Chocolate Bites

Chocolate Bites

By Vic Winter

Connor wasn’t nervous.

He was excited; it was finally opening day of his very own bakery. This was the culmination of his dreams, the thing he’d been working for ever since he’d first walked into La Gourmande and asked to train under Pierre LaMonde, one of the best bakers in the country, or so Pierre would tell you. Connor’d learned his craft, he’d found a home, a place where he wanted to live and sell his wares. He’d found the perfect storefront, even if he did have to wait over a year to actually buy it.

It was here now, though: his opening day. The cases were full of pastries, cakes and cookies, the shelves loaded with bread and buns. There were a half dozen little tables with chairs spread out in the front of the shop with the hopes that people would drop in for bread and stay for a sweet bite or two along with a coffee, or even a hot chocolate. Dayton had insisted that there had to be hot chocolate available, no matter how hot the day outside. It was kind of cute, actually, how much his big, bad, growly lover was stupid for chocolate.

So, Connor wasn’t nervous. He
was
anxious.

What if there were no customers? He shook his head; he’d built his reputation in town already by selling out of The Silver Kitchen Diner. Everyone knew him, knew his wares. Still. He was living with the town bad boy -- a werewolf who even had a bad boy reputation among his own kind. What if that put people off? What if they stayed away because he was gay and...

What if people stayed away because of the werewolf pacing in front of the counter, growling and looking at his watch?

Connor wasn’t nervous, but Dayton clearly was and it was going to make him crazy.

Connor tried a little growl of his own to get Dayton’s attention. It worked. Dayton stopped pacing and his head swung around. “Mate?”

Oh. That word still filled Connor with pleasure. It started low in his belly and spread out from there, all warm and fluttery. It aroused him, too, his cock starting to fill in his baker’s whites. Dayton knew it, his head lifting slightly, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in deeply. A warm smile spread across Dayton’s face and he growled, the sound low and vibrating in Connor’s balls.

Connor moaned. He couldn’t help it. There was just something about Dayton. There always had been, right from the start.

He took a step back as Dayton took a step forward. They had time before he was supposed to open the shop at seven, but he really didn’t want to be caught in flagrante or in anything else by anyone wandering by who happened to look in. It was one thing to know that the baker and the werewolf were lovers, it was quite another to get a front row seat to the fucking itself.

Dayton was taking his retreat as a challenge, Connor could tell and he turned and ran, eager to get to the privacy of the kitchen before Dayton caught up with him. He nearly made it, too.

Instead, they went down hard right in front of the swinging doors. Dayton managed to drop him and flip at the same time, so he landed on top of his lover instead of underneath. Just as he was thinking happy thoughts about not being on his back on the cold floor, though, Dayton flipped them again, hips grinding into his. Suddenly the cold floor didn’t seem that bad, and the pastry filled counter hid them from view.

When Dayton’s mouth covered his, tongue pushing into his mouth to taste, Connor had to admit that any thoughts disappeared in a rush of heat and want and need. There’d never been that many men before Dayton, but nobody compared to Dayton. Nothing had ever felt the way Dayton’s kisses did, the way Dayton’s love-making did.

Connor managed to get a leg wrapped around Dayton’s hip, and he pulled his lover in as close as he could.

One of Dayton’s hands slid into his pants, fingers wrapping roughly around his prick. Connor bucked up into the touch and wrapped his hands around Dayton’s shoulders. Oh, God. Good. He couldn’t think; he couldn’t speak. All he could do was buck and whimper.

Then Dayton’s mouth closed over his and he couldn’t even do that anymore, the sounds cutting out as Dayton’s tongue invaded. Trying to catch his breath, Connor chased his orgasm, Dayton’s hand bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

It was the bite, though, that sent him over. Dayton’s lips closed over his throat, the sharp teeth biting down -- not breaking the skin, Dayton rarely went that far, but sharp enough to feel, sharp enough to bruise -- until his back arched and his body froze and he screamed out. There were no words, only a desperate, needful shout that left him limp and quiet when it was over.

Connor panted, still clinging to Dayton’s shoulders. There was come in his pants and on his chef’s coat. And even though he’d already swept twice this morning, he was sure that his entirely white uniform was showing every spec of dirt the floor had to offer. As Dayton rubbed lazily against him, though, he was having a hard time caring.

It wasn’t long before Dayton’s face went slack, his mouth opening on a low roar, and then his lover collapsed down, heavy and panting.

This was Connor’s favorite part of love-making. Okay, it was only one of his favorite parts. This, though, this time where he was sated, where Dayton had made him feel amazing and the scent of both of them rose up in the air, surrounding them and-- oh shit. The bakery could
not
smell like come. It just couldn’t.

He groaned and pushed at Dayton’s shoulders. His lover didn’t budge. He pushed again, a little harder this time. “Dayton! Dayton, you can’t go to sleep!”

His lover grunted. “Afterglow.”

“No!” He pinched Dayton’s arm. “We have to get up!”

“Ow!” Dayton lifted his head and frowned down at Connor. “What was that for?”

“No sleeping.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“And you need to get up,” he insisted.

Dayton sighed. “Is the floor that uncomfortable?”

“No.” Except that now that it had been brought to his attention, it really was. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point.”

“You’re not making a lot of sense.” Dayton still wasn’t getting up, but one hand was petting him now. Either that or Dayton was cleaning the come off his hand on Connor’s chef’s jacket.

Groaning, Connor pushed at Dayton again.

“The place reeks of us.”

“Of course it does, it’s ours.”

“
No
. It smells like we’ve had sex in here.”

Dayton’s look clearly said, “Well, d’uh,” and it clearly said Dayton thought he was crazy.

He pushed again. “Just get up already so I can air the place out. People don’t want to walk into a bakery that smells like a cat house.”

“It does not!” Dayton got up, glowering at him.

Connor had to laugh. “You know what I mean. Doghouse has a whole other connotation.”

Dayton simply growled at him. Connor’s cock twitched and he groaned. “Stop that, you’re making me hard again.”

The glower turned to a grin and another growl sounded, this one possessive and sexy as hell. He shook his head and held out his hand, Dayton grabbing it immediately to help him stand. They bumped into each other and he raised his head, Dayton’s lips covering his immediately. They lingered in the kiss until a timer in the kitchen went off.

“Oh, God, the apple tarts.”

“You’re a mess, too,” Dayton pointed out helpfully.

Connor considered bopping him, but the beeping from the timer came again and he high-tailed it into the kitchen.

Connor wasn’t nervous. But he still needed to change his clothes and spray something to cover up the smell.

***

Dayton went into the little public washroom and cleaned himself up, grinning. He’d managed to calm his mate’s nerves with a little surprise sex. He deserved a hot chocolate for that. Maybe it would even help bring people in if they saw him sitting at one of the tables, having cookies and hot chocolate. It would encourage them to do the same, to buy more than what they’d come in for.

If Connor didn’t have a good first day it was going to make him unhappy and worried and Dayton didn’t like it when his mate was unhappy and worried. It made him cranky. Of course, Connor always fed him hot chocolate when he was cranky, so there was a bit of a silver lining there.

Still, he wanted Connor’s bakery to be a success. His lover had worked hard for this.

He went back into the storefront and looked out the windows. The sun was up now; Connor would be opening soon, but there was no one outside yet. Dayton supposed it was too much to hope that there would be a line-up at opening on Connor’s first day. He checked his watch. Yeah, it was almost seven.

Dayton went to the door, and then back over to the counter, checking out the goodies. It smelled great in here. Like a bakery, yeasty and sweet, bready and chocolaty, and also like him and his mate. It was good.

Connor came out of the kitchen and set a bunch of apple tarts on the counter with a little sign proclaiming them to be two dollars apiece. Then he looked up and shook his head.

“You have to stop that, you know?”

Dayton frowned. “Stop what?”

“The pacing. The growling. You’re going to scare my customers away.”

“There aren’t any,” Dayton pointed out.

Connor rolled his eyes and came around the counter. “And there won’t be if you don’t stop putting out ‘mine, back off’ vibes.”

Dayton opened his mouth to protest that Connor was his, when he noticed the lurid mark just above Connor’s collar. A love bite. His love bite. Everyone would know that Connor was taken. Of course the place wasn’t a sprawling metropolis and pretty much everyone no doubt knew that already, but still, that bite mark was the cherry on top of the whipped cream.

Connor came up to him, adjusting his t-shirt, tucking the side back into his jeans. “What are you grinning at?”

He reached out and touched the mark. “You’re mine.”

Hand going to his neck, Connor rolled his eyes. “You left a hickey!”

“You weren’t complaining when I did it.”

That earned him another eye roll, and then Connor laughed. “You’re very possessive.” It certainly didn’t sound like a complaint.

“It goes with the territory.” He growled a little. That went with the territory, too, along with the seemingly perpetual five o’clock shadow.

“I know.” Connor checked the door and then leaned in and kissed him softly. “It’s kind of hot.”

He would have grabbed Connor and kissed him properly, but his lover stepped back. “We’re open. You really do need to stop pacing. How about a hot chocolate and something gooey to eat?”

“Yes, please.” For the right incentive, he could be very good indeed.

“Okay, but that means you have to sit. In that corner table there, and promise me you won’t glower at my customers.”

“I won’t glower if I have hot chocolate.” It was a physical impossibility.

“Okay, then.” Connor gave him another kiss, this one only half on his mouth, and headed back for the kitchen again.

Dayton sighed and made for the out of the way table Connor’d assigned him. It was going to be a long day.

***

It was nearly eight before the first customer came in, but after that it got busy and Connor barely had time to breathe. Now it was nearly eleven and he wasn’t out of anything but the apple tarts yet, but if things kept up at this pace, he should be ready to close up around four with pretty much every case empty.

He’d gotten a lot of compliments, too. A lot of folks, it seemed, were happy to have an actual bakery in town rather than having to go out to the diner for his baked goods.

Bill Deans wasn’t so happy. In fact the man had grumbled loudly during the last few months about how opening a bakery was going to hurt his business, especially as it meant Connor was pulling the breads and goodies out of The Silver Kitchen Diner, but Connor’d pointed out, just as loudly, that their arrangement had been temporary to start with, on the understanding that as soon as Connor got his own place, he’d be out of the diner. There wasn’t much Bill could do about it and in the end, he’d arranged to have Connor deliver a dozen fresh loaves to the diner every morning by five.

Actually, Dayton was the one who made the deliveries, on his bike no less, the bread transported in a box strapped to the back. His lover grumbled about it a lot -- apparently the cardboard delivery box didn’t do a whole lot for his bad boy image -- but he still did it, every morning like clockwork. Connor thought the mug of hot chocolate and blow job that his lover got upon his return was mostly responsible for that.

Mrs. Jeffers, the mayor’s wife came in just before noon, her secretary with her, jotting stuff down on a pad as Mrs. Jeffers dictated. When it was her turn in line, the woman took a breath and smiled at him. “I’ve heard rumors that you have the best apple tarts ever.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jeffers, but we’ve sold out.”

She laughed. “I guess they really must be the best, then. What time does one have to come out to get some?”

“Well, we sold out around ten, but I’ll make more of them tomorrow. And of course, I can hold a couple back for you if you’re sure you’re coming in.” Connor managed to talk and smile like she was just any other customer, but he knew that a thumbs up from Mrs. Jeffers would be a huge endorsement of the bakery.