backstreet boys

Fiction by Pen . . . . . not real, made up, purely intended for entertainment

All Things Nice

a fic_request prompt for 'spice'

His roomie was drumming an impatient tattoo on the kitchen table with a couple of forks, but looked up eagerly when AJ entered the kitchen and set his shopping down on the counter.

"I thought you'd forgotten!" Nick said, reproachfully.

"Hadda pick up a few things."

Nick looked on interestedly as AJ unpacked. The concept of purchasing actual ingredients was still pretty new to him, and since his knowledge of cooking was effectively zero, AJ's rudimentary skills and ability to interpret a recipe meant that AJ currently enjoyed god-like status in this small household. AJ was kinda sorry that this was about to change. It was cool, being admired, even if it wasn't for his hot bod. But it would also be cool, he reminded himself, to have a roommate who could produce decent meals instead of microwaved frozen crap.

Oddly, Nick was very good at cleaning. AJ had his own theories on why that might be, but since dwelling on the subject usually made him want to go out and throttle someone, he tried not to think about it and just appreciated that he didn't have to clean the toilets himself.

"Hey, what's that?" Nick looked accusingly at the object AJ was holding. "Did you make that before? I thought you were going to show me how to cook."

"This?" AJ set it on the table. "Got it in the store."

"You can buy stuff like that?" Nick looked dumbfounded. "Like, a half pie?"

"A pastry case, yeah. Lots of people don't make their own pastry," AJ explained. "'Sides, it takes too long if you mix it and roll it yourself." Nick might see AJ as a gourmet chef because he wasn't afraid to use a food mixer, but AJ knew his own limitations. The end product of his pastry-making sessions was never worth the time and effort he put into them. "This is for the weekend. I thought you could make pumpkin pie."

"Cool! So what do we make today?"

"Spiced apple cake. I marked the page." AJ nodded towards the ring-binder on the table. It contained his personal collection of recipes, mostly mom's, though his grandma and two or three cousins had made contributions too.

Nick turned eagerly to the recipe while AJ started assembling his ingredients on the counter. "Butter, demerara sugar, flour, cinnamon, apples, baking soda, allspice, eggs—what am I missing, Nick?"

"Um." Nick squinted at the food-smeared page. "That can't be right, it looks like 'claws'."

"Oh, yeah. Cloves."

"Your handwriting sucks, man. And salt. But I thought we were making dessert? Why'd you put salt in dessert?"

AJ looked at him blankly. "I don't know, Nick. You just do. Here, you get to grate the apples. Wash them first."

AJ made Nick measure everything into two pale china bowls. He looked so cute, concentrating on getting every measure exact, appraising each teaspoon of cinnamon, and carefully dividing his spoonful of allspice in half with a butter knife as AJ instructed him. He was most indignant when it came to his one eighth teaspoonful of cloves, and muttered about it not being right just to dip the spoon in and guess. Then he was outraged when AJ advised him to add a little extra cinnamon to the mixture just for luck.

"I like spice," AJ said, grinning.

"Yeah, well, who's making this cake?" From the look on his face, Nick was determined to get everything exactly right. He'd learn. AJ handed him the mixer. Nick's expression was adorable, all concentration and uncertainty. AJ couldn't figure how Nick's little pink tongue could stick out like that while he was frowning—why didn't he bite it?

Nick peered at the recipe again. "What does it mean, fold in the flour? Does it really say 'fold'? Or is that your screwy handwriting again?"

AJ scraped the mixture from the beaters and showed Nick how to fold in the flour. Nick completed the mix with meticulous care. It was quite endearing, really, he was so impressed with the instructions, so sure that cooking was some arcane and difficult art. AJ liked throwing stuff into pans and hoping for the best. He didn't often follow recipes. Mom always said they were mostly for guidance, and you could mess around with the details so long as you didn't leave out anything essential. Nick's mother, he thought, probably never baked a cake in her life.

Nick's tongue came out again as he ladled it carefully into the tin.

"Woah, man! Don't scrape it all in," AJ admonished him. Nick looked up, guiltily. "I mean, it's not wrong, but you'd be missing the best part of cooking! Go 'head, put it in the oven."

"Does it look all right?"

AJ made a show of inspecting the cake. Like he'd know if there were something wrong. "Looks good, man." So Nick put his precious mixture into the oven and set the timer, incidentally giving AJ plenty of time to ogle his very fine ass. Much, if silently, appreciated.

"Okay, gimme that bowl," AJ ordered. He slid his finger along the edge so that a thick wave of heady, spice-redolent cake mix flowed onto his finger. Sucked happily. That was good stuff!

Nick stared. "Don't you—should you do that? Don't you have to cook it?"

"Dude, if you don't want any..." AJ drawled.

Nick snatched the bowl, and poked suspiciously at the mixture, as though he thought AJ must be setting him up. Licked cautiously at the pale, spice-flecked stuff on his finger. His eyebrows went up, he made a small, approving noise, and his finger went into his mouth and came out clean. "Mmmm, o-kay." And went back for more.

AJ watched Nick's blissful expression as his mouth closed around the caked finger. His eyes half-closed. His cheeks working. His tongue. He'd only meant to introduce Nick to something that ought to have been a part of his childhood, but Nick really wasn't a kid, he was all grown up, and AJ's mind was going places it should not be going.

"You want some more?"

Nick was offering him a fingerful. Without thinking it through, AJ swooped forward and enveloped the laden finger. His eyes met Nick's as he sucked it clean, and it was like being punched in the gut, only much hotter and without the screaming pain. Nick's eyes, bright and blue and intense and, really, not innocent at all. AJ was caught. Nick's finger dipped to the bowl again, and AJ opened his mouth obediently as he felt something tracing his lower lip. Two fingers, with a smear of spicy stuff. He licked them, drew them in, worked on them. All the while, gazing up into Nick's intent stare.

Nick's fingers slipped out—AJ nipped at them—and a sweet, happy grin spread across Nick's face. "You want more?" he said, sunnily, and unzipped his pants.

AJ's mouth watered. Then Nick smeared the last fingerful of cake mix over his dick, his really very fine dick, and no power on earth could have kept AJ in his chair, he was on his knees between Nick's legs and licking and sucking like a starving man. Every scrap of the spiced goop first, and then the real deal, hot and delicious, filling his mouth, and Nick's hands stroking his face, Nick's voice high and breathy with encouragement, and the aroma of hot cinnamon apple cake in the air.

Nick sprawled back on the wooden kitchen chair. AJ knelt with his eyes closed and his mouth full of saltiness, until he felt large hands encourage him up, and he was spread across Nick's lap with Nick's hands unfastening his jeans. "You ate all the cake mix, man," Nick murmured, but it didn't really matter, because with Nick kissing him and Nick's hand wrapped around his dick, he didn't need anything else.

"I think I like cooking lessons," Nick said. And the timer pinged, and AJ was tumbled to the floor, but the cake was cooked and it was very good, and Nick was ecstatic, and they ate most of it without even waiting for it to cool. And then they went to bed, because some things were even better than spiced apple cake, and Nick, naked, was definitely one of them.


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