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sugar and spice (and everything nice),
that’s what biscuits are made of . . .
Ted tries to shake off the match. He really does. But boy, this first loss is a doozy.
Even he’s got to admit they got their butts handed to them by Crystal Palace. He can still hear the chants of “Wanker!” echoing throughout the stadium and the way Roy glared as he shoved his way past him in the tunnel. It was one of those looks that stayed with you for days, weeks, months even.
Yeesh. Talk about a rough first showing.
Putting on a brave face in the locker room is part of the job, but it’s nice to step away for a minute, to walk to the other end of the club, far away from all the whispers and stares.
Even if it means facing the person who brought him here in the first place.
He takes a deep breath and makes his way up the stairs to Rebecca’s office, a slice of birthday cake in hand and his metaphorical tail between his legs.
When he arrives at her door, she’s absorbed with something on her laptop, swiping the trackpad with a small smile that makes Ted’s shoulders relax. At least she seems in good spirits despite the loss.
But that’s not a surprise. Not much seems to rattle her. It’s a good quality in a boss, good quality in a person too.
She’s a tough cookie, that’s for sure. Running this whole club while dealing with her divorce and defending him in front of the press room when they came after him. It’s good to know there’s someone on his side, someone who believes in him.
Hopefully she still does.
Well, there’s no use stalling. He takes a deep breath and steps inside, holding the slice of cake up like a confectionary olive branch.
“Hey, boss.” Rebecca tears her gaze from her laptop and he tries to ignore the way her expression falters slightly when she registers him. “I come bearing sweet treats to numb the sting of defeat.”
“Oh, thank you.”
She takes the plate with an awkward smile, setting it on the desk. That’s fine. He didn’t expect grocery store cake to make everything better. Sometimes you just need a little sugar to get in the door or however the saying goes. If that is a saying? Aw heck, he’s brain-tied and he hasn’t even said the thing he came here to say.
“Just so you know, we can play a lot better than we showed today. I know it would mean a lot to the guys if you just came down, joined in. Let 'em know you're still in their corner.”
She gives a tight-lipped smile in return and he puts his hands up to signal he’s done, his pitch made. The ball is firmly in her court.
“That's all the arm twisting I'm gonna do though, okay?”
He drops his hands and flashes one last smile before turning to leave.
“Ted!” She calls after him, her posh accent making the single syllable sing, stopping him in his tracks.
He glances back at her, wary of whatever might be coming. A rebuke for the loss? Concern about team morale? Some other way he’s messed up in his first week?
“You know what might convince me?” She tilts her head and looks up at him through long lashes, her eyes dancing mischievously. “If you told me where you got these delicious biscuits.”
A warm glow fills his chest as she tilts her head more, her bright green eyes locked on his. He kind of guessed she liked the biscuits, but it’s nice to hear she’s still thinking about them now, that she wants more.
There’s something familiar about it. Maybe it’s the jet lag talking, but it almost feels like they’ve had this conversation before.
“Well, if I did that, I wouldn't be able to bring you more on Monday, would I?”
Rebecca gives a tight smile and a small shake of her fist that makes him chuckle quietly. Oh, he’s gonna have fun with this, that’s for sure.
But he doesn’t turn to go this time. He slides his hand in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, taking in her office.
He likes it up here. Rebecca doesn’t seem too upset by tonight’s loss and downstairs he’ll have to look the team in the eye and tell them they’ve got this. Roy will probably growl at him again, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. Then he’ll have to go back to his apartment. Alone. Just him and his thoughts.
“Would you like to stay for a drink?” she asks as if she read his mind. “To numb the sting of defeat or however you put it?”
A few minutes won’t hurt. Maybe it will be better if he gives the team some space to celebrate Sam’s birthday without him.
“Yeah, okay.”
He lowers himself onto the couch, letting himself sink into it with a quiet grunt. It feels good to sit after all that, to let his feet rest for a moment.
His eyes slide around her office, taking it all in. It’s cozy this time of night, with the lamp behind the couch and lit candles scattered around the room. Even the pitch looks sleepy with the big flood lights turned off. Like someone has put it to bed for the night.
Rebecca hands him his drink and settles beside him on the couch, toeing off her heels and curling her legs beneath her.
She’s awfully close, the scent of jasmine and something familiar surrounding him. Wild flowers, his brain supplies, like the ones in his yard growing up back in Kansas. It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but the sense memory hits him like a kick to the chest.
He glances down at his left hand on the back of the couch, just a few inches from her shoulder, he could drop his thumb and graze the spot between the fabric of her blouse and her neck.
He frowns at his bare ring finger.
Rebecca places her drink on the coffee table and turns toward him, her piercing eyes studying him in the dim light.
“Is something bothering you?”
He flexes his hand, trying to remember what’s supposed to be there, but he’s drawing a blank.
“Nope, not really.” He tears his eyes from his finger and smiles. “I just wish I’d been able to give you a win, that’s all.”
“It’s fine, Ted. It’s one game and I’m sure you’ll get them next time. Now, back to the biscuits.”
He barks a laugh, loud and surprised. He likes her. She’s funny and sharp, always keeping him on his toes. It’s been awhile since anyone bothered giving him a run for his money. Most people just let him steamroll on by.
He taps his finger against the rim of his glass. “You’ve got a one-track mind, I’ll give you that.”
She smirks and leans toward him, her blouse falling forward revealing the top of her breasts, her black bra visible from this angle. It could be an accident, but it sure doesn’t feel like it.
There’s no big, wide desk between them, no Biscuits with the Boss paradigm to fall back on. Just the soft velvet couch beneath his hands and the heat of her knees inches from his thigh. It takes him a second to remember what they were talking about.
“You really liked the biscuits, huh?” he asks, raising his eyes to meet her gaze. Her smirk deepens and he knows he’s been caught staring.
He smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Her smile is warm. “And I did. Like the biscuits that is.”
“Well that’s good. I’m happy to hear it.”
They lapse into a charged silence, a real zero to sixty energy that he can’t quite explain, but she’s biting her lip and tilting her head, considering him carefully as she contemplates her next move.
“But you’re not going to tell me where you got them?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Hm. Interesting.”
With a slight shift of her hips, she’s nearly on top of him, one hand unbuttoning the top of her blouse as her other hand slides up his thigh, slow and teasing. He grips his drink, trying not to move as she trails her finger tips higher.
“Is this okay?” she asks, her hand just inches away from the bulge between his legs.
His mouth goes dry, his brain shouting for her to keep going.
“Yeah,” he manages, voice tight.
“What about this?” she asks, palming him through his khakis. “Do I get three guesses about the biscuits if I do this?”
He drops his head back against the couch.
“Pretty sure that’s three wishes, but what do I know?”
She unbuttons his trousers and drags down the zipper. “And what if I do this?”
He shivers when she takes him out of his boxers, fingers wrapped firmly around him. She slides her hand up and down, wrist twisting at the top making him buck up into her.
He’s pretty sure his brain’s just short circuited.
“Jesus, Rebecca. You keep doing that and I’ll send you the recipe.”
She pauses, holding the base of him.
“You made them?”
He nods, not caring how quickly he gave up the game. It feels too good. He’d do anything to keep her here, touching him like this.
“Why?”
Were they really having this conversation right now?
He groans when she moves again, running her thumb over the top of him, gathering moisture before she starts to pump him slowly.
“Ted, why did you bake the biscuits?”
“Because,” he gasps, “you liked them so much.”
It’s an easy answer, one that falls from his lips without any thought. He liked how responsive she was after one bite, it made him feel good that he’d made her feel good. Sure she didn’t know he’d made them, but it felt like praise all the same.
It takes him a moment to realize he’s said all that out loud, not until Rebecca places a hand over his mouth to muffle his babbling speech.
The next thing he knows, she’s throwing her leg over his thighs and straddling him.
“Rebecca—
She shakes her head and that’s enough to shut him up.
“Just fuck me. Okay?”
He nods, unable to form a sentence when he’s got a lap full of Rebecca Welton. Her arm wraps around his back to leverage herself as she rises up just enough to find his cock, hard and leaking after all the teasing.
It doesn’t take long for her to line him up and sink down, gasping loudly against his ear as she slowly stretches around him. He groans into her neck when he finds her soft and wet and ready for him, his hands flying to her hips for something to hold onto while she adjusts to the size of him.
He doesn’t know what happened to her underwear or his drink, but he doesn’t question it, just pulls back and watches as she closes her eyes and rolls her hips, a blissful smile curling across her face.
He knew she was beautiful, there was no denying it, but this is something else. Soft blonde curls falling around her face, her updo gone somewhere between her desk and here in his lap, riding his cock like she’s done this a million times before, the slick sound of them filling her office.
It’s so easy and simple, he wonders why they never thought to do this before.
He slides a hand up her side and cups her breast, thumb brushing over her sensitive bud through the thin fabric of her blouse until she’s squirming in his lap, her rhythm faltering just enough for him to feel smug.
He imagines what it would be like to touch her for real, her soft skin puckering against his palm, his lips, his tongue. How much louder she’d be if they’d bothered undressing and he could bury his face between her thighs, making her shout his name so loud it rang out the open window and across the dark pitch.
Next time, he thinks, as he holds her hips in place and thrusts into her, pleasure building quickly at the base of his spine. They’ll take their time, they’ll do everything.
She curls over him, rocking with his movements as she whispers something between a wish and a demand.
“Come for me, Ted.”
His orgasm hits him like a bus, it comes so fast and sudden, but he swears he feels her come around him too, nails digging into his shoulder as she shouts against his skin.
~*~*~*~
Ted wakes with his hips pressed into the mattress, his sweatpants a sticky mess. He rolls on his back and stares at the ceiling, blinking at the fan spinning overhead.
“Well that’s new,” he whispers, his voice echoing slightly in the empty bedroom.
It’s been three years since that evening in Rebecca’s office, a very different evening, he has to remind himself as his brain pieces together what’s real and what’s not. The A/C turns on and it helps ground him, a gentle reminder that he’s back in Kansas
But he doesn’t want to be reminded. Not yet.
He presses his palms to his eyes and tries to hold on to the dream a little longer, Rebecca smiling down at him as she rides him in that office he spent so many hours in, on the couch he’d never found quite as comfortable or appealing as it was just a few minutes ago.
His cock gives another twitch and there’s no denying how much his body likes that idea.
It might be new, but it’s not unwelcome.
He thinks he should probably feel guilty about it, but the guilt never arrives, just a deep current of curiosity he wants to follow and see where it goes
He leans over to check his phone, perched on a pile of unpacked boxes, and sees the text message he got just before bed.
Happy first night in the new house, Ted.
(Send biscuits when you can xx)