Title: Christmas Brownies
Author: slightly_frayed, a.k.a. Fraying, a.k.a. Laurie
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17. Yaaaay!
Summary: This is almost frightening for me to post. So maybe Christmas isn't meant to evoke images of lovely men having sex on the counter whilst attempting to bake various Christmas-related sweet things, but I really don't care. XD Hmmm... summarize, Laurie. Summarize: I wrote this with my friend Katie, who came up with the concept and merely used me as a vehicle. You rock, dear.Domestic, holiday-themed (though very vaguely), gorgeous men, kitchen!sex. Happy (insert whatever you celebrate here)!
“I need some sugar, Sweetness.”
“Awww.” Nick looks at Greg and rolls his eyes.
“Seriously though, I need the sugar.”
“Yes Greggo, I’m getting the sugar. It’s not as easy as you think it would be to navigate through half a dozen bags of Blue Hawaiian.”
“I can’t run out, Nicky. You know that.”
“How are you going to run out of five pounds of coffee?” Greg sighs.
“Sugar, Nick. Please?” Nick passes him the sugar and, measuring cup in hand, Greg adds it to the brownie batter.
“Remind me again why we’re making Christmas brownies and not cookies?”
“You can’t lick the spoon when you’re making cookies. Too cakey. Raw flour’s gross.”
“There’s flour in brownies.”
“Well yeah, but there’s chocolate too. It makes you forget about the flour.” Greg pops the pan into the oven and hops like a child onto the counter. He’s holding his hand out, grabbing at something invisible in the air, and Nick gives him a puzzled look.
“Spoon, Nicky. I want the spoon.”
“Words, G. I enjoy words.” Now Greg’s rolling his eyes and Nick somehow forgets how childish Greg can be when his tongue darts out from between pink lips to taste the chocolate on the spoon.
Suddenly Nick’s mind is flooded with pleasant images of chocolate and skin and it’s all he can do to
keep himself from jumping Greg on the counter.
Scratch that, he’s doing it.
And Greg looks shocked for about half a second before his hands are reaching around Nick and pulling him closer, their mouths clashing. Nick can taste chocolate and he’s frantically pulling at the younger man’s shirt, thinking that Greg’s skin and chocolate are somehow meant to be enjoyed together.
Greg’s equally frustrated now, hooking his ankles together behind Nick and pressing them into the small of his back. Nick’s finally somehow pulling Greg’s shirt over his head, and the spoon, long forgotten, hits the floor. Trembling hands fumble with the front of Greg’s jeans and when he hears the sound of a zipper, all he can think about is Nick fucking him hard into their kitchen counter.
When the fantasy dissolves, he’s naked and as if by some divine miracle, Nick’s half undressed too. He pulls Nick’s hand up and takes two of his fingers in his mouth, delighting in the soft moan it produces.
“Please, Nicky…” It’s all he has to say before he hears Nick’s jeans falling to the floor to pool around his feet.
Somehow Nick’s fingers aren’t in Greg’s mouth anymore, and they’re pressing rather impatiently at the younger man’s entrance, his breath catching in his throat. Greg doesn't have time to realize that he's in a rather uncomfortable position on their kitchen counter before Nick finds it, that miraculous spot that makes him lose all sense of reality and succumb completely to whatever the hell is going on.
It would seem that Nick's equally as impatient and he pulls his fingers out and positions himself at Greg's entrance. The two men moan together when, after what feels like far too long, he pushes inside and slowly begins to thrust.
Their senses blur as they rock together; the taste of skin, the smell of chocolate, that feeling of togetherness that they've both only had with one another. The kitchen's filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and strangled moans, and they climax together.
There are several minutes of total silence, and just before Greg's about to fall asleep on their kitchen counter with Nick practically on top of him, he inhales deeply.
"Uh, Nicky? Do you smell something burning?"
Have a fabulous end-of-December, everyone.
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