Cherry Pop

“Sweetheart?” Ville poked his head into the living room. Bam somehow managed to tear himself away from the movie he was watching.

Resident Evil. Okay, maybe he’d seen it more than once, but goddamn, you just couldn’t get any better than people eating other people. Secretly, Bam thought cannibalism an interesting idea. Not that he’d ever indulge in it. Anymore you didn’t know what other people were putting into their bodies.

You are what you eat.

Maybe he needed to get out more.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think you could come and make me a drink?” Ville let his eyes get wide and soft looking, sweet and innocent. Dammit, how was he so good at that? Bam knew for sure he wasn’t innocent at all.

“Can’t you make it yourself?” he groaned.

“I guess,” the Finn gave a long suffering sigh. He turned back into the kitchen and silently began to count in his head. By time he’d gotten to three, Bam was in the kitchen.

The American grumbled under his breath as he began to collect the things to mix Ville a drink. He gave the singer a dirty look as the older man beamed angelically. How did he always manage to get his way?

Ville pulled himself up onto the counter to watch his lover. He merrily swung his legs as he surveyed the scene. He had slipped a peppermint into his mouth and rolled the round candy on his tongue as he watched.

“What the fuck do you want?” the skater snapped, not looking at his lover. The Finnish man tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling pretending to be deep in thought.

In reality, he hadn’t wanted a drink at all. He had only wanted to pull Bam away from that stupid movie. He couldn’t stand to sit through it a third time. And so he had concocted the need for a drink.

Regardless of the fact that he was fully capable of getting something himself. He did like Bam to do it for him sometimes, though. He liked to feel like he was being taken care of.

“Something cherry,” he decided, smirking at his boyfriend. Bam smirked, a wicked look gleaming in his eye.

“Well, sweetie, I can’t make a cherry pop…” he walked to his lover, stood between the spread knees. He rested his hands on the counter, on either side of Ville’s ass.
“But you know what?” his voice was breathy, a bedroom voice.

“What?” Ville gulped and leaned forward. Their lips were almost touching. This was going to end so wonderfully! He was giddy just thinking about it.

“I can make a banana cream.” The singer tried to stifle a whimper, but it just didn’t work. Bam’s lips ghosted down his neck, while one hand reached up to run across his chest, teasing his nipples into hard peaks under his shirt.

Oh yes, this would indeed end very well.

Ville’s arms snaked around Bam’s shoulders, and his slender legs locked around his waist. He was sure he was about to be lifted up, about to be carried to bed, and the whole movie and drink would be forgotten.

But he was getting untangled for him lover. He whined pitifully and reached for him. Bam playfully caught his hands put them down on the counter.

“As soon as the movie is over.”