Title: Taste of More

Author: Harper

Fandom: La Femme Nikita/Absolutely Fabulous X-over

Pairing: Nikita/Saffy

Rating: R – PWP through and through

Archiving: This will be at www.realmoftheshadow.com/harper.htm with the rest of my drivel. Kim so kindly hosts it there.

A/N: I know the pairing seems downright implausible, so I guess you’ll either have to suspend disbelief or just skip this one. I’ll be at Xfjnky2@yahoo.com if you want to share your thoughts.

Nikita was bored.

There was no other explanation for her actions.  Sitting on her couch, looking at this stranger she’d invited into her home, and contemplating just what, exactly, she wanted to do with her… she wouldn’t have done that in the past, in her life before the life she was coming to terms with now.  Not that she could really remember a life other than the one she had at Section One, because somehow that life didn’t seem like it had been lived by her at all.  She was someone new now, with changes that she was uncomfortably aware of and yet unable to change and scary, predatory urges that prompted her to appease long-hidden, primal parts of her.

Like this girl… in the past, she never would have brought her home.  Now, though, there was something inside her, some type of feral animal that required its playtime, and she’d decided that it was time to indulge it.  There was really no need to reign it in.  The strictures holding her in place in the past were gone, the thin barrier between animalistic wants and humanistic rationalizations ripped almost beyond repair.  Maybe it had its genesis in the power she now knew she wielded.  The power of life and death, one that she’d exercised on more occasions than she could even remember, and some part of her, a part that she shunted away but couldn’t quite effectively hide liked the way that felt.  Like a disease, it had spread, had infected more and more aspects of her life until finally she’d decided to revel in it. She took a certain pleasure in hedonism, as was only to be expected.

And this girl… this girl was perfect.  Sitting there nervously, little smooth hands playing awkwardly with a still full glass of water, apprehensive pale blue eyes flitting up to glance with an endearing, fleeting and naïve trepidation at the blonde.  Nikita knew she painted a pretty and probably slightly frightening picture for her, almost six feet of long, sleek limbs collapsed in carefully posed dishabille across a black leather chair.  Strong legs encased in dark crimson leather, one hanging casually over the arm of the chair and the other splayed out before her, bared the intimate vee between them as clearly as her gaze bared her seductive intent.  Her hands didn’t fidget in nervousness, just rested calmly against the cool, smooth leather of the chair, cleanly manicured nails only barely scratching its surface. She was the picture of calm and composed, her every movement measured and deliberate.

She flaunted her sexuality, much as she always did, well aware of its hypnotic effect on people. Her shirt was tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination, dense black fabric pulled taut across the flat plane of her stomach, buttons straining across her chest, unable to keep the brilliant hint of white skin beneath from being displayed.  Her eyes, her most formidable weapon in an already vast seductive arsenal, burned hotly over the lowered dark lenses of black cat-eye glasses.  Full lips pursed, giving her a stern look, and she admired the girl’s fortitude.  She didn’t back down from this full-frontal assault, at the very least.

“Tell me your name again,” Nikita demanded, her words clipped, her tone cool.  She knew all about interrogation and intimidation, about how to throw someone off-guard.  With this girl, it was all just an exercise in child’s play, really, but Nikita wanted it anyway.  She wanted to see the fear there, battling impotently with desire.

There was a brief pause, a tiny moment when Nikita thought that the girl would run, that she would let the protective part of herself take over, the part that urged her to flee, to return to something safe and familiar and normal.  But, the girl didn’t do that, and she watched with interest as the little wallflower took a deep breath, and she straightened slim shoulders, pushed her far too homely glasses up even further on her nose, and spoke with a strength Nikita was sure she didn’t feel.  “Saffold, but everyone calls me Saffy.”

Nikita had known that, of course.  This wasn’t a girl purchased made to order.  No, her new little diversion had been wooed, had been carefully scouted in the minutes prior to the execution of her initial seduction.  Searing glances and a few less than subtle touches, and through her confusion the girl had been willing to follow her, to leave behind the slightly frumpy, trying too desperately hard to be something she was not older woman she’d been shopping with.  Not that it was difficult to slip away.  The woman had been far too preoccupied with her own thoughts, or perhaps too drunk, to even notice.  Just a, “Well, go on then, sweetie darling.  I’ll get Patsy to pick me up,” and she’d been able to pull the girl away, to wrap their fingers together and hold onto her tightly, despite the weak little tugs and half-voiced protestations that they were in public.

“Is the water not good, Saffy?” Nikita asked, her voice as enticingly beautiful yet insidiously deadly as the golden gaze of a cobra preparing to strike.

At the words, Saffy jumped, wide blue eyes looking down at her lap in amazement as if the glass had been all but forgotten. “No, of course not. I mean, I’m sure its good because water is rarely bad unless it hasn’t been properly treated, but I’m not…” she paused, trailing off as she realized how silly she must look, babbling on in front of this gorgeous and unnervingly calm woman watching her every move with the unwavering eyes of a predator. “I’m not that thirsty,” she finished weakly.

Nikita smiled faintly, comfortable with the shiver of excitement she felt run down her spine. She wondered when fear had begun to arouse her. “Then why don’t you put it away.”

For a moment, Saffy blinked dumbly. unsure what Nikita meant by that. So, full of uncertainty, she stood up slowly, cursing the impulse that had driven her to follow the other woman back to her apartment. She should have known better, should have tamped down the intense desire that had barely outweighed the sheer shock of knowing that the model-esque blonde was flirting with her, was trying to seduce her. But, it was a combination she couldn’t resist, really, and so she’d left her mother stumbling through some shop or another, drunk and oblivious to her daughter’s antics. Much as she had always been oblivious to Saffy’s antics, few as they were.

Her feet took her to the kitchen though her brain was running on something less sophisticated than autopilot, and she set the glass down in the sink and wrapped her hands around the edge of the counter, leaning into it with a nervous sigh. Now that she was here, part of her wanted to escape. It was sheer stupidity, going home with a stranger. For all she knew, the other woman could be psychotic, a killer.

Long arms wrapped easily around her waist, startling her, and her heart nearly burst through her chest. She hadn’t heard the other woman approach her, hadn’t even had a clue that she was no longer alone in the kitchen. Now she was thoroughly trapped, nearly six feet of shockingly strong woman holding her in place.

One hand left her midsection to snake its way up, brushing her hair back over her shoulder and tilting her head to the side. Goosebumps traced a path up the exposed skin, sending a shiver down her spine that warm lips did little to halt. She moaned as she felt the heat of the other woman’s tongue against her skin, as she felt the sharp edge of teeth scrape lightly over her.

“Let’s consider the pleasantries out of the way, shall we?” Nikita breathed into the other woman’s ear, her smoky tone eliciting a moan.

Head dropping forward as she felt her knees go weak, Saffy barely managed a strangled, “Yes, please.”

Nikita smiled a feral smile at that, the gesture one that would have frozen Saffy’s blood if she could have seen it. Her prey, her precious hand-picked lamb, was more than ready for the taking.

Skilled hands moved quickly underneath Saffy’s thick wool sweater, sliding up smooth skin to cup surprisingly full breasts. All of the bulky, unflattering material hid the other woman’s shape, and Nikita found that she was pleasantly surprised to learn that her prey had just the right proportion of feminine curves. Frustrated by the last remaining barrier, her fingers snaked under the confines of Saffy’s bra, pushing the offending material up and out of the way.

“Oh, yes,” Saffy gasped as she felt the delightful pinch of strong fingers on her nipples, drawing forth just the right amount of pleasure and pain. The affirmation excited Nikita, tore away one of the last few vestiges of hesitation she had unwillingly retained. It was, in her mind, permission to do as she pleased with no further need for validation. Free now, reassured that her touches would be welcome, she scraped her nails down Saffy’s soft belly.

At the unexpected move, Saffy’s hips bucked forward, contacting somewhat painfully with the hard edge of the counter. Air hissing through her teeth, she pulled back, one hand reaching behind her blindly to try to find purchase on slick crimson leather. Her fingers slid off rock hard muscle but she persisted, needing something to tether her to the ground.

Teeth were at her throat, biting, unmindful of the potential for bruises and the raw, red impression left behind by pointed canines and sharp incisors. Short nails were scoring her skin, tracing up and down her belly, her sides and over her breasts, pausing occasionally to cup the flesh there, to squeeze it tightly. For a moment, Saffy wondered how she had found herself where she was, on the receiving end of the most blatantly sexual encounter she’d ever had. She wasn’t completely inexperienced, but she’d certainly never been a part of anything like what was happening. She’d never felt anything so raw, so primal. Her other lovers had been gentle and considerate, touching her slowly and lightly as if touch much pressure would break her.

As Nikita raked her nails across Saffy’s upper chest, she found she quite liked the contrast.

A heavy soled boot nudged its way impatiently between her feet, kicking at her ankles. She obeyed without hesitation, spreading her legs wide, already primed to submit to the demands of the other woman. A long-fingered hand found the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled, drawing her head up with a gasp. Then full lips were on her own, demanding as they pressed hard into hers. It wasn’t a kiss of seduction. No, that part was over. This was a kiss of possession.

She felt the button of her jeans pop free, heard the rasp of her zipper, and then suddenly that hand was sliding into her white cotton panties, easily slipping into her wetness. She was taken by surprise at the quick move, used to at least a little more foreplay. Because really, with everyone else she needed it, needed that extra time to become properly aroused. Today, much to her embarrassment, she found she’d been pushed to that edge in mere minutes.

Nikita wasted no time, talented fingers finding the little brunette’s clit and attacking it with a ferocity that bordered on painful. Saffy gasped, hips bucking and nails flexing into the thick leather covering Nikita’s strong thigh. Her eyes widened as if in shock, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as breath rasped out of her lungs in a series of searing pants that left her throat burning, her mouth dry. Those teeth were at her ear now, a hot tongue delving and teasing, and she heard short, jerky cries of passion that sounded like they had to be coming from anyone else but her. Saffy had never cried out, had never been pushed to such heights that she couldn’t even control her own vocals cords, but now she stood there with lungs shuddering as if she were laying down the soundtrack for a porn movie. Each exhalation brought a higher crescendo, the cries echoing around the room to ring loudly in her ears. She thought she probably blushed but didn’t have time to do anything about the problem.

Her body was growing impossibly rigid, the pressure inside her head ramping up to a loud roar. It was painful in its intensity, even the tips of her ears vibrating with sensation, and she shook her head wildly, looking for escape. The pressure of the other woman’s fingers on her was relentless, short-circuiting her nerve endings and trapping her in a no-man’s land between pleasure and pain. Her belly contracted painfully as her jaw clenched, the sensation more than she could bear. She didn’t know whether to beg for more or to beg Nikita to stop and could do little more than try to stay on her feet as traitorous knees threatened to give way. The pleasure was painful in its intensity, more than she could handle. Too much, too fast, and she felt a bead of sweat run down between her breasts, the soft tickle in sharp contrast to the ache radiating out from her too-tense thighs.

Nikita nearly growled with satisfaction, almost feeling the confusion radiating out from the other woman. Her prey’s hips were thrusting against her hand in choppy, uncoordinated movements, and each exhalation brought forth a high-pitched, pleading cry. She felt power suffuse her, felt it run through her like electricity through a live wire. She was so, so close…

Saffy’s body spasmed in on itself as if she’d been shot, the tendons in her neck standing out in stark relief as she screamed out her pleasure for all to hear. Body instantly drained, she collapsed forward, hands braced on the counter and barely able to support her weight as her hips continued to jerk and buck. Breathing heavily, lethargy stealing through her, she nearly cried when Nikita pulled her hand free without warning, leaving her body pulsing and, oddly enough, wanting more.

When she finally managed to turn around nearly a minute later, Nikita was watching her with dark, hooded eyes. She’d unbuttoned her shirt, tossing the restrictive garment to the side along with her bra. Heavy boots had been kicked off carelessly, and skin-tight crimson pants had been unzipped, revealing a tiny triangle of sheer black silk at its apex. To Saffy, she was beyond perfect, her body a work of art, and it took everything she had in her not to salivate at the sight.

Nikita held out her hand, a smirk teasing her lips. “I’m not finished with you,” she rasped.

Trembling, Saffy reached out, taking the hand in her own. Nikita gave it a firm tug, and she followed the other woman on jellied legs, heart racing so hard she was afraid she might have a stroke.

Several hours later, as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen of her mother’s house, she fought the urge to laugh hysterically. Patsy was sitting at the table, an empty bottle of Dom lolling lazily on its side in front of her and an ashtray full of cigarette butts to her left. Her hair had long since come free of its holdings and was sticking out in several rather unfortunate directions. She had on a black fishnet top over a flimsy black bra, and was wearing a hot pink vinyl miniskirt with bright white go-go boots that came up to her knees. Her mother had her head down on the table, passed out no doubt, hand wrapped around a watered down tumbler of scotch. It was all so normal, so routine, and so at odds with what had just happened to her. She felt like someone new, like a foreign creature trapped in a mundane world she suddenly wished she hadn’t been forced to re-enter.

“It’s the she-devil,” Patsy grumbled, poking her friend Edina in the side of her head. “Hide the liquor before the little puritan takes it all away.”

Rolling her eyes, not at all amused by the woman’s antics, Saffy merely continued down the steps calmly, intent on securing herself a bottle of water and retiring up to her bedroom to relive her encounter in peace and quiet.

“Eh, what?” Edina asked, looking up groggily, the poking obviously sufficient to rouse her from her stupor. “Oh, Saffy. It’s you. Where’ve you been?”

Her mother’s hair was flattened on one side and a mass of riotous curls on the other and Saffy sighed, wondering just how it was that she could have emerged from such a creature. “I had study group in the library,” she said primly, scooting past Patsy.

“Study group, eh,” Patsy said with a smirk, reaching for a fresh cigarette. “Couldn’t find something a little better to get your engine revving?”

The words were accompanied by a series of rather vulgar hip thrusts and both of the women burst into laughter, more amused than the joke merited. Anger burned brightly behind Saffy’s eyes at the insinuation, and for a moment she was tempted to throw off her itchy sweater, to show them the bluish bruises and faint red bitemarks littering her torso, but she held back.

“Saffy with a boy,” her mother wheezed, gasping for air through her laughter, the thought more than enough to have her nearly doubled over. “As if she’d know what to do with one. Probably think his package was a bookmark.”

Resisting the urge to agree, to tell them that after her afternoon session she was fairly confident that she knew much more about what to do with girls than she ever might want to know about what to do with boys, she held her tongue.

“Laugh all you want,” she muttered, sulking.

Sobering slightly, though not enough to control the odd bout of chuckles, Edina attempted to paste on her most serious and concerned expression. “Sweetie darling, we’re sorry.”

She shot her best puppy dog eyes Saffy’s way, ignoring Patsy’s snickers.

“I’m sure,” she said drolly, attempting to walk regally up the stairs. She wanted to go, wanted to leave their teasing and laughter behind. The slip of paper in her pocket seemed to be burning a hole through the fabric, and she yearned to hide herself away in her room, to take it out and look at it and remind herself that the afternoon had been real.

The laughter resumed in full force as soon as she reached the top stair, but Saffy didn’t care. Locked away safely behind her bedroom door, she pulled out the slightly crumpled scrap with the hastily scrawled number on it.

“Give me a call sometime,” the blonde had said, lounging in her doorway in only a tanktop and bikini cut panties as she saw Saffy off, not seeming to care that anyone who wandered by would see almost all of what she had to offer.

Saffy had blushed, had ducked her head nervously and shoved the number into her pocket, debilitatingly shy in the presence of the woman she’d let do any number of things to her that she hadn’t even imagined were possible before that day.

Now she smoothed the paper out carefully, licking her lips as she looked at it. She almost wished her mother and Patsy would barge into her room, would find it and ask about itand then stand there in shock as Saffy told her that it belonged to the gorgeous blonde who’d seduced her, who’d picked her from all of the other girls out that day and taken her back to her apartment and rather thoroughly fucked her much to her delight and enjoyment. The blonde who wanted to see her again, maybe, and even if Saffy was fully aware that she was just a diversion, a pawn in a game she didn’t understand, she knew she’d go running the second one of those long, slim fingers beckoned.

Not that they’d believe her anyway, she thought with a laugh. Not boring little Saffy, who never did anything wrong and certainly never did anything that her mother and Patsy might consider worth doing.

Boring Saffy indeed, she thought, looking down at the excellently preserved set of teeth marks imprinted deeply on the underside of her wrist.

Or maybe, not so bloody boring after all.

The End