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A Pickle for the Firefighter
Taylor double-checked the dates on the pickle jars, chewing his lip. It had been over a year since he’d received these. Back then, he’d been pregnant with Felicity, and he’d gone through multiple jars of pickles in a week. Now, Fel was one year old, and Taylor’s pickle consumption had slowed drastically.
These days, he felt a twinge of dread every time he walked past this secondary pantry. The firefighters had given them enough pickles to last three pregnancies. Even after Taylor had distributed a good portion to his Brothers, there were still so many remaining.
“What am I going to do with all these?” he muttered. He’d tried cooking them different ways—deviled eggs, pickle soup, chicken marinated in pickle brine…
What if they spoiled before he could finish them all? That seemed like a terrible waste of a gift.
Before he could despair, footsteps thumped outside the pantry. Moments later, Nate caught the doorjamb, slowing himself to a stop. “She’s asleep. We have an hour.”
Taylor laughed. “What’s the big rush?”
His husband strode in, about to scoop Taylor into his arms. Nate paused, though, sniffing. “You don’t smell like me,” Nate growled, dropping kisses down Taylor’s neck. “Fellie distracted me from marking you this morning, and I was on duty yesterday.”
Even though it had been more than a year since they’d gotten together, Taylor’s heart fluttered at his possessiveness. “You marked me the day before.”
“Not good enough.” Nate eyed the jar of pickles in Taylor’s hand. Then a slow grin crept up his lips. “Maybe replace that with some bigger ones.”
“I thought we were over pickles.”
Nate laughed. “Yeah, I thought so, too. And then Phinny brought those pickles, and I didn’t like the way you stared at his pickles. You’ll only look at my pickles that way.”
Phinny had shown up uninvited this past weekend, with a tray of erect pickles and pickle juice jelly dripping from their tips. Then there had been a giant pickle Taylor had ogled at, wondering how something that huge even existed.
“Maybe tell your friends to stop gifting us pickles,” Taylor suggested dryly. “They haven’t given us a break ever since you took that pickle photo last year.”
Nate’s grin turned lascivious. “Yeah, they’ve been asking if condom technology has improved to hold back even more pickle juice. I told them I was gonna find out.”
He fished a foil square out of his pocket, raising his eyebrows.
Taylor hated that his insides squeezed with anticipation. He hated that he’d enjoyed swallowing pickles—and not with his mouth. Being an ex-agent was one thing, but loving pickles up your ass? Surely there was a limit to how perverse a person could be.
Nate huffed, taking the jar out of Taylor’s hands. “We’ll need some bigger ones for you, babe. That’s nowhere near the size of my cock.”
He pressed a different jar into Taylor’s hands. Then, a second jar with some slender pickles, and a third with pickled eggs—where had those come from?!—and swept Taylor off his feet. Taylor yelped, trying to balance all those jars in his arms.
On the way up the stairs, he said, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“You’ve already had two pickles inside you. How different will this be?”
“You handed me eggs.”
Nate laughed quietly. “And yet I smell your musk, Tay. You can’t hide that from me.”
Taylor flushed. “For all you know, that’s your musk.”
“So explain your hard little cock.”
Taylor pushed the jars onto it. “It’s not hard.”
It was. Very hard.
“Ah.” Nate smiled like he had several things in mind, all of which involved Taylor’s cock, and pleasure.
Taylor gritted his teeth, squirming.
Through the years, he’d lost count of how many times he’d been intimate with his alpha. Before they’d broken up, Nate had already been good in bed—he’d taken the time to learn everything there was to know about Taylor; he even knew Taylor’s body better than Taylor knew himself.
But now that they’d bonded, now that Taylor trusted his alpha completely, they’d gotten impossibly close. Or maybe it was the emotional bond they shared—whenever Nate pushed into him, whenever he held Taylor at the edge and looked into his eyes—the intensity between them was almost overwhelming. Taylor had come just from Nate whispering the words, I love you.
Right now, he had no idea what exactly Nate had in mind, but Taylor knew it was nothing short of maybe five orgasms. Or Nate spreading him open, pushing things into him, in and out until Taylor hissed at him to go harder.
Nate brought Taylor to their bedroom, setting him on the bed. Then he popped open the biggest jar of pickles, turning its lid upside down. “That’s our plate. Forgot to bring one upstairs.”
Taylor wrinkled his forehead. “We need a plate?”
Nate’s smile grew. “You’d kill me if I spill an entire jar on the mattress.”
Yes, Taylor would.
Nate fished two thick pickles out of the biggest jar—those were almost the size of his cock. Then, he grabbed three eggs from the next jar, and a handful of smaller pickles. The jars, he set on the floor.
“That’s not all going into me,” Taylor muttered, tugging the fabric of his pants over his eager length, trying to pretend this didn’t secretly arouse him.
Nate dropped his gaze to Taylor’s bulge, not commenting on it. “They all will, but not at the same time. My cock might have some company inside you, though.”
How would that work out? Taylor swallowed the need rising in his throat, grabbing Nate between the legs. So Nate wouldn’t notice how uneasy Taylor was with this whole pickle thing.
Playing with pickles once? That was an experiment. Aching to spread so your alpha could put them inside you? That was a whole other level of crazy.
Nate grew thicker in his hand; he held down Taylor’s palm and thrust, his cock sliding so heavily that Taylor choked on his moan. It’d stretch him so wide open.
“Yeah, babe,” Nate whispered, his voice dropping a pitch. “Strip for me.”
Taylor didn’t have to be asked twice. The pants and panties came off. Then the shirt, and the holster strapped to his hip. That, Taylor shoved under the pillows. And now he was completely bare, his legs spreading of their own accord, his cock leaking onto his belly.
“Hurry up,” Taylor muttered.
Nate’s eyes glinted. “I have ulterior motives, you know.”
Taylor swore. “Just get something inside me.”
He reached down, grasping his cheeks, spreading them to show Nate his damp hole. Nate cursed; his breath hitched, his bulge jerking.
He reached into his own pants—stretched to bursting—and eased out his cock. It jutted up, flushed and hungry, desperately seeking out Taylor’s hole. Taylor’s body ached with longing. Except Nate denied him.
Instead, Nate emptied a box of condoms onto the bed—all the squares had been separated beforehand.
Taylor raised his eyebrows. “You were prepared for this.”
Nate grinned, ripping open a foil packet. “Never hurts to be prepared. Especially when I want to make my omega happy.”
He grabbed three of the slender pickles, rolling a condom down over them. Then he fitted their covered ends against Taylor’s hole and pushed them halfway in—no warning at all.
Taylor stretched around them, biting his lip at the cool invasion inside his body. “That’s all?”
“Hardly.” Still holding onto the wrapped pickles, Nate fitted another two into the middle of the bunch—causing Taylor to stretch further. Then he added more slender pickles, and more, until Taylor thought he might be stretched to the width of Nate’s cock. And Nate pushed his fingers into the midst of the pickles, opening Taylor even further. Taylor groaned, throbbing. “Get in deeper, damn it!”
Nate leaked. He slid the pickles a little deeper into Taylor, before pulling them out, leaving Taylor’s hole empty. “Fuck, Tay. You’re so beautiful all open for me like that.”
Nate rubbed his thumb over Taylor’s stretched entrance, dipping his fingertip inside—just enough to tickle. Taylor writhed.
“Fuck me,” he hissed, pumping his own cock. “Are you throwing away the pickles when we’re done?”
Nate tore open another foil packet. “Should I?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll see.” Nate licked his lips, rolling the next condom over a pickled hardboiled egg. Then he fitted its bouncy, round tip against Taylor’s hole, and pushed.
It felt like he was taking Nate’s tip. The egg stretched Taylor’s hole and slid inside—it was round and firm, small with no alpha attached.
“Squeeze it out,” Nate rasped, licking his lips.
Taylor flushed. “What, like a chicken?”
“Or a dragon.” Nate winked. “Those lay eggs, too.”
“I thought I read about a dragon’s live birth,” Taylor muttered. “There were sentient shopping carts in that book.”
He tried squeezing, though. The more he pushed against the egg, the more aware he was of it inside his body, his hole relaxing, trying to eject that presence.
“Fuck, Tay,” Nate hissed, his gaze raking over Taylor’s hole. “When you do that, your hole pushes out like it’s begging me to fill it.” Nate slid his thighs under Taylor’s hips, propping him up, spreading him open for a better view.
Warmth crept up Taylor’s throat. He pushed again. And Nate fitted his fingers into the condom, following it into Taylor’s body. He pushed the egg deeper inside, all the way until his knuckles bumped Taylor’s hole. Then he withdrew his fingers, tugging on the condom, sliding the egg back out toward Taylor’s hole, until it nudged against the inside of Taylor’s entrance.
“You look so debauched like this,” Nate whispered, rubbing his thumb over the seemingly-empty condom dangling out of Taylor. “Like you’ve been filled up inside.”
And he pushed his fingers back in, nudging the egg deeper, before pulling it out again. Over and over, Nate massaged Taylor with the egg, until Taylor writhed, his balls heavy with come.
“Get on with it,” Taylor hissed.
Nate pulled out his fingers and eased a second egg into the condom. Then he squeezed it against Taylor’s hole, and Taylor stretched, taking it into his body.
Somehow, the eggs felt good inside him. Taylor gritted his teeth, moaning—he felt full inside. “What’re you doing?” he hissed.
“Need to come, babe?” Nate’s knowing smile grated on his nerves.
“So what if I do?” Taylor growled.
“Just one more.” Nate unrolled more of the condom, sliding a third egg in. Then he pushed it through Taylor’s hole, forcing the other eggs deeper.
Taylor bit his lip, slick trickling out of him. He needed more inside, he needed Nate’s cock plowing deep. That, or a thick pickle. Except Nate seemed hell-bent on teasing him first.
Nate slipped his fingers into Taylor’s body, nudging the eggs even deeper. Then he found Taylor’s prostate and pushed down hard. Taylor jerked, hissing.
“More, babe?” Nate smiled. And he worked his fingers against that sensitive spot, sending another jolt through Taylor’s body. And another. Until the tension snapped inside Taylor, and pleasure sluiced through him, come squirting all over his abdomen.
Nate cursed, his pupils blowing wide. He pinned Taylor, doubling down on his massage. “You make me so hard, I fucking hurt,” Nate whispered, sucking the come off Taylor’s belly. He pushed a third finger in. And he ground them viciously against Taylor’s prostate, so another release rocked through Taylor, ripping a cry from his throat.
Taylor thought Nate might let him off. Instead, Nate held him down, a desperate, ravenous glint in his eye. And he crammed his fingers into Taylor, shoving them against that spot, over and over until Taylor thrashed, trying to breathe through the pleasure, his body so sensitive that it didn’t take much for him to come again. And again. The entire time, the eggs sat inside him, cool, round weights.
“I love how you keep coming,” Nate rasped, sucking the come off Taylor’s tip, his mouth wet and hot. Then he massaged another orgasm into Taylor. Taylor bucked, his limbs flailing.
Maybe he kicked something—he wasn’t sure.
By the time the pleasure subsided and Taylor could think again, he found Nate sitting up, looking around.
“Thought I had the jar lid next to me.” Nate frowned. “But I don’t see it.”
Taylor rolled onto his front, peering over the edge of the bed. The pickles had scattered across the floor—save for the eggs still inside his body. Those, Nate held onto with the end of the condom twisted around his finger.
“Maybe the lid went under the bed?” Taylor asked, squirming forward to squint at that shadowy space. “Looks like it might not be there.”
“It went under the bed,” said a disembodied, tinny voice.
They both froze. Nate shot Taylor a look: You take that gun.
“Who’s there?” Nate growled.
“It’s under the bed,” the voice said impatiently. It was low, raspy, and familiar. “Get on with it, Nate.”
And suddenly it was only too obvious who their mystery spy was.
Nate sighed, rubbing his face. “Why the fuck are you spying on us, Phinny?”
Innocently, “Why would you think it’s me?”
Oh, gods. Taylor groaned, flopping back onto the bed. This entire time… Phinny had been watching Nate put eggs into his body? Taylor didn’t know if he was more mortified about the eggs, or him completely missing the spying devices, or that Phinny had seen how much he’d liked having those eggs up his ass.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Taylor muttered.
“Nothing,” Phinny answered. “You left the lights on in your pantry, by the way.”
Nate wore a look of utmost exasperation. “Go spy on someone else. You weren’t invited to this.”
“I wanted to see if you’re making a baby! Go on, make another.”
Taylor’s face burned so hot, he wanted pry out the cameras and crush them. Or fling them at Phinny’s head.
Nate smirked, though. “If we make a baby, you’ll be the first to know about it.”
Then he reached past the bed and grabbed another two pickles from the jar. Taylor groaned. “You should’ve washed your hands before you did that.”
Nate just laughed. “I guess we’re not eating from that jar, then.”
“I guess we’re not eating ANY pickles of yours,” Phinny told them primly.
Taylor heaved a sigh. Nate rubbed his thigh to console him. And he said loudly, “You know what’ll make Phinny stop watching? It’s when I make you feel so good that he gets jealous.”
“I’m not going to get jealous—”
Nate leaned in, kissing Taylor deeply. It was one of those kisses that brought Taylor out of the present, Nate’s tongue soft against his own, surging into his mouth, so demanding that Taylor’s attention anchored onto his alpha’s need, Nate’s cock pushing hungrily against his belly.
There was still a lot of come that Nate hadn’t filled him with, yet. Taylor moaned, reaching down to stroke his alpha’s cock. Nate hissed and thrust hard into his fist, leaking onto his fingers. Just like how he would inside. That wiped all of Taylor’s thoughts, leaving his hole aching, his alpha at the center of his world.
“More,” Taylor hissed.
“Yeah? You like it when I fill you up with cock?” Nate breathed, rolling his hips so seductively that Taylor wondered why the hell he wasn’t inside yet.
“Get in,” Taylor muttered.
“Only if you lay those eggs for me.” Nate kissed his jaw; his fingers dipped between Taylor’s cheeks, stroking his entrance. “Push ‘em out.”
His cheeks scorching, Taylor focused on the eggs inside him. He pushed and relaxed, moaning when Nate rubbed callused fingertips over his hole.
“Fuck,” Nate breathed, slipping a finger inside. “Keep pushing. It feels like you’re kissing me with this.”
Taylor pushed. It felt strange, doing that with Nate’s finger inside him. Then the first egg reached his entrance and opened it. Nate’s breathing deepened.
“This is what you feel like when you stretch around me,” Nate growled, sliding his fingertips around Taylor’s muscle. “Except I’m bigger.”
Fuck, yes, Nate was bigger. “So why won’t you get in already?” Taylor growled.
“Because you like these pickles.” Nate grinned. “You want one inside you, Tay. I noticed.”
Taylor hated that he was blushing. “I do not.”
“Sure.” Nate smiled, kissing the corner of his lips. Then the first egg slipped out of Taylor, and Nate yanked on the condom, until the next egg pressed up against his hole, ready to be laid. Fuck, it was depraved, having Nate slide those eggs around inside him.
“I’m not a bird,” Taylor muttered.
“But it feels good when you stretch, doesn’t it?” Nate cupped Taylor’s cheeks, squeezing them, spreading them to expose Taylor’s hole even more. Then he leaned in, kissing the inside of Taylor’s thighs, pressing sucking kisses to the sensitive skin there—a soft, wet pressure that went all the way to Taylor’s balls. “Next one, Tay. Two more.”
Taylor groaned, pushing again. This time, the egg came out more easily, falling into Nate’s cupped palm.
Nate groaned. “I love how these eggs leave you all stretched open for me. I can’t wait to slide in, Tay. Can’t wait to open you with my cock.”
Taylor shivered, blood swooping between his legs. Nate twisted the end of the condom around his fingers. And he tugged, pulling the last egg out of Taylor’s ass, forcing Taylor’s hole to stretch around it. Taylor bit back his moan. Having Nate open him—that was decadent and amazing, any way he could have it.
“Fuck,” Nate breathed, palming his cock. His hands trembled when he tore open a third foil packet. Then he rolled that condom over a large pickle, and there was no warning, either, when he fitted its blunt end against Taylor’s hole, sinking it halfway in.
Taylor opened around the pickle, his breath punching out of him. “Gods, you don’t fuck around.”
“Do I ever?” Nate’s smile saturated his voice. “Get on all fours.”
His pulse beating between his legs, Taylor complied. As he moved, the bumps of the pickle stroked inside him, lighting up his nerves wherever they touched. Nate twisted the end of the condom around his fingers. Then he plunged the rest of the pickle into Taylor, every single inch, until Taylor’s hole closed over it.
Taylor wheezed, his cock shoving up, entirely interested.
“Fuck,” Nate whispered. “You like it even more than that first time.”
“Get on with it,” Taylor hissed.
Nate growled, grabbing the other pickle. And he crowded close, nudging that pickle against Taylor’s lips. “Suck on me, babe.”
It wasn’t Nate. Taylor obeyed anyway, closing his mouth around the pickle’s thick, vinegary tip. Pretending it was his alpha. And Nate withdrew the pickle inside his ass, before shoving it back in, at the same time he pushed the other pickle into Taylor’s mouth. Taylor could’ve groaned—this, too, was depraved, but his body throbbed harder with need. It was something special when he did it with his alpha.
“Fuck, it’s so hot watching you take these,” Nate rasped, grinding his own erection against Taylor’s hip.
Before Taylor could answer, Nate changed the angle of the pickle inside him—it mashed against his prostate, sending a spike of bliss through his veins. Taylor forgot to breathe. “F-Fuck!”
“Yeah?” Nate growled. “Feels better than my cock?”
“No!”
“Well, too bad. That’s all you’re going to get.”
Taylor tried to whirl around on him—Nate was too close, though. And the pickle slid deeper into his ass.
Nate’s appreciation intensified; he pulled the pickle out of Taylor, shoving him bodily against the mattress the next second.
Taylor fought against him; Nate dropped the pickles to focus on restraining Taylor, his eyes darkening when Taylor struggled like a wildcat. Their bodies ground together, all skin and friction. And Taylor shoved down Nate’s pants, freeing his cock completely.
“Try harder,” Taylor said, grinning. “You’re not holding me down real well.”
“I don’t know—I don’t want you to break my nose.” Nate laughed. “Blood is harder to get out of the sheets.”
Then he pinned Taylor, knocked apart his legs, and pushed the condom-wrapped pickle between Taylor’s cheeks, forcing them to spread around its width. Taylor throbbed; the moment Nate found his hole, he shoved the pickle in again, starting a rough rhythm with it.
Taylor’s spine arched; he clawed lines down Nate’s arms.
Nate grinned. “Gonna wear those like a war scar.”
“I’ll give you more if you want them,” Taylor hissed.
“Maybe.” Nate leaned in, pressing a deep kiss to Taylor’s mouth. He claimed Taylor with his tongue. Then he sat back, working two fingers in next to Taylor’s ass-pickle, forcing him to stretch further. Taylor bit down his moan.
Except he couldn’t, when Nate pushed the pickle deeper, massaging his prostate with it. He was so close.
“How does that feel?” Nate whispered, meeting his eyes. And he sank that hard length in, bringing Taylor over the edge.
Taylor came with a snarl, his entire body writhing, his hole clenching. “I don’t know if I’m depraved,” he panted through his pleasure. “It’s a damn pickle.”
“It’s a hard pickle.” Nate groaned. And he pushed it deep, his hunger growing more intent as the pickle disappeared into Taylor. “Gods, you’re gorgeous.”
Nate continued to tease him, sliding the pickle in and out, shallow thrusts to keep Taylor open for him. Then he pumped himself, his precome trickling down his fingers, smearing over Taylor’s thigh.
Taylor flushed. “This must be what your team’s omegas feel like, huh? Bewildered and horny at the same time.”
Nate’s mouth curved into a dark, ravenous smile. “It’s fine if a pickle gets you hot, Tay. You’re still perfect.”
“Maybe.”
Taylor watched as Nate eased another two fingers into him, stretching him further. Then he pulled everything out and replaced them with his cock, and he stretched Taylor open all the way inside, sending his voice high.
“Yeah, do that again,” Nate rasped, burying every single inch of his cock. “Sing for me, Tay.”
“I’m not—not singing,” Taylor gasped. Nate thrust in, hitting all the right spots. Taylor cried out again, writhing, his hole leaking so much that Nate swore and plowed deeper, so forcefully that Taylor slid across the sheets, trying to hold on.
Nate pinned him down. He began a hard rhythm, driving into Taylor over and over, his cock such a glorious presence that Taylor’s eyes rolled back into his head, his own cock shoving upright, eager for more.
Nate pulled out halfway. And he began easing his fingers into Taylor alongside his cock—first two fingers, then four. And Taylor felt so stretched open, he wasn’t sure his body would hold together.
“What’re you doing?” he panted.
Nate smiled, pulling out. Then he slid the pickle into Taylor, and ever so slowly, he added his cock, stretching Taylor impossibly wide, Nate’s thickness grinding the pickle against his prostate.
Taylor came again, choking on his moan. He wasn’t sure he could come any more, when Nate had already wrung so many orgasms out of him. Except Nate turned Taylor onto his side, easing his cock against Taylor’s prostate, rocking deeply against it. Taylor shuddered.
“How does it feel to be double-penetrated with a pickle?” Nate grinned, his breathing uneven.
“Don’t make that the benchmark, or you’ll need a pickle every time,” Taylor hissed.
“We have more than enough.” Nate slid in again; Taylor tried to breathe. “We can fit more than one, can’t we?”
“Oh gods, don’t.” Taylor covered his face. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“I don’t know, we could try that when we get you pregnant again.” Nate looked thoughtful. “Help prep you for the birth, but with pickles.”
“That’s not what pickles are for,” Taylor gasped.
Then Nate pulled out the pickle so it was just him inside Taylor, and he pinned Taylor down against the mattress, looking deep into his eyes. With every thrust, it was all Nate inside him—Taylor’s alpha staking his claim, deep, hard thrusts that made Taylor’s insides grow molten hot.
“Can’t claim you this hard with a pickle inside,” Nate panted, his gaze possessive. He plowed into Taylor again. “But I can keep it up with my knot later. Push it in and out.”
Taylor groaned, his body more than ready. “Harder.”
“As you wish,” Nate hissed. And he slammed in—ruthless thrusts that pulled Taylor’s balls so tight, he hung onto his alpha for dear life.
Nate leaned in, his lips brushing Taylor’s ear. “I love you,” he rasped.
That triggered something in Taylor that he couldn’t explain; pleasure crashed through him, tensing up his entire body. And Nate came with a roar, pulsing, filling Taylor with his seed.
Nate’s strokes grew gentler; he slid out a little ways, rocking back in, keeping Taylor stretched with his growing knot. Then, when his knot was full, Nate pushed it back inside, pulling it out, growling as he watched Taylor open around him.
“Still gorgeous,” Nate breathed, pushing his knot against Taylor’s prostate, massaging him there until he came again.
In the middle of Taylor’s release, Nate bit him—on his shoulder this time, breaking skin, leaving another marking that told the world Taylor was completely his. That sent a surge of belonging through Taylor, filling his entire chest.
For a while, they drifted together, Nate rolling Taylor on top of himself. Taylor panted, trying to regain his breath. His entire body felt like it had been wrung out, his legs soft as jelly. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the forgotten pickles on the floor.
“That was some pickle we were in,” he muttered.
“That was some pickle inside you,” Nate answered with a sleepy grin. “Still feeling awkward about your newfound kink?”
“Well… kind of.” Taylor winced. “Pickles are for eating.”
“Next time we have a team dinner with the firefighters, talk to their omegas about it,” Nate murmured, wrapping his arms tight around Taylor. “You’ll see that we’re not the only ones.”
Taylor had never really believed that the firefighters truly had kinks like that—honey, really?—but maybe, now that this odd kink of his was here to stay… maybe he’d find some like-minded friends. Maybe he and Nate weren’t quite so depraved, after all.
“Aww, how sweet,” Phinny’s voice floated over.
Nate flipped him off. Taylor pulled a pillow over their heads. Later, when he had more strength in his legs, he’d hunt down the cameras and mics in this room. Maybe they’d give Phinny some payback, too.
For now, he was going to ignore that bird of a man, and enjoy Nate’s knotting. Nate had given Taylor the greatest gift of all—himself. And Taylor was sure as hell going to savor every moment of it.
–
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