Improv ficlet for Kennedy.
by Lesa Soja
Lance runs into JC in a hallway on the way back from the bathroom. JC's tie is loosened, and he has his plate of cake in his hand.
"Hey, C," Lance says. "How you doing?"
"Good," JC says. "Good."
Lance hesitates a moment and then turns to lean back against the wall next to JC. "What a day, huh?"
"Kelly looks happy," JC says.
"Joey looks happy, too," Lance says quickly.
"Not hungry?" Lance says. JC looks down at the plate he's holding. "It's good stuff," Lance adds. "Vanilla and raspberry."
"You want it?" JC says.
"Um," Lance says, and JC pushes the plate into his hand. "Okay, sure." JC doesn't seem to have a fork, though, and Lance pauses, shifting his fingers a bit on the rim.
"Here," JC says suddenly, and before Lance knows what's happening JC pushes his fingers into the cake, scoops up a soft hunk and holds his hand up to Lance's mouth.
"Uh -" Lance says, and then JC's fingers press in between his lips, brushing his tongue, smearing icing on his teeth. "Shee -" he says, garbled, chokes it down, and tries again. "JC -", but JC's hand is back already, more cake. Lance tries to swallow again, and his lips close on JC's fingers.
JC leaves them there.
Lance darts one glance at JC's oddly intent expression, then lets his eyes fall closed as he tightens his lips to suck. He doesn't know, he doesn't get it, but JC, he thinks, and he shifts his tongue eagerly from one fingertip to the next as JC turns them. JC.
When Lance has licked off the last of the icing, JC draws his hand away. Lance lets it go with a breathless sigh that's cut off by JC's mouth.
JC kisses him softly, three, maybe four times, his palm coming up to cup Lance's cheek, and there's still sugar between their lips. Lance can still feel it grainy on his tongue when JC pulls back.
"You look happy," JC tells him in a low tone. Lance nods without opening his eyes.