Chase Atlantic One Shots

Slice Me Open

Words: 1471

Written: August 2, 2021

Summary: Mitchel and Christian have some fun with kitchen utensils.

⚠️ Smut and Trigger Warning (mention of blood)⚠️

Christian dom, Mitchel sub/brat :)

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   The oil sizzles out of the hot frying pan as Christian slides the diced onions in. The knife scrapes across the plastic cutting board, pushing the last onion piece into the oil.

   "Can you pass me the garlic powder?" Christan twists his head to ask Mitchel who is sitting on the barstool at the counter.

   "Sure," Mitchel mumbles as he glances up from his phone.

   Mitchel topples over to the spice cabinet. He swings the wooden door open, exposing the multitude of spices the two boys have collected throughout the years.

   "You said garlic powder?" Mitchel extracts out the shaker label 'Chopped Dried Garlic'.

   "Yes." Christian stirs the cooking onions.

   "Does this work?" Mitchel shows the bottle to Christian.

   Christian takes the shaker out of Mitchel's hand and heads towards the spice cabinet. He sets the shaker in the empty spot and pulls out the bottle next to it.

   "Garlic powder." Christian walks back to the stove and shakes the powder across the onions.

   "Sorry bub, I guess I didn't see it." Mitchel hoists himself onto the counter, letting his feet dandle against the cabinet doors.

   "What are you doing?" Christian asks.

   "Sitting?" Mitchel twirls his feet through the air.

   "Get off the counter." Christian demands.

   "Why's that?"

   "Because I said get your ass off the kitchen counter." Christian hisses as he proceeds to watch the frying pan.

   "What if I don't wanna?" Mitchel mumbles.

   Christian quickly looks up from the stove and wraps his hand around Mitchel's throat. Squeezing the flesh around Mitchel's throat, Christian pushes the squirming boy back.

   "I said get off the counter." Christian glares at Mitchel.

   Christian turns back to the stove and continues to stir the now cooked onions. Mitchel shuffles himself closer to the edge of the counter but stops.

   "No..." Mitchel whispers.

   "What did you say?" Christian's voice lowers as he slowly removes his gaze off the stove.

   "I said no." Mitchel crosses his arms and raises his head, "Make me."

   Christian switches off the stove and grabs the closest thing to his hand. He slides the knife on the counter, gripping the handle tightly in his warm palm. 

   "Get off the counter, bub. Last time I'll say this." Christan's voice stays steady.

   "Make me!" Mitchel giggles as the brat in him emerges.

   Christian whips his hand that holds the knife up. He abruptly brings the blade up to Mitchel's throat. A small moan escapes Mitchel's mouth as he feels the cold metal collide with his skin. The sharp blade pushes against his skin, teasing him.