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    Summary

    “Can you tell what that one is?” Steve asks, sounding more breathless than he should, lost in focus on the fullness of Eddie’s lips.

    “Pasta?” Eddie guesses at first, his voice on the hoarse side as well, not faring any better than Steve. He shakes his head and tries again. “Nah, lasagna, right? It’s good.”

    Steve giggles, like actually fucking giggles, like a goddamn schoolgirl, and presses his forehead to Eddie’s. “Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!”

    “Oh. Is this the game?” Steve can’t see his eyes but he can feel that mischievous glint in them radiating off of Eddie in waves. This must be killing him. Or, at least, driving him crazy, based on the way he tightens his grip on Steve and pulls him down to grind his erection against Steve’s growing one. “Or is this?”

    Steve tuts at him and stands, peeling Eddie’s hands from his waist. “I told you, it’s not that kind of game.”

    ____________

     

    Or: Steve cooks the “family” a nice dinner, but makes the mistake of teasing Eddie while doing so. Don’t fret, he learns his lesson.

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