The Saint (Monica/Elle, NC-17)
Title: The Saint.
Fandom: Heroes.
Characters: Monica Dawson.
Pairings: Monica/Elle.
Spoilers: 2x11 Powerless.
Kinks: Not much.
Summary: Monica has something that Elle wants.
A/N: Cross-posted to heroes_fic and mature_heroes.
Strolling into the Company building at about 1 AM in costume didn't seem like as big a deal to Monica these days, although she'd been very nervous the first time she let herself in, even though Bob assured her that the training facilities were hers to use. Even the costume didn't really feel like a costume, although she was still glad to take off the scarf that hid half her face. The room was warm, so she followed the scarf with the baggy black hoodie, a legacy of her insecure high school days that had become, strangely enough, part of her boldest disguise.
She was in the middle of pulling it off, her head entangled in the heavy black cotton and sight restricted, when she heard a voice behind her and stiffened.
"So you're the saint, huh?"
She didn't let herself freeze. Instead, she dumped the sweatshirt on the floor and turned around, spreading her feet more securely beneath her.
A tiny white girl was lounging against the door frame, her ankles crossed. Bluish sparks jumped between the fingers of her right hand. Obviously she had abilities, too.
"I'm Monica," she said.
"People speak most highly of you in this city," said the girl, smiling eerily. She uncrossed her ankles and walked slowly towards her.
Monica decided not to flinch, or move away, or do anything. Maybe she was in a tank top, but she was still St. Joan. If every criminal in the city was afraid of her, and she wasn't about to walk away from a five foot one spark plug.
"Oh! Where are my manners?" said the girl when she reached her. She held out her hand. "I'm Elle."
Monica took her hand, and startled at the electric shock. She wasn't sure what this girl was playing at. "Nice to meet you."
Elle smiled sweetly. "My ability is with lightning, you see. What about you?"
She talked as though it was just normal for two people with abilities to question each other and test their powers on each other whenever they met. Maybe it was. Before the Company found her, Monica only knew her cousin, and then later Niki, but not for long. "I'm a muscle mimic." That was the official name, and the one she used with Company people.
"So you can do anything anyone else can do?" asked Elle, bright-eyed. "Can you do lightning?"
"No," said Monica. "I can't mimic abilities. Only natural things."
Elle pouted. "It's plenty natural, you know."
"I do karate," said Monica, eager to steer the conversation away. "Dancing, athletics, stuff like that. Maybe languages, I haven't tried any yet."
"Cool," said Elle. "So, have you ever watched any porn? You know, to learn how to fuck?"
Monica wasn't sure how to react to her forwardness. "What kind of question is that?" she asked.
"So that's a yes," said Elle and smirked. "If I asked you to teach me --"
"I don't teach," said Monica. "I learn."
"Not porny stuff," said Elle. "Teach me how to be a superhero. You're the only one, the only real one. How'd you do it?"
"By not electrocuting people whenever I touch them," snapped Monica.
"Not even if they ask really, really nicely?" asked Elle poutily.
"Why would anyone ask something like that?" asked Monica. "It hurts."
"Some people like it when it hurts," said Elle. Her hand sparked. "I like it when they like it. I like hurting them."
"That's not the same."
Elle stepped up to her. "Teach me how to be a hero, Saint Joan," she said huskily. "I'll trade you anything."
Monica shifted back. Elle was a lot shorter than her, even in her black pumps, her body emanated warmth and a smell like lilac perfume.
Far from moving back, Elle pressed closer and nestled her head under Monica's chin. She hummed, "You smell like grass and cinnamon."
Monica shuddered and put a hand on her shoulder to push her back. "Lord. It's not your business how I smell. I can't make you a hero, girl, you gotta do that on your own. And I don't want you to do anything for me."
"Mmm, Saint Joan," said Elle, closing her eyes and smiling. "You can have anything you like, and you don't want any of it?"
"I got everything I want," said Monica softly.
Obliviously smiling, Elle stepped forward again and fingered the strap of her tank top. No sparks jumped from her hand. She traced the strap down her shoulder and chest, her finger followed the line of white fabric across Monica's chest, barely brushing her skin, and a chill shot down her spine. "No shocks, I promise," breathed Elle. "Not even if you ask, not even if you beg...."
Monica closed her hand on Elle's wrist. "Why are you doing this?"
Elle smiled up at her. "Kiss me! Please?"
She shook her wrist a little and Elle giggled.
"Please, I promise I'll be good!" She pushed up against Monica's body and tilted her head up, her eyelids fluttering closed in anticipation.
Half-curiously, but mostly just annoyed, Monica leaned down a little to kiss her on the cheek. Before she knew it, Elle was pressing her lips against hers and wrapping her arms around her neck. She felt another chill when her fingers locked together behind her neck. When her lips parted a little, Monica allowed her own mouth to open and, in a flash, Elle's tongue was in her mouth. She felt warm and giddy from the body pushing itself insistently against her and the heat of the sudden kiss.
Elle let go of her mouth only to descent on the side of her neck and nuzzle her way up to her ear, where she stopped to whisper, "Anything you want, I swear."
Monica's hands crawled around Elle's waist and dipped under the hem of her blouse. She skimmed her fingers across the skin of her back, which caused Elle to hum a little as she sucked on her neck. Her hands moved farther up, and Elle pulled her torso back. Her hair and the front of her blouse were mussed. She trailed both her hands over Monica's neck, shoulders and chest and began provocatively opening the buttons of her blouse. Underneath it was taut, peachy skin and lacy bra, which Elle reached back to unhook.
She shrugged a little, which barely moved her shirt down her shoulders. Monica obligingly slipped it off, and then the open bra underneath it, stroking the sides of Elle's breasts on the way. She made the now-familiar humming sound, and curled down to press herself to Monica's torso, pulling up her tank top. Overcome by the heat Monica clung to her for a minute, feeling her breasts pressing against her stomach and chest. She reached back and unhooked her own bra. Before she knew it, Elle was squeezing her left breast while nibbling her neck.
She knew she was unconsciously making little sounds, though she wasn't sure what they might be. Her arms wrapped around Elle, her fingers tangled in her hair and she squeaked when Elle pinched her nipple.
"I'll fix it," Elle whispered. She pulled down her head and started sucking on the nipple. Monica moaned. She moved her hands down to the back of Elle's neck, afraid she would pull on her hair by accident if she went on like this. Elle moved her mouth to the other nipple and her hand covered the abandoned breast, making Monica moan harder and longer.
Her knees felt wobbly and she sat down, hard. The exercise mat on the floor didn't provide much padding. It wasn't really anything like a bed, but bit suited them fine as Elle climbed over her, clung to her, kissing her way up to her neck and mouth. Elle's hands moved down over her stomach and pushed helplessly at the waistband of her pants. Monica rolled her over on her side and lifted her hips off the ground, whereupon Elle pulled down her pants and underwear and Monica kicked them off.
"Wait," said Elle with a breathless giggle. She unbuttoned her dress pants and pulled them off quickly but clumsily. Naked, she laid back down next to her and throw her arms around her neck. They kissed heatedly. Monica found Elle's hand creeping between her thighs, fingering her momentarily before she pushed in one and two fingers. Moaning, she rolled back on her back and spread her thighs a little, letting Elle's fingers go where they will. Her own hand reached between Elle's legs; she was just as wet as her. Her fingers slid in easily and she heard Elle squeak as she circled her clit with her thumb.
She fisted her hand and pulled out. Elle was thrusting a third finger into her. Her hands grabbed at Elle's thighs and she bucked up against her, panting. "Oh, more," she whispered, breathing hard. Elle obliged, her hand thrusting in and out faster, harder. Monica threw her hand back and came with a soft scream.
Smiling softly, Elle spread herself over Monica's sweaty body, wrapping around her tightly. Monica's limp hands moved back towards her, she gently parted her thighs and slipped two fingers into her. Elle hummed and keened when she pumped her hand inside her, pushed against her, tightened around her and then slackened again with a soft sigh. She rested her head on Monica chest, her arms curling around her waist.
"We should do that again," said Elle sweetly. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
Fandom: Heroes.
Characters: Monica Dawson.
Pairings: Monica/Elle.
Spoilers: 2x11 Powerless.
Kinks: Not much.
Summary: Monica has something that Elle wants.
A/N: Cross-posted to heroes_fic and mature_heroes.
Strolling into the Company building at about 1 AM in costume didn't seem like as big a deal to Monica these days, although she'd been very nervous the first time she let herself in, even though Bob assured her that the training facilities were hers to use. Even the costume didn't really feel like a costume, although she was still glad to take off the scarf that hid half her face. The room was warm, so she followed the scarf with the baggy black hoodie, a legacy of her insecure high school days that had become, strangely enough, part of her boldest disguise.
She was in the middle of pulling it off, her head entangled in the heavy black cotton and sight restricted, when she heard a voice behind her and stiffened.
"So you're the saint, huh?"
She didn't let herself freeze. Instead, she dumped the sweatshirt on the floor and turned around, spreading her feet more securely beneath her.
A tiny white girl was lounging against the door frame, her ankles crossed. Bluish sparks jumped between the fingers of her right hand. Obviously she had abilities, too.
"I'm Monica," she said.
"People speak most highly of you in this city," said the girl, smiling eerily. She uncrossed her ankles and walked slowly towards her.
Monica decided not to flinch, or move away, or do anything. Maybe she was in a tank top, but she was still St. Joan. If every criminal in the city was afraid of her, and she wasn't about to walk away from a five foot one spark plug.
"Oh! Where are my manners?" said the girl when she reached her. She held out her hand. "I'm Elle."
Monica took her hand, and startled at the electric shock. She wasn't sure what this girl was playing at. "Nice to meet you."
Elle smiled sweetly. "My ability is with lightning, you see. What about you?"
She talked as though it was just normal for two people with abilities to question each other and test their powers on each other whenever they met. Maybe it was. Before the Company found her, Monica only knew her cousin, and then later Niki, but not for long. "I'm a muscle mimic." That was the official name, and the one she used with Company people.
"So you can do anything anyone else can do?" asked Elle, bright-eyed. "Can you do lightning?"
"No," said Monica. "I can't mimic abilities. Only natural things."
Elle pouted. "It's plenty natural, you know."
"I do karate," said Monica, eager to steer the conversation away. "Dancing, athletics, stuff like that. Maybe languages, I haven't tried any yet."
"Cool," said Elle. "So, have you ever watched any porn? You know, to learn how to fuck?"
Monica wasn't sure how to react to her forwardness. "What kind of question is that?" she asked.
"So that's a yes," said Elle and smirked. "If I asked you to teach me --"
"I don't teach," said Monica. "I learn."
"Not porny stuff," said Elle. "Teach me how to be a superhero. You're the only one, the only real one. How'd you do it?"
"By not electrocuting people whenever I touch them," snapped Monica.
"Not even if they ask really, really nicely?" asked Elle poutily.
"Why would anyone ask something like that?" asked Monica. "It hurts."
"Some people like it when it hurts," said Elle. Her hand sparked. "I like it when they like it. I like hurting them."
"That's not the same."
Elle stepped up to her. "Teach me how to be a hero, Saint Joan," she said huskily. "I'll trade you anything."
Monica shifted back. Elle was a lot shorter than her, even in her black pumps, her body emanated warmth and a smell like lilac perfume.
Far from moving back, Elle pressed closer and nestled her head under Monica's chin. She hummed, "You smell like grass and cinnamon."
Monica shuddered and put a hand on her shoulder to push her back. "Lord. It's not your business how I smell. I can't make you a hero, girl, you gotta do that on your own. And I don't want you to do anything for me."
"Mmm, Saint Joan," said Elle, closing her eyes and smiling. "You can have anything you like, and you don't want any of it?"
"I got everything I want," said Monica softly.
Obliviously smiling, Elle stepped forward again and fingered the strap of her tank top. No sparks jumped from her hand. She traced the strap down her shoulder and chest, her finger followed the line of white fabric across Monica's chest, barely brushing her skin, and a chill shot down her spine. "No shocks, I promise," breathed Elle. "Not even if you ask, not even if you beg...."
Monica closed her hand on Elle's wrist. "Why are you doing this?"
Elle smiled up at her. "Kiss me! Please?"
She shook her wrist a little and Elle giggled.
"Please, I promise I'll be good!" She pushed up against Monica's body and tilted her head up, her eyelids fluttering closed in anticipation.
Half-curiously, but mostly just annoyed, Monica leaned down a little to kiss her on the cheek. Before she knew it, Elle was pressing her lips against hers and wrapping her arms around her neck. She felt another chill when her fingers locked together behind her neck. When her lips parted a little, Monica allowed her own mouth to open and, in a flash, Elle's tongue was in her mouth. She felt warm and giddy from the body pushing itself insistently against her and the heat of the sudden kiss.
Elle let go of her mouth only to descent on the side of her neck and nuzzle her way up to her ear, where she stopped to whisper, "Anything you want, I swear."
Monica's hands crawled around Elle's waist and dipped under the hem of her blouse. She skimmed her fingers across the skin of her back, which caused Elle to hum a little as she sucked on her neck. Her hands moved farther up, and Elle pulled her torso back. Her hair and the front of her blouse were mussed. She trailed both her hands over Monica's neck, shoulders and chest and began provocatively opening the buttons of her blouse. Underneath it was taut, peachy skin and lacy bra, which Elle reached back to unhook.
She shrugged a little, which barely moved her shirt down her shoulders. Monica obligingly slipped it off, and then the open bra underneath it, stroking the sides of Elle's breasts on the way. She made the now-familiar humming sound, and curled down to press herself to Monica's torso, pulling up her tank top. Overcome by the heat Monica clung to her for a minute, feeling her breasts pressing against her stomach and chest. She reached back and unhooked her own bra. Before she knew it, Elle was squeezing her left breast while nibbling her neck.
She knew she was unconsciously making little sounds, though she wasn't sure what they might be. Her arms wrapped around Elle, her fingers tangled in her hair and she squeaked when Elle pinched her nipple.
"I'll fix it," Elle whispered. She pulled down her head and started sucking on the nipple. Monica moaned. She moved her hands down to the back of Elle's neck, afraid she would pull on her hair by accident if she went on like this. Elle moved her mouth to the other nipple and her hand covered the abandoned breast, making Monica moan harder and longer.
Her knees felt wobbly and she sat down, hard. The exercise mat on the floor didn't provide much padding. It wasn't really anything like a bed, but bit suited them fine as Elle climbed over her, clung to her, kissing her way up to her neck and mouth. Elle's hands moved down over her stomach and pushed helplessly at the waistband of her pants. Monica rolled her over on her side and lifted her hips off the ground, whereupon Elle pulled down her pants and underwear and Monica kicked them off.
"Wait," said Elle with a breathless giggle. She unbuttoned her dress pants and pulled them off quickly but clumsily. Naked, she laid back down next to her and throw her arms around her neck. They kissed heatedly. Monica found Elle's hand creeping between her thighs, fingering her momentarily before she pushed in one and two fingers. Moaning, she rolled back on her back and spread her thighs a little, letting Elle's fingers go where they will. Her own hand reached between Elle's legs; she was just as wet as her. Her fingers slid in easily and she heard Elle squeak as she circled her clit with her thumb.
She fisted her hand and pulled out. Elle was thrusting a third finger into her. Her hands grabbed at Elle's thighs and she bucked up against her, panting. "Oh, more," she whispered, breathing hard. Elle obliged, her hand thrusting in and out faster, harder. Monica threw her hand back and came with a soft scream.
Smiling softly, Elle spread herself over Monica's sweaty body, wrapping around her tightly. Monica's limp hands moved back towards her, she gently parted her thighs and slipped two fingers into her. Elle hummed and keened when she pumped her hand inside her, pushed against her, tightened around her and then slackened again with a soft sigh. She rested her head on Monica chest, her arms curling around her waist.
"We should do that again," said Elle sweetly. "What are you doing tomorrow?"