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Title: Hawk and Tamer
author: wede
pairing: Jeff Morgan/Christian Kane

notes: existing relationship.

summary: food and sex.

Christian has this recipe for pound cake, the one his grandma gave him. It's a bit of a cheat using a cake mix, but by the time he throws in extra sugar and eggs and oil and milk, its so dense nobody can ever tell. Especially not after he pours the thick homemade caramel icing over it.

Yeah, that's what he'll make. Pound cake and warm caramel icing. Good southern food and he'll throw chopped pecans on the top. Shelled from the big Mahan pecans from a friend's tree, the old fashion kind of pecans that the stores don't carry. Chris pulls the recipe card out, written in the faded blue ink of Mimaw's hand, but he barely glances at it. Instead he sings a song he's working on, half under his breath, as he mixes the batter. He's got the chorus, most of the first two verses and he works on smoothing out the words as he pours batter into a greased tube pan, slides the pan in the oven.

Nothing to do but wait, so he grabs one of Jeff's imported beers and goes to hang out on the back porch.

Christian doesn't really get Seattle. The city's a little too wet and cold for his taste. He's a southern boy and summer should be shades of brown and the heat powering off the highway under his bike and that blissful shock of going from the blistering heat into the cold green-blue of swimming holes. But him and Jeff are moving into something more, and he's working his way around to getting to like it.

The beer is too sweet, a little too thick, but he drinks it anyway. Checks his watch, and goes to turn the heat down a little. This is the way to cook pound cake, babysit it a little, lowering the temperature a couple of times until its done. He grins when he turns the cake over onto a plate, because it comes out perfect. He knows he should let it cool, but Jeff will be home soon and Chris guesses they will be distracted after that. And he'd really like to have a couple of slices with supper tonight.

He grins wider. Besides, Jeff has a thing about homemade desserts and Christian figures its a good thing thing to rack up brownie points. Chris has to leave Friday, head back to the grind of his regular life, and Jeff and him have talked about the next hook-up, but haven't figured out a date yet.

Yeah, racking up brownie points are definitely a good thing.

He melts the sugar slowly, watching for the color to change. Moves the spoon slowly across the bottom of the pan, careful to keep the icing from crystallizing. Mimaw was the one who showed him how to do it and he smiles, remembering her patience with him. He gets the icing perfect, lets it set for a few minutes while he finishes his beer.

He picks up the pan, drizzling the icing down the warm cake. Uses his thumb to direct the rivulets as they pour down the sides. Chris does it the way he was taught, working slowly and carefully and he could almost swear he's back in his grandma's kitchen, cicadas humming through the screen door and smell of barbecue pork ribs in the oven and the worn feel of the old linoleum beneath his feet. He is working so intently he's misses the sound of Jeff coming home. Isn't aware of it until Jeff is behind him. Jeff hooks his chin over Chris's shoulder, slides one warm hand up under Chris's t-shirt, across the soft hair on his belly.

The other trails down Chris's arm. Jeff clasps his wrist, and he leans further over Chris's shoulder, slowly sucks the caramel off his thumb. Jeff's tongue is wet and his mouth is hot and Chris is suddenly very much aware of Jeff's weight as he presses closer, so Chris is trapped, trapped between the cabinets and the the hard bulge of Jeff's cock through his jeans.


Jeff's surprised at just how much the knowledge of Christian waiting for him changes the tenor of his day.

He still gets it done. He's a pro. But he's ready to be done and when they let the crew go, he makes a quick pass at getting make up off and dumping his wardrobe on a frowning Katie before running to his car.

Seattle's traffic is nothing if not civilized. He's glad because his LA driving skills make skimming around more placid drivers easy as pie. Still and all it takes him nearly thirty minutes to get home. Home. The thought makes him stop, makes his hurry pause so he can savor the idea of his apartment with Christian in it being home.

He barely notices the parking garage, curses the slow elevator, counts the steps from the slowly opening doors until his key's in the lock and isn't that enough of a metaphor to get him hard.

The aroma of cake hits him like a tidal wave, stops him in his tracks. He can see the back of Christian, standing at the stove, stirring. T-shirt too small, jeans old and ragged, Levis riding low, showing the tempting rise of ass.

Jeff stalks. Drops his coat and bag right in the doorway and flat out sneaks up on Christian.

He presses up against Chris, chest to back, thigh to thigh, cock to ass. Slides one hand under his t-shirt and his other down his arm. Clasps his wrist and pulls it towards him. It's an odd angle and Christian helps, groaning, turns into the caress as Jeff sucks the warm caramel from his thumb.

"Caramel?" Jeff lets go of his thumb, his voice low and amused.

"Caramel." Chris pants the word out. He turns in Jeff's arms, puts his hands on Jeff's ass, pulling him down for a kiss. Its wet and messy and he can taste the beers that Chris has had.

Chris's fingers dig into him, and he's groaning, because yes, just yes, that's what he's been wanting all day and fuck if this southern boy has somehow turned him into a randy teenager again. And fuck if he's complaining.

Jeff takes a step back, going to haul both their asses into the living room, but Chris is tugging him down, down onto the cold hard tiles and Jeff couldn't protest if he wanted to. He's pressed against the floor, Chris over him, knee between his legs. Chris has him pinned, is kissing him, tongue thrusting in, taking and exploring and Jeff's fists Christian's shirt, trying to drag him even deeper in.


Christian tears himself away, stays within breathing distance and looks. Jeff's arousal is obvious, eyes lazy, half lidded and hungry, mouth slack and wet with spit from their kiss. The sight makes a fire in his gut, in his cock, and he smiles.

"You wanna move this party? Or should we 'christen' the kitchen floor?"

Jeff gives him a look, a look that clearly say 'bring it' and that's it. Chris grins, wide and dirty, and reaches up blindly to turn off the flame under the caramel. Then he's tugging at Jeff's button flies, popping the buttons, tugging the jeans down. Jeff toes off his boots while Christian stands up, loses his own jeans. There's a bottle of extra virgin olive oil by the stove and he grins wider as he reaches for it. Been a long while since either of them were that.

Slicks up and kneels between Jeff's knees. Chris was always for hands and knees and not looking face to face, but Jeff has changed all that. He hooks his arms under Jeff's knees, pressing his cock in. Another difference, Jeff doesn't ever want prep, doesn't ask him to go slow.

Its rough and and more brutal than anything Chris has ever experienced, fucking into the tightness, the heat and his sting as sweat rolls into his eyes but Chris couldn't close them if he tried. He wants to see this, memorize this, the look of almost-pain on Jeff's face as he fucks in harder, and their panting seems too loud and harsh in the kitchen. He pulls out and slams back in, swearing as the rawness of his need simply slams through him, everything else lost in the bliss of his cock deep in Jeff's ass.

He presses up with each thrust, his belly dragging low and sweat-slicked across Jeff's cock, each thrust a not so gentle nudge on his balls. Jeff cries out, hand tightening in Chris' hair.

He tries not to come when Jeff squeezes down tight on his cock but it's useless and he just lets it go and his climax crashes through him.

He comes to curled over Jeff's chest, his own hair tickling under his cheek.
Jeff rumbles and Chris tries to listen but he's still shaky and unfocused. Wet and sweaty and sated and he sighs and relaxes further as he feels Jeff's fingers gently working through his hair, other hand stroking down his arm. The tile is cold, Jeff's hot and sweaty under him, and suddenly he's hungry.

"Hey, babe."

Chris finally makes out words and smiles against Jeff's chest. "Stop callin' me babe." he grouses, the expected protest. And smiles again when Jeff's chest rumbles with laughter.

Yelps when Jeff rolls him off. and squawks when he lands on his ass, cold tile to hot skin.
Rolls up to standing and he's a laughable mess, jeans gone, t-shirt rucked up under his armpits. Cock wet with come and ass. Jeff rolls to his side laughing and makes his way to his feet as well. He slings one long arm around Chris's shoulders and drags him in, smacks a messy wet kiss to his angry lips, traces them with his finger.

Chris wants to punch him, hates being cuddled and baby'd and all that shit. But Jeff's smiling, nose pressed against his neck, breath ruffling across his ear and his fight drifts away. He groans again, because, damn but Jeff knows how to get him horny. But he's also sweaty and hungry and he wants to be clean.

He tugs away, slips the t-shirt over his head and looks over his shoulder at Jeff.

Turns out, supper is much later than they plan. But the cake is good.

Date: 2009-08-04 05:24 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] calamitycrow.livejournal.com
yay!!! its posted!! yesh,boys and cake and caramel......

Date: 2009-08-04 05:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wede-fic.livejournal.com
lol it's that darn christian kane. I can't get him outta my head.

Date: 2009-08-04 05:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] inane-nana.livejournal.com
*needs a cold shower*
and yes, i will deny reading and liking this fic for as long as i can. (smishes them)

Date: 2009-08-04 06:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] calamitycrow.livejournal.com
is that plausible deniability? or implausable? hmmmmm?


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