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sfa_pornbattle prompts, 'fallen in the tank' and 'breathe'. Set in and around Animus, I think.
Title: Breathe
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Nikola/Mermaid, Nikola/Helen
Summary: His first thought on falling in the tank was 'I wonder if Helen would count this in lieu of a shower'
Wordcount: 1332
Warnings/Notes: A little bit of blood, and rather a lot of implausibility
Disclaimer: Not mine
sfa_pornbattle prompts, 'fallen in the tank' and 'breathe'. Set in and around Animus, I think.Title: Breathe
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Sanctuary
Characters/Pairings: Nikola/Mermaid, Nikola/Helen
Summary: His first thought on falling in the tank was 'I wonder if Helen would count this in lieu of a shower'
Wordcount: 1332
Warnings/Notes: A little bit of blood, and rather a lot of implausibility
Disclaimer: Not mine
Breathe
Nikola's first thought on falling in the tank, he was rather bemused to say, was "I wonder if Helen would count this in lieu of a shower?" He didn't pretend to be exactly sensible in times of crisis. Still, that was one of the more inane thoughts that had ever come to him at moments of impending death.
And he did rather think death was well on its way, at that point. Just for a vague moment, as he sank. He couldn't move, couldn't swim. Somehow, he'd struck his ribs against the lip of the tank as he'd fallen, and the pain had subsequently both robbed him of the ability to move, and driven all the breath from his body, leaving him to sink like a rather dazed stone, curled around the burning in his chest. Not exactly a fortunate occurrence in incidences of drowning, you will agree.
There were so many times he really, really missed being a vampire, he thought. Rather wistfully, a vague longing, rather than with the usual fierce passion. The water, or perhaps the lack of air, seemed to dampen his usually racing thoughts. Curled around him almost like a lover, lifting his clothing, slipping beneath it, a slow, chill slide across his skin. He blinked at it, watching the surface recede above his head, dizzily aware that he should probably do something about that, but no longer quite sure what.
The searing in his chest did not abate. Nikola thought that rather unfair. Surely, if the water could quiet his thoughts, it could also put out a little fire in his chest. Surely that wasn't too much to ask?
The water's hands slipped more firmly around his waist. Chill and firm, and vaguely wispy in places, a rubbery tangle. Nikola blinked, thoughts stuttering a bit. Water did not ... Oh. Oh.
The mermaid rolled him, the seaweed tangled around her hands feathering across his skin, her fingers curling beneath his waistcoat and shirt to pattern the pebbles in his flesh. She rolled him to face her, smiling distantly, serene and majestic and worryingly mischievous. Manipulating his limbs with casual strength, parting his curled legs with the powerful muscles of her tail. Uncurling him until he lay flush against her, drifting with her beneath the surface, staring up at her in awe and no small amount of fear as her small, deceptively powerful hands cruised his spine and pressed against the failing flutter of his heart.
She smiled at him, as he vaguely wondered if his own smile had ever seemed so dangerous, and then she swooped down, her hair billowing around their heads at the motion, and ... and kissed him. Pressed cold, thin lips to his, sharp, aquatic needles of teeth pressing against his mouth through her lips, powerful tongue pressing against the panicked line of his mouth and asking, no, forcing entrance. Pushing inside, as panic forced motion into his deadened limbs, opening him up as his heart leapt with a pained tearing in his chest. And then ...
Breathe, whispered her voice in his mind, rich and vastly amused, and he realised there was air, of a kind, flowing between their lips, water and air and oxygen, from her to him, and his lungs loosened all at once from their pained seizing. Convulsed, a desperate inhalation, and he felt her laughing in his head, felt the tendrils of her amusement drift through his mind like seaweed.
He didn't care, latching on to her with limbs that remembered being a vampire's, that remembered inhuman strength, pressing himself to her with bruising force as he sucked desperately at her mouth, deepened the ... the kiss, in raw desperation to ease the burning in his chest. She didn't seem to mind, tangling her tongue around his teeth with happy abandon, curling them through the water with casual pulses of her tail as he clung to her. Tickled his aching ribs with her fingers, her laughter echoing through their minds.
The pain in his chest eased, the panicked flailing of his lungs ebbing back, and slowly, conversely, his thoughts sped up again. His genius, filtering back from the breathless fear, and his nature, perverse and curious as ever. Without the press of fear upon his chest to tell him he was dying, Nikola relaxed and, after a moment, grinned a vaguely dangerous grin all his own, tangled his own amusement through the echoes of hers.
And then, he moved chilled, stiff hands of his own, slipped them through her arms and down the curve of her back, let them bounce and bump against the lines of scales, dip into the curved line of an articulated spine, follow it down, to the powerful motions of her tail, the smooth bunching and flowing of muscles beneath the scales, beneath his hands. He caressed her in his turn, as best he was able, and deepened the kiss to something more than desperation, dueled her tongue with his own with more than fear, and even grinned, fiercely and in furious memory, when those sharp, needle-like teeth of hers cut his tongue, and the iron tang of blood flowed between them.
Fierce, she mused at him, amused and vaguely appalled, a pacifist to her core, tasting his blood regardless. Recognising, in some vague way, that it was his tribute to her, a payment. He'd been a vampire far too long, and nowhere near long enough. Dangerous.
You have no idea, he sent back, and licked his blood from her teeth, carefully through the swirl of water in their mouths. He smiled, and rolled his hand through the water in a showman's gesture, tangling his fingers briefly in the ebbing billows of her hair. My thanks, fair maiden.
She laughed, a rich, ringing sensation in his head, a bubbling rush of pure joy and vicarious amusement, and then abruptly she changed their direction. Caught him tight against her, rolled them with a flick of her tail, and then powered them upwards. Grinning at his involuntary squeak, pulling that sharp, cold mouth away and leaving the sound to bubble into the water for a bare second, and then ... Then they breached the surface in a rush of spray, her hands suddenly flinging him more than holding him, and Nikola hit the side of the tank in a dazed scrabble of hands, feeling without understanding as arms wrapped around him and pulled him upwards, watching dazedly as she sank once more, as she drifted laughingly away.
"Nikola! Nikola!"
He blinked, spitting water inelegantly, and looked up into Helen's concerned face. Recognised, finally, the arms that wrapped around him, pressing against him as he shivered, digging somewhat painfully into his bruised side. Nikola blinked up at her, his Helen, and felt the soft, chiming tendrils of She Below slip from his mind, loosing him gently with the mental equivalent of a mischievous grin.
Breathe, she whispered to him, as she fell away, and Nikola caught the image, mouths tangled and teeth that weren't needles pressing against his tongue. Breathe, she instructed, as though to someone who needed prompting, and Nikola found himself grinning foolishly, watching the flicker of confusion in Helen's eyes.
Saucy lady, he breathed back, a laughing communion, and nodded, surging upwards to catch Helen's mouth with his own, to press his mouth to teeth that weren't needles, and breathe into the kiss. Well. He knew a good idea when he heard one. Don't mind if I do.
"Nikola!" Helen gasped, pushing him off, temper and reluctant amusement in her eyes as she looked down at him, soaked and bedraggled and grinning irrepressibly up at her. "Nikola, you ... What ... Oh!" A huff of frustration, and exasperation, and the amusement that she tried not to let him see, but that he could never, ever mistake. "What on earth are you doing?"
And Nikola grinned, and brushed the delight of She Below, and thought back to those first few moments in the tank, thought back to that first, vague thought.
"Taking a shower?" he hazarded, with a dazzling grin, and laughed as Helen thumped him.
Nikola's first thought on falling in the tank, he was rather bemused to say, was "I wonder if Helen would count this in lieu of a shower?" He didn't pretend to be exactly sensible in times of crisis. Still, that was one of the more inane thoughts that had ever come to him at moments of impending death.
And he did rather think death was well on its way, at that point. Just for a vague moment, as he sank. He couldn't move, couldn't swim. Somehow, he'd struck his ribs against the lip of the tank as he'd fallen, and the pain had subsequently both robbed him of the ability to move, and driven all the breath from his body, leaving him to sink like a rather dazed stone, curled around the burning in his chest. Not exactly a fortunate occurrence in incidences of drowning, you will agree.
There were so many times he really, really missed being a vampire, he thought. Rather wistfully, a vague longing, rather than with the usual fierce passion. The water, or perhaps the lack of air, seemed to dampen his usually racing thoughts. Curled around him almost like a lover, lifting his clothing, slipping beneath it, a slow, chill slide across his skin. He blinked at it, watching the surface recede above his head, dizzily aware that he should probably do something about that, but no longer quite sure what.
The searing in his chest did not abate. Nikola thought that rather unfair. Surely, if the water could quiet his thoughts, it could also put out a little fire in his chest. Surely that wasn't too much to ask?
The water's hands slipped more firmly around his waist. Chill and firm, and vaguely wispy in places, a rubbery tangle. Nikola blinked, thoughts stuttering a bit. Water did not ... Oh. Oh.
The mermaid rolled him, the seaweed tangled around her hands feathering across his skin, her fingers curling beneath his waistcoat and shirt to pattern the pebbles in his flesh. She rolled him to face her, smiling distantly, serene and majestic and worryingly mischievous. Manipulating his limbs with casual strength, parting his curled legs with the powerful muscles of her tail. Uncurling him until he lay flush against her, drifting with her beneath the surface, staring up at her in awe and no small amount of fear as her small, deceptively powerful hands cruised his spine and pressed against the failing flutter of his heart.
She smiled at him, as he vaguely wondered if his own smile had ever seemed so dangerous, and then she swooped down, her hair billowing around their heads at the motion, and ... and kissed him. Pressed cold, thin lips to his, sharp, aquatic needles of teeth pressing against his mouth through her lips, powerful tongue pressing against the panicked line of his mouth and asking, no, forcing entrance. Pushing inside, as panic forced motion into his deadened limbs, opening him up as his heart leapt with a pained tearing in his chest. And then ...
Breathe, whispered her voice in his mind, rich and vastly amused, and he realised there was air, of a kind, flowing between their lips, water and air and oxygen, from her to him, and his lungs loosened all at once from their pained seizing. Convulsed, a desperate inhalation, and he felt her laughing in his head, felt the tendrils of her amusement drift through his mind like seaweed.
He didn't care, latching on to her with limbs that remembered being a vampire's, that remembered inhuman strength, pressing himself to her with bruising force as he sucked desperately at her mouth, deepened the ... the kiss, in raw desperation to ease the burning in his chest. She didn't seem to mind, tangling her tongue around his teeth with happy abandon, curling them through the water with casual pulses of her tail as he clung to her. Tickled his aching ribs with her fingers, her laughter echoing through their minds.
The pain in his chest eased, the panicked flailing of his lungs ebbing back, and slowly, conversely, his thoughts sped up again. His genius, filtering back from the breathless fear, and his nature, perverse and curious as ever. Without the press of fear upon his chest to tell him he was dying, Nikola relaxed and, after a moment, grinned a vaguely dangerous grin all his own, tangled his own amusement through the echoes of hers.
And then, he moved chilled, stiff hands of his own, slipped them through her arms and down the curve of her back, let them bounce and bump against the lines of scales, dip into the curved line of an articulated spine, follow it down, to the powerful motions of her tail, the smooth bunching and flowing of muscles beneath the scales, beneath his hands. He caressed her in his turn, as best he was able, and deepened the kiss to something more than desperation, dueled her tongue with his own with more than fear, and even grinned, fiercely and in furious memory, when those sharp, needle-like teeth of hers cut his tongue, and the iron tang of blood flowed between them.
Fierce, she mused at him, amused and vaguely appalled, a pacifist to her core, tasting his blood regardless. Recognising, in some vague way, that it was his tribute to her, a payment. He'd been a vampire far too long, and nowhere near long enough. Dangerous.
You have no idea, he sent back, and licked his blood from her teeth, carefully through the swirl of water in their mouths. He smiled, and rolled his hand through the water in a showman's gesture, tangling his fingers briefly in the ebbing billows of her hair. My thanks, fair maiden.
She laughed, a rich, ringing sensation in his head, a bubbling rush of pure joy and vicarious amusement, and then abruptly she changed their direction. Caught him tight against her, rolled them with a flick of her tail, and then powered them upwards. Grinning at his involuntary squeak, pulling that sharp, cold mouth away and leaving the sound to bubble into the water for a bare second, and then ... Then they breached the surface in a rush of spray, her hands suddenly flinging him more than holding him, and Nikola hit the side of the tank in a dazed scrabble of hands, feeling without understanding as arms wrapped around him and pulled him upwards, watching dazedly as she sank once more, as she drifted laughingly away.
"Nikola! Nikola!"
He blinked, spitting water inelegantly, and looked up into Helen's concerned face. Recognised, finally, the arms that wrapped around him, pressing against him as he shivered, digging somewhat painfully into his bruised side. Nikola blinked up at her, his Helen, and felt the soft, chiming tendrils of She Below slip from his mind, loosing him gently with the mental equivalent of a mischievous grin.
Breathe, she whispered to him, as she fell away, and Nikola caught the image, mouths tangled and teeth that weren't needles pressing against his tongue. Breathe, she instructed, as though to someone who needed prompting, and Nikola found himself grinning foolishly, watching the flicker of confusion in Helen's eyes.
Saucy lady, he breathed back, a laughing communion, and nodded, surging upwards to catch Helen's mouth with his own, to press his mouth to teeth that weren't needles, and breathe into the kiss. Well. He knew a good idea when he heard one. Don't mind if I do.
"Nikola!" Helen gasped, pushing him off, temper and reluctant amusement in her eyes as she looked down at him, soaked and bedraggled and grinning irrepressibly up at her. "Nikola, you ... What ... Oh!" A huff of frustration, and exasperation, and the amusement that she tried not to let him see, but that he could never, ever mistake. "What on earth are you doing?"
And Nikola grinned, and brushed the delight of She Below, and thought back to those first few moments in the tank, thought back to that first, vague thought.
"Taking a shower?" he hazarded, with a dazzling grin, and laughed as Helen thumped him.
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