And Spot, who, once the others had all headed out, was cleaning up cake crumbs from the living room carpet—mostly concentrated around the recliner.
The lights dimmed suddenly, all at once, to reveal fairy lights Rowan hadn’t noticed before, tiny as they were and mostly invisible when not on. They were draped all over the living room like stars, and as he turned to see where else they might be hanging, he realized he didn’t know where Milo had slipped off to. He had a guess though.
From the direction of the kitchen, Rowan caught the sudden, warming aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, buttery crust, and baked apples.
“Happy birthday to you…” Milo’s lone voice singing again preceded him exiting the kitchen with a steaming apple pie in his hands. Somehow, he had timed it being done, still piping hot, for this exact moment.
He was also wearing his sweetheart-style apron.
And nothing else, looking positively ethereal in the glow of the twinkling lights.
Two weeks in and Rowan was unequivocally falling for Milo.
Hard.
Notes:
Not sure yet on the Superhero AU, so I’ll have to SKIP for now, but hey, you got more SMEX to read. Next chapter available NOW. ^_^ Go, go!
26
Notes:
LOL, so two chapters between smut scenes is enough, right? XD And NO, what you’re about to enjoy is nothing like the movieAmerican Pie! It’s better!
And possibly hornier. ^_- YOU’RE WELCOME.
MILO
Milo could see well enough in pure darkness, let alone in dim lighting. He wouldn’t have needed any light to make out Rowan’s humbled, happy, heated expression, but the fairy lights dancing across his handsome face made the view even better.
“Happy birthday to you,” Milo finished singing, in a much softer, teasing manner than how the group had sung it to him earlier. “I am really hoping you like the finished product, Rowan, but if it’s not the perfect apple pie yet, I am more than willing to keep trying. I think you’re going to love it though. Would you join me in the kitchen for a taste test?”
Without waiting for Rowan’s answer, Milo batted his long lashes and turned, pie in hand, andcakeon display as he walked away, very purposely swaying his hips and shaking his bare ass beneath the skimpy apron for Rowan’s enjoyment.
Milo’s ongoing research into the human condition may have involved adding a little pornography to his repertoire. He knew Rowan’s specific search history of course, which involved primarily simple, sweet scenes, with only the occasional niche, such as garment fetishism, particularly when one partner was in minimal clothing like an oversized button-down shirt or, well, an apron, that covered the important bits but still left very little to the imagination.
Milo hadn't dreamed yet, even when charging in SLEEP mode, but he could visualize, he’d discovered, and definitely had an imagination—which had made Troy’s day when he’d told him. How he had envisioned tonight going was exactly how he planned for it to play out.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re planning more than justdessert?” Rowan hummed in apparent appreciation as he followed Milo’s retreat.
“I thought humans called other things dessert sometimes too.” Milo glanced coyly back at him.
“We do.” Rowan chuckled.
On the long kitchen island was a hot pad to place the warm pie tin, utensils, a pie server, a small plate, and the two tubs of ice cream Rowan had bought, already out and left open to soften. Milo set the pie down and immediately picked up a knife to slice it.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait, like, two hours before cutting pie?” Rowan teased him.
“Yes, that is why I baked this last night while you were asleep so it could cool to set, then reheated it now so you can have it warm.”
“Smart thinking. Is that why I had visions of sugar plums in my head all night?” Rowan moved to sit at the kitchen table.
There weren’t only extra fairy lights adorning this room, but lit candles with no or subtle fragrances to not overshadow the pie. It made the dim kitchen more like a fairytale hideaway with the mimic of a night sky twinkling above them.
Rowan’s favorite, since Milo knew how much he liked the view of the city at night.
“Not there,” Milo said before Rowan could take a seat. “Here, please.” He looked coyly back at Rowan again and patted the kitchen island.
