Page 16 of Lance
Lance rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile that came to his own lips.
“Really? ATitanicreference?” That was pretty funny, coming from someone who tried to give the impression that he was way too cool for that sort of thing. And the whole time, too, Lance was far too aware of the casual, intimate way that Jamie had propped his feet up on Lance’s lap.
Before long, Lance had a simple sketch done, not anything fancy but he was pleased with his work. He was a bit rusty, but it had turned out pretty well, he thought, the lines crisp and clear, the face recognizably Jamie’s.
“Can I see?” Jamie asked, and Lance shrugged and handed it over. That was probably a fair enough thing to ask—he figured—since it was pretty relevant to Jamie. Not to mention, while it made him a bit nervous to show his work off, especially since it had been so long since he had, it was also sort of nice to let someone else see.
“Huh.” Jamie looked at the worn old sketchbook for a long time and then smirked a little bit at him. It wasn’t like it mattered if Jamie liked it or not, Lance told himself, but he couldn’t deny the clawing of anxiety at his gut. “You’re pretty good. You know that?”
Lance tried not to like that, he really did. He tried to deny the warm glow that started in the base of his stomach and radiated through his body, but deny it or not—it was there. His hands shifted down to rest on Jamie’s feet, which were still nestled in his lap, and without even really thinking about it he started to rub them.
“Oh fuck,” Jamie whispered, and he wiggled his toes in his socks, giving a soft little noise that was closer to a purr than anything else. He pressed his feet toward Lance’s fingers, and Lance smiled a little at the reaction and rubbed over the toes, cupped the heel, and even pressed into the arches of the feet.
Jamie’s eyes closed, and he slipped the sketchbook onto the coffee table, head resting back on the arm of the couch as he pushed his feet toward Lance. Lance grinned. Jamie was such a sensual being, and unfortunately for him, unfortunately for both of them, they had that in common.
“Does that feel good?” Lance prompted, and Jamie slit his eyes, a flash of cerulean, to peer at Lance, giving him a nod before he settled back down.
“Yeah. Don’t stop,” Jamie demanded, and even though Lance was fully, completely aware that he should, even though he knew that this was a terrible idea, he didn’t stop. Anything that would make Jamie make noises like that, he found far too compelling to stay away from.
It was just a foot rub, though. It didn’t mean anything. Or so Lance told himself, excusing himself from the behavior which he knew wasn’t nearly as innocent as he might like to pretend.
Only he was getting hard, and he couldn’t deny that. His cock was swelling in his pants, and Jamie’s feet were far too close to it. It didn’t seem possible that Jamie could miss it, not for long, and when he saw the smirk of pure mischief on the other man’s beautiful face, he knew very well that he’d been caught.
“Huh. Is this a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Jamie purred, and his eyes opened again, everything about his slender, seemingly relaxed body on the couch seductive and sensual and far too erotic for Lance’s peace of mind.
How was any human being so damn hot? How was Lance supposed to resist, when Jamie was smirking at him like that, when the ball of his foot was slipping up to rest lightly on the bulge which was swelling more than ever, making the front of Lance’s pants feel far too tight and restrictive?
“… Jamie …”
The other man sat up, then, pulling his feet out of Lance’s grasp and shifting closer to him on the couch. He slid into his lap instead, straddling him, gazing down into Lance’s eyes with the sweetest, most aroused eyes, pale cheeks flushed, and that smirk lingering on those beautiful lips of his.
Lance had tasted those lips before, and now that they were so close to him once again, he had no idea how he was going to keep himself from doing it once more.
“Everyone’s asleep,” Jamie whispered—a blatant challenge in his eyes, a challenge that Lance somehow had to resist. Even from the beginning, though, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to, and that it was hopeless. This man was just way, way too good at turning him on, and the harder he got, the more the heat flew through him, the sparks shooting between his eyes and Jamie’s, the more he realized that he wasn’t sure it was even possible for him not to want this man.
“Yeah,” Lance breathed. It was late. They’d been hanging out, Jamie watching TV and Lance drawing, for a long time. No one had stirred out of their room in at least an hour, and truthfully, Lance knew that he should go to bed. Jerk off, if he had to release this tension which coiled inside of him.
But his hand wouldn’t feel even half as good as Jamie could make him feel.
“So …” Jamie reached down between their bodies, cupping the hardness that he found in Lance’s pants, rubbing his fingers teasingly over the swollen head. “Let me take care of you. Just once more. No one will know.”
Lance groaned. He rocked his hips up, rubbing against Jamie’s teasing, talented hand, knowing full well that this man could give him so much more. Knowing, just from the one time they’d been together before, that Jamie could make it good for him.
There was really no chance of him resisting. He leaned in, pressing his lips against Jamie’s, feeling the heat and the pressure and the tension writhe and build inside of him. At that moment, something almost crazed woke up in him, something reckless and fearless, something that had probably been inevitable from the moment that Jamie pushed his feet into Lance’s lap.
They kissed, and any restraint that Lance had managed to hold onto was swept away in the pure, burning arousal that Jamie brought up so effortlessly in his eager body. He moaned, and their tongues swept together, bodies straining to get closer, tugging at each other’s clothing.
Lance knew that they should go into a bedroom, his or Jamie’s. Sure, it was late, and sure, everyone was most likely asleep, but they could be caught. That reckless part of him, though, half hoped that they would be. Or he at least enjoyed the thought of it, which added extra urgency to their movements.
Besides, it probably wasn’t a good idea for them to share a bed. Things had already gotten so far out of hand. Or that was how he justified staying right where he was to himself.
Desperate hands plucked at each other’s clothing, and Lance tugged down the fly of Jamie’s jeans just as Jamie was opening his up. Talented fingers reached into Lance’s open fly, easing out his cock, and then, with another smirk that practically dripped mischief, Jamie slid down between Lance’s legs and rested on his knees between them.
There were no more words between them, maybe because they both sensed that if they spoke, they would have to admit how terrible an idea this was. As it was, they could just go, just let their bodies take over.
Lance stifled a little cry as Jamie leaned in, his pink tongue slipping out to rub over the head of Lance’s aching dick. Reaching down, Lance tangled his fingers in those soft curls, groaning as he guided it, his hips pressing up off the couch and into Jamie’s mouth.
Jamie’s mouth, so hot and slick and smooth, slid down his shaft, and though it started off slow and careful, neither of them seemed to have much patience for that. Lance gave another low but erotically charged, little cry as he rocked up into Jamie’s mouth.
