Cheescake
The cheesecake appears in only a very consolatory fashion.
"Seriously," Blake thought, "what an asshole." Still fuming from the memory of how his Philosophy Lecturer condescendingly answered his question, Blake strode briskly across the road without checking for cars. He may as well have danced naked in front of the whole cohort with his bare black-spotted ass hanging out for all to see, for all the respect he had now.
Across the street Blake entered the budget flat complex, caught the second open elevator in merciful solitude and impatiently taped his foot to the terrible music as he waited for the fourth floor. He knew it probably wasn't fair to subject Leonard to his foul mood, but he wasn't quite ready to bail on their house date either. Besides, maybe the wolf/hybrid thing would cheer him up. Usually with that slutty way he cupped his balls and wiggled his sheath so that his erect dick swayed from side to side. Would it be too much to hope that that would be what greeted him at the door?
Blake stepped out of elevator onto mauve carpet and used his copy of the key (which he was not supposed to have due to the landlord's policy regarding subletting, but quite frankly fuck him) and made sure to take his time fiddling with the key such that any occupant on the other side would have ample time to prepare a suitably risqué greeting for the Dalmatian. When he opened the door he was Not greeted with the visage of his naked boyfriend, which only added to his bitter resentment of the world as it was. He knew he wasn't really entitled to having his fantasies gratified at every moment, but he was in the sort of irrationally angry mood that allowed him to make plans of petulant revenge on his hapless boyfriend and have them seem perfectly reasonable.
"Fine," Blake thought, "no sex for him at all then." Then aloud he said, "Len, it's me!"
Leonard lived modestly. Of course he did. Six years as a university student rarely left one financially solvent enough to afford much in the way of luxury. One thing he had amassed a modest collection of though, were books. These remained safely contained in his room, and which Blake had spent many an evening pouring over following an exhausting night over. There was an assortment of ill-advisedly purchased textbooks that were never really used enough to justify their expense, but had also failed to sell themselves second hand. He had virtually the entire forty-something collection of Terry Pratchett's Discworld series as well as a couple of art books (mostly dedicated to Magic: The Gathering). Finally, there was also a small shelf dedicated to a stash of yaoi, gay erotica novels, and good old fashion porn arranged in just such a way as to not be obvious, but not so well as to avoid the notice of a still-horny Dalmatian looking for mischief while his boyfriend was in the shower.
Leonard had apparently been sleeping, because he soon darkened the doorway across the living room looking groggy and wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Blake briefly wondered how that could be the case for someone with his absurd number of contact hours, then remembered that those contact hours started bizarrely early, and happened to be clustered on every day of the week BUT Thursday. "Hey." The blue tinged wolf muttered, before looking down to acknowledge his somewhat minimalist attire.
"Oh, sorry." He said. Then he left for his room, presumably to change clothes into something he didn't sleep in. Blake ventured deeper into the shared living room and parked himself on the second-hand couch with the second-hand TV remote to find something mindless but inoffensive to watch while he waited. The wait was not long.
"There we go." Leonard re-entered the room much as before. Except now he was wearing nothing but his glasses and a smile.
Blake summoned his best scowl, secretly relishing his chance to withhold sex in reckless exploitation of petty authority. "Subtle, Leonard."
"Why whatever do you mean dearest?" Leonard intoned. He titled his head and perked his ears, tail wagging slightly.
"I'm not in the mood." Blake lied, before turning back to the TV.
"You, not in the mood? Perhaps I will just check to make sure hell hasn't frozen over, and that the Sun has not plunged into the Sea." Leonard said in mock soprano.
"Alright," Blake conceded, "perhaps I am close enough to the mood that it would be very easy to send me into it. But I really don't feel like rewarding this sort of behaviour so..."
Leonard propped himself up by his elbows on the armrest. "I didn't hear a no."
"Alright then," said Blake harshly, "no."
"'No,' what?" Leonard was all playful now. "Be specific dearest."
"No, I'm not going to sleep with you." Blake replied.
Leonard grinned. "Who said anything about sleep?"
"Alight, I'm not going to have sex with you." Blake snapped.
"Are you sure?" Leonard whined.
"Very." Said Blake.
"But how can you be so sure?" Leonard pressed. "I mean surely only time will tell what the future holds. I mean, there is every opportunity that you'll be taken with a sudden all-consuming lust, or that I slip something into your drink."
"All consuming lust?" Blake's voice was monotone.
"It could happen." Countered Leonard.
"Mmm-hmm." Blake turned back to the TV. Some starving actress was breaking down as she confessed to her well known drug problem. Leonard crept over to the couch, still butt naked mind you, and leaned over to bring his muzzle about level with Blake's floppy obsidian ear and began to make... noise?
"What are your whispering?" Blake asked, desperately trying to hid his smile by confining it to the side of his muzzle Leonard couldn't see.
"Sweet nothings." Replied Leonard.
"Sounds like gibberish." Blake retorted.
Leonard looked incredulous. "What do you think sweet nothings are?" Well, whatever they were they weren't working to Leonard's satisfaction, so he decided to change tact. Standing up, Leonard managed to manoeuvre his hips forward just to the side of Blake's head. But hoisting his left knee up, he got just that little bit of extra leverage to be able to push his sheath just to the edge of Blake's peripheral vision.
"Len, stop it." Blake was struggling to resist turning to face the furry bulge completely, and Len was struggling to make himself as in-ignorable as possible. "Len!"
"What?" Leonard mocked innocently, "I'm not touching you."
"No but you are annoying me." Blake's voice was so cartoonishly angry it HAD to be fake.
"Well I may as well touch you as well if you're going to be annoyed either way." He leaned down again to gently press his nose at Blake ear.
"Len, this isn't going to work." Blake's tone was neutral now. And neutral was completely un-fun.
"Probably not, no. But to be honest, this kind of works for me anyway." He continued to nuzzle and snuffle for a few minutes, while Blake amazingly managed to keep his composure. It got easier to ignore by the second minute. By the third, it was almost boring. Eventually, deciding a game where you were the only player wasn't very fun, he retreated behind the couch to the shared kitchen and began making more productive noises.
Eventually, inevitably, curiosity won out. "What are you doing?" Blake asked.
Leonard looked up from a packet of biscuits, a bowl and a rolling pin. "Making cheesecake." He answered.
Blake puckered his ears and tilted his head in that adorable way only dogs could. "Seriously?"
"Lemon cheesecake. I figure if I can't have sex, then maybe I can eat." Leonard was self-evidently grinding up scotch biscuits with the rolling pin. Blake sighed. Cheesecake DID sound good.
"Alright. What do you need me to help with." Said Blake, joining Leonard in the kitchen. "By the way, do you think you should put clothes on before one of your roommates gets home?"
"They won't be back for four hours, minimum. Please melt about 150 grams of butter, thank you. Then get two lemons out of the fridge ice-box." Leonard was busily attacking the bowl, getting little flakes of biscuit debris in his stomach fur. Blake did as he was asked, but instead of going to the directly to the fridge, he chose to wrap his hands Leonard's torso and rest his cheek on his back. Apparently, this game was even more fun for Blake with the roles reversed. "What?" Leonard asked.
"Cheesecake does sound good." Blake reached down to give Leonard's cream coloured sheath a tight squeeze. "But I have something better in mind."
"Well," Leonard returned to crushing the biscuits for the cake base. "Sorry, hun but that ship has sailed for the time being. I'll get this in the oven first, then see how I feel."
Blake huffed with faux indignation. "Lemons are where again?" "Ice-box at the bottom of the fridge." Leonard answered, not even looking up to acknowledge Blake's hilariously over-the-top pout. Blake secured two fresh lemons, ripe and sweet and ready for squeezing. He shot a glance at Leonard's back, tracing the curvature of his shoulders and butt, following the movement of his gently wagging tail. He allowed himself a new fantasy. One where he viciously speared himself down on Leonard's knot on the couch, while his lover delicately plopped forkfuls of cheesecake into his panting muzzle. He salivated at the picture, it was the kind of gratification normally isolated to fetish porn.
Blake allowed himself the kind of smile normally worn by the kind of people who foreclosed on orphanages, confident in the knowledge that the night would end with plenty of sweated knotting in addition to cheesecake.