The Adult Denby Fanfic Site

Complexity

Diane made a mockery of Harry's will. He felt small and useless in her arms, not the strong male, not in control, and certainly not sexy, though Diane kept reassuring him that he was. Jesus, this was not easy, as the other times had been. He was completely open to her now, and the thought panicked his heart to the beating of bongo drums. What the hell had made him think of bongo drums? He shook his dark head.

So this is why, Diane thought, this is why he hid and became a hateful bastard. He was afraid. Something her mother had said to her many years before reverberated in her head.

"When someone tells you something about themselves, believe them, for they are the true and closest judge of character for themselves that you will ever meet."

This, mostly, was true in Harry's case. When he had said that he was terrified, he hadn't lied. She felt her heart constrict, constrict, yes in feelings for him. But now she just wanted to loose herself to him, to his arms, and his piercing gaze, and sexy voice. But most of all, she wanted to loose herself to his mind, body and soul, and she had the feeling that she had the right fucking flight number.

Diane laughed to herself at the image of some bleach bottle blonde passing out dime peanuts and saying to the passengers, "We'll be arriving in Harry's subconscious in 10 minutes." It caused her to chuckle.

Harry was too busy with kissing her neck and trying to forget his own mental stuff to notice Diane's chuckle. He just felt the vibrations on his lips, and it felt nice. He took his time, liking things more and more.

Harry's eyeballs rolled back under his closed lids when she sat on him and slowly took him into her body. He felt warm inside, and her moves, and moans, and his powerlessness, his chosen weakness....oh god. He felt unworthy beyond all hell. He didn't deserve her...all the shit he had done...He smelled the scent of flowers in the air, coming from her nostrils, and open mouth, thrown at him with every moan.

Her hands raped his will, they dragged his own hands away from his face, which he had covered in shame because of himself, and Diane forced him to look at her, and his hands to hold her swaying hips, and he made her move faster with his will and his hands.

Diane loved this man, loved him helpless yet so powerful as he surged inside her body, claiming it. The firm hold of his hands on her hips almost hurt but she loved the pain he inflicted on her skin...such sweet agony...oohhh...

The smell of flowers was everywhere now, Harry could smell it and feel it, he felt himself drown in it, it was flowing from everywhere, it was intoxicating, wild, unstoppable, and mesmerizing.

Diane pressed her body to his, tight, stopping his breath in his lungs, and her moan deafened him, her unconscious moves, and he felt a hand coming down on him, a godly blessing, oh god, never take her away....it was her hand, caressing his wet forehead, drying his sweaty skin. Her lips sailed in on his for a kiss.

He felt the warmth radiate from her body, and craved to get where he had been aching to get forever, to the joining of soul and body pleasure, the plateau of when you knew you were in love.

The grip on him became harder, and Diane's movements more frenzied, and it stilled his breathing again, and his heart from beating, and he felt his whole being erupt into a pool of endless bliss in her lap. The smell of flowers made him dizzy, his sight blurred, his own loud moan throbbed in his ears, and when she fell exhausted onto his body, he opened his eyes to see her, and thank her with his mute glance and dried throat.

...where are those angels when you need them....?

The volunteers were singing outside of the apartment building, too engrossed in their Christmas time cheer to notice, wow, it's two days before Christmas. Diane could hear their high-pitched soprano voices, and the deep, booming altos wandering through the air, but it did not lift her sprits. If anything, she was even more down then when she had left Harry's apartment in a mad rush after a fight.

"Hark how the bells, sweet sliver bells all seem to say, 'throw caresaway...'"

Diane shivered and pulled her wool gloves higher on her hands. Indeed, throw cares away. There were plenty of them too, enough to fill several garbage bags. The big ones, the Hefty super size ones.

"Merry merry merry Christmas..."

The group started up on the chorus. She shook her head, and balanced the case files that were loaded in her arms to only the left one, and unlocked her door. A warm shot of air hit her on the face, and she breathed it in, grateful. After setting them down on the nearby table, she picked up the several days old newspaper, and went into the kitchen to fix herself some herbal tea. She needed it, after this morning's bout with Harry.

Diane slipped the tea bag into the hot from the microwave mug of tea. She put in just a dash of natural sugar, and stirred. Bringing the cup up to her lips, she inhaled deeply and sipped. She turned to look outside of her window. It was pretty out, sunset, but with very little sun. New York in wintertime. Marvellous. Freezing your arse off apparently counted as 'holiday fun' now.

Walking into her bedroom, she quickly changed into some red flannel pyjamas. Some bright pink slippers that she had gotten half off at Payless, and she was ready for an evening of Leno and Letterman.

She was still staring at the paper, scanning over Wednesday's headlines, when she popped into the front room. She was too engrossed in the thing to notice the figure that had been sitting there for the last hour. Amazing.

When she did look up, Diane yelped, and noticed vaguely that the mug of tea hit the floor and shattered. She regained her calm however, when she recognized the person sitting on her sofa.

"Amanda."

She sat, wearing blue jeans and a grey sweater, looking like something straight out of an Armani catalogue. Her hands flittered nervously over her crossed legs, and the feet clad in the new hiking boots were shaking vigorously up and down. She sat with a heavily scribbled upon paper in front of her.

"Diane."

She made her name sound like an apology. And Diane knew exactly who she was here apologizing for. Diane set the paper down on the table, and took a seat. She wondered how Amanda got in.

"I have a few friends over at the precinct, and they were only too happy to help me with some personal business over here," she said, reading Diane's mind.

"Amanda, why are you here?"

"I don't really know. I wanted to talk to you. I had just stopped and Harry's and-"

"And he sent you over to appease me," Diane finished for her.

"No, no, Harry didn't send me. He doesn't even know I'm here. I think he'd be embarrassed if he did."

Silence.

"What's that?" Diane asked, indicating the written on paper.

"Poetry, I got bored."

"May I?"

"Sure."

Diane picked it up gingerly, feeling like she was peering into someone's soul. She didn't like the feeling.

It was all melodramatic stuff that you would find in a coffee shop, plastered along the walls with cloth tape, scribbled letters to lovers, rages taken out, hearts poured into sculptures. But one poem caught her eye.

"Harry
I knew the man
Frail and strong
Who didn't know
Where he didn't belong
His words could pierce
Deep as a knife
And no one could discern him
He once said to me "My child does not know the world, she thinks that wonders are simply faith and that trees do not sway. You ask for God to put your soul to peace, to forgive your uncertain faith in man, but to be forgiven we must first believe in sin.'
He spoke true, this man, with expectations and many priori's.
He did not conform
Nature has a funny way of breaking what does not bend."

The doorbell rang.
...I have found the angel that I needed...

Diane swung open the door and winced when it creaked on it's hinges. She really had to get that fixed.

"UPS miss."

"Yeah, thanks."

She signed the slip took the package and closed the door, not before thanking the young man with a smile. Diane walked back to the couch as she opened it, and her eyes widened when she saw the contents.

"What? What is it?"

"It's something from Jill..."

"Jill? Isn't that the ex-partner that everyone at the 15th keeps buzzing about?"

Diane gave her a look.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Amanda smiled and put her hands behind her head.

"Like I said, I have my friends."

"Ah, mysterious ways. Much like God."

"I'm no goodly figure, that's for sure."

"Your point rings true."

"Mmm. What is it?"

"Just a letter and a picture of Bobby that she forgot she had."

"Bobby?"

Diane sighed. She had a lot of explaining to do.