TBBT Sheldon Penny Fic: Routine
Title: Routine
Author: black_panda_ops
Spoilers: Doubtful, so long as you are current
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 - It's a wank fic and as such gets specific, not to mention a bit over crowded. Sheldon, Penny, and other fictional characters
Word Count: 2,953
Disclaimer: I don't write often, and I wasn't able to find a beta, so... Oh yeah and I don't own these characters (and it shows).
The crackling of the plastic bags as Sheldon flipped through his comic collection was regular and soothing. He paused a moment as he heard a muffled snort. He lifted his head and cocked an ear towards the sound. He heard a rustling that probably meant Leonard was turning over in bed in the other room. Good. That would be quieter. Less distracting. The insulation was inadequate in the apartment, despite many suggestions to the landlord. Sheldon did question the necessity of Leonard’s habit of sleeping in on Saturday mornings. There wasn’t anything important scheduled late on Fridays. Sheldon had tried to explain the negative consequences of cavalierly disrupting circadian rhythms a few times, before he realized that he actually appreciated the Leonard-less Saturday mornings.
He smirked a moment at his cunning in turning the situation to his advantage. Then he resumed his rhythmic flipping through cardboard backed issues. He pulled his choice forth with a triumphant flourish. Ultimate Fantastic Four #25 would do nicely. He always did enjoy Namor’s appearances, though he couldn’t approve how the AU butchered the Submariner’s back-story by casting it as a time travel story. All that was immaterial, he reminded himself. He sought Greg Land’s artwork, though he would never want to admit it aloud. Land relied too heavily on photographic models, and repetitive static poses. It really limited the effectiveness of the story telling. Even so, he did draw a beautiful Sue Storm.
Sheldon really didn’t need to slide the comic out of the bag. He knew the contents. He could visualize them panel by panel. However, the curse of an eidetic memory was he could remember other images just as clearly. Visions of “juicy” pants or worse yet “soup” tattoos were likely to eclipse whatever he chose to have in mind later. Sheldon accepted that he had to make some concessions to biology occasionally, and had surrendered his Saturday morning shower time to preserve peace of mind the rest of the week. However, it would be foolish to continue to strengthen that already troubling stimulus response association he had noticed developing.
He flipped through the pages of Land’s artwork with determination, giving total focus to following the curves of the lines to the most interesting junctions. He was far less likely to embarrass himself in an encounter with the fictional Invisible Woman than his ever-present neighbor. Sheldon closed the book and replaced it in its bag. He called images of costumed beauty to mind with satisfying facility as he knotted his robe, and gathered up a fresh fluffy towel as well as a bottle of hand lotion. A quick glance at the clock confirmed 7:45. There should be plenty of time for a shower before Leonard woke.
Sheldon strode down the hall to the bathroom with crisp steps. He opened the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind him in one fluid motion. Then he sighed and let himself relax with his back slumped against the door. He’d made it without any awkward involved explanations. Not that he should have to explain at length the need to take a shower. It was basic hygiene. Nonetheless, he had long ago prepared a cover story, and an innocuous explanation for the lotion. He quietly set the bottle on the edge of the tub and hung the towel.
He was free to imagine feminine hands pulling him close for a kiss, then unknotting his plaid robe slowly. He let the robe fall to the floor, in the standard cinematic fashion. The thought of mold, or worse yet e-coli, bothered him. It was too late for that; the only cure was the wash. Still, the fabric would wrinkle if left in a heap. He might get questions about an uncharacteristically untidy robe. He hadn’t had time to fully flesh out a convincing cover story for that. He kneeled down, gathered up the garment, and hung it neatly on a hook. His imaginary blonde companion tried to hide a smile.
He switched on the water with a precise twist and closed his eyes. The desired pre-selected image appeared in vivid detail. The beautiful Sue Storm stood in a defiant pose, arm behind her blowing blond hair, one hip jutted out to the side. She did not balance a laundry basket on that hip. Forcing that addition to the picture out of his head, he reached into the stream of water from the shower. It was not yet quite warm enough. The flow between his fingers was stimulating in a way he usually did not allow himself to consider. He considered running his hands through a soft golden hair, and reached to touch himself with his free hand.
“What’cha doing there, Moonpie?” Penny’s voice asked in his head. He stifled a groan of frustration. Her face with raised brows and pursed lips was all too clear in his mind. She nodded slowly at his swelling erection. He stared at the slight curve of her lips a moment before turning his eyes decisively to the periodic table on the shower curtain. He ran through the elements in the boxes, to refocus his thoughts. Then he pulled back the plastic sheet and stepped inside. The rush of water at his back was pleasant. He relaxed further as he felt its warmth course down his shoulders and flow down his back and chest and over his legs. He ignored the feel of the rough adhesive stickers below his feet. He would not think about whimsical ducks.
He called up his image of Sue Storm again. She stood in the same pose. Flowing blonde hair, check. Eyes half shut and hand on the Submariner’s thigh, check. Spending too much time considering the Alantean man’s muscular form was probably going to be counter productive. Sheldon decided to imagine that he himself would stand behind her. His hand would rest just below her breast on her rib cage, so. The other hand should go on his hip, near hers. Good, he saw it clearly.
As he stood, motionless, the only movement the coursing of water, he realized then that the image might be a little too static. Curse Greg Land. Despite the cover, the couple in the comic book didn’t really do much more than stand in a few provocative poses before Sue pushed Namor away and into the side of a bus. Sheldon shifted a little, the rough surface of the safety stickers abrading the ball of his foot slightly.
“Your fantasy confuses me,” Penny offered from the other side of the shower curtain. Was that popcorn he smelled? “Isn’t Sue married to that stretchy scientist guy?”
“Reed Richards. Yes. Not in this continuity, yet. Don’t you have shoes to buy or something?”
“Maybe later.” She peeked around the edge of the shower curtain. “I’m kind of enjoying making you feel uncomfortable.” Her gaze trailed down. “You seem to enjoy it as well.”
“No, out now!” He insisted and banished her from his thoughts.
Once again, he brought the super-heroine into clearly to mind. So what next? Sue would turn in his arms. Never mind that she never cheated on Reed Richards in cannon. This was his fantasy. She would wrap her arms around his shoulders. His hand would move up, over her rib cage to cup her breast.
Memories flashed. Breast. He curled his hand as he recalled the feel of fingers curved around soft flesh, nipple against his palm. He remembered Penny teasing him about him getting her into bed. His erection hardened with a twitch. Apparently, some part of his brain found his humiliation arousing. Maybe he should have gone with Wonder Woman and that Golden Lasso again, he thought with chagrin. Sometimes the classics were the best choice, he thought as he reached down to stroke himself slowly. The curve of Penny’s breasts over the bodice of that her New Year’s costume sprang obligingly to mind.
“So, sweetie, ready to admit you’re kind of hung up on me?” He imagined her question coming in a surprisingly gentle tone. Penny stood inside the tub now, stray droplets of water darkening the material of the costume.
“It seems so.”
Her hand cupped his face. She kissed him softly, and then more urgently pressed her body against his. He increased the tempo of his pumping. If she were real he wouldn’t know what to say after a kiss, what to do next. She would. Penny trailed a hand down his arm and took his free hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. She pulled his head down to hers and whispered in his ear, “You know I really don’t like this costume.”
“I have no idea why not,” he growled to himself, not breaking tempo. “Your usual wardrobe is hardly modest.” A catalog of tight camisoles and short shorts ran through his mind. “Pick one, Leonard isn’t going to sleep forever.”
She stepped away and looked down. She was still wearing the red, gold, and blue costume, though it was damp now. The wet fabric clung even closer to her body. “What’s the lariat for, Sheldon?” She fingered the golden strand thoughtfully.
“Lasso” He corrected, “The Lasso of Truth.”
“Ah that’s right.” She pulled the loop wide and reached high over his head and down again to encircle him. “You told me about the lasso of truth on Cowgirl Day.” He nodded. That was a good day. “I tie you up in knots and you have to tell me you want me whether you like to admit it or not.” She tugged him close with a quick jerk. Her tongue invaded his mouth. Her hand roamed his chest then lower with teasing strokes over his abdomen. His breath came quicker now, his hand tighter and moving faster.
“You know sweetie,” she said, her hand taking his away, and lowering herself to her knees, “you really need to get some real porn.” He grabbed the lotion with shaky hands to decrease the frictional coefficient as he imagined her taking him slowly into her mouth. He was close. Her head bobbed in his minds eye and his hips jerked involuntarily. So close.
Still, she had to be elude him, even in his imagination. She let his erection slip from her lips. She looked up at him, lips red, slightly parted. “If I do this for you, Sheldon, whatcha going to do for me?”
“Penny, need I remind you this is my sexual fantasy?”
“Clearly.” She retorted dryly, “What’s the statistical likelihood of my stepping into your shower, roping you up and giving you fellatio?”
Statistical likelihood? Fellatio? That didn’t sound quite right coming from her. “Oh no! No you don’t!” He objected. “You are not bringing Amy into this shower. You know that does not end well.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing,” Amy interjected, “I will not be wearing that costume. Sheldon, I’m disappointed in you. Your Amazonian Princess is nothing but the wish fulfillment fantasy of a failed psychology professor, based on outmoded theories about catharsis.”
“Get her out of here.” He hissed.
“Sheldon, need I remind you this is your sexual fantasy?” Penny taunted with a grin.
She was right. Yes, it was. It was his choice what he imagined. He chose to picture her teasing the head of his penis with her pink tongue. Slick. Good. He squeezed himself and tried to bring her bobbing head back.
Amy looked on with mild clinical interest. No!
Penny pushed away slightly. “Are you sure Sheldon, she pretty much lets you have your way? I don’t think she’d push you to do anything messy.”
“What are you implying?” He watched sadly, as Penny rose to her feet, her lips still rosy from the friction.
“I believe she is referring to the well known statistics on cunnilingus being the most reliable path to female orgasm, and the preferred sexual act of 75 to 80 percent of survey participants. The exact figure depends on the survey, of course.”
“Out!” He insisted as Amy finally disappeared.
“I do like it.”
“I suspect you do. I’ve heard the little noises. Then the louder ones. Then the entreaties to a higher power. I had to buy noise cancelling headphones.”
“Yeah sorry about…”
“Oh all right.”
“Really?” Penny said in some confusion, “but germs and stuff.” He placed his hands on her shoulders to push gently, turning him to face away from him. He reached out and unzipped the costume. The front fell away and he reached up to cup her bare breasts as he kissed her neck.
“Uh mmm, yeah that’s nice.” Her voice echoed quietly in his mind. “Unexpected, but nice. Sheldon, sweetie, you sure?”
He didn’t reply. He pushed the fabric down her body, past her full hips. He smiled briefly at the tattoo, and then knelt down as he pushed the costume down her long legs and off. “Cute shoes.” He said as he took one kitten heel in hand and threw it outside the tub.
“Of course.” She reached down and removed the other. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I notice.” He reached up and slid a hand up her thigh. He always noticed the shape of her long legs. He ran a hand over her full hip and grasped her buttock. Her breath hitched a little as he traced the lines of the Chinese character. He traced his fingers over the crease where her buttock met her leg then reached between her legs to trace more intimate folds.
“Oh that’s right. Little higher.” He had never imagined her shy. “There.” His fingers circled slowly, and her breath quickened.
“Turn around, please.”
“Uh, this is new. How is this going to work? This tub is kind of crowded and we never…”
“I said, turn around. My fantasy, my rules. You put your foot here. It’s going to work.”
“You don’t have to…” She trailed off as he traced a finger over the hollow of her inner thigh, and then into through her pubic hair. He traced the line through her wet flesh gently. “I told you,” she gasped, “I’m a big ‘ol five. I like to initiate…”
“Silence!” He insisted, “I’m familiar with the paradigm. We’re changing it today.” He took firm hold of her hips and brought his mouth to her. Anatomical drawings rose before his minds eye, as he traced the labia minora and then along to the clitoral hood. He’d read that tracing the alphabet was a reliable strategy… He pushed all that away. He let the Georgia O’Keefe paintings stay though, when they proved tenacious.
“But... Science…” She moaned slightly. “This isn’t the way it works with us… Unnnn… I reach out, you shut me down.”
He pushed his mouth away and looked up, holding her eyes. “I told you I’m familiar with the paradigm.” He ran his hands over her hips and up her sides. He cupped her breasts, still down on his knees, looking up at her. He drew circles with his fingers around her nipples as he waited. She still looked dubious, though flushed. His hands stilled, and then slid down to her hips again.
“But we’re changing it?” Penny echoed with a little pant, looking down at him uncertainly, possibly hopefully.
“If you’re OK with…”
“Yeah I’m good!” She took both sides of his head between her hands. “Just stop talking before you ruin it like you always do.”
“What are you talking about it? I don’t… Mmmph!” He took firm hold of her hips. Sheldon focused on the slick feel of his tongue, as he circled and sucked. The sound of her mounting satisfaction echoed in his ears. He reached between his own thighs and grasped his erection tightly.
“Oh yes. God yes! Oh God,” she chanted. Then as he pulled away, “What the hell?”
“Say my name.”
“Damn it! Sheldon!”
“That will do.” He returned his mouth to her and sucked hard
“Sheldon!” He quickened his pace. The incoherent sounds she made were all for his ears this time. The little shudders, her little wobble as she found it hard to stay standing as he teased her clit with his tongue ceaselessly. He steadied her, hand firm on her hip.
“Sheldon!” That was for him. She whispered his name over and over, as he slipped his fingers inside her again and again. He repeated hers silently to himself as he thrust his hips up to meet his fist. In the real word, his motions grew jerky and his attention returned to a single point. He heard her cry out while his back arched. Thrusting his hips upward, as he found his release as he imagined hers.
As his shudders calmed and the sticky fluid from his climax washed away, he sighed. The mild discomfort of an abrasion on his left shin penetrated his consciousness. The duck sticker wouldn’t be ignored forever, apparently.
He let the water run over his limp body in rivulets a while longer. The he then got up and finished washing with his more usual efficiency.
*************
Bundled up and on his way back to his room he ran into Leonard. His roommate wore a robe of his own. Leonard pushed his glasses up his nose and gave Sheldon a quizzical look.
“Oh hello,” Sheldon began brightly, “you are up a bit earlier than usual.” He wondered if he needed to explain the budge of the lotion bottle sitting in the pocket of his robe. Couldn’t hurt. He took a breath…
Leonard raised a hand and shook his head. “Any hot water left?” He asked.
“Doubtful” Sheldon felt his cheeks heat and he looked at his feet.
“No problem. I’ll just read my email for a while.”
“Very well.” Sheldon returned to his room without further comment.
Author: black_panda_ops
Spoilers: Doubtful, so long as you are current
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 - It's a wank fic and as such gets specific, not to mention a bit over crowded. Sheldon, Penny, and other fictional characters
Word Count: 2,953
Disclaimer: I don't write often, and I wasn't able to find a beta, so... Oh yeah and I don't own these characters (and it shows).
The crackling of the plastic bags as Sheldon flipped through his comic collection was regular and soothing. He paused a moment as he heard a muffled snort. He lifted his head and cocked an ear towards the sound. He heard a rustling that probably meant Leonard was turning over in bed in the other room. Good. That would be quieter. Less distracting. The insulation was inadequate in the apartment, despite many suggestions to the landlord. Sheldon did question the necessity of Leonard’s habit of sleeping in on Saturday mornings. There wasn’t anything important scheduled late on Fridays. Sheldon had tried to explain the negative consequences of cavalierly disrupting circadian rhythms a few times, before he realized that he actually appreciated the Leonard-less Saturday mornings.
He smirked a moment at his cunning in turning the situation to his advantage. Then he resumed his rhythmic flipping through cardboard backed issues. He pulled his choice forth with a triumphant flourish. Ultimate Fantastic Four #25 would do nicely. He always did enjoy Namor’s appearances, though he couldn’t approve how the AU butchered the Submariner’s back-story by casting it as a time travel story. All that was immaterial, he reminded himself. He sought Greg Land’s artwork, though he would never want to admit it aloud. Land relied too heavily on photographic models, and repetitive static poses. It really limited the effectiveness of the story telling. Even so, he did draw a beautiful Sue Storm.
Sheldon really didn’t need to slide the comic out of the bag. He knew the contents. He could visualize them panel by panel. However, the curse of an eidetic memory was he could remember other images just as clearly. Visions of “juicy” pants or worse yet “soup” tattoos were likely to eclipse whatever he chose to have in mind later. Sheldon accepted that he had to make some concessions to biology occasionally, and had surrendered his Saturday morning shower time to preserve peace of mind the rest of the week. However, it would be foolish to continue to strengthen that already troubling stimulus response association he had noticed developing.
He flipped through the pages of Land’s artwork with determination, giving total focus to following the curves of the lines to the most interesting junctions. He was far less likely to embarrass himself in an encounter with the fictional Invisible Woman than his ever-present neighbor. Sheldon closed the book and replaced it in its bag. He called images of costumed beauty to mind with satisfying facility as he knotted his robe, and gathered up a fresh fluffy towel as well as a bottle of hand lotion. A quick glance at the clock confirmed 7:45. There should be plenty of time for a shower before Leonard woke.
Sheldon strode down the hall to the bathroom with crisp steps. He opened the door, stepped inside, and locked it behind him in one fluid motion. Then he sighed and let himself relax with his back slumped against the door. He’d made it without any awkward involved explanations. Not that he should have to explain at length the need to take a shower. It was basic hygiene. Nonetheless, he had long ago prepared a cover story, and an innocuous explanation for the lotion. He quietly set the bottle on the edge of the tub and hung the towel.
He was free to imagine feminine hands pulling him close for a kiss, then unknotting his plaid robe slowly. He let the robe fall to the floor, in the standard cinematic fashion. The thought of mold, or worse yet e-coli, bothered him. It was too late for that; the only cure was the wash. Still, the fabric would wrinkle if left in a heap. He might get questions about an uncharacteristically untidy robe. He hadn’t had time to fully flesh out a convincing cover story for that. He kneeled down, gathered up the garment, and hung it neatly on a hook. His imaginary blonde companion tried to hide a smile.
He switched on the water with a precise twist and closed his eyes. The desired pre-selected image appeared in vivid detail. The beautiful Sue Storm stood in a defiant pose, arm behind her blowing blond hair, one hip jutted out to the side. She did not balance a laundry basket on that hip. Forcing that addition to the picture out of his head, he reached into the stream of water from the shower. It was not yet quite warm enough. The flow between his fingers was stimulating in a way he usually did not allow himself to consider. He considered running his hands through a soft golden hair, and reached to touch himself with his free hand.
“What’cha doing there, Moonpie?” Penny’s voice asked in his head. He stifled a groan of frustration. Her face with raised brows and pursed lips was all too clear in his mind. She nodded slowly at his swelling erection. He stared at the slight curve of her lips a moment before turning his eyes decisively to the periodic table on the shower curtain. He ran through the elements in the boxes, to refocus his thoughts. Then he pulled back the plastic sheet and stepped inside. The rush of water at his back was pleasant. He relaxed further as he felt its warmth course down his shoulders and flow down his back and chest and over his legs. He ignored the feel of the rough adhesive stickers below his feet. He would not think about whimsical ducks.
He called up his image of Sue Storm again. She stood in the same pose. Flowing blonde hair, check. Eyes half shut and hand on the Submariner’s thigh, check. Spending too much time considering the Alantean man’s muscular form was probably going to be counter productive. Sheldon decided to imagine that he himself would stand behind her. His hand would rest just below her breast on her rib cage, so. The other hand should go on his hip, near hers. Good, he saw it clearly.
As he stood, motionless, the only movement the coursing of water, he realized then that the image might be a little too static. Curse Greg Land. Despite the cover, the couple in the comic book didn’t really do much more than stand in a few provocative poses before Sue pushed Namor away and into the side of a bus. Sheldon shifted a little, the rough surface of the safety stickers abrading the ball of his foot slightly.
“Your fantasy confuses me,” Penny offered from the other side of the shower curtain. Was that popcorn he smelled? “Isn’t Sue married to that stretchy scientist guy?”
“Reed Richards. Yes. Not in this continuity, yet. Don’t you have shoes to buy or something?”
“Maybe later.” She peeked around the edge of the shower curtain. “I’m kind of enjoying making you feel uncomfortable.” Her gaze trailed down. “You seem to enjoy it as well.”
“No, out now!” He insisted and banished her from his thoughts.
Once again, he brought the super-heroine into clearly to mind. So what next? Sue would turn in his arms. Never mind that she never cheated on Reed Richards in cannon. This was his fantasy. She would wrap her arms around his shoulders. His hand would move up, over her rib cage to cup her breast.
Memories flashed. Breast. He curled his hand as he recalled the feel of fingers curved around soft flesh, nipple against his palm. He remembered Penny teasing him about him getting her into bed. His erection hardened with a twitch. Apparently, some part of his brain found his humiliation arousing. Maybe he should have gone with Wonder Woman and that Golden Lasso again, he thought with chagrin. Sometimes the classics were the best choice, he thought as he reached down to stroke himself slowly. The curve of Penny’s breasts over the bodice of that her New Year’s costume sprang obligingly to mind.
“So, sweetie, ready to admit you’re kind of hung up on me?” He imagined her question coming in a surprisingly gentle tone. Penny stood inside the tub now, stray droplets of water darkening the material of the costume.
“It seems so.”
Her hand cupped his face. She kissed him softly, and then more urgently pressed her body against his. He increased the tempo of his pumping. If she were real he wouldn’t know what to say after a kiss, what to do next. She would. Penny trailed a hand down his arm and took his free hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. She pulled his head down to hers and whispered in his ear, “You know I really don’t like this costume.”
“I have no idea why not,” he growled to himself, not breaking tempo. “Your usual wardrobe is hardly modest.” A catalog of tight camisoles and short shorts ran through his mind. “Pick one, Leonard isn’t going to sleep forever.”
She stepped away and looked down. She was still wearing the red, gold, and blue costume, though it was damp now. The wet fabric clung even closer to her body. “What’s the lariat for, Sheldon?” She fingered the golden strand thoughtfully.
“Lasso” He corrected, “The Lasso of Truth.”
“Ah that’s right.” She pulled the loop wide and reached high over his head and down again to encircle him. “You told me about the lasso of truth on Cowgirl Day.” He nodded. That was a good day. “I tie you up in knots and you have to tell me you want me whether you like to admit it or not.” She tugged him close with a quick jerk. Her tongue invaded his mouth. Her hand roamed his chest then lower with teasing strokes over his abdomen. His breath came quicker now, his hand tighter and moving faster.
“You know sweetie,” she said, her hand taking his away, and lowering herself to her knees, “you really need to get some real porn.” He grabbed the lotion with shaky hands to decrease the frictional coefficient as he imagined her taking him slowly into her mouth. He was close. Her head bobbed in his minds eye and his hips jerked involuntarily. So close.
Still, she had to be elude him, even in his imagination. She let his erection slip from her lips. She looked up at him, lips red, slightly parted. “If I do this for you, Sheldon, whatcha going to do for me?”
“Penny, need I remind you this is my sexual fantasy?”
“Clearly.” She retorted dryly, “What’s the statistical likelihood of my stepping into your shower, roping you up and giving you fellatio?”
Statistical likelihood? Fellatio? That didn’t sound quite right coming from her. “Oh no! No you don’t!” He objected. “You are not bringing Amy into this shower. You know that does not end well.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing,” Amy interjected, “I will not be wearing that costume. Sheldon, I’m disappointed in you. Your Amazonian Princess is nothing but the wish fulfillment fantasy of a failed psychology professor, based on outmoded theories about catharsis.”
“Get her out of here.” He hissed.
“Sheldon, need I remind you this is your sexual fantasy?” Penny taunted with a grin.
She was right. Yes, it was. It was his choice what he imagined. He chose to picture her teasing the head of his penis with her pink tongue. Slick. Good. He squeezed himself and tried to bring her bobbing head back.
Amy looked on with mild clinical interest. No!
Penny pushed away slightly. “Are you sure Sheldon, she pretty much lets you have your way? I don’t think she’d push you to do anything messy.”
“What are you implying?” He watched sadly, as Penny rose to her feet, her lips still rosy from the friction.
“I believe she is referring to the well known statistics on cunnilingus being the most reliable path to female orgasm, and the preferred sexual act of 75 to 80 percent of survey participants. The exact figure depends on the survey, of course.”
“Out!” He insisted as Amy finally disappeared.
“I do like it.”
“I suspect you do. I’ve heard the little noises. Then the louder ones. Then the entreaties to a higher power. I had to buy noise cancelling headphones.”
“Yeah sorry about…”
“Oh all right.”
“Really?” Penny said in some confusion, “but germs and stuff.” He placed his hands on her shoulders to push gently, turning him to face away from him. He reached out and unzipped the costume. The front fell away and he reached up to cup her bare breasts as he kissed her neck.
“Uh mmm, yeah that’s nice.” Her voice echoed quietly in his mind. “Unexpected, but nice. Sheldon, sweetie, you sure?”
He didn’t reply. He pushed the fabric down her body, past her full hips. He smiled briefly at the tattoo, and then knelt down as he pushed the costume down her long legs and off. “Cute shoes.” He said as he took one kitten heel in hand and threw it outside the tub.
“Of course.” She reached down and removed the other. “I’m surprised you noticed.”
“I notice.” He reached up and slid a hand up her thigh. He always noticed the shape of her long legs. He ran a hand over her full hip and grasped her buttock. Her breath hitched a little as he traced the lines of the Chinese character. He traced his fingers over the crease where her buttock met her leg then reached between her legs to trace more intimate folds.
“Oh that’s right. Little higher.” He had never imagined her shy. “There.” His fingers circled slowly, and her breath quickened.
“Turn around, please.”
“Uh, this is new. How is this going to work? This tub is kind of crowded and we never…”
“I said, turn around. My fantasy, my rules. You put your foot here. It’s going to work.”
“You don’t have to…” She trailed off as he traced a finger over the hollow of her inner thigh, and then into through her pubic hair. He traced the line through her wet flesh gently. “I told you,” she gasped, “I’m a big ‘ol five. I like to initiate…”
“Silence!” He insisted, “I’m familiar with the paradigm. We’re changing it today.” He took firm hold of her hips and brought his mouth to her. Anatomical drawings rose before his minds eye, as he traced the labia minora and then along to the clitoral hood. He’d read that tracing the alphabet was a reliable strategy… He pushed all that away. He let the Georgia O’Keefe paintings stay though, when they proved tenacious.
“But... Science…” She moaned slightly. “This isn’t the way it works with us… Unnnn… I reach out, you shut me down.”
He pushed his mouth away and looked up, holding her eyes. “I told you I’m familiar with the paradigm.” He ran his hands over her hips and up her sides. He cupped her breasts, still down on his knees, looking up at her. He drew circles with his fingers around her nipples as he waited. She still looked dubious, though flushed. His hands stilled, and then slid down to her hips again.
“But we’re changing it?” Penny echoed with a little pant, looking down at him uncertainly, possibly hopefully.
“If you’re OK with…”
“Yeah I’m good!” She took both sides of his head between her hands. “Just stop talking before you ruin it like you always do.”
“What are you talking about it? I don’t… Mmmph!” He took firm hold of her hips. Sheldon focused on the slick feel of his tongue, as he circled and sucked. The sound of her mounting satisfaction echoed in his ears. He reached between his own thighs and grasped his erection tightly.
“Oh yes. God yes! Oh God,” she chanted. Then as he pulled away, “What the hell?”
“Say my name.”
“Damn it! Sheldon!”
“That will do.” He returned his mouth to her and sucked hard
“Sheldon!” He quickened his pace. The incoherent sounds she made were all for his ears this time. The little shudders, her little wobble as she found it hard to stay standing as he teased her clit with his tongue ceaselessly. He steadied her, hand firm on her hip.
“Sheldon!” That was for him. She whispered his name over and over, as he slipped his fingers inside her again and again. He repeated hers silently to himself as he thrust his hips up to meet his fist. In the real word, his motions grew jerky and his attention returned to a single point. He heard her cry out while his back arched. Thrusting his hips upward, as he found his release as he imagined hers.
As his shudders calmed and the sticky fluid from his climax washed away, he sighed. The mild discomfort of an abrasion on his left shin penetrated his consciousness. The duck sticker wouldn’t be ignored forever, apparently.
He let the water run over his limp body in rivulets a while longer. The he then got up and finished washing with his more usual efficiency.
*************
Bundled up and on his way back to his room he ran into Leonard. His roommate wore a robe of his own. Leonard pushed his glasses up his nose and gave Sheldon a quizzical look.
“Oh hello,” Sheldon began brightly, “you are up a bit earlier than usual.” He wondered if he needed to explain the budge of the lotion bottle sitting in the pocket of his robe. Couldn’t hurt. He took a breath…
Leonard raised a hand and shook his head. “Any hot water left?” He asked.
“Doubtful” Sheldon felt his cheeks heat and he looked at his feet.
“No problem. I’ll just read my email for a while.”
“Very well.” Sheldon returned to his room without further comment.