Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Sharpe's Sergeant	By : Sable899 Category: S through Z > The Sharpe Books Views: 1683 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sharp series of books that this fanfiction is written for, nor do I know Sean Bean. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. This story is fiction.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Chapter 20 Storming the Breach

By the time they arrived at Camden’s quarters, Sharpe had come to the realization that getting all worked up about his circumstances would be a waste of energy. Things were definitely out of his control and until he had a full understanding of the situation, there was nothing he could do. He knew approximately where he was, but knew he didn’t know ‘when’ he was, and he was certain that this ‘when’ was not his ‘when’. Following behind the Sergeant, Sharpe couldn't help but admire the perfectly shaped mounds of her tight ass and he felt his crooked cheeky lopsided grin take hold. Well, Sharpie, yer in a right sorr-eh fix this time. Guess if yer life rests in the ‘ands of a Sergeant, it’s good fer a change the Sergeant don’t look nowt like Harper!

Hearing a soft, low laugh behind her on the stairs up to her flat, Camden turned to find Sharpe stopped at the first floor landing leaning against the handrail, his head bowed, fingers rubbing his brow, laughing at seemingly nothing in particular. They had both been quiet during the remainder of the drive from the range, across the main post area and the few blocks through town to her building. He had been very observant, studying first Camden, then the inside of the vehicle and then the surroundings as streetlights began to lighten up the streets of Grafenwoehr proper.

As his laughter subsided, he lifted his head to look back down the stairs to the front entryway. Sharpe’s expression began to take on a look of surprise as he made out the original crest inlay in the travertine floor of the entry hall.

“Oi, I think I know this place,” Sharpe remarked softly, “I’ve been ‘ere afore.”

“What do you mean?” Camden asked.

“Is there a pub nearby?” Sharpe questioned in return, “In the cellar, p'raps?”

“Yes, but I can’t let you go there,” Camden warned, “You’re too easy to recognize. Besides, you’re supposed to be someplace else right now.”

“Nowt a bod-eh in yer time an’ place are goin’ ta know me, lass,” Sharpe answered sarcastically as his anxiety began draining away.

“Hmmm, you'd be surprised at how well known the legendary Richard Sharpe is in this time and place. Cornwell figured it right,” Camden mused aloud, continuing up the stairs, “You’re a smart bastard all right. How on earth could you possibly be familiar with this place, and in this time, no less?”

“Aye. If this be Grafenwoehr, tis a safe ‘ouse. Harry Price’s very own pub and brewery,” Sharpe explained, “At least it wer’ once’t upon a time.”

“I think you have about as much to explain to me as I do to you,” Camden declared, resuming her climb up the stairs.

Once inside her flat, Camden took her time going about her normal routine of shedding her boots and uniform in favor of her silk kimono and bare feet while she let Sharpe wander about to acquaint himself with the surroundings. Returning from the closet/dressing room she found him studying her library shelves. He nearly took her breath away with the way his mere presence dominated the room. He stood with his back to her with militarily-correct shoulders, one hip thrust arrogantly forward, and the bulk of his weight resting on one leg. The familiar green breeches with the leather inseams hugged the perfectly shaped ass that Sean had made famous for him the modern world over, his long, lean legs disappeared into his tall boots. As he heard her approach across the hardwood floor, his head twisted towards her, his shaggy blond hair falling away from his brow and his green eyes glistening in the amber light of the lamp on the library table where he had placed his saber and a pistol that he had managed to keep concealed. His green jacket was tossed casually on the back of one of the overstuffed chairs and his loose linen shirt was now unbuttoned nearly to his waist, revealing a golden-tanned chest that glittered with a dusting of fine blond hair where a small golden cross on a Spanish filigree chain rested. In his hand was the copy of ‘Sharpe’s Victory’ that Smitty had lent her.

“Just who the blood-eh ‘ell is Sean Bean and why is he masquerading abaht as me?” Sharpe demanded, his voice taking on a familiar military tone of controlled authority.

Several hours of questions, answers, and explanations later, Camden and Sharpe arrived at a mutual conclusion: brandy. Having steered him over to the kitchen, she had managed to keep the granite island between them while they talked. Fearful of distraction, she had so far managed to avoid getting too close to him. Now, as she set a bottle of Asbach and two snifters before him, Sharpe caught her hand. Turning it palm up, he began stroking the soft skin of her wrist with his finely sculpted fingers.

“So, lass, ye’ talk of this Sean feller as if he wer’ more than just some poncy twat play-actin’ at bein’ me,” Sharpe slyly smiled as he felt her tense up as he brought her hand to his lips to press a soft kiss against her now quivering palm, “What be he to you?”

Camden welcomed the rude interruption of her mobile sounding off, allowing her to rescue her hand from his grip. Sharpe paid the tone of the phone no mind, having experienced enough strange things already that one more or less was of no consequence, opting instead to flash his devastating grin as she turned away to answer the phone.

“It’s about time, Smitty,” Camden warned in a hushed tone, walking towards the bathroom out of Sharpe’s earshot, “Where the hell have you been? I’ve got a situation here.”

“I’m with Orry and Sean over at the cast dinner. He wanted some real mates for support and we really wanted to come, so here we are,” Smitty managed to spit out in a drunken tone, “I got your message and didn’t unnerstand a single word you said.”

“Smitty, just forget it. Range Control could barely hear me and they probably got it all mixed up,” Camden lied outright, “You sound pretty drunk. How is Sean holding up?”

“Uuuummmmmmmm....... He thought he could outdrink Orry, ha, ha, ha!” Smitty joked, “What a whuss! Gotta’ go now, the limo’s here. Rufus is taking us all out to a club over in Weiden. Hey, Sarge? I might be a little late in the morning, ok…………”.The question went unfinished as the phone went dead with a crash.

Camden took a few minutes to review the current situation and analyze her thoughts. She had to admit that Sean, through his portrayal of Sharpe in the films, had done a rather remarkable job of personifying him, but the real Sharpe was much more of an imposing figure than anyone, Bernard Cornwell included, could ever have imagined. He oozed danger, authority and power; a raw energy barely harnessed like a lion in a cage. Larger than life, he owned the space he occupied. She was at once frightened of him and in awe of his commanding presence. Behind it all, barely detectable, there was just the very slightest hint of vulnerability to soften his hardness and she had detected a kindness in him along with a strong yet conflicted sense of morality. His clear green eyes held the weight and weariness of years of conflict, both physical and emotional. The one trait that was completely indistinguishable between the two men was overabundant masculinity accentuated with cocky self-assurance. They both dripped with testosterone and they both had a good sense of the power that came with it; along with the killer smile and soul-piercing green gaze from hooded eyes. Each was every bit an alpha male, although the times they lived in had made them different, yet their spirits were the same.

How in hell are you going to get through this, girl? Your hormones are so fucked up right now. Sean cracked your wall of self-preservation by means of siege warfare. Sharpe could, no, make that will, simply storm the breach if you leave him an opening. And by God you might as well admit it, you want him to! Between that voice and the grin, you’re on the verge of coming already. If he makes the slightest effort, the slightest move in your direction, you’ll never stand. There’s nothing stopping him. Willpower of a worm. Yeah, that’s you, you slut. Well, at least you don’t have to worry about Sean, thanks to Smitty and Orry. Damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead and worry about the consequences in the morning.
- 19
- 20
- 21
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sharpe's Sergeant