BOP fic: Green Light (Helena/Zinda)
Feb. 19th, 2009 08:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Green Light
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,636
Author’s notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fadeoutin’s birthday. She said she wanted Helena and Zinda having sex on a motorcycle…
Characters/Pairings: Helena/Zinda, references to Dick/Babs.
Summary: Helena takes Zinda on a joy ride. Zinda enjoys being ridden.
It’s a stupid, stupid plan and the only reason Zinda’s going along with it is because she’s horny and when Helena’s mind is set, no amount of flirting can dissuade her. It’s either grand theft motorcycle or hit the bar scene, try to find a non-loser, and hope he knows what he’s doing in the sack. Zinda doesn’t have that kind of time. She just needs a nice orgasm and someone to keep the bed warm until the mission tomorrow.
Barbara’s awfully proud of the motorcycle on display in the lobby of their headquarters. It’s old, but classic-old, not stupid-old. Helena says a lot of babble about how it’s a vintage Wayne Motors Hellwheel 1540, the motor and the wheels, but Zinda’s more concerned with the bats that strobe when the wheels spin. It’s a Batcycle and Barbara’s showing it off because she’s proud of her past and at peace with losing it and, for some reason, Helena really wants to wrap her legs around it.
“Helena, girl, I’ll buy you a motorcycle…”
Helena shakes her head. “This one. And stop being such a nag. We’ll gas it up and put it back by morning. Barbara will never know.”
Barbara always knows. It was a good thing for Helena she was good in bed. Otherwise, Zinda would never listen to a word out of her mouth.
***
“Oh, yeah!”
They hit a hill so fast they took off and one thing Zinda could say for the Batcycle, its shocks hit just the right balance between not fucking you over and letting you feel the road. And riding bitch wasn’t so bad. She could wrap her arms around Helena as tight as she liked. Though, she wasn’t the sentimental type, so the real appeal was what came after the hugging.
“Oh, yeah…” Helena said, more subdued, as Zinda unzipped her motorcycle suit.
It was 2 AM, and if Barbara wasn’t home from dinner with Dick yet, she was spending the night. The streets were mostly deserted and the lights were all green. Zinda, the wind snapping her skirt and breezing up her thighs, reached down until she felt the hem of Helena’s T-shirt. She teased it up, letting the cool night air touch her belly with goosepimples.
“Yeah, baby, c’mon baby.” Helena cranked the speed and Zinda scrunched closer to her as the wind made her whipping hair louder. Neither of them were wearing helmets. Zinda tugged Helena’s shirt up her breasts, but left it bunched across her nipples. Sweet denial.
“Put up or you’re walking home,” Helena threatened.
“Oh, you were waitin’ on me?” Zinda asked guilelessly. “Where did you want me to touch you? Here?” She kissed behind Helena’s left ear, an innocent peck with a not-so-innocent attention paid to said ear.
“Or here?” She pinched Helena’s right nipple through the T-shirt, birthing a tingling that grew and grew. She kept her other arm tightly wrapped around Helena’s waist for when the motorcycle rocketed forward.
“Or maybe…” Her hand, flattened on Helena’s taut stomach, idly slapped its way downward.
“Where you have that dirty…” She brutally yanked Helena’s tight, thin cotton shorts down at the front.
“Hot.” She slapped at the lowest part of Helena’s belly, harder than before.
“Little.” She sucked her forefinger, popping it out of her mouth right beside Helena’s ear.
“Itch.” She pressed her finger into Helena’s belly button.
Helena literally growled in frustration. “I’m going to make you come on this motorcycle, Zinda. I’m gonna lay you out from handlebar to tailpipe and I’m gonna fuck your blonde brains out.”
“So do it, baby.”
Red light. Helena brought the cycle to a stop so fast the rear tire came up, pressing Zinda against her back even harder. Breasts, belly, lips. When they came back now, Zinda found it hard to resist thrusting herself against Helena again. Just the meeting of their body heat was… scintillating.
Helena’s motorcycle suit was unzipped from top to bottom. Her T-shirt was a little inside-out, it was so far up. Her shorts were riding low. Zinda could see all this because Helena was twisted at the waist to face her. She could also see that Helena’s panties were soaking wet.
Before Zinda could impress Helena with a witty comment, Helena had a hand in her hair and was crushing them together, Zinda’s head bent back to receive every little spark of Helena’s passion. Maybe borrowing the Batcycle had been a good idea after all. Maybe it’d been a fucking great idea.
“Like that?” Helena asked, pulling her T-shirt off her magnificent breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Knew you would.”
The rest was Zinda’s face in Helena’s cleavage, trying to get a good thing going while they were both facing the same way on a motorcycle. Whenever she tried to get off, Helena would hold her legs to the chopper with an emphatic ‘no’. The light cycled green yellow red. Zinda kissed Helena’s breasts and Helena pulled Zinda’s hair.
Helena pulls away with a nicely nasty bite to Zinda’s lips, giving them a final beestung look, and they took off before the light could change again. Zinda rested her head against Helena’s back, just catching her breath. It wasn’t easy. She could still smell Helena. Not the perfume. Helena.
Just when Zinda was ready to demand Helena pull over and finish what she’d started, they hit the one car stupid enough to be out on the streets at this time of night. It was a jeep, full of sailors. Rowdy sailors. And they were neighbors at the red light.
“You wanna do the honors, blondie?” Helena asked, not turning her underdressed torso enough for the sailors to get more than a side-on glimpse.
Zinda smiled. Playtime. She turned so she was sitting sidesaddle on the motorcycle, facing away from the jeep. Then she hooked her thumbs in her panties and worked them out from under her skirt. Hoot and hollers louder than a USO concert. She straddled the chopper again, flashing a great deal of bare thigh, and slipped the panties to Helena. Helena teased a crowd-pleasing sniff, but instead rubbing the panties over her chest.
The light went green and Helena cranked the throttle as far as it would do. Zinda had to practically sit in the same seat as Helena to keep from falling off. The vibrations of the motor strummed her pussy and teased her clit. If she lowered herself just a little, she could feel cool metal against her cunt. The vibrations pressed up to her, inside her, like an insistent lover.
Zinda rocked happily against her friend, losing all control. “Faster, Hel… faster.”
Helena hit the nitro and the motorcycle rumbled like it was going to try to break orbit. They hit traffic, but Helena weaved through it, Zinda’s moans urging her on. An abortive siren tried to follow them, but was soon lost. They bulleted onto the highway, a sweeping, swooping road that hugged the coastline. Helena expertly swung the Batcycle around each bend as Zinda rubbed herself frantically against warm leather and cold metal.
“Enjoying the ride?” Helena asked wryly.
All Zinda could manage was a soft, overjoyed cooing.
“I knew you would.”
Zinda’s hands clumsily groped at her, squeezing her breast, blitzing her cunt, trying to share the job. Helena appreciated the sentiment, but as soon as Zinda finished she was going to pull over, kick her pants off, and try out Zinda’s seat.
Helena heard Zinda howl like a wolf on the prowl, felt a damp spot form on the back of her suit. As she slowed down, Zinda sagged against her back and she was able to hear panting over the wind. When they came to a stop, Zinda fell right off the bike. She landed on her back with her skirt hiked up to her waist.
“Give me a minute,” she said, her voice hitched. “I’ll drive, you can enjoy the tour.”
Helena slapped the kickstand out and got up, stripping off her motorcycle suit. “That’s not what I want to ride.”
Zinda smiled dreamily as Helena planted a knee on either side of her head. Definitely a great plan.
***
When they got back, Zinda having driven with Helena turned around in front of her the whole way, the crazy Italian lolling against the console when she wasn’t hanging onto Zinda, Barbara and Dick were waiting for them. Barbara had her hands folded and Dick had his arms crossed and something about how utterly screwed they were made the girls giggle like a couple of high schoolers.
“We’re really sorry,” Helena said.
“Yeah, you look sorry.”
“We’ll never do it again,” Zinda tried.
“Tomorrow. Seven AM sharp. You can dust all the circuit boards and reset all the mice traps.”
Zinda went ‘awww’ at the unfairness of it all and Helena cracked up.
“And you’ll be babysitting Misfit while you do it.”
“It was her idea!” Zinda betrayed.
“She orgasmed first!” Helena fired back.
“Go to bed,” Dick ordered, in not-at-all-sexy-well-maybe-a-little command voice. “You’ll need your sleep.”
They sullenly marched off, still trying to hold in giggles, and Barbara leaned over to smell the motorcycle they’d been wheeling in.
“Jesus Christ, Hel, is there anything to do with the Birds of Prey that you haven’t used to have sex?”
“Your wheelchair?” Zinda suggested.
Helena coughed. It sounded remarkably nothing like “Dinah!”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “Consider yourself lucky I’m not making you carry rubber-tipped arrows on the next mission.”
Helena zoomed up the stairs.
“Of all the perverse, degenerate, underhanded…”
Dick picked Barbara up and deposited her on the back of the motorcycle. “Depressed you didn’t think of it first?”
“Suicidal.” Barbara patted the seat. “You work the handlebars, I’ll work the stick shift.”
“The Batcycle doesn’t have a stick shift.”
“You do.”
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,636
Author’s notes: Written for
fadeoutin’s birthday. She said she wanted Helena and Zinda having sex on a motorcycle…Characters/Pairings: Helena/Zinda, references to Dick/Babs.
Summary: Helena takes Zinda on a joy ride. Zinda enjoys being ridden.
It’s a stupid, stupid plan and the only reason Zinda’s going along with it is because she’s horny and when Helena’s mind is set, no amount of flirting can dissuade her. It’s either grand theft motorcycle or hit the bar scene, try to find a non-loser, and hope he knows what he’s doing in the sack. Zinda doesn’t have that kind of time. She just needs a nice orgasm and someone to keep the bed warm until the mission tomorrow.
Barbara’s awfully proud of the motorcycle on display in the lobby of their headquarters. It’s old, but classic-old, not stupid-old. Helena says a lot of babble about how it’s a vintage Wayne Motors Hellwheel 1540, the motor and the wheels, but Zinda’s more concerned with the bats that strobe when the wheels spin. It’s a Batcycle and Barbara’s showing it off because she’s proud of her past and at peace with losing it and, for some reason, Helena really wants to wrap her legs around it.
“Helena, girl, I’ll buy you a motorcycle…”
Helena shakes her head. “This one. And stop being such a nag. We’ll gas it up and put it back by morning. Barbara will never know.”
Barbara always knows. It was a good thing for Helena she was good in bed. Otherwise, Zinda would never listen to a word out of her mouth.
***
“Oh, yeah!”
They hit a hill so fast they took off and one thing Zinda could say for the Batcycle, its shocks hit just the right balance between not fucking you over and letting you feel the road. And riding bitch wasn’t so bad. She could wrap her arms around Helena as tight as she liked. Though, she wasn’t the sentimental type, so the real appeal was what came after the hugging.
“Oh, yeah…” Helena said, more subdued, as Zinda unzipped her motorcycle suit.
It was 2 AM, and if Barbara wasn’t home from dinner with Dick yet, she was spending the night. The streets were mostly deserted and the lights were all green. Zinda, the wind snapping her skirt and breezing up her thighs, reached down until she felt the hem of Helena’s T-shirt. She teased it up, letting the cool night air touch her belly with goosepimples.
“Yeah, baby, c’mon baby.” Helena cranked the speed and Zinda scrunched closer to her as the wind made her whipping hair louder. Neither of them were wearing helmets. Zinda tugged Helena’s shirt up her breasts, but left it bunched across her nipples. Sweet denial.
“Put up or you’re walking home,” Helena threatened.
“Oh, you were waitin’ on me?” Zinda asked guilelessly. “Where did you want me to touch you? Here?” She kissed behind Helena’s left ear, an innocent peck with a not-so-innocent attention paid to said ear.
“Or here?” She pinched Helena’s right nipple through the T-shirt, birthing a tingling that grew and grew. She kept her other arm tightly wrapped around Helena’s waist for when the motorcycle rocketed forward.
“Or maybe…” Her hand, flattened on Helena’s taut stomach, idly slapped its way downward.
“Where you have that dirty…” She brutally yanked Helena’s tight, thin cotton shorts down at the front.
“Hot.” She slapped at the lowest part of Helena’s belly, harder than before.
“Little.” She sucked her forefinger, popping it out of her mouth right beside Helena’s ear.
“Itch.” She pressed her finger into Helena’s belly button.
Helena literally growled in frustration. “I’m going to make you come on this motorcycle, Zinda. I’m gonna lay you out from handlebar to tailpipe and I’m gonna fuck your blonde brains out.”
“So do it, baby.”
Red light. Helena brought the cycle to a stop so fast the rear tire came up, pressing Zinda against her back even harder. Breasts, belly, lips. When they came back now, Zinda found it hard to resist thrusting herself against Helena again. Just the meeting of their body heat was… scintillating.
Helena’s motorcycle suit was unzipped from top to bottom. Her T-shirt was a little inside-out, it was so far up. Her shorts were riding low. Zinda could see all this because Helena was twisted at the waist to face her. She could also see that Helena’s panties were soaking wet.
Before Zinda could impress Helena with a witty comment, Helena had a hand in her hair and was crushing them together, Zinda’s head bent back to receive every little spark of Helena’s passion. Maybe borrowing the Batcycle had been a good idea after all. Maybe it’d been a fucking great idea.
“Like that?” Helena asked, pulling her T-shirt off her magnificent breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Knew you would.”
The rest was Zinda’s face in Helena’s cleavage, trying to get a good thing going while they were both facing the same way on a motorcycle. Whenever she tried to get off, Helena would hold her legs to the chopper with an emphatic ‘no’. The light cycled green yellow red. Zinda kissed Helena’s breasts and Helena pulled Zinda’s hair.
Helena pulls away with a nicely nasty bite to Zinda’s lips, giving them a final beestung look, and they took off before the light could change again. Zinda rested her head against Helena’s back, just catching her breath. It wasn’t easy. She could still smell Helena. Not the perfume. Helena.
Just when Zinda was ready to demand Helena pull over and finish what she’d started, they hit the one car stupid enough to be out on the streets at this time of night. It was a jeep, full of sailors. Rowdy sailors. And they were neighbors at the red light.
“You wanna do the honors, blondie?” Helena asked, not turning her underdressed torso enough for the sailors to get more than a side-on glimpse.
Zinda smiled. Playtime. She turned so she was sitting sidesaddle on the motorcycle, facing away from the jeep. Then she hooked her thumbs in her panties and worked them out from under her skirt. Hoot and hollers louder than a USO concert. She straddled the chopper again, flashing a great deal of bare thigh, and slipped the panties to Helena. Helena teased a crowd-pleasing sniff, but instead rubbing the panties over her chest.
The light went green and Helena cranked the throttle as far as it would do. Zinda had to practically sit in the same seat as Helena to keep from falling off. The vibrations of the motor strummed her pussy and teased her clit. If she lowered herself just a little, she could feel cool metal against her cunt. The vibrations pressed up to her, inside her, like an insistent lover.
Zinda rocked happily against her friend, losing all control. “Faster, Hel… faster.”
Helena hit the nitro and the motorcycle rumbled like it was going to try to break orbit. They hit traffic, but Helena weaved through it, Zinda’s moans urging her on. An abortive siren tried to follow them, but was soon lost. They bulleted onto the highway, a sweeping, swooping road that hugged the coastline. Helena expertly swung the Batcycle around each bend as Zinda rubbed herself frantically against warm leather and cold metal.
“Enjoying the ride?” Helena asked wryly.
All Zinda could manage was a soft, overjoyed cooing.
“I knew you would.”
Zinda’s hands clumsily groped at her, squeezing her breast, blitzing her cunt, trying to share the job. Helena appreciated the sentiment, but as soon as Zinda finished she was going to pull over, kick her pants off, and try out Zinda’s seat.
Helena heard Zinda howl like a wolf on the prowl, felt a damp spot form on the back of her suit. As she slowed down, Zinda sagged against her back and she was able to hear panting over the wind. When they came to a stop, Zinda fell right off the bike. She landed on her back with her skirt hiked up to her waist.
“Give me a minute,” she said, her voice hitched. “I’ll drive, you can enjoy the tour.”
Helena slapped the kickstand out and got up, stripping off her motorcycle suit. “That’s not what I want to ride.”
Zinda smiled dreamily as Helena planted a knee on either side of her head. Definitely a great plan.
***
When they got back, Zinda having driven with Helena turned around in front of her the whole way, the crazy Italian lolling against the console when she wasn’t hanging onto Zinda, Barbara and Dick were waiting for them. Barbara had her hands folded and Dick had his arms crossed and something about how utterly screwed they were made the girls giggle like a couple of high schoolers.
“We’re really sorry,” Helena said.
“Yeah, you look sorry.”
“We’ll never do it again,” Zinda tried.
“Tomorrow. Seven AM sharp. You can dust all the circuit boards and reset all the mice traps.”
Zinda went ‘awww’ at the unfairness of it all and Helena cracked up.
“And you’ll be babysitting Misfit while you do it.”
“It was her idea!” Zinda betrayed.
“She orgasmed first!” Helena fired back.
“Go to bed,” Dick ordered, in not-at-all-sexy-well-maybe-a-little command voice. “You’ll need your sleep.”
They sullenly marched off, still trying to hold in giggles, and Barbara leaned over to smell the motorcycle they’d been wheeling in.
“Jesus Christ, Hel, is there anything to do with the Birds of Prey that you haven’t used to have sex?”
“Your wheelchair?” Zinda suggested.
Helena coughed. It sounded remarkably nothing like “Dinah!”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “Consider yourself lucky I’m not making you carry rubber-tipped arrows on the next mission.”
Helena zoomed up the stairs.
“Of all the perverse, degenerate, underhanded…”
Dick picked Barbara up and deposited her on the back of the motorcycle. “Depressed you didn’t think of it first?”
“Suicidal.” Barbara patted the seat. “You work the handlebars, I’ll work the stick shift.”
“The Batcycle doesn’t have a stick shift.”
“You do.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 03:25 pm (UTC)On a side note, Hel would love those rubber-tipped arrows. She would, um, use them on Zinda. Clearly.
Hot. Incredibly ridiculously insanely hot.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 03:30 pm (UTC)Zinda would love them. Helena would put up with them because Zinda is her best friend and good at cunnilingus.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 03:45 pm (UTC)Will there be fic on that too? *beams*
no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 03:53 pm (UTC)By the end, I'm pretty sure Jo is going to really love guns.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-19 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-21 12:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-22 10:11 pm (UTC)Heh, stick shift jokes.