Leigh!fic | Roxanne's Recipes (1/1) | Dean Thomas/Roxanne Weasley
Title: Roxanne's Recipes (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Dean Thomas/Roxanne Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Summary: Baking was cathartic. Soothing. Especially when done with Dean Thomas.
Author’s Notes: Written for this week's posting at hp_humpdrabbles.
Of all the Weasley grandchildren, Roxanne had the most talent in the kitchen -- took after her Grandmum Weasley that way (because Merlin knew, neither of her parents could boil water, let alone an egg). She found the measured structure of baking soothing; measuring, pouring, rolling out dough. The sweetness of a freshly baked biscuit, the cold butter cut into the dry ingredients.
Cathartic.
Especially when done with Dean Thomas.
Granted, when Dean was in the kitchen, she was more likely to wear nothing but an apron. There would be flour on her bum from where he'd hoist her onto the countertop and press between her legs. The ginger scones would wind up burnt to a crisp because the sound of her orgasm would drown out the oven timer. Her apron would fall to the floor, and there would be butter in her hair -- and really, she should protest because her family didn't know the meaning of 'boundaries' and could walk in at any minute.
But when his tongue was between her legs, the idea of baking -- or intruding Weasleys -- was the farthest thing from her mind.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Dean Thomas/Roxanne Weasley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200
Summary: Baking was cathartic. Soothing. Especially when done with Dean Thomas.
Author’s Notes: Written for this week's posting at hp_humpdrabbles.
Of all the Weasley grandchildren, Roxanne had the most talent in the kitchen -- took after her Grandmum Weasley that way (because Merlin knew, neither of her parents could boil water, let alone an egg). She found the measured structure of baking soothing; measuring, pouring, rolling out dough. The sweetness of a freshly baked biscuit, the cold butter cut into the dry ingredients.
Cathartic.
Especially when done with Dean Thomas.
Granted, when Dean was in the kitchen, she was more likely to wear nothing but an apron. There would be flour on her bum from where he'd hoist her onto the countertop and press between her legs. The ginger scones would wind up burnt to a crisp because the sound of her orgasm would drown out the oven timer. Her apron would fall to the floor, and there would be butter in her hair -- and really, she should protest because her family didn't know the meaning of 'boundaries' and could walk in at any minute.
But when his tongue was between her legs, the idea of baking -- or intruding Weasleys -- was the farthest thing from her mind.