house-warming; a pandora/bellerophon mythfic
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another in my series of "mythfics", to borrow the term from my darling etzyofi. In order to fully appreciate these, be sure to at the casting picspams.)
CAST:
MATT SMITH as BELLEROPHON | KAREN GILLAN as PANDORA
house-warming, a pandora/bellerophon mythfic, pg-13
They've finally taken the next big step in their relationship; and to celebrate, Pandora has a nice surprise planned... (written for professor_spork)
“How do you like the wrapping?” she asked, pushing herself up slightly, back arching in a way that made quite a lot of him stand to attention. “I’m very particular about getting the bows even, you know.” (1,832 words)
There was a note taped to the front door. He pulled his sunglasses off and squinted at the blocky, dramatic writing. I’m in the bedroom with your house-warming present.
He flicked the lock home-something told him they wouldn’t be leaving again tonight-and dropped his cane onto the umbrella stand, tossed his hat onto the coat rack. Already the place was beginning to feel more like theirs rather than just his. Her scarves draped over the rack, her easel leaning against the wall by the door, the room scented with pumpkin spice from the candle she’d picked up the day before. A smile crept over him when he realized how much warmer everything felt. There was a vibrancy Pandora carried with her that seeped into walls and floors, permeating everything with deep, rich color. You could practically breathe it in, or taste it on your tongue.
“What’s this about a house-warming present?” he called, pausing in the kitchen for a glass of water. It was nearly 7 o’clock, and he was an hour past his prescribed pain pill. He swallowed the thing with a hasty gulp of water, set the glass back onto the counter with a heavy thunk, and made his way slowly down the hall. The best thing to be said for his foul-tasting medication was that it worked quickly; the aches that had been building in his knees with the chill weather would be gone in minutes. “I rather think you’ve gotten the concept a little confused, Cheshire. House-warming gifts are supposed to be when you move into a new place. I’ve been here for several months-if anything, I should be the one giving you-”
He froze in the doorway to the bedroom. The overhead light was off. The only illumination can from the many candles she’d placed around the bed, on the book shelves and dresser and nightstands. The bed sheets were pushed back and she lay stretched out in a black corset, matching lace panties, and thigh-high tights. She twirled a long strand of hair around her finger, the candlelight casting flickering gold highlights over the ruddy bronze.
“Hello,” she said simply with a smile.
He was already unbuttoning his shirt, jacket dropped in a wrinkled heap at his feet. “I do believe this is the very nicest present I’ve ever gotten. Golly gee, but I must have been a good boy this year.”
“How do you like the wrapping?” she asked, pushing herself up slightly, back arching in a way that made quite a lot of him stand to attention. “I’m very particular about getting the bows even, you know.”
“Love the wrapping. Fabulous job with the wrapping. Though I must admit I’m most looking forward to the unwrapping.”
“And do we feel up to playing with our present tonight?” asked Pandora, hair tumbling over her shoulders as she crawled across the bed to him. She paused at the edge, looking up at him quite seriously, searching for any hint of a wince or a twinge.
“Feeling good. Feeling fine,” he assured her readily. “Took my pill, looked at you, and I’m currently floating a few stories about Cloud Nine now. No worries on that count, Red.” He pulled his shirt off as she reached out for his belt, unbuckling it with two smooth movements before pulling it from his belt-loops with a silky shhhh.
“My, we’re feeling a bit of a minx tonight, aren’t we?” he said, voice ending in something of a growl as she slipped her warm hands down his pants, brushing down the length of him as she pushed away the constricting fabric. She giggled as he stepped awkwardly out of the legs-there would never be a smooth or sexy way for a guy to get out of pants like that-but then he’d covered her glossy mouth with his and smothered her giggles on his tongue. She slid back across the bed, drawing him along with her.
He tried to untie the corset while kissing her, but that soon proved a futile effort. It was the sort of job that required a pair of focused eyes and a steady set of hands. She lay back and giggled as he carefully unknotted the laces.
“You’re lucky I’m so confident about my prowess,” he said. “The way you always giggle in bed. A less certain man would think he was being mocked.”
“Never ever!” she said quickly through her laughter. “It’s just that you make the most precious faces when you’re concentrating.”
“Why in the seven levels of hell did you have to tie this so tight?” he demanded.
“A corset’s no good loose,” she countered. “The whole point is to maximize the cleavage. And besides: I didn’t want to make it too easy for you. You have to work for this present.”
“Oh, I can very well guarantee that,” he said in a throaty voice that made her burn. “Old Bello is known for his work ethic and commitment to achievement, didn’t you know that, Red?”
“Less talk and more action,” she said, sliding her leg up between his, making him close his eyes with a shudder at the slow touch. “You know the sort of girl I am, Bell.”
Bello knew how to treat a girl, but since that fateful accident it could sometimes be… difficult. Pandora had learned this quickly, and had an almost uncanny knack for knowing just what to do and when to do it. He could never top for long-it wasn’t that he lacked the stamina or will, but his legs and back simply couldn’t take the strain. But just when he’d start to tremble, that telltale first sign that his legs would soon give out, Pandora would gracefully slide and maneuver, swinging her leg over his hip as she pulled his arm, and he would find himself looking up at her as if by magic.
“I do believe those are the nicest set of breasts in the country,” he said devoutly, hands moving up over her pale stomach, cupping the objects of his current attention. “I should buy you a plaque saying as much. Breasts like these deserve to be properly lauded.”
“I like the way you admire them plenty-who needs a plaque when you-” Her sentence cut off in a gasp as his thumb slipped over one nipple in a soft circular motion. Her thighs tightened around him, returning the favor by robbing him of breath.
“You’re, God, you’re just something else, miss,” he said devoutly.
“Oh?” She shifted, the curve of her hip crashing against his.
“Almost… almost too hot to touch.” He thrust sharply, hand hard against her ribs, and she cried out as she bucked beneath him.
“You were never one to heed warning labels,” she said somewhat breathlessly.
“Nor you, if we’re being frankly cheeky here. Don’t ride, don’t open, don’t touch… Things that never applied to us.” She loved the way his brow furrowed with concentration, the way he bit his lip almost absentmindedly, the way his hair fell over his eyes.
“Life’s less fun when you’re cautious.” He slid his hand over her shoulder, to her neck, and cupped her head, thumb warm against the line of her jaw. With the next thrust she grabbed at his arm, rising from the pillow to catch his lips with hers. In the haze and rush, it was hard to tell where she ended and he began; but the next movement brought them both to the edge.
They lay tangled, in limbs and sheets, until the sweat had cooled on their skin. Eventually he pushed himself up onto an elbow, square chin resting in the cup of his hand. He just looked at her, an enigmatic half-smile on his face. There was hair caught in her eyelashes and her body felt like it was thrumming, a wire under high tension, just shy of giving off sparks. That was how it always was, after-no man had ever made her burn like Bellerophon.
“So?” she finally said, breaking the warm, lazy silence.
“Hmm?”
“Did you like your present? Not to be pushy, but I was sort of holding out for a thank you.”
“I don’t think you were holding out at all,” he said, voice an octave deeper than usual. “And I hope I showed my gratitude properly.”
“Well, yes, be that as it may be. A little thank you wouldn’t go amiss.”
“For moving in with me?”
“Yep.”
“Alright then.” He shifted beside her. Slid his other arm around her waist, fingertips drumming a soft beat against the curve. “Thank you, my red lady of fire and spice and other saucy things. Thank you, o artist of my heart, for bringing your glorious legs and turpentine and smile into my life on a more permanent basis. Thank you for sharing my bed, and helping me buy groceries, and for reprogramming my DVR, and for always making sure I take my pills and am more careful with my boozing. You, to put it more simply, are the light of my life. The fire of my loins. The cream in my coffee. The feather in my unfortunate poet cap. And I appreciate you every moment that I look at you. Even if you do tell the most dreadfully unfunny jokes. And hog all of the duvet.”
She had started laughing halfway through, and by the end was almost crying over the seriousness of his expression coupled with the ridiculous speech.
“Oh, Bell,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck in a suffocating hug. “I fancy you, too.”
“Now could we perhaps make some tea and sandwiches? I haven’t eaten since noon and I’m famished. Even more so now.”
“Alright.” She pulled roughly at the bedsheets, nearly tipping him over the edge of the bed. He grabbed at the mattress with an undignified squawk, setting her off into another peal of laughter. “Sorry, sweetie. Can you hand me my robe?”
“Robe? Oh you mean this robe?” He held up the garment in question, which had been draped over the back of a chair.
“That’s the one.”
“Ah, but it’s so warm in here, Red. Do you really need this old thing?” He grinned, and it was a very slow, highly suggestive grin.
“If that’s how you want to play it,” she said archly, hands on her hips. “But if I get at all singed by the kettle, it’ll be on your head.”
“Yessum,” he said, breaking into a toothy smile.
“And not in the fun way.”
“Yessum.”
“…Do you want ham or turkey in your sandwich?”
“Surprise me, Cheshire. You’re good at that.”
“Alright.” She smiled, beckoned him with a finger, and sauntered casually out of the room with a downright hypnotic sway.
Bellerophon paused for the shortest second to look up at the invisible heavens. “Whoever’s looking out for me? Thanks a million.”
He did, however, stop just shy of rubbing his hands with maniacal delight.
CAST:
MATT SMITH as BELLEROPHON | KAREN GILLAN as PANDORA
house-warming, a pandora/bellerophon mythfic, pg-13
They've finally taken the next big step in their relationship; and to celebrate, Pandora has a nice surprise planned... (written for professor_spork)
“How do you like the wrapping?” she asked, pushing herself up slightly, back arching in a way that made quite a lot of him stand to attention. “I’m very particular about getting the bows even, you know.” (1,832 words)
There was a note taped to the front door. He pulled his sunglasses off and squinted at the blocky, dramatic writing. I’m in the bedroom with your house-warming present.
He flicked the lock home-something told him they wouldn’t be leaving again tonight-and dropped his cane onto the umbrella stand, tossed his hat onto the coat rack. Already the place was beginning to feel more like theirs rather than just his. Her scarves draped over the rack, her easel leaning against the wall by the door, the room scented with pumpkin spice from the candle she’d picked up the day before. A smile crept over him when he realized how much warmer everything felt. There was a vibrancy Pandora carried with her that seeped into walls and floors, permeating everything with deep, rich color. You could practically breathe it in, or taste it on your tongue.
“What’s this about a house-warming present?” he called, pausing in the kitchen for a glass of water. It was nearly 7 o’clock, and he was an hour past his prescribed pain pill. He swallowed the thing with a hasty gulp of water, set the glass back onto the counter with a heavy thunk, and made his way slowly down the hall. The best thing to be said for his foul-tasting medication was that it worked quickly; the aches that had been building in his knees with the chill weather would be gone in minutes. “I rather think you’ve gotten the concept a little confused, Cheshire. House-warming gifts are supposed to be when you move into a new place. I’ve been here for several months-if anything, I should be the one giving you-”
He froze in the doorway to the bedroom. The overhead light was off. The only illumination can from the many candles she’d placed around the bed, on the book shelves and dresser and nightstands. The bed sheets were pushed back and she lay stretched out in a black corset, matching lace panties, and thigh-high tights. She twirled a long strand of hair around her finger, the candlelight casting flickering gold highlights over the ruddy bronze.
“Hello,” she said simply with a smile.
He was already unbuttoning his shirt, jacket dropped in a wrinkled heap at his feet. “I do believe this is the very nicest present I’ve ever gotten. Golly gee, but I must have been a good boy this year.”
“How do you like the wrapping?” she asked, pushing herself up slightly, back arching in a way that made quite a lot of him stand to attention. “I’m very particular about getting the bows even, you know.”
“Love the wrapping. Fabulous job with the wrapping. Though I must admit I’m most looking forward to the unwrapping.”
“And do we feel up to playing with our present tonight?” asked Pandora, hair tumbling over her shoulders as she crawled across the bed to him. She paused at the edge, looking up at him quite seriously, searching for any hint of a wince or a twinge.
“Feeling good. Feeling fine,” he assured her readily. “Took my pill, looked at you, and I’m currently floating a few stories about Cloud Nine now. No worries on that count, Red.” He pulled his shirt off as she reached out for his belt, unbuckling it with two smooth movements before pulling it from his belt-loops with a silky shhhh.
“My, we’re feeling a bit of a minx tonight, aren’t we?” he said, voice ending in something of a growl as she slipped her warm hands down his pants, brushing down the length of him as she pushed away the constricting fabric. She giggled as he stepped awkwardly out of the legs-there would never be a smooth or sexy way for a guy to get out of pants like that-but then he’d covered her glossy mouth with his and smothered her giggles on his tongue. She slid back across the bed, drawing him along with her.
He tried to untie the corset while kissing her, but that soon proved a futile effort. It was the sort of job that required a pair of focused eyes and a steady set of hands. She lay back and giggled as he carefully unknotted the laces.
“You’re lucky I’m so confident about my prowess,” he said. “The way you always giggle in bed. A less certain man would think he was being mocked.”
“Never ever!” she said quickly through her laughter. “It’s just that you make the most precious faces when you’re concentrating.”
“Why in the seven levels of hell did you have to tie this so tight?” he demanded.
“A corset’s no good loose,” she countered. “The whole point is to maximize the cleavage. And besides: I didn’t want to make it too easy for you. You have to work for this present.”
“Oh, I can very well guarantee that,” he said in a throaty voice that made her burn. “Old Bello is known for his work ethic and commitment to achievement, didn’t you know that, Red?”
“Less talk and more action,” she said, sliding her leg up between his, making him close his eyes with a shudder at the slow touch. “You know the sort of girl I am, Bell.”
Bello knew how to treat a girl, but since that fateful accident it could sometimes be… difficult. Pandora had learned this quickly, and had an almost uncanny knack for knowing just what to do and when to do it. He could never top for long-it wasn’t that he lacked the stamina or will, but his legs and back simply couldn’t take the strain. But just when he’d start to tremble, that telltale first sign that his legs would soon give out, Pandora would gracefully slide and maneuver, swinging her leg over his hip as she pulled his arm, and he would find himself looking up at her as if by magic.
“I do believe those are the nicest set of breasts in the country,” he said devoutly, hands moving up over her pale stomach, cupping the objects of his current attention. “I should buy you a plaque saying as much. Breasts like these deserve to be properly lauded.”
“I like the way you admire them plenty-who needs a plaque when you-” Her sentence cut off in a gasp as his thumb slipped over one nipple in a soft circular motion. Her thighs tightened around him, returning the favor by robbing him of breath.
“You’re, God, you’re just something else, miss,” he said devoutly.
“Oh?” She shifted, the curve of her hip crashing against his.
“Almost… almost too hot to touch.” He thrust sharply, hand hard against her ribs, and she cried out as she bucked beneath him.
“You were never one to heed warning labels,” she said somewhat breathlessly.
“Nor you, if we’re being frankly cheeky here. Don’t ride, don’t open, don’t touch… Things that never applied to us.” She loved the way his brow furrowed with concentration, the way he bit his lip almost absentmindedly, the way his hair fell over his eyes.
“Life’s less fun when you’re cautious.” He slid his hand over her shoulder, to her neck, and cupped her head, thumb warm against the line of her jaw. With the next thrust she grabbed at his arm, rising from the pillow to catch his lips with hers. In the haze and rush, it was hard to tell where she ended and he began; but the next movement brought them both to the edge.
They lay tangled, in limbs and sheets, until the sweat had cooled on their skin. Eventually he pushed himself up onto an elbow, square chin resting in the cup of his hand. He just looked at her, an enigmatic half-smile on his face. There was hair caught in her eyelashes and her body felt like it was thrumming, a wire under high tension, just shy of giving off sparks. That was how it always was, after-no man had ever made her burn like Bellerophon.
“So?” she finally said, breaking the warm, lazy silence.
“Hmm?”
“Did you like your present? Not to be pushy, but I was sort of holding out for a thank you.”
“I don’t think you were holding out at all,” he said, voice an octave deeper than usual. “And I hope I showed my gratitude properly.”
“Well, yes, be that as it may be. A little thank you wouldn’t go amiss.”
“For moving in with me?”
“Yep.”
“Alright then.” He shifted beside her. Slid his other arm around her waist, fingertips drumming a soft beat against the curve. “Thank you, my red lady of fire and spice and other saucy things. Thank you, o artist of my heart, for bringing your glorious legs and turpentine and smile into my life on a more permanent basis. Thank you for sharing my bed, and helping me buy groceries, and for reprogramming my DVR, and for always making sure I take my pills and am more careful with my boozing. You, to put it more simply, are the light of my life. The fire of my loins. The cream in my coffee. The feather in my unfortunate poet cap. And I appreciate you every moment that I look at you. Even if you do tell the most dreadfully unfunny jokes. And hog all of the duvet.”
She had started laughing halfway through, and by the end was almost crying over the seriousness of his expression coupled with the ridiculous speech.
“Oh, Bell,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck in a suffocating hug. “I fancy you, too.”
“Now could we perhaps make some tea and sandwiches? I haven’t eaten since noon and I’m famished. Even more so now.”
“Alright.” She pulled roughly at the bedsheets, nearly tipping him over the edge of the bed. He grabbed at the mattress with an undignified squawk, setting her off into another peal of laughter. “Sorry, sweetie. Can you hand me my robe?”
“Robe? Oh you mean this robe?” He held up the garment in question, which had been draped over the back of a chair.
“That’s the one.”
“Ah, but it’s so warm in here, Red. Do you really need this old thing?” He grinned, and it was a very slow, highly suggestive grin.
“If that’s how you want to play it,” she said archly, hands on her hips. “But if I get at all singed by the kettle, it’ll be on your head.”
“Yessum,” he said, breaking into a toothy smile.
“And not in the fun way.”
“Yessum.”
“…Do you want ham or turkey in your sandwich?”
“Surprise me, Cheshire. You’re good at that.”
“Alright.” She smiled, beckoned him with a finger, and sauntered casually out of the room with a downright hypnotic sway.
Bellerophon paused for the shortest second to look up at the invisible heavens. “Whoever’s looking out for me? Thanks a million.”
He did, however, stop just shy of rubbing his hands with maniacal delight.