Disclaimer: I do not own anything from LXG. Charlotte is my OC. Rated M for love scene. Hope you enjoy!
Charlotte Quartermain is anything but ordinary. Her father is a famed hunter and soldier of Her Majesty's army. She's his only daughter and last of kin. At nineteen, she's traveled the world two times over, and she's a werewolf. This was a horrific accident when Allan had taken her into the jungles of Africa. Her brother was killed a year before, and she vowed to stay by her father's side ever since. She was a pretty young woman – long dark brown hair that fell in loose waves down her back, amber eyes, and a petite womanly figure for a teenager. She never would have thought that she'd be in the predicament she was in. Her father had been called to serve the Queen once more. The world was on the brink of war by a terrorist known as the Fantom. Her "unique" abilities qualified her to join Allan and a small group of gifted agents known as the League. Among them was Rodney Skinner – the invisible man, Mina Harker – the vampire, Captain Nemo – the "pirate", Dr. Jekyll (and Mr. Hyde) – the mad scientist, Tom Sawyer – the American, and Dorian Gray – the immortal.
Dorian had taken a keen liking to both Mina and Charlotte. However, Mina wasn't having any of it. She had a previous relationship with Gray, and it didn't end on good terms. Being the womanizer that he was, Dorian decided to focus his attention on the very young and available Charlotte. He would try and corner her in the halls of the Nautilus, Nemo's submarine, and convince her to join him for a walk or nightcap.
"Why do you test me so, Charlotte?" He was persistent, she gave him that. "I want to get to know you."
"Mr. Gray, I've met many men like you," she toyed, "And you all want the same thing." She was very good at being coy and hard to get. She inherited that from her mother. "I'll tell you the same thing I said yesterday, 'Goodnight, Mr. Gray'."
"Call me Dorian," he cooed. "We've been together long enough to be past formalities."
"As I do not know your real age," she was standing very close to him and speaking very slowly, "It will have to do, Mr. Gray." He goosed her lightly as she walked through the doors to her room. "And there will be none of that… tonight."
He followed her every night. The same song and dance was getting very old. He tried to think of other ways to get his vixen, but it was no use. She saw it coming. But then he realized that if he stopped for a while she would eventually seek him out. It was weeks before his plan succeeded. The League was nearing its destination, Venice, and Dorian had a call one chilly February night.
"I just thought I'd say goodnight, Mr. Gray," she stood in his doorway. "I hadn't heard from you for weeks, and I was wondering if I had done something."
"Of course not, Miss Quartermain," he smiled, "I've had a lot on my mind." How fickle women are, he thought, she's begging for it now. Then again, she was still young and naïve. "Goodnight, Charlotte."
"Well, then goodnight, Dorian," she smiled and made her way down the corridor toward her room.
He waited till her soft footsteps were no longer audible. He slid out of his room and decided to follow. She was already safe behind her closed door. He took the small flask from his inside vest pocket. His knock echoed slightly through the hall. She opened the door in her undergarments – white knickers that ended above her knee and a lace soft-boned corset. When she saw his figure there, she blushed fiercely and scrambled for her robe.
"Dorian, I wasn't expecting you," she chuckled half embarrassed and half excited.
"There's no need to cover up," he grinned, "I just thought you'd be interested in a nightcap."
"Maybe just a small one," she relaxed. He handed her the bottle, and she took a long swig of the whiskey. "That hit the spot."
"I never saw a woman take her liquor like that before," he was amazed.
"You seem to forget who I was raised by," she laughed. "I feel much better now."
She decided to acquiesce to taking the robe off. He sat cross-legged in the armchair across from her vanity. She lifted her hair off her shoulders and let if fall behind her. He tapped the bottom of his cane against the floor. She had always seen him with that bloody thing. The words blurted right out.
"Are you compensating for something, Dorian?" She smiled wryly.
"I don't understand what you mean," he hadn't taken his eyes off her since he'd walk through the door.
"The cane," she nodded toward the silver-inlayed staff in his hand, "I've never seen you without it."
"Would you like to repeat that?" He had unsheathed the hidden sword. He was smiling. The point of the blade was deathly close to her throat.
"Are you threatening me, Dorian?" She knew he wasn't going to harm her. Keeping the point's distance, his body moved up next to hers.
"What if I am?" He stared into her eyes. Then it all happened so fast.
The sword fell to floor with a clatter, and she was passionately kissing him. His right hand tangled in chocolate velvet hair while his left had lifted her right thigh upwards so that her knee was bent and her foot dangled helplessly. Her hands grabbed hold of the back of his vest with such force she could feel her nails tearing the fabric. She stopped them from making anymore damage, but she had also stopped kissing him.
"What's wrong?" He asked wide-eyed.
"N-nothing," she gasped.
He resumed his passion-play hastily removing the undergarments that choked her womanly curves. When she was covered only by Egyptian cotton sheets from the bed, he started removing his vest and shirt followed by his buckled trousers – all a deep shade of heather grey. He crawled under the sheets next to her and ravenously started kissing any exposed skin he could reach. Her breathing had quickened and her heart raced. She could feel her blood pounding and heating through her veins. She let out a small gasp when his moist velvet lips kissed the insides of both thighs. He peered up at her from under the sheets. He was doing something right. He continued torturing her. Her small figure shook around his still body. When she couldn't take anymore of it, he reemerged and kissed up and down her neck. His member throbbed between his thighs. She could feel the growth pulsing between her milky legs. He slowly forced his way into her body, and thrusted in and out. He started fast, but then slowed when he heard her cry in discomfort. Her pain had ceased into ecstatic moans of pleasure. She grew wilder when she heard the guttural sounds escaping his perfect lips. The whiskers on his face rubbed gently against her neck. She started giggling which only made Dorian more aroused. He loved her laugh. Their skin slid against the other's from the balm of love-making. Charlotte had reached her climax, but her body didn't slow until he had given in to the waves he had forced back so diligently. They said nothing to each other afterward. They lay there listening to the steadying of their heart rates, and quickened breaths turned into deeps heaves of slumber – deep sleep.
The next morning she had woken alone in bed. He must have left during the night. She stared dazed around the room. Her undergarments were piled neatly on the armchair he had been sitting in the night before. His flask was sitting on her vanity. She wrapped herself in the sheet and walked toward it. She picked it up and shook lightly. There was still whiskey present. No doubt that he'd want her to return it to him that night. After she had freshened up in the warm soapy water of a long bath, she dressed and made her way to the dining hall. Everyone was seated at a large round table. Dorian didn't look up when she walked in. He grinned slyly with his cane tapping. She was dazed again. Charlotte took the empty seat between her father and him. Still tapping the cane from under the table, Dorian freed one of his hands and slid it onto her thigh. She choked lightly on her tea.
"Are you alright, Charlotte?" Her father patted her back lightly. Her eyes were tearing from coughing.
"Y-yes," she breathed, "Went down the w-wrong pipe."
"I trust you slept well, Miss Quartermain," Nemo had been watching the fit through the corner of his eye. Dorian's grin grew wider. She could have sworn she had heard a low chuckle.
"Yes, thank you, I did," she smiled. Dorian jumped out of his seat and rubbed his shin.
"What's wrong with him?" Tom Sawyer nodded in Dorian's direction.
"Must be a leg spasm," Charlotte took another sip of her tea looking very pleased with herself.