Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground. Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal.
Warning for scenes of an adult nature ahead.
The upper floor of Adam and Yvonne's cottage was a cozy library that moonlighted as a guest bedroom. Short bookcases lined the eaves with a couple of comfortable reading chairs flanking the edges. With head and footboard obscured by pillows of various sizes, a bed for lounging sat in the room's center. A low window on either end let in a pleasant breeze.
Alex was perusing the bookshelves while Hal ran through a constrained version of his routine. She had offered to teleport them home - none would be the wiser, she had argued. Except, he was reluctant to experience the crashing shock of it again. The memory that brought them here had slammed into him fully in that short span of timelessness in between. He hadn't felt the water when they arrived; all senses had been lost to the overwhelming amplification of withdrawal. When Alex had teleported them onto the beach, the sensation had fled, leaving him raw. Desolate emptiness had been replaced by what came after; the memory he had been trying to block sent him reeling. Horrors he tried to forget, but couldn't. He had learned, after Grimsay, to chain himself down; mere isolation would never be enough. The remorse of his failure hit as if it were fresh; so penetrating it made him ill.
He had been glad for the distraction of company and conversation afterwards, pulling his focus back into current events. But now, in the quiet of evening, he couldn't keep the images at bay. It would not matter how many repetitions he did. Tonight, he needed something stronger than himself to focus on.
Alex had come to sit cross-legged in one of the reading chairs near the window. She was flipping through a hardbound edition of Grimm's Fairy Tales, the silver of her rings flashing, her fringe shadowing her eyes, and her lips pursed. Hal concluded that this had to be Yvonne's collection, the books on Educational Theory being somewhat of a give away. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, Alex, unaware of his approach, was startled. He bent forward to kiss her cheek, letting her know he was going to bed. Touching her instantly incited his desire, and he ceased to second-guess his path for the evening.
Alex looked up from her book with a half smile, "So, let me see if I've got this right. Ghosts are real, obviously, as are werewolves. You're real, obviously," she grinned, closing her book. "Now so are succubi and demons. But none of the rest of this fairy tale shite is real, right?"
Hal stepped away, cocked his head thoughtfully but shrugged her question aside. Now was not the time to get into that. He beckoned with his eyes for her to join him. It was sooner than she expected, but she put the book away regardless. Alex stood with care not to hit her head on the low beam, then paused to watch him peel off his tight shirt. The realization of his intentions dawned over her features, widening her smile; she unzipped her jacket, shrugging out of it. Hal doubted he would ever tire of the pleasure he derived from merely looking at her exposed neck and shoulders, creamy white and swan elegant. Her perfect throat, accentuated by her short hair, was the first thing he had noticed about her, after all. Hal closed his eyes, pushing such thoughts away.
As Hal sat on the bed, Alex untied the sash of her dress and coaxed the material from her shoulders. He was watching her intently when the fabric fell. She slipped off her camisole and tights, approaching him in just her panties and bra. His eyes hadn't left her face, but when she came to stand next to the bed, he snaked his hand around her waist with a sense of urgency. Hal's lips softened and brushed over the rise of her belly, instantly sparking that exquisite wanting. He tilted his head up, kissing her stomach and she wound her fingers into his hair. Hal's hands were already approaching the clasp of her bra and her stomach fluttered. He was rarely so forward, usually indulging in their game of allowing her to seduce him.
"Hal," her voice was already husky and he had barely done anything to her. She had been surprised at his approach, expecting him to retain a certain old-fashioned distance due to houseguest decorum. "Are you sure you want to -"
Hal's hand dropped to cup her ass, pressing her pelvis against his chest. "I guarantee they did at ours," he assured her, blowing cool air across her skin.
Grinning, Alex pushed him backwards onto the bed and straddled his waist. She leaned in to kiss him as Hal's hands curved over her hips. He was hard underneath the stiff material of the jeans. She'd barely sunk against him, sparking their connection where their bellies touched, when he rolled onto his side, forcing her off him. Several throw cushions toppled to the floor. He propped his head into his hand to regard her slyly. "Lights out," he whispered. Alex grinned, not thinking to question the sultry velvet of his voice before she plunged the room into blackness.
"Shit that's dark," she laughed and felt Hal move on the bed next to her. He edged free of the jeans while she tried to get her eyes to adjust. Hal pulled himself closer to kiss her shoulder, the angles of his torso familiar as he pressed against her chest.
"There is a lack of ambient light this far North," he confirmed, his hand moving down her arm. He remembered when night was true black, in a time when darkness reigned.
"Can you see?" she asked, wondering. Even her ghostly night vision wasn't much of a match for the blackness in the room.
"I can see enough," he answered, trailing the back of his fingers from her wrist to her ribs. With barely a touch, he was sending shivers and sparks flaring through her. His arm dropped over her waist and he hugged her closer, so her breasts were pressed against him. The fabric felt foreign, which he moved to remedy, his fingers deftly returning to unhook the clasp of her bra. There was something about the darkness, the loss of sight, that made every touch more pronounced. She was beginning to sense that he knew, and was using it to his advantage.
The cool air hit her nipples when he pulled away to guide the straps from her shoulders. She was already pert. The soft sound of her bra hitting the wood floor was as delicate as Hal's kisses as they hovered over her neck, up her jaw and then her mouth. He kissed her deeply, giving into an intense and familiar ache that she could taste from him, setting her own yearning to fire. She curved her hand around his ribs to the tight muscles of his back, reveling in the smooth feel of his skin. Hal's fingers were trailing slowly back across her ribs as she followed the hard line of his spine to his low back, attempting to goad him closer. When his touch reached the softening curve just under her breast, she trembled. Even with their chests pressed and straining against each other, she wanted more of him. She wanted all of him.
Hal was orbiting his touch in shrinking circles. But before he reached the center, his hand pulled away. Alex moaned at the loss. But then he moved, lowering his face, and she felt his breath just over her left bud. All he was doing was breathing and she wanted to heave her breast to his mouth, demand that he take it. Take her. He began to touch her again, his hand contacting solidly with her thigh, his fingers wrapping around it, and then Alex did heave herself into his mouth. He sucked gently, an appeasement before his lips left her again. She growled in frustration and reached for him, knowing she'd find him hard under his shorts. But he had removed those as well. She was startled as her fingers wrapped over his bare skin.
Arching into her grasp, he shifted to meet her mouth once more, his hand trailing up her thigh. As his fingers lightly brushed over the fabric of her panties, he sucked at her bottom lip hungrily. She gasped into his mouth and his dick pulsed, heavy and wanting, but Hal slowed again. He was naught but a shadow, a silhouette of darker darkness in the night. Poised, she could feel his breath, mouth close to hers. He kissed her chin as a small farewell, then she felt him edge down. Another brief appeasement for her other breast. She stroked him, trying to urge him back, but he moved further away and slipped from her grasp. His lips gently sucked at the skin just above her navel as his fingers edged past the band of her undies. God yes. Hal pulled the material clear and free of her hips, coaxing her onto her back as his fingers slid down her legs painfully slow. Even his touch at her ankles was sensual, tingling with focus. She searched for him, wound her fingers through his hair and bracketed his torso with her knees, pleading with movement for him to just enter her already. A soft fingertip circled her knee, then lightly brushed the delicate skin along the backside before gently dropping her leg to his side.
With fluttery anticipation she realized what he was doing when she felt his breath over her thigh. A kiss, his tongue tasting her skin and then down. The fullness of his lips against her nearly made her come. She tightened her fingers and clung to strands of his hair as if she would fall apart otherwise. Confident and assured, his tongue entered her. Alex had to stop herself from crying out. She recalled the power of his pull when he drank from her. This was. Oh. God. He wasn't merely tasting, he was feasting on her, drinking her without blood. Alex was lost in it just as surely as he was lost in her. It could have been moments or eternity. His breath brushed her clitoris, a slender finger slipped inside, then another, coaxing. Alex came hard, exploding over the edge and spasming into his grip.
When he released her and sat up, Alex recognized the hitch in his chest as he struggled to control himself. She swallowed, coming down and breathing hard. She started to draw close her thighs, but his hands stopped her, thumbs pressing into her flesh sharply.
"We're not finished," he said huskily, his voice strained, and Alex faltered. The entire time they had been together, she had never been forced to stop him. He had always kept his control, pulling back or slowing down if he needed. But he also had never before attempted what he just had. In the darkness, Alex realized she had no way of knowing if his fangs were unsheathed.
Alex prepared herself, tightening with a coiled energy. They had discussed the risk, and even though it seemed he couldn't really hurt her, she would shock him if she had to. It was more for his protection than hers. If Hal were to succumb, her blood wouldn't appease him, merely incite.
Or not... Instead of teeth piercing through skin, she felt the hard knob of his cock slide into her with slick ease. He buried himself in her to the hilt and she groaned. Loudly. He cupped his hand over her mouth, making her remember the dream, stifling the screams of the girl at the Gardens. But then Hal's hand retreated from her mouth, trailed gently down her throat with practiced concentration to her clavicle, across her breast and down her ribs. The movement of his hips turned achingly slow, tiny teases at their lovemaking. He cupped her thigh, guiding her up with restrained strength and her breath caught with the exquisite pleasure the adjustment induced. Trusting him, she tilted her hips to meet his thrust. She was rewarded with another deliciously long stroke. God how he filled her. She must have made another moan because he released her thigh to drop his stomach against hers as he pushed into her. He tasted of sex when he muffled her moans with a kiss, sweet and bright. She returned the kiss, tried to deepen it, but he pulled back. His mouth felt different, fuller but constrained. With a shudder, she realized that in the dark, he was fucking her with his fangs out. Her heart stuttered in momentary panic, but he hadn't tried to bite her. He still felt as though he was in control.
They hadn't been able to go running in weeks, yet Alex knew his resolve from turning down blood in London still held. Contact between them had seemed to increase in ease for him ever since, as if their bond was lending him strength. Another languishing stroke and Alex found his hand. She wound her fingers through his, and then, her hips in line with the slow rhythm of his, she pushed her tongue into his mouth. Flicking against one sharp tip, she let him know that she knew. Hal slammed into her at the contact, pulsing and instantly close to coming, then strained to pull away. She tightened her grip on his hand and held the kiss, holding him to her. It was okay. As long as he didn't try to bite her it all was okay.
Hal's breath shook ragged and rent, then he squeezed her hand and groaned. He let himself go and released into her with forceful abandon. Alex felt her own orgasm rise and crest into an electric pressure a second time. She gripped him tightly through their throes and not once did she feel his teeth.
When their shaky breathing had slowed and Hal had sank against her, she uncurled her fingers from his; brought her hand to stroke the side of his face in the darkness. "What just happened?" she finally asked. He didn't answer her, so she pressed. "You weren't actually going to, were you?"
"No," his admission was hushed.
She cupped his chin, caressing his jaw. "So what then?"
Hal was reluctant. "It is what happens... if I let myself become..." he trailed off awkwardly.
"Turned on?" Alex laughed. "And that hasn't already happened 'bout eighty times now?"
Hal was silent. She couldn't even see his expression in the dark. "You've still being holding back, haven't ye?"
"A little," he finally answered, kissing her lightly.
Alex caught his kiss, held it, then nipped at his lip. 'Oh 'ave you you now?" She nuzzled his neck, teasingly. Then she whispered in his ear, "Let's make it happen again."
Careful of the latch, Adam Jacobs slipped from his house into the cool evening air. It was a dark night, the fat chunk of moon barely risen. He had left Yvonne sleeping, but couldn't find sleep himself. The conversation from supper had unsettled him, even though he had tried to play it off.
The white garden path that snaked through the heather was barely illuminated. He used it to navigate to the hulking shape of the boathouse that now doubled as a werewolf pen once a month. Sneaking around the side, he paused to give one last look at the house. His love was in the satisfied embrace of sleep, Christa's light was out, as was the light in the guest room.
With a relieved exhale, Adam brought forth his smuggled cigarette and dug his lighter out of his pocket. With a flick of the lighter, the flame sprung to life and a pale face flashed in his peripheral vision. Adam nearly lost his shit.
"Christa! Jesus H. on a fucking pogo stick!"
"Thought you quit, lob-knob," she hissed at him.
"I did," Adam flicked the flame again and lit the tip of the smoke, taking a long drag. The small ember glow cast light against her silhouette. "What are you doing out here?"
"I couldn't sleep. Figured I'd come get some fresh air. Which coincidentally, you're ruining."
"Wait, don't tell me - the idea of bomb-toting werewolves gets you all hot and bothered," Adam joked and took another drag, which he respectfully blew out sideways.
"No, it was your friend actually, if you must know."
"What? Well, he does have that, you know," Adam gestured at his face with his cigarette.
"They're sodding having sex up there. And I thought getting it through the wall was bad enough..." Christa sighed.
"What?"
"Sex, Adam. You know ALL about it."
"No, I mean, how is that even possible?" Adam sounded serious for once.
"Hey, I know he's like some vampire antique but he looked more than fully operational to me. What were you thinking with those jeans? Jesus."
Adam snickered, "Knew that'd rile you up. But no, really. Not him, her. Ghosts can't have sex. Trust me -"
"You've tried? For goodness sake Adam. You'd try anything that moved. Maybe you just didn't try hard enough cuz it's all sighs and no talk up there. They are definitely having sex."
Almost as if to prove her point, a carnal, female moan pierced the quiet, heard clearly through the open window.
"See?" Christa whispered. "Bloody irritating. At least if you're out here then you two are done."
"For now," Adam jibed distractedly. He was cocking his head to listen, straining his ears. He didn't believe it. Another moan, softer, muffled. "Well shag me sideways." Hal Yorke was getting it off with a ghost.