Nikola made use of Henry's old lab, once he moved out with Erica. It was a nice set up, well thought out and practical. Small but organised enough to be spacious. It only took an adjustment here and there to make it tailor made for Nikola's purposes. It smelt like geek, but thankfully the room came with windows.

Helen was kind about it and didn't seem to mind; especially once Nikola proposed to design a program for maintaining all the security measures Henry had always looked after. It was one less thing for her to think about in the long run, and Nikola knew she appreciated that. Helen was more than happy to contact someone to help with the coding, and that was how Nikola ended up like this. A goreous blond writhing underneath him as his fingers pounded her, and a weeks worth of work scattered across the floor.

But then she made this noise in the back of her throat and he couldn't care less.

If anyone asked Penelope how she started thinking about Nikola Tesla's fingers, she wouldn't know where to start. She wasn't entirely sure how she had ended up in a giant gothic and incredibly building, let alone gotten a tour that ended with an introduction to the long dead, but not really, inventor who was actually a vampire, who wanted her to write code.

But she had started thinking about them, and then her mind had run away to fantasy land.

Tapered fingers, strong and experienced; she knew if she touched them she'd feel calluses. Broad palms; weathered and aged but still elegant. Underneath that suit she knew his body would be lean, but he held himself with an air of strength. She mused at the look of concentration etched on his face; he was completely emersed in the task at hand and oblivious to the world around.

She watched him as those hands stroked and plucked and caressed, and she wished she was his new invention.

There was something about this man; his prim, proper and immaculately kept appearance. It was as if dust was too scared to come near him. And he had this air about him; a sort of old world charm. But there was a sort of crackle around him; as if he was dangerous. But when he flashed a smile her way, she had to agree. This was a dangerous man, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

He must have realised she had been watching him; his smile became a smirk and a gleam flashed through his eyes; temptation and promise all in one. She sat down, she was sure she would have fainted if she hadn't. He noticed, he must have, because the next second he was barely inches away from her; gleam and crackle and smirk, and she couldn't take it anymore.

She launched herself to her feet and buried her fingers in his hair, smashing her mouth against his. She felt his laughter throughout her body and she realised this had been a game. To make her weak at the knees, to snap her concentration and leave her body a battleground of frenzied hormones. Then he did something delicious with his tongue and she didn't care.

He pushed her against his workbench; paper and metal and parts of half finished things were thrown to the floor, and she only vaguely registered the surface on her back. Then clothing was being ripped and torn and pushed to the side and those fingers were inside her and his lips on her neck. She moaned as he pummelled her; filling and stretching with perfect rhythm. He curled those clever fingers and electricity was coursing though her veins and she was coming, clenching around his hand as he kept moving; milking her as he whispered filth in her ears.

Penelope didn't know how she got there, but she certainly wasn't complaining.