AN: I absolutely adore John and Helen Smith from the wonderful tv show "The Man In The High Castle." Both are extremely strong and will do anything to protect their son. This, however, is a one shot smut of John and Helen because.. why not? This is my first fanfic that I
have published, so let me know how I am doing. Also, if you can, try to review this story.
"Whew, that was fun." Helen whispered in John's ear after they left the ball at Himmler's spacious home. With a wave of a hand, he hailed a cab waiting outside , even though his eyes were trained at her face. He had never looked more handsome in a uniform than now, especially in the fluorescent lights of the car, Helen thought. John had the same thoughts about her beautiful pink dress and her immaculately done makeup, especially her blue eyeshadow. It did things to him,like right now, with his penis becoming erect in his dress pants. While he thought this dance was a success, he saw his wife being a little too flirty with his aide while they were dancing, which he needed to fix in the only way he knew how: sex. "I agree love. It was." he replied. She faced him and captured his lips with a hungry kiss. "That's for flirting with Lucy." John pinned her against the car seat, kissed her and said the word that meant that, yes, they were going to have sex when they got back to the hotel, "Upstairs."
At the hotel room, Obergruppenfüher John Smith, head of the SS in the American Reich, was not working on the mohagany desk in the hotel on any Instead, he had a different mission in mind: helping his wife undress from her sexy dress. After reaching for a hanger in the luxurious closet, to hang it up, he stared at his wife in her undergarments (red lace bra and matching panties, nothing special, but it did arouse him to no end because of how much cleavage it showed). He also couldn't help but let out a wolf whistle from his lips. Even after more than 20 years, she could still make him quake in his boots and shiver simultaneously from desire. "John!" Helen slapped him playfully. "You are not one of those..people hanging around the streets, taking note of any bare thigh that comes their way. " He responded with the words, "I was before I met you. You could've asked Rudolf. "
"Yeah, but he's a traitor to the Reich, remember?" Helen responded.
He nodded in remembrance of the deed he had undertaken on V-A Day. Helen took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him, bringing his lips to hers. On the way there , she messed up her lipstick, making his lips redder than usual. Then, she started to suck at John's neck, leaving a hickey. "That is to remember who you come home to." Helen murmured against his pulse point. Suddenly, John picked her up, bridal style and kissed her hungrily, as if his life depended on his tongue reaching her mouth. "That, my love, is for getting close to Raeder. "
Helen was sucked into the perfect kiss with her husband. In between kisses, she gasped out, "So pretty. So good. So-Ahh!" Helen stated before John fingered her sex and pressed them the way she liked it. Her lover stopped kissing (a loss she immediately regretted) and asked "Gonna come now?" he asked. She laughed and said "No." He dumped her gently on the bed and started to undress, uniform and boxers haphazardly landing on a chair back.
Lying together post-coitus, John curling Helen to his side, both asleep, he heard a scream erupted from her creamy lips, which woke him up. John covered her mouth, and she screamed. Again. "Shh Helen. It's just me, your husband. Remember?" She nodded and relaxed against his hand, eyes fluttering between oblivion and reality. He let go of her mouth and started to caress her hand, like a younger version of himself would do. "Helena, I'm alive", he said, because he thought he knew the topic of the dream, "I'm fine, you see? Try and find that out for yourself." At this, she felt warm. She touched his pronounced cheekbones, drunk his mouth dry with kisses, and, for some reason, did not feel angry at the women for having crushes on John, even though sometimes they would be very suggestive during Garden Club meetings.
Lucy Collins once said a few years back, "If you ever get divorced, Helen, you will let me have your husband, no?" She had to excuse herself to the bathroom to cry and redo her makeup. That night, when her husband curled next to her in bed, she cried again. He asked, "What happened?" She told him. John then comforted her in his own way.(it involved some nakedness but no one minded. Least of all Helen, who was alternating moans with mumbling prayers to gods none believed in as John was brushing against her skin. ) "I will NEVER do that, Helen", he somehow said afterwards. "Your friend was wrong, I wil never stop loving you. Understand?" She responded with a kiss. Smooch. John's warm lips against hers jolted Helen from her memories. She returned his kiss and moved her hand down to his chest, spotted with dark hair. Right then, John gently turned her over and made his way down the map of hair on her taut belly to her most intimate of regions.
Helen had felt somewhat alive from other lovers, but not like this, feeling like ice and flame all at the same time. As John started to fuck her with her fingers she moaned, "Mmm-oh!" and closed her eyes as a result to his ministrations. John saw this and pulled his fingers, now dripping wet, out of her. "Look at me." John growled. "Or I'll stop." Helen slowly opened her eyes and saw his chiseled face. She kept them trained on his green orbs as he repeated the same action.
Even after hearing Helen scream and moan his name when he came at his ministrations for (he thought) one whole hour, he still hadn't come. His appendage was still hard and still poking against her thigh. Then, after Helen's third orgasm,she curled her body against his penis, which made him moan, "Helen, you little C-Ahhhh...oh!!!"as he came against her stomach, breasts and part of his chest. His wife then moved on his semen and rubbed John's cum against his chest, somehow making him harder even though he was not, only exausted in a good way. "Mmm." Helen said, jostling for a spot on his splattered chest, "I feel safe with you, Obergrüppenfüher, love, lover. You make me feel so alive and whole." John gestured with the hand that wasn't holding her, "Come here.", which she obeyed, curling a leg around his hip to get even closer. "Comfortable?" John asked. Helen nodded. She was about to sleep, reveling in the beauty of his cheekbone when John asked, "What DID you dream of, Helen?" She almost lied about her dream but decided not to. He hadn't lied about what he did in Cincinnati, so why should she lie about a piddling dream?
She said simply, "You. Dead." This made sobs rack her eyes and thoroughly ruin her makeup. "Shh Helen". John soothed her and kissed every inch of skin that was available to him. Dying was, now because of Heydrich and his snakes, a given of the job. However, it was not a needed,like the damned Resistance, he thought. Eventually he broke the silence by saying, "Honey, if I die, you know what to do, right?" His wife nodded. "Good." John replied. "Now let's not think of that. How about-"he tickled the sensitive part of her belly with his hands- "this? Hmm?" She giggled with pure joy as his fingers tickled her lightly. "I see you like it." he said tonelessly. Helen's lover continued his ministrations, fingers reaching up to her neck to pull her into a sloppy kiss, lips sliding against the other. John pulled away after a while, but his wife wanted more, and was about to put her lips on his when... "Helen of Troy, we need to sleep." John said to his lover. Helen felt annoyed but proud that he said that nickname, the one she'd been dubbed on their wedding night. "Well, you're going to stay in my arms, John Smith." Helen seductively replied. John complied and stayed next to her even though he wanted to get up and go to the bathroom. He kissed her a good night kiss and the two fell asleep. Their last thoughts were not of the Fatherland or of their family. It was of each other.