DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my imagination. Characters belong to Open Book Productions.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This oneshot is based upon a vividly intense dream I had about Gina and Ani. Spaghetti and sex ahead. Pre-Venice timeline. Ani's POV.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
It's In The Sauce
Slipping through the front door, I quietly take off my shoes, placing them next to your boots. I plop down my keys and camera case on the small table in the entryway.
It's Friday. I'm late home from work. And, you're surprisingly not.
No, you're not late at all.
In fact, you're dancing to some Melissa Ethredge, rocking your hips to the beat. Your perfect ass is swaying back and forth, hugged by the tight jeans you're wearing. Your long, auburn hair is flowing as you hussle around the kitchen. Your fingers frantically chop and dice onions and garlic. They sizzle as you add them to the hot olive oil in the pan.
I walk closer to you. Finally, you look up from your task. And, you smile. A beautiful, brillant smile crosses your face. Your eyes lock on me, twinkling like jade jewels.
"Hey." It's simple yet profound in it's simplicity. Welcome home. I missed you. It means I love you.
I can't help but to smile back, my dimples coming out to play, deep and delightful. "Hey yourself."
"Here, " you say, handing me a glass of red wine. "I've ran you a bath. Go and relax."
So, I do.
I love that you're romantic like this. That you pamper me like this. That you let me in to see this side of you. That I'm the only one that gets to.
The only one.
After Logan, I wasn't sure that you would ever see me as more than just a friend. I wasn't sure you knew how to be faithful. I wasn't sure. But, I took a risk. And, it's been worth it.
I sip on my wine, the cool liquid melting my insides. I sit in the tub, the hot water melting my skin, my stress away. There is a tiny part of me that worries, that wonders if I put you back together right, if you're missing any pieces. Before I can ponder anymore, I get up and get dressed.
I sneak my way into the kitchen. Your back is towards me. I creep up behind you, slipping my hands around your waist. It startles you.
"Fuck, Ani. Warn a gal, why don't you?"
I giggle against your back, pulling you closer.
"Damnit, " you say, hitting the spoon you were using against the stove. "You made me get sauce on my blouse."
I giggle harder.
"You think you're so funny, huh?"
I nod, "Yup."
You turn your head back facing me. "Well, it wasn't."
I lean up and kiss you slow and deep. "Don't pout. Here, I'll help you." I tug the blouse out of your jeans and start upbuttoning it. When I get to the top, I bring my hands back towards your chest. As I cup your breasts, I laugh, "Now, let's get that stain out."
You groan in the back of your throat, pushing yourself more into my hands. I give you one more quick kiss and let go. Turning you around, I slide off your blouse, and take it to the sink. I dabble some vinegar on it, and rinse it off with water.
"All better?" you ask, going back to the sauce.
I drape your blouse on the back of a stool. "All better." I sit at the counter, watching you work. You butter the long loaf of bread, garlic slices adorning the thick crust. Then, you add a sprinkle of salt and a dash of black pepper to the tomato sauce simmering on the stove. "Want a taste?" you ask, holding out a wooden spoon.
I nod and lean forward, taking it into my mouth. Flavors bounce upon my tongue. Garlic. Onion. Basil. Oregano. A bay leaf. And, something else. "Lemon?" I ask quirking my head to the side.
You just shake your head and laugh. "Nope. But, then again a chef never reveals all her secrets."
Hopping down from the stool, I run around the counter. "Aww. C'mon. Tell me. Please." I pout, jutting out my bottom lip and batting my eyelashes.
"Ha! Not gonna work on me this time, Ms. Martin."
"Oh really, Ms. Brogno?" I ask, smirking. "Give me one more taste, and I bet I can figure it out."
You quirk your eyebrow and shrug. "Okay."
I close my eyes and open my mouth. Instead of the hot spoon I'm expecting, I feel your soft lips and wet tongue against my lips and inside my mouth. "Mmmm..." I moan into your mouth. "Delicious."
You laugh against my lips, grabbing my face, kissing me harder and deeper, plunging your tongue in and out. I wrap my arms around your waist again, pulling your bare stomach tightly against me. We kiss for long moments.
When we finally break apart with a gasp, I swear I can see stars. I look at you. Your cheeks are pink. Your lips are plump and bruised. And, your eyes are full of mischief. "So...?" you ask.
"So...I still think it's lemon."
You laugh again. "Nope, but nice try. How about another taste?"
"A real one?"
"A real one." You grab the spoon, filling it with steaming sauce and bring it to my lips. I barely get my lips wrapped around the spoon before you pull it out. Sauce splatters against my tank top. "Gina!" I shrek.
"You did that on purpose."
"And, what if I did?"
Without thinking, I grab a handful of cooked spaghetti from the calandar it sits in in the sink and toss it at you. Noodles land against your chest. You flick them off and take off your bra.
"Hey now, " you warn, pointing at me. "Be nice." Your grab the spoon again, flicking sauce onto my top again.
"Are you trying to be Jackson Polluck now?!"
"Maybe I am."
I grab another spoon, dipping it into the sauce. "I see." I stalk up towards you. You flinch and close your eyes in anticipation. But, instead of tossing it against you, I paint your skin with it. I trail a path from your shoulder down towards your bare chest. Grabbing you roughly in my arms, I lick and nibble my way across your skin, sucking the sauce into my mouth along the way.
Your breath hitches as I take one of your nipples into my mouth. Wet warmth surrounds the puckered flesh, making it grow harder under my touch. "Ani...oh God..." you pant out, holding my head to you, as I take more and more of your flesh into my mouth.
I pull back from you and lift off my shirt, tossing the offending fabric to the side. You grin and stick a fork into the sauce, picking out a meatball. "Try this." You bring the meatball to my mouth, letting me take a small bite. Then, you trail it down across my neck, your lips following the path of sauce you've created.
I moan as you suck long and hard on my skin, marking me, making me yours. My head falls backwards, and my eyes roll back when you reach my breasts. Suckling on one breasts, you massage the other in time to your lips and tongue. "Fuck!" I cry out. Your tongue rapidly flicks over and around my nipple, making it tight with arousal. I dig my nails into your shoulders.
You just groan into my chest, enjoying the pleasurable pain as you continue ravishing my breasts. Back and forth. Hard and soft. I feel myself get wetter as you slip your hands beneath the back of my pajama bottoms, kneeding the soft flesh of my ass. I pull you back up to me, kissing your mouth. Hard and wet and deep.
Pushing me up against the fridge, you reach around to the front of my pants, dipping your hand inside. I groan, loud and deep when you finally brush past my soft curls into my waiting warmth. "I'm so wet for you, Gina."
"God, Ani..." you pant as your fingertips shimmer across the silken, swollen folds.
I beg you, not being able to wait. I need release. Now. "Inside, please."
You plunge into me, fast and hard and deep. The only sounds are our panting breathes, the wet thrusting of your fingers, and the slow bubbling of the sauce. As quick as it started, it ends. My center clenches. My back arches. My heart soars.
Finally, I come back into myself, safe and warm in your arms. "Holy Hell, " you pant out. "That was fuckin' hot. You're fucking hot." You kiss my shoulder sweetly, catching your breath.
I grin against your neck. "You're pretty fucking hot yourself." I grab you, walking backwards down the hallway. "Let's go."
"Where?" you murmur into our kisses.
"To clean off that sauce."
I push you into the bathroom, kissing your hard and deep and wet. I can't get enough of you. All I can taste is tomatoes, and basil, and the sweeness of your lips. But, I know of something that tastes even sweeter, even better. I begin unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the teeth of the zipper down quickly.
After getting you to sit on the bathroom counter, I yank off your jeans and panties. Moving between your legs, I pull you hard against me. As I feel our wetnesses mixing, I groan.
Your hips rock up against me, trying to increase the friction, the pleasure. I kiss my way down your body, flicking my tongue out against your soft skin. I nibble along your hip down to your inner thighs. I breathe hotly against your sex. Your stomach flutters. Your thighs throb. Your scent makes my mouth water.
"Ani, " you whisper, my name a plea, a promise upon your lips. I look up at you, falling deeply into your eyes, into your heart. I wet my lips, the pink tip of my tongue flowing across the plump flesh. I grin.
At the first taste of you, I groan. You moan. I suckle and sip, nibble and nip at the soft skin. I plunge inside, drawing wetness from within you with my stiff tongue. My lips wander up and down, through the folds that call to me, that I thirst for. As I begin to focus my mouth on your clit, I feel you getting closer to your impending orgasm. I slide two fingers up into you, rubbing against that special spot I know will make you fall apart in my arms. It does the trick.
You come hard and fast, your sweet nectar gushing around my fingers and on my tongue. Your thighs pull me close, trapping me to you. Your fingers gradually loosen their hold on my hair. Giving you one last taste, I pull you into my arms.
We spend long moments just holding each other. Comforting and calm. Loving and lust. Safe and secure. Home. That is what you feel like. That is what you taste like. That is what you are.
"I still think it's lemon, " I mumble into your chest as you run your fingers through my damp hair and down my sweaty back.
You chuckle. "The secret's in the sauce."
I huff. "Yeah, yeah..."
You step into the shower and turn on the water. You hold your hand out for me and smile. "Wanna come?"
So, I do.
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