New Sanctuary Fic: "Not On the Agenda"
So, now that the authors have been revealed for sanctuary_santa I can post here.:)
And while I'm at it let me throw out a big rec for the fic written for meeeeee by somehowunbroken - Family Portrait. Beautiful Helen/John/Ashley angst. Squee!
DISCLAIMER: All belongs to Damien Kindler and Stage 3 Media and Ms. Tapping and all the usual suspects who aren't me. Just borrowing these beautiful people. Thanks for the favor.:)
TITLE: Not On the Agenda
RATING: Mature
CATEGORIES: Helen/Nikola, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
TIMELINE: Takes place between "Acolyte" and "The Depths"
Beta love to helenhighwater7 and choraii!
Written in the sanctuary_santa challenge for m_ravensblood.
Not On the Agenda
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2011
In the gut-gnawing stillness of the wait, Nikola fixated on the blood-purple tint to Helen's crimson nail polish, miscast by the antiquated mercury vapor lamps. Her fingers rested on the steering wheel, nails tapping out a restless pattern.
Their part of the mission was hardly necessary. They were little more than back-up. But Helen had been edgy, lately. Over-protective, even. Nikola had known her long enough to piece together the reasons. Henry was out in the field a good deal more these days, and Nikola knew this was eating away at her. She had a soft spot for the little runt. Truth be told, Nikola was quite fond of him as well. He was useful. And properly admiring. Her Sasquatch had given them all a good scare. Adam Worth -- or the bits and bytes shadow of him -- had shaken Helen more than she had even come close to admitting. Her little thrift store waif had nearly died despite Helen's skillful efforts to heal. Nikola liked to think his own precarious position between sides of the encroaching war was a worry to her as well, however unfounded.
And then Johnny...
Helen looked at her watch for the five hundredth time. "They should be out by now," she said, purple nails digging into the leather of the steering wheel cover.
Nikola gave an exaggerated sigh and sank deeper into the passenger seat of the luxury sedan. How many cars did Helen own these days? He began a mental tally. He thought about the open-top in Vienna. "They're not late," he said simply. "They won't be late for another half an hour. Or more. We timed it out, remember?"
He caught the irritated twitch of Helen's cheek muscles, but she kept her gaze locked on the distant warehouse door.
Nikola dropped his head against the seat and rolled his neck to face Helen. "Oh, come on....at least get in the spirit of the stakeout. Can't we do something fun? Twenty questions? Shakespeare trivia? Truth or dare?"
"How about we actually watch the warehouse like we're supposed to?"
"You can't watch and talk at the same time? What kind of genius are you?"
She clicked her tongue and gave a quick shake of her head. "Not your kind, certainly."
Nikola shifted a bit closer in his seat and flashed her a brilliant smile. "Oh, on the contrary, my dear Dr. Magnus. You are exactly my kind."
Helen only closed her eyes and gave a slow exhale. She returned her focus to the warehouse.
He was getting on her nerves. He knew that. He had been hovering for a while, now. He had shown up in Old City when wind of the Buenos Aires explosion hit the fan. He had found Helen in her lab, between surgeries on Kate, and going on two days without sleep.
His stomach had uncinched a bit the moment he had her back in his own line of sight -- alive and annoyed.
"Nikola!"
He swore for a moment there was a flash of gratitude in her eyes when he appeared in the doorway. Quickly replaced by a distant annoyance. She looked beyond exhausted. And hot. Her blouse gaped low beneath her lab coat.
"What do you want? We're a little busy at the moment."
Nikola raised a hand to his breast, feigning a mortal wound. "Helen. Must you always think the worst of me?"
"Evidence based..." she said evenly as she held up a syringe to the light.
He took a step into the lab, slipped his hands into his pockets. "I'm here, because I heard what happened. I wanted to help. And make sure you were all right," he added, softening his tone with just a bit of genuine sincerity.
Helen caught his eyes as she lowered the syringe, and for that second he knew she believed him. She turned back to her work, but her tone softened. "I'm fine. Kate was worst off. She will still need a second operation to align the bones, I'm afraid."
While Helen transferred numbers from a read-out on her computer screen to a handwritten list of figures, Nikola moved up beside her and swept his gaze over her form in medical critique. More than one abrasion still visible on her exposed skin. He reached up and ever so lightly brushed his fingers across the deepest wound on her forehead. "Concussion?"
"I said I was fine."
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Are you here to help or to annoy?"
"Have you eaten?"
She exhaled in frustration and returned to a distracted pursuit of whatever she was doing on the table. He couldn't follow the logic of her task, and at this point he doubted she could either.
He kept pushing until she turned around too fast to snap at him and nearly blacked out.
She was less successful lying when he was supporting ninety percent of her weight.
He stayed around the Sanctuary for a while after that. He was due some vacation days, anyway.
"Why exactly are you here? Do remind me."
He shrugged lightly. "I'm here to offer my services. Anything you need, free of charge."
She gave a derisive exhale. "So you're here purely out of the goodness of your heart, your spirit of selfless generosity."
"I am. Didn't we establish this two weeks ago?"
Her laugh was short and bitter. But the hoarseness shot straight to his groin. Everything Helen did was sexy. She wore her centuries well. He could still see the lamplights of Oxford, the mass of barely contained curls, that red dress...
"Right." She shook her head. "You do nothing without an agenda, Nikola. A self-serving agenda."
"Helen. How can you think such a thing of me? You, my oldest friend."
"Exactly."
He cleared his throat. "How about Truth or Dare?"
"How about we not talk?" Helen shot an accompanying glare that would have dutifully silenced a lesser man.
Not Nikola Tesla. He merely shifted to face his prey more directly, rested his arm along the back of the car seat, twisted a finger into her hair, and said, "Well. I can definitely think of several intriguing ways to pass our time that involve no speech of any kind."
Helen tried to be angry. She tried. He saw it. She tried to find a scathing reply, unleash righteous fury. She shook her head, opened her mouth twice, met his gaze, and finally lost to an incredulous laugh in which he was certain lay a fair degree of twisted affection. She was still staring out the windshield, but her posture wasn't quite so tense.
Progress.
*****
The night air was uncomfortably chill, the last few days' unseasonable warm-up coming to an end. Helen shifted in her seat, tried to stretch her long legs in the cramped compartment, to lessen the ache in her right knee. She still had a few sore places from the crash. Not that she would admit such.
She caught Nikola watching the movement and wished she had taken the time to change from her skirt and high boots into slacks and flats. Less tempting.
She rested an arm on the car door and squinted at the deeper darkness on the walkway at her side after the bright spot of the light over the warehouse door. She thought the moment had passed and wasn't expecting the contact when Nikola's hand came to rest on her leg.
He smoothed his palm up and down from the top of her boot to just under the hem of her skirt, drawing his fingers soothingly over just the muscles that ached. Damn him. "It's still bothering you?" he asked, and there was a note of sincerity in his sympathy that she knew would be her undoing. Damn him.
"It's all right," she said softly.
The massage felt really good. Which was the only reason she didn't shove his hand away at once. Her knee had been paining her more than she had realized.
She watched out the window in silence a while longer. At least while his hands were busy, he wasn't talking. Which might have been another reason she let it go on. Right up until his hand wandered from her knee, further up her thigh. Which felt rather amazing. But this wasn't the time.
"Focus, Nikola."
"I'm quite focused, I assure you."
"On the work," she said, careful to enunciate each syllable, careful not to sigh or to let her leg fall open to accommodate his offerings. The air was chill, and for a vampire his hands were unreasonably warm.
"Oh, now, Helen. When have the rules ever stopped you before?"
She bristled and swung on him. His hand stilled and gently gripped her upper thigh. The hand she should have pushed away by now. "We're on a mission," she snapped. "We're back-up."
"We're babysitters at best." And his thumb began a gentle caress that sent butterfly shivers down her spine.
She turned back to her vigil. Bloody hell, she clearly needed more sleep. She would enjoy the teasing touch a few moments longer, then when he pushed the boundaries, she would cut him off, like usual. "Where else does it hurt?" he asked, voice lilting and unnervingly intimate. She tried not to close her eyes. His fingers ventured to explore.
Helen Magnus had almost summoned the nerve to make this stop, to be firm and commanding and put Nikola back in his place and back on his side of the car, when he did it. He flipped out his claws. She felt the slight shift in chemistry and heat in the small space, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. He scratched ever so lightly at the highest point of her inner thigh. Then a little harder.
Bloody hell. He had never gone vamp on her. And she was first gear to fourth in less than a second; her body turning inside out in ways she hadn't felt in years. Vampires were domineering. Arrogant, cruel, controlling. Against everything she stood for, fought for, they were...they were...he was...good God, this was so fucking hot.
"Dear God." She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and squeezed her eyes closed.
The soft chuckle beside her was almost insulting.
Five more breaths in the close space of the car. Then the backs of his knuckles pressed against her core, shifted and kneaded almost testingly. Her hips moved into the touch and her sense of commitment lost its ground.
She should not have been letting this happen. But dammit, he felt so...fucking....good. So many tight places were letting go, feeling nursed and soothed. She used to indulge things like this, didn't she? Once upon a time... The warmth spread beneath her skin and enlivened her nerves, tingling her fingers and softening the ache in her thighs. She hadn't realized how hungry she had been for this contact, this kind of connection. And it was Nikola. A whisper of another time, another Helen, a stability and sense of home she kept hidden in the recesses of memory. "May I have this dance, Miss Magnus?" Soft Serbian syllables and a proffered and tender hand. Warm tea and rose water and velvet cloaks and London snow. Dammit. They were on a mission. Sort of.
"Nikola..." She meant the word as a reprimand, but even she could hear the husky need in her mutinous tones.
"I've got you," he said softly. "You just watch the door."
The fingers of her left hand curled tight around the grip of the steering wheel. Her right hand moved unbidden to dig her nails into the seam of Nikola's slacks.
The fact was, they had now come so far, it would take a tremendous effort on her part to stop before the natural course of events had progressed.
His fingers moved away from her core, just enough to massage the tense muscles of her upper thighs, and she caught a sharp breath, both at the loss of stimulation and the newly welcomed touch. She let go a grateful sigh and tried to ignore the smug little quirk of Nikola's lips.
A claw tickled her thigh. Then a single careful, slow drag along the silk crotch of her silk panties.
Good Lord... The stripped sound from the back of her throat was beyond her control.
No fangs, please, no fangs...
His fingers found her core once more, and then the panties were pushed aside. Skin on skin. He traced her folds, caressed and cradled and she moved into the touch as though edging closer to a welcome fire.
They found their rhythm in no time. They always did.
"Johnny. You don't mind? Just one dance?"
Nikola held a hand toward Helen and looked up at John in sincere deference. He had never overstepped his bounds in their Oxford days. Helen had been John's, and that was a line no friend dared cross.
"But of course, my friend." John's clear, strong voice. A courteous smile between the men, a reassuring and indulgent glance between John and Helen, and then Helen was being lead through the crush on the dance floor and positioned in Nikola's arms. Holiday candles and holly berries catching the light as they stepped and turned. Red gowns and the scent of hot apple cider.
"You are the most beautiful woman in the room, Miss Magnus," he said, voice close and deliciously foreign and hers to keep. She loved John Druitt with all her heart. But there was an understanding shoulder to shoulder with Nikola Tesla she had never found anywhere else in the world.
The ache was growing tight and hard and leaving her restless and a little desperate to reach her destination. She was losing hold of her sense of decorum and discretion and falling more and more under the control of mother nature's desires. But their positions made things hard. She needed to lie back, to stretch, to brace her weight properly. Trapped here, she couldn't...her muscles wouldn't...God, she needed...anhhh...
"Ssshhh...settle, now." Nikola's soft words brushed her ear like candlelight on the dance floor. He slipped his hand from beneath her skirt and moved it to rest warmly on her lower belly. There was an intimacy, a kindness to the touch that transcended sexuality, and the gentle sensation nearly brought tears to her eyes. Nikola had touched her like this two or three times before in their century together, and she had always remembered. There were few people on the planet who took the initiative to touch Helen Magnus' stomach. Nikola was one. And it somehow slipped behind her walls.
She drew a smooth breath, abdomen rising and pressing against his hand, and his thumb moved gently back and forth on a bare patch of skin above the hem of her skirt.
"There we are," he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
Two more steady breaths, and then his hand was moving ever so gently back up her thigh.
She didn't last long. Her body needed this too much. Maybe more than her body was in need.
The claws had gone, and Nikola's nimble fingers massaged her swollen folds with unerring skill. He let her moisture run across his hand. He cradled her shoulders and fit his other hand to her intimate curves with perfect ease. He knew how long to push, how long to tease. When to move with her rhythm, and when to slide a finger inside and press his thumb unceasingly to her raw nerves. He knew to provide the grounding pressure she thirsted for while he slid back and forth and in and out and then began to shimmer and vibrate his fingers right on the...and...oh, Christ almighty... Helen curled forward over the steering wheel and dug the heel of her boot into the floorboard. Nikola moved in and pulled her close, and try as she might to cling to the wheel and the wheel alone, when the full wave hit, her hand shot out and caught Nikola's lapel and she tucked her face into his shoulder.
Helen Magnus had never been quiet. She prayed to whatever Gods reigned over the immortals that none of the surveillance radios had been knocked on.
When the waves of unreasonable pleasure slowed, she found herself panting and trembling and tangled up in Nikola Tesla's arms, scrunched as they were over the emergency brake. Bloody, bloody hell.
She took another moment to regain her breath. She glanced at the dashboard clock through the veil of her disheveled hair. Still a good twenty minutes in the clear. They had come this far. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Helen sniffed and shifted, catching at her breath and snatching at control. "Hmmm....you...," another deep breath and a hand to push back her hair, "...you...shift into your seat. I can--" But Nikola cut her off with a shake of his head and long fingers to stroke her hair. He lingered for a gentle caress at her temple and she had lost the ability not to drink in the offering.
"Hush, now," he murmured.
Helen shoved upward in her seat. Nikola's hand slipped down her thigh with the movement, and she winced at the loss. The cold air on her damp regions sent unpleasant shivers across her skin. "No, Nikola, it's only fair. You..."
But he gave her a soft smile with gently sparkling eyes and shook his head. She let her own head fall to rest against the seatback. She was still breathing hard, still regaining solid muscle function.
"No, no, no." Nikola easily straightened his posture and moved firmly into his seat. The withdrawal took his hand from around her shoulders to cradle her cheek. "No agenda," he said, almost teasingly. But the kindness and tenderness lingered between them and she was still fuzzy from the tidal wave and she only frowned up at him in question. He leaned in and placed a long kiss to her eyebrow. She was devoid of the resources not to lean into the touch. He drew his fingers down a long tendril of her hair. "This was just to make you feel better," he said.
Then he reached for a radio and the handle of the door. "I'm off to check on the kiddies." A wink, a smile, and he was gone.
Helen sat alone in the cold car, still warmed from the inside, still low on defenses and thin on reflexes, watching Nikola's agile frame disappear into the shadows around the corner of the warehouse.
Nikola Telsa. The lure of the unexpected. Yes. Definitely what made him so...very...intriguing.
*****
#
And while I'm at it let me throw out a big rec for the fic written for meeeeee by somehowunbroken - Family Portrait. Beautiful Helen/John/Ashley angst. Squee!
DISCLAIMER: All belongs to Damien Kindler and Stage 3 Media and Ms. Tapping and all the usual suspects who aren't me. Just borrowing these beautiful people. Thanks for the favor.:)
TITLE: Not On the Agenda
RATING: Mature
CATEGORIES: Helen/Nikola, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
TIMELINE: Takes place between "Acolyte" and "The Depths"
Beta love to helenhighwater7 and choraii!
Written in the sanctuary_santa challenge for m_ravensblood.
Not On the Agenda
by
Rowan Darkstar
Copyright (c) 2011
In the gut-gnawing stillness of the wait, Nikola fixated on the blood-purple tint to Helen's crimson nail polish, miscast by the antiquated mercury vapor lamps. Her fingers rested on the steering wheel, nails tapping out a restless pattern.
Their part of the mission was hardly necessary. They were little more than back-up. But Helen had been edgy, lately. Over-protective, even. Nikola had known her long enough to piece together the reasons. Henry was out in the field a good deal more these days, and Nikola knew this was eating away at her. She had a soft spot for the little runt. Truth be told, Nikola was quite fond of him as well. He was useful. And properly admiring. Her Sasquatch had given them all a good scare. Adam Worth -- or the bits and bytes shadow of him -- had shaken Helen more than she had even come close to admitting. Her little thrift store waif had nearly died despite Helen's skillful efforts to heal. Nikola liked to think his own precarious position between sides of the encroaching war was a worry to her as well, however unfounded.
And then Johnny...
Helen looked at her watch for the five hundredth time. "They should be out by now," she said, purple nails digging into the leather of the steering wheel cover.
Nikola gave an exaggerated sigh and sank deeper into the passenger seat of the luxury sedan. How many cars did Helen own these days? He began a mental tally. He thought about the open-top in Vienna. "They're not late," he said simply. "They won't be late for another half an hour. Or more. We timed it out, remember?"
He caught the irritated twitch of Helen's cheek muscles, but she kept her gaze locked on the distant warehouse door.
Nikola dropped his head against the seat and rolled his neck to face Helen. "Oh, come on....at least get in the spirit of the stakeout. Can't we do something fun? Twenty questions? Shakespeare trivia? Truth or dare?"
"How about we actually watch the warehouse like we're supposed to?"
"You can't watch and talk at the same time? What kind of genius are you?"
She clicked her tongue and gave a quick shake of her head. "Not your kind, certainly."
Nikola shifted a bit closer in his seat and flashed her a brilliant smile. "Oh, on the contrary, my dear Dr. Magnus. You are exactly my kind."
Helen only closed her eyes and gave a slow exhale. She returned her focus to the warehouse.
He was getting on her nerves. He knew that. He had been hovering for a while, now. He had shown up in Old City when wind of the Buenos Aires explosion hit the fan. He had found Helen in her lab, between surgeries on Kate, and going on two days without sleep.
His stomach had uncinched a bit the moment he had her back in his own line of sight -- alive and annoyed.
"Nikola!"
He swore for a moment there was a flash of gratitude in her eyes when he appeared in the doorway. Quickly replaced by a distant annoyance. She looked beyond exhausted. And hot. Her blouse gaped low beneath her lab coat.
"What do you want? We're a little busy at the moment."
Nikola raised a hand to his breast, feigning a mortal wound. "Helen. Must you always think the worst of me?"
"Evidence based..." she said evenly as she held up a syringe to the light.
He took a step into the lab, slipped his hands into his pockets. "I'm here, because I heard what happened. I wanted to help. And make sure you were all right," he added, softening his tone with just a bit of genuine sincerity.
Helen caught his eyes as she lowered the syringe, and for that second he knew she believed him. She turned back to her work, but her tone softened. "I'm fine. Kate was worst off. She will still need a second operation to align the bones, I'm afraid."
While Helen transferred numbers from a read-out on her computer screen to a handwritten list of figures, Nikola moved up beside her and swept his gaze over her form in medical critique. More than one abrasion still visible on her exposed skin. He reached up and ever so lightly brushed his fingers across the deepest wound on her forehead. "Concussion?"
"I said I was fine."
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Are you here to help or to annoy?"
"Have you eaten?"
She exhaled in frustration and returned to a distracted pursuit of whatever she was doing on the table. He couldn't follow the logic of her task, and at this point he doubted she could either.
He kept pushing until she turned around too fast to snap at him and nearly blacked out.
She was less successful lying when he was supporting ninety percent of her weight.
He stayed around the Sanctuary for a while after that. He was due some vacation days, anyway.
"Why exactly are you here? Do remind me."
He shrugged lightly. "I'm here to offer my services. Anything you need, free of charge."
She gave a derisive exhale. "So you're here purely out of the goodness of your heart, your spirit of selfless generosity."
"I am. Didn't we establish this two weeks ago?"
Her laugh was short and bitter. But the hoarseness shot straight to his groin. Everything Helen did was sexy. She wore her centuries well. He could still see the lamplights of Oxford, the mass of barely contained curls, that red dress...
"Right." She shook her head. "You do nothing without an agenda, Nikola. A self-serving agenda."
"Helen. How can you think such a thing of me? You, my oldest friend."
"Exactly."
He cleared his throat. "How about Truth or Dare?"
"How about we not talk?" Helen shot an accompanying glare that would have dutifully silenced a lesser man.
Not Nikola Tesla. He merely shifted to face his prey more directly, rested his arm along the back of the car seat, twisted a finger into her hair, and said, "Well. I can definitely think of several intriguing ways to pass our time that involve no speech of any kind."
Helen tried to be angry. She tried. He saw it. She tried to find a scathing reply, unleash righteous fury. She shook her head, opened her mouth twice, met his gaze, and finally lost to an incredulous laugh in which he was certain lay a fair degree of twisted affection. She was still staring out the windshield, but her posture wasn't quite so tense.
Progress.
*****
The night air was uncomfortably chill, the last few days' unseasonable warm-up coming to an end. Helen shifted in her seat, tried to stretch her long legs in the cramped compartment, to lessen the ache in her right knee. She still had a few sore places from the crash. Not that she would admit such.
She caught Nikola watching the movement and wished she had taken the time to change from her skirt and high boots into slacks and flats. Less tempting.
She rested an arm on the car door and squinted at the deeper darkness on the walkway at her side after the bright spot of the light over the warehouse door. She thought the moment had passed and wasn't expecting the contact when Nikola's hand came to rest on her leg.
He smoothed his palm up and down from the top of her boot to just under the hem of her skirt, drawing his fingers soothingly over just the muscles that ached. Damn him. "It's still bothering you?" he asked, and there was a note of sincerity in his sympathy that she knew would be her undoing. Damn him.
"It's all right," she said softly.
The massage felt really good. Which was the only reason she didn't shove his hand away at once. Her knee had been paining her more than she had realized.
She watched out the window in silence a while longer. At least while his hands were busy, he wasn't talking. Which might have been another reason she let it go on. Right up until his hand wandered from her knee, further up her thigh. Which felt rather amazing. But this wasn't the time.
"Focus, Nikola."
"I'm quite focused, I assure you."
"On the work," she said, careful to enunciate each syllable, careful not to sigh or to let her leg fall open to accommodate his offerings. The air was chill, and for a vampire his hands were unreasonably warm.
"Oh, now, Helen. When have the rules ever stopped you before?"
She bristled and swung on him. His hand stilled and gently gripped her upper thigh. The hand she should have pushed away by now. "We're on a mission," she snapped. "We're back-up."
"We're babysitters at best." And his thumb began a gentle caress that sent butterfly shivers down her spine.
She turned back to her vigil. Bloody hell, she clearly needed more sleep. She would enjoy the teasing touch a few moments longer, then when he pushed the boundaries, she would cut him off, like usual. "Where else does it hurt?" he asked, voice lilting and unnervingly intimate. She tried not to close her eyes. His fingers ventured to explore.
Helen Magnus had almost summoned the nerve to make this stop, to be firm and commanding and put Nikola back in his place and back on his side of the car, when he did it. He flipped out his claws. She felt the slight shift in chemistry and heat in the small space, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. He scratched ever so lightly at the highest point of her inner thigh. Then a little harder.
Bloody hell. He had never gone vamp on her. And she was first gear to fourth in less than a second; her body turning inside out in ways she hadn't felt in years. Vampires were domineering. Arrogant, cruel, controlling. Against everything she stood for, fought for, they were...they were...he was...good God, this was so fucking hot.
"Dear God." She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and squeezed her eyes closed.
The soft chuckle beside her was almost insulting.
Five more breaths in the close space of the car. Then the backs of his knuckles pressed against her core, shifted and kneaded almost testingly. Her hips moved into the touch and her sense of commitment lost its ground.
She should not have been letting this happen. But dammit, he felt so...fucking....good. So many tight places were letting go, feeling nursed and soothed. She used to indulge things like this, didn't she? Once upon a time... The warmth spread beneath her skin and enlivened her nerves, tingling her fingers and softening the ache in her thighs. She hadn't realized how hungry she had been for this contact, this kind of connection. And it was Nikola. A whisper of another time, another Helen, a stability and sense of home she kept hidden in the recesses of memory. "May I have this dance, Miss Magnus?" Soft Serbian syllables and a proffered and tender hand. Warm tea and rose water and velvet cloaks and London snow. Dammit. They were on a mission. Sort of.
"Nikola..." She meant the word as a reprimand, but even she could hear the husky need in her mutinous tones.
"I've got you," he said softly. "You just watch the door."
The fingers of her left hand curled tight around the grip of the steering wheel. Her right hand moved unbidden to dig her nails into the seam of Nikola's slacks.
The fact was, they had now come so far, it would take a tremendous effort on her part to stop before the natural course of events had progressed.
His fingers moved away from her core, just enough to massage the tense muscles of her upper thighs, and she caught a sharp breath, both at the loss of stimulation and the newly welcomed touch. She let go a grateful sigh and tried to ignore the smug little quirk of Nikola's lips.
A claw tickled her thigh. Then a single careful, slow drag along the silk crotch of her silk panties.
Good Lord... The stripped sound from the back of her throat was beyond her control.
No fangs, please, no fangs...
His fingers found her core once more, and then the panties were pushed aside. Skin on skin. He traced her folds, caressed and cradled and she moved into the touch as though edging closer to a welcome fire.
They found their rhythm in no time. They always did.
"Johnny. You don't mind? Just one dance?"
Nikola held a hand toward Helen and looked up at John in sincere deference. He had never overstepped his bounds in their Oxford days. Helen had been John's, and that was a line no friend dared cross.
"But of course, my friend." John's clear, strong voice. A courteous smile between the men, a reassuring and indulgent glance between John and Helen, and then Helen was being lead through the crush on the dance floor and positioned in Nikola's arms. Holiday candles and holly berries catching the light as they stepped and turned. Red gowns and the scent of hot apple cider.
"You are the most beautiful woman in the room, Miss Magnus," he said, voice close and deliciously foreign and hers to keep. She loved John Druitt with all her heart. But there was an understanding shoulder to shoulder with Nikola Tesla she had never found anywhere else in the world.
The ache was growing tight and hard and leaving her restless and a little desperate to reach her destination. She was losing hold of her sense of decorum and discretion and falling more and more under the control of mother nature's desires. But their positions made things hard. She needed to lie back, to stretch, to brace her weight properly. Trapped here, she couldn't...her muscles wouldn't...God, she needed...anhhh...
"Ssshhh...settle, now." Nikola's soft words brushed her ear like candlelight on the dance floor. He slipped his hand from beneath her skirt and moved it to rest warmly on her lower belly. There was an intimacy, a kindness to the touch that transcended sexuality, and the gentle sensation nearly brought tears to her eyes. Nikola had touched her like this two or three times before in their century together, and she had always remembered. There were few people on the planet who took the initiative to touch Helen Magnus' stomach. Nikola was one. And it somehow slipped behind her walls.
She drew a smooth breath, abdomen rising and pressing against his hand, and his thumb moved gently back and forth on a bare patch of skin above the hem of her skirt.
"There we are," he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
Two more steady breaths, and then his hand was moving ever so gently back up her thigh.
She didn't last long. Her body needed this too much. Maybe more than her body was in need.
The claws had gone, and Nikola's nimble fingers massaged her swollen folds with unerring skill. He let her moisture run across his hand. He cradled her shoulders and fit his other hand to her intimate curves with perfect ease. He knew how long to push, how long to tease. When to move with her rhythm, and when to slide a finger inside and press his thumb unceasingly to her raw nerves. He knew to provide the grounding pressure she thirsted for while he slid back and forth and in and out and then began to shimmer and vibrate his fingers right on the...and...oh, Christ almighty... Helen curled forward over the steering wheel and dug the heel of her boot into the floorboard. Nikola moved in and pulled her close, and try as she might to cling to the wheel and the wheel alone, when the full wave hit, her hand shot out and caught Nikola's lapel and she tucked her face into his shoulder.
Helen Magnus had never been quiet. She prayed to whatever Gods reigned over the immortals that none of the surveillance radios had been knocked on.
When the waves of unreasonable pleasure slowed, she found herself panting and trembling and tangled up in Nikola Tesla's arms, scrunched as they were over the emergency brake. Bloody, bloody hell.
She took another moment to regain her breath. She glanced at the dashboard clock through the veil of her disheveled hair. Still a good twenty minutes in the clear. They had come this far. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Helen sniffed and shifted, catching at her breath and snatching at control. "Hmmm....you...," another deep breath and a hand to push back her hair, "...you...shift into your seat. I can--" But Nikola cut her off with a shake of his head and long fingers to stroke her hair. He lingered for a gentle caress at her temple and she had lost the ability not to drink in the offering.
"Hush, now," he murmured.
Helen shoved upward in her seat. Nikola's hand slipped down her thigh with the movement, and she winced at the loss. The cold air on her damp regions sent unpleasant shivers across her skin. "No, Nikola, it's only fair. You..."
But he gave her a soft smile with gently sparkling eyes and shook his head. She let her own head fall to rest against the seatback. She was still breathing hard, still regaining solid muscle function.
"No, no, no." Nikola easily straightened his posture and moved firmly into his seat. The withdrawal took his hand from around her shoulders to cradle her cheek. "No agenda," he said, almost teasingly. But the kindness and tenderness lingered between them and she was still fuzzy from the tidal wave and she only frowned up at him in question. He leaned in and placed a long kiss to her eyebrow. She was devoid of the resources not to lean into the touch. He drew his fingers down a long tendril of her hair. "This was just to make you feel better," he said.
Then he reached for a radio and the handle of the door. "I'm off to check on the kiddies." A wink, a smile, and he was gone.
Helen sat alone in the cold car, still warmed from the inside, still low on defenses and thin on reflexes, watching Nikola's agile frame disappear into the shadows around the corner of the warehouse.
Nikola Telsa. The lure of the unexpected. Yes. Definitely what made him so...very...intriguing.
*****
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