Stuck On You

A second variation on a theme from Magnificent Butcher

By Renee Tremblay



"But it’s not fair." Chai stuck out his lower lip. 
"This is going to take me forever."

"It certainly will if you keep stopping and whinging
 instead of getting on with it," said Fung, from his
 vantage point, cross-legged on the top of the kitchen table. 

Chai gave him a filthy look and went back to mopping 
the floor. He wasn't making a very good job of it. Little
 trails of watery flour 
followed him everywhere. A fair amount of it had transferred
 to his person, too, one way and another. Some of it had 
even got into his hair. It was going to take a lot of scrubbing
 to get him clean again. 
Fung contemplated the prospect, happily.

"You don’t," Chai grumbled, "have to sit there looking smug."

"Wong sifu said I was to keep an eye on you."

"You could help. It’s your fault this mess happened, anyway."

Fung put his head on one side. "How did you arrive at that 
notion? You're the one that got water all over the floor."

"I tripped over the end of that bench."

"You're the one who left the bench there in the first place."

"No, I’m not, it was Ah Wing."

"And then you knocked the flour vat off the table with the 
end of the mop. Nothing to do with me."

Chai stopped mopping again, and looked round. "It was so."

"How?" 

There were smears of  flour and water paste everywhere on 
Chai's torso. If Fung held him against a wall for a few minutes,
 he'd probably stick. As an idea, it had its good points. Just 
knowing where Chai was could be a distinct advantage.

Chai said "I only knocked it over because I went dizzy."

"You mean clumsy," Fung said, helpfully.

A suspicious quiver set in in that lower lip. "No, I don’t. 
I was dizzy because I’m tired. I’m tired because I didn’t get
 enough sleep last night, or the night before, or the one 
before that, or the one…"

"All right, all right." Fung held up a hand. "I get the idea."

Chai stuck to his guns. "And I only didn’t get enough sleep 
because you kept me awake by molesting me!"

"What?" Fung sat bolt upright with indignation.

"You did!" Chai leant on the mop, and glared. "Which means 
it's all your fault. And it’s not fair."

"I molested you?" Fung was almost breathless with outrage. 
"Just exactly who was it who couldn't keep his hands to himself
 in the bath-house? And in the loft, and behind the hen run, 
and in the river, and underneath the desk in the main room and…?"

"You," said Chai, firmly, and went back to mopping. 

Every once in a while, he gave a loud sniff. He was going to 
cry. He always cried when he didn't get his own way.

Fung hardened his heart. Chai was going to have to learn to 
take responsibility for his actions one of these days. Fung 
rested his hands on his knees, and went back to watching. 
Little beads of sweat were forming on Chai's naked back, 
mingling with the dried flour. Fung could count the ribs under that warm skin. If he were to run his tongue up along them, Chai 
would giggle and squirm. He would taste strange, at the moment,
 under his dusting of flour. Chai gave another big sniff and 
turned round. 

"I’m getting blisters." A big fat tear meandered down one 
cheek. He held out a grubby hand. "Look."

"I can't see any blisters."

"My back aches." Yet another sniff. "I'm ruining my hands. 
I won't be any good at practice tomorrow and sifu will beat me.
 And anyway it'll take me all night to finish this and then I'll
 be short of sleep again and… and it just isn't fair!" The last 
word turned into a wail. Chai put his hands over his face, the mop
 fell to the floor with a clatter.

He looked completely ridiculous, smeared with flour and sweat. 
No doubt he was trying to look pathetic, in the hope Fung would
 help him – or do it for him. It wasn't going to work. 

Briskly, Fung said, "Keep working."

"You don't care!"

"Not a lot," Fung agreed.

Chai raised his head and glowered. It looked utterly foolish,
 what with the white streaks and the tears. Despite himself, 
Fung burst out laughing. Chai's unstable lower lip quivered 
some more, then he bent and scooped up a handful of flour, 
and threw it at Fung.

That was mutiny. Fung stopped laughing. "Get on with the cleaning,
 sai-louh."

"I won't." Chai folded his arms.

Fung rolled neatly up the table and made a grab for him. Chai 
tried to dodge, tripped over the mop and started to fall. Fung
 caught him, got him into an arm lock, and frog-marched him over
 to the table. He was half a head taller than Chai, and a lot 
broader. It was deliciously easy to gain mastery. 

Fung sat himself down on the edge of the table, and pulled the wriggling youngster across his knees. 

"Are  you going to behave?"

"No!" Chai tried to hit Fung with his free hand. Fung caught it 
and sat on it.  "That hurts… da-go, you're nothing but a bully."

He was mouthy and insolent and impossible. Fung contemplated 
the squirming body draped across his lap. Chai's feet dangled 
about three inches from the floor. He was trying to kick. Fung 
looked at Chai's cotton-clad buttocks for a moment, then brought
 the palm of his hand down across them, sharply.

Chai yelled. It was a good thing that Wing had gone home, and 
Wong sifu had gone to visit Master Lam, and taken So with him. 
Fung pulled the protesting Chai into a more convenient position,
 head and feet hanging helplessly, and settled into a rhythm. 
Smack. Really, Chai had been asking for this for weeks… smack….
 he'd been getting totally out of control… smack… talking back….
 smack… acting out…. smack… showing off… smack…  A pleasant glow
 started in Fung’s loins, and spread out, all along his nerves. 
Smack. Something firm and warm had formed in the front of Chai's
 trousers, and was pressing into Fung's thigh, in time with the 
spanking. Smack. The direction and purpose of Chai's wriggling 
had changed. Smack. 

"Oh," Fung said, "so you like that, do you?"

"Let me go!" Chai panted.

"Why?" Fung was enjoying himself. 

He ran his hand over the firm curve of Chai's bottom, then slid 
it down between his thighs, probing through the cotton. Chai gave
 a gasp, and pressed his erection hard into Fung's thigh. This was
 starting to go places Fung hadn't been expecting. He liked it. 

He moved his hand some more. "Where did you say it ached?"

He found the sensitive place just below Chai's scrotal sac, and 
pressed. Chai whimpered.

Fung pushed him off his lap onto the floor. Chai landed on his butt,
 and sat there, staring up in surprise. His eyes had gone wide and
 round. Fung considered him for a moment. 

"Didn't you have a job to do?"

"I hate you!" 

Chai grabbed both of Fung's ankles, and tugged, hard. Fung slid off 
the table and landed on Chai. Chai's hands released him, grabbed at 
his shoulders, nails digging in. Chai's sharp little teeth sank into
 his throat. 

"Bastard," Chai said, indistinctly. "Bully. Monster." 

The teeth went lower, biting along Fung's collarbone and making 
him gasp, in turn. He wound his hands into Chai's  hair and 
pulled his head up.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Fung asked, a little 
unsteadily. 

Chai's hands were running down his spine, stroking and 
kneading. He handed landed on his knees, astride Chai; 
he could feel that tantalising erection rubbing rhythmically
 against the cotton over his inner thighs. 

"Getting my own back."
 
Chai gave him a shove. Fung toppled backwards, ending up on
 his back half under the table. The flour wand water paste 
was getting everywhere. Chai sat on his legs, then bent his
 head forward, down…

"Oh.." said Fung. 

Through his trousers, a warm mouth closed over the head of 
his own hard erection.  

"Ohhhh."

Without thinking, he thrust upwards. Chai's fingers worked 
busily at his waist, untying his belt, shoving the waistband
 of the trousers downwards. Then there was nothing at all 
between him and that warm, eager mouth. It drew on him, pulling
 him in, lapping and tasting, and 
exploring… Fung's head fell back. He could feel nothing but 
that heat, hear nothing but the pounding of his own blood in
 his ears. Yes and yes and yes… He lifted his head, and looked
 down. Chai leant over him, one hand curved around the base of
 Fung's hardness. The other hand had worked its way inside 
Chai's own cotton trousers, caressing  and rubbing in time 
to that hungry mouth. Fung raised himself on an elbow, breathing
 hard. He tangled the other hand into Chai's hair. Oh, yes… 
As the orgasm hit him, he sank his teeth into his lower, lip,
 drawing blood. Then he pulled Chai's head up, and hauled him
 forwards, along the length of his stomach and chest. He could
 taste himself on that soft, avid, mouth. They fell backwards
 together under that table, Chai on top. Fung let a hand slid
 down under Chai's trousers, close around Chai's fingers, 
increase the rhythm. Fast and firm and hard… Chai cried out
 against Fung's mouth, and came suddenly into both their 
hands. There was a moment of stillness. Fung listened to 
his heartbeat slowing. And then…

He tried to sit up. Ouch. Something was clinging to his 
skin. There was a sticky bond between himself and Chai… 
He started to giggle. Chai began to lift his head, stopped
 with an exclamation. 
"Da-go?"

"We have," Fung said, giggling, "a bit of a problem. You 
know that damn flour paste you spread everywhere? Well, 
it's drying, and I think we're stuck!"

-end-