(the gif that inspired this entire story)

“Morgan, no!” Catalina yelled from across the kitchen, as Morgan prepared to drop what seemed like a handful of salt in the arroz con pollo on the stove. “I said a pinch, not the entire bottle!”

He hurriedly put most of the salt back in the shaker, loathe to imagine what would have happened if she hadn’t caught him in time. It’d been a month since he first started private cooking lessons and it had become something he eagerly looked forward to, even if he wasn’t always a star pupil. Catalina was patient with him, developing recipes that worked with his diet (although she did teach him how to make coconut macaroons and cookies one afternoon), and making sure that he was actually going to be able to replicate the dish after she left. It didn’t hurt that she was also easy on the eyes.

Catalina was Morgan’s opposite in almost every way. She was all soft edges, with an ass that had occupied Morgan’s thoughts on more than one lonely night. Her jet black curls fell to just above her shoulders, bouncing happily as she moved around the kitchen, trying to ensure that nothing was burning. Returning to Morgan’s side, she watched him like a hawk as he began to layer the pastelon according to her instructions. “Plantain, filling, cheese, plantain, filling, cheese” had been drilled in his head, and he carefully arranged each layer as Catalina had shown him.

This week more than most, Morgan didn’t want to disappoint her because she had finally agreed to teach him how to cook dishes from her native Puerto Rico so that he could invite some of the younger players over for a decent meal. Ever since he found out that she had been born and raised on the small island, he had bothered her almost non-stop to introduce him to the food of her childhood, until she caved and said yes.

Even though she resisted at first, Catalina was immensely flattered that he had been so interested. She rarely talked about her homeland because it made her homesick, but she found herself spilling her heart to Morgan about her youth, her family, and how she ended up teaching cooking classes in the middle of Toronto, a far cry from the sunny shores of Puerto Rico. Usually her clients expressed no interest in learning about her, much less about the foods that she loved, and she expected someone of Morgan’s fame and fortune to be no different. But he proved her wrong, and she couldn’t have been more appreciative of that.

“Cat, is this right?” Morgan broke Catalina out of her reflection, using his nickname for her.

She glanced down at his neatly arranged pastelon, the top layer of plantains covered by a light layer of cheese. “Yes, perfect. You can put it in the oven now, to finish cooking. And you can also pull out the flan while you’re doing that.”

He obeyed her instructions, setting the flan, still in its water bath, on the stovetop. “What do I do with the ban-Mary?”

Catalina stifled a laugh at his terrible attempt at French pronunciation. “The bain-marie? You remove the flan from it, and then dump the water into the sink.”

He did as she said, before looking back to her for guidance. “Now what?”

“Now, we wait for the pastelon to finish cooking and for the flan to cool. And we sample the arroz con pollo to make sure it tastes okay.”

Morgan pulled two forks from the drawer, handing one to her. Opening the lid of the pot, they happily tasted the results of their work. “So what do you think?” Catalina asked, as Morgan reopened the lid to sneak out a second forkful.

“It’s amazing,” he responded, his voice dripping with sincerity. Suddenly his nerves about cooking kicked in, and he found himself second guessing it. “Wait, what do you think? Did I do it right? It is your dish after all.”

Catalina put her hand over his, stopping his nervous rambling. “Morgan, it’s fantastic, you did an amazing job. It tastes like home.” The words were barely out of her mouth when she felt Morgan’s lips against hers. Despite the force in his actions, his lips were soft and gentle against hers, and Catalina found herself responding almost instinctively.

Morgan suddenly broke away, taking a few steps backwards across the kitchen, trying his best to put distance between them. What the hell was he thinking? She probably wasn’t into him and he had just forced himself upon her like an absolute ass. And yet she didn’t look mad. He might not have known her for a long time, but he knew her well enough to know that she had a fiery streak a mile wide and would have let him know if she was pissed off. And yet, she still stood on the other side of the kitchen, waiting for him to say something. “Wait, why aren’t you mad?” he asked hesitantly.

She strode over to him, standing on her tiptoes so that they were practically eye to eye. “You boys are so thick sometimes. Do you really think I spend six hours teaching all of my clients how to make Puerto Rican food? Do you really think I have long heart-to-heart conversations with the other people I work with? I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for a while now, but I figured you were either uninterested or absolutely clueless.” This time, she kissed him, using the collar of his polo to bring his face down to hers.

Maneuvering their way into the living room, Morgan eventually fell back onto the couch, pulling her on top of him. They quickly shed their clothes in between heated kisses, as Catalina began to swivel her hips on Morgan thigh, her body instinctively responding to the arousal coursing through her veins. As she unclasped her bra, tossing it over the couch, Morgan reached to remove her panties and eliminate the last bit of fabric covering her body, when she suddenly pulled away. “Morgan, the pastelon!” She scampered to the kitchen, grabbing oven mitts and pulling the bubbling dish from the oven. Setting it on a ceramic tile and turning off the oven, she breathed a sigh of relief at the golden color of the top layer, a sure sign that it hadn’t burned.

When she heard a muted chuckle behind her, she whirled around to see a naked Morgan standing in the doorway, laughing at her. “Apparently I’m not good enough to distract you from food, eh?”

“Oy! I’m a chef, nothing can distract me from my food.” Her voice became more sultry as she removed the oven mitts and walked towards Morgan, hips swinging from side to side. “But I promise there’ll be no more distractions, and we can focus on….bigger issues.” Her chest pressed against his, she reached between them to grab his hard cock, running her fingers experimentally over every inch of the soft skin. She could feel him shudder against her, only urging her onwards.

When his mind finally turned back on, Morgan tugged her panties down her legs as she kicked them off. Leaning up, she kissed him again as she continued to stroke his cock in slow, calm movements, leaving Morgan breathing hard against her mouth. “You’re fucking killing me, Cat,” he murmured, one of his hands coming down to cup her ass, forcing her to push further into him.

Spinning them around, he pushed her back against the wall, his second hand sliding down the front of her body, finally coming down to cup her mound. When his finger began to toy with her clit, his mouth came down on her breast, nipping at the tender flesh, drawing out a low moan from her. Catalina’s entire body ached with desire, a fire building in her abdomen, stoked by every move Morgan made against her.

She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach, just north of where she so desperately wanted him. In an attempt to urge him on and speed up the pace, she hooked one leg over his hip, bringing her cunt to rub against him, but he simply smiled against her skin, continuing to trace his lips over her chest. When he reached a hand between them to press his cock against her cunt, sliding it along her folds, she finally reached her breaking point. “Morgan, please.”

Morgan didn’t need to be asked twice. Guiding his cock into her, he slammed into her, deep and fast. With one hand on her hip, and the other braced against the wall, he pressed further into her, forcing out a high-pitched whine from her lips that was perhaps the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. “God, yes, Morgan, right there. Yes, yes, yes—“ she whimpered, her body shaking against his.

“Fuck, fffuck!” Morgan groaned, leaning his forehead against Catalina’s as he came with a low grunt, which she muffled by capturing his lips with hers. They stayed like that for a minute, chests heaving, bodies pressed against each other.

Slowly, Catalina unhooked her leg from Morgan’s body, letting it return to the floor, leaning back against the wall to regain her sense of balance. Morgan did the same on the wall opposite her, subtly admiring the way she looked post-orgasm, her honeyed skin practically glowing and her wild curls framing her face. Before he could lose himself too much in his thoughts, Catalina began to move, gathering her clothes and beginning to get dressed. “Wait, where are you going?” he asked hesitantly, afraid that their relationship had irrecoverably changed for the worse.

Smiling at him, she continued to dress as she responded, “Your teammates are scheduled to come over in 30 minutes. I figured I should probably get out before then. But text me afterwards to let me know how they like it.”

“Why don’t you just stay?”

“Morgan, I probably look like, well, I just got fucked. Not that I’m complaining at all, but I also don’t want to look this disheveled meeting your friends.”

The caveman part of his brain said that it might be a good thing for his teammates to see her looking like this, so they wouldn’t even think of trying anything with her, but he also knew that voicing those thoughts would not lead to anything good. So he came up with an alternative solution. “Then shower here. I have a guest bathroom and spare towels that you can use.”

She let out a huff, knowing she was beat. “Okay, fine. But please don’t tell them that I’ve been teaching you to cook; I want them to think you did it yourself, because, apart from a little guidance, this was all you.”

He nodded his agreement before showing her to the spare bathroom. When she got out, she wandered into the kitchen where Morgan was reheating the dishes as she had shown him. Three young men were watching him intently, but their eyes immediately went to Catalina when she entered the room. “Ummm...hi,” she mumbled, a little nervous.

Morgan jumped in, slipping his arm around her waist. “Catalina, this is Mitch, Auston, and William. Guys, this is Catalina.” A chorus of “hi’s” greeted her as she busied herself helping Morgan get everything ready.

Dinner ended up being a massive success. For Catalina, being around the guys reminded her of her brothers back home, especially when Auston decided to take the opportunity to practice his Spanish on her, giving her an opportunity to speak her first language.

Despite her best attempts to make Morgan take all the credit, the boys were not sold on the story and quickly figured out that Catalina was the brains behind the meal, at which point, they practically begged her to teach them how to cook too. “But not the same kind of lessons you've been giving Morgan,” Mitch added sneakily, a spoonful of flan halfway to his mouth.

Morgan and Catalina glanced at each other, quickly averting their eyes, a hot blush rising in their cheeks. “Oh my god, you guys thought you were subtle!” Auston almost tipped out of his chair laughing at the guilty look on Morgan’s face.

Morgan stammered out a response, which only caused his teammates to have a few more laughs at his expense. “Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here soon and you can resume your cooking lessons,” Mitch teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Morgan.

True to their word, the boys polished off their dessert, helped to clean the table and load the dishwasher, and then headed out into the night, but not before throwing a few more not-so-subtle innuendos in Morgan’s direction. When the door finally shut behind them, Morgan let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry about them, they can be a bit rowdy at times.”

Catalina interlaced her fingers with his. “I didn’t mind. I have four brothers, remember? This was nothing compared to them..” She used her free hand to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer, craving his nearness. He lowered his face, brushing his lips against hers once, twice, three times before finally settling against them. Catalina pulled away from him, her lips plump and reddened. “Just for the record, though, I’m very glad that they didn’t stay too much longer, because hearing you talk about cooking dinner was hands-down the hottest thing I’ve heard in my life. And I could barely keep my hands to myself for a minute longer.”

“So me talking about cooking is what it takes to you going?”

“Mmhmm,” she purred, her nimble fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his polo.

“So then this is probably the time to admit that listening to you speak Spanish to Auston was the hottest thing that I’ve ever heard in my life.” His hands went to the waistband of her jeans, beginning to work it off her hips.

“No tengo ropa interior puesta,” she replied, as he let out a moan at the words flowing off her tongue. For his benefit, she clarified, “I’m not wearing underwear. Turns out, mine were a little too ruined to justify putting them back on after my shower.”

Morgan groaned with the realization that she’d sat through all of dinner without her panties, now even more eager to push her tight jeans off her body and to feel the warm welcome of her pussy around his cock once again. He dropped to his knees in front of her, as the denim fell to the floor. When she begged him to skip foreplay and fuck her (even throwing in some Spanish to help convince him), he gave her a sideways smirk and ignored her, licking a broad stripe across her slit. “The flan was great, but I’m in the mood for a different kind of dessert.”

Notes

This is the full video of Morgan trying to cook, and as someone who spends a lot of time in the kitchen, I feel a deep need to save him from himself.

If you want to know how much I love Morgan Rielly, just know that my mother refers to him as her future son-in-law. Also, my best friend in college was Puerto Rican and so I thought of her and her mom's cooking when I wrote this. (And I also ate an entire flan for inspiration. Or because I'm greedy. But "for inspiration" sounds like a much better reason.)

Anyways, I am now (mostly) concussion free and so hopefully I will be finishing some stories that have been sitting half-done on my computer for a while, assuming life cooperates and gives me some free time.