To Love & Honor
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Category:
1 through F › Control Factor
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
835
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Control Factor, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
To Love & Honor
TITLE: To Love & To Honor AKA the Foodstuffs Series
SUMMARY: She’s only had one previous domestic op that ended before it could really begin. [Control Factor!fic]
RATING: M
SPOILERS: Some movie details.
DISCLAIMER: Control Factor belongs to SCIFI & Universal
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have not seen a single Control Factor fic out there. Either I’m not looking hard enough or I’m the only dope that liked it. Probably because I’ll watch anything with Adam Baldwin in it. Word counts: 431, 735, 169, 223, 242, 337
Yogurt
Karen likes his eyes.
If she’s honest with herself, she likes the rest of him, too. Especially the cords in his forearms that flex as he picks out ripe fruit in the produce section. She’s been told not to fail this time and seriously doubts that she could even grab his attention. How could she fail if she couldn’t even catch those gorgeous eyes of his?
“Miss?”
Karen nearly jumps out of her skin. Her assignment flashes an attractive, gleaming white grin at her reaction and nearly reaches out one of those big hands to steady her.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you—you just looked…” he purses his lips and then looks at the ugly tiled floor of the supermarket. He gives a half-laugh-half-sigh through his nose and smiles crookedly.
Karen clears her throat and changes her grip on her basket full of soup cans and yogurt. “What?”
He meets her eyes and she’s suddenly very aware of the fact that she wore flat-heeled shoes on this particular outing. She laments the loss of height as he almost towers above her.
“I’m not good at this,” he admits.
“What’s that?” Karen manages.
He shakes his head and offers that same big hand of his. “Lance Bishop: World’s Worst Flirter.”
Karen can’t help the laugh. She shakes his hand. “Karen Gordon: The Staring Problem Queen.”
Lance cocks an eyebrow at her and releases her hand. She misses its warmth and worries about getting too attached to him. If she likes him so much right now, how in God’s name will she handle what’s to come?
He’s looking in her basket and suddenly Karen is embarrassed. Here he is with a cart full of food that takes preparation and time and she’s waltzing around with cans of microwaveable soup and plastic cups of yogurt.
And one thing of butterscotch pudding. That’s about the extent of her culinary skills.
“Hey, uh, you want a homemade dinner?” Lance asks.
Karen swallows a lump in her throat.
“Ah, Christ, I didn’t mean it like…” he sighs through his nose again and pinches the space between his eyebrows. “Sorry. I’m gonna go now. Before I completely humiliate myself any further.”
Karen just manages to grab Lance’s elbow as he tries to breeze past her. “Hang on,” she feels her courage returning. “I… I know we just met, but to be honest, I burn water. And I would like to eat some real food with some real company.”
His face lifts and another easy grin crinkles the corners of his eyes.
Karen really likes those eyes.
Coffee
They’ve been dating just two weeks when she invites him up to her apartment for “coffee.” He actually makes a pot of coffee when she lets him in, but after she yanks his T-shirt out of his jeans and runs her fingernails across his abdomen the coffee is forgotten completely.
“Karen…”
She stands on her tiptoes and brushes her lips across his. Lance drops a hand down and gently cups her bottom to lift her up high enough to reach his mouth without straining. Karen gives a murmur of appreciation and kisses him fully—deciding to pretend just for tonight that she’s just the realtor she told him she was.
His tongue dips in-between her lips and teases the back of her teeth.
“Oh God,” she manages.
“Mm.”
Lance’s free hand reaches into her mass of curly hair and tilts her head further to the right. He possess her mouth with his and walks aimlessly through her apartment—still holding her up against him even as he bangs his hip on her kitchen island.
Karen manages to pry one eye open to see his face as he devours her.
His eyes are closed. His brow is pinched in total concentration.
Total concentration on her.
She drags him into her bedroom and pounces on him with the girliest giggle she’s ever given.
Lance is smiling wide and whole—letting her take control. Karen isn’t used to being in control in situations like this and is thrown for a loop when he raises his arms and waggles his eyebrows at her. Karen grabs the hem of his T-shirt and drags it over his head.
So that’s what he’s been hiding…
“How often do you work out?” Karen wonders out loud. Lance goes to answer her, but the words are lost when she tosses her cute little sleeveless top across the bedroom. He grins at her plain white cotton bra for a moment before he unhooks the back of it and slides the straps down her arms.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.
As he clutches her to him and unzips her skirt, Karen can’t help but imagine him saying those words to her day after day. Something snaps inside her at this thought and she frantically tears the rest of their clothing off—cursing at his jeans as they bunch up on his long legs and get stuck.
Lance manages to kick them off and stares at Karen with a surprised eyebrow raised as she tosses her skirt and panties into the shadows. He moves to grab the condom in his wallet, but she pushes him flat on his back and pins him to her mattress with wild eyes.
“Karen—”
“Lance, I want to feel you. You. I want…” she looked conflicted over something he didn’t know about—her real job and how she had to use him… Use him when she really did feel something powerful whenever he was around. Powerful enough that one might call it love.
Lance’s sharp blue eyes flicker across her face and he cups her cheeks. “The thing is, Karen, I think I just might be in love with you.”
Joy floods through Karen’s veins and she smiles at him. “Then we’re in the same boat, Lance.”
He kisses her again—achingly tender. “I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone in my life,” he admits.
And Karen feels it too. She damns herself with her next words. “Marry me.”
Lance grins. “Absolutely,” he says.
Karen smiles softly and kisses him again. She could get lost in his mouth… Lost but not completely unaware. She guides his hot length into her body—already pulsing with excitement and so warm and tight that Lance doesn’t want to leave her ever again.
She pushes against his chest for leverage and sets a slow rhythm that has her thighs shaking and a cramp developing in her calves. She whines helplessly and throws her head back until the curled tendrils of her hair brush his knees.
Lance sits up and takes her into the cradle of his body—gently maneuvering her into a more comfortable position and stroking her pulse with his tongue.
She’s so quiet about her pleasure—softly gasping deeper and deeper as the precipice nears. Her eyes snap open wide enough that Lance can see all the different shades of green in each iris. Just before the rising pressure breaks into beautiful completion, Lance promises to memorize each different color.
Lemons
She gets a call from her boss—her real boss—just two days before the wedding and everything crashes back to earth around her.
This is a domestic assignment. Marriage is supposed to guarantee a stronger bond.
But this time, Karen fears that the bond is too strong. To do her job she’ll have to detach herself from this man that she sincerely has deep feelings for. She’ll have to grow cold in that final test—a dispassionate bitch who could care less about anyone or anything except her own job. His strong love for her now will no doubt burn itself into a profound hatred when he finds out what she’s really doing.
Tricking him like this.
Her mouth feels constantly bitter—sucked dry of all moisture and lemon puckered with betrayal. Mata Hari. Jezebel. Delilah…
Karen smoothes out a wrinkle in her wedding dress with a shaking hand and takes two Lithium pills to settle herself.
Her love is going to kill him.
His love is killing her inside.
Cake
It’s decorated in those little edible ball bearings she used to love as a kid. Too pretty to cut into and eat. But that granola and yogurt she had for breakfast was long gone, her heels were hurting from the shoes she was wearing (to make up for the height difference), and she was really in the mood for cake.
Lance was giving it that same dazed look that was—no doubt—crossing Karen’s face.
Pomp and circumstance—ceremony, long speeches, a kiss not quite appropriate for church, a boring speech from the best man that was just…
Never ending.
Lance finally gives in, yanks the microphone away from his best friend of twenty years, and tells him to “sit his ass down.”
He then grabs the cake knife and Karen’s hand and slices off those first two ceremonial pieces. They over-dramatize the linking of the arms and shove both slices in their spouse’s mouth entirely.
Lance grins toothily around fondant and edible ball bearings and kisses his wife.
Karen feels herself center and calm—tells herself to just live in the moment from now on. She’ll live in the moment until that fateful day comes and promises herself not to dwell on it.
When Lance breaks free of her mouth, they’re both smiling and smeared in icing.
Living in the now is definitely more important.
Ice
Bitch… Karen inwardly screams at herself and hides in the locked women’s room to finally let her emotions out. After hours upon hours of questions about her feelings toward Lance, she is exhausted and hating herself for being so cold—for having the capability of being like that.
She bites her lower lip and trails a hand across her abdomen.
I’ll take care of it.
New tears follow the older trails and dampen the ends of her hair. It’s a baby growing inside of her, not some… Thing. Take care of it?
Frigid bitch, Karen holds her middle and sobs. She knows she can’t let this go on any longer and she wants nothing more than to curl up against Lance’s chest like always and breathe him in.
But she can’t. Because right now he’s on the run and he hates her. He hates her and she loves him more than life.
Karen angrily swipes at her face and glares at her reflection in the mirror. She’s going to fix this. She’s going to set things right because the one emotion that they haven’t been able to catalogue with all their sophisticated equipment and torture devices is the one emotion that will bring them down.
Love.
Karen splashes her face with cold water, assumes her “Medusa” persona, and walks coolly out of the washroom.
The bastards won’t know what hit them. Her baby wasn’t going to grow up in a world like this.
Butterscotch
Lance tugs on the brim of his ball cap and empties one entire rack of butterscotch pudding cups into his hand basket. It’s not the same grocery store he met Karen in but it’s still a Bloom.
It’s also the middle of the night.
Lance stifles a yawn and shuffles forward through the dairy isle in the general direction of the checkout stand.
It’s the middle of the night and Karen wants butterscotch pudding.
The cashier—bored to hell—perks up slightly at the sight of Lance. She’s about half his height and has an art history textbook and notes propped up against the magazine stand and looks like she’s about three seconds away from running to the coolers three isles over and snagging a beer. Lance half-smiles and upends the hand basket on the conveyer belt.
The girl raises an eyebrow that disappears beneath her blonde bangs. “You like pudding or something?”
Lance snorts. He’s running on sheer willpower by now and can only form two coherent words. “Pregnant wife.”
She’s speedy—ringing up the pudding two handed. “Ah,” she nods in understanding. “Happen a lot?”
“Always around midnight,” Lance finally manages.
“You just move here? I’m always on the graveyard shift and I haven’t seen you before. That’ll be $35.33.”
Lance fishes around the back pocket of his jeans and grabs his wallet. He hands the girl two twenties and three pennies from his hip pocket. “Yep.”
She counts out his change, hands it to him with the receipt, and starts bagging the pudding. “Why’d you pick Nokesville?”
Lance grins now. “For one, it’s a whole lot quieter.”
She snorts and tugs on one thick steel earring. “Got that right. Can’t even get a signal on my cell out here,” she grins and flips back to her art history notes. “Have a good night, then,” she says.
As he leaves the grocery store, he walks backwards and salutes her. “Will do. See you tomorrow.”
She’s still giggling quietly to herself as he drives off into the dark, crooked night.
The Beginning.
SUMMARY: She’s only had one previous domestic op that ended before it could really begin. [Control Factor!fic]
RATING: M
SPOILERS: Some movie details.
DISCLAIMER: Control Factor belongs to SCIFI & Universal
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have not seen a single Control Factor fic out there. Either I’m not looking hard enough or I’m the only dope that liked it. Probably because I’ll watch anything with Adam Baldwin in it. Word counts: 431, 735, 169, 223, 242, 337
Yogurt
Karen likes his eyes.
If she’s honest with herself, she likes the rest of him, too. Especially the cords in his forearms that flex as he picks out ripe fruit in the produce section. She’s been told not to fail this time and seriously doubts that she could even grab his attention. How could she fail if she couldn’t even catch those gorgeous eyes of his?
“Miss?”
Karen nearly jumps out of her skin. Her assignment flashes an attractive, gleaming white grin at her reaction and nearly reaches out one of those big hands to steady her.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you—you just looked…” he purses his lips and then looks at the ugly tiled floor of the supermarket. He gives a half-laugh-half-sigh through his nose and smiles crookedly.
Karen clears her throat and changes her grip on her basket full of soup cans and yogurt. “What?”
He meets her eyes and she’s suddenly very aware of the fact that she wore flat-heeled shoes on this particular outing. She laments the loss of height as he almost towers above her.
“I’m not good at this,” he admits.
“What’s that?” Karen manages.
He shakes his head and offers that same big hand of his. “Lance Bishop: World’s Worst Flirter.”
Karen can’t help the laugh. She shakes his hand. “Karen Gordon: The Staring Problem Queen.”
Lance cocks an eyebrow at her and releases her hand. She misses its warmth and worries about getting too attached to him. If she likes him so much right now, how in God’s name will she handle what’s to come?
He’s looking in her basket and suddenly Karen is embarrassed. Here he is with a cart full of food that takes preparation and time and she’s waltzing around with cans of microwaveable soup and plastic cups of yogurt.
And one thing of butterscotch pudding. That’s about the extent of her culinary skills.
“Hey, uh, you want a homemade dinner?” Lance asks.
Karen swallows a lump in her throat.
“Ah, Christ, I didn’t mean it like…” he sighs through his nose again and pinches the space between his eyebrows. “Sorry. I’m gonna go now. Before I completely humiliate myself any further.”
Karen just manages to grab Lance’s elbow as he tries to breeze past her. “Hang on,” she feels her courage returning. “I… I know we just met, but to be honest, I burn water. And I would like to eat some real food with some real company.”
His face lifts and another easy grin crinkles the corners of his eyes.
Karen really likes those eyes.
Coffee
They’ve been dating just two weeks when she invites him up to her apartment for “coffee.” He actually makes a pot of coffee when she lets him in, but after she yanks his T-shirt out of his jeans and runs her fingernails across his abdomen the coffee is forgotten completely.
“Karen…”
She stands on her tiptoes and brushes her lips across his. Lance drops a hand down and gently cups her bottom to lift her up high enough to reach his mouth without straining. Karen gives a murmur of appreciation and kisses him fully—deciding to pretend just for tonight that she’s just the realtor she told him she was.
His tongue dips in-between her lips and teases the back of her teeth.
“Oh God,” she manages.
“Mm.”
Lance’s free hand reaches into her mass of curly hair and tilts her head further to the right. He possess her mouth with his and walks aimlessly through her apartment—still holding her up against him even as he bangs his hip on her kitchen island.
Karen manages to pry one eye open to see his face as he devours her.
His eyes are closed. His brow is pinched in total concentration.
Total concentration on her.
She drags him into her bedroom and pounces on him with the girliest giggle she’s ever given.
Lance is smiling wide and whole—letting her take control. Karen isn’t used to being in control in situations like this and is thrown for a loop when he raises his arms and waggles his eyebrows at her. Karen grabs the hem of his T-shirt and drags it over his head.
So that’s what he’s been hiding…
“How often do you work out?” Karen wonders out loud. Lance goes to answer her, but the words are lost when she tosses her cute little sleeveless top across the bedroom. He grins at her plain white cotton bra for a moment before he unhooks the back of it and slides the straps down her arms.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.
As he clutches her to him and unzips her skirt, Karen can’t help but imagine him saying those words to her day after day. Something snaps inside her at this thought and she frantically tears the rest of their clothing off—cursing at his jeans as they bunch up on his long legs and get stuck.
Lance manages to kick them off and stares at Karen with a surprised eyebrow raised as she tosses her skirt and panties into the shadows. He moves to grab the condom in his wallet, but she pushes him flat on his back and pins him to her mattress with wild eyes.
“Karen—”
“Lance, I want to feel you. You. I want…” she looked conflicted over something he didn’t know about—her real job and how she had to use him… Use him when she really did feel something powerful whenever he was around. Powerful enough that one might call it love.
Lance’s sharp blue eyes flicker across her face and he cups her cheeks. “The thing is, Karen, I think I just might be in love with you.”
Joy floods through Karen’s veins and she smiles at him. “Then we’re in the same boat, Lance.”
He kisses her again—achingly tender. “I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone in my life,” he admits.
And Karen feels it too. She damns herself with her next words. “Marry me.”
Lance grins. “Absolutely,” he says.
Karen smiles softly and kisses him again. She could get lost in his mouth… Lost but not completely unaware. She guides his hot length into her body—already pulsing with excitement and so warm and tight that Lance doesn’t want to leave her ever again.
She pushes against his chest for leverage and sets a slow rhythm that has her thighs shaking and a cramp developing in her calves. She whines helplessly and throws her head back until the curled tendrils of her hair brush his knees.
Lance sits up and takes her into the cradle of his body—gently maneuvering her into a more comfortable position and stroking her pulse with his tongue.
She’s so quiet about her pleasure—softly gasping deeper and deeper as the precipice nears. Her eyes snap open wide enough that Lance can see all the different shades of green in each iris. Just before the rising pressure breaks into beautiful completion, Lance promises to memorize each different color.
Lemons
She gets a call from her boss—her real boss—just two days before the wedding and everything crashes back to earth around her.
This is a domestic assignment. Marriage is supposed to guarantee a stronger bond.
But this time, Karen fears that the bond is too strong. To do her job she’ll have to detach herself from this man that she sincerely has deep feelings for. She’ll have to grow cold in that final test—a dispassionate bitch who could care less about anyone or anything except her own job. His strong love for her now will no doubt burn itself into a profound hatred when he finds out what she’s really doing.
Tricking him like this.
Her mouth feels constantly bitter—sucked dry of all moisture and lemon puckered with betrayal. Mata Hari. Jezebel. Delilah…
Karen smoothes out a wrinkle in her wedding dress with a shaking hand and takes two Lithium pills to settle herself.
Her love is going to kill him.
His love is killing her inside.
Cake
It’s decorated in those little edible ball bearings she used to love as a kid. Too pretty to cut into and eat. But that granola and yogurt she had for breakfast was long gone, her heels were hurting from the shoes she was wearing (to make up for the height difference), and she was really in the mood for cake.
Lance was giving it that same dazed look that was—no doubt—crossing Karen’s face.
Pomp and circumstance—ceremony, long speeches, a kiss not quite appropriate for church, a boring speech from the best man that was just…
Never ending.
Lance finally gives in, yanks the microphone away from his best friend of twenty years, and tells him to “sit his ass down.”
He then grabs the cake knife and Karen’s hand and slices off those first two ceremonial pieces. They over-dramatize the linking of the arms and shove both slices in their spouse’s mouth entirely.
Lance grins toothily around fondant and edible ball bearings and kisses his wife.
Karen feels herself center and calm—tells herself to just live in the moment from now on. She’ll live in the moment until that fateful day comes and promises herself not to dwell on it.
When Lance breaks free of her mouth, they’re both smiling and smeared in icing.
Living in the now is definitely more important.
Ice
Bitch… Karen inwardly screams at herself and hides in the locked women’s room to finally let her emotions out. After hours upon hours of questions about her feelings toward Lance, she is exhausted and hating herself for being so cold—for having the capability of being like that.
She bites her lower lip and trails a hand across her abdomen.
I’ll take care of it.
New tears follow the older trails and dampen the ends of her hair. It’s a baby growing inside of her, not some… Thing. Take care of it?
Frigid bitch, Karen holds her middle and sobs. She knows she can’t let this go on any longer and she wants nothing more than to curl up against Lance’s chest like always and breathe him in.
But she can’t. Because right now he’s on the run and he hates her. He hates her and she loves him more than life.
Karen angrily swipes at her face and glares at her reflection in the mirror. She’s going to fix this. She’s going to set things right because the one emotion that they haven’t been able to catalogue with all their sophisticated equipment and torture devices is the one emotion that will bring them down.
Love.
Karen splashes her face with cold water, assumes her “Medusa” persona, and walks coolly out of the washroom.
The bastards won’t know what hit them. Her baby wasn’t going to grow up in a world like this.
Butterscotch
Lance tugs on the brim of his ball cap and empties one entire rack of butterscotch pudding cups into his hand basket. It’s not the same grocery store he met Karen in but it’s still a Bloom.
It’s also the middle of the night.
Lance stifles a yawn and shuffles forward through the dairy isle in the general direction of the checkout stand.
It’s the middle of the night and Karen wants butterscotch pudding.
The cashier—bored to hell—perks up slightly at the sight of Lance. She’s about half his height and has an art history textbook and notes propped up against the magazine stand and looks like she’s about three seconds away from running to the coolers three isles over and snagging a beer. Lance half-smiles and upends the hand basket on the conveyer belt.
The girl raises an eyebrow that disappears beneath her blonde bangs. “You like pudding or something?”
Lance snorts. He’s running on sheer willpower by now and can only form two coherent words. “Pregnant wife.”
She’s speedy—ringing up the pudding two handed. “Ah,” she nods in understanding. “Happen a lot?”
“Always around midnight,” Lance finally manages.
“You just move here? I’m always on the graveyard shift and I haven’t seen you before. That’ll be $35.33.”
Lance fishes around the back pocket of his jeans and grabs his wallet. He hands the girl two twenties and three pennies from his hip pocket. “Yep.”
She counts out his change, hands it to him with the receipt, and starts bagging the pudding. “Why’d you pick Nokesville?”
Lance grins now. “For one, it’s a whole lot quieter.”
She snorts and tugs on one thick steel earring. “Got that right. Can’t even get a signal on my cell out here,” she grins and flips back to her art history notes. “Have a good night, then,” she says.
As he leaves the grocery store, he walks backwards and salutes her. “Will do. See you tomorrow.”
She’s still giggling quietly to herself as he drives off into the dark, crooked night.
The Beginning.