I ran a contest in November of 2012, with three possible ways to enter: draw Jaehab, voice-act Ellen's description of her tiefling warlock, or write fanfiction of any sort. This is an example of the third option, from as done by my official Number One Fan, Sorcyress.


That's how it had started, on a boring Saturday afternoon. Ellen was in her room playing warcrack, and Max was flopped over Jamie's lap in the living room as he tried to sketch out designs for a new game.

"Hypothetically..." Max started, rolling around to grin up at Jamie. "If you were going to seduce Ellen, what would you do?"

Jamie frowned slightly as he looked down from his notebook. "Hypothetically?"

"Yeah. Not you actually taking any actions toward it, but in a different world, if you _were_ going to, as the colloquialism says, enter the pants of Miss Ellen Boorsen, how would you go about doing it?" Max grinned as she finished, clearly attempting to look disarming, even innocent. Jamie shut his notebook and bopped her lightly on the head with it.

"I don't know really. She likes sweet things, maybe I'd start there... let me think a minute, I haven't really considered this one."

There was a short pause, in which Max distractingly nestled the back of her head into Jamie's crotch. He looked down, "Stop that, wench."

"Think faster then!"

"Okay, fine. So, I'd probably start right after her Krav Maga class, since that's when we'd have the most time. I'd wait for her to get into the shower and then I'd begin making something delicious --creme brulee french toast or cinnamon roll pancakes or something. Hm, maybe I could adapt Alton's maple-nutmeg waffles to have some of cooking-comically's pumpkin whipped cream, and then I could add--"

Max coughed pointedly.

"Sorry." The faint smile he wore when cooking disappeared back into thoughtfulness. "Anyways, just as she comes out of the shower, clad only in a towel... her skin flushed and steaming... that's when I'll strike! Sidle up to her and mention I can't find some crucial ingredient and entice her to come find it for me. Then she's kneeling on the floor, bending over to get something out of the cabinets and I can't help but admire the way her towel rides up over her legs and towards her..." he blinked, momentarily unfocused.

Max leaned up. "Yesssss?"

"Well, as soon as she's found the whatever-I-need, I'll add it to the recipe and offer her a taste of the batter--"

"--hurr, offer her a taste of YOUR--" Jamie rapped Max on the head with his notebook again.

"Which of us is doing the hypothetical seducing again? I'd let her lick an offered spoon, but accidentally spill a bit on my hand. Something that tastes good before it's baked... yeah, I should probably go with those cinnamon roll pancakes after all. But whatever I use, she'll like it enough that once the spoon is clean, she'll look longingly at the bowl for more.

"At which point, I'll offer her my hand. She'll be hesitant at first, but I'll assure her I'm clean and so she'll lean over my hand and carefully lick it clean, slowly wrapping her tongue aroun--hey!"

Jamie glared down, startled, at his companion. Max had her lips firmly around his pointer finger, and was sucking gently.

"Just providing realism?" she tried, around a mouthful of knuckle.

"I thought you were trying to get me to seduce Ellen, not you." A brief pause. "Hypothetically." Jamie pulled his hand away and wiped the spit on Max's leg. "Where was I?"

"Your man batter all up in her mouth." Max grinned.

Jamie quirked an eyebrow at Max, amused. "Right. So she'll lick the batter off my hand and we'll both have to confront the inherent tension between us. Perhaps her hand will slip a little, and the towel will -not fall, mind- loosen, exposing further the soft flesh of her breasts. I'll offer her another spoonful, but this time I'll take care to let the batter fall not on my skin, but hers-"

"-Now that the towel's conveniently out of the way?"

"Exactly. She'll blush lightly when she observes the spill, but then shyly offer to let me clean it up. I'll lean over and skim my tongue over the top of her breast, and as I thoroughly clean away the dough, I'll be sure to throw in a light nibble, just below her collarbone. This will make her jump, which will cause me to look up in concern and apologize, confirm that I'm not overstepping the bounds of our roommate agreement.

"Our eyes will meet, and she'll bite her lip, considering for a moment. I'll offer all the space she could need, turning and stepping back to the batter, pretending to be thoroughly engrossed in my task, while sneaking subtle looks across to her, making clear my desire. When I turn fully away, she'll make up her mind and step forward, sliding her hands around me and up the front of my shirt. When I try to pour the batter gracefully into the pan, I'll invariably be shaky. Certainly get more on my hand, and probably some on my shirt too."

Jamie was becoming engrossed in the telling, his hands moving delicately through the air for emphasis as his voice spilled out the dirty details. "Of course, when I notice I've got batter on my shirt, I'll insist on removing it immediately, so I don't smear the batter everywhere, which allows Ellen ample time to admire my muscular physique."

He narrowed his eyes at Max, who was giggling a little at the thought. "It's a wiry sort of muscle." he continued, his voice indignant. "She'll be overcome with the urge to clean the batter off my hand, then continue her explorations up my arm and along my collarbone. I'll groan and pull her closer to me, wrapping one arm around to clutch her back while supporting what weight I can with the other --I rather suspect this is the point where her legs begin to grow weak."

Max's eyes had grown suitably eager throughout the telling of the tale. "And then?" She squeaked, leaning up to stare at Jamie hungrily.

"No and then. I've rather thoroughly explained the seduction, I've no need to explain what happens next."

"What!?" Max sat bolt upright and scowled. "Jamie Halligan, that is no fair at all."

"Agreed!" Both heads snapped towards the new voice. Ellen was leaning against the wall outside her door, a wry smile on her face. "You've got the lady all weak-kneed and trembling" -here Ellen snorted in derision- "why not take the logical step and have her bodice become well and truly ripped."

Jamie was blushing now, trying not to meet Ellen's eyes. "Because I respect her as a person and I was only examining a hypothetical scenario at the urging of our passionate blonde friend here?"

"Mmhm. Max, how many times have I asked you to keep your nose out of my romantic life?" Ellen turned her gaze on Max, annoyance cutting through her amusement.

"Aw, come on Ellen, I was just wondering what would happen if! Thoughts aren't harmful, are they? Besides, what can I say, the boy tells a good tale, yeah? Something to moisten the ol' ladybits--"

"Ah but what if it became more than a what-if?" Jamie interrupted. "It was enough to get Ellen out of her room to listen in, what if by her overhearing my story, it was enough to cause her to become interested. Exchanging the hypothetical for the actual, as it were."

"Nice thought, but I'm gonna go with not. happening." Ellen pause for a moment, considering. "Although if those creme brulee pancakes are real, I wouldn't say no to a batch..."

Max bounced excitedly in her seat. "Just like your-ow!" Jamie tried to look nonchalant, which almost never works when you have just punched someone in the arm.

"Thanks." Ellen flashed him a wicked grin. "You're a good storyteller though." She turned back towards her room. Just hen she'd crossed the threshhold and was no longer visible to the two in the living room she called back "Sometime when Max isn't around, you'll have to let me know how it ends."