CATERING

Catering

By Jessica Freely

"Pineapple milkshakes, iced tea deeped with honeycomb, mocha chipotle coolers. Man, this is the trippiest party I've ever heard of," said Stan. His long blond hair was tied back from his face with a black ribbon and the caterer's uniform -- black tux and bow tie -- made him look like a lanky penguin, completely out of his element in the kitchen of this wealthy suburban home. "And I've been to some doozies, let me tell you." He grinned and elbowed Gus in the gut, nearly making Gus drop his tray. "Hey, remember that time that Billy Pips scored that tank of nitrous from the dentist with the toe fetish?"

"Steeped," said Gus, equally uncomfortable in his own monkey suit but this was the first job they'd had in like a month and Mrs. Gibson was going to kick them out of their apartment if they didn’t come across with some rent soon.

"What?"

"It's iced tea steeped with honeycomb, not deeped. And keep your voice down. The guests will hear you."

Stan made a face. "Look at you, all Mr. Jeeves and shit." He arched his eyebrows and trotted around the kitchen with one hand raised and his ass sticking out. "May I freshen your chipotle bong water margarita, Madam? Give me a break. I know what you want to do with that honeycomb."

Gus couldn't bite back a guilty grin. Stan knew him all too well. "Just shut up and don't get us fired. We get paid, get back home, I'll show you exactly what I want to do with it. And the pineapple too."

"Oooh." Stan's eyelids drooped and he leaned in close, teasing Gus's neatly trimmed beard with his long, Roman nose. "I ever tell you I've got a thing for bears in tuxedos?"

Gus chuckled. Stan had a big mouth and an even bigger heart. The two of them had been inseparable since high school, when Gus had stepped in and stopped some guys from beating the crap out of Stan for mouthing off at them. Gus got his hand cut in the fight and Stan had taken him home, sat him down in the kitchen and bandaged his hand. And wept while he did it. For as long as he lived, Gus would never forget the feel of that first hot tear on his hand. Or the fearful look on Stan's face as he looked up at him, the bruising on his eye already beginning to stand out as he awaited retribution. And Gus, for once not caring about consequences, lifting Stan up by the shoulders and kissing him.

A week after that, Gus's dad found his gay porno magazines and kicked him out of the house. Stan found him wandering around by the railroad tracks and brought him home to live with him and his mom. Until she found them together and kicked them both out and they'd been on their own ever since, doing whatever they had to do to survive.

Like this catering gig. Gus stepped back. "Just behave yourself for a couple of hours, please. My sister got us this job and if you blow it, she'll be in trouble too."

"Your sister thinks she can become a suburban rich bitch by assmosis. It ain't never going to happen. She's a Taylor tramp and she always will be."

"She's just trying to make a better life for herself and her kids."

"Breeder."

"What's that got to do with it? She's helping us out too, isn't she? She's the one family member between us that will actually speak to us. Don't shit on that."

Stan went still. His cheeks were bright red. "I'm sorry."

Stan went too far all the time, but when Gus checked him, he was sorry, and Gus forgave him. All Gus wanted to do now was grab Stan and plunder his mouth, tear off his clothes and--

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" Mrs. Anderson, the client, stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Every strand of her silver blond hair was perfectly arranged and her teal blue cowl neck jacket and cream blouse and slacks were immaculate. Everything about her was confident, effortless. It was like she came from a different planet.

"Mrs. Anderson, we were just--" Gus began, then stopped short. Just arguing and inching toward foreplay was not going to cut it as an excuse. "I have more drinks for your guests."

"Good." She nodded and looked from Stan to Gus and back to Stan again with such calm and thorough appraisal that Gus felt like she'd walked in on them naked and fucking on the brushed stainless steel kitchen island. And the thought of that made him hot and he had to think of his sister's angry face to keep from popping a boner right in front of this rich broad. She pointed to the refrigerator and said to Stan, "And I think you can bring out the cucumber and shrimp crumpet bites. My Library Fund ladies will be getting peckish by now."

Gus held his breath, awaiting Stan's reply, but all he said was, "Yes ma'am."

She left, and Gus picked up his tray to follow her out. Stan, tray balanced on one hand, squeezed Gus's left ass cheek with the other. "Crumpet bites? Now you know I love you. Not a word."

They progressed from crumpet bites to mushroom flan to duck and wild-rice parfaits and finally, pomegranate tiramisu. And Stan was silent.

"You boys did a good job," said Mrs. Anderson as they dried the last of the dishes. "And the food was excellent. My compliments to your sister. I'll keep her card and recommend her to my friends."

"Thank you, Mrs. Anderson," said Gus.

"It was our pleasure, ma'am," said Stan.

Gus looked at Stan out of the corner of his eye. What was he up to?

"Here you go," said Mrs. Anderson, handing them each an envelope. "And feel free to take any leftovers home. There's always so much food left over after a party. I don't dare eat it all myself."

"It's hard to imagine you need to worry about that, Mrs. Anderson," said Stan.

She gave Stan a look that plainly stated, I know you're bullshitting me but I'm enjoying it. And then, she looked to Gus. "How do you put up with him?"

Gus blinked. "What?"

But Stan was already packing leftovers into a shopping bag. Mrs. Anderson opened the kitchen door and showed them out. "Good night boys," she said. "And I'll call you in a couple of days, Stan."

What the fuck? But then Gus got a peek at the leftovers and he soon had other things on his mind. It was all he could do to wait until they got back to their apartment to start peeling that monkey suit off of Stan.

"Was I a good boy today, Gus?" Stan was already breathing hard, his shirt open and his pants undone, his hair unbound and sticking to his face in golden wisps.

"Very good," said Gus, pulling Stan's pants off and pushing him back down onto the bed. He climbed up, straddling Stan's hips and he dipped his head, tasting Stan's sweet, full, overactive lips. "Mmmm. Tasty too."

"Yeah?" Stan's eyes glittered as he stared up at Gus. "As good as the pineapple milkshakes?"

Gus threw his jacket to the floor and undid his shirt while Stan unfastened his fly. He was already hard. Achingly hard and had been since they'd gotten to the car. He let Stan pull his pants down, and his thick, shortish cock bounced free. He got off the bed and stepped out of his pants and went and got those leftovers.

"Now this…" he said, holding up the Tupperware container holding the honeycomb. "What will we do with this?"

"Please, Gus. You know… you know what you want to do with that. Do it, Gus. I've been dying for you to all day. Please."

Gus gave Stan an evil grin. "Get your clothes off the bed first, we're not fucking up these uniforms."

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that Gus?" But Stan did as he was told, and quickly.

Both naked now, Gus opened the Tupperware and took out the honeycomb. He'd never seen one before today. It was petty cool, all the little wax compartments, drenched and oozing with honey. He drizzled some on Stan's chest, and then bent down to lick it off.

"Is that all you can think of?"

Gus laughed. "I'm just getting started."

Stan was hard by now, his long, curving cock weeping a drop of precome. Gus dripped honey on that rosy, straining shaft, and he licked that off too. Stan whimpered.

"Now roll over."

Stan got on his hands and knees, poking his ass up hopefully. "Please, Gus. Do it."

Gus licked a bit of the comb, relishing the sweet taste and then he spread Stan's cheeks and pressed the comb up against his asshole. Stan let out a breath gasp, and arched his back. "Yes. Yesss. Fuck me with it, Gus. Fuck me with the honeycomb! I’m a bumblebee!"

Grinning, Gus crushed the comb against Stan's ass. Honey poured over his fingers as the wax chambers crumpled. Stan let out a high-pitched wail and then Gus could no longer hold back. He mashed his face into the comb, pressing it harder into Stan's body, crushing the comb with his face as his tongue swam through a tidal surge of honey and wax to find at last the molten core of Stan's ass. It was going to take him forever to get his beard clean.

He licked Stan until Stan was once again rendered speechless, and then, he poured the rest of the honey from the Tupperware down Stan's ass crack and he fucked him. The tight, sticky heat surrounding his cock drove him wild.

"Oh God, Gus. I thought this day would never end. A million times I thought of something great to say but I didn't. I held back, Gus. For you. I held back for you."

"I know you did, honey," Gus panted. And he reached around and stroked Stan with thick, sticky fingers. "I know you did and I’m proud of you but you don't have to hold back any more."

"Oh, god, you're so big, so hot inside me, Gus. I can feel you everywhere and... Oh… anything… anything… I'd do anything for you… Ah! Y-y-you know that… r-r-right?"

"Yeah." Gus could barely manage that one syllable. His whole world was down to Stan's honey-slick hole and his raging, needy cock that had a mind of its own and all it wanted to do was plunge into that sweet heat over and over and over again. His balls tightened and his stomach clenched. "Stan!"

"I'm gonna come, Gus!"

Stan's whole body rippled in orgasm, and his come poured out over Gus's hand. The aftershocks of Stan's body rippled around Gus's cock and he came, plunging deep into Stan.

They lay side by side, sticky, sweaty, covered with honey and semen. Gus licked his fingers. "Mmm."

"Good?"

"Yeah, if you like salty and sweet. Here."

He put his hand out and Stan licked it. "Oh yeah." He licked Gus's hand clean. "So I guess this job wasn't so bad after all," he said.

"See? I told you. It's totally worth it too. We can keep living here now, at least for another couple of weeks."

"Mrs. Anderson wasn't bad."

"No. In fact she was kind of nice," said Gus.

"So… you wouldn't mind working for her again?"

Gus leaned back and looked at Stan, who looked back at him with a slightly hopeful, slightly fearful expression that Gus knew all too well. "What did you do?"

Stan shrugged. "Well. While you were serving the duck parfaits, she and I happened to be in the kitchen alone together and I happened to mention how I couldn't wait to get you back home so we could fuck and--"

"You what???"

"Just making conversation. Don't interrupt me, I’m getting to the good part. Anyway, so she happened to mention that she and some of her Library Fund friends enjoy watching two hot men get it on, and I asked her if she thought that she and her friends might find you and I suitable for such entertainment and she said that yeah, she picked up on a hot vibe between us earlier and thought we'd be great."

Gus stared at Stan, dumbstruck.

"We both agreed you'd be embarrassed to discuss it with her and would need some time to think about it so I told her I'd talk to you and get back to her if you were willing to go along with it."

Gus blinked.

"So what do you think? She's nice, and her friends are nice and they're just going to watch and they will pay us… oh man Gus. They will pay us a ton of money."

I'd do anything for you… Y-y-you know that… r-r-right?

"Jesus, Stan. We're whores now?"

"Come on," Stan ran a hand down his cheek and picked a piece of wax out of his beard. His blue eyes went wise and sad. "You know it's not the first time." Then he brightened. "And this time, we'd be high-priced whores."

Gus took a deep breath and let it out. "And we'd still be fucking each other."

Stan grinned. "Nice work if you can get it."

Gus swallowed. "But I don't know if I can, with people watching. With women watching…"

"Want to know how much she's offering?" He leaned forward and whispered a number in Gus's ear.

Gus gasped and grabbed Stan by the shoulders.

"Yeah, I thought that might keep your cock hard."

xxx

Prompts used to write this story:
Pineapple
Assmosis
Honeycomb
Whimper