Recipe for Love: Breakfast in Bed {BoyxBoy} [ON HOLD TEMPORARILY]

Cue twinkly-dreamy flashback music!

I stirred in my sleep, attempting to turn onto my side but failing, something pinching at the skin on my wrists. Swearing through gritted teeth, I tried to find the cause of my inability to move, but I was unable to see. I was blind!

“The feck is going on?!” I shouted, panicking, “Stuart? What did you do?”

There was no answer but I could here a quite shuffling in the room and a dull thud somewhere close quickened my heart. I could smell something odd - unfamiliar - and the air tasted like feet. It wasn’t pleasant.

“Whoever’s there, I do not appreciate being kidnapped! I’ll have you know my gorgeous hunk of a boyfriend shall be hunting you down at this very moment and, when he gets here, you will die a slow and painful death! And then I’ll shit in your mouth!” I screamed, defiantly. No way was I going to let a dirty kidnapper-man scare me.

A muffled chuckle told me the kidnapper was somewhere close, taunting me... Bitch! My rapid pulse stopped suddenly, as if time had stopped, when two soft lips pressed against mine. To voice my lack of approval, I let out a strange, extremely unattractive, noise – somewhere between an angry pig and a giddy seal – before the kiss deepened. Those lips... That fruity taste...

“Stuart, you knob-rot!” I howled, “What are you doing?”

Laughing, he removed the blindfold and winked at me. My eyes stung from the sudden assault of light but, when they had adjusted, I glanced around. I was lying in bed, hands tied to the headboard with red material, with no covers. The only thing preventing complete exposure was my ultimately sexy pair of Pac-Man boxers.

Stuart retrieved another piece of material from the bedside cabinet and placed it gently between my lips and tying it behind my head, effectively gagging me. I had no idea what was going on but... I kinda liked it!

I watched, unable to move or speak, as Stuart walked towards the bathroom. He had showered recently as his chestnut hair was damp and messy. He was wearing a pair of plain black boxers, the ‘trunk’ kind. They were my favourites as, not only were they super comfy, they tend to be quite snug and show off all the right parts. They look even better on Stuart.

He returned carrying a tray and placed onto the table nearby, then stretched. I traced my gaze over his body watching the muscles flexing with his movements, slight but defined, and noticed a mischievous glint in his eyes. He removed something from the tray and knelt at my side.

“Good morning, babe,” he whispered, “Ready for breakfast?”

I would be if you moved that frigging foot-candle!