Latkes and Lust
By: Tagsit
The noise of cookware clanking together on the stove was so loud as he walked through the door that Brian didn’t think the sound of the loft door thudding shut registered. Even the annoying Christmas carols playing in the background were drowned out by the commotion that had taken over his formerly pristine kitchen. Brian quietly hung up his coat and set his gym bag by the door, trying not to draw the busy chef’s attention before he’d had a chance to figure out exactly what was going on.
The first thing he noted was the overwhelming mess. It looked like every single one of their big metal mixing bowls was scattered around the kitchen. Brian could also see that the big metal colander, the food processor, several knives and hand graters as well as every skillet and griddle they owned was currently in use. Every one of these items was covered with scraps of some kind of food-like substance. So were all the counters, large sections of the floor and at least two of the bar stools.
The originator of this nightmarish mess was currently hovering over the stove with his back to the door, completely oblivious to the fact that he now had a spectator. Brian took a moment to admire the vision he was presented with. The crazy little blond chef was wearing only a pair of slinky boxer briefs and a long black apron that covered his front side. His only other apparel was the bulky oven mitt on his left hand. His hair was a messy mop of blond that was standing up in strange swirls all over his head. There seemed to be a smear of something gloppy and brown on the pale ivory shoulder as well as a few other splatters of goop on what Brian could see of the boy’s cheek.
Right at that moment, the intrepid cook’s attention was totally consumed by whatever was in the big cast iron skillet on the stove in front of him as he prodded at the pan with a slotted spatula. The air was redolent with the odor of frying onions and the crackling of whatever was in the pan was loud enough that it added to the cacophony of chaos. Justin, however, seemed perfectly happy with the pandemonium he’d created as he hummed happily along with the holiday tunes and tapped his toes to the beat.
Before Brian could announce his arrival, the happy chef stepped away from the stove, set aside his spatula, pulled open the door of the oven and quickly transferred something from a plate covered with a padding of paper towels to a rack on a baking sheet nestled in the heated interior. Then he moved back to his skillet and his spatula, scooped up one of whatever he had in the pan, and plopped the delicious-smelling something onto the now empty plate. Finally, once he’d removed everything in the skillet, the boy took up one of the bowls that had been waiting on the counter nearby and spooned up a dollop of the gooey mess, plopping that down into the bubbling pan and causing an immediate sizzle of grease.
“Owww!” the chef jumped back as a tiny spray of hot oil shot up out of the pan and hit the unprotected arm holding the spoon full of gloop. Of course, that resulted in the spoon dropping onto the floor and a combination of gloop and grease flying everywhere, liberally coating the cabinets, the appliances and the floor with more of the mess. “Shit!” the messy chef mumbled as he picked up the spoon and turned to toss it behind him into the sink.
Which is when the plucky culinary artist finally noticed that he had an audience.
“Brian . . . Hey! I didn’t think you’d be home for a while yet.” Justin looked around him at the unprecedented mess and then back at Brian with a guilty grin. “I swear I’ll clean all this up. It looks worse than it is.” The nervous little chef bit at his full bottom lip as he wiped his hands off on the skirt of this apron - which just happened to be the one Debbie had given to Justin for Christmas, bearing the text ‘I 
“Guess you lost track of time then, didn’t you Sunshine,” Brian commented, pressing the button on his phone and turning it around to show the display that clearly indicated it was already 5:28pm.
“Shit! I didn’t know it was that late! This took a lot longer than I thought it would. I’m really sorry,” Justin apologized with an adorable crinkling of his nose that Brian had always found impossible to ignore even though he’d never admit it aloud to anyone.
“What the fuck is all this shit this anyway,” Brian asked, trying to ignore the fact that he’d just thought the word ‘adorable’ with regard to the boy.
“Mel gave me her Babushka’s recipe for Latkes. I thought I’d try to make some since it’s the last night of Hanukkah. Well, that and I was craving them ever since I had some the other day at the girls’ house.” Justin explained as he returned his attention to the pan of spitting, splattering whatever on the stovetop. “I’d never tried to make them myself. I had no idea how much of a mess they’d make. They’re really, REALLY yummy though. I’ve kinda been nibbling as I went.” The chef flipped over whatever was in his pan, adding a few drops of additional oil from the cruet that had been waiting nearby, and causing a renewed hissing from the hot pan.
Brian cautiously walked further into the maelstrom of the kitchen, peering over the tiny chef’s shoulder at whatever was going on below. The pan held four golden-brown patties that looked a lot like hash browns but which smelled even more wonderful. While Brian watched, his personal chef sprinkled on a pinch of spices from a small, shallow bowl - what looked like a mixture of salt, pepper, something green and a few dried chives - over the crisp looking patties. The aroma of the dish deepened and became even more mouth-watering.
Pushing Brian out of the way by bumping back against him with his plump posterior, Justin moved around so that he could do the thing with transferring whatever was on the plate to the oven. Upon closer inspection, Brian could see that the plate held four of the patties which had been sitting on the paper towelling so that the excess grease could drain away. Inside the oven were several racks with already completed patties, all being kept warm. As soon as the latkes on the plate were added to those already in the oven, Justin was able to scoop out the now-cooked ones from the skillet. And then the whole process started over again as the boy used a new spoon to ladle four new scoops of gloop from a bowl into the sizzling frying pan.
Once this process was completed, the spunky little chef turned around and smiled his bright, sunshiney smile up at his partner. “Hope you’re hungry, cause I didn’t realize that Mel’s bubba’s recipe was enough to feed a large jewish family along with all their friends and neighbors. We’re going to be eating latkes for about a week, I think. Either that or we’re going to have to invite over everyone we know to help us.”
The giggle that accompanied this announcement once again brought to mind that fucking word ‘adorable’. Brian was momentarily distracted from his mental slip up, though, by the overwhelmingly beautiful look of sheer happiness that was radiating out from the younger man’s countenance. How was it possible that one, relatively small, person, was able to encompass so much enthusiasm, joy and outright liveliness? And, even more unfathomable, how did he manage to make Brian feel those previously alien emotions at the same time?
Before Brian even knew what hit him, that beauty had reeled him in again. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried as he leaned down and captured the perfectly pink lips with his own. The boy tasted like salt and spices and even the faint taste of onions and potatoes only made Brian want to eat him up faster. Justin didn’t resist for even a heartbeat - he never did - his lithe body melting against Brian’s even faster than the batter he’d spooned into the frying pan had melted into the cooking oil. As Brian’s tongue licked along the deliciousness of the boy’s pouty bottom lip, Justin raised his arms, circling the taller man’s neck so that he could pull him down for better kissing possibilities. Unfortunately, he still had his potato-egg-spice-gloopy spoon in his hand when he did this, and the entire side of Brian’s face instantly became coated in the sticky mixture.
“Sunshine . . . If this is your idea of some new-fangled skin care regime, I’m really not impressed,” Brian complained, cringing as part of the lumpy mess dripped slimily down his chin.
“Mmmmmm!” was the boy’s only response as he licked up the dribbles that made it all the way to Brian’s lips.
“Fuck, Sunshine!” Brian couldn’t resist the tickling of that wicked little tongue as it glided from his lips, across his cheek and down the sensitive column of his neck.
That was really all it took to get Brian cooking. He pulled the drippy spoon out of Justin’s hand, flung it across the room and then shoved the naughty little chef backward until Justin’s back slammed against the cool stainless steel face of the refrigerator. Then, with a feral growl, Brian pounced on the voluptuous chef, biting and sucking at any piece of skin he could reach with his hungry mouth, while the boy being eaten alive moaned out his approval of their revised dinner plans.
Even with his back pressed firmly against the appliance behind him, Justin continued to squirm and writhe against Brian, doing nothing to cool the man’s inflamed libido. Brian found the jeans he was wearing were becoming uncomfortably tight but he couldn’t seem to pull his hands away from where they were roaming over the temptingly soft alabaster skin. Luckily, the blond chef was already scrabbling frantically at the buttons of Brian’s clothing in an attempt to help him out of the horrible predicament while his mouth was busy sipping thirstily along the tanned neck.
Before long - thank fuck - Brian’s shirt had been stripped off him and the boy was slithering down to take care of the pants. Brian leaned his head forward until it was resting against the cool metal of the fridge, hoping the chill would help rein in the ardor a bit before he lost it completely. Unfortunately, the way Justin was mouthing at his cock through the denim of his jeans wasn’t helping relieve his overheated desire. Brian was only seconds away from cumming in his pants like a fucking schoolboy when the kid finally managed to undo all the buttons and peel away the restrictive fabric. Then the crazy little sprite crawled through Brian’s legs, grabbed hold of the slender hips and forcefully spun Brian around so that he was the one slammed up against the vibrating appliance.
Brian might have complained about the rough handling if he hadn’t been immediately distracted by the way the boy proceeded to climb up him like he was a tree, biting and licking and sucking as he rose, until that evil tongue was again lapping at his throat. And, while the talented tongue was tasting him, the younger man’s hands were also busy down below, stroking and pulling and fondling at Brian’s already ridiculously ready cock. Not that his lust needed any further stimulation. In fact, the only thing that Brian really needed right then was for the tasty chef to bend over.
Which is precisely what Brian proceeded to effect.
With an animalistic rumble, Brian cinched his arms around the smaller man’s body, picked him up off his feet carried him the meter and a half across to the other side of the kitchen. Once there, he dropped the boy to his feet and spun Justin around, pushing him forward until the comely cook was flush against the kitchen island. After that it took only moments for Brian to bend and yank down the boy’s briefs, leaving him clad only in the provocative but barely there apron as Brian bent the boy over the counter.
A quick fumble in the top drawer unearthed one of Brian’s always-handy stash of condoms. He was only stymied by the lack of lube for a half a minute before his gaze landed on the cruet of cooking oil. That would do nicely, he determined, as he poured a stream of the canola oil onto the lower portion of the boy’s back, allowing it to trickle nicely down the invitingly deep crevice of Justin’s crack, coating all with a slick, slippery sheen.
“I’m going to fuck you, my tasty little chef,” Brian promised, bending further so he could whisper the words directly in the perfect shell-like ear while letting the fingers of one hand slide through the slickness until they found the tight little pucker he knew was waiting for him. “Right here. Across the kitchen counter. Which is right where tasty, hot, little dishes like you belong, Sunshine,” he insisted as his squirmy little bun warmer writhed deliciously, moaning louder with each oily finger Brian slipped inside him.
“Do it, Brian! Do it now! Fuck me!” the groaning gourmet demanded, bracing his hands against the edge of the counter so that he could thrust back and further impale himself on Brian’s dexterous fingers.
Brian didn’t need to be invited twice. He wiggled his fingers around one more time to make sure his dishy boy was adequately ready for him and then quickly replaced his digits with his dick. The moan of ecstasy that followed as he imperiously thrust all the way inside that toasty tunnel was enough to swell his cock even more than it had already been.
He didn’t know what it was about the blond, but everything he did, every sound he made, every twitch of his perfect little body, turned Brian on. It had always been that way - right from the very first night - no matter how often or how vehemently Brian had tried to deny it. Even all these years later, Brian still could barely control his lust whenever he was around Justin. And, thankfully, their sex life was just as spicey today as it had been the night they’d first met.
“Yes, Brian! FUCKING, YES!” the hot little hash slinger began to holler, pulling Brian’s focus back to the kitchen and the accommodating body bent over the counter in front of him.
He renewed his grip on the young man’s slim hips and sank his sausage into the boy’s warming depths again and again. It was so delectable. So scrumptious. He savored every single thrust as he drove into the hot and happy place that always seemed so welcoming. And Justin, never one to take his pleasure passively, met Brian’s every motion, bending, angling his body, tensing his muscles and guiding them both to get the most satisfaction out of each moment.
As if the mess in the kitchen hadn’t already been enough, an especially potent thrust caused Justin to lose his grip on the slick marble countertop and his body slid upward, sending several bowls and containers crashing to the floor. The cruet of oil tipped over next, adding it’s lubriciousness to the mix. Brian calmly grabbed hold of Justin’s shoulders in order to keep the boy from sliding right out of his grip and just kept on pounding into him. He didn’t even stop when one of Justin’s flailing hands knocked over the bowl of whipped eggs, or the dish of spices, all of which coated Justin’s torso like a chicken-fried steak cutlet being dredged for the frying pan. And, considering the heat and friction that Brian’s pummelling was causing, the youth felt like he might actually start sizzling.
Before they could self-combust though, Brian managed to find the exact angle necessary to drive directly into Justin’s sweet spot and that was all it took. A half a dozen thrusts later and the little chicken was crowing like a cock of the walk as the heat inside him exploded into a full-fledged conflagration. He bucked upwards, arching back against Brian’s chest with a roar of repletion as streams of his sweet boy cream coated the counter and added to the mess. A heartbeat later, Brian’s own climax rushed through him, draining of him of the last pint of his strength and resulting in the pair toppling forward until they were both sagging across the eggy-dreggy kitchen top.
“Wow . . .” the sated sous-chef commented as soon as his heart slowed enough that it was no longer beating in his ears. “That’s one way to turn up the heat in the kitchen.”
The adorable giggle that accompanied that comment - and, yes, Brian would have to admit that he was once again thinking that exasperating ‘a’ word - elicited a matching chuckle from the older of the pair.
“At least you can’t say I don’t know my way around a kitchen, Sunshine,” Brian teased, still not stirring from his comfortable spot atop the soft little chef. “You might be the better cook, but I can always whip up some cream and butter your buns at the same time!”
“Briiiiaaaannnn . . .” the boy groaned and then giggled again.
They laid there, mired in the muck, chuckling and breathing and just reveling in the fun and joy for several more minutes. Nothing really seemed more important at that moment than this. This moment of pure hedonistic bliss.
“You know, I’ve never celebrated Hanukkah before,” Brian finally said, when he realized he’d have to move before they lost the condom in the nether regions of Justin’s perky posterior. “But, if this is what it’s all about, I’m totally in favor of this ONE particular holiday.”
“Good, because, we still have about a half a ton worth of latkes to eat before the night’s over, Stud,” Justin laughed as he squirmed out from under Brian and started to assess where to begin on the mess.
“First, Sunshine, I think you and I need a shower,” Brian suggested, moving the pan of forgotten and now ruined latkes to the side of the stove and turning off the heat. “Or, would you prefer that I personally lick all your tasty bits and we can move our own little Celebration of Lights over to the dining room table for round two?”
Much, much, much later, the boys sat down at the freshly cleaned table, their plates filled with latkes drenched in sour cream and applesauce, and their hearts drenched with the joy of spending this night together with the person they loved.
HAPPY HORNY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!
