Disclaimer: I don't own "The Blacklist" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Part 3 of the "Blacklist Sentinel and Guide" AU series. I love the Sentinel/Guide trope so here we are. Raymond is a Sentinel: (a person with enhanced senses) And Lizzie is his Guide: (a person who helps a Sentinel control their gifts and keep them from 'zoning' or hyper-focusing on one sense and thus vulnerable.) The connection or bond between a Sentinel and Guide is a soul deep and almost spiritual thing that is generally considered pre-destined. Much like the soul-bond/one-love trope. *In this version Sentinels don't come online until they meet their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul.
Warnings: sentinel/guide, bonding, dubious consent, sexual content, drama, romance, oral sex, au on 1x01, animal traits
Serendipity
His dreams were fluid. Present. And pitifully two-dimensional. Only able to see the dirt path ahead of him as he walked naked through a tunnel of bowed birch criss-crossed thick overhead. Able to sense nothing beyond the cusp of the branches as an unnatural silence pressed in around him. Suffocating and thick like someone was holding a pillow loose around his face. Slowly stealing molecules and starving him from the inside out.
But still, he kept walking.
The crush of evergreen and death swirled around him like a living perfume. Able to sense it getting stronger, richer, with every foot-fall. It was a strangely enticing scent. Familiar in ways that seemed muted to memory. Leaving him firmly in the present. Toes curling deep in the prickling dirt as someone or something shadowed him.
He was not afraid.
All was as it should be.
The protector was being protected.
It was as it had always been and always would be.
He didn't feel surprise or even curiosity when a wooden alter - carved thick with ancient designs and sun-beached to a glowing, ivory-white - took shape in the heat-haze ahead of him. Aware, only as he stopped in front of it, how tired he was. Bones aching and thoughts raw as he collapsed in front of it. Wavering on his knees as he gradually pulled himself upright. Arms spread in silent supplication as something in the back of his mind tugged.
Alone.
Why was he alone?
The presence behind him brushed coolly across the small of his back. Fitting into the grooves between the vertebra and scars as if to give comfort before moving away again. Flirting across his skin like the answer to the question he hadn't dared to ask.
But he didn't turn to look.
Instead, he watched as a small speckled beetle crawled slowly up the sun-bleached wood in front of him. Antennas waving curiously as he bled sweat into the parched earth.
"You are not like the others."
The voice was thready, but powerful. Seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. Older than time, but somehow still hopeful. Young in a way he hadn't been since he'd been a boy.
"No," he answered, calm despite the eldritch nature of the alter and the beetle. Feeling more and more at ease as the nurturing presence nudged at him again. Ghosting on the very edge of his awareness.
"Good," the voice breathed. Exhaling like the ages and a hundred thousand secret hopes. Giving him a moment to contemplate what had just taken place before the beetle suddenly took flight. Landing on his arm with a buzz of sound and the florescent glossimar of its colorful wings.
He only laughed when the beetle's wings settled a heartbeat later. Walking down to the inner curve of his elbow before it settled, revealing a sharp, red-tipped barb. Wings folding back as poison domed thick on the point of the stinger. He could have shaken the insect off, but he didn't. Instead, he merely watched as the tiny creature seemed to look up at him before it suddenly buried the barb deep in his skin.
His chuckles were still echoing in the trees when the ground underneath his feet hiccuped and everything went black.
The glass of the containment cube was humid and fogged over when he lifted his head from the crux of her thighs. Blinking slowly through the haze of the lowered lights and influx of sounds and smells that still threatened to unman him.
How long had they been like this?
How had this happened?
What happened next?
He inhaled deliberately, leaning back down to drag his face into the dip of her hipbone. Grounding himself on her scent until his senses settled. Taking deep- shuddering breaths he couldn't help, despite knowing who was watching. Everything was sharp. Uncertain. Only she was comforting. Familiar. His.
It made his spine stiffen as much as he knew the emotions behind it were impotent. Wondering if the FBI would consider it a weakness. Something they could exploit later. The idea tasted fetid in his mouth and the thought set off alarm bells. Enough that he made a point to carefully take stock of himself and her as he disguised a look around with a yawning stretch.
But he couldn't focus.
He had gone soft somehow.
Lax.
Like all his energy had been channeled into her.
Distantly, he was aware of the reason.
It was likely they were still in the bonding period. That handful of hours where Sentinel and Guide imprinted on each other and connected in a way that went beyond just simply physical biology. It was a meeting of hearts and souls.
Ironic how some believed it impossible that he was in possession of either.
He brushed a lock of hair back behind his Guide's ear. Making her sigh in her sleep and part her thighs beautifully for him. Letting go of a soft sound as her fingers curled against the metal grate underneath them. Gifting him with the sight of her, wet and soft like the finest velvet.
He covered her body with his own. Instinctively shielding her from view as he tucked her into his chest. Mildly surprised to realize that the pleased sounding growl that reverberated through the cube was coming from him.
She was everything.
She'd always been.
That was the reason he was here after all.
But everything had evolved in a way he hadn't expected.
His cock was half-hard, exhausted in a way he knew should have had him passed out cold. But when she moved with him, into him, encouraging the grind with a high sound as she slowly blinked herself awake, he couldn't help but reach down and lift her up. Pulling her bodily into his lap with next to no effort. Knowing it was counter to everything, but having no time to marvel on the change as her lips brushed against the corner of his mouth. Entreating entry.
He could deny her nothing.
Making her sing just as sweetly as she had hours before when his hand dipped between them and found her clit. Encouraging her to let go and just feel as he used his new-found senses to stroke her pleasure higher and higher. Allowing himself to sink deep because he knew she was there to stop him from drowning. Anchoring him to the shore as he lost himself in the feeling of her skin and the cadence of her cries. Ignoring the hand that tugged at him - able to tell her protestation were merely sensitivity - hinging her ability to soar higher than she'd ever gone as he read her body like it was his own.
Internalizing the beat of her heart like a drumbeat before she finally arced and spilled. Gushing sweet slick over his fingers until it was dripping down his face. Tarting across his tongue as her hands smoothed over the short hairs on his head. Body shuddering as she came down. Every part of her relaxed, awed and pleased as that same, particular rumble left his throat again.
He fell asleep like that, caught in the crux of her thighs. Inhaling her scent like oxygen. Only mildly troubled by the thought that there was something important he'd come here to do. But couldn't, for the life of it, remember why.
This time he didn't dream.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to this series.
Reference:
- Serendipity: the chance occurrence of events in a beneficial way.