He places two bottles of their finest mitsu syrup on either side of dresser in front of their bed. Like a waiter, he takes both in his hands and holds them up in offering.
"Dark, or white?"
It's a question that sends her head into a tailspin every time she hears it. She knows, he has the same frustration whenever he's asked this question by their server. The white is lovely, charming...but the black is rich, powerful. Which should she choose?
Her eyes hover over the bottle in his right hand, the dark syrup. Kuromitsu. She can see her reflection, a honey-gold Dobashi staring back at her. Dark is Kantaro's favorite, and she knows this because he always orders it last, to savor the rich Okinawa brown sugars on his tongue.
Yet he always orders the white syrup first. She tears her eyes away from the kuromitsu and gazes at the bottle in his left hand. The white is clear like glass, watery in appearance save for the telltale bubbles and viscous texture. She imagines it spilling over her, thick rivulets roaming down her body, coating her skin in its sticky residue.
There's no question.
"Both," She says, and he dips his head in assent.
"Very good," he extends a hand outward to the bed, and she disrobes and waits to be serviced.
It's an agonizing wait for him to prepare. She doesn't know how Kantaro can be so efficient with his sales and yet so slow in the bedroom. With deliberate motions, he pours the syrup into two separate glass bowls, taking painstaking care to ensure that he's poured exactly the same amounts.
She gets on her knees, in preparation what's to come.
When Kantaro approaches the edge of the bed. Dobashi smirks to herself. Despite Kantaro's seeming aloofness, there's no hiding the excitement embodied in his erection, the way it seems to point at her.
When she's at eye level with his member, she reaches out and curls a hand around his shaft. Kantaro stays perfectly still as she licks a stripe that goes from his base to head. It has a warm, salty taste with just a hint of sweet that encompasses Kantaro.
She can hear him sigh, though when she glances up his face betrays none of the pleasure she knows he must be feeling. He's a professional at hiding his emotions, a habit born of a controlling mother. But Dobashi knows just what buttons to push to break Kantaro's cool demeanor.
She presses her lips to him once more, flicking her tongue feverishly over his slit before letting herself roam down to his frenulum. Dobashi starts to take his whole length in her mouth, but he places a firm hand on her forehead and pushes her back.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" He's holding one of the glass bowls overhead, the one with crystal clear white syrup. He tilts it towards her, a heavenly offering from the sweets gods themselves.
She watches the syrup descend, its viscous liquid descending in what seems like slow motion. Kantaro drizzles it over his cock, sweeping up and down the shaft with smooth, patisserie-like control. She feels like she's watching the finishing touches being placed on her dessert. The anticipation is almost as sweet as the reward.
Kantaro tilts her chin up in a wordless request that she immediately comprehends. She parts her lips and he begins to pour the kuromitsu . Dobashi's tongue is raised up like a prayer to meet the liquid gold.
The thin stream that he's allowing her to have is taut like a honeyed string, and the moment the tip of her tongue touches it, he expertly snaps up his wrist and the string snaps away with it.
Gravity brings the rest of it down, and it pools in her mouth for a delicious moment before dissolving.
Dobashi makes a noise of protest and proceeds to curl her mouth into a pout, a face she knows Kantaro has trouble resisting.
"That's enough," He says, and she notes with satisfaction that his face is flush. So it seems she does have an effect on the aloof salary man after all.
He begins to drizzle the dark syrup over his erection now - and she conceals a smirk when she notices the haphazard jerkiness of his motions. Unlike the first coating of white syrup, the kuromitsu is being spread too unevenly, getting concentrated at the base of his shaft. But she bets that's done on purpose, a not-so-subtle indication of where he would like her to focus her time.
Kantaro moves his hand to the back of her head, fingers entwining her hair. Dobashi hardly needs the push though, and is already moving forward to claim the syrupy member.
He engulfs her mouth, and she's overwhelmed by the sweetness, by the aching contrast of cool, sweet syrup and warm, salty skin. Her tongue melts into him.
Dobashi imagines she must look absolutely depraved, suckling on Kantaro like she would an icy popsicle on a midsummer's day. If only his mother could see them now!
She lets him consume her even as she consumes him. Loses herself in the sinful sweetness. She inhales through her nose, closing her eyes and relaxing the back of her throat as he rolls his hips forward, his hand fists into the locks of her hair.
The syrups are slipping and sliding along her tongue in delicate harmony, dark and white mingling together. His hardened member fills her mouth, and she's reminded of the chocolate at Minimal , the stiff texture that mirrors Kantaro's stoic nature. And she thinks she'd like to see Kantaro melt, the way he makes her melt under him with nothing more than a palmful of syrup.
Her hands snake around his hips, and she delights in roaming the supple, thick muscles of his thighs. She palms each cheek, squeezes the flesh with eager hands. Kantaro lets out a deep, low groan when she does this, tightening the hold on her hair. Warmth pools at the bottom of her stomach, an aching longing that begs to be filled with Kantaro and only Kantaro. She squeezes her knees together, tries not to think of how badly she'd like to put her hand between her thighs and imitate what's happening to her mouth.
When she doesn't think she can stand it anymore, Dobashi slides off his cock with a slight, but audible pop and looks up. The sight makes her smile. Kantaro is panting heavily, his cheeks are flush and his glasses sitting askew on his nosebridge. He's wretched, she's delighted.
"D-Dobashi?" Kantaro's voice cracks, and it sends a thrill down her spine. "Are you alright?" The grip on the back of her head loosens, and a gentle hand strokes her cheek.
He thinks something's wrong, that he's hurt her in some way. She leans into his touch, then takes his hand and drags him onto the bed.
There's some shuffling and adjustment, and soon she has him right where she wants him. He leans against the headboard, propped up with pillows, with legs bent at the knees uncertainly. He still seems hesitant, but she plants a sugary kiss on his lips and that seems to calm him down.
His erection points towards the ceiling like it’s praying to the heavens. It's still glistening from the syrup, a gorgeous shining sakura pink under fluorescent lights. She thinks it could be dessert all on its own, and Dobashi wonders if Kantaro would ever consider commissioning an erotic cake for her birthday.
Dobashi takes him in her mouth again, and this time it's even better because she's got a perfect view of his wretchedness.
She takes her time, slowly moving down inch by aching inch, savoring every second.
Dobashi fills her head with Kantaro.
She lets him consume her even as she consumes him. Loses herself in the sinful sweetness, the heady musk of his scent.
The sweetest savarin in the world could never hold a candle to Kantaro, her Kantaro.
He's leaning back into the headboard, his breath is ragged, his eyes beginning to glaze over the same way he gets when he takes his first bite of sweets. Her heart flutters at the sight.
His thrusts are becoming more erratic, more desperate. When she meets his gaze his lips part and he gives a low, breathy moan.
"D-Dobashi," She loves the way his face contorts in pleasure, how his brows knit above his eyes, the wanton look in his chocolate-brown eyes as he chokes on her name on his way up to heaven. " Daisuki . I love you."
His release hits her like a tidal wave. He tilts his head back and rolls his eyes up to heaven. His hands grip her like a vice, keeping her pressed to the hilt of his now quivering member.
The cum hits the back of her throat, thick and warm. She hums, sending vibrations down his cock and encouraging even more to flow out.
Kantaro gives a groan and drops his hands. When she slides off of him for the last time, her hand coaxes one last spurt of cum that weeps from his slit. It looks like cloudy white syrup. She laps up the remaining cum, reveling in the way the taste of Kantaro has now overpowered the sweet residue.
Kantaro is gulping the air like a drowned man. When he finally catches his breath, he asks nervously, "What...what about you, Dobashi-san?"
She doesn't reply right away, but smiles enigmatically in a way that keeps his gaze steady on her. She leans on his heaving chest, her fingers grazing down his arm and tracing the lines of his palm.
Dobashi pulls his hand between her legs, guides Kantaro to her moist valley and lets his skillful, slender fingers slip inside.
The answer to that...only sweet heaven knows.