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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
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Chapter 24 Confluence

As Camden arrived back at her building, she saw the lights on in the first floor flat where her adopted German parents lived and had a bright flash of an old memory. She quickly ran up the stairs and opened the door to her own flat only to hear the shower faucets being turned off.

“Richard?” Camden called, “Are you doing all right in there?”

“Oi, lass,” Richard loudly responded from inside the bathroom, “’ave ye p’raps a clean shirt might fit me? Mine needs ta’ ‘ave the blood from me head washed out of it.”

“In the closet on the top shelf. Something there should fit,” Camden hastily informed, “I have to go talk to someone downstairs. I’ll be back in a little while. Just don’t mess with anything that you don’t already know about and you should be fine,” and turned quickly to dash down the stairs, leaving the entry door ajar.

“Smitty, does Camden usually leave her door open like this?” Sean asked as the pair arrived at the door to Camden’s flat.

“She’s probably downstairs at Hildi’s. I saw the lights on as we came in,” Smitty answered, shoving Sean on into the flat, “She pops in there for morning coffee sometimes.”

“Back so soon, lass?” Sharpe, hearing voices in the living room, walked out of the bathroom toweling his wet hair. He immediately froze, his vivid green eyes startled at the sight of his own face as he looked up to find those same green eyes staring back at him.

Sitting back comfortably, feet propped up, in the cushioned bench seat in Mama Hildi’s traditionally decorated kitchen, Camden let her mind wander as she inhaled the fragrant steam of the stout German coffee in the heavy stoneware mug warming her hands. She could hear Mama Hildi rustling around the living room, searching for her address book. Her wandering mind quickly went to thoughts of Sharpe which also forced her to think about Sean. Before she realized it, there was an active argument waging inside her skull.

Sharpe and Sean. Sean and Sharpe. Could my life possibly be any more screwed up than it is right at this moment? Sean is reality. Sharpe is fantasy. At least he was until yesterday. I know he has to go back. It’s that whole time continuum thing that scientists are always theorizing about. Well, we’re all still here, so far. So Sharpe’s being here hasn’t screwed up the past or the present. At least not yet. And for similar reasons, you can’t go with him no matter how perfect a match he is for you. Get real, girl. You can’t keep either one of them. Sharpe has to go back to his time as soon as possible and Sean has to go back to his world in a few weeks while you have to stay right here. This is where you belong. You have a purpose here. Your duty lies right here. This is the place you belong. You know that. You’ve always known that. It feeds you and cradles you. Sean’s world is foreign and uninviting. A lot of glitz and glamour that just isn’t you. There wouldn’t be a place for you there just as there isn’t a place for him here.

But give up Sean? That’s so unfair. Sean makes you feel so……. When he touches you…he knows just where and how. His soft, probing hands…running up and down your spine to your neck…firmly holding your head to press his firm, moist lips to yours. His kisses so urgent and probing; driving down through your body to build a fire in the pit of your stomach. Those long, slender fingers of his teasing your nipples, trailing down your body to find the folds of your pussy wet, dripping, waiting for him to enter you. That tongue…how that tongue knows its business. That tongue and his lips expertly work you, licking and plunging and nibbling, pressing harder just when you need it, teasing your clit as he pushes those long, sensuous fingers inside you, until, your legs trembling, you come shaking against him. His cock patiently waiting for you to gather your senses again before invading you, filling you with his throbbing heat. The pleasure of his groans in your ear as he begins moving rhythmically, steadily gaining in intensity and speed yet keeping pace with you until you mutually explode in a magnificent orgasm. Sean is forceful finesse and languid foreplay. Sex is his sport.

Aaaahhh, but Sharpe…When Sharpe makes love, he doesn’t waste time. He’s the fulfillment of forbidden fantasies, a warrior come to ravage you, claiming opportunity as it comes to him. He attacks you like an obstacle course; a fortress to be breached. Bruising. Devouring. Demanding. There’s a shocking bluntness in his crushing kisses, his plunging tongue. His mere presence draws out pure arousal, rough, raw and concentrated, without the baggage of attachment. His pure, clean, masculine scent driving you senseless with the need to have him inside you; his cock stretching and plundering you with his excellent hardness. No ceremony, no cute foreplay, plunging into you time and time again with forceful, powerful strokes, your clit so swollen and raised you can feel it rub against him until your slick wetness swamps over his balls and down your thigh. His groans of male satisfaction announce his shuddering delivery of his hot juice in infinite streams while you climax, your tunnel walls pulsing to milk every last drop. Sharpe is danger, raw power and rough conquest. Sex is his gold eagle.

“Cammie, liebchen?” Mama Hildi gently asked; touching Camden’s hand gently to startle her back to reality, “Here is the address of Frau Preis. I don’t know how much help she might be. She is very old now. Perhaps she would know someone who could help you. You worry me, liebchen. The gypsy legends are not to be taken lightly. Promise me you will be extra careful.”

“Don’t worry, Mama,” Camden assured, rising to hug the older woman around the neck before rushing out the door, paper in hand, “I won’t be alone. And I promise to be extra careful. Give Papa Hans a hug for me.”

Camden’s thoughts were focused on her developing plan for returning Sharpe to his own time as she made her way up the stairs to find her door standing wide open. As she entered her living room, the sight before her brought one word to mind: cockfight. There in the center of the room stood two of Britain’s most-treasured icons, slowly circling each other, measuring each other up, and searching for each other’s weaknesses. All the while, Smitty, propped against the wall for support, could only watch in stunned silence.
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Sharpe's Sergeant