I originally wrote for myself a while back when I wanted to skip forward a bit with my Borrower and Bean characters into NSFW territory. Also as a sort of shameless ode to the male body 
Recently, I went ahead in refining it into a more shareable one-shot.
Summary: Borrower, Adelly, is conflicted about her developing feelings for Phillip, her Bean housemate (landlord??). He comes home with a delicious treat that she can’t help but try for herself and she finds out whether or not her feelings for him are mutual. This is a gentle, fluffy/romantic story. FYI, NSFW content about 4/5ths of the way through (end of the first half, start of the second).
Hope you enjoy!
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There was a bite to the morning; a fresh chill that woke her with a sharp smack on her shoulder. Adelly recklessly pawed for her blanket, not quite ready to greet the day, but failed to make contact. With a huff and a groan, she begrudgingly sat up and opened her eyes with some effort. She blinked and rubbed her palms into her cheeks when her sight took some time to refocus. As she removed her hands from her face, she found herself exactly where she had fallen asleep: atop the Bean’s pillow, close to where he lay his head. They were up talking until late again. Normally, she preferred to lie on his chest, but when their conversations continued into the night, the pillow seemed a safer option than being on his person.
Phillip was already up and nowhere to be seen. It was curiously quiet, she observed as she looked about the room for her housemate. Some time must have already passed: the deep crater of his imprint on the bed had since been restored, and the accompanying warmth had faded. He was gone, save for a stray hair that was half the length of Adelly’s body which lay beside her on the edge of the pillowy field. And of course, his scent. She smiled, happily inhaled the residual notes of lavender and rosemary, and exhaled with a delighted sigh.
Looking to the window, she noticed light barely trickling in through the crack between the curtains. Grey clouds hinted at a low chance of warming up, and without the radiant heat source of Phillip’s body, it would probably be best to get out of her nightgown - a simple slip of silk - as soon as possible.
Adelly stretched her arms upward, hands gripping the corners of the blanket, and let out an extended yawn and a couple of satisfying pops in her spine. She stood a little less gracefully, having the balance on the soft uneven surface of the down pillow, and stalked her way carefully to the edge. There she slid down the gentle decline to the top of the mattress and made her way to the woven jute ladder that stretched all the way down to the floor. It was a simple installation that resulted from her many night time visits which, these days, almost always ended with her staying there. It made relatively quick work of scaling the bed compared to climbing the sheets or the notches on the bedpost.
As she tied her blanket around her neck like a cloak, she began her descent down the ladder. In the meantime, she listened out for any signs of Phillip in the house. Usually she would hear the clatter of pots, or the heavy thump of his boots on the floorboards. Even the greenhouse door would be audible as its hinges groaned when it swung open. The silence became unsettling. He was clearly not home. In one way, she wouldn’t have to worry about them running into each other accidentally (arguably a greater issue for her than it was for him) as she took the opportunity to meander languidly across the vast floorscape. In another way, the house already felt lonely as she wondered where he could be.
Suddenly, the clack of the backdoor latch lifting resounded crisply through the house.
Her instincts took over and Adelly took off at a pace that matched the rhythm of her racing heart. There was some distance between the back entrance and the bedroom which would still take Phillip time to cover if he was headed back her way. Still, she did not want to risk being in the middle of the room if he appeared and failed to see her on the floor. She dashed to the nook in the skirting board, beside the wardrobe, that marked the entrance to her hovel within the walls. As her little feet tapped quickly across the floorboards, she heard the echoing thumps of Phillip’s boots pass on to hard stone. The kitchen, she reckoned, would be her first stop after changing into something more decent.
Today, she opted for her long-sleeved linen blouse and a long skirt she had fashioned from a scrap of fine merino. Despite the cool weather, she had been feeling stuffy with her breeches lately, and a skirt would allow her legs some freedom without compromising on warmth. Long socks and her reliable boots completed her outfit and readied her for the day.
She could still hear Phillip pottering in the kitchen. His boots thudded clearly across the slate floor as he shifted his weight. Judging by his movements, he was hovering about the dining table, so she would be safe if she remained on the skirts of the kitchen floor until she could grab his attention. Living in the walls had its advantages, namely access to covert tunnels that allowed her to move swiftly between rooms without having to cross the floor. The house was small, a single storey bungalow with few rooms and a semi-detached greenhouse, so she grew familiar with the layout quickly. Mind, as a Borrower, it would have been worrying if she hadn’t learned the intimate details of the house by now.
For a creature her stature, the trek through the walls took time - time she would fill with her own ruminations and reflections. Today, she felt a deep red blush welling in her cheeks as she resigned herself to the thought that she had grown to like Phillip…very much. They had grown close since she decided to permanently reside in his home almost a year ago. It was a risk to approach him in the first place, a much greater risk than with other Beans in the past. They were usually children, or people too afraid to approach her - often ones who believed that she was some malicious imp with a penchant for curses. She would indulge in their delusions sometimes and enjoyed seeing the great creatures gasp and bumble backwards away in fright. Otherwise, with few other methods of protection available to her, she relied on their misguided beliefs to bluff her way out and escape, before they got bold enough to pursue her. But Phillip did not react like them; he was neither afraid nor gullible. Behind his quiet demeanor and carefree smile, he knew things, watched things: more than he would let on. And for a while, in the early days of their meeting, that made him dangerous.
He was also big for a Bean, broad in shoulders and chest, and standing a good head taller than most. She herself did not quite reach the height of his index finger. Adelly acknowledged that she and her family were small for Borrowers, but against Phillip’s pillar-esque fingers, she felt even smaller. Staring at her own hands, she imagined what she might have looked like through his eyes: tiny, like an upright insect.
Yet, he was capable of inconceivable gentleness that seemed so uncharacteristic of Beans. Adelly thought of the times he had lifted her by the waist, pinching her between his thumb and forefinger. She could still vividly imagine the massive weight and pressure of both phantom digits pressing against her sides; pads that covered her torso, threatened to squish her like a grape in a snap movement. But there was a careful firmness that assured her that he would not compress further; immovable, but not tight. And while not as encompassing as a hug, his thick fingers emanated a warmth that she welcomed. Then, as quickly as she was plucked up, the vice would release and she would find her feet planted back on a surface again. And sometimes his thumb would sometimes graze lightly against her breast…
Her stomach twisted and lurched forward as she tripped over herself in a fluster.
She cursed under her breath, both at her clumsiness and at the looseness of her thoughts. Adelly tisked and reminded herself of the consequences of getting too personally attached with the Bean. Initially, they were not obliged to one another beyond their agreed living arrangements: she would help with the upkeep of the plants in the greenhouse and he would allow her to stay. Over time, they became close friends, which never weighed on her conscience. Having lived outside of Borrower conventions for most of her life, she felt unbound to the expectations of her kin. But anything beyond friendship seemed taboo, not only by societal standards, but grounded in nature’s laws; something seemed inherently wrong with it. The shame would manifest in her stomach like a weighty ball, growing heavier the more she dwelled on the possibility of anything developing further between her and Phillip.
There were times when she could have sworn that he was looking over her coquettishly, a keen glint in his eye, but then his quiet, polite smile sowed enough doubt to make her dismiss it. The thought roused a sinking throb in her chest, one that she had grown accustomed to suppressing, but which hurt nonetheless.
“You’re a Borrower, he’s a Bean,” she chanted to herself. She looked at her fingers, noting their size again, “It’s better that way,” she added with a defeated sigh.
Fortunately, she made it to the mouth of the kitchen tunnel nook, terminating her train of thought, and she stopped to compose herself. She muttered the word of encouragement to herself before she peeked her head out through the nook. There he was, by the small dining table in the centre of the kitchen, just as she had predicted. Curiously, on the table, there was something loosely draped in coloured muslin.
Something he picked up? She thought and instinctively wondered about the fabric’s utility. It looked new; she might be able to take a portion of it when he was done with it…
There was a clack of crockery as Phillip put down a plate next to the mysterious thing. She craned her neck up further to meet his face, far above even the tabletop. Sunlight shone kindly through the window, illuminating his profile with a warm glow; a sculpted face with lips that seemed permanently curled upward, even slightly, so his resting expression always sported a smile. Though he had found time to shave this morning, he only roughly swept his hair back so wavy locks curled and bounced in whichever direction they were so inclined. His sharp grey eyes peaked behind softly opened eyelids, focussed only on the items on the table.
Cheese and Crusts, he was handsome… She sighed.
He hadn’t yet noticed her poking her head out. Adelly suddenly felt conscious of her appearance and she ran her hands down the front of her skirt to flatten the non-existent wrinkles on the wool. Her heart was racing unusually fast - mortifyingly fast - which she blamed on her silly crush. With a deep breath, balling her hands into little fists, she stepped out and knocked firmly on the skirting with a distinct rhythm.
Phillip looked up and paused, his head tilted so his ear faced the source of the sound, unsure if he had heard something or not. Frankly, she hadn’t expected that he would hear her at all, given their size difference. The house also held all sorts of bumps, creaks and knocks within its walls, which would normally be convenient distractions for Borrowers. Naturally, it prompted discussions between them on how they would navigate their shared spaces, and they agreed for Adelly to use specific knocking patterns to indicate her presence.
She knocked again and took a couple of steps forward, preparing for his approach as agreed. This time, the Bean turned his head back and looked directly at her. She waved and his face lit up with an almost child-like enthusiasm,
“Good morning!” Phillip grinned.
Adelly smiled back, but stayed in position. She watched as he stepped around the table and promptly made his way to her. The sight of his massive body in motion never failed to shake her, but lately, it was a mixture of nervousness and awe. He moved in a way that confused time and space: he appeared slowly, but covered areas with such speed to fit in the span of a blink. His gargantuan leather boots thumped steadily on the slate floor. Each step was like thunder rolling closer as they barreled through the air with no regard for whatever might be underfoot, crumbs and grit crunching as they were trampled into the slate. She swallowed dryly at the sight, at the thought that he wouldn’t even notice if he had accidentally trodden on her.
Distracted by his deceptively quick approach, Adelly’s heart jumped as she watched the hulking Bean lower to one knee with one arm resting atop to help on the ascent back up. His other arm came down and his hand bloomed open in front of her, fingertips only a knuckle length away from her feet.
“I thought you might have still been in bed,” Phillip said, unaware of her reaction, “I have something for you.”
Adelly felt a sense of relief as Phillip’s hand lay in wait, like a great platform that would lift her away from the perils of the floor. She stepped up on his finger and carefully balanced along its length to get into the familiar cup of his palm. Truthfully, being carried by someone else - literally in the palm of their hand - was a recent experience for her, having managed just fine most of her adult life. With it came the inevitable but fleeting swell of vertigo in her stomach that she was getting better at managing, but could never quite get used to. Still, the convenience made it increasingly difficult for her to decline the more it was offered.
“Oh?” she piped with curiosity as she sat and wriggled into his hand. It always felt like sitting on a big, squishy bed.
Her eyes darted eagerly upward when suddenly her stomach dropped, as if being pushed forcefully down into her legs. Phillip carefully rose to his feet and turned to face the tabletop. Adelly watched as her immediate surroundings sunk away as she was lifted higher and higher into greater altitudes.
“Mm-hm,” Phillip simply hummed in the affirmative and began to lower his hand back down near the shrouded object on the table.
It was wide, round, and a little taller than she was. Something was soaking through the muslin, creating a slightly darker stain on the dry portions of cloth. But there was also, in fact, another object she had missed when she was on the ground: a small glass pot with paper wrapped tight around its lip as a lid. It was also slightly taller than her and carried a light amber liquid with white slivers, like thinly sliced grains of rice, suspended inside. The liquid was thick, resembling a light honey.
Fascinated, Adelly stared inquisitively at the covered object and the pot as she stood up and hopped off of Phillip’s hand. As she stepped gradually closer, a warm, comforting aroma wafted from the muslin and was becoming progressively stronger. She sniffed cautiously, incrementally like a mouse until she caught the scent of citrus, honey and butter, exuding the most from the stained spot. Without prompting, Phillip’s great hand pinched a portion of the cloth from above and pulled it away. It was a simple cake; a perfectly baked, golden-brown wheel glittering with a wet but muted sheen on its dappled surface, resting in the centre of a shallow dish.
Adelly turned and looked up at Phillip, towering above as he folded the muslin,
“What is this?” she asked excitedly, “It smells wonderful. Did you get this just now?”
“Mm-hm,” Phillip hummed again, placing the cloth down, “Mrs Davenport was desperate to receive the begonias before noon. Paid extra to have me deliver them this morning. She threw in a freshly made syrup cake for it being a Sunday.”
“Syrup cake,” Adelly echoed, then gestured to the pot of amber liquid, “Does that go with it?”
He nodded, “You pour it over the cake and let it soak a bit. I thought you might like to try it.”
“Oh, yes! Can we have some now?”
Phillip chuckled and nodded again, “Of course. Best when it’s still warm.”
Her excitement to try the new dessert was not enough to distract her from an ensuing scene she had grown to enjoy from past experiences. Phillip began by unbuttoning his cuffs. His muscles pulled parts of his shirt to tautness as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his strong, toned forearms. They shifted and flexed in a seductive show he was otherwise unaware he was performing but which caused Adelly’s little heart to pound wildly. She bit her lips together to suppress a breathy moan, instead releasing it in a pained sigh that hissed out the sides of her mouth,
“Have some dignity,” she hissed to herself. Topping her earlier frustrations, her cheeks tingled painfully as they glowed a brilliant shade of red.
Phillip picked up the pot and peeled open the paper lid. Grateful for a diversion, she watched as he began to carefully pour the syrup over the cake. It spread like a thin, fruity varnish over the spongy walls. Its glossy sheen proved to be only a temporary display as the cake quickly soaked up its extra coating, leaving behind the white slivers on the surface,
“They’re jasmine petals,” Phillip said before turning on his heel to find a knife to cut with.
A strange urge beckoned Adelly to get closer to the cake, to smell it, to touch it. The syrup pooled at the bottom, spreading like a puddle - it would be easy for her to just reach over the lip of the dish and dip her finger into it. And so she did, brushing a finger into the syrup and popping it into her mouth. It was sweet, milder than honey, with hints of cardamom, orange and subtle notes of jasmine. She paused and thought that it probably wouldn’t hurt to try it with a bit of the cake now: just a little, not enough for him to notice. Phillip also seemed to be taking his time with finding an appropriate knife.
She untied her boots and removed her socks before hoisting herself up onto the dish - her Borrowing instincts drove her to move quickly, but with some decorum (it was, of course, rude to walk on the surface of a plate with one’s shoes on). There was a good stride’s length between her and the cake wall where syrup slowly filled the gap like a shallow, golden moat. While it would be easier to tiptoe through the syrup to get to the cake, she was not willing to bear the discomfort of sticky shoes. Instead, she planted her feet firmly on the dish edge and propelled her upper body forward toward the cake wall, arms outstretched to catch herself. One hand promptly gripped and tore out a handful of sponge, leaving enough time for her to make use of the initial momentum and push off from her hands. She was about to succeed when,
“What are you doing?” a voice rumbled from above.
She yelped in surprise and lost her footing. Her legs collapsed and she fell forward, landing in the golden syrup below. Like a ravenous blob, thick sugary film stuck to any part of her that made contact, and the gooey viscous liquid sought to cover places yet untouched. She carefully lifted herself, but her hands lost their grip and she slipped forward again - butter seeped out into the syrup with oily globules bobbing to the surface.
Suddenly, her sides were pressed in by familiar masses and she was lifted off of the dish. Long pearly threads of sugary liquid stretched and drooped between her and the puddle below, clinging at her to stay. But against the incomparable strength of the Bean, they tore away with ease, leaving her still covered in an oily, sugary coating. Adelly happily received the assistance, turning to her rescuer with a sigh of embarrassed relief. She swallowed, unable to read the emotion knitted in his brow.
It may have been the first time she had seen Phillip without a smile on his face, and it was certainly the first frown. He would have normally set her down by now, but his eyes darted up and down the length of her little body, pinched helplessly between his finger and thumb. Her skirt was blotched and smeared with syrup, but which remained suspended on the surface by the fine woolen fibres. Her blouse, meanwhile, was soaked and clung tightly to her body like an opaque skin. Had it not been for her camisole underneath, her figure would have been visible. Phillip then shot a glance back at the cake, spotting her faint impression in the syrup that was being gradually consumed by the goo. He tisked and turned back to her, lifting her to meet his eyeline,
“Look at you…” he said in a low murmur.
She didn’t know if he was speaking to her or at her; there was a far-off look in his expression as he spoke, as if his mind were elsewhere. A growing uneasiness welled in her stomach as she watched his expression change again. He leering was uncharacteristic, but one she was all-too-familiar with: behind his grey eyes was a primal desire, sharp and intense like a beast. He had assured her that Beans didn’t eat Borrowers, but this was the first time she was covered in food in front of a hungry one. Adelly began to tremble, her hands reflexively trying to grip his digits, but slipped, her own fingers dripping with buttery syrup. Yet while she was fearful, terrified, helplessly hanging in his pinch, there was something…thrilling about his undivided attention.
“Ph-Phillip…?” she stuttered shakily, the first in a long time since they had met.
A pensive look returned to his face and eased his countenance. Adelly squeaked in surprise as he returned some distance between them again, pulling her away from his face, but keeping her dangling between his fingers. She felt his thumb carefully roll small circles into her ribs. Her cheeks flushed a hot red as he brushed the side and base her breast, kneading her soaked clothes into the soft mound. The syrup grew thicker, squelching thickly beneath his thumb; a visceral sound that was both shocking and arousing in its semblance to something more sensual. She couldn’t tell if he intended to fondle her or if he was trying to maintain his grip on her. She wondered if he could also hear it. But he stopped, cleared his throat and took in a deep breath,
“I’ll draw a bath for you so the sugar doesn’t set,” he said stiffly, with a hint of disappointment.
“W-Wait!” Adelly cried out.
Intentional or not, Phillip’s fondling alighted her simple crush to a burning desire. Taboos be damned! She wasn’t entirely sure that the bubbling desire was shared by the both of them, but she was certain about her own feelings: she wanted to explore the nervous excitement that had planted itself in her stomach, while the dull ache between her legs pointed to the ideal direction and conclusion. And it was clear that she wouldn’t know if Phillip felt the same if she didn’t suggest something.
“Maybe…maybe there are…other ways,” she continued sheepishly, her eyes downcast, “That you could…um, help?”
Phillip paused for a moment as if unsure that he had heard her correctly. Then a small, intrigued smile tugged at the corners of his lips, “Oh?”
He shifted his hand with a careful turn of his wrist which allowed his fingers to drop her into his palm. Though she was familiar with the manoeuver, she was still shaken by the compound of nerves, and her legs gave way. It was difficult to compose herself with the added pressure of having to respond to Phillip’s building curiosity. How they would progress was a quandary, but maybe one that they could figure out by simply doing.
Adelly looked up to his looming face, his eyes bearing down like silvery limelights, waiting for their cue. She cast her eyes back down and with a deep breath in through her nose, she stood up nervously and began to unbutton her blouse: her cuffs first, then her collar and down the front. She then untucked her blouse, pulling the bottom out from her skirt’s waistband and revealed her camisole beneath. The syrup had seeped through, staining the slip with a light amber. Taking her lapel, she peeled her blouse away, sliding it off her arms so it landed at her feet. She could feel the warmth of Phillip’s breath lapping pleasantly at her skin like a warm breeze. Adelly looked up again: he seemed unmoved by her display, a calm stillness in his expression, but his eyes defied his silent stoicism as they darted across her body as if reading words harshly printed on her skin. She crossed a hand over the opposite shoulder, coyly beckoning him to take his turn now.
As if anticipating the lightly spiced sweetness in his mouth, Phillip delicately traced his tongue along the slightly opened part of his lips. His teeth glittered wetly behind them as he lifted her closer. He slowly closed the distance between them until his mouth filled the entirety of her periphery. He hovered just beside her turned cheek and a burst of hot humid air blew against her as he spoke,
“Are you sure you want my help?” he rumbled, his low voice resonating through her bones like a tremor, threatening to shatter her from the inside.
His colossal face was close enough for her to reach out and touch him. Every little stump of hair was visible, bordering his mouth to lightly shade his skin from beneath, desperate to breach the surface by the day’s end. His pillowy lips were slightly parted in anticipation, revealing a row of great ivory teeth peeking between the plush pink curtains.
She initially nodded in response, but at such close proximity, located directly under his nose, she realised that he wouldn’t see her. Thus, she placed her hands on his bottom lip, leaned herself forward and planted a kiss at the base of his cupid’s bow. She felt him tense on contact, but she held fast, and kissed him again, slightly offset from the last. Humid air blew hotly over her upper half as Phillip sighed, releasing the breath he had held from the tense seconds passed.
Though Adelly pulled away to straighten herself, she was reunited with the soft skin of Phillip’s lips as he planted a kiss in return on her face. It seemed clumsy, awkward, being the first attempt at intimately connecting features that were a tiny fraction of what he would normally expect; like pecking a single spot on a flower petal. But Adelly nuzzled into him, happily accepting the sumptuous embrace that enveloped her. He released her and planted another kiss: lower, atop her chest. She gasped softly as her head lightened with tingling bliss. He released her again and straightened up, looking down on her with a grin,
“Hold still now,” he commanded, like a warning.
