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Barry stopped suddenly in the kitchen, seeing that Len was fully dressed and indeed baking cookies. Clearly what he thought was a euphemism really wasn’t in actuality.
“Oh, uhh… I, I’m gonna go and change,” Barry muttered in embarrassment, wearing only a red apron and nothing else.
Len snickered, fondly. “We may have had different ideas on what “baking cookies” would entail, but I don’t see the need to cover up that ass,” Len finished unashamedly.
Barry felt the heat creep into his cheeks, as it did every time he got flustered/aroused/embarrassed/scandalised by how blunt Len was with his want of him.
Len put the tray on the side and slid the cookies on to a wire rack to cool. Turning back around, Len grabbed Barry around the waist and kissed him deeply. “Wanna help me ice these?” he asked while squeezing a good handful of Barry’s pert round ass.
Barry squeaked a little, although he would deny making that noise later. “Uhh, shouldn’t I change though?”
“Well you can,” Len started, “but there’s nothing hot you can burn yourself with. Worst that could happen is you get icing somewhere and I need to lick it off, and I don’t exactly see that as a problem. Do you?” He finished in a flirty tone with a slight head tilt.
Barry felt himself flush even more so than before. “Uhhh,” he swallowed to allow himself to form words again. Sometimes he wished he had Len’s level of smoothness, with regards to flirting and just generally. “I guess not then,” Barry decided.