Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or anything remotely attached to this show, only the basis of this story.

CHAPTER FIVE
THE CLARIFICATION

Tuesday night rolls around sooner than she expects, and her anxiety for the following morning are probably through the ceiling.

April had spent her day cooking, perfecting her meal-making skills.

Her mother had always told that when she'd be married, she would need to know how to bake, and use a stove like a second brain, and satisfy her husband's craving.

Granted, this probably kind of marriage her mother had had in mind for her when she said it, but still. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

And while the young redhead was turning into something of an advocate for women's right and equality in the city, she still firmly believed that wives need to know cuisine and their way around a kitchen.

But this didn't mean she wouldn't still expect her husband to whip her up a bowl of spaghetti when he needed to. It's a two-way street.

"You like nervous again."

"Well, I am. That's probably why I look it."

April sighs with a loud inhale-exhale of breath. She stops stirring the concoction in front of her and grabs the wooden spoon handle in her fist, glancing up at the man with tired eyes.

"I haven't seen my sisters in like two years. We kind of had a falling out."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jackson slips his suit jacket from his shoulders and neatly folds it over before placing it over the back of one of the bar stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. "I would have told Amelia to cancel."

She shrugs softly, flicks her wrist, stretches out a cramp, before getting back to work, "I didn't think I could." April mumbles quietly and his hands clasp in front of him, eyes widening as he leans closer.

"Why?" The man perks a brow, watches her with cautious eyes as she dots around the kitchen, evenly pouring out what looks like cake batter into muffin trays. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, April." He frowns, green eyes darkening as she dabs a finger into the mixture bringing it up to her lips and licking it off as she turns to face him. "You can tell me anything. Okay?"

"Because you're my husband now?" She keeps her finger pressed against her bottom lip, a small grin on her face as she shifts from one foot to the other, keeps her gaze focused on his. "This is still weird, you know."

She spins back around to place the filled muffin tray in the heated oven when he rounds the island, coming over to her side of the kitchen.

"I know." He clears his throat, watches as she bends, snaps back up and wipes her hands down her apron. "Where did you find that thing?"

"I bought it." She tilts her head to the side and rests her hands on her hips. Small smile on her lips, she frowns, "Well, you did. But you told me to buy whatever I needed and if I'm…going to be your wife, then…I need an apron."

"That's very…suburban housewife of you?" Jackson smirks, copying her move and dropping his hands to his hips, fingers digging into his belt.

April shrugs again, "I can be many things."

It's strange to think that she still barely knows him and yet she acts like she's known him for years, like he's been her other half for months. They're at ease, and it makes their situation even more confusing to her.

"You just don't know me yet."

"Well, I would like to get the chance to." He nods as he speaks, walking closer and moving his hand past her waist to cage her in against the kitchen counter.

She leans her head back slightly and chews at the tip of her tongue when he takes her in, casting his eyes up and down her body.

"Why don't you teach me something about politics first and then I'll let you in on a little secret?"

"Fair trade." He looks back up at her face then, and he shifts closer, making her straighten her back and tilt her neck to drop under his gaze. "What do you want to know?"

She thinks about her question for a moment before deciding that the way he was eyeing her a second ago was killing her curiosity. "Why do men have a thing for a woman in an apron?"

"Submission. Sexism." He swallows, confirms with a fast breath, "The great suburban housewife myth. We, the men, work. We make the money. We drink at noon. We come home late. You feed the kids and you clean the house and, by the time we get home, you've cooked us dinner. You smile, take our coats, look all nice and pretty in that apron. You drink wine while we eat because you've already had yours, you ate when the kids did, but we have dessert together."

April feels her throat dry as he talks, and she pulls a fistful of hair to one side of her neck to distract her flushing chest. This is rude and while he doesn't mean it, only explaining what she asked, she finds it hot. Which is odd. And wrong.

She watches through fluttering lashes as he towers above her, back erupting in a flurry of delightful shivers when he moves his right hand to her waist.

"What do we have for dessert?"

"Each other." His eyes darken to a dangerous emerald green again and she holds back a gasp at his face, smirk and unmoving gaze and the whole luxe. Jackson licks his lips tightly, shifts his left to her hip. "You drink a little red wine and then clear the table while I have my scotch. And while you're washing the dishes, I come up behind you."

"You do?" She feels her lips still, tongue pressed between her teeth, and her nostrils flare as he nods, and she stares up at him as though she's lost in a trance.

"And you pause, stand up straight. And when you go to turn around, I stop you, hold you in place. I run my hands down your waist."

April feels her elbows fold as she leans back, lower body pressing up into him as he continues.

"Then I slide my arms around your waist and pull that apron from your body. You moan, unable to stop yourself, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from screaming when my hand slips below your panties." He smirks, pressing his forehead to hers and burning her mouth with a trace of his breath.

"Then what?" She whispers her need to know more, feeling her knees begin to quiver when he slips his hands from her waist to her backside, grasping the material of her dress in his palm.

Jackson keeps his eyes focused solely on hers, blinking only once or twice to drop his gaze onto her pink lips.

"I carry you to bed. And we get undressed. And you lie naked on your back."

"Sounds nice." She forces the words, voice groggy at the thought and her face a blushing pink shade of desire.

"You spread your legs when I tell you to, and you're dripping wet."

She's not sure what possesses her to want him to continue, to finish his very vivid description. But it's naughty, and she likes it, and his voice is doing very bad things to her insides.

"And then?" April urges him to go on, licking her lips and smoothing her hands up his shirt-clad chest to his neck. She feels her legs unconsciously part against her will, though she guesses her body is speaking for her at this point.

Her mind would surely tell her that this was wrong, sinful of her. She doesn't know him, logically, but legally this man is her husband because she was naive enough to marry him after five minutes.

"I eat my dessert."

Her hazel eyes drift shut when he lowers his face to her neck, running his lips down to her collarbone, lightly peppering butterfly kisses against her pale skin. Jackson pushes the strap of her dress away and his hands grip the edge of her apron, tugging on the ties loosely.

"Your pussy is soaked by the time I'm finished. And you moan, bite your tongue, scar the back of my head with your nails because you don't want me to stop."

"I do?" She inhales a sharp breath, brows knitting when he runs a hand up her arm and around her neck, pulling on the halter-neck ties over her floral apron. It drops onto the floor and her lips part voluntarily, waiting for him to kiss her.

"And then I move back up your naked, panting, eager body and kiss you. You like it because you can taste yourself on my tongue and you sob because you want more. But I still need to fuck you."

"Okay."

"I think your muffins are done."

"I-" She darts her tongue out to dampen her lips, completely lost in his everything until she snaps back to her senses. "What?"

"Your muffins." Jackson points a finger down at the oven, smug grin on his lips as he moves away from her, dusting his hands down his pants and raising both brows suggestively. "Finished?"

"You can't just stop!" She completely ignores his remark about her baking and instead just frowns across at him.

Her husband shrugs, "I'd continue but you're a virgin and I don't wanna spoil it for you. You seem a little…flushed?"

"How did you know that?"

"That you're flushed?"

"That I'm a virgin."

"You don't hide it from me very well." As though it's obvious, something everyone can see. "Besides, when I asked about the guys you'd been with, you laughed. That was kind of the dead giveaway." He chuckles.

April pouts falsely, "I've done stuff."

"What stuff? Tell me. I need to know anyway."

"Just…stuff?"

"Third base? Oral? Orgasm?" He half smiles in admiration at her innocent face, but then he takes a step closer and touches her shoulders, smoothing his hands up and down her bare hands slowly.

"You might need to educate me on those, too."

"I think you need to tell me your little secret first? That was our deal for my story." She rolls her eyes at his request, "Have you ever even touched a man?"

She pauses, contemplates whether to lie about her revelation.

"No."

"Never?"

"Over the pants?"

"Doesn't count." He sighs, shifts his eyes back and forth between her own. "Has anybody ever made you come?"

"No."

The old her would tap herself on the hand for talking like this, for marrying someone so inquisitive, so open about sex and discussing stuff a man and woman do in their bedroom.

The new her, however, would probably prefer it if he taped her on the ass.

"Do you want me to?"

"If I did, would you?" He is her husband, after all. It wouldn't be wrong.

"Tell me a secret first."

Something light? Easy?

"I had a nose job."

"Why?"

"It broke?" She responds sarcastically, the answer being an obvious one to her. "Why else would I get a nose job?"

"I don't know." He seems to inspect her nose then, raising both hands to cup the sides of her face and turning her face from side to side. "It's a fine job." He smirks and she swats his chest, annoyed by his joke.

"It's not funny."

He holds in his grin then, clasping his hands together behind his back and taking in her reaction carefully. "I thought you were gonna tell me you kill someone or something. Hell, I kinda thought if anything it was your breasts that were worked on."

"Why? What's wrong with my breasts?" She glances down at her chest then, noticing him do the same.

"Nothing, sorry." He holds up both hands defensively, "They're quite perfect actually. That's why I thought-"

"You like my breasts?"

It's odd flattery, but she goes looking for it and she likes the compliment. No man has ever complimented her on her assets before.

"Do you need me to prove it?"

"Will this be a lesson?"

He doesn't reply to her question, only backs away and slips his hands into his front pockets. "Take your dress off."

"What?" Her face blankens and she stills, knuckles turning white from gripping the counter edge.

"Take your clothes off."

"Here?"

"It's my- our kitchen, nobody's going to walk in." He reasons, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

April stops him by lifting her hands to the top of her dress, popping open the top buttons at the front. She keeps an uneven breathing pattern, feeling his hot eyes burning holes through her skull.

When the buttons separate the flaps of her dress, she lets it hang open over her chest, bra exposed and dress pooled at her sides. "All the way off?"

"On the floor." The darker skinned man confirms, taking a hesitant step forward as she drops it onto the kitchen ground. "You sure about this?"

"Give me attention." She gulps, shakes her head with a slight bashful grin. Her head rolls back when he lowers his mouth to her collarbone again, hands gripping her sides and pulling the swell of her body into his, fingertips pressurising into the low of her back.

April caves, aches, inches forward into him, her hands moving around her back to unclasp her bra. She pulls the item away cautiously, avoiding his intense stare as she abandons her white lace bra alongside her dress.

"That feels good." She breathes out, running her hand over his short curls before gripping the base of his skull in her right hand when he kisses lower, tongue creeping between the valley of her breasts.

Her breathing eradicates when he slides his lips over her left breast, teeth grazing her pebbled flesh and tongue curling patterns around her nipple.

She watches as he begins to pull his tie loose from around his neck, mouth never leaving her desirable cleavage. She takes over, draws the tie from around his shirt and wraps it up in her fist, hands going back to clawing at his shoulders when he sucks, nips at, teases her breasts, breath heavy and toxic against her own oxygen.

"Tell me a secret." He mumbles against her skin as he kisses all over her chest, shifting onto her right breast and copying the same display, immediately cupping her breasts in his palms and finding her nipple between his teeth, facial scruff tickling her skin and earning a purr in reply.

"I want to be made love to."

"It smells of burnt muffins in here- Oh, God!"

The shriek across the room pulls April out of her daze, and her eyes flicker open then, instinctively pulling Jackson up flush against her to cover her naked chest.

"Duckie!"

"What-?!" The half naked redhead almost feels her eyes bulge out of her head at the sight of her sisters by the hallway entrance, shocked looks on their faces.

Jackson stands up against her, tight and enclosed and he nods once, "Are those your sisters?"

"Yes." She grits her teeth, hides her face in the crook of his neck to shield herself.

"Weren't they arriving tomorrow?"

"Duckie, I'm not sure what this is but you need to explain yourself!"

"Stop calling me Duckie!" She screeches over her husband's shoulder with angry eyes. Tucking her head safely into position, she darts her gaze up at him, "Can I have your shirt please?"

"Yeah." Jackson doesn't take a second to think about it, just quickly unbuttons his white shirt before handing it to her, watching as she manoeuvres into the long sleeves and pulls it down her thighs.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, I'll just-" He waves a finger around, clearing his throat. Obviously he's a little thrown off by it all just as much as she is. "I'll go get dressed."

When he walks away, April pushes her hair behind her ears as she waits for the questionnaire that's sure to ensue.

Her three wicked sisters stop on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, hands tapping and eyes building out of their heads.

"Is that your husband?"

"Does daddy know you let him do that to you in the kitchen?"

"Duckie got herself a Donald!"

"Is that your husband though?!"

"He is fine."

"No wonder you let him grope you like that. I would too."

"Bet you're glad you stayed a virgin for him, right?"

"Is he, you know, engorged? I hear men of colour are bigger than most guys?"

"Kimmie!"

"Stop talking!"

"Were you baking, by the way? Or was that just the smell of your own burning muffin?"

Damn it.

Enjoy, and review nicely :)

I imagine some lovely guest reviewers will have some harsh words to say about this because it doesn't feature rape, or unicorns or rainbows, or women portrayed as submissive creatures to their men, and well, it's by me. This piece of work has feminist undertones, so if you'd rather spike your interest with a story about abuse against women and violent men, then look elsewhere. Excuse me for actually being able to write something good, of substance, in-character. Feel free to read and review something else if you already know you don't like me. Leaving anonymous hate is laughable. Have fun.