Sweeter Still

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Summary: It's the Winter Thanksgiving Festival, and Elli is determined to help her husband acquire a taste for candy.Unashamed cutesy!lemon fluff of the Doctor/Elli variety.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters appearing or mentioned in this story.

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It had been a long day.

Despite his greatest attempts to keep his mind firmly on his work, concentration had been elusive, and his attention had strayed continuously to a large, white box tied prettily with a length of shimmery blue ribbon.

A freshly-baked chocolate cake, from his wife of close to three seasons, for the Winter Thanksgiving festival. To this insidious baked good had his mind been wandering periodically throughout morning and the entire afternoon thus far.

Which would have made sense, if he had been a raging chocaholic, willing to sell off vital organs for a really good square of the expensive, high-quality gourmet stuff, and willing to shave his head for the less expensive stuff.

But that was just the hell of it; he wasn't. Not by any stretch. It was a bit too obvious, a doctor who loathed junk food as nearly a personal insult, but from his earliest memories, he could not recall feeling anything more than revulsion at the sight of a plate of fries so greasy they turned napkins clear with a single touch, and popcorn dripping with butter.

Everyone had their childhood fears; likewise, he had his.

Cake was a little bit better, because at least it wasn't as loaded with salt and grease. And anyway, Elli liked baking, and there was something about watching her bustle about their little kitchenette, humming cheerfully away, that he liked. Particularly when he could manage to convince her to wear the little frilly white apron she always wore, but without the prim, shapeless, long blue dress underneath it.

The point was, there was no chocolate addiction to explain away the nearly magnetic power of the large, chocolatey package perched on the shelf behind his desk.

That was explained, instead, by her insistence that he should wait until they were alone together that evening to open it. When considering that she usually spent most of his birthday nearly vibrating with excitement until it was finally time for him to open his presents, this was enough out of the ordinary that his considerable curiosity was piqued.

What exactly had she meant by I think you should save it for later and you really, really shouldn't open that when there's someone around, anyway? Not to mention the near-panic she had gone into when she had caught him about to open the lid to show her handiwork to an admiring and envious Rick, who had Karen's baking to look forward to. It was, he had laughed, the thought that counted, although that heart-warming sentiment, coupled with the heart-warming sensation of making his lovely and talented-in-ways-that-did-not-involve-cooking wife happy, would do nothing to relieve poor Rick's inevitable late-night pangs of indigestion.

The doctor had slipped him a few extra-strength antacids on his way out, before going immediately back to wondering in near-frustration exactly what Elli was being so mysterious about with this silly cake.

Nevertheless, there was still a bit of work to be done, and this lack of focus was absolutely ridiculous. There might be only a few minutes left until five, but he would spend them working, and not letting his mind conjure up all the interesting possibilities on how exactly Elli could make a chocolate cake unsuitable for the general public.

It was just a cake. Mystery notwithstanding. He would find out sooner or later.

At this juncture, a familiar smiling face appeared around the side of the curtain and called a cheerful greeting.

Tim put down his pen and smiled in genuine welcome.

"Hello, Carter. What can I help you with? You're feeling alright, I hope?"

"I'm just fine," the older man replied. "I've just run out of cold syrup, and these sniffles don't seem to want to be shaken."

"Not a problem. Just a moment."

He rose from his desk and sifted through the shelves until he found a small bottle of something red and syrupy.

"Last bottle," he announced. "I'll have to remind Elli to order some more, if this is going around."

"Tim," Carter said, hiding a grin behind a solemn expression. "Why do I catch a whiff of chocolate coming from your shelves?"

He glanced over his shoulder, and as his eyes lit on the box with its shimmery bow, he made a noise of understanding.

"Oh; it's for Winter Thanksgiving. Chocolate cake, I think."

"Ah, now, isn't that sweet. As I recall, Elli makes an awfully good chocolate cake, doesn't she? The one you brought over to go with the wine a few weeks ago was delicious. I saved the last piece as long as I could."

The younger man bit back a laugh.

"Carter. Would you like a piece of cake? I don't think I'm supposed to open it yet, but I'm sure it's alright if it's for you."

"How nice of you to offer," Carter beamed. "I'll gladly take a piece."

Nodding, Tim set the box carefully on an empty corner of his desk, untied the bow, and lifted the lid…

…and shoved it quickly back down as Carter leaned over his desk for a peek. He sent his friend a sheepish smile.

"Ah, I'm sorry about this, but I don't think I can offer you a piece right now, after all. It…well, it's a little bit…I mean, she's using a different recipe, and I think she'd want me to try it first before I offer it to anyone else."

And besides which, he did not add aloud, very aware of the embarrassed little giggle coming from the other side of the curtain, she's covered the entire thing in candy hearts with…highly suggestive phrases, and I'd rather that the local pastor didn't leave with additional information about our personal life.

"Why don't you come for dinner next Friday? To make up for it," he added, wondering exactly how difficult it would be to make a reasonably good chocolate cake.

Not to mention, exactly what sort of bribe it would take to convince Elli to help him, if it should prove a lot harder than cookies.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Tim," Carter laughed, eyes nevertheless lighting up at the suggestion. "I don't want to put you two to any trouble when you're already so busy."

"It's no trouble," the dark-haired man assured his friend briskly. "You know we're always glad to have you over. Let me know when might work for you, I'll talk to Elli, and we'll decide on an evening."

"Well, if you're insisting," Carter grinned.

"Absolutely."

"Then I suppose I'll see you soon."

After another moment or two of easy conversation, Carter bid Tim a cheerful good-bye and left, calling a greeting to the little brunette behind the front counter on his way out.

The front door clicked shut behind him, and seconds later, a glossy brown head appeared at the edge of the curtain.

"You peeked at your cake!"

Tim looked up, then set his pen down again and leaned back in his chair, expression and posture instinctively becoming gently welcoming.

"And it's a good thing. I almost let Carter serve himself."

Elli blushed brightly, and hid a sheepish smile behind her hand.

"I'm glad you noticed in time."

"So am I; Carter's a close friend, but not that close."

"I assume we're having him over for dinner within the next few days," she said once a sudden and unexpected wave of laughter – accompanied by an appreciative grin at the mental images – had subsided at the thought of her husband and the town pastor being that close.

"Ah…yes," he confirmed sheepishly. "And could you…"

"Make a chocolate cake for dessert?" she finished placidly, hopping up to sit at the edge of his desk. "Of course. But I might leave off the candy hearts."

"What are those all about, anyway?" he asked, looking up at her as his fingers moved in absent circles over her knee.

She looked away, blush deepening.

"W-well, they seemed fun. I thought they might...um, give us some ideas."

He wondered vaguely if his eyebrows were actually shooting up into his hairline, or if they merely felt like it.

"Ideas," he repeated slowly.

"You know," she squeaked, hiding her face in her hands, and for half an absurd moment, he was certain that he saw a bright red glow emanating from the cracks between her fingers. "We pick off the ones we like and…use them for suggestions."

"Mmm. I think I'm warming to this cake," he confided with a slightly embarrassed cough, taking her hands and pulling her gently off the desk, before urging her down into his lap. He smiled against the back of her hair. "Would you like to start?"

She twisted about slightly to face him.

"It's your cake," she reminded him mildly. "Maybe you should start."

"Where did you find those candies, anyway?" he asked as she leaned forward to pull the cake box closer. "I didn't know Jeff sold anything like that."

"He doesn't!" she exclaimed, scandalized, somewhere between kinks of laughter. "I asked Zack to order them in for me. Did you know he charges a 200-gold confidentiality fee?"

"Outrageous," Tim agreed absently, peeking around her and into the box. "I think I've found one I like."

"Let's see!" she said delightedly, bouncing up and down.

Resisting the unexpected urge to suggest that she do that later when there were no more clothes in the way, he carefully picked one of the sugary little hearts off of the cake and held it up in front of her.

Let's go to bed.

She laughed softly as he slipped the candy into her mouth, and again, mischievously, as she nipped lightly at his fingertips and his sharp exhalation brushed against her hair.

"Shall we?" he asked, lips at the back of her ear.

"I think we should stay down here," she replied thoughtfully, catching his hand as it ran lightly over her waist and bringing it to her cheek.

He tsked gently into the side of her neck, and she bit back a gasp as his hand meandered down to cup her breast through layers of fabric.

"That's not very responsible, is it?" he asked, voice low and exactly the way that drove all coherent thought from her mind, twisting it into images that could leave her glassy-eyed and breathless in the middle of a workday.

"I suppose not," she agreed, expression grave but eyes dancing. "But," she continued impishly, wriggling back against him and giggling in silent delight at the sensation of something hard and insistent pressing into her backside, "you don't seem to mind all that much."

Her teasing evaporated into a startled shriek as he stood suddenly, effectively upending her and then catching her by the arm as she stumbled.

"Sit," he ordered, pulling her around to face him and then pushing her gently back into his desk.

Breathing notably shorter, cheeks flushed, she complied, staring up at him expectantly.

"Now," he continued, holding the cake box in front of her and smiling reassuringly, "pick a heart."

After a long moment of consideration, she carefully pried one of the candies from its nest of gooey chocolate icing, and held it up for him to read, eyes wide and solemn.

Make me beg.

She drew in a quick breath and released it on a delighted purr as he pulled her hand closer, tongue darting out to take the sugary little fragment and swirl tantalizingly over her fingertips. He moved closer, nudging her legs apart with one thigh, and sought the hem of her skirt with one hand while the other slid back into her hair. When his fingers, slim and cool, found the soft skin of her inner thigh, she gave a startled squeak, and he laughed softly against her cheek. She moaned breathily as his hand slid higher, fingers brushing softly over the plain white cotton rapidly growing embarrassingly damp.

With a quick movement, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, and she stared up at him, wide-eyed, deeply flushed, and breathless, as he stroked through her wetness and brushed very gently against the most exquisitely sensitive part of her.

She clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle a cry, and, after catching her wrist and moving it away, he braced himself against the surface of the desk and leaned closer and captured her lips in a heated kiss. His strokes grew quicker and firmer, and she wriggled against his hand, begging silently for release.

But silently didn't count, he decided with a smile that bordered on wicked as she squeezed her eyes shut and her soft, breathy little gasps brushed gently against his cheek. When he felt her begin to clench around his fingers, felt her hands tighten at his arms, he withdrew, fingertips resting at her outer folds.

"Well?" he said, looking quizzically down at the little brunette in his arms, eyes lingering on the dark, glittering need in hers and on the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Did you want me to keep going?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, half-annoyed and half-frantic as he brushed through coarse hair to trace lightly along soft, downy skin.

He leaned closer and murmured, lips at her ear and tongue flicking gently against the cartilage,

"I think you should ask nicely."

With a blistering glare that only made him laugh again, she hopped off his desk and caught his hand, tugging impatiently.

"Let's go upstairs instead."

"Are you going to ask nicely?"

She turned, eyes wide and pleading, dropping his hand and clasping hers behind her back.

"Please take me upstairs?" she asked, her voice sweetly childlike, hands tucked behind her back, head bowed shyly, eyes darting up to meet his and then dropping again as her cheeks flooded with pink. Entirely innocent, and yet something about the small pink tongue flicking out to catch a light dusting of sugar at her lower lip intensified the sensation that if he didn't do just that, and soon, he might happily follow her earlier suggestion to risk giving some unexpected visitor far more of an eyeful than they wanted.

"Alright," he agreed noncommittally, trying to be somewhat subtle about hurrying toward the stairs. He glanced back at the box on his desk. "But let's leave the cake here."

No reply.

"Uh, Elli?"

It was to be a few confused seconds of peering around the main room of the clinic for his notably absent wife before Tim would hear the footsteps from the floor above and realize that his subtlety was completely unnecessary.

With that, he allowed himself a smile wide enough to almost be classified as a grin, strode quickly toward the stairs, and bolted up them three at a time.

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"I don't think I've ever seen someone take a flight of stairs that fast."

He looked briefly over his shoulder at the source of this greeting, then the bedroom door softly behind him and started toward the bed and the half-naked girl kneeling in the middle of it.

"I was inspired," he said, eyes fixed appreciatively on the slight curves beneath the flimsy white fabric of her shift, and the smooth, creamy, delicately flushed skin of arms and neck and shoulders. "Although," he continued, glancing at her clothes folded neatly in the chair near the window, "it looks like I was still too late to help."

"So, um, do you want to keep using the candy hearts, or did you just want to…"

She let the question trail off into painful blushes, and looked quickly away. He smiled fondly as he noticed the little glass dish on the side table.

"Is it my turn, or yours?"

"It's your turn," she replied, bouncing eagerly over the bed to fetch the candy dish, before scrambling toward him and holding out her prize triumphantly.

"Huh. Interesting," he noted, holding back a laugh as he read the bit of candy.

She reached past him to put the dish back on the side table, then peeked over his shoulder.

"Let's see!"

Her cheeks went from merely blushing to phosphorescent.

Tie me up.

"Um. Maybe you should pick another one," she choked as the air inside the room seemed to grow uncomfortably hot in proportion to the number of images crowding into her head of the notoriously unflappable dark-haired man tied and at her mercy.

"Or maybe we should try this one," he shrugged, carefully casual as he felt a slight shiver run through her and the idea of the sweet, demure little brunette acting on those flashes of endearing bossiness he occasionally caught in her, and taking very aggressive control, became startlingly appealing.

She buried her face in her hands for a long moment. Finally…

"Is that safe?" she asked, peeking at him through her fingers.

"I don't see why not. We'll just make sure that we have something to cut through the…ah…ties if we need it."

After a long moment, she nodded hesitantly.

"Alright, we'll try it. But first," she added much more enthusiastically, expression decidedly similar to that of a small child on her birthday, fingers working nimbly at the buttons of his shirt, "let's get you out of some of these clothes."

Once his shirt had been cast aside – or rather, folded neatly and placed carefully in the chair atop the little pile of her clothes – he found himself pinned flat against the mattress by a warm, affectionate something, short silky sweetly-scented brown hair spilling over his shoulder

"Just wait there," she ordered softly, lips brushing his, before climbing off of him and then off of the bed.

He raised his head just a little, and stifled a laugh as she turned and started back toward the bed, winding around those slim, capable little hands a length of bright yellow material that served as the pert little bow she wore at her collar.

"You're going to tie me up with that?"

She pouted briefly.

"Well, unless I steal your belt and use that."

Almost the second she had said it, an electric shock seemed to flash through her, and the next moment, he bit back a groan as she worked enthusiastically at his belt. Her hand brushed lightly over the rather notable source of his distraction, and she giggled as his hips shifted up, just a bit, into her touch.

"Be patient, sweetie," she crooned, smiling impishly up at him before dropping a kiss at his fly, nuzzling lightly, and then crawling up over him until she was sitting back against his waist.

"Take your time," he said pleasantly as she wrapped the belt loosely around his wrists before pulling them up over his head and slipping the end of the narrow strap of leather through one rung of the headboard and knotting it carefully.

As she leaned over him, her breast brushed warmly against his cheek, and he turned his head to nip lightly at the rosy bead of flesh pebbled to hardness and apparent through thin white cotton. She gasped softly, thighs instinctively tightening around his hips.

"Watch it," she threatened playfully, "or I'll blindfold you, too."

"I think you're really liking this."

"Mmmhmm," she purred, leaning down and placing a row of slow, hot kisses down his chest, tongue darting out to leave gleaming trails over his leanly muscled form.

He let out a long breath, gritting his teeth against the urge to test exactly how tightly she had bound him, and if he might be able to pull free and repay some of her teasing. Whether she would fight him to regain control. Until he caught a soft, blissful sigh from her at the faintly salt taste and the warmth of his skin under her lips.

If her desperate squirming against him, those breathy moans, and that insistent glitter in her eyes downstairs moments ago were any indication, she wouldn't have the patience to tease much longer, anyway.

Apparently, though, she had the patience to tease a little more, he thought hazily as she worked at the button on his pants and slowly undid the zip, sending tiny jolts of sensation through him as each of the teeth slipped free of the zipper.

He muffled a noise somewhere between a gasp and a groan as her hand slid beneath the waistband of his boxers to wrap around his length. After making short work of the rest of his clothes, she leaned forward, warm breath doing distinctly dangerous things to his heart rate, and placed a light kiss at the tip; he completely failed to muffle a cry at what came next – that warm, wet little mouth of hers sliding down over him by agonizingly slow millimetres, her tongue moving in lazy circles.

His breathing grew slightly ragged as she increased her pace and pressure, and he was fairly certain with the – admittedly small – part of his mind able to form a coherent thought, that she had never been this…enthusiastic about doing this before. Deciding upon a temporary truce with the concept of sugary candy, he felt his hands tighten into fists in their makeshift bonds, entire body tensing in an effort to hold it together a little longer.

As the belt wrapped around his wrists loosened under his involuntary tug when she began to lick delicately at the tip again, a wicked thought flitted through the aforementioned tiny corner of his mind not busily making noises.

"Elli," he finally managed. "Come here, alright?"

She hesitated for a moment, and then crawled up over him again until she was resting at his shoulder.

"Why did you stop me? I didn't get to finish!" she lamented.

"It's okay. I'd rather finish this a different way."

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "Just let me untie you, and—"

The rest of her sentence melted off into a startled shriek as she found herself flipped unceremoniously and pinned between the man laughing, gently and kindly, down at her, and the mattress. She stared up at him, startled, winded, and expectant, and her back arched and her hands slid back into his hair as he leaned closer to pepper a trail of feather-light kisses along her neck and shoulder. He pulled away, and she made a noise of protest, hands at the back of his neck trying to tug him back to her.

"Shh, darling," he murmured, pushing up the hem of her nightgown and nipping lightly at skin as it was revealed.

Eyes squeezing tightly shut, she gave a soft moan as his lips brushed over her waist, tongue tracing along her hipbone and up over her ribcage to run lightly over the soft, sensitive underside of her breast. He lifted off of her slightly to toss the light cotton shift to the floor, and then returned his attentions to drawing those breathy, pleading little sounds from her, one hand sliding behind her back to lift her closer as her nipple tightened beneath his tongue and he drew the dark rosy bud into his mouth, nibbling gently.

She made a low noise of delight, legs damp with sweat and clasping tightly around his waist, and he moved swiftly to kiss her. Hands tangling in her hair as her lips parted willingly beneath the pressure of his, he moved slightly against her and felt her moan hum against his mouth as her slickness enveloped him.

Strange, how this girl seemed to be able to induce such a loss of control in him by doing nothing more than losing control, herself.

As she squirmed and arched and keened beneath him, his movements against her became faster and less controlled; and when he felt her shudder hotly around him, her spasms pushing him over the edge soon after, the world not directly related to soft, slender arms wrapped around his neck or soft, softly perfumed hair spilling onto the pillow or warm, damp cries uttered against his shoulder by the girl in the arms, somehow ceased to matter all that much.

After a long moment, he moved carefully off of her, and pulled her against his shoulder. Her small smile, languorous and deep red from his kisses, warm brown eyes echoing desire well sated, sent a slight stirring of arousal through him, and he trailed one hand lightly down her back to cup her bottom. Her smile widened.

"I suppose this means you don't want to go to sleep yet."

He laughed softly as he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.

"We still have a lot more of those candy hearts to get through, don't we?"

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End Notes: Written because I am entirely convinced that Elli has a very naughty mind beneath that adorably sweet, innocent demeanour of hers. And because I am equally convinced that Tim does not mind at all, but indulges her quite happily. XD