“I’m familiar with my cock,” Valen said.
Sam bit down on his lip, trying not to laugh. Harris elbowed Valen. “Save that for later.”
Valen elbowed him back, mischief gleaming in his eyes.
When Sam regained his composure, he lifted the chicken’s wings. “The cleanest cuts are along the joints. For example, here.”
He snapped the chicken’s joints, then traced the edge of his knife down the skin, so it parted to reveal cartilage. “When you feel the knife’s edge lodge in the joint, that’s where you make your cut.”
Then he sliced the wing off, and did the same for the other side. “It’s the same with the thighs. You might like to snap the joints first, though.” He pulled the chicken thighs back, and two pops rang through the kitchen. “With a sharp knife, it’s really easy to work through all the raw flesh.”
With quick, simple strokes, Sam detached the thighs, lining them up next to the wings.
“Okay, maybe we should be afraid of Sam,” Valen said, stepping closer to Harris. “You’re really something with that knife, Sam.”
Harris agreed. It was a pleasure to watch Sam, actually, the confident way he handled the carcass, the way he relaxed when he focused on the food.
So maybe Harris wanted to watch Sam for longer, watch that omega smile, his eyes all lit up like that.
Stop watching him, Harris told himself. You don’t need your heart broken again.
Sam glanced up, his lips curling into a grin. “You’ll learn these knife skills, too. Now, what we have left is the body.”
And all it took was a smile, for Harris’ stomach to flip.
Sam slid the knife between the chicken breasts, pausing at the bone. “There’s a weak spot in the bones here,” Sam said. “Once you break through it, the body’s really easy to work with.”
“You say everything’s easy,” Valen muttered.
“It is! All you need is practice.” Sam pressed down on the point of his knife, broke through bone, and opened the carcass up before them. The next few slices went quick, simple cuts that left them with neat chunks of raw chicken.
Even though Harris knew Sam was a chef, he couldn’t help but be impressed.
“It doesn’t take long if you know what you’re doing,” Sam said, rinsing the knife at the sink. “Now... time for you to try it yourselves.”
“I have dibs on that knife,” Harris said.
“Jerk,” Valen muttered.
“Hey, it’s not like we can’t share.” Harris nudged his lover, smiling. “Yeah?”
A mischievous grin spread through Valen’s face. “Yeah.”
Sam eyed them warily. “The knife’s sharp. Be careful with it.”
“I have a blunt tool.” Valen’s grin mellowed into a smirk. “Slides in real easy, though.”
“Gods, V.” Harris took the knife from Sam, trying not to smile. “Don’t chase him off with that.”
Sam’s cheeks darkened. “I, uh, I’ll get a pot ready for these,” he said. “We’ll just be using the breasts today, but you can slow-cook the dark meat for meals tomorrow.”
“I’ll show you where the pots are,” Valen said.
Harris looked at the carcass on his cutting board, lifting the chicken’s wings. It felt cold, kind of clammy. He found the dip of the joints beneath the skin, though, the places where he was supposed to make the cuts.
Tried the dull knife on the chicken. Then, the sharp knife. Was surprised by how easily the blade slid through skin and cartilage. It gave a whole new meaning to the word ‘vulnerable’.
“Doing okay?” Sam asked to his side.
Harris blinked. He hadn’t been aware of Sam stepping so close. “Yeah. I forgot how you separate the body, though.”
“Here.” Sam took the knife from Harris, making a cut through the front of the chicken. “Then you press down on this bit here—you should feel a pop when you get through the cartilage.”
The cartilage snapped. Sam spread the carcass out in front of Harris, demonstrating with one breast. Then he handed the knife back.
Truthfully, Harris wanted to watch Sam do it all, so he could admire this omega. It’d probably reek of a power imbalance, though, so he took the knife back, mimicking Sam’s cuts.
“There you go,” Sam said when Harris laid out the pieces of his chicken. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
With Sam’s back turned, Valen stalked up behind him, catching him by the hips. Then he tugged Sam back against himself, grinding into his ass. “Want to see my chicken?”
Sam’s entire face turned scarlet, and a tiny, strangled yelp fell from his lips.
Harris had to give Valen points for creativity. Somewhat. He couldn’t stop looking at Sam, though, wondering what Sam would look like if it was just the two of them, Harris touching him.
“Sorry.” Valen grinned, releasing Sam. He slid his hands into Sam’s back pockets. Then he paused, his forehead crinkling. Pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Oh,” Sam said. “That’s my mom’s pickle soup recipe.”
“I remember that soup,” Valen said. “It was good.”
Somehow, the flush on Sam’s face turned even darker. Valen scrutinized him. “What’s wrong?”
Sam shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”
“Can’t look like that and say it’s nothing,” Valen said, wrapping his arms around Sam. “Spit it out.”
Sam looked like he might refuse to speak. Then he sighed. “My mom wanted you to have this recipe.”
Valen raised his eyebrows.
“So you could make it for me,” Sam said, looking away. “You really don’t have to. I... wait. I was supposed to have washed this pair of jeans last week.”
He frowned down at himself, confused and horrified. And Harris wanted to pull him close, wipe that horror off his face.
“Big H and I will help take your jeans off.” Valen winked, looking down at the recipe. “I’d make this for you. You liked that soup.”
Sam blushed, and Harris slapped Valen on the ass. “Get started on your chicken. We’re all waiting for you.”
“What a taskmaster,” Valen said, still grinning. He tucked the recipe into his own pocket. “But Harris is like that in bed, too.”
“Valen,” Harris muttered, scowling.
Sam’s
