September 6, 2007

"Happy Birthday, Sir"
a Steve and Bret interlude by Mychael Black

Bret set the box on the counter and lifted the top. He couldn't stop the grin. Despite the weird looks he'd gotten from the young woman behind the counter at the bakery, the cake was exactly what he'd asked for. The top was iced in a camo pattern--green, gray, black, tan. His favorite tattoo, the tribal Colonel rank insignia on Steve's right bicep, dominated the middle, done in black icing. That was the non-weird part. It was the request for the tiny metal handcuffs on each corner that had the chick at the bakery blinking. Bret had found two keychain-sized sets in a novelty store and took off the chains. There was a handcuff on each corner of the cake now. It was perfect.

He closed the box and pulled down Steve's favorite cookbook. Though he himself didn't eat, Bret knew his Master loved food, so he took the time to make every meal something decadent and exquisite. Although Steve wasn't likely to ever admit it, the man loved fine dining. Chuckling to himself, Bret started on the prep for the white clam sauce he planned on putting over the linguini.

***

Fuck. Exhausted, sore, in desperate need of a shower.

Steve stopped at the front door and for the first time all day, smiled. The smells coming from inside were mouth-watering. He unlocked the door and walked in. Bret was kneeling in the foyer, eyes downcast, wearing nothing but the black leather pouch. "Something smells good." He closed the door and held his hand out to Bret. Those lips parted and Steve just barely managed to stop the shudder as Bret's tongue stroked his fingers, bathing the toughened, scarred skin in slick heat. Bret's eyes closed and the moan that slipped over Steve's flesh sent every ounce of blood running south. "Permission to speak," he said, his voice rough and thick even to his own ears.

"Happy birthday, Sir," Bret whispered, that tongue doing wicked things between Steve's clipped fingers. "Cake..." The man's tongue traced one jagged scar. "Dinner..." Then back up. A quick glance confirmed what Bret's voice gave away: he was hard as stone, his prick pushing and straining against the leather. "Me..."

***

Today's Scavenger Hunt Clue- To find Mr. Michael's button, you just need to wander in his library.