#baker!mike

“---Wha?”

“I do a little geography lesson with my World History classes.” Ben explained, continuing through tracing the state of West Virginia, “I’m just…testing myself.”

Mike sighed as Ben’s tracing took him around one of his nipples. He had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t just a reviewing session. “And what state was that?”

“Missouri.”

Ben’s finger began to take wider strokes and take up more space on Mike’s body.

Mike leaned up on his elbows to look at Ben. “Tell me, do these tests also deal with topography?”

“Oh sure,” Ben replied cheerily, now using more fingers to illustrate. “Mount Rushmore, Black Hills,” Mike gasped as Ben started to drag his tongue straight down his midsection.

“A river of some sort?” Mike squeaked as Ben paused at his belly button, biting lightly at the skin there.

“The Mississippi,” Ben replied casually, before continuing to drag his tongue until he encountered Mike’s erection, sticking straight up. Ben pressed a kiss to the tip, “And, here’s The Space Needle.”

Mike sat up with an amused look on his face, “The Space Needle isn’t a topographic landmark and is NOWHERE near the—ohhGOD—” Mike fell back onto the bed, moaning loudly, as Ben had taken him into his mouth in one go. “Jesus, warn a man -”

Ben only laughed, the sound muffled by Mike’s cock in his mouth. He swirled a tongue about the tip before opening his mouth wider to take more of Mike into his mouth. Ben trailed a hand up to entwine with Mike’s as he continued to pleasure his love. The sounds of Mike sighing and moaning spurred Ben on, pushing him to give it as good as Mike had hours ago. He pulled his mouth back, letting his free hand continue to stroke Mike as he took in the sight of his love with his head thrown back, lost in the sensations.

He felt his breath catch as those green eyes turned to look into his blue, a crooked grin on that handsome Irish face. Ben leaned up to kiss those full lips, his hand still stroking at Mike’s hard member. He smiled into those lips as he felt Mike’s hand pull away to cradle his face in his big hands, controlling the kiss as he saw fit.

“What do you need, Michael?” Ben asked as they pulled away for air.

“You know what I need.”

“Think the baby minds that I keep invading?”

“He’s just a clump of cells right now - he’ll just think it’s turbulence.” Mike planted his feet on the bed, slotting Ben between his legs. “This a good enough clue, Mr. Stone?”

Ben said nothing at first but released his grip on Mike’s cock to reposition himself better, before reaching over to where they’d left the lube. Mike closed his eyes in pleasure as Ben took his time in slicking himself up while preparing Mike.

“You think it’s a boy?” Ben asked, conversationally, as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out, driving his lover mad.

“G-god, what do you think?”

“I wouldn’t mind a girl, either.” Ben teased, his fingers bending and searching before finding the clump of nerves that caused Mike to cry out.

“M-me neither…Jesus, Ben,” Mike groaned, “You’re terrible, you know that -”

“Patience is a virtue, my love,” Ben kidded, still stretching.

“And payback is a bitch, Stone.”

“Ooh, language.”

Mike growled, pulling Ben down to kiss him hungrily, satisfied in the dazed look in those blue eyes as they parted. “I want you. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Ben agreed, carefully beginning to press into Mike’s entrance. He enjoyed how Mike’s body reacted to their physical connection, watching how that body flowed with him in unison. Ben covered his love with his body, carefully rolling his hips, Mike’s arms tight around him, those delicious little gasps and sighs tickling Ben in the little recesses of his brain, completely devoid of thought and focused only on sensation.

This connection - this is where Ben always longed to be, held in the arms of his love, his love, his heaven. His Michael. The one bearing their child. His forever.

Forever. Ben and Mike wanted this connection to be forever, their lovemaking to stretch to the end of time, but as their breathing began to quicken, the need to come came roaring in like a river. Ben bent down, gasping, to kiss Mike, their tongues twining in between moans. Ben leaned up and began to quicken his pace, hammering into Mike, watching him intently, telling his how amazing he felt, how much he loved him, his forever, and Mike was suddenly coming, untouched, crying out as he bent his head back, lost in the overwhelming sensations of his orgasm.

Ben followed soon after, gasping and sputtering, coming deep into Mike. Once spent, he draped himself about Mike, not quite caring about anything else in that moment, just the blissful sensations of yet another overwhelming orgasm. He pressed a butterfly-soft kiss to Mike’s jaw, nuzzling into his neck.

You stumble over your words a bit when usually you’d be in a hurry to get them out. You finally decide. “A blueberry muffin, please.”

You see a tilt of a smile as he looks down to the baked goods below and comes back with your order; wraps it in a thin sheet of paper and asks if it’s for here or to go. You notice the tables by the windows, each one with a vase of flowers and natural sunlight. Some have chairs with comfortable cushions and the others have booth seats that seem inviting. The bag on your shoulder is heavy; filled with your academics. The tables seem a nice place to study. In your determination to enjoy the breeze you choose to stay. You tell him it’s for here and pay and try not to think about the brush of your fingers against his when he hands the muffin over.

You find a home at a booth, bag resting on the seat beside you as you take a moment to savor the burst of blueberry and sugar on the top of your tongue. You decide in that moment that slowing down and taking your time is worth every second spent. You face toward the counter and kitchen door, opting to face away from the street where a busy city lurks beyond. A sense of calm clings to you as you finish the baked good and decide to stay a while longer—wanting to try the iced coffee Ashton raves about and settle in to pace yourself on work stacked in your bag. You find solace in the quiet yet a nervous energy settles and sparks in you any time Michael makes his way out of the kitchen as a few customers come and go. By the time you’re ready to leave you catch eyes with him one more time and he waves, a small smile giving you a goodbye and a reason to come back the next day.

And so the bakery becomes a new habit—the best way to break one is to replace it with another. Rushing melts away and the bakery becomes a beacon of downtime. Michael becomes a person you look forward to seeing. In a sense he becomes routine. Just as easy as rushing. You always exchange glances when he peeks out from the kitchen to inspect the run of the bakery. He usually blushes when you catch gazes, cheeks going rosy and a timid smile capturing his features. You see the smile in his eyes, green glinting and glimmering with a bashfulness that endears and intrigues you. There’s a lot you wish to know about Michael.

He knows enough about you through your interactions. How you take your coffee, that you prefer hot chocolate to it but need the caffeine to keep you going. Why blueberry anything is the superior choice. He’s even asked about your work and classes, about the books you seem to carry with you all the time. He’s eyes are observant and his mind has flawlessly put together small pieces of you. Weeks pass in a hazy blur as you learn to slow down and spend more and more time at the bakery. Breaks from work lead you there. Mornings before and nights after usually have you stopping in.

There’s an air of mystery and elusiveness that follows the baker. What you know is minimal and trivial, even as the weeks pass and more than simple hello’s and please and thank you’s become exchanged. He seems guarded and you have no reason as to why that might be so. But you find yourself coming back consistently. Now a regular that walks in and is recognized by any and all staff. You sit in your usual booth and after catching gazes with Michael multiple times you wonder if the stirring of feelings that have made way into you are completely one sided. Maybe all he sees in you is a customer. Maybe it is purely business for him. Maybe slowing down has put a hazy sheen on reality when you’re so used to fast paces.

Your pencil taps along a text book page as your thoughts consume you, eyes glued to the menu board and teeth sunken into your lower lip. It isn’t until a small voice from below breaks through your reverie that you find familiar eyes. Gentle green stares up at you behind a mess of blond hair. A boy not but three or four reaches up, a small muffin in his clutches. It takes a moment for you to realize he’s offering the baked good to you. As soon as you reach for it Michael is bursting through the kitchen door and racing over to the child, scooping him up and trying his best to apologize and inform you that wasn’t supposed to be for a customer, just practice for his son.

In one snap moment all the haze clears but new questions take hold of your mind. You realize why he’s so guarded but have to question if there’s a reason he never told you. You realize it doesn’t matter for the moment. Not when a child’s innocent eyes are pinned on you; awaiting a reaction to the muffin still in your loose grip. You know Michael said it’s not meant for you but the look in his son’s eyes clearly says that it is. You take a small bite and grin, compliment the good work and hear Michael sigh in relief as he sets his son back down.

“Blueberry’s your favorite right? That’s what dad says.”

You nod and feel a rush of warmth at the question and the fact that Michael has spoken of you in any capacity to his son.

“Riley, bud—why don’t you go behind the counter. There’s some cookies you can have,” Michael suggests with a blush that also suggests his embarrassment at the situation. Riley takes off and Michael calls after him. “Only two!”

Michael turns back to you with anxiety written clearly across his face. His hands wring at each other and his eyes flicker to the booth seat opposite you. You motion for him to sit; curious what he might say.

“I’m sorry about all of that; he’s usually pretty good at sticking with me. He’s just a little excited today,” Michael explains and you arch an eyebrow.

You close your textbook, the prospect of studying blown out the window in a new whirlwind created by a four year old. You can feel your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. You never expected Michael to have a kid.

Michael goes on to explain and settle the nerves that seem to have exploded through you. “I usually only get him on the weekends and in summer. But his mom’s on her honeymoon and I get him for a whole week. He loves the bakery; getting to come with me every day has gotten him a bit unruly. All the sugar...” Michael says with a pointed look at the counter where another worker stands while Riley sits and eats his allotted two cookies.

Michael keeps explaining and it’s as if whatever guards he had up come crashing down. He tells you all about Riley and co-parenting. That he and the bakery take up most of his time and you realize that maybe he was living in a rush and whirlwind too. And by the way his eyes stay on yours and hands fidget on the tabletop you wonder if he doesn’t just see you as a customer and that’s why he stayed guarded for so long. To protect his whirlwind and everything within it; mostly Riley. You understand his reason as he comes barreling back to Michael, coloring books and a pack of crayons in hand.

“Can I color here?” He asks and climbs up into the booth and clears Michael’s lap to settle by the wall before an answer can be formed.

You grin and try your best to bite back a laugh as Michael tries to reason with him and tell him he shouldn’t disturb anyone. Riley merely blinks and looks to you to see if it’s okay. You nod your approval and enjoy your time with Michael and Riley. You’re in no rush to leave; wanting to use any time with them to the fullest.

A new routine forms throughout the week. It’s much of the same but with company. You sit in your usual booth and Riley sits opposite you. Textbooks and coloring books, graphite pencils and crayons spilled among the shared table. Michael often checks on Riley. And from that he ends up spending time with you. Everyday you learn more about them. Everyday your whirlwinds become more and more intertwined. Riley sometimes draws you pictures, the one of Michael with hands three times the size of his head and two left feet being your favorite. Riley mirrors Michael in a lot of ways you come to realize; the same laugh and sincerity in green eyes.

By the end of the week you realize Riley won’t be there come Monday and know that you’ll miss his company and the excuse for Michael to constantly check in. It’s just as you’re about to leave that Michael stops you, a sheepish expression and rosy cheeks, nervous hands and Riley by his side.

“We uh—“ Michael starts, clearly anxious. “We wanted to know if you’d like to go to dinner with us tonight?”

Your stomach flutters and heart races at the invitation. But Michael’s continuing on before you can say yes.

“And lunch, with me… tomorrow?”

You break out into a grin and nod enthusiastically; ever grateful for sweet meetings with blueberry muffins and time taken to enjoy the breeze. 

You can already feel Michael’s whirlwind sweeping you off your feet.

***

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