Cooking Lessons for Stfu_Pedochan
Title: Cooking Lessons
Characters/Pairing: Chrome/Bianchi
Rating: PG
Prompt: Bianchi/Chrome, cooking lessons much to the horror of everyone else. Bonding!
Summary: Bianchi is trying to teach Chrome to bake. Too bad Chrome keeps getting distracted.
Notes: I know it was supposed to be Bianchi/Chrome, but this was what I got in my head, so I ran with it. Please forgive me! :(
“A-Ano... Bianchi-san, I finished mixing the butter and sugar. What should I do next?”
Bianchi leaned over the girl's shoulder, missing how Chrome stiffened as her breasts brushed against her back. “Beat in two eggs and a tablespoon of vanilla, then start adding the flour, a little at a time.” She straightened, leaving the girl's shoulder feeling oddly cold once her weight was gone. “But don't over beat it, Dokuro-san, or else it'll get stiff!” She called back as she walked back to her half of the kitchen.
Chrome watched her go from the corner of her eye, sighing enviously. Bianchi was so... so perfect compared to her. She watched the older woman's hips sway with her movements as she cracked the eggs into the bowl. There was something about her that drew Chrome in like a flame, something so utterly confident that she knew she'd never be able to copy.
Sighing again, she turned the mixer on, the dull thrum of the motor drowning out Bianchi's humming. Giving it a chance to do it's work, she leaned against the counter, taking the opportunity to watch Bianchi openly, just for a few minutes. Her long red hair was tied back in a ponytail today, and as Chrome watched, she stretched, her hair slanting bright crimson across her shoulders and neck, accentuating the pale skin. Chrome glanced down at the mixer, licking suddenly dry lips. As she started sifting flour into the bowl, she wondered what Bianchi would taste like.
Movement just out of her line of sight caught her attention again, drawing her eyes back to the older woman. Bianchi was leaning over the counter, painstakingly decorating the cookies she'd already baked, and the change in her balance emphasized the underside of her breasts, gravity making the thin tank top ride up her hips and stomach. The exposed skin was just as smooth and flawless as the skin of her neck, and Chrome's fingers twitched, aching to see if it felt as soft and smooth as it looked. Her face was burning from blushing, but a shift in Bianchi's hips pulled her eyes down, along the curve of her waist; The Italian was long and lean, like a runway model, and all of her curves flowed into angles where there should have been fullness. The jeans she was wearing today were skin tight and low on Bianchi's hips; Chrome could see a flash of scarlet over the hem and her brain ground to a halt. She could see Bianchi's...!
The next thing Chrome knew, there was an angry whirring, the air was full of flour and half mixed dough, and Bianchi was leaning dangerously close as she reached over Chrome's shoulder to turn off the mixer. Her face felt even hotter when Bianchi eyed her in concern, leaning down to feel her forehead, and at the same time, giving Chrome a perfect vantage to look down her shirt. “You're burning up Dokuro-san! Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?” In what seemed like the blink of an eye, she found herself being hustled out of the kitchen, and made to lie down on the couch.
“B-But...”
“Rest! I'll make sure the boys save you some cookies.” Bianchi's smile was blinding and brooked no arguments; Chrome could only stare up at her in awe as the woman headed back into kitchen.
Of course, resting meant she could watch Bianchi as much as she wanted... a smile curled her lips as Bianchi started humming again.
Characters/Pairing: Chrome/Bianchi
Rating: PG
Prompt: Bianchi/Chrome, cooking lessons much to the horror of everyone else. Bonding!
Summary: Bianchi is trying to teach Chrome to bake. Too bad Chrome keeps getting distracted.
Notes: I know it was supposed to be Bianchi/Chrome, but this was what I got in my head, so I ran with it. Please forgive me! :(
“A-Ano... Bianchi-san, I finished mixing the butter and sugar. What should I do next?”
Bianchi leaned over the girl's shoulder, missing how Chrome stiffened as her breasts brushed against her back. “Beat in two eggs and a tablespoon of vanilla, then start adding the flour, a little at a time.” She straightened, leaving the girl's shoulder feeling oddly cold once her weight was gone. “But don't over beat it, Dokuro-san, or else it'll get stiff!” She called back as she walked back to her half of the kitchen.
Chrome watched her go from the corner of her eye, sighing enviously. Bianchi was so... so perfect compared to her. She watched the older woman's hips sway with her movements as she cracked the eggs into the bowl. There was something about her that drew Chrome in like a flame, something so utterly confident that she knew she'd never be able to copy.
Sighing again, she turned the mixer on, the dull thrum of the motor drowning out Bianchi's humming. Giving it a chance to do it's work, she leaned against the counter, taking the opportunity to watch Bianchi openly, just for a few minutes. Her long red hair was tied back in a ponytail today, and as Chrome watched, she stretched, her hair slanting bright crimson across her shoulders and neck, accentuating the pale skin. Chrome glanced down at the mixer, licking suddenly dry lips. As she started sifting flour into the bowl, she wondered what Bianchi would taste like.
Movement just out of her line of sight caught her attention again, drawing her eyes back to the older woman. Bianchi was leaning over the counter, painstakingly decorating the cookies she'd already baked, and the change in her balance emphasized the underside of her breasts, gravity making the thin tank top ride up her hips and stomach. The exposed skin was just as smooth and flawless as the skin of her neck, and Chrome's fingers twitched, aching to see if it felt as soft and smooth as it looked. Her face was burning from blushing, but a shift in Bianchi's hips pulled her eyes down, along the curve of her waist; The Italian was long and lean, like a runway model, and all of her curves flowed into angles where there should have been fullness. The jeans she was wearing today were skin tight and low on Bianchi's hips; Chrome could see a flash of scarlet over the hem and her brain ground to a halt. She could see Bianchi's...!
The next thing Chrome knew, there was an angry whirring, the air was full of flour and half mixed dough, and Bianchi was leaning dangerously close as she reached over Chrome's shoulder to turn off the mixer. Her face felt even hotter when Bianchi eyed her in concern, leaning down to feel her forehead, and at the same time, giving Chrome a perfect vantage to look down her shirt. “You're burning up Dokuro-san! Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?” In what seemed like the blink of an eye, she found herself being hustled out of the kitchen, and made to lie down on the couch.
“B-But...”
“Rest! I'll make sure the boys save you some cookies.” Bianchi's smile was blinding and brooked no arguments; Chrome could only stare up at her in awe as the woman headed back into kitchen.
Of course, resting meant she could watch Bianchi as much as she wanted... a smile curled her lips as Bianchi started humming again.