Covered Dish

The invitation surprised her but she accepted it gladly. They had been friends for years, yet they had precious little time to spend together. Dinner in his cabin would be delight.

She arrived exactly on time, freshly showered and wearing her casual best. The Krellian silk tunic shimmered with violets and blues to enhance her ivory pale skin and indigo eyes. The dark blue leggings showed off her legs. She looked good and she knew it.

Judging from his reaction, he knew it too.

"Welcome." He greeted her with a glorious smile, his hand touching her just for a moment, making her skin tingle.

"Thank you," she replied, stepping across the threshold and getting her first look at the dinner table. It was beyond extravagant.

Crystal flutes glowed rose, the liquid inside illuminated by candlelight. Silverware lay swathed in damask napkins beside china that even she recognized as Eeishka, the inlaid opaline stark against the black of the plate. In the center of the table sat a cut crystal bowl filled with water, and floating gently within were two rare and delicate fire lilies.

Nothing on the table was replicated, except, perhaps, the silver. The gesture affected her deeply, and she sought his eyes, unable to voice her appreciation with mere words.

"You're welcome," he responded, holding out a chair for her. Taking his place across from her, he smiled, watching as she traced the pattern on her plate with a gentle touch.

He served her a queen's feast, light yet savory, full of exotic tastes and textures. The memory of her last meal, coffee and croissants so many hours ago, faded quickly. They laughed and talked as the hour passed unnoticed.

"That was wonderful," she sighed, dabbing at her mouth before placing the napkin on her plate.

"We're not done yet."

She watched him rise, laying his napkin aside, then cross to the sideboard where the pile of empty dishes lay. There was one small plate off to the side, covered with a silver dome. He lifted it gently and she noticed the care with which he handled it.

"My lady," he whispered, his voice oddly hoarse. He placed the plate in front of her, sliding her dirty dishes out of the way. Their eyes locked.

"What is it?"

"Something I've been meaning for you to try for a long time."

She reached for the dome, but he stopped her, lifting the lid himself. His eyes never left hers, and she almost couldn't pull herself away to look down.

"Look," he whispered.

She did.

It was small and smooth and nearly clear, with a multitude of surfaces that reflected the light. A perfect gem.

"Taste it."

Uncertain she reached for her fork. His touch stopped her.

"Like this." He lifted the single morsel and carefully placed it in the palm of her hand. It was cold and smooth and lovely and it quivered slightly when touched.

She lifted it to her lips, but hesitated. "Aren't you having any?"

"No. This is for you."

She considered this, a smiling touching her lips. She locked her eyes onto his and raised the morsel to her lips once more. Deliberately she dragged her tongue across the top, delighted by the tangy-tart flavor.

Watching her, he swallowed hard.

She licked the treat again.

He swallowed harder and braced one hand on the table.

She relented at last, beckoning to him. "Why don't we share?"

She held the sticky sweet out to him and he ran his tongue over it and beyond, down to her wrist where he placed a kiss before stepping back. She shuddered.

The morsel was dwindling fast, the remnants puddled in her hand. She looked at it sadly. "It's almost gone."

"Good thing I made more."

That tone of voice made her smile. He was almost purring.

"You did?" She played the coquette so well.

"Indeed. Would you like to see?"

"You are the host."

"True." He reached over and took the last of the treat in his mouth, scraping his teeth across her palm as he did. He felt her shiver.

She allowed him to lead her into the bedroom where another, larger dish sat on his nightstand. Inside were dozens of the grape-sized delight.

He fed her one as he undressed her, then kissed her, capturing the flavor, then allowed her to do the same.

The bowl was only half-empty when they abandoned it for other, more interesting tastes and textures. It wasn't until morning, when she was helping him clear away the debris that she remembered to ask him what the little treats were called.

"Something rare and exotic, like you my love," he answered, giving her a kiss. "I found them in the archives. They're called jell-o."

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