A/N: I saw the vision and had to make the blurb.
WARNINGS: 18+, unprotected sex, choking kink
Food is a love language. A way of showing the ones you love that you appreciate them through new and family recipes. When words fail, a seasoned pan-seared steak with roasted vegetables can do the trick.
Surely, that’s how it’s been for Ian and you. He was introduced to your cooking in college of all places when he was invited to a dinner party and you were the head chef of your friend’s apartment. Culinary school treated you well – even through the hair-graying stress at times. And you adored treating people well through their stomachs’.
Ian was smitten the moment he saw you walk out from the kitchen with a tray of kebabs to add to the table. All he could think about was that you looked as perfect as the food you made for everyone.
“Cat’s got your tongue?” his friend said to him during the dinner, knowing full well Ian was too nervous to approach you. Mind you, this is not an issue for Ian Malcolm, playboy since the day he discovered that flirting could get you somewhere with a woman.
He didn’t want to be that way with you. He could just tell you didn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit – and you didn’t.
Years rolled by and a friendship blossomed. The said friendship turned into dating and dating turned into marriage. The big family wedding wasn’t on the radar, so you guys opted for city hall. You knew his history with now having ex-wives and multiple children. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into, but you knew he was worth it.
You’ve exchanged your chef coat and hat for an apron that ends up being covered in baking ingredients. The bakery you opened up turned into a cafe hangout, reminiscent of the one you used to visit with your friends in college as an escape. Seeing 20-somethings in groups go to your shop as an escape from campus helps you sleep better at night.
That and having your husband’s arm around you firmly to the point where it’s rendered difficult to get out of bed in the morning.
Rainy Sundays were your prime days to bake for your home. Just a house filled with Ian, you, and occasionally his children. Today was an Ian and you day, soft bossa nova playing from your record player as you bake his favorite cookies. Ian always joked how you were going to fatten him up with how well you bake and cook, yet the man is still physically built as ever. That’ll be his fault with how many times you catch him stealing a baked good or two late at night.
Ever since he came back from his weekend trip from hell, you made sure to have days where quality time was spent with each other. It was days like this that had you two on the couch, him laying on top of you, head on your chest with your fingers running through his hair.
The house was filled with the aroma of the cookies baking. Somehow this turned into a pheromone for the both of you.
“Fuck- yes, Ian, oh my God!” you screamed as he was pounding into you.
When he lifted you up on the counter you knew what was about to go down. You were craving him just as much as he was craving you.
That was another thing you noticed when he came back from that weekend: him having a near death experience has made him more hornier. Ian realized he needed all of you that much more. It scared the hell out of him that there was the possibility of not being able to give you a goodbye before leaving this Earth. He turned his existential crisis into some good use.
“You’re just too good to me, I had to give you something back, baby,” and his hand slid down to your core to rub on your clit while continuing his pace. You steadied yourself with your hands on his shoulders and Ian took the opportunity to snake his other hand around your neck gently.
Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head as you could feel your climax slowly build. He wouldn’t slow down, but you weren’t complaining. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his pace quickened on your clit. Ian could feel you getting close and he wanted his wonderful wife to have as many earth-shattering orgasms as she pleases.
“Come for me, baby. Come on my cock,” Ian whispered to you that launched a louder moan. His voice alone was able to get you wet. Hearing it during sex? You were a goner.
With his hand still on your neck he holds your head against the cabinet door to watch the orgasm rip right through you. The neighbors are probably going to get worried over how loud you were getting, but Ian couldn’t give a fuck. He had the best view in front of him.
Not long after yours you would feel his cock twitch and release inside you. His groans were throaty, but it was a symphony to you. His pretty voice matched with those moans. It was all heaven to you.
The timing was ever so perfect because the oven beeped. The cookies were ready.
“Can you do me another favor?”
“Anything, sweetheart,” Ian lazily kisses you as you two clung onto each other, catching your breaths’.
“Could you please take the trays out of the oven for me? I need a moment.” Ian chuckles and slips out of you. You watch with wide eyes as you see that it was dripping out of you. He feels you up softly, causing you to jolt from the sensitivity. Ian brings his fingers up to your mouth and you gladly accept to suck on them.
