Free Story: Of Wax and Waffles

Originally written for the Torquere Social Happy Hour, "Of Wax and Waffles" is a short >1K m/m story written in about 3 hours to the prompts supplied by various members.

***

Dylan woke to the smell of something wonderful coming from the kitchen - his kitchen, which he shared with no-one - and he smiled. No awkward goodbyes awaited him then, at least not immediately on opening his eyes.

He picked up his jeans off of the floor - he hadn't discarded them there, yesterday, when he'd dressed for the club, but it seemed that they'd used his bedroom pretty hard in their fun last night.

Xavier had used the kitchen hard, too, Dylan thought on arrival. He'd dug out the waffle iron Dylan had bought two years prior, and never opened. He'd made the batter by hand - the eggshells sat on counter and there was flour everywhere, including on Xavier, who was dressed in his own tight jeans, but one of Dylan's t-shirts. His feet were bare, and he'd left little Xavier-shaped footprints over half the floor.

He watched Xavier for a while - his dark hair was cropped short, and Dylan knew that bar Xavier's head, his pale skin was smooth. As he watched, Xavier's petit frame stretched to reach the maple syrup high on the shelves.

Dylan took mercy. "I'll get that," he said, as he swept into the kitchen.

"Oh, thanks," Xavier said, uncertainly.

Dylan reminded himself that Xavier was new to all of this - still, in many respects, somewhat virginal. "Smells divine," Dylan offered, handing Xavier the syrup, and backing up. "I'm not mad," he said, when Dylan's expression didn't change.

"I didn't think about asking until I'd started," Xavier confessed. "When I got up, it seemed like the right thing to do… and then I wasn't so sure."

"No, it's perfect," Dylan assured him, cursing O'Sullivan in his head once more.

It had all started simply enough.

He'd gone to the club with no particular intention of playing. Matt and his new boyfriend were going, to celebrate Matt's birthday, and Dylan had gone along for the party that was sure to follow his friend.

He hadn't been wrong. Matt's friends seemed to take up half the club, but then, everyone liked Matt. The drinks were flowing pretty freely, at least among those who had come to party, rather than play. Dylan was on his second cocktail before he spotted O'Sullivan.

He'd never expected to see him again. He'd certainly never wanted to see him again. And then the boy appeared, dressed in only a pair of tight jeans and a collar, and carrying a couple of glasses of what Dylan knew were double whiskeys, on the rocks.

He put his drink down and went in search of a bouncer.

Bill, the bouncer, had taken him seriously, and summoned Justin, the club's owner, from wherever it was that Justin went when he wasn't on the floor. Dylan hadn't been all that reassured to find out that O'Sullivan was only there as a member's guest, not when he'd learned who's guest he was - the weird vibe Ed gave off made a lot of sense, all of a sudden.

It had been an ugly scene when Justin had confronted O'Sullivan - he went from stony-faced, barely-concealed fury at Justin's interruption to fully-blown-livid at Dylan's appearance. It was more than enough confirmation for Justin that O'Sullivan wasn't someone he wanted around his club.

Still, Dylan was impressed that Xavier had the sense to stay - he'd seen more than one kid follow off O'Sullivan whatever cliff he'd placed them on, and Dylan knew that O'Sullivan hadn't drugged all of them.

Xavier, he reflected, had had a narrow escape.

He tagged along with Justin and Dylan went back to Matt's party, and Justin came by to add his own birthday wishes. Somehow, when Justin left to do Justin things, Xavier stayed. They got to talking, and when Dylan was ready to go home, he only a little surprised when Xavier suggested he come along with. Xavier's blend of fear and courage was intoxicating, all on its own. He was glad he hadn't had much to drink.

Xavier had looked absolutely beguiling in the candlelight, chained to Dylan's bed, straining into Dylan's touch.

And the sounds he made; the panting and moaning had delighted Dylan as he dribbled wax unto that smooth torso.

But Dylan turned away from the memory and toward his young lover.

The night was gone, but Xavier wasn't.

Breakfast was ready. After that, who knew?

Edited for pagination