the more exciting. He lifts himself almost all the way off JC's tip, then presses down again, meeting each of JC's thrusts in perfect rhythm. That's the way they are, he suddenly realizes-- perfect rhythm.

JC moans into Lance's mouth, then breaks their kiss to let his head roll back into the pillow; as he moves from side to side he catches sight of them in the huge full length mirror that covers one short wall of the room. He's captivated for a moment, watching his fair lover, still clad in the bright silk top move over his own dark self. And it gives him an idea. "Lance, stop. Get up."

"Wha-?" Lance's mind is clouded. JC is buried deep inside him and he thinks he just heard the word stop. He collapses momentarily with a groan, then carefully raises himself off JC's length. "What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, baby. I just had an idea is all. Get up."

Lance rises on shaking legs and stands by the edge of the bed, using the mattress to steady himself. "What are you doing?"

JC gets up and takes Lance's hand, leading him to the mirror. "I want to see you, I want to watch you."

Lance stops in his tracks. "What? You want to watch us do it?" He tries to free himself of the hand holding him, but JC won't let go. "Josh, I don't know about this." Even now, he's uncomfortable seeing his reflection, his half- naked body, his mussed hair, his flushed face.

"I do." JC turns Lance away from the mirror and kisses him. "I know you don't agree, but I love looking at you." He gives a very evil smile. "And it's just a mirror. It's not like I want to videotape us. On second thought . . . "

Lance backs away, holding his hands up. "No way. No way. A mirror is one thing," he gives a backward glance, "but I don't want anything that's gonna come back to haunt us." His words contradict what he's feeling inside, though. Secretly, he's excited by what JC's proposing.

"Exactly. Now come back over here."

Confused, Lance takes a step forward, then another, and soon he's standing before JC, fidgeting with his hands. JC takes the tense hands in his, bringing one up to his face, kissing the palm. He releases the hand and uses his own to guide Lance's mouth to his, waiting till he feels Lance's lips relax before he pushes his tongue between his teeth to seek Lance's own.

JC always knows the thing to do to make Lance forget any stress he's experiencing. He closes his eyes and lets JC's tongue work its magic. Soon, his arousal overcomes him and he kisses back eagerly, wanting more.

JC lets his hands run over Lance's silk clad torso, then dips below the silk to encircle his stiff member. He caresses it in long, languid strokes, feeling, hearing Lance becoming aroused again.

Lance puts his hands on JC's shoulders, giving in to the hand holding him. He presses his face close to JC and plants small, wet kisses on his neck. _I'll do whatever you want, Josh,_ he tells himself. How can he refuse this man anything?

JC turns Lance away from him, placing him about a foot in front of the mirror. He's kissing the back of Lance's neck, pressed up against his silk clad back, still stroking that hard heat. "Open your eyes, baby. Look. How can I NOT want to look at you."

Lance lifts his eyes to the mirror. At first, he's deeply embarrassed. He's standing there, half-clad in these silly Dr. Seuss pajamas--fun to bounce around in but not very sexy. But then, he sees JC's smoldering gaze, watches those lips pressed against his neck, and he becomes even harder in JC's hand. "I look ridiculous," he mutters.

"You look beautiful," JC says. He leans into Lance until Lance puts his hands out, supporting his weight against the mirror. Then, never taking his eyes from Lance's reflected face, JC slowly pushes into his lover once again.

Lance braces himself as best he can, but being forced to look at himself this way--he's never done this before and it's both humiliating and exhilarating. He never knew what he looked like while he was making love, and now here's the chance. He sees how his forehead creases slightly, how he gets these lines between his eyes. How his mouth purses in concentration. Is this what JC sees every time they make love? Is this the face he sees? Lance watches JC over his shoulder. He's holding him tightly, so Lance can only see a portion of his face. It's like watching a movie of themselves, only it's real. Lance's sweaty hands slide along the surface of the mirror, and it's like he's touching himself. This visual sensation added to the tactile one of having JC inside him sends a moan of pleasure up his throat.

JC can sense Lance getting into this in spite of himself. He intensifies his movements, almost pulling out of Lance completely, then plunging deeply into him, his hand echoing the movement as it slides over and over Lance's throbbing organ. He raises his eyes to the mirror again and is enthralled by what he sees, the two beautiful bodies intimately entwined, and that look, oh God, that LOOK on Lance's face.

Lance gazes down at the hand holding his erection and pushes back against JC, taking him in as far as he can, loving the sensation of JC pressing against him this way. His top starts to stick to his back as sweat runs down his skin, and when he raises his eyes to the mirror once again, he blushes when he sees the expression on JC's face.

Seeing that blush redden Lance's already flushed face inflames JC even further. He presses himself harder against and into Lance, making Lance stumble, but JC catches him, then pins him right up against the mirror. He's thrusting powerfully, his lips are against Lance's ear, whispering nonsense, and he can see Lance's hot breath steaming the mirror.

Lance gasps--he's never seen JC like this, so aggressive, so enraptured. And he loves it. He loves the way JC pounds into him, the way he holds him, the way he sounds. Lance's arms are pressed against the mirror, his muscles straining for purchase, and his head is turned so he can't see JC's reflection anymore, but he can feel him, oh, can he feel him. They're so close, and the cold mirror against Lance's chest is so enticing that Lance can't hold back any longer. He squeezes his eyes shut and pushes back against JC as his orgasm rips through him, into JC's hand, and sprays the shiny glass.

JC feels Lance's body tighten around him as he comes, and he keeps thrusting into that sweet tightness as he feels his own orgasm pour out of him, through him. He cries out "Lance, oh, Lance," right into Lance's ear and feels another shudder run through his love.

A small whimper escapes Lance's throat as he feels JC's heat release itself inside him. It is the most delicious sensation, and Lance wishes he could bottle it and save it forever. He's shivering now, and he begins to sink to his knees along with JC, who is holding onto him tighter than ever. Lance is panting, and he can't even formulate the words to express how he's feeling.

When they reach their knees, JC pulls out of Lance, dropping into a sitting position and gathering Lance into his lap. He enfolds Lance tightly and he rocks them both gently. They stay that way for a long time, until they're both breathing normally, until their hearts have resumed their regular rhythms. JC kisses Lance's hair and, smiling, says, "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Lance's eyes widen and his mouth curves into a smile. "That was . . . GREAT." He looks up at the mirror, at the streaks left on the glass from his hands and his . . . fluids. His eyes wander to the reflections of the two men seated on the floor, and he blushes once again. "But I still think I look ridiculous."

"You could never, ever look ridiculous." JC tips Lance out of his lap, gets up, and offers his hand. "C'mon baby, let's go to bed. Maybe I'll even let you take your top off."

Lance stops. "Depends. Last one in bed has to do whatever the winner wants."

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