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Forbidden [MM/FF]

A small shiver touched his shoulders as he heard her words, his brow furrowing the tiniest of bits as he considered what was being said. It was not the measured response to hiring him, the statements of employment that he did not require in writing to know that she would keep to them. Something about her hinted she was more than willing to keep her word on such sundry matters as money and livelihood, and more than willing to break it when she wanted something from someone. That was what he frighteningly realized was the case, that she wanted something from him, and the shoe fell when she asked for the favor. The property was not hers, not truly, and he even knew the estate was contested in part by her Uncle. There was going to be a brawl over what was there, but he had a feeling Helene cared little concerning such a situation. That in fact she was getting exactly what she wanted. Him and access to the home.

His brow furrowed as he recognized that there might be a bit more to the invitation as well. Could he really deny the chance to be alone with her? His jaw clenched as he imagined the scenarios involved. Of reaching out and digging his fingers into her skin, of bruising her gorgeous flesh and making her whimper at his touch. His breathing took a sudden hitch as he dreamt of tearing her clothes off, baring her to his gaze, and the arousal shot through him like a bolt of lightning. It practically hurt to be in her presence, like he was being electrified, and his teeth came together in a clench. He fucking wanted her, like a man dying of thirst, and as they stared at each other he knew she felt the same. He could have asked for anything, but she had already granted him what he would have asked. Time with her.

He had never felt anything like this before.

His mouth was dry, so he finished his coffee before answering, tossing away his uncertainty. There was no need for it anymore and he was stupid to fight it. Resolved. He was resolved to this course of action so why would he bother struggling with it anymore. His voice held a wryness to it as he spoke the words, he knew she wanted to hear. “That’s quite a favor you’re asking, isn’t it? I’ll remember to call it in at some point. Luckily, I still have a set of spare keys to the place. You ready to go?”
 
She didn't bother to hide the pleased smile. Nodding to his question, she picked up a napkin to fastidiously clean her fingertips before balling it up, dropping it, and then sliding out from the booth. "It's unlikely my uncle will be present. I believe I overheard the minister talking about a memorial lunch at the church, so it should just be the two of us and with you having keys, it will be a simple enough matter to get in and out without fuss."

The waitress hurried over as she saw them standing, and Helene handed her a card in exchange for the bill, which she placed on the table beside their used coffee cups and the untouched sandwich. Leaning a hip against the high-back vinyl booth, she eyed him as she waited for the other woman to return with her card and the receipt. She could only imagine what he might choose when he called in the favor, and she hoped it wouldn't be something so banal as more money. From the heat in his eyes, she rather doubted it, and a little shiver passed through her in anticipation. There was something lurking behind his cool, polite veneer that she couldn't wait to experience. Her gaze traveled slowly, possessively from his face down over his body, leaving no doubt of the nature of her thoughts. It was really only a matter of which of them would make the first move.

"Here we go, Ms. Carrow." Returning to their table, Caroline the waitress handed her the printed receipt for their order and her card, smiling at the pair of them as Helene quickly scrawled her signature across the bottom and handed it back. "Hope you two have a lovely day."

"I'm quite certain we will." Was her response as she nodded at Franklin. "Let's go."


The Carlisle-Carrow estate was a gorgeous mansion set off at the end of a sprawling neighborhood of similar, old-money style mansions. High gates, hedges, and trees obscured the grounds from casual observation from anyone driving through the area, and a locked gate had to be bypassed to follow the long, winding driveway up to the house. When they reached the gate, Helene told him to stop. She had scooted forward on the truck's bench seat until her face was almost to the windshield, and was staring hard, eyes narrowed. A slow smile perked one side of her mouth and she murmured softly, "Tricky, old bitch." Glancing aside to him, she gestured. "Come with me. I'm going to need your assistance a moment."

Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and climbed out of the truck to approach the gate, staring up at it with her hands on her hips.

"It's been spelled," she said, tossing the strange words over her shoulder in a casual tone. "I'll need some of your blood to get in."
 
Franklin had kept relatively quiet as Helene paid, not a bit of chagrin in his features at the fact. He had a bit of that chivalric attitude in how he treated other people, especially ladies, but he was not a neanderthal. She was more than capable of dealing with the financial situation and in fact had employed him, had she not? He was more than willing to let her pick up the tab and pay his way in life, after all equality had to eventually come in some form and he was pretty sure that form was capitalism and the size of one’s bank account. His mind was definitely elsewhere and far beyond any embarrassment of having a lady pay for him. He could see the way she was gazing at him and it made his heart skip a complete beat as he tried to decide how he should respond to that.

He knew how he should respond, and he gave the only one that was worthwhile. He smiled. It was something he had not done yet, not like this, his expression had remained pretty neutral and severe. Now though he gave her a smile that was almost sultry, a sensual look as one side of his lips quirked upwards in a knowing gaze. It was the kind of smile that was problematically intimate, a hint that it might be a smile he was not used to giving, which meant it belonged completely to Helene. It was a smile for her, a smile that would be shared with nobody else, if she wanted it to be that way. He straightened up and stood at her beckoning and they drove. A drive he had made numerous times, so much so that he did it with practical automation. It let him daydream the tiniest of bits, a silent ride that did not require them to speak.

Until she asked him for his blood.

He had rather casually leaned out the window as they drove up, just idly sitting there with an arm hanging out, and having all the time in the world. He had just intended to step out anyways, unlocking the gate so that they could go in. Putting the car in park he walked up, reaching into his pocket to pull out keys, but then she spoke the words that just kind of startled him. Admittedly he had expected her to ask for something when they got there, but it certainly had not been his blood. He just paused, raising his eyebrows at her casual tone, and then he quite frankly and bluntly stated. Whether he was being rude, or it was just a dry sense of humor was uncertain.

“Excuse me? I didn’t hear anything in my employment contract about being a blood sacrifice.”
 
"I prefer to keep things a bit vague," Helene replied to his comment, cutting a glance and a small smirk his way. "There's no telling what all I will request of you. This though will only take a moment and just a small amount of blood. It's a fairly rudimentary barrier, but that was my mother for you. She knew just enough to be troublesome." Dropping her hands to the little purse slung over her shoulder, she dug in it a moment before coming up with a small black-handled Spyderco folding knife, which she then casually tossed to Franklin. "A shallow cut will do, no need to be dramatic about it."

Reaching behind herself, she gripped the little teardrop shaped zipper pull on the back of her dress and tugged it down to unzip it until it drooped away from her shoulders. The bra underneath was the same barely-there scarlet lace, providing a delicate cradle for the pale, soft breasts that looked to be just about a perfect handful for someone like him. An arm crossed just under her bust to keep the dress from falling completely away as she turned to him. "Put it on my forehead, lips, and over my heart. That should be sufficient." There was no hesitation or lack of confidence in her voice or manner that he would decide to do anything other than what she had requested, though a golden eyebrow was lifted just slightly in challenge. She knew he didn't understand, and most people would balk at such an odd and seemingly insane demand. Time to see what Franklin would choose to do, at least in this one instance.
 
Stunned.

Stunned was a good word as Helene kept up whatever joke she had going, the smirk on her face truly hinting that it was a joke. Isn’t that exactly what was happening here? A funny little joke on her part that would lead to a bit of laughter at the weirdness of herself and her family? His hand unconsciously caught the thrown knife, and he had not even registered he had made the move to do so. It just lay there casually captured in the palm of his hand as he struggled to finally let it all settle in. Then, then she undressed herself partially in front of him and he felt all true thought that this was some kind of prank fly from his mind in an instant. He merely stared at her as he tried to reconcile reality with the strange surrealness he felt in the air and he had a decision to make.

He had already made that decision in the café though. He had known that there was something remarkably strange about this woman. Something that did not fit with the guidelines of what he would have even remotely considered sane. She had been strange, she had been alluring, she had been a practical seductress. Now though apparently, she was some kind of witch and at some point Franklin Harker had to decide to cross that line and just get on with it as if it were common fare. He took a breath as he opened the small knife, looking down at it, and he realized that he was curious.

Curious to see where this would go, curious as to what exactly it all meant. He had long ignored curiosity, especially living in this place, but now he finally felt it. A willingness to keep going that was alien to a man like him. He gave a small little nod as he stepped forward another little bit into the oddity that was Helene’s world. He gave a swift motion across his thumb with the sharp blade, turning his hand so that the blood could bead up properly as he pressed upon the skin and he moved to look down at her. Towering there.

It was quickly done. A swipe across her forehead and bosom done first, never once letting his gaze leave her eyes, as he brought the thumb up to touch her lips. Caressing the tiniest of moment of their sultry curve.
 
She stood still and casual, head tilted slightly as he smeared a bit of blood over her forehead and chest. It perfectly matched the color of the bra and her lipstick. As his slashed fingertip crossed her lips, she allowed them to part ever so slightly, blue eyes wide and intense watching his face. There was still that hint of a smirk, but it was more in recognition of the peculiarity of the situation than some private joke being played out on him. When it came down to it, she was deadly serious in her belief that this was necessary.

Once he had finished, she turned her back to him and patted her bare shoulder to indicate that he should assist her in zipping back up. She was facing the grounds once again and some tension, almost unnoticed until it was suddenly gone, had left her body. Whatever conclusions could be drawn from their brief discussion of fate in the truck, it remained that it had been extremely fortunate for her to have met him at the funeral. Gaining access to the house would have been quite a bit more difficult without his ready assistance. Letting her eyes unfocus slightly, her bloodied lips shaped a word in a language that left a bitter, metallic taste on her tongue. She could see what he could not - the faint shimmer in the air just beyond the gate that would have caused the flesh to slough from her body as it quickly liquified. By the time she had reached the steps that led into the house, she would have resembled a melted wax figure of a woman. A crude, but effective method of deterrence that had kept her from the estate in the past.

Her uncle's car was not present, and other than a gardener who was industriously at work on the rose bushes that wrapped around a nearby gazebo, there seemed to be no one else at the house. Helene breathed a deep sigh of relief and nodded to him as she straightened one strap of the dress on her shoulder. "Perfect. Open the gate, and let's get this done." So saying, she strode back to the truck and lifted herself in to wait for him to join and drive the vehicle up to the main house. There was a little trace of his blood just below her lower lip where it had dripped when he had lifted his hand away.

When they crossed the threshold of the gate, he would feel a tiny frisson of something; a brief arrest in his chest, a feeling of paranoia suddenly there and then gone again just as swift. Small irregularities that the human mind would easily find a cause for and then dismiss once the symptoms eased and did not repeat.
 
He let out a soft entreaty, silently with his breath, as his thumb brushed across her lips. His gaze locked on her blue eyes, sensing the humor within them and that perhaps this was part of some cosmic joke, yet it did not deter him from what he was doing. There was the briefest of hesitations as if he had expected something different to occur, but it was obvious Helene was fixated on her goals here in the estate and he was perhaps compelled in the moment to assist her. Taking a small measuring glance, he almost frowned but pulling his thumb away from her lips he sucked it slightly, cleaning what blood was left upon his skin before addressing the issue of her clothing.

Did he want to kiss that shoulder? God, yes, he did, but for now he refrained from doing so for a variety of reasons. Was he welcome to do so? Would it have been something granted or something he forced upon her? That mattered. More than that though it had been years since he had touched a woman, had felt intimacy, and maybe he just was not ready for doing so quite yet. Maybe there was just a little bit of insecurity standing in the face of such a pristine, proper, and perfect woman. Yet, they were close in the moment and he was willing to make his own overture. A simple one truly as his hand came out, brushing just slightly down her spine with his rough fingers and across the clasp of her bra before catching hold of the zipper and fixing the matter.

Never let it be said he could not keep secrets, because once he was done all hint of his need had flown from his features as he adjusted and opened the gates for her. Driving up the road was a calm matter for both, yet for some reason Franklin felt as if something important had happened. As if he had passed some strange test. It was not a feeling he found strange, in truth, for her mother had often been the same…merely not in so forward a way. He kept his calm mien, his eyes fixated on the road, and ignored the strange feeling that overcame him as they did this. A feeling like this was all so very normal. A feeling…

…like coming home.

If he had skills such as hers, if he had such abilities, then he was quiet about the shiver that went along the back of his neck and the way his hairs raised. The tightening in his chest and the uncertainty that accompanied it. Would he dismiss it this time though with the oddities of what had happened? Would he accept it as the common place? Or would he associate the moment with the red scarlet of his blood, the crimson of her lips, and the hint of her panties between her thighs…
 
He drove them up the long, winding driveway to the front of the home with its clean, white stone steps and wide frosted-glass double doors. Helene exited the truck with alacrity as soon as it was parked, slipping down onto her heels and striding with purpose up to the door. It was unlocked, so she opened it. There was no alarms, either mundane or otherwise that went off when she did so, so she gestured to Franklin to follow her as she made her way inside. Neither of them noticed the gardener stop and turn toward them, his shears held in a tight white-fisted grip.

The interior of the mansion was decorated in white and shades of cream and dusky rose. It was less gaudy than many of the moneyed homes that you would find in this area, but only just. Her mother had always been tasteful, but there was just something about having more money than one really needed that tended to trip them up and over the edge of stylish and into the realm of ostentatious. When her father had been alive, it had been quite different. His tastes had still been expensive, but he had despised knick-knacks and unnecessary furniture, so the rooms had been neater and more open rather than a maze of tufted chairs and chaise lounges, rococo style tables and cabinets, and the various bits that displayed sculpture and artwork that had been chosen more for their value than serving as a focal point in the décor. She paused to examine a small sculpture of a bull wrought in limestone and orange calcite. It looked out of place among the more modern pieces, sharing a marble plinth as it did with a smooth, towering sculpture of a series of interlocked metal rings. Without a word, she handed the little bull over to Franklin and then continued on toward the staircase.

"What I need will be in my mother's room. If you left anything here you care about it, you should probably grab it now, as I highly doubt my uncle will allow you on the premises once he's taken up squatting here full-time." Her voice dripped with disdain, but her expression of focused intention did not change as she began to mount the stairs, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floors.

Upstairs was more of the same in terms of decoration, with three wide hallways branching out from the landing that would lead to the various rooms on this second story. Her steps were hushed on the thick carpeting as she made her way down the hall on the right to a door set with a crystal knob. A bit of police tape hung limp and forgotten from the doorjamb on one side of it; a remnant from the investigation before her mother's death had been ruled as being from natural causes. The staff had been subjected to questions, she knew, considering how strange the elder Carrow woman's death had been, but they would have found nothing. Helene had made sure of it.

It would have humiliated her mother to have had the police tromping through her home; to have that dirty bit of garish yellow plastic tape clinging to the frame of her bedroom door. Helene plucked it off and let it flutter to the floor as she opened the door and walked inside the room where her mother had perished not barely a week ago.

Nostalgia hit her unexpectantly at the scent of her mother's perfume. She stepped out of her heels, leaving them near the door as she padded on bare feet toward the spot where they had found Belinda Carlisle-Carrow, face-down and dead, her still-pretty face twisted in a rictus of pain and horror. The spot was completely undistinguishable from the rest of the carpet, but still she knew. She stared at it a long moment before glancing up, catching her reflection in the mirrored vanity across the room. Her face was pale, but triumphant and she smiled at her own image captured in the shiny glass.

She seemed to have forgotten him until she caught sight of him as well in the mirror's reflection. Pivoting slowly, she turned back to him, the smile still on her lips. "Do you believe in magic, Mr. Harker? Real magic?"
 
He had not necessarily intended to follow her inside, not after what had happened down by the gate, and it was disconcerting to see her seem so at home in a place he had never seen her before. Certainly, this had been her childhood, but for Franklin it was still an oddity. He had agreed to bring her, accepting the strange behavior, and deciding it was time to just keep going with what was happening. He had no idea why he had made his internal pact with himself, why he had decided to just brush all of this aside and accept it, but he maybe he just needed to have a life that was a bit off kilter. He took a slow breath as he watched the slim figure moving towards the door of the mansion and placing the truck in park, he moved his large frame out to follow her within. For her it was a homecoming, for him it was like walking through a haunted mansion, the ghosts of the days he had spent here seeming to resonate within the empty halls.

She had handed him the bull statue and with a raised eyebrow he gave it a small toss in his hand before placing it in his pocket. As far as he was concerned all of this belonged to her, not her uncle, and regardless of what the family lawyers hashed out Franklin certainly felt like he was doing the right thing in letting her have access to the property. If she decided to gift him the little statue then he would accept it and put it up properly at some other point. He had never been one to glance at askance at a gift, even one so strange. The mention of gathering his things caused him to make a small derisive noise, his voice casual as he tossed off any concern over doing so. “I got what I needed before I left, never was one for worrying about what I left behind. If there’s something here, well, then I guess I didn’t need it.”

He followed her up the stairs, more out of just casual curiosity than anything else. He might be prying, but then again, he had escorted her to the premises so it only stood to reason that he would want to know what was happening. A casual glance around the place as they walked upwards, noting the strangeness of her mother’s artistic and aesthetic choices, kept him from trying to pay attention to the physique of the woman travelling in front of him. He had already gotten more than his fair share of sneak peeks at this point and maybe he did not feel like playing the role of hungry pervert just now. Though god, if he just looked at the right angle, he swore he could…

He shrugged it off.

While she imagined the moments of her mother’s death, he relived them. Hearing the police chattering, the strange uncertainty of what was happening, and the oddities involved in all of it. He had given his statement, practically noncommittal really, and then just left it alone. Sometimes it was best to just leave things alone. He had wanted no part of it and part of him considered it good riddance the old woman was dead. He watched his new employer tear off the police tape, his eyes quiet as he stood in the doorway and watched her cross the room, and his brow furrowed slightly at her words before he answered honestly.

“I believe in what I can see.”

He paused, knowing that she deserved more of an answer for some reason. “I think…I think I have no reason for fancifulness and fantasy. I also think that if I am being paid the right amount that I will believe anything. I’m practical like that. But I also wouldn’t shrug it away if I saw it. Do I believe in it? Can’t say. I’ll let you know when I see it.”
 
There was something unnerving in her direct, intense gaze as he answered her question. The corners of her lips lifted in what might have been a smile, or might have been a derisive smirk, and then she nodded and turned away to step over to a tall, locked mahogany wardrobe situated against one of the walls. “A skeptic I can deal with,” she murmured as she passed her hands over the wide doors of the wardrobe, “and I always prefer practicality to fanaticism.” Her blonde curls bobbed on her shoulder as she glanced back at him, “Never noticed anything … unusual here? Nothing uncanny? Do you recall experiencing moments of deja vu? Or strange dreams?” Her tone was light, but it was obvious she was very interested in his response. Her head remained tilted slightly toward him even as she turned her attention back to the bit of furniture in front of her.

She gripped the ivory handles on the wardrobe and gave them a few good tugs, noting that it was indeed fastened closed, though there was nothing that resembled a keyhole or other such means for unlocking the item. Frustration evident in her stance, she placed her hands on her hips and stared a long moment at the wardrobe’s doors, occasionally whispering a bit of what sounded like garbled Latin perhaps under her breath and lifting her hands to wave them in a slow, set configuration in the air just in front of herself.

Finally, she took a small step back and sighed. “The first thing you should know about magic is that it always requires a sacrifice. Blood, sex, energy, life … depending on what you are trying to do determines what will work best in any given situation, though any of those will suffice usually. My mother is not nearly so foolish as I might have wished, at least not with this. She has made it very dear to get into here, and I absolutely must.”

Her voice now had a hard edge, as did the expression on her face, though there was some slight curiosity as well. “Do you have any suggestions?”
 
She queried him with ease, and he answered with the same level of companionable conversation that she seemed to want out of him. Certainly, it paid to be on good terms with her, since she had decided to start cutting his paycheck, and it had already been quite well established that he was more than attracted to her. Of course, he had just gotten done discussing the fact of his most very realistic and practical nature. She was probably far out of his league and just wanted to jerk him around a little bit. Still, it was nice to talk in a way, her mother certainly had not gone out of her way to get to know him.

“This place was always unusual, but I kind of consider that the fault of the homeowner,” he said with pure honesty. Unlike others he had no wish to be circumspect, he left that to the upper crust. She wanted him as he was, she would get him as he was. “Truth be told your mother set the stage for a very weird household and that influences people. Makes them a bit jumpy. I won’t lie though; this house always gave me the creeps. Best to just keep to yourself at night, even if there’s nothing that’s going to jump out and say boo.”

As he spoke, he watched her, seeing her struggle to open the doors, and he gave a raised eyebrow. She could have just asked him to pry them open, but instead she made her gestures and whispers intonations and then a question. A question that hung in the air for a moment, just a moment, as Franklin got his bearings on the subject matter. Things had already taken a strange turn and that was certainly going to be the case when dealing with one of her family it seemed. Of course, Franklin came exquisitely capable of dealing with the classical definition of insanity. Especially when the insane happened to be rolling in the dough.

“Of the options available? I don’t really feel like giving my blood, wouldn’t know what kind of energy to use, and very sure I don’t want to give up my life. I’d have gone with crowbar to start, but I sex certainly sounds like a better possibility.” It was said nonplused, without really any belief that sex was on the menu.
 
Helene nodded thoughtfully about his answer in regards to the strange occurrences around the house. She supposed it was more or less what she had expected to hear, given how readily he was willing to become employed by another Carrow woman. Most people expected some eccentricities when dealing with the wealthy, but she wondered if there were perhaps things that he repressed. Or perhaps her mother had simply grown more adept than she realized.

“You’re welcome to try a crowbar if you wish, but it won’t give me access to what I want. What she has hidden away here, my true birthright, is far too valuable to be left so easily accessible.” Blue eyes were narrowed, staring intently at something that he was unable to see on the surface of the wardrobe, before she pivoted suddenly to face him. Her gaze traveled over his features, coyly searching. “So, in the short time that we have known one another, you have agreed to move states away and reside with me, you have committed trespassing and theft on my behalf, and now … well, it looks like either we fuck or we find someone to murder.” Crimson lips parted to laugh as she watched him. “I believe I saw a gardener outside when we entered, or we could always order a pizza.”

The words she spoke sounded insane, but her expression and her tone was absolutely calm and reasonable. She took a few steps away from the wardrobe to stand on a particular spot - the spot in the room where her mother had been found dead. “This is your last chance to walk away, Mr. Harker,” she said warningly, eyes glittering with some secret, dark amusement. “No one needs to know that you were here. We could have parted ways after you generously accompanied me to lunch so I wouldn’t be alone after the funeral.”

Her gaze stayed on him as she slowly lowered herself to her knees, hiking up the hem of her skirt as she did so until it was bunched up just barely covering the red silk he had glimpsed in the truck. Her smile had turned wolfish, challenging.
 
Was this a fucking setup?

There was a moment where Franklin certainly considered the idea that it was. After all, Helene had just rather succinctly illuminated his idiocy. He had fallen down the rabbit hole rather suddenly, following her along in what amounted to uncertainty and illegality. Trespassing, theft, and even the potential threat of bodily harm to some random stranger had come rather abruptly upon him. Yet he had not said no, he had in fact done nothing but answer her questions and follow along with her strange behavior as if it was commonplace. It was most certainly not commonplace. The unreality of it settled upon him, the sureness that things were disjointed and out of sorts, but then they fell into place perfectly. It crystallized before him why he was doing this and why he would continue to do so, and it all fixated on the woman who was kneeling so perfectly before him.

Maybe he was being played, but did it matter when this was the price you were being paid? No, he resolved himself and it was the last time he would ever need to do so. He moved across the room towards her, each step more self-assured than the last, the tall frame catching the light from the window as he circled just slightly, considering the woman who was there. The challenging light in her eyes, the wolfish smile across her features, and something rose inside of him. It started in the pit of his stomach, right above his groin, a bunching of his innards. It came upwards, tightening his core, causing him to stretch his shoulders to and fro as if in consideration. His neck flexed, highlighting the muscles as his jaw tightened, and suddenly he reached out to take hold of her hair. It was brutal, the cruel feeling of fingers tugging her strands to tilt her head back and he look down at her with hungry eyes.

His voice was unlike anything it had been before, a low gravelly resonance as he whispered. “I’m not walking away.”

Franklin knew deep down why he never went into town for a drink, why he avoided the company of women. Why he had chosen such lonely employment with the absence of others. Because Franklin was a monster, he just did his best to not feed that side of himself. Helene though, Helene seemed to want to see that part, and his brow furrowed as he let out a slow low hiss. He could have left it with just his words, but no, sometimes you had to prove yourself. Sometimes a promise meant making damned sure you followed through. His other hand came briefly to touch her chin, before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, pulling free that thick cock. He held it, the shaft already achingly hard, bringing it near her lovely red lips and he whispered once more. No, he growled.

“I was here.”
 
She was watching him with interest as he crossed the room, face lifting to maintain that intense eye contact as he neared and his broad form loomed over her. Ruby lips parted, and …were her teeth a little sharper than they should be? No, certainly a trick of light and shadow. It was softness and wet warmth that greeted him; plush-velvet lips and the liquid-smooth glide of her tongue as she opened to him. A pleased murmuring accompanied this taste. Blue eyes remained wide, watching. Fixated.

Her mouth teased a long moment, an almost delicate and timid-seeming exploration of his shaft before she shifted on her knees and let the head of his cock slip fully inside. She paused there, resting it on the moist pillow of her tongue. The challenge in her gaze was still present, as well as a dark amusement. Monster recognizing monster.

Tears gathered abruptly in her eyes as she pushed herself forward, his cock crashing hard into the back of her throat. She choked, exhaled through her nose, and pushed again. Her throat clenched convulsively against the intrusion, and her pale skin flushed. Helene held it there until her vision blurred with the desperation to breathe, his features swimming in her view as she strangled herself on him.

When she rocked back on her knees to disengage, she coughed once and then laughed, letting the saliva drip from her still-perfect lipsticked mouth to be smeared into the carpeting. Her voice was breathless and roughened from the abuse she had inflicted as she crawled to the side and then rose to her feet once again. “While this is certainly amusing, it isn’t quite right.” Turning her back to him, she reached over her shoulder to pat her fingers near the zipper on her dress. “Sympathetic magic is likely our best bet here,” she continued, musing more to herself than speaking directly to him, “I don’t suppose you ever fucked my mother?” A glance over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

Without actually waiting for a reply, she shrugged and gathered her hair to the side to make the removing of her dress a slightly simpler process. “Fuck me here, Mr. Harker,” she said, tracing a small area with her foot - the very space where the elder Carrow woman had been found dead. “And make it hurt. I believe she was in quite a lot of pain.”
 
It was unfathomably pleasurable.

What had he expected when he came up to her? That she would be some unwilling participant in the act? That she would let him have control of the moment and do what he wanted to her? No, certainly she was not. She was decadence incarnate as she rammed her face down on his thick cock, the shaft pulsing deep in her throat. His hands tightened in her hair, holding her there, feeling the way she convulsed over his pulsing prick. His stomach tightened as he rolled his hips just a little, feeling how deep he could get himself within her, wanting to fucking make her throat bulge with that shaft. His eyes fucking shuddered closed until he heard her need to breathe, pulling herself back from the brink of unconsciousness and his hands relaxed as she did so. His own breathing somewhat strangled as he dealt with the euphoric chemicals pounding their way into his brain.

There was nothing human in the eyes that regarded Helene as she stood and turned around, glancing back at him as she did so. Her words did not change his thoughts no matter how sickening they might be in their intention. Whatever doubts he had, whatever sickness had permeated his soul, this man was unrepentant at the actions they were indulging in. Did it matter to him that her mother had died there? Did it matter to him what magical mumbo jumbo was spilling from the smeared lips of this fucking amazing woman? No, not in the slightest.

It was an animal that finally touched her, and it was not to remove her clothing kindly. Where another man might have hesitatingly reached out to take the time to aid her in remove the dress, sliding it down softly, caress her body with his fingertips...Franklin took hold of fabric and tore the dress along the lining of the zipper. All he did was bare her back though, uncaring in the moment as his goal was in his sights. She wanted it to hurt and there was little doubt he intended to do so as his hand took hold of her neck, his hand gripping viciously as his free hand reached beneath her dress to tug her panties down so that he could properly mount her from behind. There was no concern for lubrication, no need to care one way or the other. He was going to fit.

Fingers gripped, indelicate and cruel, pulling her tight little rear to the side so he could slide along the crevice of her ass. A small adjustment raised her up just enough so that he could lower his hips, the head of that shaft sweeping between her legs to touch on that hot little cunt. His voice was darkly delightful in the moment, inhuman as he whispered hungrily in her ear. “Like this? Right here, Ms. Helene?” A light chuffing laugh came from him as he suddenly penetrated, practically raising her off the ground as he tried to bury himself as far as he could in that first brutal stroke.
 
She wasn’t entirely ready, and so his first thrusts were incredibly tight and painful, impaling her deep without care or concern as she choked on a soft scream that barely escaped past his grip on her neck. Her body shuddered in his grasp, helpless against his assault as he began to fuck her with bruising force. Helene couldn’t turn her head, but she could look sidelong to see her reflection in the vanity mirror.

Her pale skin was flushed pink, the torn dress sliding off her shoulders to bare the lacy bra and the curling edges of the sigils branded on her torso. The skirt was bunched up around her slim waist, and her panties were trapped between her right calf and his leg. His broad hand was at her throat, and her golden curls bounced on her shoulders with each brutal thrust. She saw his expression reflected in the mirror, that animalistic hunger that she knew so very well. All this set against the peaches-and-cream background of her mother’s room.

A shadow moved across the surface of the mirror and their images rippled. When it cleared, she saw the brilliant fire of her blue eyes staring and her crimson lips opened wide in silent laughter. Mr. Harker was still there, but there was another also sharing his space; superimposed color and darkness over the man who held her like a blur in an old Polaroid photograph. Her fingers curled into the semblance of claws and she arched her back to open herself up for him, feeling the pain of penetration ease as she became wet and hot inside. That wetness dripped down her thighs as she balanced on her toes, her arms reaching behind herself to grasp at the fabric of his shirt and pants, pulling him forward even as she thrust herself back. Her nails pricked his skin through his clothing. Interspersed with her strangled moans and gasping breaths was that strange language, trickling from her lips as her gaze shifted between the image of their debauchery in the mirror to the closed wardrobe doors that concealed her birthright.



Outside, the gardener prowled just beyond the open door, unable to enter but compelled to guard. The Language of Adam drove it mad, and it howled and ripped at the thin, graying hair on its head as it paced before the unassailable portal.
 
That wet slick flesh drove him, already maddened by the sheer fact of even getting to touch a woman such as her. His hips made hard thrusting motions, each one attempting to impale her at this awkward angle. It worked in its own way, but certainly that thick cock could open her deeper should he choose to do so. In the moment though all he cared about was the sounds coming from her, the view of her within the mirror, and the power. He felt powerful, as if an electric current were running through his veins, and his breathing deepened with exultation as he continued to surge up against her. Yet, there was something almost familiar about being with this woman, as if he had already done so before. A superimposed version of reality where he had always known the touch of her beautiful flesh and the smell of her arousal.

His own eyes were feral as he gazed into the same reflection with her, admiring the amazing vista of her physique being presented so lewdly. He was unconcerned with the cruel rake of her nails, unworried about the lack of a condom, uncaring of the twisted space they inhabited during this debauched act. All he cared about was her, what she wanted, and the tight feel of her hot cunt gripping him and urging him onwards. Perhaps she had her own agenda, perhaps she was merely using him, and he would be disposed of, but sometimes you just had to appreciate the opportunities this fucked up life gave you. He would not trade this moment for anything.

Unbeknownst to him though, under his heavy breathing, he had begun to mutter with her. Slowly dripping from his lips, a pace behind her own whispered words. Franklin did not know what he was saying, he had no idea perhaps that he was even saying it, but there it was. An answering callback to her own moaning eldritch incantation. Whatever bound them had taken hold in that moment, reaching inside to strike Franklin’s soul like a chord, reverberating at the same frequency as this golden goddess in his arms.

She had wanted this, she had craved it, and now he would give her exactly what she wished. He knew it deep down, truly, as if they were inherently one in the moment. He slid out of her, his strong arms manhandling her to the ground. He was uncertain whether she would fight, whether she would struggle, and in truth he hoped she would. Something about her, her powerful mind, intrigued him. Yet, he also knew strength would win out in the process. Hands jerked her thighs wide as he remounted her, this time truly plumbing her depths as he slammed home within, fucking her exactly where her mother had died.

His eyes met hers and he smiled wolfishly. Was she pleased? He fucking hoped so.
 
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