[For Bobby] Dinner is served. [Late March, NSFW]

[prodigalflame]

There was something oddly satisfying about cooking. It was like getting back at his mom and showing up everyone he ever knew all at once. Chopping ingredients and sorting through recipes - sure, he was a lot more haphazard than his mom had ever raised him to be, but he got shit done. The actual act of cooking was restorative, using his powers in a fashion that didn't lead to ash and char and devastation.

Mind, right now, his mind wasn't entirely on the recipe he was preparing. After all, he was standing there in his apron and a pair of socks and not much else. Trying to ignore just how aware he was of his bare butt, John 'hmmm'd like it was any other evening, and turned the page of his tattered old recipe book, glancing between the ingredients he'd roughly chopped on the counter and the illustration.

Fuck it, Italian food was always supposed to be a bit rustic. He'd wing the rest, he decided, and got on with it, igniting the gas under the pot of water with a flick of a switch - and then keeping it going with his mind. Cooking with powers was trickier than most people would assume, especially with his powers - he was still dependent on something else igniting the flame, and then he had to manually control the flame despite the flow of the gas through the stove. He'd been doing it since he was 14, though - so that was something. And he sang a little to himself, snatches of stupid dorky love songs, as he decided to chop up some salami and olives.

At least when Bobby came home he'd have two surprises waiting for him.

Comments

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby groaned, half-wishing he had a free hand so he could rub his own hard cock through his pants, but he would just have to be content to wait, and in the meantime the sounds he was inspiring from John were their own kind of exquisite torture, each sending a surge of heat through him.

The offer to fuck him, broken by gasps and moans, was tempting, but Bobby gave a little shake of his head and redoubled his efforts. No, he wanted to make John come just like this, at least this time, and that was made pretty clear without him stopping to utter a single word, simply in the single-minded focus he was putting into the task at hand (and at tongue).

[prodigalflame]

"Ohmygod," fell from John's lips like a curse and a utterance of thanks when he realised that Bobby was not, in fact, gonna fuck him. "You're gonna-" And then he just hitched his head back and opened his mouth to moan, instinctual, loud, and utterly wanton even as Bobby's tongue worked deeper and John wriggled a little, squirming under Bobby's grasp and care until he was undone with a grunting "-Fuck."

And then he was coming hard, spurting all over the goddamn kitchen cupboard, body shuddering and sweaty and flushed from the power of his orgasm, settling with clawed fingers against the counter-top to heave out breaths in the afterglow.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby grinned, easing back as he felt John come, squeezing his hip gently before he sat back on his heels, looking pretty damn smug. That had been fun. "God, you're so hot," he murmured, climbing to his feet as he waited for John to recover from his orgasm.

[prodigalflame]

John turned to look at him, eyes fixed on Bobby's mouth. The mouth that had just explored him in that most intimate of places, and even though as he was still panting, he had Bobby up against the counter himself quick-smart, and kissed him deep and long to taste himself on those lips. Bobby was pretty fucking hot as far as he was concerned.

Taking a ragged breath, John turned away and swallowed: "...I am not cooking tonight," he declared, with just the hint of a grin. "But I think we should order pizza, and then I should blow you." John ran such a sophisticated household.

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby laughed softly, glancing at the half-prepared meal he'd interrupted. "Sorry, didn't mean to kill your cooking groove," he said with a grin, clearly not sorry at all. "I'm good with your new plan." Especially the blowing him part. He was achingly hard, and that kiss had done nothing to alleviate that in the slightest. "But if that's the order we're doing this in--order fast," he added, moving up to press his body against John's back, letting him feel the arousal, feel how hard doing that had made Bobby.