Galatea

Galatea Chapter Thirty Three (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta...so is today the first day? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena get chocolate muses for archiving/hosting. ProPhile is a busty smutmuse. Hee hee. Readers/Reviewers: *happy dance * Thank you!

Beast blinked. "Cecilia, what is that?"
"Um...a nightgown?"
"Are you quite sure?"
She shifted self consciously and fluffed the edge of the short shift. "Well, that's what it says on the receipt..." She could not bring herself to meet his bemused expression so she huffed out a dejected sigh. "Be right back." She hurried into her bathroom and glared at herself under the harsh glow of the overhead light. _You're a thirty something year old woman wearing a bright freaking pink baby doll nightgown. What the Hell were you thinking? _ She eyed the bag from the lingerie store sitting on her counter accusingly and sighed anew. _Okay, fine. Talked myself into it. _ She pulled the short, fluffy, pink thing off over her head and proceeded to try and lace herself into the black satin thing. _God, I'd have to be a contortionist to get into this thing! Oh dear heavens, why does it have a hook and eye closure? What am I closing? _

Beast tried not to bump into anything in Cecilia's bookshelf-crowded bedroom. She was not prone to frills or overtly feminine decoration, but he found himself slightly nervous about being in a room with so many breakable things and so little space for him to move freely in. Carefully, he sat down on her bed and tried not to look nervous. _You've done this before... Granted, it's been a while but... What the Hell was that pink thing she had on? It would've been like making love to a Barbie doll... _ He started as Cecilia opened the bathroom door, muttered a curse under her breath and padded over to stand in front of him. "That's...better..." he managed around the sudden loss of blood from his brain.
She smiled thinly, feeling awkward. "Thanks..." She sat next to him tentatively and they stared at the floor for a long moment before she moved to kiss him.
Beast sighed and tried not to feel clumsy as his hand easily spanned her waist. The gown she wore involved an intricate set of lacings up the back and sides, which he endeavored to loosen as she deepened the kiss, her tongue darting between his lips, paring them as he drew her back onto the bed, laying facing either other. "Cecilia," he finally murmured, regretfully breaking the kiss, "I think you're stuck."
"Huh?" she uttered inelegantly.
"I can't untie these laces..."
She frowned and reached behind her back awkwardly. "Damn it... I think these knots are stuck..."
"Let me see..."
"Don't tear it!"
"Drat...we need a light on..."
She sighed and rolled to her feet. A moment later, the room flooded with the glow of the ceiling fanlight. "I didn't tie it that tight..."
Beast knelt next to her and examined the knots. "I could cut it..."
"Try not to." She was loathe to admit this evening was looking like another loss as Beast fiddled with first one knot, then another, only succeeding in making them worse. "Henry, stop..."
"I think I have this one..."
"No, just...stop..." She sighed and pulled away. "I don't know what I was thinking."
"I do," he said quietly. "The same thing I was."
"You were thinking of wearing slinky lingerie?"
"Who said I'm not?" he grinned briefly. "No, we were both thinking the same thing..." He rose to his feet and took her hands, leading her to the bed to sit again. "Cecilia, I'm afraid you've suffered of late from my attempts at injecting some romance into our relationship."
She snorted softly. "I was starting to wonder if you were trying to give me some Freudian hint ."
"Ah," he smiled, pulling her into an embrace. "I'm a Jungian, you know."
"Never would've guessed." Cecilia smoothed the cursed gown over her legs and sighed again. "I thought maybe...I needed to be a little more...alluring."
"Can I be honest with you?"
"Please."
"I much prefer flannel."
She was silent for a long moment. "I have drawers full of the stuff."
"Then I highly suggest getting out of that black contraption and into something less frightening."
She stood and retrieved some scissors from her bedside table1. "Help?"
Beast began snipping the ties, bits of satin ribbon falling to the floor. "Why do we put ourselves through this? We're intelligent adults. We've been to medical school, for crying out loud, but here we are, trying to be someone we're not..."
She was very quiet as he snipped, the sound of the scissors loud in the small room. "I wanted to be some ideal woman," she finally admitted. "Sexy and smart, not just smart. I wanted to be...I don't know. The person I thought I was when I was sixteen, I guess."
He dropped the scissors and turned her to face him. The gown slipped easily from her shoulders, over her breasts and down her hips to pool on the floor at her feet. "I like the thirty two year old better than the sixteen year old."
"You didn't know me when I was sixteen."
"For which I'm glad. I was an insufferable teenager and I am guessing you were likely the same. It's much better now as boring old fuddy duddies who were flannel and think a nice date is watching PBS and eating spaghetti."
She laughed, oddly unselfconscious in her nudity, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Beast felt like the aforemened ned teenaged self as he found himself pressed against the bed. He had a moment of uncertainty as to where to put his hands but Cecilia seemed to have no such qualms, her fingers fumbling briefly with his zipper before closing around him. He felt his eyes open wide at her forward gesture, but shrugged it off. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
The simple word was enough for him. His baser self admitted to lusting after Cecilia from day one, even while his more sedate, logical self made arguments for and against a relationship and pursued things in a slow, decorous manner. The logical self flew out of the window in one moment as she sighed, arching against him as he shifted to be above her. He wanted to go slow, tried to, but found himself embarrassingly eager. He was pleased, on some level, to find her just as needy as him, her hands seeking in imitation of his, her soft murmurs turning to louder moans as he kissed her everywhere he had imagined doing so, ta her her flesh that had been hidden from him for so long. He ached with his desire and need for her, so badly that he could not engage in the slow pleasuring he had envisioned for their first evening.
She expected it to be uncomfortable, maybe even painful, given her logical deduction that, given his body size, he'd be...larger...than what she had experienced before.2 She closed her eyes tightly as she felt him press against her, her backbrain panicking as it processed dimension and made biological arguments for this being a bad idea. Cecilia bit her lip so hard it bled as he pushed into her, slowly filling her until she thought she would cry out from it. Even though he was careful not to put his full weight against her, she felt trapped beneath him, his sheer size intimidating and making her feel very small. She was not sure if it was antifeminist of her to like that, but she pushed the self analysis aside for a later date as her mind turned to pleasant mush. She felt hot and liquid, her limbs moving of their own accord as he moved against her, each thrust sending thrills of pleasure through her body, culminating in a burning need low in her belly. It was not long before she felt the familiar falling of climax, shivers coursing through her as a moan of completion was torn from her throat, her body arching into his. She cried out anew as he filled her with his own release, his growling moan in her ear making her flush to her toes.
After what seemed like an eternity, he regretfully moved to lay by her side. She curled against him and stifled an unwilling yawn. "Was that what you thought it would be?" she murmured.
"Better."
"Stay the night?"
"I have to be there for Amara's meeting tomorrow."
"I'll set the alarm early."
"Okay then."
"Night, Hank."
"Cecilia..."
"Mmmm..."
"Don't ever change."



1 What? Don't all of you keep scissors there?
2 ProPhile, for you.