100 Candles omake, yay. Kenny teaches Jeff the Japanese words for various kinds of fruit. Guess how. (M/M, not smut but sure leads up to it)
Kenny picks up the visual aid: deep ripe red, dotted with tiny seeds, a little skirt of green leaves at the fat end. He holds it up for a few seconds, so I can see what an ichigo is, then touches the tip to my lips. I never really got that whole thing about strawberries and sex before. Now I think I'm starting to understand.
If he'd suggested this to me in so many words beforehand, I probably would have laughed at him and told him I wasn't into that--no pun intended--fruity stuff. Well, I'm not. Silk scarves, fuzzy handcuffs, bubble baths, playing with food--I've never really cared about stuff like that. But when Kenny said something about teaching me a few new Japanese words and told me to wait for him in the bedroom while he ran to the store, and when he joined me up there half an hour later with a big platter of fruit, well, it was a little too late to say "no thanks."
Now I'm kind of glad I didn't. Actually, I'm really glad I didn't.
There's no more strawberry I can eat without getting a mouthful of leaves. That would be neither tasty nor sexy, so Kenny sets the leafy bit off to the edge of the tray, pauses to lick stray drops of strawberry juice off his fingers, and picks up something else. A little black globe, with a little velvety mist of condensation on its skin.
He lets his fingertip trail along my lower lip after he lets go of the grape. I bite down slowly, just in case there's a seed. There doesn't seem to be one, so I chew. The absence of a seed doesn't make me chew any faster, and I don't take my eyes off Kenny the whole time. Not until I swallow, and then only because Kenny is pulling my shirt over my head and off.
"Got a juicy one for you." He flips my shirt somewhere over by the window.
"I bet you do." I grab the hem of his T-shirt (Support Your Local Medical Examiner: Die Strangely) and tug it up and off. His shirt joins mine over by the window, and he laughs and reaches for the plate again.
He's cut this one in half and neatly scooped out the pit with a melon baller or something, which I appreciate. I never liked the looks of those pits. They kind of look like little brown brains to me. They're the ugly little secret buried inside a ball of delicious golden flesh.
He holds the half-a-peach to my lips, pulls it back just a little when I go to bite it so I end up nuzzling its fuzzy skin.
"Tease," I murmur. That earns me a laugh and the half-a-peach brought back into biting range. True to Kenny's word, it's a juicy one. A runner of sweet juice dribbles from the peach and down my chin as I bite and before I can do anything about it myself, Kenny darts in and sweeps it away with a quick flick of his tongue. He leans back before I can catch him at it, before I can even turn my head to line my mouth up with his. He pretends to not even notice (although that tiny impish grin kind of gives him away) and sets what's left of the peach back on the plate.
"What else you got there?" I ask him, even though I can see perfectly well what he hasn't offered me yet. He's saved the best for last.
"Now this one's really hard," Kenny warns me, reaching for the plate one more time.
I raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He picks up the next exhibit and grins like he's about to say something I'm going to want to swat him for. "Banana."
"You're shitting me."
Kenny just laughs and holds it up for me to bite. But I figure since he went to the trouble to cut the banana into a long enough piece for me to do some outlandishly suggestive things with, and since he went to the further trouble of offering me not the flat cut end but the tapered tip, I might as well take advantage of that before I make it disappear. Kenny's breath quickens a little when the tip of my tongue traces a little slow circle around the tip of the banana and catches when I let it slide between my lips.
It's the dumbest food-sex cliche in the book, the banana blowjob, right up there with fellating popsicles and corn dogs and whatever, I know. I know and the only thing keeping me from busting out laughing is the way Kenny's watching me, the way he kind of wriggles and shifts on the bed, looking like he's just getting a little more comfortable and totally not acknowledging that brief but definite air-humping thing he does with his hips while he settles back in.
I consider going the supremely silly route and making a big show of biting into the banana, complete with bared teeth and "om nom nom" noises, and decide against it for now. Instead, I just pull half the banana into my mouth, gently tug it free of Kenny's fingers, and lean forward to offer him the other end.
Kenny makes some soft sound, a low little growl deep in his throat, and eases me onto my back while he works on his end. Fortunately, when banana gives way to tongue, we both remember to stop chewing. Well, I do. Kenny just goes looking for something else to chew and finds my bottom lip.
"Any more words you want to teach me?" I ask when he lets go.
He just grins and pops the top button of my jeans open. "Not unless you want to learn some you shouldn't say in public."
"Are you kidding?" I grin right back, gently scoot the plate out of the way with my foot, and reach for his belt buckle. "Those are the best ones."