#david tennant holiday fic requests

[mellicose]

Hardy’s Little Helper

An Alec Hardy Tale by Uglywettiewrites

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3390

Summary: She figures out how to warm him up after a long trudge in a rare winter snow.

[A long-belated holiday fic for my Tumblr series #DT Holiday fic requests]

“Bloody hell-“

He came in and shook the snow from his hair. He continued to whisper to himself as he eased out of his wet trench coat and kicked off his salt-hoary loafers. The gold Christmas lights on the tree flashed rhythmically, and made the soaked tips of his brown hair glimmer.

She sat up on her haunches in front of the tree and smoothed one of her striped socks over her thigh.

“Merry Christmas!” she said, and straightened her spine. His eyes got wide as he studied her. She had on a pair of overalls that didn’t cover much. In fact, her breasts peeked out of the green velvet bib, bare except for glittery red pasties tipped with a tiny bell. The bottom was velvet hot pants embroidered in gold and red thread, and she wore a pair of thigh-high socks in a cozy red and white cable stitch and a pair of high heeled boots.

His lips parted, but he couldn’t figure out what to say. He tugged on the silver bell at the tip of her droopy pointed hat.

She tugged at the limp cold strip of his tie, perplexed. “Why were you walking? What happened to your ride?”

His eyes were wide, still taking her in. He got a warming, delicious whiff of ginger and vanilla. She smelled like Christmas. Her breasts jingled as she pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

“She left early for a personal emergency,” he said, lax as she pulled off his wet shirt. She hissed as she touched his bare chest.

“Jesus, you’re freezing!” she said, rubbing his chest and shoulders. His freckled skin was mottled with the cold, and he was still so wet his chest hair stuck to his skin. “Couldn’t you call a cab?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a mile and a half walk.” He didn’t mention that the solitary cab service was closed for the holiday. And also, he didn’t expect it to start snowing when he was halfway home.

“In this shit? You’ll be burning up by tomorrow,” she said, unbuckling his belt. It hissed as she pulled it off and threw it over her shoulder. He noticed that the tops of her cheeks gleamed with a golden micro glitter that made her skin look gilded. He leaned into her to take in more of her scent.

“You smell like gingerbread,” he said as she unzipped his trousers and bent to take them off. They weren’t as wet, but the bottom half of each pant leg was heavy with cold water.

“Like Santa’s workshop,” she said, and winked at him she threw the pants over a nearby chair.

“What are you?” he said. He felt strange standing in her den with nothing on but pants and socks. She pulled off his wet socks and threw them on the chair with his pants. “A Christmas elf?” He looked longingly at her breasts. He pictured holding her waist as he gently bit at the sequined pasties. It was so clear he almost felt the warm metal of the bells on his teeth.

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[mellicose]

Learning Love

A David Tennant Holiday Fic Request Winner

Fandom: David Tennant, Campbell Bain, Takin’ Over the Asylum

Word count: 5260

Warnings: none

Summary: Campbell and Sandra have now been seeing each other for 6 weeks. As what started as a tryst quietly turns into something more, circumstances push them into confessing how they really feel.

The phone didn’t ring even once in her ear before he answered.

“Dee!”

She chuckled at his nickname for her. “You’re quick on the draw today.”

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I’m about to take a long bath. Would you like to hear me then?”

Long bath was code for water masturbation.

He exhaled. “I’m at work, sugar. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“That’s too bad.”

He put the phone against his chest and bit his lip. “I’m so sorry we can’t do anything special tonight. I mean, really, truly sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing what you have to do get ahead. If it means anything, I’m proud of you. Anyway, I’m not the rose petals and cheap chardonnay type.”

“What is it with you and holidays? You refuse to embrace the magic. Scrooge.”

She growled. “Bah humbug! Cupid can eat it.”

“Call me cupid,” he said.

“Don’t make it harder, Cam.”

“Too late.” He chuckled in her ear. She held her cell in front of her and screamed silently. He was so fucking everything.

“Enough double entendre for today. I guess I’ll see you…”

“Tomorrow morning? I don’t want to wait ‘till dinner. Breakfast foods are the best foods anyway.”

“True. Until tomorrow then. I lo-” She froze.

“You what?” His voice had lost all mirth.

She was sweating. “I look forward to it,” she said.

“Alright. Bye.” He hung up.

She slid to the floor and rolled around, hugging herself. She’d almost said it. Fuck.

Fuck.

With the way the relationship had started, she had promised herself that she would keep it casual. They had never discussed it explicitly in the last month, and why not? They spent nearly every free moment together. 

For her, though, it was becoming for more than spectacular, earth axis-shifting sex. She was beginning to…

She didn’t even want to think it. Why set herself up for a fall?

“We’re having fun. And we’re gonna have fun tonight,” she said, getting up and taking a deep breath. “Good fun.” She smiled.

7:00 PM

“Tonight is the night. The most romantic night of year, when you can show that special someone all the ways you care...

The Flamingos sha bop sha bopped in the background.

“And I’m here to help you share. I’ll be here ‘till midnight taking sexy song requests. Let your lover know just how well they do the voodoo that they do…”

He rattled off the telephone number and looked over the console at the producer. He picked through a heart shaped box of chocolates Cam had brought him. He shook his head. That giant, bearded ginger was who he would be spending the first Valentine’s Day that he actually had someone to celebrate with.

He looked at the inside of his wrist, where Sandra had put a temporary tattoo of a heart with an arrow through it as a gag. He rubbed his thumb on it.

She was amazing. Clever, talented, beautiful, and she actually laughed at his jokes. Consistently. Most importantly, his energy didn’t put her off. In fact, it seemed to bask in it, an odd thing, since she was so calm. He tended to get on calm people’s nerves.

His t-shirt smelled like her, since she’d worn it the last time she stayed over at his flat. Perfume, and her, very faint. The musk that made his muscles tighten to attention.

The producer’s console began to blink with incoming calls.

Time to get to work.

10:52 PM

It was beginning to drag. He felt like he could take off from his chair into the stratosphere with unspent energy.

“-Um, yah, there’s this bird, Kim. I mean, super fit, who loves your show so I know she’ll be listenin’.”

“Thanks for listening, Kim! And what would you like to say to her?”

“Nuffin’ much. Just that I’m here if she ever needs a real man to take her there. Can you play Color Me Badd, I Wanna Sex You Up?”

He rolled his eyes. “Kim, I hope you heard that, and that you hear this…”

He got up and stretched, then walked to the producer’s booth.

“What a twat,” the producer said. He was working on a strawberry cream chocolate.

“You said it so I don’t have to,” Cam said. “I thought this would be fun, but I’m about to explode.”

The producer eyed him. “Then explode in another direction, mate,” he said. His console blinked.

Campbell walked back to his console and looked out the window. Out there, people were having fun. Drinking wine. Dancing. Doing all the sappy shit he wanted to do. Although Sandra made such a big deal about not needing that kind of thing, maybe he could change her mind-

The producer put the next call through.

“Who’s on your mind tonight?”

“I’m sad because I can’t be with my valentine.” Sandra! He smiled so hard he wondered if she could hear it.

“And why on earth wouldn’t he be there with you?”

“My man works long and hard to get where he wants to be. How could I fault him for that?” Why did it sound dirty? Maybe it was because it was her. And he wanted her.

“He sounds like a very lucky man.” There was silence on the line.

“Can you play Suzanne Vega’s Caramel for me, please?”

“Caramel,” he repeated dumbly. The producer rolled his eyes. “Of course, after a short commercial break.”

He ran to the booth again, but the producer shrugged his shoulders.

“She hung up.”

“Fuck. I have to drain the lizard. I’ll be back,” Cam said, and ran into the hallway.

Someone knocked on the booth glass almost immediately after.

“That was quick-” when he turned, it was a beautiful young woman in a short trench coat.

“Who are you?”

She came inside and immediately started to separate the pages of an old tabloid paper. She slammed a roll of tape in front of him. “I’m Cam’s girl. Start taping.” She put the first colored rectangle against the glass. He looked at her high heels, her loose, tousled hair and duochrome mauve lipgloss and took over without a word.

At least one of them was getting laid tonight.

He ran into the broadcast room and into his seat just in time.

“That was Suzanne Vega’s Caramel. Something sweet for the man who works hard for the money.” He tugged on his shirt and smirked.

He looked toward the producer’s booth and it was covered in shitty tabloid.

“What the hell-”

“Cam,” a familiar voice said from a dark corner of the room. She stood and walked into the desk lamp light. It was Sandra, looking good enough to eat. “Surprise,” she said in a whisper. “Now get to work.” She nudged the microphone near his mouth. She walked around and sat on the edge of the desk. She wore a trench coat, and her legs were deliciously bare as far up as he could see.

She pointed the the blinking buttons. “I want to watch you,” she said. Again, her tone made him twitch.

He pressed the button, but his eyes didn’t leave her form. “We’re coming up against the last hour. What’s on your mind tonight, lover?”

She laughed quietly.

“Um, hello?”

“Hello. I’m all ears. Talk to me,” Cam said. She walked behind him and tickled his neck just below his giant earphones. He bit back a giggle.

“Okay. Right. Um, I’ve...I really like...a woman. Who I work with.”

She leaned into him. Her hair tickled his arm. She made a face. Awkward.

“Office romance. Nice. And what’s her name?”

“She’s beautiful. Oh, her name’s Preethi.”

Sandra started to untie her sash slowly. It was agonizing.

“And would you like to say anything special to Preethi tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah. Just that…”

Her trench coat fell open. She wore a purple minidress that would make a stripper blush. His lip wobbled.

“...she’s smart and lovely and I would very much like to take her out sometime.”

“Do you have a song you’d like me to play?”

“You can pick it. Thank you,” the man said and hung up.

She lifted an earphone so she could whisper in his ear. “So awkward, bless him. Play Bryan Adams’ Everything I Do. It fits.”

“Whatever the lady wants,” he said, and cued it up. “What are you doing here?”

She gently bit his earlobe. “I couldn’t stay away. And I figured you might not want to be alone tonight. So I’m here to keep you company.”

“And Teddy?” He spoke of the producer.

She walked around and sat on the desk again. She kicked off her shoe and put her bare foot in his lap. It traveled slowly up his thigh. “He and I have an agreement.” She leaned forward. Her breasts nearly spilled out of the dress. He stirred underneath her kneading foot. “If he says he didn’t see anything, he didn’t see anything.”

“And what would he not be seeing?” She put her other foot on the armrest of his chair and spread her legs. Pearl colored mesh was being swallowed by her swollen cunt lips.

“Fuck.” He put his hand on her calf, pulled himself closer. She pulled gently at her underwear, giving him a quick glimpse, then slid that finger into his mouth. “Shit,” he said, licking his lips.

“Song’s ending,” she said. He turned reluctantly to the microphone. Her foot moved underneath his t-shirt and poked his belly. He bucked and giggled. “Ooh. Ticklish.”

“Ooh. Ladies and gentlemen, all of a sudden I’m feeling inspired-” She pinched his nipple between her toes. “Who’s in love tonight?”

Go slow he mouthed.

She fell to her knees and went underneath the desk.

He took the next call. “Are you in love tonight?”

Sandra tickled his knees. He had to stifle a giggle. He gently slapped her hands.

“Yeah. Like, um, completely. With my best friend.” the caller sounded young.

She has a doll voice, Sandra mouthed at him as she tickled his sides underneath his shirt.

“Sometimes friendships can be a jumping off point for something... amazing.” He put his hand over his mouth. He trembled with laughter.

“She’s beautiful and kind and funny and talented and smart and I just can’t hold back anymore. I don’t know whether you’re listening Amanda, but there’s a reason why I didn’t go to the graduation dance with Daniel. I wanted to go with you. I know we play around a lot, but the fact is I’m in love with you, completely, totally, and I don’t care who doesn’t like it. You fill my heart with joy, you make me so happy…” her breath hitched, as if she were about to weep.

Sandra stopped tickling. They locked eyes for a few precious seconds. She felt exposed.

“I can’t top that. You’ve said it all, and so beautifully too. Is there a particular song you’d like me to play?”

“I don’t care. I just wanted to say it to the world. I love you, Mandy.” She hung up.

Sinatra. I’ve Got You Under My Skin, she mouthed to him. Trust me.

For some reason, she felt as if the wind had been taken out of her sails. This girl, still so young...but so brave. She told everyone. She didn’t care about the possibility of things not going her way. She just wanted to say it. She actually gloried in her love, even if it was not returned.

Music flooded the broadcast room. “May I have this dance?” He pushed the chairs aside and extended his hand. She smiled and walked into his arms.

He pressed his body close to her swayed back and forth. The look in his eyes made her heart hurt.

“I don’t think this is what Teddy expected to see through the gaps in that paper,” she said.

“Did you want to give him a show?” he said, twirling her close to his body in the limited space.

“I just wanted to be with you,” she said, glad she wasn’t facing him.

He turned her and tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. “Me too. Every day. All the time.” He barely pressed his lips against hers, then moved back to the console.

She pulled her skirt down and sat by him.

“We’re coming up hard against the midnight hour. You’re our lucky last caller. What’s on your mind tonight?”

“Hello? This is Amanda. From the last call?”

Cam and Sandra looked at each other, eyes wide. It was on.

“Hello, Amanda-”

She cut him off. “Candace, please answer your phone. I love you, baby, but I didn’t want to say anything to ruin our friendship. I want to be with you, Candy. Call me. Come over. Anything. I’m at home. Please.”

“Oh wow, we’re witnessing romantic history, folks,” he said. “Real life.”

“I know how hard it must be. You’re a preacher’s daughter. But I’ll protect you. We’ll show them love is love, together. Oh, God. I hope she’s okay...”

The console blinked. Teddy’s voice came through the intercom. “It’s Candace. You should take this. It’s gold. The canned tunes can wait.”

Holy shit, Sandra mouthed. Go on.

“Candace, love. Amanda’s all ears. You’ve got the floor.”

There was a couple of seconds of silence. “Amanda.” She was whispering. “My mom heard. They’ve locked me in my room. But they didn’t take my cell.” They could actually hear voices raised in the distance.

“Candy, I’ll come and get you right now-”

“No. I’m safe. They would never hurt me. This day was coming. I’m going to let them yell themselves out. When they realize yelling and demands don’t change anything, then we’ll talk like people. Until then, we may not be able to see each other. Is that okay?”

“But they are hurting you by not accepting it.” Amanda sniffled.

“You’ve been in my life for almost three years, Mandy. Had Sunday dinner at my house. Gone to the church picnics. You know it’s not that easy. Their world has shifted. They’re going to need time to adjust. And I love them, so I want to give them that time.”

“But what if they never do?”

“They’re not that kind. At least, I sincerely pray they are not. But, regardless, can I count on you to understand?” The sound of yelling faded to nothing. There was just her distressed breathing.

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Okay.” Someone knocked on her door so loud it made Sandra and Campbell jump in their chairs. Candace. Darling. Open the door. We need to talk. The mother’s voice came through loud and clear. “Mandy, I’ve gotta go. But I love you. This too shall pass, right?” Her voice trembled.

“I love you.” Amanda sniffled.

“Bye.” Candace whispered, then they both hung up.

Campbell pulled up to the mic. He bit his lip, then started talking. “Love has no age limit. You can be 8, or 80. Gender doesn’t matter. Neither does color, creed, race, or religion. It’ll get the bearded imam as well as the political punk rocker woman hanging out in the corner. It could hit you after 10 years, or just after 10 minutes -” he gave Sandra a look that warmed her - “but that doesn’t diminish its power. Time means nothing to it, since it stops time, or makes it move too fast to count…” he sighed. He wasn’t used to extemporizing about serious things. “Love is an act of creation in and of itself. It makes something out of nothing. Makes peace out of chaos…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s a miracle that we sometimes run the danger of taking for granted. Candace, Amanda, I wish you the best of luck. For that matter, I wish all of you out there true love, and the peace that comes from it. Good night.”

Teddy walked into the broadcast room. “That was fucking exciting. Great show, mate.” He averted his gaze when he saw Sandra. She’d forgotten she was half naked. Campbell held up her coat so she could put it on.

“Thanks for giving us a bit of privacy, Teddy,” she said as she tied the sash around her waist.

“Oh, no problem. I promise I didn’t peek.”

“Right,” she said, and smiled at him. He blushed.

“I’ll be on my way, then.” He walked out and closed the door.

Campbell put on his coat and walked her out of the building. She hailed a cab.

“Do you want to come over now? Not wait ‘till the morning?”

“What about Reggie?”

“He’s deep into his third Valentine’s date by now, and not in our flat.”

“Then I’d love to.” He stepped into the cab after her. They sat down, and Campbell took her hand in his. “So, the third date of the night, huh?”

“Reggie is not a believer of monogamy.”

“So the other dudes know about each other, and don’t care?”

“Yep. He’s a juggler, but he’s honest from the jump. It fascinates me what he can get away with. I hope this doesn’t sound sexist, but I often wonder whether it’s a male thing.”

“No offense taken. I’ll speak for myself and say that it sounds like something I’d never want to do. One at a time is plenty.” He squeezed her hand and smiled at her.

“Sure. For now. Just as soon as you get a bit more famous and the high quality trim starts showing up, you might change your mind.” She smiled too hard at him. The words didn’t feel natural. He noticed.

“Trim? You’re something else,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain this imaginary influx of radio personality groupies will not change my mind. I like to feel something for the person I’m bedding. Does that make me old-fashioned? Maybe. I don’t care.”

She was glad it was dark in the cab. She was blushing furiously. She felt like a jerk.

She opened the door and let him in, flipping on the switch that turned on the fairy lights she’s taped to wall in swirling patterns that day.

“Ooh, pretty!” he said, bouncing comically and clapping his hands.

“Shut up.” She walked to her kitchenette and opened a bottle of wine. He walked up behind her and pulled her trench coat off, kissing her neck.

“Fuck the wine.” she turned around and kissed him hard, wrapping her leg around his waist. She sucked his lower lip and moaned. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“This looks like the good stuff. Why we gotta be in such a hurry? Let’s enjoy these lights,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear and kissing the tip of her nose.

Had she upset him with her stupid comments earlier?

“Okay. Sure.”

He found two jelly glasses in the mess on the counter and poured, then sat at her coffee table. He looked beautiful in the pale gold light. She stared from the threshold of the living room.

He patted the floor beside him. “Come on. Let’s toast.”

She sat down and raised her glass. “Toast away. You’re the one with the beautiful words.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely. The only toasts I know are ‘down the hatch’, ‘to your health’, or my personal favorite, ‘to your nipples.’”

He laughed and kissed her lips lightly, an easy gesture that took her breath away. “Okay then. Let me think. To...the miracle of love. It makes something so beautiful out of nothing. Thank you for giving of yourself to me of openly, trusting me.You’ve made these last six weeks the best holiday season I’ve ever had. And I hope there’s much more to come.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She grabbed the jelly glass before he could drink.

“Those girls. They were no more than high school students. But they were so sure. I could hear it in their voice. Children, and they knew. And one a preacher’s daughter to boot. What balls.”

“I felt that too. Brave, the both of them.”

“It won’t be easy for them. Not at first. If they even go through with it.”

“It never is. The world is antagonistic to lovers. To love in general. Them’s the facts,” he said, shrugging.

“It never is,” she repeated. “Campbell, I-”

He squeezed her hands. “You can take your time. I’m here. I’ll wait till you’re ready-”

“I’m in love with you.”

His eyes flashed in the semi-darkness. “Sandra, I-”

She cut him off. “Please let me finish. I know that this started out as a sex thing - and the sex is fanfuckingtastic - but you’ve become so much more to me. You’re so kind, and clever and you seem to follow my weird train of thought without my having to explain myself...and I know what you’ve been through - what you’re going through now - and you will go through until whenever, and I don’t care. I love you. Madly. You’re my muse. I’ve never painted better. At this rate I’ll fill a gallery by June. And it’s okay if you don’t quite feel the same. I don’t care. I want you to know it. Just...stay. I won’t pressure you into anything. I can love enough for the both of us.”

He hugged her, tight, until her breathing slowed.

“Dee,” he said in her ear. “That silly little speech at work. The toast. Isn’t it obvious?”

“What? Reggie’s told me more than once I can’t see the forest for the trees,” she said, straddling him.

“That I’m in love with you. How could I not? You’re my peace. That, and in awe of the way you look at me. I feel...like a proper part of the human race. It’s magic.”

She sniffled and tucked her face into his neck, hugging him tight.

“My brown-eyed girl…” he whispered into her hair. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Do you have candles?” he said.

“Come on, Cam. Do we really need all that?”

She started to take off her dress, but he held her arms down. “I’ll do that. But first, candles. You’re the artsy type. You have to have at least a couple lying around.”

“Gimme a sec.” Reggie had enough candles to light a cathedral. She ran into his bedroom and grabbed an armful of glass candles and dropped them gently on her bed. “Your wish is my command.” She handed him a lighter.

He put them around the bed and lit them. He was an Italian Renaissance beauty of a man, especially around the eyes and nose. Her fingers twitched to draw him in this light.

“I recognize that look,” he said, giving her a crooked grin. “The artist longs for her tools, but she’ll have to wait.”

He knelt in front of her and pulled her dress slowly over her head. She wore a bra to match the pearl mesh panties, but he wanted her naked. His hands moved from her breasts to her hips, and he hooked the panties in his fingers and pulled them off. He bowed his head to her breast and bit gently at the mesh until her nipple stretched it. Then, he sucked it through the cloth, flicking his tongue over it while pinching her other nipple hard. She buried her hands in his thick hair and seeped wetness on her sheets.

He unclasped her bra and took one of her breasts into his mouth, hungrily sucking at her flesh while his tongue swirled on her hardened bud. She unbuttoned his pants and wrapped her hand around him. She sighed at the living weight of him. Somehow, he felt more because he was hers.

He stood and stripped quickly as she scooted back to the pillows and spread enticingly for him.

God, he loved when she did that.

He crawled between her legs and pulled them around his hips. “I just want to kiss you.” He said, and sucked on her lower lip. He nuzzled her neck and kissed down to her clavicle. “Everywhere. In every way.”

“Do it,” she said.

He kissed down to her breasts, just soft little kisses around her hard nipples but never touching. He kissed down the shelf of her ribs, then bit gently at her sides until she giggled and squirmed. He swirled his tongue down to her mound. She spread, but he licked the wetness off her thighs and kissed slowly up each thigh to the knee and back. Her throbbing flesh warmed his cheeks when he got to the fork of her legs, but he resisted the urge to lick her, regardless of her pleading.

“Get on your stomach,” he said. She obeyed quickly. He kissed her instep, then moved up her leg, biting her calf and tickling the back of her knees to watch her ass jiggle with laughter as he spread her legs. He licked, then kissed the little seam between thigh and ass, then bit softly at her jiggling flesh until she moaned into her pillow.

“I thought you said kisses,” she said. Her voice was rough with desire.

“I’m kissing too,” he said, placing a soft kiss on each cheek and moving up to the small of her back. He licked the sweat there and kissed up the valley until he reached her neck. His cock slid easily between her legs and nestled between her pussy lips. She moved her hips, making him groan in her ear.

“Enough teasing. I want you.” She trembled beneath him.

“It’s never enough,” he said and lay beside her. “Come on.” He patted his shoulders. “Knees here.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. She straddled his head and leaned down to his cock, taking him in her mouth. She took his balls in her hand, gently caressing, kneading the tender flesh, then licked them.

“Fuck.”

He tried to lick her, but she held his head in place with her thighs.

“Stop. Lemme have a taste.”

She wiggled her butt. She dripped to his upturned face, but her grip was firm. “I thought there was never enough teasing.” Her broad tongue moved up his shaft, leaving a trail of saliva that she used to jerk him off. She wrapped her lips around the crown of his cock and swirled her tongue until he bucked.

“Please.” His plaintive tone made her giggle into him.

“Ummmmm…” she took him to the back of her throat. The vibration made his toes curl. She slurped up his shaft, then sucked gently at his foreskin. “No.” She played with him, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the crown of his cock with her lips alone. She tasted precum and hummmmmd into him… then got off him.

He tried to scoot down between her legs, but she pulled him up and on top of her. She caressed him and gave him a tender look.

“I want to come with you inside me. Can we do that?”

He grabbed blindly at her night table, where he knew she kept condoms. He ripped the package and nearly fumbled it trying to get it on.

She chuckled. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” She helped him smooth it on and lay back. “Come here, boy.”

He lay on top of her, but the mood changed. They sank into each each. All she could see was his eyes, lit by flickering candlelight. Warmth rose from her belly to her heart in growing waves as he moved slowly inside her. She was surrounded by him, connected by flesh and feelings.

Is this what people spoke of when they said ‘make love’?

She thought it was a fusty term. Something repressed adults used to avoid saying fuck.

But she was a fool.

It hurt, but in the most beautiful way. A tear actually dripped on her temple, but he kissed it away before it wet her hair. She caressed the hair from his face and saw the light break in his eyes as well.

“Cam...” she kissed him, hard, and soon the cherry sweetness of his saliva was cut by the salt of their mixed tears. They rocked into each other, multiplying each other’s pleasure, breathing each other’s breath, chest to chest until they spun out together. Their shared cries and his bucking brought her back to herself.

They stayed connected and silent for goodness knows how long. When he finally withdrew, she hiccupped and hugged him closer.

“What just happened?”

He still trembled with emotion. “I don’t know, but it was-”

“Love magic. We made love magic.” Her heart still raced in her chest. “Did you feel...connected? Really, connected?”

He nuzzled her cheek.”Yeah. But more. Like we were both connecting to something much bigger.”

“Do you think God exists?”

He chuckled. “This is pretty deep for pillow talk.”

“My mom isn’t very religious, and I’ve never really been interested, but...I felt something, Cam. I swear to you, I did.”

“I hope you did,” he said, kissing her neck. “If not, I’m a failure.”

“Never.” She stared at him as he got out of bed to clean himself and blow out most of the candles. He put on his underwear and sat by her.

“Do you want to draw me now?”

She ran her fingertips down his chest. It was still mottled with sex flush. “No. You, in this moment, are mine and mine alone. I refuse to share.”

He lay beside her, and she kissed the salt from his cheeks and stuck her tongue out. “You cried.”

“I did. This is all new to me. Love, and the making of it.”

“Those fusty adults were keeping secrets,” she said.

“What?” he kissed her shoulder.

“Nothing. Just thinking aloud.” She raised her head to look at him.

“Did it hurt?”

She didn’t need to explain further. “No. I felt full of love, ecstatic. But the knowledge that the feeling would end hurt.”

“Exactly. Everything ends.”

He held her closer. “But it’s okay. We can do it again.” He kissed her. Even his kisses had changed. They were deeper, more tender.

She sat up suddenly. “What time is it?”

“3:20 am. Why?”

“Ooh, just in time!” She rolled out of bed and put on some jeans and a t-shirt.

“Come back here. I’m not done with you yet.”

“We can put a pin in that. But now, we feast.”

“And they said I’m the mad one. What are you talking about?”

She threw his jeans at him. “There is a bakery a couple of blocks away that will open in just 10 short minutes.”

“And?” He was reluctant to get out of bed.

“Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, in which bakeries all over the country make tasty love-themed biscuits, pies, and cakes which they don’t always sell…”

His eyes narrowed. “Ohhh.” He dressed quickly.

They stepped out into an early morning washed clean by rain.

“How did we not even notice?” she said.

He took her hand and waited for her to guide him. “We were extremely distracted. Take me to the treats,” he said.

They walked in silence for several blocks. It was a new thing, but nice. They felt no need to entertain each other. They could exist, and enjoy each other’s existence.

“I love the streets at night after a rain,” she said after a while.

“The streets turn to mirrors,” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist.

She stopped and looked down. “Look at you and I. Just a couple of saps.”

“Naw. The perfect reflection of a happy couple.”

“You do have a way of wording things so much better than I do,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss.

[mellicose]

💖 David Tennant Holiday Fic Requests 💖

Valentine’s Day will soon be upon us, and as ever, I am in the mood for love.

Some sweet, sweaty word love.

Here’s the premise:

1) Dwell on the gorgeousness of David’s many characters. [Characters, though. I don’t write David hisownself.]

2) Choose the one who tickles your fancies. All of them.

3) Read through some of my posted fics to get an idea of my style. Wear out that heart button if you like. It makes my heart glow.

4) Think, long and hard, about your dream Valentine’s date. Be as specific as you dare. Fluff and smut are very encouraged.

5)  Tell me what you fantasized about. In detail. The more you tell me, the better I can write what you crave.

I’m open to his whole universe of characters, although I don’t ship (please click on link for friendly PSA). Why write another character in when we can have all the fluffy and/or filthy fun? 

On Christmas, due to the holiday and work, I was only able to write one fic, but this time around, I am willing to do a top three. It will go as follows:

Third Place: 500 word ficlet

Second Place: 1000 word fic

First Place: Sky’s the limit! Whatever it takes to get the characters where they need to be.

x

Good. Think fast, and blow up my message box. It’s only 9 days till couples make the world itself wobble with their thrusting, so I’ll take requests until 12 AM Thursday, February 10.

So, go watch some romcoms, crack open that box of chocolates and indulge without guilt.

After all, it’s all for the wee adipose waiting to be born.

[mellicose]

The Game - 2

A David Tennant Holiday Fic Request

Fandom: David Tennant, Jean-Francois Mercier, Spies of Warsaw

Wordcount: 1500

Warnings: none

Second Place - After their amazing afternoon, Jean-Francois has been searching for the dark-haired beauty who nearly succeeded in killing him at his most vulnerable. Now that he finally found her, will she be as easy to capture as he believes?

Read Chapter 1

14 Février 1938

He shifted position on the unyielding stone, rubbed his eyes, and brought the binoculars to his face again.

They were done. How quick.

She put on her negligee, deep blue satin trimmed in cream lace. The binoculars were so powerful he could see the shadow of her sex-hard nipples.

His mouth twitched.

The pale, bilious bastard she’d been fucking rolled out of her sheets and scratched at his chest. A Nazi, by the medals on the suit he’d shed less than ten minutes before. He tried to grab at her, but she ducked gracefully from his grasp. She grinned openmouthed at him. She put on earrings. Diamonds. A gift.

He finished dressing behind her. She faced the window as she combed her black hair. The smile was gone.

There was a silver revolver on the sill, hidden between clay potted geraniums. He combed his yellow hair at her vanity. She put her brush down and put on some kid gloves, then screwed on a silencer. The man fiddled with his tie, oblivious.

His eyebrows arched over the binoculars. Could she be-

She turned. The Nazi’s mouth opened to scream, but she shot him in the throat, then pumped two bullets in his chest. He dropped like a sack of shit. She burst into action, rolling his body in the carpet underneath him.

His heart raced, but his face was impassive. He worked months to gather a dossier on the woman who had tried -

-but had she really tried?-

To kill him. Just like the dead Nazi, she’d fucked him. And it chilled his blood to know for sure that she would’ve been successful, had his death been the objective.

Her face had haunted him since that warm afternoon. That, and her adventurous mouth. She had not done those things with the Nazi. For him, it had been the standard bounce on his lap, but even then, she was artful.

He almost didn’t blame the man for coming so quickly.

“Il est mort heureux,” he said out loud. He died happy. And it was far more than he deserved.

She called someone. Her face was grave. She nodded and hung up, then dressed quickly. She wore an inconspicuous brown skirt suit.

Well, as inconspicuous as she could look. She was a stunning beauty.

She took off the earrings. Her raven hair was hidden under a cloche, a hat gone far out of style. She unscrewed the silencer from the revolver and wrapped it in a felt rag. She put on some muddy tan stockings. They looked a travesty on her smooth skin.

He watched as she paced her flat, her hands on her waist. She was waiting. At one point, she stood over the carpet wrapped body and kicked it. Repeatedly. Viciously. When she turned, her face was twisted into a mask of disgust. Maybe even agony.

Despite the chill, sweat dripped from his armpits down his sides.

A beat up sedan pulled up to the alley - the car she was waiting for, because she picked up her purse and gloves and left the apartment.

Merde! He picked up his knapsack and ran down the four flights of stairs of the the building on whose roof he had been spying four steps at a time and ran out a side door. Nobody clocked him. Nobody cared.

She was already walking down the sidewalk as he cleared the alley. He hid behind some trash cans and watched. The car purred on neutral in the alley.

She turned the corner. He looked back and forth painfully, then followed her.

He ran deftly behind her in the light evening foot traffic. She walked quickly, but a bit stiffly. No one looked at her.

If they could only see who they were dismissing.

She walked into an alley, then stepped into a place with a soup sign over the door - a working-class restaurant. He pulled his pageboy low over his forehead and followed. No one stood at the door to greet him. There were tables draped in oilcloth, and a counter at which three sallow faced men slurped.

She sat in a dark corner, near the door to the kitchen, sipping on something. She felt comfortable enough to take off her hat. The men at the counter didn’t stir.

She looked at him boldly and stirred her beverage. He was momentarily stuck to the place he stood.

“Colonel,” she said, and pointed to the seat opposite her.

He put his hand in his jacket and sat down.

She gave him a half smile. “No need for that, Jean. I’m unarmed.”

He took his thumb off the hammer and put his hand on the table. Fresh mint leaves floated in her steaming cup.

“Did you get a good show, Colonel?”

He remained silent.

“You have questions. I might have answers.”

“Why did you kill him?”

“Because I was ordered to, although it was my pleasure. Next?”

“You are a Nazi assassin. A plant.”

“Yes. Is that it?”

“And they ordered you to kill that man?”

“They? No. Your questions aren’t very well-worded, Mercier. I must be going.” She picked up her hat and stood up. He followed, but in the blink of an eye she had reached into his jacket and taken his weapon. The muzzle now hovered at the level of his eyes, just out of his reach.

“Keep watching, Colonel. Maybe then you’ll have better questions.”

The men at the counter did not even look their way. When he looked back, she was gone.

He ran out through the kitchen, but the alley was empty. Again, she had disarmed him. And again, she had not taken the opportunity to kill him.

He went back to the apartment building and climbed the stairs to where the murder had occurred. The door was open. He patted in his boot for a knife and backed carefully into it. The apartment still smelled faintly of her perfume mixed with the iron tang of blood.

But it was empty. The body was gone. He did a quick recon of the three rooms, but there was no one there, and no evidence that there had been. The bed had been made with fresh sheets. The scuffed wood floor was clean.

He put the knife between his teeth and started to look through the bureau drawers. They were empty, save for clean linen. He shook them open, and they drifted around his head like shrouds, but there was nothing. He looked in the closet. It was empty. He went to the kitchen and opened the cabinets. There was only vodka and powdered soap.

He was perplexed.

She played the part of a kept woman very well. Why would that man consent to see her there, in that shitty flat? It didn’t even have a lavatory. He had marked the man’s face well - he would go through the hundreds of archived photos of Nazis and Nazi sympathisers and find out who he was.

But the mystery of who she really was loomed larger.

She had kicked the dead body so angrily. It smacked of a personal affront to him.

He went back to the closet turned on the light. He carefully touched the doorjamb, then moved down the wood floor. His persistence paid off - a board came off easily after just a little prodding. An old shoebox was jammed into the hole in the floor.

He pulled it out and stared at it for a bit. It looked like a girl’s shoebox, no more than 25 cm long. He opened it. There was an old velvet ribbon, a rich blue color, but balding at the edges.  A little wood doll with red painted cheeks. A letter, addressed to a Sylvia Mountbatten, in English, in an envelope with Minnie Mouse on it. He pulled it out, and a photo fell on his lap.

Two smiling girls, arm in arm, with a lake behind them. One was blonde, one had dark hair. He squinted at the image. The one with dark hair had a long, slim face, with limbs to match. The blonde was shorter, but she already had twin buds stretching the front of her striped suit and blooming hips. The curve of her lips was familiar.

He flipped the photo, and there was something written on the back.

Catskills, USA, 1927

Sylvia and Rachel

Which is Sylvia? More importantly, who is Sylvia, and why had she hidden the shoebox?

He heard a hammer cock and turned to see her standing in the middle of the bedroom, his gun pointed at his chest.

“It looks like you found my secret stash, Colonel.” She kicked the knife he’d laid on the floor into the next room. He was completely unarmed now. She walked confidently to him and snatched the photo and letter from his hand. He studied her dark hair, the delicate planes of her face. She couldn’t be the dark haired girl. That girl would’ve grown to be tall and skinny. She was petite, curvy.

She put the letter in the box and tucked it under her arm.

“You’re tenacious, Jean. I’ll give you that.” She eyed his lips, then her gaze traveled slowly to his eyes. She bit her own unpainted lip. “Fucking Frenchman,” she said in English. His eyes widened in surprise. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He felt a flash of pain, then all slid easily into darkness.

[mellicose]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

A DT Holiday Fic Request

A Walt Jodell Fic

Rating: Mature

Word count: 10,872

Warnings: none

Summary: A not-so-innocent encounter at the annual Christmas party finally blows the lid off Walt and Katty's waning relationship.

December 29

She was freshly bathed, loose-limbed and pouring herself another glass of wine when someone knocked hard on her kitchen door.

“Fuck!” she jumped, and poured wine onto her robe. She groaned and swatted at herself. She was gonna smell like a booze factory. “Jesus, who is it? It’s after 11pm-” She yanked the door open, and Walt stood on her porch, hands deep in the pockets of his wool coat.

“Walt?” she said, still wiping at herself. His eyes traveled from her flushed face and down her body. She suddenly remembered she was wearing only a robe. She wrapped her arms around herself and cleared her throat.

“May I come in?” he said, then stepped into her kitchen before she could balk. She closed the door behind her and sighed. She knew it might happen. She felt it would, and she wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or not.

He looked at her counter, where white wine dripped from the red stone to the floor.

“Having a nightcap, eh?” he said, and gave her a crooked grin.

“What are you doing here?” she said, then started to clean aggressively – she needed to do something with her hands.

“I was, um – I was just having a quick closing meeting with Venessa,” he gesticulated awkwardly. “The office is just around the way. Odd you’d choose to continue working so far away,” he said, smiling again. “Nessa lives near me – in fact, just a few miles away. We were discussing that if you were both open to it, I could just pull an ol’ switcheroo-”

“No,” she said quickly as she squeezed the dishrag into the sink. “It’s not as easy as that. I have my people there. We work well together. Just pulling up roots and leaving would be weird.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yes.” His smile faded. “It was just an idea. To make things easier for both of you.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “You live in Stockton,” she said. The office she managed was just a five minute drive from his house, so he was in almost daily. Although at first she thought he was dropping in because he wanted to micromanage her, she knew better now.

“Yep. It’s a great place to raise a family,” he said, rubbing at the front of his coat. “Safe, great weather, good schools. The whole package. Katty loves it-” he gasped, as if trying to swallow the last words back.

That bitch doesn’t love anything, she said underneath her breath as she walked out of the kitchen.

“How is Kathryn?” she said as she walked into her bedroom to put on clothes. She didn’t care, but it was polite conversation. She ripped off her robe and started rooting in her bureau for a bra when she heard a soft exhalation. Walt stared at her from her from the threshold, his face a rictus of desire.

December 23

“Oh, go on. It’ll be fun,” Venessa said, poking at her side. She already had too much, but she was working on another glass of wine. “I know there’s several people here you want to touch inappropriately.” Nessa’s eyes narrowed conspiratorially.

Walt stood nearby, holding up the wall and nursing a beer. He looked back and forth between the women, following the conversation. Kathryn walked up, devastating in a hunter green velvet strapless dress. Her hair was pulled up and her makeup was flawless, but her lips were pinched into a perpetual bitchface.

“I don’t know, Venessa,” she said, putting her arm around her waist. “There’s not a lot of men to go around.” She gave Walt a pointed glance.

“Look at you, being all heteronormative,” Vanessa said, taking a healthy sip of wine.

“You make a good point. The bottle stops where it stops. It shouldn’t matter whether it’s a woman or a man,” Katty said, raising her brow. “I myself have kissed a girl or two, and I liked it.”

One of Nessa’s co-workers, a loud, oversexed 20-something man with slicked back hair and an ugly Christmas sweater hooted and waved around his beer. “Let’s do it!”

“Don’t get too excited, chief. Any minutes in the closet with a mouthbreathing nerd is hardly heavenly,” Katty said. He wilted. Vanessa snorted. Walt was walking to the kitchen for another beer when she yelled out to him. “Don’t you slink off, Walt. You’re playing too.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. He wore a terrible, over-tinseled sweater that Orvis decorated and Katty made him wear. A santa hat drooped on his head.

She stared at him, eyes narrowed. “What, are you too good to socialize with the underlings?” she said, waving her arm magnanimously at the small crowd in their basement. He winced and grabbed her arm, guiding her to a corner.

“It’s not that. Mostly, it’s because it would break at least 20 different local and federal labor laws,” he said.

“Oh shut it,” she said, pushing him away. “Haven’t you watched television lately? You’re just a chicken.”

His lips pursed. “Chicken?” he said. “What are we, 12? It’s not a good idea, Katty.”

“I think it’s great idea,” she said loudly and broke from his grip. She wrapped her arm around another acquaintance, a young junior accountant named Megan and squeezed. “Where’s the bottle?” She eyed the young redhead rapaciously.

He sidled up next to her, his jaw working. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to touch him. His shoulder. His twitching jaw. His tinseled chest. Kathryn’s presence felt like a naked, too-bright lightbulb. It was headache inducing, and she wondered how he dealt with her all the time. She was beautiful, but what did it matter if you couldn’t even look her in the eye?

“Spin the bottle. That’s nostalgic,” she said, taking a sip of her wine.

“Yeah. Sure,” he said. He drained his beer. He looked her up and down. “Where’s Toto?” he said, pointing at her glittery red shoes.

“Ha ha ha,” she said, smirking. “That’s not one I’ve heard a million times.”

“Have you made a wish yet?” he said, warming up. “You just have to click your heels, Dorothy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wish the merriment was over already, how about that?”

“Me too,” he said frankly, and sighed. There was silence, and leaned against the wall. Beyond the smell of booze and hors d’oeuvres, she could smell him. She took a deep breath. It was so unlikely for a man dressed as a parody of Elf on a Shelf to smell so deliciously masculine.

“We could escape. You can wish it with your special shoes,” he said, and winked at her.

“Lay off my bitchin’ holiday style choices already. In any case, maybe you could-” she pointed at his outfit -”what mythical powers does the elf have, anyway?”

“He doesn’t have any. He lives in fear of the almighty power of Santa, and lives at the mercy of her whims,” he said. He chuckled, but it was dry. They fell quiet again as they watched people gather around the glass coffee table. An empty syrah bottle sat on its side in the middle.

Kathryn clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, this is the way it’s gonna go,” she said, sitting on Venessa’s lap. “We’ve written down different acts and dropped them in this adorable holiday themed wine glass-” She shook it and smiled. “There will be two spins to make it really random. First for person one, and second for person two, you get it.” People whispered with excitement.

Want more? Click here, or on the link above!

Please like/reblog/comment if you love it, it makes my fingers fly! 

[mellicose]

I am so looking forward to tomorrow! Thank you for writing THREE stories for all of our whims, and happy V-Day my dear.

Thank you for being so absolutely lovely. Truly, anonny. You’re tops.

Happy Valentine’s Day. 

[mellicose]

❄️DT Holiday Fic Requests❄️

It's nearly that time again. Get ready.

[mellicose]

The Ocean in the Snow

A Hardy x Grace Christmas fic

Rating: Mature, for sex and angst Characters: Hardy x Grace Word Count: 4150 Warnings: none

Summary: It’s their first Christmas, and Hardy and Grace find themselves alone in his bungalow by the the sea. Alec is transfixed by the sight of the grey winter sea through the snow, and Grace does what she can to bring him back into himself, and to her.

He watched the churning waves through the snow.

The sea was a strange thing - it was different every season. In the summer, it was all saturated tones of green and blue, crystalline, inviting. In the fall, there were shades of brown and ochre in the blue to match the trees. But a winter sea … It was a frightening thing. It seemed angrier, more active. It’s as if it refused to be still, and freeze. It creamed and foamed in shades of grey that made it look more cold and desolate that it was. But he knew that there was still life underneath the surface, stolen life-

“Do you miss her?” a hand squeezed his shoulder. He jumped, startled from his thoughts. It was Grace.

“Do I miss-?” he looked back toward the beach, his mouth open. Grace’s eyes were filled with tender sympathy. She hugged him from the back, squeezing hard. Her breasts were a pleasant softness against him.

“Daisy. Yes.”  He turned in her arms to hug her back. “She wanted to be with her grandparents,” he said, referring to his ex-wife’s parents. And he didn’t blame her. There were getting on in years. But she wasn’t referring to his daughter.

Grace looked out the large picture window of his bungalow by the sea. The snowfall was light, but steady, and it would only get heavier as they day progressed. She had the strange urge to go for a walk in the uninviting gray, down to the shore.

“A white Christmas,” she said, smiling up at him. She tugged at his wire rimmed glasses, straightening them. He smiled, but his eyes were not in it. It only solidified her urge. “How long has it been since you had a Christmas by the ocean?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I dunno. Never. I don’t really like it. Too cold and wet.” He always avoided water during Christmas. He preferred being safely ensconced in the suburbs, with a bit of turkey and red wine. But fate had finally brought him back to the sea. And to Grace.

Grace’s eyes fell to the bouquet of flowers that she brought to his house. There were white lilies and red roses, and some baby’s breath.  She let him go and started to pick the white lilies out of the vase and lay them gently on the counter.

“What are you doing?” he said, his brow raised.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said, and started to put her coat on. It was a bright red wool thing, with a beret and a fluffy white scarf with yellow stripes. She looked like Mondrian painting. He looked back out the window. The beach was deserted, and there were gleaming chunks of ice in the orange sand at the tide line. His nipples peaked just looking at it, but one look at Grace made him start putting on his coat.

“This is kinda romantic,” she said as they walked carefully down the icy hill path to the beach.

“Not really,” he said. He looked down at their feet, ready to drop to the ground to break her fall if she slid.

“Maybe not,” she said, squeezing his arm. He looked at her. Her nose was already red, her cheeks shiny with the cold. But in her eyes was a determination that gave him a second wind.

The sand crunched underneath their galoshes, and he started to walk them toward the jetty at the far end of the beach. She let herself be guided, and they walked in silence, their bodies leaning into the vicious bite of the wind. As they got near the water, his gait lagged. She took his hand and laced her gloved fingers in his, and squeezed.

You can do it.

But he stopped. All of the wooden jetty’s surfaces were shining with ice.

“You’re not going on that thing,” he said, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

“Good call, detective,” she said, and gently pulled him toward the middle of the beach. From there, they could see the town, and the cliffs. There was no movement save for the wind, and the water. She put her arms around him again. The lilies slapped against his back in the sharp breezes. “Merry Christmas, Hardy,” she said. He looked down at her and she giggled. There were specks of snow glued to the glass with the cold.

“Merry Christmas to you,” he said, curling into her body as he hugged her. When they kissed, there was a delectable contrast of cold lips and hot mouth that turned her hands to fists on his old blue overcoat.

“You taste like strong tea,” she said as they broke the kiss.

“Bitter?” he said, wiping the cold water from her cheek.

“No,” she said dreamily. “Comforting. Sweet.”

“Weird. I don’t put sugar in my tea.”

“Then it’s not the tea. It’s you,” she said, and kissed him again.

Want more? Click here, or on the link above!

If you enjoyed it, please like/reblog - it makes my fingers fly.

Want more Lust Lessons? Click here to read from the beginning.

[mellicose]

[Remember when I wrote DT fiction?

Those were good times]

❅ David Tennant Holiday Fic Requests  ❅

So…

It’s Shitscram time, and I haven’t the faintest idea where to start writing a themed fiction. I want ideas.

1) Scroll through many David Tennant photos/videos

2) Stare and sigh

3) Fantasize until you sweat

4) Read through some of my posted fics to get an idea of my style

5) Tell me what you fantasized about (please be as specific/explicit as you dare, I don’t shock easily), and if it intrigues me, I might just write a whole fic about it. I’ll just add a bit of holiday cheer…or something.

I’m open to his whole universe of characters, although I don’t ship (please click on link for friendly PSA). Why write another character in when we can have all the fluffy and/or filthy fun?

You buying what I’m selling? Click that Ask box and tell me what titillates you.

By DT’s cocksock, be quick about it too!

The day is nearly upon us.

[mellicose]

The Food of Love

A David Tennant Holiday Fic Request

Fandom: David Tennant, Casanova

Word count: 500

Rating: Mature

Third Place - Casanova wants to impress his lover with a rare treat, but things get a bit hotter than he expected.

She looked delectable in red. Absolutely divine, half naked and sweating on his satin sheets.

She moaned, and there was a hollow bonk! as she pushed the wine bowl off the bed with her writhing. His tongue was in fine form. He looked up to see her face, but all he could see was the lace and silk of her underthings. She was so impatient for an orgasm she’d coaxed him between her legs before having a taste of the delicacies he put out especially for the occasion.

Water dripped off the silver platter of shucked oysters set like jewels on chipped ice.  Ripe figs, sliced open, tender and deep rose as she was, drizzled with honey and speckled with pistachios. Best of all, chocolate - the rarest of treats, only fit for royalty ... and he’d gotten his hands on it. He was anxious to show her. He was certain she would be quite thankful.

She caressed his shoulders with her stockinged feet. His tongue had slowed.

“Giac. Where are you, caro?”

“I’ve got a big surprise for you, and I can’t stop thinking about how appreciative you’ll be once you see it.” His smile glistened with her juices.

“Is that so?” She pulled him up, then plucked at the buttons of his fly. She squeezed at the hardness beneath. Her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth. “Ooh. It feels very big.”

His eyebrow rose and he gave her a one-sided grin. “True enough, but that’s not it.”

She pouted. “Is it a toy?”

“No.” he grabbed the warm bowl and the brush and sat between her legs.

“Whatever it is, it smells-” she gasped when she saw the molten brown surface. “Chocolate.” Her eyes glowed. “How’d you even-” she dipped her finger in the bowl and sucked it. Her eyes rolled closed and she moaned even deeper than she had before. He chuckled. She went in for another dip, but he moved the bowl.

“What’s the brush for?” she asked.

“If you’ll strip for me, I’ll show you.”

They took off everything, slowly, teasingly. She sat on his bed in nothing but a jeweled hair comb and a coral bracelet. He wore nothing but the ribbon in his ponytail. He dipped the brush. She leaned back, spreading for him.

In his excitement, he fumbled the bowl and the chocolate splashed on his cock.

Hot. Hot! He nearly dropped the bowl in his discomfort.

She darted forward, concerned. “What is it?”

“It’s too warm.” He tried to rub it off, but it just spread. She grabbed some ice chips and put them in her mouth.

She dropped to her knees. “Allow me.” She pulled the skin back and licked gently at him, swirling the brown on his pink. Her cool tongue made his toes curl. She mmm’ed, then took him completely in her mouth and massaged the head of his cock until the sweetness was replaced by his salt.

He dripped the cooling chocolate on her breasts and purred. “My turn.”

[mellicose]

This was 2016's winner.

[This could be us now, but my askbox is nearly empty.]

Soot and Sweat

A David Tennant Holiday Fic Request

Fandom: David Tennant, Campbell Bain

Wordcount: 7500

Warnings: naughtiness, coal, etc. [smut]

Summary: Campbell sits nude for an artist the day before Christmas Eve. They find ways to give each other a good dose of holiday cheer.

This is based loosely on the winning anonymous request. I say ‘loosely’ since the only thing I’ve changed is the fact it’s one of his characters as opposed to David himself. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t feel comfortable writing David hisownself since I don’t know him from Adam. His characters, though, he generously created and gave to us to lust over to our black little hearts’ content. And I have. And I do, and will. Enjoy, and the happiest of holidays to one and all! 

“You’re lucky - I told you no before based on the assumption that all the models would be off because of the holiday. This guy called me just this morning, asking whether I could find him a job before Christmas. I called you right away,” the TA said, giving her the model’s credentials.

Her eyebrow rose as she looked at the photo.

“I know he’s far from your usual, but I think he’ll do. In any case, it will add some needed excitement to O’Flaherty’s life.”

“He doesn’t like my usual model?” she said, tucking the envelope under her arm.

“He calls her ‘that bossy old bitch’. What d’you think?”

“She’s got spunk. And balls, for sitting in front of a room of young artists and smiling through it all.”

“Sure. Plenty of both of those things,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“She’s brave. They all are. I’ll draw a nude figure, but I wouldn’t sit. Not ever.”

“Really? But you’re an artist. You know we don’t see a model’s body in the conventional sense. Especially you - some of your best sketches have come from the most challenging sitters.”

“I think that speaks more to my psychological state than my talent,” she said, giving him a peck. “Thanks for thinking of me. This extra credit could mean the difference between graduating early or not.”

“I don’t know what the hurry is with you. For some people, art school is the best days of their lives,” he said, smoothing his ugly christmas sweater.

“Perhaps, but I hope that’s not the case with me,” she said. “I’ve got plans.”

“Excuse the hell outta me, Georgia O’Keefe. Do you, then.”

“I will … do me,” she said, tripping over the words. She wasn’t good with colloquialisms.

She called him before leaving the building, but it went straight through to voicemail.

 I’m far too busy poking badgers with spoons. Please leave a message. Or don’t. Whatevs.

The quirky type. They irritated her to no end. She rolled the dice and left a quick message. Quirky or not, she wanted to draw. She was putting the phone back into her bag when it rang.

“This is Sandra.”

“Sandra the artist? This is Campbell. Cam. I’m sorry I didn’t answer straightaway. Shitty mobile - it rings when it wants to. I wouldn’t have known you called if you hadn’t left a message. It vibrates when I get voicemail.”

“I see. I’m glad I did then.”

“Are you available this afternoon?” he asked.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, but she was. “Yes.”

“Then let’s do this thing! Where do you need me?”

She gave him the address to an atelier in the fine arts building.

“Right-o. I’ll see you in an hour,” he said with seemingly inexhaustible energy.

She struggled to get the tiny little wood stove in the corner to warm up. It was an unwritten rule that each person left a sufficient amount of kindling by the stove for the next artist, but the last person didn’t give a fuck.

She was tempted to go outside and start ripping up the bare trees. She looked out the window just as a golden streak ducked into the building. The quick boom boom of steps up the attic stairs, and he walked in, bringing warmth with him.

He stopped short at a look, then waved broadly. “Campbell Bain. I’m sorry I’m a bit late. The buses are running slower than usual.”

She looked at her watch. “Just 10 minutes. It’s not a big deal. I apologize for how cold the room is - I can’t get that damn thing to light.” She kicked toward the stove.

He peeled off his jean jacket and threw it on a dusty sofa by the door. “D’you mind if I give it a try? My dad refuses to enter the 21st Century, so I grew up with one of these in the house.”

He shook her hand hard enough to make her finger bones click and knelt in front of the stove. She was planted in the place he touched her, a pleasantly perplexed look on her face.

Keep reading

[mellicose]

[Last call for requests]

❅ David Tennant Holiday Fic Requests  ❅

So…

It’s Shitscram time, and I haven’t the faintest idea where to start writing a themed fiction. I want ideas.

1) Scroll through many David Tennant photos/videos

2) Stare and sigh

3) Fantasize until you sweat

4) Read through some of my posted fics to get an idea of my style

5) Tell me what you fantasized about (please be as specific/explicit as you dare, I don’t shock easily), and if it intrigues me, I might just write a whole fic about it. I’ll just add a bit of holiday cheer…or something.

I’m open to his whole universe of characters, although I don’t ship (please click on link for friendly PSA). Why write another character in when we can have all the fluffy and/or filthy fun?

You buying what I’m selling? Click that Ask box and tell me what titillates you.

By DT’s cocksock, be quick about it too!

The day is nearly upon us.

[mellicose]

Umm ... my (in)box is empty.

That's unacceptable.

❅ David Tennant Holiday Fic Requests  ❅

So…

It’s Shitscram time, and I haven’t the faintest idea where to start writing a themed fiction. I want ideas.

1) Scroll through many David Tennant photos/videos

2) Stare and sigh

3) Fantasize until you sweat

4) Read through some of my posted fics to get an idea of my style

5) Tell me what you fantasized about (please be as specific/explicit as you dare, I don’t shock easily), and if it intrigues me, I might just write a whole fic about it. I’ll just add a bit of holiday cheer…or something.

I’m open to his whole universe of characters, although I don’t ship (please click on link for friendly PSA). Why write another character in when we can have all the fluffy and/or filthy fun?

You buying what I’m selling? Click that Ask box and tell me what titillates you.

By DT’s cocksock, be quick about it too!

The day is nearly upon us.