He handed the portion to Dakota, and the taffy was warm in his hands, pliable but not liquid. Dakota squeezed it experimentally, feeling the texture give under his fingers.
“Good. Now we pull.” He demonstrated with his own portion, stretching the taffy between his hands until it formed a long rope, then folding it back on itself. “You want to incorporate air, make it lighter. Keep pulling and folding until it turns opaque.”
Dakota mimicked the motion, pulling the taffy apart. It stretched easily, the golden color gleaming in the light from the windows. He folded it back and pulled again, finding a rhythm that felt natural.
“Like this?” He glanced at Kivani, who had moved closer to watch his technique.
“Exactly like that.” His hand settled on Dakota’s waist, and Dakota’s next pull was less smooth. “You’re a natural.”
The praise made Dakota’s face heat. He focused on the taffy, pulling and folding while Kivani’s hand stayed warm on his waist. The repetitive motion was soothing, almost meditative, and he found himself relaxing into it.
“How long do I keep going?” Dakota’s arms were starting to feel the effort, his muscles burning in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
“Until it looks like this.” Kivani held up his own taffy, which had turned from golden to a pale cream color. “See how it’s not shiny anymore? That means it’s ready.”
Dakota pulled his taffy a few more times, watching the color shift. The transformation was satisfying in a way he couldn’t quite name, like he’d accomplished something real and tangible. When his portion matched Kivani’s, he held it up triumphantly.
“I did it!”
“You did.” Kivani’s smile was warm, proud, and Dakota wanted to bask in that expression forever. “Now we twist it into a rope and cut it.”
Kivani demonstrated, rolling the taffy between his palms until it formed a long, even cylinder. Dakota tried to copy him, but his rope came out lumpy and uneven. He frowned at it then at Kivani’s perfect version.
“Hey, first time is never perfect.” He moved behind Dakota, Kivani’s body pressing against his back. “Here, let me help.”
His hands covered Dakota’s, guiding them in the rolling motion. Dakota’s breath caught at the contact, at the feel of Kivani’s body solid and warm behind him. The taffy became secondary to the way Kivani’s fingers threaded through his, the way his breath ghosted across Dakota’s ear.
“There you go.” Kivani’s voice had dropped lower, rougher. “Nice and even.”
The taffy rope was indeed smoother now, uniform in thickness. But he couldn’t focus on it properly because Kivani’s mouth had found the side of his throat, pressing a soft kiss just below his ear. The touch made Dakota’s hands still, his entire body going taut.
“Kivani.” His voice came out breathless, wanting.
“Mmm?” Another kiss, this one lower. His chest rumbled against Dakota’s back, that purr vibrating through both their bodies. “Am I distracting you?”
“Yes.” He tilted his head to give Kivani better access, the taffy forgotten in his hands. “Definitely yes.”
Kivani’s laugh was warm against Dakota’s skin. “Sorry. You just smell so good. Can’t help myself.”
The admission made heat pool low in Dakota’s stomach. He leaned back into Kivani’s body, letting himself be held. The shop was quiet around them, just the sound of their breathing and the occasional car passing outside. Nothing existed except this moment, this man, this feeling of being wanted so completely it made Dakota’s head spin.
“We should probably finish the taffy.” Dakota didn’t move, made no effort to step away from their embrace.
“Probably.” Kivani’s mouth moved to Dakota’s shoulder, kissing through the fabric of his sweater. “Or we could just stand here like this.”
“That’s not very productive.”
“I’m okay with that.” Another kiss, followed by that rumbling purr that Dakota could feel in his bones. “Are you okay with that?”
Dakota thought about it for approximately half a second. “Very okay with that.”
They stood there together, Kivani’s arms wrapped around Dakota’s waist, his mouth doing wonderful things to any skin he could reach. The taffy grew cooler in Dakota’s hands, harder to work with, but Dakota couldn’t bring himself to care. This was better than taffy. Better than anything.
Eventually, Kivani pulled back with what sounded like genuine reluctance. “We really should finish this before it gets too hard to cut.”
“Fine.” Dakota tried to sound disappointed but couldn’t quite manage it. He was too happy, too content, too wrapped up in the glow of being wanted. “Show me what to do next.”
Kivani guided him through cutting the rope into small pieces, wrapping each one in wax paper, twisting the ends. Dakota’s cuts were uneven, his wrapping sloppy compared to Kivani’s practiced efficiency, but Kivani praised each attempt like Dakota had created something perfect.
