Author Notes: Hello! Final chapter up as promised. Hope you've enjoyed it and don't forget to let me know, OK? :D

A very Happy Birthday to Moonlight and Tangerines!

- Chapter Start -

Apparently, Zero can still think. The instant he hears the clink of my belt buckle, he reaches behind and grabs my hand. Kaname, stop that right now or I upend the pan over your head, he pants. I hesitate. Then I pout. Finally, I take a deep breath and withdraw my fingers as slowly as I can, feeling him shudder all the way. When they're finally out, Zero takes three deep breaths and hitches up his slipping shorts. Then he spins around to glare at me.

You're insatiable, he growls. He's all burning eyes, full out fangs, red lips and heaving chest. I stare at him in mute adoration, knowing I'm just moments away from claiming him. He knows that too. Zero, I want you, I manage to say. He nods, his eyes burning brighter.

Five more minutes, Kaname, he promises. Five minutes, I echo in dismay. I don't know if I can wait five seconds. He narrows those gorgeously fiery eyes at me. Five minutes, I parrot obediently. He nods approvingly and turns back to the stove. I blink and swallow. Then I turn around and make my way back to the pie shells on the counter. Walking in a straight line right now seems... difficult so I let a certain part of me point the way, so to speak.

Five minutes. Five minutes. Five minutes.

I glance over my shoulder. Zero stares at the pan for a full five seconds as if he's forgotten what to do next. Then he lifts the pan. With both hands. I blink. Are those muscular arms shaking?

Four minutes and fifty seconds.

I can do this, I tell myself. Zero walks over to me, frowning deeply in concentration. He's not walking in a straight line either. But he too has something to point the way and it's aimed right at me. I swallow and lock my knees to keep from lunging at him. He holds the steaming pan over the first pie shell and pauses, carefully avoiding my gaze. Yes, his arms are definitely shaking.

Four minutes and forty seconds.

I can wait. A pureblood is nothing if not patient. Zero tips the pan slowly, still frowning fiercely. A stream of creamy filling pours into the shell.

Four minutes and thirty five seconds.

I can wait. Just keep looking at that pie filling, Kaname. It smells good, doesn't it? Yes, it does. It's hot, it's savoury and it's tight. I blink. Oh, that's Zero. Well, the pie is gorgeous too. I glance up at Zero's side profile. His frown has escalated to a scowl. I lick my lips.

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

I force my gaze back to the filled pie shell, but it soon darts up again. Zero's pale chest is still heaving, his buttered nipples shiny and puckered. I lick my lips again. My gaze drops a little lower. Zero's stomach muscles are tightly clenched. He moves the pan over to the other pie shell and tips it again.

Four minutes and twenty seconds.

My chest is heaving too. I drop my gaze still further. A growl escapes my throat. Zero's shorts are still tented. They're also pulsing. I think I can burn them right off him if I stare hard enough. I try my best. The pulsing increases rapidly, but the shorts remain intact. Damn.

Four minutes and ten seconds.

I don't think I can - no! Focus, Kaname, you can do it! The second pie shell is filled. Finally. Zero makes a tiny noise in his throat. I think he agrees. He turns towards me to get a spoon from the cutlery holder. I'm now looking - gazing - staring - salivating at the gorgeous shift of muscles in his flat, defined stomach. Right in the middle of that taut expanse sits the loveliest of innies. It tastes just like that tiny spot beneath its owner's earlobes Trust me, it does. I think my tongue is hanging out.

Four minutes exactly. That's it. The five minutes are up. Ready or not, Zero, here I come. And you're coming with me.

Yes, I meant it that way.

I snatch the empty pan from Zero with one hand and tear off his shorts with the other. Wait, he gasps. Can't, I gasp back. Just a moment, he grits out. No, I grit back. Pies - oven - first, he insists eloquently. No - can't - now, I return just as articulately. I rub myself against his back, up and down, side to side. He groans. I suck at his neck. He growls. I scrape my fangs over his neck. He slaps one slice of pastry over the first pie to cover it. I pinch his nipples. He almost slams the last slice of pastry over the other pie. I thrust my tongue right into his ear. Both pies almost land on the floor.

Insatiable twit, Zero gasps, grimly holding onto the tray. I love you too, I mumble to the first vertebrae of his spine. I whip off my belt and push my trousers down to my ankles. No underwear - purebloods plan in advance. I press up against him. Pies first, Zero moans. Later, I murmur adoringly to his third vertebrae, sliding my hips up and down. Impatient twit, he gasps. I love you, I ardently inform his sixth vertebrae. The oven's nearby, he pleads. Too far, I mumble against his tenth - no, twelve - no, fifteenth vertebrae. You're sleeping on the couch, he warns. With you, I say smugly.

Zero growls and wrenches himself away. I follow. He moves towards the oven inch by determined inch, gripping the baking tray in his fists and dragging along a just as determined pureblood hanging from his waist. He reaches the oven. I groan in protest and nip his shoulder blade. He hisses and bends forward, using his fangs to pull open the oven door. Good thing he doesn't have any important documents to sign tomorrow. I fall onto my knees, dragging my fangs down his spine. He curses. I then drag my fangs all over one taut buttock. It flexes. Zero whimpers, but manages to thrust the tray into the oven. I move over to his other buttock. It flexes as well, but he succeeds in slamming the oven door shut. Not to be outdone, I part his buttocks with both hands. Zero chokes and twists the temperature knob. I use my tongue on him. The knob almost comes off in his hand.

So Zero wins. I don't care. Struggling up to my feet, I place his hands on the edge of the counter. He grips it and spreads his legs obligingly, bending forward. I push myself in. One inch. Pause. A soft curse spills out. Another inch. Pause again. He draws in a shuddering breath. One more inch. Pause. Zero groans. I push in the rest of the way. He pushes back. We both stop when I can't go in anymore. He's panting hard, his breath fogging up the glass door of the oven. I'm panting just as hard, my mouth stuck to his shoulder.

Move, he growls. But you're still sleeping on the couch, he adds. I grin and obey. He grips the countertop and moans my name. I thrust into him, deeper and faster each time, fisting him just as fast. He cries out and releases onto the oven door as I explode inside him. It's over a lot faster than usual.

I can't think why.

One minute of heavy panting later, I slide out, turn Zero around and sit him on the counter. He wraps his knees around my waist and I sink into him again. He wraps his arms around my neck, mine go around his back. We move and buck and strain until we erupt in each other's arms again. This time, five minutes pass as we slowly drift in bliss. We kiss. Then I carry him over to the table with our bodies still joined and his legs around my waist. I sit on one of the kitchen stools, lean back against the table and hold him as he rides me hard.

When we finally finish, we can't even speak. A good ten minutes pass with Zero resting on my chest and my chin resting on his head.

Zero finally murmurs that the pies are done. How do you know, I mumble. The oven gives off a smug 'ping' of completion. Zero lifts his head and smiles at me. Because I can smell it, he says. I don't smell anything but you, I say. He's now all soft eyes, pink flush and radiant glow. He looks gorgeous. I hope he's forgotten about the couch thing. I kiss him hopefully. You're an insatiable twit, he grumbles against my mouth. I know, I sigh back. I think he's forgotten. Good.

Zero climbs off of me with a groan. Then he makes a face and runs for the kitchen paper. We use five minutes and half a roll of kitchen paper to clean up ourselves, the oven door, the countertop, the kitchen stool and certain parts of the floor. We use another five minutes to shower. Only five because we use separate bathrooms. Zero's idea, not mine.

We finally sit down to hot coffee and warm, lopsided chicken pot pies. I cut into the pastry and finds it takes quite a bit of effort before it breaks. I remember the too much rubbing episode and bite my lip. The savoury filling sloshes out onto my plate. I can't even see the chicken meat anywhere. I remember the overly long simmering episode and bite my lip again.

How's the pie, Zero asks quietly. I tell him it's delicious. He glares at me. We finish eating our pies in silence. I vow never to interfere with his cooking ever again. I even apologise. He shrugs and stacks our plates together. When he stands up and winces, I take the plates out of his hands and pull him onto my lap. He doesn't argue this time, but nuzzles into my neck and bites down. I sigh with bliss and kiss his hair. Then I ask what are we having for dinner tomorrow.

Zero slides his fangs out, glares at me and says we're eating out. I smile and pull his head down to my neck again. He takes some more and licks my neck tenderly. When he asks if I want to watch TV, I say of course. He goes to the fridge and brings out the double chocolate ice cream. I beam at him and follow him out of the kitchen. Then I nip back to retrieve my notebook which I carefully lock away in my study.

So. Is the experiment a success? Yes. The pies are ruined. But I know better now. Zero loves cooking and he loves me. I love his cooking and I love him. So that's it. End of story.

Zero calls out my name. I go to the living room and join him on the couch. I'm in love with the most wonderful hunter in the whole wide world and no, the tub of double chocolate ice cream in his hand has nothing do to with it. I give him a goofy grin and he feeds me a spoonful of icy cold, chocolatey goodness. I lean against him and wonder what it would taste like served on his nipples. After all, there's no preparation or cooking involved, is there?

I grin deviously to myself. Sometimes, a pureblood never learns his lesson.

- Story End -