The Pancake Block
The floor was cold under my feet. The morning light felt different for some reason, like it was a totally different and unique day. I pulled a pair of grey sweats on, not for modesty, but because flipping pancakes naked seemed rather impractical. I didn’t want him to put on his jeans from yesterday, after a full workday in them. I wanted him to be comfortable and casual so I left him a pair of sweats that used to fit me. Just in case he wanted them.
I was in my kitchen, feeling the hardwood beneath my bare feet, making breakfast. Well, more like making HIM breakfast. He was in my bed, naked, and looking unbelievably perfect. Even after fucking him again I couldn’t seem to get enough of him. In fact, if he came in the kitchen right now, I’d probably want to fuck him again.
The sheer, simple normality of it was a shift in my brain. And then I heard the bed creak, and the soft pad of his footsteps. He appeared in the doorway, wearing the grey pants I left for him, and I noticed right away his cock swinging free in the middle as leaned against the frame. His hair was a mess from our recent morning romp, his eyes still soft with sleep, the pants a big baggy on his muscular lean frame. But otherwise he looked absolutely stellar. He looked like he belonged here.
My chest suddenly felt tight.
"You're staring, Volkov," he said, a slow, sleepy smile spreading across his face.
"You're worth staring at," I said, letting my eyes rake over his bare torso all the way down to those tasty looking feet of his. The words came out easy. No filter. No second-guessing. I turned back to the bowl, mixing the batter. "You still got the body of a quarterback even though you’re now a mechanic. It's a good look."
I could feel his pleased silence behind me. “And you’ve got the body of a mechanic that looks like you ate the other mechanics.”
I let out a laugh then, mixing the batter. “You got a full dose of my protein last night, and another one this morning. Maybe it’ll put some hair on your chest. If not, the pancakes might help too. Unless you need some more protein from me?”
I heard the soft intake of breath from the doorway. “I’d love more.”
Goddamn it I could fuck him again, right here and now, I thought in my head. It felt natural, the teasing, the sexual talk rolling off my tongue.
"Never had anyone here before," I said, pouring the first pancake onto the griddle. It sizzled, filling the quiet. "In this house. A man, I mean. To…you know."
He was quiet for a moment. "I've never… stayed," he said, his voice quieter. "Not like this. I mean slept in a bed with a guy, all night. It was always quick and done, you know what I mean? Cars. Backseats. Motels by the hour. The married ones… they always leave right after. So this is a first."
I flipped the pancake. A perfect golden brown. "Yeah," I grunted. "I know the routine. Get yours, get out. No talking. No looking.” I looked up at him and felt rather open. “Never slept with a man either."
Our lives were similar. We'd been living the same lonely, secret life.
“Once he fucked me in his bed.” I heard him say quietly. “Just the once. It felt…I don’t know…wrong?”
I slid the first pancake onto a plate and turned to face him. He was watching me, his arms crossed, his expression almost vulnerable, the look of pain and guilt on his face stopped me short. I knew he meant his coach, but I couldn’t bring myself to mention his name.
"I'm glad then," I said, holding his gaze. "I'm glad that… this was the first overnighter. For both of us."
His smile then was small, but it reached his eyes, bright and a little watery as he looked up at me. "Me too, Ivan. Me too."
I turned back to the griddle, the moment feeling too big to hold. Especially hearing him say my name so naturally like that. Not boss, not big guy, not sir, just…Ivan. No one calls me that anymore. And it sounded so fucking good coming from him, standing there in only a pair of my old sweats and nothing else.
The next words came out lower, rougher. I was almost embarrassed to say it but for some reason I didn’t feel scared admitting it to him. "The garage…"
I didn't have to finish. I felt him move closer. He came to stand beside me, leaning his hip against the counter which made me automatically look at the line of his waist, as he watched the pancakes cook. His triceps flexed as he leaned back and I found myself now staring at the muscles in his arm.
"I know," he said, his voice soft but firm. "It has to be the same. Smitty. Big Ray. You don’t want them to know. I get it."
"It can't change anything there," I said, trying to find the right words. After the freedom of the night, the freedom of now, the thought of going back to pretending felt suddenly wrong. But I felt I needed to say it.
He nodded, moving closer to me as I stood by the stove, his shoulder brushing mine. A small, secret point of contact. "It won't. I promise." He was quiet for a beat. "It just makes this…here… mean more."
I looked at him then. This handsome younger man seemed to understand me, because he was playing the same game too. This seemed like a pact. Something just for us, our little secret, in the quiet of my kitchen, while the rest of the world slept.
I slid a perfect pancake onto his plate. "Yeah," I said, my voice rough with an emotion I couldn’t seem to control. "It does."
And before I could even put the pan down, Troy stepped right up to me and kissed me quickly, as if he was afraid of something. I dropped the pan on the stove and my hands found his ass instinctively. He had a great ass, and my hands seemed to curve over it perfectly. They dove into the waist of my sweats on him and my finger found its way into the crack of his ass still wet and warm from only a few minutes ago. He moaned into my mouth as we kissed hungrily and I felt his cock fully erect pressing against mine.
I was going to fuck him again. Right here against my kitchen counter.
“Ivan?” I heard him ask, but I only answered by turning him around and sliding those loose pants down over his glorious butt. I knelt down behind him and buried my face into those muscled cheeks. My tongue flicked out and I lapped at my own juices still lingering in his warm crack. I tasted my own sperm, his own scent, and my god did I want to be inside him again already.
He leaned forward, sticking himself outward, giving me full access to him. I loved the surrender of him, and I stood up, shoving my own sweats down over my fully hard cock, the sound of it smacking my own hard stomach filling the kitchen. I spit into my hand, rubbed it in and lined myself up and rammed it in him hard .I knew he was open from how he rode me just minutes before.
I’ve never been so turned on, and wanted to fuck again like this before.
I watched his triceps again as he held onto the counter. I listened to the way his breath hissed as I shoved myself into him so deep his body slammed into my cupboards. I grabbed hold of his trim waist and leaned my chest into his back and my mouth found his neck.
“I can’t believe how hard you make me.” I groaned into his flesh.
He half turned at me with a wicked smile and moved his ass, as if he was the one fucking me. “Fuck me again big guy. I need more of that Volkov protein!”
And I did, leaning back to watch his tight ass work my cock for a few fantastic minutes until I grabbed that hot body of his and fucked him like I meant it. But this wasn’t like the nameless ruts in the bathroom stall. I was into this man, and I LOVED pounding him hard, seeing that he could take it, and wanted it just as much.
He was gripping the counter tight, and his face said it all. He was loving this as much as I was. And that in itself, turned me on so fucking much.
“You like this?” I heard myself asking as my hand moved up to his neck.
He responded by grabbing my other hand from his waist and he made me reach around him to find his own cock bobbing against his abs. It was hard and thick and throbbing in my grip.
“Fuck yeah, I LOVE it!” he moaned, turning his head to find my lips.
I hungrily ate his mouth, shoving my tongue into his as I jerked his cock while bucking my hips into him. He broke our kiss to moan loudly, telling me he was going to cum, as I kept up my assault into him
Cum flew out of him and hit my lower cupboards as his body rocked backwards into mine in a shuddering explosion, causing his ass to clench repeatedly on my dick. I clutched his body to mine, pulling him backwards and kept drilling his ass, ready to give him more of me.
And I did, in a toe curling orgasm, I rammed another round of my cum in him again, causing me to breathlessly rest my head on his shoulders until I knew I wasn’t going to pass out.
I opened my eyes to see the perfect looking pancake on the plate in front of him. “You better eat that while you have the chance before I have to fuck you again.”
He moved forward releasing me from his probably sore arse and let out a loud exhale. “Keep this up and I won’t wanna do anything else but be fucked. Jesus Ivan, who knew you had it in you.”
I took a step back and looked at how amazing Troy Jenkins looked, with my old sweats bunched around his perfect looking ankles and calves, his cock still thick and leaking cum, his body glistening in sweat, and the cutest little smile on his face that made me smile even wider.
“Well, to be honest, I never knew I had it in me either.”
And in a rather intimate moment, he stepped up to me and gave me the softest, sweetest kiss that made me freeze.
“I can’t wait to see what else we can discover then. Together.” He said as he reached behind and grabbed the pancake with his hands. I watched him stuff half it in his mouth in a giggle.
And it was the single most cutest thing I had seen anyone do in my kitchen.
Goddamn. I was going to want to fuck him again.
“Well then. Together. Let’s see what we can do here in our secret little world together.” I heard myself say as I grabbed the dish towel from stove and wiped my brow.
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