Page 80 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
“The pleasure was mine, darling. Are you hungry?”
“I shouldn’t be after that dinner, but yes. Damian’s in the shower, and then he’ll be out as well. What did you make?”
“We made”—Mr. Moreau let Collin sit up, and collected the blanket, returning it to the back of the couch—“profiteroles with frozen custard, ice cream, and whipped cream fillings. But we need to fill them still. Go shower.”
Collin rubbed his eyes and fluttered his eyelids to get the sleep out of his lashes.
Mr. Reevesworth reached out and pushed a little hair from his face. “And how are you, Collin?”
“Baking helped.”
Mr. Reevesworth looked serious for a moment and then nodded once. “I’m going to shower. You can come be with me in the bathroom, or you can help Émeric finish up in the kitchen.”
“If it’s all the same, sir, I want to see through what we started. I’ve never made pastry before.”
“You have an excellent teacher if you want to learn. I’ll see you soon.” He touched Collin’s hair one more time and then left on long, swiftly moving legs.
“And that is the harbinger of two very hungry men.” Mr. Moreau pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s teach you about the joys of filling things.”
Collin giggled. “I think I prefer being filled.”
Mr. Moreau shook his head. “As one who prefers both, I would never give up either.”
Filling the fresh pastries with various creams was satisfying. Collin lost himself in the work until large arms wrapped around him from behind.
“Is that for me?” An obviously caged cock pressed against Collin’s ass.
“Are you hungry?”
Damian nodded into Collin’s shoulder. “Feed me.”
Collin turned his head. Mr. Reevesworth was leaning in the kitchen doorway, ankles and arms crossed, pants hanging low on his hips. Collin raised an eyebrow. Mr. Reevesworth tipped his head in assent.
“You want whipped cream, ice cream, or custard?” Collin asked.
Damian shivered. “Whipped cream first.”
Collin reached for one and held it just out of Damian’s reach. Damian’s grip around his waist tightened, and he went up on his tiptoes, pushing Collin into the counter and grabbing the sweet treat between his teeth.
Collin giggled. He opened his hand, catching the unbitten half of the profiterole in his hand and holding it up for Damian to eat the rest from his palm.
Damian dropped his head to Collin’s shoulder. “So good. More, please.”
Collin shook his head and picked up one of the frozen custards. “Open wide.”
Damian obediently opened his mouth, waiting to be fed.
Collin dropped the entire puff in his mouth. “If you want more, sit. I have to wash my hands. You made a mess, and the rest need to be finished.”
Damian made a sound of complaint, but he let go as Collin moved to the sink to wash his hand.
“Richard, your tea is ready.” Mr. Moreau laid a tray on the table. “Collin, do you want help?”
“Three more minutes. I have it.” Collin dried his hands and moved back to the profiteroles.
They ate together at the table. Damian had both hands around a cup of decaf coffee. He refused to feed himself, instead making puppy eyes at Collin to hand-feed him. Perhaps he was still in subspace, but he wasn’t calm and obedient like Collin had felt the night before. Instead, he was goofy and affectionate, even grabbing Mr. Reevesworth’s finger once when he accidentally brushed it against a pile of whipped cream. He licked the entire digit clean before releasing it. All Mr. Reevesworth said was “Thank you, Damian. It’s much cleaner now.”
Ten minutes later, Damian was face down on the table, barely awake.
