DS Louise Gardiner (AU) [Ashes To Ashes (BBC)] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doomed_copper) wrote2012-11-14 12:41 pm
doomed_copper) wrote2012-11-14 12:41 pm
Contra Naturam, Chapter 6: Veni, Vedi, Vici.
Keats pulled his dignity together, straightening his suit and tie clip and smoothing his hair back into place. Ripping off a paper towel, he blotted the rest of the moisture from his face and turned to exit the lavatory.
"I trust the paperwork made it to your desk, sir?"
Keats scowled as soon as he opened the door, seeing the object of both his insecurity and rage suddenly before him. This was not an auspicious beginning to his week. Narrowing his eyes at Louise, he took off his glasses, and, cleaning them with a tissue, he replied breezily:
"This morning, yes. I was just getting ready to look them over. Seems the Chief Super's taken quite a shine to you, Louise..."
His voice trailed off as a calculating, haughty smirk replaced it.
"All the demands, all the manhandling, the grandstanding...and not one speck of snot on your expensive jacket. How do you do it, DS Gardiner?"
It was more of a statement than a question, and his mouth curled up condescendingly in her direction as he chuckled softly.
"So, is this your latest project, hmm?"
She stared at him motionlessly, like a deer in headlights as he stepped closer to her, lowering his mouth to her ear:
"You're a game-playing, upwardly-mobile whore, Louise; shall I tell him that in my reply when I sign off on your promotion? Shall I explain to him in great detail all the times you kneeled in front of me, begging me to touch you, allowing me to fuck you senseless, just so I could put your incompetent arse on a case instead of making you stay behind at your desk, fetching mugs of tea like a good girl?"
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, moving away from her and repositioning his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. Looking about him to make sure there was no one close by, Keats grabbed Louise and pushed her into the lavatory he'd just exited. She gasped in protest, trying to wrest free, but to no avail.
Keats positioned her in front of the large mirror above the sinks and put his hands on her shoulders. Taking one of them, he gently brushed back her hair and caressed her cheek.
"Do you see the woman standing before you, Louise? LOOK AT HER. Take her in."
His tone was hushed yet authoritative, and Louise had no choice but to assess her own reflection.
"I MADE YOU. Don't forget that, DS Gardiner. All this: the flowing, luminous curls; a perfect complexion; the expensive suits; an arrogant, almost laughable sense of authority; your now-insatiable thirst for a collar---all of it had been MY design. You'd still be a frightened, shrinking violet if I hadn't lent you a hand. And now you're using your newfound confidence to usurp MY authority? You're biting the hand that feeds you, Louise."
The back of his hand softly touched her neck before moving downwards and settling upon her hip bone. She leaned backwards instinctively against him.
"Don't tell me you're going to throw away a lucrative career under my direction just because the Chief Super dangles a carrot in front of you? I've seen him do it before: it's his game. That position hasn't been filled in years--don't tell me it hadn't crossed your mind as to why he'd picked you? Please, you're hardly ready for it; he just wants you for himself--can't you see that?"
Louise watched as his hands traced a pattern back up her arms and turned her to face him. Cupping her face in his hands, he smoothed the worry lines creasing her countenance.
"You have to trust me, Louise; I've never let you down, have I? I've helped you find your true self, the woman you've always aspired to be; remember? The Chief Super is looking for someone on the inside--he doesn't trust me; he's not above the game. Do you want to be disappointed in yourself, Louise?"
She shook her head numbly. His dark brown eyes were locked upon hers and she could see them flicker with hunger and determination. Everything within her was malfunctioning; whatever had fixed her demeanour so frozenly was dying synapse by synapse. She cocked her head to one side and a bewildered look began to spread across her face. All of a sudden she didn't know who she was, what she was, and it was draining the life from her. She felt dizzy and began to falter as every sensation began to converge, and he was right there to catch her; of course he was. He always was.
"Let's get you home, Louise; you're not looking well."
She nodded slowly, and a triumphantly smug grin turned his mouth slightly upwards as he draped his suit coat around her shoulders and led her home to her dormitory flat. She held tightly onto him the entire journey; she didn't want to be alone, and he was only too satisfied to acquiesce.
Louise arose in the middle of the night and drew the sheets to cover her as she scanned the room slowly. She caught his sleeping form out of the corner of her eye; dark lashes framing his closed eyes, his impossibly perfect ebony waves slightly askew with a few errant curls pressed against his ethereal skin. She smiled briefly. He was beautiful, younger, and almost vulnerable the way he appeared at that moment. Who was he, really? she queried silently, reaching out her hand to lightly brush the skin of his cheek. He stirred slightly, and she immediately withdrew her hand. Slowly, trying not to wake him, she slid her robe over her body and stood up, walking to the large bath at the far end of the room.
Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at herself for a long while. Her hands moved to her face, touching it as if she weren't sure it existed or if she was even here at all. She felt odd; the adrenaline and the speed which had fueled her, building with every encounter they'd had, had subsided to a dull roar within her head. Her heart felt a painful stab as she'd come to the weak, uncomfortable realisation that she hated herself for what he'd created within her.
The irony of it was in his theft on that deserted pavement, on that clouded afternoon when all of CID stared in shock as he took over and did what needed to be done. As her breath became his, as he felt her enter him, she surrendered completely to his desire without question or struggle. Their eyes had locked on one another and she needed him to take the pain, the blood, the confusion from her. And he did, sealing her to him for eternity; it was a baptism of death, not of a life yet to be lived.
Upon returning to bed, she slid underneath the covers next to him and nudged him onto his back; his eyes instinctively opened and he caught her staring intently at him. She reached out tentatively to touch his hair, and as she did so, she could feel him fighting for control. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and her lips covered his own as they langurously kissed; he couldn't stop himself. It was enough that he was even still here, in her flat; he was normally long gone by this point, but not this time. She situated herself on top of him, and, feeling his obvious awakening, took control and made him enter her. The headiness of it made her sigh under her breath. Louise craved feeling needed by him. It was almost co-dependent in the way they gravitated towards one another, and whether Keats wanted to admit it or not, his very actions by their nature proved a certain deprivation on his part. But for once, their union did not instill her with more alien mannerisms; she didn't feel that surge of ambition, that bloodlust he unwittingly transferred upon her every moment they were entangled. The rug had been swept from under her feet and she knew Keats was right about her doomed promotion; she didn't have it in her to be what they'd want---not capable enough to handle the venom they'd inject into her. She felt oddly safe.
'JIM.'
Hearing his name made him wince and he laid motionless underneath her. Soon, however, he was matching each slow thrust with one of his own until they moved rhythmically. Louise may have lost somewhat the fire of her career trajectory because of Keats' subtle manipulations, but in this area, she found herself softly dominant as he finally moaned, allowing himself to feel pleasure at her direction. He finally murmured her name, writhing in the anticipation of the deeply satiating tingle which soon turned into hard throbs, finally melting into an aching orgasm. He shuddered, letting himself come both hard yet painfully slow, her thrusting dictating the pace of his release. He bit his bottom lip, sweat pouring off of him as he finished, trying to stifle the cry that threatened to escape his lips.
No restraints had been used; no rough, nearly fully-clothed encounter, no struggle, no trepidation. The balance of power remained scarily chaotic, and to his abject horror, it was in a grave, almost-humanlike condition. He had surrendered. And worse, he'd liked it--every last, torturous drop.
The fear commandeered him so fast that he sprung into action. Easing his way out of Louise's touch, he silently dressed, icily staring at her as she looked at him, bewildered. Straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair in an effort to re-tame it, he plucked his glasses from his pocket and put them on as he threw her a derisive glance.
He was gone before she could comprehend what she'd done to earn his disdain.
However, he knew what was to come and both dreaded and relished the thought.
"I trust the paperwork made it to your desk, sir?"
Keats scowled as soon as he opened the door, seeing the object of both his insecurity and rage suddenly before him. This was not an auspicious beginning to his week. Narrowing his eyes at Louise, he took off his glasses, and, cleaning them with a tissue, he replied breezily:
"This morning, yes. I was just getting ready to look them over. Seems the Chief Super's taken quite a shine to you, Louise..."
His voice trailed off as a calculating, haughty smirk replaced it.
"All the demands, all the manhandling, the grandstanding...and not one speck of snot on your expensive jacket. How do you do it, DS Gardiner?"
It was more of a statement than a question, and his mouth curled up condescendingly in her direction as he chuckled softly.
"So, is this your latest project, hmm?"
She stared at him motionlessly, like a deer in headlights as he stepped closer to her, lowering his mouth to her ear:
"You're a game-playing, upwardly-mobile whore, Louise; shall I tell him that in my reply when I sign off on your promotion? Shall I explain to him in great detail all the times you kneeled in front of me, begging me to touch you, allowing me to fuck you senseless, just so I could put your incompetent arse on a case instead of making you stay behind at your desk, fetching mugs of tea like a good girl?"
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, moving away from her and repositioning his spectacles upon the bridge of his nose. Looking about him to make sure there was no one close by, Keats grabbed Louise and pushed her into the lavatory he'd just exited. She gasped in protest, trying to wrest free, but to no avail.
Keats positioned her in front of the large mirror above the sinks and put his hands on her shoulders. Taking one of them, he gently brushed back her hair and caressed her cheek.
"Do you see the woman standing before you, Louise? LOOK AT HER. Take her in."
His tone was hushed yet authoritative, and Louise had no choice but to assess her own reflection.
"I MADE YOU. Don't forget that, DS Gardiner. All this: the flowing, luminous curls; a perfect complexion; the expensive suits; an arrogant, almost laughable sense of authority; your now-insatiable thirst for a collar---all of it had been MY design. You'd still be a frightened, shrinking violet if I hadn't lent you a hand. And now you're using your newfound confidence to usurp MY authority? You're biting the hand that feeds you, Louise."
The back of his hand softly touched her neck before moving downwards and settling upon her hip bone. She leaned backwards instinctively against him.
"Don't tell me you're going to throw away a lucrative career under my direction just because the Chief Super dangles a carrot in front of you? I've seen him do it before: it's his game. That position hasn't been filled in years--don't tell me it hadn't crossed your mind as to why he'd picked you? Please, you're hardly ready for it; he just wants you for himself--can't you see that?"
Louise watched as his hands traced a pattern back up her arms and turned her to face him. Cupping her face in his hands, he smoothed the worry lines creasing her countenance.
"You have to trust me, Louise; I've never let you down, have I? I've helped you find your true self, the woman you've always aspired to be; remember? The Chief Super is looking for someone on the inside--he doesn't trust me; he's not above the game. Do you want to be disappointed in yourself, Louise?"
She shook her head numbly. His dark brown eyes were locked upon hers and she could see them flicker with hunger and determination. Everything within her was malfunctioning; whatever had fixed her demeanour so frozenly was dying synapse by synapse. She cocked her head to one side and a bewildered look began to spread across her face. All of a sudden she didn't know who she was, what she was, and it was draining the life from her. She felt dizzy and began to falter as every sensation began to converge, and he was right there to catch her; of course he was. He always was.
"Let's get you home, Louise; you're not looking well."
She nodded slowly, and a triumphantly smug grin turned his mouth slightly upwards as he draped his suit coat around her shoulders and led her home to her dormitory flat. She held tightly onto him the entire journey; she didn't want to be alone, and he was only too satisfied to acquiesce.
Louise arose in the middle of the night and drew the sheets to cover her as she scanned the room slowly. She caught his sleeping form out of the corner of her eye; dark lashes framing his closed eyes, his impossibly perfect ebony waves slightly askew with a few errant curls pressed against his ethereal skin. She smiled briefly. He was beautiful, younger, and almost vulnerable the way he appeared at that moment. Who was he, really? she queried silently, reaching out her hand to lightly brush the skin of his cheek. He stirred slightly, and she immediately withdrew her hand. Slowly, trying not to wake him, she slid her robe over her body and stood up, walking to the large bath at the far end of the room.
Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at herself for a long while. Her hands moved to her face, touching it as if she weren't sure it existed or if she was even here at all. She felt odd; the adrenaline and the speed which had fueled her, building with every encounter they'd had, had subsided to a dull roar within her head. Her heart felt a painful stab as she'd come to the weak, uncomfortable realisation that she hated herself for what he'd created within her.
The irony of it was in his theft on that deserted pavement, on that clouded afternoon when all of CID stared in shock as he took over and did what needed to be done. As her breath became his, as he felt her enter him, she surrendered completely to his desire without question or struggle. Their eyes had locked on one another and she needed him to take the pain, the blood, the confusion from her. And he did, sealing her to him for eternity; it was a baptism of death, not of a life yet to be lived.
Upon returning to bed, she slid underneath the covers next to him and nudged him onto his back; his eyes instinctively opened and he caught her staring intently at him. She reached out tentatively to touch his hair, and as she did so, she could feel him fighting for control. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and her lips covered his own as they langurously kissed; he couldn't stop himself. It was enough that he was even still here, in her flat; he was normally long gone by this point, but not this time. She situated herself on top of him, and, feeling his obvious awakening, took control and made him enter her. The headiness of it made her sigh under her breath. Louise craved feeling needed by him. It was almost co-dependent in the way they gravitated towards one another, and whether Keats wanted to admit it or not, his very actions by their nature proved a certain deprivation on his part. But for once, their union did not instill her with more alien mannerisms; she didn't feel that surge of ambition, that bloodlust he unwittingly transferred upon her every moment they were entangled. The rug had been swept from under her feet and she knew Keats was right about her doomed promotion; she didn't have it in her to be what they'd want---not capable enough to handle the venom they'd inject into her. She felt oddly safe.
'JIM.'
Hearing his name made him wince and he laid motionless underneath her. Soon, however, he was matching each slow thrust with one of his own until they moved rhythmically. Louise may have lost somewhat the fire of her career trajectory because of Keats' subtle manipulations, but in this area, she found herself softly dominant as he finally moaned, allowing himself to feel pleasure at her direction. He finally murmured her name, writhing in the anticipation of the deeply satiating tingle which soon turned into hard throbs, finally melting into an aching orgasm. He shuddered, letting himself come both hard yet painfully slow, her thrusting dictating the pace of his release. He bit his bottom lip, sweat pouring off of him as he finished, trying to stifle the cry that threatened to escape his lips.
No restraints had been used; no rough, nearly fully-clothed encounter, no struggle, no trepidation. The balance of power remained scarily chaotic, and to his abject horror, it was in a grave, almost-humanlike condition. He had surrendered. And worse, he'd liked it--every last, torturous drop.
The fear commandeered him so fast that he sprung into action. Easing his way out of Louise's touch, he silently dressed, icily staring at her as she looked at him, bewildered. Straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair in an effort to re-tame it, he plucked his glasses from his pocket and put them on as he threw her a derisive glance.
He was gone before she could comprehend what she'd done to earn his disdain.
However, he knew what was to come and both dreaded and relished the thought.