bakerstreet | ( otherwordly )

He pressed his lips to hers for a brief moment before drawing back, smiling.

"In my bedroom on the nightstand. Go choose one. I'll be right behind you."

Oswald had been torn about what to choose, so he had gotten an assortment of massage oils ranging from sweet to floral in scent. There was no lilac though; definitely no lilac.

Rachel smiled, eyebrows raised. A surprise, on the nightstand? She was beyond curious now.

She got to her feet and made her way into his bedroom. There were several bottles on the table. She picked one up and read the label. Massage oil?

She smiled again, busying herself with examining the labels, and uncapping each bottle in turn, sniffing the contents, trying to decide which one she liked best.

He followed along behind her and leaned against the door frame when he reached it, watching her carefully investigate each bottle. He had to admit, he was curious about which one she'd choose.

Rachel's face lit up when she sniffed the last bottle. "This one," she insisted, smiling, recapping the bottle and reading the label. "Coconut oil. I like the way that smells."

She held the bottle out to him. "Okay. Now what?"

He smiled, stepping forward to take the bottle from her. Oswald approved of her choice. The coconut would smell divine on her.

"Now we get you out of your blouse and bra and onto the bed."

He had initially planned to give her a back massage, but now that he thought about it, he was more than willing to massage wherever she wanted.

She smiled up at him, making sure her necklace--the pendant he'd given her-- was safely tucked inside her shirt before she pulled it off, so it wouldn't get tangled in the collar and have the chain or clasp break.

"Just my shirt and bra?"

He grinned. "I certainly won't object if you'd like to remove more of your clothing."

Rachel laughed softly. "In that case..."

She undressed slowly, knowing he was watching, taking her time with it for his benefit. She let each piece of clothing drop to the floor once she'd removed it; when she was completely undressed she looked up at him, smiling, a faint flush coloring her cheeks.

She wasn't as bashful as she'd been the first time Oswald had seen her naked. There was still just a flutter of nerves now and then. But she knew he liked seeing her like this, that he found her beautiful, and that helped.

He watched her with rapt attention, enjoying the slow reveal of her body to him. He was glad that she felt comfortable doing something like that. Oswald subconsciously licked his lips. Sometimes it still surprised him that she was all his.

"Beautiful," he murmured with a soft, genuine smile. He couldn't help admiring her a while longer before holding up the bottle of massage oil.

"Where does my dove want to be stroked?"

The color rose even higher across Rachel's face, from both the frank admiration with which he watched her, making it clear his praise wasn't just hollow flattery, and from the rather filthy thoughts that immediately crossed her mind at his suggestion.

Instead she smiled up at him. "My back and shoulders. That's probably a good place to start. What would you like me to do so you can do that?"

"Lie on you stomach, please."

Oswald knew straddling her so he could properly massage her back was going to be bad for his knee, but this was something he wanted to do for her. He could easily pretend it wasn't bothering him and focus all his attention on making her feel good. This was something special that he wanted for her. Nothing was going to get in the way of that.

Rachel did as she was told, climbing onto the bed and stretching out on her stomach. After a moment she reached up, sweeping her hair to one side to expose the back of her neck.

"How's this?"

"Perfect," he said as he crawled onto the bed with her and straddled her hips. He fidgeted a little to get his knee in a decent position, then reached down to stroke her skin with long, delicate touches. Oswald loved the way her skin felt, and wanted this one indulgence before he got started.

It was an unusual--but not unpleasant--sensation, having someone straddle her hips while she was flat out on her stomach. It made sense, though, if he was going to rub her back.

She was concerned about Oswald's knee. She couldn't see him, couldn't tell what he was doing or if he was in any discomfort. She had to trust that he was doing what was comfortable for him.

She sighed, pleased, at the first pass of his hands over her skin. A few more strokes and she wiggled a little beneath him, stretching out her arms, arching her back slightly under his touches. "That feels good," she said, the tone of her voice entirely pleased.

"I like it too," he breathed softly, admiring her as he ran his fingers along her skin with feather light touches. The massage oil could wait a little while. It would ruin the delicacy of his touches.

Rachel hummed, clearly pleased by those strokes. It wasn't even necessarily anything sexual; it would be nice to be touched this way before or during lovemaking, sure, but this felt fantastic on its own. His touches were gentle, loving, and she reveled in them.

She folded her arms so she could rest her head on them, turned to one side for comfort. She settled her cheek on her crossed arms, and closed her eyes with a contented sigh.

He ran his fingers down her shoulders and along her sides, sliding them up her spine to start the process all over again. Her skin was smooth and soft. Oswald was getting just as much out of it as she was then.

Rachel's breathing slowed, evening out, and her body started to relax gradually under his touch. This felt so good. There was the obvious physical sensation, of course, the feel of his hands on her bare skin, and how pleasurable that was.

But it felt even better knowing he was touching her so lovingly, with such tenderness and admiration, because he wanted to be. Because he felt she deserved it, because he felt she was worthy of his attention and his affection.

Every so often one of her breaths caught her vocal cords on its way out, the exhalation carried out on a pleased hum. A contented smile curved her mouth.

Oswald smiled as he stroked her back and shoulders. The massage oil was lying on the bed beside him, but he wasn't so sure he'd need it anymore. Every touch was deliberate, gentle and loving. He felt so much affection for her. He wanted it to show in each of his touches.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured as he admired her; so beautiful, yes, and all his.

"...You really think so?"

Rachel was usually good at hiding her insecurities. She'd always been the type to paste on a brave face no matter what; her mother had taught her that. Never show the world any weakness.

But Oswald wasn't the world and even when they had been kids, because they had always been so open and honest with each other, and shared everything, from time to time some little bit of self-doubt would bubble up like this.

"Of course I do," Oswald insisted gently. "I've always thought of you as beautiful." He laughed. "Well, pretty when we were just kids."

He knew that she sometimes had doubts about herself, though he had never understood why. His own self-doubts were for obvious reasons. He wasn't a handsome man and nobody could convince him otherwise, but Rachel? She was gorgeous.

Oswald leaned down to kiss between her shoulder blades. "I'll always think you're beautiful."

"You thought I was pretty when we were kids?" That was a surprising thing to hear. But he'd kept so much to himself for so long.

She sighed softly at the press of his lips between her shoulder blades. That felt good too. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"I did," he said with a small smile. "I brought you so many flowers because I thought you were pretty like they were."

He kissed her one more time before sitting up to stroke her back again.

"You don't have to thank me. That's just how I've always thought of you."

"I remember you doing that. I just never realized why."

There were so many things that made so much more sense now that she knew how he felt about her, how he'd harbored those feelings for so long.

"I know I don't have to thank you. But it's still nice to hear you say it. And I want you to know I appreciate it. I don't ever want you to feel like I take you for granted.

She squirmed a little beneath him, stretching out her arms.

"I don't ever feel that way," he assured her, stroking her sides with both hands. "I had a lot of doubts at first, but not anymore. I know you love and appreciate me just as much as I do you."

He paused a moment when she squirmed beneath him.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

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