A/N: Well it may not be Hogswatch but I found this one digging through my old story books. I don't know whether to continue into the proper smut but I'm putting this at an M for safety. Enjoy guys!
Jonathan Teatime had been watching Susan for a year now; it was the night before Hogswatch again.
Teatime had spent a little while watching Death, but the Granddaughter was far more interesting. His murderer, his inhumer, she was entertaining, more so than her skeletal relative.
Teatime floated outside the child's bedroom window, smiling as Twyla asked Susan yet again about the Hogfather's existence and as Susan silenced the inquisitive young girl with a look, he followed her window to window as she slipped back to her own room.
In his opinion Teatime had been pulled away from the mortal world before his time, before he'd advanced onto Miss Sto Helit. Then again, he pondered, would he have allowed young Susan to live is she hadn't ran him through first? Probably not. Death had its perks and this time of night was one of them.
He remained, unseen, outside her window as she drew towards it. She appeared to be staring at the snow fluttering through his incorporeal form to the ground. The pair were face to face, only she couldn't see him, she couldn't see the insane grin that graced his feature whenever he had Susan in his sights.
The Assassin both respected and resented the young woman, after all she had killed him, despite his physics defying tricks. His body tensed with anger as he remembered that fateful visit to the Gaiter household but quickly pushed the anger away and he slipped through the glass.
It was that time of the evening again and as a death present to himself he'd watch Susan undress.
She'd been right, in the Tooth Fairy's castle. He had been the sort of boy that was mystified about the underneath of dolls dresses, but he was no longer a boy, and dolls would no longer suffice. He needed a woman, and Susan was most definitely a woman.
"Can I help you Teatime?" Susan had started to unbutton the austere governess dress and smirked when Teatime almost fell from the ceiling. "Do you like what you see?" She released the next few buttons with a nimble twist of the fingers. "I can see you Teatime." She used the wrong pronunciation deliberately, rolling the syllables over her tongue and smirking again.
He fell to the top of wardrobe with an all too audible thud. Another two buttons were popped and Susan heard his gasp of breath.
"I've seen you Jonathan, watching me." She turned to stare at the confused man atop of her wardrobe, bared skin from her throat to her hips, covered her breasts with the open dress. He grabbed at the lip of the wardrobe as a smile lit up her face into something more predatory than he ever believed she could've managed. "You can't have me Jonathan." She stared at him as his eyes flickered from her chest to her face.
"Susan." He panted and slid down the wardrobe, his feet bounced silently on the carpet. He'd died an Assassin and would eternally retain his youthful physic defying tricks. But she was the stronger entity – he was at Death's mercy and she was Death's Granddaughter.
"Sit." She murmured and his spirit was bound to her vanity chair, now in the centre of the room. "Stay." She whispered, circling his back, her nails scraped through his blonde curls as he whimpered.
"You want me don't you Teatime?" Her nails traced down his neck, fingers flying over the buttons of his black clothing. She marked his pale chest as he was frozen, bound by her power over him. Jonathan's breath hitched as he felt her soft touch head south, hesitating at the waistline of his black trousers.
He'd ached to possess her, exact his revenge upon her, every night he sat watching her, he was meticulously planning her downfall. But this Susan Sto Helit had never entered his mind; his imagination had enjoyed her begging for him and his non-existent mercy, this Susan reduced his once sociopathic genius mind into something that resembled an incoherent mess or puddle. His only conscious thought was that of her wicked touch and sinful whispers.
"You want me don't you?" She reiterated, enforcing her words as she pressed her lips to his throat and bit softly. Susan watched from the corner of her eye as his fingers tensed, arms unable to move from their invisible bindings. Jonathan was burning to touching her, quell her wandering hands and to restrain her. He was pulled from his thoughts as her nails headed across his chest again, her movements dominant – she owned him. The last Hogswatch he'd only a vague understanding of the feelings she was currently creating within him. Lust was something his child like mind had never really grasped but a year floating around the rank streets of Ankh-Morpok had awakened his adult mind. Only Susan was putting instilling these actions in his blood, making it boil and the grasp lust had on him was apparently unbreakable as he whined at her touch.
"Answer me Teatime!" She growled, fingers tightening in his curls and pulling just enough to make him gasp again.
"Yes." He grated out, eyes closing as she unbuttoned his trousers. "Susan." His breathing was shallow, mind reeling from the sudden change of events.
"Goodnight Mr Teatime." The Granddaughter brushed her lips underneath the Assassin's left ear and left him paralysed upon her vanity chair. She retired to her small bathroom to change, his eyes followed her back her bed, she blew out the candle and slipped beneath the bed sheets before the crackle of blue electricity rocketed around him and he was thrown outside the window, spinning into the street.
Susan tugged the sheets higher and settled her feverish self beneath the cool fabric. Her cool appearance during her rendezvous with Jonathan Teatime had affected her as much as him.
He attempted to visit her the night after but she had barred him from entertain the Gaiter household; he was furious that she had broken his routine. Even more so after the torture she put him through last night. No matter what he tried, Death's granddaughter had laced the abode with her protection and he was angry that he was under Death's control and therefore hers.
He sat on the snowy bough of the Oak outside the house and thought through everything that happened. She'd allowed him in every night, even if he hadn't known it. He relished the memories when she revealed her curves, the body that had stirred alien feelings within his gut and foreign concepts in his mind – concepts that required extensive research in the back alleys of the rough end of the city.
Teatime flitted from window to window, squinting to watch Susan supervise her charges dinner while she ate her own – it was Hogswatch and she was allowed to eat with the family. The deceased Assassin spent his Hogswatch, unaffected by the cold staring at the blonde woman before his eyes. He dreamt of wicked situations he could force upon her – the places, the positions. He closed his eyes and flitted back to the tree, wrapping his arms around himself, not in a bid to keep warm but to remind himself he still controlled his actions. It was two in the morning before Susan put the sleepy children to bed and he followed her again back to her bedroom, still banned from entering the household. He sat outside the glass, smiling again and made eye contact. He was annoyed and confused to see her irritated look and without warning he was shot three streets away from the house. Many futile attempts to return taught him that she was stronger than he feared.
Susan herself felt the tug of exhaustion that banishing Jonathan had caused. Settling herself into bed, her mind replayed their meetings, right back to the Tooth Fairy's Castle. There was a moment where even Susan had believed he was going to kiss her and it disturbed her as she realised she wanted a little taste.
The urge gnawed at her and she grumbled to her traitorous body as her mind desperately told her hormones to stop.
She knew the hormones would win out though.
They did.
The next night Jonathan ventured towards the window a pale pair of hands yanked him through the glass and pinned him to the bed. He was barely aware of the abduction before the female form sat astride him.
"Susan." He gasped but said nothing more as she pressed her lips to his. Jonathan never felt Susan stop time, he had zoned into the feel of her body beneath his hands, her lips upon his and her weight atop him. It had felt so much more than when he watched the whores of the backstreets service men, his body felt on fire and he needed control.
After the sensory deprivation torture she had unleashed on him he was desperate to explore every crevice and curve, he flipped them, lips and teeth biting at the pale expanse of her neck. It was as he growled her name that her eyes opened and she remembered what she was doing. He felt himself being torn away from and bound down to the vanity chair again.
He gave an animalistic snarl, which faded to a whimper as an almost naked Susan repeated the game from before. The sheer nightclothes left very little to Teatime's imagination as removed his shirt and tails, fingers hovering on the buttons of his trousers before undoing them. He panted as her touch dipped below the opened waistband and pulled his length free from its confines.
His brain was in meltdown and rationality had long since fled, leaving behind a starved primal beast roaming in his head, demanding physical pleasure.
"Well Jonathan." She murmured and bit on the shell of his ear, desire blooming in her stomach as he groaned her name. "Let's see how good you are." She spun in front of him and landed on his lap, heat searing in her stomach as she felt his hardened length beneath her.