Bahir
XF= 210 |Natalie| - Residences - Chemekata Military Base
The front door opens into a wide and airy space lit by full-length windows on the far wall. The California mountains spread lush beyond the glass, with the reservoir a glitter of light. To one side stands a coat closet, and to the other, a watercloset. A few steps further in, the kitchen curves around with a small stove, refrigerator, and sink. The counter wraps to form an island, beyond which the rest of the apartment is visible. The living area is wide-set with full length windows allowing California sunshine to spill across the thick carpet. Glass doors slide open, leading out onto a small stone terrace.
An alcove just past the kitchen counter opens to two rooms: one is a spare room, given over to any number of uses, while the other is the master suite, startlingly luxurious in choice of bathroom fixtures. The view from the large window in the bedroom is marvelous, sharing the same prospect as the living room.
Natalie is giggling as she pries open the tiny front to the toaster oven in her apartment with excess care. It's a sound that almost slides into a snicker, but giddier. On the counter beside her, a still-sealed tub of chocolate icing waits to be utilied. In her other hand, the smoldering remains of a joint fizzles near its end. "No way these are going to be any good at /all/," Natalie snickers (giggles!) to her companion as she bends to check the tiny pan that's been shoved inside. "It involves baking, me, and a /toaster/ oven." And a somewhat dubious recipe.
"That," says Bahir, hip and thigh resting on the counter as he half-sits, half-leans at the very end, "is why I am here." Shirt unbuttoned at the throat and rolled back from his wrists, he watches as Natalie checks on the pan with a faint grin. The stubbed remnants of a joint of his own rest in a saucer at his side. He is sooOOoo mellow. "Just don't burn yourself."
Natalie snickers in earnest this time and leans toward him, bumping a calf with the curve of her hip in mock indignation. It's ruined by the snickering. "Maybe /you/ should do this, then, Mr. Steady-hands," she suggests, turning toward him to cast a serious gaze down at his fingers. "Be of some /actual/ use."
Bahir presses the side of his leg back against Natalie, smile growing. "Maybe I /should/," he says, lifting his hands to wiggle his fingers at Natalie. That is not very steady. "I have totally been of use. I--." Big pause. He stops, thinking of the ways in which he has been useful, and then says, "--stirred."
Natalie's grin broadens, and she leans forward to snatch at Bahir's fingers with her own as the toaster oven stands open. "You're the lab rat biologist," she points out, wiggling sideways to stand in front of him as her other hand sneaks out, seeking to trap both of his in hers to stop them wiggling at her. "All those vials and chemicals and shit you use. Pouring. You should have /steady/ hands." Wiggling or no.
Bahir laces his fingers through Natalie's and squeezes as she grabs them, thwarting her attempt to pin them. He lifts his hands, retaining his grip on her, and forces her up on her toes. "I /do/ have steady hands. What is it that a mathematician is supposed to have? A steady brain? Not so much right now!" Pot helps.
"Hey hey!" Natalie objects, although she's still grinning as she does so. Her toes arch upward, carrying her toward Bahir's height as she leans into him to steady her balance. "Steady," she answers, her voice dropped to the hush of a stage whisper as she tiptoes upward toward the curve of Bahir's ear, "is overrated."
Bahir shifts, leaning in to drop his words down into the pale shell of Natalie's ear in echo of her: "Is not burning things overrated?" Laughter thickens the lightly accented words playing softly from his lipss
Natalie starts to laugh, her breath hot against the side of Bahir's neck as she collapses into him and buries her face there, breathing in the scent of his skin. "You should check the brownies," she murmurs to his throat.
Bahir drops one of his arms to wrap around Natalie's shoulders in a lazy embrace and reaches out with the other. His lean pulls her along with him as he stretches to catch a potholder to protect his hand and then pull the brownies out of the toaster oven. "They /look/ done," he says, eyeballing them.
Natalie wobbles a little, looping her arm up in exchange to brace into the lean. "Really?" she asks, her voice filled with dubious surprise as she turns her head to look over at the much-maligned sweets. Her ponytail manages to find Bahir's face in the midst of this. "Can we ice them, them? Because Bahir." She pulls back a little, expression and tone /very/ serious as she looks up at him. She blinks solemnly behind her glasses. "I am pretty sure I am not high enough already."
Bahir goes, "Pfft," as Natalie swipes her ponytails in his face, and tries (and fails) to bite the hairtie out of her hair. When she pulls away, he puts on his 'I wasn't biting your head' face and blinks back at her. "They have to cool," he says, fun-ruiner.
"Ow!" says Natalie as teeth catch a stray bit of hair. "What the hell, Bahir?" Her frown is fierce, and fiercely disappointed as she pulls away entirely, sliiiding away from the small kitchenette. "You are banned," she tells him.
"Banned? I'll get over it." Bahir holds his other hand over the surface of the brownies as Natalie slides away, and then pushes them onto a makeshift rack so that they will cool more quickly. "Oh, look: I'm over it!"
"You are a horrible person," Natalie declares, and moves to flop backwards over her couch. She lands with feet slung up over the back, head and ponytail dripping toward the floor. "I don't know why I hang out with you."
"Because I am brilliant and clever and funny and hot," Bahir says in a sing-song. He flings the potholder to go land up in the corner and double-checks to make sure the toaster oven is off. He is high, not stupid. Then he sliiides after Natalie, leaning over her with a hand around her legs. "And so are you. Only natural we should hang."
Natalie kicks her bare feet up, pushing against Bahir's chest as she grins up at him. "It's true," she allows. "Brilliant and clever and seriously fucking hot." There's a pause, and then she thinks to add (for better or worse), "Don't even consider tickling my feet."
"You know, I wasn't, until--!" Bahir shifts, pinning Natalie's legs against his chest with the wrap of an arm, and then bringing up his hand to slide his thumb along the inner arch of one of her feet. "Are you ticklish?" He is going to get kicked in the face.
Natalie's leg jerks back in hard reflex as she gasps in a hard breath and shoots her best glare up at her best friend. "Don't you /dare/!" she squeaks. Yes, she is. Yes, he is.
"So, that's a yes!" Bahir turns his hand to scratch the back of blunt nails ever so lightly along the soles of her feet. Countdown to kick in 10....
Natalie's foot jerks, not a kick so much as pure reflex as she gasps into helpless laughter. Whether or not that jerked foot finds Bahir's face or not...
Let's call it his chest, landing with a solid thump that causes him to let go and fall back a few paces. Startled into laughter, he rubs at his sternum. "Fuck, I forgot about that whole 'woman have strong legs' thing." The cure, then is to follow her down over the back of the couch, out of range of her feet as he slides in to poke at her midsection.
Natalie swings her legs down the instant Bahir stumbles backwards, stretching the length of the couch just about the time that Bahir advances. Her brows shoot up, arching high over plastic frames as she eyes him. "I work out," she reminds warily, hands lifted to ward him off. "I will /hurt you/ if you tickle me."
"Ohhhh, all right," Bahir says, and rolls past her to plop on the floor, cautious of hitting his head. "I work out, too," he sulks.
"Yeah, but you know I can kick your ass," Natalie answers, pushing up to slide over toward him so she can lean forward, draping herself against his back and looping her arms around his neck. "I'm terrifying," she confides seriously to his ear.
Bahir tips his head up and rolls a glance over at Natalie. A grin pulls at his features. "You aren't that bad," he assures her, looping an arm back behind his head to pat her shoulder. He ends up patting her neck. Good enough.
"/Terrifying/," Natalie exists, giving a very convincing growl to illustrate her point. Sadly, it ends up in a giggle, and she lowers her chin to settle it on his shoulder.
"Not so terrifying." Bahir claps her shoulder again, smile wide and lazy. "Pretty unterrifying, in fact. Squishy. I won't tell anyone. Promise."
"/Squishy/?" Natalie yelps, straightening away and giving Bahir's shoulder a shrug. "I am not /squishy/. You are /banned/."
"You are so squishy." Bahir turns, shifting around to face Natalie and fold his arms by her legs. "Is there a better word for it? I am sure there is. And why do you keep banning me? What are you, a server admin?"
"That," Natalie declares, leaning back and away from Bahir, "is the dorkiest thing you have ever said to me. And I am /hardass/." Her toe flicks over, bumping his leg. "Can we ice those yet?"
"You are ridiculous." Rising to his feet, Bahir draws away and then holds a hand down for Natalie. "Let's go see."
Natalie gives that hand a Look, but in the end, really, what choice does she have but to accept it? She reaches up, fingers wrapping around Bahir's, and tugs herself upward with a slow, sad sigh.
"See? Squishy." Bahir /flees/ for the kitchen.
Natalie sweeps after him, fists pummelling at his shoulders.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow--." Bahir pops open the icing and peels off the top, rattling around in her drawers for something to spread it with. He doesn't bother to see if the brownies have yet cooled off enough.
"Wuss," Natalie accuses, grinning. She leans back against the counter to the far side of the brownies, leaving Bahir to find the silverware for himself.
Holding the palm of his hand over the surface of the brownies, Bahir swirls his knife through the icing. "They are still too hot," he says, mournfully, and lifts a knife's worth of icing to eye it.
Natalie turns, half facing Bahir, half facing the brownies. She looks at the brownies. She looks at Bahir. She arches her brows, archly. "Don't you think you should have checked before you went scooping up the icing?"
"Well, too late now," Bahir says, waggling the icing around. A glob at the end threatens to drop.
"You're wasting it!" Natalie accuses, shooting a hand out to hover anxiously under the gloppy fudge icing.
The icing plops down onto Natalie's hand. Bahir withdraws the knife, sticking it back in the tub and squints at the icing judiciously. "Oops."
Natalie frowns, lifting her hand for a moment to study that smear of perfectly good icing at eye level. Then, swiftly, she smears a finger through it and darts up to plant a darling dollop of the same on the tip of Bahir's nose.
Bahir's eyes narrow. He sticks his tongue out as if to lick the icing off his nose, but doesn't even get /close/. "Just so you know," he says, wiping with the back of his hand, "I have the entire container of icing, right here." He lifts it, threat clear.
Natalie grins, gaze focused on that smudge of icing on Bahir's nose. "That wasn't very successful," she points out, gesturing carefully with her icing-smeared hand. "Your tongue is obviously lacking." She does not look at the container of icing. He /wouldn't/.
He would. Bahir thumbs a glob of icing off the knife and keeps the container at his side. "My tongue is not at /all/ lacking." He reaches across to smudge his thumb down Natalie's cheek.
Natalie's mouth falls open, eyes wide and disbelieving as she gapes at him. "You did /not/ just!" she accuses, standing stock-still for a moment's shock.
Bahir grins, popping his thumb into his mouth to lick the last of it from his skin. "I did," he says around it, slightly muffled.
With sudden speed, Natalie darts in sideways, grabbing for that container of icing.
Bahir dances backwards, container pulled in tight against his side. "Uh-uh!"
Natalie dances after him with ponytail flying behind her, reaching around this side, then that as she grabs for the icing. "You are going to /regret/ that!" she promises.
As Natalie grabs for the icing, Bahir dips the first two fingers of his hand in it, first. He paints a stripe down the length of her nose, so focused on that the icing just might slip from his hands.
Natalie yelps, her voice pitching toward a squeak as she stumbles forward and snatches the icing in the same instant that Bahir paints her nose. "Oooh, you /jackass/!" she accuses. Her own swipe with the fudge is less well-aimed, and a spiraling, chocolate-covered finger streaks the sugary stuff down the side of his neck (and onto the collar of that oh-so-nice shirt).
"Not the shirt!" Bahir yelps, pulling the collar out of the way of the swipe of her fingers, baring a wider triangle of golden skin. He threatens a swipe at Natalie's top, fingers sticky with icing.
"Ooooops," Natalie draws out, swirling her fingers through the icing again as she grins at Bahir, sticky-fudge hand held in front of her in grinning threat. She leans forward, her own hand dipping toward Bahir's in return. Who strikes first?
Bahir does, but he moves for Natalie's hand, rather than he shirt, to catch it and pull it up so that she can't smudge him. Pulling her hand up has the necessary side effect of drawing them together, and he moves his other arm to hold her still, wrapped around her waist. It's like they just did this, on the counter!
Natalie's eyes widen slightly, muscles tensed as she prepares to dodge a strike that never quite comes. When she settles against him, she's nearly breathless with laughter. Her icing-smeared hand twists in his, making a royal mess of fudge as she twines her fingers against his, and for a moment she simply grins up at him from close quarters. A heartbeat passes, and then Natalie leans in to plant a kiss on the tip of Bahir's nose, a tiny flick of her tongue sneaking a taste of the fudge icing. Lips and tongue now chocolate-sweet, she pulls back slightly to acknowledge, "Mmm."
"Mmm-hmm?" Bahir murmurs, encouraging further noise from Natalie as his features transform with a bright smile. His palm rests warm at the small of her back, holding her against him. He brings their joined hands down, kissing her knuckles as he watches her.
"Good... frosting," Natalie answers, her voice a low murmur as her eyes fix on the brush of his lips against her knuckles with lazy fascination. Her fingers still in his, gone entirely motionless for a moment. Her other hand, though, trips its way upward to find his elbow, then his bicep. It settles tentatively there, then more firmly, her fingers curving against his arm while she leans lazy-comfortable into him. She tilts her head to look up at him once more, a smile touching her lips with its pleased curve. Her thumb stirs to brush against his.
Bahir angles his head downward and dips to brush his lips across hers. Frosting still on his nose, he leaves a smudge on her cheek. The first touch is tentative: prelude and invitation as he waits for her response.
The lace of Natalie's fingers through Bahir's tightens in response, clinging reassurance of familiarity combined with the steadying leverage needed to keep her balanced. Her eyes flutter closed as she sinks into him, her free hand at his neck, twisting through his hair, pressing against the curve of his skull. Her response is not tentative, but slow all the same as her lips touch and taste the shape of his. It's quiet and fudge-sweetened, kept company by the quiet exhale of a sigh that carries in it relief for the inevitable.
The hard bar of Bahir's arm across Natalie's back tightens as he pulls her against his chest. The ever-present warmth of his skin burns with desert heat, building where their bodies touch. The quiet of the gentle beginning opens into a growing hunger as his lips part, teeth light on her lips. He moves against her, stepping forward to push her back against the counter. He turns his head, kissing the corner of her lips, her cheek, her nose, and licking just slightly at the chocolate smeared on her skin. At the last, he grins, and opens his eyes to look down at her.
Natalie breathes in deep and quick as she steps back into the counter, her hand hard and eager at the nape of his neck. She uses the leverage of it to push up into Bahir, surging into that desert heat and devouring it with the eager press of her lips. Her breath quickens and catches in her throat at the touch of his tongue, and the heavy weight of want, of need, of all-consuming /desire/ presses at the front of her mind. At the pause, her eyes open to meet his, and for a moment she simply looks up at him with eyes gone dark and wide behind her glasses. It doesn't last long. Half a second - half a breath, half a heartbeat - and then she's leaning into him again, pressing her lips to his throat and trailing tiny kisses down the side of his neck to nibble away sweet frosting.
For a moment, Bahir lets her. He tips his head to the side, sweep of dark hair fallen away from his features and the collar of his shirt gaping wide. But it is only for a moment. The next, he slides his hand from Natalie's back to her thigh and brings the other, still sticky, to the other side. He picks her up, easy as that, to set her at the edge of the counter. His eyes are dark and smoky with desire. He lifts his frosting-free hand up to slide through her ponytail, and then undo it, while he curls back of his other hand against her stomach. Her glasses follow, lifted and folded away so carefully as he presses a kiss to her bared brow.
Natalie murmurs a sound of protest, but it's for the momentary loss of Bahir's heat, not the frosting-sticky fingers against her jeans and the cotton of her tee. She reaches for him as he loosens her hair. Freed, it tumbles dark and heavy down her back. His shirt is lost to frosting now as she tugs at both shoulders and draws him in. Her legs latch tight around his waist, locking him there as she finds his hand with hers again and lifts it to her lips to draw his fingers into her mouth, lightly sucking the sweet stickiness away.
Breath catching in his throat, Bahir's fingers curl with the slightest twitch of a reaction. He shivers, and whispers a soft sound that might be her name. His thumb brushes her cheek and her jaw in a greedy continuation of touch and his free hand curls through the heavy weight of her hair. He pulls back on it just slightly, tipping her head. His fingers to her lips, he drags his mouth down her throat, kissing, biting, sucking and leaving a trail of marks. The cooling brownies will get eaten, eventually, but the icing is probably a lost cause.
Natalie tilts her head with the slightest urging, baring her throat for the touch of lips and teeth. Her legs tighten around Bahir's hips, tugging him into her as she arches into him with a murmur that might be his name in reply. Her hands are hot against his back, pulling his shirt up and then dipping down to tease dangerously at the waistband of his pants. Eventually she pulls her head back, lifting her hands to frame Bahir's face as she draws him up for a long, hard kiss. The heated slide of her tongue against him begs to differ - the icing is /anything/ but a lost cause.
Druggies.
The front door opens into a wide and airy space lit by full-length windows on the far wall. The California mountains spread lush beyond the glass, with the reservoir a glitter of light. To one side stands a coat closet, and to the other, a watercloset. A few steps further in, the kitchen curves around with a small stove, refrigerator, and sink. The counter wraps to form an island, beyond which the rest of the apartment is visible. The living area is wide-set with full length windows allowing California sunshine to spill across the thick carpet. Glass doors slide open, leading out onto a small stone terrace.
An alcove just past the kitchen counter opens to two rooms: one is a spare room, given over to any number of uses, while the other is the master suite, startlingly luxurious in choice of bathroom fixtures. The view from the large window in the bedroom is marvelous, sharing the same prospect as the living room.
Natalie is giggling as she pries open the tiny front to the toaster oven in her apartment with excess care. It's a sound that almost slides into a snicker, but giddier. On the counter beside her, a still-sealed tub of chocolate icing waits to be utilied. In her other hand, the smoldering remains of a joint fizzles near its end. "No way these are going to be any good at /all/," Natalie snickers (giggles!) to her companion as she bends to check the tiny pan that's been shoved inside. "It involves baking, me, and a /toaster/ oven." And a somewhat dubious recipe.
"That," says Bahir, hip and thigh resting on the counter as he half-sits, half-leans at the very end, "is why I am here." Shirt unbuttoned at the throat and rolled back from his wrists, he watches as Natalie checks on the pan with a faint grin. The stubbed remnants of a joint of his own rest in a saucer at his side. He is sooOOoo mellow. "Just don't burn yourself."
Natalie snickers in earnest this time and leans toward him, bumping a calf with the curve of her hip in mock indignation. It's ruined by the snickering. "Maybe /you/ should do this, then, Mr. Steady-hands," she suggests, turning toward him to cast a serious gaze down at his fingers. "Be of some /actual/ use."
Bahir presses the side of his leg back against Natalie, smile growing. "Maybe I /should/," he says, lifting his hands to wiggle his fingers at Natalie. That is not very steady. "I have totally been of use. I--." Big pause. He stops, thinking of the ways in which he has been useful, and then says, "--stirred."
Natalie's grin broadens, and she leans forward to snatch at Bahir's fingers with her own as the toaster oven stands open. "You're the lab rat biologist," she points out, wiggling sideways to stand in front of him as her other hand sneaks out, seeking to trap both of his in hers to stop them wiggling at her. "All those vials and chemicals and shit you use. Pouring. You should have /steady/ hands." Wiggling or no.
Bahir laces his fingers through Natalie's and squeezes as she grabs them, thwarting her attempt to pin them. He lifts his hands, retaining his grip on her, and forces her up on her toes. "I /do/ have steady hands. What is it that a mathematician is supposed to have? A steady brain? Not so much right now!" Pot helps.
"Hey hey!" Natalie objects, although she's still grinning as she does so. Her toes arch upward, carrying her toward Bahir's height as she leans into him to steady her balance. "Steady," she answers, her voice dropped to the hush of a stage whisper as she tiptoes upward toward the curve of Bahir's ear, "is overrated."
Bahir shifts, leaning in to drop his words down into the pale shell of Natalie's ear in echo of her: "Is not burning things overrated?" Laughter thickens the lightly accented words playing softly from his lipss
Natalie starts to laugh, her breath hot against the side of Bahir's neck as she collapses into him and buries her face there, breathing in the scent of his skin. "You should check the brownies," she murmurs to his throat.
Bahir drops one of his arms to wrap around Natalie's shoulders in a lazy embrace and reaches out with the other. His lean pulls her along with him as he stretches to catch a potholder to protect his hand and then pull the brownies out of the toaster oven. "They /look/ done," he says, eyeballing them.
Natalie wobbles a little, looping her arm up in exchange to brace into the lean. "Really?" she asks, her voice filled with dubious surprise as she turns her head to look over at the much-maligned sweets. Her ponytail manages to find Bahir's face in the midst of this. "Can we ice them, them? Because Bahir." She pulls back a little, expression and tone /very/ serious as she looks up at him. She blinks solemnly behind her glasses. "I am pretty sure I am not high enough already."
Bahir goes, "Pfft," as Natalie swipes her ponytails in his face, and tries (and fails) to bite the hairtie out of her hair. When she pulls away, he puts on his 'I wasn't biting your head' face and blinks back at her. "They have to cool," he says, fun-ruiner.
"Ow!" says Natalie as teeth catch a stray bit of hair. "What the hell, Bahir?" Her frown is fierce, and fiercely disappointed as she pulls away entirely, sliiiding away from the small kitchenette. "You are banned," she tells him.
"Banned? I'll get over it." Bahir holds his other hand over the surface of the brownies as Natalie slides away, and then pushes them onto a makeshift rack so that they will cool more quickly. "Oh, look: I'm over it!"
"You are a horrible person," Natalie declares, and moves to flop backwards over her couch. She lands with feet slung up over the back, head and ponytail dripping toward the floor. "I don't know why I hang out with you."
"Because I am brilliant and clever and funny and hot," Bahir says in a sing-song. He flings the potholder to go land up in the corner and double-checks to make sure the toaster oven is off. He is high, not stupid. Then he sliiides after Natalie, leaning over her with a hand around her legs. "And so are you. Only natural we should hang."
Natalie kicks her bare feet up, pushing against Bahir's chest as she grins up at him. "It's true," she allows. "Brilliant and clever and seriously fucking hot." There's a pause, and then she thinks to add (for better or worse), "Don't even consider tickling my feet."
"You know, I wasn't, until--!" Bahir shifts, pinning Natalie's legs against his chest with the wrap of an arm, and then bringing up his hand to slide his thumb along the inner arch of one of her feet. "Are you ticklish?" He is going to get kicked in the face.
Natalie's leg jerks back in hard reflex as she gasps in a hard breath and shoots her best glare up at her best friend. "Don't you /dare/!" she squeaks. Yes, she is. Yes, he is.
"So, that's a yes!" Bahir turns his hand to scratch the back of blunt nails ever so lightly along the soles of her feet. Countdown to kick in 10....
Natalie's foot jerks, not a kick so much as pure reflex as she gasps into helpless laughter. Whether or not that jerked foot finds Bahir's face or not...
Let's call it his chest, landing with a solid thump that causes him to let go and fall back a few paces. Startled into laughter, he rubs at his sternum. "Fuck, I forgot about that whole 'woman have strong legs' thing." The cure, then is to follow her down over the back of the couch, out of range of her feet as he slides in to poke at her midsection.
Natalie swings her legs down the instant Bahir stumbles backwards, stretching the length of the couch just about the time that Bahir advances. Her brows shoot up, arching high over plastic frames as she eyes him. "I work out," she reminds warily, hands lifted to ward him off. "I will /hurt you/ if you tickle me."
"Ohhhh, all right," Bahir says, and rolls past her to plop on the floor, cautious of hitting his head. "I work out, too," he sulks.
"Yeah, but you know I can kick your ass," Natalie answers, pushing up to slide over toward him so she can lean forward, draping herself against his back and looping her arms around his neck. "I'm terrifying," she confides seriously to his ear.
Bahir tips his head up and rolls a glance over at Natalie. A grin pulls at his features. "You aren't that bad," he assures her, looping an arm back behind his head to pat her shoulder. He ends up patting her neck. Good enough.
"/Terrifying/," Natalie exists, giving a very convincing growl to illustrate her point. Sadly, it ends up in a giggle, and she lowers her chin to settle it on his shoulder.
"Not so terrifying." Bahir claps her shoulder again, smile wide and lazy. "Pretty unterrifying, in fact. Squishy. I won't tell anyone. Promise."
"/Squishy/?" Natalie yelps, straightening away and giving Bahir's shoulder a shrug. "I am not /squishy/. You are /banned/."
"You are so squishy." Bahir turns, shifting around to face Natalie and fold his arms by her legs. "Is there a better word for it? I am sure there is. And why do you keep banning me? What are you, a server admin?"
"That," Natalie declares, leaning back and away from Bahir, "is the dorkiest thing you have ever said to me. And I am /hardass/." Her toe flicks over, bumping his leg. "Can we ice those yet?"
"You are ridiculous." Rising to his feet, Bahir draws away and then holds a hand down for Natalie. "Let's go see."
Natalie gives that hand a Look, but in the end, really, what choice does she have but to accept it? She reaches up, fingers wrapping around Bahir's, and tugs herself upward with a slow, sad sigh.
"See? Squishy." Bahir /flees/ for the kitchen.
Natalie sweeps after him, fists pummelling at his shoulders.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow--." Bahir pops open the icing and peels off the top, rattling around in her drawers for something to spread it with. He doesn't bother to see if the brownies have yet cooled off enough.
"Wuss," Natalie accuses, grinning. She leans back against the counter to the far side of the brownies, leaving Bahir to find the silverware for himself.
Holding the palm of his hand over the surface of the brownies, Bahir swirls his knife through the icing. "They are still too hot," he says, mournfully, and lifts a knife's worth of icing to eye it.
Natalie turns, half facing Bahir, half facing the brownies. She looks at the brownies. She looks at Bahir. She arches her brows, archly. "Don't you think you should have checked before you went scooping up the icing?"
"Well, too late now," Bahir says, waggling the icing around. A glob at the end threatens to drop.
"You're wasting it!" Natalie accuses, shooting a hand out to hover anxiously under the gloppy fudge icing.
The icing plops down onto Natalie's hand. Bahir withdraws the knife, sticking it back in the tub and squints at the icing judiciously. "Oops."
Natalie frowns, lifting her hand for a moment to study that smear of perfectly good icing at eye level. Then, swiftly, she smears a finger through it and darts up to plant a darling dollop of the same on the tip of Bahir's nose.
Bahir's eyes narrow. He sticks his tongue out as if to lick the icing off his nose, but doesn't even get /close/. "Just so you know," he says, wiping with the back of his hand, "I have the entire container of icing, right here." He lifts it, threat clear.
Natalie grins, gaze focused on that smudge of icing on Bahir's nose. "That wasn't very successful," she points out, gesturing carefully with her icing-smeared hand. "Your tongue is obviously lacking." She does not look at the container of icing. He /wouldn't/.
He would. Bahir thumbs a glob of icing off the knife and keeps the container at his side. "My tongue is not at /all/ lacking." He reaches across to smudge his thumb down Natalie's cheek.
Natalie's mouth falls open, eyes wide and disbelieving as she gapes at him. "You did /not/ just!" she accuses, standing stock-still for a moment's shock.
Bahir grins, popping his thumb into his mouth to lick the last of it from his skin. "I did," he says around it, slightly muffled.
With sudden speed, Natalie darts in sideways, grabbing for that container of icing.
Bahir dances backwards, container pulled in tight against his side. "Uh-uh!"
Natalie dances after him with ponytail flying behind her, reaching around this side, then that as she grabs for the icing. "You are going to /regret/ that!" she promises.
As Natalie grabs for the icing, Bahir dips the first two fingers of his hand in it, first. He paints a stripe down the length of her nose, so focused on that the icing just might slip from his hands.
Natalie yelps, her voice pitching toward a squeak as she stumbles forward and snatches the icing in the same instant that Bahir paints her nose. "Oooh, you /jackass/!" she accuses. Her own swipe with the fudge is less well-aimed, and a spiraling, chocolate-covered finger streaks the sugary stuff down the side of his neck (and onto the collar of that oh-so-nice shirt).
"Not the shirt!" Bahir yelps, pulling the collar out of the way of the swipe of her fingers, baring a wider triangle of golden skin. He threatens a swipe at Natalie's top, fingers sticky with icing.
"Ooooops," Natalie draws out, swirling her fingers through the icing again as she grins at Bahir, sticky-fudge hand held in front of her in grinning threat. She leans forward, her own hand dipping toward Bahir's in return. Who strikes first?
Bahir does, but he moves for Natalie's hand, rather than he shirt, to catch it and pull it up so that she can't smudge him. Pulling her hand up has the necessary side effect of drawing them together, and he moves his other arm to hold her still, wrapped around her waist. It's like they just did this, on the counter!
Natalie's eyes widen slightly, muscles tensed as she prepares to dodge a strike that never quite comes. When she settles against him, she's nearly breathless with laughter. Her icing-smeared hand twists in his, making a royal mess of fudge as she twines her fingers against his, and for a moment she simply grins up at him from close quarters. A heartbeat passes, and then Natalie leans in to plant a kiss on the tip of Bahir's nose, a tiny flick of her tongue sneaking a taste of the fudge icing. Lips and tongue now chocolate-sweet, she pulls back slightly to acknowledge, "Mmm."
"Mmm-hmm?" Bahir murmurs, encouraging further noise from Natalie as his features transform with a bright smile. His palm rests warm at the small of her back, holding her against him. He brings their joined hands down, kissing her knuckles as he watches her.
"Good... frosting," Natalie answers, her voice a low murmur as her eyes fix on the brush of his lips against her knuckles with lazy fascination. Her fingers still in his, gone entirely motionless for a moment. Her other hand, though, trips its way upward to find his elbow, then his bicep. It settles tentatively there, then more firmly, her fingers curving against his arm while she leans lazy-comfortable into him. She tilts her head to look up at him once more, a smile touching her lips with its pleased curve. Her thumb stirs to brush against his.
Bahir angles his head downward and dips to brush his lips across hers. Frosting still on his nose, he leaves a smudge on her cheek. The first touch is tentative: prelude and invitation as he waits for her response.
The lace of Natalie's fingers through Bahir's tightens in response, clinging reassurance of familiarity combined with the steadying leverage needed to keep her balanced. Her eyes flutter closed as she sinks into him, her free hand at his neck, twisting through his hair, pressing against the curve of his skull. Her response is not tentative, but slow all the same as her lips touch and taste the shape of his. It's quiet and fudge-sweetened, kept company by the quiet exhale of a sigh that carries in it relief for the inevitable.
The hard bar of Bahir's arm across Natalie's back tightens as he pulls her against his chest. The ever-present warmth of his skin burns with desert heat, building where their bodies touch. The quiet of the gentle beginning opens into a growing hunger as his lips part, teeth light on her lips. He moves against her, stepping forward to push her back against the counter. He turns his head, kissing the corner of her lips, her cheek, her nose, and licking just slightly at the chocolate smeared on her skin. At the last, he grins, and opens his eyes to look down at her.
Natalie breathes in deep and quick as she steps back into the counter, her hand hard and eager at the nape of his neck. She uses the leverage of it to push up into Bahir, surging into that desert heat and devouring it with the eager press of her lips. Her breath quickens and catches in her throat at the touch of his tongue, and the heavy weight of want, of need, of all-consuming /desire/ presses at the front of her mind. At the pause, her eyes open to meet his, and for a moment she simply looks up at him with eyes gone dark and wide behind her glasses. It doesn't last long. Half a second - half a breath, half a heartbeat - and then she's leaning into him again, pressing her lips to his throat and trailing tiny kisses down the side of his neck to nibble away sweet frosting.
For a moment, Bahir lets her. He tips his head to the side, sweep of dark hair fallen away from his features and the collar of his shirt gaping wide. But it is only for a moment. The next, he slides his hand from Natalie's back to her thigh and brings the other, still sticky, to the other side. He picks her up, easy as that, to set her at the edge of the counter. His eyes are dark and smoky with desire. He lifts his frosting-free hand up to slide through her ponytail, and then undo it, while he curls back of his other hand against her stomach. Her glasses follow, lifted and folded away so carefully as he presses a kiss to her bared brow.
Natalie murmurs a sound of protest, but it's for the momentary loss of Bahir's heat, not the frosting-sticky fingers against her jeans and the cotton of her tee. She reaches for him as he loosens her hair. Freed, it tumbles dark and heavy down her back. His shirt is lost to frosting now as she tugs at both shoulders and draws him in. Her legs latch tight around his waist, locking him there as she finds his hand with hers again and lifts it to her lips to draw his fingers into her mouth, lightly sucking the sweet stickiness away.
Breath catching in his throat, Bahir's fingers curl with the slightest twitch of a reaction. He shivers, and whispers a soft sound that might be her name. His thumb brushes her cheek and her jaw in a greedy continuation of touch and his free hand curls through the heavy weight of her hair. He pulls back on it just slightly, tipping her head. His fingers to her lips, he drags his mouth down her throat, kissing, biting, sucking and leaving a trail of marks. The cooling brownies will get eaten, eventually, but the icing is probably a lost cause.
Natalie tilts her head with the slightest urging, baring her throat for the touch of lips and teeth. Her legs tighten around Bahir's hips, tugging him into her as she arches into him with a murmur that might be his name in reply. Her hands are hot against his back, pulling his shirt up and then dipping down to tease dangerously at the waistband of his pants. Eventually she pulls her head back, lifting her hands to frame Bahir's face as she draws him up for a long, hard kiss. The heated slide of her tongue against him begs to differ - the icing is /anything/ but a lost cause.
Druggies.