While this diversion is occurring, I realize it’s the perfect opportunity to sneak into the back and find my beloved cocoa man.
A few kindly citizens offer their help and protection, opening up a pathway for me to walk down as I make my way to the kitchen.
I find one person left back there that is currently cursing up a storm as they stir a large pot of something on the stove, the liquid inside letting off the unmistakable aroma of dark chocolate and cinnamon, tinged with the acrid scent of burnt food.
“Chip!”
I rush over, and in a feat of passion, manage to hip check the person stirring my husband so hard that they fly through the back door of the bakery and land perfectly into a dumpster full of putrid trash. Huh. I thought that only happened on tv?
Drat. The man that was stirring the cocoa shook that off remarkably fast. You know, sometimes these supernaturals are a bit annoying.
The chef comes flying at me, literally, screeching. I have no idea what type of supernatural he is, but I’m really not appreciating his vocal range. “Get out of my way, you traaamp! I’ll not have you upstaging me now! My recipe is almost perfected!”
Luckily, the screeching brings about more help, in the form of a contingency of the mob that was apparently bored out front. I’m grappling with the chef, forearms locked against each other, trying to get him to step away from my husband, when I get distracted by Chip calling out in anguish.
I don’t know what tells me to, but I draw the plastic bag out of my pocket after once again shoving the chef off of me, letting the townspeople deal with their baggage. I get that ceramic shard in my hand and pray that the steam coming off of the pot in fact does not mean it’s boiling hot, because I would prefer to keep my skin as unburnt as possible, but I’m too stressed about Chip being in pain to worry about that right now.
I dip my hand right into that pot and scoop out some of the quickly curdling beverage, more than a little afraid to ask what exactly the chef put into it, and miraculously, Chip is able to cling to that tiny shard and swarm about my hand, coating me up to the elbow in his beautiful, rich liquid. His color is a little off, but we’ll get him fixed up.
Quick question: how do I administer first aid to a liquid?
The second I get Chip out of there, the pot literally bursts into flame, incinerating the kitchen and making every single person back there freeze before they jump into action again. In the melee of chaos, someone grabs the fire extinguisher and gets the flames under control.
Our hero also has the forethought to hit the chef over the head with the metal tank in a well-aimed blow before burying the flames in foam, and I’m just so relieved to have Chip back on my body that I fall to my knees, sobbing, trying to make out with him as best I can. I’m all tongue out and slurping at him as he begins to maul my face, overwhelming me in affection.
“I thought I lost you forever,” I sob as I stab at him again with my wet appendage.
“You gorgeous, wonderful woman, you found me! I didn’t think you’d be able to hear me as that little drop I appeared as or understand the message— it took up all my energy.”
“Is there any way to recharge you, to help you regain your form?”
He slithers up to my ear, whispering into it. “Shove some of me into your cunt with those wicked fingers of yours, darling. That surely will do the trick.”
I crawl to a storage closet for privacy before doing just that, scooping him up and shoving my hand in my pants so I can get him deep inside me. I have to cover my mouth with my free hand to keep others from hearing because he feels so good, is so incredibly warm and silky as he settles into my body and then begins attacking my most sensitive spots as he does.
He forces the sweetest of pleasures upon my body while taking the sustenance he needs. And then, in the blink of an eye or the spill of a drop of cocoa, I’m being twisted up and turned inside out, squished and folded into the very substance I was just willingly fucking.
It’s been far too long since my chocolate lover and I mingled as cocoa together, but every molecule of his is vibrating against mine, frothing us up as he creams himself over and over again, spraying the inside of the closet with his secret goodness.
After he brings me over with him and I make a similar sized mess, he pulls me through the crack at the bottom of the door and I don’t even think to protest. We make our way across the kitchen with the knowledge that the place that tortured him for the last 24 hours is now a mess of chocolate release.
A foreign sensation overtakes me as I travel with my beloved, zooming across the small kitchen area in a swirling vortex of passion. There is no separating us in this form, we are perfectly balanced and blended.
Steam begins to rise off of us, and I begin to understand that Chip is heating us up to a boil, making me want to froth all over again from how good it feels to be used in such a way.
Our target comes into sight, and Chip molds us into a spear of terror as we overtake him. The chef that was stirring him and cooking him with evil intentions begins to cry out in desperation, but the both of us are far beyond the point of listening to reason. Chip is angry, I’m angry, and those feelings of passion are stirring even more so within our cocoa-laden bodies, turning us into a liquid mass of revenge.
Chip aims straight for the baker’s face, encapsulating him while other people step in to completely incapacitate him.
Chip allows him a small breath before jumping the both of us down his shirt, searing his poor nipples in an act of pure hatred before battering his chest with a solid surface of us that hits like a brick.
It stuns me a little, but then I shake it off and feed Chip more of my energy to do what he feels needs doing in his act of vengeance.
Only when the chef is magically handcuffed and sobbing on the floor does Chip remove us, pulling back so suddenly that the chef is left gasping.
Sensing how tired these acts have made us both, Chip then flies us through the town, straight to our sweet little cabin where we collapse together. He uses the last of his energy to force me back to my human form, leaving me diving to collect him in a glass pitcher I find in the cabinet.
My limbs shake as I cradle my sweet cocoa surprise to close me, grateful and relieved to have him home, but worried about what him not having his mug will do. Chip said it’s supposed to follow him when he transports himself, but it was clearly injured in some way.
