Jasper grinned. “Love mushrooms. Hate olives.”
Vincent groaned. “Heathen.”
He laughed and snatched one of the onions to peel it, but he’d only gotten half of it done when he realized he was still dressed. He shifted on his feet as he debated stripping. They weren’t in Vincent’s home, but no one else was here, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the others in various states of undress. But this was different.
“Pet?” Vincent asked, eyeing him as he finished washing the mushrooms.
Jasper sighed and set the onion down, quickly pulling his shirt over his head before he could second- and third-guess himself. His fingers hesitated a beat on his jeans, but he pushed those down too. When he straightened and risked a peek, Vincent had his arms crossed and was propped against the counter with an amused look.
“I’m not complaining, but are you sure?”
He swallowed and gave a sharp nod, snatched up his clothes, and dashed upstairs to toss them in his room. Then he had to take a moment to breathe. It wasn’t like he wasnaked;he still had his boxers on, but that wasn’t enough to keep his heart from skipping like a kid stealing ice cream as he headed back downstairs.
Vincent was still where Jasper had left him, closing the oven on the chicken. He held up an apron when Jasper stopped beside him.
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Defeats the purpose if I cover up your view, doesn’t it?”
Vincent tipped his head back with a laugh and draped the apron over himself instead.
Jasper couldn’t help feeling smug as he picked up the onion and got back to work. When he moved to the cutting board to start chopping, Vincent shifted to stand behind him, his arms resting lightly around Jasper’s waist. He shivered and tilted his head to the side as Vincent’s lips found his shoulder.
He stared at the onion for a moment, surprised by the casual affection. Maybe he shouldn’t have been. Even from the beginning, Vincent hadn’t been stingy with his touches, but he hadn’t really expected it here.
“Pet?” Vincent asked, propping his chin on Jasper’s shoulder.
He shook his head and cut the onion in half. “Just thinking,” he murmured, focusing on dicing the onion, but he couldn’t keep from thinking about punishments. Again. “Sir?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“I’ve been thinking,” he started but then couldn’t quite get the words out. What was he supposed to say, that he wanted to try being punished? He didn’t want to give Vincent the wrong idea: that he wanted to make it a thing. He didn’t want to say yes and be stuck with the consequences if he didn’t like it.
“Jas,” Vincent murmured wryly.
Jasper sighed and let his head thunk against Vincent’s shoulder. “You’ve mentioned punishments a few times.”
Vincent hummed against his neck. “And?”
Jasper shrugged his shoulder. “I might be curious about what it would be like?”
“How are you imagining it would be?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “Spanking?” he guessed, rolling his eyes as he felt Vincent’s lips curve in a smile against his neck.
“Sounds more like a reward.”
Jasper huffed and scooped the diced onion into the bowl before starting on the next one. “Well, it’s better than marshmallows in my ass,” he muttered.
Vincent laughed and tightened his arm around Jasper’s waist. “That’s a different kind of punishment.”
“Of course it is.”
“What are you worried might happen?”
“I dunno…. Being punished for no reason?”
Vincent shifted behind him, grasping Jasper’s wrist and sliding to his hand to press it against the cutting board until he released the knife, then he nudged Jasper around to face him.
“Look at me, pet,” he murmured, waiting until Jasper flicked a glance up to continue. “None of this is a game to me. Punishment is just another type of scene. I’d never discipline you for something without you understanding why and agreeing the discipline is suitable.”
