It's always a pleasure watching Gaston eat.
Seeing Gaston's lips close around his fingers as the cake disappears inside his mouth, piece after piece, as Gaston hums with pleasure at the flavors. Each little sound making LeFou's heart jump. Eyes shut with glee as he licks his own fingers clean from the frosting that LeFou made himself just for him, just for this exact moment.
Better than that only when he's allowed to feed Gaston himself.
Whenever Gaston decides he's been good enough, that he deserves it, he gives LeFou the order. And he always obeys it promptly, with no hesitation. All pride thrown aside just to watch Gaston lose himself to the simplest pleasure of being hand-fed dessert, and act supposedly romantic and innocent and yet this is anything but. LeFou can barely contain himself in his now too tight trousers.
There's nothing pure about this - no, it's sinful, certainly some kind of torture. It's mouthwatering.
Delicious.
And he can't have enough.
"What are you waiting for? Feed me, LeFou."
So he does.
Again and again LeFou picks up slices of the cake he remembers waking up early to prepare - going town to get only the fresher of products, making sure everything is perfect and at Gaston's tastes - and taking them carefully to the man's mouth, watching as Gaston eats it happily from his hand. Nothing more satisfying than knowing he's the cause of such pleasure as he sits on Gaston's lap handfeeding him. He can feel Gaston's hardening length under him with every bite until he seemingly is done with it and pulls LeFou into a breathtakingly filthy kiss.
LeFou can taste the dessert on his tongue, but more importantly than that, he can taste Gaston on it.
Sweeter than any apple pie.
He's addicted he knows. Impossible not to be, really, Gaston's taste is too good for otherwise, making his mind go numb and hazy with only a kiss. Wanting more, needing more. More of Gaston, more of the sickening and enslaving feeling he gives him.
They're moving now, together, as Gaston kisses him deeply and entirely. His hands on LeFou setting the pace as trousers be damned they thrust against each other. Words of reassurance and desire on his ear as he feels Gaston's cock rubbing against his ass and with just that he's gone. He begs and cries as he comes, seeing white for a second and making a mess of his underwear.
Gaston follows right after, and LeFou is sure the man's grip on his hips will leave markings.
He's shaking as they sit in silence, Gaston holding him in place as pleasure still shocks them through their body, whispering his thankfulness and how good LeFou was to him, how loved he made him feel. That he's the best.
LeFou loves this part. The switch, going from server to lover. From worshipper to worshipped.
They share the last piece of cake, and LeFou knows the other is full. The bites between their kisses are slow and deliberate, he's sharing more than eating and leaving trails of frosting on LeFou's neck and collarbone. It's delicate at first, lovingly, making LeFou feel safe and desired, before they turn hungry and ravening again.
Perfect.
"Was there any frosting left?"
And it only gets better as Gaston takes him apart on top of the table soon after, making a mess of his body with the frosting LeFou specifically set apart for this and kissing every single part of his body only to lick it clean after with a predatory smile on his face.
Truly, watching Gaston eat is always fascinating.
But nothing beats what comes after.