Desire
SERIES: Sanctuary
Words: 816, Complete
DESCRIPTION: Fill-In scenes (sort of) for Revelations. John/Helen pairing.
SPOILERS: All Season One
WARNINGS: Adult
*sigh* You've been warned....
I didn't mean for this to go full-adult, but it ended up sorta having to or it wouldn't really work. It's not, while requiring the adult warning, PWP or very smutty smut, yet it's enough to require the warning. Meaning it's unlikely to satisfy anyone.
Except me.
*hangs head in shame*
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She hadn’t expected this. If she’d imagined encountering him again, after Rome, it had never included this.
This awareness.
The rhythm of his footfalls alone had announced his approach even before her manservant had ushered him in to her. The musky smell of him, unaltered even after so many years, preceded him and, unprotected this time by adrenaline and the need to fight, she’d been unprepared for her own immediate reaction to his mere presence.
But before she looked up to see him standing before her desk, Helen had regained her equilibrium, bringing her mind to bear on unruly flesh, forcing remembrance of all the reasons she must not respond to him. So she didn’t note how his eyes were even clearer grey than she’d remembered, the intelligence gazing back at her sharper and more intense than she’d have thought possible. The slightly self-mocking smile which tugged at one corner of his lip wasn’t quite enough to leave her breathless, and the memory of kissing that mouth, the taste and feel of him filling her senses, hardly caused her heart to skip a single beat.
As he explained his reason for coming to their assistance, she had no difficulty forgetting how good it had felt when the long graceful fingers which gripped the sample case had held and caressed her. Or how his voice, so low and deep, had once resonated with love instead of concern for the world at large.
Because she never let herself forget what he was - what he had become. She couldn’t afford to forget. And so she noticed none of it. She didn’t feel any of it. She was safe.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
She rose up slowly from the depth of sleep, sensing his presence even before she felt his hand on her hip, the warmth of his chest at her back. Still half asleep, she responded instinctively, some part of her needing the contact after all she’d been through. The death of James, the loss - though she refused to believe it to be anything but temporary - of Ashley, had all left her in need of something she couldn’t have defined until that moment. The moment she’d woken to find John in the bed next to her.
She shifted, moving towards him, closing the small gap between their bodies. His hand slid forward, finding and cupping her breast, caressing through the smooth silk of the camisole she’d worn to bed. Her nipple hardened at his touch and she arched against him. Needing more, she rolled around to face him.
John was naked. And ready. She could feel him pressing into her hip, and she reached down to hold him, her thumb stroking along his length. Groaning, he slipped his hand between her legs, fingers caressing and probing, finding her as ready as he. He pushed her backwards onto the bed, following himself, parting her legs with his thighs as he positioned himself over her.
His eyes locked on hers and, lost in their depths, she hardly noticed him move as he thrust forward into her. Her body stretched to take him, and the pain and the pleasure of it, of finally having him again, inside her, filling her, undid her completely. Her head fell back onto the pillow and she might have screamed save his mouth crashed into hers and any sounds she made were lost in him and…
Helen woke up.
Alone in her bed.
As her breathing returned to normal and her heartbeat slowed, awareness returned. It had been ages since she’d slept so soundly, or dreamed so deeply. Ever since…
Ages.
And she hadn’t even intended to sleep. Tomorrow was sure to be hectic and she’d simply thought to catch a few minutes of the sort of fitful sleep she’d become accustomed to before starting the day. Yet somehow sleep had found her and brought with it a dream so vivid she could still smell him in the air.
In her room.
She sniffed the air again.
She was fully awake now. And still she smelled him. Helen glanced around the room, to the darker shadows furthest from the moonlight streaming through the window. To the one shadow in particular darker than the others.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she observed. But she found herself unable to put any true recrimination into her tone.
“I know. But there was no where else I could bear to be.”
The desperate need in his voice, though he tried to hide it, nearly broke her heart. “It’s alright,” she decided. “You can stay. Though you should try to get sleep, too.”
“I don’t sleep.”
“Me neither, generally. But I think I’m going to try to get some more now, if I can.”
“I won’t disturb you,” he promised gently.
“I know.” And lying back down, she rolled over onto her side and was soon fast asleep. Only this time, she didn’t dream.
Words: 816, Complete
DESCRIPTION: Fill-In scenes (sort of) for Revelations. John/Helen pairing.
SPOILERS: All Season One
WARNINGS: Adult
*sigh* You've been warned....
I didn't mean for this to go full-adult, but it ended up sorta having to or it wouldn't really work. It's not, while requiring the adult warning, PWP or very smutty smut, yet it's enough to require the warning. Meaning it's unlikely to satisfy anyone.
Except me.
*hangs head in shame*
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
She hadn’t expected this. If she’d imagined encountering him again, after Rome, it had never included this.
This awareness.
The rhythm of his footfalls alone had announced his approach even before her manservant had ushered him in to her. The musky smell of him, unaltered even after so many years, preceded him and, unprotected this time by adrenaline and the need to fight, she’d been unprepared for her own immediate reaction to his mere presence.
But before she looked up to see him standing before her desk, Helen had regained her equilibrium, bringing her mind to bear on unruly flesh, forcing remembrance of all the reasons she must not respond to him. So she didn’t note how his eyes were even clearer grey than she’d remembered, the intelligence gazing back at her sharper and more intense than she’d have thought possible. The slightly self-mocking smile which tugged at one corner of his lip wasn’t quite enough to leave her breathless, and the memory of kissing that mouth, the taste and feel of him filling her senses, hardly caused her heart to skip a single beat.
As he explained his reason for coming to their assistance, she had no difficulty forgetting how good it had felt when the long graceful fingers which gripped the sample case had held and caressed her. Or how his voice, so low and deep, had once resonated with love instead of concern for the world at large.
Because she never let herself forget what he was - what he had become. She couldn’t afford to forget. And so she noticed none of it. She didn’t feel any of it. She was safe.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
She rose up slowly from the depth of sleep, sensing his presence even before she felt his hand on her hip, the warmth of his chest at her back. Still half asleep, she responded instinctively, some part of her needing the contact after all she’d been through. The death of James, the loss - though she refused to believe it to be anything but temporary - of Ashley, had all left her in need of something she couldn’t have defined until that moment. The moment she’d woken to find John in the bed next to her.
She shifted, moving towards him, closing the small gap between their bodies. His hand slid forward, finding and cupping her breast, caressing through the smooth silk of the camisole she’d worn to bed. Her nipple hardened at his touch and she arched against him. Needing more, she rolled around to face him.
John was naked. And ready. She could feel him pressing into her hip, and she reached down to hold him, her thumb stroking along his length. Groaning, he slipped his hand between her legs, fingers caressing and probing, finding her as ready as he. He pushed her backwards onto the bed, following himself, parting her legs with his thighs as he positioned himself over her.
His eyes locked on hers and, lost in their depths, she hardly noticed him move as he thrust forward into her. Her body stretched to take him, and the pain and the pleasure of it, of finally having him again, inside her, filling her, undid her completely. Her head fell back onto the pillow and she might have screamed save his mouth crashed into hers and any sounds she made were lost in him and…
Helen woke up.
Alone in her bed.
As her breathing returned to normal and her heartbeat slowed, awareness returned. It had been ages since she’d slept so soundly, or dreamed so deeply. Ever since…
Ages.
And she hadn’t even intended to sleep. Tomorrow was sure to be hectic and she’d simply thought to catch a few minutes of the sort of fitful sleep she’d become accustomed to before starting the day. Yet somehow sleep had found her and brought with it a dream so vivid she could still smell him in the air.
In her room.
She sniffed the air again.
She was fully awake now. And still she smelled him. Helen glanced around the room, to the darker shadows furthest from the moonlight streaming through the window. To the one shadow in particular darker than the others.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she observed. But she found herself unable to put any true recrimination into her tone.
“I know. But there was no where else I could bear to be.”
The desperate need in his voice, though he tried to hide it, nearly broke her heart. “It’s alright,” she decided. “You can stay. Though you should try to get sleep, too.”
“I don’t sleep.”
“Me neither, generally. But I think I’m going to try to get some more now, if I can.”
“I won’t disturb you,” he promised gently.
“I know.” And lying back down, she rolled over onto her side and was soon fast asleep. Only this time, she didn’t dream.