#i am somehow both so old and wanna hang out with paper records and also like

[heresathreebee]

Brackish And Briny Waters (three)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Spend the weekend painting the house with your husband. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 17+ | 1.6k words | Painting a house together, aka domestic stuff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, vague mention of rats.

AN: part 4 is gonna get angsty I just finished it

Anything involving greens was a heavy battle between you two, as Ralph seemed to have some kind of vendetta against them. The more blue you got, the less you fought and you eventually settled on a cool tone to use for the laundry room with a compromise to paint floral accents in a forest green tone along the edges of the back wall. You did find an exact replica of one of the original wallpapers in your second bedroom which you wanted to move to the living room. 

Colors selected and purchased, you went home starving and managed to scrape together some left overs with a side of rice to fuel you to start on the real work. You also bought brown paper to cover the solar room window holes until you can finish that room as its own project. 

Ralph rolls up his sleeves and puts on his bleach stained lounge pants to help. You lay down tarp and use up 3 rolls of tape to cover the kitchen and the dining room. Every window and door is wide open as you set your record player to play some 'whistle while you work' type of albums. And whistle he does that husband of yours, enjoying your company and shaking his hips dramatically to make you laugh. You two haven't had this much fun in so long it feels like. 

The summer citrus color you chose for the kitchen was really working for you. Ralph intended to put the wallpaper up in the other room to get 'double the work done' but still you find him working the same wall just to be close to you. You talk about missing that classic NYC pizza and dinner tomorrow and Ralph promises to ask his colleagues about any music shops in the area. 

You take a nap on the porch swing to get away from the paint fumes, an iced tea almost slipping from your hand. When dinner time comes, you cook while he details the removal of the old wallpaper from the dining room to work tomorrow. He's rambling about using a third coat on the living room paint and you don't think it's necessary but you know he'll agree with you come morning. 

"Come eat Ralph Vincent," you scold him for getting paint on the door frame but all is forgiven when he sweeps you into a hungry kiss. 

"I'd rather eat you right now." 

Ralph's flirtations are interrupted by his own ractious growling stomach and you laugh at him as you shove a plate into his hand. You eat together by the window in the living room. While it hasn't been painted yet, you have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and the fumes from the kitchen and dining room are still very strong. You hope it doesn't affect your sleep tonight (or hope it puts you down like a dose of melatonin). 

"Floyd's got a boat," Ralph tells you. "Says he takes it out on the water almost every day. Asked if I wanted to join him." 

"And are you?" You spin another forkful of angel hair spaghetti on your plate. 

Ralph slurps his like a child. "Am I what." 

"Are you going to join him on his boat?" You speak slowly and patronizingly. Ralph pinches your breast and almost makes you drop your plate. "No. I hate boats. I hate water. I don't want to be trapped for hours out there listening to him talk about paintings and philosophers, at least at work I can walk away." 

You chuckle. "I think Floyd sounds very interesting. What do you have against him?" 

"Nothing," he protests, "he talks too much. He's loquacious– that's what Justine calls him, and she's one to talk. If you must know, he's actually my favorite– he knows when to keep his nose out of my business." 

Dishes are made slightly more difficult with Ralph hanging off your shoulders. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, even finds a hickey from the morning that's started to fade and he remarks you. You dig your dripping fingers into his hair when he finds that spot on your neck and gives it some much needed attention. 

"Ralphie, baby, please," you whisper, "I could use your help with these." 

Dishes are done in record time and suddenly you're being whisked away to your bedroom (not that you were complaining). This room has the wallpaper that you had no intention to change aside from a fresh upgrade. Ralph takes your hand to spin you around and back you into your shared room all the way to the edge of the bed. Along the way he plants kisses from your hairline to your collarbone before he lets you fall atop the thick quilted bedspread. 

He gazes at you with a warm expression. The soft "my girl" he whisperes makes your heart swell. 

You expect him to pick up your legs and pull you by your knees to the outside of his hips (want him to even), but Ralph has other ideas it seems. It's not until his head is between your legs that you realize what he's up to (or rather down to). You gasp a lung full of air and grab him by the hair of his head. 

"Jesus," you sigh. 

Your husband's rumbling laughter causes your thighs to twitch. "Say my name, I'm the one doing all the work." 

"Yeah but you love– aha!" His beard brushes your inner thighs and leaves a delightful burning sensation in the deepest part of your soul. "Fuck…" 

You pull his hair harder and feel the soft locks stretch in your bloodless grasp. You can feel that immortal coil wind tighter and tighter inside you as Ralph devours you. You start chanting his name, the pitch of your voice beginning to crescendo the closer you get to that fire cracker ending. Ralph doubles his efforts, eager to have you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. 

He's more than making it up to you tonight. 

When you come, your body curls in on itself and your thighs lock around his head, effectively deafening him. You have no idea if he can hear the scream that rips from your body but you can't either as your eyes rolls back in ecstasy. 

You relax onto the bed and feel it dip with an additional weight to your side. You slide into Ralph's easy embrace, his dry hand coming up to hold you to him and just rest for a bit. 

"Fuck," you say huskily, "you're really good at that…" 

Ralph kisses you in answer, trying to deepen the connection but you have to twist away to catch your breath. Instead he plants lingering, sweet kisses on your neck, your cheek, your hair. His hand caresses your back in circles until you're nearly asleep from the motion. 

You flinch when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Baby… don't fall asleep." He sounds so sweet until his voice darkens and he says, "I'm not done with you yet." 

You lose track of time and all you can feel is Ralph Lamont. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat and his hips rock leisurely into yours. You don't know who grabbed who but your hands are tangled together and refuse to let go. Ralph's breath dusts over your neck, cool in contrast to the fire of his physical form pressed against you. You want to come again but you let him draw it out, let him love you tonight. 

"Ralph." You whisper in his ear, begging with no pressure to change pace. You're happy if he's happy and he is very content to keep thrusting into you to his peak and slow down, never stopping but always making you want more. Your man kisses you flush on the mouth and adjusts his position. His thrusts change. They grow from hypotonic and shallow to a little hard and more purposeful. You moan at the feeling, your legs locking around his hips to draw him deeper despite your exhaustion. 

Your orgasm washes over you nice and gentle, nothing like the force of the first time. You're conscious enough to lock your ankles around Ralph's hips, but it still doesn't prevent him from slipping his flushed and reddened cock out and finishing on your stomach as he always intended. You feel a strange tickle of disappointment as you come down from your high but push it to the back of your mind for later. 

Some way, somehow, Ralph still has enough strength to clean you both up and tuck you into bed. He curls around your body despite the near unbearable heat and falls fast asleep, his soft snores right behind your ear lulling you under the tide of sleep. 

DAY FOUR

"Morning." 

Your Saturday is awash of more painting and moving furniture with Ralph. He made coffee and eggs and brought it to you in bed, then dragged you down to look at the frayed wires on the clothes dryer machine. 

"Might be rodents," you muse. "I'll get some traps on Monday and find my soldering iron." 

"We'll get traps tonight," your husband countered, scratching his chin, "the sooner the better." 

You finish removing the old wallpaper in the living room and carefully put up the new one with little fuss. The kitchen still smells of paint but it's dry (it had better be, you left the windows open all night and it's freezing in here) so you put the kitchen utensils and appliances back and remove the protective tape and brown paper. Ralph is proud of the precision work done in the corners and edges, patting himself on the back and yours. 

"We did good babe," he said, "by this time next week, we'll have the whole house done!" 

You laugh at his optimism. There were still cobwebs to dust, cracks to spackle, floors to polish, windows to replace. This was the very reason he picked this place… 

To keep you busy. To keep your mind from wandering to those dark places that linger in your past. 

At least it was working.

Tagging people who might like to know: @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @fundamentally-lazy @mimiscappinisideblog do y'all wanna be here? If not lemme know please 😅 DM me

[kassandra-lorelei]

I would love a prompt of C.C. realising she is younger than Fran. And how our Niles reacts, of course :P

@missbabcocks1 Here we are, at last, my bestie! I hope this was everything you were expecting when you requested it!

But also, oh my God, I am so far behind on all these prompts! I’m so sorry everyone’s been waiting - work keeps me very busy! I will try to do more, more often, to get through them! I need to get back on track a bit, even though I work full time now. Besides, it will be good - who doesn’t love hearing about these two idiots and their adventures?

Niles had to say, there was something extremely pleasantabout C.C. having been told to go on maternity leave. In the days after thewhole extended clan had arrived in California, there had been so much work todo – particularly for both his wife and Mr. Sheffield at the studios – that itseemed as though neither one of them would get a break!

Fortunately, a small miracle had happened and Maxwell had,over the course of some months (as opposed to his usual years), noticed thatthe load was really too much for her to handle. Studio work, even forproducers, didn’t lend itself to anything apart from being on one’s feet allday when shooting and the rounder her belly grew, the more it was starting tobecome a concern whenever a live set inspection or meeting was called.

It was a relief for the butler when their employer hadfinally told her to simply rest at home for the remainder of her pregnancy. Notthat C.C. hadn’t put up a fight, of course. She seemed to have a constant worrythat things just wouldn’t get done if she wasn’t there to make sure of it, andfor the first long, few weeks, she hadn’t been able to help swinging wildly ona pendulum back and forth between “on edge and anxious” and “bored out of hermind”.

That was why Niles had done everything he could to keep heroccupied, which was what he found so pleasant about it, in truth. Having her athome meant that they got to spend more time together, just as they would’vedone had they still been at the mansion back in New York. They’d read books,watched movies, tossed playful remarks back and forth as he went about hischores – the works. He’d even bring lunch right to her lap if she was feelingtoo tired or uncomfortable to move.

As time moved forward and C.C. settled further into hermaternity leave, her worries seemed to settle as well. Not that they went awaycompletely, of course, but enough so that she could actually enjoy herself andnot think about working all of the time.

Not that she didn’t find some of that to do around themansion, as well. The office always had things that needed clearing, filing or reworkingand it wasn’t as though Maxwell would ever get around to it. So, C.C. had takenit upon herself to do a little bit of administration work, every once in awhile, whenever she felt the boredom creeping up on her again.

She had clearly felt the urge a little while after Niles hadbrought her lunch, because when he returned to the living room with his own sandwich(he’d cooked the bacon for this BLT to perfection, in his mind), her plate fromher meal was clean and she had retrieved another box.

She was sat going through the papers inside it, a greatCheshire Cat-like grin stretching across her gorgeous face.

He loved to see her looking so happy, even if it did alsointrigue him. What could she have found in that box that had made her sopleased? He could even hear her chuckling a little bit under her breath…!

Well, there wasn’t anything like having a little bit oftheir usual fun to ask her what was going on…

He sauntered over, allowing a grin to start to curl at thecorners of his mouth.

“You’re looking awfully chipper. Did Mr. Sheffield call tosay that he’s fired someone you hate?”

C.C. looked up and smiled at him brightly, “Better.”

“Oh,” he blinked in return, coming to stand over where shewas sat on the sofa, craning his neck a little to take a look at what she wasdoing. “Two people?”

C.C. half-rolled her eyes at him. He didn’t take itpersonally – he knew it was all part of the fun.

“No one’s been fired, Scrubbing Bubbles,” she told him. “Ijust happen to have stumbled upon an excellent piece of news.”

“Is that so?” Niles’ eyebrow raised and he leaned in towardsher, elbows resting on the back of the sofa. “Would you care to share thisexcellent piece of news with your now-very-curious husband?”

His wife pretended to think about it, before another verypleased grin began to spread itself on her lips.

She practically purred her answer, “I might, for a littlequid pro quo…”

That was an answer Niles always enjoyed hearing. He wasbasically finished for the day, not including dinner, which he could easily putoff for another couple of hours or so.

And he was sure he knew the perfect way to spend them.

“Well, you know I am always happy to scratch your back, ifyou scratch mine…”

His motion to lean down and plant a kiss on her lips wasinterrupted at the very last second, when C.C.’s hand darted out and she pickedup his sandwich off his plate, taking a bite out of it and putting the restback.

She chewed for a while, during which Niles could only try tostammer out a protest but fail, eventually just letting his jaw drop and hangthere for a moment until she was done and ready to speak.

She dusted her hands off as she picked up the paper she’dbeen reading, “Now, you wanted to know what I’ve been looking at.”

Niles frowned in slight annoyance at his plate, “Yes, and Icould’ve enjoyed one whole, complete sandwich to go along with it…”

C.C. rolled her eyes, trying to look unimpressed but notreally managing to conceal her amusement.

“I’ll make it up to you later,” she said in a voice that luckilypromised it without using those words, before going back to the paper. “Youwanna see what I’ve found here or not?”

After a moment, Niles sighed.

“Alright, you’ve got me. What is it?”

“There’s the yenta I know and love,” his wife grinned,gesturing proudly at all her hard work. “I’ve been refiling and reorganisingall the household legal documents. The Sheffields’ and ours.”

“Both sets?” Niles quirked an eyebrow, surprised. “Shouldn’twe leave the Sheffields’ files for them to sort out?”

C.C.’s grin dropped away from her face and she gave him ALook. They both knew exactly what it meant, too – he had just been so takenaback by it in the heat of the moment that the answer hadn’t really registeredto him.

The Look meant something along the lines of “Who are youkidding, Butler Boy? Since when have the Sheffields ever done anything that wecould do for them?” mixed in equal combinations with “Would you trust Maxwellor Fran Sheffield to do something like organise and keep legal documents?”.

He could only really nod in return, once the understandinghad settled in properly.

“Good point,” he said, turning his attention back to thepapers. “What did you find? I’m assuming, of course, that your good news comesfrom one of these pages.”

“You’d assume correctly, lover,” she lifted one single sheetof paper out of her lap so that he could see. “Check this out.”

Setting his sandwich down on the one clear patch on thecoffee table, Niles took and peered at the document.

His eyes then went back to his wife, “It’s a copy of MrsSheffield’s birth certificate.”

His immediate thought was to ask why she had been looking atthat particular piece of paper in the first place, but it was almostimmediately interrupted by the rest of his brain asking him who he thought hewas kidding. Fran’s birth certificate was a closer and more heavily guardedsecret than the contents of the Vatican archives; he would’ve looked withouthesitation, if he’d been the one doing the filing.

They both already knew that C.C. knew this, too. There wassomething especially warming in that – they knew each other, inside and out, andknew exactly when the other would be interested in something they’d found.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed pleasantly, as smug as a cat who’dgotten both the cream and the canary. “Notice anything about it?”

Niles studied the certificate carefully, looking for the onepiece of information that she could be talking about. There was one reasonnobody ever saw this paper, and it was the one thing they’d both truly wonderedabout their friend for as long as they’d known her.

Of course, he had the information that she was in the sameclass as Val at school, who had accidentally let slip one time how old she was,but there was something more concrete about seeing the proof firsthand. Rightthere in front of him, on the official piece of paper that recorded Fran’s birthday.Besides, what if Val also lied about her age (poorly, compared to MrsSheffield, but even so)? Or what if the hastily-used excuse that Val kept beingheld back turned out to be true (because, well, come on)?

It didn’t take long to find.

In the butler’s mind, he’d more than half imagined that herbirth date would look…off, compared to other people’s. That was, he’d thoughtthere would be a day and a month, but no year. His sense of logic had steppedin in the moments he’d thought that and told him not to be ridiculous – itwould be scribbled out with a pen, or redacted, like an important militaryrecord, or the dates and locations of stories that authors wanted to representas “real life” in Victorian literature.

But, much to his surprise, neither of those things weretrue. The date was there, in full.

And his eyes could only widen at the number printed on thatpage.

“No…!” he exclaimed in some disbelief, incredulous at havingthe proof positive there in his hands. “It can’t really be true! Surely…!”

“Oh, yes,” C.C. was on the verge of chuckling in puredelight, clasping her hands together in glee. “Our good, perpetuallytwenty-nine-year-old friend, is at the same time, somehow older than I am!”

As if to illustrate her point and celebrate at the sametime, she began to half-dance in her seat, shimmying her shoulders from side toside and wiggling her hips as much as her belly would allow.

Niles watched in amusement, his hand dropping away with thepaper still in it.

“You really are pleased with yourself for finding this,aren’t you?” he asked, mostly rhetorically because the answer was obvious toanybody who had working eyes.

His wife scoffed, still in the middle of her dance number, “Likeyou’re not happy to have finally fully solved the mystery! I’m surprised youdidn’t do this back when she first started at the-oof!”

Suddenly, she flinched, doubling over and clutching at herstomach, halting her in her seated tracks.

In an instant, the butler tossed the paper back into the pileand flew to her side, seating himself next to her as alarm bells immediatelywent off in his head, loud and ringing like the end of the world was on its way.In his state of dread and panic, an impending apocalyptic event would haveactually been preferable to what he imagined might have been happening.

What was going on? Was something the matter? Was it thebaby?!

“C.C., are you alright?!” he cried out, fear of the worststarting to grip at his heart.

Much to his relief, she took in a few deep breaths andrelaxed, letting her arms slip gently around her stomach.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine,” she said, raising an accusing eyebrowat her bump as a faintly entertained smirk made its way onto her lips. ��Yourlittle servant spawn must’ve felt my happiness and decided to aim a kick at mylower intestine!”

Niles felt the last of the fear be washed away by the toneof her voice and the look on her face as she rubbed at her belly. She was fine.The baby was fine. Everything was fine. He could calm himself back down.

He could get himself back on track. Besides, he had afeeling that it might distract her from the glee of finding out for definitethat she was younger than Fran, and they’d all be allowed to go on with theirdays.

He pulled her into an embrace, settling one of his hands ontop of her stomach and patting it lovingly.

“Getting creative at running rings around you, even from inthe womb,” he beamed proudly. “We have a little prodigy on our hands already.”

C.C.’s half-smirk blossomed into a full one, “And you’ve gotyourself a little clone.”

Niles slid his hand over her belly, taking her hand andentwining their fingers, “You say that as though it were a bad thing.”

She pretended to think about it in return, exaggerating alook of contemplation and using her free hand to tap at her chin.

“Essentially having two of you around the place? Now, why onEarth would I think that was a bad idea…?”

He slid as close as he possibly could in response, leaningin so that his nose was nearly brushing hers.

“You wouldn’t. You love me too much for that…”

C.C.’s slightly hitched breath was warm against his skin, “Maybe.”

Niles felt the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, “Alittle.”

His wife played at being stubborn, “Sorta.”

It was at this point that the butler knew he’d won the game,“Kinda.”

He felt his lips brush against hers, before C.C. pulled awayjust enough to give him a teasing look.

“If our kid turns out to be as big a sap as you…” she lookedlike she was trying to think of a good threat, but came up with nothing.Instead, she simply shook her head. “I really have no idea what I’ll do.”

“I imagine you’ll be forced to finally melt and renounceyour throne. Though I have no idea where they’ll find another Ice Queen at suchshort notice…” he closed the gap again and quickly pecked her lips. “Unless, ofcourse, you’ve already melted.”

She was back to smirking again in an instant, in a way thatmade him think she thought she’d caught him out on something.

“You’re not distracting me out of it.”

Niles’ brow furrowed, “Out of what?”

“Being happy for my little age victory over Nanny Fine,” shereplied, poking him lightly in the chest.

The butler felt his face fall. Damn, she really was good. It truly did go to show just howwell they knew what the other was thinking at any given moment…!

Well, all he could hope to try and do now was downplay thewhole situation enough that she might not keep that smirk of hers for weeks onend.

“I hadn’t intended to distract you from that – our littleone did the job for me quite well enough,” he eventually counterpointed. “Besides, whosaid anything about it having to be a competition?”

C.C. seemed slightly put out by his question.

“No one, but I don’t think it would kill anybody toacknowledge it.”

Niles bit back a frown. She did have a point; she wasyounger, and she had every right to be able to say so. Many years’ worth of“old” and “ancient” jokes could easily be deflected away without trouble, withthat knowledge out in the open, as well as in mind.

Besides, it wasn’t as though not being twenty-nine tookanything away from Fran. Their friend had many things in her life to enjoy andbe proud of, and her age didn’t have any bearing in any of them.

So, he smiled, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

“Alright. We’ll talk about it with her tonight,” he said,before pointing a finger at her, emphasising that he meant what he was about tosay. “Using gentle words, though. You say you don’t think it will kill anybody,but you can never be completely sure.”

C.C., chuckled and grabbed his hand, “As you wish, ScrubBrush.”

The gesture was tender, and her voice amused. She wasagreeing to his terms with neutral feelings, but she was enjoying the fact that hewas being so commanding over it.

He couldn’t hold back a smirk over how it wasn’t the firsttime.

“God, I love it when you agree with what I say…” he practicallygrowled, thinking back to her words before about “making it up to him”.

His wife’s eyebrow shot up and she began to grin, clearlyunderstanding, “Hoping to cash in on that promise I made just now, are we?”

Niles pointedly checked his watch in return, “Well, we dohave a few spare hours before anybody is due to arrive home…”

C.C. cast her eyes quickly towards his sandwich, remindinghim it was still there, “What about your lunch?”

The butler studied her for a moment, and then looked atwhere his sandwich was sat waiting, the bacon and lettuce crisp against the soft,cool tomato and the bread cut thick from the loaf he’d bought only that morning.

He reached out, grabbed his prized lunch and took one bite,chewing it rapidly and swallowing before setting it back down and taking hisnow-laughing wife into his arms.

“I’ll finish it later.”