The Two of Us: Spin Cycle
by Karen and LB
© 2002
Inspired by JC's statement that he wears his socks and underwear once and throws them away.
"Buying a house in LA was a great idea, JC," Lance announces, as they pull into the drive of JC's sprawling cliff-side house.
"We're bi-coastal, baby," JC replies with an exaggerated air.
"BI? I knew it! You ARE sleeping with Bobbie!"
"Darn, I thought I was being so sneaky."
"You can't slip anything past me, Chasez." Lance waits until JC has put the car in park and opens the door. Once outside, he stretches. "Two days off isn't enough."
"We'll just have to make the most of it. Like spend two days in bed."
"Bed? JC, I swear if you weren't so talented you'd be in a coma by now." Lance shakes his head and holds up his hand for the keys. He moves to the trunk and unlocks it, then pulls out their bags and deposits them on the driveway.
"I wasn't talking about sleeping," JC says as he picks up a couple of bags.
"Okay, sex and sleeping. You'd definitely be in a coma."
"I do other stuff."
"Like what?" Lance questions, as he hauls one of the bags over his shoulder and picks up two more.
JC grabs the last of the bags and leads the way into the house. "I write. I work out. I, um, cater to your every whim."
"EVERY? I don't know about that."
"Okay, the occasional whim." Juggling bags, JC gets the door open and disarms the security.
"Maybe sleep is a good thing. Or a hottub. Or a shower."
"Anything you want. We've got two days to christen this place."
"It's a big house, JC. That could take longer than two days. We'd have to work fast."
"We can do that."
"How about a swim first?" Lance crouches down, unzips one of the bags and starts rummaging through it. "How about laundry first," he groans.
"We can do laundry later."
"JC, it's better if we get it over with now. We can start a load now and kick back in the hottub while it's in the washer. You know, you can't keep throwing out your underwear. It's a huge waste."
"But it's more sanitary. Besides, if I get rid of it, it won't end up on eBay."
"How do you know that? You know people go through our garbage. You are wasting perfectly good underwear. I would think you would hate spending money on new underwear."
"Think of the money I save on, um, fabric softener." JC replies, almost sure that's what it's called.
Lance, still kneeling on the floor, turns his eyes up to meet JC's. "You've never done laundry before, have you?"
"Of course I have."
"Show me."
"Fine." JC gets up and leads the way toward the back of the house, where he's sure the washer and dryer are located. Isn't it?
"You don't even know where it is, do you?"
"It's . . . " He signed off on the plans. He knows it's here somewhere. "It's . . . behind the kitchen!" he says triumphantly, leading the way.
It's like JC has regressed to a 10-year-old, and Lance loves every minute. "See, you even hid your washing machine so you couldn't find it."
"It's right here. Right where I said it would be."
"It's never been used."
"Sure it has."
"When? Oh, I know--your housekeeper does it."
"No," JC says, trying surreptitiously to peel off the stickers that still adorn the machines. "At least I don't think so."
Lance nudges JC's hands off the top of the washer. "You really never used these! Oh my gosh! You've never done your own laundry!" Lance doubles over in laughter, barely able to breathe.
"I have, too. I used to, anyway, back in Orlando."
"So you've forgotten already? Oh man, this is sweet."
"I have a guest room. You can sleep in it."
"Aw, now don't be like that. Everyone has a first time. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. And you'll have yours with me."
"Okay, it's just that--and don't laugh at me--the machines I used before were simple. These are like state of the art or something. And they, well, intimidate me."
"I'm not gonna laugh. But the reason they're state-of-the-art is to make things easier. All you basically have to do is pour in the detergent and push a few buttons." Lance eyes JC narrowly. "You do have detergent, don't you?"
"Yes." JC triumphantly produces the jug. "But what are all these CYCLES, dude?"
"Ooo, that's the big laundry mystery. Come with me, young Skywalker, and you shall learn the secrets of the Wash."
"Now you're just being cruel. Using Star Wars against me."
"Not against. For you. Whatever gets you to use it. C'mon." He takes JC's hand and leads him back into the foyer, where they left their bags. He grabs two of them and hands them to JC, then takes two himself and leads JC back to the laundry room. "We didn't even have to leave a trail of bread crumbs."
JC makes a face. "Funny, Bass. REAL funny."
"It's about to get funnier." Lance drops the bags on the floor and empties out their contents. "The first thing we have to do is sort out the whites from the colors. You don't want to end up with pink underwear. Believe me."
"I know that part, Lance. My mom did teach me something, you know."
"Okay, okay. So let's get this stuff separated and we can do the whites first so I can show you the joy of clean underwear."
"'But I don't have any underwear to wash. Unless you want me to take off what I'm wearing."
"JC, look at all of this. You are NOT throwing it out. And yeah, you can throw those in too."
"You just want me to strip."
"You have a dirty mind, JC. Along with dirty underwear." Lance holds up a pair as evidence and makes a face.
"You're the one who told me to take them off." JC says, stripping his socks off. "And if you'd let me throw them out like I usually do, I wouldn't have any dirty underwear."
"You'd also be wasting all this money on underwear. And think of the environment. Now come on, let me have them."
"Come and get 'em."
"You're gonna be like that, are you? Well, if it gets you to clean your underwear . . . " Lance considers and then stands before JC, lifting his shirt up and off his head. "Might as well just wash everything."
"You can wash me if you want."
"First the clothes. Then you. Besides, you're not dirty enough. Yet." Lance flicks open the button on JC's pants and slides them down his legs.
"This laundry stuff is fun."
"Wait, we haven't even gotten to the good part yet," Lance says with a leer. He's lowering JC's shorts as he says this, trying not to eye the luscious organ he's exposing.
"What's the good part?"
"Maybe if you did your own LAUNDRY more often you'd know."
"Who has time?"
"Good point. But when you do have time. Look, you do a little laundry, you go for a swim, you do a little laundry, you chill in the hottub . . . "
"I'm sensing a water theme here."
"Water is your friend, JC. Now let's get these into the washer, and then we'll add the detergent. Lance marvels at the comfort level he has with JC; not only is he mixing their underwear together but JC is standing next to him completely naked.
JC stuffs clothes into the washer, then picks up the detergent. "Good. Now see on the back of the jug?" Lance moves behind JC, pointing out the instructions. "This tells you how much to use and what setting to put the machine on."
"Yeah, I know how to measure detergent," JC says, carefully filling the cup up to the line. "It's all these settings that confuse me. When I used to do this at Lynn's house, there were about two settings."
"This just makes it easier. Here, pour it in." Lance leans over JC and turns the dial. "Now we set it for hot water. We don't have to worry about anything else because these are just whites."
"My mom told me hot water makes stuff shrink."
Lance rolls his eyes. "Don't worry--this stuff is all preshrunk. If you have any doubts, that's what the labels are for."
"Okay, don't get mad. I just wanna do this RIGHT, if I'm gonna do it,"
"I'm not gonna let you ruin your clothes. Besides, would I let you shrink?"
"I'm not shrinking right now, I can tell you. Okay, hot water. But do I need to do anything with all this? Gentle cycle, permanent press . . . "
"No no--that's for the colors. Stuff we don't want to run or wrinkle. For now, we just chill. Whoa!" Lance steps back and pulls JC with him as the water kicks in and the machine starts to vibrate.
"Are you afraid of my washer, Lance?"
"No, not at all. I like your washer. NOW I get to show you the fun part."
"I'm all yours."
"This is the beauty of doing your own laundry. Hop on up." Lance places his hands on JC's waist and backs him up so his butt is almost touching the front of the washing machine.
"Up HERE?" JC points backwards at the machine.
"Yeah. Doesn't this feel good?" Lance closes the gap between JC and the machine, knowing very well how the cold surface must feel against JC's exposed skin.
"It feels . . . cold. Didn't we use hot water?"
"Yeah, it'll warm up in a minute. Now hop up."
"Okay. " JC boosts himself up onto the washer. "I don't remember this part from my other laundry experiences."
"That's why you don't like doing it. You never did it with me."
The expression in Lance's eyes is decidedly un-doing-chores-like. JC looks down at him, very aware that he's sitting here, naked, the machine vibrating quietly under him.
"How does that feel now?"
"Things are definitely warming up."
"Good," Lance says quietly, running his hands up JC's legs and parting them so he can stand between them. "It's about to get hotter."
"I'm ready," JC says breathily. "So ready."
Lance tilts his head up and covers JC's mouth with his lips while his hands are busy massaging the toned muscles of JC's thighs.
JC responds hungrily, leaning into the kiss. He takes Lance's face in both his hands in a gesture both tender and practical, as he angles Lance's face perfectly to his.
Lance's hands venture further up JC's legs, to the apex of the V formed by them, and when he comes into contact with JC's quickly hardening organ, he wraps one hand around it and begins to stroke slowly, lightly.
JC breaks their kiss, letting his head fall back with a pleased smile.
Lance uses this opportunity, and his tongue, to lick his way down JC's exposed neck. When he reaches the end, he places soft, wet kisses all along JC's shoulder.
"Mmmm. If I'd known about this part, I'd have been doing laundry all along."
"See?" Lance murmurs as he travels lower. "Some chores can be fun." He has to bend a little now, but it's worth it when his lips encounter one small, brown nipple. He flicks his tongue out and teases it to a tight peak, and he can feel the vibration of the washing machine through JC's body and on his tongue.
"You're so . . . domestic," JC sighs, running light fingers over Lance's arms and shoulders.
"Don't tell anyone," Lance whispers, moving to the other nipple. This time, he takes it between his teeth and rolls it lightly. His hand continues to stroke JC's erection, only a little more firmly.
"Your secret is safe with me."
"Maybe I need a little insurance." Lance kisses his way down JC's chest to the ripples of his abs, and then removes his hand and buries his face in the soft curls surrounding JC's throbbing erection. He breathes in the musky scent of his lover as though he were marking his territory.
JC's hands return to Lance's head, stroking the soft hair, encouraging.
Lance kisses the area surrounding JC's waiting erection, pausing to lick JC's balls. Finally, his tongue flicks out to lick just the tip of the twitching member, teasing it playfully, enjoying the sounds coming from JC's throat.
"Lance," JC hisses. "You're killing me, here."
Taking a moment to speak, Lance lifts his head. "It's supposed to feel good." The washer undulates quietly, and Lance smiles wickedly before taking JC into his mouth.
"Ohhhhhhh," JC moans. Not wanting to grip Lance too tightly, he grasps the sides of the washer instead.
Lance takes his time, swirling his tongue down the shaft, pausing when he reaches the base, before drawing up again, all the while enjoying the feel of the vibration of the machine under JC.
JC thinks nothing could possibly feel better. Then the machine kicks into "spin" and his world explodes. The vibration beneath him. Lance's hot mouth on him. He cries out, his voice rough with passion, and fights for control, wanting this to last as long as possible.
Gripping JC's legs tightly and trying not to laugh, Lance increases his tempo to match the whirring of the washer.
It's too much for JC and he climaxes, still clinging to the sides of the machine and whispering Lance's name.
Lance's hands are at the ready, holding JC by the waist, waiting patiently until he finishes, lingering while the washer continues its mechanical dance.
JC's hands, red from holding on so tightly, release the washer and come to rest once again on Lance's head. "Wow," is all he can manage.
Lance takes the hands in his own and finally lifts his head. "You like?"
"Yeah. We need to do chores more often."
"Well," Lance starts with a glint in his eye, "if you like the washer, wait till you see the dryer."
"But we're not wet."
"Last one in the pool . . . "