The moment Robin enters Oliver’s flat, he’s nudged against the wall and thoroughly kissed. It takes him way too long to recover.

“Hey,” Oliver says, finally pulling away.

Robin stares at him for a moment, then quickly wraps his arms around him and buries his nose in Oliver’s neck. “Oh, you do smell like gingerbread.”

Oliver laughs breathlessly. “I should thank the person who gave it to me.”

“Hmmm. You should,” Robin murmurs, but he can’t stop scenting Oliver. He smells warm and attractive and slightly sweet. Robin nuzzles Oliver’s neck.

Oliver makes a choked sound, his groin pressing up against Robin’s. “Bed?”

A shiver of anticipation runs down Robin’s body, a starburst of feeling when Oliver slips cool fingers between his shirt and trousers. Robin’s arms tighten. “Oliver.“

“Yeah?” Oliver says, perking up.

“...I need to take my shoes off first.”

Oliver huffs. “Fine, come on.”

Robin regretfully separates from Oliver long enough to take his shoes off, and leaves his bag by its usual spot in the living room.

“So...this is my bedroom,” Oliver says, opening one of the doors that usually remains closed.

Robin doesn’t have much time to look around though because Oliver’s hands are on his waist, his lips on Robin’s. They end up tipping onto Oliver’s bed, Robin crowded against the pillows.

Robin looks up, fingertips light on Oliver’s lips. Oliver’s lips curl up. He nips Robin’s fingers, before descending on Robin’s mouth again, sliding his tongue inside. While Robin’s lips alight in sensation, the rest of his body wants to melt, wants to keep Oliver as close as possible.

Robin spreads his legs, just a little. Oliver’s body presses down on him. The kiss is sensuous, heat blooming at every point where they touch. Robin tugs at Oliver’s shirt, slipping his fingers against warm, firm skin.

“Yess.” Oliver slips his own hand under Robin’s shirt. Giddy anticipation travels up Robin’s stomach, turning into a moan as clever fingers tease his nipple, as Oliver’s hardness presses against Robin’s through their trousers.

“Fuck,” Oliver says, and kisses Robin again, swallowing up his moans.

It’s hard to think about anything else but Oliver’s weight, and about Oliver. Robin’s stomach swoops in disappointment when Oliver draws away.

Oliver licks his lips. “Not that I don’t love this but...can we?” He presses a hand over Robin’s bulge.

“Oh. Oh. Yeah.” Robin undoes his belt and trouser buttons, and helps Oliver with his zipper. Robin bites his bottom lip in anticipation as he sees Oliver’s cock, flushed and hard.

“Let me,” Oliver says. He leans over to his bedside, coating fingers with lube. Then, he grasps both cocks.

Robin swallows, hard. Oliver’s fingers are slightly calloused from his musical playing, grip firm and unfamiliar on Robin’s dick. And not only that, his dick is touching Oliver’s.

Oliver starts to tug, squeezing the two together, pressing heat against heat. Lube coats their cocks, making obscene slicking sounds as Oliver works. Robin flushes as his pearly white precome oozes out of his dick.

Oliver pants. “Is that good? Like that?” he says, tugging and twisting.

Robin sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, oh yeah.”

At each pull, Robin feels himself getting hard, getting closer. He almost cannot believe that this is happening.

Oliver’s head drops onto Robin’s shoulder. Robin threads his hand through the curls, tugging lightly.

“God, you feel so good,” Oliver mutters. His hand moves a little faster, a little rougher.

Robin’s toes curl. “Faster.”

“Yeah—yeah.”

Robin’s eyes shut. It always amazes him how different it feels when someone else is wanking him, and it’s Oliver too, Oliver with his talented hands…

“Oliver, Oliver,” Robin mumbles.

If anything, Oliver goes faster. “Come on,” he urges, voice husky and deep with arousal.

Robin’s body tenses, then releases in a brilliant orgasm. Oliver’s motions slow, his moan muffled into Robin’s neck as he comes too, spurting all over Robin’s chest and shirt. He slumps down fully a few moments later.

Robin’s chest heaves as he remembers to breath again. Affection fills him til it wants to burst. He turns his head and presses a kiss into Oliver’s hair.

“Hmmnnoo, kiss my face,” Oliver protests.

Robin huffs. He manoeuvres Oliver off of him, switching their positions and kisses Oliver’s cheek.

Oliver pouts. Grinning, Robin gives his boyfriend a kiss on the lips.

“My cock is dangling out,” Robin says, glancing down their bodies.

Oliver laughs. “I hope I didn’t ruin your shirt.”

“Hmmm.” Robin gives into the urge to kiss Oliver again.

However, it’s only so long that he can ignore the come on their skin and clothes. “We have to clean up before dinner.”

Oliver pouts. “No shower together?”

“I don’t have any spare clothes with me…” Robin narrows his eyes. “Unless you have a thing for men in your clothes.”

Oliver grins. “Wouldn’t you want to know?”

Robin pulls a face. He’s about to get up when he spies something. “Wait, isn’t that the toy I gave you?” he says. The little cake plush is half hidden under the duvet.

Oliver averts his eyes. “Soooo what if it is?”

“You sleep with it at night?” Robin teases.

“Only sleep,” Oliver says, wriggling his eyebrows. He reaches down, fondling Robin’s spent cock.

Robin huffs a laugh. “Sneaky, Oliver, sneaky.”

“One more kiss?”

Robin can’t help but grant Oliver’s wish.

 

---

 

Oliver’s limbs feel all loose and relaxed and he wouldn’t mind snuggling and maybe even having a nap—though a nap this time at night wouldn’t really be a nap...Or maybe he could continue kissing Robin? Both sound very good.

But at Robin’s protest, they both get up to wash up and wipe down in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. Oliver, grinning, pulls out an impressive roast chicken from the oven.

“So it is a feast,” Robin says, leaning against the counter. “I’ll set the table?”

“Yeah.” Oliver starts pulling together all the other sides: roasted vegetables, salad, sauces. He carves up the roast chicken, and carries it to the table.

There’s a lit candle.

Oliver looks at Robin.

“Don’t you think it’s suitable?” Robin says innocently.

“But you’ve already romanced me. Don’t tell me there’s a marriage proposal coming up…”

A grin grows on Robin’s face. “Really? Is that a hint?”

Oliver pulls a face. “If I could throw a pillow at you right now, I would.”

He sets down the platter of carved chicken. Robin helps him carry the rest of the food to the table, and Oliver remembers the bottle of hot sauce for Robin. He serves Robin, smiling innocently at Robin’s exasperated look.

“You know,” Oliver says, lips quirking up. “I’m starting to understand why grandmothers love to feed people.”

Robin shakes his head, but his look is fond.

“It looks like your shop is going well,” Oliver comments, once they start eating.

“Oh, there’s a rise during this time—school and uni holidays.”

“Not just that. I saw you added teh tarik onto the menu properly.”

“You noticed?”

“Of course I did. I have the link to your video saved.”

Robin’s cheeks redden. “Seriously?”

“We still haven’t taken a picture yet…”

Robin laughs. “Fine, come here.”

Oliver gladly gets to his feet and tugs Robin up to. He wraps an arm around Robin’s waist and snaps half a dozen selfies of the two of them.

Once they sit down again, Robin says, “That was what you wanted the whole time, wasn’t it?”

Oliver gives a noncommittal shrug, though it’s true there’s nothing else pressing on his mind. After all: sex, tick, photos of Robin, tick, eating with Robin and spending time with Robin, SO MANY TICKS.

“You know, there was a Great Australian Bake Off a few years back,” Robin says.

“Wait, what? Was it as gay as the Britsh one?”

Robin pulls a face. “I don’t think so? Oh, I bet you’ve never seen Iron chef.”

“Weren’t there also kids cooking shows?”

The conversation meanders into childhood nostalgia. To think that he and Robin lived in different suburbs in Melbourne, and yet watched the same things. They even had the same school yard games, albeit under different names.

 

After dinner finishes, they head over to the couch, and Robin reveals a small box. Inside are four small sized pale white balls, soft and springy when Oliver pokes at it.

“These are strawberry daifuku,” Robin informs him. He slices one open, revealing a bright pink-red strawberry, surrounded with a dull-red paste. “I used smaller strawberries. Come here.”

Oliver leans closer, and has to hold back a giddy smile when Robin holds up half of the daifuku. It touches Oliver’s lips, and his mouth opens. He bites down, licking the tip of Robin’s fingers.

Sweetness and tartness of the strawberry bursts in Oliver’s mouth, tempered by the sweet red bean paste, and the balancing flavour of the outside mochi. The mochi has a bit of squishy chew, contrasting with the bite of the strawberry.

“Good?”

Oliver leans forward silently to take the rest of the piece off Robin’s fingers, making sure to lick those fingers clean.

Robin’s eyes darken. “Hm.”

“Yep, very tasty,” Oliver says, pressing his thigh against Robin’s.

“Be serious,” Robin says, bopping Oliver’s nose.

“I’m always serious with desserts,” Oliver says. “It can’t help it if there’s a snack in front of me.”

Robin blinks. “Did you just—”

“A snack,” Oliver says, innocently picking up the second daifuku. “Here.” This time, he feeds Robin, a bite for him, a bite for Oliver, and finishing off with a kiss. Oliver boldly slips his tongue inside Robin’s mouth, pressing himself as close to Robin as possible. When Oliver moves back, Robin’s eyes are blown wide, lips bitten red.

Oliver steals a hand under Robin’s shirt, nudging Robin to the side.

After a beat, Robin lies back on the sofa, eyes half-lidded. “We really should finish eating.”

“But what if I want to eat you?” Oliver fishes out a small travel size bottle of lube from his pocket.

Robin’s eyes crinkle. “Oh, Oliver,” he says, the fond exasperation in his voice warming Oliver up. “Do you think...if I could wank us off this time?”

Fuck yes! Oliver immediately nods.

After short work of opening up trousers and pushing down pants, Oliver has his head buried in Robin’s neck. Robin’s fingers are longer than his, (pianist fingers, he thinks desperately), and the little twists and tugs are slightly different, and the not quite knowing what will happen next heightens every spark of pleasure.

“Faster,” Oliver urges. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You feel the best,” Robin says.

Oliver trembles, emotion warring with arousal. “Robin…”

Robin jerks them off faster, silky skin of their cocks sliding against each other. Oliver’s toes curl. He moans as he comes, muffled against Robin’s neck. “K-keep going. Yes.”

Oliver kisses Robin’s neck. Robin comes soon after, his motions becoming erratic.

Both of them are breathing heavily in the aftermath. Oliver makes good use of his not-coated-in-lube fingers to hug Robin tightly.

“We’ve made a mess again,” Robin says, attempting to get up.

Oliver grumbles and hugs tighter. “I’m just going to lie here. You can feed me the rest of the daifuku.”

“If you’re sleepy, maybe I should leave now.”

Oliver immediately sits up. “Evil, Robin.”

Robin’s lips quirk up in a lazy smile. “Am I? Wait here.”

Robin soon returns with a wet cloth and cleans them both down. Oliver grabs Robin, pulling him down for a cuddle.

Oliver feels he’s really lucky when Robin acquiesces, even takes the opportunity to feed him more of the mochi. There’s really nothing else better than having Robin right up against him.