Bloody Green

Believe it or not, the picture is of a label on bedsheets. 

This story happens more or less at the same time as May I have another?  

For all the stories in chronological order click on the Almond Croissant (top right). Pun, isn't it? Top is always right. 

Aaaand, spoiler alert, this story mentions a Dom drop, you don't see it often. So read on and drop me a line in comments.

Nick stands in the bathroom doorway with a toothbrush in his mouth, staring at the back of Izzie’s head that sticks just above the couch. With her straight spine, long neck, her hair in two high pigtails rolled into two small buns, she does look like a meerkat, not as horny now as before but still always ready to go.

Izzie stares at her phone screen with their latest banter:

Me:

Bathroom before bedtime?

                        Nicky:

                         Sure.

I want more rough.

                        Rougher. I want more brattiness.

Screw you.

                        You. Gladly.

Nick takes the toothbrush out and clears his throat. No reaction from the meerkat beside a small jerk of her head, the one you bestow on an annoying fly. He wishes he could nuzzle into that soft spot on her neck, but, no, this has to wait, he has a job to do first. Nick whistles softly, and Izzie turns around with a frown.

"Did you just whistle?" she scoffs aghast.

"Uh-huh," he grins.

"Care to explain?"

"Feels better than to text you. I'm going to bed."

"Yeah. And?" Someone ordered more brattiness? Bring it on.

Nick disappears in the bathroom. She can hear the sounds of him rinsing his mouth. "You have ten minutes to turn in. As per our rules, remember?" He reappears with a towel, wiping his face.

"And if I won't, what will you do? Let it slip again?"

"Watch it, young lady!"

"You watch it. I'm reading."

"No electronics before bedtime. Eight minutes."

"Alright, alright, I'm up. I'm up!" She brushes against him on her way, nudging him out with the bathroom door.

Nick waits till he hears the toilet flushing and opens the door again. "Someone needs an attitude adjustment, don't you think?"

"I'm here, it's eight minutes. Duh!"

"I said, attitude. Maybe to give you a little taste of how it will feel like, when I won't let it slip, as you graciously worded my shortcomings." He grabs her chin and forces her to look at his reflection in the mirror. "Colour?"

"Green."

“Green who?” he quirks an eyebrow.

“Green, sir,” she corrects herself quickly. No hesitation here.

He folds her arms on the vanity top, the wide part of it in between two sinks, and pushes her shoulders down till they land on her arms, while his other hand peels off her shorty shorts and white lace panties. Smack!

He bends over to whisper in her ear. "I will tan your hide regardless, but will it be the good girl tanning or the bad girl's?"

"Good girl, please."

"As you wish."

In her three-inch espadrilles and shoulder wide stance, her small bum sticks up high in the air. Nick kicks her feet back closer together, always thinking forward, not to hit accidentally between her legs, only to confirm how impossibly different he is. He sets into an unrelenting pattern of an open hand swat and squeeze, swat and squeeze.

"I don't think that will do, because you were not a good girl today.” Smack! “You were a complete brat, that is.” A harder smack! “A very disrespectful brat." He pauses to rummage through the vanity drawers and picks up a hairbrush.

"No, not the brush," she jerks away. The hairbrush reminds her of the self-spanking days, not a trigger but kind of off-limits. Ah, what the hell, it was worth a try and to add some spice to the otherwise orchestrated scene, thanks so very much.

Smack! "Are you telling me what to do?" He promptly drops the hairbrush back in the drawer and slams it shut. "Bad girls don't get to choose." Smack! "Bad girls get what they deserve. Hold it there."

Nick leaves and comes back with the belt. Izzie rises up while locking eyes with him in the mirror, gleefully in sync, and he pushes her shoulders down again.

"Colour?"

"Bloody green."

"Blood is actually red. Let's try it again. Colour?"

"Green, sir."

All said and done, they are in a so familiar embrace. Nick perks on the wide edge of the tub with Izzie curled up on his lap. He pulls a plush towel from the towel warmer on the wall and wraps her in it.

"Thank you, sir."

"Hope the thanks were for the warm towel."

"You know they weren't."

"Can you drop it already?"

"You like your buzzwords and rituals, I like mine."

Nick nods at the array of bottles and jars on Izzie’s side. “Which bottle can I use?”

“Anything but that expensive face cream.”

“I think that's exactly what I will use. Your sore bum is no less important.” Nick hums contentedly their own Bottom Song to the tune of some long-forgotten lullaby, while spreading some cream over her reddened cheeks. But the pause between the chorus lines is getting longer, his hand just hovers over her bum now. Nick, only surviving there, a wind-up toy with no juice left, the last splash of energy spent on moving them back in the bedroom to crash onto the bed.

"It's over, Nicky. It's all good. You did so well. I'm so proud of you." She coos as she strokes his hair, caresses his cheek, his soft stubble, traces his eyebrow.

"We are not normal, aren't we? Isn't it I'm who's supposed to praise you?" he sighs with a little glint, a sure indication that he’s coming back to life.

She reaches under the covers to check on him. More of a perfunctory check to switch his mind to what's coming next. "Mmm, you're ready for the fun part." She reaches over for the lube bottle and puts tons of it on the only place between her legs that's not wet yet.

A whiff of coconut with some flowery undertone hits his nose. "What's that smell?"

"Coconut lavender. You like coconut, I like lavender, so I made the lube myself."

"You made it??" This woman will never seize to surprise him.

"It's not a rocket science, you know, just added some oils for the scent. I should run a workshop, make your own lube."

"Please don't," his voice finally soft and calm. "By the way, oils are not safe for condoms."

"Thanks for the PSA, Mister Know-it-all. I made it for us. Ready?"

His eyes squint in a triumphant smirk. "I'm not done with you, you insolent brat. Hands and knees. Now!"