Beyond Vanilla
By
Mac jogged his way down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. It was a rainy day and he chuckled to himself, picturing Rose in her anorak, making the rounds of the tanks outside grumbling at the cold.
She'd been in his thoughts a lot lately, and it was disconcertingly good thing-Mac liked thinking about Rose. There were lots of things worth musing on, like how wonderful the nape of her neck smelled, or how she always listened to his stories of hockey victories long past with an enthusiastic smile.
Oh and her talents with pasta and music and tongue-
Tongue. He bit away a wide grin and the pleasant ache in the pit of his stomach tightened a little. Oh yes, Rose indeed had talents there, definitely. The weekend before last had proved that--in a fit of determined mutual lust the two of them hadn't left the bedroom loft of the houseboat the entire forty-eight hours except to use the bathroom and get the pizza delivery at the door. Not that he was keeping score or anything, but quite honestly, Mac was pretty sure that eight orgasms in two days was beyond most men his age now.
The only problem with incredibly good sex was that it was addictive. Highly addictive. Mac frowned.
Not sex, lovemaking, he thought. BIG difference, especially with Rose Clowderbock. When she was his, when they were naked and he was in her--fiercely vulnerable, lost in the taste of her lips, sound of her hungry little gasps, the brilliant blue of her wide eyes as their bodies fused in sweaty primal passion that was the only time she ever said it.
Ever.
It never failed to make him come.
And of course this damned little quirk was driving him crazy. Other women had told him they loved him-quite a lot of other women, Mac ruefully acknowledged to himself. And quite a lot of those declarations had been made in beds, of course. Mac himself had said it.
But.
Rose meant it.
And that was the real difference, as blindingly obvious as cubic zirconium from diamond. She meant it from the depths of her spirit, and try as he might, Mac couldn't resist her breathy declaration. It broadsided him, heart and soul and body every damned time. When Rose said she loved him, he felt the overwhelming rush of helpless pleasure through his heart, flooding his entire soul.
He'd never felt it before with anyone else. Not with Debra or Kate or any one of several other vaguely pleasant memories of his past-the bodies might have connected, and the good times were just that-but no one ever even remotely hit his soul the way Rose's trembling words did.
And that, Mac figured, was nothing short of amazing. Love. Real love, after all this time, all those years---
He found himself whistling as he opened the stairwell door to the Marine Studies Lab.
Outside her office he hesitated. No one else was in the offices, but Mac could hear voices coming from behind the slightly ajar door. She was on the phone, then, and he was about to knock and push his way in when he caught his name. Rose's voice sounded strange, and he hesitated, wondering what made it catch like that.
"Oh Daisy, he's good, trust me-you and I should know good from bad, right? And Mac definitely hits the mark-" came her low tone. It was slightly embarrassed, and by context Mac realized she must have been talking about-
"Any position I can think of and a lot I never imagined. And oral, very oral," she grumbled to her friend over the phone, "so stop asking."
He blushed. A tinny laugh and something else from the friend named Daisy-Mac wracked his brain trying to remember who she was. A college friend, wasn't she?
"Give me a break, okay? On Trotter's scale he's a one, maybe a one and a half. No I'm not going to tell him!" Rose erupted, her voice squeaking. Mac drew in a breath, wondering what had her so annoyed. He shifted slightly.
"Oh geez, Dais--right, like I'm going to tell the love of my life all about my Masters and Johnson project-" Rose snorted, "Get real! I've changed, all right? I settled down and fell for a vanilla man who makes me very happy, end of story."
But there was a slightly wistful not to her voice, and Mac bit his lip. Masters and Johnson, Oh boy. Obviously she and Daisy went back to that notorious sex course Rose kept claiming was mandatory for her major. Mac was definitely intrigued NOW. And what the hell did she mean by vanilla? Boring? He felt his mouth tighten up.
"No," Rose interrupted the other voice on the line, "No you don't understand. Sure it's fun to dabble in all of it, Daisy, but unless the trust and love is locked in solid, it's all kinda pointless. Mac's the one for me, and to be honest-I'd be petrified to bring up the top five, you know? He's too important to me-I can live without the top five, but not without him. Bottom line."
Another session of electronic squawking as Daisy ranted on. Mac half-listened, wondering what the top five were. He mentally counted off in his head: Bondage, costumes, fetishes, role playing
"Enough! Someday, maybe, Daisy, but not now. Sure I'd love it-would be a fantasy come true, okay? He's got the most delectable ass I've ever sunk my teeth into, and I know I could get him to come like a Space shuttle launch, but Mac's from Minnesota, and he's not about to let me spank him. Ever. I might be able to get him to spank me, but let's face it, my dominatrix fantasy days are over."
--Discipline, Mac suddenly remembered with a hot blush. Oh God. Spanking. Rose and spanking. Great--not only was he blushing, he was also sporting serious wood now. His mind was in a whirl as he remembered fragments of conversations and moments in bed that suddenly made sense. Rose was strong, wasn't above wrestling and fighting, a playful slap once in a while-
"I love him, Daisy. And God forbid I would ever jeopardize that for a thrill, you understand? Good."
Mac slowly walked down to the end of the hall, trying to calm his unruly cock and busy mind, leaving Rose a chance to finish the rest of her conversation in private. He made noise as he returned back, and rapped loudly on the door.
"Mac!" smiling, Rose glanced up from her computer screen, beaming at him. He drew in a deep breath.
"Heard there was a real babe working down here-,” he announced, leaning over the desk to rub noses with her. Rose laughed softly.
"Nope, just a cranky old me."
"You look pretty tasty. How about lunch?" he demanded through a kiss.
*** *** ***
Rose finished tossing the salad and checked the timer for the soufflé. She glanced over her shoulder, watching Mac browsing her bookcases and grinned.
"Library's closed for dinner."
"Okay, just a minute-" he called distractedly. Rose carried the salad to the table and picked up her glass of wine. Mac wandered back to her, book in hand.
"I had that dream about playing hockey in the nude again," he muttered, thumbing through the index in the back, "and it's gotta mean something."
"I'm sure it does, but you're not going to find it in the Bondage Bible," she replied, blushing a little. Mac shrugged, not meeting her eyes as he flipped through the pages.
"Hey, I learned that knot in boy scouts," he muttered in astonishment. Rose giggled, taking the book from his unresisting hands.
"I think this is a little bit more than you-"
"-Can handle?" he broke in smoothly, "don't underestimate me, Rose. I have been around the block once or twice you know."
Rose shot him an odd look; slightly intrigued, slightly worried. Mac tweaked her nose reassuringly.
"It's not like I've never tied anyone up-" he tossed out, watching her choke on the mouthful of wine. He crossed the room to the table and kept his back to her, grinning. Score one for Mr. Minnesota. Rose wiped her chin and followed him, her brows coming together.
"Boy Scouts again? Cowboys and Indians?"
"More like Held Overnight for Interrogation-" he replied gently, sitting down at the table and reaching for his napkin. He watched her turn and pull the soufflé out of the oven, trying to keep steady, but her expression was priceless.
"I bet they were all hockey questions, too-" she managed, setting the fragrant cheese concoction on the table and cutting into it swiftly. He grinned.
"I'm not that cruel--gotta draw the line somewhere you know," Mac replied, serving Rose a bowl of salad before getting one for himself. She handed him a plate of cheese soufflé, and he settled into eating, enjoying the cheddar and Edam flavors immensely. Every now and then Rose shot him a look, but he focused on the food and kept their wineglasses refilled.
"That was--really good," he admitted after a while, lacing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. Rose nodded, popping the last crouton into her mouth and giving a little sigh of satisfaction.
"Light but enjoyable. Not too heavy, in case-" she stopped when Mac gave her a wicked little smirk.
"-In case you have strenuous after dinner activities planned. That WAS what you were going to say, wasn't it?"
She blushed, but didn't answer, toying with her wineglass, fingers running on the edge of it. Mac smiled.
"Babe, are you worried about what I said? I didn't mean to shock you, but-"
"-But you did, a little. I just don't see you tying anybody up, Mac. It's just not a picture I can visualize," Rose admitted with a soft laugh. Mac drew in a deep breath.
"I guess so--but I wasn't kidding either. There are things that don't go on the resume. If anybody asked me, I'd be honest and tell them that yes, I know how to build a bong, I can hot-wire a car, make a condom out of a party balloon and wire my house for illegal cable. Doesn't mean I'm going to do it, or need to do it--but I can. I'm not a stranger to vice."
Rose dropped her head forward and laughed, her small shoulders shaking, her curly red hair swaying as the giggles rolled out of her. Mac merely watched her, his smirk threatening to join hers at any moment. Finally, she looked up, wiping her eyes.
"Darling, that was too funny for words. I'm sorry, but MacGyver and vice just don't go together in any context I can conjure up. I mean you're the king of Nice, the ambassador of honesty, the president of-"
"-Predictable sex?" he broke in, waggling his eyebrows. The woman across the table from him flushed a little, but gave a tiny shrug. He sighed.
"That is where you're wrong, Brat," he commented carefully. He stood up, took his wineglass and motioned for her to join him. They walked to Rose's bedroom, and Mac settled himself on the four-poster bed, sitting up against the headboard. Rose scooted up next to him, her own wineglass in hand, and for a moment they watched the fish in the enormous tank that took up one wall.
"Mac, I didn't mean to upset you," Rose softly commented. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head lightly, smiling to himself. The conversation was going perfectly.
"I'm not upset, I'm a little embarrassed, I guess. I've been so-" he lifted her chin to look at her, his dark eyes twinkling, "-crazy about you that I've been kinda careful about--things."
"Things?" Rose looked at him steadily, and a pulse of heat throbbed between them. The look on his face was serious, but intriguing, and she shifted her hips, trying to control the ache between them.
"Yeah. Things. Things beyond who's on top and is there a towel for the wet spot," Mac teased in a low sexy voice. Rose bit her lip at that, feeling the smile cross her mouth again.
"Mac, you've been peeking through my books again, haven't you?"
"Guilty. I wanted to see if I was normal--not the hockey dream, because I'm pretty sure that's a little out of the box--but the other night I was thinking about you and Ummmm-"
"Ummmmmmm?" Rose set her wine down and ran a hand up his chest. He trapped her hand under his; she could feel the beat of his heart, a little fast.
"Well, your ass, to be perfectly honest."
"My ass?"
"It's fabulous. There isn't a guy at the Foundation who hasn't noticed in case you went blind or something. The Clowderbock posterior is one of the perks of working there-" MacGyver teased her gently. Rose snorted, craning her head to look over her shoulder.
"So you love my ass. Thank you. My ass loves you too, but if this is leading back to sex, I have to tell you that certain activities are NOT an option. Much as I adore you, I'm not interested in-"
"Nope, that's not what I was thinking," he interjected hastily. "Not into making a booty call in the literal sense."
Rose giggled again and this time he joined in, hugging her a little closer. Mac took his leg and scooped one of hers, trapping it between his shins playfully.
"Nah, there are more interesting things about your backside. Did you know that when you get mad it tenses up? So cute. And I swear to God you waggle it when you know I'm watching. Very mean of you."
"Mean?"
"Major Bonerville. Makes it a little tough to walk around without drawing attention," Mac commented dryly. Rose looked up into his face and managed a pouty smirk.
"All because of my derriere? Why Mister MacGyver, you rump hound you-"
"I'll smack it--so help me God, woman, you're playing with serious matches here--" he breathed in her face playfully as the erotic tension flared between them. Rose gave a little shudder, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, her own bright and amused.
"You wouldn't dare--"
"Wanna bet?" came his quick, husky rejoinder, and for a long moment they were caught in the heat of each other, not kissing, but oh so close, so very close to it. Rose let her lips lightly touch his in a feather flick of a kiss.
"Mac-That would be very . . ."
"Yeah . . ." he gasped as her hand slid from his chest to his tented fly. She did kiss him then, and Mac pulled her onto him plunging into her mouth deeply, groaning as he did so. Rose straddled him, rubbing her hips against his, making the headboard knock into the wall behind them.
After another pleasure-drenched kiss, Mac cupped her face in his hands, holding her away for a moment as he caught his breath.
"But I believe in being fair about this--" he panted lightly. Rose shot him a flirty look through her lashes, her attention focused elsewhere, he knew. He groaned.
"Rose, you with me here?"
"Oh yesssss, " she purred, fingers sliding up under his shirt. He brought her ear to his lips, in a panic to get the words out before sheer lust made him lose control of the moment.
"SO I think I ought to go first, okay?"
Rose was kissing his collarbone, licking the hollow of it in the sensual way he adored; Mac was breathing hard now, fighting not to just lose himself to the heated talent of her mouth.
"You heard me, right? I get spanked first--" he gasped, his body bucking against hers. She suddenly looked up at him, her face a complete study in astonishment, and he laughed out loud at the sight of her jaw dropping open.
"What!?"
"I get spanked first. You just agreed," he muttered smugly.
"You can't be serious!" she breathed as his words finally sunk in. Mac nodded firmly, his hands busy working on the buttons of her shirt; Rose brushed the hair out of her face and studied the man she was draped over.
"Look Hon, I don't think you know what you're saying. Not to go into too much detail here, but I know a little bit more about spanking than you do--" she blushed.
"-Which means I'll be in good hands, right?" MacGyver replied with confidence. Rose wriggled against him playfully, her expression still pensive. Mac sighed. Very clearly, very slowly, he spoke up.
"Rose, I love you and I trust you. It's kinda important to me that I prove it, okay?" She tried to interrupt, but he laid a few fingers on her mouth to stop her from speaking.
"With you I feel I can say or do anything, and part of that freedom is going a little wild once in a while. I'm human, you know . . ." his expression shifted, looking speculatively wicked.
"Definitely flesh and blood," Rose responded, glancing down between their bodies. Mac grinned.
"Human enough to like the idea of talking dirty to you, or dressing you as a cheerleader or even yeah, spanking you. But it goes both ways, Brat."
"So you think you want me to spank you?"
"I don't think, I know. Fair's fair."
Rose sighed. Sitting up, she climbed off of him and drew herself up on her knees.
"Then we better get started," she told him mildly. Mac raised an eyebrow, a little trickle of worry threading through him.
"Right now?" he bleated.
"No time like the present, Mr. I'm Human," Rose purred. She slid off the bed and crooked a beckoning finger at him, "We need to make a trip to the kitchen."
Mac climbed off the bed with a sense of regret; his disappointed cock was beginning to realize no immediate action was forthcoming, and despite his brave words, he had no idea that Rose would take up his offer ASAP. He lumbered out to the kitchen, a sheepish expression on his face. Rose was digging in a drawer, laying things out on the counter.
"All right, my luscious hunk of soon to be burning love, choose your instrument of punishment."
"My--?"
"I'm not going to use my hand, Mac. For one thing, I'm not strong enough to even dent that steel ass of yours, and for another, it's a little extra thrill to use something else. Take your pick."
Mac glanced down at the assorted items on the counter and burst out laughing.
"A spatula, a wooden spoon, a whisk-you're turning this into a Bake Off, Brat."
"Hardly. Each one of these would be a different sensation," she told him lightly, the voice of experience. He shot her a speculative look and licked his lips.
"So what do YOU prefer, sweetheart?"
"When it's my turn, I'd love your hand because it's so big and warm," Rose confessed, "But the spatula would be my second choice. It makes a nice sizzle."
Startled, Mac felt a throb through his groin at her sultry words. He picked up the yellow handled spatula and stared at it.
"Good enough," he huskily muttered back at her. Rose nodded. She stared at him for a moment.
"Have you been bad, MacGyver?" Her tone of voice was low and seductive; he felt himself stir again. He gave a slow nod. Rose pursed her mouth dramatically.
“I see,” she purred, “Well then, let’s figure out what to do.”
Rose moved into the living room, looking around at her furniture and thinking. Mac chuckled to himself, perfectly aware of her logistics problem; namely his twelve inches of extra height. She pulled out the green velvet ottoman and nodded to herself, then rolled it into the bedroom, Mac trailing behind her.
She locked the wheels and sat down, smiling up at Mac in a way that made a hot shiver run through him.
“Now I’m a little worried,” he confessed, handing her the spatula. Rose didn’t smile.
“You should be, Mac,” she warned softly, “but I promise you I’ll make it all better when we’re done. Right now I need you to get the aloe gel from the bathroom.”
Mac did so, handing her the bottle, which she set aside. Rose drew in a deep breath, and he sensed her controlled excitement.
“MacGyver, tell me exactly what you did—“ Rose ordered softly. He ran a hand through his long blonde bangs.
“I eavesdropped on you, Brat. I listened in on your conversation this afternoon,” Mac confessed, his mouth suddenly dry. Rose was twirling the spatula in her hand, looking up at him and licking her lips. Suddenly his jeans felt tight. Very tight.
“I see. So you deliberately caught an earful of a private conversation.”
“Yes,” he admitted. Rose frowned, but her blue eyes were glowing. She gave a patently phony sigh.
“Oh Mac, that was bad, naughty and unacceptable. You’ve violated my trust in you.”
He bit his lip to stop his grin, wanting to laugh at her dramatics. It was funny and charming and erotic as hell, having her smolder at him like this.
“I’m really sorry, babe.”
“Before I can accept an apology, you need to be disciplined,” Rose replied, using the spatula to touch his thigh. Mac looked down, following it as she traced it over his straining crotch.
“Do you want me to spank you, Mac?”
He drew in a breath, and suddenly sighed.
“Yeah.”
“Very well. Take your jeans down, Mister MacGyver—“ came Rose’s breathy command. Mac’s fingers fumbled as he worked the buttons of his fly, and he inwardly cursed at himself. Finally, he managed to get them undone, and shoved them down to his knees. Rose ran the spatula up one strong furry thigh.
“Lower, Mac—“
He bunched them to his shins, breathing erratically now, dimly fascinated at his own response. Rose sighed.
“Boxers too, bad man. You’re going to FEEL this—“
“Geez—“ he blushed to the roots of his hair, but slid his hands inside the waistband of the boxers and let them drop. Standing there, pants around his ankles, exposed and hard, he felt an odd exciting mix of lust and humiliation. Rose smiled.
“All right. Lay yourself across my lap and get comfortable,” she told him as she tugged her skirt up, revealing her smooth bare thighs. Mac gulped. Awkwardly he dropped to his knees, but Rose shook her head.
“If you’re on your knees It’s not going to work. I want those legs straight.”
Awkwardly Mac managed to lean forward in a position that seemed to suit her; he gasped as his already stiffening cock slid against her warm thigh, trapped under his body. She seemed not to notice.
“Mac, you deserve ten good smacks for what you did. Do you agree?”
“Ummmmm?” he muttered, trying desperately to control himself. The warm smell of Rose’s skin was driving him slightly crazy, and he toyed with the idea of pulling her off the ottoman and just making love to her on the carpet, but he nodded.
“Yes.”
“Good—“ A soft whistle, and suddenly Mac jerked as a sizzling sting landed on his left cheek. Rose rested her other hand on the small of his back, steadying him.
“One,” she counted in a strained voice. Mac gritted his teeth. Another whistle and a second sting burned his right cheek.
“Two,”
He drew a harsh breath, tensing against the next blow. As Mac shifted, he felt his cock nudge into the cleft between Rose’s thighs. She trapped it there with her strong muscles.
Mac gasped, but not in pain. No, definitely NOT in pain.
Another blow landed squarely on the middle of his ass, lighter than the first two, but he jerked forward anyway, feeling his cock slide warmly against her skin, now slickened with aloe, he realized. He groaned at the sensation, and Rose rained another blow on his ass, the spatula sizzling against his muscled rear.
By the seventh blow, Mac was grunting, sweating as he hung in the balance between pain and pleasure. His ass was burning, but his cock was throbbing harder than it ever had. He gripped the carpet tightly, fighting against the pleasure of Rose’s lubricated thighs around his throbbing shaft.
“Eight,” A light swat this time, a gentle kiss of plastic utensil against his bottom. He groaned.
“Nine,” Harder this time with a real sting to it; he twitched, fighting and drive to thrust hard between those gripping thighs.
“TEN, you naughty man—“ Rose sighed as the last smack landed right in the middle. She dropped the spatula; Mac pushed on the carpet, lifting himself off and away from her, trembling and impossibly hard. Rose reached for him, sliding her legs up the outside of his; he dropped to his knees, pushing her back onto the ottoman, shoving himself deeply into her tight wetness, a deep groan escaping his fine lips. Rose squealed.
“Wantyou,wantYOU—“ he grunted loudly as he thrust, his hands going under her shoulders and gripping them tightly. Rose locked her ankles high behind his ribcage, panting into his face. Half dressed and driven by sheer lust, they rocked together, making love at a furious pace. Rose arched up, gasping.
“Oh God I love you Mac, I LOVE YOU!” she shrieked, her body quivering under his, her head rolling from side to side in passion. Mac gave a shuddering thrust, his thick cock gushing deep within her in long rolling spasms of pleasure.
Mac dropped on her, weak and utterly relaxed, his heavy weight a comforting blanket on Rose. She clung to him, still trembling with the aftershocks of her own powerful orgasm.
She kissed his damp forehead, working her way to his ear.
“Oooohhhhhhhh that was intense, MacLover . . .” came her happy sigh. He managed a nod as a trickle of sweat rolled down his chin.
“I never, never, NEVER thought it would be like that,” he confessed, velvet brown eyes wide as he stared at her. She nodded, letting him continue.
“I mean that hot aching balance between sting and zing—not that I’d want to do this all the time or anything, but whoa! It’s a hell of a sweet trick, Brat,” he admitted in a low honest voice, “At one point I even thought I might—“
“—Yeah I know. I loosened up,” Rose smiled at him, “Didn’t want to end up with a lapful—THIS round,” she finished warningly. He blushed, nuzzling her face.
“You didn’t say it this time, you yelled it,” Mac reminded her with a surge of happiness. Rose nodded shyly; running her leg up the back of his thigh, foot caressing the warm muscle.
“Sure did. I also tried to go light on you, but I’m afraid you’re going to be a little sore tonight. I’ll put some aloe on it for you—“
“Oof—“ Mac reluctantly rose off of her, withdrawing slowly and sending an exploratory hand over his backside.
“Oh yeah, this isn’t going to be pretty—“
He hobbled to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror, a faint grin on his face.
“Not too bad—only one or two of those swats really hurt; most are gonna fade overnight.”
Rose came up and took his hand, leading him back to the four-poster bed and gently pushing him facedown on it.
“Rubdown time . . . I hope you learned your lesson, Mac.”
“I dunno—I can be pretty recidivistic at times, Brat. I may need a follow-up lesson every now and then.”
Rose lightly spread cool gel across his rump; Mac sighed with pleasure. She chuckled.
“Fair’s fair I guess. Besides, it’s gonna be my turn next anyway.”
Mac’s eyes flew open.
No.
No way he’d do this to Rose.