“Don’t ask,” he pleads, and I decide certain things are best left to the imagination.
“Oh, good, they’re done!” That long sniff of the cakes after he walks over? Definitely a distraction tactic. “We won’t frost them until they’ve cooled; otherwise, everything will melt into an enormous chocolate mess.”
So, we wait.
And we chat, and it’s comfortable.
Once the cakes have cooled enough, he tells me it’s time to level their tops—a step I would’ve never considered without him. A fish fillet knife is the only large, serrated utensil I own, and he makes me swear three different times that it’s clean before he agrees to use it. Still, he lets out a pitiful noise and ends up washing it again.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says as he scrubs the blade, “because you have a very trustworthy face. But consider the implications. Chocolate fish guts aren’t becoming a trend, and your reputation is at stake.”
“Hmm, agree to disagree. It adds more protein.” I duck and laugh as Az slings water at me, sprinkling my face in droplets.
“Ugh,” he says, suppressing a grin, “I always forget how gross country boys are sometimes. Wait… turn around.” When I only raise a brow, he narrows his eyes and twirls his finger, so I shrug and spin in a circle. “Oh, thank god, there’s no dip can imprint in your back pocket.”
A loud laugh bursts from my chest as I walk over, bracketing his body as I rest my hands on the counter. “Alright, city slicker. The man I picked up from the grocery store was shy and sweet. Where’d this bully come from?”
“Picked up? Is that what that was?” His eyes roll up into mine and I realize how close I’m standing to him, pinning his smaller body. “You can pick me up, big boy,” he teases, and my pulse gallops as he leans closer, lifting onto his toes. Lips grazing my jawline, he dodges my face and moves to my ear as the drumbeat of my heart thuds behind my ribs. “Just don’t forget I’ve got a blade in my hand.”
“You’re something else,” I mutter, and he presses a kiss on my cheek.
“Oh, honey, you havenoidea,” he whispers, huffing a quiet laugh as I finally get some of my senses back, giving him space.
A deep flush burns on his cheeks as he waves the knife in front of him. “See? Small but fierce. I knew you were scared of me.”
“Terrified,” I answer honestly, and he chuckles as he trims the cake tops. He shows me how to smooth the icing between the layers, although my thick hands are clumsier than his. By the time we get the three layers put together and frosted on the outside, there’s chocolate all over me.
Azrael, for his part, tries to keep a straight face, but when I turn to face him, he bursts out in a fit of pealing laughter. “Come here, you big hot mess,” he teases, swiping my cheek, and when he pulls back, his fingertip is coated in frosting. “How’d you manage that?”
“Making messes is one of my many skills.” Pure instinct guides me as I grab his wrist, no regard for consequences as I guide his hand to my mouth and suck the chocolate from his finger. Gray irises are eclipsed by his widening pupils as my tongue swirls over his skin.
“Beau,” he murmurs, and I can’t tell if it’s a warning or an encouragement. My throat works in a swallow as I pull off his finger, then smear frosting across his cheek.
“Oops, you got dirty, too,” I tease as I lean closer. I watch his expression for any signs of rejection, but he only breathes in a deep inhale as my lips land, kissing his cheek before my tongue darts out to lick away the chocolate.
If I thought my heart was pounding before, it is nothing compared to the rapid drumming lodged in my neck now. My finger lifts again, a quiet whine forming in his throat as I place a dab of frosting on his lips.
Slow, patient kisses trail along his smooth jaw until I hover over his mouth. Starved for a taste of him, I inch closer, but he stops me with a hand on my chest. “Beau,” he says, and it’s more forceful this time.
My sudden, sharp descent to reality forces me to take a long, unsteady step backward. “Fuck, I’m sorry… I’m being an idiot. This isn’t what you want.” My nervous hand swipes over my chin before I remember I’m covered in frosting, and I groan as my head sags.
Tentative steps approach, and Az places two fingers under my chin, tilting my face up. “Trust me when I say itiswhat I want… so, so much. But you don’t know me, Beau. We just met, and there are things about me you need to understand. I’m not a hookup kind of guy.”
“I’m not either,” I argue, my voice melting into a hum as he kisses my jaw and chin, licking the frosting from my beard.
“Are you even out?” The words are pillow-soft, barely above a whisper. “It’s okay if you aren’t, and I’d never force that on you, but I’ve seen a lot of broken hearts in my life. Men that want to have their fun and test the waters without leaving their comfort zone. As much as I want you,myheart is the one at stake here.”
“I would never hurt you,” I insist, and his smile is a weak, fluttering thing.
That ache in my chest riots as he says, “I should go, sweetheart, before I do something reckless and end up bent over this counter like we’re both imagining right now.” I shift, trying to hide the way my cock bucks in my jeans, but his eyes drop, tracking the movement. “Yeah, I better go.”
“Let me take you out,” I blurt, and he pauses, assessing me in that thoughtful way of his. “We’ll go out and get to know each other. From there, we can see where it goes.”
“You want to go on a date with me? A public date, clearly a romantic one and not just two guys spending time together?”
“Yes,” I insist, nodding to emphasize my point.
He hesitates, a flicker of doubt in his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eases as he relents. A giant smile tears across my face as he tries to hide his. “Fine. Give me your phone number and we’ll work it out.”
