WARNING:
THERE IS EXPLICIT SEX AND BONDAGE GAMES IN THIS STORY. I marked this clearly in the header. The sex is graphic, but all loving and consensual (and not that much worse than a typical romance novel). If reading sex scenes like that would offend you, please don't read this.

If you want to comment, send email to <luba@lubakmetyk.net>

"That was a wonderful strawberry shortcake Rahne made us for dessert tonight," Kitty Pryde commented idly, as she nuzzled her face contentedly into Pete Wisdom's bare chest in the languorous afterglow of their latest lovemaking. "I'm so full I felt like I would burst a couple of times just now. When she brought it out right after dinner, I kept telling myself I couldn't possibly eat another bite but it looked and tasted so good I just couldn't resist. Those cooking lessons Sam's been giving her have really paid off."

"You think that was somethin' so great?" Wisdom demanded, as he propped himself up a bit higher on the pillows. He was feeling so good at the moment he was a bit giddy, and getting some outrageous but intriguing ideas popping into his head. He kept one arm around Kitty's svelte form, holding her to him snugly as he shifted on the bed, and reached out his other arm to snag a cigarette from the battered pack of Marlboros lying on the bedside table. Lighting it with a miniature hotknife off the end of his little finger, Pete went on, "I could do better 'n that."

"Don't be silly, Pete." Kitty lifted and waved her hand around in a futile effort to disperse the smoke cloud he'd blown out with a satisfied sigh after his first deep drag; she was feeling much too good right now to start a big fuss about his smoking and ruin her mood, and Pete knew that, and was taking shameless advantage of it. "You loved her cake too, admit it -- you certainly ate more than anyone else did. And I'll admit you're better in a kitchen than anyone might guess -- which still isn't saying much -- but you'd have to be a gourmet chef to top today's dessert."

Pete looked back at her with a devilish gleam deep in his vivid blue eyes that she'd learned to recognize. "Want t' bet?"

"Sure." Kitty knew there had to be more to his challenge than what he'd said so far. But she'd been hooked, and he knew that, too. She wasn't going to worry about being had, though -- every other time Pete had succeeded in maneuvering her into a similar position, she'd enjoyed herself immensely whether she'd won or lost. "But who decides whose cake is better?"

"You do, love," Pete offered promptly, magnanimously, and now Kitty was positive he was up to something. "But you have t' promise t' help, see," he grinned at her engagingly, "an' do whatever I say."

Definitely up to something sneaky, she decided, and now she was being consumed by curiosity. It was time to up the stakes. "Ok, whatever you say -- but, if I win, if you can't match Rahne's dessert, then you can't smoke for a whole week -- anywhere, anytime, whether I'm around or not."

Pete winced at that, taking a comforting drag off his cigarette half unconsciously, then nodded and riposted, "Right, then. But if I win, if you agree my version is better, you don't bitch an' moan about me fags -- or me booze -- for a whole month, not even once. Deal?"

After they'd sat up and solemnly shaken hands to seal the bet, Wisdom stubbed out his cigarette butt, kicked loose of the bedcovers and swung his legs over the side and down to the floor. "No time like the present, then. C'mon, slugabed, up."

"Boy, talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Kitty laughed at him as he stood to loom over her, then protested half-heartedly, "Pete, it's late, and I'm still full from Rahne's wonderful cake. Can't we wait until tomorrow?" He might be both a nightowl and a bottomless pit when it came to food -- that was just another weird mutant talent of his, as far as Kitty was concerned -- but she was neither.

"But we want th' comparison to be nice an' fresh, don't we?" Wisdom grinned down at her. He knew he had her trapped. "Fair's fair, right?" She groaned theatrically when he pulled her up out of the bed, but didn't fight him or try to yank him back down.

The recessed overhead lights came on automatically as the door opened and the pair entered the silent, empty kitchen, wearing their usual late- night garb of him in his trousers only and her using his shirt as a robe. Kitty wasn't too surprised to see Wisdom lock the door firmly behind them, then walk over to the unobtrusive security panel to take the surveillance sensors and video cameras in this room off-line until manually re-enabled. She'd added that simple override herself to all the Muir Island systems soon after she and Pete had first gotten together, in sheer self-defense against the high probability of dying of total mortification if any of her teammates ever stumbled across a recording of some of the 'exercises' her new lover was constantly and enthusiastically teaching her, often on the spur of the moment in quite unexpected locales.

"I thought we were just going to make strawberry shortcake," she remarked pertly, teasingly, as Pete turned back to her with a smug grin plastered on his thin, expressive face. "Why are you locking us in, and the cameras out?"

"Just tryin' t' keep me recipe secret, like," he smirked at her. To her amazement, he did head for the refrigerator then, where he took out a basket of the fresh, small, bright red fruit. Whatever Kitty may have been expecting, Pete actually making a cake was not high on her list.

Wisdom washed the strawberries at the large sink, while Kitty came up behind him to wrap her arms around him loosely and lean against his back, enjoying the salty taste of his skin against her lips and the musky scent of him. Relishing her snuggling against him, he didn't rush, and rinsed the fruit thoroughly. But, eventually, he shrugged her off gently and moved away to line the small red berries up along the counter, as Kitty propped herself against the sink to watch. Then, after a brief moment's silent preparation, he stepped back and fanned his hand sideways rapidly. Kitty's mouth fell open, then let out a whistle of honest admiration as the strawberries slid slowly into piles of neat slices, without any sign of damage to the wooden countertop underneath from his hotknives. "Well, Pete, I admit I'm impressed. You've been practicing behind my back again, I see." He gave her a mock bow, preening at her obvious admiration. "And I'll admit Rahne probably couldn't slice them with her claws that quickly or that neatly. But how you slice them doesn't affect the final taste..."

"We ain't nowhere near done yet." Pete went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a container of whipped cream. He left that sitting on the counter next to the berries, and began wandering the kitchen, yanking open drawers and looking inside cabinets.

"What are you looking for, Pete? The cake mix is over here, right where it's supposed to be."

Kitty had started walking over to the small, built-in pantry when Wisdom said, "Nah, I wanted an old tea towel or some such, that the mad Scots witchwoman wouldn't curse me fer usin'."

"Oh, over here, remember?" She swerved to pull open a drawer located conveniently between the sink and the stove, where Moira threw old kitchen linen that could be used for miscellaneous chores and then discarded if unsalvageable. "How many do you want?"

He came over to inspect the old dishcloth Kitty held out, slipping one arm around her to hug her close while he shook the thin cotten fabric out to estimate its size. "Mebbe another like this or, better yet, love, get me four altogether -- thin an' soft... an' clean." He left Kitty to root around among the assorted scraps in the rag-drawer, and moved off again.

She left off her hunt to watch in some amazement as he started moving the ancient wooden tables usually left pushed together to provide enough space for the whole team to eat together. Wisdom first shoved all the mismatched old chairs back against the far wall, then hauled the tables around -- groaning and muttering complaints and curses the whole time -- until he had one clear, with lots of space to walk around it on all sides.

"Pete? Since when does a cake recipe call for old dish towels, or rearranging furniture?"

"You'll see fer yerself, love, in just a second here." Wisdom gave her his best leer, black brows waggling comically. "We're all set now fer me dessert, I just need the last, most important ingredient..."