dragon challenge header

not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment

X Aces High

by Pen

Chris realized a split second too late that answering his cell had been a bad move, but by then the words, "Chris Kirkpatrick, hi," were out of his mouth and the person who'd just called was saying Hi back. "Ah, Eric, yeah, good to talk to you, man. No, no, I was just about to have wild monkey sex with my unbelievably hot boyfriend, it's fine."

So Eric laughed, and told Chris about the new club opening at the weekend, and mentioned an idea he'd had that Chris might be able to use for the next Mask Car Aid ball, and eventually got around to talking about the new girl he'd taken out a couple of nights ago, which obviously was the point of the call, and by the time Chris managed to extricate himself his unbelievably hot boyfriend had put his pants on and gone back downstairs and was sitting frowning over his laptop.

"Uh," said Chris, uncomfortably aware that he was in big trouble. "That was Eric. He says hi."

"Does he?" Lance said.

"Okay, he doesn't say hi. I made that up."

"No shit," said Lance, still not raising his eyes from his laptop.

"Um," Chris said. He was going to have to do some serious groveling. They had been warming up for the second round—if it had been the first round he wouldn't even have heard the phone—but it looked like he was out of luck now. "You want a beer?"

"Sure, why not." Okay, maybe Lance would forgive him. Sometime this century. Chris fetched the beer.

"So, whatcha doin'?"

"Looking up sexual positions on the internet," Lance said, unexpectedly, as he accepted the chilled bottle. "There's a couple of different ones they're calling the Dragon."

"Sounds good?" Chris ventured.

"Nothing we haven't tried before," Lance said. "And neither of them very exciting, either. I think people give stuff stupid names so they can pretend they're doing something amazing."

"Chinese or Western dragons?"

"See for yourself."

Chris bent to peer at the screen. No, Lance was right, nothing spectacular there. "I guess there's a limit to the ways two human bodies can combine," he observed. Lance made an unimpressed noise. Lance was interested in variety. It was hard work, keeping up with Lance's demands—not that Chris was in any way unwilling or unable to do so, but he couldn't afford to slack. He definitely couldn't afford to break off from kissing Lance's neck in order to answer the phone. Chris was going to have to pull off something spectacular today to make up for that.

He placed his hand tentatively on Lance's shoulder. Lance ignored it, which was good, because at least he hadn't gotten up and moved to another seat. Encouraged, Chris smoothed over the perfect apricot skin with his thumb, and dropped a kiss on a cluster of freckles. He adored Lance's freckles. They weren't so much imperfections as decorations. Embellishment, as though Lance's body needed embellishment.

Chris's pallid Irish skin freckled too, but his own weren't exactly decorative. He fretted, often, about the disaparity between Lance's perfectly beautiful body and his own perfectly ordinary one. For now, Lance didn't seem to mind, probably Chris had managed to convince him years ago that he was seriously hot and the delusion still persisted, but one day Lance would notice that his boyfriend wasn't tanned and toned and gorgeous. Chris was prepared to work as hard as it took to make sure that day was a long time coming.

Chris spent quite a bit of time and money on sex, these days.


Lance was not that pissed at Chris, not really. In truth he was still feeling very mellow from the extremely satisfactory sex they'd had when he arrived. But Lance had settled on a policy regarding Chris, because Lance knew Chris very well. He had said, quite explicitly, "You see, Chris, my boyfriend needs to think very hard about what turns me on and how to surprise me and what he can do next to make me scream. Basically he needs to be a demon in the sack."

Joey had remonstrated with him, just a few days ago, but Lance was adamant. He had to keep Chris on his toes. While Chris was making every effort to keep Lance happy, he was not looking around at the hordes of pretty people who would be willing to make every effort to keep Chris happy. This, Lance felt, was in everybody's best interest, since nobody else out there would love Chris as much as he, Lance, loved him. Joey was not entirely impressed with the argument, but Joey had Kelly, who was a sensible human being. Lance had Chris, who would sabotage his own happiness in five minutes, given the opportunity, and Lance was not going to let him do that.

So Lance was pleased to learn that Chris had devised a new card game.

Well, not so much a game, it turned out. A neat little method of adding a bit of random chance to their sex life.

"Hearts are for blowjobs," Chris explained, "and clubs are handjobs. Spades are fucking, and diamonds are winner's choice. We each pick a card, and the highest card determines which of us gets to take the lead, and the lowest card determines what we do. So, like, if I got the three of spades and you got the jack of hearts, we'd fuck, but you'd get to decide which of us would top."

"All right, then," said Lance, and pulled Chris close to kiss him with intense dedication. Kissing Chris was in fact one of the things he most enjoyed doing, ever, and things progressed fairly steadily on the making out scale until they were unzipped and rubbing against each other and groaning in harmony.

"So," Lance said, breaking off the kiss. "You got a pack of cards?"

He drew out the nine of diamonds. Hmm, could be a winner, but then Chris drew the ace and waved it gleefully.


This was the perfect opportunity to make up for the phone call. Chris had been browsing the sex toy sites only last week and discovered something that looked like it should have Lance screaming. Good thing it had arrived in time.

So now he had Lance naked again, splayed out on his bed and, as usual, telling him to get on with it. Lance was a bossy bitch, but mostly, Chris liked being encouraged to get on with stuff, and if he wasn't in the mood to be ordered about he liked to argue, so it all worked out.

"Winner's choice, and I get to call the shots, remember?" he reminded Lance, and kissed him again, sliding his hand along Lance's very hard cock for good measure. "I got you a gift, we're going to see if you like it."

"What is that thing?" Lance said, raising his head.

"It's a dolphin."

"It really isn't," Lance muttered. Lance was petty that way.

"It's a Dolphin Glass Anal Dildo," Chris assured him, "and I've been keeping it in the refrigerator, specially for you." Lance made a face, but his cock twitched in anticipation. Oh yes, Chris knew his man. He dipped the 'dolphin', which in truth really wasn't a whole lot like a dolphin, but was an interesting curved shape of sleek black glass, into the pot of lube, and poked his finger in there too.

Lance loved having things in his ass. Chris's finger made him very happy for several minutes, then it was time for the dolphin. "Ready?" he asked, and slid the bulbous glass tip inside. Lance made some very gratifying noises, and wriggled beautifully. Chris licked his cock lovingly from base to glistening tip, then pushed the dildo in the rest of the way.

"Oh sweet holy fuck!"

Chris watched in delight as Lance's ass came up off the bed and he spread his legs wider, tilting his pelvis and closing his eyes as he whimpered with pleasure.

"God, Chris. That's—fuck, that's just, fuck, that hits the spot." Lance's face was glowing pink, and the sight of him writhing on the toy was almost more than Chris could stand. He eased himself down beside Lance, leaning on one elbow so that he could watch Lance's face as he jerked him slowly with his right hand, reaching down occasionally to tweak at the dildo's ring handle and make Lance plead for more. It didn't take Lance long to come, a long, stuttered note as his cock pulsed silky slick over Chris's fingers, and he shuddered ecstatically as Chris slowly drew the dolphin out again and pushed his cock deep inside for a few quick thrusts until he was coming too, whispering into Lance's neck the words he couldn't help but say, every time.


It took Lance a while to get his eyes to focus. That dolphin thing didn't look like much but when it was inside him, the feel of it against his prostate was wickedly intense. Chris was a sex genius. Lance was never, never letting him get away.

They lay there, Chris half covering Lance, both of them too shattered to move for several minutes, until at last Chris slithered off the bed to find a washcloth and get them tidied up. Lance opened his arms for Chris to slide back against him, and kissed his hair. "You should probably know," he murmured, "you're doing good. With the making me scream thing."

"I noticed," Chris said, and Lance could feel the grin against his chest. He held on tight.

Never, never letting him get away.



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