For 15minuteficlets.The word is: gourmet
Disclaimer: Not mine, nobody would pay for this.
Everything is set neatly; the crisp linen tucked in and spread like a tablecloth across a great expanse of bed. The cushions sit like square platters awaiting their dish. Deacon is also eagerly anticipating the meal that is to come, but his face remains neutral. He is the perfect gentleman. His utensils are set out methodically on the table beside the bed, gleaming silver in the light. He would not dirty his hands tonight. Tonight, he would be the perfect gentleman, so Deacon clasps his hands and waits.
The door is opened hesitantly, and in walks Scud, nude and decidely uncomfortable about his situation. "Hey Dea-"
"Shut up!" Deacon snaps, and Scud's mouth closes on his protests. Good. Scud clambers onto the bed awkwardly, wrinkling the linen and throwing the cushions into disorder. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead shuts up when he sees Deacon. He lies down on the bed. Better.
Deacon picks up a knife between his thumb and forefinger and thinks, Why eat out when you can dine gourmet at home?
The blood dribbles down and soaks into the white cloth. Deacon likes his steak rare. (25 min)