An impromptu sequel to 'A Fortune Accident' (thought you don't have to have read that one), because flighty Helen is too much fun. This isn't flighty Helen, but enter tipsy (cough smashed cough) Helen.
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Nikola was sulking. No, sulking seemed such a tame word for the master of such things. He could say proudly that he had developed and perfected the art of sulking in his century and a half on the planet. He was staying in a nice five-star hotel, of course, and had grown tired of the interior of his room. There was only so many bottles of room service wine he could order without raising suspicions. So, he had dragged himself from the comfort of his seclusion to amble downstairs to the bar. The upside was it was an exclusive hotel so there wouldn't be any riff-raff running about, or children most likely.
It was past eleven o'clock at night, but there were people dressed in business suits milling about tipsily. He groaned. A conference of all things to be going on while he was staying there. He would most definitely be checking out tomorrow and finding another lovely five-star location. Perhaps he'd try France.
Nikola all-but growled as a small group of obviously drunk men and women in suits rushed past him to the elevators, hands all over each other. Disgusting, the lot of them.
Perhaps his disgust was because of his obsession with feeling dirty, he mused as he compulsively wiped his hands on his handkerchief. He didn't want to admit to himself that it was probably more likely due to his frustration with the reason for his current sulk, a certain blue-eyed Doctor who specialised in all things abnormal.
He sighed and headed into the bar, thankful to see that it was at least almost empty. It appeared most of the conference goers were either already too drunk, diligently sleeping, or having 'discreet' amorous liaisons in each other's hotel rooms. Either way he was thankful and went over to sit at the bar. He ordered a glass of wine.
He was just up to sniffing the wine when his ears prickled. A beautiful melodious laugh had drifted across the room. He knew that laugh. He would know that laugh anywhere. It, along with its owner, had imprinted itself on his heart over a century ago.
Nikola turned to see none other than Helen Magnus sitting at a small table surrounded by a group of men in business suits. They all appeared a bit tipsy at least. His blood boiled at the sight of his Helen flirting with these men. He almost vamped-out then and there.
He didn't have time to wonder at the odds of both of them being in the same bar in this hotel at the same time of all the places in the world at this time. It was absurd. But she seemed to have spotted him, and her eyes lit up. She was obviously not on her first drink he noted as she called (no, squealed) his name excitedly and waved her hand. Her male suitors glared at him.
"Nicky!" she squealed. Yes, the great Helen Magnus had squealed twice within the span of thirty seconds. Nicky, that was a new one too.
She was obviously too far gone to consider the odd coincidence of them both being there.
Nikola went over to join them with his wine glass, more so he could fight off any of her suitors who could take advantage of her. He was the only one allowed to do that. Not that he ever would take advantage of her in her state. For all his bravado, Nikola was still a gentleman, mostly.
"Nicky, Nicky" she grabbed his arm as soon as he got in reach, and he had to appreciate the tight black dress she was wearing. He could feel the glares of the business-suit-wearing men around her table and smirked.
"Helen," he drawled, trying to act casual despite the fact he felt as though his skin might actually turn green with envy. "What a coincidence."
"Niko, these are my friends... um..." she said, pausing to think about that one, "Conference guys..." she giggled. She then frowned at the man in the seat next to her, who she had previously been enjoying the attentions of.
She reached out and shoved him off the chair rather cutely, before tugging Nikola down in his place. Nikola almost chuckled at the act. It was almost akin to that of a child who had decided someone else in the kindergarten was their new favourite.
"Niko gets to sit here," she smiled, happily holding onto his arm.
"Helen, who is this guy?" one of her men said. Nikola glared at him. He was tall (maybe almost as tall as Johnny) with dark hair and eyes.
"This is my oldest friend," she said excitedly, "Nicky you can do shots with us!"
He wasn't sure when it had happened, but a round of shots had appeared on the table, and Helen shoved one in front of him. Never let it be said that even drunk Helen Magnus was an intimidating force, and so he had no choice but to take the shot.
"Do you remember," she slurred, leaning on him, not really caring that one of the men sitting on her other side hand his hand on her thigh, "When we were drinking wine in my house and then my father came home and we were drunk? Oh! I love this song!"
She grabbed his hand and dragged him up, tugging him along with her to the make-shift 'dance floor' in the room. Her male suitors eyed him jealously.
Helen immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, her body pressed dangerously close to his as she swayed to the music. He had no idea how she could even stand upright in those ridiculously high heels of hers let alone dance, but this was Helen, and she was leaning on him for support.
She twirled away from him and stumbled, he caught her arm and she giggled, falling back onto him. Her curves were pressed against him and he groaned. This woman was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.
"My hero," she grinned, placing a kiss on his lips.
"Helen, we have more shots," one of the men said, in an effort to lure the sexy Brit back to their table.
It seemed to have worked as Helen stumbled back over, as Nikola trailed behind ready to catch her if she fell.
Her eyes lit up. He didn't like that. She was always up to something when her eyes lit up like that.
He saw the piece of lime in her hands and the wicked grin, and when he opened his mouth to protest (and perhaps suggest she'd had enough to drink already) she placed the lime on his lips, forcing him to bite into it. She grinned pushing him onto a stool and pushing his torso back so that he was leaning with his back to the table at an angle.
She straddled him, sprinkling some salt over the exposed skin of his upper chest where she'd been playing with the buttons before. He'd barely noticed that she had. He grabbed one of her wrists but she ignored him. She leaned down and licked the salt off his chest, causing him to bite back a groan as he felt her hot tongue dance over the muscles there. His pants were becoming uncomfortable as she squirmed around on top of him too.
There was a pause as she downed the tequila shot before she'd pressed against him to take the lime. Her hand fell on his chest, her other wrist still encased in his long fingers, and her body moving around far too much over his.
"I'm glad you're here, Niko," she said, softly, after spitting out the lime and discarding it. She leaned forward once more, hair falling in a dark curtain, as she slowly licking a bit of lime juice that had dribbled down his chin.
He groaned and she eyed him seductively. The minx. He was getting so caught up in her, the way her body felt against his, and the feel of her tongue on his skin. He had to stop her before it went too far. She was drunk and he couldn't take advantage of her like that. But he couldn't leave her here either, one of these buffoons dressed in suits would surely take the opportunity. Especially judging by the way they were eyeing him as though they would quite possibly consider trying to remove him.
Nikola grabbed her other wrist and pushed her back lightly, enough to sit up without making her fall and hurt herself. She jolted a little, but his hand wrapped instinctively around her waist as she emitted a little squeak in surprise. She was now sitting on his lap.
"Come on," he said, "I think you've had enough."
She pouted and gazed at him with wide blue eyes. Yes, she was definitely going to be the death of him. Why was he so weak when all she did was bat her eyes at him? He was so 'whipped' as Wolf-boy had so kindly stated.
"Not enough of you," she mumbled, kissing him again. He could get used to that, when she was sober of course. "You taste good." She added, simply.
"Come on," he said, standing. She yelped at the sudden change in position, but his hold on her waist was strong even if she was leaning almost fully on him now. "Let's get you upstairs."
"Oh," she giggled, "You just want to get me into bed, Nikola Tesla!"
She prodded him chest for emphasis.
She let him help her out of the room, much to the (loud) protest of her entourage of eager drooling men. He was glad when he'd got her to the elevator away from their leering eyes.
He didn't know where her room was, so he took her up to his, he didn't think she was in any state to tell him. Nor did she seem to mind. She probably hadn't even noticed.
As soon as he got the door open, for which he'd let go of her for, she bounced into his room and flung herself on the bed. The child-like glee on her face as she discovered the softness of the pillows warmed his heart once he'd come into the bedroom. It reminded him so much of the more carefree Helen of Oxford.
"Nicky come feel how soft the pillows are!" she said, in wonder.
She had that too innocent look in her eyes. He knew that look too. It usually meant that she was plotting something and she was trying to look innocent.
"I'm going to go and get a wash-cloth for you, my dear, and perhaps a glass of water," he said. "
"Oh, Niko don't go," she pouted, "Come to bed."
She reached out a hand for him, but he'd stayed back, knowing she would probably pull him onto the bed with her. He wasn't sure he could resist her for much longer. The woman had always had an unnatural power over his body. Not to mention that hold she had over his heart.
"Niko," she pleaded.
"Stay there," he said, as he went to the bathroom.
He grabbed a wash-cloth and wet it with some water, before filling a glass too, before going back to the bedroom. Helen was lying on the bed, her dark hair flayed out over the soft white pillows. She was asleep.
He smiled at how innocent and peaceful she looked sleeping. He sat on the bed next to her, and gentle removed her shoes, before tucking her under the covers.
"Sweet dreams, ljubav," he kissed her forehead.
He then removed his own shoes and jacket and settled into the chair near the bed for a night of watching her, to make sure she was okay. He smiled as he watched how she snuggled into the pillows. Perhaps he didn't need to sulk after all.
Not sure why Nikola was sulking in the first place, but it worked for the story. :P
