He was laughing by the time he finished, and his good humor eased to arousal when she pulled him down for a kiss; he had already been hovering on the edges of it, and having her initiate the move from playful to sensual made it that much better. As she went to work on his belt, he ran his thumbs lightly under her own waistband. Still, he jumped when she reached into his trousers, not expecting her to get that far ahead that quickly.
Nor did he expect a bag of flour to be running down his legs a moment later. Breaking off the kiss, he stared at her for a second, completely shocked. "So, that's how you want to play this, is it?" he muttered as a wicked grin spread across his face. One arm anchored her in place again, while he reached behind her and snagged the first thing he found: an egg. "This'll do nicely," he declared, breaking it near her neck so that it ran down the front of her shirt-- his shirt, but being that she was wearing it, he was willing to risk sacrificing it in the name of revenge. And he was doubly satisfied to notice that not a speck of eggshell had fallen.
Still, one egg did not equal a bag of flour. He spied the sugar, and picked it up. "What goes in a cake, again?" he pretended to muse aloud. "Flour... eggs... sugar..." With that, he emptied the bag down her shirt, trusting that it would make a nice, sticky paste where it mixed with the egg.