Disclaimer: I do not own Sanctuary.

A/N: Ok part 2! Again, I am totally winging this guys sooo I have no idea how long it will be. Also I might throw some Abby/Will smut love in this chapter or some other chapter. But technically I would have to say that this is essentially a PWP. Just fluffiness and loving.

Oh and I must warn you all now. If you do not like the concept or are offended by thoughts of voyeurism please do not read. I know some people get squeamish about being watched or watching. And let it be known now, in my universe, Ashley is alive! The Druitt's have a child!

Oh and for clarification, my author's note in the first chapter was related to this story. Who should the next victim be in our little Magnus/Druitt sexcapades?


"Abby! I'm home!" Will closed the front door, dropping his briefcase next to the potted plant they kept near the entrance, "Abby?"

Will loosened his tie as he slid his jacket off. He wanted to get out of the constricting suit as soon as possible. After having spent more than 12 hours being choked by that tie and being bugged down by the jacket, he was ready to just go au natural and scream "to hell with it!" at the top of his lungs. When the heavy article of clothing was off he made his way to the living room and tossed the two articles of clothing onto the back of the loveseat just as his wife popped her head out of the kitchen.

"Hey you!" the enthusiastic energy that Abby exuded was a beacon of comfort for William Zimmerman. He sighed airily with a stroke of happiness and spread his arms out horizontally in front his body. He slackened his face into a perfect image of a brain dead human as he performed a mock zombie walk towards her.

"Must. Hug. Now." He emphasized each word with a stomp. Giggling, the blonde haired angel of his dreams squealed and made her way towards the dining room, only to be pursued by her husband. She managed to make it to the other side of the dining room table before brandishing a wooden spoon towards him.

"No," she ducked left and he followed, "Will, stop. I'm warning you!" she feigned right then burst left towards the living room hoping for escape. But Will was expecting the move and instantly shot to his right to follow and catch her. One arm wrapped around her waist and fingers on his other hand began to tickle her ribs. Laughter erupted from Abby intermixed with shrieks of 'nos' and 'stops'.

"Are you gonna hug me now?" intervened Will as his fingers relented for a few seconds to give her time to take in air and respond. His wife did just that, taking in huge gulps of air as she calmed her adrenaline down before giving him a playful glare of defiance.

"Fine, you get a hug," she interjected with each breath, "but just ONE hug!"

"And a kiss?" Will's lips formed into a huge smooch as his fingers curled once more and moved into tickling position. He enjoyed the sight of the young woman squirming, trying to get away from his impressive tickling skills.

"Yes! A kiss too!" she hollered before his fingers could make contact with her sensitive side again. Somehow in their little tickle fight, they had both collapsed onto the large cream couch. She was lying on her back and tucked in the corner and her husband loomed over her with his knees digging into the cushions. His legs were on either side of hers.

Will felt the slender arms of his wife wrap around his neck and pull him down into a bear hug. He had to laugh as he returned the hug with equal force and devotion before pulling back and leaning down to capture her mouth in a slow tender kiss. His tongue darted out to trace her upper then lower lips, respectfully asking for entrance. She flowered open her mouth, giving him all the access he needed. Sensually, his tongue began to probe the small space, relishing the taste of honey and citrus that always seemed to accompany her.

Abby moaned underneath her husband, his tongue was doing some rather magnificent things to her body. She was becoming rather light headed from the lack of oxygen and was thankful and depressed when Will pulled away to intake a huge breath. She did the same as her fingers interlocked around his neck.

"Welcome home, Dr. Zimmerman," she stated with a large smile on her face.

"Well hello to you too, Mrs. Zimmerman," Will replied with a shy grin. He reached up to straighten his glasses, which had skewed during their kiss, but his wife beat him to the punch. She removed them altogether and planted a kiss to his nose.

"How was work?" she placed his glasses on the side table before turning her gaze back at him and settling back down into the thick cushions rather comfortably.

"Good. Really good," he nodded his head in time with each syllable but he saw the look in Abby's eyes and sighed, "alright not so good. Bearable, but long. I had to perform a surgery on a patient that wasn't even mine because his doctor woke up late in the Caribbean after drinking too much the night before and missed his flight. Don't get me wrong!" he reassured her when he saw the horrified look on her face. "The surgery was a success, but just a pain. I could've sworn my heart stopped every time his blood pressure dropped!"

Abby noticed the stress lines around her husband's blue eyes. The strain was obviously there, lingering just underneath that usual vibrant twinkle. Fingers traced the corners of his eyes, traveling down his cheek and finally over his lips. "I'm sorry to hear that, sweety."

Will just shook his head and pressed a finger firmly to her lips to silence any other comments she had, "no. It wasn't your fault. Just a bad day," he told her before rolling off to the side and dragging her along to sit on top of him. He nuzzled her neck and hung his arms loosely around her waist. "So what's for dinner? I barely had time to stop and pick up a sandwich."

"Oh! My poor baby!" she crowed with motherly concern before rubbing his stomach and standing up, "I made some beef stew earlier. When I saw you pull up I started to reheat it." She practically pranced into the kitchen twirling her wooden spoon around as she called out, "I also bought some of that Italian bread you love from the store. You can eat it with that."

"Sounds good," he hollered back to her, "I'm just gonna grab a shower. I feel like I have parasites crawling all over me ya know?" he shivered subconsciously as his hands began to scratch over his chest and arms, "with all that scrubbing and blood."

"Alrighty. I'll come get you when this is all done."

With that, Will stood and made his way upstairs, feet trudging on the carpet. Reaching the master bedroom, he shed his dress shirt into the hamper followed by his socks and pants. He hung his belt in the closet and placed his shoes on the rack, knowing that his wife was a bit of an organizational freak. He learned earlier during their dates that although it wasn't an obsessive compulsion, she preferred to have everything back in its original setting. Her excuse of "better to just do it now then do it later" had him relatively convinced.

Satisfied that everything was in order, he dropped his boxers and tossed that into the hamper as well. He entered the spotless white en suite bathroom and made his way towards the linen cabinet. He sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the cold tiles underneath his feet, causing him to hop around for a bit from the sensation. Grabbing a nice fluffy white towel, he turned towards the shower, turned it on, and let the water warm up.

Whistling a little tune, Will turned to face the mirror and tossed the towel onto the sink counter. He looked himself up and down before turning his head towards the slightly open bathroom door. The bedroom, from what he could see, was empty. Good. Turning back to his reflection, the young cardiologist lifted his arms and began to flex. Driving, sifting through paperwork, performing surgeries that would keep him on his feet for hours, and attending meetings rarely gave doctors time to build a regiment of exercise.

Will had to admit that he still looked good. His body had not given out like most doctors did the first two years into their practice. His arms were still solid, had good muscle definition. He brought his arms into 90 degree angles with fists facing the ceiling and watched as his biceps and triceps bulged from the pressure.

"Not bad. Not bad," he murmured. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped one arm curling it toward his hip to get a better look at the muscles at his shoulders, even twisting sideways to get a better view. He liked what he saw so far. Loosening his arms, he let them flop back to his sides before facing the mirror again. He looked at his chest and traced the definition between his pectorals. Still prominent, even his abs was still defined.

"Still got the six pack," he nodded his head and spread his legs shoulder width apart and flexed his arms against his lower abdominals. This effectively flexed his shoulders, arms, and chest at the same time.

"Looking good there, Mr. Universe," came a rather amused voice from the doorway. Will turned on his bare heel and saw his wife leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, and staring at him. There was a huge grin on her face, telling him that she had been standing there long enough to hear most, if not all, of his self pep talk.

"Abby!" Will reached sideways and grabbed the towel, placing it strategically over his groin as a flush of absolute embarrassment and mortification formed over his face. "I…uh…I was just…just…um…"

"Relearning basic human anatomy?" she finished for him helpfully, still with that massive grin. She was enjoying her husband's acute embarrassment over this little incident. She knew that Will wasn't arrogant about his body. Although he was slightly self conscience at times it never manifested to the degree of him flexing in front of the bathroom mirror. She concluded that he was probably going through some sort of phase. Maybe she should work to try and reassure him that he was still as sexy as he was when they met three years ago.

"Uh…yea…human anatomy…," the blush on his cheeks was still so adorable that she had to save him. Pushing off the frame, Abby practically skipped her way towards her husband and grabbed the towel from his hand and let it purposefully drop to the floor.

"You know what Dr. Zimmerman," she whispered huskily as her eyes roved over the taut expanse of her husband's body.

"What?" he replied, suppressing the groan the wanted to slip out as her fingernails grazed over his chest towards his stomach.

"You're so damned sexy and…," she whispered intimately into his ear.

"And?" the suspense and the sexual tension were killing him. Abby's little seductive rouse was making him very eager to just pick her up and take her right on the counter. He could feel himself harden and respond to her teasing like an over eager teen.

"And…," she drew out the first vowel on purpose before nibbling on his earlobe, "the water is warm enough for you to take that shower you wanted," she giggled before giving him one last kiss and pranced her way back towards the door. She could hear the loud groan from his general direction before looking over her shoulder; hand paused delicately on the door knob.

The look on his face broke all her mental mantras of not laughing. He had his eyes closed, head tilted back, face pinched in a grimace, and a raging hard on just pointing straight at her, "you might wanna make that a cold shower sweety!"

Will heard the door close with a click and grumbled out loud. In their year and a half marriage, Abby had learned to relentlessly tease him. To the point of perfection, no less. Still grumbling rather loudly, he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair in his typical frustrated manner. He would get her back, he swore to himself. Sliding open the glass partition, Will entered the shower and let the warm water soak his chilled skin.

When that insistent throb between his legs refused to go away, he heeded his wife's suggestion and switched the temperature to cold.


"Your answer, Helen," he was using that voice. That bedroom baritone that reverberated like velvet covered steel. Commanding, seductive, and made Helen want to melt into a puddle onto the floor. The voice that demanded to be obeyed and held such a dark command she was useless in trying to resist.

"Answer? Answer to what?" she mumbled senselessly. All she wanted was for John to continue nibbling on her ear, to feel his warm breath gliding over her neck as he attacked that sensitive bundle of nerves an inch below her erratic pulse, a point that she knew he knew would drive her to distraction. However, tonight he was playing coy, slowly but surely driving her to the brink of mindless sexual insanity before giving her release. He did enjoy his torments.

"Tut, tut, tut, my dear. You must start paying closer attention," he chided gently, still using that husky dark tone. As if knowing exactly where her mind was wandering, he slowly dipped his head to brush his teeth against her thumping pulse, dropping just slightly bit lower to slide the point of his tongue against the flesh there. Instantly he felt her shiver of delight. Satisfied at her reaction, one of his hands released the counter top to gently massage her hip. His hand dropped lower until it met the hem of his maroon dress shirt that she was currently wearing.

Slowly, he dragged the pads of his fingertips along the creamy expanse of her firm outer thighs. The blunt edge of his nails slightly scratching here and there. "You should truly make an effort to answer now, my love," he urged her gently, fingers rising along silken skin, taking the dress shirt with him.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted. She felt his fingers pause in their path along her now exposed inner thighs. 'What was it he said?' she thought helplessly. 'An answer. He wanted an answer. An answer to what!' she groaned in frustration, 'how the fuck does he expect me to think straight while he is rubbing me so bloody close to there.'

John was currently using the pad of his thumb to rub small circles against her pubic bone. The thick appendage tucked under the edge of her lace thong to trace that prominent pubic bone before continuing to rub again.

"Yes? So you do enjoy the idea of the young Zimmerman lad staring at you with fire in his eyes? You want him to watch you shake and tremble in release after having pleasured yourself with thoughts of him?" he practically growled the words out against her ear.

'What? What, what what? What in the bloody hell is he talking about!' she mentally shouted. Her brain was currently incapable of engaging her mouth to form any response to his rather ludicrous statement. Any effort to make any such denial was thrown into oblivion when she felt two of his long, thick fingers invade her warm center, viciously pumping into her tight sheath with such force she had to grab onto his shoulders for support in fear of collapsing from the sensation.

"What is this?" he spoke with a tinge of mocked shock. "The lady is soaking wet. Are thoughts of your young lover making you ache with arousal and causing this sudden…flood?" John slowly withdrew his index and middle finger until only the tips were the only parts kept warm with her scalding heat. He waited until she relaxed a notch before driving those fingers back in, twisting them for good measure to prolong the pleasure.

"Oh God!" she moaned breathlessly, one hand dropping to wrap around his thick wrist, keeping his hand in a firm position and stopping that twisting gesture. She could only take so much of this.

"Not quite the name I was searching for, love. However, it is close," she knew that if she were to look at him right now, he would have that trademark devilish smirk printed on his face. He was purposely using his body and acquired skills to torture her. Never, in all her years of marriage to this man, would she have thought he would use the prospect of her taking on a side lover, a younger one at that, as a form of foreplay.

And never would she have thought that it would arouse her this much. But she would not be outdone. Helen Druitt was many things, but she was no coward. If he wanted to play this game with her, she would play for all she was bloody well worth.

"Yes. The idea of him watching me pleasure myself is exciting," she paused inhaling deeply, "it makes my heart race and my body tingle," Helen confessed with a breathy sensation. She felt John tense, she smirked. He had not expected that answer at all. He was confident she would have caved in and claimed that only he could excite her in such a manner with mere thought and beg for release. No, this was definitely not what he had expected. But then again, if his little nymph of a wife was so easily predictable, he would never have married her.

"Is that so?" it took years of marriage for Helen to recognize the hesitancy in his voice. As a well experienced lawyer, John was very adept at manipulating his features despite being under excessive scrutiny and controlling the tone in his voice. But despite all his gained knowledge and tricks of the trade, she could still tell when he was, as their daughter would say, full of shit.

"Very much so," she baited him. The triumph that rushed through her was easily squelched when she felt John's fingers withdraw from her heat. Disappointment filled her, thoughts that she may have pushed this game too far, prominent in her mind. Before she could react, those warm large hands encased her waist, and Helen was haphazardly lifted onto the counter with very little effort. "John! What are you doing?"

"A little test," he quipped. He silenced her protests with a long kiss, driving his tongue between her parted lips to rob her of every ounce of reason she had left before ripping his mouth away to inhale a much needed breath. "Now that I have your full attention, shall we begin?"

She was weary of him. The feral glint in his eyes the only proof she needed to ascertain that he had a plan. This did not bode well for her. When her husband set a goal, he accomplished it with such thoroughness and efficiency, it startled many people. He was a strategist at heart, and she would have to be cautious in how she proceeded from now on.

Head slanted, John latched onto her neck with vampiric intensity. His teeth scored over her pulse before suckling on the sensitive flesh. Helen moaned, her body arching at the slight pain she felt as he suckled, breasts pushing against that solid chest of his. He stepped between her thighs and she widened them in response, giving him more room. She went so far as to push herself onto the edge to press her soaked and heated core against his throbbing coming erection.

He tore his mouth away from the sweet taste of her skin and pressed his lips against hers, demanding access to her mouth. She fought him and he was forced to pull back to eye her dangerously. She glared back. He swiftly reached up and pinched her nipple. She yelped at the sensation and John was instantly on her mouth, ravaging every crevice available. His hand squeezed the firm rounded shape of her breast, relishing how easily she fit his palm before sliding down the expanse of her rib cage to grab her hip at the same time his other hand did as well.

With a swipe of his tongue, he pulled Helen closer to his body, grinding his now swollen cock against her throbbing pussy. She practically mewled into his hungry mouth as she felt that thick member of his rub oh so deliciously against her. Arms wound tightly against his neck, hips thrusting faster, needing to create more fiction.

Helen practically roared in frustration when John ripped his mouth away. Her irritation was not subdued when he released her hips and reach behind him to unlock his hold from his neck. No, she was not in the mood for anymore games. Her body was on fire, her center was aching to be touched, and her mind screamed for release. She was not in the mood to be trifled with. She broke the hold of his firm hands, her own moving to grasp the collar of his shirt before ripping it apart with all her might, buttons flying in every direction.

He arched a brow, amusement tickling the edge of his gorgeous sapphire eyes. She certainly had a vivaciousness and aggressiveness that was so utterly attractive. A streak of tearing his clothes apart left many of his fine dress shirts discarded to the bins due to his wife's eagerness, and tonight was no different. He stood in the cool kitchen, strip of chest and abdomen exposed. Before she could deal similar damage to his pants, his hands shot out with lightning speed and caught her wrists one more.

John smirked, knowing full well that he was teasing his wife. But dignity demanded that he pay her back for her earlier comments pertaining to her young lover. He raised his lovely brunette's arms up before gently easing her down onto her back. He silently sent thanks to God for his height. He was now looming over her body, face to face, as she lay, effectively pinned, underneath him.

"Who excites you?" he demanded in a low rumbling tenor. Blue eyes widened a fraction at the sudden implication his words exuded. This was his game! He wanted her to admit that only he excited her! Well she would give him a fight.

"William Zimmerman," she huffed out through clenched teeth. She noticed, with grim satisfaction, that his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Ah yes. The boy," he reiterated mockingly. Again, that wolfish grin spread over his features and John tightened his large hand around her tiny wrists, locking them firmly in place as his free hand ghosted down the length of her body to poise over that moist center. He growled and took male satisfaction when she barred her teeth at him and hissed in return. He was exerting his dominance over her body and she was fighting him, sure that if her hands were free she would be clawing at his chest at the moment.

With her thoroughly distracted, he plunged two fingers into her wet core. Unprepared for the intrusion, Helen's back arched, lifting her from the table as her walls clamped down on his fingers, pulsing and ready for release.

"Who excites you?" he repeated voice gruff from sexual frustrations.

It took Helen seconds longer to formulate any coherent thought, and even few more seconds to respond in a throaty voice, "William Zimmerman."

John's lips thinned into a very cruel line. His fingers withdrawing in such a tortuously slow pace before being plunged right back into his wife's grasping sheath. Helen's head was thrown back as a primal scream was torn from her throat, nails digging deeply into her husband's hands, she knew they would leave marks.


The door closed with a click and Abby was still chuckling to herself for a job well done. Although it was cruel to leave her husband in a state such as that, she knew it was necessary to take his mind off whatever it was that possessed him to start posing in front of the mirror. If that wasn't enough to prove that she still desired him than extra measures would be taken on her part to prove it to him. Until then, it was nice to be able to flex her sexual supremacy over him once in a while.

Humming to herself, she made her way to the hamper and found his dress shirt all balled up in there, no surprise, along with his pants. Sighing, she lifted the shirt and tried to smooth out the wrinkles that had collected there before heading back towards the bedroom door. Closing the piece of wood halfway, Abby picked up her husband's suit blazer, the one he had tossed onto the couch downstairs, and hung both the shirt and the pants onto the same hangar before propping it back against the hook.

She would have to drop those off to the dry cleaners tomorrow morning before heading off to her job interview. Which also meant, she could pick up his other suits as well. She re-opened the door and turned towards the closet. If Will had just thrown his pants and shirt in the hamper, most likely he had just aimless and carelessly put his shoes and belt in some random slot. And she was right.

His black leather belt was hanging on top of a weaved cream and green belt he usually wore with jeans. Shaking her head, she unhooked the belt and transferred it three slots down with the rest of his black leather belts. Her husband, despite being brilliant, was at times flaky. He had no sense of order and usually spent his mornings grabbing papers from the bedroom, living room, kitchen, and one awkward time, the bathroom. How one of his notes ended up in the bathroom, she would never know. Never had the courage to ask.

Turning towards the shoe rack, she noticed that Will had just carelessly thrust his shoes into the two available slots – facing the wrong direction. She sighed again as she bent down to rearrange the haphazard mess so both shoes faced the correct direction along with its neighbors. Satisfied with a job well done, she stood up and closed the light to the closet before exiting.

She made her way towards the large dresser on the far side of the room and pulled out the second drawer. She picked out a pale blue pajama bottom that held white stripes as well as the matching top before sliding the wooden material closed. For a moment, she paused. Ears strained, listening. She heard nothing. Now that was odd. Usually around this time of night, their crazy neighbor from across the street would have that weird mellow music playing. Really loudly.

She shook her head and opened the first drawer, pulling out a pair of gray boxers with stethoscopes floating around in odd angles. She turned after using her hip to close the drawer, and made her way towards the bed. She had plans to lay out her husband's clothes for his convenience before making her way down to prepare his meal. On her way past the window, Abby casually glanced out to have a little peek at their neighbor, who was usually found painting in her living room, completely oblivious to the noise that she wreaking havoc with to her neighbors.

What she saw shocked her. The petite blonde woman dropped the outfit she had fished out for her husband and stared, open mouthed and shocked, at the sight that met her eyes. There, unfolding in the conveniently wide uncovered window of her neighbor's kitchen, was her neighbor. Barely clothed and apparently enjoying the amorous advances of a male companion. Vigorously amorous considering his hand was buried between her legs!

[To be continued.]


A/N: So what do you guys think? Good, bad, so bloody awful you want to claw yours eyes out! Just kidding, hopefully none of you feel that way. Excellent cliffhanger, don't you think?

Poor Abby! Seeing Helen pinned down and…played with by John! Mhmmm.

There should be one more chapter left before this first series is completed. I use 'should' loosely. Again, I am completely winging this, ending at a certain scene and posting before continuing. It's an odd experience, but still pleasantly refreshing!

Please, read and review!

-two finger salute-

Entrenched out.