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Make Everything Taste (Like the Sweetener You Are)

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Markus knows how to cook.

It makes Connor a little bit jealous, if he's being honest. They're both prototypes, same series, even if they were made by different people. At least, he thinks they were. He doesn't actually know how involved Kamski was in his production.

Markus was a gift, a caretaker. He was able to run errands and clean and care for others. He doesn't need to be able to reconstruct crime scenes or analyze evidence or chase suspects across rooftops.

But Markus knows how to cook.



The first time Markus cooked for Connor was an accident. He wasn't yet used to being in the big house without its previous owner. He had come out of standby at six o'clock on the dot and immediately gone downstairs and cooked breakfast- bacon and eggs, just how Carl liked them. He hadn't even realized what he had done until he set the table.

Connor found him crying into a plate of eggs.

Now, however, Markus was flying around Hank Anderson's kitchen, working in a silent, synchronized dance with Simon and Kara. They had shooed the others out the moment they arrived, setting up and taking over the small space.

Connor leaned against the wall, watching. The TV was on behind him, Hank watching the game with Josh and North lounging around. Alice's laughter rang in from outside where she played with Luther and Sumo. But Connor watched the kitchen.

Watching Markus cook was fascinating. He was smooth, his movements calculated yet casual, making sure everything was perfection while managing not to bump into the other two chefs. Occasionally, he and Connor would make eye contact, and Markus would wink (with his green eye, always the green eye) and leave Connor blushing blue.

Connor stands there, mesmerized, until Kara announces that dinner is almost ready. Hank gets off the couch and shoos North and Josh off as well, assigning them and Connor different parts of the table to set. As he places silverware next to each plate that Josh lays down, Connor keeps his eyes on Markus. There's a pie in front of him, artist's hands placing delicate leaves made of dough along the top. This time, when Markus looks up, there's flour smudged on his cheek. Connor grins at him, and Markus beckons him over.

Connor sets down the last fork before going over. Markus pulls him closer by the hips, and Connor places his hand on Markus' face, wiping away the flour with his thumb.

"You made a mess, Markus."

Markus laughs softly. "It was worth it." He dips two fingers in the pot he cooked the pie filling in. "Would you like a taste?"

Connor answers by bringing Markus' fingers to his lips. He sucks them into his mouth, licking around them as his analyzers read both the taste and the chemical compound. Apples and cinnamon. Sucrose, sorbitol, cinnamaldehyde. "It's delicious."

"You know, I didn't taste it before I filled the pie." A lie, Connor knows, but he goes along with it anyway. "I should make sure it's as good as you say it is." He smiles, and then his lips are on Connor's.

Connor kisses him back, parting his lips when Markus licks across the seam. They break apart when the taste is gone from Connor's mouth, foreheads pressed together.

Behind Connor, Hank clears his throat. He smirks at the couple, arms crossed. North is stifling a laugh, Josh, Simon, and Kara have their eyes averted. Luther is standing by the back door, Alice peering around him, giggling at her ‘uncles’. Connor’s face goes dark blue when he realizes all of their friends were watching.

“If you two are done?” Hank asks, and Connor steps back from Markus. Markus goes back to the pie, making sure everything is good before putting it in the oven.

Kara and Simon bring dish after dish to the table: mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry sauce (the real stuff, not ‘that shit from the can’, according to Hank), sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, corn casserole, bread rolls, stuffing with pieces of sausage and apples in it, and, finally, a turkey. A rather large one, Connor thinks, but he doesn’t really have anything for comparison.

Hank takes his place at the head of the table. Everyone else fills in around the sides. Connor sits to Hank’s right, Markus quickly taking the spot on Connor’s other side. Markus links their fingers together.

When everyone is seated, Hank stands again. “Look, ah, i’m not great at this. I haven’t done Thanksgiving in a long time, and most of you guys have never done it at all, not the right way. It’s supposed to be about family, hanging out and eating together. Which, most of you guys haven’t done for very long. Eating, I mean.” Hank fidgets with his fingers. “What I mean to say is, thanks to you guys, I have a family again. and that means a lot. So, uh, thanks.” And with that, he sits again.

The words settle over them. They are a family, a weird, untraditional, good family.

“Can we eat now?” Alice asks, breaking the silence.

“Alice!” Kara hisses.

Hank laughs. “Yeah, kiddo. We can eat now.”

Alice’s face brightens, and she quickly starts pointing out to Kara what she wants on her plate. They all get food on their plates, chattering about anything and everything. Connor makes sure to taste and analyze everything on table at least once, finishing the things he likes (cranberries, stuffing, corn casserole, turkey, marshmallows off the sweet potatoes) and leaving the things he doesn’t (the sweet potatoes themselves, mashed potatoes).

Connor leans into Markus. “Everything is amazing.” Markus beams.

“Thank you.” His eyes flick up to Simon and Kara. “But I wasn’t the only one who cooked.”

“I know. I just like your cooking best.”

Markus squeezes Connor’s knee under the table.

“You haven’t tried the pie yet.”

 


 

The pie is even better than the brief taste of filling promised it would be. Connor has a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting over the top, adding a light, creamy sweetness to the savory-sweet of the cinnamon. He finishes the whole slice quickly, a little disappointed when it’s gone.

“That good, huh?” Markus asks, a smile on his face and half a slice of pie piled high with whipped cream on his plate. Connor nods. “Here, try this.” Markus lifts a forkful of cream-covered pie to Connor’s mouth. It’s amazing . He’s never had whipped cream before. He loves it.

When Markus isn’t looking, Connor swipes some more whipped cream off his plate with a finger, quickly sticking it in his mouth. There’s a soft giggle, and Connor looks over at Alice. He smiles playfully, putting his finger to his lips, and Alice nods, mimicking zipping her lips shut.

Connor manages to swipe Markus’ whipped cream a few more times before Markus catches him, finger in his mouth. Markus shakes his head. “If you wanted more, you could’ve asked.”

“But there isn’t any more,” Connor says, watching North spray the last bit into her mouth. She shrugs, unapologetic, and slams the can down on the table.

“Then I’ll get you more,” Markus says lowly. Hank chokes on his drink, and Connor blushes knowing his father-figure heard his boyfriend’s less-than-family-friendly comment.

They start heading home when Alice falls asleep in hank’s lap. North, Josh, and Simon take off first, North throwing a wink Connor’s way before she shuts the door behind her. Luther collects Alice and Kara once their car is sufficiently warm.

That leaves Hank, Connor, and Markus.

“I think we’re going to go as well, Hank,” Connor says. He rubs his hands together, waiting for Hank to reply.

“Be safe. And uh,” he pauses, turning to look connor dead in the eye. “Keep it outta my house next time.”

Markus laughs, and Connor buries his face into Markus’ shoulder. “Let’s go, let’s go, Markus, c’mon,” he mutters, pulling his boyfriend to the door.

“Goodbye, Hank.” Markus gives Hank a cheery wave, and then they’re in the cold.

 


 

Welcome home, Markus.

Connor wastes no time hanging up his coat and scarf, Markus following suit.

“Go wait for me upstairs,” Markus tells him. “I need to get something.”

“Okay.”

Connor jogs up the stairs to the bedroom. He takes off his sweater, laying it neatly across the back of a chair before pulling off his shoes and socks. He sits primly on the bed, waiting.

Markus comes in a minute later, whipped cream can in hand. Connor tilts his head to the side.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you I would get you more. Strip.”

“I don’t understand, Markus. Why do I-”

“Connor. Do you trust me?”

Connor swallows.

“Yes. I trust you.”

“Then strip.”

Connor does as he’s told this time, quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt before tossing that over the chair as well, followed by his pants and boxers. Markus waits on the bed, taking Connor’s vacated spot.

“Come here,” Markus instructs. Connor does. He stands between Markus’ legs, waiting, watching. Markus runs two fingers between Connor’s folds. “Amazing. You’re already soaked and you don’t even know what we’re doing yet.” Markus licks his fingers clean, and Connor whimpers, grabbing on to Markus’ shoulders.

“Markus,” Connor whines.

“Yes, Connor?”

“Just… do it.”

“Do what?” There’s a playful edge to Markus’ voice.

Connor waves his hands around. “It! This! Whatever you’re going to do, just do it!”

Markus chuckles. “Alright.”

Markus pulls the top off the whipped cream can, gives it a shake, sprays some into his mouth, and pulls Connor down for a kiss. Connor licks into his mouth immediately, trying to get as much of the cream out of Markus’ mouth and into his own. When Markus moves back, Connor moves forward, tries to chase the sweetness of Markus’ kiss. Markus stops him with a grab of Connor’s chin.

“If you’re good and stay still, I’ll let you have more.”

Connor nods enthusiastically. He’ll do anything to get another taste. Markus stands, turns Connor around and lays him out on their bed, legs hanging off the side. Markus leans over him, giving him a soft kiss on the lips, his chest, his stomach. Markus elegantly sinks to his knees, pressing a kiss to Connor’s pussy before licking a stripe from his hole to his clit. Connor wants to buck his hips up, push onto Markus’ mouth, but he forces himself not to, bunching his fists in the sheets beneath him.

Markus keeps licking. His stubble rubs against Connor’s lips, sending involuntary shivers down his spine. Connor relaxes into it, goes boneless, lets his eyes slip close. Markus isn’t trying to make him come. No, Markus is just warming him up. He sucks gently on Connor’s clit, and then something cold touches him.

Markus sprays the whipped cream on Connor, not on his clit but just above it. Connor can’t stop himself, he jerks up into Markus’ mouth. Markus pulls back and Connor whines.

“I thought I told you to stay still.”

Connor lowers himself back down. “I’m trying, I’ll do better, I’ll be better, please, I can do it.” Markus dips back down. He scrapes up the cream with his teeth, licking Connor’s clit at the same time, before bring his lips together and sucking hard. Connor cries out, but manages to keep still.

“Good boy, Connor.”

Another spray, this time up his slit, followed by another lick and hard suck at his clit. His hips stay down. More praise. More cream, over his hole. Markus makes eye contact with Connor, gently laps at it. It’s hot, so fucking hot, way better than Connor thought it would be.

“Markus, please. ” Markus’ tongue thrusts in, he sucks the cream out, and Connor screams. His back arches off the bed, his fingers scramble for purchase on the back of Markus’ head. Markus’ laugh vibrates against his pussy, and Connor needs more. “Markus, fuck me, please.”

Markus looks up. There’s a spot of whipped cream on his chin, and he licks it up and smirks at Connor. “You sure? I could do this all night.” He gives Connor a few more licks, and Connor tugs on the tops of Markus’ ears.

“Yes, I’m sure, come on.

Markus takes his time moving up Connor’s body. He sprays a trail of whipped cream up Connor’s torso, following it with his tongue. Special care and extra cream are given to his nipples, and Connor squirms as Markus sucks on them. Markus traces his tongue up the rest of Connor’s chest and neck.

A line of whipped cream is sprayed across the seam of his lips, but before Connor has the chance to lick it off, Markus is kissing him. Connor moans into the kiss, grabs Markus’ wrist when he pushes two fingers into Connor. Markus licks over every part of Connor’s mouth, curling his fingers as he rubs his tongue on the roof of Connor’s mouth. It tastes so good, feels so good, Markus, Markus, fuck, please, please!

Markus curls his fingers again. “Markus, fuck, gonna come, need you,” Connor babbles, pushing down onto the fingers inside him.

“I got you, Con.” Markus rubs his thumb over Connor’s clit, pressing down and biting his lip at the same time. “Come for me, baby.”

Connor snaps, body convulsing around Markus’ fingers, his nails digging into Markus’ arm. Markus pulls his fingers out of Connor, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.

Markus hums. “You’re still the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says, and Connor rolls his eyes, pulling Markus down for another kiss so he can taste himself. “Still want me to fuck you?” Markus asks when they pull apart.

Connor shakes his head. “No, it’d be too much.” Still kinda wobbly, Connor sits up, scooting back so Connor can follow him onto the bed. Connor undoes Markus’ belt and fly, pulling his cock out and giving it a firm stroke. “I can still get you off, though.”

“Fuck, baby, please,” Markus groans, thrusting into Connor’s hand. He weaves a hand in Connor’s hair, tipping his head back to nip and suck at his throat. Connor jacks him, root to tip, swipes a thumb over the head, twists his wrist in that way that has Markus panting “yes, yes, perfect, keep going, Con, fuck, fuck!

Markus comes over Connor’s hand, and Connor immediately brings it up and licks it clean. “Hmm… I think I like the whipped cream better,” he teases. Markus swats at Connor’s arm, smiling, and rolls off to the side. Connor flops down next to him, rolling onto his stomach to trace his fingers over Markus’ face.

“Don’t fall asleep, love,” Connor says, giving him a peck on the lips. “You’re too heavy for me to move.”

“Then don’t move.” Markus pulls him down, pinning him to his chest.

“Markus, we need to clean up.”

Markus grunts.

Connor wiggles his way out of Markus’ arms, wobbling his way to find some underwear. When he pulls them on and turns back to the bed, Markus’ clothes are on the floor. Markus is leaning against the headboard in his boxers, holding the can of whipped cream again.

“Want the rest?” Connor nods, and Markus tosses the can at him. Connor sprays the last bit into his mouth and climbs into Markus’ lap. He kisses him, making out until the taste is gone.