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!
The 12 Days of Sexmas so far:
Prologue: Naughty and Nice, by NoCleverSig
Part 1: Peppermint Twist, by NoCleverSig
Part 2: Christmas in Corsets, by MajorSam
Part 3: The Wine Tasting, by NocleverSig
Part 4: Biggie's Gift of the Nubbin, by lady deadlock
Part 5: Eggnog and Embers, by MajorSam
Part 6: The Kissing Bough, by NoCleverSig
Part 7: Cottage Christmas, by Steph_Schell|
Part 8: Not a Creature Was Stirring, by MajorSam
Part 9: Catacomb Christmas, by ladydeadlock
Part 10: Snowballs, by MajorSam
The 12 Days of Sexmas
"A Merry F****** Christmas Indeed"
Copyright 2010, MajorSam
Helen's breath was deep but quiet. Her eyes were lidded with concentration, her focus sharp. If she were distracted, even for a second, it could mean failure, and that was unacceptable. She held her weapon close, knees bent, coiled and ready for attack. With the grace of a panther, she slid her body along the corner of the building, knees bent, quickly scanning the landscape of the West side of the structure. The moonlight was intense, which made for good visibility, but also caused the heavy layer of snow to reflect back at her. Shadows sprang up and leapt from hidden corners. She had to work hard to distinguish illusion from reality. She paused, honing in on her sense of hearing, aware of every creak and crackle of snow shifting, animals moving. Suddenly, from behind her, she heard a sound like nothing in nature. There was no question as to what the strange discordant noise was. She spun around as fast as she could, but it was too late. The weapon hit her straight in the face, and she dropped to the ground, blinded. In the heat of the assault she lost her weapon and desperately worked her glove covered hands against her eyes, trying to clear them, but it was no use. She heard her attacker advance on her, and within seconds he was hovering over her. She had failed.
With a sigh of frustration, she raised her hands above her head in surrender. Her assailant grinned darkly in the moonlight, moving even closer, so that she could practically feel his chest expanding towards her as he breathed in his victory.
"You never had a chance," his deep voice resonated.
Helen felt fire flood her veins. Her arms flew to her sides, and she shot to a standing position before he could blink.
"You cheated!" she yelled.
"Perhaps," he mocked her.
"Perhaps!" she retorted, enraged. "There is absolutely no question! We agreed at the beginning of this that there was to be NO use of any special abilities and if they were used, that…" she was suddenly cut off as her attacker grabbed her by the waist, forcing her forward to crush his lips against hers. She struggled against him, but it was useless. He was simply too strong, even for her. After a few moments, she gave up, going limp against him, but as soon as she did, he pulled back. He smiled down at her.
"You really don't know how gorgeous you are when you're angry, do you?" he asked. Helen huffed indignantly.
"Please tell me you didn't plan all this just to get a rise out of me," she glared at him.
He smiled innocently, boyishly, and Helen found herself suddenly incapable of anger.
"John!" she said, incredulously, smacking him on the arm. He laughed, catching her hand and holding it.
"I'm sorry, darling, but honestly, you are just too much fun to play with," he offered in his defense. Helen's eyes sparkled with rage and amusement. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child.
"I told you I didn't want you teleporting!"
"Yes, well… I was bored of the game."
Helen's jaw dropped, slightly.
"Bored! We had barely even started!"
John cast his gaze downwards, shuffling a foot about in the snow. Helen narrowed her eyes at him as she finished wiping the snow from her face. He certainly had good aim.
"You never really wanted to play, did you?" she observed. He raised his eyes to look at her, imploringly.
"I'm sorry," he offered. Helen sighed.
"Well why didn't you just tell me so before we started?" she asked. John looked at her, askance.
"And disappoint you! On the day after Christmas!" he looked horrified at the idea. She fought to smother another smile.
"It would have been ok…"
John raised an eyebrow at her, remaining silent. After a few moments of silent scrutiny she sighed and flung her hands in the air.
"Alright, it wouldn't have been ok," she admitted, before softening. "Thank you for indulging me." She brought a gloved hand up to his cheek and traced it softly, smiling. John grinned at her, glad that he had done the right thing. When she let her hand fall from his face, he caught it in his own, and squeezed lightly.
"May I kiss you now?" he asked. Helen laughed lightly.
"Yes, you may."
He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her thickly jacketed waist and pulling her in to touch his lips to hers. Hers were rather cold from the snowball she'd taken to the face, but he worked diligently to warm them. She smiled against his mouth and brought her arms up around his neck. The next thing he knew, icy wetness was sliding down his neck, and he broke apart from her, yelling out.
"Helen!" he shouted, cringing and shivering.
"I haven't had a worthy snowball fight opponent in decades, John," she grinned at him, backing away. "I won't let this chance pass me by!"
She suddenly turned around and sprinted away, rounding a corner to disappear behind the south facing wall of the Sanctuary. John took off like a bullet after her.
What ensued next was nothing short of an epic battle of wills and elements. John found himself completely immersed in the thrill of the chase, the rush of snow whizzing past his head as she put to use her impressive skills as a hunter. He didn't know how long they ran around her home, making tracks in the new fallen snow. He stayed true to his early promise of not teleporting, though he was sorely tempted to do so. How nice it would be to appear right on top of her, tackling her down onto the snow and… well. No, he wouldn't take advantage of her like that. It wasn't fair to use his abnormal abilities to beat her.
Just as John was thinking these noble thoughts, he felt an iron wall slam into him from behind. He barely had time to cry out in surprise as he pitched forward, falling face first into a snow bank. A heavy weight pinned him down for a few moments before mercifully moving off of him. He slowly extricated himself and tried to glare at the offender. The sight of his snowy face only served to send Helen into a fit of laughter. A lean, bald, snow-bearded Santa Claus! The sight of her cold-flushed cheeks and merry mood caused a fit of mirth in him, and John found himself laughing right along with her, falling back into the snow bank. She slunk an arm behind his back and fell down on top of him, still shaking with amusement. They held each other, not feeling the biting cold of snow beneath them as they laughed, small clouds of steam rising from their mouths as they did so. After many minutes, their laughter faded to sporadic hiccups of giggling. Finally, Helen sighed, resting her head against his chest.
"Oh god, John," she said, "I haven't had a snowball fight like that in, well… I don't know that I've ever had one so intense!"
John chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest and into her cheek.
"Nor have I."
Helen stilled for a moment, before setting her chin on his chest and looking up at him with a quizzical expression.
"Have you ever had a snowball fight?" she asked.
John sobered, and became thoughtful. One just couldn't have a snow fight in the middle of London in the late 1800's. It would have been improper on too many levels. Children might have been able to get away with it, but not upstanding citizens such as themselves. After he'd taken his flight of the city, surrendering to his madness, he'd had other things on his mind. Not once in his 80 years as a madman had he had the inclination to throw balls of snow at another person, not that he'd had a colleague or friend to "play" with anyway.
Helen realized that she had triggered a rather morose introspection in her lover and immediately felt regret. Here he was, not wanting to ruin her holiday fun, only to have her ruin his.
"John," she said gently, prodding him with a wool-wrapped finger. He slowly looked down at her, but his eyes were still distant. "We can make up for lost snow-fights later," she said. "Right now, there's something else I've always wanted to try." This piqued John's interest, breaking him out of his reverie. He raised an eyebrow at her in question, to which she grinned. She planted her hands firmly on his chest and pushed herself up, moving forward so that she could lean down and kiss him firmly. After a short time, she parted her lips, inviting him in, and he welcomed the entrance into her hot mouth. For several minutes, their tongues danced and dueled, as their bodies started to heat up where their chests were joined. When the need for oxygen finally overwhelmed her, Helen pulled back, gasping as the first breath of icy air hit her throat.
John looked up at her, framed from behind by moonlight. Her skin was almost as white as the snow and her hair was black as night. She was like some arctic angel, fallen with her brethren snowflakes.
"Helen," he asked as he caught his own breath. "Is this going where I think it's going?"
She grinned down at him, nodding her head eagerly.
"So having at it against an outer wall of your Sanctuary is a fantasy of yours?" he teased. She shook her head in amusement, swatting him.
"Making love against a snow bank," she corrected. John pondered this for a moment. She could tell he wasn't fully comprehending.
"Couldn't one of your employees walk about the corner at any time?" he asked.
"If they do, they should know enough to turn about and walk away!"
He chuckled at her confidence in her team, and then went back to considering her fantasy. He still wanted further explanation. Helen sensed this and took pity on him.
"There's just something about the idea of being outside, in the splendor of nature, the moonlight, the beauty of the snow, the way it cushions and molds to you, that I find, well… romantic," she admitted. John still looked a tad skeptical, so she continued.
"The cold snow at your back, while fire burns between your legs…"
John's eyes came alive with her statement, and he nodded.
"Yes, I definitely see your logic," he hastily agreed. "I'm ready when you are!"
She grinned, wryly.
"I thought you might be."
Without further ado, she leaned down to kiss him; he met her halfway. Tongues immediately collided, sucking and caressing, as Helen moved a hand down his chest to the top of his pants to determine what state he was in. She was slightly disappointed, but it was very cold, so she forgave him and determined she'd simply have to help him along. She rubbed his length with purpose, and even through two layers of clothing, regular slacks, and snow pants, the friction soon started to build a heat within. She happily kept kissing him until he started subtly thrusting up against her. John sometimes had the amazing ability to turn her on with no foreplay whatsoever, so when she thought he was ready, she quickly shucked her gloves and worked both of their snow pants down their legs, just far enough so that she could access their pants. She undid the various clasps and buttons of both, prepping everything so that they could join together as soon as sensitive skin was revealed to the night's chill.
When everything was set, she looked down at John. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and she held his gaze as she pulled him out of his boxers, enfolding him in her warm hand's embrace to lessen the shock. He pressed his lips together as wisps of frosty air hit him. He wasn't a small man, after all, and her hand couldn't cover all of him. With her free hand, Helen deftly pulled her pants down just far enough that she could spread her legs to straddle him, immediately sinking down to take him in. John let out a strangled moan at the intense heat that suddenly surrounded him. She set up a rhythm of short, quick movements, not wanting to bare more skin in favour of easier movement. He was inside her. That fact alone was almost enough to send her over the edge. Their breath came out in pants, little puffy clouds escaping into the night. John gripped her waist firmly, helping her as best she could. Her discarded gloves had grown cold the instant they hit the ground, so she tucked her hands in between his jacket and his sweater, cocooning them in his soft warmth.
After a while, John's back and bottom began to grow numb from the constant exposure to the snow drift.
"Helen," he spoke.
"Hmm?" she replied, her voice strained.
"Seeing as this is your fantasy and all, I really think it's fair that you feel this 'cushioning and molding' and all that," he informed her. She frowned down at him, still moving.
"John, don't you dare…"
She was cut off, voice morphing into a shriek, as he grabbed her about the waist, using his strong body to push them off the ground and flip them over, pressing their bodies close. Just to make sure they were still properly joined, John gave a hard, deep thrust as soon as they landed. Helen shrieked again as her body was pushed deeper into the snow, and a small amount fell into the collar of her jacket, sliding a wet trail down her neck. Goosebumps erupted all over her body, and she shook in a sudden, massive shiver. It travelled all the way down, making muscles clench along the way. When it reached the apex of her thighs, she involuntarily squeezed. The ancient lovers groaned as one, and all thoughts of cold were banished as he began to pump into her at a steady, hard pace. Every time he pulled out of her, frigid air would hit him, making him gasp, motivating him to desperately slam back into her, sheathing himself once again in her tight, hot haven.
Helen ignored the cold at her back, concentrating on the feel of him pumping in and out, his warm breath washing over her face as he panted. She moved her bare hands, still underneath his jacket, to his back, feeling the play of strong muscles beneath. John moved a hand up to a breast, and though it was covered in so many layers of clothing, the snow-induced shiver Helen had experienced had caused her nipples to tighten and peak. When he squeezed, she felt like a hot poker had hit her, searing down towards her core with hot pleasure. Within minutes they crested, soft cries and quiet moans drifted on the breeze to be lost in the serene peace of nighttime.
John quickly pulled out of her, tucking himself in, but fixing up all of her clothes before finishing with his own. He then lay down on his back, against the snow, and pulled her to lay half on top of him, wrapping his arms about her and kissing her on the cheek.
"Well, my love? Did it live up to your expectations?"
She smiled against him.
"I always enjoy making love in a new place, John, you know that. And when it's with you, it's even better. You've never failed me in this."
"Does this mean I have enough credit to my name to ask that we retire inside now?" he asked. "My bottom is about to freeze off, and that would put a rather large damper on any future explorations!"
She laughed against him.
She quickly stood, reaching down to help him up, taking pleasure in helping him brush the snow off his back and bottom. When finished, she took his hand in hers, and led him into the warmth and comfort of the Sanctuary.