leplusbeau: (relaxed girl (with booty))
[personal profile] leplusbeau
This is a very odd sight indeed.

Bowls are sorting themselves on the counter into manageable stacks. Dishes are being washed with floating brushes, dried, and putting themselves into the cabinets. Vegetables are dicing for a salad. A little too finely but they are self dicing!

Fleur is half inside the oven. Cleaning.

"What iz thiz?! Did these people nevah clean?! There iz a cake in 'ere! A cake! Baked into the side!"

Date: 2005-09-09 01:14 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (contemplative)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
Bill leans against the wall to the kitchen, not sure whether to act as amused as he actually is. "Can I help? We can use magic, certainly?"

If not, he knows he's in big trouble. He'll be calling his Mum for advice, and that won't go over well.

Not that he's ever used an oven himself. Or at least not very frequently... and not for a very long time.

Date: 2005-09-09 01:27 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (worried)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
"Poor Fleur." He helps her straighten up, wraps his arms round her, and kisses the top of her head. "It can't be worse in there than some of the tombs I've seen in Egypt, love. Shall I take a look?"

He can be as brave as need be.

Nothing in an oven can beat a curse-breaker...

...can it?

Date: 2005-09-09 01:41 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (outside)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
"All right."

Upon further exploration he realises there's nothing alive in there at all; the wires from the light bulb are loose, however.


He turns to Fleur. "It also needs a good Scourgify, but we'll have to go buy a new bulb for the light in here. In the name of England, of course." He pauses, smiling. "My Dad would love this."

As the vegetables dice happily, he sets to cleaning the oven as best he can. Three Scourgifies later, and...

"Fuck!" He jumps back, eyes wide, pointing to the oven's interior.

Date: 2005-09-09 02:20 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (smile)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
Bill laughs (but just barely). "No, no, love, I'm just teasing. See?" He points his wand to the oven: the caked layer that looks like decayed anything is gone. "It wasn't really there. I was just playing with you. I promise. See? Lumos." He shows her: the oven is quite clean.

The sides are shiny, even, against the backdrop of mottled black-and-white.

"It was just an illusion, I swear it. The ancient Egyptian wizards used similar things in tombs. We play with them all the time. I've often wondered if they didn't have secret societies just to come up with the most horrid things they could, just to scare people off."

At least it works on Fleur.

Date: 2005-09-09 02:29 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (friendly)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
"Then I'll feel right at home."

He grew up with a ghoul in the attic. "It will keep the neighbours from stopping by to borrow sugar, at any rate."

Date: 2005-09-09 02:37 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (content)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
He pushes the hair back from her face very gently. "Silly Fleur. Everyone knows ghouls don't fancy shoes. They go after orange thongs. Particularly the ones framed and hanging in one's living room."

And then he kisses her, even after the carrot to his head, because she's his wife and she's worried about her clothing.

He finds her simply charming beyond all belief.

Date: 2005-09-09 03:00 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (content)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
"We'll just have to keep your panties out of the oven, then."

He watches the vegetables do their dance. "Shall I bake you a cake?"

Date: 2005-09-09 06:55 pm (UTC)
thecoolone: (do tell)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
"Is it a risk you'd like to take?"

Yes, they could play it safe and only ever eat take-out, but...

Date: 2005-09-09 07:12 pm (UTC)
thecoolone: (longing)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
He shrugs: "I really have no idea how to do it without a recipe book, my love. Sorry to disappoint. Now, where are those..."

Bill disappears into the other room for a moment, then wanders back in holding a book that looks as if it's not once been opened. It's called Cooking for the Single Wizard: Simple Recipes for Complex Times and as he opens it, the spine makes a crackling sound.

Brand new. "Don't tell my mum I never opened this before, right?" He runs his finger down the table of contents, pauses, and nods. "How does this sound?"

It's called Died and Gone to Heaven Chocolate Cake.

"That sounds promising... 2 eggs, love, not 4 or 6... do we even have cocoa powder and buttermilk, or are we going to have to don our bravest, bravest faces and venture out to the Muggle supermarket?"

I can break curses in tombs: I can survive baking a chocolate cake. How hard can it be?

Date: 2005-09-09 11:53 pm (UTC)
thecoolone: (content)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
The differences between yogurt and buttermilk are lost on Bill: he's not wild about either, so he simply shrugs, looking down the list of ingredients: the cup of coffee intrigues him. "I've an idea, love: there's a little cafe down the street. We can fetch coffee there, and if there's anything else we need off the list, pick it up. And then we can christen our kitchen with a lovely cake-baking experience." Reaching over, he rubs his hand on her exposed shoulder.

Or... coffee and ingredient-hunting can wait.

"Whatever you like. Or we can make do with what we have here and..."

And really, I don't want to move my hand.

Date: 2005-09-10 12:21 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (picture perfect)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
He can't avoid blushing. First, her lips are on his arm, brushing lightly (and not so lightly) over his skin. Second, his shirt is now almost completely falling off her shoulders and at the moment, his definition of mix things might not be exactly what she thinks it is.

But he'll be good. "You're the best wife in the world, my dear. The absolute best. Accio mixing bowl."

He wonders for just a moment whether they actually have such a thing, but apparently they do: it presents itself on the counter, next to Fleur and the two eggs and the yogurt and the baking soda and his shirt. Similar things happen when the rest of the ingredients are Summoned and soon they have most of what they need.

Except for measuring spoons.

Bill brushes back the hair from his forehead. "Who knew that baking a cake was so complex. Do you know any precise measuring spells?"

He lets his fingers walk up her thigh.

"Or we could ask our resident kneazle ghoul for help. In exchange for... say... just one of your thongs."

Date: 2005-09-10 12:33 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (smile)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
He tests that flour with his fingertip, then pats it onto the edge of her cheekbone. "Yes, you're right. It will work. And it will be a great deal more fun."

Showing total disregard for the recipe book, he starts adding ingredients at will. It will either be the world's worst or world's best cake, and Bill doesn't really care.

He's just having fun.

"Now, if I could only remember those stirring spells..." He grins at her. "Crack those two eggs into the mix, would you, love, and we'll see what happens? And what's this 'preheat the oven' nonsense?"

The kitchen is soon a mess of ingredients covering the countertop in various stages of use (abuse). One wooden spoon later, Bill stirs the batter, or what he hopes passes for batter. He holds up the spoon; the mixture alternately drips and clumps off it.

"What do you think?" He realises fully that she, most likely, has even less idea of how it should go than he does. "It will be the best cake in existence by the time we're done with it."

Date: 2005-09-10 02:49 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (content)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone

He might mean the batter, but he might not.

Bill does know, however, that most things get better with a bit of tender loving care. He gives the batter another stir, setting the wooden spoon to continue with it while he tends to the other cook.

A tiny part of his mind strongly suspects that for the most part, they'll be dining out or having take-away, and either is fine. Because he's certainly no cook.

And neither is Fleur.

And he loves things that way.

Date: 2005-09-10 05:20 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (in bed with fleur)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
Bake it -- I think not.

Really, there's nothing to do but pick her up and carry her to their bedroom.

Flour and all.

(He does.)

Date: 2005-09-12 03:35 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (sleepy)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
Her shirt -- his, really -- is dropped to the floor rather unceremoniously and for a brief moment he thinks this is so much fun, it should be illegal, but we're married and it isn't before turning his full attention back to his wife.

She's the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he's ever, ever seen and he can't believe his good fortune: she loves him, and because of that, all is right with the world.

Sitting next to her on the bed, her arms still up and over and resting on the second pillow, Bill uses his free hand to brush the hair away from her face before leaning forward to kiss her on the lips, the tip of her nose, her eyelids, her forehead.

And back down again until his lips meet hers, and his hand runs up and down her body, finally resting just above the waist of her jeans. He holds her there for a minute, two minutes, and then reaches for his wand.

He knows a spell or two.

Or three.

And right now, while his lips are otherwise occupied, he's immensely thankful for nonverbal spells because, as he touches the tip of the wand to her skin, he can feel her start to quiver.

Date: 2005-09-12 04:36 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (sleepy)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
He lets the wand rest against her for just another moment because, after all, she's got him there and her lips are so very, very appealing. But there was a plea and he's a gentleman, so he pulls back enough to cast Evanesco on the rest of her clothing: the frayed jeans are Banished to the other side of the room, where they fold themselves almost (almost) neatly onto the chair.

And today's thong (cherry red) follows.

It's just Bill and Fleur now, and slowly, slowly, he lets go of her wrists because where's the fun in her being naked and him being clothed and...

Wait a minute.

He sets the wand aside now because really, it's so much more fun this way. Bill lets his hands explore her body: they run down her arms, and up to her shoulders, and over her chest where they stop, lingering, playing, teasing.

She's perfect.

"You take my breath away." He brushes against her lips with his own, then kisses his way down her neck to where his hands caress her.

He'll let her take care of his clothes... in due time.

Date: 2005-09-12 05:24 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (in bed with fleur)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
As her hand touches him, he looks up, lids heavy, the beginning of a flush on his face.

All he can see is Fleur: the little upturn of her nose, the pink of her lips, the flash of blue visible through her eyelids. There's bed and bedding around her, he knows, but he only sees her: glowing, beautiful, goddess-like, serene.

Even with flour in her hair.

And then he lets his eyes close and kisses her to the rhythm of her thumb's circling: there's something to be said for doing this particular dance in time with one another. It's a song both old and new for them: old because they've danced it before, but new because every time is like the first time: every time is magical.

So magical.

It's hands and lips and tongue and teeth all playing together, and gentle moving, rocking, swaying back and forth.

In their bed.

In their room.

In their flat.

In their paradise.

Date: 2005-09-15 08:59 pm (UTC)
thecoolone: (sleepy)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
His eyes close to the narrowest of slits as she settles on him; he can feel his hips rising to meet hers. It's all involuntary because already, she's got him.

She can do whatever she wants with him.

"Whatever you do, do it nicely."

And quickly.

He catches her hands up in his, fingers locking with hers, and pulls himself up enough so that he can kiss her lips: so soft, so sweet, so seductive.

Date: 2005-09-15 09:27 pm (UTC)
thecoolone: (in bed with fleur)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
It's a sound both ancient and feral that he makes when she touches him this way: the way they match, the way they meet, the way they fit simply astounds him and he thinks, from somewhere far off in the distance no, it's not only about the lovemaking... but it certainly is amazing. She's hot against him, but he's equally intent on not letting go.

Never letting go.

His lips trail from hers, down her neck, and he shifts her on him so that he can reach the line of her collarbone, her sternum, her breast.

Never letting go, never stopping.

She's his and he's hers.


Date: 2005-09-16 04:49 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (sleepy)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
That's it: he rolls her onto her back on the bed that never gets made.

Their bed.

He likes it messy.

He likes it used.

This is his favourite room in their flat, and his favourite thing is to be in this room, in this bed, with her, when there's no hurry and there's no obligation other than to one another. Other than getting to know one another as intimately as possible, each time the first time all over again.

There's no part of her that he doesn't love: he starts at the top, where her hands are back over her head, and trails down her left hand and arm with soft, soft kisses.

And does the same on her right hand and arm.

He kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, her chin, and he moves over her in a slow waltz: kiss kiss kiss, kiss kiss kiss, repeated from head to toe in rhythm.

He loves this spot right here, and this one right here, and this one... well, this one is the one that makes her writhe and quiver and so he lingers.

He lingers.

He's in no hurry.

Date: 2005-09-18 03:31 am (UTC)
thecoolone: (sleepy)
From: [personal profile] thecoolone
She pulls him closer; so far as he's concerned she can do whatever she wants. He won't argue, and so he moves back up her body, his weight resting equally on her and on his arms, and he loves the feel of her leg on him.

Up, up, until his lips meet hers again, and he rocks against her.

It's time to get rid of his jeans.


leplusbeau: (Default)

September 2006

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