seriousfic: (Femslash)
[personal profile] seriousfic
Title: Oasis
Fandom: Bitch Slap
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,815
Characters/Pairings: Hel/Trixie, references to Hel/Trixie/Camero
Summary: The past isn’t dead until you kill it. Or someone kills it for you.



The necklace changed everything. It shouldn’t have, of course. Trixie had watched nations rise and fall, seen armies die and buildings topple. One little band of gold shouldn’t have done anything. So maybe it was the way Hel’s eyes lit up in place of a diamond as she ran the gold around Trixie’s throat, clenching it in the back.

“What’s this?” Trixie asked, staying bouncy and light. That was the funest part of being Trixie. It made up for not being able to slaughter anyone who annoyed her.

“It was my mother’s,” Hel answered, bouncing on her heels just a little. Her act was real in the same way she was real, every little emotion seeming to demand a moment on her face. “But she’d want you to have it.”

“Why?” Trixie was uncharacteristically confused. Trixie would know why people gave each other hunks of precious metal, what that symbolized. Pinky wouldn’t. “You’ve already gotten me into bed.”

“Because I think it’ll make you happy. And I like seeing you happy.” Like a proud big sister, Hel spun Trixie to face the mirror. It was the only one in the trailer, a wall mirror with a slender crack running down it. Trixie stared at herself. The necklace went on her bronze skin like a sheen. Hel ran a finger across Trixie’s collarbone, tugging the necklace this way and that. “See? Gorgeous.”

It didn’t surprise Pinky that Hel loved her. She’d crafted a persona that appealed to her in every way, making her protective and pitting her against a jealous Camero. It was just biology. It wasn’t anything special.

It surprised Trixie when she saw the smile in her reflection. Hel was hanging off her, arms around her shoulders, rocking her this way and that to let the necklace catch the light.

It was just nerve impulses. Fluids in the brain. Pheromones. So why did she feel warm where she was used to frostbite?

“I don’t deserve it.” Trixie tried to take the necklace off. It suddenly made her feel sick to her stomach just touching it.

“Hey.” Hel tightened her grip on Trixie, freezing her arms. Trixie wanted to bust free as much as she wanted to stay put in the cocoon of Hel’s embrace. She wasn’t used to being that conflicted. Pinky was always single-minded, monomaniacal. She knew what she wanted and she took it.

It was just that what Trixie wanted was Hel.

Hey,” Hel said again, nudging Trixie’s head with her own. “I know you’ve done things you’re not proud of. It comes with the territory. But don’t ever think you don’t deserve to be happy, because I say you do. And you know I’m never wrong.”

Trixie won out over the prickling unease at letting Hel hold her. In her position, Hel could easily get the drop on her, or someone could bust in and take them by surprise. But Trixie knew, deeper than reason or calculation, that Hel wouldn’t let anything happen to her. She’d spent so long being independent that it came as a shock that there was someone she could rely on.

It was all so confusing, making her head hurt like it hadn’t in so long, and then Hel was turning her around and hugging her… not wanting anything from her, not wanting sex or comfort or anything those other saps had ever thought they could get from her, just giving.

Trixie was taller than her, but she still found herself bending down to rest her chin on Hel’s shoulder, letting the redhead take her weight. “Come on,” Hel said, leading her down to the couch. “It’s been a long day. You’re not used to this heat, are you?”

Trixie had spent two years fighting the Soviets in Afghanistan. It was fun.

“No,” she said.

Leaning over to the minifridge, Hel pulled out a bottle of water and then slumped down against the arm of the couch, pulling Trixie down into the circle of her legs. Trixie pulled Hel’s legs so they crossed her stomach, and Hel got the message, holding her tightly as she gave Trixie a mouthful of cool, pure water.

“Camero will be back soon. No one will ever find the body, she’s good at that. Then we’ll find the treasure and get out of here.” Hel plucked a tangle from Trixie’s hair. “Promise.”

It’d been satisfying to be Trixie. At first because of the layers of deception. Making all the self-styled badasses think she was harmless just because of her sex. But looking back, it’d been nice just spending time with Hel. She was confident and bold, always dissembling every obstacle that cropped up as if it were nothing more than a child’s puzzle. And in bed… Trixie was used to taking her pleasure, guzzling down sex slaves by the dozen. These days it took a major battle to get her blood rushing enough to enjoy it. She hadn’t even orgasmed since Vegas.

But Hel effortlessly turned the tables on her, not dominating her or submitting to her, but somehow conjuring up a flame inside her that set them both ablaze. Then they spent hours in early morning silence, between sleep and wakefulness, hands lulling over each other in wordless reassurance that they were still there, that what they’d found hadn’t been lost.

Yes, whatever this was had been growing inside her for days, maybe weeks. Why’d she started that water fight when it had just wasted time she could’ve spent with her katana, cutting down all comers? Why hadn’t she slept with Gage to get what she wanted? She’d fucked for less. Was she that afraid of how Hel would look at her?

Trixie gently pried the bottle from Hel and tilted it back, letting the water slosh down into Hel’s lips. Rivulets of it poured down onto Hel’s chest and Trixie rubbed her face there, letting it cool her brow and cheeks as her tongue snuck out onto Hel’s smooth skin.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” Hel laughed, setting the water bottle aside.

It was true. More than anything, Trixie felt a fierce desire for Hel that she’d never tasted before. She didn’t want to own her, or defeat her. She wanted to… savor her, experience her, bathe herself in the force of Hel’s love for her. It was what sung her to sleep during those long nights when they only had each other for comfort in rink-dink hotels and the backseat of Camero’s namesake ride. It was what made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t since the Shadow Clan had burnt down her parents’ dojo.

Trixie let the mask slip and the act drop, just a little. She held the redhead down, worried at her throat with bright teeth, pulled her clothes away with sure swift fingers. Trixie squeezed Hel’s throat until she couldn’t take anymore, yet begged for more. Then Trixie added two more fingers.

Hel was vocal in her appreciation.

Not that Trixie had ever shared her bed with someone unwilling – in her private island, the local girls competed amongst themselves for the luxury of her seraglio – yet all it took was a little turning, a little twisting, and a few devious motions of Hel’s tongue and Trixie was feeling herself boil. She saw herself in the cracked mirror, her much-abused dress pushed up and slipping down, PoutyPuss panties stretched across her spread thighs. She didn’t look like a warlord or a crime boss or a master. She looked happy.

Her cold smile was feared through Eurasia, but it was just that. Cold. After all this time, Hel still made her feel warm, and she made Hel feel the same. And that feeling, making Hel smile and laugh and moan, made her heart pound in her ears like a snare drum.

As Hel straddled her, not the prettiest girl Trixie had ever fucked, or the strongest, or the most experienced… yet somehow the only one who mattered… Trixie gave herself over to her.

“I love you, Hel.”

***

They didn’t have much time to cuddle afterward. Trixie had never minded hard and fast before, but coming on the heels of this… thing that had ripped through her life, she longed to take her time exploring Hel, driving her mad with passion in ways that neither Trixie or Pinky could. And at the same time, she felt a sharp guilt at deceiving Hel. She knew now that at some level, Trixie was real, but at the same time she’d seduced Hel with a lie and taken her heartfelt affection under false pretenses. But still, it had turned out Pinky was as much as mask as Trixie had been.

Trixie didn’t know what was under all those masks, but she trusted that Hel did, and if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for Trixie.

Camero was returning, having hidden Gage’s body somewhere in the sand. There were galloons of water in the backseat. The sun was dying down, making it more comfortable to dig. Of course, Camero had been chosen almost as deliberately as Hel had. An unhinged, drug-addled gun-for-hire? It was like setting a cat among the mice. And if she’d won, it would be fun to play the docile conquest for her. Even now, fully addicted to Hel, Trixie felt the same lust she did for all things shattered and sharp. But that was all burned away by the very thought of Camero bringing harm to Hel. She’d have to be dealt with. But not as Pinky would do it. As Trixie.

Of course, even Trixie had a keener intellect than most gave her credit for. While she’d been tearing Hel’s clothes away, she’d taken care to scatter them far and wide, while all Trixie needed to get dressed was to slip on her dress. She left her bra and panties on the floor. They’d only slow her down.

“I’ll go get us some water,” she told Hel, petting her head. Hel looked up from scrambling on all-fours for her underthings and Trixie felt a sudden urge to join her on the floor. That was just something she’d have to get used to.

Camero waited outside on the hood of her car, messily guzzling down water. It spilled onto her chest and turned her tanktop into a peepshow. Trixie enjoyed it like she’d paid admission.

“Ah,” Camero exhaled, dropping the empty plastic. “Found the loot yet?”

“Nope.”

“Maybe you should try looking somewhere other than each other’s treasure holes. I can smell vag-bagging all over you.”

Trixie sauntered closer, leading with her tits and detouring with her hips. “Can you blame me? That pussy’s so hot I wanna put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.”

That got a snarl. Camero was a simple soul, pure in her own way. She needed regular doses of sex and violence, and she followed Hel because it got her both. All she really needed was a bigger serving, and to have a few sugar pills slipped into her tablets. That’d wean her off them in a few weeks.

Oh yes, Trixie could think of quite a few things Camero would be good for once she learned her place. Not the least of which was running interference for Hel and Trixie with all of the enemies you racked up when you were an internationally-feared evil overlord and a slightly-less-feared secret agent with a reputation for foiling Moon-Nazis without ever putting on a shirt.

“Don’t even look at me, cuntcake. In fact, you’ve got five seconds to back off before I baste you.”

Trixie came closer. She’d just thought of something else Camero would be good for. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

Camero swung at her and Trixie caught it. She savored the surprise on Camero’s face in a very Pinky way – just because she was reformed didn’t mean she was dead – and then busted Camero’s nose with a palm strike. She didn’t break it, since she liked having a pretty face to look at while she grinded on someone, but she did make sure blood was streaming from both nostrils. Camero hit the desert and, to her credit, was surging to her feet when Trixie stepped on her tits. High heels and nipples made poor bedfellows without a safe word.

“I’m getting tired of your attitude, Camero. If I want to clock into Hel’s va-jay-jay like it’s an orgasm factory, that’s my business. If you wanna join in, buy us flowers. And you really—” Trixie pulled up her hem until Camero could see the tattoo on her crotch like a clit signpost. The blonde’s eyes widened like she’d taken a banana up the tailpipe. “—really want to join us.”

“The contortionist!”

“Still want me to baste your giblets?” Trixie gave a kick, rolling Camero over. “Take a number.”

She pulled a jug of water from the backseat and lugged it back to the trailer, letting her ass put on a show for Camero as she left. In the doorway, she took a big drink, letting both the girls see the water cascade over her breasts and turn her nipples into glass. Then she walked inside, leaving Camero thirsty for more.

***

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Hel asked after a long drink.

Trixie sat down and put her feet up. “What do you mean?”

Hel laughed. “I saw the whole thing. It was kinda hot.”

“Really? I should spank Camero more often.”

Hel laid down beside her, taking Trixie’s hand for a squeeze. “Please don’t let that be a metaphor.”

Trixie squeezed back. “If it’d make you happy, I’d use a paddle.”

They laid together, Hel’s hair turning dark where it traipsed across the water on Trixie’s skin, and Trixie again tried to figure out how Hel had done this to her without even knowing about it. Eventually, she caught her reflection in the damaged mirror. Trixie resolved to get the crack fixed.

Camero interrupted her musing, stomping through the door like there wasn’t a shoeprint on her tits. “Are you going to dig or are you going to fuck while I watch?”

“Well, if those are the options…” Hel got up, then helped Trixie to her feet.

They broke out the shovels.

***

The sun was a red line on the horizon by the time they found the bunker. Camero took two handfuls of diamonds and poured them over her head. Trixie watched one sparkle as it disappeared down her cleavage, than turned to see Hel watching the same show. It was good when couples had similar interests.

Hel defused her bomb like the good girl she was. She’d told Trixie all about it while they spooned. The trust implicit in her confession was even more breathtaking to Trixie than being the little spoon.

And Pinky picked up her sword, a sharp piece of metal that happened to be really old.

“What’s that?” Camero asked.

Trixie tucked it under her arm. “Just a souvenir.”

***

It took them most of the night, but they loaded everything into the camper, then hooked up the car so it could be towed behind. Camero refused to part with it, even with the promise of being the meat in a Sane Person Sandwich. They let her drive while Trixie and Hel napped in the back, the sheathed sword lying between them.

“What’s so important about this?” Hel asked, running a finger along the scabbard. “It seems to have struck a chord.”

“It reminds me of you,” Trixie said. “It’s been beaten and heated and hammered, and taken many many lives, but now it’s in its sheath. And we can appreciate how beautiful it is.”

“I do look forward to sheathing myself in you,” Hel replied. “As soon as we find a sex shop with a money-back guarantee. I hate vibrators that conk out too soon. If I wanted that, I’d be straight.”

“There’s a pretty good place in Galveston,” Camero said, seeing as how they were on their way to Mexico. “They’re having a sale on jackrabbits.”

They stared at her. Trixie resolved to add more sugar pills to Camero’s stash. But then Hel was pulling Trixie closer by the gold around her neck, hiding the sword between their joined bodies, and jackrabbits sounded like a really good idea.

Respect. That was it. All the other girls and boys had feared Pinky for as long as she could remember, and thanks to certain Oriental techniques that was a very long time indeed, but Hel was the only one who respected her, even when she portrayed herself as the weakest, most craven caricature she could think of. Hel saw through all that to an inner strength even Trixie hadn’t been aware of.

All Trixie could do under the weight of that gaze was look back and keep trying to discover how Hel could be so amazing.

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