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heartsways - Touching Truth

LOST GIRL - BO/LAUREN

Touching Truth

heartsways

Title: Touching Truth

Author: heartsways

Rating: PG–13

Fandom: Lost Girl

Pairing: Bo/Lauren

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for–profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: Lauren’s experiences during her first medical exam of Bo – Episode 1.

Author’s Note: Personally, I think Lauren fell like a ton of bricks for Bo from the get go. So that’s what I was going with here.

Touching Truth

heartsways

The touch of a Succubus is immediate, awakening all the hidden desires a being can possess, quelling the rational urge to resist and demur. It’s the magic they hold in their fingertips that causes all reason to flee, replaced only by want and the unutterable need to satiate a deep–seated passion. It comes from nowhere, conjured up by the heat of skin against skin and the intrinsic power that a Succubus wields, and it is instantaneous, demanding and quite unrelenting.

I was never more aware of that than the first time I examined Bo. Never more conscious of the unmistakable power of contact, of touch, of the sensation of my hand on her skin. Researching how one could lose control of their faculties under the all–encompassing seduction of a Succubus touch, I was tentative. Fearful. But curiosity conquered fear, as it so often did in my job. Being afraid meant you didn’t get answers. And I knew from the moment I first saw her that I had to know everything about Bo; have every question answered in full.

Science, however, tends to fade into the background when one’s senses are assaulted in such a way; when the tangible and physical replaces the medical and cerebral. I hadn’t experienced it before and I think, for a moment, I was caught; frozen between horror and delight. Horror that my professionalism was somehow flawed and delight that I was still able to feel something…anything. I hadn’t done so for such a long time that I merely assumed my own emotions had succumbed to rigor mortis under layers of secrets and lies. Just like The Ash had taught me. Just like he expected them to be now.

As I traced the lines of her body with my hand, I was aware only of her. Only of the contact, of the sensation, of the purity of feeling without methodology and analysis. I could only wonder at her musculature and how intricate and beautiful bone, flesh and skin really were. How breathtaking she was. A perfect specimen. A perfect woman.

There was no magic in it; no Fae bewitching or magentism. In fact, I rather think that any response I might have had to her came only from myself and those desires that I had kept hidden for so long. I’d never found a part of my life in which to place them – never found someone who could understand who I was or what I did. And desire, like humanity, is easily put aside when necessary. Nobody could really comprehend that part of my life. Nobody had ever really wanted to.

And yet, in the simple and inconsequential motion of my fingers over her, I momentarily allowed myself to recognize the feeling – to accept both my humanity and my desire. Even though it weakened me, acknowledging a primal want seemed to be a placebo of sorts; something that I was sure I would recall at a later hour to placate my curiosity.

Bo was very strong – most Fae possess a preternatural level of physical strength that is far superior to even the most vital of humans. And I’d seen her defiance burning bright in eyes that spoke of survival. If she wanted to, she could probably snap every bone in my arm and do it so quickly that I would be powerless to defend myself, much less prevent her from hurting me. Being that close to something so untamed and lethal should have elicited fear, but I felt none. Instead, I felt everything I shouldn’t and nothing of the medical professional my reputation told others I was.

Her strength, I realized, was an inner vibrancy that hummed underneath my touch, because her body felt soft, almost vulnerable. As my fingers moved from her shoulders, heavy locks of hair trailed over my skin, enticing chains that grasped and tugged at my fingertips. Down, further down, I almost paused in the hollow of her back just above her buttocks, lingering for a whirling moment and quite reluctant to stop.

I think I knew then that the fascination she would hold for me was more than mere science. My involvement with the Fae had always been somewhat dispassionate, borne out of my medical curiosity and the desire to be more than who I was. More than who I was going to be, too. Under the patronage of The Ash, I had seen incredible things…done incredible things. I’d saved the lives of creatures that mere humans couldn’t even begin to conceive of, and treated diseases and maladies that I’d never thought possible.

But nothing took my breath away quite as much as the sensation of Bo’s skin under my touch, or the sight of my fingers on her flesh. Nothing medical or mystical had ever touched me like the electric–shock contact that crackled up and down my back, drawing my gaze to the path my fingertips were tracing like the pull of the tide to the moon; irrevocable and constant. I’d always shied away from indulging in sentiment, especially when dealing with Fae patients. I’d managed to detach myself so much that experiencing an almost visceral emotional response to her was in and of itself curious and unusual. I was transfixed by my own betrayals, setting in the pit of my stomach with the heaviness of expectant regret. And still, I couldn’t draw my hand away.

Couldn’t. And wouldn’t.

So what are you checking me for?

It was only when she spoke that I found myself again. I’d become quite lost in her. In the tempting thoughts that were running through my head and trampling rough–shod over my sense of purpose and my reason for existing. She was the one who had broken her unwitting spell with words. And quite broken my resolve, too. I had been determined not to allow her Succubus–touch to lull me into a false sense of closeness; I knew too much about Fae and about her kind to allow myself to be enraptured by her. I was aware, and yet, completely ignorant. Because in my efforts to stop her from using her powers, I had stupidly dismissed my own foibles and fallen anyway. Not because of her. Because of me. Because of my weaknesses. And, despite myself, I didn’t want to resist them. The only thing I really wanted to was to be able to touch her again. To feel her move underneath me, feel her body rise and fall with the breathlessness she evoked in my own lungs.

Catching my breath, I turned to the only things that could save me: the facts and immutable reasonings that medical science offered – the only thing that could make me turn away from her. They were reliable, unlike my traitorous heart, beating so fast that I dared not look at her for fear she’d see it pounding in my breast. The facts were my own defense against her and returned me to my place where cold comfort settled into the base of my throat and slid down my gullet. My knowledge of the Fae far surpassed hers and for a moment, she also returned to the place where medicine and science could overwhelm human desire.

But only for a moment.

My god, you’re beautiful.

I wasn’t even sure I’d spoken until I heard the words slip from my mouth and saw the smile creep across her lips. A smile she must have given to a multitude of people in a hundred and one different moments. And I was fairly certain that the embarrassed laugh that escaped my mouth had been heard by her before, too. The unreserved outpourings of adoration that she inspired only validated my humiliation and I had to turn away so that she couldn’t see my shame. Because to become like them…like all the others she had conquered, and to not only know that I was becoming so but forcibly indulging in that… Well, it wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do for someone like her, or someone like me. And it certainly wouldn’t do for The Ash. Maintaining one’s professional distance was something he demanded. Something she shattered into tiny pieces, just like she had done everything else we held as sacrosanct.

My back to her, I hid my embarrassment, rolling my eyes and chastising myself for being so open and honest. Honesty was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Especially not with someone like Bo. We’d only just met and already my brain was throwing the most intoxicating images against the sides of my head, so much so that I had to force myself not to look at her as she dressed. Instead I focused on the facts, gripping the clipboard in my hands so hard that I could feel its hard edges digging into my skin. It felt familiar. Reliable. Something to remind me of why I was here, and why she was, too.

So am I Fae?

It was easy to slip back into my persona once more. Smiling at her ignorance, explaining her heritage as though it were some sort of ridiculous high school class where I was the teacher and she the recalcitrant pupil. Only I knew that I was the one who could learn from her and I felt another smile ghost my lips as I understood that our education had only just begun. That there were many lessons to learn and experience and I, the omniscience in her life right now, knew nothing about myself. Not really. Because everything I needed to know was in the depths of her gaze and the sense memory of her skin under my fingertips. All just beyond reach, of course.

Telling her I was human was an almost shameful admission. It had never disconcerted me before, even if it had proven difficult in the eyes of the Fae. They never looked at me as anything other than a chattel, undeserving of respect and credence or even common decency in the way they spoke about and to me. But as Bo turned her gaze on me, I felt equal. She’d lived her whole life among humans; it was only natural that she’d see me the way she saw herself.

But we weren’t the same. We never would be. She would always be something…’other’, and I would never be able to rise to her dizzy heights of mystical prowess. That truth I chose to cover with another smile. It hid the gnawing realization in my gut as she asked who she was and I was honor–bound to tell her. Tell her that she was different; set apart. Something forbidden to the likes of me. Offering her help under the guise of joining the Light Fae was my last attempt to entice her to me. If she joined the Light, then I could be near her again. And really, if that was all I was going to get, wasn’t it enough, after all? Could it be enough?

I can offer you things, if we get out of here.

Yes; the touch of a Succubus is immediate. And as it coursed through my veins, I was aware of only one thing: that this was her doing and not mine. I was a means to an end. But she…she was the end. Even as I recognized the flood of desire from her fingers to mine, I was still able to quantify and analyse how different it had been for me to touch her. Her hands on my own were different; this was heady and provocative and quite overpowering. It dimmed my senses so that I knew nothing and felt nothing – nothing except her will. It was the touch of a Succubus, rolling with intent and unspoken promises of delicious, wanton pleasures. It was her assertion over me.

But it wasn’t nearly as thrilling as the tracks my fingers had trailed down her back, or the sensation of her skin under mine. And I knew, in the seconds when she stepped in closer to me, that this was a falsehood. That what I had felt, however briefly, had been real. I think there was a part of me that secretly hoped her powers were involuntary – that she had caught me in her web of want without even trying. But the scientist in me knew otherwise; knew that nothing she could conjure up could replace or equal what I had felt with my hands on her naked body. It was disappointing and arousing all at the same time as I knew then that I was a victim of my own creation, of my own humanity. Because I could teach Bo to control herself, to temper her needs and wants to a manageable degree so that she would no longer be a danger to herself and others.

Yes; I could teach her about limitations and restraint. About the things we could do but shouldn’t.

But how was I going to teach myself the same thing?

I know what you’re doing.

Do you want me to stop?

No.

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