Allow me to introduce a sort-of series I've been working on. I wanted to write a little something about each of the Four Kings and Komatsu, with a bit of a twist. Each story will have them using their special skills on Komatsu in suitably naughty ways! I'll be posting these in the order that the characters appear in the manga, since that seemed like the only fair way to do it. I promise that I will keep at it until I can get to Zebra in the end!

These will all probably include implied sex, but I don't think anything too explicit will come yet.

So many thanks to Rice Kracker for being so patient with me while I tried to write this, and encouraging my little brain tangents. I sincerely hope everyone will enjoy this and get to read their favorite king/Komatsu pair, with lots of extra love.

It was becoming an increasingly familiar routine, having the entire top-floor restaurant completely booked for one particularly special guest. For Komatsu the evening would climax when he left the familiar order and bustle of his kitchen, armed with enough desserts and drinks to leave a full house stuffed and tipsy, and joined his beloved partner for the final course.

Toriko would regale him with fantastic stories, particularly about any special ingredients he had captured and brought back to the Hotel Gourmet. It often made Komatsu long to be out in the field alongside Toriko all the time, in spite of the dangers and his own duties. Then Toriko would make a game out of unerringly guessing which dishes had been prepared by the little chef's own hands, which always resulted in Komatsu's heart racing in surprised happiness.

Cooking for Toriko never seemed to stop making him happy. Komatsu felt as if the whole kitchen was echoing with joy on those nights. Maybe it was because his staff was now used to Toriko, making good-natured jokes about the bishokuya's incredible appetite and admiring the rare ingredients that always appeared along with him. Maybe it was just a private happiness humming in Komatsu's nerves. All he knew was that it left him feeling all wound up inside, with a strength he couldn't account for and an excitement he couldn't define.

And when he finally emerged from the kitchen and saw Toriko's blissful face. . . that was what it took for his excited tension to dissolve into warm satisfaction. Komatsu couldn't have explained it aloud, but it was a completeness he had rarely felt before meeting Toriko.

It wasn't as if he didn't have other victories in his life. The restaurant was enjoying unqualified success. (Even that was due at least in part to Toriko, both for the rare ingredients he allowed them to sporadically add to the menu, and because apparently having the entire restaurant occasionally unavailable because of a famous guest leant a certain hint of the desirable to their image.) People had even stopped bothering to remind him that he was the youngest head chef the Hotel Gourmet had ever appointed, finally accepting he had earned his position. He even had a level-headed and trustworthy (and mulishly stubborn, though at least he didn't complain about Komatsu's absences so long as something came of them) sous chef who could be left in charge for weeks on end, doling out their stock of Century Soup with an iron fist so it wouldn't run out.

The spike in popularity that Hotel Gourmet had enjoyed was wonderful, exciting, but also starting to wear everyone out. They'd hired new chefs to keep up with the rush, but that would only really be helpful when they'd been trained a little more thoroughly in the hotel's specialties, and Komatsu had too much pride not to take everything on his own narrow shoulders until then.

At the moment the deep satisfaction he felt from Toriko's smile almost made him go limp in his seat. Someday he would try to express it to Toriko, the joy that washed over him when he saw the food he had prepared with his own hands being enjoyed, but for now he only had the energy left to bask in that feeling.

"You're not going to have some?" Toriko asked, suddenly breaking through Komatsu's tired musings.

Komatsu looked around, he hadn't even been aware of spacing out with his thoughts, and realized Toriko was indicating the pasty chef's specialty, the 'tower of tarts' that they usually didn't serve to parties of fewer than twenty guests because there would be so much left over. The entire thing was a feat of timing more than anything else, making sure every single sweet or fruity mouthful would be at the peak of perfection when served.

Toriko had already devoured about half of the tower before he'd even stopped to ask.

"I couldn't! You're the guest, Toriko-san, I'm just keeping you company." No matter how familiar they became, Komatsu still couldn't suppress that instinct to look after his guest, and especially his partner, before himself.

"You should keep me company by enjoying this too," Toriko insisted.

He didn't give Komatsu a chance to protest again, but selected a white apple tart and held it out for Komatsu to take. When Komatsu hesitated a moment too long in reaching out to take it he felt Toriko's other hand on his chin, prompting him to open his mouth.

Toriko had been popping the tarts in his mouth like bite-sized morsels, but it took Komatsu three bites to get through one. They were big bites, too. The feeling of Toriko's fingers brushing his chin, his throat, his lips, made him so nervous he wanted to finish quickly. The moment he did finish Komatsu found himself licking sweet syrup and flaky crust from his lips, paradoxically wishing Toriko's hand was still touching his face.

The white apple tart was one of his pasty chef's most successful creations. The blended sweetness and tartness of the apples, deepened with spices and cradled in a light crust, had certainly never drawn a single complaint. There was a rumor around the kitchen that her husband had proposed to her immediately after first tasting her white apple tarts. (It was probably true. Her husband ran a modest gourmet orchard that supplied many of the cultivated fruits used by the Hotel Gourmet, and it was no secret he fawned over her cooking.)

Komatsu murmured something to this effect, temporarily mesmerized by Toriko licking crumbs and sticky-sweet syrup from the tart off of his fingers.

"Oh?" Toriko grinned at the idea of it. "It's no surprise someone would fall in love with a skilled chef like that."

Komatsu felt himself blush and had to turn away quickly, trying not to let Toriko see. Why was he getting so embarrassed? It wasn't like it was his personal cooking being complimented.

Toriko plied him with more pastries and a 'shot' of bourbon that was more like a full bottle to a normal person, and much stronger than Komatsu normally would have tried. He sipped at it anyway, hoping to gain an excuse for his flushed cheeks.

The liquor didn't help as Komatsu's exhaustion slowly caught up with him. He rested his arms and then his head on the table once again, content for the moment to watch Toriko's gluttonous appitite make short work of the rest of the varried dessert course.

Komatsu didn't even realize he was lost in a daze until he felt Toriko's hand on his face once again. He blinked his eyes open and found Toriko's warm, fond gaze on him. Toriko's thumb was stroking his cheek, and somehow the table had been cleared and the dining room entirely cleaned up. How could he have missed that amount of activity?

"Did cooking for me tire you out?"

"Of course not!" Komatsu blurted out, "Because I love cooking for you! I want to see you enjoy everything I can give you, more than anything!"

He couldn't believe he had said it so suddenly. Toriko's hand was touching his face the same way as when he had been fed the tart, thumb pressing against his chin and lower lip as if to pry his mouth open.

"There's something else I want to enjoy, if you're willing to give it to me."

Komatsu didin't know what to think of those words. He had some ideas, but they were utter madness, surely.

"What is it? Is there something you wanted to try? Of course I'll do everything I can to prepare it for you!"

"Actually, I think the most delicious thing in this room is already prepared." Toriko's hand left his cheek, and Komatsu felt himself suddenly hemmed in by Toriko's arms, one around his back, the other snaking down to grip under his knees as Toriko suddenly knelt in front of him, making it impossible to rise out of his chair. "I just want your permission to feast."

"Toriko-san?" Komatsu found he didn't need to ask, not with the hungry way Toriko was eyeing him. If he gave the word, he would be the one devoured. "I just said I want to see you to enjoy everything I can give you, didn't I?" he whispered.

That was all that needed to be said. Komatsu found himself lifted in Toriko's arms as if he weighed nothing at all, then laid out on the empty table, reverently, like a sumptuous morsel. He squirmed a little, uncomfortable in the unaccustomed position of being laid out like he was on a serving dish, then froze at the unanticipated sight looming over him.

Toriko seemed to tower over him, his solid bulk casting a shadow over Komatsu's small body. His hands were set in a ready position that Komatsu recognized immediately, the fork and knife.

Komatsu tried to squirm backwards, out from under Toriko's shadow. He had never thought Toriko meant to literally devour him!

Before he could escape Toriko had modified his 'knife' hand down to one outstreched finger, more like a scalpel. He made a single careful flick in the air down the line of Komatsu's body, accompanied by Komatsu's startled squeal. For an instant Komatsu thought that the cutting pressure wave of Toriko's flying knife had somehow missed him.

In the next moment he felt a cool breeze across his chest and his uniform fell away, sliced neatly open by Toriko's delicately aimed knife.

The fork was applied wihtout mercy, sweeping both halves of his shirt open and pinning them to the table, leaving him trapped and exposed. It wasn't the cool air on his bare skin that was making him shiver, though. Excitement was leaving him to pant helplessly, breathless with anticipation.

"Itadakimasu," Toriko purred, licking his lips as if he had something delecious laid out in front of him.

Komatsu caught his breath and then immediately lost it again in a loud moan as Toriko bent down and started to lick him. Toriko's hot, wet tongue started at his navel and traveled all the way up to his collarbone. The trail finally ended with Toriko sucking hungrily at his neck while Komatsu whimpered and tried to arch up into the touch, still pinned to the table.

"Toriko-san!" Komatsu tried to press kisses to Toriko's cheek, the only place he could reach. Toriko was applying teeth to his shoulder and neck, so gently that the play bites didn't even make him nervous.

Toriko slid out of range of his kisses as Komatsu whimpered for more. Lips and tongue made thorough work of tasting every inch of Komatsu's exposed chest, moving steadily down, back to his navel, and then. . .

"To. . ri. . . ko. . . sa. . ." Komatsu could only gasp. The tension he had felt while cooking for Toriko was back, coiling so tightly in his stomach he could barely breathe. He knew it couldn't be released until he was sure Toriko had enjoyed every morsel laid out for him with loving care.

Firm hands on his thighs held him trapped, or he might have wrapped his legs around Toriko's neck. Toriko's face was hovering over the tent forming in his pants, driving Komatsu mad with the heat of those open-mouthed breaths. Komatsu could only manage non-verbal demands now, willing Toriko to understand that he needed to be devoured.

Toriko moved back up his body, ignoring Komatsu's cry of frustration. In a moment they were nose-to-nose, Komatsu glaring for all he was worth in an attempt to chastize Toriko for teasing him.

Then Toriko's mouth descended on his, and Komatsu forgot about being angry. A kiss from Toriko, hot and sure and demanding. He had wanted a kiss like this for so long, dreamed of how that eager mouth would feel against his. . . .

Something felt off. Toriko was kissing him, finally kissing him, heady enough so that it took Komatsu half a second to even realize what was missing.

No taste. Komatsu opened his mouth, desperately seeking more, letting Toriko's muscular snake of a tongue slither inside to torment him. There was no hint of the sweet dessert and bitter liquor they had shared, no taste he could define as belonging to Toriko alone, nothing.

The world was fuzzy around the edges when Toriko drew back from him. Komatsu clenched his hands until his nails dug into his palms, but there was no pain, only the uncomfortable tightness of arousal in his pants and the wretched tightness in his chest that would go unreleased. Komatsu squeezed his eyes closed in disappointment.

When he opened his eyes again the dream was gone. The world was still a little fuzzy to his sleepy eyes until Komatsu was able to raise a hand to rub angrily at them. It wasn't the first time he'd tormented himself with that dream, and he didn't dare hope it would be the last.

Then Komatsu took stock of his surroundings, and finally realized that he was being supported in Toriko's arms.

Toriko was holding him the same way Komatsu had felt arms around him in the dream, one arm around his back and the other under his knees. Komatsu had a moment of panic as he looked down at himself, but he was still clothed, and though his dream had left him aroused enough to be in torment, at least his condition wasn't immediately visible.

"Hey!" Toriko greeted him brightly, which made Komatsu want to squirm in shame. "You were so worn out you fell asleep right there in the restaurant, so I thought I'd take you home to rest."

"You don't have to go out of your way, Toriko-san!" Komatsu protested.

"It's fine. Well, I did get a little turned around at first, but I think this is the way to your building, right?"

"R-right. I can walk from here, Toriko-san. I'm fine, really. I shouldn't have been so rude as to fall asleep-"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

Komatsu was still trying to make himself breathe normally. Being held against Toriko's chest was not exactly helping the aftereffects of his dream go away. "Oh. . . okay?"

"You were making some weird noises in your sleep," Toriko started, his voice deep and serious, and Komatsu felt as if his whole body had gone hot, then cold, and then hotter than ever in the endless instant before Toriko continued. "Were you having nightmares about monsters? Or about going out in the wild with me? I thought you were at least feeling less terrified about it than before."

"It's nothing like that! It was just some silly dream. I've forgotten it already, actually!" Komatsu lied. The words tasted like ash on his tongue, because how could he ever forget something like Toriko's tongue tasting every part of him? Or Toriko cutting off his clothes with a deadly attack turned to perfect precision? Or especially Toriko almost, almost swallowing him whole. . . .

Toriko bent closer over him, frowning with concern and making Komatsu feel even more guilty for his perverted thoughts. "I'm asking because it sounded like you were crying out for me to save you."

Before Komatsu could work out some excuse Toriko took a breath to continue, paused, then pressed his face into Komatsu's chest, prompting a startled yelp, and breathed in again in one deep sniff.

When Toriko raised his head his cheeks were flushed with an embarrassment to match Komatsu's. He didn't question Komatsu further, but stretched his legs as he hurried towards Komatsu's apartment building.

Was it possible for Toriko to smell the arousal on him? Komatsu didn't even need to ask after seeing Toriko's expression. He could only cling to Toriko, hiding his own face. In the uncomfortable silence that settled between them he could hear Toriko breathing hard through his nose, breathing in whatever smell had tipped him off over and over again with deeper and deeper breaths.

After a minute with no sound between them but those greedy sniffs, Toriko swallowed audibly once, then again. It took Komatsu a second to realize it, but it was almost how Toriko reacted when presented with such a amazing dish that even he had to hold back and try to savor it. Toriko would always gorge himself on the smell first, having to gulp down drool in his anticipation.

As Toriko continued to breathe hard against him, clasping him close, Komatsu had a familiar, yet strange, intuition. Like an ingredient that put up a stubborn and difficult shell, but underneath had a feeling as if it was waiting for a pair of hands that would prepare it with the utmost care, he felt Toriko wanted. . . no, needed the correct touch to bring out his secrets, but couldn't ask for it.

Toriko was practically leaping up the stairs in Komatsu's apartment building by the time Komatsu dared to drape one arm over Toriko's shoulder to pull himself up. He stayed there, safe in Toriko's arms even when he felt Toriko finally stop outside of his door.

"Should I tell you what dream I had, Toriko-san?" He managed to ask. Toriko was still holding him as if he never meant to let go. Komatsu couldn't have retreated into his apartment if he wanted to.

"Was it a bad dream?"

"No, not at all! How could it be bad when it was about you?"

Toriko met his eyes at that, and the embarrassment and misunderstandings seemed to melt away in that moment, until there was nothing left between them but a few centimeters of empty air.

"I should explain. I feel like my work is never complete at all until you're enjoying it, until it's finally inside your mouth," Komatsu babbled, suddenly feeling more naked than if Toriko had completely shredded his clothes. "And I dreamed you used your mouth to. . . to kiss me."

It made sense in his head, the connection between cooking and love. He was so sure Toriko would have to understand. If not, Komatsu didn't know how he could fully explain himself.

When Toriko grinned at him there was no question that he did understand. The satisfaction of a dish that brought the diner to bliss, the heady feeling of sincere love, they blended together like a perfect balance of spice and herbs in a rich sauce, bringing happiness to the dish called life.

Komatsu wrapped both arms around Toriko's powerful neck and hung there, helplessly happy just from that simple understanding. He nuzzled his face into Toriko's jaw, and he couldn't have said later who initiated the kiss, just that in the next moment Toriko's mouth was on his. Toriko's kiss was as firm and insistent as he ever could have dreamed, and with the tastes his sleeping mind could never perfectly duplicate, growing deeper and richer as Toriko's mouth opened against his, tongue darting in to taste Komatsu in return.

They couldn't do this here in the hallway, where anyone could walk by. Komatsu braced one hand on Toriko's chin to push him away. The little whine of disappointment he made pricked at Komatsu's heart for an instant, but then Toriko had greedily sucked Komatsu's fingers into his mouth instead.

Komatsu could only laugh, digging out his keys one-handed while Toriko tasted his fingers. He let both of them into his apartment before retrieving his hand from Toriko's mouth and giving the eager bishokuya another kiss. His keys dropped to the floor, the door fell shut behind them, and Komatsu didn't care anymore.

When Toriko broke away it was to sniff him again, working his way down Komatsu's body like a bloodhound on the scent while Komatsu clung to him, hands clutching at Toriko's messy hair. Cradled high in Toriko's arms, he could only moan and shiver with anticipation when Toriko's face burrowed between his legs. Not just picking up his scent now, he could swear Toriko was licking him, trying to taste him through his clothes.

The noises he was making prompted Toriko's head to lift again. For all that he wouldn't even let Komatsu down out of his arms, there was uncertainty warring with the desire in his eyes. It reminded Komatsu of the half-started and quickly dropped conversations just before Toriko had asked him to form a combo. Komatsu found he couldn't even fluster about with embarrassment when Toriko so obviously needed him.

Love was enough like cooking for him to understand. Touches slow and firm enough to coax without startling, endless kisses for them to sample each other, encouragement to unlock those delicious secrets. . . .

Komatsu whispered promises low and private against the nape of Toriko's neck, as Toriko bent to lap delicately at his exposed navel. "You can taste everything you want."

And then, Komatsu was determined, he was going to taste every part of Toriko in return.