A Magical Roleplaying Experience 

 #33412  by Aksel Larsen
Location: Wexler-Larsen flat • Date: December 20th 2023
Time of Day: 17.00 • Weather: Starry sky, cold outside

They were running out of time. It was five o'clock already, and they still had the Pebber Nodder to make. Aksel had come home a little later than anticipated. Christmas lights had always distracted him, and he couldn't help but enter every brightly lit shop on his way. He justified this to himself by buying Beckham an extra present. Most nights they ended in bed reading, and if Aksel mostly liked to finish his day reading comic books, Beck was a bit more serious in his reading material. Hopefully the biography of Lars Ulrich of Metallica -in English- would be a good read during the holidays.

Aksel needed to take a shower, too. He was up to his forearms in flour, and he had to change, anyway. Not that there was going to be anything chic about his clothes at the party: just fresh jeans, boxers, a fresh undershirt, and a ridiculous Christmas sweater he'd just bought, which was still in his reusable bag. He'd laid the rest down on the bed for now, but they needed to get moving.

Luckily this recipe wasn't too long to make.

'Bamse, can you, uh, scratch my nose and pass me the cardamom?'
 #33475  by Beckham Wexler
Fresh out of the shower, Beckham was standing in front of the ensuite mirror. He tucked his pale denim shirt inside his indigo pants, straightened his bowtie and buttoned his brown leather suspenders onto his pants. It was nothing fancy, he'd label his style as cocktail-casual.

Once he had managed his hair, Beck joined his husband in the kitchen.

"A nose scratch," he announced as he offered what had been requested. "And the cardamom?" His hand hovered over a bunch of ingredients as he read labels in an attempt to identify the item that was required.
 #33487  by Aksel Larsen
Aksel was measuring two and a half cups of flour when Backham joined him, and almost dropped the cup as he jumped in surprise. He briefly scowled at the work surface, as though it were to blame, then looked up to beam at his lovely husband, accepting the scratching with gratitude.

'Oh, someone's dressed to impress,' he said as he looked Beck up and down with a grin. 'Is that what you're wearing? You're gonna get flour all over yourself, Bamse.' On one hand, Aksel could desperately use the help, but on the other, he didn't want Beckham to be all dirty. Not when he was looking so good. Mmm.

'Yes, cardamom,' he repeated, measuring a cup of sugar. 'And cinammon, I put it somewhere, but I don't remember where. And could you hand me two eggs?'
 #33497  by Beckham Wexler
"I can help without getting dirty," he promised without hesitation. One of the skills he had acquired as a boy raised in a superficial milieu had been to enjoy playful activities without staining his clothes. Climbing trees and playing in the mud had not been activities his parents would have approved of, but Beckham had pursued those thrills none the less. Usually in the company of his sister.

It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he found the ingredients. "What do you need next?"
 #33508  by Aksel Larsen
'Fine,' Aksel grinned. He poured the sugar in the big bowl where he'd already put a cup of butter, and started mixing them together until the mixture was smooth.

'Now crack the eggs into the bowl one at a time,' he ordered gently. His black t-shirt was covered in flour, and there was quite a lot of chocolate on the corner of his mouth from testing previous recipes, but he didn't know it.
 #33525  by Beckham Wexler
"I can do that," Beckham beamed proudly as he took the first egg.

Once the two eggs had been cracked and dispensed, Beckham turned to his husband. As he waited for his next orders he noticed he chocolate around Aksel's mouth. "Tested our ingredients have we?" He chuckled as he moved closer to his husband. His hand rested on Aksel's cheek as his thumb brushed the chocolate stain.
 #33534  by Aksel Larsen
Aksel returned Beck's smile as he whisked the eggs dutifully. The mixture was becoming lighter and fluffier. He was focusing on his whisking when his husband's hand found his cheek. He flushed a bit. Chocolate was too good to pass up.

'That's ridiculous, Bamse, I would never do that. No idea how that could have got there.' His guilty grin said otherwise. 'Would you mind wiping it off?' He pointed to the tablecloth on the counter with his chin. That movement had brought his lips to Beckham's fingertip, and he gave it a light kiss.
 #33544  by Beckham Wexler
With a different technique in mind, Beckham grabbed Aksel's shirt and pulled him closer. "No idea how it got there uh, big guy?" Fists curled around his husband's shirt, he kissed the corner his lips. His moist lips tasted like chocolate. "Good chocolate too," he critiqued before he kissed him again.
 #33571  by Aksel Larsen
Aksel grinned extremely happily when Beckham decided to wipe off the chocolate alternatively. He approved of this method.

'Never seen it before in my life,' he replied, sliding himself between his husband and the counter. The kiss felt like teasing. Just the corner of his lips? 'I think I have some more on my lips,' Aksel mumbled, closing his eyes, and gave in to this new kiss hungrily. He had to fight the urge to cup Beck's face with his dirty hands, and slammed them on the counter behind him instead, neither knowing nor caring where they landed.
 #33726  by Beckham Wexler
"I'd confess if I were you," he suggested as if offering crucial advice.

Trapping his husband between himself and the counter, Beckham pressed his chest against Aksel's. His shirt would likely be full of flour, but he did not mind. He would magically clean it. This would be one of the rare times when he'd use magic to fix a simple problem. He might be putting it all at risk, yet somehow his imminent arousal managed to convince him that it was all worth it.

His hands traveled a well-traveled trek, one he did not tire from. They would likely be a little late to the party, but Beckham could simply not resist.
 #33766  by Aksel Larsen
Aksel held his breath as his husband pressed himself against him. He felt the proximity in all his body. There was no space between them, and yet still too much.

'Make me,' came the Dane's reply as he forced his hands to remain where they were. Hungrily his mouth reached out for Beckham's, and he gently bit the other man's lower lip. He pressed himself into his husband. The cookies would have to wait.