The Voice (Sanctuary Fic)
Show: Sanctuary
Pairing: John and Helen
Rating: R-NC17
Word Count: 4,350
Ok, this is just my imagination about the beginning of the end of John's early life with Helen
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Santuary or it's characters, just playing :)
Warning: Graphic sex and one small cut
The Voice
John lay next to Helen in his bed after a passionate evening of lovemaking. He watched her sleeping, marvelling at her beauty…her soft lips, long dark lashes covering blue eyes that when open, looked into his soul, and her long, luscious, golden hair that he loved to lose his hands in whenever possible. He adored the scent of her hair, the way it felt when he buried his face behind her ear to kiss her. Now, he traced his fingers along the swell of her lovely breast as she lay on her side, curled against him in sleep. He couldn’t fathom the depth of his love for Helen; she owned his heart, his soul, his life. Never had he felt these things for another human being, which frightened him a bit these days. Something had changed in him and he couldn’t identify or understand it. He thought the hot jealousy he felt lately when Helen harmlessly conversed with other men, even their friends, was due to his impossibly growing love for her. Subconsciously, he knew it was more than that, but was so happy with his life at the moment that he refused to give the truth a voice.
The truth was, two weeks prior, after he had teleported himself and Helen to the deserted shores of Scotland’s Gruinard Bay for some much needed time alone, away from their ever present friends, he immediately knew something was terribly wrong. When they arrived at their destination, he was dizzy, nauseous, his head was splitting with pain. Helen hadn’t noticed, as on arrival, had turned from John and happily wandered toward the water, only turning back to him when she realized he hadn’t followed her. She had not noticed the gleam in his blue eyes as he watched her walk away; could not know the only thought in his mind was that he had the overwhelming urge to tear her clothes from her body, have his way and strangle her. That urge was fleeting, however, as John quickly gained control. Tears sprang to his eyes as he was dumbfounded, desperately attempting to understand where such a horrific thought could possibly have sprung. He loved her with his entire being, had never once even fantasized about harming her, taking her against her will, let alone taking her life. Yes, their lovemaking could be intense, but it was always borne from their passion for one another.
“John! Come with me!” Helen called as she held out her hand to him. “I’m considering going completely mad and taking a swim!” she finished as she winked at him and smiled her lovely, patented Helen smile, which never failed to fill John’s heart.
“Yes! Coming Darling!” John called as he pulled his emotions together and started toward her. When he reached her, he pulled her into his arms quickly and kissed her silky lips, forcing her mouth open to his tongue. She was always willing for him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, beneath his long dark coat and hugging him close as she accepted and participated in the deep kiss, sighing softly as John’s hand found her breast and gently squeezed.
Helen suddenly sensed something in John that she couldn’t pinpoint and pulled out of the kiss, placing her hands on either side of John’s face, gazing into his eyes. Something? She wasn’t certain. “John…what is it? Something is wrong.” Helen finally stated, rather than asked.
John smiled at her, replying “No, my love. Nothing is wrong. I’m sorry if I was a bit overly amorous.” he said, laughing. “It’s only that we’ve been practically locked away with Nikola, Nigel and James and I’ve missed being alone with you terribly.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, which Helen turned her head to kiss.
Helen wasn’t quite certain she believed him and this bothered her. She wanted to believe that he would tell her anything, so she let the subject drop for the moment.
“So…about that swim.” she teased, a sparkle in her eye, as she pulled him toward the water’s edge.
“Helen it’s far too cold!” John chuckled, pulling her to the grass and sat down with her beside him. He held her close and stared out on the water as Helen stared at him, wondering.
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The five friends were sitting in the parlour of Helen’s father, discussing their latest project. John sat glaring at Nikola who was flirting with Helen, and she doing nothing to stop it. A voice in his head continued to torment him, “Observe your shameless wench. You realize she has cuckolded you with all of them. How long will you let it stand? She requires a lesson she will not forget.” John shook his head, trying to shake the voice away. He rose suddenly and left the room, heading for the front door. Helen, surprised, quickly followed him as the other men remained, clearly perplexed at John’s behavior.
“John! Don’t leave, please. What happened?” Helen asked as she caught up to John in the foyer, grasping his arm.
“I must take my leave now. I shall see you again tomorrow Love.” John replied, trying to hide the rage and fear building inside him. He leaned down and kissed her quickly on the cheek, pulling his arm from her grasp and walking out the door.
Bewildered, Helen returned to the parlour. “Have any of you noticed how strange John has been acting of late?” she asked her friends.
“Methinks dear John is jealous of the time you spend speaking with anyone but him.” Nikola offered, grinning.
“Don’t be ridiculous Nikola. He knows perfectly well we are just friends.” Helen retorted.
“Do not worry yourself, Helen.” James soothed. “I’m quite sure John would tell us…or you…if there was a serious problem. Let’s have a game shall we?”
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John arrived at his flat covered in blood. He was afraid, ashamed, horrified, and couldn’t remember everything; there were only flashes. A dark alley. A tall, blonde woman he thought looked like a prostitute. A flash of silver against pale skin…then red. So much red. He rushed to the basin of water and desperately tried to wash the blood off of his face, neck and hands. He peeled off his clothes and bunched them along with the bloody towels he had used to clean his skin. After he redressed, he took the bundle and the basin full of bloody water, and left his flat to find a place to dispose of them.
When he returned, he opened the door to find Helen sitting on his bed, waiting for him. In shock, partly because of a guilty conscience and partly because of the ungodly hour, he exclaimed harshly, “Helen! What the devil are you doing here? Tell me you did not walk here alone at this hour! And tell me…what possessed you to leave your house in your nightclothes?” As he said these things he could not believe the manic desire that was rapidly building in him. He was angry with her for putting herself in jeopardy, as the late night streets of London were not exactly a safe place for a woman alone. The anger seemed to be fueling his desire though, and as she rose from the bed, taking off her coat and slinking seductively to reach him at the door, he caught her around her waist and pulled her in.
Helen immediately felt his erection pressing against her as John pulled her into his arms. “I was about to get into bed, but I’d been thinking and worrying about you since you left the house so abruptly earlier today. I needed to see you John, touch you.” she whispered, gazing into his eyes. She caressed his face with her hands and pressed her body against him, whispering again, “I’ve missed you John. I want you inside me tonight.” She found his mouth with her own, slipping her tongue into his as he gave a low moan into her mouth. He laid his hand on her breast and squeezed gently at first, harder as the kiss deepened, feeling her nipple tighten in response. His erection was becoming painfully hard as Helen ran her hand along it’s length, squeezing and stroking through his trousers. He felt the urgent need to take her. The voice whispered, “She acts like a whore. It would be so easy to give me what I want and she would never see it coming.” Ignoring it, John swiftly pulled her undergarments off of her, which she stepped out of as she opened his trousers and took his hardened flesh in her hand.
Helen thought she heard John whisper “I’m sorry”, before he spun her around and moved her toward the cylinder desk, his hands mauling her breasts, pinching the nipples hard until she gasped. He leaned her forward against the closed desk, using his leg to force hers open, one hand running down the front of her body to her pussy, wet and enticing, he stroked her with his middle finger, arousing her more. Her breathing became more rapid, she pushed against him as he stroked her.
John withdrew his fingers from her and pushed his trousers to the floor. He stood close behind her, reaching around again to run his hands over her breasts, holding her tightly to him. “Are you alright my love?” he asked softly in her ear, nuzzling her hair. Her answer was a soft moan and a push of her bottom against his cock, which he then quickly plunged into her pussy from behind. As he thrust in and out her body, feeling her, kissing her bare shoulders, listening to the sounds of pleasure coming from her lips, inhaling deeply the scent of her, he was overwhelmed by his love of her. He rammed into her harder and harder as she urged him on, moaning, pushing against him, one arm above her head and around his neck, holding onto him, the other bracing herself against the desk. His hand slid down between her legs and his finger began massaging her clit, pushing it, causing Helen to buck against him, driving him on. He bit gently into the soft flesh of her shoulder, sucking the skin, savouring the taste of it. He suddenly felt the change inside her, her walls shuddering then squeezing him as she came hard, arching back against him, then leaning forward on the desk as her orgasm waved on. John continued to thrust hard a few more times then, and exploded inside her, moaning loudly into her hair as he gripped her close to him.
John picked Helen up and carried her to his bed where she nestled in his arms, her eyes drifting closed. She was completely sated. He had never driven into her as hard as he had just done, or manhandled her breasts as roughly, and she found that she liked it very much. She felt herself blushing slightly at this, thinking that proper women shouldn’t like rough sex, but then again, she was hardly conventional in any other way either. She turned her face into his chest and fell asleep.
As John lightly caressed her golden hair, he vaguely wondered how he could be here next to a naked, sleeping Helen, so warm and loving, less than three hours after brutally taking another woman’s life. He felt as if it was another man altogether who committed that terrible act, because he was not the type of man who would do it himself. At the moment however, he was so tired and only wanted to think of his Helen, their love and their future.
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A few weeks later, as they were looking through her father’s medical texts in the library, Helen said, “John…I need to talk to you. Will you sit with me?” she gestured toward the sofa.
“Of course. Is something wrong Darling?” John asked warily.
As they sat down beside each other, Helen took John’s hand in hers. She wasn’t certain how to broach the subject so she simply forged ahead. “You’ve not been quite yourself for some time now, John. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. But you seem reluctant to confide in me.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Have you changed your mind about our engagement?” More than anything she wanted him to say no. She could not imagine her life without him. She had given him everything. Her love, her trust, her body and soul.
John seemed shocked by the question, then moved to put his arm around her, holding her close to him. “No, my Love! No, of course I haven’t.” He couldn’t think of an excuse for the behavior she had obviously observed in him, as he thought he had been hiding his difficulties rather well. He took her face in his hands, gazing into her beautiful eyes and continued softly, “Never. Don’t you know you are everything to me? I could not live without you.” He paused, trying to come up with something, then settled back into the sofa, chuckling, “If you really must know, it’s Nikola.” He saw the question in her eyes, the tilt of her head, and continued. “He’s been paying you far too much attention Helen and you know it. He knows very well that we are engaged now, and should act accordingly.” He watched her closely for her reaction, hoping his lie would be enough. He was rewarded.
Helen laughed, a sound John considered the sweetest music. “John, that is ridiculous! He is only being… well…Nikola!” She took his hand again, lightly stroking it with her thumb, and whispered, “He knows he doesn’t stand a chance with me.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, never taking her eyes from his. “Trust me.”
He did trust her. She was the only one he trusted but, he could not share the devil with her. By now he had begun considering the voice his other half. He could not share with Helen that his other half wanted to turn her into his ultimate victim. He kept hoping that he would drive it away on his own somehow. That it’s voice would cease insisting that he harm the most important person in his life, his wonderful Helen.
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They spent the late afternoon strolling through Kensington Garden. Helen frequently glanced up at John, smiling, a promise for later in her bright blue eyes. John felt the overwhelming love and desire for her, but at the same time, couldn’t help but notice that every man they passed seemed to be paying her too much attention. He told himself that it wasn’t real, that the voice in his head was telling him lies, but then he remembered something from earlier in the day. He had spied Helen in deep conversation with James. She had been animated, shaking her head, gesturing with her hands and had walked away finally. John was afraid then, that James had suspected something and was attempting to convince Helen, who seemed to deny all of it. John’s rage had grown through the day, the voice mocking him, something he was barely able to control anymore, but the part of his mind that was still rational had kept the voice in check as best he could.
During supper at their favourite restaurant, John again felt that too much attention was being paid to Helen, and she seemed to be responding to it. He was desperately trying to quiet the voice that was attempting to convince him that Helen was a whore and would bed any of these men, given the chance. Finally, toward the end of their meal, the voice was still, and John breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He knew perfectly well that Helen loved him and only him.
They left the restaurant and walked through the streets of London to John’s flat. They held hands and Helen’s free hand rested lightly on his arm, squeezing gently now and then, the contact soothing to John. Helen was excited to be alone with him, in his bed. Their lovemaking had become even more intense, rougher, which frightened her a little but more than that, aroused her beyond comprehension. She would never want to reveal this side of herself to anyone else, as there was still a part of her that felt that she shouldn’t enjoy as much as she did. Her conversation with James earlier still played at the edges of her mind, but she chose to ignore it, as she had chosen to ignore all the little things that had changed about her lover lately. She refused to believe that John would ever harm anyone, let alone murder several women. If this were true she would know; she would, by now, have irrefutable proof and she did not. She loved John, her fiance, with her entire being. He was the first and only man who had touched her, been inside her, made her shudder and cry out in ecstasy. She was convinced that she would know if the man she shared such intimate moments with was a cold blooded killer.
Once again in John’s home, he quickly pulled Helen to him, lost his hands in her soft hair, pulling out the pins to let it loose, then took her mouth with his, eagerly forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue to meet hers. Helen reached around his back to grasp his shoulders and pressed her body tightly against his. John began fumbling with Helen’s dress, cursing the many layers he had to go through to get to her warm, naked flesh. He needed her badly, wanted her bare to him. Helen also felt the urgency and desire to have John’s naked body fused to her own. She pushed John’s hands away from the buttons of her dress because she could do it more quickly, while John peeled off his own clothes. He then returned his attention to ridding Helen of her corset and undergarments. The minute her breasts were bare, John took one of them in his mouth, groaning, sucking hard. Helen held his head tightly to her and leaned her head back as she savoured the pleasure John’s mouth was inducing. When he began to bite at her nipples and the flesh of her breasts, squeezing the other hard with his hand, Helen’s arousal grew intense. She became lost in John, wanting and needing more, harder, stronger.
John suddenly picked her up off her feet, tossed her on the bed, quickly grabbing her knees and parting them wide, kneeling between her legs, having full access to her body. He traced his hands up the length of her thigh and roughly ran his fingers through her folds, finding her so wet. He smiled an odd smile and thrust two of his long fingers into her opening, making her gasp and arch. John leaned in and kissed the soft pale skin of her belly, her hips, then moved to her neck, tasting with his tongue and nipping with his teeth on his way. He then took her mouth again in a long deep kiss, all the while thrusting his fingers in and out of her body. By the time his mouth was at her breasts again, biting harder, she was squirming under him, arching. She could feel John’s erection against her belly and reached to squeeze it, stroke it.
“John…please,” Helen whispered breathlessly, needing to feel him inside her before he made her come with his fingers as he was so very close to doing. She stroked his cock harder, lifting her hips up toward him, trying to relay her urgency.
He could also wait no longer, as Helen’s hand was stroking him to a hardness he hadn’t thought possible. He swiftly withdrew his fingers from her, and paused to stare at them before putting them in his mouth, momentarily savouring the taste of her. He realized then, that this had awakened the voice. He grasped one of Helen’s legs and placed it on his shoulder, pushed the other to open her wider and plunged his cock into her, deep and fully. He felt the muscles in her legs tighten as he gripped them firmly, and felt her walls close around him as he pulled almost all of the way out of her before ramming hard again, and again.
Helen was shocked at the sudden grasp on her legs as John pulled them wide open, and felt a little pain when he entered her so abruptly, but the shock immediately turned into intense pleasure as he repeatedly slammed his entire shaft in and out of her. She hugged his shoulder with the leg he had placed there, pulling him closer and making it easier for her to lift her hips to him. She arched her back and grabbed the pillow above her head as he sucked and bit at her breasts, pulling at the nipples with his teeth, and she felt the mounting orgasm. Her eyes were closed, she didn’t realize as he thrust deep, that he reached for something on the night table.
John quickened his pace, his mouth latched onto her right breast, pulling at it, sinking his teeth into it as he heard her moaning, growling. He felt her orgasm explode around his cock, gripping it hard and causing him to burst and spill inside her body.
John had stopped moving, his cock still deeply embedded inside her. Helen opened her eyes in time to see a flash of silver at the same time she felt the thin blade make a light cut in the swell of her left breast. Just a small one, but there was blood, and while she tried to process this, too confused and in utter shock to react, John covered the wound with his mouth and licked away the small amount of blood. Finally, she regained her senses and struggled to push him away from her, out of her body, tears of fear in her blue eyes.
John’s eyes also filled with tears at the moment the voice was insisting, “Give me this one, the one I want, and take the heart you love so much!! Now! No more pale imitations! This whore belongs to me!” John’s tears spilled over as Helen struggled mightily to release herself from him, pleading with him to let her go. He tightened his grip on her and drew the knife close to her throat, having so little control left, not wanting to hurt this woman he could not live without.
“John!” Helen screamed. “Dear God No! Please, John, don’t do this…please!” She registered his tears but could only concentrate on the knife at her throat.
A strangled cry came from John as he removed himself from Helen. “I…Will…Not!!” Then in a flash, he was gone.
The absolute truth crashed down on Helen and the tears fell freely. She quickly rose from the bed, put on John’s big topcoat to cover her nakedness, sobbing, “Dear God, no…John…it can’t be.” even knowing now that it could be, and was indeed, a fact. Heart smashed to bits and terrified, Helen left everything else in the flat and ran.
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Over the following weeks Helen became a changed woman. Much less trusting of almost everyone in her life and untrusting of anyone new. She had long conversations with James, Nikola, and Nigel, who attempted to soothe her broken heart, and all faced the fact that their good friend John was indeed London’s infamous Jack the Ripper. Helen believed, and tried to convince them, that it was not the John they knew, but something that had invaded him, that had committed the horrific, murderous acts, and they must help him. She insisted that they not abandon him, but the men would have none of it, and pleaded with her to let him go.
She couldn’t entirely. She still loved him, as insane as that sounded even to her. Not the monster part of John, but the man she met at Oxford, the gentle, loving soul she knew still existed deep inside him. She wanted to help him, cure him, make him whole and hers again. She felt so certain most days that she could accomplish this. She also felt confusion about these feelings, but she wasn’t a fool. She recognized the new feelings mixed with the old, being anger, betrayal and fear. The small wound on her breast had healed, but the scar would always be a reminder. She had begun carrying a weapon of her own and would defend herself against him if it came to that.
They met once more on the dark streets of London. She had been following him, watched him approach his next victim. She stepped out of the shadows and John was able to feel a bit of joy at seeing his beloved’s lovely face again. He had minimal control these days against the monster inside him. It still wanted Helen and tormented John daily. If he didn’t take the whore Molly now, he may not be able to control himself. He lifted the blade to Molly’s throat and he saw Helen raise the gun, demanding that he let the woman go. He could see the emotion in Helen’s eyes and longed for the days when he could simply go to her, embrace her. But this was his chance to let her make a choice with that weapon…to end things for good. He drew the blade through the woman’s throat and felt the bullet slice through his face. As he teleported away almost at the same time the bullet hit him, he couldn’t help but be proud of her.
Helen knew she had wounded John, but hadn’t killed him, and realized she would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She stood still a moment, thinking how she had failed. She had failed herself and John, not recognizing the truth early enough. She had failed the new life she had learned grew within her, and now, Molly. She knelt beside the lifeless woman, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
Pairing: John and Helen
Rating: R-NC17
Word Count: 4,350
Ok, this is just my imagination about the beginning of the end of John's early life with Helen
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Santuary or it's characters, just playing :)
Warning: Graphic sex and one small cut
The Voice
John lay next to Helen in his bed after a passionate evening of lovemaking. He watched her sleeping, marvelling at her beauty…her soft lips, long dark lashes covering blue eyes that when open, looked into his soul, and her long, luscious, golden hair that he loved to lose his hands in whenever possible. He adored the scent of her hair, the way it felt when he buried his face behind her ear to kiss her. Now, he traced his fingers along the swell of her lovely breast as she lay on her side, curled against him in sleep. He couldn’t fathom the depth of his love for Helen; she owned his heart, his soul, his life. Never had he felt these things for another human being, which frightened him a bit these days. Something had changed in him and he couldn’t identify or understand it. He thought the hot jealousy he felt lately when Helen harmlessly conversed with other men, even their friends, was due to his impossibly growing love for her. Subconsciously, he knew it was more than that, but was so happy with his life at the moment that he refused to give the truth a voice.
The truth was, two weeks prior, after he had teleported himself and Helen to the deserted shores of Scotland’s Gruinard Bay for some much needed time alone, away from their ever present friends, he immediately knew something was terribly wrong. When they arrived at their destination, he was dizzy, nauseous, his head was splitting with pain. Helen hadn’t noticed, as on arrival, had turned from John and happily wandered toward the water, only turning back to him when she realized he hadn’t followed her. She had not noticed the gleam in his blue eyes as he watched her walk away; could not know the only thought in his mind was that he had the overwhelming urge to tear her clothes from her body, have his way and strangle her. That urge was fleeting, however, as John quickly gained control. Tears sprang to his eyes as he was dumbfounded, desperately attempting to understand where such a horrific thought could possibly have sprung. He loved her with his entire being, had never once even fantasized about harming her, taking her against her will, let alone taking her life. Yes, their lovemaking could be intense, but it was always borne from their passion for one another.
“John! Come with me!” Helen called as she held out her hand to him. “I’m considering going completely mad and taking a swim!” she finished as she winked at him and smiled her lovely, patented Helen smile, which never failed to fill John’s heart.
“Yes! Coming Darling!” John called as he pulled his emotions together and started toward her. When he reached her, he pulled her into his arms quickly and kissed her silky lips, forcing her mouth open to his tongue. She was always willing for him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, beneath his long dark coat and hugging him close as she accepted and participated in the deep kiss, sighing softly as John’s hand found her breast and gently squeezed.
Helen suddenly sensed something in John that she couldn’t pinpoint and pulled out of the kiss, placing her hands on either side of John’s face, gazing into his eyes. Something? She wasn’t certain. “John…what is it? Something is wrong.” Helen finally stated, rather than asked.
John smiled at her, replying “No, my love. Nothing is wrong. I’m sorry if I was a bit overly amorous.” he said, laughing. “It’s only that we’ve been practically locked away with Nikola, Nigel and James and I’ve missed being alone with you terribly.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, which Helen turned her head to kiss.
Helen wasn’t quite certain she believed him and this bothered her. She wanted to believe that he would tell her anything, so she let the subject drop for the moment.
“So…about that swim.” she teased, a sparkle in her eye, as she pulled him toward the water’s edge.
“Helen it’s far too cold!” John chuckled, pulling her to the grass and sat down with her beside him. He held her close and stared out on the water as Helen stared at him, wondering.
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The five friends were sitting in the parlour of Helen’s father, discussing their latest project. John sat glaring at Nikola who was flirting with Helen, and she doing nothing to stop it. A voice in his head continued to torment him, “Observe your shameless wench. You realize she has cuckolded you with all of them. How long will you let it stand? She requires a lesson she will not forget.” John shook his head, trying to shake the voice away. He rose suddenly and left the room, heading for the front door. Helen, surprised, quickly followed him as the other men remained, clearly perplexed at John’s behavior.
“John! Don’t leave, please. What happened?” Helen asked as she caught up to John in the foyer, grasping his arm.
“I must take my leave now. I shall see you again tomorrow Love.” John replied, trying to hide the rage and fear building inside him. He leaned down and kissed her quickly on the cheek, pulling his arm from her grasp and walking out the door.
Bewildered, Helen returned to the parlour. “Have any of you noticed how strange John has been acting of late?” she asked her friends.
“Methinks dear John is jealous of the time you spend speaking with anyone but him.” Nikola offered, grinning.
“Don’t be ridiculous Nikola. He knows perfectly well we are just friends.” Helen retorted.
“Do not worry yourself, Helen.” James soothed. “I’m quite sure John would tell us…or you…if there was a serious problem. Let’s have a game shall we?”
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John arrived at his flat covered in blood. He was afraid, ashamed, horrified, and couldn’t remember everything; there were only flashes. A dark alley. A tall, blonde woman he thought looked like a prostitute. A flash of silver against pale skin…then red. So much red. He rushed to the basin of water and desperately tried to wash the blood off of his face, neck and hands. He peeled off his clothes and bunched them along with the bloody towels he had used to clean his skin. After he redressed, he took the bundle and the basin full of bloody water, and left his flat to find a place to dispose of them.
When he returned, he opened the door to find Helen sitting on his bed, waiting for him. In shock, partly because of a guilty conscience and partly because of the ungodly hour, he exclaimed harshly, “Helen! What the devil are you doing here? Tell me you did not walk here alone at this hour! And tell me…what possessed you to leave your house in your nightclothes?” As he said these things he could not believe the manic desire that was rapidly building in him. He was angry with her for putting herself in jeopardy, as the late night streets of London were not exactly a safe place for a woman alone. The anger seemed to be fueling his desire though, and as she rose from the bed, taking off her coat and slinking seductively to reach him at the door, he caught her around her waist and pulled her in.
Helen immediately felt his erection pressing against her as John pulled her into his arms. “I was about to get into bed, but I’d been thinking and worrying about you since you left the house so abruptly earlier today. I needed to see you John, touch you.” she whispered, gazing into his eyes. She caressed his face with her hands and pressed her body against him, whispering again, “I’ve missed you John. I want you inside me tonight.” She found his mouth with her own, slipping her tongue into his as he gave a low moan into her mouth. He laid his hand on her breast and squeezed gently at first, harder as the kiss deepened, feeling her nipple tighten in response. His erection was becoming painfully hard as Helen ran her hand along it’s length, squeezing and stroking through his trousers. He felt the urgent need to take her. The voice whispered, “She acts like a whore. It would be so easy to give me what I want and she would never see it coming.” Ignoring it, John swiftly pulled her undergarments off of her, which she stepped out of as she opened his trousers and took his hardened flesh in her hand.
Helen thought she heard John whisper “I’m sorry”, before he spun her around and moved her toward the cylinder desk, his hands mauling her breasts, pinching the nipples hard until she gasped. He leaned her forward against the closed desk, using his leg to force hers open, one hand running down the front of her body to her pussy, wet and enticing, he stroked her with his middle finger, arousing her more. Her breathing became more rapid, she pushed against him as he stroked her.
John withdrew his fingers from her and pushed his trousers to the floor. He stood close behind her, reaching around again to run his hands over her breasts, holding her tightly to him. “Are you alright my love?” he asked softly in her ear, nuzzling her hair. Her answer was a soft moan and a push of her bottom against his cock, which he then quickly plunged into her pussy from behind. As he thrust in and out her body, feeling her, kissing her bare shoulders, listening to the sounds of pleasure coming from her lips, inhaling deeply the scent of her, he was overwhelmed by his love of her. He rammed into her harder and harder as she urged him on, moaning, pushing against him, one arm above her head and around his neck, holding onto him, the other bracing herself against the desk. His hand slid down between her legs and his finger began massaging her clit, pushing it, causing Helen to buck against him, driving him on. He bit gently into the soft flesh of her shoulder, sucking the skin, savouring the taste of it. He suddenly felt the change inside her, her walls shuddering then squeezing him as she came hard, arching back against him, then leaning forward on the desk as her orgasm waved on. John continued to thrust hard a few more times then, and exploded inside her, moaning loudly into her hair as he gripped her close to him.
John picked Helen up and carried her to his bed where she nestled in his arms, her eyes drifting closed. She was completely sated. He had never driven into her as hard as he had just done, or manhandled her breasts as roughly, and she found that she liked it very much. She felt herself blushing slightly at this, thinking that proper women shouldn’t like rough sex, but then again, she was hardly conventional in any other way either. She turned her face into his chest and fell asleep.
As John lightly caressed her golden hair, he vaguely wondered how he could be here next to a naked, sleeping Helen, so warm and loving, less than three hours after brutally taking another woman’s life. He felt as if it was another man altogether who committed that terrible act, because he was not the type of man who would do it himself. At the moment however, he was so tired and only wanted to think of his Helen, their love and their future.
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A few weeks later, as they were looking through her father’s medical texts in the library, Helen said, “John…I need to talk to you. Will you sit with me?” she gestured toward the sofa.
“Of course. Is something wrong Darling?” John asked warily.
As they sat down beside each other, Helen took John’s hand in hers. She wasn’t certain how to broach the subject so she simply forged ahead. “You’ve not been quite yourself for some time now, John. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. But you seem reluctant to confide in me.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Have you changed your mind about our engagement?” More than anything she wanted him to say no. She could not imagine her life without him. She had given him everything. Her love, her trust, her body and soul.
John seemed shocked by the question, then moved to put his arm around her, holding her close to him. “No, my Love! No, of course I haven’t.” He couldn’t think of an excuse for the behavior she had obviously observed in him, as he thought he had been hiding his difficulties rather well. He took her face in his hands, gazing into her beautiful eyes and continued softly, “Never. Don’t you know you are everything to me? I could not live without you.” He paused, trying to come up with something, then settled back into the sofa, chuckling, “If you really must know, it’s Nikola.” He saw the question in her eyes, the tilt of her head, and continued. “He’s been paying you far too much attention Helen and you know it. He knows very well that we are engaged now, and should act accordingly.” He watched her closely for her reaction, hoping his lie would be enough. He was rewarded.
Helen laughed, a sound John considered the sweetest music. “John, that is ridiculous! He is only being… well…Nikola!” She took his hand again, lightly stroking it with her thumb, and whispered, “He knows he doesn’t stand a chance with me.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, never taking her eyes from his. “Trust me.”
He did trust her. She was the only one he trusted but, he could not share the devil with her. By now he had begun considering the voice his other half. He could not share with Helen that his other half wanted to turn her into his ultimate victim. He kept hoping that he would drive it away on his own somehow. That it’s voice would cease insisting that he harm the most important person in his life, his wonderful Helen.
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They spent the late afternoon strolling through Kensington Garden. Helen frequently glanced up at John, smiling, a promise for later in her bright blue eyes. John felt the overwhelming love and desire for her, but at the same time, couldn’t help but notice that every man they passed seemed to be paying her too much attention. He told himself that it wasn’t real, that the voice in his head was telling him lies, but then he remembered something from earlier in the day. He had spied Helen in deep conversation with James. She had been animated, shaking her head, gesturing with her hands and had walked away finally. John was afraid then, that James had suspected something and was attempting to convince Helen, who seemed to deny all of it. John’s rage had grown through the day, the voice mocking him, something he was barely able to control anymore, but the part of his mind that was still rational had kept the voice in check as best he could.
During supper at their favourite restaurant, John again felt that too much attention was being paid to Helen, and she seemed to be responding to it. He was desperately trying to quiet the voice that was attempting to convince him that Helen was a whore and would bed any of these men, given the chance. Finally, toward the end of their meal, the voice was still, and John breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He knew perfectly well that Helen loved him and only him.
They left the restaurant and walked through the streets of London to John’s flat. They held hands and Helen’s free hand rested lightly on his arm, squeezing gently now and then, the contact soothing to John. Helen was excited to be alone with him, in his bed. Their lovemaking had become even more intense, rougher, which frightened her a little but more than that, aroused her beyond comprehension. She would never want to reveal this side of herself to anyone else, as there was still a part of her that felt that she shouldn’t enjoy as much as she did. Her conversation with James earlier still played at the edges of her mind, but she chose to ignore it, as she had chosen to ignore all the little things that had changed about her lover lately. She refused to believe that John would ever harm anyone, let alone murder several women. If this were true she would know; she would, by now, have irrefutable proof and she did not. She loved John, her fiance, with her entire being. He was the first and only man who had touched her, been inside her, made her shudder and cry out in ecstasy. She was convinced that she would know if the man she shared such intimate moments with was a cold blooded killer.
Once again in John’s home, he quickly pulled Helen to him, lost his hands in her soft hair, pulling out the pins to let it loose, then took her mouth with his, eagerly forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue to meet hers. Helen reached around his back to grasp his shoulders and pressed her body tightly against his. John began fumbling with Helen’s dress, cursing the many layers he had to go through to get to her warm, naked flesh. He needed her badly, wanted her bare to him. Helen also felt the urgency and desire to have John’s naked body fused to her own. She pushed John’s hands away from the buttons of her dress because she could do it more quickly, while John peeled off his own clothes. He then returned his attention to ridding Helen of her corset and undergarments. The minute her breasts were bare, John took one of them in his mouth, groaning, sucking hard. Helen held his head tightly to her and leaned her head back as she savoured the pleasure John’s mouth was inducing. When he began to bite at her nipples and the flesh of her breasts, squeezing the other hard with his hand, Helen’s arousal grew intense. She became lost in John, wanting and needing more, harder, stronger.
John suddenly picked her up off her feet, tossed her on the bed, quickly grabbing her knees and parting them wide, kneeling between her legs, having full access to her body. He traced his hands up the length of her thigh and roughly ran his fingers through her folds, finding her so wet. He smiled an odd smile and thrust two of his long fingers into her opening, making her gasp and arch. John leaned in and kissed the soft pale skin of her belly, her hips, then moved to her neck, tasting with his tongue and nipping with his teeth on his way. He then took her mouth again in a long deep kiss, all the while thrusting his fingers in and out of her body. By the time his mouth was at her breasts again, biting harder, she was squirming under him, arching. She could feel John’s erection against her belly and reached to squeeze it, stroke it.
“John…please,” Helen whispered breathlessly, needing to feel him inside her before he made her come with his fingers as he was so very close to doing. She stroked his cock harder, lifting her hips up toward him, trying to relay her urgency.
He could also wait no longer, as Helen’s hand was stroking him to a hardness he hadn’t thought possible. He swiftly withdrew his fingers from her, and paused to stare at them before putting them in his mouth, momentarily savouring the taste of her. He realized then, that this had awakened the voice. He grasped one of Helen’s legs and placed it on his shoulder, pushed the other to open her wider and plunged his cock into her, deep and fully. He felt the muscles in her legs tighten as he gripped them firmly, and felt her walls close around him as he pulled almost all of the way out of her before ramming hard again, and again.
Helen was shocked at the sudden grasp on her legs as John pulled them wide open, and felt a little pain when he entered her so abruptly, but the shock immediately turned into intense pleasure as he repeatedly slammed his entire shaft in and out of her. She hugged his shoulder with the leg he had placed there, pulling him closer and making it easier for her to lift her hips to him. She arched her back and grabbed the pillow above her head as he sucked and bit at her breasts, pulling at the nipples with his teeth, and she felt the mounting orgasm. Her eyes were closed, she didn’t realize as he thrust deep, that he reached for something on the night table.
John quickened his pace, his mouth latched onto her right breast, pulling at it, sinking his teeth into it as he heard her moaning, growling. He felt her orgasm explode around his cock, gripping it hard and causing him to burst and spill inside her body.
John had stopped moving, his cock still deeply embedded inside her. Helen opened her eyes in time to see a flash of silver at the same time she felt the thin blade make a light cut in the swell of her left breast. Just a small one, but there was blood, and while she tried to process this, too confused and in utter shock to react, John covered the wound with his mouth and licked away the small amount of blood. Finally, she regained her senses and struggled to push him away from her, out of her body, tears of fear in her blue eyes.
John’s eyes also filled with tears at the moment the voice was insisting, “Give me this one, the one I want, and take the heart you love so much!! Now! No more pale imitations! This whore belongs to me!” John’s tears spilled over as Helen struggled mightily to release herself from him, pleading with him to let her go. He tightened his grip on her and drew the knife close to her throat, having so little control left, not wanting to hurt this woman he could not live without.
“John!” Helen screamed. “Dear God No! Please, John, don’t do this…please!” She registered his tears but could only concentrate on the knife at her throat.
A strangled cry came from John as he removed himself from Helen. “I…Will…Not!!” Then in a flash, he was gone.
The absolute truth crashed down on Helen and the tears fell freely. She quickly rose from the bed, put on John’s big topcoat to cover her nakedness, sobbing, “Dear God, no…John…it can’t be.” even knowing now that it could be, and was indeed, a fact. Heart smashed to bits and terrified, Helen left everything else in the flat and ran.
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Over the following weeks Helen became a changed woman. Much less trusting of almost everyone in her life and untrusting of anyone new. She had long conversations with James, Nikola, and Nigel, who attempted to soothe her broken heart, and all faced the fact that their good friend John was indeed London’s infamous Jack the Ripper. Helen believed, and tried to convince them, that it was not the John they knew, but something that had invaded him, that had committed the horrific, murderous acts, and they must help him. She insisted that they not abandon him, but the men would have none of it, and pleaded with her to let him go.
She couldn’t entirely. She still loved him, as insane as that sounded even to her. Not the monster part of John, but the man she met at Oxford, the gentle, loving soul she knew still existed deep inside him. She wanted to help him, cure him, make him whole and hers again. She felt so certain most days that she could accomplish this. She also felt confusion about these feelings, but she wasn’t a fool. She recognized the new feelings mixed with the old, being anger, betrayal and fear. The small wound on her breast had healed, but the scar would always be a reminder. She had begun carrying a weapon of her own and would defend herself against him if it came to that.
They met once more on the dark streets of London. She had been following him, watched him approach his next victim. She stepped out of the shadows and John was able to feel a bit of joy at seeing his beloved’s lovely face again. He had minimal control these days against the monster inside him. It still wanted Helen and tormented John daily. If he didn’t take the whore Molly now, he may not be able to control himself. He lifted the blade to Molly’s throat and he saw Helen raise the gun, demanding that he let the woman go. He could see the emotion in Helen’s eyes and longed for the days when he could simply go to her, embrace her. But this was his chance to let her make a choice with that weapon…to end things for good. He drew the blade through the woman’s throat and felt the bullet slice through his face. As he teleported away almost at the same time the bullet hit him, he couldn’t help but be proud of her.
Helen knew she had wounded John, but hadn’t killed him, and realized she would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She stood still a moment, thinking how she had failed. She had failed herself and John, not recognizing the truth early enough. She had failed the new life she had learned grew within her, and now, Molly. She knelt beside the lifeless woman, whispering, “I’m sorry.”