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Needs More Wasabi

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“Come on, Dave, I did this for you!”

“Can I get a raincheck.”

“You like sushi, right?”

“Yeah, LaLonde turned me on to that. Pretty tasty.”

“You like me naked too, right?”

“Well, yeah babe, what’s not to like about that? But this is something really fuckin’ different.”

“I don’t see the big deal. I think it’s pretty clever, actually!”

“I don’t know..”

John was laying atop the kitchen table, flirting from the center of a group of dishes. An arrangement of dipping sauce cups, a rectangular plate with a set of chopsticks, a small container of what looked like wasabi. There was a large sized platter of sushi as well, high quality from the look of it, covered in a thin sheet of plastic wrap on John’s lap.

When Dave shifted his line of sight up from the table to John’s face, he caught sight of the angelic smile turning into a well known smirk. That look meant business. More specifically it meant ‘I am going to get exactly what I want while making it entirely worth your while, so stop fighting it’.

Yeah, he was screwed.

Eh. At least it’d be worth it. It usually was, once John gave him that look.

“Alright, alright, you tied my hands behind my bac-“

“Dave, that was last week.”

“…….Be that as it may. Tell me what to do, dude. Let’s make this shindig happen.” Pale lips twitched up on one side into an off balance smile as he pulled off his shades, wanting to get a solid look into his eyes, see the happiness light up the blue.

They always looked six shades brighter when he was happy, glimmering. Darker when he got turned on. Grey when he was sick, or feeling sleepy. There was so much to tell about his boyfriend just from his eyes alone.

As hoped for, bright irises caught red, held it, before coming to life. Oversized teeth caught at his bottom lip for a moment, teasing it till it grew pink, released it as he raised the platter higher from his lap.

“Well. I lay back, and you put the sushi on me. Oh, don’t worry! I just showered and stuff. I’m spotless, heh. Just lay it out however you want, then go ahead and enjoy your dinner.”

Dave was dubious, picking up his chopsticks and giving them a halfhearted twirl, still a little curious over the process. Was that all?

“What about you, Eggs? When do you eat?”

“Oh, any time. I could eat later, considering I chowed down on some of this earlier, or you could feed me a few tidbits now and then while you eat,” the brunette said as he laid back, stretching his legs out, resting his hands
beside his hips.

Ever so carefully, Dave began laying out the sushi onto the tanned skin, focusing first on his chest. They both laughed when he covered the round nipples, when he traced a line down his chest to his happy trail, knowing the small pieces would take quite a lot to fill the blonde up.

“Pffff, hehe.. Dave, come on, that tickles!” he complained as a chilly piece was lain at the apex of his groin.

“Come on babe, you’re beautiful, lemme put your salmon skirt on.”

“Skirt?! Come on!”

“You look good in one. It’s those legs, babe, they go for miles.”

“That’s just because you’re a shrimp. Besides, that’s not salmon, it’s tuna!”

“Tuna, huh? I keep forgetting it’s not supposed to be all grey.”

Another laugh, this one louder, almost making Dave drop the piece he was laying into said seafood miniskirt pattern. A sharp pinch of the chopsticks and he stopped, stifling his giggles.

“You’ve had sushi with Rose before, that was likely tuna as well. You’re too used to the junk from cans.”

“Excuse you, I like my shredded dolphin bits and miracle whip just like any other man.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you actually said it.”

“Yup.”

“That’s so gross!”

“You eat tuna salad too, don’t knock it. I’ve seen you lick that junk off the spoon when we make sandwiches.”

“I do not! I jus-.. Dave. Dave, I don’t think that goes there.”

He was placing the last few pieces, covering his groin, placing the last piece on the very top edge of his dick, making him wiggle in place. The food threatened to fall till he stopped, toes clenching at the air a few times in distress. Dave wasn’t giving in an inch, climbing up on the table as well, dodging bowls to lean down and pick it back up with his mouth.

John writhed, forcing himself to limit his movements, fighting to not drop anything on the floor. It was a difficult battle, once warm lips made another few passes over the sensitive skin in order to pick up any residue, moving on to another piece.

“F-fuck.. Dave, come on, you’re doing it wro-ahh…. You’re. You’re supposed to use the chopsticks!! Or your fingers!” he complained, twisting his head to look downward as his boyfriend continued a steady path along his body. The pattern was the same, dip, chew and swallow the tidbit he’d selected, lick the spot clean, move on.

“I’m doing it just fine, considering I’m eating in privacy, and off of the finest looking dinner plate I’ve ever lain eyes on.”

“You cheesy and your ah! .. Your jokes suck!”

“Fascinating.” Another piece, nuzzling the soft flesh of his inner thigh, devouring the bottom ‘hem’.

“I mean it! Come on, do it right, it doesn’t go like that! You’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

It was Dave’s turn to laugh, loudly, snorting on the down beat. Oh, God, he’d really said it hadn’t he? Another few licks had the tan skinned boys member slowly coming to life, clear in the center of a ring of untouched sushi, making him twitch. Again, however, he was trapped by the morsels on his chest and stomach.

“I’ll do you the favor of promising to never tell another living soul you said that out loud. We even?” He gave another long, leisurely lick up the side before suckling the head, making the dark head fall back with a dull thud and a moan. When he was twitching, desperate, he pulled away and leisurely went back to eating, leaning over his body with his arms spread, reaching for the food he wanted most.

“DAVE. RUDE. Come on, don’t just leave me hanging!”

“I’m not. You’re laying.”

“You know what I mean! Dave, so help me, you’re not getting any for a WEEK after this!” John was aroused, annoyed, bitching loudly. Unable to even reach and soothe himself, cursing, promising Hell for his boyfriend who was casually eating the rest of the sushi, climbing up to straddle his lap as he ate up the trail.

Finally, after a time of ignoring his grunts and complaints, the rolling of his hips, the blush on his face, Dave uncovered the last two pieces on his body. The sensitive buds of flesh were lavished with attention, distracting his wrath with his mouth, hands trailing downwards to undo his own fly.

“Dave, fuck, let me off the table!”

“Nope, you’re staying right the fuck here. Gimme five minutes, it’ll be worth it.”

“Why? Dude, seriously, get off. I’m gonna break something if I move too much.”

“Then you’d best not move, huh. Chill, I’m getting my dessert.”

---

It had been a day and a half since their escapade in the kitchen, and it would be a good year before Dave trusted sushi again.

They had broken the sauce cups, the serving tray, and likely a neighbors ear drums considering how loud they got as they reached orgasm. Plans were made to make good use of that table the other way the next afternoon, maybe with a sexy apron involved, some high stockings Dave kept in his drawer.

That plan fell through.

Mostly because vomiting and high fevers were not conductive to their type of romance, and trying to be sexy with the flu was just not happening.

“It’s not the flu, it’s food poisoning.”

“The-… ugh…. Then why aren’t YOU sick?! You ate some too, you said!”

“Eh. I fibbed.”

“Why the fuck would you fib about that?”

“Dave, lay back down, you’ll pass out, or puke on me or something. I’ll get some ice. I fibbed because I wanted you to eat as much as you wanted.”

“How long was it out..”

“Uh.. Well. I had it out since I got home, and then I put it in the fridge for a few minutes, then took it out when you texted me that you were on your way home from work.”

“…..You fed me sushi that had been left out. Man. That’s like, number one no no.”

“I thought it’d be fine!”

“You thought wrong.”

“I already apologized.”

“Man, you are my personal bitch for the next month, oh my god, fuck my life.”

“I already said I’d make it up to you!”

“Making it up don’t replace the stomach lining I’ve yakked up.. Stop yelling. Let’s watch a movie or something..”

“Alright, alright. Lemme get the laptop.”

--

When Dave recovered, he did indeed make John his personal bitch for thirty days, and the limits of the kitchen table were thoroughly tested.