(Untitled)
Roderich wasn't really baking, per se.
Well, he was. But he'd lost track of time. Namely because his mind wasn't particularly on the subject of baking anymore.
The apricot glaze had been poured over the cake, then chilled, and there was just a little bit left over. He moved on to making the chocolate glaze to go over it. He'd always been skilled at ( Read more... )
Well, he was. But he'd lost track of time. Namely because his mind wasn't particularly on the subject of baking anymore.
The apricot glaze had been poured over the cake, then chilled, and there was just a little bit left over. He moved on to making the chocolate glaze to go over it. He'd always been skilled at ( Read more... )
He buried his face in her chest. Well, she didn't want to wait, right? "...on earth are you wearing" The fragmented words barely made their way out into coherent sound. It was a completely rhetorical question, meant only to emphasize how much he was enjoying the outfit. He reached behind her back and started tugging on the lacing to untie it. So tedious, but it was nevertheless one of his favorite things to do. He was a classical musician; of course he had both patience and passion for things that were... well, kind of drawn out. He gnawed gently at the swells of her cleavage until the corset was loosened. Throwing it aside and throwing caution to the wind, he pulled hard on her shirt until it too was removed.
He moved upright, grinning as he straddled her and unbuttoned and removed his shirt. He reached for the bowl, and he touched the whisk to his mouth as if he were really trying to figure out what to do next. God he was hard, damn it all.
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... Though the faceplant into her chest was a bit new, full-out laughing this time. Silly, the whole thing, but it was this light tone and atmosphere that made things so much nicer. "I thought you might approve." She retorted, more than happy to lift her back a bit off the bed to help him just-so-slightly to get the lacing undone. She wasn't adverse to the time it took, enjoying those fingers brushing against the skin of her back, causing far more shudders than she was likely to admit.
"Eager?" She questioned, one hand moving to play with a bit of his hair and encourage him to keep up those little gnawings, her breath accelerating already by this point, coupled with the softest of noises. The shirt was something she didn't particularly care about, easy enough to replace if she took the time to.
But when that shirt was removed she couldn't help but admire the few, the hand that had previously been playing with his hair sliding down to rest on his chest instead. "Are you going to make me wait?~" She tried to pout again, failing rather miserably considering the fact she was smirking a bit instead. "And I would think your poor body would appreciate you not suffocating it still, hm?"
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For now, though. Chocolate.
He could always make more of the glaze for the actual cake. It wasn't as if the possibility of a chocolate shortage was ever allowed in his household. The bowl was still warm; he had enough time to do this before it cooled. Grinning mischievously, trying to hold back a few chuckles of his own, he tilted the bowl, using the whisk to coax some of the warm, velvety liquid out. It landed between her breasts, trailing down and pooling in her navel.
He put the bowl back down and squeezed her wrists, pressing her hands against his chest before firmly moving them out of the way, pinning them at her sides. "Waiting? This has been on my mind since before you walked in, so rudely suggesting that I don't know how to bake..." He was lowering himself towards her all the while. "Besides, you of all people know how patient I am when it comes to that."
Slurp.
It wasn't the most graceful of sounds, no. But the act was tender, and really, it felt fantastic to feel as if he were devouring her. And chocolate did so nicely go with the taste of her skin. And sometimes, scraping his teeth proved to be more effective in cleaning her up.
...With a silent laugh, he took off his glasses and put them on the night stand as well. There. Now he could proceed without caution. And hell if he cared (at the moment) that there were dabs of chocolate all over the lower half of his face. A little on his nose, too.
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A soft gasp slipped from her lips as the warmth from the liquid melded with the warmth her body held, wriggling a bit beneath it all. It was a bit of a shock at first, but it didn't take long for her to be accustomed to the different heat and texture that worked with her skin just so.
"Oh come now, you know I wasn't seriously saying anything of the sort," her tone was almost indicative of a pout, though it never truly came to fruition.
Not that she had time for any more words, of course. Lips, tongue, and teeth against her body was always such a sensation that could literally take the words quickly from her mouth, which might have been a good thing considering how chatty she could get at times. A low moan of approval was met towards the actions, trying a little more desperately than she was willing to admit, to get more of that delightful feeling.
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Before he reached for the bowl again, he reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out an old cravat. It was clean, but very clearly old and worn, and he wasn't sure why he was even keeping it other than the fact that it felt wrong to just throw it out. There would be a use for it one day, he knew; well, that day was now.
He took the piece of cloth and with a smirk - a devilish grin he wanted to be the last thing she saw before he continued - he draped it over her eyes, lifting her head to tie it in the back.
Now he went for the bowl. Less cautiously this time, he poured more of the warm chocolate on her front. It spread over the swells of her breasts, and before it could drip onto the sheets, he nearly attacked her left breast with his mouth, lapping and sucking furiously at her nipple.
He stopped to admire her. "It's practically art," he said, only semi-facetiously. "Pity you can't see it." After a click of his tongue, he planted his lips on hers and kissed her, an obsessive groan escaping him, and he pinned her wrists to the bed.
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