Catacomb Christmas (Sanctuary Fic)
Title: Catacomb Christmas
Author: ladydeadlock001
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters: John and Helen
Warnings: Sex
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Sanctuary or it's characters, just playing ;)
Summary: Magnus discovers a surprise while walking through the catacombs
Word Count: 2,267
Catacomb Christmas
Christmas Day at the Sanctuary and the atmosphere was festive. The enormous tree in the foyer sparkled with light and the scent of the pine was intoxicating. Guests from other Sanctuaries, whether they celebrated the holiday or not, milled about, visiting, imbibing in the excellent selection of spirits that Magnus had personally chosen for the occasion. She looked lovely in a silky white, sleeveless dress, cut just above the knee that showed off her considerable assets; her dark hair was down about her shoulders in soft waves. As always, she was the gracious host, smiling, making sure everyone had what they needed. Unfortunately, what they needed, or rather craved, was time with her. Normally she would have been happy to spend as much time with each of her guests as they required, but today all she could think about was John. As various people chatted at her, she responded politely, but most of her mind was focused on the last time she saw him.
He had saved her and her Sanctuary from the energy being by taking it into his body again, to his detriment. He would not let her help him and had disappeared without a hint of where he would go. All she could think about since, was that he had declared his love for her before sacrificing himself. She felt a sense of sorrow that she had not replied with a declaration of her own, but the moment had been difficult. She hadn’t time to process the fact that without the creature in control of him, John could have been hers again, that she wouldn’t have to be afraid or on constant guard around him. All of his past crimes were still fresh in her mind at the time as well, and she simply could not speak the words that so desperately wanted to be voiced. He had said he loved her, “for all eternity”… the words he had spoken the very first time he told her he loved her over a century ago.
Tears began welling in her pretty blue eyes and she excused herself from the growing group of people around her. “I’ll be back in a bit, I promise. I must see if dinner is progressing, or if we‘ll have to send out for something.” she said smiling, and winked at her guests as she turned to go, leaving laughter in her wake.
She only wanted to be alone with her thoughts of John for a while. In the kitchen, after checking on dinner, she poured an eggnog, added a healthy dose of brandy and wandered off to walk the private, more peaceful areas of the Sanctuary.
Helen was drawn toward the catacombs that she had built under the Sanctuary. Not tombs and crypts, but a series of tunnels and secret, cave-like rooms that would serve as protection and a place to hide her people if need be. She hadn’t been down there in a long while and wondered why she ended up there now. “Because no one else is about and they wouldn’t think to look for me here.” she thought. It smelled musty and damp, but she smelled a hint of something else. Smoke? She stealthily sought out the source through twists and turns of the catacombs that she had mapped out in her mind a long time ago. She was well aware that she was without a weapon of any sort, and momentarily considered going back to one of the rooms that held a cache, but decided against it, going with her instinct that she was not in any danger.
She slowed as she came to the room that seemed to be the source of the smell. There was soft light coming from it, from some sort of controlled fire she guessed, and most of the smoke was being vented somehow. She peered into the room and saw an old wood stove that had been stored at some point, although she couldn’t remember when. It was old, but obviously still functioned. There were blankets and pillows laid out on the floor, foodstuffs and water against one rough wall. Feeling the tingling that told her she really should have retrieved a weapon of some sort, she backed away from the room and straight into the mysterious squatter. She wheeled about, dropping her drink and almost stumbled off her heels to face him.
“Dear God! John!” she cried out in surprise.
John held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, his eyes soft, taking her in. “Hello Helen. What in God’s name are you doing down here?”
“What am I…?” she looked around, back into the room, then back at him with wide eyes. “Have you been living here? How long?”
“Not long.” John strode past Helen into the room. “You should be aware you’re boy Henry shuts down your field more often than he should for maintenance.”
Helen rolled her eyes in acknowledgement and turned to follow him into the room. “Apparently. John…what are you doing here?” she asked softly, watching him closely. She wasn’t sure just yet which John she had here. He seemed placid but she could never be certain. One thing she was certain of though, is that she was very happy to see him alive. When he had said that he had no destination in mind the last time he left her, she had been afraid for him and now, here he was again, seemingly in control.
“It’s Christmas, Helen. I felt the need to be near you, if not with you.” he stated simply, settling himself on blankets near the warm stove. He gestured to her, “Come, sit with me for a while where it’s warm. I can see you’re gooseflesh from here.” He did not mention which other bumps he had noticed and could barely keep from staring at, although he tried.
His simple statement that he wanted to be near her, and realizing that he had not intended to contact her directly at all, brought fresh tears to her eyes. She blinked them away, and suddenly feeling the chill, took him up on his offer to warm up next to him and just be near him again.
“I’ve been reminiscing the last few days, and drowning in self pity.” John chuckled softly. “Do you remember our first Christmas Eve together?” The memory was so clear in his mind; that night long ago, the Christmas tree the only light aside from the fire. The softness of the rug underneath their naked bodies, warmed by the fireplace.
She turned to face him, fixing her brilliant blue eyes, awash with tears again, on his. “I do. Our first time together, naughty as we were.” she joked half heartedly. “Things seemed so much simpler then. Sometimes I wish we could go back, as silly as that may sound.” she finished softly.
“You will never guess what I found in one of these rooms. Some of your…mementos…shall we say?” He fished something out of the pocket of his pants and handed it to her. “Frankly, I’m surprised it remained in your possession.” He smiled, his eyes shining as she took it from him.
“Oh, John.” she whispered, the tears now spilling freely down her soft cheeks, as she gazed at the delicate gold bracelet with the symbol for eternity etched into it, that he had given her that Christmas. She had simply been sad earlier this evening, but was now overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of the symbol that represented their love.
John reached out and gently held her face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears away. She looked up from the bracelet into his face and leaned in to kiss him. Maybe she had too much alcohol tonight, was simply overemotional, but she’d missed him, his voice, the scent of him, his physical presence; she would not ignore the moment this time. His hands threaded through her thick, dark hair, holding her to him as he responded and deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking hers.
He hadn’t planned this, but he would take advantage of the situation, because he wanted nothing more than to touch her, lose himself in her again. His regret at losing her was his constant companion and if for a moment he could have her again, then he would. He lowered his hands to her shoulders, tracing her jaw and the lines of her graceful neck along the way, and slowly pulled the straps of her dress down her arms. “My cheeky Helen.” he thought, grinning as he realized that a bra was nowhere to be found.
Her breasts now bare to him, she took his hands and planted them firmly on each one and he obediently kneaded them gently, feeling her nipples hardening under his palms. He broke away from her mouth, kissed the top of each firm mound as his hands slid up her thighs under the hem of her dress. Simultaneously, she opened the snap and zipper of his pants and caught his rapidly hardening erection in her hand, strongly stroking the long length of it. She bent down and kissed the head of his cock with an open mouth and was about to take it into her mouth when he pulled her up.
“Later, Love.” he said a little breathlessly. “First, I want you.” He pushed her back on the pillows and slid her dress up over her hips, taking the hose and ripping them easily. He watched her face, the smile on her lips, as he removed them along with her pretty lace thong. He caressed her inner thighs as he opened her legs and knelt between them, leaning down to kiss the already glistening lips. Not wasting time because of his hunger for her, he licked deep into the folds of her pussy, the still familiar taste and scent of her invading his senses as she bucked under him at the suddeness of his action, her gasp melding into a soft moan. He grasped under her hips, lifting her to his mouth, sliding his tongue to her clit, flicking it, then teasing her opening, making her squirm as her respiration deepened and quickened.
She caressed his head, digging her nails into it, growling, as he brought her just short of coming then backed away. In anticipation, she watched as he stripped the clothes from his lean, firm body, his erection impossibly hard and as big as she remembered. She reached out for him, welcoming him back between her legs, grasping his length in her hand and guiding it into her as he stretched out over her. He took her mouth with his as he slowly, inch by inch, filled her, stretching her to accommodate him, feeling the ever growing slickness around his cock. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him to her as he began moving in and out of her slowly, taking his time, pulling almost completely out before pushing his entire length back in.
Helen believed she may go mad from the intense pleasure of having John inside her again, his warm mouth now sucking her breast, pulling her nipple, nipping it then taking as much back into his mouth as he could. She couldn’t stop herself from arching toward him, silently pleading for more of his mouth. She grasped his butt in her hands, wrapped her long legs around him, meeting him thrust for slow thrust, urging him to quicken his pace, needing him to take her harder. Her orgasm was building and building, threatening to be a monster and she wanted to release it.
She couldn’t stay silent and growled as she panted, “John, please…harder!”
He complied willingly, pleased that Helen still preferred things a bit rougher. His strokes became faster, much harder, their bodies slamming together when he thrust his cock back into her pussy. His mouth turned to her other breast, sucking it roughly, using his teeth to leave his mark there. He was rewarded with her moans, the arching of her back, her nails digging deep into the skin of his own. His hands moved under her bare shoulders, holding her steady, savouring the feel of her sweat slicked breasts gliding over his chest as he plunged in and out of her very wet center.
She could barely breathe as she reached her peak, every bit of John’s body that touched her intensifying the pleasure, and she felt her release igniting her body on fire. She bucked and quivered helplessly underneath him, gasping his name, tightening her legs around him, hugging him closer to her as she felt him explode inside of her. His face was buried between her breasts, his teeth lightly sinking into one of them as he came.
He pulled out of her, both of them still catching their breath, and reached for a blanket to lay over them. He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight to him, not wanting to let her go. He knew this moment couldn’t last forever, but he would enjoy the warmth of her body as long as she allowed. They lay tangled together for a while, talking about the old London days, laughing at times. Then John thought of the way Helen was dressed when she found him.
“I’m assuming you have guests upstairs.” he chuckled.
Helen laughed, “I’d completely forgotten them! I‘m horrible!”
“And what will they think when you return so late…or not at all?”
“I really don’t care.” she whispered, as she turned her body to him, kissing his lips, ready for another go.