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Snow Dawgs

Chapter Thirteen

By Roofles

I was not expecting room service, let alone breakfast in bed.

Duncan sat next to me, the TV on as he ate away without concern for making a mess on the bed. He mentioned something about how we needed to change the sheets anyways, and not to worry about the details.

“Just enjoy the damn breakfast, for fuck sake.” Duncan grumbled and I couldn’t help but laugh at that as I watched him shovel the eggs into his face with a spoon. He seemed to have missed the class on eating etiquette growing up. At least he didn’t smother the poor eggs in ketchup as Hunter used to do.

Plus, free breakfast. I wasn’t about to complain as he placed another fluffy omelet on my plate. The pit bull wasn’t even looking at me, watching the news as he split up the tray of food somewhat evenly between us. It went unspoken that he needed more calories in the morning than I did. Most canine-Americans did, after all, compared to humans.

“They’re not’n the best I’ve had. These eggs. They need to get it fluffier, mix it with cream or milk beforehand.” Duncan poked at the omelet with his fork, a frown on his face. “I prefer mine with a bit o’ peppers and cut tomatoes. Full breakfast in an omelette. Maybe with some beans, England style. Cook ‘em first, tho, like you don’t want to eat that shit raw.” He continued. “Can add onions if ya’ want. We can’t exactly have normal onions, like’n you humans can.” Duncan’s nose twitched at this, and he looked towards the other side of the room. Taking note of my preferences and tastes maybe? “So, we use these, like, scallops things instead.”

“Scallions.” I corrected, taking another bite. The meal tasted perfectly fine to me. Our palettes must be different. I’ve heard canine-Americans don’t have as strong as taste as we do, relying more on texture and smell instead.

“Right, right. Scallops are the things otters n’ seafolk like.” Duncan nodded, focusing intently both on the conversation and the food itself. It was kind of funny seeing as how we were both sitting naked, next to each other, in bed after getting the morning breakfast brought up to us after what we’ve done.

I could still feel the stickiness in places on the bedding. No wonder why he wanted to change the bedding. It’d be hard enough to hide things as it was.

We decided it would be best not to eat with the others for now. Trying to keep this secret between us as long as possible. It wouldn’t take long for the others to figure it out. Not with their noses, but neither of us wanted to deal with that on such a nice morning as this had been.

It was just needless drama from nosy canines… we both knew exactly why we wanted to hide it. It wasn’t so much for the others, as it was from our exes. Hunter and Junkyard probably spent the night together as we had. It left a bitter taste in the back of my mouth I washed away with a glass of OJ.

“You can try other stuff. Condiments n’ the like.” Duncan went on, talking intently about the food as he poked it some more with his fork as if to check to see if it were alive or not. Distracting himself. That was what Duncan was doing.

The pit bull was distracting himself as much as I was. Not just with sex this morning, not just with breakfast… but from it all. Whatever came up, like the news, not to think about it. Think about how, the morning after, you have to wake up and deal with things.

I doubted he regret this. Us. The way his bare foot paw was touching me. He was practically petting my foot with his own. It would move up and I could feel those rough paw padded toes touch my hairy leg. Petting it, or rather, touching me. The pit bull needed this.

He was sitting so close to me that our thighs were touching. Close enough that I could feel the heat from his body making me sweat slightly. Needing to touch me. To know that someone was there the day after. I needed it as much as he did. That was why the two of us didn’t mention it or bring it up, instead talking about something stupid and inconsequential as eggs.

“Duncan?” I asked and I saw one of his floppy ears lift up in response. It was enough to tell me he was listening. “What do you do for a living?” I hadn’t asked him that. In fact, I hadn’t asked Duncan a whole lot about himself.

If we were pseudo dating, I think it would be best to know. That and… And, and I kind of wanted to know? I wasn’t sure why it was so embarrassing, though, to ask something so simple. What do you do for a living? It was harder to get off my tongue than anything else I’d really asked of him.

Asking to suck him off, eat his ass? No problem! Asking him who he was? What he liked? Did this pit bull have any allergies? His likes and dislikes?

That… that was so hard to ask that I felt the warmth creep back to my face.

“Huh? Oh, I’m a line cook at Le Blanc. It’s a Americanized French restaurant, that mostly caters to the students. Ya’ know, the ones near campus. We don’t make nothing too fancy like. My head chef is really particular, tho, about cooking temps and such and…” Duncan lifted his fork up from the omelet and his frown increased. “This ain’t no sunny side up egg, why it running like that?” The pit bull grumbled.

Huh, maybe he cared more about the cooking than I thought. Maybe it was just me feeling nervous about all this. Then his ear twitched and Duncan glanced over at me, looking at me for a full three seconds before tearing his eyes away.

Okay, he was just as nervous about this as I was.

“I think it’s to flavor the rest of the bland food?” I offered with a single shoulder shrug, more to keep the conversation up than because I knew the answer to the question.

“This is shite.” Duncan took the food away as he spat to the side. Even going so far as to take the fork from my hand. As rude as it was, I found it more amusing than anything else as he quickly put breakfast to the side and got up. He was getting dress as he continued. “I’ll treat you to something nice. You deserve a good breakfast. After our first, official, night together,” he added under his breath. I could see the inner parts of his floppy ears grow darker in color. A deep maroon that looked almost like they were bruised. “Something good to stuff into your mouth!” He grinned at me.

“Your ass doesn’t count?” I couldn’t help myself, a smile tugging on my lips at the embarrassed look that crossed over Duncan’s face. The pit bull grumbled, refusing to make eye contact as he kicked something on the ground. He huffed and puffed, sticking out his chest and throwing his shoulders back looking as if he were going to get into a fight…

“Can’t live off that…” Duncan muttered and I, really, should learn to shut up seeing him get worked up like this.

“Can’t I?” I even gave him a wink and the pit bull turned away from me, giving me a good view of his rear end as he bent over to pull up his underwear and pants. I think he did that on purpose, taking longer than he needed to dress. It gave me a good view and, hey, I was getting breakfast and a show! I wasn’t about to complain. “What do you need me to do?” I asked instead.

“Get dressed.” He ordered and I obeyed. For a second, Duncan looked surprised I was so readily going along with this. I did tease him a lot, needlessly putting up a fight at times to get him worked up and giving him a hard time.

I don’t think he was expecting me to go along with his madness. Surely he came up with this idea on the spot. Wanting to do something with me and unable to think of anything else.

“What next?” I asked, halfway dressed. Curious to see where this will go. How far and to what lengths Duncan was willing to play up our little charade.

It was his idea to stay in this morning and now here he was wanting to go out together.

“As I said. I’ll treat ya’ to something nice.” Duncan smile widened, tail wagging as he let a good thought sink in. He was hesitant, still walking on eggshells, but was… happy? I think that was the case as he reached out, tentatively, for my hand. When I didn’t pull away, he quickly took it. Grabbing hold of my hand before I could change my mind.

And his smile only grew at that.

Hand in paw, we walked out of the room.

“I got the keycard, so like, uh, if you need to get back in the room… our room,” Duncan swallowed nervously, refusing once more to look at me. I could feel his palms growing sweaty. Not that I minded much. It was cute, seeing a big burly guy like him like this. “Just ask me, alright? I’ll make sure to let you in. O-or if you need anything else. Just ask me…”

“Can I get my own card?” I asked and his muzzle twitched, shaking his whiskers.

“I-if that would make you more comfortable…” Duncan gave a weak nod, and I decided to give the guy a break from the teasing.

“Well, as long as you stick around just in case, I don’t see an issue with it.” I made a show of thinking about it, instead of just playing along with the pit bull. He perked up hearing that. “So, stick close. Just in case,” I added with another playful wink and a crooked smile as I tilted my head next to his.

I wasn’t expecting it, but Duncan pushed his forehead against mine. It hurt, slightly, as he did so. Bumping his head against mine before easing up.

“Sure.” Duncan beamed at the idea. The pit bull looked so happy hearing that, I wasn’t about to burst his bubble any further. I could tease the hell out of him whenever I want to. Uh, during this vacation I mean.

With a strong tug, he pulled me along down the hallway. Only slowing down when he noticed me lagging behind his heavy plodding steps. He was so eager to do this that Duncan had been half-running down the hallway. It was a bit tricky to keep up with the guy.

I needed a cup or four of coffee before I had that kind of energy.

“What do you like?” Duncan asked and I gave him a look as he slowed down to walk at my side. “Like, breakfast wise.” And here I thought we were trying to be subtle about this as we walked down the stairwell hand in paw.

His thumb rubbed over the back of my hand, his fingers giving mine a strong squeeze. His paw pads were rough but squishy and I pushed my thumb against the center of his palm. He squeezed my hand tighter, grinning ear to ear at me as he waited for my answer as his tail wagged.

This was so dumb.

We were all over the place!

We were up and down, left and right, hot and cold. Teasing each other one second, angry the next and finishing up with a kiss. It was crazy and wild and fun. Even if the other dogs saw us, would that be a bad thing? I’m not sure. I don’t think Duncan even realized it as he pulled me towards the kitchen, using one of the side hallways to get around the main dining room I was sure the others were finishing up breakfast in.

We could hear their voices drifting down the hall. Duncan’s ears perked up at that, as if recalling we weren’t here together on vacation but had gone with the entire group. He quickened his pace, and I did my best to keep up, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Are we allowed back here?” I asked, instead. Glancing to the side. I think I saw a couple of the other dogs in the dining room still, enjoying breakfast. We had slipped past them while they were distracted eating. They’d all been so focus on who got the last of the bacon that they hardly missed or noticed our absence.

In a way, it had been smart. I doubt Duncan had thought of that though seeing the happy go lucky look on his face.

“I already asked!” Duncan was beaming like the morning sun, tail wagging. “I double checked to make sure it would be okay if I made food for us…” Duncan hesitated. He didn’t need to say it, I already knew he meant for him and Junkyard.

Duncan had planned to make Junkyard breakfast or dinner as a surprise. Instead, I was the one that was going to enjoy his cooking. Junkyard’s loss was my gain and, being pulled into the kitchen, I pushed Duncan up next to the wall.

“Wha-,?” He asked. I answered with a kiss.

“I’m looking forward to eating your food, Duncan.” I said with as much meaning and care as I could fill my words with before my morning coffee. I pet him. Over his chest, down his side and then up underneath that tight form fitting shirt he had on. It hid nothing and I loved seeing him in it.

Duncan’s eyes widened slightly, ears perking up as he just sort of… stared at me. It was that look a deer has when a bright pair of headlights are turned on in front of them. I brushed one of his nipples before stepping back, giving him some breathing room.

“I’m starving. I wasn’t about to finish my second breakfast today,” I let it sink in. “Though, I did enjoy the first.” And his ears darkened again.

Duncan blinked. Then he blinked again, shaking his head and nodded.

“I’ll make sure to feed ya’ all week then.” Duncan hesitated, his words starting slow before picking up. “You better look forward to it!” He growled aggressively, getting worked up. Not in an angry way, more in an excited way. Eager to prove his worth, or maybe just to show off.

Knowing what I did about Duncan, it was most likely to show off.

“As long as I can enjoy your cooking and company, I could ask for nothing more.” I might’ve been playing it up a little, but a part of me did feel that. His hand laced around my side, resting in the crook of my back as he kissed me again.

He pulled me closer, my feet moving on their own as his chest slammed against mine. It was strong, Duncan was strong and firm as my hands with to one of his arms and the other against his chest. Soft. Warm. Strong. That was the kind of guy Duncan was. His head tilted to the side, taking a second longer than needed before he pressed his thinner dark lips against mine.

Long and deep his lips pushed against mine. I could taste his tongue. I swallowed his drool. His breath filled my longs and… we would’ve probably done it right there if someone didn’t speak up. Embraced like that until someone cleared their throat and the two of us, lips pressed against each other, looked over to see one of the actual cooks here watching the entire thing.

“Can I help you?” The reindeer asked and Duncan quickly explained why we were here and that he had already set things up with the owner. The pit bull rushed his speech, holding onto me the entire time. He didn’t let go and I didn’t want him to. “Well, I was just finishing up breakfast.” The man said, looking around the kitchen.

“Let us use the kitchen and we’ll clean up after.” I thought of the idea as I was saying it. A lot of people loved to cook. I was sure a chef felt the same. No one, though, liked to clean up afterwards! Offering to clean up the mess took a much-needed weight of stress from the guy and, before he could refuse, I added on. “Duncan’s worked in a kitchen before, or, uh, still does! He’ll make sure we get it sparkling clean before we go, chef… sir!” I tried my best and still managed to put my foot in my mouth.

Duncan’s ear twitched at this. It was clear the pit bull didn’t want to spend our time cleaning up. It might’ve been our vacation, but it didn’t mean we had to be assholes about it. Just because this was our relaxing trip from work, it didn’t mean we could just be entitled Karens about it all. I would clean up after my mess.

I… I didn’t want to be like Hunter or Junkyard. I wanted us to have fun together, be respectful of others and not leave a mess behind after. Just assuming that the staff will clean it up. I might’ve been thinking about more than just a couple plates, however.

Before this trip ended, I needed to sit down and talk to some of the other guys. Hunter included. I didn’t want to leave that mess behind for someone else to clean up.

“It’ll be fun.” I nudged Duncan with my elbow. “We’ll do it together, then go check out the jacuzzi out back.” I added with a sly smirk and the idea of continuing our fun made the pit bull quickly agree.

“It’ll be so clean ya’ could eat off the floor!” Duncan said and the reindeer begrudgingly agreed at this point, most likely needing to step out back for a smoke break before the lunch rush hit.

“You came in after I was gone. You hear?” The chef pointed at Duncan, focusing the blame onto the pit bull if anything goes wrong.

“Scouts honor.” Duncan did some strange dog salute I assumed he got from canine scouts. “Thank ya’ kindly.” He added on with a big grin, showing his teeth. It was more threatening than it was reassuring but the reindeer just rolled his eyes and stepped out the back door that read “Staff only.”

“Now then. What are you going to make me.” I asked and Duncan eyes gleamed wickedly at that. He let me go, stepping in front of me and gave me that once over again. He kind of looked like an old coach I had during my basketball years. Giving me an evaluation on the spot to see what I needed to work and improve on.

“A proper omelet!” He declared and we ended up making such a mess.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t tease Duncan the entire time. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if the pit bull didn’t feel the need to show off the entire time he was preparing our meal. Yet I did, and yet he did. The two of us were just being dorks together, laughing about it the entire time as we dropped eggs, spilled sugar or maybe it was salt. We ended up dropping the first omelet onto the counter… when I pulled the plate away at the last second as Duncan was sliding it off the skillet.

The look on his face was priceless.

“You’re eating that.” He only said, going back to work. I cleaned up the mess before making another elsewhere.

The entire time, Duncan was smiling. He was grinning like a love-struck fool, and I might’ve been doing the same. We didn’t really argue, not in the way you see some couples do. It was that teasing nitpicking that you see couples that were really close, and comfortable, with do. From the outside looking in? You might think we were fighting.

But I could tell. Tell that Duncan was enjoying every second of this as I sponged off the counter, only for him to flick a paw full of flour back onto it. He got the sponge thrown at his face for that. Duncan was faster than he looked, and he ducked underneath it. We both cringed as the wet polyester sponge hit the wall with a sickening splat, sliding down it and made an even bigger mess than before.

“You clean that up.” Duncan said. “You threw it!”

“You weren’t supposed to dodge!” I countered with and he looked aghast, as if I had just insulted his mother.

“Was I supposed to NOT dodge it?”

“You usually don’t mind when I slap you in the face with something wet and sticky.” I winked and he let out a heavy snort.

“Slap you in the face with something wet and sticky.” Duncan growled, getting up in my face.

“Promise?” And he smirked, giving me a kiss before moving back over to the burning onions. “I don’t think they’re supposed to look like that.” I added, side stepping to clean up the knocked over bowl of dry ingredients Duncan had accidentally elbowed.

“It adds flavor!” He yelled back. “And coloring…” He frowned at the horrible mess in the skillet. He had either bumped the heat up when he came over or should’ve been paying far closer attention. Maybe both. Either way, I still laughed at his blunder. “You get these.” Duncan said while sliding the burnt crispy bits onto my plate.

“Hey! No! You burn it, you eat it.” I got on him for that. “Don’t make me rub your nose in it.”

“I don’t see you cooking.” He glared back, daring me. I gladly took the dare. Grabbing a nearby apron, I put it on backwards and walked over. Rolling up the sleeves I wasn’t wearing, I even added a chef hat to complete the look. Backwards, of course, because that really made Duncan’s eye twitch.

Seeing me wearing everything backwards or improperly in what he called “his kitchen.” Something about how he was cooking here so it was now his kitchen until we left. I had rolled my eyes at that, but if he wanted to play that game? Two of us could.

“My turn!” I looked at the mess before me, unsure where to even start. I recognized the eggs… and maybe the butter. I think that was butter. It was very fancy looking butter.

“You look like an idiot.” Duncan snorted and flour filled the air between us. With a meaty hand, he waved the substance away so we could see each other. He looked like he needed another shower, and I doubted I faired much better.

We might’ve started making eggs, now? Now I wasn’t even sure what the hell we were creating! There was something bubbling on the stove. I think it was supposed to be some kind of sauce that had been reduced so much it had burned, turning into an unsettling purple tinted color.

“It gives me a cooking bonus though.” I didn’t miss a beat with my reply, grabbing the mixing bowl and emptying out what Duncan had been working on in the sink.

“Hey!” He snapped and I didn’t even bother rinsing it out before dumping a heap of flour into the thing. “I was using that.” I think it was confectionary sugar, oops, but I had already done the deed and would take this crime against cooking to the grave with me!

“Now I am using it.” I stuck a tongue out as I whisked the sugar pointlessly. “You were ruining my masterpiece.”

“Your masterpiece?” He said dumbfounded by my claim, nearly taking a step back as his eyes widened even further and his mouth hung open slightly.

“I am going to make the biggest, bestest, most French dish possible!” I was looking through the different spices. Winging it as I went. Duncan quickly came over to fix the mistake I was about to make, grabbing cardamom instead of cinnamon. That would’ve been bad. They both looked the same to me.

Quickly, he set the mixing bowl I was holding to the side and put another into my hand. He might’ve been grumbling the entire time, but he looked very professional as he fixed my mistake. Putting a bowl in my arms, cracking a couple of eggs, mixing it some salt (I think) and then went over to the fridge to grab some very thick-looking milk I later found out to be heavy cream.

“Look, I get it. You feel threatened by my talents,” Duncan nodded at this as if understanding that being around such an amazing person like the pit bull was must’ve made me feel inferior somehow. I wanted to flick him on the forehead for that. “Don’t compare yourself to me. My raw talents are unmatched in this field.”

“At burning things.” I noted, glancing over to the several burnt pots soaking in the sink. At some point we had turned the water on, filled the sink up with dish soap and just tossed our ruined creations into it. I was glad this kitchen had so many sinks, feeling we were going to need all of them at this rate.

“At burning things.” He nodded and I couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that, he wasn’t even angry about his mistake. Or maybe it was my mistake, and Duncan was covering for me. He did spend most the morning fixing my horrible disaster I tried to create, putting out the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) fires I had started.

“Only thing raw about you,” I added giving his front a grope. “Is this.” Fuck he was big. He was wearing this man-jeans and his bulge in the front took my entire hand to grab hold of; and I don’t think I was able to get all of it with just one hand!

“My eggplants!” Duncan yipped and swatted my hand away with a spatula.

“I needed sausage for our breakfast.” I grinned and he rolled his eyes as I moved away.

“Give you a sausage…” He grumbled, stepping in close behind me and going back to a semi-professional mode. “Alright, let’s do something simple and try to salvage this… whatever this was you were trying to make.” I didn’t mind as he stepped closer. Closing in on my personal space and filling it with his own.

He was taller than I was, larger than I am. He had to look down to talk to me. Duncan’s shoulders were wider, and he had such a build that I should’ve felt my masculinity questioned being next to him. I didn’t. I wasn’t sure how, but Duncan made me feel right at home as we went over the steps.

“We’ll do something simple. French toast. I know it’s not actually French but tell my dumbass boss that.” Duncan began to complain. Complain about his job to me. Opening up in front of me like this as he talked about it. “I swear it was his wife that wanted to do a French restaurant. The entire place looks like it was plucked out of fricking Pari,” he said mockingly instead of Paris, adding a terrible French accent to it. “My boss? Hah! Like he could cook actual, authentic French food. Unfortunately, I didn’t find that out until after I had gotten hired. Everything we make is an Americanized version of what he thinks is French food…” And Duncan didn’t stop, changing from bitching and complaining to teaching. “Grab the whisk like this, tilt the bowl at this angle and…”

His front was pressed against my back. His arms were around me, ghosting me. I see now how Demi Moore felt in that old movie as Duncan helped guide me through the steps one after another. He was far better than I gave him credit for. Measuring things out by sight alone as we mixed a bunch of different dry things together in one bowl, whisked other wet things in a different bowl and then folded them in with each other.

“I thought we were making French toast.” Even I knew how to make that!

“Nah, that’s too boring.” I had to laugh at that as Duncan changed things up. I spied the other bowl sitting nearby with freshly chopped strawberries next to it. Most likely our back up, back up breakfast in case whatever we were creating now didn’t pan out.

“We call this a meringue,” his muscles flexed next to my face, and I didn’t mind the gun show as he held the hand mixer as it turned. It had to take nearly ten minutes to get the egg whites to form into “stiff peaks.” Duncan added a couple of things to it. Something called cream of tartar and sugar to help “Stabilize” the concoction.

It looked and smelled delicious; I couldn’t lie. I always loved the smell of French vanilla.

“I like to add a little dash more of the stuff. Not too much! A tsp is plenty most the time,” the pit bull said making to set the vanilla extract far away from my reach. The action forced his chest further against the back of my head and I felt warmth seep back into my face. “When you make the egg whites like this, it gives it a far fluffier texture.” Duncan explained as we folded the whipped egg whites into the yolks. Only part of it at a time. Well, to be honest, it was more Duncan cooking at this point. Not that I mind. Crushed between his pecs and trapped between his arms was rather arousing. “Doing it like this, you can get a far more Japanese style pancake. It’s basically a wannabe souffle,” Duncan barked a laugh as if it were some kind of inside joke.

“I thought you did French cooking?” I would ask or add on to keep the conversation going. Just enough to let Duncan settle into a comfortable state of control. He did like that. Being the one to lead the way. If we ever danced, I knew he would be the one leading me. Not that I minded, being versatile I was good at a lot of different things. From both sides.

“I do all cooking, Douglas. It’s cooking.” Duncan frowned down at me as if I had something stupid. He said he worked in a semi-French restaurant! It’s not my fault to assume he primarily cooked French cuisines.

“You some kind of expert now?” I teased and Duncan snorted in my face. I felt it against my bangs and had to close my eyes. When I opened them, he was staring down into them, somewhat frowning. Somewhat smiling.

I think, if he could, he’d have put the apron he was wearing over me and tie us together. That might’ve been a different kind of disaster in the making. I still would’ve enjoyed it.

“I’m not one of those Furrytubers that watch videos all day and then think they’re a master chef. I practice. I read. I practice. I do research and, above all else, I practice.” He said helping me pour the batter into a piper, a plastic bag with a metal tip at the end to squeeze out controlled amounts. “I make mistakes and learn from them. That’s how you learn. Mistakes are good. Helps ya’ learn the right temps, the right cooking methods, if you over whisked it. Can’t rush it. Tis’ nice.”

And it was nice seeing Duncan like this. In his element. He was calm, collected and, above all, didn’t feel the need to rush. He stopped showing off as much and because of that there was far less of a mess for us to clean up as he finished things out.

Piping the mixture out onto the sizzling commercial size oven top and covering each one with a small metal bowl. He added a bit of water next to each before covering them, planning to steam them I guess? He was focusing intently on this step and I let him do it.

I tried to remove myself from between his arms but got a loud snarling growl for my efforts. Duncan quickly pulling me back in. He flexed his biceps at my sides and continued to work without a word. I was trapped between a rock and a hard place; the names I would thus call Duncan’s left and right bicep. A heavy-set frown had fallen over his face as he concentrated, the tip of his bright pink tongue sticking out between his lips. Not even minding the fact that he had spun me around like a top and hugged my face against his chest.

He smelled of flour, sugar, vanilla and man. And it was a smell I hope to never forget.

“Hey,” I said, and he stopped a second to look down at me. “Maybe if I,” I pulled on his apron and he looked down at it, confused. “If you, put this over me, then when you work, I – I’ll be tied to you.” I felt a surge of warmth to my face as I saw the realization dawn on his face. “Knotted. To you.” Why was I having so much trouble saying innuendos right now?

Shut up, shut up, shut up. I kept saying in my head. The pit bull, hopefully, hadn’t heard me corrected. I wanted to be tied to him? Knotted to him? Who says that outside the bedroom? Like, the fuck.

“Sure.” He said and I think my brain stopped.

Letting me go, Duncan undid his apron. I wasn’t sure if he’d actually try this, I had seen it in silly rom coms or even a few clips online. I never thought I’d actually try something as stupid as this, but sure enough. Duncan lifted the front of his apron, stepped closer and put it over me. He didn’t need to remove his shirt, but he did anyways. He draped the apron over my head and down my back, tying it around his waist again before carefully stepping back over to the counter to continue his work.

This was so dumb.

Why was my heart pounding so loud? Oh, wait… that was Duncan. His heart was pounding so loud against my face as I pushed my nose against his pecs. I closed my eyes, feeling it thumb against me as I tried to keep the warmth from taking me. I felt hot. I was sweating, or maybe that was Duncan. He was holding me with one hand, only now working with one hand…

I was only a distraction, getting in his way. Yet, I didn’t want him to let me go.

This was so dumb. I was so stupid. Why did I feel like some dumb teenage girl as he held me like this. I grabbed at him, holding him tightly. His body stiffened at my touch. He took a heavy breath, and I felt his chest rise against me, pushing against my face and I felt my dick twitch in response. He held it, that breath, before letting it out slowly trying to calm the rushing blood.

I felt his bulge twitched. How did I feel it? Well, because I was currently groping the hell out of Duncan and the pit bull, to his credit, was doing everything he could not to toss me up on the counter and treat me like his mixing bowl. Shove his whisk in and take me for a spin.

Okay, cooking metaphors don’t really do it for me.

“Fuck,” I bit my lip trying to keep quiet. Or maybe they did? No, wait, that was his cock. That was what was doing it to me. I felt it. Felt his dick emerge from the front of his sheath, trapping within his jeans. I played with the front button, and I heard him suck in another breath of air feeling what I was doing.

I was cock hungry and Duncan could smell it in the air.

The button easily popped open, already straining against the girth of the pit bull. The zipper undid itself and my hand slipped inside to feel him. I was greedy, I was horny, I wanted to feel him. Touch him. It was hot. Fuck, Duncan felt so warm against the palm of my hand. He was still holding me with an arm, and I didn’t want him to let go. I don’t think he wanted me to, as I fondled him.

Just enough. Just enough to feel the curves of his emerging dick, at the sticky wet spot forming on the top. Along the underside and down to where it met the opening of his sheath. I teased that with a finger, feeling it through the fabric. Duncan began breathing heavily, in front of me and I rested my forehead against his chest.

It was calming. Listening to him breathe as I fondled and played with his junk like this. Dipping down enough to feel his fat hanging orbs.

“Are you sweating?” I asked softly. My voice sounded far huskier than I thought it would. I was worked up. I wanted him to knot me. Tie me. Knot me here, in this kitchen. Tie me to his body and continue to work. To make our breakfast as he pumped his sweet puppy batter deep inside me.

“Does it bother you…?” Duncan swallowed nervously.

“I like it…” I admitted. And I did. He was such a man. So real. His muscles, his body, I wanted to bask in his body. He smelled. Smelled of sweet things, of manly aromas and of Duncan. He smelled like Duncan and I wanted to eat him all up as I kissed at his chest, licking over one of his nipples.

He let out a guttural groan at that. A sound that he tried to keep sealed away as he closed his muzzle. I knew it made his lips vibrate as he growled it out. Unable to contain it. I liked that about Duncan. I loved how much he reacted to me. A touch? A feel? A lick? All of it did something to him.

He wanted to be worshipped, and I wanted to worship him.

“I am,” he said only after I answered. “The kitchen gets hot… I’m covered in fur. There… your against me,” his arm tightened around me. As if it were a threat. That he wouldn’t let go. “And your… your…”

“Loving on your body?” I asked, pulling my lips from his body to catch my breath. The air smelled of his musk and I loved it.

“Appreciating it, I was going to say.” Duncan snorted out and I was sure he was smiling. “I work really hard to get this body.”

“I’m sure your genetics helped,” I teased as I thumbed at the opening of his briefs. He shifted his bulky weight, opening his legs a little more. I took it as an a-okay to pull them down. I did. I pulled his briefs down just enough to pull out his junk. Not enough to take his clothes off.

I won’t lie. Duncan dressed up? Having his pants on when I went down on him in the closet? Now in the kitchen with his fly open? I was into that. I liked that. I like a man dressed up. I wanted to see Duncan with a toolbelt and boots on, nothing else. I wanted the man to come in uniform with the front ripped open.

I loved that. His body, dressed up. Wanting to unwrap the package that he delivered to me.

Duncan was a big guy. He was a big dog everywhere and one hand wasn’t enough to fully appreciate his body. I still only used one, afraid if I moved my other hand down from his chest I would be soon to follow. Getting on my knees here for him in this kitchen.

Being on my knees before this big dog of a man and let him do whatever he wants to me. Please him. Lick him. Taste him. I would shove my nose anywhere on his body and inhale his scent, sweaty or not. And I think he knew that with how much he was leaking.

Duncan was waiting for me to act, to move. The pit bull would lift up his arms and stand there, perfectly still, if I asked him to. I might have to try that sometime. Right now, I was too distracted by the hanging forbidden fruit between his legs.

His sack was heavy. Actually heavy. It was kind of insane as I played with his balls, rolling them around with my one hand. I felt the weight of each orb against my fingers, resting in the palm of my hand as his slightly sweaty, furred flesh was teased and played with by my fingers. I loved tugging on it. Duncan was a low hanger, and I wanted to taste his grapes.

He grunted above me, and I watched a bit more of his tip spill out of the top of his sheath. Duncan was trying to keep himself in check and I was not helping matters. The pit bull must’ve been trying to think about anything other than this. Me here, under his apron, playing with his junk.

If someone walked in, they’d totally see what we were doing.

He didn’t tell me to stop, so I didn’t.

“Genetics help.” Duncan cleared his throat, needing a moment before he continued. He had lifted one of his legs up slightly and my hand greedily slid down next to the inner part of his thigh where the fur lessoned. It was sweaty and hot and I, for reasons I can’t even say, sniffed my fingers after withdrawing them.

They smelled of Duncan.

“Genetics help but I made sure to have a rigid, strict work out routine… on top of working.” Duncan voice growled at the end, and I assume he was thinking of Junkyard. I gave one of his nuts a soft tug and that snapped him out of his funk. “I was the one who… who helped him lose the weight. Did I mention that? Got him on the same routine I did…” Duncan huffed. He panted, yet he still continued to talk.

“Junkyard, right. Right… your junk is really nice.” I blatantly said, needing to change the subject away from that. Duncan snorted a laugh.

“Subtle, Douglas. I’ve known since the start how much you love ogling and drooling over my junk.” Duncan said this, yet his tail wagged, and I knew he appreciated that. Hell, why else would you work out as much as Duncan did if you didn’t want someone to take note of the progress you’ve made?

I was about to continue, about to go down on Duncan. To get on my knees or maybe try and just crouch down. Maybe if I ducked under the counter top, someone wouldn’t notice Duncan’s front was open and his junk had spilled out over my face.

Instead, I was an idiot.

“…Did Junkyard not appreciate your work?” Why was I asking that? I wanted to fondle him, tease him, get on my knees and please this man’s body until he sprayed his heavy cream all over my face. Instead, I was bringing up the stuff we both had, without words, agreed not to talk about.

Good job, Douglas. Within the first day mock-dating the guy, you bring up his ex.

“I…” Duncan said, and I stopped what I was doing. Just resting against him. I was sure I had killed the mood at this point. “Could you…” He took a second. “Keep going?” He asked in an almost whimper of a voice. I started up again, fondling his sack and touching him. Fuck, Duncan loved to be touched. It eased his body. His tense muscles relaxed. I think me listening to him also did something to him, as he was now leaking over my wrist. It wasn’t as sweet as what he was cooking, but the bitter musky flavor was still nice as I went back to stroking him off. “He didn’t… I mean, he did. Sexually… like my body. He loved to do stuff, sure. At first. He didn’t want to, to touch me after the night. Out in the open? Around other dogs? It would be easy to assume that the two of us weren’t together. With the way he acted around me…”

“I see…” I rested my forehead against his chest, again, looking down at his junk. It was kind of like a stress ball. It helped calm down my own storm of emotions inside. It also helped Duncan… talk. To open up. Who’d know if you just fondle the guy he’d spill himself out. “Hunter was the same way. In a lot of ways. He wanted people to know he wasn’t single… but he didn’t want to act like he wasn’t. I just… didn’t see the point, in the end, to stay with him. Not after it all.”

Duncan and I might’ve been pretending, but being with Hunter WAS pretending. Pretending to be a happy couple, instead of just roommates. Pretending in front of our friends and family. To make sure everyone knows we were taken, instead of just friends. That’s all we really were, in the end. Friends with benefits. I’m not sure where in our relationship when it happened, but by the end “That’s what we were. Friends with benefits. Until we were just friends.”

“Hah!” Duncan barked a laugh. I’d have been insulted if he didn’t push against me further, pressing me up against the counter behind him. He let go of me, using his body to keep me there, as he began taking the food off the burners carefully with both hands. “I wasn’t even to the point of getting benefits.” He growled softly. “Just a friend… if I was even that to him. Instead of just a simp willing to give him whatever he needed to get by… so that I could think I had someone there, with me.”

My heartstrings tugged hearing that. I never doubted, if even for a second, that Hunter and I were friends. Good friends! Just not… boyfriends. Funny how many different levels of friends you can be with someone. From those who get benefits, to those you treat as family… to those you might one day marry.

“I hope I can be friends with benefits, for you…” I struggled to say the words. Feeling them as much as I was saying them. It made my face feel warm and his arm went around me again, moving us slowly to the side before stopping there in the kitchen.

“Boyfriends.” Duncan suddenly corrected. “You are my… boyfriend. During this trip.” He tacked on before shaking his head. “You will… I will… boyfriends. We are. That. During this.” He said and I gave his dick a good stroke for that. “Love it when you do that.” He said the words in a low growl. “I love it when you touch me…” I knew his toes were curling. That was the same sultry voice he had right before he blew.

A part of me wanted that. To keep stroking him until he did. Blow his fat load all over my front. Cover me. Mark me. Scent me with his body.

He shuddered above me, shivers running down his arms and legs as my fingers continued to carefully trace and stroke over him. I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I was damn good at giving a hand job. He must’ve felt like jelly from that. It wasn’t just the touch. It was the pressure you use, applying it the right places, sometimes it takes time to find that sweet spot. Duncan was easy. His entire cock was sensitive and, fuck, I loved playing with it. Feeling him. Even if he wasn’t about to blow, I would love to hold it. Touch him. Feel his warmth in my hand, and he had to take another heavy breath to stabilize himself. I rather not have a man Duncan’s size falling on top of me because I made his knees give out.

My fingers hesitated, a first, to continue. I wanted to keep stroking him off. Say something dumb, like I wanted him to add his special ingredient to our dish. Instead, I found myself letting him go. Duncan picked up on this and quickly took advantage of not being jerked off in the middle of a kitchen.

“Let me get the plates ready…” Duncan changed the subject and I, sadly, put away his cock. Pulling up his briefs and even helping him do his pants before he let me out from underneath the apron.

Duncan caught my shoulder with a hand and looked at me. There were so many thoughts coursing behind those eyes, I wasn’t sure what all Duncan was feeling. Maybe he was upset I hadn’t finished him off? I mean, I did love teasing him. Building him up. Making his nuts hang even lower before getting him off.

Duncan must’ve had the same thought as he said something else, instead. We both knew I’d get him off, again, later tonight without being asked.

“Douglas.” He said, swallowing, gripping my shoulder. “I…”

“I…” I needed to start this. It was difficult enough to semi-jerk a guy off and then have this kind of talk. “Okay.” I dumbly added on. “Okay, Duncan. My boyfriend.” I wanted to roll my eyes at such a claim but kept them in check. I needed to be serious and, that scared me. “I do need to... to talk to Hunter before we leave the lodge. As I’m sure you need to talk to Junkyard.” His face fell hearing my words. “We can. We are.” I corrected. “We are still together. During this.” Each other’s support system after such messy breakups. “We need to talk to them, get this all out in the open. Air things out, so that we can move on. After this.” I needed Duncan here.

Fuck, I needed someone. I needed someone here for me as I dealt with the aftermath of all this. It wasn’t an explosion of a breakup as Duncan’s had been, no. But the echoing effect of it was beginning to get to me and I wanted… I needed Duncan to be here for me through it.

As selfish and fucked up as that sounded. I wanted Duncan to be my friend with benefits, so I wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

“Move on…” Duncan focused on what I had said, and his eyes shifted away, quickly looking back and forth before stopping abruptly on my face. “Douglas…” He said, fingers tightened on my shoulder as if he were trying to give me some kind of death grip. “I…” He couldn’t finish so I tried to throw him a lifeline.

“Duncan,” I said, placing my hand on top of his. He eased up and I was thankful for that. “There is no way in hell that I’ll ever end up back together with Hunter. Now or ever, alright? We were terrible together,” I laughed. It was a very sad, pitiful sound to be honest. It hurt to laugh about that. Our relationship, being such a joke. “There is no way… I would ever leave you, for him.” I said truthfully.

I didn’t know what the future held. I could’ve so easily ended up with Auto or Buddy if I had taken a different route. Instead, I was here with Duncan. In this kitchen. With his junk smell all over my fingers. And I would follow this path, wherever it leads. Be it heartache, again, or something more?

I had chosen Duncan.

Duncan stared at me. Trying to read the thoughts going on behind my eyes. Trying to see if I was telling the truth or holding something else back from him. I wasn’t and I think he could see that as he finally let me go.

“Right. Duh, of course. Like you’d ever leave this body.” Duncan motioned down at himself with very little confidence. After all, Junkyard had left that body.

Snagging his wrist, I held it until he looked at me.

“Duncan,” I stepped closer. “I need to talk to my ex about this shit. Just as I’m sure you want to talk to yours,” I added, and he looked like he wanted to punch Junkyard more than he wanted to talk to the Doberman. Duncan had a very different way of handling emotions, and I was thankful those feelings weren’t directed at me. “That doesn’t mean,” I turned his hand over, still looking at him as I brought it up to kiss his knuckles.

Knuckles that were still somewhat raw and sore after punching trees.

“That doesn’t mean I’d leave you behind.” I said and Duncan took a second on that. His ears folding back, eyes averting from my own as he thought that over. The tension began to bleed out of his shoulders, and he looked like a smaller man as he answered.

“Fine.” He suddenly said with far more bravado than I gave him credit for. “As long as I can be there.” He needlessly added a stipulation to our agreement that nearly floored me.

“W-what? Excuse me! What do you mean you want to be there? Why would you want to be there?” I tried not to shout. “I don’t even want to be there!” My voice cracked and I covered my mouth, looking away from him.

Fuck. I hadn’t let another man see me cry since childhood.

“Exactly.” Duncan said and that took me a second to understand. “You don’t want to be there,” he scratched at this thick neck, turning away from me. I was sure he was blushing again. “You need me… you need me to be there for you.” To help you through it. He didn’t say those words, but I knew, now, that’s what he meant. “We’re each other support lines, here. Fuck, this is hard,” he grumbled. “I’ll. I’ll be there for you. As I know you’ll be there, for me, during this.”

“Oh.” I said dumbly and he motioned that the food was ready, and I was thankful for the change of conversation. I was not looking forward to talking to Hunter about this, let alone with the guy I was currently shacking up with.

That was something I planned to put off for as long as I physically could. Maybe I could ride back with Duncan instead of being stuck in the same car as Hunter for the entire trip home.

“Clean up first.” Duncan stopped me from grabbing our food. He pushed the beautifully fluffy pancakes to the side with the other ingredients. When one of the pancakes began to deflate, he changed his tune. “Uh, maybe after we eat.” He gave me a silly, dorky smile and I rolled my eyes.

We ate in the kitchen. No, it was romantic. No, it wasn’t an ideal sitting arrangement. The two of us using the same counter, on the same side, as we twisted our bodies uncomfortably to face toward each other and still manage to eat off our plates.

Still, it was one of the best damn breakfast I had ever had.

To his credit, the pancakes were deliciously fluffy and warm. They paired extremely well with the confectionary sugar I had dumped into a bowl and the sliced strawberries I had cut. The only two things I had really contributed to this breakfast.

I didn’t think the effort required to make these fancy pancakes was worth it, but didn’t tell the pit bull that. He was so happy watching me eat, and enjoy, his cooking. It was like our entire conversations from before never happened.

Duncan teased me about the horrible, sliced strawberries. None of them were cut evenly. All different sizes and, somehow, shapes. They all tasted the same and I rolled my eyes.

“What’s the big deal.” I asked offering a whip cream coated strawberry to the pit bull. His lips closed around my fingers, and I felt him lick them clean before he pulled away. My fingers were coated in his drool, and I wiped them off on his apron as he noisily chewed the treat.

“Doesn’t really matter with uncooked ingredients,” he said licking his lips clean. “It just looks like shit. Who’d want to eat that.” He added with a gruff laugh. Taking a strawberry, he dunked the entire thing into the bowl of homemade whip cream and brought it over. His fingers were a mess.

God above, he was an idiot.

Taking his wrist, I brought his hand closer to my lips and, watching him, I licked each and every one of his fingers clean. One by one, sucking on each digit and letting him slide it all the way down my tongue and to his knuckles. I did my best to never break eye contact and Duncan was frozen stiff, watching the display with a familiar horny interest as I opened my mouth, just enough, for him to finally push that strawberry in.

With a juicy crunch, I bit into it. Oddly, I liked the taste of his fingers more.

“W-when you cook things, i-it’s better to have them in equal sizes and… and shapes,” Duncan swallowed, staring at my lips longer than he realized. “It allows everything to c-cock, I mean cook! Cook at the same time,” he looked away quickly. “And it just… looks better.”

“Is that the case?” I licked my lips, then one of my fingers clean. “You know…” I glanced over at the left-over ingredients, then back at Duncan. “You were okay with sitting on my face this morning.” He blushed hearing that. “Okay with putting me in your apron,” I was the one to blush at that. “I was, uh, wondering…”

“Yes.” Duncan said and I nearly fell off the stool I was sitting on with how direct he did so. “W-whatever it is, yes… Douglas. M-my… boyfriend.” Duncan struggled to finish, and I was thankful as it came me time to regroup.

It always sounded strange to me to call someone your boyfriend, at least out loud.

“Right.” I cleared my throat, still feeling warm around the collar. “Ahem, what I was going to say is. We have plenty of leftover ingredients,” I nodded at the strawberries and whip cream. “I was wondering if you were into bringing it back to the room with us. To enjoy, together.” I hinted at.

“They’ll go bad before tomorrow if we leave them out.” Duncan, like the big idiot he was, said.

“Duncan,” I suppressed the groan in my voice. “I want to slather it over your body and lick you clean. From the tip of your toes to that dumb, dumb face of yours.” I laid out on the table for him. He gave me that blank dumb stare and I wanted to shake this man!

“W-won’t that be messy?” He asked looking at the left overs, then at me, and finally at himself. “Fur and syrup don’t go together. We just got the bedding done…” I could only assume Duncan asked the server who brought breakfast to our room this morning to also clean the sheets.

“Well, I meant like… You don’t actually pour it over each other.” Not unless you were pudding wrestling and I’ve only done that twice in my life. “What I meant was,” I tried to stop from laughing. I couldn’t. He couldn’t possibly be this ignorant and naïve, this dense and… innocent.

When I first met Duncan? I knew we were going to get into a fight. I kind of hated the man and I was sure he hated me. Now? Now I wanted to dip his toes in whip cream and stick a cherry into his sheath. Give him his just deserts before digging in.

It was hard to do that when you’d toss him the ball and it’d go clear over his head with the man still standing there, waiting for you to throw it.

He, at least, found the good humor in it and bashfully joined in. Laughing together like a pair of horny idiots. We finished breakfast without another word and cleaned up the mess we’d made in the kitchen like we promised to do.

It was a bit of a struggle for me, but Duncan made it look easy. I never realized how physically taxing it was to make food or clean up after. My arm felt like a wet noodle after helping him do all the dishes, put away the heavy pots and pans and then get to work on the industrial sized mixers that the original chef had left for us. Duncan was only perspiring slightly by the end of it while I felt that I had just gotten out of the gym.

Duncan would step in to help, but I was sure he just wanted to be close. I could smell him behind me as his breaths became a little labored, reaching up overhead to put something away I couldn’t reach. Maybe that was where Duncan got his bulky form from, I couldn’t help but think, watching him stretch, his muscles flexing, the cords in his arms pulling nice and taut as he placed a heavy ass cast iron skillet back up on the hanging rack overhead. A safety hazard, I wasn’t about to call OSHA about. Lifting and moving the large metal mixing pots, to whisking for a good solid ten minutes without stop... We were in his element here and I did my best not to get in his way by the end.

From cooking to cleaning, I felt like I was in his way. The pit bull on the other hand had other issues.

The problem was? I think Duncan, really, wanted me to get in his way. He hated when I kept his distance from me and would quickly come over to assist or tease me about something I was doing. From washing the dishes, to mopping the floor. Duncan was right there with me.

He would step up behind me to fix something I had been attempting. Then, other times, he would shove me against his chest. Holding me there while he worked. Bumping, nudging, touching. There was very little time where Duncan wasn’t physically against me in some shape or form.

I mean, I knew canines could be physically affectionate, everyone knew that, but I wasn’t expecting the pit bull to nuzzle against my face while we were cooking, let alone cleaning! The man nearly knocked me over doing so. Catching me off guard, practically head butting me as he’d done this morning. Pushing his forehead against my own and nuzzling his snout along my face. He was a large guy, and he could’ve easily ran me over if I wasn’t careful.

It was fun. He was fun. Even cleaning, I enjoyed his company immensely. Unlike… dammit, not now.

I had made mistakes throughout the morning and, yet, Duncan only teased me about them. He didn’t get mad. He didn’t yell or shout or, like, leave the room. Like Hunter would’ve. Like Hunter would have done… The German Shepherd didn’t like drama and would just leave during a middle of a conversation or an argument. He loved to tease and make fun of others but hated if you did it to him. He couldn’t handle or deal with anything. It was just too much for him.

And it’d always make me feel horrible about myself, because I was the one there to pick up the slack.

Maybe that’s why I hated cleaning so much. It left my mind to wander. And my thoughts, these days, weren’t entirely pleasant. Remembering the bad times more so than the good about my ex. Just thinking of Hunter made me so…

But he wasn’t here. Duncan was.

Ducan didn’t. Duncan didn’t make me feel bad about myself. He somehow didn’t make me feel that way. He teased me when I burnt the first batch of eggs. He got on me when I didn’t sift the flour first for his fancy froo froo pancakes. Then, out of curiosity, I had stopped what I was doing and simply asked. “Hey, Duncan, can you help me with this?”

And he did.

It was something I had been curious about and, sure enough, Duncan had come over to figure out what the issue was. He was far better of a teacher than I would’ve given him credit for. Both patient with my ignorance and capable of explaining things to me, a novice, about how to do the task. I was a beginner, and he dumbed things down for me, even changing from the metric system to help my dumbass American brain out with the measurements.

The entire morning, Duncan had been a better boyfriend than Hunter had our entire relationship.

It made me want to cry. Want to shout and hit things. It made me want to go back into the snow outside and scream until my voice grew hoarse. Years. I had spent years wasted on that bastard of a guy. So much money and time spent. All to be ended in heart break.

I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, a relationship is an investment. For your future. In your future happiness, in a home, in a car, in a life together. That’s why I never got frustrated with my brother who refused to date anyone, just sleeping around (hell, maybe it ran in the family). Well, half brother but I wasn’t about to go into that.

Fuck. I hate cleaning. I hate how my thoughts wonder like this. Going on and on. Picking apart every previous situation and scenario, every date I had with Hunter and trying to figure out… where did it all go so wrong?

Was it my fault? I hated that. I hated thinking that! It was still there. That annoying question hanging over my head. Had I not tried hard enough? Could I have been a better boyfriend?

“Douglas.”

Maybe I could’ve supported Hunter more on his stupid, dumbass idea of a career. DJ? Who the fuck is a DJ these days! How much money did I spend on his sound mixer? Money we both know he’ll never pay me back. How many hours did I spend driving him around to performances? Paying for gas and food, both ways. All because Hunter refused to drive. It gave him too much anxiety. Like he was some kind of child.

“Douglas…?”

And he wasn’t even good at it! He was a terrible DJ. And you know how I know that? Because I saw his competition. I saw the people he was going up against. The people who had the time, money and effort to work in that kind of field. It was cutthroat industry. People stealing each other’s gigs and stabbing one another in the back whenever they got the chance.

Hunter was too much of a puppy to handle that kind of stress. He wasn’t-,

“Douglas!” Duncan barked and I looked at him harshly.

“What?” And my face dropped. This stupid man. This fucking, stupid man…

“Like this?” Duncan asked with a dollop of whip cream on the tip of his off-color nose. He was giving that goofy smile again, trying his best. The pit bull trying new things that I asked of him, just because… I was sure he wanted to make me happy. “Did I do it right?” He asked and I felt a flood of emotions rush through me. “I tried to use the strawberry but it wouldn’t stay on.” He said and I could see the leftover of it on his lips still.

This stupid mad.

Emotions I’d been suppressing since my breakup with Hunter began overflowing inside. Focusing on sex to distract myself from them. Hooking up with whoever had been interested. Talking with the other guys, hanging out with them… teasing Duncan. Showering with Duncan. Going into a janitorial closet to drop to my knees for this big, dumb, stupid, idiot of a man.

This pit bull… Duncan. Huh, who would’ve guessed?

I kissed him. I didn’t mean to, it just kind of happened. My body slammed against his like a raging wave and his arms caught me before I could be toppled over. It was hot and steamy; it was warm and sticky. His tongue was against my lips, it filled my mouth, and his teeth brushed against my cheeks…

Then he licked me.

A soft, caressing lick to my cheek as I opened my eyes.

“Did I do it wrong…?” He hesitantly asked and I felt a bit of dampness on my cheek. It wasn’t from his tongue. I wiped my other eye off.

“No, Duncan. You did it perfectly. You.” I touched him and he touched me. Looking into those warm caring, concerned eyes of his. “Your perfect.”

And I kissed him again until he lost his balance and we both fell to the floor like a pair of idiots, in love…