He has to laugh. He can’t help it. “No, it is like that. And thank fuck for that. There’s a lot I’m ready and willing to have smeared all over me by you, but melted sugar and chocolate isn’t really at the top of the list.”

Not that he would be opposed to it, exactly. Using food in erotic ways isn’t a novel concept for him. He’s done it before, usually at the behest of someone else. It’s not really his thing. Honestly, he can take it or leave it, not being much of a fan of the mess it inevitably makes. So he’s far from disappointed that it isn’t Justin’s thing either.

“But okay. Here goes.”

Making smores isn’t as complicated as making lasagna. He takes a pair of crackers, snaps off two pieces of chocolate to set on one of the crackers, and pokes the end of the skewer through the middle of the marshmallow. Leaning forward, he extends it into the flames, where it immediately catches fire. He pulls it back out, blows it out, and tries again, this time close but not too close. Keeping an eye on it as it starts to blacken, he glances briefly at Justin from the corner of his eye.

“How’m I doing?”