Disclaimer. Strangest thing. I still don't own them. They belong to their rightful creators. However this story is mine. I borrow the characters only. No profit. No nice awards where I get to say.. ''Thank you, god. Thank my cat, my fish. With out whom this wouldn't have been written. They motivate me. Okay not motivate, they totally ignore me, but I'd like to think they'd be impressed if they could read.''
Nope no rights what so ever. I borrow with care. Although you're probably not going to like what I do with them for a while.
Rating. M. This is same sex couples. If it isn't your thing, please move on to pastures you prefer. There is also male, female sex in this. So again age restriction advised.
A/U. For those that don't know what that means it's an alternate universe. Or time-line. Once upon a time it was known as uber. Where the characters you love are transferred away from the series you know them for and placed in stories. This time-line is Nineteen Twenties. Boston. China.
Warning. This is a pretty dark story. Involving certain situations that may cause triggering. Drugs, alcohol. The nasty side. Some readers might not like it or feel comfortable. I do not use these things lightly, nor for grand dramatic effect. I am a writer, therefore sometimes my bard takes me to the dark side. As always I aim to be as true to a character and a situation as possible.
I have researched, but I am not a historian. So if I get a date or event wrong, please accept my apologies. However all the places, ships, cities, hotels, all existed. I love art noire films. I hope to do them justice.
Okay, enough rambling. Enjoy.
蜂鳥
Hummingbird
Boston. 1922.
''What's got your attention?''
His voice whispers, stirring her mind away from watching outside the small window. She breathes deeply taking in the rustic scent of rain, mixing with the musk of cologne, perfume, sex. Their scent, one that fills the empty spaces. Turning her head to look over her shoulder. Pulling her knees closer, resting her cheek as she looks at him. Taking in the scene, a moment of time frozen in her gaze. Light is low, shadows and edges blurred, distinction of furniture hazy. The bed the brightest point, white linens, silver frame reflecting the oil lamps. Dreadful red flowered wallpaper its background. But there in the centre, alive, breathing, him. Blonde hair, smiling blue eyes. An eyebrow raised, waiting for her answer.
She smiles, inhaling again. ''The rain.''
He draws in a long inhale of cigarette, entrails of smoke escaping in his laugh. It's deep rumbling like warning thunder before a storm. ''It doing anything interesting?''
She doesn't answer, used to his teasing. She is used to all of him now. In this place they have discovered many things. This is their world within this room, beyond it doesn't exist in these stolen hours. There is only lust, want, need. No promises, no commitments. An affair, nothing more. She turns to look out the window again. Lost in thoughts, the outside world intruding.
''You'd rather be over there?''
His voice breaks into her silence, knowing he has sensed her change in mood. She looks over to him again. A smile twitching, as he pulls back the sheet, exposing all. Smiling unashamed at his own nakedness. Her eyes flicker over his body, appreciating the defined muscles, broad chest. The perfect specimen of a man. She turns her head back to look outside, already feeling the beginning pinpricks of want.
''Maura. Come here... I'll make it rain.''
Her eyes flutter closed, exhale a puff. The flush of arousal is instant. Heart rate increasing, breathing low, deep. A bodies response to lust. It is enough, yet it isn't. It doesn't touch any where deeply enough to matter. But it touches enough too feel the need of want, breaking through this oblivion of nothing.
She takes a deep breath, eyes blinking open. Unfurling her legs, she rises, anticipation making her throb. But she represses it, taking her time. Reaching to push open the window a little more; the coolness of evening entering, awakening goosebumps on her skin. Watching for a moment the lives of others outside this room, all unaware of what is about to take place. They are ants, scurrying, circling, living.
She watches for a breath more before turning to walk towards him. Not blushing once as his eyes drag slowly over every inch of her approaching naked form, his body already responding. The power of seeing it, hearing it, spikes her arousal high enough now to not care there is only one emotion behind this act.
She leans one knee on the mattress, taking the cigarette from his hand. Inhaling a long draw, holding the smoke in her mouth, before stubbing it out in the ashtray. His eyes are hawks watching. She blows the smoke in his face, making him blink. He reaches for her. She shakes her head. His hands drop. She scratches nails across his chest, the touch hitching his breathing. She feels the thrill she always does when he so easily responds. She scratches harder, watching his abs flex. Trailing her hand lower, down across the fine line of hairs that lead the way to his already straining need. She knows the human body, knows where to touch, how too tease, seduce, it is simple mechanics. She cups him, enjoying the hiss escaping from his lips, like a snake issuing a warning. She is the snake charmer keeping him hypnotised.
She knows he's holding himself back, the effort rippling his muscles, making him twitch in her hand. She moves fully, straddling him. Sitting, hand behind stroking him. She spreads her legs, moving her wet heat across his stomach, humming as his muscle tighten, giving her more friction. Watching, listening. His moan escapes as she runs her thumb over his tip. Her own body responding as he bucks. She dips, capturing his mouth in a frenzied kiss, tasting the smoke, the illegal whiskey. His hands now trailing touches across her skin, cupping her breasts until the peaks are ridged against his fingers. They move, desperate, fighting against each other. Sounds echoing. She shifts, removing her hand from around him. Bringing it forward to place on his chest, pushing palm down until she feels his expanding ribcage and the grunt of air. She slides, laying her body a top his, all the right places touching. It's going to be fast, hurried and she welcomes it.
He strains up to kiss her, but she turns her head away, instead biting down on his shoulder, only letting go when his hand pulls her hair hard. She smirks, biting at any where there is skin. This is the game they play. Limbs entangle, bodies sliding with sweat. This is primal, a need, nothing more. He groans, flipping them until she is beneath, legs opening. As he pushes into her, eyes slam shut, body arching, the sudden intrusion ripping a sound from her throat. Hands clench the sheets into fists, trying to breath through his fullness, too adjust. But she doesn't have time as he grinds downward. Moaning louder as he plunges deeper, faster, harder. In this place she gives her sounds freedom, outside in her other life she is silent. She moans again as he changes the angle, rubbing now on the place that sparks electricity with every thrust. Tendrils of fire licking at her skin.
Her wrists are grabbed, shoved high above her head, held. Stretching her body, opening her wider. His thrusts turn frenzied, unkempt. Her mouth opens, head pushed back into the pillow, rising up just as frenzied to meet. Slap of flesh is heard, the bed rocks with the force of them. One long hard surge has her stilling, frozen in an arch. The gasp that comes from her is escaping air... World turns to brightness, vibrant, burning, muscles clench. He is shuddering within, above. Breathing hot against her neck. Stillness, a moment, a moment where they feel free, alive, something.
Then it is broken as he collapses, a weight that suffocates. Her wrists are released as he rolls off, limp withdrawing. Turning his back, laying close but miles away. His breathing is raw gulps, body quivering. No touch now, there never is. No whispered words of love, no arms to encase and keep safe. Those would be the bigger lies. She stares at the ceiling, chest heaving, breathing erratic. She knows every crack in the white above, every ripple of paint. Because this is the time they cannot bare to look at each other and see how pathetic they are, how lost, how alone.
This is how they fuck, to escape the people they have become. Each wanting something, anything more than what they have. Searching for the unobtainable. To go beyond the lives they lead where they are emotionless drones conforming, obeying family, society. Trapped in glided cages. They do this, this... to feel, be more. But it always ends this way, laying in stillness of failures. Leaving both more empty than when this all began all those months ago. A meeting at a dinner party. Where eyes locked and each saw their own reflection of the same nothing of life, the repetitive boredom. It led to this... These brief moments of escape, where they feel, where they are alive. Sparking with fire that melts the encasement of ice they have entombed themselves in. But it is never enough. Because the truth is waiting outside the room. The fire of lust always turns to ash, bitter in their throats.
She rolls onto her side. Mirroring pose of self isolation. Drawing the sheet up and over. Hating the feeling of stickiness between her legs, another brand of failure. His seed is useless inside her. Reaching down, wiping the sheet until the evidence is removed. She turns her head into the pillow, eyes focused on the window, the grey of sky outside. Hearing his breathing even out. Her own eyes close. She is in the place of in-between, everything fading. Everything except the sound of rain.
…..
She watches as he ties his shoes, the brown cap against the white on his taps. He is like her in this way, expensive clothing is a shield. Showing a glimpse of colour caged within. She smooths down her dress, adjusting the buttons at the collar to bring out the perfect symmetry. Watching him in the reflection of the mirror, as he moves around the room, collecting his things. She takes one last look at her own image, satisfied that it is flawless before turning. ''I won't be coming here again.''
He stops, one arm in his jacket. ''What?''
''This is the last time.'' Even to her, her voice is cold.
''Why?''
He isn't annoyed or hurt, simply confused. She watches as he pulls the jacket fully on. She looks away, not understanding why the action makes her feel sadness. ''Garrett has been given a position in China.''
This time it's surprise she sees.
''China? Are you joking?''
She opens her bag, checking she has all her make-up. Looking around until she finds her cigarette case. Moving to get it. ''No. We leave next week.''
He steps close, too close. She steps back. This is not the rules. When they are dressed there is no them. She searches his face, seeing now concern.
''Maura, China isn't a place for a Western woman. Haven't you read the news, the revolution going on over there? The epidemics?''
Anger peaks. ''What am I supposed to do! Say no?''
He sighs heavily. Reality battering him as much as it is her. She has no choice, no say. She is a wife, to follow. A daughter, to obey. He steps back, sitting on the edge of the bed. ''Christ.''
''Garret has been made trade consultant of Shanghai. I very much doubt we will be near any of it.'' She checks the lobe of each ear, frowning as she finds an earring missing. She moves away from him to the bed, lifting the pillows.
''When did you know about this?''
She pauses in her search. ''My father informed me two weeks ago.'' Her attention goes back to the sheets, pulling them free. Using the action to relieve the anger spiking, remembering exactly how her father told her. Like she was nothing, a slave to obey, chattel. She spots the twinkle of diamonds, grabbing it. Returning the earring to its place in her lobe. Walking passed him to check in the mirror the gem is straight.
''And you wait till now to tell me? Jesus, Maura.''
Her eyes flicker to his in the mirror. ''Would it have mattered if I had told you sooner?''
''I.. '' His head shakes. ''We could have...''
She laughs bitterly, turning. Resting back against the bureau, crossing her arms. ''Have what? Run away together?''
''Is it so ridiculous an option? I have money.'' He voice is indignant.
Her laughter fades. He means it. A rush of affection warms her but she quickly pushes it away. ''We wouldn't get very far. My father would find us and even if he didn't, the scandal to your family would destroy them.''
''My family would survive.''
She sighs. ''They might. But your medical career would be ruined. So stop... You know as well as I do. What we have isn't any thing more than this room. Please don't pretend otherwise.''
He shrugs. ''I'm a better option than cholera or getting your throat slit.''
She smiles, stepping a little closer. Laying fingertips on his shoulder. Another rule breaking. ''Thank you for your concern.'' When he reaches for her hand, she removes her touch, stepping away. ''…. I very much doubt my father would send me somewhere I'd die. I am an asset he wouldn't so easily throw away.'' There isn't a lot left she hasn't done to get what her father wanted.
Anger flicks across his face. ''Garrett just agreed to this? Taking you, himself to a place thousand of miles away? He's the biggest coward I know.''
She doesn't even bother to defend her husband, it would be a lie to do so. ''He does what he's told. He always has.'' So do I. Is unsaid.
He cards fingers through his hair, eyes desperate as he looks up. ''Damn it. This isn't fair. What the hell does Doyle want in China?''
''To be clichéd, life isn't fair. …... My father wants what he always wants, more power, more money. Now America has a stake in China, Patrick wants one too. He's called in favours to get Garrett into this position. So I would imagine it is something with an extremely high profit.''
He shakes his head again. ''Opium? Guns?''
''I've told you before do not ask questions. It is safer.'' Irritation makes her snap.
He snorts. ''Right, because fucking Doyle's daughter has been a totally safe thing to do.''
She stiffens, a confusing sting of hurt at his words. ''Believe me, if he knew, you'd already be regretting it.''
His gaze holds apologies. His voice resigned. ''How long will you be there?''
She shrugs. ''Until my father gets what he wants.''
He nods. ''I can't help you with the rebels, or some chink who wants a white woman as a trophy. But I can help guard you against the diseases... As much as you think you know about medicine you don't know one thing about what is over there... Don't eat uncooked food.'' his eyes come up, serious. ''Don't drink unboiled water. Don't go near anyone you do not know. Most of the contamination is spread by infection, bacterial. In the water supply, in the sick. Breath, sweat... Stay away from it, Maura.''
She swallows the sudden emotion. She'd doubted he cared, but this tells more than the sex they had just shared. It also tells her this is the right time to end this. ''I will.''
He shakes his head. ''I doubt it. You have a tendency for collecting stray dogs.'' He smirks, but the sadness still weeps in his gaze.
Her laugh is a surprising lump in her throat. ''You were never a stray dog. You're far well to groomed.''
His laugh is just as pained. Brushing down his tailored suit. ''I do clean up nice don't I?''
She smiles. ''Yes.''
The honesty in this moment is more than they have ever had between them. Their eyes hold. For once neither of them see any thing other than the truth. An acceptance of fates hand dealt.
She looks away, unable to bear this sudden closeness between them. ''I'm sorry... I must go... '' She lifts her coat, moving to the door. Breaking another rule, he is the one to leave first. But this time, she wants to be. At least she will have control of something. ''I have...'' She bites her lip. Meeting his sad eyes. ''The time here with you, has been a haven I will miss terribly... I will... I will miss you. Goodbye Ian. Be safe.''
He stands, calling her name. She doesn't wait to know. She turns quickly opening the door and stepping away. Away from the haven, the warmth of him. Back into the cold. She is already preparing, the memory erasing with every step downward. Moving down the stairs faster than she should in the heels she is wearing.
She bursts out into the street, the light momentarily blinding. Turning down the side-alley, passed the putrid smell of garbage from the hotel kitchens. Her senses filling with it. Walking faster towards the main street. She has this timed perfectly, the street car just stopping not far from her. As she steps up onto it, the moisture she palms away from her face she tells herself is rain. As she sits, turning unseeing gaze out the window. She becomes one of the ants, scurrying, circling, living, nothing more.
Tbc