The Sequel: Part VI
Title: 'The Sequel'
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairings: Bree Van deKamp, Tom and Lynette Scavo
Chapter: Part VI
Rating: N17 (pretty calm chapter)
Author's Note: A wee bit of Brex - just some thoughts from Bree.
Bree Van deKamp woke up at the foot of Lynette’s bed, shivering. The small throw she’d been given to cover herself up with had fallen on the floor and she was now naked and cold. Looking up the length of the bed, Bree watched as Lynette slept and didn’t dare move; curling up into a tighter ball around her lover’s blanket-covered feet instead.
Her gaze shifting to watch the sunrise through the curtains on the window, Bree’s thoughts lingered on Rex. Her husband had been dead for months now; she hadn’t even liked him that much near the end either and yet, she felt a twinge of pain every time his face floated into view. The sun silting through the curtains looked hazy, like less of a sure thing and more of a good idea. She wondered if it were going to rain.
Rex had loved the rain. She would complain that her flowerbeds were drowning and he would shut her up with a kiss, maintaining that it was romantic and her flowers would survive. Bree looked down at the spot of sunlight warming the abandoned throw and felt choked by her emotions. Rex had been a gentle man, albeit perhaps too gentle. It seemed ironic that the reason for their split had been his desire for pain. She hadn’t understood then; she’d thought it was ridiculous and a pathetic excuse for his affair. Now, as she looked back at Lynette’s peaceful visage, she could understand that desire. Now, her desires ran even deeper and darker than her dead husband’s - the irony was not lost on her.
“I’m so sorry Rex.” Bree whispered softly, making a fist and shoving it into her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud.
Whether it was the soft noises coming from the foot of the bed or the slight movements, Lynette’s eyes opened slowly. Casting a glance down at her feet, she saw Bree hastily wipe at her eyes and attempt to smile. Frowning slightly, Lynette took in the throw on the ground and pulled back the covers beside her, patting the mattress. “Come here, precious.”
On her hands and knees, Bree crawled to the place Lynette indicated and moaned softly with appreciation as she was covered up and pulled into Lynette’s warm embrace. Huddling down within it, the sun blazing now through the curtains, Bree allowed the thoughts of Rex to evaporate along with the idea that it might rain. Lynette said nothing about the tears she’d seen in Bree’s eyes.
“Where are Tom and the kids?” Bree whispered softly.
“Tom slept on the couch last night and has taken the kids to visit his parents today. The kids are sleeping there tonight.”
Bree breathed a sigh of relief that Tom wouldn’t be walking in on them any time soon. “Would you like some breakfast, Mistress?” She asked tentatively.
Lynette smiled, kissing Bree’s hair then patting her naked hip, she kicked her out of bed with a laugh. “I would like that very much, pet.”
Biting her lip, Bree stood beside the bed with her arms crossed over her breasts. Her body looked awkward in its bareness; it was obvious Bree was not confident being unclothed in full light. “May I get dressed first?” Her voice was small and unsure.
“Nope.” Lynette yawned and stretched, leaning back against the headboard and eyeing Bree lasciviously.
Bree began to panic; she was naked. There were large windows in Lynette’s kitchen. If anyone came to the front door and bothered to look through, they would be able to see the kitchen. She couldn’t possibly go downstairs without at least a housecoat. There was no way she could cook in the nude; it was unsanitary! What if she burnt herself? Bree felt her chest begin to heave and her breath come in short gasps as the anxiety took over.
“Bree.” Lynette’s voice was a sharp wake-up call, like a slap in the face. “Go downstairs.”
Taking a deep breath, Bree nodded and moved towards the door. “Yes, Mistress.”
* * *
If there was anything Bree Van deKamp could do perfectly, it was cook. She was a flurry in the kitchen; a work of art that could have been considered a masterpiece if it weren’t for her obsessive tendencies, if it weren’t for the fact that the table setting had to be just so. Her anal retentiveness put a sour taste in her food and had been one of the reasons her husband had been “so fed up with it all”.
After a moment’s hesitation at the bottom of the steps, Bree hurried passed the front door and disappeared into the kitchen. Like a famous pianist, her fingers flew over coffee grounds, filters, water as she made a pot. They danced through the refrigerator, piling fruit and vegetables on the counter. They spun around the kitchen utensils as she whisked eggs, fried bacon, made toast and whipped up a fruit salad with yogurt on the side.
A soft chuckle made her gasp and turn around. “Rex Van deKamp didn’t know how good he had it. Poor bastard.” Lynette moved into the kitchen, looking at the feast laid out on the table before her. Thrusting her finger into the perfect mountain of yogurt in a bowl, she lifted the tip of her finger to Bree’s mouth. She noticed that the redhead glanced at the ruined bowl with a quirked frown before hastily taking the finger in her mouth and sucking off the yogurt. Bree’s obsessive perfection had always amused Lynette as it was so far from her own casual, messy lifestyle. Everyone sought to be Bree Van deKamp and here she was, cooking for Lynette in the nude, having just referred to her ‘Mistress’.
The table was set perfectly. A jug of freshly squeezed orange juice sat near the cream and sugar which were placed at an angle perpendicular to the steaming mugs of coffee. The eggs, bacon and toast were placed with surety on the plates; not touching. The eggs were perfectly beaten and made with cream so they rose like fluffy clouds, begging to be forked and eaten. The toast was a golden colour with a square of butter melting in the middle. The bacon was delicious looking, having had the grease patted out of it. And Bree stood in front of it all nervously clenching her fists at her sides, looking expectantly at Lynette.
With a grin, Lynette sat down; she took a moment to pour a dab of cream and a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. The sound of the spoon hitting the mug (Bree would have preferred porcelain but Lynette didn’t have any and she hadn’t had time to run across the road to her house) awoke Bree from her fretful worrying that Lynette would hate it and reminded her that she was standing in front of the breakfast table completely naked. She whimpered.
Lynette glanced at Bree then calmly took the redhead’s plate, bent over and put it on the floor at her feet. Bree’s eyes grew wide as she watched each deliberate action. Saying nothing, Lynette put Bree’s coffee on the floor in front of her plate then took her fork in hand and began to eat. Bree noted that Lynette had forgotten to put utensils on the ground so, taking another deep breath, she reached forward to grab them. The blonde’s hand slammed down viciously on Bree’s and the naked woman grimaced as the fork’s prongs dug into her palm.
“Do you think I forgot to give you utensils, puppet?” Bree’s eyes were large and full of fear. “I am not a forgetful woman. You will eat without them and you will be grateful I did not put your food directly on the floor.”
Shaking, Bree sank to her knees and rubbed at the fork marks on her skin. “Yes, Mistress.” She muttered as she glanced down at her food. Lynette had grabbed the morning newspaper and was opening it to read. Bree looked down once more at her plate and grabbed a piece of bacon, begrudgingly chewing on it.
Her bacon and toast gone, her coffee nearly finished, Bree glanced at her eggs as if they’d been poisoned. It would be undignified to eat scrambled eggs with her fingers; they were awkward and messy. Nursing her coffee, she eyed them with annoyance, finally deciding to forgo her eggs this morning.
“Eat your eggs.” Bree nearly dropped her coffee as she looked up at Lynette sharply. Obviously, the woman was a mind reader as well as a perverted sadist. Cursing under her breath, Bree put the coffee down and lowered her face to the plate, shoveling eggs into her mouth and feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Lynette watched Bree struggle with a smile on her face. “That’s my girl.”
In those three words, Rex Van deKamp was completely forgotten. .
...To Be Continued...
x-posted to flickacross bree_lynette desperate_fic girlslash
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Pairings: Bree Van deKamp, Tom and Lynette Scavo
Chapter: Part VI
Rating: N17 (pretty calm chapter)
Author's Note: A wee bit of Brex - just some thoughts from Bree.
Bree Van deKamp woke up at the foot of Lynette’s bed, shivering. The small throw she’d been given to cover herself up with had fallen on the floor and she was now naked and cold. Looking up the length of the bed, Bree watched as Lynette slept and didn’t dare move; curling up into a tighter ball around her lover’s blanket-covered feet instead.
Her gaze shifting to watch the sunrise through the curtains on the window, Bree’s thoughts lingered on Rex. Her husband had been dead for months now; she hadn’t even liked him that much near the end either and yet, she felt a twinge of pain every time his face floated into view. The sun silting through the curtains looked hazy, like less of a sure thing and more of a good idea. She wondered if it were going to rain.
Rex had loved the rain. She would complain that her flowerbeds were drowning and he would shut her up with a kiss, maintaining that it was romantic and her flowers would survive. Bree looked down at the spot of sunlight warming the abandoned throw and felt choked by her emotions. Rex had been a gentle man, albeit perhaps too gentle. It seemed ironic that the reason for their split had been his desire for pain. She hadn’t understood then; she’d thought it was ridiculous and a pathetic excuse for his affair. Now, as she looked back at Lynette’s peaceful visage, she could understand that desire. Now, her desires ran even deeper and darker than her dead husband’s - the irony was not lost on her.
“I’m so sorry Rex.” Bree whispered softly, making a fist and shoving it into her mouth to keep from sobbing out loud.
Whether it was the soft noises coming from the foot of the bed or the slight movements, Lynette’s eyes opened slowly. Casting a glance down at her feet, she saw Bree hastily wipe at her eyes and attempt to smile. Frowning slightly, Lynette took in the throw on the ground and pulled back the covers beside her, patting the mattress. “Come here, precious.”
On her hands and knees, Bree crawled to the place Lynette indicated and moaned softly with appreciation as she was covered up and pulled into Lynette’s warm embrace. Huddling down within it, the sun blazing now through the curtains, Bree allowed the thoughts of Rex to evaporate along with the idea that it might rain. Lynette said nothing about the tears she’d seen in Bree’s eyes.
“Where are Tom and the kids?” Bree whispered softly.
“Tom slept on the couch last night and has taken the kids to visit his parents today. The kids are sleeping there tonight.”
Bree breathed a sigh of relief that Tom wouldn’t be walking in on them any time soon. “Would you like some breakfast, Mistress?” She asked tentatively.
Lynette smiled, kissing Bree’s hair then patting her naked hip, she kicked her out of bed with a laugh. “I would like that very much, pet.”
Biting her lip, Bree stood beside the bed with her arms crossed over her breasts. Her body looked awkward in its bareness; it was obvious Bree was not confident being unclothed in full light. “May I get dressed first?” Her voice was small and unsure.
“Nope.” Lynette yawned and stretched, leaning back against the headboard and eyeing Bree lasciviously.
Bree began to panic; she was naked. There were large windows in Lynette’s kitchen. If anyone came to the front door and bothered to look through, they would be able to see the kitchen. She couldn’t possibly go downstairs without at least a housecoat. There was no way she could cook in the nude; it was unsanitary! What if she burnt herself? Bree felt her chest begin to heave and her breath come in short gasps as the anxiety took over.
“Bree.” Lynette’s voice was a sharp wake-up call, like a slap in the face. “Go downstairs.”
Taking a deep breath, Bree nodded and moved towards the door. “Yes, Mistress.”
* * *
If there was anything Bree Van deKamp could do perfectly, it was cook. She was a flurry in the kitchen; a work of art that could have been considered a masterpiece if it weren’t for her obsessive tendencies, if it weren’t for the fact that the table setting had to be just so. Her anal retentiveness put a sour taste in her food and had been one of the reasons her husband had been “so fed up with it all”.
After a moment’s hesitation at the bottom of the steps, Bree hurried passed the front door and disappeared into the kitchen. Like a famous pianist, her fingers flew over coffee grounds, filters, water as she made a pot. They danced through the refrigerator, piling fruit and vegetables on the counter. They spun around the kitchen utensils as she whisked eggs, fried bacon, made toast and whipped up a fruit salad with yogurt on the side.
A soft chuckle made her gasp and turn around. “Rex Van deKamp didn’t know how good he had it. Poor bastard.” Lynette moved into the kitchen, looking at the feast laid out on the table before her. Thrusting her finger into the perfect mountain of yogurt in a bowl, she lifted the tip of her finger to Bree’s mouth. She noticed that the redhead glanced at the ruined bowl with a quirked frown before hastily taking the finger in her mouth and sucking off the yogurt. Bree’s obsessive perfection had always amused Lynette as it was so far from her own casual, messy lifestyle. Everyone sought to be Bree Van deKamp and here she was, cooking for Lynette in the nude, having just referred to her ‘Mistress’.
The table was set perfectly. A jug of freshly squeezed orange juice sat near the cream and sugar which were placed at an angle perpendicular to the steaming mugs of coffee. The eggs, bacon and toast were placed with surety on the plates; not touching. The eggs were perfectly beaten and made with cream so they rose like fluffy clouds, begging to be forked and eaten. The toast was a golden colour with a square of butter melting in the middle. The bacon was delicious looking, having had the grease patted out of it. And Bree stood in front of it all nervously clenching her fists at her sides, looking expectantly at Lynette.
With a grin, Lynette sat down; she took a moment to pour a dab of cream and a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. The sound of the spoon hitting the mug (Bree would have preferred porcelain but Lynette didn’t have any and she hadn’t had time to run across the road to her house) awoke Bree from her fretful worrying that Lynette would hate it and reminded her that she was standing in front of the breakfast table completely naked. She whimpered.
Lynette glanced at Bree then calmly took the redhead’s plate, bent over and put it on the floor at her feet. Bree’s eyes grew wide as she watched each deliberate action. Saying nothing, Lynette put Bree’s coffee on the floor in front of her plate then took her fork in hand and began to eat. Bree noted that Lynette had forgotten to put utensils on the ground so, taking another deep breath, she reached forward to grab them. The blonde’s hand slammed down viciously on Bree’s and the naked woman grimaced as the fork’s prongs dug into her palm.
“Do you think I forgot to give you utensils, puppet?” Bree’s eyes were large and full of fear. “I am not a forgetful woman. You will eat without them and you will be grateful I did not put your food directly on the floor.”
Shaking, Bree sank to her knees and rubbed at the fork marks on her skin. “Yes, Mistress.” She muttered as she glanced down at her food. Lynette had grabbed the morning newspaper and was opening it to read. Bree looked down once more at her plate and grabbed a piece of bacon, begrudgingly chewing on it.
Her bacon and toast gone, her coffee nearly finished, Bree glanced at her eggs as if they’d been poisoned. It would be undignified to eat scrambled eggs with her fingers; they were awkward and messy. Nursing her coffee, she eyed them with annoyance, finally deciding to forgo her eggs this morning.
“Eat your eggs.” Bree nearly dropped her coffee as she looked up at Lynette sharply. Obviously, the woman was a mind reader as well as a perverted sadist. Cursing under her breath, Bree put the coffee down and lowered her face to the plate, shoveling eggs into her mouth and feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Lynette watched Bree struggle with a smile on her face. “That’s my girl.”
In those three words, Rex Van deKamp was completely forgotten. .
...To Be Continued...
x-posted to flickacross bree_lynette desperate_fic girlslash