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Sanctuary - An Interlude
James/Helen, in the library, with port.  NC-17, total PWP. 

It has been a better day than many, and James opens the bottle of port with finicky care.  The tools are ready, and he decants it slowly, grateful for the moment of peaceful indulgence.  He has secured a supply of black market meat for several Sanctuary residents who have no ration books, including the sphinx cub who arrived just before the Germans invaded North Africa, and the weather has been bad enough that an air raid seems unlikely.  He and Helen combined their sugar ration for a quite acceptable cake, and she has promised to join him in the library to taste the last of the 1901.

The door opens and he looks up, blinking as the vision hits him.  It’s Helen, but Helen transformed — Helen in man’s trousers and a dinner jacket and nothing else, her skin cream against the black satin of the lapels.  Her hair is pinned up, the sort of simple twist that can be released with the removal of a single pin, and the curves of her breasts are plain to see.  It all goes straight to his cock, and he makes a small, strangled sound.  Helen smiles.

“If it’s to be port in the library,” she says.  “I thought we’d be gentlemen together.”

“You are no gentleman, Helen,” James says, and means it every way it can be taken.

Helen’s smile widens, and she comes to him, rests her hands on his shoulders.  The jacket gapes, and he undoes the single button, slides his own hands beneath the fabric, her nipples stiffening against his palms. “I’m not playing fair?”

“That, too,” he answers.  What he wants, desperately and painfully, is to press her against the nearest wall, take her there and then, but he’s not
sure if that pleases her, and with an effort that makes him shudder he slips one hand around her waist, fingers splayed against her bare back, and bends to kiss her.  She responds with an enthusiasm that nearly undoes him, and he breaks the kiss with a noise that is almost a gasp.  He cups her breasts, kisses them one by one, and slides gracefully to his knees.  This he’ll do for Helen, when he wouldn’t for just any gentlemen, his hands busy on her buttons, popping them one by one.  She sways as he pushes the cloth aside, and he sees she is wearing nothing beneath the trousers, either.  He’s so hard it hurts, but with an effort of will he ignores it, instead slides his hands onto her hips, running his thumbs along the crease of her thighs.  She sways again, and he kisses her, her taste not yet familiar on his tongue.  He sucks, gently first, then harder, and her hips move in answer, but then she tugs at his hair.

“James —”

She urges him to his feet, backing and turning until she is against the bookshelves, solid as any wall.  That breaks him.  He may have said her name, or perhaps it’s only an aching sound, but her hands are busy with his buttons now, and he thrusts blindly, flattening her breasts against his device.  He retains just enough presence of mind to pull out, semen spattering her belly, and as he leans panting against her he feels her shudder to her own climax, her hands busy between them. 

He is undone, utterly, and he sees in her smile that she knows it, too.  She has found a way to unlock his secret, to shred the control that is all he has for armor — and yet, she would not be Helen if she didn’t try.  He presses himself slowly upright, his breathing harsh, and she gently cups his cheek.

“Darling,” she says, her own voice rough with pleasure.  “Thank you.”

And that is grace enough, kindness enough, to steady him.  That, too, is Helen, gracious in victory. He tidies his clothes, doing up his buttons, but catches her hand as she would slide away.  He kisses her palm, barely a brush of lips against skin, and smiles as she shivers.  “My pleasure.  Truly, Helen.”

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Mmm, so nice to think about. Or perhaps "nice" isn't the word. :-)

I'm glad to have provided food for thought. :-) (Oh, Helen, so pretty....)

Oh my! That is very, very hot! Very very! With a side of very! My my my. When you find those nouns you find them!

Thank you! Glad you liked! (There was this box of nouns lying around, and I just thought, you know, why not.... :-)

Holy Hannah, that outfit. ~gulps~

This was incredibly, incredibly hot. Definitely good to be a gentleman. ;-D

Hee! Thank you - glad to have amused! (I mean, Helen is hot in almost anything, but, you know....)

(Deleted comment)
Thank you! They are - complicated, but who of the Five aren't, really?

And you have to admit, the summary was - well, what else was there to say, really? :-)

Um. GUH.

Beautiful. Sexy. Perfect. Love this. Love them.

Thank you!!! They're - complicated and fun. :-)

The description of her tux made me think of Amanda in that white tux
Wish someone could manip the pic into a black outfit and put 'Helen' hair on her. Very sexy picture in my head. ;) Thank you for the PWP. Nicely done.

*g* I might have had that image in the back of my mind.... Glad you liked!

*brain explodes* Because Helen, in Victorian-era drag, guh, am wordless.

(I blame Ace, personally.)

Thank you! Helen is - well, she's Helen!

(Ace! Ghost Light! Omg, I'd forgotten that one!)

*picks up red pen* Sipping fine port check, wearing gentleman's clothing, check, graphic descriptions of sex acts check, helen check, james check.

*removes horn rimmed spectacles* It seems you've done everything necessary to get a grade A on this fic. Well done.

You get extra credit for the Sphinx Cub (awwww!) so you also get this spangly star to put next to your A!

*bobs a curtsy* Thank you, teacher! :-D Glad you liked!

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