"What is it with you tonight?" Collete asks, looking over her shoulder pleadingly. The married couple sits upright in their shared bed, each bedside lamp turned on.
"What is it? And it's not just tonight either, you've been like this for months! What happened to your passion?"
Linguini looks aimlessly at the ceiling. Clearly thinking something but unwilling to say. Collete knows him too well, she knows he is holding something back. Remy's bed, unmade on the windowsill, is uncharacteristically empty.
"We used to have passion! We couldn't keep our hands off eachother! I would watch you watching me in the kitchen, knowing how much you wanted to handle me when we finally arrived home - the tension was incredible! I felt wound up at all times! What happened to you Linguini, where has my hungry lion gone?"
Collete had been chasing him like this for weeks. Asking, pleading, suggesting the worst. The pressure on Linguini was intense. He wanted to be passionate but he was holding on to something too. Something he'd never imagined he'd say aloud until - just as Collete launched into a new round of attack - he burst out:
"Okay okay alright! Enough already! You really want to know? You really want to know?"
He leapt up onto all fours now, the moon casting his dangling silhouette across the sheets. Collete pulled a pillow to cover her open-bottomed lingerie. She hadn't seen him this angry in a while. It seemed that, for months, he had hardly spoken at all.
"Fine! I'll tell you! But it's gross and I'm ashamed and I've been trying to put it out of my head but I can't!"
He could see Collete's breath rising and falling slowly beneath the lace, "Yes. Please. I want you to tell me, more than anything."
The carrot-haired chef stayed silent.
"Linguini. Please. I need you. I want you, my lion. I'll do anything, I'm willing to try anything. Please, baby, tell me what you need"
"I want to roast you" he muttered quietly
"What?"
"I want to roast you" he said again, a little bit louder. "I want to brine you, and roast you, and fuck you like a bird."
Down beneath them, stepping carefully so that his shadow wouldn't fall past the bedpost, Remy listened intently with his whiskers in the air...
-----
Today was the day. Collete had hardly slept the night before. She'd washed her body clean in the shower and then washed it again, pushing soapy fingers into each crease of her body, knowing that she would soon be with her lover again, after all of this time. She wanted everything to be perfect for him.
In the kitchen things were different. Spinning in circles, frantic between tasks, Linguini's fingers trembled through the mise en place. The counters were littered with small mistakes - burnt butter in a saucepan, a ring of spilled nutmeg. Remy too felt the pressure, something was stirring in him and he found it hard to focus.
"What's this in the oven? Candied ginger? Oh Little Chef, what are you doing? We don't have time for this we're running late!"
But before Remy could respond, they were both frozen in place. Collete had walked into the kitchen, hands at her sides, body completely uncovered. Her breasts hung askew, the warm shower water still clinging to her full and beautiful bush. She smiled at them slightly, unashamed.
"Shall we begin?"
-----
Linguni lowered her gently into the tub and she did her best to remain lifeless, just as he'd asked. She could feel the salinity of the broth relaxing her. Linguini put one hand behind her neck and another deep into the water, between her legs. He inhaled deeply.
"More allspice Little Chef. And a touch more of the brown sugar." Remy's whiskers tickled Collete's neck as he nodded in agreement.
Later, lying face up on the table, Collete felt more relaxed than she could ever remember being. Letting them push and pull and handle her body, feeling them open up her legs. Linguini's fingers, slick with broth and rendered fat, stuffing inside of her again and again. He was gentle at first, and timid. But with time he became rougher, he moved more quickly and she could feel his excitement rising, feel herself filling with his fantasy, with bread crust and sage, olives and chopped celery... And she grew more excited too, her breath became shallow, unable to tell between her own wetness and that of the stuffing. They lifted up her knees, placed her feet flat on the table, and began working on her ass...
Eyes closed, she lost track of time. They had massaged her with ghee, she remembered, and she could smell the fresh-wrought rosemary and sage. But as she felt the twine twist around her wrists and ankles, feeling so full from the inside she could almost burst, a question formed through the haze: 'Am I ready for the oven now? What does Linguni have in mind?'
Standing high in the rafters, lined shoulder to shoulder, each rat in the colony watched on in silence.
-----
Each La Cornue range is designed and fabricated in Saint-Ouen l'Aumône, just minutes away along the river Oise. Stainless steel trim, enamel body finish, vaulted interior - Lingiuni had placed the custom order months before but left it unboxed in the warehouse. Just that act had been enough to send him breathless to the stockroom, climaxing with frustration into a balled-up apron. But now the day was here.
The room was silent as they pulled her from the oven, Remy pulling gently back on Linguini's red hair. Her face was calm, her skin the most beautiful glaze of brown. Linguini squeezed a breast gently through his oven mitt and heard that satisfying crackle. Solemnly, they carried her to the table. Linguini wore nothing beneath his apron, his cock hard like never before. He crawled up onto the table and kissed her lips, so much heat beaming from her body. He straddled her and pulled her tight, mouth open now, touching and tearing and biting, anxious to have the first taste. He knew they were running in, he could hear their little paws coming closer, he didn't have much time...
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