Author's Note: Just wanted to say thanks to a few good friends who inspired this holiday romp. You know who you are. Enjoy and, for my American friends, Happy Thanksgiving!
THANKSGIVING: Or, Alex dons an apron and Olivia gets stuffed
With a heaved sigh of satisfied relief, Alex closed the oven door behind her turkey and dialed the timer to ring in two hours. She dusted her hands on her apron, settling her fists onto her hips and surveying the kitchen. It was a scene of organized chaos, just like it was every year on Thanksgiving. Alex simply didn't understand her wife's need to cook such an elaborate dinner when it was just the two of them but, as a matter of course, she always went along. And she always ended up consuming a month's worth of turkey sandwiches afterwards. It was tradition, she supposed, and traditions were meant to be kept. She smirked to herself. Traditions were all well and good and, this year, Alex planned to introduce a brand new tradition into their celebrations. This year, Alex would be cooking not one turkey, but two.
Picking up her specially prepared tray, Alex put on her homiest grin and hurried towards the bedroom. She had just heard the shower shut off. Olivia would be out soon, freshly scrubbed and wrapped in a towel. Alex set her tray aside and sat down to wait for her unsuspecting bird.
Sure enough, within two minutes, the bathroom door swung open and belched out a cloud of steam and one towel-clad woman. Olivia jumped a little, clearly surprised by Alex's presence on their bed. "Oh, honey, you sca…" Olivia's jaw dropped open and her hand, busy rubbing her short hair dry with a hand towel, froze in place. Her brown eyes scanned Alex's body, draped in a well-used brown apron and little else. Very little else, in fact. And the tray, laid out with all sorts of implements… all the implements needed to prepare a Thanksgiving turkey. Clapping her jaw shut, Olivia resumed combing excess moisture from her hair and turned towards the closet. "Hell no, Alex. I have too much to do. And I just showered." Huffing with scandalized disbelief, she tugged a blouse from its hanger and headed for the bureau.
She never made it. Fully expecting her wife's resistance, Alex had already devised a plan to change Olivia's mind. She would use her deadly weapon, the one tactic that Olivia could never refuse. "Pretty please, Livvy?" As she simpered, she pouted her lips and made puppy-dog eyes, fluttering her eyelashes. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?"
Olivia returned her wife's pathetic expression with a suspicious gaze. Alex Cabot did not say 'pretty please'. And she did not call Olivia 'Livvy'. She was very obviously up to something or other, something that would likely cause Olivia some discomfort at the very least. All the same, Olivia felt her resentful curiosity become piqued. And she never could resist her wife's big blue eyes. She rolled her eyes dramatically and held out her blouse for Alex to hang up. "Fine," she scowled, "but you listen for the timer. This was your idea. I'm not taking responsibility for charring the turkey."
Instantly perky, Alex plucked the blouse from Olivia's hand and pecked her on the cheek. "Thank you, sweetie." She smiled widely, scooting past her wife only to turn and snatch the towel from around Olivia's body. She laughed with open-mouthed glee at her wife's sharply offended look. "What? I know you'd just leave it in a heap on the carpet anyway. Besides, you won't be needing it. Now lie down like a good turkey, I mean, girl and I'll be right back."
As she hurried to dispose of the garments, Alex listened to Olivia's quiet grumbling, satisfied that, despite all of her resistance, her wife was indeed crawling onto the bedspread. Alex shook her head in adoring bemusement. For all of Olivia's bluster, she really was very easy to figure out and order around. All it took was a little well-played wheedling and Olivia would end up naked in Alex's bed. For a moment, Alex wondered if she should let Olivia know how simple this was for her. Nah, she smirked. It was more fun this way. She perched on the edge of the bed and wiggled her fingers excitedly over her tray of goodies, finally selecting a bottle of silky massage oil.
"Aha," she quipped. "The first step of preparing a Thanksgiving turkey is thawing but, as you've so helpfully thawed yourself, I guess we'll move on to step two: rubbing the skin with butter." She clicked open the oil and drizzled it liberally over Olivia's back, admiring the puddles that formed between defined shoulder blades. With both of her hands, Alex began to rub with gusto. She could feel Olivia's irritation melting away under her hands. In no time, she would be well oiled and ready for roasting. And, of course, whatever other culinary tactics Alex might decide to try out.
Drawing her slick fingers down over Olivia's ass, Alex paused for a solid, satisfying smack. "My, my, aren't you just the juiciest turkey I've ever had the pleasure of cooking." Olivia growled. Alex giggled. Preparing Thanksgiving dinner had surely never been so much fun. "I'll take that as a sign that it's time for step three: trussing. Wings behind your back, Gobbles."
Turning her head, Olivia glared playfully up at her wife. "God, Alex, really? Gobbles?"
Alex tickled her chin. "That's Chef Alex to you, Tom Turkey. And my turkeys don't usually insist on talking back to me. You see," she murmured, leaning down to brush her lips against Olivia's ear, "turkeys that don't behave themselves don't get any stuffing."
Alex clapped her hands in delight as Olivia pressed her lips together and – God, she was so predictable – crossed her wrists at the small of her back. Whistling gaily to herself, Alex set to work, buckling soft cuffs around Olivia's wrists. "Drum sticks too, Birdie. Get them up here."
This time, Olivia complied without complaint. Alex wrapped similar cuffs around her ankles as she persisted in teasing. "That's a good birdie," she cooed. "It just wouldn't be Thanksgiving if you didn't get a heaping serving of stuffing, now would it?" With a flourish, Alex clipped an x-shaped leather device to all four cuffs. She checked the clock and gloated inwardly. Damn, it had only taken fifteen minutes from her first confrontation with her wife to hogtieing her on the bed. She stifled a giggle. Perhaps turkey-tieing would be a better descriptor in this instance. With one long finger, Alex tickled the hopelessly exposed sole of Olivia's foot, eliciting a distinctly affronted grunt. "Damn, I'm getting good at this. Do you remember that first Thanksgiving, Cranberry Sauce? When we ended up at that questionable diner? Bet you thought I'd never learn to dress a turkey, huh?"
Alex chuckled. Though Olivia had pressed her mouth to the mattress, Alex could still make out her wife's shoulder-shaking laughter at the memory. It certainly had been one of their most memorable Thanksgivings together. Alex had, against her instinct for self-preservation, insisted on making herself responsible for the turkey. Olivia was taking care of the rest of the dishes, after all, and Alex had figured that the turkey couldn't be that hard. Just stick it in the oven and wait for the timer. Unfortunately, for that plan to work, one had to remember to set the timer. Alex had not. Thanksgiving dinner had ended early that year, cut short by the generous application of a fire extinguisher and windows opened to let freezing air clear out clouds of olive-oil smoke. Instead of a enjoying a home-cooked feast, Alex and Olivia had given thanks for French fries and stale club sandwiches. And Alex had made it her mission to learn to roast the perfect turkey. She surveyed her sleek, trussed wife. Clearly, she was well on her way to meeting her goal.
"So, how am I doing, Pumpkin Pie? You're the turkey. You ought to be able to judge my progress."
"Very nice, Alex. Please tell me you remembered the timer. I can't reach the fire extinguisher from here."
Planting one knee firmly on the mattress, Alex grasped Olivia's ankle tightly and set on her instep with dancing fingernails. Olivia craned her chin over her shoulder and laughed, straining uselessly to extract her foot from Alex's torturing grasp. Alex only chuckled wickedly. "Chef Alex, remember, Gravy Boat? Now gobble like a real turkey." She doubled her efforts and Olivia practically shrieked with laughter.
"G… G…"
"I can't hear you," Alex chortled in a sing-song voice.
"Gob… Gobble!"
With one last patter of fingernails, Alex released her captive drumstick and gave her turkey a chance to catch her breath. "That's more like it. I think it's time for step three, then. It's time to stuff the turkey!" Kneeling fully on the bed, Alex lifted her Magic Wand vibe for Olivia to see.
"First we prepare the stuffing, making sure it's nice and moist. Otherwise you run the risk of a bird that is tough and dry." She clicked open the lid of a vial of lube, the kind that warmed the skin on contact, and slathered a palm-full over the round head of the vibrator.
"Then, using your fingers, prepare the turkey's cavity." Sliding two slick fingers between Olivia's legs, Alex began to stroke her wife's folds. "My goodness, you are a wonderfully moist turkey, aren't you? Tell me the truth. Have you been basting yourself while I wasn't looking, you dirty birdie?"
Continuing her rhythmic strokes, Alex tilted her head to more easily watch her wife's reaction. Olivia's color was high already and intensifying with every teasing word and movement between her thighs. Even though her position was awkward, Alex leaned down and, slipping her hand beneath Olivia's cheek, captured her wife's lips in a deep kiss. She walked her fingers lower, gently grazing Olivia's still-shy clit with her fingertip and giving it a taste of self-heating lube. Olivia shuddered at the contact, moaning almost silently into Alex's kiss. Alex gave her one final peck.
"Mmm," she hummed, running her free hand admiringly over Olivia's heated skin from ear to hip. "You are coming along very nicely." Very gently, she adjusted the angle of the hand between Olivia's legs and slipped her index finger slowly into her wife's vagina. Continuing to caress Olivia's oil-slick back, she moved her finger, relishing the silky heat and searching for just the right spot, the one that would push her wife close to the edge. She grinned. She curled her finger. Olivia gasped, her toes curling. "Very nicely indeed."
Without warning, Alex suddenly became still, stopping the movements of both hands. "Oops! You know, I'd better go see how my other turkey is doing, huh? I'll be back in a minute." She moved to withdraw her finger. Olivia came alive with delicious vehemence.
"No!"
"No? You want me to stay even if I burn Thanksgiving dinner? Even if I light your oven on fire?"
"Fuck the turkey. Fuck the oven, Alex. If you leave me, I'll never forgive you."
Alex choked back her smug laughter. So much for resistance. Olivia was now issuing red-faced demands that Alex keep pleasuring her, regardless of the state of her precious dinner. God, this was so easy, Alex thought with satisfied amusement, like taking candy from a baby.
"Fuck the turkey? I suppose I could do that. If you ask very nicely."
Olivia let her cheek fall back to the mattress and sighed. "Please, Alex. Chef Alex. Just… get on with it. Please."
"Very nice. Now ask me in turkey-speak."
Olivia pressed her eyes hard against the sheets as humiliated heat pricked at her skin. "Gobble, gobble, Chef Alex." Alex's finger curled inside of her. Olivia gasped in relief.
"Well, then, Butter Pat, it's time to get stuffed." Crawling, Alex settled herself behind her wife, the better to nuzzle the wide head of the vibrator between Olivia's legs. She clicked it on and Olivia instantly stiffened, her limbs jerking at the irresistible cuffs. Craning, Alex kissed the tip of Olivia's big toe and pressed the pad of her finger against that special spot. "Say my name, Gobbler."
"Ch… Chef Alex." Olivia's voice was a distant grunt. Alex rewarded her, curling her finger.
"Say…" For a moment, Alex's creative thoughts abandoned her. Olivia was just the picture of distraction. Alex licked her lips. "Say Happy Thanksgiving." That ought to be entertaining.
"Hap… Ha…"
Alex clicked the vibrator to its higher setting. "Say it, Liv, or I will go check on dinner right now."
Olivia's hands stretched wide and then tightened into fists. "Hap… Happy Thanksgiving, damnit!" She gasped harshly and clenched her teeth.
"One more. Say gobble and you can come."
Olivia wailed in frustration as Alex began to move her finger in and out, in and out. "Gob… Gobble." Even as she hissed the word, the familiar wave of intense, tingling warmth crashed over her and her mind went gloriously blank. Her jaw went slack and sweet, cool air flooded her straining lungs.
With one last curl of her finger, Alex switched the vibe off and withdrew her hand. She set the toy back onto her tray, wiping her hands on a towel. With happy tiredness, she flopped down onto the pillows, nearly touching her nose to her wife's. She took a moment to admire the sheen of sweat on Olivia's cheeks and the way her dark lashes fluttered subtly under closed eyes. "Ding," she said softly. "I think you're done."
Olivia's eyes flashed open and she chuckled dreamily. Her lips curved into a little smile. "Yeah," she slurred. "Could you…" She wiggled her fingers and toes, wordlessly asking to be un-trussed.
Alex started. "Oh, wait. I forgot one thing." She sprang up, snatching a large, all-but-forgotten sprig of parsley from the tray. "No Thanksgiving turkey can be presented without the proper garnish." Tucking the greenery securely behind Olivia's ear, she hefted her beloved camera and knelt to get a better view. Peering through the viewfinder, Alex smiled widely at the utter humiliation evident in Olivia's eyes. "Smile, Liv, and say 'Gobble'!"