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seriousficTitle: Five Times H.G. Wells Had Her Way With Myka Bering (And Myka Didn't Particularly Mind)
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,170
Notes: This story takes place after 2x02 – Mild-Mannered
Characters/Pairings: Myka/H.G.
Previous: Part 1
Next: Part 3
Summary: Myka just got done playing superhero. Naturally, she meets a supervillain.
Myka couldn't believe she was doing this. Pete would freak out if he caught her. Artie would probably lecture her. Claudia might be a little impressed.
Luckily, none of them would ever find out that there, in the middle of her room, with the lights on, staring at herself in a mirror, Myka Bering was dressed as a superhero.
Not a specific superhero, like Supergirl or Batgirl. She just had on a leather bodysuit and metal gloves. The leather was low-cut. That was it, but apparently enough to get her labeled a superhero. She blamed the X-Men movies.
Myka was just in a good mood over finally getting her stuff delivered and solving a case with no one dying, except maybe some petty criminals who no one cared about. She could afford to goof around some. Next time Pete said she was no fun, she could say "You don't know what I did in that superhero outfit after the trunks were bagged and tagged," and watch his face scrunch up while he tried to figure that one out.
Still, she did cut a nicely striking feature. It was no wonder H.G. Wells had… done things. Orgasm things. Best not to think about that.
"In your satin tights!" she sang into the mirror. "Fighting for your rights and the old Red, White, and Blue!"
What could be less lesbian than Wonder Woman?
Just then, she heard a sound from her closet. It was a nicer closet than her old apartment, walk-in, with a little spinny thing for her shoes, but she still didn't like it moaning. Grabbing her Tesla from its recharger, Myka threw the door open and—
Tripped.
Onto the ceiling.
And saw Helena naked.
Well, not naked. She still had on a rather flattering shirt-vest combo, unbuttoned as it was to allow her to fondle her breasts, which were still mostly contained in the kind of bra Myka would scoff at if she saw it in one of Pete's magazines. If she squinted, she could maybe make out a nipple…
Why was she trying to make out H.G. Wells' nipple when she was Spider-Manned to the ceiling?
"Hello there, Myka." Helena pronounced her name like she was eating a piece of fine chocolate. "Funny meeting you here."
"In the closet?"
"Let's not go there."
With a cute little wiggle, Helena removed seven inches of darkly-colored dildo from—Myka tried not to look. But apparently, since being unbronzed, Helena had discovered the wonders of bikini waxing.
"What are you doing with Black Beauty?" Myka demanded.
"You named your dildo? Well, I suppose it earned it." Helena got up, the tail of her shirt wagging at her hips, and damned if Myka couldn't follow the fall of her hem down her thighs. It'd covered everything just before she could get a good look at it. Not that she wanted a look. She'd just got done not looking.
It was frustrating, was all.
"And to answer your question," Helena said, stepping under Myka and, damnit, giving her a look right down her shirt, "I was warming it up for you."
"Go… warm your ass up!" Myka shouted back.
"Not on a second date, sweetie."
Myka forced herself to calm down. Just because she'd been stuck to a ceiling by Cavorite, her least favorite element, didn't mean Helena had the upper hand. She had to outthink her. "So what is this? Payback for Britain?"
"I suppose you could put it that way. I hate to be a selfish lover and last time, I took all—well, not all, hardly all—the pleasure. I simply mean to return the favor."
Myka laughed. "So you're going to rape me?"
Helena reached up and grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen across Myka's face, pulling it down to her like it was connecting them. "Do you want me to stop? Just scream. Leena will sound an alarm and all manner of Warehouse defenses will be brought to bear on me. Not only will you have preserved your modesty, but you'll have caught the infamous Helena Wells."
"You'd kill me," Myka retorted.
"What have I done to give you that impression? No, Myka. Call out and I'll go quietly. I'll even get dressed first, so you won't have to answer any embarrassing questions."
"Then—it's a trick. You want to get back in the Warehouse for some kind of devious—"
"It's not a trick. I'm simply certain that you want this. You've been dreaming about this. And in all likelihood, you were about to lodge this ridiculous phallus inside your womanhood thinking of me. Weren't you?"
"You're sick."
Helena held up an Artifact glove. The Artifact glove. "Care for a matching set?"
Myka bit her lip. It had to be a trick. Had to be. All she had to do was have incredible, mindblowing—was allow Helena to have her way with her and, bam! She'd have called Helena's bluff. In fact, she could seduce Helena. Helena was clearly hung up on her—why else go to the trouble of masturbating practically under the Regents' noses?
Myka forced a smile. It came particularly easy. "I'd hate for you to have warmed Black Beauty up for nothing."
"Mmm." Helena's approval sounded so goddamned sexy. She pulled a second, clean Artifact glove on, dropping the one Myka had used onto a shelf. "Did you know those were once used to treat female hysteria? And you did sound quite out of sorts just now…"
"Yes. Yes I did. Why don't you let me down and we can treat each other? I can't be very much fun up here."
"Don't underestimate yourself." Helena pulled a library's rolling ladder from the back of the closet. "Be prepared, that's my motto."
"It's the Boy Scouts' motto."
"Those cheeky buggers must've stolen it. I'll settle with them later." Helena gave the ladder a push, and it rolled precisely underneath Myka's prone body. Myka gulped. There suddenly seemed something uncomfortably phallic about that large, hard object pointed at her. "Much later."
Helena mounted the ladder. Myka started envying the ladder. "I do like the outfit. Some sort of comic book thing, correct?"
"Don't tell me—"
"I have been catching up on them." Helena stopped on the step just under the one she'd needed to reach Myka. Turning, she leaned on the ladder, and Myka couldn't pull her eyes away from the graceful lines of Helena's throat. God. How could she ever have been lucky enough to have touched that? And Helena was talking again, her voice like feathers running over Myka's body. "I do like to keep current on pop culture. I haven't bothered watching the movies though, anymore than I did Shakespeare's plays. Perhaps I'm unsociable, but I've always preferred reading the text to seeing what a hackjob so-called artists can make out of it."
Helena took another step. She was so close now Myka could feel her body heat… no, that was just her own skin, warming up like she'd caught a fever. Suddenly, the leather was all too heavy.
"You're going to sex me up while talking about comic books?" she asked, trying to distract herself. "Did I accidentally fall into Pete's wet dream?"
"Are you so desperate to divorce yourself from feminine sexuality that you'll even bring up your oaf of a partner?" Helena asked, sounding so disappointed, like one of Myka's teachers when she'd gotten a B.
"My partner is not an oaf!... some of the time."
"Well. Don't bring him up again, or I shall be cross."
"Oh, what are you gonna do? Stick me to a ceiling?"
Grabbing Myka's stray hair again, curling it further around her hand, Helena pulled Myka's head down with just enough aggression to make Myka gasp but not be frightened. With the same carefully calculated passion, a fastidiousness that Myka found appreciative, exciting, she kissed Myka. It had the desired result. When Helena let go of Myka's hair and the agent's head bounced back to the ceiling, she was out of breath. And she hadn't even moved.
"I'll stop," Helena threatened coolly.
Myka struck Pete from her mind. It wasn't hard to do.
"Much better, my dear." Helena ran her gloved hand over Myka's face. Wearing them, they'd always just felt stuffy, gummed up with sweat. Touching one like this, on the receiving end, made Myka feel like she was an Artifact Helena was about to take. "Far too much of the average 'graphic novel' is sexist drivel, so it's no wonder your partner enjoys them so. Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bring him up. I'll make it up to you."
With an impish grin, Helena took hold of Myka's top and ripped it open. Myka's own shabby bra popped into view. Fortunately for her, but unfortunately for K-Mart's quality assurance, Helena tore that away too.
"Christ!" Myka breathed. Helena had never been so… rough with her before. It was… it was just a little… she couldn't quite breathe.
"Gym membership," Helena bragged. "If I wanted, I could just hold you down. Push you down to your knees and force your head to my lap. I didn't think you'd enjoy that but, my sweet Myka, is there anything I could do to you that you wouldn't enjoy?"
"Stop. You've stopped. I did what you asked, you can't stop!" Not that Myka cared. It was just the principle of the thing.
Helena put her finger to Myka's lips, then ran her hands down her throat and over her body. The contrast of the glove's cool plastic and Helena's own hand, soft and warm with fingernails that nipped playfully, was overwhelming to Myka. She wished she could have them just one at a time, all day, spending hours thinking on all the differences.
Well, that would be time Helena couldn't spend plotting evil. Totally justified.
After a brief eternity of Helena almost fetishistically running her fingers along Myka's stomach, taking a perverse glee in a woman having abs, she delved lower. Myka made a sound that wasn't quite a gasp and wasn't quite a whinny as Helena took hold of her waistband.
Helena looked up at her, seemingly touched by the embarrassing noise. Of course, she was some kind of insane murder-y… person. She'd get off on—
Helena stepped to the very top of the ladder, bringing her lips to Myka's. The kiss did more for Myka's lust than being touched anywhere else. It heated her, but cooled her, like she was dropped in water which was then set to a boil.
"It has been a very long time since I've been able to make a woman feel that way," Helena said heatedly in Myka's ear. She pulled Myka's trousers down in fits and gasps, her own motions not supple at all, ragged, urgent. It brought the water to a boil all the quicker. "I assure you, I feel the same way. I wish I could show you. Later, perhaps."
There couldn't be a later. This was a one… well, two-time thing. Myka was a Warehouse agent, Helena was a Warehouse prisoner. And Myka was still mostly, 99%, virtually straight.
She just couldn't say any of that at the moment.
Helena lifted the dildo. Black Beauty had never looked quite so beautiful. She turned the vibrator on, delighted at how it blurred in her hand. "Aces!"
"No foreplay?" Myka breathed, just to say something that wasn't begging for more or demanding she stop.
"Oh, I hardly think you'll need it."
Myka swallowed. That's where Helena put the vibrator, the hollow of her throat. The dull vibration eased into her skin like a massage. It must've been a pressure point, because Myka felt what little guilt was clinging to her break away under Helena's ministrations. Helena moved the vibrator up the column of Myka's throat. It felt warm and a little slick, and Myka remembered where it had been. They were going to share this. It wasn't much, but under the circumstances, it seemed incredibly intimate.
"Where was I?" Helena asked, stroking Myka's cheek. "Comic books. Yes. Comparable to the pulp books of my own time, but with pretty, pretty pictures and overall less shame." She moved the vibrator to Myka's lips and Myka shamelessly opened her mouth.
She was tasting Helena.
Helena took Black Beauty away and Myka instantly wanted more, wanted to taste Helena fresh from the source, hot and running down her lips, her fingers, there'd be so much of it, she'd make Helena come so much.
It was a dirty fantasy, even by the standards of what she was doing, but she couldn't think of anything else. Not until Helena spoke again. Her voice was like a manual override for Myka's brain. Nothing else seemed as important as her finely-tuned words.
"There have been a few titles I've enjoyed," Helena continued to muse, as if she weren't moving the vibrator down over Myka's breasts, making her nipples hard enough to sting. "One character in particular, one of the X-Men. A woman, despite the chauvinist name. Emma Frost."
"Yeah, I saw her in the movie. The bimbo, right?"
Helena's mouth twisted in exaggerated disappointment. "I can only assume they got her very wrong. Much like a performance I once saw of Hamlet. You'd think Ophelia's character was sexist enough, but trust me, she can be played moreso." As if in punishment for the interruption, Helena took the dildo away from Myka's breasts. It skirted over Myka's stomach, nearly tickling her. "No, in the comic books, Emma Frost is an exceptional woman. Older than the usual superhero ingénue, completely at ease with her body, willing to use both her intellect and her sexuality to get what she wants, although her intellect is more than enough. And this femme fatale, this devil-woman, is one of the good guys. She even falls for the hero that's the most right-thinking, good-natured, by-the-book rule-follower of them all. She uses traditionally evil means—ruthlessness, ambition, deviousness—to achieve good."
Myka forced herself to ignore the vibrations circling their way to her groin. "If you want to tell me something, say it. Don't make me sit through some convoluted comic book metaphor! What are you, Quentin Tarantino?"
"Certainly," Helena said cheerfully, bringing the vibrator just short of Myka's sex and holding it there, where the vibrations could just reach her clit. On any other day, it would've been enough for Myka.
Today, Myka wanted to come. She wanted Helena to make her come.
"The thing is, Emma has a softer side. She's a teacher, and she genuinely loves children, enjoys teaching them. There's your metaphor. I am ruthless, and I can be merciless, and sometimes even a little… misguided. But there is a part of me that's soft… tender. I want you to know that. You, if no one else. And I want to teach you a little something about being a Warehouse agent. You should always take your pleasure where you can."
She brought the vibrator lower, and Myka had time to hitch her breath before the pointed tip touched her clit. Before she could recover from that, before she could even think, Helena moved lower, her devilish smile all Myka could make out in a haze of pleasure as the vibrator entered her. Like she was a chemistry experiment, an invention of Helena's, it took no more than a few drops of solute, a pressed button, to bring about what Helena required of her. Within moments she was shaking and moaning, biting back larger screams of joy. Her orgasm felt like shockwaves from an explosion, hitting her over and over again no matter how she braced herself. Plaster fell from the ceiling in her writhing, dusting Helena's vest. And all Myka could hear, over the sound of her suppressed scream, was Helena's polite-but-joyful laugh as she jabbed the vibrator in and out, in and out, pressuring Myka's body to the limit and then giving her sweet relief, again and again and again.
Then all Myka felt was floating. For a moment, she actually thought the sex was that good, then she saw Helena adjusting a dial in her pocket. She was turning the Cavorite off, lowering her by degrees. Myka hit the cool tile floor and it was just what her overheated, wrung-out body needed. She practically embraced it.
"Well," Helena said smartly, "now I know why so many women want to ride Black Beauty."
She was bending over Myka, touching her gently… Myka sighed as Helena ever-so-softly entered her, almost managing not to arouse her overstimulated pussy. The sigh turned harder the deeper Helena went—it was like the woman wanted to feel every aftereffect of what she'd done to Myka, how wet she was, how warm and open and satiated. Then she took her hand away and stripped off the glove, dropping it in front of Myka's face with aplomb. Myka was reminded of how old-fashioned women had once dropped their handkerchiefs for gentlemen to return. Although, she had to imagine they did it before madcap sex.
"Your matching set," Helena said. "Do you think you could ever use those to 'snag, bag, and tag'? While Artie and Claudia and Pete watch? Knowing what we've done?" She ran a hand through Myka's hair, fondly sighing.
Myka pressed her cheek against the floor and exhaled softly. She should be getting up. She should be grabbing a Tesla and taking Helena in. She should do something. "You should go," she said. "Before someone notices you."
"Yes," Helena said, rising, not even finishing her stroke of Myka's hair.
Helena picked up her trousers with the curt, efficient motions of a commando. Myka recognized them from training. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she never had seen Helena's pussy. Not that she cared, but she looked up and saw a certain moisture, a certain crimson, before Helena yanked her pants up. It made her wonder what would've happened if she'd asked Helena to stay, offered to return the favor.
No, this was Helena returning the favor for Britain. They were even now. Weren't they?
Helena stepped over Myka, and if Myka didn't know any better, didn't know she was the kind of person who could be so terrible as to be locked up in bronze for all eternity, she'd think Helena was… hurt.
"Why me, though?" Myka asked, lifting herself off the ground to look back at Helena, as the woman stood in the closet door. Paused to hear what Myka had to say. "Tell me that."
Helena looked back a little, meeting Myka's eyes and then immediately looking away, focusing on adjusting her cleavage and buttoning her shirt. "Because, Myka, you're what I expected the future to be. Open-minded. Intelligent. Lovely. You're a holdover from a utopian vision, trapped in a dystopia of reality shows and anorexic socialites. I want to build a future with you."
"What… what kind of future?" Myka started to ask.
Helena was out of the room and shutting the door.
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,170
Notes: This story takes place after 2x02 – Mild-Mannered
Characters/Pairings: Myka/H.G.
Previous: Part 1
Next: Part 3
Summary: Myka just got done playing superhero. Naturally, she meets a supervillain.
Myka couldn't believe she was doing this. Pete would freak out if he caught her. Artie would probably lecture her. Claudia might be a little impressed.
Luckily, none of them would ever find out that there, in the middle of her room, with the lights on, staring at herself in a mirror, Myka Bering was dressed as a superhero.
Not a specific superhero, like Supergirl or Batgirl. She just had on a leather bodysuit and metal gloves. The leather was low-cut. That was it, but apparently enough to get her labeled a superhero. She blamed the X-Men movies.
Myka was just in a good mood over finally getting her stuff delivered and solving a case with no one dying, except maybe some petty criminals who no one cared about. She could afford to goof around some. Next time Pete said she was no fun, she could say "You don't know what I did in that superhero outfit after the trunks were bagged and tagged," and watch his face scrunch up while he tried to figure that one out.
Still, she did cut a nicely striking feature. It was no wonder H.G. Wells had… done things. Orgasm things. Best not to think about that.
"In your satin tights!" she sang into the mirror. "Fighting for your rights and the old Red, White, and Blue!"
What could be less lesbian than Wonder Woman?
Just then, she heard a sound from her closet. It was a nicer closet than her old apartment, walk-in, with a little spinny thing for her shoes, but she still didn't like it moaning. Grabbing her Tesla from its recharger, Myka threw the door open and—
Tripped.
Onto the ceiling.
And saw Helena naked.
Well, not naked. She still had on a rather flattering shirt-vest combo, unbuttoned as it was to allow her to fondle her breasts, which were still mostly contained in the kind of bra Myka would scoff at if she saw it in one of Pete's magazines. If she squinted, she could maybe make out a nipple…
Why was she trying to make out H.G. Wells' nipple when she was Spider-Manned to the ceiling?
"Hello there, Myka." Helena pronounced her name like she was eating a piece of fine chocolate. "Funny meeting you here."
"In the closet?"
"Let's not go there."
With a cute little wiggle, Helena removed seven inches of darkly-colored dildo from—Myka tried not to look. But apparently, since being unbronzed, Helena had discovered the wonders of bikini waxing.
"What are you doing with Black Beauty?" Myka demanded.
"You named your dildo? Well, I suppose it earned it." Helena got up, the tail of her shirt wagging at her hips, and damned if Myka couldn't follow the fall of her hem down her thighs. It'd covered everything just before she could get a good look at it. Not that she wanted a look. She'd just got done not looking.
It was frustrating, was all.
"And to answer your question," Helena said, stepping under Myka and, damnit, giving her a look right down her shirt, "I was warming it up for you."
"Go… warm your ass up!" Myka shouted back.
"Not on a second date, sweetie."
Myka forced herself to calm down. Just because she'd been stuck to a ceiling by Cavorite, her least favorite element, didn't mean Helena had the upper hand. She had to outthink her. "So what is this? Payback for Britain?"
"I suppose you could put it that way. I hate to be a selfish lover and last time, I took all—well, not all, hardly all—the pleasure. I simply mean to return the favor."
Myka laughed. "So you're going to rape me?"
Helena reached up and grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen across Myka's face, pulling it down to her like it was connecting them. "Do you want me to stop? Just scream. Leena will sound an alarm and all manner of Warehouse defenses will be brought to bear on me. Not only will you have preserved your modesty, but you'll have caught the infamous Helena Wells."
"You'd kill me," Myka retorted.
"What have I done to give you that impression? No, Myka. Call out and I'll go quietly. I'll even get dressed first, so you won't have to answer any embarrassing questions."
"Then—it's a trick. You want to get back in the Warehouse for some kind of devious—"
"It's not a trick. I'm simply certain that you want this. You've been dreaming about this. And in all likelihood, you were about to lodge this ridiculous phallus inside your womanhood thinking of me. Weren't you?"
"You're sick."
Helena held up an Artifact glove. The Artifact glove. "Care for a matching set?"
Myka bit her lip. It had to be a trick. Had to be. All she had to do was have incredible, mindblowing—was allow Helena to have her way with her and, bam! She'd have called Helena's bluff. In fact, she could seduce Helena. Helena was clearly hung up on her—why else go to the trouble of masturbating practically under the Regents' noses?
Myka forced a smile. It came particularly easy. "I'd hate for you to have warmed Black Beauty up for nothing."
"Mmm." Helena's approval sounded so goddamned sexy. She pulled a second, clean Artifact glove on, dropping the one Myka had used onto a shelf. "Did you know those were once used to treat female hysteria? And you did sound quite out of sorts just now…"
"Yes. Yes I did. Why don't you let me down and we can treat each other? I can't be very much fun up here."
"Don't underestimate yourself." Helena pulled a library's rolling ladder from the back of the closet. "Be prepared, that's my motto."
"It's the Boy Scouts' motto."
"Those cheeky buggers must've stolen it. I'll settle with them later." Helena gave the ladder a push, and it rolled precisely underneath Myka's prone body. Myka gulped. There suddenly seemed something uncomfortably phallic about that large, hard object pointed at her. "Much later."
Helena mounted the ladder. Myka started envying the ladder. "I do like the outfit. Some sort of comic book thing, correct?"
"Don't tell me—"
"I have been catching up on them." Helena stopped on the step just under the one she'd needed to reach Myka. Turning, she leaned on the ladder, and Myka couldn't pull her eyes away from the graceful lines of Helena's throat. God. How could she ever have been lucky enough to have touched that? And Helena was talking again, her voice like feathers running over Myka's body. "I do like to keep current on pop culture. I haven't bothered watching the movies though, anymore than I did Shakespeare's plays. Perhaps I'm unsociable, but I've always preferred reading the text to seeing what a hackjob so-called artists can make out of it."
Helena took another step. She was so close now Myka could feel her body heat… no, that was just her own skin, warming up like she'd caught a fever. Suddenly, the leather was all too heavy.
"You're going to sex me up while talking about comic books?" she asked, trying to distract herself. "Did I accidentally fall into Pete's wet dream?"
"Are you so desperate to divorce yourself from feminine sexuality that you'll even bring up your oaf of a partner?" Helena asked, sounding so disappointed, like one of Myka's teachers when she'd gotten a B.
"My partner is not an oaf!... some of the time."
"Well. Don't bring him up again, or I shall be cross."
"Oh, what are you gonna do? Stick me to a ceiling?"
Grabbing Myka's stray hair again, curling it further around her hand, Helena pulled Myka's head down with just enough aggression to make Myka gasp but not be frightened. With the same carefully calculated passion, a fastidiousness that Myka found appreciative, exciting, she kissed Myka. It had the desired result. When Helena let go of Myka's hair and the agent's head bounced back to the ceiling, she was out of breath. And she hadn't even moved.
"I'll stop," Helena threatened coolly.
Myka struck Pete from her mind. It wasn't hard to do.
"Much better, my dear." Helena ran her gloved hand over Myka's face. Wearing them, they'd always just felt stuffy, gummed up with sweat. Touching one like this, on the receiving end, made Myka feel like she was an Artifact Helena was about to take. "Far too much of the average 'graphic novel' is sexist drivel, so it's no wonder your partner enjoys them so. Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to bring him up. I'll make it up to you."
With an impish grin, Helena took hold of Myka's top and ripped it open. Myka's own shabby bra popped into view. Fortunately for her, but unfortunately for K-Mart's quality assurance, Helena tore that away too.
"Christ!" Myka breathed. Helena had never been so… rough with her before. It was… it was just a little… she couldn't quite breathe.
"Gym membership," Helena bragged. "If I wanted, I could just hold you down. Push you down to your knees and force your head to my lap. I didn't think you'd enjoy that but, my sweet Myka, is there anything I could do to you that you wouldn't enjoy?"
"Stop. You've stopped. I did what you asked, you can't stop!" Not that Myka cared. It was just the principle of the thing.
Helena put her finger to Myka's lips, then ran her hands down her throat and over her body. The contrast of the glove's cool plastic and Helena's own hand, soft and warm with fingernails that nipped playfully, was overwhelming to Myka. She wished she could have them just one at a time, all day, spending hours thinking on all the differences.
Well, that would be time Helena couldn't spend plotting evil. Totally justified.
After a brief eternity of Helena almost fetishistically running her fingers along Myka's stomach, taking a perverse glee in a woman having abs, she delved lower. Myka made a sound that wasn't quite a gasp and wasn't quite a whinny as Helena took hold of her waistband.
Helena looked up at her, seemingly touched by the embarrassing noise. Of course, she was some kind of insane murder-y… person. She'd get off on—
Helena stepped to the very top of the ladder, bringing her lips to Myka's. The kiss did more for Myka's lust than being touched anywhere else. It heated her, but cooled her, like she was dropped in water which was then set to a boil.
"It has been a very long time since I've been able to make a woman feel that way," Helena said heatedly in Myka's ear. She pulled Myka's trousers down in fits and gasps, her own motions not supple at all, ragged, urgent. It brought the water to a boil all the quicker. "I assure you, I feel the same way. I wish I could show you. Later, perhaps."
There couldn't be a later. This was a one… well, two-time thing. Myka was a Warehouse agent, Helena was a Warehouse prisoner. And Myka was still mostly, 99%, virtually straight.
She just couldn't say any of that at the moment.
Helena lifted the dildo. Black Beauty had never looked quite so beautiful. She turned the vibrator on, delighted at how it blurred in her hand. "Aces!"
"No foreplay?" Myka breathed, just to say something that wasn't begging for more or demanding she stop.
"Oh, I hardly think you'll need it."
Myka swallowed. That's where Helena put the vibrator, the hollow of her throat. The dull vibration eased into her skin like a massage. It must've been a pressure point, because Myka felt what little guilt was clinging to her break away under Helena's ministrations. Helena moved the vibrator up the column of Myka's throat. It felt warm and a little slick, and Myka remembered where it had been. They were going to share this. It wasn't much, but under the circumstances, it seemed incredibly intimate.
"Where was I?" Helena asked, stroking Myka's cheek. "Comic books. Yes. Comparable to the pulp books of my own time, but with pretty, pretty pictures and overall less shame." She moved the vibrator to Myka's lips and Myka shamelessly opened her mouth.
She was tasting Helena.
Helena took Black Beauty away and Myka instantly wanted more, wanted to taste Helena fresh from the source, hot and running down her lips, her fingers, there'd be so much of it, she'd make Helena come so much.
It was a dirty fantasy, even by the standards of what she was doing, but she couldn't think of anything else. Not until Helena spoke again. Her voice was like a manual override for Myka's brain. Nothing else seemed as important as her finely-tuned words.
"There have been a few titles I've enjoyed," Helena continued to muse, as if she weren't moving the vibrator down over Myka's breasts, making her nipples hard enough to sting. "One character in particular, one of the X-Men. A woman, despite the chauvinist name. Emma Frost."
"Yeah, I saw her in the movie. The bimbo, right?"
Helena's mouth twisted in exaggerated disappointment. "I can only assume they got her very wrong. Much like a performance I once saw of Hamlet. You'd think Ophelia's character was sexist enough, but trust me, she can be played moreso." As if in punishment for the interruption, Helena took the dildo away from Myka's breasts. It skirted over Myka's stomach, nearly tickling her. "No, in the comic books, Emma Frost is an exceptional woman. Older than the usual superhero ingénue, completely at ease with her body, willing to use both her intellect and her sexuality to get what she wants, although her intellect is more than enough. And this femme fatale, this devil-woman, is one of the good guys. She even falls for the hero that's the most right-thinking, good-natured, by-the-book rule-follower of them all. She uses traditionally evil means—ruthlessness, ambition, deviousness—to achieve good."
Myka forced herself to ignore the vibrations circling their way to her groin. "If you want to tell me something, say it. Don't make me sit through some convoluted comic book metaphor! What are you, Quentin Tarantino?"
"Certainly," Helena said cheerfully, bringing the vibrator just short of Myka's sex and holding it there, where the vibrations could just reach her clit. On any other day, it would've been enough for Myka.
Today, Myka wanted to come. She wanted Helena to make her come.
"The thing is, Emma has a softer side. She's a teacher, and she genuinely loves children, enjoys teaching them. There's your metaphor. I am ruthless, and I can be merciless, and sometimes even a little… misguided. But there is a part of me that's soft… tender. I want you to know that. You, if no one else. And I want to teach you a little something about being a Warehouse agent. You should always take your pleasure where you can."
She brought the vibrator lower, and Myka had time to hitch her breath before the pointed tip touched her clit. Before she could recover from that, before she could even think, Helena moved lower, her devilish smile all Myka could make out in a haze of pleasure as the vibrator entered her. Like she was a chemistry experiment, an invention of Helena's, it took no more than a few drops of solute, a pressed button, to bring about what Helena required of her. Within moments she was shaking and moaning, biting back larger screams of joy. Her orgasm felt like shockwaves from an explosion, hitting her over and over again no matter how she braced herself. Plaster fell from the ceiling in her writhing, dusting Helena's vest. And all Myka could hear, over the sound of her suppressed scream, was Helena's polite-but-joyful laugh as she jabbed the vibrator in and out, in and out, pressuring Myka's body to the limit and then giving her sweet relief, again and again and again.
Then all Myka felt was floating. For a moment, she actually thought the sex was that good, then she saw Helena adjusting a dial in her pocket. She was turning the Cavorite off, lowering her by degrees. Myka hit the cool tile floor and it was just what her overheated, wrung-out body needed. She practically embraced it.
"Well," Helena said smartly, "now I know why so many women want to ride Black Beauty."
She was bending over Myka, touching her gently… Myka sighed as Helena ever-so-softly entered her, almost managing not to arouse her overstimulated pussy. The sigh turned harder the deeper Helena went—it was like the woman wanted to feel every aftereffect of what she'd done to Myka, how wet she was, how warm and open and satiated. Then she took her hand away and stripped off the glove, dropping it in front of Myka's face with aplomb. Myka was reminded of how old-fashioned women had once dropped their handkerchiefs for gentlemen to return. Although, she had to imagine they did it before madcap sex.
"Your matching set," Helena said. "Do you think you could ever use those to 'snag, bag, and tag'? While Artie and Claudia and Pete watch? Knowing what we've done?" She ran a hand through Myka's hair, fondly sighing.
Myka pressed her cheek against the floor and exhaled softly. She should be getting up. She should be grabbing a Tesla and taking Helena in. She should do something. "You should go," she said. "Before someone notices you."
"Yes," Helena said, rising, not even finishing her stroke of Myka's hair.
Helena picked up her trousers with the curt, efficient motions of a commando. Myka recognized them from training. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she never had seen Helena's pussy. Not that she cared, but she looked up and saw a certain moisture, a certain crimson, before Helena yanked her pants up. It made her wonder what would've happened if she'd asked Helena to stay, offered to return the favor.
No, this was Helena returning the favor for Britain. They were even now. Weren't they?
Helena stepped over Myka, and if Myka didn't know any better, didn't know she was the kind of person who could be so terrible as to be locked up in bronze for all eternity, she'd think Helena was… hurt.
"Why me, though?" Myka asked, lifting herself off the ground to look back at Helena, as the woman stood in the closet door. Paused to hear what Myka had to say. "Tell me that."
Helena looked back a little, meeting Myka's eyes and then immediately looking away, focusing on adjusting her cleavage and buttoning her shirt. "Because, Myka, you're what I expected the future to be. Open-minded. Intelligent. Lovely. You're a holdover from a utopian vision, trapped in a dystopia of reality shows and anorexic socialites. I want to build a future with you."
"What… what kind of future?" Myka started to ask.
Helena was out of the room and shutting the door.
