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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: NC-17
Word Count: 8,076
Notes: This story takes place after 2x09 – Vendetta
Characters/Pairings: Myka/H.G.
Previous: Part 3
Next: Part 5
Summary: Helena tells Myka the truth.
It was odd, having to make the mental transition from shameful (naughty) secret to teammate. Girlfriend, maybe. Myka had to double down on her instincts now—she had to stop herself from sharing smiles with Helena, and stop herself from stopping herself from sharing smiles, from throwing Helena against walls and jamming a Tesla in her face. Helena was a Warehouse agent now. They were… official, in a way.
It'd been Helena's idea to keep abreast of each other for the moment. She'd thought it would smooth things over, pretending they were nothing more than acquaintances with common interests, although only a social misfit like Claudia would buy it. And Artie. And Pete.
Leena wasn't telling anyone.
So it came as a surprise a week later when there was a gentle, but insistent knock at Myka's door in the middle of the night. Helena seemed to know Myka had been lying awake, shuffling through the Post-Its she'd taken off her own nude body. Myka leaned in the doorway, relishing the opportunity to be a seductress.
"Am I still your drug?" she asked, to Helena's lazy nod. "Need a hit?"
"Just a reminder. I did help you with your little Ivan problem and was promised compensation. Quid pro quo, remember?"
Myka smiled. "Making you a Warehouse agent again doesn't count?"
"I'm sure all you did was provide a fair and unbiased account of events. Am I correct?"
Myka shrugged. She was pretty sure she had, not allowing her feelings for H.G. to color her report. But then, would it be so bad if she had?
It wasn't a question she asked herself much.
"So," Myka drawled, running a hand down to her hip and knowing Helena enjoyed the trip. "What would you like?"
"A date," Helena replied quickly, raising her chin with a touch of pride. She'd managed to shock Myka.
Myka recovered quickly. "Don't tell me you've found a hot nightspot in Univille."
"There's only one way to find out."
Helena could be so confident. It was actually a little endearing. "Pick me up at eight. And don't think you're getting any just because of the other times. I only do so much on a first date."
"Best not say how much so much is. I'd hate to make a liar out of you." Helena shifted a hand into her pocket. "Well, I daresay that hardly required me cashing in a favor. Perhaps I should insist on a bit more bang for my buck."
Myka hung her head to the side. Really?
Helena took her hand out of her pocket to hand Myka a rolled-up magazine. "Page 54. And don't tell me you didn't keep it. I'll expect you to be wearing that, but I leave the undergarments—if any—to you."
Myka took the magazine. By the time she'd flipped to Page 54, Helena had pulled a Ms. Frederic.
And staring up at Myka from the page was herself, undercover as a fashion model, wearing the dress even Pete had liked.
***
Helena arrived promptly at eight o'clock the next day, announcing herself with a polite rap on Myka's door. Myka, for her part, had spent the day rushing through Artie's little chores so she could do a little maintenance. As podunk as Univille was, it still boasted a nail salon, a hair dresser, and a Filipina lady who did painful magic with waxes. It was all worth it when Myka opened the door wearing the dress she'd been undercover in. If she'd been wearing the lingerie she was now, though, she would've been undercover as a very different profession.
Helena stood there, looking for a moment like she'd taken a shot from a Tesla. She was just stunned, biting her own lip to bring her back to her senses. Slowly, she dragged her lip out from between her teeth. "My dear. You're ravishing."
"Not yet," Myka said perkily, hoisting her purse. "You're not so bad yourself."
Although Pete hadn't understood why anyone would watch a Western that didn't have a barfight or showdown every episode, Myka had been a devout fan of Deadwood. Everything had matched so perfectly to what she'd imagined in the books she'd devoured on Wild Bill and Calamity Jane and all the rest. In the second season, there'd been a certain dress that Alma Garrett had worn. Red velvet, buttoned all the way down… hopelessly conservative by today's standards, but Myka had thought she'd looked like a million dollars in it. In 19th century money.
The dress Helena wore reminded her of that to a tee. It was completely Victorian in its cut, concealing almost every inch of Helena's lovely skin, and yet somehow it hinted, dealing in innuendo and flirtation. Seeing Helena fill it made Myka want to pull her inside and rip those bazillion buttons clean off.
Helena smirked beneath her short-veiled hat, easily discerning the effect her outfit had on Myka. "Call me old-fashioned, but there's something to be said for concealing the majority of one's beauty from the world. Revealing it only to a select few." She offered her arm. "Shall we?"
***
Their ride was another surprise. Myka hadn't even known Helena had a license; she'd thought Helena was commuting with Claudia (whose fangirling Helena had keenly taken advantage of, turning her into a glorified chauffeur). Yet, parked in front of the bed and breakfast was what was clearly an antique limousine, fully restored, the sleek black chassis gleaming. A silver ornament stood proudly erect on the hood. It even had running boards, just in case Al Capone needed a ride.
"The 1948 Hudson Hornet Special," Helena drawled, her voice dripping with sensuality. She could make a bag of peas sound elegantly sexual. "Five hundred were made. Only ten still exist." She jangled a set of keys from her purse. "Make that eleven."
Myka wasn't a car nerd, but some cars made a geek out of anyone. This was one of them. "How?"
"Royalties, darling. Before my… rest… I made a number of investments in technology I thought would soon bear fruit. My investment firm also had specific instructions to purchase items I thought would be to my liking, for my use when I was debronzed. In its time, this was the crème de la crème of the automotive world. I have more recent vintages, but I prefer this to the kind of car certain men buy as a penile substitute." She opened the passenger door for Myka. It even opened sleekly. "Hop in."
Myka got in. Finally, a car with room for her to stretch her long legs. Taking the driver's seat, Helena looked over as if fervently enjoying the show. "I always found high heels a rather chauvinistic invention, emblematic of an unwomanly catering to male fantasy. But I must say, you make them appear positively empowering."
Myka buckled her seatbelt. "If you don't like male fantasy, you're going to hate what I'm wearing underneath this."
Helena started the engine. Its rumble seemed to run over Myka like an insouciant hand. "In your case, I'm willing to make a permanent exception."
***
The restaurant was the first thing that didn't take Myka's breath away at first glance. It was a small, out of the way place, desultory even by Univille standards. The floor was tile like you might expect to find at a school cafeteria, the view was hampered by huge self-promotion blazoned on the windows, and the food was served buffet style. The only service was the hostess who seated them.
Then Helena gentlemanly delivered a full plate of exotic-looking food to her and Myka took a bite. Breath, gone.
"Ethiopian cuisine," Helena announced, tucking into her own plate. "It's not to everyone's taste, but I thought it well-suited to your palate. I did enjoy my sojourn there in my own time."
"How did you find this place?" Myka demanded, only then realizing she had spoken with her mouth full.
Helena smiled and dabbed at Myka's mouth with a napkin. "The old-fashioned way. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I went out, until I found an eatery worthy of you." She speared a piece of something unidentifiable and scrumptious on her fork, offering it to Myka. "I think now might be a good time to define what exactly you do on a first date, Agent Bering."
Myka took a bite.
***
When Myka was being driven through town in a classic car by a 19th-century inventor and her dress already had an absurdly high slit, she let her thigh be fondled. Even if it was on a first date.
"You're as smooth as glass, my love," Helena observed, barely able to keep her eyes on the road.
"The 21st century isn't all bad, is it?"
"I should say not." Helena's hand dared to go higher.
"H.G…"
"Under the circumstances, I think Helena would be suitable."
"Helena," Myka amended. "I was thinking we could talk on this date."
"Oh, I do expect you to be quite vocal."
"Not like that. There's so much I want to ask you. The food was delicious, but we barely finished before you hustled me out of there."
"I thought that would be in accordance with your wishes." Helena moved her hand back to Myka's knee, giving it a squeeze before returning both hands to the wheel. "I know how… circumspect you can be. Especially regarding us."
She was pouting now. Myka cooed a little and leaned over to kiss Helena's neck, the only exposed part of her body. It nearly caused a fender bender.
"Helena. You picked me up in a vintage car, wearing the most beautiful dress I've ever seen off a red carpet, and took me to a restaurant you chose entirely to appeal to me. It's all I can do not to brag about 'us'."
Helena's smile could be so cocky. Why did Myka find that adorable? "Not bad for a first date."
"Not bad at all. So, tell me… Warehouse 2."
Helena looked over at her. Her smile had faded. "What about it?"
"Well… how did you find it? You come in one morning, saying you've got a hunch, the next thing I know we're getting a million new old Artifacts shipped in. Don't get me wrong, I love that you're the Warehouse's golden boy now…"
"Golden girl."
"Don't call yourself that, trust me." Myka leaned over again, this time resting her head on Helena's shoulder. The red velvet felt delicious against her skin. She'd have to undress before Helena, see if she could feel it all over. Luckily, 21st-century clothes were a lot easier to get out of than Helena's retro look. "So? C'mon. Brag about your genius. This is much bigger than a grappling hook and you are ever so," she broke into an English accent, "proud of that one."
"It's complicated," Helena said seriously. "Suffice to say, I had a lot of time to think in the Bronze Section. It gave me ample opportunity to narrow down the possible locations. Then, a little legwork with your Goggle Earth—"
"Google Earth."
"—and Agent Wells has proven her worth yet again." Helena tried to force a smile. It didn't work. "I don't like talking about the bronze. You understand."
"Yeah. I do." Myka still hadn't talked about her old partner with Helena. Or Dickenson. She didn't know if she ever would. It felt so good to keep the past out of the future they were building. "But if you ever do want to talk, I'm here. I know it must've been bad--"
"Don't pity me," Helena said sharply, sharp enough to make Myka's head jerk away. "The bronze was like… a waking dream. Years passed in moments. But there was a kind of clarity, in the void of time. Without distractions, I could reflect on anything. On memory, on imagination. My mind was unbound." They came to a red light. Stopped, Helena still couldn't take her eyes off the road. "Christine weighted heavily on my thoughts."
"She's in a better place now," Myka said weakly.
"In which case I've deprived her of my company for a good hundred years." Helena wiped at her eyes before tears could fully form. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken, this is not proper conversation, even in this crude age. I owe you an apology for reducing the evening."
"You never have to apologize to me for what you're feeling. I'm here for you. If there's one thing you need to know, it's that there's nothing you can say that will drive me away."
Helena tightened her hands on the steering wheel. "I may yet hold you to that, Agent Bering."
Myka kissed her cheek. It tasted of tears. "Under the circumstances, I think Myka would be suitable."
***
Dessert was a chocolate cake Leena had baked special for the occasion. But one look at Helena running a finger through the frosting and sucking it off her fingertip and Myka couldn't contain herself. She gave Helena on the sharp rap on the ass, leaving no doubt to her intentions.
"Upstairs," she ordered huskily.
Helena picked up her skirts and valiantly tried not to run.
As soon as they were inside, Myka embraced Helena. The red dress made it feel like Myka was holding pure silk in her bare arms. She kissed Helena once through her veil, just feeling the heat of her lips, before knocking the hat to the ground, sweeping Helena off her feet, letting her tongue explore every inch of the smile Helena's been flashing all night.
It wasn't just Helena's body, or her flirtation. It was that Helena had let Myka in, just a little, to the pain Myka had always known she'd carried. As much as she loved the devil-may-care rogue who had hoisted her out of the way of a speeding car with a self-made grappling gun, Myka longed to know the hurting, wounded woman she so wanted to comfort. She wanted to be close to that woman now. She wanted to wipe away her pain, if only for the moment of orgasm.
Myka raised Helena back to her feet, pulling away and pleased to see the normally unflappable woman visibly gobsmacked by the kiss. "So. What now?"
"Oh. I should think a woman of your age would know what it's called by now."
"And that's it? We take off our clothes and screw?" Myka teased right back, smiling as she did so. "With the way you've planned everything else out, I'm surprised you haven't hired Jenna Jameson to give us a tutorial."
"I don't know who that is and I'm sure I don't want to. But, if you insist." Helena reached into her purse and came out with a set of handcuffs dangling from one finger. "I've been meaning to return these to you. Lay down on the bed."
Myka did so, careful not to tear her dress. Thankfully, she ended up lying there like a vision, her gown perfectly falling to hold back a little from prying eyes. Helena could see up her skirt to her groin, but only shadows of it.
"Grab the headboard," Helena continued primly, like a schoolmarm instructing a class. Myka could only imagine how hard it would've been to study if any of her teachers had looked like H.G. Wells.
With a sweep of her hips, Helena circled to the side of the bed, taking Myka's handcuffs and wrapping them around a bar of the headboard so when she clapped them on Myka's wrists, Myka was held with her arms up like a virgin sacrifice in a B-movie. Myka guessed none of those 'sacrifices' had been screaming for the reason she would.
"Not too tight?" Helena asked solicitously, running a hand down Myka's cheek when she said they were fine. She circled back to the foot of the bed, finally pulling her gloves off to let Myka see the fingers that had brought her such pleasure. "I took into account that this is our first official date. The handcuffs put you at my mercy, of course. I do so love that you trust me enough for that. But for my part—I will only do as you ask me from here on. So whatever you want me to do… you'll have to ask for it."
Myka chortled. Leave it to Helena to come up with such a delicious addition to a goodnight kiss. "Why don't you take off my high heels then? These things are killing me."
"But of course, my dear," Helena said, moving quickly to unstrap them. "I'll simply return these to the closet." Leaving Myka alone for an unbearable few moments, she walked primly to the closet, disappeared inside, and came out dusting her hands off exaggeratedly. "Anything else?"
"Yes. My panties." Myka saw Helena stumble a bit, hearing the word. She smiled. It was good to know Helena was as turned on as she was, even if she'd never show it. Not without motivation. "I'd like for you to take them off. They're just so wet, it'd be best if you put them in the laundry immediately."
Eyes hooded, Helena returned to the bed. Myka playfully shut her legs, making it easier for Helena to pull them down. By the look on Helena's face, it wasn't the message she was hoping for.
With the utmost care, Helena took the hem of Myka's dress and eased it upward, eyes wide and searching with every inch of Myka's long perfect legs that she revealed. Myka actually caught the woman licking her lips as she passed Myka's knees. Then they were done; Helena dropped the pooled material onto Myka's stomach and looked down at her panties. When she openly licked her lips, Myka was sure it was for her benefit.
Myka didn't know if Helena was at all used to modern underwear, but even by those standards, Myka's were flaunty. Her panties were basically two thin scraps of material, one in front, one in the rear, and neither of them did a particularly thorough job. Although the part Helena was so intensely looking at covered her entire groin, the top half was translucent. It showed off the upper points of her V, the first sprinkling of pubic hair, but turned black just when things were getting interesting.
Putting her hands flat against Myka's body, Helena took her time in moving her fingers to the waistband of Myka's panties, pulling them down inch by inch. She was pleased with what she saw. Although the woman of Helena's time were often uncouthly hairy in their nethers, she didn't care for the modern tradition of shaving everything pink and bare. It made her feel as if she were meant to lust after prepubescent. But, like a third encountered by Goldilocks, Myka was just right. Trim, womanly, and best of all, wetter than a broken faucet. Helena hadn't even gotten the panties off before her head was bowed, drawn to Myka as if by magnetism.
"Uh-uh-uh!" Myka crowed, crossing her thighs. Helena could've growled. "Did I tell you to do that?"
"No," Helena replied, tossing Myka's panties in the hamper. She took no pleasure in the perfect shot. Folding her hands, she asked with overbearing politeness "Please, madame Bering, may I lick your cunny until you've had a proper orgasm?"
"Very polite of you, but no. I think it'd be best if you just used one finger for now. One single digit…" Myka breathed, suddenly a little out of sorts as Helena popped her forefinger out of her fist. She moved it to Myka's lips.
"This finger has pressed the button that stopped Edison's murder machine." She traced it down Myka's body, smoothing out that wonderful dress. "It flipped the switch that proved time travel was possible. It's traced hieroglyphs in deepest, darkest Africa." Myka whimpered involuntarily as Helena's fingernail nicked her clit. "And now I'll make you come with it. You can thank me later."
"What makes you so confident?" Myka shot back, before Helena's fingertip stole down her folds and removed her ability to speak with surgical precision.
"Experience, my love."
Helena entered her. Just the first knuckle, but Myka felt like she was coming already. Helena knew exactly how and where to touch her, like Myka's sex was an invention Helena had made specifically for her finger. Its slow delving into Myka kept her perpetually off-balance, always absorbing new pleasure instead of being able to come to grips with the sensation of Helena inside her. Only when she was all the way in did Helena wiggle her finger, giving Myka her voice back just in time to scream.
"T-take it out," Myka ordered, on the cusp of orgasm. Helena nodded and did her best to push Myka over the edge, dragging her finger out over Myka's G-spot. Myka looked at Helena's finger and couldn't believe it was so slender. She'd gotten more sensation out of that than some ex-boyfriends she could name! And it was so wet too… practically dripping… "Now taste it."
"Absolutely, darling. You simply must ask." Helena tapped her finger against her chin a few times. Myka imagined Helena could smell her, her arousal, her sheer want for Helena. Then she sucked her finger all the way into her mouth in one coquettish moment, moaning at the taste as she pulled her finger back out. She laid her hand down on Myka's bare leg, the wet heat of her finger pushing Myka on like a riding crop.
"And how do I taste, Agent Wells?"
"Not Ethiopian, yet hardly unappetizing. What more, my jewel?" Helena asked in high spirits. "Your wish is my command."
"Take my dress off. No," she countermanded, stopping Helena in her tracks. "Rip it off."
"It would be a shame to limit my exposure to such a becoming garment to a single evening," Helena protested, which was her version of a pout.
"We can always use Coco Chanel's sewing needle to fix it. I won't tell if you won't."
Helena shared Myka's devious smile. "I so love watching you employ your intellect."
Myka's smile widened at the compliment before she looked away, blushing. Her attention was drawn back to Helena by the groan of bedsprings as Helena crawled onto the bed with her, somehow limber through the bulky dress. Straddling Myka on all fours, Helena took careful hold of Myka's dress, then tore it open with childish glee. Myka's bra was as revealing as her panties—they were a dark mesh that only solidified over the nipples.
Helena's breath took a holiday. She'd seen Myka naked before, but she never tired of the sight, or lost the capacity to be amazed at her lover's beauty. She ran her hands over Myka's chest in worship before proceeding lower, ripping the dress even further and laying its halves to either side of Myka, torn asunder like a cocoon. That's what Myka was. A butterfly who played the caterpillar, only revealing her beautiful wings to Helena.
"Your bra now?" Helena asked, not sure she'd be able to stick to their game if Myka denied her the last slice of her beauty.
Myka nodded. Her arms shook, rattling the handcuffs, as Helena popped the clasp in front and, soothed by Myka's obeisance, slowed to teasingly pull either cup off of Myka's cleavage and lay them at Myka's sides.
"Lovely," Helena pronounced.
"Lie down on me," Myka said quickly, worried she'd be struck mute again by the look Helena was giving her.
Helena lowered herself onto Myka's body. The red dress felt like lying in the grass at summertime against Myka's skin. It took all Myka's considerable discipline to keep from wrapping her long legs around Helena's body and feel the intoxicating material against her sex.
"May I kiss you?" Helena asked, some of the confidence gone from her voice. She sounded as if she'd shake apart if Myka denied her.
Myka wondered if she could deny the other woman anything. "Always."
"That may be a curse in disguise," Helena said before indulging herself. With difficulty, she pulled away. "Given such permission, I may never stop." She again partook. Myka's cuffs jangled as she reached for Helena but came up short. "I hope you become used to me, for I intend to take advantage of your generous offer for some time to come."
Her passion overwhelming her, Helena cupped Myka's face, feeling the warmth burning in her cheeks as she kissed Myka's well-worn lips. They tingled like they were bruised, and Myka's hands strained against the cuffs to touch every alluring inch of Helena. She could see the roses of her cheeks, the supple turn of her neck, even down into her bodice. All of it demanded to be felt.
Myka sighed and forced herself back under control when Helena finally paused to breath. "I don't want to come all over your nice dress. Take it off."
Helena kissed Myka, one last taste for the road.
"I told you to take your dress off," Myka pointed out, mock-angry.
Helena rolled onto the other side of the bed, her hands now working furiously at the buttons that ran from her throat to her belly. "I shall. But you never said to stop kissing you. Such a lapse could be deadly in the field. As your elder, I feel obliged to teach you such lessons so that you may never forget them."
"Are you my elder? I think I could have a few years on you."
"Then why don't you tell me what Tower Bridge looked like when it was under construction?"
"Sass-mouth," Myka fired off, straining to see over Helena's side as the woman pulled her dress open. Underneath, her undergarments were quite modern, looking very comfortable. Unfortunately, they were also quite modest.
"So, to review," Helena said, desperately removing her garments while trying to retain as much grace as possible. "On a first date, you allow bondage, nudity, French kissing, digital stimulation of your genitals, the ruination of perfectly good clothes… am I forgetting something?"
"I didn’t tell you to stop kissing me."
"Very true." Myka had never been kissed like Helena kissed her. It was like Helena's lips held a lost art, like she remembered how to kiss from the time of Wuthering Heights and Jane Austen, and everyone else was just trying to imitate what they'd seen on TV. Being kissed, Myka had the feeling that something of her essence was being drunk while everyone else let it go to waste.
With a final wiggle, Helena was freed from her dress, her body encumbered by only a fetching yet modest set of red lingerie and her gartered stockings. Myka bit her lip and wished she had a camera. No, that she'd taken photography classes. This deserved to be immortalized.
"You're a vision," Myka said. "Is that how the saying goes?"
"Yes indeed," Helena replied. "And I do believe you have another wish left in your magic lamp, Aladdin."
"World peace," Myka joked.
For a moment, Helena's eyes flickered sadly. "Perhaps later. For now… would you settle for me showing you what I did with my tongue to be the toast of the French court?"
Myka set her head back. "I love history lessons."
Helena got up, did a little catwalk to stretch her legs (Myka was sure her hips didn't naturally wag that much), then turned back around. She walked back to the bed and crawled over Myka. She folded so her lower body was in the air, over her bunched legs, slyly wiggling to accentuate the slither of her torso over Myka's legs. Helena's head drifted, supine, to Myka's crotch.
First came a handful of butterfly kisses, prickling the cropped hair of her groin. Then a bittersweet absent, marked only by the rush of air as Helena sniffed her. It was already too much. Then Helena's lips ran over Myka's labia, as if absorbing her flavor by osmosis. Myka felt like she could sob. Helena stopped, the glossy surface of her lips flush against Myka's sex. Then her tongue peeked out and Myka felt a hint of rapture. Just as she'd done with her finger, Helena mischievously worked her way deep within Myka, emerging from her sex with one last, loving lick.
Myka shuddered and wondered how the hell she wasn't coming just then.
"Dear one," Helena began, the sound of her wet lips smacking together driving Myka wild. "Do you prefer your lover's tongue circumnavigate your nether lips, or be so bold as to enter your womanhood?"
"Enter, enter, definitely enter!"
"Indeed," Helena intoned, leaning back in. Her tongue did as promised, tipping into Myka, making her hips rut and squirm to get more inside. She paused again and pulled her face clear. "And would it please you more for me to limit myself to one spot, or shall I divide my attentions equally?"
"Just fuck me!"
"But of course." Helena kissed either of Myka's hips before returning to her sex. Her tongue lapsed into Myka, unhurriedly chronicling each individual inch before moving on, stimulating Myka to painful intensity before giving her respite, but only so the sensation could grow elsewhere. It was maddening. Myka never wanted it to end.
Helena felt otherwise, drawing her tongue back on more and resting her chin on Myka's groin, just north of where Myka desperately needed her. "And shall I finger you as I dine, or would penetration cheapen the experience?"
"Fuck me! Fuck me however you want!"
Helena once more lowered her mouth, this time with her hands resting on Myka's thighs and ready to join in. She stopped painfully short of Myka, so close that when she talked, Myka could feel it.
"There is also the question of your clitoris."
Myka groaned in the utmost frustration. Helena had finally exhausted her patience. Plucking a hairpin from her curly locks, she quickly picked the lock on her handcuffs and, while Helena was still 'innocently' asking her question, Myka tangled her hands in the sadist's hair and forced her between her legs.
It must've been exactly the reaction Helena was hoping for, because within moments, the inventor rewarded Myka with an orgasm as abrupt and satisfying as jamming Helena's face into her sex had been. But Helena didn't let up. She barely slowed. Almost instantly, Myka felt another climax building. When it arrived, she would've fainted, but Helena was far too cunning to allow that. She ensured Myka spent endless minutes in orgasm before mercy moved her to stop feasting on the amazing taste of Myka's excitement. Sated, if not satisfied, (never satisfied), she dropped her head to Myka's stomach.
"Don't stop," Myka pleaded, barely conscious. She twined a finger in Helena's hair. "Finish us off."
Helena couldn't deny her. She threw herself on top of Myka, the other woman nearly gasping at the cool feel of Helena's satin panties on her overheated thigh. Their eyes were inches away, Helena's full of lust, wild and jubilant as she rode Myka. Her thigh between Myka's toned legs gave her no choice but for Myka to flare up again, her breathing labored, her nipples stingingly erect.
More importantly to Myka, Helena panted in long-delayed pleasure, her panties quickly sodden against Myka's leg. Myka didn't know what to do with her hands—it was like her time chained up had robbed her of the faculty. She reached behind Helena and undid her bra. Helena was so quick to help Myka jerk it away from her skin that it might've been on fire. Then she reared up to straddle Myka, giving her a good look at what she'd uncovered. Helena's breasts were like the rest of her: perfect, tempting, and Myka's.
Myka put her hands to Helena's offering and squeezed like they were stress balls after a long talk with Pete. Helena made a sound of pure arousal, like her mouth had bypassed her brilliant mind and opened a line directly to her cunt. She rode Myka harder, her thigh crushing against Myka's sex, both of them bucking so hard that they were always on the verge of slipping off each other, but they stayed connected by the barest margin. Helena's panties, bunched up and sodden, were a smudge on Myka's toned leg.
"Take me, Myka," Helena said, somewhere between ordering and begging. "Take what's yours."
With a growl coming from she-didn't-know-where, Myka flipped on top of Helena. She ripped Helena's panties in two. She jammed her leg between Helena's thighs. She kissed her like it was their last.
"You're only allowed to do what I say," Myka said, her voice unrecognizably lusty. "Come."
Helena made a pleading sound deep in her throat, trapped under Myka's thrusting body, eager to obey.
"Come," Myka repeated, the pressure against her cunt as unrelenting as that she applied to Helena's. "Come." She repeated it like a chant as her body worked tirelessly against Helena's, her mind lost in a tangle of hair and garters and sweat. "For me, Helena."
"Oh," Helena said.
Just a tiny, surprised 'oh!' as her body was lost in rapture, her orgasm overflowing from her, splashing against Myka's legs and soaking the sheets. Her head lolled back, baring her throat for what felt like an endless number of Myka's kisses, each passionate and new. Like a blizzard with no two snowflakes alike. Until finally she craned her neck and, being watched, Myka scooped up some of the wetness from Helena's belly (it had gotten everywhere) and sucked it between her lips.
"Delicious, no doubt," Helena breathed.
"It's not Ethiopian, but it'll do."
Myka fell beside Helena, finally giving in to her tiredness. Helena got the sheets for her, pulling them over the both of them. When Myka didn’t protest having a strange woman in her bed for non-sexual purposes, Helena turned on her side to face the woman's back. At first tentatively, then with gleeful abandon at being accepted, Helena pulled Myka into a cuddle.
"Promise we'll do that again," Helena asked, abuzz with excitement. "You simply cannot give me that and then deny me more."
"Tomorrow," Myka laughed, pulled along with Helena's adorable energy.
"Tomorrow morning?" Helena bargained, eyebrow arched.
"If I oversleep," and that seemed likely, it was one in the morning and Myka was still too wired to sleep, "you have my permission to wake me however you see fit."
Satisfied, Helena laid her head down on the pillow beside Myka. Her breath slowly calmed until Myka could barely feel it brushing against her neck. And despite the thousand thoughts and scenarios running through Myka's mind, she found none of them were as important as the arm Helena had draped around her, clenched almost protectively at her midsection.
Sleep came sooner than she expected.
***
As it turned out, Helena woke her up with the smell of hot coffee and sizzling bacon. Myka's stomach rumbled her awake and she fell out of bed trying to eat dream bacon. On the floor, she opened her eyes to see Helena in the kitchenette, effortlessly keeping ten things cooking at once.
Myka didn't think she had ever used more than one of the stovetop burners at a time.
"Good morning!" Helena chirped happily, as if Myka hadn't just tumbled out of bed in a jumble of sheets.
Myka owned the robe that Helena was currently wearing, an old Christmas gift, but she was sure she'd never made it look as good as the current occupant was. The silk swept down Helena's body, the opening cinched so carelessly as to constantly shift her cleavage into Myka's view, showing off the still drying moisture of her recent shower. The morning sun backlit the sheer silk, silhouetting her curves. Myka found herself wishing that Helena had woken her up as she'd hinted the other night.
"If that's my robe, what am I supposed to wear?" Myka asked, hiding herself behind her sheets.
Helena laughed. "While I was doing laundry, I laid your robe and slippers out there."
Coquettishly, Myka carried the sheet in front of her to the chair Helena had indicated, before dropping it altogether to pull on her robes. She left herself barefoot. The faded paint on her toenails was another pleasant reminder of her night with Helena.
With Myka awake, Helena turned up the radio, which had been playing gently. Now Myka could make out the tune. Neko Case. This Tornado Loves You. Helena was adapting to 21st-century lesbianism well.
"Laundry, breakfast… not bad for a suffragette," Myka teased.
"I dispute the division of labor that leaves women with menial labor and men with meaningful work, not the necessity of the work in the first place." Helena flipped a pancake onto a plate, offering it to Myka with a dollop of butter on top. "If we move in together, I expect you to do your fair share."
"I was kinda hoping I could rock your world and you could do my chores in sexy gratitude." Myka slapped Helena's ass as long as she was playing husband. "Why didn't you just wake me? We could find other ways to burn off that energy."
Myka sat down in the dining nook, looking out at the lawn. She'd never really noticed before, but Univille was beautiful in the morning. The streets quiet, the grass green… it wasn't such a bad place to be assigned, even without the Warehouse.
Helena sat down across from her, her own plate bearing a slice of Leena's cake. They never had gotten around to it. "You looked so lovely sleeping. Like a Botticelli painting. I couldn't bear to disturb you. Besides, you'll need that rest for tonight."
"What happens tonight?" Myka asked, eagerly cutting into her pancake.
"I leave that entirely up to you."
Myka laughed. "Hope you like beer and foreign films."
"I'm sure I will." Beneath the table, Helena's foot brushed against Myka's leg. "Myka. Say how you feel about me. I would enjoy hearing it."
Myka paused with her mouth full. She forced herself to swallow the partially chewed bite. "Well… I care about you a lot. Obviously."
"Obviously," Helena replied. "Does your heart beat faster in anticipation of the sight of me? Does it grow cold in my absence? Does my touch steal the breath from your lungs?"
"Yeah… that."
Helena stared. Myka set her utensils down. "I like you a bunch, okay? Not in some dumb one-night-stand way, or like a friend, but… a lot. It's just things are going really fast. I don't like putting labels on things that are going so fast. It makes you try to force square pegs into round holes. Right now, I just like being with you."
Helena nodded, a little spastically. "I can understand."
"I don't want to get carried that. That's not me. I mean, you're already talking about moving in together."
"I live next door. Technically, we are moved in together."
"You know what I mean."
"No. Not quite." Helena laid her hands flat on the table. "Myka Bering, my feelings for you are… immense."
Myka hurriedly returned to slicing up her pancake. "I know. Do we have to get into that? I do know. Look, you lost people and you got bronzed and now you're in this new world and maybe you see something familiar in me? But we just went on our first date last night. That's not much basis for a commitment."
"I'm not asking for a commitment. I just want to know that you feel as I do."
"That isn't a commitment? Our first date, Helena… I'm just getting to know you. And I really like what I know, but…"
"And how many dates do you require before your feelings are sanctified?" Helena asked, her voice coarsening with sarcasm. "Must you get Pete's approval? How about Artie's?"
"Don't get nasty."
"I am not being nasty! But have you any idea how much I've come to care for you?"
"If last night didn't show me, I don't know what will!" Myka joshed, a little anxious. Sam had been like this before he died. Giving her presents. Talking about getting serious. So she knew exactly what she'd lost when he died. "I'm here. With you. I want to be here with you and I don't care what anyone else thinks of that. Isn't that enough?"
A tear slipped from Helena's eye. She wiped it away almost instantly. "I've something to tell you… I want to be honest with you, but I don't know how you'll react. It would be so easy to continue deceiving you, yet I find it nearly impossible." She laughed nervously. "I can be so very contrary, Agent Bering. Witness the many times we've met at gunpoint, and now our present circumstances."
Myka felt the ground drop out from underneath her. She had the idea of something formless and terrible looming. Helena had been so sincere, and now the prospect of this was freaking her out. It made Myka worry she was slipping away. Desperately, she reached across the table and clutched Helena's hand. "You can tell me anything."
"Indeed. I would've liked some assurance, but… terribly uncouth of me to insist on trust from you when I won't give it. Terribly uncouth." She dabbed her eyes again.
"You know me. You know I'll be fair, and reasonable, and that I care about you more than anyone." Myka wasn't sure if she meant that no one cared for Helena more than her or she didn't care for anyone more than Helena. "Do you need more assurance than that?"
"No. You're right." Helena stroked Myka's hand with her thumb. "You're a remarkable woman. I trust you to continue being remarkable, even when it comes to me."
Maybe it was another woman, another man. When Myka and Helena had been chasing each other, Helena had had something with someone else. Probably just a one-night stand. Myka would've done the same if she'd been bronzed for a hundred years. That was nothing. Just Helena's antiquated sense of propriety hitting her. Myka would forgive her and insist it was nothing and they would move on. They'd laugh about it later.
"I had such hopes for my daughter, you understand."
"Every mother does," Myka said, already comforting.
"We seemed on the verge of such change. She would have opportunities never available to a woman, even to me. I imagined her growing up smart, and lovely… a singer, a writer, a detective. So many things. I would've been satisfied if she were a housewife, doing domestic duties for a man she loved. But I lived in the worst of all possible worlds. I lost her. I lost everything she would become."
Myka didn't know what more she could say. Helena didn't seem to be speaking to her, but declaiming to her own private world. Like she was in a confessional. She kept a tight hold on Helena's hand, as if the woman would be spirited away at any moment.
"The best laid plans of mice and men," Helena said with a harsh chuckle. "Going into the bronze, I hoped for a better world. And I found one, I did, if only for having you in it. But over the years… bitterness raged in my heart. It was like a nightmare I couldn't awake from. I couldn't distract myself with love or wine. I could only weather the pain. And slowly, even my thoughts turned against me. I wondered what if I still lived in the worst of all worlds? What if I woke up and things had gotten worse? What then?" She finally broke out of her world of suffering, looking at Myka. "I was still a Warehouse agent. I still had responsibilities. If I couldn't save the world, I could at least end its suffering.'
Myka's hand suddenly felt clammy in Helena's. "H.G., what did you do?"
"It's not what I did. It's what I could've done. I did think of Warehouse 2, but not as some… intellectual exercise. Because I knew what it contained. The Minoan Trident, Myka. It gives its possessor the power to shake the continents, and if I had used it at a specific point…"
"Helena," Myka insisted, squeezing her hand. She had to know.
"A supervolcano, Myka. Another ice age."
"You would kill billions."
"Yes, I realize that now. But all I had was pain. You can understand the pain. One will do anything to make it better, won't they? What you must understand is what dissuaded me. You, Myka. You restored my hope in this world. You were so kind to me, so understanding… I had forgotten people could be like that."
She raised Myka's hand to her lips, kissing it. The moment her lips touched, Myka pulled her hand back.
"You would've killed—" Myka couldn't even imagine it. It would be worse than all the Artifacts she'd recovered put together. "You want to kill damn near everyone and I'm the only one stopping you?"
Helena shook her head desperately. "No, no, you were the catalyst for my transformation. I see now how unspeakable such a thing would be, thanks to you."
"How close did you come?" Myka demanded. "Were you still planning it when you came to me, in this room, where I live, and made love to me? Or when you joined the Warehouse again? Or last night!?"
Panic flashed in Helena's eyes. The words spilled out of her like blood from a wound. "I couldn't go through with it now even if I wanted to! That's why I gave you the location of Warehouse 2! Half of the Trident is there, it's not even usable without its mate! I left that with my daughter's tomb, you can put it in the deepest, blackest corner of the Warehouse if you like!"
"You had it set up before you were bronzed? Even then, you were planning this?"
"It was a contingency plan!" Helena protested. "One I have no use for, one I'll never have use for!"
She'd never answered Myka's first question. That evasiveness under the guise of trust, of love, made Myka see red. She grabbed Helena's wrist again and twisted it. Helena squeezed her eyes shut in pain, although Myka doubted her tears had anything to do with that.
"How close?" she asked.
Helena made no effort to break free. "I knew I would need help to get into Warehouse 2. That's why I made overtures to you. But you convinced me I could really come back! The world isn't beyond saving! I'm not beyond saving!"
She reached out with her other arm, trying to caress Myka's face, like she had when they'd first met, when they'd become friends, when they'd made love. Myka ripped herself away. She didn't know Helena. She'd never known her. She wasn't sure she wanted to anymore. In fact, part of her wished fervently she didn't so much as know H.G. Wells's real name.
Even Sam had only died. He hadn't killed the part of her that loved him.
"Get out," Myka said, her voice on the verge of frenzy. She never lost her temper. It hurt.
"I love you," Helena said, frantically wiping away tears that wouldn't stop coming. The sobbing entered her voice and rendered it as unrecognizable as the rest of her. "You love me too, I know it, I've felt it. You don't have to admit it, I'm sorry, you never have to say it, but please… please…"
"Get out of my room!" Myka screamed. "I trusted you, I stood up for you, and you've been using me all this—" She pointed to the door. She couldn't say anymore.
Helena rose, watching Myka's face for any trace of mercy. She saw nothing but the deathly quiet stare Myka met her with. Her hands moving unsteadily, Helena tied off her robe. "I'll return this to you post-haste, of course."
"Keep it. I don't care."
Helena moved to the door, but she couldn't force herself through it. She looked back. Myka was gripping the table so hard it could've been the only thing holding her up.
"Think of me," Helena begged, her voice dry and cracking. "You'll see everything's as I said. Just… try to remember."
"And forget this?" Myka looked up at her. Her eyes were turning red with tears. "How can I?"
"I'll be in my room if you've anything more to say to me. I hope, when you've calmed, that you can… good day, Myka. Thank you for last night."
Fandom: Warehouse 13
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 8,076
Notes: This story takes place after 2x09 – Vendetta
Characters/Pairings: Myka/H.G.
Previous: Part 3
Next: Part 5
Summary: Helena tells Myka the truth.
It was odd, having to make the mental transition from shameful (naughty) secret to teammate. Girlfriend, maybe. Myka had to double down on her instincts now—she had to stop herself from sharing smiles with Helena, and stop herself from stopping herself from sharing smiles, from throwing Helena against walls and jamming a Tesla in her face. Helena was a Warehouse agent now. They were… official, in a way.
It'd been Helena's idea to keep abreast of each other for the moment. She'd thought it would smooth things over, pretending they were nothing more than acquaintances with common interests, although only a social misfit like Claudia would buy it. And Artie. And Pete.
Leena wasn't telling anyone.
So it came as a surprise a week later when there was a gentle, but insistent knock at Myka's door in the middle of the night. Helena seemed to know Myka had been lying awake, shuffling through the Post-Its she'd taken off her own nude body. Myka leaned in the doorway, relishing the opportunity to be a seductress.
"Am I still your drug?" she asked, to Helena's lazy nod. "Need a hit?"
"Just a reminder. I did help you with your little Ivan problem and was promised compensation. Quid pro quo, remember?"
Myka smiled. "Making you a Warehouse agent again doesn't count?"
"I'm sure all you did was provide a fair and unbiased account of events. Am I correct?"
Myka shrugged. She was pretty sure she had, not allowing her feelings for H.G. to color her report. But then, would it be so bad if she had?
It wasn't a question she asked herself much.
"So," Myka drawled, running a hand down to her hip and knowing Helena enjoyed the trip. "What would you like?"
"A date," Helena replied quickly, raising her chin with a touch of pride. She'd managed to shock Myka.
Myka recovered quickly. "Don't tell me you've found a hot nightspot in Univille."
"There's only one way to find out."
Helena could be so confident. It was actually a little endearing. "Pick me up at eight. And don't think you're getting any just because of the other times. I only do so much on a first date."
"Best not say how much so much is. I'd hate to make a liar out of you." Helena shifted a hand into her pocket. "Well, I daresay that hardly required me cashing in a favor. Perhaps I should insist on a bit more bang for my buck."
Myka hung her head to the side. Really?
Helena took her hand out of her pocket to hand Myka a rolled-up magazine. "Page 54. And don't tell me you didn't keep it. I'll expect you to be wearing that, but I leave the undergarments—if any—to you."
Myka took the magazine. By the time she'd flipped to Page 54, Helena had pulled a Ms. Frederic.
And staring up at Myka from the page was herself, undercover as a fashion model, wearing the dress even Pete had liked.
***
Helena arrived promptly at eight o'clock the next day, announcing herself with a polite rap on Myka's door. Myka, for her part, had spent the day rushing through Artie's little chores so she could do a little maintenance. As podunk as Univille was, it still boasted a nail salon, a hair dresser, and a Filipina lady who did painful magic with waxes. It was all worth it when Myka opened the door wearing the dress she'd been undercover in. If she'd been wearing the lingerie she was now, though, she would've been undercover as a very different profession.
Helena stood there, looking for a moment like she'd taken a shot from a Tesla. She was just stunned, biting her own lip to bring her back to her senses. Slowly, she dragged her lip out from between her teeth. "My dear. You're ravishing."
"Not yet," Myka said perkily, hoisting her purse. "You're not so bad yourself."
Although Pete hadn't understood why anyone would watch a Western that didn't have a barfight or showdown every episode, Myka had been a devout fan of Deadwood. Everything had matched so perfectly to what she'd imagined in the books she'd devoured on Wild Bill and Calamity Jane and all the rest. In the second season, there'd been a certain dress that Alma Garrett had worn. Red velvet, buttoned all the way down… hopelessly conservative by today's standards, but Myka had thought she'd looked like a million dollars in it. In 19th century money.
The dress Helena wore reminded her of that to a tee. It was completely Victorian in its cut, concealing almost every inch of Helena's lovely skin, and yet somehow it hinted, dealing in innuendo and flirtation. Seeing Helena fill it made Myka want to pull her inside and rip those bazillion buttons clean off.
Helena smirked beneath her short-veiled hat, easily discerning the effect her outfit had on Myka. "Call me old-fashioned, but there's something to be said for concealing the majority of one's beauty from the world. Revealing it only to a select few." She offered her arm. "Shall we?"
***
Their ride was another surprise. Myka hadn't even known Helena had a license; she'd thought Helena was commuting with Claudia (whose fangirling Helena had keenly taken advantage of, turning her into a glorified chauffeur). Yet, parked in front of the bed and breakfast was what was clearly an antique limousine, fully restored, the sleek black chassis gleaming. A silver ornament stood proudly erect on the hood. It even had running boards, just in case Al Capone needed a ride.
"The 1948 Hudson Hornet Special," Helena drawled, her voice dripping with sensuality. She could make a bag of peas sound elegantly sexual. "Five hundred were made. Only ten still exist." She jangled a set of keys from her purse. "Make that eleven."
Myka wasn't a car nerd, but some cars made a geek out of anyone. This was one of them. "How?"
"Royalties, darling. Before my… rest… I made a number of investments in technology I thought would soon bear fruit. My investment firm also had specific instructions to purchase items I thought would be to my liking, for my use when I was debronzed. In its time, this was the crème de la crème of the automotive world. I have more recent vintages, but I prefer this to the kind of car certain men buy as a penile substitute." She opened the passenger door for Myka. It even opened sleekly. "Hop in."
Myka got in. Finally, a car with room for her to stretch her long legs. Taking the driver's seat, Helena looked over as if fervently enjoying the show. "I always found high heels a rather chauvinistic invention, emblematic of an unwomanly catering to male fantasy. But I must say, you make them appear positively empowering."
Myka buckled her seatbelt. "If you don't like male fantasy, you're going to hate what I'm wearing underneath this."
Helena started the engine. Its rumble seemed to run over Myka like an insouciant hand. "In your case, I'm willing to make a permanent exception."
***
The restaurant was the first thing that didn't take Myka's breath away at first glance. It was a small, out of the way place, desultory even by Univille standards. The floor was tile like you might expect to find at a school cafeteria, the view was hampered by huge self-promotion blazoned on the windows, and the food was served buffet style. The only service was the hostess who seated them.
Then Helena gentlemanly delivered a full plate of exotic-looking food to her and Myka took a bite. Breath, gone.
"Ethiopian cuisine," Helena announced, tucking into her own plate. "It's not to everyone's taste, but I thought it well-suited to your palate. I did enjoy my sojourn there in my own time."
"How did you find this place?" Myka demanded, only then realizing she had spoken with her mouth full.
Helena smiled and dabbed at Myka's mouth with a napkin. "The old-fashioned way. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I went out, until I found an eatery worthy of you." She speared a piece of something unidentifiable and scrumptious on her fork, offering it to Myka. "I think now might be a good time to define what exactly you do on a first date, Agent Bering."
Myka took a bite.
***
When Myka was being driven through town in a classic car by a 19th-century inventor and her dress already had an absurdly high slit, she let her thigh be fondled. Even if it was on a first date.
"You're as smooth as glass, my love," Helena observed, barely able to keep her eyes on the road.
"The 21st century isn't all bad, is it?"
"I should say not." Helena's hand dared to go higher.
"H.G…"
"Under the circumstances, I think Helena would be suitable."
"Helena," Myka amended. "I was thinking we could talk on this date."
"Oh, I do expect you to be quite vocal."
"Not like that. There's so much I want to ask you. The food was delicious, but we barely finished before you hustled me out of there."
"I thought that would be in accordance with your wishes." Helena moved her hand back to Myka's knee, giving it a squeeze before returning both hands to the wheel. "I know how… circumspect you can be. Especially regarding us."
She was pouting now. Myka cooed a little and leaned over to kiss Helena's neck, the only exposed part of her body. It nearly caused a fender bender.
"Helena. You picked me up in a vintage car, wearing the most beautiful dress I've ever seen off a red carpet, and took me to a restaurant you chose entirely to appeal to me. It's all I can do not to brag about 'us'."
Helena's smile could be so cocky. Why did Myka find that adorable? "Not bad for a first date."
"Not bad at all. So, tell me… Warehouse 2."
Helena looked over at her. Her smile had faded. "What about it?"
"Well… how did you find it? You come in one morning, saying you've got a hunch, the next thing I know we're getting a million new old Artifacts shipped in. Don't get me wrong, I love that you're the Warehouse's golden boy now…"
"Golden girl."
"Don't call yourself that, trust me." Myka leaned over again, this time resting her head on Helena's shoulder. The red velvet felt delicious against her skin. She'd have to undress before Helena, see if she could feel it all over. Luckily, 21st-century clothes were a lot easier to get out of than Helena's retro look. "So? C'mon. Brag about your genius. This is much bigger than a grappling hook and you are ever so," she broke into an English accent, "proud of that one."
"It's complicated," Helena said seriously. "Suffice to say, I had a lot of time to think in the Bronze Section. It gave me ample opportunity to narrow down the possible locations. Then, a little legwork with your Goggle Earth—"
"Google Earth."
"—and Agent Wells has proven her worth yet again." Helena tried to force a smile. It didn't work. "I don't like talking about the bronze. You understand."
"Yeah. I do." Myka still hadn't talked about her old partner with Helena. Or Dickenson. She didn't know if she ever would. It felt so good to keep the past out of the future they were building. "But if you ever do want to talk, I'm here. I know it must've been bad--"
"Don't pity me," Helena said sharply, sharp enough to make Myka's head jerk away. "The bronze was like… a waking dream. Years passed in moments. But there was a kind of clarity, in the void of time. Without distractions, I could reflect on anything. On memory, on imagination. My mind was unbound." They came to a red light. Stopped, Helena still couldn't take her eyes off the road. "Christine weighted heavily on my thoughts."
"She's in a better place now," Myka said weakly.
"In which case I've deprived her of my company for a good hundred years." Helena wiped at her eyes before tears could fully form. "Unless I'm greatly mistaken, this is not proper conversation, even in this crude age. I owe you an apology for reducing the evening."
"You never have to apologize to me for what you're feeling. I'm here for you. If there's one thing you need to know, it's that there's nothing you can say that will drive me away."
Helena tightened her hands on the steering wheel. "I may yet hold you to that, Agent Bering."
Myka kissed her cheek. It tasted of tears. "Under the circumstances, I think Myka would be suitable."
***
Dessert was a chocolate cake Leena had baked special for the occasion. But one look at Helena running a finger through the frosting and sucking it off her fingertip and Myka couldn't contain herself. She gave Helena on the sharp rap on the ass, leaving no doubt to her intentions.
"Upstairs," she ordered huskily.
Helena picked up her skirts and valiantly tried not to run.
As soon as they were inside, Myka embraced Helena. The red dress made it feel like Myka was holding pure silk in her bare arms. She kissed Helena once through her veil, just feeling the heat of her lips, before knocking the hat to the ground, sweeping Helena off her feet, letting her tongue explore every inch of the smile Helena's been flashing all night.
It wasn't just Helena's body, or her flirtation. It was that Helena had let Myka in, just a little, to the pain Myka had always known she'd carried. As much as she loved the devil-may-care rogue who had hoisted her out of the way of a speeding car with a self-made grappling gun, Myka longed to know the hurting, wounded woman she so wanted to comfort. She wanted to be close to that woman now. She wanted to wipe away her pain, if only for the moment of orgasm.
Myka raised Helena back to her feet, pulling away and pleased to see the normally unflappable woman visibly gobsmacked by the kiss. "So. What now?"
"Oh. I should think a woman of your age would know what it's called by now."
"And that's it? We take off our clothes and screw?" Myka teased right back, smiling as she did so. "With the way you've planned everything else out, I'm surprised you haven't hired Jenna Jameson to give us a tutorial."
"I don't know who that is and I'm sure I don't want to. But, if you insist." Helena reached into her purse and came out with a set of handcuffs dangling from one finger. "I've been meaning to return these to you. Lay down on the bed."
Myka did so, careful not to tear her dress. Thankfully, she ended up lying there like a vision, her gown perfectly falling to hold back a little from prying eyes. Helena could see up her skirt to her groin, but only shadows of it.
"Grab the headboard," Helena continued primly, like a schoolmarm instructing a class. Myka could only imagine how hard it would've been to study if any of her teachers had looked like H.G. Wells.
With a sweep of her hips, Helena circled to the side of the bed, taking Myka's handcuffs and wrapping them around a bar of the headboard so when she clapped them on Myka's wrists, Myka was held with her arms up like a virgin sacrifice in a B-movie. Myka guessed none of those 'sacrifices' had been screaming for the reason she would.
"Not too tight?" Helena asked solicitously, running a hand down Myka's cheek when she said they were fine. She circled back to the foot of the bed, finally pulling her gloves off to let Myka see the fingers that had brought her such pleasure. "I took into account that this is our first official date. The handcuffs put you at my mercy, of course. I do so love that you trust me enough for that. But for my part—I will only do as you ask me from here on. So whatever you want me to do… you'll have to ask for it."
Myka chortled. Leave it to Helena to come up with such a delicious addition to a goodnight kiss. "Why don't you take off my high heels then? These things are killing me."
"But of course, my dear," Helena said, moving quickly to unstrap them. "I'll simply return these to the closet." Leaving Myka alone for an unbearable few moments, she walked primly to the closet, disappeared inside, and came out dusting her hands off exaggeratedly. "Anything else?"
"Yes. My panties." Myka saw Helena stumble a bit, hearing the word. She smiled. It was good to know Helena was as turned on as she was, even if she'd never show it. Not without motivation. "I'd like for you to take them off. They're just so wet, it'd be best if you put them in the laundry immediately."
Eyes hooded, Helena returned to the bed. Myka playfully shut her legs, making it easier for Helena to pull them down. By the look on Helena's face, it wasn't the message she was hoping for.
With the utmost care, Helena took the hem of Myka's dress and eased it upward, eyes wide and searching with every inch of Myka's long perfect legs that she revealed. Myka actually caught the woman licking her lips as she passed Myka's knees. Then they were done; Helena dropped the pooled material onto Myka's stomach and looked down at her panties. When she openly licked her lips, Myka was sure it was for her benefit.
Myka didn't know if Helena was at all used to modern underwear, but even by those standards, Myka's were flaunty. Her panties were basically two thin scraps of material, one in front, one in the rear, and neither of them did a particularly thorough job. Although the part Helena was so intensely looking at covered her entire groin, the top half was translucent. It showed off the upper points of her V, the first sprinkling of pubic hair, but turned black just when things were getting interesting.
Putting her hands flat against Myka's body, Helena took her time in moving her fingers to the waistband of Myka's panties, pulling them down inch by inch. She was pleased with what she saw. Although the woman of Helena's time were often uncouthly hairy in their nethers, she didn't care for the modern tradition of shaving everything pink and bare. It made her feel as if she were meant to lust after prepubescent. But, like a third encountered by Goldilocks, Myka was just right. Trim, womanly, and best of all, wetter than a broken faucet. Helena hadn't even gotten the panties off before her head was bowed, drawn to Myka as if by magnetism.
"Uh-uh-uh!" Myka crowed, crossing her thighs. Helena could've growled. "Did I tell you to do that?"
"No," Helena replied, tossing Myka's panties in the hamper. She took no pleasure in the perfect shot. Folding her hands, she asked with overbearing politeness "Please, madame Bering, may I lick your cunny until you've had a proper orgasm?"
"Very polite of you, but no. I think it'd be best if you just used one finger for now. One single digit…" Myka breathed, suddenly a little out of sorts as Helena popped her forefinger out of her fist. She moved it to Myka's lips.
"This finger has pressed the button that stopped Edison's murder machine." She traced it down Myka's body, smoothing out that wonderful dress. "It flipped the switch that proved time travel was possible. It's traced hieroglyphs in deepest, darkest Africa." Myka whimpered involuntarily as Helena's fingernail nicked her clit. "And now I'll make you come with it. You can thank me later."
"What makes you so confident?" Myka shot back, before Helena's fingertip stole down her folds and removed her ability to speak with surgical precision.
"Experience, my love."
Helena entered her. Just the first knuckle, but Myka felt like she was coming already. Helena knew exactly how and where to touch her, like Myka's sex was an invention Helena had made specifically for her finger. Its slow delving into Myka kept her perpetually off-balance, always absorbing new pleasure instead of being able to come to grips with the sensation of Helena inside her. Only when she was all the way in did Helena wiggle her finger, giving Myka her voice back just in time to scream.
"T-take it out," Myka ordered, on the cusp of orgasm. Helena nodded and did her best to push Myka over the edge, dragging her finger out over Myka's G-spot. Myka looked at Helena's finger and couldn't believe it was so slender. She'd gotten more sensation out of that than some ex-boyfriends she could name! And it was so wet too… practically dripping… "Now taste it."
"Absolutely, darling. You simply must ask." Helena tapped her finger against her chin a few times. Myka imagined Helena could smell her, her arousal, her sheer want for Helena. Then she sucked her finger all the way into her mouth in one coquettish moment, moaning at the taste as she pulled her finger back out. She laid her hand down on Myka's bare leg, the wet heat of her finger pushing Myka on like a riding crop.
"And how do I taste, Agent Wells?"
"Not Ethiopian, yet hardly unappetizing. What more, my jewel?" Helena asked in high spirits. "Your wish is my command."
"Take my dress off. No," she countermanded, stopping Helena in her tracks. "Rip it off."
"It would be a shame to limit my exposure to such a becoming garment to a single evening," Helena protested, which was her version of a pout.
"We can always use Coco Chanel's sewing needle to fix it. I won't tell if you won't."
Helena shared Myka's devious smile. "I so love watching you employ your intellect."
Myka's smile widened at the compliment before she looked away, blushing. Her attention was drawn back to Helena by the groan of bedsprings as Helena crawled onto the bed with her, somehow limber through the bulky dress. Straddling Myka on all fours, Helena took careful hold of Myka's dress, then tore it open with childish glee. Myka's bra was as revealing as her panties—they were a dark mesh that only solidified over the nipples.
Helena's breath took a holiday. She'd seen Myka naked before, but she never tired of the sight, or lost the capacity to be amazed at her lover's beauty. She ran her hands over Myka's chest in worship before proceeding lower, ripping the dress even further and laying its halves to either side of Myka, torn asunder like a cocoon. That's what Myka was. A butterfly who played the caterpillar, only revealing her beautiful wings to Helena.
"Your bra now?" Helena asked, not sure she'd be able to stick to their game if Myka denied her the last slice of her beauty.
Myka nodded. Her arms shook, rattling the handcuffs, as Helena popped the clasp in front and, soothed by Myka's obeisance, slowed to teasingly pull either cup off of Myka's cleavage and lay them at Myka's sides.
"Lovely," Helena pronounced.
"Lie down on me," Myka said quickly, worried she'd be struck mute again by the look Helena was giving her.
Helena lowered herself onto Myka's body. The red dress felt like lying in the grass at summertime against Myka's skin. It took all Myka's considerable discipline to keep from wrapping her long legs around Helena's body and feel the intoxicating material against her sex.
"May I kiss you?" Helena asked, some of the confidence gone from her voice. She sounded as if she'd shake apart if Myka denied her.
Myka wondered if she could deny the other woman anything. "Always."
"That may be a curse in disguise," Helena said before indulging herself. With difficulty, she pulled away. "Given such permission, I may never stop." She again partook. Myka's cuffs jangled as she reached for Helena but came up short. "I hope you become used to me, for I intend to take advantage of your generous offer for some time to come."
Her passion overwhelming her, Helena cupped Myka's face, feeling the warmth burning in her cheeks as she kissed Myka's well-worn lips. They tingled like they were bruised, and Myka's hands strained against the cuffs to touch every alluring inch of Helena. She could see the roses of her cheeks, the supple turn of her neck, even down into her bodice. All of it demanded to be felt.
Myka sighed and forced herself back under control when Helena finally paused to breath. "I don't want to come all over your nice dress. Take it off."
Helena kissed Myka, one last taste for the road.
"I told you to take your dress off," Myka pointed out, mock-angry.
Helena rolled onto the other side of the bed, her hands now working furiously at the buttons that ran from her throat to her belly. "I shall. But you never said to stop kissing you. Such a lapse could be deadly in the field. As your elder, I feel obliged to teach you such lessons so that you may never forget them."
"Are you my elder? I think I could have a few years on you."
"Then why don't you tell me what Tower Bridge looked like when it was under construction?"
"Sass-mouth," Myka fired off, straining to see over Helena's side as the woman pulled her dress open. Underneath, her undergarments were quite modern, looking very comfortable. Unfortunately, they were also quite modest.
"So, to review," Helena said, desperately removing her garments while trying to retain as much grace as possible. "On a first date, you allow bondage, nudity, French kissing, digital stimulation of your genitals, the ruination of perfectly good clothes… am I forgetting something?"
"I didn’t tell you to stop kissing me."
"Very true." Myka had never been kissed like Helena kissed her. It was like Helena's lips held a lost art, like she remembered how to kiss from the time of Wuthering Heights and Jane Austen, and everyone else was just trying to imitate what they'd seen on TV. Being kissed, Myka had the feeling that something of her essence was being drunk while everyone else let it go to waste.
With a final wiggle, Helena was freed from her dress, her body encumbered by only a fetching yet modest set of red lingerie and her gartered stockings. Myka bit her lip and wished she had a camera. No, that she'd taken photography classes. This deserved to be immortalized.
"You're a vision," Myka said. "Is that how the saying goes?"
"Yes indeed," Helena replied. "And I do believe you have another wish left in your magic lamp, Aladdin."
"World peace," Myka joked.
For a moment, Helena's eyes flickered sadly. "Perhaps later. For now… would you settle for me showing you what I did with my tongue to be the toast of the French court?"
Myka set her head back. "I love history lessons."
Helena got up, did a little catwalk to stretch her legs (Myka was sure her hips didn't naturally wag that much), then turned back around. She walked back to the bed and crawled over Myka. She folded so her lower body was in the air, over her bunched legs, slyly wiggling to accentuate the slither of her torso over Myka's legs. Helena's head drifted, supine, to Myka's crotch.
First came a handful of butterfly kisses, prickling the cropped hair of her groin. Then a bittersweet absent, marked only by the rush of air as Helena sniffed her. It was already too much. Then Helena's lips ran over Myka's labia, as if absorbing her flavor by osmosis. Myka felt like she could sob. Helena stopped, the glossy surface of her lips flush against Myka's sex. Then her tongue peeked out and Myka felt a hint of rapture. Just as she'd done with her finger, Helena mischievously worked her way deep within Myka, emerging from her sex with one last, loving lick.
Myka shuddered and wondered how the hell she wasn't coming just then.
"Dear one," Helena began, the sound of her wet lips smacking together driving Myka wild. "Do you prefer your lover's tongue circumnavigate your nether lips, or be so bold as to enter your womanhood?"
"Enter, enter, definitely enter!"
"Indeed," Helena intoned, leaning back in. Her tongue did as promised, tipping into Myka, making her hips rut and squirm to get more inside. She paused again and pulled her face clear. "And would it please you more for me to limit myself to one spot, or shall I divide my attentions equally?"
"Just fuck me!"
"But of course." Helena kissed either of Myka's hips before returning to her sex. Her tongue lapsed into Myka, unhurriedly chronicling each individual inch before moving on, stimulating Myka to painful intensity before giving her respite, but only so the sensation could grow elsewhere. It was maddening. Myka never wanted it to end.
Helena felt otherwise, drawing her tongue back on more and resting her chin on Myka's groin, just north of where Myka desperately needed her. "And shall I finger you as I dine, or would penetration cheapen the experience?"
"Fuck me! Fuck me however you want!"
Helena once more lowered her mouth, this time with her hands resting on Myka's thighs and ready to join in. She stopped painfully short of Myka, so close that when she talked, Myka could feel it.
"There is also the question of your clitoris."
Myka groaned in the utmost frustration. Helena had finally exhausted her patience. Plucking a hairpin from her curly locks, she quickly picked the lock on her handcuffs and, while Helena was still 'innocently' asking her question, Myka tangled her hands in the sadist's hair and forced her between her legs.
It must've been exactly the reaction Helena was hoping for, because within moments, the inventor rewarded Myka with an orgasm as abrupt and satisfying as jamming Helena's face into her sex had been. But Helena didn't let up. She barely slowed. Almost instantly, Myka felt another climax building. When it arrived, she would've fainted, but Helena was far too cunning to allow that. She ensured Myka spent endless minutes in orgasm before mercy moved her to stop feasting on the amazing taste of Myka's excitement. Sated, if not satisfied, (never satisfied), she dropped her head to Myka's stomach.
"Don't stop," Myka pleaded, barely conscious. She twined a finger in Helena's hair. "Finish us off."
Helena couldn't deny her. She threw herself on top of Myka, the other woman nearly gasping at the cool feel of Helena's satin panties on her overheated thigh. Their eyes were inches away, Helena's full of lust, wild and jubilant as she rode Myka. Her thigh between Myka's toned legs gave her no choice but for Myka to flare up again, her breathing labored, her nipples stingingly erect.
More importantly to Myka, Helena panted in long-delayed pleasure, her panties quickly sodden against Myka's leg. Myka didn't know what to do with her hands—it was like her time chained up had robbed her of the faculty. She reached behind Helena and undid her bra. Helena was so quick to help Myka jerk it away from her skin that it might've been on fire. Then she reared up to straddle Myka, giving her a good look at what she'd uncovered. Helena's breasts were like the rest of her: perfect, tempting, and Myka's.
Myka put her hands to Helena's offering and squeezed like they were stress balls after a long talk with Pete. Helena made a sound of pure arousal, like her mouth had bypassed her brilliant mind and opened a line directly to her cunt. She rode Myka harder, her thigh crushing against Myka's sex, both of them bucking so hard that they were always on the verge of slipping off each other, but they stayed connected by the barest margin. Helena's panties, bunched up and sodden, were a smudge on Myka's toned leg.
"Take me, Myka," Helena said, somewhere between ordering and begging. "Take what's yours."
With a growl coming from she-didn't-know-where, Myka flipped on top of Helena. She ripped Helena's panties in two. She jammed her leg between Helena's thighs. She kissed her like it was their last.
"You're only allowed to do what I say," Myka said, her voice unrecognizably lusty. "Come."
Helena made a pleading sound deep in her throat, trapped under Myka's thrusting body, eager to obey.
"Come," Myka repeated, the pressure against her cunt as unrelenting as that she applied to Helena's. "Come." She repeated it like a chant as her body worked tirelessly against Helena's, her mind lost in a tangle of hair and garters and sweat. "For me, Helena."
"Oh," Helena said.
Just a tiny, surprised 'oh!' as her body was lost in rapture, her orgasm overflowing from her, splashing against Myka's legs and soaking the sheets. Her head lolled back, baring her throat for what felt like an endless number of Myka's kisses, each passionate and new. Like a blizzard with no two snowflakes alike. Until finally she craned her neck and, being watched, Myka scooped up some of the wetness from Helena's belly (it had gotten everywhere) and sucked it between her lips.
"Delicious, no doubt," Helena breathed.
"It's not Ethiopian, but it'll do."
Myka fell beside Helena, finally giving in to her tiredness. Helena got the sheets for her, pulling them over the both of them. When Myka didn’t protest having a strange woman in her bed for non-sexual purposes, Helena turned on her side to face the woman's back. At first tentatively, then with gleeful abandon at being accepted, Helena pulled Myka into a cuddle.
"Promise we'll do that again," Helena asked, abuzz with excitement. "You simply cannot give me that and then deny me more."
"Tomorrow," Myka laughed, pulled along with Helena's adorable energy.
"Tomorrow morning?" Helena bargained, eyebrow arched.
"If I oversleep," and that seemed likely, it was one in the morning and Myka was still too wired to sleep, "you have my permission to wake me however you see fit."
Satisfied, Helena laid her head down on the pillow beside Myka. Her breath slowly calmed until Myka could barely feel it brushing against her neck. And despite the thousand thoughts and scenarios running through Myka's mind, she found none of them were as important as the arm Helena had draped around her, clenched almost protectively at her midsection.
Sleep came sooner than she expected.
***
As it turned out, Helena woke her up with the smell of hot coffee and sizzling bacon. Myka's stomach rumbled her awake and she fell out of bed trying to eat dream bacon. On the floor, she opened her eyes to see Helena in the kitchenette, effortlessly keeping ten things cooking at once.
Myka didn't think she had ever used more than one of the stovetop burners at a time.
"Good morning!" Helena chirped happily, as if Myka hadn't just tumbled out of bed in a jumble of sheets.
Myka owned the robe that Helena was currently wearing, an old Christmas gift, but she was sure she'd never made it look as good as the current occupant was. The silk swept down Helena's body, the opening cinched so carelessly as to constantly shift her cleavage into Myka's view, showing off the still drying moisture of her recent shower. The morning sun backlit the sheer silk, silhouetting her curves. Myka found herself wishing that Helena had woken her up as she'd hinted the other night.
"If that's my robe, what am I supposed to wear?" Myka asked, hiding herself behind her sheets.
Helena laughed. "While I was doing laundry, I laid your robe and slippers out there."
Coquettishly, Myka carried the sheet in front of her to the chair Helena had indicated, before dropping it altogether to pull on her robes. She left herself barefoot. The faded paint on her toenails was another pleasant reminder of her night with Helena.
With Myka awake, Helena turned up the radio, which had been playing gently. Now Myka could make out the tune. Neko Case. This Tornado Loves You. Helena was adapting to 21st-century lesbianism well.
"Laundry, breakfast… not bad for a suffragette," Myka teased.
"I dispute the division of labor that leaves women with menial labor and men with meaningful work, not the necessity of the work in the first place." Helena flipped a pancake onto a plate, offering it to Myka with a dollop of butter on top. "If we move in together, I expect you to do your fair share."
"I was kinda hoping I could rock your world and you could do my chores in sexy gratitude." Myka slapped Helena's ass as long as she was playing husband. "Why didn't you just wake me? We could find other ways to burn off that energy."
Myka sat down in the dining nook, looking out at the lawn. She'd never really noticed before, but Univille was beautiful in the morning. The streets quiet, the grass green… it wasn't such a bad place to be assigned, even without the Warehouse.
Helena sat down across from her, her own plate bearing a slice of Leena's cake. They never had gotten around to it. "You looked so lovely sleeping. Like a Botticelli painting. I couldn't bear to disturb you. Besides, you'll need that rest for tonight."
"What happens tonight?" Myka asked, eagerly cutting into her pancake.
"I leave that entirely up to you."
Myka laughed. "Hope you like beer and foreign films."
"I'm sure I will." Beneath the table, Helena's foot brushed against Myka's leg. "Myka. Say how you feel about me. I would enjoy hearing it."
Myka paused with her mouth full. She forced herself to swallow the partially chewed bite. "Well… I care about you a lot. Obviously."
"Obviously," Helena replied. "Does your heart beat faster in anticipation of the sight of me? Does it grow cold in my absence? Does my touch steal the breath from your lungs?"
"Yeah… that."
Helena stared. Myka set her utensils down. "I like you a bunch, okay? Not in some dumb one-night-stand way, or like a friend, but… a lot. It's just things are going really fast. I don't like putting labels on things that are going so fast. It makes you try to force square pegs into round holes. Right now, I just like being with you."
Helena nodded, a little spastically. "I can understand."
"I don't want to get carried that. That's not me. I mean, you're already talking about moving in together."
"I live next door. Technically, we are moved in together."
"You know what I mean."
"No. Not quite." Helena laid her hands flat on the table. "Myka Bering, my feelings for you are… immense."
Myka hurriedly returned to slicing up her pancake. "I know. Do we have to get into that? I do know. Look, you lost people and you got bronzed and now you're in this new world and maybe you see something familiar in me? But we just went on our first date last night. That's not much basis for a commitment."
"I'm not asking for a commitment. I just want to know that you feel as I do."
"That isn't a commitment? Our first date, Helena… I'm just getting to know you. And I really like what I know, but…"
"And how many dates do you require before your feelings are sanctified?" Helena asked, her voice coarsening with sarcasm. "Must you get Pete's approval? How about Artie's?"
"Don't get nasty."
"I am not being nasty! But have you any idea how much I've come to care for you?"
"If last night didn't show me, I don't know what will!" Myka joshed, a little anxious. Sam had been like this before he died. Giving her presents. Talking about getting serious. So she knew exactly what she'd lost when he died. "I'm here. With you. I want to be here with you and I don't care what anyone else thinks of that. Isn't that enough?"
A tear slipped from Helena's eye. She wiped it away almost instantly. "I've something to tell you… I want to be honest with you, but I don't know how you'll react. It would be so easy to continue deceiving you, yet I find it nearly impossible." She laughed nervously. "I can be so very contrary, Agent Bering. Witness the many times we've met at gunpoint, and now our present circumstances."
Myka felt the ground drop out from underneath her. She had the idea of something formless and terrible looming. Helena had been so sincere, and now the prospect of this was freaking her out. It made Myka worry she was slipping away. Desperately, she reached across the table and clutched Helena's hand. "You can tell me anything."
"Indeed. I would've liked some assurance, but… terribly uncouth of me to insist on trust from you when I won't give it. Terribly uncouth." She dabbed her eyes again.
"You know me. You know I'll be fair, and reasonable, and that I care about you more than anyone." Myka wasn't sure if she meant that no one cared for Helena more than her or she didn't care for anyone more than Helena. "Do you need more assurance than that?"
"No. You're right." Helena stroked Myka's hand with her thumb. "You're a remarkable woman. I trust you to continue being remarkable, even when it comes to me."
Maybe it was another woman, another man. When Myka and Helena had been chasing each other, Helena had had something with someone else. Probably just a one-night stand. Myka would've done the same if she'd been bronzed for a hundred years. That was nothing. Just Helena's antiquated sense of propriety hitting her. Myka would forgive her and insist it was nothing and they would move on. They'd laugh about it later.
"I had such hopes for my daughter, you understand."
"Every mother does," Myka said, already comforting.
"We seemed on the verge of such change. She would have opportunities never available to a woman, even to me. I imagined her growing up smart, and lovely… a singer, a writer, a detective. So many things. I would've been satisfied if she were a housewife, doing domestic duties for a man she loved. But I lived in the worst of all possible worlds. I lost her. I lost everything she would become."
Myka didn't know what more she could say. Helena didn't seem to be speaking to her, but declaiming to her own private world. Like she was in a confessional. She kept a tight hold on Helena's hand, as if the woman would be spirited away at any moment.
"The best laid plans of mice and men," Helena said with a harsh chuckle. "Going into the bronze, I hoped for a better world. And I found one, I did, if only for having you in it. But over the years… bitterness raged in my heart. It was like a nightmare I couldn't awake from. I couldn't distract myself with love or wine. I could only weather the pain. And slowly, even my thoughts turned against me. I wondered what if I still lived in the worst of all worlds? What if I woke up and things had gotten worse? What then?" She finally broke out of her world of suffering, looking at Myka. "I was still a Warehouse agent. I still had responsibilities. If I couldn't save the world, I could at least end its suffering.'
Myka's hand suddenly felt clammy in Helena's. "H.G., what did you do?"
"It's not what I did. It's what I could've done. I did think of Warehouse 2, but not as some… intellectual exercise. Because I knew what it contained. The Minoan Trident, Myka. It gives its possessor the power to shake the continents, and if I had used it at a specific point…"
"Helena," Myka insisted, squeezing her hand. She had to know.
"A supervolcano, Myka. Another ice age."
"You would kill billions."
"Yes, I realize that now. But all I had was pain. You can understand the pain. One will do anything to make it better, won't they? What you must understand is what dissuaded me. You, Myka. You restored my hope in this world. You were so kind to me, so understanding… I had forgotten people could be like that."
She raised Myka's hand to her lips, kissing it. The moment her lips touched, Myka pulled her hand back.
"You would've killed—" Myka couldn't even imagine it. It would be worse than all the Artifacts she'd recovered put together. "You want to kill damn near everyone and I'm the only one stopping you?"
Helena shook her head desperately. "No, no, you were the catalyst for my transformation. I see now how unspeakable such a thing would be, thanks to you."
"How close did you come?" Myka demanded. "Were you still planning it when you came to me, in this room, where I live, and made love to me? Or when you joined the Warehouse again? Or last night!?"
Panic flashed in Helena's eyes. The words spilled out of her like blood from a wound. "I couldn't go through with it now even if I wanted to! That's why I gave you the location of Warehouse 2! Half of the Trident is there, it's not even usable without its mate! I left that with my daughter's tomb, you can put it in the deepest, blackest corner of the Warehouse if you like!"
"You had it set up before you were bronzed? Even then, you were planning this?"
"It was a contingency plan!" Helena protested. "One I have no use for, one I'll never have use for!"
She'd never answered Myka's first question. That evasiveness under the guise of trust, of love, made Myka see red. She grabbed Helena's wrist again and twisted it. Helena squeezed her eyes shut in pain, although Myka doubted her tears had anything to do with that.
"How close?" she asked.
Helena made no effort to break free. "I knew I would need help to get into Warehouse 2. That's why I made overtures to you. But you convinced me I could really come back! The world isn't beyond saving! I'm not beyond saving!"
She reached out with her other arm, trying to caress Myka's face, like she had when they'd first met, when they'd become friends, when they'd made love. Myka ripped herself away. She didn't know Helena. She'd never known her. She wasn't sure she wanted to anymore. In fact, part of her wished fervently she didn't so much as know H.G. Wells's real name.
Even Sam had only died. He hadn't killed the part of her that loved him.
"Get out," Myka said, her voice on the verge of frenzy. She never lost her temper. It hurt.
"I love you," Helena said, frantically wiping away tears that wouldn't stop coming. The sobbing entered her voice and rendered it as unrecognizable as the rest of her. "You love me too, I know it, I've felt it. You don't have to admit it, I'm sorry, you never have to say it, but please… please…"
"Get out of my room!" Myka screamed. "I trusted you, I stood up for you, and you've been using me all this—" She pointed to the door. She couldn't say anymore.
Helena rose, watching Myka's face for any trace of mercy. She saw nothing but the deathly quiet stare Myka met her with. Her hands moving unsteadily, Helena tied off her robe. "I'll return this to you post-haste, of course."
"Keep it. I don't care."
Helena moved to the door, but she couldn't force herself through it. She looked back. Myka was gripping the table so hard it could've been the only thing holding her up.
"Think of me," Helena begged, her voice dry and cracking. "You'll see everything's as I said. Just… try to remember."
"And forget this?" Myka looked up at her. Her eyes were turning red with tears. "How can I?"
"I'll be in my room if you've anything more to say to me. I hope, when you've calmed, that you can… good day, Myka. Thank you for last night."
