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He had her unspoken permission by now to rummage through her kitchen cabinets as he pleased, it seemed, because she wasn’t stopping him from looking for something other than wine to drink after their evening meal. He was actually enjoying these evening meals with her. The things that came after were nice, too, he wasn’t going to deny that, but it had been a while for him since he’d had home cooked meals on a regular basis. His ex hadn’t exactly been the “stay at home wife” type and then there had been trips on the Enterprise and that food wasn’t homemade…
The comfort of having something like this, something that was...well, comfortable, almost made up for the fact that this was just pretend. If it wasn’t for the sex he could almost pretend they were two friends who enjoyed spending a lot of time together.
“How do you feel about vanilla vodka?” Molly asked from the sofa.
“Seriously?” he asked, almost in disgust.
“Well, it’s a rather luxurious brand, I’ve been told,” she said, and he could hear her padding into the kitchen. “It was a gift from a friend who had a hen party recently. All of the bridal party got an expensive bottle of alcohol to take home from the bar and I picked the vanilla vodka because it’s rather good.” She opened the door to her freezer and opened it, pulling out a bottle. “It’s also nearly five hundred pounds a bottle.”
“For that much, they should be using gold encrusted vanilla beans,” he said, taking the bottle from her and examining it. If Chekov was here he was sure he could tell him all about it because there wasn’t a lick of the label in English. It was all in Russian, which he supposed his friend would say meant it was the best vodka. But Molly had already gone to get her over-sized shot glasses and was moving back towards the sofa so he knew he out to join her with the booze while it was still cold.
She took the bottle from him when he sat down and poured him a single shot and her a double. He gave her a look and she smiled. “Just until you tell me if you like it,” she said. “Then you can have a double if you do, or else I’ll break out my whiskey just for you.”
He nodded. “Holding you to it,” he said before taking the shot and downing it quickly. The shock of cold felt good against his tongue and throat, and he was pleased to find the vanilla taste was subtle and masked the taste of vodka that usually made him think he was drinking rubbing alcohol. “Not bad.”
“I got completely pissed at the hen party off of this. Fortunately, I was stopped before I did anything too wild,” she said, drinking her shot before pouring them each a second, this time giving him a double and giving herself a single. “See? Fair is fair.”
“It’s your very expensive vodka, darling. You should get double shots.”
“Oh, you just want me inebriated so you can have your wicked way with me,” she said with a laugh, pouring herself more.
“I could do that if you were stone cold sober and you know that,” he said, picking up his glass and pointing to her.
“Very true,” she said with a nod. She had her second drink and then put down her glass, making no move for more. Truth be told, he really didn’t need anymore, either. There was a nice warmth coursing through him from what he had and that was rather nice. He watched as she turned to face him. “Do you want something to happen tonight?”
“Do you?” he asked.
She didn’t answer verbally, instead moving closer to him. He had been close to the arm of the sofa, and he shifted so she could rest on top of him and he could run his hands up and down her back. Her hair was down tonight and he let the fingers of one hand trail along her spine as she brought her lips to his, kissing him softly, in a lazy sort of way, saying she was going to take her time about things tonight. He approved of this plan; he always wanted more time with her, more time kissing her, touching her, pleasing her.
If he didn’t know better--
He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt her nibble on his lower lip and he let his hand not running along her back tangle in her hair slightly as he cupped the back of her head. He could taste the stronger taste of vanilla on her lips from having more of the vodka and he wanted to taste as much of it as she could, wanted to taste as much of her as he could. He knew slow and lazy wasn’t going to last long when he felt her hand drift down his side to the waistband of the jeans he wore. If she shifted slightly she wouldn’t need her hands to find what she was looking for, she’d be able to grind right against it and then...well, he imagined they’d make their way to her bedroom rather quickly at that point, or at least attempt to. Their record was rather shaky on that score.
But then again, sofas weren’t all that bad either, he realized as her hand found what it was looking for and the kiss heated up before his hand began to edge her shirt up out of the waistband of her trousers. Not so bad at all...