Flash Fictions *Multiple Fandoms*

Dangerous Territory (Ghost Hunt) *John/OC*

Fandom: Ghost Hunt.
Pairing: John Brown/OC (Robyn Edge).
Side story to "Black Magic".

"Have you seen John?"

Mai looked up from the computer screen she'd been told to keep an eye on. Robyn was standing over her, in her usual ripped jean shorts and leaving-little-to-the-imagination strappy top. She still didn't really understand the friendship between the punk rocker and the Catholic priest. "I think he's upstairs. He's going to be starting the exorcism soon."

"I'll go look for him," said Robyn. "Naru's decided he wants him based in the living room now, instead of the basement."

Mai frowned. The basement was the hub of all the paranormal activity they'd been witnessing. "Why?"

Robyn just shrugged. "It's Naru. He didn't tell me anything else."

Mai snorted. "Typical."

Robyn went upstairs and checked inside the first room she came to. "Hey, John?"

She'd got the right room. John was indeed inside, currently in the process of changing into his robes for the exorcism. Only Robyn had managed to catch him as he was stood wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He looked startled at her appearance. Most girls would have ran back out of a situation like that, blushing and apologising profusely. But Robyn wasn't the blushing type. Instead, she stood and stared, until John was the first to apologise for the lack of modesty.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out, hastily trying to hide behind the purple t-shirt he'd just pulled off. His cheeks flooded pink.

Robyn knew she should leave, but she just couldn't get her feet to move. She'd never seen John any less than fully clothed, even though she'd imagined otherwise plenty of times. His body was slim, bordering on boyish, barely taller than she was. His skin was flawless. Robyn could do nothing but stare at that perfect expanse of porcelain that stretched from the roots of his golden hair right down to his toes, broken only by those light blue boxers that went so lovely with the deeper sea of his eyes. Boxers that she very much wanted to rip from his legs.

She could play the entire thing out in her head. She would stride over and press herself entirely up against him, running her hands across his shoulders, his back, through his hair... She'd wind her arms around his neck, dragging him down to her level, and she'd kiss him hard and long until they were both gasping for breath.

She'd pull him across the room, pushing him down forcefully onto the tiny bed in the corner, before tearing those shorts off of him. She'd relish in touching, licking, caressing and tasting him all over. He'd taste salty and sweet all at once. Bitter, like something you knew you shouldn't have, but with that essence that just made you want all the more.

He'd never take charge, so she'd climb onto him, straddling those slim hips of his. She'd drive him into her in one slick move and she'd relish that feeling of pain mixed with pleasure. Then she'd ride him, fast, hard, sliding herself up and down the solid length of him, until they were hot and sweaty and she'd make him scream her name the way she'd always dreamt of doing...

"Err, Robyn?" John stuttered, clearly wondering why she was staring at him, still trying to hide behind his t-shirt.

His obvious discomfort brought her crashing back to reality and in that moment, she felt terrible. She was disgraceful for even thinking what she had. John was a priest. How could she imagine forcing him into testing his faith like that? His faith was not only his job; it was a huge part of him. It was what made him John. She knew that in some occasions, priests could marry and have kids - likely after retiring from the profession - but recreational sex was definitely out of the equation, whatever the circumstances.

Robyn had always known that falling for a Catholic priest was a stupid idea, whether she'd had the choice in the matter or not. She should have reined better control over her thoughts. Dreaming about a relationship with him had always felt taboo, like the forbidden black magic she'd practiced when she was younger. Acting on what she was thinking about right now was definitely straying into dangerous territory. And there was no way she was dragging John down with her. Not if she ever wanted to be able to live with herself.

So even though the last thing she wanted was to leave, she knew it was the right thing to do. And that, nice guy or not, John might not be able to forgive her if she didn't. That was more motive than anything else. She finally averted her eyes, more in shame than out of modesty.

"I'm really sorry," was all she said, though she couldn't have been more sincere about it.

She let herself out, leaving a very bewildered John behind and shut the door after her. She leant back against it and let out a sigh. She could never test John on his faith. He had to stay as pure and adorably innocent as he was or he just wouldn't be John. No matter how much she wanted to go straight back in, take him to the floor and screw his brains out right there and then.

Her sigh turned into a groan of frustration. She wasn't religious herself, but if Hell existed, then that last thought had just bagged her a first class ticket.