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“Okay, what’s this one?”
“This is useless. Chuck, I’m –”
“If you say you’re terrible at this again, Becket, I swear to god – ”
“...Just don’t get it on my face this time.”
“Aww,” Yancy hears Chuck’s voice right in front of him, “you’re no fun.”
Before he has time to protest, he feels fingers nudging gently at his lips.
“Open up.”
Yancy does and proceeds to chew whatever it is Chuck pushes into his mouth carefully, trusting his boyfriend but dreading a repeat of two tries ago. Whatever Chuck gave him this time is soft, though, and slightly sour.
“That’s a blueberry.”
“Wrong.”
“Again?” Yancy grumbles, only barely resisting the urge to tug the blindfold off his face. Chuck laughs, and Yancy can practically feel the glee radiating off him. Chuck’s clearly having fun in spite of (or because of) Yancy’s ineptness and frustration, and that’s enough for Yancy to suck it up. There’d better be a reward at the end, he thinks.
“You’re relying too much on taste, Yance.”
“I’m blindfolded.”
He hears Chuck let out a drawn out sigh. “Here,” the fingers are back at his lips again, “now don’t just chew it immediately. What’s it feel like? Soft or hard? Is it juicy? Is it smooth? Think about the texture, the mouthfeel.”
Yancy, mentally protesting against the existence of the word ‘mouthfeel’, lets the fruit – because he knows that much – roll around on his tongue for a bit. It’s got a textured surface, and it’s very soft, almost squishy. There’s a hole at what he assumes is the top. Ah. He chews, and swallows.
“Raspberry.”
“Very good,” Chuck purrs, and suddenly there’s hands on either side of him and lips planted against his own. Finally, he thinks, wanting to melt into it, but Chuck pulls back before he has the chance.
“Nuh-uh,” Chuck’s voice indicates he’s turned around, “not until you get at least two more right.”
“Babe,” Yancy whines. He knows he won’t win this, though – Chuck is serious about food and serious about games.
Chuck’s back in his face suddenly – really, this blindfold is getting annoying – and by the sound of he’s tapping his fingers against a glass of water.
“Cleanse your palate,” he says in a sing-song voice. Yancy makes a biting motion at him, teeth snapping together loudly, eliciting another laugh from Chuck. While he’s drinking the water, he can hear Chuck starting to rummage around for more food to offer as a sample. He’s going to have to get creative if he ever wants to get rid of this blindfold – Chuck’s having way too much fun with this to even consider stopping, probably.
“Hey,” Yancy says when he hears Chuck close a cupboard almost on the other side of the kitchen, “you should come a little closer.”
“Oh really,” Chuck sounds unimpressed, “‘cause I’m awful busy over here.”
“Too busy to entertain your boyfriend?”, Yancy gasps, covering his mouth with his hand in mock-shock.
“I’m plenty entertained,” Chuck’s voice is closer though, back in front of him. “Alright. If you don’t guess this one, we’re getting a divorce.”
“We’re not married.”
“Shut up. Say ‘ah’.”
“That’s contradicto—mmrh!”
Chuck’s all but shoves a spoonful of something or other into his mouth. Yancy’s slightly taken aback by the sudden change from bite sized pieces of fruit and nuts, but he recovers quickly and smirks when he recognizes the substance.
“Cookie butter.”
“Oh thank fuck,” Chuck says, “you’re not completely hopeless then.”
“You’re just making this easy on me now because deep down you really wanna kiss me.”
Chuck scoffs, but not moments later Yancy can feel him leaning in. Moving quickly, Yancy somewhat miraculously manages to get his fingers into the belt loops on Chuck’s jeans, albeit at a bit of an awkward angle. Chuck lets out a noise of surprise before Yancy crushes their lips together. He tilts his head and gently licks at Chuck’s mouth before he has a chance to pull away again.
“Yance,” Chuck half-heartedly protests through Yancy’s kisses, “no food sex.”
“Stop feeding me then,” Yancy mumbles, reaching back and yanking the blindfold off.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yancy’s pretty sure Chuck would’ve broken in the whipped cream next and that would’ve been interesting, but as Chuck cups his thighs to lift him up on the countertop and settles between his legs, he can’t bring himself to mourn the loss all that much.