The oleander is a beautiful flower that represents love, destiny, and understanding. However, when consumed, this flower is incredibly toxic; even deadly.
Dahlia Davies is a college drop-out, struggling to run her father's flower shop. The bills ar...
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CW:Dom!Bucky, dirty talk, degradation kink, bondage (with rope), knife play, face slapping, hair pulling, choking, gagging, biting, bruising, edging, dom/sub dynamics, some fluff. The smut alone is 4.5k words. When I say I'll make it up to you, I always mean it.
To feel your weight in arms I'd never use It's the God that heroin prays to - Hozier, "To Be Alone With You"
Dahlia sits at the kitchen island while James rolls the pasta dough into a long snake-like tube and begins to cut it into small pieces with something that looks like it would be used to scrape ice off of a car windshield. It's weirdly interesting to watch him to do this. She helped him peel the potatoes for the gnocchi, but after that, he told her to just sit around and look pretty and provide him with moral support while he cooked. James likes to take charge in every aspect of his life. Dahlia is fine with that.
She watches him gently cut into the dough. She's never made pasta from scratch before, and never really watched anyone make it either. Dahlia just buys the shit in the bag, dumps it into boiling water, and throws it against the wall to see if it's cooked. If it sticks, it's ready to eat. Her dad taught her that. Except it doesn't work for macaroni noodles. Those just bounce off of the wall and then Basil tries to eat them while Wanda tries to shoo him away.
She sips her wine as she watches James, his face intense and focused. He's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and she can see the muscles in his forearms. His hands are dusted with flour to keep the dough from sticking to his fingers. Every so often, he reaches over to grab his glass of wine and take a sip. He always winks at her and she always blushes.
"I've never made homemade pasta before," she says softly as he works.
"No?"
She shakes her head.
"I don't think I've ever eaten it, either."
"Really?" James asks. "It's incredible."
"What else did you make that out of?"
"Potatoes, flour, salt, and eggs."
"That's it?"
She has to admit, she wasn't really paying attention when he was making the dough. She was too focused on how gorgeous he looked while he was cooking.
He grins, his bright blue eyes twinkling softly.
"That's it."
"I thought pasta dough was more complicated than that."
"Not really." He crouches down and opens a cupboard, pulling out a large wooden paddle. Dahlia can't help the laugh that spills from her lips. She's a little tipsy. She feels good after actually sitting down to play the piano. Freer, even. James raises a brow. "What's funny?"
