A/N: This chapter is extremely long at 8.3k words because while everyone is out having a fun halloween night, I'm here writing STEAMY ASS SCENES for your halloween enjoyment. I know, I know, usually I have a halloween special written for you guys but I have no idea why or how it turned out to be white stuff for some reason. What a treat. 

Enjoy!

==================

[Leroy]

I was reaching behind me as soon as I got off the call with my personal snowstorm, grabbing a clean station shirt and putting that on before gathering everything else. Chicken woke up as I did. A couple of backup crew members were standing around to prevent residents from going anywhere near the building but I was thinking about dashing upstairs for a couple of seconds to retrieve something.

The idea directed my gaze to the line of officers sealing off the area and I was counting the number of residents waiting for the green when someone else obscured my view.

"Who was that?" Erlynn did not look or sound very happy; which wasn't really news these days. Her mood had dropped to a general low ever since she met Vanilla back in my apartment a week or two ago and hadn't exactly improved. "Please don't tell me you're crashing at his place. What, did he make you agree to that or something?"

"No one's making me do anything, Erlynn." I stuffed my ash-crusted gear into a duffel bag and zipped it up. "I'm running up to grab a couple of things once the officer gives the green. You should too. Don't think there's..." I stopped short because her eyes had reduced to slits, fixed on me without bothering to hide all the aggression. "Okay. What did I miss?"

"Miss?" She repeated like I'd stepped on a mine. Wasn't a far fetch at the rate we were going. "Leroy, you weren't even listening to me the whole entire time I was concerned and worried for you. Do you have any idea how—forget it. So much for being a good friend." She scoffed.

I had to apologize for being distracted just because since apparently that's how things work now and try to account for the fact that I had stuff to settle since, practically speaking, my apartment has a hole in it.

"And that's exactly what I was trying to help you with, Roy." There was no reasoning with her at this point 'cuz I could tell she wasn't in the mood to talk and my social battery was near zero after fighting that fire and getting this close to losing my boy.

Over her shoulder, the officer in charge of the scene was giving permission to residents on the lower floors to re-enter their apartments, which meant that chief had cleared building after multiple checks. I saw one of the backup engineers wave me over and I nodded back, telling Erlynn I'd drop her a text before getting back to work.

"You the owner of that other unit on the fifth floor, mate?" He handed me a pass. "Station nine's cleared out. Three's making a move to the next EMS too, so. You alright with getting someone from your station to look out for you up there?"

I nodded, making out crazy-ass eye bags under his eyes even in the dark. "Thanks for your help. Forty-eight?"

"Seventy-two," he corrected with a laugh, raising a hand and starting backwards from where he came. "Covering for someone. Have a good one mate."

It drains; sometimes. No matter how much I liked being the guy that saved lives and put fires out, I never really thought of it as the best thing in the world or something that was suited for everyone who wanted to be a firefighter. Strangely enough, one could say the same for chefs in the kitchen. Just without the life-saving part.

"Zales." I called out to her. She left the others patching up minor wounds and other injuries at the back of an EMS truck, slipping on some protective gear whilst crossing the road. I sent Chicken over to Jaeger in the meantime, since all that ash and debris in my apartment wasn't going to do him any good.

"Probie gave your unit the clear a minute ago but just to make sure," she handed me a helmet and gloves. "You... got a lot in there?"

"Camera stuff. And one laptop." We headed up to the fifth floor just in time to see Vance coming out of my apartment in full protective gear.

"Oh—sir. Ma'am." He was the most strait-laced of probational firefighters I'd ever seen and it was taking him a while to shake the formalities when it came to senior crew members. "The unit's cleared but I'm not sure if the owner should enter without some PPE on."

Zales waved this aside with a laugh. "You're right, but we've got the owner right here," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder and Vance had to stare at me for a second to register what she meant.

"Wait. Are you serious? Holy crap that must suck. Sorry sir." "Nah Probie don't feel bad for this guy. Heard he even has options for a place to crash." "Oh." "Where the fuck did you get that?" Zales shrugged. "We made our guesses over at the EMS truck. Jaeger's betting on that girl downstairs. Park's money is on the phone call. I'm with neither. I think you're sleeping at station twelve for the next two weeks." "Bet's over. Park won." "What? Fucking Leroy Cox is turning down twenty-four-seven quality time in the firehouse for two weeks straight?" "I'd choose the firehouse, sir." "Yeah of course you would, Probie. You're on your first month." "Wait, so. You're dating someone? Or are they just, y'know." "Sir, is it the guy who came over with bagels the other time? The bagels were bloody awesome by the way." "Yeah it's him." "Holy motherfucking god you're finally not work-obsessed. Congrats, man." "Does that mean we'll be getting more bagels soon, sir?"

All this while they escorted me around the apartment with their flashlights out; one in front, one at the back. I nodded upstairs the moment we entered so it was there first, grabbing the Bluetooth speaker off a set of drawers and then rummaging through now dusty covers for the blue jacket. Once those were secured, we headed back downstairs.

"Wait, that's it?" Zales raised a brow. "I thought you said camera-stuff and a laptop."

"... right." I backtracked to the living room and checked the display case. They looked okay. Although with the humidity and temperature for the past couple of hours, I couldn't say for sure.

"I got your laptop, sir." Vance said from the dining and because that was practically next to the kitchen where the explosion was, I didn't have too high hopes for it.

"Thanks," I received the laptop, sandwiching it under my arm and giving Zales the green to radio chief. His voice came through the receiver after she did, and I heard him ask if I needed a ride back to the firehouse. Zales answered on my behalf.

"It's an emergency, chief. We're losing Cox to bagel boy." "Bagel boy?" "Wait, you mean it's not that girl across the road?" "Park won." "See? I told ya." "Fucking hell Cox." "Y'know, I like bagel boy. The bagels were pretty damn good." "Chief, you're losing the workaholic and that's all you gotta say?" "I know right." "Don't listen to 'em Cox. I'm happy for you." Some laughing over the radio.

It was this that really sealed the deal for me as a firefighter. Not the life-saving part; not the adrenaline rush, although yeah I admit that one comes close; it was the family. Felt like I belonged somewhere. Which was nice.

"See you at six." Vance and Zales waved, getting back to packing up and leaving the scene to police officers while I got out my phone to give my law-breaking chauffeur a call. Someone stopped me in my tracks. It was Erlynn.

I want to say that she's not usually like this. Like, that I understand the whole aggression thing was part of her losing a place to stay for two whole weeks but I knew her best friend was twenty minutes away down Camberwell and the reparation costs for her apartment was little to none since gas and electricity would all be on the building owner's tab (not to mention the possible lawsuit), so. At least her flat didn't have a hole in the wall or filled with debris and dust or a soaked carpet.

Vance was right. It sucks. But these things happen and as a firefighter, I'd seen them happen for years. Today was... yeah. Today wasn't a good day. I was tired.

"—and look, if you're signing up for another round of pain and hurt with that guy, sure. Do what you want. I just don't think you should be speeding into this right after—"

"Can we do this another time?" I could hear the battery in my voice and it did not exist. I sounded close to dead. "Leave me a text. I'll read it. I promise."

She stopped to stare, and then with her arms crossed, scoffed. "Okay. Yeah. Fine." Then turned her back to me and started in the direction of the apartment building.

Along the way, I'd come to learn something about Erlynn and that was if she said 'fine', it meant that I'd made the biggest mistake of my life or something and that in her books, I was dead for at least a week. Apparently, that was how Jaeger's ex worked too. They were perfectly okay with giving us a cold shoulder for seven days straight unless we made the first move to apologize.

Way back, I wouldn't have bothered. But Erlynn had cared. A lot. In the beginning. And put up with a lot of my shit.

I spent my remaining one percent of energy calling Chicken over and getting my ass down to the end of the street where officers had initially cordoned off. Less than a second was all I needed to recognize his fancy car parked across the road. His back was straight up and barely touching the seat, clearly tensed and looking out for me the entire time.

"Breaking the law and driving straight into the lion's den with police officers at every turn," I summarized his adventure after opening the door to the passenger's seat. He got out to help me with my bags—not that I needed much help—and open up the trunk. Which was a good idea because the bag itself was covered in dirt and dust. "Ingenious."

"Well Leroy, perhaps I've come to prove just how good I am at driving that no officer would be in the right mind to pull me over. B-besides. It's one in the morning. The chances of getting away with a little misstep isn't too bad so I, well, decided to take the risk."

I laughed. "Thanks. But, just so you know, my pants and everything feel like they came out of a dumpster. Either I strip before getting in or you deal with your car seats getting fucked up."

And with that, he presented several towels from under the driver's seat, which he used to drape over the seats in the back. "Problem solved without resorting to more criminal activity. There. For you and Chicken."

I got in the back, helping Chicken up on the seat and making sure he kept his paws where they were supposed to be. He seemed too tired to do anything else other than sleep any way. "Someone came prepared."

He got into the driver's seat after closing the rest of the doors. "Well. Since I was going to break the law either way, I'd have to make the occasion count, no?" I caught his smile on the rear-view mirror.

It was a weird feeling; having someone to pick me up from work at this hour, this late into the night and just when I'd run dry. At least one person in this world didn't expect to see me at my best twenty-four-seven. One who also understood that I wasn't in the right mind for questions and answers. I laughed, breathless.

"Guess I'm the luckiest criminal in the world then."

*

I heard his voice first, which might've been the cause for snowflakes in the dream I was having. Must have nodded off on the ride back at some point. He'd made it to the underground parking lot of his apartment building without any hiccups and though I wasn't exactly able to see him drive and all, I casually dropped a word or two about being impressed.

"I know you were asleep the entire ride, you idiot," he rolled his eyes, offering to help with my bags but there wasn't much in the first place so I turned him down. We get into the elevator with Chicken and he tapped his keycard before pushing the button for his floor. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Could go for another run," I teased just to see his reaction. "Think I can use your washing machine for a bit?"

"Of course. Um, you go ahead and take your time with the shower. I'll do your laundry."

It was hard to refuse his offer but I wasn't going to let him in on the jacket I'd brought along with me (it being the only actual piece of clothing I'd bothered with) so I asked if he could help Chicken instead.

"He must've had a long day too," he lowered his gaze to my boy, slowly reaching down for a head pat as though afraid Chicken was going to reject him. "I can't imagine coming home to see my entire apartment burnt to bits."

I nearly had a brain fart moment—on the verge of correcting him with a casual 'technically it's only a hole in the kitchen'—but saved myself in the nick of time 'cuz ultimately, all this idiot wanted was more time with his genius. Score.

"What about that neighbor of yours?" He went on after unlocking the front door with his fingerprint and holding it open. "Erlynn?"

I was surprised (not really, come to think of it) he asked about her. "Same thing, I guess. No gas and electricity for a week or two, so."

"Does she have a place to stay for the night at least?" He looked worried, filling the electric kettle for some hot water. "Goodness. The shock must have been awful."

"She has a couple of friends up Camberwell," I let on, dropping my duffel bag beside the washing machine before sending in whatever that needed a spin. "You actually sound a lot more concerned about her than I was."

He folded his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter which made his legs look good. Very good. Very fucking good.

"Hm. Well she did just lose a shelter over her head. Why?" A rare, wry smile brushing his lips made them look like they were ripe. "Are you jealous?"

It was moments like these that throw me off; like the time at the hotel with the keycard; like that night in the RV; like everything that he was. I let the washing machine run while heading to the primary bathroom for a shower.

"A bit."

"Silly idiot."

"I'm hungry."

"Oh. Oh, shall I make something edible? Although I can only hope with whatever we have, I'd be able to deliver something of such quality—"

"Dessert." I said over my shoulder before closing the door to hide a smile. "Something sweet."

"Dessert?" Heard him through the door. Chicken was due in other bathroom down the hallway for a wash. "Leroy are you hearing yourself? D-does this mean your taste buds have returned and are fully... but that can't be right. Just yesterday, you... if that's the case, this calls for a celebration! I'll see what I can do at a time like this. Maybe we could call for donuts to be delivered."

I was laughing under the water. Like I said, he was making me lay it all out for him. Sometimes, even geniuses needed a hand. "See if they have Vanilla on the menu."

"Vanilla-flavored donuts?" His voice was faint over the sound of running water but it sounded like he was standing outside, trying to have a conversation while browsing his phone for options. The image in my head was a solid ten-out-of-ten. "You mean, the glazed ones? Goodness. I should have known your preferences would remain tragically atrocious even with the full return of your senses but you never fail to disappoint me."

"No, Vanilla," I killed the shower to lather up. "Put the phone down, take off your clothes, and lie on the fucking bed. That's my preference."

He paused on the other end of the door and already I could imagine the look on his face. And Chicken just waiting patiently for his shower. I let slip a laugh.

"Oh thank god I thought you were serious about that."

"What the—of course I was serious, dumbass!" I called through the door, turning the shower back on and just enjoying the entire thing in general. "Why would I mess with you about wanting sex?"

"Nh—that's, no, I, well. The thing is. Y-you're tired. You must be. After all that. A-and and and—"

"Yeah, so, thing is, I get in the mood whenever my brain's fried from work." This was me trying to come up with a scientific explanation for my dick. "So I can't get it down unless I jerk off."

"Oh." Was all he concluded, going quiet all of a sudden. And then that was the end of it and for the rest of the shower, he'd left me wondering if I'd actually somehow ascended to genius-level scientific explanations that even he found acceptable or if I'd scared him away. Sadly, the second one was more likely.

I hopped out of the shower ten minutes later, having taken a tad longer 'cuz of the ash and grime, to find him in his pyjamas (sad face) and three towels stacked on top of one another in his arms. Not exactly what I ordered but I'll take it.

"O-oh! You're done. That was fast. I'm setting up a bed for Chicken on the loveseat outside. It's the comfiest one, right beside the heating too." So that's what the towels were for. "Give me a minute. I'll get you some clothes."

I had to pause for a second because, mm, I didn't exactly factor clothes into the equation, so the calculations were off. He brought me back with the news that my laundry wasn't going to be for another hour. Perfect timing. 200 IQ planning.

"What do you have in there, exactly?" He had to ask next, laying out the insanely good-smelling towels on the cushion seat and satisfying my boy's needs for the night. "I'm not sure if the model I have is suited for washing your gear. Should I hand-wash it for you after?"

I told him that it was fine and accidentally let slip about the uh. The jacket.

His face said it all. "Y—what?" I watched his ears grow a shade darker. "I-it's just. Why did you... couldn't you have... why would you have any use for that when, well. The... the real one is right before you?"

There were limits to holding back in general and keeping the thing under the towel on my waist in check; Vanilla wasn't doing himself any favors. I drew him in—hand on the back of his neck and going in for one that was long and deep. The movement stunned him for a bit and left his lips conveniently parted.

It wasn't like me to resurface after five seconds but I did. Something was different about the kiss. Staring at him didn't seem to work things out so I went back in for more and there it was again.

"W-wait," he had a hand on my chest and it was his fingers that I felt, mainly. Long and slender. Tracing the skin under my collarbone. "I should um. Get you some clothes."

"What," I nearly laughed, leaning in because there was something about hearing my voice right by his ear that he liked and I knew. After all, candles were good at melting the snow. "Can't handle this even after seeing it twice?"

His eyes did the pointing and I could tell from the way they shifted that he was feeling the nerves. "It's just. Well. They look so... defined. I mean. By god, bread rolls." He whispered in panic before entangling himself from my arms and escaping to the kitchen. Next to the laundry room.

I followed, trying to hide the amusement on my lips while watching him prepare two mugs of warm milk. "So... we're just gonna stand around drinking milk while we wait for my laundry?"

"Y—well, that would. Depend on. You know it was a whole lot easier that night with a glass of wine and and and dim lighting." He glanced, again, at my upper body; half his face hidden by the mug of milk he was sipping from. Then his glasses starting fogging up as though the sight was too much for him to take and they needed to censor everything else. "I'll go check on your clothes."

"You just did a few minutes ago, dumbass."

"Yes but. I forgot to um. Check the settings you keyed in." He made up another excuse before retreating into the laundry room and then bending over to check the digital screen to the top right of the front-load. Took me a second to realize I was enjoying the view. Which was dumb because why leave it to the eyes when hands could do more.

I joined him, lifting him by the waist for a tease but then deciding to follow through, sitting him on top of the washer. His weight was surprisingly effortless. That, or five years of firefighting was good enough to mess with my sense of mass. See what I did there?

"U-um, Leroy, I don't think washing machines are meant for sitting. Especially for someone my—" He flinched, holding onto my shoulders for a bit. I couldn't tell if he was reacting to the position or the fact that I had a finger skimming the band of his pants and was ready to see that in the laundry bag conveniently beside the washer.

I figured he needed a distraction and whatever it was bothering him could be easily solved by a kiss; perfect for the levelled height now that he was sitting on something elevated. My hands started out on his waist, working its way down and sneaking in places his pyjamas did not allow for.

It worked. I wasn't sure if he'd shifted his thighs apart to accommodate me during the kiss but the closed distance was all I needed for further distraction.

He had his arms around my neck and deepening the kiss had the result of his scent hitting me like a truck. A sweet-smelling bed of flowers in the snow that in a moment, would melt under the heat.

In a single motion, I tugged at the band of his pants and slipped an entire hand into the fabric—skimming the side of his waist, his hip, and down his thighs that felt like silk; the other hand wandering up his inner thigh and pressuring the sweet spot I discovered way back.

He whimpered through the kiss, flinching again which I started to realize was another reaction of his to sensitivity. I held back, holding off the heat for a wave check. Searching his half-lidded gaze.

"Your call."

He bit his lip and gave me a look as though this was a cause for disappointment. "Unbelievable, i-is what you are, Leroy. Saying that as you're... halfway through the removal of my pyjama pants! As, as though you haven't done anything but uphold the law."

"The law mandates you choose between here and the bedroom for the main event." I said. He looked surprised.

"Where did you learn that word?"

"What. Mandates?"

"Yes. It seems a little advanced for... w-what are you—Leroy, you can't just..." So apparently improving my vocabulary could come in handy for distractions like these because the surprise had caught him so off guard that sending his silk pants into their rightful place in the laundry basket was reduced to simple math.

"I'm thinking; bed. What do you think?" I left it there without an explanation for my English. Priorities, right.

"I... I don't think I'm in the state to—oh!" I lifted him off the washer easy, almost instinctively reaching for his arm which was the position for a fireman's carry or an over-the-shoulder. For him though, it had to be the obvious one. "How do you, just, pick me up like that aand and in a... as though I'm a..."

I laughed when he trailed off because the word was apparently far too embarrassing for him to even voice aloud. "Bride?"

"Excuse me while I report you to the authorities."

"Sure. But do that tomorrow." I set him down on the bed. "Priorities, Mr. White." I reached down to untuck the edge of the towel on my waist but he caught me this time, holding my hands in place and refusing to let go.

"The towel stays. That is an order. Or... or, hold on. I'm sure I can find you a pair of pants, at the very least." He shifted away from the bed and towards the closet on the other end of the room, dragging his feet. Which was something I'd never seen him do.

"You okay?" I stared at his legs that were out in the open. No sign of a sprain or anything. And yet, walking looked like a struggle.

"Oh no, it's probably just the..." He stuck his head in the closet and hid the rest of his face. "Numb feet."

I let him busy himself with finding me a pair of pants in my size although I was pretty sure he'd have to give up sooner or later since he'd have no reason to own anything two to three sizes bigger. Him keeping himself occupied freed up some time for me to do the devil's work. The bedside drawer was where I was headed.

I removed the safety seal on the squeeze bottle of lube and tested its consistency on my fingers. Then I picked up the boxes of condoms and removed one each from the packaging for easy access. I heard him shuffling across the oom and glanced over my shoulder to see a pair of lounge pants in his arms. The kind that stretched.

"This should do." He held them out to me before redirecting his gaze to the stuff in my hands and then looking away flustered. "You're still...? But Leroy, you're tired and, so, we had an early morning and for you, a long day. And you have to be reporting for work in just a few hours. I don't think..."

I untucked the end of my towel and let it drop before reaching for the pair of pants he held out to me. His reaction was to jump and turn a hundred and eighty degrees, back faced towards me but then funnily enough with his hands over his eyes. Naturally, I did this all on purpose. Just to prove my point.

"How...? How are you that—I-I mean you were completely exhausted of all energy just! Just thirty minutes ago!" Was all he had to say which was great because at least now, I'd established a need for activity and lack of actual sleep intention.

The pair of lounge pants was not going to help very much with hiding whatever was going on below my waist. I took his shoulders, sitting him down on the edge of the bed and doing the same beside him. He now had gaps between his fingers which he peered through.

"Ready when you are."

I caught his eyes wandering a little lower, and then back up to meet mine. Neither of us said a word for a while; just, staring and almost relishing in the height of tension, waiting for the other to crack and then, he did something that made me double, triple think about this being one of those dreams.

He got on his knees.

I liked to call them winter dreams, the ones where I had him under me, or on top, riding, or in front, up against a window or a mirror but this one—this one I'd never really had. He was kneeling; both knees, on the floor in a way that allowed him to sit, resting his weight on the heels of his feet and then looking up at me from between my legs.

He said nothing. But I could tell from the waves in his eyes and the slight tremble in his fingers that this was new. Very new. His fingers came up to rest on the edge of the bed as though this was all he allowed himself to hold on to and then, swallowing once, leaned in to nuzzle my erection through the fabric.

The view.

It got me.

And then I was reaching down to coax the back of his neck a little closer in a firm hold, but gently massaging the spot between the ends of his hair and his nape. Brushing stray locks behind his ear revealed a vivid blush—shy of attention and the spark of firsts. I lowered the band of my pants, pulling it out so that he could take it in full view.

His reaction was to stare. Like, full-on. And then a second later, as though it took him that long to register, blush right through his glasses with a nervous gulp. "U-um."

He didn't reach for it; just leaned in with his hands still holding onto the edge of the bed, side by side in perfect symmetrical order, and closing his eyes before his lips brushed the tip of my head.

My fingers on the back of his neck ran through his hair on instinct, pulling him closer but the rest of it had to be kept in check before things started spiraling out of control and end up scaring him away. I couldn't tell if this was him being shy or opting for a daring tease but fuck did it drive.

"Mhn." He tried to take the tip of my head past his lips but the sound and the view only served to make things harder for him, growing a size or two and stopping him from going any further. He retreated, panting a little and glancing up through his glasses that had gone askew.

For some reason, he did not keep his distance even as he was rethinking the entire approach. My cock was resting just beside his lip, hard against the side of his nose and then all the way up to his forehead, brushing the tips of his fringe.

"Too much?" I reached down to tilt his chin, raising it a little. He shook his head, taking my hand between both of his own and then running the tip of his tongue from the base of my length all the way to the head. "Fuck."

And then he tried again, lowering his head and taking me into his mouth—being extra careful with his teeth and controlled breathing, so that he wouldn't choke.

"Wouldn't be surprised if you," I paused to guide the back of his head, "actually did your research."

The tip of my head hit the roof of his mouth; the part they called the soft palate, which was further back and smoother compared to the hard ridges up front. The contact made him flinch, half-lidded eyes tearing up all of a sudden.

I pulled back, giving him some space and he did too, coughing twice and reaching up to cover his lips that were wet. I got up, poured him a glass of water from his bedside table and handed it to him. He thanked me with a nod and sipped on it.

"You okay?"

"It... it's not like in the books," he sulked and I could only find myself amused. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. And... and it doesn't taste like anything."

I laughed, reaching down to flick his nose. "Not yet, sure. You wanna stop?"

"No, no, just now, that—the roof of my... the contact, i-it was... it felt... good." He was red all the way up to his ears and wow, I had not been expecting another sweet spot. I set the glass of water aside for him and when I turned my attention back down, he had resumed the position he was in a minute ago: holding onto the edge of the bed, looking up at me with eyes that were now slightly teary.

Gently, I reached down to remove his glasses and although he didn't seem to mind, the blush on his cheeks appeared to darken, as though I'd removed another clothing item and now, he was a tad more undressed than before.

"Mhn." I guided the back of his head back to where he'd stopped moments ago and he obliged, closing his eyes and taking me in—past the head, further down my shaft until, again, my tip hit the roof of his mouth, further down the back. I noticed how his fingers dug into the sheets just as I did and on instinct, I'd pulled back an inch before thrusting in for a surprise.

He whimpered; half eyes glancing up and then back down, trying to concentrate on taking the rest of me in but the friction around his lips that were wet and the insides of his mouth, soft and warm, coaxed by his tongue that brushed the underside of my cock was enough.

I felt it grow in his mouth and I think that shocked him a little; his fingers left the edge of the bed to caress the base of my length, as though he wasn't sure if he was allowed to hold it and re-adjusting his lips to accommodate my growth. But a few more drives against that spot on the roof of his mouth and he was holding on, feeling it down his back and below his waist, trembling now and then.

It was brushing against his teeth that I knew I was stretching him thin and that his lips weren't going to be able to hold anything more than the sixty percent that I was currently at so I pulled back, laxing my hold on the back of his head.

He raised his gaze in a blur, the red on his ears becoming quite the view I found myself wanting to get used to. "Leroy...? Did I... was it bad?"

"No, dumbass," I laughed, lifting him onto the bed and reaching over to retrieve the glass of water from before. "Any more than that, I'd hurt you. It's hard to resist, whatever you were doing."

He needed a moment to process this, which was a whole reversal of roles because usually, it was me needing the extra time to work things out with his dictionary. "O-oh. Well I... I'm glad you liked it but... but it's still..." he left his sentence unfinished, glancing down at my sixty-percent before shifting his legs and being strangely conscious about himself all of a sudden.

"Are you feeling it just from giving head?" I felt the oncoming smirk and he averted his gaze on instinct, as though having wandered a little too close to the flame.

"I. It's not... what you think. But you know, I did study very much while you were, um, just now. Having observed your demonstration last night too, so. Do you, maybe, think... it paid off?"

I laughed low, running my fingers through his hair. "Like I said. You were good."

He seemed happy with my response; waves rippling a little here and then before going back to the adrenaline-state. He tried to hide his expression behind the glass of water.

I pulled him up into a seated position, with his knees flanking my right and left, weight on my lap so that we were facing each other. Eyes levelled.

"You tell me when it hurts," I laid out, uncapping the bottle of lube and gathering a good amount on my palm to first warm it in my hands. "Heard?"

I felt him nod in my neck, and then him trying to look over his shoulder to see what I was doing. I had the other hand making its way down the small of his back and then to the band of his briefs, slipping in and then slowly moving it out of the way.

"W-wait. Wait, Leroy, there's—I forgot to—"

Oh.

My fingers brushed something foreign; something that wasn't soft and silky and warm. I blinked. "This?" Just out of curiosity, I prodded it with my index and he gasped, burying his head further into my neck and I had the liberty to explore the rest of it, tugging on something that felt like a cross between plastic and... oh. Silicone.

He had been wearing a plug.

"Vanilla." To say I was surprised was an understatement. It wasn't even about how or where he got this but the fact that he even knew it existed or, that it would've helped with training and prepping him for the main event or anything like that since, y'know, it was going to be his first time.

"You put this in by yourself?" I tugged at the base of the plug gently and it was tight. He nodded in my neck. Sniffling.

So that's why he couldn't stand sitting on the washer. It was a hard surface. And vibrated.

"How long?"

"I... I was... since you left," he said into my shoulder now, shifting a little from the embarrassment because I'd turned to catch a glimpse of his face. "I mean, I was... waiting for you to come home. That's all." "And then you thought of breaking the law to see me." "W-well, every sane person would have been worried, Leroy."

Knowing this only served to bring me up to a seventy percent, hardened by his cute effort that was just turning out to be, unbeknownst to him, the sexiest thing alive.

"So you had this in you the whole time?" I'd covered the base of the plug in lube and was slowly easing it out of him the entire time we talked.

He whimpered, raising his hips unconsciously while dropping his waist—forming this sweet, sensual arc that I was in full view of.

Once fully removed, I got a good look at the plug. A standard bullet. Beginner-sized. Simple design, not tacky. Just functional. Though judging by the size, I'd have to work a little harder with the prep.

"So... you bought this?"

He nodded.

"Where?"

"O-online..."

"When?"

"A few weeks ago."

"Before London?"

"When I arrived..."

Again, I looked down at it, already working on easing a finger in with my other hand. "Was it expensive?"

"Mhn—! Not," he shivered. "Not really. It was... it came as a set."

Wasn't expecting that either. "How many?" I slipped my index deeper, in and out, and then added another.

"Four...ha—! S-sizes..."

Now that I had two fingers in and felt the tightness around his heat, I could say for sure: even a forty-percent wasn't going to fit. Thirty would be a squeeze. A simple prep session wasn't going to cut it.

"So... you learned how to put it in yourself?" I distracted while searching for his edge. Fingers wandering deeper, slipping in and out for extra stimulation.

"There was um, a... a-an instruction. Manual." He had a hand over his mouth so his voice came out slightly muffled. Soft. "It's actually quite helpful. There was a, a step-by-step—!"

His words cut off as soon as my fingers brushed against something tensed, almost springy, deeper in—replaced by a vivid trembling of his entire frame and a sweet, sweet version of my name.

"Here?" I teased, pressuring against that spot and moving in a way that resembled a thrusting. An in and out.

He caved, nodding and speechless all of a sudden with the subtle rocking of his hips that matched my movement. The underside of my cock rubbed against his chest when he scooted closer, burying his head in my shoulders with my name on his tongue.

It was three fingers now, comfortably snug with the perfect level of tightness for some good fucking friction and I could from his voice, weak with pleasure, that I was driving him up the edge with every inward thrust against his prostate. The sweet spot that could trigger full-body orgasms like he was experiencing right this instant.

His climax was a quiver that felt like an avalanche of honey and snow—a wet, throbbing heat on my fingers and a sweet, sexy little sigh that slipped past his lips. A sound no one else would have thought would come from an icicle so cold and sharp on the outside.

I was so amused, so satisfied by his response that it didn't even cross my mind that I was stuck at eighty-percent with a spent ball of snow ready to crash.

"Leroy, why didn't you... was... was something missing? Did I do it wrong?"

I laughed beside his ear, shaking my head. "No. It's not you. I'm... still not gonna fit."

"B-but I had it in for more than three hours!"

Holy fuck, I couldn't stop laughing inside because wow, was he cute when he wanted to be. Or not. I wasn't thinking straight, bottom line. Just enjoying this.

"We'll get there."

==========================

[Vanilla]

I always had my opinions about working remotely but falling asleep at three and waking up two hours later was a lifetime new and had somehow converted myself into a believer of online conference calls and meetings instead of, well, having to be present in person. Although technically, I could have enjoyed another two hours in bed but being the light sleeper that I was, Leroy stirring at his alarm beside me was enough to shake the sleep out of my head.

I'd searched the medicine cabinet for an extra toothbrush and handed that to him before groggily making for the living room to check on Chicken and then the kitchen for breakfast. Two hard-boiled eggs.

Needless to say, I was horrified to witness the radiant, almost fiery energy in the eyes of my idiot roommate-cum-bed-sharer-person-thing while I, a drained icicle, could barely keep myself afloat after a night's worth of... o-of... goodness, it wasn't even a night, it was barely an hour and here I was feeling like an aged being. This said a little too much about our difference in physical stamina and whatnot, which therefore called for solutions.

Either way, I'd sent him off at the doorstep and handed him the eggs and car keys while he had the audacity to initiate more criminal activity before leaving with a wink over his shoulder. Mind you, this was merely the first night of a two-week-long stay and by god, was I going to amass a ton of arrest warrants and and and legal documents by the end of it.

I'd spent the next two hours or so preparing for the meeting with the external production team and current stakeholders of that tasteless culinary program I had been invited to, specifically at the request of several clients who were interested in contributing to the program in one any or another. This would also mean I had to be facing the chief executive of said production company, Mr. Caelum, with my tail between my legs having only just rejected his offer the day before.

At the very least, I had Chicken's company on the couch to tide over the unholy business reports and documents I had to read before the virtual meeting. A short break, too, had been necessary to fix up a small bowl of English porridge, topped with blueberries and a sliced banana. And then I had some bonding time with my companion by tossing blueberries across the kitchen and having him catch them in the air.

Nine o'clock sharp, all personnel, staff members, and relevant parties joined the video call for a short presentation by the program's chief producer, followed by a Q&A and then a briefing for respective stakeholders. I made sure to dress formally, with a cup of tea within arm's reach and sufficient natural lighting before turning my laptop camera on.

There was a panel to the right where they had the names of every participant in the call listed out; among them were several familiar ones. Andre. Siegfried. Antoinette. Headmaster Carson of Le Cordon Bleu, Chen's stepfather. And... good god, was that Chef Marseille? It's been years since we spoke, except the occasional birthday wish on text but to see her here was... was an honest surprise.

"...mentioned, the social media campaign will be launched in the next few days to gather nominations for chef participants. So far, we have a list of fixed nominees for the show but as Chef Cox has ensured, we're keeping our options open to new nominations by the public..."

I navigated through the rest of the participant list, not quite paying the slides any attention. My curiosity had been piqued, only because Chef Marseille was never one to make foolish decisions and a brief discussion with her would provide some insight to whatever was going on.

"The format of the competition will not change. Each stage will guarantee an elimination and every stage will consist of an individual and team component, alternating between mystery boxes and missions-based cook-offs. The only change on the production side of things would be the hosting of each stage in a different country featuring respective celebrity chefs or critics native to the land. With Chef Cox and Chef Carson on our board of stakeholders, we were able to secure premium sponsors for the show's..."

I typed out a private greeting to Chef Marseille and sent it.

"...increasing viewership. As usual, more nominees are welcome but we want to focus on building a line-up that will entertain. Of course, a diverse cast would also..."

She appeared to be typing a response before the notification stopped completely and was still for a second. This was when Chicken decided to leave the comfort of his seat by the heater and wander around the apartment. I had to maintain some form of professionalism, however. Since everyone had their cameras turned on.

"...thank Chef Andre for a new name! He's the, uh, mystery chef. The one in the media. I'm sure we all know who we're talking about. Well the good news is that having him on the show would definitely boost the entertainment value of our line-up and thanks to Chef Andre, I see no problems with viewership. If anyone has ideas about how else we can fuel the hype for this new guy becoming a part of the line-up, we'll be discussing that this afternoon on another call. Email..."

My attention was split all of a sudden. Andre willingly recommending a talented chef who could very well beat him in his trade on national television did not sound like something he would do. That, and the fact that this unknown being of culinary genius had even... even agreed to something like this felt almost atrocious. At the very least, someone else seemed to think the same.

"Sorry, I'd just like to ask," a stakeholder unmuted her microphone to speak. "How did you manage to contact this... mystery chef, person?"

And then it was that all-knowing, holier-than-thou voice that I had unfortunately become acquainted with. "I can answer that," said Chef Andre, the background of his video screen depicting some part of his lunchtime bistro. "So there was a recipe for the soup, right. Someone from the show's production team got the secret ingredient correct. I'm not surprised, really. These are renowned, celebrity critics we're talking about. The chef has agreed to come on board as per the request."

Oh, was all I could think then. Well. Someone else with a refined palate would have figured out the secret ingredient eventually, I suppose. Although I imagine Andre couldn't have taken this too well considering his... well, need to capitalize on media buzz for increased revenue. Admittedly however, I would be lying if I claimed not to be the slightest bit disappointed at—oh! Chicken must be hungry.

"Hold on, just... fifteen more minutes alright?" I whispered to him while he stared up at me from the corner of the table, and then padding closer to rest his paw on my knee for attention. My gaze alternated from the screen of my laptop to him. "Just fifteen minutes."

He jumped onto the chair beside me all of a sudden, pawing at my seat as though he wanted in on the fun but there was no fun, just a boring video conference a-and and because he was a border collie with a decent age and build, sitting up on the seat beside me had him in the full view of my camera.

Professionally-speaking, there were no rules about having pets on screen during a virtual meeting but in a way, I wouldn't be surprised if some conservative member of society decided to forbid the appearance of a furry companion. Anyway, people in the call started noticing in no time. More specifically, Siegfried had went as far as to unmute his mic and, in a tone that sounded slightly surprised and amused at the same time, asked: "Is that your dog?" 

=====================

A/N: Did you Beans enjoy that? PLEASE I HOPE U DID BECAUSE THE EFFORT I PUT INTO THIS SINGLE RATED SCENE IS EXPLOSIVE AND I AM DIE NOW I NEED SLEEP WHEEEE

Okay I hope that was the most enjoyable one you've read to date because I don't know if I've been improving my skills at white stuff but I CAN ONLY HOPE I HAVE ;-; pls shower cuppie with nice icing and sprinkles because she spent her halloween writing S*X. I want candy pls ;-; 

-Cuppie