Story: "Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch"

[indybaggins.livejournal.com]

Author: Indy Baggins
Title: Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch
Pairing: Mike McShane/Drew
Rating: NC-17
Summary: This is basically food!porn. Very sweet, although possibly scarring in terms of imagery (exactly how naked do you want Drew and Mike to be? )
Author’s notes: Written for the “Never Ever Ever” challenge, Zekkass requested Mike McShane/Drew. Beta was done by Cae, thank you. The fic was written to this song. Oh there is such a fine line between porn and bad!fic… *snickers*




Drew was scrambling the eggs, humming quietly to himself as he added some more spice. It was nearing noon, rather late for breakfast but they had both woken up just a couple minutes before and he didn’t want to be alone yet, not yet, so it had seemed like the right thing to do, to cook breakfast. As he turned down the fire under the pan of sausages and flipped them onto a plate with an expert twist and a shake of his hips, he felt like a teenager again. Anxious, excited and sated all into one. Oh the morning-after...

While walking over to the fridge, he took off his apron (looked too much like the little housewife) and checked his reflection briefly before getting the orange juice and pouring it into two glasses. A small smile wandered around his lips as he heard the sound of the shower being shut off in the next room, and the buzzing of an electric razor. Mike. He had never thought he would end up with Mike… (Oh god.)

Checking on the coffee, he noticed the pancakes were a pale golden-brown, and he carefully peeled them from the pan before flipping them onto a plate as well. He was feeling so scarily elated he thought he would take to whistling some silly tune if he didn’t feel slightly self-conscious about doing so with someone else in the other room. The night before had been truly amazing (sex, so much uncomplicated, shameless sex), and as usual he felt slightly nervous about messing it up one way or another (he always did). But on the other hand he believed it could be something truly real for once, the feeling so unfamiliar he nearly danced the pancakes over to the carefully set table, but he suppressed the urge because he didn’t want to seem too eager after all.

He was just rescuing the heated syrup from the microwave and adding one final pinch of salt to the eggs, mentally going over all the elements that should make a perfect breakfast, when he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening.

When Mike appeared in the doorway, nothing but a large towel wrapped around his waist, Drew let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Yes. He hadn’t been sure Mike would stay for breakfast (and would have felt truly sorry if he hadn’t), but now he obviously would, and hell, he wasn’t even dressed so that meant there could probably be more after…

Mike lingered in the doorway though, if possible even also a little unsure, and so Drew spoke eagerly “Hi.” Mike’s small smile turned into a genuine adoring one, his eyes bright and twinkling, and Drew felt prompted to walk up (one step, two) and place a wet kiss on Mike’s lips (god he tasted great), seeing his eyebrows rise in surprise, and say “Breakfast.”


The breakfast itself went into a different direction altogether almost the moment they started. There was something about seeing Mike eat a sausage that made Drew wish they were in bed again, and when he admitted as much to Mike there was laughing and Mike’s wicked demonstration of licking the grease from a sausage, deep moans and all. To Mike’s amusement, Drew had to look away, a light blush creeping over his cheeks.

And then… then there was the syrup, Mrs. Butterworth at her best, he had spilled a little on his hand by accident, (warm and tacky) and he was already licking it off when he felt Mike’s eyes on him, and so he did it again, slower.

When Drew ended up on the floor with a playful Mike holding him down while he was being squirted with the syrup bottle he was laughing so hard he thought he had pulled something. And he was utterly amazed that it still managed to be sexy when Mike leaned in and licked right over his cheek before kissing him on the mouth, laughing all the way through the kiss, tasting sticky and sweet.

It turned into full-blown sex after that, with Mike losing his towel somewhere in front of the oven and Drew’s boxers landing with a soft whoosh on the counter, covering two forgotten pieces of buttered toast. The floor was cold and about as uncomfortable as they could get but it was also thrilling, and Drew found he had rarely appreciated his kitchen floor as much as he did in the very moment where he snagged the syrup bottle from Mike and poured some over Mike’s dick. Mike laughed at that, a little out of breath maybe, and said “Yeah baby!” in such a low voice that it sent Drew into a boneless fit of laughter again.

When he recovered from the laughing (he wondered if they were high, they weren’t, right?) he eyed Mike again and tried to look serious before licking his lips in what he hoped was a sultry way, seeing Mike’s eyes darken in response. He went down then and put Mike’s dick between his lips, trying not to think too much about what he was doing, but soon he was hearing nothing but Mike’s appreciative sounds, low groans and “Oh yes!” and somehow it didn’t matter anymore.

Mike stopped him after a few minutes though, and frankly he was grateful, the position was uncomfortable as hell, the taste overwhelmingly sugary and his knees had been slowly killing him, and he was pulled in for another kiss. Still slow, but with a nip of teeth and lots of tongue and mainly it was very Mike, sensual and playful and bold all at once.

Flopping back to lie on the floor, (the syrup mashed between them made it difficult to do anything more than stick together, in many good ways of course) he eyed Mike, who was getting up with a cheeky grin and a bright blush on his face. Mike was hurrying, and the thought of what he presumed he went to go get was enough to send a warm rush of affection through his body.

Lying there in the middle of his kitchen floor, surrounded by two half-empty plates, a mashed-up t-shirt, one of Mike’s forgotten sausages and an empty bottle of syrup, Drew realized it might be love. He was sure it was love when Mike returned, out of breath and a devilish gleam in his eyes, holding a bottle of lube in his right hand and a can of whipped cream in the other.

Drew squeaked, something like “I’m never going to be able to look at my kitchen again” and “dear god…” all into one, but didn’t complain as Mike sat down on his knees and opened the cap of whipped cream, shaking it suggestively (Drew grinned broadly) before covering Drew’s stomach in little white dots of whipped cream, and moving in to lick it off.

Later, when Drew had come inside Mike’s mouth and was turned over to his stomach, hissing at the cold of the floor, he tried to remember if there was a house-keeper, or some easily-shocked gardener who would be around at that time of day and might glimpse inside, but then decided he honestly didn’t care as Mike’s two lubed fingers pushed inside of him, and he groaned all over again.

Mike changed his fingers for his dick easily, they had done this twice the night before already, but Drew found that he had almost forgotten the truly delicious feeling of it, of being filled, surrounded by Mike. And it didn’t matter that his head was almost bumping against the wall, or that Mike’s foot kept on hitting one of the chairs, nearly sending it toppling over the both of them, because it was messy and awesome and so them, and he could feel Mike coming, grunting into his ear, slamming into him, and it was yet another mind-boggling high he had never thought he would feel.

Afterwards they were both lying on the floor, Mike still on top of him, and he found he enjoyed the weight, the warmth, and there was a drowsy, broad smile on his face even though he knew Mike couldn’t see it as he was murmuring contently into his shoulder, placing kisses there.

Finally, he spoke up, feeling as if he had no breath left between being stuck to the floor and under Mike and just being fucked so thoroughly, and said “next time… we really should do this in a bed…” and Mike laughed into his ear, agreeing easily “Oh yeah…”






mood: ...