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“Hey, baby,” Cregan greets, stepping into the kitchen. It smells heavenly, like sugar and vanilla and maybe a hint of blueberry; and it’s sweet, but it’s not nearly as sweet as how his pretty wife’s ass looks in the baby blue lingerie he’s got on beneath his apron.
The outfit is artfully arranged; silk blue straps, powder blue lace, a few bows and ribbons trussing him up—even a garter belt that attaches via pearl strands to blue bands wrapped tight around the tops of his thighs. But the most delicious part of it all is the brilliant line of pearls running down his backside, right between his well-toned cheeks.
Cregan wonders if they slide along his ballsac, too.
Thinks he’ll bend Jace over to see for himself before he leaves the kitchen.
It’s not every day that he comes home to the sight before him now, and he’s not going to waste the opportunity it presents, because while Jace frequently hangs around their house in panties and oversized shirts—if Jacaerys is in lingerie when Cregan gets home from work… it means he needs to be used.
Needs to be shoved up against the wall and fucked until he can’t breathe—even if he resists a little or pretends he doesn’t want it. Because regardless of whether or not he whines or complains or pushes Cregan away so he can “focus,” Jace standing in their kitchen in nothing but pearl and silk and lace means he wants to be debauched.
Cregan is more than willing to step up to the occasion.
He moves up behind Jace and wraps his arms around his boy, marveling at how perfectly Jace’s smaller frame fits into his broad chest. “Jacaerys,” he breathes, kissing the hollow of his wife’s throat, sliding a hand down along his side so he can reach beneath the apron to thumb little circles into Jace’s lower belly, can tease a finger along the band of his panties. His boyfriend is still soft beneath the blue lace, but it’s fine—he’ll catch up when he’s ready. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too,” Jace responds, pushing back against Cregan’s hips in greeting before he resumes humming off-key to the music floating through the speakers. He’s not really paying attention, though, not to Cregan’s explorative hands or to the music. He’s too caught up in whisking a sweet-smelling mixture to perfection.
Learning to bake has been his billionaire boyfriend’s latest obsession; a task he’s been taking very seriously as of late. Jace may not have a job, may spend his days at home by himself, but he’s creative about filling his hours, seamlessly jumping between hobbies when he’s not sucking on Cregan’s dick or having the bigger man suck on his.
Still, Cregan is home now, half-hard and horny; and his boyfriend is wearing scraps of fabric in lieu of actual clothes, meaning his body is free to be used however Cregan desires as long as he lets Jace continue doing what he’s doing.
And fuck, Cregan more than desires.
“Thought about you all day,” Cregan murmurs, untying Jace’s adorable little apron and tossing it to the side, slipping his fingers beneath the baby blue straps of Jace’s thong so he can massage the sensitive skin covering his wife’s hipbones. “You almost done?”
“Yeah,” Jace says, “I think this one will be good.” He lifts the wooden mixing spoon from the batter and holds it up for Cregan to taste. “It’s a recipe from that girl I was telling you about? Margaery’s Sweet Shop? On the Tok.”
“The pregnant one?” Cregan drags his tongue along the edge of the spoon, licking up the batter, as Jace nods in confirmation. He moans when the smooth, rich taste of honey-vanilla melts in his mouth, and Jace’s eyes darken in return, his pupils expanding with obvious arousal at watching Cregan lick up the white cream. “Delicious,” Cregan decides, voice low and gruff and far more heady than what the situation calls for.
“I know,” Jace says, all confidence after a day spent in the kitchen, but his dark gaze remains on Cregan’s mouth even after the cream is all gone.
“Hey, beautiful,” Cregan says, again, but in a softer tone—listening to the voice in the back of his mind reminding him that Jace usually does this, requests without words to be fucked like a whore, when he’s got something on his mind that he can’t get off of it; something he’s not ready to talk about, yet. “You been in here all day?”
Jace hums an affirmation, licking his lips, still watching Cregan’s.
Cregan moves forward, pressing their bodies together, and cups Jace’s jaw with a gentle hand, tilting his head up. There’s a dusting of white powder on Jace’s cheekbone and Cregan wipes it away so that he can see the flush blooming across his boyfriend’s face, sucking his thumb into his mouth to taste. “Powdered sugar?”
“Yeah,” Jace breathes, parting his lips and dragging his gaze up to Cregan’s at last. And when he does, it’s as if the smaller boy is seeing Cregan for the first time this evening. “Hi.” He glances down between them, red washing across his neck now, too. “Do you like it?”
Cregan groans, rocking forward so that Jace can feel his half-chub where it’s trapped behind his pants. “Love it,” Cregan murmurs, meaning both the outfit and the dessert, “love you.”
Jace smiles faintly, like he’s not quite sure he believes it, and though Cregan wants to shove the words down Jacaerys’ throat—wants to force his boyfriend to believe him every time he says them—he doesn’t press. Knows there will be time for that later, when the lingerie is gone and the dessert has been consumed and it’s just the two of them, skin-to-skin in their own little world, fucking each other beneath the furs on their bed and spilling their hearts across each others’ chests.
So instead, he ducks forward and presses a chaste kiss to Jace’s plush mouth, pulling away before it becomes something more than a tease.
“Go on,” Cregan encourages Jace. “Finish up. I can help myself.”
Jace looks like he’s going to say something, but then turns back to the batter and clears his throat. “I need to add the blueberries,” he explains, gesturing to the bowl filled with them.
“Are they from the garden?” Cregan asks, pressing between Jace’s shoulder blades, pushing his boy’s chest a little lower so that his ass will stick out.
“Yeah,” Jace confirms, moving down beneath Cregan’s hand. “Didn’t want them to go bad.” He’s pliant, spreads his legs without needing to be asked, and when Cregan trails his fingertip along the strand of pearls, he grins at finding that the pearls do, indeed, run along the underside of his boy’s balls. They’re snug up against the sensitive sack there, rolling back and forth easily when Cregan tugs on the strand, and so Cregan does exactly that; he teases the thin skin there with the strand of pearls until Jace is breathing faster, until his focus on the mixture he’s whisking is a little less acute.
“They did look ready, so that’s good,” Cregan responds, playing with the thong for a few more moments before he finally pulls it to the side. He traps the strand of pearls between Jace’s sack and his thigh so they won’t get in the way of their kitchen romp, and then covers Jace’s backside with his large palms. “My conscientious billionaire.”
“Always,” Jace confirms, his voice only a little strangled as Cregan spreads his asscheeks to get a better look between them; a sight so beautiful that his own cock pulses, half-hard where it’s trapped against his thigh.
“Beautiful, baby,” Cregan murmurs, dragging his thumb down the slick crack, “love it when you’re ready for me.” He kisses the low of Jace’s back, and then remembers he’s not supposed to be paying attention to the way that Jace’s body looks and feels beneath him; he’s supposed to be fucking his boy like Jace is just a piece of ass, like he’s a toy to be used. So he clears his throat, lets it drop back into the gruff, dark tone that always makes his wife hard, and plays at detached. “Any blueberries left out there?”
“No, I picked them all this morn— oh—” Jace breaks off in a gasp as Cregan pulls the pearl-capped plug out from his hole and sets it on the island behind them. Jace releases a low, keening whine as his pink hole winks, visibly empty and bereft, and Cregan chuckles, kissing his spine, pressing two fingers up into Jace’s slick, quivering entrance to satiate the obvious need.
“You’re greedy tonight,” Cregan hums, swirling his fingers around inside of Jace, scissoring them to see how open he is. It’s a tight fit, but loose enough that Cregan won’t have an issue pressing in and giving his boy what he’s so desperate for without any further prep.
Which is good, because Jace has stopped talking, stopped folding in the blueberries, in favor of breathing heavier, and Cregan doesn’t want to distract him too much, so he withdraws his fingers and unzips his pants and pulls his cock out from beneath his briefs.
Gets on with it.
“Just taking the edge off,” he tells Jace, although Jace in lingerie means he could do much more if he wanted, “keep going. I’m listening.” He withdraws his length and strokes himself the rest of the way to hard, reaching for the bottle of ‘kitchen lube,’ as Jace dubbed it cheekily when they first moved in together and his boyfriend requested that Cregan… use him, from time-to-time.
That Cregan come home and take him without asking.
That he, on the occasion, bend Jace over the counter and fuck him into whatever sweet confection Jace happens to be whipping up without allowing him to stop; that he rail Jacaerys like a common whore while acting as though it’s just another day in their life.
And so sometimes, Cregan does exactly that.
Fucks Jace into the counter until neither of them can breathe and there are bruises purpling along Jace’s sides from the tips of Cregan’s fingers.
He thinks he’ll go slow tonight, though. Tastes something sweet and mournful in the air, so he thinks he’ll be a little rough and impatient right now—and then lay Jace into their bed after dinner and work him to tears, worship his wife until he’s vulnerable and pliant and ready to talk about whatever it is that he’s withholding.
Can’t stand the thought of going to sleep without first burying himself inside of Jace’s body and his thoughts.
Cregan drizzles the lube into his palms and rubs them together, warming it up, and refocuses on Jace. “You were talking about the blueberries?”
Jace shudders a little but resumes folding them in gently while Cregan coats his length in the slick lube. “They’re tart, so it’ll offset the— oh, fuck, fuck—” Jace hisses, collapsing forward and dropping the rest of the blueberries, bowl and all, into the batter as Cregan pops the blunt, fleshy head of his cock into Jace’s ass with a firm, shallow thrust. “Cregan,” Jace whines, “my batter! A little warning?”
But the arch in his back betrays his desire, and so Cregan just chuckles and rolls his hips forward, works a little more of himself into Jace. “It’s fine,” he murmurs, the tight, wet heat of his wife surrounding him, making the blood in his veins buzz happily. “Your dessert will still be good with a few burst berries.”
“Won’t look perfect,” Jace huffs with faux-indignation that Cregan ignores.
“Gods, you’re tighter than I thought you’d be,” he mutters, rocking forward to bury more of himself inside of Jace. He fills his boy slowly, working himself deeper—
“Cregan, I was almost done,” Jace whines, squirming and distracted by Cregan’s touch.
“This will only take a moment,” Cregan says, stroking down the soft notches of Jace’s spine and sinking most of the way to the root as Jace’s hole flutters around him, starting to tense up. “Relax, sweetheart,” he groans as pleasure flashes through him when Jace flinches, bearing down.
And it’s good, so fucking good, but he wants in all the way—needs in all the way—so he bends over and kisses Jace’s shoulder. “Let me in,” Cregan breathes, using more pressure to rock into Jace, massaging his hip gently. “Let me in, baby.”
Jace makes a strangled sound and picks the bowl out of his concoction, holding it up while Cregan grinds into him. “I measured so carefully,” he whimpers, the sound choking off when Cregan pulls back to thrust again. “Let me— unghhhhhh— let me at least get it done enough to go into the fridge before it sets up wrong!” But his body once again betrays his true nature, because Jace relaxes his ass and allows Cregan to sink to the root.
And honestly, Cregan can’t tell if Jace actually cares about the dessert or not, but his wife feels so fucking good wrapped around him that he ignores Jace’s pleading.
“Fuck,” Cregan hisses, snapping his hips forward and bottoming out with a groan, already drunk on the satisfaction he gets at being inside of his favorite person. He brushes aside Jace’s hair presses his lips to the back of Jace’s neck as he rubs a palm across Jace’s lower belly, splaying out his fingers and holding his boyfriend steady. “Such a good wife when you want to be, letting me stuff you full before I even take my suit off.”
“Needed it,” Jace whispers, his body already trembling even though they’ve only just begun. “Needed you inside me.”
“Gods, yeah,” Cregan growls. “You think of me while you got yourself ready? About how your fingers and that plug will never be enough?”
Jace makes a strangled sound instead of responding and Cregan grins. He loves it when Jace is like this. Tense, but warm as he adjusts to Cregan’s size. Loves it when he can feel his wife’s desperation so plainly through his body. Loves when the warm, wet heat of Jace fluttering around his cock sends little pulses of electricity through Cregan’s prick and up through his system, like his nerves are on a circuit board attached to his partner.
Like they’re connected on a visceral level—because they are, in more ways than the one.
Cregan fucks into Jace a couple of times, his slacks muting the slap of his thighs against the back of Jace’s ass, and then comes to a stop, fully seated inside of his boy, and strokes his palm down Jace’s side.
“Hurry up and finish, I’ll wait.” He pulls his jacket off and tosses it onto the counter behind him and then leans back over Jace, crowding into his space and sets to sucking a hickey into the skin at the top of Jace’s spine while he’s snug inside of him.
He could live here, he thinks, his body vibrating with the sheer pleasure of being surrounded by Jace, even at a stand-still. His balls are jerking between his legs and he knows this won’t take much time at all to find release, that he won’t last even if he wants to.
Jace is too fucking delectable, especially after a long day at work.
“You act impatient now,” Jace huffs, flexing around him as he uses a powder blue spatula to scrape the cream off of the blueberry bowl and finish folding them in, “but when it comes time to eat, you’ll be licking the dish.”
Cregan chuckles. “I thought tonight maybe I’d lick something else.”
Jace inhales sharply, clenching his ass, tightening around Cregan’s cock with his eagerness. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, sweetheart. Seems like you need me in a bad way,” he guesses, but before the moment is ruined with the unspoken vulnerability simmering just below the surface, tacks on, “now finish up so I can take your sweet ass the way it was meant to be taken.” Then he sinks his teeth into Jace’s shoulder to let out some of the pent-up energy buzzing through his system.
“Okay,” Jace breathes, pouring the batter into a glass dish. “But I’m still annoyed at you for making these blueberries pop.” He wiggles against Cregan, then, pushes back so that Cregan will get off of him.
Cregan sighs and withdraws. “Brat,” he mutters, kissing his shoulder again and then backing up to give his boy space, because while he might play the growling, dominant wolf when Jace asks him to, he’s soft as fuck when it comes to his wife.
“And yet, you love me,” Jace says, taking the dish towards the fridge, and Cregan was right about his boyfriend’s arousal catching up with his own, because the flushed, red tip of Jace’s cute little cocklet is pushing up through the top of his blue panties, leaking over the side.
“I do,” Cregan agrees, fisting himself lightly.
Jace bends low to slide the dish into the fridge, keeping his knees locked out so that his ass is shoved up in front of Cregan like a prize to be taken. “Besides,” Jace preens, “I’m only a brat when you’re mean.” His hole winks at Cregan and the latter decides he’s been patient enough.
“That so?” Cregan doesn’t let him turn around. He just pushes Jace up against their restaurant-sized double-door stainless steel refrigerator and steps forward to take what he needs—what Jace asked him to take in his pearl-and-lace outfit. He hooks the tip of his cock through the rim of his boyfriend’s ass and then thrusts forwards, caging Jace in against the fridge with a low growl as he sinks to the root. “And is it mean of me to fuck you like this?”
“Super mean,” Jace breathes, his cheek pressed against the stainless steel.
Cregan hums, pulling out and thrusting back in without any of the slow, measured care from before. He fucks Jace like he might a hooker in a bad tv show; hard and fast and relentless with each thrust, showing no mercy to the precious body beneath his own. “I think you like it when I’m a little mean,” Cregan reminds Jace as he ruts roughly into his wife. “I think you like it when I remind you who you belong to.”
“Yeah,” Jace sighs, but it’s a relaxed, comforting sound. “Yeah, I do.”
Cregan grins and then sets to fucking. He doesn’t need this to take long, has already drawn it out longer than he planned to, so they stay where they are against the side of the refrigerator—every thrust making it slam loudly against the wall like a trashy porn flick—and fucks his wife hard and fast.
Jace keens beneath him, clenches around Cregan’s prick in a way that makes pleasure curl through the bigger man’s body, and arches his back up to meet Cregan’s cock. And fuck, he’s so pretty like this; his cheek pressed against their fridge, his eyes shut, and his body quivering beneath Cregan’s touch. He looks mindless with pleasure, breathing in-tune with the thrusts, responding like it’s instinct to shove his ass into every stroke that Cregan feeds his body, like he’s satisfying something primal as he meets Cregan thrust-for-thrust, and it’s so arousing that Cregan can’t help it.
Can’t help the desperate words that bubble up from the back of his throat;
“Let me fuck a baby into you.”
Cregan freezes, realizing what he’s just said, but Jace—
Jace cries out, ‘fuck,’ in a half-shout, half-sob and coats the side of their stainless steel refrigerator with his own load, painting it with his arousal, coming completely untouched—but stuffed full of cock.
Cregan is still frozen in place, his fuck-drunk mind still trying to process the possibility that his boyfriend has the same kink that he’s spent the past year swallowing down in the throes of sex, burying beneath lines like ‘let me fill you up until you’re bloated’ and ‘you’re so pretty when you’re full of my seed,’ that it takes him a second to react.
But Jace, still coming as he clenches around Cregan, reacts.
“Oh, gods,” Jace whimpers, eyes fluttering open, “yes. Yes, yes yes.” He’s still trembling, shaking in the aftershocks when he slides a palm up the fridge and tangles his fingers with Cregan’s. “Yeah,” he breathes, pushing back, his neck bright red, “please?”
And the way that his boyfriend has been cracked open like an egg beneath Cregan makes it all click together for the bigger man. This is what’s been on his mind. This is what has been making Jace quiet and withdrawn and a little bit distant—but still desperate for Cregan’s touch.
He needs Cregan in the same way that Cregan needs him; and gods, does that get Cregan going.
“You like the sound of that?” Cregan asks, the words coming out gruff and strong. “You want me to fuck a baby into you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Jace whines, “yes.”
Cregan groans as he resumes railing his wife against the fridge, slipping his hand down to palm at Jace’s softening cock, drinking in each twitch from the oversensitive head as he slams his hips forward and chases the orgasm burning low in his belly. “You were made for me,” he growls, filling Jace again and again.
“Fuck me,” Jace whines, “c’mon. You sai— nnnnngh— you said…” Jace trails off in a whimper, but Cregan’s mind is together enough, now, to fill in the blanks.
“Yeah,” Cregan cuts him off, sliding his wet hand up Jace’s tight lower belly to press his big palm on the place that—despite all logic—Cregan wants to fuck a baby into. He presses his fingers against the soft, taut flesh and imagines it growing, imagines it expanding; even just a little. “You take me so fucking well, baby, so well,” he praises, drinking in the tight clench of Jace’s hole, the little hisses and gasps of pleasure. “Perfect little wife, my perfect little wife. Gonna knock you up, aren’t I? Gonna fill your belly with my seed until it’s taken, until my perfect little wife is fat and round and pregnant.”
And even though he’s already come, Jace chokes out a cry of pleasure and nods, somehow making Cregan’s body sharpen with his own need to find release. He pauses, only for a moment, to shove his pants and his briefs down—difficult with only one hand, but manages it before he sets back to fucking.
He fills his boy with long, deep strokes; sinking to the root each time, increasing the pace with each thrust until the only sounds in the kitchen are the slapping of skin-on-skin and the soft ‘ngh, ngh, ngh,’ coming from Jace’s mouth.
He doesn’t stop until he finds release inside of Jace’s tight body; groaning as he does, sinking his teeth into the column on the side of Jace’s neck as his hips stutter and he fills his wife up with cum. When he finally pulls out, Jace’s pink hole continues to blink as the pearly-white cum dribbles down over his balls.
“Bend,” Cregan murmurs, kissing his way down Jace’s spine, reaching for Jace’s softening cock and pulling it back to catch his seed.
Jace does so obediently, and Cregan is so turned-on watching his cumdrip soak his boy’s cock and balls that he nearly takes Jace down his throat then and there.
Nearly sucks him back to hard just so that he can drink him down.
He doesn’t, he’ll save that for later this evening, but he does trace the trail of white spend with his tongue, lapping it up delicately as Jace, breathless and sex-drunk, continues using the fridge for support standing up.
“Gorgeous with my seed dripping out of you like this,” Cregan murmurs, kissing Jace’s backside. “A proper wife. Wet and used and full of seed, but still open and ready for more.”
Jace makes a soft whimpering sound of agreement and Cregan kisses the bulge of his wife’s ballsack, and then sucks one of them into his mouth, before releasing it with a wet, ‘pop!’
Cregan scrambles his hand around on the counter, searching for the pearl-capped plug, and then—after pushing as much of his seed back into Jace’s hole as will fit—plugs his wife up tight. When he stands up, he turns his boyfriend around and backs him up into the fridge; crowds into his space like he owns it. “This what’s been bothering you?” He breathes hot against Jace’s lips, wanting to kiss him but needing an answer. “This why I came home to my wife all trussed up in lingerie, slaving over the kitchen like you have— like you’ve got—”
“Cravings,” Jace whispers, biting his plush lower lip. “For blueberry and—”
Cregan cuts him off with a groan, licking into Jace’s mouth as his mind goes numb. He kisses Jace hard and fast, drunk on the idea, on the concept of his boyfriend needing this just as much as he does. Of Jace being so distraught over the fact that he wants to be bred that he baked up a storm and prepped his ass to be fucked and let Cregan take him right here against the side of their fridge.
When Cregan finally releases Jace’s mouth, he does so with one palm over Jace’s lower belly. “You finish up,” he purrs, nuzzling along Jace’s jaw. “I’ll order takeout, because you’ll need your energy for the rest of tonight.”