Yes, Chef

by T. Neilson

Luke stepped back and gave Simon a long, assessing look.

  “But have you?” he asked.

  Simon found himself out of things to say. He fumbled some half-words and finally gave up.

  “No,” he admitted. “No, I haven’t.”

  Luke made a small sound and drew Simon in a little closer. “I’m flattered,” he murmured.

  “And I’m kind of terrified,” Simon replied.

  “I promise no molecular gastronomy. Just meat and potatoes.”

  Simon burst out laughing again. “You’re disgusting.”

  Luke kissed the tender place between Simon’s shoulder and his neck. “Don’t I know it.”

  And then Simon found himself turning in the circle of Luke’s arms to reach for the hem of his shirt and push it up. At long last he could finally stare at the broad expanse of Luke’s torso, the bronze skin darkened by a week of sun, the coarse dark hair of his armpits and his chest, and the trail that ran down below the belt that held his jeans in place.

  Luke stepped back just a little, enough to give Simon space so he could tug the old T-shirt up over his head. His hair, which had been flattened by the sous cap, stood up in tufts at the back.

  “Let me,” Simon murmured as he smoothed it back down. Then he looked at Luke, at the body he’d been coveting for days, the body he’d been trying not to stare at but always trying to see.

  Goose bumps covered Luke’s arms and chest, tightening copper skin across hard abs and turning his nipples dark and rosy red. Simon hardly appreciated the sight. He was too taken by the bulge in Luke’s broken-in jeans and startled by how badly he wanted to undo Luke’s belt and take Luke’s meat into his hands… or maybe his mouth. Christ. The thought trickled in through the haze in his brain. How did I not know this about myself before?

  Simon started to undo his own shirt, which buttoned right up to the top, but his shaking fingers made him fumble around like a drunk. Luke batted his hands away and stepped in close, slid his thigh between Simon’s legs, and pressed his hip against Simon’s growing erection. Simon made a noise—a little ungh of pleasure—as Luke undid his shirt.

  Simon leaned in and availed himself of Luke’s bare skin. He ghosted his fingertips over the ridges of Luke’s stomach and chest, and Luke made a small, pleased noise and shivered once under his hands.

  Is this it? It’s easy.

  It was. All Simon had to do was exactly what he wanted to—trace the lines and curves of Luke’s muscles, taste the salt on his skin, inhale the heady musk of his scent, just as he had when they lay together on the blanket in the field. He closed his eyes to focus on the taste and smell of him, and Luke hauled him in closer. He moved his hands down to Simon’s belt and rested there. Simon opened his eyes and met Luke’s look.

  “A part of me wants to push you up against that wall and get you off,” Luke murmured, “but the rest of me wants to see you naked.”

  Simon pretended to consider that, as though Luke were a new cook putting in for vacation.

  “As long as it’s reciprocal,” he answered, and Luke grinned at him. Luke’s fingers were sure on his belt and fly, and Simon soon found himself with his pants undone and pushed down and Luke’s hand pressed against Simon’s erection and rubbing. Simon undid Luke’s jeans and revealed the dark trail of hair that vanished under the waistband of his underwear. He followed it down with his fingers and sought out the thick heat down there. Luke leaned back to allow him access.

  Simon closed his hands around the throbbing, hardening cock and gripped. Luke squeezed his eyes shut as though something ached, and his moan was like nothing Simon had ever heard before—hungry and whining.

  Luke finished pushing down Simon’s underwear, reached in to palm his shaft, and then slid his hands down to cup Simon’s balls—and holy shit, nothing had ever been like that. Simon made a desperate animal noise, and all of him wanted more. Luke met his eyes and nodded just a little in place of asking, “Is it okay?”

  Simon nodded back. “Yeah,” he whispered.

  Luke leaned in a little more, crowding Simon. He presented a bare, bronze shoulder that Simon wanted to taste. He opened his mouth and sucked at the skin, and Luke pressed the pad of his finger against Simon’s asshole.

  Memory startled him. It was just like the alley, just like what he’d seen. Only this time he was in Luke’s role.

  “How much experience do you have?” Luke asked in Simon’s ear. “Have you played with yourself? Do you know what you like?”

  Simon found himself resting his head on Luke’s shoulder, breathing hard in his ear. “I don’t know. No. I’m….” He wanted Luke like he had only ever wanted sleep or food or water before. He wanted Luke however Luke wanted him. “Anything. You can do anything you want.”

  “Again, I’m flattered,” Luke murmured as he drew small circles on the sensitive skin. “I want to fill you up. God, I want to fuck you. But one thing at a time.” Luke nuzzled the back of Simon’s neck, and the electric sensation from Luke’s finger seemed to zing right up to Luke’s mouth and back again. Simon groaned, chasing the sensation. He stretched up against Luke’s mouth and pressed back against his fingertip.

  “A little lube would go a long way,” Luke murmured.

  Simon groaned. He pressed his head into the crook of Luke’s neck.

  “I don’t have a damn thing,” he whispered. He’d been living like a monk for years, the last things he had at hand were those supplies. “And I’m not placing an order for Crisco with room service.”

  Luke burst out laughing and muffled it in Simon’s neck. “And you said I was disgusting.”

  Luke straightened up and took a look around the little room. Simon straightened up too, reluctant to part but maintaining enough dignity not to whine when Luke withdrew the hand from his pants.

  “Where’s your shower?” Luke asked, and Simon cottoned on.

  “Soap,” he said.

  “Any port in a storm,” Luke answered.

  Simon took Luke’s hands and led him to the bathroom. There, even though it was a small and unlovely space, at least it wasn’t monastic. He had always had a bit of a penchant for things that smelled good, and Luke was no exception, which meant he had bottles of body wash and hand cream and….

  “That’ll do,” Luke murmured as he spied the collection of bottles that cluttered the small sink and the edge of the tub.

  Simon turned on the water and flicked the taps to the shower setting. When he turned back, Luke had stripped out of his jeans and underwear and, oh God, stood naked in Simon’s bathroom, the whole perfect length of him exposed. His thick thighs were covered by black hair and a heavy red cock that stood proud. Simon’s balls ached at the sight of it. He suddenly wanted it like he’d never wanted anything before. He wanted to get on his knees and take it into his mouth, to taste it, to feel the heavy weight of it.

  Luke grinned. “Simon,” he chided. “How did you not know you were into men?”

  “I’m a busy guy,” Simon answered weakly as he shucked off his own pants. He kicked them into an untidy heap by the door.

  Luke snorted. “That’s too busy.”

  “No kidding,” Simon answered.

  Luke made a small, appreciative noise as Simon tugged off his underwear and kicked it over to where his pants lay. Then Simon hesitated before turning back to the shower, aware his body was suddenly on show. His cock was already leaking, and his balls were so tight they hurt. He had a moment of panic. He had no idea what gay etiquette would say about that kind of obvious, pathetic, desperate desire.

  “Mmmm,” Luke said, the sound almost lost under the hiss of the shower. Simon shivered despite the heat in the little room. “Better get into the shower, because I’m about to make you filthy.”

  Simon stepped into the rushing shower, and Luke scrambled in after him and laughed as he took the spray on the side of his head. “Tight quarters,” Simon apologized.

  “I think we’ll manage,” Luke murmured. He pressed Simon back against the icy tiles, a
nd Simon yelped. Luke grinned at him like a shark and then kissed Simon, his mouth hard and insistent. Simon’s world telescoped around him until there was nothing but Luke, the cold tiles, and the hissing spray of the showerhead. Luke framed Simon’s face, and his hands were smooth and strong, his fingers firm on the base of his neck, his thumb on Simon’s cheekbones.

  “God, Simon, I wanted you.” He kissed Simon. “How could you not have known? How could you make me wait so long? I always loved you. The minute I laid eyes on you, I wanted you.” Simon surged up against him with hands that had until that moment been useless at his side. He grabbed at Luke’s hips and pulled Luke hard against him. Then he moved so his cock slid against Luke’s belly.

  “You were the one thing I could never have.” Luke’s mouth plunged to Simon’s jaw, to his neck, where he nuzzled and lapped and left a path of buzzing heat wherever his lips had been. The water from the shower beat down on them, and Simon already felt dizzy and breathless in the heat and under Luke’s hands when Luke grabbed a bottle of body wash from the edge of the tub and squeezed a generous and jizz-colored blob onto his hands. Then he slid his slicked hands down over Simon’s body, dragging sparks behind him until he closed his hands over Simon’s cock and began, firmly and methodically, to jerk him. Simon groaned.

  “Michelin stars, perfect reviews. Sure. I could have all that. But fuck that. Who needs that?”

  Simon writhed and fucked against him. Luke’s mouth opened, and his kisses were hard and sloppy. Simon gasped and tried to catch each one.

  “The alley… do you remember?” Luke asked suddenly.

  Simon nodded. “Yeah,” he answered, panting. “I remember it.” It was etched on the back of his eyelids. He had jerked himself to the memory for a year, at least. He knew every groan and sigh as though he’d watched it a dozen times.

  “Do you want that?”

  Simon’s head felt light, as though he might black out. He couldn’t do what Andre had done. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

  Luke seemed to understand. “Do you want me to blow you? I want to taste you.”

  Simon couldn’t find the air to answer with words, so he nodded. Luke dropped to his knees, there in the spray from the shower, and pressed his lips to the side of Simon’s shaft. Simon was aware, distantly, of making a noise. When Luke licked the length of his shaft, up one side, and down the other, Simon leaned back against the cool tiles and braced himself by gripping the shower curtain rod like a handhold. Thank God for that. At least if my legs give out, I won’t crush Luke to death.

  Luke opened his dark eyes again, looked up at Simon through the tangle of his wet hair, and swallowed Simon down.

  Simon felt the full effect of that sight hit him in his chest—Luke’s bare back and shoulders, his mouth stretched wide around Simon’s hard red shaft, his eyes heavy-lidded, eyebrows bunched just a little—maybe in bliss, maybe asking a question.

  “Oh God.” Simon said it far louder than he meant to. Luke closed his eyes and made a soft sound, almost a purr that reverberated through Simon’s erection and up into him, and the pleasure was so intense that he never wanted it to stop. He found himself sliding his fingers into Luke’s damp hair, gripping it, feeling every movement of his mouth and tongue. Hell, it was so good. It was perfect, everything he wanted. He closed his eyes and rode the rhythm Luke laid out for him and thrust into the hot slickness of his mouth. Luke was swallowing him, and Simon felt himself surge up against him, every part of him tight and coiled.

  “Wait,” he whispered in warning. “Wait, wait, wait—” And Luke surged up to meet him, mouth open, throat working, pressure and wet and hot silken pleasure, and then Simon was coming with an animal growl, arching back to better thrust forward until Luke had milked the last of him and he stood shuddering and staring at Luke, half-naked and on his knees, his mouth red and smiling, and his red cock dripping between his thighs.

  Simon remembered the alley. Maybe they had done it backward, but that would be fine. He sank down to his knees too and dragged Luke in for a kiss. He could taste himself, hot musk in his mouth. He pushed Luke back so he dropped onto his ass with the shower overshooting them. Simon took Luke’s cock in his hands. The erection was red and thick and so hard the veins stood out in stark relief. He closed his hand over Luke’s erection and felt the thickness, the softness, the pulse. He wondered if he should suck it, press it to his lips, swallow it down the way Luke had. He’d never done that before, never wanted to before.

  “I’m new at this,” he told Luke, who was looking at him with hunger in his heavy-lidded eyes. “You have to tell me what to do,” Simon whispered. Luke’s brows came together as though struggling with pain or arousal—maybe both.

  “Taste it,” Luke murmured at last. “See if you like it.”

  “Yes, Chef.” Simon said it without thinking and didn’t realize until he had lowered his mouth. The wine-colored head brushed his lips. It was smooth and hot and salty. “It’s good,” he murmured.

  Luke laughed breathlessly. “Good.” He was breathing hard. “Do you want to suck it?”

  “Yes, Chef,” Simon murmured, that time with intent.

  Luke shifted and leaned back against the side of the tub so Simon would have space to take the whole thing into his mouth. He leaned in closer and parted his lips around the thick, hot shaft as he locked his eyes on Luke.

  Under him, Luke groaned. He closed his eyes, covered them with his hands, and writhed. Simon swallowed him down and chased the sweet noises he made as he shivered. He wondered about the other thing Andre had done, sliding a finger—hell, maybe more than a finger—into Luke. There was still soap all over him and sticky come on Simon’s thighs and in patches on the bottom of the tub. He scooped up a little and lubed his fingers. Then he slid one hand down, first to cradle Luke’s balls and then lower, to touch the tight ring of muscle there. It was easy. His finger was slippery with come, and the tip slid right in. Luke’s hips jerked, and his cock filled Simon’s mouth.

  “Oh, shit,” Luke whispered.

  Simon withdrew a little. He didn’t want to overdo it since he had no idea what felt good and what didn’t. He thumbed Luke’s hole and slicked it as he sucked the heavy length in his mouth.

  “Oh, fuck, Simon.”

  Luke made a low, animal noise. The cock in Simon’s mouth throbbed, and Luke’s hips surged. Simon knew he was going to come. He had an instant to wonder if he was ready for it, and he opened his mouth to swallow as much of Luke as he could take. Luke arched under him and then crunched, his hands balled into fists still gripping his own hair. Hot come splashed into Simon’s mouth, filling it with thick brine, overwhelming him. He pulled back, unable to suckle the way Luke had done, and he marveled at Luke’s etched body, his wine-red cock, and the thick white strands of come that dripped from the glistening head. At last Luke looked at him again. He lay as though stunned and stared at Simon with his mouth open, his black hair spread around him like a halo, and his face misted by the spray of the shower. He smiled drowsily, faintly, and rubbed some water from his eyes. “You take direction very well,” he said at last. “Oh my God. Why do you take direction so well?”

  Simon grinned, absurdly proud. “I spent a lot of time in culinary school,” he answered. “And my best friend there was a bit of an asshole.”

  Luke cracked up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THEY showered together afterward and washed each other down. Simon took time and pleasure exploring the hidden angles and curve of Luke’s gorgeous body, and Luke took every opportunity to play grab-ass when Simon wasn’t expecting it.

  By the time Simon had toweled off, he felt warm and muzzy, as though the champagne of earlier in the night were catching up with him again.

  “Tired,” Luke murmured.

  “Exhausted,” Simon agreed.

  He let Luke lead him back into the main room, to the queen-size bed and the mussed sheets. Lying down made all his muscles ache in bliss. A moment later he heard the rattle o
f a belt buckle and opened one eye. Luke was wandering the breadth of the room, picking up discarded clothes.

  “What are you doing?” Simon whispered.

  Luke glanced at him.

  “Oh, come on.” Simon gestured to him. “Stay.”

  Luke licked his lips and remembered with a sick twist in his stomach that Luke had a flight in the morning.

  “Please stay.”

  Luke sighed, and a little smile crept over his features. “My flight is at seven.”

  “Set an alarm. I’ll drive you.”

  Luke nodded and dropped his clothes back on the floor, and Simon closed his eyes again. He felt Luke settle beside him, smelled the sandalwood musk of his skin, and burrowed close. He wanted to say “Please stay” again. He meant to. But exhaustion won, and sleep stole the words from him.

  IT was nine o’clock when Simon woke up.

  He didn’t wake up because an alarm went off or because he knew he had something to do. He woke because he was rested for maybe the first time in a decade. He rolled over and smiled. There, lying under the sheets, still naked, lay Luke.

  Simon smiled at the sight of him, at the long expanse of bronze skin against the backdrop of white hotel sheets, at the curving slope of his muscled back and the swell of his ass, at the rumpled mass of curling black hair and the way Luke hid his face in the crook of his arm as he slept. And then Simon realized that it was 9:00 a.m. Holy shit, Luke had a flight to catch two hours ago.

  “Shit, Luke,” Simon whispered, lurching upright. He caught Luke’s shoulder and shook him a little. “Your flight.”

  “Hmm?” Luke raised his head. Then he smiled a lazy smile and put his head back down on the pillow of his arm. He nodded at Simon.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I guess it left. Missed it. Too bad.” He grinned.

  Simon stared at him. He realized his mouth was hanging open and couldn’t bring himself to close it.

  “You’re okay with this.”

  Luke gazed at him patiently, as though he were waiting for a trainee sommelier to find the words to describe the wine he’d just tasted. “Uh-huh,” he said at last.