JUST A TASTER
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Pairing: E. Aster Bunnymund/Jack Frost
Genre: romance, humour
Rating: light R
Disclaimer: Belongs to DreamWorks and William Joyce. Damn, if I owned this, JackRabbit would be canon.
Warning: interspecies romance.
Summary: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
A/n: Written for the RotG kink meme. Prompt was Any/Jack Frost, finger licking. Veered a little, I'll admit.
Also, people, I read Any/Jack Frost as Bunnymund/Jack Frost. One track mind.
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All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
"C'mooooon, Bunny!"
Bunnymund's ears twitch in irritation, but he doesn't turn around. Jack huffs, drumming his fingers on the table in annoyance. This isn't working. In fact, nothing is. He's tried pretty much every trick up his sleeve to get Bunnymund to pay attention to him, even if just for a quick make-out session, but no!, the rabbit's more stubborn than a goat. He's still there, slaving away over new chocolate flavours, tasting and taking notes in a rough paper notebook that's seen enough chocolate to set up its own factory.
"Pleeeaaase?" Jack begs, slumping over the table. "I'm a hormonal teenager, I need to be taken care of – please read all the innuendo possible into that statement – or else I might become a danger to society!"
"You're a danger to society already," Bunnymund grumbles, adding what smells like a few drops of peppermint essence to his latest concoction. "Keeping you waiting can't make it any worse."
Jack mutters something along the lines of 'insensitive', 'cruel' and 'worst boyfriend ever', but it's nothing Bunnymund hasn't heard before. He knows Jack well enough to simply shake his head and smile to himself. Sulky bugger never means it.
Jack continues to sprawl over Bunnymund's kitchen table, huffing and sighing and generally being a mannerless, annoying wretch, until Bunnymund's groans in exasperation.
"Get your arse over and try it, if it'll shut you up for five minutes!" he snaps, pointing his wooden spoon first at Jack then at the pot irritably. Jack gets up with all the enthusiasm of a sloth towards vigorous exercise and saunters over, shoulders hunched moodily. He peers into the pot and takes a long sniff, which perks him up a bit. The novelty of dating a master chocolatier may have worn off pretty soon (colossal stomach aches after crème egg binges will do that to a guy), but sometimes Bunnymund's creations just need to be tasted.
Taking full advantage of his frost powers and the impossibility to be harmed by heat, he dips his finger into the warm, thick melted chocolate and…
And he has an Idea. Oh, this will get Bunny out of his stubborn funk for sure.
Slowly and with Great Intent, he puts his finger to his mouth and licks the chocolate off, from base to tip. He sticks it in his mouth and sucks with a satisfied hum, half to get Bunnymund riled and half because damn, it really is good. The peppermint adds a light, fresh tone to the deep, creamy richness, and seconds are definitely in order, not only for himself.
That was just the warm-up band.
This time he dips two fingers, coating them thoroughly in chocolate pepperminty goodness, and makes an even bigger show of it than before. He slowly drags his tongue up his index finger, swirling it around the tip obscenely before sucking it into his mouth with a long sigh. He does the same with his middle finger, this time sucking at his knuckles, bites at them before flicking his tongue where his fingers join, all accompanied by a needy moan, his eyes closed in ecstasy that's only part fake. He sucks both his fingers into his mouth, licking the tips hungrily and nipping lightly. One last suck of his index finger before it leaves his mouth with a pop, and he hums again, licking his lips.
If this doesn't work, he's out of ideas.
There's a very heavy silence when Jack finishes his little show. It drags on for just enough to make Jack nervous, and he opens his eyes. He's needn't have worried.
Bunnymund's nose is twitching, breath coming fast, and his ears are back. His head's lowered slightly, clear sign he's about to pounce, chest rising and falling too quick to be normal, but the most tell-tale clue is his eyes. They're a shade darker, hot with longing, and staring right into Jack likes he's a feast and the Pooka's starving.
Jack grins cockily. Mission accomplished.
He accepts the hungry kiss more than willingly, laughing into it as Bunnymund's paws slide under his hoodie. He'll file this tactic away under 'Certain Victory'. In the meantime, as he's easily placed on the table, there are more important things at hand. He clings to Bunnymund's fur, humming happily.
Oh, yes, much more important things indeed.