Sanctuary Fic - Untitled
Title: [Untitled]
Author:scifichick2012
Rating: Mature
Genre: Romance
Spoilers: Brief mention of something unimportant from ‘Haunted.’
Characters: Helen/John
Summary: A brief one-shot when Helen wakes in the night.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing ;)
Author’s Note: Quote is from Nietzsche’s ‘Beyond Good and Evil.’
In the early hours before dawn, a wailing shattered the night as two police cars chased their way down the street outside, tires sloshing against the damp pavement. Through the open window came the smell of rain, of something like wet ashes and early spring air. Helen sat up suddenly in bed, wearing a tank top and panties, her hair tied back in a loose braid. For the first time in days she had been asleep.
Drawing her knees up to her chest she closed her eyes and listened again. The whole Sanctuary was holding its breath in its sleep, wading through the last hour before the sun would peek over the horizon. Or maybe not. Outside her window, the city lights reflected on the bottom of a layer of clouds.
Helen felt the floorboards creak and bend under her feet when she stood, walking to the door, then out into the darkened hall. As a child she remembered being afraid to roam the house at night, but here she knew exactly where all the monsters were.
Finally she came to a stop at the top of the grand staircase. Leaning against the wall, Helen stared down into the deep blackness of the unlit entrance hall.
“If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. What do you see down there, Helen?”
She let out a little gasp and turned to see John standing behind her, his form materializing from the moonlight and shadow. “Bloody hell, don’t do that.” She turned her back to him again.
“I trust you were able to tend to the woman?”
“Musa, yes, we finished with her earlier.” Helen tried not to flinch when she sensed him moving closer to her. Glancing to her left, she could see their reflections in one of the tall leaded glass windows that faced out over the obsidian surface of the river.
John tipped his head to the side. She could not see the details of his face but she knew the expression he wore. He moved one hand forward, running his fingers over the bare skin of her leg. He may as well have shocked her.
“Don’t touch me.”
“What’s wrong?” John murmured, his deep voice far too close to her ear. “Afraid you won’t want me to stop?”
“This is hardly the time or the place,” Helen said, turning to face him and brushing his hand aside. The worst part of it was that what he said was true, standing here before him, so exposed, so close, she felt herself suddenly wanting to remember that deep ache she used to feel every time he looked at her. “You should be resting, it’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Helen.”
“I’m going back to bed.” She stepped past him, but suddenly his arms were around her, not an embrace but a fierce grip, holding her back against him, catching her mid step and all but lifting her off the ground. She’d forgotten how strong he was, despite his thin build. The wind knocked from her, she pressed her head back against his chest, closing her eyes and struggling to take a breath.
John pressed his lips against her ear. “There’s an emptiness inside of you that’s been there since she left, that’s what you saw looking into the shadows just now. It’s been there since we put the serum in ourselves, since we conceived her in your bed so many decades ago, and now that’s she’s gone what do we have left?”
She stumbled forward a foot or so when he released her just as suddenly. Stunned, she looked at him.
“Parents talk when they lose their children. We never talked.”
“You left to go seek revenge!” Helen hissed in a loud stage whisper. “You waved the right to feel anything about this, to know even a fraction of what I feel!”
“And yet I’m the only one who has any idea.”
Helen hung her head slightly, and walked forward. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, her hands on his chest. “You’re not the man I fell in love with,” she mumbled into his shirt.
“No, I am the one who left innocent women lying in dark alleys with their life blood ebbing out over the cobble stones. It was beautiful, Helen. The way it caught the moonlight on my fingertips, it made me think of those nights when I would slip into your bed and slide my fingers into…”
“Stop it, John.”
His lips brushed against her temple. “Just…reminiscing.”
“You’re not allowed to do that either.”
She clamped her hand over his mouth an inch from hers and gave him a warning look. Helen could feel him smiling under her palm, but his eyes never changed. One of his hands brushed against her breast, she grabbed his wrist, but his other hand was between her legs, pressing against her now burning core and she gave in, whimpering into the darkness.
“John-!” She kept her hand over his mouth when he freed both hands and walked her backwards against the cold glass of the window. Helen was forced to grip at his shoulder with her other hand for support as he pressed against her. He was straining in his pants, she could feel it, and she whimpered louder.
There wasn’t much of a windowsill for her to balance on, so she was forced to remove her hand from his mouth and grab onto both of John’s shoulders for support. His hands were under her shirt, dancing and exploring.
“You’ve changed,” he panted, urgency given away by his tone as he lowered his mouth to her chest nipping at her breast through the thin material of her tank top. His hands moved, teasing at her panties.
Helen laughed breathlessly. “I’m not an innocent little girl anymore, John.”
“Tell me,” John looked up at her suddenly, eyes reflecting the lights from the city outside. “How many have touched you?” He managed to tug her underwear down and she cried out when he suddenly pushed two fingers into her. “How many have been inside you, Helen?!”
“Many, John! Good lord…” She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut.
“My god, you are beautiful.” John’s lips descended on hers, forcing her mouth open and after a moment she gave in, silent even as her head was pushed suddenly against the glass behind her. He pushed his whole body against her, fingers pressing deeper as though to say you are mine!
Not that she would ever forget.
He pushed her tank top up with his free hand, exposing her breasts. Helen wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he lowered his head again, letting out a low keen when his lips closed around her nipple. She was arched in an uncomfortable position, barely supported, clinging to him. She wanted him to hold her, but she didn’t want this to end. She may have changed, but he still knew her.
Breathing heavily John straightened, wrapping one arm around her waist and fumbling with the catch of his pants. Helen made a frustrated whimper at the sudden lack of his fingers within her, then looked down when she felt his pants fall and the whimper turned to an impatient growl.
John looked up at her and laughed, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her so that her moans were lost when he finally slipped into her. He paused then began to move at a maddeningly slow pace, fingers curling in her hair as he held her close.
Helen dropped her head to his shoulder, running her hands up under the back of his shirt so she could feel the muscles of his back shifting intoxicatingly as he began to move his hips in short, sharp thrusts. His breath was heavy in her ear, words barely more than a whisper.
“Helen, please…”
“No,” Helen grunted. She rolled her hips against him, eliciting a moan and gripping at the back of his head, hitting his skin a little harder than she’d intended. John bit at her neck and Helen hit him again, on purpose this time. “God, don’t you dare…!” she hissed when she felt him slowing.
A low growl escaped John’s throat and she felt the familiar tensing running through his form. She twisted her hips, opened her eyes, balanced on one fragile moment between the light of the city behind her, the darkness of the hall, the cold of the glass and the heat of the body pressed against her. She barely noticed when he pressed his mouth to her shoulder, stifling a cry.
It all broke when Helen’s own body tightened and she let her head fall back, crying out into the still air, nails digging into his skin as she bucked against him a few times before falling still. They stared at each other with wide eyes, breathing heavily, unable to speak.
John put his hands to her cheeks, brushing his thumbs under her eyes to wipe away unshed tears before he slipped his hand under her chin, lifting it. He placed a soft, incredibly tender kiss on her lips.
The stillness was back, though the darkness had taken on a heady, warm feeling now. Helen watched John step back and straighten his clothes. For a moment she might have been a young woman again, watching John in the darkness of her room, back when well-behaved unmarried ladies wouldn’t do such things.
More sirens howled outside, and it had begun to rain again, drops splashing against the windows. Helen shivered and John reached out to gently rub his hands over her arms. He was different now, somehow, but she pulled away, glancing at him one last time before she turned her back and continued walking.
Author:scifichick2012
Rating: Mature
Genre: Romance
Spoilers: Brief mention of something unimportant from ‘Haunted.’
Characters: Helen/John
Summary: A brief one-shot when Helen wakes in the night.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing ;)
Author’s Note: Quote is from Nietzsche’s ‘Beyond Good and Evil.’
In the early hours before dawn, a wailing shattered the night as two police cars chased their way down the street outside, tires sloshing against the damp pavement. Through the open window came the smell of rain, of something like wet ashes and early spring air. Helen sat up suddenly in bed, wearing a tank top and panties, her hair tied back in a loose braid. For the first time in days she had been asleep.
Drawing her knees up to her chest she closed her eyes and listened again. The whole Sanctuary was holding its breath in its sleep, wading through the last hour before the sun would peek over the horizon. Or maybe not. Outside her window, the city lights reflected on the bottom of a layer of clouds.
Helen felt the floorboards creak and bend under her feet when she stood, walking to the door, then out into the darkened hall. As a child she remembered being afraid to roam the house at night, but here she knew exactly where all the monsters were.
Finally she came to a stop at the top of the grand staircase. Leaning against the wall, Helen stared down into the deep blackness of the unlit entrance hall.
“If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. What do you see down there, Helen?”
She let out a little gasp and turned to see John standing behind her, his form materializing from the moonlight and shadow. “Bloody hell, don’t do that.” She turned her back to him again.
“I trust you were able to tend to the woman?”
“Musa, yes, we finished with her earlier.” Helen tried not to flinch when she sensed him moving closer to her. Glancing to her left, she could see their reflections in one of the tall leaded glass windows that faced out over the obsidian surface of the river.
John tipped his head to the side. She could not see the details of his face but she knew the expression he wore. He moved one hand forward, running his fingers over the bare skin of her leg. He may as well have shocked her.
“Don’t touch me.”
“What’s wrong?” John murmured, his deep voice far too close to her ear. “Afraid you won’t want me to stop?”
“This is hardly the time or the place,” Helen said, turning to face him and brushing his hand aside. The worst part of it was that what he said was true, standing here before him, so exposed, so close, she felt herself suddenly wanting to remember that deep ache she used to feel every time he looked at her. “You should be resting, it’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Helen.”
“I’m going back to bed.” She stepped past him, but suddenly his arms were around her, not an embrace but a fierce grip, holding her back against him, catching her mid step and all but lifting her off the ground. She’d forgotten how strong he was, despite his thin build. The wind knocked from her, she pressed her head back against his chest, closing her eyes and struggling to take a breath.
John pressed his lips against her ear. “There’s an emptiness inside of you that’s been there since she left, that’s what you saw looking into the shadows just now. It’s been there since we put the serum in ourselves, since we conceived her in your bed so many decades ago, and now that’s she’s gone what do we have left?”
She stumbled forward a foot or so when he released her just as suddenly. Stunned, she looked at him.
“Parents talk when they lose their children. We never talked.”
“You left to go seek revenge!” Helen hissed in a loud stage whisper. “You waved the right to feel anything about this, to know even a fraction of what I feel!”
“And yet I’m the only one who has any idea.”
Helen hung her head slightly, and walked forward. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, her hands on his chest. “You’re not the man I fell in love with,” she mumbled into his shirt.
“No, I am the one who left innocent women lying in dark alleys with their life blood ebbing out over the cobble stones. It was beautiful, Helen. The way it caught the moonlight on my fingertips, it made me think of those nights when I would slip into your bed and slide my fingers into…”
“Stop it, John.”
His lips brushed against her temple. “Just…reminiscing.”
“You’re not allowed to do that either.”
She clamped her hand over his mouth an inch from hers and gave him a warning look. Helen could feel him smiling under her palm, but his eyes never changed. One of his hands brushed against her breast, she grabbed his wrist, but his other hand was between her legs, pressing against her now burning core and she gave in, whimpering into the darkness.
“John-!” She kept her hand over his mouth when he freed both hands and walked her backwards against the cold glass of the window. Helen was forced to grip at his shoulder with her other hand for support as he pressed against her. He was straining in his pants, she could feel it, and she whimpered louder.
There wasn’t much of a windowsill for her to balance on, so she was forced to remove her hand from his mouth and grab onto both of John’s shoulders for support. His hands were under her shirt, dancing and exploring.
“You’ve changed,” he panted, urgency given away by his tone as he lowered his mouth to her chest nipping at her breast through the thin material of her tank top. His hands moved, teasing at her panties.
Helen laughed breathlessly. “I’m not an innocent little girl anymore, John.”
“Tell me,” John looked up at her suddenly, eyes reflecting the lights from the city outside. “How many have touched you?” He managed to tug her underwear down and she cried out when he suddenly pushed two fingers into her. “How many have been inside you, Helen?!”
“Many, John! Good lord…” She bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut.
“My god, you are beautiful.” John’s lips descended on hers, forcing her mouth open and after a moment she gave in, silent even as her head was pushed suddenly against the glass behind her. He pushed his whole body against her, fingers pressing deeper as though to say you are mine!
Not that she would ever forget.
He pushed her tank top up with his free hand, exposing her breasts. Helen wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he lowered his head again, letting out a low keen when his lips closed around her nipple. She was arched in an uncomfortable position, barely supported, clinging to him. She wanted him to hold her, but she didn’t want this to end. She may have changed, but he still knew her.
Breathing heavily John straightened, wrapping one arm around her waist and fumbling with the catch of his pants. Helen made a frustrated whimper at the sudden lack of his fingers within her, then looked down when she felt his pants fall and the whimper turned to an impatient growl.
John looked up at her and laughed, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her so that her moans were lost when he finally slipped into her. He paused then began to move at a maddeningly slow pace, fingers curling in her hair as he held her close.
Helen dropped her head to his shoulder, running her hands up under the back of his shirt so she could feel the muscles of his back shifting intoxicatingly as he began to move his hips in short, sharp thrusts. His breath was heavy in her ear, words barely more than a whisper.
“Helen, please…”
“No,” Helen grunted. She rolled her hips against him, eliciting a moan and gripping at the back of his head, hitting his skin a little harder than she’d intended. John bit at her neck and Helen hit him again, on purpose this time. “God, don’t you dare…!” she hissed when she felt him slowing.
A low growl escaped John’s throat and she felt the familiar tensing running through his form. She twisted her hips, opened her eyes, balanced on one fragile moment between the light of the city behind her, the darkness of the hall, the cold of the glass and the heat of the body pressed against her. She barely noticed when he pressed his mouth to her shoulder, stifling a cry.
It all broke when Helen’s own body tightened and she let her head fall back, crying out into the still air, nails digging into his skin as she bucked against him a few times before falling still. They stared at each other with wide eyes, breathing heavily, unable to speak.
John put his hands to her cheeks, brushing his thumbs under her eyes to wipe away unshed tears before he slipped his hand under her chin, lifting it. He placed a soft, incredibly tender kiss on her lips.
The stillness was back, though the darkness had taken on a heady, warm feeling now. Helen watched John step back and straighten his clothes. For a moment she might have been a young woman again, watching John in the darkness of her room, back when well-behaved unmarried ladies wouldn’t do such things.
More sirens howled outside, and it had begun to rain again, drops splashing against the windows. Helen shivered and John reached out to gently rub his hands over her arms. He was different now, somehow, but she pulled away, glancing at him one last time before she turned her back and continued walking.