God, this house smelled like ass.
Chris sat in his underwear on the couch and sighed. Lynn had taken the infant and Lance out to buy pants, effectively busying them for the duration of Saturday. JC had gone home, to visit his family, and Joey was at work. There were only so many cartoons Chris could watch on a Saturday morning without his attention wandering off, and he’d done all the good ones anyway. Plus, the house smelled like ass.
Lynn washed her hands of everything but the kitchen, saying that it was their mess and she wasn’t going to clean it up. Chris secretly agreed with her, even though his room was a tornado waiting to happen. Lance’s things were almost obscenely ordered next to his mess, but then Lance had a little problem with washing his dishes after he ate something, so Chris didn’t feel too bad about that.
The only thing for it, Chris thought with a sinking heart, was to clean house. On a Saturday. Rising to new heights of lameness with every move, or so it seemed. With ultimate effort, he pulled himself out of the dent he made in the couch and stood up to survey the room.
There were movies and shit everywhere, sweatshirts and t-shirts piled in random corners. Absolutely grody dishes littered every conceivable surface, and there were cans and bottles of soda and beer strewn on the floor, the entertainment center, the tables, and the bookshelves. This was going to suck, Chris reflected.
He pulled on a shirt and got to work, grabbing a huge trash bag from the kitchen and studiously not looking at the mess still awaiting him in the dining room. Everything that couldn’t be salvaged was thrown away, with an incredible eleven pizza boxes taking up their own separate bag. The dishes were dumped in the sink, to be dealt with later (or maybe he could force Lance to do them) and the cds were carefully rearranged on the bookshelf by artist and then year of release. Chris put all the movies back in their cases, setting aside those that needed to be returned to the video store (and were probably overdue). The magazines and books were shoved unceremoniously onto the available space on the bookcase, and the clothes became a slightly terrifying pile in only one corner this time.
Chris took out the trash, shoved the clothes in the washer, and was trying to convince himself that the remaining smell wasn’t quite as bad as it was when Joey came home.
He almost threw himself at Joey once he made it through the door. “I will give you a blowjob if you vacuum the house,” he promised with batting eyelashes.
“You’d give me a blowjob anyway,” Joey said airily, dropping his bag in the hall and surveying Chris’s morning work.
“Yeah, but I’ll give you a *really nice* blowjob if you vacuum,” Chris said, knowing that it was ungraceful to plead as he was doing.
Joey grinned at him. “Okay,” he said, going to the hall closet to grab the vacuum, and Chris did a little happy dance in the hallway.
“I saw that!” Joey said over his shoulder.
Chris grinned. “Don’t care,” he said. “I’m gonna go tackle the dining room.” He couldn’t hear Joey’s words of doom over the sudden roar of the Hoover.
Chris took his garbage bag and started bouncing to the Janet Jackson Joey blasted over the living room stereo. He was astonished to find another fifteen pizza boxes, and wondered if it was possible to subsist of pepperoni alone. More clothes made it to the washer when he shifted over the first load to the dryer, and really, they were all fucking pigs and he should demand cleanliness from them.
Tying a handkerchief over his mouth and wielding disinfectant spray as if the tables were going to jump at him for offending their delicate sensibilities, he started cleaning every surface scrubable, switching to the living room when Joey came to vacuum the dining room. They exchanged grins at each other over the strains of Gwen Stefani, though Chris’s smile could only been seen by his eyes.
Singing happily along with the music, Chris got through cleaning the living room in record time and set on the downstairs bathroom with renewed vigor. The upstairs bathroom was Justin’s domain, which he cleaned every week without fail under his mother’s watchful eye; Lynn kept her own half-bath off the master bedroom far away from all of them.
When the entire first floor rang with the acrid scent of aerosol and the almost-sweet smell of just-vacuumed carpet, Chris sat down on the couch once more and nodded proudly at all their work.
“You know, I did the couch too, and found ten bucks in coins and bills,” Joey said, leaning against the door.
“You gonna split that with me, pretty boy?” Chris said, waggling his fingers suggestively.
“Hey, I’ve already got a blowjob out of this; that plus ten bucks is all the payment I need,” said Joey, walking over to the couch and straddling Chris, whose hands came to rest easily on his hips. “Speaking of blowjobs,” he said with a grin.
“Of course, Mr Fatone. Please let me oblige you,” Chris said, undoing the top button of Joey’s jeans.
“Dude, you can oblige all day long if you want,” Joey said with a quick intake of breath as Chris started mouthing kisses down Joey’s chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “Move,” Chris whispered, shoving Joey over so that he was splayed out on the couch. Chris knelt on the other end, his leg falling over the side, and pulled down Joey’s jeans.
The first brush of Chris’s breath over Joey’s cock was enough to elicit a gasp from him, and Chris smiled against Joey’s hip. He’d seen the outline of Joey’s hard-on against his jeans while they were cleaning, and he knew that Joey’s vivid imagination was working against him the whole time.
Chris slipped his mouth over the head of Joey’s cock, staying there for a moment until Joey stopped wriggling with pleasure. He let his mouth slide down farther, carefully, until his nose hit the fingers that were grasping the base of Joey’s dick. Up and down, up and down, Chris thought, listening to the bass of Depeche Mode under Joey’s stream of words.
He ran his hand up Joey’s stomach, scratching lightly at the hair there, and Joey’s hand came to rest on Chris’s head, encouraging him with slight pressure.
Chris pulled back to get a breath of air, rolling his eyes at Joey’s snort of disappointment. He licked a stripe up the side of Joey’s dick, jacking him slowly with one hand and pinching his nipples with the other. He was rewarded when Joey gave a sharp whine at the combined pleasure, returning his head to Joey’s dick and sucking at the tip until Joey came down his throat with a guttural groan that made Chris shiver every time he heard it.
Chris crawled up Joey’s languid body, threading his fingers through Joey’s as Joey’s leg came up to hold him close. “That was a great blowjob, Chris,” he said with a grin.
“Well, I knew that,” Chris replied importantly.
“But dude, you have to take a shower. You smell like ass.”
Huh. Maybe it hadn’t been the living room after all.