They've made playoffs. They clinch a wild card spot on an away game and Jack wants to celebrate but it's too hard to let loose so far from home and with only being close to a few of his teammates so he takes a hearty swig from Tater's (first) bottle of champagne, then tucks his own into his bag to bring home and share with Bitty.
He texts Bitty when he's leaving the airport and when he walks into his apartment he discovers his boyfriend booty-dancing in the kitchen in tiny shorts and an apron, no shirt, Queen Bey blaring on the speakers. There's a plate of high-protein healthy snacks and a bottle of cold Gatorade on the island next to the maple-crusted apple pie responsible for the delicious fragrance of the place and- Jack is confident- at just the right temperature for warm, gooey devouring without burning the roof of his mouth. Bitty's timing is Beyond Perfect. Speaking of timing, it's only 2 and a half days before spring break is over and Bitty has to head back to the Haus for the end of term. Jack needs to make the most of it.
He eases his bag down gently and tries to shut the door quietly but Bitty hears the quiet click of the latch above the noise and is instantly launching himself up and into Jack's arms. Jack delightedly staggers back against the door under Bitty's weight and gets a firm grip on his ass before kissing him again and again and again before giving up under the onslaught and tilting his head back while Bitty devours his ears, throat, and shoulders. When Bitty at last returns to his lips, Jack steers them back into the kitchen and sets Bitty down next to the food on the island. They feed each other the snacks and Gatorade between kisses and licks and hurried catching-up talk and by the time the plate's clean, they're both flushed and hard and a different sort of Hungry.
"Bits," Jack groans. "I have missed you so damn much and all I want to do is take you to our bed and keep you there for the next two days. But I also want to drink the bottle of champagne in my bag with you and celebrate making playoffs in a gloriously tipsy fashion that would make Shitty proud. But I also really, really want to eat this pie."
Bitty hums thoughtfully. "So..... who says you have to choose?"
Jack pulls his mouth away from the mark he's leaving on the side of Bitty's neck and looks him in the eye. "You don't mean....?"
"You have a mattress pad on your bed, right? I'll go grab a spare top sheet and extra towels, you grab the champagne and the pie."
"No forks. So maybe an extra pack of wet wipes, too."
More water also sounds like a Good Idea. And their toothbrushes and toothpaste and cups to spit in if they're so absolutely tired afterwards that they can't stagger into the bathroom to take care of necessities. And a wet washcloth in a bowl in case the wipes alone can't handle the stickiness. By the time Jack has the nightstand covered and checked that there's a small trashcan handy, Bitty has covered their bed with 2 extra top sheets and made a big rectangle on top of that with 4 beach towels. The pillows are left alone but Jack knows that's because Bitty made sure they were encased in sealed, hypo-allergenic pillowcases several months back.
They pop the champagne in the kitchen over the sink after a brief discussion about shaking, spraying, and the resultant clean-up. He offers Bitty the first sip straight from the bottle, locker room style, then takes a drink himself before they both dissolve into hiccups.
"So that's why they shake it first."
"Or pour it nicely into champagne flutes and let it sit a minute."
"Good lesson there."
They both giggle and Jack puts his thumb over the opening and shakes it gently over the sink to ease some more bubbles out before they carry the bottle and pie, gently steaming, into the bedroom. Bitty kneels up on the bed and reaches for the bottle to take a more careful swig before setting it on the nightstand. He reaches for Jack and when Jack seats himself next to him, Bitty straddles his lap, grabs his face, and seals their lips together, gently tilting the champagne into his mouth before following up with his tongue. Jack reluctantly pulls back to swallow then dives back in, licking the champagne taste from Bitty's mouth. Jack swigs a big mouthful of his own but he's overeager and pours too much in Bitty's mouth too fast and his boyfriend shoves him away, sputtering and gasping, as champagne trickles down his chin and slides down his throat. And that.... oh.
Jack pauses just long enough to put down the bottle and yank his shirt off before he's on it, stopping the longest champagne trail with his tongue and tracing it all the way back to Bitty's jaw before starting again with the next-longest, and then the next. Jack hums at the heady taste mixture of champagne and Bitty's skin, lost in a Cup-celebration fantasy, and Bitty moans in response. Jack tracks the last sticky line all the way up to Bitty's lips and devours him in a fiery kiss. He's not sure if his head is buzzing from the champagne or Bitty's skin or the playoff run about to begin that hasn't really sunk in yet. He doesn't care, especially when Bitty surprises him with a quick nab of the bottle and a hard shove backwards.
He topples onto the bed, terry cloth feeling soft but utterly Different under his skin as Bitty squeezes his thighs around Jack's hips and tilts the bottle menacingly over Jack's chest with a gleeful smirk. "Now, Mr. Zimmermann, where to start?" Jack flexes just to see Bitty's grin widen before it fades into a thoughtful frown. "Oh dear... we have a problem here. You don't seem to have any spot on you concave enough to hold liquid. Hmm...."
Jack smiles innocently and flexes again as Bitty considers him carefully. Finally, he tilts his graceful throat back and takes a long swig before dropping suddenly to Jack's chest and fastening his lips over one nipple. The sensation feels odd at first and then Bitty suddenly opens his mouth, keeping it tight and firm against the skin and..... oh. Champagne is flowing over and around his nipple, swirling under and on Bitty's tongue, little bubbles fizzing in tiny micro-bursts of sensation. Jack tries to provide Feedback, like they've promised to do with each New Thing they try, but it comes out, "Bitty.... Bits... Bud... what you're doing... ehhnnnn... mon Dieu, Bits."
Bitty sucks hard as he slowly closes his mouth again and pulls back, swallowing hard. Jack loves watching his Adam's apple bob up and down that slender, delectable throat, loves to feel it Move against his lips or under his tongue, loves to think of all the things that causes it, whether it's excitement, shy nervousness, or- best of all- a load of Jack's come sliding down, down, down after another amazing blowjob. Speaking of....
"My turn," he grinned, grabbing the bottle from Bitty with one hand and trying to flip them with the other without spilling any. Now it's his turn to closely examine Bitty's body and come to the same conclusion. It'd be so hot to pour the champagne over his nipples or the lines of his abs, but the liquid would just run right off his body and onto the bed and leave it covered in damp spots with only sticky trails left on the skin. "Next time we're trying this in the tub."
He takes a big swallow, then a more careful drink, before setting the bottle down and slowly, so very gently, dribbling the champagne into Bitty's mouth. He licks into his mouth, chasing the flavor, before roaming to explore his still-sticky throat then sitting back up. He likes this, but he’s still a bit hungry, and Very Concerned about getting so buzzed it affects his, ah, Performance. "Guess it's time for pie, then."
He reaches for the pie tin, then hesitates. It feels like the ultimate sacrilege to eat one of Bitty's special pies with his bare hands like this. But Bitty said he didn’t have to choose between celebration, sex, champagne, and pie….. and this is supposed to be a celebration…
He gently eases his fingers in near the edge and is startled by the sensation of the warm, gooey filling enveloping his fingers and oozing under his nails. He carefully scoops out a handful and takes a bite, moaning at the rich, mapley, appley goodness chasing the champagne on his tongue. He takes another bite and Bitty swats his thigh. “Hey now, do I get included at some point?”
“Sure, Bits,” he grins and then drops the rest of his handful in the middle of Bitty’s chest, watching it splatter over Bitty’s nipples while the blonde shrieks in surprise and faux-outrage.
“Eesh, it’s all warm and gooey.”
“Thought you’d be used to having your chest covered in thick, wet stuff, Bits.”
“Oh, ha ha, Mr. Zimmermann. This has chunks in it. And crumbs.”
“Guess I’d better clean you up, then.”
Jack leans down and licks delicately at the mess, working from the outside in until it’s all centered in the middle and he can lap it up. Or try to. His tongue can’t actually pick up any apple pieces or sizable chunks of crust so at some point he gives up, opens his mouth wide, and just Dives right in. Filling smears across his face as his teeth lightly scrape Bitty’s skin again and again until there’s nothing but a sticky patch left. Bitty’s noises during all this are just Delectable.
“I need more,” he declares before scooping up an even larger handful and distributing it evenly onto Bitty’s nipples. This turns out to be more difficult though, the pectorals defined enough that any spilling slopes off to either side and crumbs threaten to cascade down. He eats more quickly this time, being sure to nip gently at Bitty’s sensitive peaks with every bite, a difficult task given that his plate keeps squirming beneath him.
Jack feels tipsy and turned on and just so darn Happy. He doesn’t have to choose. He can have Bitty and sex and champagne and pie and a NHL career and a playoff run and the sexiest boyfriend that ever lived and a huge bed in a soundproof apartment to combine all the things that Jack likes best in life. He can have it all.
He grins greedily and fills his hand with more pie, the cinnamon, brown sugar, maple, apple aroma doing Wonderful Things combined with Bitty’s sweat and the lingering taste of champagne in his mouth. He reaches his hand out to Bitty’s mouth as if to offer a taste, then pulls it away when Bitty controls his gasping enough to lick his lips and make a begging face.
“Hey! Jack, that’s not fair! I haven’t even tried some to make sure it turned out right yet!”
“Ah ah ah, Bittle,” he chides. “Serving dishes don’t get a say.” He laughs at his boyfriend’s indignant sputtering then plants his hand, palm-down, on Bitty’s abs, smearing the big chunk of pie in a roughly even layer over his defined abdominals.
“Oooh, that feels weird. The crust is soft and flaky, but still kinda rough when you rub it like that.”
“Shhh, serving dish. You’ll get a turn when I’m done.”
“Why, you little- minx! Scoundrel! The nerve of you!”
They’re both giggling now, and Jack watches the pie chunks jiggle on Bitty’s stomach until they nearly overflow before clamping down his thighs more tightly over Bitty’s and pressing his chest back into the bed with one hand to hold him still while he eats. He eats everything off the flat planes of Bitty’s stomach but leaves the filling in the ridges between the muscles, marveling at the contrast and trailing a sticky finger in the gooey lines. Sadly, Bitty is far too ticklish and squirmy for it to be all that sensual or arousing so after a minute Jack pins him firmly down while he licks up the rest. The next scoop goes back into the middle of Bitty’s chest and Jack eats it with as much tongue and teeth as he can manage as Bitty’s giggles subside back into gasps and the occasional impatient, wriggling moan. He sets the pie tin down long enough to take a swig of champagne, loving the way the bubbles pour over the stickiness in his mouth, then picks the tin back up to contemplate his next move.
“Oh no, you don’t, Jack Laurent! That’s your hungry face, not your sexy face! You’re just plain eating it at this point, you- you Heathen!”
“And I suppose you have a way to make eating pie any sexier than I already did?”
“Is that a challenge, Mr. Zimmermann?”
“Maybe.” He smirks at his flushed, sticky boyfriend. “You think you’re up for it?”
“Hand over the pie and I’ll show you how a True Foodie does it.”
Jack carefully sets the pie down on the nightstand before easing off his boyfriend, who immediately scoots off the bed to strip naked and wipe down his chest and abs with the washcloth. Bitty’s only half-hard now, his arousal having eased off a little from all the giggling, but his eyes flare dark and greedy as he shoves Jack onto his back in the middle of the towels and strips him down too, before straddling his hips. Jack hisses as their naked bodies press together, then gasps as Bitty slides up to reach for the champagne, taking a long swig with head tilted back, eyes shut, before swallowing visibly. Jack holds back a moan as he watches Bitty’s Adam’s apple bob down and then up, then can’t help himself as he watches Bitty tongue the rim of the bottle and lick his lips.
“Crisse, Bits. S’il te plait….”
“Please what, sweetpea?”
“Forget the pie and make me come. Please. It’s been so long.”
“Ah ah ah, Zimmermann. You gave me a sexy, pie-eating challenge and I intend to conquer.”
He grabs the pie tin off the nightstand and slowly slides his thighs down from Jack’s chest to past his hips and flexes them once, hard, grinning as Jack shivers at the sensation. Jack knows he’s a Slut for muscles and being pinned down and Bitty dominating in general but their tentative forays into BDSM so far have been so careful and thoroughly talked out in advance while this… this is unfamiliar and new, with the champagne and the pie and them both quite tipsy, and Jack has absolutely No Idea what will happen next.
He loves it.
Bitty delicately scoops up pie on two fingertips and sucks them into his mouth, tongue darting out and around to catch every crumb as he eyes Jack’s naked body. His dick is suddenly Very Interested in being covered in pie and then swallowed by Bitty, but he doesn’t know how to ask, doesn’t know how to form words when Bitty’s cheeks hollow with the force of his sucking and he watches those slender, strong fingers slide in and out of his boyfriend’s perfect mouth. Still, he has chirping duties to maintain.
“That….”, his voice catches in his throat. He licks his lips, tries again. “That doesn’t count as eating. That’s barely a taste. And I’m not even involved. Sexy pie eating… not proven.”
“Oh?” Bitty arches one perfect eyebrow and eyes first Jack’s face, then his aching dick, then his face again. “Well, Mr. Zimmermann, if you insist.” And he scoops up a huge handful of pie, cradling it carefully as he sets down the pie, then suddenly wraps his whole hand and the entire Mess around Jack’s hard cock.
Jack shouts because it’s warm, warmer than Bitty’s skin, and the filling is squelching out the top of Bitty’s grip and dripping down the bottom and the chunks feel weird sliding against his skin and the crust is rough but not and Bitty had tried to warn him but this.... this… well, this is something he has never experienced before, and words are failing him in both languages.
Bitty bends down to nip at the chunks that have reached his pubic hair and crisse, that’s going to be a mess to clean up later. Bitty laps and licks around the base but is so careful not to catch any hair in his teeth. Jack spares a passing thought to marvel at his boyfriend’s care and consideration in the midst of their buzzed shenanigans but it quickly disappears as Bitty works up to his shaft. Jack squirms and clutches at this hair as Bitty licks so lightly that Jack can feel the gooey layer of filling sliding in-between tongue and cock. After several excruciating minutes of oral clean-up all the chunks and crumbs are gone, and Jack thinks Bitty is close to granting him mercy. But then he shifts up, sits, reaches for the pie tin, and Jack almost groans in disappointment, desperately wanting to be done with the food aspect and on to the orgasms. Bitty carefully swirls his fingers, scooping up nothing but filling before easing back and wrapping a hand around Jack again, stroking loosely up and down as if experimenting with a particularly thick and novel form of lube.
Jack isn’t sure if the sounds he’s making are words, but he knows he’s begging and hard and he knows Bitty knows it, too, and there’s a wicked grin spread over that beautiful face as it inches down, down until a Heat hotter than pie engulfs the head of his cock.
Jack yells to the ceiling as Bitty’s free hand keeps him pinned and stops his helpless, urgent thrusts up for more, more, more, more and a wet, sticky tongue laps thickly over him again, again, again. Jack is being devoured alive and he loves it, wants Bitty to take him down, eat him up entirely until he’s taken apart and there’s nothing left and he’s inside Bitty forever.
Bitty’s mouth slides open and over him as far as he can go, then his lips clamp down in a tight seal as he sucks slowly back up. Jack gasps as cool air wisps over the suddenly pie-less parts of his dick in stunning contrast to the warm thickness wrapped snugly around his base and the hot mouth at the head.
He barely manages to choke out a warning as the heat and sensation build and build until it feels like he’s drowning in it and he’s just about to tip over the edge, just needs that slightest bit more pressure when Bitty pulls back again and fills his hand with pie.
Jack writhes with Frustration. He thinks he’s whimpering but he can’t tell as the pie makes contact with his dick and it feels just as strange as ever, too many textures, not enough pressure, but then Bitty’s mouth is back and it’s hot and tight and the suction is so perfect and he’s crying Bitty’s name as he explodes, chasing his release in that wet, familiar mouth he knows almost like his own hand.
Then he’s crying out for a different reason because after that first, glorious spurt Bitty pulls off and just holds him tightly and Jack is coming to the cool, open air and down his own dick instead of being lapped up and swallowed and imagining himself sliding down his boyfriend’s hot, tight throat. He pants through the aftermath, wordless with aftershocks and disappointment, but Bitty just grins even bigger, wrapping both hands around him now and carefully scooping as much pie up and off of him as he can before tipping his hands forward to show him the result. And crisse, there he is, Bitty’s joined hands piled high with apples and filling and crust and over the top of it all is Jack’s come spilling over the top of the ruined pie like cream topping, like melted ice cream. Jack has coated one of Bitty’s finest culinary specialties and now, mon Dieu, Bitty is raising his hands to his face and biting into the mess. He grins around a mouthful, never breaking eye contact with Jack, apples and filling and crust and come smearing across his cheeks and Jack’s cock tries to twitch to life but he can’t, he just can’t, he’s absolutely Drained and all he can do is watch as his come disappears bite by bite, lick by lick, into his boyfriend’s mouth as his beautiful eyes smirk at him. After what seems like a small eternity, Bitty’s hands are empty and he’s licking and sucking at his fingers, then delicately wiping at his face and lapping that up, too.
Jack still can’t Words, can’t English or Quebecois or anything else, but he can damn sure still act. He thrusts another pillow under his head then grabs Bitty’s hips and drags him up, up, and forward until his hard, beautiful cock is filling Jack’s mouth and he’s sucking hard. He wraps one hand around Bitty’s shaft and squeezes, moaning around the head and lapping wet and fast, intent on showing Bitty how it feels to be utterly consumed. Bitty ate him, used his come to top off one of his precious pies, devoured the Whole Thing, and Jack sucks until his cheeks hurt, moans until his throat’s sore, and digs his fingers into Bitty’s hips until they cramp from the grip and Bitty is crying his name and flooding his mouth. He swallows, then swallows again as the last few spurts dribble onto his tongue, then laps Bitty’s cock clean and savors the taste, reaching out one long arm to grab the champagne bottle, carefully maneuvering it over Bitty’s hips and trying to tip it into his mouth before his boyfriend laughs, takes the bottle away, and does it for him. The bubbles feel strange fizzing over the thicker come on his tongue and he’s not sure even an expert sommelier could describe the Taste Combination he’s experiencing right now. Bitty takes his own swig, carefully sets the bottle back down then swings one muscled thigh over and off his chest and collapses bonelessly at Jack’s side.
“That…. That was….” Jack swallows and tries again. “Was that the champagne…? Or the pie…? Or the playoffs….? Or just how awfully long it’s been since we’ve last been alone together and anything we added to the mix would have turned out utterly filthy?”
His boyfriend laughs breathlessly. “All of the above, sweetpea. Welcome to the hedonistic lifestyle of closeted multimillionaire star NHL players with secret baker boyfriends. You get the Pie and the Champagne and the Celebration and the intense built-up Horniness on top of the Bodies and Metabolism of dedicated collegiate/professional Athletes.”
“Put it that way, my life’s pretty sweet.”
Bitty groans weakly at the joke and shoves his face into Jack’s chest. “We need to clean you up. I’m just… having trouble moving at the moment. So much pie.”
“And come. Pie à la Jack-mode.”
“Mmmph.” He wants to come up with a good responding chirp, something about topping and Bitty getting enough protein and cream pies… protein-topped pies? And he needs to clean up but he’s just… so tired… orgasmed into Exhaustion and he has absolutely no idea how much he’d had to drink but it’d been months since he’d had more than a single beer at a time. Soon. He’d clean up and come up with a chirp soon.
He has no idea how much later it is when Bitty nudges him in the side then shakes his shoulder. He still feels exhausted and empty except for a quite full, almost sloshing, stomach and he’s Sticky and Gross in a way that no workout had ever made him. He shifts and tries to stretch and oh, merde, the filling caked into his pubic hair had congealed and now was pulling painfully at every movement. “Crisse, I’m disgusting.”
Bitty snickers and slides out of bed, straightening the towels left behind so Jack can struggle out of bed without his body touching the sheets. “And that, sugarpie, is why we wash the dishes as soon as we’re done baking.” He eyes the filling Situation between Jack’s legs and then adds loftily, “Especially the serving dishes!” Jack groans and swipes at him but he just giggles and slips off to the shower, Jack limping gingerly along behind.
The resulting shower is one of the longest and most thorough of his life, but Jack can barely stand for it. He slumps heavily against the tiled wall while Bitty laughs and fusses over him and chirps constantly about sugar scrubs being good for the skin. Everything’s all blurry and fuzzy around the edges and he’s feeling sort of floaty the way he does sometimes after a really intense orgasm. Bitty’s cheeks get rosy in a steamy shower and when he’s well-fucked and when he’s tipsy and now he’s all three and the apples of his cheeks are practically Red with the combination. Jack snorts softly and gooses his boyfriend’s ass.
“Hey now, Mr. Zimmermann, what’s that about? What’s so funny?”
“Apple… you… apple-cheeked. You’re rosy apple. Red apples. All cheeks. Ass cheeks. Didn’t eat pie there, but….”
“Alright, mister, no more shower for you. Here, brush your teeth while I dry you off. Poor helpless athlete, can’t handle his tipsy food sex…”
“I can do… food sex. But you… ate me. Put me on pie. Kink? Eating someone? Fetish?? Being eaten? Izza name…?”
“Are you talking about cannibalism, sweet pea?”
“Non. Sexy eating. Kinky stuff. We did…..?”
“Um, well, I think you’re talking about vore, sweetheart, and that’s not really something I’ve ever thought about or looked into ever. Why, honey, did that do something extra special for you?”
Jack frowns and considers it while he reluctantly brushes the taste of pie and come and champagne out of his mouth, replacing it stroke by stroke with sterile, minty freshness. He carefully swishes and spits away the last, lingering traces of their night while Bitty bustles around in the bedroom, whisking off towels and top sheets and changing pillowcases before proclaiming their bed satisfactory and sleepable.
It’s not until they’re curled up together under a new sheet and the previously banished duvet that he answers Bitty’s question. “Not… eating not special. Tastes so good. Pretty fun mixed with sex. Everything’s fun with you, Bits. But not… not fetish. I just…” His voice trails off to barely a whisper, but he forces himself to finish before sleep pulls him under. “Just want to be inside you all the time. Just want you to be in me… always. Carry me around with you. Us together. No… no more separation. Always… connected.”
“Oh Jack,” Bitty whispers back. “I love you, baby. I love you so much. Always and forever.”
The words sound very floaty and far away. Jack wonders afterward if he dreamed them.