Prompt #42: You can have seconds, if you want.

            She swiped his dinner plate away and placed his dessert on the table. The slice of cake was bedecked in whipped cream nearly up to his nose. Sprinkles dyed blue spots on the frosting. The scent of chocolate and strawberries filled his lungs.

            He held out his hand and she slapped a spoon in it on the way to her seat. She smiled at him from across the table, her own spoon at the ready. His mouth formed one, two, three and then, “Go,” out loud.

            They dug their spoons into the whipped cream, the metal breaking through it like a ship through water. They stuck the spoons between their lips, both of them closing their eyes as the taste formed to the roofs of their mouths. Her grin was especially big.

            “Now for the real heart of the dish, hmmm?” He scooped up a bite of cake. He held it up in the air, a mock toast.

            She watched as he chewed and swallowed. The cake made a bulge in his throat as it slid down. Her own jaws worked methodically, her tongue not really tasting.

            “How do you like it?” She asked, just as the last bump disappeared out of sight.

            “Phenomenal, dear.” His tongue came out and caught the crumbs lingering on his teeth.

            She stood and her chair scraped back against the floor. “Great, so you’ll have another?”

            “Oh, I don’t know if I could manage anymore.” He leaned back in his chair.

            “Of course you can.” She leaned over his shoulder and plopped another slice down on his plate. Her lips pressed against the side of his forehead before she was off again, sitting down to finish the other half of her piece.

            Her eyes followed his hand as it scratched his arm before scooping up another bite of cake. He chewed much more slowly and all of her dessert was gone before he was even close to finishing. She placed her chin in her palm, a lazy smile taking root on her face. “Take your time, honey.”

            “Phenomenal,” he whispered before sticking the spoon in his mouth once more.

His hand traveled back and forth from the plate to his mouth, his movements becoming hypnotic. The clatter of his spoon hitting the glass made her jerk. He pushed his plate away and leaned back. His fingers drummed lightly against his stomach. His eyelids sagged.

            “Another slice, sweetie?”

            “No, no, I’ve had it. Couldn’t take another bite.” He slumped lower in his chair.

            She picked up their plates and dumped them in the sink. “Why don’t you go watch TV while I finish up the dishes?”

            “Wonderful idea.” The sound of voices erupted in the other room.

            She hummed as she dragged her dishcloth across each plate, leaving behind a trail clean of crumbs and sauce. She stacked each one carefully into the dish drainer. Then she wiped down the counters and put the remainder of the cake in the fridge.

            Shuffling into the living room, she stared at her husband, highlighted by the glow of the TV, as he idly scratched his face. “I’m going to hit the hay.”

            He pushed himself up by the arms of his chair. “I’ll come with you.”

            She smiled and headed for their bedroom. They undressed and kissed each other before climbing onto their respective sides of the bed. She leaned over and switched on her lamp, opening the book to her marker. Her eyes landed on the page but didn’t move. She waited.

            He tossed and turned. His feet bumped her as they rubbed his legs. A long scratch appeared on his face. Finally, he sat up, the light spraying across the red bumps on his skin.

            “Honey, I’m itching horribly.”

            She turned the page. “It’s probably because of the cinnamon I put in the cake.”

            “Cinnamon. You know I’m allergic to cinnamon!”

            She snapped the book shut and placed it on her nightstand, then turned to face him. “The next time you want to tell one of your buddies you think I’m fat, make sure his wife isn’t one of my friends.”

            She snapped off the night, adjusted her pillows, and lay down. In seconds her breathing was soft and slow.

            In the middle of the night, she sat up and glanced over at her spouse. He rolled over uneasily, but stayed asleep. She threw back the covers and crept into the kitchen for another piece of cake.