Current location:	Kitchen Table
Current mood:	chipper
Current music:	Elephant Love Song Medley - Moulin Rouge
Entry tags:	donut, fic, smut, xxxholic

Happy Late Birthday, Watanuki!
Title: Cake Batter
Word Count: 755
Rating: er, soft R, maybe?
Spoilers: Absolutely none!
Disclaimer: Boys owned by CLAMP, much to my dismay.
A/N: Okay, it's a few days late! Erm... I didn't even bother to give it more than a quick edit, so excuse any mistakes.

I made cookies to celebrate! *passes them out to her fellow 104 fangirls* Enjoy my weak attempt at smut!

“Hey.”

Watanuki spun to face Doumeki, leaning casually in the doorway of his kitchen. “What do you want now?”

Doumeki strolled over to where Watanuki was apron–clad in front of a large mixing bowl. How he managed to stroll when it was a grand total of three paces, Watanuki didn’t know.

“The take–out’s getting cold.” Doumeki crossed his arms. “It’ll be even worse than it already is if you don’t hurry up.”

Watanuki bristled. All he’d been hearing all night was complaints that take–out wouldn’t match his home–made version, and while the veiled compliments always made him feel like the king of the world, hearing it repeatedly on his own damned birthday was getting a little irritating. “Well, let it get cold. I made you what you wanted on your birthday, and I’m choosing not to cook on mine.”

Doumeki’s level gaze didn’t even flicker to the chocolate–covered spoon that Watanuki was brandishing fiercely. “Then why are you baking?”

Watanuki deflated. “Because none of the bakeries around here can make a decent cake.” He frowned down at the thick batter in the bowl. “Besides, all I have to do is pour it into the pan and put it in the oven.”

Watanuki was still contemplating his cake mix when Doumeki unfolded his arms and snatched the spoon out of Watanuki’s hand. “What are you doing?”

Doumeki just blinked. “Well, you don’t need it anymore, do you?”

“Well, no, but you can’t just walk around and grab utensils out of my hand whenever you please –“ Watanuki was stopped mid–rant.

Doumeki was pleasuring the spoon.

Or, at least in Watanuki’s mind, that’s what it looked like. Long, lingering licks, eyes closed, mouth wrapped around the narrow bowl of the spoon, sucking it so hard it was nearly spotless. Watanuki’s knees went weak when Doumeki cracked open his eyes. “That’s really… good.” He sounded surprised, like his master–chef boyfriend had done the impossible, although Watanuki already knew Doumeki appreciated the quality of his baking. Doumeki caught Watanuki’s rising blush. “What?”

Watanuki turned away. They’d fooled around, of course: Watanuki had come to value the low–seated rumbles in Doumeki’s chest when he happened to lick that one spot behind his ear, Doumeki was becoming very familiar with the dips and hollows of his upper body – but they’d never – Watanuki had never thought about –

He couldn’t even get the thought out without his face turning bright red.

Doumeki leaned over to look at Watanuki’s face, but Watanuki turned away. Okay, he couldn’t think it, but maybe he could imply it, but definitely not with Doumeki looking him square in the face. He’d die from the embarrassment, but that spoon…

“I… think I know what I want for my birthday.” Watanuki managed to stammer, before peeking over at Doumeki, who had one eyebrow raised.

And promptly lifted the offending spoon back to his mouth and gave it a hearty suck, his lips making a popping noise as he released the pressure.

Watanuki’s vision swam, and next thing he knew, he was pinned to the front of the oven, the doors so warm they almost burned, but it didn’t compare to the heat radiating off the body against him. The kiss was hard and hungry, Doumeki’s hands roaming completely unashamed underneath Watanuki’s shirt, and Watanuki was soon a pile of hormones only held up by Doumeki’s hands and the rapidly expanding line of his hips. Doumeki broke away, his eyes as crazed as Watanuki felt. “Bedroom. Now.” He pulled away, bringing Watanuki’s arm with him, to shove him toward the hallway.

The infuriatingly practical portion of Watanuki’s mind protested. “But… dinner…”

“Will still taste just as bad reheated. You’re getting your birthday wish right now.” Watanuki lifted slightly surprised eyes at the gruffness in Doumeki’s voice as he gave Watanuki another shove. “Hurry up, won’t you?” He growled, and Watanuki started to stumble out of the kitchen, but Doumeki caught his arm again. “Don’t take off the apron.” He shoved the flustered boy one more time and gave one last glance around the kitchen, before throwing the spoon into the sink and grabbing the entire bowl of batter off the counter.

Watanuki was going to have to make more later, because Doumeki was planning on using the whole batch for obscene purposes, and given the look on his face when he’d practiced on the spoon, Watanuki wasn’t going to mind it one bit. Doumeki grinned wickedly to himself as he followed Watanuki down the hall.