Fic: Sauteed
Title: Sauteed
Author: fairymage
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Ouran Koukou Host Club
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Notes: Written for emcyclopedia's request for "Tamaki wants Kyouya to eat his vegetables." I think she wanted something with more pr0n, but oh well. Foreplay added in for yukishuii.
“You expect me to eat this?”
“Well… yes?”
“Tamaki. You cannot seriously expect me to put this in my mouth.” Kyouya flipped some of the carrots disdainfully.
“But…” Tamaki’s eyes were threatening to fall out. “I MADE THEM JUST FOR YOU!” he wailed.
Kyouya closed his eyes and sighed, fighting the urge to rub his temples in aggravation. Really. Tamaki’s stupidity never ceased to amaze him. Kyouya had accepted his invitation to dinner assuming it would be edible. “I appreciate the sentiment, Tamaki, but these are unacceptable.”
Tamaki flailed dramatically, clinging to the back of Kyouya’s chair. “But but but! They were made with sesame oil and oregano and thyme and paprika and chili pepper and salt and ALL MY LOVE. You don’t love me,” he concluded, and in an instant was huddled in a corner, his personal cloud of doom hovering just over his shoulder.
Kyouya fought the new urge to bang his head repeatedly against the very nice and very expensive redwood dinner table. Or possibly to throw his fine silver fork at Tamaki, who made a very good target.
“Tamaki, this has nothing to do with love,” he said, slowly and clearly in hopes that it would somehow make sense to Tamaki (it wouldn’t, he already knew that, but reason and logic were necessary in order to retain his sanity). “It has everything to do with edibility. I. Cannot. Eat. These.”
“WHY NOT?”
Kyouya wanted to groan. There were very few things he wouldn’t eat merely on principle. He’d eaten that fast food with Haruhi, hadn’t he? Food was a necessity to survival, everyone knew that. It was merely that Tamaki had obviously not tasted his own… concoction.
“Have you tried this, Tamaki?” he asked, waving at his food with his fork.
Sniffling, Tamaki shook his head. Kyouya stabbed a wilted carrot and shoved it at Tamaki’s face.
“But I followed the directions!” Tamaki howled miserably.
Kyouya raised an eyebrow. “Directions from… whom?”
“Ha~ru~hi~” Tamaki sang happily, radiating little pink hearts.
Kyouya seriously doubted Tamaki’s claim. Well, no. Tamaki probably had intended to get the recipe from Haruhi, but Kyouya strongly suspected someone else (or two someone elses, more likely) had gotten their hands on it before Tamaki and taken creative license with it.
“Well, whether or not you followed the directions, this is still completely inedible. I refuse to eat them. It. Whatever it used to be.”
Tamaki frowned, and a little pout was beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. Kyouya hesitated to tell Tamaki that he was really rather cute when he pouted like that.
“But you have to eat your vegetables.”
Kyouya raised an eyebrow. Oh, was that how this was going to go?
“Why, Tamaki?”
Tamaki visibly perked up a little. He was making progress with Kyouya! “Because it’s healthy!” he announced proudly, as if he were a third grader explaining why he’d just eaten his brussel sprouts.
Kyouya paused to give the impression that he was pondering Tamaki’s assertion. In fact, he was trying to figure a way out of this. He was not, under any circumstances save those threatening his life, going to eat these… vegetables. But Tamaki had appealed to reason, which Kyouya could not very well argue with. Tamaki’s vegetables were most certainly not healthy (rather, they were likely toxic at some level), but vegetables themselves were healthy, and part of a good diet-which Kyouya was quite certain he kept.
“Very well.” He set down his napkin and made to stand, which sent Tamaki into a panic.
“BUT KYOUYA! YOUR VEGGIES!”
“I will eat vegetables,” he assured Tamaki. “Just not these.” Tamaki deflated. So he hadn’t won after all… Kyouya didn’t love him…
“Are you coming?” Kyouya called. He was already out the door and halfway to the kitchen. He could hear Tamaki scrambling after him, sliding against the sleek wood floors, and crashing into at least one doorway.
“Kyou~ya,” Tamaki pleaded, jumping up and down, trying to see what Kyouya was doing in the kitchen. “What are we doing?”
“We are not doing anything,” Kyouya corrected, digging around in the refrigerator for vegetables. “I am going to make my own vegetables. You can either watch quietly and try to learn, or you can simply stay out of the way so as to not hurt anything.”
Tamaki’s jaw dropped to the floor. Kyouya pretended he couldn’t see and studied his selection of knives.
“Ky-Kyo-KYOUYA CAN COOK?” Tamaki yelled.
Kyouya rolled his eyes and started chopping. “Yes. There are certain skills everyone should know.”
Tamaki began to sparkle. “OKAAAAAAAAAAAASAN!” he cried happily, looking ready to fling himself at his best friend. Kyouya narrowed his eyes and let the light flash off his glasses and knife. “Of course Okaa-san can cook!” Tamaki bubbled happily, restraining himself for the time being.
Kyouya finished expertly chopping the vegetables, then easily slid them into a pan to sauté. Without saying a word or referring to a recipe, he oiled and seasoned them, with Tamaki looking on in complete awe. When it was done, he slipped them onto a plate and stalked back to the dining room. He set the plate down, a little loudly, then sat back in his chair, with no apparent intent of eating.
“Well?” he asked, glancing critically between Tamaki and the still-warm plate.
“Well… what?” Tamaki asked, blinking down at the plate of carrots and squash and tomatoes.
Kyouya grinned slyly. This evening wasn’t going to be a complete waste, if he had anything to say about it. “Well, I made the vegetables… so I think it only fair that you feed them to me.”
Tamaki caught on quickly. He generally did when it came to these sorts of things (although sometimes he didn’t, and that was simply too embarrassing for words). He immediately donned his Host Club persona as he smiled at Kyouya.
“From your lap?”
Kyouya closed his eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. “That, I suppose, would be acceptable.”
Immediately Tamaki was settling his lithe body against Kyouya’s, straddling his thighs comfortably. He sighed softly as Kyouya began gently brushing his fingers against Tamaki’s crotch, and started shifting and grinding sensually in response. Kyouya was watching him, though, so he without stopping he opened his eyes and held up a forkful of vegetables.
“Here… Kyouya,” he murmured breathlessly, eagerly riding Kyouya’s thighs. “Just… what you… ordered…”
Slowly and surely Kyouya closed his mouth around the fork, massaging Tamaki through his pants just a little harder as he did so. Tamaki whimpered and squirmed impatiently, but Kyouya just smiled.
After all, he’d gone through all the trouble of making his vegetables. He might as well eat them, too.
Omake
The next day Tamaki danced into the Third Music Room, swinging two wrapped lunches. Everyone except for Kyouya stared.
He held them out to the twins, who looked at each other, then back at their senpai in confusion.
“Kyouya’s teaching me how to cook!” Tamaki announced triumphantly. “And we decided that you two would be the lucky recipients of today’s Super Special lunch!”
The twins warily took the bento being shoved at them. Then they glanced suspiciously at Kyouya.
Kyouya grinned wickedly.
“You must try it. His fried egg is even better than his fried vegetables.”
Author: fairymage
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Ouran Koukou Host Club
Pairing: Kyouya/Tamaki
Notes: Written for emcyclopedia's request for "Tamaki wants Kyouya to eat his vegetables." I think she wanted something with more pr0n, but oh well. Foreplay added in for yukishuii.
“You expect me to eat this?”
“Well… yes?”
“Tamaki. You cannot seriously expect me to put this in my mouth.” Kyouya flipped some of the carrots disdainfully.
“But…” Tamaki’s eyes were threatening to fall out. “I MADE THEM JUST FOR YOU!” he wailed.
Kyouya closed his eyes and sighed, fighting the urge to rub his temples in aggravation. Really. Tamaki’s stupidity never ceased to amaze him. Kyouya had accepted his invitation to dinner assuming it would be edible. “I appreciate the sentiment, Tamaki, but these are unacceptable.”
Tamaki flailed dramatically, clinging to the back of Kyouya’s chair. “But but but! They were made with sesame oil and oregano and thyme and paprika and chili pepper and salt and ALL MY LOVE. You don’t love me,” he concluded, and in an instant was huddled in a corner, his personal cloud of doom hovering just over his shoulder.
Kyouya fought the new urge to bang his head repeatedly against the very nice and very expensive redwood dinner table. Or possibly to throw his fine silver fork at Tamaki, who made a very good target.
“Tamaki, this has nothing to do with love,” he said, slowly and clearly in hopes that it would somehow make sense to Tamaki (it wouldn’t, he already knew that, but reason and logic were necessary in order to retain his sanity). “It has everything to do with edibility. I. Cannot. Eat. These.”
“WHY NOT?”
Kyouya wanted to groan. There were very few things he wouldn’t eat merely on principle. He’d eaten that fast food with Haruhi, hadn’t he? Food was a necessity to survival, everyone knew that. It was merely that Tamaki had obviously not tasted his own… concoction.
“Have you tried this, Tamaki?” he asked, waving at his food with his fork.
Sniffling, Tamaki shook his head. Kyouya stabbed a wilted carrot and shoved it at Tamaki’s face.
“But I followed the directions!” Tamaki howled miserably.
Kyouya raised an eyebrow. “Directions from… whom?”
“Ha~ru~hi~” Tamaki sang happily, radiating little pink hearts.
Kyouya seriously doubted Tamaki’s claim. Well, no. Tamaki probably had intended to get the recipe from Haruhi, but Kyouya strongly suspected someone else (or two someone elses, more likely) had gotten their hands on it before Tamaki and taken creative license with it.
“Well, whether or not you followed the directions, this is still completely inedible. I refuse to eat them. It. Whatever it used to be.”
Tamaki frowned, and a little pout was beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. Kyouya hesitated to tell Tamaki that he was really rather cute when he pouted like that.
“But you have to eat your vegetables.”
Kyouya raised an eyebrow. Oh, was that how this was going to go?
“Why, Tamaki?”
Tamaki visibly perked up a little. He was making progress with Kyouya! “Because it’s healthy!” he announced proudly, as if he were a third grader explaining why he’d just eaten his brussel sprouts.
Kyouya paused to give the impression that he was pondering Tamaki’s assertion. In fact, he was trying to figure a way out of this. He was not, under any circumstances save those threatening his life, going to eat these… vegetables. But Tamaki had appealed to reason, which Kyouya could not very well argue with. Tamaki’s vegetables were most certainly not healthy (rather, they were likely toxic at some level), but vegetables themselves were healthy, and part of a good diet-which Kyouya was quite certain he kept.
“Very well.” He set down his napkin and made to stand, which sent Tamaki into a panic.
“BUT KYOUYA! YOUR VEGGIES!”
“I will eat vegetables,” he assured Tamaki. “Just not these.” Tamaki deflated. So he hadn’t won after all… Kyouya didn’t love him…
“Are you coming?” Kyouya called. He was already out the door and halfway to the kitchen. He could hear Tamaki scrambling after him, sliding against the sleek wood floors, and crashing into at least one doorway.
“Kyou~ya,” Tamaki pleaded, jumping up and down, trying to see what Kyouya was doing in the kitchen. “What are we doing?”
“We are not doing anything,” Kyouya corrected, digging around in the refrigerator for vegetables. “I am going to make my own vegetables. You can either watch quietly and try to learn, or you can simply stay out of the way so as to not hurt anything.”
Tamaki’s jaw dropped to the floor. Kyouya pretended he couldn’t see and studied his selection of knives.
“Ky-Kyo-KYOUYA CAN COOK?” Tamaki yelled.
Kyouya rolled his eyes and started chopping. “Yes. There are certain skills everyone should know.”
Tamaki began to sparkle. “OKAAAAAAAAAAAASAN!” he cried happily, looking ready to fling himself at his best friend. Kyouya narrowed his eyes and let the light flash off his glasses and knife. “Of course Okaa-san can cook!” Tamaki bubbled happily, restraining himself for the time being.
Kyouya finished expertly chopping the vegetables, then easily slid them into a pan to sauté. Without saying a word or referring to a recipe, he oiled and seasoned them, with Tamaki looking on in complete awe. When it was done, he slipped them onto a plate and stalked back to the dining room. He set the plate down, a little loudly, then sat back in his chair, with no apparent intent of eating.
“Well?” he asked, glancing critically between Tamaki and the still-warm plate.
“Well… what?” Tamaki asked, blinking down at the plate of carrots and squash and tomatoes.
Kyouya grinned slyly. This evening wasn’t going to be a complete waste, if he had anything to say about it. “Well, I made the vegetables… so I think it only fair that you feed them to me.”
Tamaki caught on quickly. He generally did when it came to these sorts of things (although sometimes he didn’t, and that was simply too embarrassing for words). He immediately donned his Host Club persona as he smiled at Kyouya.
“From your lap?”
Kyouya closed his eyes and shrugged nonchalantly. “That, I suppose, would be acceptable.”
Immediately Tamaki was settling his lithe body against Kyouya’s, straddling his thighs comfortably. He sighed softly as Kyouya began gently brushing his fingers against Tamaki’s crotch, and started shifting and grinding sensually in response. Kyouya was watching him, though, so he without stopping he opened his eyes and held up a forkful of vegetables.
“Here… Kyouya,” he murmured breathlessly, eagerly riding Kyouya’s thighs. “Just… what you… ordered…”
Slowly and surely Kyouya closed his mouth around the fork, massaging Tamaki through his pants just a little harder as he did so. Tamaki whimpered and squirmed impatiently, but Kyouya just smiled.
After all, he’d gone through all the trouble of making his vegetables. He might as well eat them, too.
Omake
The next day Tamaki danced into the Third Music Room, swinging two wrapped lunches. Everyone except for Kyouya stared.
He held them out to the twins, who looked at each other, then back at their senpai in confusion.
“Kyouya’s teaching me how to cook!” Tamaki announced triumphantly. “And we decided that you two would be the lucky recipients of today’s Super Special lunch!”
The twins warily took the bento being shoved at them. Then they glanced suspiciously at Kyouya.
Kyouya grinned wickedly.
“You must try it. His fried egg is even better than his fried vegetables.”