Fic(let): Mate (Chris/Lance)
This is not the story I wanted to post for Trickyfish Day, but I worked half of the night yesterday to prepare English exercises for my classmates and then studied all day today and I didn't get the other one done in time. I had this little something done for a while, but it fits the day, and kind of the challenge theme, and, incidently, also one of the slashfic25 prompts: #7, Below.
Mate
by mira
Lance loved the summer at his parents' house, despite the hotness and the sticky air that always settled over everyone and everything in Mississippi, from the cows lying on the dusty ground in the afternoon sun to the mosquitoes lazily crawling through the condensation on the glasses.
Summer was the time when Lance could spend his days outside at the pool - or floating in the pool with his eyes closed, listening to his niece splashing around, the waves lapping at Lance's feet. The evenings were filled with long, excessive parties on the back patio where anyone who had enough money or influence was invited. They often lasted well into the night, his mother weaving through the illustrious guests like it was the only thing she lived for - and Lance sometimes thought she did.
However, summer was also the time when Chris would chase him around the garden, laughing like the child that Chris had never been allowed to be until Lance's family had taken him in.
"C'mon, old man. You tired?" Lance called over his shoulder, running over the grass, away from the house. Even in the dry summer months Lance's father always hired somebody to water the lawn and keep the bushes neatly trimmed.
"What did you call me?" Chris shouted behind him.
Lance's words seemed to spur Chris on even more, and Chris got faster, catching up quickly, until Lance tripped over a stone and stumbled. He just about managed not to fall, pulling himself upright, when Chris' weight crashed into him from behind, toppling them both to the ground. Lance gasped sharply as the air was knocked out of him, then Chris bounced off his back and pulled him up, propping him against a tree. Lance didn't even have the chance to properly catch his breath before Chris hooked a hand behind Lance's neck and pulled him forward into a kiss.
Lance planted both hands firmly on Chris' chest and shoved him back. "What the fuck do you think you're you doing? Are you insane?" He wiped his forehead, still breathing hard.
Chris had a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and as Lance leaned forward, he caught a hint of salt, mixed with soap and Chris' own unique smell. Chris grinned at him in that mischievous way with just one corner of his mouth quirked, that he had picked up - as Lance suspected - purely to annoy Lance. "If you don't know the answer to that by now..."
Of course Lance knew. Chris was a troublemaker, always had been. But while spying on the kitchen maids in their rooms after dark might be a fun thing to do to pass the time, mating with somebody so high above Chris' own social status was illegal.
"'Mating'?" Amused, Chris drew up one eyebrow.
"It's the official term," Lance muttered, looking down. And hardly the point. Lance kicked the ground with his feet.
They stood in silence for a while, until their breathing had settled down and Lance's pulse wasn't fluttering quite as wildly anymore but was reduced to a strong, steady beat. Lance leaned back against the cool bark of the tree, waiting for Chris to say something, because if Chris knew the one thing that Lance had been thinking, he had surely gotten the rest of it, too - and he wouldn't like it. Sure enough, Chris eventually put his hand under Lance's chin and tipped his head up. His face was serious when he spoke, calm and unreadable. "Do you really think my class is so much lower than yours?"
Not for the first time Lance cursed the ritual that had bound him to Chris. Sure it was way practical to have a servant who always knew what you wanted, when you wanted it and how, without ever needing to open your mouth and voice it. Only that Chris had stopped being a servant to Lance a long time ago and become a lover instead. Somehow Lance doubted that was what his parents had had in mind when they'd chosen Chris. Usually, Lance was quite good at controlling what he projected, but sometimes his guard slipped just a little and Chris picked up on something. Add in the fact that Chris could read Lance's facial expressions by only so much as glancing at him by now, and Lance thought it must be just like opening a book for Chris, where all of Lance's thoughts were printed down, neat and clear.
"You know I don't." Lance said softly. He looked up out of his own volition now, keeping his head raised and his eyes on Chris' face. He touched Chris' cheek, thumb resting lightly at the corner of Chris' mouth. "If anything, your class is so much higher than mine."
Chris looked at him almost fondly for a minute, then opened his mouth and bit Lance's thumb. Hard.
Lance swore, snatching his throbbing finger away. He wanted to lean forward and return the favor - preferably somewhere where it hurt, but Chris was already laughing and running away toward the small lake again. Lance sucked his thumb into his mouth and raced after him.
End.
Mate
by mira
Lance loved the summer at his parents' house, despite the hotness and the sticky air that always settled over everyone and everything in Mississippi, from the cows lying on the dusty ground in the afternoon sun to the mosquitoes lazily crawling through the condensation on the glasses.
Summer was the time when Lance could spend his days outside at the pool - or floating in the pool with his eyes closed, listening to his niece splashing around, the waves lapping at Lance's feet. The evenings were filled with long, excessive parties on the back patio where anyone who had enough money or influence was invited. They often lasted well into the night, his mother weaving through the illustrious guests like it was the only thing she lived for - and Lance sometimes thought she did.
However, summer was also the time when Chris would chase him around the garden, laughing like the child that Chris had never been allowed to be until Lance's family had taken him in.
"C'mon, old man. You tired?" Lance called over his shoulder, running over the grass, away from the house. Even in the dry summer months Lance's father always hired somebody to water the lawn and keep the bushes neatly trimmed.
"What did you call me?" Chris shouted behind him.
Lance's words seemed to spur Chris on even more, and Chris got faster, catching up quickly, until Lance tripped over a stone and stumbled. He just about managed not to fall, pulling himself upright, when Chris' weight crashed into him from behind, toppling them both to the ground. Lance gasped sharply as the air was knocked out of him, then Chris bounced off his back and pulled him up, propping him against a tree. Lance didn't even have the chance to properly catch his breath before Chris hooked a hand behind Lance's neck and pulled him forward into a kiss.
Lance planted both hands firmly on Chris' chest and shoved him back. "What the fuck do you think you're you doing? Are you insane?" He wiped his forehead, still breathing hard.
Chris had a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and as Lance leaned forward, he caught a hint of salt, mixed with soap and Chris' own unique smell. Chris grinned at him in that mischievous way with just one corner of his mouth quirked, that he had picked up - as Lance suspected - purely to annoy Lance. "If you don't know the answer to that by now..."
Of course Lance knew. Chris was a troublemaker, always had been. But while spying on the kitchen maids in their rooms after dark might be a fun thing to do to pass the time, mating with somebody so high above Chris' own social status was illegal.
"'Mating'?" Amused, Chris drew up one eyebrow.
"It's the official term," Lance muttered, looking down. And hardly the point. Lance kicked the ground with his feet.
They stood in silence for a while, until their breathing had settled down and Lance's pulse wasn't fluttering quite as wildly anymore but was reduced to a strong, steady beat. Lance leaned back against the cool bark of the tree, waiting for Chris to say something, because if Chris knew the one thing that Lance had been thinking, he had surely gotten the rest of it, too - and he wouldn't like it. Sure enough, Chris eventually put his hand under Lance's chin and tipped his head up. His face was serious when he spoke, calm and unreadable. "Do you really think my class is so much lower than yours?"
Not for the first time Lance cursed the ritual that had bound him to Chris. Sure it was way practical to have a servant who always knew what you wanted, when you wanted it and how, without ever needing to open your mouth and voice it. Only that Chris had stopped being a servant to Lance a long time ago and become a lover instead. Somehow Lance doubted that was what his parents had had in mind when they'd chosen Chris. Usually, Lance was quite good at controlling what he projected, but sometimes his guard slipped just a little and Chris picked up on something. Add in the fact that Chris could read Lance's facial expressions by only so much as glancing at him by now, and Lance thought it must be just like opening a book for Chris, where all of Lance's thoughts were printed down, neat and clear.
"You know I don't." Lance said softly. He looked up out of his own volition now, keeping his head raised and his eyes on Chris' face. He touched Chris' cheek, thumb resting lightly at the corner of Chris' mouth. "If anything, your class is so much higher than mine."
Chris looked at him almost fondly for a minute, then opened his mouth and bit Lance's thumb. Hard.
Lance swore, snatching his throbbing finger away. He wanted to lean forward and return the favor - preferably somewhere where it hurt, but Chris was already laughing and running away toward the small lake again. Lance sucked his thumb into his mouth and raced after him.
End.