A child of several spirited Twitter conversations, "The 12 Days of Sexmas" marathon is an ode to Helen and John. The idea is very simple: Throughout the month of December, a group of authors will be posting stories that include: Helen/John, Sex/Smut, and Christmas. Any other details are up to the author! Good/Evil John, Established/New relationship, drabble or drama… Whatever! We hope you enjoy our festive offerings. If anyone wants to jump into the fray and contribute, please contact MajorSam (look her up here or on ) for details! Enjoy!
Authors Note: I imagined Helen's hair in this as similar to her hair in the "Kush" flashback, in the carriage. Once again, this is before John goes evil. I don't own any of the characters, but the ideas are sure mine ;) Happy Holidays!
The 12 Days of Sexmas
"Christmas in Corsets"
A Merry F****** Christmas Indeed
(Copyright MajorSam, 2010)
"But John," Helen weakly protested as he led her up the stairs, "It's not even Christmas yet!"
He didn't let go of her hand as he opened the door to his room and led her inside, closing it as they entered. He grinned at her, and as usual she couldn't help grinning in return, intrigued by the mischievous glint in his eye.
"Am I not allowed to gift my lady with an early present?" he asked, taking her soft hands in his own larger ones.
John had gone to great lengths to make this evening special for her. He'd led her on a lovely walk through the snowy gardens of London, dinner at a favourite restaurant, a play at the local theatre, and dancing afterwards. At a friends' house, with a chaperone, of course. At this point, Helen wasn't sure what more he could give her. The entire evening had been wonderful, but also painful. So much time with John, but she'd been unable to touch him, kiss him. They had reached intimacy months ago, yet she still found herself wanting him every moment of every day. Every night she lay with him she learned something new, and her mind was desperate to continue exploring, learning, experiencing. Helen Magnus was not one to do things by halves and was determined to conquer this new world. And there was no better teacher than John Druitt. She would catch herself thinking of him in the most inopportune moments, blushing at herself for her improper thoughts. She was not prepared to give up their activities, but she was still sometimes shocked at her willingness to break all societal rules and principles when it concerned John. He just had that effect on her.
The man in question broke her reverie as he pulled her into his arms, burying his face into her soft blonde curls.
"I have wanted to do this all night," he confessed, holding her tight and breathing her in. She encircled her arms around him in return.
"And I have been wanting you to," she said, nuzzling his neck with her nose. It was still cold from the winter air outside, and he gasped, pulling away slightly.
"I'm sorry," she said as she ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.
"Not at all, my dear," he softly reassured her, moving his hands to cup her face and turn her gaze up to him. "I'll just have to warm you up," he grinned, leaning down and kissing her solidly on the nose. She giggled, but he kept his grip on her firm so she couldn't escape as he rained great smacking kisses all over her face. The last stop on his journey was her lips, which he took eagerly into his, never tiring of their soft sweetness. She sighed into him, quickly opening her mouth to tangle her tongue with his. John had told her not long ago that she had mastered the art of the kiss, and she was happy to show off her new found skills.
She pulled off her gloves and let her shawl drop to the floor as she raised her hands to his neck, feeling the heat of his skin. He moved his hands to her dress, unlacing and unbuttoning the jacket-façade of the front, then the back, peeling down the tight fitting sleeves and loosening the fitted waist. He moved back and helped her step out of the thick gown. It was followed, as quickly as possible, by her underskirts and petticoats. A rather long and frustrating process, but worth it in the end. As soon as she was somewhat free to move, unencumbered by her heavy winter clothing, her fingers flew to throw off his jacket. Soon they were standing in front of each other, breathing quickly, looking hungrily on the skin they'd been craving all day. John was still in his underwear, but stopped undressing, gaping instead at Helen. Despite the cold, she'd opted against a chemise today, so all she wore was a light, pastel pink corset, and stockings, held up by garter belts. Having foregone any kind of bloomers, her most intimate parts were bared to his gaze. He was utterly shocked that she'd gone so far, but his breath was taken away by her beauty. She had obviously hoped that tonight's romance would end like this. She blushed, for just a moment, before grinning slyly.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
The look he gave her, unable to form words, was answer enough. She kept grinning, proud of herself, as she pressed herself against his bare chest, running her hands over him. He snapped out of his daze, took hold of her waist, and lifted her right off the floor to taste her lips again. She had removed her shoes and was now a few inches shorter; he didn't want her to hurt her neck craning up to meet him. She grabbed onto his broad upper back, underneath his arms, and wrapped her long legs around his to keep herself steady as he walked them over to his bed, carefully climbing on top, resting on his knees, still holding her. She tore her mouth away from his for a moment to raise an eyebrow, looking at him with passion-soaked eyes.
"Impressive, Mr. Druitt," she praised. She danced her fingers lightly down his sides, loving the way he quivered, before hooking them into his waistband. He lifted her off of him just long enough to remove his final piece of clothing. Once it was out of the way he settled her in his lap, taking hold of her hips and pressing her against his groin. She shuddered and gasped at the feel of his hardened length against her bare skin, moving her hips so that he rubbed through her wet heat. John let out a pained groan, and tightened his hands on her, forcing her to stop.
"Sorry," she whispered, not really meaning it. He gave a strained smile of forgiveness, and she moved her hands to the eyelets of her corset. Immediately, John stopped her.
"Leave it on," he commanded. She frowned a bit. He gave her a low smile. "Please, Helen," he implored, eyes raking over her, becoming even darker. He seemed to be incredibly enthused by the idea, and she filed this away for later.
"John, I can hardly breathe as it is," she gently reminded him. He snapped his eyes up from her breasts, which were normally full, but now pushed up and almost spilling out from the clothing in question.
"Of course, sorry dear," he said, conceding to loosen the ties at her back enough so that she could breathe a little easier. She thanked him by way of another kiss, while reaching down and giving him a few hard strokes, spreading around the moisture she found already there, a mixture of hers and his own. She pulled her hand away much sooner than he'd have wished.
"My stockings?" she asked. She was going to accept whatever he desired, and John's heart swelled with love.
"Leave them on too," he answered, ducking his eyes down for a moment. Helen pressed her lips together in a shy smile. She then brought her hands to cup his face and make him look at her.
"Never be afraid to ask of me what you want, my love," she told him. "There's nothing I won't do for you."
He thought his chest would burst with the pounding of his heart. He couldn't believe this brilliant, gorgeous woman had chosen him.
"Leave your hair up too?" he asked quietly, hoping he wasn't pushing too much.
"Of course," she smiled. She climbed off of him and lay down on her back, arms extended above her head on the pillows and legs demurely pressed together, knees facing to the side.
"Whatever you want," she repeated. John had to close his eyes to the vision she presented, breathing deeply and calming his raging desire. He wanted to give her a present, but instead she was gifting him more than he could have ever dreamed.
Helen had completely forgotten that John had planned to give her something, so was surprised when he grabbed her hands and pulled her up again. He placed his hands on her shoulders, giving her a look that said Stay, as he took the space she had just occupied on the bed, lying down. She sat beside him, looking down, confused. She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on, but he spoke before she could ask.
"Helen," he began, "You mean the world to me." Helen bit her lip against the rush of emotions his words caused. "But sometimes the rest of the world doesn't look as fondly onto you as I do," he continued, a dark look in his eye. "They do not understand you, your intelligence, your desire to learn and become more than what society expects or allows. But I want you to know that this is one of the things I love most about you. You are truly the most unique, incredible woman I have ever and will ever know."
"John," she interrupted, never one to take compliments well, "You don't have to…"
"Please, Helen," he said, taking on of her hands and placing it over his chest, his heart. "I need to say this."
She nodded her head in silent consent.
"It pains me that others do not give you the respect that you deserve. You could well be capable of ruling all of England if you set your mind to it."
"Though I am unable to force society to accept and cherish you as I do," he said with a grimace, still wishing he could, "I can at least let you be ruler of my heart. And body."
She still didn't understand what he was saying until he spread his arms out as she had for him, and raised his eyebrows. She gulped.
John had always been the leader in the bedroom. He had patiently and sweetly taught her all he knew of the human anatomy and how to manipulate it to it to achieve maximum pleasure. She had learned with her usual voracity but had always accepted the submissive role. It seemed that the teacher thought the student had finished her studies.
He confirmed her dawning comprehension.
"You have been told what to do, how, and with who since you were born. To me, you are not a lesser being. You are not even an equal. You are my lady and my queen."
Helen closed her eyes against the welling of tears. Everything he said was true. She had fought tooth and nail against the restrictions put on women in both their personal and professional lives. She knew it would be many years before her battle with society would bear fruit. John was giving her their bedroom, and his presence, as a place to finally be free, to live out her potential to be the entire woman she could be. It was better than any materialistic gift he could ever give her.
"John…" she managed to breathe. He smiled, eyes filled with joy, and pressed her hand against his heart.
A tiny sob escaped her as she leaned down and claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss. She knew no words that could express what she was feeling. She was determined to use his "gift" to show him instead. But before she showed him what he meant to her, she wanted him to express all he'd just said in action rather than words. She started to move up his body but hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling scandalized by her own desires. No matter how forward-thinking she was, some measure of propriety still remained ingrained. She took a deep breath, and shook her head. If she demanded full honesty and acceptance from him, she should do the same. No shame.
She crawled up his body until her knees framed his shoulders, spreading her open right above him. She didn't have to tell him what to do – he took hold of her legs and brought her down to him, meeting her with his mouth halfway, eliciting an immediate moan as his tongue swept through her sensitive folds. She tried desperately to stay aloft, to not smother him, but the way he worked his strong tongue through her was too much, and she was soon rocking against him. When he thrust his tongue straight up into her, she mindlessly thrust down, trying to get him deeper. Only a tiny voice in the corner of her mind remained, hoping he could breathe. Her hands tried to cling to his head, in his hair, to keep herself somewhat steady, but the angle was awkward. She reached out and grabbed the headboard in white knuckled grip as he pulled out his tongue, scraping his teeth over her on his way up to her clit, pulling it into his mouth and sucking vigorously. Sweat pooled between her breasts as she cried out, shivering. He continued to play with her hard and fast, and soon she was throwing her head back, arching her spine as she held onto him for dear life, mind flying apart, white lightning searing her vision.
She only moved when she heard, and felt, John mumbling something against her, making her realize she was still sitting atop him.
"Dear god!" she proclaimed, quickly sitting up and scooting her way down, taking his face in her hands to look at him.
"I'm so sorry! Are you all right?" she asked. He started to laugh at her worried look.
"My dear… I am more than all right," he said, licking his lips, trying to clear his face of her juices.
Still pulsing in the aftermath, she leaned down and licked his cheek, tasting herself, groaning. She hovered just above him, resting on her elbows, which were placed beside his neck as she threaded her fingers into his thick brown hair. When she was finished cleaning his face, she massaged his scalp as her tongue plundered into his mouth. He lay pliant to her touch throughout, eagerly anticipating what she would do to him. After several minutes, she let her body fall onto his, dragging her lips away from his as she slid her body down until they were hip-to-hip, grinding herself against him. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, watching the way he gritted his teeth in effort to not cry out.
She wanted to change that.
She moved back up his body, gripping his jaw firmly in one hand, forcing him to open the eyes he had closed. She arched a delicate eyebrow, and he nodded, understanding he was not to close them again. She wore a half smile, a satisfied smirk that he'd never seen on her before. If dominance was what put that look on her face, he would follow her around on a leash. She let the hand on his jaw soften and slide down his neck to his chest. She tweaked his nipple as she started to glide her body down his once more. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, daring him to look down at the cleavage spilling out of her corset. He wondered what she would do if he did, but didn't dare attempt that on this first exploration of her power. She paused for a moment, reaching down and touching his inner thighs, making him jump. She gently kneaded his lean muscles, working up and down his legs while avoiding the crest where he really wanted her, needed her. He started to sweat with desire, a muscle in his forehead twitching as he tried to keep his eyes on hers and his hands by his sides. This was his gift to her; he would not let his own longing intervene. It was an exercise in self-control.
Helen was impressed and frustrated by his self-restraint. She leaned down even further, continuing her journey downward, her corset brushing along his erection as she did. A barely audible groan reached her ears. Getting there…
When she was face to face with his hips, she stopped, and he held his breath, waiting.
His thighs started to tremble as she lay still, observing him. Every time she breathed out, her breath washed over him. It was excruciating. She leaned a little bit closer, and licked her lips. Her lush, blonde curls drifted onto his leg, blanketing him in their softness. Sweat beaded and ran down his face.
"Helen…" his voice was strained.
"Yes, dear?" she asked, feigning innocence.
What had he done! He was unleashing a monster, surely.
"Please…" he quietly begged. She rewarded him with a beaming smile. He attempted a weak grin. She finally took pity on him, grabbing the base of his cock and covering him with her mouth. He cried out as her hot mouth descended, taking him fully in. She sucked in her cheeks, holding him tight as she slowly let him out. She swirled her tongue around his tip as she finished, then looked up at his face to see the effects she'd had. A hand had moved to his forehead, clenched as he breathed heavily.
"John," she barked, and his eyes snapped open, looking down at her.
She held his eyes as she leaned down and nibbled lightly at the head, and he cried out again. She kissed the spot she'd bitten, then licked it to soothe it further. She moved down his entire length in this fashion, nipping, kissing, and licking. She held his eyes the entire time, until his own watered with the pain of not falling apart right there. When he felt himself nearing the brink, he stopped her.
"Helen, please!" he gasped. "I want to be inside you tonight."
She paused in mid-kiss, keeping her lips against him as she contemplated this. She throbbed with her own need, but enjoyed seeing him in distress so very much… His pleading look, coupled with the arousal leaking down to the top of her stockings, finally convinced her to grant his wish. She moved to straddle him, and his cock strained up to meet her. She grabbed him, holding him still as she raised herself above him. He couldn't help but move his hands to her hips, helping guide her, and she let him.
In one slow, steady move, she lowered herself down onto him, jaw hanging slack as he filled her, completed her. She held herself still for a moment once she'd fully taken him in, trying to wrap her brain around this new angle of penetration, this exquisite feeling or pleasure and pain. The sweet ache in her sex grew, and she started to move above him. It took a while to find a rhythm, but she finally did, and once she did, she let John aid her further. His strong arms helped lift her off of him when her thighs started trembling with exertion, ramming her down onto him just before he slipped out of her. She was sweating, the restricting corset making her slightly lightheaded with lack of oxygen. Euphorically so. When her pleasure soaked mind reminded her to breath, she sucked in deeply, and her breasts heaved. He could see a hint of her dusky rose nipples peeking out from beneath the light pink material. He ran a hand roughly up her side, delving it into her corset, burrowing its way between her skin and the garment, grasping her breast and pulling it out, over the top. He forced the corset down her torso a bit so that it didn't bite so painfully into the underside of her breast as he pulled her nipple between his fingers, pinching it and rolling it between them until she was crying out with every touch, slamming herself onto him with all her strength. She moved like a woman possessed, and with innate skill, she twisted and circled her hips until she couldn't stand it anymore.
With a final thrust, she came on top of him, screaming lightly, as much as she could with what little air she could find. The feel of her, the sight of her poised above him, mindless with ecstasy, his own personal goddess, John let himself go, grabbing her hips in bruising enthusiasm as he burst inside of her, yelling out her name. When Helen could no longer hold herself upright, boneless in completion, she let herself fall onto his slick chest. They lay together, panting, for what seemed like hours, unable to think or speak. When coherence reappeared, Helen's mind whirled with the possibilities this new power of hers could yield. John felt her breathing change and swore he could hear the gears turning in her mind.
"Please tell me you're not already thinking of next time," he said, only half serious.
She laughed and planted a kiss on his chest, looking up at him while resting her chin where she'd just touched. An evil tinge touched her sparkling eyes, and he groaned.
"It's your fault," she objected. "It was your idea to give me the best Christmas present I've ever received, John Druitt. Now you have to live with the consequences." She winked at him, and despite his protests, he couldn't wait to see what her brilliant and studious mind would next conceive.
It was true, John thought. It was far better to give than to receive.