Acquired Taste

Chapter 1: Can I Ask You Something?

"Hey?"
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"Hey, um, are you busy?"
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"Gosh, of course you are. The kitchen is like, your study area."
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"Oh. Okay, cool. I just stepped out from my room. I was studying and-"
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"No, no, don't stop what you're doing. I just-God, that smells incredible."
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"Is that butter?"
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"Really? Brown butter?"
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"Okay, see, that's exactly what I'm talking about."
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"What?"
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"Oh my god. Nothing. Sorry. I just, um..."
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"Can I step into the kitchen for a minute?"
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"Thanks."
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"Wow. It's warm in here."
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"Yeah, no kidding. I see you've got the oven going again."
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"Actually, that's sort of what I wanted to...talk to you about."
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"No! Nothing bad. God, no. You're not doing anything wrong. I mean, technically, I probably shouldn't have moved in with someone who spends half their waking hours making pastries, but that's hardly your fault."
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"Sorry. That came out weird. I mean, I'm glad we found each other to share the rent this year. God knows, tuition here is expensive enough."
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(laughs)
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"Okay, so..."
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"You know how I've been working on that big English literature paper?"
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"Yeah. The one about food and domestic symbolism in nineteenth-century fiction?"
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"Ironic, right?"
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"Thirty-five pages. Minimum. And my professor wants the preliminary draft by Friday."
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"No, I'm not done."
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"I'm not even close."
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"I'm on page seventeen, and I swear to God I've rewritten the introduction six times. Six. At this point, I think Dickens himself could rise from the grave, read it, and tell me to get a life."
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"Yeah, okay, that's funny."
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"But seriously, I'm losing my mind."
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"And that's actually why I'm here."
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"Because..."
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"God. This is embarrassing."
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"Can I sit down?"
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"Thanks."
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"Oh, wow. These stools are actually comfortable."
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"Okay. Here's the thing."
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"For the last month or so, whenever you start baking, I-can't concentrate."
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"No, no. Not because you're making noise."
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"It's...the smell."
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"Like, tonight, for example. I was sitting at my desk, doing a perfectly respectable job of pretending to understand literary symbolism, and suddenly the whole apartment started smelling like..."
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"Well, like whatever heaven smells like, I guess."
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"And then my stomach started growling."
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"Really loudly."
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"And I realized I'd been staring at the same paragraph for something like twenty minutes."
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"Yeah."
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"So, I came out here."
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"And here you are, looking all pleased with yourself."
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"What's that smile for?"
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"Nothing? Uh-huh."
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"Anyway. It isn't just tonight."
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"Remember those chocolate croissants you made two weeks ago?"
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"Pain au chocolat. Right. Sorry."
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"Yeah, those."
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"I was working on my bibliography when you pulled them out of the oven."
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"And you gave me one."
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"Actually, you gave me two."
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"Because I asked for another one."
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"Okay, fine. Three."
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"God, you remember everything."
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"But that's my point. Before you moved in, I barely ate breakfast. I'd grab coffee on campus, maybe a granola bar, and basically forget food existed until dinner."
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"Now?"
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"Now I wake up wondering what you're going to bake."
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"Like, I actually think about it."
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"Yesterday morning I was in the library, supposed to be researching George Eliot, and I caught myself wondering whether you'd make those little custard things again."
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"Canelés! That's what they're called."
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"Seriously, how do you remember all these names?"
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"Right. Culinary school."
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"Yeah, I walked into that one."
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"But they're amazing."
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"The crunchy outside, and then the middle's all soft and sort of..."
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"Custardy. Exactly."
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"See? You understand."
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"It's getting ridiculous, though."
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"I'm serious."
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"Because now whenever I smell something baking, I get this-feeling."
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"Not just hunger."
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"It's like..." (bites lip)
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"Okay, this is going to sound incredibly stupid."
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"It's like my brain finally shuts up."
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"You know?" (his eyes flick up to yours)
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"All day, there's this constant noise in my head. Deadlines. Grades. Whether I'm going to graduate. Whether my degree's going to be worth anything. Whether I'm going to spend the next thirty years explaining to people why I majored in English." (sighs)
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"And then...you start baking."
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"And everything inside my head-gets quiet." (his eyes flick to yours)
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"Suddenly I'm not thinking about my professor or my paper or how badly I screwed up my last presentation."
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"I'm thinking about butter."
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"And chocolate...or...vanilla" (his eyes flick away then back to yours)
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"And whatever ridiculous French thing you've decided to make this time."
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"It's comforting."
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"Really comforting."
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"Which brings me to the second thing."
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"Oh god." (runs hand through hair)
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"Okay."
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"Please don't laugh."
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"You promise?" (exhales)
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"Okay, well..."
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"I think I've...gained weight." (looks to you, looks away)
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"Yeah."
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"No, I mean, like, actually gained weight." (blushes)
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"A decent amount."
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"God, I can't believe I'm talking about this." (laughs, smiles nervously)
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"...Look."
...(you do and begin to stiffen)
"You know these sweatpants?"
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"Yeah, the gray ones."
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"I've had them since freshman year."
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"They used to fit me perfectly."
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"Like, practically falling off my hips unless I tied the drawstring."
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"Now?"
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"Look."
...(you're getting hard, barely hiding it)
"See how they're sitting?"
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"Yeah."
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"And this shirt?" (he spread his hands across his middle)
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"It's getting tight."
...(you exhale)
"No, really. Watch."
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"See?" (he lifts is, revealing a domed gut that wasn't there before, even during the times you've seen him walking out of the shower in only a towel)
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"That wasn't there at the beginning of the semester."
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"Yeah, that's my stomach."
...(you're hard now)
"Okay, don't look so surprised."
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"Actually, you don't look surprised at all."
...(you bite your lip)
"Huh."
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"That's interesting."
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"No, nothing. Just..."
...(your hand is over your crotch, hiding yourself)
"Have you noticed?"
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"You have?"
...(you nod)
"Oh."
...(you let your hand fall away)
"Wow."
...(the imprint of your cock is very telling)
"Okay."
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"That's..." (he blushes)
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"Honestly, I don't know how I feel about that."
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"Like, I've always been pretty average, you know? Not particularly muscular, not particularly skinny. Just sort of..."
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"Me."
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"And now I've got this little belly." (his eyes flick from yours to your cock straining in your pants)
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"Actually, it's not that little anymore."
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"God." (he places his hands under his shirt, raising it and presses is palms into his gut)
...(you groan)
"See what I mean?"
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"And my jeans..."
...(you wish he was wearing some so he could unzip them in front of you)
"Don't even get me started on my jeans."
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"I bought two pairs last semester. They're already uncomfortable."
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"Like, sitting through a two-hour seminar with the waistband digging into me? Absolutely miserable."
...(you'd kill to see that gut spilling out of them)
"Yeah, I know. I should buy bigger jeans."
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"It's just..."
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"I never thought I'd need to."
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"And the weird thing is, I'm not sure I even mind?"
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"That's the part that confuses me."
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"Because I know I've changed."
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"And I know why."
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"Or at least I think I do."
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"I mean, you're constantly making these incredible things, and I keep eating them."
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"And you keep offering me more."
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"Like that chocolate tart last weekend."
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"You cut me a slice."
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"Then you asked if I wanted another." (you palm yourself through your pants)
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"And then you brought me the rest while I was working."
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"Yeah, I ate it."
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"All of it." (his eyes flick from your face to your crotch)
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"Look, don't make that face. You know I did."
...(you smile knowingly)
"But I didn't feel guilty afterward."
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"That's the thing."
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"I actually felt..."
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"Happy." (he blushes)
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"Which is kind of ridiculous, right?"
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"It's just food."
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"But it's not really just food anymore."
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"It's this whole thing."
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"I smell something baking, and I know you're here." (he bites his lip, you see something small swell under his sweatpants)
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"I know you're in the kitchen doing whatever complicated French wizardry you do."
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"And I know, sooner or later, you're probably going to knock on my door with something warm and sweet."
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"Usually on one of those little plates."
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"Yeah. The blue ones."
...(you eye him hungrily)
"And you'll tell me you need someone to taste-test."
...(your dick twitches)
"Even though I'm pretty sure you already know whatever you've made is amazing."
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"Yeah?"
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"Practice for your exams?"
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"Sure."
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"Very convenient."
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"Actually, can I ask you something?"
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"Do you really need me to taste everything?"
...(your dick twitches, you feel precum leak from the tip)
"No, seriously."
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"Because I'm beginning to suspect I'm your favorite guinea pig."
...(an unmistakable moan escapes your lips)
"Oh, I am?"
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"Well."
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"That's..." (he blushes)
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"That's actually really nice."
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"Thanks."
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"Hey, what's in that bowl?"
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"Pastry cream?"
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"For what?"
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"Éclairs?"
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"Oh, my god."
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"Are you serious?"
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"You're making éclairs tonight?"
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"Chocolate?"
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"Of course they're chocolate."
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"God, you're evil."
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"What?"
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"No, I mean that affectionately."
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"Obviously."
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"Can I try some?"
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"Just the cream?"
... (you palm yourself through your pants, more precum leaks from your tip)
"Really?"
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"Okay."
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"Oh."
...(you moan softly, just for him)
"Oh, wow."
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"That's..."
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"Holy shit."
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"Sorry." (he moans, blushes, and you catch one another's eye. The big thing in the room still unspoken between you both)
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"No, that is ridiculously good."
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"You made that from scratch?"
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"Of course you did."
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"Can I have another taste?"
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"Thanks."
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"Okay, wow."
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"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about."
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"I came in here intending to have this serious conversation about my weight and my academic future."
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"And now I'm standing in your kitchen practically begging for pastry cream."
...(you want him to beg for something else, but don't push-not yet)
"God."
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"You really have ruined me."
...(your dick pulses once, twice)
"Hey..."
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"Can I ask you one more thing?"
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"Have you..."
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"Have you been looking at me differently lately?"
...(you nod)
"No, I don't mean in a bad way."
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"It's just..."
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"Sometimes when we're eating dinner, I catch you looking at me."
...(you palm yourself)
"Not like you're judging me."
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"More like..."
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"I don't know."
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"You're...smiling."
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"Like you're happy about something." (his eyes roam your crotch, then flick back up to meet yours)
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"And sometimes when I finish whatever you've baked, you get this really satisfied look on your face."
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"Like you've accomplished something."
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"Yeah."
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"That look."
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"Exactly that look."
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"God, you're doing it right now."
...(you let out a low groan)
"Can I ask what you're thinking?"
...(you're only partly honest. If he only knew your wicked mind...)
"You like seeing me happy?"
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"Oh."
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"Well..."
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"That's..."
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"That's really sweet."
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"Actually."
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"Really sweet."
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"God, now I'm blushing."
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"Okay, I should probably get back to my paper."
...(your dick is ready to burst)
"Yeah."
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"Absolutely."
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"Just..."
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"When are those éclairs going to be ready?"
...(you stop palming yourself, you'll cum in your pants of you continue)
"Twenty minutes?"
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"Okay."
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"Could you maybe bring me one?"
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"Or two?"
...(is he teasing you now?)
"Fine. Three."
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"Don't laugh."
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"Okay, seriously, I'm going."
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"Thanks for listening."
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"And for the pastry cream."
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"And for..."
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"Everything, I guess."
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"Hey?"
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"One last thing."
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"When you bring those éclairs..."
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"Could you stay for a little while?"
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"Just keep me company while I work?"
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"Yeah?"
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"Cool."
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"I'd really like that."
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(you wait until he leaves. There's 19 minutes left on the timer. You head into your room and unzip your pants...)
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