With I Your Faithful Consort

This is not an AU.

“Look, Slayer, I’ve had about enough of your shit. I’m going out of town, as it’s obvious you won’t accept help even when it’s shoved in your face. So if you’d kindly leave, I’ll pack my things and go,” Chris said angrily.

“Fine,” Lance said tightly and made for the door.

Just as he was about to leave, Lance felt a strong grip on his elbow. He twisted out of the hold and shoved Chris backwards on the bed. “What did I tell you, Chris? This was the last time, the *last* time we were doing this. We said–” Lance realized his hands were clenched firmly in Chris’s thin shirt and let go abruptly. He stepped back, looking at Chris sprawled out on the bed, an annoying smirk on his face.

“We said that we’d stop this. It’s not good for either of us, Chris,” Lance said with as much coldness as he could muster.

Chris’s hand slid down his chest, over his cock, down his thigh, chuckling as Lance’s eyes followed every movement. He laughed. “That may be, Slayer, but you want something. You want this. And as much as it pained me to admit, I don’t mind you either. There’s no reason we can’t–” his hand shifted back up to his cock “–mind each other together.”

Lance snorted, looked at the ceiling, but didn’t leave.

Chris sat up, then stood, slowly making his way to where Lance was standing. “C’mon Slayer,” he murmured, barely brushing against Lance’s body. “You want me.”

Lance’s arms dropped to his sides. Chris chuckled and moved closer, resting his hands on Lance’s hips and pulling Lance’s body into his own.

Chris captured Lance’s mouth, tugging his body until their cocks were aligned and Lance was thrusting lazily against him. Lance’s hands reached behind his back, tightened in his shirt against his shoulder blades. Chris’s hand slipped up the back of Lance’s jacket and t-shirt, scratching his nails down supple skin to make Lance arch and gasp.

Lance maneuvered them to the bed, falling forwards to land on Chris, who whuffed out a gust of air in response. Lance sort-of grinned down at him. “Thought vampires didn’t have to breathe?”

“Well, sometimes it’s useful,” Chris said, just before he bit and licked at Lance’s earlobe. “And sometimes it’s not,” he said, making eyes downward.

They kissed and rubbed against each other until Lance made a small “oh” sound and Chris grunted; they used the bedsheets to wipe themselves off, and rolled so they were lying next to each other staring at the ceiling.

“Okay, so *this* is the last time,” Lance said.

Chris laughed. “That’s what you say every time. Slayer.”

Lance grinned and ducked his head against the pillow.

“Dude, we gotta stop watching Buffy. Maybe the Pretender next time?” Chris said, throwing an arm over Lance’s chest.

Lance just laughed.