Turnabout

Title: Turnabout
Author: SilverFawkes
Fandom: The Invisible Man
Pairing: Darien/OFC (Alyx Silver)
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters and basic story ideas of The Invisible Man are the property of others including, but not limited to Matt Greenberg, Studios USA, Stu Segall Productions and NBC Universal. Any additional characters or story ideas are mine. I make no money from this intellectual exercise.
Timeline: Sequel to A Modicum of Restraint
Comments: *shrugs* So Darien wanted his turn.
Created: 1/16/2003


Turnabout

"We must learn to let go, to give up, to make room for the things we have prayed for and desired."
Charles Fillmore

"Your turn."

Oh crap. I know that tone, that look; she is so gonna get even with me, and any chance of a reprieve is gonna take some fast-talking on my part. With my free hand I reach out and run my fingers along her dirt smudged cheek. "Do we really need this?" I rattle the cuff, the soft clink of metal on metal surprisingly loud in the dimly lit room. The sun went down while we were cat-napping, and I only turned on the one light to try to find the keys for the cuffs. At least she's looking a bit more relaxed than earlier. Though she'd been quite justified in being upset with me. The entire plan had backfired and, instead of freeing her within minutes, it had taken hours. Hours that she'd been tied hand and foot; taunted and tortured with words; battered and bruised as a precursor to the real event that, thankfully, would never happen. But her trust, her f in in me, in all of us who were supposed to have been backing her up had been severely strained.

I had seen beyond the anger, to the hurt and fear that roiled about inside her making her lash out at any and everyone involved. The fact that she'd had her abilities hamstrung on orders before the mission had begun had been the only thing preventing her from doing some serious damage to someone, whether friend or foe. Considering the stunt she'd just pulled I knew for certain the light dose of inhibitor had finally worn off, much to my relief. Her abilities still shocked and surprised me on occasion, but compared to what happened when they were shut down, how so very unlike the woman I know she becomes, I'll gladly deal with them.

She moves my hand, kissing the palm tenderly for a long moment, which causes me to draw in a sudden breath of surprise. The simple delicate feel of her lips upon the skin of my hand creating electric tingles of pleasure throughout my body. When she releases me, I try to pull her closer but she slips out of reach, moving just a few steps away and allowing me an unobstructed view of her body that I definitely appreciate. I also notice the smudges of dirt here and there; the slight scrapes and bruises proving that the damage to her clothes was not as superficial as I had hoped. I watch her run one hand through her hair, trying to tame it for the moment, smoothing down some of the wildness.en sen she stretches, arching back for a few seconds that are more than enough for me to count every rib as the muscles slide over them. Then she straightens, her movements now slight, barely discernable, nothing more than the subtle flexing of a specific muscle, yet I can hear the soft pops as vertebrae shift back into their proper place in response.

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly going dry as I watch her. "Baby…"

She shakes her head and I snap my mouth shut on whatever it was I was gonna say. Plead, is far more likely 'cause right now, all I want is for her to be in my arms, tasting her skin, feeling her move beneath me. All she does is turn about and head straight to the bathroom, the view of her pert little ass swaying back and forth as she walks is more than enough to get the attention of at least one part of my anatomy. The door shuts, cutting off my view and when I hear the shower come on I lean back into the pillows with a discontented sigh.

I hate being cuffed, all those fun experiences with the police and prison making this particular set of jewelry not one I'm overly fond of, but using them was my idea. Hell, I've wanted to use handcuffs on her for a while now and today… well; the timing just seemed perfect. I had the cuffs from the bust and she needed the release, and needed to be reminded that she can trust me. And I needed to know that she still did.

Shifting, I open the drawer in the nightstand, looking for the lock picks I usually keep in there, but I can't find them and after a minute I remember that I took them to her place, leaving them there just in case of emergencies. I groan as I realize my other set is across the room and so far out of reach I'd need a miracle to get to them. "Shit." I tug at the cuff listlessly and let my gaze rove over the room in hopes of seeing something, a pen, letter opener, and ice pick, anything that I could use to free myself. That's when I notice the key resting on the far end of the bed.

I know I'll never reach it with my free hand so I slip down until lying nearly flat on my back and use my foot in the hopes I can pick the damn thing up in my toes. It takes some careful manipulation, the key is precariously balanced on the very edge of the bed, and I know one wrong move will send them to the floor and out of reach. Holding my breath I get them firmly between my first and second toes. Yes," I crow softly, not wanting her to overhear and ruin my escape. "Gotcha."

Bending my leg to get the key closer to my hands I feel them shift and, unable to compensate, I drop them and watch them bounce off the comforter and off the end of the bed. They connect with the foot-board on the way down, a tiny clink confirming I've pretty much blown my only chance a freedom.

Yeah, yeah, I know I could frost the damn things and snap 'em, but a glance at my wrist kills that idea. I've used up more than enough Quicksilver already and I'm betting they'll be even more cold spells before she's through with me. I have no interest in going off the deep end tonight and no access to counteragent here. It’s the one place that it's never stored. To reduce my temptation to abuse it for nefarious nighttime escapades, or so I keep being told. Right. Like I've plotted anything even vaguely resembling a heist in months. Been too busy keeping my ass from being shot off or playing bed games with the lovely lady in the next room. "Ah, hell," I mutter, knowing full well the half hard-on I'm sporting ain't useful for picking locks even if I could contort myself into a position to make the attempt. I allow myself to contemplate the mechanics of that and coming to the conclusion that I'm nowhere near limber enough. Have to work on that when I have a free moment.

I hear the shower turn off the same time the air conditioner comes on, and I shiver slightly, the vent blowing a cold breeze across my naked chest. Grumbling, I shift until under the covers, the few pillows remaining on the bed stuffed behind me as I sit awkwardly against the headboard, my arm hanging at an uncomfortable angle do to the location she's cuffed me, just to the left of center. Why'd I have to go with metal bars for my bed; was I missing prison at the time? I can't remember and decide not to worry about it and turn to contemplating how to reach the book on the floor that is just out of reach.

Rolling onto my stomach I grab the pillow lying on the floor and try to use it to drag the book closer to me, when the sound of the bathroom door opening interrupts my plans and I turn to see her. Little wisps of steam have followed her, trailing behind her like ghostly fingers not wanting to lose contact with something they see as theirs. Her hair is damp ringlets lying nearly flat against her head and far darker than normal, a deep, nearly blood red instead of its usual bright fiery appearance. Her skin is bright pink and I can smell the soap on her. What had been a smudge of dirt on her cheek has now been revealed as a bruise with a cut running along its length. I can understand her sudden need of a shower. She probably wanted to try to wash away what they had done to her, the feel of their hands on her, the smell they had most likely left behind. Hell, she would probably like to rinse the entire day away.

I roll onto my back and look her over… Hot damn, she's wearing that black silk robe that lives here and she's forgotten to tie it. Teasing me with glimpses of fresh scrubbed flesh and tightly curled damp hair that points the way lower. My cock goes from half-staff to full attention in a heartbeat.

She doesn't say a word, just looks over the situation and walks right over to the foot of the bed. Bending down she picks up the key on its little metal loop and dangles it off one finger, swaying it back and forth in the golden light of the room. Then it vanishes, her fingers wrapping about it as she glances over at me, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

I shrug. "I had to try," I say as she walks around the bed and sits down next to me. She doesn't say a word, doesn't even look at me really and, no matter how sexy she is currently looking, I begin to worry, wondering if today was one thing too many for her. I set my free hand over one of hers and she reacts with a swiftness that startles me. Within seconds I find myht hht hand tied firmly to the metal bars of the bed with the tie for the robe. Tugging experimentally I find it snug, but not overly tight and I know the silk won't chafe or rub the way the cuffs will on my other wrist.

"Al…" She cuts off my words with the simple expedient of kissing me and I allow myself to be completely distracted by her expert use of lips and tongue as she makes me forget what I'd been thinking of mere seconds ago.

She leans over me then, her chest coming even with my face and I can't help but take advantage of the situation. I part the cloth of the robe with my nose to gain access to her breasts, my tongue and teeth roving over the warm flesh to find the firm peaked nipple and draw it into my mouth.

It's the sound that catches my attention first and I jerk my head back in reaction, try to pull my hand away as well, but it’s already too late, she's moved the cuff attached to the bed, leaving my upper body spread-eagle. I tug at it futilely, not hard enough to do any harm, but more than enough to realize she's left me little leverage and less chances to free myself without resorting to using the Quicksilver.

Straddling me, her weight off me, she adjusts the pillows until I'm partially upright, my arms bent at a comfortable angle, but still restrained. The hard-on I'd been sporting moments before has melted away and I suddenly had a damn good idea of how she'd been feeling when I pulled this stunt earlier. But she's not done as I see the bandana I'd used to blindfold her floating in the air next to her. Still eerily silent she plucks it from the air and proceeds to try to set it over my eyes.

I suck in a breath and shudder. "I… I can't do this." I can hear how shaky my voice is, can feel the pounding of my heart and the staccato panting of my breathing and it’s not from lust, its fear and I'm just barely keeping myself from going all see-through on her.

"Shhh," she says softly and leans her forehead against mine as she ties the bandbehibehind my head, catching a few hairs in the knot and yanking them out with sharp tiny pinpoints of pain that seem magnified a thousand times since I can no longer see.

A wave of calm echoes through me from her, a wordless promise that I'll be safe. Then she does the last thing I expect and places the key against my palm, my fingers curling about it, and putting my captivity in my own hands - literally. I sink back into the pillows, finally able to relax a bit, and shift the key about; memorizing its contours with my fingers, until I have it placed optimally for a quick escape.

She slips off me, off the bed and I hear her bare feet padding near silently across the floor, followed by doors opening and closing in the kitchen. Though I hate to admit it, I have no idea what she is doing out there. She could be making a five-course meal or getting a drink; I have no way of knowing right now. She's not gone long, though I failed to hear her footsteps as she returned. My only clue is the sudden spot of cold dead center on my chest.

"Shit," I yelp and try to brush at it only to be reminded that I've been quite thoroughly restrained. The sensation damn near tickles as whatever it is slips lower along the contours of my chest, and my mind makes the connection. It’s an ice cube, melting and sliding down my chest, leaving a trail of cold water in its wake as it slips down my abdomen to come to rest in my navel, the remaining ice melting and the water pooling inside. I want to squirm, but know if I do the icy water will run down my sides and the goose bumps already raised will double in size.

The cold is suddenly replaced with heat as what can only be her mouth closes over the spot and her tongue laps at the moisture gathered there until every drop is gone and the goose bumps have fled to be replaced with a burgeoning hard-on. I tip my head back, I'd be staring at the ceiling if I could see anything, and groan in reaction.

For the next eternity she continues the game, icy trails followed by the heat of her mouth until I'm squirming and panting harshly. Begging her to alternately stop and continue, to quit teasing me for just a second. I'm like a dying man here; she's gone over just about every part of me except the one that's in obvious need of it. She's left teeth marks on my inner thighs, hickeys on my biceps, scratch marks on my calves, but no matter what I've said, how I've pleaded she's left my straining erection alone.

I swallow hard, my throat dry and tight. Damn, now I'm thirsty as well, unable to generate enough moisture to even clear my throat. Suddenly she's there, her lips over mine, her chilled tongue requesting entrance and when I open up I find myself gifted with an ice cube, which I greedily accept. As it melts I swallow down the resultant water, just barely aware of the fact she's left me until she returns with more ice for me to suck on and ease the dryness of my throat.

I realize she's not said a word the entire time, whereas I've almost not stopped talking. But then she's always been better about keeping silent when we play these games. I've never managed it, babbling away the entire time as if someone has flipped a switch in my brain that shuts off the monitoring system. I usually can't even remember what I've said, though she's been known to repeat it back to me word for word just to embarrass me later.

I hear herk upk up another ice cube from what I guess is a bowl on the nightstand, the distinct clink of ice to glass having become very familiar since she began this torture. How long ago I have no idea; my time sense has been completely scrambled by the variety of sensations she's put me through.

I expect her to return to my mouth, another offering to the man suffering from thirst and rampant horniness, but instead she…

"Aw, fuck!" I shout, even as my hips lift off the bed iactiaction. She… She…. Ah, crap. Oh damn. Fire and ice combined to damn near make me come instantly. She doesn't seem to notice my outburst, her mouth sliding up and down my cock in a smooth controlled motion. The ice cube on one side and the heat of her tongue making me want to alternately flinch away and arch upwards to bury myself even deeper. The ice slowly melts away the cold fading to a chill and then to nothing but warmth as she swallows me to the hilt, her throat tightening reflexively and adding a delicious pressure that leaves me with little choice but to moan and beg for her to continue.

I practically whimper when she releases me and I hear her dive into the ice again. I cringe, in preparation for what is coming even as my cock strains and twitches wanting the contact to achieve the release that has gone so far beyond need that I don’t think I've experienced anything like this before. A mindless, animal-like urge to rut, to fuck over and over again until I'm finally satisfied, and yet, I can do nothing but wait on her pleasure, her decision to let me come. Seconds later her hand, her wet cold hand grasps me in a firm grip. I arch and howl as she slowly slides her hand up and down; the heat of her mouth as she takes the head into her warmth and the chill of her hand combining to make me forget everything else. I sag against the pillows, my arms ing ing loose not capable of even begging for the release I so desperately need.

Knowing me as well as she does she brings me to the peak again and again without ever letting me go over the edge, keeping me balanced at the top and just waiting the chance to dive headfirst into the thick layer of clouds I can see so far below. I know I've lost control of the Quicksilver, felt it run across my skin and then fall away several times, but I don’t care, can't care. What little focus I can muster is concentrated on the sensations she's creating and driving me slow by painfully slow step forward with.

I shudder as she lets go of me, her hand trailing up my abdomen and across my chest until she's playing with the hair at the back of my neck. I feel her lips brushing lightly against my ear and I resist the urge to turn my head and kiss her, remaining as still as I can manage, given my pounding heart and heaving lungs.

"Tell me what you want," she whispers in my ear.

"You," is all I can manage to say through a voice gone raw with need. I have no idea what to expect next, she's kept me guessing all along and I've given up trying to anticipate her next move. Better to just relax and go with whatever her mind has come up with next. I just about cry out in relief when she, in one swift, smooth, movement, straddles me and lowers herself down on my cock.

She goes dead still once I'm buried inside of her, I can feel the silk of the robe settle across my thighs, another sensation to drive me higher, and I suddenly want nothing more than to touch her. I spend long minutes fighting the restraints as she remains perfectly still before I remember that I'm still holding the key.

I quick twist of my wrist and a practiced use of my talented fingers and I have the cuff open and my hand free. Instantly, I bury my hand in her hair, sit as upright as I can manage with my other hand still tied to the bed, and pull her to me. I take her lower lip between my teeth and bite down hard enough to drag a low groan from deep within her.

Leaning forward a bit, she trails her fingers along my arm until her hand rests over the silk tie from her robe, followed by the sensation of burning cold. I wait mere seconds and then snap the frosted cloth, shattering it, pieces falling to the floor to disintegrate into a fine powder as they make contact with the hard surface.

I twine our fingers together and wrap both our arms behind her back, trapping her against me. It’s then she begins to move, a seemingly gentle rocking of her hips that quickly fans the flames of desire and causes a burning heat to build deep within me. I lave every bit of flesh I can reach with my teeth and tongue, at first rushed, demanding, but then slower, matching her subtle, almost languorous movements.

She arches back, away from me, only my hold on her keeping her upright and I'm feeling everything she is. She'd been keeping such a tight rein on her control, that when it breaks its like a firestorm, catching me up in the rising flames and making me a part of itself. Baptism by fire. It drives us both over the edge; I hear her cry out as she shifts by some infinitesimal amount that buries me that much deeper inside of her, the muscles tightening about me to the point where its nearly painful. But what glorious pain, as I finally fall, granted that release I've been begging, pleading for. It’s breathtaking, like nothing I've experienced, and yet so very familiar.

She collapses first, her head coming forward to rest on my shoulder and I hold her close as the final ripples of ecstasy flow across my senses and echo through to her.

It’s her quiet sob that brings me back to reality, our sexual release finally triggering the emotional one I knew she needed just as badly.

"Ah, sweet thing, it's all right." I reach up and remove the blindfold, freeing her arm that was still trapped behind her back. She wraps her arms about me and shakes as I feel the warm tears slip from her cheeks and onto my chest. "It's all right, baby. It's all over." I say soothingly, hoping that if she vents the emotions now it'll allow her to sleep without dreams. Without a new set of nightmares to haunt her overnight hours.

"'Til the next time," she grumbles in a hoarse voice.

She slips off me, not that she has rea reason to stay; I'm drained dry and softening up right quick. With some encouragement from me I get us lying down under the covers. She's still crying softly, almost as if unable to stop for the moment.

I pull her close, only the faintest of hints of what's causing this sudden bout of waterworks coming through to me. But it tells me more than enough, the undertone of fear, anger, and loneliness, a deep sense of being completely alone revealing how deeply shaken she'd been by today's events.

"You were never alone," I tell her.

"Sure felt that way to me," she snaps back, and then shivers and I wrap my arms tighter about her. "I felt just like all the others must have. Alone and helpless."

"You were never alone," I repeat. "'Cause you had - have - something those others didn't."

"And, pray tell, what is that?" she asks in a tone thick with sarcasm.

"Me," I answer.

She goes still, only her ragged breathing giving away the fact she's still very much awake.

"Guess that makes me one very lucky girl." Her voice is low, rough and completely serious.

"The luckiest," I agree, going for a little self-ego stroking. I expect some snarky come back to shoot me back down with humor, but she instead levers herself up and kisses me lightly before laying back down.

The light turns itself off, leaving us in darkness, our heart rates slowing, our breathing becoming deep and even as sleep makes its siren call known, alone with our thoughts, but no longer lonely.


Finis