"I am," Sol said, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. "But I warn you... once you taste my cooking, you might not want anyone else’s."
Evara laughed, a low, throaty sound. She shifted closer, her breast pressing against his arm.
"Is that a threat, little Sol?" she teased, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Or a promise?"
Then, with a sudden shift, she pulled back, her expression breaking into sothing lighter, almost teasing. She gestured toward the slab of at resting on a stone platter near the fire. It was a fine cut... thick, marbled with fat, the kind of thigh at taken from a herbivore that promised both strength and flavor.
Her smile widened, half challenge, half invitation. "Well? Show if you can ta it."
"Both," Sol replied, his voice dropping to match hers. he didn’t know if she knew what she is doing, or not, but he didn’t care and didn’t back away from her invasion; he leaned into it, his nose grazing her jawline, inhaling that maddening floral scent.
"A man needs to eat... but a man also enjoys seeing a woman satisfied."
Evara let out a breathy laugh, the sound rippling against his chest. "Then feed , Sol. Show what you can do."
She pulled back just enough to let him move, but her eyes never left his face. They were heavy-lidded, dilated, swimming with a mix of curiosity and a hunger that had very little to do with the at he was cooking.
Sol cleared his throat, forcing his brain to switch gears from ’ravage’ to ’roast.’ He moved toward the central firepit, kneeling on the woven mat. Evara followed him, not walking, but crawling on her hands and knees across the furs like a large, lazy cat... or maybe like a predator stalking her prey. The movent caused the neckline of her loose wrap to gape further, giving Sol a front-row seat to the heavy sway of her unbound breasts.
He gritted his teeth, focusing on the stone platter.
He had decided not to bring the chilies. It was too risky to introduce the "poison" here privately without setting the stage first. If he wanted to change the tribe’s perception, he needed a public spectacle at the stall. Here, he would rely on technique... and charm.
"Fire," he commanded softly.
He stoked the embers, adding small twigs until the flas licked high. He placed a flat cooking stone over the heat.
"Watch closely," Sol murmured. "This is how you treat good at.
He took the slab of herbivore thigh. Instead of hacking it apart, he used the bone knife to slice it with long, smooth strokes against the grain. Evara settled beside him, her hip pressing into his kidney, her chin resting on his shoulder. Her hot breath fanned against his ear as she watched his hands work.
"You have... very skillful fingers," she whispered, her hand sliding up his arm, tracing the veins.
Sol’s hand slipped, nearly slicing his thumb. "Technique is everything, the secret isn’t just the fire. It’s how you handle the flesh. Most people just hack it apart like they’re still killing it. You have to respect it to fully enjoy."
He placed the strips of fat he had trimd onto the hot stone. They sizzled instantly, spitting hot grease. The sll of rendering fat filled the small hut, rich and savory.
"You have to let the stone heat up first," he instructed, his voice thick. "If you rush it, the at sticks. You have to be patient. Wait for the right mont."
Evara humd, a low vibration that went straight to Sol’s groin, leaning her chin on his shoulder to get a better look. Her breath was hot against his ear, slling of sweet berries. "Patience," she echoed softly. "I can be patient... if the reward is worth it. And it really slls... different. Better."
"It will be," he promised. And that’s the flavor being released," he further explained, though his mind was foggy due to heat. He tossed the at onto the stone.
"You have to let it cook slowly," Sol said, his voice thick. "You can’t rush it. You have to let the juices flow naturally."
Sizzle.
The hut ward up rapidly. Between the fire and Evara’s body heat, Sol felt sweat trickling down his spine, and the heat from fire was definitely not the reason. He focused on the at, searing it quickly to keep it tender.
Evara humd, leaning her chin on his shoulder, her breath hot against his ear. "Is that so? I always thought you just... shoved it in the fire."
"No," Sol corrected, tossing the at onto the stone. Sizzle. "If you shove it in too fast, you ruin the texture. You have to be gentle. Firm, but gentle."
Sizzle
The sound filled the silence in the hut. Sol worked quickly, flipping the pieces just as they browned, ensuring they didn’t overcook. He explained every step...the searing to lock in juices, the resting period to let the at relax. Evara listened intently, or at least pretended to, her eyes tracing the movent of his hands, the flex of his forearms.
"Now," Sol said, picking up a perfectly seared piece with the tip of his knife. The fat glistened in the firelight. He blew on it gently to cool it down. "Taste."
He turned to her. Evara didn’t use her hands. She leaned forward, opening her mouth, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips. She took the at directly from the knife, her lips brushing the cold stone blade, her eyes locked on his.
She chewed slowly.
Her reaction was imdiate. Her eyes rolled back, her head falling onto his shoulder.
"Mmmmnn..."
It wasn’t just a hum of appreciation;It was a sound of pure, gluttonous ecstasy...a moan that started deep in her throat and vibrated through her entire body.
"So juicy," she moaned, swallowing. She licked the grease from her lips, looking at him "It practically lts in my mouth. Oh, Sol... you really are blessed by spirits. I’ve never tasted anything this rich. It’s like... like eating a cloud of at."
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