Chapter Seven

Maximus

Playing catch-up with Tim was a full-time job and made me work harder than I had in my entire life. I was sweating at the horror that rolled through him when his gaze landed on the counter and stared wide-eyed at my crumble.

“I made a crumble for everyone.” I mean, what else could it be? Rhubarb was perfect for a crumble.

“C-r-u-m-b-l-e…” He shuddered and rose from the chair, backing slowly towards the door.

I frowned at the rolling waves of worry coming from Tim. “Where are you going? I thought we were going to talk… drink tea?”

The tea, yeah, that reeked of desperation, but I was doing my best when all I wanted to do was act on the impulsive rhubarb’s suggestions. I did want to get to know him beyond the awful singing and persistent nature.

“No one wants to end up in the pan…”

“Pan? Is this some sort of rhubarb code?” I asked in confusion.

Did we need a lion to rhubarb translator?

He jabbed a finger at the crumble. “In c-r-u-m-b-l-e.”

Another shudder and two things registered at once, the way he always spelled out the word rather than just saying it, and second his distress about the crumble sitting on the side was utterly genuine.

I followed him and before he got to the door—walking backwards was slow going—I scooped him up into my arms. He weighed nothing at all as I tucked him into my chest. “There, there, little stalk, I swear I won’t put you in the pan. In the c-r-u-m-b-l-e.”

He clung to me and eyed me suspiciously. Which would have been funny, if not for how he continued to tremble.

“You promise… no more c-r-u-m-b-l-e… we don’t like the monsters who make it.”

There he was, back to calling me a monster, and I sighed. I’m not a monster. It’s only—

Don’t say it.

Before I could say another word on the subject, teeth were nibbling on my throat and fuzzy little barbs grew over his bare arms, reaching and rubbing against any skin he could get to.

The desire to lie down on the kitchen floor and let him rub all those little fuzzy bits over me was overwhelming, despite anyone from my pride being able to see us.

“I… we… oh… for the love of rhubarb,” I groaned and gasped when he rucked up my T-shirt and brushed the fuzzies over my nipples. The peaked flesh zinged and sent hot waves of desire down to the cock tenting my sweats to outrageous lengths. The feel of the fabric rubbing against the slick head didn’t help when my rhubarb attacked my mouth with his. Hungry, wet kisses made me dizzy alongside his relentless, fuzzy rubbing.

It was as if he had plugged me into a socket and switched on every cell in my body. Everything tingled hard enough to make me weak at the knees.

I stumbled for the door blindly, knocking my shoulders off walls as I bounced my way through the house towards the stairs.

You’ve got too many clothes on…

I groaned in distress as he started to yank and tear my clothing, his questing tongue staying put in my mouth, dueling with mine.

Then the singing started.

I'm too sexy for my rhubarb love, too sexy for my rhubarb love. Love's going to lead me to the bedroom. You’re too sexy for your shirt. Too sexy for your shirt. So sexy it hurts.

Laughter rumbled up my chest. He was too much. How could anyone fight the craziest rhubarb stalk that ever existed?

“Oh yikes! Everyone hide!” Apollo shouted out. “They’re doing it!”

“Get stuffed,” I mumbled past Tim’s seeking lips.

“Stuff me”—Tim exclaimed at the sound of material ripping—“full of lion cock.”

“I’m traumatized,” I thought I heard Apollo state dramatically. The guy should win an Oscar, seriously. But I’d already crashed through my bedroom door and was kicking it shut.

I attempted to drop Tim on the bed, but he was having none of it. Then I was holding the stalk of rhubarb as his clothes fell to the floor.

The sticky sap coating my fingers smelled of… custard?

Rhubarb and custard, it’s a thing. Now get those lips around my fuzzy stalk.

It was impossible to resist him. Right then, I didn’t even know why I’d tried to. I brought the sticky end of the stalk to my lips, inhaled, and opened my mouth.

That’s right, deep throat me baby. How deep can you take me? Suck my sticky stalk. Oh yeah, like that. Give me some tongue action… argh… to the rhubarb gods… so good. Feel my fuzzies, how wild they are for you. Wanna run them all over your body.

I groaned, my cock throbbed and leaked at his dirty encouragement. My mind became flooded with visuals as the fuzzy feel of his stalk rubbed in the inside of my mouth and throat. It was as if he was actually stroking my cock with them.

How the fuck was that?

It’s all in the rhubarb, he chuckled, twirling around on my tongue without me doing a thing.

“Geez,” I gasped around the stalk, thighs clenching together as I got a dollop of custard flavored slick.

That’s right, suck my custard.

How could that be sexy? How?

You’re my mate. It was meant to be.

His words rang through me as he gave another twirl, and my legs gave way. I twisted just in time to land on my mattress, cum hitting the front of my sweats at force as I panted around the stalk in my mouth.

Bite me!

Nothing on the planet would have stopped me. I bit the juicy, sticky stalk and tasted his sweet nectar.

To the power of rhubarb, he squealed in delight.

Could I argue when my cum was soaking my sweats? I collapsed back on the bed, sweaty and sticky, removing the stalk to look at it… feeling…

Sticky for me?

I know… sticky for us. A second later, Tim straddled my lap, grinning widely, looking extremely pleased as he lifted his limp cock and waved it at me. “See, tea drinking would never make me limp for you.”

I roared with laughter, the entire bed shaking as I sat up. “You are utterly—”

“Amazing.” He gave me the sexy smirk from earlier. “I’d go with amazing.”