CWRPF fic: Bake Until Golden [Genevieve/Danneel, nc-17, 1300 words]
Title: Bake Until Golden
Pairing: Genevieve/Danneel
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for latentfunction for spnspringfling. Originally posted here. Title taken from every recipe I've ever read.
Genevieve is an idiot. She’s pretty sure that there’s tomato in her hair, knows there’s tomato down her dress and she can’t get the smell of cheese off her hands.
All it took to make her inflict this day of horror on herself was Danneel mentioning off-handedly how much she was craving her mom’s cooking and Gen was offering to whip something up for her. Just a flash of Danneel’s wide grin and bright eyes and suddenly Gen is the kind of moron who invites someone over for a home cooked meal when she knows she isn’t capable of much more than microwaving leftover takeout.
But hey, she thinks she’s done a pretty decent job with her very limited skill and the lasagna has been in the oven long enough for the pleasant smell of cooking food to waft through her apartment. Hopefully it will be an awesome success, and then she and Danneel will have sex on the couch. That will teach her mother for laughing at her when Gen called her, frantically trying to find a recipe she wouldn’t screw up.
There’s a sharp rap at the door; no more time for fretting. Gen wipes her hands on the front of her dress without thinking, swears and scrubs at her front with a dish towel.
“Hey,” Danneel says when Gen opens the door. She shrugs off her coat and tosses it over the back of Gen’s couch. “I’m not too early am I?”
“Nope,” Gen says, pushing her hair back and trying not to look flustered. “Right on time. Y’know, give or take twenty minutes.”
“I guess I must’ve been excited to see you,” Danneel says and Gen’s stomach flip flops. She and Danneel have been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and still all it takes is a few perfect words out of her perfect mouth to turn Gen into a giggling, grinning idiot.
Gen turns towards the kitchen, making a half-hearted attempt to hide just how wide her smile is. “I’m just gonna check on dinner. Make yourself at home.”
Apparently making herself at home means following Gen into the kitchen and whistling when she bends over to look in the oven. The lasagna is actually looking pretty good, cheese starting to turn golden.
“Have I mentioned how hot you are when you’re being all domestic?” Danneel says when Gen closes the door and steps back from the oven. She wraps her arms around Gen’s waist; lips a hot, wet brush against Gen’s throat.
“Wait until you’ve actually tried my cooking before you start touting me as the next Donna Reed,” Gen says, leaning back into Danneel’s body heat. “You’re really setting yourself up for disappointment.”
Danneel licks a line down Gen’s neck and Gen doesn’t even try to stifle her moan.
She can feel the press of Danneel’s teeth when she smiles and says, “Couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”
“I uh,” Gen’s breath catches as Danneel goes back to sucking at her pulse point. “I worry that you’ve built up unrealistic expectations of me.”
Danneel laughs, a hot puff of breath close to her ear. “Some advice, Gen: when your totally hot, exceptionally awesome girlfriend thinks you’re the bee’s knees? It’s best not to contradict her.”
“Where is this hot, awesome girlfriend of mine, then?” Gen says with mock confusion, twisting her body so she can look over Danneel’s shoulder.
“And funny, too,” Danneel says, fingers tangling in Gen’s hair, pulling her face up and pressing their mouths together.
The kitchen floor is not where Genevieve planned on this happening. But it’s happening and that is fucking awesome.
Gen is flat on her back on the white and blue tiles with Danneel’s hands pushing her dress up to her hips. Danneel teases two fingers along the seam of Gen’s panties and the skimming touch over the soft fabric has Gen arching forward.
“You want more, baby?” Danneel murmurs. Gen catches Danneel’s wrist, presses her hand right against Gen’s pussy. Let’s Danneel feel how much more she wants.
She lifts her hips up, allowing Danneel to pull her panties right down to her ankles. Danneel kisses her, a quick press of lips and sweep of tongue before pulling away until she’s kneeling between Gen’s spread thighs.
Danneel quirks an eyebrow in askance and Gen nods frantically. Danneel grins at her and then she’s sliding down onto her belly, fingers twisting in the fabric of Gen’s bunched up dress.
The first flick of Danneel’s tongue against Gen’s clit has Gen arching up off the floor, fingertips scrabbling against smooth tile as she tries to ground herself.
“Oh fuck,” Gen moans. Danneel sucks at her clit, one of Danneel’s long, slender fingers sliding inside her and Gen has to bite down on her bottom lip and swallow her scream or she’s going to cry out so loud the neighbours will complain.
She feels flushed all over, sweat pricking at her skin and her breath coming in hot bursts as Danneel finds her rhythm; tongue pushing inside her and twisting, fingers rubbing at Gen’s clit. Gen’s shaking as Danneel works her body, all her muscles clenching tight against the waves of pleasure running through her.
One of Gen’s hands is in Danneel’s hair, soft and silky against her over-heated skin, not really directing her so much as holding on like she’s afraid Danneel’s going to pull away and leave Gen a desperate, sweaty mess on the floor. With her other hand she cups her own breast, thumb teasing her nipple until it almost hurts, then playing with the other one.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Danneel says, and Gen feels the words ghost against her flesh more than she hears them.
Gen makes a low, gasping noise in response and Danneel licks straight up; a hot, wet drag of tongue. She sucks Gen’s clit into her mouth with a slight scrape of teeth that sends Gen over the edge.
The first thing Gen notices when her body stops thrumming and she can breathe properly again is that Danneel is no longer pressed up warm and soft against her.
The second is that the room smells like burnt ass and someone is swearing.
“Fucking shit fuck.” Danneel is standing at the oven, peering inside and holding a dishcloth in one hand.
“Well,” Gen says, picking herself up off the floor. Her panties are still tangled around one ankle and she chooses to kick them off rather than pull them up. “That smells disgusting.”
Danneel turns around, looking sheepish. “I was kind of hoping I could fix it before you uh, joined me back in the real world.”
Gen takes a few steps closer, leaning forward to inspect the blackened hunk that her lasagna has become. “I really don’t think that’s fixable.”
“I guess not,” Danneel says. “It might still taste okay if we scrape off the burnt bits.”
“That’s really sweet, and mighty optimistic of you,” Gen says. “But I’d like to propose another offer.”
“Mm, what’s that?” Danneel moves away from the oven and presses right up against Gen’s side.
“We throw that far, far away, and move into a room that doesn’t smell like charcoal. My bedroom seems like a good option.”
“I think I can work with that.” Danneel agrees. “I would also propose sex. Lots and lots of sex. And then pizza, followed by more sex.”
“Well, you did ruin the meal I spent hours slaving over with your awesome orgasm-giving skills.” Gen says, resting her hands on Danneel’s waist, sliding them up under her shirt. “I think you owe me at least four more.”
“Deal,” Danneel says, and kisses her.
Pairing: Genevieve/Danneel
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Written for latentfunction for spnspringfling. Originally posted here. Title taken from every recipe I've ever read.
Genevieve is an idiot. She’s pretty sure that there’s tomato in her hair, knows there’s tomato down her dress and she can’t get the smell of cheese off her hands.
All it took to make her inflict this day of horror on herself was Danneel mentioning off-handedly how much she was craving her mom’s cooking and Gen was offering to whip something up for her. Just a flash of Danneel’s wide grin and bright eyes and suddenly Gen is the kind of moron who invites someone over for a home cooked meal when she knows she isn’t capable of much more than microwaving leftover takeout.
But hey, she thinks she’s done a pretty decent job with her very limited skill and the lasagna has been in the oven long enough for the pleasant smell of cooking food to waft through her apartment. Hopefully it will be an awesome success, and then she and Danneel will have sex on the couch. That will teach her mother for laughing at her when Gen called her, frantically trying to find a recipe she wouldn’t screw up.
There’s a sharp rap at the door; no more time for fretting. Gen wipes her hands on the front of her dress without thinking, swears and scrubs at her front with a dish towel.
“Hey,” Danneel says when Gen opens the door. She shrugs off her coat and tosses it over the back of Gen’s couch. “I’m not too early am I?”
“Nope,” Gen says, pushing her hair back and trying not to look flustered. “Right on time. Y’know, give or take twenty minutes.”
“I guess I must’ve been excited to see you,” Danneel says and Gen’s stomach flip flops. She and Danneel have been seeing each other for a few weeks now, and still all it takes is a few perfect words out of her perfect mouth to turn Gen into a giggling, grinning idiot.
Gen turns towards the kitchen, making a half-hearted attempt to hide just how wide her smile is. “I’m just gonna check on dinner. Make yourself at home.”
Apparently making herself at home means following Gen into the kitchen and whistling when she bends over to look in the oven. The lasagna is actually looking pretty good, cheese starting to turn golden.
“Have I mentioned how hot you are when you’re being all domestic?” Danneel says when Gen closes the door and steps back from the oven. She wraps her arms around Gen’s waist; lips a hot, wet brush against Gen’s throat.
“Wait until you’ve actually tried my cooking before you start touting me as the next Donna Reed,” Gen says, leaning back into Danneel’s body heat. “You’re really setting yourself up for disappointment.”
Danneel licks a line down Gen’s neck and Gen doesn’t even try to stifle her moan.
She can feel the press of Danneel’s teeth when she smiles and says, “Couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”
“I uh,” Gen’s breath catches as Danneel goes back to sucking at her pulse point. “I worry that you’ve built up unrealistic expectations of me.”
Danneel laughs, a hot puff of breath close to her ear. “Some advice, Gen: when your totally hot, exceptionally awesome girlfriend thinks you’re the bee’s knees? It’s best not to contradict her.”
“Where is this hot, awesome girlfriend of mine, then?” Gen says with mock confusion, twisting her body so she can look over Danneel’s shoulder.
“And funny, too,” Danneel says, fingers tangling in Gen’s hair, pulling her face up and pressing their mouths together.
The kitchen floor is not where Genevieve planned on this happening. But it’s happening and that is fucking awesome.
Gen is flat on her back on the white and blue tiles with Danneel’s hands pushing her dress up to her hips. Danneel teases two fingers along the seam of Gen’s panties and the skimming touch over the soft fabric has Gen arching forward.
“You want more, baby?” Danneel murmurs. Gen catches Danneel’s wrist, presses her hand right against Gen’s pussy. Let’s Danneel feel how much more she wants.
She lifts her hips up, allowing Danneel to pull her panties right down to her ankles. Danneel kisses her, a quick press of lips and sweep of tongue before pulling away until she’s kneeling between Gen’s spread thighs.
Danneel quirks an eyebrow in askance and Gen nods frantically. Danneel grins at her and then she’s sliding down onto her belly, fingers twisting in the fabric of Gen’s bunched up dress.
The first flick of Danneel’s tongue against Gen’s clit has Gen arching up off the floor, fingertips scrabbling against smooth tile as she tries to ground herself.
“Oh fuck,” Gen moans. Danneel sucks at her clit, one of Danneel’s long, slender fingers sliding inside her and Gen has to bite down on her bottom lip and swallow her scream or she’s going to cry out so loud the neighbours will complain.
She feels flushed all over, sweat pricking at her skin and her breath coming in hot bursts as Danneel finds her rhythm; tongue pushing inside her and twisting, fingers rubbing at Gen’s clit. Gen’s shaking as Danneel works her body, all her muscles clenching tight against the waves of pleasure running through her.
One of Gen’s hands is in Danneel’s hair, soft and silky against her over-heated skin, not really directing her so much as holding on like she’s afraid Danneel’s going to pull away and leave Gen a desperate, sweaty mess on the floor. With her other hand she cups her own breast, thumb teasing her nipple until it almost hurts, then playing with the other one.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Danneel says, and Gen feels the words ghost against her flesh more than she hears them.
Gen makes a low, gasping noise in response and Danneel licks straight up; a hot, wet drag of tongue. She sucks Gen’s clit into her mouth with a slight scrape of teeth that sends Gen over the edge.
The first thing Gen notices when her body stops thrumming and she can breathe properly again is that Danneel is no longer pressed up warm and soft against her.
The second is that the room smells like burnt ass and someone is swearing.
“Fucking shit fuck.” Danneel is standing at the oven, peering inside and holding a dishcloth in one hand.
“Well,” Gen says, picking herself up off the floor. Her panties are still tangled around one ankle and she chooses to kick them off rather than pull them up. “That smells disgusting.”
Danneel turns around, looking sheepish. “I was kind of hoping I could fix it before you uh, joined me back in the real world.”
Gen takes a few steps closer, leaning forward to inspect the blackened hunk that her lasagna has become. “I really don’t think that’s fixable.”
“I guess not,” Danneel says. “It might still taste okay if we scrape off the burnt bits.”
“That’s really sweet, and mighty optimistic of you,” Gen says. “But I’d like to propose another offer.”
“Mm, what’s that?” Danneel moves away from the oven and presses right up against Gen’s side.
“We throw that far, far away, and move into a room that doesn’t smell like charcoal. My bedroom seems like a good option.”
“I think I can work with that.” Danneel agrees. “I would also propose sex. Lots and lots of sex. And then pizza, followed by more sex.”
“Well, you did ruin the meal I spent hours slaving over with your awesome orgasm-giving skills.” Gen says, resting her hands on Danneel’s waist, sliding them up under her shirt. “I think you owe me at least four more.”
“Deal,” Danneel says, and kisses her.