Chris felt his head crack, again, against Lance’s headboard and decided he’d had quite enough. “Stop that shit, Bass. I’m not fucking around this time!” Lance looked up with innocent eyes and a wide smile. “You don’t like?” he laughed, propping his head into the palm of his hand. Chris debated that. His head debated it as well. “Maybe we could do it on the floor?” he suggested. But the wicked gleam in Lance’s eye told him to suck it up -- or forget it. So he pressed his head back down to the pillow, and tried to maneuver his body, just a bit. But he was tied pretty tight, and his wrists screamed with each move he made. “Are you done whining?” Lance questioned. “Because if you are ..” “Shut it!” Chris cried. “I’m not whining, and even if I was ... you’re sadistic.” “Justin never complained,” Lance countered, flopping back to the chore at hand. “Justin’s curls are set to tight. Besides, he’s too timid to complain.” “If you say so,” Lance mused. “Personally, I wouldn't use timid to describe him, but he’s your best friend.” Chris bit his lip as Lance worked him once more, shuddering in vain. Trying to control his nerve endings. His pride was riding on his willpower and he was intent on winning. Still. he pondered Lance’s words and pulled his head from the pillow once more. “What word would you use then?” he asked, not at all sure he wanted to hear it. Lance rolled his eyes and sat up. “Jesus Christ! You wanna sit her and yammer about Justin or continue?” But Chris was curious, more than he supposed he should be, and pinned Lance for an answer with dark eyes. “Okay, okay,” Lance said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’d say Justin is ... um .. extremely comfortable about his sexuality. There. How’s that?” Chris shook his head. “That’s shit, quite frankly,” he pointed out. “And you should know better than to pull it with me.” Lance laughed and ducked his head -- snagged. “Justin’s sexy as fuck, Chris, okay? He’s ripped and he moans really softly. He rolls his head from side to side and these little beads of sweat pop out over his upper lip, and he’s forever sticking his tongue out to lick at them.” It wasn’t quite what Chris had wanted to hear, and his dick twitched accordingly. “Really?” he asked, feigning disinterest. “I guess it’s like when he plays basketball and sweats eh?” “Oh no,” Lance said, shaking his head vehemently. “It’s not like that at all.” His voice dropped to a low rumble and he inched closer to Chris’ ear. “It’s slick, but not gross. It’s sensual. It’s really fucking erotic to watch that boy come ya know.” Chris sure didn’t know, and he was uncomfortable enough as it was with Lance licking at his ear. He hated being restrained because he couldn’t shove Lance away and find a small corner to hide with his hard on. “Well,” Lance smiled, glancing down between Chris’ legs. “You asked.” “Sorry I fucking did, too,” he grimaced. “Can I get back to this now?” Lance asked, standing up. “Because if not, it’s all going to be ruined.” “Fine.” Chris closed his eyes and tried to detach. He thought of clothing designs and the last movie he’d seen. He imagined the sun setting from his house and the way sand felt under his toes. He swallowed thickly as Lance moved back between his legs and tried not to think of that. But he was hard, and Lance was smirking, and he knew he’d lost. “I hate you,” he hissed, refusing to meet Lance’s expression. “Really and truly hate you.” “You love me,” Lance countered, slathering the concoction over Chris’ dick. “You fucking adore the ground I walk on. Just like the others. Only you refuse to admit it.” “Fuck you.” Chris squirmed as the plaster curled around him, and his nipples sprang to life under the chill. “It’s cold, dammit.” “Just lie still. It needs to harden then we’ll take it off.” First Vaseline now this. He hated Lance for having such soft hands, and such a deep voice. He hated him for making him think about how hot Justin must look in the throes of sexual play. He hated him for even making the bet in the first place. And mostly, he hated him for being right. “Are we done?” he growled through gritted teeth. He needed to get off -- like now. “Almost. Almost.” No where did Lance warn that making a mold of his penis was so erotic. And he’d been the ass that said no way would he get hard enough for him to succeed in creating it. Lance bounced on that, and challenged him. In front of the guys. So he’d accepted. To prove a point. He was stronger than all of them. Because he’d seen Lance’s three other molds. Only he wasn’t so strong when Lance tied him up, ‘better mold if you’re still’, he’d said. Or when he started to apply Vaseline, because who the fuck wasn’t gonna get hard from that. And now he was stuck, literally, with his erection in some clammy goo while Lance licked his lips in victory. “Now?” Chris grumbled. Lance laughed with his eyes, and stood up, stripping slowly. “Almost,” he teased, discarding his shirt, then his jeans. Chris gaped -- and stopped breathing -- and wondered just what Lance thought he was doing. A moment later, Lance was perched on his chest, sliding the heavy plaster off him at an agonizingly slow pace. It was tight, and  caused friction Chris didn’t dare think about as he got a full on view of Lance’s ass. “Oh Jesus,” he whimpered as the mold was taken off. Lance scrambled away, and put it down gently. Then he grabbed a towel and warm water, and wiped Chris clean. “No so bad right?” Chris thought he shook his head no. Hell, he thought a lot of things as his fingers tingled and his toes curled. Dirty things. It was then that Lance made his move, like a panther in the light of day. “I’m going to fuck you now.” And Chris laughed nervously because it was a sated statement, not a plea. There was no desperation to Lance’s voice as so often accompanied sexual situations. So he nodded, with a dry mouth, as Lance grabbed the Vaseline once more. And slicked his fingers -- and pressed them in with seemingly detached interest. It robbed Chris of breath and his eyes snapped shut, still in shock. Unable to focus on what was going on, let alone how this had happened. But Lance was sliding inside of him soon after, and he winced in discomfort. “I’ll go slow,” Lance said, dragging Chris’ legs over his shoulder. “I always go slow the first time.” The first time echoed ridiculously loud in Chris’ ears as his face contorted  -- and the deeper Lance pressed, the more he shook. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled as Lance took his first real thrust, and his head banged against the headboard once more. “Why not?” Lance queried, bending to nip at his lips. “I like you. You’re sexy.” “So you’re fucking me?” Chris gasped as his head smacked against the wood again. “Why not? Better we should retreat to our separate places and jerk off?” Lance grinned and shrugged. “It’s more fun this way.” As the pain in Chris’ head grew, he had to admit, it was better. And Lance was good, pacing himself with long, steady thrusts and slow, torturous strides. He pressed into recesses and places never before entered, and Chris’ felt dizzy from the sensation. “I think your cock is going to be the prettiest one,” Lance murmured as he pumped away, and Chris stared up into sinful green eyes that glittered with amusement. “Is that so?” Chris grunted pulling at the ties that bound him. Longing to wrap his fingers around his erection and tug at it frantically until he came. Because he was in conflict, and aching, and needed to be touched. But Lance was playing sadist to the hilt, so Chris mashed his teeth together and conjured up Justin -- how he moaned softly, and lolled his head from side to side. And he pictured Lance there with him, slipping in and out of him. And he wiggled his hips a little as he whined out a long sigh. Then he heard Lance change, grow quiet. He examined how Lance chewed his lip, squeezed his eyes shut and quickened his pace. Chris watched with slanted eyes as Lance’s brows furrowed and his cheek twitched. He saw the rosy flush smear across Lance’s cheeks, and fuck if it wasn’t the single most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed. Suddenly, he wanted to be free to touch Lance, to run his fingers over the beautiful face suspended above him, and wind his hands into the blonde hair that was now damp, and matted to his head. He ached to run his fingertips over Lance’s dark nipples and lap his tongue over them to tease as he had been teased. He enjoyed watching Lance begin to lose control, and he smirked as Lance’s lips quivered in concentration. He fucking adored the perspiration that began to coat Lance’s smooth chest and he bob of Lance’s Adam’s apple as he whispered in silent prayer. Chris thrust his hips up to catch some friction from Lance’s stomach, and rubbed his cock along the sweaty flesh. He was so close, a few more strokes and he could touch the tip of his orgasm sweetly. “You are fucking beautiful,” he garbled as his blood ran hot and his mind swam. “So ... damn ... pretty, Lance.” Lance threw his head back and opened his eyes as he came, and Chris felt his body rock at the intensity of the stare. It was as if Lance was looking straight through him. His orgasm slammed across him as he caught fire from those sea glass eyes, and he throbbed as Lance smiled slyly, collapsing on top of him. Then it was over, as quickly as it had begun, and Lance kissed Chris’ nose before standing on shaky legs. “Yeah,” he grinned, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Your cock? Yeah. Definitely  gonna be the prize of my penis collection. Oh hell yeah.” Chris struggled to catch his breath as he watched Lance tug on his boxers, and hum softly, moving about the bedroom to pour and sculpt his mold. And Chris wasn’t exactly sure what the hell had gone on, but he was somehow satisfied that Lance liked his the best. Two days later Lance unveiled the creation, and Chris blushed as he noticed that while his wasn’t the biggest or the thickest, Lance had taken time to glaze it and cover it with a box of glass. He grinned as Lance wrapped his arms around him, and nuzzled his neck, and placed his cock creation on a little pedestal above JC’s, Joey’s and Justin’s. “Yeah,” Lance sighed, running his hands under Chris’s tee shirt. “Yours is definitely the best.” It was a statement Chris could live with, knot on his head and all. [back]