Fwee! I have decided, just because I have the power to do so, that Lance's birthday shall, from this day forward, be my birthday. ::nods:: So, happy birthday, me! Here's your present to yourself, the day before FF.net will remove your pride and joy from existence! ::mourns Bittersweet and, to a lesser degree, Cruel To Be Kind, which should both eventually be reposted with lesser ratings:: I hope the presents I receive later today from my precious pets are better than this, though. And longer. :D Vive la Evo Whores! ::group hug:: Update: Eeeee! My birthday page!! Go look at it! :D:D ::passes out from happiness::
http://www.geocities.com/eumenidescry/psycho
Mmm, deliciously slashy L/P... and the first fic ever to be submitted with my new laptop/HTML'd goodness. ::pets italics, bold, underline and othersuch precious HTML-y items::
Disclaimer: Um. Yeah. Right. .; Heheh.
Ride
"Keep them closed!" Pietro
scolded, guiding Lance out the front door, down the steps and onto the curving
gravel driveway. "Closed! No peeking!"
"If I trip, you're gonna owe me so big," Lance warned half-heartedly. He knew Pietro would do just about anything he asked anyway... and turnabout was fair play. Lance thoroughly enjoyed every minute he spent "making things up to" Pietro. "Yet?" he asked in an exasperated tone. This was getting ridiculous. He was anxious to complete the wonderful day with an equally excellent night, then weekend, spent in bed, curled up next to the energetic gypsy-boy who was still holding his slender, white fingers over his eyes, torturing him with suspense. God, having your eighteenth birthday on a Friday frickin' rules! he thought giddily, squirming under the hands that blinded him.
"Okay... now," Pietro said softly, removing his slim fingers from their position overlapping the rock-tumbler's own hands over his eyes and moving them slowly down, linking around his waist from behind, warming him from the chill autumn breeze; blocking from the swirl of crisp golden leaves that barraged their bodies after a harsh gust of wind blustered through the evening air. He felt his boyfriend's body tense in disbelief and his lips flitted between a smirk of knowing and a smile of pure pleasure at making Lance genuinely happy.
"Oh my God... you didn't... you did!" Lance squealed (although the brunette would never admit to such a thing). "Pietro... oh my God..." His hand reached behind him, grabbing at Pietro's shirt to tug him around, face-to-face, and trying to do so without removing his eyes from his present.
"You already said that," Pietro reminded in a sing-song voice, easing away from Lance to come up and around to face him, blocking the path between Lance and it. "So... you like it?" Pietro's voice was tentative, almost as if he was afraid Lance might not like the gift. The last birthday gift... Pietro felt he'd saved the best for last.
"Like it? I love it! Thank you thankyouthankyou!" Lance exploded, grabbing the startled blond by the shoulders and giving him a quick, but passionate kiss, foretelling just how well Pietro would be thanked when they finally retired for bed that evening. Pietro could taste the lingering sweetness of the ice cream cake he'd had special-ordered for the party earlier. Too bad Fred had finished it off already.
By the time Pietro had recovered from the kiss, Lance's toned frame was already straddling the pricey new merchandise, running his fingers along the shiny, polished chrome, fiddling with the many controls on the high-tech dash. Seeing Lance was preoccupied, Pietro jetted back into the house, reemerging with a huge, professionally-wrapped box; glossy silver and tied with a massive red satin ribbon. Pietro had... plans for that ribbon later.
"Laaaance," the younger mutant cooed, prying the birthday boy's attention away from his gift. The shimmery wrapping paper did the trick well enough.
"More?" Lance asked incredulously, his arms raising to accept the new package. Careful fingers snatched the red ribbon off, leaving it hanging precariously off of one handlebar, swaying in the gentle breeze. The oversized box was then stripped of its expensive-looking wrappings, the paper unshredded and as perfectly preserved as possible. Lance was a sentimental fellow.
"Ohh," he breathed, pulling out first the tailored leather jacket and fingering the buttery-soft material before slipping it on, rolling his shoulders several times to get a feel for it. He smiled shyly at Pietro, whom he had just realized had been standing there, waiting.
"There's more," he promised Lance, fishing through the box to remove not one, but two matching helmets, both the same glossy black of the Harley's unblemished paint job. Pietro tossed one to the rock-tumbler. "Now, where have my keys gone? I know they were right around here somewhere..." Pietro trailed off, sneaking meaningful glances at his beau as his blue eyes scanned the landscape in psuedo-deep thought.
Naturally, Lance took the bait. After several minutes of groping and general messing around, Lance held up a set of keys, freshly liberated from Pietro's front pants pocket.
"Ha," he bit, jingling the metal instruments for emphasis. Pietro's lips curled into a wicked smirk, before he made the ultimate suggestion:
"C'mon, birthday boy," Pietro purred in Lance's ear, "Let's take a ride."
* * * * *
Aww… birthdayness. :D There may be more, if I ever stop being lazy. It's doubtful. Unless I get some really good feedback. ::eyes "send review" bar:: … .…