FIC: "Wrong Is Right" [Sanctuary; Helen/Ashley]
*sigh* All ya'll sane, rational, *normal* people just.. just look away!
Title: Wrong Is Right
Fandom: Sanctuary
Pairing: Helen/Ashley
Rating: Mature
Warning: Incest
Word Count: 880
Summary: Helen picks the wrong time to think about her inappropriate relationship with Ashley.
**
The convulsion hit Helen like a sonic boom, reverberating up and down her body, making her toes curl, her neck arch as the back of her head slammed down on the pillow, leaving goosebumps across her skin in its wake. Her hands thrashed and flailed at the head board, trying to find purchase.
She snapped her eyes closed as tears of frustration welled in the corners. In her hundred and fifty years of life, Helen Magnus had had many lovers. Some lasted for decades, some for months and some for the scant hour she’d spent with them.
But none had pleasured her like *this*; knowingly, lovingly, expertly. Her body played like a master violinist with their instrument, an orchestra of sensation and sound. And Helen felt the tears welling in her eyes because she’d waited so long for *this*, this feeling, this pleasure, this transcendental experience created through sex. Just..
Not with her daughter.
For a hundred years, Helen debated bringing John Druitt’s child into the world. She’d loved him with all her heart and soul, even after he’d turned into a monster, even after they’d created a child together. But how much of him would be in their child, how much of her? John wasn’t completely evil, and Helen had never exactly been a saint.
How much of *them* would be in their child?
Ultimately, Helen chose. A hundred years later, Ashley came screaming into the world, tiny and pink and vulnerable. Helen kept her safe, secret, hidden from the world and placed into the one Helen created for her. Sanctuary. Over time, gangly limbs turned to womanly curves, childlike curiosity turned a bit more adult.
The child grew into a woman, a perfect creature even Helen’s eyes could not avoid. The small breasts that grew into perfect swells, soft hips and long legs. This creature, of innocence and naïve sexuality, she was Helen’s and Helen bathed herself in ice water at the dawning of her own desire.
Helen tried not to think of that first night Ashley had slipped into her room with curious fingers and exploratory lips. She’d always wished for her daughter’s first time to be special, she never intended for it to be with Helen. The whimper in Ashley’s throat as Helen took her chastity, the growl that erupted from Helen’s. Had Ashley seduced Helen, or had Helen merely bided her time? Waited for the moment her creation came to her, waited until the apple was ripe before she took her forbidden bite?
Ashley responded to Helen’s shudder, slid two fingers into Helen’s sex and worked them in tandem with the lips suckling on her clit. She could go for hours, literally, if Helen let her. Work Helen into a frenzy then pull back so she’d have to start all over again, pleasure flowing in and receding like a tide getting ever higher with each crest.
“Ashley,” Helen keened, reaching down and threading her fingers into Ashley’s hair. And then three fingers were inside her. More. Just like that. Just like Helen wanted, like she needed. Faster, harder, deeper, the fingertips curled *just* so, stroking against that spot, the spot no other lover had found. But Ashley had. Again and again and again.
It’s why Helen could never say ‘no’, even when she wanted to, even when she knew she should. She would say no and Ashley would go away.
And Helen would never feel that touch again.. for eternity.
It was a price Helen refused to pay.
Helen came, screaming incomprehensible words, writhing and bucking on sweat stained sheets. The tears inked their way through the barrier of her eyelids. Helen came and she cried. She cried because it wasn’t John Druitt who was the monster - it was Helen.
“Shh,” Ashley whispered, kissing the corner of Helen’s eye. Her lips trailed across Helen’s cheek, then pressed against Helen’s lips. Slow and gentle, then gently prodding and Ashley’s tongue was in Helen’s mouth and Helen tasted herself on her daughter’s tongue. Thoughts of immorality and evil pushed back into the dark recesses of her mind. Her hands trailed up Ashley’s back as her thighs lifted, heels digging into the back of Ashley’s legs, her hips arched and the tide began to rise.
She was immortal but still human, still fallible. And she’d learned in her hundred and fifty years sometimes wrong is right. Ashley loved her, unconditionally. Who was Helen Magnus to turn such love away? Who was anyone to judge her for reaching for something so few ever truly experience?
Ashley slid a hand between them, grasping at the phallus attached to the harness strapped around her waist.
“I love you, Mother,” she spoke softly, guiding the phallus easily into Helen’s sex.
Helen answered with a kiss. A hundred years she’d been so alone, so lonely. She thought bringing a child into this world would alleviate it. Helen had never truly believed in soul mates but, as her fingers dug into Ashley’s back and they began a rhythm where two began one, maybe she’d found one *because* Ashley was her flesh and blood. Maybe the only one who could truly fulfill her was something that, in some ways, *was* her. If that was wrong?
Helen Magnus didn’t ever want to be right.
END
Title: Wrong Is Right
Fandom: Sanctuary
Pairing: Helen/Ashley
Rating: Mature
Warning: Incest
Word Count: 880
Summary: Helen picks the wrong time to think about her inappropriate relationship with Ashley.
**
The convulsion hit Helen like a sonic boom, reverberating up and down her body, making her toes curl, her neck arch as the back of her head slammed down on the pillow, leaving goosebumps across her skin in its wake. Her hands thrashed and flailed at the head board, trying to find purchase.
She snapped her eyes closed as tears of frustration welled in the corners. In her hundred and fifty years of life, Helen Magnus had had many lovers. Some lasted for decades, some for months and some for the scant hour she’d spent with them.
But none had pleasured her like *this*; knowingly, lovingly, expertly. Her body played like a master violinist with their instrument, an orchestra of sensation and sound. And Helen felt the tears welling in her eyes because she’d waited so long for *this*, this feeling, this pleasure, this transcendental experience created through sex. Just..
Not with her daughter.
For a hundred years, Helen debated bringing John Druitt’s child into the world. She’d loved him with all her heart and soul, even after he’d turned into a monster, even after they’d created a child together. But how much of him would be in their child, how much of her? John wasn’t completely evil, and Helen had never exactly been a saint.
How much of *them* would be in their child?
Ultimately, Helen chose. A hundred years later, Ashley came screaming into the world, tiny and pink and vulnerable. Helen kept her safe, secret, hidden from the world and placed into the one Helen created for her. Sanctuary. Over time, gangly limbs turned to womanly curves, childlike curiosity turned a bit more adult.
The child grew into a woman, a perfect creature even Helen’s eyes could not avoid. The small breasts that grew into perfect swells, soft hips and long legs. This creature, of innocence and naïve sexuality, she was Helen’s and Helen bathed herself in ice water at the dawning of her own desire.
Helen tried not to think of that first night Ashley had slipped into her room with curious fingers and exploratory lips. She’d always wished for her daughter’s first time to be special, she never intended for it to be with Helen. The whimper in Ashley’s throat as Helen took her chastity, the growl that erupted from Helen’s. Had Ashley seduced Helen, or had Helen merely bided her time? Waited for the moment her creation came to her, waited until the apple was ripe before she took her forbidden bite?
Ashley responded to Helen’s shudder, slid two fingers into Helen’s sex and worked them in tandem with the lips suckling on her clit. She could go for hours, literally, if Helen let her. Work Helen into a frenzy then pull back so she’d have to start all over again, pleasure flowing in and receding like a tide getting ever higher with each crest.
“Ashley,” Helen keened, reaching down and threading her fingers into Ashley’s hair. And then three fingers were inside her. More. Just like that. Just like Helen wanted, like she needed. Faster, harder, deeper, the fingertips curled *just* so, stroking against that spot, the spot no other lover had found. But Ashley had. Again and again and again.
It’s why Helen could never say ‘no’, even when she wanted to, even when she knew she should. She would say no and Ashley would go away.
And Helen would never feel that touch again.. for eternity.
It was a price Helen refused to pay.
Helen came, screaming incomprehensible words, writhing and bucking on sweat stained sheets. The tears inked their way through the barrier of her eyelids. Helen came and she cried. She cried because it wasn’t John Druitt who was the monster - it was Helen.
“Shh,” Ashley whispered, kissing the corner of Helen’s eye. Her lips trailed across Helen’s cheek, then pressed against Helen’s lips. Slow and gentle, then gently prodding and Ashley’s tongue was in Helen’s mouth and Helen tasted herself on her daughter’s tongue. Thoughts of immorality and evil pushed back into the dark recesses of her mind. Her hands trailed up Ashley’s back as her thighs lifted, heels digging into the back of Ashley’s legs, her hips arched and the tide began to rise.
She was immortal but still human, still fallible. And she’d learned in her hundred and fifty years sometimes wrong is right. Ashley loved her, unconditionally. Who was Helen Magnus to turn such love away? Who was anyone to judge her for reaching for something so few ever truly experience?
Ashley slid a hand between them, grasping at the phallus attached to the harness strapped around her waist.
“I love you, Mother,” she spoke softly, guiding the phallus easily into Helen’s sex.
Helen answered with a kiss. A hundred years she’d been so alone, so lonely. She thought bringing a child into this world would alleviate it. Helen had never truly believed in soul mates but, as her fingers dug into Ashley’s back and they began a rhythm where two began one, maybe she’d found one *because* Ashley was her flesh and blood. Maybe the only one who could truly fulfill her was something that, in some ways, *was* her. If that was wrong?
Helen Magnus didn’t ever want to be right.
END