Ok, I have NO idea where this came from. I've been in a mad writing mode this week, aided by tons of tweeting with other authors (You know who you are ;) ) And this just sprang forth one afternoon while I was home sick, wallowing in misery. This is my first posting of anything I actually consider "Adult" so please tell me honestly what you think! I really do think Helen/John must have had some darkness between them even while in the midst of their bliss. Thank you NoCleverSig for the beta!
(Copyright 2010, MajorSam)
The first real proof of her new abilities was found after a night of frenzied lovemaking.
They had spent the night at the opera. Halfway through the first aria, Helen had placed her gloved hand on John's thigh and started stroking, so slowly, at first, that he thought it was his imagination. It wasn't. He tried to shake her hand off but couldn't without making too much of a fuss, and so was forced to sit and endure her torment for the entire three hours. He didn't even realize when the opera had ended, would have stayed frozen in his spot if Helen hadn't grabbed his hand and yanked him up, smiling at him so smugly that he knew he would have to teach her a lesson.
As soon as they'd made it back to his home, his bedroom, he'd thrown her down and without preamble ripped off any clothing barring his way, thrusting into her as soon as he possibly could. He'd driven into her with single-minded passion, and when he came, barely minutes later, he had to bite into the juncture of her neck and shoulder to keep from screaming. When his brain reconnected a while later, he'd looked over and found he'd broken her skin, made her bleed. She was already asleep by then and he hadn't the heart to wake her, choosing instead to wait until morning to beg for forgiveness.
When morning dawned, he turned her around in his arms to assess the damage and plead, but the mark was gone. His honour demanded he still ask for forgiveness, but she'd smiled shyly and quietly said, "It's ok… I liked it."
They'd continued discovering this new side of each other, silently asking the other how far they could go, but never pushing too hard. They chose instead to revel in the lovemaking they already shared – they had eternity to get to know every side of each other, why rush?
The next major turning point arrived after a particularly disastrous day. Helen had been working on a new project down in her father's "Sanctuary," a vaccine that could cure a vicious infection that seemed to plague only a certain species of abnormal. She had failed, and every one of her test subjects had died.
John tried to talk to her about it, but she'd told him to Be Quiet and make love to her. Now.
She lost herself in him that night, growling at him to pump harder, faster. He made her come quickly, but it wasn't enough, she needed more, needed to drive her frustration and anger at her failure into his body. She flipped him roughly, and started riding him so hard as if to purge herself of her guilt. He strained to comply, trying to keep up with her, but he'd had an exhausting day. No matter, he wouldn't give up, wouldn't fail to give her this release.
He changed the angle of his hips as she ground down on him and sweat covered her body but it wasn't enough to drive her thoughts away. Finally, in an act of desperation, he'd run his hands up over her sides and to her back, covering her shoulder blades. When he sensed she was at least getting close, he sank his nails into her and raked them down her back, drawing blood as she had at times done by accident to him. She cried out, arching her back at the pain and thus forcing her naked chest towards him like some erotic offering. His nails in her back like a clamp, he sat up quickly, sucking a breast into his mouth and biting down on her nipple as his fingers finished their descent. For the first time, she screamed as she came. After what seemed like eternity, the aftershocks settled and she collapsed onto him, completely spent, her mind finally free of its turmoil. He stroked her to sleep, whispering soothing words. Only after she'd entered the land of dreams did he allow himself to bring his shaking hands into view, smeared red with her blood.
Although the next morning the cuts on her back weren't completely gone, they'd become barely distinguishable pink marks. They stripped the bed of its bloody sheets in silence.
Through the next few months, as her work with abnormals grew more intense, he saw her gain many injuries that should have resulted in scars but didn't. As she catalogued her rate of recovery, her immune systems capabilities, they continued to catalogue their personal boundaries.
The next time he felt the urge to explore her incredible powers of healing, he had to stop himself. The voice in his head was growing stronger, whispering, taunting, cajoling, urging… She was receptive to an amazing amount of pain to enhance pleasure, but the things he found himself wanting to do, he couldn't. He loved her, treasured her too much to let her see the full extent of his dark nature.
She could sense something was off. She knew what he liked and how he responded to certain stimuli, so when he didn't blink as she nibbled the spot that he loved and clenched her hips just so, she asked what was wrong. He didn't respond, and she started to worry. She asked a second time and still he didn't answer. She tried to stop him from thrusting again, but it was as though he didn't realize she was there. He was too heavy for her to throw, his long, lean body pinning her down.
She slapped him.
Finally, he snapped out of it, his eyes connecting with hers, disoriented for a moment, until they grew wide in perfect clarity. She tried to ask what was wrong, called his name, "John, please." But he pulled out of her with an anguished cry and fell off the bed, grabbing his clothes on the way to the door, tripping to put them on before he left. She called after him, hurt and confused, clutching a sheet to her chest. But he ran away, blindly.
He had wanted to kill her.
His body knew what to do to please her and did so without thought, allowing his mind to wander to thoughts of blood and screaming. Helen fell apart in his arms, but what would happen if she actually fell apart? Her warm blood, spurting out to coat his face… When her slap had brought him back to reality, he was sickened. He wanted to scream, hating himself. Above all he needed to get away from her, far away, before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life.
That night, in a cold, dark alley as his hands completed their first, fatal dance, Jack smiled.
So... what's the verdict? PLEASE let me know, I live and breathe by reviews, and I'm especially nervous about this one, as it was adult AND dark...!