So this little ditty was never meant to see the light of day because it's the kind of uninspired drivel I hate myself for writing but I made a deal with the devil (a.k.a Emmy1512) that got you all a rather unsatisfying update to Nightswimming (I WANT MORE TESLEN LOVIN' WOMAN AND STOP CALLIN' ME HO) so here you are...
xx
Nikola was sick. More sick than Helen could ever remember seeing him in all their time together. Of course, his reborn humanity had helped with that. She'd warned him to stay away, that if he insisted on hanging around her while she was sick, saying that he'd catch it too but he hadn't listened. Of course, she hadn't been protesting too hard, it was nice, after all, to have someone willing to bring her chicken soup and hold a wet cloth to her forehead. But she had told him several times to be careful and to spend less than the majority of his day with her. Once or twice, at the height of her fever, he'd even managed to climb into her bed and while she couldn't remember much more the cuddling up to him when the chills hit, she did remember waking up, finally lucid and in his arms. Of course, the latter made her wonder if she was still dreaming but the quick "My my Helen, is that your firearm or are you just happy to see me?" made her fairly certain that she was awake.
And of course, the very first day that she was actually well enough to make it from her bedroom to her office without feeling dizzy, happened to be the day he fell ill. She'd been sitting at her desk almost missing him when she'd found out. He'd spent the past four days by her side and now, sitting all alone in her empty office, she missed his gentle jibes and ridiculous innuendos. The past four days had shown her a softer side of Nikola that she had been 99% sure the Source Blood had squashed out of him. But when she'd called on Will and asked him to send Nikola to her, she'd been shocked to hear that the 'ex-vamp' had locked himself in his room earlier in the day and, "To be perfectly honest, we're all O.K if he stays there."
Ignoring her protégé's attitude for the time being, Helen quickly left her office and hurried to the kitchen, pleased to see that there was still a lot of the soup he'd brought her in the refrigerator. A few minutes later she was walking carefully towards his room with a steaming bowl of soup. As she walked, she ran through as many excuses as she could think of in case she ran into any of the others. Then she stopped short. Why was she trying to come up with excuses? There was nothing untoward about her actions; she was only returning a kindness that he already paid to her. None the less, she most certainly did not want to be found out, even if it was only because she knew Will would tease her mercilessly about it.
Approaching his door, she transferred the tray to one hand and began to dig through her jacket pocket. With a triumphant smile, her fingers closed around a small key she'd pocketed as she left her office. Pausing outside his door, she listened for any signs of life in the room. Hearing none, she raised her free hand and knocked softly.
"Nikola?" she called. No response. "Nikola it's me. I've got some soup." Still nothing. "Nikola, I'm coming in now, O.K?"
Slowly she inserted the key and turned the handle. From the doorway she could see nothing on the bed except for a giant ball of sheets.
"Nikola?" she asked as she closed the door. Setting the tray down on the nearest table, Helen walked straight towards the bed, sitting down on the edge. Reaching over carefully she began to peel back the covers. After she removed a few layers the sheets began to get harder to remove and she realised that he wasn't willing to relinquish them.
"You're going to have to let me look at you," she said softly, stroking the sheets. There was a muffled response and she almost chuckled at the poor man. After having spent the better part of his life immune to the flu, he was clearly struggling to cope with it.
With one last, futile tug on the sheets, Helen let out a sigh and kicked off her heels before stripping off her jacket, tossing it to the end of the bed before climbing up to kneel next to him. With the new angle, the sheets were easier to tug from his weakened grasp and, in a matter of seconds, she was face to face with a miserable looking Nikola.
"I hate you," he muttered as he began to shiver and she smiled down.
"Even though I brought you soup?" she asked, bemused.
"Yes. You made me sick."
"I told you to stay away," she sighed which made his brow furrow. She could only see his face, cocooned in all the sheets and with his face pinched in annoyance the way it was, it was all Helen could do to keep from laughing.
"But you were sick, you needed me," he argued weakly and Helen began to suspect he was a little feverish.
"And now you need me," she insisted, ignoring the way his words made butterflies dance inside her. "Up," she commanded, "I need to check you out."
Ah, not so delirious then, she decided as his brow lifted at her words.
"You know what I mean Nikola." He pouted at her but, after a few minutes of gentle coaxing, she had him sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I didn't know you had such lovely pyjamas Nikola. Is this where you've been siphoning all your allowance?" she quipped as she undid the first few buttons of his black silk top. He said nothing, just shivering as her fingertips ran across his collar bone and then up his neck as she checked for a rash.
After a few more moments, Helen stood back.
"We'll, it seems Mr. Tesla that you have the flu," she quipped but when he made no response she started to worry. "Nikola," she said, leaning down to do up his top again, "how are you feeling?"
"It's cold," he slurred softly.
"You just wait here one moment and I'll get you your soup," she said softly before hurrying away. By the time she made it back to the bed, he was shivering openly, eyes drifting shut. "Here, eat this," she instructed, holding the spoon to his lips. He tried to push her away but, after some effort, she managed to get him to choke down a few spoonfuls.
"No more," he whispered hoarsely, eyes closed, pushing at her until she dropped the spoon back into the bowl. "No more."
"No more," she agreed, placing the bowl back on its tray before easing him back to lie on the bed. He whimpered softly and the shivers intensified. Starting to get worried, Helen grabbed the sheets she'd previously discarded and straightened them out before covering him. He curled into a ball and let out a small moan of discomfort.
"What's wrong Nikola? Are you tired or does something hurt?" she asked softly, running a hand over his sweaty brow.
"My back," he whispered, eyes still closed.
"Roll over," she instructed and, much to her surprise he did so. He was now lying on his stomach but there were too many blankets around him for Helen to help relieve his aches. As gently as she could, she peeled down the sheets until she could rub at his sore back through the thin satin of his top. He shivered under her finger tips but let out a small sigh as she delicately caressed him. After a few minutes of drawing soft patterns over his muscles, Helen heard his breathing change. He was asleep.
With a warm smile, she pulled at the covers and tucked him in, running a hand through his surprisingly soft hair. He murmured indistinctly in his sleep but there was a small smile on his lips. Without thinking, Helen pulled back the covers slightly and slipped in, Nikola's arms immediately searching out her warmth, wrapping tightly around her waist. She shuffled in his grip to get comfortable, smiling softly as she tucked his head under her chin. He squirmed a little to get closer, throwing a leg over hers as his nose brushed against her pulse point briefly.
"Helen," he sighed against the skin of her exposed neck.
"It's alright Nikola, just sleep," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him securely.
"O.K," he mumbled contentedly and she let out a soft, almost unheard chuckle.
Slowly his breathing began to even out and, in a matter of minutes, he was asleep again. His body was feverish, she could tell but, despite the illness, Helen felt comfortable and at ease in his embrace, eventually allowing her still weary body to succumb to sleep.
When she woke up several hours later, their position had shifted somewhat. Nikola, it seemed had slipped in his hold on her, his head now resting firmly on one breast. Blinking slowly, Helen fought the lethargy that clouded her mind. Or perhaps that haze came from the soft lips brushing against her cleavage every so often. Moaning softly, she turned instinctively, giving whoever was providing her with such sweet torture more access. Her top, it seemed, was designed for this very purpose. The soft cheesecloth buttoned at the front and, given the angle she was now on, it fell open prettily, the satin edges falling away to expose the creamy flesh beneath.
With a tiny whimper, she began to squirm, trying to get closer to the man who was still wrapped tightly around her. Slowly she moved her hand from its place on his back, tracing lazy patterns all the way up to his hair. She knew before she felt those soft strands who it was that was brushing his cheek against her, the smell giving him away but the confirmation made her bite her lip.
Nikola, meanwhile, still half asleep was mumbling against her supple skin. His words were disjointed, a mix of Serbian, English and about three other languages but none of that took away from the sweetness of his utterances. Occasionally his tongue stole out to taste her flesh but, for the most part, his kisses were chaste. His hands were wandering up and down her sides slowly, tracing patterns into her skin through the fine cloth she wore. It wasn't until she began to whisper his name that he actually woke up enough to realise what he was doing. Even then it wasn't enough to stop him. In the midst of his fever induced haze, Nikola wasn't in control, his lips moving, speaking, caressing without his consent. Of course, what made it harder was the way Helen was panting slightly as she breathed his name, hands holding him tenderly.
A few minutes later, when she arched against him softly, her eyes flew open for the first time. The room was bathed in the soft glow of sunset, giving the still room a warm look that contradicted the cool air that they were very quickly heating up.
"Nikola," she muttered, her voice stronger than before. He mumbled in response but made no move to remove his mouth from the side of her breast. "We can't, not now." He pouted against her and let out a small noise of disapproval as he continued his actions. "Please Nikki," she said, winding a hand into his hair to pull him away. He frowned at her but she could see that he wasn't entirely lucid. They paused for a moment, looking into each other's eyes but he quickly tired, eyes drooping all too quickly.
"Helen?" he almost begged, his voice small. She smiled at him before shifting to lay them both on their sides.
"Later," she promised and he smiled goofily at her through his sleepy gaze.
"Later," he murmured before sighing and tugging her to him with as much strength as his weakened arms could. She came willingly though, making his work easier. They moved closer and closer together until their bodies were almost completely entwined under the sheets. Helen fought the sleep that threatened to take her until Nikola fell asleep once more. In a moment of weakness, she allowed herself to lean forward and press her lips gently to his cheek. Later, she thought with a sleepy smile as she drifted off into unconsciousness.
The next time they awoke was much later in the evening, stars shining though the open window. Again they'd shifted, his front now pressed along her back. Stretching out her muscles, Helen didn't initially object to his arms around her or even his body being so close to hers but, when a certain something pressed into her lower back, she froze. He chuckled in her ear and then she realised he'd probably been awake for quite some time, hands as active as they were in their caresses to her side and stomach.
"Nikola?" she asked softly, trying to distance them just a little. He chuckled again at the unasked question.
"I never carry a firearm Helen, you know that."
"Incorrigible," she groaned, turning around so that she could see his face. He looked tired still but his eyes were clear and she knew the worst of it had passed.
"Well you did say later," he reminded her, raising a hand to trace her cheek with a single fingertip. Despite his teasing, she could see he didn't actually follow through on her promise.
"That I did," she allowed, snuggling closer to his body. He smelt of sweat but she didn't mind, the scent was so purely him that she almost liked it. Or she would have if it wasn't a reminder of how sick he had been. He raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing.
"Though I think I meant later than now," she said, watching his face fall a little, enjoying it for a moment. "After all, you do need to get your strength back."
He grinned broadly at her, pulling her impossibly closer before rolling her over quickly, pinning her to the bed.
"My strength is fine," he whispered huskily and now it was her turn to grin. With a skilful, obviously well honed manoeuvre, she flipped them again, straddling him.
"Really?" she asked softly, trying to hide the victorious smirk that spread across the face.
"Well," he mused, "I suppose I could let you do the work now and later, when I feel up to it, I'll…" he trailed off suggestively as his hands trailed up her sides.
"Or," she said, rolling off him, curling up to his side, "we could just do this until we're both feeling better."
"Or that," he agreed, holding her close.