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“Well,” Eddie drawls as he leans against the door jamb, taking in the sight before him. “Good morning, and happy birthday to me.” Buck looks at him, blue eyes growing a little wide as he startles at Eddie’s words.
Buck’s hands are holding a piping bag full of honey-colored frosting just above a cake round, with smears of the frosting and other miscellaneous ingredients drying on the apron tied loosely around Buck’s sleep shirt. Buck’s blond curls are still frazzled from sleep, glowing slightly from the dawn light slithering through the half-open blinds in the kitchen.
“Eddie,” Buck says, and a small frown forms on his face. “I thought you’d be asleep for longer,” Buck grumbles, a little put-out about Eddie’s early rising and subsequent failure to keep the cake a secret for longer. Eddie can’t help it, he stayed in bed for about fifteen minutes after waking up and finding the side Buck sleeps on empty before he went to see the blond.
Sue him, he enjoys spending his mornings with his boyfriend.
“You were gone, and I got bored scrolling through the news. Nothing fun on there, and I’d rather spend time with you,” Eddie shrugs his shoulders and pushes off the door jamb so he can make his way to Buck. Buck looks a little dejected about not being able to finish the cake before Eddie wakes up, but his smile brightens when Eddie lays a soft kiss on his cheek. “Good morning, mi vida,” Eddie whispers, staring at the gentle flush that colors the highs of Buck’s cheeks—Eddie wants to sink his teeth into them.
“G’morning, Eddie,” Buck says and kisses Eddie on the lips, tasting sweet when Eddie licks at his lips. Buck huffs and pulls away, tongue lapping at his own lips to chase the spots Eddie licked at. “Don’t think of trying to guess your cake flavor by kissing me, mister,” Buck points a flat spatula at him, and Eddie raises his hands, looking like the pinnacle of innocence.
“I would do no such thing,” Eddie says, but he’s lying. He totally would. He’s done it before, and Buck has learned from Eddie’s past attempts. “I’m a patient man, I can wait,” Eddie says, like he’s trying to convince himself—seriously, whenever it comes to patience, Eddie is almost always your guy. However, when it comes to Buck’s baking? Eddie will swipe raw dough like a professional thief. He’s not proud of it, but he’s been chased out of the kitchen more than once for his sleight hands swiping too much cookie dough.
“Uh-huh,” Buck drawls, obviously not believing a word out of Eddie’s mouth. Eddie smiles to himself and moves to plaster himself along Buck’s back, hugging him around the waist and sneaking his hands underneath the dirty apron and Buck’s sleep shirt to pet at the soft skin there. Buck shivers slightly, but melts into Eddie as he hooks his chin on Buck’s shoulder, watching him pipe big piles of frosting out on the cake round, which Eddie is pretty sure is called a crumb coat. Or maybe it’s the crumb coat he’s frosting over; it’s one of them… he thinks.
Don’t quote Eddie on that, but he swears Buck has mentioned that before.
Honey-colored frosting sits on top of the cake in two large piles as Buck places the piping bag off to the side on a paper towel, thankfully not getting frosting all over the table. Eddie stares at the beautiful frosting, one hand creeping out from under Buck’s shirt to reach for a taste.
However, before he can even get close at all, Buck brings the flat spatula he just picked up down on Eddie’s hand gently. Eddie jerks with a grunt and shakes out his hand. “Ow,” Eddie huffs, turning his head to stare at Buck, who looks very unimpressed with his thievery. “How dare you?” Eddie grumbles, glaring without heat at Buck for the smack. “It’s my birthday, can’t I have a little taste?”
“Well, yes, you can,” Buck says, and then brandishes the spatula when Eddie tries to go for another swipe. “But only after I’m done. You can have all the frosting you want after that, so I don’t need to whip up another batch of it after you’ve somehow eaten half of it.” Buck’s eyes narrow, and Eddie can’t help the smile that glides onto his face.
He will admit that he has once eaten half the batch of cookie dough, so much so that Buck had to make another half batch. Eddie had to be sent out to grab a few of the ingredients they no longer had, and to think of his actions on his way to and back from the store.
Eddie did not feel any guilt, but he was not allowed one of the baked cookies until Buck had finished baking all of them; his punishment was to sit in a house that smelled divine and not be able to have any of the cookies for hours.
Eddie became more relaxed with his cookie dough thievery from then on—sometimes, Buck would scoop out a ball of dough or two just for Eddie to stave off his attempts to get more. It’s a good exchange they have going on, and Eddie and his sweet tooth benefit greatly. However, he would like to have some cake, or even a taste of frosting, on his birthday, and he’s not too keen on waiting.
Eddie tries to go for a subtle swipe, but Buck swats his hand away with a huff. “Would you be patient for once?” Buck grumbles, eyes never straying from the cake as he gently works the frosting around to coat the top and sides, flat spatula gliding back and forth in impressive and practiced movements.
“But it looks so good,” Eddie grumbles, mourning the third failed attempt, and shaking out his stinging hand. “You did an amazing job, and I can’t wait to taste it,” Eddie hums, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to Buck’s neck. Buck’s shoulder jumps slightly underneath his chin, a soft whine vibrating against Eddie’s lips. Buck’s neck has always been sensitive, and Eddie may be using that information to his advantage.
“S-Stop trying to butter me up, Diaz,” Buck grumbles, a little breathless. “It’s not working. You’re just going to have to wait for a taste.” Buck waggles the spatula in his direction threateningly, and Eddie slumps, grumbling softly as he keeps his head on Buck’s shoulders.
“This house is a nightmare,” Eddie grouses with no heat behind it, shaking his head as he brings his hand back to rest it on Buck’s hip, fitting his digits into the softness there. “Can’t even get a taste of frosting on my birthday. You’re a cruel, cruel man, Evan Buckley,” Eddie bemoans—he can’t even have a taste of his own cake on his birthday before they cut it later.
Buck chuckles softly, shaking his head as he begins to smooth the frosting around the sides, using the turntable that Eddie bought him a few months ago when Buck complained about frosting a cake for May’s birthday being the most annoying thing he did when he had to turn the thing by hand on a cardboard round.
It’s mesmerizing to watch, and Eddie has always enjoyed watching Buck work in the kitchen. Despite the occasional flailing limb, Buck works like a well-oiled machine, humming and singing softly underneath his breath to whatever is playing on his playlist. Sometimes, when they have days off, and Eddie has nowhere to be, he’ll sit in the kitchen with Buck, helping occasionally whenever the task Buck has taken on takes more hands than he has—he’ll knead bread dough shoulder to shoulder with Buck, following the fold and knead pattern Buck is doing, or ladle muffin batter into the cups and top them with the little crumbles. It’s things Eddie’s inability to cook—which, he is getting better at, but it’s still a bit of a work in progress—can’t fuck up.
“What are you doing right now?” Eddie asks, voice barely above a soft hum. He extracts one hand from Buck’s waist to push his hair out of his face before returning it, enjoying the domesicity of sticking himself to Buck’s back and watching him work. He can’t typically do this because Buck flits around the kitchen like a little buzzing bee, pulling things out of the fridge, loading the dishwasher—even though Eddie normally tackles the dishes—or putting dough in the fridge to rest while he works on other things. Now, though, this languid morning can be spent plastered to Buck’s back, groping his sides—because Buck is soft, perfect, and Eddie cannot keep his damn hands off his boyfriend—and watching Buck in his element.
“I’m frosting over the crumb coat. The crumb coat is to fill any holes or fix any imperfections on the cake so I can have a smooth area to work on. It’s like sanding and priming something before you paint it,” Buck mumbles back, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he works his wrist back and forth, smoothing everything down. “If I didn’t do a crumb coat, I could drag up crumbs and have an uneven finish to the buttercream.” Eddie raises an eyebrow, impressed at all the attention to detail Buck has put into his birthday cake. It makes something warm and gooey bubble in Eddie’s core, a smile playing on his lips.
“Once you’re done frosting the cake, what else are you doing?” Eddie asks, eyeing the half-full piping bag of buttercream. Eddie squeezes Buck’s sides gently and presses impossibly closer, watching Buck scrape off the extra frosting with the spatula before depositing it into the bowl of buttercream.
Buck hums softly, the vibration reverberating through Eddie’s chest. “I’m just going to pipe a few little decorations. Maybe just a simple design around the edges and top. I still have to work on my intricate piping designs, so nothing fancy.” Buck’s blue eyes skirt to Eddie, a little smile on his face. Eddie smiles back and kisses Buck’s cheek.
“It looks delicious already, mi sol,” Eddie rumbles, “Don’t go crazy trying to make it perfect for me, okay? I know how you get sometimes,” Eddie presses another kiss to Buck’s cheek, watching Buck’s eyes flutter shut, long lashes drooping. Eddie smiles and moves his hand away from Buck’s hip to try to grab at the buttercream bowl, but Buck’s hand comes down to snatch his around the wrist, disappointment clear in those gleaming blue eyes.
“You are awful, Eddie,” Buck shakes his head, “Awful! You are worse than Chris! Do I need to grab the wooden spoon again? I will chase you out of here, Mr. Birthday Boy,” Buck’s narrow eyes pin Eddie, who huffs nervously. “Seriously, wait like thirty more minutes, and you can have it, okay? You are so bad, Diaz.”
Eddie huffs and grumbles, letting Buck forcefully return his hand to the blond’s hip. “Can’t even get a taste of my cake,” Eddie sighs with as much drama as he can put behind it, watching Buck crack a smile. Eddie can totally wait out the thirty or so minutes it takes for Buck to pipe the decorations and gussy up the cake to his liking, but he likes annoying Buck. It’s one of his favorite pastimes, honestly; he likes pushing Buck’s buttons.
But, alas, all his attempts have been thwarted, and he likes being in the kitchen with Buck. He doesn’t want to be chased out because he wants a taste of his cake.
But he can get a taste of a different cake…
The realization hits Eddie, and a soft, sly smirk plays on his lips as Buck scrapes off a few more bits of butterscream, making sure the layer of the frosting is level. If he can’t have this cake, he can have the other kind.
Win-win, really.
Eddie carefully pulls back from Buck’s back, squeezing his hips as he does so. Buck looks back at him, but he isn’t diving for the frosting bowl, so Buck regards him with a little less suspicion and more curiosity. Eddie steps back a few feet, looking like he’s about to head out of the kitchen, so Buck’s eyes fall back to the cake and his baking area. It gives Eddie the perfect opening to grasp the waistband of Buck’s sweatpants and boxers and tug them down in one fell swoop as he crouches down behind the blond. Buck squeaks as his ass is exposed, along with the long, pale lines of the back of his thighs. “E-Eddie, what are you doing?!” Buck hisses, a blush rising to his cheeks when Eddie looks up at him.
Eddie frames Buck’s beautiful ass with his hands, groping the globes and squishing the ample flesh in his palms. “Getting a taste,” Eddie says as he pulls Buck’s asscheeks apart to lick a long stripe up Buck’s ass, groaning softly. “Can’t have one cake, so I’ll settle for the other.”
“E-Eddie wh-what the he-oonnnhhh, fu-fuck,” Buck’s voice breaks halfway through his hissed whispers, a sweet moan leaving his lips as Eddie twirls his tongue around Buck’s hole, putting pressure on the tight furl. One of Buck’s hands desperately grips the table edge while the other scrambles to push the cake away if the sounds are anything to go by. Eddie doesn’t bother paying too much attention to it, instead focusing on lapping at Buck’s hole, getting it wet with the spit that drools from his mouth.
Buck’s thighs have already begun to tremble—as they always do when Eddie rims the blond—and his soft keens float in the golden light that pours through the windows. “Ed-Eddie,” Buck whispers, the soft cock between his legs filling with blood as Eddie rims him with all the eager gusto he was saving for his actual birthday cake. “Y-You’re terrible,” Buck whines, “S-So terrible.” Buck hiccups a soft moan, leaning forward as his hands brace hastily on the table, giving Eddie better access to his spit-slick hole.
Eddie groans, groping Buck’s asscheeks—dios mio, Eddie loves Buck’s ass, he loves grabbing it, groping it, and squishing it—and dimpling the flesh with his fingers as he laves his tongue around the tight, spit-slick hole in front of him.
Eddie pulls back for a scarce moment, getting his breath back, lungs burning in his heaving chest. “You say I’m terrible,” Eddie murmurs, opening his mouth to catch a spot of Buck’s asscheek between his teeth to bite at it, watching Buck jerk as his teeth marks bloom red into the pale flesh. “But your body is telling me a whole different story.” One of Eddie’s hands crawls around Buck’s waist, taking his hard cock in his hand and giving the throbbing shaft a soft squeeze and lazy pump. Buck’s entire body trembles, a desperate, wordless moan leaving his mouth.
Eddie drops Buck’s cock, knowing the blond will cum from getting his ass eaten, letting the precum-slick cockhead stain the inside of the apron. “Oh my— Oh m-my god,” Buck whimpers, voice crackling as his toes curl, and his body trembles as Eddie continues to lap at Buck’s hole, swirling his tongue around in the pattern that he knows gets Buck going. “A-Aren’t I su-supposed to be m-making you fe—ffuuuckkk—feel good?” Buck gasps, white-knuckling the edge of the table as his moans warble in the back of his throat.
Eddie hums, rolling the idea over in his head—yeah, usually the birthday person would be the one feeling good, but Eddie doesn’t work that way; he gets off on giving Buck pleasure, and if he wants to eat his boyfriend out on his birthday, he will.
Buck’s breath hitches when Eddie tugs his asscheeks apart before pressing the tip of his tongue into the tight pucker, fucking Buck’s ass with his tongue in short, sharp movements before he returns to lapping at it. “S-Should’a… s-ssucked your dick while you were asleep,” Buck gasps, the sound of his nails scratching against the table echoing over the sloppy sounds of Eddie eating him out. “Wo-Woulda ke-kept you asleep.”
Eddie’s cock throbs at the idea of being sucked off while he’s asleep, waking up to Buck’s head bobbing in his lap, taking his cock down to the root. Buck’s long since trained his gag reflex away, and deepthroats Eddie with eager glee at any chance he can get; though, they usually have to do it during their 48-offs, lest the team worry about the reason Buck’s voice is shot.
The last time that happened, Chimney sent Buck home, worried he was sick. Buck couldn’t argue, or say the real reason was I sucked my boyfriend’s dick too hard and deepthroated him, and it fucked up my voice, so Buck spent a day at home sulking. Eddie woke him up from his nap by fucking him, making Buck’s mood a lot better.
“Does that keep me asleep?” Eddie asks, his voice a drawn rasp as he licks his lips and pulls back to get air. Eddie isn’t the heaviest sleeper, but he’s learned to stay asleep when Buck moves around on the bed. He does sometimes wake up when Buck gets out of bed and doesn’t return. It’s like his body knows his boyfriend has exited the bed, and that Eddie should go look for him and pester him into coming back to bed, or staying up to keep Buck company.
“U-Uh-huh,” Buck moans, bobbling his head in a weak nod. “Y-You sleep like a rock,” Buck admits, breath hitching in his chest when Eddie presses his thumb against Buck’s hole, rubbing his spit all along the sensitive rim. “Woulda kept you asleep w-while I decorated your cake.” Eddie snickers at how disgruntled Buck sounds, grinning lazily.
“You can do it later if you still want you,” Eddie says, and grins a little wider at Buck’s huffy whine. Still, Buck makes no movement to bat Eddie away from his ass, his cock hard and dripping between quivering thighs.
“E-Eddie, the cake-“ Buck groans as Eddie licks a fat stripe from his taint to his hole, hands groping the jiggly asscheeks framing his face. Buck gasps out a sound, perhaps a word, but they die on his tongue as Eddie swirls his tongue around Buck’s hole, prodding at it with his tongue and fucking it open slowly.
“Shh, it’ll be okay, amor,” Eddie soothes, pulling one hand away from Buck’s ass to pet it up and down Buck’s leg, squeezing the muscular thigh in comfort. “Just enjoy this, ‘kay?” Eddie hums, licking his lips and chasing the taste of Buck before he dives back in like a starved man. Buck groans softly, cock throbbing and pulsing between his legs, making a mess of his apron. Precum soaks into the fabric, drooling from Buck’s pink tip.
Eddie fucks his tongue into Buck’s hole, fingers sinking into Buck’s asscheeks to pry them apart, lapping like a desperate man. Buck’s moans stay quiet, but they crackle and sweeten over time as Eddie works his tight hole open. Buck gasps out soft E-Eddie’s and wanton sounds, pushing his ass back into Eddie’s tongue.
Eddie’s cock throbs in his pants, hard and heavy in his loose sweats and boxers. He loves hearing how good he’s making Buck feel, as it makes him feel good—it’s a constant feedback loop of delicious, unadulterated pleasure ping-ponging back and forth.
Buck’s trembling thighs quake harder as Eddie continues to eat him out and fuck his tongue into a spit-slick hole, no doubt making a mess of the back of his apron. “I-I’m g-guun…a,” Buck groans, a sob of pleasure breaking through. It floats in the air that smells like sweet treats and a bit like sex. “Ed-Eddie, I-I’m go-,” Buck starts, but his words break off when his body clenches tight, tight like the string of a drawn bow as he cums.
Buck’s orgasm shakes his whole body, whimpers and whispered keens floating from his mouth as he tries to keep them stifled. Eddie groans into Buck’s ass, adding to the pleasure, and ripping a sob from Buck’s mouth. He continues to slowly fuck his tongue in and out of Buck’s ass while also licking at the rim of Buck’s hole, working him through his orgasm.
A minute later, Buck whines and hisses, pushing at Eddie’s head. Twitching fingers tangle with his hair, tugging his head away from Buck’s hole. “To-Too much,” Buck pants, face flushed and ruined as Eddie rocks back on his heels.
Licking his lips and using his shirt collar to wipe at his mouth, Eddie stands up slowly, cock hard in his pants as Buck leans heavily against the table edge. The inside of his apron is coated in his cum, and his cock flags against his thigh. Eddie looks at him, watching lust-dark eyes gaze at him through tear-clumped flaxen lashes, a deep flush on apple cheeks. He’s gorgeous. “Pretty,” Eddie mutters, sliding an arm around Buck’s waist to drag him into a kiss. Buck moans, one hand crawling between their chests to grasp weakly at Eddie’s shirt as Buck tastes himself on Eddie’s exploring tongue.
Eddie pulls away, placing their foreheads together and kissing Buck one last time before he leans down to pull Buck’s boxers and sweatpants back up, careful with Buck’s sensitive cock. Then, once Buck is leaning against the table, flushed and loose after an orgasm, Eddie goes for the frosting bowl one more time.
He swipes a thick glob off the edge of the bowl, dodging out of the way of Buck’s too-slow hand, and races out of the kitchen, savoring the cream and honey buttercream as he heads to the bathroom to take a shower.
In the kitchen, Buck hisses at him, “Did you do all of that just to get a taste of the frosting?! Eddie! Seriously?” His voice is shaky, and he sounds breathless and incredulous as Eddie laughs to himself, shutting the bathroom door behind him.
He totally did do all of that just to get a taste of the frosting, but he isn’t going to confirm or deny it to Buck.
Eddie has a feeling Buck already knows the answer, because he can hear Buck’s huffy grumbles through the bathroom wall before his voice is drowned out by the shower turning on.